#ask my dad if we can get a yard freezer until new years

[sunnyuto]

Every so often my family gets to Reminiscing™ and pulls out some or all of the following:

- the time my sister got stuck head first upside down in her foot board in the middle of the night and, being a toddler with a minimal grasp on the English language, was trapped yelling “me stuck! me stuck!” until my parents came to rescue her

- the time my mother was helping me with homework while she had a headache and told my sister that if she didn’t quiet down, she would throw her in a snow bank. My sister, being a six year old, didn’t quiet down, so mom got up, carried her outside, flipped her over, held her by the ankles, and dipped her (giggling uproariously, I should note) into a half melted (March in New England) snowbank.

- the time we were doing random math problems at the dinner table, my father asked my sister how long a yard was, and she responded, SO confidently, “which one, front or back?”

- the time my sister was being a pain in my ass, so I attempted to lock her out of my room using a key not meant for my door. Which worked! Except it would not then unlock the door, so my dad had to come in my room through the window and take the door off the hinges to get me out. I am probably the only person to have ever lost their bedroom door lock for legitimate reasons.

- the time my sister got her giant head stuck in the rungs on the side of the stairs and had to sit there looking like a mounted deer head until she could be rescued

- the time my sister got her foot stuck in one of the rungs on the back of our kitchen chairs and we almost had to call the fire department to get her out because our parents weren’t gonna be home for hours

- the time my sister climbed on the stove to reach the cabinets above the stove, pulled down the entire stove hood, and somehow Didn’t get in trouble for it????

- any of the various times that my sister would get angry and put herself in time out on top of either the dryer or the chest freezer for “troll time” until she got more hungry than angry and would come back upstairs

- the time that little bitch BIT me and I was the one that got in trouble

Can you tell which one of us is the younger sibling?

Bonus: the time I was dying in the hospital and my family decided to sneak in my 90 year old great grandmother, two giant pumpkins, and enough KFC to feed twenty people

Tell me about a joke that you and your family absolutely lose your shit over that other people would not get.

Tell me about the very unique way you pick on each other.

Or tell me about a pop culture reference your family will never let die and you’ve never heard any other family use it.

*chin on hands* I just love hearing these stories. (I’m obsessed with little loser microcultures like families and very niche fandoms) So lay it on me.

[ninzied]

things you said when you were crying

for @fortysevenswrites. [ao3]

The first time Frank brings Karen over to the Liebermans’ for Friday night dinner, he could swear David’s eyes almost pop out of his goddamn skull. Sarah is more discreet – if you can call that discreet when she pours out twice as much wine for Frank and Karen, while leaving a more modest-sized glass for herself.

The kids, at least, act more normal about it.

Of course, there’s nothing normal, exactly, about how Frank had come into their lives. But in the last few months since he started coming over with some regularity, they’ve fallen into a routine that feels like the closest to normal – the closest to family – that Frank’s ever going to get.

And then, Karen.

He doesn’t know what he and Karen are. All he knows is what Karen means to him, and for now, that’s enough. The last thing he wants is to fuck it all up. There’s no rush – only that sensation of the floor bottoming out when she looks at him a certain way, or that slip of warmth in his chest when he says something that makes her laugh.

The Liebermans let him off the hook for a while. He doesn’t offer them any status updates, and they don’t pry either – much.

“Listen. Frank,” David says to him one Friday, as they’re unloading the dishwasher. Karen and Sarah are upstairs with the kids, picking out the evening’s activities. “As great as we are at board games, you know this doesn’t count as a double date until you ask her out on like a regular date, right?”

Frank picks up a particularly sharp-looking knife and makes a point of drying the edge. “You want to run that by me again?”

“Nope,” says David. “Not at all.”

The kids are rightfully curious about her, but seem satisfied enough when Frank first introduces her to them as “just an old friend of your Uncle Pete’s.”

Leo ends up being especially impressed with Karen’s board game prowess.

“Got a lot of practice growing up,” Karen explains to her over Risk one night. “I used to play with my younger brother too, just like you.”

“Cool,” beams Leo. “So how old’s your—”

But Frank clears his throat, and says something about ice cream if they want to take a peek in the freezer. They’re bouncing off into the kitchen faster than he can say mint chocolate chip, and he squeezes Karen’s arm for a second before getting up to join them.

Zach, on his part, seems to go selectively mute whenever Karen’s around. He gets more agitated than usual if a game isn’t going his way, and turns fire engine red whenever Karen offers some kind words of encouragement.

Zach, it appears, has a crush.

“Good,” is all Sarah has to say when Frank mentions his theory to her. “You could use the competition.”

“Get out of here,” he scowls, and doesn’t make the mistake of bringing it up again.

…

But it turns out Zach’s not the one in this family that Frank should’ve been watching out for.

It’s early June, just after school’s let out for the summer. David and Sarah have been making threats about moving their Friday night dinners down to the beach.

“I don’t do the beach,” says Frank.

“What Frank means,” Karen cuts smoothly in, “is that he only owns things that come in black hoodie sizes.”

“Easy enough to fix,” says Sarah, looking sly.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Christ,” mutters Frank, just as Leo’s coming into the kitchen. “Hey, sweetheart. Want to go outside for a bit?”

“Sure!” says Leo, and runs to grab a ball.

Zach’s at some all boys’ camp for the week, so it’s just him and Leo in the front yard, kicking a soccer ball back and forth to each other. It’s not really his thing; he’d grown up with a football practically in his hands at all times, but Leo’s trying out for the team, she tells him, so he’s game for whatever.

As they’re kicking the ball around, she tells him about school, how her favorite classes had gone, what she’s looking forward to with starting a new grade in the fall.

She’s really come into her own this year, he thinks. She’s fierce, and feisty, and it’s maybe more than a little bit terrifying to him, just how much she’s grown.

He can’t look at her these days without thinking of Lisa, and how she would’ve been at this age. But it’s a welcome kind of pain, more of a tender ache in his chest than the thousand-pound weight that he’d gotten so used to carrying alone.

Now, he has the Liebermans. Now he has Karen, and—

Leo’s making a run for the ball when she steps wrong on her ankle – out of the corner of his eye, he sees it twist unnaturally, and then she’s going down with a cry, and Frank’s heart just about stops right there.

He’s by her side in half a second. There’s a rock in the grass that must have tripped up her footing, and he tosses it out of the way before reaching gently down for her ankle.

“It’s okay, shh, shh, shhh. Hey.”

There are actual fucking tears in her eyes, and Frank cannot handle seeing her in any kind of pain. If that rock had been human, he would’ve skinned the thing alive by now.

“It – really – hurts,” she hiccups.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

He carefully examines her ankle.

“Listen, you’re gonna be just fine, all right? Nothing’s broken – it looks like a small sprain. We’ll get some ice on it, once we’re back inside.”

He’s crouched down next to her, pulse still hammering up in his throat somewhere. He’s about to ask her if she wants to try putting some weight on it when he notices her looking up at him shrewdly.

He also notices that she’s no longer crying.

“While I have you here,” she says, in a very different tone, “I have a few questions for you.”

“Shoot,” says Frank, rocking back on his heels and trying to decide whether to laugh or shake his head and sigh. He’s probably going to regret this.

“So, you and your friend. Karen.”

Yeah, he’s definitely going to regret this.

“Are you two, like…hanging out?”

He scrubs a hand over his face and says, “Don’t know what you mean by that.”

“I’m fourteen, not four. I’m not stupid. I know what it looks like when two people—”

“Whoa, okay, okay,” says Frank. He stoops down lower so that they’re level with each other. “Don’t say anything that’s gonna make it hard for me to look your mom in the eye later.”

“Fair enough,” says Leo. Then, after a moment, “So if you’re not…hanging out, then what are you doing?”

Frank lets out a sigh. “Your mom and dad put you up to this?”

“Nope,” says Leo, looking smug. “They’d only wish they had.”

“Yeah, you got that right.”

Leo stretches her legs and gives an experimental roll of her injured ankle. “Just suck it up and buy a swimming suit, okay? It’s not that hard.”

“That so?” Frank muses. “Why does it matter so much to you, anyway?”

Leo shrugs. “When I grow up, I want to be just like Karen.”

“Yeah? I don’t blame you, kid.”

“And I want to be loved the way Dad loves Mom. Or the way that you…well, you know what I’m going to say.”

Frank pulls her into a hug, kissing the top of her head as she snuggles into him for a moment. “You will be, sweetheart. You will.” He ruffles her hair before pulling away. “So it was that obvious, huh.”

“Yep,” says Leo, matter-of-factly. “Well. Except to Zach. You should probably break the news to him, after.”

Frank glances up toward the house, and tries to imagine walking back in there, facing Karen like nothing has changed. For all the Liebermans’ endeavoring, it’s their fourteen-year-old daughter who’s going to be the one that refuses to let him off the hook.

“All right,” he says. “You ready?”

“Are you?”

“Smartass,” says Frank. “Don’t tell your parents I said that.”

Leo laughs. He helps her stand, and she puts a foot gingerly into the grass. “Oh, it’s totally fine now,” she says, and Frank shakes his head, retrieving the ball on their way back inside.

Leo goes to help her mom in the kitchen as Karen walks up to Frank with two cold beers in hand.

“Hey,” he says lowly.

Karen gives him a bemused sort of smile. “…Hey,” she says back. “Drink?”

Frank takes the bottle, just to have something to do with his hands. “Look, I was thinking about the, uh – the beach.”

She’s shaking her head. “Frank, it’s fine. I was only teasing earlier. If you don’t want to go—”

“Actually,” he says, “I was thinking maybe we could. Go. Just the two of us.”

Karen blinks at him, disbelieving. “You’re serious.” Her smile is slow-forming. A sunrise. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Frank feels his heart back up in his throat, for entirely different reasons this time. “Okay.” He holds her gaze a moment longer, and realizes he can’t stop smiling either.

Somewhere, there’s the sound of the table getting readied for dinner, and Karen touches his arm before going to help Sarah set up.

Leo catches his eye from across the kitchen and gives him a double thumbs up. She’s grinning from ear to ear, but schools her features into something more neutral as David walks in with a fresh plate of steaks off the grill.

“Here, Dad,” she says. “Let me get that for you, too.”

Jesus.

“Thanks, hon,” says David, none the wiser.

Frank takes a swig of his beer and goes to help man the grill for a while, wondering how to break the news to the Liebermans that they’ve been raising no less than a teenage assassin in their goddamn home.

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

Pleasant Surprise

Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: fluff

A/N: commission @crystalizedcaramel

Summary: You take Steve to meet the family, except you have a big secret to share.

The house was a warm blue with white trimming, a large front yard that was protected by a chain link fence; a plastic kiddie pool sat in the center of the grass. You parked the car in front of the house and turned off the engine, glancing over to the passenger. Steve looked relaxed in jeans and dark blue button up he was wearing; his beard was getting long and it suited him. He was handsome in a way that made a person nervous and it was true, the butterflies had not left the pit of your stomach since the moment the two of you met. Clint Barton had been an old family friend and when the Avenger’s were looking to recruit some new blood, you were his first call.

“Stop staring,” he joked. He unlocked the doors on his side and asked if you were ready to go inside. “We don’t want the party to start without us.”

If only he knew what he was in for, it would be the first time he would be meeting your family – a very loud family that you kept at arm’s length, the main reason being their own personal safety and well, they were loud people.

“I’m just nervous, are you sure you want to go in?”

He laughed and said yes. “Besides, don’t you think I should meet the family of the woman I plan to marry one day?”

“Right, one day,” you hummed out. Growing up, you were raised in a home where the door was always open to all but you were afraid it would be too much for Steve and there was also a major secret you were keeping from him that made the thought of him bringing up marriage a tad bit scary. Of course, it wasn’t the first time, he had made it very clear, six months into your relationship that he planned on spending the rest of his life with you – it was that easy, the two of you. He was the one you wanted.

So, it made sense to introduce him, finally, to your family but it was still nerve-wracking.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

Steve smiled and grabbed the gift bag from the back seat and got out of the car. He jogged around the car to the driver’s door and opened it for you. He took your hand and told you to not be nervous, joking that it seemed like you were the one meeting the family for the first time. You laughed and got out of the car, the two of you headed towards the house and with each step it seemed a heart attack would take you out. Standing at the door, Steve nudged you and smiled.

“Come on, ring the doorbell.”

“No one ever rings the doorbell here,” you explained. He grinned and watched with amusement as you opened the door, pulling him along. Calling out, you gripped Steve’s hand tight and watched as he closed the door behind him. The interior of the home was cozy, a large sofa in the living room where the walls were decorated with photos of the family. “Anyone alive?”

It was your dad who came out of the kitchen, beer in hand accompanied by a wide smile. “There’s my girl.”

He hugged you tight and shook Steve’s hand when you introduced him – happy that your dad was the first to meet Steve, since he was the quieter one of the bunch. The two shook hands and when your dad offered him a beer, he took hold of Steve by the shoulder and walked him to the kitchen, leaving you to trail behind them.

“Where’s Mom?”

“She went to the store with the Parker, we needed more ice,” he said, closing the fridge. He handed a beer to Steve and asked if he liked ribs.

“Yes, sir. I can eat a whole rack and still be hungry.”

Your dad grinned. “My kind of man let me go show you the garage. Something tells me you’re the type man who appreciates a good motorcycle.”

Steve’s eyes lit up and you laughed. “Go on, you know you want to.”

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, handing over the gift. You watched as the two men disappeared out of the kitchen just as the front door opened. Seconds later, as the garage hall door opened and closed, small footstep danced across the hardwood floor. You rushed out of the kitchen and nearly bumped into the three-year-old, his little arms wrapped around your legs. Kneeling, you scooped the boy into your arms and kissed him on the cheek.

“Parker,” you cooed, squeezing him tight as you mother walked in with a bag of groceries. She walked over and kissed your cheek. “Did he give you any trouble at the store?”

“Always,” she lied. “So, where’s the stud?”

“Really, Mom,” you whined, shifting Parker from one arm to the other. You reminded her Steve was a person and not a piece of meat. Rolling her eyes playfully, she asked if he had brought his Captain America suit and you scolded her. “Listen, can you dial down the sexual exploitation for the day? I don’t need you to scare him away, he’s going to meet you guys for the first time. Not to mention he’s finding out about Parker – I mean, what the heck do I tell him?”

Your mom shrugged and pulled out the bag of ice, walking it over to the freezer. “Mr. America, guess what? I’ve been harboring the fact that I have a three-year-old from you for nearly a year now, even though both my parents advised against it. But what do they know?”

Laughing, you walked over to her and pulled her into a hug, which Parker joined by throwing an arm around her neck. “Family hug for the birthday girl, doesn’t grandma look really young?”

“Who looks young?’

The three of you looked over to see your dad and Steve walking into the kitchen, still sporting beers. Your heart dropped when Steve’s eyes went to the little boy in your arms – this was the moment you had been dreading, afraid Steve was going to be angry at you for hiding Parker all this time. But you had to make him understand it was all for Parker’s safety – you kept him a secret, hell, you kept your whole family a secret from mostly everyone since you started working for the Avengers. Clint understood and had helped you keep it on lock down, but even he advised to tell Steve when things had gotten serious between the two of you.

“Steve,” you said slowly, looking to your mom for comfort. She smiled and nodded, motion for you to go on. “I -I want you to meet my mom and Parker, he’s my son. I have a son…”

The kitchen fell silent for a moment, your dad stood there with his beer and your mom grabbed Parker from your arms, setting the boy down. Steve, he just stood in what seemed like shock for a moment until he kneeled and opened his arms up.

“Parker, buddy!”

“Steeeve!”

Your eyes widen in disbelief as your son ran into Steve’s arm and started talking about playing baseball, your parents laughing their heads off as you tried to understand what the hell was going on.

“What the hell is going on.”

“Language,” Steve teased, standing back up with Parker clinging to his shoulder. He smiled at you and shrugged. “I guess we both can keep secrets.”

“Actually, we all can,” your mom mused. You watched as she walked over to Steve, who gave her a side hug before congratulating you on another birthday, asking if she had gotten the flowers, he had sent to her office. “I did, you’re such a sweetheart.”

“So, let me get this straight,” you said, talking over Steve and your mom. “You all have met before?”

Steve, who looked a bit guilty left your mom’s side and came over to you, kissing you lightly on the forehead. Parker copied him and you laughed, taking him from your boyfriend.

“It happened two months ago,” he admitted, explaining that he wanted to ask your parents for your hand in marriage and had to do some research, and pulling from a certain archer. “Don’t be mad at Clint, he was just helping me out. I- I just wanted to meet your folks, I wanted to do things right. I have to admit I was surprised when they introduced me to Parker.”

You couldn’t be mad, hell, this was a win situation – all the nerves and anticipation of Steve meeting the family was washed away.

“I’m going to be honest though, you told me your family was loud…”

“I would be offended if it wasn’t true,” your mom said. “Just wait until the rest of my children come, your future wife here is one of the quietest in the bunch.”

Steve looked at you for confirmation and you nodded. “My sisters are notoriously loud, they once got us kicked out of a restaurant.”

Everyone laughed, their laughs fading when Parker asked Steve to go out with him to play baseball. Steve’s blue eyes softened, and he smiled at the little boy, and you saw it then, the love in his eyes as he nodded. It was in that moment, you knew, when Steve decided to get down on one knee, be it today, tomorrow, or ten years from now,  to ask you to marry him, it would be yes – a thousand times, yes.

[lemonlushff-iy]

Yeah...I suck at this. Swear it’s the last one till March 14. Part two was too gut punchy to just leave it there. 

Fic inspired by @clearwillow​‘s “New Moon Ride”

Read Part One of One Last Ride here.

Read Part Two of One Last Ride here.

One Last Ride: Part Three

His parent's house was just as she remembered it. 

It was a quaint, two story farmhouse with white siding and a wrap around porch. His grandfather and built it years ago, and it had been passed down to their only child when he passed - Inuyasha's father, Touga. 

Kagome hadn't been well acquainted with his grandfather at the time - she had only been eight when he passed - but she had remembered seeing Inuyasha when he came to visit him before they had moved in.

He was the cute little half demon boy that would play in the creek running from behind his house to behind their house because he had wandered too far from his grandparent's land. Eventually, when they moved in, he became the cute little half demon boy who would climb their tree and throw rocks at her window to get her to come outside and play. The cute little half demon boy who fell out of that same tree once and landed on his arm the wrong way and broke it.

She remembered that day well. He picked out a red cast and was so downtrodden...she made her dad drive her over and brought him the last of the ice cream from their freezer. They sat on his porch, splitting it from the same, waxy paper box while their parents sat inside, drinking decaf coffee and talking. She could remember how the setting sun washed over them, making his gold eyes shimmer as she had the honor of being the first person to write on his cast.

And then…

Then she had given him his first kiss. It was only on the cheek...but the look on his face…

That had sealed their fate together.

"It hasn't changed," she commented as they got closer to the house.

"Don't tell Ma that," he snorted. "She had us out here a few weeks back repaintin' the whole damn thing."

"Is that why it looks so clean?" she joked, but he didn't reply. "Well...you did a lovely job."

"Thanks," he whispered, and she felt him pull her closer as if forgetting himself for a moment as he guided Bessie over to the porch. They came to a stop, and she waited for him to move, but he didn't.

"Inuyasha?" she breathed, silently asking him what was going on as his fingers flexed against her waist.

"I...I know it'll be hard," he began, swallowing, "but let's try 'n be civil when we go in. Please? For Ma?"

"Of course," she whispered, turning around to look at him. He looked so...sad and shattered, like that little boy who fell out of the tree and broke his arm. Her heart ached to comfort him and kiss away his tears...but she couldn't.

That wasn't them anymore.

"You…" he began, his eyes landing on her lips before he shook his head.

"What?" she pressed.

"You still smell good," he admitted, and she felt herself soften. She knew how big that had always been for him. Dog demons had such sensitive noses...and even though he was only half human, he hadn't been an exception to the rule. "It...it would be so much easier if I didn't…" he sighed, dropping his head for a moment. Finally, having composed himself, he let go of her, swinging his leg around to dismount before reluctantly offering her a hand.

She took it and ignored the way her body still sung at his touch, accepting his help to step down from the mare.

"Why don't you go on in?" he encouraged once she had her feet on solid ground. "Ma will kill me if I don't wash up a bit first."

"Ok," she nodded, smiling. It was nice to know that she hadn't changed either. "Do you want some help," she asked before her brain could stop her, almost as if on reflex. It was like she had slipped back in time to seven years ago. She hadn't even thought about what she had said until the words were out of her mouth.

"I...No," he replied awkwardly, his chest letting out a hurt sigh. His pain was tangible...she...she hadn't meant it. She hadn't wanted to rub salt in the wound. "I can hose off just fine on my own now."

"Of course," she nodded, turning on her heel and heading inside. She carefully opened the storm door. The old hinges squeaked noisily as she entered - the plastic clattering shut behind her.

She hadn't realized how much she missed that sound. Or how hard her heart would clench when she heard it.

It was the sound of her childhood.

The sound of them running in from the yard for a popsicle after playing during long, lazy summer days. It was the sound of Inuyasha chasing her to the family room before they started working on their homework together. It was the sound of his parents returning when they were upstairs in Inuyasha's bed with their hands and lips all over each other's bodies.

Good lord. How they had never actually had sex, she still had no idea...Only, that wasn't true.

It was...it was too scary at the time.

Too big a step.

They were young and adventurous...and...while he had made it clear that if she wanted to go further, he absolutely would...she hadn't quite been that adventurous. She had been shy and nervous and…

She sighed.

She would have much rather slept with Inuyasha than waste her first time by getting drunk at a college party and screwing around with the first thing that had a dick.

Hindsight was 20/20.

She looked around the kitchen and got out two glasses to fill with cold water from the pitcher in the fridge, knowing that Inuyasha could use a drink whenever he came back in. It was hot out there, and he had been working hard and—

"Boys? Are you back already? That was faster than…" Izayoi gasped, clearly not expecting to see the raven haired woman now standing in the middle of her kitchen with two glasses of water. "Kagome?"

"Hi Mrs. Takahashi," she greeted weakly. She was sure she was giving the poor woman heart failure right about now. It wasn't like...things weren't what they used to be. Seeing her wasn't as normal or as common an occurrence as it once was.

She watched as Izayoi blinked hard and long as if she had to have been imagining the woman in front of her.

"Kagome," she whispered still in shock. "What are you doin' here?"

The sound of the storm door creaking open and slamming shut again drew their attention to Inuyasha as he walked in, rubbing his face with the hem of his shirt. Water beaded up on his skin, making it shimmer in the kitchen light.

Kagome tried to not let the view affect her.

She really did...but he had really matured since she last saw him and...well...she was only human ok? A human with eyes. A woman with red blood, and it was all working against her right now.

The fucker. The way he smirked at her told her that he was doing it intentionally, too. Like he wanted to remind her of what she had given up...and how much better it was now. It was like he was saying, 'and to think...all this could have been yours'.

He let the hem of his shirt fall as he greeted his mother with a hug, barefoot from ditching his shoes outside the door so he wouldn't track mud in. She always yelled at the "boys" for tracking mud in.

"Her rental car broke down just outside the ranch," he explained, raising an eyebrow at the glass of water she offered him. She wanted to roll her eyes and tell him that it wasn't poisoned...but they had agreed to be civil for the sake of the woman in front of them. "The engine overheated. We have to wait until it cools down before we can do something about it."

"So you came here?" She asked tightly.

Oh.

Good.

She was thrilled to see her too.

Had she pissed off everyone in his family?

"Yes Ma," he sighed, downing the glass of water. "It's closer than her family's ranch, and the car broke down here. It made sense."

"I see…" Izayoi replied, glancing between them.

"It's ok, Ma," he gently reassured her. "Imma big kid now. I can make adult decisions," he tried to joke lightly, but it didn't ease his mother too much.

"Well Mr. Big Kid - Kikyo called while you were out," Izayoi informed him, leaning against the door frame leading from the living room into the kitchen.

Kagome watched his puppy dog ears perk up and felt her heart sour.

Kikyo? Really?

Were they...were they dating now?

She tried to mentally shake herself, but it was hard. Kikyo had always been interested in Inuyasha. She shouldn't have been surprised...Yet…

Was he really replacing her with Kikyo?

Whatever. He wasn't hers anymore. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted. It didn't matter. But...why the hell hadn't he brought it up when he was asking about her "pet cat". That was just…

Rude? Deceptive?

It wasn't fair that he seemed to know a hell of a lot more about her than she did him.

"Oh yeah? What did she want?" He asked, drawing her out of her thoughts. His smirk grew at the mention of Kikyo as he went to refill his glass of water.

"She said something about going to the Rusty Bucket after you go to the highschool to help set up for graduation tomorrow. I thought I'd let you call her back and get all of the details."

"Yeah. It sounds fun. I'll call later after we get her situated," he grinned tilting his head towards Kagome.

He was loving this, wasn't he? This was everything he could ask for...being able to show off his new life. Show her how fine he was without her. Show her how much he didn't need her. She was sure it was all kinds of fucking satisfying for him.

"Rusty Bucket, huh? I haven't thought of that place in a long time."

It was their local bar. Well...local being the operative word. It was the bar in the closest town...the truest definition of a dive bar. Dark lighting, pool tables, a mechanical bull...top it off with sticky furniture and greasy food? Perfection.

"We weren't exactly old enough ta get in when you were here last," he grinned.

"I've been a few times."

His smile faltered at that.

"Huh. Shame I didn't run into ya."

Running into him wasn't exactly her goal when she went. Running into him was never her goal.

"Have you called your mother yet, Kagome?" Izayoi asked, running interference between them. "I'm sure she must be worried sick about you."

"No...not yet. I was going to do that after I got him some water," she confessed, causing Izayoi to raise a suspicious eyebrow in her direction.

"Well. No time like the present. You're welcome to stay for dinner...sounds like it will be a while until the car cools off. Touga and Sesshomaru have the truck right now and the sedan needs to be looked at."

"I...dinner would be lovely. Thank you," she replied awkwardly, and Izayoi nodded her head.

"I'm going to finish up folding the laundry and then I could use your help making it. Baby, are you gonna go back out there and help your father and brother? Or are you done for the day?"

"I think they'll be fine without me," he smiled smally. "I wanted to take a shower if that's alright. I smell like an ogar's armpit."

She wanted to ask how that was different from normal...but…

She mentally sighed and held her tongue instead.

"Go on Sweetheart," she encouraged, and he finished his glass of water before disappearing, squeezing his mother's shoulder as he passed.

The second he was gone, Izayoi nailed Kagome with a hard look, making her shift uncomfortably in her shoes.

"Seven years," she whispered, looking her up and down. "You've changed quite a bit in seven years. Turned into a very attractive woman."

"Thank you, Mrs. Takahashi."

"Mmm...seven years can do a lot to a person, can't it? It can make them grow up. Mature. Move on."

Kagome suddenly got the feeling she wasn't going to like where Izayoi was going with this.

"You know, it's taken my baby a long time to learn how to smile again after you had your way with him. He's finally laughing. Looking forward to each new day. The darkness you left in his eyes and his heart has finally disappeared...and he's turned into a fine young man.

A respectable young man.

A young man with a new twinkle in his eye and a respectable, good woman on his arm.

Kagome Higurashi...I swear to God and to all things Holy...if you hurt my baby, or try to get between him and Kikyo...you could move to New York and I'd still hunt you down and pull your teeth out your ass. We clear?"

"Y-yes Ma'am," she stuttered, the vehemence in her words and the ice in her stare freezing her blood.

"Good. You know I always thought of you as the daughter I never had...but after what you did to my boy?" She paused to tsk and shake her head. "You come for your lil' visit and then you get outta here. You understand me?"

"Yes Ma'am," she whispered, trying to ignore the feeling of her heart shattering into a thousand pieces.

What was she expecting though? A warm hug and a kiss on the cheek?

All of this was a giant mistake. She should have just...just asked him to take her home. It would have been easier than facing her past. Then again….maybe she should be.

Maybe it was time to face her demons, once and for all.

Pun only slightly intended.

———————————————————

Wall of tags! Let me know if you want in or out! 

(If you get tagged in this post after requesting tags, it’s because that’s how I’m keeping track of them. If you requested a tag and aren’t there, I might not have seen it so please ask again!)

@clearwillow, @keichanz, @dangerouspompadour, @nartista, @kaze-ranna, @superpixie42, @sticky-llama-perfection, @pinkpigeonstudio, @mcornilliac, @itzatakahashi, @zelink-inukag, @juliatheanimelover7, @csim28, @smmahamazing, @the-lucky-ones311, @cyncyn981, @ayari17, @animemomma96

[thelovecore]

Could I request a Steve Harrington x reader where steve shows up at the readers house right after all the shit of s3 went down and she just like takes care of him??? Like soft hugs and first aid and comfort and just holding him??? Your writing is amazinggggg

I love this idea! I hope you like this. I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for the request!

Masterlist

______________________

Help |Steve Harrington|

Steve Harrington and I lived on the same street. We have our whole lives. When we were little, our moms would get together and complain about their husbands while Steve and I played. When we were in middle school, Steve and I would run around the neighborhood together and wait for the ice cream truck. When my dad left my mom, I cried into Steve’s arms. When Steve was old enough to figure out that his dad’s business trips probably had other meanings, he cried into my arms. In high school, however, we grew apart. I wasn’t into the whole “King” Steve thing, and he dropped our friendship like a hot potato for the popular crowd. I won’t lie, during basketball pep rallies, I cheered loudest for him. When he still played baseball, I only watched when he was at bat. Deep down, in the very pit of Steve’s existence, I knew he hadn’t forgotten about me. I knew, or maybe just really, really hoped, that Steve and I would reconnect one day. After his other friends had ditched him. He would remember those nights.

When my dad left when I was thirteen, I was sobbing into Steve’s chest out in his yard. He had just been hugging me, rubbing my back.

“Why would he do that, Steve? I would never leave my kid.” I said thickly. Steve looked down at me and wiped away my tears.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, pulling me close.

“I’m never getting married or having kids. I can’t trust anyone after this. I…I could never make my kids feel how I feel right now. I can’t imagine how my mom feels.” I said.  

“Hey, don’t say that. We’re still young, and you’ll find a really good guy someday and he’ll stay with you forever.” Steve said.

“I don’t want to put my trust in someone like that.” I said.

“You’re going to be okay. You’re smart, and funny, and people like you. No one would leave you.” He said, hugging me tighter. “I wouldn’t, at least.”

“Thank you Steve.”

After graduation, Steve and I had spoken more. When he wasn’t around his popular friends, we would hang out and grab dinner some nights or just watch movies. He was still the same Steve I grew up with, and we had newfound fears and feelings to connect on. He wasn’t going to go to college right away because of his grades, and my mom and I couldn’t afford it. We both felt stuck in Hawkins, but at least we were stuck together.

My mom had been out of town for the week visiting her sister Sharon and I just got home from my late shift at the restaurant. I was out of high school now, trying to save money to move out on my own. I walked in the front door to the answering machine blinking. I played it, and it was my mom, saying to call her because she saw on the news that Starcourt Mall was on fire. I called her back and said I hadn’t heard anything, but I’d keep an eye on the news. I worked far enough away from the mall that I wouldn’t have known if anything happened. In the back of my mind, I thought of my friend who worked at Scoops Ahoy and hoped he was okay. I thought of calling over to his house, but I could see the lights were dark, so they were either sleeping or not home.

I changed out of my waitress uniform and I had heard a knocking on my front door. I slowly walked towards it, grabbing the fire poker on my way past the fireplace. The knocking was soft, but firm. They knew I was home, but didn’t want to really cause a scene. I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly as I looked through the peephole.

Steve. In his Scoops Ahoy uniform, but he was beaten.

I flung the door open and he wobbled a little. I looked him up and down and almost started to cry. His eye was swollen shut, he was covered in blood, holding his side, smiling slightly through a split lip.

“Steve?” I whisper yelled. Who I was afraid of disturbing with my voice, I didn’t know.

“Hey.” He croaked. “Can…can I come in?”

“Of course, here, let me help.” I threw the fire poker aside and guided Steve in. I had my arm around his waist, and he put one over my shoulders. In the moment, I felt butterflies mixed with terror in the pit of my stomach.

“What happened?” I asked. He pulled like he was going to the living room to lay on the couch, but I guided him back towards my bedroom. He silently gave in to our tug of war between our bodies and followed me.

“I can stay on the couch.” He said softly. I shook my head quickly.

“No. No way.” I said. “Do you want to shower?”

“That sounds so good. Can you help me though?” He asked. Our eyes met and I smiled a little. The thought of helping Steve in the shower was taking over my teenage hormones. I blushed a little and helped him into the bathroom. I turned the water on so it was warm, but not too hot. I gently helped Steve take off the top to his uniform. He has bruises all melting together over his ribs. I gently ran my hand over them and he winced a little.

“I’m so sorry.” I said. He looked up at me and did something you wouldn’t expect him to in his state.

He smiled.

“It’s okay.” He said. I turned around so I wasn’t staring at him as he shimmied off his shorts and got in the shower.

“Tell me if you need help standing up.” I said as he shut the shower curtain.

“I might just lean on the wall under the water for a while.” He said. “This feels so good.”

“Did Hargrove do this to you?” I asked. Steve said nothing and I heard him shuffle. I was sitting on the toilet, towel in hand, ready to give it to Steve when he was ready.

“No. It was something else.” He said. “Do you remember the stories I told you about the demodogs and  stuff?”

“Yeah.” I said, feeling fear rise up in my chest. “Are they back?”

“No. They’re not anymore.” He said.

“Steve, you should probably go to a hospital.” I said. I could hear him fiddling with the soap. “Do you need help?”

“Can you just get the soap all over the washcloth for me?” He said, sticking the bar of soap and washcloth out from behind the curtain. “Besides, I was looked at by paramedics.”

I got the wash cloth from him and rubbed soap all over it. I handed it back and heard him whine when he hit the sore spots.

“Hey.” He said softly. “I need help.”

“What do you need?” I said, jumping up.

“Can you wash my face? I can’t get my arms that high.” He said. He pulled back the curtain enough that his head and chest were out, but he covered his lower half. Ignoring my own blushing and what I thought was either blushing or blood stain on his face, I took the washcloth and gently wiped the dried blood from it. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. After I got it all off, I held the towel up for him to use, and I turned around until he had it wrapped around himself. I held his arms as he stepped out of the shower and I caught him as he slightly stumbled out. This is the closest I’ve been to Steve in a long time.

“Let’s get you to bed. I’m also getting some ice for that eye.” I said. “And I’ll get you some pain medicine. It might not do much, but it’ll help.”

“Thank you so much.” He said, sitting on the edge of my bed. I grabbed some old sweatpants and a big t shirt and handed them to him. I walked out of the room so he could change.

I grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it in a towel and I grabbed water and pain medicine for him. When I went back into the room, Steve had the sweatpants on, but needed help with the shirt.

I gingerly put each sleeve over his arms and he ducked his head down to put the shirt on. We chuckled a little at how silly this felt.

“Did you ever think that someday you’d need my help putting clothes on?” I asked, laughing a little.

“Putting clothes on, no.” He said, chuckling as much as he had energy for. He held the ice to his head and looked at me with his other eye. “Thank you so much for all of this.” He said.

“Don’t mention it. You’re obviously in bad shape. I wasn’t going to leave my friend on the porch to die.”

“You’re really cool.” He said, laying back on the pillows. “I’m sorry I ditched you in high school.”

“Steve, don’t worry about that right now.” I said, putting my hand on his forehead. I was kneeling next to him. I pulled up a chair from my vanity and sat next to him.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” He said, eyes slowly drooping.

“I’m going to keep an eye on you for a little bit. Can you finish this glass of water for me before you fall asleep?” He sat up slightly at my request.

“You’re such a good person. You always have been.” He said, sipping the water. “I didn’t see it for a few years. I’m so sorry.” He said. I could tell he was speaking out of exhaustion.

“Steve. It’s fine.” I said, smiling.

“You…you were still here for me after I was a douche in high school. You never left me.” He said. I reached out and held his hand, to try and keep him calm.  

“Do you remember when my dad left and I came over to your house and cried all night long?” I asked softly. “You told me that I was smart and funny and people liked me and wouldn’t leave me.” He nodded slowly. I reached up and put my hand on his un-bruised cheek and he leaned into my touch.  “Well Steve, I think you’re smart, and funny, and brave, and I would never leave you.”

His eyes welled up with tears. He laid back against the pillow and I crawled into bed next to him. I stayed sitting up against the headboard so I would stay awake, and Steve curled up next to me with his head on my chest.

“Thank you.” He whispered. “I…when we wake up tomorrow, can we talk? About us?”

“Sure.” I said, gently rubbing his back as I felt his breathing slow, hoping he didn’t feel the pounding of my heart in my chest. As he fell asleep, I leaned down and kissed the top of his head. I stroked his head tenderly, afraid to wake him up.

I nodded off after a few hours of watching Steve sleep, with a slight smile on my lips.

[ofheroesandvillains]

First Impressions - Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes/Fem!reader

Words: 1.5k (a super short one for once!) Warnings: None. I’ve posted something similar to this years ago, so if it seems familiar that’s why :) Summary: Bucky meets his girl’s parents for the first time.

(Gif not mine!)

When you’re done swimming please don’t forget to take the wine out of the freezer, I love you! 

Those were the final instructions you had given him before you went to pick your parents up from the airport. It was the first time he would be meeting the people that had given him the incredible woman he’d been dating for the past 6 months. No pressure.

The early morning had been spent cleaning your house - you wanted it all perfect for your parents after not seeing them for so long. You had reassured him that they were nice, friendly people and that he had nothing to worry about…and then you gave him a long list of things to do that made it seem like he definitely did have something to worry about.

“It’s okay, they’ll love you! Just be yourself…well, maybe not, I mean…be yourself, just maybe dial down the sarcasm…and don’t make any sex jokes, definitely no to the sex jokes. In fact, maybe don’t even mention sex, or touching, or…beds?”

He snorted. “Don’t mention beds? Damn, I was really looking forward to that conversation.”

“See that? That was the sarcasm I was talking about.” You looked at him pointedly, but couldn’t help but chuckle when he shot you that million dollar grin.

Their flight would be landing just after midday so Bucky has spent a few hours in the pool, enjoying the warm, sunny day and getting lost in his thoughts after putting his washing out to dry. His future in-laws (and hell yeah he was certain of that fact) were from Chicago, and if they were anything like their daughter, then Bucky was looking forward to meeting them. It would be nice to finally-

Oh no…

He cringed when he heard a shout come from over the fence. If there was one thing he didn’t like about your house, it was your neighbour. Your young, single, male neighbour who Bucky was convinced took any opportunity he could to interact with his girl. The only thing Bucky disliked more than him, was the annoying pug that he'd released into the backyard. The very same pug that would somehow ‘magically’ find its way into your backyard all the damn time. And if by some chance it did manage to stay in its own yard, it would never stop barking.

Bucky wasn’t stupid, he knew what the neighbour was trying to do. Every time the dog ended up in your yard, he would have an excuse to look over the fence and flirt with you. Sometimes the little pest would even steal things and carry them back home too! Ugh. He hated them both.

Not this time, pal. 

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed in irritation when he heard the familiar yapping. So much for relaxing before they arrive, he thought. With another dramatic sigh, Bucky paddled his inflatable donut to the steps of the pool, before getting out and drying off. It was nice having some time off from training and travelling with the team. 

Bucky didn’t get to see you as often as he would like, but he was working up the courage to change that. He’d been wanting to ask you to move in with him for a long time, but this was his first serious relationship and he didn’t know when it would be appropriate.

The timing felt right, it’d felt right for a while…but he didn’t want to freak you out, even if you were usually the calmest person he knew. You would say yes, he was almost 100% sure of it, but it was the ‘what if’ that made him hesitate.

But that wasn’t his concern at the moment. Instead, he took the wine out of the freezer and made his way upstairs for a shower. Usually you would stay at his place, so he didn’t keep too many of his things at your house…which was probably why he had completely forgotten to take a change of clothes with him into the bathroom. Earlier in the morning he’d washed all of the clothes he kept in his designated draw of your dresser and put them all out to dry in the warm sun.

He groaned at the thought of going back downstairs. With a towel hastily thrown around him, Bucky made his way outside and started gathering his clothes. It was all well and good…until he felt the towel being viciously ripped from around his hips. He dropped the pile of clothes with a startled yelp and quickly stomped on the edge of the towel to stop the little monster from getting away.

“Oh no you don’t!” Bucky growled.

The pug was practically foaming at the mouth as it growled right back, eyes bugging out and angry that Bucky was putting up a fight. It was no match for his strength, but the damn thing was so stubborn he could hear its paws scrapping against the large tiles in resistance. He could also hear the edges of the towel tearing, and the pug went stumbling back when it was finally ripped out of its mouth.

“Aha! Got it, you little mutt!” 

Bucky held the towel over his head in victory, that wide loveable grin on his face. The pug scampered away, and Bucky froze in his tracks when he turned and noticed the three new faces staring at him from the other side of the glass sliding door. His girlfriend’s jaw had all but hit the floor, and while that was usually the reaction he was going for when naked, the sight of the two people behind you had him quickly wrapping the towel back around his hips. He must have been 10 different shades of red when he realised that your parents, the ones he was meeting for the very first time, had seen him…all of him.

Bucky could have sworn that your mother’s startled gasp echoed throughout the whole neighbourhood, and then she was collapsing into the arms of the man beside her. Your dad cried out in panic, finally drawing your attention attention. You still didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the fact that you’d just witnessed your man locked, butt-naked, in the most intense game of tug-of-war you’d seen to date.     

“Bucky…”

“Uhhh…I can explain?” He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

Steve was never gonna let him live this one down.

“You know, that went a lot better than I thought it would. I think they like me.” 

Bucky smiled, looking awfully self-satisfied. You knew he was just glad that his little show hadn’t condemned him in the eyes of your parents. They were actually very cool people, he found out - that must have been where you got it from. They had even joked about the whole situation all night long.

“Yeah? I’d like you too if you showed up on my doorstep naked when we first met.” You joked, settling into bed beside him.

“Hey, you said not to mention sex, or touching, or beds…and I didn’t.” He smirked and pulled you into his arms, your head resting on his chest.

“Oh, I’m sorry that ‘don’t play naked tug-of-war with the neighbour’s pug’ wasn’t on the list, I’ll be sure to add it next time.” You laughed sweetly and pressed a kiss to his bare chest. 

“At least you gave Lawrence a good show…” You nodded your head in the direction of your neighbour’s house even though neither of you could see it. 

“He’s been asking me to set him up with a sexy superhero for months.” You raised your brows pointedly.

Bucky eyes widened.

“Wha-? You mean he’s…?”

You laughed at his bewildered expression. “Of course! Why else would he always send his dog over here? You know he named that thing ‘Barky’ to match your name, right?”

Bucky snorted, unable to hold back a laugh.

“And that is one of the many reasons you should move in with me.” He held his breath for a moment, not knowing where that came from. He hadn’t even thought about it since morning, but it was out there now.

“Oh I don’t think that’s such a good idea…” There was a teasing tone to your words that made him silently sigh in relief. You propped yourself up on his chest to look up at him. 

“My mom is already convinced that ‘that well-endowed boy’” he snorted, “will have me pregnant by the summer.” You added in a scandalous whisper. 

“She did not say that.” He laughed in astonishment.

“You have no idea…don’t worry, I told her you wouldn’t know how to use that thing even if you tried-ah!” Bucky quickly flipped you over, admiring the stunning smile he was graced with and cutting your laugh short with a kiss.

“Liar.” He whispered against your lips. “But if you need a little convincing, I’m all for a demonstration...” He cocked a brow, never one to back down from a challenge. You smiled.

“Mhm…consider it a reward for helping me pack tomorrow.”

[triggeringthehealing]

welcome to the neighborhood

Derek/Stiles | 2961w | G | AO3

Summary: Normally he'd be working at the window, with a clear view of his front yard, people-watching as he types the essay that he's supposed to hand in tomorrow. The one that he was meant to work on for the past week. However, there has been a distraction right outside his window. Or rather, across the street. 

A/N: Written for the @multifandomwritingchallenge - December prompt: “I must have been an awful person in my past life.” (theme: dialogue prompts) (as per usual, I can’t make things on time :/ I’m sorry!) 

Stiles glances out of his window again, for the tenth time this morning. Then he sighs and walks away from it, rubbing his eyes and clenching his teeth as he walks across the room to where he temporarily set up his laptop.

Normally he'd be working at the window, with a clear view of his front yard, people-watching as he types the essay that he's supposed to hand in tomorrow. The one that he was meant to work on for the past week. However, there has been a distraction right outside his window. Or rather, across the street.

The neighborhood where he lives is a quiet one, the houses privately owned and the residents strictly the owners of said houses, with the exception of the small one that he and Scott live in. They're renting from—of all people—Scott's father, who's been trying to mend his relationship with Scott and the house is one of the offerings. Scott had been reluctant to accept it until Stiles pointed out how much quieter it would be compared to dorms and how much cheaper if he played his cards right.

It was a delight living here for the past two years, most of their neighbors lovely people who have been supplying them with food and the occasional fix of Stiles's Jeep—one of them is a mechanic—while Scott and Stiles offered grass mowing and car washing services in return.

Only one house had been unoccupied, according to Rafael for years before the boys moved in, and it's the one right across the street. The only movement in the house was an occasional visit from a cleaning service and a gardener who were keeping the house in a habitable state despite their being no actual inhabitants. That changed almost exactly a week ago, when a black Camaro pulled up, followed by a moving van that unloaded several boxes into the driveway. Stiles was just on his way out then, so he didn't see their new neighbor until the next morning.

At 7am sharp, while Stiles was stumbling out of the door and into his Jeep so he'd get to a class on time, the front door across the street opened and out walked... Stiles's wildest dream and his worst nightmare all rolled into one man. Who was obviously heading out for a jog, if his skin-tight shorts, loose tank top and trainers were anything to go by. He didn't say hello, didn't seem to even acknowledge Stiles's presence and he set off into a run, leaving Stiles watching his tanned back and the flashes of a black tattoo on the man's back. Stiles absolutely did not glance below the man's waist to see the curve of his delightfully bubbly ass.

That would have been extremely rude.

It's also why he's sitting on the couch in the living room now, curled into a slightly uncomfortable position, instead of taking advantage of the perfectly positioned desk and the chair that makes hours spent in it seem like nothing.

Because the desk is right at the front window. The same window that faces the house across the street. And while it's not 7am—their new neighbor is punctual with his morning jogs—it seems that it's perfect lawn-mowing time instead. Just as it was car-washing time the day before, house-painting time a few days earlier, window-washing time another afternoon. There's been something every single day, as if the man across the street knew when Stiles had to be sitting at his desk and having the perfect view of his muscled back and wide shoulders, the dark swirls of the tattoo on his back—a triskelion, as Stiles found out on the window-washing day when tank tops were apparently unnecessary—and the swell of his ass whenever he bent over.

"I must have been an awful person in my past life," Stiles mumbles to himself, the empty house offering no sound of consolation.

It's been the longest week, catching glimpses of their new neighbor no matter how much Stiles tried not to. He didn't even know the man's name—Rafael only remembered that there used to be a family years ago, then he mentioned something about a fire and how the house was rebuilt—but he did see the tall and beautiful woman who made an appearance one of the mornings. She'd been in casual clothes and kissed the man's cheek as he left for his jog, then she got into a shiny Jeep—a model way newer than Stiles's—and drove off.

"No wonder he's taken," Stiles muttered then, any dreams of a meet-cute with the potential of getting to know the man in every way possible dashed into smithereens.

He's about to give up on the essay and grab himself something to drink when he hears the rumbling of Scott's bike.

Dinner time, Stiles thinks.

He sets down the laptop and heads towards the kitchen, figuring that now that Scott's home, they might as well figure out something to eat. Stiles is looking at an all-nighter the way his essay is going, so he's going to need the energy. His head is stuck in the chest freezer as he rummages through whatever they have that's easy enough to make when the voices from the front door carry all the way to his ears.

"It's not a bother at all," Scott says to someone who's obviously coming into the house with him. "We should have that spare bulb. Anytime you need anything man, just knock. Stiles is home most of the evenings, I'm home in the mornings, one of us is bound to be around."

"What's a Stiles?"

It's a soft voice, one that Stiles doesn't recognize, but a vague sense of panic washes over him. He knows all their other neighbors by now and since this is someone new, it can only mean...

"Hey Stiles, where are you?" Scott calls out from the living room when he finds it empty. "Come meet our new neighbor Derek!” Then he adds more quietly, clearly to Derek, their neighbor: "Stiles is my housemate and best friend."

"Is he the one who owns the death-trap Jeep?" Derek asks, amusement ringing through his voice.

"Yeah, it's one he had since he learned to drive," Scott says, then adds something more quietly.

Stiles figures it's the fact that the Jeep used to belong to his mom, if the acknowledging hum from Derek is anything to go by. Scott calls his name again and Stiles hisses when he startles and hits the back of his head on the chest freezer's lid.

"In the kitchen," he replies just so Scott doesn't call him again.

The thing is though, he's been home all afternoon, trying to write his essay. And his studying clothes are very much comfort over style, so he's in his pajama bottoms—the soft and worn out ones—and a T-shirt that has more holes and stains than fabric. Which is not really the best first impression he wanted to make on their hot new neighbor. Then again, said neighbor already noticed Stiles's old Jeep and clearly had reservations about its functionality or looks or whatever, Stiles doesn't care. He loves Roscoe and would go to bat for him, especially to snobby owners of shiny Camaros who—

He doesn't get to finish the thought because Scott strolls into the kitchen with Derek right behind him, still in his sweaty and loose tank top and the running shorts that have been driving Stiles to distraction. Who even wears running shorts to mow the lawn? Stiles has been asking himself that question every time he glanced out of the window.

"Hey, Stiles, this is our new neighbor from across the road, Derek," Scott says with his usual cheerful demeanor. "Derek, this is my housemate Stiles."

"Hey," Stiles says, glad that he managed to at least open his mouth without making a complete idiot of himself.

Then again, the day's not over yet.

"Hey," Derek replies, eyes roaming up and down Stiles's body, eyebrow rising as he takes in the state of his clothes.

Stiles can't help it, he returns the same look to Derek, pointedly looking at the clothes he is wearing. To mow the lawn. Because what the hell.

"Derek's lightbulb in the garage blew, so I offered one of our spares," Scott says, glancing between the two of them as they continue their glaring stand-off. "Are they still in the hall cupboard?"

It's only reluctantly and with yet another pointed glare at Derek that Stiles looks away and turns to Scott instead.

"No, the shelf in the garage, above the washing machine,” he says. "Remember your dad moved all that crap so we had space in the hall?"

"Right, yeah," Scott replies, then he glances at Derek. "I'll be back in a moment."

Then he looks at Stiles and gives him his patent what are you doing? look. Stiles knows that one, it's been a constant presence in his life throughout high school, usually when he was lying to his father about something. He disappears before Stiles can—even just nonverbally—defend himself.

And it's Derek and Stiles in the kitchen, alone. With Derek and his tank top and his dark hair and big expressive eyebrows and tanned skin and why is Stiles even looking into his eyes like a creep and trying to figure out what color they are?

"So, uh, you all moved in?"

It's the only question he can think of, most of his mind spinning around the fact that the hot neighbor whom Stiles thought was completely unapproachable is now in his kitchen and probably judging Stiles's dress sense. For a good reason, really, not that Stiles is about to admit that out loud.

"Yeah," Derek says, then he smiles and glances towards the window.

Oh my god bunny teeth! Stiles’s mind supplies very unhelpfully when his eyes land on Derek's smiling mouth.

"My sister will probably say that my interior design skills are severely lacking and she'll redo everything," Derek keeps talking, "but the house is livable now, at least."

"Sister?"

Stiles's mind is reeling from the lightness of Derek's tone, such a a contrast to the distant man he seemed to be whenever Stiles saw him heading out for his runs in the mornings.

"I think you might have seen her a few days ago," Derek says, frowning. "You were headed to... school? Work?"

"School, yeah," Stiles says, then his brain catches up. "That was your sister? And I didn't think you noticed me, like, ever."

"Yeah, that was Laura. My older sister, as she likes to point out frequently, though it's only by a few minutes," Derek says, sounding a little grumbly, like siblings tend to be about each other.

Stiles would know, that's been his relationship with Scott even before their parents started dating and made their brotherhood official. There's fondness in Derek's tone though and Stiles remembers the news he saw about the fire at their house and the amount of casualties that there were. If his internal math is right, Laura is the only family Derek has left.

"I did notice you," Derek says. "At the risk of sounding creepy, you have classes—" he pauses and there's the most adorable blush rising in his cheeks and down his chest, "—on Tuesday and Wednesday morning. And you tend to be barely awake that early in the morning. You probably shouldn't be driving like that."

"I've been driving since I was fifteen, I'm good," Stiles says defensively. "And not everyone is up and jogging at an ungodly hour like that. Every day."

Oh shit, Stiles thinks, realizing that Derek only knew about the mornings when Stiles was actually outside and leaving his house at the same time as Derek was heading out for his run. But now he knows that Stiles is aware that the runs are daily. Which he clearly realized, if the way his eyebrow shoots up is any indication.

"Have you been driving that Jeep since you got your license?” Derek asks instead, then he pauses and narrows his eyes. "You're Mrs Stilinski's kid."

Stiles's eyes widen in surprise because he hasn't heard his mom being referred to that way in years. Since before she died, really, because she hadn't been teaching for the last few years.

"You knew her?"

"She was my year's homeroom teacher, when I was in Beacon Hills," Derek says quietly.

"Oh. And yeah, I've been driving Roscoe from the first day I was allowed to," Stiles says, not wanting to dwell too long on the past and memories that probably aren't pleasant for either him or Derek.

"Does it still run on duct tape and prayers?" Derek asks, smirking.

"How do you know about that?"

"From her, actually," Derek tells him. "She used to refuse any help from the guys who were fixing their own cars and offered to look at it. Said getting it fixed properly would ruin the car's integrity."

Stiles smirks to himself and feels a pang in his chest accompanied by fondness.

"That sounds like Mom," he says, quietly.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Derek says then, just as quietly. "She was my favorite teacher."

Stiles nods. There's not much else he can say—it's been years since his mom died and he still gets the occasional comment like Derek's, from people who remember her—and he's a little thrown by the link that Derek has to Stiles's past. But then he can't help it, his curiosity too strong to just let it go.

"It's weird, I didn't realize there was anyone in the area who knew Beacon Hills," he tells Derek. "Just Scott and I. And Rafa," he adds, then explains when Derek's eyebrow lifts in confusion. "Scott's Dad. He owns this place, we're just renting."

"Ah. Not many renters in the area, usually," Derek remarks. "We moved here before I finished high school. Mom's job pulled her out."

Stiles doesn't ask about her. Or about the fire. It's not a "just getting to know you" conversation, despite the fact that they've already touched on Stiles's loss of a parent.

"So, you'll be here for another few years?" Derek asks then.

"Two more, probably, depending on how college goes," Stiles replies. "Scott's in vet school, so he'll stick around."

"You won't?"

"Depends on which academy I get into," Stiles says, then realizes that he needs to elaborate. "Police academy. Following in Dad's footsteps, hopefully. Or at least a similar direction. Might be Quantico, for all I know."

"High hopes," Derek says, smiling. "So, will it be weird to ask you out?"

Stiles's mind screeches to a halt.

"What?"

"Coffee. Maybe dinner, if you'd be up for it," Derek says, like he didn't just completely blow Stiles's mind. "If it's not something you want to do, forget it. And I hope it won't make things awkward."

"Only if you don't really mean it," Stiles says. "You're not like, pulling my leg because you know that I noticed you beyond what's casual and normal."

"Why are you talking about normal?" Scott asks, just walking into the kitchen. "That can't be about you."

Stiles groans in frustration. Like it's not bad enough that his first few impressions were less than stellar, Scott's now driving the stake into an already shaky image. Which Derek obviously didn't hate. Until now.

"Normal is overrated anyway," Derek says and grins. "So, coffee?"

"Oh no, did I walk into something?" Scott asks, looking alarmed and apologetic. "Here's the lightbulb, don't mind me, I'll just go... park the bike or something."

Stiles watches his best friend stumble out of the kitchen and towards the already perfectly parked bike outside—Stiles knows this because he's never seen Scott not be careful with it—leaving Derek and Stiles there, in awkward silence. That doesn't last too long though.

"So, coffee," Stiles says, forgetting to make it a question.

"If you want to," Derek tells him and he looks hesitant and like he's bracing himself for a rejection.

Which makes zero sense at all, because who would refuse an offer like that? Not Stiles.

"That would be great," Stiles says, maybe a little too fast.

He's way past trying to look like a regular and well-adjusted person though. All things considered, it's pretty pointless anyway.

"Tomorrow? Or is that too soon?" Derek asks, his hesitation turning into a hopeful expression.

"I want to say yes. I really do," Stiles tells him, apologetic. "But I have this essay due tomorrow and I'm pretty sure that I'll need an all-nighter to finish it because I got nothing done this afternoon."

Since you were outside, mowing the lawn and being a distraction, Stiles doesn't say.

"Well, good luck with that and... let me know when you're free?"

"I know where you live," Stiles blurts out, then he feels his cheeks heat up. "I mean, in a completely non-stalkery and non-creepy way, because you're right across the street and I see you all the time. Because you're always outside, doing things."

Derek chuckles.

"I'll see you soon," he says. "Maybe in the morning? Around seven?"

Then he walks out of the kitchen while Stiles is still looking at him with an open mouth and wide eyes.

—

They get coffee the next day, when Stiles stumbles to Derek's front door right after he gets home from handing in his essay. He's barely awake, his hair looks like a mess and his clothes are only a step above what he was wearing when they first met properly. But there's the promise of coffee and getting to look into Derek's eyes and well, Stiles's sleep-deprived brain thinks it's the best idea ever.

It turns out that Derek doesn't disagree.

[babykpopsweets]

A Hidden Member

 Plot: A KARD scenario where BM and Soomin are a couple and they adopt the reader (who is like 14/15 years old) and they introduce the other members to the reader and over all a lot of fluff.

              Today is the day. The day I’ve been waiting for fourteen years. I sat down with my luggage on the stairs of the orphanage home that took me in so long ago, after my parents passed. The wooden stairs were a faded and aged turquoise. Things sure changed. It was 12 in the afternoon and was a windy yet sunny day when I saw them. Mr. Matthew and Mrs. Somin. My new parents. They were beautiful, and radiated this comforting lovingness, like a hug from both of them. Mr. Matthew was tall, and I mean TALL. But his smile was bright and kind. He was also very muscular. Mrs. Somin was minuscule compared to him, but her beauty was comparable to a goddess. Her eye smile was friendly and gentle, like a mother panda, and her hair flowed like nutmeg colored silk in the wind. They both came up and greeted me.“Hello Y/n!” Mrs. Somin said as she waved at me.“Heyyy Y/n!”  Mr. Matthew said. “It’s so nice to  finally meet you” He gave out his hand for me to shake, and so I did.“Y/n honey we are going inside to sign a few papers then you can come home with us okay?” Mrs. Somin said as she smoothed out your hair.“Okay Mrs. Somin.” I said, smiling trying to contain your excitement and joy for your new parents. “Don’t be so formal, you can call us Mom and Dad” Dad said.      OK, now I was going to explode with merriment. Mom and Dad. My parents. PARENTS. It felt so strange yet right at the same time. “Okay.” I said. They both went inside while I waited in the front. A new beginning. A new family. Wow. I can’t believe it. I’m going to have a mother and father again! This.is.AWESOME. I squealed with excitement. After all these years, of waiting, doubting, and hoping, the moment was finally here. I hope my friends here will have the same happen to them. Oh look! Mom and Dad are out. I got up and walked with them. I got in the car and was amazed at the inside of the car. Everything was leather, black and crisp. The seats felt like memory foam. They must be very wealthy to have such a good quality car. The car ride was very smooth and leveled, as if there was no bumps on the road.~Minutes later~          “We’re here~!” Dad said. I gaped in awe at the huge modern house that I  was going to live in! It looked like white, black-lined blocks that were placed like a cake, with a balcony surrounding the whole second floor. It was giant, with a fountain in the front and rose bushes neatly kept in the front of house. It looked like one of those houses that I saw in the TV shows. Dad opened the trunk to get my luggage and carried it to the door. Mom unlocked the door and I saw 2 people holding a "Welcome home!“ sign. But, it was unevenly leveled  since a tall man and a short woman was holding it. Like my parents, they were both beautiful, with the woman having a baby face and the man with a friendly smile just like mom."WELCOME HOME YY/NNN!!!” They both said in unison. Then they put down the sign and ran over to give me a hug. This all took me by shock I didn’t know how to react. So much happened all at once. Once they released me I gave them a shy smile and greeted them with a small hi. My parents chuckled while the two proceeded to introduce themselves.“Hello, I am Jeon Jiwoo, but call me Jiwoo. I am close friends with your parents. It’s nice to finally meet you.” The lady said.“ Hey I’m Kim Taehyung, but you can call me J. Seph, Like Jiwoo I am a close friend of your parents, they told me so much about you. I hope you make yourself at home.““… Hi J. Seph and Jiwoo, it’s nice to meet you both. I hope I will get know you guys better.” I said. They both started to awww and give me another hug. Shyly, I hugged them back. It felt like they were two siblings, hugging me. A big, warm, and pleasant hug. This was wonderful. We hugged for a bit longer until mom said,“Okay guys, we have to go grocery shopping. You guys can hang until we get back. Tae, Jiwoo, take good care of my child.” She waved goodbye as her and dad walked out. I couldn’t help but grin when she said that. I am her child. Their child. Wow. “Okay mom. See you later! You too dad!” I waved at them out the door. I could see the sparkle and excitement in their eyes as that was the first time I called them that out loud. A little later,  J. Seph decides to go to the kitchen to make lunch while me and Jiwoo walk around the house. I look around, everything so neat and pristine. It was like an art museum! Jiwoo must have noticed me gawking when she laughed and said, “Pretty nice huh? Here I’ll show you around.” She then walks in front of me likes a tour guide and points at the rooms in the corridor. “ The first one on your right is Somin and BM, aka your Mom and Dad’s room, and the one next to Your room is all the way at the end. My room is across yours, and I gotta warn ya, Seph is quite the snorer. I can hear him from my room!” I laughed and walked into the room. Just like the house, it’s clean and crisp. The walls are a white with gray trim, and the big square carpet along with the bed sheets and pillows are a gray colored silk. The bed was against the windowsill, with drawers beneath the bed. I did a full 360 and saw Jiwoo leaning against the doorway, smiling. “You think that’s impressive? Look up” She said, and so I did. And oH mY I was not prepared for this. A CRYSTAL CHANDELIER. It looked beautiful, like a fountain upside down, suspended in mid-air. As I was gawking, I noticed Jiwoo was motioning to me to come over. She took me throughout the house, showing me the bathrooms, the living room, gaming room, library, and kitchen, where we stopped to eat sandwiches and soup with J. Seph. After that, Jiwoo showed me more rooms until she stopped at one door. “Okay, this is our last stop. I’ve saved the best for last. Are you ready?” Jiwoo asked. I nodded eagerly as she opened the door slowly. I gasped, eyes wide in what I saw. It was the back yard, with morning glory and climbing hydrangea on the white fence, with more rose bushes in the corner and a pond with koi fish surrounded by the shamrock green grass. And on top of that, fairy lights were hanging in the trees. I also noticed a tent covering some tables and chairs along with a BBQ grill. This place is amazing! Jiwoo then pointed to the dining area and said,” That’s where we celebrate events like birthdays, holidays, or just have random barbecues. Now tomorrow, we are celebrating you! It’s a welcoming party since you are a part of the family now.” I looked at Jiwoo and felt tears in my eyes. I gave a wholehearted smile then gave her a tight hug.“I’m so glad I’m in this family.” I said whilst muffled in her shirt. Jiwoo hugged me back and patted my head.“I am too, Y/n. I am too.” I pulled back and saw that we both have tears in our eyes. We both laughed and walked back to the kitchen.         J. Seph was chopping carrots, as he walked in. He looked up at I and Jiwoo and smiled. “ Hey guys! I didn’t see you there,” He put the carrots in a bowl and added seasoning. “ I’m just preparing for the speeeeeciall day tomorrow! It’s a–” “I already told her.” Jiwoo interrupted.  J. Seph looked at her and pouted.“ManNNNN why you gotta ruin everythingggg JiwoO0oo?!” Jiwoo laughed and gave him a light punch.“I don’t know why you gotta be so late at everything?” She remarked. J. Seph stuck out his tongue and Jiwoo did the same. I giggled. They were both like children yapping at each other. Sooner or later they both started to calm down and that’s when J. Seph asked,“ Do you want to help me prep for tomorrow?”“Okay, what can we–wait,” Jiwoo looked at the time on her phone “The laundry is almost done drying and it’s not going to fold itself! Y/n you can go help him okay?” She asked. I nodded, then she smoothed my hair and walked away. That leaves me with J. Seph. I looked at him and he smiled once more. “So, do you know how to chop veggies? We are making a mango veggie salad and grilling beef.” He said. I nodded once more and I got started on the mango. I cut the already peeled mangoes into halves, fourths, and cubes, then put them into a container. Once I was done, J. Seph took the container and put in the freezer. “Frozen fruit is the best fruit” He winked as he closed the freezer door and got back to what he was doing. “ You know you cut pretty good. Who taught you?” J. Seph asked as he turned  to face you.“ The caretakers at the orphanage taught me since I was one of the oldest there. I helped out with cooking and cleaning. What bout you?” I questioned him.“Oh me? Well my father taught me when I was a kid but as I got older I decided to take cooking classes.”“…Oh I’ve never..got to do that...” I whispered. Then I quickly look at him, the floor, and get back to cutting mangoes   J. Seph looks at me with sad eyes and suddenly I felt his snug embrace around me. Again, I froze in shock not knowing whether I should hug him back or say something.“Y/n I’m so sorry if I hurt you I almost forgot about that fact but it’s okay now. We are your family. I know I’m not your father but I’ll teach you everything my father taught me and everything I know. You’ll be my miniature chef okay?” J. Seph said as he was constricting my airways.“O-okay uhhhsdnkiefnd let g-go” I could barely squeak out. He quickly let go and I could breathe in oxygen again. “Whoops…sorry,” J. Seph sheepishly said. “ Okay, let me show you one way to cut lettuce. Do you know what a chiffonade is? He asked. I shook my head in confusion. Could that be luxury brand for something???? “ Well a chiffonade a french technique of cutting. It’s usually used for cutting greens, like lettuce. Let me show you.” J. Seph walked to the pantry  and grabbed a head of lettuce and cut it in half. Then he grabbed one half of the lettuce and folded it in on itself. Once he did that he chopped the half with ease. It was over within a second and all there was left was a pile of ribbon like lettuce. I just stood there eyes wide in amazement. J. Seph laughed and handed the other half to me. “ Here. You try it.” He said. I gave him a blank stare and shyly asked,“C-could you run that again please?”“Haha, yeah sure."  So after that, J. Seph carefully reviewed the process step by step and after that it was actually easier than it looked. I soon  enough became a pro at cutting lettuce “ribbons”. Then, after we cut enough greens, J. Seph brought out different spices and herbs to create a mix of flavors for the chicken to marinate in. He explained to me how different mixes can change the flavor of the chicken and how to be careful to not put too many spices as it can be too strong. After some trial and error, we finally created the right mix and J. Seph took out some small containers full of chicken and handed me a pair of gloves. “Are you ready to get your hands dirty?” J. Seph gave a childish grin. Honestly, no. But I gave him a small while having a feeling on what we were about to do. PLOP! Some chicken to the bowl of spices and herbs. Yup. We were about to give the chickens a final “bath”. I put on my gloves and grabbed a leg. It was.. strange, slimy, and pink. I then set it down into the bowl and covered it with a good amount of our mix. This continued for ages, but I wouldn’t change for the world. With J. Seph, it was pretty fun. We chatted and joked while we seasoned the chicken. Once we were done J. Seph sprinkled some of the mix in the containers full of chicken and put them out of the fridge. I look at the time and see that wow, its 8:32 pm. Mom and Dad aren’t here yet? Strange. I asked J. Seph and he assured me they probably got into some traffic and they will be here soon. He also told me to get ready to rest since we finished all that prep.  Even though it’s around 8:30, I gotta admit I am e x h a u s t e d. Prepping is hard work! I give J. Seph a hug goodnight and I head to the closest bathroom Jiwoo showed me. The shower was a just the right temperature and there was a  new toothbrush and toothpaste container on the sink counter just for me. I got to my room  when I finished and I was so tired I couldn’t bother to change clothes. I just plopped on the bed and conked out.

~Next day~

          “Wakey wakey!” I hear with a knock. “How was your sleep Y/n?” The voice asked. After, I’m a bit more conscious I realized its dad’s voice. I then sat up groggily and responded with a yawn.“It was good. When did you guys come home?” I asked as I got up and stretched. Man that was a GOOD sleep. “ Oh it was about 9 at night. Sorry we came late, you see on the way home I saw a deer laying in the middle of the street. Poor thing, it had broken its leg somehow so we had to take it to the nearest animal hospital,” Dad explained, then saw my worried face and quickly said, “Thankfully it’s okay now.” I nodded and proceeded to walk toward the bathrooms to go pee. “Oh and look what Somin left on the shower door for you!” He shouted across the hall. For me? I wonder what it is. I quickly rush to the bathroom now and I gasped. It was a beautiful summer outfit with a cream bottom and a teal colored top along with a brown belt. Beside it was a note. It said,   ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥  ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥  ♡  Hope you like it!! Jiwoo and I picked it out just for you. Get ready and meet us in the backyard.XOXO, Mom 💜♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♥  ♡

I smiled and admired the outfit. Man how could I be blessed with such great parents? Ok Y/n, celebrate later. Now, get ready! Hurriedly, I brushed my teeth, washed my face and brushed my hair to see them. Once I was done I exited the room with a smile on my face and walked down the hall filled with sunlight. This reminds me of the yesterday, with the sun shining me and my new family greeting me. Soon enough we get to the door. I slowly open the door and see Dad, Mom, and Jiwoo seated while J. Seph manages the grill. I then noticed a ‘Welcome Home Y/n!’ banner above them hanging from the trees. I grin and laugh. So this is my new backyard, my new home, and my new....

Family.

-Admin Rubz, I hope you guys liked it! Sorry it took so long :/

[silencedlittlebirdy]

Conquering a World: Part 2

There were only three other houses, putting us at a total of thirteen people. The youngest was a 5th grader, and the oldest was Chad’s father, Mike Findlay, who was about 58. We had two construction workers, two landscapers, an OB-GYN, a nurse, a farmer, and a Veterinarian. Add to that Ava as a secretary with excellent managerial skills, and my weird combo of degrees as a Forester and Botanist and we had enough skills to allow us to survive for a good stretch of time if we worked together. “You’re a what?” Chad asked. “Forester…and botanist. I deal with plants and nature. The purple grass here tastes like lemon, and smells like lemon pine-sol, if you were curious.” I stroked Gigi’s ears, keeping myself distracted. “Guess they actually had some method to their madness. A plant person, an animal person, two medical personnel, two construction workers, a farmer, and someone with excellent organizational skills. They plan for us to be out here. To conquer this world for them.” “They said settle it. I don’t know how much more settled we can get, other than getting a lot more food in the works.” Patricia Ledford, the veterinarian, was holding her youngest daughter, Kelsey—the fifth grader. She seemed to have a nervous disposition. Granted, normally I couldn’t form a coherent sentence when I was in a group this size. I was just so…done. “It’ll take us a while to figure out what’s edible here. We’ve got some stray corn that came with our house, and our vegetable patch. We also have a bunch of seeds. Our garden needs to be weeded, desperately, but I can probably identify the weeds and discern what can be used first. I know we have some food. Generator is solar powered, sump pump is powered by the water that runs through it…not that it matters since we have no idea what they did with the pipes…” We were in the Findlay’s house since they had the biggest area to gather in, and I could tell that their construction business had been successful. Walter McNeal, the OB-GYN and single dad of Juliet, who was a freshman in high school, shook his head, “We don’t even know if we’ll be here long. What if we get put back tomorrow?” He was rubbing his forehead. I glanced at Ava, wondering if she remembered the story that my brother had told us of the…problem that came about when some aliens had taken an entire city. By the time it had been returned…twenty years had passed. Chad shook his head, “The Fraxaplilliiannun race stole a city thirty years ago, it took twenty years for the government to get them back and the city was a major thing. Four random houses and thirteen people? Low priority, especially since none of us are politicians or celebrities. None of us are working on government projects. We’re…” “Dispensable.” Ava got up and got another scoop of ice cream. “Thirteen people. We have to survive until we do get out of here.” Mike Findlay frowned at the ceiling, “We’ll have to see if the wood here burns. We’ve got enough to power our wood heater for a couple months, but we have no idea how long we’ll need it.” I glanced around at everyone, then shrugged, “No point in sitting around, I’m going to go set up a place to test the local flora. Here’s hoping that tests that worked on earth will work here.” I got up and headed for the door. “You should assess the plant life we have from home first.” Ava caught my arm, “I’ll start looking at the pantry, fridge, and freezer, but you’re better with plants than landscapers would be. You’re always ranting about how landscapers use invasive species.” I tilted my head in a sort of nod, “True, never thought I’d be grateful for invasive species like the ones in three out of four of the yards. I’ll let you all guess which yard doesn’t have invasive plant species. Fine, I’ll look at what plants are in the yards, make a list and then give it to you. Then I’ll set up a testing lab.” “I’ll go with you, write down what you list. It should make things faster.” “I have a list of the trees and flowers planted here,” Chad offered. “Give it. I’ll still need to look at the weeds, but that should at least help.” I waited while he got that. “I can look at the animals we have, make sure they’re all healthy before moving on to trying to find local animals.” Patricia offered. Ava nodded, “Just be careful going into our house. We have three cats, and a dog in there.” Patricia nodded. “I suppose I should see what medical supplies I have,” Walter rubbed his head again. “I’ll help.” Beatrice Findlay said softly. She was the nurse. “Permission to go through the rest of your medical supplies?” “Go ahead, anything to help.” John Ledford put an arm around his wife. “I’ll look at the houses, make sure they’re sound. Same with the barns or sheds. Andy can help,” Mike said, nodding to his younger son. “Juliet, Kevin, can you watch the girls?” Kevin nodded, “Sure mom, we’ll keep them in the basement. Safest place right now, right?” We were all nodding. “Yeah, we can have them color or something for a while. And I have a portable DVD player that should still be fully charged. We can at least get two movies out of it.” Juliet got up, pulling Talia up with her. “I’ll walk them over,” John told the rest of us. “Just holler if you need me to do anything.” I nodded sharply, taking the list from Chad and glancing over it. “Norway maple, of course.” I headed out the door with Ava right behind me. “Were you serious?” “About?” “Making the aliens pay?” She asked, glancing back toward the house. “Mostly,” I responded, “But I guess I was also just thinking about how…what the heck is that?” She followed my gaze to the monstrous pink and purple fuzzy thing that was about the size of an elephant, and looked like a dolphin had grown legs and fur, gotten a rhino horn, and a second mouth, as well as a tongue the size of a compact car. “Heavens to betsy…” I breathed, “Patricia! Get out here!” Everyone came. Everyone stared. “Mom…how do we find out if it’s friendly?” Talia Ledford asked. She was in seventh grade, so about twelve years old. “We see if it attacks us.” Ava nudged me, “Fred is coming around the house.” I groaned, “Stupid rooster, we need him.” Fred Astaire, our rooster, spotted the large thing and crowed, then started his attack on the thing that was about a thousand times larger. The thing followed Fred’s movement, then went back to sniffing our garage. Okay…thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of insane bravery. I just needed thirty seconds. I went forward, slowly. Still holding my baseball bat. The creature must have smelled me, it looked my way, then boomed closer. I looked up at it, still moving myself. It moved when I kept moving, staying a few feet away at all times. Finally, I stopped, and turned toward it. It moved closer, just a bit. Then carefully leaned down to smell me. I held out a hand. It didn’t move back. I stepped forward and touched it’s furry snout. It was like those super fuzzy blankets. It finally straightened up, and walked off, careful to avoid me and Fred. It lumbered into the forest, making a path that we could easily follow. I turned back to the others, “Good news…it didn’t eat me.” They were all looking at me like I was insane. I was starting to think they were right. Ava came over, “That was stupid.” “I know,” I said, “I’m scared out of my mind, I think. Let’s focus on our job. I need to focus on something.” Plants were a good distraction. They were what would probably be keeping us alive. For once it was a good thing we hadn’t waited to get out canning supplies. Ava had wanted to do pickles and try to can tomatoes, maybe pickle some peppers. Make salsa. Ava pushed me toward the house, “Come on, before we do anything, let’s put some of our canned foods into the panic room. I’ll explain why later.” I nodded, “I think I understand why, but it’s best if we get on the same page later.” We moved the canned goods that had the furthest expiration dates into the panic room and closed it off. “You still have the pain killers from getting your wisdom teeth out?” Ava asked. I frowned, then nodded, “Yeah, they’re in my nightstand. Think we need to put them in here, for emergencies?” “I’m expecting full blown panic.” She froze, “What’s that sound?” I shook my head and darted up the stairs and outside. “RESIDENTS WILL WELCOME DOCUMENTARIAN OF THE  PQNXALLAXIS DOMAIN! GOOD DAY AND MAY THE GODS OF THE  PQNXALLAXIS DOMAIN SMILE UPON YOU!” I froze as an alien transported to the spot in between our yard and the Findlay’s. This one was different from the species that had been in our back yard earlier today. That one had been like a praying mantis and a Jaaarskil had a demon. This one was more like a Triwlkaan, which was like a gecko and a springer spaniel, but it also looked like the cheetah-like race of Riichalka. “Greetings, I am Traaiillooonn. I am a documentarian for the Pqnxallaxis Domain.” The alien had a breathy voice, and finished it’s statement with a whistle. “That’s not a word,” I said, officially fed up. “Pardons?” “Documentarian is not a word. You’re a documenter, not a documentarian.” I folded my arms, “Let me guess, we’re supposed to feed you and house you? Well, guess again. We were brought here against our will, we’re not going to cooperate with anything you try to force on us.” “Interesting first statement,” Traaiillooonn murmured, marking something on it’s device. “But did not your government authorize the Pqnxallaxis Domain to select their team to settle this world?” “What?” Ava asked. “It says in the Richter Accords, the Pqnxallaxis domain may select a team of four households and all things therein to settle planets of interest provided they give the information previously collected to the residents selected.” Traaiillooonn was consulting it’s device. I closed my eyes, realizing exactly what the alien was saying. We would never go home.

@riptidethepen 

[leepennino]

The Sky Sucks

I must have been 5 or 6 years old, sitting outside on the sidewalk of my only childhood home. A pink house, that my mother and father - who tirelessly restored it called “MAUVE” and what the rest of our tiny town of 3,000 people in Momence, Illinois called “Embarassing”. We were an outsider family in this town of people who’s familial lineage ran so deep and they farmed all the land around us for all the years it’s been a farmtown.  There were the Johnsons, the Gilberts, the Murrays and everyone else who was related to them. We were the Goodrich’s from Chicago and the only family we had, who we followed to Momence were the Gobervilles. 

The Gobervilles literally lived on the other side of the tracks... 4 sets of railroad tracks that kept them far away from the rest of the town. All the houses on that side of town were pretty disheveled and most of the residents were unemployed. When we visited our cousins, in their dark dank house we felt like we were in a scary world very far from the christian farm town we had known. Kids literally ran around the streets without shoes and often had dirt on their clothes and faces, not because they hadn’t bathed but most yards on the East Side had no grass. This is the deepest part of the midwest where people actually somehow got southern accents and were pregnant by the age of 13. 

As I sat on the sidewalk my dad popped out of the house and said “Mom says I have to go and take you for a haircut, let’s go.”

My mom thought of me as her little princess.. which, I know sounds really lame and someone growing up with that usually turns out equally as lame. When I was this age I still had my baby blonde hair that was barely ever cut, it hung long down to my butt and I had bright blue eyes. My mom was obsessed with me, always showering me with compliments and “you’re so pretty” “You’re my little angel”  She was a bit obsessed with me, as all moms are I’m sure. But, my mom was especially in love- in a weird selfish way. I believed her words of “You’re my favorite, don’t tell anyone I said that” landed on me because I looked exactly like her. At an early age I knew this was probably not a cool thing to say to one child of three. And, anyway.. my brother and my sister were actually the coolest ones. I looked to them for everything, companionship, playtime, their cool clothes, my sister’s crimped hair, the way she danced to MTV and my brother’s room filled with black and blue toys instead of pink and flesh colored like mine. Jim and Julie had cool friends and even shared a pet iguana named Beavis. So, when I sat down in the salon chair,  6 year old Adi decided she needed a change, and something very ‘cool.’

Across from me in the salon were the normal posters, showing various styled and cut hair to inspire the customer to be brave and try something new. There were men with flat tops, shaved heads with all sorts of designs on the sides of their heads, lightning bolts, the Bull’s logo and zig zags. And there was one poster that really stood out. It was a large poster, a glamour shot of a woman on a deep black background. Small blips of light like lazers behind her. She looked at me with a confidence that said “ you can be this if you try” She had purple eyeshadow, very blue eyes and black eyeliner that accentuated them like a lioness. Her cheeks were airbrushed with glitter and a fade from coral to pink ending with white high on her cheekbones. And her hair, that’s what really won me over. It wasn’t long and soft and blonde like mine, it was dark, short and spikey. This woman was hot. She was sexy and she looked like a renegade. This woman was pretty much everything I currently was not, especially in my mom’s eyes. This woman on the poster could never be called a princess and I wanted to embody her look of dissident. 

When the high-school aged hair dresser sat me down and draped a vinyl cape over me I knew what I was going to do. 

“Just a trim, huh Dad?” She said looking to my dad for approval. 

“Yeah.” 

I slowly and confidentally kept my gaze to the poster lady’s eyes and squeeked out in my tiny voice “ No, I want that.” and pointed to the poster. 

“Oh... what?” The hair dresser questioned. 

“Dad, I want my hair like hers.” Pointing to the poster. 

My dad walked over, kneeled next to me and put his head beside mine to make sure my gaze wasn’t looking at the poster directly next to it, an image of a small girl with ribbons in her hair. 

He saw what I saw, the 30 something super model with lazers behind her. “Honey, are you sure?”

“Yes.”

So, the teen hair dresser lopped my hair off quicker than I thought possible. She kept me pointed away from the mirror, likely knowing I’d squeel to see my blonde locks disappearing. When she spun me around and I looked at myself I immediately knew I looked GOOD. I not only looked good, I looked hot and new and my blonde hair was surprisingly gone. The inch long hair was now only my brown roots, they had been awaiting this day and new era of cool rebellion. 

My dad helped me up into his 1991 Ford Ranger and I rolled the window down to feel the summer breeze on my newfound neck and ears on the short ride home, down the town’s single main drag, Dixie Highway to our Mauve home on Maple St. 

My dad brought me home to a puzzled and hysterical mother that didn’t know what to do with her daughter that now looked like her son. I felt pretty dumb. 

Every few weeks we’d head up to Chicago an hour away from Momence going a full 60 miles an hour for 60 minutes to visit Grandma Dorothy. My grandma lived in a house that had zero rules or restrictions. We did and ate anything we wanted and we were often accompanied with the Goberville cousins, John, Tony and Robbie. 

Dorothy had endless amounts of Fannie Mae candies, oreo cookies, ice cream and cases of RC Cola stacked on the steps to the basement. She aimed to keep us hydrated and happy with whatever we wanted. Dorothy isn’t the grandma to make home made meals and she had an extra freezer in the basement filled with Sam’s Club frozen Veggie Lasagna, Family sized Turtle Cheesecakes, Chicken Kievs and other easy to prepare meals and desserts for 6-10 people.  

Back in Momence, my dad mowed the lawn, drank beer and sat on a new maroon leather couch while my mom cried and threw all of my lacy outgrown dresses in the trash. In Chicago, we were LIVING THE LIFE. 

It was a standard 90 degree Midwestern summer day. Hotter than any other place on planet earth and the humidity made the tiny hairs on our faces drip with sweat.  My grandfather, Sonzo, ran a small power washing business.  So, while he was power washing semi-trucks needing a clean on their way across America, we kids would run the place and our grandma would read romantic novels. Grandpa’s equipment was always something we’d get into. He had  large 500 gallon drums that served as pools for us kids in the summer. Pools that were strapped on the back of a pull-behind trailer, but they still were mini pools. 

As we were splashing and playing my first-ever real life crush, Keith, the neighbor came by. He didn’t notice me and I didn’t really care until I realized he probably didn’t recognize me with my new haircut. I also realized I was not being babied in the way I normally was. The boys were treating me like a normal human, allowing me to splash and scream. They weren’t lifting me out of the pool as they generally would, they weren’t telling me to go inside and hang out with grandma on the couch.  As I was putting two and two together I realized I was finally in!  In the club, the club of being loud and crazy and filled with a summer’s rage that could not be stopped.

 I kind of figured my new haircut had something to do with it all. I asked my brother “Hey, Jim, do I look like a boy” And he kind of shrugged me off and replied “Yeah, I guess so”. Oh my god.. I AM A BOY! I instantly remember taking off my shirt and I felt like I was one of them, splashing away bare chested and having the most fun I had ever had at grandma’s house. We played and played and I laughed and knew I would never be dismissed again thanks to the poster woman I was now a fierce kid that everyone accepted and loved. 

As the sun began to set and the air grew colder we put the top back on the water drum and ran inside to grab as many fudgcicles we could eat. We sat in the backyard gobbling away the ice cream bars. I was so calm, happily I looked up at the sky and said with my new found confidence. “This Sucks!” Everything went silent. This seems like a simple word to be used by kids, but this was not what a 6 year old Adi Goodrich was supposed to say. The Gobervilles used that kind of language freely, but not us, not the Goodrichs. We were the good cousins that obeyed the adults and would never use poor language. I obviously had no idea what that word even meant looking up happily at the clouds. My brother shrieked as I said it. “ADI!” Scolding me like a parent would normally do. I was embarrassed and felt my coolness slowly disolving. Jon, Tony and Robbie began laughing and I felt my eyes instantly moisten. Trying to keep it together I dropped my head and became quiet. They all noticed my instant embarrassment and started making fun of me “Aw, Adi baby is cryyying” “Poor baby!” Jim, being the good brother he was put his arms around me and assured me it was okay “Adi, it’s okay, but you can’t say things like that.” And, I lost it.. I began weeping and I left my ice cream on the table and went inside to find Dorothy. I bursted through the door screaming and crying. She probably thought I was hurt saying “What’s wrong, what happened” I couldn’t obviously tell her “ I said a bad word and now I”m not a cool again” So I blurted out “they called me a boy!” and I continued to cry. “awwwww...Adi, it’s okay, I love your new haircut! It’s like mine! Don’t you think grandma is pretty? You look like me! You don’t look like a boy” She put her hands on my shoulders looked square at me and said “We just need to fix it up a bit.” 

I’m assuming all good midwestern grandma’s are the same.. all having a handy salon ready in their bathroom. You could curl, dye, crimp, cut and style anyone at anytime you needed to without spending too much at the salon. So, my grandma placed a vinyl cap with tiny holes on my head and described ‘tipping’ to me. “It’s just a little bit of blonde pops, we’ll dye it and then we’ll curl it. Those boys are going to love your new hair.”  She proceeded by using a tiny hook to pull out portions of my hair to dye. I sat for 45 minutes with a strong smell of chemicals eating away my new brown hair. After the dye set she permed my hair, more chemicals and more sitting in the bathroom. Dorothy smoked her long Viceroy cigarettes the entire time. She washed and dried my hair and styled it with a little mouse. I looked into the mirror with my grandma saying “Isn’t it cute, you look like Shirley Temple! Oh my god, you look just like her! You look adorable” I looked at my self in the mirror with horror and back to my grandma and realized that I didn’t look like Shirley Temple at all. What I looked like was a 65 year old Grandma Goberville with a puff on top of my head that was peppered with bits of bright blonde curls. I did not feel sexy or mysterious or cool, I felt like an old woman inside a 6 year old body. And I no longer felt like an honorary neighborhood kid in the boys club. 

I smiled a tiny smile of embarrassment and remained silent as my proud grandma brought me down the carpeted stairs, into the cigarette smelling kitchen, pushing open the metal 1970′s era door, walking me down along the house, down the long sidewalk to the backyard where all the boys were lounging in the sun. I joined all my cousins and brother on the pavement and sat down quietly hoping they wouldn’t notice.. Jim said it looked nice and as soon as my grandma left my cousin Tony hit it perfectly with the most current 90′s pop culture reference. “Adi! You’re Boy Meets World!” AKA Ben Savage.

Back home to Momence, I arrived to an even more startled mother who said she was going to murder Dorothy and I felt a quivering guilt for my grandma’s untimely death. I went to bed feeling like a total loser and awoke to a dress hanging in my room. 

“Put your dress on, Adi, it’s picture day today!” My mom added a bit of mouse that my grandma packed for me and I was off to school resembling Ms. Ostrow my elderly school teacher as I walked into the room. Somehow no one really cared about my new haircut and sat in front of the camera with my tiny smile, faking confidence. 

My portrait is of a 6 year old girl looking a bit uncomfortable, nothing new for this age of school-portraits. I wore a denim dress with tiny red heart shaped buttons going down my chest. In that picture I can see myself dreaming of the day I’d swim in the water and look up at the sky happy as can be and say “this Sucks!”

[hcpeek]

Dear Grandpa

These letters were written as a small tribute to the author’s late grandfather, a wonderful man beloved by his family.

March 25

Dear Grandpa,

How have you been? I know it’s still cold out (make sure you bundle up for your afternoon walk!), but I’m sure spring is on the way. I know you and Grandma love the cherry blossoms in particular around this time of year.

But the snow has its charms, doesn’t it? I remember how, when I was small, you used to point out the snowflakes to me as they floated down onto the window pane. Then the delicate little crystals would melt away into blobs of water and I’d get upset, so you would tell me, “Don’t worry, look how many more there are,” to which I would stubbornly respond, “But they’re not the same!” “Ah, yes, that’s right,” you’d say with a thoughtful nod, “but this water will one day fall as snow again, just as all living things are reborn after returning to the earth.”

Yes, I totally agree. But did you seriously think that kind of philosophy would get through to a distraught five-year-old? Well, all’s well that ends well, since you’d give me hot cocoa to shut me up afterward.

And all six of us cousins would play in the snow together - when did we stop doing that? It’s been so long. Aunt Susan and Uncle David had you watch us in the yard as we threw snowballs around and tackled each other in the huge piles of snow shoveled off to the side of the driveway. It was fun back then, when we were all carefree children. Suddenly, half of us became full-time college students living on-campus, and the other half graduated into working adults actively contributing to society. Time really flies!

Speaking of college, I’m sure you’re wondering how my first semester went. Don’t tell Mom and Dad, but the best part was living away from home. Freedom from tyranny! Going out whenever I felt like it, meeting new people left and right - finally, a real social life! Oh, don’t worry, I spent plenty of time bonding with my textbooks, too. You know me, Grandpa. I’ve always been a model student!

Lots of love,

Jenny

May 09

Dear Grandpa,

I told you the weather would warm up soon! Global warming sure is something.

Not much to report on my end for now. The grass is green, the sky is blue, and the motorcyclists have come out of hibernation. Oh yes, and the cherry blossom trees around here are in full bloom.

Do you like the flowers Ryan brought you? He says he picked out red lilies, claiming they’re your favorites, but you and I both know those are really Mom’s favorites. I can’t believe he got it mixed up! I hope you don’t mind. My brother’s a bit absent-minded, but he’s always thinking about the family. We all are, as you know.

Every time I remember the story about how you and Grandma came over to America, I feel so lucky to have been born here. It’s the kind of story that makes you warm inside. Poor immigrants from Hong Kong with no money, but an endless supply of grit and more tenacity than the cockroaches in your Chinatown apartment - true American Dreamers! Now, everyone is living comfortably here in the suburbs of New Jersey and in want of absolutely nothing (except maybe a slightly higher GPA, for some of us).

Grandpa, you’ll always be a role model for our family. I am beyond proud to be your granddaughter, and I hope it would make you happy to hear that you are my hero.

Love and hugs,

Jenny

June 12

Dear Grandpa,

Did Matt tell you the big news? He’s…getting married this summer! Finally, after nearly three decades of bachelorhood! I’m so excited - the family is growing! Maybe soon I’ll be an aunt (or a second cousin or a something-or-other removed? Not sure how that works), and you’ll be promoted to great grandpa! Not that you weren’t already great, of course.

The only problem is that I can’t make it to the wedding. So frustrating! O, Life, why must you be so cruel?!

I’m just kidding. It’s alright, I’m sure they’ll take plenty of photos.

I think my earliest memory is of being a flower girl at Aunt Grace’s wedding. I was three or four years old then and already a troublemaker! Someone handed me a pink helium balloon, and, as you might have guessed, I accidentally let it go floating up into oblivion. So because I refused to stop crying, Uncle Richard, the poor groom, had to run around looking for another one before the ceremony. At least we laughed about it during the years after that. Maybe one of the unofficial requirements for joining our family should be a good sense of humor. Come to think of it, I wonder what kind of flower petals I scattered down the aisle - cherry blossom, perhaps?

I know I just said I was excited about the family getting some new members, but sometimes I’m afraid it’ll become too large to operate as a single unit. We always went on vacations together in a huge group, whether it was a day trip to the beach or the long drive up to Canada or down to Florida, or even the flight to China. When we went out for dim sum on the weekends, everyone managed to squeeze into a large round table, shoulder-to-shoulder. But if there are too many relatives, how could everyone possibly coordinate with each other? Will everyone keep in touch? Won’t the family branch out and split apart, like the cracks in a weathered vase?

I’m sorry, this isn’t the most pleasant topic, but lately I’ve had quite a bit of time to think. The thoughts go round and round in my head, and I have no one I can share them with. Grandpa, I’m glad I can at least write to you like this.

With love,

Jenny

July 16

Dear Grandpa,

Ack, it’s summer. The season of sweat and mosquitoes, internships and part-time jobs. I’ve got nothing planned right now, but Liam’s lifeguarding again this year, and Ryan is interning someplace I’ve never heard of. Summer really makes me appreciate modern conveniences like air conditioning and freezers that let you store ice cream in the midst of sweltering heat.

On the bright side, it’s almost my birthday! I’ll be 19 years old. Two more years until legal drinking age and a horizontal driver’s license! Not that I’d be any good at making use of either of those privileges. I scare people when I drive. Dad can testify to that. As for alcohol, I don’t think I’d like the taste. But these things are another step toward adulthood!

It’s so hot that the daisies someone planted here are wilting. What a shame. This is why flowering trees are nice: you know they’ll bloom again and again, year after year.

Hey, Grandpa, let’s see the cherry blossoms together with everyone next spring. At least, with anyone who can come. They’re all too busy for these kinds of “frivolous” activities.

Or so I say, but I used to be like that too. I was always brushing off friends to go study or work on college applications. By the time graduation rolled around, I found myself alone in a sea of celebrating, laughing faces, yet none of them were directed toward me.

How foolish I was back then!

I bet you’d say something about how friends are important in getting through life, that they’ll be there for support in hard times. Now I wish that I hadn’t been so self-centered, that I had reached out to more people and let them reach out to me while I had the chance. Well, it’ll be fine.

I’ll be fine.

Love and best wishes,

Jenny

September 27

Dear Grandpa,

Autumn is the most beautiful time of year, in my humble opinion. The fiery colors of the leaves - aren’t they breathtaking? I feel inspired to go and do something.

Remember how we’d all rake the leaves in your yard together? It was hard work, but it was fun with everyone pitching in. Oh, and then Mom wouldn’t let us jump in the leaf piles because there were probably all kinds of bugs in there. Gotta love Mom.

Why do we rake away the leaves, but allow the cherry blossoms to remain where they’ve fallen? Is it because they’re flowers? Even they will eventually lose their lovely color and rot away into the ground.

Grandpa, I’m sure we all miss those days, but no amount of wishing will ever return things to how they once were. It won’t bring anyone back.

Love,

Jenny

November 03

Dear Grandpa,

You know, it’s been quite a while now, so I wish everyone would smile as often as they used to. I’m sure you’d agree. You’d probably say that all lives come to an end, and that someday we’ll be reborn as the wild plants that sprout up, full of vigor, from the spot where we were laid to rest. Well, I suppose you’d want to be a cherry blossom tree. It’s fitting - strong, wise, and proof of a beautiful existence.

Celebrate the life rather than mourn the loss! All stories must have their conclusion.

Yes, it is normal. It is natural. But I still miss you.

Love always,

Jenny

December 18

Dear Grandpa,

The temperature has been dropping recently. It doesn’t bother me so much, but how are you holding up? Dress in layers and drink hot soup! That’s what Grandma used to tell me.

I wonder how everyone is doing. Are they studying? Working? Eating and sleeping properly? Wow, I sound like you - and I’m glad for it. Thank you for all you’ve taught me; thank you for the best eighteen years I could have asked for.

Slowly but surely, the members of our family are moving on with their lives. That’s a good thing. Let’s pray for everyone to live on in happiness and success. I hope the next generation experiences the same love and care that was bestowed upon me and my cousins by all you wonderful parents and grandparents.

Love to all,

Jenny

January 30

Dear Grandpa,

Well. It’s been a full year now since I left you all behind. I miss you from the bottom of my heart. I’m sorry, I wish I could’ve stuck around longer. I didn’t want to go. I’m sorry for making everyone so sad - did you know I’ve never seen my brother cry before?

Grandpa, to pass the time I pretend I’m writing these letters, even though no one will ever be able to read them. It makes me feel like I’ll be able to see everyone soon, as though I’m simply away at college and will be home for the holidays.

I still wanted to go on vacations with everyone. I wanted to go out for dim sum. I wanted to rake leaves in the fall and play in the snow in the winter. I wanted to hold my cousins’ children and be called Auntie and just stay with my big, beautiful family for another 80 years.

I wanted to live, surrounded by the people I love more than anything in the world.

What is a single life in the face of unyielding time? Some might say it is insignificant, some might say it is ugly, but I say it is nothing short of extraordinary. To be born into this world with a beating heart and to shine as brightly as you can with as much time as you are given - what could possibly be more beautiful? It is reflected in the cherry blossoms so dear in our memories: transient in their beauty and beautiful in their transience.

And what would you say, Grandpa, in a situation like this? “Don’t cry, Jenny. We’ll all be together again before you know it.” All right, Grandpa, if you say so. Take your time in coming, but when you get here, tell me all about everything I’ve missed.

And then we’ll wait, for all eternity, for our family.

Love till the end of the world,

Jenny

~ Anonymous (’21, HC)

[propracticegurveerpadhal]

Presentation and feedback

For my presentation I did a pitch for the Ian Perry Scholarship. The power point should be linked bellow. Overall I think I had decent ideas but my presentation was way of, I had way too much information to the point it became confusing as to what I was trying to pitch, I should have been more succinct and clear. I had to have two ideas to pitch and I think the one based in Africa should be my first personal project after I get my company going, I have been setting up places to stay and events I need to go to so Overall I feel positive about the experience, my pitch needs tightening but my ideas are strong.    

My presentation should be linked where i submitted.      

Speech

For my project I want to present the lives of immigrant employees who are doing the minimum wage jobs in a Varity of conditions but all gruelling In west London. This will involve me working in these places and actually building real relationships with my sitters. I will be getting these jobs in mostly Asian and Somali areas because I would like to emphasise people of colour in this project but that doesn’t mean I wont use European sitters also. My Close aunt being a Hindi and Punjabi translator I have always been exposed to the realties of working class immigration.

  The reason why I chose this project was because of my first job, which was working in an extremely rundown corner shop, although the conditions where a bit Grimy I found a strong sense of community lay there, they where still giving people tabs until the end of the week, and the check out was almost like a Jamaican Hairdressers, people always coming in for a chat. But what struck me was the preparation before opening, when the sun was still rising I would have to set up the fruit stand and carry deliveries into a very run down walk in freezer, I loved how the shop looked at that time, it was like a twilight zone. Then I worked in a garage in the slough trading estates, learning car body repair, I was apprenticing under a Hungarian gentlemen who spoke hardly any English and grew frustrated when he could not explain things. He would offer me Cigarettes and talk about his frustrations with he 6-day workweek. In the engine shop there was a person called Happy Singh and yes he was exactly as jolly as you are expecting, he also works a 6 day work week. It is interesting how people’s inner selves slowly reveal themselves after hours and hours of grinding labour. But I would also like to represent these people in their homes. Because as well as it portraying the life style, their mental state, money situation and also eccentricities.

 My first Job will be the first job I ever had again but the owner has since become some what of a king pin of Jersey Parade (the row of shops where the shop is located), he now owns 4 other shops on the same road and sold others, Him and his family live above these shops and he is currently trying to drive out a butchery on the road with his own butchery one shop over from them. As Wealthy as this man seems, this is much more a story about a constant struggle from nothing into his little suburban empire. This man and his family lives above a shop that they have ben working everyday for the last 20 years and didn’t get help until 5 years ago. He still speaks in broken English but he built many businesses and thrived in England.

 These people stories need to be told because I feel like there are many unsung heroes in everyone local areas and many pillars that make home feel like home but also as a contrast the story of many working class immigrants particularly in the Asian population of west London is one of displacement, Particularly in the 80s when the national front was challenging Asian communities with the support of the police when things where particularly intense in India. You would see a lot of Sikh people involved in protests during this time in areas like Southall because it is in the warrior nature of Sikhi but also because of the Indian government raid and destroying bits of the golden temple and assassinating A Sikh khalistani leader. Being a Sikh Myself I have always found the community comes together more then most weather it be melas, religious events or defending Temples from being stoned by white power nationalists.

 I will be getting jobs such as big to small Indian cash and carries, dock yard work, ware house work in Southall, cheap hotel cleaning, barbers, car washes and also immigrant women who support families with a cash in hand maid service. Which There are in a shocking abundance. I want to also explore the world of casual jobs and I will try and find odd ones in the classified ads in shop windows.

There are a lot of new immigrants who often are sleeping on the streets for months at a time, they have started congregating around the increasing industrial abandoned spaces in some areas, car parks to. Creating temporary pop up shanty towns at night in these places, most of them have been con-ed into believe they have job security by crooked travel agents in their countries, this reminds me of the dust bowl era in America.

 This illustrates why I need to do this project. With Brexit and also the current situation in America. We have not fully humanized working class immigrants, Often over exoticfitation is a poor excuse for progress. I want to appeal to the human empathy photography can produce, often borders can make people feel violated and have a need to ostracizes foreign people to maintain a sense of security. But I want to represent a side of England that are its stomach folds, the Gaffa tape no one sees. In Looking into the writer James Joyce, I have been inspired to represent the multiplicity in life through the language of my fellow local people.

 I will use the money allocated to me to pay my sitters, lenses, and film. I will also need to rent Medium Format film cameras for a few shoots inside the home. For quality sake but also it would legitimise my practice, it would be hard to be mistaken for a immigration detective with a mamiya. Aside from the budget this scholarship would really legitimise my practice. It would certainly give  me a more convincing reason to ask these people for their portraits, these delicate subjects cant be achieved by a passer by, it comes from building good bases with real people. I will be staying at home so the money I get for from the jobs will go to very discounted rent and travel expenses, 3 or more of these jobs would barely even get you ends meet, aside from the access I already have this is another reason why this scholarship would help.

 This would perfectly set me up for my next project. Which would be based on amateur rallying in Kenya but also a few others in Africa. Which is a massive deal to the Sikh community in Kenya. My family is 3 generations Kenyan and nearly everyone we know there are involved In motor sports somehow. This has been a proud tradition in the Sikh community since the 1940s and has grown ever since. The Sikh Community in Kenya are extremely well connected, everyone knows everyone. I will split my time in between Nairobi and Kisumu. And will stay with family and in my families farmhouse In Kisumu. Kisumu is an interesting place to start because it is split in between the hands on farmers and the contactors who often live very bourgeois lives. Everyone lives in their own compound and it is their own micro universe. The farmers have huge lots of lands and very eccentric houses, planning permission isn’t as strict there and people start driving by the age of 12. Nearly everyone there is an entrepreneur of some sorts. These spaces and visual language is like nothing I have ever seen before the wealth divide is crazy but the lives that the middle classes are like what billionaires do here. As well as the rally it self I want to focus on the characters that peruse it, and the almost village like aspects of this community. Although houses and land are extremely sparse in Kenya everyone congregates in the Gudwara in town and catches up, this is where the community is realised, a lot of networking also goes on there, if your family is known there they almost kill you with hospitality, this is why I think I have supreme access. My grandfather was a photographer and directed the first Swahili movie Milavi and also the second. He also shot the news for KBC and dabbled in Journalism. I will also assist his friend who has been documenting the races since the mid 50s, there are 2 photographer that I will be learning from in the field, although they have been shooting the days at the race I want to go further and capture the peoples lives who are big players in these events. This project makes sense for me to do and with this scholarships name and exposure, I will be legitimate enough to publish these grand stories with out being to invasive.

 I will start this project with my neighbour who lives 2 miles away. The Brar family who own a huge farm. They have had a difficult five years but their only son Satthi has had to have several reconstructive surgeries on his shoulder due to a crash. His father Billay lives on a huge compound, which also contains his brother’s house. He is someone else I want to photograph.

 He owns a mechanics workshop which looks straight out of the 50s. He is a very eccentric person to say the least he has over 40 monkeys who live around his house, they all have names and he loves and feeds them every day, they also have a zoo you can see while you pull up in the drive way. This place almost doesn’t seem real. By contrast I will be shooting some family friends The Baryans who own the biggest transpiration company in Kenya, Multiple Transportation. Their eldest son Manvir is an avid rally driver, he drives for Team Multiple. He has recently won first place in last years Kisumu cup. He is particularly close with my dad and a personal friend to me growing up. His best friend Babu was recently killed in a race they where both in. I personally knew him also; this project would be in dedication to Babu. Although what happened to his body was horrific, the passion In Manvir and the rest of the rallying community has not been diminished and is still stronger then ever. Much like James Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake I want the project to constantly shift perspectives of all the different people involved with creating this community and the pillars that lead and shape to this die hard love for a motor sport. I am trying to portray all these different accounts while I tie them together to form a portrait of a place. A simulacra of a way of living un-fathomable by most.