#mentally sharing the tamales in my mind

[modernmaenad]

Tortilla soup and tamales TToTT please eat a tamale for me

i will!! i got like 3 bags of em so i will gladly eat one for you!!

[creativeashproductions]

Mountains and Lessons // Luke Patterson

Summary: A bucket list item Reggie had had was to experience a white Christmas. He ended up dying before hand and his opportunity brings up. All Luke wants is music and warmth, not stuck on a stupid mountain in cold Colorado. Alex is excited to get out of Californai for once.

Warning: Swearing, death, angst, Christmas themed but not Christmas and fluff

Words: 4.9k

A/N: Breaks my heart that Reggie potentially never got to experience making snow angels, snow people and join a snowball fight. But my theme appears to be angst so there’s that as well.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

Julie had a structured routine and schedule she liked to follow in her life, not strict but definitely a guideline. Monday to Friday, like ever minor, spent the majority of the time in a classroom. After school, she would return home straight to the kitchen for a quick snack before spreading her homework on the kitchen island. The homework was typically one hour before Julie would head out to the studio for band rehearsal.

Flynn, as the band manager, had declared Friday’s to be band free just so that Julie and Flynn could hang out. Saturday’s consisted of morning band practice, the early afternoon had a songwriting session with Luke. In the late evening after an early supper, the band would head to the gig they had gotten. Sunday’s however were strictly days off from the band no matter what, the boys would go their own ways for the day as well.

Today, for the young teenager was a Friday but Flynn had strep throat confining herself to her house. No visitors and her electronics taken away to get rest. It was incredibly dull, and no one wanted to go against Flynn’s words because she could be scary.

Julie had done her homework, did her chores, revised a new song, started a new book and added more doodles to her shoes. Now she was laying on her bed staring at the ceiling with her headphones in.

“Julie?” Ray spoke from her open bedroom door. The man received no reaction with his daughter’s head in the clouds, “Julie? I need to talk to you.”

Ray walked over to his daughter to tug the bud out of her left ear bringing the girl back down to land. The teenager sat up to look at her father.

“What’s up?”

“Can you meet me in the living room?” Ray’s blue eyes crinkled at the corners from the many laughs he had shared in his lifetime. While she was confused, Julie proceeded to follow her father down to the lively decorated room.

Carlos had already been corralled to the living room couch listlessly staring in the distance with no iPad on his person. The lack of electronic was a red flag to the musician, the girl settled on the couch while Ray shifted things on the coffee table.

Once settled on the wood coffee table, he focused on his children, “We’ve always discussed big decisions in our family. We had an open discussion of retracting our initial decision to move.”

“Is this about my bed? I can clean it! I will-“

“Carlos! This isn’t about under your bed, we do need to have a conversation about that young man.” Carlos pointed one finger in Carlos’ direction before addressing the situation, “This year is the first year we’ll celebrate Christmas without…”

“Mom.” Both Carlos and Julie murmured slumping down at the stifling reminder of the loss the Molina’s had suffered.

Julie clenched her jaw, forcing the grief down as her hand crept over to hold Carlos’ hand in comfort. The glittering of his eyes and the gnawing on his lower lip dead giveaways he was losing the battle with sadness. Ever since Julie was a kid, she had always been there for Carlos, not saying they didn’t fight. Evidence as Carlos’ requesting a normal sister.

“It’s going to be different. I got offered an excellent contract by a ski resort, we could potentially renovate the bathroom.” Ray’s eyebrows came together as the touchy topic came about.

After Rose died, it had dented the Molina’s financials with the loss of income, the money didn’t matter compared to the person. When the sun shone through the dark clouds, it had affected the way the Molina’s had to live. Of course, the Molina’s had it better than most with a house over their head and food on the table.

Ray just wanted the best for his kids.

“We could build snowmen?” Carlos gleefully exclaimed beaming at the sheer image of seeing snow in person.

“That’s the thing. The ski resort hosts a handful of parties by companies and clients. The contract is photographing the events for their website. All expenses paid and it could open doors to more clients.”

The idea tore Julie in half. Not decorating the tree with her family, Tia Victoria’s tamales that changed every year and carolling with her friends. A lot of traditions wouldn’t happen that had been constant for the Molina family. New Year Eve’s movie night with Flynn wouldn’t happen; the two girls exchanged wrapped Christmas pyjamas to wear.

On the other hand, the new scenery would distract Julie from the broken Christmas holiday without Mom. Julie always wanted to experience a white Christmas for the snow angels, the snowmen, spontaneous snowball fights, sledding and hot cocoa to warm up after the cold.

In the end, it was the glee on Carlos’ face and the excitement on her father’s that had her caving.

“Let’s do it.” Julie faked her enthusiasm before excusing herself from the conversation of Carlos’ disgusting bedroom.

The young teenager shuffled her way to the studio yearning for the piano to cheer herself up. Typically discovering the guys playing music alone infuriated the girl but at the moment she just wanted to mourn the change of Christmas.

“Hey!” Reggie spoke with a bright grin at the moping teenager. At the lack of reaction, his grin faltered, “Julie?”

Luke’s guitar solo came to an abrupt halt seeing the forlorn girl slumping on the piano bench staring listlessly at the ivory keys. The melancholy aura gave the boys a sick feeling in their bellies, Luke wondered if her grades weren’t at Ray’s standard. Alex wondered if she had a fight with Flynn and Reggie just wanted to hug her.

Reggie did so. His arms wrapped around her shoulders in comfort, and he thanked whatever deity there was at finally being able to hug her. After Caleb and the weird situation, the OG Sunset Curve turned into glow sticks touch had become prevalent. Reggie had a secret handshake with Julie. When Alex got overwhelmed over his anxiety escalated, he would braid Julie’s hair and play with her fingers; when this happened, she never physically touched him unless he asked. Luke was a different story.

Luke’s love language is obviously physical affection, he would hug the living girl, gives high fives, grasp her hand to squeeze it. He’d also sit as close as possible for their legs to touch. It was a way for Luke to feel real.

“What’s wrong, Jay?” Alex asked, approaching the piano to heave himself on top of it. His concerned blue eyes on the teenager.

“This is the first Christmas without my Mom.” She revealed, the desolation drawing Luke to be closer to his friends.

If the boys’ had beating hearts, they would have stuttered and shattered, seeing the sorrow overflow in Julie’s eyes. In a short time, they had spent with her since the first night they had come to care about each other immensely.

 “I’m so sorry,” Alex spoke scootching closer to lay his hand on the limp hand resting on the piano top. The smile of thanks warming the drummer inside.

“Dad got this perfect job at a ski resort. It’s good money, and Carlos is excited. I don’t want to spend Christmas somewhere else. I want to be here; I want to go carolling with you guys. I want New Year’s Eve movie night with Flynn, I want to fight Carlos on who gets to put the star on the tree. I want to bake cookie.” Julie broke, “Sure a white Christmas would be cool, but this is home.”

 “It’s not about where you celebrate. It’s about who you celebrate with Jules.” Luke quietly spoke up physically with them but mentally elsewhere.

His mind returned to the night in December that irrevocably altered his relationship with his parents’. He had tainted Christmas for himself and his family when he stormed out never to return. He would give anything to spend a Christmas, a birthday, or even a Mother’s Day with his parents just one more time. A consolation to the guitarist was easing his parents’ pain with Unsaid Emily.

“You’ll get to build snowmen?” Reggie questioned pouting at his lifer friend who giggled at his look of betrayal, “I was going to spend Christmas at my uncle’s place in Washington before we died.”

Reggie’s words didn’t change the sombre atmosphere, but it did flip a switch in Julie’s mind. Julie could create new traditions with her new family as well.

“We’ll get to build snowmen.”

“How? We’ll be here. You’ll be wherever the resort it.” Reggie interjected with a twisted smile at Julie’s words. The young girl rolled her eyes at him, “We can’t crash your family vacation. It’s Christmas.”

“Reg, you wouldn’t be ‘crashing’ the family vacation. You three are part of my family.” Julie’s words had to be the most touching thing the boys had heard in years, both the twenty-five dead and from 1990-1995.

“I’m so excited!” Reggie beamed, “I have to go, thank Ray!”

With that, the ghostly teenager disappeared in a bright ball of light to the house where Ray was most likely accepting the job. While Luke and Reggie didn’t know boundaries, they sure could make things better for their friends.

The giggle came from the girl bundled up in layers tossed a packed ball of snow at the enemy behind the other snow fort. The sharp laugh of her opponents warming you up more than hot cocoa, well the layers were unnecessary. But, what’s winter without the bundled up outer clothing.

“Surrender!” You called out throwing the new ball high with the hope it would land on the other person. It hit the top of the wall instead.

Lucy was just about to return fire with one of her pre-made snow weapons when the resort’s main building front door opened. Backlit by the lights giving a heavenly glow was a woman of average height. Greying hair scooped up in an elegant style, and thick clothing stood Lucy’s mom.

Your heart clenched at the visible sadness on the woman’s face as her eyes found the mountain in the distance. It had been a constant in the last seven years of the year-round residents and the plaque on the property. Lucy’s family had never properly healed from the tragic event, but they also could bear to leave the place either.

Fox & Hare Ski Resort had been in the ownership of the same family for over a hundred years, a place of happiness. A place where Lucy had loved as a massive fan of skiing and wintertime, Lucy was excited for this year the most. It was Lucy’s third year of lessons with a very well respected and highly sought out trainer.

“Bye!” Lucy spoke to the now standing young adult. Her little feet dashing to the main building for supper with her parents.

Your eyes found the parking lot as a car pulled up to one the spaces reserved for staff; his looks matched the temporary photographer. With him was a young boy and a teenage girl about your own age. All bundled up for the cold climate, but you were most surprised at the sudden appearance of three males.

They had to ghosts. If the teleporting wasn’t obvious enough, it was the lack of warm clothes. For God’s sake, one of them didn’t even have sleeves.

“Hm interesting.” You hummed scrutinizing the trio following the other three aimlessly to the building. You pegged them as about your age with a very vintage style in both fashion and hairstyles.

The luggage clicked on each transition to another board on the porch ramp for accessibility a welcome sound. Just another daily occurrence that brought peace to the individual. Unable to hold yourself back, you quickly scooped up three snowballs.

The first hit the taller boy in the back of the head. When his head swivelled, he couldn’t see the person that did it. Shaking it off, he turned back to view the mountain. Sprinting to the vast sea of trees you stopped halfway to chuck the second snowball. It hit the guy in the leather jacket.

You ducked behind the tree when he loudly protested the sudden attack. With a wicked grin, you went to send the third one before you yelped.

“Nu-uh.” The sudden voice spoke clicking his tongue. Slowly turning you saw the last boy staring you down, “You should have left Reggie for last. He’s very loud, he’s a personal alarm.”

Your mouth opened as the other two appeared, “I’ve never had a snowball fight before!”

You took a guess that was Reggie.

“I’m Y/N.” You spoke holding out for hand for the three to shake. They each introduced themselves; your first hit was Alex, the second was Reggie, and the failed hit was Luke.

“What brings you to Colorado?” You asked shoving your hands in your snow pants bouncing on the heels of your feet. The crunch of snow under them unfamiliar to the trio.

“Our band member is staying here for two weeks. Her dad got a photography gig.” Alex spoke, scanning the area, “So, are you a ghost?”

“I’m a tour guide and area expert.” You beamed revealing a big smile to the three guys standing in the powdered snow.

The cheery light in your eyes, easing the ghosts in the unfamiliar landscape, each a juxtaposition to the climate. Nodding towards the rental shop, you guided them into the average-sized building for the necessary winter wear. Seasoned with your background working in the shop, you quickly grabbed items that wouldn’t be noticed for them.

“We don’t nee-“

“Gotta live the experience. I used to work in here, so I’ve taken the liberty to group your gear. Alex, you have light blue and pink. Reggie red and black leaving the dark blue for Luke.”

You wore a seafoam green ski jacket and matching snow pants paired with the trusty black boots. While the boys dressed in the clothing you chose, you collected your things as well. As soon as they finished, they turned to see you had a snowboard lilac to the dark purple-black gradient. On the top of the board in the middle had a moon with the white foam of the ocean. On the lilac background, the deep purple cut the moon in half, the deep purple background had the lilac moon half. The black had a rough outline of a circle similar to the moon on the front with BURTON in the ring.

“I had a different board.” Your smile faltered, remembering the beautiful board your parents had gotten you for your birthday.

“What happened to it?” Luke questioned scanning the room for the board.

“It snapped in half.” You stated practically skipping out the door, “C’mon! I wanna teach you how to kill it on the mountain! Have you ever done this? Skiing or snowboarding?”

“Neither,” Alex spoke glancing around the area as you led them to the Gondola lifts that brought people to the top of the mountain. This one specifically for the beginner levels perfect for the three new friends, “We’re born and bred in California, never got the opportunity to travel outside the state.

“Well, I’ll try my very best to give you a good experience on the mountain..”

Once released from the Gondola, you jogged to the side giggling at the sight of them struggling to walk in the heavy boots. Near the Gondola, the area was the shift ski patrol building with the heated bathroom. The building along with the bench had been a new addition a few years ago. It never failed to halt you to stare at it for a handful of seconds.

“Okay, so we’ll start with the basics.” You announced clapping your hands together in the thick mittens.

Alex picked up the activity naturally with confidence and calmness he couldn’t even remember last feeling. He had to focus on his movements and directions, giving him a welcomed break from his overthinking. Luke had started his angry pout with his accurate portrayal of newborn Bambi.

“I’m just going to take a break,” Luke muttered wheezing from his sudden position staring at the sky. Taking pity on the Californian boy, you pressed the release function on his boots.

“I think Reggie’s at the ski patrol building.” You called to the boy with the fringe sulking in the direction of Reggie. It left you with Alex learning new hacks to the board.

“This is fun!” Alex shouted, raising his mouth to the sky, “Ooh Willie would love yelling up here.”

“Ghost?” You asked, receiving a nod in response, taking the time to sit down with your knees raised—the board on the edge still connected to your boots.

Alex flailed as he copied you taking in the sunset, backlight the buildings slowly turning their nights one at a time. The large main building would have a fire for everyone with supplied hot cocoa. Tomorrow the mountain would be less populated with the first of many Christmas parties. The crisp air welcomed high above the buildings you felt peace.

“Is it safe to get off the mountain at night?” Alex asked, hugging his knees to his chest, tilting his head to look at your profile.

The smile was small but warm on the girls face as Alex took in her features that had a particular contentness that is hard to attain. Alex could see in Luke when he finished a song he would deem his best work before the next song. Or Reggie at a beach bonfire with the ocean crashing faintly behind Luke’s acoustic guitar.

“Yeah.” You replied smoothly removing your board from your boots to carry it to where Luke and Reggie were. You backtracked to ensure Alex released his boots; his fast learning evident when he stood with a proud smile.

Alex and you both surveyed the area for any lost items or gear you may have forgotten about, coming up clear you continued walking. Reggie and Luke were laughing with their skiis neatly put aside. Hands locked in a fierce game of rock, paper, scissors they looked childlike and untouched by life’s hard teachings.

“I’ll put my board in the Gondola. Be right back!” You called over your shoulder. Alex looked over his shoulder to reply, but the space was empty.

“She moves fast,” Alex muttered shaking it off to jog closer to the boys. He was close to sitting down on the bench when it caught his attention.

“Whoa. That’s nasty.” Alex spoke, gaining his bandmates attention to the bench they had overlooked.

The bench was made out of two snowboards in stone and wood combinations with a gorgeous design. Pieces of the snowboard made to look like a nearly finished puzzle—a plaque on a thick post behind it.

“For the girl who changed the sport for women. Fast like a fox, as graceful as a swan, may you guide lost souls to safety.” Reggie read off the plaque. Luke’s fingers went to brush the ice and snow clouding the picture above the words.

“You guys coming?” You yelled from a distance startling all three intrigued teenage ghosts. Their eyes glanced at the edge of the board in the picture that matched the bench.

“Thanks for that by the way,” Luke spoke gesturing to the area as the Gondola moved down the mountain. His eyes greener in the dimly lit enclosure that shadowed your flustered features at the sole attention.

“I’m on the mountain every day. It was fun talking with people my age.” You informed them pleased to sit in the silence. The three took in the sunset from the height with no buildings blocking the view, “If you can’t find me, I’ll be on the mountain.”

Once back on the bottom of the mountain, the four teenagers snuck the equipment in your personal shack to dry and keep hidden for future lessons. The three guys bid farewell to find Julie in the large cabin, each with beaming smiles and stories to tell the girl.

“Where’ve you guys been?” Julie asked the ghosts in the tucked-away corner near the massive fire ceasing her scribbling to look at them, “Usually I can’t shake you. I had to sit through a safety talk by the director for the mountain.”

“This wicked girl taught us how to snowboard! She’s so cool, Julie. There’s this passion in her when we got on the mountain. The passion that we all have for music!” Luke gushed, breaking his cool guy personality, “She’s so patient.”

“What’s her name?” Julie laughed, getting a first-hand look at Luke all crushed out on someone. His cheeks a rosy pink and soft eyes it amused Julie just imagining the number of love songs he would pen.

“Y/N.” Luke sighed slouching against the wall, “She’s so pretty.”

“-once more, I ask that you check every morning and afternoon for weather conditions, the local Avalanche Information Center website and be aware of our maps for potential avalanche areas. We have a live app that gives updates as well. Just a reminder that I’m Susan and you can also have the ski patrol contact me for further information. Enjoy your stay!” Susan called out gracefully cutting through the crowd to Lucy falling asleep in her chair.

”I heard some lady talking to her friends that the safety regulations and rules increased after an avalanche killed someone. I didn’t catch the name, but it took weeks before they found the bodies, they found the board in a few days.” Julie supplied with a half-smile at another reminder of death.

The three boys had a moment of clarity. They put the pieces together that the bench made of the boards was in memory of the person who died. It was a bitter moment of potentially standing where a person tragically killed with no warning.

“Anyway, I have to meet Dad and Carlos in the room. Have to video call Tía as her stressed wishes for not being home.” Julie sighed, pushing her feet into the slippers, she left the dino ones at home, she had grabbed from the room.

A few days into the Molina’s white Christmas it had been a charming morning thus far. The guys had done a songwriting session for most of the morning. Luke’s eyes continued to scan the room for you as he had since the first day. He had yet to see you inside, if the ghostly trio wasn’t on the mountain with you, then you were playing with Lucy.

 Julie and the Phantoms had retreated to the suite the Molina’s had been assigned when the weather looked questionable. Most of the tourists had either stayed in their rooms, cabins or in the main building. It led to Julie taking the session to the privacy of the suite to avoid looking like a crazy person.

“I need to stretch. Walk?” Reggie asked, gaining different sounds of agreement from the band.

The four individuals walked to the main lounging area where a crowd formed around the makeshift stage. On it was Susan shaking in her husband’s arms.

“Please, has anyone seen Lucy?” Susan sobbed, “She’s ten years old. She’s got blue eyes, ginger hair and she’s small for her age.”

Julie joined her father near the crowd, where he swiftly brought his eldest child into his arms with Carlos. Ray’s heart clenched at the thought of his kids going missing like the owner of Fox & Hare owners.

“Dad’s what’s going on?” Julie questioned viewing the blownup picture of a little girl, the perfect split of her parents.

“Susan Fox’s daughter Lucy didn’t show up for breakfast. They thought she was playing just outside the building. No one has seen her. There have been warnings of avalanches, and the mountain was closed twenty minutes ago. ” Ray told his daughter squeezing her once more cementing his gaze on the couple, “It’s devastating to them.”

“Why?” Julie questioned for the concerned ghostly trio at her side.

“A few years ago, Susan and her husband closed the resort for a few months. They completely gutted their regulations and worked closely with avalanche experts. They upgraded the area for increased safety and reworked the rules and regulations.”

 “What does it have to do with Lucy?” The Puerto Rican girl questioned furrowing her brow in the same way her mother had. Julie had scrapped back her hair into a half-up ponytail this morning.

“They did all that because they lost their daughter in a slab avalanche when Lucy was three. Slab avalanches are the most dangerous type, they make up 90% of avalanche deaths.” Ray sighed, staring up at the snow-capped looming mountain, “It took weeks to recover her body, there’s a bench on the mountain where she loved to snowboard. She was training for the Olympics actually.”

Luke’s attention faded from the conversation recalling that you would be on the mountain at dawn to watch the sunrise. In the sudden motion, Luke stumbled over his own feet heading straight for the shack. His mind is numb as he applied the gear to his body, the movements keeping him from panicking. Luke sensed rather than saw Reggie and Alex behind him.

“What are we doing?” Alex questioned, getting dressed as well.

“Going to the mountain.” Luke was very determined. Catching Reggie’s confused gaze Luke roughly gestured to the far corner, “What’s missing?”

“Y/N’s gear.” Alex and Reggie breathed physically shaking at the desolate area where a gorgeous board usually was. That lit a fire under their asses for sure, grateful for poofing they appeared on the mountain.

Scouring the white background, Alex pinpointed a speck of seafoam green running for a speck of bring pink and yellow. In the fear they had taken to sprinting in the bulky boots as if they felt something about to happen.

Your attention solely on Lucy, “Lucy, we need to leave now.”

For Lucy, the mountain was her life, it had been one of the things that her older sister lived and breathed for. All Lucy wanted to do was to be like her big sister. Lucy had the potential, her moves and posture striking to the late sister.

“This is the best trail!” Lucy stomped her black boot in the snow while her other one secured in her snowboard.

“It’s also one marked off for an avalanche.” You hissed to the little girl staring up with tear-filled eyes, “Please, go back.”

The unmistakable ‘whoomph’ sound shattered the otherwise quiet area freezing Lucy in her steps. The once stubborn ten years old turned petrified at the sheet of snow coming straight for the two girls.

“Slab avalanche.” The words covered by the snapping of trees. Your arms yanked Lucy up as you raced perpendicular to the moving snow.

Your ears couldn’t distinguish between Lucy’s screams, your screams or even the loud sound of the destructive avalanche. The alarm and terror drowning your insides, leaving no room for thoughts, only actions. Lucy’s small stature and the years you had on the location helped to dive into a safe zone.

Even in the safe zone, you raced further to collapse with Lucy’s inconsolable body quaking in absolute distress. The tears of relief fell down your face as you leaned against the bench of the memorial. Your head thumped the bench causing a puff of snow to fall on your hat.

“Holy shit.” The sob of words from Luke came before his arms wrapped around you. With being able to touch Julie, the guys didn’t get alarmed at the sight.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Alex frantically scanned the little girl before moving towards you in the same amount of fear. Reggie rendered speechless at the events.

“What the hell were you thinking!” Luke shouted, lunging away to stare you down. Tears streaking his own cheeks, “You’re also preaching the safety rules of the resort. You definitely read the reports and decided to come on the mountain?”

“Luke,” Reggie mumbled remaining the only one standing. His words went ignored, “Luke! LUKE!”

“What!?” Luke snapped resulting in the bassist flinching at the stark memory of his home life, “Sorry, Reggie. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think Y/N was ever in danger,” Reggie stated, bringing both confused boys to where he stood.

There above the bench uncovered by the snow that melted on Y/N’s thick toque was a picture. Above the quote was a picture of a girl holding the snowboard the bench was made of. Wearing a unique matching snow set was the exact replica of the girl Luke had fallen for.

“Holy shit.” Luke and Alex murmured gaping at the picture and the name of the girl who had died.

Luke recalled things you said,

“I used to work in here.”

“It snapped in half.”

“It was fun talking with people my age.”

Luke’s mind went a step further recalling the first lesson you gave the guys where you went from the bench to the Gondola in a short time. How people didn’t react to you, the ski patrol that ignored you every time on the mountain with them.

“You’re the daughter that died in the avalanche.” Luke gasped, dropping his jaw nearly to the snow-packed ground.

“Exactly seven years ago today.” You replied, keeping your eyes glued to your little sister yearning to comfort here, “Reggie, can you go in the building and press the red button? It’s a signal sender for people sheltering from the conditions.”

Nothing could meet the feeling of your parents weeping along with Lucy after the medic deemed her okay. While you wish you could join the hug, you also knew that things happened for a reason. The feeling that same with kissing Luke could never meet the level of happiness at Lucy’s safety.

I came close to killing ten year old Lucy in this but decided not to be cruel.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @kcd15​ @siriuswvrld​ @princessvader15​ @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle​ @joshy-obx​ @lovesanimals​ @oopsiedoopsie23​ @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you​ @jaskiers-sweetkiss​ @lostrandomfangirl​n @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @jatp-holland​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland​ @dasexydevitt13​ @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​ @ssprayberrythings​​ @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @zukoshonourr​ @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch​ @kcd15​ @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl​ @all-in-fangirl​ @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @badwolf00593​ @blowakissbabe​ @talksoprettyjjx @thesweetestsinner​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @writerinlearning​

[notapaladin]

a little mystery to figure out

The rumors reaching Nezahual’s ears can’t be true. They suggest that Tenochtitlan’s Master of the House of Darts and the High Priest for the Dead are...together, and Nezahual’s met Acatl. No, Teomitl is clearly going to be pining forever.

He decides to visit his sister city, and learns much more than he really wanted to.

Also on AO3!

-

Not for the first time, Nezahual reflected that his life couldn’t get any better than this. He was a healthy young ruler with slaves to serve his every whim and his pick of lovely, inventive concubines to share his mat; he had only to wave a hand, and a dozen servants would rush to attend him. The mat spread out in his palace gardens boasted two thick cloaks and a deer pelt to cushion his reclining form, and above him a pair of noisy motmots fluttered like living jewels.

By his side, his current favorite concubine—Miyahuaxochitl—picked up a delicately carved rosette of fruit, studying it for a moment before popping it into her mouth. “Hm.”

He put an arm around her, pulling her a little closer. “Is it not to your taste?”

She thought for a moment and shook her head. “No, my lord, it is. Forgive me, I was only...thinking.”

“Oh?” It wasn’t an accusatory question—of course she was entitled to the contents of her own head, though he’d never been especially impressed by her sagacity—but she flinched anyway. He registered, belatedly, that he’d been using what his childhood playmates had called the “creepy snake face,” the one that supposedly made him look like a rattlesnake eyeing a bird’s nest. It wasn’t like he could help being curious, but when you were an agent of Quetzalcoatl, that apparently came with side effects. Oops.

At least she got over her unease quickly. “About the tales you told of your last visit to Tenochtitlan. Working with Teomitl-tzin and Acatl-tzin.”

“...Thinking about other men?” He smiled.

“Not like that.” As he hope she would, she shoved him lightly and pretended to take offense. “I was wondering how Teomitl-tzin’s marriage is going. I don’t like to think of anyone being unhappy in love.”

“His wife is the Guardian of the Duality in Tenochtitlan.” And absolutely the most terrifying woman I’ve ever met. Too bad Teomitl snatched her up first. We might have killed each other, but gods, I’d die happy. He twined a lock of Miyahuaxochitl’s hair around his fingers. “I’m sure it’s going fine.”

She didn’t seem soothed. Her gaze drifted over the sparkling water of the nearest fountain as she replied, “...Well...yes, my lord, but…”

“But?”

For a long moment, she silently traced meaningless patterns over his bare chest. It tickled, but not enough for him to be distracted from her words when she finally spoke. “It’s only that...you mentioned he seemed awfully close with her brother.”

“Acatl is his teacher.” But even as he spoke, his mind whirled. The pup is often angry—I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s his base emotional state—but when Acatl was accused of treason...gods, he was frantic, and not on his own behalf. And there’s the way he looks at him when Acatl can’t see him... Nobody looks at another person like that if they aren’t at least a bit infatuated.

Miyahuaxochitl had clearly reached the same conclusion far ahead of him. He mentally revised his opinion of her brainpower. “Mm. That’s...not the kind of closeness I mean…”

Anyone who could do the things she could with her tongue had no business blushing like that at a mere insinuation. And she hasn’t even seen them together. I swear the only time Teomitl wasn’t glaring at something was when he was looking at Acatl. “You really think so?”

She nodded. “I listen when the slaves talk amongst themselves. They all say that when those two were guests at your summer palace, they seemed...very close. And some of the merchants, too—rumor has it that Acatl-tzin never used to even step foot in the palace until he met Teomitl-tzin, and now he’s there all the time.”

He found himself remembering the last time he’d been in their combined presence. The bloodstained courtyard. The ghosts. The ahuizotls, all teeth and claws. And the way Teomitl had looked at Acatl, even with his sword drawn and visions of the Turquoise-and-Gold crown filling his head. Well. That would certainly explain a lot. I wonder if...no. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I’d question whether Acatl even had blood in his veins. The poor pup is doomed.

The thought made him grin. There was, after all, a way for his life to improve—watching Teomitl splutter in impotent rage. “I think it’s time I spend a week in Tenochtitlan again.”

&

Pomp and circumstance were, of course, the prerogative of a Revered Speaker traveling to an allied city. But for once, Nezahual found himself curious as to what would happen if he took the subtle approach. Accordingly, his boat docked in the Atempan calpulli—if the memories of his spies served, Acatl had been from there—and he prepared himself for a nice, long walk on a sunny day. He’d even taken the steps of leaving his guards with the boat and most of his jewelry; they would follow an hour or so behind, to be ready in case he needed them. Meanwhile, in his least elaborate cloak, he could pass for a nobleman’s child instead of an Emperor for a day.

Ah, the sacrifices he made for the sake of information.

For being the domain of peasants, the calpulli really wasn’t as shabby as he’d imagined it would be. Children ran underfoot just as they did in the outskirts of his own city, and women called to each other as they spun thread and ground corn. He’d been walking for perhaps half an hour, heading deeper into the city, when he heard a name that gave him pause.

A group of women had gathered in an open courtyard to spin maguey fibers; one, middle-aged, sat down on the outside of their little circle and commented, “Saw our Acatl the other day.”

Acatl was a common name, but the degree of pride in her voice suggested he was more than just a fellow peasant. If he squinted, he thought he could make out a certain family resemblance—that girl shared his nose, and that woman had a precise copy of his jaw. Cousins, then. He made a production of stretching and leaning against the wall of the opposite house, for all the world as though he was fascinated by the birds in the tree branches above, and watched as a woman with red ribbons twined through her marriage braids perked up noticeably at her words. “Oh? How’s he doing?”

Their arbiter of knowledge grinned as she set her spindle whirling. “Seemed to be doin’ quite well for himself; had a nice new pair of silver earrings and all.”

Now that was interesting; Acatl was entitled to a degree of splendor as a High Priest, but her tone suggested he’d only recently begun to take advantage of it. Red Ribbons nudged the woman next to her. “Remember when he went off to calmecac and announced he’d stay on as a priest? His parents were furious!”

General sighs around the circle. Nezahual privately marked down Acatl’s parents as idiots.

A buxom woman in a flower-embroidered blouse muttered, “What a waste.”

Though this mildly blasphemous statement seemed to meet with some approval, the older woman let out a defensive huff. “Hey—he’s an excellent priest! Our Acatl, a High Priest!”

Flower Blouse sighed wistfully, a motion which did interesting things to her chest. “I know, Auntie. I’m sure you’re proud. But...he’s so handsome.”

There were collective nods. One girl clasped a hand to her chest and gazed wistfully up at the heavens, as though the mere thought of Acatl was enough to send her into rapture. Nezahual raised an eyebrow. While that is certainly an apt enough descriptor if you’re into older men, his personality...then again, I do seem to have a knack for running into him in stressful times. Stressful times he’d occasionally caused, but that was besides the point.

Red Ribbons looked thoughtful. “No wonder all the girls were so upset. Remember Huchimitl?”

A slender woman with her hair in a maiden’s plait smirked at her. “Just the girls? Because I remember your husband, when he was young—”

“Her husband, then? My brother, now! You should have heard him when he was at the boy’s calmecac, it was all Acatl-tzin this and Acatl-tzin that—“

“Girls!” Their auntie aimed a scorching glare around the circle, and all five of them suddenly found their spindles utterly fascinating. “You should be ashamed, gossiping like that about our High Priest for the Dead!”

The maiden was either brave or suicidal. “Auntie, you started it…”

“I was merely telling you what I saw!” She sniffed. “Ridiculous girl, it’s hardly my fault if our Acatl wants to finally take advantage of his place in the world—the Duality knows it took him long enough. Why, I remember when you all were young...”

Judging by the assembled eye-rolls and badly stifled groans, it seemed she was about to break into one of the dreaded When I Was Your Age speeches bemoaned by younger generations everywhere. Nezahual had heard his fair share as a child, and had no intention of staying and listening to this one.

Accordingly, he pushed off from the wall and continued on his way with a thoughtful hum. Clearly, Teomitl would have significant competition in the—vanishingly unlikely, he’d seen the way Acatl reacted to the suggestion of sexual intercourse—event of Acatl ever breaking his vows of chastity. Still, he mused. New earrings, for a man who never wears any. The pup must be trying very hard.

Hm. His last meal had been just after dawn, and he was getting hungry. The market should be packed at this time of day, and he had an excellent memory of a certain old grandmother’s tamales. He steered himself towards it.

&

Tenochtitlan’s main market was, indeed, packed. He felt the cacao beans and gold-filled quills wrapped in his cloak, gaze drifting over stalls selling jewelry and knives and caged animals. A woman on a spread-out blanket was haggling intently over the price of a caged parrot; her neighbor was trying desperately to interest a sacred courtesan in a length of orange cotton. At another time he might have bought both—he could always use a sacrifice to Xochiquetzal, just to be polite—but the smell of roasted meat was distracting.

He wound up buying two tamales, leaning against a tree to eat them just in time to avoid bumping into a porter with a load of bulky, fragile feather fans. Quetzal feathers predominated, a blazing iridescent green, but he spied bright blue cotinga and the delicate reddish-pink of spoonbill feathers as well. They were fit for a nobleman, if not the imperial court itself, and he wondered which featherworker’s shop had turned them out.

They were apparently quite impressive to the merchant manning a blanket full of wicker baskets, who remarked, “...Big order.”

The porter shrugged, adjusting his hold as the topmost fan made a bid for freedom from its carrying strap. “Oh, these? Straight to the Temple of Mictlantecuhtli.”

“Again?!”

“Yep.”

The merchant blinked slowly. “...Tlaloc’s green dick, who died?”

Another shrug. The errant fan hit the ground, and he swore as he knelt to pick it up. “Nobody important, so far as I know. At least, not recently.”

Given the way the merchant leaned forward, eyes gleaming as he lowered his voice, he’d come to the same conclusion Nezahual was rapidly arriving at himself. Such expensive feathers were either payments for services rendered, or...well. Payments for services you hoped would be rendered. Nezahual stopped chewing momentarily, the better to eavesdrop on the man’s murmur of “Must be a personal gift.”

That got a snort and a badly hidden grin. “Dunno why they bother. Acatl-tzin’s just gonna sell ‘em and give the proceeds to the poor anyway.”

“Pft, you have no romance in your soul—oh, I’ll let you go.” He’d spotted a potential customer, and beamed encouragingly at the woman who’d made the mistake of getting too close with intent to buy.

As the porter trudged off, Nezahual returned his focus to his lunch. They were really excellent tamales, spiced meat punctuated by the sharp bite of roasted chilies. He wondered if the woman who sold them would be interested in moving to Texcoco. It’s generally frowned upon to kidnap your allies’ citizens, but I might just risk it for more of these. It wasn’t like Tizoc would care, after all. Acatl might—the man was irritatingly principled—but a man who would sell that many expensive gifts to feed the poor probably wouldn’t complain too strenuously if one old woman got a new job in Nezahual’s palace kitchens.

He shook his head, biting back the smirk that wanted to escape. Poor, stupid Teomitl. That’s not a man that can be bribed onto your mat.

A pair of market girls passed by arm in arm, snapping their gum. He was about to tune them out, but their chatter snuck into his ears anyway.

The one in the pink blouse had a particularly chirpy voice; it would be just the thing to cheer him up after a tedious day, as long as she never brought up her current conversational topic again. “Did you really see the Master of the House of Darts down by the knife-seller the other day?”

Her companion—pale blue skirt, yellow makeup—nodded cheerfully. “Mm-hmm!”

A long, wistful sigh. “Mihmatini-tzin is so lucky.”

Blue Skirt puffed her cheeks out thoughtfully. “I wonder when he’ll take a concubine or two…”

That earned her a cheerful, laughing shove. “What, you think you’ll stand a chance?”

She was promptly shoved back, nearly colliding with a young man carrying a load of blankets as she cackled. “I just might!”

The joy in both girls’ faces was infectious, and Nezahual found himself with a genuine grin. Pink Blouse was smirking widely at her friend, showing off teeth that had been dyed a brilliant red. “You’ve got some competition, don’t you?”

“...Hm. I guess so. But...Teomitl-tzin’s really handsome.”

While Nezahual found himself regretting his decision to go incognito—neither girl had noticed him, and he was sure they’d revise their opinion of Teomitl’s supposed good looks if a better option presented himself—Pink Blouse let out a crack of laughter. “Hah!” Gum snapped cheerfully between her teeth as she added, “You’re not the only one who thinks so, I’ll tell you!”

He wondered who those people were—besides Mihmatini, who was proof positive that love made you blind and stupid. Nobody who looked that much like Tizoc could be that handsome, surely. Maybe on a foggy night. At a good distance. But before they could elaborate, he lost them in the crowd.

Both tamales were becoming distant memories, and he closed his eyes against the glare of the day to ponder his next move. Atempan and the markets had been enlightening, but they wouldn’t give him the answers he sought. He knew the palace would be his best bet, but there would be questions and politics and Tizoc there, none of which he especially felt like dealing with. At least not yet.

The Sacred Precinct was on his way, so he’d walk slowly. And if he engaged in the time-honored pastime of flirting with the next pretty girl he saw, that was absolutely besides the point.

&

It was mid-afternoon by the time he crossed over the canals to the Precinct walls, but the open plaza was as crowded as the markets had been. He kept his ears open and his mouth shut anyway. You could learn a lot from gossip if you were quiet. You could learn even more if you were Quetzalcoatl’s agent in the Fifth World, but he decided not to press his luck yet. His attendants were still keeping a significant distance behind him, and calling on the Feathered Serpent was something he preferred not to do in public. People always made such a fuss when your eyes rolled back in your head and spectral scales shimmered along your arms.

Ahead of him, one priest of Huitzilopochtli was huddling with another. He slowed his pace and pretended to be very interested in the sight of two sacred courtesans bickering.

The younger of the two priests was looking around warily, but his gaze slid right past Nezahual without seeing him. He clearly had different, worse problems. “...Quenami-tzin still seething?”

“Mmyep.”

“...I think I’ll take the long way back to the temple.” Nezahual couldn’t judge the priest for his wince; being under Quenami’s power had been bad enough for him, and he had been an Emperor since boyhood.

It didn’t take a genius to imagine why he was in a bad mood now. He remembered that load of feathers for the temple of Mictlantecuhtli, and smirked to himself. I can only imagine what he thinks of a peasant’s son accruing so many riches—and then to give them away! All because Teomitl thinks Acatl is one to be courted like a maiden.

The older and wiser priest nodded, but he was already distracted. The two bickering courtesans had descended to a screaming match, with vocabulary even Nezahual hadn’t heard employed in quite that way. It was fascinatingly undignified. “Good idea.”

“I mean, can you blame him?”

“It’s not Acatl-tzin’s fault that he—“

But Nezahual’s pace had slowed too much, and whatever wasn’t Acatl-tzin’s fault was lost when he nearly collided with a priestess carrying an armload of bloodstained grass balls. Since they had a regrettable tendency to roll all over the place when dropped, and since he had been raised with manners, he had to stop and help her pick them up. By the time they were finished, the priests had moved off.

He sighed. There was nothing for it; he’d have to enter the palace.

&

As he’d predicted, it was a unique form of torture. He’d met up with his attendants, so at least he was properly dressed for the obligatory good-to-see-you-glad-you’re-not-dead-yet audience with Tizoc-tzin, but having to listen to the man’s voice sucked all the pleasure out of what should have been a soothingly rote speech. It would take time for a proper banquet to be arranged, leaving him with several hours of free time he seriously debated spending in the women’s quarters. It would probably be worth it if he got caught. Tizoc was almost definitely not up to the task of entertaining a lady, and the women were sure to be bored.

He’d made up his mind to try it when he ran into Teomitl. Almost literally ran into, in fact; the man was striding through the palace corridors at his usual brisk pace, only to stop dead when he saw him. He was wearing the red cloak of an off-duty Master of the House of Darts and a frown.

After a pause just long enough to be insulting, he addressed him. Aww, he was learning politics. “Nezahual-tzin.” A stiff, perfunctory bow. “What brings you here?”

“Would you believe a diplomatic visit?” He tried for his most winning smile.

It didn’t work. Teomitl’s eyes narrowed, and when he drew himself up Nezahual realized that the man was still taller than him. Every line of his body screamed irritation. “...No.”

He paused for an instant, considering, and then let his smile widen. It had always been fun to needle Teomitl, even when they were children—the man was always so serious, so dignified. Of course there was a place for such things, but if the man was in love...it would be terribly amusing to watch that dignity crack. “It is! I heard some very...interesting things about your lovely city on my way here, you know.” He couldn’t resist adding, “Apparently Acatl-tzin’s very well-liked.”

Teomitl’s fists clenched briefly, then relaxed. Oh, he was touchy. “As he should be.”

And quick to jump to Acatl’s defense, as well—there’d been no hesitation in his words. Nezahual remembered the day they’d rescued Acatl from a traitor’s death; it had been the only time he’d ever seen Teomitl so frantic. Acatl had been oblivious then, and he was oblivious now. “A shame he hasn’t noticed. I’ve heard he’s gotten some expensive gifts recently.”

“Mm.” His jaw was tight, and he was resolutely not meeting Nezahual’s gaze. There was a faint tinge of red in his dark face.

Nezahual fought an urge to snicker. Allied ruler or no, they were presently alone in the courtyard and he didn’t particularly care for being punched in the face. The jade rod piercing his septum as a symbol of his rule was just as breakable as his nose was, after all. “Is he the sort of person who enjoys a bit of luxury? Do you suppose he’s the sort of person who’d then think kindly of the sender? You know him so well, after all.”

Teomitl sucked in a breath. “I suppose it’s none of your business, Nezahual-tzin. Good day.”

Then he stormed off, and Nezahual didn’t stop him. Baiting Teomitl was highly entertaining, but he’d had his try at that for the moment. Until the banquet, he’d enjoy himself in more leisurely pursuits.

The banquet, when it came, was fascinating to watch.

Mihmatini and Teomitl sat together, and he found himself studying them. She was radiant in feathers and jewels, but were her eyes tight around the edges? Did she suspect that her husband was besotted with someone else? It had been blindingly obvious to him even when he’d attended their wedding; he’d made it through the ceremony and half the feast before he’d had to sneak off to laugh himself sick. Mihmatini was an intelligent woman, but...well, love did make you blind.

Or maybe she’s just trying not to see it. Of course, all men took their pleasure where they pleased, but he imagined it had to be much different—much worse for the wife—when the one your husband had designs on was your own elder brother. But they weren’t acting as though anything was amiss; as the evening wore on, she leaned against her husband’s shoulder, and Nezahual strongly suspected she was holding his hand where he couldn’t see. If he hadn’t known better, he’d think Teomitl had never gone behind her back to overthrow his brother.

...Speaking of brothers…

He turned his gaze to Tizoc’s gilded screen. Tizoc had always hated priests in general and Acatl in particular; his attempt to get the man killed proved that. The part of Nezahual’s mind that was always turning over schemes and inspecting them from new angles wondered idly how he’d react if he knew his younger brother was interested in his greatest foe, if that was something he could use...but no, he wouldn’t sink that low. Teomitl was not an enemy he wanted to have when the man became Revered Speaker in his turn. And an enemy I’d have in truth, if I did something to jeopardize the life of his favorite priest.

Who, to Nezahual’s surprise, was in attendance. Apparently his unannounced visit was judged a significantly important occasion to merit the presence of all three High Priests. Acatl was seated between his fellows, wearing full regalia and an expression which suggested that if either man tried to speak to him, he’d drown them in their soup bowls. Next to him, Quenami was grinding his teeth; it appeared his foul mood had persisted all day, and Nezahual would bet quite a lot that it had something to do with the silver earrings in Acatl’s ears. They weren’t large or ornate, but they glittered where they caught the torchlight.

As he watched, Acatl turned his head in Teomitl’s direction, and their eyes met. Teomitl, caught in the middle of raising a soup bowl to his lips, flushed and set it down.

Nezahual tried very hard not to start cackling into his grilled turkey.

&

In the end, the confirmation of all those rumors was an accident. He really didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But he’d been about to turn in for his own mat when the idea struck him, and so before he could think better of it he was on his way to Teomitl’s chambers. Maybe the man would spill something interesting if he prodded him hard enough.

Teomitl’s chambers turned out to be occupied.

Very occupied.

To give them credit, they were trying to be quiet; if he hadn’t been actually in the courtyard and aiming for silence himself, he might not have heard them. But there was a very familiar rustle of cloth, and the distinct crackle of a thin reed mat, and then—

He knew that voice. He knew it very well, even though he’d never heard it like that.

“Ah, hah, Acatl…”

Impossible.

He sat down hard in the packed dirt, feeling his world rearrange itself to make room for the noises he was hearing. That was Teomitl, half-breathless with pleasure, and that was Acatl’s answering indistinct murmur, and that was the faint slap of flesh against flesh, and that was the steady rustling of reed mats under a man’s weight. He’d thought Teomitl pining, trying desperately to catch his dignified tutor’s attention. The idea that he’d succeeded...

He realized he faced a crossroads. He could slink away while they were busy with each other—undoubtedly the honorable choice. He could interrupt them—crude, dishonorable, and likely to result in severe physical pain if not immediate death.

Or he could sit down in Teomitl’s courtyard to wait.

He found himself waiting for a long time—enough to pick out the constellations above his head and develop a certain respect for Acatl’s stamina, but not long enough for him to fully pin down what he was going to say. It seemed he might owe Teomitl some sort of apology, which was a distasteful thought. He could bear it, though. Apologies, advice, perhaps some gentle mockery—yes, that was how he’d deal with this.

Eventually the sounds from within faded to a quiet conversation, and then to the faint rustle of someone getting to their feet. He glanced idly at the entrance curtain as its bells jingled, taking in the sight of a formerly-chaste High Priest making his escape from a lover’s embrace. The key word there being formerly; Acatl may have once sworn a vow of chastity and celibacy, but he’d clearly not so much broken it as shattered it to pieces and performed a merry dance on the shards. There were the faint marks of teeth in his collarbone and bruises at his hip, and his previously neat hair was in disorder.

Oh, and he was staring at Nezahual in open horror, such that Teomitl scrambled up off the mat and all but knocked him aside in order to take up a protective stance in the doorway. Any moment now, the open horror would transmute itself to outrage.

Absolutely nothing could have stopped his tongue. “You two seem to have had a very pleasant evening.”

Teomitl had clearly gotten as good as he gave; there were the beginnings of some fantastic marks on his throat. Much more important, however, was that his eyes had gone solid jade, and the air was starting to fill with the scent of the lake. “You.”

“Teomitl!” Acatl seemed to have shaken off his horror; now he laid a hand on his lover’s arm as though that alone would stop him from doing violence. Then again, he’d seen the man accomplish the same with words before.

“Acatl…” It came out in a snarl. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off Nezahual, who was beginning to feel some mild concern.

“Look, if you kill him, it’s a diplomatic incident and it’ll start a war with Texcoco!”

“...And?”

“And I think Tizoc-tzin will probably want to know why!”

Nezahual decided he could probably risk interjecting. Acatl was being reassuringly sensible about the whole thing, and Teomitl’s eyes were returning to their normal dark brown. “I heard some very interesting rumors in Texcoco. You’re lucky that Tizoc-tzin never thinks beyond threats to his person.”

He watched as Acatl and Teomitl exchanged uneasy looks. It was Acatl who spoke, with his gaze fixed on Nezahual; the air around him grew measurably colder, though it didn’t seem to affect Teomitl at all. “...Rumors?”

He’d had a lot of time to stitch together the day’s overheard conversations into a cohesive whole, and he discovered he was amused by the tapestry it presented. “You two, together, seem to be rather a...popular notion among the people of Tenochtitlan. Aside from Huitzilopochtli’s clergy, of course.”

Both men recoiled for a moment, their faces red, and then they spoke at once. “I—“

“—That is—“

He held up a hand. “I won’t breathe a word.”

Teomitl’s eyes narrowed, cold as the bottom of the lake. He saw jade reflections dance in their depths. “You wouldn’t be so accommodating unless you want something from us.”

He’d also had a lot of time to determine what that something would be. It seemed a simple favor, and one unlikely to cause offense. Not with what he’d seen. “...Should Tizoc-tzin’s death come with a reasonable amount of warning…”

He paused, watching the way both men stiffened. Acatl’s fingers twitched as though to take Teomitl’s hand before he visibly pulled himself back; Nezahual couldn’t help but smile. As though we don’t all know the useless craven isn’t long for this world.

“You let me tell him on his deathbed.”

Teomitl was still suspicious, but he seemed inclined to listen. “...Why?”

“Star-demons,” he said promptly. He’d seen them only at a distance, but the carnage—the bodies in pieces, such as he’d never even seen on the worst battlefields—had stuck stubbornly in his mind. And to know it was Tizoc’s fault...yes, he’d be very much pleased with the chance to make the man’s last moments that little bit worse.

“...I’ll give you that,” Teomitl muttered.

“Excellent!” He affixed a charming grin to his face. “So we have an accord. I must confess, I really hadn’t expected Acatl-tzin to be swayed by pretty silver earrings. I would have held out for solid gold—“

Through gritted teeth, Acatl snapped, “I think you should leave.”

Since he didn’t want to be an ahuitzotl’s dinner—an annoyingly likely scenario, given the way Teomitl was vibrating with rage—he left. Quickly.

EXTRA: Some Weeks Earlier

Teomitl’s life changed irrevocably over lunch, of all things.

He’d started showing up at Acatl’s house with tamales after a long, frustrating argument with the rest of the war council regarding preparations for the next campaign, when he’d only wanted to comfort himself with the thought that at least he could do one useful thing by making sure the man he loved remembered to eat that day. It had quickly become a routine. Hearing Acatl’s voice, seeing him smile...it was good. It was all he would ever get, but it was good. He’d become an expert at ruthlessly beating back the corner of his heart that still stupidly yearned for more. He knew he wasn’t going to get it.

Even if Acatl kept looking at him. And smiling. And laughing, sometimes, a half-disbelieving chuckle that made his heart do unpleasant things in his chest.

Acatl wasn’t laughing now. He’d seemed preoccupied all day, and barely picked at his food. Teomitl’s chest hurt, and he told it sternly to cease. If you keep doing this to me, he told his heart, I will have you removed. Today’s meal had been worryingly quiet.

Acatl broke the silence without looking up from his half-eaten tamale. “...I heard some...interesting rumors from my cousins yesterday.”

Teomitl swallowed. Acatl had a lot of cousins. Not as many as he did—he could still count them all and didn’t need a chart to figure out how they were related—but a lot. It was probably nothing. “Oh?”

“They seem to think your feelings for me are…” He trailed off, and Teomitl had the pleasure of seeing him blush. It almost distracted him from the heartstopping terror coursing through his veins. “...Not quite platonic.”

“Ngyrk,” he said intelligently.

Acatl dropped his gaze to the floor. “...I try not to give credence to gossip.” He swallowed visibly. “But.”

“But,” he echoed. Maybe if he prayed hard enough, the earth he sat on would sink into the lake. Or one of the gods—at this point he wasn’t picky—would strike him down.

Acatl drew a slow, hesitant breath. He still wasn’t looking at him, and Teomitl realized his hands were starting to shake. His own were only spared that indignity by balling themselves up into fists so tight that his nails cut into his palms. “...If...they were accurate…”

He managed to force the words out somehow. I am no coward. If he’s going to throw my heart back in my face, I can damn well meet it head-on. “If they were? What would you do, Acatl-tzin?”

“...I’d say we should be more discreet, for starters.”

We. His heart leapt, and this time he didn’t tell it to stop. He could barely breathe; the dread had faded, and pure joy was fizzling up to replace it. “Does that mean you—“

Acatl pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand to help him up as well. “It means, I think we should continue this discussion inside.”

They didn’t wind up doing much talking.

[saltyfilmmajor]

Questions

My mother barely holds back her tears as she delivers the eulogy for my father. The church is silent, with only the tears of the congregation to break it. There’s a beautiful glass-stained window behind her, at the top of the altar, illuminated by the mid-morning sun.

“My husband was a loving man, he worked hard for me and my daughter…” my mind begins to wander, not that it was really all there to begin with. It all feels like a bad dream, all muddle up with scary emotions and surreal imagery. You know, like the ones where your teeth fall out in front of everyone. I just want to get away from this place. Full of mourning people who knew my father in different ways. Coworkers, church members, family. And then there’s me. I step outside, no longer wanting to sit idly by as my mother begins to cry, the mascara staining her face.

I stand outside the church wrapped up in my winter coat. It’s been years since I’ve seen some of these people. Cousins and aunts and uncles. People who watched me grow up. It’s funny how time drifted us all apart, we all used to be so close. Was it time or was it me? Mm, perhaps we both share the blame. The cold air nips at my skin keeping me from collapsing from exhaustion. The tiredness of grief I suppose. Still, my eyes begin to droop as I reminisce the last time the family was together about three years ago. They are fond memories, but they all start to blur after a while so I can’t differentiate them. I can hear myself talking.

The syllables roll around like marbles in mouth. My tongue emphasizes the wrong accents, my r’s and double l’s mispronounced like a beginner. I mix up el and la constantly only to be corrected by my father immediately after. Both in our home and amongst family my voice speaks a broken Spanish. I am an outsider to them. The Spanish that rolls off the tongue of my relatives is quick and fluid, like a well-oiled machine. They never need to second guess themselves. They speak with confidence while I speak with shame. Still, I smile and nod.

When my family gets together, we are all crammed in a small apartment. Small children run around, screaming and laughing. Sounds that come with the carelessness of childhood. The smell of food wafts from the kitchen at the other end of the apartment. My aunt and cousins are preparing dinner fussing over pots and pans on a hot stove, making sure that there will be enough for the 30 of us.

Because the apartment is so small, the heat from the kitchen reaches the living and dining rooms. The adults sit around in the living room, with a tv that is somehow too loud and too quiet. They all speak animatedly about sports and work, and old memories of their youth. The children make trouble and I am sitting in the corner observing.

My cousins are older than me, married with young children. They are vulgar but also full of warmth. We joke like teenagers, but I am the youngest of them at 19.

“Prima, what are you going to school for?”

My eyes shift to my father, he is talking to one of my cousins’ wives. He is beaming and joking. I can’t help but think that I am a burden on him. I smile politely and tell them I haven’t decided what I want to major in. That placates them for now.

After a few minutes, dinner is finally served on cheap paper plates and plastic cutlery. The food, however, is made with love and care and I readily devour it in seconds. I sit next to my father; he is already eating his third tamale. I’m glad he is able to enjoy himself. My mother laughs and says, “Remember when my daughter would eat like that?” The comparisons begin again, like at every family gathering. I don’t mind them much. My father and I are alike in temperament and in appetite. However, I suddenly excuse myself from the table and hide in the bathroom. I feel as though I’m failing my father. In a room full of uneducated people, they have their lives set in order. They work, they live, they take care of their families. They aren’t tied down to expectations like I am. I’ve worked my whole life to get into a good school, and now that I’m actually there, I don’t know what to do. This is the first time I realize I was raised with a survivalist mentality. The memory fades back as I remain standing by the entrance of the church.

“Did you get to enjoy your life?” I ask out loud, wondering if he was able to live and enjoy the fruits of his labor. I walk back inside; someone is bound to notice my absence. I’d rather not have gossip run around the walls of the church. Heathens they are, grabbing onto anything that’s unseemly and passing their judgments, even at the funeral of one of their own well-respected members. I feel their eyes stare on at me waiting for me to slip up. Once school began I stopped congregating here. I couldn’t stand their hollow smiles. Sincerity among the church is not a common trait. It is hypocritical of me to judge them, but it’s not like I’d tell them directly how I feel. They won’t know.

I drive home with my mother after my father’s burial. An American grave, against his own wishes. But he’s dead now I don’t think he’d mind. How much is an American grave worth, compared to one from Guatemala? Does it mean the possibility of a better status in the afterlife?

I don’t say that out loud, I don’t think my mother would appreciate it. I can’t help but be flippant otherwise I have to think about my feelings. Reminders that despite my best efforts, I am still a vulnerable human. Grief can cloud your perception, and as horrid as it sounds I’d rather be in my mother’s shoes.

My father’s death leaves questions in its wake I’d rather not contemplate. I’m an over-thinker by trade. I think humanities majors are required by law to be. My mother has fallen asleep and I try to drive carefully. She hasn’t slept in about three days, spending them crying and

eating. While I sleep and have lost my appetite. I wish I could do more for her. The love of her life is gone, and it destroys me inside. But all I can do is drive her home and heat up the leftovers in the fridge. My thoughts go back to my father, even if they never really left him.

He wanted to be buried near his father back home in rural Guatemala. The gravesites painted with colorful hues of purple, pink, and orange, contrasting with the vibrant green of the landscape. Death, at least in the aesthetics, is much more of a celebration in his homeland. Given the incredibly intense Protestant culture that is embedded in the country, I understand why. Death is never the end, twenty years of Sunday morning sermons drilled it into me. Yet now, I find myself questioning it. An American gravesite, making his corpse part of the land that rejected him and his kind. Still, he had managed to find work. Work, work, work. That’s all my dad did. Even in death, all I can think about is how he worked. Worked for our house, our food, my schooling, everything. He took pride in being a breadwinner and being able to be the man of the house. He didn’t have much growing up, so he learned to survive.

As a survivalist you must use the tools available to you. It didn’t matter that I was his daughter and not his son. Gender roles mean little when you aspire for your only offspring to thrive.

I helped him around the house, I helped with the yard work, the heavy lifting, learning how to work on cars and handle money. Along with cooking and cleaning. My status as an only child meant I become much more well-rounded than I otherwise would have been.

My father valued education above all else. Perhaps because it was not available to him. At the tender age of eight, he began to work the land and by thirteen he left school altogether.

He had no childhood. No room to enjoy being a dumb teenager. He passed that on to me, every time I brought home a test grade or a report card. I’d come home and run up the stairs happy to show him the ninety-two I got on my algebra exam, a subject I had struggled in.

“Ok good, but next time you get a one hundred.” He was satisfied, but that was it. No beaming pride, no congratulations. My smile faltered and I’d show my mother, telling her what my father said. We’d laugh about it, but deep down it hurt. He tried to teach me to do better but what he taught me instead was dissatisfaction. It wasn’t good enough. I had to get straight A’s, to get into a good school, to get a good job, to become successful.

I graduate soon at the end of the semester. Four long, hard years capping off a chapter I’ve spent almost my entire life working towards. But now after working so hard for a degree he spent my entire life telling me to aspire towards, he’s just gone. Dead, never to rise again.

All these years of pressure to get a piece of paper that says I went to college and he has the audacity to die.

“Are you proud of me? Were you ever proud of me?”

The question stirs in me and I am frightened by the fact that I truly don’t know the answer. Understanding my father’s motives does not bring me closure and asking questions just makes me angry. He taught me everything he could, but I still feel unprepared. What do I do without him here, telling me to aspire for more? All he ever wanted was to do was survive but he wanted me to want to live. Grammar nerds would say those words mean the same, but linguists would beg to differ. Although I side with the linguists I’d rather not argue about the semantics in my head, especially not while my mother is still fast asleep.

The sun has since set and the front of our house is cold and uninviting. My father’s car is in the driveway, so I park in the street. Even in something so innocuous my father is still

influencing my decisions. The more pertinent decision to make is will I choose to live or merely survive? Will I be like my father or will I become his expectations of me?

Maybe I’ll take the third option and just stop asking.

[flannelpunkcalum]

Hey @theagenderwhocriedwolf ! I’m SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE but hopefully the content kind of makes up for it! It’s been a delight being your secret santa! Let me know how you find it, I’m dying to know. 

Michael was nervous.

Not in a bad way, not really, not in the lung-crushing way. He didn’t have that so much anymore. Just nervous.

Christmas had been really, really good this year. He’d been able to see his parents a little before the actual holiday, and he’d spent the morning curled up with Raye and Southy and making breakfast with Christmas music playing and then absolutely spoiled them with presents and it had just been the best he could have hoped for.

But now they were showered and dressed up and he was fussing with his hair in the hallway mirror wondering why he hadn’t made a more, I dunno, tame style his personal brand all those years ago. 

It wasn't gonna make a great first impression, meeting his partner’s parents.

“You almost ready?” Raye said, appearing behind him. They looked great. Well, they always looked great, but especially lately. Mikey liked to think it was because he was keeping them so happy. They didn’t get a lot of time together, so it was really important for him to make use of the time they had together. Judging by the softness in Raye’s gaze, he was doin’ alright for himself so far.

“I’m ready if you say I am, my love.” He said, holding out his arms for inspection.

Raye didn’t even hesitate before they spoke up. “My family’s gonna love you, handsome.”

“I'm guapo.” Michael smiled, turning to grab his jacket. He’d been trying to pick up a little Spanish ever since his partner had floated the idea of visiting their family over Christmas, and his accent was still horrible. It was worth it to get that smile out of them, though, every time he threw in something from his tiny vocabulary.

“Muy guapo.” They agreed, very generously. “Now let’s go before we’re late, alright?”

Michael toes on his shoes. “Vamanos.”

By the time they pulled into the driveway, he was feeling agitated again. He had never really met someone’s family for Christmas before. He really, really needed to get this right; Raye would love him through most mistakes he made tonight, he knew, but - he just wanted them to see how well he could fit with their family.

“Hey,” he heard, and when he shut the car off and looked they were looking back, eyes full of concern. “You gonna be alright? You don’t have to come in for long-”

“-no, no, I want to. I’m just - nervous.”

Raye gave his hand a squeeze. “You can handle sold-out stadiums, you can handle my family.” They said, before slipping out of the car.

Michael wasn’t so sure. Stadium tours were all well and good, but Raye had never been on the line before.

He was just gonna freak himself out about this if he stayed in there any longer. He took a deep breath and slid out, joining Raye as they headed to the house. Was he slouching? He tried to check his posture as Raye knocked and opened the door. They both slipped inside, but Mikey had barely stepped inside the threshold before his partner disappeared into a massive hug.

Despite his nerves, he felt himself smiling at the sight. Raye deserved to be so loved. And, of course, he hadn't even taken off his jacket before someone detached themselves from the hug and was coming for him. “And this must be Michael, hm? Don't be silly,” the woman added as he extended his hand to shake. Instead, he found himself folded into a hug just as warm as the one he had seen enveloping Raye.

“Looks like you’ve met my mother.” Raye smiled as they pried the coat out of his hand to hang it up.

“Pleasure to meet you.” He managed.

When Raye’s mother pulled away, her eyes were smiling. “You should have brought him home sooner.” She said, turning to her child. As Raye’s father started to greet him, Michael thought he heard Raye murmur I know.

That made all his nerves worth it.

After that, it was easy. He met her grandparents, endured good-natured teasing over his wardrobe, answered questions about his band. Over tamales, where Raye had been kind enough to tell him not to eat the wrapping, he sat close enough to them that their knees brushed under the table. It wasn't like a Christmas would have been at his parents’, but it was good. It felt right to be here, with Raye by his side. He liked seeing the way they smiled when he got up to help clear the table.

“Who’s having dessert?” Their mother asked, as soon as the dishes had been cleared. “Michael?”

“Oh, nothing for me, thank you. Dinner was great I'm - I mean, if Raye gets something I'll help them.” He joked, sharing a look with his partner. He didn't want to be the kind of boyfriend who controlled what they ate, but after he found out about their diabetes - listen, if he could encourage their health, he'd give up all the Christmas cookies in the world.

Raye must have appreciated it, because they split a small portion with him and that was it. Michael tried not to show how much his heart swelled at that. He was trying to eat healthier too, so as not make his lover feel left out, and he knew now how hard it could be to say no to sweets. It meant a lot that they would do that partly for him.

When they moved into the den to read the Christmas story, Michael pulled Raye close and slung an arm around them. “Can I just say, quickly, that I'm so grateful to you guys for letting me join you this year.” He announced, before anyone had started reading. “It really means a lot.”

Raye folded in a little closer at that as her family beamed, and Michael felt a little surge of joy. This was big, right? Meeting the parents and all. If he was really, really lucky, maybe he'd get Christmases like this for the rest of his life.

“We're happy to have you here,” Their grandmother said, turning to Raye. “Mija, you picked a good one.”

Michael didn't have to look; he could feel the way Raye was smiling beside him as the story was read. “Mija?” He whispered to them, trying not to attract any attention. Raye shushed him, but they didn't seem to really mind. He made a mental note to ask them about that when they got home. They looked so sweet when they heard that, made him want to use it more often.

But that could wait until they got home. For now, he had his partner beside him as they listened to an ancient story, warm and fed and blessed to be together. For some reason, he felt like Christmas was about to become his favourite holiday.

[cottagecori]

hey look it's your turn. ALL OF THEM.

I’M ACTUALLY GONNA DO IT THOUGH (under a read more bc it’s loooong)

jasmine; what mythical creature do you wish actually existed?

DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS 

lavender; soundcloud or vinyls?

Vinyls!!! I wish I owned some but we don’t have a functional record player in my house (we have a broken one that my dad keeps telling me he’s going to fix but never does which is fine i’m fine)

primrose; what book does everyone right now need to read?

I have two. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE AKA MY FAVORITE BOOK OF ALL TIME and Night by Elie Wiesel because it is just so power and eye-opening 

lunar mist; do you like wearing other people’s shirts/jackets?

YES YES YES I AM WEARING MY DAD’S OLD HOODIE RN BECAUSE IT’S SOFT AND GIANT OTHER PEOPLE’S CLOTHES ARE THE BEST. When i have a relationship, I will steal my so’s stuff all the time so yeah

bird of paradise; what was the best thing that happened to you this month?

I started a vlog and it’s actually really nice to do

gardenia; what’s a promise you’ve recently made to yourself?

to stop pretending like i’m okay and admit when i’m hurt

lion’s fairytale; would you rather be the sky, the ocean or the forests?

Oh god oH GOD THAT’S SO HARD 

Probably the forest because it can be a million different things. It can be a getaway, a mystery, a familiar place. it embodies the feeling of seeing an old friend after a long time and i love it.

whirling butterflies; would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

i’ve never kissed anyone so

marmalade skies; do you plan your outfits?

only when i have to be formal the rest of the time that shirt that’s on my floor works great

apricot drift; how do you feel right now?

numb

everlasting daisy; what’s the last dream you remember having?

i was in boston with you, rose, and my irl friends and we had this giant apartment overlooking the commons and i went to college at emerson and it was nice until there was a murder (bc i was watching scream) and i woke up so yeah i have strange dreams

queen’s cup; what are you craving right now?

french toast with strawberries

lavender dream; turn ons/offs?

maybe another time ;)

water lilly; when was the last time you cried? why?

uh Monday. I have intense family problems that i can’t talk to anyone irl about and then my dad got really mad at me. 

lily of the valley; did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize?

no. 

winterberry; do you bite or lick your ice cream?

both depending on where it’s from 

honey perfume; favorite movie ever?

DO NOT MAKE ME CHOOSE

desert rose; do you like yourself?

does anyone really?

snapdragon; have you ever met or seen in person a celebrity?

I saw Corbyn Besson at my mall once but that’s it

night owl; how many countries have you visited?

I’VE NEVER BEEN OUTSIDE OF THE US AND IT SUCKS

heliotrope; have you ever been in a castle?

^^

creams and sky; what’s the craziest/bravest thing you’ve done?

asked someone out?

lantana; what’s on your mind right now?

the fact that i overslept for a mock exam so now i’m kinda stressed out about how the actual exam will go

pumpkin patch; what’s your zodiac sign?

gemini!

tulip; name 5 facts about yourself.

i can play 4 instruments and am learning a fifth, i like cats more than most people (depending on the people), i love sour candy, i’m addicted to makeup, and i’m not a huge fan of coffee

daphne; do you believe in karma?

to a certain extent

queen of the meadow; ever been in love?

thought i was, not so sure anymore

wisteria; whom do you admire and why?

my friends. they’ve gone through some tough shit and have come out even stronger.

angel’s face; what was your favorite bedtime story as a child?

too many tamales

remember me; did you make someone laugh today?

i have no clue because it is 11 am

iris; do you believe in ghosts?

yes

lilac; if you could go back in time which time period would you visit?

could i change skin color too, bc otherwise i don’t have a lot of options (probably the 90s)

caramel kisses; would you want to live forever? why/why not?

no, because i feel like if you live forever there is more a chance for you to not live at all (thanks tuck everlasting for the lesson)

primula; what makes you sad?

way too many things

rain lily; was today typical? why/why not?

nope it’s a saturday and i’m emotional

queen anne’s lace; who do you trust the most?

mak, rose, carolyn, linh, my irl friend group, sammie, brenna, caroline

lady’s slipper; what did you have for breakfast today?

dried mago slices (i know i’m sorry, i’m making waffles now)

forget me not; do you have any regrets looking back in your life?

oh god so many

lunaria; what’s your favorite fictional universe?

anywhere with magic and dragons so i can go visit my friends easily

violet; favorite tv show?

The Office

sunflower; share a favorite quote.

I use this one a lot 

“Nothing is worth more than laughter. It is strength to laugh, to abandon oneself, to be light” ~Frida Kahlo 

snowdrop; what does your ideal day look like?

Walking around the woods, taking cute pictures in fields of flowers, sunny day, starry night, cheesy romcoms played off a projector, good food, better friends

tiger lily; do you have any hobbies?

i write music, it’s hard

peony; share a small random book passage that means something to you.

i can’t think of one off the top of my head unfortunately

tea rose; what’s something you always wanted to do but were too scared?

open mic nights

honeysuckle; do you usually date people your age or older/younger?

older idk why i’ve just always been attracted to older people

sweet pea; who means the world to you? why?

my friends because they’ve stuck by me even though i’m fucked up in my personal life and in my head

love in the mist; best books you’ve ever read?

Pride and Prejudice, Night, Ender’s Game, Fangirl, The House on Mango Street, Harry Potter

foxglove; who is your favorite cartoon character?

Phineas, Ferb, and Perry the Platypus

magnolia; coffee or tea?

tea duh

crown imperial; would you rather be extremely rich or extremely loved?

extremely loved

snowflake; are you a dog or a cat person?

IS THAT EVEN A QUESTION 

bell flower; what is your biggest addiction?

listening to sad music when i’m sad

cosmos; do you ever think about the galaxy?

god it’s so fascinating i think about it probably more than i should

moonflower; what’s your favorite color?

yellow/teal

freesia; do you have a good relationship with your parents and siblings? why/why not?

Parents: complicated. Siblings: Fuck Yeah

sundrop; are you a morning or a night person?

Night but i’m trying to trick myself into being a morning person

poppy; have you ever dealt with a mental illness?

still dealing with depression

clover; how would your friends describe you?

loud, annoying, barely funny, takes no shit (i’m paraphrasing of course)

dandelion; do you consider yourself and extrovert or an introvert?

none of the above. i’m a lil bit of both? 

lilly; what’s something you love watching/reading but you are too embarrassed to admit you do?

I’m not really embarrassed about the stuff i watch

anemone; describe yourself in 3 words.

Emotional, Wannabe, Broadway?

lotus; best memory as a child?

baking things with my dad while my mom blasted music throughout the house and cleaned

angelonia; what is your eye and hair color?

Brown, Black respectively 

dahlia; do you like crystals?

yeah!

buttercup; if you could change one thing in the world, what would it be?

guns wouldn’t fucking exist

baby’s breath; what’s your hogwarts house?

R A V E N C L A W BITCHES

calendula; biggest pet peeve?

people who think they don’t have to be kind to working people or leave a giant mess for them to clean up because “it’s their job”

blanker flower; would you rather go to a cocktail party with your best friends or stay home and read a book/watch a movie with your pet?

i love my friends but give me a rom com and a cat and i’m set for life

blazing star; share a secret.

you wish ;)

carnation; would you rather live longer or happier?

happier 100%

petunia; who’s story is your biggest inspiration in life? why?

Frida Kahlo. A badass bitch who did so much and never let her injury get the best of her. also Emma Gonzales 

bluebell; do you wear glasses?

yuup

nymphea; forest or river?

forest

orchid; do you like exercise?

FUCK NO

pansy; do you like poetry?

i write my own ♥

morning glory; any special talent that you have?

songwriting? singing? playing flute? idk man

i’m so sorry if you actually got this far

[krysbec]

A very merry quarantine Christmas

Every year my excitement for Christmas grew as I got older, as time moved on I started caring less about the big things that mattered at some point in my life and started taking notice of the things that mattered the most. The smallest things that made a difference during Christmas time was going to the store to pick up groceries that were needed to make tamales, hot chocolate, and whatever else was needed for the dinner that was being prepared a couple days before it was going to be consumed by friends and family. Those little trips to the store with my grandparents to get what was needed, the light laughter that filled the car when an inside joke was made between the three of us, or the emotional bonding that grew each time we shared stories about past life experiences. The moments when I’d walk into the kitchen to only smell the hot chocolate that was being made and occasionally stir the pot. Even better, I’d sneak a small coffee mug just so I can secretly pour myself a cup before anyone else can. Waking up mid-day to family members making tamales, laughter filling up the dining room because jokes are being passed around along with old stories and funny memories from the year before. Experiences that were learned from before are now moments to look back to. The smell of the chili that was made earlier that morning, filling up the kitchen and the dining room. Becoming impatient because I can’t wait till the first batch of tamales to be ready just so I can eat a couple. The year we’ve had as a whole, has been a roller coaster and I’d do anything to have those small moments back. The running around to countless stores, worrying about if the food is going to finish in time before guests arrive, becoming stressed out because what you have planned out didn’t go accordingly and ended up falling through. Even though this is the first year that we as a family didn’t do the main important traditions as a whole, not being able to be woken up by the laughter from the dining room and smelling the chili being cooked or sneaking hot chocolate, it’s made me realize that the little things during the holidays are so important. No matter how tiny they may seem, it can be from baking cookies with friends or seeing how a certain dish is made. Because of quarantine, none of that can happen; not in the slightest. In some families, it’s made possible and in others it’s just a small distant memory that all we can do is relive those moments by looking at pictures, drifting into that place in our mind that makes us pull that memory out of our mental filing cabinet or even better, calling up a loved one and talking about the moments that made the holidays worth remembering. It’s been a sad year filled with sickness, families being apart, loved ones being lonely, and having to deal with their issues alone but there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and it's shining bright. From my quarantined family to yours, Happy Holidays.

[agringainghana]

Settling in....

It’s been about a week and a half now after my return to Tamale, Ghana.  Although I have already lived here 6 months prior, there are many things that have changed but more that have not.

The city of Tamale has been cleaned up.  The women that sold seasonal fruits, salt, sponges, matches, and/or laundry soup were all rounded up from the city center and moved to a more remote area of the massive market.  The military also started policing traffic, meaning that the riders of motobikes actually stop at red lights now.  The result of these changes is a rather organized, slightly less chaotic city center.  Let’s see how long that lasts.

As for things that haven’t changed: the erratic tendencies of all utilities, Ghanaians trying to swindle you because you’re white, and of course.... communication problems.

A shower with a max of 5 drops an hour.  Still grateful to have any water though.

Getting ready to go out to dinner on a Saturday night.  Lights out have been common lately.  Apologies to my fridge. 

 Besides the utility frustrations, I still cannot get used to the heat!  The worst of the dry season is over thankfully but everyday averages in the mid 90s.  Literally I’m anywhere doing something for less than an hour before I crave a shower.  I have left social gatherings early because my skin felt too sticky.  Maybe I’m just high maintenance.... yes that’s probably it.  Fortunately the rainy season begins soon and temperatures will go down to the 80s, sometimes even the 70s!  Brrr...

Me during the rainy season.  Please hurry cool cool weather!

I just completed my first week at SARI!  Still organizing and weighing seeds, but this season I hired a technician and it’s much more enjoyable and productive than doing it all myself.  I also had the foresight to print the information for my ~3000 envelopes instead of hand writing them this time around.  

A post shared by Carrie Miranda (@imnotwittytoo) on May 5, 2017 at 8:42am PDT

This saved me about a week and a half of work and a box of Sharpies. 

Hakeem, my new technician, and I trying to make our small space work.  I can spare my pride to work on the floor for the sake of soybean science!

Hakeem and I are preparing germination tests.  Essentially you select 25 seeds from random experimental soybean lines from different environments, wrap them in wet paper towels, and after 3-4 days count which ones sprouted.  Fingers crossed for 100% but I’d be happy with even 80%.  Poor soybean germination/emergence is one of the several major hurdles for soybean production in the tropics.

On Friday, Hakeem myself and another researcher George visited our furthest research site in Wa, Ghana.  Wa is about 4 hours away driving but only 190 miles!  If an American highway was put in place you could reach it in less than 3 hours, but due to all the speed bumps going through villages it substantially slows our drive/makes me car sick.  Here in Wa we measured our field plots (my field is 0.7 acres) and took soil samples to test for soil fertility.  We then drove back the same day!  Aye! 

During the busy first week it’s important to maintain your nutrition levels aka eat delicious meals.  I’ll spare you the gringa meals I ate as they are already well known but there are several dishes I ate that are extremely rare in the States.

This is fufu, a dough made of cassava.  As an American I would think it’s also important to discuss the type of soup and meat that comes with the fufu when ordering but nope.... not here.  In fact this day, I didn’t even want the fufu but the woman was SHOCKED at the fact that I didn’t want scalding hot soup when it’s 97 degrees out, so I reluctantly ordered it.  This fufu is served with light soup, essentially a meat broth and palm oil, and my meat is guinea fowl.  Yum!

Yep....you eat the soup and fufu with your hands.  Some gringos use a spoon, but I’m trying to blend.  Think it’s convincing?

After a hard days work it’s important to relax.  Honestly, I spend most evenings on my phone, or preparing food, or on social media, or reading (currently The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende), or texting.... so... I keep busy. 

But of course there are some nights that I venture out of my cozy house to spend time with my friends.  I am lucky that several of my friends from last year are still here so re-assimilation has been quite easy.  

Genna is way braver than I when it comes to motodriving.  I definitely do not mind being the passenger.

Cruising through those Tamale streets.

But now the weekend is over and it is time to mentally prepare for another busy work week.  But no need to worry about your author, tonight I have full strength electricity and high pressure water.  I’m absolutely spoiled on this Sunday night.  

Hasta la proxima vez!!

[lunarfae714]

more poems, a few seasons past

how lucky to have breath

stop & ask why we live

question our structures

question human history & wor ship

find out we know nothing.

just be.

an open container

for Spirit.

***

twenty Worn tetherballs

off-the-chain

in the plain view of

concrete charade

people in heavy metal boxes

on wheels shrugging off

piss-stained balls

in unmarked yards

i wonder if you

saw the roads,

high ways

concrete carplays

in the colors of the mental play

of each driver

would they be

colorful, or still grey?

grateful or stray?

what strain of gasoline

fuels the minds

of mindless drivers

what excites us

while our earth decays

who makes our day

when the culture is so far away

from deep roots,

holding neighbors' hands

taboo

what can we plant

& grow too?

return to our mother

to our tribe.

together,

without divide.

**

possession at the rainbow gathering.

sacred fire

not so sacred afterfall

as the village dissects the chip

from the backside of her ear

she stops talking to rosemary-

who haunts her waking,

green eyes that travel

like a bouncy ball,

lost

muttering

paranoid

in a void.

***

let these hands transform

to portals to open doors

from playing the piano of dirt,

sparking fruitful dance of the earth

Gaia feeds us when we feed her

when we pour out love, it comes back in

we let another cosmic spiral begin~

to serve our creations of the now~

for our hearts, our ears, our old souls

in strange flresh want to be stirred, not shut down

conduct our hands & our throats

as intruments of Light, sailing the eternal boat

help us let go of illusions of fear,

discomfort, darkness we know

help us let Go

the light comes in nothingness

it comes in silence

our shared dream

our family

our energy

recycled & renewed

cleansed with intention

our energy reflects

infinity.

***

pictures for what

at the sevensacredpools

high rockpiles

tourists drenched in neon

not stopping to be

but to get a photograph.

as the water that freefalls

with the wind, the breath

of the Sea & i came

by foot, naked under a raincoat

to watch the sky sitcom,

color show,

highfive cows

on the silent jungle road.

the sole palm on the mountain

anal, how we can be selfish

not giving all we can like the

monkeypods give the wind,

the rain gives the stream,

we plant the seeds for our earth

or ourselves

what is really greater

its

obvious

and yet

we destroy it

but the pictures are pretty

what moment is worth capturing

when memory distracts us

from growth?

glorify the photo

the still

eternal film

identity

how can we be fre

from our memory?

***

newyearseve at the potfarm

when we broke the wood splitter

after sunsets 

cum & dirty animals

on the trail

fingering a carcass

shoegaze & bodyshots

on couches that aren't ours.

& the girl on the phone

asks what i'm doing with

my poetry degere

***

when i am blind

i can really see

how the sun reflects the rocks on the shore

a million suns line the sea

& mother moon takes up half the sky

the light is grand when i can see.

***

plate lunch

found bliss in darkness

you are the white light in my dream

when our chests align

divine

runs through our body line

celestial

nightlightning strike on

these cages of flesh

these brains

of judgment &

fear, weight

evaporate

with the light

angel

when i am only

white light

charged

full-body-bliss

the game creatures of the system

fully charged

to give the white light to

next emotional vagabond

the sleeping dream is

the waking dream

and we are the fingers to turn the switch

**

kitttens in the palm of my hand

detachment meditation

the ever-moving train within

we become the beauty

of earths afternoon rainsong

bamboo creaks of delight

aesthetic throatsing

sweet simplicity of hot water

and ginger.

the bowl sings

when the wind moves

over our head.

remove the mask

and truly see everything.

***

12.29.16

above the monkeypods,

touched by south-blown aire,

the breath of old-man Saturn

we wait among

nebulas of cyberlit selfiesticks-

modern self-sacrifice--

wait for the moon to rise--

to wait

a lost practice

in the fast-paced

outer-space

instant-gratified

culture without gratitude.

wait

on layers & layers

of sacred stone.

present-

with the knowledge

inside these bodies

we were once the hands

that carried the stone,

the bled freely,

that knew the reflections

of the planetary drama:

the sky-show on Earth

the sacred Nature

& geometry of it all-

even the rocks wait with us

in our collective breath

in this cloud of illusion

brought by the family

of dragonflies.

**

1.25.15

the darkness inbetween

flashes of consciousness

like drowning air

the hidden woodpecker

or the muted tree

the distant shotgun

melody, off-key

or how the cobweb tangoes

from the liquid gold

coasulates 5pm power of afternoon sun

a never quiet forest

forever beckoning yet

i forgot the magic

down the tree talk

leave the thumbprint acrons

speared dry pine tears

the worms and the thorns

the rhythmic bubbles

of breath like the hotsprings

fairywands

synsthesia woodspell

mesmerizing & dulled

with my blank stare in the pan

my body that will tremble no more

to reel in the

brother & sister shepherd

until the bites swell

my skin once again.

i take a baby pinecone

& wait to exhale.

**

2.6.15

neruda aftertastes of lovepoems

i come in your nothingness

like a passing rainffall

thoughts lost before

the sun's descent

i come in your mayan silence

like a bite of garden candy

in the middle of a fast

you come to me in dreams--

even in dreams, you lift me

with wonder, divine light

two nude chests perfectly align

sorrows dissipate like dew

the other eve, you were the water

of my illusion. you sobbed

shoulders hunched & heaving

for you, for me, for

the static of our living movie.

why did i leave neverland

for another open hand?

i will be the Bliss you bring me.

**

a late february migration

not spending a dmie

bicycles where the cars pass

down the volcano,

in a musty trailer with bellyaches

distracted from the new colors

of flora 

i still feel it-

in the folks who lift us up

in the backs of their trucks

in the washed-up tortoise

& freefalling passionfruit,

mellow music & polynesian words 

like medicine of

slow-moving people

on a slow-moving island.

**

1.31

cream-colored fairies before noon

wave after wave, stretched & bird-like

transforming into waterfowl

flowed with breasts & freckles,

whiskey shadow gods explain

narratives of the dead kings

and holy mothers from Spain,

irrelevancies?

*

december sweat

underbelly portal

left open too long

can the body forget to breathe?

can the chicken be born again

to walk out of your potroast?

the belly rolls of dead madron

the rolls in the way

between a clear mind

and the state of distraction

don't linger on loves lost,

the lack of drive

december sweat

from my armpits

to the hole under the madron

to water the earth

as i burrow my bones.

***

santa cruz

twenty-two days to reach enlightenemnet

crowded redwood trails

this morning made our

separation a scene

to be by the sea

the water that mirrors the wild in me

light colors here hide the darkness

the oversized pastel homes

the white skin that reigns

worriless over white sand

when you cook close

sun reflects the glass, for grains, charcoal bark

whiteness

in the dark solitude of the mountain

i went a little mad.

**

winter solstice

black panther spirit in an abandoned field

when we slept in the church van

Bast, or an old Indian

reminding us of the white man torture.

with my spirit guide beside

desert trips where there used to be forest

california is dead.

christmas tamales inspired by the border

my season of depression.

*

my dance teacher once told me

making the bed each day just makes the whole house look nice

instructing the direction of my hips.

*

music is in every moment

music already abundnat

frequencies & fractals

geometry of movement

death is stealing new cycles

the animals of our bed

change with the temperature of our tears

the cycle of our mothers

we communicate here

travel through the galaxies

warm tears of sorrow & joy

faces in everything

trees remind you of the people you miss in yourself.

counterclock spirals

in the half-lit cabin

we watch fire like a television,

the sound of fallen wood tongues

we roll the dice in the manifesting mind

read wet eyes of my lover

always surprise me

candelit rest

in the pyramid home.

**

-fluid static-

lullyabing nightmares

the appetizers we dream in the mid-afternoon

bells of bedridden in our sacred triangle

madron, smoke & mirrors,

high-hung hiding termites and antlers,

a dome to sky pines.

spirits flash in to watch

the dark shadows of grace float ---the creatures.

**

what are street drugs?

laying on the bench outside the coffeshop,

run by a wealthy church.

overheard conversation

"not much to talk about=not too bad"

they hold their books from the Free Bible room

"have my bed its not weird, its not weird"

so removed in my head on narcos & weeping

in public from the way we treat each other & our pathwhere

i lost it

"it is easy not to look"

suburban sidewalk study

they look at me & look away

i needed a break from the noise

the orchestra of voices

loud women constant concerns &

biology notes & lost boots left

the churchgoers car

nice drums or jazz

monster of control & demand

well dressed church leaders

the church folk always look happier 

the safety in identity,

acceptance in anonymity

Which do you prefer?

the anonymity of white privelge

smiles from passing men or children

or the constant attention of a white girl

in central america

smiles from passing men

both kind and undressing

to fade or melt in fake empires?

**

new mexico first

midnight coyote call & elk herds

push shower & chocolate oatmeal on a campstove

cacti spruce & mesquite

empty roads & desert

adobe & forests

dry heat, redwillow, aspen and mullen.

crescent waxing

in the Sky's midnight cloud paintings

leaving Pueblo into the Rockies

in the valley by river end

sunset moonrise

folk music & free firewood

grandfather faces in a redrock mountain

the most constellations under

the clear sky with lightning storms afar.

**

befriending bibcycle junkies

outside the donut shop

in the town where i dont belong

sunshine cupo'joe to calm

a long night of meth.

hidden hundreds

in a fake locked book,

jerry garcia

eases the sneeze & aches

roadhead to ease the fights

bald cop with traveling advice

sleeping & sneezing in reststops

free food and kind strangers in memphis

latenight roadsodas 

stovestop cooking

cement lots with new friends

arkansas

for naked boatrides,

on a manmade lake

until the elder tells us to come back

the universe always provides to the Lovers

friends, meals to eat, where to rest,

water to bathe, towns that like a little color,

soul music, spoken word and dancing hips.

*

america

self-titled pais of

corporate stores of things that no one needs

restaurants with deadly ingredients

people stay in their boxes

drive in their cars

cops lurking hyjenas to cuff

those whose feet

graze, tease the edge of the boxes

the white-dotted lines

so the animals can return to boxes,

jailcells

and the president

in his great white box

declares war and shows us

to spend money we dont have

perpetual enslavement

taxes to start another

generation of animals.

train emergencies

when they can really know

the nature of themselves

in disappearing grass.

*

lumberjack love

rainbow

palm-planted

midnight

blue-breasted

humminbirds

of foreign lands

stinkbugs & cicadas

orbit my lobes

in red kitchens

while houseflies

frolick on treasure island

and our bubblegum mattress on wheels-

the birds of paradise

cocoooned

to the insects of now.

my lover

who moves & speaks through the sea & moonlight

has human hands again.

[chelsorz07]

no sleep. no caffeine. no joint mobility.

2010/2018

Do you ever eat when you're not particularly hungry? i just eat, all the time. could be why i'm so fat. I’m always hungry. Or bored. So yeah. Have you ever gone up a mountain on a train? i've never been on a train. Still haven’t. What is your favourite hot beverage? tea. I don’t like hot beverages. I let tea and coffee get to room temperature, then put ice in them. And if I get coffee from Sheetz or Timmy Ho’s, it’s frozen. Do you have an alter ego? Describe them: no. I barely have one personality. What was your imaginary friend called when you were a child? i had many. I still have many. Can you see the stars at night where you live? sometimes. notsomuch in the city. light pollution and whatnot. Probably could if I went outside. Where do you live? here. Ohio, unfortunately. Is there anyone you just can't get out of your head? all the time. People back home. Do you prefer cats or dogs? Why? cats. i hate dogs. they're noisy and ugly and they smell. and they're always sniffing things. I don’t hate dogs anymore but cats are still far superior. One thing you'd like to achieve this year: move out. Move home. Funny how that happens. Food: Are you adventurous or do you stick to what you know? sometimes i'll try new stuff but it's usually just the basics. I do not like new things. Are you a hoarder of useless items? i used to be. now i get rid of shit right and left. Yeah I need things to make me happy because nothing else does. What colour do you think suits you best? Is this your favourite colour? navy blue, and no it's not. green is my favorite color. Same. Is there anything (out of the obvious) that makes you feel really ill? a lot of things. but the one that's fresh in my mind is blue cheese. Wendy’s. Do you know both of your biological parents? Which one do you prefer? of course i know them. and they both annoy me most of the time. My dad. If you could intern anywhere, where would you choose? a record company. A publishing house. Or I’d apprentice with a contractor. When was the last time you wrote so much your finger ached? a couple weeks ago. I don’t write anymore. But if it means anything, my finger hurts anyway thanks to arthritis. Do you store a lot of pictures you've taken that no one else has seen? i pretty much show them to people. almost all my pictures are of maranda. I probably have a lot of selfies that nobody has seen but I’m just too lazy to delete them. And I have a shit ton of memes saved that I keep meaning to send to Amanda and forget. Do you prefer film or digital pictures? digital are easier to take and to keep track of, but they're a pain in the ass to print. Digital. When was the last time you felt inferior? every day. Always. Do you bump into things often? yeah. can't tell you how many times i've broken the same damn toe. That toe is still fucked up. But yeah since I’m in pain all the time and had to completely change the way I walk, my equilibrium is off and I run into shit even more now. When did you first start using the internet? um...when it first came out? My dad was one of those “gotta have it now” people when it came to computer stuff back in the day. So we pretty much had it from the start. I wasn’t really allowed to use it though so I had to sneak on when everybody else was sleeping. And then my mom would wake up in the middle of the night and catch me so I’d get grounded. Were you ever a member of the Scouts / Girl Guides / Something similar? i was a brownie for a year. it sucked. I stand by that statement. Although my troop leader’s daughter, who I absolutely hated at the time, actually turned out to be really cool. She lives in Texas now so I don’t see her but we talk on facebook quite a bit. We have a lot of similar interests. Do you prefer camping or staying in hotels? camping. I guess camping but only for like one night. I’d really rather just stay home and watch tv. Do you have any family traditions for certain holidays? Which? i mean we all kinda get together on christmas and thanksgiving but it's not really any different than just regular sunday night dinner. I hardly ever get to go home on holidays anymore because Dave works through them. Or I have to work. Because there is no such thing as Thanksgiving off when you work in retail. Do you prefer lip balm that tastes or smells of something?Or maybe neither? aquafina is amazing. but usually i prefer my good ol' trusty blistex. it works instantly. Still a Blistex girl. Ride or die. The white tube, not the green stick. What is something you think about yourself that nobody agrees with? i'm usually the first to put myself down, and not many people disagree when i point out my shortcomings. People will disagree with me when I’m disparaging myself but I highly doubt they mean it. What about something people think of you that you don't agree with? they say i don't look like i weigh 180lbs, because my boobs are so big...but i definitely see the weight in the rest of my body. I stopped asking what people thought a long time ago. Nobody can make me hate myself less. Do you enjoy flying? What's your (least) favourite part? i've never flown, and i don't want to, but i have a feeling dave's not gonna let me go much longer without flying somewhere. Still haven’t. He says we’re going to Disney but I’m gonna fight him on it as long as I can. I was like “you knew what you were getting into when you married me.” Of course I wouldn’t want to go to Disney even if we lived right down the road from it, but that’s just the main example that we always argue about. What colour are your eyes? Do you like them? hazel, and yes. Green, and yes. They’re one of the few things about me that I do like. Have you ever had braces? no. Nope. It’s looking more and more like I’m gonna need dentures before I’m 35. Name one of your hobbies: singing. Games on Pogo. How minty is your toothpaste? minty enough, i guess. Mildly so. I use Colgate Optic White. What design is on your calendar this year? i've had panda calendars for the last three years. I don’t use a calendar. I just take a picture of my work schedule when it comes out every week, and double check it a million times to make sure I go on the right days. Do you collect anything? What? zippos, blankets, fossils, perfume, pandas...lots of things. Now mostly just blankets. And notebooks/journals that I never write in. Do you keep a diary? What sort of things do you write in it? i've been keeping journals since i was nine. I don’t have the energy to keep up with one anymore. Are you prone to headaches? not really. but i've been getting them more frequently lately. Apparently so, because I get them all the time now. Do you enjoy clowns / street performers or are they creepy to you? creepy. but it's not because they're clowns or anything...it's just that i don't like people. Same. What is your favourite type of video game? old school - my atari is as good as it gets. atari bowling and donkey kong FTW RPGs. The only games I play anymore are WoW and Skyrim. Sometimes Left4Dead but obvs that’s not an RPG. Do you believe everything you hear or do you take it with a pinch of salt? i don't believe ANYthing. I question everything. In the words of Anton Szander LaVey, “It has been said, 'the truth will make men free.' The truth alone has never made anyone free. It is only doubt which will bring mental emancipation.” What's the weather like where you live? (All year round, not today) cold 9 months of the year, unbearably hot the other three. Hmm...well fall and winter are bipolar as fuck. I mean it was almost 80 degrees yesterday and it’s supposed to snow tomorrow. Summer is disgustingly hot and spring seems to be nothing but rain. Have you ever had a teacher who would just babble about nothing? most of them. My favorite was Mrs. Longnecker. She was crazy as hell but I did love sophomore English. Do you ever look at a word and think that it looks odd? yes. All the time. I know there’s a name for that but I can’t think of it right now. Like when you write a word so many times that it starts to look like you’re spelling it wrong. Do you prefer getting news online, from a paper or from the TV? i'm sick of news. but i get most of it from the corral, oddly enough. I prefer not getting news because it’s all a bunch of bullshit and I pretty much only care about myself anyway. The shoes you wear most often: What do they look like? vans, they're blue and very old. like i've had them for...seven years i believe. I still have and occasionally wear those Vans. But mostly now I wear my knockoff Skechers slip-ons from Walmart and my Nikes, which are navy blue and lime green. Also very old, falling apart, and quite painful.   When was the last time you climbed a tree? never. Why on earth would I climb a tree? I can’t even walk up the stairs. Did you enjoy playing Hop Scotch when you were younger? no. i didn't play much of anything when i was younger. I’ve never played hopscotch. We were Matball all the way. And if you don’t know what Matball is then GTFO. Are you good at keeping your house clean? clean. not anal-retentive like my mother. Not even remotely. I only “clean” the day before Dave comes home from his work rotations. And even then I just do enough to make it look like I haven’t been living in a dump for three weeks. Can you play any instruments? many. Guitar, piano, xylophone, pretty much all other percussion except an actual drum set, clarinet. I have a trumpet but haven’t practiced at all. It’s hard to teach yourself a brass instrument when you share a wall with your 70 year old neighbor. And I did have a killer rainstick part senior year when we did Pirates of the Caribbean. Do you prefer chocolate or fruity flavoured candy? i don't really like candy too much. but hot tamales are my favorite, and they're knock you on your ass cinnamon. neither chocolate nor fruity. Fruity. But obviously I’ll take chocolate if you’ll give it to me. Fuck, I just remembered I have a mini Crunch bar in my jacket. My favorite candy now is Sweet Tarts Ropes, formerly known as Kazoozles. I love anything sour. Ooh and vanilla Tootsie Rolls. Well all Tootsie Rolls but vanilla are the best. Now I’m hungry. I need to go to Sheetz.