#she could like...become a trucker. travel the world

[zapreportsblog]

Can you do Rusty nail x reader where the reader was with Lewis and them when they prank rusty and rusty chase them and kip napped reader and the reader falls in love with rusty.

Hope you understand ?

❝sweet thang❞

✭ pairing : rusty nail x reader

✭ fandom : slashers, joyride

✭ summary : (Y/n) told the boys it wouldn’t be a good idea to prank that nice man on the radio but as the saying goes boy will be boys. Now look at what’s happened, she’s been kidnapped, one of them is already dead and she’s slowly falling in love with the very man who kidnapped her

✭ authors note : I surprisingly enjoy writing for rusty mail though he is a character I hadn’t expected to write for I like the challenge of having to write for him ya know?

✭ slashers masterlist

The road stretched out ahead, seemingly endless, under the vast expanse of the starlit sky. (Y/N) sat in the back of the old, beat-up van with her younger sister, Venna, as they continued their cross-country journey with their two travel companions, Lewis and Ronald. The four of them had embarked on this adventure with little more than a whim and a desire to see the world. They had quickly become a tight-knit group, navigating the highways and byways together.

One particularly quiet night, as they cruised down a desolate stretch of road somewhere in the heartland of America, boredom hung heavily in the air. Lewis, the mischievous one of the group, couldn't take it any longer. He leaned forward and switched on the intercom, a relic from a bygone era that came with the van.

"Hey, (Y/N), Venna, you up for a bit of fun?" he asked, a sly grin forming on his face.

(Y/N) exchanged a puzzled glance with her sister, Venna, who was seated beside her. "What kind of fun are you thinking, Lewis?" she inquired cautiously.

Ronald chimed in from the driver's seat, his curiosity piqued. "Well we can radio in some trucks guys and have a little fun with them? How about we have a little fun and prank them and mess with them over the intercom?"

Venna was immediately against the idea. She had always been the voice of reason in the group. "That's mean, guys. We shouldn't do that."

(Y/N) nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that doesn't sound nice. We should leave the trucker alone."

Lewis and Ronald exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Then, with mischievous grins, they turned back to the sisters.

"Come on, it'll be harmless fun," Lewis insisted. "We won't hurt him, just mess with him a bit."

Ronald added, "And besides, it's just a bit of excitement on this never-ending road."

Venna sighed, realizing that her protests weren't gaining much ground. She turned to (Y/N), her eyes pleading. "We should stand together on this, (Y/N). Let's not do this."

(Y/N) hesitated, torn between her loyalty to her sister and the allure of an adventure. Finally, she relented, albeit reluctantly. "Alright, but let's not be too mean. Just a little harmless prank."

Lewis and Ronald exchanged triumphant grins as they tuned into the CB radio. Ronald picked up the microphone, and his voice crackled through the intercom, "Breaker, breaker. This is Sweet Thang and Cherry, two lonely travelers in need of some company. Any good-hearted trucker out there want to keep us company tonight?"

The intercom remained silent for a moment, and Venna shot (Y/N) a disapproving look. Then, a deep, gravelly voice filled the van's speakers. "Well, Sweet Thang and Cherry, this here's Rusty Nail. I reckon I could use some company myself. Where y'all headed?"

(Y/N) and Venna exchanged nervous glances as they continued the charade. "We're just drifters, Rusty," (Y/N) replied with a feigned Southern drawl. "Headin' wherever the wind takes us."

Venna reluctantly chimed in, "You can call me Cherry, by the way."

As the night rolled on, they continued their playful banter with Rusty Nail, weaving tales of their supposed travels and misadventures. Little did they know that this innocent prank would lead to unexpected twists and turns on their journey down the open road.

The rhythmic hum of the car's engine served as a lullaby, coaxing (Y/N) and Venna into a drowsy state. They were nestled in the backseat, cocooned in blankets and half-asleep, their journey to the unknown stretching out ahead of them.

Up front, Ronald and Lewis exchanged mischievous glances. Lewis, the eternal optimist, was convinced that this long road trip would be their chance for an unforgettable adventure. Ronald, more practical and a little skeptical, had agreed to go along for the ride, quite literally.

As the miles blurred by, Ronald fiddled with the intercom system. An unexpected voice crackled through the speakers, gravelly and worn, like it had seen more miles than the truck it belonged to.

"Breaker, breaker, this is Rusty Nail, anyone out there in the great unknown?"

Ronald and Lewis exchanged glances again, but this time it was different. The name "Rusty Nail" had caught their attention, it was the truck driver from last night.

"Hey, girls," Ronald said, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "You think we should respond? Rusty Nail sounds like he's in need of some more company from Cherry and Sweet Thang.”

(Y/N) and Venna exchanged puzzled looks, still half-asleep, but curiosity piqued.

Venna, bored out her mind gives (y/n) a mischievous smile, nudged (Y/N). "What do you think? Should we play along? It could be fun."

In the beginning she was against it but having been on the road for a few hours she was starting to grow bored again plus what was the harm in it. They spoke with him once already and he seemed harmless.

(Y/N) yawned and stretched, then leaned toward the intercom. "Sure, why not? What's the harm?"

Ronald and Lewis exchanged victorious grins.

(Y/N) and Venna exchanged glances one more time, now fully awake and realizing they were about to play a part in this peculiar radio encounter. They'd have to think on their feet.

Venna picked up the intercom's microphone and adopted a sultry tone. "Hey there, Rusty Nail, this is Cherry, and I've got my friend Sweets here with me.” What's on your mind?"

In the front seat, Ronald and Lewis exchanged impressed glances. Their sleepy road trip had just taken a wild turn, and it was anyone's guess where Rusty Nail's stories might lead them.

(Y/N) continued to converse with Rusty Nail, maintaining her playful persona as Cherry. But as the minutes turned into hours, a strange feeling began to settle within her. It was a mix of guilt and unease, like she was playing a game that she didn't fully understand.

Feeling the discomfort gnawing at her, she finally decided it was time to bow out. She leaned into the microphone and spoke with a hint of sadness, "Sweet Thang over and out, Rusty Nail. It's been real nice talking to you. We'll catch you on the flip side."

Venna, catching on to her sister's change in demeanor, followed suit, her voice a little quieter, "Yeah, Cherry over and out too. We'll talk later, Rusty."

In the front seats, Ronald noticed the shift in mood and glanced at (Y/N) with concern. "Hey, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked.

(Y/N) sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. "I just... I feel bad for doing this. We don't even know this guy, and we're pretending to be someone we're not. It's like we're messing with his emotions."

Ronald smiled gently and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, it's all in good fun. Rusty Nail's probably loving the company. And if we ever cross paths, we'll make it right."

Their conversation was interrupted as they pulled into a dimly lit gas station, the flickering neon lights casting an eerie glow. (Y/N) decided to stay in the car while the others went to refuel.

As the others left the car, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel the weight of her actions. She decided to radio Rusty Nail once more, her voice laced with sincerity, "Hey, Rusty, it's Sweet Thang again. I just wanted to apologize for cutting the conversation off so soon. It's not that I'm not enjoying talking to you; I'm just not all that social, you know?"

Rusty Nail's voice crackled back, understanding in his tone, "It's all good, Sweets. I can be that way too sometimes. No hard feelings. We'll chat whenever you're up for it. Keep the rubber side down out there."

(Y/N) managed a small smile, feeling a bit better about the situation. Maybe Rusty Nail wasn't as affected as she had feared. She settled back into the car, the road stretching out before her, ready for whatever adventures lay ahead.

(Y/N) had fallen into a deep sleep in her room at the motel, the exhaustion from the day's events finally catching up to her. Meanwhile, Venna, Lewis, and Ronald remained awake, the mischievous idea they had hatched continuing to brew.

With (Y/N) out of the picture, the three of them took turns calling into Rusty Nail's channel. Each time, they spun a new tale, making their fictitious adventures more outrageous with every exchange. Rusty Nail seemed to revel in the companionship, his gruff voice lightening up as he shared his own tall tales.

As the night wore on, Ronald whispered to Venna, "Why don't we invite Rusty Nail to our motel room for some fun? It's just a prank, and it'll give him a story to tell."

Venna hesitated, glancing at Lewis for guidance. After a moment, Lewis nodded in agreement. Venna picked up the intercom, her voice laced with faux excitement, "Hey, Rusty, we've got a wild idea. Why don't you swing by the Cherry Motel? Room 205. We'll have a blast!"

Rusty Nail, always up for an adventure, agreed with enthusiasm. "You got it, Cherry. I'll be there in a jiffy."

They parked in the motel parking lot, and Lewis, always the caring one, helped (Y/N) to the room, ensuring she was comfortable before retiring to his own.

Each of them had their own room, and they settled in for the night, their prank on Rusty Nail ready to unfold.

Later that night, as the motel's parking lot lay shrouded in darkness, the roar of a truck engine shattered the silence. It was Rusty Nail, rolling into the lot with anticipation.

The three friends watched from the shadows as Rusty Nail climbed out of his truck and approached Room 205, a smile on his face. He knocked on the door, not suspecting a thing.

When the door swung open, he was met with laughter and camera flashes. The room was filled with the blinding light of smartphones, capturing his surprised expression.

Ronald, caught up in the moment, couldn't resist taking it a step further. As Rusty Nail retreated to his truck in embarrassment, Ronald hastily scribbled a note on a piece of paper and taped it to Rusty's truck door. It read "Loser."

The boys quickly retreated back to their rooms, and Venna and Lewis joined (Y/N) in her room.

(Y/N) was half-awake when they entered. She mumbled, "What did you guys do?"

Ronald, with a nervous laugh, explained, "We pulled a prank on Rusty, that's all. It was just a bit of fun."

But (Y/N) couldn't shake a growing unease. "You shouldn't have done that. What if he takes it the wrong way?"

Venna and Lewis reassured her that it was harmless fun, but (Y/N)'s bad feeling lingered. The night was filled with an unsettling tension as they waited to see if their prank had unintended consequences.

The unsettling tension from the previous night's prank hung heavy in the air as (Y/N), Venna, Lewis, and Ronald hastily checked out of the Cherry Motel and booked it to another one several miles down the road. (Y/N) felt responsible for the prank that had gone awry, even though she had been half-asleep when it happened.

As they settled into their new accommodations, (Y/N) decided to take matters into her own hands. She picked up the intercom, her voice filled with sincerity, and radioed Rusty Nail, "Hey, Rusty, this isSweet Thang. I wanted to apologize for Cherry's actions and the boys. I had no idea they would do something like that."

A crackling pause filled the intercom, and then Rusty's voice returned, surprisingly calm, "It's okay, sweet thang. You didn't have any say in their prank, so I'll spare you."

"(Y/N)" hesitated, slightly confused by his choice of words. "Spare me? What do you mean?"

Rusty Nail chuckled, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I'm not a vengeful person, but I do enjoy a good game. So, how about this? We'll play a little game, you and me. The boys won't even know. I'll make sure they get what's coming to them."

(Y/N) felt a shiver of unease. She had no idea what Rusty had in mind, but she sensed it wouldn't be a simple matter. "What kind of game are we talking about, Rusty?"

Rusty Nail's voice held an eerie tone of amusement. "A game of wits, my dear. I'll give you a clue to start, and it'll lead you on a little scavenger hunt. The destination? Well, let's just say it's where the boys left their mark."

(Y/N) hesitated, her mind racing with uncertainty. She didn't want to involve herself further in this strange game, but she also didn't want to risk the boys facing any consequences for their ill-conceived prank.

After a moment of contemplation, she reluctantly agreed, "Alright, Rusty. I'll play your game. Just promise me it won't get out of hand."

Rusty Nail's laughter echoed through the intercom. "Don't you worry,sweetheart. It's all in good fun. You'll see. Now, let the game begin."

The atmosphere inside the motel room seemed to have turned icy as (Y/N) relayed the details of Rusty game. Her voice trembled with a bit of uneasement as she explained, "Rusty wants to play a game with us, and he's leaving clues too. The first clue was back at the Cherry Motel."

Venna, Lewis, and Ronald exchanged alarmed glances. They couldn't believe what they were hearing.

Dread hung in the air as they reluctantly decided to return to the Cherry Motel to follow the clue. The night had turned pitch-black, and the once-familiar surroundings now seemed menacing. As they approached the room where they had pulled the prank, a chill ran down their spines.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing a gruesome sight. A lifeless body lay sprawled on the floor, bathed in eerie moonlight. Shock and horror gripped them, and (Y/N) couldn't hold back a gasp.

Lewis, his voice barely above a whisper, radioed Rusty in disbelief, "What the hell have you done, Rusty? This isn't a game!"

Ronald's anger boiled over as he grabbed the intercom, his words sharp and accusing, "You sick fuck! What kind of game are you playing at?"

Rusty Nail's voice crackled back, his tone chillingly calm, "You like games, don't you, boy? Well, let's play."

With those ominous words, it became apparent that Rusty was no longer content with a simple prank. He had escalated things to a dangerous level, and now, they were all unwitting participants in a nightmarish game.

Fear clenched their hearts as they realized that Rusty was not going to let them off the hook easily. He had become the hunter, and they were his prey, trapped in a deadly game with no way out.

Lewis, Ronald, Venna, and (Y/N) had been on the road for hours, driving through a seemingly endless stretch of highway desperate to get away from earlier motel. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow across the landscape. The gas gauge in the car was dangerously close to empty, forcing them to make yet another stop for fuel.

As the car pulled into the gas station, (Y/N) let out a small sigh. She had grown tired of the constant fear gripping at her heart and longed for a moment of peace. "Hey, guys," she said, turning to the others. "I think I'll just stay in the car this time. I'll be fine."

Venna, always the protective one, looked concerned. "Are you sure? I know I said I had to use the bathroom but I can hold it if you want so you aren’t alone?”

“No it’s fine venna, plus I’m pretty sure you can get a UTI from that. I’ll be here, the boys wont be too far away from me and the bathrooms just over there so if I need you I can go there.”

“Are you sure?”

(Y/N) reassured her with a smile. "I'll be right here. Don't worry about me."

The boys, jumped out of the car and headed towards the gas station, promising to be quick. Ronald was the one to turne back and called out, "We won't be long. Stay safe, (Y/N)!"

With a nod, (Y/N) watched them disappear inside the store. She leaned back in her seat, gazing out the window at the passing cars. Moments turned into minutes, and soon she found herself growing restless.

Just as she was about to reach for her phone, a truck pulled into the station. The driver, a man wore a cap with his hair hidden underneath and a had an almost sinister grin imprinted on his lips and it seems he’s caught (Y/N)'s attention. He parked his truck next to her car, his eyes never leaving hers not that she could see it though she did feel a shiver run down her spine as she immediately regretted her decision to stay behind.

"Hey, sweets," the man said, stepping out of his truck and walking towards her. His voice was laced with a chilling menace. "You're all alone out here?"

(Y/N) tried to compose herself, but fear gripped her tightly. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breathing growing shallow. She managed to stammer, "Wh-who are you?"

The man licked his lips, his gaze predatory. "It’s mee Sweet Thang, Rusty. And don't worry, sweetheart, I promised I wouldn't hurt you."

As Rusty approached, (Y/N) felt her body freeze with fear. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but her voice seemed to have vanished. The world around her turned blurry, and the last thing she saw before everything went black was Rusty's twisted grin.

The days had blurred into months since that fateful night when (Y/N) was taken by Rusty. She had no idea what had become of Lewis, Ronald, or Venna, her friends and sister who had been there that night. All she could remember were the anguished screams echoing from the shed, leaving behind a chilling silence that hung over her like a dark cloud.

Rusty had made a sinister promise to her: he wouldn't harm her physically. However, he had found another way to keep her under his control. He had chained her at the ankles, ensuring that she couldn't venture far from his clutches. The rusty iron links weighed her down both physically and mentally, a constant reminder of her captivity.

In the beginning, she had fought relentlessly, clawing at her chains, shouting for help, and trying to escape every chance she got. But Rusty was cunning, always one step ahead, and her attempts were met with harsh consequences. He wasn't afraid to use violence, even if it meant only a bruise here or there. Each time she resisted, it seemed to amuse him even more.

As the weeks turned into months, something peculiar began to happen. (Y/N) found herself slipping into a bizarre routine. Rusty had taken on the role of a malevolent housewife, and she, unwittingly, became a part of it. She cooked his meals, cleaned his house, and even found herself tidying up his collection of gruesome trophies from previous victims.

The lines between captor and captive blurred as she obeyed his twisted demands. Her fear began to morph into compliance, and her survival instincts were dulled by the monotonous cycle of their strange coexistence. In her twisted reality, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of safety in following his commands.

The darkness of her predicament weighed heavily on her, obscuring the memories of her life before Rusty's twisted game. It was as if she had become trapped in a macabre dance, where the only partner was her tormentor. She didn't realize that she was no longer fighting him or trying to escape, but instead, she was slowly being molded into a reflection of his madness.

As the days turned into endless nights, (Y/N) began to lose not only her sense of self but also the hope that anyone would ever find her in this desolate place. Her only company was Rusty and the haunting echoes of those screams that had faded into the abyss.

[crimsyn]

Travis is Alessas dad HC

 i promised @tothepark that I was gonna post this publicly cause at this point the likelyhood of my perfectionist and out-of-writing-practice ass actually writing the silent hill origins rewrite fanfiction I would have liked to present this headcanon in is becoming increasingly small.

So headcanons, lifted straight from my ancient fanfic notes, under the cut to explain Travis is Alessas dad.

First of all, Travis himself has some psychic powers like Alessa does, but they've never overtly manifested what he can remember.

Helen, Travis's mom, also had these powers and could see the Otherworld through the mirrors, and the power in Travis too, but had no control or understanding over them and this caused her insanity.

After Helens admission to Cedar Grove Sanatarium, Travis and his dad visited Silent Hill from time to time to see her. During one of these visits Travis had an encouter with Dahlia as a child.

By the events of 0rigins, Travis is in his early 40s and has worked as a trucker for a long time, practically ever since he quit highschool. Some eight years ago, he picked up a woman (Dahlia) on a gig to ease the "trucker loneliness". She was uncomfortably weird and insistent about it, and to Travis it didn't feel right, but he went through with it anyway. He cannot remember much of the experience - not where he picked her up, what exactly happened, or when and how he returned to his truck. It's all very cloudy, but he is pretty sure that it did happen.

Alessa calls him to Silent Hill before she is burned, and he arrives in the nick of time to save her from the flames. After her rescue, she keeps him there against his will to use him to stall and give her the necessary time and tools to stop the Order from summoning the God.

Travis's own psychic powers, while nowhere near as powerful as Alessas, do influence the town while he is there and that's why he has to face some of his own personal demons (and not just manifestations of Alessa's, like Harry did). It's also how he can travel between the fog world and otherworld. I suppose his psychic powers are less power and more Sensitivity cause he can't or doesn't know how to actively use them consciously.

Once it's all over, Alessa fogs his memory and leads him away from Silent Hill to spare him more of the terror. He showed her kindess and she doesn't want him hurt anymore. He's stalled the Order from summoning the God, and she's split her soul into pieces to prevent them further. (Up until Harry and Cheryl shows up that is)

[elbiotipo]

Oh yes, she absolutely would, in fact, I've thought of most of your scenarios here (though you still gave me some ideas to think about!) As sort of an anthropologist myself (they would use a more generic name since it's an scenario with lots of different species), I would be beyond excited to interview her.

After all, imagine meeting a person from a civilization which unfortunately only left physical remains (there are many examples from the real world) Suddenly, even the most common objects make sense. Even a rather sheltered or distracted person could tell you "oh, this was used for this" or even a "I don't recall, but I think..." would be beyond useful. Listening to what she remembers of songs, art, yes, even memes. Her status in life wouldn't have to be guessed by a grave, she could tell us right here and there. In fact, just listening to her recount her daily life might be the most "useful" (to put it in a way) information she could ever give. That's the hardest thing to come by in archeology.

Regarding technology, she's supposed to be from a post-scarcity utopian society, where you basically have to ask for what you want and some nanomachines will do it for you, while the "future" she wakes in is a rather "rusty" space opera future (think Star Wars) with no such commodities. I was inspired by that meme of a guy who travels to the past and gets asked "and how does this 'electricity' of yours works?" "I don't know". She probably wouldn't be able to explain it, just like your average person in the street probably wouldn't be able to make a electric generator (or if they could, they wouldn't know what to use it for).

Of course with all the info she has she would become a celebrity overnight and heavily requested by all sorts of personalities from academia to journalists, which kind of puts a spanner on my idea of her joining a crew of loser space truckers. And there's a lot of angst on being the last one of your entire civilization, especially when it's on accident. In fact, that's a lot of pressure. I imagine that if a person who knew, for example, spoken proto-Indoeuropean suddenly appeared, he would be interviewed to no end, must be very stressful.

But I'll work on that. Thanks for your comment, it gave me an excuse to rant about worldbuilding!

in my space opera story, there's a character who is the last of her ancient civilization (found in animated suspension) but that doesn't mean she knows ancient precursor knowledge, she was the equivalent of a cringe and fail gamer girl who ate snacks and played videogames all day, and when they ask her "but how did the precursor's intragalactic communications network technology work? where were their homeworlds? how did they went extinct? what does this ancient inscription says?" well, she wasn't paying too much attention, she was pulling gacha, she didn't think too much about how the whole thing worked

I mean, suppose YOU got pulled into the future into a whole different solar system with aliens all around you and you are asked (in technical detail) how did internet connections work or how to get to Earth (in a star map in a completely different language with no reference points) or how to make an internal combustion engine. You'll be fucked.

(unless you're a Wikipedia addict like me, but even then, I'm not even sure how electricity works)

[manonblaqkbeak]

Motel Living

this idea would not leave me alone, despite me having like three other fics barely done. it is very random. i dont even know what to say lol.

2554 words

enjoy!

Today was officially the one month anniversary of Aelin moving into a three-star motel. She did not think she'd be here for long, a couple of weeks at most, but here she was a month later, and on a Friday night no less. She should have been out with her friends, but she opted to stay inside.

She had to tell herself that she shouldn't complain. That there were people that were worse off than her. Living in a motel was fine.

But it still didn't change the fact that Aelin wished she wasn't living in a motel room. Especially one that was popular with long haul truckers whose snores sounded like chain saws and blenders on the highest level. That right now, down in the restaurant/pub that was only six doors down, an important football game was playing and the patrons inside were cheering wildly.

Aelin missed the house that she had been renting the last three years. Last year she had decided to start saving so that she could purchase the house itself, since it was still on the market since the day she moved in. It was hard, but Aelin was a determined woman and she set her sights on purchasing the house—she felt like she practically owned it anyway—up until the day she received a call from the real estate agency telling her that the house had been purchased and she had to move out.

Aelin disliked crying, but the waterworks started the minute she hung up. She really did love that house. Had created a small vegetable and herb garden to make it feel more homely. Made it hers in the three years she had occupied it.

There was a tiny silver-lining, however, since the new owners were coming from the other side of the continent, she had plenty of time to pack and move out.

But that silver-lining quickly disappeared once she started her search for a new home in-between packing and work. Every apartment, every house, every unit she looked out at was taken by the time she handed in her application. Every inspection starting to become fruitless when she knew that she wouldn't be the one to live in it.

Aelin hadn't realised that the market had become so cut-throat. She knew she was the perfect applicant because in all her years renting she never missed a single day, never received a complaint. Even when the landlord dragged his ass to fix something, Aelin kept her temper in its leash and did not throttle him the way she wanted too.

And as her luck ran out and Aelin had started to truly worry about where she was going to live because while she had multiple people in her life, she quickly realised that she couldn't ask any of them if she could move in for multiple reasons:

Aedion and Lysandra were recently married, and Aelin hadn't wanted to burst their newlywed bubble.

Chaol and Yrene were brand new parents, their baby girl born the day Aelin moved out, and she knew the last thing they wanted was someone else in the way.

Nehemia was in the same position as her, but her parents had invited her back home while Nehemia looked for somewhere else. Aelin's parents were dead, and her childhood home had been destroyed in a wildfire a five years ago, and Aelin had used the insurance money to pay off her debts. She cursed herself now for doing that, but Aelin hated being in debt and she did what she had too.

Fenrys lived in a one bedroom unit and had the worlds most uncomfortable couch, so he was out. And while Fenrys was one of her best friends, she didn't really talk with Connall, his twin. Nor did she often talk with Vaughn.

Dorian and Manon were travelling all over Erilea and Dorian's younger brother Hollin was house-sitting. Aelin couldn't stand Hollin for more than a few minutes at a time and she would rather live in the motel for a year than live in with him.

And then there was Rowan. He had been a close friend for years, until five months ago they decided that they had liked each other too much to keep being friends and officially started dating (at Lysandra and Aedion's wedding, of all places). If they had been together for longer, she would have asked him—but she didn't want to rush anything, because Aelin could so clearly see a future with him and she didn't want to hurt that future by moving in far too early in their relationship.

So that left Elide, her lifelong friend that was more like a sister. Elide was purely on the bottom of the list since she knew her friend cherished living alone after living in a shit-hole with her even shittier uncle—but Aelin knew Elide and if Aelin needed a place to stay, then Elide's door would be wide open. The two had gone to lunch and Aelin had been just moments away from telling Elide everything and asking for a world changing favour.

Until Elide had excitedly announced that Lorcan was going to move in.

And Aelin's plan had deflated. Again, Aelin knew that if Elide was aware of how desperate she was, Elide would invite Aelin to stay, but since Lorcan and Aelin didn't particularly get along, Aelin kept her mouth shut and congratulated her friend for the new milestone in their relationship.

So, all her options completely exhausted, Aelin looked for vacant motels, found that this was the best out of all the options and became a long-standing tenant.

Aelin had managed to keep everyone away from her new apartment by claiming that it wasn't ready for visitors. Most knew that Aelin was house-proud, a trait that she had inherited from her late mother, so they knew that when Aelin was ready, she would invite them.

It was getting hard, however, to keep Rowan away. Each date night and hang out ended up at his apartment and Rowan was becoming curious as to how her new place was looking.

Rowan wasn't judgemental, and he wouldn't look down at her for living in a motel room, but Aelin was the problem; she was too proud to show him her new place. Even when she was at her lunch with Elide, she had to beat down her pride at just the mere thought of asking Elide if she could move in.

Tonight, however, Aelin knew in her bones that Rowan would ask to come over. He had a completely shitty day at work—one that ended up in the hospital because for the first time in his career as a carpenter, Rowan had somehow gotten his hand in the way of his nail gun and shot right through the middle of his palm and was off work until it healed, which Rowan hated the most out of the whole ordeal, since Rowan was the type of person that always had to be doing something.

So when his face finally popped up on her phone screen, Aelin muffled a groan into her pillow (because there was no way in hell she was using the standard sheets the motel provided, she needed her bedding or she wouldn't get any sleep), took a deep breath and plastered a smile onto her face.

“How's the hand?” she asked by way of greeting.

“It'd be a lot better if there wasn't a hole in it,” was his groggy reply. “I just woke up from the longest nap and thought of you.”

“That's sweet of you to say,” Aelin said, “do you want me to come over? I could cook you my world famous grilled cheese.” Please say yes, she thought, please.

“As much as I love the sound of that, I just need to get out of my house,” Rowan said, “I know that you're house-proud and if you don't want me to see it, I understand, I'll even wear a blind fold if that'll make you happy, but I just...” he trailed off and Aelin could see his pained expression even though they were miles apart.

“Seeing all your work tools is making you miserable,” she supplied. Rowan grunted in confirmation. Taking a deep breath, Aelin said, “You can come over, I don't mind. I'd be happy to see you.” And she would be. She'd just have to kick her pride in the corner. “There's a pub right around the corner from mine and the cheeseburgers they have are really fucking good, and I mean that sincerely. Do you want me to get you one? Because I only have snacks and canned food at the moment.”

“A burger sounds good, with extra tomato, please.”

Aelin smiled. “Of course, I'll text you the address, and I'll see you soon.”

After ordering their dinner, Aelin tidied up (even though the space was immaculate) and waited, and waited. When a gentle knock sounded at her door, Aelin took the food from the restaurant worker and was just about to go back in when Rowan's truck pulled up.

Even ten car spots away, Aelin could see his puzzled expression from where she stood. Placing the food on the small, round dining table, Aelin waited by the door and gave Rowan her best smile when he stood in front of her.

His puzzled expression melted away momentarily when she kissed him hello, but it was back in full force when they pulled away.

“Fireheart,” was all he said, and it said everything that he didn't say.

“I know.”

“You're living in a motel room.” There was no judgement in his voice, like she knew there wouldn't be, but it was clear that he was confused about the whole thing. She should have just told him. She loved her late mother, but really hated the fact that she had passed her pride to Aelin. She hated the fact that, deep down, she was embarrassed, even if Aelin told herself that she had no reason to. The housing market was insane, there was no where else for her to go, and that she hated herself for not saving more money to buy her home of three years.

“I am,” Aelin said, “but it's not so bad. It's affordable and clean.” Aelin invited him inside and sat him down the small dining table.

From his spot, he took in the space. Saw the bar fridge that could barely hold a bags worth of cold food, her toaster oven and the dual butane stove she had to purchase because she didn't want to have to use the toaster oven all the time. The tiny closet that held a decent amount of clothes, but didn't make a dent in her considerable mountain of clothes that she had put away in the storage unit she was renting.

None of her candles were in sight and no books either. Aelin was taking full advantage of her library apps, but it wasn't the same. Aelin loved the feeling of a book in her hands, but there was no space and it would have been silly to bring in her bookcases.

“Where's all your stuff?”

“In a storage unit. I considered living in there, but it doesn't have an air-conditioner and this place does.”

Before Rowan could say anything, Aelin turned on the TV, put on whatever movie sounded dumb enough and ate her dinner.

Aelin could see the question burning in his eyes as she stuffed her mouth to avoid answering that very question.

Why didn't Aelin ask if she could stay with him?

Aelin wanted to tell him, she really did, but was afraid that if she showed how serious she was, Rowan might admit that he wasn't as serious as her.

But Aelin knew herself, knew that she was going to tell him at one point or another. She could tell Rowan anything and he wouldn't flinch. It was her own doubt stopping her.

“That really is the best burger I've ever had,” Rowan said when he was finished.

“It really is,” was all Aelin could think of to say. Gods, she felt so damned awkward. The question was still in Rowan's eyes, even as he laughed at the movie and its stupidity. So to avoid it for a bit longer, Aelin took the take-away boxes into the dumpster outback and immediately went for a shower afterwards.

When she came out, Rowan was lounging on her bed, his injured hand laying across his chest, the other arm fiddling with her comforter. Aelin dressed in a shirt that she may have borrowed without asking from Rowan and a pair of sleep shorts.

Borrowing underneath her comforter, Aelin rested her head on Rowan's chest and the awkwardness she felt deflated a bit as he pressed a kiss on her head.

Aelin told him how she ended up here. Including her embarrassment and annoyance at herself. Rowan listened attentively, as he always did. That was one of the biggest things she loved about him, that he listened. And Aelin was in love with him, she knew without a doubt. She was certain she fell in love with him when he danced with her at Aedion and Lysandra's wedding.

When the credits started to roll, Aelin took a deep breath and decided to plunge into uncharted territories. She kept her eyes glued onto the screen.

Aelin decided to bite the bullet. If it all went to hell, she would beat herself up later.

“I don't want to fuck things up with you.” Well, that wasn't how she wanted to start this conversation, but she supposed it was the best way to start off. “I wanted to ask you if I could move in, but our relationship is just so new, and I didn't want to ruin our future, because I can see a future with you, Rowan.” Moving so that she could look Rowan in the eye, Aelin took the deepest plunge imaginable and told him, “I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.”

The smile he gave her was the most beautiful she'd ever seen. “I love you, too, Aelin.” Reaching down to kiss her, all of Aelin's doubts melted away. When he pulled back, Rowan said softly, “If you wish to ask, I'll say yes. Because I see a future with you too. You're the one for me.”

“Rowan, can I move in with you?”

He kissed her again. “Yes, you can.”

Aelin's cheeks were started to become sore from all her smiling. Maybe it was a good thing after all that she ended up living here.

Hours later, after another bad movie and celebrating the new milestone in their relationship (which was mainly Aelin laughing as she rode Rowan because he kept forgetting about his injured hand), Aelin and Rowan got ready for bed, and as Aelin rested her head on his chest again, she said, “Just to let you know, I'm going to replace your mattress for mine, because yours is hard as stone.”

“That's exactly why I'm letting you move in, I'm in the market for a new mattress.”

Aelin playfully whacked his chest and muttered what a buzzard he was, but soon fell asleep with a smile on her face, ready for her future with Rowan.

[jamiespoppinss]

dani and jamie fanfics (ao3)

Miss Clayton - Jamie meets her little brother Mikey's new teacher, Miss Clayton and instantly falls head over heals for her. Snapshots of Dani, Jamie and Mikey's life together.

Our moments fall around us like confetti - A collection of moments from Dani and Jamie's life together.

Chosen Family - After leaving America and moving to England for a fresh start, Dani Clayton finds out that she's pregnant and what she had thought would be the loneliest journey for her to take, actually leads her to find her chosen family.

Do you want some company - Dani is stuck in her small hometown working a dead-end job at a rundown motel hoping to save up to go to college one day to become a teacher when she meets Jamie, a young truck driver who stops to help her when her truck breaks down one afternoon. When they realise that they could both use a little company, they come up with a solution. But how long will it last before one of them catches feelings? Or the trucker/friends with benefits au that nobody asked for.

Dani and Jamie in Lockdown - Snapshots of Dani and Jamie's life in lockdown with their son Mason and their daughter Blake.

My house of stone, your ivy grows (and now I’m covered in you) - Dani and Eddie have just moved to England when Dani meets a beautiful young landscaper who they hire to design their garden and has her questioning everything that she’s ever known. Based on the song ‘ivy’ by Taylor Swift.

and all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for - After Jamie moves to Florida to work for Owen’s pool cleaning company, she meets Dani, a single Mom of two young children who quickly grow attached to the woman who they had hired to clean their pool and very unexpectedly, the feelings are reciprocated. Neither Jamie nor Dani were looking for a relationship but things very quickly start to blossom between the pair after a little push from Ben and Ava. or, the milf dani and pool cleaner jamie au that absolutely no one asked for!

what died didn't stay dead (you’re alive in my head) - After a life changing event at work, bomb disposal officer Jamie Taylor-Clayton struggles to deal with her grief and the life that she once knew being turned upside down. After starting a concerning downward spiral of poor choices and destructive coping mechanisms, her wife, daughter and friends fight hard to get her back, but will the old Jamie that everyone knew and loved be able to find her way back to her family before she pushes them too far? Or the bomb disposal au that nobody asked for!

‘Tis The Damn Season - Dani is reluctant to travel home for the weekend to attend her Mother's wedding but Dani is glad she did when she bumps into her friend Jamie. Based on 'Tis The Damn Season by Taylor Swift.

The world through your lens - Jamie, a florist with a passion for photography, has her life turned upside down after a chance encounter with a young woman who gives her photography, as well as her life, new meaning.

Dani and Jamie’s 10 Year Anniversary - Dani and Jamie celebrate their 10 year anniversary together.

A Loving Home - Dani and Jamie's fostering journey. Set six years after they had first met (set in present times) and follows their journey to becoming foster parents, the children they foster, the challenges they face and the little family that they create.

This Precious Life of Ours - Series of Damietober one shots.

and one the flame of love ignites, it’s beyond your control - Dani, a dedicated and enthusiastic primary school teacher, had adapted to her new life in the sleepy and quaint town of Bly well. It had been five years since she had left her hometown in search of happiness, a better career and to find herself and she had achieved everything that she had intended to, although for a while, she had felt like there was still something missing. However, that had all changed when Jamie, a charismatic and endearing firefighter unexpectedly came into her life and she finally understood the meaning of love.

i can’t say ‘hello’ to you, and risk another ‘goodbye’ - After losing her wife, Jamie and her daughter Clover, find comfort and routine in going to their local library each day whilst trying to come to terms with their loss. It is there where they meet Dani, the new librarian coming to terms with a loss of her own and beginning a new life in England, and a relationship soon forms, despite both of them being apprehensive to love again.

[theradioghost]

Do you have any podcast recs that are super easy for those of us with audio processing problems? For me specifically that means one voice (or maybe two if they’re very distinct) and minimal complexity in the soundscaping, though if you have recs that don’t fit those that you think might apply to other people w/ different audio processing issues you can talk about those too! :)

I can certainly try! I feel as though I should put it out there that I often have a difficult time gauging where a podcast sits re: audio processing/HOH listeners; the literal entirety of my day job is being good at telling what people are saying in audio, and my own audio processing problems mostly just result in my near-inability to keep up with actual plays, so if any of these are misjudgements on those terms I apologize in advance.

* means that I know there are also transcripts available for the podcast in question!

SAYER: scifi dark comedy/horror. In a morally questionable tech corporation’s moonbase facilities, advanced artificial intelligence SAYER directs employees about their daily routines; this then turns over time into possibly the best story about AI I’ve ever heard. Especially in the first three seasons, virtually all speaking is done by one voice. (Caveat that a few other characters come in later, and they’re actually all voiced by one guy with different filters, but the filters are pretty distinct and characters tend to identify themselves by default at the beginning of every conversation.)

*The Cryptonaturalist: comforting supernatural folksiness. The titular expert on all things strange and wonderful reads poetry, admires nature, and talks about wonderful creatures like foxes that live within library shelves, stick insects that camouflage themselves as whole trees, salamanders that swim in parking lot asphalt, and Owls.

*The Hidden Almanac: comforting supernatural weirdness. Hagiographer, avid gardener, and Mysterious Dude In Plague Doctor Getup known as Reverend Mord gives tidbits of the history of his strange and fantastical world, along with gardening advice. Sometimes his tequila-swigging accidental necromancer best friend coworker Pastor Drom shows up. Written by fantasy author Ursula Vernon and mostly voiced by her husband Kevin. Extremely relaxing to listen to; the show ended last year but they put out five-minute episodes three times a week for eight years so there’s plenty of it. The first year or so actually doesn’t appear on most podcatchers so maybe check out the website.

Everything Is Alive: poignant, heartfelt interviews with inanimate objects. While there’s a different object featured each episode, it’s mostly just them and the interviewer, plus occasional phone calls with an expert on some subject brought up during the interview. Hits so much harder than you could possibly imagine given the summary. You WILL be upset about a can of off-brand cola.

*Quid Pro Euro: bizarre comedy mockumentary. A satire of the European Union in the style of a set of instructional tapes for EU employees made in the ‘90s, predicting what the EU would look like in the 21st century. Their predictions are somewhat off. Only one voice and delightfully it is Felix Trench. I don’t know anything about the EU but I still think it’s hilarious.

*Glasgow Ghost Stories: spooky supernatural. A resident of Glasgow is unexpectedly able to see the many ghosts that reside in the city -- but the ghosts have started to notice her too, and not all of them are friendly. A beautiful and atmospheric single-voice show; plus the feed also contains the very good miniseries Tracks.

*Palimpsest: poetic and haunting. An anthology series about young women experiencing supernatural happenings, each 10-episode season tells a different story in monologue (I think there are literally two episodes with other voices in them). Poignant, gorgeous, and sometimes heartbreakingly sad in the best way. In season one Anneliese wonders about the strange neighbors at her new apartment. In season two, Ellen takes a new job as companion to a supposed fairy princess imprisoned in a strange showroom in turn of the century America. In season three, former codebreaker Josie begins to see the spirits of the dead on the streets of London during the Blitz.

*Within the Wires: alternate history scifi found footage. From a world where a calamitous global war resulted in the installation of a new Society where nations and family ties are banned, an anthology of voices telling their stories. Each season is a single voice. Season one, a set of relaxation tapes deliver unexpected instructions to a government prisoner in a strange medical facility. In sSeason two, a series of museum exhibit guides spin out the mystery of two artists and their work. In season three, a government employee dictates notes to his secretary and begins to suspect a plot. In season four, the traveling leader of a secretive cultlike commune leaves sermons for her followers, and instructions for her daughter.

*Alice Isn’t Dead: lesbian americana roadtrip weird horror. Keisha’s wife Alice was missing, presumed dead. Now Keisha is a trucker, traveling the vast American emptiness to seek her out; but she’s about to become embroiled in the same vast secret war that may have drawn away her wife, and she’s not alone on the roads. Starts with one voice, adds a new one each season for a total of three. Also is finished.

*Station Blue: psychological horror. Matthew takes a job as the lone caretaker of an Antarctic research station for several months. This goes about as well as you’d predict. Very much a slow burn, strange, brooding horror of isolation. Heavy themes of mental illness based on the creator’s experiences of bipolar disorder. 

*Mabel: dark, poetic faerietale horror. Live-in caretaker Anna attempts to contact the absent granddaughter of her elderly employer, the lone resident of a strange and ancient house in Ireland. A love story, a haunted house story, a fairy tale with teeth. This one might be hit or miss; it sometimes tends to the abstract a bit, and there’s more soundscaping and some other occasional voices besides the main two protagonists. Definitely worth trying out, though, this is absolutely an underappreciated gem.

*Janus Descending: tragic scifi horror. Two researchers, Peter and Chell, travel alone to a distant planet to survey the ruins of its extinct civilization. Unfortunately, they discover exactly how that civilization died out. Excellent if you like movies like Alien, and also being extremely sad. Only two voices. Really unique story structure: it’s told via the two protagonists’ logs of the events, but you hear Chell’s logs in order, and Peter’s logs in reverse, with their perspectives alternating. The result is a tragedy where technically you know the ending from the start, but it’s told so cleverly that just what happened and how remains a tantalizing, tense, heartbreaking mystery right until the end.

*I Am In Eskew: poetic, surreal horror. Only two voices and few sound effects. David is a man trapped in the twisting, malevolent city of Eskew, where the rain always falls, streets seem to lead the same way twice, and nothing can be trusted. Riyo is an investigator, making her way through rumors and questions in search of a man long missing and a place that seems not to exist. Maybe my favorite horror media ever? Deeply disturbing and yet even the most awful things are somehow beautiful. Like if Lynch, Escher and Mieville had a terrible, wonderful baby.

*Tides: contemplative hard scifi. When biologist Dr. Eurus is wrecked alone on a distant alien world shaped by deadly tidal forces, her struggle to survive also becomes a meditative exploration of the ecosystem around her, and a recognition that here, she is the alien. Mostly it’s Dr. Eurus; sometimes you hear from her coworkers. It’s got Julia Schifini, what’s not to love?

*Midnight Radio: ghost story/romance. A 1950s radio host who broadcasts a late-night show to her small hometown begins to receive letters from a listener and respond to them on air. I wrote this! It has a total of three voice actors and virtually no soundscaping. I promise it’s good.

[scared-aquarius]

signs as haunted places in Texas

(This post is part of a series where I assign haunted places from each state to the signs)

Aries: Highway 281, between Johnson City and Blanco TX- On August 24, 1885 in Blanco County, Al Lackey went on a murderous rampage, killing six of his family members including his mother, father, brother, daughter, niece and sister-in-law with a shotgun. After slaying these six, he went home and attempted to murder his wife and baby with a knife, however, the wife ran and after his attempt to chase her down failed, he cut his own throat. This did not kill him, however, and he wrapped his wound with a bandana. On horseback, he rode towards town, finding his neighbor who, unaware of the murders just committed, rode alongside him. He noticed the red bandana and thought it was simply red in color, not blood-soaked. During the ride, Lackey lunged at the man, cutting him several times but he, too, managed to escape. The sheriff eventually caught Lackey and after being tended to by physicians was brought to jail. On August 26, two days after his rampage, a mob of 50-60 people marched down to the jail and broke him out, demanding he pay for his crimes. They rode until they found a tree at a halfway-point between Blanco and Johnson City, which supposedly runs parallel to the current Highway 281, and hanged Lackey. The rope they used was thinner than rope normally used for hangings which prolonged the strangulation. The rope also dug deep into the laceration that was already present in his throat which caused him to bleed heavily onto his shirt. The sheriff found the body the next day and, with none of his surviving family members willing to claim him, he was buried in a pauper’s grave somewhere in Blanco. To this day, people report seeing a man with a red bandana and bearing Lackey’s physical description hitchhiking between Johnson City and Blanco, especially at late hours. Those who have stopped to help him claim he was holding a knife. Truckers and locals claim to not like driving down the road at night and they know not to pick up any hitchhikers on that stretch between Johnson City and Blanco. And now you do, too.

Taurus: Spaghetti Warehouse, Houston TX- Built around the turn of the 20th century, the building, originally called the Desel-Boettcher warehouse, started out housing fur pelts and then some years later it was owned by a pharmaceutical company. It was not until 1973 that it became the Spaghetti Warehouse. A former employee of the pharmacy involved in a freak accident as well as his wife are said to haunt the restaurant. The employee was said to be very busy one night and grabbed a stack of paperwork off his desk as he was rushing to get home. As he headed back to the elevator, he was not paying attention and walked into what he thought was the elevator but was actually an open elevator shaft. Having not returned home, his wife hurried to the warehouse looking for him only to find his body crumpled at the bottom of the elevator shaft. Traumatized and brokenhearted, she too tragically passed away only one year later. Today, their spirits are said to occupy the second floor of the warehouse. The restaurant is riddled with activity according to staff members, particularly during late-night hours, including full-bodied apparitions, bottles of wine inexplicably falling off shelves, disembodied voices calling employees’ names, guest’s hair being tugged on and shoulders being tapped. The wife is also said to rearrange furniture and make a mess of organized dishes and silverware. Guests have reported feeling ill or tingly as soon as reaching the second floor. Another spirit said to haunt the building is a former frequent guest. A man in his mid-fifties who was struck by a car outside the restaurant can sometimes be seen by employees, seated in the restaurant one moment and then gone the next.

Gemini: Miss Molly’s Hotel, Fort Worth TX- The building itself was built in 1910, serving as a hotel called The Palace Rooms for those who traveled by the new railroad. During Prohibition, it’s named changed to the Oasis and served as a speakeasy. By the 1940s, it was called The Gayette Hotel and acted as a bordello that mostly served cowboys and locals. This was a dark period for the building as many ill-spoken deeds and rumors of some of the prostitutes meeting unfortunate ends circulated. Eventually, under new management, the building stopped serving as a bordello and was split with the first floor serving as the Star Cafe and the second floor serving as a hotel- Miss Molly’s Hotel. Many of the ghosts who haunt the hotel are thought to be those who were present during its time as a bordello. Full-bodied apparitions have been seen, for example, that of a young girl around the age of nine has been seen in the former owner’s rooms. No one knows exactly who she is but she is believed to be a former tenant. One hotel guest claimed to wake up in the middle of the night with a pale blonde woman sitting at the edge of his bed. She is believed to be the ghost of a former working girl. There is also a tipping ghost who is said to leave coins in recently cleaned rooms. One cleaning lady even quit because she was frightened by this entity and did not want to risk having it attach itself to her. Throughout the hotel, unexplainable shadows and cold spots are frequently encountered. Strange smells are also present, with some being described as toilet water while others are described as smelling like women's perfume, perhaps from the hotel’s time as a bordello. Some of the hotel’s mischievous entities are also known to move guest’s belongings, play with their lights at night and make loud bangs in their room.

Cancer: Littlefield House, Austin TX- Located on the campus of the University of Texas, the Victorian-style home was built for Civil War veteran and businessman George Littlefield and his wife, Alice, in 1893. Throughout their life, they donated a lot of their money to the school and therefore became special figures for the college. It is said that for a long period of time, Alice had been locked in the attic to keep her safe from Union soldiers during the war. Because of this, Alice developed a severe mental illness and was constantly afraid she would be kidnapped or murdered. She was prone to nervous fits of hysteria, sometimes having to be restrained. Despite being told she should be admitted to a sanatorium, her husband instead kept her home and hired three nurses. After George’s death in 1920, Alice was devastated, but over time her mental state improved. She was able to become more social again and would host parties at the home but was rarely ever seen outside again. When Alice died in 1935, she left the house to the university where it is now used to hold classes on the first floor and house offices on the second. However, some believed that Alice never left and is trying to reclaim her home. Shortly after her death, full-bodied apparitions were seen throughout the house, colds spots were frequently felt and sounds of running, screams of fright and other eerie noises could be heard coming from the second floor and staircase nightly. Things are also said to be misplaced often as if Alice is trying to put her home back to the way it was before her death. Many students claim to hear her play the piano in her upstairs bedroom and her face can sometimes be seen peering out the window. While it may seem unsettling, many students refer to her as Aunt Alice and see her as a comforting and benevolent spirit.

Leo: Hotel Galvez, Galveston TX- The Galvez Hotel opened its doors in 1911 and is still in operation today. During WWII, however, the building was occupied by the US Coast Guard and no rooms were rented out to visitors. Over the years, many famous people had been guests there, including Jimmy Stewart, Howard Hughes, Frank Sinatra, and Franklin D. Roosevelt. In the mid-50s is when tragedy struck at the hotel. A woman in her mid-20s named Audra was planning on getting married to her fiancé, a mariner who sailed in and out of the Port of Galveston. She stayed in room 505 while she waited for his return back from sea. One day, after a terrible storm, his ship did not arrive when it was due in port. Audra heard that the ship had gone down and that there were no survivors. Stricken with grief, she hung herself. Not even a week had passed when her fiancé came back, having survived the sinking of the ship, only to find that she had taken her own life. Staff and guests alike have reported hearing Audra running up and down the hallways looking for her husband-to-be as well as hearing crying and doors slamming shut in the middle of the night. Strange smells and visions of orbs are also reported throughout the hotel. Staff have also reported seeing a young girl bouncing a ball in the lower level of the hotel and the housekeeping staff say that there is the ghost of a man who stands in the corner of the laundry room. There are also reports in the lobby and restaurant such as candles blowing out on their own and dishes moving and breaking. Heavy breathing and children’s laughter are said to be heard in some of the hotel bathrooms. After Hurricane Ike in 2008, some staff had to stay at the hotel while their homes were being repaired and many claimed to see a woman in an old maid’s uniform accompanied by a man walk through a guest room and disappear. 

Virgo: El Paso High School, El Paso TX- This high school has been in use since it’s opening in 1916. In 1922-23, its name was changed to Sam Houston High School at the bidding of a local chapter of the KKK but was quickly changed back after community outrage. During both World Wars, the basement of the school worked as an overflow morgue, taking in bodies of soldiers as well as Spanish Flu victims. Throughout the years, students and faculty exploring the basement have discovered classrooms from the early 20th century in seemingly untouched condition yet blocked off, with no reason given by the school administration for the hasty remodeling. There are also reports of slamming doors and “spectral pep rallies and games” occurring in the gym, only to discover the gym is empty upon further inspection. A teacher at the high school once reported seeing a girl in an old blue dress at the end of a hallway one night and instructed her to go home as it was late. He claims that when approaching her, she turned around, gave him a sorrowful look and then slowly vanished before his eyes. Another ghost girl is also said to be seen throughout the school, her identity being tied to that of a student from the 80s who slit her wrists and then jumped off a balcony which is now walled off along with the hallway and stairwell leading to it. Despite this, multiple people have claimed to still see a girl standing on that balcony. A famous class picture of the 1985 graduating class may capture this ghost girl as her face is considerably more blurry than the rest and no one can seem to identify her.

Libra: The White Sanitarium, Wichita Falls TX- Built in 1926, this sanitarium was made for those who were mentally insane. The founder, Frank S. White, wanted to create a place where instead of being locked in cells, the patients were free to roam and live a non-institutional lifestyle. He wanted it to be a home, not a prison. He only operated the sanitarium for about 5 years, though, as he himself had fallen ill. By the 1950s, the building was flooded and badly damaged so it was abandoned and sat vacant for another 50 years. It is believed that some patients never left, perhaps due to the now-banned medical practices on the mentally ill of the past which left patients permanently injured or worse. Those who have visited the site since it’s foreclosure have claimed to see glowing ends of cigarettes as well as full-bodied apparitions of patients in hospital gowns. There is also said to be a lady in white who roams the halls and looks out the windows of the abandoned building. Reports of children’s voices are heard and lights are said to sometimes be seen coming from the sanitarium even though there is no running electricity there. There is also a group of men who are known to be seen on the property playing a game of poker every now and then. Visitors have said they feel strange cold spots and feel a general “heaviness” in the air. People who claim to be skeptics have said their beliefs are shaken after visiting there as they cannot explain their experiences. Today, the building has been remodeled and transformed into apartment units.

Scorpio: The Jefferson Hotel, Jefferson TX- In 1851, the building was built originally as a warehouse to support the booming cotton industry. It is unclear whether the building became a hotel, with some speculating it was during the 1870s and others saying it was as late as 1900. As a hotel, it also served as a brothel as well as a speakeasy during the prohibition era under the name “The Crystal Palace”. The ghostly activity in the building is so frequent that the staff keeps a “book of the dead” at the front desk, with years of recorded activity and experiences within it and new encounters being written by guests to this day. There are at least five different known entities within the hotel’s walls. The first is a tall man wearing boots and a long coat who can frequently be seen by both staff and guests. The identity of the man is unknown. While he has never proven to be malevolent, guests find him incredibly unsettling as many times he can be seen sitting or standing in their rooms at night. The apparition is so solid and recurrent, some guests have claimed they had followed him down hallways thinking he was another guest only to turn a corner and see him vanish. The second known entity is a beautiful woman nicknamed Libby. Her exact identity is unknown, however, staff can agree that she is either the spirit of a woman named Elizabeth or Lydia. Both women were pregnant and stood up on their wedding day and subsequently both hung themselves from the hotel bed’s tall headboard. These suicides happened 50 years apart. Libby’s appearance is what points to either of these women being the spirit as she is said to wear a bridal gown and have golden blonde hair. She seems to appear in front of male guests traveling alone most frequently. While she doesn’t haunt a specific room, she seems to be attached to a bed which has moved to different rooms over the years, specifically room 12,14 and 19. Room 19 also houses another ghost, that of a teenage girl who was stabbed to death by a client during the hotel’s brothel years and left in the bathtub. She is said to appear in the mist when people are showering and writes messages, pleas for help and sometimes warmings, on the bathroom mirror. She is known as Judy as the name has been seen among her scribbles. The last two known entities are those of a young boy and girl around age 7 in 19th century period clothing who can frequently be seen chasing each other and can be heard laughing. They are thought to be casualties of the cotton warehouse. Despite their laborious lives and sad deaths, they are known to have fun by pulling pranks on guests by moving small items and turning lights on and off.

Sagittarius: USS Lexington, Corpus Christi TX- Nicknamed “The Blue Ghost”, the USS Lexington is an aircraft carrier built for the US Navy during WW2 in 1942. The ship got the nickname “The Blue Ghost” because of her tendency to reappear after reportedly being sunk, as well as her dark blue color for camouflage purposes. It was decommissioned in 1991 and is now docked, serving as a naval museum. Many spirits of soldiers are said to roam the decks of the ship. During WW2, a Japanese plane struck the ship near the engine room, killing many. Some employees of the museum claim to see figures frantically running as if trying to get to position to defend and maintain their ship. A security guard says that running footsteps can be heard frequently, especially in the early hours of the morning. Disembodied voices and screams are also heard and both staff and guests report being touched. A known ghost on the ship is a man in a sailor uniform who helps guests find their way back to the deck. Another who resides in the engine room is said to give lectures on how the turbines work before vanishing into thin air. Charles Reustle, a director at the museum who has worked on the ship for 26 years, is a skeptic but has had his own fair share of strange experiences. He claims that over a course of a few weeks, he kept losing his pen cap. After the sixth time, he turned his room over but still could not find it. The next morning, he found all six caps lined up on his desk. He believes a spirit may have been playing a prank on him. With the museum receiving hundreds of reports of supernatural activity a year, the executive director of the museum, Steve Banta, says that there are too many accounts that “there has to be something to it”.

Capricorn: Yorktown Memorial Hospital, Yorktown TX- This hospital opened its doors in 1951 and was run by the Felician Sisters, a group of nuns who kept the hospital open until 1986. The building was named in honor of those lost their lives in WWII. Under the care of the nuns, 500 patients died within the first 6 years the hospital was open. It reopened as a drug rehabilitation center but then closed again for good in 1992. Roughly 2000 people have died within the walls of the hospital and is known to be one of the most haunted hospitals in Texas. One employee by the name of Dr. Leon Norweirski was responsible for multiple deaths- he became known for his fatal mistakes during operations. In one patient’s case, he accidentally cut a patient’s throat while operating on his thyroid. This doctor’s mistakes may be a reason why the hospital is so active. There is a ghost of an eight-year-old girl named Stacy known to roam her old room on the first floor, basement hallways, and sometimes is seen in the library. Her favorite book to read during her life was “The Poky Little Puppy” which supposedly was given to her by none other than Dr. Leon Norweirski. She is known to be a playful spirit and supposedly will roll a ball if you ask her to. A few nuns seem to have stuck around as well, although some of them are known to be violent. Visitors have claimed to be scratched, choked, rushed at, and people with tattoos, piercings or other body modifications seem to be especially targeted. Another spirit is that of a man named Doug Richards. He was a heavy equipment mechanic who died there in 1973 and not much is known of his ghost but people say you know it’s him by his tall appearance and his white t-shirt and blue jeans outfit. During its time as a rehab center, a man who some call TJ came during late hours seeking help. When he rang the back-door bell, no one answered- whether the doorbell stopped working or the nurse on duty had fallen asleep, TJ didn’t get help fast enough and his body was found on the steps the next morning. His apparition can be seen today wandering the hall near the back door. Lastly, blood is still visible on the walls of the boiler room from a double murder that occurred after a stabbing due to a love triangle between a female employee, a co-worker and a patient. The hospital is also home to other less well-known entities and strange anomalies such as shadow people, full bodied-apparitions and top-notch EVPS. It is also said that disembodied voices and screams can be heard coming from the delivery ward.

Aquarius: Six Flags Over Texas, Arlington TX- After a trip to Disneyland in 1959, real estate developer Angus G. Wynne Jr. decided he wanted to build a rival theme park in his own state. Opening in 1961, the park was a huge success. By the 1970s, Six Flags Over Texas had expanded and added new rides and phased out old ones and by the 80s it was operating almost year-round. It had become one of the nation’s fastest-growing theme parks. However, despite its years of success, it still has its fair share of dark times and mishaps. On August 8, 1968, the park experienced its first ride-related death. Ride Operator John Raymond Nelson was only a high school senior when he accidentally lost his balance while unloading passengers on the El Sombrero. He fell into the pit beneath the ride and was rushed to Arlington Memorial Hospital where he was pronounced dead. In 1999, a 29-year-old woman drowned on a river rafting ride after her raft unexpectedly deflated and flipped. She was trapped underneath and drowned in 2-3 feet of water. A 64-year-old woman also drowned in 2011 after being found unresponsive in the lazy river. She was taken to the hospital and pronounced dead. Lastly, in 2013, a 52-year-old woman fell to her death while riding the New Texas Giant roller coaster after her seat restraint malfunctioned. Because of its history of death, it’s unsurprising that the park is known to be haunted. Ghost sightings have been reported all throughout the park as well as cold spots and sensations of being touched. While most paranormal activity is sporadic, there is one ghost known as Annie who is said to haunt a yellow house by the New Giant Texas roller coaster entrance as well as a candy store within the park. Believed to have passed in the early 1900s after drowning in nearby Johnson’s Creek, her spirit is said to be friendly and a bit mischievous. Lights in the yellow house are known to turn off and on with no one around, curtains open and close and doors slam shut unexpectedly. According to employees, doors also seem to not remain locked. She can also sometimes be seen by guests walking along the tracks in the Mine Train attraction.

Pisces: Frio River, Rio Frio TX- In the early 1900s, a woman named Maria Juanez was murdered by her brother-in-law, Gregorio, on the banks of the Frio River. Gregorio had fallen in love with her and after confessing this to her, she rejected him- she was already in love with a man named Anselmo. Often, Maria and Anselmo would meet down by the river bank at night. On one of these nights, while waiting for Anselmo, Gregorio decided to confront Maria to profess his love. After the rejection, he shot her with a pistol out of rage. Upon realizing what he had done, he hid underneath a large pile of hay in a barn until the next morning when he was found by angry townsfolk. Gregorio was tried for the murder of Maria Juanez and was found guilty, spending the rest of his life in prison. Maria had always dreamed of marrying Anselmo and having children of her own as she had loved caring for her sister’s children, however, that dream never became a reality. Instead, she was buried in a wedding dress along the Frio River, where some say she still roams to this day. She is said to be a very kind spirit, helping lost children, comforting them, or sitting at the edge of their bed at night to protect them. People who claim to have seen her say she is dressed in all white, being nicknamed “The White Lady”, and sometimes she is seen walking down the middle of the river in a mist or fog-like form. One man who cannot swim even claims that Maria saved him from falling into the river. He reported that as he fell back after slipping on a rock, he felt an unseen force push him back to an upright position.

New Jersey

Pennsylvania

Let me know what state I should research next...)

[hellzyeahwebwieldingreviews]

Untold Tales of Spider-Man 07: Moving Day – by John S. Drew

Pretty good.

May Parker looks at the packed boxes in her bedroom and feels a great sadness. Even though she wants to move in with Anna Watson, she knows how much she will miss Peter and she's reminded of her late husband, Ben. "The move made his absence all the more obvious and painful." She shows Peter the last family portrait they all took before Ben's murder. Peter tells her the moving van is waiting outside. (But this isn't a moving van for May's stuff, since, after all, she's only moving next door. This is a moving van for Peter's stuff as he joins Harry in a Manhattan apartment.) Harry Osborn, Mary Jane Watson, and Gwen Stacy are waiting outside. The truck driver, Joe, tells them he has another job after this one and needs to get moving. So, Pete tells May she's riding in the truck with Joe while he, Harry, MJ, and Gwen take the subway.As the truck heads toward the 59th Street Bridge, Joe regales May with stories, like the time he walked out on New York's master builder Robert Moses (the man behind the Triborough Bridge, West Side Highway, Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and so on). May barely listens. She's lost in memories of her house: when she and Ben signed the papers, when Peter came to live with them, Peter's first Christmas there when Ben bought him a bike, which Peter took apart and put back together again.The traffic comes to a standstill. May's memories proceed up to the night Ben was killed which so wounded her that she never went near Ben's armchair and was never able to open the window through which the Burglar came through again. Joe spies a super-hero battle taking place by the Chrysler Building and hopes it involves Daredevil. "I like Daredevil," he explains. Joe turns on the radio to find out what's what and learns that Spider-Man is fighting Mysterio. May is not thrilled. "Criminals like this Mysterio or the Sandman are captured by the Avengers and the Fantastic Four," she says, "Why is Spider-Man so special?" Joe doesn't know but he thinks, "Spidey's all right." As the battle continues, May can stand no more. She turns off the radio, much to Joe's exasperation. "I can't listen to this anymore," she says, "It's horrible! And to think that Peter is moving into all this! It's bad enough that he takes pictures of Spider-Man to make a living!" Joe is thrilled to learn that Peter takes Spidey photos. Then he tells May about his sister Veronica who wanted to be a trucker even though everyone told her it was not a woman's job. This gets May's back up. "If she's good at driving a truck and fancies it, what's to stop her?" she says. Joe thinks so too. He's joining up with his sister in another month. May doesn't think this all applies to Peter because Norman Osborn will be paying the apartment rent and Peter won't need the money. But Joe says, "Some people work just 'cause they like it."Suddenly the battle travels in their direction and Spider-Man lands on the hood of Joe's truck. Spidey looks in at May. She thinks there is something almost familiar about him. When Mysterio gets the upper hand, planning to throw Spidey off the bridge, Joe rushes out of his truck and attacks the villain. Hardly fazed, Mysterio grabs Joe, until Spidey wades in again. Mysterio disappears and Spidey shakes Joe's hand. As they continue into the city, May worries that Joe could have gotten himself killed. Joe tells her that "we all have to do what we can to help in this world." May realizes that "Peter is just like his Uncle" and would have stepped in like Joe did to help Spider-Man. This is why she's so worried about him but she also realizes that it is time to loosen the apron strings a little.May and Joe arrive at the Manhattan apartment and Peter is there to meet them. Harry, Gwen, and MJ show up and wonder where Pete disappeared to when the subways were halted for the fight. Peter "admits" that he snuck out and took pictures of the battle. May starts to lecture him, until Joe interrupts. Taking Joe's hint, she backs off.That night back at her house, May looks in Peter's empty room. She pulls out the picture of Ben and sheds a tear. "I'm trying, Ben," she says, "but it's so hard." Anna Watson pops in to tell her that it's time for dinner over at her house. May puts Ben's picture back in the crate it's in, then changes her mind, and takes it along with her.

As has become a pattern with this anthology every story moves a little bit forward on Spidey’s timeline. Unlike the other stories this story firmly occurs in the early Romita era. However it does somewhat contradict details. It you consult ASM #46 the events of this story just don’t slot in very well. But as I’ve also pointed out this book is less about presenting canonical tales but more stories that take a generalized view of the character.

In other words we know Peter moved out of Ben and May’s home eventually. The specifics aren’t what this story is about it’s about taking that fact and making a story out of it.

It’s a pretty decent story too. Nothing fancy and it does sort of touch upon similar ground that the prior tory touched upon. What makes this work is that it’s entirely from Aunt May’s POV. This book has also been touching upon corners of the Spider-Man mythos and I suppose this short story was the chance to do that with Aunt May. The other stories have used her, even made her critical to the plot, but they were Peter’s story and this is truly her story.

Its poignant because it also touches upon a realistic event in many people’s lives, moving away from home. What was novel was that it put the emphasis upon the parent not the young person growing up. Your child leaving the nest is for sure an often painful experience for parents make no mistake. This perfectly captures that experience. 

I also liked the cab driver. A nice, simple, down to Earth character that fits well into Spidey’s world.

I suppose I prefer other stories in this anthology but it works for what it is.

P.S. The timeline is also off in regards to Mysterio. It claims he appeared months ago but circa ASM it actually would’ve been years.

[herwildwhisper]

stats: Mar Sandoval, 31 (b. September 19th, 1988.) she/hers (cis.) species: human occupation: mountain guide

alignment: chaotic good veering on chaotic neutral.

+ resilient. loyal. affectionate. capable. perceptive. – aloof. destructive. willful. bitter. blunt.

personality

a half-dry, charming-ish sensibility. “take no shit. do harm if they push you far enough.” values honesty, even if it hurts – this does not mean she’s capable of following through personally (looking at you, Sam.) kind, but not sweet. guarded. could use a friend or five, even if she’s convinced herself she’s better off alone.

aesthetic

widow, née [REDACTED.] whiskey aunt, not wine mom. indeterminate drawl. two dozen bad coping mechanisms in a trench coat, struggling to become a person. kinder than she lets on. angrier than you think she is. looking for answers without knowing the questions. inheriting a mystery; continuing the sketchbooks. a wedding ring on a simple chain. learning to count down from a hundred when all you want is to plant your fist in someone’s face. surviving out of spite. living with loss.

history

( tw physical/verbal domestic / child abuse, self-destructive behaviour, self-harm, death of a spouse, mentions of suicide. tl;dr at the end )

BLACKROCK, MT. EARLY MARCH 2011.

For a few years, the Sandoval house has stood empty. Mrs. Sandoval passed away in 2008, and no one managed to track down her son. He left town back in ‘03, a couple years after his father died in an accident, and since then, no one in town has seen hide nor hair of him – not even his pack.

And then, eight years after Dante Sandoval left his family and home behind, his widow shows up in town.

She’s young, too young; only 22. Dark-eyed and dark-haired and dark-minded. She smiles too much, and then she smiles too little. Is the kind of woman who shows up alone at the bar. The kind of woman who tells you to fuck off if she thinks you’re getting too close, too handsy, even if you don’t agree – and very few like that. She gets a job as a mountain guide, and then they don’t see much of her. The house she inherits is left behind like a carcass, just another unpleasant memory as summer stretches on. Then snow shuts down the mountain, and she returns, much to their disappointment. She’s remained a stranger ever since.

(Towns like Blackrock don’t like strangers. Towns like Blackrock don’t like women like Mar Sandoval.)

THE PAST, NOT AS DISTANT AS SHE’D LIKE.

Her parents tried, she thinks. Tried to love her, to love each other, but the bottle won out and the damage was done, their home broken into jagged pieces. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking; maybe they were bickering tyrants from the start, and she just didn’t want it to be true. It didn’t matter where they moved, Texas to Louisiana to Florida – same shit, different scenery. She grew up amidst screaming matches and plates shattered against the wall. Under the constant pressure, Mar fractured, too. She sharpened her edges to survive. Came home with bloody knuckles, and left for school with fresh bruises. She learned the tenets of life from people who had no business teaching it to her: to use leverage, to find meaning in whatever meagre thing you could control, to find fear as natural as breathing. To read a room the moment you walk in. To always look three moves ahead. To take the blame. Even when everything in you was screaming that it wasn’t your fault. To hate yourself for both. That if you excused it all as love, it was okay.

At school, she could be the one giving out beatings, whether they were earned or not. It wasn’t that she always started the fights, though she did that too – but she’d finish them, schoolyard scraps turning into brawling matches when Mar got involved. She was never loud, but she was always angry, rage simmering beneath her skin, a buzzcut saw waiting for an accident, looking for release. A bruise was a bruise was a bruise; it didn’t matter if she left it herself, so long as she could control how it got there, whether through someone else’s fist or her own. Her mind stirred into a constant, exhausting frenzy by thoughts she didn’t have the words for, yet: if you love me, if you love each other, why is it like this?

She left home at 19, slamming the door behind her on her way out, and she never looked back. No plan, no route. She’d never been further north than Atlanta, so it seemed like a good place to start. Got a job as a waitress, saved up every little bit she could, before she left Georgia to continue her trek north. Turned 20 in Tennessee, still no plan in sight – and then, right as she was considering her options, she met Dante.

He wasn’t her first, but he was the first one that mattered. A couple years older, from a small town in Montana, with kind eyes and a nice smile and hands that were firm but gentle. He always had a sketchbook on him; studies of the mountain trail, birds and flowers. No sudden movements. Never raised his voice. He didn’t mind her sharp edges, but before she knew it, they’d been sanded down – still present, but softer than they’d ever been, and better for it. She fell faster than she should have. So did he.

They spent the next few years working as guides on the Appalachian Trail, getting their certificates, and along the way, they got married. Began to plan their future, with a whole life ahead of them that they would share. It was Dante that taught her to be patient, that taught her love had never been – should never be – about leverage, that fear was a cruel thing to cause in someone else. And maybe she was a work in progress, but hey, Mar, so am I.

In retrospect, they both had their secrets. He would tell her about Blackrock with a fondness in his voice, and she would curb her tongue – if you love it so much, why did you leave? She shared what she could with him. Let him reassure her when she faltered, when the things she’d buried came crawling to the surface, when it felt like all the love in the world couldn’t stop her from becoming a black hole that would tear itself apart. They made it work. They were happy. Hopeful.

And then Dante died. Disappeared, technically. But they found his body a week later. Gunshot wound, weapon nearby. Coroner ruled it a suicide, despite Mar’s protests; Dante wouldn’t leave me– there was nothing wrong– why would he–

The pieces they'd mended were broken, and she was left alone with the wreckage, sharp and heavy. Dante would never have done that to her. He wouldn’t have. Couldn’t have.

She traveled west in their beat-up car, his ashes and their hiking gear secured in the back. Got her stupid, grief-ridden kicks out of asking obnoxious truckers if her husband could watch, only to let them face the urn. Laughed until she cried when they ran from the ‘crazy bitch’. Came to Blackrock with no intention of staying, only to find herself the recipient of a rickety old house full of family pictures she had no context for, heirlooms and trinkets; memories that weren’t her own, that had nothing to do with her.

And, of course, the collection of sketchbooks depicting wolves. All different sorts, snouts and pelt colours and scars, signed D. Sandoval. The torn old henley at the bottom of a chest down in the basement. The shredded remains of an old journal, the scratch marks by the kitchen door.

BLACKROCK, MT. 2019.

Lonesome, but not lonely. It’s how she likes it, she’s decided. It’s easier, that way. She’s used to it. Isn’t sure if it’s always been her nature, or if it’s just a force of habit, but she hasn’t stopped to ask herself. Mar keeps company when she feels like it, when winter gets too quiet for her taste, and as soon as the snow’s thawed, she’s gone. Just another ghost, until winter calls her back to Blackrock. She knows what it looks like – she arrives, and so do all the other strange things that haunt the town. (But she’s the only strange thing that’s been spotted near the deputy, and she knows the optics of that, too.) She hasn’t done much to improve the wide-spread impression of her. She’s pleasant enough if you haven’t tested her patience, but she remains distant; keeps most everyone at an arm’s length. It’s easier to not get attached, to not get disappointed, that way. To settle for that long life of lonesome, but not lonely.

There are answers to be found in Blackrock, if only she can find the right questions. She’s sure of it. Someone has to know what happened – why he left, why he died, why someone would kill her husband. But until she can find those questions, she observes. She adds her own sketchbooks to the pile. She takes meticulous notes of all the odd, out-of-place things she sees. And she bides her time.

So Mar Sandoval remains a stranger. Drinks her cocoa with a dash of peppermint liqueur, brings a book to the bar, doesn’t give a shit about small town nosying disguised as small town kindness. Takes up odd jobs at nearby ski centres if the money’s tight, and by summer, she is gone. None of them truly know her. None of them ever will.

tl;dr

grew up in an abusive home; has Issues as a result

certified brawler and troublemaker – currently on the mend, but not before she got a Reputation in Blackrock

met her now-departed husband after leaving home. they got married young AF 

said husband...... was from Blackrock. said husband....... was a werewolf, but Mar is (so far) unaware 

her husband disappeared and was found dead a week later. police ruled it a suicide, Mar did Not Agree

she came to Blackrock in 2011 with a car full of hiking gear and an urn strapped in, a widow at 22. inherited a house full of Weird Things, including sketchbooks filled with drawings of wolves

she had 0 intentions of staying for as long as she has, but she’s convinced the answer to her husband’s death can be found in Blackrock

knows SOMETHING’S up, but not quite what

specific pitches

(aka cherrypick what works for you from my ramblings!)

Redcedar / Teddy

I like to think that Teddy’s parents took care of Mar when she got to town, back in 2011 – maybe they took care of the Sandoval house, or knew the Sandovals?She liked them a good deal, felt grateful for their kindness and indebted to them for it, and with them gone, she sees Teddy as a young woman in a strange town that could maybe need some kindness, too. Mar’s just too awkward to fully commit to it, yet.

Basswood / Sam

It wasn’t necessarily the first reason, and it definitely isn’t the only reason, but a big part of her connection to Sam is that she hopes he could help her piece together the Dante puzzle. It’s not fair, she knows. It’s probably fucked up, asking him to help her figure out what happened to her dead husband, on account of.. whatever it is that they are. She tells herself that’s why she’s yet to really ask him for help with it. This thing between them was never meant to go this far, because now she likes Sam – and that makes her feel guilty, in more ways than one.

Blackthorn / Carson

She sees herself in Carson, sees the woman she used to be, the woman she’s done her best to bury – all fists and venom-veins, ready to set the world on fire. She doesn’t know the cause of Carson’s anger, doesn’t necessarily know Carson all that well in general, but like calls to like. Mar might be trying to reign herself in, these days, but she knows the anger she thinks she sees in Carson, the need for destruction. Pulling them out of that bar was an emotional impulse, one she doesn’t really want to acknowledge: she got cold feet right after. She’s got more on her own plate than she can handle; why did she try to take on someone else’s? That’s why she avoids them now. She has no intention of calling on whatever debt they think they owe her; in her eyes, it was almost selfish to not let nature run its course that night. Almost.

Oak / Diego & older wolves

Dante was 100% a werewolf, and I’d love to potentially plot out the older wolves of the Blackrock pack having known him, if you all are game! They wouldn’t know how much Mar knows about the pack, if she even knows anything, which I think could be a great source of ~drama – especially now that there’s a dead wolf. Diego in particular is someone I think could be cool for this, as he’d be the right age range and would have been there for long enough to have known Dante.

Ash / Romeo

Ash / Romeo is a new face, and Mar knows all-too-well what that’s like. I don’t think she’d be looking for any meaningful friendship, to start with, but I could see her potentially reaching out, just to see who they are, and maybe to let them know that there’s other out-of-towners around.

Sycamore / Eric

Much like herself, Eric doesn’t have a good reputation, though his is probably worse. Depending on his disposition, I could see them being acquaintances, even friends, united by their shared less-than-nice natures, with some drama added in thanks to their respective relations to Sam / Basswood. I also wouldn’t rule out the potential for future hunter plots, depending on where it goes!

wanted connections 

( consider these starting points! if something could work if we tweaked it a little to suit your character more, hit me up 💖 also, in the event that something is filled but you’re interested.... hit me up for that too! we can Work It Out )

witness ( Sam – multiple )

Men who won’t take no for an answer isn’t something Mar puts up with. By now, most of the culprits in town have learned their lesson, and leave her alone. In turn, Mar’s gotten better at using her words.. but back when she first came to town, there’s a good chance her anger got the best of her, resulting in someone walking away with a shiner and a split lip. (Hell, push her far enough, and it might happen now.) She’s good at brawls. MUSE B witnessed one such occasion – did they step in, or leave her to it? How do they feel about it?

ghost ( 0/2 )

MUSE B met Mar before she came to Blackrock: maybe it was years ago, down south, while she was a walking carnage, or maybe MUSE B met the two of them, Mar and Dante, leaving them to reconcile the vastly happier past Mar with the current version.

bruiser ( Raine – 1/? )

Mar and MUSE B traded literal blows a couple years back, and the fist-fight ended with no certain victor and both parties bloodied and bruised. Is there a grudging respect – or is it just a grudge?

reflection ( Lola – 1/2 )

Mar isn’t.. sweet the way some folks are, but there’s a kindness there, one that’s easy to forget what with her reputation and penchant for self-isolation. She helped MUSE B out, and asked nothing in return – maybe she let them sleep on the couch one night when things were rough, or maybe she offered company on an evening it was needed. Maybe it happened a while ago, and there’s a tentative friendship, or maybe it’s fresh!

ex-fwb ( 0/2? )

Mar arrived in 2011, self-destructive and reeling after her husband’s death. mistakes were made. good ones, but still mistakes. MUSE B and Mar had an unspoken thing for a while, before she broke it off. Are they still friends, or are things icy? How serious was it? How does MUSE B feel about the rumoured fling Mar has with the deputy?

[logan-baines]

(Thomas Doherty, 21, male, he/him) The war is about to start LOGAN BAINES. We see that you will be fighting for NEITHER family as a CATACLYST. He reminds me of BLOODY KNUCKLES, BLACK COFFEE, WINDY DAYS, BONFIRES, WHISKEY and PANCAKES WITH MAPLE SYRUP. We wish you luck.

Physical details...

Height: 5′9″

Scars: Burns on arm and shoulder, scars on knuckles, a few small burns and scars around right eye. 

Tattoos: A poke tattoo on the inside of his left wrist. 

Past

TW: Mild sexual harassment near the end

Logan grew up in Chatham Ontario, a small city near Windsor, just across the River from Detroit. Besides biker gangs and factory gigs, there wasn’t much in Chatham, not even for someone as smart as Logan. When he was quite small, it was apparent to his teachers that he was pretty gifted when it came to understanding science and math but not very gifted when it came to understanding his emotions. He was never mean but he would get angry and didn’t know why exactly. Someone would mention going on a family vacation or that their Dad was coming home from a business trip or that they were going to visit their dad...eventually, it became clear what the problem was to everyone but him. 

Logan’s mother did the best she could but the feeling of abandonment by his deadbeat dad left a gaping hole in him that couldn’t be filled up. He tried to fill the empty space with causes, sticking up for kids being bullied on the playground, getting into fights, playing soccer until the more elite kids decided he wasn’t high class enough to play with them. At the end of the day he would watch all the other kids get picked up from school before his mother finally found the time to get him. He didn’t mind the wait, that’s what he told himself, what he could admit he minded was the look of exhaustion etched into his mother’s every feature. It was taking all she had to keep him and herself afloat with their business, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that he was literally killing her. 

Maybe she would be better off without me...

It started out as a small, intrusive thought when he saw her jogging towards him, beyond the small chainlink fence that surrounded the schoolyard. The thought took root and grew with every day, he saw his brilliance as a wasted gift, given to some leach and squandered it, using it to cause trouble. When he was eight, his mischief resulted in him blowing up a school bathroom, a move that almost got him expelled. All the while, his mother didn’t flinch, didn’t yell, she was just there and she was so kind and it infuriated him. 

Why can’t she hate me? 

As grew, he began to start fires, fascinated by the way they could eat up the world around them, the way he wanted to. He eventually started doing drugs, first it was just weed but before too long he was on to much harder substances, chasing oblivion perhaps, trying to get to a place where he didn’t have to feel. All he could see around him was suffering...Logan had started so many fires, he didn’t even notice when they started happening without explanation. The fires eventually caught the attention of the police and eventually, they connected them back to Logan. 

As a teen, he’d been arrested for a fire set behind a laundromat, this one he could not explain but he had been there when it sparked, camera footage attested to it. Without the evidence to convict they let him go, after all, the video didn’t show him starting the fire. The situation was vexing for both Logan and the police, Logan knew he wasn’t exactly innocent but he also knew that certain officers on the force had been gunning for him to end up in jail. As he got older, it seemed their dreams may come true, that their prediction that the troubled kid of a single hardworking mom would fuck up his life so badly he’d do hard time. They might have gotten what they wanted, had things not gotten incredibly weird...

The business his mother ran, was a little inn, a bed n’ breakfast in a city that drew in no tourists. Instead of travellers, The two of them lived in a little apartment in the attic, with two bedrooms and low sloped ceilings. Logan’s room was messy as you might expect but it was also full of books and tinkering projects. If he wasn’t such a waste of space, if he applied himself at school he would have gone on to be an astrophysicist. What he wanted more than anything was to be a part of the push to deep space travel. The inn may have sucked the life out of his mother but it also was his home, not every memory had been bad there and the last thing he wanted to see was the place go up in smoke. 

In the absence of tourists, the inn was filled with truckers, old folks after church on Sunday and on occasion, bikers. On Monday nights, the tables in the dining room would be pushed aside as the space was rented for dance lessons and Wednesdays they hosted the Chatham photography club meetings. Thursday nights was usually when they came, the rowdy ones, the bikers. They got drunk without fail and would hit on his mother but nothing more than a fairly lewd comment was said. As a child they scared him but as an twenty one year old young man with a penchant for fire, they angered him. A comment became a touch, which became a fight in which he was vastly outnumbered, then came the heat and the sparks. 

All around him, his family home and livelihood, it was all being eaten away by frantic tongues of red yellow and orange, the air was filling with smoke and for a moment he wanted to stay in it. His mother called his name and he snapped back to reality, he ran to her, as she ran to him and they managed to escape what was becoming the wreckage of everything. The two of them stood outside in the cold, watching the building become a pillar of flame, they were numb to it though, somehow by this point it just felt like another thing that happened. In the distance Logan could hear the sirens and knew what he was in for. 

Logan spent the night alone in a cell, the next morning, when the door to the holding room was opened, he was confused to see that it was his mother...standing there with a man who seemed to look an awful lot like him...

Present

Logan is currently coming to grips with the fact that he’s a cataclyst and that his father is the boss of those cataclysts who live in Cresthill. After the fire, his father sorted things out with the police and brought him to Cresthill to learn about himself and what he is. Being an illegitimate child, he’s forced to keep his connection to the patriarch a secret so as not to jeopardize his father’s rule over the coven. He lived in a hotel room...for all of five minutes it seemed, almost immediately word got out about who he was and he moved into the family “estate” as they called it.

Logan isn’t used to being on the other side of the tracks, he’s not used to having resources and access to things, what he is used to is feeling like an outsider. He continues to dress as he had before, in used, worn out clothes and he keeps to himself for the most part. His father has him taking online classes to boost his GPA for application to colleges and he’s managed to, much to the chagrin of everyone it seems, score a job at a local auto shop. 

Future?

Logan is...trying but his bad habbits and addictive tendancies are hard to fight. After the fire he wants to be a better person for his mother but it remains to be seen if he can. What Logan has long denied and continues to deny is that he has potential, heaps of it, as a cataclyst, a scientist and generally as a person. Will he self destruct and bring the whole place down with him or rise to the occasion? All of that remains to be seen....

[tarithenurse]

On my mind, in my soul - 18

Prompt: This will be the last chapter and is based on a prompt by @liesje86: “Uhm. “Simple man” the cover with Jensen Ackles, a white sandy beach on Hawaaï or something, and two identical daggers.” Pairing: Loki x Burglar!reader. Content: Swearing as usual, angst, mention of god and bad parenting, hints of loss, nervousness, fluff, lemons, anger. All sorts of good stuff. A/N:  This is the last chapter! o.O Thank you all for the lovely prompts, it won’t be the last time I’ll work like that. I hope this ending is all you guys could wish for...except the spelling etc because I just REALLY wanted to share it, so I’ve not proof read it, meh. Please, reblog etc. if you did enjoy <3

Satisfied

…   Loki’s PoV   …

There are moments in a child’s life when they look upon their parents and wonder “what if”. What if the parents had never met? What if they never had decided to have children? Then the kid wouldn’t be in the world or maybe they’d be an only child or…

Thinking back, Loki’s thoughts had often been related more to the question of “why”, as in “why did his parents love each other” or at the very least why the love between them was so different and apparently impossible to spill over onto the youngest prince. No, that wouldn’t be fair to say, because Frigga did love her son and she did her best to make sure he knew that. Just like she would comfort him when he was sad or guide him when he felt lost. Frigga, queen and mother, was the one person Loki could come to for support or philosophical discussions. She was the one that saw his future as something bright and blessed, and she would spin tales rivalling the best penmanship to instill a longing within the heart of the young prince for all that was to come.

Mama told me when I was young: Come sit beside me, my only son

…   Reader’s PoV   …

This. Is. Quality. Stretching towards the cloudless sky above you, it’s all you can do not to spontaneously start giggling at the feel of the ocean lapping over your feet and caressing your ankles. Cool on your hot skin but not too cold that a swim would be anything else than heavenly tomorrow…today’s too late because the jet only touched down an hour before earlier and now the sun is setting across the endless ocean.

For more than a year now, Loki has been escaping with you to the most wonderful places on earth (so far) between working on missions with the Avengers. It’s not a life you expected even with the Asgardian as your partner in crime. Crime. Yeah, not a whole lot of action’s been going on on that front, obviously, and still somehow…you’ve got more than enough challenges to keep your mind occupied. Heists have been replaced by rescue operations; artifacts replaced with weapons. At least the way of working is still relatively the same in terms of intel and planning.

Cool hands snake around your waist, pulling you backwards against the hard planes of muscle of a similar low temperature, making goosebumps spread across your skin.

“I should have known you’d abandon me with the unpacking in favour of this,” Loki mumbles into you hair.

You turn partially in his arms, wanting to be able to kiss him but not wanting to give up the scenery beyond the glittering sea. “Can you blame me? Look at that view!”

Leaning back from the embrace, the god’s attention isn’t on the sunset. “Breathtaking.”

Then he holds you close, preventing you from saying anything until the sun finally disappears beneath the horizon in a display of orange and purples and anything in between. Breathtaking, yes.

…   Loki’s PoV   …

Unpacking had, in truth, been a simple task for the god who simply had left the butler with that responsibility (with the exception of one specific piece of luggage) and as the chef was already preparing the lavish dinner, Loki had found himself pacing. Restless. Nervous.

That very same insecurity still hunts the pale man all through dinner. He dotes on [Y/N], feeds her bites from the ridiculous amount of tiny dishes that have been prepared and offers her cool wines. But Loki can barely swallow a morsel himself.

His gaze is locked on the softly coloured lips that send him a shy smile. They are small talking, and it’s a challenge to stay focused on the subject when joy sparkles in the [Y/E/C] of the perfect woman’s eyes. Nimble fingers fidget with glass or delve into the silken hair that by now has become messy from the travelling. Messy, but oh so right, bringing attention to the wildness that bubbles just below the surface of her.

That’s who she is. His wild kitten. Intelligent, fierce, approaching any challenge with a calculative silence until she succeeds and lets go of the inhibitions for a while. Morals? [Y/N] never claims to be an angel, yet she has managed to show the god a different way – the way Frigga spoke of hundreds of years ago when Loki was a child in need of comfort and hope. Life had indeed turned out slightly different than what his mother had predicted because there is no Asgard and royal life (even as nothing more than a prince) and no plans of ruling or being distinguished beyond the scope of mortal man. It is…simpler.

“Hon?” [Y/N] manages to get through the fog of thoughts.

Her furrowed brows don’t relax until he has promised that everything is fine. “I was merely thinking…of you, in fact.”

“Oh?” A coy smile dances on her mouth. “Am I in trouble?”

“When are you not?” Loki can’t help but laugh. “You could be the Goddess of Mischief. Do not feign innocence when we both know it was you that swapped out everyone’s underwear.”

[Y/N] disguises a grin behind the wineglass, and when she moves the glass from her lips a seriousness has returned. “But what were you thinking? I know it was something serious…”

Boy, don't you worry, you'll find yourself Follow your heart and nothing else

…   Reader’s PoV   …

You watch with both wonder and concern as the god they call Silver Tongue struggles with his words, opening and closing his mouth several times as a faint red sheen crawls into his eyes where the pupils are blown. That bad? Reaching for his hand, you’re afraid he’ll pull away, but he doesn’t. Cold and slightly damp against your palm…and trembling.

”Please, Loki…” you begin softly, stroking his knuckles with your thumb.

The cold spikes and he pulls away, breaking a piece off your heart. ”Excuse me.”

He doesn’t even stop to pick up the chair after he topples it over in his eager to get away from you. Why? A cold, his cold, has gripped your chest so hard you have to struggle to breathe. What did I do wrong?

You’ve wanted to deny the signs, but this can’t be unseen. For weeks now, he’s become increasingly withdrawn, preferring solitude or simply losing focus, and it’s been getting worse even with a short respite after he and Thor had been away to some other realm or planet or whatever. For a few days things had seemed normal, then it started all over. This is the worst yet.

Bit by bit, lessons you’ve let from your new co-workers (especially Natasha) start to surface, diluting the self-deprecation with a healthy amount of anger and determination. Trucker turd! Your own chair screeches across the marble floor. I’ll be damn if I let him make me feel crappy on a vacation like this! And with that in mind, you march off the way Loki had gone.

You find him in the bedroom, crouched by his suitcase with the back to the door.

“Okay, listen up, mister!”

Hands on your hips and a solid footing, you plant yourself a few steps behind him. Gorgeous bedroom. The thought zips through your mind unwanted and you push it aside for now, ignoring the probably gorgeous view from the huge windows and balcony beyond…and the grand bed to your left which you’d been hoping to “break in” tonight rather than scold a god. But that’s life sometimes.

“I know, [Y/N],” Loki admits quietly, the tenderness in his voice catching you by surprise, “I’ve been…absentminded and distanced lately.” His back is still toward you, but you know the sort of pain showing in his eyes anyways. “You deserve more than that, I know, because you are…you have changed my life and me for the better.”

“Darling…”

The distance isn’t even reduced by a single step before he motions for you to stop. To wait. His shoulders rise and fall before he finally straightens his back and swirls around to face you. Still on his knees. Oh… Turquoise eyes root you to the spot. Big hands holds a footlong box.

“I wish could tell you all the reasons I love you…but there’s not enough time in the universe for it.” A dextrous tongue swipes his bottom lip. “Lady [Y/N] [Y/L/N], will you allow me to be your husband?”

With those words, he flips the box open to show the contents, but the world is becoming a blur to you, spinning the room slowly. Oh. Oh no. Not…how…

“But Loki…I’ll die from you!” You can hear it yourself, how broken your voice is.

As the first tear falls and your vision clears a bit, you see the man you love put the box aside and stand. His strong arms encircle you, holding you tightly against his chest. A part of you wants to push away, to save him from the real pain later by leaving him now because after all: it had been your plan to leave him eventually, so he didn’t have to see you grow old and die.

“My dear, I know your reasoning,” he whispers in your ear, soft kissing landing on your cheeks and lips, “I would not want to miss out on even a second of your life, I’ll be by your side forever because nothing can change what I feel. Please let me…if you truly love me.”

Pulling back as much as his embrace allows, you frown at him indignantly. “I do love you!”

“Then please…” He guides you to sit on the foot end of the bed before retrieving the box once more and kneeling again. “Please let me be yours.” The dark wood is padded on the inside with golden silk, cradling two nearly identical daggers perfectly. “I know of the Midgardian customs with the rings…however I thought you would appreciate the tradition from Vanaheim where the betrothed couple each carries a twin dagger, bound by magic and echoing the heartbeat of the person that carries the twin…”

“I’d always be able to sense you…”

He nods, proffering the box. And they’re gorgeous too. Of course he’s right in thinking you’d prefer this over a ring. The handles appear to be frosted glass with smoky tendrils of Jotun-blue at the centre and a bead at the very end while the blade itself is silvered and perforated by runes.

Those spell out Loki which means the other dagger has your name on it. Lifting the Loki-blade, you recognise the quality of the craftmanship.

“That would be the one you would carry…if you choose to…” the god trails off.

Carefully, you return the weapon to its place. Then you close the lid and set the box aside before sliding onto the floor.

“I hate the idea of breaking your heart…but I hate the idea of being without you too. If one day you realize you can’t watch me grow old, then promise me we say goodbye as friends.”

“You mean…that –”

“– is a yes.”

Mouths clash cold yet passionate, the fervour growing with each stroke of tongue tips or nibble at the other’s lips and soon Loki’s pushing the straps of your dress aside gently. Every inch of skin is lavished with kisses that make goosebumps break out and you nipples harden against the lace (which is all that remains as cover). Once the soft cotton hangs from your hips, the god’s roaming hands come to rest at your waist. You know what he’s about to do, but it amazes you regardless. It always does. Lifting you to your feet as though you weigh nothing at all and standing you on the bed. Loki’s nose presses against the skin of your belly or, if he stretches a bit, the cleavage where he can inhale your scent while his hands bring the dress the rest of the way down. Probably holding it back rather than letting it fall for the simple purpose of enjoying the slow reveal of your body.

“My love.” Kisses are peppered onto your hips. “My queen.” Hands roam the back of your thighs. “My fiancée.” A long arm reaches up along your back to release the hooks on the bra. “Mine.”

You vaguely hear where the lacy clothing lands, but not really because Loki’s mouth and hands are at your breasts, the Silver Tongue of his working the kind of magic that’s reserved for you only. Moans fill the room as the god slides down your panties to allow access to a hand, fingers skimming through the folds and teasing you in just the right way by adding pressure with the hell of the hand whenever possible.

Even with your fingers entwined with Loki’s black hair, it’s hard to keep balance on the soft bed and you’re grateful by the time he lays you down and positions himself to continue the work between your legs. Languidly. Broad licks supplemented by pressure administered by a thumb to your clit to have you pussy aching and clenching helplessly around nothing. You on the verge of cumming when his lips close around the little bundle of nerves.

“Please, Loki.”

“Hmmmm?” The sound sends vibrations into you, but he detaches before it sets off a climax. “Not yet, my love.”

Fuck! It wouldn’t be smart to say that out loud. The man thrives on teasing to the point that it nearly becomes torture, so you adopt a different tactic and suggest with a purr that he be the one to be treated.

Obviously, he can’t resist to see your lips wrapped around his cock and soon, Loki’s the one to groan and beg for release either in your mouth or deep within the needing cunt. Oh, the delicious revenge is sweet. Now you’re the one to move slowly, crawling up his body and trailing kisses (and bites) along the way until your straddling him with his erection sliding between the slick folds in a manner that stimulates your clit just perfectly. Fingers digging into your thighs, he lies and watches as you succumb to an orgasm, juices dripping onto his balls and the throbbing shaft.

“Please…” he nearly whines as you start to come down.

A nod is all he needs before he’s flipped you both around and sheathed himself fully in you, setting off a new wave of ecstasy which he somehow manages to wait out, still as a statue. But you see his struggle. You see it in his eyes that are turning crimson, and you feel it on his body temperature which is dropping.

“Let me see you,” you whisper hoarsely, “the real you.”

Loki knows how attractive you find the Jotun form and happily complies with your request. Each body part enlarges – some parts more than others, thank goodness, but you still feel the swell of his cock within you, stretching your walls a bit more.

“God, yes!”

Rolling his hips, the partner in crime pulls out almost completely before thrusting back forcefully, making you scoot up the bed until you can reach and stem against on the headboard, and each stroke Loki gives is met by a tilt of your hips. Teeth find the crook of your throat, latching on hard enough that it will bruise tomorrow and softly enough for the pain not to be too much.

…   Loki’s PoV   …

He sees [Y/N]’s eyelashes flutter as she arches against his blue body. Heat against cold. The walls of her cunt clench and pulsate, sending tremors through her perfect shape and breaking the cry that falls from her lips. And Loki is right at the precipice with the woman, toppling over the edge and into a sea of bliss. It is all he can do to keep himself from collapsing onto [Y/N], rolling off instead to lie panting next to her.

She is still shivering, when the god regains his strength enough to focus his seiðr to care for her before finally pulling the light of his live into his arms.

“I love you,” she smiles drowsily, “all the time.” She doesn’t bother to stifle a yawn,

Her temple is hot against his lips. “I love you too. Always.”

There is no answer save for the gentle breathing.

Always.

Baby be a simple kind of man Oh, won't you do this for me, son, if you can

[keepseaveyweird]

Requested- yes! by the best @coolkidcorbyn - blurb idea! what if you worked at a diner and the boys stopped in really late one night bc they are traveling on tour and they are super sweet ofc and y/n has a moment with one of them and later finds a napkin with a phone number and :)

a/n: I changed it just a bit and I’m sorry I take a million years to do literally anything but it’s finally up and a lot longer than a blurb lmao

word count: 2938 

She frowned, watching her friends all at the concert without her. Her friends meeting them after the show and singing along to their songs from the crowd. She wanted to go, wanted to see the boys so bad, but she didn’t have enough money and her small diner job wouldn’t give her extra hours to afford it. So instead of singing her lungs out, she sat at work in the middle of the night, sad she missed out on such a fun opportunity to see her favorite band.

She hated the night shift, hated everything about it. Hated the random chores she had to do to make her shift more productive, hated sitting around doing nothing because no one wanted to eat at 2am. Hated weekend night shifts even more because then it was crazy at 2am, filled with drunk or high kids from the local high school who were impossible to work with and never tipped. She much rather preferred the busy mornings filled with old, retired couples who would chat her ear off and tip like no other. Work mornings when the sun shined and the birds chirped and the small town she lived in actually felt alive.

It was not one of those morning though, instead it was a dead Wednesday night. The sun had gone down hours ago, kids had gone home to rest for school the next morning, business men finished their meetings and went home to their families. It sucked living in a drive-by town right off the interstate, where truckers just stopped for a quick break, families used the bathroom so they could continue their road trip to wherever they were going. It lacked fun, lacked excitement and she couldn’t pray enough for someone to come in or for something amazing to happen.

Having stood around, chatting to the one cook on duty for hours, she heard the bell on the door ding, indicating someone had walked in. Her eyebrows crinkled, as well as her co-workers, because it was 1:30 in the morning and no one ever stopped by at those hours. So to say she was surprised when she walked out to see five boys laughing as they continued to trickle in was an understatement.

She stopped dead in her tracks, her knees buckling as she rounded the corner of the counter. They hadn’t noticed her yet, too busy yawning and rubbing their eyes to notice the girl running back to the kitchen to collect herself. Because it was her favorite band, her favorite boys in the whole world that she thought she missed out on, but instead received a surprise visit. She knew they’d pass by on the tour bus, the diner being on the way to the next city, but she didn’t know they’d stop, didn’t think this opportunity would actually happen. So she checked herself in the mirror, fixed her jean skirt as well as readjusted the apron around her waist and walked out as calmly as she could.

“How are you guys doing tonight?” she smiled grabbing menus from behind the counter.

“Great,” Jonah grinned, “how ‘bout yourself?” he was so friendly, so smiley and charming at this hour she couldn’t imagine what he was like when he was fully awake, fully energized. The other four smiled, nodding and mumbling as well, Corbyn making eye contact with her and becoming a shade of red.

“As good as I can get,” she said, leading them to a table near the front and away from the window, just in case because she knew they didn’t want to be spotted. They all sat down, each thanking her for the menu she placed in front of them, nicer than she ever could’ve imagined them to be.

“I’ll let you guys look over the menu, my names y/n so just let me know if you have any questions” she told them, leaving them as she ran back to the kitchen.

“Thanks y/n!” you heard Corbyn yell a bit as he yawned once again.

What the hell is happening, she thought, leaning up against the counter as she let out of huff of air, the older man laughing at her.

“They giving you a hard time?” He asked her as he continued prepping vegetable for the morning.

“No, not at all they’re so nice,” she explained to him, “but you know how I wanted to go to that concert tonight to see my favorite band?”

The man gently nodded, remembering her complaints earlier that night as she drowned her sorrows in coffee, “that’s them,” she pointed out the doorway.

He leaned over to peak out the open door, a chuckle leaving his mouth, earning a glare from y/n.

“This isn’t funny! What do I do?” she sighed, putting her elbows on the counter, head in her hands as she ran her hands through her hair.

“How about you go take their order?” he suggested with a smirk. So, with as much confidence as she could muster, she left the back room and approached the boys who seemed to be giving Corbyn a hard time. They didn’t seem to notice y/n approach, except for the blonde who tried his hardest to hide the slap he gave to Jack’s thigh, but it was no use as Jack groaned and hunched over.

“You guys know what I can get started for ya?” she asked, pulling out the notepad from her apron.

Zach laughed, slapping his menu down onto the table cheekily, “I think Corbyn knows what he wants!” he cackled. She didn’t get it, didn’t catch onto his joke, though she did notice the glare Zach received from him before he faced you with a smile.

“I’ll just have pancakes,” he told you, “please.” The other four couldn’t help but snicker under their breaths, making Corbyn roll his eyes.

“Of course,” she smiled at him, trying to keep her cool. He handed back his menu, his big hand grazing hers while doing so, and his face turned yet a deeper shade of red, something she didn’t think was possible. The other’s orders were taken, mostly chicken strips, and she headed back into the kitchen.

“Thank you, y/n,” Daniel smiled as she walked away, earning a smile as she whisked herself away.

Before she could even hand him the ticket, the old man pointed his spatula at her, fierce and concerned.

“The blonde one, he likes you.” He smiled.

“First of all, which one?” she joked, as Daniel was still sporting his dyed hair, “second of all, that’s false. I’m just the waitress whose here to take their orders. They’re tired and delirious and are like that to everyone.” The old man rolled his eyes, taking the ticket from her hand to begin cooking as he continued to explain how she was wrong.

“I was your age once, was a young man myself. I know lust and young love when I see it, and the blonde with the big eyebrows has it for you,” the older man spoke, facing away, towards the grill. She peeked through the hole in the wall where dishes were served during the busy morning, to see four boys facing Corbyn, deep in conversation over something out of earshot. Suddenly, he looked up and their eyes met through the metal hardware, both freezing for a second before looking back down awkwardly.

He couldn’t be attracted to me? Right? She thought to herself as she waited for her coworker to wrap up the band’s late night dinner.  

She couldn’t help but admit Corbyn was her favorite, that he made her laugh with almost every word, every move he made from the comfort of her phone screen. Couldn’t help but be transfixed by his voice and the way he’d answer questions in interviews. Couldn’t help but adore his love for space and marvel at how truly smart he was, even when he made dumb decisions or said something that would maybe contradict that fact. So as they sat there in her lobby, she couldn’t comprehend the fact that maybe Corbyn thought she pretty. That when she came out from the back he couldn’t help but admire her.

“y/n? Are you good?” the cook waved a hand in front of her face, breaking her out of her thoughts as he pushed five plates across the table to her. She thanked him, loading them up on a tray and taking it out to them, where she noticed the moment she came into view they all directed their attention to either her or Corbyn.

I have to know, she thought to herself. As she handed each their food, receiving a ‘thank you’ from each of them, she decided to save Corbyn’s for last as she placed his plate in front of him.

“Thank you so much, these look great.” he told her, looking at her with the prettiest smile in the world. A smile so warm that it could melt the polar ice caps and in that moment y/n was convinced this boy was the cause for climate change.

She placed a hand on his back, taking him by surprise as his eyes widened a bit. Like when a little kid gets caught doing something bad, or when the lights turn on when trying to sneak back in after curfew. His band mates couldn’t help but lose it, tears falling out of Jonah’s eyes as he was laughing so hard, and she didn’t understand what was so funny, didn’t know that the intense conversation they were having was a pep talk for Corbyn as he was so intimidated by her.

“No problem, just let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you guys.” She smiled, looking at Corbyn who was now more red than imaginable while the boys continued to laugh.

“Oh,” Zach started, “I think Corbyn needs to get-” but he was cut off.

“NO!,” Corbyn yelled, “I don’t need anything else, I am perfectly fine, thank you y/n,” he said quickly, and if looks could kill, there would only be four members of Why Don’t We after that night.

The boys ate while she stood there talking to the cook, taking their time as Jack tried to stay awake from their busy day.

“You should tell them you’re a big fan, ask for a picture,” the old man suggested after she had explained to him who they were.

“I don’t know,” she teetered, “I don’t wanna seem like one of those weird fans. Meeting them tonight was enough for me.”

“I think you’ll regret it,” he shrugged.

“Whatever, I’ll figure it out,” she told him, ringing up their check.

Walking out with a check in hand, she grabbed all their plates while Zach and Jack napped on each other and Daniel and Jonah continued to harass Corbyn.

“Do I just pay here?” Jonah asked you.

“Actually you can just bring it up to the front when you guys are ready and you can pay there,” she told them, pointing to the front door where a case of homemade pastries were as well as the cash register. Suddenly, Daniel and Jonah eyed one another, silently scheming.

“Hey Jonah, I gotta use the bathroom real fast before we hit the road, you need to go too?” Daniel said standing up, Corbyn catching up onto what was happening, his face scrunched, concerned and worried for his own dignity.

“Yeah, me too. Corbyn could you pay for us and we’ll meet you outside?” Jonah smiled, shaking the other two awake and dragging them along, not giving Corbyn an option as he threw his debit card at him. He didn’t know what to say, could only stand there and plan how to murder each of them once they were back on the road.

It was silent as y/n lead him to the register where he handed her Jonah’s card, their hands brushing again. And Corbyn felt it, a surge of heat radiating through his body and he had never felt like that before. Especially with a stranger, someone he knew nothing about, only a name.

“I’m sorry about my friends,” he blurted, “they’re all idiots,” he shook his head with a small smile, because no matter how much he wanted to kill them, his love trumped he had for his brothers trumped his want to bury them all alive. 

y/n smiled, because she knew, knew all too well that they were in fact idiots but she loved each of them for it. And with a sudden boost of confidence, she decided to tell him that.

“It’s okay,” she laughed, “I’m actually a huge fan of you guys. I wanted to go to your show tonight but I had to work.” His eyes widened, a smile stretched across his face.

“Really?! You’re so chill I never would have known. I’m sorry you missed the show, but…. You can’t tell anyone but I think I can get you tickets to the one tomorrow” he winked, using the confidence she was radiating suddenly to build his own.

“Wait, what? Are you serious?” she asked, a smile encapsulating her face. And Corbyn was mesmerized by it, by her bright eyes and bubbly personality, even though it was almost three in the morning.

“Yeah for sure, on one condition,” he told her.

“Oh no, what is it?”

“You have to tell me who your favorite member of Why Don’t We is,” he chuckled, leaning against the pastry case, “and why.”

y/n groaned, her hands covering her face, “you’re kidding?”

“Nope,” Corbyn laughed, popping the ‘p’.

“Fine,” y/n said, putting her hands up in surrender, “but if you thought I was chill before you might reconsider,” she warned.

“Give me your best shot,” he laughed.

“Okay well unfortunately enough… you’re my favorite,” she blushed, “and I’m not really sure why. It’s like you don’t even have to try to be funny, but whenever I’m watching interviews or listening to you I can’t help but laugh. And your voice is incredible, well all of you are incredible, but you just sound so different and I love your tone.”

By then Corbyn was tomato, red from all the praise he was receiving, because he wasn’t expecting him to be her favorite. Was expecting Daniel or Zach, but he couldn’t help the butterflies he was feeling in his stomach, the way she made him feel, he was just so amazed by her. Amazed by her willingness to be so open, ability to sound so mature while basically fan-girling and he was entranced by everything about her.

Who is this girl? He thought to himself.

“And you’re just so kind and caring and the way you talk to your fans is just so lovely. And you’re so humble and down to Earth even though you have every right to be the most cocky piece of shit on the planet, but you’re not. You’re just one hundred percent you and I love it, I respect it and I love watching you guys grow as artists,” she said, using her hands to explain everything she was saying, “and now you probably think I’m some crazy fan,” she face palmed while he laughed.

“No actually, I don’t. Thank you, thank you so much, for everything you just said. It means so much and I’ve never heard anyone say any of those things,” he said with a smile, something he had been doing since the moment he walked in, “most fans don’t know what to say, or they’re super shallow about their responses. It was nice hearing something different for a change.” He said.

“Well, I’m happy I could be a change in that for you,” she nodded. The other four boys came out of the bathroom, smirking as they the tail end of the conversation.

“Guys! She’s a fan!” Corbyn pointed excitedly.

“Oh my gosh, really? But you were so cool? I didn’t think you knew us?” Daniel said with a grin. The five offered to take a picture with her, the cook coming out with a smile on his face as he held the phone in his hand to take it for them.

“Oh! Before I forget!” Corbyn rushed out to the tour bus and came back with envelope in his hand, giving it to her.

“They’re not front row, but they’re as close as we could get,” he told her, a smile on his face.

“Thank you so much, this means the world to me, you don’t understand!” she said, opening it up as he watched. She pulled out two lanyards and two ticket stubs.

“An extra one incase you wanted to bring a friend, and,” he paused, pointing to lanyards, “two backstage passes for ya.”

“You’re kidding? I can’t take these, it’s too much,” she said, trying to give them back, but Corbyn put his hands up.

“It’s no problem,” he said, beginning to get a bit nervous, “but I was wondering if maybe after the show tomorrow, you maybe wanted to possibly- uh- I don’t know… do something with me? Like a date?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck.

y/n blushed, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

The four laughed as they grabbed Corbyn’s shoulder, informing them they had to hit the road.

He turned around, waving goodbye, a smile engulfing his face, “See you tomorrow y/n!”

“See ya tomorrow, have a safe trip!” she yelled, as she skipped back into the kitchen, still totally not believing what had just happened was real.

“I told you telling them would bring you something good,” the old man smiled.

And y/n had never been so grateful for any advice as she decided on what to wear for the date with Corbyn ahead of her.

Tag list: @kvd963 @katie-avery @coolkidcorbyn @technolilly@mycollectionofnuts @joyus-jack

@daniels-beanies @annabseavey

@deanismymom @lavienenchanel

[revancheofthecommas]

Yearbooks from the 70s, pt. 1

I found my mom’s yearbooks from 1978 (her Junior year) and 1979 (her Senior year) and they are fascinating to say the least, in part because she grew up in a small, backwoods town.

I’m going to share some of the best life goals from the Senior classes (1978):

“Have 5 or 6 children (well, at least 3), learn to swim, help others help themselves, make as few mistakes as possible.

To stop talking so much, go to college, to have a little boy that looks just like Richie.

Join the Navy, to hike the Appalachian trail.

To be a nurse, live somewhere where it never gets cold.

Become a lieutenant in the Medical Corps and to be rich.

To see California before I die, to make something constructive out of my life, to get married some day in the far future.

To become a good and successful secretary.

To be a biologist, to enjoy all of life and nature.

Mechanic.

To be happy and live 100 years.

To live in New Hampshire.

To work, to live, to love.

To live in a world which surrounds me with peace and happiness.

To have the best and enjoyable life that anybody could ever have, and to become a trucker.

To find the holy grail.

To succeed in Life, to become rich, to be somebody.

To live happily ever after.

To Live.

To be a lawyer.

To be SOMEBODY.

To be an emergency paramedic.

To own a Harley and to open my own customizing shop.

To be in Forestry.

Travel the world, to keep learning.

To become a model, to be happy and free.

To live a happy, free, and peaceful life, to open my own beauty salon, or settle down and raise a family.

To be a great mechanic.

Go into Veterinary medicine, win the lottery, and buy a truck.

To be content.

Be an artist; if not, be successful in whatever I do.

Many.

To get a job.

To own a greenhouse and a cat.

To be successful with music.

Professional celery inspector.

To go into the Air Force or the Navy.

To retire early and buy my own Kenworth.

To be a landscapist.

To own a Kenworth.

To be an accountant, to lead a happy life.

To own a dependable car.

To be an M.P. in the Army.

To life MY life MY way.

Welding.

To survive college and be successful.

To help less fortunate, to be a coach.

To gain a few pounds, to win the lottery.

To own a lodge in snow country, make a decent living.

To be rich, to see Hawaii, to be successful.

To go into nursing, to succeed in life.

To become a professional photographer.

Always have something to strive for, to mean something to others.

To get married and be a child psychologist.

Survive.

To move out, be on my own, and to be happy with whatever happens.

To be an Admiral.

To own a Corvette.

To be happy and free, to be so rich I can use $1000 bills for wallpaper, to live to be 150.

Interior decorator.

To be a professional musician in an orchestra.

To be successful, to be rich, to own a Lincoln Continental, to go to Hawaii.

[ponytailcoby]

The Perks of a Celebrity Best Friend

Day 6 of 30 Days of Jyrus- Fame AU

Most people probably assume having a celebrity as a best friend is awesome. They think because you’re their best friend, you automatically get all the perks that come with being a celebrity, but in reality, having a celebrity best friend kind of sucks in Cyrus’ opinion.  

Not that Cyrus would ever trade his friendship with Jonah for anything in the world, but when your best friend becomes a pop superstar virtually overnight, sacrifices have to be made.

Sacrifices that include a cross-country tour with stops in thirty cities that requires Jonah to be away from Cyrus…and nearly everyone else in his life for three months.   

So yeah, for Cyrus, having a best friend who just happens to be a celebrity is hard because it means he doesn’t get to hang out with Jonah like they used to. The pair were basically attached at the hip all the time.  

But now with Jonah’s career taking off the way he and his family and friends always thought it would, he, understandably, doesn’t have as much time to spend with the people he cares about.  Though when he does get some free time, like currently he’s on a bus traveling to his next destination, Jonah always FaceTimes with Cyrus.

The pair have been talking to each other for nearly two hours, laughing, swapping stories about what they’ve done since the last time they talked, and lamenting the fact that Jonah’s thirty city tour is only half done.  He still has over a month left on the road, over a month left to be away from Cyrus.

“Did I tell you I ran into another door?”  Cyrus asks, bowing his head in embarrassment, and Jonah looks at him in disbelief.

“No, you didn’t.”

When Cyrus nods his affirmation that, yes, he was the victim of another door-related injury, Jonah sighs at him and scolds him in a playful manner.  “Cyrus, you have to be careful.  You know I’m not there to stop you from doing stuff like that.  How many doors is that now since I’ve been gone?  Seven, eight?”

“No,” Cyrus retorts, “it hasn’t been that many.”

“Are you sure?”  Jonah inquires with a raised eyebrow.  “Because I think I remember you mentioning just last week that your parents took you out to dinner at a new restaurant downtown and there just happened to be a glass door—”    

Cyrus interrupts him to exclaim, “Lies and slander!”

Both boys laugh until Cyrus asks, “So, where is your next show again?”

Jonah shrugs with a grin. “No clue, probably at a truck stop.  I told you truckers make up about 80% of my target demographic.”

Cyrus rolls his eyes, letting out a soft chuckle.  “You’re so ridiculous.”  Jonah says nothing to dispute this, and Cyrus adds, “And that’s one of the reasons why I love you.”

The words come tumbling out of his mouth before Cyrus can stop them and his eyes widen in shock because he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.  He’s been hopelessly in love with his best friend for years, but Cyrus knew nothing could ever come of it, that Jonah would only ever see him as a friend so he kept his feelings to himself.

And of course once Jonah’s music career took off like a rocket, Cyrus knew he could never tell him the truth about his feelings but now he’s just blurted them out right to Jonah’s face.  Cyrus wishes the floor could open up, swallow him whole, and save him from this humiliation.

There’s a good chance that won’t happen so the best Cyrus can do now to save face is to end this chat with Jonah before he says anything else to embarrass himself.  

“I forgot there’s something I need to do right at this very moment so I better go.”  Cyrus is so busy panicking that he doesn’t hear Jonah call out to him before he ends their conversation.  

Cyrus’ head falls forward into his hands and he releases a long sigh.  How could he be so stupid?  How could he just blurt out the words like that after keeping his feelings to himself for all these years?

Cyrus doesn’t have long to beat himself up because Jonah is requesting to FaceTime with him again, but Cyrus quickly declines.  Two minutes later, Cyrus’ phone rings.  He glances at it to see who’s calling and lets out a small shriek when he sees Jonah’s name flashing across the screen. 

Cyrus ignores that call…and the fifteen that come over the next hour as well as the twenty text messages Jonah sends him.  Jonah tries to contact Cyrus for the rest of the evening, but Cyrus turns his phone off and shoves it under his mattress so he won’t be tempted to answer and make a fool of himself in front of Jonah again.

The following day, Cyrus uses his home’s landline to call Buffy and Andi and implore them for help dealing with his Jonah situation. The girls arrive at his house ten minutes later and both of them roll their eyes at him the moment they walk through the door.

“Will you stop being a baby and just call Jonah?  Since he can’t get through to you, he’s been calling us nonstop.  It hasn’t been the most fun experience listening to your boyfriend whine about not being able to talk to you,” Buffy complains as she drops down on the couch.

“Jonah’s not my boyfriend,” Cyrus says with a pout.  “And I’m sure he just feels bad that I completely humiliated myself in front of him.”

Andi and Buffy glance sideways at each other, and Andi stresses, “You really should talk to Jonah.”

Cyrus’ doorbell rings at that moment, and he gets up to answer it.  “And what should I say exactly?” Cyrus asks as he opens the door without even bothering to see who it is.  “‘Jonah, I’m sorry I opened up my big mouth and told you that I love you.’”

“I’m not sorry you did.”

Cyrus nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Jonah’s voice behind him.  He spins around to find the young man standing on his doorstep with a smile on his face, and Cyrus resists the urge to slam the door on him.

“What are you doing here?” Cyrus questions breathlessly.  “You’re not supposed to be here; you have a concert somewhere across country.”

“I rescheduled it,” Jonah reveals.  “You wouldn’t answer any of my calls or messages, and I couldn’t leave things like that between us so I caught a flight and came back here to see you.”

“Why?”

As soon as that one word leaves his mouth, two pillows strike Cyrus on the back of the head, and he turns back around to see Andi and Buffy shaking their heads at him.  “Don’t be stupid!”  Both girls yell at him and Cyrus winces while Jonah laughs softly.

Cyrus turns back to face Jonah, who steps inside the house and closes the door behind him.  “I wanted to see you because I had to tell you that you didn’t have to be embarrassed about telling me how you feel because…I feel the same way.”

Cyrus gapes at him for a moment before saying, “But that’s not possible.  You’re Jonah Beck, World Famous Pop Star.”

Jonah nods in agreement. “True.”  When Cyrus rolls his eyes at him, Jonah takes his hands and adds in a soft voice, “But I’m also your best friend who is so deeply in love with you that he’d reschedule a show and hop on a flight just to be with you.”

When Cyrus looks at him, he can see the love and devotion in Jonah’s eyes and it overwhelms him but it also fills his heart with more affection than he thought possible.  

Cyrus lets go of Jonah but only so he can place his hands on either side of his face and pull him in for a kiss.  Andi cheers while Buffy mutters, “Finally.”  And Cyrus supposes having a celebrity best friend and boyfriend might just have its perks after all.        

[ayearofpike]

Thirst No. 5: The Sacred Veil

Simon Pulse, 2013 441 pages, 17 chapters + prologue and epilogue ISBN 978-1-4424-6731-6 LOC: PZ7.P626 Thb 2013 OCLC: 795175747 Released March 5, 2013 (per B&N)

With all the bad guys destroyed, Sita and her friends should be safe, right? Not so fast — there’s still a nationwide manhunt going on, enhanced by the computer program that’s already told authorities about Team Vampire. On top of this, the now-headless devil’s advocate had a photo in her suitcase implying that the evils are after a sacred artifact that Sita came into contact with during World War II. To beat them to it, she’ll have to trace a past that she can’t remember in order to cancel a deal she didn’t make.

With this book, it feels like Pike is finding his stride with the modern YA genre. It’s more pages than we strictly need to tell the story, the group is given reasons for existence beyond “Sita likes us,” and the vampires finally fuck. That said, it does use some of Pike’s favorite tropes: flashbacks, Hinduism, the consistent timeline, jumping from high places, muthafuckin lizard aliens. You’re not going to mistake this for someone else’s work, especially if you’ve already read The Wicked Heart.

Yep! Pike is reusing his old assets again! This time, it’s the evil descendant of Heinrich Himmler ... well, sort of. We’ll get there. I guess it was only a matter of time before Sita had an Adventure With Nazis, considering how the Holocaust is a monster of a humanitarian travesty, relatively prominent in American minds, and it’s natural that Pike would want to explore how she might have tried to fight it. Plus it’s kind of a get-deep-quick card in terms of how your story is going to be received, and it does sell books. (I was recently at my kid’s book fair — at an ELEMENTARY SCHOOL — and was alarmed by the number of books about WWII and the Holocaust.) 

Whatever it is, I am really not into white dudes fictionalizing Nazi Germany. But I read this anyway, because I’m dedicated or something. 

I might as well jump in with the summary, and I’m going to try to be quick about it, even though I pretty much need to re-read the book. But as I said, there’s a lot less action in this story, and we already know Sita and her backstory from the last eight, so I don’t have to be quite as worried about leaving stuff out. Still, this book kind of comes from nowhere, so I’ll do my best to be fast yet thorough.

We pick up where The Shadow of Death left off, with Sita deciding whether or not to return to Earth. Of course she does, because she’s got friends to take care of and a headless demon channeler to bury. But in going through the kid’s effects, she finds a picture of a couple, the woman looking familiar for some reason. When she looks closer at the picture, she sees why: there’s another photo on their table of another couple, and these ones were friends and confidants to Sita in Paris in the 1940s. There are two reasons why the devil might have a picture of these people, and Sita isn’t buying the first, that it’s a link to her. It must be the other: the woman is the most likely owner of the Veil of Veronica, a sacred cloth used to wash Jesus’s face as he carried the cross and now containing some of his essence.

Sita and Immortal Boyfriend want to follow the trail, but CEO is less inclined. She feels that hiding out is going to be better for them, because sooner or later the national law enforcement search for them is going to at least shift to the back burner and it will be safer to move around the country. But when Sita calls the last number dialed on Demon Girl’s phone and gets Satan himself on the line, the decision is made: they have to get the veil before the evil does. So they drive to Vegas (again, fuckin’ Vegas), where CEO has a stash of cash and some fake IDs for everybody, which ... weird. But she buys a jet and they take off for North Carolina, where they’ve traced this couple in the picture.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Sita book if they could just travel unencumbered. They’re targeted by a couple of military jets, which Sita dispatches by jumping out of the plane and forcing one pilot to eject before using his missiles to blow up the other. Everybody parachutes to safety (well, not the military pilots) and hitchhikes with a trucker to Chapel Hill, en route to which Sita has to hypnotize a couple more cops at a roadblock (though the trucker is cool). Then they set the humans up at a hotel while she and Immortal Boyfriend go scope out the address. Right away it’s clear they’re too late: there are two dudes with critical injuries on the floor. One is the husband, and Sita manages to hypnotize him into describing the attackers and what they’ve done with his wife, only she doesn’t understand how they took her into the sky. He doesn’t know where the veil is, but they find a book written in code across four different languages. Sita also finds footprints leading away from the house ... to a charred circle in the grass, glowing with radioactivity.

The other dude on the floor showed up and tried to help, the husband says before he dies, so they decide to take him back to the hotel and see if he has more intel. Back at the hotel, Sita heals his head injury, enough that he wakes up and tells her he knows a little bit about what they’re doing but he can’t explain why or how he got the information. He does maintain that he can disable the tracking program that’s made them wanted criminals, using a mishmash of technology in a bag that they found in what was obviously his watch nest, but Sita insists that he needs to sleep first. She’s not gonna sleep, though: she’s gonna flash back to her experience in Nazi-occupied Paris, breaking a resistance leader out of a torture cell and bringing him to her friends, who are both doctors, for a little underground treatment. This is a prominent memory of the veil and how it can help soothe and calm fears, and maybe even ward off evil, which Sita needed after a long night of infiltrating a Gestapo headquarters and soaking up the terrors within.

She tells this story to Seymour and Immortal Boyfriend the next day, as they fly their new plane to New York. It's the home base of the phone number Sita dialed on their deceased spy's phone, after all, and they've traced it to a monster of a law firm that CEO can tell is shady through her own experience. How did they get the clearance to fly? Well, it seems that our mysterious new spy wasn't lying about his ability to throw a snarl at the Internet program and slow it down long enough to free up Team Vampire to slip through security. Our immortals kidnap the lawyer and get him to admit that his firm was working with the Indian girl on background checks, and also that they funnel dark money to the Pentagon for what is rumored to be military spacecraft. He doesn't get a chance to say more, though — armed mercenaries blow up the entire side of the hotel, taking him out, though Sita and Immortal Boyfriend escape over the roof and down the back stairs.

They did manage to make off with the lawyer's laptop, though, and while New Spy hacks it Sita traces him through his fingerprints, because of course there's a missing persons report out on him. In talking to the dude's wife and son, though, she's confused to learn that he's just, like, some guy. No particular skills, talents, or intelligence, just a decent dude who withdrew ten grand from his bank account and disappeared. Oh, but he did have a passion for astronomy, and in the last month before he took off he could be found staring at one star through a telescope for hours on end.

When she returns, New Spy has news: the military is definitely developing spacecraft, out at Nellis Air Force Base in, yep, fuckin' Vegas again. Seymour makes a connection from this development to the number of early NASA scientists who were reformed Nazis, but Sita warns him to shut the fuck up before he reveals too much. She tells him a little more of the story on the flight out: how she learned about changes in the Germans' military movement plans and swam across the English Channel to inform Allied forces (including a one-on-one meeting with George S. Patton, who insisted he knew her from a past life) but returned to Paris to find her SS informant murdered, her friends taken into custody, and a cold-blooded major waiting with a weird piece of tech that incapacitated her and allowed him to round her up as well. Related to the Telar torture device? Maybe. Seymour is seeing connections all over the place — not just that, but also from Sita's experiences as a prisoner of war to her interactions with the demon duke of Italy, way back when this series was still called The Last Vampire. Both times there was an artifact that supposedly had Christ's blood on it, both times she was tortured and taken prisoner, and both times she couldn't quite remember the end of the story. He might have a plan to help her remember, but we're going to have to wait to find out what it is.

There's a more pressing problem: New Spy is becoming incapacitated by swelling in his cranium. Sita takes him to a hospital as soon as they land, and he makes her swear that as soon as he's done with the procedure she'll take him wherever they go next. Yeah, Vegas isn't it, apparently, though if New Spy knows where is he ain't saying. While he's undergoing brain surgery she reads what he's managed to translate of the coded diary they found. It's a story narrated by Veronica herself, about meeting a Master (you know, one of Pike's favorite enlightened humans) and learning how to step outside both of our own thoughts and of society's restrictions and expectations. Then she goes back to the hotel to see what Seymour has planned and figure out their next steps.

Only first she has to fuck Immortal Boyfriend. Yeah, they talk about lost love and painful loneliness first, and how angry they’ve been at each other, and then they realize they might only have each other for eternity, and so it's time to hop on the meat train to Bone Town. I don't know — maybe it makes more sense than I'm painting here. I was, after all, always the dude who didn't see the intense horniness in Pike books when I read them as a teen. Still, it's felt for a while like neither of them is ready to move past Teri. Besides, Sita herself has become progressively more connected and enlightened through her various absorption of higher-level immortals and maybe gods, so what does she need a boyfriend for? The whole thing doesn't actually feel like love, necessarily ... more like a deep and abiding connection that they've decided must inevitably lead to Naked Time. And maybe I'm OK with a physical and emotional relationship that isn't the be-all and end-all of the storyline, but it still feels a little forced here.

Anyway, they go find Seymour and learn that his plan is to try to go into a mutual hypnotic trance with Sita to help her remember just what happened in that concentration camp. And it works like whoa: she starts flashbacking hardcore, to being kept in a basement cell for forty days without food or water. At the end of it the major shows up with a familiar-looking woman, and they know about her past. Like, a lot of her past, including her role in the battle described in the Mahabharata, where Arjuna called down a divine fire that obliterated a seemingly overwhelming enemy. They want her to tell them what she knows and what she saw during the battle, and torture her when it's not what they want to hear. She's chained to a pole in the courtyard, either to humiliate her or warn the other prisoners, but of course her friends from Paris find her and try to break her out. There's a mass gassing, a visit from Himmler himself, a failed attempt to unlock her shackles, and a promise to hide the improved key in her cell before the next torture session, but this time they're going psychological on her ass: they've captured her resistance leader friend and actually start flaying off his skin before she finally cracks.

As with the Nazi capture, as with the Duke of Death, it's like this part of her memory has been walled off somehow, and it took this pain to unlock it. How inconvenient that Pike took pains way back in 1994 to make it clear that Sita remembered everything that ever happened to her. But anyway, she tells the military dudes about finding Krishna during the battle and hearing him talk about alien observers watching the battle, maybe even having their own that echoes what's happening on Earth. He warns the soldiers to leave it alone, but a couple of them know what Sita is and coerce her into entering a large dome that is not safe for any human, because of an energy source that gives off a glowing heat. That's all the dudes can get out of her with this hypnosis session: she comes to all the way back to present day out of this flashback-within-a-flashback. It's easy to see, though, that the Nazis figured they could win the war with this technology, but how were they going to recreate it? Unless they somehow already had it. Unless they'd found an actual ship in India, on an artifact hunt like the ones ol’ Indiana Jones likes to thwart, and were trying to activate it using the knowledge from their literal link to the past.

Immortal Boyfriend knows where to go now: Joshua Tree National Park. You remember, where Miracle Baby was conceived, where Sita fought off the muthafuckin lizard aliens to get him back. Apparently it's in the video game that they were warned about, which IB has kept playing and recently beaten but won't describe because he doesn't want to influence Sita's genuine reaction to what he expects to happen. They bust New Spy out of the hospital and steal an ambulance to drive there, and along the way he starts dropping hints that it's not exactly the veil that these folks are after. He makes a phone call, supposedly to his superiors, but somehow Sita knows it's to whoever is trying to find them and is now pissed at this sudden but inevitable betrayal. But there's nothing for it: they have to know this meeting is happening tonight in order to get the veil-keeper back.

Seymour suggests another trance session now that they're in a spiritually powerful place, and they get some more of Sita's past. Using the female doctor friend (the one who had the veil at the time) the Nazis torture Sita into remembering the inside of the ship: the dead men who tried to enter and perished before they could exit, the exposed radioactive power source that she manages to snap back into place. She remembers blacking out and being partially rescued by Original Vampire, only to be taken hostage thanks to the same torture box and reawakening as the craft flies over the battlefield. They broke free and Sita destroyed most of what she now realizes were nuclear weapons (though one fell and incinerated Arjuna's enemies, giving a white person credit for an ancient Indian doctrinal miracle) while Original Vampire killed their captors and somehow shot the ship up above the sky. But when this is all she remembers, the Nazis go to burn her friend alive. It's enough motivation for Sita to strain for the hidden key right in front of everyone and free herself, brutally murdering the major but failing to stop the female torturer from drenching her in gasoline. Her friend smothers the flames with — you got it — the Veil of Veronica. The artifact heals Sita and gives her the strength to break them out, but when she tries to find her resistance leader lover, she's frightened away by the way the female torturer is standing outside the door, soaking up the pain of so many prisoners in bliss. 

I know! It's President Coroner! Enough with the same-same, Pike! This one is even happening NOW!

So that was Sita's mistake: leaving the pain-sucker alive and running away from her fear. And here she comes, walking up the hill toward Team Vampire with her captive and a young man that looks like Himmler fucked this devil woman. Or he might be reanimated or reincarnated; Pike never deigns to explain this dude. He does explain that the evil torturing lady is the same wife of the Demon Duke from way back, even though now she’s fair instead of dark (and, y’know, had her heart ripped out). She explains that they (the Nazis) already know what happened: Sita and Original Vampire flew off into space somehow, were rescued by beings of a higher plane, and found being returned to Earth so mundane and unsatisfying that they asked to have all memories of the spaceships erased. And the ship is still here, disguised as one of the giant trees. However, the damn thing is locked and will only open for someone who's been in it before. And Sita’s the only one alive who’s done so. You see the Nazis' problem. But it doesn't matter what Sita does or tries — she can't get the sumbitch to open. And this is a problem, the woman points out, because they made a deal. And now Sita sees through her dark, evil eyes, and realizes that the devil can probably possess and direct more than one measly human.

If she can't open the thing, Devil Lady says, Sita will have to go with them, or else they'll start killing her friends. She agrees, and in saying her goodbyes learns that New Spy has managed to translate the end of Veronica's journal. It was finished by her brother, it turns out, because she was crucified as a heretic and a woman taking credit for a man's job, but in her final moments she successfully stepped outside her mind and was enlightened, and that hers is the face on the veil. So Sita figures we can all become one with the universal consciousness that drives our higher powers — the same one powering Krishna, Jesus, Miracle Teen — and so maybe she'll be OK. And this is what it takes for the spaceship to appear to everyone. She goes to it, and sure enough it opens, meaning she has control and can save her friends. But before she can go in, Devil Lady shoots her in the inferior vena cava and bails with Young Himmler. And they are never seen again. (See what I meant by "sort of" at the beginning of this article? Dude's role is so small he could have been anyone. He literally doesn’t even have a LINE.)

But now Sita is dying, and New Spy takes charge. If she gets on the ship, he explains, she can transcend time and have as much as she needs to heal. How the shit does he know this? Well, it turns out that our regular dude has been possessed by his ten-thousand-years-in-the-future self, with technological knowledge beyond anyone in the present. He’s grown up in a timeline where Germany won the war, and so there is no mysticism left, only hard science. So when he discovered a loophole through this ancient technique of viewing the past, an ability to alter his own world and bring some magic to it, he leapt at the chance. This moment — Devil Lady and Baby Himmler escaping — was his fork in the road, the way he could alter his own future. And while he’s explaining, this magical ship does all the work, healing Sita and chasing the bad guys and blowing them up. Or at least that’s what he says. We don’t see it, because we know how much Pike readers hate action sequences (good.thing the entire first half of the book wasn’t one). And now they can set back down in the timeline, wherever they want to be.

So Sita ... 

goddamn, this is infuriating ...

Sita goes BACK TO ANCIENT INDIA TO KILL THE ORIGINAL VAMPIRE AGAIN. Only this time she’s gonna do it when he’s an adult, when he comes to whisk her away from her family.

Only he somehow knows about it. He knows everything. He knows about her plans, her ideas, her potential future. But he also knows that Sita’s greatest regret is that she was never able to live her normal human life with her truest love and her child, and is willing to accept his own death if she carries it out. And she realizes: Immortal Boyfriend came back too. And he’s inside his father, somehow. And she’s not sure she can kill him.

And that is where this mother fucking vampire saga, spanning eight books and almost twenty years, leaves us hanging.

According to Wikipedia (which, take it with a grain of salt; there’s no citation and I’ve already deleted two entries for books that don’t exist), Pike is working on three more Sita books, and plans to self-publish when they are done. He said that two and a half years ago. Are we ever going to see such a thing? Is the eleventh book in this series, as promised, the actual DEFINITIVE END of the Sita saga? Will we ever find out? Is he just gonna George Martin us until he dies? I say don’t hold your breath for another Thirst book. But I also thought Pike was done with YA when Alosha trailed off, and I thought he was done with YA when The Blind Mirror came out after a three-year absence, AND I thought he was done with Sita when she stabbed her dead best friend in the uterus and killed the unborn demon. So how much does what I say matter?

[berniesrevolution]

IN THESE TIMES

UNDER ORDINARY CIRCUMSTANCES, THE DEATH OF A HOMELESS WOMAN TRYING TO CROSS A ROAD IN ARIZONA WOULD BARELY AROUSE NOTICE. 

After all, about 16 pedestrians are killed every day on U.S. roads, and Arizona is one of the deadliest states.

But the March 18 death of Elaine Herzberg, 49, in Tempe, was an international news event. Herzberg—or “Miss Elle,” as she was known in Tempe’s homeless community—was struck by a Volvo SUV steered by Uber’s self-driving car technology.

She was the first pedestrian killed by a self-driving car.

Until recently, self-driving cars were an abstraction, a dreamy, far-off idea. Now they are literally crashing into us. Twenty-four U.S. cities are either running autonomous vehicle (AV) test programs or have committed to doing so, according to the Bloomberg Aspen Initiative on Cities and Autonomous Vehicles. Uber is one of more than a dozen firms racing to bring the technology to the market; some experts believe AVs could fully replace human-driven cars by 2040.

AVs are already influencing public policy. This spring, the Koch brothers’ group Americans for Prosperity helped defeat a $5.4 billion mass transit initiative in Nashville, in part by suggesting AVs would make such transit obsolete. In short, we are on the precipice of a major technological change, one that reshapes the way we live and travel in ways we can’t yet fully grasp.

In an oft-cited thought experiment, Robin Chase, co-founder of the car-sharing company Zipcar, offered two scenarios for how the self-driving revolution could unfold. She calls them “heaven” and “hell.”

In “heaven,” drawing on and expanding Chase’s vision, AVs usher in a new age of personal and civic well-being. Traffic deaths are eliminated; an 8-year-old child can bike to school in a major city without fear. As outdoor activity becomes safe and popular, public health outcomes improve. Urban dwellers rely on shared AVs and expanded public transit to get around and are largely freed from the financial burden of individual car ownership. Cities repair some of the damage done in the highway era. Massive surface parking lots are no longer needed, for example, and that space is repurposed for parks or desperately needed affordable housing. In a boon for the climate, AVs run on zero-carbon electricity. While some workers lose their jobs in the transition—such as bus drivers, truckers and delivery people—social policies like universal basic income help ensure a safety net.

In “hell,” however, AVs further entrench Americans’ already dysfunctional relationship with cars. Social isolation, congestion and inequality increase. Less concerned about long commutes, people sprawl across the countryside, eliminating farmland and establishing elite and exclusive communities far from the masses. The total number of miles driven increases exponentially, along with urban congestion. AV owners order their empty cars to cruise the city all day to avoid paying for parking. Buses are mired in heavy traffic or simply discontinued as public support for them erodes, leaving lower-income people stranded. The transition to AVs doesn’t coincide with a transition away from internal combustion engines. Passenger cars and trucks, already the source of roughly 15 percent of U.S. greenhouse gas emissions, increase their footprint dramatically, broiling the planet.

Right now, it’s unclear which direction we’re headed. But we are at an inflection point. The auto industry is pushing Congress to greenlight not only the testing of self-driving cars, but also sale to the public, currently lobbying a handful of Democratic holdouts in the Senate on a bill that would do just that. What’s lacking is what’s needed most: public oversight.

(An advertisement circa 1878 depicts a runaway car, playing on early fears and skepticism of the automobile. The ad proved prescient, as cars would enable sprawl that has eaten into farmland across the country.)

THE NEW MOTORDOM

According to University of Virginia historian Peter Norton, who studies the early automotive era, we’re on the brink of the most sweeping technological change in transportation since the transition from the horse and carriage to the car about a century ago.

We’re just starting to fully recognize what was lost in that transition: Huge portions of downtowns turned over to parking lots; thriving communities cut through by highways; the death of legacy transit like streetcars; white flight and urban depopulation. The auto revolution even caused political polarization, as suburbanization created increasingly homogenous communities with increasingly divergent interests.

The popular myth is that Americans in the early 20th century immediately embraced cars. But Norton argues that the American “love affair with the automobile,” as the auto industry presents it, was carefully manufactured. The introduction of cars into cities was met at first with skepticism, even horror. The public was aghast when hundreds of people—disproportionately children—were run over and killed in streets where just a few years earlier they had been free to roam and play. The front page of the New York Times in 1924 pictured a car with a human skull mounted on the hood. “Nation Roused Against Motor Killings,” read the headline.

In response, car companies and other auto interests—a set of forces that Norton calls “motordom”—launched a lobbying and publicity blitz. One key battle was the struggle for a resource that remains hotly contested: street space.

Streets had been gathering places where merchants sold goods and children played. Urbanites were reluctant to cede this territory to noisy, dangerous and noxious cars.

A turning point came when motordom introduced the term “jaywalker,” branding pedestrians as intruders in the rightful domain of drivers. In 1921, for example, auto clubs recruited Boy Scouts to distribute cards to pedestrians in Hartford, Conn., that explained “jay walking” and instructed them how to properly cross the street. In 1952, a more explicit card distributed in Cincinnati read “I am a jaywalker” and gave the recipient a choice of hospitals to be delivered to when she was struck.

There was continued resistance from engineers, planners and ordinary citizens, most notably New York City’s Jane Jacobs, the mother of contemporary urban planning, who fought expressways and advocated for mixed-use public space. But many urban planners, such as Jacobs’ nemesis Robert Moses, enthusiastically embraced the redesign of cities around cars. Zoning rules were overhauled to require a minimum number of parking spaces for most new development. Black and brown neighborhoods were torn down to make way for highways.

Norton sees echoes of motordom in the sunny depictions of an AV future. Ford’s website, for example, presents a “City of Tomorrow” with an enormous highway right through a city center. Norton points to a joint 2010 presentation by SAIC (a Chinese car manufacturer) and GM in Shanghai. The companies, he says, offered a vision of total auto dependence, imagining a world where “the minute you leave the door you’re in a pod of some kind looking at screens the whole time, and you never see anybody doing anything else.”

Tech and car companies developing self-driving vehicles, including Uber, Waymo, Ford and Volvo, established a lobbying group called the Self-Driving Coalition for Safer Streets in 2016. They hired the former head of the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, David Strickland, to lead the effort. The group has lobbied Congress—so far successfully—to keep collision data secret.

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