#i did make a decent soup for dinner though. cleaned out some old stuff from the back of the fridge/freezer/pantry

[supercantaloupe]

how are you today?

eh. okay i guess. i've spent most of the day attempting but not getting a terrible lot done writing a paper for class due in a couple days

[ask meme]

[planerot]

Radiator Spring residents ranked on how trustworthy they are in the kitchen

(All these are intended to be humanized headcanons, but can be interpreted however you like. Also, quick content warning for food and a brief allusion to mold)

Flo - She literally owns a diner, (I did some googling and turns out, even though it's called Flo's V8 café, it's a diner. The disneyland website describes the IRL version in car's land as a 'Route 66-inspired diner' ) she makes the best food in town no questions asked. She's the one who makes everyone in Radiator Springs their birthday cakes and dinners each year, and has their favorite flavors and foods memorized by heart. If she catches wind that someone in town in feeling under the weather, that person will have a big pot of soup delivered to their doorstep before the end of the day. She is also very good about keeping her workspaces extremely clean due to the health and safety standards that come with running a diner. 10/10, she is the best by a very large margin.

Doc Hudson - During Doc's earlier years, back when he was still racing, he was a very mediocre cooking. He made stuff that was incredibly bland, boring, stupid easy, or a combination of all three. After his accident and moving to Radiator Spring, he was kind of forced to learn to make more interesting meals after eating nothing but mac and cheese, sandwiches, breakfast foods and other such things for a month straight and growing positively sick of it (because we all know his self isolating ass would NOT want to accept any invites to eat or, god forbid, risk accidentally socializing while at Flo's when he was fresh off a life changing crash). He, overtime, forced himself to learn how to actually cook and thus accidentally became one of the most talented cooks in Radiator Springs, second only to Flo.

Guido - He spent a lot of time in a tightknit, small Italian village, living with Mama Topolino, I feel it's very likely he picked up some tips, tricks and recipes during his time there. The vast majority of what he knows how to make is Italian food, but so long as he has a recipe, I think he could make anything.

Luigi - Basically the same as Guido. Only reason I put him below Guido is because he doesn't have the basically super human reflexes and motor control Guido has, thus making him more prone to spills and mess in the kitchen.

Red - The issue with writing any headcanons for Red is that he's more a gag then an actual character. I did a bunch of digging on his wiki page and all of it can be summed up to 'He likes flowers, is a firefigher and incredibly sensitive'...so I worked with that best I could. I think he'd be pretty decent at cooking since firefighters usually take turns cooking for their team, so anyone in that career usually has to learn to cook something actually edible. Red likely learnt how to cook during his very early days of firefighting before he moved to Radiator Springs. His dishes are definitely simpler, but that doesn't mean he can't make some very tasty, filling dishes. He takes enjoyment in serving his food to others and absolutely will burst into tears if someone insults his cooking.

Lizzie - Lizzie is the stereotypical baker grandma. A lot of the recipes she makes are pretty old, but that doesn't make them damn tasty. Her memory issues make baking a bit harder, but she still manages just fine. Baking helps keep her up and moving, even if it's only in her kitchen

Sally - She's never really had a knack for cooking and does her best from what people have taught her through the years. She can make a lot of really good pasta dishes, but other then that she doesn't really excel at anything.

Sheriff - Incredibly average. He's more the type to get food from Flo's or buy prepacked stuff then he is the type to actually make himself anything. When he does actually bother, all the stuff he makes is pretty good but absolutely nothing to write home about. He's more the type of person someone asks to pick up groceries for a meal then actually make the meal.

Fillmore - 100% more a baker then a cook. He first picked up baking to make weed brownies and ended up really enjoying the whole process. His recipes are very hit or miss though since he likes trying to make his desserts more healthy in some way. Sometimes this means they just taste a little off, and sometimes this means they taste like he just tossed sugar and cocoa powder in a bowl with some dried hay and baked it. He is also a hazard in a kitchen since he sometimes he gets munchies while high and will completely forget stuff in the oven, thus leading to multiple fire alarm scares.

Ramone - God bless his heart, but this man can barely cook. Flo has tried to teach him, but he just cannot seem to quite get it, often burning things, adding to much seasoning or accidentally forgetting ingredients. He loves spending time with Flo in the kitchen, so he gets relegated to vegetable peeling or pot stirring, which he very happily does because it means he gets to hang out with his amazing wife. The one thing he does excellent at is decorating. It took him a couple tries to get the technique down, but he is an amazing cake decorator, his years of painting cars meaning he has a scarily steady hand and very keen artistic eye. Flo always lets him decorate the cupcakes/cakes when she makes them for people's birthdays and they always turn out gorgeous.

Sarge - The issue with Sarge is that he refuses to toss anything out. He isn't good at cooking at all. That man does not give a shit how black his scrambled eggs are or how his chicken wings could probably be used as bricks, he will eat them. Whenever someone asks why he eats obviously terrible food, he just says something about how this is nothing compared to how terrible food was in the military. He's grown an iron stomach and hates wasting food even when it would probably be better for his health just to toss out the suspiciously fuzzy loaf of bread.

Lightning - He has mostly lived his adult life living off of fast food, microwave dinners, canned soup and whatever he can eat when people invite him over for dinner. He could probably be a very competent chef if he was taught how to, but he is a bit to embarrassed to admit it to someone else.

Mater - Do not let him near a kitchen he WILL burn it down. For the love of god he is clumsy as fuck and will somehow seriously injure himself or anyone if left to his own devices. He likes the idea of cooking for himself and his friends, but in practice it usually ends with either a fire, a hospital visit, or some horrid combination of both.

[kurowrites]

Betting On You - Part II

Hhhhh, this has been frustrating me ever since I wrote part I. Idk, idk.

Previous part

---

Wei Ying and A-Yuan spent a long time in the bathtub, making sure they were all warmed up and clean before they finally stepped out. (Well, were lifted out in the case of A-Yuan.)

Wei Ying picked out the fluffiest towel they owned and wrapped A-Yuan in it, scrubbing him dry.

When he removed the towel, A-Yuan’s hair was sticking up in all directions.

“Look at this little radish!” Wei Ying laughed as he tousled A-Yuan’s hair. “He even has little leaves!”

A-Yuan protested and removed Wei Ying’s hand, but a moment later, he wrapped around Wei Ying’s leg in an attempt to get Wei Ying to dress him.

Technically, A-Yuan was old enough to put on at least the simpler pieces of his clothing on his own, but he hadn’t been feeling well today. Wei Ying, though exhausted himself, didn’t feel it was the right moment to insist on A-Yuan doing it himself, and helped the little radish out. He got out the nice red pyjamas that Wen Qing got him for his last birthday, and wrestled A-Yuan into it.

He had just slipped into a pair of sweatpants himself when the doorbell rang. In a hurry, he grabbed his shirt and clumsily pulled it over his head as he ran to the door of the apartment.

As he should have expected, their wet, soggy laundry and shoes still lay abandoned in front of the door. Wei Ying hastily pushed them to the side as best as he could, so that he could open the door and hide the mountain of dirty clothing behind it, keeping it out of view.

When he opened the door, Lan Zhan stood in the door frame, as stoic, handsome, and well put together as ever. Wei Ying had the nonsensical impulse to check his own appearance to make sure he was decent, but that was a lost case by now. He had barely managed to slip into a shirt, his long hair not brushed out yet.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, a little more breathlessly than he’d intended to.

“Hn,” Lan Zhan replied, and held up a large pot that Wei Ying only noticed when Lan Zhan brought it to his attention. “Soup.”

Wei Ying’s eyes widened. Had Lan Zhan actually made soup for them?

That was… far nicer than anything Wei Ying had expected. He’d maybe expected Lan Zhan to bring over some instant soup or something. But on second thought, Lan Zhan didn’t seem to be the type to eat instant soup. Ever.

“Oh!” Wei Ying cried out, suddenly remembering that he’d been taught manners at some point in his life, instead of just staring dumbly at the pot. Quickly, he waved Lan Zhan into the apartment. “Come in, come in! Please, feel free to join us! It’s very messy right now, but you know how it is. I always need to make sure we’re on time in the morning, so I only really get to clean up at night. Oh, the kitchen is over here, I think the layout is different from your apartment, no? Yours is bigger.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan slowly agreed, after taking off his shoes, careful to evade the sea of water escaping from the bundle of wet clothes behind the door, and stepping into the apartment proper. “I converted one of the rooms into a music room.”

“Right, music teacher,” Wei Ying smiled. “A-Yuan enjoys your music, occasionally. Though we don’t always hear it.”

“The room is soundproofed,” Lan Zhan replied. “I sometimes play with the window open. I apologise.”

“Don’t apologise!” Wei Ying cried as he provided Lan Zhan with a space on his stove to put the pot of soup down. “We enjoy it. Definitely better than the stuff that usually plays on the radio. Or the shit people try to market as ‘appropriate for children.’”

Lan Zhan only hummed in reply, but Wei Ying was almost sure that he looked pleased.

Heh. Even Lan Zhan wasn’t above a little self-satisfaction now and then, apparently.

“Little radish!” he called out. “Come here, Lan Zhan brought us some soup! It’s dinner time!”

A moment later, A-Yuan toddled into the kitchen and firmly attached himself to Wei Ying’s leg. But despite his apparent shyness about the ‘stranger’ standing in his kitchen, he stared up at Lan Zhan with big, curious eyes.

“Say ‘thank you for the meal,’” Wei Ying encouraged him. He might not be the best father out there, but no one could accuse him of not teaching his son some manners. Those that actually made sense, that was.

“Thank you for the meal,” A-Yuan recited obediently, though he remained firmly attached to Wei Ying’s leg and kept looking up at Lan Zhan with what Wei Ying started to suspect was awe.

It was kind of cute, honestly, because A-Yuan didn’t have too many adults in his life, apart from Wei Ying, the staff at the nursery, and rare visits with Wen Qing. It was good to have positive role models in his life, and Lan Zhan was probably as good as they came. It was also a little troubling to Wei Ying, because A-Yuan’s open admiration made Wei Ying feel like he was somehow lacking as a father. It was a ridiculous notion, because he would not want to be like Lan Zhan, but the feeling was there, still. He knew he couldn’t be everything for A-Yuan. But his emotions were not that easily subdued by reason. He knew he wasn’t the ideal choice for an adoptive parent, anyway, and that he would never be a replacement for A-Yuan’s birth parents.

“It is of no consequence,” Lan Zhan replied seriously, startling Wei Ying out of his morose thoughts. “I offered.”

Wei Ying smiled.

“It means a lot to me,” he emphasised, and waddled over to the kitchen cabinets, A-Yuan still attached to his leg. He reached for the soup bowls and started to unload everything onto their dining table.

“Want to eat with us?” he asked Lan Zhan, waving one of the bowls under his nose.

He’d honestly expected Lan Zhan to politely excuse himself and leave at the first opportunity, but to Wei Ying’s surprise, Lan Zhan simply nodded, helped with setting the table, and then sat down to join them during their meal.

And that was how Wei Ying and A-Yuan ended up eating dinner together with Lan Zhan.

It was almost surreal, to have Lan Zhan in this familiar, currently rather messy environment. But it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. On the contrary, Lan Zhan was a strangely nice and surprisingly interesting dinner guest, and Wei Ying suspected that it was due to his presence that A-Yuan was on his best behaviour. Wei Ying didn’t need to remind him even once not to play with his food! If only that happened during all of their meals.  

To be honest, it was not that easy to get Lan Zhan to speak in the beginning, and convince him to tell them stories about his work as a music teacher. But he made his silence up with being an excellent listener, sometimes listening to A-Yuan’s occasionally nonsensical stories with more earnestness than even Wei Ying was able to fake. And Wei Ying had a lot of practice in faking it.

Wei Ying mostly felt grateful for Lan Zhan’s efforts, because it meant that he was off the hook, for once. He could just sit there, eat his soup, grin at Lan Zhan when A-Yuan said something particularly nonsensical, and not worry about the rest.

And when Lan Zhan finally decided to tell them a few stories of his own, both he and A-Yuan listened to him with genuine interest and no small bit of fascination. For such a taciturn man, he was a surprisingly good storyteller. A certain sense of wit shone through his every word that Wei Ying enjoyed greatly, and that had him laughing out loud more than just once.

All too soon, they were finished with their meal, and it was time for A-Yuan to go to bed. A-Yuan had already started to lag at the dinner table, and so brushing his teeth and putting him to bed was a fairly short and painless process that evening, despite the excitement that an unknown guest had brought.

Lan Zhan, on the other hand, had insisted on helping with the clean-up, and so he stayed and assisted Wei Ying with the kitchen even after A-Yuan had been brought to bed and fallen asleep. Wei Ying had to almost physically keep him from doing all of the clean-up, and insisted to wash the dishes himself.

And so they had ended next to each other at the kitchen counter, Wei Ying washing the dishes, and Lan Zhan drying them.

It was an odd situation.

Wei Ying suddenly realised that he had never been alone with Lan Zhan before that moment. Whenever they had met before, it was usually when Wei Ying was going out of their apartment block or returning home with A-Yuan. Their interactions had usually been short and to the point, and Wei Ying had elected to think of Lan Zhan however he pleased.

It hadn’t been like this.

He suddenly felt himself growing shy, which was all kinds of ridiculous, because nothing was different from before. Why was he suddenly having feelings about this?

Luckily, Lan Zhan didn’t seem to notice how the mood in the room had suddenly shifted, and continued to stoically dry the dishes and carefully set them aside once they were properly dried.

When the kitchen was clean and all tasks were finished, Lan Zhan hung up his towel to dry, nodded once to himself, and then announced, “I should head home.”

Wei Ying stifled a sigh of mixed relief and regret, and led Lan Zhan to the door of the apartment.

“Thank you,” he said as Lan Zhan slipped into his shoes. “You were a true lifesaver today. Both with the soup and for keeping A-Yuan company.”

Lan Zhan rose up from tying his shoes (who did that, it was only a few metres to his own apartment) and stretched to his full height (which was impressive, he was taller than Wei Ying). He looked at Wei Ying for several long and agonising (for Wei Ying) moments.

“No need for thanks,” Lan Zhan replied. “I would not have offered if it had been an inconvenience. A-Yuan is a good child.”

Wei Ying couldn’t help the little glow of pride and happiness that rose up in his chest. A-Yuan was the best child, and he was lucky to be his father!

He said as much to Lan Zhan, and unless Wei Ying’s eyes started to play tricks on him now, his enthusiasm was answered by the tiniest little smile.

“Good night, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, that smile still present in the corners of his mouth.

Wei Ying felt he liked when Lan Zhan said his name like that.

And then, Lan Zhan reached out, and gently brushed one messy strand of hair out of Wei Ying’s face.  

“Please make sure to take care of yourself, as well.”

And with that, he turned around and left, the apartment door falling shut silently behind him.

Wei Ying stood in front of the closed entrance door for several dumbfounded moments.

Did that just–

Was that–

Lan Zhan–

He let out a garbled sound, remembered that A-Yuan was asleep, and quickly turned towards the wet clothes still piled up in the entrance.

He wasn’t going to sleep.

Might as well do some washing.

 Dammit.

[toomuchstory-toolittlebrain]

Chapter one: A Near Miss

The rain fell hard and in buckets. It felt like the sky had been storing all its water until this moment and was just now letting it flow. Unfortunately, it chose the worst possible timing.

That’s what Muffin was thinking at least.

It caused her to slip across the split pavement of the once bustling city streets as she ran. The thing causing her to run was a gang of raiders who spotted her searching for food that had been left behind in houses. The rain was slowing them too but not as much as she hoped. She needed to put some space between her and the gang if she wanted to get back to base since it wasn’t exactly built to withstand the might of angry raiders. Thinking as quickly as she could, she grabbed a lamppost and used her momentum to swing around it and down the next street. A few of the raiders got tripped up as they were going too fast to turn that quickly but there were still a decent amount on her tail.

“Damnit!” She hissed, looking around for any other way to slow the rest down.

Unfortunately, the universe had yet to pity her and instead gave her a giant building in the middle of her path. A quick scan of the area revealed that there wasn’t anywhere else to go. She groaned and reached into the sheaths attached to her legs. Really didn’t want to use these. She thought as she removed the two daggers stored in the sheaths. Hanzel had made them for her as she didn’t have much to defend herself with other than a few sparse self defense tricks.

“Nowhere to run now you little nuisance.” One of the raiders said, signalling the rest to block off the road they came from.

“Good thing I’m no longer in the mood to run then.” She returned.

She clicked a button on the handle of one dagger, causing it to extend while pressing another on the other one that formed a shield around it. The raiders seemed to falter a bit at this before remembering that they had the number advantage they had and charging her. She caught the fist of one, twisting it at a painful angle before kicking them in the stomach before quickly raising her shield to block a blow from another raider's hammer. She made a few swipes at some of them, mostly going for the legs to try and slow them down or incapacitate them. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the same treatment and nearly got a limb or two hacked off.

Still outnumbered and running out of energy, she smacked the base of one dagger's handle and shook out a capsule. It hit the ground with a quiet clink and she stomped on it, causing it to erupt in a cloud of yellow tinted gas. She immediately pulled up her mask, not wanting to inhale whatever dangerous gas that had been packed in there before smashing one of the fallen building's windows and jumping in. She made her way through what appeared to have once been an office, jumping flipped tables and other debris. She eventually reached the other side of the building and shattered the window there before climbing through and finally removing her mask.

The rain still fell in droves and chilled Muffin to the bone but she knew she needed to press on if she wanted to warm up. With that reminder, she set off at a quick pace towards the base.

---

It took her a while but she eventually reached their base which was, in the simplest terms, a glorified treehouse.

Nep had begged them to move out of their old shack that Muffin had built and after some hard work, they put the base together using whatever materials they had.

Speaking of the little gremlin…

“HALT STRANGER!” A voice from the treehouse called, “STATE YOUR NAME AND BUSINESS OR FACE IMMEDIATE PUNISHMENT!”

“It’s me Nep!” Muffin called back, “You don’t need to do this every time!”

“AND WHO MAY THIS ‘ME’ BE?”

Muffin let out an exasperated sigh, “Nep I swear if you don’t let down the ladder RIGHT NOW you are in SO much danger when I get up there!”

“Fine, fine!” Nep responded, “Just chill out on the threats!”

With that, a rope ladder descended from a platform up above the trees which Muffin grabbed and began climbing.

She grabbed the top rung and a gloved hand reached out, “Need a hand there?”

“Finally willing to help, I see?” Muffin responded and grabbed the hand.

She was brought up to face their resident scout and mechanic, Nep. No one really knew what their old name was other than Hanzel but neither of them really talked about their life before the apocalypse so it was never brought up. Nep was helpful when it came to getting into small spaces or climbing up to something the others couldn’t get to. They were nimble and quick witted which gave them an advantage when it came to looking for possible dangers.

“Oh no need to be so grumpy,” Nep responded, “you know I just like messing with you.”

“Put a sock in it shorty.” Muffin said.

“Whatever mom.” They said.

Muffin sighed, “I thought we all agreed to pretend those code names never happened…”

“I don’t remember agreeing to anything.”

Muffin couldn’t help the annoyed groan that escaped her, “I can’t believe I put up with you people.”

“You can ponder your reasons for living in a treehouse with two scientists and a gremlin later, right now you need to get out of those clothes and warm up.” Nep said, shoving Muffin into the treehouse.

“Sitting in front of the fire for a few hours doesn’t sound too bad right now…” Muffin mused, allowing herself to be pushed into their base.

Right as the door opened, it was slammed shut, surprising the two stuck outside.

“The treehouse is currently closed for repairs, come back later!” Someone called from inside before yelping, followed by a loud crash.

“HANZEL WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!” Nep shouted, banging on the door, “And open this door! We’re freezing out here!”

“WORKING ON IT!” Hanzel yelled and a few dull thuds were heard before everything fell silent.

After a moment, the door swung open, revealing a very disheveled man.

“Sorry for the delay, “He said, “Millicent and I were just testing out a new invention.”

“How much did you break this time?” Muffin asked.

“Depends on what you consider broken.” He said, gesturing for them to come in.

The inside was a disaster. Broken glass and screws littered the wood floors. Amongst the mess was Millicent, scrambling to pick everything up.

“Before you say anything, I blame Hanzel!” She said.

“HEY!” Said scientist cried indignantly.

They began bickering and Muffin couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. Hanzel and Millicent were the smartest of their group. Eccentric, but certainly smart. Hanzel liked to create devices for the other three and Millicent was drawn more towards chemical related science. They got into a lot of fights but always made up quickly. It was a cycle for them really, get into a fight, explain themselves, and help each other finish some half baked plan as an apology. Currently, they seemed to have gone from apology right back to fighting.

“Knock it off you two.” Muffin cut in before they got too angry, “We can clean it up later, right now we can just have some dinner and ignore the monster storm going on outside.”

“Speaking of outside,” Millicent said, her argument with Hanzel quickly forgotten, “did you happen to find anything?”

Muffin shook her head, “No, raiders got to me before I could find anything. It was a nightmare to get them off my tail but the stuff you guys gave me definitely came in handy.”

“Bummer,” Nep said, “welp, let’s see what we’ve got for dinner tonight.”

Along with being the scout and mechanic, Nep was also the most adept at cooking. Whenever the other three tried to make anything it either came out mushy or burnt. They poked around the fridge a bit before coming out with some meat Muffin salvaged from someone else’s campsite and some random vegetables.

“Soup it is!” They declared and got to work.

“While they do that, I’m gonna go shower and get out of these soaked clothes.” Muffin said, “Honestly, I could almost skip the shower and just stand outside for a couple minutes.”

She walked off towards her room and left the other three to do as they pleased. Hanzel and Millicent began their argument again and Nep resigned to getting dinner prepared. It was honestly quite calm considering their circumstances. In some ways, they all got lucky. In others, their luck failed them. For example, both Hanzel and Nep were essentially ground zero for the infection and they both had the proof. A small portion of Nep’s right side was visibly infected while Hanzel’s leg used to be in a similar state. Unfortunately, his got too bad too fast he lost the leg.

Thankfully however, he managed to fashion a prosthetic with Millicent’s help. It wasn’t anything fancy at first but over time, he made it more effective and surprisingly useful. The two learned to manage the infection in their own ways, one of which being a formula Millicent cooked up that helped make the virus dormant as long as it was taken regularly. Millicent and Muffin didn’t get out unscathed either though. Muffin has more scars than she can count, most of which being from fights with raiders and the occasional wild animal. Millicent has a multitude of chemical burns from experiments gone wrong and an unfortunate encounter with a raider that got ahold of some of her chemicals.

But despite all these problems, they all managed to make due with what they had. It wasn’t an easy life, but it could be harder as well. So they took care of each other and made sure that they would always be there for one another.

[eyebrowluv]

Continuing This: https://eyebrowluv.tumblr.com/post/612157189295095808/tall-blonde-with-one-sugar-35-yeah-and-i-saw

“That makes no sense, Erwin.”

“It makes perfect sense. If I don’t get this job, I’m moving back home because I can’t afford to stay otherwise.” Erwin held up a hand. “And before you say something ridiculous, I refuse to stay with you and not contribute in some way. If I get the job, I’ll move my stuff in tomorrow. If not, then it will be easier for you to return everything.”

“Are you always so difficult?” Levi rubbed his temple, a major headache forming after a long day of debate.

“No. I’m just trying to be an adult here. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone in any way.”

“If I didn’t want to help you, I wouldn’t. Period.” Levi grabbed Erwin’s duffle bag. “If you don’t get this job tomorrow, and that’s a big fucking if, there’s other jobs you can apply for. Just call it a deferment in payment. Only I won’t charge interest.”

“I can’t do that,” Erwin argues, grabbing for his bag.

“I’m not really asking at this point, Erwin,” Levi scolded as he sidestepped the taller man. “You’re moving your shit in...now, right now.” Levi held the bag to his chest and left the apartment.

“Levi, wait! I didn’t have a chance to pack yet. That bag is empty!”

“Well, fuck.”

— —

“I left the keys to the Audi on the counter last night.” Erwin jumped at the sound of Levi’s voice as the sleek black Mercedes pulled up beside him. “You know, so you wouldn’t have to walk from downtown.”

“But it’s your car. What if I wrecked it or something scratched it?”

“That’s why I have insurance,” Levi reminded. “Get in the car. I can’t always drive by at the right time. Take the car next time.”

“But Levi-“

“But nothing. Take it or I’ll just buy you a new one.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Erwin protested as he slid into the passenger seat.

“Try me,” Levi warned with a glare.

“Fine,” Erwin sighed in defeat.

“So, how did the interview go?”

“I start Monday. I actually interviewed with Judge Pixis himself. Rico said that he was so impressed by me that he is going to pay me more than he originally posted and he wants me to work full time during breaks.”

“I’m not usually one to say ‘I told you so,’ but…”

“Fine, you were right, but-“

“But nothing. I know Rico. She doesn’t lie and is brutally honest. If she said Pixis was impressed, he was impressed. Congratulations, Erwin. We’ll go out to dinner later to celebrate.” Levi’s face softened, and Erwin could almost swore he saw a smile. He almost hated to disappoint him.

“Sorry, Levi, but I really can’t afford to eat out just yet. I’ll take a rain check, though. After I get my first paycheck, we’ll go out.” Erwin was not prepared for the smack to the back of his head that propelled him forward, almost causing him to hit his head on the dash. “Ow, Levi!”

“You won’t be paying for anything. That is not how this is going to work,” Levi growled. “We will go home, I’ll sleep, and you will contact your professors regarding any makeup assignments, and we will go out to dinner tonight.”

“Just like that,” Erwin snorted.

“Yeah, Blondie. Just like that.” Levi looked over with a cocky smirk, and Erwin’s heart skipped a beat.

And with that, Levi won this battle.

“Okay, we’ll go to dinner.”

— —

“Levi, I’m not so sure about this place. It looks awfully expensive,” Erwin said as he watched Levi hand the valet his keys. The blond looked at the building nervously, trying to tuck into himself, trying to become less noticeable.

“We’re celebrating. What else did you expect? A drive-thru?” Levi gently grasped his elbow. “Now come on.”

“But Levi-“

“What? What is wrong with you?” Levi turned to look at him fully.

“I don’t want to embarrass you. I’ve never eaten at a place this nice, Levi. My idea of a nice dinner is a franchise steakhouse.”

“It’s just a restaurant, Erwin. Unless you strip naked and eat off the floor with your bare hands, you’re not going to embarrass me.”

“I try not to be naked in front of other people if I can help it.”

Levi snorted. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

— —

“You’re the worst sugar daddy ever,” Mike announced.

“Hey!”

“Or he’s the worst sugar baby ever. I haven’t decided yet.” Mike grabbed a salad from the cooler. “I mean he basically told you that there was no way in hell you were going to get him naked. He does understand what a sugar daddy is, right?”

“Tche.” Levi wrinkled his nose at the soup selection, but poured himself a bowl of corn chowder anyway. “I’m not certain that he even knows that I’m trying to be his sugar daddy.”

“Well, that’s on you, my friend. Are you bringing him to the Casino Night fundraiser this weekend? Maybe I can pull him to the side-“

“Please, don’t even speak to him. I don’t want him to know that I associate with you.”

“Levi, you’re so mean. You might want to wipe that sour look off your face or he’ll never sleep with you.”

“Fuck you, Zacharius.”

“Nah, that’s why you have your little boy toy.”

— —

Levi was mulling over Mike’s assessment of his sugar daddy prowess as he turned the lock of his apartment door. He did notice that it smelled of clean laundry and...chocolate chip cookies? He toed off his shoes and padded toward the kitchen.

What. The. Hell?

Levi always knew that Erwin had a decent ass. He didn’t exactly flaunt it, but the cut of his jeans gave just enough of a hint. He thought he would be prepared for the moment he got to see said ass, but he was mistaken, so sadly mistaken. Because there was Erwin’s ass, encased in skin tight boxer briefs, wiggling around his kitchen to a song about lovely lady lumps. Song choice aside, it was almost a religious experience. Levi was ready to lay down an altar and worship that ass.

Holy Shit!

He wasn’t going to survive this boy. He was too old to experience things that made his heart beat that hard and that fast. Erwin was going to give him a heart attack. Why wasn’t he wearing clothes???

“Check it out,” Erwin sang (horribly off-key), and turned to find Levi standing there, staring. Staring at his chest, his sculpted abs…

‘Good god, Levi, don’t look lower!’

Too late.

And hot damn!

“Levi! You’re home early,” Erwin said with a smile, oblivious of the fact that Levi had just been staring at the bulge in his underwear...the very prominent bulge. Those boxer briefs really left nothing to the imagination.

“Levi? You okay? Rough day?”

“It’s fine, I’m fine. Just a long day,” Levi finally managed to say.

“I’ve done laundry and made some cookies. It’s just pre-made dough, but I’m hardly a chef. I haven’t started dinner yet because I didn’t think you would be home for another couple of hours.”

“No, it’s fine. I...I think...I’m going to take a shower, and I’ll help with dinner.” He had to pull it together. Erwin was looking at him like he was losing his mind.

“Sounds good. We’ll do something simple tonight, then. You look exhausted.” Erwin smiled brightly.

Great, Levi thought. He was thirsty for his roommate and Erwin thought he was just tired. Maybe Mike was right. He was a terrible sugar daddy.

— —

“So...how is it?”

“How is what?” Erwin looked up from his laptop to find Hange grinning at him maniacally.

“The sex? You can’t be a prude all of the time, so spill.”

“Uh...I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just who do you think I’ve had sex with? I haven’t had sex since Marie and I broke up.”

“What?” Hange gaped for a moment, open and closing their mouth, too confused to utter a word. “You’re joking...HA! You almost had me fooled.”

Erwin raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you’re serious,” Hange crumpled. “Wait...you’re serious? What the hell?”

“What? I think I’m missing something.”

“Erwin, to be so smart, you are so incredibly dumb sometimes,” Hange groaned and leaned back in their seat.

“Hey!”

“No, really. I can’t believe that you’re so blind, or naive.”

“What are you going on about, Hange?”

“Levi, you dumb blond! You know, your sugar daddy.”

“My what? Wait, what? Are you saying-“

“There’s no such thing as a free lunch, my beautiful boy. Econ 101. I’ve seen the way that man looks at your ass. He’s just not doing this out of the kindness of his heart. I mean, he probably is to a certain extent, because he’s not heartless. And let’s face it, he’s probably not hurting for dates-“

“Hange, your point.”

“Oh, yeah. He wants to get you in bed with him, and he’s willing to support you financially to do it. Like I said, he’s your sugar daddy.”

“He’s never said anything about...repayment.” Erwin’s face scrunched in thought. “Does that make me a prostitute? Am I doing something illegal? I work for a judge, Hange.”

“Calm down. A relationship with an older, more financially stable man is not illegal. He not paying to have sex with you. He’s in a relationship with you and making sure all your needs and wants are being met.” Hange threw a paper ball at Erwin.

“Isn’t that basically the same thing? Am I taking advantage of him? Am I that desperate?” Erwin’s moral dilemma was obviously causing him to spiral, so Hange grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently.

“Answer me this: Are you attracted to Levi? I don’t want you to brush me off like you always do. I want an honest answer.”

“Well, yeah. He’s...so damn hot.”

“Do you like him on a personal level?”

“Of course.”

“You already know that he has some sort of attraction and emotional investment in you. The man threatened to buy you a car just so you can get work on time. He was appalled by the idea of you living in a dirty cheap hotel in a dead end town. He cares for you.” Hange loosened her grip. “Now the question is: do you think you can care for him, too?”

“I do care for him, and I’m attracted to him, but-“

“But what, Erwin?”

“What if he’s disappointed?” Erwin blushed.

“Disappointed? With what?”

“Sex. With me.” Erwin blew out an exasperated breath. “I’m not good at it, Hange. I’ve told you before, I’m awkward as hell. I haven’t slept with another man since undergrad, and it wasn’t great. Not that I’m any better with women. I mean, Marie couldn’t find someone else fast enough.”

“That’s because Marie is a slut and doesn’t deserve you.” Erwin looked unconvinced. “Seriously, though. Think about it. Levi’s an older man. He probably is a better lover than Frodo-“

“Flagon.”

“Whatever,” Hange waved off. “He might show you some things that will change your mind about sex and your insecurities. It’s not like he’s going to laugh at you, Erwin.”

“No, but he may never want to sleep with me again, and then he will realize that I’m a bad investment and cut his losses to find someone he really deserves. Not some stupid kid who can’t pay his own way or suck a dick.”

“Wow. You are spiraling. Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this conversation to upset you.” Hange laid their head on Erwin’s shoulder. “I just wish you could see you how everyone else sees you. We love you, Erwin. And I think, if you gave him a chance, Levi will love you, too. But you got to love yourself enough to know you deserve it.”

“I’ll think about it.”

And Erwin did think about it. All night, he tossed and turned, mulling it over in his head. It wasn’t until the sun was peeking through the curtains and the sound of Levi shuffling in the kitchen before he made his decision.

[hermannsthumb]

Your writing is amazing!! I’ve been super homesick recently so if you’re still taking fall prompts would you consider doing one where after PR they get to go back to the northeast and Newt gets to have a proper fall for the first time in years. (Not a lot of hay rides and pumpkin patches in Hong Kong) THANK YOU!!!

Anonymous said: Hellomst :) Can I please request 28 and 29 (with possibly some 30 thrown in if you can manage it) for the Autumn Fic Meme you reblogged? (For Newmann ofc :) ) We don't get cold weather over here(currently it's 90 with 82% humidity....) so I gotta live that fall life vicariously

from autumn fic meme here: 28. flannel shirt + 29. hiking (and unofficially: bedsharing and huddling for warmth eyes emoji)

& of course @problemwithtrouble​!!! prefacing this by saying: @k-sci-janitor​ and i did a little collab fic with basically this plot back in march, newt and hermann taking a road trip around new england to look at the changing leaves, so if you want a LONG version of this idea feel free to check that out here

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

“Smell that,” Newt says. “Do you smell it?”

"Smell what?” Hermann says.

Newt puts his hands on his hips and takes a long whiff--of the fresh mountain air, of the dying leaves, of plain and simple dirt--and smiles. “Nature, dude. Fall. Fucking fantastic.”

Hermann, meanwhile, wrinkles his nose and takes special care to tuck it beneath his scarf, then takes special care to tuck that into the flannel he borrowed off Newt. He’s been whining about his allergies since they set out this morning and whining about being cold even longer. “Decay,” he says, voice muffled. “Mold. Death.”

“Pretty leaves,” Newt counters.

Hermann shuts up while Newt helps him over a particularly large root and around a felled tree, but the second Newt’s hand slips away from his arm and he’s left to fend for himself once more, it’s back to complaining. “When’s the trail meant to end, anyway?” he says, breath rising up in small white puffs. “I’m starved.”

“I told you to pack a lunch,” Newt says, because he did, about fifty times. (I’ve just eaten breakfast, Hermann said with a little sniff. I’ll be fine.) “I told you you’d get hungry.”

“I didn’t realize we’d be out all day!” Hermann snaps.

It’s only been an hour. They left for their hike at eleven sharp on the easiest trail possible (no incline, a nice, easy, flat loop around the park lake, beginning and ending right by their rented cabin), and they’re already halfway finished. They can’t have more than another hour ahead of them. Hermann’s managed much longer under much worse conditions willingly, and it’s not as if he didn’t have the choice to let Newt go alone. He’s the one that insisted on coming. Still--the more well-fed Hermann is, the less likely it is he’ll annoy the shit out of Newt for that hour and the hours following when they get home. (Newt can already picture Hermann hovering over his shoulder and making snide remarks while Newt tries to cook dinner.)

He fishes an apple from his backpack and tosses it over; Hermann catches it. “Here, just take mine. I made a sandwich too.” He waves his reusable sandwich box. “You want it?”

“What sort of sandwich?” Hermann says, narrowing his eyes.

“Fluff and Nutella,” Newt says.

Hermann makes a face. “The apple is satisfactory.”

“It must be hard to have no taste,” Newt says, and digs into the sandwich himself.

Hermann stops complaining after that, and Newt is left--in peace--to enjoy the scenery and the simple knowledge of it being autumn. He hasn’t had a proper autumn in years. Not since MIT. Maybe not even since before the kaiju. He still decorated the lab for Halloween every year and donned dumb costumes, of course, tracked down as much artificial pumpkin-flavored junk he could find, but it just wasn’t the same. No hay rides. No pumpkin patches. No changing leaves anywhere within decent distance. He explained as much to Hermann when he talked him into this little excursion in the first place: they deserve a good nostalgia-fueled autumn, and together, at that.

Last week, he took Hermann on a hay ride to a pumpkin patch, and they carved pumpkins for their tiny front stoop on the floor of their equally tiny kitchen. (Hermann claimed he’d never done it before, but his design kicked Newt’s design’s ass by about one thousand percent.) The week before that, he sat Hermann down for a good old-fashioned horror movie marathon and threw popcorn at him each time he tried to critique the logic or explain how the science really wasn’t all that accurate. This week, he’s tossed a disgusting amount of his PPDC savings at a log cabin rental in the middle of scenic, autumnal nowhere and only managed to talk Hermann into accompanying him under very select conditions: one, Newt would foot the entire bill, two, Hermann could have the big bed, and three, he’d swear to leave Hermann alone for at least an hour every day to read or knit or brood or whatever the fuck it is Hermann does in his kaiju-free time these days.

Newt agreed to the conditions. Mostly. Half an hour seems more than enough time for Hermann to chill alone, is all.

“Look,” he says. He stops and points through a break in the trees, where the mountainside is newly visible on the horizon: the treetops form a swaying, vibrant blanket of red-orange-yellow that seems to stretch on forever. It’s beautiful. Newt whips out his phone and snaps a quick photo of Hermann framed against it and privately considers having it framed.

"’S just a load of trees,” Hermann grumbles, but Newt catches the ghost of a smile on his face as he turns away.

Dinner is an uninteresting affair of canned clam chowder Newt heats up over the shitty electric stove with no small amount of difficulty. Only one burner is working, and it seems to have doubled in inefficiency since last night. “I’m starting to think we should’ve just gone into town for dinner,” he calls to Hermann from the kitchen; Hermann looks up from his crossword puzzle, eyes owlish behind his glasses, cheeks rosy from the fire he’s nestled himself in front of. He’s still in Newt’s flannel. “Gotten Chinese or something.” He pokes at a lump of clam with the end of a warped plastic stirring spoon. “Ugh.”

“It’s soup,” Hermann says. He bustles in to shove Newt aside and deal with it himself. “How hard can it possibly be?”

“Don’t push me--”

“I’m not pushing, you moron, I’m--”

“It’s the fucking stove,” Newt says. “It’s, like, eighty years old. It’s--”

“Then use a different burner--”

They get the chowder heated up eventually. Hermann takes more than his fair share of both it and the sleeve of saltines Newt cracks open, and when he’s finished, feigns sleep back by the fire so he doesn’t have to help Newt with the dishes. “You’re making breakfast tomorrow,” Newt says, kicking the foot of Hermann’s rocking chair.

Hermann doesn’t even crack an eye when he tries to trip Newt with the end of his cane. Jerk.

After he gets dinner cleaned up, Newt pulls a blanket over his lap and curls up comfortably in the second rocking chair at Hermann’s side. He’s contemplating getting up and finding his stash of s’more stuff for dinner round two (which would be a much more satisfying dinner) when Hermann startles him by patting his hand. “Thank you for cooking,” Hermann says, stiffly and awkwardly, while Newt blinks. “I...appreciate it.”

“Oh,” Newt says. Lately, Hermann’s been working on communicating his emotions better in methods that don’t involve just shouting at Newt. This is probably part of it. Yesterday, he clapped Newt’s shoulder just as stiffly in thanks for driving them here. “No problem.” Newt smiles.

“Or,” Hermann says. “Your attempts at making us dinner, I should say.”

“Ah,” Newt says. Yeah, that makes more sense.

“Seeing as I had to step in--”

“I get it,” Newt says. “Thanks, Hermann.”

He gets another rare Gottliebian smile, though this one seems slightly more amused than the last, and Hermann pats his hand again before pulling away. “What do you have in mind for tomorrow afternoon?” he says. He slips his glasses back on and resumes his puzzle. “The old quarry? A drive into town?”

Newt saw a signpost for the abandoned quarry when they were driving up to their cabin yesterday. It’s only a ten minute hike away. He doubts there’s anything substantial worth studying left in there, maybe some larger chunks of that dusty red rock he’s been finding around, but it could be fun to play geologist for a day nonetheless and show off in front of Hermann. On the other hand--there’s a harvest festival in the town tomorrow, which they also saw a sign for, and Newt’s never been one to pass up rides and junk food. He bets he could even coerce Hermann into getting on a ferris wheel with him. “Whatever you want,” Newt concedes.

Hermann nods. “We ought to wait and see what we’re in the mood for tomorrow.”

Newt watches him fill out another few clues, lulled into a strange relaxation by the crackling of the fire and the scratch of Hermann’s pencil. Hermann himself. Hermann is always unfairly cute when he’s lost in thought like this: he fiddles with his glasses, he frowns, he hms under his breath, he mutters things like no and maybe and it could be to himself. He used to do the same in the lab at his chalkboard. “Forty-two down is spelled wrong,” Newt says. (A strand of Hermann’s hair is sticking up funny. He wants to smooth it down.) “It should be an E, not an A like you have.”

“So it should be,” Hermann says. He fixes it. “I must’ve written it in a hurry. Thank you, Newton.”

“Mmhmm,” Newt says. 

It’s all very domestic. Newt thinks he’d like to get used to it.

Hermann takes the big bed again that night as per their agreement. It’s full-sized and lumpy, with a quilt that looks at least a hundred years old, and it sags so deeply in the center Newt is half-worried Hermann will sink down into it and never be seen again. Newt himself takes the small twin bed in the loft above. There’s no central heating, just the fireplace, and it’s a bit of a pain to hustle up and down the stairs to toss on more logs when the fire starts to die, but it sure as fuck beats shivering to death. Or being bitched at by Hermann to death. “They have luxury cabins,” Hermann says, cacaooned in a blanket and watching Newt stoke tonight’s fire, “with bathtubs with jets, and working stoves, and radiators, and yet you’ve condemned us to--”

“Stop whining,” Newt says. He hefts another log onto the fire and has to dodge the resulting spray of sparks. “It’s about the experience. Luxury cabins are for wusses.”

“Hmph,” Hermann declares.

Newt’s woken up three hours later by three things: the intense shivers that wrack his body, the realization that the fire’s gone out, and the heavy pounding of rain on the roof. On the leaky roof. A droplet of water hits Newt’s forehead. Newt curses, louder than he intends, and rolls out of bed to his socked feet. Another raindrop hits his shoulder.

“Newton?” Hermann hisses.

“Sorry,” Newt hisses back. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. Go back to bed.”

“You didn’t,” Hermann says. Normal volume. “I was already awake. It’s cold.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Newt sighs. He tugs a sweater on over his head--the only sweater he owns--and slips down the creaking staircase. “I’ll do up the fire again.”

Or he would’ve, anyway, if their stockpile of logs wasn’t totally used up. Hermann apparently stayed up longer than he did and had been steadily tending to the fire the whole time. A quick foray out to the woodpile confirms Newt’s suspicions: the protective roof didn’t manage to save the other logs from the wind-blown rain, and they’re all totally soaked. Completely unusable. “I should’ve just grabbed more after dinner,” Newt says, kicking off his muddy docs. He finds Hermann crouching at the hearth in front of the pitiful ashy embers with two of Newt’s flannels and the quilt from the bed pulled on. “We’re kinda screwed.”

Hermann mumbles out a stream of curses and something that sounds suspiciously like the luxury cabins would’ve had dry wood. Newt drops down next to him and also tucks himself beneath the quilt. “Do you want to borrow one of my blankets?” he says. “I have an extra up in the loft.”

“You’re getting me wet,” Hermann sniffs, but he shifts the blanket over to give Newt more of it. He’s shivering pretty badly. The guy needs some insulation, man.

“Okay,” Newt says, nursing another thought. “What if we double up?”

This makes Hermann freeze. “Double up?”

“You,” Newt says, “me, together, in your bed. It’ll be warmer.” He grins. “I’ve been told I’m a very good cuddler.” He snakes an arm around Hermann’s waist and squeezes it just to make his point. Hermann jumps.

“Ah,” he says. It could just be a trick of the low light (the single lamp they’ve turned on is resting on the bedside table across the room), but Newt could swear he’s blushing. “Well. That’d be--you don’t have to.”

“It’s no problem,” Newt says, and then lies, because he, on the other hand, can generally get by with his own natural insulation, probably even tonight if he tosses on an extra sweatshirt, “You’d be keeping me warm too. Symbiosis. It’s biology.”

“How scientific,” Hermann says.

“Also,” Newt says, “the roof’s kinda leaking above my bed.”

“Ah.”

Hermann surprises him by automatically adopting the position of little spoon when they slip under the covers. In Newt’s occasional fantasies of sharing a bed with Hermann--occasional, very occasional, he’ll admit to that--Hermann has always been the opposite. He’s got those gangly skinny limbs, you know, perfect to wrap around Newt like a bony octopus. It seems like a shame to waste them. Tonight is probably just a special case. “You’re like a bloody hot water bottle,” Hermann declares after ten minutes.

“Who the fuck still uses hot water bottles?” Newt says against his neck. “Are you some Victorian dandy?”

Hermann bristles. “They’re perfectly common.”

“They’re one step up from tossing a bunch of coals in a pan and calling it a day,” Newt says. “Just buy a space heater. They cost, like, twenty bucks.”

“Fire hazards,” Hermann says.

“You can have mine,” Newt says.

Hermann pinches his arm. “Shut up. I’m trying to sleep.”

“Dick,” Newt says.

He snuggles a little closer to Hermann anyway. Lack of fire and Hermann’s bony elbows aside--between their combined layers of blankets, the gentle rise and fall of Hermann’s chest against his arm, and the patter of rain on the roof, Newt’s feeling pretty damn cozy. Even Hermann’s stopped shivering. (Newt could definitely get used to this.)

Before he can help himself, he plants a small kiss to the borrowed plaid fabric at Hermann’s shoulder, then follows it up with a gentle nuzzle against his neck. “Mm. G’night, Hermann.”

“Goodnight,” Hermann says, oddly breathless. He curls his fingers through Newt’s.

[h-styles-babes]

Bad Habit

I may have...uh...written a thing. I was listening to Bad Habit by The Kooks, and I got inspired. So, this little diddy is very loosely based off the song and music video. I couldn’t get this scenario out of my head, and this is what came of it. I know I promised some one shot requests and some work on the new fic that I’m working on, but this just...grabbed me and wouldn’t let go, ya know? I was merely a victim in the making of this. So, I hope you all enjoy ;) xx

“Yeh comin’ out with us for a drink tonight? We’re meeting Carrie at Fitz’s.”

Vivian shook her head, stuffing her frozen hands into her jacket pockets. It was Thursday night, after their last lecture of the evening. None of them had class the next day, so Thursdays were their typical party nights. Viv would usually be eager to join her mates, but she had other plans that didn’t include being in a crowded pub. Her laptop was to be her companion that night, and that was more than enough for her. Especially with the content it would be allowing her to view. 

“I’m gonna have a night in. Give myself a break from last week. Christ knows my liver could use it.”

“Last weekend was rough,” Teddy agreed. “I woke up cuddled to fuckin’ Liam, vomit on me shirt, and a hand cuff on only one wrist.” He shuddered like the memory gave him the chills.

“Kinky,” Viv snickered. 

“That was a good cuddle, though, wasn’t it?” Liam defended. “I was cosy.” “We just gonna ignore the vomit and handcuff I mentioned?”

“I honestly don’t even know how that happened,” Viv reflected. “I swear I was with you two until we fell asleep that night.”

“Teddy and I went out after we got you into bed,” Liam said. “Think we ran into a couple birds at a pub a few blocks over.”

“Well, it was Halloween weekend. Was one of ‘em dressed as a police woman?”

“Oh my god! That’s right!” Teddy exclaimed, smacking his palm to his forehead. “That redhead was a sexy officer. That’s definitely where the handcuffs came from.”

“And I’m pretty sure her friend was the one who got the vomit on your shirt,” Liam said with a definitive nod. 

“Well, as fun as this little flashback has been, this is where I get off,” Viv announced, even though the two boys knew full well where she lived. Since they were in their second year, Viv was able to get a flat just off campus by herself. It was just a studio thing, but it served its purpose, and she was glad to be out of student housing. While she’d enjoyed having a roommate,—who was the aforementioned Carrie that she’d formed a strong friendship with—she didn’t so much enjoy not having private space and having to share a loo with twenty other girls. She had to maintain a part-time job in order to pay for her rent and food, but it was well worth it to have her own space. 

“We’ll be at Fitz’s if yeh change your mind,” Teddy shouted to her as she mounted the stairs to take her two her second-level flat. 

“I’m stayin’ in, I promise. I’ll see yeh this weekend.”

The two boys waved at her as a goodbye and sent their well wishes of a good night. They were still in sight when Viv finally shut her door and locked it behind her. 

The flat was a warm reprieve from the autumn chill outside. She didn’t have to turn her heat on much, since her large windows allowed in enough light during the day to keep the old building warm into the evening. Well, that was when the sun was out enough. Luckily, that day had been mostly free of clouds, so Viv didn’t think twice about shucking her coat and boots and just bustling around her flat in her jumper and leggings. She got her laptop booted up as she went about making herself a cuppa and rummaging around for something to eat. She’d gone grocery shopping at the beginning of the week, but she still seemed to be a bit awful at the whole meal-making thing. She knew she had the ingredients necessary for a decent meal, she just wasn’t sure how to put it together, really. The kettle was whistling by the time she decided on some soup and a grilled cheese.

So, she made herself a brew while she waited for her chicken noodle soup to heat. She let the bag steep while she buttered some bread and sprinkled some shredded cheese. Within ten minutes, she had herself a proper meal, and she’d just sat down when a little notification popped up on her computer screen. If it had been a week earlier, she’d have been absolutely embarrassed by the sender of the message and the website that it had been sent through, but, as it was, she felt a fluttering in her tummy and stirring between her hips. She still wasn’t exactly proud of her late night escapades, but she didn’t feel the shame she once had. 

The message read that the video would be live in half an hour, so Vivian finished her dinner and cuppa in peace, though the excitement was definitely building within her. She was getting wet just at the thought of what she’d be witnessing in just a few minutes, and if she wasn’t already so far gone, she’d be a little weirded out at herself. But, as it were, she did a little shimmy when there was only five minutes left until the stream started, and she busied herself with washing the dishes she’d used and pouring herself a glass of wine. 

While her sofa was comfy, she decided her bed was a more comfortable place to be, so she hunkered down there, setting her laptop up beside her and opening the webpage she needed. The screen was blank, aside from the ads and recommended videos on the sides, but she knew in a few minutes the most exciting part of her week would be broadcast for her to see. The message sent out as she sat there announced that there was only one more minute until the broadcast went live. She took one last sip of her wine. The username ‘UniBoy94’ was marked as ‘online’ just before the screen flickered to life. That fluttery feeling was back as her newly favourite obsession filled her screen. 

The only sound coming through the speakers were whatever music was playing in the man’s room on the other side of the screen. Vivian noticed the familiar chords of a song that she liked and had just discovered from a more local band she’d actually seen at a bar a few weeks ago. She couldn’t linger on that fact too long, though, because the man took a deep breath, straining his pecs against the soft-looking cotton of his plain grey t-shirt. She could only see him from the neck down, keeping what she could assume were perfect lips from her eyes, though she could imagine his lips were parted as he took his breath. His large hands came into view, his rings adorned on his long fingers. There was a small cross tattoo on his left hand that she was strangely fond of—probably because it was such a conflict with the lascivious acts he did so often for people to watch. 

His right hand snuck up under his shirt and slowly dragged the material up his torso, first revealing the matching laurels tattooed into the dips of his V line. Viv couldn’t help but lick her lips as she watched his shirt ride up higher and higher, exposing his happy trail, belly button, large butterfly tattoo, his pecs. He let his shirt stay there, hooking the hem into his mouth, keeping his face out of view of the camera. His right hand trailed back down his body, slipping his fingers into the waistband of the boxers he was wearing. The rings caught at the elastic band as he continued to drag his hand down, exposing the light patch of hair that weirdly made Viv aroused. She’d never really admit it to anyone, but she liked mens’ body hair in it’s natural state. The man on the other side of the screen kept his pubic area trimmed neat, but he didn’t seem to completely remove any part of it, including where it connected up into his happy trail. Viv was particularly fond of the look. 

His hand abandoned its adventure into his boxers as he sat upright to use both hands to draw his shirt over his head. Viv was glad to see the swallows just below each of his collar bones, as well as all the tattoos that adorned the upper part of his left arm. For the most part, his tattoos were all on that arm, except for one that was on his right forearm. The strange contrast between the two sides of him would seem a bit off to some people, but it pleased the part of Viv that couldn’t decide if she was more attracted to men with tattoos or men that were a clean-skinned. She got both in the mystery man on the other side of the screen. 

Vivian’s breathing sped up as the man leaned forward to type on the computer, his message popping up on the screen once he was finished. 

‘Got a request to use a vibrator. Your wish = my command.’

Viv could have sworn she felt her heart skip a beat. That was her suggestion from Tuesday night’s session. While watching him work his hand over himself, scratch his short nails down his lightly sculpted abs, and thrust his hips up into his slick hand was enough to send her over, she really wanted to see him when there was more stimulation. He was already pretty vocal as it was, grunting when he approached his orgasm and whimpering when something he did felt particularly good, but she could only imagine the noises he’d make if something was vibrating against his cock. 

She wasn’t disappointed.

He peeled the red boxers from his hips, still kneeling on his bed. His cock was already hard, and it bobbed as he sat back to discard the last of the material that was covering him. He settled back into the pillows behind him and reached for something off camera, cock resting against his belly. He had the most impressive dick Viv had ever seen. She admired everything about it, from the length that nearly reached his belly button, the girth that looked like it would offer a nice stretch when he’d enter her, the glistening red tip, to the vein that ran up his length, visibly pulsing when he was particularly aroused. While she’d never encountered it in person, it was what she stacked every other dick up against, but it was hardly fair. UniBoy was the stuff of legends, and she would have thought it was photoshopped if she didn’t know for certain that these little videos of his were broadcasted live. 

He came back with a vibrator in hand, already plugged in somewhere off screen. Not only was it a vibrator, but it was a wand that Viv had seen used in countless porn videos. She was always envious of the people using them, as she could hear the power of the vibrations, even through the shitty speakers of her laptop. She’d always wanted one ever since she knew what a vibrator was, but they were expensive for a vibrator, and the twenty quid one she owned did fine. Maybe when she made more than was enough to pay rent and bills, then she’d buy a fancy one. 

The man wielded the toy in his right hand, clicking it on to what appeared to be the lowest setting. He very slowly touched the bulbous end of the want to the place where the shaft of his cock met his balls, and he automatically tensed, a low moan rumbling through his chest. If Viv had been wet before, she was absolutely dripping now, and he hadn’t even properly touched himself yet. She quickly set her wine on her bedside table and reached under the covers to slip herself out of her sleep shorts and panties. Her left hand lingered over her folds, gently teasing the little bud that peaked out from the center. She was sensitive already, and she could already guess that she wasn’t going to make it through this whole session before cumming. 

He still only hand the wand pressed to his length, his free left hand resting at his chest, tweaking his right nipple every so often. Viv watched as he trailed the head of the device up to the tip of his penis, letting it rest against the underside as he flicked the vibrations to a higher setting. He whimpered, left hand clenching into the skin of his chest as he heaved a bit with the extra stimulation. Viv let her fingers dip between her folds, feeling how absolutely drenched she was for the first time. She’d never been so wet in her life until she’d discovered this boy’s videos. It had started as an innocent scroll through Tumblr, looking at stuff the people she followed posted. In the middle of her posts about weird science facts and cute videos of hairless cats was a very naughty two minute video of a man stroking himself. The film was in black and white, but Viv was immediately taken with the display of tattoos and the way the man’s body reacted to his own ministrations. If she hadn’t been in the library, she would have played the video then and there, but she saved it so she could come back to it later.

When she got home later that evening, she took a scroll through the blog of the person who posted the video. Everything was anonymous, and the man never posted anything of his face or where he was from or what he did outside of making videos. It was obvious he was in uni, just from his username, but outside of that, there was no personal information, not even his first name. She was taken with his videos and the other content of his blog, and she could admit to herself that she’d gotten off to his short snippets of videos more than a few times in the few days she took scouring his blog for content. 

That was a few weeks ago, and somehow she had graduated to actually paying to see his live streams that he’d had advertised on his page. It wasn’t a lot to view a video—only five quid—but she could see the viewer number on the screen, and there was very nearly five thousand people watching. The man made a lot of money masturbating for random people on the internet, and she couldn’t begrudge him that. Honestly, she didn’t understand why she hadn’t thought of that as opposed to working part time at a book store. She’d be making a hell of a lot more money, that’s for sure. 

So, this was how she spent her Tuesday and Thursday nights, now. She wasn’t even upset that she shelled out ten pounds a week for this, because at least she knew she was helping him attend uni and pay for the assumed flat that he lived in. Plus, she stopped having to search through thousands of porn videos when she was horny in order to just find one video that she could actually stand to watch. She had been without a boyfriend for nearly a year now, and her hand wasn’t really cutting it, so the porn was a necessary evil. Now, though, she watched the exact content she wanted to see. And, the fact that she paid to view his videos meant she was able to see all his past videos whenever she pleased. She didn’t think it got much better than that. 

Besides actually having sex with him of course, but that wasn’t very likely to happen.

The man finally pulled the vibrator away from his straining cock to reveal rivulets of precum dripping down his shaft, his head completely red. He let his left hand drift down and used only his first finger and thumb to circle around the head, dragging the slickness down his length. The stroked just like that, ever so slowly for what seemed like whole minutes. It was pure torture for Viv, following the same slow pace he set for himself as she dipped her fingers into her clenching hole. His hips began slowly pushing up to meet his downward pulls, his control wavering. 

As his pace began to speed up, Viv used her other hand to rub broad circles over her clit, making herself whimper. She wanted so badly to cum already, but she’d made a game with herself to not let herself cum until the man did. She loved to watch the way his whole body clenched with his release, and it was exactly what she needed to push herself over the edge. 

The vibrator was still buzzing in his other hand, and Vivian’s chest constricted as she heard him turn it up two settings before bringing it to his already-sensitive head. 

“Fuuu—” drew out from his lips. Viv could guess he’d thrown his head back by the way the muscles in his neck strained. She could see a bright pink flush spreading across his chest as it heaved from his laboured breath. He had to be the sexiest man she had ever seen, and she’d never had even a peek of his face. 

Viv’s circles on her clit got faster and smaller as his left hand sped up, matching his strokes exactly. She plunged two fingers from her other hand inside of her, hooking them to press against that spongy spot along her front wall. She was always glad for her longer fingers, because it made piano playing more of a breeze, but she also liked their ability to reach that place inside her that had her hitching her breath when she pressed just right. 

She heard more than saw him amp up the vibrator one more setting, followed by his string of, “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” 

He got vocal like that often, and the depth and timbre of his voice turned Viv on just as much as watching him touch himself did. She was sure it wasn’t always that deep or strained, but something about his inability to contain himself while getting himself off for a bunch of strangers absolutely ruined her. 

“‘m gonna cum,” he huffed out, the snapping of his hips into his fist getting faster. He never relented on the constant vibration to his swollen head, which only made Viv move faster, chasing her own orgasm. She could feel that coil ready to snap in her belly, and she was just waiting for that last piece to just completely send her over. 

Before she could become desperate for it, his abs clenched harshly and his thighs flexed as he pushed up once more to meet his hand. He never completely removed the vibrator from himself, but he just trailed it down to his balls again, letting it feed the force of his climax.  She watched, captivated, as his milky cum spurt from his head, shooting up over his stomach and dribbling down over his fist, covering his rings. Hearing him groan and bite out various curses pushed Viv over, throwing her head back and letting out a moan of her own as her release washed over her. 

She opened her eyes back up just in time to watch the man on screen shakily prop himself back up in order to get to his keyboard. She watched as his shaky hands struggled to type out a message, catching her own breath as the little bubble popped up on screen. 

‘To the bird who suggested the vibrator: You’re my fucking queen.’

Vivian’s tummy erupted in those flutters for an entirely different reason then.

So...obviously since the fic involves an OFC, I am willing to build on this if anyone would like to see more parts. I actually do have a rough outline of a short story if people would like more. If not, it will remain this onsehot. But, if you do want more, let me know! I do so appreciate hearing from you guys.

Nikki xx

[kazosa]

“I Wished for You”

Warning: I put some particularly smutty stuff in here, so please 18+ only!!

Chief Hopper x Reader

Summary: I wrote this based off a dream I had, almost all of it is what was in my dream except for certain parts. I’d wished for someone special to be in my life, and this dream happened the same night. Thank you, shooting star! I’m still waiting for my someone, but you can be the reader and have Hopper lovin’.

Words: about 2600

A/N: I hope you like it. Writing Hopper is new to me.

Tagging: @dragongirl420  @lefthologramdeer  @willowfae82

The restaurant had that same stale smell that all restaurants seemed to have. The bench that ran the length of the wall usually had patrons waiting for their number to be called for seating. Instead, you sat alone on the soft, well-worn seat, waiting for someone you weren’t sure was going to show up. Hell, anyone walking through the door would have been better than sitting there, the hostess giving you pathetic glances like you’d been stood up. At least the music they played was decent.

The door burst open and a rush of cold air came in with Hopper, the Chief of Police. He’d startled you, barging in like that. You watched as he did a quick look around. He’d gone in early that morning and it was already dark outside. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and it showed. He looked tired, like he’d had a really bad day.

You sat in your spot, on the opposite end of the bench from the door. The hostess pointed in your direction for Hopper. Slowly, he turned and saw you in the dim lighting, waiting for him. For as tall as he was, it took him a long time to make his way to you. His large frame loomed over you as he leaned down, putting his hands on either side of the cushion behind you.

You had to lean your head back on the cushion to look at him. Raising your hand to his cheek, you could feel the coldness of outside on his face. His beard scratched your hand as your fingertips brushed his earlobe.

“Tough day at the office, Hop?” you asked, softly.

He leaned into your hand, nodding. You pulled him closer, your lips brushing his.

“Fourty-two?” the hostess called out.

Hopper kissed you a little longer before breaking away. The number you held in your hand read “42”. Taking a knee in front of you, Hop took off his hat, leaned his forehead on your shoulder and sighed heavily.

“Wanna get outta here?” you ran your fingers through his hair, nails scratching his scalp.

“Fourty-two!” the hostess said again, this time staring directly at you and Hop.

Hop stood up straight, not without effort, and held his hand out to you.

“No, I already made you wait, we’re here, let’s eat,” he said.

You put your hand in his larger one, letting him pull you to your feet. Still holding your hand, he tried to pull you with him toward the impatient hostess station. Planting your feet, he turned to see why you stopped him.

“Jim, it’s okay. You look exhausted. C’mon, lets go to my place. I think I have some leftover chicken noodle soup that I can reheat,” you stepped close to him, reaching up to put your arms around his neck.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, almost picking you up.

“Do you have saltines or oyster crackers?” he asked into your coat.

He felt you smile against his cheek.

“Both,” you rubbed his back.

“I knew there was a good reason we got together,” he released you and started walking with you toward the exit. “I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

“You don’t have anything to make up. Just let me get you home so I can take care of you and you can tell me about your day,” you told him, holding his hand as you walked.

“Forty-two,” the hostess said. “Right this way.”

“Sorry, Patty, we’re cancelling,” Hopper told her as he led you out.

The woman sputtered a little bit, but you both kept walking. Hopper gave her a little wave as he held the door for you to pass by. The cold air in the vestibule was just a precursor to the colder air you knew was beyond the outer doors. The ache in your knee told you that snow was coming, and soon.

Hop made sure your old Mustang started before he took off for your place. Your baby always started, even if it was nasty cold outside, like it was that night. Slowly, you made your way out of the parking lot and to your house. When you arrived, Hop was just getting your garage door open so you could pull in without having to stop. He pulled the door shut as you killed the engine. He’d come over enough now that you had something of a routine. You were fairly certain that he spent more time at your house than his own. He used the small wood bench in your garage to take off his boots before he followed you inside.

Your house was small, but cozy, and you were glad you’d found it when you moved to Hawkins. What really sold you on it was the fireplace in the living room. The furnace was on, but you ran it just to keep the pipes from freezing, you liked having a fire going more, especially when it was pine. Hop liked it, too, and immediately went to the fireplace while you got out the soup to warm on the stove. While you waited for the soup, you got out the dishes you would need and your big beer mugs for the hot chocolate and Bailey’s you’d have later.

He looked at the dishes you’d set on the table, the saltines at his usual spot, the oyster crackers at yours. You were always doing stuff like that, taking care of him, making sure he didn’t drink his dinner. He hated to admit it, but it was nice. He still felt like he didn’t deserve someone like you, but as soon as you walked into the station that day, he knew. He knew he never wanted to let you go.

There were a few times when you sat in his office, listening to him when he needed it, or just being there when he needed you most. He liked your sassy attitude and that you didn’t take any of his crap. You called him on his bullshit and saw through his anger. It actually had been a tough day at the office. The cold weather had hit hard and left a lot of people unprepared. There had been two house fires and old man Thompson had a heart attack in his driveway that morning, not to mention the idiots wrecking their cars. It had been a busy day, and in his line of work, that was not a good thing.

A little over a year had passed since they first met and right at a year since he’d first asked her to dinner. He was supposed to take her out to dinner that night, things had happened, and he’d been really late, but she waited. Walking in, he knew she was still there, there was no mistaking her car in the parking lot. Once inside, he felt terrible, not just from the bad day at work, but also because it wasn’t the first time he’d made her wait. She sat there looking at the pictures on the wall until she saw him. She was his saving grace. All he wanted was to hold her close.

As soon as they had gone back to her place, he started a fire in the fireplace. Satisfied it was burning well, he leaned on the archway that separated the living room from the kitchen. He watched her work for a few moments before crossing the small distance to her. He stood behind her at the stove, wrapping his arms around her, leaning down to kiss her neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You reached up and put your hand on the back of his neck as he nuzzled you, your other hand resting on his arm.

“Don’t be sorry, Hop, this town is lucky to have you,” you stirred the soup. Steam was rising off it. “Get the bowls, it’s ready.”

After you dished up the soup, you sat at the table with him, listening as he told you about his hectic, tough day. He’d only taken a few spoonsful of his soup when he grabbed for a large stack of saltines. Putting your hand on his much larger one, you stopped him from crushing the mass of crackers into the soup.

“Hop, eat the soup. It’ll help. There’s a reason our moms forced it on us. Do it for me, okay?” you asked gently.

He put the crackers down and only crushed a few into his soup. He eyed the mugs on the counter.

“Why are they out,” he motioned at the mugs with a nod.

“Hot chocolate and Baileys,” you said.

“What’s Baileys?” he asked.

“Oh, Hop, you sweet, innocent boy,” you teased. “I’m gonna make a man outta you tonight.”

He smiled a real smile for the first time that night. He loved how she gave him a hard time.

You put your elbow on the table and rested your head in your hand.

“It’s Irish Cream whiskey. It’s delicious,” you said.

“I trust you,” he said simply.

After dinner, you turned out all of the lights, and you knew Hopper would not be long for the evening. The poor guy was exhausted. He was still wearing his uniform and trudged around your living room, throwing a blanket on the couch. You put the mugs on the coffee table and went to Hopper. Standing with him in front of the window, you looked outside and saw the snow was falling, like you knew it would.

He held you close to his side for a few moments before he pulled you onto his lap as he sat on the couch. Reaching for the hot chocolate, you felt his warm hand on your hip, keeping you from falling. Putting your arm around him, your fingers went to his hair, massaging his scalp.

“You should keep more stuff here. I swear, you practically live here as it is,” you observed.

He took a drink of the Irish Whiskey-laced hot chocolate.

“Oh, that IS good,” he assented. “Wait, do you want me to move in with you?”

“I wouldn’t hate it,” you admitted. “I’m just saying you could keep more things here. It sucks waking up and you’re gone to work, or just going to bed alone.”

“You hog the covers though,” he said.

“That’s not possible, you take up most of the bed,” you kissed his forehead.

Your fingers scratched up and down the back of his neck and scalp while the two of you quietly drank from your mugs. By the time you finished your mug, you were ready to go to bed for the night. Hopper was almost out already. Taking his mug with your own, you put them both back on the coffee table. Clean up could wait until morning. The fire in the fireplace was almost out already, so you spread the embers to make sure it didn’t flare up again. Hopper surprised you from behind when he swept you up into his arms.

“Whoa!” you said, wrapping your arm around him. “You thinking on it?”

He easily carried you down the short hall to your room.

“I’m thinking it would be nice to go to bed with you,” he said. “It’s a small town, you know. People talk.”

He laid you on the bed and climbed on top of you.

“Let ‘em talk, give the old biddies something juicy,” you said, his lips finding yours.

“I’m not one to believe in miracles,” his lips were in your neck.

You arched your back into him, reveling in the warmth of his passion. The feel of his weight pressing you down into your mattress turning you on more.

“But I never thought I would want this again,” he pushed himself off of you to take off his sheriff’s uniform.

You took the opportunity to pull back the covers and got out of your clothes, too. The air in your room was chilly, since the heat from the fire didn’t quite reach that far. Hop met you underneath the heavy covers.

“Want what again?” you asked.

“This,” he said. “Someone to share my life with.”

You looked into his eyes in the dim light of your room. You couldn’t remember him ever being so candid with you. Lying on your pillow, facing him, your faces mere inches apart.

“I wished for you,” you said. “I wished for someone to make my life whole again.”

“Aren’t we a pair,” he said.

“Hi Broken,” you said, “I’m Battered.”

Hopper’s hands were busy under the covers. His hand moved down to your hip. It was getting hot under the covers.

“No one will ever lay a hand on you in anger again,” he vowed.

You smirked a little, “Right now, I want your hand.” You took his hand in yours and pushed it into your panties.

He didn’t need you to say anything more, he just set about working his magic with his fingers. His finger slipped between your folds, finding your wetness. Slowly, his finger plunged deep within you, then back out again over your clit. He’d learned your “code,” as he called it, long ago. He liked making you cum on his hand. You spread your legs open wide for him, slinging your leg over his hip.

Your hand went to his cock, easy to find in his boxers. His thickness almost as wide as your fingers. You stroked him as he continued rubbing his long finger against your clit. His touch made you writhe under him. His mouth went to your nipple and he sucked hard, making your skin tingle.

“Clothes. Off. Now,” you ordered.

You both scrambled to get your remaining clothes off and back to each other as quickly as possible. Lying on your back, you opened yourself to him again and his mouth found yours, tasting deeply of you before moving to your nipple, his hand dipping low to continue massaging your engorged clit. You reached for his thick dick and grasped him tightly, at first, before loosening your grip so he could fuck into your hand while still taking care of you. Knowing you were close by the sound of your moans, he rolled you onto your side and positioned himself behind you. He held you in his arm, pinching and rolling your nipple as he slid into you from behind. He filled you up so completely. You arched your back and raised your leg over his. His other hand reached around to get back to your clit as he thrust into you. You were so close all you needed was one thing.

“Cum for me, baby girl,” he growled in your ear, his finger flicking at your clit even faster.

“Oh Hop,” you gasped, barely able to breathe. You felt your walls squeeze his dick so hard. He was still thrusting erratically into you, rubbing your clit firmly as your final spasms brought him over the edge, too.

After a few moments passed to catch your breath. He pulled you to him, holding you close as he spooned you. One hand trailing down over your hip and back up. His lips on your shoulder and neck, stopping by your ear. The goosebumps rippled down your body and his fingertip traced your nipple as it hardened again.

“I mean, I guess I could spend more time with you, here,” he said. His tongue licking your ear.

Pushing yourself back into him again, pulling his arms around you tightly, “Happy Anniversary, Hopper.”

“Happy Anniversary, sweetheart,” he said.

[one-deranged-son]

John the Revelator?

Sophie Woods was trembling like mad inside the safe room.

She was supposed to be studying for a test, but now she’s stuck in a room filled with nothing but a sad, wooden desk and stacks of canned soup aside from gallons of water. If she ever managed to get the fuck outta here, her chemistry test will never, ever, ever be her first concern, because, hell, when the fuck did her Dad build this room? Why the fuck did he even do that?

She doesn’t know, but she knows for sure that she’s glad about it.

Because she was trembling, shit. She thinks she needs to take a piss and she doesn’t know when it would be safe to actually come out. Her Dad specifically said not to open the door to anyone except for the police, but how the fuck could she knows if it was really the Police and not this Revelator dude her Dad was so scared about?

Fuck, she’s still trembling.

“Get hold of yourself, Sophie. You’re better than this,” she whispered with a gun in her hand. A gun she doesn’t know how to use, in her trembling hand.

Fucking hell.

Sophie didn’t get a chance to calm herself, unfortunately. ‘Cause there was a long scream accompanied by sounds of bullets hitting something she recalls as glass. Furniture. Lamps. Bodies. Oh God, bodies, she’s so dead.

Sophie Woods pisses herself.

“Tell me who’s that writin’? John the Revelator.

Who’s that writin’? John the Revelator.

Who’s that writin’? John the Revelator.

Wrote the book of the seven seals.”

“What the fuck?” Sophie muttered as she heard the faint noise of someone singing behind the door. A clear tenor voice, a church-choir kind of voice.

Then there were three loud bangs against the reinforced steel. The sound was almost too joyful for something that came from a motherfucking steel door. Sophie didn’t answer it, heck, she doesn’t have the guts.

“Sweetheart, ya don’t have to be so afraid wimme. All the bad guys are gone, I ain’t hurtin’ ya,” the voice says. Sickeningly sweet and sickeningly soft, and oh God, Sophie thinks she pisses herself again.

She doesn’t answer, still.

“Ain’t answering? Aight, it’s cool. Imma just, uh, go now. Yer Daddy’s dead, by the way.”

Then the voice sings again.

“Tell me who’s that writin’? John the Revelator.

Who’s that writin’? John the Revelator.

Who’s that writin’? John the Revelator.

Wrote the book of the seven seals.”

The Revelator left, and Sophie Woods pisses herself for the third time until the police find her in soaked pants.

Who the hell invented alarm clocks?

Whoever it was, they should be shot to death. No, that would be too quick. They should have their hands chopped off and get it thrown into the hounds before settling on burning ‘em alive, 'cause, fuck, John hates it so bad.

The sun was barely even shining when John has to force himself into waking up. He was still in his briefs as he groaned and went straight into the kitchen. Today’s breakfast is eggs and bacon, 'cause he just did his grocery shopping yesterday and he feels like cooking today.

John thinks that it was surely an achievement.

He rushed to wake all of the sleepyheads as he finished plating the happy pig bacon because he doesn’t want to suffer alone. Everyone has to deal with the same thing as him, which is getting up early and become a functional member of society. Not that he wants to, but anyway, he’s gonna take a shower afterward. Then, as the cold water runs through his spines, he let his day begins.

First, he will start fixing old Frank’s cars and mow his lawns. Then, if they need an extra hand, John would gladly help them clean the house. Honestly, this is probably what he always did for a living. He’s lowkey a maid in this situation and their payment ain’t always generous, but at least, John could bring some extra cookies Julie made for him.

It was chocolate chips today.

Then when the sun starts to set down, he will go to Jane’s place because Jane is currently pregnant and his husband insisted that she should take a lot of rest. And she was really nice to him in any way possible even though all John did was help her clean the dishes or fix some random stuff that only took about five minutes to fix. Most of the time, he’d stay longer than he planned for because Jane seemed to be lonely and John was a nice person so he stayed and nodded at things he doesn’t really understand.

Jane’s payment was nice.

Every Monday and Wednesday, he will secretly take Paul’s place in the convenience store at the counter because Paul was an irresponsible bastard and he loves his girlfriend just a bit too much. Then on Tuesday and Thursday, Hank will pay him to scrub the launderette floor so hard, he thinks he is being paid to destroy all the goddamn tiles and not the germs. When he’s free, Huang Ayi will be the one calling him to get his white boy ass over and helps her with the store. “My son-in-law is useless, Jim,” that’s what she said, “my daughter is stupid for marrying that prick.”

He likes Huang Ayi.

And if he’s lucky, he could go home with a box of cookies and a decent amount of cash at 8 p.m. and prepare dinner for the goddamn kids. Then they would have this weird ritual where they would play either monopoly, cards against humanity, or whatever game they’re vibing at the moment—if everyone is free.

The loser will clean the dishes and John was quite competitive with such a glorious reward. If he’s really lucky then he will stay at home and watch the TV when the kids do whatever the fuck they need to do.

And if he’s feeling it, he would watch himself on the news.

The news starts with the usual brunet on his neat shirt. His eyebrows were scrunched in what it seems to be irritation—or confusion. Who knows, John doesn’t give a fuck.

“After several weeks of disappearance, the anonymous vigilante who claims themselves as 'the Revelator’ is back with another shocking 'revelation’. The unknown man had claimed solid proof that the CEO of Woods Company had been involved in child trafficking. His daughter, Sophia Woods, was found alive and harmless in their safe room and was still being questioned by the authorities,” he says.

The scene switched to Sophie Woods. The blood was drained from her skin, making it as pale as chalk. Her eyes and her mouth were frozen wide open in an expression of dread, and She was stunned, standing on the ground motionless.

“I—he killed my Dad, but he didn’t open the door or forces it—”

Her little voice was trembling like mad.

“He—he sings this song, 'John The Revelator’ a—and uhm, he, he left a note on the door and said my Dad has been doing some nasty business.”

“I was really scared and I don’t know anything, I thought I was going to die.”

Then it shifted back to the news anchor. Concern and confusion all presented by his pretty face for the audience.

“As the Revelator themselves, their identity has not however been known. While some people think he was a threat, there are still a lot of masses who supported his acts. Some may even think of him as a hero.”

A random dude showed up on the screen, he says, “Whoever this Revelator dude, he’s pretty yo neat. Not in a literal fashion, no sir, but really, we need more people who would stand for us lil’ people.”

“For our next news, there has been no new development in the disappearance of the newly-wed couple 27-year-old Monica Collins and her husba—” The brunet looks at the scene again and begins another news, but John turns the TV off before he could say anything else.

John stands to his feet again. It was around 10 p.m. and he knows he should wake up early tomorrow.

“Tell me who’s that writin’? John the Revelator.

Who’s that writin’? John the Revelator.

Who’s that writin’? John the Revelator.

Wrote the book of the seven seals.”

John rarely sleeps, but he had a good rest, that night.

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Half a noodle - the teaspoon girl pt 4

A witch turns Y/N into a teaspoon sized woman, and Sam and Dean has to make sure she doesn’t get squashed – and find a cure.

Word count: 3453

Have another part – this one is a bit longer than the others. Hopefully part five isn’t too far away (I’m sorry – I’m a slow writer).

Also, thanks for the idea, @mrswhozeewhatsis :D Not quite what you had in mind, perhaps, but...

Please let me know what you think – and remember that I’m not English. Also let me know if you want on – or off – my tag list.

From part three:

“Fuckin’ Barbie,” she muttered, but she picked up a few garments anyway. Her old clothes were so dirty she couldn’t wear them anymore – the stench was becoming unbearable.

“Turn around,” she instructed, waving her arms in Sam’s direction. He chuckled, but did as she asked. After pulling her filthy shirt over her head, she retched again and trembled violently. “Ugh, I smell like The Bog of Eternal Stench! Oh my god, what’s this? Seriously, Sam?” She’d picked up a sweater with a white and purple unicorn printed on the front.

“Sorry. As I said, limited choice. Wasn’t exactly a huge store. But the lady behind the counter was certain that ‘my daughter would be delighted’,” he replied, fighting to keep his voice straight.

When Y/N didn’t say anything else, he took the chance on turning around again. She’d donned the unicorn sweater, and was admiring herself in the reflection on his phone. If he ignored the matted hair and grimy clumps of whatever on her face, she looked adorable.

“There was more in the bag too,” he said, clearing his throat and swallowing the snort that was building in his chest. Lifting up the heap of clothes, he revealed a small pile of plastic that scattered over the table: a small glass, a set of cutlery, and an ornate hairbrush.

Dean howled with laughter, no longer able to keep it in.

Ignoring him, Y/N examined the items. Sure, they were plastic, but at least she didn’t have to drink out of her hands.

“I’ve got one last surprise,” Sam said, pulling a small packet out of his pocket. “I figured you didn’t want to go around unarmed, so I got this made for you.”

Y/N tore off the paper to reveal a sword fashioned from what looked like a needle.

“It’s silver. Probably won’t do much damage, but -”

“It’s perfect. Thank you!” Y/N hugged him around the wrist.

“I was thinking,” Dean said with a weird expression after he’d calmed down enough o speak.

“Never a good thing,” Sam muttered just loud enough for Y/N to hear, and she burst out giggling.

Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. This,” he held up a small box, “is probably big enough for you to sleep in. Just tuck in a bit of… I don’t know, a wash cloth or something to make a mattress.”

“That’s… actually not a bad idea,” Y/N replied. She recognised it as the gift box she’d used to wrap the book she’d given Sam for his birthday, and a small part of her was ecstatic to sleep in something belonging to him. Another part flailed a bit when she realised he’d kept the box.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed with an awkward cough. “Just gotta empty out all the shit I keep in it.” He grabbed the box and practically leapt over to his bag and turned it upside down.

Dean being Dean snickered and stretched his neck to see, but Sam shielded the contents with his body.

“Ooh… What’cha keepin’ in there, Sammy?” Dean sang.

“Just… stuff,” Sam said, trying to keep his cool, but he felt heat creeping across his face. He had filled the box with small trinkets and mementos; a pressed flower and a crumpled paper with addresses to interesting shops, the polaroid that he’d taken of Y/N that sunny day in the park, a couple of ticket stubs from the case with the theatre – she’d been so excited to finally see Shakespeare on stage, even if that particular stage had turned out to be haunted, the sea shell that glinted when he turned it against the light – he had plans for that sea shell, and Dean was not going to spoil them, and finally: the friendship bracelets Y/N had braided when she was sick and stuck in the motel while Sam and Dean finished the job. They were just made for fun, and he suspected she’d wanted to throw them away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Let me see,” Dean continued, but Sam zipped up the bag too fast.

“No.” He took a deep breath before turning back around. “Here, you can use this as a blanket if you want.” He dropped a piece of patterned fabric on the table.

It was a silk handkerchief he’d used once, when they had had to pose as snotty, rich people for a case.

Blinking a couple of times, Y/N smiled up at him. “Thank you. I’m sure it’ll be great.” She picked it up and rubbed her face on it. It was so soft, and still smelled faintly of that cologne Sam used when they had to dress up. Yeah, it would work fine, though when she thought about it, she realised that she might not get much sleep after all.

“Gonna put the box, sorry, bed on the bedside table for you,” Dean said. “So you feel safer at night.”

Not quite knowing how to respond, Y/N put up and exaggerated look of awe. “So you do know how to be sweet?”

Dean scoffed. “Sometimes. When the situation calls for it. Shut up.” He pretended to be annoyed, but the smile never left his face, and it warmed Y/N’s heart.

“Right, now that that’s done,” Sam interrupted, “maybe you want to… uh, take a bath? I mean, you do kinda stink. Bad!”

“Thought you’d never bring it up,” Dean laughed, pinching his nose and scrunching his face up.

Ignoring Dean again, Y/N lit up. “Yes! But… how? I’m too small to use the shower.”

Sam winked and shuffled over to the small kitchenette corner. “Don’t worry. I had an idea while driving back from the shop.” Grabbing a soup bowl and a handful of matchboxes, he returned to pick up Y/N, who willingly let him carry her to the bathroom.

There he set up a makeshift tub for her, filling the bowl with hot water before adding a couple of drops of shower gel, stirring it with his finger to make bubbles. Then he stuck the matchboxes together like a ladder. To top it off, he cut up a clean washcloth to make a towel. “Voila.”

“Awesome. Thanks, Sam.”

“No problem. Just holler if you need anything.” He smiled and left her alone, but he also left the door slightly ajar so he could hear her.

Just after she’d lowered herself into the water, Dean poked his head through the door. “I’m gonna get dinner. What’cha want?”

“Where you goin’? The diner up at the – ? OK, I’ll have a cheeseburger,” Y/N replied with a thoughtful look when Dean nodded.

“Yeah, me too.” Sam’s voice was muted through the wall.

Y/N grinned. “And beer!” she added enthusiastically.

Sam appeared behind his brother. “Um, I think…” he began, “when you’re so little… You’ll get alcohol poisoning.”

Pouting, she slid down in the water, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine. Bring me a coke.” When Dean was out of the door, she muttered: “Can’t wait to be big again.”

Sam gave her a smile filled with sympathy. “I’m sure we’ll get you back in no time. With Dean’s creativity and my research, combined with your intelligence, you’ll get back to your beer before you know it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” With that he left her alone again.

It would be impossible to keep eye contact after this. Y/N swore to herself and tried again just for good measure. No chance. The wall was too steep, too smooth to scale. She had no other options.

“Sam!” she called as loudly as she could. “A little help, please?”

It didn’t take long for the bathroom door to open fully and Sam’s hairy head to poke through. When he couldn’t see her, he stepped all the way into the room. “Y/N?”

“Down here,” she replied, trying hard to restrain the burning embarrassment. Sam had seen her naked before, she told herself, well, parts of her anyway. In life or death situations. Never like this. Okay, so maybe the embarrassment wasn’t totally uncalled for.

Sam bent over the sink, but quickly drew back when he realised she had no clothes on. Not sure what to do, he tossed her a piece of the cut washcloth. “What happened?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

“The bowl slid into the sink.” That was obvious, wasn’t it? Wrapping the cloth around herself and hoisting it like it was a glamorous dress, she made a tiny noise to let him know she was decent. “Help, I’ve fallen and can’t get up?” It was a lame joke for sure, but anything to relieve some of the heavy tension that suddenly filled the room.

“Good one,” Sam chuckled and held out his hand. When he closed it around her, she couldn’t help herself: it was so warm and gentle, the sweet smell so uniquely Sam, that she leaned in, and rubbed her forehead against his hand like a kitten.

He put her down on the edge of the sink, and turned around so she could get dressed, then carried her back into the room, leaving her on the table while he took a shower too.

“AAAH! Shit! Go away! Shitshitshitshit!!!”

Y/N’s frantic voice startled Sam and he skidded out of the bathroom to see what was wrong. Imagining all the horrible things that could go wrong, he almost sprinted over to the small table, clutching a towel around his waist and soapy hair flopping in every direction, ready to rescue Y/N from danger, only to find her standing over a dark lump with hairy legs that now curled inwards on the dead body. Her needle-sword had pierced right through the lump.

“Spider,” she said with a shrug, not taking her eyes from her slain foe. “Never thought much about them before, but now…” She shuddered and pulled her sword from the creature. The spider’s legs twitched, but fortunately it remained dead.

Sam let out a sigh of relief, happy that there was no real danger, making Y/N look up. She squeaked and turned bright red, before looking away very pointedly. “Y-you go back and, uh, finish your shower. I’ll just… stay here and…” Her voice dwindled into an incoherent mumble, and she refused to look up until she heard the bathroom door close again.

Shortly after, he came back, this time fully dressed, wet hair clinging to his cheekbones. His stomach growled and Y/N’s answered in kind, and they grinned at each other when the roar from the Impala’s engine filled the room.

The door slammed when Dean kicked it closed, his hands full of food. “Sorry, no burger. Italian night at the diner tonight.”

Y/N clapped her hands and squealed. “Pasta! My favourite!”

“Only the best for our little doll princess,” Dean said, nodding to the bright pink sweater she wore. It was adorned with a glittering crown over her chest.

Y/N was too busy sniffing the food to reply, but soon her face fell. “You only bought two…”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, I figured you only eat like half a noodle anyway, so…” He cut off a piece of one of the plastic lids and rounded it a bit. Then, after emptying the contents of the boxes onto plates, he turned one of them upside down and put Y/N’s new plate on it.

She sat down on an upturned spoon, and watched as he meticulously cut a spaghetti noodle into pieces and added a drop of meat sauce.

The food was delicious, but it felt like an oddly insufficient meal. She wanted more, but was full after just one small noodle.

After dinner, Dean went out, claiming he was going to check out the local library, and Sam brought out his laptop. Y/N perched in Sam’s pocket, hoping she could at least contribute a little. Maybe pick up some small detail he missed, or just provide some company.

Not even thirty minutes later, Dean came back, hauling himself through the door, looking dispirited and more than a little irritated. “This damn tiny town doesn’t even have a library,” he answered to Sam’s unspoken question. “Or a bar… This place sucks. Gimme a beer. ”

The next morning was a slow one. The research had brought nothing, and the sun burning through the window made them all drowsy. By midday even Sam had stopped looking for a cure, and started mindlessly scrolling through the internet instead.

Suddenly, he grinned and stretched his back. “Dean!” Sam lifted his laptop and waved it around while he spoke.

Peeking around the door, Dean grinned with his toothbrush still in his mouth. “Yo!”

“Found us a new case,” Sam began, showing the screen to his brother and Y/N. “At least I think it’s our kinda weird. By the sound of it, I’m thinking poltergeists. It’s not too far away – AND they have a public library. Looks like it’s not too small either. Whaddaya say, huh?”

Y/N stretched and rolled her shoulders, trying to pull the itch out of her skin. The doll clothes weren’t nearly as comfortable as her own. “I’m game. Anything’s better than sitting cooped up in here. We might as well do something useful while we search for a cure.” She gestured to herself and didn’t mention that the thought of riding in Sam’s pocket again went straight to her gut and made her feel intoxicated.

Sam nodded in agreement, making no show of his excitement over being so close to Y/N again, even though she was still small enough to fit snugly in the palm of his hand.

“Alright. You two finish packing, I’ll bring up the car,” Dean said, wiping his face with a towel. He snatched the car keys from the table and almost skipped out the door.

“Hey!” Sam yelled after him, “I’m not doing all the work – you’re a slob on the road, Dean, I’m not packing your gross shit all alone – no offence, Y/N,” he added after a small pause.

“None taken,” she replied, but the heavy stone that settled in her stomach said otherwise. Or, she thought to herself as she collected her own, tiny belongings and threw them on her bed-box, it was more of a pebble really.

“Y/N? You okay?” Dean asked when he got back and found her fiddling the velcro on the Barbie duffle bag.

“Mhm…” she hummed, summoning her best neutral face. “Just eager to get on the road and leave this godforsaken town behind.” She handed him the bag and muttered under her breath: “Fucking witches.”

If Dean heard it, he didn’t comment on it.

Half an hour later they were cruising down the highway. Dean was – as always – happy to be on the road in his beloved car again: humming to the music and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

Sam dozed with his head against the cool window, smiling in his sleep from the warm bundle lying comfortably in his front pocket.

And Y/N, well, she was drunk on Sam’s scent, and had to concentrate hard not to grab him too much through the thin fabric.

“Ugh! It’s hot in here.” Y/N had all reason to complain: the sun was frying through the open window, and the breeze didn’t reach Sam’s pocket at all. She popped her head over the edge and glared at Dean who resembled a laughing Bond villain.

“Sorry,” Sam said and held out his hand for her to climb into. “There’s no air condition in my shirt, unfortunately.” He kept her in his hands for a while, absentmindedly stroking his thumb over her back and constantly checking if she was okay.

Dean slowed down the car. Not by much, but enough that Sam noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“Not sure which exit…” He squinted out over the landscape: everything looked identical for miles, just huge fields of corn and wheat, sometimes interrupted by narrow side roads.

“Hang on, let me get Google maps,” Sam replied and dropped Y/N on his shoulder before fishing the phone out of his jeans. “Um… looks like you take the next left turn …”

Y/N didn’t hear the rest of the conversation: she was surrounded by Sam’s glorious mane, and was having a moment. Several, actually, and looking back she imagined she probably looked like a cat that was too stoned on catnip to move.

When Sam finally moved to lift her down again, she swatted his hand away. “I can see EVERYTHING!” she marvelled, trying to take in every sight at once. From his shoulder she could see the road ahead and the fields outside, and the sky and the clouds and the sun and the birds playing on the air. Even the roadkill.

Using a handful of soft hair as support, she sat down and dangled her legs over the edge. “Holy shit!” Her awe made them chuckle.

“You… um, you wanna stay up there?” Sam turned his face to get a look at her.

“Please,” she nodded back. “If it’s not too annoying.”

“Not at all. Just let me know when you want down.”

With her whispered okay, Dean stole a sideways glance of the two of them. He said nothing, but his previous mischievous expression softened into a gentle smile.

Y/N nearly toppled backwards as her eyes slid shut, but thanks to Sam’s reflexes, she was caught and placed gently back into his pocket. Cuddling against his chest, clutching the shirt fabric in her arms, she soon drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

The sun had already set, leaving the indigo sky littered with tiny, twinkling stars. The air was cool and silent, and nothing could be heard except the steady rumble from the Impala.

“You should get some rest,” Dean murmured, almost not wanting to disturb the peaceful night. “I’m good to drive for a while yet, and you need your energy if we’re gonna find a cure.” He didn’t have to elaborate, just nod at Sam’s pocket.

“Alright.” Sam yawned and leaned against the door, careful not to jostle Y/N too much. “Wake me up when it’s my time.” He gave a weak wave in the direction of the steering wheel and closed his eyes, sleeping within seconds: the warmth and weight in his pocket weirdly calming him down. It had only been a few days, but he knew he would miss having Y/N so close all the time.

Dean didn’t wake Sam until he pulled into the motel parking lot, and after a quick meal (again, fragments of food for Y/N), Sam and Dean leaned back in their seats. It was one of those evenings where time seemed to stand still, and they could forget about their lives for a moment.

Clinking their bottles together, Sam grinned. “Tomorrow’s gonna bring good news,” he said with a sigh. “I just know it.”

After watching Dean take a large gulp from his bottle, Y/N smacked her lips and shot her bottom lip out, whining as pathetically as she possibly could.

“It’s not safe,” Sam said, but there was pity in his eyes.

Dean nodded, then stopped himself. “I have an idea. Gimme the glass,” he said, taking the cap from the coke bottle and filled it with beer.  Then he dipped Y/N’s minute glass into it.

“You’re an angel,” Y/N chirped, lighting up from the prospect of drinking something stronger than soda and making grabby hands at the glass. “The nice kind,” she added quickly when Dean gave her the look.

After two small glasses of beer, Y/N had almost forgotten her… challenges, laughing at all of Sam’s horrible jokes and singing along to Dean’s music that he claimed was classics.

Sam couldn’t help but laugh along, she really was a happy and adorable drunk, but he was wary of how fast the alcohol affected her. “I think you’ve had enough,” he said when Y/N had drained her third glass.

“Aw, Sammy, you’re no fun,” she muttered before suddenly getting to her feet and patting the back of his hand. Leaning on his thumb for support, she drew herself up and started climbing his hand. It was harder than she expected, with virtually nothing to hold on to, but she finally got up and wobbled over his knuckles, before sprinting over the hand and almost launching herself at his shirt.

Pulling herself up the arm by the sleeve, she giggled quietly as if she was doing something she shouldn’t, missing Sam’s look of utter incredulity.

Dean stared at Sam, and Sam stared at Dean. “Um, Y/N, sweetheart, what are you doing?” Dean asked.

Leaning back to look at him like Spiderman, she failed horribly at winking and snorted loudly. “Shhh…” she whisper-yelled. “I’m climbing Sam, can’t you see? Always wanted to – how can I not, I mean look at ‘im,” she continued, slurring slightly. “Mmm… just… muscles, y’know. And…”

She was interrupted by Sam, who surprisingly had turned the shade of a very ripe beetroot. “Y/N, you’re drunk,” he said, gently lifting her off his arm – she’d reached his elbow, and was trying to scramble over a fold in the fabric without falling down – and put her back on the table, where she promptly plopped down on her butt and groaned.

“Hey! Put me back! I’m trying to… I’m gonna… I wanna…” She grinned widely and blew him a loud kiss.

“You’re drunk,” Sam repeated.

“No, I’m not. You’re drunk. I’m… I’m –“ Shutting up abruptly, her eyes darted around frantically. “Bucket!” she mouthed, and then threw up all over herself.

Part five

Tagging my wonderful friends:

@awesomeahwu @brynleewolfe @funwithfanfics @babeinthebowtie @savingapplepie-eatingthings @winchesterprincessbride @savvythedork @littlegreenplasticsoldier @youtubehelpsmesurvive @blackcherrywhiskey @mrswhozeewhatsis @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @aiaranradnay @iamreadinginsecret @barneybrigade @fandomismyspiritanimal @mogaruke @kathaswings @superwholockyooooo @missdestiel67 @blackfandomtrashandproud @wstrumpel @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @saradiamayaf

[itselbaka]

Love is hard - Chapter eleven

Pairing: Madison Joseph x reader (friends), Josh Dun x reader (friends, lovers?), Tyler Joseph x reader (friends), Jenna Joseph x reader (friends), other Joseph and Dun family members

Plot: You take a leap year abroad, where you meet Madison Joseph. You become best friends and move in with her family. You meet her brother Tyler and his best friend Josh, who you have a crush on. Will Josh and you become more than friends?

This chapter: Chris and Kelly come back home and you meet Josh’s parents.

Warnings: Mentions of panic attacks

Word count: about 2600 (oops)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

A/n: I hope you enjoy this chapter :D Love you all

“Back so soon? How was your date?” Maddie asked as soon as you walked inside. “It was great actually. We went ice skating and it was really fun and romantic.” You answered, eyes lighting up at the thought of the sweet kisses you shared with Josh. You sat down next to Maddie and started telling her about your date. She had her eyes fixated on the television and didn’t seem to really hear you, though. You remembered what Tyler had said to you about her needing some space and quickly stopped talking. “Anyway, your parents are coming home tomorrow so do you want to plan something? To welcome them back?” You swayed the conversation away. “I’m meeting up with Annie in the morning, but we can go for lunch somewhere if you want to? Just let me know where and I’ll meet you guys there.” Maddie replied. “Sure, sounds good.” You watched part of the movie along with Maddie, but you weren’t really interested and soon went off to sleep.

You had set your alarm early the next day. Though the house was pretty neat, you wanted to clean a little and get ready for when Chris and Kelly would arrive home. At 11, the house was completely cleaned and you got yourself ready as well, so you sat on the couch watching some television and waiting. You heard a car pull up on the driveway and walked to the door. “Hey Y/n. How are you?” Jenna said walking over to you. Tyler followed right behind her and they both hugged you. “We thought it might be nice to have lunch together, with my parents being back home and all.” Tyler said. “Maddie and I already planned that actually, but your very welcome to join us! They should be here any minute.” You replied, truly happy Tyler and Jenna were there. You all sat on the couch and chatted. “So, did you talk to Maddie? About… you know.” Tyler softly asked you when Jenna excused herself to go to the bathroom. “No. I think I’m just gonna let this rest for a while, it’ll figure itself out.” You replied. Tyler nodded while you heard another car approaching. “That must be them.” You said as you walked to the door. “Hey guys! Wow, quite the welcoming.” Kelly laughed as she spotted the three of you on the porch.

Chris and Kelly had put their stuff inside, freshened up and liked the idea of going out to lunch together, so you got in the car and drove to a small bistro they liked. You texted Maddie where you were going and she arrived shortly after you did. “Before I forget; Josh’s parents are in town, so he asked me to invite you all for dinner tonight.” Tyler announced midway through the meal. “Great, it would be nice to catch up with them!” Kelly replied happily, Chris nodded and smiled. You weren’t sure if Tyler meant that you were invited as well. It sounded like it, and frankly it would be a little weird if everyone would go except for you, but Josh could’ve invited you yesterday and didn’t. “I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be like old times, just our two families together. I was really excited when I got invited a couple of days ago.” Maddie said, smiling sweetly. You couldn’t help but feel personally attacked by her comment, but shook that thought away thinking she probably didn’t mean it that way. “Don’t be nervous about tonight. Only ‘the kids’ know you and Josh are dating and we won’t say anything. Just think of them as a friend’s parents. No pressure.” Jenna leaned over and said to you, misinterpreting your silence. “Thanks, Jen. I’ll be okay, don’t worry.” You reassured her, feeling an other worry coming up. Even if they don’t know we’re dating, I still have to give of a good impression. If they don’t like me and things do work out with Josh, it’ll be hard to change their minds. O God, what if they hate me? You felt your mind, once again, start to race. You tried to concentrate on the conversation and stop thinking about all the other stuff, but it only worked a little.

Once you were back home you immediately went upstairs to review your outfit options. You wanted to look like the perfect daughter-in-law to be; decent and classy, but with a hint of sexiness. The first three outfits were okay, but too overdressed for just a dinner with ‘the parents of friends’.  Just as you were assembling a fourth look, Maddie walked in the bedroom. “Whatcha doing?” She asked, looking up from her phone. “Just trying to figure out what to wear tonight. What are you wearing?” You replied, sounding calm. In fact, you were freaking yourself out more and more as time progressed, most likely putting more pressure on the night than necessary. “Just some jeans and a shirt, nothing special.” Maddie answered, grabbing some clothes from her closet and disappearing to the bathroom. Ok, don’t overdress, just jeans and a shirt you told yourself as you peered in your wardrobe. After a couple of hours, Kelly knocked at the bathroom door. “Ready? We’re leaving in five minutes.” She said. Feeling another rush of nervousness you checked your outfit, make-up and hair one last time. You had tried on seven outfits in total, but ultimately chose to wear your skinny light blue jeans, a dark green long-sleeved top, a bright yellow scarf and matching yellow converse shoes. You had put on light make-up and put your hair in a loose braid. You thought you looked neat and decent, but still casual, though you basically looked the same as always. You sprayed on a bit of perfume and rushed downstairs. Chris and Maddie were already half way to the car while Kelly waited for you at the door. You noticed she wore a long black dress and had her hair down in light curls and looked outside to check on the other’s outfits. Chris wore a navy blue suit and Maddie had a beautiful deep red flowy skirt on, with a black lace top. “I didn’t realize we were supposed to dress up.” You said to Kelly, almost choking on your words. “I thought Madison would tell you. It doesn’t matter, really. It’s just a long running private joke between us and the Dun’s. You look nice.” Kelly replied, locking the door and leading you to the car.

Your nerves were worsening the closer you got to the Dun’s house. Maddie didn’t speak with you in the car and you tried to ignore the feeling of betrayal, though you refused to believe she’d trick you on purpose. Maybe she forgot about the ‘joke’ and only realized after telling me what she’d wear you thought. When Chris parked the car in front of a light brown house, you suddenly felt nauseous. It was going to be the first time at Josh’s house; you weren’t sure of your relationship status with Josh; you’d meet his parents; you looked like the Joseph’s just picked you up from the street, compared to them. O God. You concentrated on your breathing as you followed the others to the door, attempting to avoid a total panic attack. Chris rang the bell and it only took seconds before the door opened. “Chris! Kelly! Madison! It’s so good to see you!” The woman enthusiastically said, hugging the three Joseph’s and welcoming them inside. “And you must be Y/n! Ashley told me about you. I’m Laura. Please, come in.” Laura said. She wore a long, light grey dress, obviously in on this ‘joke’ between the families. You followed the group into the dining room, seeing Tyler, Jenna, Jay, Ashley, Josh and a man, who must be Josh’s father, all dressed up in suits or dresses. You uncomfortable stood in the doorway not sure how to behave and what to do, focussing solely on calming yourself down. “Ah, you must be Y/n. Nice to meet you, I’m William, but you can call me Bill.” Bill came over to you, shaking your hand and smiling genuinely. “No dress, eh? I guess they haven’t told you about that yet.” He said chuckling. You greeted and hugged Ty, Jen, Jay and Ash and walked over to Josh. Neither of you dared to look the other in the eyes and you awkwardly hugged before quickly sitting down. Laura poured everyone a drink and served the first course, a tasty pumpkin soup. You sat between Maddie and Laura, Jay sat across from you. The parents talked among each other, Ashley and Jenna chatted sitting at the end of the table, Maddie was involved in a conversation with Josh and Tyler spoke with his brother, leaving you to eat your soup in silence. Feeling more of an outsider than ever, wedged between two people, you felt your heart beating faster and your body heating up. Only this time it wasn’t because you felt happy or in love, you knew it was because you were panicking. Your hands began to shake a little and your breathing became heavier. You looked around the table with distressed eyes, but nobody noticed you. You tried remembering the breathing techniques you once learned, but your mind didn’t seem to listen to you. You felt another rush of nausea coming up and you could feel the first drops of sweat form on your forehead. I have to get out of here you thought. You appeared calm, or so you thought, as you stood up as slowly as you could and excused yourself, mumbling something about the bathroom. Kelly nodded at you swiftly before returning to her conversation.

You opened several doors before locating the bathroom, locking the door and sitting on the floor, trying to control your breath. You held your hands under the cold water for a moment and wiped the sweat of your face, slowly but surely regaining your composure. You needed some fresh air but didn’t dare leave the house without asking or telling anyone. You thought about saying you felt sick so you could go home, but you really wanted to impress Josh’s parents tonight. So, after ten minutes, you managed to calm yourself down a little and went back to the dining room, determined to make a near perfect impression on Laura and Bill. “Are you okay honey? You look a little pale.” Laura asked you as she passed you in the doorway. “Yes, I’m fine. Just a little tired I think.” She nodded and took the plates to the kitchen, replacing them with plates of turkey and mashed potatoes. You sat down again, feeling queasy. Bill had switched places with Laura, sitting next to you. He started chatting with you, about his job and his kids and asking you about your plans for the future. You talked to him during the main course, feeling a little more at ease and secretly thankful he provided some distraction. “I hope you all had enough to eat and liked it.” Laura said when everyone was done eating. “Let’s go to the lounge for coffee.” Everyone stood up and made their way to the lounge and you followed closely behind. You sat in a big chair near the corner of the room and watched the others as they sat down and kept talking with each other. They, unconsciously, seemed to form two groups as they sat. The parents were joined by Maddie on the huge sofa across from you, while the boys, Ashley and Jenna sat down on the other big sofa near the entrance. You saw Maddie laughing loudly with Bill and Laura, who obviously liked her a lot. You wished you had chosen a different seat so you could be included in one of the groups. Suddenly unsure if anyone in the room even wanted you to be there, you didn’t risk trying to move seats and stayed on your own.

You weren’t sure if it was the warmth in the room, the fact that nobody talked to you, that you were still nervous or all of them together, but without warning you could feel the next panic attack coming. You needed fresh air and you needed it now. Rushing across the room you left towards the patio doors you saw on your way to the lounge. Thankfully they weren’t locked and you almost ran onto the lawn, quickly checking if you were visible from the lounge. You spotted a small bench to your right and sat down in the dark, still breathing heavily. “Are you okay?” You heard Josh’s voice next to you soon after you sat down. “Yes, sure. I think I’m getting the flu or something.” You tried to smile, not wanting to show Josh how you really felt. He sat down next to you, softly rubbing your back. You sat in silence for a while, Josh staring at you. “I remember when we first started playing big shows. There were so many people there, staring at us, at me. At first I was happy all those people came to see us. But then, I would get really nervous. I would be nauseous all day and some days, I didn’t even want to go on. I would lie awake night after night worrying and my mind played tricks on me. Tyler noticed, of course, and helped me a lot. I talked about it and worked on it and even though I still get nervous sometimes, I can manage it and find my calm spot.” Josh suddenly told you, his voice sounding soft and sweet. You nodded, feeling he understood what was going on. You slowly calmed down again while Josh talked to you about trivial things, to get your mind off whatever was going on. “Let’s get inside and have some coffee, okay?” He finally asked when you’d calmed down. You smiled and nodded, following him inside. You were sure everyone noticed you coming back in together, but thankfully no one said anything about your disappearance or entrance. You sat next to Josh on the big sofa and felt relieved as you chatted along with the group. Having a good time, at last, two hours passed by quickly and Chris and Kelly announced they were leaving soon. You hugged Jenna, Ashley, Jay and Tyler and gave an extra-long hug to Josh, whispering a quick but heartfelt thank you in his ear. You shook hands with Laura and Bill, thanking them for the lovely dinner. You were the last one to reach the car and as soon as you sat down, you realized you had forgotten your bag.

You ran back to the front door, reaching it just as Tyler, Jenna and Jay were about to leave. “I’ve left my bag.” You explained. Josh smiled. “I think my mom found it. She’s in the kitchen, go ask her.” You walked towards the kitchen, faintly hearing the voices of Laura and Bill. You reached the door, but before you could open it, you heard Laura mention your name inside. Curiosity getting the best of you, you stood as quiet as possible, trying to hear what they were saying. “I know, Bill. I’m just saying that I think she acted a little bit weird tonight. And the way she dressed!” You heard Laura say. “And she doesn’t seem to have any plans for the future.” Bill added. “Exactly. Well, let’s just hope Josh and Ashley don’t get too involved with her. She’s hardly a good example for anyone.” Laura continued. A small part of you hoped they weren’t talking about you, but when you knocked on the door and saw their faces as you entered, you knew it was you they were speaking about. So far for making a good impression.

[zed-air]

On the Road: 2018 Ottawa

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Wagons east! Next stop: Ottawa

Only visit thus far: 2018.

Click the “keep reading” link below for blog, photos, and more.

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TRAVEL / ARRIVAL /  LODGING

We left Toronto via VIA Rail bound for Ottawa, with the train making a few minor stops along the route. I don’t know how popular or utilized Canada’s train system is between Alberta and Manitoba, but I imagine it gets more-regular, higher-volume use in central and eastern Canada, and in the rockies. It’s a scenic way to travel, if you’re traveling someplace scenic. I’ve done plenty of European trains in the past, but only once previously in Canada, back in 2010, heading west from Montreal to Toronto. That first trip inspired some unexpected motion sickness (oddly jittery ride), and was plagued by neighbouring passengers loudly having an idiotic conversation. No such issues this time around. 

We sat in a booth-like configuration facing one another with a table between us and one stranger. Trip took about four hours, which passed well-enough, though my body wasn’t happy with me following the 12km Toronto walk I’d recently completed. Hard to get/stay comfortable when everything hurts. I spent most of the ride reading Anthony Bourdain’s A Cook’s Tour, and ate a pricey but strategic ham & cheese sandwich from the VIA menu.

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Upon arrival, we took the bus into town and then walked to our Air B&B near the university. The climate here, even during this part of the year, is sweltering and stiflingly humid. The unit where we stayed is a suite in an old house - one probably occupied by two students for the majority of the year. It had many signs of being hastily renovated by an amateur trying to spruce things up unsuccessfully. The layout was bizarre and bordering on non-functional in most rooms, and overall was grittier and dumpier than had been advertised. There was also no air conditioning, but thankfully there were two rotary fans available. Most evenings were spent reading on the awful little couch in the common area. 

The unit didn’t have a dishwasher machine, nor could I find a plug for the sink (which I didn’t notice was absent until our last night when I planned to do all the washing up at once). As a result, I’m not sure if the supplied dishes/flatware/etc had been washed properly by the owners or previous guests/tenants, or ever. (They... seemed clean?) So I had to improvise a solution in order to wash anything. But no AC in this climate, the bad layout, uncomfortable rooms, kitchen mysteries, etc. - and it was more expensive than the better one we’d just left in Toronto. I’d be unlikely to stay in this place ever again. 

RIDEAU STREET / ORIENTATION / TRANSIT

We were based near the University just south of Rideau. Other parts of the neighbourhood felt like they were peppered with drug dens, but no one caused trouble for us. From Rideau, we were able to reach the market nearby, as well as the parliament area and the interprovincial bridge. Pretty walkable and not likely to get lost. We walked a great deal, as usual. 

Rideau also had several grocery stores, along with record and book stores, and the Ottawa-branch of Steve’s Music (I’d also visited the same store in Toronto, but liked Ottawa’s better). I really did a lousy job exploring book/record shops on this trip, and missed out visiting any here.

Transit in Ottawa echoes Edmonton’s: unreliable. On a particularly hot afternoon where we had an appointment to keep, our bus passed us by without stopping, after already running late. Maybe their definition of “full “is different from ours. Later transit efforts proved more successful. There’s a lot of construction going on, as Ottawa works toward implementing an underground LRT system. 

BEST BREAKFASTS

All my best breakfasts in Ottawa involved smoked salmon. Zak’s Diner does a nice salmon and eggs plate with salad, potatoes, bagel, and beans. They also offer Benedicts, but given the “all-day breakfast” service, I wasn’t sure how fresh the Hollandaise would be. I didn’t regret my order. I like their slogan: “Don’t Starve!”

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Elsewhere in the market, The Original Continental Bagel Co. served decent Montreal-style bagels in various unpretentious sandwich presentations. I did lox, onions, and cream cheese. Solid breakfast, but not too heavy a start to the day.

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BEST DINNERS 

Bite Burger House serves a variety of different gourmet-meat burgers. Normally that’s not really my thing, but they did a good job of it. I had a swiss & mushroom burger, and and a surprisingly good Old Fashioned. And the leftover, mac & cheese ended up being our daughter’s supper for the next two nights. It was also good, and surprisingly rich. 

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Le Mein Craft Noodles was good but also ludicrous. They have a very small menu (half of which seems to only be available on weekends). So you basically order noodle bowls, some contain broth, some don’t. You pick your size of noodles, size of bowl, and level of spiciness. The missus and I had the same kind of soup, with different noodles. Hers was spicy and small (which was roughly the size of a large pho in most places). Mine was mild and large, and took up half the table. It was literally a tureen-sized bowl, probably with 2L of broth. And the noodles, while tasty, were almost impossible to lift because of their size. I ate as much as I could before we had to get the wee one to bed, and took the rest home. I’m not sure I received all of my broth in the container, though I suppose the noodles might have continued to absorb the fluid. There was virtually no broth in the container when I next opened it, sadly. 

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OTHER MEALS AND ALMOST MEALS

First food in town was down Rideau at the well-regarded Shawarma Palace. As it was near bed time, I walked over, grabbed a chicken shawarma platter takeaway, and we all shared it back at the house. Not bad, though the chicken was pretty dry by the time I got any in me. 

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Our main reason for the detour to Ottawa was to visit a friend of ours who now lives here. We haven’t seen her for several years. The Lieutenant’s Pump is a pub she recommended over in the Elgin area where we met her for lunch. They make a decent grilled-cheese-plus sandwich, though I wasn’t mad about the service. The shaded patio was nice on the hot day, but did give everything a yellow hue. Shaded or otherwise, the humidity was impossible to escape outdoors.

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On our last day in town, we again connected with our friend for lunch. After a long walk together, we stopped at another of her recommended joints in Little Italy: Pub Italia. I couldn’t really figure out the theme of the place, but it’s sort of an Irish Pub, in Little Italy, but decked out in lots of religious themes. A heavily air-conditioned curiosity. I offended our server by ordering a Ukrainian beer by its name, which apparently nobody else has ever done, and she refused to try and pronounce it once she understood what I’d ordered. L’vivs’ke Beer for breakfast, followed by a disappointingly cardboard-like Margherita pizza. The beer was good, though. 

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Another good idea on a hot day: blackberry and lemon gelato. Also gave this Harvey & Vern’s Cream Soda a try, though sodas and ice cream are only a good pairing if you mix them. 

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HISTORICAL BUILDINGS / MUSEUMS

My past has left me jaded and indifferent to most museums, galleries, and other historical fancy places. I’ve seen enough cathedrals, palaces, etc. to last a lifetime, and really don’t need to see any others - unless the subject matter is something very special to me. I didn’t bother entering the parliament or any of the Canadian Gov’t buildings while we were here, though my wife did explore some of those related to her interests. 

We did cross the Interprovincial Bridge and visited the Canadian Museum of History (formerly the Canadian Museum of Civilization) one afternoon. I best enjoyed the 20th Century area, but there’s lots of stuff here to explore if you’re into Canada as a subject. The wee one also enjoyed the museum’s area for children.

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We also visited the Victoria Memorial Museum toward the end of our stay. It contains lots of exhibitions to do with animals, plants, fossils, the sea, etc. Over their entrance is a large inflated jellyfish which my daughter has decided is her friend and for whom she authored an elaborate history. 

Given the time of year, it seems as though every school within 100km of Ottawa is scheduling their field trips to coincide with our visit. This place was overrun with groups of screaming teenagers, confused school children, and frazzled chaperones. Busy to the point of being difficult to walk around because you’d suddenly get swarmed, jammed-up, and passed-by, and it would happen again two minutes later. Several areas contained live animals in aquaria or in display cases, and too many people tapped, banged, yelled, or otherwise disturbed the inhabitants for my liking. 

Hard to enjoy yourself here, under the circumstances, which was a shame. 

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CITY ATTITUDE / STYLE / CLIMATE

I’ve had a hard time getting a sense of who/what Ottawa is during this stay. One of the strange things about the place is that it really feels like Edmonton, which was totally unexpected. Not in the sense of weather, of course, but in the architecture and general run-down feeling of several areas we visited. If Edmonton still had 100 year old walk-ups strewn about, the effect would be even stronger. Even our friend living in Ottawa thought so. It’s not a town I’ve ever given much thought to, so I don’t know what I expected going in - maybe, being a Federal capital, that it might have more of an international flavour to it. Other than hearing a lot more French spoken, I didn’t really get a sense of that. 

As I’ve already said, the weather here is bordering on inhuman for someone from the dry prairies. Most days were very warm. Every day was very humid. Another peculiarity: the hottest point of the day, every day, seemed to begin around 10:00PM (22:00), after dark, and then continued to intensify into the night, radiating through every room. Ottawa is further south than Edmonton, so the sky was dark around 9:00PM (21:00) every night, adding to the bizarre dynamic. 

Most of the areas of Toronto we visited had average-to-good-looking people dressed badly. On average, the people in Ottawa were dressed much better, but often more conservatively. Many people of all genders could be seen wearing shorts, though they fit better here - and given the ghastly humidity it’s almost hard to blame them. Almost. And, as was the case with the museums we visited, endless packs of tourist groups and students in the wilderness clogged sidewalks and doorways. 

LEAVING / AIRPORT

We really expected a deluge on our last day, thanks to the clouds and peak humidity, but it didn’t happen before we left. A rocky and prolonged bus ride took us to the airport, winding through the previously-unseen downtown before landing on a freeway area. The downtown looked rather like Edmonton’s too. Major areas of both cities must have been built-up heavily in the 1970s. 

The airport itself was fine, but curiously busy. A long, long line at security had other travellers confused as well. One woman near us who visits the airport regularly told me she’d never seen the security line so long before. No idea why today was different. Airport food is almost as notoriously uninteresting as airplane food. With few dining options in the terminal; we opted for pre-made cafe sandwiches - pricey but adequate. The airport had a small play area for toddlers, where our daughter played without issue for a long time and befriended any other kids who wandered into her domain. 

Air Canada can be hit-and-miss, but the fight home was one of the best I’ve had in years - and only marginally longer than a flight from Toronto would have been. This was an unfamiliar configuration of airplane - two rows of paired seats all the way down, rather than rows of three or some other stagger. I guess fewer people fly to Edmonton from Ottawa than from Toronto, hence the smaller plane. My seat-mate was unobtrusive enough to have not existed, which was nice. Our daughter nearly slept the whole way home, which mystified her parents as it has never happened before. 

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CLOSING THOUGHTS

Ottawa’s a bit of a question mark to me. I went in with no strong expectations, but left underwhelmed. It felt a lot like bizarro-Edmonton to me, and that’s kind of how I have to frame it. 

In my life, I’ve heard/read countless people who had no background in Edmonton criticize the city as ugly, formless, unnecessary, or any other number of pejorative descriptions. Though far from perfect, I never agreed with those assessments of Edmonton. But I have history there; they don’t. Those critics didn’t get Edmonton, and didn’t bother trying to. Having been to Ottawa, I think I understand how they felt for the first time. 

Ottawa: It’s Alright - not much of a slogan, but it fits. 

Our friend is happy living here, and I’m glad for that. Unless something changes someday, we’ve probably no reason to return. For better or worse, it didn’t really make much of an impression on me. 

[allaboutourtraveling-blog]

Yowah- Have I found my fortune?

Like I mentioned in my last post I went to Yowah. A small town in the outback 800 km west from Brisbane. I was looking through the backpacker groups on Facebook when there popped up this post of a guy who asked for some people to go out to Yowah Opal digging. I was a bit bored of traveling and in the mood to settle down at place again. So I told him that I’m interested and gave it a go. I took the train to Charleville and from there the bus to Cunnamulla where I finally met the guy who got me into that whole thing. His name is Daniel and he’s from Germany as well. We stayed overnight in Cunnamulla bought our gears for the digging and food for about a week. Then straight next to the road and hitch hiked within two more days to Yowah. We stayed on the free campsite which provides you everything you need- Toilets, shower (even with hot water out of a bore) and a place to cook in the evening over the fire. We were welcomed by a 50-60 years old guy called Andrew who Daniel knew from the two stays he had there already. Andrew gave us mattresses to sleep on and invited us to come over to his place for a soup in the evening.

Already on the campsite where little pieces with colour in there laying around which was thrown away by other people because it was mostly worthless stuff and/or not cutable. The next day we started the Opal real hunt. We did some noodling what means looking through the soft top layer. And again, there were some bits of colour. Daniel explained me that the Opal miners from like 50- 60 years often just were searching for the pure Opal. All the other stuff they just left behind. But we couldn’t find pieces that are worth to cut. Often, they had cracks, were in a wrong shape or just hadn’t enough Opal on/in them. After another day of doing that we decided to try out the shuffles we brought out there. We started to extend the hole of the Austrian family in town which settled down there for a year because they found quite nice stuff in exactly this hole not long ago. After just 5 minutes of digging Daniel found a really nice piece that we actually could get cut. Discovering this piece motivated us to go on in this hole but even after me digging 3-4 metres deep we couldn’t find more than traces of colour. Even after me coming across an old shaft that was partially filled up again. There wasn’t any opal anymore. So already before I finished my hole Daniel decided to move on and started digging under a tree about 10-15 metres away from me. After like an hour of digging he called me to come over. He showed me a crack in the stone. He found a foldline in the ground what the miners are normally looking for. Opal is formed by water that rinses down silica particles through the stone over thousands of years and a crack/ fold is pretty good and makes the chance even higher to let Opal form.

A couple of days after it started to rain what happened about 18 months ago the last time. It was too heavy for our $15 tents so we had to move and found shelter under a roof on the campsite. The lovely people in town said we could come over if it gets to bad but it didn’t. The night before at the Thursday night dinner in the caravan park in town a guy told us of a street a bit out of Yowah where they used gravel out of one of the mines. We couldn’t go digging anyway so we decided to try out this street. The rain cleaned the stones up a bit so it would be easier to see colour if there is any. We found a few nice pieces and got five stones cut and polished. We got it done by one of the local cutters. He charges us 20 dollars per stone. He reckons that the stones are worth like 100-150 dollars each- depends on the stone. Later the day one of Daniels mates arrived. His name is Kai and he just came over to Australia to go digging for Opal like Daniel. We went out on the Blackgate Rd again the next day and found some more stones to be cut. Back at the fossicking area Kai started a new hole and I finished my hole because it was too dangerous to go deeper. So I began to dig a hole on the other side of Daniels tree because the fold seemed pretty promising. Actually, I found some decent stones but after bashing a nut with the crowbar open (The Opal forms normally inside a stone surrounded of a solid iron stone layer. That’s the way how it appears in Yowah. Because of this, Yowah is a place where a lot of boulder opal comes from). The nut was torn apart and not useable anymore. The hole didn’t really bring us much more just a lot of work and fun- What’s the whole thing about it. You shouldn’t really go there with the thinking of finding the million-dollar stone. Kai just found the clay layer about three metres deep in his hole. So this is normally a good sign, but that was at the end of Kais and my stay and we couldn’t really go on anyway. The reason is obvious. I accidentally chocked of the tree over our hole.

So yeah on one of our last days it rained and we headed out on the Blackgate Rd again. After filling our bucket with a couple of stones Kai suddenly stopped at a one stone- an almost complete nut with a really beautiful bit of colour looking out of the open side. He showed me the piece and I instantly knew that that’s the found we were looking for. We yelled after Daniel (he is kind of the expert in the group) to come over and when he looked at it he was sure as well that this is something more than a $100 stone. We went back to our tents and were really hyped about the stone. The next day we went to our cutter to have a look over it. When we showed it to him he wasn’t really sure what to do with it. Another local guy came into the shop and gave him advice about the spots where to cut it. So he did but ways carefully than the stones before and I saw that even he was a bit nervous.

In the moment, the other guy saw the stone he said he would give us $50 for it, after the first cut he said $200 and after the second one he offered us $1000 but we knew that we can’t say yes to it. We left our cutter with the material and picked it up two days later. The day before Kai was supposed to leave. I think we have kind of found our fortune or to say it in a different way- The money to pay the flights back to Australia to find more of it. But we must take the stones with us to Germany. They are ways more worth over there and we have to find the right buyer first. That could take a few years.

The time there was amazing and I’m really happy that I decided to go there. I think our group worked out really good and because of Daniel, Kai and the friendly locals I had an awesome time there. Happy to go back there sometime.

Even if it seems to just be a place in the middle of nowhere it was really nice to have a break from all the coast stress that I had the weeks before. When we didn’t work we mostly enjoyed our spare time in the artesian spa which only cost $2,50 and is warmed up with the hot water out of the bore. After a while the café in town opened and we could chill there on the veranda eating one or sometimes two portions of chips and charging our phones.

My stay ended with the stay of Kai who had to leave to catch his flight back home. In the morning, he was about to leave the women who should take him close to Brisbane said they would leave town later. We decided spontaneously that we just all go with her. Kai had to go anyway, Daniel was happy to have a longer break and it was a chance to find more people for that adventure and I had to go back to the coast at some point. It was the perfect opportunity for us. After fixing the flat battery and tire we were ready to leave but the woman wasn’t. Cause it was just about to bring the car of the teacher to Ipswich (She had to move there a couple of months before. The last two kids in the Yowah school left with their family. She was unemployed though). We left quite late and had to stop at some point at one point because of all the wildlife coming out. The next day we arrived at the teacher’s place stayed overnight and left the next day to Brisbane where we split up.

[rehnro]

Instruct a man, you instruct an individual. Instruct a woman, you instruct a nation. (Moroccan proverb)

Checking into Morocco: The trip to Morocco didn’t get off too well when my flight from Munich was delayed the evening before leaving me with only two or three hours of sleep between repacking and a 6am flight from Stansted. It did work out in the end and Ryanair’s service levels didn’t fail to remind that you should not use them unless there is really no alternative. The flight was smooth and we landed a bit ahead of time leaving just the border to clear. Easier said than done. All foreigners have to fill a landing card, but there was zero pens available. So put a smile on and borrow one. Took me 20min in total (good I wasn’t in a rush I guess). Next stop was my rental car. At €50 for the two days plus petrol it seemed a good choice. Avoids having to go the center to get a lift for same or more fare in some dodgy old car. Especially on the way back the additional flexibility should come handy. The funny thing was first that you have to return the car with a quarter of the tank full and secondly cars needs to be clean in and outside. Given the state of the roads to Imlil (base village for Toubkal hikers) this means I need to get a car wash sorted prior to return or just pay some €12 for them to do it (I am certain that this add-on is a firm part of their profit margin ;o).

Getting to Imlil: With data on my BT mobile priced at £5/mb (!) I had little desire to use google maps or any data for that matter. So normal navigation by asking actual people (that don’t speak English all that well) was on the menu. Unusual these days. The signposts were close to useless due to lack of signs or them being all in Arabic. However, a petrol warden drew me a simple map that worked spot on. The 75-80km from Marrakech airport to Imlil to me about 90mins and allowed for a start at 1.15pm.

Hiking up to ‘Refuge du Toubkal‘: I had some bread first given I hadn’t had a proper meal since my Schnitzel at Munich airport last night and got water. Off we go and this time not with a crazy heavy bag, but say 15kg (the new camera & go pro & batteries adding back some of the saved weight from new equipment). Overall it required a moderate 4h 45min total to hike up ~1,500m over 10km distance to reach the refuge at 3,207m. This time I arrived at 6pm and hence before sunset. Many of the people I passed on the way would arrive 2h later or I didn’t see them at all (one English couple/friends I asked if they had torches given their speed would mean they finish in darkness and can end in tears).

The weather looked initially worse than back in December as it was snowing in Imlil already (1,740m altitude). However, not as much gusty wind and no comparison to the rain/snow storm last time. Views were limited to say the least given the precipitation. Most importantly though given the again tight timetable of two days, the forecasts were for fine weather Tuesday am and only little new snow (vs 25cm last time). Next bigger snow is only expected Wednesday pm (10-15cm). It was very cold though closer to the refuge (-10 degrees?) and even my ice climbing gloves didn’t cut the mustard. Good to have mitts as back-up though I will try the Muntain Hardwear ice climbing gloves to start.

Recharging batteries at the refuge: After check-in and some hot tea, I had to rest for a good hour to recoup strength. Been a long day. After a solid dinner (chicken, potato, carrots, soup, bread, tea) it was time to prepare for tomorrow (about 2.2km distance in steep upwards terrrain including just under 1,000m altitude gain to the summit at 4,167m). Breakfast at 6.30am. Not early enough for sunrise, but before the snow gets warm. Most importantly … I hope my watch will fix the navigation aspect this time (having failed miserably once before). The Toubkal route was the first thing I programmed when I got my Suunto Ambit Peak 3 recently.

One tip – don’t forget your passport: A Dutch / Moroccan couple left their passports in their Imlil hotel when they decided to go hiking at short notice. She had to get her mum to confirm passport details or be refused to stay at the refuge. That’s pretty stupid of the refuge people to say the least. You are a refuge for a reason and sending unprepared hikers back down in darkness is only asking for trouble. Not really an issue for international travellers, but be warned still.

Reaching North Africa’s highest peak: After a brief breakfast I set out at 7am. I think only the english bloke who also stayed in my room left earlier (5.30ish). This time I took the correct valley up and since it was daylight already it was hard to miss. Soon after me five Italian ski mountaineers followed suit as well as a British  group of three hikers. The snowfall hadn’t been too bad though there was some trail-breaking required on the less frozen parts of the route. Here the Italians on their ski’s had a much faster pace. Weather wise there were some clear patches early on, but soon clouds arrived, wind set in and temperatures dropped well below zero (eventually I had to put on my mitts). The route is pretty much a straight line up te valley until you reach the ridge, which you follow for anothwr 30mins to the summit. My pace was relatively moderate, but steady and I reached the top at 11.30am after 4,5h for the 1,000m altitude gain. Mission accomplished! Both the Italians and the English team beat me to it, but that’s not important (they went to bed after while I felt in strong condition to push all the way down). Thinner air was a headwind while physical fitness was rock solid. After an uneventful 30mins at the summit (for there was little to see unfortunately) and a few refreshments, I made my way back down and reached the refuge 13.45. Parts of the way down you can actually slide on your bum and I once more appreciated the GPS on my Suunto that gave confidence even when visibility dropped to 5-10m.

Get me out of here! My desire to spend more time at the refuge (I had considered lunch) dropped significantly when I realised that ‘someone’ had opened the two dry bags I left behind (probably the same guy that charged me €2 for one cup of tea!). Nothing was missing (I took my money with me), but it’s just sad. I did let the guys know that this not cool, but the response only I got was that i should have put my stuff in (their) locker. Very helpful. This and the rip-off culture of Marrakesh really leave a bad image of Morocco (I have been advised since that outside Marrakesh its much better). By 2pm I was back on the trail, which remained largely snow-covered and new snow kept on coming. Without a single stop (apart from a few conversations with hikers heading up) it took 3h back to the car in Imlil.

Lost in Marrakesh: Driving the 80km back were uneventful. Life got a little trickier when I drove into the city center without a map or clue (still without mobile data). I found a parking space near the great square and took it gladly (€7/night were a rip-off, but I didn’t care after 10hours hiking and two hours driving today). Then quickly across the bazar and into the medina (old town) to hopefully find the Cafe Arabic that firstly sells a much desired cold beer (otherwise really hard to come by) and secondly has decent wi-fi. The latter was important as I still needed a place to sleep (it was 8.30pm by now). The issue is to find your way round the medina. Not even google maps works here. After trying my luck alone I ended up tipping a guy to get me there. Within 30mins I had my beer, spaghetti carbonara, booked a great hostel nearby and had caught up with events. Prices in this cafe are very much like home (i.e. expensive), food quality very average and the guests almost exclusively expats and tourists. But its nice and a welcome refuge from the craze of the buzzing markets. From there the maze continued and I needed one more guy to get me to the hostel (I paid him €4 to do so … so pretty much like an ‘Uber’ minimum fare (£5 in London) or a 15min taxi ride to the airport (MAD40) … but he wasnt happy still!).

Quality time at Equity Point Hostel: I checked in around 9pm. The value deal was for €9/night including breakfast. Respect though I would miss breakfast that is only served 8am to 10am. As most places in the old town, the building looks rather shabby from the outside. Once you get in, you’ll find plenty of space, a pool, a roof top and a bar (even showing Champions league with City beating Monaco 5:3 & selling drinks). The best thing about hostels is that you usually meet people and equity point didn’t let me down. After a quick shower I met 4 of my 6 room mates in the bar. On one hand two brothers from New Zealand (not that I would have guessed, Nico and Deniro?). Nico is an engineer involved in the new Tottenham stadium (to make some money for the next travel I gathered) and the other a lawyer who is about to start a 6mth job with HSBC in Hong Kong. They had managed to get hold of two local coats from €35 each today and now blended in well into the streets of Marrakesh. On the other there were two French girls who are teachers as I understood and just spent 3 weeks working in Southern Morocco (Clo & Julie). Over a few bottles of wine we touched probably on every main topic there is. Politics (in Europe, US and even NZ), refugees, religion, backgrounds (the brothers have been travelling a lot over the years), favorite travel destinations, socialism vs capitalism, Australian binge drinking and aggression, global warming, London’s drug culture  (list not exhaustive by any means!) …  you name it! One of the brothers had trekked to Everest base camp in January this year and so we had a good amount of chat on mountains and Nepal too. Loved every moment and really hope our paths’ will cross again!

The three arabic words I picked up …

‘BsaHa’ – cheers / May god give you health

‘Jamal’ = Camel

‘Djellaba’ – Traditional Berber robe (what the two kiwi’s wear in the picture)

Key takeaways: Visit this place in central turkey (I forget the name Clo ;o), Brasil (Julie lived there for a year also teaching i believe), New Orleans (best nightlife ever according to Nico), don’t work for Australian farmers (they rip you off apparently though farm work doubles the length of your stay I learned), take a solar charger to Nepal and buy a local SIM.

After six hours sleep and an actually painless transfer to the airport (I even had time to get the car washed … out of principle) it was time to say good-bye. I guess I have to come back to see the ‘other Morocco’ one day.

وداعا

(‘wadaeaan’ – goodbye)

Morocco’s cold shoulder: Climbing Jebel Toubkal Instruct a man, you instruct an individual. Instruct a woman, you instruct a nation. (Moroccan proverb)