#a full 15 passenger van of kids

[decentmonster]

This reminds me that I had a friend whos parents fostered. Most kids they fostered they ended up adopting, they have like ELEVEN or TWELVE kids by now and only 4 of them were biological. (I think the mom still is fostering to adopt even though her oldest is like in his 30s, so I've stopped keeping track). They were super cool, they adopted multiple kids with downs syndrome and autism and were some of the strongest disability advocates I've ever met (and not in the gross autism speaks parents kind of way). They would go to Disney multiple times a year because was one of the more accessible vacations for that large of a family, plus it was in reasonable driving distance.

I used to think they were super rich and was super jealous growing up but now that im older i learned it was actually because it was hella discounted & they were just really good at finding discounts/yearly pass deals and stuff. I don't even think they got hotels, they would stay with a grandparent who lived in the area.

Based on this post

I decided to be kind and add an answer between once or twice and annually.

Bonus question, how many of you as kids started to figure out the wealthy kids based on all your classmates who went to Disney every year and you never went once? I think I figured it out by 8.

[skarsjoy]

15 years ago today - (09.09.09)

Swedish actor Alexander Skarsgård plays the powerful vampire Eric on HBO's series True Blood. His Guest DJ set was emotional and revealing as he chose to dedicate each of his five songs to people that play an important part in his life -- including his father, actor Stellan Skarsgard, a lost love and an old friend. True Blood's Season 2 finale airs September 13.

For More: True Blood, Season 2

Tracks Rolling Stones: Mothers Little Helper Ebba Grön: 800 °C The Buzzcocks: Ever Fallen in Love Van Morrison: Brown Eyed Girl Iggy Pop: The Passenger

Transcript:

Anne Litt: Hi, I am Anne Litt and I am here with the actor Alexander Skarsgard who stars in the popular vampire drama series True Blood on HBO. He plays the powerful vampire Eric. Today, we will be playing excerpts of songs he has selected that have inspired him over the years as part of KCRW'S Guest DJ Project.

Alex, what did you bring us today?

Alexander Skarsgard: I brought 5 songs that I'd want to dedicate to people – five people that play or have played an important part in my life.

AL: What a great idea. Let's start with Rolling Stones "Mother's Little Helper"

AS: I spent a week at my Dad's country house in southern Sweden. His grandfather built that house 9 years ago and my dad, it's very important to him to maintain it like the way it was built, to preserve it and not to modernize it too much. So, there is no running water there. If you want to take a shower you have to go out to the well and pump up water and pour it over yourself. When I was a kid, me and my Dad would go out and pump up water, pour it over each other and sing this song. So I want to dedicate this song to my old man and I want to thank him for not building a jacuzzi out there or an infinity pool or anything like that.

Song: Rolling Stones" Mother's Little Helper

AS: At the time , I didn't know a word of English but it didn't stop me from shouting, ‘ra pa doo pa da da dee…' I just made up jibberish but it was just a beautiful thing to share with my Dad singing that song. I couldn't care less what we were saying."

AL: That was the Rolling Stones, "Mother's Little Helper." I am here with Alex Skarsgard on KCRW's Guest DJ Project. What's the next dedication?

AS: When I was a teenager I was a punk rocker. This was in the early 90's and it was like 15 years after it was cool to be a punk rocker. Everyday after school I would bring my boombox out to this park and I would sit there with my friends singing and watch the sunset and listen to loud, angry, fast music. One of my best friends from back then, he's sick. He's been in and out of the hospital for a couple of years now. This is like an old Swedish punk song from the late 70's that I would like to dedicate to him. I hope he gets better soon so we can get a chance to drink cheap beer and bitch about the decay of our civilization. This is Ebba Grön (dedicates it to his friend in Swedish)

Song: Ebba Grön's 800 °C

AS: I was kind of a half ass punk rocker. I didn't go full punk. Ebba Grön started the Swedish punk wave in the mid-70's so this was 15 years after that but we loved this band and listened to them all the time.

AL: Are they still around?

AS: They're not but they are still very, very famous in Sweden. I still love them and think they are an amazing band.

AL: I am Anne Litt from KCRW and we are here with Alex Skarsgard. This is KCRW's Guest DJ Project and the next song I want to talk about is the Buzzcocks' "Ever Fallen in Love."

AS: Yeah, I had this girlfriend awhile ago, many years ago, and it was a very passionate relationship. I was very much in love with this girl, but after a few months we both realized we weren't good for each other. But it was one of those relationships that we didn't make each other happy, but every time we broke up, we ended up back together and that went on for almost 3 years. I don't know if you've experienced that, but it just killed me. It was really, really tough. I just tried to move on and so did she but we just couldn't. I want to dedicate this song to her and I hope she found happiness somewhere out there.

Song: Buzzcocks' "Ever Fallen in Love"

AS: Every time after a fight I would just put on my big headphones and I would crank up the volume and go Pete Shelley freakin' gets it. In a way she will always be a part of me, but I don't have to listen to Buzzcocks and cry every day and night any more. I can actually listen to it now and enjoy it because it's a great song.

AL: It's the Buzzcocks," Ever Fallen in love". We're here with Alex Skarsgard from the HBO series, True Blood, on KCRW's Guest DJ Project. What's the next song you have for us?

AS: When I was a kid we went on a lot of road trips and my mom had this song that she always wanted to play. She is a very considerate person, my mom, so she would always ask the kids and my Dad if it was okay if she played the song. Like I mentioned before, I was a punk rocker so I would just shrug my shoulders and be like ‘oh whatever, I don't care.' So I want to dedicate this song -- my mom's favorite song --to her and I want her to know that even though I would never admit it at the time, I actually loved it every time she put it on.

Song: Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl"

AL: Do you ever feel homesick?

AS: Yeah.

AL: Is there a piece of music that you hear that just takes you there?

AS: It's kind of tough because I am the only one in my family here in LA. The rest of my family lives in Sweden so music is great for that. I just put on a song and it brings me right back home.

AL: That was Van Morrison's Brown Eyed Girl. This is the KCRW'S Guest DJ Project. I'm Anne Litt with Alex Skarsgard who has brought in a whole bunch of great songs and the next one is "The Passenger" by Iggy Pop. Tell us about that one.

AS: I've been in LA for five years now, on and off. Growing up in Stockholm, Sweden that transition, it's not easy because Stockholm is a very densely populated place, you walk or you ride your bike. Most of my friends are within just a few blocks away from each other and coming out here was kind of tricky. Suddenly you're in a city where it's considered normal to sit in traffic for 45 minutes for coffee with a friend or people drive Hummers to the gym so I've kind of spent five years complaining about LA and talking about how much greater Stockholm is, how good it is back there. I was just there for two weeks and when I landed I flew into LAX and I had this really weird feeling when we touched ground. I felt like I was coming home. I've never felt that before so this last song I actually want to dedicate to Los Angeles and I hate to admit it but I think I'm falling in love.

Song: "The Passenger," by Iggy Pop

AL: Nobody is going to let you get out of here today without telling us what music Eric listens to.

AS: He listens to a lot of Swedish death metal.

AL: Is it hard to talk with those things in your mouth?

AS: The fangs?

AL: Yeah

AS: Yeah, you know, it takes a while to get used to it.

AL: Are they like those things you used to get on Halloween?

AS: Well, they're not plastic they're like molded for your teeth but it's basically the same thing.

AL: Alex, thanks so much for joining us on KCRW.com, you've shared such a meaningful group of songs

AS: Thank you so much for having me, it was a true pleasure

AL: For a complete track listing and to find these songs online, go to KCRW.com/GuestDJProject

photo by Chris Maluszynski (photo shoot for DN Söndag, August 2009) taken in Shreveport, LA, while filming Straw Dogs

[lillian-nator]

please do more backyard au hcs this sounds lovely

PEOPLE AND AGES - Tommy (5) Kindergarten - Techno (11) 6th grade - wilbur (18) Senior - Tubbo (4) Kindergarten - Schlatt (19) Just Graduated, goes to Community college - SapNap (7) First grade - Punz (13) 7th grade - Dream (12) 8th grade - Gogy (15) Sophomore - Ranboo (6) Kindergarten - Fundy (15) Freshman - Niki (16) junior - Puffy (17) Senior - Purpled (5) Kindergarten - Big Q (14) 8th grade - Karl (13) 7th grade ----------------------- SPECIES AND RELATIONSHIPS (put into friend groups) - Tubbo (Ram, Schlatt's son) - Tommy (Racoon) - Ranboo (enderman, kind of a street kid) - Purpled (Purple Sheep, Dream and Puffy's younger brother) - SapNap (Demon, Bad's son, Punz's baby brother)

- Techno (Piglin) - Dream (Ram, Puffy's younger brother) - Punz (demon) - Gogy  (Mooshroom) - Big Q (Duck) - Karl (Parrot hybrid)

- Wilbur (Blue Jay) - Schlatt (Ram) - Puffy (sheep - Schlatt's cousin) - Niki (fish? mermaid?) - Fundy (Fox) ----------------------- I think that Philza minecraft just slowly keeps finding kids in his backyard, and he slowly grows very attached to all of them Just like every afternoon his backyard is FLOODED with kids And he doesn’t understand why he’s the house everyone goes to, but he’ll feed them He just slowly finds himself being really endeared by each of them ------------------- And before he knows it, Phil’s warning SapNap and Ranboo away from the water, and balancing Purpled and Tommy on his hips And he knows all their allergies And all their favorite foods And he’s keeping track of the high schoolers grades, bringing Dream, punz, and techno to their games  ----------------- CARPOOL SOCCER MOM Mr. Philza Minecraft --------------------- Dream: Basketball Punz: Football Techno: Baseball Puffy: Softball Small children: Baby Soccer -------------------------- - Phil keeps track of all of boys'  games and practices. Because goddamn it, these kids deserve some sort of parental guidance - Dream, purpled, and Puffy don’t have present parents - Puffy had to step up to the plate - Ranboo’s a street kid - No one really knows if he has anyone - Bad just chilling in hell ---------------------------- Schlatt is really working himself thin, but he tries hard, he really does And everyone can see how much he loves Tubbo Sometimes Phil will wake up and see schlatt passed out on their couch. He got off at midnight But as soon as he gets home from work, Tubbo is immediately in his Dad’s arms Schlatt animatedly talking to the boy But you can just see how much love he has for his boy He’s just a bit too young to bare the burden alone ------------------------------ And the thing is, is that all of these kids are so like, independent Like Phil just needs to feed them And tend to the youngest ones every so often ------------------------------- I think it’s like musical chairs To see who’s sleeping at Phil’s house in the morning Like - who’s on the couch? An air mattress? Guest bed? Sharing a room with one of his kids? All of the small children like to pile around SapNap, who is also a small child, cause he’s warm Punz also always has children flocking him ------------------------------- Punz is also that teen who throws the kids in the pool he cant go into the water himself, prefering to lay on the grass and in the sun, but he does love just chucking kids in ------------------------------- Phil drives a beat up mini van. It’s baby blue It's always filled to the brim with passengers very dirty many crumbs has balls just thrown in it all the time Footballs, basketballs, baseballs, soccer balls it fucking smells, we all know it does Phil owns like 4 of those kid car seats despite only having one kid in that age group ---------------------------- Also if you couldn't tell Niki basically lives in the pool she's a fish hybrid so its a salt water pool instead of chlorine because its better for Niki --------------------------- Tommy, Tubbo, purpled, Ranboo, and SapNap play baby soccer its the best part of this au It’s so adorable, and Tommy picks at flowers the entire time Sometimes. Ranboo will come and entertain him for a little. Try and get him back in the game. He gives up when Tommy sits down tho Ranboo will more often then not join Tommy cause mmmm grass Tubbo is insanely competitive as a little kid we been knew though When he gets older Tommy gets really into it But as a baby He just chases bugs Plus he’s a raccoon hybrid, so shiny ------------------------ HE HOARDS SHIT UNDER HIS BED IS A MESS he as in fucking baby racoon Tommy whats the word for baby racoon small baby kit Phil 1000% calls him kit BABY RAMS ARE CALLED BUCKS FUCKING EVERYONE CALLS TUBBO "BUCK" THATS SO CUTE IM LOSING MY SHIT Things go lost? Go check tommys room Bermuda Triangle of a bedroom Very much like - Phil has to have a talk with him about it And he’s like “ I know you feel like you have to take them Kit, but they’re not yours” “If you want it, just ask me and I’m

sure we can figure something out.” Tommy also loses interest as soon as he gains it tho Tommy chitters at them They nod liek they understand and go “Uh huh, sounds mighty interesting Kit,” And then they pick him and let him climb around them -------------------------------- So much rough housing like SO much they're hybrids man Tommy also teethes ok. Chews on shit when his canines grow in so does Techno, and SapNap, and Punz (Punz and Techno's canines already grew in though, but they still chew on shit) The rams Rub their heads against stuff Head Itchy ------------------------------- A lot of Phil’s days off are just spent by the babies, just who are growing in hybrid traits He scratches Tubbo, sapnaps, and Puroled heads They’re all growing in horns Gives Tommy things to chew on Purpled. Never gets full horns. They are always little stubs just barely sticking out of his hair. His ears looks more human than ram too. Just for some reason never really grew into his hybrid traits And purple eyes He gets so upset about it too, when Tubbos horns outgrow his, because he’s older He’s a bit different. But it’s like being brunette in a family of blondes. It’s not unheard of He just is tearing up and Phil is just like “oh Bud, come ‘ere” They're like 8 And Tommy just gives Purpled the biggest hug, because Tommy is a sweetheart as a kid ------------------- I think that even the older kids wrestle Like obviously Dream, Techno and the rest of the middle school gang do Because they’re so fucking competitive Dream is so quick to just. Grab someone and wrestle them to the floor No warning But like, you’ll catch Wilbur and Schlatt jumping at each other Or Wilbur throwing Fundy over his shoulder Or anyone just man handling gogy ------------------- Phil gets to a point where he calls them all his kids And asks where they are when they aren’t At his house ------------------------ Puffy bringing them (Dream and Purpled) over after school. They go outside and play. Puffy sighs and collapses at the dining table. Phil silently hands her a coffee. “I’ll keep em busy” he says “you get some homework done” She looks up, and puts her head in her hand, “Dream has basketball practice in an hour” Phil just pats  her on the back. “I got it.” ----------------- Also let’s talk about how much food Phil needs to buy Like even if it’s just lunch That’s like 15 growing boys He can afford it, He just has to watch out for allergies He buys so many fucking snacks man Whole damn store He goes through like crates of those little chip variety packs Tubbo only likes the crunchy Cheetos Tommy likes barbecue Niki likes salt and vinegar Punz likes Doritos He knows which ones they all like I’m just imagining Phil calling out for the kids And they’re like lining out of the kitchen Oldest to youngest so that Phil can help the little ones They can eat anywhere in the yard, but Ohil has the little ones eat at the picnic table They’re all dripping wet from coming out of the pool, and he needs to make sure they eat their fruit and popsicles, they have tons of popsicles. ------------------ Phil totally takes Dad tax Like a chip from every plate And a tatertot from each breakfast very dad of him to do ------------------- Not not Phil kissing each of their foreheads goodbye And “drive safe” And “have a good day" ------------------ He’ll still pick up Texhno And Dream and Punz, right by the armpits And tucks them into bed ----------------- Tommy when he gets wet He loves swimming but the poor baby: his fur It’s hard to get him in the water but once he’s in it’s hard to get him out Because he feels all heavy and sticky afterwards ------------------ Adventures in the woods TOMMY IN HID NATURAL HABITAT Small boy makes hidey hole You may be asking Does. Does Tommy crunch on the leaves He does Like on ever y single one Carefully -------------------- All of the little kids And even technos group Just bonk heads Because of the goats They all just do it Sometimes softly Sometimes roughly Techno always does it roughly tho Rough houser Dream doesn’t mind Makes it feel like he has a

herd Feeds a primal instinct for ram playmates Feeds a primal instinct for ram playmates - Small boy And puffy has outgrown it But a young piglin brute? Perfect playmate. ------------------------- AND THATS THE AU YOU'RE WELCOME

[lottiebagleywritesobx]

Love Language

At the time they'd made it the language had felt like no one would ever be able to understand it.

They were only 9 and JJ had been granted permission to stay at her house, her parents used to be around a lot, although they weren't anymore, and they'd always welcomed her blonde best friend leading to his near constant presence at their home.

It was late for two kids, maybe 10 pm, and they'd been wrapped in blankets in her box sized room that felt so much bigger when they were young.

They always got each other in a way no one else understood for reasons way more complex than a secret language they would use to write each other messages, but at 9, all they needed to know was that the language was another thing that tied them together.

It was simple: to spell a word you combine the first letters of the other words.

So to write Hello  you would write Hungry Elephants Love Lollipops Okay

It had stuck a lot at first, they used it everyday and it drove Pope and John B insane, but as they got older it died out.

It was used a few times at 12 when they had an annoying teacher who made students read notes out if they were caught passing them, to everyone else it sounded like gibberish.

It was used once at 15, the world help spelled out when an older Kook boy wouldn't leave her alone and she knew he was reading her phone screen over her shoulder, not wanting to trigger him.

Now, at 17, she had laughed out loud when she'd unfolded the note tucked into her locker.

In JJ's scrawl that only she could read with ease.

 Ukraine

Rollercoaster

Penguin Ranch Eyelash Tractor Tangerine Yoghurt

You are pretty. She blushed a little, looking around for any sign of the familiar blonde boy but he was nowhere to be seen, she tucked the note into her bag, hating the way he made her heart race, before shoving the books she didn't need over the weekend into her locker and walking down the corridor and out of the front doors.

When she arrived at the twinkie her friends were already there "Took your time," John B smirks from his open window, occupying the front seat

"She was probably busy flirting with Mack," Sarah teases from the passenger side

"For the last time Sarah, he just needed tutoring in bio,"

"You are shit at bio," Sarah smirks even wider

"Better than you sweetheart," The girl grins, climbing into the back and diving out of Sarah's reach as she moves to try and flick her. Both girls laughing loudly

"I'll get the door then," Pope chides

"Thanks P, i can't get too close  or Sarah will attack me," She grins, Pope rolls his eyes but sends her a grin as he leans forwards to pull the door to the twinkie closed.

She moves through the seats to her usual space, she always sat next to JJ, no matter what. They could be drinking at the chateau, relaxing at the beach, adventuring on the boat. No matter what they were next to each other. It wasn't uncommon when one of them was feeling tired, or clingy, or touch starved for her to end up in his lap, his arms wrapped around her stomach and his chin on her shoulder.

She leans up pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, it wasn't uncommon in their friendship, often used as a greeting, a thanks or even just out of the blue, and so the other's don't think anything of it even though JJ feels himself melting into a puddle. What is a little different though is the way she grabs his hand giving it a tight squeeze before pulling her own away and settling down in her seat as John B starts up the van. He knows what it is. It's a silent thanks for the note, not wanting to say anything in front of their friends but it was a sign she got it and she was grateful for it.

He wraps his arm around her shoulder, his touch gentle but Pope gives him a knowing look, the touch is supposed to claim her. She either doesn't notice or  doesn't seem to mind though, instead leaning into his now open side as she chats happily with Kie.

**

It's monday morning and JJ is in first period history. He fucking hates history, yet, it had become his favourite subject simply because it was the only one all 6 pogues shared. He opens his school bag with sigh, placing the textbook on his desk and starting to fish around the bottom of the bag for a loose pen.

Pope turns around from the seat in front of him, placing a pen on his desk with a knowing smile. JJ drops his bag to the floor, opening the text book only for a note to fall out.

Her neat writing fills the page and the smile on his face is immediate.

Umbrella

Rocket

Happy Ant Neck Drop Surf Olive Mars Egg

JJ tries to ignore the feeling of a red hot blush creeping up his neck as he turns to look at the next desk along, she's already looking at him with a smirk shooting him a week before turning to face the front, god if JJ can't feel himself falling.

**

It continues for weeks.

Tucked into the wind screen wiper of her old shitty truck.

Taped to the sandwiches she would bring him to lunch.

On her pillow when she went to bed one night.

Stuffed into the pocket of the hoodie she borrowed.

Her school bag.

The bathroom mirror at the chateau.

They both started to home a large collection of notes. Her's placed neatly in a drawer in her bedroom. His tucked in a box under the floor board that lifts up in the room he claims as his at the chateau.

**

"What you writing?" John B questions as he steps onto the porch

"Just a note for y/n,"

"You guys have been passing a lot of secret notes recently," John B comments, JJ shrugs placing the pen down "It's sweet,"

"What d'ya mean by that?" JJ questions, John raises his eyebrows giving JJ a knowing look before having a realisation.

"You still haven't told her you're head over heels in love with her?"

"No," JJ admits, he was way past his days of fighting back when his friends accused him of being in love with her. "I don't know how to. You know me, I never say things right and I just- I really don't want to fuck this up. Only got one shot at it,"

"So write it," John B shrugs like it's obvious

"I can't,"

"You can,"

"What if she doesn't feel the same?"

"JJ, you're the most annoying person I know and she puts up with you all the time and has done since you were 2 . She feels the same,"

**

She's only wearing a bikini and a tshirt that belongs to JJ when she exits her house on Saturday morning. Her plans to meet at the Chateau go surfing with Kie already made, she grabs her board and at first she doesn't even notice it, attached to the cool box full of water and fruit she'd loaded up the night before is a note.

Ice

Art Magic

Igloo Note

London Orange Venus Elephant

Wine Ill Tiger Hungry

Yam One Under

It takes less than a minute for her to decipher the note, abandoning her surf board and the cooler in favour of sprinting to the Cheateau.

JJ is seemingly waiting for her when she arrives, he's pacing in front of the house, going still the second he sees her.

"Are you kidding?" She questions, he's stares, eyes wide not quite able to process why she looks so hopeful. "Because JJ, if this is some fucked up joke I will literally never speak to you again,"

"It's not a joke," He assures

"It's not?" She questions, it's het turn to still, having expected to arrive for him to laugh and ruffle her hair like he was her brother.

"No. I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you since we were 12 and you stole my cap and started wearing it everyday,"

"We were 14 and you snuck into my room because my parents were fighting and you read harry potter to me cause you knew my parents used to," She states

He nods, now it was all out there in the open neither of them quite knew what to do.

"For fucks sake kiss already!" Pope shouts, they turn seeing all the pogues watching them from the porch.

JJ looks at her, an unspoken question in his eyes. "Just promise me if this all goes tits up we will be friends, cause I can't loose you maybank,"

He holds his pinky out, smiling as she loops her with his and squeezes slightly. He pulls her into his chest with their pinkies. Lips crashing onto hers, spare holding her closer to him by the small of her back. Her empty hand moving to play with the blonde curls she's wanted to run her fingers through a thousand times. Their pinkies stay linked by their side, his thumb stroking at her hands lightly.

Yeah, she'd be keeping the note he left in there little love language.

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Ch. 15

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter Summary: Your attempt to help your brother move result in Yoongi meeting your family -_- 

Previous Chapter here 

TW: as previously mentioned, YN and her brother were abused by their dad. It is mentioned by her brother. Trigger will be labeled before and after by **  ** Yoongi’ song “The Last” is also referenced at the very end, which implies thoughts about self-harm/suicide attempt. But it’s a good, long chapter! There is fluff and humor in it too!

---------------------------

Late last night you received an email from your brother’s school informing you a dorm space had opened up and he could move in as soon as possible. You wanted to check and make sure there wasn’t anything else you should be doing today before you rented a van.  

You put on your robe and headed out to the main living area. Half the coffee pot was already gone and you heard light movements from upstairs. You wondered if Yoongi was prone to hangovers or not.  You poured yourself a cup of coffee and heard Yoongi pad down the stairs. 

“How are you feeling today?” You asked without looking up from your steaming mug.

“A little dehydrated but fine.” He passed you as he headed over to the sink for water. “Really? We’re just wearing robes around the house now?” 

You waited, slowly savoring the taste of the hot bean water in your mouth. You swallowed. “You were in your underwear the other day. I think the robe is fine.” You turned dramatically and looked at him.  “Unless you prefer just underwear?” 

“Aish, don't remind me.” He waved in your direction as though he could dissipate the memory with his hand. It was too early for flirting.

You laughed. “Hey, if it's OK, I'd like to go help my brother move today. A dorm space opened up for him and I'd like to get him settled in before school starts again tomorrow.”

Yoongi leaned against the counter, “Yeah, that's fine. You should do that.” 

“Great,  thanks!” You turned and went back to the bedroom to get dressed. 

When you returned to the main area Yoongi was gone, you didn’t bother checking by the door as you grabbed your purse and slipped on some shoes. You texted your brother to remind him what time you would arrive and then hopped on the train to the car rental place.

Fifteen minutes later you walked in, produced your driver’s license and payment and were then declined. 

“What do you mean? I already prepaid online.” You asked the attendant. 

“It’s not the payment, it’s your license. You rented the cargo van. You don’t have a license to drive that vehicle, it’s level one.” The man explained, gesturing to a garage full of vehicles as though that explained anything.

“Isn’t it just like a regular van but big?”

“No ma’am it’s more like a box truck. I can get you a regular van but I can’t refund your rental of the cargo van because it was a day-of rental.”

“I had to enter my license to rent the van. Why does it authorize licenses if they aren’t the correct type?” You asked, annoyed. It wasn’t his fault, probably, but that definitely seemed like a crappy thing for the website to allow.

“I understand that ma’am but the website will allow anybody to pay for the van and the driver’s license check is very basic and checks to see if you have one, not the level. Now, would you like to rent a regular van?”

You stood there for a minute weighing your options. “Give me a minute.” You walked over to the waiting area and took out your phone. You opened the BigHit employee portal and scrolled through the services. There were so many options: food delivery, laundry pick up, chauffeur, pet walking, but nothing about hiring a driver for other vehicles. You groaned and dialed Yoongi’s number. Normally you would text but you felt like there was too much to say. The phone rang a few times.

“Hello?” It was surprising to you how deep his voice sounded on the phone.

“Hey...I'm sorry to bother you. Does anybody at the company have a Level 1 driver's license that I can like request via the app? I didn't realize the one I rented is for a license I don't have.” You paused. “This is so embarrassing.” Silence extended from the other side, making you feel awful, like you had probably interrupted something important.  You began again, " I can maybe just do it next weekend. I can find somebody by then I'm sure. It’s fine. What’s one more week.”

"I can drive it." 

You felt awkward having Yoongi do it."Noooo. Don't worry about it. I can do it next week. I’m sure I can find somebody.” 

“Aish send me the address. I'll do it.” He replied, starting to sound irritated.

“Were you busy? You don't have to.”

“You know the company phones have GPS trackers in them? But it will be a hell of a lot faster if you just send me the address.”

You sighed, “Ok. Thank you.”

“See you soon.”  

You awkwardly waited at the rental agency, kicking your feet in your chair like a little kid waiting for their parents. After about half an hour you heard the door ding and saw Yoongi walk in. He had traded his sweats for jeans, but otherwise had the same casual shirt and expression. 

“Hello sir,” the desk attendant greeted Yoongi. “How may I help you today?”

“I’ve been told I’m here to drive a van.” Yoongi looked your way.

"Oh, are you here for that one?" the guy at the counter gestured at you.

Rude. 

Yoongi smirked, “Yep. That one’s mine.”

Your jaw almost dropped. Fucking brat. You walked over. "It's a good thing you're being so helpful darling." You gritted between your teeth. You watched as Yoongi handed over his license and had it scanned without any issues. 

“Here you go Mr. Min.” The attendant handed him the keys. You heard him laugh as he took them.  He started to walk out to the rental garage with you following. 

"’Thanks for coming. I do appreciate it."

"It’s no problem. I mean. You, once again, will owe me dinner. But other than that. It's nothing." He clicked the remote to find the right van. "Why are you renting such a big ass van?" 

"Because my family doesn't own a car and I'm an idiot. The website didn't make it look that big. I put in my license and it let me rent it. Don’t you think it should deny it if it knows you can’t drive it?"  The two of you stopped in front of the cargo van. It was big. But not that big, you scowled.

"Oh man. I used to drive so much music equipment around in my shit van. This brings back memories." He climbed into the driver's seat. You walked around to the passenger side and stepped up as well. "And lucky for you, I came prepared today." He popped in a CD he'd been stowing in his coat pocket. 

"Oh my God. You are the cutest." You said, somewhat accidentally, out loud. 

Yoongi paused, and looked over at you. "I am not cute." 

You smiled and pinched your fingers together. "A little bit." 

He shook his head and put his hand on the gear shift. "Nope. Cue up the GPS." 

"The tiniest cute." You typed in the address. 

"Feared rapper and music producer. Ice King. Loner. It's in the lyrics, you should listen." He turned the car audio on.

"OK cutie, I know you have stuffed animals in the loft area." 

He held a finger up to his lips. "Quiet woman, I'm driving." 

You laughed and relaxed into the seat. "I fell asleep on track 5."

He pushed some buttons and you settled in for the car ride. 

Yoongi was thankful for the excuse of looking at the road so he couldn’t see your expressions as you listened. He put so much of himself in his lyrics, it was like taking his heart and mind out of his body and showing it to other people. Which for some reason felt fine when it was complete strangers, but felt so weird with someone he knew. He tried to play it cool. He knew he was two songs away from his most personal track.

“Ok, turn in here. We can park here for up to two hours without a permit.” You guided him near an alleyway next to your Aunt’s apartment. You sent a text telling them you were here. “Thanks. You can wait here if you want. I don't know how much packing there is left to do. Sorry. I just got the email this morning. There are also some coffee shops around here or some restaurants. I’m not sure what---” 

Yoongi unbuckled his seatbelt and cut you off. “Hey. You don't have to do this by yourself. OK?” He opened the door and got out before you could respond.

You took a few deep breaths and exited the van, walking around to the front to lead the way to the apartment. “Ok thanks. Also I apologize in advance for my Aunt.”

“She won’t be the first Auntie I've met,” Yoongi smirked. “Don't worry, Aunties and Grannies love me.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about. Also sorry in advance for my brother. He seems rude, but it’s just because our family life was so fucked up. He’s a good kid.”

“Hey, I can relate,” Yoongi opened the door for you. “It’s fine. Really.” 

“Ack, I don’t think I can do this.” You turned and faced him.

“Do what?” Yoongi asked, perplexed.

“Have you meet my family. It’s. We’re all weirdos. The apartment is so small. It’s embarrassing. I already feel bad that you came and helped me.” You spew out everything at once, your anxiety levels suddenly spiking.

Yoongi sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “Hey. It’s fine. I was going to meet them eventually anyways right? Might as well be before the wedding,” He teased you.

You were surprised. This was the first time he had mentioned anything about the other part of your contract. It had always been you teasing him about it.

“I guess so.” You took a deep breath. “Ok. Just...please...Remember. We’ve been through a lot.” You suddenly felt so vulnerable as you pushed the elevator button. You led the way to your old apartment and unlocked the door.

“Aunt Vi, I’m here.” You yelled from the foyer as the two of you slipped your shoes off.

“Oh finally, I was getting worried, you’re over an hour late and you're usually so prompt and hello young man.” Aunt Vi stopped dead in her tracks as she arrived in front of the two of you.

“Hello. Min Yoongi, nice to meet you.” He bowed.

Your Aunt gaped like a fish for a moment and eyed you. “Yes of course, I’m Vi.. And this is…?”

“My boss, Auntie. He drove the van today. Apparently giant ass vans need a special license.” You smiled sheepishly.

“Do not use such language in front of your boss, young lady.” She scolded. 

Yoongi cleared his throat to hide a laugh. It was unusual seeing someone boss you around for a change. 

“Yes of course, sorry Auntie. I’m very sorry, Mr. Min.” 

“That’s better. Now come in. You, help Jihoon pack, Mr. Min come join me for tea.”

She turned around and you gave Yoongi a stank look while he silently laughed at you. You flipped him the middle finger while he acted offended.

Auntie Vi turned around, “That is of course if he wants some.”

The two of you pretended to be perfect angels once again, “That would be lovely Aunt Vi.” He responded, sounding like a boy scout. You rolled your eyes at him the minute your aunt turned her back. You left the two of them as they headed to the kitchen and you went to the living room.

Your brother was packing up some books into one of the boxes when you walked over.

“Hey. Make sure the books go into a few small boxes instead of one big one, or they’ll be too heavy to carry.” You said as you grabbed another empty box and started to pack some things.

“Yeah ,ok. Those other two boxes are books as well. There should be a bookcase in the dorm. I think all my friend’s rooms have one.”

“Ok great, I’ll label them.” You walked into the kitchen to grab a sharpie and briefly overheard Vi and Yoongi. Yep. She was in love, you smirked and headed back to help your brother.

You were surprised when you walked past the hallway and saw two blankets on the floor, slowly moving. You smiled and paused, “Huh. What strange moving blankets.” You heard a set of giggles and continued on your way.

Your brother and you continued to put items into boxes and the blankets continued to slowly wriggle down the hallway until they made it to the corner. Your sister and niece sat up and pressed their tiny bodies against the wall, straining to see who the mysterious voice belonged to. You looked over and smiled. 

Aunt Vi paused for a second and heard the faint sound of giggles and “shhhh”

“There better not be any little girls eavesdropping,” She said. Everyone in the apartment heard the sounds of stomping and running down the hallway, followed by a door shutting. Vi sighed and Yoongi laughed. 

You set down the roll of tape and walked back to the bedroom. "Come on out girls." You led the way for them down the hallway. They nervously stood in the kitchen in front of Yoongi and your Aunt.

“Mr. Min, this is my sister, Hayoon, and my niece, Sooah.” You introduced them as they bowed deeply, as though they had been preparing for this moment for their whole lives.

Yoongi smiled warmly at them, “It’s a pleasure to meet you ladies.” You could see your niece already blushing. These girls were boy crazy already and you were sure they would relive this moment over and over again. They managed to squeak out a “you too.” Before they looked around awkwardly about what to do next.

“Alright girls, either help move boxes or git.” You prompted them. They looked at each other and then scrambled back to the bedroom, giggling the whole way. You sighed and went back to packing. Fortunately since your brother was living on the couch, he didn’t have a lot to pack. In retrospect you probably didn’t need the van. Oh well. Better to be over prepared than underprepared, you mused. 

You walked into the kitchen, “Excuse me, may I have the keys please? It’s time to start loading.”

Yoongi stood up, “Yeah sure, let’s go.”

You looked at him, “Oh no sir. I could not expect you to carry the boxes. Keys please.” You held out your hand.

Yooongi scoffed, “I can carry boxes.”

Aunt Vi quietly cleared her throat, “That would be too much surely. Won’t you please sit down and I’ll make you some lunch.”

Ah the intersectionality of age and class rank here were making your head spin, but you knew that he couldn’t turn down lunch from your Aunt, even as she turned around and he placed the keys in your hand while making a very strange face you couldn’t quite identify. You raised your eyebrows. Taking the keys, you pulled out your phone. 

YN: She’s a good cook, don’t worry. Sorry this is taking so long.

You and your brother each grabbed some boxes and started to move them out by the elevators. After about fifteen minutes you checked your phone.

YG: I feel weird not helping 

YN: You did help, you drove the van

YG: That doesn’t count

YN: Yes it does

You returned to the apartment where you saw Yoongi had somehow inserted himself into the kitchen and was cooking alongside Aunt Vi. That’s it, you thought, she’s never going to not mention him again. You sighed. Grabbing the last few boxes you and Jihoon began to fill the elevator and slowly move the items closer and closer to the van. An hour later it was all packed up.

“How was your soup?” You asked as you came back into the apartment, ripping off your sweatshirt. You had started off cold, but were now glistening with sweat.

“Really good, thanks again Auntie,” Yoongi looked over to Vi.

“Oh please, he’s the one who ended up doing most of the cooking. Are you single Mr. Min? Are you allowed to date your employees?--------”

Oh God it was happening, you were shocked it had taken this long honestly.

“Because even though YN isn’t much to look at, she’s a very hardworking girl.”

“We gotta go. Time to leave. Is there any leftover soup for Jihoon?” You asked as you cut her off and started scrambling around the kitchen for a takeaway container.

“There’s plenty of soup, grab some for Jihoon. Not for you though, you don’t need the calories.”

Oh God she was going full blown Auntie on your ass. Help. You looked over to Yoongi, mortified, but he was just standing there, the tiniest smile playing on his lips. He briefly flicked his eyes in your direction, causing you to feel flustered.

“Anyways, you should keep her in mind. Our family is unlucky, but we do try to make up for it.”

“I have the Soup, can we please leave now?  We have to return the van.” You grabbed your purse, sweater, soup, and coat.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yoongi said calmly. “Thank you for your hospitality Auntie. I hope to see you again soon :] .” He walked over near the door, put on his coat and took the soup from you.

“Put your coat on.” He chided

“I’m sweaty.” You responded

“You won’t be when you get back outside.”

You huffed but complied anyways. The poor man had suffered through an hour and a half of your family, you weren’t about to argue with him.

Your brother was waiting in the van with his headphones on listening to music. You climbed into the middle seat.

“Oh my God I am so sorry.” You said the minute the door closed.

“It’s fine. Like I said, not my first Auntie. She’s nice.”

“She called me ugly and told me not to eat.” You whined. “Hey...speaking of you called me ugly too the first time we met.”

Your brother took off his headphones; apparently interested in this conversation.

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck. “Did I say that to you? That doesn't seem like something I would say.”

“Well, no. But you didn’t disagree with me when I said it.” You side eyed him.

He laughed, “I think you know you’re not ugly. You don’t need me to tell you that.” He pulled out onto the main street.

“I don’t know. Having heard it every day of her life growing up, it might not be a bad thing to not say to her.” You heard Jihoon say from next to you.

You tensed up briefly. “Jihoon, it’s a joke. Everyone else at the interview was literally a supermodel. Everyone.” 

“Sorry. People calling my sister ugly doesn’t seem very funny to me.” He said and moodily turned to face the window.

This was the kind of awkward you were worried about. “Sorry. Jihoon is a little protective. Also he doesn’t understand jokes.”  You tried to lighten the mood by teasing. It did not work.

“Jokes are supposed to be funny. I understand that.” He said snidely from the passenger’s seat.

You sighed, “Anyways, thanks again for driving. You’ll turn right here and then there should be signs for the school in about 4 kilometers.”

Yoongi was very quiet. He didn’t want to piss your brother off again. You pushed play on the audio, welcoming a change of pace from the quiet. To your shock, he hit the pause button. “Let’s listen to it later.” He said quietly to you. He didn’t think the lyrics would put your brother in a better mood and he also didn’t particularly feel like sharing the vulnerable side of himself at the moment.

“Is it normal to tell someone they can’t listen to music in a car? Asking for a friend.”

“Stop being an asshole Jihoon. Mr. Min was nice enough to drive the van for us today to move you into the dorm. And to give me a job to pay for the dorm. You need to be more respectful.”  The phrase came out of your mouth before you could even stop it. It was a triggering phrase for both of you and you instantly regretted it.

**************

“Right.” Your brother said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  “Be more respectful. Just because someone’s older than you they deserve your respect no matter what. That’s what dad always said while he was beating us, remember?”

***************

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep your cool. “Oh my God. You’re supposed to be working through this shit in therapy not in a fucking moving van with me and my boss. I am so sorry.” You said to Yoongi who was trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t in the van at that exact moment.

“I didn’t ask to be in a moving van with you and your boss and I didn’t ask to be moved into the dorms today.” He argued back. 

“You’d rather still be on the couch at Aunt Vi’s? I can unload all this shit and cancel your room. I can totally do that right now.” You snapped at him.

Jihoon huffed angrily. Such a moody teen. 

“I’ll take that as a “no”,” you responded. “Yoongi, I am so sorry.”

“For the record, does your boss know our dad's a fucking psycho?” Your brother said in English. You had done terribly in English and hadn’t touched it since High School. You understood the word Fuck though and were getting ready to scold you brother 

Yoongi didn't want to overstep his bounds, but at the same time, your brother was being a rude little shit. The whole reason you had agreed to marry a guy you didn’t know was to take care of this ungrateful child. Before he could help himself, he responded in perfect English, “Yeah, I heard you dad was an asshole. And I'm sorry that happened to you. It shouldn’t have and it really sucks. But your sister works her ass off for you.”

Yoongi was pissed. You could tell that much by the tone. You understood sister and that was about it. Or maybe he said sweater. But it was probably sister. 

Your brother was clearly surprised by whatever he heard and also mildly irritated. “What do you know about any of that?”

“I know that in her job interview all she talked about was you and your little sister and how she worries about the two of you and that’s why she took a job where she is on call 24/7 and why she’s worked 2 jobs for the past 7 years.”

You understood the number 2. That was it. This was a passionate discussion on Yoongi’s part. You were getting ready to speak after several seconds of silence filled the van. 

Your brother twisted his body and looked at Yoongi. “---Do you….do you like my sister?””

More silence. What the hell were they talking about?

Yoongi cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, continuing to look straight ahead at the road. “I do. And we’re being rude by having a conversation that she can’t understand. So please stop it.”

Your brother paused for a moment before replying in Korean ”… Yes, hyung.” 

“If he's being rude let me know and I'll take his lunch money. I will literally untransfer funds.” You said, eyeing the two of them suspiciously. “I know how to say “fuck” in English and I definitely heard it.”

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” Yoongi replied. “Here, we can also listen to the word ‘fuck’ some more.” he turned the music back on. Since everyone else was having free therapy in the van, why not join? One song played before you all arrived at the dorms. 

“Go round up some strapping young men to carry these boxes. I have to find your RA.” You told your brother as Yoongi parked the van. He hopped out quickly, all too eager to escape. You rested your head against the headrest and pushed your hands against your eyes. “I am so sorry. Today has been a total nightmare. Worse than I even imagined.” You said, feeling like you might cry.

Yoongi sat there for a few seconds, reliving the afternoon. It had actually been mostly fun for him. “I had a good time. I got to meet your family and I got free soup.”

You looked over at him slightly bewildered. “We need to raise your standards for what a good day should look like Yoongi, because this was a total shit show.” 

“Hey, don’t cry. I hate it when people cry. Your brother has been through a lot. It’s fine. Really. I too was an angry rude teenager and I didn’t have nearly as good of a reason. Come on, let’s finish this shit and get the van back.” He unbuckled his seatbelt. 

You followed suit and entered the dormitory, following the signs. You introduced yourself to the RA, got the keys, and found your brother and two other guys standing outside the van. You recognized the one kid.

“Hey Noona,” He waved. You liked that one. 

Yoongi had apparently started unloading the boxes while you were meeting with the RA. You picked up one of the smaller boxes and headed up to the dorm. With the 5 of you, it didn’t take long to move all the boxes into the dorm.  You placed the soup into the mini-fridge. You sighed and looked around at the mountains of boxes, “Ok. Do you want me to stick around for the unpacking or….?” 

"No. We'll get it." Jihoon responded and walked with you out into the hallway. Yoongi was leaning against the wall near the elevators, scrolling through his phone. 

"Thanks. And I'm sorry about earlier." He said looking down. 

"It's OK, come here." You pulled him in for a hug. He was taller than you. When did that happen?  You squeezed extra tight and then pulled away, "Make sure to answer my texts or else I'll show up here. And I have your RA’s number. Got it?” 

"Yeah yeah." he looked around. 

You looked up at him and brushed some invisible dirt off his shoulder, "OK. I love you. "

" I love you too. "

With that you turned and joined Yoongi by the elevators." Let today end please. " You said, crossing your arms in front of your body. 

"Nope. Not yet. You still owe me dinner," he commented as the two of you entered the elevator. 

You sulked , "You got soup."

"You haven't eaten yet."

You shrugged. It was true. But you were upset and when you were upset you either wanted to eat everything or nothing. Today you felt like nothing. 

The two of you climbed into the van one last time. You rested your head against the window and listened to the music. Yoongi gripped the steering wheel tightly as ‘The Last’ began to play. 

He glanced a look over at you. Your jaw was firmly set and he saw tears rolling down your cheeks. Shit. This was not a good day for this. He paused the music. 

"Sorry, that's pretty heavy for today isn't it?" The car came to a stop at a light and the silence was palpable. 

You breathed out, trying to keep it level. "Sorry, just. You and my brother have that in common." You wiped your eyes as you tried not to cry. You took pride in generally being pretty stoic and good-natured. 

The light turned green. "I guess we're all just fucked up, huh?" 

You sniffled. "Yeah. It just hurts my heart to think about a world where you or my brother don't exist." 

Yoongi felt like someone had hit him with a ton of bricks. He swallowed through the lump forming in his throat as he managed a response, "Well, we're still here. That's what matters. Right?” He tried to sound positive.

“Yeah. I’m glad for that. Turn left.” NEXT CHAPTER @lidda  @anpanman-sonyeondan   @firefairy1  @cuteipat  @sugaslittlekookies  @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny @livelyjay @niniita-ah​

[lewis-faith]

Day 9, another full day yesterday. The current pattern is to wake at 6am and work on something or another until about 1am. It's a long day but I am getting used to it and building a routine.

It also helps having more sense of awareness about my general location, there is just less new stuff each day, so a certain amount of auto-pilot can be engaged.

With no driving jobs happening first thing, I decided to visit the Medyka border crossing again. I had heard there was a lot of activity there, so my first visit last week was clearly to the wrong part. I followed signs to a humanitarian centre but it was small and just for people to sleep over. After a bit more searching around I found a large camp with lots of vehicles situated right next to the checkpoint.

From the point where people can walk over the border, a long corridor of stalls has been setup to greet new arrivals. Free food and clothing is given away as well as information points and even a mobile phone provider was there.

Whilst trying to figure out if I could be useful as a driver I got a call to take some volunteers to Rzeszow then do a shop for a Ukranian family. The first volunteer was to be dropped off at the airport which was going swimmingly until the van started malfunctioning on the motorway.

It started by losing acceleration and progressivly got slower and slower as if a limiter was trying to slow the vehicle down. I managed to keep moving at about 90kmh until there was an exit off the motorway. As we began driving around the long looping exit the van became even slower, now down to 50kmh. With no hard shoulder this was a very bad place to break down.

Thankfully we made it off the slip road to the road proper, but ahead was a big hill over a bridge. We were highly unlikely to make it over that and again a terrible place to breakdown. Luckily there was a dirt track before the bridge so I resigned myself to calling for assistance and my passenger missing his flight. The warning lights that had come on, were on inspection totally useless - find a mechanic the instructions said.

Given road side assistance would take well over an hour to resolve, I popped the bonnet and checked all the fluids, gave the tyres a kick and listened for strange noises as I revved the engine. Standard non-mechanic procedure.

All my tests results seemed normal, so I gave it a few lashings of the accelerator in neutral - sometimes some high revs can do some weird voodoo. I turned everything off and then back on again and then drove down the dirt track. Hey presto, no warning lights. We made a detour to a nearby petrol station and checked the tyre pressures. With that looking fine and the van driving normally we agreed to risk continuing to the airport - another 45 minutes away. We made the right call and got there with no more problems. Another day, another challenge.

After dropping the second volunteer off to process refugee visa applications I moved on to the shopping. I essentially had to re-clothe a family of 6 (excluding the father). The mother, a 9 month old boy, a 3 year old boy, a 9 year old girl and a 15 year old boy - plus nappies, wipes and other baby care products. Most of the shop was done in Rzesow shopping mall (I'm becoming a regular face there now). All the kids clothes were found in one place which made life a bit easier. With myself wearing black combat trousers, hiking shoes and a big dark grey winter jacket I no doubt raised a few eyebrows with the sheer volume of clothes I bought but I refrained from getting caught up in social awkwardness. Most will understand I'm sure.

So onward to deliver the items to a hotel 20 mins outside Rzeszow. When I got there the receptionist couldn't find the family. After about 15 minutes of phone calls, drawing pictures and computer translations we finally figured out the name I was given was Anna but the actual name was more like Jahnna, in Ukrainian and with all the different character symbols. We pieced the recipients together by listing the ages of all the children, having four of them made that process more successful than it might have been for 2!

So the handover went well, only a few items were not quite right. My total guesswork for shoe sizes was pretty good, 3 out of 4 correct!

In the confusion I forgot I had put my coat in one of the shopping bags and some of their clothes in my rucksack. I nearly drove off leaving my coat (including passport) behind. The trials and pitfalls are ever-present.

Back it was to Przemysl with the volunteer, the van behaved all the way home.

[punksarahreese]

Act now, feel later | Marjan Marwani

Canon storyline; Marjan runs into trouble when the crew isn’t there to help

CW: Car accidents, injury, stitches mention, blood/medical gore

For @neworleansspecial’s 911 Lone Star premiere flash event

***

“Look out, Austin, we’re in for another storm this weekend! The forecast is calling for 35 mile per hour winds and heavy rain; time to postpone those family barbecues.”

The radio host’s words made Marjan sigh, it didn’t rain often in Austin but when it did it was always an event. She imagined it would be a long weekend, the rain already coming down enough that it was obstructing her vision. She had left home early that morning for that exact reason, assuming the highways would be a bit backed up due to the weather.

Backed up would be an understatement, though, because it took Marjan about 15 extra minutes to get through a jammed road. She was just turning the corner of a quieter backroad, one she had started to use as a shortcut to work after Mateo showed it to her, when she came across an unexpected sight. It had her slamming on her brakes, throwing her car into park without a thought. Swinging the door open, she called out and hoped she would get a response.

Across the road, balanced precariously on the shoulder, was a minivan. The front half of the vehicle was pretty crushed, rammed into a tree like it had been the one thing to stop it from rolling further off the road. There was another car stopped and someone was waving her over, their replies barely heard over the rain pelleting the ground. Marjan felt her heart sink as she got closer to them, hearing the terrified cries of a child from within the vehicle.

“Did you call 911?” she asked the man standing there, who looked just as worried as Marjan felt. She had just barely had the forethought to grab her small first aid kit from the backseat, though she guessed it wouldn’t be much help in this situation.

“Y-yes,” he looked alarmed when she immediately thrust the kit into his hands, dropping to her knees in front of the flipped vehicle. She winced at the wet feeling seeping through the fabric of her pants as she kneeled on the cold asphalt, hoping she wouldn’t accidentally catch some glass in the process. She leaned towards the shattered driver’s side window first, peeking in at the driver.

“Sir, can you hear me?”

She could see that the man had a head wound that was bleeding profusely, hoping it wasn’t as bad as it looked. He stuttered out a reply and looked as if he was going to turn to look at her, which had Marjan reaching in to stop his movement.

“Don’t move,” she said quickly, “You might have a head injury. Can you take a deep breath for me? I’m a firefighter, okay, I’m going to try to help you.”

“Are… m-my kids..?”

“How many kids were in the car, sir?”

“Two,” he replied, “Elliot is five… Isla is one. God, please... tell me they’re okay.”

Marjan told him to stay put, asking the man who was watching idly to ensure the father didn’t move until EMS arrived. She had heard whimpering in the back seat while she was talking to him, and the cries from earlier had been from another voice. That told her both kids were still alive, though she wasn’t sure in what shape.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tried, the back door would not open. Grunting a little under her breath, Marjan gave up after a second and went around to the other side of the car. She managed to get the passenger side sliding door of the vehicle opened a bit, though it took her a good two minutes of forcing it open.

“Elliot? Can you hear me?’

“D-dad?”

“Your dad is in the front seat, sweetie,” Marjan answered, “My name is Marjan, I’m going to help you out so you can see him, okay?”

“O-okay…”

“Is Isla okay?” Marjan asked, trying to keep the boy talking as she shimmied into the van. She could see him by that point but the toddler’s seat was rear facing, obstructing her view of the other baby. Elliot’s face was tearstained and had a few cuts but he was surprisingly alert, which was reassuring. Sniffling, he glanced over at his sister.

“She’s sleeping.”

That had Marjan pursing her lips, whispering a little prayer for Allah to protect this baby while they waited to get them out. A quiet baby was never good in an accident, especially since she had heard Isla crying when she had gotten out of her own car, which made her silence deafening. She was close enough to reach out to Elliot, wincing a bit when she felt something dig into her arm. Marjan probably should have been more careful but the searing pain barely registered as all she wanted to do was check on the kids.

“Does anything hurt?”

“A-arm. Head ouchie too, where’s daddy?”

“I’m going to get you out to see him,” she promised, “Can you unbuckle your seatbelt for me?”

As Elliot fiddled with his seatbelt, his injured arm clutched to his chest, Marjan reached across to check on Isla. She craned her neck, seeing the toddler was indeed unconscious like her brother said. Her dark hair was in her eyes, no sign of blood but she was unresponsive to touch. Pressing on the inside of her elbow, Marjan couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when she felt a rapid pulse through the baby’s sleeve. She was just about to ask Elliot if he was ready to go when she heard a familiar voice.

“Marjan?”

It was TK, his face appearing from the other side of the car as he glanced through the shattered window. His helmet hid his face partially but he looked concerned to say the least, trying to wrench the other door open so he could help her.

“TK, I have never been more happy to see that pretty face of yours,” she let out a shaky laugh to ease her own nerves, “That door is jammed. Elliot here says his arm and head hurts but he seems pretty okay otherwise. I have an unresponsive toddler over here, she has a pulse but I’m worried about head trauma.”

“Okay,” TK disappeared from the window and she just barely heard him shouting to the crew over the sirens. She hadn’t even registered the sounds around her until TK said something, before her whole mind had been intent on keeping these kids alive until someone got there. She felt a hand on her shoulder, glancing behind her to see her captain in his full gear looking at her incredulously.

“We wondered why you were late,” Owen said, “Can you get to the kids?”

“I think I can reach Isla, she’s strapped into a rear-facing harness seat so it might take a minute. Elliot could climb out from the other side if someone helps him or gets that door open.”

“Copy that,” she heard Paul’s voice from where TK had been moments before, gloved hand making sure there was no glass sticking out from the already destroyed window. With the others actively taking care of the rest of the family, Marjan could focus on the baby in front of her. She was still breathing, thankfully, but she didn’t stir when Marjan started yanking at the straps of her carseat. She tried to work quickly, loosening them enough to get the buckle undone. It was a tight squeeze in the vehicle, with the side airbags having gone off and glass and metal littering every free space. She eventually got the seat undone, shimmying even closer to pick up the baby without jostling her body too much.

“I got her,” she called out, trying to carefully shift backwards so she didn’t move Isla too much. She wasn’t sure why the toddler was unconscious but a head injury was as good a guess as any, so the less movement the better. Glancing behind her, Marjan stepped out of the van and almost bumped into TK who appeared behind her.

“She okay?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “Where’s medical?”

He led her to where Tim had parked the rig, Elliot already wrapped in a blanket and sitting on the seat across from his dad. The man had a C-collar on but was babbling away to Nancy, probably asking about his daughter. Michelle met them halfway, taking the baby from Marjan, who was a bit reluctant to let go.

“One year old female, unconscious and tachycardic,” she breathed as she followed after the paramedic, worried. She stumbled a bit as her foot caught a downed branch, “She was conscious when I got here but went quiet soon after.”

“We’ve got her,” Michelle promised as Rosewater took the infant from her to check her stats properly, “Marjan?”

She looked up, brow furrowing at Michelle’s concerned look. She wanted to ask why she wasn’t helping with the patients, instead she gestured for the firefighter to follow her to the side of the rig. A bit more sheltered from the rain, Marjan looked at her quizzically. The other woman reached out to grab gently at her arm, apologizing when she yelped a little.

“You’re bleeding.”

True enough, Marjan’s sleeve was ripped up her forearm and the side of her arm was bleeding. Upon further inspection, she winced when she noticed a particularly sharp piece of glass protruding from the wound. She hadn’t really felt it before, adrenaline running too high, but now that it had been pointed out she was aware of her pain. It stung, a lot, and she imagined it would be a nuisance at work that day. She blinked harshly against the raindrops that had started obscuring her vision, trying to look at Michelle for answers as she surveyed the wound.

“You’ll need quite a few stitches,” she said matter-of-factly, “Can I take the glass out and wrap it until then? The last thing I need is you bleeding out on me.”

Marjan wanted to protest, to claim she was fine because she could feel the crew watching. It's not that she thought they’d judge her, of course not, it was just that she hated appearing weak. She didn’t want them to worry about her or ask if she was okay, to her that would be embarrassing. It was a pride thing, which was shameful to even admit to herself. Still, she felt herself getting a bit dizzy, using her good arm to grab onto Michelle for stability. Her adrenaline was crashing, now that the victims were all safe and being taken care of.

“Careful,” Michelle’s voice was soft like always, “C’mon.”

Accepting the help, Marjan let herself be led to the other ambulance, not bothered by the hand Michelle kept on her back to steady her. She was attentive, always was, and Marjan was grateful for that. The one person besides Paul who saw through her confident façade was the paramedic, who more often than not would stop to ask her how she was doing before she left.

Aside from the fact that she was an adrenaline junkie, it was clear to Michelle that saving people was the reason she did things without considering her own safety sometimes. She knew Marjan got a bit more emotionally attached to calls than she wanted to admit, which was the cause of her frequent insubordination and fearlessness. She was desperate to help people and not afraid to put her own life on the line for it. The firefighter felt so much but didn’t let herself show it, which often led to her crashing when everyone else had gone home.

Alone in the back of the rig, Michelle pulled on a pair of gloves as she sat across from her. Watching idly, Marjan wasn’t as prepared as she thought for the pain she would feel. It was burning, feeling like she was ripping her skin open more with a smouldering blade. This was a time where she wished she had been wearing her gear, the thick jacket would have prevented this wound all together. With one quick move of the forceps, Michelle pulled out the glass with a gentle apology. Pressing a piece of gauze to the wound to staunch the blood, she looked at the other woman seriously.

“You’ll come to the hospital with us and get this looked after,” she used her free hand to grab the bottle of sterile saline from the shelf, “And then you’ll take the day off.”

“Michelle, I-”

“No arguments, Mar,” the nickname was said sternly but she knew there was affection behind it, “You helped them, let yourself be helped now.”

Marjan couldn’t help but squeak a little as the saline burned when it came in contact with her wound. She felt tears sting her eyes, much to her chagrin, and just nodded when Michelle looked at her again. She didn’t want to cry, even though she was sure it would be warranted given her discomfort. Gritting her teeth, she tried to keep her tone even.

“Okay…” She watched idly as Michelle packed the wound, winding sterile gauze around it with practiced ease. She was being gentle, probably worried about her accidentally passing out. After the excitement of a call wore off and the pain set it, injured first responders would often hide their discomfort until their bodies couldn’t take it anymore. What with the way she had been dizzy and the slight tremor of Marjan’s hands, Michelle wanted to keep an eye on her and maybe check her blood pressure. When she was done with the wound care, she patted Marjan’s knee and studied her pained expression for a second.

“Hey, you did well; even if going in there on your own was foolish.” Her tone was half teasing as she continued, “You’ve played the hero enough today, now let me take care of you.”

[vicunaburger]

Imperfect and inhuman, are we?

Fandom: School of Rock: The Musical (AU Verse) Chapters: 1/? Pairing: Dewey Finn x OC (Magdalena Newton) The Players: Dewey Finn, Magdalena Newton, Ned Schneebly, The School of Rock Students Word Count: 1,978 Warnings: M for Future Things

Notes: Y’all remember when I said I was going to play in in the Dewey Finn + vampire universe? WELL...here we go. Trying out a new “free-form” scene by scene chapter format, rather than a standard chronological order. We’ll see how this plays out

Chapter 1 - Night - Routine

The alarm went off at precisely 8:14pm.

From under the massive pile of blankets covering the twin-sized bed, an arm slithered out, feeling along the nightstand in the dark. The vibrations from the cellphone led the fingers toward their goal, tapping the screen - a few misses - before the noise finally ceased. Finished with its task, the arm retreated under the blankets, tucking itself inward like a snake retreating to its den.

At 8:17pm, the alarm went off again.

This time, an entire body followed the arm out of the blankets, turning off the alarm with one hand, and turning on a small desk lamp with the other. With a wide yawn, they stumbled out of bed, shuffling along the carpeted floor until they reached the bathroom. Luckily, this room had an automatic light fixture, the space filling with a soft white glow. Another automatic feature kicked on around the same time; a TV screen built-in to the vanity mirror taking up most of the wall. At once, the familiar voice of the weather channel anchor echoed around the tiled bathroom.

Magdalena Newton looked a mess when she woke up.

Her only saving grace was the fact she had the forethought to plait her long hair into a braid every night, or else she would have to deal with a rat’s nest besides the general unkept-ness of her appearance first thing in the morning. Absently, she untied the ribbon in her oil-black hair, watching the weatherman as she started to untangle the strands.

Sunrise was at 6:28am that morning; a good amount of time to take care of her errands.

Magdalena tapped the center of her vanity mirror and another screen snapped to life, along with some ring lights attached to a small camera. Within a few seconds, she could see herself in the mirror’s surface, as clear as though she were looking in the actual glass.

Technology was a marvel.

Her reflection was always such a strange thing to look at, to be honest. There were moments it didn’t seem like she was the one looking back at herself, only recently getting the ability to see herself within the past few decades. It was centuries before she could recall what she truly looked like, relying only on a painted portrait or a lover’s descriptions.

Both of which were never accurate.

Wincing at her haggard appearance, Magdalena started to work on fixing herself up for the night. No use going out looking like you just rolled out of bed… even if it were true. She was raised to be a proper lady when in view of other people, and that took some care and effort on her part. Besides, one never knows who you might see wandering the streets so late at night, or whom you might be looking for.

—

Was it just him, or did the sliding door of his van sound louder when it was dark outside?

Checking his watch in the circular beam of the streetlamp, it was just around 9:00pm when he parked his van outside of his apartment building, sliding open the door to start moving equipment from the vehicle to the home. It had been another late-night practice session at the concert venue with his students, which meant he had spent the last hour or so of practice getting berated by parents for keeping their kids so late.

The gods of rock care not for simple mortal concepts like time. Or calling parents in advance. Or responding to the last 15 text messages you got.

Eh, he knew they would shut up about it once they saw all the hard work the kids were putting into the show. It was shaping up to be quite the epic mid-summer concert spectacular he had seen in his dreams. The uptight little bastards were really doing him proud.

Dewey Finn stuck the handle of his guitar case between his teeth, trying to balance the bottom half with his knee, and simultaneously grab his satchel from under the front seat. It was a good idea, in theory, had it not been for the fact that the angle of the guitar case was preventing him from reaching into the van. He wasn’t about to set his prized guitar case on the street, nor did he feel like making two trips up and down the building’s stairwell.

He lost count of how many times he had sent angry emails to the supervisor about the busted elevator, only to be told it would “take some time” because it was a “historic building”.

Historic was a polite word for collapsing at any given moment.

Dewey couldn’t complain too much, all things considered; the apartment’s mysterious landlord company gave him a break on the rent due to him using the space for education. Apparently, whoever own the place was a fan of music, which gave them an upgrade in the landlord scale from Hell spawn to Minor Annoyance.

Shifting his weight to keep the guitar case balanced, Dewey tried again to reach the satchel, muttering a slew of curses with a mouthful of leather handle.

—

Magdalena heard the van door before she even rounded the corner, which made her take pause during her speedy trek down the sidewalk. Pulling out her phone, she checked the time: 9:07pm. He was a little earlier than she anticipated, putting a significant kink in her plans for that evening.

For the two and a half weeks, she had clocked him arriving at his apartment no earlier than 9:39pm, which would leave her plenty of time to scale the fire escape until she reached his floor. Nothing scandalous ever happened during her vigils; she was more than content to listen to the sounds of life from his apartment. His weighty footsteps padding around the creaky floors, rummaging around for something to eat, playing video games late into the night. Speaking with other people either in person or on the telephone.

And her favorite hobby of his: singing.

Was it still considered voyeurism if one didn’t actually look at their object of affection? Listening was more than enough. Hearing him plunk out little tunes on his guitar and sing classic rock ballads were something she could have listened to all night if she had the opportunity. She would risk staying out beyond daybreak if he had stayed up all night singing; her own private concert, and he didn’t even know anyone was listening.

For now.

Still, she was debating if it was too early to introduce herself. What is in doing so, she was committing a grave miscalculation of her plans and would therefore have to resort to… unpleasant measures? What if he didn’t want to know her? What if he ended up not liking what he found out?

What if it was something mundane: she wasn’t the right type? The right build or height? The right gender? He hadn’t brought anyone into his apartment save his friend - Nathan? Nolan? - that she could tell. However, his daytime activities were as of yet a mystery, which could have meant this entire plan would end in utter disaster if he were spoken for.

Nope. There was no use thinking the worst of things without even making an attempt.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

—

The more he struggled, the more his jaw began to ache.

Dewey was stubborn more than anything, which his best friend Ned always pointed out just how illogical it was for him to be such a damn slacker 90% of the time when he would get into his hellbent fits of motivation. He was going to make it up the stairs in one go, and he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself doing it.

Such delusions of grandeur can only go so far before one’s hubris decided to take the driver’s seat.

Dewey’s jaw finally gave out, causing his guitar case to tip over across his knee and gain a bit of air before starting to fall to the dirty sidewalk below. The whole thing was like a slow-motion sequence in a movie; Dewey reaching out his hands, fumbling for purchase on the leather case, and ultimately sending it further away from him when he failed to grasp it tight.

Unable to watch the carnage, he screwed his eyes shut tight, waiting for the inevitable crashing of his precious instrument hitting cement-

-which never happened.

Cautiously opening one eye, he peeked out in the darkened space beyond the streetlight, seeing his guitar case being held oh so carefully by a pair of delicate hands. Fully opening his eyes, he followed those hands up their respective arms until he came face to face with his savior. A woman, about his height, stood next to his van with the case secure in her grip. It was hard to see her in the shadows, even more so with her face obscured by the neck of the guitar case.

“Clumsy.” The woman said, her voice clear and crisp in the still air.

Dewey was immediately taken aback by her speech, his overly sensitive musical ear picking up a mix of accents he couldn’t place, and a soft, rounded lisp near the front of her mouth. Within a few seconds, however, he was far more concerned with the welfare of his guitar, reaching out and gently taking the case from her.

“You… you saved Tawny from certain death. My precious axe. My baby.” He cradled the case like a small child, setting it down in the van with great care. “I was such a fool to treat you so carelessly.”

The woman tilted her head, “Tawny?”

“Tawny. Ya know, like the girl from the White Snake video? Only the hottest woman to ever dance on the hood of a car.” Dewey replied, “Not… not that it was her only quality.”

“Never met her, so I couldn’t say.” She replied, a bit of laughter lilting through her voice this time. “She was attractive though, no shame in saying it.”

Whirling around on his heels, Dewey finally turned his full attention to the woman, almost falling over into the passenger door of the van once he got a good view of her. He didn’t know what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t… her.

“Snow White” was the immediate image that popped into his head. She looked pale as a ghost in the dim shadows, with dark hair tied intricately with braided bits gathered into a low ponytail, and her bright blue eyes catching the light like some nocturnal creature. The stark difference between her skin and her inky hair, coupled with her all black ensemble gave her the appearance of a living black and white image. The only color visible in the darkness with a bright, robin’s egg blue scarf tied in a bow around her neck.

“Uhhh…. I… you… wow…” Dewey leaned against the van, trying to act casual. “I mean, w-what’s a girl like you doing on a sidewalk like this? It’s late for a casual urban hike.”

“Protecting defenseless musical instruments from certain death.” She mirrored his stance, placing a hand on her hip. “I moonlight as a vigilante.”

He nodded, holding out his hand in a friendly gesture, “Ah, well, consider me a grateful citizen oh Superhero- Lady- Ma’am. Wow- you know what? That was lame. I’m just gonna show myself out before I embarrass myself any further.”

Dewey started to take his hand away, but not before the woman took hold of it, shaking it with a firm grip, “All in a night’s work, fair citizen.”

The woman - reluctantly- let go of his hand, stepping around him and continuing her way down the sidewalk. As though finally discovering that: yes, he had a brain, and yes, he should use it immediately, Dewey jogged a couple paces to try and catch up to her. She stopped when she heard him approaching, which made him bump into her softly, having not anticipated the sudden pause.

After steadying himself, Dewey ran a hand through his hair awkwardly, “Listen. Maybe… maybe we can start over? Because this whole night is gonna keep me up for weeks if I don’t try and regain my dignity. I’m Dewey Finn.”

Laughing softly, though she covered her mouth delicately with the back of her hand, she nodded. “Fair enough, Dewey Finn. I’m Magdalena.”

Writing Tags: @amywright @mrgeuse  @hoodoo12 @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @a-subconscious-manifestation @asriells @missihart23 @heknowshisherbs

[sell-our-skins]

Day 4 of Paradise Motel Week Post Canon AO3 Link ~ Hum Hallelujah “Trying to honor the dead is really difficult when the person who killed them is *right there*”

The Girl was struggling to close her backpack. It was a fairly cheap thing, recently bought by her mom. The shade reminded her of apricots, and all of the times she used to steal fruit flavored candies with Ghoul. Actual fruits were impossible to come by in the zones, or at least they used to be, but with BL/ind being gone, she supposed that she could try a real one now.

It was hot in the car. She was sitting in the passenger seat and the sun was beating down on her through the windshield. Her door was open, occasionally giving a short gust of wind. ‘Mom’s getting the keys,’ she told herself. Soon she could crank up the air conditioning and try to relax. That was, if the bag would actually close.

The zipper refused to budge. She gave it another exasperated tug, “Motherfucker,” she hissed out. Stupid zipper. Stupid backpack.

“Motorbaby?” Maya poked her head into the front seat of the van. Her dark hair, which was streaked with the occasional grey, was pulled up into a loose bun and a leather jacket thrown over a plain green tank top, “You need help?”

The Girl sighed, silently handing her mom the backpack in defeat. Maya smiled warmly, opening up the glovebox in front of the Girl with a gentle click. It was filled to the brim with trinkets from their adventures so far. The older Killjoy pulled out a half melted blue candle and began to carefully rub it over the zipper lining.

The Girl arched one of her eyebrows.

“Don’t question me, child of mine,” she warned with a chuckle, setting the candle down on the dashboard. Maya firmly grabbed the stubborn zipper, and closed the bag with ease.

“I take back my eyebrow raise. You’re clearly a deity in disguise,” Maya rolled her eyes, handing the Girl her bag and buckling herself up. The Girl carefully set the fruit-colored-bag in the backseat.

Maya started the van, and she started to head towards Route Guano. It was only now sinking in, what they were doing and where they were going. The Girl could feel her stomach flip with anxiety and her head filling with doubts.

It was apparently visible in her face, since her mom commented on it, “You know, we don’t have to do this. We could… make an altar for ourselves. Just a family thing.”

She actually considered it for a second, but no. She wasn’t going to let some asshole ruin her day

“I’ll be fine.”

--=+=--

The two Killjoys pulled up to the Ultra V hideout, which was formally some type of restaurant. A fast food place, most likely, but it was nearly unrecognizable. It was covered in spray painted tags and other interesting looking ornaments. However, today, it was also decorated with different types of desert wildflowers.

Pretty much as soon as the car had stopped, a teal haired Killjoy burst through the front of the restaurant, followed by their pink haired twin.

“KIIIIIIID! KID KIID!” the twins called out, running towards the car as fast as they could. The Girl felt a little smile appear on her face as she opened the door and hopped out of the van. Instantly, Vaya had pulled her into a tight hug and loudly exclaimed, “I can’t believe you actually came!”

“Yeah, glad you could make it, tumbleweed,” Vamos tried to play faer previous excitement off casually. Fae leaned against the van, a caricatured version of looking cool. Though they somehow made it work.

“Don’t scratch the paint, pup,” Maya piped up, hopping out of their car with a bag slung over her shoulder, “Can ya’ lend me a hand?”

“‘Course, Ms. Psychic,” Vaya called out, letting go of the girl and rushing to the other side of the van, their sibling following closely behind.

Merely a few seconds later, Vinyl came walking towards the group. The Girl gave him a wave, grabbing her apricot backpack from the backseat. Vinyl pointed at her backpack, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, uh, I got it. You can see if mom needs help, though,” he nodded at her words and travelled around the vehicle. The Girl glanced over at the doorway. The last member of the Ultra Vs was just standing there. Staring back at her and leaning against the doorway. His hair had faded slightly, turning a sort of pinkish red.

She sighed and looked up into the sky. Probably around 4.

‘You’ve been through hell and back you can deal with this,’ she ran a hand through her hair and made her way into the Ultra V hideout. Val’s eyes were practically staring right through her. Like a snake watching its prey. The Girl just tried to not acknowledge it.

She looked around at the now decorated restaurant. There were a handful of wildflowers in a variety of colors in cans and petals on the ground. A desk had been pushed out into the front room, making a makeshift altar. It was extremely plain, the only things on it being a faded polaroid of Volume in a soft yellow frame, a couple bad luck bead bracelets placed on the corners of the picture frame, a bag of chips, most likely stolen from Tommy, and a hair dye kit in Electric Frankenstein.

She opened up her bag and began to pull things out of it. Beads, photos, and other precious items. The Girl started to add things to their shared altar, making sure everyone had a section. Her family, her friends, no one was left out.

“Surprised you’re even here, halo head,” Val finally piped up, after what quite possibly could have been the most awkward silence.

‘Halo head,’ she mused to herself, ‘haven’t heard that one in a minute.’

“I’m here to help, don’t get sour,” she said with a sigh, carefully setting out both the battery powered and real candles.

“Help with what? None of this even… matters,” he moved away from his spot in the doorway and towards the altar she was working on.

She didn’t even dignify his sentence by turning to look at him, continuing to set out the picture frames. Val was just trying to get a rise out of her, she knew it.

“I mean, what deity is this for, again?”

“The Phoenix Witch,” the Girl strung a string of bad luck beads around the top of the desk.

“Yeah, the humanoid in a feather coat.”

She gave Val a somewhat annoyed look from over her shoulder, “Just a few months ago you saw me explode into a ball of green electricity,” she went back to what she was doing.

That seemed to set him off, really make him flare up, “I’m not gonna let some bomb with a silver tongue make my crew-”

“Heyyyyy!” Vaya announced their presence as they burst in through the front door. When they noticed how tense Val was, they cleared their throat, “Hope I didn’t interrupt your little get together.”

“Nope, we’re fine,” the Girl put on a fake smile. Apparently it was believable enough, because they let it go with a shrug.

Vaya was followed in by the rest of the Killjoys, all holding different bags filled with goodies.

Val’s anger seemed to fizzle out, since he practically slunk back into the background. It was like a sparkler, going from loud, bright, and fiery to silent in a matter of minutes. A sparkler in Poison Red hair dye. It still made her frown when she thought of it.

--=+=--

The altar was almost completely done, and Vamos was helping with the finishing touches. It was packed full of gifts and photographs, all meant to honor the ghosted. Maya, Vinyl, and Vaya were all in the restaurant’s kitchen, cooking both for the altar and for all of the other Killjoys. There was laughter coming from the kitchen. Well, Vaya and Maya were laughing, Vinyl was trying to fight the smile that wanted to appear on his face. The others were able to hear due to the openness of the restaurant. Val was hunched over on the couch, scribbling in his notebook.

“Lookin’ pretty shiny,” Vamos adjusted one of the frames near the back, since the glare of the lights had made it difficult to see. In it was a photo of Dr. Death Defying and Cherri Cola that the Girl had stolen out of Dr. Death’s station. Faer smile faded almost instantly.

“Christ, I kinda miss the old man,” fae mumbled, tone somewhat sorrowful, maybe even regretful. Fae brushed some of their neon hair out of faer eyes and continued to stare at the frame for a moment. Val shifted on the couch, no longer hunched over. No, now he was listening.

“Yeah, but, I guess… it happens… in a way?” the Girl struggled to find the words, she could feel herself getting somewhat choked up.

“It wasn’t his time,” Maya added, her tone laced with bitterness, “It’s a damn shame, but he’s with the witch now”

“God can you hear yourselves? He was a broken record. A dust angel. What’s the point of all of this?” Val’s voice snapped through the conversation. Everyone was tensely staring at Val, now. A stiff silence having come over the room.

“You wouldn’t know a broken record if you were hit over the head with one,” the Girl snapped back, after what felt an eternity, “The hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you just enjoy something for once?”

Val wrinkled his nose at her, storming out of the building without another word. Fuck.

“Guess you really blew up on him,” Maya tried, her joke falling flat.

--=+=--

It had only been around 15 minutes. The Girl hesitantly poked her head out of the door, looking at Val, who was sitting on the stairs.

“What?” he didn’t look up at her, like he thought the pavement was the most interesting thing in the zones. The stars were just starting to pop up in the sky, the sun sinking behind its spot in the hills.

The Girl just plopped down next to him and stared up at the sky, “You don’t have to like me, Val.”

Val looked up from his pavement, staring at the Girl with a look of mostly confusion.

“We just can’t keep pretending like we aren’t bothered by each other,” she ran a hand through her hair, focusing on a particularly bright star.

There was a beat of silence, “And I know you’re too stubborn to agree. It’s fine,” she hoped that her words came off as lighthearted. The last thing she needed was Val snapping at her again.

“You like the stars?” he finally spoke up.

She broke her staring contest with the bright star to glance at her fellow Killjoy, “Yeah, uh…” The Girl ran a hand through her hair again, debating whether to share what just popped into her head.

“Party, they used to tell me that when you got ghosted you would get turned into a star,” Val looked over at her, his face unreadable, “It always made me feel better, when I would hear people talking about claps going South on the radio. Made me feel like they were just… turning into stardust.”

He looked like he was processing her words, struggling to find the right response.

“Shiny,” is what he finally landed on.

“Yeah, shiny.”

[1-800-hellraiser]

(Just a P.S.A, this is more of a 'father and daughter' type thing, in this oneshot, you're 15. MAPs are disgusting. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.)

Requested by: no one 

Pages: 7.5

Words: 2,733

Genre: fluffyyyyyyyy

Associated song: Daddy Issues - The Neighborhood

!TW! Mentions of family issues, mental and emotional abuse, blood, murder and some swearing.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

"And if you were my little girl, I'd do whatever I could do. I'd run away and hide with you, I love that you got daddy issues." 

​​​      Throughout your life, you were a good kid. You followed directions, you were kind and friendly, everything a parent could ask for in a child. Except, your parents were different, your parents hated you. They would call you names, manipulate you and put you down. You obviously hated it, so, one day you snapped. You killed your family, you didn't feel guilty.

     Now, you live in a mansion with a bunch of serial killers, some human, most not. They are your family now, and you're glad to call them that. One being in particular that makes you feel this way is Hoodie. He was the first one to take you to Slender's mansion. Since then, you've been training to becime a proxy, just like him. 

     You see him as a father figure, you never said anything about it though. You don't want your relationship with him to be ruined. You're scared that if you tell him how you'll feel, he'll abandon you. The only  one who knows about this is Slender, since he's the only one (other than Hoodie) that you trust in the mansion with this information. 

      You have a big day ahead of you today. You go on your first mission with Hoodie. You've been living in the mansion for about six months, those months have been used as training months. Now, you're ready for you're first misson as a proxy. You're excited, but also very nervous. What if you mess it up. What if the target gets away. What if you lose Hoodie.  What if you lose his respect. What if-

      "Good morning Y/n. You have to get up to get ready for the mission. You've got thirty minutes, I'll be waiting downstairs." You turn in your bed to face Hoodie. You take your hand from under your covers and give him a thumbs up. He chcukles at your action and closes the door. 

   After Hoodie leaves, you roll to the edge of your mattress and sit up. You raise both your arms above your head and stretch your back. You get up and pad over to your dresser. You open up the first drawerbto get undergarments and socks. The next drawer, you pull out your f/s (favorite shirt). You open the second to last drawer to grab some denim jeans.

   You walk over to the bathroom built into your room. You put your clothes on the edge of the sink, and grab the towel that you used yesterday. You gently turn the handle to adjust the temperature. Silently taking off your pajamas, you toss them on the floor. Making a mental note to get them when you get put of the shower, you step into the shower. 

    You step out of the shower and grab your towel. Wrapping the towel around you, you pick up your pajamas with a dry hand, then toss them in with your dirty clothes. You pad back in to the bathroom and dry yourself off. After you dry off, you style your hair how you want. After that, you put on some deodorant and start putting on your clothes. 

    "Damn, this smells good." You comment to yourself  about your body fragrance. You look in the mirror above your sink. You twist and turn a bit, then put your hands on your hips confidently. "I look like a boss ass bitch," You comment at your reflection. You walk out of the bathroom and grab your combat boots that are put neatly next to your bedroom door. 

    Sliding on your boots and tying them tight, you grab your weapon of choice. A simple aluminum baseball bat. You also grabbed your plain black zip-up hoodie, and headed downstairs. You try your best to walk down the stairs as quietly as you possibly can. You don't want to wake anybody up. Especially Jeff, you rather not get stabbed today. 

   Silently stepping off the last stair, you gently speedwalk to the living room. The living room is also close to the kitchen and the front door. The only thing dividing the kitchen from the living room was a counter. Bringing yourself back from the decor of the murder mansion, you turn to see a smiling Hoodie. He doesn't have his mask on yet, which suprises you greatly. 

   Hoodie always wears his mask, even if its unbearably hot outside, or when he's sleeping. You don't understand how its comfortable, but you learned from living with a bunch of serial killers to just not question it. "You ready to go?" His soft tone brings you back from your thoughts. You just simply nod and walk out the door with him. 

   The pastas and proxies don't normally have to use cars to get to their destination, but there are rare occurrences where they do. Only on missions that take more than an 45 minutes in walking time. This one was not an exception, just driving to this person's house will take you and Hoodie about a hour and a half.  

  The only car the pastas and proxies have is this big white van. Dubbed 'the candy van' by Jeff and BEN. Because of it's nature in media, you can see why the name sticks. You hop into the passenger seat and make yourself comfortable. You silently stare out the window into the vast forest that surrounds you.

   You see why Slender put the mansion in the middle of a forest. Even if most of the inhabitants are stuck there, at least they have a beautiful view. You're torn away from your fixation on the forest by the revving of the ignition. You steal a glance at Hoodie, then relax into the questionably stained seat of the van. 

   The car ride was full of you seeing Hoodie become more, how do I put it, talkative? Yeah, he told you a lot about his past, you knew some if it, but not all of it. You feel honored to have this information and trust. So, its only fair you tell him your story as well right? You told him everything, everything from the nitty-gritty, to your favorite memories with friends. Mini road trips are magical. 

    Hoodie pulls into a rocky drive way at an unknown l youocation. The little GPS on his phine still showes about a five minute walk to the destination. He takes his phone, turns it off, and slips on his ski mask. He glances over at you, you are spacing out at the forest in front of you. "You okay?" His voice cuts through the air like a knife. You blink a few times, trying to get your train of thought back on track. "Yeah, I'm good, I just spaced out," You explain sheepishly.

   Hoodie nods understandingly. You both hop out if the car parked in the dense forest area, and make your way to the victim's house. "So, what's the sitch Hoods?" You ask, not knowing the plan because you and Hoodie forgot to talk  about it on the way there. But it was worth it. 

   "A woman by the name of Annie Butler has been sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. She's finding out way too much. So, we have to take some files of hers then kill her." You nod, hyping yourself up to do this. Admittedly, you are a bit anxious, but that won't stop you from gaining more of Hoodie's trust and respect. 

   You are hoping you don't fuck this up big time. You cant lose the bond that you and Hoodie have, it's way to important to you. You give a gentle sigh and keep walking with Hoodie.

  Eventually, you arrive at the house of the person of interest. The house is white and the trim is a robins egg blue. It looks like the house of the traditional nuclear family, but with a bit more, suspicion. You start walking towards the house through the drive way before Hoodie grabs your arm.

   "We gotta go around back to break in, she'll see us comming up the driveway." He informs, you blush, embarrassed about not thinking about that.  You follow Hoodie around to the back of the house. Annie has a very nice white patio with a glass table and five black metal chairs with white cushons on top. She has a medium sized firepit adjacent to the patio near the backdoor. 

   "I think we should sneak in through that window." You say, pointing to the window next to the patio. Hoodie nods and you both start to walk over to the window. Once you reach the window, you slide up the protective  screen and pull up the window.

   Luckily, this lady is dumb enough to leave her windows unlocked. You set your butt on the windowsill and stick one leg in, then your torso, then the other. Hoodie follows in suit as you stand in the garage. You see the door that leads from the garage to the house and go to open it. Unfortunately, this lady is smart enough to lock the doors.

   "What dumbass doesn't lock their windows, but locks their doors?" You say, Hoodie chuckles softly at your jab. You smile and fish around in your pocket, you grasp the cold metal and pull out a bobbypin. You pick at the lock for a while before hearing a small 'click'. You try the handle again and the door opens this time. 

   You and Hoodie both sneak into the house, you do not see Annie yet. "I'm going to go check the kitchen, you check the living room," You give Hoodie a thimbs up and tou both ho your separate ways. You silently pad over to the doorway leading into the living room and peak inside. 

   The living room walls are painted a light grey. There is a black couch on one side of the wall, and a flat screen t.v on the other. In the corner between the couch and the wall is a house plant in a modern, porcelain plant pot. Above the couch sat a few picture frames with pictures of what looks to be Annie and her family. You give a slight smile, she looks so happy in the photos. You see no sign of Annie.

   You meet Hoodie at the foot of a stairwell. It probably leads up to her room. "This stairwell leads up to Annie's room," called it. You and Hoodie walk up the steps, being as quiet as humanly possible. You both see two doors "Her door is the left one" Hoodie states nonchalantly. You silently step towards the eggshell white door. You take a deep breath, and roughly shove the door open. Bat in hand, you speedwalk into the room, Hoodie right behind you. 

   You see Annie sitting at a desk with a monitor on it. She flinches into her chair and whips her head at you and Hoodie. "W-who are you, and what are you doung in my house?" Annie gets up from her chair and stumbles backwards a bit. "You know too much, we can't have that, we know what you know." Hoodie states reaching for the handgun in his hoodie pocket. 

   "S-STAY BACK", Annie shouts, pulling a meat cleaver from under her pillow. You chuckle lowly, "Do you really think we're afraid of you, Annie?" You seer, she gives you a look of shock and horror. "How do you know my name?" She questions, you laugh in her face. "Oh dear Annie, we know every little thing about you~" you laugh and step towards her menacingly. She stumbles backwards and falls on her butt, she scoots as far away from you until her back hits her bed. 

   You tilt your head to the right, signaling Hoodie to go get her files. You slowly and menacingly step towards Annie, every step you take your bat hits the floor with a solid 'thunk'. Your standing toe to toe with Annie's shaking form, you raise your bat. "P-please don't." She whimpers, her arms blocking her face. You chuckle and get ready to swing the bat.

   "Too late, sweetheart." You say as you bring the bat down as hard as you can onto her head. Blood spews all over everything. Annie lets out a scream as you bring down your bat once more on her head. She lets out a gurgle as blood drips down from her bashed in skull, out her nose, and her mouth. Hit her with your bat right in her temple to make sure she's dead. Once you know she's dead, you lean on your bat, and try to wipe spewed blood off your s/t face. 

   "You got the files?" You turn to Hoodie, he holds up a thick manilla folder. "Ok, let's go." You say, as you start to navigate to the front door, Hoodie follows in suit. You both find your way out of the house, and take a trail through the forest to get to the van, so you won't get noticed. You finally get to the dirty white van and you hop into yhe passenger side. 

   Almost as soon as you both get on the road, you pass out. Who knew bludgeoning someone to death with a bat could knock the energy out of you. When Hoodie sees you passed out, he smiles and chuckles softly. It's normal for a new proxy to clonk out after their first mission. 

   Once you and Hoodie got home, it was about 5:30 pm (17:30). Hoodie gently shakes you awake. "Y/n, you gotta get up, we're home now." He whispers gently to your sleeping form. You stir and slightly open your eyes, you blink and sit up straight. You yawn and stretch a bit. "How long was I out for?" "About 45 minutes." Hoodie informs, you nod, grabing your bat and getting out of the van. 

   You and Hoodie proceed to walk back to the mansion. "Hey kid, you did a great job today, I'm proud of you." You smile, still sleepy and out of it. "Thanks dad." Hoodie stops in his tracks, you turn back and let what you said sink in. "UH, I meant thanks Hoods, eheheh." You say and speedwalk as fast as you can to the mansion. 

  As soon as you enter the mansion you haul ass to your room. You shut the door and run into your bathroom. You sit in the toilet seat, trying not to hyperventilate as you flip your shit. You just called Hoodie dad, you're royaly fucked. You start toncry a little before you hear a knock on your door. You stop everything you're doing.

   "Y/n, please come out, I need to talk to you." You jear Hoodie's soft voice call from your door. You sigh, fuck it. You get up and trudge to the door. Your shaking hand grips the knob and turns it slowly. Your door creaks open to reveal Hoodie. "I'm so sorry for what I said I didn't mean to say  it out loud I don't want you to think of me any less and I would like to forget this ever happened." You spew out, flinching back when you're finished. Hoodie frowns underneath his mask and puts a hand on your tense shoulder. 

   "It's ok Y/n, I never knew you thought of me that way, but, It's okay." He almost whispers. You start to shake again, Hoodie sees this and engulfs you in a hug. He gently rocks you back and forth as you let out muffled sobs of shame. "It's okay honey I'm here, I'm here." 

   "Love is just a history that they may prove, and when you're gone, I'll tell them my religions"

[irisgleam]

im trying 30 days writing challenge (very old i know but im bored)

Day 1

Take us through a written walk down your street and to your favorite place through the eyes of somebody else.

he walked down the dotted steps, the lights are annoyingly yellow. the faster he walked , the more voices begin to be heard. he lives in the 7th floor , an old apartment belonged to his grandfather. he liked to live here alone , a far building in a poor town with no one to knock at his door. yet leaving it was very disturbing and hardly happening . but this day , was different .

the street was quite , the golden streetlights reflects a brown vision in his eyes. it was midnight , and the tiny messy shops started to close. and the kids with the metal bicycles is yawning. he jogged along the pavement. where all type of men sitting on old cafe chairs. either talking with each other or just fighting inside their minds.

two kids that looks like they're in the 15's with a phones. another groups of adults arguing about football matches or their jobs. at the last couple tables ordering more coffee to ease their fight inside them.

Faris , who is still running to catch a "tok-tok" ,admits he once was one of them. when he was young enough to drink coffee , but he always insisted to go with his grandfather and be his companion . until he died , but the long line hopeless men never did.

he catches one and asked him to drive to the long ride metro-buses. they crossed streets that looks exactly like Faris's street. at least just for Faris , he always thought he lived in a maze in and out.

he left and paid with no arguing , and the long blue buses and vans are filled with arrivals. he took one of them , with yellow eyes that gazing at its way. it wasn't full , so he waited until the driver was satisfied with the number of passengers.

The bus should take him to Alexandria . Where the land falls to the shore , and the water holds the sand.

as he searched it would've take two hours to get there. which follows his plan.

he doesn't pick up his phone or wear his earphones , he thought bringing them would pass the time. but he noticed that there is enough time has already passed with a blink. he fell asleep as soon as his head was cured with silence.

the bus stopped at a gas station , and the passengers walked down to get some fresh air. there were some plastic chairs outside and magazines on top of them. Faris sat and watched the stars which has never been this clear. the breeze was soft and cold with the smell of seashells and waves . he opened one of the magazines , which half of it was about celebrities and the other about the Arabian political situation. he smiled sarcastically . it was like facing the harmful truth while watching your favorite tv show.

he grabbed his earphones and started playing his classical music playlist. no lyrics or human sound . and the short soft piano notes was like the starry sky , the warm violin is like the sad sea breeze.

he closed his phone and glanced at his dark reflection on its screen . narrow brown eyes and a long face , his hair is nearly visible out of his wool raven hat.

he was normal enough to not being noticed.

 Here he is , his bare feet are sleeping underneath the sand , and the dreamy blue waves dripping in his ears. The  sky is getting brighter , he push his hair backward so the water could clean his mind. He is laying on the land . feet facing people , hair flying with the sea , and eyes praying to its god.

 He imagine himself dying here, if not now. His soul will sail to heaven by the breeze of the sea . maybe he would be a bird or a whale in his next life. His body would turn into soft pleasant grains of white sand. Some will fly with the wind , some will be used in building castles by the hands of a child.

 The last smell would be the salty wind and fresh grass.

The last taste would be the hot coffee in the rest station .

The last sight would be the dawn painted in the sky.

The last sound would be the sea crashing and the birds crying.

And the last thought would be

Peace….

[overly-rustled-jimmies-blog]

September 25th, Night shift

    I bought Dominoe’s beforehand for everyone because I was sick of eating chicken, and I figured everyone else was too. So I spent some time waiting for that before work while listening to Joji’s new album (absolute banger btw), and I went to the KFC parking lot after they gave me the pizzas. My coworker/ friend Lenny, which isn’t his real name, was already there so we chilled in his van listening to ICP for about 15 minutes before we went inside to start our shifts. As soon as we walk in it already looks like everyone is in a state of chaos; there’s 3 big bucket meals on the screen and only one is packed, the morning shift people almost immediately clock out when they see us, and our boss Jack is just standing in the office looking confused.

   I clocked in and they told me to start collecting at drive-thru ASAP and so I did. The guy at the window had to have been waiting at least 10 minutes which is a horrendous time - we try to aim for under 3 minutes at KFC - but luckily he was understanding and not much of a dick. At the KFC I work at the cash drawer is by the window as well as the bags so it’s always congested when it’s busy cuz I’ll be trying to get change while someone is getting utensils and condiments and the person taking orders is trying to pass by to make a lemonade. It’s always hell in the morning but it was only like that until we got the bucket meals out. After that there was a moment of peace, I was able to stock some things that I knew we’d need later on and just bullshit with my coworkers. It lasted about 10 minutes, and this was just the calm before the storm.

    We were slammed from 4:40 p.m. until we closed at 9 and then we had one more guy that came at 9:05 that we had to serve. Most customers were decent people but I dealt with my fair share of dipshits and Karens. It’s KFC policy that if your order is over $25 and you pay with card then I need to see your ID, I don’t like it either but if you just show me your ID and the names match then we’re good. Hell if you’re nice and the names don’t match I’ll still accept it, it’s the people that don’t want to show their ID that make me suspicious and/or are the biggest fucking assholes we get. Today there was only one thankfully but she had a sob story about how she thought she left it at children’s hospital even though the closest one to us is a good 10 hours away. I told her I can’t accept it without the ID and guess who magically found her ID not even 10 seconds later. She wasn’t too much of a problem other than that but I’ve been at KFC since June and that’s just something that always irks me.

    We had this bitch that said her kid didn’t like his Gatorade so she wanted something else instead, at first I kinda chuckled and asked if they wanted water instead and they kept insisting they had to get capri sun or they’re calling my boss because they’re related and shit and at this point I couldn’t give a shit so I let my coworker Sarah deal with them. Probably the worst people we had all night tbh, and I’m pretty sure the kid didn’t care and they just wanted to be difficult. They ended up getting their capri sun, no straw of course, and when they sped off I yelled “BITCH” at them and I just really hope she heard. 

    A few cars after her we had a customer who had at least 11 different meals spread across 2 tickets with 9 drinks and when she got to the window we could see the car was packed with at least 7 kids in the backseat alone. The driver was under 21, I know because I had to ID her for the first order and she looked baked as fuck. I should mention we’re in Colorado so we get high people all the time which is whatever but when you’re behind the wheel high as fuck with a clown car full of kids, that just don’t seem right. Lenny wanted me to get her license plate so he could report her and he did, he went to the bathroom right after and called dispatch to tell them about potential child endangerment. They said they have a BOLO (Be On the Look Out) for her car now.

    I should mention my aunt is a manager and she was the manager for the night and I could write a book about the things she does wrong at work that irritate me but she’s the best night shift manager because she’s very relaxed. I have 2 other managers, one is a bitch and the other is nice but also takes her job seriously. My aunt just kinda doesn’t give a shit which is nice sometimes but when we have a line that wraps around the restaurant and she’s already taken 3 minutes packing one large coleslaw, I kinda get angry at her. I had a different aunt come through drive-thru and order from the passenger seat, never fucking do that by the way, and I didn’t recognize her until she got to the window. So I said on the headset, “Oh god I’m so embarrassed, that dumb bitch is my aunt” and my manager aunt says, “Who?” on the headset, and with no hesitation I said, “You”. She handed that joke to me on silver platter, Lenny nearly choked on his pizza because he was on his 30, and it was probably the best thing to come out of tonight.

    All in all, it was a shit night but it could’ve been shittier if I had a different manager so I’m not too mad I guess. It was a Friday night so I should’ve expected it but Fridays are also some of our slowest days sometimes. I have another night shift with Lenny and my aunt tomorrow so that’s nice. Before that I have to lend some Japanese learning books to an acquaintance, friend? I’m not too sure. I don’t know him that well and we’ve hung out in a group once or twice but he’ll talk to me in Facebook replies for hours on end. Kind of a strange relationship but I’m just happy to help. It’s already 2 a.m. and I still haven’t taken a shower so I think I’ll go do that and then pass out on the couch because my room is still a mess. I’ll see you tomorrow

[writingsofwinchesters]

tail lights in a hailstorm

One of my favorite things in my life currently is participating in my church’s high school youth group. For nearly five years, I’ve had the privilege of walking alongside students, watching them grow, learn, and connect with Christ. By grace alone, I get to be a part of a community that works hard to encourage,  to love, and build up these students as they progress through a really hard and transformative season.

It happens to be really freaking fun too.

Every year, the youth group goes on a summer trip. Each time, that week I get to spend in the wilderness is simultaneously the most exhausting and yet the most refreshing experience of my summer. It’s full of community, adventure, and heart work. During that week, I am certain, down in my bones, that this is what I was meant for. There is nothing like it.

For summer 2018, we traveled to a camp just outside of Centennial, Wyoming. Leaders were asked if they wanted to volunteer to drive and I jumped on the opportunity. I like driving and it seemed like a good chance to serve the students and my fellow leaders. I also wouldn’t have to jockey for a spot in the vans throughout the entire trip. I was assigned one of our three 15-passenger vans and we took off on our adventure.

Eight hours of interstate driving, a mini thunderstorm, and one missed turn later (completely my fault), we arrived at the camp in the Wyoming wilderness. The week did not disappoint.

The trip home was much more eventful than the trip out and seemed to take much longer. Instead of staying in our van order, there was a lot of mixing it up, with one of the drivers taking off in the front - so fast the other two of us lost track of him. Then, as we were driving back through western Nebraska, we drove right into a huge summer storm.

Now - I absolutely adore thunderstorms. Remember the storm that cancelled the first Husker football game last season? I was driving back home from Omaha as it was starting and I quite literally cackled the whole way because I couldn’t get over how fantastically gorgeous the clouds and the rain and the lightning were. The power behind a storm is so vividly breathtaking. I see God in them. I’m filled with awe.

So, at first, I was excited. Every chance I had I was gazing at the clouds and the sky. And, for awhile, it was beautiful. 

Then, the traffic slowed to a crawl and the hail started, so thick it blanketed the ground like snow. It mixed with the rain and pounded the windows. I cranked the wipers as high as they would go and gripped the steering wheel tightly, acutely aware that I had fifteen mamas’ babies in the car with me and I needed to get them home safe. A semi barreled down the left lane and threw such a huge and sudden wave of hail across the windshield, I nearly swore aloud. That would have gone over well in a van full of youth group kids.

The wind pushed the van tighter to the white line and I held my position at 10 and 2 and stared at the tail lights ahead of me. All I could think about was how thankful I was that I was not the one leading our little caravan and that I was directly behind the other van. I watched that van’s tail lights for indication - when they lit up, I braked, when they got farther away, I cautiously nudged the gas pedal. When I couldn’t see the white lines on either side, I matched my wheels up to those two little red bulbs.  

It was nearly an hour before we were out of the storm and parked at our lunch stop. I remember stepping out of the van with shaking legs and a pounding heart. I found the driver of that other van as quick as I could and told him, “Thank you so much for leading! I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t.”    

I can’t remember when I drew this connection. I don’t know if I was thinking of it while I was driving that day or if it came to me when I was listening to Fix My Eyes by Kings Kaleidoscope a few weeks later or God prompted me when studying His Word. But now, today, it is very clear what God was trying to teach me with that experience. 

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, 2 looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God."  -- Hebrews 12:1-2

Just like those tail lights were my guide during the storm, how much more so should Jesus be our focus in daily life? He can see much farther ahead than we can. He adores us and chose us to be His. He sacrificed everything for us, surely we can trust Him to lead us through the storms of life. He has proved over and over again that He can handle it.

I’ll admit the metaphor isn’t perfect. Jesus is not ahead in the distance, untouchable. We don’t have to wait until the end of the road to express our gratitude to Him. He is a personal God. He’s closer than the closest friend, sitting right next to us in the van. He is knowable and wants to know us. And we sure as heck aren’t driving our own life. If we’ve surrendered our lives to Him, He has the steering wheel, and he’s guiding our lives through the storm.

But He is God. And God is infinite. So maybe He’s both. Maybe He’s before us and beside us. Maybe He’s even more and He’s behind us too. So maybe it’s possible to keep our eyes fixed on the Jesus ahead of us, all while holding the hand of the Jesus beside us and remembering the faithfulness of the Jesus behind us.

There will be storms in life. I can promise that. There will be huge semi’s that come by and throw up sheet of hail with such unexpectedness that we react instinctively. Things will get hard and we will tire ourselves out thinking of all that we must do to keep the tires between the white lines and all that is at stake if we don’t. 

Dear friend, hasn’t Jesus made it simple for us? Hasn’t He taken the lead and asked us to follow? Don’t misunderstand me; simple and easy are not the same thing. We have one job, one task to remember - to follow Him - but that doesn’t mean that every day it’ll be easy to pick up our cross and walk. 

Grace upon grace, what does Jesus promise us? 

Perfect peace.

You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.

- Isaiah 26:3

 An intimate connection with Him. 

Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us.

- Psalm 62:8

Refinement. 

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.

- Philippians 1:6

Eternity. 

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.

- John 3:16

Yes, He is the first and the last. He is behind and before. He is God with us. Hallelujah!

It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.

- Deuteronomy 31:8

And to the angel of the church in Smyrna write: The words of the first and the last, who died and came to life.

- Revelation 2:8

Here’s the tricky part: how do we actually do this? How do we actually fix our eyes on Jesus daily?

Man, I was hoping you’d have the answer to that one. 

It’s hard. I definitely don’t have all the answers. I wish I could give you a three-step process that works all the time. But we’re fickle, fallible humans and I don’t think we’ll ever get it perfect on this side of life. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. So, here’s a few things that have been recommended to me and seem to help.

Connect with God consistently. Think of a time in your life when you felt so connected to God and the closest you’ve ever been to Him. Or even a specific moment. What were you doing? Who did you surround yourself with? What did your life look like that looks different now? If you aren’t sure, ask those you know connect with God frequently and ask how they do it. Then try it out for yourself. For me, it’s nature. I connect deeply with God through His creation, so I spend time in it and I do things to help it.

Think about how you use your free time. What do you do first? Get caught up on Instagram stories? Maybe try talking to God or spending time in His Word during those moments. There are a ton of free bible apps you can download to your phone. His Word can be just as accessible as your social media accounts. Build a discipline of going to Him first. (I’M REALLY BAD AT THIS.) I’m telling this to myself too. 

Put reminders of God everywhere. Physical ones. Sticky notes with encouraging verses on your computer at work or in the doorway as you leave home or on your mirror or in your car or on your fridge. Put them EVERYWHERE. You’ll see them all the time and Jesus will be on your mind that much more.

Focus takes effort and practice. But He is my goal. I want to be watching Him so closely that I imitate His every move. Thanks for joining me on this journey. What do you do to connect with God and keep your mind fixed on Him?

[harryandmolly]

i could write it better than you ever felt it - one

A/N: I’m dedicating this fic to the author of the first fics I fell in love with as a curious middle schooler on Quizilla, soxlongxjimmy. Thanks for the memories.

Warnings: Language, miscreants being miscreants

Word count: 3.2k

Val rolls over, blindly scrabbles for the cherry red Sidekick blaring “Miss Murder” under her tufted black PB Teen comforter.

“Raf Calling”

Val stifles a knowing smile, though she’s alone in her bedroom. She answers, lifts the phone to her ear.

“How much do you love me?” he asks, a self-deprecating chuckle in his voice.

Val giggles back. “Enough.”

+

Rafael and Valentina Moreno were born at 6:43 and 7:04 (respectively) on the morning of April 22, 1985. From then on, it was chaos.

Two was quite enough children for ambitious professors Miguel and Fernanda Moreno. They were scholars, children of knowledge, who wanted a small, quiet family. They envisioned docile walks on the beach, Saturday trips to museums, maybe the occasional University of Miami football game.

They got Raf and Val instead. The twins were at each other’s throats nearly from the time they were born – Miguel tells a story every holiday season of placing both babies in the same crib to bond when they were a few months old. The new parents turned around for a minute and looked back to see Val rolling on top of Raf trying to smush his face into the cushions.

From then on, separate cribs.

But the twins, despite their ongoing hostilities, couldn’t be separated. It was as though their energies thrived on one another. One summer when they were 12, Raf left for sleepaway soccer camp. A few days in, Val woke her mother up in the middle of the night in tears begging them to bring her brother home. He came back at the end of the summer and two days later she threw an ice cream cone in his face.

Miguel and Fernanda were faced with a new reality – noise. Their kids were loud before they even picked up their respective instruments. The Morenos thought music lessons would be a good outlet for their wild children, so they had them classically trained from a young age. Once again, their good intentions wrought chaos. Valentina was a menace on the drums – though a very talented, well trained menace. And Rafael was a gifted guitar player.

It wasn’t until they were 14 and started sharing practice space in the Morenos’ garage that they could be in the same room without ripping each other’s heads off.

And then, against all odds, they joined forces. The Moreno twins finally discovered they were stronger together than apart. That’s not to say they didn’t still fight like cats and dogs, but they loved each other just as viciously as they bickered. Miguel and Fernanda could live with that. They had to.

Streets of Gold was a stupid pet project, it wasn’t supposed to be anything. Until it was.

Val was original music buff of the family. She used to sit in her closet with the door shut and the lights off listening to her dad’s record collection. It made her feel cool, listening to old vinyl. But she didn’t really get it until she got around to hearing The Ramones’ “Rocket to Russia” for the first time. Everything changed then for the Morenos.

Raf was hesitant at first – could he really let himself like something Val discovered, something Val thought was cool? But he couldn’t hold out long. Because it was cool. It was really cool.

Valentina became the Encyclopedia Brown of pop-punk. You could name a song and she could tell you what band, what album, what year it dropped, whether or not it was a single, and what label released it. She was a goddamn savant. Raf started using her like she was a walking party trick with his friends, some of whom also started to think pop-punk was cool.

Streets of Gold started, as many shitty garage bands do, as a blink-182 cover band. They played birthday parties, then house parties, then veteran halls, then underground Miami clubs. They were signed by Stuck in the Suburbs Records in 2002 and struck out on their first supporting tour. They’ve barely been home since.

Everything changed once again for the Moreno family when Val took a step back. She loved the band, loved the music, even loved touring, but there was a piece of her that was more like her parents than she ever realized or wanted to admit. She craved learning and missed academia after she finished her GED. She secretly applied to the University of Miami and sought out her replacement for the band, gearing up for a fight.

Raf lost it, at first. They had the worst knock-down, drag-out sibling fight of their entire lives. It ended in tears with Raf holding Val against his chest as they sobbed. They started training her replacement Naveen the next day.

Among Val’s fondest memories of drumming in Streets of Gold are the two years she spent with the band on Warped Tour. Warped was every scene kid’s wet dream, every garage band’s Woodstock. It was the be all, end all of pop-punk music. Warped is a fickle mistress – it makes and it breaks, it gives and it takes and it’s not for the faint of heart.

They call it rock band summer camp, and it is. It’s day after day of heat and sweat and drugs and sex and music, so much fucking music. But the showers are scarce and sleeping in a van with five guys, driving through the night to reach the next stop, it wears on you.

But it’s all about the kids. They come in droves, self-professed outcasts in girls’ skinny jeans, hair Manic Panic-ed and razored past the point of recognition, the uniform of kids without a cause. They gather like the Island of Misfit Toys for a chance at community, to throw themselves into a world they recognize, a world they’ve created for themselves. It reflects them, it accepts them, it inspires them, and Warped Tour is where it truly comes alive.

The kids wait for hours in the heat, withstand insane conditions to see their favorite bands. They go hard, they leave it all out on the fields, in the amphitheaters, screaming their lungs out as thanks for giving them somewhere to belong. It’s a chorus of angst and otherness and, somehow, hope. It’s Valentina’s favorite song. And she misses it.

Raf dropped the hint two weeks ago that there might be a chance at return for Val. Things are different now – Streets of Gold is starting and finishing the 2007 Vans Warped Tour on the main Lucky Stage, a far cry from their humble beginnings playing to a handful or a dozen curious onlookers from Hot Topic Kevin Says. They have a bus now with a shower and actual air conditioning and, holy shit, they have actual bunks.

And their merch guy Jamie, Raf told her casually, has to step away from the tour due to a family financial situation. Can’t be avoided. They’re checking their network for replacements, but, if they can’t find someone in time, could he beg her to come along? One last summer on the Warped Tour before she leaves for the UK in the fall?

Val played it cool – “I’m exhausted,” she reminded him, “After everything this year…” (And she doesn’t need to elaborate, because he knows all too well) “And I just graduated…”

But the truth is, Val found herself wondering about it. She hasn’t been on tour in three full years. She’s gotten her fixes visiting their shows, bobbing her head from side stage singing the words she still writes for the band with her brother, but it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same.

After only a few days, Val wasn’t just wondering – she was hoping. She had it wrapped around her heart now, this idea of returning to something that always brought her hope and comfort when she needed it. And like she told Raf, after the year she’s had…

She got the call four days before the first stop in Pomona. Raf needed her. She’d better start packing.

She couldn’t wait for the summer at the Warped Tour, she remembers the first time that she saw him there.

+

“Oh, thank fucking Christ!”

Shawn rolls his eyes and throws the lurching white van into park. It scuttles to a stop.

“Shut the fuck up, dude,” Shawn mumbles, wrenching his rusty door open and stepping out onto the grass to survey the area.

Francis’s head pops up over the roof of the van wearing a disapproving glare.

“All in favor of banning Shawn from driving for the rest of the tour, say aye!” Francis crows.

A chorus of ayes fall out of the sliding doors of the 15-passenger van as they open and pour smelly 20-somethings out. Shawn sighs and plants his hands on his hips.

“I got us here an hour before we were supposed to be, I deserve credit for that,” he whines, sliding his Ray Bans up into his dark curls.

Francis looks unimpressed. “You nearly killed us all at least four times. You don’t get shit.”

“Maybe this was his strategy,” Bobby offers with an eyebrow lifted conspiratorially, “Maybe he pretends to be a shitty driver so he can get out of driving the van between stops.”

Shawn smirks. “I’ve been a shitty driver since I was 15. That’s a long con.”

“Alright, assholes, time to start unloading,” calls a voice from near the trunk. Shawn groans and licks his lips, flicking at the black enameled ring he got pierced there a couple months ago.

He ambles back to where the truck has pulled up beside their rickety van. Andrew climbs out and runs a hand through his hair. “Shawn, man, you’re fucking impossible to follow. You were doing 85 on the freeway, you know that?”

Shawn opens his mouth to defend himself when the rest of his band starts choking on laughter. He holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fuckers. Drive yourselves.”

Shawn turns and looks around at the Pomona Fairgrounds. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life. There are stages going up left and right, tents and skate ramps and those inflatable floating human-shaped things that flop around and wave at car dealerships. It’s mania, and he’s so fucking excited about it.

Warped Tour has always been the dream. It’s always been a reality just out of reach. Always a spectator, never the spectated.

He’s been nomadic for the past few years since he first picked up a guitar and started playing old The Starting Line and Jimmy Eat World covers. He’s been in at least eight different bands, all of which showed promise at the start and ended in various states of the decay of teenage boredom. No one wanted to go the distance with him, not until he met Francis, Bobby and Seth through friends of friends of friends. Then suddenly, Warped Tour wasn’t just within reaching distance, it was fucking happening.

Shawn’s a sentimental sap so he’s standing on the hill overlooking the manifestation of his dreams. Seth, the band’s fan-anointed “quiet one,” claps a hand on his shoulder.

“We fuckin’ made it, man,” he reminds Shawn breathlessly. Shawn chokes on an emotional inhale and nods.

They’ve gotten good at load-in now. Everyone has their assigned tasks and Andrew’s a seasoned enough tour manager to be able to wrangle them into efficiency. Or, near efficiency. They’re a little distracted today, overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all.

They’re quieter, too. They’ve felt big in their britches for awhile, having been invited out on tour supporting bands like Valencia, My American Heart and All Time Low. But this is a new ballgame. They’re very much little fish in a giant fucking pond, a very intimidating pond.

They stare at the buses of pop-punk legends as they wade past with amps and instruments and risers in hand, feeling like it’s the first day of kindergarten and the eighth graders are all settled in and looking cooler than anyone ever has ever. Shawn actually, embarrassingly enough, nods in reverence at Streets of Gold’s bus. He’s glad none of his band and crew notice and razz him for it.

Being new and not a huge crowd draw, they’re one of the first bands of the day on their designated Smartpunk stage. Shawn doesn’t so much mind playing Smartpunk. It’s a small stage but plenty of amazing bands have gotten started there. He’s just happy to be on the tour. And if they impress and end up drawing in some attention and wind up spending a couple of tour dates on Hurley.com or even, dare he dream it, the Hurley stage, he’ll be a happy kid.

But at 19, with his best friends at his side and their sophomore album release date coming up in only a month, Shawn feels like he’s at the edge of the world looking at the start of something he can’t quite make out yet, but it feels so fucking good.

+

Val is already sweating her balls off, no surprise there.

She’s had some merch girl experience, naturally, having been with the band since its infancy, a time where everyone wears a lot of hats. But now that Streets is a bona fide Warped Tour Band, a destination, a band people make the trip to see, it’s a new ballgame.

She unloads box after box of shirts, hats, hoodies, wristbands, CDs, booty shorts, whatever else they can hawk at an upcharge. Raf and Naveen eagerly help her and she suspects they’re trying to play nice because they know she didn’t have to come on tour and help them. Val doesn’t want to get used to it – in about a week, they’ll be a lot less eager to haul boxes around and will make themselves scarce.

As she’s setting up the tent above the table, she looks around with a smile.

Returning to Warped feels a little like coming home. It’s a dry, hot, smelly home with sun-scorched grass underfoot and an overabundance of men in women��s jeans but there’s just something about it—

“BABYYYYYY!” cries a voice that belongs to a woman who soon careens straight into Val’s side.

“Oh my fucking god!” Val squeals, throwing her arms around the violet haired cling on. She bounces back and forth as they laugh and babble incoherently.

Finally, she pulls away and Val holds her by the shoulders to look at her.

“Why, Bea Easton, look at you!” Val giggles.

Bea, all four-foot-eleven inches of her, strikes a pose complete with duck face and popped hips in her low-slung Bullhead skinnies. She breaks into a laugh, shaking her head.

“Miss me, Moreno?”

“So much that I’m back on tour with these hooligans again,” Val sighs, angling her head at her bus where her tourmates are arguing over the Xbox.

Bea chuckles. “Thank god. It was getting dull in the scene without you.”

Val shoots her a suspiciously amused glance. Bea makes an exasperated noise, throwing her hands up.

“Well the scene is never fucking dull, that’s kind of the point, but I missed you, kid! You’re not so easily replaced, you know.”

Val scrunches her face and pulls Bea into a proper hug, tucking her face into her freshly-dyed hair and rubbing her back. “Ditto, dude. College was cool but… I couldn’t really resist one last shot at all this.”

Bea stands back and loops her arm around Val’s waist as they observe. After a moment, Bea pinches Val’s side gently.

“Hey, how are you?”

Val’s body tightens instinctively. She knows Bea feels it. Bea only asked a question everyone’s been asking her for months. And Val’s still shit at pretending it doesn’t bug the fuck out of her.

“I’m fine. Really. I went to the doctor recently and he did some tests and confirmed that I’m human and not a big walking china doll.”

Bea’s bleached eyebrows lift as she smirks. “Point taken. Have you started checking out the talent, then?”

Val scoffs. “You and your locker room talk.”

“This is what equality looks like, bitch. But seriously, tell me that’s not half the reason you’re here. A little palette cleanser.”

Val runs her tongue across her lower lip. Bea knows her oh so well.

She elbows Bea gently. “Stop that, I already have a reputation,” she hisses teasingly.

“Mmm, that’s right,” Bea replies, playing along, “The biggest slut in the scene is back on Warped Tour. Better start lining up for a taste.”

Val laughs heartily, shaking her head. “I swear to god, Bea, you—”

She stops dead in her sentence, words have failed her. Her brain fritzes out. She stares straight ahead, exhales in a loud puff. Bea notices and turns to look at what, or who, Val has spotted.

He’s tall. That’s probably the first thing anybody ever notices about him. He’s really fucking tall. He’s also not as scrawny as the rest of the twiggy white boys that populate the scene these days. He’s built – broad in the shoulders and the thighs. He’s wearing the uniform black skinnies, though, so he’s probably a band member rather than a volunteer. And he’s got the presence, somehow, of a frontman. Maybe it’s because Val’s pretty well versed in scene guys, but she can just tell he’s a lead singer.

His dark curls are tucked under a backwards Blue Jays hat and his eyes are unreadable under black Wayfarers. His facial structure is sinfully architected, marred only by the black lip ring that’s pierced through his full lower lip.

His hands are tucked in the pockets of his impossibly tight jeans as he cruises easily on a skateboard through hordes of bands and crew prepping for the day. He seems unbothered by the hard work going on around him, content to observe and take it all in. It gives him an ethereal sort of glow, that he’s untouched by reality.

Val swallows like a fucking cartoon character and watches his mighty leg strike the ground, black leather high top Chucks kicking up a cloud of fairground dust as he propels himself past the tent without a glance. She feels like a ninth grader who’s caught her first glance at the senior quarterback. She sniffs. It’s been a while since she’s felt like that at all.

Bea elbows her again. “Holy damn.”

“Say it again, sister,” Val chuckles, watching the back pockets of his jeans stretch over his very fine ass as he launches himself down the sidewalk, weaving and bobbing through the crowd.

“HOLY DAMN!” Bea crows, throwing an arm around Val’s shoulders and shaking her. Val sniggers and peels her eyes away, nibbling on her pillowy lower lip.

“I’ll do some recon, find out who he is,” Bea offers, smirking. Val isn’t about to turn that down. Bea’s the most well-connected merch girl on the tour, being as seasoned as she is, having toured with New Found Glory since ’97. She nods her thanks and waves goodbye as Bea rushes off to check on the status of her own merch tent.

Val turns back to her table, fumbling through price tags and pushpins. Her mind is elsewhere. Specifically, it’s somewhere in the back pocket of that skateboarding guy. She can smell trouble on him from here.

She doesn’t mind. She could use a little trouble.

Boys, raise your glasses/Girls, shake those, go, go, go/We're the party, you're the people/Let's make this night a classic

Taglist: I literally don’t know who my taglist is anymore so lmk if you want to be added but for now here @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @stillinskislydia @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn​ @alone-in-madness​ @alone-in-madness @singanddreamanyway @accioalena

[sharperthewriter]

Chapter 12 of SFV

Chapter 12 - Day 1: Potty Emergency

(Nov. 19, 2:30pm)

After the near-disaster with the keys at the Dinoco, the Stoppable-mobile continued on Interstate 76. It crossed the Colorado-Nebraska border without any further issues. Interstate 76 very quickly turned into Interstate 80.

Ron was still driving the vehicle but was eating nachos as well from the lap. He got them from a Dinoco in Julesburg, Colorado. Kim, in the meantime, was staring out into the open fields of the landscape. She allowed the sole overalls strap to slip off her shoulder and the bib to go down. Rufus was also eating his order of nachos too to tide the both of them until they got to Bueno Nacho in Ogallala, Nebraska. Mary and Canna were asleep in the pop-up camper. They too pulled down the sole straps of their one-strap overalls while counting their Z's. It felt like there weren't going to be any other interruptions.

Then Justin said from the second row, "I have to go tee-tee."

"Didn't you already go to the bathroom earlier?" Kim asked.

"Nope!" Justin replied while playing with Sabersaurus. The 2-foot tall monster truck was his most favorite toy...and his most preferred weapon of destruction to use against smaller toy cars.

Ron sighed, "Fine, we'll stop at...what's the next exit, KS?"

"Big Springs, according to Gipsi." Kim said, referring to the GPS.

"Alright, we'll take the onramp!"

But as he did so, the van went off the onramp into the grass! Ron was holding one of his hands on the wheel and the Nachos in the other. The van and trailer was chewing up grass and dirt. This stirred Mary and Canna awake from their sleep.

Kim was yelling in Ron's ear. "Ron! Get onto the ramp!"

"I'm trying, KS!"

Luckily, he got back onto NE-25B and drove over the overpass to get to the nearest Dinoco. Also luckily for him, no damage resulted to the vehicle.

"See? The Ronman's got everything under control."

Then the van got onto the grass again and got to the Dinoco, again with no damage except for the hot convenience store nacho cheese sauce ended up onto Ron's pants.

"OWWWW! HOT! HOT! HOT!"

The van swerved around and scraped the entrance sign, causing damage to the paint on the front passenger fender side.

"Ron! Be careful!" Kim exclaimed, holding on the door handle. Rufus, meanwhile

Ron slammed onto the brakes to make the vehicle come to a complete stop. In the trailer, Mary and Cana stumbled onto their feet

"See, KS? Everything is under complete control!" Ron said with confidence. "Now, let's back this baby up in a nice parking space."

He switched the car to reverse.

"I really have to go!" Justin jumped out of his seat in front of his father with an ugent dance for how badly he need to pee.

"Wha–?" Ron was startled. Reflexively he stepped on the pedal. Unfortunately it was the gas instead of the brake

He rear-ended a lamp-post, causing a medium-sized dent to the trailer. This jolted Canna and Mary.

"Whoa! What just happened?" Mary asked.

"Dunno...thought we ran into something." Canna said as she looked out the window. As it turned out, the trailer was indeed damaged.

"Uhhh...ooops?"

"Yes...oops was the word you're looking for, Ron!" Kim groaned while pulling up the strap of the overalls to prevent them from falling off her. "Now let's get Justin to the restroom!"

"What about Mary and Canna?" Ron asked.

"I'll ask if tehy want to use the restroom!"

She went to the pop-up camper and knocked on the door.

"You two OK?" Kim asked about their well-being.

"We're fine, Kim." Mary said while pulling up the sole strap of her overalls. Canna did the same as well.

"Do you two wanna use the restroom?" Kim questioned. "We're at a gas station in Big Springs, Nebraska."

"I am, but Canna isn't." Mary replied.

"Well, then, now's the time to use it!" Kim said, "We won't be here for long."

Mary headed out the camper to try and use the women's restroom.

(2 minutes later)

"What?! Out of order ?!" Kim exclaimed in disbelief.

Kim and Ron were at the restrooms where, apparently, the men's restroom was out of order.

"You really have got to be kidding me." Ron whined.

He tried to suggest an alternative, "Why not let him use the women's bathroom?"

"Sorry, Ron! I'd so rather not run the risk of embarrassing Justin like that" Kim said, shooting down the idea.

Mary approached Kim and said, "Yeah...women's restroom is out of commission as well."

"Great...what are the odds?" Kim muttered.

"Are there any cities between here and Ogallaga?" Ron asked.

Kim got her smartphone out and said, "There's a gas station in Brule, about 10 miles from here!"

"Then that's where we're going to go next." Ron said.

So the Stoppable parents and Justin headed back to the vehicle, Mary got back in the camper, and got back onto the interstate.

(15 minutes later)

When they got to the Brule, NE exit, Ron took a left and went to the gas station.

"Alright, we're going to get in, let Justin do his number one, and get out!" Ron explained. "My stomach is starting to eat itself!"

Rufus agreed, nodding his pink head.

"Okay, Ron." Kim replied . "I'll remain in the car with Alexa."

Mary, meanwhile, jumped out of the camper to head to the women's restroom.

Ron went with Justin to the restroom to take care of his 'business'.

After a few minutes, the two came back.

"So...did he go?" Kim asked.

"He actually used the bushes instead." Ron replied, "Door was locked."

"At least he went." Kim sighed. "Let's get to the BN in Ogallaga!"

"Wait for me!" Mary insisted. She didn't change out of her one-strap overalls and headed back into the slightly-damaged camper.

"Righty on, KS!" Ron said before turning to Justin, "Come on, sport! Let's get back in with your sister!"

Justin got back in and once he was in his car seat, Ron started up the van. As he pulled out, however, he bumped the van into one of the supports for the sign, causing damage to the bumper cover and a part of the grill.

Kim muttered, Next time when we go on vacation, I'm going to drive the full way.

"I'm sorry! I'm totally sorry about that!" Ron exclaimed as he drove off with the Stoppable family.

(5 more minutes later)

"Justin, why did you wait so long?" Ron asked, "Why didn't you go at the gas station?"

"I didn't have to go then." Justin replied as the van was continuing down I-80.

"You could've told your father earlier!" Kim exclaimed. "Anywho, this should be the exit of Ogallaga where BN is at."

The van turned into the exit of Ogallaga, NE and, eventually into the parking lot of Bueno Nacho.

"Now...where to find an empty parking space..." Ron wondered, scanning his eyes throughout the lot. But almost all of the lot was full...except for one space.

"Aha! Here it is!"

"Ron, new flash!" Kim exclaimed, pointing to the width of the space. "Our van and camper is not going to fit into that space!"

"Watch the master, KS! And be amazed at my mad parking skills that I learned from Mr. Barkin's course!" Ron grinned as he pulled into the space. But, as Kim warned him, there was no space on the drivers side and barely enough space on the passenger side. Even worse was that they were scraping up against the paint of a brand-new 2019 SUV and it destroyed the drivers side mirror as well.

"Okay...and we're parked!" Ron said as he turned off the ignition. "Alright, everyone out the passenger side!"

Kim squeezed her way out of the passenger side of the van and again knocked on the camper door.

"Do you two want anything at all from Bueno Nacho?" she asked.

"They still have the veggie tacos there?" Mary questioned on the food, "Remember that we are die-hard vegans, Kim. Nothing from animals!"

"Okay...four veggie tacos it is for the both of you. Are you going to come in with us or remain in the camper?" Kim asked once she confirmed their order.

"We're remaining in the camper." Canna replied firmly and using spicier language, "There's no way in fucking hell that we're going in that shitty slaughterhouse!"

"Geez!" Kim replied with a scowl on her face, "You better watch the language of yours, ESPECIALLY around our kids!"

"Fine...boss lady!" Canna snarked, rolling her eyes.

Ron and the kids all got out on the passenger side and the Stoppable family squeezed in enough so that they finally reached the Bueno Nacho.

[sunbeamsandmoonrays]

@themiddleliddle so looking back this whole thing is full of the most surreal yet terrifying moments; it honestly feels like a weird dream (but it wasn’t). TLDR: my grandma and I were, for lack of a better phrase, chased by a tornado in our drive to her house when I was in middle school.

Here’s the full story:

I’m in middle school. It’s the last class of the day. We’re doing standardized test prep. The overhead intercom starts going off dismissing specific students (usually, when one kid is being picked up early, the office will page the classroom the student is in; because so many kids were being called, the office had to do it over the entire school PA system). We could hear the phone ringing off the hook in the background. We’re all weirded out and a little scared because we have no idea what’s happening (this is a year or two before smart phones, so we can’t look it up). Anyways, I get called, so I get my stuff and head outside to wait for my ride.

I see a wall cloud for the first time. It’s literally black. There’s an occasional pulse of lightning, but no thunder. There is no wind whatsoever. I’m beyond creeped out. We’re immediately ushered back inside because there’s an official tornado warning.

My grandma arrives to pick me up. They let us go. As we’re walking to her van, I see the funnel cloud. We stand in awe for a few moments and watch as the funnel goes down, up, down and back up again. My grandma deems it safe (lol) and we get in her van to leave the school.

By the time we pull out and are stopped at a traffic light, the tornado has touched down and seems to be chilling right in front of us (it’s technically about 15 minutes away at this point). We can’t go anywhere, because the idiot in the car in front of us is still obeying traffic laws and won’t turn left on the red light. Grandma calls my uncle (who lives by my middle school) to warn him about the tornado.

The light turns green. We turn onto the highway, and that’s when the tornado moves, too. I’m able to see it out the passenger window. Grandma tells me to keep an eye on it as she drives. The tornado stays beside us for a while, but it eventually falls back, does this sort of s curve, then it moves right behind us on the highway. We’re coming up on another traffic light (at a much busier intersection). The light is red. I scream at the light to turn green and it does (thank God). We barrel on through. The tornado is about 10 seconds behind us*.

We next cut through a neighborhood. Grandma is asking me where the tornado is. I tell her I can’t see it anymore. All I can see are how the wind is blowing through the trees like crazy. I think Grandma is able to locate the tornado with her rear view mirror. She calls my dad to warn him (and to tell him we’re fine haha).

We’re now out of that neighborhood and on another street. The tornado is still behind us, hitting the places we’ve just driven by. It veers off to our left at some point. When we reach our last intersection, we see the tornado cross the same road on our left. We call Da (my grandpa) and tell him how close the storm is to the house.

We finally reach my grandma’s house. My grandma calls my mom this time to tell her we’re okay (I don’t think my screaming in the background helped matters lmao). The tornado is still to our left, and it seems so close. In actuality, it’s moving farther away (probably about 40 seconds away), but I don’t stay in the van to see.

Aaaaand, that’s how I survived a tornado! It takes my mom hours to pick me up, because all the ways to get there have been blocked off save one (and that route has live power lines on the road). While my grandparents’ house doesn’t have power and won’t have power for a few more days, our house 10 minutes away is fine surprisingly.

*I’m getting that info from a cop’s dashcam video (he was on the highway with us). He turned right at the intersection (while we went straight), did a u-turn to go back to the intersection, did another u-turn when he sees the tornado right there, then went back again after waiting for a bit for the storm to pass.