#grease was also like ????? very big in our little town. i think (guess?) it's because all of our parents grew up with it but during

[inkykeiji]

clari, clari! have you seen the movie "grease"? if so, what'd you think about it? to tell you the truth, it's my favorite romance film! my mom introduced it to me when i was a little girl and i still love it so much to this day 🥺💖

beloved ran!!! (ㅅ´ ˘ `) I HAVE HEHEHE oh my gosh okay so, similar to you, my best friend’s mom introduced us to it when we were like, so young (maybe a little too young; took us many many many years to finally understand what broke in the car with kenickie and rizzo LMAO) because she was a HUGE fan. she had a really cool collectors edition of the VHS that came with the script and some other fun memorabilia :3

anyway, i love that film so much and it has such a special spot in my heart bcoz we used to watch it every sleepover and just like ??? act it out hahaha (*ﾉωﾉ) i often credit grease as the first piece of art that really got me into that good girl x bad boy dynamic ehehehe <3

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales: Jaw$! or How Lena Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Webby (Lena Retrospective Commissioned by WeirdKev27)

Trigger Warning: Part of this review contains discussions of abuse which can’t be avoided but I still want to be senstive to my audience and any trauma they’ve gone through.  Welcome back weblena world to Shadow Into Light: My Lena Sabrewing Retrospective. And Jaw$ is here, long live Jaw$. Tiffany was a shark who bites the law she was in an episode i’m reviewing called Jaw$. 

And it’s the money shark before the storm as next month i’ll be going from two Ducktales reviews a week with the Lena retrospective and the last few episodes.. to three, as i’ll ALSO be covering the Della arc from season 1 in the build up to shadow war. And if your wondering if I expertly planned this to coincide with the finale, to the point the shadow war review and those leading up to it will be on the same week as the finale.... nope. I just got REALLLLY lucky as I already had all of that planned out, and the schedule for the  new episodes happened to synch up perfectly, ending just in time for me to revisit the series start and having Magica’s big in person appearance reviewed a week after we get her backstory in Life and Crimes. Though I am VERY happy it worked out this way as I get to properly celebrate the series end with more ducks than ever, and get to cover the pilot the same month as the finale, all things i’d of loved to do anyway and probably would’ve rejiggered my schedule to do. Point is lot of Ducktales content coming for this blog if you like that so stay tuned, but for now join me won’t you under the cut as we dive into a money bin of gay ducks, shadowy machinations, and Bad PR. 

We open as Lena and Donald awkwardly sit on the couch, waiting for Scrooge and the Kids to get home. Understandably it’s just.. dead silence.Given their a cynical teenager secretly working for and forced to obey a horrifying shadow monster and a 35 year old man who dosen’t like living in this house due to painful memories of his presumed dead sister.. and painful memories of pain in general, you have a huge awkward bowl of chips and “I really don’t want to be here right now”. 

Our heroes return though, and Louie tries to take some of their haul for himself but Scrooge stops that “It goes in the bin not to next of kin. “... Man in a Hurry if you would please. 

Thank you. Man in a Hurry everybody. He has to go now, he’s in a hurry. 

 As you can probably guess I do not like this, as it reminds me WAY too much of Scrooge’s worst “quirk” in the comics: how he’d barely pay his nephews, who are often hard up for cash mind you and one of whom is supporting three children ALONE, take them around the world and reap all the benefit for their hard work. It’s not like he did nothing, he did, but it’s way to exploitive for my tastes and can often sink a story if taken too far. It’s not AS bad... but they all went on the mission they all deserve at least something. I DO get keeping the rarest and most dangerous stuff for himself, as he is bankrolling things and does have two bins and a massive garage to safetly store them. But this just comes off as douchey for this version, who while liable to make mistakes with them, is far more nurturing towards his boys and girls. 

Thankfully this was course corrected next season. While Scrooge’s greed was properly restored.. this sort of treatment wasn’t. “Treasure of the Found Lamp” had him undergo character development and realize simply hoarding his treasures isn’t right or fair, and set up a musuem wing so both duckburg and his descendants can see them and get the stories behind them. And on not getting to take things clearly he’s eithe relaxed or stopped the policy as our heroes do have souveneers from time to time. Not a LOT mind, but little things like Dewey having a giant sword or Scrooge outright giving Louie one of his things show he did soften up. Though Della’s return and likely lack of tolerance for this stupid policy in the first place probably helped a lot, I also like to think he did change a bit and realize it was deeply unfair they didn’t get more than a few treasures of their own. So the writers did realize they kind of went overboard here.  I suspect this was more to setup for the episode’s subplot and to make Scrooge’s karma at the end feel justified. Speaking of which we get the start of said Subplot as Beakley comes in with a money cart and the news the board called. Why they called his house instead of his phone I don’t know, some things slip through the cracks when you running both a billion dollar company an da trillion dollar fiendish organization  for world larceny. I mean they clearly worked themselves so hard the other two apparently died between seasons. That or it was the diet of whiskey, orphan tears and grease in a wine glass both had. Bradford always told them it’d kill them though to his credit he only said I told you so twice at their funeral. 

For once no their not mad Scrooge is spending all the money they use to buy fowl jetskis, but because the Company’s having a bit of a PR nightmare now that Scrooge is back in the adventuring game. And we cut to the beanstalk they just adventured on having tore up a good chunk of the town and destroyed large swaths of it just to sell the point this isn’t their normal old man yells at other old man for spending all me money schitck, but a serious problem. As such they’ve booked him an interview with Roxanne Fetherly to improve his image and the companies. 

Scrooge scoffs at this, baffled why he has bad pr as his adventuring is GOOD for the city in the long run: He pays for any damages it causes, and likely at a cost no less which is a LOT coming from scrooge, and puts most of the money he makes on these adventures back into the city and his company, creating more jobs and better living conditions. He does get a wakeup call via  truly hilarous gag as Launchpad pops his head up to say “Good news mr. mcdee, it missed the orphange!” before getting ready to chainsaw the stalk for him. He quickly realizes MAYBE he needs some PR and agress to the interview. 

 This whole subplot really plays into one of the series main themes, one Frank brought up a few months back: Risk vs Reward. Adventuring is entirely about this, that adventure is dangerous, can cost you a lot as we see with Della and the aftermath of her terrible decision making, and can hurt people.. but it can also help people, bring money to those who need it, free those who are being oppressed and open new worlds to everyone. This subplot distills it down great: Scrooge is right that his adventures do bring in money, and as seen with the first episode brought in clean water and power with no drawbacks and only asked to be paid for it, which is fair given he still has to run machines and likely help relocate any workers whose jobs are now redundant to other parts of the company and retrain them. But it costs people their homes and jobs, not forever but still as long as it takes to construct, tears up roads and puts people in danger. It’s plots like this that make Bradford the perfect final boss for the series: He’s someone who blinds himself to the reward of all this and only sees the risk, and raises valid points even if he himself is deeply wrong. He’s right Scrooge causes a lot of danger and threat to the world.. but wrong in that he dosen’t see it’s all worth it for the good of everyone. 

But enough about future story arcs let’s get back to this one, as Webby excitedly greets Lena and hugs her, realizes she’s not hugging her back then gives her another squeeze anyway after claming to hate hugs when just a LOOK at Webby would tell you that’s false. The two are having a sleepover, Webby’s first ever.. and given Lena’s essentially an Emo Hobo and the closest thing she has to home is that starlight ancient amptheater that’s never properly explained. Seriously ancient ruins near Duckburg dosen’t suprise me, but at least tell me what they are and why Magica chose them. And why Louie hasn’t tried to sell tickets to Dewey boxing a gorilla in them. Or probably a possum I mean their on a budget and gorillas snap necks, but still i’d pay to see that as would we all. 

Point is it’s their first sleepover and naturally Webby’s first bit of smalltalk.. is how tucking in can be used for interogation techniques. I’d be more suprised if earlier this season it hadn’t already been shown Beakly regularly enrolls her daughter in the no murder, unless you really want to, hunger games every year. The fact Webby hasn’t become the bat is only because she hasn’t found a costume that’s the right combintion of pinks and purples to instill pantswetting terror yet. That shit takes time. 

Lena goes to the bathroom.. to talk to Magica who we properly get to meet. She did speak last time, but this ep is the one that properly establishes her personality for the reboot: she has clever plans, tons of power, if sealed currently, and is a genuine threat.. but she’s also a bit of a ham, in love with the old ultra violence and really short sighted in her plans, something we got hints of last time as her best solution to the Beakly Problem was  to just leave her to die and hope scrooge and webby, two people who love solving mysteries and unlocking puzzles, don’t investigate the horrifying death, accident or not, of their only friend and grandmother, and that neither, especially the 12 year old spiraling with grief, would suspect a former spy died. Thoguh in fairness on the spy thing it’s plausable Magica didn’t know that, but still it’s a bad plan. Magica has good ideas but is just so obessed with the brute force way of doing things she forgets the subtle approach works better.. and so far it has well for Lena.  Problem is it’s VERY clear by this point that Lena likes Webby, maybe not romantic styles JUST YET but it’s getting there. Webby on the otherhand has been in love with Lena from the freaking concept art which showed her blushing around her.. and that was in her 87 design.. which they thankfully changed. It’s not terrible but it just dosen’t fit well with this universe. Point is Lena is catching feelings and Magica realizes this and tries to gaslight her telling her she’d never acccept the truth abotu her and so on. As we all know and as we’ll see that’s bullshit but it’s an effective manipulation. We also find out Magica’s plan: she had Lena sneak a jewel into the treasure going into the bin, and it’s going to turn into a monster that will seek out the Number One Dime for them. She also vaugely hints that there’s something Lena needs from Magica. 

Once Lena returns, and Webby let’s her rabbit know the interogation isn’t over, she gives her possible future girlfirend a gift: friendship bracelets! They both put them on and it’s really fucking cute.. and will be both a tangible symbol of hteir friendship and a plot point several times, something I honestly hadn’t thoguht about till now. Lena, put off by the gesture not because she dosen’t aprpciate it because of the crushing guilt of lying to the one person who cares about her under the insucrtions of a sociopath, goes to Webby’s big old corkboard which is always fun to look at.. especially since it’s clearly the ONLY glimpse at Hortense we’re going to get all series. 

We’re not getting Grandma Duck either. Though at least Frank actually regrets that one. But the important part is one of the posts mentoniing Scrooge hates magic, something Webby elaborates on: He hates spells, hexs curses and what not and feels them a shortcut.  From the man who has a garage full of them. 

I do kid as I did realize there’s a valid expliantion for this: Scrooge will use magical items, protection spells that sort of thing.. but he uses them like anything else as needed. He’s too pragmatic to not say, use the jewel of atlantis to give a city clean energy and water he can montizie, or the split sword against FOWL.. but more often than not he just dosen’t need them. He collects them because it’s fun, oftne profitable.. and their simply SAFER in his museum wing, garage and second bin will get to in two weeks. He’s seen time and time again how people misuse magic, forget it has a price, or just rely on it instead of actual skill. He’s also clearly been on the bad end of a LOT of evil sorcerers and soreceresses, especially magica. Magic isn’t inherently bad, which in itself is a BIG message of Lena’s arc, it’s just somethign that’s the OPPPSOITE OF everythign scrooge is: sacrifcing others for power, relying on something besides yourself, distance attacks versus up close and personal phsycial attacks.. it was never going to be for him and tons of bad experinces with it only cemented it. He’s just not so stubborn outside of the santa thing to avoid something if it’s going to net him a profit or come in a pinch. 

So naturally Scrooge has banned any magic books from his house, as he has no use for spellcasting and any he’d need to keep for saftey or history’s sake are likely at the archives, but just as naturally, Webby smuggled one in and wants to try it with Lena ducking it and asking to play some games. I”m sure Huey has a few yugioh decks in his room go bug him. But before they can decide on one, the boys attack for a PILLOW FIGHT.... which is a sweet gesture and them just wanting to hang out, but ends with them all eating the ground and questioning why they thought attacking the duck equilvent of cassandra cain was a good idea. Louie decides to salvage it with a swim.. but since their pool has a boat in it he has a diffrent location in mind: the bin.

So while they head off to get head injuries, Beakly tries to prepare Scrooge as the Media are vultures and looking for the next scandal with public figures and it’s accurate. But given Scrooge’s natural mood is grumpus, this dosen’t go well at all and even a spray bottle dosen’t exactly help.. I mean it is the best method to deal with grumpy old men but it can only do so much. 

At the bin we get a lovely bit as Dewey prepares to dive and his brothers treat it like an olympic one, with both doing commentary, Dewey’s apparently response to if he was worried about brain damage was Nerp, and we get the wonderous national anthem of dewdonia. Just nice as well as lovely to see the brothers just having a crack and enjoying each others company with their own weird injokes but without the injokes feeling as forced as they were in “Beagle Birthday Massacre”. Things take a turn though as we see just what magica created with the stone... a giant shark made of scrooges money who eats that fucker in a single bite.. in this case Dewey. Louie and Huey naturally run off panicked.

So while Huey and Louie gain another scarring memory to tell their therapist when their older, Scrooge begins his interview with Roxanne Fetherly who.. honestly just weirds me out. Not for any personality stuff but because she has green feathers. And it just.. really feels WEIRD. I mean green ducks are a thing in real life.. but it just looks off to have such a pastel color on a duck when the other colors are white or tones meant to invoke real world races, allowing ducks to be black, latino, asian and so on and so on coded. That’s fine and blends in fine.. but with that metaphor the green just really dosen’t fit well at all. It feels like an early decision they made, but decided not to retcon or go with for anyone else which makes it all the more weird. We’re 3 seasons in , almost at the end, and the only other green duck we’ve seen was like that because of magic and the offputting nature of it WORKS for magica. Here I just don’t get it and I never well. But naturally Roxanne starts in on invasive, gotcha questions with no real good answers or time to respond, so fox news level questions, and then asks what part of ireland he’s from. 

Naturally that sets him off so while that rant goes on, literally next time we see him he’s still going on about it, we cut to the girls playing truth or dare.. and given Webby’s first question is about deepest darkest secrets the boys once again save her by running in... to report on the monster she created that just ate their brother. Lena brushes it off but does get them not to go to scrooge claming he’ll throw them to the shark himself. I mean he’s not comics scrooge so he probably woudln’t but their also two scared 11-12 year olds so it works well enough. They just need a way to go after the money shark. Enter launchapd who in the second best bit of the episode, says he sensed his best friend dewey was in danger. Beck’s delivery is what sells it.. and I’m not going to question it. He’s somehow alive despite presumibly living off a diet of spaghett-o’s, barely avoiding a car accident on his best days, and as we’ll find out later believing children in costumes are monsters he summoned when he was 8. The fact he suddenly has spider sense specifically related to people he cares about is honestly less of a surprise than the fact he’s not in heaven crashing God’s Speedboat into God’s Golden Castle with God’s Golden Lion riding shotgun. 

So they do the natural thing and.. steal Donald’s houseboat while he sleeps. He has no more involvement in this episode other than noticing it’s back and not in great condition at the end. I bring this up because this is one of Donalds ONLY apperances this season, and it’s part of the larger more irritating problem that he’s hardly ever used.. despite promoting him as a major part of the series. 

I will talk about this more during the Della arc as i’ts more relevant there, but needless to say it bothers me a lot and not knowing how to ballance it’s massive main cast was a constant struggle for the series even up to the final episodes going on right now. 

So our heroes head out on the bin late at night, where could the Jaw$ be she’s nowhere in sight. So they decide to use other treasure as a lure they either fished out of a bin or out of scrooge’s bathwater. How bathing in coins gets him clean I don’t know and frankly I dont’ think we want the answers to that and the idea of scrooge fully naked is so horrifying I forgot what I was talking about.

Ah yes our heroes are playing bait the money monster and find out it’s a shark, and Lena.. is not okay with that and goes to talk to Magica inside the boat. Magica tells us she has a name, Tiffany. Awww what a lovely name for a money shark. I would of gone with Rags to Bitches, but I may have brain damage.  Lena understandabily does not like the idea of getting eaten by a shark, asked to be informed and while Magica is mad at her for going after the thing, Lena reasonably points out that it was this or Scrooge got involved.  Up top Huey tries catching it with a bit of treasure on a rope.. after not shutting up about shark facts because “Facts comfort me when i’m nervous!” Precious angel. But Huey’s leg gets caught and he and Louie, somehow on the latter get thrown up in the air and chomped. Back bellow Webby has a suggestion: using magic. Lena naturally not wanting to blow her cover or really liking magic period is against it for now. 

Back at the interview, Roxanne brings on a special guest to prove people don’t like scrooge: GLOMGOLD!

Glomgold may create some issues for the subplot and we’ll get to those in due time, but damn if it isn’t always a pleasure to see him. He’s also on good terms with Roxanne... are.. are we sure this is local news and not fox news? Taking the word of a conservative greedy billionare over a progressive one seems like a fox move. Though I might actually watch fox news if glomgold was a commentator.  “I propose a red new deal instead of this blasted green new deal, I throw Scrooge to a tank of sharks connected to a generator, the tank turns red with his blood and that somehow creates power! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT MCDUCK” 

So we get the best bit of the episode as Glomgold tries to complain about his building being destroyed which would be fair... if he hadn’t tried to blow up Scrooge’s bin twice this week, with Glomgold going for THREE.. for threee.. for three... it dosen’t go off but it does get scrooge to say he’s glad the building was destroyed. Which is fair but NOT super great PR.  

Back at the shark things don’t get better as Webby and Lena argue over the use of magic, I mean as much as they can argue Webby just wants to know why she’s so cagey about this while they go with plan “Launchpad crash into it”. Launchpad also gives a hell of a monologue. Good on you bud. As you can see launchpad’s gotten 100% better since his low point in our last episode. That’s because it’s clear the writers had some struggle ballancing his amped up stupidity with actual competence, making him primarily jokey comic relief in the first few episodes and I wouldn’t be shocked if Terror of The Terra Firmians was written before a lot of the later episodes despite airing around the same time. But by mid-season he’s got his much more lovable charactersation of a dangerous moron..l but one who CAN be competent and is genuinely charming due to how much he cares about his friends and his job. They also dialed down the stupid down to an acceptable homer simpson level: still a danger to himself and others but hilariously so. Point is they fixed it and while i’ll complain about mistakes the show made I will give this crew all the credit for course correcting time and time again and actually listening to fan feedback.

So Webby figures they tried the Jaws option and lost the boat and launchpad, time for plan Magic. They hold hands, EEEEEEEEE, and try a spell.. and it clearly starts working but almost works TOO well, as Lena starts glowing first purple.. then blue. Hmmmm... intresteing. Lena breaks it off and Tiffany breaks out of the bin.. just as scrooge says on the news his adventures aren’t dangerous. 

Scrooge naturally goes to face it while Webby wonders why Lena didn’t go for it. To make it a triple Scrooge shows up in time to distract tiffany.. with the number one dime, which as lena found out earlier is on his person rather than at the bin like the public thinks. So while Scrooge puts up a good show.. seriously it’s really awesome and really neat looking, though he also gets VERY upset that people are naturally holding out buckets for the cash shark, which he’s not happy about because well.. he did EARN that money. Most bin money is stuff directly earned by him so fair enough. But while he’s you know, Scrooge Fucking McDuck, and thus puts up a good fight the monster eats him.. and gets the dime stuck in it’s tooth with Magica wanting Lena to grab for it, forgetting that minons, while mildly disposable, aren’t really replaceable when your SOUL’S ATTACHED TO THEM. That’s where Magica’s weakness is. her plans aren’t half bad but as I said, she’s far too bloodthirsty and short sighted. She has better ones than glomgold but ironcially they share the same problem of not thinkign them through. And Magica cares so little for lena she’s blinded to the fact her own personal saftey is tied up in her. 

Lena naturally dives for her future girlfrriend and heads into the belly of the beast. And it’s here her REAL moment of truth is. While the one last episode was noble.. it was also easy enough to brush off internal as pragmatisim. Letting Beakly die would’ve brought too much heat and been too easy to quickly go terrible, while saving her got her off Lena’s trail and gave her free reign of the manner. But here? Webby is about to slip into Tiffany’s stomach and whle she hasn’t digested anyone yet given who made Tiffany with it’s likely just because she hasn’t had enough mass to create chainsaws to carve them all up. It’s the Dime or Webby. Lena’s own freedom or the girl she loves. Nothing good comes from saving Webby.. other than Webby. Other than the one person whose truly loved her. I mean think about it: She was created by magica, abused for a good decade and a half. No one but Magica has had a chance to care about her and as we’ve seen Magica only sees her as a weapon to get back at scrooge and not as a person. Webby was the first person she’s ever made a genuine connection with, that’s been there for her, that loves her unconditionally and woiuld be there for her no matter what. And it’s in that moment Lena realizes she can’t sacrifice her for her own good... that after years of having to be selfish to surivive being chained to that monster... she can’t be this time. No mastter what it costs her.. Webby is priceless. So Lena recites the spell, growing bright blue and blowing up tiffany. Lena gladly hugs webby who reciorpates, awww gaybies, and Launchpad hugs dewey. Awww... what it’s still precious he’s a good surrogate uncle. The wacky kind who sleeps in a van on your lawn. 

So Scrooge is glad.. though it’s here his subplot falls flat. Him getting attacked by the media and getting a compupance by loosing tons of money from tiffany is fine. Evne if he earned it, his lack of care did bring this on him.. hte problem is they take it too far by having all his nemies show up, him unable to say anything and glomgold blatantly doing so just to steal from him. Otherwise the subplot is fine, a bit heavy on scrooge being a dick but it has to to work and puts him in an awkward situation. But this ending just feels to over the top to realy enjoy. And the series does do over the top humor well so I don’t know what happened here. But having a bunch of outright thieves steel his money instad of a bunch of citizens who didn’t know better and deserved it for the damage, feels wrong and it tastes wrong. 

Speaking of feels wrong and tastes wrong we get an INTEINTONAL dose of that as back at the amptheater, Lena and Magica argue about the situation and Magica trying to kill her. Lena tries to walk away but can’t.. phsyically. Magica won’t let her. And this is honestly a very crushing and very well crafted metaphor for how abuse victims sometimes CAN’T escape their abusers. Magica is verbally abusive, treats lena like she’s disposable and constnatly downtalks her self esteem. To Lena magica is nothing but a tool.. but like MANY children caught in horrifcally abusive situations Lena can’t get away. It’s a literal metaphor, an da good one, for how you can’t ALWAYS escape abuse easily, and this especially true for kids who have nowhere to go and hte law on their abusers side more often than not. It’s hard to escape an abusive parent and even harder when they dont’ consider you a person. I thankfully have no personal experince with this but it dosen’t make it any less of a problem nor any less noble of this show to tackle the subject in a frank, if fantastical, way, and a good chunk of Lena’s arc is overcoming this abuse and not letting her abusive past drown her. But for now.. all she can do is agree to do what Magica says till she can hopefully be rid of her. But the light at the end of the tunnel’s coming.. there’s just a whole lotta darkness first. 

Next Time: We take a break from the episodes to cover some Lena related comics for a double feature; The first Spies Like Us has everyones faviorite lesbian ducks go on a spy adventure that was never printed in the us for silly reasons we’lll get to and then the 87 ducktales comic dime after dime which features Lena’s predecessor Minima. 

Later Today: Close Enough Season 2 is here! I”m going to talk about it! Exclimation Points! 

If you liked this review feel free to follow for more. And if you have an episode of Ducktales or another animated show you’d like me to cover just hit me up via my asks or direct messages on here and comission it. And if you’d rather just support me on a monthly basis, head over to my patreon. THE LINK IS RIGHT HERE.  Even a buck a month would help and the more of you that donate the closer we get to my Duckcentric stretch goals. The current closest ones are 15, which would lead to reviews of The Goofy Movies and Treasure of the Lost Lamp, and 20 which would lead both to a review of the Super Ducktales mini series, and monthly darkwing duck reviews! So if you like me talking about ducks and want to bolt some duck reviews to the schedule, even a dollar a month would inch me closer to that goal. Eveyr bit helps. But money or not, it’s been a pleasure and i’ll see you at the next rainbow. 

[mostlycompetentwriter]

My Pace (Drabble)

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Hwang Hyujin (SKZ)

Warnings: Smut and Language

Genre: Street Racer AU

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: Initially, Y/N only came to the race track because she wanted to keep a close eye on her mischievous little brother, Seungmin. She certainly didn’t expect to catch the attention of one of the racers who seems determined to impress her.

I loved the rare mornings when the sky was nothing but an endless blue paradise, undisturbed in its picturesque setting. During the Summer, that often precluded long, miserable hot days, but in the Fall, the weather was much more tolerable. It also marked the start of my town’s local racing league, which basically meant that a bunch of high-school and college-aged teens showed up at the abandoned track downtown to race their sports cars.

They could race for hours, swerving dangerously around the curves and accelerating close enough to touch bumpers with the car in front of them. The smell of gasoline and burnt rubber was pervasive, and all the other girls seemed to go crazy. They would scream and cheer for the cars as they zoomed past the stands as if the drivers insider could possibly see their individual faces.

In all honesty, it actually wasn’t so bad, especially when they opened the concession stand booth because I could occupy my time with candy snacks and popcorn. But the only reason I even came to the track was because of my younger brother, Seungmin. If he wanted to sneak out of the house undetected by my parents to race, then I felt the need to follow him and ensure that he kept out of trouble. In such a dangerous and high-risk sport, I only wanted the best for my little brother.

I also knew that it would be impossible to dissuade his passion for racing, so it was best to simply linger around the edges of the track and watch him. Because, for the most part, the other competitors never tried to do anything too outlandish. They obeyed the rules since they couldn’t risk getting kicked out, and some of the older students even invited everyone to bonfire parties after the events. 

But I never went to those parties. I was only at the track to watch over Seungmin, and I trusted him enough to spend the night with Jeongin if he drank too much. You see, Seungmin enjoyed the social aspect of the races just as much as the actual competition, and he had tried to introduce me to his friends. They seemed nice enough, even if I only ever saw them after races with sweat perspiring on their skin, but I wasn’t looking for long-term friendships at the track. Because, at the end of the day, I didn’t share Seungmin’s passion for racing or the sleek model cars with impossibly loud engines.

Of course, that didn’t mean that Seungmin’s friends weren’t also disinterested in my company. Especially Hwang Hyunjin, the tall and lanky 16-year-old who embodied the phrase: “rebel without a cause.” Hyunjin always smoked cheap cigarettes while he waited for his partner-in-crime, Han Jisung, to make repairs under the hood of his Mustang. Apparently, the car was more trouble than it was worth, but Hyunjin had nothing else to race, so he was forced to worry over the engine on a regular basis.

He was very attractive, especially his figure, and I had caught myself staring a time or two when he crawled out from his car after a race. And Hyunjin also had long, blonde-colored hair that he pulled back away from his handsome face, exposing the expanse of his forehead and the proud cheekbones that stood out prominently. He always wore black jeans that were too big for him, and some corny t-shirt that hung limply from his shoulders. He was an irresponsible teen who didn’t seem to care that much for his safety, and he always made an effort to talk to me at the racing events, even though I had tried to make it clear that I wasn’t interested in his conversation.

For example, after one such event, Hyunjin arrogantly posed with his recently won trophy after securing first place yet again, wiping his greasy shirt sleeves against the plaque on the front. He easily found me in the stands, dropping the trophy onto the bleachers next to me before offering his best smile. “Did you see me, Y/N?” Hyunjin asked. “I was six seconds ahead of your brother.”’

“Hmmm?” I replied, entirely disinterested as I scanned through the contents of my phone screen.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin tried again, and he boldly reached out to lower my phone screen and force my attention. “I’m having a party at my place tonight. You’ll come, right?”

I smirked. “I don’t go to those parties, Hyunjin.”

“You don’t?” Hyunjin hesitated, and a decidedly chastened look affected the usual arrogance of the smile that he was clearly forcing. 

I guess that was enough to make me feel a little bad when I thought about Hyunjin’s poor attempts at flirting. “I can maybe come over for an hour.”

Hyunjin immediately brightened, shoulders rising as he cleared his throat and fetched a cigarette from his grease-stained pocket. He held the unlit stick between his teeth. “I’ll see you there.”

It only took me exactly fifteen minutes to hate the party at Hyunjin’s house.

His parents must never come home very much because Hyunjin didn’t seem to care that his friends were trashing everything, littering the floors with discarded bottles of beer and food wrappers. It was a complete mess, and the music was too loud, thunderous with some kind of generic bass that had me retreating outside to find some fresh air. However, I was surprised to find Hyunjin outside as well, smoking as he looked out into the darkness. “Oh,” I said, drawing his attention. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not,” Hyunjin said with a raspy tone, beckoning me closer with a delicate crook of his fingers. “I needed a break too.”

“It’s your party,” I reminded him, and Hyunjin laughed, running his fingers through his messy hair.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin agreed. “But sometimes it can get crazy with the older kids.”

“I guess you don’t mind that they’re trashing your place?”

“I’ve got people who can clean that for me,” Hyunjin said, but it wasn’t boastful. In fact, there was a hint of resentment in his tone that he quickly banished with a shake of his head. “Hey, you want to see something?” 

I nodded because I had nothing better to do, following him to the back of the house where he messed with a combination panel on the side of the building to reveal the inside of an impressive garage. “Holy shit,” I cursed, surveying the dozens of collector cars decorating the inside. 

“They’re my dads,” Hyunjin said, tossing aside his cigarette before leading me to the first car. “He won’t let me drive them.”

“What’s the point, then?” I asked around a laugh. “I might not know much about cars or racing, but these seem pretty impressive.

“Which one do you like the most?” Hyunjin asked, and I pointed to the cherry-red Corvette. “You have good taste.”

He reached for my hand, and I shivered at the contact, allowing him to pull me closer to the gorgeous model. “He takes good care of them,” I remarked, and I was too afraid to touch the glistening paint.

“You want a closer look?” Hyunjin asked, reaching for the door handle of the passenger side without really waiting for my response.

“Okay,” I said, waiting for Hyunjin to recline the seat before carefully leading me into the back. I laughed at the absurdity of the situation before I lowered my head to accommodate the car’s smaller height, and I made sure to close the door behind us...just in case.

In the meantime, Hyunjin and I crowded together in the backseat, brushing shoulders while he giggled and reached for my hand between us. “This is kinda sexy, right?” he asked, and I scoffed at his claim.

“What do you mean?” I asked, wholly unprepared for the way he moved in closer, making the space between us even smaller.

“You know I like you, Y/N,” Hyunjin said, and I could feel his breath fanning across my face. “I didn’t think I was exactly subtle.”

“No,” I agreed, studying his eyes and the fascinating way they seemed to reflect the light from the garage. “But you know I only show up for my brother.”

Hyunjin sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before coming to a realization. “That doesn’t mean you can’t like it.”

His lips hovered against mine, almost teasingly, like he was testing his limits. “Hyunjin...”

He silenced me with a gentle kiss, and Hyunjin tasted like cigarettes and alcohol, but I ignored the combination as I allowed him to lick inside my mouth. It was actually really good, and he knew exactly what he was doing, pulling back only to reclaim my lips again before I could question whether or not this was a good idea. “Y/N,” he eventually whispered, looking at me with lust-filled eyes. “Please.”

I traced the swollen purse of my bottom lip before nodding, allowing him to pull me into his lap as our kisses grew feverish. It felt like there were fireworks going off all around us, electrifying the air and blinding my senses. But I was enraptured with the feeling of Hyunjin’s touches, and I started to trail my hands underneath his shirt, surprised when my fingers ran across the hard lines of his abdomen.

Oh, so there was muscle underneath those baggy clothes. 

“Turn around,” he whispered, and he helped me carefully maneuver myself in our limited space. It was difficult, but Hyunjin pulled me against his chest, adjusting our positions so that his hand could crawl its way under the waistband of my shorts. 

I whimpered when I felt his fingers tease the edge of my panties, and his other hand directed my chin to the side so that he could distract me with another kiss. It was a distraction that proved worthwhile, and I became lost in the hypnotic feel of his lips while his fingers started to part the folds of my labia, prodding at the entrance of my wet pussy.

I gasped into our kiss, stroking his tongue with messy movements while he started to thumb across my clitoris, providing the perfect stimulation in addition to the slow penetration of his fingers. “So beautiful,” he remarked, looking at me with hooded eyes, and I could see the way the muscle in his arm started to flex as he scissored his fingers against the sensitive walls of my pussy.

“Hyunjin,” I tried again, trying to fight the heavy fog weighing down on my shoulders as I relaxed further into his touches, allowing him to support me against his chest while his sinful fingers continued their work on pleasuring me. The squelching sounds becoming loud and downright vulgar in the narrow space of the car’s backseat.

“What a dirty girl, Y/N,” Hyunjin remarked, and he was suddenly moving faster, sliding his fingers through my juices while flicking his thumb across my throbbing clitoris. He handled me with such skill, and I was turned on beyond belief as I fell apart on his fingers, chasing his lips for more kisses as my hips started kicking in time to his rapid thrusts.

I swallowed around a moan when the heat became unbearable, and my legs started to shake, fighting to close against the intrusion of his fingers. I could feel myself teetering on the precipice, closing my eyes to savor the pleasurable ache building in my lower abdomen, muscles clenching tightly as I exhaled around the sudden and explosive release. I cried loudly as a result, chasing the fiery waves of my orgasm while Hyunjin removed his hand, bringing his fingers to his lips to lick over the evidence of my arousal.

I shivered at the sight before I reached behind me, squeezing his cock through the loose material of his pants. Meanwhile, Hyunjin removed his fingers from his mouth, turning his gaze to my hand as it gave his cock some much-needed attention. Eventually, I grew frustrated with the barrier of his pants, turning around in the narrow space to support myself on my knees as I helped him tug down his jeans and boxers. Immediately, his cock sprung free from the restrictive material, standing proudly against his stomach. 

And I was practically salivating, tracing one finger against the head of his cock and watching as he jerked in response. “Y/N,” Hyunjin whined, and I allowed my hand to enclose itself around his erection, squeezing at the base because it seemed to drive him insane. And I tugged at him with lazy movements, studying the way his head fell back against the window, breaths coming out in harsh pants that continued to fog up the glass surrounding us. 

When I pulled my hand away, Hyunjin opened his eyes, looking at me desperately as I spread out my legs and lowered myself to meet his cock at eye-level. He understood my intentions, lacing his fingers through my hair as his hips practically jumped in my face. I stilled them with a glare, swallowing hard as I allowed my tongue to trace across his narrow slit, following the little beads of precum that had gathered at the tip.

Hyunjin exhaled harshly, fidgeting around as he fought to keep himself in place, and I ended his torment by opening my mouth and taking him inside the wet cavern. He moaned with delight at the sensation, brushing my bangs out of my eyes as I took him even deeper, deciding that the taste of his precum was preferable to the alcohol and cigarettes from earlier.

I wasn’t that experienced with sucking cock, but I knew the basics, and Hyunjin seemed to be enjoying my efforts. Huffing around little whines as he begged me for more. And I was willing to give him everything, hollowing my cheeks as I felt the tip of his cock touch the back of my throat, forcing me to gag around his erection. “Do that again!” Hyunjin said, and I complied with his request, deep throating him until I couldn’t breathe before pulling off and using my hand to tug at his foreskin.

He was incredibly soft to the touch, and I could tell that he was close, hips practically humping against my fingers. I smiled at the sight of Hyunjin because he looked totally wrecked and ruined, but I still wanted to know what he looked like when I took him completely apart. So, I returned my lips to his cock, swallowing him down around a moan. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Hyunjin chanted, like it was his life’s mantra, forcing his cock down further as I tried to relax the muscles in my throat.

Tears were falling from the corners of my eyes, and my jaw was starting to ache from his girth. Still, I managed to persevere, and I heard his warning just before I tasted his cum on my tongue as he released down my throat. I swallowed hard to force it down, groaning as his taste lingered on my tongue. Afterward, Hyunjin sighed in relief, wiping the sweat from his brow as he petted at my cheeks with gentle fingers. I looked up at him as I pulled back from his cock, and the flaccid length fell between us as I leaned forward to kiss Hyunjin again, struggling to find purchase on his chest.

“Thank you,” I finally managed, meeting his intense gaze as he grabbed my face between his hands to press his lips against the tear-stained tracks falling down my cheeks.

“You’re so good, Y/N,” Hyunjin said, and he pulled me closer into a necessary embrace, and I savored the warmth from his chest as we both came down from our highs.

I guess the next time I came to the track, I would be sure to look for Hyunjin.

[unholyhelbig]

Title: The Victorian

Ship: Jemma Simmons/ Daisy Johnson

Summary: Jemma Simmons is offered a position as a local biologist in Georgetown South Carolina, effectively moving her family across the country to a southern-style victorian house. Strange things start to happen and they’re suddenly pulled into a supernatural nightmare. With the help of a coworker, the next-door neighbors, and a renowned Ghost Hunting team, the Simmons/ Johnson household fight against forces unseen.

The house loomed over the inlet. Its white exterior had been mossed over in some areas, sharp and green compared to the off-white paneling. Soft orange hummingbird vines hid any blemishes, their green tendons twisting through the delicate lattice that moved over the left side of the home.

There was a worn stone birdbath and a deep green hedge that lined the back of the property. Past that was a deck that moved into the watery swamps that smelled thickly of fish and saltwater. Even through the car, Daisy could smell it, and her chest swelled with the familiarity of the ocean.

Jemma had a smile across her face. It was warm and welcoming and a little prideful. This was their house, even if they hadn’t seen it until now. There were pictures but it didn’t’ give the southern style home any justice, with its wrap-around porch and large bay windows.

The driveway was gravel and she winced as she pulled the front wheels of their SUV over the dip, welcoming the back wheels with another bump. She stared up at the canopy of trees, willows with seeping Spanish moss, and struggled to keep her focus on her movements. Jemma didn’t’ say a thing, if she noticed, too entranced herself.

“I didn’t’ think it would be this,” Daisy trailed off, bringing the car to a stop.

“Magnificent? Archaic? Stepford wife?”

“Yes,”

She settled for all of the descriptions. She had always wanted a big home and this was a far cry from their two-bedroom in Los Angeles. It was half the price too. There was enough room for her own office and a library because even Ayla enjoyed curling up and flipping through her mothers' books.

Daisy could imagine a tire swing and a nice coat of paint, and the sweet southern breeze seeping through the back screened-in sunroom. She glanced back at the girl, her head leaning against the window and soft rhythmic breaths filling the silence. The jostling of the car hadn’t deterred her from sleep, and neither did the sudden attention trained on her.

“Beautiful too. Kind of… haunted-looking?”

“Oh, don’t start with that. Ghosts aren’t real, and if they are, it’s just”

“Science we don’t’ understand yet, yes sweetheart, I know” Daisy finished her wife’s sentence with a loving smile.

Jemma smiled back and the gesture was warmer than the South Carolina air. She could smell the floral trumpets that lined the wall and gravel crunched under her feet as she emerged from the driver’s side of the car. There was a thick sheen of sweat already forming against her brow.

She rounded to the backseat and opened it with enough gentleness that Ayla didn’t’ stir. She had also become victim to the heat; small whisps of blonde hair clung to her forehead and she breathed in with a little bit more force than before, but still, she didn’t wake from her sleep as Daisy pulled the five-year-old from her car seat and hugged her close.

One shoe had been toed off during the drive here and Ayla’s feet dangled at Daisy’s side as she shifted her to her hip and Jemma shouldered the overnight bag that they had packed for all three of them. They knew it would be a long trip, and it had been, but the moving truck hadn’t beat them here and they figured they would make do with a duffel bag of clothes most worn.

“Darn, I must have the keys here somewhere” Jemma mumbled after they braved the aching steps and stood under the slightly shaded porch. It would be nice for rocking chairs, or string lights.

Daisy’s mind was racing with possibility, even when the door did creak open to reveal a dark and cooling interior from the late ’50s. It had vast cherrywood flooring and a stained-glass side window that caught the sun and drowned the grained wood in color.

There was a long oak staircase and a dining room that had an old table in its center, but no chairs. At least Daisy considered it to be a table. It was covered in a white sheet that was equally covered in dust. Jemma closed the door behind them and looked up at the vaulted ceiling that seemed to stretch until the second-floor landing.

Ayla shifted in her arms and gripped her little hand around the excess fabric of the blue cotton button-down that Daisy wore. She whimpered; nose pressed close to the inside of her mother's neck. The cold had gotten to her and Daisy didn’t want to admit that it instantly dried any damp part of her skin.

“It’s charming,” Jemma sounded out “Needs some love, but certainly not something we didn’t’ account for.”

“Needs some light too,” Daisy said as she stepped further into the house.

The living area was a lot better; it swam with that very light that she was hoping for. She figured that they would set up the air mattress in the trunk right in this room. There were already floral print curtains that could be drawn to keep the nightly creatures from peering in, and the warmth flowing through the two bay windows had begun to thaw her skin.

There was another white sheet, covering a blocky object like a tacky ghost. “A bookcase?”

“A piano,” Jemma corrected “You can see the pedal under the right edge. It’s an old one too. I can’t imagine why anyone would leave it behind.”

Daisy didn't want to entertain the idea of anything causing abandonment other than pure laziness. She wouldn't want to lug a piano onto a moving truck in this kind of Southern heat either. Her arms were starting to ache- Ayla wasn’t as small as she used to be, and she got the nagging urge to wake the girl.

Jemma seemed to read her mind as she always did. She carefully pulled the girl into her arms resulting in a tiny nose scrunch and a little groan, but still not fully awake. Traveling must have taken it completely out of the kid, and truthfully, it took everything out of the mothers too.

They had eaten at the hotel this morning, Daisy demolishing three pancakes while Jemma limited herself to a banana and a few bites of Ayla’s slowly softening cereal. She didn’t’ do well with the winding mountains of Tennessee and had clenched her eyes the entire time, gripping what she called the panic handle.

Other than that, they had shared a bag of trail mix and Daisy squeezed the untouched applesauce pouch into her mouth to quell the rumbling in her stomach, but that had been at the border of North and South and she was getting agitated with hunger now. She considered Jemma and her daughter were more than halfway there themselves.

“I think I saw a Chinese restaurant on the way into town,” She offered, rolling her sore shoulder around “What do you say to an old tradition?”

Jemma smiled again, and it brightened the room even more. The first place they rented together didn’t have power yet and it was above a take-out place that had the best Chicken Lo Mein. They lit a bunch of candles and ate on the floor, a fell asleep in each other’s arms despite the less-than-ideal circumstances.

Daisy took this as confirmation and placed a chaste kiss on her wife’s cheek before fishing her car keys from her back pocket again and stepping into the stifling heat. The door fell shut behind her and her stare instantly fell on a woven basket filled with fresh apples and baked muffins. The scent made her stomach plunge even further.

And there was a man, quite a large one, stalking away from the gift. His shoulders had a wide span and his dark skin glistened in whatever sun the trees allowed through. Daisy stifled a smile of her own.

“Thank you!” She called out

The man turned quickly around. His face was kind despite his large stature and he let out a groan. “See, you weren’t supposed to catch me leaving this. It was going to be an anonymous welcome from the community.”

Daisy walked down the front porch and the man met her halfway, that warm expression still on his face. He wore a flannel over a sweat-dampened tank top despite the heat. He was even taller in person, his hands stained in what Daisy could guess is grease.

“It was my wife’s idea, she saw you guys pull in and threw something together last minute. She’s not used to having neighbors.” He let out a soft chuckle “I told her that ya’ll have L.A plates and that’s not how it works there, but she refused to listen.”

“No, it’s really nice, actually. I’m Daisy… like the flower.” She stuck out her hand.

The man’s own engulfed hers entirely, it was calloused but firm “Mack like the- oh hell, the food?”

“Nice to meet you, Mack. We really do appreciate it, I guess Southern Hospitality is a real thing?”

“Oh absolutely. Look- I’ve gotta get back home, we live right across the way, but on that little note wedged between whatever fruit she could scrounge up, is an invitation to dinner tomorrow night. It’s up to you if you want to accept it or not”

“We’ll be there,” Daisy said. And they would.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror Villains / Misc x Reader || Drabbles

Plot: You accidentally summon Beetlejuice because he convinced you that he could help you with your Slasher problem, but he becomes an even worse problem. So, you need your Slasher to help you exterminate him, instead.

Includes: Chucky / Charles Lee Ray and Freddy Krueger

Warnings: It’s got nasty gremlin man in it (Meaning, gross language, dirty jokes and such), and also Slashers (Meaning, gore, swearing, course and suggestive language). Groping (Himself) 

Notes:

Okay, those of you who were with me at MainstreamBaddies; You remember that post I wrote about some rando killer trying to get the reader, so reader goes to the Slasher that’s also trying to kill them for help?

Well this is basically that but with (Movie) Beetlejuice as the rando.

THERE WAS MEANT TO BE MORE CHARACTERS!! But its late and I wanna slep ^^ Hopefully I’ll do Ghostface and Jason tomorrow! 

~~~

THE START / ‘Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice’

“So… “Worrying my bottom lip, I look from the wall where I can think properly to the small, ‘fun size’ version of ‘Beetlejuice’ who’s looking expectantly at me. Excited even. 

Although I guess that’s a given. If I was that small and had the possibility sitting right in front of me, of growing back to full size, and full power again, I’d be jazzed too. But, still, there’s something very off about this guy, and it isn’t just the fact that he’s the size of maybe 2 thumbs snapped off at the knuckle and taped one on top of the other. He’s very enthusiastic.

In a Gollum-Swamp Monster-Chick Hicks kind of way.

“’So’, what? I don’t have all day baaaaaay – well, I do have all day. I got nowhere to be – not many fun joints for a guy to go to at this size, amiright? Yeah, but, that’s not the point! Do you wanna get rida’ your lil’ problem or not? Eh?” Beetlejuice is practically vibrating, like an alarm clock and I have the most impulsive urge to call his name three times just to stop it.

Luckily, I have impulse control.

“Of course, I do. I… “Eyeing him pointedly, I start wringing my hands. “I just don’t want to create a new problem, in its place.”

He rolls his dark, feral racoon-panda eyes, muttering something lightning quick to himself before throwing out his arms and yelling. “BABE! I promise ya, really, sweetheart. Baby-lemon pie-dumpling-doll-dollar-sugar-tea, I’m just gonna fix your problem! All I want in the world right now is t’ cum-plete our deal! Get rida’ your Slasher, and be on my way! Unless theirs somethin’ else you ask of me, eh? When I’m back to my normal size? You know, I’m big in all the right places sugar tit- “

I took a deep, necessary breath in when he started on the ‘something else’ and now have the required breath to drown out the last words. “Oooookay!! I wont need that.” I say quickly, as a statement. He licks his lips. “But, um… Are you sure you can get rid of them?” ‘Them’. The bane of my existence right now. The co-star in the horror movie of my life. That them.

“Trust me, babe-sickle. It’ll be sinch.” For a moment, he looks absolutely calm. No vibrating, no yelling, no talking really fast. And it hits its intended mark – my assurances. Okay.

“Alright.” I wring my hands one last time, then clap them and step back from the town diorama that Beetlejuice is roaming in. I cross my arms, then drop them to my sides and look around, then finally back at the impatient ghost… who’s doing squats. Good grief, how much energy is in this guy? “Beetlejuice.”

He gasps, jumps up to his feet, nearly falling over because his weight landed wrong and then rubs his hands together. “Here we go!”

“Beetlejuice.”

“Oh. You do it right, babe.”

Oh my god, here we go. Hopefully this can’t make my situation any worse- I mean, I am being targeted by a killer. What are the odds that this goofball of a ghost could ruin my life anymore? “Beetlejuice.”

“PRESTO!”

Human! Chucky / Charles Lee Ray – Chucky’s POV:

I figure this is going to be a pain, when a screech tears from the ugly old house before I even get in. Confused, and more then frustrated because this spells out nothing but problems for me for when I get in, instead of the nice peaceful kill I was intending to enjoy, I open the screen door -bitch didn’t even lock the front door, it’s like she wants me to kill her,- and rush up the stairs to where the sound came from. “Hold on, I’m not there yet!!”

What the hell is going on?!

“Look, in my professional experience, the screamin’ doesn’t start til the killer takes out a knife, sometimes even before but not before I even get into the house, lady. The audacity of you, here- “

What am I looking at here?

In front of my eyes, my fucking eyes, stands of course Y/N, my victim. And some kind of zebra - one that’s been dead and left out in the swamp for a fuck-long time. He’s got crazy eyes if I’ve ever seen them, and have you seen mine? That’s saying something. Who is this joker? In my coat, I grip the gun I keep just in case strangulation goes awry, but don’t bring it out just yet. Not until this guy reveals his cards, first.

The guy’s eyes flicker in smug amusement from my face, to my gun pocket -evidently, he realises something’s up. Can’t blame the guy, damnit, -, then whips right around, leaving his back wide open for me and my weapon, to my facepalming victim. I smirk at her. “I take it that’s the guy you want rid of, toots?”

“Uh… yeah… “She looks adorable and awkward. The guy lets go of her waist, which he was holding close to his body as she leaned away before, when I walked in and he literally, and I’ve never seen any person do this before, halted in his tracks. Stopped breathing, stopped shifting, it even seemed like the history around him stopped for that ‘caught’ moment. And I swear I heard the sound of record music abruptly being turned off come from his mouth.

And for some odd reason, I get the feeling he’s not human. Can’t conjure a reason why, though.

I should be saying this shit out loud, I’m wasted on myself.

Figuring this guy’s been hired to get rid of me, I take out my gun. “Okay, you’re gonna have to catch me up on what’s happening... Oh, no? Well, okay.”

BAM!

A bullet flies across the room and sticks into the freak’s chest, and that is the end of things going my way.

Because the force of the bullet somehow sends him slamming across the room and through a wall in the back. His body goes ‘poot’ down two stories outside and theirs a silence that doesn’t last long enough for either Y/N or I to digest what just fucking happened before the bastard’s grotty fucking hand spiders up my spine from behind. I wriggle out of his reach immediately on impact, because it’s like a real fucking spider, and whip around, waiving my gun- which is useless now, of course.

Games are over.

The guy looks over at Y/N and grins, throwing his arms out in a ‘ta da!’ way. She winces and just narrows her eyes in a glare. “What’d you think of that, sweet cheeks? I got a flare for the dramatic, you know? Ssssexy! Eh?” When she sticks her tongue out at him, for lack of any words to respond to that with I guess -I mean, I, can think of some choice words for the guy, but she’s clearly not as creatively gifted in the art of insult as I have been told I am. But, a tongue out works, - he grins the most fucking horny grin I’ve ever seen and clutches his sack. Her jaw drops.

“Where the ever-loving fuck did you pick crazy pants up from??” I ask, looking accusingly at Y/N. She chews on the inside of her cheeks and looks even more awkward then before.

“Truce?” She asks, instead of answering my question. I’m genuinely curious.

I roll my eyes. “Ughh, fine.”

“Oh well that won’t do,” The guy speaks up again, looking between us and letting his Johnson go, thank god. The boys have to breath! “Baby girl, blossom, light of my FUCKING DEATH! You wound me. riGHT IN THE HEART! Let me show you, sweetgums, why that was a bad idea.”

Her eyes widen, and I suddenly feel real unsafe. “How about you don’t- “

“Watch this!”

He turns to me, makes some overdramatic hand gestures, throwing his back out in the process and momentarily acting like he’s out of order.

Then he whips back into action and shoots me with finger guns,

And then suddenly everything around me looks 4 times bigger then before. Oh, well, its that or… I’m closer to the ground.

Because I’m a fucking doll again.

I slowly look up from the little black baby shoes and the edges of the godamn jean jumpsuit, to the infected condom in black and white grease paint. “… You son-of-a-bitch.”

He chuckles and turns to Y/N, and gives her finger guns too, but the only other thing that happens this time is he winks at her. “Now, baby! Time to get hitched!”

“What?!” She shrieks.

Freddy Krueger – Freddy’s POV:

“I’m going to die of boredom before this bitch catches winks. I’m gonna pummel her with the counting sheep she clearly needs when she gets here.” The corners of my mouth lift up from the deep scowl I was wearing before, at the idea. It has merit.  

Behind me the fine folks of Pompeii run for their lives and a red and green striped Vesuvius explodes molten lava over their little town when I remember it’s been 2 days since she’s fallen asleep. Or found some fucking Hypnocil. Or killed herself. Who knows, really. I have a… deadly effect on women.

But damn, it would be a bummer if she killed herself. I was having fun with her. I had plans.

Have, have. I have plans. I won’t give up hope yet.

An hour, or who knows how long later -time is a human construct and doesn’t exist in the dream plain, - , I’m lying on the ground watching Psycho play in the sky when that familiar tingle rushes through me, telling me someone’s entered my world.

I’m just getting up and brushing myself off, taking my damn time like she left me to wait -besides, I can turn back time and make it seem like I appeared instantaneously if I want to. Time’s a construct, remember? And this is my world. I’m just doing this for me, to make me feel better, - when she comes out of fucking nowhere and nearly knocks me over. Im-ee-diate-ly I open my mouth to ask her why she’s so eager, but she beats me to the punch, causing me sadness.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

Hold on, I definitely think there’s something off here. Don’t I make the fucking demands?! “Bitch- ”

“Wake!”

“-I haven’t done anything to you yet.” 

“Up!”

“Goddamn!”

What is going on here!?

“I’ll do anything you want, just please. Wake me up!” Her eyes are deadly serious, and I can’t help the greedy smile I get at her submissive idea. What could have made her this way? I laugh.

“Ohhh, I’ll think it over. Tempting offer, though~” She lets out a growl and let’s go of me in pure frustration, looks around quickly for something and then lays eyes on my glove. She picks it up, and my eyes widen in surprise at what she does next.

The blade slices through the skin in her upper arm before I can take any control of the situation, and a nauseous feeling suddenly rolls me and she whimpers from the pain of slicing herself open, as the world goes blurry around us and she wakes up- of course, still holding my glove, which is attached to me, so I go with her.

“Fucking he- “

Much quicker than you think it will be, we both turn up back in the fucking reality. She hops up immediately and flies across the room to a first aid box.

I’m just assuming, I mean. Because I don’t make any move to leave the bed at all and just close my eyes and groan, and resist the urge to cry.

I hate this placceeeeeeeeee.

“BABES, YOU’RE BACK!”

Now I resist the urge to scream and phase out of existence, because a man just appeared on the bed with me and called me his babes. Instead, I slowly turn my head to him and sinisterly narrow my eyes- and hope he doesn’t notice my distress from a second ago.

I’m starting to understand why Y/N was so intent on getting back here. If this guy, a dung beetle with… oh, god. Clearly, some kind of terrible illness if that smell indicates anything, was hanging around me while I slept, I’d be… slightly bothered too. If only for the stink!

He squints, and while he does, his hair flickers through the various colours in the rainbow, confused. “Sweetbottom, theirs something different about you. Did you get contacts?”

As a knee jerk reaction, I stab him in the gut with my blades. “Stranger danger, bitch!”

My panic dissolves into glee as I jerk the knives upwards… just to turn back into panic when he starts tearing all the way in half from my stab wound up to the top of his head with minimal effort from me. I gulp, and retreat from him to where Y/N is, taping her bandages securely around her arm. I gesture to the freak who’s padded onto the floor and is zipping himself back together in front of my eyeballs. “… the fuck is that?”

“That’s Beetlejuice, he’s a ghost=

“With the most, baby.” ‘Beetlejuice’ stands up straight and rests his hands on his hips, chest puffed out and winks at Y/N. 

“-What do we do?”  She asks, looking with wide eyes at me. 

What does she think I am? The Fairy Godmother of the dead?? I’m no godmoth-

… I could use this. A slow grin spreads across my mouth. “First, you go over there and distract him.” 

For a split second she looks like she’s actually going to go with it, then looks with furrowed, unimpressed eyebrows at me. ‘Beetlejuice’ makes grabby hands at us, and she starts to look more panicked by the second. “And what will you do??”

I yank the bedroom door open. “Run!!”

[introvert-no-chameleon]

Chapter 2: Monstrous Consequences

I almost forgot to put the text version on Tumblr! 

Here’s chapter 2 of Of Monsters and McGuckets. The next chapter will probably be a big one, since I have a better idea where the story is going now, so it might take longer than just a couple of days for me to write and edit. 

Don’t worry, folks. I fully plan on seeing this fic through. 

Chapter 1 on Tumblr, if you don’t use/like Archive of Our Own.

Fiddleford usually made a point to ignore the way the Pines brothers acted on the rare occasions where they all shared a meal, despite the offense it was to his Southern upbringing. His Ma would’ve slapped him across the head if he didn’t chew with his mouth closed or say grace before every meal (a habit he kept even long after he stopped going to church).

He’d hate to imagine what she’d do if he ever ate like his two housemates. Stanley paid as much mind to table manners as he did the law, which was none. Sometimes he’d chew with his mouth open just to tick Fiddleford off, and even go as far as putting his muddy boots on the table if he really wanted to get a rise out of his boyfriend. On the other end of the spectrum sat Stanford, who either inhaled his food in a hurry to get back to his research or left it on his plate until it got too cold to eat while he made field notes.

Yet even those memories were not nearly as bad as the scene unfolding in front of him. Stanford had his paws splayed on the table, his face shoved on to his plate. Egg and grease smeared all over his mouth, and Stanford didn’t seem to notice. The silverware lay unused next to Stanford’s plate, jingling whenever he shifted to get a better angle.

Fiddleford held the edge of the table in a death grip to prevent his employer from tipping it over, and only for that reason. It certainly wasn’t because he was getting very uncomfortable staring at those large, powerful jaws rip into his bacon with a growl, while he held it in place with one paw, like a lion would, he imagined, tear into a dead gazelle. Nor did it have anything to do with the earlier, far too casual comment about Stanford wanting to maul things.

Not at all. If Fiddleford happened to take a big gulp of coffee that felt like tar coming down his throat, that was just because of something else.

He took a chance to see how Stanley was doing. His boyfriend poked at his food with the edge of a claw, and Fiddleford wondered if he could even eat, or if he needed to in this form. Just as he meant to ask, Stan chewed his bacon, shrugged, tipped the contents inside his mouth, and swallowed his entire breakfast and the ceramic plate with a loud crunch. And burped afterward.

Fiddleford quietly sipped the rest of his coffee for the remainder of the meal and made a note to avoid eating with them until they got turned back to normal.

After the ordeal that was breakfast, they finally began retracing their steps to the lake. The woods in Gravity Falls managed to have an underlying, buzzing energy to it. It felt as if everything, even the trees themselves, were teeming with life, a fact that used to fill Fiddleford with wonderment. However, as he became aware of the fact that not everything in the forest was as keen as respecting sentient life as he was, that excitement got replaced by the kind of dread that settled heavy on his shoulders and wouldn't be shaken off until he was back in the safety of their home.

Stanford was excitedly talking about the notes he’d just made as they walked. Even with his ever-present anxiety, Fiddleford still found himself listening to what little they knew of their most recent discovery.

“I’ve decided to call the mysterious liquid in the lake Fluvius Cantatis,” said Stanford, ducking under a branch. “Judging by the fact that I saw a few deer drink from the lake and suffer no outward symptoms, I’m guessing the water only affects humans.”

Stanley walked right through the branch, snapping it by just walking into it. The man didn’t flinch. Heck, Fiddleford would be surprised if he’d noticed it.

“That’s mighty interestin’,” said Fiddleford. “Perhaps the water’s been enchanted? Or…cursed?” He shuddered at the thought. If exploring Gravity Falls had taught him anything, it was that curses were stubborn, tricky things that weren’t dealt with so easily.

“Both are a possibility,” said Stanford, nonplussed. “If it was, indeed, enchanted, then there’s a good chance that we may be able to figure it out with some study. I’ve learned a few spells from the walls of that cavern we explored while finding Mothman, so it may help us get back to normal.”

“I sure hope so,” said Fiddleford. “There ain’t no tellin’ what might happen if ya stay like this too long.”

“Yeah, like how I’m going to use the toilet when I’m a giant rock,” said Stanley with a smirk.

Stanford rolled his eyes and continued forward.

“Don’t be crude, Stanley,” said Fiddleford.

The gargoyle shrugged. “Just tryin’ to lighten the mood.” He noticed Fiddleford adjust his backpack for the third time in the last minute. “You, uh, need help there, Fidds?”

“If yer careful,” he said, placing the heavy bag on the ground. Now that he was free of the weight, his shoulders began to ache something awful. Fiddleford cracked his back as he straightened up, groaning. For the fourth time that week, he thought about finally getting around to making that appointment with the town chiropractor.

“Jeez, what’re you carrying in this thing?” Stanley picked up the pack and flipped the top open.

Inside were two pairs of thick rubber gloves, a few beakers wrapped in bubble wrap, metal tongues, a thermometer, glass jars with lids and an entire hazmat suit that Stanley had “borrowed” from some godforsaken government facility one night he and Stanford had gotten while drunk out of their minds. (Those were the only details he'd been given in regards to what went down that night, and after careful consideration, Fiddleford decided that it was probably for the best that it stayed that way).

Stanley raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “A bit much, dontcha think?”

Fiddleford huffed. “One of us has to be careful. That lake don’t sit right with me, an’ it’s better if one of us isn’t affected by whatever yer afflictions are.”

Stanley swung the backpack over one shoulder.  “Relax, I’m pretty sure ya gotta bathe in this stuff for it to do anything. Me an’ Ford jumped right into it.”

“We don’t know that,” said Fiddleford. “An’ I don’t want to take any chances.”

Stanley cast a glance at his brother, who was walking ahead of them, focusing on re-discovering the path they’d went on yesterday. He put a hand on Fiddleford’s shoulder. Even with Stanley being as gentle as could be, the weight of his hand felt crushing. He sucked in a breath.

“Sorry! Shit, I didn’t mean—”

“I-it’s okay. Yer just stronger than usual, s’all.”

Stanley’s joints made a grinding sound as he retracted his hand and let it fall by his side. He cleared his throat. “Look, I’m right here whatever happens, alright? And uh,” He cleared his throat. “If Ford gets carried away, just let me know and I’ll wrestle him back to the shack with us if I haveta.”

“I-I may frighten easy, but there’s no need to be tip-toeing around me as if I’m some sorta newborn kitten.” He forced himself to fake what he’d hoped looked like a reassuring smile.

Stanley frowned, and Fiddleford didn’t need a magic spell to know that the man disagreed. “Look, Fidds. I guess we haven’t really talked about this, an’ this might not be the best place to have this conversation, but…I can’t help but notice you’ve been more on edge lately.”

The way he said those things made the Southern man bristle. He crossed his arms. “I don’t follow.” Fiddleford’s tone was about as inviting as a grizzly bear in a picnic. “Whatever happened to me bein’ more assertive?”

“Hey, I meant that. But…” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. The friction made a grinding sound that only served to worsen Fiddleford’s nerves. “Fidds. Come on. You jump outta your seat if you so much as see a gnome—”

“Those little devils kidnapped me, if ya haven’t forgotten!”

Stanley winced, probably remembering the “Gnome Incident”, as they all called it. It was a sore subject for Fiddleford. Not only did he get mistaken for a woman, but he also ended up getting dragged halfway through the forest by an army of small but astonishingly strong men while tied up like a hog. When Stanley and Stanford came to help after at least a half-hour of humiliation, they’d gotten so many bite marks and bruises from the whole rescue mission that they’d almost considered going to the hospital. The remaining shred of their dignities had been the only reason they hadn’t.

As if that all hadn’t been bad enough, the ropes had left some nasty cuts on Fiddleford’s wrists and ankles. It took weeks for them to heal, and to this day Stanley would still punt away any gnomes that were unfortunate enough to be in Fiddleford’s vicinity.

“Yeah, that’s my point. You’ve just been more jumpy, and…” Stanley seemed to be struggling to get the words out of his mouth. He was squirming where he stood.

In other circumstances, Fiddleford wouldn’t have given him such a hard time. Stan was being more open with his emotions, and that wasn’t easy for him. The young scientist just wished it hadn’t been this particular subject he’d decided to be open about. “An’ what?”

“Look, I’m getting’ kinda worried. You looked like you were about to have a heart attack this mornin’ when we came to the shack.”

Fiddleford set his jaw. “Is that what this mornin’ was? Ya thought that I’d still have my tail stuck between mah legs even after I knew it was you?” He hadn’t expected his anxiety to be so obvious, and now that he knew it was, it was like having someone tear his clothes off in the middle of the town. “Well, excuse me for exercisin’ some caution!”

Stan raised his hands at him, defensively. “Hey, that ain’t what I meant.”

Fiddleford squared his shoulders. “You think that just ‘cause I’m not as well-adjusted to this town’s strangeness as the two of ya, I should just stay inside and have my nose in a book or tinkerin’ away while ya and yer brother do all the dangerous work!”

In actuality, the thought of him doing just that appealed to him greatly, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “I’ll have ya know, I’m an inventor! I’ve made things that could fry a man in two flicks of a lamb’s tail!”

Stanley’s brows furrowed. “I have…no idea what that means.”

“It means, Stanley, that I ain’t some dainty thing that ya need to protect. I’m a grown man with a son of mine own, and I’m more than capable of lookin’ after myself!”

“Fidds, come on! Don’t be like that!”

But Fiddleford had stomped past Stanley, keeping his gaze straight ahead. He caught up with Stanford, who had just came across a couple of bushes that Fiddleford assumed concealed the entrance to the lake.

“Ah, perfect,” said Stanford, blissfully unaware of the tension between Fiddleford and Stanley (business as usual, then). “It’s right past here. Allow Stanley and I to go first. After all, we have already been exposed, and there’s—”

That was it. Fiddleford walked ahead, ignoring whatever was about to come out of Stanford’s mouth. Which was not, he quickly realized, an intelligent thing to do, as his next step sent him sliding down a steep dirt slope that had no business being there.

The twins called his name somewhere behind him, but it was too late. He was tumbling down, the world a blur of browns and greens. He inhaled some dirt and coughed in a vain attempt to clear his burning lungs. Just as he thought he’d be doing this forever, he splashed into a body of knee-deep water and stopped moving.

And now there he was, on his hands and knees, looking like a right fool, in front of his boss and boyfriend, no less. He sighed, bringing a shaky hand to his face, staring down at his reflection. The water had a strange purple hue. Wasn’t that just his luck that he wiped his face with water that had probably been contaminated or—

“Oh,” he said, staring at his palms. The skin began to tingle, glowing with a soft purple light. “Shit.”

A headache that felt as if the Devil Himself had just driven spikes into Fiddleford’s head had him doubling over. The pain was strongest on the left and right sides of his skull. His legs ached, and his feet felt numb. He watched with detached, morbid fascination as they broke through his shoes and got longer, until he was staring, slack-jawed at a set of rabbit feet. He wiggled the toes, his brain still struggling to process his new, horrifying reality.

The entire bottom half of him was part hare, tufts of chestnut brown fur poking out of the waistline of his now torn-up pants. He tried standing up, gasping as his head swung back, heavier than he’d ever remembered it being. He quickly held it in place with his (thank goodness!) human hands. Licking his lips, he brought his hands up to the top of his head. His fingers caressed what felt an awful lot like two large antlers, and a pair of rabbit ears.

A jackalope. He was a jackalope.

Of all the things, of all the mythological creatures in all of existence, he was a goddamn hare with antlers, because life had decided that Fiddleford McGucket hadn’t suffered enough today. The only solace he found was the fact that his face was still human, if the reflection of the lake was anything to go by, which was at least something. He’d probably drown himself right then and there if he had a rabbit nose or some other nonsense like that.

Fiddleford dragged himself out of the lake. The water didn’t drip or fall off his skin. Instead, his body seemed to absorb it. That wasn’t worrying at all.

“Fidds, are you okay? Shit, hold on, I’m almost there!”

Stanley skid down the slope and ran towards him. His wings were raised off the ground so he could run without tripping over them, and his eyes glowed more intensely than he’d seen them yet. Stanford wasn’t far behind, his wings occasionally flapping to help him keep his balance.

The usual sense of relief he’d get whenever Stanley came to his aid was, to his increasing concern, being overrun by something else. It was like somebody had flipped a switch inside of him, activating a strong, fight-or-flight instinct that Fiddleford couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to.

Suddenly, his mind didn’t see Stanley Pines, his beloved partner, and Stanford Pines, his good friend and employer. All he could take in were teeth and jaws and claws that could gut a creature like himself in seconds. This new instinct was worse than any panic attack he’d ever had, his throat tightening, his breathing labored, his head throbbing, seemingly taking over his own body, which began to move as if on its own accord.

He ran back in the woods, getting as far away from Stanley as his legs would carry him, which turned out to be incredibly far, incredibly fast. His heart thumped against his chest as he kept moving forward, crashing through bushes, any coherent thought was far gone, replaced with the need to get away now.

Had he been in his right mind, he’d have noticed Stanley’s big, heartbroken eyes on his back until he was out of sight, swallowed up by Gravity Falls’ forest.

*

Stanford caught up to Stanley just as the latter watched his boyfriend run into the forest at a pace that would almost put Stan’s car to shame. He’d barely seen what Fiddleford had turned into after falling into the lake, but whatever it was looked like some weird bunny-thing that probably had little to no way to defend itself. Well, he guessed running like hell was a damn good way to defend oneself. Couldn’t argue with the results.

“Great.” Stanley held his head. “Just fuckin’ peachy.”

“That could have gone better,” said Stanford.

“You decide to become Captain Obvious today or somethin’?” snapped Stanley. He gestured towards the direction Fiddleford went. “How the fuck are we gonna find him?”

“Calm down, Stan. I have a plan.” Ford pushed his glasses up his nose. “Do you remember those microchips that Fiddleford made?”

Stanley stared at his brother as if he’d just started speaking another language. “Sixer, this ain’t time for your nerd talk, Fidds could get eaten by a mountain lion or bear if we don’t do somethin’!”

Ford glared at him. “This is why I’m bringing it up. Fiddleford it to help us track each other in the case that one of us gets abducted again.” Ford rummaged through the knapsack he always brought with him and pulled out a clunky metal remote with a glass screen. He turned it on. “Aha!”

“What?”

“It’s working magnificently! Fiddleford will be pleased to know that the remote has no problems picking up his signal.”

Stan loved his brother, he really did, but it was shit like his brother managing to be excited about some science gizmo while his friend was hopping around the woods in a panic that really tested his patience. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d also love to be alive to talk about it, so why don’t ya shut yer yap for five seconds so we can get him?”

Ford huffed. He stared back down at the screen. “He’s going towards the middle of the forest, so at least he isn’t near any caves.” He stopped talking, eyes widening. “We need to move. He’s coming across Manotaur territory.”

Stanley swore. “Then let’s go already!”

“Stan, you’re slower like this. You should let me—”

“Oh, hell no, Pointdexter. I’m not waitin’ here while you go off after him. He’s gonna freak out if he sees you alone.”

Ford opened his mouth, saw the expression that Stan had on his face, and let whatever stupid thing he was going to tell Stan, die. “Fine but try not to lose me. I’m going to have to…” He sighed. “Run on four legs.”

Even in his state of mind, Stanley couldn’t resist grinning. “Maybe this situation isn’t all bad.”

Ford took off his boot and threw it at his brother. It bounced off him. Stan didn’t even feel it.

“Fiddleford better be grateful for this,” muttered Ford as he freed himself of his other shoe and began to—there was no other word for it—gallop in the direction Fiddleford went.

Filing the mental image of his brother running around like a giant housecat for later, Stan lumbered behind him. He was determined to keep up, not wanting to waste more time.

[whispersafterdusk]

Lost in Time - ch 10

On the morning of Winter Solstice Selene found Eli outside exercising; in fact, over the last three weeks that's how Eli had started her mornings.  She knew the woman wanted to get back to her pre-tube physique but she hadn't been pushing herself this hard before -- discovering her dead husband had triggered the change in her and Selene didn't know what to do about it.

'Hopefully Dr. Xu is making headway...' she found herself thinking as she headed over to the corner of the yard that Eli had taken to exercising in.  It was a fairly flat area, mostly shielded from the sun in the afternoon and evening, and would have thick grass coverage once the seasons changed; it also was outside of the stable area so there wouldn't be animal droppings to worry about either.  Maybe she could pave a small area to give Eli something solid to exercise on too?  And when spring arrived with its downpours a paved spot would keep her out of the mud as well...Selene mentally stuck it on her To Do list. ((Continued below cut))

Eli was currently doing push ups, and doing them really damn well -- far better than Selene could ever hope to do.  She didn't look up as the builder approached, and Selene waited silently and counted out 52 push ups (and who knew how many she'd already done before Selene had even come outside) before Eli finally came to a stop and shifted her legs around to sit cross-legged in the cleared area of frozen grass.

"Did you still want to go to the Solstice gathering?" Selene asked. For a long moment Eli was silent, then she simply nodded; Selene returned the nod and smiled at her.  "Yay, all right -- did you want to be the bringer of cheese or the meats?" She took a step back as Eli got up; once the woman was up and out of the shadow of the edge of the nearby stables Selene could see sweat droplets sparkling in the woman's eyelashes and a thin sheen of it over her face -- she'd need to get inside and get dried off before she froze.

"Cheese, I guess."

It wasn't enthusiastic but she'd take it.  "Ok then - I'll go get the foodstuffs while you get cleaned up.  We've got a couple hours before everything starts but usually people gather early to watch Django get the hot pot started.  It'd be a really good time for you to meet and mingle, talk to people."

"I don't know that I feel up to mingling."

"Oh.  Well, uh..."

Eli gave her a strained smile.  "Sorry.  Don't mean to make things awkward, I just..."

Selene didn't press her to continue; instead she nodded and led the way back into the house where Eli disappeared upstairs to her room and Selene turned into the kitchen.  She'd bought some nice cuts of beef and chicken and a very soft and delicious white cheese from Sophie and Emily a day ago.  After her first Solstice in Portia Selene had decided to vary what she brought each year; the first time she'd brought diced up layered carrots and last year she'd brought cornballs from her own garden which had turned a small spot of the pot into a spicy chowder. This year would be the first time she'd brought any meats.  Hopefully they were sliced thin enough that they'd cook up quickly once they were in the pot...maybe she should have checked with Django first.  Oh well.

Eli should at least be well-received for bringing the cheese; the soft white was a Portia favorite and it tended to sell out quick when Sophie had a new batch ready to go.

A quick glance in the fridge showed that the wax paper wrapped around the meats hadn't leaked, and there weren't any grease marks on the paper bag that the cheese was in - it was nice to see that she wouldn't need to put them into other containers or worry about the bags ripping on the way in to town. Selene grabbed a potato fruit fritter out of the bag next to the cheese (she liked Sophie's pies and fritters, what could she say?) and retreated to a chair, slowly munching on the fritter as she waited for Eli.

She was washing grease off her fingers when she heard Eli coming down the stairs; the Dubei woman was combing her hair off to the side as she walked, and was wearing a sweater Selene hadn't seen before - it was a burnt orange color with goldenrod colored trim along the sleeves and collar.

"That looks nice.  When did you get that one?"

Eli glanced down and smoothed down the sweater's hem.  "Couple days ago.  Carol was nice enough to tailor it a bit so it fit better across my shoulders."

"Going to need a lot of tailoring soon, huh?"  That got a faint smile from Eli; Selene grabbed the meats and cheese and led the way out of the house toward Portia's gates.  "What were celebrations like, in the Old World?  Were there a lot of holidays?"

"Saying there were 'a lot' would be a massive understatement. You could find a festival or holiday going on almost every other week," Eli answered.

"Wow... That sounds hectic, but also fun."

Eli shrugged.  "Isn't that true of any holiday?"

"True.  Oh, here-" Selene briefly spun around and walked backwards, holding out the bag with the cheese in it.  "Best cheese anywhere around."

Eli took the bag and tucked it into the crook of her elbow.  "So...how does this festival work?"

"Well, we have a giant hot pot that Django gets started with a broth base.  We wait 'til it gets boiling, then everyone starts tossing ingredients in.  Everyone is welcome to eat as much as they want and because of how big the pot is you'll find little pockets of dozens of different flavors -- and, when we're done, all the leftovers are divvied out to everyone to take home, or available to eat for free at the Round Table for the next couple of days.  After we've all eaten we have a snowball fight -- or, WOULD have a snowball fight.  What snow that's out in the fields right now isn't all that packable since it's not fresh so I'm not sure if Gale has something else planned instead. And THEN, after that, we all take pictures together."

"...'all,'" Eli repeated.  "Who does that include?"

"Everyone in Portia, if they want to," Selene giggled.  "I help build the riser platforms each year.  When we're done with the hot pot and everyone heads off to the snowball fight I, Paulie, and a couple others move the pot out and get the risers in place for when it's picture time."

"Are the pictures just...for free? For anyone?"

Selene nodded.  "Yep.  And a lot of the pictures get printed in the newspaper too so even if you don't manage to grab a copy today you can clip it from the paper later."

They were approaching the central plaza now and Selene could already smell the vegetable broth; Dawa and Paulie were standing near the massive hot pot helping Django feed logs to the fire burning beneath it.  Gale, Gust, Ginger, and Russo were already there too, and so was Carol and Martha and standing with them were the triplets, Toby, and Jack as well.  Their arrival immediately caught the attention of the children; Selene subtly moved Eli around the plaza's edge in the opposite direction.

They stopped at the benches over near the Research Center and Eli sat down, and sat the bag of cheese on the bench beside her.

"That is definitely a large hot pot."

"Yep.  No idea who first forged it but it's been in use for awhile - not sure what they used before.  Maybe just a giant cauldron or something."

They sat and waited, and watched as more of Portia's residents began to show up.  There were a lot of curious and uneasy looks tossed their way; few people seemed willing to do more than nod or wave, and Selene was pretty certain most of the friendlier gestures were aimed at her and not Eli.  Really made her wonder what Lee might have been telling others since Eli definitely hadn't done anything to warrant the weird looks she was getting.

Eventually, as more people showed up and more greetings were exchanged, Martha's attention wandered enough that Toby broke away from the group they were all standing in and as Selene suspected the boy made a beeline toward them.

He stopped just short of the bench, eying Eli for a moment or two; despite having a heavy coat on along with his backpack he had managed to also strap a wooden practice sword to his back and the handle jutted awkwardly over his left shoulder.

"Hi!  Are you really three hundred years old?"

Eli blinked at the boy for a moment, then sat up a bit straighter.  "I think I'm closer to 370, but yes."

"What did you do in the Old World?  Were there adventurers?"

Selene watched as Eli's gaze moved from the boy over to where his mother was standing and chatting with Carol and Alice; after a pause Eli looked back to Toby.  "I was a ranger.  It was a type of soldier."

"Ha!" was Toby's response.  "Django said there was more to you than it looked!  Did you fight in the war?  Did you shoot robots with guns?   Was there really robots everywhere you looked? Did you use only guns or did you still use swords and stuff?  Do you know how to use a sword?"

"Toby, one at a time," Selene interrupted dryly.  Eli got bombarded enough as it was thanks to those nosy scholars.

A small smile crossed Eli's face.  "I didn't fight in the war - I was already injured and inside that tube by the time the Calamity hit.  I'm not even sure what event started it.  As for AIs - yes, we had a lot of them.  They did a lot of the work for us, but not ALL of our work.  We didn't use swords but we had some long-handled machetes as part of our camping kits and if we fought in close combat we had bangsticks.  They were these metal rods of varying length that, if you swung and hit something with it, would release a little electric shock with a loud bang, hence their names.  And, I know how to dance with a sword but not how to fight with one."

Selene had been listening quietly as Eli rattled off the answers to Toby's rapid fire questions but the last answer caught her attention.   "Dance?"

Eli nodded.  "Dubeian saber dancing.  Was a hobby I picked up when I was a teenager and carried it along while serving - I wasn't especially limber or graceful but it was still fun."

Toby pulled a face.  "Dancing?  That sounds boring."

"Maybe, to someone who hasn't ever seen it.  You started out with plastic practice props, worked your way up to wooden ones, then blunt metal, then sharpened metal, and the last 'rank' was sharpened metal with a middle, inner strip that you lit on fire."

THAT got Toby's attention.  "You danced with fire?"

"Me?  No.  I only made it up to the sharpened metal rank - live steel, as it was called.  Once I was out of school I only got the chance to study and practice when I was on leave from active duty."

"That sounds pretty neat, actually," Selene mused.  "Sounds kind of dangerous too though - a sharp edge AND fire?"

"It WAS dangerous, and that's why it was fairly challenging to work your way up the ranks.  You learned the basic moves with the plastic, then added weight and balance with the wooden ones.  From there you began picking up the advanced stuff with the heavier but blunt metal props, and you needed a perfect score from a certified instructor to move on to the sharpened ones.  When you got to the sharpened rank you had to have so many hours of supervised practice as well as a certain number of dances performed and scored by eight different instructors, all perfect scores and with no injuries or else you had to start over and put in the time and effort again.  Being as it became something I did on the side to keep myself busy when I was on leave I never had the time to put together the dances or log the hours needed."

"Are you bothering Eli?"

Selene jumped at Arlo's voice and spun around to find him standing behind her with his arms crossed and his attention squarely on Toby.  

Toby jutted his lower lip out at Arlo.  "No!  I'm learning about the Old World."

"Fine, but your mother is looking for you either way."

"Aw man..." Toby slouched off through the crowd back toward Martha who greeted him with a glare and what Selene imagined was a very short and to the point lecture on running off when she clearly wanted him to stay put.  He...did that a lot, and could probably recite any lecture by heart now.

When he was gone Eli leaned back against the bench and stretched her legs out.  "He wasn't bothering me.  Just asking questions."

"Fair enough. Martha WAS actually looking for him however."

Selene shifted around to perch on the arm of the bench, looking up at him.  "Are the scholars going to work today too?"

"Not that I know of.  Gregory and Adam are going to stay out at the sinkhole just in case they do, and also to keep guard.  Mali and the others planned to come take part in the festivities but I've no idea if the scholars will too."  Arlo glanced over a shoulder and skimmed the crowd, then returned his attention to Eli.  "I did want to mention that Lee gives a sermon every year before we eat - whatever he might say today know he's more or less said something similar every year.  This might be the one time I can honestly say it shouldn't be personal."

Eli nodded but didn't say anything in response.  After a few moments Arlo moved to sit on the bench with the bag of cheese between himself and Eli, and not too long afterward both Sam and Remington found them and stood about chatting as they waited for Django to signal that the broth was ready; it already appeared to be boiling and Selene spied what she thought were vegetable bits floating around in it.  Shouldn't be too long now.

"-Eli, I had a question about Stewart," Sam suddenly asked, abruptly changing the subject away from the weather.

"What about him?"

They'd all had a chance to talk to Stewart at least once now; the All Source AI was polite and helpful but Selene found his constantly shifting facial projection to be massively distracting.

"What are we going to do with him?"

That was a question Selene had thought about too.  Wendy, the other All Source AI they'd found, was currently in the Research Center and wouldn't be able to ever leave it now that her original power supply had been damaged beyond repair -- she'd always be tethered to the power supply they'd rigged up for her.  Stewart, on the other hand, had been specifically built to be mobile; his inner battery needed repair due to the ravages of time but he was confident they could fix it even with limited technology, and that would leave him with about three months worth of power if he was forced to go without his docking station. Could they move his docking station out of the facility and figure out how to power it up here?  It seemed like a huge waste to leave him down in the facility or for him to walk back and forth between there and town.

"I'm not sure yet," Eli answered after a lengthy pause.  "He seems convinced the reactor is still fully functional for now, so we've got a bit of time to figure something out.  But he'll have to be moved somehow -- the fuel inside a reactor has an expected lifetime and to be honest I'm surprised it's still working after all this time.  It won't last forever though, and there's no way we can make more of what fuels it."

"We were able to make a new power source for Wendy," Selene said.   She glanced toward the Research Center -- Wendy had seemed satisfied with the power output of the high voltage dual engine set up they'd put together.  "Could we move the docking station and make do like we did with her?"

Eli was silent for another long moment - Selene could only imagine the calculations going on in her head.  "--it's...possible, I guess.   But it'll need a lot of room, first and foremost - we'd need his docking station for sure, along with his memory cores and server banks, and then space enough for whatever power source we come up with to run it all.  He might need his own dedicated room entirely."

Remington's eyebrows shot into his hairline.  "He really needs that much power?  That much room?"

"Yeah, that seems-" Sam paused, then shook her head.  "Wendy didn't need that much of either.  What's the difference?"

"They're different models," Eli answered.  "They might both be All Source AIs but their duties are drastically different and they have different specs.  And I bet if we could find Wendy's original memory cores and servers her power and space requirements would shoot through the roof too."

Selene huffed out a sigh at that.  "Man...we've lost so much, haven't we?  I hope we haven't damaged Wendy on accident."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Eli replied, looking over to her.  "If she says she can manage with her current power level then she knows what she can and can't safely process."

"What would happen if we got her hooked up to more power?"

"Probably nothing.  Her memory cores aren't attached and she's not connected to anything else to warrant more power right now."

"She DID say that she couldn't teach us anything because all she did was give orders, but she's given us a few blueprints since she said that," Selene said slowly, tapping a finger against her chin as she thought - what did a memory core or server bank even look like?  "If she had her memory cores, would that make a difference in what she could teach?"

"A huge difference.  You can't teach something if you don't remember knowing it in the first place.  With her it's likely she DID know the inner functions of certain technologies but that information was stored in a separate memory core than what she's carrying onboard now.  If we separate Stewart from his servers and cores he'll lose a lot of what he knows too."

"Which seems like a poor idea," Arlo broke in.  "Having those medical texts is helpful but having something on hand that actually knows it and could teach it to others is way more valuable."

Sam shrugged. "The clinic DOES have that storage room upstairs, and also the space around it to add on another room or two - it'd make more sense to install Stewart in the clinic than it would here at the Center, since he's a medical AI.  I think it was just last year that Dr. Xu was talking to Albert about a possible expansion too."

Remington shook his head at her.  "He only did that because Phyllis wants to open her own office.  I think the plan was adding on and giving that space to her to start out with but she found a place out in South Block that she's trying to buy instead. He probably wouldn't say no to an expansion to house Stewart but I don't know that any plans or budget from before would be useful now since he wasn't factoring in an All Source AI's needs."

Selene stood up and stretched as she noticed Gale taking his place at the center of the crowd.  "Eh, leave it for another day - looks like it's about time to start."

Portia's townsfolk had all clustered around the hot pot and Selene and the others were basically at the back of the group; Gale was a little hard to hear but, as he did every year, he greeted everyone and then invited Lee to start his sermon.

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

Eli listened quietly as Lee detailed how, after the Calamity, the sky had darkened and sunlight had disappeared.  AIs had gone rogue, crops were failing, people were starving - humanity already pushed to the brink was getting even closer to extinction.  To hear that finally, in a moment of need, people came together to ensure survival was nice...even if the story as a whole was very bleak.  

'To think I outlived all that because of a stupid tube and science I can't understand...'

One of the first things she'd asked Stewart was why she was down there - why she was in that tube - and the AI couldn't tell her.

Not because he didn't know but because he'd been ordered not to tell anyone outside of the project involving the tubes.  And what that project was was also something he couldn't share, and no amount of administrative access he could grant her would give her access to those files.  He couldn't go against his orders or his programming and had been very apologetic but ultimately she'd gotten nowhere with that subject.

The rest of her questions had been directly answered, at least, and it painted chaotic, terrifying, and destructive final days for the facility and the people of Dubei.

First had come a bombardment from orbital railguns.  Eli hadn't even known there WERE railguns up in orbit, and if they had fired freely on Dubei she imagined no one in charge had known they were there either (or if they HAD known, why weren't there defenses in place?).  Who could have gotten railguns into orbit without anyone detecting them?  Maybe they were inside something else...hidden, so that no one would suspect. And if that were the case then it could have been any nation behind it, and while Eli knew diplomacy had been breaking down she didn't think the Generals would have kept something this potentially devastating a secret...

Then Stewart had detailed how, in the immediate aftermath of that first attack, a small group of unknown assailants had forced their way in and appeared to be there to steal top secret information from various government-funded research projects.  Stewart didn't know what files in particular they had come for but they were systematically searching floors and attempting to breach his encryptions and firewalls before they'd been subdued either by security or by circumstance; the orbital bombardment had leveled over half the city and obliterated that part of the facility that had been above ground, and the damage had caused the air filtration and circulation system to go haywire during the infiltration. Several of the underground sections were subsequently flooded with such severely polluted air, smoke, and particulates that it had caused many to suffocate (even some who had tried to get protective equipment on had been killed before it made a difference) before Stewart had been able to get the systems under control again and broadcast an order to begin evacuation once the intruders had been dealt with.  

A small silver lining to this was the suffocation had taken out some of the attackers too, though their losses paled in comparison to the number of employees that had died. There was a mad scramble by those left to try and pack and prioritize, and to the credit of the survivors a lot was able to be salvaged and taken with them as the remaining living AIs were able to carry a lot more than a human could. But it was during the rush to leave that they'd been hit with a second bombardment and Stewart lost all contact with the surface world.  In the chaos of the second attack Stewart had issued a total evacuation order: if it couldn't be immediately carried out on one's person then it had to be left behind...supplies, personal effects, the fallen, everything. Those few that were left alive to hear the order made it out through old maintenance tunnels.

And that was it.  Ever since then Stewart had been the lone guiding force within the facility and had struggled to keep it functional (especially after an earthquake struck about 73 years after the second bombardment and had destroyed even more of the facility), and make certain that the remaining stationary AI assistants like Pauline as well as Eli in her tube survived until help arrived (something Stewart admitted he had lost hope for several times over the centuries).

That was a touchy subject... Eli had been in a tube, and so had all but two of her squadron.  It had definitely hurt to know that most everyone she'd worked with AND her husband were all dead in the same room she'd spent over three hundred years "sleeping" in and that it had only been sheer dumb luck that the earthquake's damage hadn't reached far enough into the room to take her out too.  Thinking about it, even briefly, was enough to make her eyes sting and well up and she quickly squashed it down and tried to focus on the end of Lee's sermon.

Better times...  Yeah, compared to what she'd been told had happened, and what had been been endured, these times were certainly better.   Humanity had a future even if it felt like she didn't.

 Don't think about it.

At least, don't think about it until the next session with Dr. Xu.   Or, bare minimum, she should aim to make it through today without falling apart.

"-all right, time to start adding things."

Eli flinched a bit as Selene - she hadn't even noticed the woman had moved from the other end of the bench - grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her toward the enormous hot pot, giving her only a moment to pick up her sack with the cheese in it; Arlo stayed with them and had produced a small bag of eggs from somewhere - she was about to ask where he'd been hiding it when she noticed Sam pull a cluster of some leafy green herb out of the bag she seemed to carry everywhere.  She handed whatever the herbs were to Remington and then pulled out a parcel wrapped in wax paper; Sam wasted no time in approaching the pot and dumping the contents of her parcel in and Eli watched as a small shower of tiny meatballs plopped into the boiling broth.

"What'd you end up bringing?" Remington asked then.  He had a small pocket knife in hand and was carefully cutting off the string that held the bundle of herbs together; she caught a whiff of it as well as a closer look and thought it was coriander.

Eli opened her bag and pulled out the chunk of cheese inside it, and managed to smile a bit as Remington's eyes lit up at the sight of it.

"Ha, you actually managed to get your hands on some of Sophie's cheese?  That'll win you a lot of friends today I bet." He wiped the blade of the knife clean on the hem of his shirt then offered it to her, handle first.  "Here, this'll help."

The cheese was the size of her two fists put together and it cut smoothly.  She did notice a couple of approving looks as she dropped the first few pieces into the pot and watched as it melted and floated on the top almost like a cream.

"Should I try to spread it out?" she asked, glancing over to Remington; Arlo and Selene seemed to have moved on to other spots around the pot, chatting with the other townsfolk as they walked and dropped in cuts of meat and freshly cracked eggs at random intervals.

"You can, or you can claim a little spot and let others come to you," Remington answered.  He started gently twisting the coriander into small handfuls that he sprinkled over a wide area of the hot pot's surface; the boiling broth quickly sent the little green bits floating away or sinking inward.

Along with the sudden surge of various types of foodstuffs appearing in the pot there were a lot of people and a lot of separate conversations going on around her; for now she decided to slice up about a third of what she had and spread it in the same area.  As she was carefully cutting off a few more slices one of the short, hairy men appeared at her elbow with what looked like fresh fish fillets.

"Hey, look at that," was the man's greeting as he spied the cheese in her hand.  "I always end up eating all that myself when I manage to get my hands on it."

She recognized him in that he was identical to the three others like him that she'd met, but his glasses were more opaque and a different size and shape than the ones his brothers wore.  Quadruplets?  "Would you like a piece to eat?"  She cut off a decently thick bit and offered it to him; he accepted it with a grunt and smile and popped the whole thing into his mouth before beginning to carefully slip the fillets into the broth.

"-so, you're Eli.  I'm Qiwa.  You meet the rest of my brothers yet?"

"I've met Dawa, Sanwa, and I saw a third brother on the night I was introduced but I'm guessing that wasn't you.  How...uh, how many of you ARE there?"

Qiwa began to chuckle, and didn't respond until he had all the filets in the pot; after wiping his hands on his shorts (Eli couldn't fathom how he wasn't freezing) he began to point to various spots in the crowd.  There was Dawa, and Sanwa, and there was...three, four, five...

"-there's SEVEN of you?" she asked, looking down at Qiwa in amazement.  "What's in Portia's water and should I be concerned?"

That got a deep belly laugh out of Qiwa.  "Don't worry, you'll get used to it!  We at least color code ourselves."

He kept on laughing and Eli shook her head - seven identical brothers, good grief.  She cut a couple more slices of cheese and let them drop in; Qiwa headed off, still chuckling, and for a brief moment Eli was left standing more or less by herself as people milled around.   Seeing that the pot was pretty cheesy where she was standing she decided she would move around after all and carefully edged off to the left toward a  dark-haired woman who was carefully adding in what looked like dumplings but before she got too far another woman stepped in her path and cleared her throat.

"Oh, uh - hello." Her brain stalled on the woman's name; she knew she owned the bakery and she recognized her from earlier when Arlo had sent Toby scampering back to her.

"Hello.  Sorry to bother you on a holiday but could I have a word in private?"

"Sure."  Eli returned the cheese to the crumpled up bag and tossed the knife in with it as well, then tucked it under an arm and followed Martha - THAT was her name, right - as the woman headed over toward the far wall and gate that led out of Portia.

Once they were away from the crowd Martha inhaled deeply and seemed to be trying to force a smile but it didn't quite cover up how tense the woman seemed.

"You might have guessed this already or been told but I'm Toby's mother," Martha started.  "I know he ran off earlier to pester you with questions and now all he can talk about is you being a soldier and fighting robots."

Eli winced a bit.  "Sorry about that.  I didn't mean to-"

Martha waved her hands and shook her head.  "No, it's not that - I'm used to him being a nuisance and overly excitable when he gets fixated on something.  It's more that I know exactly what he's going to do next and I wanted to ask you NOT to indulge him."

"...huh?"

Martha sighed and ran a hand over her headband and then through the hair it was just barely holding back from her face.  "His father was an adventurer, and it got him killed.  Toby is dead set on being an adventurer too, and while Django has been humoring him and teaching him some very basic swordplay I know without a doubt that he'll come asking after you to teach him how to fight as well.  And I don't want you teaching him anything, because I don't want him encouraged to go off into the wilds like his father did."

...well, that's not what she'd been expecting.  Eli mulled that over for a few breaths - it was a reasonable enough request, on the surface. "I can abide by that, sure.  Can I ask you something, though?"

"Oh good!  And, of course."

Eli shifted the cheese from one arm to the other, turning her head to skim the crowd and pick out where Toby was standing with the other children again; he had that practice sword in hand and was waving it wildly as he spoke, and the others were laughing along with him.  "I don't mean for this to sound insulting or belittling, but how confident are you that you can keep him from running off, if he's determined to follow after his da?"

Martha's expression faltered a moment and then she sighed heavily.  "Well...so far I've not had much luck..."

She trailed off and Eli nodded, more to herself than to the woman -- that was what she thought the answer was going to be.  It would seem little boys are just as headstrong now as they were three hundred years ago; it was a bit endearing but knowing how concerned Martha was just based on how she was acting now...

"I won't teach him anything if you don't want me to, but it sounds like - at least for the time being - he's not going to let go of that particular dream.  And if that's the case, maybe he SHOULD be learning how to take care of himself in a fight."  She turned her attention from the kids back to Martha.  "Since you worry he's going to run off anyway learning how to handle himself in a dangerous situation and how to deal with injuries and survival techniques would be valuable information for him.  THOSE are topics I'm well versed in, and I wouldn't mind teaching him.  But, I've got an idea for a compromise: I could bore him to tears with it in the process and see how much he likes the adventuring life then when he gets to see what all is needed for it."

Now it was Martha's turn to mull things over, glancing between Eli and Toby but seeming to be looking through them rather than at them.   "I...didn't think of it like that. I try not to think about it in general because I just don't want to lose him like I lost his father.   And, what do you mean when you say you could bore him?"

"I am definitely well-practiced in not thinking about things," Eli said quietly.  She took a breath and then flashed Martha a half-smile.   "And yeah, bore him with it.  If we make learning the skills and the act of adventuring seem like more trouble than its worth that might work better than forbidding him from doing it.  He's a kid after all: I've not met a kid who didn't push boundaries or rebel against their parents. This might be a phase you can turn him away from but if not at least he's not walking out into the wild unknown not knowing a thing about how to take care of himself.  -- and actually, I had another deterring idea.  How's his grades?"

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

After the hot pot gathering they'd all gone out into the fields for the largest game of "flag tag" Eli had ever participated in.  Everyone was exhausted and muddy by the end of it but they all remained in good spirits as they trudged back in to town to goof around in front of cameras (old-fashioned film cameras...another thing that had been old even in her time).

While she'd admittedly not felt like mingling or even really felt human this morning Eli found she was glad she'd let Selene drag her out.  The weird looks had mostly stopped by late afternoon and while only a handful of people had been brave enough to walk up to her she felt less...like an outsider, more or less.  And she hadn't run into that minister either so the whole day had been pretty peaceful; she had a small photo of herself with Selene, Xu, Arlo, and Dawa posing beneath the large tree that took up the center of the plaza, and her jacket smelled faintly of wood smoke as she walked back toward Selene's place.

In the morning she'd be heading back into town to meet Martha at her bakery, before Toby had to be at school.  He didn't know it yet but he was about to be offered survival and combat lessons, taught by Eli, on the condition that he had to get high scores on all his schoolwork for the next two quarters.

Martha had been tickled pink by the idea as it seemed Toby was a little terror in school too, and while the prospect of having to focus in school may not deter him initially Eli still vividly remembered her boot camp days...they'd find out how determined Toby was when she started putting him through his paces (both physical and mental - took more than just being strong to be a good ranger).

But, on the flip side of that particular coin, if he kept with it he'd be one heck of a well-trained adventurer.  At the very least that ought to relieve a bit of Martha's worry about the kid if their combined efforts couldn't turn his attention away from a future career of adventuring.

She would also need to drop by the Civil Corps building and give Remington back his pocket knife - she hadn't been able to find him after the tag game so it was currently in her own pocket (and she'd made sure to clean the cheese off before closing it).

When she got inside she borrowed a thumb tack from Selene and stuck the picture to the top edge of the headboard of her bed, then changed into the loose pants and shirt she'd designated as sleep wear and crawled under the covers.  Along with needing to talk to Martha and Toby, and return Remington's knife, she was also expected down in the facility to babysit the scholars...it was going to be a very busy day.

[vadersmom1]

What is a Honeybear?

Read on ao3

When Steve and Bucky move into the house on Vine St., they were greeted by their neighbor that lived two houses down. He was a short brunette that definitely worked with his hands, Steve notes.

“Welcome to the neighborhood!” The man greets. “I’m Tony. I live two houses down. Do you need any help unpacking?”

Steve isn’t sure why, but his voice has stopped working. Bucky steps in, holding out a hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Bucky Barnes and this is my brother, Steve Rogers. We would appreciate the help.”

Tony helps them carry their last truckload of boxes into the house. By the time the last box has been set down, the three of them are laughing and talking aa if they were all old friends. Tony orders pizza from “the best pizza place in town.” When they’re finished, he tells them he has to go.

“He’s kind of cute,” Steve remarks as he and Bucky watch Tony leave.

“He is,” Bucky agrees. “Go for it.”

“I dunno. I would have to make sure he is interested. I don’t want to make our first welcoming neighbor uncomfortable with us.” Steve nudges Bucky’s shoulder. “When is Sam going to be here?”

Sam arrives about twenty minutes later, and the three of them unpack until Bucky decides he is done for the night and drags Sam to bed. Steve checks his phone and sends a quick text off to Sharon about their neighbor before he decides to follow Bucky’s example. It was a long day, and he is exhausted.

Steve keeps Sharon updated on Tony. She had broken up with him two years ago when she realized that she just wasn’t into men. Steve had had a self-realization not too long after that he liked men just as much as he liked women. Six months later, Sharon was dating their friend Maria, and she and Steve had remained friendly. Now he texts her about any new options he’s found. She’s on a long business trip at the moment and is unable to visit.

Tony hangs around a lot. Even though he owns three cars, he lives alone with a few robots, which he has named oddly. He has a DUM-E, a BUTTERFINGERS, and a U. Steve thinks he has another one, or else he names his cars because he knows he’s heard “Platypus” and “honeybear” a few times. It’s a little odd, but Steve finds it endearing. The man drinks more than his healthy share of coffee and somehow manages to injure himself on the dumbest things. If Tony lived with someone, Steve would be afraid that he’s covering up abuse. Tony is a genius – you should see (or hear) the AI that he coded and installed in his home – but he is also so dumb sometimes. He can work out long division in his head, but he has no idea why drinking orange juice right after brushing his teeth is a bad idea. Steve knows he’s smitten, and it has only been a month since they’ve moved in. Sam and Bucky think it’s hilarious and that he should just ask Tony out, but Steve is unsure.

They have had other neighbors welcome them to the neighborhood. Most of them have something to say about Tony, mostly disapproving.

Old Mrs. Oakley tells them that he gets big deliveries and floods the air with exhaust from “those big trucks.” She often wonders why he doesn’t just get them delivered to a warehouse. Steve does wonder if he works from home. He doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Tony leave to go to work.

Janice Teller brings them an apple pie that is a “secret family recipe.” She openly flirts with Steve even though he knows she has a husband and four kids. She tells Steve and Bucky that Tony is a sex addict. There are always people going in and out of his house. Steve has noticed that two read-headed women visit him a lot. Maybe he’s in a polyamorous relationship and really digs redheads.

Mr. Everton, who lives next door to Tony, complains about the noise. Apparently, Tony keeps late hours and blares classic rock and 80’s metal. Bucky just smirks and says he likes Tony’s style.

Karen Packer stops past weekly to catch them up on the latest gossip. When Bucky – to Steve’s mortification �� asks if Tony is single, she leans in and tells them, “I hear he’s pansexual or something like that. What is that – attracted to skillets?” And she laughs at own very annoying joke. “Any way, whatever that means. But honestly?” Somehow, she leans in even further. “I don’t know. I think he’s more of a playboy. There have been several people who keep coming back. He did have a black – I mean, African American, I’m sorry – man living with him for a while, but he’s never around anymore. Man probably drove him away what with all his oddities. He must be a lot to deal with.” Steve wants to strangle this woman, so he lets Bucky handle her.

Jessica is a recluse who lives next door to Steve and Bucky. She’s a PI who has a home office. She’s obnoxious and mean to any who approach her, save Tony. To be honest, she is mean and obnoxious to him as well, but it’s a different tone. He returns it, and she gives a hint of a smile. Tony tells Steve and Bucky that they are drinking buddies.

Most people seem to leave Tony alone, and he does likewise. Steve wonders why, then, does Tony seem to knock on their door at 3am because he can’t sleep and needs someone to whom he can talk? They learn that Tony has nightmares from a traumatic experience, and he hates fire, the cold, and closed, dark spaces.

+++++++++++++++

Somewhere around the two-month mark of their new home, Bucky hears a knock on the back door. This is odd because their back door opens to a fenced-in yard. He opens it to find Tony in sweatpants and a flannel that he is quickly trying to button. Bucky catches some scar tissue across his chest.

“Can I help you?” He asks amusedly.

“Yes. I need you to hide me.” Tony pants. “I have someone at my house who is violating a restraining order.”

“Do you want me to call the cops?”

“No. No cops. I’m trying to stay out of the spotlight, not because of anything illegal, but because I used to be famous and I don’t want to be anymore. And she’s a stalker. She didn’t see me, so I don’t know if it’s just a lead she got, or if she really knows I’m here. Do you mind if I stay here until she leaves?” Tony asks.

“Sure. No problem. Want me to get rid of her?” Bucky asks. He knows his glare and prosthetic arm scare a lot of people.

Tony shrugs. “You can try, but she’s pretty persistent.”

Bucky and Steve look out the window blinds. There is a gorgeous woman standing at Tony’s door. After she knocks and rings the doorbell a few times, she stands on the walk, waiting. Bucky opens his door and walks over to Tony’s. “Hi! Can I help you? I don’t think they’re home at the moment.”

“Oh, hi.” The woman says her voice like a syrup. “I’m just looking for Tony. Does he live here?”

Bucky stares at her quizzically. “Tony? I don’t know any Tony’s. You have the wrong house.”

“Are you sure? I was told he lives here.” She starts to get a little pissy.

“Nope. The people who live here are Adam and Julia Batcher. I believe they are both at work.”

“Then who’s car is that?” The lady points at the old Toyota Corolla out front of the house.

Bucky shrugs. “Car broke down about a year ago. Adam bought a new one, but this was his first car, so he doesn’t want to get rid of it.”

“If you’re lying to me,” She threatens, eyes narrowed, “I can make your life miserable.”

“What reason do I have to lie to you?” Bucky makes himself look upset. “I just wanted to help you. But if you want to threaten me, I will have to ask you to leave. We all stick together here, and no one will be happy that you just threatened an ex-soldier who lost his arm on a tour.” He knows his death glare is showing now.

The woman gulps. “I am so sorry. I will be on my way. Thank you for your service.” She hops in her car and drives away.

Bucky scrubs a hand over his face and mutters, “Bitch.”

Tony is awestruck when Bucky returns. “You got her to leave in five minutes. Can I hire you as my bodyguard?” He gushes. “Sunset Bain didn’t know what hit her.” He stays at their house the rest of the day and has one of his redhead friends go home with him in case Sunset is watching.

Tony introduces his friend as Natasha, the second-scariest person he knows. She shakes their hands but looks at them suspiciously. When he leaves, he hugs both Steve and Bucky and thanks them profusely.

Tony starts to hang out with Steve, Bucky, and Sam most days now. He’ll buy expensive steaks and just take them to their house and say he’s providing dinner. They have a weekly movie night, and Tony is a James Bond and Star Wars junkie, so he fits right in. He indulges and feeds Bucky’s conspiracy-fueled brain. Many a night is spent arguing about the moon landing or whether aliens are real, etc. Steve feels that Tony is fitting in so well to his friend group. He can’t wait for Sharon to meet him because he knows they will hit off well.

Steve still hasn’t made his move for two reasons. One, Tony has never seemed too interested in Steve. He flirts with Steve, but he also flirts with Bucky and Sam. Two, he thinks Tony is dating Natasha. They seem awfully close.

Tony seems to be getting happier and happier. He keeps referencing something about “one more month" or “three weeks" and so on. It has something to do with “Honeybear" the car being home to stay. Steve guesses he’s finally made the last payment on his car or something.

+++++++

The day finally comes that Tony has been referring to. Steve is curious to see why today is so special. But Tony just goes about his day like normal.

Steve complains to Bucky when he sees him out working on the Corolla in short shorts and a black wife beater. “It’s like he wants me to see him. The grease stains are so hot. Ugh. I just want to ask him out.”

“Ask who out?” Maria asks, walking in the door with Sharon.

“Tony. Look at him. Isn’t he hot?” Steve sighs.

Sharon looks out the window, and her eyes get big. “No, you better not ask him out!” She growls.

Natasha's car pulls up. Tony rolls out from under the car immediately, and his face brightens. Steve sighs dejectedly. Of course, they’re dating. He looks away.

“Keep watching,” Sharon advises.

An African American man in an army uniform jumps out of the car, and Tony’s face beams. He embraces the man tightly and pulls him into a filthy kiss. Steve’s face forms an ‘O', and Sharon laughs, “Yes, that is why you shouldn’t ask him out.”

“You-you know him?” Bucky asks.

“Yes, he’s my ‘cousin' Tony. My aunt Peggy and his dad were friends. Rhodes is his husband.”

“Why did he never bring up his husband?” Steve questions.

Maria snorts, “Has he mentioned Sugarbear, Honeybear, Sourpatch, Cabbagepatch, Platypus, or anything like that? Tony uses nicknames for those he loves.”

“Yea, I have gotten a lot of Cyborg names,” Bucky says thoughtfully. “And he calls Sam ‘Birdie’ a lot. Steve, doesn’t he call you the ‘great wall of justice’ or ‘Cap'?”

“…And here are Steve and Bucky,” Tony walks up with Rhodes. “Steve, Bucky, I would like you to meet my husband, my honeybear, my sour patch, my lover, and my Rhodey, James Rhodes. Rhodey, this is Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.”

“Call me Rhodey or Jim,” Rhodey sticks out his hand. “This one thinks James is a stupid name. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard tons about you guys.”

“Nice to meet you as well.” Steve replies.

Tony claps his hands. “Ok great! Introductions are made. I hate to kiss and run, but Rhodey just got back from a long deployment. I hope you understand we will need a lot of alone time.” He grins as Steve blushes. “Please excuse us.” Tony all but drags Rhodey out of the house. Seeing Sharon, he pauses, “Hey cuz. Wait you guys know each other?”

Rhodey rolls his eyes and proceeds to pull Tony out of the house, “I thought we needed alone time.”

Steve heaves a sigh of relief once the couple makes it to their door.

“That’s why,” Sharon says. “However, have you met Nat? She might be a good choice for you.”

Steve groans.

[motleymoose]

Lukewarm Endearments at Best

Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Gender Neutral!Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester (mention) Words: 2800+ Warnings: Flangst

It had been a long time coming.

Dad had always been a traveler. When he was home, he was a novelty to me, a stranger who was familiar yet so dang mysterious that it surprised me every single time my name came to his lips. Like, even as a little kid I didn’t think he’d know me from Adam unless I was right next to Mama.. And it wasn’t like I really knew him, either. How can you know someone who’s been on the road, away from you, for most of your life? Heck, when Mama passed, I didn’t even see him for at least 18 months.

Of course, he sauntered back into my life as if nothing had happened in that intervening year and a half, like I hadn’t been forced to become a responsible adult right on the cusp of 17, shirking high school, colleges and relationships in order to keep myself from drowning in debt and despair. I was angry, and I said some things I’m not proud to repeat. And like the distant, abstract saint that my father has always been, he stood there, stoically taking the tongue lashing I had saved up for him. Through all of it, I could feel my own grief growing deeper. I had lost my mother, but I realized I never really had a father to begin with. John Winchester had been a wandering canvas that I could project my ideals of fatherhood onto, and I had always been too caught up in my own little world to recognize that he was just as human as me.

Apparently a little too human. As I let my anger burn low and my voice grow quiet, Dad looked straight into my red-rimmed eyes and said he was sorry for what he was about to say. I told him that I wasn’t going to apologize for anything that I just told him, and he shook his head sadly.

“Listen, Y/N/N,” he started, and I watched as his eyes became distant and misty. “I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of, and a huge part of it is how I’ve treated my family in the past.”

I snorted and began to speak, but he held up a hand to stop me. “Please, let me finish.”

“‘Kay,” I snapped.

He cleared his throat a little before continuing. “I’m not going to be around for much longer, and I want to know that, before I go, you are taken care of.”

“Oh, like you took care of me when Mama died? Thanks, but I‘m good.”

Dad flinched, his eyes darting guilty to his boots. “That couldn’t be help-”

My face grew hot. “‘Couldn’t be helped?’ Fucksake, Dad. You left us high and dry as soon as you heard the diagnosis!” I couldn’t be around him anymore, didn’t even want to be on the same planet I was so done with him. I forcefully concentrated on jamming my feet into my running shoes, fighting back the tears pressing behind my eyes. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m going for a run, see yourself out.”

I slammed the door shut behind me, and that was the last time I ever saw my father.

-----

It wasn’t until last month that I’d read Dad had died. He’d been gone for over a decade. The obituary mentioned two surviving sons, but I was so caught up in probing the ancient scar of anger that my brain barely registered the fact. I found the old anger was weak from disuse, my coffee was cold, and I didn’t feel one damn thing either way about him. It was like reading the obits of a stranger. I felt no guilt, no anger, no grief, and I was able to quickly brush it off and carry on.

It didn’t hit me until a day later, in the middle of a crossword puzzle, that I had brothers.

After rereading Dad’s obituary, I decided to find these so-called brothers of mine. I guess I was lonely, and maybe some of the old anger was beginning to rekindle. I had a family of friends, those whom I could lean on when things got shitty, and I loved every one of them. But there was a kernel of curiosity planted in my brain, the urge to know who my brothers were and if they were anything at all like Dad… or me.

It wasn’t exactly simple to find my brothers but it wasn’t that difficult either; just like with me and Mama, Dad had set up his other family in a nice little neighborhood of a smaller city. White picket fence and everything. It didn’t last long, apparently. The house burned down with the wife still inside. But at least the kids got out alright and his precious car was saved. It was a deadend after that, no honor roll or sports write-ups mentioning a Sam or Dean Winchester could be found in any of my searches. Which was weird.

Weirder still was the FBI wanted list.

It wasn’t completely by accident that I stumbled upon Sam and Dean pouting lasciviously at the camera. Two photos, posted side by side in an archive buried under another archive stuck in a clunky footer menu. These files were hidden so deep in the government website that it took several days and one very long night to dig through all of the archived information. It was as if someone didn’t want anyone to find them. But there they were. No one could mistake the striking resemblance between me and the Winchester brothers. Same sharp nose, same alluring eyes, same crooked smile that must’ve broken at least a thousand hearts collectively. Obviously, I had better hair and fashion sense than either one of them, but that was all thanks to my mom.

Anyway, after the criminal reports came the death certificates. And after the death certificates and official police statements, I was at a loss for what to do. I knew in my gut that they were still out there, alive and raising Hell, but I couldn’t explain it nor find any evidence to disprove the official reports.

But after months and months of bum-diddly squat, a desperate hour of carnal need led me to something so fucking obvious, I wouldn’t have believed it if it has strolled up and bit me in the ass.

Dean Winchester was on Tinder.

Shrieking in surprise and triumph, I swiped right so fast that my finger would have left Grease Lightning in the dust. Yes, it was delightfully improper that I was pretending to not be related to him, but there wasn’t another option that came to mind to officially make his and Sam’s acquaintance. And I really wanted to compare notes on our father. And maybe punch one of them in the face. But I was beginning to get ahead of myself before I even got a response, my anxiety ratcheting my inner dialogue up to eleven.

<i>Aw hell,</i> I realized, this is a questionable and highly unorthodox way to meet your brothers in person. What if he swipes left? What if it’s not actually Dean but a catfish? It took a moment to scrub my mind of an actual catfish typing on a keyboard, but then I was back on track to berating myself. How could you think this plan was anything but sloppy at best? It’s almost inconceivable that-

bing!

The doubt dissipated as soon as I peeked at my phone.

Dean had swiped right!

Wait, Dean had swiped right. Which meant he was probably coming into this meeting with wildly different expectations than me. Dread trickled down my spine and into my already roiling stomach.

Thanks a lot, brain, I thought darkly, willfully ignoring the warnings flashing through my head. “No use in worrying about things that probably wouldn’t happen,” I growled. It was a quote that I often fell back on, but it never gave me any solace, probably because it was said by someone who had never had anxiety.

I shook the tension out of my hands before replying to his winky-kiss emoji. I bluntly suggested that we meet up at a tiny coffee shop not far from the main shopping district of a nearby town. If worse came to worst, at least I’d have a bunch of people at hand to witness my abduction.

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

A few hours and a double shot of whisky later, I was standing in line at the meeting place. I’d just given the barista my order when I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

“Y/N?” Dean asked quietly, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. He’d sidled up beside me while I had been making small talk with the barista, taking me slightly by surprise.

“You must be Dean, then!” I said, a little too brightly. Rein it in, Y/L/N, I chided myself. Readjusting my features, I gave him a pleasantly bland smile and gestured for him to order. After he was finished, he paid for both our drinks and took the lead to a table in a shadowy corner of the coffee shop. Plunking himself down in the booth, he gave a casual stretch and motioned for me to join him.

I pasted on another innocuous smile and took the seat opposite him. He shrugged off the slight and leaned forward, arms resting on the table. His entire body language was so overly nonchalant I was afraid he was going to fall asleep. “So tell me about yourself, Y/N,” his voice was soft and warm, his eyes twinkling suggestively.

Yep, big nope and a nuh-uh, that’s gotta stop. “Well, I’m a librarian by trade, I’m a cat person who also happens to be a Sagittarius, and,” I caught my breath, my brain hunting for something a little less blunt than ‘you’re my brother.’ “You're my brother.” The words fell out of my fucking mouth before I even had a chance to soften the blow. It took me months to find these guys, and my big mouth goes and forgets all forms of subtlety. The anger and frustration at Dad had built up so much inside me that I was having a hard time controlling my feelings, and now I could add embarrassment to the pile. And I never not have control over my feelings. Sometimes.

Dean sat back, stunned. He started to speak, fumbled over several words, and then shut his mouth. I waited patiently while his brain processed the information. It took a few minutes for him to break the silence. “I gotta make a phone call.” Dean stood up from the booth, shaking his head in disbelief, and stepped away from the table as he tapped something into his phone.

“No worries, I’ll be here when you get back.” I waved to him, all innocence and sweetness. He glanced back at me with furrowed brows and stomped off, whispering aggressively into his phone.

“That went better than expected,” I muttered to myself as I happily accepted our coffees from a rather bemused waiter.

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

Half an hour later, Dean returned. He didn’t look at all surprised that I had drank his coffee for him, only a little hurt. I would have pointed out that I’d saved him the trouble of finding it lukewarm and bitter, but the tension in the air was so thick around him that I thought better of it. Behind him, I caught a glimpse of Sam, the younger brother, ducking through the door and giving the baristas a friendly wave.

“Ooh, are we having a family reunion?” I sniped, feeling annoyed that I hadn’t even had a conversation with Dean yet and he was already calling in for backup. “You’ll have to excuse me for my earlier remarks, but I don’t like to beat around the bush.”

He quirked an eyebrow at Sam and frowned. The taller one rolled his eyes and took the chair beside me. Dean slid back into the booth. I was surrounded, but that didn’t matter. What mattered most was confirmation. And I wasn’t going to get that by just staring at them. I opened my mouth to speak, but Sam beat me to it.

“This is… quite the claim, Y/N,” he started, kindly. I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to process having another sibling. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that it isn’t possible-”

Dean butted in, gruffly. “What my brother is getting at is that this isn’t exactly our first rodeo.”

Sam looked at him in worn exasperation, but shook off the comment. “Like I was saying, it isn’t impossible that you could be a long lost sibling, but… do you have any proof?”

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the few pictures I had of Dad and me, plus photos of him and Mama I had shot when they weren’t paying attention. A knot was forming in my throat, but I forced it back down with a sip of ice water.

Sam and Dean each took a few of the photos, riffling through them like they weren’t my only link to a man that I barely knew. Dean stopped at one and nudged Sam. It was the one of me and my mom standing in front of Dad’s black muscle car, big grins pasted on our faces and dripping snow cones melting in our hands. I was 13 and still enamored with the idea of having a traveling father, too self-centered and self-conscious to think about the reason why he wasn’t around like all the other dads. The bittersweet memories of disappointment and otherness began to creep into my brain, sewing the chaos of sadness in their wake.

Taking a gulp of the ice water, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand to cover the frown pulling at the corners of my mouth. “That’s at the county fair. It was one of the longest times I’d remember ever being around him,” I said with a not-so-subtle tinge of bitterness in my voice. “He wasn’t exactly the type to come to the all-school play, or even stick around for more than a weekend.”

The brothers exchanged a look again. I was starting to get annoyed with that look; it was a secret language between siblings that I had never gotten the chance to experience because my father had kept us secret from one another. He had known that we all existed, had even <i>lived</i> with his two families at different times, apparently. I had never thought of Dad as selfish before, but the more I thought about it, the more I could see that he was just as much of a bastard as I had believed since reaching adulthood. The angry part of me was beginning to confuse the more rational side of my brain, and I needed to get the answers I sought before my inner voices started a war inside my head.

While I sat there fighting with my inner, angrier self, Sam and Dean had been in quiet conversation, heads bent close over the picture. Dean flipped it over to the other side, and frowned at my mom’s scrawled writing on the back. “This says it was taken in the summer of ‘94, which means you’re…” he stopped, forehead scrunched as he concentrated on his fingers.

“I’m about to turn 39, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out,” I replied, my knees bouncing from the stress and anxiety ravaging my nervous system.

Dean’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “That can’t be right. Sammy? Right?” I could tell he was floored by the math. If I was 38, that meant I was born between their birthdays. And if that was the case, Dad had a lot more to answer for than just being crappy at his parental role.

Sorting through the photos again, Sam didn’t respond right away. He was lining them up in chronological order, studiously checking every detail.

“Sam!” Dean said sharply, nudging his brother’s elbow.

“Huh? Oh, right.” Sam’s eyes refocused on my face, but I could tell he wasn’t really seeing me. The evidence of my existence was plain on my features, and they would have to be fools to not see my resemblance to our father.

After a while, I began to get fidgety again. “Listen, guys,” I said as I stood up and gathered my things. “It’s been a real pleasure, but it’s getting late. Besides,” pausing, I looked both of them square in the eyes, “I’m sure you two have a lot to discuss.”

Turning, I threaded my way to the exit and made it just outside the door when Dean caught up to me.

“Y/N, wait.” He tapped my shoulder again, and I pivoted to meet his gaze. “If what you say is true, and you are in fact family. Well,” he glanced back at Sam who was coming out behind him. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

[mxstshamelesswoman]

49 questions I’ve never been asked tagmeme

Thanks @oediebees​ for tagging me to answer some random questions :D tbh feel like I don’t know that many peoples on here so I’ll tag @enemy0gene​ @halcyonnhood​ @kitsnicketts​ and also any of my followers who want to do this, answer some questions. Let’s get this thing going :D:D

1. What is the color of your hairbrush?

I have really long thick hair, so I have about 4 different brushes and combs. I have a shower comb that’s light blue, a purple hairbrush, a yellow and pink hairbrush, and I think I might have a green one too somewhere. 

2. A food you never eat?

I cannot stand mayonnaise, ketchup or other condiments. 

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?

I feel like it alternates, but usually I’m too cold. 

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Driving my mom’s car

5. What is your favorite candy bar?

I really love York bars, with mint in them. 

6. Have you ever been to a professional sporting event?

I’ve been to a Rockies game. I really want to see a professional MMA match, but we’ll see. 

7. What was the last thing you said out loud?

Told my brother where to find his shoes. 

8. What is your favorite ice cream?

Mint chocolate chip or butter pecan

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?

Milk, probably. I’m a cold glass of milk in the morning. 

10. Do you like your wallet?

Yeah, I guess. It’s a rip off of Yves Saint Laurent that I got from some street cart in Turkey.

11. What was the last thing you ate?

I had a waffle with some strawberries for breakfast. 

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

Nope. I haven’t gotten new clothes since last winter, I haven’t really needed any. I think I might buy some cute bras soon, I moved up a cup size :/

13. The last sporting event you watched?

I have no idea...I watched like 5 minutes of some tennis match rerun on TV the other day, does that count. 

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

I love caramel kettle corn. 

15. Who was the last person you sent a text message to?

My dad

16. Ever go camping?

Yes! I love camping, I actually went backpacking last with some classmates as part of our school’s orientation program. We went to Shenandoah Valley in Virginia and it was really awesome. Before I’ve been with my family and on some group trips. I really want to go on a big camping trip with just friends and no family. 

17. Do you take vitamins?

I take one of those gummy multivitamins everyday, don’t really know if it does anything but my dad’s kind of a nut about that stuff so I just do it. I also take those vitamin c packets you put in water, more as like yummy juice than anything else. 

18. Do you go to church every Sunday?

I’m Muslim, so that’s a big nope. I also don’t go to Masjid on Fridays (I did while I was at school, but not since coronavirus and never before going to college) I’ve been to church a couple of times for friend’s holy communions and family friend’s baptisms. 

19. Do you have a tan?

Kinda. My skin is pretty tan, but I’d love to just sunbathe and get a good tan going. 

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?

Probably Chinese food, but good Chinese food, not like Panda Express or something. 

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?

Don’t drink soda so I guess that answer is no. 

22. What color socks do you usually wear?

Usually grey or black, depending on what I’m wearing. I wear neon socks when I go running, because they’re fun. 

23. Ever drive above the speed limit?

Omg, yes. It’s really bad, but there’s a lot of roads in my town that have like a “unofficial speed limit” that’s usually 5-10 mph higher than the actual limit. 

24. What terrifies you?

Everything. Real question is what doesn’t. I’m so scared for the future, especially the immediate future with coronavirus, and the state of our world and the election. 

25. Look to your left what do you see?

The couch back up to the wall in the office. My dad’s weird giant globe. My dog’s leash, abandoned on the couch where my brother left it after walking the dog. A pretty painting of some white flowers. 

26. What chore do you hate?

I hate filling the dishwasher with dirty dishes. I just don’t like touching dirty dishes in general. 

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

The Hemsworth brothers, tbh. Or my friend Sydney, who got her name because she was born on the first day of the Sydney olympics. 

28. What is your favorite soda?

I haven’t really had soda in a few years, but I really like Izzy’s which I guess might be soda. I like La Croix too. 

29. Do you go into a fast food place or just hit the drive through?

Always drive through. I hate going them, always smell like grease and bleach. 

30. Who was the last person you talked to?

My brothers,

31. Favorite cut of beef?

I love a good steak, so probably some cut of steak. 

32. Last song you listened to?

Right this minute, I’m listening to Lego House by Ed Sheeran. Before this, it was Bright by Echosmith. 

33. Last book you read?

Right now, I’m reading How to do Nothing by Jenny Odell, but the last book I finished before this was We Wish to Inform You that Tomorrow We Will be Killed with our Families by Phillip Gourevitch, which details the Rwandan genocide and its progression. It’s really graphic and depressing, but a good read. 

34. Favorite day of the week? 

I really love Tuesdays and Fridays.  I feel like they both have really good vibes. Nowadays though, all days feel the same. 

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards?

Probably yeah. I tried just now and my dog started staring at me like I had three heads. 

36. How do you like your coffee?

Little cream, a lot of sugar. 

37. Favorite pair of shoes?

I have ratty pair of black vans I like. And a pair of faux leather half cut cowboy boots. 

38. At what time do you usually go to bed?

I get in bed by around 10 but I don’t fall asleep until like midnight. 

39. At what time do you normally get up?

6:30 or 7, I like to go for runs in the morning before work. 

40. What do you prefer - sunrises or sunsets?

Sunsets, they’re so calming. 

41. How many blankets are on your bed?

I have 4 blankets on my bed right now, along with a plain old sheet. By the time I wake up, usually all but one have been karate kicked off the bed by yours truly. 

42. Describe your kitchen plates?

Um, at school I have just one blue plastic one, cause that’s all I need. At home, we have these white square ones with green flowers on them. 

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage?

I don’t drink alcohol, but my friends make these mocktails out of grapefruit juice and Sprite that I like. I also like mojito gummy bears, so maybe I'd like mojitos. 

44. Do you play cards?

Yeah, I like poker, usually play 5 card draw. I also like Speed, Spoons, and BS, which I feel are more childish games but very fun. 

45. Can you change a tire?

Do I know how to? Yes. Would I be able to physically use the jack and lift a tire if I needed to? Guess we’ll see if I ever end up with a flat. 

46. What is your favorite province?

In Canada? British Columbia, I really love Victoria Island. 

47. Favorite job you ever had?

Right now, I’m an intern at a nonprofit and it’s a really great job. 

48. How did you get your biggest scar?

I have a lot of stretch marks, which I guess are scars? I was really small as a kid, because I was born premature, with a lot of growth issues. When those all got fixed, I shot up and out, and so I ended up with a crap ton of stretch marks, especially on my back, legs, ass and boobs. 

49. What did you do today that made someone happy?

I haven’t done much of anything today, but I went to see this car and that made my dad happy, even though I didn’t want to. So I guess that. 

If anyone read this to the end, thanks for playing along. If you decide to do it, tag me, I wanna see other people’s responses!

[bewaretheundead91]

Michael Langdon (prior to outpost) X Reader 

Ages will change over time If I continue leading to outpost Michael.

Summary: Y/N is a Senior in high school, her parents made her move from their large modern home to an old house, perfect for a restoration project, in an old neighborhood. Murder House dwells just across the street from her. During a fall night, she is dared to go check it out.

A/N: I suck at summaries. This isn’t really edited or meant to be taken too seriously. Just something fun I wrote quickly. I like to imagine different ways Michael’s plot could have gone. The third part of my other Michael fic should be posted today or tomorrow.

I guess let me know if you like it and want me to tag you in the next update? 

Dare

It was the weekend before halloween and y/n’s folks were out of town. To celebrate some alone time without the parentals, y/n hosted a bon fire in her backyard after the big game. The football team had just lost against their rivals and y/n was even happier that she had a place everyone could just relax. Theater kids to cross country runners to football players to debate team members were in attendance. There was even an aspiring DJ, with a set up on the back patio blasting their latest mixes. And this kid was good. Y/N’s parents had money, money to buy old houses and to do whatever they wanted with them.

Y/N grabbed a beer from a cooler next to the DJ set and looked up into the darkening sky,  above, circling were large black birds. They were going around and around forming a dizzying cyclone shape over the house across the street. With a quick twist her beet was opened and she took a long swig. Keeping her eyes up at the sky she made her way down the wooden steps of the patio, past her large in ground pool, and down toward the controlled fire in the center of her large back yard.

“Hey Y/N!” Someone shouted colliding with her shoulder. “Watch out!”

“Oh sorry dude,” She laughed blinking her eyes and moving her gaze from the sky to a girl she recognized as someone who sat behind her in pre calc. The girl looked up and lifted a brow in confusion. “Just a little distracted tonight. Enjoy the party! Pizzas in the house.”

With one last glance up, Y/N made her way to the fancy fire bit her mother put in and sat down in a foldable chair. She took another sip of her beer and just watched as her peers danced in the background, drinking too much cheap beer, and trying to appease their unstable hormones with a quick hook up. The thought of college apps wafted around in her head.

“None of that,” One of her friends shouted, he sat down in a neighboring chair. His girlfriend came trailing behind him giggling. She was drunk. “You made the perfect score on the ACT and you’re going to get into the first college you applied for.”

“Yeah Y/N,” His girlfriend agreed. “You’re like hella smart.”

“I don’t know guys,” Y/N said looking up at the sky again. The birds were still swarming. “Jake aren’t you a little nervous about getting in and Leah aren’t you afraid for your future?”

“Y/N,” Jake said. “We are, we just understand that we need to let loose while we still can because the big bad college is going to suck our souls from us with all the homework we’re about to gain. You’re parents aren’t home you should be living it up more than those drunk stumbling marching band kids in the corner of your kitchen.”

“You’re right!” Y/n took another sip of her beer and looked back at her lit up house. Two kids were attempting to make out. She laughed.

Surrounding the fire were her closest friends, all from different clubs and organizations on campus. They were popular, there was no denying that. Y/N though popular, was only made so due to knowing her closest group of friends all of her life. Also having parents with money and an occasional plane to through big parties didn’t hurt either.

“So tell me about this old house your family decided to move into?” Jake asked. “It’s really old. Like made in the late 1800s old.”

“My mom has this thing for restoration, you know that,” Y/N said fidgeting with her oversized denim jacket. She pulled the sleeves of her long sleeve stripe top out from the cuffs of the denim. “Nothing weird happens here. It looks creepy, but noting happens here. Like at all.”

“Yeah right,” Another friend spoke up, it was her friend Cally, a softball player. “Let me guess you’re barely sleeping. Or you're sleeping with the lights on.”

“Honestly nothing happens here, it’s just really fucking old and everything creaks.” Y/N says annoyed. She downs another sip of her drink. She was starting to feel buzzed. She hated being a light weight.

“That’s the ghosts dude,” Jake laughs. “If you hear creaking at night, it’s the ghosts making themselves known.”

“No I think that’s just old floorboards and door hinges needing to be greased up.” Mac cuts in, Cally’s girlfriend, another softball player.

“Nothing happens here, but the old house across the street that’s a different story.” Y/N perks up an eye brow.

“Murder house right?” Cally shouted with a spark in her eye. “I’ve heard about that house.”

“We’ve all heard about that house,” Jakes girlfriend chimed in.

“I didn’t know about it until I moved across the street from it.” Y/N says shaking her head.

“But aren’t you like into spooky shit?” Mac asked. “Vampires and zombies.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m into true crime and murder,” Y/N challenged. “But that’s how I know my house isn’t haunted and well the one across the street is.”

“What are you saying?” Cally asked.

“Am I the only one noticing the birds swarming above and across the street?” Y/N says.

“It’s dark and everyone has had a bit too much to drink so probably,” Jake said looking up. He looks up and he jumps in his seat. His girlfriend falls to the damp grassy ground. “What the hell?”

“Maybe something died there,” His girlfriend says. “Like a cat or someone hit a deer.”

“Do those look like buzzards to you Leah?” Y/N asked. “Because they look like crows to me.”

“Okay it could just be a weird weather pattern.”

“This is LA, what is weird about the constant sun and smog?” Y/N asked. “There isn’t even barely a breeze.”

“But how does having a lot of birds flying around your house make a claim house being haunted, other than the fact that a lot of people died there?”

“I don’t know maybe the fact that a lot of people died there?” Cally said. “Not just died, but like murdered.”

“Let me continue with what I was saying,” Y/N said annoyed. She quickly chugged the remaining liquid in the glass bottle she held and through it at the fire. “I’ve seen lights on in the house at night.”

“Faulty wiring.” Mac huffed and crossed her arms.

“I’ve seen movement behind the curtain covered windows. When the lights are on, I’ve heard screaming, a boy screaming,” Y/N says pointing toward the direction of the house. “I also remember waking up around 3 in the morning to see people dressed in cloaks standing on the front lawn of that house.”

“Have you thought about just going over there and peaking in the window?” Cally asked. 

“Uh, no.” Y/N said bringing her jacket around herself tighter. 

“I dare you to.” Cally said with a smug look across her face.

“Why don’t you do it?” Y/N said shooting her a look.

“I’m not their neighbor, if someone actually lives in that house you can just say were checking up on them. Mention something about there being break in or noise complaints.”

“Uh, we are the noise complaints,” Y/N pointed to their friend blasting music. “That wouldn’t make sense.”

“Well you can’t back out of a dare.” Jake said.

“We are not even playing a game!” Y/N said.

“We just started,” Mac said with a lifted brow. “You can do this. I’ve got a bat in my trunk that you can take with you just in case.”

“What is she going to do with a damn bat against a ghost?” Leah asked.

“That’s not the point,” Mac said. “You’ve got yourself a keeper here Jake. It’s just in case actual people are in the house.”

“If I do this, you all owe me a coffee fix for the rest of the semester.”

“Deal.” They all said in unison. 

“And Cally, I want your lace up, high top boots.”

“Not happening.”

Y/N stood in her front lawn with a metal bat in hand, her friends were behind her. Her entire front lawn and street were lit up by street lamps. They casted a deep orange glow, but that same glow that lit up her lawn never touched the lawn across the street from her. She looked down at her shoes, new Vans that had yet to be completely broken in, with it’s white details against the black still very white. She quickly bent down and tied the laces tighter, hoping to not trip over the long laces.

“You’re stalling,” Jake shouted. “Just go. We’re right here man.”

“Shut up Jake!,” Leah shouted and Y/N heard Jake groan when an elbow hit his side. “You’re going to wake the neighbors.”

“Oh they are still awake. We are loud as hell,” Mac said. “But you are stalling.” 

Y/N looked back at her friends and gripped the bat until she felt it slide against her sweaty palms. She checked her phone battery life, it was at 75%. She let out a sigh and slid it into her back pocket. Before stepping into the street she looked both ways, the whole street was lit up with street lamps and there were no signs of cars. She walked faster wanting to get the whole dare over with. They said to look in a window, but not go in. The door probably wouldn’t be unlocked.

Once on the unkept property an odd feeling creeped down her shoulders to her feet. She swallowed hard and took in a heavy breath. Quickly she turned around leaving the house at her back and saw her friends had walked closer to the street and shot a thumbs up beneath the lights. Y/N nodded and took out her phone, she turned the flashlight app on and lit up the property from it’s darkness.

“I’ve got this,” She whispered to herself. “I can do this, no one lives here and It’s just me looking into the windows.”

Y/N walked toward the house, cautiously looking at the over grown bushes and weeds that that created irregular shadows against her phone light. From the corner of her eye she thought she saw a figure and flung the light toward the direction. The light exposed moss and vines swaying on their own.

“What the fuck,” She whispered. “There’s not breeze.”

Another movement came from out the corner of her other and she flung the light towards it’s direction. When the light hit the area she swore she saw two little girls, but nothing was there. The light of her phone had exposed a window that she could peek in. She shook her head and practically hopped over toward the window. 

Once the light of her phone his the window she took a peek in. The house, though old and supposedly vacant,  looked clean and lived in. She propped her phone against the window with the light directly against and cupped her hand against the glass.

“This doesn’t make sense,” She said to herself. “No one lives here.”

Y/N grabbed her phone and walked away from the window. She jogs over toward the front door and decided she wanted to try and go in. She could hear her friends shouting for her not to go in. She grasped the door and it opens. Heat from the house hit her like a fever hot flash.

“What the?” She says. “Why is it so hot?”

The feeling she felt turned into churning anxiety at the pit of her stomach, but she took a step into the house anyway. The door behind her shut slowly and it made her jump sending her further into the house and dropping her phone.

“Turn around and leave,” A faint voice whispered. She flung her head to the side where the sound came from. It was more like a gentle draft. “Gooo”

She bent down to collect her phone. After picking it up she checked her screen, it had not been shattered. She was thankful for phone upgrades. After examining for damage she shined the light to illuminate the place. She was in the foyer right now and could see an opening to a larger room. Sweat began to build at the back of her neck and she could feel it dripping down in-between her breasts. She yanked the denim jacket off and flung it against a wall.

“Turn back.” Another whispered.

“Who’s there?” Y/N shouted walking through the opening of the room she flung the light of her phone everywhere. In the room were leather couches and a wooden desk. “How long has this been in here?”

“Leave now…”

“If you’re a damn ghost show yourself.” Y/N’s voice began to shake. She pushed up the sleeves of her shirt feeling too hot. Her hair began to feel soaked by the sweat now. “It has to the be alcohol. I’m drunk. No one is there.”

She walked until she found a stairway. It was grand and beckoned for her to go up stairs. Before she could take a step she she heard a dripping sound against the wooden floor and felt something trickling down her nose. Her head swam from the heat and alcohol, her stomach churned with anxiety, and now her nose bled in reaction to it.

“I must be really anxious.” She spoke to herself trying to calm down. “It’s an old house. Old hoses make noise. We know this.”

Y/N nose only bled when she was really anxious. She watched as another drop of her blood fell to the hardwood floor and splash back up. She internally cursed at herself. Now she had defaced property. 

She went up a few steps toward the upper level and the whispers became louder taunting at her. All shouting, leave, get out, and he will wake!

“He?”  Y/N asked shaking her head, her head now pounded with a pressure and pain and she felt as if she would vomit. She swayed a bit on the step she just took and the metal bat lazily slipped from her sweat drenched palms. “Who.”

She hazily looked up toward the stop of the stair case and caught a glimpse of a teenage boy wearing nothing, but boxers. His hand placed in his hair. He tilted his head to the left and examined her. Y/N jumps and her body lost it’s balance. Trying to regain it she took another step, but then stumbled backwards. She fell backwards and landed at the bottom with a quiet thud. With her eyes still open watched as the stranger ascended down the steps toward her. She tried to get up and to grab her phone, but her head still pounded. More trickling of blood tickled at her face, this time at her left temple. 

“Shhhh.” A voice cooed. And Y/N collapsed backwards toward the hot ground.

She was in and out, she felt like she was floating. Y/N opened her eyes to see her head was resting against the strangers bare arms and her leg dangle against his other. His blonde shaggy locks gently swaying in her face. There was a peculiar expression across his face. She breathed.

“Shhhh.” The stranger said again, the expression turned into a sympathetic smile. 

Y/N passed out in the strangers arms.

[nialledfromfics]

Chapter Five - Dream Lover

(make sure you click the link in the title for an instant musical throwback ~ enjoy!)

The following three weeks had passed by quickly for Vivian. The weather had grown increasingly warmer and her eighteenth birthday was approaching–only a few days away–and with spending every free moment with Niall that she could, really, the girl had never been happier. They had dates at the drive-in, went for sodas at Betty’s, spent a fun evening at the county fair in the next town over, and on one wicked hot afternoon, found themselves at Vivian’s favorite secluded spot: Big Oak Pond.

It was a small swimming hole, tucked up a ways on some lush land that Vivian’s family owned. Giving the spot its moniker all by herself, it was a special place she had gone to since she was a child; spending the dog days of summer keeping cool in the water and swinging from the rope that was tied to the big oak tree right on the bank. No one knew a thing about it. She had kept it a secret from everyone in her life, even her best friends, not wanting to share her serene and magical little place with anyone.

Until Niall.

Camped out on a picnic blanket, Vivian had brought Niall up to Big Oak Pond only a couple of times, once when they were on their way to the fair just to show him her secret place, and another to watch the sunset one evening after having some ice cream at Sunday’s. But there they were, on a scorching late Wednesday afternoon having just finished up a nice packed meal that Vivian had made for them. She had decided to pick him up at the shop after school let out, Niall asking Phil who kindly let him take the rest of the evening off. It was very nice of him, but Phil knew how hard Niall worked. He also knew who Vivian was, or more importantly, who her father was and he would do anything to keep things pleasant.

Niall was leaned back on his palms with Vivian nestled snugly in between his bent up legs. Her back was laying against his front, clad in only a white tank as his dirty work shirt had been removed and lay crumpled beside them, and her arms were hooked over his thighs. They quietly watched a few of the roaming ducks float around the dank colored water as they sat, a refreshing light breeze whizzing around them.

Vivian closed her eyes, a little contented hum easing past her lips as she counted the padder of Niall’s heart thumping against the back of her neck. She felt like she was in heaven like that with him. With her head resting on his chest, Niall tipped his chin down and nuzzled his nose into her hair, taking in a tiny breath. She smelled so pretty, like a field of blooming wildflowers. Vivian felt the adoring gesture and turned her face to look up at him. He smiled at her, his heavy gaze swarming over hers before he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. He would never love anything as much as he loved kissing her. She was so gentle and kind, every ounce of her better than the last. Niall knew he was the luckiest fella on the planet and being there with her–Vivian cradled against him, her tender kisses on his lips–he was sure he would never take her for granted and always do everything to keep her safe.

She was the only girl he had ever felt that way about.

“This is my favorite place on earth,” the young woman sighed out as she turned her attention back to the bathing ducks in the middle of the pond. She rubbed her palms against the outside of Niall’s knees, oblivious to the days-old grease splattered on his jeans. “And now I get to share it with my favorite person.”

Niall chuckled, pushing a kiss to her temple before he reached up to gently card his fingers through the side of her flowing hair, brushing it from her face. It made Vivian’s eyes flutter. “Guess that makes it my favorite place now too, eh?”

“But of course,” Vivian agreed with a sheepish giggle.

There was another moment of peaceful quiet before Vivian turned her head slightly towards him again, Niall’s fingers stalling at the ends of her hair. “Niall, can I ask ya somethin’?”

His mouth turned down at the corners. “Sure, love.”

Vivian sat herself up from her place on Niall’s chest and shifted her body around to face him, crossing her legs underneath her. She was wearing a pair of baby pink shorts and a white flowy summer blouse, her sandals having long been taken off and sitting at the corner of the patchwork quilt. Her hands were wringing in her lap, something Niall had taken notice of, and Vivian wasn’t even sure why she was nervous; really there was no reason for her to be. Maybe it was the question she was about to ask, maybe it was because she had waited so long to ask it, but either way, there was a slight apprehension inside her that wasn’t sure what his answer would be.

“So, you know my birthday is comin’ up, this Saturday in fact,” she started, looking over at him, “and well, I’m havin’ a party at my house. It’s a huge event, everyone’s gonna be there...and I was wonderin’, well, I’d like it if...maybe, you’d come.”

Clicking his jaw to the side, Niall’s blue eyes narrowed slightly and a lopsided smirk tugged at his lips. She knew in that instant that her worry was for nothing. “You invitin’ me to your party?”

Vivian nodded her head, her soft waves of light brown hair bouncing against her shoulders. “Yeah...but if it’s too much–”

“I’d be honored,” he said, cutting her off. Niall reached out to gently cup his hand around her upper arm, giving it a little squeeze. Vivian had no idea why she had been so nervous asking him, or why she had waited so long to do it. Maybe for the fact that in the back of her mind, she was afraid he wouldn’t still be with her by the time her party arrived…

“Great!” she exclaimed, hunching her shoulders in an excited laugh. “Its really gonna be a gas, I just know it. You can meet all my friends, and…well, and my parents too.”

Niall sat himself all the way up, grabbing a cigarette out of the pack that laid on the blanket beside him and lit one up. Taking a puff, he blew the smoke out above their heads. “So, your parents know about me?” he asked.

Tucking her knees up to her chest, Vivian peeked up at the sky, watching the clouds roll by overhead. “My momma does. Sorta.”

“What’s that mean?”

Vivian shrugged. “I dunno, just means I told her about you once, but…”

“But your old man…”

Niall locked his eyes with Vivian’s. “Daddy still doesn’t know.”

“Viv!” Niall groaned.

“I’m gonna tell him, okay? I’m gonna, I swear it.”

Niall shook his head. “We talked ‘bout this, Viv, last week at the fair, you said you were gonna tell him.”

“I know,” she said, peering down at her lap, “and I will. I just gotta find the right time, is all.”

Niall pushed out a huff. Plucking the cigarette from between his lips, he leaned forward and reached out with his other hand, hooking a finger under Vivian’s chin to bring her enticing green eyes to his. “I’m serious ‘bout you, Viv. More serious than anythin’ in me life. I don’t want us to be a secret no more, it was alright in the beginnin’, when things were–… well, new and all, but I wanna tell the world ‘bout us. I want your parents to be okay with me, with us bein’ together.”

Vivian’s lips tugged into a smile. “Me too.”

“And it can’t be okay, if they don’t even know.” She nodded and Niall scratched his nails through the scruff on his jaw. “So, uh, who else is gonna be at this party, anyhow? Anyone I know?”

It was subtle, but not subtle enough that Vivian wasn’t quick to catch on to what he was referring to. Cliff. To be perfectly honest, she hadn’t even thought about Cliff and the guys being at her party, or how Niall would deal with being in the same room with them. She should have, but just the thought of making sure Niall would attend was the only thing that had been on her mind. Her green eyes shifted down his rugged features. “I…” she paused.

Niall wrinkled his brow slightly as he took another puff of his cigarette, aware of what she was thinking. He wasn’t trying to put her on the spot, or make her choose, it was her party after all and she had the right to invite whomever she wanted, but he really hated them fellas. For Vivian though, he would make the best of any situation. He would do anything to make her happy. “Ya know what, don’t worry ‘bout it, love, it’s fine.”

“No...no, Niall, I’ll take care of it, I promise. I don’t want any of ‘em there anyway.” Vivian shook her head. “The only person I care about bein’ at my party,...is you.”

A hint of a smirk cracked across Niall’s lips before his face fell and he dropped his stare. “There’s somethin’ I gotta be honest with you about, concernin’ them guys. Somethin’ I never told ya.”

Furrowing her brows at his unexpected statement, she watched as Niall took one last long drag of his cigarette and flicked the end into the grass by the edge of the water. What could he possibly mean by that? Licking over his lips, Niall wiped the sweat off of his forehead then ran his fingers through his slicked back hair and glanced up to the old oak tree that was next to them. His stare shifted between the strings of branches dotted with green leaves, and it reminded him of the piercing color of Vivian’s eyes, and he looked back over to the beautiful girl sitting before him. He could see the frightened look on her face. He definitely didn’t want to frighten her, and that was precisely the reason he had chosen not to speak up about that particular situation in the first place.

“That first night we went to the drive-in,” he began, resting his forearms on the tops of his bent up knees and locking his hands together, “our first date? I kinda ran into Cliff and them candyasses up at the snack bar.”

Vivian’s mind jarred back to that very night, quickly remembering how out of sorts Niall had acted when he came back with the popcorn and soda. She darted her eyes over his. “So that’s what was wrong with ya, why didn’t ya say somethin’?”

“I didn’t wanna ruin the night,” he confessed, faintly shrugging a shoulder, “you looked so pretty and I just wanted to be there with ya.”

Tipping her head to the side, Vivian reached out and wrapped her hand around the top of Niall’s. “What happened?”

“They cornered me, roughed me up a bit, told me to stay clear of ya, and if I didn’t there’d be hell to pay…”

Niall swallowed hard before he finished. “Cliff said he’d kill me if I didn’t leave ya alone.”

Vivian shook her head and dropped her stare to the blanket. “He didn’t mean that,” she whispered, almost unsure of the words coming out of her own mouth. She had no idea what Cliff was capable of, but that was a foolish empty threat. It had to be.

“It sure didn’t feel that way,” Niall mumbled.

There was a fire raging in her at the single thought of what Cliff and the others had done to Niall, threatening his life in that way. It just wasn’t fair how they treated him. And she knew everything that had happened over the past month; the fight, the threats and gossipy whispers and rotten looks, it had all been her fault. Niall sensed the disturbing thoughts swirling in Vivian’s mind and he tried to reassure her. “Look, it’s all fine now, ya know? He got the fight he was lookin’ for, he won’t be botherin’ us no more. It’s done.”

“It’s never done with Cliff,” she gently warned him. “I’m so sorry, Niall, I feel like everythin’ that’s happened to ya, all of it is my fault.”

“That’s not true, not at all. And ya know I would do anythin’ for you,” Niall commented.

Vivian pulled in a shallow breath, biting at her bottom lip. “I know. And I know its hard for you bein’ in this town, here with all these people that look at you like ya don’t belong, but...you do belong. I need ya to know that. I just don’t want you feelin’ like you...gotta stay...for me or somethin’…”

With his face pulling in, Niall huffed out a breath. He was beside himself. He never wanted Vivian to feel like he didn’t want to be there. That he didn’t want to be there with her. “Viv, baby, you are the only reason I gotta stay,” he said, reaching out to cradle her cheek in his hand. He leaned in and pushed a kiss to her lips.

Her eyes fell closed in contentment, his lips moving softly over hers and she was nearly breathless by the time he pulled away. Vivian rested her forehead to his. “I never want you to leave,” she whispered.

Niall rubbed his thumb across the apple of her cheek just as Vivian inched back to look at him. “At least not without me.”

****

Vivian always loved her drives home from town at night. The roads, quiet and isolated, winding through the trees and the glare of the full summer moon shining bright through the dark night, almost enough that she didn’t even have to use her headlights. It was a time for her to be alone with her thoughts, which for the past month had been over run with only one thing–Niall. She would daydream about the heat of his mouth on hers when he kissed her and the way his fingers felt delicately brushing through her hair. The way his skin smelled on a particularly balmy afternoon, or the way his blue eyes gleamed with affection every time his stare caught hers.

The thoughts always brought a smile to her lips, and that night was no different. After their little impromptu dinner picnic at the pond, Niall jumped into the water to cool off and then preceded to get Vivian all wet when he got out and smothered her with a million kisses before they both ended up falling asleep. Curled up on Vivian’s grandmother’s patchwork quilt and wrapped in each others arms, it was nearly midnight by the time Niall awoke, and he gently shook Viv’s shoulder to wake her. She was sure her father would have an absolute conniption if she were to come in that late, especially being the second time that week, so they rushed to clean everything up and drop Niall back off at the shop before Viv headed home.

She could see the lights leading the way up the long drive to the Manor as she passed through the main wrought iron gate, which had been conveniently left open. Vivian knew that it was far too late for her to be arriving home, way past her curfew as she circled around the water fountain that sat in the middle of the drive. Parking her car, Vivian grabbed her handbag from the front seat as she got out before hurrying up the steps of her front porch. She prayed to herself that her father had already long gone to bed, it would be easier for her to sneak up to her bedroom and go unnoticed if so, and she slowly unlocked the large front door and tiptoed through.

Her sandals had barely made contact with the marble floor of the foyer when she heard a sound come from her father’s study. Vivian paused, afraid to make even the slightest movement in hopes that maybe he hadn’t really noticed her come in and she could still have a chance to sneak upstairs. No such luck. The young woman heard her father clear his throat again, a distinctive sound she was all too familiar with, and she let out a sigh, dropping her arms down by her sides in defeat. Walking across the open foyer to the study just at her left, Vivian carefully eased herself into the room through the half-open door.

Her father had yet to even look up at her, just stared down at some papers that were scattered on top of his elaborately carved mahogany desk with a tobacco pipe pinched tight between his lips. Her green eyes slid up the bookcase enslaved walls, hundreds upon hundreds of books lining the shelves, as she squeezed her fingertips over the leather flap of her handbag that she held in front of her. “So, how was your night?”

He had finally spoken to her. And his brisk tone was very much evident to how the conversation was going to go. She shot her stare over to her father, not surprised to see that he was still very much looking down at the papers strewn about his desk. “Um…g-good,” Vivian stuttered. So much for trying to keep her cool. She flicked her eyes about, scraping her teeth along her bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to finish whatever the interaction was and get out of that room. “Okay, well, goodnight.”

“Vivian.”

She had already spun around to leave, but wasn’t quite fast enough. Taking in a deep breath, Vivian turned back to face her father. He was looking right at her that time, his pipe now held in his hand. “I don’t approve of you comin’ in at all hours of the night, young lady. You know the rules of this house.”

“Yes, father,” Vivian answered, swallowing hard. It felt like a billion degrees in that room.

He dipped his head down slightly, raising his brow at her. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

Vivian vehemently shook her head. Did he know something? Did he know about Niall? Vivian thought, had momma told him I was goin’ steady with someone? “N-no,” she replied again when he didn’t budge, her voice cracking slightly.

Rolling his lips into his mouth, her father lifted up his chin, his stare still locked firm on his daughter as he began to step around to the front of his desk. “You wouldn’t be lyin’ to me now, would you?”

She could feel her heart galloping in her chest like a thousand horses running a race against her ribcage. There was no way she could tell him about Niall at that moment, he would know that she had been with him all night. Vivian shook her head again. “No, daddy.”

“Alright, I expect you to remember the curfew from now on,” he said, giving her a nod. “Goodnight.”

Letting out a sigh of relief at his retreat, Vivian smiled at her father. “Okay,” she said, rushing over to place a kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, daddy.” She hurried out of the room, closing the door behind her before clambering up the elegant winding staircase to the second floor. Twisting around the bannisters and down the long hallway, she finally made it to her bedroom. Wasting no time, Vivian kicked off her shoes and grabbed the pink rotary telephone off of the nightstand, plopping down on her stomach onto her bed.

She had to call Cherry.

Swinging her bare feet up behind her, Vivian grabbed the handset off the cradle and began to dial her best friend. The dial clicked and spun after every number and Vivian propped up on her elbows, holding the handset between her ear and shoulder as it rang. Cherry answered after the third ring and Vivian barely gave her time to say hello before she was delving into the details of her and Niall’s evening together. Her fingers twiddled with the spring cord as she talked–telling the giggly girl on the other end of the wet kisses shared and the way his body had wrapped around hers as they drifted off to sleep.

“So, ya didn’t go all the way?” Cherry asked, subtlety never her forte.

Vivian rolled her eyes up to the frilly canopy top of her bed. “No, of course not. He hasn’t even tried.”

Cherry smacked her gum in her mouth as she thought, the sound like an irritating punch to Vivian’s ear. “He’s not tried nothin’? Not even a hand up your skirt?”

“Oh God, no!”

The girl laughed. “You’re so funny, Viv. But I am surprised, I’d thought he would’ve at least gotten to second base by now.”

“Not every girl needs to go to second base. Or any other bases for that matter.”

“But why not? Feelin’ ‘em slide into home is loads of fun.”

“Cherry!” Vivian giggled at her friend’s vulgar joke, a blush spilling over her cheeks as she dipped her face down against her bed. “You’re so bad!”

Cherry laughed and Vivian took in a shallow breath to brace herself. “Hey Cher?”

“Yeah?”

“...can I ask ya a favor?”

She heard the rustling of magazine pages being flipped on the other end of the phone before Cherry replied. “Yeah, sure.”

“Do you mind tellin’ Cliff and the other guys that...they can’t come to my party on Saturday?”

“What...why’s that?”

Vivian bit at her lip, her feet swinging back and forth behind her as she picked at the plastic covering of the phone base with her fingernail. “Well, I invited Niall to the party, and with everythin’ that happened with Cliff, I just thought…it would be better if they weren’t there. I mean, I know I had invited them a while back, before I even met Niall, but...I just don’t want there to be any trouble, that’s all.”

There was a staticy silence coming from the line, almost as if Cherry had hung up the phone. “And...we both know how Cliff is, and if he gets the other boys involved, it will be a mess.”

Cherry let out a sigh. “Yeah, I guess I could tell him. I’m not sure how much he’s gonna listen to me though–”

“He’d listen to you better than he’d listen to me right now,” Vivian cut in, “I just...I can’t even bother to look at him, let alone say two words to him.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

Vivian smiled. “Thanks, Cher, I appreciate it. You really are the bees knees.”

****

Vivian awoke that Saturday morning, an excitement already buzzing over her skin as she stretched the sleep away under her blankets with a yawn. She was turning eighteen that night, and there was to be a huge party in her honor. She almost couldn’t believe that the day had finally arrived. Between her and her mother, they had been planning the event for the past six months, and now, it was only mere hours away. And despite all the planning, the one thing she was the most excited about was having Niall there. Excited, and incredibly nervous. She had yet to tell her father of them, that he even existed, but hoped that in meeting Niall it would immediately sequester all the preconceived notions that she knew he would think if he had a heads up about him. She figured if her father could just get to know him–the real him, not the town gossipy version of him–that he would grow to like him just as much as Vivian did.

It was a shot in the dark, she knew that, but it was the only shot she had.

Sitting up in her canopy bed, Vivian pushed the fallen hair from her face and glanced around her brightly-lit bedroom. Baby pink walls and frilly lace curtains. Her white furniture, ornate and trimmed with gold accents and delicate little flowers. She had shelves lined with books and trinkets and small treasures. Mostly ballerina and horse themed items, but a few things that were really special to her. Not much had changed since she was little. It never had bothered her before, but seeing as she was about to turn eighteen, seeing as she was to become a woman, it all seemed a bit...childish when she really took the time to look.

Vivian shrugged her shoulder in a small hum as she lifted her covers to slide her legs off the edge of the mattress. Hoisting herself up out of her bed, she let the long hem of her silk nightgown fall to her knees before she walked over to her closet, sifting through what she wanted to wear that day. Her green eyes gleamed as she peeked over at the back of the one closet door to see the beautiful gown that she had picked out weeks before to wear to her party. It was by far the most gorgeous dress she had ever seen, and she tipped her head to the side and reached over to gently stroke her fingertips across the satin bodice. She hoped that Niall would love it just as much as she did.

The weather had finally grown increasingly hot, sticky and humid, and even though it was only early summer, it was almost insufferable. Vivian decided on a pair of white cotton pressed shorts and lime green button up top, slipping a pair of sandals on her feet and a white headband in her hair. She could smell the bacon and hash browns that had been cooked up for breakfast as she made her way down the winding staircase to the dining room. The familiar smell wafted through the halls and seeped under the doorways, and it would always be something that stuck with her. There was nothing like a good southern breakfast after all.

Stepping into the large room, she was met with her parents already sat in their proper places at the long oak dining table, her father at the end and her mother just to his left. Her mother was sipping a cup of tea and her father was preoccupied with reading the paper, his pipe hanging from his mouth. Her mother looked up as the young woman entered. “Momma...daddy,” she kindly greeted.

Her mother flashed her a sweet smile. “Mornin’, darling.”

“Mornin’, mother.” Vivian politely smiled back as she shuffled over to her chair, which was right next to her mother. Tucking a few pieces of hair behind her ear, she sat down and let her eyes scan the delectable spread before her. Bacon, sausage, eggs, hash browns, biscuits, toast, gravy–all laid out in dishes in the middle of the table. You name it, it was there. Grasping the ice-cold pitcher of orange juice, Vivian poured herself a glass and then plucked a biscuit from the silver tray.

“So, I was kinda thinkin’,” she started, smattering butter and peach jam onto the split biscuit, “maybe we could fix up my room a bit, ya know, since I’m older now?”

Her mother looked over at her and gave her a nod. “I think that’s a swell idea, don’t you, Thomas?”

All eyes shot over to Vivian’s father, who had yet to register that his daughter had even walked into the room. “Whatever you want, Vivian,” he mumbled, clearing his throat a bit as he put down his pipe to take a sip of coffee and flip the page of the newspaper.

Vivian’s mother threw her another bright smile, her blue eyes washing over her daughter’s face. “Are you excited for your party tonight, dear?” she said, daintily having a bite of her eggs.

Letting out a small squeal, which caused her father to peek over at her, Vivian bounced in her seat. “I’m thrilled, momma. Absolutely thrilled,” she told her, picking up her glass to take a sip of juice.

“That’s wonderful,” her mother commented, tapping the corner of her napkin across her painted lips. “Oh, I wanted to ask, did you ever invite that boy to your party? The one you told me about?”

Nearly choking on her juice, Vivian’s eyes went big as she forced herself to swallow the tart liquid, a dribbled slipping down her chin. She reached up to wipe it away with the pads of her fingers and reluctantly caught the incredulous stare of her father. “Boy?” he bellowed, his voice seeming to have gone an octave deeper, “What boy?”

Vivian didn’t know what to do, what to say. She couldn’t tell him yet, it wasn’t the right time. So instead, she just gingerly shook her head. “He’s just a friend, daddy.”

“A friend?” her mother innocently questioned, looking over at her daughter with a wrinkled brow. “Why, I thought you said–”

“Daddy, were you able to get that band to come like I wanted?” It was a very blatant attempt at averting the subject, and Vivian’s heart was pounding as she kept her stare down at her plate. She quickly picked up her jellied biscuit to take a bite. A distracting mouthful of a bite.

Setting down his paper, her father furrowed his brow over at his daughter and picked up his mug to take a long sip of his coffee. Her mother, puzzled at the exchange, glanced between the two of them as she slowly became aware of the growing tension that was wavering up in the room. It wasn’t another moment before she realized what was going on. “Oh yes,” she began, flicking her pointer finger around as she spoke, “that band–the one that plays that rock and roll music that she likes!” She was hoping she could diffuse the awkward situation that she had unintentionally created.

Her father licked over his lips and set down his coffee cup, grabbing the paper and cracking it open with a flick of his wrists. “Even better, I was able to get the Simon Quartet.”

“A string band?” her mother whined, sitting back in her chair and sipping on her tea, “Oh, Thomas…”

He peered overtop the newspaper at her. “I thought it would be classy, Helen.”

“As long as they can play some music from this century, it shouldn’t be any bother,” Vivian said with a shaken giggle, tossing up her hands. God, she hoped this would appease him to not ask anymore questions about Niall.

Folding the paper out of his way, her father leaned forward on his elbows. His green eyes were on his daughter, searching her face. Vivian didn’t know what for though. “So, about this boy–”

“Mmm!” her mother spit out, clinking her cup back down to its saucer and pushing up from her chair. Vivian peeked up to meet her stare. “We have so much to get done today for the party. Busy, busy, busy!”

Flicking her eyes to her father, Vivian hurriedly took one more bite of her biscuit as her mother tapped at her upper arm to hurry her along. “C’mon, dear, let’s get going!”

Vivian slid her chair out and clambered to her feet, taking a sip of her juice to wash down the dense biscuit before waving goodbye to her father. He watched without a word as both ladies walked out of the room, Vivian diligently following her mother. The woman’s heels clicked across the marble floor of the foyer as she grabbed her sunhat, gloves and handbag from their butler, who was standing there waiting.

The two giggled like happy school children as they walked out of the front door, and Vivian’s father let out a huff as he shook his head in amusement, naturally going back to his daily newspaper and smoking pipe.

[queerchoicesblog]

Quill And Ink (RoD, Ximena x MC)

Hey there! As promised a RoD Ximena x MC fanfic which is basically a rewriting of the diamond scene of Chapter 5: the title is taken from the quill tattoo panel option (I picked that one 😅) so sadly it's not fully mine!

Also, I used some of the lines of the original books: I don't own them nor the characters. Full credit to PB writers for both.

Hope you like it!

Word Count: 1551

Perma Tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @psychopathdreamer21 @bbaba-yagaa @abunchofbadchoices @silverhawkenzie @bhavf @begging-for-kamilah @melodyofgraves @kennaxval @strangerofbraidwood

Ximena fanfic tag: @bobasheebaby @boneandfur

(Previous Ximena x MC fanfics: Uptown Girl & Milkshakes? It’s A Date!)

__________________________

He didn't even look at her. He couldn't even look at her.

He gave her his back, incapable to meet her gaze. He could barely tolerate her presence. Ellie...his beloved daughter, his greatest disappointment. “This is not the Ellie I knew”.

"Where did I go wrong?" he asked to the picture of his wife.

You didn't do anything wrong, Dad, it was all my fault. I messed up big time. And now, I'm dead to you, the most important person in my life.

These thoughts haunted Ellie's mind as she walked down the stairs of Logan's loft and stepped inside the kitchen. Most of the gang was there.

"Morning, princess!" Mona greeted her.

She was straddling a folding chair backward, her shirt off, while Ximena tattooed the back of her shoulder. Ellie nodded in acknowledgment and took a seat in a free chair.

"Did you sleep well? We were thinking of going getting some breakfast after the girls are done!" Toby informed her dragging his chair closer.

"How can she be hungry? Are you nut, Toby?" Colt groaned from his spot on the counter.

"Chill, Pretty Boy! Toby was just trying to help" Mona scolded him.

"Yeah, I didn't mean to be insensitive" Toby apologized and searched Ellie's gaze with a grim expression. "I'm awkward with emotional stuff, I only meant to be kind. I totally get it if you don't want to join"

"See?" Mona pointed out as she stood and walked towards the mirror to admire X's work.

"Thank you, Toby. I appreciate that" Ellie gave the guy a weak smile before going quiet again.

Her eyes fell on the tip of her shoes and an uncomfortable silence filled Kaneko's hideout. That's when Ximena took off her gloves and approached the Wheeler girl.

"How are you holding up, honey?" she asked putting a hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Honest answer?" Ellie asked and the young woman face twisted in concern as she nodded.

"I feel like crap. I don't know what to do with Dad and...everything"

"No night last forever. It's always dark before a new dawn" Mona commented and everyone turned towards her.

"It's a Lebanese saying. Or some Katy Perry lyrics, whatever" she explained, shrugging.

"Whatever she meant to say, M. is right, sweetie" Ximena confirmed.

"I know, it's just...tough. I disappointed him" Ellie sighed.

"You're totally entitled to feel sorry, pumpkin. Just know that we're here for you and of there's anything we can do..."

"It's so sweet of you guys, truly. Knowing that helps already" the girl gave everyone a tired smile. "Oh and nice tat, Mona. What does it say?"

"It's a secret, princess" Mona said winking at her.

"Fair enough" Ellie chuckled then she turned back to X. "I didn't know you were a tattoo artist though!"

"I was a tattoo artist back in the day. I like to keep it up as a side-hustle now" the tall woman explained.

"Hold on, this gives me an idea" Toby exclaimed cheerily "Why don't you get a tattoo from X?"

Colt gaped and was about to speak his mind once more but Mona froze him in place with a persuasive side look.

"Well, I've never-" Ellie started.

"You don't have to sweetie. I would be happy to but-"

"Yeah, obviously! No pressure! Why don't you take a look at X's samples though? At the very least it can take your mind off things" Toby insisted, giving her his most encouraging smile.

"I suppose I can do that" Ellie agreed.

Ximena's face brightened as she handed the girl her sample drawings. She gave her space and moved to check on Mona. After a while Ellie pointed one and said rather shyly as usual:

"I like this one"

"Which one, sweetheart?" Ximena asked walking beside her. "The quill?"

"Yeah...I may probably want to remember this day if it makes sense. But still, a tattoo is a tattoo so I want to start small and see if I like it"

"You're gonna love it. And when you do, I've got a whole head full of tattoo ideas-" Toby cheered but Mona cut him short.

"Maybe save that for later, Toby"

"A quill so? It's perfect for you! It's small, cute, classy...and scholars used quills to write back then, right? Like Shakespeare used quills...and you're our resident Shakespeare, honey" Ximena ruffled Ellie's hair playfully making her chuckle.

"Okay guys, we're leaving the kitchen to the ladies!" Mona announced. "We can still get breakfast for everyone. After Toby get a shower because you smell of grease, man. In the meantime, Colt and I will check for the best place in town to get them"

"Sounds fair to me. For once" Kaneko's son concealed jumping off the counter and patting a groaning Toby's shoulder.

"We'll be waiting for the donuts! Oh and you pals, of course" X teased as the gang headed towards the stairs.

"And thank you" Ellie added.

Mona turned and gestured her that it was nothing. Then she disappeared up the stairs.

"Okay so...let's get started, sweetheart!"

As X. gathered her equipment, the Wheeler girl walked back to the chair and took off her shirt, blushing as self-awareness of the situation kicked in.

She shivered when Ximena placed a gloved hand on her bare shoulder to steady her.

"Can you...? Hm-" the former tattoo artist nodded at the left shoulder.

"Oh yeah sorry!" Ellie's cheek turned a new shade of rosy when she lowered the shoulder strap of her bra.

"No apologies needed, sweetie" X said before clearing her throat.

Then she spoke again.

"Okay, El...I can't promise you that it won't hurt a little bit but it's a metaphor of life, right?" they both laughed. "I'll go easy on you, just know that if it hurts too much, say the word and I stop"

Ellie nodded and Ximena started working.

When it was all done, the former that to artist gestured her to go have a look at the mirror. The girl obliged and a tiny small lighten up her face.

"Do you like it, El.?" Ximena asked stopping behind her.

Ellie looked at their reflection in the mirror, X. towering over her while giving her a weak smile, her head slightly cocked to the side. Then she lowered her eyes to the tattoo: little quill seemed like flying as her chest raised and fell.

"It's beautiful! Thank you X...it means a lot"

"Don't even mention it, El. Anytime"

They both looked back into the mirror at the same time and their gaze met there. They stared at each other then X. said

"I'm just happy I was the one tattooing you"

"When I knew you were a tattoo artist I wouldn't have it any other way"

Ximena gently placed her hands over Ellie's upper arms, never breaking eye contact.

"And this way you will have something that reminds you of me when you leave for that prestigious college".

Another smile appeared on the driver's face but, as much as she tried, it didn't fully reach her eyes. Ellie grimaced too.

"Who knows? Maybe I messed that up too"

She felt Ximena gently turning her. When she was facing X. she saw the pained yet determined look on her face.

"Ellie, you will go to that college. You're too smart not to. You're just having a bad day, babe. It might seem to you that you're falling to pieces now but you're stronger than this. I promise you"

Ximena pulled her closer and held her tight. Without thinking, Ellie wrapped her arms around the driver's waist and rested her head behind her collarbone. That's when she felt the soft, shy touch of Ximena's fingertips on her curls and a feather-like kiss on the crown of her head.

Ellie shut her eyes and hugged the young woman tighter.

"If I ever manage not to mess it up...will I lose you too? All this..."

"Of course not, El." Ximena whispered and Ellie could swear her voice was shaking a little. "We'll always have your back...and I'll be just a phone call away"

They lingered into each other arms, in a comfortable silence, with X. gently stroking Ellie's hair until someone knocked at the door.

"They must be back" the driver commented as they parted.

"Special donuts delivery!" Toby triumphantly announced carrying a huge bakery box, Colt and Mona in tow.

"Don't forget the coffee!" Colt added placing a bunch of takeaway coffee cups on the kitchen table.

"Yeah the guys here went all the way with the whole 'donuts for breakfast' thing" Mona teased gesturing at the box.

"Hey there's no such thing as too many donuts" Toby playfully bumped her.

Then he turned to Ellie who put her shirt on in the meantime.

"Hey sunshine, are you hungry now?"

The girl gave him a grateful smile.

"You bet!"

"Hell yeah! Then nobody touch the box, Ellie pick first!" Toby shooed Colt and Ximena away as he placed the box in front of the girl.

"Logan and the boss are on their way, I guess we can start" Mona said and started handing out the coffee cups.

"Oh and later you have to show us your tat, princess. I'm sure X. worked her magic again" she added winking at her friend and colleague.

[thelanguageoflovers]

Tyrus Prompt: The Outsiders AU where one of them is a Greaser and one is a Soc. -*•*

How about 5 times TJ was clumsy and the 1 time Cyrus was?Also I’m setting this in present day because I hecking hate writing 60s slang and classism is ew

I.(November 3rd, 2018)TJ pulled on his leather jacket, stepping out of his house and into the frigid, dry winter air, immediately turning pink with chill. He shook it off, trudging through the snow towards school, his breath coming out in cold trails, spreading through the air as he walked. His shoes quickly became heavy with cold water, seeping through his socks.After an hour of walking, he finally found himself in front of the school, sighing as he pulled off his shoes and dumped the water onto the pavement. TJ made his way into the school, weaving through people with his eyes trained on the ground. Of course, that only resulted in the greaser sliding on his wet shoes and running straight into Cyrus Goodman.Of course, TJ thought to himself. Leave it to me to run into the most popular Soc in school.“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he apologized quickly, desperately avoiding eye contact with the younger.“Hey, it’s okay,” Cyrus replied gently, reaching for TJ’s arm and waving off Buffy and Andi, who quickly rushed to his side. “No harm done, I promise.”“I’m really sorry, my shoes were wet and they have like zero traction,” TJ explained, gesturing vaguely to his feet.“It wasn’t your fault, really. These floors are terrible with wet shoes, and I should have been paying more attention,” Cyrus assured, finishing just as the bell rang.“I-I’ve got to get to class, sorry again,” TJ stammered, rushing away. Just before he disappeared around a corner, he heard Cyrus call after him.“It really wasn’t your fault, Grease!” The last word was teasing but gentle, and TJ bit back a smile, turning around to walk backwards.“You just keep telling yourself that, Soc!”

II.(December 21st, 2018)TJ held a book in his hands the whole way home from the library, his eyes never leaving the pages. Of course, TJ’s feet tangled together and he tripped onto the sidewalk. Unfortunately, he ended up taking down Cyrus Goodman, who’d apparently just crossed the street onto the sidewalk he was on to meet Buffy and Andi, with him.“Oof,”  Cyrus huffed with a chuckle, standing up and brushing himself off before holding a hand out to TJ. TJ accepted it gratefully, smiling at the younger apologetically, as he frantically made sure his book was okay.“I’m so sorry, I was reading and I just…” TJ explained, gesturing dismissively.“No big deal,” Cyrus said coolly, looking sternly at Andi, who’d just lurched forward to hurt TJ. “I’ve gotta have someone knock me over every now and then, I guess. Buffy, I swear, step away from the greaser.”“Fine, fine,” Buffy grumbled, backing away with her hands in the air.“Sorry about them, they’re just protective,” Cyrus explained, looking pointedly over TJ’s shoulder at his best friends.“It’s fine, if you knocked me over, my twin sister Amber might actually pull a switchblade on your ass,” he joked, laughing gently.“Comforting,” Cyrus teased.“She’s over-protective, that’s all,” TJ explained, glancing over Cyrus’s shoulder to find none other than Jonah Beck, varsity jacket and all, walking down the street towards them. “Damn it. I-I’ve gotta go, sorry again!” TJ stammered, rushed.“Wait, TJ-” Cyrus tried to stop him, but TJ was already rushing back the way he’d come, stepping around Buffy and Andi with a polite smile. He shoved his hands in his pockets, the book under an arm. Cyrus watched over Buffy’s shoulder as TJ slid slightly in the ice, before turning back to meet his best friends’ eyes.“Cyrus,” Buffy started slowly. “Anything you want to tell us?”“I mean, I-” Cyrus’s sentence was interrupted by Jonah approaching their group, his generally sunny demeanor considerably dampened.“Hey, Cy-Guy, who was that greaser? He looked like trouble.”“See?” Buffy exclaimed. “Even Jonah sees it!”“Guys, seriously. It’s fine! He’s just a little clumsy!” Cyrus defended.“Only around you!” Andi protested. Cyrus felt a blush rise on his cheeks and he looked down at his shoes.“I mean, yeah…” he agreed, unable to hold back a grin. “But it’s only ever been because of his shoes or his book!”“Mhm.” Buffy remained unconvinced. “I’m sure.”“Really! I mean, it’d be kind of nice if it weren’t because of his shoes or a book…” he trailed off, looking over Jonah’s shoulder where he’d last seen TJ, his expression 80% unreadable and 20% longing.“Called it!” Buffy exclaimed, holding a hand out expectantly. Andi and Jonah both grumbled slightly, but handed over ten dollar bills.“You bet on me?” Cyrus asked loudly, crossing his arms.“You’ve been clearly in love with him since he ran into you in the hallway!” Buffy defended, putting the money in her bag with a smirk.“No I haven’t!” Cyrus protested. “I can’t be in love with him, what would people say?”“Well, probably about three snide remarks and two flat out insults before one of us figured it out and killed them,” Jonah teased with a shrug.“I’m not in love with a greaser!” Cyrus insisted. Andi, Buffy, and Jonah shared a look, before Andi and Buffy wrapped arms around Cyrus’s shoulders, Andi on his left and Buffy on his right. They hugged him closer as Jonah stepped aside, saying a quick goodbye before turning in the general direction of his house. “Whatever you say, Cy.”

III.(January 20th, 2019)TJ was so intently focused on the music he was listening to that he didn’t realize there was a tree root sticking out of the courtyard until it was too late, and he was falling through the freezing air- and directly into Cyrus Goodman’s arms.“God, we’ve gotta stop meeting like this, Grease,” Cyrus said, employing TJ’s affectionate nickname once again, having lost his balance upon catching TJ. “We really, really do, Soc,” TJ agreed, helping Cyrus up. “I could not be more sorry, Cyrus. I’m so clumsy.”“So I’ve noticed,” Cyrus chuckled, pulling off his jacket to brush off the snow that remained on it. “So, does your habit of falling all over the place only kick in around me?” Cyrus asked, wandering aimlessly with TJ across the courtyard.“More or less,” TJ shrugged. “Only when your presence coincides with that of a book, some wet shoes- or a really good playlist.” He ticked off the previous occurrences of his unfortunate clumsiness on his fingers, waving his phone in the air as evidence.“Ah.” Cyrus nodded in understanding, stopping TJ’s hand in mid-air to look at the screen of his phone. “Great songs- I think.”“You don’t know these songs?” TJ asked incredulously, turning at a corner of the courtyard, checking to make sure Cyrus had seen the right playlist.“Maybe like three of them?”“There are 318 on here!” TJ exclaimed, laughing.“Okay maybe 18 of them,” Cyrus corrected himself.“How can you possibly not know 300 of the songs on this list?” TJ asked, exasperated.“I don’t know! We come from very different worlds, Grease,” he said sadly. TJ nodded, looking away.“Yeah, we really do.” And with that, he walked away, ducking under tree limbs, hands in his pockets.“God damn it, I’m in love with a greaser.”

IV.(February 28th, 2019)“I can’t be in love with a greaser!” Cyrus exclaimed dramatically, though in a hushed voice. “What am I supposed to do?” Buffy and Andi chuckled gently, none of them noticing TJ Kippen himself sitting in the booth behind them, trying desperately not to overhear their conversation for fear of eavesdropping.Of course, leave it to TJ Kippen to fail at not doing something. His ears managed to betray him and he caught most of the socs’ conversation.“…I just don’t understand why this is such a bad thing,” Andi said, confused.“Because, what would people say…might be interrogations…TJ’s house with torches and pitchforks…” Wait. That was him. They were talking about TJ. Why were they talking about TJ? He shrunk further into his seat, praying not to be seen.“…Well we could confiscate the torches…No, Cyrus, there aren’t any pitchfork emporiums in town… I mean he’s not my first choice for you but…I don’t hate him…I strongly dislike him?…Who Andi and I like has nothing to do with who you’re allowed to date…What could possibly be so bad about falling in love with TJ Kippen?”“Whoa,” TJ breathed to himself, near silently. He tried in vain to take a steadying sip of coffee, but ended up spilling it all over himself. “Shit! Serves me right for trying to drink coffee, ever.” He jumped up, effectively stealing the attention of the three in the booth behind him as he frantically wiped up the coffee all over the table. “TJ?” Cyrus, Buffy, and Andi asked at the same time, Buffy and Andi turning around to gawk over the back of the booth.“That’s me?” TJ said sheepishly.“How much of that did you hear, exactly?” Cyrus asked slowly, blushing furiously.“Oh, just bits and pieces.” TJ waved a hand dismissively.“So pretty much everything?” Cyrus asked.“Pretty much, yeah. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to.”“So…” Cyrus said nervously.“I, uh, I hear you’re confiscating torches on my behalf?”“Well, only if you actually go on a date with me,” Cyrus clarified, realizing far too late what he’d said. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean to say that, you don’t have to-”“Cyrus, take a deep breath, please. I’ll do you one better. Be my boyfriend?”“Really?” Cyrus asked in disbelief.“Yes, really. I’d love that.”“So would I.”

V.(February 28th, 2019)“We never decided what we’re doing for our first date,” Cyrus pointed out, walking out of the diner behind TJ, Buffy and Andi long gone, having said goodbye ten minutes ago.“I know,” TJ responded, slowing down so Cyrus could walk beside him, taking his boyfriend’s hand and intertwining their fingers. “God, today has been a whirlwind, hasn’t it?”“It really has,” Cyrus agreed, nodding. “I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend now.”“Neither can I, I mean…” he trailed off, noting Cyrus’ expression. “Hey, you okay?”“Yeah, I’m just… Nervous.”“About what?” TJ asked gently, turning to face Cyrus.“I don’t know, all of this,” he gestured vaguely. “Don’t get me wrong, I love that we’re together now!” he added in a rush. “But I’m nervous about telling people.”“I get it, Cy. You’re allowed to be nervous, I am too. This is scary.”“It is, isn’t it?” Cyrus asked, sighing.“Yeah, but we don’t have to think about that right now.” TJ said, shrugging as they turned onto Cyrus’s street.“We don’t?” Cyrus asked.“Nah, how about we talk about… What we’re doing on out first date?” TJ offered.“Much better. How about we-” Cyrus was cut off by TJ slipping on ice, tumbling into him and taking them both down.“Ah!” TJ shrieked, attempting, and failing spectacularly, to catch Cyrus.“…So. Cross ice skating off the list?” Cyrus asked after a moment of silence.“Ha, ha,” TJ replied drily. “…Yes please.”

+ I.(May 28th, 2019)TJ knocked gently on his boyfriend’s door, flowers in hand. After a moment, Cyrus’s mother opened the door, smiling cordially and saying a quick ‘it’s lovely to see you again’. She stepped aside after hugging TJ, allowing him into the house.“Cyrus will be down in just a minute,” she assured him with a smile.“Oh, okay. Did you repaint your living room? It looks great!”“Yes, we did! It was light purple before, now it’s light yellow.”“I like this better, it’s brighter,” TJ said with a polite smile.“Awe, thank you sweetie-”“Mom, are you talking his ear off about paint again?” Mrs. Goodman was interrupted by her son, coming down the stairs and reprimanding his mother.“Hey! He brought it up this time!” she defended, her hands in the air.“Good,” Cyrus said, satisfied.“Hey, Cy. You look great,” TJ greeted, handing Cyrus the flowers. “Happy three months!” Cyrus grinned, leaning forward to kiss his boyfriend, before stepping back to look him up and down.“Wow, you, uh, you look amazing, Teej,” he stammered, blushing. He attempted to rest against the wall behind him, but missed severely, tumbling to the ground with an indignant shriek.“Are you okay?” TJ asked worriedly, leaning forward to help his boyfriend off the carpet.“My ego’s a little bruised, but I’m alright,” Cyrus said sheepishly, accepting TJ’s hand gratefully.TJ nodded, reaching into his pocket.“Hang on,” he said, then pulled out a Band-Aid, presenting it to Cyrus triumphantly.“What? But I just told you I’m okay!”“No, it’s for your ego,” TJ explained.“You’re terrible, Grease,” Cyrus chuckled, accepting the Band-Aid. “I’m offended!”“Hush, you.” Cyrus kissed him warmly.“I see your ego’s okay, then?” TJ teased.“If I say yes, do I get to kiss you again?” Cyrus asked coyly.“I think that could be arranged,” TJ flirted, kissing him as demonstration.“I think my ego’s just fine.”

[prairiesongserial]

8.5

Friday had been obliged to buy Ueno lunch, seeing as Ueno had caught her in a scam and had oh so kindly not told anybody. And besides, it was Friday’s turn.

Friday had paid, and Ueno had led her around the corner of the nearest shop, out of the way, but still with a good view of the main street. The two of them ate those delicious looking poultry-apple hand pies, and Friday didn’t even try to keep the grease off her shirt. Her next stop would have to be to buy a new one, especially if she was going to run the same scam again.

“You look lost in thought,” Ueno said, delicately wiping each finger clean on a handkerchief.

“I’m thinking about how many shirts I can spoil in an afternoon before the local tailor becomes suspicious.” Friday didn’t have a handkerchief, and wiped her hands on the back of her shirt, grimacing.

“Probably just the one,” Ueno said, amused.

“Hm.” Friday stared down the street. Heat and smoke radiated off the vendors’ stalls. If anything, the byway had become more crowded with market-goers while she and Ueno ate. “Want to pull a con with me?”

Ueno raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, very much so.”

As much as Friday would have liked to believe that she and Val had stumbled upon the nicest, quaintest little town in the Midwest, things never turned out that way. In her experience, there was always something. A charismatic leader like Macomber pulling the strings. A gang tithing its “protection.” The waters might be still in Oklahoma City, for the time being, but where Friday was from, there was always a fast current just under the surface, waiting for you to let your guard down before it dragged you to the bottom.

It was the same everywhere. The worst part was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Ueno was in position. Friday was wearing a white linen shirt, purchased for 8 silver. By God, she was going to keep it clean. If she had known how expensive clothing was outside the big cities, she would have fleeced the man with the cow tail for much more.

Friday shoved her hands in her pockets, pretending to examine the wares of a basket weaver. She looked out of the corner of her eye for her mark. Someone wearing their purse on one shoulder, or holding it in their hand.

“How much is that one?” Friday asked the basket weaver. The basket she’d gestured to was small, something suited to gathering a clutch of eggs. She got her answer, but didn’t listen, still watching the street. A woman with kids walked by. Kids were built-in distractions, but also extra eyes. Friday kept waiting.

“Will you make change for me?” she asked. She only had six pieces of silver left, and this con would work better with more coins to keep track of.

“Sure,” the basket weaver sighed. “What have you got?”

Friday traded her silver coins for much less valuable nickel - and suddenly, six coins turned into eighteen. She held them in one palm, looking for all the world like an ordinary shopper considering a purchase.

There. Coming down the street with a coin purse (leather, no closure) over one shoulder was a woman with a clean hem, no fraying, and no other signs of wear on her clothes. Her hair was done up behind her head pristinely. Ueno had noticed her, too. She was moving, even before Friday had a chance to signal her, her face buried in Friday’s map.

Friday bit her lip and shook her head over the baskets.

“You know, I really shouldn’t - perhaps another day.”

She took a blind step backward, crashing hard into the woman with the updo. Friday reached out to the woman as she pretended to lose her balance, pulling the leather purse off her shoulder and spilling its contents onto the ground, just as her own handful of nickel coins showered onto the woman’s shoes.

“My God, I’m so terribly sorry,” Friday exclaimed as she and the woman both bent down to pick up and sort out the mess of coins spread across the walkway.

That was Ueno’s cue. She hurried up, map in hand.

“Let me help,” she said, picking up coins with the same hand that held the map, obscuring the field of coins with every pass-over of her hand. “I’m Ueno, by the way, I’m just passing through town. You live here, don’t you?”

“Uh...yes,” the woman said.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Ueno said, depositing a couple nickel coins into the woman’s purse while Friday palmed the silver ones. “I was confused by the map, see, I’m meant to be starting work as a housekeeper today, only I can’t find the house, and I can’t remember the family’s name, only that they’re in between two orchards, and south of the miller, and I was supposed to take the second left off Main Street, and then a right, but I’ve done that, and it seems I’m all mixed up.”

Ueno’s directions were made up, of course, and completely unsolvable, as such a house didn’t exist. But the woman furrowed her brow, caught up in the puzzle.

“Well, the second left off Main Street, that would be…”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Friday said, palming the last of the silver coins. “But I think I’m shy a few coins.”

“Oh, dear, I haven’t been paying attention. You dropped all those nickel coins, didn’t you?”

Friday held out nine nickel coins in the palm of her hand. “I know I had eighteen to start with. The basket weaver just made the change for me, if you’d like to ask him.”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” the woman said. “You have nine, you said...Oh, here they are. They ended up in my purse, I’m terribly sorry.”

“My mistake,” Ueno said. “I didn’t realize…”

The woman dropped nine nickel coins out of her own purse into Friday’s hand.

“There you are, then. And Nicodemus’s baskets are really lovely, you couldn’t have chosen better.” The woman rose to her feet. “But do watch where you’re going?”

Friday smiled sheepishly at her, giving her a friendly wave of the hand as she carried on down the street. Ueno handed her map back to her.

“How much lighter is her purse?” Ueno asked.

Friday started to walk, Ueno by her side.

“Well, if you add up all the silver in my sleeves and shoes, I’d say about five gallons of gasoline lighter.” She gave Ueno a wolfish smile. “Though of course some of that is yours.”

“No, you keep it.”

Ueno slipped something out of her own sleeve - a delicate gold chain, so fine you could barely see it. There was a little blue stone in it - tiny, but so well-crafted that Friday at once knew it was Old World. That made it incredibly valuable - the woman she’d bumped into had been flush with money, the soft jangle of silver in Friday’s sleeves was a testament to that - but jewelry like this was a step above.

“Jesus, was she the fuckin’ mayor?” Friday hissed, turning back to see if she could get another glimpse of the woman. But she was long gone.

“Just lucky, I’d guess,” Ueno mused, dangling the necklace in the air. “Ordinary people still have these things. They can’t sell them because no one can afford to buy them for what they’re worth.  But they make a pretty trinket.”

Suddenly, Friday felt skin-temperature metal against her neck. Ueno was holding the necklace up to her skin.

“It’s a good color for you. Brings out your eyes.”

Friday’s eyes widened. But just as suddenly, the necklace disappeared.

“I think I’ll keep this trinket, though,” Ueno said, pocketing it.

“Ha,” Friday said, hiding the nervous bob of her throat.

She didn’t have time to formulate any sort of clever reply before she was stopped short in the street by a woman her own height - unusual, as Friday was on the short side - staring her down.

“Good afternoon,” the woman said brusquely. She had bags under her eyes, and her hair was cut short, but unevenly, her bangs a little too high up her forehead. “My name is June Emilia Fields, and I am the schoolteacher here in Oklahoma City. I don’t recognize either of you, so you must be new.”

Hardly taking a breath, June Emilia Fields continued. “I’m leading a discussion on the subsumption of, frankly, dangerously incorrect so-called scientific information into our town’s folklore. We’ll be going over how it happened, what we can do now to correct certain town misconceptions about certain local myths, and of course we’ll be discussing the science of how I came to my conclusions, plus the possible future consequences for just carrying on in the way we have been.”

June Emilia Fields then produced a piece of paper from the bag slung over her shoulder, which Friday found herself accepting.

“The details are on the flyer,” she said. “The meeting starts at seven at town hall. Leave your preconceived notions at the door.”

June Emilia Fields stalked past them, leaving Friday and Ueno with the flyer. It was difficult for Friday to read, since it was written with lowercase letters. She folded it up without trying to parse it - at least not in front of Ueno.

“What the hell was that?” Ueno said with an amused smile.

“For a second I thought we’d been caught,” Friday laughed. The stiffness in her shoulders gave way to relief.

She watched June Emilia Fields stop each person in the market - at least those who weren’t fast enough to escape - and force a flyer into their hands.

“Oh, no,” Ueno said, archly. “I don’t get caught.”

8.4 || 8.6

[myuun]

do you live in nz? is it better than usa?

I do live in New Zealand! 

HMM… In some ways? I haven’t been to many parts of the US, I mostly stuck to the Southern states and have been to just the general touristy states like New York and California… but even then I haven’t seen all that much and I was a teenager and I really… can’t remember perfectly anymore… ;v; oh my god, I really can’t, I’M SO OLD NOW.

I have also not explored a lot of New Zealand, just Wellington (I live here!) and the nearby towns. 

My perspective comes from being raised on a small city in Mexico and studying in a small city in Texas, so I’ll go from there. 

I’ll go from the cons, cause that’s funner! 

CONS OF NEW ZEALAND:

- EXPENSIVE. Expensive. Expensive. If you come with American Dollars you gain more NZ dollars which is great. But the country is damn expensive. I’m used to my groceries for two people go to the hundreds per week. EASILY. Buzzfeed, save your words, I can’t save money on many things. Some things I can (which I’ll talk about in a bit). 

- You pay rent per week. Welcome to hell. Also, getting an apartment is the hardest thing you’ll ever manage to do. Don’t even talk to me about finding a job, even a temporary one. 

- Biggest bummer: NEVER ENOUGH JUNK FUCKING FOOD. NEW ZEALAND HAS THE STOMACH OF AN 80 YEAR OLD. Cheetos? Nope. Rice Krispies? NAH. VARIETY OF CEREALS? NO UNLESS YOU LOVE NUTS AND GRAINS. I have such cravings for shitty food. I miss simple, beautiful greasy food. POUR ME A BOWL OF PANDA EXPRESS ORANGE SHRIMP. Everyday I dream about Chick-fil-a and I weep. This country has things similar… but everything here is very healthy… too healthy. Which I guess its good, but when you are raised on grease, you miss it ya’ll. 

- It can get boring depending on where you are. New Zealand pretty much closes shop… early. In small towns, malls are closed by 5:30PM (a shocking discovery!). Most restaurants, if they serve at night, they close by… 9-10PM. It is shocking if something is open after that, and it is most likely a bar. We are pretty much in by 6PM and if we are out… we are definitely running late or its a blue moon. 

- EARTHQUAKES. This needs no explanation. I hate earthquakes. PETRIFIED. And I live on the top floor and it feels HORRIBLE. No thanks.

- No matter where you go you’ll hit water. My husband loves that we are on an island… I… feel uncomfortable? It’s a small country, we could sink easily if a tsunami hit. This is a bit half and half, it depends on who you talk to. For me, I… I’m not that big into islands. I like land.

- It’s a small country. Again, this depends on who you ask. Some people love it. I personally like it… to an extent. Im at the bottom of the north island and you can get to the top of it within 8 hours. That is… insane. That is HALF THE COUNTRY DOWN. It’s TINY.

- It’s small, so fashion, food, games, fads… all come later for us. So anything trending in the US… we know about it. But we cannot get it until a year later. It’s a cute joke that NZ is always ten years behind.

- The hole in the ozone is right about New Zealand, so you CAN get sunburned on cloudy days. It has happened to me, I swear. There is a SPECIFIC sunscreen made here by the cancer society because skin cancer is so prominent. Wear sunscreen! Fun fact: sun screen is also expensive. 

- It’s an island… and yet fish is expensive as HELL. ????!?!??? wh???!whw??? seafood restaurants? what??? who??? for the rich??? same with milk btw

- Lack of true racial understanding. This is a personal one, which I’ll elaborate on. There are SO MANY FOREIGNERS HERE. So many. But white people are the majority. So a lot of white people… have really strong stereotypes about people of color. I, personally, had never seen such incredible diversity before of religion, race, and nationality so to me, it’s amazing how much I learn, but… its a bit cringy as well how a lot of New Zealanders (especially older ones) are… quite… racist… Then again, this happens everywhere. I just thought with such a colorful variation of population… it would be more… open. And it is! But… ya know… YA KNOW.

- People don’t say bless you when you sneeze. ok I know its a small thing but it BOTHERS ME. 

- People pretty much dress the same… almost… the same. 90s style hipsters.

- So much hipster. 

- HILLS. SO MANY UPHILLS. SO MUCH… WALKING. if you’re into climbing, and foresty, and biking this is the country for you. But I’m not. 

PROS OF NEW ZEALAND:

- No matter where you go, it will always… always be stunning. I have a bit of a mocking attitude when people go to “scenic spots” because I feel it’s a waste of time? Personally… THE ENTIRETY of the country is a giant scenic view. No matter where you look, it’s absolutely beautiful. I look out my window and it faces another building and yet the sky and the trees are gorgeous. 

- The air is so fresh, that it cleared my skin. This is a no-joke, my skin actually got better when I lived here for a month and then went back to Mexico, and it burst into pimples. It’s so fresh here and almost NEVER humid. Sometimes, but its tolerable. 

- There is little, to no danger. We can walk at midnight in fling flang wherever and the likelyhood of me getting robbed is pretty minimal. It HAPPENS but it’s so so so rare. The newspaper writes about your neighbor’s tomato farm (seriously). Not… murders. 

- Animal care and respect is SO MUCH HIGHER here. As a huuuge animal advocate that lives for her animal shelter, the love and outpour people give their pets is amazing. It’s INCREDIBLY RARE.. AND I MEAN… RARE. To see a stray dog. In fact, mark my words, I’ve never seen a single stray dog. Maybe a stray cat, but cats are outdoors here a lot, so probably not. THIS DOES NOT MEAN THERE ISN’T ANIMAL ABUSE. There certainly are. But not as rampant as in the US or Mexico.

- It’s rare to eat bad food. I will honestly say in the three years of me living here… I’ve had shitty food… four times? five? And every other time… its been amazing. Idk what it is. It’s always… worth every penny. So I can tell you, when it’s bad… ITS BAD. It’s hard though, you really can’t fuck up here (well, at least Wellington).

- People are so… so nice. I think nice people are everywhere, but New Zealand is especially nice. SO NICE. 

- The diversity is amazing. I’ve never seen such a colorful city.

- RECYCLING AND KEEP NEW ZEALAND GREEN. It really has encouraged me to be more thoughtful and resourceful and soon I hope my lazy ass can fucking… whats it called… compost.

- Everything is very close by which can be very convenient. It’s a small country, so we are close-knit. 

- OUR PRIME MINISTEERRR. She is as lovely in person (my husband and I are lucky to have a selfie with her) as she is on TV.

- Tons of events, tons of artsy fartsy stuff, so many things to see. New Zealand encourages so much togetherness in their community so tons of events are honestly done by the entirety of the country. Festivals, community services, art stuff… Markets are AMAZIIING. 

- If you’re into health, gyms are cheap and walking is even cheaper. We walk… everywhere and everywhere is close by.

- Bus system is fucky, but certainly very useable. It’s all we take and it gets you everywhere. 

There is SO MUCH MORE IM SURE, but I’m about to have dinner and I can’t think of anymore. ;v; But I hope this answers your question. 

Overall, I do love New Zealand, but there are tons of things I miss about the US… mostly just the food… and all the food. And my family. It’s weird being in a country that is really far away from the world. It feels a bit isolating at times, but the kindness and community shown in New Zealand is fantastic, and I really love this country a lot. ;v; Please if someone here is close to the Chick-fil-a CEO, I’ll donate to have one open in Wellington. We just got Krispy Kreme… in one airport in Auckland.

Someone please sir… a bag of donuts and chick-fil-a waffle fries…

waffle fries i miss you

I don’t think New Zealand is necessarily better than the US because the US has such variety because of all the states and people and natural beauty, but I will say... politics wise, I do think we have a SLIGHT UPPER HAND THERE, SON.