#Like she throws a toy and it trips one turtle and they all end up falling down

[familyofpaladins]

Putting your tags on blast @forgetful-nerd because YES!!!!

Turtle Forever 2 but 87 Shredder got Karai after the last crossover and he carries her in a baby carrier throughout the movie like Peter B Parker in spider-verse 2.

[shesawriter39049]

|FEVER| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!

OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...

WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)

WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.

NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...

SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....

*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol

SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA  FT ANGELE

~~~~~~~

“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…

Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!

And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos! 

Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!

And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….

“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!

Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.

“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!

”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there. 

Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.  

You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.

“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.

“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?”  Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.

Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.

“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.  

“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-”  Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.

Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....

“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”

Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...

Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.

You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.

“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.

A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.

“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…

Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!

Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink,  and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end,  your actually here to work…

Sooo...

“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”

So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!

Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.

Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....

~~~~

Heyyyy, Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....

Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....

[ihaveafandom-problem554]

Hamiltots

"Mama! I-I wanna stay w- with you" Alex whined to his mother. "I'm sorry Alexander but mama's busy. You'll stay with Mr. Washington, he's a nice man."

Alex looks up at Mr. Washington, then quickly diggs his face into his mother's chest. "Ooh! Alexander! I'm so sorry, he's just really shy- OW Alexander Hamilton! What have I said about biting!" Alex only yells into his mother's chest in response.

" It's ok madam, I understand." Washington leans in closer to Alex. " Hey Alexander, Mom needs to go-" Alex yelled even louder then the first time in his mother's chest. "Hey, look I know you're gonna miss mommy, but you can make lots of friends here!" He tries to reassure Alex. "Come on, mom will be back before you know it!" Washington says leaning over to grab Alex from his mother's grasp. "Come on, say bye to mama"

"B-Bye-bye" Alex waved, tears threatening come out from his eyes. "Now, I just know you will make plenty of friends Son." Washington says opening the door for Alexander.

Alex glares at Washington before walking in.

The second Alex walks in, he sees a series of activities and multiple at each one. The crafting table has 4 boys and 1 girl. At the book section there 2 boys and a girl who seems to admire the kid in a pink shirt with puffy hair. One of the girls aren't even doing anything, she's just staring out the window. To take a guess she might be talking to the birds.

Alexander's examination of his surroundings was interrupted by a girl in a yellow shirt and a boy with a missing tooth, he looked scary but his smile was sweet, both kids came from the crafting table.

"Well aren't you two eager to meet our new friend?" Washington charmed patting both the kids' heads.

"Children!" He says getting everyone's attention " We have a new friend! Introduced yourselves, like we practiced yesterday." One by one the kids start to introduce themselves.

"Hi I'm Maria!"

"I'm Charles Lee"

"Samuel Seabury!"

"King George The III" A disappointed was heard from Mr. Washington

"James Reynolds"

" *small cough* James Madison"

He glares before telling Alex his name " ..... Thomas Jefferson"

"John Laurens!"

"Hercules Mulligan!"

"Aaron burr"

"Angelica"

"Eliza!"

"And PEGGY!"

Hercules and Peggy were the two infront of Alexander almost jumping, "What's your name!" Peggy burst out. "A-Alex- Alexander Hamil-ton"

"Wow that's a mouth full!" Peggy says with a wide smile. "Yeah, but not as much as Laf's name"

"Well that's because Lafayett- wait if Jefferson is here...Then where is.." All three kids look up at Mr. Washington, who was looking around the classroom. "Hey Hercules, where's Lafayette?"

"Oh he went with Mrs. Martha, he looked sad."

"Oh ok, Alexander you can go ahead and have fun with Hercules and Peggy" Washington says, then walking off to the back room. "Come on lets go the crafting table!" Hercules grabs Alex's arm then rushing off to the crafting table with Peggy following right behind.

At the crafting table...

"And that's how I will get all turtles to rule the world an I will become a turtle Princess!" John says standing on the table showing a drawn picture with Laurens on a throne and turtles fighting off the humans to Aaron. "You won't be a 'Princess', you're a boy. You'll be a prince or a King." Aaron says grabbing his poorly drawn picture and pointing at Laurens on the throne.

"Sudd up A-a-ron, I'll be a princess when I wanna" Laurens whined while snatching his beautifully drawn picture.

"My name isn't 'A-a-ron' It's Aaron!"

"Nuh-uh It's spelled A-a-ron"

"NO IT'S NOT-" ( calm down Jamal-)

"Guys look Alex- oh wait do you mind me calling you Alex?" Herc asks, his bounce slowly leaving his body. " Yeah you can"

" *Excited gasp* Guys! Alex Seems really cool can he stay with us?" Hercules' bounce comes back. "Sure! he can be my partner in the war of turtles" Laurens says, throwing his hands up in the air. Alexander giggles in response. He sits down with the rest of them and they plan out on how to help turtles take over the world.

Randomly, Alexander feels uneasy, like if he was being hunted. He turns around to see 2 things. Peggy literally jumping of excitement, and a pair of eyes staring at him from the reading center. Like if they stared any longer laser beams would come out and kill him.

Alex gave them the same look back but more intense, the person is taken back, not expecting Alex to glare back. The kid comes out of his hiding spot to reveal itself as Jefferson, his glare get scarier but Alex stood his ground, knowing he can't glare any harder he keeps his glare and continues to stare at Jefferson.

30 seconds past and their still glaring at each other. Like if it was some intense staring contest.

"Alexander, was it?" A woman spoke, causing Alex to turn around. "O-oh yeah.."

The kind women smiles then points to herself "I'm Mrs. Martha... And this shy one is- Oh Laurens we spoke about standing on the table!" She quickly grabs Laurens off the table and onto a seat. "Sorry Mrs. Martha.." Laurens pouts.

"It's ok Laurens. Anyway Like I was saying, Lafayette honey, come on and introduce yourself"

A kid- who looks a lot like the Jefferson kid, emerges from behind Mrs. Martha's legs. Alex smiles "Hi! I'm Alexander! you can call me Alex!" Alex jumps, hoping it would cure his shyness. The boy mutters something under his breath while fiddling with the ends off his shirt. "You can do it Laf!" Herc cheers.

"He's Italian, so he can't speak english that good... He gets really shy about it" Peggy tells Alex. "Peggy it's not Italian it's french!" Mrs. Martha corrects.

"Ohh yeah sorry!"

"My..na-me?..."

"Go ahead honey" Mrs. Martha trying to encourage him.

He takes a deep breath. "Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de Lafayette, but Toi can appelle-moi Lafayette" he says in a very THICK accent.

"Ce est tellement cool! Je n'ai jamais parlé de quelqu'un qui parle français (This is so cool! I never spoke of someone who speaks French).." Alex beams.

Lafayette lights up "Tu me comprends!? C'est tellement incroyable! (You understand me!? It is so amazing!)" he leans in to hug Alex. They both share a laugh while Hercules pouts and Mrs. Martha takes in the moment. "YAY!" Laurens Cheers "You can tell us what Laf is saying! This is going to be the best!" All the boys and Peggy, cheer expect Burr. "Well, I'll leave you guys be." Mrs. Martha turns around going off to the back room. "Don't be rough now"

"Guys I'll be right back" Burr says getting up. "Nah-uh, You stay here, Alex just got here and you're gonna go and talk to Jefferpoo" Laurens grabs Burr and sits him  back down.  "Hey! his name isn't Jefferpoo it's Jefferson!"

"Nuh-uh, He hurt Laf a lot he'a a real meanie" Herc protested.

"Yeah! he also took my yellow crayon and broke it this morning!" Peggy whined. Laurens and Herc went over to confort Peggy.

"He just think you guys are babish that's why" Burr stated, causing Hercules and Laurens to argue with him.

...

" Taffy can I test your english again!?" Peggy bursts. "Ooo can I help?" Alex bounces for the first time today. "Oui" Lafayette smiles. "Ooo Lets get a book!" Alex beams, then turning around to go over to the reading center. "W-wait you need-" Peggy panics but Alex was too busy running  over the reading center to listen. Once he gets there, he sees 3 people.

James Madison and Angelica were on one side sitting on a bean bag. James looks like he was reading a book but later gave up and was listening to Angelica who was rambling about something. On the other side was Jefferson he was also on a bean bag reading a book bigger than his head.

Alex looked over in the different genres of books, deciding which one will be better for Lafayette. Grabbing and putting back the bins, sometimes grabbing a couple books in the process. In a split second, he turns around, reacting to the shifting sound of a bean bag. When he does, he sees Jefferson staring right at him.

They stare at each other for a bit, until Lafayette stepped in the gap between them. "Found book?" Lafayette gives him a nervous smile while trying to block his view of Thomas. "Oh not yet. I don't know which one to chose."

"Ooo ooo! Get the one about the black kitty!" Peggy doesn't get in the reading center, but she points at the book she was talking about. It was right next to Angelica. "Excuse me-" Alex says grabbing both, Angelica's and James' attention. "Could you please move... I need to grab a book."

Angelica stares at Alexander. It's not a threatening look, it's a surprised look. "Uh, are you gonna-"

"OH! yeah sorry!" she apologizes than moving out the way.

It a took while but he finally found the book Peggy was talking about. He picks up the cat book and a few other books he chose for Lafayette. " Come on, Laffy! It seems like a lot but I think you can do it!" The second Alex said 'Laffy' he noticed Jefferson look up at him with anger in his eyes.

As the two boys were about to walk out of the surprisingly big reading center. Lafayette fell face first onto his nose.

"Laffy! are you ok!?" Alexander puts down the books to check on Lafayette. "Ce n'était pas pour vous, arrêtez de vous embarrasser. Il n'est pas censé t'appeler comme ça.(It wasn't for you, stop embarrassing yourself. He's not supposed to call you that.)" Jefferson says digging his head back in the book.

Alex was confused. I thought Lafayette was the only one who spoke French... And if he speaks French and english, shouldn't he be around Laffy to translate?... but all those thoughts got put to the side after processing what Jefferson had said to Lafayette.

"Y-you were gonna trip me?" Alex says helping Lafayette up. Jefferson looks up at him, "Yeah, there's rules here. Starting off with one of them, don't call Lafayette Laffy, only I do that and I also don't like the fact you have a lot of confidence to walk in here like no else is here. Your lucky you're new here cause I wouldn't hesitate to drop kick that butt of yours..." Alex was almost speechless, at the same time impressed by how much sass he had.

"That's dumb. I bet all those rules just makes yourself feel better than anyone else-"

"There aren't dumb, they just keep everyone else out of my way, knowing most of you are.... what do you call it ... idiotic" Jefferson snickers. "Well at least I know the difference between girl and boy colors." Alex snaps back.

The room isn't silent but Lafayette and Peggy can feel the dense yet quiet tension between the two.

"Say it again." Jefferson stands up from the bean bag obviously threaten. Alex notices this and takes advantage of his anger.

"Hey Alexander, allons lire les livres que tu choisis? (will we read the books you choose?)" Lafayette says desperately trying to change the subject.

"Sorry I didn't know you poofy hair blocked your hearing, I said-"

"Kids! What's going on?" The 4 kids turn around to see Mr. Washington hold a stack of papers.

"Jefferson-"

"LAFAYETTE WHAT HAPPENED!" Mrs. Martha shouts grabbing nearly every kids' attention. Lafayette didn't know what she was talking about until he touch his nose.

blood..

"Jefferson-"

"Baby how long have you- Why didn't you- Hunny keep your head up- How- Oh it's ok tell- dear goodness that's a lot of- Imma need you to keep your head up-" Mrs. Martha continues unable to finish a sentence.

Alex walks over to Mr. Washington and pulls on his leg. "Yes son-"

"Don't call me that- Jefferson tripped him"

"W-what?-"

"Well he tried to trip me but LAFFY saved me" Alex emphasizing the name 'Laffy'

Jefferson growls at Alex before reluctantly looks at Mrs. Martha who had a very upset expression. "Jefferson we talked about this" She says sternly. "You aren't allowed to do stuff like this, It's rude and you'll get other kids hurt."

"Well sometimes they deserve it" Jefferson mutters. "What was that Thomas?!"

"I'm sorry Mrs. Washington... Sorry Laffy" Jefferson leans in going to give him a hug. " I didn't mean to hurt you"

"And? who else do you have to say sorry to?" Jefferson glares at Alexander "And I'm sorry.... Alexander." He tries not to gag at the name. "It was an accident.."  

"No it wasn't-"

"Thank you, Now are you going to stop hugging Lafayette so you can hug-"

"No"

"Ok then.. Lafayette come with me so I can help you with your nose."

As Mrs. Martha leaves with Lafayette, Jefferson quickly grabs Alex by the collar. "Pull a dumb stunt like that again I will hurt you bad. Understand?" Alex doesn't answer he only glares for a while until he feels someone pull him away from Jefferson.

"Hey are you ok?" Laurens worries. "He didn't hurt you right?"

"Nuh-uh, He didn't get the chance." Laurens' eyes light up in admiration. "O-ok let's play pirates until Lafayette comes back."

Alex smiles, then takes one more look at Jefferson who went back to the bean bag. Daycare is going to be fun.

I just want to say Mrs. Martha and Mrs. Washington are the same person.

[leafs-lover]

Because Two People Got Drunk: 18.5

Chapter 18.5

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter – in case you want to refresh yourself, although I don’t think it’s all that necessary.

A/N: Italics are flashbacks. Read to the end, its worth it

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, smut, cheating

Word Count: 4100

You sit at the dimly lit bar in your hotel. You sit at the corner of the bar. It’s pretty busy with some groups scattered around the bar but you are relatively alone in your corner. You look to the full glass of whiskey at the seat beside you, ice long melted condensation leaving a ring on the wood counter. This was the drink you ordered for Fred thinking he would have arrived long ago. You grab the drink and throw it back, not nursing it like you did the first patience wearing thin.

You wish you didn’t spend the extra time on your makeup or stressing over what to wear given the current situation. There is a mess of clothes in a pile on your floor, before you finally decided on your black ribbed turtle neck with puffed sleeves. Dangling around your neck on top of your shirt is the sapphire necklace Fred got you your first Christmas as a mom. You paired it with your black and white high-waisted wool skirt and knee high leather boots. Normally you would be concerned about the cool Toronto air, but you and Fred didn’t plan on leaving the hotel limiting your time outside.

The bartender sees the empty cups and you order two more. You pull your phone out to check the time, Fred’s 40 minutes late and the last text you sent is sitting on read has been for the last twenty minutes. Due to your late flight he went out to dinner with Mitch and Auston without you, but he said he’d meet you at the hotel bar once he was back.

A few nights ago Fred stopped by to drop Oliver off at your apartment. While you had been spending a lot of the time Fred isn’t on the road together, those couple days you opted to leave Fred and Oliver to their time alone.

Once finally getting Oliver to sleep Fred pulled you onto his lap while you talked about what they did the last few days. Fred’s hand is gently resting on your waist “I actually wanted to ask you something but I don’t know how it fits in with us taking things slow” His thumb has slid under the hem of your sweater and is pressing circles softly onto your bare skin

Your shoulders stiffen as you put your hands on his chest bracing yourself with a perplexed look “okay…”

“Geez I’m not asking you to marry me, calm down” he jokes causing you to smile. “I love when you smile” he grins pulling you back for another kiss. Your body melts into the touch, relaxing while his tongue swirls around your mouth.

His hand on your neck holds you steady while his other slides around to the back of your thigh giving it a light squeeze. You squirm and giggle but Fred doesn’t release you from the searing kiss. His hand gently caresses your ass while you rock your hips against him feeling wetness pool in your core.

“I get lost in your kiss so easily” he murmurs his lips centimetres from yours.

“Then why stop” you whisper closing the gap between your mouths. Your hands run up his chest into his hair tangling around the roots tiliting his head back while you deepen the kiss. You roll your clothed core over him searching for some friction, causing Fred to groan loudly.

Your mouth slides to his jaw and onto his neck, peppering him with soft warm kisses when he pushes you away slightly. “Because I have to ask you something”

A disappointed grunt leaves your throat and Fred just laughs. You lean back sitting on the heels of your feet creating some reluctant distance between you. “What?” you ask eyes narrowed slightly but a smirk on your lips as you can’t be serious.

“So I leave tomorrow for the road trip” he starts and you nod knowing they play Boston tomorrow, Saturday in Toronto and finally ending the trip on Monday in Montreal. “So a couple of the girls are flying to Toronto Friday and then going to Montreal for some shopping. I wanted to know if you wanted a seat on that plane.”

“I didn’t know they went on road trips with you guys” you respond.

“They don’t go on a lot of them. They sometimes join us on a trip through LA or Florida to spend time on the beaches. Some come to Alberta to do some skiing but it’s not all the common. But there are a couple girls who want to see their or their husband’s family who live in the area and the rest just want to go shopping in Montreal.”

“I see” you respond.

“Given you are from there I thought you might want to go on Friday see your friends and family.” You scowl at that, you haven’t talked to your grandparents since the last time you saw them and don’t see that changing any time soon. “Or just your friends” he laughs.

“I can get two tickets to the game, and if you wanted to go to Montreal you could, or you could fly back on Sunday or even stay a few days longer in Toronto. Up to you” he shrugs.

“What about Ollie?” you ask.

“You could bring him if you wanted, but I asked Christie and she is available to watch him for the weekend. I thought you could use a break

“Okay” you respond. It’s been a bit since you have seen your friends.

“And Oliver?” he asks.

“Am I a bad mom for wanting to leave him?” you ask and Fred just laughs shaking his head. “My friends will be upset not seeing him but I really like the idea of an adult only weekend.”

“No you’re not a bad mom” he brings you in for a soft kiss. “I was kind of hoping you’d leave him, I wanted to book you a spa day with your friends and toddlers can ruin the relaxing vibe in spas” he chuckles.

“Mkay. I won’t complain about a spa day” you smile pulling his face closer, feeling his mustache tickle you while you press a kiss to his lips. “I can come back Sunday night or early Monday morning” he say lips hovering an inch from his.

“I will get you on a flight mid-day Monday so you can sleep in” he says.

“You’re amazing you know that” you whisper placing a soft kiss on his lips. You begin to rock your hips, your kiss becoming hungry.

“You might change your mind” he laughs standing up. Yours arms instinctively wrap around his neck expecting him to carry you down the hall but instead he carefully places you on the floor. He leans down for a soft kiss and when he pulls away you feel it linger on your lips “I gotta be up early so I have to go.”

“Fred” you huff in disapproval eyes going wide “are you serious?” You’re so wet you are almost surprised when you don’t see a stain on his pants

“Yup sorry” he chuckles releasing his hands from you and walking to the door. “He was a little terror because of his short nap and the teething so I have to clean my place and pack for the trip”. You follow him leaning against the wall watching while he bends down to put on his sneakers.

“Have a good night” he smirks placing a soft kiss on your cheek. He chuckles seeing your eyes pleading for more, pupils dark and hungry. Instead of giving you want you want he turns around and opens the door. Your body jumps hearing the heavy door slam shut leaving you alone. A chill runs coarse through your body, but not from the temperature.

You are drawn from your trance when with the clatter from the glasses being set on the bar. The bartender shoots you a soft smile recognizing you have been stood up before turning around. The thing is this is out of character for Fred, the past month or so he has tried to encourage you to join him and Oliver, even taken you on a few dates. You even woke up to him making you breakfast one morning saying “he had to make sure the key you gave him worked.”

You sigh putting your phone back in your purse when you feel a body slide into the empty barstool beside you.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing alone at a bar?” the man asks reaching out for the whiskey in front of him. Fred’s whiskey.

You scoff unsure if it’s because of the line or the drink “that line ever work before?”

“I don’t know, you tell me” he says taking a drink.

You gaze at him from the corner of your eye quickly before bringing your gaze back to the bar in front of you. You lean back in your seat “you should know I’m waiting for someone.”

“I know I’ve been watching you for the last 20 minutes. You waiting for a date?” he asks.

“It was supposed to be but he is almost 45 minutes late” you sigh taking a small sip.

“Wow. When he decided to blow you off did he know you looked this good?”

“He should have” you retort.

The man beside you laughs slightly and you allow yourself to peak from the corner of your eye. He has on dark jeans and a simple grey long sleeve; you don’t see a coat so he likely is staying in the hotel. Your eyes finally meet his and he smirks having caught you checking him out, your cheeks heat up and you turn your attention away. You mindlessly play with the straw in your cup, pushing the ice around. Creating a distraction from the man beside you.

“No need to be embarrassed” he says shifting closer placing a hand on your thigh. Your eyes immediately drop down watching while his pinky toys with the hem of your skirt, playfully lifting it ever so slightly.

“You should be careful; my boyfriend won’t like you touching me” you respond talking a large swig of your drink pushing his hand off your leg.

He clears his throat shifting in his seat. “Not much of a boyfriend to keep you waiting” he says reaching forward for his drink. He finishes the remainder in one final gulp; he sets the glass back down and returns his hand back on your thigh. His hand is cold and wet from the glass and it sends a chill down your spine while also electrifying your core at the same time.

“You from around here?”

“I live in Pittsburgh” you respond taking a small sip scanning around the bar in search of Fred.

“What brought you to Toronto in the middle of winter?”

“Here for the hockey game” you sigh.

His thumb slides up your thigh a bit “oh that’s right you’re Fred’s girl.” Your head immediately snaps up and looks to the man beside you, eyes going wide.

You hastily push his hand off your leg “you should go” you whisper knowing this is wrong. Your whole body shakes an uncomfortable chill coursing through you. It was wrong before allowing a stranger to touch you like that, but knowing he knows Fred makes it even worse. You turn your head back scanning around the bar, still no sign of Fred or anyone you recognize for that matter.

He shifts forward in his seat, his mouth hovering inches from your ear. “Its okay sweetheart I won’t tell.”

You take a few deep breathes and feel his lips gently touch your neck drawing goosebumps to the surface. “So are you staying here tonight?” he asks indicating the hotel. You nod silently shifting from his touch.

You sit in silence for what feels like minutes though it likely wasn’t; your heart beating through your chest. “Well I think I’m going to head out” he says breaking the silence. “You want to come beautiful or you going to sit alone a little longer?”

His warm breath is still on your neck, you look at him from the corner of your eye. He gives your thigh a squeeze and you feel yourself dripping onto your panties. It hasn’t taken much since Fred left your apartment a few days ago to get you wound up.

You bring your glass to your mouth throwing the remainder down your throat wincing at the burn. You scan around the bar seeing the groups scattered around, some of the city lights filtering in through the windows.

The bartender comes over with the bill setting is down. He throws a couple twenties down waiting for your response. You place your glass down; hand trembling under this man’s touch. You turn to face him scanning over his face, pupil’s dark blown with fire.

You pull your lower lip between your teeth, eyes locked on his. You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s wrong, even if Fred never finds out it will eat at you. You won’t be able to look him in the eyes if you go through with this and he will sense something is wrong. Whether he finds out on his own or you tell him everything will be ruined.

You know all this but maybe it’s the excitement, or maybe the 3 whiskey’s you’ve downed in the past hour but you decide against your judgement. “Let’s go” you say jumping up and practically running towards the elevator. As soon as the door closes you press him against the wall hand gripping his arms while locking him in a searing kiss. His mouth vibrates against you and you pray nobody gets on the elevator, knowing your lipstick smeared on his face leaves little to the imagination.

“Fred can never know” you say to the man in front of you.

“I won’t say a word” the man groans spinning you, pressing your back to the wall his hands gripped tightly on your hips.

“Don’t you want to know my name baby?” he groans as your hand slides down to his shaft palming over his denim.

“What’s the point you’ll forget it by the time my perfume leaves the pillow” you respond kissing him passionately.

“Fuck your trouble” he growls the elevator dinging open. He grips your hand pulling you down the hallway to his door; he fumbles briefly with his room key before the green light finally appears. As soon as the door closes his body is on yours slamming you against it. He licks a stripe from your neck to your ear and sucks on your ear lobe spreading your legs apart with his knee.

His hands dig into your hips likely leaving bruises later while he bites your neck. He rubs circles with his thumbs slowly pulling your shirt up to expose some skin. His calloused thumbs press into your exposed skin pinning you under his touch.

You struggle to find your breath his mouth trailing along your jawline. He slowly pushes your shirt up, his fingers leaving a trail of heat on your stomach. He pulls your shirt over your head throwing it aside. You see his eyes quickly gaze over your body with a devilish smirk before his mouth attaches to your chest.

His mouth sucks on your breast, his hand sliding behind you to unclasp your bra. He sucks on the top of your breast, his hand massaging your other while deep groans leave your lips. His mouth trails around your chest and neck sucking harder in each spot.

“Fuck” you groan “no marks.” You run your hands up his body tangling into the roots of his hair. His hands slide up your thigh lifting your skirt before finding your clothed core

“Your boyfriend should see them” he growls “so he knows someone treated you right.”

He bends his knee flexing his thigh into your core, his hand slowly trailing up your thigh. Your skin heats up at the anticipation while you roll your hips against him your core dripping onto his jeans. His fingers dip under your wool skirt finding your lace panties.

“Fuck your soaked” he groans sliding a finger over your slit, any regrets you had long faded from his touch. His thumb presses into your clit your head falling back against the door. His thumb begins rubbing circles in your heat spreading your wetness around. He hooks his finger in your underwear pulling it down your thighs. He spins you pushing you toward the bed throwing you onto it.

He crawls over you pressing his knee into your core; you rock your hips against him feeling the denim on your bare folds. He kisses your neck and chest, leaving a trail until he reaches your waist. He sucks a spot on your hip leaving a dark mark, his hands pushing your skirt higher until it is bunched up above your waist.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders dipping his head in, you feel him blow warm air on your core. Your head falls back onto the pillow back arching off the bed slightly. He wastes no time licking a stripe up your folds moaning when he tastes your juices.

His tongue dances around your folds when you feel two fingers dip in opening you up. His fingers curl inside you. You gasp when his mouth finds your clit and begins to suck. Your hands find his locks pulling his head closer into your core.

His fingers pick up the pace at your motions; him moaning between your legs. His calloused fingers draw inside your walls, your hips lifting closer to his face. He pumps your fingers pulling your wetness as he works you, a string of panted curse words leaving your mouth.

He finds your g-spot smirking when your legs tighten around his head. He keeps pumping his fingers hitting it with every thrust, while your hells dig into his back. His mouth sucks harder on your clit and the familiar burn builds in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m gonna cum” you pant, body squirming at the contact. The man beneath you grunts at your announcement. Your hips buck into his face your coil snapping as your orgasm rips through you. He pumps his fingers a few times working you through your high; your eyes snapping shut your breathing erratic.

You breathing steadies while his fingers slip out of you, you feel him pressing gentle kisses on your stomach. When you finally open your eyes you notice he has stripped. You try to take in his body but he rolls you onto your side to unzip your skirt. He pulls your body up pulling the bunched up fabric down your legs.

Once you are lying on your back he crawls over you engaging you in a deep sloppy kiss. You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips, your body buzzing with fire. You feel his hard member pressing at your entrance coating himself in your juices.

“Please” you whine his tip poking at your folds.

“I’ve wanted to hear you beg for my cock since I first saw you, alone at the bar” he groans and without hesitating he slips inside you stretching you out. You cry out while he pushes fully in, his mouth sucking gently on your sweet spot. He pulls back at a painfully slow pace before snapping his hips back inside you.

He gives you a few slow thrusts causing you to whine under his body. His eyes are dark with hunger as he shoots you a devilish grin. You pull him down closing the gaps between your faces locking him in a sloppy kiss while he slowly rocks into you.

You pull away gasping for air, the taste of whiskey still on his lips. “God you feel so good” he mumbles into your neck.

“Fuck please” you cry needing more from him.

“You’re so gorgeous when you beg” he grunts snapping his hips and picking up the pace. Your hands slide down his back, digging your nails in deep to his skin. He hooks an arm under your knee pushing it into your chest increasing the angle and depth he can hit you.

“You’re boyfriend fuck you this good?” he asks and your eyes go wide. You take a deep exhale with the realization of what you’re doing, but before you can feel bad he hits your g-spot and you begin to fall apart again.

Beads of sweat are on your forehead. You can tell your hair you spent hours on is a mess and your mascara is streaking down your cheeks.

“Tell me I feel better than him. Tell me I’m better than Fred” he growls when you don’t respond.

“Ye…yes” you stumble out. “So good” your breath catches in your throat.

“Say it, say I’m better than him” he grunts bringing a hand to your throat. Your airway begins to restrict as your knee is being placed over his shoulder. You rake your nails over his back leaving some marks, your back arching off the bed.

“You’re better” you croak out between breaths. His eyes darken and the edges of his lips curl upward at your admission. Your second orgasm is quickly approaching and he senses your walls tightening around him.

“You gonna cum all over my cock?” he asks and all you can manage is a slight nod. You feel him getting sloppy above you “I’m gonna cum inside you, teach Fred a lesson.”

Before you can object your second orgasm comes and your vision goes black. Your walls tighten around him nails digging into his muscles. Pleasure rips through you and a string of curse words leaving your lips while he works you through it. You feel the man above you spill deep inside, painting your walls white. He releases your leg and collapses on you, head landing on your shoulder.

Your hand comes up running through his hair, damp with sweat. The two of you lie in silence before he finally pulls out and flops onto his back. You both stare up at the ceiling for a minute, him being the one to break the silence.

“Boyfriend eh” he chuckles turning to rest on his side, his hand gently grazes the necklace around your neck.

“Shut up Fred” you groan rolling your eyes. You go to push yourself off the bed but he pulls you back throwing a leg over you to pin you to the mattress. You don’t bother fighting him and melt into his touch; he gently brushes some of your sweaty hair from your forehead.

“You’ve never called me your boyfriend before” he says kissing your cheek “I like it.”

“Make me wait 45 minutes in a bar for you again and see if still call you that” you joke smiling up at him. His golden brown eyes look down at you while he grins bringing his lips down to yours for a soft kiss.

“Sorry I ran into the goalie coach on my way down and he wanted to show me some footage” he responds.

“For 45 minutes?” you joke.

“No twenty, when I arrived I didn’t see you because it was so busy so I got a table on the other side. Then once I had my drink I saw you and I don’t know, decided to have some fun. I’m surprised you played along” he responds.

“Really? I thought you were going to break first” you laugh. “Especially when I called you my boyfriend” you quirk your eye brows playfully at him. He bites his lower lip shaking his head at you before finally carrying you to the bathroom, you both clean up. While brushing your teeth Fred leaves and comes back in wearing his boxers and he sets a t-shirt on the counter for you

“So am I allowed to stay or do I have to go to my own room?” you ask walking out of the bathroom.

“Technically you should leave, but I’m not letting you” he smiles lifting the duvet for you to crawl under with him.

“Just leave when we’re at practice so nobody sees you” he chuckles.

“So much sneaking around, it’s like were in high school” you laugh turning off the lamp. Fred shifts closer to you, to the point where you are going to be sharing a pillow. You pull Fred’s face closer for a soft kiss “good night Fred” you whisper against him.

“Goodnight girlfriend” he says bringing his lips back to you one more time.

Next Chapter

[bubbyleh]

trick or treat!

Needless to say, when Darnold gives them all their Illusion Charms, Gordon is shocked. With the power of magic, he suddenly looks just as he did on his last night alive, like there’s blood in his veins and air in his lungs. Looking at his reflection when he wears the charm almost makes his head spin.

Joshua, meanwhile, has the exact opposite reaction. He gets all giddy, grabbing onto his face and giggling as he stomps his feet. And his happy little shouting of, “Look, Daddy! Look!” pretty much yanked Gordon right out of his shock.

And an idea plants itself in his mind. An idea that means, unfortunately, he’s going to have to get used to looking like a human again.

†††

Gordon finds Joshua sitting on the floor of the den, playing with his cowboy toys with Bubby and Coomer. Joshua mimes the sound of an explosion and launches his cowboy right into the air, causing his two grandparents to laugh.

“Hey there,” Gordon sits with the rest of them. “What’s going on here?”

Joshua gasps, immediately rushing to begin climbing all over Gordon. “Daddy! Daddy! The cowboy is going to space! He’s going to the moon!”

“The moon?” Gordon asks.

“It’s the best place to go,” Bubby explains. Coomer nods sagely beside him.

Suddenly realizing the time, Gordon addresses Bubby and Coomer. “You guys are usually asleep by now. Joshie isn’t keeping you up, is he?”

Bubby rubs their arm. “Oh, well, actually-”

Coomer interjects, raising a finger as he speaks. “Since Darnold’s Illusion Charm has the added bonus of protecting me from the sunlight, I thought it would be a great idea to try and get on the same schedule as the rest of you!”

“It’s kind of lonely when you’re the only two awake,” Bubby mumbles, crossing their arms.

Gordon chuckles. “Well, since you aren’t sleeping…” He wraps an arm around Joshua, pulling him in close. “I thought of something we could do, now.”

†††

Joshua loves Gordon’s idea. The kid is technically two-hundred and seven years old, but only now is he finally going to get to go trick or treating for the first time! Not only that, everyone is on board with going costume shopping today. It quickly becomes a family trip to Spirit Halloween, rest in peace to the poor retail worker.

They end up finding about a million different cowboy costumes for Joshua to try on, but the second Joshua points out an adult cowboy costume, Gordon and Benrey decide they need to dress up with their son.

It takes a while, but eventually, everyone makes their purchases and heads back to the crypt. Upon seeing the sheer volume of shopping bags, Joshua’s eyes light up.

“Let’s do a fashion show!” Joshua shouts, jumping up and down. “We can show off all our fun costumes before we dress up!”

Bubby is almost too excited.

†††

Gordon knew he should have expected something dorky and cute after Tommy and Darnold disappeared into the realm of couple’s costumes. But somehow they managed to blow his expectations right out of the water with matching carrot and peas costumes. They even somehow managed to find Sunkist a matching pumpkin costume.

“Wow,” Gordon states as Joshua gives the best applause he can. He feels a little silly, being one in an audience of three cowboys, but Benrey nudges him into clapping as well.

“So, what do you think?” Darnold asks. The green of the peas costume provides an interesting contrast to his literally orange glowing eyes.

“Me ‘n Feetman in a year,” Benrey comments.

“I’m not wearing their hand-me-down costumes next year,” Gordon deadpans.

Benrey rolls his eyes. “Ugh.”

Taking that as a compliment, Tommy and Darnold join the audience on the floor. Sunkist flops down next to them, lazily wagging her tail.

Forzen comes out of the door to the kitchen next, wearing a striped shirt, suspenders, and a black beret. Honestly, he’d look like the perfect mime if it wasn’t for his lack of makeup.

“I, uh, only have so much paint,” he sheepishly explains. “And it’s bad for my gills, so I wanna wear it with the illusion.”

Joshua nods understandingly, offering a few polite claps of his hands as Forzen settles on the couch behind him.

A hand forces Coomer, dressed as a turtle, out of the kitchen next, and he offers a small wave. “Hello, Gordon!”

“Hi.” Gordon waves back.

“Bubby wanted me to go next so I would cheer for them in the audience!”

“Turtle!” Joshua shouts.

“Excellent animal identification skills, Joshua,” Coomer notes as he sits down besides Gordon and the child. “Now can you guess this next one?”

And with a great flourish, throwing down firecrackers that Gordon’s very sure they all agreed not to set off in the house, Bubby appears. They have their hands on their hips as they flaunt their frog costume.

“Oh! Frog?” Joshua looks to Coomer for confirmation, who nods.

Once they’re satisfied with their voguing, Bubby settles down next to Coomer.

“Wait,” Gordon says. “I thought you were the last-”

He’s interrupted by Gman exiting the kitchen, wearing a sheet with holes cut into it over his head.

Gordon pauses for a moment. He blinks.

Then, Joshua starts laughing. And he can’t help but join in. Soon enough, all of them are laughing with each other, at the sheer ridiculousness of a sheet ghost werewolf.

†††

“Trick or treat!”

The old lady who answers the door for Joshua smiles at him, glancing back at the group of disguising monsters standing on the sidewalk in front of her house. Gordon politely ignores the crappy zombie decorations littering the lawn. Benrey, meanwhile, keeps bugging Bubby about their frog costume, while Coomer grins between them. Tommy and Darnold seem more focused on stopping Sunkist from running off to introduce herself to every other trick or treater on the sleep, and Gman’s just happy to be there.

“Goodness!” she grins. “You have quite a lot of adults with you, don’t you, cowboy?”

Joshua nods excitedly. “They were all so excited to come with! I’m gonna share my candy with them!”

And though it’s a heartwarming scene, a terrible realization settles in Gordon’s stomach. One that, maybe, he should have taken into account earlier.

Joshua can’t eat candy.

[authorialarcanist]

Gracidea Blossom Chapter 7: In The Town of Incessant Rain

(Pokémon Diamond, Pearl, & Platinum x Little Busters!)

Mirror Links: AO3, Pokécommunity, Spacebattles

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Previous - Next

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Meow?

“You can do it, Lennon! Reach for the stars!”

Meow!

With a determined cry, Lennon pounces at its target, white fur shining under bright ceiling-mounted lights. Its ambitions are frustrated as the fluffy toy jolts out of its way, leaving the Litten to hit the floor on the other side empty-pawed. With an agile hop, it turns to look for its prey.

“Keep going! Only by believing in yourself can you grow into a proper warrior!” Rin waves the toy - a simple stick with white fluff modeled after a Minccino’s furry, white-tipped tail on one end - and brings it back down into her Pokémon’s sights. Lennon makes another attempt to catch the toy, and yet another as Rin leads it on a merry chase around the room.

At the moment, they’re inhabiting a small side room in a Pokémon Center, one of several set aside for Trainers to battle or train their Pokémon. The ubiquitous Pokémon Center Theme can still be heard filtering in from the main rooms of the building, but it’s quiet enough to blend with the sound of rain pounding down on the roof and the roads outside.

After their meal, Rin had brought her and Riki’s Pokémon to be healed while Riki and Kengo ran for a store to grab more than a single umbrella’s worth of rain gear for the group. Masato vanished to who knows where for his muscle training and Kyousuke went to get a start on his advertising gig, leaving Rin to her own devices. After waiting a short while for the Pokémon to be returned in full health, she retreated to the training room to let them stretch their legs.

MEOWWW! Lennon cries triumphantly as it finally snags the Pokémon toy out of Rin’s hand with a flying tackle.

“Woah!” Rin’s jaw drops when she realized what happened. “Well done, Lennon! Could it be you’ve become a proper warrior already?” Lennon preens, only to hiss in surprise as the ground yaws beneath it. It scrabbles with its claws, finding no traction in moist soil as Terra dumps it off from where it had landed on the Turtwig’s back. Terra snaps at the cat Pokémon indignantly.

Lennon bristles, and starts to circle the Turtwig before being cut off by a sharp “No!” It looks back at its trainer, who continues, “I’m watching Terra and Sly until Riki gets back. You’re not allowed to fight them.” A minute passes, the Litten withering under Rin’s stare, until it finally gives up and slinks back to her side. “Good kitty.” Lennon arches its head up into Rin’s palm as she pets it. “Oh? Do you want a treat?”

Nya.

“You want some Mon petit?”

Nyaa!

“You’ve already had some today. You shouldn’t eat too much between lunch and supper, or you’ll get a bellyache.”

Nyaaa…

Rin shakes her head. “I’ll give you this, instead. You diddo well today, after all.” Smiling brightly, Rin pulls out a plastic container full of small, colourful cubes. She places a red one in the middle of her palm, offering it to the cat. Lennon sniffs the candy block and then laps it up, tickling Rin’s hand in the process. “You too, Santa. Come here.” This time, the Pokéblock she offers is pink, and the Chingling looks up from the other side of the room where it has Sly wrapped up in its tendrils. It lets go, (Riki’s Bonsly looks relieved at the release from its cuddling,) and wanders over. After a couple of tries, it gets its jaw around the Pokéblock and jingles happily at the sweetness.

Rin slips the rest of the Pokéblocks back into her bag. They’re not all that easy to find in Sinnoh, so she has a limited stock until her brother takes another trip to Hoenn. There are Poffins, of course, but… She glances at Santa as it tries to crunch down on its treat. When it comes down to how cute her Pokémon look eating them, Pokéblocks win every time!

“Hm?” Rin becomes aware of a gaze fixed on her, and turns to see Riki’s Pokémon staring balefully. “Ah…”

Terra blinks, first with one eye, then the other.

“I really shouldn’t… I mean, you’re Riki’s Pokémon, and he might have his own plans…”

Sly looks like it’s on the verge of tears.

Rin folds. “…Okay, fine. It’s our secret, alright?” She fumbles in her bag to pull out a couple more Pokéblocks, glances both ways to confirm nobody’s watching, and slips them to the Pokémon. “You’re not allowed to tell Riki, got it?”

Terra crushes one of the blocks with its beak.

“Woah!” A tugging sensation on her clothes draws Rin’s gaze back to Lennon, who is trying to climb her like a tree. One of its claws goes a little too deep, and nicks her skin for a moment. “Aah!” She jolts, and the Litten flops to the ground in surprise. “You have to be more careful, Lennon! People aren’t as tough as you are!” She pauses. “…Well, Masato might be.”

Meow~ Lennon rolls back and forth on the floor.

“You’re really brimming with energy today.” Rin watches Lennon roll around her in a clumsy loop. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Roll… Roll…

“Did you have that much fun battling?”

Lennon comes to a stop once it’s right-side up and meows at her.

“What about you, Santa?”

The Chingling bounces up and down, its bell sounding every time it pushes off the ground.

“Hmm. Well, I’ll tell you a secret, then.” Rin leans in close to her Pokémon, and whispers, “I did, too!” She deftly lifts Santa into her lap, and runs her hands along its rope-like appendages. It cuddles up closer to her in pleasure, and she pats the smooth top of its bell.

“Hmmm…” Rin plops her chin on one hand and hums to herself, deep in thought. “Hmmmmmmmmmmm…” Her head tilts slowly to the side as she thinks, approaching a 90 degree angle. Once her head hits 45 degrees, she straightens up. “I’ve got it!”

Lennon sits and looks up at her, tail swishing on the floor.

Rin nods, filled with self-satisfaction. “Tomorrow, I’ll ask Riki to battle me!”

——

“I still don’t understand why I have to do this…”

The next morning brings with it the hustle and bustle of the big city. Businesspeople dash to their places of work, some with bagels dangling from their mouths. Children rush to their schools, chatting with friends as they do. Nearly everybody is carrying rain gear of some kind - while the rain let up overnight, the skies above the city are still cloudy and threatening.

Although the crowds disquiet Rin, she nonetheless pushes through, dragging Riki behind her until they near Jubilife TV. Across the street from the TV station, set smack-dab in the center of the city, is a refreshing spot of green that stands out amidst Jubilife’s rocky greys.

“It’s so we can fight,” Rin responds matter-of-factly. “Masato, Kengo, and Kyousuke are all too strong for a real match. If I want to battle someone, it has to be you.”

It’s not much compared to Amity Square, but Jubilife’s sole park - boasting wide stretches of grass, a fountain, and even several trees all scattered around a path dotted with benches - remains a popular spot for elders and children who want to be amidst living things without venturing into the wilder routes outside the city. Rin pulls her friend past several benches until they reach a dirt battlefield in the shade of the massive Global Terminal building.

“No, no, no, that doesn’t follow at all,” Riki sighs. “First of all, nobody said we’re the only Trainers in the world! I’m sure you could find someone who wants to battle at the Trainer School or the GTS!”

Rin glances behind her at the building in question. It’s a huge, multi-story cone of glass and steel, with a tower on the roof pointing satellite dishes in every direction. Originally called the Global Trade Station - the first in the world, Kyousuke once told her with a gleam of patriotism - over the years it grew beyond its original purpose as a glorified signal-booster allowing interregional Pokémon trades and became a general all-purpose gathering point for the region’s Trainers to communicate with both each other and their counterparts in distant lands. Even as far away as she is, Rin still gets the impression of hundreds - maybe thousands - of strangers crowding within, all shouting over each other, their shadows twisting and merging into a multi-headed beast—

The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “Of course I can’t do that, dumbass!”

Riki steps back, hands in front of him placatingly. Whatever further arguments he was going to present die on his lips. “Okay, okay… I’m sorry. Still, are you sure you’re alright not being able to talk to strangers? You’ll have to manage on your own someday, won’t you?”

Rin shakes her head. “You and Kyousuke will be there,” she says simply.

“Ah…” Riki doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that. In lieu of further debate, Rin points her Pokéball at the ground in front of her and presses the button on front, causing it to shoot out a red beam that materializes into Lennon. Riki gives up and throws his own Pokéball, his eyes widening as Terra appears across from the fire cat. Lennon darts for its opponent, and Riki fumbles with his belt. “Crap! Terra, return! Go, Sly!”

“Lennon, use Lick!” Rin seizes on the opening without remorse, and her Litten lashes the Bonsly with its tongue before the Pokémon can get its bearings. “Now Roar!” Sly is still staggering back when Lennon lets out an intimidating yowl, and before Riki can react his Pokémon is hiding behind his legs.

“Sly—“ Riki grimaces, and after a moment he sends Terra back out into battle. The turtle Pokémon has no choice but to take an Ember attack head-on upon reentry, but it shakes it off and lumbers forward. “T— Terra, use Tackle!” With a determined cry, the Turtwig plows through a second Ember to ram into Lennon, sending the cat stumbling back. Lennon jumps out of the way before it can take a second attack, and readies another Ember, but both combatants are flagging. A third Ember should be enough to finish Terra off, but… its physical attacks are strong enough that it might be able to take Lennon out if it gets luck— “Come back, Terra! Sly, I’m counting on you!”

Rin clicks her tongue in frustration as Riki backs off, and switches Sly into an ineffective Ember attack. Even if the Bonsly has a better type matchup, Terra’s been weakened enough at this point that it won’t be able to recover from the tempo loss of switching back in. No matter how she tries to push, the spark she felt the previous day just won’t come. Riki is all over himself with hesitation and openings; she doesn’t feel an ounce of fighting spirit from him. “Charge him, Lennon!” Lennon darts for Sly, as Rin bets it all on getting in closer than Rock Throw’s effective range.

“Sly, use R— I mean--“ Riki hesitates just a moment too long. “Er, use Flail!” Paralyzed by its trainer’s indecision, Sly takes Lennon’s Lick attack before it can retaliate. The Litten goes down, but before Rin can switch in Santa to finish the job, she’s interrupted by what sounds like thunder rolling.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIIIIIIIIIIS!” Rin clamps her hands over her ears and screws her eyes shut at the explosive shout. When the noise dies down, she takes in the sight of a tall, wiry old man in a green robe. His mustache, goatee, and spiky hair have all gone white with age, and he’s glaring at the two of them with brown eyes. “JUST WHAT DO YOU CALL THAT DISPLAY?”

“…A Pokémon Battle?” Riki cocks his head at the old man.

“Pah! I’ve fought better Pokémon Battles than that in my sleep,” The aggressive geezer growls. “I’ve seen Pokémon Coordinatorswith more aggression than you, kid! And as for you!” He wheels on Rin, who steps back involuntarily.

Before he can advance any further, she settles on a preemptive strike! She bristles and shouts at him, “Nobody asked you, old man!”

The geezer explodes again. “WHO’S AN OLD MAAAAAAAAAN!?” His eyes flash with anger, and his shout echoes around the park. As though in response, the clouds burst open and rain begins to pour down once again. Quivering under the huge stranger’s shout, Rin kicks into fight or flight mode, and miserably succumbs to her only option.

“Rin! Wait up!”

She runs away.

——

Rin presses her back against the wall of a building, half-sheltered from the rain by the lip of the roof. Her breathing is slowing down again now that she’s gotten away safely, but… she’s traded in for a new problem instead. She’s lost and alone in the big city, surrounded by people she doesn’t know. Even now, strangers with ponchos and umbrellas rush up and down the street, causing Rin to flinch back whenever one passes too close. Occasionally a member of the faceless mass slows, as though debating whether to approach her, but they always pick up their pace when she hisses at them.

“Rin! Thank goodness, I finally found you… Are you okay?”

Rin jumps at the sudden voice calling out to her, and glances around wildly. Her body tenses up, ready to make one last desperate attack… and then she recognizes the voice as coming from Riki, standing in front of her with an umbrella. The pent-up energy transfers to her voice as she speaks a little too quickly. “I-I’m fine!”

“Are you sure? You looked kind of—“

“I said I’m fine!” Rin glares at her friend, daring him to contradict her.

“Ah… Alright…” Riki blinks first, averting his gaze. After fidgeting for a moment, he hands Rin a folded-up umbrella. “Oh, right. By the way, you dropped this.”

“O-oh. Thanks, Riki.” As she falls back into a familiar routine, Rin slowly relaxes. She unfolds her umbrella - courtesy of Riki and Kengo’s shopping trip - and steps back out into the rain. “…I guess we should meet back up with the others.”

Riki falls into step with her as she turns back towards the hostel where Kyousuke arranged for them to stay. “You’re not going to say we need to finish that battle?” he asks.

Rin just shakes her head. “No point.” The scary old man was right about one thing - she’s certain, now. She’s not going to get the challenge she wants from Riki.

“I see…” From the look on his face, Riki clearly doesn’t see, but he follows along nonetheless. Rin continues to glance around warily, some instinctual part of her still convinced that an enemy is going to accost her. In the end, however, she and Riki encounter nothing but puddles and thunder-cracks as they walk through the sodden city.

——

“You want us to what?” Masato’s jaw drops.

Rin stares at him unblinkingly. “Help me train,” she repeats, brooking no argument.

“Well someone’s had a change of heart. Didn’t we have to bribe you the last time we wanted you to learn something? Why the sudden change?” Kengo drums his fingers on his arm.

Rin had wasted no time in making her demands when she and Riki arrived back at the hostel. She’s not sure what’s so hard to understand about it. “I just want to. Riki’s not enough to give me an interesting battle -” she ignores his halfhearted ‘Hey!’ - “so I need to try something else.”

“Hmm. Well, I guess that’s reasonable…” Kengo plows over Riki’s murmur of ‘You too…?’ to give Rin a nod, but Masato interrupts him.

“Woah, woah, hold on! After all the trouble she gave us, Rin gets to just plow in here and demand our help like it’s a given?” Masato frowns and crosses his arms. “Shouldn’t we at least make some demands of our own?”

Rin glares at him. “Like what?”

Masato thinks for a minute, face scrunching up further and further. Finally, he gives a defeated shrug. “Heck if I know. Ugh, now I’ve got a headache…”

Rin looks on with naked awe. “What an idiot!”

“Uwoooh! At least don’t call me that when you’re asking for my help!” Masato covers his face with his hands and lets out a groan of utter despair.

Rin places her hands on her hips. She can’t help but feel that they’d strayed from the main point. “Anyways, help me train!”

“No, he’s got a point…” Kengo scratches his chin. “You really should be polite if you’re asking a favor.”

“Ugh…” Rin grimaces. The conversation is going off the rails, fast. She looks to Riki for support.

“…I’m sorry, Rin.” Riki shrugs helplessly. “It is important to know how to ask for help properly…”

Rin groans. She glances around, as though something in her surroundings would grant her an escape route.

The world is not so accommodating.

Finally, she clenches her fists, screws up her determination, and shouts, “Please, train me!”

She hears Masato’s astonished voice. “Woah… Did Rin actuallyjust ask us nicely…?”

Her eyes still closed, Rin half-bows to her friends. She’s certain that with this, she and her Pokémon will be able to battle and grow closer. This is how her story begins. “Please, help me get stronger so I can challenge the Gym!”

[sanders-geeks]

Time will Tell chapter 1

Word count: 925

Warnings: none

Pairings: none in this chapter-eventual prinxiety

~

Declan wished he knew the two boys on either side of him better, not that he particularly minded sitting by them on the bus. He couldn't remember their names, but he knew that when everyone in his class introduced themselves on the first day of school he liked their names a lot. Maybe he should ask.

Before he could, the one in the red t-shirt turned to him, revealing a yellow lion on his shirt. "Hi! I'm Roman."

“I'm Declan!"

Roman grinned, showing that he had already lost one of his two front teeth. "Do you like The Lion King?"

Declan frowned in confusion. "I don't know what that is."

Roman looked horrified at this, throwing a small hand to his chest. "It's one of the best Disney movies ever!"

Declan thought for a moment. He knew what Disney was, sometimes he saw commercials for Disney movies and toys and posters for new movies when he went to the theater with his dad, but he hadn't ever seen any of them. "I'm sorry. I haven't seen any Disney movies."

Roman's chin fell quickly as he leaned around Declan. "Virgil, he doesn't know The Lion King!"

Declan turned around as the other boy- Virgil- spoke. "Who is he?"

“That's Declan. He doesn't watch Disney movies!"

"Oh." Virgil bit his thumbnail as he seemed to ponder this. "That's okay."

Roman shook his head, letting his light brown hair fall over his face. "Can he come to the playdate this weekend? We were going to watch a movie anyway, right?"

Virgil nodded. "Okay."

Roman grinned again, this time sticking his tongue through the gap in his smile. "Are you excited about the field trip? I'm really excited because I want to see the fish and I think there's an otter. Those are really cute! Maybe they'll let me pet it."

Virgil looked up again. "They won't let you touch it! It might get scared."

Roman looked disappointed for a second, but he shrugged it off quickly as he turned to Declan again. "What do you want to see?"

Declan barely had to think about it. "The snakes!" He had been excited since he learned his second-grade class was going to the aquarium. His dad had taken him for his last birthday and he loved seeing the snakes in the reptile house. They had quickly become his favorite animal, and he had been asking his dad for a pet one at every opportunity.

Roman looked a bit surprised. "Really? I thought you would say the turtles because you kind of act like Virgil and he likes the turtles a lot, because he drew one on his paper when Mr. Rosas was talking about them in class on Tuesday."

"I like the turtles. But I like snakes more. My dad took me to go see them at the aquarium on my last birthday and they were really cool."

Suddenly, a louder voice interrupted them. "Alright, class, we're here! Everyone find a buddy and stick with them so we don't lose anyone, okay? Everyone stay seated for a minute." Their teacher, Mr. Rosas, headed off the bus and the driver closed the door behind him. 

The students stirred into activity again, yelling to friends that they wanted to be partners with. Roman grabbed Declan's arm and leaned over, telling him that he should grab Virgil too. Declan obeyed and reached for the other boy's arm as Mr. Rosas stepped back on the bus.

"Does everyone have a buddy?" A few kids yelled no, so he took a moment to pair up the last few students. "Okay, that should be everyone. Everyone hold your buddy's hand as we get off the bus, and remember to keep an eye on them while we're here!" All the students started swarming off the bus, shoving past each other to get off before everyone else. Everyone got off the bus and grouped around the front, running around the water fountain outside. Mr. Rosas led everyone inside and the class gazed around the entry room in wonder. It was enormous, brightly lit from above with skylights that let in the sun. The walls were all blue, with metal animal silhouttes- one of the vocabulary words from last week's test- and stripes in darker shades of blue. 

Mr. Rosas made sure every student was inside before going to the front of the group. "Alright, this is Maggie." A young woman in a blue polo shirt standing next to him waved and grinned at the group. "She's going to be our guide today, so she'll be taking us around to all the animals so we can see everything. If you have any questions, ask either me or her."

For the next two hours, the group walked around the aquarium and looked at every animal (with a break for lunch in the middle). Virgil was right about Roman not being allowed to hold the otters, but Roman still liked them. Virgil loved the turtles, as expected, and Roman and Virgil practically had to drag Declan away from the snakes. 

Back at school, they sat together and at the end of the day, Declan promised he'd be at Roman's house for a playdate with him and Virgil on Saturday, giving Roman his dad's phone number so their parents could talk about plans. When Declan walked in the front door after his bus ride home at the end of the day, his dad greeted him cheerfully and asked how his day at school went.

Declan grinned. "It was awesome, dad."

~

How to access other chapters: just look up #time will tell chapter [whatever you need]

TAGLIST (message me to be added)

@goose1083 @starwarsdestroyedme @thequeerfestivebin @theantisocialghost

[sweetcatmintea]

Three Two One

Flash fiction Friday and I went over word limit again <.<;; Not as badly as last week but maybe next week I’ll actually stay under the 1000 word limit orz

I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you have as much fun reading it! Feedback is appreciated ^u^

Prompt: Jumping Fences

Words: 1467

----------

          “What in the actual hell do you think you’re doing!? Get away from me Dillan or I swear, I’ll beat you into the dirt.” Growled threats tumbled out, fleeing while she stayed stuck. Trapped. He didn’t stop. Hands hovered over her temples, tingling the hairs standing on end.

          “You think I want to do this to you Alex? I never wanted it to come to this…” He sighed. “Don’t worry. I’ve been practicing. It’s not going to hurt.”

          “Practicing my foot! I don’t goddamn care! Untie me!” Alex jerked in the seat, restrained by whatever Dillan had lying around. Belts, tape, cords. Pathetic impromptu tools. Clearly, he’d been thinking of this for a while but hadn’t bothered with the details. It was strangely offensive. She wasn’t even worth a plan? Snapping in his direction, her teeth clipped the air where his hand had been. Dillan frowned, sighing again. He needed to concentrate for this to work. The tears in Alex’s eyes misted his own. Her distress was paralysing. He had to steel his resolve. This was for the best.

          “I get that you’re scared! I really do. But you can’t go on like this. You’re an adult but your parents lock you away – Don’t give me that look. You know it’s true. I’ll make it so you can be free. You aren’t going to remember this. Any of it! Just that I’m your friend and you are rooming with me for a bit. You can finally be yourself!”

          The god damned arrogance! “Are you kidding me?? Mr Hero In Training wants to brain wipe me, his friend, because my parents are protective? God Damn it Dillan! What are you thinking? You’re right! I am an adult and I choose to stay with my folks. I happen to like them! Let me go already! This is ridiculous!” This was exactly why her parents were protective in the first place. When she was born, delicate and doe-eyed, her fate had been written in her soft features. In a world of heroes and villains, she’d been assigned the role of Damsel. In a way, she’d expected to face this situation one day, but not like this. How could she have known that Dillan would go screwy? He was alignment checked – chaotic good – and halfway through his hero course. More than that, he was her friend. Now he was hovering over her, awkwardly avoiding the daggers she glared into his stupid superman t-shirt.

          “Look, it’s really not even a big deal. I’ll count down, touch your head and poof! You won’t remember anything bad either! I wouldn’t do that to you. Y’know, lots of people would love to forget their past. I’m doing you a service.” He faltered at her stormy face. “A-anyway. It’s not like I’m going to tell you anything weird like we’re dating or whatever. Just trust me, it’ll all turn out. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all thi-”

          “You’re monologing because you’re a godDAMMED VILLAIN!”

          He took a moment steadying himself from her outburst. “I guess I’m just trying to make things easier for you. Anyway, I’ll count down from three and you’ll get to start a whole new life.”

          “Seriously, stop! I don’t want this! Whatever you’re going through, we can talk about it! Please, just let me go!”

          Three

          Alex had met Dillan at university. Her parents were apprehensive about her studying, rathering she get a non-descript job at a little bookshop or something, but nothing could dissuade her from psychology. She wanted to help other Damsels who’d been toyed with in some comic book game, then tossed away once the level cleared. She wanted to help villains overcome whatever had pushed them towards evil in the first place. You can’t solve every problem by punching it after all. Their classes ended up working together on a joined assignment. Heroes and psychs preparing for future collaboration. A paired assignment and, unsurprisingly, Alex was the last approached. It’s not all that convenient to be associated with a Damsel after all. Dillan all but tripped into the room, tardiness becoming his trademark over the following classes, and was stuck with who he could get. Dillan was being trained to use his mind control power to de-escalate hostage situations and Alex was all about cognitive mechanisms. They had a lot in common and got along very well. Alex’s parents were ecstatic that she’d finally made a university friend. His hero status wasn’t great news, but at least he’d look out for her, right? That’s how they made peace with it at least. She didn’t want to lose their time together.

          Two

          Alex’s other friend, Wisteria, had a smeared name, like her. Unlike her, she was no Damsel. Dark hair, smoky eyes, and a mystery at the best of times, she wore her alignment like a cloak. Chaotic evil. Villain material in the making. Her ability didn’t help matters. They met in self defence class. She always had a quiet kindness about her, hard to see to those who were not looking. Alex offered to help her with a shoulder throw she was struggling with. They worked until Alex couldn’t take it anymore. Wisteria’s under breath quips getting the best of Alex, leaving her cackling on the floor like a moron. Their friendship thrived in the form of a contest. Whoever could make the other smile more, won. Wisteria’s advantage of a naturally stoic countenance may have left her reigning champion, but they were both cramping with laughter by the end of their frequent meetings. Would Wisteria keep smiling without her?

          One

          Was this all because Alex had bailed on a party invite? She’d been chatting with Dillan that morning and he’d started talking about an upcoming party. It was 90% hero first years and Alex just couldn’t deal with that level of drunken ego today. Polite pass with an excuse about promising to be home early. Something about crimes on the news, parental worry, yadda yadda. Dillan had laughed it off, promising to snapchat a play-by-play commentary. It was all the usual stuff. That was until they were walking off to class. Alex had gone to jump the fence. A spectacular fail. She slipped, landing on her back like a geriatric turtle, winded. Next thing she knew, she was tied to a goddamned chair about to be reprogrammed. Dillan must’ve taken advantage of her lowered defences, sneaking into her brain while it was still trying to get breathing back on track. It didn’t matter. Not anymore. He was going to fry her. She didn’t bother stifling her sobs. What about Captain Fluffington? Who’s going to explain to him what happened? Is he going to spend his life thinking she’d abandoned him? She didn’t want this she didn’t want this she didn’t want this!!

          Restart

          One breathy word. Alex screwed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to forget. She braced against the oncoming touch. It never came. Squinting through cracked eyelids, she could have screeched with joy. Dillan was grunting, struggling to move. Wisteria loomed in the doorway. Murder etched into her face, she almost shook with anger. Her shadow snaked across the floor, clamping onto Dillan’s with its intangible hands, rooting him in place.

          “You told people Alex was with me last!? Way to throw me under the bus you intolerable drivel merchant!”

          Her fist smashed his jaw. An audible crack and he crumpled, a suspended ragdoll until her shadow released him. He moaned when she nudged him but didn’t get up.

          “Sorry it took so long Lex. The police didn’t believe I was in class all day. We had to show them surveillance footage so they’d let me go.” She made quick work of unbuckling Alex. “You okay?”

          As much as Alex wanted to brush it off and play it cool, all she could manage was a watery ‘Mn hm’. It had been so close. Half a second longer… A tidal wave of relief and what ifs crashed over her. Knees now jelly, she started bawling again. Wisteria wrapped her up in a hug while she cried into her shirt.

          “I ought I asn’tgoinooeeyouagaiiinnn!” (I thought I wasn’t going to see you again.)  

          She chuckled. “You couldn’t get rid of me that easily. This is the sort of stuff I’m training for.”

          Wisteria ran a hand through Alex’s hair and it was the most comforting thing in the whole damned world.

          Managing to calm down to, at least, coherence, Alex whispered “I was so scared Whis.”

          “I know. I’m sorry it took so long. It won’t happen again. I’ll always drop everything to come save your sorry butt. My alignment is chaotically self-interested after all. You are very important to my self.”

          Alex huffed out a laugh. There’s a reason Wisteria’s her best friend.

----------

Tag list

@cawolters, @inexorableblob, @inkovert, @snobbysnekboi, @kainablue, and @i-rove-rock-n-roll

[amplesalty]

Christmas 2019: Day 4 - A Very Harold & Kumar 3D Christmas (2011)

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

Four rounds of sliders!

So, turns out I had the title of this movie wrong, it’s not just A Harold & Kumar Christmas, it’s a 3D Christmas! Which also answers the question of where we go from the second movie, apparently out goes all that racism and in comes just so, so many shots of things flying at the camera.

It’s 2011 by this point, have we not left all this in the past? Hell, they were doing this in House of Wax when I watched that last year and that was back in the 50’s. To their credit, they do poke fun at the whole 3D thing at times, like near the start Harold’s assistant brings in a big ass TV meant as a present for Harold’s father in law. Harold questions if the whole 3D thing hasn’t jumped the shark by now but his assistant disagrees, exclaiming that it’s going to be ‘amazing’ as he points down the camera for emphasis. Harold just dryly asks who he’s looking at.

Harold has been moving up in the world it seems, now a very successful businessman on Wall Street. Unfortunately this comes during the whole ‘Occupy Wallstreet’ movement and the streets outside his office is lined with protesters wanting to eat the rich. Perhaps with a side of eggs which they throw at him by way of the camera lens.

Like a good soldier though, his assistant steps into the line of fire and takes a barrage of eggs to the face. RIP in peace. They have this whole musical sting whilst it’s happening, I feel like this has to be referencing something but I’m not sure what, war movies aren’t my thing.

Harold’s father in law by the way is played by non other than Danny Trejo, which is a rather scary thought. Trying to impress the father in law is bad enough without factoring that into the equation. He’s predisposed to disliking Harold as well given that his mother was killed by a bunch of Korean street thugs when she came over to America.

We learn that in his youth, Mr Perez dreamed of celebrating Christmas with a Christmas tree but would never get his wish. It was only upon reaching America that his mother promised they would have one every year, only for his life to be cut short. That’s why he holds this season and Christmas trees in particular in such high esteem. We also learn that apparently he was born with his moustache, which honestly wouldn’t surprise me with Danny Trejo. Also, someone being viciously murdered by street thugs seems a bit dark for this franchise.

Speaking of facial hair, Kumar is still a layabout bum who got kicked out of medical school for failing a drugs test. I do dig the beard though. Vanessa has left him though and he lives in filth with a neighbor who rents out his bathroom to let homeless people take a shit. So yeah, little bit of a mismatch on how our two heroes lives panned out over the last 7 years. I’m digging the beard though, but he promptly shaves it off under the pretense of trying to finally mature somewhat when he finds out Vanessa is pregnant.

Although, he is a little distracted during this revelation by the unfolding scenes of A Christmas Story and Flick getting his tongue stuck to the flagpole. Clearly an Xbox man as well, seemingly playing some Crackdown and Gears of War recently. This isn’t like that time I kept seeing It’s A Wonderful Life everywhere, is it? I’m not going to start having A Christmas Story pop up in all these movies, am I?

H&K are reuinited for the first time in two years when a package turns up at Kumar’s apartment addressed to Harold, which turns out to be a massive joint. Kumar lights up, only for Harold to play narc and throw it out of the window. Miraciously though, it curves around and flies back in a different window, lighting up Mr Perez’s Christmas tree and nearly burning down the whole house. This only reinforces what a negative influence on Harold’s life Kumar is and it looks like our duo are going their separate ways again. But, this does give us our impetuous for another hour and a half of whacky shenanigans because if Harold doesn’t fix that tree, there’s a good chance Mr Perez might kill him.

So we get the odd foursome of Harold and his new white bread bestie, Todd (and his daughter) and Kumar and his neighbor, Adrian, out on the lookout for a tree. This does lead to perhaps the most racially driven portion of the movie as they head to a tree lot run by two African-American guys trying to do this ‘good cop, bad cop’ thing, the Fat Albert looking guy playing nice and the other wondering what a pair of honkey, cracker, white ass fools are doing coming up in their turf.

Turns out Mr Perez isn’t the only one out to kill Harold though, as the tree search takes them to a party by way of Adrian who has a hookup waiting for him that he met online. She’s a virgin because apparently all the guys at school are scared to go anywhere near her. Adrian realizes that’s because her dad is notorious Ukranian mobster Sergei Katsov. At first I thought this was Chris Meloni making his third outing in the series but no, it’s actually Elias Koteas who was Casey Jones in the Ninja Turtles movies.

After Adrian goes soft upon finding out this information, Mary will settle for anyone at this point and goes to start blowing Harold right in the middle of the party. An inopportune time then for Daddy to come home and find what looks like an Eiffel Tower situation going on.

Even after they barely escape though, the nightmare is far from over as they start tripping and think they’re in the middle of a multi storey evil snowman attack. And, this all takes place in claymation. This is a really awesome scene, the design of the snowman is great and the level of destruction going on is amazing.

I could do without Kumar showing off his clay cock though, I only dread to think how much worse this is in 3D with him waving it about in your face.

Luckily, old buddies Rosenberg and Goldstein are there to shake them out of their bad trip and take them to White Castle to relax. Man, they have a much easier time getting their this time. They’ve clearly learnt from their past experiences. Along with the whole 3D into the camera gimmick, the racism angle has been replaced somewhat with religion, notably here with a whole speech about how Goldstein’s wife had him convert to Christianity and him just going in on those ‘dirty Jew bastards’.

That and the use of his son as a distraction so Harold & Kumar can go steal a tree from a church. ‘Pillow fight in the altar boys room, last one there is a rotten egg!’. Going in on the Catholics as well, I see.

And of course, the big one, the main man JC. Apparently Heaven is like a nightclub and we get the story of how NPH was ushered in the front door following his altercation at the whore house. Only, Jesus didn’t take kindly to NPH macking on his ladies so put in a word to the big man upstairs to send NPH back down to Earth. I mean, it’s not 100% to the letter but I’ll take this as I fucking called it.

The third part of the trifecta of racism replacements in this movie is metaness. There’s a good example here how they call out NPH coming out of the closet in real life, only to reveal that NPH is as big of a poon hound as he’s ever been and this is all just a trick to get the ladies. David Burtka? He’s not his husband, he’s just his dealer!

There’s a couple of other moments like someone referring to Harold as ‘Sulu’ or Adrian saying he lied to Mary and said he was Robert Pattison’s acting coach and that Kumar worked in the White House.

NPH is starring in some big festive stage show and sweet talks one of the dancers back to his dressing room, suggesting she strip down so that he can give her a massage. Hey, it’s cool, we’re all girlfriends here, right? Now just give him a minute so he can squirt some of his special lotion on your back...

He hooks up H&K with a tree from the set but before they can head home, the gangsters catch up with them take them to a secluded part of town for an execution.

But as they make their escape, Harold finds his dick has become stuck to the pole they were tied to. Okay, firstly, between this and Office Chrstimas Party, I’ve seen just about enough dicks to last me til the end of the season. Secondly, maybe this is God’s way of reminding me that I have some unfinished business with A Christmas Story. Sure there was the original and that sequel no one asked for but there is another...

And just in case you forget this is a Christmas movie, Harold inadvertently shoots Santa out of the sky and Kumar has to perform impromptu surgery, because he always does. Santa being played by Richard Riehle who was in Grounded for Life and, relevant to this blog, Chillerama and the Rob Zombie Halloween II. Turns out he was the one who sent Harold the massive joint so that the two of them could reconcile. I never knew Santa cared so much about the friendship of two potheads. I don’t know if he’s a good fit for Santa though, a little too gruff and mean. Doesn’t have the heart of say, an Edmund Gwenn. That could have been an alternate way to do this actually, have a totally sacherine by the numbers Santa that gets corrupted by H&K when they get him to smoke with them, he’s on too much of a bad trip to deliver the toys like normal so it’s up to them to save the day.

I think I would have to put this above the sequel but behind the original in terms of quality. As one note and as fleeting an appearance as he is, the Ukranian gangster somehow feels more of a threat than the entire US government in the second film. Keeping this adventure local again makes it feel much more grounded and there’s just a more light hearted atmosphere to the whole thing when you don’t have that massively racist and oppressive tone pressing down on it.

[cartoonemotion]

i wrote a fic on the spot about splinter and his first few acts of Daditude

read it here on ao3 or underneath the cut !

It doesn’t hit Lou right away what he’s stumbled into; in fact it takes weeks before what it all means finally sinks in.

Sure, he grapples with the fact that he feels betrayed and foolish for trusting Draxum, so easily flattered by him that he was blinded to what he was really planning all along. He, reluctant to admit it, even feels afraid of what will happen next; if he’s found by Draxum as he is now, grappling with his mutation- a mutation he doesn’t know the full effects of yet. He feels confused, and lost, and sick with guilt, completely alone for possibly the first real time in his life.

But he isn’t alone. Carefully tucked in between the meager amounts of clothes he was able to grab, on top of the other limited personal items (mostly fan mail and such, which he tries not to feel vain and stupid for taking), are four turtles.

The first few weeks, Lou mostly feels sorry for the turtles.

The lack of documentation and funds makes finding any shelter hard enough, but his continuing mutation means not even squatting in some old house or shelter will suffice. He feels relieved, almost like a genius, when he thinks to retreat to the sewers. Lou might not be any kind of expert, but he knows turtles need to be somewhere damp, with lots of water. Sewer water isn’t ideal, obviously, but it’s better than nothing.

It is, however, cold. And if it’s cold for Lou, it’s freezing for the turtles; they instinctively pile on each other, clumsy foot on shell or a hand in the other’s face, but it does nothing to quiet their shivering. Lou piles what clean clothes he has on them, tries to bundle them together, but it doesn’t help much. The oldest of them- Red- is able to move around the most, and with more confidence in his motion than the others, and will often do his hardest to crawl onto to Lou, even wiggle his way under his shirt. So for many nights, Lou scoops up the turtles, cold and clammy as they are, and tries his best to keep them all together and relatively still, and tries to let them sleep. He, himself, does not as much- his guilt is still raw in his mind, and while he knows what he did was the right thing, he worries if he’s saved the four of them just to be unable to keep them alive on his own- but the weight on his chest slowly becomes routine. That, at least, convinces him to close his eyes and rest.

Not long after the sewer becomes more of a shelter than a hiding place, Lou’s brain decides it’s fair game to become irritable.

Maybe because he had almost fooled himself into some kind of sense of normalcy; he has, from sneaking above ground, coveted something almost like a home. He has a bed now, bottles of clean water, he even found a beaten up projector that miraculously still worked, which he was more thankful for than the bed and the water combined. Not to mention the most helpful of all, the woman at the pet store counter who wrote down some basic turtle care advice, even though he’s sure he creeped her out with his lurking around and odd gait, all covered up to try to keep himself inconspicuous. She did act like she had dealt with worse; he had to give it up to New York for that.

He is irritable, but he isn’t mad, of course. Getting mad at babies is pathetic and cruel, and getting mad at baby turtles seem doubly so. But he is sleep deprived, developing chronic pains, frustrated with his new physiology, and starting to wonder if he’s going insane. The turtles writhe and cry, probably from the cold and hunger, and Lou really can’t blame them. He feels like screaming and crying himself.

“What? What is it?” Lou can’t stop himself from sounding exhausted, picking up Orange, who without fail always wailing the loudest. Thinking maybe it’s the cold, he tucks him in his arm, trying to rock him while managing more of a weak shake. Orange merely shrieks louder, which in turn causes all of his brothers to respond in kind. Lou feels like the sheer shockwave of the noise is going to peel the face from his skin. His head is splitting. Suddenly, Red clamps his jaw around his bare foot, in a bite much more firm and painful than somebody his size should be able to create. The resounding ‘fuck’ probably carries all the way to New Jersey.

“Alright, you’re in time out!” He pries Red off his foot, scooping him up beside Orange in his arm. He grabs Purple and Blue too.” You, you, orange, me! All of us need a time out.”

Time out is not on their agenda, however. Blue wriggles away from the crook of his arm and starts scrambling up to his shoulders. Orange starts thrashing, trying to follow his older brother’s suite when Lou tries to twist around and grab Blue again, slipping free and clumsily slinking up the back of Lou’s neck. A franticness he has never experienced in his life crushes Lou’s heart in its hands, stopping it dead as he feels Orange slide off, already starting to fall. Almost automatic, he shoulders Purple against Red, lurching forwards on one foot to catch Orange in his free hand. Blood rushes in his ears. Orange squeals in delight and starts wiggling, trying to repeat his steps again.

And then it hits him; they’d all been bored. He sighs with relief.

“You think that’s funny, do you?” He scolds, though there is absolutely no bite to his words, and he is, in spite of himself, smiling. “Giving me a heart attack?” He collects Blue from his spot on his shoulder, and sets them all down gently. There is a slight murmur of disappointment, then Lou picks up Orange, in a smooth motion, spinning him around high into the air. Not long after the other three are tripping over each other, tugging at Lou’s ankles.

Lou lifts them up, gives them piggy-back rides, and generally resigns himself to being a playground for hours. Somehow, it feels like the most fun he’s had in decades.

Lou, after spotting a gray hair (hair, not strand of rat fur), decides it’s time to pass on the greatest staple of his legacy: grooming.

The turtles are hairless, obviously, put playing in sewer grime is no good; nobody under his watch is going to go on smelling like the inside of a rusty pipe and growing mildew on their shells. Even though turtles are supposed to love water, Lou has never met any living thing more opposed to baths than the turtles. Worse yet, it’s getting hard to rope them all in.

Orange is still getting his legs under him, really, so he is the easiest to catch, though he protests the loudest in wordless, floundering terror. This alerts his presence to all of his brothers;  Blue has mastered his crawl, sliding half on his belly as his kicks and wriggles away faster than anything with a shell on its back should be able to. Purple uses his scrawniness to hide in corners and under the bed frame, making it difficult for Lou to reach. Red has grown bigger than Lou thought he would, and much quicker than he thought he would, too, and is able to toddle around on two legs. Lou feels like an idiot chasing after him while he screams “No!” over and over again. He gnaws on Lou’s arms all the way to their makeshift tub, a large bin that, while big enough for all of them, is beginning to be a tight fit with Red’s growth spurt.

Still, the turtles all try to kick and splash around as Lou scrubs them all down, stilling only when he washes the spaces where their shells meet the skin just under their collarbones. Washing their face causes a lot of grief, especially from Blue, who has not yet totally learned to keep his eyes closed so soap won’t in them. After he gets them all in the rhythm of it, though, they calm down; Orange blows bubbles at his brothers, Purple climbs up Red’s spines to keep himself afloat better, and Blue splashes the water in front of him, amazing himself. Lou then has to convince them to get out of the tub just as much as he had to convince them to get in.

He knows the second he sets them loose, they’ll waste no time getting just as dirty as before. But looking at them, grouped together, bundled up to their nostrils in towels, he only feels a kind of tired satisfaction.

When their personalities really start to emerge, that’s when Lou realizes he’s not just Lou, by himself, with some turtles who he makes sure don’t all die. Previously it had seemed more like what he imagined was the normal, random behavior of babies, with the secondary turtle instincts of course, but day after day, the turtles make their own distinctions perfectly clear.

Red, as the oldest, is the first he really notices. Though not able to do much more than babble nonsense, it’s easy for Lou to tell he has a lot of Strong Opinions about things, as much as a baby turtle living in the sewer can have. He’s gotten over his teething, but doesn’t seem to understand the force he puts behind his movements all the same; hence when he starts to roughhouse with his brothers, Purple either shuffles away or is discreetly moved away by Lou himself. And does he ever love to roughhouse; even sitting in front of the reruns of Lou’s movies, he moves along, sloppily and uncoordinatedly trying to mimic the kicks and punches. More often than not, he clumsily ends up hitting himself in the face.

(Lou was worried, at first, at showing them; less out of the conceit of babies not grasping the masteries of cinema, but more worried if they would recognize his face when they grew up, now so far removed from what it once was? What would he tell them? How could he explain?)

Purple was curious, even notably for a baby. He began hoarding things, sneaking junk under Lou’s bed, sometimes in the sheets (the amount of times Lou had rolled over the jagged edge of some something or other in his sleep, he swears). He was beginning to form into a little drama king, too, throwing himself on the floor and wailing like he’d been shot when Blue stole a toy he was playing with, giving Lou a heart attack every time thinking he’d broken his shell. Lou tied a pillow around his back, which he would sometimes try to wiggle out of, but more or less learned to use to his advantage.

Blue was dramatic himself; not as much as Purple, but enough that Lou couldn’t help but laugh at him sometimes. He was more clingy than his brothers were, pitching a fit if he were ‘alone’ for more than four seconds, finding no issue in simply shoving Purple, Orange, or Red out of the way to get Lou’s attention. Lou figured he was well on his way to becoming a life-long antagonizer, but he supposed, while they were all so little, it couldn’t do much harm- he simply couldn’t intervene every time he swiped toys or tried to ride his eldest brother like a horse.

Orange, being the youngest, was not as obvious as the others, but he was beginning to show the startings of his personality. He still insisted Lou carry him most of the time (probably because he kept tripping over his shell and ending up stuck on his back), and he scared easier than the others, but there was no doubt in Lou’s mind how attached to the other three he was. Near-inseparable, really- crawling on Red’s back, teething on the edges of Blue’s shell, clumsily rubbing his hands all over Purple’s face, if at least one of his brothers were present, he was not far behind. It made him the easiest to find, if nothing else, and the one to get in the least trouble, much to Lou’s relief.

And in spite of their differences in personality, all of them loved Movie Time.

Lou had found a chair- an amazing chair, who would throw out such a good chair?- thrown into the sewer on night, and had immediately taken it home. A full recliner, padded, with a pillow sewn in and everything. And usually, after breakfast, lunch, lunch two, dinner, or in the middle of the night when none of them would sleep, Lou would sit in his chair, turtles piled on him, and watch a version of himself captured in fuzzy technicolor that he simultaneously was envious of and relieved to see. The turtles themselves would come rushing whenever they heard the projector whirr to life. Red had even almost said “hot soup” one time, which made Lou cry in earnest, despite himself.

And as he sat there, watching the last shot fade to credits, stealing a look down to see the turtles had fallen asleep- as he figured they would- Lou realized something that he should have realized the second he had stepped foot in the sewer, the four of them cradled in his arms. He, without even knowing it, had become a father.

“My sons,” He sighed to himself, so as not to wake them. “I really need to give you real names.”

[senor-plume]

Reunion

   Henry throws on his favorite shirt, a concert tee that he got at an Arlo Guthrie concert some years back. Pulling the shirt over his head, he eyes the bottle of ale that sits on the kitchen table. Reaching out with his left hand he grabs the bottle and takes a long pull from it. Friday night and not a thing going on. Luckily.     With the drink in his hand he walks over to the living room window and takes a peak at the great outdoors. Folks arriving for a CYO event at the school across the street. Looks like a basketball game as he spies on the young girls showing up in their cheerleader outfits. Some adults walking in and a young man about 20 has his head stuck into his cell phone, texting as he moves straight ahead. Henry closes the curtain tight and walks away quite glad that he is not playing a game of basketball tonight. As much as he complains about the loneliness of his life, he has adapted to it and some nights, such as tonight, he is glad for his solitude lifestyle.      The television is on but thankfully muted while the record player spins the vinyl album around at 33 and a third. A collector of sorts, he stops and stares at his records. A massive amount that must be well into the thousands. His father started him out young to the pleasures of music and he never looked back. His dad left him his old records from the 40's to the 70's when he passed away. Alphabetized, he goes down to one knee to look through the Z's. Pulling out Frank Zappa's first album he takes the record from its sleeve and stares at the grooves that the needle reads. Henry can, and will spend hours now gazing at his collection with pride bursting up through his soul. Nothing can or will make him as happy as rummaging through these records and trips to the Salvation Army for more is his true joy in life.      Stopping only to gather up a plate of nacho's and a few beers, Henry has just spent the complete Friday night alone with his records. He plans to leave the house tomorrow morning for a trip to the local hotel where a huge record sale will be going down. Once a month there is a gathering of all types of venders selling off their albums and other music related items. Henry looks forward to this with unbridled glee. He takes to the computer and after seeing there was not one email waiting for him he begins to compile a list of albums that he must have and hopefully he will be able to find them there. Some records he just never stops looking for. Years and years he has waited for somebody to sell them off. A Beatles record nicknamed the Butcher Album due to the cover showing the Fab Four dressed as butchers covered in raw meat and doll parts. A true and rare collector's item. He saw one once when he was visiting his sister in California. He had it in his hands and as he always does, he smelled the inside of the cover. There really is nothing finer than the scent of an old record Henry believed. The asking price for the album was a hefty 1000 bucks which he did not have at the time. He has saved up for the day it would appear to him again. He would not miss out on it twice.     With the need to take a piss Henry, drunk now, as he always is on the weekends, stumbles to the bathroom. Holding on for dear life he lets out a long sigh and out of the blue the telephone rings. He usually unplugs the fucking thing on the weekends but he must have forgotten.  The answering machine pick up. It is a woman's voice and it is unfamiliar. Without washing his hands, Henry walks to the bedroom to hear the voice say goodbye and then the tape rewinds. Who the fuck could that be? Henry presses play and he listens in carefully.   "I'm looking for Henry Coda. If this is the wrong number I apologize but I really want to find him. This is Anna Baez. I went to school with Henry back in the 80's and I would like to invite him to our schools 25th anniversary. It's this upcoming weekend…seven days from now and it will be a ball. So Henry, please if you could join us at the school at 7 in the gymnasium… I would be thrilled to see you again. We all would. It will be a blast. I hope this is the right number. Call me at 722-5733 to let me know if you can come. Thanks and goodbye."     Christ. Anna Baez. Henry takes a long drink from the bottle…killing it and he heads to the bookshelf to pull out his senior yearbook. The cover says Binghamton Central High School. It has been years since he has looked at this thing. He takes a seat on his bed and opens the book. He flips through the pages with a bored look on his face until he comes to the page he wants. Under his nose is a picture of Anna. A blonde beauty that was quite popular in school. Unlike Henry she excelled in school, running for class president and winning. A cheerleader and if he remembered correctly, she was crowned prom queen…a prom in which Henry did not attend. His book was signed a few times and he reads a few. "Have a great summer Henry…see you at the college." "Henry, keep playing that guitar and I am certain you'll be top of the pops in no time." "You are one weird fellow man. Don't change."    Henry never ended up going to the local community college and he never made it to the top of the charts. He was still weird and he has barely changed since the 80's. He closed the book and placed it back on the shelf. He remained on the bed thinking of school. How he hated it and most of the kids there…except for one girl…Nancy…or Nan for short. Nan, he had the biggest teenage crush on. She was always friendly with him but she was dating the same guy from their freshman year right up to the senior year. They were friends…she was kind to him and although her boyfriend hated him she didn't care. She was nice. Rising from the bed he began to think about her. Nan, I wonder if you are even still alive and if you are I bet you have fourteen kids and a beefcake husband. He wandered out of his room and made it to the kitchen to grab a fresh beer. Cracking it open he heard the needle hit the label on the record he was playing and he knew it was time to flip it over.    Playing the Stones now he could not get his mind off of that girl. Nan. Henry hardly left his house for any kind of social event. Skipping family reunions and the like. But this…this could be…interesting. He wanted to see Nan and that was the only thing that made him pick up the phone to call Anna back.     She answered right away and sounded genuinely pleased to hear from him. She told him that he was all set. That it was to be a casual party and that he could bring a friend or spouse if he wanted to. Henry asked how many people have signed up to go and she told him that it will be a packed event. "Expect at least a hundred kids to be there. It will be lots of fun. And Henry, feel free to bring some of those records of yours with you. I bet we would all like to hear them." After saying goodbye and hanging up Henry crawled into bed and found himself…drunk and daydreaming about Nan and just what he could say to her. It made him nervous just thinking about it and soon he blocked it out and fell asleep with the full bottle of beer next to his head. ——————————————————————————————–                    After about four beers Henry was ready to leave for the reunion. Dressed in khakis and a seersucker shirt he bent down to tie his shoes when he felt the urge to throw up come over him. He ran to the kitchen sink and made it just in time. Four beers down the drain, all sudsy and wiping tears from his eyes he went to swig some mouthwash around in the bathroom.       Outside now Henry tucked the cuffs of his pants into his socks and jumped onto his bicycle. The school was only a few blocks away and it was a pleasant night. He had no intention of trying to impress anyone there. His bike was fine and he enjoyed riding it more than driving anyway.      Along the way there his nerves grew worse and he checked the time on the side of the bank on the corner. 7:15. He was late and he did not care. He toyed with the idea of not showing…no one would miss him anyway but Nan…he was dying to see what became of her. He stopped his bike in front of the tavern Rocco's and parking his bike on the side of the building. He went in. "Henry! Long time no see my friend. How goes it?" Rocco extended his hand and Henry shook it with a weak smile on his face. "Get me a cold one please Rocco. Lord knows I need one tonight" "What's the big occasion? You got a hot date tonight? If you do, bring her here. I'd love to see the kind of girl you could pick up Henry."       The bartender, a black guy with muscles that would put Schwarzenegger to shame cracked the top off the bottle of Bud and handed it to Henry. He took hold of it and brought it to his mouth and drained half of it in a mere two seconds. His eyes darted around but he found himself slowly calming down. The television above the bar was on showing some soccer match and the jukebox was playing the old Turtles tune.. .'Happy Together.' "Henry, it's been a while, a few days now perhaps since you last walked into my establishment. What's been happening to you? You depressed? Did a fire destroy your record collection or something?" "No. Just been busy is all. Listen Rocco, I need your advice here. I'm now headed to my 25th reunion at school and I am rather nervous about it all. There is a girl there…or a woman now and I really want to talk to her but I am a social dud. I have no idea what to say to her. What's a good ice breaker? Something that won't make me look like a total dick head. Just a little dick head." Rocco smiled and said " Ah Henry, you seeing an old flame tonight? Some girl who used to give you hand jobs in the basement? Something like that eh?" "No…not at all. Just a girl who I was friendly with. Though I have to admit that I dreamed of her and those hands giving me some relief. I don't know. I can't think of what to say to her when I see her. I need your help here."   Rocco pulled up a stool and thought for a while. "What did you guys used to talk about in school? Back then. What did you talk about?" Henry thought for a while and he said `music.' "Ok, then you talk about that. Just say that you heard an old song on the radio and that it made you think of her. She'll be pleased to hear this…hopefully and there you go. You'll be off to the races." "But I never listen to the radio…all those commercials and that terrible hip hop music they play now a days…It gives me a head…" “Then, forget the radio part…just say you heard a song…somewhere… and it made you think of her. Just wing it from there. She'll want to know what song and then you'll be in a real conversation and I bet it will be the first one with a woman for quite some time. Am I right?" Henry sighed and took a drink from the bottle. "Yeah, music, that's kinda what I had planned on anyway." "That's all you ever talk about actually Henry. This is the first conversation we've had that wasn't about music or music related. You must really be nervous." "Yeah, I am. What time is it Rocco?" "7:30." "Shit, I gotta go. Thanks for the help. I appreciate it, man."     Rocco wished him good luck and said that if he gets lucky with the girl to bring her over to the bar so he could see what all this nervousness was all about. Henry killed his beer and slammed the bottle down on the bar with a determined thud. He stood and with a wave left the bar and found his bike waiting for him. He climbed aboard and began his trek to the school. ————————————————-      Inside the gymnasium it was sweltering. He was informed at the front desk, where old Anna Baez was sitting, that the air conditioners were on the fritz and to expect it to be a little warm in there. Warm? It was horrible. Henry went immediately to the bar and ordered a beer. A nice cold beer would really hit the spot and maybe calm his nerves a bit.    Drinking, he looked down to his name tag. Henry. Who the hell is going to remember me anyway? This is a mistake. He had a few friends in high school and they all went to universities and left him in his hometown alone and friendless. Sure, he knew some of the guys and gals at the record conventions but he wouldn't be able to really call them friends. He was a lonely guy who simply loved his records and beer. He looked up and watched all the people milling around and some dancing. A few guys whom he recognized as old jocks were standing at the bar, drinking and laughing, without a care in the world. Henry felt the sweat dripping down his back and he flapped his shirt a few times to get some air in there. His ears pricked up when he heard a Duran Duran song playing and he was just about to head over to the DJ booth to talk to the guy about his CD's when he saw Nan walk in. The light from the gym was weak at best but he knew it was her although he could not read her name tag. My goodness…there she is he thought to himself. I'll just wait for a while to let her mingle with the people that she really wanted to see and then, then he would walk up to her and reintroduce himself to her.        Henry wiped his brow with the back of his hand and struck up a conversation with the DJ. They shot the shit for a few minutes when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Nan smiling ear to ear. "Henry Coda…my God…you look exactly the same. You really do. My goodness…how are you?"       Henry's shirt was sopped with sweat as he opened his mouth to return her greeting when a group of guys walked up to Nan and began to talk excitedly to her. Henry shrunk back to the DJ booth and just stood there watching them enjoying their conversation. I wish I was normal he thought to himself. I wish I could talk and feel carefree with others. Instead I am a sweating fool all alone with social anxiety and a drinking problem. He took a swig from his plastic cup and turned around to stare at the wall.     A few minutes passed while a Van Halen song played. Henry began to recall the time he had bought the album which this song came from when he heard a woman's voice say something. He turned around to see Nan staring at him. "Hello…anyone home? I've been trying to get your attention for a minute now silly. Daydreaming about music I bet. This Van Halen song sure brings back the memories don't you think?" "I was just playing this song a few days ago actually. All in all it's a great album with very little filler. Sure, a few of the songs aren't all that great on it but not many records from that period were masterpieces. You know what I mean?" Nan smiled at him and told him that he has not changed all that much from 25 years ago. Henry smiled and tried hard to think of something to say to her. He decided to ask her about her life now but she spoke first. "So tell me Henry…tell me about your life. Are you married? Is your rock and roll wife around here somewhere?" "Wife? Ha, no…No wife. Never. Never was married. You?" "Well, remember Davey? My boyfriend in school? We married after college and 10 months later we were divorced. Still to this day I have no idea what went wrong but that band of gold on my finger just cursed us. It was something else, I'll tell you, I won't be walking down the aisle again, you can count on that." Henry looked down at her finger and even in the bad light he could see that she was not sporting a wedding ring. "Gee, I'm sorry about that Nan. Geeze…will he be here tonight? Davey?" "No, he moved to Washington State after our divorce was finalized. I haven't seen him in years now. No kids…thank God." "Oh…well that's good I guess…divorce can really be hard on kids; at least that's what I've read in magazines and all. So…you live around here?" Nan answered his questions and boy was there a lot of them. Henry at times felt like he was interviewing the poor girl but he really had nothing else to say to her so he asked questions. Query after query but she didn't seem to mind at all. They talked for a while when he realized he was in dire need of a drink. He tried to back step a bit to get closer to the bar hoping that she would follow him…slowly but two steps back into his plan she stood right there, not moving an inch. He would have to ask her if she would like a refill on her wine…or what appeared to be wine. Maybe it was punch. It was red and that was all he could tell. In a break in the conversation he asked her if she would like a refill and that he could really go for a cold beer in this stifling heat. "I know! It's so hot in here…I can't stand it. Want to go outside for a bit? I could use some fresh air and besides…and don't tell anyone but I am dying for a cigarette." "Outside? Certainly. I'd like that. I'm beginning to melt in here. Please just let me refill my beer here. Can you wait?" She nodded her head and Henry went to get a beer. Turning to Nan he asked her if she was good. She replied that another cup of wine would be great and she handed him her now empty cup. "…A nice cold Michelob and a wine please Jerry."    The bartender filled up the two glasses and they headed outside. On the way to the front doors Nan was greeted with many hellos. Henry couldn't remember her being so popular in school. It was mighty crowded and Nan grabbed his arm and pulled him along and he was happy to be lead away out of there. Outside the cool air was a Godsend. They both needed the cool night air on their hot skin. "Now this is much better, don't you think Henry? So, tell me now…back in school you loved music more than anyone I've ever known. You ever made a career of it? You in a band or anything?" He felt like he was letting her down as he went on to say that not only was he not in a band but that as a career he chose media marketing. "What exactly is that Henry?" "You know those jingles you hear on the radio? I write them. I make commercials for the radio and television." "Oh my, how interesting…anything I would know?" "You know Champs Fried Chicken? The chain of chicken places? Well that one ad..the one that goes:

`Champs…is the place to be when your down and hungry, a dollar 99 is all you got? you'll dig our chicken, you'll dig it a lot.'

I wrote that." "Holy shit Henry, I know that song! It's the catchiest tune like ever! Wow…I'm with a celebrity here!" "Ha…well…it pays the bills. It's not going to get me a gold record but I suppose I can't complain." "Well, I think it's awesome…simply awesome Henry. I'm not as famous as you but I guess my job is ok…I sell real estate in North Carolina. I'm not rich or anything but like you, I can pay the bills."     Henry found himself relaxing a bit. The cool night air did him well and he found that he could keep up his end of the conversation. He went in a few times to refill their drinks. He was feeling alright by the time of his 7th beer of the night and Nan was really knocking the wine back. They talked about many things and a few people even recognized him as they made their way out of the gym to return home.    Around the time of Nan's fifth cup of wine she realized that the party inside was dying down. "I should really go back inside and mingle a bit more. You wanna come along with me? There has to be other people you want to see besides me." "Not really, Nan…in fact the only reason why I came to this high school heat wave was to see you. You were always so nice to me…don't think I've forgotten it these many years later." "Oh Henry, that's so nice of you to say. Shoot…I should go back though. You sure you don't want to come with me? I'll buy you another drink." Henry thought about it and decided not to go in. "I'm sorry Nan but it's really too hot for me in there. I'm going to head to Rocco's for a nice air conditioned beer." "Sounds splendid. Ok…I understand. "It was nice to see you again Nan…really. Take care now." "I will. Thanks for visiting with me. I had a ball. Enjoy Rocco's" And with that they hugged each other goodbye and went their separate ways.

      Around 1AM Rocco was placing the chairs up on the tables when there was a knock at his front door. He checked the time on his wrist and went to tell them he was closed. Through the door he saw a woman standing there. "I'm sorry Ma'am but I'm closed now. I open at 9 if you still need a drink in the morning." The girl was swaying a bit but managed to steady herself. "Is Henry there? Henry Coda? I'm a friend of his." Rocco opened the door and told her that she just missed him. "He left about 10 minutes ago. You don't happen to be Nan are you?" "Yes..why?" "Oh boy was he going on and on about you. You made quite the impression on him tonight. He usually only talks about music but not tonight. It was Nan this and Nan that. Sorry you missed him." "Yeah, me too. Please tell him I stopped by ok?" "I will. Goodnight." And with that she turned away and headed back to her waiting taxi. “Thanks for waiting. Please take me to the Serling Hotel.”   The driver nodded and turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the tavern.  Nan, drunk… rummages through her purse as the taxi speeds through the early morning darkness as the car radio plays an REM song and Nan smiles to herself as she zips up her bag and quietly sings along to the tune as it plays.    

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

A conclusion

Today I feel weak. I am sad to say that I have decided to fly home and end my trip all together. It’s been a wild, incredible ride.

I don’t think I have it in me to go back into solitude for a couple hundred more miles at this moment and I so badly want to go home to comforts and sleep with my cat. I think that recognizing ones limitations is a strength; and right now it’s hard for me to give myself this affirmation. There is no doubt that I am and will inevitably feel guilt about not meeting my goals of mileage on the trail, and I know I will be processing this for months to come.

I am trying to brace myself for the shock of being back to an over-stimulating, loud, fast-paced life where one can easily travel miles with such speed. A life of conveniences and accessibility. A life of societal standards and expectations. A life where it is too easy to be critical of oneself and where there is hyperawareness of how one is perceived.

Today, I walk on a moving sidewalk to my gate in the airport, reflecting, feeling exposed as I wipe tears streaming down my cheeks with my long sleeved hiking shirt. I take out my sunglasses for a little privacy. I want to throw up, I am overwhelmed with panic and fear. I will be flying over half the distance of the pct at 1610 miles from Portland to Dallas. As I board the plane, the gate agent asks me if I’m okay, I quickly nod and continue. I want to be invisible.

The sounds of phones, electronic toys, and grumpy children echo in the plane cabin. The volume feels amplified. I feel uncomfortably close to the passenger who takes the middle seat next to me. The screen on the seat in front of me displays an image of a flight attendant; she smiles assuringly, trapped within the illuminated surface, positioned next to digital entertainment options. I turn off the screen.

It feels like I have a large marble in my throat, making it hard to swallow, and my stomach is in tight knots. I have never wanted off of a plane more in my life, I try to focus on my breath, inhaling and exhaling into my tear soaked bandana. I will not have a panic attack on this plane.

I had heard of post-trail depression from hikers and that ending a long-distant hike can feel like coming down from a drug, that it can feel very shocking and isolating- after having such an intense experience that generally most people cannot understand.

It’s 5:30 am. I slide open the plane window and stare at the dimly lit, dawn sky, imagining waking in my tent. Mt. Hood stands tall on the horizon line. I miss the trail already, but no longer feel emotionally fit to continue. Am I making a mistake? It’s possible. All I know is I feel alone right now, and I don’t know that I have the emotional strength to be alone, yet I also have the impulse to hide, I feel like a burden to others; like an alien, broken, jobless, and unsure of what I want, coming home on impulse. I am battling the feeling of failure. Will I feel even more isolated off trail?

I take a reminder from the trail- that I can make this what I want. I can take this gaping hole in my chest and fill it with my worst fears and panic. I can feel upset, embarrassed, ashamed, and disappointed in myself. I can dread making decisions of what comes next. Or, I can be proud of the hardships that I’ve overcome. I can fill that hole with the love and support I have from others. I can remember that the trail will always be there and I can come back and complete sections that are unfamiliar to me in the future. I can remember that everything is temporary and life is always fleeting.

Some just aren’t as strong as they hope to be. But then again, how does one define strength? Is strength different for everyone? Is there strength in feeling weak? Is there strength in embracing emotion? I certainly started my journey thinking so. Right now, I am vulnerable; a hiker disconnected from their pack, unsure of what home is; a turtle without a shell; a soft interior, exposed.

I’ll remember being weighed down by my newly acquainted pack, hunching over, waiting for Andi to pick me up after arriving at the LAX airport before starting my hike. I’ll remember how naive I felt after completing my first section, inexperienced, unaware, and full of doubt, post-holing in snow, the hidden trail and fearing for my life. I’ll remember the light blue, milky ice lakes of Silver Pass. I’ll remember the river crossings through white water that took 30 minutes to navigate; mostly because I was too scared to do it. I’ll remember the lonesomeness I felt looking out of my tent into the vacant white landscape. I’ll remember the intense pain I felt as my blistered feet trekked my first North California section. I’ll remember the fluorescent, chartreuse lichen adorning massive pine forests. I’ll remember the incredible scents of mountain sage, cedar, sap and sugar pine. I’ll remember facing my fear of heights, hiking the loose rocky Sierra Buttes, and the vertigo. I’ll remember when descents felt more painful than inclines, and walking slow. I’ll remember hiking my first 10 miles by 10 am, feeling light and invincible. I’ll remember feeling like a bottomless pit for calories. I’ll remember my sweat-soaked, dirt-crusted clothes and salty body. I’ll remember pushing through my first over-20 mile day in the burns of Lassen National Park and camping in a thunderstorm, puddles in my tent. I’ll remember the long water carries in 85+ degree, shadeless heat of Old Station. Ill remember the green meadows freckled with wildflowers. I’ll remember giving myself the agency to speak my mind to strangers, uncensored, and in return being called critical and defensive. I’ll remember the isolation I felt in regards to my identity. I’ll remember the generosity from strangers, hitchhiking and trail magic. I’ll remember the joy I felt as I started my first Oregon section and the weep-y lichen draping over dramatic tree limbs. I’ll remember the 300 miles of aggressive, giant mosquitos in the green tunnel of Oregon; wearing my non-breathable rain jacket, steaming. I’ll remember night-hiking under a starry sky, through massive lava fields, feeling like I’m on another planet. I’ll remember the incredible blues of Crater Lake and one of the most beautiful sunrises I’ve witnessed. I’ll remember hiking 30 miles in one day on the flattest section of the trail, feeling dizzy at the end of the day, scrambling to find a site to tent in the dark. I’ll remember the silver, ghostly, burnt trees; a hauntingly beautiful forest that seemed to whisper old tales. I’ll remember when I was so captivated by the tundra of Mt. Jefferson, that I briefly forgot about the mosquitos. I’ll remember feeling happy to step in snow again. Ill remember the bear, the weasel, the coyote, the many deer, lizards, snakes, jays, and the birds I could only hear and never identify. I’ll remember the loose soil that seemed impossible to hike through around Mt. Hood, and the purple lupin reaching up from the soil. I’ll remember the tiny ecosystems, like terrariums, growing on decomposing logs. I’ll remember the rhythm, the rocking and rolling, the gliding, stumbling, falling, dancing and flying. I’ll remember telling landmarks how beautiful they are as if they would reply. I’ll remember the magic of the lone hummingbirds visiting me. I’ll remember the cool breezes around the bend and the expansive views on the ridges. I’ll remember being totally present and meditative. I’ll remember my breakdowns and panic attack’s. I’ll remember the deafening silences in the night. I’ll remember the symphony of morning birds. I’ll remember the street-light moon. I’ll remember the fiery skies at dusk and the alpenglow. And I’ll remember making it to Bridge of the Gods on the Columbia River, walking halfway, against traffic with no pedestrian lane. I’ll remember the overwhelming support I’ve had from my friends and family.

I am sure I will return to the Pacific Crest Trail in due time. And I am already looking forward to my return.

Thank you all so much for keeping up with my journey. If your heart desires such a thing, I hope you get a chance to experience the trail for yourself.

With love,

Lauren (Cam)

[whatifitscool]

The movie that saved my life.

By Daniel-Paul Crowe

Before I get started,

This is not a review on the movie itself but how 1 movie can affect your life in a positive way.

Let me take you back to when mobiles were the same size as a brick and floppy discs could destroy the world.

I was almost 5 and my favorite things in life were Chicken nuggets, chips and of course Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Nothing has really changed).

I will never remember the first time I ever saw TMNT but I will always remember the first time I saw the movie’s VHS cover.

I was with my Dad walking in K-Mart (in Brandon Park) getting a toy when my Dad had something in his hand. It was a tape. Normally Dad would let me see but this time he refused to show me which lead to me being a brat and throwing a fit. Yeah I know I was a little $h!+.

By the time we got home, he turned around and handed me the tape.

He said this was a surprise for you bratski (his nickname for me).

I pause and nearly died when I saw the title. Now I couldn’t read well (again nothing much has changed) but I could read this. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles The Movie?

I said to my Dad this looks cool. I rushed straight to my room to play the tape only to get pulled to the lounge room cause Mum & Dad wanted to watch it as well.

An hour and a half later I was looking for a stick to pretend to be Donnie, and my Dad nearly getting a black eye when were play fighting (he was trying to be the shredder. My Dad was awesome).

For the next 10 years this was my go to movie.

I’d watch it when I was sick, when I was sad and when I was happy.

To this day I can still quote almost nearly every line in that movie.

What happen next? Well puberty.

My cinema and life choices changed.

I was starting to really like more different types super heroes, starting to really like girls and most of all,

I started to really like to watch more ah…adult content. And no I don’t mean porn you sick minded puppy.

I really liked watching drama and serious movies. The first time I saw the green mile made me want to check out more films like that. I would watch movies like Saving Private Ryan, Schindler's list, A clockwork orange, the list goes on.

I wouldn’t watch Teenage mutant ninja Turtles again till I was 19.

But this time I was going through a rough time in my life.

Not to bore you with the details but I was in a dark place.

Watching this made me laugh again and on reflection made me smile again.

I remember thinking to myself when I was a kid, I was more like Donnie.

I was calm and collective but most of all curious about the world.

But by the time I was 19 I had become more like Raph.

I was rude, a loner, I would keep putting the world on my shoulders and would refuse to ask for help (still do) but most of all I had so much anger towards the world but especially to myself.

While watching the scene where Splinter talks to Raph and he utter the line “I am here my son” it made me realized how much I missed my Dad (My Dad passed away when I was 10) and how he made me feel safe in the world.

Not to say I didn’t feel that with my Mum but me and My Dad had a different connection.

A father/son connection. A connection I would never thought I’d have again until I became a God Father and guardian. This would be the start of me seeking help and trying to understand and deal with my problems. It’s funny how a single scene or line from a movie can help you.

For the next few years I would share this movie with many of my friends hoping they would get the same sort of connection to the film like I did, but sadly that didn’t happen.

But what it did was help form stronger relationships with a lot of my friends especially with my core friendship groups. I’m very thankful for that.

Now here’s how it saved my life.

2014 was quite possibly the hardest year of my life.

Here’s a timeline of the events leading to it changing my life,

January: Working for a company that I was overlooked for a promotion and would lie to me on a regular basis. Mum had started Chemo treatment talks again (her cancer had started to grow again)

February: After months of rejections I got an interview with one of my dream jobs.

March: Started working at my dream job, but was scared I wouldn’t be able to keep it.

April: Doing really well at my new job and my old job let me go and humiliated me in front of my Mum.

May: Still doing well at my new job but start to get worried about Mum as she’s having more visits to the doctors.

June: Finished my probation of my new job and have made new friends at work.

Found out that Mum has less than a month to live.

July: Mum is taken to palliative care and I spend Mum’s remaining days by her side.

Sadly Mum passes away.

Now for those that aren’t aware, My Mum was my rock.

Losing her was the worse pain I’ve been through.

So you can imagine how I was feeling at this point.

Now not to go into too much detail I was “depressed” on the night Mum passed away.

No one was with me at home, no one was calling and no one put their hand up to stay with me during this difficult time.

At my lowest point I found my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle DVD.

I don’t know why God allowed me to find this but I took it as a sign.

It was 2.am and I popped it into the DVD player.

Within a few minutes I had started to calm down, by the time the turtles were in the big fight scene in the middle of the film I was laugh and smiling again.

Then something happened after the movie ended, I played again.

And again and again and again, Till finally I fell asleep.

When I woke up, I was alone and started to cry.

So I watched it again, and at the end I decided to go for a walk.

It was during my walk I came to the conclusion that Mum wouldn’t want me to be like this.

I got home and you guess it, I watched it again.

I should also point out that at this point I hadn’t eaten since lunch time the day before.

Not that you need to know that, But I thought it was noteworthy.

Over the next few months I started to feel better, I started to get my confidence back but most all my heart started to heal. I started to remember Mum and Mine’s dream of starting a toy collection.

Mum wanted to start collection toys ever since she watched the show Toy Hunter.

So where do I start? Well I started to watch the new TMNT series on nickelodeon and saw this

This would begin my journey as a toy collector which has grown by a lot.

I want show my collection here, I’ll save that for another time.

I started to join various TMNT related Facebook groups which would lead me to discovering podcasts in particular The Turtle Power Podcast

https://www.turtlepowerpodcast.com/ .

These guys were and still are fun, funny and made me feel welcome.

Without these guys What if it’s cool? May never have happened.

They inspired me to do something like their show, and now my buddies/bros Tim, Trip B and Producer Zigs are doing it.

And all this thanks to this movie.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is and will always be my go to movie.

I watch it at least once a month and still find things I didn’t notice before.

To all the filmmakers that were involved as well as Peter Laird & Kevin Eastman (The creators of TMNT)

I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving my life and helping me when I needed it.

God Bless you all.

[yeehawbisexualold]

That Damn Paul McCartney

This is for @colinoslayme who requested “we bumped into each other in the street and you were grinning like a cocky asshole the whole time so i stalked off only to realize i’m wearing your shirt ” This got way more emo than I intended but here it is. :)

Rated T. 3k words.

Atrocious, blasphemous, contemptible, disgraceful, erroneous. She could hit every letter of the alphabet with words that have been used to describe her. Not for the aspects of her life that usually riled a person’s feathers: having a child at the age of 17, keeping that child, going to prison, swearing off any serious form of relationship. No, the thing people find most unbelievable about her is her dislike of The Beatles.

She doesn’t hate The Beatles. If Mary Margaret were to play a song in the car, she wouldn’t throw a fit… but she would politely ask her to play something different. If a song were to come on the radio in her own car though, she wouldn’t hesitate to smash the tuner to a different station. And it’s possible that she may have once called into a radio station to complain about the abysmal taste of whoever requested that damn yellow submarine song.

“You drive a yellow bug. You lived in it for a while, didn’t you? How do you not like Yellow Submarine?” What a good question, Shelly in the prison cafeteria. Why wouldn’t she like a song that reminds her of the time she spent homeless, living in a tiny, cramped car that lacked viable air conditioning, with her deadbeat boyfriend?

She could blame her dislike of the band on the crappy foster mother who worshiped them—the same foster mother who made her listen to their music while she washed the dishes and scrubbed the toilet and folded her underwear, who told her listening to their music while doing chores would “help her build character.” She could blame it on the girl who sat next to her in 8th grade and doodled their lyrics on her notebook, the same girl that spilled grape juice down her back while she sat alone at lunch and told other students she had lice. She could blame it on the first boy she ever kissed, the boy who offered to walk her home from school, gave her an earbud to listen along to his walkman, and would only accept a kiss as thanks for his chivalrous actions—pushing her up against the wall of her foster families home and planting his entirely unwanted, sloppy mouth on her.

She could come up with a multitude of reasons for why she doesn’t like the revolutionary, music legends but what it really comes down to is that she just doesn’t like their music. It’s not her taste. She’s never heard a song of theirs and thought wow, this is great.

When Killian Jones came along with his stupidly blue eyes, stupider flirty grins, and stupidest tattoo of the lyrics to Blackbird along the top of his back, she was sure to hate him. Hell, when Mary Margaret invited her and Henry to come along on a sailing trip with him and he’d anchored the boat, pulled off his shirt, and jumped in the water, she very nearly pushed him straight back in when he came out and she noticed the black lines of script across his skin.

“I’m a bloody brit, love. Of course I like the band,” he said when she scoffed at the tattoo.

She hadn’t known about his time in the navy then, or about his brother. She hadn’t known about how they would sing Beatles songs while working on the ship together. She certainly hadn’t known about how before that, after their father abandoned them, Liam would play their music as Killian fell asleep at night because they young boy couldn’t stand the feeling of loneliness the silence left.

By the time she knew all of that, his fondness for the band was so far down on the list of Things About Killian That Annoy Her, it hardly registered.

When he asked her out, not for the first time but the first time she accepted his offer, she’d only had one condition, that he let her plan the date. She knew Paul McCartney was soon to be in town, had already purchased tickets for him and a friend of his chosing as an early birthday gift. She decided it would make for the best damn first date he’d even been on. Even if she wouldn’t be entirely thrilled.

It was good. She actually had fun, way more fun than to be expected at a concert where she doesn’t like any of the music. But Killian was so happy when he realized where she’d taken him—squeezed her in so tight of a hug he nearly broke a rib.

“The seats aren’t outstanding but they’re decent.” She shrugged after he set her down, running his hand up and down her arm, stopping to squeeze just above the bend of her elbow.

“Love, you could tell me I have to listen from the bloody restroom and I’d be ecstatic.”

He radiated sheer joy and excitement from the moment they stepped into the arena. And before long, his enthusiasm seemed to rub off on her and she could feel a grin splitting her cheeks wide enough to match his.

“Admit it. You’re having fun,” he demanded sometime around the seventh song. His eyes were so bright in the dim lighting, she was certain that, if he looked, Paul McCartney himself would be able to see them from the stage.

“I’m enjoying the atmosphere and this beer. And when you’re not pestering me, I’m enjoying your company. But I’m not enjoying the music.”

Killian shook his head at that and returned his attention to the stage.

He spent a lot of time singing the music at her. Emma tried to be annoyed but he accompanied his singing with cheesy head movements and dance moves that should have just looked ridiculous but he somehow made work. So instead of being irritated, she spent most of the time thoroughly entertained.

Things took a turn after the final chords of And I Love Her faded out and she could recognize the beginning of Blackbird. Killian shuffled backwards and pulled her in front of him, planting his arm fully across her stomach, his index finger locking itself onto the belt loop on her hip. Halfway through the song, he buried his face into the hair on her neck, his chest rising and falling heavily against her back. She pretended not to notice the slight dampness she felt there.

He pulled his face back once the song ended but he otherwise didn’t move. The position they were in should have been awkward, with the little bit of space they were afforded between rows of seats and the way her toes precariously balanced off the edge of the concrete. But it wasn’t. It was nice.

Nice became interesting when a song she didn’t recognize began.

“Do you know this one?” he asked drawing her hair to one side and then placing his palm flat against her stomach, his pinky toying with the edge of her shirt, brushing along the strip of exposed skin.

“I may have heard it before? I don’t recognize it though.”

“Something. Frank Sinatra called it the best love song ever written,” he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.

“Oh?”

He hummed affirmatively in response.

The lyrics were lovely and McCartney sure could sing them well (especially for his age) but Emma couldn’t be sure if her positive reaction was in response the song itself or the feeling of Killian’s tongue against her neck.

He started the song off with light opened mouth kisses in a line down from her ears. But the pressure of his lips soon grew more intense, leaving her wondering if she’d have to wear a turtle neck around her child the next day. His hand moved fully beneath her shirt, fingers splayed against her warm skin. By the time the three-minute song was over, her knees were weak and his breath was hot and erratic on her neck.

“Emma,” he’d nearly grunted her name.

“Yeah?”

“Can I take you home now?”

“Now? I looked up the set list before coming and I’m pretty sure there’s still a couple of songs left and then a like seven song encore,” she babbled, her eyes staring unseeing across the crowd in front of them.

“I’ve heard enough.”

“Are you sure?”

“If it’s too soon or that’s something you don’t want I understand,” he said, turning her around to face him and she nearly fell backward at the unchecked intensity in his gaze. “But if you have no objections, I’d very much like to take you home, put that song on repeat, and make you fall to pieces until you can no longer see straight.”

Something hot and promising coiled in her lower stomach and all she could do was nod at her purse on the floor, which he bent to pick up for her.

The line for the merchandise stand was nearly empty (everyone else preoccupied with the show) and Emma insisted on buying him a t shirt before they left. He settled on something simple, plain black with Paul McCartney written across the front in white lettering and the tour dates on the back. He refused to let her pay and even picked out some buttons for her.

When they finally arrived at his apartment, her entire body was vibrating with anticipation. Killian lead her up to his door with his hand on her lower back and the hair on her arms stood on end. He guided her, giddy and breathless, down the hallway to his room. And the rest went exactly as he promised.

She fell asleep, elated and sated, tracing the lines of scriptalong his back with her finger, listening to him hum contentedly.

—

After that night, she couldn’t hear that song without getting aroused—not his stated intention but surely his intention none the less.

— Their relationship was good, incredibly good. They had so much in common when it came to their pasts. (“Birds of a feather, Swan.”) And they just worked well.

Killian was wonderful at respecting her boundaries and understanding when something would be too much or too soon for her. Having known each other for so long already, he knew her discomforts and insecurities—what she could handle and what would make her run for the hills. He let her take the reigns most of the time, satisfied to let her set the pace of progression.

He was a patient and tolerant man but he also recognized when she needed help. He wouldn’t always let her hide behind her walls. Killian coerced her a little here and a little there, knocking a singular brick down at a time. Other times, he outright pushed, taking a sledgehammer to large portions. Piece by piece, chunk by chunk, they dismantled her walls until nothing remained but gravel at her feet.

She thought at least the walls were demolished. But one brick remained, a small piece, but enough to cause a large stumble.

Stumble she did.

When he came home one day (not yet his official home but he spent more time with her and Henry than at his own apartment) and, clearly in discomfort, wouldn’t settle back against the couch cushion, she wondered if he’d been hurt on his boat. He pushed aside her concern, telling her he must have simply slept on his back wrong.

“It’s a little tender. That’s all.”

She’d believed him. Her mattress wasn’t exactly a memory foam, nearly as old as Henry and unforgivingly solid. (Killian was a little particular at that point, preferring a soft mattress.) But when he’d gotten in the shower and actually locked the bathroom door, when Henry was at a friend’s of all nights, she was worried.

“Killian, I know there’s a bobby pin around here somewhere. Don’t make me find one.”

“I just need a moment, lass. Don’t go knocking down any doors.”

The final straw was him getting in bed with a t-shirt on.

“Take it off.”

“It’s a little chilly tonight.”

“It’s July and you don’t even sleep with a shirt on in the winter. Take. It. Off.”

She fucking lost it. He’d went and got a fucking tattoo. A stupid fucking black swan tattoo. A stupid fucking swan, taking flight, painted in black ink with white stars scattered about and what she was sure to be the Cygnus constellation standing out from the other stars in larger dots of ink. And he went and got it placed directly under his stupid fucking Beatles lyrics tattoo.

It was all too much, too soon.

He tried to talk her down. He tried to explain that the meaning wasn’t that serious. He’d always intended to get some sort of bird there and what’s more unique than a black swan. He’s a naval man you see, love. Constellations a part of his very blood. The Cygnus had always been one of his favorites, long before he met her. It was more of an homage to his brother and his time serving than it was to her.

He presented his case as well as he could have but she wasn’t having it. The more she focused on it the more she realized how fast they’d moved, how quickly things became serious—serious in a way she’d never experienced.

She told him as such and that she needed time and space. He questioned if she was breaking up with him and all she could give him for an answer was that she didn’t know.

That blow up happened three weeks ago. It’s been three weeks of Emma Swan resolutely ignoring Killian Jones, every aspect of their relationship and every person who wanted to discuss him.

A week ago he seemed to get the message that she wasn’t going to answer his calls or respond to his texts.

So it would be just her luck to run into him outside of their favorite coffee place.

She pushes open the coffee cup decaled, glass door, expecting to leave happily with her mocha cappuccino only to nearly spill her to go cups contents down the front of one Killian Jones.

“You good?” he asks with a tiny smile, after steadying her with his hand and making sure she doesn’t topple over.

“Yeah,” she responds a little dazed. It’s been three weeks since she’s seen him when before that she’d seen him nearly every day for over a year.

He looks good, damn good.

“You look good, Swan,” (clearly thinking the same as her) he says gently as if he’s trying not to scare her off. He gives her a slight once over and his small grin turns into a chuckle.

“What?” she demands, agitated, at him, at the circumstances, at her shitty luck, and most of all, at herself for seeing his smile and realizing she still wants him so badly it fucking hurts.

“Not a thing. You just look good,” he says, shaking his head and grinning at the ground. As she turns to leave, he stops her. “I don’t want to start a fight here. All I ask is that you give us one more shot at discussing this before writing me out of your life completely. It’d be my largest regret in life to lose you.”

She nods, feeling shell-shocked and turns to leave for real this time, ignoring his second outburst of laughter.

—

It’s not until that she strips for her shower that night that she finds the source of his humor. She’d been wearing the shirt he bought the night of the concert. She sighs heavily at the realization, in her silent bathroom.

That damn Paul McCartney.

—

It takes another week and a half for her to get herself together and call Killian. He tries to hide his excitement, giving off an air of nonchalance, but she can still hear it in his voice. She sets up a date for them to meet and talk and he ends the call with “I know you probably don’t want to hear it but I need to say this. I love you, Swan and I’ll never stop fighting for you. So be prepared for that when you come over.” She’s not prepared, never really has been when it comes to him. He starts right off the bat with the heavy hitters. Why they should be together, how well they work, how much he loves her, how much he loves Henry. He takes back nearly everything he said the night of their argument.

“I lied the other night. You and I both know that. This tattoo is essentially all for you. There are other meanings tied in but I’m not fooling anyone by saying I didn’t get it with you in mind.” He pauses, taking several, deep breaths, looking nearly pained. “I’ve had these words on my back ‘blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly’ never really believing in them, believing that I could achieve those words. Until I met you. I understood meeting you, falling in love with you is what’s healed my metaphorical broken wings. I can fly now because of you. You were my moment to arise.”

She tries fruitlessly to blink back her tears but she can’t stop them. He takes her in his arms, tucking her face into the crook of his neck and cupping the back of her head.

“Shh. I don’t expect you to respond with anything nearly as sappy. I know you’re not as good with words as me.”

“No one is,” she chuckles weakly against his skin.

“I just need to know if you’re willing to take this bird back in,” he says seriously, pulling back slightly to look in her eyes.

“Yeah, I am.”

“We’re birds of a feather, my love. We need to flock together.” He grins stupidly bright down at her and she pushes him away at the cheesy words.

—

Years later she surprises him with a tattoo of her own, one he is much more welcoming to. In small black letters, she gets the word ‘something’ on the inside of her ring finger. She’s a little bit proud of herself when he cries.

[senorplume-blog]

Reunion (a short story)

   Henry throws on his favorite shirt, a concert tee that he got at an Arlo Guthrie concert some years back. Pulling the shirt over his head, he eyes the bottle of ale that sits on the kitchen table. Reaching out with his left hand he grabs the bottle and takes a long pull from it. Friday night and not a thing going on. Luckily.     With the drink in his hand he walks over to the living room window and takes a peak at the great outdoors. Folks arriving for a CYO event at the school across the street. Looks like a basketball game as he spies on the young girls showing up in their cheerleader outfits. Some adults walking in and a young man about 20 has his head stuck into his cell phone, texting as he moves straight ahead. Henry closes the curtain tight and walks away quite glad that he is not playing a game of basketball tonight. As much as he complains about the loneliness of his life, he has adapted to it and some nights, such as tonight, he is glad for his solitude lifestyle.      The television is on but thankfully muted while the record player spins the vinyl album around at 33 and a third. A collector of sorts, he stops and stares at his records. A massive amount that must be well into the thousands. His father started him out young to the pleasures of music and he never looked back. His dad left him his old records from the 40's to the 70's when he passed away. Alphabetized, he goes down to one knee to look through the Z's. Pulling out Frank Zappa's first album he takes the record from its sleeve and stares at the grooves that the needle reads. Henry can, and will spend hours now gazing at his collection with pride bursting up through his soul. Nothing can or will make him as happy as rummaging through these records and trips to the Salvation Army for more is his true joy in life.      Stopping only to gather up a plate of nacho's and a few beers, Henry has just spent the complete Friday night alone with his records. He plans to leave the house tomorrow morning for a trip to the local hotel where a huge record sale will be going down. Once a month there is a gathering of all types of venders selling off their albums and other music related items. Henry looks forward to this with unbridled glee. He takes to the computer and after seeing there was not one email waiting for him he begins to compile a list of albums that he must have and hopefully he will be able to find them there. Some records he just never stops looking for. Years and years he has waited for somebody to sell them off. A Beatles record nicknamed the Butcher Album due to the cover showing the Fab Four dressed as butchers covered in raw meat and doll parts. A true and rare collector's item. He saw one once when he was visiting his sister in California. He had it in his hands and as he always does, he smelled the inside of the cover. There really is nothing finer than the scent of an old record Henry believed. The asking price for the album was a hefty 1000 bucks which he did not have at the time. He has saved up for the day it would appear to him again. He would not miss out on it twice.     With the need to take a piss Henry, drunk now, as he always is on the weekends, stumbles to the bathroom. Holding on for dear life he lets out a long sigh and out of the blue the telephone rings. He usually unplugs the fucking thing on the weekends but he must have forgotten.  The answering machine pick up. It is a woman's voice and it is unfamiliar. Without washing his hands, Henry walks to the bedroom to hear the voice say goodbye and then the tape rewinds. Who the fuck could that be? Henry presses play and he listens in carefully.   "I'm looking for Henry Coda. If this is the wrong number I apologize but I really want to find him. This is Anna Baez. I went to school with Henry back in the 80's and I would like to invite him to our schools 25th anniversary. It's this upcoming weekend…seven days from now and it will be a ball. So Henry, please if you could join us at the school at 7 in the gymnasium… I would be thrilled to see you again. We all would. It will be a blast. I hope this is the right number. Call me at 722-5733 to let me know if you can come. Thanks and goodbye."     Christ. Anna Baez. Henry takes a long drink from the bottle…killing it and he heads to the bookshelf to pull out his senior yearbook. The cover says Binghamton Central High School. It has been years since he has looked at this thing. He takes a seat on his bed and opens the book. He flips through the pages with a bored look on his face until he comes to the page he wants. Under his nose is a picture of Anna. A blonde beauty that was quite popular in school. Unlike Henry she excelled in school, running for class president and winning. A cheerleader and if he remembered correctly, she was crowned prom queen…a prom in which Henry did not attend. His book was signed a few times and he reads a few. "Have a great summer Henry…see you at the college." "Henry, keep playing that guitar and I am certain you'll be top of the pops in no time." "You are one weird fellow man. Don't change."    Henry never ended up going to the local community college and he never made it to the top of the charts. He was still weird and he has barely changed since the 80's. He closed the book and placed it back on the shelf. He remained on the bed thinking of school. How he hated it and most of the kids there…except for one girl…Nancy…or Nan for short. Nan, he had the biggest teenage crush on. She was always friendly with him but she was dating the same guy from their freshman year right up to the senior year. They were friends…she was kind to him and although her boyfriend hated him she didn't care. She was nice. Rising from the bed he began to think about her. Nan, I wonder if you are even still alive and if you are I bet you have fourteen kids and a beefcake husband. He wandered out of his room and made it to the kitchen to grab a fresh beer. Cracking it open he heard the needle hit the label on the record he was playing and he knew it was time to flip it over.    Playing the Stones now he could not get his mind off of that girl. Nan. Henry hardly left his house for any kind of social event. Skipping family reunions and the like. But this…this could be…interesting. He wanted to see Nan and that was the only thing that made him pick up the phone to call Anna back.     She answered right away and sounded genuinely pleased to hear from him. She told him that he was all set. That it was to be a casual party and that he could bring a friend or spouse if he wanted to. Henry asked how many people have signed up to go and she told him that it will be a packed event. "Expect at least a hundred kids to be there. It will be lots of fun. And Henry, feel free to bring some of those records of yours with you. I bet we would all like to hear them." After saying goodbye and hanging up Henry crawled into bed and found himself…drunk and daydreaming about Nan and just what he could say to her. It made him nervous just thinking about it and soon he blocked it out and fell asleep with the full bottle of beer next to his head. ——————————————————————————————–                    After about four beers Henry was ready to leave for the reunion. Dressed in khakis and a seersucker shirt he bent down to tie his shoes when he felt the urge to throw up come over him. He ran to the kitchen sink and made it just in time. Four beers down the drain, all sudsy and wiping tears from his eyes he went to swig some mouthwash around in the bathroom.       Outside now Henry tucked the cuffs of his pants into his socks and jumped onto his bicycle. The school was only a few blocks away and it was a pleasant night. He had no intention of trying to impress anyone there. His bike was fine and he enjoyed riding it more than driving anyway.      Along the way there his nerves grew worse and he checked the time on the side of the bank on the corner. 7:15. He was late and he did not care. He toyed with the idea of not showing…no one would miss him anyway but Nan…he was dying to see what became of her. He stopped his bike in front of the tavern Rocco's and parking his bike on the side of the building. He went in. "Henry! Long time no see my friend. How goes it?" Rocco extended his hand and Henry shook it with a weak smile on his face. "Get me a cold one please Rocco. Lord knows I need one tonight" "What's the big occasion? You got a hot date tonight? If you do, bring her here. I'd love to see the kind of girl you could pick up Henry."       The bartender, a black guy with muscles that would put Schwarzenegger to shame cracked the top off the bottle of Bud and handed it to Henry. He took hold of it and brought it to his mouth and drained half of it in a mere two seconds. His eyes darted around but he found himself slowly calming down. The television above the bar was on showing some soccer match and the jukebox was playing the old Turtles tune.. .'Happy Together.' "Henry, it's been a while, a few days now perhaps since you last walked into my establishment. What's been happening to you? You depressed? Did a fire destroy your record collection or something?" "No. Just been busy is all. Listen Rocco, I need your advice here. I'm now headed to my 25th reunion at school and I am rather nervous about it all. There is a girl there…or a woman now and I really want to talk to her but I am a social dud. I have no idea what to say to her. What's a good ice breaker? Something that won't make me look like a total dick head. Just a little dick head." Rocco smiled and said " Ah Henry, you seeing an old flame tonight? Some girl who used to give you hand jobs in the basement? Something like that eh?" "No…not at all. Just a girl who I was friendly with. Though I have to admit that I dreamed of her and those hands giving me some relief. I don't know. I can't think of what to say to her when I see her. I need your help here."   Rocco pulled up a stool and thought for a while. "What did you guys used to talk about in school? Back then. What did you talk about?" Henry thought for a while and he said `music.' "Ok, then you talk about that. Just say that you heard an old song on the radio and that it made you think of her. She'll be pleased to hear this…hopefully and there you go. You'll be off to the races." "But I never listen to the radio…all those commercials and that terrible hip hop music they play now a days…It gives me a head…" “Then, forget the radio part…just say you heard a song…somewhere… and it made you think of her. Just wing it from there. She'll want to know what song and then you'll be in a real conversation and I bet it will be the first one with a woman for quite some time. Am I right?" Henry sighed and took a drink from the bottle. "Yeah, music, that's kinda what I had planned on anyway." "That's all you ever talk about actually Henry. This is the first conversation we've had that wasn't about music or music related. You must really be nervous." "Yeah, I am. What time is it Rocco?" "7:30." "Shit, I gotta go. Thanks for the help. I appreciate it, man."     Rocco wished him good luck and said that if he gets lucky with the girl to bring her over to the bar so he could see what all this nervousness was all about. Henry killed his beer and slammed the bottle down on the bar with a determined thud. He stood and with a wave left the bar and found his bike waiting for him. He climbed aboard and began his trek to the school. ————————————————-      Inside the gymnasium it was sweltering. He was informed at the front desk, where old Anna Baez was sitting, that the air conditioners were on the fritz and to expect it to be a little warm in there. Warm? It was horrible. Henry went immediately to the bar and ordered a beer. A nice cold beer would really hit the spot and maybe calm his nerves a bit.    Drinking, he looked down to his name tag. Henry. Who the hell is going to remember me anyway? This is a mistake. He had a few friends in high school and they all went to universities and left him in his hometown alone and friendless. Sure, he knew some of the guys and gals at the record conventions but he wouldn't be able to really call them friends. He was a lonely guy who simply loved his records and beer. He looked up and watched all the people milling around and some dancing. A few guys whom he recognized as old jocks were standing at the bar, drinking and laughing, without a care in the world. Henry felt the sweat dripping down his back and he flapped his shirt a few times to get some air in there. His ears pricked up when he heard a Duran Duran song playing and he was just about to head over to the DJ booth to talk to the guy about his CD's when he saw Nan walk in. The light from the gym was weak at best but he knew it was her although he could not read her name tag. My goodness…there she is he thought to himself. I'll just wait for a while to let her mingle with the people that she really wanted to see and then, then he would walk up to her and reintroduce himself to her.        Henry wiped his brow with the back of his hand and struck up a conversation with the DJ. They shot the shit for a few minutes when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Nan smiling ear to ear. "Henry Coda…my God…you look exactly the same. You really do. My goodness…how are you?"       Henry's shirt was sopped with sweat as he opened his mouth to return her greeting when a group of guys walked up to Nan and began to talk excitedly to her. Henry shrunk back to the DJ booth and just stood there watching them enjoying their conversation. I wish I was normal he thought to himself. I wish I could talk and feel carefree with others. Instead I am a sweating fool all alone with social anxiety and a drinking problem. He took a swig from his plastic cup and turned around to stare at the wall.     A few minutes passed while a Van Halen song played. Henry began to recall the time he had bought the album which this song came from when he heard a woman's voice say something. He turned around to see Nan staring at him. "Hello…anyone home? I've been trying to get your attention for a minute now silly. Daydreaming about music I bet. This Van Halen song sure brings back the memories don't you think?" "I was just playing this song a few days ago actually. All in all it's a great album with very little filler. Sure, a few of the songs aren't all that great on it but not many records from that period were masterpieces. You know what I mean?" Nan smiled at him and told him that he has not changed all that much from 25 years ago. Henry smiled and tried hard to think of something to say to her. He decided to ask her about her life now but she spoke first. "So tell me Henry…tell me about your life. Are you married? Is your rock and roll wife around here somewhere?" "Wife? Ha, no…No wife. Never. Never was married. You?" "Well, remember Davey? My boyfriend in school? We married after college and 10 months later we were divorced. Still to this day I have no idea what went wrong but that band of gold on my finger just cursed us. It was something else, I'll tell you, I won't be walking down the aisle again, you can count on that." Henry looked down at her finger and even in the bad light he could see that she was not sporting a wedding ring. "Gee, I'm sorry about that Nan. Geeze…will he be here tonight? Davey?" "No, he moved to Washington State after our divorce was finalized. I haven't seen him in years now. No kids…thank God." "Oh…well that's good I guess…divorce can really be hard on kids; at least that's what I've read in magazines and all. So…you live around here?" Nan answered his questions and boy was there a lot of them. Henry at times felt like he was interviewing the poor girl but he really had nothing else to say to her so he asked questions. Query after query but she didn't seem to mind at all. They talked for a while when he realized he was in dire need of a drink. He tried to back step a bit to get closer to the bar hoping that she would follow him…slowly but two steps back into his plan she stood right there, not moving an inch. He would have to ask her if she would like a refill on her wine…or what appeared to be wine. Maybe it was punch. It was red and that was all he could tell. In a break in the conversation he asked her if she would like a refill and that he could really go for a cold beer in this stifling heat. "I know! It's so hot in here…I can't stand it. Want to go outside for a bit? I could use some fresh air and besides…and don't tell anyone but I am dying for a cigarette." "Outside? Certainly. I'd like that. I'm beginning to melt in here. Please just let me refill my beer here. Can you wait?" She nodded her head and Henry went to get a beer. Turning to Nan he asked her if she was good. She replied that another cup of wine would be great and she handed him her now empty cup. "…A nice cold Michelob and a wine please Jerry."    The bartender filled up the two glasses and they headed outside. On the way to the front doors Nan was greeted with many hellos. Henry couldn't remember her being so popular in school. It was mighty crowded and Nan grabbed his arm and pulled him along and he was happy to be lead away out of there. Outside the cool air was a Godsend. They both needed the cool night air on their hot skin. "Now this is much better, don't you think Henry? So, tell me now…back in school you loved music more than anyone I've ever known. You ever made a career of it? You in a band or anything?" He felt like he was letting her down as he went on to say that not only was he not in a band but that as a career he chose media marketing. "What exactly is that Henry?" "You know those jingles you hear on the radio? I write them. I make commercials for the radio and television." "Oh my, how interesting…anything I would know?" "You know Champs Fried Chicken? The chain of chicken places? Well that one ad..the one that goes:

`Champs…is the place to be when your down and hungry, a dollar 99 is all you got? you'll dig our chicken, you'll dig it a lot.'

I wrote that." "Holy shit Henry, I know that song! It's the catchiest tune like ever! Wow…I'm with a celebrity here!" "Ha…well…it pays the bills. It's not going to get me a gold record but I suppose I can't complain." "Well, I think it's awesome…simply awesome Henry. I'm not as famous as you but I guess my job is ok…I sell real estate in North Carolina. I'm not rich or anything but like you, I can pay the bills."     Henry found himself relaxing a bit. The cool night air did him well and he found that he could keep up his end of the conversation. He went in a few times to refill their drinks. He was feeling alright by the time of his 7th beer of the night and Nan was really knocking the wine back. They talked about many things and a few people even recognized him as they made their way out of the gym to return home.    Around the time of Nan's fifth cup of wine she realized that the party inside was dying down. "I should really go back inside and mingle a bit more. You wanna come along with me? There has to be other people you want to see besides me." "Not really, Nan…in fact the only reason why I came to this high school heat wave was to see you. You were always so nice to me…don't think I've forgotten it these many years later." "Oh Henry, that's so nice of you to say. Shoot…I should go back though. You sure you don't want to come with me? I'll buy you another drink." Henry thought about it and decided not to go in. "I'm sorry Nan but it's really too hot for me in there. I'm going to head to Rocco's for a nice air conditioned beer." "Sounds splendid. Ok…I understand. "It was nice to see you again Nan…really. Take care now." "I will. Thanks for visiting with me. I had a ball. Enjoy Rocco's" And with that they hugged each other goodbye and went their separate ways.

      Around 1AM Rocco was placing the chairs up on the tables when there was a knock at his front door. He checked the time on his wrist and went to tell them he was closed. Through the door he saw a woman standing there. "I'm sorry Ma'am but I'm closed now. I open at 9 if you still need a drink in the morning." The girl was swaying a bit but managed to steady herself. "Is Henry there? Henry Coda? I'm a friend of his." Rocco opened the door and told her that she just missed him. "He left about 10 minutes ago. You don't happen to be Nan are you?" "Yes..why?" "Oh boy was he going on and on about you. You made quite the impression on him tonight. He usually only talks about music but not tonight. It was Nan this and Nan that. Sorry you missed him." "Yeah, me too. Please tell him I stopped by ok?" "I will. Goodnight." And with that she turned away and headed back to her waiting taxi. “Thanks for waiting. Please take me to the Serling Hotel.”   The driver nodded and turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the tavern.  Nan, drunk… rummages through her purse as the taxi speeds through the early morning darkness as the car radio plays an REM song and Nan smiles to herself as she zips up her bag and quietly sings along to the tune as it plays.    

[lexieduranyoung-blog]

In Other News (no.1)

The biggest news of this week, President Trump's Inauguration! Some cheered, some whined - but what's still unclear is exactly how many people were there, in person, for the inauguration. CNN says there was five attendees. I personally am so over the media, that I really didn't watch much of the inauguration coverage. I don't have to though - I watched every coverage, possible, during the election. I've seen what I needed to. I voted for the man! I think that he will do a good job, as our POTUS. It's clear that a huge part of America doesn't agree (thank God for the voting system). That's okay, everyone has the right to their own opinion. However, nobody has the right to unlawfully damage things in "protest". That seems to be the new running trend... and yet, Mr. Trump is still the President. Strange how that works, huh? Enough of politics, I will save that for another day - when I have enough time to solely ramble and rant all about that.

We finished another week, with no meltdowns and still the regular potty usage! For that, Jude got a new Disney Cars die cast car, Nigel Gearsley! I don't know about all of the other parents out there, but I think our kids' love for certain toys becomes more of a love (or obsession) for the parents, eventually. When you find a rare die cast car and you're more excited about it than your kid is... guilty.

Our 2016 year was extremely busy and eventful, so we have been really looking forward to the nothingness that January has brought us. The laziness that has gone on in our house, the past three weekends, is incredible. Pajamas, til noon, have been our sole fashion statement. This weekend, we put a bit more pep in our step! Saturday mornings, my husband works in Little Rock, which means this is usually the morning of my weekly house cleaning. I probably would've put it off until Jude's afternoon nap, but my parents arrived at 7:30am with Krispy Kreme donuts and chocolate milk, for Jude. Needless to say, I was awake and got the house cleaned in no time! Jude likes to help me dust, so that's always a plus.

Side Note: Our son is a ginormous Mickey Mouse and Disney Cars fan. The Disney Channel just started a new animated Mickey Mouse series called "Mickey and the Roadster Racers". Let's just say, he's in heaven. We don't let him watch a whole lot of  television shows (strange, I know, as we are avid television watchers), but he loves Mickey and will sit for most any Disney movie. For all parents out there, with Mickey lovers - I recommend this new series.

Saturday, it just happened to be gorgeous outside! If we'd let him, Jude would probably live outside. I'm not always the biggest outdoor enthusiast, but when there's beautiful weather - I'm out in it. While Daddy worked, Jude and I went for a walk. No, Jude doesn't like to ride in the stroller anymore. He prefers to walk (or do most everything) himself. I'm pretty sure that most of the time, I was trying to catch up to him. He loves "the big water", so luckily we live by the lake! We got to count some ducks and he got to throw in some rocks. Usually Daddy is the one who takes him "exploring", so this was fun for me.

We most always do our grocery shopping as a family. Saturday evening, we made our bi-weekly trip to Walmart, list in hand - and extra snacks inevitability were thrown into the basket. I'm sure most of you aren't surprised, especially if you follow the "People of Walmart" Facebook page... but, cue the morons! While waiting to check out, due to long lines and our cashier needing to fill her cash drawer, an older couple got in line behind us. Jude was sitting there with his blanket, watching them closely. Of course, they ended up speaking to him, as most people do. The man says to our son, "you're the prettiest girl that I have ever seen". It's important to note that Jude has shoulder length hair and at times, rocks a "man bun". It's also important to note that not only does he have the thickest and most beautiful curly hair, but he probably is the prettiest boy you will ever see. But, a girl? No. He would be a manly girl. That and the fact that I dress him in boys' clothes still never detours people from calling him a girl. I corrected the man by saying "He is a boy". The man's eyes got huge, of course. He's holding a giant-ass box of Ninja Turtle gummies, for goodness sake. Sometimes I just want to look at people and say "we are not about that toddler trans life".

Anyway, after waiting about 15 mins for the cashier to get her drawer filled, finally it was our turn to check out. At that point, another cashier had stopped by to chat it up. Our cashier mentioned, to the other, that she thought the previous customer was about to "cuss her out", due to the wait time. The other cashier told the girl, "well it wasn't your fault" - to which my husband jokingly said "it's always you guys' fault". Now of course he was being sarcastic, as we have seen many customer meltdowns blamed on the poor cashiers (most of which, we try to step in and calm down, in favor of the cashier). I laughed, the other cashier laughed. We got it. Clearly our cashier did not. She answered with "That doesn't feel very good". I'm pretty sure my resting bitch face made an appearance, in that moment - as I'm thinking to myself "did she really just take offense to that?" She then looks at me and says "You're total is $240.83. How does that feel?" This is when I silently prayed, "Dear Lord please put your arm around my shoulder and your hand over my mouth". I just kind of looked at her and smirked, as I swiped my card. Inside my mind I was thinking two things: -"Cash me ousside, how bout dat" (if you're a meme fan - you get me) -"It feels pretty good to be able to drop $250 on groceries for my family, little cashier girl".

It just truly never shocks me, the stupid things that people say. I have a much larger bark, than bite. When it comes down to it, I remind myself that I am an adult and an above rude behavior - and pick my battles. However, I'm certainly not above thinking about what I want to do or say. Haha!

Saturday was also the Women's March in DC, with sister marches all around the world. That's a whole other topic that I could rant about, for days, falling in the political category. Don't worry, it's coming soon, to a blog near you - this one! Right now, I will say this: Not all of those marching women speak for me and for my gender. Some I am even ashamed to say were there representing my gender, as a whole. There is a group of women, though, that marched for something that I truly stand for. They marched for it at the Women's March and they will march for it again, at the March For Life on Jan. 27th - they marched to stand against abortion! The media may not have mentioned that, this past Saturday, and the media may be completely scarce when it comes time to report the March For Life. I assure you, though, you will hear a report from me!

My mother has begun a new Sunday tradition, with our family - Sunday Family Lunch. My mother is an amazing cook, so no convincing was needed, to join in! Plus, the company is pretty fun too. Last week, it was a taco pie. This week, we had chicken and dumplings. Both meals were accompanied by amazing homemade desserts. I'm not sure how long it had been since I had chicken and dumplings, but they were delish. My son is not a very picky eater, so he of course devoured them and then ran off to play batman.

We are slowly working on re-decorating our home and remodeling a few things, so I'll be sharing bits and pieces of that, soon, as well. All in all, it was a pretty nice weekend! They always end too quickly, but weekends are what I look forward to most. They give you something to work towards, during the week. Rain or shine, we always seem to find something to do - in between our spouts of couch lounging, of course!