#having to walk past that twice on my way to and from the trash compactor was really cool. man speaking of the trash compactor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brianamorganbooks · 5 years ago

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The reek of mothballs and disinfectant almost knocks me over. Wood paneling lines the walls. It’s not a big dorm. Just enough space between the twin beds to prevent awkward touching in the night, twin dressers and desks that have seen better days, and a gray-brown carpet. Beside the door, sitting on a patch of linoleum, is a sink with a tiny mirror. Still, the room looks clean, and the big window lets in more light than I expected.

I slide the strap of my guitar case off my shoulder, set the guitar on the bed, and walk to the window. Livingston Academy is sprawling. I doubt I’ll ever find my way around–even my residence hall is massive. Though there’s still a day before classes start, the lawn outside my dorm, Meyer Hall, ripples with activity. A few girls sit on the stone steps leading to the front doors. Others lean against the wrought-iron fencing or the building’s brick exterior, make small talk by the rose bushes, and stretch out on the browning grass.

A pang of yearning knifes my chest. I turn away.

I don’t have friends. All I have are my parents—barely. And once they go home, I won’t have anyone.

“Where do you want to start with these?” Dad asks.

I turn. He and Mom are standing in the doorway with several boxes at their feet. I didn’t hear them come up.

I shrug.

Mom chooses a box without my input. Dad cuts the tape and unloads my stuff. They chat like I’m not here, discussing my class schedule.

Nathan would never ignore me like this.

But Nathan’s why I’m at Livingston.

My parents are already starting on the second box. I feel so overwhelmed, like I’m trapped inside a trash compactor along with last night’s leftovers. Cold sweat beads on my forehead. If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to lose it.

“I’ll be right back.” I head out in search of somewhere quiet. Anywhere but here.

A bathroom calls from the end of the hall. When I walk in, it’s another empty room. Humid air clogs my nose and mouth. Standard bathroom stalls line one wall; sinks and mirrors on the other. Shower stalls are tucked away in the back, marked by pastel-pink curtains. I head for the stall in the middle of the bathroom.

Behind me, someone coughs.

I let go of the stall door and spin around. A pale girl with long, red hair and fierce green eyes stands in a sundress, staring. In one hand, she holds an empty beer bottle with flowers sticking out of the mouth and liquid sloshing inside. I can’t see what’s in her other hand, curled into a fist.

She catches me staring and hides the bottle behind her back. “Excuse me.”

“I…”

“That bathroom stall,” she says. “It’s mine.”

I turn back to the stall. It doesn’t look special. My brow furrows. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Holy Hecate.” She rolls her eyes brushes past me, shoulder smashing into mine. Her fingers curl around the handle of the door. I barely jump out of the way before she slams it shut.

I’m still standing, shocked, when a black girl with big, round glasses and even bigger hair enters the bathroom. She peers at me over the top of her glasses as she checks her hair in the mirror.

“Thought that was you for a moment, Charlie,” she says, voice tinged with an English accent.

“What? She looks nothing like me,” Stall Bitch—Charlie—answers from atop her porcelain throne.

She’s right. We’re both white, but my eyes are blue to Charlie’s green, my hair is dull brown unlike her scarlet locks, and my mouth is heart-shaped, while hers is more of a pout. I think Charlie has freckles too, but I didn’t get a good look.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. Being scrutinized by other teenage girls is nothing new, but I feel exposed. It’s all I can do not to pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and hide my face as English Girl looks at me.

“Pretty,” English Girl says. “How about it? Are you new?”

“Transfer student,” I say.

Charlie’s voice floats out of the stall again. “Would’ve pegged you as a freshman.”

“Sorry, I’m a junior.” I don’t know why I’m apologizing. “I’m sixteen.”

Charlie starts muttering something to herself, but I can’t make out what she’s saying.

English Girl walks to the stall, eyeing me as she passes. She raps twice on the door. “What are you doing in there?”

Rude question, considering we’re in a bathroom. But Charlie’s reply is quick and breezy. “I told you earlier, setting the charm.”

Setting the charm? What is she talking about?

“Gods alive,” English Girl replies. “You don’t need it. Eddie’s head over heels.”

“You don’t know him like I do, and I like certainty.”

I still have no clue what they’re talking about. Maybe I should leave.

“Ouch,” Charlie says.

“Don’t do too much.” English Girl returns her focus to me. “I’m Billie. Didn’t catch your name.”

“Rose. Nice to meet you.”

“Brilliant.” Billie readjusts her glasses and fiddles with the door, like she can unlock it. “Let me in. I can help you.”

“Another potion? No thanks.”

Potion? I must have misheard. That can’t be what she said.

“You keep trying the same spell, you’re just going to hurt yourself more,” Billie says.

Spell? Come on. These girls have lost it. I need to get out of here. Besides, they won’t miss me. They’re friends, and close ones, by the looks of it.

I feel another pang. I press a hand to my chest to stifle it, but it doesn’t work.

I pee in a hurry, wash my hands, and go back to my dorm room. Laughter echoes down the hall and prickles the back of my neck. They’re not laughing at me. Probably.

The door to my room is still open. I stare at the gold placards on the wall beside it: MASTERS, C. & E. I guess they haven’t had time to switch one of those names for mine.

My parents are right where I left them.

I stand there for a moment, watching, more out of place with my parents than I was in the bathroom with those strange girls. I walk in and wander over to my guitar, slipping it out of the case. My fingertips brush the strings.

Mom pulls a pillow from a box. “Everything all right?”

No. “It’s fine,” I answer.

“Thought we heard girls in the hall,” Dad says. “Did you meet them?”

I chew the inside of my cheek. Please, anything but this. Anything but my parents pretending this is normal. Pretending this is a regular school transfer.

“A few,” I say.

Mom sets the pillow on my bed and props a hand on her hip. “Open up a little if you want to make friends, Rose. Not everyone is out to get you.”

What happened between me and Nathan is splashed in red paint all over the walls. My dirty little secret won’t be a secret for long. The media never released my name, but it wouldn’t be hard to put it together. It’s spelled out in my permanent record.

I cross my arms. “Are the boxes done?”

“Nearly, no thanks to you.” Dad smiles, but the jab still lands. I know he doesn’t mean it like it sounds. Neither of them ever does. “It’s normal to be nervous. You’re in a new place, and you’ll be making new friends. You’ll be fine.”

“It won’t be like last year,” Mom assures me.

Dad shoves his hands in his pockets. “That man—”

Mom glares at him.

“I mean, well… yeah. Not many men around here. You’ll be all right.”

I want to believe them. But in their eyes, what happened last year was entirely one-sided. They don’t know I loved him.

Still, maybe they have a point. In a school full of girls, where even most the teachers are women, how can I be tempted?

Mom crosses to hug me. “We’ll make this quick. You know how your father gets.”

Behind her, Dad sniffs. When Mom steps back, he moves in. His tears wet my cheek. “Be good now, all right?”

I turn away to wipe my face and give Dad some privacy. Maybe they’re worried about sending me somewhere they can’t keep tabs on me as easily, but maybe they should have thought of that before shipping me off to Livingston.

When he turns again, his eyes are bright and hopeful. I haven’t seen that look on his face in a while.

“Call us,” Mom says.

“I will.”

“You promise?”

I grab Mom’s purse from the bed and hand it to her. “Not like it’s forever. You’ll see me in November. Thanksgiving, okay?”

“Promise?” Mom echoes.

“Yes, Mom. I’ll call you.”

No one says anything else. My parents look me over and walk out of the room. The door clicks shut.

I sit on the edge of my bed and push my guitar away. My roommate’s unmade bed sits across from me. The blankets are all over the place. One poster hangs on the wall behind her bed—something by Monet—but I don’t see a single suitcase, and the closet rack is empty.

If she has the same room as she did last year, where is all her stuff?

We still have a whole day before classes start. Maybe her parents are coming tomorrow.

I flop onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Wood stares back. One stray match and this school would burn down in a second.

I’m almost asleep when keys jangle in the lock. I sit bolt upright as the door swings open.

“Shit,” Charlie says.

I think back to the placard. MASTERS, C. Her last name must be Masters.

“You’re my roommate?” I reply.

“Why else would I have the keys to this room?” She pushes the door shut and puts her hands on her hips. The light streaming through the window is kinder to her face than the lights in the bathroom. She has freckles like me, much more prominent on her paler skin. But there’s a fresh cut on her cheek. It must have happened in the bathroom.

“Your face,” I say. “It’s bleeding.”

“I know,” she says. “Guess I missed your parents. They coming back?”

“No.”

“Bummer.” She doesn’t sound bummed. She doesn’t even sound the least bit interested in me. Instead, she leans over the sink and reapplies her crimson lipstick in the mirror.

“What happened to your sister?” I ask. “Did she graduate last year?”

Charlie’s application falters, the point of the lipstick freezing at the corner of her mouth. She doesn’t turn, but her eyes in the mirror meet mine. Then, they narrow.

“Masters, C. and E.,” I say, lifting a hand lamely to point at the door. “Same last name. I thought—”

“Forget it.” Charlie goes back to putting on the lipstick. She frowns at her reflection, mutters something under her breath, and washes her hands. “Don’t drink this water. Old pipes.”

“Thank you.” My face must be crimson. “Um, your cut…”

“It’ll stop.” Charlie shrugs, grabs her designer purse from the floor, and heads out of the room. I glimpse something by the sink and walk over to investigate. It’s a small vial of blue liquid—and it glitters in the light.

I pick it up and run my fingers over its smooth surface. Something shifts and shimmers inside the liquid, like a fog trapped in a mirror. The swirling mist reflects my image back at me.

I shriek and drop the vial. It shatters on the linoleum. Shit, now I’m screwed. What do I do?

The liquid burns through the linoleum and I wonder who—or what—these girls really are.

tag list (let me know if you’d like to me removed/added): @lady-redshield-writes @smokescreens-n-otherillusions @cogwrites @nicholewrites @fireflys-locket

Read chapter two here!

#writeblr #writerblr #my writing #livingston girls #wip excerpt

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erintoknow · 5 years ago

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Hurry Home

fallen hero: rebirth fan fiction with Crow and Argent ~2.2k words [ao3]

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2 AM in Los Diablos isn’t much different from 6 PM. The haze of streetlights defused into the smog taints the black in sickly yellows, reds, and greens. Crow pulls his arms tight against himself as he wanders down the street. No particular destination in mind. Sail the ship, onward ‘till morning. Normally this is Morrígan’s time to shine. It just makes more sense that way, a witch for the witching hour, when all the specters peer out from underneath their tombstones.

Not tonight, not for a while. Morrígan needs to rest still. Dr. Mortum did a good job keeping the girl out of harm’s way but when you’re dealing with criminals you can’t afford even the pretension of weakness. Morrígan can take it easy until the worst of the bruising fades. She deserves it.

Not like Badb Catha– not like you. Keep your guard up, feelers out. Walking alone, at night, in the closest thing that passes for dark in this sad excuse for a city. There’s a man across the street, that’s been walking the same direction you’ve been for a whole block now. Telepathy assures he doesn’t think of you at all. But–

Sometimes you wonder if you’re suffering bleed-over from Morrígan. She may not have telepathy but she’s always taking count of everyone in sight-range. Assessing probable threats as best she can without the benefit of your talent. But the details that rank her concern… Some part of you, or of her-in-you is screaming the man is a threat. That you should speed up, detour away from him.

But– Crow is a man. Decently tall, more in shape everyday, with his telepathy, Crow shouldn’t have anything to fear from a scrawny twig of a dude. What’s he going to do? Pull a gun on you? Worst case Crow can just reach into the empty head and crush it down like a trash compactor. It wouldn’t even be hard. No training, no discipline–

“Spare a buck, lady?”

A hand on your shoulder pulls you off balance, yanking you sideways towards an alley between buildings. Trained reflex takes over, snapping the offending hand away as you step back and fall into a defensive stance. Adrenaline pumping, mind on full alert and– you squint through the gloom at the unshaven man standing were your telepathy insists there’s nothing and nobody. Strain harder, and catch the faint pop of static.

The man raises both hands up and backs away, back into the shadow. Static or no, how did you miss him? “Woah, easy there.”

“I’m no fuckin’ lady, hey?” Crow spits, narrowing his eyes in contempt. The nerve. The very idea. This guy would piss his pants if he knew he was talking to Macha. She’d bring an armored fist down and crush his head like a ripe grape.

“Yeah, I can uh, I can see that.” The mean looks down on Crow, mouth twitching down at the edges. He shakes his hand and before sliding it into the front pocket of his sweater. “Just looking for help, anything you can spare.”

“Bullshit.” Crow doesn’t relax, little alarm bells ringing in the back of his awareness at least two more minds nearby who are entirely too interested in what’s happening right now. Future trouble? With this guy? Separate? To early to tell. He’s the most dangerous. “How many beggars keep guns in their sweater vests, dumbass?”

The man’s face is full-on frown now. “No need for that, my man.” He’s taller than Crow, not a lot, but enough. How firm is his grip? How quick can he aim? Whatever’s about to happen, Crow should be fine. This guy is nothing that hasn’t been pasted countless times before. It’s just an open question on if Morrígan will need to go fishing for bullets this time.

Crow would, admittedly, prefer that not to be necessary.

“So you feeling charitable tonight?”

Crow rolls his eyes. “You’re not too bright, are ya?” It’s too late in the night for this game. There are places to aimlessly wander, there’s no time to pretend to be held up by a two-bit crook that can’t find the right end of a razor.

Crow snaps to the side, out of the estimated field of fire of whatever gun the man must be holding in his pocket. The sudden movement gets him by surprise. This isn’t part of the script. Yeah, will neither is yanking his arm back 90 degrees in the wrong direction until it makes a gross-ass popping noise. The would-be assailant screams and drops to the ground, a pistol falling out of his hand and scattering into the dark. A revolver? Doesn’t matter, not a factor now.

Kick the body in the stomach, and he groans. “Fuckin’ idiot.” Crow mutters, shaking his head. Well, they can’t all be Ortega. “Maybe think twice next time ya amadán, ya idiota, ya–”

A crack rings out off the walls and at the same time fire blooms in your leg below the knee. Shot? You’ve been shot? No grazed. Skinsuit under your clothes held up. This time anyway. Gonna be a hell of a bruise. Twist, keep yourself on your feet, feel for who– one of the two you noted as too interested earlier. She’s moving towards, you pissed mad. You fling up your arms, can’t risk another shot. Not until she’s in punching range. Damn your leg. Fuck.

“Get away from him!” She’s on full alert, pistol pointed at you, finger on the trigger. Hands aren’t steady. How much training has she had? “I said get the fuck away from him!”

You keep your hands up, take an agonizing shuffle back. Fight the urge to push up your glasses. “Ya know, back-up don’t mean shit if your on the other end of the block, right?” Reach in there, mind like razor blades. Can you shut it down before she pulls the trigger? Too tense.

Would the skinsuit hold up? What make is that pistol? You can’t tell in the gloom. She doesn’t know either. Charming. Idiots. Fools. Both of them. Siblings? Cute. ‘Bro’ wanted to try the nice way. Sis’ here knows the real score.

Find the floor, something to smash and bring her down quick.

“–I said empty your fucking pockets!” She jabs the gun in your direction. So much for protecting family. Can’t forget the crime, can we sweetheart?

“Can– can I put my arms down, hey?” Stall for time while you reach in there. This has to be subtle-like or the shock might get her to pull the trigger regardless.

She glares down the sight at you. If she did shoot, could you get Morrígan here in time? Would Morrígan even know where ‘here’ is? You slowly lower one arm. Don’t think about the gun. Pull one pocket inside out. Of course. You weren’t intending to go wandering. Not prepared. Think if you come clean about not having any money on you, the three of you can laugh this off as a hilarious misunderstanding?

No?

Think of another plan then.

Or, consider this: The beat of footsteps and something now way too familiar on the periphery pulls your attention upwards.

As she twirls through the air the phosphor light gets caught in her hair. A tangled mess of reflections, caught however many times before bouncing free? She brings her arm forward, down, pulled in on gravity’s tether and– oh, wait, shit, fuck–

Your leg screams in protest as you dive to the side just in time for Lady Argent to bisect the air between you and ‘Big Sis.’ A shot echoes off the walls blasting your eardrums and you have to clutch at your ears. “Fuckin’ hell! Are you trying to kill me?”

Argent turns to you, looking none the worse the wear for having dropped from the roof of a three story building. She shakes out her arm like an etch-a-sketch as she takes in the scene. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Holy fuck,” Sis is backing away from the scene, eyes darting between you and Lady Argent.

Argent watches the woman from the corner of her eye. “Street muggers? Not much of a challenge.”

“I had it handled.” You hiss. Now that you’re on the ground the idea of getting up and putting wait on your leg seems impossible. “Had them eating out of my hand.”

Argent tilts her head, looking down at you, paying absolutely no mind to the woman who had just shot at her. “Is that what the bullet hole is for, Catha?”

“Nah, just a graze, hey? Look, it’ll be fine.”

“Your bleeding.” Argent stresses the word. Why does she care? She doesn’t seem to know either. “You’ve been shot Crow.”

“Well, look.” You wince as you pull yourself into a sitting position. “Ya gonna arrest the bitch that did it, hey?”

That gets Argent to shift her focus to the sister, stepping over the still prone body of the first guy. You don’t think he’s actually out of it, if all the internal screaming you’re picking up means anything. Just as good, you guess.

Argent takes another step forward. The woman drops the gun to her side and books it. So much for family loyalty. You let her drop out of your awareness, her panic is putting you a little too on edge. You’ve got plenty of your own reasons to panic. Such as: Lady Argent wants to chase after the woman, but instead she turns to face you. She’s not impressed.

That’s fair, you concede. You aren’t impressed by you either.

“You need help.” It’s supposed to be a question, but coming out of her mouth it feels like a statement of fact.

You bark back a laugh. Wince as touch your injured leg. You still haven’t actually looked at. It’s not necessary. “You offering a piggyback ride Starshine?”

Her eyes narrow as she stares down at you. “Fuck off.” She tenses, fingers flexing. She wants to move in, can’t make up her mind. “I meant an ambulance.”

You shake your head. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Unlike like some people present, I’ve got bills to pay.” You grit your teeth. The pain a dull throb. As soon as you get back you’ll have to have Morrígan look at it. It’s just bruising, you’re sure. “What are you doing here anyway, hey?”

Argent shifts her stance, mouth wrenched in a tight frown. “What do you think I’m doing Crow, I’m on patrol.” You watch her facial expression, body language. There’s more to it then that, you’re sure. But what, exactly you can’t place. “What are you doing out here.”

You cross your arms. “It’s a free country Starshine.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

“My statement is not any less true on accountin’ of the hour.” You shift your position, grit your teeth as you try to get up. “Ah– fuck!” Argent’s hand grabs your arm before you can fall back down. She pulls you to feet with a disturbing ease.

“You need to see a doctor.” She doesn’t let go of your arm.

You scrunch up your face, stare down at the asphalt. “Don’t you have a mugger to chase down?”

“Small fry like that don’t matter.”

“That so…” You take a breath, try to keep your hands from forming fists. “And I do now?” Why won’t she let go?

“I’ll never…” There’s a hesitation in her voice. That’s hardly like the Argent you know. “Ortega will give me hell if I just let you walk off like that.”

Enough is enough. you tug at your arm. She lets go. “What does Julia fucking care?”

Argent doesn’t mince words. “She’s still in love with you.”

Something in your chest twists, you rub at your eyes with one hand, push your glasses back up. “Well, hey, tell her she’s seven years too fucking late for that revelation.” You pull back from her mind, in on yourself. You don’t want to know. Focus on the pain. The pain in your leg. It’s just a dull throb now but that’s real. Your leg is real. Not like her, or this city, or the rest of you.

“Tell her yourself Crow. I’m not your go between.” She stands still. Doesn’t move after you as you hold yourself up against the wall.

“Then don’t act like one, hey?” You push off the wall. Test your leg, hurts like a motherfuck but you can do this. It’ll be a long walk, but you’ve done worse. Maybe you’ll jack a car from somewhere to cut down the distance. Or just a taxi?

Argent steps after you, grabs your arm again when you stagger. “If you’re not going to the hospital, then where are going?”

“Where do you think, Starshine?” You snarl, “Fucking home, hey?” She’s close. Too close. Just a skinsuit under clothes can’t protect you. Why is she pretending to care? Does she know? Is this pretense for revenge?

“And where’s home for you, Crow?” You glance up at her, she’s not looking at you. Scanning the area. Empty street. Dogs barking in the distance.

Fuck it. Whatever. If she murders you in your sleep, you can’t say you didn’t have it coming.

You gesture to the left, down the street. “This way. Bit of a walk. Think you can handle it?”

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero #fhr #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr/Crow #mc #lady argent

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rwbyremnants · 6 years ago

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WARNING: More Bumbleby in this chapter. Drug use, truth or dare, striptease

NOTE: Yeah, I'm sorry about this cliffhanger, on top of taking so long to get this chapter posted. Mod has had some hard times lately. No details... don't worry about it. Just too much going on in my head. But I'm going to try not to let that happen again until this whole fic is posted - and trust me, there are a looooooooooot of chapters left.

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=Chapter 23

The rest of the evening was spent with Blake's 'very important Breakup Supplies'. More weed, a tub of ice cream, a delivered pizza with all the toppings and a cheesy comedy flick. Both of them had spent it huddled on the sofa, with no further comments or moves made since their hazy kiss. It was enough to bring Yang out of her sobbing state before she eventually left Blake's company and retired to the spare bedroom, and slept away the rest of her high on the sofa.

And she was still fast asleep when there was a knock on the front door the next afternoon. Sun had just gotten off a shift after a big wiring job, and had already agreed to head over to Blake's for his weekend off. Blake had told him Yang would be there for a few weeks, perhaps even a month or two, so he had brought a few things in his bag in an attempt to cheer her up. A few older generation game consoles and lots of snacks. But he didn't expect that the two of them would have had some of their own herbal remedies.

"Sorry," Blake hissed apologetically as he glanced between her and all the empty pizza boxes, ice cream cartons and scattered beer bottles. "She's just… in really bad shape. I'm blowing through my whole stash twice as fast as usual trying to keep her from getting depressed again."

"Y'know weed isn't the solution to everything, right?" He sighed again at the amount of trash in the living room. But right away went to help clear things away, starting on picking up the bottles one by one and loading them into his hands. Curiosity was having him wonder how many were Yang's and how many were his girlfriend's. "I mean it's fun, yeah, but are you sure this is a good idea for her right now?"

"It's the only idea. Letting her stew and sulk isn't going to get her anywhere." When Sun didn't seem mollified by such a viewpoint, she rolled her eyes and added, "Can you honestly say that's good for her? You didn't see her when she got here, man… she was in bad shape. Really rough. It was either that or drive her straight to Six Flags, and I didn't already have tickets for that in my 'box of magic tricks'."

Shaking his head and looking toward the number of bottles that remained, even when he was holding six, he laughed, "Blake, booze, weed, even roller coasters are just distractions. Stuff like this, you gotta let yourself be sad before you can be happy again. Cause essentially, it's grieving, y'know? She lost something really huge – a part of herself."

The bleak look in her eyes bordered on haunted. "I… I know. But she's not ready to face the whole thing head-on yet. I'll keep an eye out, make sure she doesn't go overboard. Don't you think I'm talking to her here and there, as well?"

"Well yeah, of course. But I just think she needs conversation more than a hit." He shrugged his shoulders, gathering the rest of the bottles all in one plastic bag to dump them. "But then again, you know her best, I guess. I mean, you’ve got a past, and you've seen her at her lowest."

"Yeah… yeah, I have. And this is the worst she's been since she was first transitioning. She's a fucking wreck, Sun. This thing with her would-have-been sister-in-law… I don't know. That bitch really found all her weak spots and exploited them just right – and I could throw her into a trash compactor for that. She might never bounce back from it completely."

"Maybe not for a while… but as long as we keep an eye out, make sure she knows she has friends, she'll be fine. There isn't a risk she'd try to… you know what, is there?"

That brought Blake to a standstill. Eyes wide, she walked straight up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "If that happens… you know what? No. That's not happening, period. I just got her back in my life, and there's no way I'm going to fail her as a friend. Not twice in one lifetime."

Then she turned to stomp upstairs and wake said friend from her weed-induced slumber.

Yang was figuratively dead to the world. In a half asleep, half-awake stage, fully sprawled out over the makeshift bed, even with an arm and a leg hanging over the side, she continued to snore peacefully. And she had no plans to stop herself to get up, just lay and sleep for a few more hours. But that wish was about to be interrupted …

"Rise and shine, sleepy head," Blake called through the door. At first. She wanted to start out gentle and work her way up to loud eventually; it wouldn't do to be overly mean to the poor girl after the few rough days she'd been having.

From the other side the door a low toned whining could be heard in exchange, followed by the obvious sounds of her rolling over as she strained her voice.

"Five more… hours."

"Nooo, not five more hours. Now!" Silence. "Come on… don't make me come in there!"

Groaning yet again, Yang only covered her face with the bedsheets. Even if she wasn't stoned any longer, she was at least too tired and slightly hung over to care about anything anymore. Far too tired to be concerned that her upper half was naked, and Blake was about to come in and see it.

There was a pronounced sigh from behind the door. Then the knob rattled and it swung open. "Okay, dude, I know this isn't the high point of your life, but you can't just lay around all day, doing no… nothing."

Nothing was right; Yang's full and perfect breasts were out there on display. And Blake wasn't sure how to feel about that. Not sure at all. Especially since she hadn't seen them in this state before; with two linear scars beneath each one, both much bigger than they used to be. Obviously Blake knew she had them, but had yet to see them fully in the flesh.

But as soon as Yang recognized Blake was in the room, she threw the sheet off her face, and held it straight over her chest instead. Not as if to hide it, but more like a child about to throw some kind of tantrum. "But it's still earlyyyy…"

Blake's smile was both relieved and bemused. "Oh, it is, is it? You know it's like, afternoon, right?" But instead of pushing the matter further, she came and sat on the futon in front of Yang's pelvis, nestling herself in the sweet little spot. "Hey," she sighed as he hand began to drift up and down her naked arm. "Sorry, I'm not trying to be a dick. Just… Sun is here, so maybe we could all watch a movie or something?"

"Is this before or after we tell him we made out?" she groaned. But did as she was asked, sitting herself upright to make some sort of effort towards getting up. “Ugh… what truck hit me?”

That reminder made Blake's face pinken very slightly, but she did her best to push through. "Umm… okay, I was gonna ask you if you remembered that happening, too. Guess that saves me the trouble." Fidgeting with her fingers, she shrugged, "So. You're… ready to tell him with me, right? Since it's kind of both our fault."

Yang shrugged her shoulders. She didn't exactly want to tell him it happened. In fact, she slightly regretted it happening in the first place. Slightly. But hiding it was only going to make more guilt, and hurt an innocent party. Besides, in the face of everything with Weiss, this barely mattered. This time, more aware that she was half naked, she held the sheet up against her chest as she stood.

"Yeah. We need to get it over with."

"Your body really is gorgeous," Blake told her in a would-be casual voice. There was a little too much nervousness in it to be believed, but she had tried to keep it sounding like an offhand comment; something to help Yang feel better.

And it did. Even if she didn't want it to, the compliment made her cheeks begin to turn red again. Hearing that from Blake, someone who had seen her before transition, meant the world to her. Especially since Blake loved how she was before, but seemed to equally like how she was now. The way Yang wanted it to be. She leant down to fetch her shirt from the ground, deciding not to bother with a bra today. Hopefully she didn't have to leave the house.

"Thanks,” she finally made herself reply. “I'm pleased with it, even if a lot of people don't think I should be."

"No, you… I mean…" Trying for a hammy comedian tone, she said, "I like what you've done with the place!"

Throwing her shirt on while she had her back turned to Blake, she managed to force a small chuckle, turning back around to her once she was covered up. “Thanks.” Boxer shorts and a top, that would do for the day. If Blake allowed it, that was.

Pushing to her feet, since it seemed like Yang was ready to leave her room, she blurted, "Seriously, though, you look great! I think you did before - and I mean, just with the wig. Not 'as a boy' before you transitioned." Clearly flustered, she whispered, "You're just really pretty is what I'm trying to say, even if I'm saying it wrong."

It only continued to make Yang smile again. At the very least, it was another person on her side. One less person to call her a circus freak and actually learn to respect the work she had put into making her body reflect her soul. Definitely a positive.

"Thank you, really… I was kinda worried you'd freak out. Since you're not used to me having… well, jugs."

"True, it's… new," Blake laughed as they finally left to head downstairs. "But I knew you were planning on getting them, so it's not really a 'shock'. Just new."

By the time they made it downstairs, Sun had mostly finished tidying the living room. The one who actually lived in the place felt ashamed that she had let it get so bad when normally, her townhouse was quite tidy. Having Yang around had regressed her to her college days, it seemed. Picking up the final bag of trash from the ground, he looked at the two women standing in the doorway. Yang expected to be shouted at for it, but that definitely didn't happen.

Instead the boy smiled, looking right at Yang. "Hey buddy. How'd ya sleep?"

It brought a sigh of relief to the blonde bruiser, who rubbed her eye with the ball of her hand to try and wake herself up. "Good… the alarm clock's annoying, but yeah." And then she gave a small smirk toward Blake.

"You're welcome," Blake muttered, then cleared her throat and said to Sun, "Sorry for making you pick up after us… I was gonna get it later, I promise."

"It's fine, seriously! Yang's not up to it right now and you're helping her out. I'm just doing my part."

He smiled happily at them both, heading straight into the kitchen from the living room and dumping everything accordingly, even the recycling. In fact, the happier he sounded, the more and more Yang was beginning to feel guilty. They were about to deliver some decidedly unpleasant news. That feeling was made worse when she heard him call out just as happily to them.

"Oh, I bought some old consoles for us to mess around on! A hacked Wii so we can play a bunch of old SNES games, PS2 - even my old Dreamcast! Thought we could all rage at one another on Sonic Shuffle or something."

Blake also had the good grace to glance at Yang with a grimace, clearly also thinking about their lapse in judgment the night before. "Sonic Shuffle? Wow, that's a blast from the past!" was all she said, however.

"Hell yeah it is! You know what I'm like for retro games. Found it in a thrift store for fifty cents, I keep saying they're worth going I-" When he entered the room again, he caught the both of them looking glumly toward the ground, and his smile began to fade. "Uhhh… is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine." Perhaps "fine" was stretching the truth, but Blake knew it wasn't a lie, either. Nothing was truly wrong, no one had died, and no one was hurt. Regardless, she tried to get this topic out of the way quickly, efficiently. "Um, remember how we talked about whether or not we'd… be okay with an open relationship before?"

Sun tilted his head. There was an increasing amount of worry in his expression. And yet, not as much as Yang had expected. "Yeah, I remember; I’m not getting that old yet . What's up?"

"Well… this isn't really that! Not at all! But it's in that general area." Glancing over at Yang, she sighed and decided it was best to get it out and over with - but with a minor adjustment. "Last night, I got a little too stoned and kissed Yang."

Which made the blonde's eyes widen. That was wrong, Yang was the one that kissed first. Blake had just taken the blame for it instead. She was about to raise her hand to correct it, but was interrupted.

"That's it?" Sun asked, looking back and forth between them both, clearly unimpressed. "Seriously? I mean, come on, getting stoned and making out sounds like par for the course. You always get a little touchy-feely when you’re high."

"Well… I know, but with our history…" Blake shrugged and looked down at the floor. Maybe she couldn't explain why she felt guilty despite their previous attempts to discuss this possibility; logically, she shouldn't. "Guess I just feel bad because you weren't here and I didn't ask if it was okay, or something."

"Look, I know you guys have a past. And I know it was pretty… big." He pushed a hand through his hair, scratching the top of his head, looking to one side as he thought about things. Although he then looked back up. "But the breakup wasn’t super messy, and you're best friends now, for crying out loud. I trust you, Blake. And I trust that Yang's someone you know and someone who won't hurt you. It's way better than some random dude or chick I barely know."

That flabbergasted her completely. Glancing between the two blondes, she said with a nervous laugh, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're actually encouraging me to bang her again!"

"Well no, I'm not encouraging it. More like… how do I put it… Don't ask, don't tell?"

But as he continued to scratch his head nervously, Yang was only just beginning to come to terms with what was happening. Blake's boyfriend was not only okay with what was happening, but was fine if it continued. Or even if it increased all the way into the bedroom. Not only that, but the first thing Blake went to was the possibility of them sleeping together again. Did Blake really want to?!

For her part, Blake was clearly as stunned as she was. The room was silent for a few more seconds before she awkwardly swung her arms a little, then said, "Ohhhhhh-kay, then. Guess that's, um… that's how that goes. Yep."

"Just one condition: don’t do any of that stuff while I’m around. Keep it between you guys. Cool?"

"Cool…" It was the only word that slipped from Yang's mouth after all that as they watched Sun head for the bathroom to keep cleaning up. Everything had happened so quickly. Within the space of a few minutes, Yang had gotten up, barely dressed, and apparently was now in a causal relationship with her ex again. After barely a week of being away from Weiss. Was that normal? Or even, the best thing for her? She needed the attention - craved it, in fact. But a part of her felt horrendously guilty. If Weiss were to find out…

No, that wouldn't happen. Yang was determined of that. She couldn't even tell Ruby of this if she rang again. As far as anyone was concerned, Yang was still just crashing at Blake's while things died down. As she planned in the first place. Besides, maybe the single kiss would be as far as it went; no use panicking over nothing.

Blake caught her elbow and whispered into her ear, "Wow, I am… so sorry this went this way. All I meant to do was clear the air, and now he thinks we're…" Her voice cut off from finishing that. "Not that there would be anything wrong with that, but it totally was not what I meant! Even if that kiss was nice, we're not required to do it again!"

"It's okay." It wasn't. That was all Yang could think to whisper back to her as she was still trying to process it all. But she hadn't the heart to say anything against things, not just yet at least. Only thing she did bring up, however… "Look, I'm still tired as fuck right now. Y'mind if we just chill out a while and worry about this later?"

"Oh… y-yeah, totally." Blake looked down to her socks as she followed Yang into the living room, chagrined. It was written all over her face that she thought she was messing up a lot, but she tried to simply put it out of her mind. She cleared her throat, glanced sideways at Yang, and called out, "So, Sun… you said you have Sonic Shuffle?"

"Yeah! Mario Party on the Wii, too! Want me to set it up?"

Yang only paced toward the sofa, sitting herself down and sinking into it yet again. At times, her gaze went straight back to Blake's 'box of tricks' on the table. It was both the solution to the problem of being so upset, but the cause of this new mess she had gotten herself into. Maybe none of this would have happened if she’d turned it down in the first place.

A little over a week passed without much change. Blake would go to the office during the day where she worked as an administrative assistant, and Yang would laze around staring at bad soap operas and hating life. Though the brunette worried a lot about that, she knew these kinds of things really took their toll so she tried not to be too judgmental. Of course, if nothing had changed after a second week, she'd have to intervene.

Meanwhile, having her around again was complicated, but good. She still really loved Yang after all these years, had missed certain things about the way they were together. There was a comfortable fit to them, a familiarity. It was even easier than her and Sun, which already felt like the most natural relationship in the world. Both of them were jokesters, and both had an easy confidence, but Sun was the one who acted more like a little boy, with the childlike wonder that brought her back from the rigors of the professional world effortlessly. Yang, on the other hand, was the drunk college friend who needed to party like there was no tomorrow - even though the "need" to find an escape stemmed from a different place now than it did back then. Both blondes were fun, in different ways.

How did she wind up with two Asian blondes?!

Friday night was such a relief; now she could spend all weekend with a much less morose Yang Xiao Long. Maybe it wasn't normal, but she had found herself bouncing with excitement at the prospect all throughout her workday, humming as she typed, chuckling quietly about something Yang had told her the night before. If she didn't know better, she'd say she was-

'Nope, not going there,' she thought at herself pointedly as she opened the door and slipped the keys back into her purse. Clearing her throat, and the cobwebs in her mind away, she called out, "HEY, I'm home!"

"Welcome back, honey!" That wasn't Yang. That was the cocky voice of her boyfriend coming from the living room. While she was away, Sun had pulled a day off due to a really low number of jobs. Rather than wait for a response from Blake, he went straight over, and had been in Yang's company all day. Both were currently in the midst of one of Sun's favorite activites: Bad Movie Night.

It seemed like it was working for Yang, as she was staring at the screen while their film was coming to a close, hands outstretched towards it like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Why does ninety percent brain capacity mean time travel? What the actual FUCK?!"

"Oh, looks like I missed the party," Blake snorted, smiling behind their backs. They were so cute together; she was almost thinking of them as her little blond bookends. "Mind if I pick the next one? I was thinking about ordering some Chinese."

Yang snorted to herself. Already in a giddy mood from the movies, she looked over to Blake and smirked. "Why order more when there's all this Chinese on the couch?"

Sun had picked the wrong time to be drinking more of his beer. That comment made him dribble some down his face against the bottle, quickly putting it back on the table when he laughed loudly, having to hold his stomach. "Holy shit, Yang! You racist!"

Blake was rolling her eyes, but eventually the look of Sun's face with all that beer running down it got her laughing, as well. "You dorks. Fine, if that's the case, I won't have any delivered - you'll make it. I want a half order of pork fried rice and some crab rangoons, alright?"

"Dude you say this… as if I know how to cook?" Yang commented, patting the space on the sofa between her and Sun to get her to sit down. That was one problem with Yang as a house guest: she had no idea how to cook, or where to begin. In fact she barely knew how to do the dishes or clean, even after all these years. But she was at least half-assing those things.

"I know you don't, but Sun can - and you can learn! Riiiiiight?"

The implication was pretty clear; she would try to learn, or hear no end of things. She leant her head back and groaned at the ceiling. "Do I have to?"

But Sun could tell exactly what Blake was after. Anyone could just order in food, but it wasn't the right thing to do necessarily. And while Yang was still in a glum mood when having do nothing but watch TV all day, this was one of those cases. It was better to try and motivate her rather than allow her to let herself go further down that road. Hopping up to his feet, he immediately helped Yang to her own.

"Yeah, you do! This isn't college, you can't have take out every day. C'mon! Pork fried rice is easy! Assuming we have pork… and rice… and a can of peas, and vegetable oil, and…"

Plopping down in the warm spot Sun had just vacated, Blake gave her new roomie's receding backside a little push with her hand. "Go learn, go learn! I'll be here when you get back."

"Nyeeeeeh…" Yang continued to protest, but she was being pulled away into the kitchen by Sun before she could make any real effort to stop it. Even if she knew her friends wanted to keep her active, she lacked the motivation. That had been lost since the abrupt breakup two weeks ago. And it would take far more than cooking to bring it back.

Still, Sun persisted anyway, and could be heard from the back room giving Yang instructions. Seemed it was his turn to play the nagging friend this time.

About twenty minutes later, Blake wandered in and took a deep inhale of the air, noting the scent of pork mixed with simmering oil. "Mmm, smells good so far." She snaked her arm around Sun's bicep and pulled herself closer to him, trying not to disturb what he was doing with his other arm.

Instinctively, Sun pulled her inward, giving a soft kiss on the top of her head while he continued to turn the pan back and forth, letting the rice fry evenly with the chunks of meat. He managed to get Yang busy with tasks that didn't require much effort, like getting plates and trays ready, and preparing drinks. Although while Sun had asked for squash, Yang had instead fetched three more bottles of beer. She was insistent that their night wasn't going to be a sober one, even without telling them. The main giveaway to that was when she reached to fetch the bottle opener.

"Slow down, girl!" Blake laughed as she watched Yang determinedly work on getting them drunk as soon as possible. "I know it's Friday, but…"

"Oh come on, why not? I can give you money towards it if that's what you're worried about." She'd been very slightly drunk all week. Even if it was never enough to get fall-down plastered, it seemed a necessity. Like she couldn't not have it.

But Sun shook his head, finally taking the wok off the heat as he paced toward the plates. "It's not the money we're worried about, it's the rate of intake. Don't you wanna slow down a little?"

"Right, exactly." But Blake decided she shouldn't push any more. They had said their peace, and it would be up to Yang to heed the advice or disregard it. Forcing the issue would yield no positive results.

"Oh please don't start," Yang sighed, holding one bottle firmly and the opener in the other. She hadn't opened it yet, but showed no signs she was going to put it down. "It’s just a pick-me-up."

"Your liver will need a pick-me-up if you keep drinking beer every night! We can get drunk another night, okay?" Sun was insistent. Of course, there were other ways to get the same relaxed feeling, ways without booze that Blake had acquired, but the two hadn't touched that again since that first night. Blake feared it was a habit she didn't want to get Yang too into, since it was expensive. But it would be better than beer for her health.

"Sun," Blake finally whispered, turning her head aside so that Yang couldn't hear her as easily. "Let her have one. I… kind of agree with you, and I'm glad you're looking out for her as much as me, but she's still pretty fucked up."

Deeply sighing, he looked between her, Yang, and the beer she was holding. Running his spare hand through his hair again, he eventually gave Yang his full attention again. "Alright, whatever. You can have one, but I don't feel like getting drunk tonight."

"Fiiiine." Yang exaggerated, popping the cap off the one in her hands and going back to one of the other two she had pulled out, holding it up and tilting it back and forth in Blake's direction. "What about you, Kitten? You want one?"

Blake's hand came up to take it, then froze. Her amber eyes flicked to Sun very briefly, hesitant, before she cleared her throat and took the beer to hopefully distract him from something she'd rather not get into.

"Y-yeah, I'll have one. That's my limit tonight, though; getting super trashed and stoned never mix very well."

"Oh brother…" Sun rolled his eyes, instead turning around to plate up the rice. Blake knew Yang best, and saw no point in arguing with them. Nor did he see this as a time to be trying to talk Blake out of getting stoned again.

But Yang however seemed to brighten up when Blake mentioned the latter part. It had been a week after all. "Can I join in on the stoned part?"

That had the raven-haired girl pursing her lips. "Yes. We'll try it once; Sun will be pretty sober so he can gauge if you have a good reaction or a bad one. But if you start freaking out or having a 'bad trip', we're forcing you to drink coffee and sober up whether you like it or not. Deal?"

"Deal." Yang nodded, already starting to head back into the living room with her beer in hand, seeming much more perky and happy already.

Leaving Sun to pick up both his and her plates. Before Blake collected her own, he had to say quietly, "Don't make a habit of getting her stoned. I know you know her best, but just be careful."

"Yeah, I know you're not down with this," she said, only the tiniest bit irritably. "Me doing it too much, or her doing it to avoid pain, and that it's not good in the long run, and all of that. Just… she needs more time before she can confront it, and I'm not going to stop her from doing what she thinks she needs for now, alright?"

He sighed once again. It was clear he wasn't going to win this. "I'm only trying to look out for you both. I'm worried, too. But I'll take your word for it if you think this is for the best. But please, just be careful?"

"I will, I promise. Really."

Then Blake followed him into the living room, where they put aside their worries in favor of a night of frivolity. Blake was more affected by her beer than Yang was, due to her slightly lower BMI, but with it only being the one bottle it was more than manageable. For Sun's sake, she waited until she could feel the effects wearing off somewhat before breaking out the magic box.

"Now, we're only doing one bowl," she warned Yang as she prepped it. "Gotta save some for tomorrow, right?"

"Awwwh…" Yang put on a pouty face, but straight away started to grin to show she was kidding. She was in much better spirits already; maybe because of the booze, or maybe the presence of two friends. No matter what it was, the thoughts of Weiss were seeming to diminish to a point she could handle them, as long as she had plenty to distract herself with. She did however then look toward Sun. "So, my fellow Chinese chef, you having some?"

Scratching the top of his head, Sun debated that for a moment. He himself wasn't much of a taker, only on the odd occasion when his girlfriend did in his company. And even then, it was mostly from her shotgunning him. "I dunno… My mom'll probably give me a lecture if I go home smelling like pot again. I was able to convince her it was just from one of the houses I went to for my job, but…"

"I got some Febreze after last time," Blake half-laughed, but she did have a sympathetic slant to her smile. "But you don't have to if you don't want to. We'll miss you while you're hiding in the bathroom, though."

He watched as Yang readied to take the first hit. No use in fighting it, not when it meant he could have fun with the two of them. "Ah fuck it, she'll be in bed by the time I get home anyways."

"That's the spirit." Yang grinned, inhaling the first breath of smoke before she passed it over to Blake, breathing it outward toward the ceiling. "What mama don't know won't kill her."

"Right," Blake said with a smirk as she inhaled deeply of the lingering smoke on the air. "Ahh… home sweet home." Then she hit it herself, pulling deeply and motioning for Sun to lean over so she could let him smoke in the usual manner.

"Hmm, a threesome with Mary Jane and Blake Belladonna? Don't mind if I do…" Sun grinned, climbing over the sofa and leaning right toward her, opening his mouth slightly so she could do as she wanted freely. Even if he wasn't supportive of her smoking so often, he wasn't going to turn down a hit if it was delivered via her lips.

Unfortunately for Yang, as she watched them both, it was causing a slight wave of jealousy. She couldn't put her finger on what the cause was, whether it was because it was that she had been exchanging smoke with her in the same way a week ago, or whether it was the fact they were a couple in general – stupid as that would be. She wasn’t in love with Blake. No, this was more about her general depression. Even if she was happier, there were still times when she found herself sinking extremely low when she thought back to what she had to leave: the relationship in general, and Weiss herself. There was a tiny voice inside her that wished it was Weiss that she was sharing this new sensation with, that she could be shotgunning the way Blake and Sun were doing right now.

When Blake pulled back, she was all smiles, offering the pipe to Sun, but he declined - as per usual. Then when she turned back to Yang. "Hey, you okay?" she asked, her grin slipping slightly when she caught the look. "You got a thousand-yard stare going on, and you've only had one hit."

"Huh?" Yang shook her head, suddenly looking back toward Blake again and faking a smile, taking the pipe gently from her. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine! Just… yeah, still feels weird. I'm so glad you're letting me do this again."

Of course, Blake saw right through her assurances; with a constant source of sadness like a breakup, she didn't even have to ask what she had been thinking about. So she just said, "No problem. Eventually I am gonna ask you to start chipping in when I have to go buy more, but I'd never tell you that you have to go get it, or cut you off unless it was becoming a problem for some reason."

"Oh yeah, definitely. I mean, my paycheck went through a little while ago and I… don't have anything else to spend it on…" Of course she didn't. Not now that she was lacking someone to spoil. Even if her previous girlfriend could have bought herself anything in the world, she still enjoyed buying things for her when she could. The hanfu being the prime example.

Yet again, Yang was beginning to slip back down. And Sun noticed this time. As Yang took another hit, he began to smile, giving Blake a slight nudge to get her attention as well, he took Yang's completely empty bottle, placing it on it's side on the table. "Hey Yang, how about a game of Truth or Dare?"

"Ooh, that's a great idea - and I have the perfect thing for this!" Pushing up from the floor, Blake sprinted into the kitchen and coming back with a small grey tin and a bottle of water. Slapping both on the table, she looked around at all of them with a wicked glint in her eyes.

"Whoever refuses to do either the dare, or tell the truth they were asked… has to eat an anchovy."

Yang’ s face was priceless. "Oh, fucking gross! Why you gotta make it nasty?!"

"Well, you better do the dares then, Blondie. Or be ready to tell us everything." Really, it was a distraction. Even if he was telling Blake it wasn't the best thing to do, he could understand that letting her dwell on things like this while high could lead to dangerous consequences. And he also was grateful that she had picked a non-alcoholic consequence for wimping out.

Not dwelling on it any longer, he spun the bottle, waiting as it spun on its side repeatedly. Around and around and around… that was until he regretted it. It landed right on him. "Oh, shit."

"Yes!" Blake laughed and clapped. "Okay, how do we wanna do this? Last person who spun asks the next person's question?" When neither of them objected, she shrugged and looked at him. "Okay, I’ll go this time. Sun… truth or dare?"

"No faaaiiir…" Sun complained, folding his arms and pouting. But by now, a few minutes had passed and the pot was beginning to take effect. "Alright, Dare."

Blake pursed her lips in thought. In reality, this look on her face had a lot to do with why Yang called her "Kitten" - but she tried not to think about that. Old memories, some of which were bittersweet.

"I dare you… to do a headstand for thirty seconds." This was definitely going easy on him. Not that he did headstands all the time, but he was at least fairly athletic and could manage such feat. Though it would probably make him at least a little nauseated…

"Oh, that's it? Easy!" He grinned, standing up off the sofa and pacing over to the clear area of the living room. As soon as Yang shuffled her legs away, there was plenty of space for him to kneel down, holding his hands either side his head as he pushed the rest of his body upwards. It took little to no time for his legs to be perfectly straight, and he remained in that position perfectly easy. There was barely any strain when he spoke. "Hah, might as well spin it! I got this in the bag."

"That's me spinning?" Blake did so, watching as the beer bottle went around and around. For a second, she thought it was going to land on Sun again, but then it moved just enough to end up pointing at Yang.

"Haha, nice! Okay, Yang, tee or dee?"

"That bottle is clearly racist," Yang joked, but sat back as she prepared for whatever punishment they were about to deliver. It would be the lesser of the two options this time. "Truth."

"And me do the question this time, right?" Sun asked, only just beginning to bring his legs back downward to finish off his dare. He'd lasted more than enough time. "Okay… why did you call Blake 'Kitten' earlier?"

Blake ducked her head, blushing. She had really been hoping that he would forget about that! However, it wasn't up to her, it was up to Yang - a stoned and drunk Yang.

"Hoooo boy." Yang leant back, staring up at the ceiling as she took another hit, breathing in the smoke and then releasing it into the air above. "Well, one day I compared her to a cat, because she was eating tuna straight out the can, with the brine barely even drained. But instead of giving me a decent human response…" She could already see that Blake was getting more and more embarrassed as the story went on, which only made her smirk all the more. "She let out this mewling sound with her mouth full, it sounded ridiculous! So I teased her about it, called her ‘Kitten’ all day after that. But then, she would make meowing sounds when I stopped, so the name just kinda stuck."

However, when it seemed like Blake was about to respond, Yang leant in closer to Sun, whispering to him, even if it was obvious she could hear them; "Also when she snores, it sounds like a purr."

"HEY!" Blake burst out, pointing at her with an irate finger. "I do not snore, you take that back!"

"You do so snore," Yang insisted. "And it's usually when you sleep really well. And that tended to be right after a really good-"

"Hey, Yang, your turn to spin!" Sun suddenly blurted out, having a feeling he knew exactly where that was going. Even if he knew they had a past, and had suspected the two were becoming close again with him not protesting, he didn't exactly want to think about it. And so focused on the bottle as Yang span it. And low and behold- "Hah! Your turn, Blake!"

Palming her own face, partly still from the earlier story and partly for the dark portents hanging over her head, she grumbled, "Ughhh… alright, alright. I pick… tru- NO! Dare! I'll take a dare, yeah."

"Hmm…" Yang put her hand to her chin in thought. This would have been easier if she had chosen the truth, Yang had plenty of ammo to embarrass her with that. But a dare was more difficult. And made even more difficult when she was feeling the effects of the hits taking place. But in the end …

"I dare you… to take off an item of clothing. And don't do that cheating with just a sock. Shorts or shirt, off."

"YANG!" She stared over at Sun, flabbergasted, but of course he wasn't going to complain; he loved seeing her naked. Not that she would be "naked" as such, but…

With a heavy, beleaguered sigh, Blake hurriedly unbuttoned the nice purple blouse she had worn into the office and whipped it off, revealing the equally purple bra. It was a bit lacy, but nothing one would consider overly sexual; just a decent bra from a department store. And it was doing a good job of hiding her chest from view.

Both of them watched of course. Her boyfriend for the obvious reasons, because he adored seeing every part of her body, even if it was only partially naked. And Yang because half of her was curious to see if anything had changed at all, while the other half was too stoned to do anything else. Sun managed to catch that Yang was staring a little too much however, and cleared his throat rather loudly.

"Remember that little rule, ladies," he reminded them, though after giving a cheeky wink to Blake, he prompted her. "Your turn, babe."

"Right," she snorted, trying not to feel too self-conscious. After all, they had both seen her goods before, right? True, for Yang it had been a few years, but they were still much the same. Shaking the stoned thought from her brain, she spun it quickly before taking the pipe from Yang.

And laughed as it pointed at Sun again. "Well, looks like the bottle likes you tonight."

"For fuck’s sake," Sun groaned, rolling his eyes. "Alright, truth this time."

Again, Blake was thinking… and she found herself stuck on a question. One she really wanted to know his answer to, very deeply - but she couldn't ask it. She had to take Sun at his word that he didn't mind if she slept with Yang again, even if this was a ready-made excuse to find out the truth once and for all. Of course, the fact that she wanted to know so much made her a bit nervous. She and Yang were just friends! Really good, old friends…

'Who used to date,' her inner demon whispered. 'And you know how good HE was back then. How good will SHE be now?'

Wafting that away frantically, she went for a slightly easier question, one that was more funny than dangerous. "Okay… truth: do you think Yang is hot?"

"Whoa, what?!" Sun yelped. What a way to suddenly flip the pressure to him instead! As he looked back around to a smirking Yang, who was even winding him up as she crossed her legs and posed as demurely as she could, Sun found himself blushing, rubbing the back of his head again. "I mean… Yeah, sure. Yang's pretty cute. And, I guess… hot, too. But if I'm honest, I'd be more nervous that I'd end up being the ‘ bottom ’ ."

Such a response only made Yang laugh loudly. Now she was feeling way too stoned to care, she could easily jest with them both. "That sounds like a boy who's curious about being a bottom, wouldn't you say, Blake?"

"Well," Blake sighed with a huge plume of smoke in Sun's direction, "he's been on the bottom lots of times, but… yeah, we haven't tried anything like that yet." Then she slapped a hand over her mouth, amber eyes like dinner plates when she realized how forward that was. "Oh God - sorry, Sun, y-you'd probably be happier if I kept that shit to myself, right?"

Sun's look of shame and burning red cheeks were all Yang needed to know. She continued to laugh at them both, now armed with this new information. The boy was curious, was he? But once she was done, she wiped away a small tear of joy from her eye, speaking to them both with a giddy grin.

"Seriously, guys, I can say from years of experience; whoever told you nothing should ever go up there is lying. It's fucking amazing, okay?"

That made Blake turn to him, a would-be pleasant smile on her face. Her voice was carefully casual as she asked, "So… do I need to go buy something special for you, or what? No judgement, no pressure."

"Hey, you only get one question!" Sun blurted as he tried to hide his face with one hand. That was completely red by this point. But things were going to get no better as it landed right back on him again. "Oh come on!"

"HAH!" Yang laughed loudly again, eventually shuffling herself slightly closer as she put her hand on his shoulder, saying reassuringly, "It's okay, we won't ask about if you wanna get fucked anymore if you don't want us to; you and Blakey can talk about that in private."

"Hmph… You're both jerks." He huffed, folding his arms this time. "Truth, again."

"Alright, I'll make this a little easier on you, Sun - even though I thought a 'hot or not' question wasn't too horrible, it led, uh… weird places." Passing the pipe to Yang, Blake thought it over for a minute, then said, "Okay… where's the most embarrassing place you've ever been turned on?"

Yang immediately took the pipe and was beginning another hit again. She'd had more than anyone so far, but didn't care. If anything, it was giving her more of an excuse to zone out, and occasionally glance over at Blake. Blake who was still partially naked. Namely, her top half. She had missed seeing it, even after so long. Why did she miss seeing it?

But once Sun was speaking, her concentration focused on his speaking instead. "Well… back in high school, me and my pal Sage were getting changed after gym class, and I turned around to see his towel had dropped. Quickly turned back, of course - but then I was trying to conceal a boner I had for the guy all day. It was embarrassing as fuck."

"Oh?" Blake found herself stunned by this news. They hadn't discussed this much; Sun had mentioned he didn't think of himself as "very straight," but that was as much detail as they went into - and anytime they talked about finding someone attractive, it was always girls for him. Against her will, she found her body responding to the thought of him turned on by looking at another man - which was ridiculous! That should be a bad thing, shouldn't it? The last thing she wanted was to lose him to some boy with a nice ass.

"Well," she finally managed to make herself go on, flushed cheeks probably giving away her state of mind. "You, um… well. So you really enjoyed what you saw that much, huh?"

Sun shrugged his shoulders, ruffling his hair again nervously. "Sage is a good lookin' dude. I guess it really was… Hey, I'm not high enough for this, pass that shit."

As the evening wore on, more questions and dares were exchanged between the group, along with the remains of the one pipe. At some point, Sun had been dared to flash the other two, Yang had to remove a piece of her clothing as well - which thankfully she had chosen to wear undies that day so made it her shorts, and Blake had been dared to perform a fake pole dance on the edge of the doorway as best she could. Along with the exchange of equally damning truths of course.

Now the three were particularly high, the smoke having had plenty of time to have its full effect on them. They were nearing the last few spins according to Sun and the curfew time he had given himself, and as Blake spun the bottle one more time, it landed on the much longer-haired blonde, Yang. "Uh oh."

"Hah!" Blake crowed, clapping her hands way more than was necessary and almost knocking over her water. The cap was still off from Sun chugging after the anchovy he ate due to refusing to answer whether or not he would take “The Yang Wang” up his ass. "Okay, Goldilocks… what's it gonna be?"

"Oh boy…" Now Yang was far too high to think of anything. She was simply laying on the floor, arms sprawled out, legs crossed over one another to stop the bulge from showing too much - especially since the subject of banging Sun came up. Finally running her hand down her face, she said, "It can't get any worse. Truth."

"Okay." A few options ran through her mind… primarily sex-related ones, of course. She debated some questions about Weiss, but the last thing any of them wanted was for the good mood to evaporate in the wake of Yang's sadness. "Um… if you had the power to pick between being born with a vag but less attractive, and being the way you are now, which would you go with?"

"Huh…" That was a new one. Even if similar questions had come up before multiple times, through counsellors, her father, even Ruby at one point; Yang never quite knew how to answer. It was a part of her body she was curious of changing, but never saw it as a necessity. Not to her, at least. She was happy with what she had, it never made her feel dysphoric like her chest did. But to experience it for a while would be nice…

However, she immediately answered, "I could still be as attractive as I am now and have that chance. So to be honest, nah. I kinda like Lao as she is."

For whatever reason, Blake found herself smiling warmly over at her old friend. Was it because she liked that Yang still had that anatomy? Was she that selfish? But the more she thought about it… that wasn't really the case. She was simply happy her friend was comfortable in her body now. Reaching over to clap her on the shoulder, she said, "Good, that's awesome. Okay, spin one last time before Sun has to go."

"We better get it on him then." Yang smirked, sitting back upright to spin the bottle for the final time. Around and around, until finally, it seemed to do just as asked. Sun's turn. "Hah! There you go, monkey boy!"

"Hey, you guys are the ones asking me to do yoga poses!" Sun complained, folding his arms and pouting for a moment. But after rolling his eyes, he had to answer the request. No escaping yet! "Truth. Because I'm too high to do anymore poses."

"Awh, I was hoping you'd bend over so we could test if you really did want the Wang." When all she received in return was a growl from him, and a small giggle from Blake, she put some serious thought into the truth question. Sun was still a newcomer to her, she didn't quite know where the line was drawn in questions to ask. Especially when it came to his sexuality, which though was revealed more tonight, he was still sensitive about. But there were other areas she could ask about. Like the limits of Blake and his open relationship.

"Hurry up and ask him," Blake asked before taking another sip of water. "And make it a good one; a real night-ender!"

"Okay, okay… how would you feel, if Blake was sleeping with me?"

#white noise #bumbleby #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants #drug use tw

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maxfieldandmorgan · 5 years ago

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Prompt: “write about home”

feb 12

“Home”

Home... what happened at home? Outbursts at Christmas why even bother opening the presents anyway thanks for spending the money you worked hard for it fucking suffered for poured your life and soul and blood for countless hours on the road and spent most of it on shit no one needed and chocolate and lottery tickets to maybe escape and now we can’t even pretend to enjoy this i told you i didnt need anything,

thanks for the toothbrush, no, really, thanks for the toothbrush

whispering in the stairs, money money money, not enough of it, pay the bills, that was your half, i need forty dollars for gas, i gave you my half of the mortgage, i need money for batteries for the remotes, why even whisper i can hear you the walls are fucking cardboard, and i have to cry silently, except you don’t even hear it,

and it surprises you when i tell you i want medicine, when both my hands are broken and bleeding and where did this aggression come from, it was beaten into me and i have to beat it out, break your spine over a bagel, make you cry, your nose as a joke, that’s all a fucking joke, you people are just two dying children and i feel so sorry for you,

and now i’m a fucking joke too, because i let myself become one of you

get off the stairs! you’re going to break them, only one person allowed on the stairs, stop running on the landing! why are you breaking things, please don’t break anything, who’s pounding! so worried, what are you worried about? what are you really worried about? what was it like to be 19? what was it like without him? what was it like when he came back, were you 3? what was it like to have them coming in and out of the house, cursing you out, worthless, good for nothing, using, cut a man in half with a hammer, hid in your house, the sirens blaring, the choppers, what was it like

i need to know because this is trapped inside me, these lives i didn’t live are boiling in my blood, i beat it into submission, fight it, hurt it, cut it, and it’s only me i’m killing, i need to know, i need to know, I NEED TO KNOW

throwing glass on the kitchen floor, i don’t even remember what we were fighting over, probably because you weren’t listening, play the victim, play the victim, learn to play the victim, where’d you learn it from? maybe because it worked. worked for you. worked for me. i refuse to play the victim. you refuse to listen. refuse to change. not my problem. i can change. i’m still changing.

i still change, or try to change, day by day.

crying in the shower, maybe we should talk about it, maybe that’s what you’re worried about, maybe that’s what we’re all worried about, dying, all your friends are dying, you’re ignoring the fact you’re dying. letting it slip at the dinner table, in front of your parents, in front of your kids, how long? i mean the antidepressants, and then off the medicine, i mean how long? they weren’t working, but how long? sons crying while they hold each other, he thinks he would be the cause, can you imagine?

letting it slip, you want to fucking kill yourself

dealing with it, dealing with it, dealing with it. Looking at the screen. looking at the screen. swiping, clicking, watching, passive, behind, ignoring, searching, always on the screen.

Maybe not the home you thought I’d write about. But it’s the home I’m thinking about right now.

How many homes. Years, homes, faces, people, changes, changes, welcome, love, hate, out the door, get out of my home, leave, Home. I left.

thank you for welcoming me into your home. nice to meet you dad. nice to meet you mom. sister. brother. i’m only here for a little while, don’t get to know me too well.

Home.

you have a lovely home. robbery. drugged, *****, twice, in your lovely home.

get me the fuck out of here. get out. i want to go. lying so we can keep driving through the crying. i’m going to drive onto the other side of traffic and kill us both. screaming. apologizing. lying to keep driving.

noise complaint. you have to leave. security is knocking. 3 am. sorry, we’ll keep it down. kicked, scratched, bitten, why? because you grew up in a lovely home.

How many plastic trash bags filled, and refilled, thrown, and thrown away, again again again. years torn up, piled up, bagged up, and thrown away. memories, dollars, minutes, bagged up, and thrown away. body bags of past lives thrown into trash compactors. one after one after one.

Raking leaves, allergies, asthma, hives, rash, throat swelling, onto the tarps, raking leaves, pulling tarps, dumping tarps into the woods, pulling the tarps back across the street. Raking leaves. ticks and the disease. is that the reason? searching frantically, purchasing and stock piling pills, is that the reason? is that the reason?

Late for jazz band. Late for breakfast. never talking about it. but talking about it in the pain, talking with the eyes. I wish we could talk about it. I wish we didn’t have to. I wish you didn’t have it. I wish I wish I wish. But even when I was done wishing and tried helping tried changing tried saving tried this tried that tried everything. who the fuck deserves it?

Even the cats are dying, fluid in the lungs, fluid in the lungs, fluid in the lungs, pipsi, halo, binx. are we dying?

I’ll put you out in the cold. we are all out in the cold.

Home.

Sharing a bedroom, sharing a mattress, sharing this sadness, sharing this life. days and days turn into years, and why were you the one who got kicked out? victim. i was still afraid of the dark. still afraid of the dark.

How many tears did we refuse to share. i couldn’t be the only one. i wonder how often.

Cold. So cold. Sleeping in the living room. Candles burning. Candles snuffed out. The smell of smoke. The smell of kerosene. Sloppy joe mix heated on the gas stove, 5 days straight. Snow melted with boiled water in the bathtub drink and flush the toilets. All the blankets, the flashlights out of batteries, cold.

Thunder. Thunder and lighting in the summer. Standing outside, strike me. Licking the rain droplets off the screen door. The taste of zinc, the smell of rain, the feeling of wood.

Railroad tracks. Pennies flattened by 10,000 tons of steel going a million miles an hour, the roar. Pressing the still hot piece of metal into my palm.

Fridge is empty.

Hot. The glass fogged, the mirror steamed, hot, the sound of crickets, cicadas, raindrops, hot. Baked in, sealed in. Laying on top of the sheets. Fans blowing dust.

receiving a letter in the mail just now, signed Christine I Coultrip, new signature, no Branson

Why is this the home I’m thinking about?

I want you to know where I came from. I want you to know the things that go unspoken. I want you to know why I think the way I think. I want you to know why I do what I do.

I want you to know these things.

Where is home?

Is it a hot bath to come back to, after you can’t feel your fingers, your toes, your nose, ears, can’t feel not even your thoughts or feelings, a bath to relax in, to burn in. to get as far away from for as long, from you, and from it, and from it all, but how long can you really get away? and do you ever really get away?

is it a mattress to fall down on, to spread out, to turn off, to get hit by the fan, turned off entirely, to drown it out, to watch yourself from the outside, until you disappear, and then reappear, and walk through hell, just to fade away in the evening again, when does it end?

is it a desk to sit at, to scribble notes, to make plans, to check boxes, to create lists, to “work,” to list items, to count dollars, to save pennies, to open a letter, to put receipts, to make an attempt, an honest attempt?

is it a stove to make the beans just hot enough to eat right now because you’re so fucking hungry and you’ve got 22 cans left and you might as well.

What is home?

What does it mean to be homeless?

Maybe part of home, part of where you came from, part of who you are, are the things you can’t leave behind, or choose to grow out of, or choose to leave, or maybe if you can’t, have to come with you, are part of the deal, maybe home is where the heart is

We are the people who walk through these hallways, sleep in these beds, have these conversations trapped in the walls, knocking to get out, open and close doors, enter and exit, use and be used, we are these people... inhabiting these spaces, these moments, these memories, we are these people.

What choice do we have in the matter?

I struggle every day to understand.

I want to build a home. I want to be a home. I want to be home.

I want to show our son or daughter home movies. 3 years old, birthday party, birthday cake, icing, decorated, laughter, friends, old, birthday boy, running around, “look at me!” look at you.

I want to hold my wife. to still kiss you, even though we aren’t 20 anymore, even though the years are there, everything in between the smiles is there, still kiss you, happy anniversary, i love you.

i want to put the kids to sleep, and talk about your day, how was work?

i want to pick the perfect curtains, no not those ones, you don’t like that color, does this come in a different fabric?

Home is miles and years away... behind me and in front.

5th grade art class drawing of my house, a way to teach us “perspective” now looking back, a different kind of perspective

I guess you can’t ever really run away from home.

---

Maxfield

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thekimmiandjackieshow · 7 years ago

Text

Pilot 1 and the Ponchos

My trek working around the world was mostly complete. I had worked in Disney Springs, Magic Kingdom, and Hollywood Studios. All I needed was one resort and EPCOT. EPCOT was up next. Somebody was desperate to give away a shift at the Land Pavilion and I was desperate for hours. That was always the risk I took when I gave away a week’s worth of shifts. Finding replacement shifts wasn’t always easy, unless you were willing to work literally wherever. I didn’t even know there was a merchandise shop in The Land pavilion. I had certainly never seen it. I was told that it was a small location just outside Soarin’.

To be honest, I wasn’t very excited. The costume was just khaki pants and a blue and green striped shirt. Soarin’ was closed at the time so they could add an extra theater, and I think even “Circle of Life” was closed. I was imagining the slowest shift of all time.

I had dropped Dana off at work at EPCOT once or twice and had seen how small the cast parking lot was. I didn’t really feel like driving around and around for a spot when I could just take the bus, so I relied on Transtar. There was always a bus schedule floating around the apartment, so I grabbed it and figured out where I needed to be.

We got to the cast parking lot and a Cast Services building punctuated the front.

It seemed as easy as Hollywood Studios, just bigger. I scanned my ID and walked through the zoom gates. The costuming room was on the left, locker rooms for changing on the right, and the door to the rest of backstage directly in front of me. I walked into costuming where most of the room was filled with white shorts and World Showcase Flag shirts. I went up and down the aisles, not finding what I was looking for. From a distance I saw the blue and green striped shirts. Upon getting closer, I was very surprised and really happy.

The khaki pants were still boring and unflattering, but the blue and green shirt turned out to be so much more than just stripes. The picture I was going off of was taken from far enough away that the detailing was completely lost. In person, there was no mistaking it as one of the best shirts ever. While the blue and green stripes were there, inside the stripes were little tiny Earths. The top of the shirt was blue, with green lettering that said “Save the Earth” over and over again.

I was in love. The lack of subtlety had me in tears of laughter and I was ready for my shift. Chelsea, my old roommate who worked in Future World as Custodial the semester before, had drawn me a map of backstage Future World so that I could easily find my way. In Future World you can either walk to your location or take the bus. I thought maybe the bus would be more direct so I hopped on, double checking to make sure I boarded the right one. We went all the way around World Showcase and I got a nice tour of what everything looked like backstage. The second to last stop was approaching and I was prepared to get off. My phone had the map pulled up and I was about to get off when the bus driver said, “The land?”. I froze and nodded. “The land is the next stop.”

The bus driver closed the bus door and asked me to get behind the yellow line. I wasn’t going to argue with them but I was slightly worried the map would all of a sudden be useless. I was right.

Surprise! I got lost again.

I got off the bus at the land stop and had no idea where to go from there. I should’ve asked the bus driver, but by the time I had thought of that the bus was long gone. I tried to figure out what was around me. Some sort of greenhouse... I had no clue. The map Chelsea drew all of a sudden didn’t match up with anything I was seeing at all. There weren’t even any other Cast Members back there to ask where to go. I was backstage completely by myself, 100% lost. After another few moments of staring at the map, I texted Chelsea saying I was lost backstage. She called me. MY SAVIOR!

“Chelsea I’m lost!” Not that I was surprised. I had gotten turned around every single time I picked up a shift. Backstage could really use more signs and directories. I described to her where I was, but she didn’t really have an idea either. She told me to keep walking towards the buildings so I did, and eventually I ran into a trash compactor. All of a sudden, Chelsea knew exactly where I was.

“Are there doors nearby that sound really loud every time somebody opens them?” That exact second, a Cast Member opened them up. “Yes!” She got me right where I needed to be. I was so impressed. She just navigated me through backstage EPCOT by a trash compactor.

Successfully in the land building, I found the merchandise store next to Soarin’. “Green Thumb Emporium” was the official name, but it was honestly just a desk, a candy thing, and a shelf with some merchandise on it.

I introduced myself to the only Cast Member standing there and she told me how to get to the break room.

The start of my shift was the other Cast Member’s break. My assignment was “Pilot 1″. I guess the theme of the shop was some sort of airport stop. The shop was so small and it was right by Soarin’, so it sort of made sense. I couldn’t believe even they had themed assignments. This tiny hole-in-the-wall shop that most probably didn’t even know existed had more theming than the entire Main Entrance Merchandise area at Animal Kingdom. The store was slow. “Living with the Land”, the boat attraction, stayed at a solid 5 minute wait time for a while. I was bored. A few guests came up and asked me where the bathrooms were, another bought some candy, but beyond that I just talked to the other Cast Member working there.

Unfortunately, she didn’t last long. She wasn’t feeling well, called a leader, and requested to go home. She stayed just long enough to cover my break (called a “layover” to fit the airport theming) and then went home. I knew I could manage the two shelves of merchandise by myself, I just didn’t really want to. Then, all of a sudden, it started pouring outside.

The only reason I knew this was because the pavilion started to get really busy. Guests who were trying to stay out of the rain rushed inside. Of course they all asked where they could buy ponchos, and they all got sent to me. Being the only merchandise shop in The Land meant I was the only place nearby that was selling ponchos. I found a case of ponchos underneath the counter and set them out. It didn’t take long for me to have a line that wrapped around the building. I kid you not, they were lined up from my counter, around the corner, past the bathrooms, to the Cast Member only doors, and looped back around to the counter that offers specialty tours right by Soarin’.

Time flew by. I restocked ponchos and sold them as fast as I possibly could. Every guest was incredibly understanding. They clearly saw that I was the only person working and could only go so fast. The Cast Member that had been with me told me to call for help if I ever needed it, and I was running out of ponchos. I called leadership and they told me nobody was available to come help. My saving grace was a hidden case of ponchos that I found after a guest let me pause to look for them.

The end of my shift was near and no other Cast Members were in sight. I was still selling ponchos and the occasional candy bar like crazy. I hadn’t stepped out from behind the counter in a few hours, but I have to say, it was the best. I live for being that busy. The last half hour of my shift, another Cast Member came up to the counter. Her shift had just started and she asked how long it had been that busy.

“Ever since it started raining a few hours ago.”

She was surprised nobody was helping me. I told her I had called up to leadership, but they told me nobody was available. Then she said, “That’s weird, there’s a leader standing right there.” A leader had just been hanging out by the tours counter, watching me. When we made eye contact, the leader walked over to me. I asked how long they had been standing there.

“The whole time.”

They were pleased with me, but I was a little mad they hadn’t stepped in and helped. After all, there was a chunk of time there where I thought I was out of ponchos and couldn’t find any for a solid few minutes. I didn’t always get along with the leaders at my location, but I will say that quite a few of them consistently stepped in and helped out when it got rough.

The other Cast Member told me to stay on register and she’d go to the stock room to pick up more ponchos. A few moments later, she was back with several more cases and all the guests in line (who had been watching my last pile of ponchos rapidly disappear) audibly sighed in relief. The desperation for $10.01 ponchos in Walt Disney World is VERY real.

That day, the Cast Member working gave me a 4 Keys Card for my hard work. I felt really good about leaving such a positive impression on a new place. After I grabbed everything from the break room, I followed another Cast Member dressed in the land costume out to the bus stop so I wouldn’t get lost on my way back. A short bus ride back to Cast Services and a brief wait in the rain later, I was on the bus back to my apartment. I wasn’t ready to pick up another shift in EPCOT any time soon, but I was glad that it had at least ended on such a fun and busy note. I learned that I don’t do well in slower locations, but I was thankful I had worked in all four parks in Walt Disney World. And, if you want to wear the best Disney shirt ever made, I highly recommend a shift in The Land.

#theland #epcot #futureworld #soarin #greenthumbemporium #merchandisecp #merchandisecm #castmember #wdwcastmember #dcp #disneycollegeprogram #dcpalumni #disneyprograms #disney #savetheearth #lifeasanehhcastmember #ehh

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