#my first car was passed from cousin to cousin and it was a piece of shit

[rebrandedbard]

I GOT A NEW TRUCK! And this is the first thing I put inside.

[hoe4sports]

The little ragdoll

Alessia Russo x Leah Williamson x child

A note from the author: Once again, another fic based off my life. This is a part of a potential series called “Musli”. Enjoy!

Warning: Fostercare, anxiety, long fic

Summary: You are moved into yet another foster home, and you spend your first 12 hours with Alessia and Leah. Oh, and their little companion.

-

You sit in the social worker’s car while she talks about your new home. She says that this home is a good home, but she said that too about the Johnson family and the Sussex family. You shrug your shoulders as a respons before gripping the ear of your plush cat tighter. The kitty is white, or he used to be white until your last foster father spilled his coffee all over him. You tried to rinse him in the sink, but your foster sister got upset with you. He is patchy brown now, and he smells of coffee. You don’t even like coffee. But he is the last piece of home you have left; your parents had no family. No grandparents and no siblings or cousins. Just you.

The houses are passing by your window, and you see the car moving from lower class areas to middle class areas to upper class areas and back to lower class areas. All your bad experiences are sadly linked with lower class families. The families where money is tight is statistically speaking where abuse is more likely to happen. The big raindrops rolls down the windows and you watch two raindrops to see who is faster. The answer is none of them; because a big truck splashes the window and vanishes the raindrops.

“The new family is excited to welcome you. They don’t have any kids, but they do have a friend for you”

“A friend? Like a chicken?”

You feel excited. You like chickens, they are friendly and they don’t bite.

“No silly, a kitty!”

Your eyes widen at the thought of living in the same house as a cat. You used to have a cat, back in your real home and the memory of him makes you miss him every day. You loved your cat. You love your plush cat. It sparks a tiny excitement in you, but then again you worry if you are allowed to touch the cat. Sometimes, foster kids aren’t allowed to touch certain toys, animals or even parts of the house. Tears forms in your eyes of the thought of him, and you clutch your hand tighter around the plastic bag of personal items that you own. It’s weird, you decide. You used to have puzzles that mommy would puzzle with you, and books that daddy would read to you. You used to have Barbie and dolls. And mommy would buy you so many dresses. You don’t have any dresses anymore. No puzzles. No books. No Barbie and no dolls. It’s only you, your teddy and a few pairs of pants and shirts. It used to make you feel sad, but you are just thankful for getting out of the last foster home.

The car suddenly comes to a stop in front of a big white house. It is a fancy house made out of wood and you can see what looks like handrails on the top of the house. There seems to be a garden, and there is a nice front porch with flowers on it. You blink as you look towards the door. It has a cat door. It resembles your real home. Where your mom planted flowers in the garden and your dad would cut the grass. It was only last summer, but it feels like a lifetime ago. The sudden onset of dejavu makes you smile. But then, you suddenly don’t want to leave the car. You don’t feel ready to disappoint yet another family. Perhaps, this family have more rules than draw others. There are always so many rules. Rules about what you are allowed to eat to what soaps you can use. So you let go of the plastic bag and clutch your fists to the seatbelt. The social worker opens up your door, and you shake your head. She tries to grab your hand, but you refuse. You really do not want to come out of the car.

She gives you a sad smile.

“Okay, how about you sit here and I’ll go get your new fosters?”

You shake your head rapidly and your little heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest. You feel warm, and sweaty, and stressed, and scared.

“I cannot let you sit in the car forever, I’m really sorry. I’m gonna have to lift you out of the car now.”

You close your eyes while your hand unbuckles your belt. The last family made you buckle and unbuckle yourself, so you are no stranger to helping yourself. You unwillingly hop out of the car and hold your kitty tight to your chest. The plastic bag comes along, but it’s too heavy to carry so it ends up dragging behind you. The social worker would grab it, if you would’ve let her; you don’t trust anyone with your things anymore. One family threw away your favourite dress and another lost the last picture you had of your mom and dad.

You find yourself In front of the big front door when the social worker presses the doorbell. It’s late, close to bedtime and the rain is pouring down. You yawn. The door swings open after a few seconds and you get caught off guard. You drop your plastic bag and hide behind the social workers leg.

“Hi! Welcome, please, please come in!” A blonde woman says. You peek at her from behind the social workers leg while trying to decide what category to put her in. She has kind eyes, like your mommy and she is smiling. Your social worker steps forwards which leaves you stumbling a few steps forwards. The embarrassment shows up on your face, but before you say anything; you see the woman reaching for your plastic bag. You know the drill, so you quickly snatch it from the ground before slowly moving yourself to the inside of the home.

You scan the entrance. There is a white built in bench with shoes underneath. You see a coat rack and there is some decor. There is even curtains and blinds on the windows that faces the entrance. It smells like warm cookies and milk, like your mother would make when you were little. Then, you see the other woman. She looks stricter than the first woman. She’s not that smiley, but she dosent look mean. A piece of her hair hangs in front of her eye before she quickly brushes it to the back of her ear.

“Y/N, that is Leah and this is Alessia. Say hi to them, please.”

You can’t say a word. Like all the words and letters of the English alphabet have left your mind. You shake your head rapidly. All the bones in your body freezes and your tears starts pressing in your eyes. You don’t know what to say or how to say anything. You don’t wanna sound dumb, and you don’t wanna sound sassy. The social worker looks down at you and sighs.

“Thank you for taking her in at a short notice. Things weren’t exactly good, and I had to move her quickly. She’s a good kid.”

One of the women squats down to your height.

“Hi, I’m Alessia. Who is this?” she asks. She points to your kitty, but she dosent touch him. You clutch him to your chest, and a silent tear rolls down your cheek. You feel terrified, maybe you aren’t allowed to have him?

“Uh..His name is Meow” you mumble, barely giving her a second of eye contact. Even though you don’t look at her, she looks at you. She waits and she seems to be patient.

“Im happy that you and Meow came to stat with us. We are happy to have you stay here for a while”

You feel scared. A while. How long is a while? It’s one of those adult’s acronyms that you don’t understand. Maybe, if you are good; they will let you stay for more than a while. You decided that you need to be polite, and kind, and helpful. You offer Alessia eye contact, and she smiles warmly at you.

“Oh look, there is someone else excited to see you” Alessia says as their white cat appears. He has white and brown fur, and he has blue eyes. He looks exactly like your old cat. The cat that used to live with you and mommy and daddy. Your eyes widen at the sight of him, and the cat trots its way over to you.

You reach out your hand, like you mother taught you. He sniffs it before instantly bonking his head into your had. Then, her purrs loudly.

“His name is Musli, he is a ragdoll, and he is 4 years old: just like you.”

“Musli” you parrot quietly while looking at the cat. You decide that you like musli and for a second, you feel calm.

“Alright, Y/N, I have to go now. Be good, okay? I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

She pats your head.

“Thank you once again Mrs. Russo and Mrs. Williamson. Call me if any issues or concerns.”

And with that, you are left alone. You, your kitty and your plastic bag is left to yourself. Tears swell in your eyes, and Musli rapidly rubs himself on you. You look down at him, and a teardrop lands in his fur.

“Y/N?”

You look up and you gulp. Time to be good. You nod your head while wiping your eyes on your sleeves.

“We were about to go into the kitchen to have some cookies, do you like cookies?” Leah asks while looking at you.

You nod again as your stomach rumbles. The last time you had something to eat was this morning, when you had a few pieces of carrots.

“Let’s bring meow to the kitchen with us, so he can have a treat too”

Alessia winks, and it makes you smile shyly. You follow the two women to the kitchen; meow in your right hand and the plastic bag dragging behind from your left hand. The bag leaves a stream of water from underneath it, and it makes you feel embarrassed.

“This is where I sit, and this is where Leah sit.”

Alessia points to a table with four chairs. You nod while scanning the kitchen. It’s big, and white. It’s pretty, and there is a gigantic fridge with a tap in the door. You shove your bag next to the wall, careful to not leave it out for anyone to trip on. That way, nobody will get mad at you.

Leah drags out a chair, it’s pink and it has a little step, a little place for your feet and a seat. It’s a children’s chair and you feel confused. Did they have a kid that you don’t know about? It scares you, because that means that there will be a competition and normally, you lose them.

You stand there dumbfounded while Alessia gets the out the plates. Leah gets out the glasses. They are high up, in the cabinets over the kitchen sink. It makes you sad because that means that you can’t help out with the plates.

Soon, everything is set and you are still frozen in the middle of the room.

“Come here, Y/N” Leah says before patting the pink chair. You slowly walk over to her before looking at it.

“Whose chair is that?” You whisper.

“It’s yours, you can use it for however long you want” Alessia says while smiling at you.

You climb up carefully, and you place meow next to you. Alessia puts forward a little bowl of milk, which leaves you confused. Are you supposed to drink out of the bowl? You don’t mind, really, all you want to is to be good. Your hands grab the bowl and you lean forward to drink the milk.

“For meow” Alessia says, and it makes you feel embarrassed. Leah quickly fills up your glass while Alessia puts the bowl infront of your plate. She pats the table, and you put meow infront of it.

“See? He likes it” Alessia says which makes you smile. Then you eat your warm cookie quietly. Alessia tells you about her day, and Leah answers. You just nod along, busy eating your cookie. This feels nice, you think. They seem kind. But you worry that they will be extra mean once you make them angry for being disrespectful, bad or dumb.

After finishing the cookie and drinking the milk, Leah clears the table.

“Thank you Mrs. Russo and Mrs. Williamson” you mumble, scared to say their names wrong. The pair of them shares a sad look before looking towards you.

“Please love, Call us Alessia and Leah. We aren’t your mom or your dad, but we are here to take care of you”

You nod.

“Should we find the bedroom?”

You nod, again.

-

“This is the bed. I didn’t know what colors you like, so I grabbed what we had. We can go out tomorrow to get you a few things. Where is your bag?”

Alessia says. You lift your bag up, and Leah reaches for it.

“Can I help you put your clothes away in the dresser?”

You nod.

“Thank you, Mrs. Leah”

The pair of them frowns, and you don’t understand why. Then Leah takes your clothes out; one by one until they are all taken out. The clothes are all wet from being dragged on the ground, and the pair of them shares a sad smile.

“Im gonna have to wash your clothes, they are all wet and dirty. Is that okay? Then tomorrow, we will get some more clothes” Alessia says while looking at the small pile of clothes.

You nod, but feel confused. Who are we getting clothes for, you wonder. Perhaps they need you to help carry the bags home. You are either way grateful for getting to come along instead of being left home by yourself.

You let out a big yawn, and drop meow in the action. Alessia instantly picks him up and reach him towards you.

“I think that maybe mr.meow needs a bath? Do you want to grab your toothbrush, hairbrush and pj so you can both get ready for bed?”

You look at her in confusion. You don’t own a hairbrush or a toothbrush anymore. It makes you feel dirty and uncomfortable, so you look down at your socks.

“Mrs. Alessia.. I…uh.. I don’t have a toothbrush or a hairbrush” you stutter out. You don’t see it, but Alessia and Leah shares a heartbroken look.

“Okay little miss, you can call me just Alessia and her just Leah. Whatever you want to, ok?”

You nod.

“We will put down toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrushes, hair ties, hair bands and knot spray on the list for tomorrow. Do you have a pj?”

You shake your head.

“That’s fine, Leah will find something for you to wear. Let’s go to the bathroom to get mr.meow cleaned up”

You smile at Alessia while nodding.

“Okay” you mumble out just loud enough for Alessia to hear.

-

Mr.Meow sits in the bathroom sink in a bubble bath. His whiskers are pointing downwards because of the weight of the water. Musli sits next to your feet, and you find yourself feeling safer around him. Your mommy would always say that a cat knows a good person; so if you ever needed to know how to categorise someone; see if a cat likes them. The memory makes you smile. Alessia hands you a tiny brush and smiles.

“Do you want to give him a little scrub?”

You smile and nod rapidly. Then, you get to scrubbing. You scrub, and scrub and scrub. Then Alessia scrubs, and scrubs and scrubs. Everything from his tail to his ears and paws. Soon enough, meow is white again and he goes into the dryer for a few minutes until he is dried enough for you to cuddle him.

Leah steps into the room while you are hugging him tightly with Alessia sitting on the toilet lid.

“Here, I have a little cousin that is the same age as you. She said that you could have this!”

Leah pulls out a pink pj. It’s a set with flowers on the pants and a princess on the front of it. It makes you light up. You nod your head before crashing into Leah’s legs in excitement. Leah looks surprised for a few seconds until Alessia nudges her to have her put her hand on your head. It feels safe.

“Thank you, Leah”

-

After washing meow, brushing your hair with Alessia’s brush and putting on the new pj; Alessia and Leah put you to bed. Or, rather they followed you to your bed while you put yourself to sleep. They turned on the little nightlamp on the nightstand before they said their goodnights. You found yourself laying in bed listening to the sounds of the house, much like you did at the old foster homes. Always waiting for someone to be disappointed with you.

The bed is soft just like your bed back at home. Not your old temporary home, but your old real home. The home you were born into. Where you took your first steps. Where you learned to put the cereal in the bowl before the milk. Where you learned to say please and thank you.

The bedroom is big. It has been painted a calm pink color, and there is a bookshelf with a few books. A few of the books are books you recognise, like the pink glittery one with Pappa pink. There is some toys and what you seem to recognise as Lego. You are not sure if you are even allowed to use the toys, but you appreciate being able to look at them. You don’t really know who they belong to because you arrived so late that you couldn’t think of asking. Your hand presses down on the mattress you have found yourself laying down on. It’s soft, and it’s comforting in a weird way. It feels like what used to be home. Before mom and dad and you took the trip to the local beach. Before one drunk driver changed your life forever. Before your life become something that you couldn’t even recognise anymore,

But the bed isn’t like home. It’s probably the most comfortable bed you have ever had, you decide. Even nicer than the one you once had. The frame is white with butterflies. The pillows are fluffy and the duvet is warm. You like the print too, it is pink with little purple flowers. Even though your new foster parents have spent a ton of money and effort on making this bedroom feel cosy, you end up sleeping on the ground. Not directly on the ground, but on the big thick fluffy rug in the middle of the room. It’s pink too, so you decide that it is perfect to sleep on. This way, you won’t get too comfortable in Leah and Alessia’s home. If you get too comfortable, then it will hurt even worse when they decide to kick you out. That’s why your hands softly pull the duvet and one pillow down to the floor, before laying down on it and wrapping yourself in the duvet. It feels strangely safe to be in this bedroom, in your temporary house. The feeling is new, and you are not sure whenever to regress the feeling or embrace it. You close your eyes slowly, listening to the soft hum of your two new foster moms chatter soothingly downstairs. It leaves you feeling like you are in a state of bliss that allows all the cells in your body to, for once, relax completely. It feels like you are floating, like you are at peace. Meow is in your hand, and musli comes to lay down next to you. He purrs, sending vibrations through your heart making it feel calm. Soon enough, you see your mom and you feel yourself drifting away.

-

The next morning, you wake up terrified. Did you oversleep? Why don’t your foster moms wake you up? You feel anxious. Perhaps you were supposed to wake yourself up? Irresponsible. That would already be one shot. You only get three. That’s what the other fosterfamily told you. Three shots and you are out.

You are only four, so it isn’t expected of you to wake yourself up. But you don’t know that. You drag yourself out of bed, and then it hits you: oh god. You fell asleep on the ground, but you woke up in the bed. Was it wrong of you to sleep on the floor? Did Leah or Alessia put you in bed? Maybe they are upset with you? It scares you to the point where you feel yourself shiver like a chihuahua.

You stumble out of bed before making a silenced run to the door. You shuffle down the hallway until you see the staircase and you peek out from behind the handrails. It smells like coffee, and pancakes. You find a place to sit in the staircase where you can look into the kitchen, but still be partially hidden by the shadows of the dark hallway.

Leah and Alessia is in the kitchen. Leah is reading something from her phone out loud and Alessia is listening while making pancakes. You can see orange juice on the table as well as jam, cheese and milk. Leah has a cup of coffee with milk in it. It’s light brown, and you recognise it because your old foster mother would tell you to put milk in her coffee for her.

You can feel the hunger growing in your gut, and you hold meow close to you while closing your eyes hoping that it will disappear. Then, Musli hopes downstairs. He sniffs your arm before meowing at you. You quietly try to shush him, but it doesn’t help.

“Y/N? There is breakfast for you in here love”

Leah says while smiling at you from the kitchen. You look back at her with wide eyes. Musli is still rubbing himself on your shoulder, and you force yourself to stand up. You quickly go to the kitchen, not wanting your new moms to wait. Waiting isn’t a good thing, especially when they are waiting on you. It can cause them to be upset with you. You don’t want that.

You hop up on the chair you sat in last night, and your eyes widen when Alessia places a pink princess plate infront of you with a few pancakes on. Are all of these for you? You feel confused. She hands you a fork, not an adult fork. A tiny fork with a bunny engraved into it.

Alessia sits down, and you look at her. She is now eating, and you look over at Leah who is pouring herself juice. You feel conflicted; if you ask if it is for you then they might take it away because you seem ungrateful. But if you don’t ask, then they can get upset with you for eating everyone’s breakfast.

“Uh, Alessia? Can I eat this?”

“Huh? Are you allergic?”

“What’s allergic?”

They both share a sad look, but to you; it looks like disappointment.

“It’s for you baby, just eat however much you want”

You look at Alessia and Leah. Sceptical, yet grateful. You nod before you start eating. Then you realise that you might need to eat everything; because you don’t know if you are gonna get another meal today. It feels strange to sit here with two adults eating pancakes. Musli is sleeping by your chair. It almost feels like a dream. Like something that is taken out of a movie. But it’s a movie that you don’t want to end. That’s the thing about movies; they always have an end.

[tatoda]

Guitar Pick 2 || college!conrad x fem reader

masterlist

request

part 1

summary: conrad brings you to cousins, everyone knows about your relationship except belly, who has a huge crush on conrad

pairing: college!conrad x fem!reader

warnings: angst, ends with fluff, jealous belly, steven being a good best friend

wc: 2.2k

here’s part 2 :)i changed it up from the request! i hope y’all enjoy im writing some more pieces for y’all !! i ended up not putting smut i hope you understand.

It’s been almost 10 months with conrad. After he asked you out at college, you both instantly hit it off. You learned all about his life and how he grew up in a home with his mom having cancer and her passing away last year and his dad cheating on her. But soon enough after he was a quiet guy he thought it was time to start opening up. He learned about your family and how they always didn’t believe in you so you proved them wrong. He has never been happier.

You met steven and jeremiah one night they came to visit you and conrad. And you instantly hit it off with them, especially steven. He became one of your closest friends when you hung out with him, conrad, and jeremiah. It was a fully platonic friendship. He was there for you and you were there for him. Conrad enjoyed that you got along with them so well. You 4 hung out as much as possible and they loved you and were happy conrad finally found someone that made him happy.

Conrad invited you to his beach house for the first time. He always talked about it and offered for you to come, but you didn’t wanna intrude. You finally said yes to visiting, one problem. Isabel, or as he calls her Belly, had a huge crush on conrad. Since they were kids. He never liked her back, never thought of her that way, but everyone knew that she was in love with him. And here he was bringing you to the one place she was at. One condition, conrad and you both decided to act as friends at cousins so he could break the news easily to her. So your mission was to act as just friends as possible.

“sorry about the whole belly situation.” conrad’s hand rested on your thigh his fingers tapping against your skin

“no, no. it’s okay i understand, you don’t want to hurt her.” you turned your head and smiled at him

“i promise i’ll tell her.” that was the last thing he said before pulling into the driveway behind steven’s car

You didn’t know what to expect. You felt as if he grew up with her his whole life that there had to be some sort of feelings he felt for her. To be honest you didn’t know what to think

When you both got to the front door of the house he looked back at you once more before entering. This was gonna be something for sure.

“hello!” conrad yelled throughout the house

“connie” laurel— who you have seen in pictures— walks around the corner from the kitchen and pulls him into a hug before turning to you “and you must be y/n! i’m so glad conrad found a friend at Brown.” she smiled at you “he keeps to himself too much.”

“laurel.” he let out a warning tone before footsteps from upstairs banged against the floor

“y/n!” steven yelled and ran down the stairs pulling you into a hug and then resting his arm over your shoulder “mom this is who i was telling you about.” it then hit her who you really were

“oh my you’re conrad’s-“ she was cut off by belly coming around the corner

“hey conrad.” she was pretty, so much prettier in person. it made you insecure to see how perfect she was and you weren’t, he looked like he belonged with her. steven felt you shift under his arm

“i’ll show you the guest bedroom.” you didn’t say anything but followed him upstairs and saw belly get on her tippy toes to hug your boyfriend

“is that y/n?” belly questioned stepping back and you lost sight of them only hearing them now

“yeah, yeah. steven and jere thought it was a good idea to invite her because she’s been really good friends with us.

“are she and steven a thing?” you looked at steven and he almost burst out laughing but put a hand over his mouth

“fuck no,” he responded laughing and you entered the guest bedroom

“i’m sorry about him,” he admitted as you put your stuff on the bed

“it’s for the best, i guess.” you softly smiled at him “i might just take a nap until dinner, it was a long drive.”

“are you sure? we were going to go surfing?”

“no i’ll just sleep.” he nodded before leaving the room and your insecurities and sadness stayed with you

Conrad checked on you before going surfing to see you sleeping and he didn’t want to bother you. So here he was sitting on his surfboard with jere and steven.

“was she okay?” he questioned

“you’re seriously asking that?” steven laughed

“man, you know she’s not okay. i know that and i haven’t even seen her.” jeremiah splashed water around and conrad looked down at a bracelet you made him on your 3 month anniversary

“dude how would you feel, put it into perspective. if she told you, you had to act as her friend around someone who was her childhood— put that in your head— a childhood friend who was a guy and had a crush on her and she told you just to be friends around him. how would you feel?” steven looked at him as conrad messed with the bracelet before looking up at his best friend

“i’m so shitty.”

“glad that got into your small brain.” steven scoffed. “she’s the best thing that’s happened to you since your mom's death, she has made all of us happy but you especially. don’t lose that con. because what i saw in the guest bedroom was an insecure girl scared her boyfriend was going to leave her.”

You walked downstairs softly hoping belly wasn’t down there. You didn’t know if you could handle trying to act in front of her. Walking into the kitchen Laurel was measuring stuff for dinner. She looked up and smiled

“hi, y/n. the boys are surfing you’re welcome to stay and help me or watch tv. whatever you want.”

“I’d love to help you if that's okay?” laurel seemed surprised no one has ever helped her with dinner

“i’d love that. could you chop the lettuce?” she pointed to it on the cutting board

“of course, let me wash my hands.” you washed your hands and sat down at the bar starting to cut the lettuce

“don’t worry, belly went out to meet up with some girls from last year's deb ball to the boardwalk, she shouldn’t be back for the next few hours.” laurel looked down at her phone, “life 360 says she’s there right now, you can relax.” your shoulders slumped down

“i’m sorry laurel, i just don’t know what to do. belly is in love with him and it’s just a lot.”

“steven told me that he’s making you act as friends?” you nodded

“i just agreed with him, i didn’t want to upset him. and i always wanted to visit here, he told me many stories of your families and susannah.” sadness reached her eyes when you said that name

“i’m glad you came. she would love you.” she moved some ingredients to the side leaning against the counter, “steven told me about you, i just didn’t know you were you when you walked in. he told me how he has never seen conrad like this before, the smiling and the happiness. his mom's death really affected him, it affected all of us but he had the worst.”

“yeah, he’s really great. i can see when his shield is up, the car ride here he was nervous. he doesn’t wanna hurt belly.”

“she will get over it, her and jeremiah are meant for each other. susannah has known from the start.” the back door opened and the guys walked in with towels, conrad looked amazing and you always melted when he didn’t have a shirt on “hey boys, dinner will be ready in like 2 hours, belly’s out with friends.” she said that last part looking at conrad and you turned to continue chopping the lettuce

“thanks, mom, love you!” steven yelled walking up the stairs and jere followed which left one body lingering

“i’m going to go grab something from my bedroom.” laurel made an escape. conrad leaned down into you and kissed your head, which he knew you loved

“just one night, okay baby?” you looked up and him and nodded “i’m really sorry.” the heat of his breath fanned your face

“is okay,” you whispered leaning up to kiss him and he grabbed the side of your face kissing you deeper before moving his head back

“i’m gonna tell her tonight, okay?” laurel came back down the stairs winking at you

“conrad go get ready for dinner.”

“yes ma’am.” he kissed you once more and took off upstairs

Dinner went okay. There wasn’t much talking going around the table. You sat next to conrad and belly was across from him. When you looked down at your plate you could feel her eyes on you and then on conrad. Steven talked most of dinner about his new job at the county club which everyone listened.

“so y/n, you have a boyfriend back home?” belly’s question made your head pop up and you put your fork down nervously

“um, no. really not much time for that stuff with class happening.” you shifted and conrad moved his hand to rest on your thigh

“well it seems you have enough time to hang out with three guys,” she said back

“belly.” laurel said making belly sit back

“no, no. she’s right.” you smiled at the girl “my last relationship was rough, so i took a break from dating. he wasn’t the best and ruined a lot of things for me.” you truthfully said and conrad’s hand rubbed you softly knowing your past relationship

“oh, well i’m sorry.” belly looked around the table at everyone looking at her

“y/n actually plays almost every instrument!” steven put his glass down he took a sip of trying to change the subject

Dinner didn’t go on long after that. Everyone helped clean up everything and put things up before dessert. You were in the guest bedroom grabbing a sweatshirt and the door opened slightly as you see your boyfriend step through the door and walked towards you

“hey,” he stood in front of you and put his hands on your arms “you okay?” you nodded but didn’t say anything “it’s going to be okay.” he brought you closer and wrapped his arms around you kissing your forehead “look at me.” you lifted your head looking into his eyes “i love you.”

“i love you too.” he leaned down and kissed you softly but that didn’t last when a gasp came from the doorway and both of your heads looked to see belly standing there

“belly-“ conrad started to say but she cut him off

“um, dessert is ready.” she then hurried off

“i-“ he looked from you to the door then dropped his hands and took off after her making your heart drop

Of course, he would choose her. She’s the one that grew up with him his whole life. The one he got the see grown into a beautiful girl, prettier than you. She had a crush on him and was in love with him. There was no point, you felt like you were just a distraction at college, waiting for her.

You didn’t see where they went, and you didn’t go to the table for dessert. You took a walk down to the beach and down the shore before sitting down hugging your legs to your chest. As some tears went down your cheek. You didn’t want to be a second option.

You sat there for about 30 minutes before a body sat down next to you. And you knew it wasn’t your boyfriend but your best friend.

“he’s looking for you.” steven didn’t the same sitting position as you “belly’s pissed but you’re nothing compared to her, y/n.” you shook your head

“he ran after her,” you muttered into your arms

“to tell her that you were dating and didn’t want to hurt her.”

“i don’t know steven.” you looked at him

“i’ve never seen him the way he is with you. he’s happy, y/n. he talks about you 24/7 we have to ask him to shut up.” you softy laughed “he loves you. we have never seen him love anyone like you. he constantly texts me to ask me about you so he doesn’t seem a bother to you. he constantly tells us about the story of you guys meeting at the guitar store because he thinks if he didn’t find you after, he would be lost in his life. i have not seen a smile on him since susannah died, you brought it back.” you smiled down at the sand and steven’s phone went off with his ringtone for conrad

“i’ll answer.” you gestured towards the phone and he handed it to you and you swiped to answer

“steven, did you find her? fuck i’ve been looking everywhere man.” his voice cracked and you knew he was on the verge of tears “i need to find her-“

“conrad.” you stopped him and he let out s breath of relief

“y/n, baby. i’m so sorry.”

“it’s okay.”

“no, it’s not. i’m sorry, okay? i told her everything and she’s mad but i don’t care. i needed to be honest.” you heard a door close on his end “you left your phone here, you scared me when i came back to tell you, you weren’t here.”

“i needed some air, steven found me, i’m safe.” you smiled at steven “conrad i love you okay?” he chuckled

“i love you more, now please come home so we can have dessert.” you laughed

“on my way handsome.”

[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - Family Reunion

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning(s): none!

—————————————

It was the first time I was taking Trevor home to meet the entirety of my family. So many people in one place. Rambunctious, loud, intimidating people.

Trevor would fit right in.

I knew that, but he wouldn’t listen. No matter how many times I told him, he never believed he would be fine.

We had to fly to the city nearest to my hometown. After bidding goodbye to his lizard and leaving the poor thing with his roommate. He begged to bring Drago at first, but I insisted it wasn’t happening. My father was not a fan of animals in his home. Anything other than a dog would not pass. I knew my mother would wrinkle her nose at the sight of a lizard too.

There were certain family members I was worried about Trevor meeting. One side of my family tended to be a little more judgmental than the other side. One side was full of fun and insanity. The other side was.. well they were fun too, but sometimes new people could throw off the dynamic.

I worried Trevor would do just that, but I also told myself it was a simple Fourth of July party. Nothing to fret over. A few days we would be home, and then we’d go back to Anaheim.

I got him started on the hour drive from the airport to my childhood home, thankful that my parents wouldn’t be there to see him as soon as we got there.

We utilized the time alone. I let Trevor roam around the house, and eventually I led him up to my old bedroom. He was concerned by the sight of a twin sized bed, but I told him we’d make do with the space we had.

He asked about all of my tiny trinkets and decorations, getting to know a part of my life he was never fully immersed in. Then my parents came home and we spent the evening in the living room. Catching up, telling stories, and laughing the night away.

By the morning, Trevor was up well before me. Not early by any means, but we’d been up late, so sleeping in felt necessary.

He shook me awake around ten a.m., and we laid together for close to an hour before we slipped out of bed to get ready.

“Do you think this is overkill?” I stepped out of my closet to peek at Trevor. His blue polo was matched with a pair of white shorts. He didn’t have any red on. Nothing looked too overdone or extra. His hair looked a little poofy, but I’d blame that on the shower he took before bed, and all the moving he does when he sleeps.

“Trevor, you look fine.” I assured before I stepped back into the closet. I gave my own outfit one last look before I stepped out to slip on my shoes. I was met with the sight of a very unconvinced looking boyfriend, and I let out a sigh the second I noticed his tension.

He looked great, honestly. A piece of me wanted to stay home and celebrate the Fourth of July in another way with him. His skin was such a pretty golden color, and his cheeks were slightly pink from the beginnings of a sunburn he got back in Anaheim. I reached out to grab one of his forearms while my other hand traced the tattoo he had on the opposite arm. Nike, a beautiful statue and a meaningful symbol in his life.

“My family is going to love you. Just be yourself, yeah? Maybe don’t curse as much.. but other than that, be yourself.” I teased softly. Trevor was slow to nod before a smile made its way to his lips.

“I can’t believe I’m meeting your whole family.”

I couldn’t believe it either. I couldn’t believe it up until the moment we were pulling into my grandmother’s driveway, parking off to the side, and climbing out of the car. Then my body was buzzing with electricity. I could already hear everybody inside. We were early, so it was only immediate family there.

I walked Trevor through the garage and into the foyer. My heart was beating a mile per minute. I’m sure his was too. His hand squeezed my own as the conversation slowed. I kicked my shoes off just in time to see my baby cousin come flying out from the living room.

The little guy shouted my name in excitement before he looked back at his parents to see if they heard him.

Soon my whole family was rushing into the foyer to greet.

“Holy shit.” Trevor mumbled as he stepped up behind me, his body pressed into my back.

The hugs and endless, “how are you’s” eventually died down enough for me to introduce Trevor. The moment of truth.

“This was that plus one I was telling you guys about.”

“I’m Trevor. It’s nice to meet you guys.”

He was accepted into the family almost immediately. After he was introduced and got to know my family, he blended. He was regarded as just another visitor after more people began to arrive. I lost him after a while, only to hear him in the kitchen where my grandmother was asking him to help her carry things out to the fire pit.

Nothing meant more to me than knowing Trevor got along with my grandmother, who was usually high strung and easy to stress out.

As more people came around, the party moved outside. Kids ran about while family caught up. Everybody made their rounds meeting Trevor. He communicated well with people, that I knew, since the day we met. But he communicated even better with my family.

“He’s real sweet, you know that?”

I looked away from him to see my grandmother peering down at me with a proud smile.

“Works hard too.” She added.

“Yeah.. I love him a lot.”

“I can tell just by the way he looks at you, that he loves you too.” She pointed a finger at me. “I was so worried when you left for California. I don’t really know what I was worried about now. I should have known you’d be bringing somebody home.“

“Thanks.. that means a lot.”

When I looked back, Trevor was gone. I heard a squeal from behind me, and when I turned in my lawn chair, I caught sight of Trevor playing wiffle ball with the kids. His shoes and socks were gone, kicked off to the side with a bunch of other tiny pairs. I couldn’t help but giggle at how he played with them. Chirping and smack talking, chasing them down and laughing all the while. That awkward breathy giggle laugh that was so contagious it had me chuckling in my seat.

Trevor and I agreed we weren’t ready for kids, but when we were.. I knew he would be a great dad.

I set my drink down and stood up, walking across the yard. I kicked my own shoes off and slipped my socks away.

“Can I join? Or is the game strictly for kids?” I called, and caught the attention of all the little eyes. As well as the big pair in the midst of all the fun.

“You have to be on the opposite team.” Trevor responded, heaving for air.

“You bat!” The little girl at home plate called. “Trevor throws too fast.” I walked over as she slipped the bat into my hand and ran off to the side, giggling excitedly.

“Are you playing unfair?” I asked accusingly. One didn’t have to be athletic to play wiffle ball. Hand eye coordination was all it took. And I’d been playing this since I was as old as the toddler standing on second base with his older brother.

“Me? No!” Trevor and I both assumed our stances as he responded. “But I’m not taking it easy on you.”

“Same here, Zegras.”

He pitched. I swung. The ball went flying. We weren’t far from the house, and I felt accomplished the second I heard the plastic ball whistle through the air and hit the wood siding of the old home. Trevor took off after it, I thought it funny to prance around the bases. Until I spotted Trevor running full speed ahead at me while I was in between third and home plate. One rule in family wiffle-ball. A rule as old as time. No home runs. If it was possible to get tagged out, you were going to get chased down.

“Trevor, no!” I screamed as laughter immediately fell from my lips. I picked up the speed, as did he.

He reached for me just as my feet touched home plate, one of them getting caught beneath it and managing to fall forward.

Trevor grabbed ahold of me, but he went down too.

I heard my team shouting in victory, and the rest of my family laughing and shouting as well, but I was too busy laughing along with Trevor. Our legs covered in grass stains, as were our elbows. Trevor carefully touched the ball to my side.

“You’re out.” He spoke.

“I am not! I crossed home plate!” I gave him a shove, and soon I felt a pair of tiny knees digging into my back, and a child drape herself right over my side. Another kid joined, and I groaned as he climbed on top of me as well.

“Man pile!” I heard a little boy yell, and I gasped when he jumped on top of Trevor.

Soon there was a whole lot of us laying in the grass and laughing. Trevor tried to push a few kids off, but they only returned. We accepted our fates until parents came by to help us out, pulling their kids aside and giving us some space.

“I definitely scored,” I mumbled as I pulled away from Trevor.

“Did not.” He reached out to brush the grass from my knees, ever the gentleman despite our argument.

“Did so!” I countered, soon feeling the tickle of his fingers against my sides. I broke into a fit of laughter.

“I won, fair and square!” Trevor pulled an old dandelion from the ground around us, shaking it in my face. I grimaced and tried to wipe the fuzzy seeds away.

“Damnit Trevor, quit that.” I groaned softly with a smile.

No wonder he got along with the kids so well.

I finally slipped away from him and stood up, brushing myself off while Trevor made a show of the ‘pain’ in his joints while he stood up. I rolled my eyes at him.

I heard a few kids shouting about s’mores when one of the adults brought the marshmallows out.

“Are we making s’mores too?” When I looked back at Trevor, his eyes were wide with excitement.

“Obviously, T. Though I’m not sure you need any more sugar.” I turned around, hearing him huff and feeling his hand slip into mine as I guided him back toward the fire. Kids were already gathered around the table, and I giggled before I slipped away from Trevor to make my way over.

“You guys have to be careful with all these pointy sticks, okay?” I instructed as I grabbed one of the bags of marshmallows and opened them. “Everyone tell me how many they want.”

It was a hot mess trying to figure out which kid yelled which number, but soon Trevor was at my side, helping me with the little ones.

“Be careful, and don’t run!” I called to the last child as he left to find his mother. I glanced up at Trevor before grabbing a one of the metal skewers.

“We have to send a picture to Jamie. He’ll be so jealous.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at how excited Trevor looked. The way his eyebrows moved with his mouth, and his eyes squinted when he was excited.

“Give me a marshmallow, Zegras.” I chided. He pulled two from his half empty bag and slipped them onto the stick. “I said one.”

“You won’t make one for me?” He pouted.

“Ugh.. god Z, you’re so needy.” I whipped my body around in a sluggish manner, whining playfully over his own pout. Trevor chuckled at me before his arms wrapped around my body.

“I know, I’m the worst.” He mumbled with a giggle. “I’m gonna put the rest of our stuff on a plate, then I’ll come find you.”

“Grab peanut butter cups!”

When he joined the rest of my family around the fire, we found ourselves seated in the grass. Trevor sat next to me while I roasted our marshmallows, the plate of Graham crackers and chocolate in his lap.

The kids quickly began to gather around us, plopping down left and right, mostly around Trevor, but a few with me as well.

“Trevor look what I have!” A kid held out her messy marshmallow. Her face was covered in evidence of the other three she ate before.

“I’m about to have one too.” Trevor giggled. “I’ll tell you guys how it tastes.”

“Oh auntie makes them the best!” Another little boy called. He practically lunged into Trevor’s lap, settling himself in the space where his legs were folded criss-crossed. I giggled at the surprise on Trevor‘s face.

When I looked back at the marshmallows, I realized they were beginning to melt off the skewer.

“Trev! Crackers!”

The kid seated in Trevor’s lap leaned back against his chest while Trevor helped me make the s’mores. I leaned the skewer up against the fire ring after, and we clinked our snacks before I allowed Trevor to take the first bite.

The look of pure bliss on his face was enough to boost my ego for a lifetime.

“Wow.” He spoke through a full mouth.

“That’s why I suggest the peanut butter cups instead of normal chocolate.” I quipped before I took a bite out of my own s’more.

“I want a bite!” The boy reached for Trevor’s snack, and I giggled when my boyfriend pulled it out of the kid’s reach.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll make you one.” I stretched an arm out to ruffle his hair. “Kelsey, can you go grab me another marshmallow?” I asked a little girl to my left. She smiled and quickly got up to go find the bag. I leaned into Trevor’s side while I waited.

The little boy in his lap aimlessly played with Trevor’s shoe strings, before looking up at the hockey player with a blank stare. Trevor was busy finishing the last bite of his s’more before he made eye contact with the kid.

“Hunter?” The little boy’s head perked up at the sound of his mother’s voice.

“Gotta go.” He mumbled as he climbed out of Trevor’s lap, with a bit of assistance.

“Bye, Buddy.” Trevor offered him a fist bump before the kid ran off to find his mother.

I stared my lover down with an incredulous smirk. When Trevor looked back at me, his brow rose quickly.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just love how good you are with kids. And my family.”

“Really?” He looked surprised. “God I was afraid they’d hate me.”

I laughed softly, wrapping an arm around his back. “They could never hate you. You’re the first guy I’ve dated who’s actually treated me nice.”

“Oh don’t tell me that.. that makes me sad.” One of his hands came down to rest on my thigh. I brought my free hand to rest on top of his.

“You’d have to kill me or burn my apartment down before they hated you.” I joked, earning a small laugh from him.

“I don’t think I’ll end up doing either of those things.”

“Eh who knows? You might manage to cause a small kitchen fire one day.”

“Hey!” He gently pushed me, and I giggled at his offense.

Our conversation settled into silence before I looked back up at him.

“How many kids do you want?”

“Huh?”

“Kids.. Trev. Do you want kids?”

I watched him contemplate my question.

“A few? Maybe like.. three? I grew up with two siblings. I feel like three kids balances out a house well. Ya know?”

I didn’t quite understand his logic, but if Trevor wanted three kids, I figured I could go along with that.

“What about two and a dog?” I suggested playfully.

“Oh, a dog like Louie?”

“Yeah, we can get a dog like Louie. I was thinking maybe something a little more protective though. A Great Dane?”

“What if it eats our kids?” Trevor’s question caused a quiet fit of laughter to fall from my lips.

“They’re very gentle dogs. Just territorial with strangers and intruders.” I explained.

“Well that’s what we have Jamie for.” Now we were both laughing.

“I’m not having three kids and Jamie.”

Trevor playfully gasped. “I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

“He’ll get over it.” I gently squeezed his hand.

“He’s gotta be the uncle to our kids. He’d better get over it.”

“What about Griffin?”

“Eh. Jamie’s closer.” I rolled my eyes and giggled softly, leaning back into Trevor’s side.

“I’m gonna tell Griffin you said that.” I mocked quietly.

“He’ll get over it.” He responded in time.

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[intheholler]

brought up in the rolling hills of greater appalachia, there were scarce times, there were good times, and there were rough times. just like anywhere else. but at all times there was hope and community, no matter the circumstance.

as many negative things as i hear about the place i live and as many experiences i have had that align with such criticisms, there were a thousand more instances where i was blessed with an enchanting, community enriched childhood. i will never forget or under-appreciate the closeness of neighbors despite our long lengths from one another.

what i mean to say is, appalachia, they could never make me hate you.

my Daddy is a pastor and my Mama the most down to earth pastor’s wife to walk this sweet, dark-soiled land we are so blessed to live on. even though my father and i don’t always get along, my mother and i are and will forever be the most kindred of spirits. through her wit, her will, and her wisdom, many traditions of appalachia have been passed down to me.

your porch ceiling best be haint blue, and you had better never close another person’s pocket knife. always gift a hand-quilted or crocheted blanket at every baby shower you ever attend. sprinkling salt at every doorway while squeaking out a hushed and hastened prayer for protection.

even those are just a few traditions that i can credit to my culture and my mother who instilled it in me. and that installation is so incredibly important. so as not to lose our rich, beautiful, and complex history.

the first rumblings, the soft spot

an important experience that i would argue helps many appalachian children to realize their culture and heritage is when they, for the first time, listen in to the kitchen talk among cousins. how Papaw can’t read so well because he never got to finish up school and why Uncle Rick got this new job manufacturing cars. how Meemaw lost her baby to scarlett fever and how Miss Deretta down the road worked at the children’s home where your cousin Thomas got dropped off in a cardboard box after a flood that demolished the apartments uptown. slowly, piece by piece, your young mind starts to understand the ebb and flow of unspoken community support. the gentle hand holding taking place through the entire mountain range. the interwoven families that aren’t any kin.

running interference

as you grow up, unfortunately, the world seeps in, slow and clever as a fox in the hen house. making your own out to be some sort of gnawing hillbilly that don’t know their ass from grass. and suddenly when someone asks where you’re from you’re ashamed to admit it. the only thing that you and friends talk about is getting out and seeing new places, away from the parents and the gossip pew of your respective churches. on friday night you all meet up in the Dollar General parking lot and carpool to your school’s football game so that you can shout wildly inappropriate cheers at the rival of the night from the student section. you run into Mrs Connor while washing your hands in the restrooms behind the stadium and when she tells you vibrant stories of your Pa in high school, skipping for deer hunting season along with half of the class of ‘68, you appreciate her. and you don’t know it, but every interaction like that, grows your mountain heart bigger, making more room for story after story.

one of my friends is now engaged to the man who was their starting quarterback. the two of them are the sweetest of couples. the world is perfectly small here.

weeks-long revival and a singing every night

after an innocent turned passionate kiss in your church crush’s car, you find space on the pew with the rest of your youth group, leaving room for jesus, of course. Aneoumes (an-nay-mus, unique name, i know) the church Dulcimer player brings out his fine jnstrument with Mrs Dorothy, the pianist and the previously mentioned Mrs Connor on the organ to do their own mesmerizing renditions of When the Roll is Called up Yonder, I’ll Fly Away, The Gloryland Way, Mansion Over the Hilltop, He Set me Free, Heaven’s Jubilee, and the baptist favorite, Amazing Grace making for a beautiful night of harmony among voices. anymore you weren’t sure what you believed (not that you dared to tell a soul, or even say it out loud) but you knew good and well that church brought people together and helped those in need, and both of those were things you could get on board with. of course the politics were messy, but you could mostly keep your lips sealed. your home church certainly did more to feed the hungry than the government officials who were supposedly all libbed up, or at least that is what they’d pushed.

suddenly, this place didn’t seem so bad. you were worn smack out but only because of the late company, which you certainly didn’t mind in exchange for a typical night of hot, early sleep. when you got home Todd Lee your neighbor was still cutting hay and so the putputput of his tractor lulled you off to sleep. he told you “it keeps the sugar in, seeing’s that it’s nice and cool out in the dark” he had told you when you let him know that his lively tractor sounds put you at peace every night.

something about this place felt more special, fonder, than what you had understood in your younger teen years.

the first leaving

your dad received a stimulus check during the pandemic and decided to go visit his aunt Barbara on the northeast coast. being away from home a whole week felt like a pig being gutted and packed, still warm in the patties. it was awful. every night you cried, holding your younger siblings who did the same, no one here smiled or talked to you and the rain didn’t smell right, the food was bland and blended all together in taste, worst of all there was nowhere to be that wasn’t covered in concrete and where there was, you had to pay for access. when the mountains finally came back into sight, your heart leaped and tears fell from your eyes. that moment was as close to divine intervention as you’d felt since your baptism. gratitude overwhelmed your senses and you thanked jesus for being born where you were. where people were friendly and food was good and friends were close and everything was wide open.

for a moment you wondered if when David wrote “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul.” if he too was experiencing the peace of returning home after a tumultuous time away.

the second leaving and the enthusiastic return

now, you’re headed off to college. it grips at your heart that you won’t be with the supportive community around you that you’ve always had. but this time the leaving makes sense. you’ll educate yourself on how to teach and help others, you’ll take extra, unnecessary classes on heritage and both cultural and natural history. upon your return you get to take all that hurt from being away and pour back into the place that has loved you so well. and you get to be the next generation to tell your own kiddos to keep the haints from their houses and their hands to the knives in their own pockets.

hopefully your loving will look a bit different, cast a wider net so that those kids who weren’t as lucky as you feel accepted in the community of people around them.

most importantly when you return with your degree and your license to teach, you can instill pride in those children, let them know that these lush hills and woods and creeks and mountains they call home really are some of the most wonderful places this world has to offer up. encourage them to believe that professional speaking is not removed from their dialect but rather in their clarity of conveyance. uplift the idea that time spent with family and friends, neighbors and strangers alike is to be valued. and most importantly in my book, teach them to appreciate the stories they are told, to remember them whether mentally or by doing some manual record keeping. our stories are our testaments to the fulfilling life that can be lived here. and the stories of our neighbor may have a great impact in our thinking.

what i’m trying to say is, appalachia, they could never make me hate you.

(i got totally carried away, sorry it’s so long)

.

[ahedderick]

Grandpa's chest

Sooooo, yesterday was the big chest-retrieval-from-Shunk-Pennsylvania day. My daughter and I set out at 11:30; she was riding along for moral support and navigation. She has a complicated phone and I do not.

Our first issue, just over the border in PA, was a 'Sunday' driver who was tootling along far under the speed limit. This trip was supposed to be 3.5 hours one way; I didn't want that to get even longer. However, even though it was a highway, it was too narrow to have a passing lane and too curvy to pass by pulling into the oncoming lane. We tootled. Anxiously. Then a shiny, bright yellow pickup pulled out in front, and slowed down. We were now 30 mph under the speed limit. Absolutely no safe way to pass. To my great relief, both vehicles pulled off onto a side road after a few miles, and I got the Subaru zoomies.

The rest of the trip north was uneventful traffic-wise. When we got off the highways and onto secondary roads just past Williamsport, the scenery was lovely. The temptation to just pull off and spend a while playing in the river* was intense! There were also downed trees leaning on the electric wires - not just one or two, but many! Yikes.

After a l-o-n-g stint on steep, winding backroads, we arrived at my late father's cousin's house, which is being cleaned out and sold off by her daughter, my second cousin. Got all that? Don't worry, not truly crucial info. The wooden chest that she was giving us had little caster wheels, ornate carving around the sides, some very interesting little drawers, and a flat top that really looked as if another piece was supposed to sit on top of it.

A neighbor helped us load it gently into the back of my car. He oriented it rightside up; it just barely fit. A little voice in the back of my brain was bothered by that, but I couldn't figure out why.

["This is wrong" "ok, why?" "Not telling you, just it's wrong!"]

As we started back down the gravel road, it because abundantly clear why. The flipping thing was sitting on its wheels - and rolling back and forth in the car at every turn and incline. We had to pull over, wrestle the thing out, then back in on its top. Sheesh.

There was no cell service, so K couldn't get the phone to give us directions back out, but we figured we could backtrack just by memory for a while, until the service kicked back in. That worked. Once she had directions again, we headed south. She was driving the return trip. "Uh-oh, my phone's at 20%"

I figured if the phone could get us as far as the main northeast/southwest highway, I'd be able to figure things out from there. And it almost did. It conked out when were were just a mile or two away from 220S. Unfortunately, so did my daughter. She was sick earlier in the week, and not quite recovered; after an hour of driving she got drowsy and I had to take back over.

Oop, I have a lot of party prep today, I'm going to have to come back to this later.

'* pretty sure this was Loyalsock creek. A puzzling name.

[baocean]

SPRINGSTEEN - JJ MAYBANK

First of my country songs series, listen to the song!!! (Give country a chance, I’m begging you)

Summary: Seventeen years old or twenty-seven, it didn’t matter, you still loved JJ Maybank.

Warnings: none!

Pairing: JJ Maybank x touron!reader JJ Maybank x kook!reader

It had been almost ten years since you last saw him. You could still remember like it was yesterday, though. You were freshly seventeen and were spending the summer on the Banks with your family.

The first time he saw you was when he was passing your beach house in the Twinkie, along with his other friends. John B called a hello out the window and JJ turned his head to watch you play with your little cousins in the front yard until he couldn’t see you anymore.

You were stuck in his head like a piece of bubblegum. Sort of like the one you were popping in your mouth when he first drove by. He memorized the way you looked, the way your white top made your tan skin shine, how your cut off jeans made his fingers tingle. The Ray-bands that were stuck in your messy hair, fresh from the ocean. You were wearing flip flops and still, JJ couldn’t get enough.

He made up stupid reasons to take the Twinkie, drive it across town and down your street, hoping to get another glance at you.

When he did, he pulled onto the side of the road. You were getting out of your car, an iced coffee in one hand and a bouquet of flowers from the supermarket in the other. He thought you looked like a dream.

“Are you new?” He called out the window, swallowing the nerves. He felt like he was talking to a celebrity. Something told him he wouldn’t be as nervous to talk to an actual celeb as he was calling out for you.

“I’m here for the summer. Who are you?” You replied.

“JJ. Would you go to a party with me tonight?”

“Are you going to murder me after, JJ?”

The cute blonde sticking his head out of the Volkswagen Touran was grinning ear to ear at your response. He shook his head, then you smiled, too. You shrugged your shoulders and agreed.

“I’ll pick you up at seven. You’ll be here?” He yelled, smacking his head against the door, it made a loud sound from the metal of his rings.

“I’ll be here. See you tonight.” You smiled and turned to walk up the stairs to the front door.

Fourteen days later, you were pretty sure you had fallen in love. For the first time, you were feeling something like you could jump off a cliff and no matter what or where, JJ would be at the bottom to catch you. Maybe you were just being a silly teenager, but you were certain that’s what love felt like.

JJ would take you to the old shipyard and find a container to sit on and watch the ships sail out onto the ocean or take you to his friend Kiara’s restaurant where you would sit and talk as a date until Mr. Carrera forced you guys out.

At the end of everyday, he’d take his sweet time driving you home, taking the far way around the island. He’d make you so late your parents would be angry every time you got home. You didn’t care, neither did he.

“Don’t go.” You whined one night. Sitting in the Twinkie, in your driveway. It was the third week of summer, it was a hot and sticky night, the ac was blowing your hair in a way that made JJ think you looked like an angel. He gave you a sickly, sweet smile that made you want him to kiss you. You had only known JJ for three weeks but when he kissed you, it felt like it had been years. He kissed you so sweet, he put his hand on your cheek and pulled you over to sit closer to him. It was the best kiss of your life.

At twenty-seven, you still thought about him like the last time you saw him was the day before. You wondered if now, at twenty-seven, JJ would think about you too when he would hear a song from Bruce Springsteen. That summer, at eighteen, JJ was obsessed with him and Snoop Dog, saying he wanted to smoke like Snoop and sing like Bruce. He certainly smoked enough to run with Snoop Dog but you used to laugh and cover your ears when he sung along to the radio.

You were back in the Banks, in the same house on the same street, almost ten years later. The same family you were with the last time were there, except your father. When he died six months ago, he made you promise to start a tradition of making good use out the the house he paid an expensive mortgage for. So there you were, with the same cousins you used to play with in the front yard, now the same age as you were the last time.

When you saw him, he was driving by in a beat up, black Jeep. You were unloading things from your white BMW, the one you had been dreaming of buying since you graduated college from Clemson. He hit the breaks so hard the hodgepodge of items on his passenger seat went flying. You dropped your bags back into the backseat.

You almost couldn’t believe it was him. He was so handsome, the same blonde hair and pretty blue eyes, just all grown up. He let his arm hang out the side of his car as you walked over. You caught sight of your name, tattooed into his wrist. It had faded since you last saw it. He had gotten it a few weeks before you left that summer. You could remember the god awful look your mother gave you when she saw your name, tattooed on the pogue boys wrist as he shook her hand for the first time. You also remembered you didn’t care what she thought, all you could think about is that when he got it, you were holding his hand and he was telling you how much he loved you.

“Is that you, JJ Maybank?” You wrapped your fingers around the door handle and pulled it open, not thinking about what you were doing. You had guessed you just wanted to see him, all of him.

He smiled and it’s like you were sent back into time, the first time he smiled at you, in the same driveway. He nodded, stepping out the car that was still running. JJ needed to see you too, without a stupid door in the way. He wanted to see what ten years did to you.

He grew taller. Even at seventeen when sleeping at the Chateau, he would complain about not being able to rest because of his growing pains. He used to pull you into his body and tell you to kiss it better.

JJ thought you were even more beautiful than you were at seventeen. At eighteen, he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. At twenty-eight, he knew you were the most beautiful woman there was.

That night, he took you out to The Wreck, where Mr. Carrera greeted you, telling you all about Kiara’s successes in Australia. ‘Born in the USA’ played over the speakers in the restaurant. JJ sang along to the lyrics.

“You haven’t gotten any better at singing.” You laughed over the Bruce Springsteen song.

“Yea, I quit smoking too. So there goes both my dreams.” He shook his head, looking up at you through his blonde hair.

“What’s your dream now?” You head your head in your hands, watching him think. His eyebrows furrowed anytime he thought hard about something. You learned that about him early on.

“Move out of my apartment, I’m barely there anyway. Get a nice house on the water and surf a ton. Open up my own surfboard company. Probably marry you, too.”

He took you by surprise. You found yourself thinking the same thing, though. Time didn’t seem to matter when it came to you and JJ.

That summer, you spent any free time with JJ. When he bought the small warehouse to start his business, you were there when he signed the lease. The first surfboard he made was for you. When you got sick as a dog for a week, he was there. You learned how good JJ was at making chicken noodle soup.

Three years later, on the other side of town, the nicer side of town, JJ and you walked along the beach. Your house was just a few hundred feet down. It was a dark blue, with a wrap around pouch and had a hammock you laid in when the sun was setting.

Your boyfriend’s business took off, he was shipping surfboards across the world daily, with lots of orders waiting for him. Your career in marketing was taking off well.

He proposed to you three years after twenty-seven. On the beach your dark blue house rested on. With a ring he saved up his entire life for.

At seventeen, you thought that summer would be the last time you saw JJ. At thirty, you wanted to laugh and tell her she was a silly teenager. You wanted to tell her that her cliff jumping love was real, and it lasted.

…….

[discotitsposts]

true genius-

my actual favorite episode ever ever ever I’m SO INSANE FOR THIS EPIDODE

this is like the first one o watched on my own ITS SO GOOD

reid centered so yayy

this is how i fell in love w him

spoilers ahead

YAYYYYY NOSTALGIA!!!!!!!

lol typical making out in a car

DID I MENTION THISBIS MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE EPISODE

FINN WITTROCK IS IN THIS TOO

the zodiac killer case is so interesting like wym dude never got caught

A FETISH FOR TREES

POOR BABY IS SO NERVOUS

ITS HIS BJRTBDAY IN THIS EP TOO

the cOUGHING

“yes a fetish for trees” HES SO AWKWARD I LOVE YOU REID

no he LEAVES NOOO

lol this guy runs a company

The way if reid was at a conference i’d run and be listening to every word

awww reid’s sad :(

rossi lol “no way” yes way

this is so interesting like how did bro get the original artifacts from the real case (i know how he did it)

reid reid reid!!!!

imagine if spencer knew how many people love him and write fanfic about him LMAO

he’d be a little terrified let’s be honest

but just a little

UGH EVERYONES SO HOT

“three can keep a secret if two are dead” i thought this was criminal minds not pretty little liars

i can’t even tell you how many times i’ve seen this episode

like this is MY episode i claim this one lol

CHESS YOUNKNOW WHO ELSE LIKES CHESS

SPENCER

bros playing chess on break

SPENCERRRRRR

lol enlightening

he wants the printed out version of the paper 💞💞

the way spencer just knew this wasn’t the real zodiac killer is why i was like this guys great 💞💞💞 my heart

AHHHHHHAHEJDJWBEWJWIROSOWBDBEKENFNF

IM SO EXCITED TI BE WATCHING THIS ONE

it’s so funny because i’ll be watching this show and this is my view

the barbie’s r like wtf

THIS GUY LYING ABOUT HIS COUISN

lol reid ended this guy

LOL

LUCKILY I GUESS ITS NOT YOUR COUSIN AHAHAH ATE

FINN WITTROCK💞💞

LOL his presentation

“your soulmate is standing before you now” is he talking about the lady or himself

i remember originally watching this because finn wittrock but fell for spencer/matthew instead lol

i like this detective from the local pd

“where do people find the time” lol reid

dr spencer reid i love your mind

“youre not as smart as you think you are” 😫😫😫💞💞💞SIR IM STUPID FOR YOU 💞💞💞

REID IN PURPLEEEEEE

OMG HES STANDING IN THE SUNLUGHT

y’all have to see this

UGHHHH💞🕳️🕳️🕳️💞💞💞

profile!!

REID AT THE COFFE SHOP STOEOEJDWH

dude has a detective board

lol he thinks she wants to call off the wedding

bro she doesn’t want you

REID NO YOUVE PASSED EXPECTSTIONS YOURE PERFECT I LOVE YOU

“How old are you 29,”

“I’m 30” NOOOOOOOOOOO

nikola tesla my beloved

emily lol

doesn’t he accidentally see a pattern lol dudes so smart

emily’s little smile lol

for he

god he’s so smart

the problem is i think i could understand the code and idk my iq but it’s prob not 160 or above

how do u even calculate that shit

reid’s face is perfect

the taxi driver, didn’t he kidnap the best friends wife from the back of the cab

i don’t think i made this very clear but this is my favorite episode EVER

i’m gonna fucking bite spencer if he keeps being so adorable

finn ain’t no angel in this

vegas!! matthew’s hometown

REID IN THE BACKGROUND

heTALKSK SO FAST I LOVENIT SM

mY leg itcjes

i also would like to catch the zodiac

REID ON THE FHAIR

staring at nothing

HAHAH

best friend activities

REIDS HANDS MOVE SO FAST

i need him now

aDmiT iT yOure HaVing FuUuN

i literally can’t get cozy

A CHESS SWUARE

listening to him💞 💋

no matches

doesn’t he plant a piece of evidence

yep

they found him

o love when reid comes up behind him

bro kidnapped his future wife

UEAH THEY KILLED SOMEONE OMG

it’s spencer reid’s world we’re just living in it

bro said “sanctimonious” wtf does that mean

“not really” 💞💞💞💞💞

the vest 😫😫💞💞

i don’t think harvey here is going to shanghai anymore he going to jail

SULPHURIC ACID dude that’s insane

LOL REID “i’m sure he’ll send you a postcard”

AWWW REID AND HIS COFFEE

THE BIRTHDAY PARTY

spencer reid you’ve made the biggest difference in my life 💘💘💘

AWWWWWW HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPENCER

lol morgan the way he’s in his 40s now😭

awww him blowing out the candles he looks so happy

the end

MY FAVORITE EPISODE MWAH MY BELOVED 💋💋💋💋

[pelorsdyke]

ronancetober - day twelve: spell [practical magic au, nancy wheeler as sally owens, robin buckley as state investigator gary hallett]

“Did you or your sister kill Jason Carver?” The state investigator asks Nancy, both hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket.

It’s stupid, but Nancy can’t help her instinctual deadpan reply. “Oh, yeah,” she says, leaning back against her kitchen counter. Distantly, she can hear Max and Mike taunting each other, the jingle of her aunt’s wind chimes as the pair race in and out of the porch door. “A couple of times.”

The investigator— Robin, she’d said her name was, insistent when Nancy defaulted to Detective Buckley instead— smirks. Nancy traces the line of her lips with her eyes.

“Nancy,” she begins, the word as hard-fought from the respectful detective as Robin’s own name had been from Nancy, “please. Tell me what you saw.”

“Jason Carver was a no-good shithead of a man, a bully and a bastard, and the worst kind of man, which is to say, one who put his hands on my sister. To be honest, Detective,” Nancy replies, pressing in on the word as she says it, watching Robin roll her eyes with barely constrained pleasure, “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass where he is now.”

It’s true, is the thing. When Nancy had first hit him— and she had been the first, the crunch of her car against his bones somehow a relief even as her mind had started racing through the implications of killing a man— a not exactly small part of her had thought about just leaving him where he was. A hit-and-run, maybe chalked up to his mob connections or violent behavior, letting Jason Carver rot in the woods. Better than he deserved, anyway. But Chrissy had insisted, fearful, that they needed to at least move the body, and once the two of them had hustled him in the car, it had seemed a little stupid to just… what? Bury the body in Joyce’s backyard? Hope no one dug the gardenias up too deeply next year? So they’d done something probably far stupider, if she was honest, and paged carefully through books Nancy had sworn off years ago to find a spell neither of them should’ve even considered casting.

And the second time, to be fair, he’d been a breath away from killing Chrissy. So Nancy had done it, in the end, had killed the man twice, the second time by shattering a pot over his head, and if she was honest, she’d kind of enjoyed it. Nancy didn’t intend to become a murderer, but she did revel some in getting to hand-deliver the comeuppance Carver had deserved, after what he’d put her sister through.

And then, yes, sure, they’d buried him in the garden. Fuck off, okay? Where else were they supposed to do it? Maybe one of their cousins had something resembling a better hiding spot for bodies by their mother’s house, but Nancy wasn’t about to start making calls to ask.

Robin mulls over Nancy’s words for a moment, and Nancy takes the time to observe the woman in front of her. Robin was tall but thin, most of her frame hidden away behind the bulk of her thick jacket and flannel, but where the sleeves were rolled up, Nancy caught a peek of muscled forearms. The detective was no desk jockey, certainly. She’d passed on the coffee Nancy had offered her on coming in, citing that it made her inexplicably sleepy, and had smiled fondly at Max and Mike when they’d scampered by, quietly letting on that they reminded her a bit of herself and her older brother. Nancy isn’t really sure why she’s so determined to hold onto every piece of information about Robin, but the woman is just so intriguing to her. There’s something about her presence at Nancy’s kitchen table, steady even as she thrums with energy, that Nancy can’t stop staring at.

It’s the moment when Robin opens her mouth, actually, that it clicks into place for Nancy. She’s saying something about how she’s certainly not about to deny Nancy’s assessment of the situation, not after chasing Carver across the country following a string of murders, but Nancy is only half-listening. Instead, she’s focused in what might be a semi-intimidating way for Robin on the blue of the woman’s eyes, how they flit between shades as the light changes.

—“And they’re going to have… bright blue eyes! Not like me, but like… like the ocean on a summer day.” Nancy remembers saying, Chrissy listening attentively at her side. “And one of those faces like an old Hollywood movie star, and an older brother who was born into parents who adopted them.”

“Is all of this important?” Chrissy had asked, and Nancy had shrewdly raised an eyebrow, breaking her concentration for only a second.

“Chris, it’s about making somebody impossible. I want to make sure I never fall in love,” Nancy had said, resolute and avoiding the sad curve of Chrissy’s lips in response. “Now shut up! I have to finish. And she’s going to hate coffee because it makes her sleepy instead of waking her up, which makes no sense to her or anyone else—“

“She?” Chrissy had piped in again, and Nancy had felt herself blush to the roots of her hair.

“Maybe,” she’d said, defensive and immediate, and her sister had just laughed and wrapped her in a hug, reminding her that they’d always have each other’s backs, no matter what. It was a promise they’d made with blood before Chrissy had run off, but it had been deep in both girls’ souls since long before that.

Nancy comes back to the moment with Robin with a certainty that grips her all the way to her soul. It’s her, she thinks, eyes locked on the cabinet beside her to avoid staring a hole into Robin’s head. Nancy’s magic impossible woman. And she’s doomed her to die.

[scavengerbird]

butterflies

Ms. Novak has a bulletin board behind her desk in her classroom. It’s got all her favorite vacation photos on it. She travels a lot. I guess I would too, if I didn’t have to work summers and I had a husband with a six-figure salary and cousins spread out across Europe.

            My favorite photo is this one she took somewhere in Italy, of this weird, freaky-cool statue. It’s this woman, getting stabbed by an angel with an arrow. Except even though she’s about to get skewered, the woman looks totally blissed out. All these spiky gold pieces come down, I guess they’re supposed to be rays of light. Francesca caught me staring at the picture in class once and asked if the angel was supposed to be Cupid. It’s not. I knew that even before Ms. Novak told us about the story behind it, something about a religious experience, and the kind of love that sets your soul on fire. I don’t think Francesca got it. I did.  

*

The first time I find God, She offers me a cigarette.

            She’s older, strands of grey running through Her dark hair, faint lines around her mouth and at the corners of her eyes. She’s leaning against a car parked on the side of the street in front of the empty house two up from mine, half Her body bathed in the pool of yellow from the streetlight.

            I’m walking Scrat, but I stop dead when I see Her. Scrat starts whining, stubby tail flying, his whole little sausage body shaking as he tugs on the end of his leash trying to get over to Her to say Hi. I want to pull him back and call him a traitor, but I’m not sure that would be fair.

            She sets the cigarette She’s been watching burn between Her lips, orange end glowing brighter as She inhales, and crouches down to scratch behind Scrat’s ears. He stops whining as soon as Her fingers brush his fur. I almost tell Her it’s rude to pet other people’s dogs without asking, but I can’t figure out for sure which one of us Scrat belongs to more, technically.

             I’m starting to feel stupid just standing here, staring, so I sit down on the curb to wait. She glances up at me, pulls a pack of cigarettes out from some pocket I didn’t see, or maybe from nothing. I guess She could do that, if She wanted. She offers me the pack and I take one. I’ve never actually smoked before, but I figure She knows that. It’s already lit.

            I can’t help it. “These things’ll kill you, you know.” I’m shooting for cocky, or at least ironic, but my voice cracks. I take a drag and cough.

            She smiles with half her mouth and stands up.

            A car turning onto the street pulls my attention away. It’s Francesca’s dinged up hand-me-down forerunner. I can see her nodding her head in time with whatever’s on the radio through the windshield.

When I look back at God, She may as well have blinked out of existence. Even her earth-rain-woodsmoke scent is gone from the air.

            Francesca tries to pull in behind the car God was leaning against, but she winds up inching her car back-forward-back-forward-back-forward trying and failing to squeeze parallel into the space. I go around the driver’s side and tap on the window. She rolls it down, beaming at me.

            “I’ve almost got it.”

            I shake my head because she definitely doesn’t, and hold up Scrat’s leash; he’s jumped up and put his front paws on the door of the car, yipping at Francesca to come out and pet him. 

“Trade me for the little monster and let me end the suffering of your car and every single one of my neighbors watching out their kitchen windows.”

            She laughs and my chest catches fire. I take another drag of the cigarette I’d almost forgotten about, like I think that will steady something inside me. It doesn’t.

She crinkles her nose. “You smoke now?”

            “Oh. No. I just wanted to see what it was like.” I shrug.

            “And?”

            “It’s kind of gross.”

            She holds her hand out and I pass her the cigarette, watch as she closes her mouth around the imprint my lipstick left on the white paper and inhales. She doesn’t cough, but I’m pretty sure it’s a close thing. She does make a face.

            “You’re right,” she says, smoke leaking out her mouth and dissipating in the air between us, “I don’t like it.”

            She drops the butt of the cigarette on the asphalt and steps on it as she climbs out of her car. Then she takes Scrat back to the sidewalk while I ease her car the rest of the way over to the curb.

            “Don’t pretend you could’ve done that in under five minutes.”

            “Don’t pretend Scrat loves you as much as he loves me,” she shoots back, sticking her tongue out. She’s down on her knees on the ground, rubbing his belly and cooing at him. I sit down next to her and she leans in to rest her head on my shoulder.

            She hums, soft, and I give her a few minutes before I nudge her up and tell her to come inside.

*

 The second time, God takes my picture.

            I’m with Francesca; we’re winding our way through the booths at the dinky school carnival. We slip past a huddle of kids crowded around a dunk tank, trying to soak Ms. Novak. Rows of goldfish are lined on a folding table, their big sad eyes begging me to set them free while a couple of freshman try to land ping pong balls in their bowls. Francesca pulls me along to a food stand and buys us a funnel cake to split. She tries to pour powdered sugar over the plate and misses, dumps white dust down my front. I smear a handful of it across her cheek and down her neck in retaliation and she squeals, laughing into the crook of my arm while she tries to use my sleeve to wipe her face clean.

The camera flash goes off in my face before I see Her. She really comes out of nowhere. She’s hiding behind a beat up silver Nikon and a sweater that must be three sizes too big, but the twist of her mouth is obviously amused.

            Francesca’s face lights up brighter than the flash and I go blind all over again. “Is this for the yearbook?” she asks, wrapping an arm around my waist and leaning in to touch her burning mouth to my cheek for another picture while I’m still blinking and disoriented.

            “Smile,” Francesca whispers.

            “We’re both covered in sugar,” I whisper back.

            The flash goes off one more time, and then God is gone just as quick as She came, whirling away, Her red braid swinging behind Her until She’s swallowed up by the crowd.

            Francesca keeps her arm settled around my waist while we walk through the rest of the carnival.

*

The third time I find God, I’m a little bit tipsy and I try to fistfight Him in the Denny’s parking lot at 4 in the morning. 

            Tonight, God looks like a boy who could be just a year or two older than me. But the dreams in his eyes look like dead things behind glass, museum exhibits, the kind of bones no one knows the names for anymore. He might be a little drunk too. Or high.

            He smiles when I punch Him in the face. Blood drips down from his nose and runs into his mouth, over his teeth. I feel like it should be gold or glowing, like it should look as electric as He feels. But it’s red as mine, where my knuckles are split open. And then Francesca’s dragging me away, trying to apologize to Him and ask what the fuck is wrong with me at the same time, and I let her grab my face to look me in the eye, and when I turn to look back He is gone.

            Francesca takes me back to her house because she doesn’t trust me not to throw up in my sleep and die choking on my own puke, and we both know my parents probably wouldn’t notice if I did. Just like they probably won’t notice the vodka missing from the back of the cabinet. Francesca turns the headlights off at the top of her street and we drive down to her house in the dark, the whole world made of shadows and the sound of our breathing. She leads me by the hand through the back door, careful of my bloodied knuckles.

            She makes me sit on the edge of the kitchen counter while she runs my hand under cool water and dabs at it with gauze and Neosporin, lets me rest my head on her shoulder while she does it, even though it makes the angle awkward and she should be annoyed.

            She helps me take my makeup off before she tucks me into her bed with her and makes sure I’m rolled over on my side. I open and close my mouth four times, trying to tell her I’m in love with her, but no sound is coming out.

*

The fourth time, He’s an old, old man, a blanket wrapped around Him, tucked against the side of the 7/11 between Francesca’s house and mine.

            It’s almost midnight, and I’m on my way home because Francesca’s parents won’t let me spend the night on school nights anymore. Francesca tried to get me to stay anyway, since her parents were already asleep, but she’s on thin ice right now because they found out we skipped school last week to go Prom dress shopping, and I don’t want her to get grounded. At least our dresses look good together.

            God pulls a gnarled hand from His blanket cocoon and pats the ground next to Himself. I look over my shoulder at my car, but it’s not like anyone is waiting up for me at home, so I sit down with a little more distance between us than He indicated. I hold the coffee I just bought a little closer to my chest, trying to let the warmth soak through the paper cup and my clothes.

            I look over at Him, my mouth already open to ask the question that’s been wriggling around inside me since that night in the Denny’s parking lot, when my phone starts chirping Francesca’s ringtone. I fumble to get it out of my pocket.

            “Hey?”

            “Hey. Did you get home ok? You forgot to text.” She sounds like she’s on the edge of falling asleep. My heart makes an ugly mess in my chest, of being touched and guilty at the same time.

            God’s got his one hand still out, raised and pointing up. I look, but it’s just the hazy darkness of the night sky. “Shit. I’m fine. I just stopped at 7/11.”

            “To get what? The whole store? You left like twenty minutes ago.” I think she’d be laughing at me if she had the energy.

            “I got distracted. I was looking at the stars.”

            “Oh my god. You’re adorable.”

Then, as if on cue, 7/11’s power surges and goes out behind me, and I can see the stars. More than I’ve ever been able to before.

            There aren’t any other cars coming down this exit right now, and 7/11’s the only thing back here since the KFC gave somebody salmonella and got closed down. So when the 7/11 goes dark, it’s like every light in the world went out and came back on in the sky.

             I don’t think this is, scientifically, how light pollution is supposed to work.

“Shut up,” I whisper into the phone. My mouth is curved up, and I can’t keep the affection out of my voice.

I look back over at Him and he’s smiling the smallest, loneliest thing I’ve ever seen. I look back up at the stars, ignoring the increasingly frantic 7/11 employees running in and out of the building

“Maya? You still there?”

I stand and stretch. I realize I’ve been the only one sitting against the side of the building for a few minutes now. “I’m heading home now. You don’t have to keep waiting up for me to text. Get some sleep.”

            “Nope. I’ll sleep after you text that you got home safe.”

            I get in my car and turn the heat all the way up. The air might be nearly lukewarm by the time I get home. “I’m five minutes from my house.”

            “You were ten minutes from your house twenty minutes ago. Just text?”

            “I will. I was just-”

            “Great-drive safe-love you.” She hangs up on me.

            My whole body is warmer than it was before she called. I float home, or my car drives itself, because I’m at my house and getting here is a blur. All the windows are dark but when I text Francesca that I’m here she sends me a smiley face and a heart back.         

*

The fifth time, I’m starting to lose count.

Traffic’s crawling along ahead of me, stop-start parking lot slow, and the sun’s slanting through the sky like a spotlight shining straight in my eyes, butter-yellow and blinding. Francesca’s half-asleep in the passenger seat, dazed and dreamy and drooling just a little and I think this is how you know you’re stupid-in-love, when you think their drool is adorable. And God’s talking to me on the radio.

            The voice of God on the FM comes out of my car speakers as something that’s not so much a voice at all, but a sound there’s no name for. Something between music and static, between the thud of bass and a note too high to hear. Wordless.

            I’m not really sure how I understand it. I couldn’t repeat it, or explain or translate or define any of it. It’s just there, echoing around the back of my brain until it sinks in and makes sense on some instinctual level, and then I’m turning the steering wheel left even though the GPS is tripping over itself, telling me to stay on this road for two more miles, recalculating, take exit 24A to turn around, recalculating, recalculating. I’d turn it off, but it’s Francesca’s phone and she’s holding it just far enough away from me I think I’d have to take both hands off the wheel to reach. I swear I can hear something like frustration in Siri’s voice.

            Listening to God hurts, in a good way. My ears start to ache like muscles after exercise. That sort of satisfying soreness that comes from pushing yourself until you find a limit.

When Francesca wakes up, she smiles at me, sleepy and safe, and it makes me sorry when she turns to look out the windshield and the expression melts off her face, confusion taking over.

            She pulls herself fully upright in her seat and peers out at the world rushing by like if she squints she might see the boardwalk, instead a bunch of trees. I think she’s going to say something, and the ringing in my ears is loud enough I’m not sure I’ll be able to hear her. But she just picks up her phone and cancels the GPS route. She raises her eyebrows at me. I shrug and she shrugs back, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement, and a knot in my chest loosens.

She doesn’t ask where we’re going, which is good, because I don’t know.

            Some things just feel unequal.

            “I’m sorry.” My voice sounds distorted; it’s hard to hear myself over the sound of God.

            Francesca sighs, forehead pressed against her window. “You don’t have to apologize.”

            I know she means it, but it still doesn’t feel true. 

            Francesca pulls away from her car door to lean over the center console, close enough that when she tilts her head down, strands of her hair fall around her face and tickled my shoulder. She pinches my arm, lightly.

            “Hey. Maya. I know you can’t look at me because you have to look at the road, but seriously, it’s fine. Okay?”

            I nod, a jerky motion.

            “I just wanna spend the day with you, okay?” She headbutts my shoulder gently before she sits back in her own seat, stealing my right arm and taking it across the gearshift with her.

She holds my hand and traces patterns from the inside of my elbow down to my palm with her fingers until any tension left in my shoulders from this morning has bled out. She points things out as we pass them: a car with its sideview mirror held on by duct tape, somebody’s bike abandoned on the shoulder of the road, spray paint on an overpass. Her voice is light made sound: it hits me like an arrow to the chest.

Skipping was a good idea.

“Why here?” Francesca finally asks, after I park the car.

            “I don’t know.”

            I drove us straight into the middle of a field, a sea of knee-high switchgrass brushing up against my car and swaying a little in the breeze. I’ve got my window down, and something about the gentle rustling sound is strangely soothing.

            She laughs, a quick burst of sound like cool water. “Good thing I meant it when I said it didn’t matter where we went.”

            We’re in the middle of nowhere, nothing but weeds around us, and she doesn’t even care.

            The noise from the radio finally goes quiet.

            Words I’ve been trying to say for weeks flutter out of my mouth like butterflies I’m setting free, and Francesca smiles and leans over the gear shift toward me again.

[turtlemagnum]

today was the day my grandpa retired. he came into work, sat in the break room and talked to everybody who wanted to say goodbye at work all day. he got to see this one regular shopper who always brought her dog, he got to pet her (and so did i, eventually). me and my grandma got there at about 2:30 or so, and stayed until about 4, which is when he got clapped out. i swear, every fucking employee in the company was there, and we all clapped as he passed by. it's weird to say about my goddamn grandpa, but i felt proud of him in that moment. then we went to the bar that they planned his retirement party at. turned out to be a gay bar, which they didn't know when they planned it, but they didn't have a problem with it either. was nice to have a bar i could feel comfortable wearing my pride pins at.

the party felt a bit rough on my end, at the start. shit got crowded quick, and for the first little while they kept sending me out to the car to get one little thing they forgot. but, i got some food in me (which was mostly pretty damn good), and then i started talking to my mom, which led to talking to family members i either hadn't seen for a while or hadn't met at all, which turned out nice. i played darts with someone who turned out to be my little cousin, little gremlin thing was only 14. i had to stop her from getting tetanus, apparently earlier in the month she decided to grab a motherfucking snapping turtle, frankly amazed she's still in one piece. her grandfather was the man who took me to shoot for the first time, so goddamn many years ago. my mom asked him about something gun related and his response gave me the bittersweet revelation that in terms of technical information, i've surpassed him in the intervening years. i can guarantee he's still a better shot than me though, given just a relative lack of experience on my end.

at first i only drank water because the only non-alcoholic drinks the barkeep said she had were non-alcoholic beer and coke products, and given the current boycott i'm trying my best to steer clear from coke products. then my little cousin mentioned she wanted a daiquiri, and apparently they had them available so i got one too (or first, rather, just by sheer luck of the draw). virgin, of course, just like i used to get when i was a little kid. one of the many things that felt nostalgic tonight. karaoke had started, and i saw my grandparents dancing together to a love song, and i felt like crying. it was through a window, but i saw a very special moment. a part of me was envious, for what they have. i'd never tell them that, though.

eventually, the crowd that came for the party started clearing out, and there were a few unrelated people who just came for the karaoke. one was a beautiful woman with an even more beautiful singing voice. my mom really hit it off with her after she sang, though i couldn't hear a word they said due to how loud the music was. the same could be said of my grandparents talking right next to me. i was resting my arm on my grandma's chair, and i felt it wobble from being a bit uneven. i decided to wiggle the chair a bit, which got a smile out of her. something else i remember from earlier was that i talked to my uncle. a bit about him:

he's my grandma's adopted little brother. i mention that he's adopted because he's native. don't know what tribe or anything, he's never mentioned it and frankly, given how he taught us kids words in "indian" i'm not entirely sure he knew either. again, adopted. in terms of raising him my great grandparents did about as good a job as white people living in the 1970s coulda done, frankly. because of that bleeding over into how my grandparents and how my mother raised me, i'd like to think i have a fairly healthy amount of respect and interest in indigenous cultures the world over; especially for somebody whiter than a cracker. so because of him, i don't think i'd be as good a person as i am today without his impact in a somewhat roundabout way, given how we were never the closest or anything. maybe when i was a lot younger, but the years have definitely gone on. and my only regret is that i feel like i can't really communicate how him and his son have impacted who i am as a person.

regardless, i talked with him for a bit. he asked what i was doing with my life, and i mentioned that i've been planning on getting my CDL and becoming a truck driver. he was also a truck driver before he somewhat recently retired, so he gave me a lot of advice, what to expect, what to look for, so on. he mentioned that the biggest downside to trucking is that it gets real lonely, and i said that was fine by me because i'm already a lonely person. he responded saying that it'd be the perfect job for me, then, and empathized with me when i mentioned how shitty that grocery job was. the conversation trailed off after his son, my cousin, came back after paying their bill. he was there with his girlfriend, who started talking about how she wanted to punch the owner dude for how he treated the barkeep lady. i just sorta slinked off from there

a few highlights and notable occurrences of today include: me and my grandma going to the car to be there for my grandpa while it was pouring goddamn buckets, like seriously just a little bit earlier the weather got bad enough that we thought somebody tried to bust open the door at first. being up at the bar with my mom and some guy mentioning that i looked like some guy from the smashing pumpkins(?), with both him and my mom being amazed that i didn't know who they were. he got especially amazed when i mentioned that she was my mom, he just sorta thought we were friends. he pulled up a picture of the guy on his phone and i did see the resemblance in the sense that he was a bald guy with a wide facial structure. one of my relatives i hadn't met before (at least, to my own recollection) wanted to see my eyes, because she wanted to see if i got them from my grandpa. his are blue, mine are hazel. regardless, she said i had beautiful eyes and an even more beautiful smile. really lit up my night, especially after my grandpa mentioned that i usually have beautiful hair too. also led to me having a conversation with the gun grandpa relative guy about how when i was a lot younger, i had my hair a bit longer once and then an old lady i held open a door for called me a "nice young lady" and i immediately shaved it, which he mentioned how he used to be a hippie dude which then went into a whole thing about him struggling with alcoholism and such. after the whole conversation topic had essentially run its course, i mentioned how growing up with my mom i heard a lot about the shit that addiction had done to our family, so i've made sure to never start anything, and i couldn't quite get a read on it but he seemed a bit proud.

at one point my mom was doing karaoke, this was later on in the night. she was doing green day, and she was just bad. had no sense for the flow of the words, no real tune to it, just god awful, it was great. she gestured for me to come up and sing with her, which i denied vehemently, mostly because i knew the song wasn't suited to my voice at all. which, to be fair, it wasn't suited for hers, either, but i actually cared about sounding good. i remembered how many years ago, she told me how much i sucked at singing, and it really hurt my little kid ego. then, a few years back now, back when i had a friend group they all agreed that i had a pretty good singing voice. so when i went up for karaoke, i felt pretty confident in sounding at least decent, albeit anxiety ridden as all hell.

here's the thing about my singing voice. it's not really suited for most of the music i'm really into, much less shit like modern-ish pop or rock or anything like that. i think it's unequivocally best suited for oldies, especially shit like sinatra. so, that's what i went with, and put in blue moon. i had songs from new vegas on the mind, since earlier the guy running the karaoke equipment sang why don't you do right from it presumably to fill the gaps between actual customers wanting to sing. and god dammit, when i got up and grabbed the microphone i was fucking shaking, especially my legs. i was anxious, because i wasn't sure if i was gonna turn out well, and to my relief i did. something i think was one of my better points was my rhythm/timing, i can't say i know the words by heart but i do know the way they're sung deep in my bones. i kept my eyes glued to the lyric screen until the first break in the song, and then i looked at the "crowd" (which, wasn't very many people but still). they all seemed to be genuinely enjoying it, and not at my expense either. something else i'm particularly proud of is how i'd occasionally misspeak (missing?) e.g. saying "flew moon" instead of "blue moon", but i managed to stay almost perfectly in sync with how the song's supposed to go without stopping and going "ah shit", y'know. i definitely know it's an important skill in live performances to be able to just keep on going even if you fuck up, so i'm definitely pretty happy about that.

afterwards i got applause. and like, i had been there for the night, i could definitely tell the polite applause from the "oh shit that was good" applause y'know. i didn't get as much hype as the lady who was an actually good singer, but i could tell that i did a pretty good job. my mom said that i did really good too, and both her and my grandpa congratulated me on having the balls to actually get up there and sing because they know how i am. afterwards my grandpa said he was genuinely impressed, and i know for a fact he'd let it be known that i did a shitty job if i did a shitty job, so that meant a lot. it was, in fact, my first time ever singing karaoke, so despite not being The Best tonight we're all definitely happy with how it turned out. that felt really nice.

it's bittersweet, seeing that he's finally done with this fucking job. he literally had number 1 seniority in the entire company, and this isn't a small company. it's mostly local, but it's big enough that there are a few stores in places like chicago. all of the people he worked with clearly loved him, and i'm glad that i have a grandpa worth being considered "the best boss i've ever had" by so many goddamn people. we had people who he hadn't even worked with in years, who moved to other jobs or other stores, they all came just to show how much they loved him. i'm glad he's so loved, i love him too. i just hope he doesn't go fucking insane from being home so damn much. tonight was a good night

[simplysparrow14]

The Lackadaisy Film-Pilot Review

Please note that all opinions are my own. No one is paying me to talk about the film. I'm just a fan with a few opinions.

So I just watched the long anticipated animated film-pilot, based on the massively popular anthropomorphic comic, Lackadiasy.

And it was good. Not perfect, by any means. but good.

As with any independently funded project, there are undoubtably mistakes and problems that, with a professionally backed project, wouldn't be an issue.

The first 5 minutes can be completely cut out. In this scene, the titular character Rocky Rickaby (played by) pronounces an incredibly gawdy, overblown, too-long-for-its-own-good poem about the Mississippi River. From his violin, he spews glitter sparkles and gilded daises. The entirely of that scene could have been cut as it truly doesn't serve anything to the overall plot or character. Its truly a long-drawn sequence that is meant to show off the animation budget, which is mostly squandered since all Rocky does in that scene is prance across the bridge while hanging from the scaffolding beams. It feels as though the film is trying to pad out time. Instead of having this egregious poem play out, the film could have used that 5 minutes to help fully flesh out the overall plot that the film tries to explain.

The plot itself doesnt make itself known naturally. Often times, characters will have to speak a few lines of exposition. (this is scene with the Lackadaisy practiconer, Mitzi May, who monologues about the glory-days of the speakeasy to the giant portrait of her dead husband). We get vague hints that there was a falling out between Mordecai Heller (Played by Songwoo Cho) and the Lackadaisy Speakeasy. We get a vague sense of a rival business' called Marigold, and Mitzi's want of "the good old days" of the lackadaisy. But because the film itself spends a good chunk of its time with very well coreographic action scenes and car chases, we never get a real feel for what the lackadaisy represents to these characters, why its survival is important outside of "i miss the good old days" and "we need money" and why Mitzi is so hell-bent on bringing its corpse back to life. The film itself does a decent job of trying to que newcomers into the story, but truly the film is for the fans.

There were a multitude of scenes where it was too silent for its own good. Multiple scenes were lacking in background music, and as such, a lot of times you could hear nothing but sound effects. While not too egregiously overplayed like Hazbin Hotel, where even the potted plants had sound effects, Lackadaisy keeps it to the minimum. However in scenes where it feels like it should be big bombastic music to put forth a sense of urgency and fear, it's mostly kept quiet and as a result, make several scenes in which there is nothing but slamming doors and shotgun blasts become too common. Because Lackadaisy's is independently funded, there not at the disposal of a orchestra, or the technical capacity for a prominent OST.

Throughout the short film, there were multiple shots where you could see the sketch lines beneath the animation. Often times you could see the face symmetry lines, and as a result, felt jarring for a piece of animated almost 3-4 years in the making. While most likely a stylistic choice, it often makes the film look too unfished, like they didn't have enough time to pass over the animation a second time. This is juxtapose by after-credit sketch animation akin to Fleisher-brothers/Steamboat willie

Some of the voice acting is a little hit and miss. While some VA do beautiful work with their characters (SungWon Cho's Mordechai, Malcom Ray and Benni Latham's Brother-Sister Duo, Serafine and Nicodeme, Belsheber Rusape and Michal Kovach's Chaos Cousins' Freckle and Rocky) others feel a little out of touch (Ashe Wager tries her hardest for a southern accent, but ultimately fails while also giving Mitzi the deepest southern bell voice I've heard in a long time, while Bradley Gareth's cadence for Sedgewick Sable makes him sound just a few steps below a more proud but deep Jimmy Stewart).

However, the animated itself (when you don't see the sketch lines) is beautiful. All of the sound effects feel purposeful and appropriate. The techno-swing jazz music that is played feels in sync with the aesthetic of the whole piece. But truly the action scenes in which Ivy, Freckle and Rocky must outrace Nicodeme, Serefine and Mordecai are truly the best parts. Fun, fast, and exciting!

Overall, for a short film, independent animated it's one of the best, and id still recommend it for anyone who's a fan of the comic as well as newcomers.

[summerbirdie]

Jeremiah Fanfic:

Summary: Part 1(maybe, if this gets attention)

Jeremiah picks up Addie(oc) from the Cousins bus stop.

Notes: this is my first ever fanfic so pls be nice. Imagine its Jeremiah but season 2 Jeremiah and not season 1 Jeremiah

Warnings: none. unedited. just cute stuff

My name is Addie and me and my mom have been going to Savannah’s beach house ever since I was a baby. Beck, my mom and Laurel had been best friends ever since high school. I had been spending every summer there with the Conklins and the Fishers until 3 years ago when my mom passed away in a car accident. After that I started living with my dad. Before him and my mom had never been close and I only saw him on holidays. Dad let me continue to go to Cousins but it wasn’t the same. Everyone was to sad to do anything. Last summer was when everything changed. It was like the good old days again.

I wanted this summer to be the same. Like nothing had ever changed. I told myself i wouldn’t be sad AT ALL anymore because i had lost enough time being depressed and i knew my mom would want me to be happy. I hoped that everything would stay the same. Belly would still be the same supportive person she had always been, Steven would still be the same old guy that could always make your day, Conrad would still be the same easy-going person (and hey he might actually let me smoke some of his weed this time) and Jeremiah would be the same funny, flirty golden retriever he had always been. This summer would be the same as it’s always been.

Key word: SAME.

It was the day before the Conklins had to arrive because I could only get a ticket for this day but hey, who complains about an extra day at the beach. I pulled up to the bus station at 2 in the afternoon after my 5 hour bus drive (my dad never came to the summer house and it didn’t make sense that he drive me 5 hours in one direction and another 5 hours the other so now I took the bus). I had called Jeremiah 30 minutes ago and asked him to pick me up and just as I was expecting he was right there when I walked off the bus. “Hey Addie, whats up?” he said looking at me with his blue eyes. “Oh hey, Jere nothing much just happen to be visiting my annoying best friend. I don’t really like him that much but hey I’m m not one to turn down a free vacay!” I responded looking at him cockly. “ Oh, really? We are gonna play it that way?” “ Hey, I guess we are.” I continued bluffing. “Yeah? Ok then.” Jere responded suspicious. Before I was able to blink I realized I was upside down and staring at Jeremiah Fishers surprisingly good-looking butt. “Noo, Jeremiah Fisher, PUT. ME. DOWN!” I said trying to hold my laugh in. By the time he put me down too much blood had gotten to my brain and I felt lightheaded. Jere noticed my red face so he immediately bent down to get my duffle-bag filled with practically every piece of clothing i owned because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t overpack.

As we got to Jere’s Jeep he opened the door for me, put my stuff in the back and got in. We were silent the first couple of minutes before he asked me “So… how are yo-“. “ Lets not do this.” I knew he was asking about my mom and though I was at ease now I hated when people tried to connect with me and try to convince me that they understand what I am going through. I realized I had been a bit harsh so I mumbled a quick “Sorry”. Jere was quick to change the subject which I was glad for. “So how are things with Tyler?” I kept my silence before he continued “Do I have to beat up anyone?” It was hard to keep the smile off my face and ignore him for much longer so i shamefully answered his questions. “Well if his constant annoying spamming continues into full on harassment you just might have to.” Jeremiah’s happy face suddenly became a concerned one. “Shit Dee Dee, what happened?” “WellI guess some guys can’t take a hint and by hint I mean straight up looking him in the face and telling him we’re over.” “ Please promise me you will tell me if anything happens!” He genuinely looked worried so I assured him. “Thank you, but I can defend myself well enough.” Now his eyes were on me and not the rode. “Promise me, Addie.” I didn’t want him to get upset. “ I promise, Jere.” That seemed to calm him down and I was satisfied. I suddenly wondered why we was suddenly so interested and worried. I didn’t have enough time to think it through because we had just pulled up the house.

[ace-angel-judas]

So how does Arabella find out when he’s on probation and then how does she find Jungkook? Is she given a warning by authorities? Does Taehyung leave her a note with the address where Jungkook is staying?

“Jungkook’s out of prison,”

“Are you shitting me?! That family is fucking crazy,”

“Sadly they have their hands in every pocket in the city,”

Arabella stood at the door to Grace’s office, eyes wide. Visiting the law firm was one of the only places she liked to go, it was small but it was nice.

“He’s out?” Arabella whispered.

“Fuck, Belle, wait in the car-“

“Actually, she needs to be told too,”

Arabella went stiff, eyes wide as a man in an expensive suit walked into the office. She knew him well, Kim Taehyung, one of the best lawyers in the city and Jungkook’s cousin.

“My client is out on probation but like you argued for, there is a restraining order,” Taehyung announced as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, “He isn’t to be within 20 miles of your niece,”

She wasn’t expecting the paper to be passed to her, Arabella taking it and opening it. The details of Jungkook’s release were on the paper, including an address.

Catalina quickly snatched it from her hands.

“Don’t hand my client anything without me looking first!” She spat, “It’s stupid that he gets out of prison for killed more thirty people and putting Arabella through hell!”

“Through hell?” Taehyung glanced at Arabella and it made her feel cold, like he was calculating her every move, “They were young and recklessly in love, I’d say she enjoyed every moment,”

“Get the fuck out of my office,” Grace spat sharply.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Taehyung smirked as he looked at Arabella once again, “See you later, Mrs Park,”

Arabella chewed on her bottom lip, the address ingrained in her memory.

[rjcopeseethemald]

WIP Questionnaire ±1

To be honest, I keep looking for these as an excuse to talk about my work

This one I got from @illarian-rambling, I wasn't tagged in her post but I accepted the open invitation However, since this is how my mind works, I'll turn this into a game. Updated Rules: 1. Answer as few or as many of the following questions as you'd like! 2. In passing the tag along to others, you can add one question of your own, or replace an existing question.

1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?

The magic system. It took years for the idea to finally click in my head, too. It started when I watched the Terrible Writing Advice on Myths, Legends, and Gods; JP just had to challenge me with "A pantheon of the Periodic Table would be way too big". So I said "Alright, bet", but the idea still wasn't there. Then, I finally began watching ATLA and Breaking Bad (very late to both parties), and then my brain went: "What if... chemistrybending?"

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

Probably a more light-hearted version of "Can You Hear The Music" from Oppenheimer.

3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

Hydrogen, Admiral Wright, and Miilo Saba. Hydrogen is the Elemental of their namesake atom, and I attempted to write them as wholesome and eccentric. I would liken them to a much older and wiser version of the Collector from The Owl House. They also wield a flaming shortsword, and can turn invisible (since hydrogen gas is invisible by default). Admiral Wright is the main antagonist of volume one. She was the first woman (and still only one of two) to be fully commissioned in the Lodinican Republic Navy, and is otherwise known as its toughest commander. Her backstory is a commentary on how simply letting marginalized people into unchanged power structures doesn't change their marginalizing nature. Miilo Saba is the older cousin of the twins Lia and Lioko, and he's the captain of an anarchist smuggler ship. He's mostly light-hearted and laid-back, except in a situation where there's no messing around, in which case he can become deadly serious. Why? To be honest, I picked these three because they were the most engaging for me to write.

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

Likely the animated ones I've mentioned before: ATLA (Legend of Korra included) and The Owl House, plus other animated shows like Steven Universe. The book will include illustrations a la The Chronicles of Narnia, except in an art style that would easily translate to 2-D animation.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

Holding myself to the standards of good writing. In particular, character writing and depth of worldbuilding.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

I have sea wyverns, which are about twice as big as an albatross; landback tortoises, which are somewhat of a grounded take on the mythological giant turtle/tortoise trope; and more minor appearances like torpedo-fish (fish that can swim up to 80 knots in short bursts) and taransis, cat-sized Lucas-the-Spiders.

7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

The equivalent era to our world is the 1910s-early 1920s. There are ocean liners, trains, and horses, and the occasional airship, while cars are still rather new.

8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?

I am almost done, thank God. I'm planning to take spring quarter off from community college to finish it.

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

The novelty of its magical premises and take on the fantasy genre. Perhaps its politics, too, but those are more of a background thing.

10. What are your hopes for your wip?

I hope it's as original as I claim it to be! A pipe dream of mine is that the complete series financially sustains me, but I'll just retire to a commune upstate if that doesn't happen.

I will add a question 11: What pieces of media have been the most inspiring to you for this WIP? Passing this along to @serotoninshift, @kaylinalexanderbooks, and @she-who-fights-and-writes if any of you all are interested!

Blanks below:

What was the first part of your wip that you created?

If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

What part of your wip are you working on rn?

What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

What are your hopes for your wip?

What pieces of media have been the most inspiring to you for this WIP?

[solocien]

i can’t sleep and don’t want to bother my friends anymore so i’m just going to ramble into the abyss

so fun fact about me: i dilligently collect coins

i’ve been collecting coins since i was a kid and keep them all in a wooden box that has the word “COIN” on the front of it. it’s not something i often tell people, and not because i think it’s embarrassing, but because its pretty mundane comparatively

like, when someone thinks of me, i highly doubt the first thing that comes to mind is that i have a wooden box full of loose coins

but regardless, i am immensely proud of my coin collection. i often think about how, if i was faced with a situation where i had to give up all of my belongings, i would grieve the most over my coin collection. because there is so much substance and wonder inside this little box in my little room, and its wonder that isnt shared by anyone else in my family

just a few days ago, i was with some family assisting with a move, and a family member found some coins and set them aside for me. i was gazing at them in my hands (really close to my face because im blind as a bat even with glasses) and was told that i was “very strange”

and yeah, maybe i am strange. maybe i am an oddity of a 22 year old easily marveled by a piece of round metal. but i don’t care, because i have a 2 pound wooden box in my room filled with metal that is precious to me

and by now you might be wondering “just what kind of coins do you even have?” that is an amazing question, my love. i have so many strange coins and each one tells a unique story. each one fills me with amazement and images of the life it might have lived before ending up in my possession

some of the coins i picked up off the street because they were extra shiny. some coins i kept because they got so corroded that you can’t even make out what it is anymore

a penny that was flattened by a local train, one of many that my cousins and i laid out on the tracks and ran as the train approached in fear that one of the pennies would shoot out from under the wheels. none of them did, and as the train passed and the passengers gazed at us through the windows, we excitedly retrieved our scorching hot, flattened pennies and ran to show our parents. those cousins i havent seen in many, many years now, but i still have that penny, and the vivid memory of that day

i have a coin commemorating the 100th anniversary of Sears, a company that is barely holding on by a thread anymore, but one that my father fondly remembers getting monthly catalogues for as a child in the 60s

pennies run through gimmicky machine presses at amusement parks, ones that i would beg my parents to let me put my pennies through, chosing to hold onto the physical memory of the trip instead of a piece of candy or stuffed toy

my all-time favorites of my collection, however, are the coins i have from all over the world

i have pennies and quarters from Canada, easily mixed up with American currency at small tourist attractions or in vending machines and laundromats, especially where i am in New England

but i also have coins from across the oceans and thousands of miles south of me towards Central and South America. Austria, Spain, Japan, Germany, Russia, Ireland, England, Panama, Coasta Rica, Aruba, France, Sweden, Poland, Mexico to name a few… all from completely different times and cultures

The 1942 German reichsmark… what kind of stories could it tell through its caked on grime? perhaps it was left in a car, or accidentally stepped on, or given from one child to another

or the Panaman centesimo balboa from 1968. perhaps it was once carried in a student’s pocket, or exchanged for some food

what about the 1892 Swedish öre? maybe it was once used to attend a sports club, or saved in a jar for something special

these are just some of the coins in my collection that render me speechless in awe, even the coins from my own country and state, as plain and simple as they might seem, hold so much inherent sentimental value. the decades, and sometimes even centuries, that these coins have lived through, the events they must have seen and hands they must have touched. call coins disgusting all you want, but these coins are my treasures. they’re my look into the vast world around me that i’ve yet to really explore myself

someday soon i will be able to travel across the globe to places i’ve only dreamed about. someday i’ll be able to afford to leave my tiny subrural town in this tiny state and fly across oceans and experience new adventures and find even more coins to tell me stories of people just like me living lives as different and yet as similar to my own

these coins are a bridge to amazing things, and i truly do love each and every one of them with my whole heart

now is the time where i would apologize to my friends for being annoying, so i’ll just apologize to the void. sorry for rambling and good night <3