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weirdducky17 · 5 months ago

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‧₊˚ ┊ 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕖𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕤 ┊‧₊˚

ᴀ ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ

(A/N: Sorry if the characters feel OOC, I'll try to write them as accurately as possible.)

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Amongst the many students mingling around the cafeteria, Team Stan and Team Craig have gathered to their own shared lunch tables like they always did in the everyday school cycle, some oe the cheerleaders also sitting in with them today. Topics were thrown around and subjects coming and going at a fast rate, yet one topic seemed to catch everyone's attention.

"Hey, whatever happened to that list the girls made?" Stan brings up out of the blue as everyone glanced over to him, most in confusion and some in slight familiarity.

"Which one?" Wendy asks as she was the one who was the most aware about the lists that were being mandated by the alliance of girls.

"I think he's talking about the one that got leaked at 4th grade, it was who's cutest boy in our class." Calista explains to her as recognition soon washed over them.

"Oh yeahh, wasn't it like lost just one day?" Tolkien hummed at the thought as most of them did now know how that list disappeared.

"Y-Yeah.. well.." Wendy and Kyle shared a knowing glance towards each other.

"Yeah! I was the chad of the whole class." Clyde boasted rather proudly, adjusting his school jersey as if it were an expensive suit. Craig rolled his eyes at this.

"First, never use the word Chad again to describe yourself. Second, It was pretty obvious it was rigged. The girls just wanted shoes from you." He scoffed as he leaned onto the table on his elbows, a juice box in his hand as he drank it obnoxiously loud to annoy Clyde.

"No it wasn't! Everyone thought I was hot!!"

"Not everyone, let's be honest here." Tolkien gave him a blank stare.

"S-So-Sorry man." Jimmy gave him an apologetic smile.

"Fuck no, you were an uggo Clyde." Cartman says mid bite on a big mac he brought with him to school.

"W-What the hell!!" The brunette teared up at the lack of support from his friends. "G-Girls??" He looked to the feminine side of the table.

"Wellll." Bebe looks away, face scrunched up in slight guilt.

"It was rigged." Wendy tells him, plain and simple.

"What?! It was rigged?!"

"Next time, don't brag about your dad having a shoe store." Kenny snickers at the expense of his friend, watching the dejected Donovan practically melt onto the lunch table in his own misery.

"The actual list at the time was destroyed as far as we know." Red shrugged, not knowing much on how that issue went down.

"Do you guys still make lists?" Stan questions the girls as they all collectively nodded.

"Well yeah, we have nothing better to do. We still have the list committee up and running, Nelly was promoted as the head of it now with Rebecca making sure no corruption or rigging is involved." Wendy explains whilst eyeing Bebe, who shyed away from her intense gaze by looking down at her nails to distract herself.

"Best Outfit of the Day, Which makeup brands are the best, even who has the cutest purse. I, for one, cannot wait for this month's cutest accessories!" Red explains in detail, excited and giddy in her own seat.

"Pretty sure my accessories aren't gonna make the top ten." Calista chuckled as the ladies insisted that accessories can be timeless.

"Are you ladies done chattering?" Cartman cuts in snidely as Wendy shot him a heated glare.

"Are you done making out with that big mac?" She snapped back at him.

"AT LEAST THIS BIG MAC CAN KISS FUCKING BETTER THAN YOU CAN, TESTABURGER! SUCK MY DICK! BACK ME UP STAN!"

"The fuck? No?" Stan looks at him, disgruntled as he wasn't even involved in the fight to begin with.

"That's enough you guys." Kyle sighs, massaging his temples.

"But Kyle!" "But Kahl!"

"It's 10 in the morning, not now." The ginger groaned in protest.

"Says him." Calista snickers quietly as she elbows Kenny next to her, who joined her in the teasing.

"Say, do you guys still make the cutest boys list in class?" Kenny asks her curiously.

"Yeah but that's classified info." She shrugs in response, handing him the rest of her lunch which he gratefully accepted.

"It's under much stricter regulations, it's never gonna get leaked again." Red assures him as Butters looks away from his conversation with Tweek to peer at her.

"Can you tell us who's the top 5 though?" He grinned at her sweetly, trying to pry info out of her with his cutesy nature.

"Nope. Nada. You're not getting anything from us." Bebe huffed with a cross of her arms.

"Come onnn! We have to know!" Butters insisted.

"Ca-Can't say that I'm c-cur-cur-curi— interested in knowing what the new lists are." Jimmy adds onto this happily.

"You guys acted like assholes when it got leaked, fuck no." Wendy shook her head.

"We just wanna know who the ugliest bitch is." Cartman rolled his eyes. "So we know who to mess with in class for being ugly as shit."

"'We' as in you, only you Cartman." Kyle scoffs at this

"People like you Eric... and Clyde—"

"Hey!!"

"—are the reason why we can't release it!" Calista scolds them rather harshly, standing up from her chair and does hand gestures to emphasize her point.

"It'll just get in your head and make you insecure! Kyle tried to burn down the school for christ's sake!"

"You didn't have to mention that.." Kyle groans in embarrassment and shame, burying his face into the palm of his hand.

"My point still stands! We are never releasing the newest results!" She ended the insistence rather swiftly, sitting back down with a huff as Kenny pats her shoulder in a comforting manner.

"Fucking bitch." Cartman mumbled grumpily.

"What was that, Cartman?"

"Fucking nothing!"

"If I were to speculate on who would be in the top 5, Tolkien and probably Stan would be there." Butters brings up to the surprise of everyone.

"Wait huh?" Stan blinks at this.

"Come on Stan, you're popular and part of the football team. Isn't that like the literal definition of attractive in most romance movies?"

"I mean yeah but I don't think I'm cut out for that?" He laughs nervously and scratched his cheek.

"I agree on the Tolkien vote." Calista pipes up from her seat.

"Huh— Cal!" Kyle looks at her in disbelief and slight disappointment.

"What? I'm being honest here." She pouts at this as Kenny pokes her side.

"Why Tolkien though? Besides like being rich."

"Before someone says shit, this is my opinion." She hissed as everyone at the table seemingly leaned in to listen closely to this. Besides Eric who was busy taking food off Kyle's lunch.

"Firstly, yes Tolkien being rich is a big factor. Secondly, tall, dark and handsome has always been a classic among girls—"

"Seriously, Calista?" Craig gave her a deadpanned look, his mouth pulled into a straight line.

"Shut up Craig! Shut! Keep your lips from flapping!"

"Fine! Jesus christ..."

"To continue after I was rudely interrupted, Tolkien is part of the martial arts club. He also has good grades, plus he's a stud and he's dating Nichole!!" Calista exclaims out in emphasis, gesturing to the dark skinned boy who looked flustered but happy from her words.

"W-Wow, thanks dude."

"No problem bro." She hummed in response, exchanging a fist bump with him as the table chattered about her words.

"Yeahh, Cal has a point." Red adds into the conversation with a soft nod of her head.

"D-Dude just got an e-ego-ego boost." Jimmy snickers at how much Tolkien was blushing and also grinning widely.

"Ugh, dude.." Kyle mumbles out in disappointment at her words as Stan pats his shoulder comfortingly, the two seeming to know something the rest do not on why he was affected.

"Chill out Kyle, you're pretty cute yourself. I'd be surprised if you didn't make it the top ten." Calista assures him, unaware about how relieved this made him.

Even if she didn't call him a stud, Kyle was still satisfied about being called cute at least.

Things eventually settled as the new stream of conversation eventually overrides the previous topic. It wasn't long until the school bell rings to indicate that class was about to start and so all the students eventually packed up and left their seats to head towards their individual classes.

⊹ ‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

The chime of the last school bell rang out and echoed within the halls, indicating the end of classes today for the teenagers of South Park High. Some piled into their friends' vehicles and others taking the school bus to their homes, something strange was happening.

In every stop at a girl's house, they just stood there without a step further even as the school bus drove away to the next house and eventually turned the corner. A white van careening after the bus disappeared and picked up girl after girl, soon making their way towards the rest of the streets to repeat the process.

"What are you doing?" Craig looks towards his cousin who stood idly at the front of their lawn. Confusion evident in his usually blank expression.

"Me and the girls are hanging out at Bebe's house, she's gonna pick me up. Uncle Thomas and Aunt Laura already know." Calista explains rather quickly, holding her yellow, crossbody bag's strap close to her.

"Okay? Just don't stay out late." Craig was still confused but decided to just let her do her thing, not like he could stop her anyways, trudging his way back into his house after a long day of school.

Calista looks away after Craig made his way into their house, standing their quietly with her phone in hand. Text after text was exchanged until a red convertible pulled up just in fromt of her.

"Get in bitch!" Bebe calls out to her in an exaggerated valley girl accent. A pair of cat eyed shades on her face, the same shade as the convertible as she was leaning back in the driver's seat with a hand on the wheel.

"Hey, Cal." Nichole waves from the passenger seat, phone in hand as she was the one that was communicating with her through text.

Calista waves at them, an amused grin on her face, as she made her way towards the car and promptly got into the back seat where Nelly was napping. Making sure not to disturb the sleeping girl, she strapped herself with the seatbelt as the curly haired blonde eventually drove off to their hangout.

⊹ ‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It was near dusk in the sleepy town of South Park, most of the residences have already retreated into their houses after the busy day and the town's center had slowed down from the lack of people going in and out from shops.

A red convertible and a white van was parked just in front of Mister Slave and Big Gay Al's house, the vehicles emptied out hours ago. The nearby park looked empty at first but unbeknownst to the residents possessing of a dick, the women's bathrooms were having quite the eventful evening.

"Sunshine sparkle, Annie Knitts has the floor." Nelly calls out.

"If it pleases and sparkles, I suggest that we continue further deliberations about List 384H: which girl has the best haircut on this month of July."

"Annie moves that we should consider futher discussion on List 384H? Does that sparkle with you girls?"

"Sunshine!!"

"Deliberating which girl has the best haircut, Jenny has the floor."

"If it pleases and sparkles, I'd like to submit that due to Allie Nelson's transition to a Hime Cut this month. I vote that she be elevated in her position on the list, even better than Monica's pigtails and Ashley's braids."

"Sparkle, Sunshine. I vote in favor of this submission, I totally think that Allie's hime cut is deserving of the top ten. Plus she dyed the tips of her hair recently so it must have extra points for it to be elevated in its previous ranking."

"Are there more girls who vote to have Allie's hime cut be higher in the ranking of the best haircuts in the month of July."

Several hands were held up, holding up BTS light up sticks that shone a bright green shade to indicate their agreement on this decision.

"Then it is decided that Allie's haircut will be evaluated for its proper spot on the list, while it is not guaranteed it will make it to the top ten, the list committee will be making swift changes to the current ranking. Sparkle, sparkle." A gavel was struck down on its wooden block.

"Sunshine!!"

"Sunshine sparkle, Calista Tucker has the floor."

"If it pleases and sparkles, I'd like to encourage further discussion on List 563C: Who is the cutest boy in class?"

"Sparkle sparkle, Calista submits that we should further discussions of List 563C: Who is the cutest boy in class. Does that sparkle with everyone?"

"Sunshine!!"

"Sunshine sparkle, is there someone you'd like to elevate in terms of ranking on this month's list? Of course girls are still able to apply for more submissions, though I am surprised that you're raising this discussion Calista. You haven't been actively involved in the rankings before, besides voting of course."

"I know that, let's just say I should get more involved after a talk today with my friends."

"Well then, who would you like to appraise for the list rankings?"

"Kyle Broflovski and Kenny McCormick."

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ummm-okay · 3 months ago

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#ummm-okay #isabelle sharp x leopold fitz #isabelle sharp x leo fitz #leopold fitz x oc #leo fitz #isabelle sharp #the albatross

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pufftheninja · 2 years ago

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Happy Pride Month! 🌈✨💜

Repost of some old art to celebrate.

———

If you’d like to commission me, please fill out the form here: https://linktr.ee/cailinpeters 🍙💜

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alovelyfox · 6 months ago

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Chapter 13: A spark

A poof of red curly hair above the crowd is the only sight that snaps you out of your disassociation. The party was coming along nicely, a lot better than anyone would’ve thought considering the amount of people invited versus the amount here. Yet, none of them faces you recognize. But Wendy’s ecstatic about the turn out, considering how she’s been glued to the grill all day, not letting anyone leave the party without trying her new burger recipe.

“It’s halal and kosher!” She keeps declaring, making you help her hand out plates to any passersby who didn’t already have one. You don’t mind, of course. She was one of three people you even know here, with Stan on the phone in the corner while Butters is waiting in line for the bathroom.

But the entrance of Kyle was enough to pull you out of your soulless stupor, and you can’t help smiling as his eyes search for yours over the hordes of people. He makes his way over, but your grin slightly falters as you see who he has behind him.

Maria. He actually brought her, you think. She hadn’t been mentioned by Kyle since he went out with her for dinner the day you met Ike, but you had heard snippets about their relationship from the rest of the group. You did vaguely remember Stan saying she was invited to come here, and while Stan may say something then do something completely different, it was nice to know Kyle was a little more mature. Even if this was the one time you wish he hadn’t been.

He brings her over and you can’t help skim over her outfit. Very… festive. You couldn’t deny she was an extremely attractive woman, but she looked nothing like you. And if Kyle showing up with a girl your polar opposite wasn’t enough of a signal that he didn’t like you, it was hard to see what was.

“Hey, Wendy, Y/N. This is Maria, my-”

“Friend. I’m his friend,” she says, cutting him off. He gives her a sideward glance, and sighs before pressing his mouth into a thin line.

“I gotta say Wendy, this is a really cool party! I could never host so many people, but you’re making it look easy,” Maria says, giving Wendy an affectionate smile. Wendy slightly blushes at the compliment, but tries to remain a steady face as she gives a modest thank you.

They converse about such and such little more, and as much as you try to help it, your eyes wander towards Kyle. He shifts uncomfortably where he’s standing, all enthusiasm from entering the party forgotten. You wanna ask if he’s okay, but he tugs on Maria’s arm under the guise of introducing her to more people, and drags her away before you can even open your mouth.

Wendy flips a couple patties then turns her attention towards you.

“You alright?” She asks in a soothing tone.

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Okayy,” she says, averting her gaze back to the grill. “It’s just that, I know you have feelings for Kyle, and he just kinda showed up with another girl. So I thought-”

“Maria said they were just friends, so I’m not too worried,” you reply, and Wendy gives you some serious side eye but smiles and nods. You excuse yourself to get a drink and try to collect your thoughts.

There was no fucking way that Maria and Kyle were just friends. How they walked into the party holding hands, how comfortable Kyle was touching her, the way she barely resisted when he grabbed her arm and pulled her away. Fuck. But she said they were just friends, and you would rather believe that lie than face the truth, that the chances of you and Kyle getting together were getting slimmer and slimmer.

You grab a beer and let the liquid flow down your throat, trying to numb the ache in your heart. It works, while making the dance floor look more and more attractive. You gulp the rest of the bottle and set it on the table before making your way to the heart of the party as it blazes around you.

You have never been one for dancing, but the nervousness loosens as the bass pumps through your bones, making you dull to your surroundings. Yet you still feel the piercing green stare of a certain red-head watching you through the crowds, his eyes not leaving your body for a second as he intently watches you glide across the dance floor. Maria’s sitting beside him, looking bored and ready for a distraction, yet none comes as her ‘friend’ can’t tear his gaze away from you.

…

The party carries on, with you trying your best to avoid Kyle. The way he was watching you out there an hour ago ignites all your five senses, and you’d much rather ignore him than figure out what it meant. However, the universe decides it wants a little entertainment, and when you go to sit down and take a break from dancing, you find yourself sitting next to an inattentive Maria.

Shit.

“Maria, hi!” You open the conversation with, as not saying anything feels rude considering she’s done nothing wrong other than date your potential future husband.

“Oh, Y/N! Hey, I’ve heard so much about you from Kyle, sorry we didn’t get much of a chance to talk when he introduced us,” she exclaims, and you try not to let the fact that he talks about you to his girlfriend get your hopes up.

“Oh yeah, he mentions you all the time as well,” you lie, and a look of sadness sweeps across her face.

“He does? Oh…. You know, he told me you two work together at the law firm. I always thought lawyers were hot, with their big briefcases and fancy suits.”

You can’t help but laugh out loud at her suggestion. “You’re thinking of corporate lawyers, we’re not that. Nah, unless you find permanent raccoon eyes and working late hours hot, I don’t know what you’d see in Kyle.”

“You’re right, I’m just using him for his body,” she replies with a wink, and you choke on some air at her sudden bluntness.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess his body is fine,” you stammer out. “But I don’t know, I really like how passionate he gets about the things he cares about, how he’s kind to everyone he meets, the respect he shows-”

You cut yourself off when you realize how weird this sounds, rattling off all the things you loved about Kyle to the girl he was sleeping with. She tilts her head slightly in confusion, then gives you a soft smile.

“Funny, those sound like the same things he said he liked about you.”

You stand up suddenly and excuse yourself, trying to avoid her gaze so she won’t see the heat steadily creeping up on your face. Making your way back onto the dance floor, you find Wendy, who Stan’s managed to pry away from the grill, and dance with her, wishing the thoughts of Kyle away.

…

The setting sun signals the end of the party, and most people drift back home. Your bladder makes the decision to retire from the floor and go upstairs to relieve yourself. You take the lock off the bathroom, something you put there to stop the entire city from flooding your toilet. Finishing up, you’re about to go back down when a ray of light hits your face from an open window. The gentle breeze flowing in causes you to rest your arm on the windowsill and simply stare out into the horizon, it’s glowing aura drawing you in. You feel almost sleepy, but rising voices from below startle you awake.

“Maria, please.”

The unmistakable sound of Kyle makes you stop breathing, and you can tell from his pleading tone that this is probably a conversation they’d like to have in private. Yet, your feet won’t drag you away, your body too curious to hear what they’re gonna say to each other. So you duck down, knees bent to be up to your chin, and listen in.

“If you have something you want to say, be direct,” Maria says, the harshness of her voice indicating that she’s disgruntled.

“It’s just… It’s annoying that you introduced yourself as my friend to everyone today. I thought inviting you here was my way of saying that I wanted to be more than that. More than ‘just friends’.”.

“Kyle, you knew that this was always meant to be a casual thing. We both planned for it to be, anyways.”

“Well, plans change. My feelings have changed, at least, I don’t want to be just a casual thing anymore.”

She scoffs, and her next words come out in such a humorous voice she sounds like she’s saying a joke.

“Have your feelings for that Y/N girl changed?”

You slightly gasp at the sudden mention of your name, then clamp your hand over your mouth to avoid making any further sound. Kyle’s silence to Maria’s question causes her to continue.

“God, I was around you guys not even a full day, yet even I can see there’s something between the two of you, whether you wanna admit it or not. And no matter how hard you try to force a relationship between us, in reality all you’ll ever really want is ‘something casual’ until you can have something more serious with her.”

All three of you are silent for a moment, then Kyle mutters something you can barely make out.

“It’s not like that.”

Maria sighs, and you can hear the disappointment in her voice.

“I’m gonna go. Thank you for everything Kyle, truly. But delete my number from your phone, and fucking ask that poor girl out already.”

You make out her softly walking away and Kyle crumbling to the floor, the image of what his anguished face must look like embedded into your mind, despite how you can’t even see him from where you’re sitting. It causes your body to jump into action as you rush out of the bathroom and fly down the stairs, desperately searching for Wendy. You find her dancing with Stan, her arms lovingly wrapped around his neck as his own cradles her waist. You pause, wondering if it’s the best idea to interrupt this tender moment with your own worries, but Stan’s hands start to travel down to Wendy’s ass and you decide to separate the two before the dance floor turns into an orgy.

Disregarding Stan’s cries of annoyance, you grab Wendy’s hand and drag her inside.

“What the fuck is going on?” She asks, obviously sensing your panicked manner.

You let it all pour out of you, all of what you heard during your sneaky eavesdropping on Kyle and Maria. You feel ashamed that you were privy to one of your best friends' most private moments, but when you finish the retelling, Wendy has an excited look on her face.

“Y/N. This is it. This is your opportunity.”

The confused look on your face urges her to grab you by the hands and pull you back outside, a couple feet away from where Kyle is sitting with his head tucked between his knees and his hands on the back of his neck. The air around him reeks of dejection, but Wendy doesn’t seem to care.

“Girl, this is your chance,” she whispers in your ear. “Tell him how you feel right now.”

You start to voice your lack of approval with what she wants you to do, but she doesn’t wanna hear it, instead pushing you towards him and subsequently running away.

You mentally wish a thousand curses on her family, then take a seat beside Kyle. His head hangs low between his slightly parted legs, so you unconsciously pat him on the back, trying to reassure him everything’s gonna be fine. He softly turns his head to the side, his eyes gradually opening until they go wide upon realizing who you are. He abruptly stands up and takes several steps back from you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

You also decide to stand, and clear your throat to tell him what you know. But his expression resembles one of a deer caught in headlights, and fearing that the truth might send him running, you lie.

“Oh, I was just, uhhh… Well I noticed that you and Maria had been gone for a while, and I’d wondered where the two of you had gotten to. Or if you’d decided to leave without saying goodbye.”

He sighs, then rakes a hand through his curls.

“She left. Sorry.”

“Oh,” you say, feigning disappointment. “Well, I really liked having her.”

“That’s too bad, considering she probably won’t be around anymore.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, shifting uncomfortably on your spot.

He scoffs.

“Why? You barely knew her.”

“Kyle,” you say, giving him an indicative look. “I’m not an idiot, I know you two weren’t ‘just friends’.”.

He sighs again, before turning his eyes towards the ground.

“Well, apparently that’s all we were to her.”

You take a step towards him, and put on an encouraging smile.

“Don’t worry. You’ll find someone right for you one day.”

He looks at you through his knitted eyebrows, then takes a step towards you, closing the gap so you’re both only a foot away from one another.

“So what do I do if I already found that… someone right?”

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine from the intensity of his gaze, and gulp.

“Kyle,” you say delicately. “I know you’re hurting right now, but I don’t wanna just be some rebound girl that you use to get over the one you actually want.”

He exhales, then stares at you directly, as if he needs what he’s about to say to be engraved in your mind for all eternity.

“Don’t you get it? You’re the one I want.”

You try to turn your head and look anywhere but his pleading eyes.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” you murmur, but he ignores your words and takes your face in his hand, then leans in closer so that his mouth is inches away from your ear.

“Y/N,” he says, whispering your name like a prayer. He looks at you head on as his gaze searches your face for any resemblance of affection, which you can’t help but give him. His pupils flicker from your eyes to your lips, and every cell in your body feels electric as you close your eyes when he leans in.

BANG! BANG BANG BANG!

Were those… fireworks? You didn’t think you and Kyle kissing would have this crazy of an impact, but upon realizing that your lips haven’t actually made contact yet, you open your eyes and look up as the sky blooms a specter of color.

Oh shit, actual fireworks .

They decorate the night sky with a symphony of flames, long enough to distract Kyle and for your mind to wrap itself around the moment. You decide to do what Wendy asks and take the opportunity, lightly kissing him on the cheek before his eyes turn back to you.

“I hope you find that someone right Kyle. I really do.”

He opens his mouth but you walk away before he can utter a single word, reveling in the adrenaline pumping through your blood.

…

Butters, Wendy, and Stan are sitting on a picnic blanket on the grass, while some blond guy wearing an orange shirt is lighting up the sky with some shitty fireworks. You stand still, uncertain as to who he is, but Kyle comes up behind you and clears up any confusion.

“KENNY?”

The name sounds familiar, and when he turns around, you immediately recognize his blue eyes and messy blond hair. This was Kenny McCormick, one of Kyle’s best friends from South Park. You had to admit however, he looked slightly different without an orange parka covering half his face.

Kyle runs to hug his estranged friend, while Stan jumps up from the blanket.

“SURPRISE!” He yells. “Didn’t I tell you I’d have a killer special guest Kyle? Well, Kenny told me he’s in town, and I thought, fuck, how cool would it be if you guys met again at MY fourth of July party? So, surprise!”

“You mean our fourth of July party,” Wendy reminds him, standing up and ushering you over to meet the esteemed guest.

“Y/N, this is Kenny. Kenny, Y/N.”

You shake his hand, getting a good look at his pierced face.

“Holy shit, I’ve always wanted a lip ring just like that!” You exclaim, and his face lights up.

“No way! Get some ice and a needle, I’ll give you one right now.”

You laugh. “Maybe another time. Right now though, I kinda need to borrow Wendy and Butters if you don’t mind?”

You notice his face drop slightly when you mention wanting to take Butters with you girls, but he agrees, saying it’ll be a good opportunity to catch up with the boys. So you drag the two inside, then give one last glance to Kyle, who meets your eyes with a fond smile. You return it along with a wink, and the blush on his face is enough to make your heart beat a little faster.

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ash-arts-a-thing · 2 years ago

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I just love them 😭

Bonus pony au Arlo and Butters

#pony park au #I have another ask I wanted to draw something for but im a little burnt out tonight #we’ll get there tho #South Park #my little pony au #oc X canon #Jimmy Valmer #leopold butters stotch #oc #Mason #Arlo

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mamavino · 6 days ago

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✨ New Chapter Alert! ✨

The next chapter of Whispers of the Nightingale is live! 🌙 In Chapter 8: Shadows of Hope, the weight of war grows heavier, as Charlotte faces heart-wrenching moments and new dangers. With Yami still away on the frontlines, she is left to navigate the harsh realities of survival—this time facing a loss that could change her forever.

💔 Grab some tissues and read on to see how Charlotte handles the heartache and the quiet strength she must find to carry on.

#🖤#BlackClover #FanFiction #NewChapter #WarAndLoss #black clover oc #whispersofthenightingale #yami x charlotte #vanessa x nozel #leopold x oc #sol marron

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pupsnipps · 8 months ago

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this black clover brainrot goes hard so welcome to my Evermillion family

#black clover #black clover oc #oc x canon #leopold vermillion #harith evermore #pawchives #oc overview

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bitchinfawkseh · 14 days ago

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Baby It's You

Chapter One

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Leopold Mountbatten x Female OC

Grumpy x Sunshine

Chapter summary: It is the beginning of September, which means it is the start of the school year. As Lydia tries to implement routine in her already chaotic household, some men in odd clothes drag themselves out of the pond on her families land.

Word Count: 6131

[A/N] I'm excited 🤍🤍 hope u guys enjoy

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September, 1970

Bacon sizzles on the pan and pops angrily as Lydia flips them, and they spit hot grease at her arms. The boy’s had already had two packs between the three of them, now she’s cooking some just for her and her father. Lydia likes hers more crispy anyhow, so she can trust that her brother’s won’t take any of it. She purses her lips together as she carefully places each slice of bacon onto a paper towel and sets another piece of paper towel on top to soak up the extra grease. Dad’s heart is bad enough as is, she doesn’t need to give him a heart attack.

Dishes clink against each other as her brother’s set their plates and cups into the sink, all muttering (forced) thank-you’s for the breakfast. It’s the first day of school for them -- George is going into twelfth grade, Callum is going into eleventh, and Will is going to ninth grade. They’re growing up much faster than she thought, it’s like it was just yesterday when they were all eight, seven, and five. Lydia always thought that her childhood was painfully long, and she finds herself appreciating her brother’s childhoods more than she ever did her own.

“Bye, Lyds.” Callum says as he throws his worn backpack over his shoulder. Lydia spares him a quick glance and she sends him a scolding look. She’s practically their mother, it’s not like they got one to keep them in line -- to teach them right from wrong or how to be a good husband someday in the (far) future.

She jerks her chin towards the hall closet and raises her brows in a way that poses no room for arguments. “Coat.” She orders. Callum stares at her blankly for a moment before rolling his eyes. He lazily throws the door open and yanks his coat off of the hanger, which sends a couple other coats falling to the floor. He doesn’t bother to pick them up, no, he kicks the door shut and is immediately out the door before Lydia can even shout at him. Lydia sighs deeply in annoyance and switches the burner off before going to pick up the coats. Callum’s always the last one out of the house and her father’s on the can, there’s nobody else to deal with it but her.

Lydia adjusts her small leopard print robe and tightens the knot she previously did as she goes to put the fallen coats back on their hangers. Part of her wants to just leave it there for him to pick up when he gets home, but she cannot handle knowing that there is a mess. Her one job around here is to keep the house in order and to help out with utilities when she can. Lydia may be nearly thirty, but she lives nearly rent free at home for little to no cost, she’d be stupid to give this up. Once she places the last coat on the rod, she closes the door and spins around on her heel only to be face-to-face with a brown lunch bag.

Of fucking course one of them would forget their lunch!

“Shit!” Lydia shouts as she snatches the bag off of the counter and practically jumps into her rubbered boots. They’re caked in mud and cow manure, so they stay outside the front door on the porch. No dirty shoes are allowed in the house, she made that rule last winter after George kept tracking mud and slush into the house. You’d think he'd earn to wipe his boots on the mat before coming into the house.

Lydia leaps down the front steps and sprints down the long gravel driveway, hoping that she’ll catch up to at least one of them before they hop on the school bus. Pebbles fleck out behind her and she pants heavily -- she isn’t built for running, and certainly not in rubber boots. Hell, she can run better in heels than these. Once she catches a glimpse of Callum about to board the bus, she shouts for him to wait, hoping he’ll hear her. Thankfully, he does and he spins around, his cheeks red with embarrassment. Lydia hadn’t even noticed yet that her robe was all haphazard now and almost her whole chest was on display. Thank God she decided to put on a bra this morning. She heaves heavily and marches over to Callum. Lydia yanks him back by his backpack and roughly unzips it, shoving the bag inside before sending him up onto the bus.

The teenagers on the bus peer at her curiously from the window and she sets her hands on her hips as she catches her breath. Some of the teen boys ogle at her, but she doesn’t seem to care nor notice. The bus driver stares at her for a long moment, looking her up and down before grinning seductively. “How are you doing, Lydia?” He asks.

Her eyes narrow and she wrinkles her nose in disgust at him. “Fuck off, Leonard.” She scoffs. Lydia spins on her heel and stalks off back towards the house, only finally looking back when she hears the bus pull away. This is when she takes the opportunity to fix her robe, and she doesn’t care much that she accidentally flashed a bus full of teens. It wasn’t the first time and it certainly won’t be the last, either. The goods were covered up, and that’s all that matters.

The walk back to the house is much slower and nicer this time, but she also notices how cold it is. She’s glad she made Callum bring his jacket, she doesn’t want him to spend the second day of grade eleven at home with a cold. He may try to fake one, but no matter how hard he tries to, the thermometer doesn’t lie. Plus, Lydia has learned to differentiate real sickness versus fake sickness with these boys; they don’t understand that she’s been faking illnesses since before they were even born. She hugs herself and exhales slowly as she treks up the front steps, gingerly kicking off the boots before heading inside. The screen door slams shut behind her and she then closes the main door to preserve heat. Utilities aren’t cheap, and they’re struggling enough as it is; the whole farmyard doesn’t need to be heated.

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April 1876, New York

The air is brisk, and it offers no room for any warmth. Leopold is in clothes adequate for the weather, so no part of him is chilled except for his fingers that carefully sketch out the bridge that he sees before him. Leopold has his pad with pieces of parchment inside splayed out in one hand. He carefully dips his pen into a vile of ink, and sets the cork back into it before going over his previous stroke. His valet sticks close to his side as he usually does, but Leopold keeps his attention on his drawing and the engineer giving his speech about the new Brooklyn Bridge. It's a great accomplishment, innovative for their time -- it's impressive no doubt. Construction has not even finished and it is still the talk of the century, he bets. Leopold wanted to attend to commemorate this amazing event in human history. He aspires to do things like this himself one day, but he finds it hard with his uncle always droning on about him finding a wife. Leopold's “I marry for love and love only” excuse no longer works, as there is a ball tonight and he is supposed to pick a proper bride from the ladies that attend.

A group of young women in front of him ogle at Leopold, giggling to themselves at his attractive stature. They're hardly paying any attention to the speech being delivered to them, and quite honestly they're a little distracting. Leopold sighs deeply and shoots them a polite yet unreadable look before glancing behind him. His eyebrows knit together in deep confusion when he spots a man who raises a peculiar looking object to one of his eyes. He pushes a button, and it clicks once, which only adds to his previous confusion. Leopold's eyes drag over him before he returns his attention to his drawing. His eyes scan over what he has down on the paper and his lips form a straight line.

The man on the podium at the front of the crowd turns his back to them and gestures to the unfinished yet marvelous bridge. “As the pyramids testify to the Egyptians so my glorious erection shall represent our culture in perpetuity.” He shouts with pride. A quiet little scoff sounds behind Leopold and he slowly looks over; it's the same strange man from before with the peculiar object. Leopold cocks an eyebrow as the man glances around as if wondering if anyone shared with his reaction. He clenches his jaw and once again turns his attention back to the engineer on the podium. His speech continues as follows: “Behold, rising before you, the greatest erection on the continent. The greatest erection of the age! The greatest erection on the planet!”

He snorts again and lets out a little giggle this time, and Leopold's patience has worn thin for this man's tomfoolery. He was being quite disrespectful, and he won't tolerate it any longer. Leopold glares at the man this time with extreme judgment and closes his wooden pad, protecting his drawing and he hands it to his valet. “Hold this.” He says.

“Of course, my lord.” His valet, Otis, replies. Leopold carefully makes his way past some tightly packed people towards the man, and he, who has finally noticed Leopold's pursuit to him, makes a mad dash away. He pushes some people aside to run from Leopold, which only angers him further. Who could be so ignorant to others around them? Leopold himself speeds up, but does not push or shove -- he merely says “excuse me” to whomever necessary and squeezes past. He's cut off by two men who hop out right in front of him from seemingly nowhere. A bright white light flashes when one of the men captures a photo of him, and Leopold is stunned for a brief moment. He never fancied having his picture taken, it's always such a hassle and he doesn't appreciate the flash. The man with the notepad steps forward as Leopold attempts to pass them. “For the Herald, Your Grace! I understand you'll be making an important announcement tonight?” He asks.

Leopold doesn't answer the question, he only politely moves past in hopes to question the chortling man from before. Unfortunately, he does not find him.

Quite late, Leopold finally makes his way into their estate bustling with servants preparing for the ball. Even some women have already arrived, and Leopold is only just arriving. He bustles up the stairs, and his uncle, Otto, chases after him. “Leopold! Where have you been?! Leopold!” He shouts, but Leopold ignores him. Otto lingers at the bottom of the stairs, his nostrils flaring and his face red with rage. He glares up at Leopold's attendant, and clenches his fists at his sides. “Otis! I demand an explanation! It is half past and he is not even dressed yet!”

Otis’ lips form a line and he gives him a curt nod. “He will be ready, my lord. I assure you.”

“I don't want him ready! I want him resplendent!”

The grandfather clock in the corner ticks precariously, it fills the silence that Leopold and his valet stand in. He stares at his own reflection in the floor length mirror as the valet ties off the corset (meant for men) on him. Leopold is dressed extravagantly, perfectly fit for the ball that he is about to attend. Unwillingly, that is. He is to announce a bride at the end of the night, to pick a woman who he has just met to marry. Leopold believes you should marry for love, and love only; a husband should adore his wife, and a wife should love him just the same. You cannot fall in love in a single night, one doesn't fall in love that fast -- one doesn't know a person fully. Leopold has refused these sorts of events for too long, and his uncle no longer tolerates his refusal to wed. Being in debt doesn't help, either. Leopold's uncle wants him to find a rich, American bride that can give him a legitimate heir -- a son.

Leopold continues to stare at his own reflection, his hazel eyes moving from his swept back dark locks and his clean shaven face. He sighs deeply and plucks his chilled glass of wine off of the dressing table in front of them, taking a small sip. He will need some alcohol if he is going to tolerate his uncle's antics all evening… he will need alcohol if he is to marry a woman he doesn't love. Otis clears his throat and a second valet comes, and Leopold raises his arms for them to button his sleeves. Leopold keeps his wine glass in his hand, and he raises his chin at his own reflection. “Ah, Miss Blaine…” he trails off, speaking to no one but himself. “You are a rare woman who lights up a room simply by leaving it.” He sighs. Leopold's lips twitch up into a short lived smile and he sucks in a small breath. One of his valets carefully takes the wine glass from his grasp. “Might you be rich, Miss Blaine? You see, whilst I am the third Duke, the secret of those of us in the royal court… apart from our general uselessness… is our massive indebtedness.”

Leopold's face falls when he spots his uncle's reflection in the mirror behind him. He stands a few feet away, a look of unimpress painted all across his worn and wrinkled face. Otto's jaw flexes when he notices his nephew looking at him and he sighs in disapproval. “It's always been your misfortune, Leopold, that you so thoroughly amuse yourself with the sound of your own voice.” He begins. Leopold turns briefly to look at him before turning back towards the mirror. “In a life as stagnant as mine that I can amuse myself at all is an evolutionary marvel.” He replies. Otis adjusts Leopold's cream coloured vest and smooths it out before buttoning it. Otto hums under his breath and hobbles around Leopold's room, taking in his weird knick knacks and so-called inventions. Leopold watches carefully as he inspects his newest innovation; something to carry anyone to any floor they please -- simple machinery, yet safe. Otto grasps a leaver and twists it, which moves a small cage up and down -- his prototype. Leopold's nostrils flare in deep set annoyance. “Please don't touch that.”

Otto sighs again and raises his brows as he brings his gaze to his nephew. “The device you were jabbering about. To take priests to the bell tower.” He recalls.

“To take anyone, uncle, to the floor they so desire. Buildings continue to climb. Soon they will outstrip the stamina of our legs.” Leopold explains to him. The valets briefly step away from Leopold as Otto gingerly approaches, his cane tapping against the floor as he does. Otto is often an unpredictable man, a man who often is quite close minded and rude when it comes to those who are different from him. Otto's lips twitch as he begins to speak. “You speak of progress and invention. Yet what I offer you downstairs is reality. Take a wife. Marry.” He tells him.

“Marriage…” Leopold considers his uncle's words. “Marriage is a promise of eternal love. As a man of honour, I cannot promise eternally what I have never felt momentarily.”

“Born into privilege, yet perversely ashamed of it. That is your tragedy.” Otto spits, now only a few inches away from him. He shakes his head in disappointment and lets out a tiny scoff; he simply cannot believe his nephews complete and utter ignorance. “My God! If my brother could see you, he'd be heartbroken. You are no Duke!” Otto yells.

Leopold grits his teeth as his valets help him into his extravagant navy coat with gold decals on it. He's deeply annoyed by his uncle's instance and his inability to see anything from his own point of view. “Of course I'm not. The monarchy is dead, uncle. We are relics. That is reality.” He says as Otis once again smooths out his top layer. He peers down at Otto, and his brows knit together. “The new royals are men of accomplishment. Men like Roebling, with his bridge. Edison, with his lamp. Diesel, Bell, Westinghouse…” Leopold lists all of them with high gratitude and admiration, hoping one day to contribute to their great discoveries. Otto, without hesitation, quickly slaps either side of Leopold's face. It leaves a light sting on his cheeks, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. Otto glares up at Leopold. “Those men made themselves from nothing! You, on the other hand, were born with everything and from it, fashioned nothing.” He shakes his head at him and wrinkles his nose as if he can't stand to be in the same room as him any longer. “As of tonight. I wash my hands of you.” He states with bitter resent, and he stalks away from him. Otto's cane clicks against the hard floor and once he makes it to the door, he turns again to look at Leopold. “Take a good look at your dance card, Leopold.” He warns, “a wealthy bride is your only surety.”

The estate is bustling with all sorts of people, some young, some old, some men, and some women. It's loud, mostly because there is a band playing and there are many older gentlemen chatting amongst each other; the ladies do as well, gossiping, likely. Leopold plucks a crystal champagne glass from a tray and takes a tiny sip. It's delicious and perfectly chilled, it calms the ache in his chest immensely. He does not look forward to this evening at all, not one bit. How is he supposed to pick a woman to be his bride? A woman that he does not even know -- a woman who he is really marrying for her money. Leopold cannot justify that as anything but selfishness. He glances around him before finishing off the rest of the champagne and placing it on an empty tray that a maid holds. He gives her a polite nod in thanks and goes off to where the main event is; Leopold might as well appease his uncle and dance with some ladies. Pick the best dancer to be his bride, he supposes.

Leopold inspects the line of women along the wall, chatting amongst themselves, he sighs. They're facing towards the natural gap in the center of the room people have formed for dancing. As the band begins to slowly ease into a new and soft song, Leopold approaches the first woman he sees. He's met her briefly before, he knows her as Miss Tree and he also knows that she comes from lots of wealth. He smiles at her charmingly and bows before her. “Good evening, Miss Tree, would you allow me the pleasure of this dance?” He asks. Leopold has his hand outstretched to her, and she nods and places her hand in his. He smiles gently and presses a delicate kiss to her knuckles. He knows she is not one to talk much, so he does not mind her lack of a response. It is only the first dance of the night, he has to have at least some hope.

Leopold leads her out to the dance floor, keeping her hand in his. He's careful about his movements and where he places his hands; she's a lady after all, each lady deserves to be treated with respect -- he is a gentleman. He gingerly sets a hand on her waist and adjusts how he holds her hand, smiling down at her politely. “I appreciate your attendance tonight, Miss Tree.” Leopold says sincerely.

“I thank you for the invite.” She replies simply. Miss Tree seemingly shows no interest in dancing with him -- let alone speaking to him. Leopold finds himself awkwardly and mentally counting down the minutes until the song is over. He sighs through his nose as to not offend her, he may not particularly like her, but he still must remain polite and kind. Leopold's gaze briefly wanders away from Miss Tree to glance around their surroundings. He fully intends to turn his attention back to her and make another attempt at a conversation -- but he spots the same man from before in the corridor. The slippery man who had gotten away from him, Leopold can't quite believe the audacity of this man, having shown up after before.

The man almost bumps into another as he wildly looks around at his surroundings. You'd think he'd never been in such a place before or seen such an affair. This only piques Leopold's natural curiosity, and he wonders where and how the man may have grown up. Poor, judging by his attire. He finds nothing wrong with poor people -- it isn't their fault that he was born with extreme wealth and somehow is in debt. Leopold finds that poorer people are much nicer than those who are of money. The man discreetly raises the tiny object to about waist level and clicks a button again before trudging up the stairs. Leopold's brows furrowed in confusion and he angled his head to watch him, but lost sight of him due to the landing. Thankfully, the band slowly moves into another song, and he politely excuses himself from Miss Tree to go and question the man.

The man comes down the stairs again just as Leopold makes it into the corridor, and as soon as he sees Leopold, he yet again makes a mad dash for the exit. “Wait!” Leopold calls out, but the man does not relent. He bumps into some people and does not bother to apologize, so Leopold does as he passes them. He follows the man as he zooms out the front door and into the road. He stumbles briefly as his foot catches on a piece of stone, and he nearly falls into a carriage even. Leopold runs down the front steps, wildly glancing around the dim street for the man. Finally he spots him just ahead, running like a madman. Leopold definitely will not catch up to him on foot, so he leaps onto a white horse that an attendant had by the reins. With a simple request, the attendant seizes control to Leopold and he's immediately off. The horse gallops with extreme force and its hooves clack against the ground hauntingly. Slowly but surely, he's gaining on the man -- and he shouts at him to wait, but he does not listen.

He makes aggravating twists and turns until they are right by the East River. The man immediately goes for the tall wooden shaft built for the construction of the bridge, and quickly climbs up the ladder intending to go to the top. Leopold heaves himself off of the horse and runs to catch him, the least this stranger can do is answer a few questions after causing this much trouble. Leopold climbs after the man, and demands for him to stop. “Just go!” The man shouts at him as he leaps onto a landing. It's shaky and definitely unreliable -- but he has to jump from the right angle. If he does not, he doesn't know what will happen -- if it will work or if it will take him somewhere entirely different. He doesn't want to face that possibility.

The man jumps out onto a swinging platform like thing, a pulley system that workers use to bring materials up and down. It sways dangerously and he teters towards the edge, holding either rope tight as to not fall in. He needs to propel himself forward -- he can't just fall straight in. Unfortunately, Leopold follows him out to the platform, making a jump after he pulls the piece of plywood connecting it to the wooden structure. He can barely jut his hand out and beg for him not to do it before a rope snaps and the platform teeters forward. The man had managed to put on a pair of odd looking goggles over his eyes, and Leopold caught his sleeve, bracing both his and the man's weight. He holds onto one of the ropes, gritting his teeth as he tries to pull the man up. The man thrashes and shakes his head. “Let me go! Let me go! I swear I'll be fine!” He shouts over the booming rain and thunder.

Leopold shakes his head and feels his grip on the man's coat loosening as the rain pours on them. “You'll perish!” He yells back. Unknowingly, the rope begins to tear from the sheer weight of the two men -- in seconds it will snap if Leopold continues to hold onto this man. The man clenches his teeth again and swings back and forth threateningly as he reaches into his coat pocket. He pulls out a red unfamiliar can and without hesitation, sprays this debilitating and stinging liquid into his eyes. Leopold squeezes his eyes shut and cries out, and just then the rope snaps, sending them both plunging into the deep and chilled water.

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The annoying thing about it being September in Alberta is that it's cool in the mornings, but hot in the afternoon. Though, it does pose some good. Usually Lydia doesn't work the first week the boys go back to school so she can get them into a proper routine and do things around the house. Most of those things include moving back into the house for the fall and winter. During the summer, she likes to spend time in her trailer parked on the edge of the land. When the boys aren't in school, they're off in their own shenanigans and Lydia likes time to herself. She can't exactly bring guys over with her dad in the main house, so the trailer is kind of like her sex pad in the summer. Unfortunately now that it's getting cold again, she's going to have to calm it down since she's back in the house.

Lydia wraps her lips around the mouth of the beer bottle and takes a tiny swig from it. She sets it down on the counter and then bends down to pick up a box full of clothes. She kicks the screen door open with one foot and tosses the box out onto the dirt. The trailer has been parked here for so long that the surrounding area around it no longer has grass -- it's all dirt. She doesn't bother with throwing around grass seeds, then she'd have to actually mow it and that's irritating. She hates doing chores outside, it's a job for the men -- she takes care of things inside, takes care of the financials, milks the cows when she has to, and they do the “hard” labour. Lydia does enough around the house, and she's raising her brothers -- her father agrees that the outside stuff is their job, not hers.

Lydia sighs and pulls her tank top down to cover the bare expanse of her stomach. It's old and frayed at the edges, but it's one of her favourite tops and she can't bear to part from it just yet. She snatches her half empty beer off of the counter and sips on it as she trudges down the metal steps. She plops herself down into a simple lawn chair and closes her eyes as she angles her head up to the fall sun. It beats down on her and it warms her skin in the most perfect way. She feels the urge to just fall asleep, it's warmer than a crackling fire and it has her wanting more. Lydia throws one of her two messy braids off of her shoulder and plucks her cowboy hat off of the top of a box. She lazily leans back and places the hat over her face to protect it from the sun. Lydia was so at peace that she must have fallen asleep, because she is startled awake by a bark. When she raises her head and her hat slides off of her face, she spots their livestock guardian: Beau. Lydia's face falls and he barks at her again, which causes her to swat him away. “Go away, Beau. What are you doing all the way out here, anyway?” She questions. She places her hands on her hips like she expects him to reply and stares at him expectantly. Lydia scoffs and rolls her eyes at him, and rises to her feet.

Lydia kicks up some dirt and crumbs layer onto the worn leather of her cowboy boots. Beau runs off presumably in the direction he came from, surely going back to tend to his duties. Lydia tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and bends down to pick up her hat that had fallen to the ground. When she raises it and places it back on her head, she notices something in the distance. Lydia squints as she sees a figure hauling another out of the pond across the road. It's only a small pond surrounded by tall grass and cattails, but she's more concerned about why these people are on their land… and maybe if they're okay and how they end up in the pond. One of the men just lay on the grass, and the other collapsed next to him once away from the water. Lydia's face falls and she sighs loudly, rubbing her chin as she stalks towards them. They're much too far for them to hear her if she shouted, and she can't even make out what they look like -- all she knows is that it is two men in odd outfits. How the hell did they even get in the pond without her noticing or hearing them?

Lydia gingerly makes her way to them, clenching her fists at her sides in case they try anything. She could easily fight off one, maybe not both of them at once -- but the other seems to be unconscious as she gets closer so she has faith. Once a few safe yards away, she studies them for a moment before calling out. “Are y'all good?!” She questions. One man -- the stockier one with short brown hair -- shoots up and peers at her with wide eyes. It's like he hadn't expected to see anyone -- or he hadn't expected to get caught. There is a sign leading through the only entrance into their property, and it clearly states that it is a private residence. His brows knit together when he notices Lydia's outfit: shorts, a tank top, a cowboy hat and boots. Her hair is wild and practically not even in braids anymore -- it's all loose and quickly done. Lydia glares at his scrutinizing gaze and crosses her arms over her chest. “You are the ones tresspassin’! You're lucky I don't have my fuckin’ gun!” She shouts, angrier this time.

The man immediately leaps to his feet at the mention of a gun and raises his hands in surrender. “Woah! Woah! No need for guns, lady.” He frantically spits out.

“Why the fuck are you in my pond!?”

“Your pond-” he begins, and that's when he seems to finally take notice of his surroundings. He whips around wildly, eyes widening to the size of saucers. “Wait - where am I? What year is it?!” He questions.

“What? Did ya hit your fuckin’ head when you decided to trespass on my land?” She sneers.

The man spins to face her and takes one step closer; he looks frantic as ever, and it has Lydia wondering if he's some crazy person. Maybe she should have brought her gun. “What year is it?” He asks again. Lydia places a hand on her hip and cocks an unimpressed brow at him. It sure is funny, him being the one to demand questions when he is the one trespassing. She gestures towards his very good looking and very unconscious friend. “Is he good? Should I call somebody?” She asks with minor concern for his well being.

“What. Year. Is. It?” He demands this time.

Lydia stares at him blankly for a moment, hoping he’ll check his attitude and apologize, but he doesn't. Her lips form a hard line and she nods slowly as she brings her gaze down to the ground. “Alright, dick breath. Pick your friend up, let's go.” She says as she begins to turn away. The man leaps forward as if about to grab her, but he doesn't. He just needs to know what year it is -- he can tell they aren't where they're supposed to be, but he doesn't know what this place is. “Please. Just the year.” He pleads.

Lydia sighs deeply and rolls her eyes. “Nineteen seventy. Happy?” She asks. The man's face falls immediately and he threads his fingers through his short hair. He pulls at the little strands and exhales a slow breath through his pursed lips. He's in the nineteen seventies… with a man from the eighteen seventies… and they're in butt fuck nowhere.

He glances down at Leopold who is still unconscious, and the skin around his eyes is slightly red -- from the pepper spray. He really thought that he would let go, but apparently not, and now they are here. Lydia cocks a brow and sets both hands on her hips. “What is wrong with you?” Her eyes narrow as she studies the man. “Do you have a grownup I can call? Hm?” She asks condescendingly.

“What-? No.” He stammers out. His brows furrowed together in confusion and he scratched the back of his head before pointing at her. “Where are we? I mean - is it Georgia?” He asks.

“What the fuck?” She scoffs. “You think this is America?”

The colour drains from his face. “It's not?”

“It's fuckin’ Canada, moron.”

“Oh.” He breathes out. He glances down at Leopold and scratches his head again. He squints at him and turns to face Lydia again. “What's your name?” He asks.

“I should be asking you that.” She scoffs.

“Fine,” he gestures towards himself, “I'm Stewart. What's your name?”

“Lydia.” She answers simply. She raises her chin and gestures towards the unconscious guy. “What's his name?”

“Leopold.”

“What kinda fuckin’ name is Leopold?”

Stewart shoots her a glare and then looks back down at Leopold. “He - he's from the nineteenth century. It's normal.” He answers.

Lydia snorts and lets out a loud cackle. “Really! You must've hit your head hard-”

“I didn't hit my damn head, okay!? I'm not lying - he's from eighteen seventy-six and I'm from two thousand and one - we're both not supposed to be here.” Stuart explains.

“Wow,” Lydia breathes out as she nods. Her lips form a line and she raises her brows as she points to him. “You're fucking nuts.”

“I'm not, okay?” He quickly says. Stuart points towards Leopold and his throat bubbles with concern. “He has to go back - okay? I have to go back. I mean - he's the inventor of elevators, if he doesn't go back…”

“You are bat shit insane!” She laughs. She pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head in disbelief. She's heard of lots of crazy excuses -- from her brothers, from boyfriends… but never anything this crazy. Lydia sighs deeply and rubs her face. “So… he's the inventor of elevators… and if he doesn't go back?” She questions.

“I don't know.” Stewart confesses. He sighs deeply and rubs his chin in thought. He knows how crazy he sounds, and he doesn't blame her for not believing him. “Look… even if you don't believe me - we seriously have nowhere to go, I would appreciate any kind of help.”

“Why should I help you?” She asks.

“You shouldn't.” Stewart quickly says. He points to Leopold and swallows hard. “At least help him, he could get sick.”

Lydia's lips form a hard line and she lets out a heavy breath through her nose. She slowly looks down at Leopold, her eyes settling on his face. Her face briefly softens before it hardens again and she closes her eyes. “Fine.” She exhales heavily. She cracks her eyes open to stare at Stewart. “Lemme pull my truck around. The house is too far to walk.”

Stewart sighs in relief and clasps his hands together. “Shit. Thank you.” He says.

Lydia rolls her eyes and waves him off. “Yeah, yeah. I'll be back in a sec.”

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