#sorry TV Show Guys if you put something on a rat the rat WILL instantly try to clean it off. they're not SLOVENLY!

[nostalgia-tblr]

'the batman': another film where instead of being horrified by the rats who being slandered i went "awwww, zoom in on their little pawsies! oh wow you actually got agoutis with normal ears in for your sewer rats,* well done. WEE NOSES!! OMG!!"

*you might think this is an obvious and easy win but oh wow the number of sewers and cloisters and catacombs infested with hooded dumbos would SHOCK you**

**if you know a perfectly normal amount about rats, as i do

[13uswntimagines]

She Might be a Forward, but You’re a Keeper (Emily Sonnett x Reader)

Request: Emily x reader where r doesn’t have the best reputation and is sorta known for being a troublemaker but once Emily comes into the picture everything changes. Livin’ The Dream by Morgan Wallen is what made this pop into head.

Author’s Note: Firstly, Firerfly and i thank the one voter so much for voting for this fic. Secondly this almost didn’t happen because my dumbass deleted from the doc just seconds after we had finished it. Thank you to @literaryhedgehog​ for saving it. 

“You have to do it Sonnett,” Lindsey said sternly, taking a sip of her drink and ignoring Emily’s puppy eyes. She wasn’t going to feel bad about this. It was only fair, since she was the one who got them caught. 

“Yeah,” Rose added, crossing her arms. “consider it your punishment for not following through on our prank on Pino.” Meghan had been pissed, and the lecture they had gotten did not seem to fit the crime, especially since they had been stopped. All they wanted to do was start an itsy bitsy prank war. Where was the harm in that?

“Oh come on.” Emily whined, glancing back and forth between the two girls and the woman standing on the other side of the room. “She would have murdered me if I let you put blue dye in her shampoo,” Emily said, her bottom lip trembling. 

“And now Y/n might kill you so we’re even,” Lindsey shrugged, fighting a smile. Whatever way this ended, it would be entertaining for her. 

Some might think that that it was a gross overstatement, but it wasn’t. You had a reputation. A terrifying history of explosions on the pitch, and a complete lack of approachability off of it. You didn’t give a shit what anyone thought, Alex and Kelley being the only exception, but you had known them forever so it didn’t count. 

You didn’t have many friends (contrary to what the public though), but you were viciously loyal to the people you actually let get close to you. 

The youngins had been warned that you did whatever (and whoever) you wanted and they should steer clear. You wouldn’t mess with them as long as they didn’t mess with you. 

The problem was that the blond defender was smitten from the first moment she saw you this season. When she had first joined the team you had just been another veteran and the excitement of joining the national team had overshadowed everything else. But then you transferred to Washington during Club season and she started noticing you everywhere.  Partially because you were everywhere- weaving around the field and her vision, at team events and now here at camp, and… she might have been caughts staring once or twice. Maybe Emily had tripped over her own feet a few times because she accidentally got distracted by the sight of you pouring water over your head after a hot practice, who's to say. Either way,  her two meddling best friends knew about her little crush and had decided to use it as blackmail. 

“I hate you guys,”  Emily said, downing half her drink for liquid courage. 

Lindsey rolled her eyes and shoved the defenders shoulder. “No you don’t,” 

“You better get your ass over there before she starts flirting with another girl,” Rose said with a disinterested wave of her hand, motioning towards the dejected Brunette walking away from you. There was a parade of women all night, and it seemed none of them were having any luck. 

Your eyes followed the woman as she left, but your face didn’t betray any emotions, appearing completely uncaring to anyone who happened to glance in your direction. 

Emily nodded. It was now or never she supposed. 

*****

You took an uninterested sip of you beer, swirling your finger around the glass when you set it back down on the bar. You had never exactly found team bar nights fun. It felt like thousands of people would come up and talk to you (and call you by name) and expect you to instantly be their friend. 

You didn’t need anymore friends. 

You took another sip of your flat beer, making a mental note to chastise Alex later for her terrible bar choice, and stared listlessly at the football (American style) game on the tv. 

“Hey, wanna hear a joke about paper?” You turned slowly to look at the speaker. You squinted at the blond defender, tilting your head to the side, not letting your surprise that a youngin actually had the balls to talk to you off the pitch show on your face. 

She scratched the back of her head grinning impishly at you. “Never mind, it’s tearable.”

You raised your eyebrow at the woman, you lips ticking up slightly at her adorable fidgeting. 

That seemed to give her confidence, as she set her drink down and slid into the unaccompanied stool next to you. 

“Why didn’t the vampire attack Taylor Swift? She had bad blood.” 

You suppressed your snort at the terrible joke, hiding it behind a sip of your bad beer. 

“It’s more fun if you actually let me respond before you hit me with the punchline,” You smirked, thoroughly entertained by the pink starting to bloom on the defenders cheeks. 

“Oh, my bad.” Emily said, making an embarrassed face. “Sorry, I often tell dad jokes- most of the time he laughs!’

This time you did snort, the smile you were holding back finally cracking across your lips. 

“Just most of the time? Sounds to me like you need to get a better one,”

“Is that a challenge I hear?” Emily said, a wicked gleam in her eye. A terrible joke competition was right up her alley.

“Not at all. I could never compete with someone with your… particular skill set. You should be a magician because you just make girls disappear,” You wiggled your fingers, mimicking a magical motion. 

“Ouch,” Emily said, holding back giggles. 

“You could let me ice that burn as consolation,” You shrugged, also holding in a giggle. 

“Nah, I just need to wait a little for it to warm back up. You know what the hottest time of day is?”

“No, what?”

“Two- flirty!”

You cackled loudly, nearly throwing your head back. 

****

“Is the Ice Queen actually smiling?” Kelley asked, sliding into the booth beside Alex, passing a disgustingly fruity drink to her girlfriend. 

“It appears so,” Alex nodded, pushing the stupid mini unbrella out of her way to take a sip. 

Her eyes followed your laughing form, taking in how your eyes lit up, and the way you leaned closer to the blond defender. It wasn’t your typically cocky posture when you talked to girls, you seemed much more unguarded. 

“Who knew Junior had it in her. I never thought she’d work up the courage,” Kelley smirked over the edge of her drink. Emily’s crush on you wasn’t a secret (to the two of them at least), but they never dreamed Emily would actually make a move. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Y/n look at anyone like that.” Alex started thoughtfully. “Well maybe-”

“We don’t speak her name Alex,” Kelley interrupted with a glare. They didn’t talk about your previous relationship. It had nearly ruined you completely. 

Rose and Lindsey joined Alex and Kelley where they were standing, all four trying to hide the fact that they were staring at you and Emily together. 

“You enjoying the show too?” Rose said, shaking her head slightly as she watched. What the heck could you two be talking about? For a few seconds she saw you talk animatedly then - in unison with Emily - double over in laughter. 

“You know something about this that we don’t?” Alex asked, glancing at the two younger players. 

Rose and Lindsey exchanged a look. “Sonnett’s only over there because we made her,” Lindey said. 

“How?”

“Told her we’d rat her out to Vlatko for the snack incident last camp,” Rose shrugged. Revenge was best served with blackmail. 

“I didn’t know she had a soft side,” Lindsey said after a few minutes. 

“Only a few people actually get to see it,” Kelley shrugged. You were guarded but not heartless. It just took a special touch to break that cast iron shell. 

****

“Okay, okay. So I know a guy who's great at soccer but is super untidy.”

“You do?” You asked, biting your lip. You weren’t sure why you were suddenly nervous. 

“Yeah, he’s just a Messi guy!” Emily said, already laughing on the last word. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I think these are just getting worse,” 

“Oh come on, you were the one who told the one about a frog liking hoppy beer,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “I think that one was objectively worse.”

“Whatever you say cutie pie,” you said, leaning forward on your hand. You weren’t usually this interested in conversation. You were more of an… in and out kinda girl. But there was something about Emily that intrigued you. That pulled you in and made you want to know more about her than just her bedroom preferences. 

“Pie sounds so good right now,” Emily said sighing deeply. “I don’t even have a joke to go with that, I just like pie. Although I think I read one at some point for Pi day, I could google it…” 

“I don’t know any jokes either, but I do know a place pretty close to here if you wanted to ditch these losers,” You offered, picking idly at your napkin. 

“Losers? I didn’t know the men’s team was here!” Emily smirked. You didn’t know if she was blowing you off, or just completely missed what you were implying. 

“See that one was actually a good one. Those idiots wouldn’t know how to score if they were shooting at the broadside of a barn,” You shook your head. Half of the women’s team midfield had better finishing stats than all the men’s forwards. They were terrible. 

“Oh come on. They’re not that bad. At least 9% of them are keepers,” Emily laughed. “Well that’s their position anyway. But yes, I would love to go get some pie with you. Just don’t tell Dawn I broke my diet.” 

“No promises Princess,” You said standing, and holding out your hand to the woman. You kissed the back of her hand when she laced her fingers with yours, earning yourself another giggle. 

It made your heart flutter, and you just wanted more. 

“You sure you’re okay missing the end of the party?” Emily said hopefully, scanning as if to make sure no one would waylay you on your way out the door. The last thing she wanted was to get stopped by one of your parade of brunettes. 

“Better than okay. The word happiness might start with an H, but mine starts with U.” 

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

Hello Freddy and Handeemen Friends Chapter 1

Another big day of filming has officially come to a close for those who worked at the studio where a popular kids show named Mortimer’s Handeemen was filmed. The show had a cast of four puppets teaching kids and engaging them in the segments, it would film episodes over six days a week for about five hours per day with lunch breaks and “staged” rehearsals happening in between.

Mortimer himself was very aware of things going on, he was capable of his own thoughts and expressing his feelings like the other puppets who had evolved from being operated by puppeteer to being fully independent and going about on their own accord, just as long as they listen to their creator Owen Gubberson, which was an agreeable enough condition.

Mortimer in between filming and rehearsals liked reading the paper, that why if he went to the front reception and couldn’t find the paper where it should be on the desk, he would get irritated. Today such hasn't happen so he was happily reading the newspaper while having tea with milk and sugar.

He had come into the annual six month TV reviews in the kids category he saw his own show was now rating second below a show called Freddy Fazbear and Friends. He was annoyed, he had seen the name before, from what he understood and heard, the show was about four friends who were different animal types like a bear, bunny, chicken and fox, they had unique adventures about their world and the human world.

He didn’t quite know how Freddy and Friends had suddenly become so much better than his show, it was educational too but not exactly as entertaining, maybe because they had more merchandise than them, and they had a big friendly bear, that seemed to fascinate kids, despite Mortimer knew bears in reality were actually quite vicious and should never be approached in the wild.

Maybe a word with Owen wasn’t out of order, maybe he could suggest an idea to ensure kids were watching his show and not Freddy and Friends.

Owen was often busy and finding a spare minute to talk to him wasn’t easy, he was almost always writing scripts, ideas and talking to other cast members. Usually he would only have a few minutes in between tasks he was doing to be able to have a short conversation.

“Greeting Owen! Could I have a moment with you to have a word with you alone?” Mortimer asked him.

“Well of course, what is on your mind Mortimer?”

“It’s come to many attention that-”

“Excuse me Mr. Gubberson?” Mortimer saw a female human in the doorway, he knew she worked at the front reception as he would see her every morning at the desk answering the phone when it rang and even handing the paper to Mortimer, “You have a phone call from Henry Emily, said it's about the concept you said, he said he can only speak to you now due to the recording schedule,”

“Oh shoot, sorry Mortimer, this phone call is important, I'll get back to you once I'm off the phone,” Owen spoke.

“It's fine to attend to your business!” Mortimer understood perfectly well why the phone call was important. Any phone call Owen needed to answer was very important due to the schedule. Owen walked away and the woman vanished from the doorway.

So whilst waiting for Owen to conclude his phone call, Mortimer went to see what Riley Ruckus was setting up in the science experiment set.

Owen walked pass all the sets and entered his small office which was situated at the back of the building. The room had blue prints and episode cards all over the walls, and a desk full of post it notes he had written, all ranged from ideas of episodes to things he needed to do like “Talk to Riley about allowing her to walk Roscoe around the studio”. On the desk was a corded telephone, he lifted up the receiver and spoke, “Front Reception please transfer my current call to this one,”

“One moment Mr. Gubberson” The person on the other end replied.

“Hello?”

“Hello Henry” Owen replied

“Owen! I do apologise for not being able to get back to you until now, having twin kids and running my own television show is hectic!” The voice on the other end replied.

“How are your children anyway?” Owen inquired just being generally curious, he had no interest in being a parent himself but he saw what joy it brought to other people.

“Good… I mean I do lose sleep but they're normal kids….. So I thought about our cooperation!” Henry spoke.

Owen was surprised, “You did…..? Forgive me, I thought you forgot….”

“Like I said twin children and a show, I have barely no time on my plate! Anyway, my wife has the in-laws to help her and we can get the crew set up by tomorrow! We're just putting the final touches on the next episode!”

“So…. We can do the friendship day special?” Owen asked.

“Of course! I think the kids will love it! Two different shows coming together and doing all sorts of wonderful friendly activities!�� Owen sensed, as he knew Henry quite well, that he was smiling.

“Really? We can do it here?”

“We'll all be there on Saturday! So everyone can get acquainted! I look forward to it Owen!”

“Me too! I'll see you on Saturday!”

“Goodbye!” Henry ended with a cheerful tone that suggested he was indeed beaming from ear to ear. Owen put down the phone, he himself was quite happy, this could bring a lot of attention, but then realised he needed to address the puppets about this. Only him and Henry knew about this idea as far as he knew, maybe Henry already told them what exactly would be happening.

Riley was showing Mortimer how she had invented a cute sock puppet rat that could glow in the dark that would help kids who were afraid of the dark. Riley always came up with such ingenious concepts that amazed Mortimer, and she had such an indescribable passion for it, she'd ramble for hours without taking a single breath if she wanted to. Owen walked into the set where Riley's lab was set up, and saw the design she drew up on chalk board, he took a minute to look at all the writing Riley had placed on the chalk board and nodded.

“Are you interested?” Riley inquired noticing his attention being on the design.

“It’s simple and cute,” Agreeing with what Mortimer was saying about it, “I see the concept you're creating, I need to have a word with you two,” Owen said.

“Should Roscoe stay?” Riley asked gesturing to her large dog, Roscoe was asleep on the ground, curled up near the heater, one of his favourite place to sleep at any given time.

“He can come if he wants,” Owen responded walking out the set, Mortimer and Riley followed.

“Nick Nack! Daisy! Can you come here for a minute?” He yelled in the general direction of their dressing rooms.

Nick had appeared from his room, holding a paint brush, obviously he was in the middle of painting, whereas Daisy just appeared from her room humming a little tune. All stood in front of him, waiting for what he’d say, so Owen finally spoke, “So you know how we always so something special for Friendship day?”

“Of course!” Mortimer's favourite episodes were when they did Friendship day specials, so many interesting storylines and many friendships could be created between the kids in the episodes, better than Christmas. Friendship was important to every child.

“Well I did something really good, have you heard about Freddy and Friends?”

“Yes and I was going to inform you that they're ranking better according to the summary of the last six months,” Mortimer had finally told him what he read.

Owen had ignored his comment it seemed as he continued, “Well you know a guy called Henry Emily? He use to work in the studio as my understudy so he could understand how to create a TV show, he's creator of Freddy and Friends. I just got off the phone with him.”

Where would this lead? Everyone was wondering.

“He’s going to bring Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy down here to the studio! We're going to cooperate and make a crossover Friendship day special that shows unity across different shows! Isn’t it a wonderful idea? It's unique!”

Silences.

“I beg your pardon?” Mortimer asked in a seemingly extremely annoyed way, the tone instantly caused Owen to carefully think his next few responses.

“We do a lot of fun things but they're all kind of the same concept, I consider Henry a great acquaintance. We need to keep kids engaged, I have a rough plan for each segment which will include things like a joint painting between Nick Nack and Bonnie, who is also really artistic. “

“I do apologise, but I refuse to share with a giant rabbit, No, it won’t happen, he is not allowed in my studio,” Nick had snarled at the very idea.

“Bonnie is also a very clean rabbit, he won’t make a mess if that's what you concerned about,” Owen answered, he wanted to make sure he was answering any questions they asked.

“How would you know that?” Mortimer asked in an accusingly tone.

“I sometimes…. Watch it with my nephews, you know… you haven’t actually met them…. Maybe you should meet them, and my sister also… They enjoy the show, they are the biggest fans of Foxy… They also watch this show, but it's mainly because your shows are on different times, this show is on Tuesdays and Fridays at 4:00pm, their show is on Fridays at 6:00pm.”

“I do see that reasoning, how old are your nephews?” Mortimer questioned, this was his first time hearing of these kids who were related to Owen.

“Five and twelve. Would you be okay if I invited them to come into the studio?” Owen did wonder if he could let them come by when they weren’t in school as they appeared intrigued by his show and the characters.

“If they don’t disturb anything, they are welcomed!” Mortimer nodded, always having a unspoken policy of allowing children on set just as long as they behaved, “But back to the problem at hand-”

“Mortimer, I don’t see any problem,” Owen said. He honestly couldn’t see any problems that couldn’t be solved.

“I don’t think we would get along,” Mortimer countered, “We’ve never met and one of them is a bear Owen! Bears in real life are vicious!”

“They might surprise you, even if you might have nothing in common with them, but some friends just don't have anything in common but they still like talking to one other, just… try and see if we can all get along, they'll be here on Saturday after filming, alright?” Owen asked.

They muttered in agreement.

“And if anything is very wrong, we can just shut down the idea,” He suggested, Mortimer nodded at him and both him and Mortimer felt some reassurance.

[grootiez]

Rocket’s Special Space Ramen!

“Shut up, Quill! I DO NOT CARE what you have to say!” Rocket yells as he slams the front door in Peter’s face as the Guardians, except for Kraglin, who stayed back to babysit Groot, came home from shopping at the local grocery store.

Rocket stormed off towards his and Groot’s room, which was more of a nursery right now to cater towards the sapling’s needs, but Rocket still had a corner that had a small cramped workbench that was stuffed with parts for different weapons that the pyromaniac raccoon was building.

As Rocket walked by, Groot stirred in his crib and cooed, peaking out and smiling from beneath his blanket.

Rocket stopped in his tracks so that he could unhinge the pair of swinging doors on the side of the crib that made it easier for him to tuck Groot in at night and get him up in the morning or after a nap. Groot smiles and coos at his father.

“Yeah, I missed you too.” Rocket couldn’t help but return the smile his son gave him as he took the blanket off of the tiny tree who was wearing an adorable blue onesie that Mantis had sewn for him that had his idol, Bob Ross, on the front.

Rocket’s nose then smells something foul as he picked Groot up. “Did Kraglin change your diaper before your nap?”

“Ugh! Gross!” The raccoon immediately answered his own question as he repositioned Groot in his arms and placed one of his paws underneath him.

Rocket takes Groot over to the changing table and lays him down before grabbing a baby wipe and cleaning his hands. He then reaches for a rattle and gives it to Groot to distract him as Rocket changed him. Upon further inspection, Rocket discovers that the diaper Groot was wearing leaked through to his onesie and he needed to get a new one on. In the middle of all of this, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Hey, uh, Rat?” Kraglin cautiously opens it, having heard the raccoon struggle with changing Groot and remembering that Groot always has a fresh diaper on him before he takes his afternoon nap everyday, which he forgot to do. “Are ya busy?”

“No, Kraglin.” Rocket replies sarcastically as he finished up and getting Groot dressed in a new yellow onesie that had rockets all over it. Rocket then picks up Groot and cradles him in his arms.

“I! am! Groooot!” The seedling shouts as he squirms in Rocket’s arms, wanting to be put down. “Alright, Groot. I forgot that Bob Ross is starting soon.” Rocket concedes as he placed the tree on the ground. Groot crawls towards the staircase before climbing on top of the banister and using it as a slide to get downstairs faster. “Hehe, resourceful, ain’t he?”

“Yup.” Kraglin agrees as he scratches his head. “Whatever you say.”                                              ————————— An hour passes, and Rocket was still angry with Peter. Whenever he tried to reconcile, Rocket just gave off a warning snarl and Peter just backed off, not wanting to get bit, but the desire to apologize was not worth the risk.

Rocket continues his way down the hallway until he sees Kraglin in the kitchen. The angry Procyon didn’t acknowledge the Xandarian, just huffing as he walked by and took a seat on the counter.

“Hey Rat.” Kraglin greeted, trying to change Rocket’s mood. “How is everything?”

Rocket didn’t respond.                                           ———————— A short while later, the door swung open again and a very angry, (but still adorable) Groot came storming into the kitchen and using his arms, outstretches them so he could climb up next to Rocket before dramatically sitting down on his father’s lap.

“Hey Twig.” Kraglin waves to Groot, who ignores him. “Oh, sorry...”

Rocket knows that when the tree refuses to say hello to someone that he’s extremely angry at something. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

“I am Groot!” The child pouts.

“Whoa, language!” Rocket scolds his son. “But since it’s Star-Dump, I’ll let it slide. What’d he do now?”

Groot looks at Rocket and in all seriousness says, “I am Groot.” He explains while punching an imaginary figure that was Peter.

“He turned off Bob Ross to watch some stupid FOOTBALL GAME?!?!” Rocket couldn’t believe that Peter would snatch the remote and change the channel on the Bob Ross-obsessed toddler. “Just out of curiosity, who was playing?”

“I am Groot.” The tiny tree replied.

Rocket facepalms. “The Miami Dolphins and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers? Ugh, those teams SUCK! And then he turned the station to watch the Dallas Cowgirls and the New England Cheatriots?!”

“I am Groot.” Groot corrected his father.

“I don’t care what the NFL calls them!” Rocket stated. “I call them by what the fanbase calls them and that’s Cowgirls and Cheatriots. NOT ‘Cowboys’ and ‘Patriots.’ Plus, Bill BeliCHEAT and Tom Brady should be banned from football! Especially after SpyGate and DeflateGate!”

Groot was upset at having his TV time cut short. “I am Groot.”

“Hey, we will make him pay.” Rocket vows to Groot.

“I am Groot?”

Rocket shook his head. “Nah. You gotta think bigger than just switching his coffee to decaf.” The raccoon then chuckled. “Although that would be hilarious...”

Kraglin was rifling through the cupboards. “Noooo! We have no soup!” He then turns back to face Rocket and Groot. “Hey, guys, I’ll be back in an hour and then we’ll continue thinking of ways to prank Cap’n.”

Groot then tugs at Rocket’s jumpsuit. “I am Groot?”

Rocket then knelt down. “I like the way you think! Of course pranking Quill with food would be hysterical! But what food would be perfect to do so?” He strokes his whiskers deep in thought.

“Well, there’s a dish on Terra that would be perfect.” Kraglin suggests. “It’s called Ramen and according to the internet you can put anything and everything in it.” Kraglin then hands over his tablet to Rocket, who looks at it and cackles. “I think this recipe would be perfect!”

Rocket smiles as he shows Groot the recipe, who joins in on the laughter. “Alright, Kraglin, you convinced us. Let’s go!”

“Wait, Rat, we have to go to Terra.” Kraglin states.

“I know.” Rocket acknowledges as he helps Groot put his coat on. He then turns back to Kraglin. “What’re we waiting for?”

“Um, Rat, we have to go to Walmart.” Kraglin began, but Rocket didn’t pay attention as he grabbed Groot’s diaper bag and threw it over his shoulder as he carried Groot. “Aren’t you and Twig banned from there after the time you guys went to get Thanksgiving dinner?” Rocket suddenly remembers himself and Groot getting arrested on Earth and brought back home. He then puts down Groot and all of his stuff. “Don’t worry, I know what to get and I’ll be back in a few hours.” He assured them as he grabbed the keys to the Milano and headed out.                                                  ——————— Two hours later, Kraglin returned from Walmart without getting arrested. He entered the kitchen where Rocket and Groot were waiting.

“I was able to get almost everything.” Kraglin announces as he placed the bags down.

Rocket searches all the bags. “Where’s the chicken?”

“Uh, about that.” Kraglin wasn’t sure how to describe his trip to Walmart. He looked like he was in a war zone with his clothes torn up and hair all raggedy. “It would turn out that the Terrans are freaking out about something that they can’t see and they went crazy in Walmart and by the time I fought my way back to where they keep the chicken, they were all out.” He then gets out a 50 pack of 2-ply toilet paper and a gallon jug of Purell. “But hey, I got the last of the toilet paper and this stuff called Purell. The checkout lady says that stuff is going for a lot of money on the internet. I figure that I can make even more money if I put the hand sanitizer into tiny little bottles and sell the toilet paper by the square.” “I like that plan!” Rocket was proud that his ways of conning people out of their hard-earned money was finally rubbing off on Kraglin. His attention then turned back to the task at hand. “But the ramen won’t look as weird without the chicken feet. You got any other ideas for what we could use?”

“Actually, I got the perfect thing!” Kraglin exclaims as he placed a rotting animal carcass on the counter. “A fresh, dead Orloni! Courtesy of me running over it five minutes ago.”

Rocket rubs his paws in excitement. “Perfect!”

As Kraglin and Rocket worked on the ramen, Groot was given the very important task of keeping everyone else, especially Peter, away from the kitchen. The toddler found that the easiest way was to brandish two steak knives that were as long as he was tall and swinging them haphazardly as the tiny tree ran after them while screaming at the top of his lungs.

Meanwhile, Rocket cut, sliced, and gutted the Orloni just like he did with the turkeys that he and Groot got from Walmart not too long ago. The raccoon cut off the legs, tail, and head as he expertly placed the meat in with the rest of the ingredients that Kraglin was preparing. (He was the Guardians’ resident expert in all things soup and soup-related.)

After the ramen was ready and poured into Peter’s favorite bowl, Groot came back after chasing Drax away.

“I am Groot?” The toddler asks as he pointed to something green that was on the counter.

“This stuff is called wasabi, Twig, and it’s very spicy.” Kraglin divulges as he opened up the pack. “I went into this specialty store after I left Walmart and the lady said that this is the authentic wasabi, as the stuff sold in the regular stores is just imitation.”

“Really?” Rocket demands as he grabbed the mysterious green paste and took a pea-sized piece and ate it. “It ain’t all that bad-. HOLY CRAP!” He screams as he spit it out and ran straight for the fridge as he got out a water bottle. He then saw Groot break off an even larger marble-sized piece and place it inside his mouth. “GROOT, NO!” But it was too late, Groot already swallowed the wasabi and instantly regretted it, screaming bloody murder. Rocket made Groot drink from his water bottle to ease the taste in his mouth.

“I was gonna warn you-.” Kraglin apologizes as Rocket put Groot down and began to rub the inside and outside of the Orloni’s carcass and legs with the wasabi. “What’re you doing?”

“Giving Star-Munch an unexpected surprise...” Rocket divulges as he finished up. “Hm... it’s still missing something...”

Groot pointed at the orloni’s head. “I am Groot!”

“Great idea, Groot!” Rocket commends the child as he opened the orloni’s mouth and placed a tiny ball bearing inside before placing it inside the bowl. The head sinks to the bottom, another surprise in store for their Fearless Leader.

“You two are weird...” Kraglin states before he left.                                                  ———————— It was dinner time, the Guardians were all gathered around the table. Rocket was able to get Groot into his high chair for the first time on his own. Kraglin went back into the kitchen to get everyone’s food, as each person wanted something different to eat tonight.

“Hey, Quill, me and Groot want to let ya know that we’re not mad at you for being an even bigger idiot than usual.” Rocket implies as Kraglin set the bowl in front of Peter. “So we made you something special. Hope you enjoy it.”

“Does the sarcasm come with the meal?” Peter asked.

“No, that’s complimentary.” Rocket answers as Peter ate the ramen.

“This is good, Rocket. A little spicy but-.” Peter then discovers the floating Orloni head in the ramen. “What the-?!”

Peter ran to the bathroom to throw up. He, Rocket and Groot were even now.

@trashpandaorigins @madness-on-the-milano @butterflyinthewell @blaketoziers @canuckscot @i-sudoku @janetgenea @lothirielswanmarvel @madcatz6277 @netbug009 @pineapple-crow @rocket-roquill-raccoon @rocket-ringtail-raccoon @rr4901 @skarabrae-stone @sesshouki @thatcrappypuppy @vic394 @woozletania @whoop-whoop-grocket

Read on Ao3.

[popatochisssp]

Obviously no pressure, but if you wanted to share your ideas on house pets, there would be great interest from at least one person. But headcanons are closed and I totally respect that (this very ask aside sorry). No pressure to do anything!!! just wanted to let you know that it seems like fun info.

Sans (Undertale): Strongly inspired by a fantastic fanfiction I can’t recommend enough, he has a cat affectionately named Catsup (Norwegian Forest Cat). Of course he does. Pretty typical story here, he more or less went to a shelter, locked onto the biggest, fattest cat there, and filled out the paperwork to damn her to a life of having a pun for a name. He...may have only gone to the shelter because he was hardcore struggling with depression and his brother read somewhere that pets can help a little, but that's...that’s neither here nor there. Catsup turned out to be a perfect fit for Sans in spite of his initial attitude of, 'I'm only doing this to make Papyrus happy'-- she's probably just about as chill and lazy as the skeleton himself, content to flop over just about anywhere, anytime and hang out. Her laidback nature was a blessing for Sans, a first-time cat-owner who didn't really know what he was doing or what she needed right away. A more high-maintenance cat probably wouldn't have been as forgiving and there'd have been a lot more stress on everybody before he got it figured out. Now, he considers Catsup his best little pal and doesn't even need to be reminded to change out her bowls and her litter. He's surprisingly responsible, when he actually really cares about something.

Catsup’s Quirks: Likes it when you gently slap her belly, always gravitates towards the room with the most people in it, often appears in unusual places that it seems like she shouldn't have been able to get to

Papyrus (Undertale): He...begrudgingly missed working with the Canine Unit once the Royal Guard was officially disbanded... It took him awhile to be able to openly admit he was interested in getting a dog, and when he did, he had standards-- it had to be a smart dog, one that could learn tricks and follow rules, unlike a certain annoying creature that’s plagued his life and home and special attacks in the past!!! So he did a lot of breed research, found a local, ethical breeder for the kind he was looking for, and went to pick out a pup. Spike (Border Collie), so named for his incredible coolness, is a perfect fit for his energetic skeleton friend and loves to run, exercise, and learn new tricks all the time!

Spike’s Quirks: Learned to wipe his feet before coming inside just by watching Papyrus do it, hams up his tricks and sometimes does them without prompting, never leaves the park without an impractically large stick to bring home

Sky (Underswap Sans): You will literally never get him to admit the real reason he got a dog companion because he knows in his heart of hearts that it’s such a silly reason... He saw a video online of a dog delicately eating a watermelon and while most people would’ve had a kneejerk reaction of, “I NEED TEN,” but not gotten any, he had the same reaction and just...talked himself down to one. And so came Poff (Samoyed), a big ol’ floofer who’s a lot like her master when it comes to levels of energy and affection. She’s happy to follow him around on patrols, training sessions, and even through obstacle course...so of course, she tends to get very dirty very quickly. Luckily, Sky’s diligence in grooming her keeps her coat as white and fluffy as her namesake!

Poff’s Quirks:  Loves baths, tap dances at the mention of treats, doesn't chew her toys and just hoards them instead

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): He wasn’t really in the market for a dog, himself. He was just along for the ride when his bro was picking up Poff, when he happened to hear the most hilarious sing-screaming sound he’d ever heard in his life. He followed it all the way to the little fellow who would soon be known as Smoochie (French Bulldog), and he sure seemed upset about...something? He never really figured out why, he was laughing too hard from hearing a sound like that come out of something so small and weird-looking. He didn't try to adopt Smoochie that day, much as he loved his sound, but he found himself going back to the shelter a couple times just to check on and play with him. After two or three months with no one else adopting the little prima-donna, he figured he might as well commit and take him home. He's a fun little dude and Paps hasn't regretted it for a second, but he's forever in denial about just how much of a Dog Dad he's become since. It's totally normal to carry your dog around in the hood of your sweatshirt, isn't it???

Smoochie’s Quirks: Screams a lot, will eat food out of peoples’ hands if they’re not paying attention, jumps higher than it seems like he should be able to

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Like most things in his life, he didn’t put a whole lot of planning or forethought into getting a dog. He was out one night, decently drunk, and a friend of a friend of a friend of a coworker was talking about this dumb dog he had that was supposed to be a guard dog but couldn't do it worth a damn because he was too friendly. The guy was yammering about how to get rid of it and something about that struck a chord with Jasper. It was pretty soon after monsters surfaced and maybe that's why it felt...important to him? He was probably just drunk and emotional and soft that he even stepped in or said anything, but it is what it is. He’s a skilled enough conman that it didn't take him long to talk the guy around in circles until he was willing to pay Jasper for the privilege of taking this animal off his hands and in short order, he was almost bowled over by the big dog that planted its paws on his shoulders at their first meeting. Jasper immediately renamed him from something cliché and 'intimidating' to Tubbs (Rottweiler) for how heavy the goofy bastard was and then brought him right home. His brother wasn't particularly pleased and swore he would not be caring for this beast, but he never had to; Jasper kinda missed having something trusting and affectionate to take care of, and Tubbs has been daddy's little fatty ever since.

Tubbs’ Quirks: Shreds even the heaviest duty toys, lays on people as if he were a lap dog, drools rivers if somebody's eating food around him

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Who am I to defy literal years of fanon...? His first meeting with Doomfanger (Persian) was about as clichéd as it gets-- a scrawny, dingy, scraggly and matted cat scurrying out of an alley in the rain. She went right up to him and, well... it was love at first mew. He scooped her right up, bestowed a fittingly intimidating name upon her, and took her home with him, in spite of the fact that she looked more like a mutant rat than a cat at the time. After shaving the mats off, bathing the dirt away, and getting her some regular food, though, Doomy actually ends up being an exceedingly beautiful feline! He credits his attentive care and grooming for her pristine, silvery fluff and will brag about it at a moment's notice, but he's just ever so slightly in denial about her sweet and gentle nature. Doomfanger is a vicious killing machine, a true apex predator that nothing stands a chance against! That's...that’s obviously why he carries her around so much... And why he plucks her away from any other animal that comes near her like some sort of mother hen-- he's minimizing the bloodshed! If he let her loose, there would be no survivors!

Doomfanger’s Quirks: Meows in peeps, avid shadow-chaser, extremely receptive to handling

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Hey, anyone remember FGTC? This one cameo’d in that fic, she may seem familiar~ So...he wanted a pet. At first, he thought a cat would be good, fierce independent hunters that they’re reputed to be...but after spending time with a lot of cats and not really clicking with any, he was forced to concede that he was just more of a dog person. In hindsight, of course that’s what he was looking for: a loyal companion to (literally, ha!) dog his steps and follow his orders. Before he can actually, intentionally start looking for one, though, the universe works its magic and he finds one digging around in the garbage out behind the house. The emergency vet he brings the scarred and skeletal stray to tells him that, judging by her injuries, she was probably bait in some dog-fighting ring somewhere and got thrown away when she wasn’t useful anymore. Well. Fuck that, Princess (Pitbull) deserves better than that, and she’ll have it! He takes on the duty of nursing her back to health and earning her trust and it isn’t long before she shows her true colors as the loviest sweetheart of a dog that ever was. She’s utterly useless as an attack/guard dog, but her barks are loud and intimidating, and she obeys commands at the drop of a hat, so Mal doesn’t hold that against her. She goes with him just about anywhere she’s allowed and he shows her off with the same enthusiasm you’d expect for a pedigreed Best in Show dog.

Princess’ Quirks: Wags with her entire butt, will kiss the moment someone’s face is in range, barks at doorbells both real and on TV

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): He didn’t mean to get a cat, not really... He was just following along with his brother when Mal was kicking around the idea of getting one, and Mal may not have clicked with anybody there, but he sure did. Actually... Kitkat (Manx) may have picked him and he’s just along for the ride. Kitkat was kinda young at the time, a little smaller than all the rest and also...no tail??? But what a personality, loud and playful and super sweet and...when it was time to leave the shelter, he just...he couldn’t bring himself to do it without her, he was in love! It’s mutual, at least-- she latched right onto him pretty much instantly and is pretty much never not with him whenever he’s at home, following him around from room-to-room.

Kitkat’s Quirks: Bone-rattlingly loud purrs, loves to play fetch, prone to 3AM zest for life and zooming all around the house accordingly

Slate (Horrortale Sans): I actually wrote about this one! But the gist of it is...he likes cats. Eventually got confident enough to go get one and zeroed right in on the weirdest-looking, least adoptable cat in the shelter he volunteers at. Slinky (Cornish Rex) was deaf, kinda ugly, and a whole lotta weird, but hell, she’ll fit right in at home, yeah? And so she does! She wrecks a lotta shit and is loud as hell, but stuff is only stuff and Slate’s never had an issue with noise. Actually...she really helps him out with his sleep and focus issues, it’s hard to drop off or dissociate when you have a cat in your lap, yelling at you at batting your face because it’s Play Time or Dinner Time, wake the fuck up!!! She’s a bastardous gremlin, but he loves her to bits.

Slinky’s Quirks: Clumsy and bad at judging distances, loves ankle-looping, insists on sniffing all people-food but never actually tries to eat it

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): Following the trauma of the underground and the ensuing massive outpouring of empathy from humanity at large, monsters were made aware of many therapeutic resources that they could take advantage of, one of which was therapy animals. Papy naturally thought this was a wonderful idea...for other monsters, who were of course far more psychologically-damaged and not quite so good at enduring as himself. But...his brother does volunteer at an animal shelter, and he goes to visit him on occasion so he's made friends with a lot of animal people. This is how he hears about a therapy dog in need of a new forever-home due to complicated circumstances with her former owner, and well... it would be rude not to offer the Lady (Borzoi) a place to stay! He’s surprised by her appearance at first, having expected something more like a golden retriever or some kind of shepherd??? But he's very quickly charmed by her and actually feels more than a little bit of kinship with her no stranger to being long and oddly proportioned, himself-- and they're both doing their best to make it look graceful instead of weird. Since Lady proves to be a sweet and gentle-mannered dog, Papy just sort of...never bothers trying to find other accommodations for her. She’s welcomed wholeheartedly into their home, which she repays with plenty of unconditional love and effortless emotional support!

Lady’s Quirks: Spins in circles when excited, very polite when begging for table scraps, never barks but howls often

[gutterdreams]

Mending Babylon [Billy Hargrove]

Word Count: 5.6 k.

Warning: Swearing

Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things or the GIF below.

Masterlist

Random idea that’s been dancing around in my mind. Please, enjoy. I think after this I’ll work on a new part of a previous story.

“I was so worried!” It had been ten minutes since Billy showed up at your place, being pointed downstairs to the basement by your mom, but you were still going on and on even though his eyes had rolled shut and his tired head was leaning limp against the top of the brown corduroy couch. “I had no idea where you were.”

“I’m here now and I’m fine.” Sighing instead of groaning, a decision he made consciously, Billy said for the second time. He preferred the first time he said with your arms wrapped around his cold body and your head pressed to his chest.

“You said you would call if you were going to be late.” You droned on, reminding him of the fuck up he was already well aware of. He had beat himself up mentally on the drive over from the gig your Dad scored him doing landscaping for a friend’s company. It wasn’t until he had his work gloves off and he was tossing his bag in the backseat of his car that he realized he had worked two hours overtime and didn’t call you to say so. He knew you would be unhappily waiting.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Finally, he apologized. Billy opened his eyes and saw you pull your flailed out arms into a loose cross around your chest. You looked just as tired as he was, but your bottom lip was warbling and eyes studying him like he was a rat in a cage. He hated when you looked at him with a sympathetic stare like that. “I forgot…” He muttered and then pat the spot on the couch next to him. “But, I’m here now so let’s just watch a movie. It’s the only thing I’ve been looking forward to today.” He was working a job at Steve Harrington’s house and it made him feel gross and angry inside that he was working his ass off outside, building their gorgeous patio, while Steve just sat inside and dicked off. It made Billy feel like a servant to someone he wholeheartedly loathed. Over and over again, like a mantra, he reminded himself that he was working to save money so that you two could move out the second school was over. He was Hellbent on returning to California, but he wanted to take one thing fro Hawkins with him: you.

Reluctantly, you walked around the coffee table that Billy rested his feet on and sat beside him. With a small nudge from his arm draped behind you, you leaned into his chest and tried to calm down. He reached for the remote by his side and turned on your TV. You had put Commando in the VCR an hour ago when you figured Billy was coming over. Even though you wanted to see Desperately Seeking Susan, you rented the Arnold Schwarzenegger film for him because you knew how much the Harrington project was bothering him. It was the least you could do. His stomach growled under your ear, but when you turned your head to check up on him, he just waved you away as if to say: ‘It’s no big deal.’

“I can go upstairs and get you something. We just got groceries.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He drew two fingertips up and down your shoulder and tried to bring your attention to the movie as it was starting. He didn’t want to give anyone any reason to point out that he wouldn’t have been hungry if he just took food with him to work.

The movie was only fifteen minutes in when Billy started to doze off, a soft snore turning into a growl out his open mouth as his head fell back. Usually, when you two were cuddled up on the couch, he only ignored the screen in order to pay more attention to your body and where he wanted to fondle next. You told yourself not to wake him, not to be annoyed, but you pulled away and took the blanket he had draped over you both away with you. All your little adjustments on the couch brought Billy back awake and he yawned before noticing how irritated you look, cuddled up two spaces away from him.

“What’s with you?” His brows knot together as he looked you up and down, your knees squeezed to your chest. His hand on the couch fumbled around with the remote without looking at it, pausing the movie on his second try.

“You’re asleep and I was looking forward to spending time with you tonight.” Since Billy started working, you two had less free time together. In some ways, it was good because it kept Billy out of trouble and, more importantly, out of his own tumultuous home, but you missed him. You missed play fighting in the basement that always wound up with you on the ground in a fit of laughter or his hands peeling off your leggings in order to kiss his way from your butt dimples to your ankles. You missed going for aimless drives around Hawkins and asking him different questions about California, the future, and his rigorous hair routine. You just missed being a couple.

“I’m awake. I’m here!” His voice matched your face with it’s annoyance. Billy had toned down a lot of his antics mostly at your request, but he was exhausted and his job was wearing on him currently. “What am I not doing that you want me to be doing?”

Behind your shut lips, you wrestled with how to answer. You wanted to say that he wouldn’t be so tired if he hadn’t put in overtime, but you knew that would only elicit a loud reaction. You considered asking him to take a day off next weekend so you two could spend time together, but you weren’t sure if he would like that since you didn’t know how he would feel about it. You wanted to pout and just tell him to hold you, but before you could ask, Billy started up again.

“I’m working my ass off so that we can move and get our own place. You wanted that. It was your idea - “

“I thought you wanted it too.” You managed to mumble.

“I do! That’s why I’m fucking working all the time.” Billy felt like if he wasn’t at school then he was on a job. He knew he was lucky that your Dad called in a favour for him, so he never showed up late, he didn’t slack off. He was trying to be the guy that you wanted him to be, but the bags under his eyes were growing and he was running a deficit with sleep. “All I want is to be out of this shithole town and showing you around Venice Beach, but it’s February and we got til July, baby. Sorry, I’m falling asleep on the couch, but I just worked eleven hours on my feet.” His temper was flaring. He had to repress it all day at Steve’s house, but now it was scratching inside of him and begging to be released.

“You’re not the only one who works, Billy. You make it sound like it all falls on you.” It was often how Billy felt about life.

“Your cute four hour shifts at Waffle House three times a week are a little bit different.” Squinting at you, he scoffed.

Stunned, you just blinked at his profile as he went back to look at the screen. The future governor of California half way through blinking in a close up shot.

“Just come here and be close to me and let’s watch this movie.” He made it sound like a chore even if he was craving your hair in his hands and your head warm against his chest. Billy pulled on the bottom of his white muscle tee beneath his red button up, trying to make it appear more welcoming to you.

“No.” You mumbled and brought his attention back. “You don’t get to talk down to me like that and then move on. I’m not watching a movie with you!” His blue eyes that had been made with charm in mind widened with sharp flames as you stood up from the couch and shook your head over and over. “I’m your girlfriend! I’m not Steve Harrington or Greg Minor or some guy you think is scum. You don’t talk to me like that! I don’t deserve that!” Sometimes it seemed that you were influencing Billy in a positive way. He was becoming more ambitious, optimistic, and patient thanks to you and, in return, he had taught you how to stand up, plant your feet, and not take so much shit. Sometimes, it really drove him nuts that that was what he had inspired in you.

“Well, if you’re my girlfriend, why are you acting like such a whiny bitch?” He said it just to hurt you. He said it because his mind was shut off and his frustration had full control of him. Instantly, he internally hated himself for saying that, but he wasn’t about to back down now. Both of your chests were huffing with Arnold Schwarzenegger’s face in-between.

“I think there��s only one whiny bitch here at the moment.” Scowling, you hissed the way only a teenage girl could. It was practically effortless.

“Is that supposed to me?” Rhetorically, he asked and shook a fallen blond curl out of his view. Billy inhaled a sniff and laughed lightly at you for a second. “So, I work my ass off all day so that my girlfriend has a place to move into when she graduates, but I’m a bitch because I fall asleep during a movie she wants to watch?”

“I rented it for you!” Your reaction was visceral and huge. A firework show gone wrong as your arms flailed above your head and your scream pierced through the basement at him. “I know work has been a pain in the ass right now so I rented it for you because I wanted something good in your day today.” Desperately you explained through fury. “If it was up to me, we would be watching Madonna!” He had to have known that you didn’t care about this stupid action movie that was culturally insensitive. “And then you’re late, you don’t call, and I’m down here terrified that you sped off the road or your Dad laid into you or…” Panting, you put a hand on your chest and tried to cool off. You were beginning to spin.

“You always do that, [Y/N]. You go to the worst place imaginable. You always bring my Dad up.” It was, perhaps, his only pet peeve when it came to you. Well, that and your love of pop music.

“Because I’m scared, Billy!”

“I’m not doing this. Fuck this.” As if they would fall out if he didn’t, he rolled his eyes to the side and headed around you. He walked by you as if you weren’t even there and headed up the first step on your basement stairs. “You want to make this a big deal, you want to make tonight about my Dad, cut me the fuck out.” He waved at you and rushed up the rest of the flight. Billy went from the basement to the front door of your house at an alarming speed. He nearly crashed his shin into the corner of the living room sofa on his way to stuff his feet into his sneakers by the door.

“Billy?” From the top of the stairs that led to the second floor of the house, the half floor that held really only your parents room and an office, your Dad stood with one hand on the railing and the other around a half finished glass of rye and coke.

His fists were clenched in front of him and his teeth were tight together, but Billy reluctantly turned to face your Dad. He knew he had tested the man’s patience, but he still always treated Billy with respect. It didn’t go unappreciated by the teenager.

“You sure you want to leave?”

Usually when around your father, he stifled his groans. Billy didn’t do well around other men. He always had his guard up and felt like he had to prove himself. When it came to your mom, he could turn the charm all the way up, but he pushed when your dad pulled and vice versa. Billy tried to be better, but it was not a natural progression. Right now, all he wanted to do was barge out, light up a cigarette, and speed through town til he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. Instead, he forced himself to turn around and face the man on the staircase.  “Sounds like you’re pretty stressed out.” He mused and brought the rim of his glass back to his lips. Your dad had caught bits and pieces of the argument while he was in the kitchen fixing himself a nightcap.  There were less rules in your house than in Billy’s, but Billy hated the fact that the door had to stay open if you two were in a room together. Of course, your dad had heard you chirping at him and his pissed off reaction: the basement door has been left wide open out of habit.  “I know Edie is probably asleep. I didn’t mean - we were just -” Sort of like a child, he struggled to apologize and explain himself, throwing out his hand from his side in an effort to help him communicate. Your dad just laughed to himself and came down the stairs and into the living room.  “Edie’s deaf, Billy.” It was amusing to tour father that Billy often forgot that. He would call at your little sister and be frustrated when she didn’t so much as look up to acknowledge him. “You two could fight outside her door. It wouldn’t bother her.” It made for a pretty quiet house having a sister who was so quiet, but Billy found that comforting. “With a deaf sister, [Y/N] is pretty good at the silent treatment. So, are you sure you want to leave?” He asked Billy again.  The curly haired boy was pensive for a second. Your father could read him well and knew he was struggling between what he was used to doing and what he should do. Billy’s hands were shaking thumb to pinky on his jeans, unsure what to do. His brain and his feet were refusing to agree with each other. Helping him out, your dad nodded his head to the side toward the kitchen.  “Let’s have a drink.” He mused and headed into the brightly lit kitchen. Billy followed right away. The offer of something strong to burn down his throat was very enticing.   Billy pulled out a wooden chair from the oval table. It was the fifth one against the edge, the one your parents kept out for him in case Billy showed up. They had been obnoxious about their open door policy created for him. It was just in their nature to be kind. They could see the pain seething through him the first time he ever came to the door to pick you up to go to a party together.  He listened to ice clank in a glass as your dad, with his back to him, fixed them both cold whiskey on the rocks. Your dad wasn’t encouraging Billy, but he also knew how to appeal to the seventeen year old boy. Your dad hasn’t come from the happiest home either, but he chose to grow from it.  “George said the job you’re currently on is a real headache. People keep changing their minds and going back and forth.” Your dad brought over the drinks and slid Billy’s to him from the head of the table. He relaxed in his spot, leaning into the wicker back of the chairs he built himself. It egged Billy to calm down as well.  Taking a huge sip, not at all holding back, Billy nodded with a dramatic nod as the whiskey pinched at his throat.  “Yeah, it’s frustrating.” He kept himself from going into detail about just how much he wanted to abandon the job and, maybe, throw a brick through the Harrington’s dining room window.  “It’ll be a great paycheck then.” Offering up a small grin, your dad tried to be optimistic. He knew how Billy liked to quit when things didn’t go his way. “I worked for a lot of entitled suits when I started, but you get the last laugh when you bill them for all the hours.” It really was sweet and well deserved revenge.  Billy just nodded along. He knew your dad was right, but he wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of knowing that. He was too tough. Too proud.  “[Y/N] might not understand the stress,” He stopped beating around the bush and leaned in to make himself clear while appealing to your boyfriend. “she doesn’t have the same pressure on her that you do.” Your dad was missing a tooth in the back of his mouth from when an argument with his own old man went from bad to insane. He recognized that Billy was lonely and hurt kid. He saw himself in his fierce stare. “But I don’t think she’s a whiny bitch for wanting a night off with you.” He had heard that unsavory comment from Billy and he wasn’t going to pretend that he liked it, but your father also understood that name-calling was probably as natural as walking and breathing in the Hargrove home. Instantly, Billy slipped into his shell with his head hung low and looking at the reflection of the kitchen lights in the golden brown liquid in front of him. He felt ashamed. He hated that your dad heard him say that.  “Don’t walk out during a fight, Billy.” It was good advice, but your dad offered it as a rule to live by. “Sandra and I used to really get into it. She was finishing her practicum, we just had [Y/N], money was tight and I resented her for not being home, she was pissed at me for how hard she had to work, she was tired, but we vowed to never walk out when we fought. It’s too easy. A relationship is work.” Truthfully, your dad was convinced if he walked out some nights, he would never have come back. He was glad that he stuck those difficult discussions out. The rule had kept their marriage in tact multiple times.  “Yes, sir.” As if he was being lectured, Billy complied.  “I hate when you call me that.” Jolly as Santa, your dad chuckled from the bottom of his gut. “Your knuckles are clean.” He nodded at Billy’s hands around the whiskey glass. Out of reflex , Billy lifted them from around his drink and looked at them himself. “I’m proud of you, Billy.” Billy had come over pissed off plenty, he had arrived with a swollen lip and a black eye, but his hands were without marks or indents. He was holding himself back and, to your parents, that was a positive change.  I’m proud of you, Billy. The sentence kept echoing under Billy’s hair, down the dimly lit hallways of his head, and he felt his throat contract sharply as if he was losing his voice. There was this man, three chairs away from him, that he really admired, someone who was self-made, and they were proud of him. It was enough to make Billy want to run out again. He didn’t want to cry in front of your father. He didn’t know what to do. He had never been in this situation before. He had never heard someone acknowledge him in that way before. He felt uncomfortable, but strangely happy. “When was the last time your were suspended?” Rhetorically, your father asked mostly just to remind the teenager that the answer was ‘months ago’. “You got a job, George says you fit in and work hard,” he nodded, pleased to know that. “You’re using our door instead of the window, Sandra loves that.” He winked at Billy with a downy soft chuckle. “Saving up for a place is tough, but you’re doing it. I’m really proud of you, Billy. You’ve come a long way from the dude honking for my daughter from the driveway. You even button up your shirt sometimes now.” Your dad couldn’t resist a little good-natured ribbing. Billy chuckled back as well. Internally, he had alarms screaming since your dad had told him twice now that he was proud of him.  “I’m just going to go to the washroom.” Billy excused himself and walked from the kitchen through the living room to the main floor bathroom. He closed the door loudly behind him and clutched both sides of the sink as he stared at the dry drain with wide, nervous eyes.  Someone was proud of him. Another man was proud of him. He wasn’t just some fuck up. The words coming from underneath your father’s moustache were so sincere and unnecessary that Billy felt convinced hat they were not meant for him. Maybe your old man had made a mistake. Billy lifted his head and stared at himself in the mirror and laughed. Someone was proud of him. He wasn’t a waste. There was hope for him. A father figure liked him. He was proud of him. He believed in him. Billy only stopped laughing to pull himself together. He didn’t want to go soft or be a 'pansy’. He was bashing less faces in, but he wasn’t Liberace all the sudden. It was very important to Billy that he was still considered tough.  When he emerged from the washroom, he had on a stiff upper lip and his typical devil-may-care swagger in his walk. He noticed before he was back in the kitchen that your mom was leaning into your father’s lap. She was sipping from his drink, but stopped once Billy was back in the room. She shook a teal blue envelope at him with sparkling excitement vivid in her eyes that were just like yours.  “We were gonna have a little party for you, just the four of us, but we want to give you this now.” His birthday was next month, but your dad had fetched your mom thinking that now was as good a time as any. It wasn’t as if his wife hadn’t gone out to pick out a couple other things for Billy. He knew for a fact that she brought him sweatshirts because she was worried by the lack of sleeves and buttons in his wardrobe. She was convinced that Billy was freezing all the time.  “You don’t have to -” Billy tried to object. Were they trying to make him cry?  “Edie’s drawing you a Crayola masterpiece, yes, we did.” Your mom insisted as she stood up and leaned off her heels to reach the envelope over to him. Edie was five and didn’t have anything besides crayon drawings to offer, but she had drawn a portrait of Billy that your whole family thought was hilarious.  “Uh, thanks.” Billy used his thumb to cut through the shut envelope and opened it slowly. He didn’t imagine it would be anything besides a coupon for an oil change inside a happy birthday card. He glanced at the primary color balloons on the card and the brown rabbit holding them. It was a card for a child. He opened it up and instantly confetti fell to his jeans and onto the chair between his legs. He looked down and saw the green and blue flakes everywhere. He had not been anticipating that.  “Sandra, why do you always put that stuff in them?” Your father sighed and shook his head behind hers.  “It’s festive. I love it.” She shrugged and kept her attention on Billy. She loved birthdays and spoiling people. This was her bread and butter. “Go on.” She told Billy as he had stopped opening the card in order to observe their bickering.  Billy pulled the card open again and saw the paperclip on top right away this time. Clipped to it was a stack of twenties and a few tens. He counted it from the corners and figured it was a hundred and fifty bucks. His eyes were wide with flat shut lips. He looked over at your parents with a face that was quietly asking, 'are you serious?’. Your mom bounced on your father’s lap as she nodded vigorously.  “Jesus, thanks.” He exhaled and counted the corners again. This time he looked at the card again and read your mom’s message written in blue cursive.  ’Happy Birthday, Billy!!!  We hope you have a wonderful 18th birthday. Use this for your new place, gas money, or just to treat yourself. Xoxo’. Inside his mouth, he was chewing on his gums and trying to keep his chin from warbling out of control. Billy wasn’t sure if his own parents had ever written him a card as personal. In fact, he didn’t know the last time his Dad even bought a cake on his own birthday. Billy was starting to lose his cool at the table and let out an exhale to try to compose himself. This was embarassing and he had to look away from your mom and dad.  “I’m not sure your schedule, but if you have a free day the week of your birthday,” Your mom started to explain to his hidden face. She knew he would have a some school days off for sure. “Let me know. We want to do something. We could invite your family if you want.” She knew the Hargrove’s weren’t tight, but it was the right thing to offer.  “No.” Shaking his head, that brought Billy’s attention back to them. He inhaled through his nose and showed them his glassy eyes. “No. That’s fine. You guys don’t have to.” He felt a jolt of joy through him at the prospect of it actually. A special night for him. However, if they were going to throw him any kind of party, he didn’t want to ruin it with his parents. Billy could just imagine the reaction his dad would have. He would roll his eyes and make fun of them for thinking his son was worth the effort.  “We want to.” There was weight placed on each word as your dad assured him.  “You’re part of our family. A birthday dinner is mandatory.” Mom joined in with a laugh as your dad draped his arms loosely around her waist. It could be annoying when they would kiss at the store, but tour parents were still madly in love with one another.  “Let me know what you want to have. You get to pick the meal.” It was a typical task to gift the birthday person in your family. “Thanks.” Quietly with his eyes low, Billy mumbled.  “So, you still want to walk out?” Confusing your mom, your dad asked Billy as the teen finished his drink. Billy needed the burn of the whiskey to make him feel like a man again.  He nodded solemnly and pushed the chair from the table. He tucked the card into the butt pocket of his jeans and left your parents behind at the table as he headed back down in the basement with his tail between his legs. Apologizing did not came naturally for him. However, he loved making up. It usually meant tits in his face at some point.

Cozy, but completely uncomfortable, you were under the blanket curled up in the corner of the couch. The television and VCR had been shut off since Billy left the basement. He approached you from behind and tried to be quiet, but you had heard his car keys jingling in his jeans when he rushed down the stairs. Quiet was a word rarely associated with one Billy Hargrove. Still, you ignored him and didn’t so much as flinch to notice him. He sat right by you on the couch and looked over your blanket covered body, trying to figure out where your knees were beneath it. He rested his hand by your ankles and frowned at his own lap. Sorry was truly the hardest word. Elton John was right which Billy wasn’t about to admit.  “I shouldn’t have walked out.” Holding back the words, reluctant to fess up to his mistake, Billy said to you while looking down at a piece of confetti still stuck on his jeans. “I get so mad - ” “You?” Turning to him, you couldn’t help, but be sarcastic even if it was the wrong reaction. Billy sighed at the bad joke. “I can’t imagine you mad.” Smiling, you finished.  Billy sucked in his frustration, but kept your father’s voice concise in his memory. Don’t walk out. “Wait. Have you been crying?” You took a second to really study his face. His eyes were growing slightly pink and they looked glassy, but not because of any hits of weed. Billy much preferred to drink over smoking pot even if he was more fun high than drunk.  “No.” Fast as he could, he scoffed at the question. Billy took his wrist to his eyes and wiped at them roughly. “Your mom wrote me a card and I just, like, was chatting with your dad…I didn’t cry.” He was adamant that he was telling the truth and you decided to drop it. If it helped, you would pretend and play along.  A moment passed between you both and you manuevering yourself under the blankets to be facing him. You raised the fuzzy blanket that you had loved for years and lifted it to let Billy in. Thankfully, he scooted closer and leaned into you underneath. His head rested on your shoulder and, for the first time all night, you released a sweet sigh of relief. Whenever Billy stormed out, you worried that was it. He could be so stubborn and grow so worked up that you never knew if he want to stick it out or just never talk to you again. It was a hard place to be sometimes, never knowing for sure.  “I will call next time I’m going to be late, okay?” It was his way of apologizing, his way of admitting he was not perfect like he wished he was. Naturally, your hand went to his curls and you rested the side of your face on top of his head once you had smoothed out a spot. “I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat when you got here.” It was your turn to confess. You knew that Billy was working harder than ever before. “If I had a time machine, I would have been better about you falling asleep.“  Beneath your cheek, you could feel Billy nod. He heard you. He appreciated the sentiment.  "Are you sure you’re okay?” You had to check. He seemed occupied, he seemed changed, and you were used to him being worked up for hours after any disagreement. Billy did not have coping skills when it came to conflict.  “Your dad said he was proud of me.” In a whisper, he shared with you while staring off at the wall across the room where a framed family portrait of a preteen you, a baby Edie, and your two parents hung. Usually,, when he saw the picture, he felt jealous, but now he just felt lucky. Those were his four people. His chosen family. “Yeah, he always says you’re making big strides. He always asks where you are or how you are when you don’t come for dinner.” Unsurprised, you let him know. For you, your father’s pride in Billy wasn’t anything exciting. It didn’t carry the weight for you that it did for him. He had been craving respect and admiration from a man who smacked him around, but now he had it from a man who never even raised his voice at him. A man who saw who he was and accepted it.  “And your mom said I’m family.” His voice threatened to crack so he raised his hand to his face and pinched himself between his eyes. He felt like a loser for being so emotional. “You are.” Billy’s heartbeat wasn’t out of control when you slid an arm over him and placed your hand on his chest. You had felt it before during a fight, fresh after almost beating the snot out of some guy, and even after an almost altercation with Neil. He seemed calm, but you could tell his emotions were at an all time high.  “No one’s ever told me that.” He was seventeen and he had never felt the basic kindness from family that you were accustom to. You didn’t love in the same fear he did when you walked from room to room in your house. It was the first time you really realized how different you were. It was the first time that you realized how much love and protection he needed even though he adamantly denied interest in it. You tighten your embrace around him, hands linking on his sinking stomach as you sighed and let him cry silently.  “You’re my family, Billy.” You assured him as a promise and leaned down to kiss his lips even if it was at a challenging and at a somewhat upside down angle. He accepted it greedily and lifted his own hand to bring you closer. This was what he needed. All day he just wanted you, a movie, and feeling no pressure to be anything, but himself. 

@desertsivan1995 @daddyslittlemunster

[pscottm]

According to Rich’s Bumble profile, he was fit, with a head of mussed silver curls, divorced and, like me, almost an empty nester. At 58, I was still trying to find my romantic footing after the agonizing end of a 35-year marriage.

I had cried a lot that summer. Now I was ready for someone new.

As we strove to match schedules, Rich’s rapid-fire texts were refreshingly self-deprecating. “If you’re looking for a bad boy,” he wrote, “I don’t think you’ll like me.” He described his fitness level as “right in that Goldilocks zone between gym rat and dad bod.”

When we met in person, I thought he looked attractive enough, though, yes, a bit dad-like. And he was an exceptional listener: attentive and full of questions, if a little too eager to please.

When I mentioned my difficult relationship with my mother, he said, “Just like my mother. You’ve heard the term borderline?”

When I described being raised by my long-suffering immigrant grandparents, he said, “I had those same adorable Jewish grandparents. They got me through my crappy childhood.”

I had been charmed by his texts, but in person I was wearying of what seemed like his forgone conclusion — that we were already a match.

Nevertheless, I found myself somewhat reluctantly agreeing to a second date. Rich seemed like a man I might enjoy chatting with at a party, then never see again. Could I articulate why? Did it matter?

For decades I had clung to a kernel of dating wisdom gleaned from an encounter gone wrong. I had married so young, at 23, that my courtship savvy approached nil. That “encounter gone wrong” was the only date I went on while my husband and I had a 14-month separation nearly a decade into our marriage. My husband had moved out of our apartment to live in his work space. A lonely standoff followed, during which I cried myself to sleep and consulted divorce lawyers.

Friends urged me to consider the back pages of The New York Press, known for its lively personals section catering to singles who saw themselves as hip or a little nonstandard. I had picked up the paper then put it down, reluctant to contact a stranger. Then one guy’s ad grabbed my attention: “If you’re smart, verbal, good-looking, emotionally unencumbered, witty, happy in work, close to friends, and you loved ‘The Singing Detective,’ we’re similar. I’m 37.”

I was 34, unencumbered, close to friends, and had just started an adjunct teaching job I was actually happy about. And I loved “The Singing Detective,” a then-edgy TV series featuring depression-era dance hall numbers and a subplot involving psoriasis. As for looks and wit — well, those were subjective.

I responded. We agreed to meet a few days later at the Peacock Cafe on Greenwich Avenue.

The man awaiting me turned out to be surprisingly attractive, with strong shoulders. He was dressed casually but had made an effort. Afterward, when describing this encounter — my cautionary tale — I couldn’t remember his name or profession. His looks, other than high cheekbones and a thatch of dark curls, were a blur to me. What I retained was the rigid, puzzling format of our interaction.

Doggedly, like a professional interviewer, he kept bringing our conversation around to his purpose, which was, it seemed, to verify that I truly loved “The Singing Detective.” And he seemed oddly miffed that I liked other favorite artists of his: Elvis Costello, Leonard Cohen.

When I effused about the songwriters, films and plays he kept invoking, he would freeze, looking crestfallen. Why, since we shared the same taste? Did he think I was lying, intentionally mirroring him to make us seem compatible?

When it was time to leave, we loitered in the chilly dusk. Would he say he had enjoyed himself and hoped to see me again? He didn’t, and I walked to my subway confused, a bit furious.

Two days later, he called, sounding nervous, to invite me to a Spalding Gray show I was dying to see. But I had made up my mind: Anyone who had been that off-putting on a first date wasn’t getting a second. To reject him as painlessly as possible, I ad-libbed: I was sorry, but in the last 48 hours I had decided to reconcile with my husband. He sounded nonplused and we hung up.

For years afterward, when I was back with my husband, girlfriends (who were themselves pursuing mates) had to hear me tell the story of that most perplexing date, a cautionary tale about trusting your first take, which boiled down to: If you’re not excited about seeing a guy a second time, cut your losses. Move on.

More than two decades later, here I was breaking my rule, agreeing to go out on a second date when the first hadn’t done anything for me. And sure enough, this one was falling flat too. We weren’t running out of topics, but our chat about the prescience of “The Handmaid’s Tale,” our children’s endless college tours and the decline of the subway, felt generic.

Not that there was anything off about Rich, an intelligent, affable guy who simply wasn’t as exciting as his Bumble persona. But since I was feeling no chemistry, why waste time? At our age, who has time to waste?

I restlessly veered to a stock question: “Have you done much online dating?”

“Yes, since my divorce,” he said. “And I met my ex through an ad, pre-internet, in The New York Press. Which you may not have heard of.”

“Hah!” I said. “Actually, I went on my worst date of my life thanks to that newspaper.” And I told him about the man who seemed to want to reject me because we had so much in common, so aversive in body language and expression that I never wanted to see him again. “When he called to ask me out for a second date, to go see a Spalding Gray show, I hadn’t prepared an excuse, so I pretended I was getting back together with my husband.”

“You made that up?” Rich said, seeming bothered.

“But it turned out to be true!” I said. “Not long after, my ex and I did agree to try again. So, happy ending, for a while, at least. Though I’m sorry I missed Spalding Gray.”

I laughed, but Rich wasn’t laughing.

“That may have been me,” he said.

“Are you kidding?” I said. “I went on one New York Press date.” I studied him, sensing that something uncanny had just taken place. I searched for the brooding young man with dark hair and high cheekbones in Rich’s fuller face and silver curls. No, this Rich seemed too different in every way. “What are the odds?” I said.

“You’re probably right,” he said. “But I did keep a diary then. I’ll check it at home.”

When he kissed me good night, I lingered, still not feeling much chemistry. Then he disappeared down the hot subway stairs.

An hour later, he texted. “Where was this date?”

“The Peacock Cafe.”

“Definitely me,” he replied with a frowny face. He also texted me an image of the classified ad from back then, which he had saved.

I instantly recognized it.

“I liked you!” he texted. “A lot, actually. It’s in my journal. I wanted to see you again. Clearly, I was too much of a jerk to express it.”

I went quiet. I’m not superstitious, but I recognize fate (or the illusion of fate?) when I see it.

So I agreed to another date. This time, we kissed hello with almost ironic complicity. Our conversation in the thrumming tapas bar seemed, finally, less stilted. Afterward, Rich walked me home, and we wound up on my couch, reviewing our long-ago dating fiasco.

“I was trying to impress you,” he said. “I remember being intimidated by you, this pretty N.Y.U. professor.”

“I was an adjunct!”

“Well, I didn’t get that,” he said. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you already knowing my references threatened me. It’s embarrassing. But here’s an upside: If I hadn’t been such an idiot then, we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

“Because we’d be divorced?”

I had kicked off my sandals, and Rich reached for my foot to massage it, as if this were our longstanding habit. And then we began to talk, almost like old lovers, about the reasons for that failed first date more than two decades earlier — connecting, in other words, over our previous failure to connect.

On our next date, we carried a bottle of excellent wine to my bedroom to toast our good luck. That was two summers ago. We’re still seeing each other.

My new rule? Sometimes you can tell on a first date. Or sometimes it can take 24 years.

[awesomedelaneygrace-blog]

Chapter 1

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. I rolled over and hit the snooze button on my alarm and pulled the blanket over my head.

“Five more minutes,” I mumbled into my pillow to no one.

Sighing, I kicked off the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at my alarm clock.

“How did I sleep through my alarm?!” I set it for 6:45, it was 7:30 and I was just getting out of bed.

I walked across the cold, wood floor to my closet. I took out my ripped army green skinny jeans and a gray shirt and threw them on my bed as I picked up my phone. I pressed the power button and saw a text message from my friend, Sarah, it read:

“First day of hell. See you there.”

I tossed my phone back on my bed and quickly changed my clothes. I had just finished brushing out my hair, “oh, crap!” I said when I caught a glimpse of the clock on my nightstand. I ran out the door and rounded the corner into the hallway.

“Ow,” I yelled as I tripped and fell face-first into the rug. I sat up and rubbed the slow-forming bump on my forehead.

Well, this is fantastic!

I stood up and walked into the kitchen.

Once there, I quickly started to make coffee. No way am I going to school without coffee. As I waited, I dug through the cabinets to find something for breakfast. I settled on a granola bar.

I checked the clock again, it read 8:00.

I quickly took my coffee cup out of the cabinet, nearly dropping in in my hast.

“I can’t be la - Ow!” I stopped mid-sentence and bit my lip. Running over to the sink, I turned on the cold water and let it flow over my hand.

“That. Was incredibly hot.” I took my hand out from under the water to examined the burn. It wasn’t too bad, but it was definitely going to hurt for the rest of the day.

I finished pouring my coffee and headed for the front door. I grabbed my backpack and jacket, jogging out the door I yelled over my shoulder:

“Mom, I’m off to school!” Not that she could hear me or that she really cared.

I put in my headphones and started to make my way through the morning crowd. Trying to get anywhere in New York is near impossible, let alone get there on time.

I was slowly making my way down 9th Ave., doing my best to avoid people. When a very large man, dressed in a tux and a black trench coat, wearing sunglasses despite the lack of sun, ran into me and knocked me over.

“Watch it!” I snapped at the man.

In reply, he just glared at me and kept walking. There was something - unsettling - about this man, his eyes seemed to have flickered like a flame behind his glasses.

I got up and kept walking, but I couldn’t shake the off feeling I had, the weather was strange, it was cold and incredibly overcast, and now the stranger with flickery eyes.

Curiouser and curiouser….

I kept walking, I was about a block and a half from school when I thought I felt someone watching me. I quickly turned around but I didn’t see anything.

I checked the time again; 8:20 it read. I had to be to school in five minutes.

I decided to cut through an alley. As I was walking, I heard something rustling in the trash.  I took out my phone and turned on the flashlight, glancing around.

“It’s probably just a rat or an alley cat or something like that.” I said hoping saying it out loud would make it true. I picked up my pace; I could see the schoolyard from where I was.

Once I was out of the alley, I ran up to the front gates and bumped into my friend, Sarah, who was waiting for me.

“It’s about time you showed up! I thought you were going to abandon me.” She said bumping into my shoulder as we walked up the front stairs.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, “I’ve had a very odd morning.” I went on to recap everything that had happened in the last half hour.

“Woah, woah, wait. You’re telling me his eyes -” Sarah raised her eyebrows and puffed out her cheeks like she couldn’t believe what she was about to say, “flickered?”

I nodded, shivered, and pulled my jacket closer around my body

“I keep getting this creepy feeling like I’m being watched,” I said, looking over my shoulder one last time before I walked in the door.

“Delilah, now you’re just being paranoid.”  She threw her arm around my shoulder, “I’m sure he was just late for work and in a bad mood.”

There was the ear-piercing ring of the bell and kids scrambling to get to class.

“I have to get to class, catch ya later,” Sarah said over her shoulder as she walked away.

The final bell rang and there was a rush of kids down the hall. There were lots of mumbled “excuse me,” “ pardon me,” and “sorry” as people pushed past each other trying to get into lockers, leave the building, or get to extracurricular classes and sports practice. I was making my way to the front door when someone bumped into my shoulder and dropped their books all over the floor.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I apologized and started to pick up the books. I looked at the kid, but I didn’t recognize her. The one thing that caught me off guard was that she was wearing sunglasses, in school.

Strange...

“Oh! No, no. It was my fault.” She reassured me.

I handed her the books, and our hands brushed, sending a shiver up my spine and causing me to break out in goosebumps.

“Um… Yeah, okay.” I stammered in reply as I got up to walk away.

I got the same weird feeling I had gotten from the man with the flicker-y eyes. I looked back but I couldn’t see her anymore.

Can this day get any weirder?

Apparently, it could.

I made my way down the front stairs and turned the corner out of the gate. It was around 3:30 or so, so there wasn’t much foot traffic aside from the tourists and kids walking home from school. After that afternoon’s events, I decided to go to the park to do my homework. The weather had warmed up a little, though it was still cloudy.

I walked over to the end of the sidewalk and stood at the edge of the curb. I did my best cab whistle (which wasn’t very good) and held my hand out to signal a driver. After what felt like forever, a black cab pulled up to the curb. I opened the door and climbed into the back seat. There was an overwhelming scent of smoke and a faint, but still apparent, the smell of...Burnt hair? I’ve been in a lot of cabs in my life, all with a very unique smell to them, but none of them compare to this.

“Where to, Miss?” The cab driver asked in a voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I turned my attention to the driver. He looked to be about mid-thirty, large build. He had cocoa brown skin and wore a full black suit, and… Sunglasses. This time, however, I noticed something. He was wearing the exact same sunglasses as the man who ran over me on the sidewalk and the new girl in the hallway.

Get a hold of yourself! You’ve been paranoid all day, calm down.

“Cen-central Park drive, please.” I stuttered a little, still trying to figure things out.

Great job!

I put my headphones in and stare out the window. After a few minutes, I turn my attention back to the driver. I caught him looking at me through the rear view mirror, I gave him a what are you lookin’ at? face, and he returned his attention to the road.

I looked back out the window and saw that we had passed 10th Avenue.

“Um, excuse me, you were supposed to turn there,” I said to the driver.

He just ignored me and kept driving.

“I said, you were supposed to turn there.” I raised my voice and tried to sound firm.

This time, he responded.

“Shut up.” He glared at me through the rearview mirror.

Okay, that was weird.

My pulse sped up and wiped my hands on my jeans. My mind instantly jumped to the worst case scenarios that I’ve seen on tv. I tried my best to keep my breathing even, I started to plan how I’d try get away from the driver, then, I remembered I still had my phone on me. I took it out and went to text Sarah (because calling anyone would have drawn too much attention to myself) only, I had no reception.

Since when do cabs block out cell phone reception?

As I was failing miserably to stay calm, I noticed we had gone to a more industrial part of town. Which only caused me to freak out more.

���Please tell me what’s going on and where are you taking me?” I tried to sound strong and put together, but I really sounded like a church mouse with a sore throat.

“That is classified information.” He said in a gruff voice, turning around and shutting the little window to the front of the cab. Cutting off my only way of getting information.

We were only in the car for another twenty minutes or so before he pulled into a large, abandoned warehouse. The driver pulled to the stop and got out of the car.

“Get out, and don’t try to make a run for it.” He flashed a small handgun he had tucked into his waistband.

Gulping, I slid across the seat and slowly got out of the car. The man grabbed my arm and pulled me after him. The place smelled of old gas, stale air, and death. I gagged. He lead me across the large, open loading dock and up two flights of stairs, down another hallway, and finally, to a door with another equally big looking man stood. He was about 6 feet tall, covered head-to-toe in tattoos, not the kinda guy you want to mess with.

The man who had kidnapped me (who, for the sake of ease, I decided to call Sunglasses)  walked up the man by the door and whispered something in his ear. The second man disappeared behind the door.  I could see the silhouette of a third figure through the frosted glass. They didn’t look anywhere near as big as the first two men I’ve encountered, but I could tell he was a man of power, and therefore more dangerous.

The second man returned from behind the door and told Sunglasses he was clear to go in.  

My whole body was shaking, making it hard to walk. The second man opened the door and Sunglasses pushed me into the room. I stumbled a few feet and fell on the cement floor.

There were some snickers from the men behind me, I turned around to glare at the men but to my surprise, Mr.Boss Man took care of it.

“Enough!” He yelled as he turned around in his chair, propping one of his ankles on his opposite knee.

He looked to only be about twenty. He had blue hair, and was wearing black Converse, a Blink-182 shirt, and… Sunglasses.

Apparently, this guy really has a thing for sunglasses

Not the kind of person you’d expect to be kidnapping people.

“Delilah,” he said in a sickeningly sweet tone with a smirk on his face. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

[survivorcordillerablanca]

Rites of Passage

"lol"

Jordan: So sorry about that, we had to make a decision based on two innactives and you were the one we chose.

This was the first org I acc was messy in and it was actually kinda fun. Sorry I couldn't last longer so this game could have more confessionals @hosts. Love whoever is in the final 4 good luck guys!

Jordan: Never got to play with you sorry bud

Carson: Eric, I think coming into this game we kinda knew each other from PBB and stuff like that, but honestly, I didn’t really want to work with you (no offense) because I just saw the rest of the tribe as more solid options to work with and more predictable. The short time we had together was nice, but you suggested Bryce and Charlotte’s names and Chris ratted you out!! And I was aligned with Bryce and Charlotte and wasn’t gonna break that for uncertainty.

Charlotte: I wish we could have worked together in this game. Honestly it sucked that we had to send someone home and the reason it was you was mostly because... well, the only other name I’d heard was mine. I’ve heard good things about you though from other games and people in the community so hopefully we’ll have a chance to play again together someday!

Jordan: I liked you a lot, but then you stopped showing up and you had to go

Boooo Jordan

Jordan: The first hard vote of the season for me, I really was sincere about wanting to work with you, but when I had to make a choice early on, you were the one I made.

emma deserved better and i love alexis

Jordan: God, I loved that we became friends in this game, but we were expecting a merge soon and you were someone who would be too hard to beat in challenges

Jordan: Robbed queen, winner of india, destroyer of catfish

Jordan: I love you buddy, but i came down to me or you, and I chose me

Carson: I really wanted to work with you coming into this game because I think we both know that we never do in ORGs, but we were on opposite tribes and while I was SO happy knowing how close you were to making merge you just didn’t and.. Ugh. </3

I had a really fun time playing this game, but getting rid of me was a mistake. Ulta was in a good position to completely control this game but some people are unnecessarily annoying in this game. I'm excited to watch everyone destroy themselves.

Jordan: We didn’t get a chance to really play together, but taking you out was the first step in getting me further in this game. I love you bud, hopefully no hard feelings

Carson: Chris!! In the start, we didn’t really talk much, and you were set to be the first boot on our tribe over Eric, but Eric kinda.. blew up and you stayed cool, which kept you there and I’m really glad it did because you’re such a great person to talk to overall! I definitely think while, maybe our views didn’t align strategically as much, I felt as if I had a really good relationship with you which made voting you out at merge a bit more daunting? But also I felt a major reason why Zach and I flipped to vote you out with Charlotte, Jordan, and Luke was because you neglected to take us on the Wishing Well which (might not be the case) revealed your loyalties to all Ultas except us + Willow. But still, talking with you was great, and I’d definitely love to talk with you more after the game because you’re a super nice person!

Charlotte: Honestly Chris, this vote was probably one of the hardest ones that I had to do in this game. I really loved talking to you and hearing about your day, or about the pupper, but unfortunately our games just didn’t align for longevity. I seriously loved getting to know you while we played this game and hope to be able to still keep in contact once this game is over. Us Elders need to stick together. 

Jordan: You were such a nice person and a bit of a threat so you had to go, I hope you don’t take it personal and i loved getting the chance to meet you and play with you

Carson: Speaking of super nice people… <3 I loved talking/kinda working with you for one round! From the start, I think that me and you clicked a lot? Like as long as you did take to reply (which was pretty iconic, let’s be real) we just carried conversations not really caring about the breaks between them, which almost just felt like one long conversation and relationship over the course of the game. It felt kinda like old friends just..instantly being able to pick up conversations. Also, Zach was pretty close to you and I was pretty close to Zach so we formed a trio of sorts which definitely was something I loved having and I WISH that we could’ve actually used that to do something instead of being forced to vote you out because we didn’t have the numbers. 

But overall, just playing with you was super nice and you’re super nice to talk to and you’re so sweet! Really glad I got to meet you in this game.

Charlotte: THE QUEEN! I’d heard a lot about you before we started this game and I was really excited to get a chance to talk to you. I had heard that you were really into Broadway and you were so so nice but unfortunately our games just didn’t really allow us to work together much in this game. I can’t wait to play with you (or host you) in the future and look forward to having a chance to talk after this is all over c:

This game was super fun and I enjoyed so much of this game!! I think the f3 all have one attribute of survivor a bunch; outwit, outplay, and outlast! No matter who wins I'll think it was a good ending to the season.

Jordan: we didn’t get a lot of time to talk in this game, but you seemed like a solid dude, and I wish we had gotten a chance to talk more. Hopefully if we ever play another game together we can become closer

Carson: Bryce! Whew! I definitely really connected with you as soon as we started talking because we’re.. Kinda? Similar people which was nice! We definitely talked a lot and I loved our conversations we had. I think we also both trusted each other a lot in this game and kept each other updated most of the time pre-merge, like you telling me of you finding the idol and asking if you should put it in the alliance chat. (You might’ve sent that to the whole alliance chat idk sdkjsd)

But like.. From merge on I don’t think we were as strategically close? We definitely still talked as much because you’re a really fun person to talk to and have a distinct energy about you that makes it fun, but we didn’t really work closely strategically as I feel I really associated you as being really close with Chris/Katie which.. I really do regret because I think in this game you were definitely not only a good strategic partner but also a great friend which I definitely thank you for. <3 And then at your boot vote we just… you were the easiest person to get votes on and I wanted to save myself. :/ Can’t wait to talk to you post game!

Charlotte: I really hope that you’re not too upset with me over the Zachary vote going AWOL. I really wanted to keep you in this game and if there had been no idol? We definitely would have been able to make that move. In the position that we were in at the time, there wasn’t a way to flip enough votes onto Luke to send him out over you or Carson. I really loved getting to know you while we were playing this game and I love that you loved Demi’s new album as much as I did. Every time I listen to Daddy Issues I think of you and I can’t wait to catch up when this is all over!! 

Hey guys sorry I'm not with you right now, I know you are really missing my company. Good luck and look forward to watching all your videos!

Jordan: RAWKS

Carson: Katie, coming into this game, I had a.. Sort of? Relationship with you because you hosted me in Wonderland but that wasn’t really an actual friendship/relationship so I’m really glad I got to meet you and talk to you in this game because you definitely just.. Are a great person to talk to. You’re awesome at listening and I loved just hearing you talk and I just find you such a cool person?? Like i don’t know thats probably weird I just think you give off that vibe and you always were one of the few people (other than like.. Willow) who sent me long messages and I really thank you for that because it’s just.. Fun to send long messages back and forth and feel like it was just awesome always to talk to you and I was happy when we did.<3 Sorry if I rambled a bit dskjdsjk I’m just really glad I got to meet you in this game and form a genuine friendship with you!!

Strategically, it was kinda different as we were really close early on, but then I kinda left you in the dark at the merge vote (still really sorry about that and I regret not telling you because… I really did trust you but I think I put my trust too much in a direct group of people) and then you used your Golden Apple which caused us to kill Willow because Bryce ratted Willow out to Charlotte and we didn’t have your vote :/ And then you had the Golden Monkey Idol which you didn’t tell me about so I assumed we kinda just.. Didn’t work together anymore and then I was against you and we wanted you rocked out and sadly you were. :/

We definitely had an up and down relationship in this game but that doesn’t change the friendship I have with you and I’m really glad we got to OFFICIALLY meet, I guess.

Charlotte: Queen of fourth place! I’m sorry you had to get rocked out but there was no real choice but to try to take out 1/2 of Copa when we had the chance. I meant it when I said that I loved working with you, and getting to know you in this game, and you bet I’ll make sure to PVR the ‘Oprah’s Favorite Things’ episode when it airs to see your stuff on TV.  (they do air that on TV right? i’m gonna have to get details from you so I don’t miss it gskhdgskdgsd).  

Coming back as a returnee was exciting but nerve-wracking. Ultimately though, i’m glad I did because I met many amazing people and I am happy with the game I played despite lowering my placement by 3.

Jordan: Sorry about that love, but I needed to save myself and you made the most sense. It was nothing personal but It was I needed to do. Love you hon. #kingofkuangsi

Carson: Zach, it was really fun working with you in this game! You’re fun to talk to and.. Yeah! Sdjksdjk I definitely feel as if we had almost effortless talks which was a lot of fun and I’m glad you were in this game so we could have a genuine relationship as compared to Las Vegas where… we didn’t talk till our last day. <3 <3 Pop bottles with Willow for me!!

Charlotte: SO. you and I have not had the easiest history. we were super close on KS and then everything kind of blew up, and there was a bit of bitterness on my part for a couple rounds which I feel pretty stupid about now. At the end of the day I love you, and I’ve loved getting to know you, and talking about HTGAWM and This Is Us with you has been awesome. We’ll always have Aphi Sa and I Can’t Wait for you to snatch my wig when this is all over. It’s only fair ;)

Despite coming into this game as a previous winner I ended up getting 4th place and I think that's a huge acheivement along with the 2 idol plays I pulled of this time around! I'm so unbelievably proud of how I played this game, coming from the Copa tribe meant I had to deal with a lot of loss early into the game and me leaving during firemaking honestly just proves I couldn't win a competition to save my life this season. I'm super proud of the 3 of you that are left and I can't wait for FTC!

Jordan: ROBBED KING. My final 2, my bestie, my confidant. Playing the end of the game without you was hell. And I am so sorry, you lost. I am doing all i can to get to the end for you, but i love you so much <3 <3 <3

Carson: Really glad that you were in this game! I feel that throughout this, we weren’t the closest socially or strategically and it kinda just..resulted in us telling each other lies and both knowing it was a lie dskjs. But still, you’re a really fun person to talk to!! I feel like we definitely didn’t talk as much as other people in this game, but I still really did enjoy the talks we had. Also, I just wanna say that.. I’m really sorry for voting you out at Final 4 but I really did see you as a strategic threat who could easily win if not taken out then, and I wanted to let Charlotte have the choice of who to face off as she was doing the firemaking. (don’t mean to suck up i just feel bad) SDKJJSD but.. Other than that, glad we got to.. Reconnect? Sort of in this game!

Charlotte: Ugh, Luke. I wish we had worked together more. I’ll admit now that with Jordan running interference between the two of us, we probably didn’t talk as much as we could / should have. I honestly love you as a person and hope that we can continue chatting after this all over if you’re not too sick of me. I had a blast causing some Chaos - and thwarting some - with you guys this season and I’m glad I decided to apply at the last second. It’s been real, ya’ll.