#discussed it with Aubrey and I will be blowing up this building

[theglowingeyeballz]

Someone please put me into a cryo pod

(Click for better quality cuz tumblr keeps stealing it)

(Close ups)

[omegatheunknown]

AEW ALL OUT 2021

In which, not to get ahead of myself here, AEW puts on one of the best major wrestling shows in several years*, following the simple yet effective principle of giving the people what they want and sending everyone home happy and hungry for more.

- The incredibly 'Nitro' ending of the go-home Dynamite, which ran a little long on the 'heels beat everyone up and strut around like assholes almost too in desperate need of comeuppance' bit, short of garbage raining into the ring, did actually increase the heat for both promoted matches. Again, not rocket science, but executed perfectly. Catharsis was on the card, and catharsis went over several times Sunday. - Again, it's time to move on from the Casino theme, shuffling the deck and drawing suits really only detracted from the Battle Royale and seemingly always throws the production crew a curve. If they haven't hammered it by now, it's not going to happen. - Bit unhappy about the PAC/Andrade situation, but still over the moon with Andrade's promo style and Chavito being unhelpful at best.

*Pre-Card

Best Friends and Jurassic Express v The Hardy Family Office and The Hybrid 2 (**) - Not usually much to say about a loaded-up multiteam boondoggle, particularly when the show has yet to begin, but there were some moments worth sitting up to take notice -- there's a lot of talent in the ring, even if Jack Evans/Angelico aren't going to be more than mid-level mooks, little matchups with guys like Luchasaurus and Chuck Taylor are opportunities for innovative/weird spots. - Really this match exists to show-off Jungle Boy, play his theme song twice, and work him in to the aforementioned spots. I don't rightly know what Jungle Jack's ceiling is, but it sort of feels like he's plateauing, at least this version of himself. - Dan Lambert thing is interesting in that it doesn't seem to easily lead to something obvious... I mean who are Scorp and Ethan Page feuding with by proxy here, the concept of contemporary professional wrestling? Orange Cassidy and Kenny Omega?

*Main Card

Miro (C) v Eddie Kingston for the TNT Championship (***1/2) - 'Redeem Deez Nuts' T-shirts now available -- and made immediately redundant now that Miro has graciously redeemed Eddie's nuts. - Imagine looking at Miro, listening to Miro talk, and not really being able to figure out this guy is money. Also imagine panicking when he took a little while to find his groove in AEW. 'The Redeemer' is both entertaining and terrifying, and this match delivered heavily on the promise of two big fellas smacking together repeatedly. - Not only does Eddie's arsenal of power moves target Miro's neck, he may also be quite difficult to put in the full reclined camel clutch. Or he'd quite literally snap in half. It didn't come to that. - Weird heel turn by Bryce's attention span and the overall weirdness of the finish is all that kept this from being an excellent match, otherwise this was a tremendous curtain jerker and started off a dangerously fun run of pure adrenaline.

Jon Moxley v Satoshi Kojima (****) - The stakes were nebulous, the build was abrupt, yet this was a fantastic match and tremendous showcase for an underappreciated great who has been more or less just toiling for a bunch of years as a NJPW Dad. Same deal for Nagata, and I assume Tenzan is the same, Taka Michinoku even -- let's see it. - I have to assume the Cozy Lariat might have put Mox down, but Kojima otherwise played the hits (Koji Cutter, Piledriver, Brainbustaaaa) in a big way and Moxley once again proved he's become a very well-rounded wrestler who can match the intensity of just about any former IWGP champion. - More to the point-- KAZE NI NARE -- out of nowhere, too. Or out of nowhere to those not paying attention to the whereabouts of Minoru Suzuki (Right, he's just over here to fight Daniel Garcia and not Mox?), which I guess is to my own peril. Wow, though. Surprise Number 1- a complete surprise, and a welcome one. Let's have it.

Dr Britt Baker, DMD (C) v Kris Statlander for the AEW Women's Championship (****) - I love Kris and her best friends but she didn't have a prayer of dethroning Britt. She got one promo, several weeks ago, and though she did make a meal of Hayter and Rebel, the chase has been abrupt and not given much discussion, other than Mark Henry and whomever else acknowledging what is extremely evident -- Statlander is stronger than she looks, and she looks really strong. They've got her doing Cesaro-level 'modify your grip while holding your opponent's entire weight' nonsense, and it's amazing and scary. - Even with the reign of the good doctor not being credibly threatened, this was an excellent match that demonstrated the continued growth of the competitors in the women's division, even as it underlined that their storylines remain undercooked and perfunctory: Orange Cassidy whipping off his shades to urge Stat to get up was a beautiful moment. Britt's Panama Sunrise, also, too sweet. Statlander eating shit on her 451 and her pendulum moonsault was properly brutal, as were Britt's curb stomps. Really great match between these two. - Again, if they had bothered to write anything into this story, such as Kris' alien physiology making her immune to the lockjaw or something... actually, maybe that's a terrible idea. it's an idea. Undefeated challenger is defeated, on to the next for Dr Britt. Statlander and OC should tag against some of the boys.

The Young Bucks (C) v The Lucha Bros for the AEW World Tag Team Championship(*****+) - Can't not mention the insane entrance lined up for Fenix and Penta. It was bewildering, it was enchanting, it was aggressive, it was hype. It also reminded everybody how very badly we all wanted the Lucha Bros to win. The crowd has been setting new peaks with their volume since Punk showed up, but things were absolutely thunderous and ecstatic at the end of this match. Absolutely valid response. I yelled on the couch. - Nick's facial hair was a bigger tell that it was time for the Bucks to lose than anything else about this build. There's literally nowhere to go from there -- they've done the hair, the bandanas, the kicks, the animal print, the dangly earrings -- peak visual heel for this time and place. - Sincerely thought this was going to be too much of a full sprint spot-fest (the PWG-esque circle of trading blows is not really 'my thing') but even so they kept finding gears, and ramping and ramping and adding blood and brutality along the way. Even a bit of levity, with the tacked up sneaker, followed by the sincerity of Penta throwing himself in harm's way to protect his brother. Immense match, I think you'd have to go back to the Bucks vs the Addiction and MCMGs Ladder War to find a more thrilling tag team gimmick match. - If there's a single flaw to be found it's in the production not really settling on wide angles for simultaneous action at the start of the match. They figured it out. - Rey Fenix is the best luchador in the world.

Women's Casino Battle Royale (**1/2) - If nothing else, this really shows off that they now have a surplus of women's wrestlers who deserve time to hang in the ring. Unsurprisingly, the match picked right up when Thunder Rosa and then Jamie Hayter got to the ring, with additional props to Tay Conti and Jade Cargill, who was dumped rather unceremoniously given her general booking... - Okay, there was something else. Welcome to the rechristened Ruby Soho, who I've not seen a lot of outside of her extremely limited showcase in WWE, but she has so many friends in the back and in the industry and that's never for nothing, not in wrestling, anyway. Intrigued to see where she fits, and if the women ever get more than a match per show. - Touched on this in the preamble but this was the roughest part of the night for the home viewer, just weird decisions on cutting away from various entrances to show... nothing in particular happening. Also while the commitment to not-kayfabing the countdown clock is... admirable? It makes the pacing hinky. - Almost everyone who got new gear for tonight was looking like the white ranger -- Nyla, Swole, Bunny, someone I'm missing. Except Anna Jay, whose stars and glitter gear looked great.

MJF v Chris Jericho for the fate of Jericho's in-ring career (***) - MJF's unauthorized homage to Y2J's entrance: good. Fozzy's guitarist going off tempo with the instrumental Judas: weak, and would've been sad if this were the end for Jericho. Especially as the build has felt... muted, somehow. - Props to the commentary for continuing to feed the red herring of 'in AEW,' as a caveat to stipulation, it did feel like... a remote possibility that MJF would win. - Credit to Aubrey for calling this one down the middle and not putting the fix in for her friend Jericho, and I guess the Dusty finish will give MJF plenty to gripe about. - MJF wrestles with a pure heel style, holds, chops, blocks, and Jericho is fifty years old, so the level of wrestling on exhibition in these matches is well beside the point. It was solid to good, and I was fighting burn out from the first half of the card's level of excitement.

CM Punk v Darby Allin (***1/2) - There are a couple benefits of Darby as a dance partner, and it's certainly better than having to watch Punk return against like, QT Marshall or Shawn Spears. Darby does make everyone look slow, but he can also be tossed around, and this raises his profile even in defeat, obviously. That said, the stakes here are... meta, at best, in that we want to see the man look good and justify the hype. It's a weird thing to root for. He certainly does look good. (Tights? Tights!) - It's fun to theorize about actually booking an angle where Punk is rusty and needs to regain his prowess, and maybe he'll stumble, but maybe the most we get out of that angle is hitting the GTS a little close to the ropes so Darby falls right out of the ring, in what was, for me, the spot that justified this whole match. - Sting's proud step-dad aura is still a hell of a thing, I really liked the end of the match kudos all around. - Match was good, hard to hang my emotions on. I wasn't watching WWE when Punk was in WWE. Definitely feeding off the excitement of others a bit here, and he sure can talk. I'd like to see him cultivate a stable, certainly.

Paul Wight v QT Marshall (n/r) - ...popcorn match? QT Marshall is like the anti-Daniel Garcia in that while his prominence and presence is just as inexplicable, I don't want it to continue, and he doesn't justify it in the process. - Match was two minutes longer than it needed to be.

Kenny Omega (c) v Christian Cage for the AEW World Championship (****1/2) - Crowd was both burnt out and more or less waiting for the post-match angle. Which I get. it's hard to cruise to the main event and having seen all the different things we've already seen on this card, even a singular performer like Kenny Omega and a legend with whom he (surprisingly? fittingly?) has superb chemistry with in Christian Cage were up against it to deliver something memorable. - Context dependent, I can definitely see rating this below their Rampage match, especially since... I mean Christian isn't winning the AEW title off Kenny at this or probably any other event. - But! It was really good! It was very good! They really do match-up well, and Kenny's v-trigger has rarely looked more devastating than when it knocks Christian flat. Christian got cut open in a novel and initially worrying way, and Kenny followed up a botched moonsault with a harder version of the same move off a rail, but it was a really great match and it deserved more energy than was available.

Post-Show - Calling back and inverting the end of Dynamite, The Elite strut about the ring, slightly less stoked than they were on Wednesday, but with the Bucks smiling through the pain, and Jungle Boy once again subjected to violence for his misguided heroism, Kenny 'not much a promo' Omega lays down a killer line about nobody being fit to challenge him who isn't unavailable, already tired or dead. - The Undertaker ADAM COLE, BAY BAY as Surprise #3 was a minor stroke of brilliance, and a fun swerve because while it's exciting to see him, his appearance at this point in the narrative does nothing to solve the problem of The Elite beating up Christian and Jungle Boy. Unless he's still sore about his unsolved murder, which he isn't. Storytime with Adam Cole is back and it's beautiful. Also Jungle Boy died for this. - Okay. But. Just. Okay. CM Punk and Bryan Danielson are All Elite. They will hopefully tag together. Bryan will head to NJPW, almost definitely. Minoru Suzuki just walked in and started slugging on Mox. The Forbidden Door is wide open. Will Kenny Omega one day return to Wrestle Kingdom? There are so many possibilities and they are all very exciting. This was a phenomenal show and it didn't have Hangman Page, Cody Rhodes, FTR, Santana and Ortiz, PAC, Andrade, Sammy Guevara, Team Taz, and the rest.

- Wrestling is good, actually. Imagine watching like five hours of wrestling and loving wrestling at the end of it.

*What competes- WK11, Dominion 2018, 2019, DoN 2019, 2021.. All-In, probably. Wrestlemania 30. A few Takeovers. Kris Wolf's retirement show...

[thiswasinevitableid]

for monster march, ghost + indruck + nsfw?

Here you go! I borrowed some ideas we’ve tossed around on the Discord

A sketchbook, new pens, a Hershey bar, and a bag of jumbo marshmallows. A small but lively fire. And a new, huge, fuzzy sleeping bag waiting for him in the tent. 

Not a bad camping set up for a city-boy art goth (as Barclay likes to call him).

Indrid sticks another marshmallow on the fork, roasting it until it’s deep brown, the smell of burning sugar curling through the air and settling in his hair. He’s never liked Graham Crackers, so he jams a square of chocolate into the molten center of the marshmallow and shoves the entire thing into his mouth. 

Kepler is small. Barclay hadn’t been kidding about that. He’d also been right that one of the two tattoo shops in town was willing to hire Indrid after looking through photos of his work and confirming he completed his apprenticeship. 

He’s been living in the Eastwoods campground in the Monongahela National Forest while he apartment hunts, and the tattoos he’s done so far netted him enough cash to buy his luxurious new sleeping bag. He might be waiting on a place for some time, so he may as well camp in style. 

Three “s’mores” later, the moon is up and the night is chilly enough that he wants his sweatshirt. Ducking into the tent, he can’t find it on his pillow, where he swears he left it this morning. Maybe he accidentally buried it getting dressed.

A splashhiss interrupts his rummaging. Scrambling from the tent, he discovers his fire is now a pile of soaked ashes and logs being angrily stirred by a thick piece of kindling. 

“Excuse me, but what the fuck?”

A man in a ranger uniform appears, the stick falling through his hand as he gives Indrid a disapproving stare. 

“Look here, I know you’re new here, maybe to campin entirely. But you can’t just leave a fire burnin when you go to bed.” He doesn’t sound mad, more like he’s a disappointed big brother scolding his sibling. 

“I wasn’t-”

“And all this” he gestures to the food on the table, “has gotta go in the bear box. Black bears are real good foragers and we don’t want ‘em comin’ into camp and gettin to comfy around humans.”

“Of course, but-”

“You didn’t take any food into the tent, right? Wouldn’t want somethin to decide to join you ‘cause it smelled a snack.”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “I am aware of all of these rules, and plan to follow them. Once I actually go to bed instead of ducking into the tent for my sweater. But since my evening appears to be over…” he grabs the marshmallows, roasting fork, and chocolate, carries them to the bear box, and slams it closed. 

When he whirls back around, the ghost is still there, chagrined. 

“Uh, sorry. I kinda jumpy about people leavin fires alone.” In the lantern light, his smile is as charming as his drawl. His stocky, bearish shape and unassumingly handsome face command Indrid’s focus, which is why his revelation comes so quickly. 

“You...there’s a statue of you at the visitor center. Which makes you, ah, damn it what was the name-”

“Duck. Duck Newton. They put my legal name on there, even though Juno tried to stop ‘em. But my name’s Duck.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Duck. I’m Indrid.”

“Nice to meet you too. Uh, sorry for ruinin your campfire, looks like you were havin a nice time.”

“It’s alright. I suppose I’m grateful there’s someone haunting the campsites to keep them in order.”

“You’re takin me bein’ a ghost surprisingly well.”

“I’ve always been interested in strange things, to the point that I earned the nickname ‘mothman’ in high school.”

“Huh” Duck watches him a moment, then shrugs, “well, guess I better be goin’. Have a nice night, mothman.”

With that, he’s gone.

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

“Hello again.” Indrid says as the campfire smoke curls around a human form, “Doing your rounds?”

“More or less. I like my job, and ain’t about to give it up just because I beefed it and turned into a ghost.” A creak as Duck joins him on the picnic bench. When he materializes, he floats slightly above the worn wood, watching Indrid draw. 

“That’s incredible, it’s so realistic it’s like you pressed the leaves into the pages instead of colored them.”

“Thank you.” adds depth to the leaf, “you know, I looked at the statue again today. It hardly does you justice.”

From this close, he can see a blush spread up semi-opaque cheeks. Then he starts fading.

“Oh, ah, I’m sorry. I was aiming for a benign compliment, not to make you uncomfortable.”

“S’alright, just surprised me. Not many folks wanna flirt with a dead guy.”

“I’m more interested in what the ‘dead guy’ wants.” Indrid smiles, hoping to convey he would submit to spectral touches as readily as he’d keep talking. 

Duck floats closer, “Kinda curious about your other drawin’s.”

Indrid turns the sketchbook back to the beginning, “they’re half portfolio and half travelogue. Here” he holds up a fade, detached piece of paper,  covered by an Morpho Butterfly that looks ready to fly away, “this is the first tattoo I ever designed.”

“Damn. Guessin’ that means you did this one” he touches the Rosy Maple Moth on Indrid’s forearm (or tries to). It’s chilly, but not in the way Indrid feared. More like taking a cool shower on a sweltering day.

“I did. Here, it gave me an idea for my first series of flash tattoos…”

They go over the illustrations page by page. Slowly, Indrid weaves in questions to Duck who, instead of recoiling from discussion of his mortal life, tells him rambling stories about the woods and which places serve the best food in town. 

The conversation doesn’t end until the fire goes out on it’s own, Duck standing automatically, grabbing a water bottle, swearing, and then disappearing so he can pick the bottle up. 

“Do you think that’s part of why you’re still here? Some unfinished business having to do with the woods?”

“Nah.” The water bottle thunks back on the table as Duck reappears, “I tried to live a normal life, improve the world the way I knew how, make some kind of difference to this town. Then I had to go play the goddamn hero.”

“I would say saving two dozen people from a forest fire makes a considerable difference in the world.”

A sad huff of a laugh, “Yeah, guess you’re right. Just...I meant to do somethin’ with my life, not my death, even if it was a small somethin’, and the closest thing I got to unfinished business is a model ship.”

“I...what?”

“It was four-masted and everything! I had Leo order it in special and everything and then I never, I never got to-”  He tilts his head up, sniffs once, “never mind. I better let you get to sleep.”

By the time Indrid calls “goodnight,” the ghost is gone. 

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

“Please tell me you’re gettin a place soon so you stop eatin everythin outta a can?” Leo bags the last of groceries.

“No such luck. Ah well, there are worse things than canned soup and Pop-Tarts.”

“At least let Barclay feed you, half the point of havin a friend who can cook is to let ‘em do it for you. You need stamps or anything?”

“N-” A box behind the counter catches his eye. It’s at an odd angle, as if whoever put it there is hoping no one will see it. Indrid can just make out an illustration of a four-masted ship.

“Is that for sale?”

Leo looks where he’s pointing, and for a moment something in his gruff affability wavers. Then he nods, “Yeah, suppose it is.”

“Can you ring it up for me?” Indrid nearly bounces on his toes when Leo sets the box on the counter and confirms his hunch. 

The older man sets a gentle hand on the cardboard, sliding it across to Indrid, “Don’t worry about that, kid. It’s yours.”

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

“Duck?” Indrid turns in a circle by the picnic table, “Duck, I have something for you!”

He saw the ranger briefly last night, but he didn’t hang around. Gingerly, he sets the box on the table, tearing off a piece of sketch paper to write a note in case the ghost stops by while he’s asleep. 

“Holy fuck.” Duck floats across the table from him, “‘Drid, where did, how did--why?”

“Leo still had it. As for why I, ah, it seemed like you still wanted it. If you can douse a fire and over my camp stove, I figure you can build a model ship.”

Duck disappears and Indrid’s heart sinks; that must have been too much. Then he’s squished in an invisible, wonderful bear hug.

“Thanks, ‘Drid.”

From then on, Duck spends every night at his campsite, building the ship while Indrid draws, reads, or talks with him. The model lives in the safest corner of the tent during the day.

“I mean, I’m up durin the day too, but I scared a few folks on accident and I don’t want people avoid the forest because of me.”

Indrid also learns that Duck is stuck within a certain radius of where he died, and that his attempts to talk with Juno when she was in his part of the woods only lead to his friend thinking she was hallucinating and Duck feeling miserable for three solid days. Indrid offers to act as messenger and invite Duck’s friends (many of whom have, by chance and by proximity to Barclay, become his friends) to the campsite to see him. The ranger is quiet for some time after that offer.

“Not yet. Maybe someday, but not yet. I, it ain’t even been a year, ‘Drid. I think a lot of ‘em are still hurtin. And, and maybe this is selfish but...I ain’t ready to deal with them findin’ out I aint fully gone. It’d be so much all at once.”

Indrid doesn’t bring it up again. More than once, when Aubrey tells a story about Duck only for her eyes to sadden halfway through, or when he sees Juno looking at Duck’s statue a little too long, he struggles to keep his promise. 

A cold front blows into town and, since he’s still in the tent, he pops into Kepler Thrift N Find in search of an extra sweatshirt. Tucked in between one reading “Ranchos” and one with a picture of Garfield is a soft, well-loved hoodie with “Monongahela National Forest” on the front. He buys it and wears it home, the fact it’s loose in the arms making it even easier to tuck in his hands when he gets cold. 

He stops by the visitor center out of habit, checking out the new plush wild animals. There are also hints of Duck here and there; his name on displays, his face in group photos. As he contemplates a small, squishy black bear, he notices Juno looking at him more than usual.

“Hello again” he sets the bear on the counter.

“Howdy. This all?

“Yes, please. Are you alright? You look, ah, tired.”

“Yep. Or, uh, just noticed that sweatshirt. It was one that got made special for staff a few years ago.”

Indrid fidgets with the cat-bitten drawstring, “It was Duck’s, wasn’t it?”

“Uh huh. He put that patch on the sleeve. Guess it startled me to see it on someone else.”

“I understand.” 

“Knew him since we were kids. Hell, he’s my daughter’s godfather. Still don’t feel right, bein’ here without him.”

Indrid pushes the bear towards her and she pets it.

“What was he like?”

In the empty visitor center, Juno tells him. In her stories are echos of every conversation he’s ever had with anyone who knew Duck. When it’s time to close up, she asks if she can hug him, and thanks him for listening to her. 

“Guess you weren’t kiddin about wanting to sleep with a bear” Duck teases as Indrid sets his new purchase inside the tent. Indrid whaps at him, arm going through his torso. The ranger floats nearby as Indrid heats up ravioli and opens a can of Mountain Dew. Indrid tells him about the conversation with Juno. 

“Huh, guess that is my old one. Glad someone is gettin some use outta it. And it looks good on you.”

Indrid sets down his bowl, “We talked a lot, Duck. And it made me think about what you said to me one of the night after we met. You said you wanted a chance to make the world, the town, a little better. Everyone I’ve talked to, and I mean every one, has a story about you. How you helped them, how Kepler is worse off with you gone. You did so much, even with your time cut short. I, I wanted you to know that.”

The ghost looks away, “I wasn’t done tryin to help.”

“You still aren’t. You do what you can to keep the forest and the visitors safe. And you, you’ve made my life immeasurably better Duck. Seeing you is the best part of my day and I think I’m falling--ah, that is, you’re not done making a difference.”

Duck hasn’t moved since Indrid started talking about his feelings. When Indrid tries to meet his eyes, he disappears. Hurried, he reaches out to offer a reassuring touch and gets only air. 

“Duck?”

Nothing, even after he calls his name three more times.

He slumps onto the bench, “well, fuck me I guess.”

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

This is a terrible idea. But it’s his last, and therefore his best. 

Indrid even asked Barclay’s boyfriend, Joseph, if anything in his impressive library of the paranormal advised the reader on dealing with upset ghosts. A few did, always from the perspective of trying to get the specter to go away. They said nothing about what to do if your upset ghost was missing, leaving an ache in your heart you didn’t know you were capable of feeling. 

Instead, after a week of silence, Indrid changes tactics: if he can’t coax Duck back, maybe he can annoy him into appearing. 

Tonight, he finishes dinner and cleans his dishes, puts the bulk of the food in the bear box, and then tears open a bag of chips, scattering them across the table. He eats one, then leaves the open bag laying amongst the potato shards. 

Next, he dumps his remaining water on the fire, which takes it down to embers but does not extinguish it. When none of that gets a reaction, he decides to narrate.

“Hmm, that should be fine, it’s not that dry and I don’t think sparks can go over the edge.”

“Should I leave these juice pouches out? Yes, I think I should, in case I get thirsty at night. Maybe I’ll take one into the tent, just to be safe.”

He already feels silly and like no one is listening, and so he escalates. 

“I know I shouldn’t leave food out for the wildlife, but since there’s no handsome, ghostly ranger here to punish me for my transgressions, I am just going to leave some nuts out for the raccoons. I like raccoons. They deserve nice things. Hell, how about I just leave them a whole buffet since no one is stopping me!”

All he gets in reply are the few bugs awake this early in the spring and the crack of brush as a small mammal runs away from the weird bipedal thing yelling at his camp fire. He doesn’t leave out food for the raccoons; he climbs into his tent in a huff. What a bad idea, to think this of all things would bring Duck back to him. He’s being childish and bratty and selfish; Duck doesn’t deserve that, no more than he owes Indrid his company. 

He changes into his pajamas pants and sleep shirt, intending to go back out to make the site safe and tidy. Except.

Except something just opened the bear box. The chip bag crinkles and the fire hisses out a minute later. He should be running outside to apologize, but his mind has simultaneously  registered the full darkness of the night , the possibility that Duck is not the only paranormal thing in these woods, and the fact the nearest other campers are on the other side of the campground, meaning he is very, very alone.

The zipper on the tent moves, the flap falling open so his lantern shines on nothing but April air.

“Duck? Please say that’s you.”

A low chuckle, “It’s me, ‘Drid.” The fly zips shut, “mighty peeved about that trick you pulled.”

“I’m, I’m sorry. I missed you, but that was a bad way to communicate that.” He can’t see him, and the lantern only picks up the odd shift of sleeping bag or tent floor, so Indrid’s eyes’ dart about trying to pinpoint him.

“Oh, you communicated plenty, sugar. Like what you want a certain, uh, ghostly ranger to do to you.”

“Oh god” he winces, “please, forget I said that, it’s humiliating.”

“Not all that surprisin, truth be told. I mean, you and I flirted now and then. And you told me enough about yourself for me to suspect that you’re a kinky little weirdo who’s dyin to get fucked by a ghost.” 

“I, I feel I should point out that I only want to fuck one ghost. You. I want to fuck you and that means fucking a ghoOOOst.” He gasps as cold lips press into his neck.

“I can make that happen, darlin, all you gotta do is say it. You were a pain in the neck earlier, so now I expect you to be real polite and use your words.” Duck’s voice has never been like this before, rough and possessive yet still, under all of it, the same warmth draws Indrid in like a flame. 

“I want you, Duck.”

A bite to his ear, strong arms wrapping around his waist from behind him, “Want me to do what?”

“Fuck me” this is like every wet dream he had as a teenager, the supernatural being coming for a fellow outsider. 

That gets him a tender kiss on the cheek, “That’s better. Though, if I’m rememberin correctly, word you used was punish.”

Indrid yelps as Duck turns and shoves him to lay across his lap, kicks his legs out in surprise when his waistband slides down to his upper thighs. 

“Yesss” he wiggles his ass as Duck palms it, “yes, Duck, pleaseAHgod” the first strike stings, and Duck doesn’t let him recover before delivering five more, three to each side. His cock perks up at the pain. Stranger still, because Duck is invisible, all Indrid has to do is tilt his head to watch it harden and twitch with each slap.

Twenty strikes later Duck pauses, hand rubbing soothing, cool circles on the burning skin, “Learned your lesson?”

“Mmhmm.” Indrid presses an awkward kiss to Duck’s knee. 

“Glad to hear it.” Duck hauls him up onto his knees, slides a hand under his shirt and up his chest, “I’m rarin’ to feel more of you--holy fuck” 

“AH!” Indrid arches as Duck toys with his left nipple piercing, his other hand quickly finding the right. 

“God, fuck, you’re fuckin hot, if I were alive I woulda taken you home first time I saw you.” Messy kisses cover his neck as Duck tugs the piercings.

“Gaahnnyes, that’s, that’s very flattering.”

“Ain’t flattery, sugar, it’s the truth. Never could turn down some skinny punk with piercin’s and messy hair, not when I was a teen burnout hidin in the woods and sure as hell not now.” He moves Indrid onto his back, rucking up his shirt as his legs twist in his half-down pants. The ranger cups his face, and Indrid is positive he’s meeting his eyes, “tell me what you want sugar, tell me so I can treat you right.”

“Marks, I want marks anywhere you’ll give them.”

A growl from above him, then lips smashing into his, drinking him in before continuing down his throat, biting and sucking hard enough that he cries out every time. Duck pauses, teasing his nipples with his tongue as he rakes his nails up his sides. He sits up and for a horrible moment Indrid loses him. Then with glee he watches five red marks drag down his chest. He moans, rolling his hips and discovering just how closer Duck’s clothed cock is to his own. The contact only feeds the rangers eagerness, and Indrid is tosses and turns as he sucks, bites, and scratches, laying claim to the illustrated expanse of his body. 

“More, please, god that all feels so good.” 

“Don’t worry darlin, still got plenty of you to mark up, but we’re gonna do somethin else while I do.” He eases Indrid onto his stomach, slaps his ass fondly, “don’t go nowhere.”

Indrid’s duffel bag unzips, clothes and pens moved aside until a bottle of lube hovers in the air. The tube compresses and drips coat the rough outline of fingers. When the two digits press into him he sighs, eyes closing as he melts under Ducks watchful eyes. 

“That’s it ‘Drid, relax for me. Got well over a year of horny to work out, so this cute ass needs to be ready to take it.”

Indrid pushes his hips back in reply, taking as far as the fingers will go and whimpering excitedly when he presses in the tip of the third. Duck works that one more carefully, kissing Indrid’s face and shoulders as he whispers about how good he is, how much he’s wanted this.

“I want it too so for, for goodness sake please fuck me soon or I’ll leave my entire cooler out for the bears.”

“Only one bear in this campsite tonight darlin.” Duck laves his tongue down the base of his spine, bites down hard on his ass. Indrid’s still moaning from the pain when his cock pushes in.

“Fuuuckme that’s good. Shoulda snuck into your tent sooner, sugar, made you a fuckin cocksleeve you feel so fuckin good.”

“Ohgod” is all Indrid, voice muffled by the sleeping bag he’s biting, manages before Duck adjusts them so Indrid is on his knees. The ranger isn’t gentle, pounds into him like he’s nothing but a warm hole and chuckles whenever Indrid moans. 

“H-handprints, Duck, want hand prints GAHyesyesyes” he struggles to move in time with the ghost as the air fills with ear-splitting slaps. He’s so close, the pain and the sensation of phantom fingers claiming his body making his body beg for release. When he slides a hand down to jerk himself off, the arm twists up and stays trapped against his back. 

“You wanna cum, you know what to do.”

He blinks away the ecstatic tears, words raw in his throat, “Please let me cum, Duck. I want to, need to cum while you fuck me pleaseplease-” he cuts off into whine as the ghost works his cock hard, all the while jamming into him hard enough that the smooth fabric of the sleeping bag burns his knees. When he cums it’s with a weak cry of Duck’s name, which is swallowed up by hungry lips as Duck kisses him over and over, repeating Indrid’s name like an incantation as he pumps his hips and cums, pulling out as he does so it splatters on the reddened patches of his ass. 

A final kiss to the top of his head, and then there’s no contact between them and the zipper is moving.

“Oh no you don’t” Indrid scrambles, sweaty and exhausted, between the tent fly and the invisible man somewhere in front of him, “for goodness sake, Duck, I thought you liked me enough to at least let me fall asleep before you ran.”

The ranger finally appears, hair a mess and cheeks noticeably pink, “‘Drid, all that was amazing, but it’s all I can give you. I, I can’t...you said you were fallin for me and I can’t give you that.”

Indrid cocks his head, “Why not?”

“Because I’m a fuckin ghost, ‘Drid! You deserve to be with a livin’ fella, you deserve someone who can be a real part of your life.”

He crosses his arms, “Duck, you are a real part of my life. Honestly, what part of all the nights we spent together, all the ways we take care of each other, all of this” he points at the rumpled sleeping bag, “suggests otherwise?”

The ghost doesn’t speak, simply hugs himself (or tries to).

“If this is too much, if I’m offering something you do not want, then please tell me. But if this is you thinking that some paranormal quirks keep you from being a worthy partner for me, kindly think again.”

Duck disappears and Indrid is gearing up to try and tackle a supernatural entity when a familiar face buries itself in the crook of his neck. The ghost clings to him, and Indrid clings right back. 

“You really wanna give it a go?”

“More than anything.”

Duck lifts his head so their cheeks rest together, “Then fuck it. Let’s see what happens.”

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

Indrid finishes hooking up his lightly used Winnebago, AKA his solution to the lack of available apartments. He’s in a different section of Eastwoods, but he’s happy with his new spot. He opens one of his few boxes, gently lifts the completed model ship into a place of honor, and waits, humming happily, for an unseen hand to knock on his door. 

[writingsbychlo]

i dont know if you use tiktok a lot but theres this trend where girlfriends / wives walk in on their men playing video games or doing whatever buttass naked... how do you think dylan and his characters would react to that? (not fiming it for tiktok obviously)

you guys, I seriously had so much fun writing this.

Stiles

Sending another snap to the girls, you typed furiously at the screen, each of their bubbles lighting up at the bottom with speech bubbles as they all typed, equal sounds of irritation from all of them.

[Lyds 💋 - it’s saturday. there’s nothin goin on. whats he doin???]

[Alli  🏹 - if that was isaac he’d be begging for forgiveness by now.]

[Ki ⚡- you brought him lunch!!! and he didn’t even kiss you?]

[Me - he grunted a vague thx in my direction.]

[Lyds 💋 - unacceptable. we’re girls. we demand kisses. & equal pay.]

[Mal 🍕- u should get naked. stiles is weak to sex.]

[Me - that might acc work. he really is, it’s almost embarrassing.]

[Ki ⚡- omg, I rlly bet that would work.]

[Lyds 💋 - if he won’t give u attention, u have to take it. the only way.]

[Alli  🏹 - wait pls film his reaction. Isaac wants to laugh too.]

[Mal 🍕- I could use a laugh, I'm pretty bored too.]

You giggled at the idea, the girls blowing up the group chat as they encouraged you to do it, and you headed away to the bathroom, stripping your clothes down and folding them neatly, before slipping Stiles’ flannel up over your arms, holding it closed for modesty as you began the video.

You grinned into the mirror, before turning the video around and dropping the item to the ground so they could see it. Filming ahead of yourself, you took several steps forward, your hand on camera pushing open his door, and you called out to him.

He simply hummed in response, not even bothering to turn around, and you flipped him off behind his back, knowing Isaac and Allison would get a kick out of that part, before you sighed loudly. “Fine, I guess I’ll go be naked downstairs, then.”

“Wait, what?” The man spun around, the marker dropping from his lips as he finally tore his attention from the crime board before him, his eyes widening as he looked at you, his eyes scanning over you appreciatively and he let out some noise between a growl and a moan, before he finally met your eyes. “Are you filming me?”

He didn’t even give you a chance to reply, a smirk on his face as he paced across the room toward you, crushing the phone and your arms between you both as he backed you into the wall, his hands cupping your face so he could land his lips on yours in a hot kiss. Lifting your finger from the record button, you hit send, dropping the device to the floor and wrapping your arms around his neck.

Grunting into your mouth, his hands skimmed down to your thighs, scooping you up from the ground as the continual chimes of the group chat receiving messages faded into the background, your back meeting the mattress.

Stuart

You sighed, moving around the bathroom as quietly as you could. You knew Stuart was in a work call, he’d told you so himself. His group was doing some big project lately, and you were trying your best to stay out of his way as he worked.

You had run your bath, bubbled decorating the surface as the colours from the scented bath bomb swirled in the steaming water, the scents of berries and vanilla filling the room as you tied up your hair with the scrunchie from the counter. Catching sight of the back of the door you noticed the hooks hanging empty of towels, and you turned, glancing to the shelves, only to see them empty too.

You debated just leaving it, but you had no idea how much longer Stuart would be in this call, it had already been almost four hours and when you’d passed by your bedroom half an hour ago to run a bath, it hadn’t sounded like he was anywhere near finishing. You had already thrown your clothes into the hamper, and you knew all the fresh towels were in the basket in your bedroom.

Groaning, you peeped around the bathroom door, noting Stuart sitting up against the headboard, laptop balanced on his lap and he didn’t even look up to see you, earphones plugged in as he occasionally talked and added his say to the group, and you decided it was safe.

The bedroom as far colder than the bathroom, goosebumps running over your skin and your nipples hardening at the contrast, your feet soft on the carpet as you stayed out of view, bending over to dig through the basket, snatching two towels from the stack and standing straight, turning around. Stuart’s eyes were fixed on you, or more precisely, where you had been bent in half to gather your towels. Dragging his eyes up along your body, he looked like he was almost drooling, and he swallowed thickly, dark gaze meeting yours.

Holding his microphone to his lips, he cleared his throat, not even bothering to look back tot he screen as he mumbled an excuse to them all; “Uh.. yeah, sorry guys. I have to go.. do something. Bye.” Clicking ‘hang up’, he yanked his earbuds out, discarding the device and the wires to the desk as he stumbled over his feet toward you, your eyebrows raised, a sly grin on his face.

“So, I’m a something now.”

He groaned, his hands sitting on your bare waist as his fingertips dug into your flesh. “You’re absolutely everything, sweetheart.” With that, he spun you around, snatching the towel from your hands and pushing you back onto the bed.

Thomas

The buildings around paradise had certainly come a long way since the small fabric tents they had been in the beginning. Small huts had been crafted from wood, and soon stones had followed up on the walls, washed up on the beach and chipped from the rocks until cabins with real rooms and walls had started to be crafted.

When you had woken up, the bed had been cold, and muffled voices from the main room of your home disturbed your peace, making you stir in the sheets, rolling over with a quiet groan and shielding your eyes from the morning sun rays. Wrapping the thin sheet blanket around your body, you got to your feet, running a hand through your messy hair and shuffling from the room.

Thomas saw you first, his smile lighting up the second he saw you and the blond he was talking to paused in his chatting, turning around to greet you as you moved through the small home, fishing an apple from the bowl of fruit on your counter. Thomas wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side and placing a sweet kiss to your lips, bumping the tip of his nose against yours.

“Good morning, Tommy.” You teased, biting into your apple and wiping the edge of your mouth on the back of your hand to gather up the excess juice. “Mornin’ Newt.”

“Good morning, love. Sorry to interrupt your morning, I figured you both would have been up by now.” You blushed, Thomas smirking as he squeezed his arm around your waist tighter, the loud crunches of your apple being consumed sounded out as your boyfriend chuckled.

“We had a late night.”

You slapped at his chest, shaking your head as your cheeks heated up, and you peeled yourself away from his side, shaking your head at him fondly and leaning up to press a kiss to Newt’s cheek as you wandered on past, chucking the apple core into the small bin in the corner of the room as you left, and the boys picked their discussion back up. With a cheeky grin, you paused in your room as you looked at the bare bed, before a smirk took over on your face.

Sticking your head back out of the door to peep at your boyfriend, his eyes caught yours over Newt’s shoulders, a single brow raising as you winked at him, stepping out into the room to stand before him, Newt’s back still to you and he had no idea what was going on. You watched as your boyfriend’s jaw tightened, his eyes as wide as saucers when he watched you let go of the handful of material that was holding the cover-up wrapped around you. The fabric dropped to the ground, baring your nude body to him and you licked over your lips slowly, biting down on your bottom lip and disappearing into the bedroom as his jaw fell slack.

“Newt, I love you, man, but I need you to get out. Like, right now.”

Dave

Both you and Dave had decided to stay on campus for spring break. Your family wasn’t really expecting you home, and Dave’s mother and sister had gone to Disneyland for the break as a treat to Stella, and Dave really didn’t feel like spending two weeks surrounded by screaming children and standing in queues for hours on end.

Never when Dave had started college did he think he’d be this happy by his spring break. He’d started as a heartbroken freshman after Aubrey had dumped him weeks prior to his first-week beginning, and he certainly never expected to end up dating one of the hottest chicks he had ever seen, from the most popular sororities on campus.

The two of you had settled on hanging out in his dorm over spring break. His roommates were out, but a couple of the girls had also stayed behind, and so you wouldn’t quite have had the privacy at the house you did here. Dave was on his third day of lounging in his sweatpants and playing videogames. He had a pizza menu ready beside him, and his head popped up in your lap as you played with his slightly grown out hair, your phone buzzing in your hands every so often as you played with the hair under the band of his headset, running your fingernails over his scalp soothingly as he hummed under his breath at the feeling.

“Dave, I gotta’ go.” You spoke quietly as not to interrupt the flow of chatter going on that you could hear coming from the ears of his headphones, and you eased yourself out from under him, the boy groaning as he turned to look at you, brows raised as his focus left the shooting taking place on the tv screen.

“Where you goin’?”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you stood up from the bed, stretching out and brushing the wrinkles from your pyjamas. “I’m going out with some of the girls today, I’ll be back later.” He pouted, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips to placate him, a smile on his face when you pulled away.

“Okay, have fun. I’ll miss you.” You grinned, and you could hear the teasing coming from the other end of the headphones, excessive amounts of kissy-noises and declarations of love sounding out as Dave scoffed and told them all where to stick it, and you rooted around in the drawer he’d cleared for you to put your weeks worth of clothes in. Selecting the matching black set with the pretty yellow and white daisies on, you tossed it onto the bed, searching for a pair of shorts when Dave cleared his throat, his eyes wide as he held up the bikini bottoms from one finger, and he raised his brows. “What’s this?”

“It’s a bikini. It is spring break, we’re going to the beach.”

You shrugged, finding the shorts you wanted and pulling them from the drawer, and Dave hummed, clearing his throat and gripping the material tightly. “So, you’re going to be all wet, and half-naked, and tanning, and half-naked and did I mention wet?”

You laughed loudly at his words, and he shoved the headset down from his ears as the boys on the other end went wild, and you nodded, fishing the suncream from your bag and waving it at him teasingly. “I’ll be all moisturised and soft and shiny, too.”

“Fuck.” He mumbled, and you giggled, shaking your head and putting the bottle back in your bag, before peeling your shirt up over your head, dropping your sleep shorts to the floor and picking them up, a growl sounding beside you as Dave watched you, jaw slack. “Guys I’m tapping out, turns out I’m going to the beach.”

Within seconds he’d logged off, and he was tossing the controller and the headset away to the floor. “You’re coming to the beach?”

“Yeah, but first you’re cumming right here, at least twice, so get over here.” You shook your head at him, his body flopping back into the bed as you squealed, crawling up his body as your lips met his.

Mitch

Mitch was busy working, on all his important case files, hunched over his desk as he did his best to get through his jobs as quickly as possible. He’d finished his assignment three days early, and he was hoping that if he could get all the reports and briefs finished in time, that would give him a whole extra week of holiday off with you, a week he could spend cooking with you, and holding you, and fucking you senseless.

Unfortunately, since you hadn't been expecting him home, you had dinner plans with the girls and your dress was staring at him from across the room. A slim maroon number with spaghetti straps and a slit in the thigh, a pair of sleek black heels and a leather jacket to match. You were in the bathroom, and he had long since heard the hairdryer go off after your shower, and so he knew you were doing your makeup.

Around half an hour ago, your ringtone had snapped him out of his daze, and as much as he had tried to refocus, your sweet voice was muffled from the other side of the door but he could make out a few words, and he was still staring at the page on his computer, only four new lines having been added in thirty minutes. When the door finally clicked open, the smell of your perfume drifted out into the room, and Mitch’s mouth went dry as he looked up at you from his desk.

Your skin was shining and inviting, freshly moisturised and shaven, your hair falling in loose curls down your back, perfect spirals that bounced with each movement you made and your makeup was flawless. Your lips were painted a dark-red colour, the exact matching shade of your dress and it only made them look plumper and more inviting, and Mitch leaned back in his seat, legs splayed open as his cock twitched interestedly in his sweatpants, your naked body on full display for him as you held your phone to your ear and chatted away, unaware of the effect you were having on him.

Standing from his seat, he came up behind you as you fished through your drawer for some underwear, and he swiped your hair from your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your bare skin as his other hand came up to pluck the phone from your hands, lifting it to his own ear and ignoring the sounds of your complaints.

“She’s going to be thirty minutes late, sorry girls.”

Before you could protest, he’d hung up, a smirk on his face as he dropped the device tot he carpet and spun you around, planting his lips on yours and you sighed against his mouth, your arms slinging around his neck, giving in to the affections. His tongue teased at your lower lip, his own hands sliding down to palm at your ass in groping handfuls.

“Only thirty minutes then, huh?”

“Well, I’ve got to save the main event for when you get back, you only get a taste before you go out, because if I really got to have my way with you, there’s no way you’d be stable in heels. You wouldn’t be able to walk properly.” He hummed, pecking your lips and scooping you up under your thighs, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“Give me my sneak preview then, hotshot.”

Sam (1920′s)

With a grin, you wrapped the red coat tighter around your body, nerves flooding your body as you watched the familiar beaten up truck of the man you loved beginning to make the way down the pathway through the fields toward your shared home. Sam had been having a tough time lately, this week had been a struggle for him, and as Friday night had rolled around, you knew he was looking forward to a weekend of relaxing and resting up, resetting himself and de-stressing in hopes that the next working week would go better.

It wasn’t something girls of your century did, but Sam wasn’t from your century, and he’d always seemed particularly fond of when you were naked. It was a struggle for you at first, you weren’t used to the idea of being nude, you were raised to be a lady and you could never be seen in an undignified way, but everything had changed for you when you’d met Sam.

The large red coat he so often wore was hanging on your body, your hair in loose waves down your back from the style it had been held in all day, and you watched from the top window as Sam pulled up in front of the house, and you dashed around the room and lit candles, pouring out glasses of the special occasion wine you had deemed appropriate to crack open.

The door opened and closed, and you heard Sam kicking off his shoes, locking the front door and making his way upstairs. You met him at the top of the stairs, a soft smile etching onto his frowning features as he looked up at you, before his brows were furrowing as he looked at you, his eyes scanning along your body and you shuffled nervously under his gaze. “Hey, doll. You look as pretty as ever.”

He took the final steps up, placing a sweet kiss to your lips and you returned the gesture, before splaying a hand out on his chest and taking a step back. With a deep sigh, you grinned up at his as boldly as you could, before releasing the hand the was holding the coat closed and the material fell open, your body exposed to him and his breath hitched in his throat. “Prettier, now?”

“You’re naked.”

“Yeah, I thought you deserved a nice surprise.” He beamed up at you, looking happier than he had all week and he pushed the coat from your shoulders, groaning as it fell to the floor and he smoothed large hands over your hips, pulling you in close to him, his lips brushing yours.

“I’m so in love with you.”

“I also opened a bottle of wine.” You teased, and he groaned under his breath, dipping down to scoop you up bridal style as he carried you toward your room.

[elizabethsaige]

i haven’t edited this all the way and I don’t really have a desire to so sorry if there are mistakes in this but hope you enjoyyyy!

It's not every day that Emily and Beca meddle in their daughter's life, but this is one very rare occasion.

Alex has a crush.

Normally, it wouldn't be that big of a deal, but this particular crush happens to be on the daughter of Jessica and Ashley, former Bellas. During the USO tour, the two revealed that they were a couple and a few years later, they welcomed their daughter, Olivia, into the world. Beca and Emily, along with Aubrey and Chloe, were in the delivery room during the birth.

Beca not only cried but realized at that moment that she wanted to have kids with Emily, which prior to that experience, the two decided that having kids were not in their future. The two were very busy with their careers, and kids would get in the way of what that. But after seeing the birth of Olivia, they decided that they really did want a child together.

Over the next 13 years, The Mitchells and The Jones-Smith family got closer and closer, Beca and Emily learning new things about Jessica and Ashley that they never knew before. I mean, it took them at least a few years to finally distinguish who was who, but eventually, they got it right, and now, they four girls couldn't be closer.

Alex and Olivia spend a lot of time together. They grew up being best friends, never leaving each other's sides. So it wasn't that big of a surprise when Beca found out that Alex developed a crush on Olivia.

It was quite obvious, actually; Alex wasn't the most subtle about it. Beca always noticed her daughter staring at the girl and laughing a little too obnoxiously when Olivia would say something only a little bit funny. At first, she thought it was just a "best friend" thing, but then she realized what was happening. In fact, she did the exact thing with Emily.

And it's not like she cared that her daughter had a crush. It's only natural. But Alex WAS her mother's daughter, and if the young girl was anything like Beca, she had a lot to be worried about.

//

Alex had her first "date-without-Olivia-knowing-it's-a-date" date, and although she didn't exactly tell her moms, Beca knew. Oh, she totally knew what was going on.

"Mom, Olivia and I want to get frozen yogurt, can you drive us?" Beca looked up to see her daughter and Olivia standing in front of her. A small smirk formed on her lips. Quickly, she shut her book and stood up.

"Sure, let me grab mama, and we can go," Beca said all too enthusiastically. She ran to the backyard where her wife was laying in the hammock, passed out.

"Babe, wake up."

Emily opened her eyes, "What do you want?" Beca stifled a laugh. Grumpy Emily was her favorite Emily.

"You're so cute when you're grumpy," Beca began, "but we have to go. We have to take Alex and Olivia on a date."

"What???"

//

As soon as Beca and Emily dropped the girls off at the froyo place, Beca parked the car and turned off the engine.

"Care to explain what we are doing here and why our 13-year-old is doing on a date?" Beca threw some sunglasses on and handed a pair to Emily, at which the girl just stared at the metal eyewear in her hands.

"Alex has a crush on Olivia. I figured it out a few weeks ago after, and now, they're on a date, but I don't think Olivia knows its a date, so now we have to spy on them." Emily frowned.

"Wait, I'm confused, why doesn't Olivia know it's a date?" The two got out of the car and slowly started for the froyo building.

"Because I don't think Alex has told her yet, but I think Olivia likes her too," Beca whispered as the two arrived outside of the building.

"First of all, why are you whispering? And second of all, this is so wrong. I can't believe we are spying on our daughter!" Not only did Emily think this was wrong, she thought it was a total invasion of privacy.

The two slowly made their way inside and looked around to see if they could find Alex and Olivia. The girls were found sitting in a back corner, laughing about something, enjoying their ice cream.

Beca darted behind a big plant, pulling Emily with her, fearing that the two would see them. Once they were in the clear, they settled at a table, far away enough to where they could still see the girls, but the girls couldn't see them.

Alex was laughing at something Olivia said, making heart eyes at her, as per usual. The sight made Emily melt. "I can't believe our daughter has her first crush! And on a girl! But why wouldn't she come to us?" A pout formed on Emily's lips as she frowned.

"I don't know, because we do shit like this and embarrass her?"

"Um, there is no 'we' in this situation. You're the one that does shit like this and embarrasses her, I have no part in this," Emily replied, crossing her arms.

"You're here, aren't you?"

"Because you made me come with you!"

Suddenly, Beca felt a tap on her shoulder. She whipped her head around and came face to face with her daughter.

Uh oh.

//

"I can't believe you were spying on me. I never want to talk to you again!" A furious Alex screamed as she stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to her bedroom. This was not good. This was sooooo not good.

"Love, I told you this was a bad idea. Now, look at what happened," Emily scolded Beca. Shame and regret washed over Beca as she watched her wife walk into the kitchen. This was going to require a lot of fixing and any time anyone got mad at Emily, she turned to baking their favorite treat.

Now, usually, anytime anyone would get mad at Beca, she'd just let it blow over, but this was different. It's was her daughter for Christ's sake. Her sweet, perfect daughter who was just a baby yesterday. It's hard thinking of your own kid as someone who has crushes and goes on dates and has...feelings. All of the feelings.

And having a daughter that likes girls makes it ten times harder. The three never even discussed the possibility of Alex being gay and although obviously, it wasn't a bad thing, Beca still worried about Alex going through some of the things she went through when she realized she was gay.

So, Beca ascended the stairs and made her way down the hallway to Alex's bedroom. Before knocking, she took a look at the young girl's door. A brightly colored sign hung on it saying 'Alex's Room' with a picture of the girl at 7-years-old. With her missing front teeth, the small brunette was flashing her beautiful smile as she posed with her moms at the carnival.

Man, those were the days.

Beca felt tears welling up in her eyes. Damn this kid that stole Beca's heart the moment she looked into her eyes.

Quietly, she knocked on the door.

"Go away, I don't want to talk to you," Beca heard from the other side, as expected. She slowly turned the knob and peeked inside the room. Alex was laying on her bed, hugging a pillow, with soft music playing in the background. Oh, she was totally a mini Emily.

"I said go away."

Beca smirked as she closed the door and made her way to sit on the bed beside her daughter.

Silence washed over the room as the two sat on the bed, Alex ignoring her mother and Beca staring right at the girl.

Beca was the first to break the silence. "Remember when we went to that carnival when you were 7, we rode the ferris wheel like twenty times? We talked about how mama and I met and when we realized we were in love with each other and then we talked about our first kiss, and you covered your ears because you thought it was totally gross to date people and kiss them? I told you that someday, you won't think it's so gross anymore," Beca spoke as she shifted awkwardly beside Alex, "that day has come, and I'm scared for you and a little sad. I'm sad that you aren't a little kid anymore that thinks love is gross and I'm sad that you're growing up and developing feelings and shit." Alex looked at her mom with those damn tear-filled eyes that broke her heart every time she looked into them.

"I know this is a part of your life that you might not always want to share with mama and me, but I need you to know that you never should feel embarrassed or scared to tell us anything. We are always going to support you, no matter who you love unless it's like a serial killer or whatever, but you get the point." Alex giggled and wiped her eyes, getting rid of the tears.

"Okay," she responded, nodding. The young girl embraced Beca into a big hug and laid her head on her shoulder like she would when she was younger. A small tear rolled down Beca's cheek, making her hold Alex a little tighter.

[darkstrangevirgilanxiboi]

Slang Used In My High School

I went to a weird school that lumped every grade from 7th to 12th together in the same buildings and this resulted in a hot mess of angry teenagers and trends changing every five minutes . It was in Southern Utah , the SOUTHERN AF part of South Utah. But every Southern is different and MY southern childhood was a haze of too much denim , hideous bedazzled cowboy hats , the scent of faded leather boots , and lots of angry red neck elderlies who lived in houses that looked like death. Anyway , here's the common slang from my hellscape high school years. Brought to you from Piute High !( yeah my school stole the name of a local Native American tribe , the Paiutes , as did the county I lived in. White Colonization at its finest.... Nasty place to grow up in tbh) ~ " On The Peck " Code for - that person is pissed as Fuck , or alternatively, that person just had a make out session . Confusing tbh " Artistic Degradation " Inside joke that started in art class when my pal Indi fell asleep in class while drawing and thus turned his would-have-been masterpiece painting into a mess. He woke up and turned it in unfinished and called it " Artistic Degradation " . The teacher , Georgi , thought it was funny and hung it up on her art wall. It became a meme in our school to name various acts of sleeping while doing things " Artistic Degradation " " We'll Do It In A Mormon Minute !" My community was a largely Mormon one , and the Mormons in my area were notorious for being slow af in doing anything so this phrase sprang up as a joke "Post-apocalyptic baseball " We had a baseball field that looked as if it had survived eight wars in three months and so whenever we had a game there we called it post-apocalyptic ball " the wings know all " Started in my theater class because the kids in the ' wings ' listened to all the gossip , but it got popular since our school mascot was a Thunderbird " The Dew Crew Special " So there was this gang of dude-bros who drank Mountain Dew like it was their religion and they were known for doing stupid shit so anytime someone made a fool of themselves we called it a Dew Crew Special " Holt Beatdowns " This one is about an amazing girl , who got known for smack talking boys so well that they'd switch schools. Her last name was Holt . ( Like Pidge!:) Whenever a girl went off on a boy we called it a Holt Beatdown " The Weeb Wars " Slang for whenever someone was arguing over anime topics " The Aubrey Challenge " I DIDN'T KNOW THIS WAS A THING UNTIL RECENTLY BUT APPARENTLY I GOT FAMED FOR BEING A SARCASTIC REBELLIOUS PUNK And " The Aubrey Challenge " is slang for when a kid takes on someone in ruthless verbal warfare, starts an act of rebellion , or derails a class discussion by spewing conspiracy theories . Can't believe I'm a slang term " Passive Aggressive Stage Diving " The trust fall exercise, but stage dive style . ( There were concussions and the coach got mad so we stopped ) " Alternative Methods Of Murder " A joke started in biology when our teacher Sherida lectured us on how to successfully kill someone in the event of us becoming fugitives ???? ( I love her she's an icon ) " Funeral Potatoes Or Death " So there's this amazing potato dish that the local Mormons made only for funerals and it's So Good that you forget other food exists . We used to actively keep tabs on local funerals just to get the opportunity to enjoy the free lunch provided at the service. Think Au Gratin potatoes but with heaps of cheese , sour cream , onions , chives , bacon bits .... They're literally to die for I swear . " Indignant Death " Term used for when one of us theater nerds would pretend to fall dead out of sheer offense " Spider-Man isn't a good hero" - dramatically- " A MORTAL BLOW, FOUL VILLAIN!" - falls down in slow mo - " Code Demigod " Slang for when we'd all fuck with the substitute by seriously claiming our demigod roots , Percy Jackson style " Miss Holt , what are your parents like ?" " Gosh , I only know my dad! My mom's too busy , she's Persephone,you know. Queen of Hell. " " WHAT." " Existentially Noping" Slang for depression and for all the slacker kids " The Mormon Mortal Sins " Term for anything the Mormons said was evil ( which includes tea???? What did tea do to hurt you, Mormons????) " A Dalton Cure" A joke that started because the two most influential families in town, the Daltons and the Blackwells , were also rivals. The Daltons were a well-groomed White Christian family , and literally all of them look like models. Super-nice folks but they all have this deceptive kind of air about their smiles.( might actually be fairy people I'm not sure , they don't seem to age like humans anyway ) Whenever something bad got fixed mysteriously , it was known as a Dalton cure because we all knew it had to be a Dalton who fixed it. Anything bad that happened was called " Blackwell Wishes "