#they were getting in my eyes so I had my grandma trim them

[cosyvelvetorchid]

For One Night Only.. Maybe chapter 4 is up!

Read on Ao3 or below

Enjoy!

🩶

Rating: G (for this chapter)

W/C: 3,852

Summary:

It's New Years eve and after talking with Maddie and Eddie Buck realises his feelings.

**********

“Uncle Buck!” Jee yelled excitedly, hurtling towards Buck the second he walked through the door. He opened his arms wide for her to jump into and picked her up. 

“My favourite girl! Did you have a good Christmas with Grandma and Grampa?” She gave a big nod in response. “Well that’s good to hear. Did Santa bring you lots of nice things?” 

“A pony!” 

“A pony?! I don’t think a point would fit in your room.” 

“Not a real pony, silly.” She giggled. She wiggled in his arms to get down and he put her back on the ground. She immediately ran towards her room. 

“Welcome back.” He greeted Maddie with a hug. 

“Thanks. Coffee?”

“Uh, sure.” He followed her into the kitchen. “So, come on, tell me the truth now that they can’t hear you on the phone—how was it?” 

“Surprisingly, calm.” 

“Really?” 

“Uh-huh. I mean they of course criticised Jee’s bedtime, what we fed her for breakfast, oh and my choice of Christmas sweater-“ she rolled her eyes. “But, all in all they were actually pretty well behaved.” 

“Did they, uh.. did they say anything about me?” He asked, expecting to hear the usual criticism. 

“Actually mom said she misses you.” Buck raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know it surprised me too.”

“She misses me.” He said not quite believing it. 

“Yep.”

“Wow.” They looked at each both laughed at the absurdity of their mother actually admitting how she felt. 

“How were they with Chim?” 

“Dad actually started calling him Chimney, if you can believe that.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope.” Maddie shook her head “When they talked about you they called you Buck, too.”

“Took them long enough.” He scoffed. 

“I missed you there.” She said after a moment. 

“I know.” He looked at her. “I-I know they’re getting better and I’m glad, but.. I’m not ready to act all happy families with them yet.” 

“I understand.” She smiled. “How was Christmas at Tommy’s? I’m surprised you didn’t spend it with Bobby and Athena to be honest.”

“I was going to but Tommy was going to be alone most of the day. I get the feeling he doesn’t have anybody other than his aunt.”

“Has he not mentioned any friends?” 

Buck shook his head. “Not really. He talks about the people he works with, and he likes them, but they’re not close—not like the 118 are anyway.” 

“You’re always trying to save people.” She said. She wasn’t being accusatory, just stating a fact. 

“He doesn’t need saving, Maddie—I just hated the idea of him being on his own for Christmas. It’s the time you’re supposed to spend with people you care about.” He explained. “But it was nice. I cooked us dinner and we spent the day watching movies. Pretty chill.” 

Buck had kept his word and cooked them both a roast turkey with all the trimmings. Tommy had stubbornly refused to let him do all of the work so Buck had delegated the vegetable preparation to him. 

They’d stood side by side in Tommy’s kitchen in their respective aprons, singing along to Christmas music as they worked. Buck was surprised to find out that Tommy had a beautiful singing voice and had tried to convince him to come along to one of Chim’s karaoke nights. Tommy steadfastly refused but Buck hadn’t given up and was determined to convince him eventually. 

Tommy was the most relaxed Buck had seen him since they’d met. They’d laughed and joked, ate good food and drank good wine, and by the time Clara had arrived in the early evening they were a little tipsy. 

But they were aware enough to switch into boyfriend mode as soon as she walked in the door. 

Tommy moved from his previous position at the end of the sofa to the middle so he was closer to Buck. Their legs were against each others and Tommys arm was along the back of the sofa behind Bucks head. 

Every so often his arm would slip down across Bucks shoulder and each time Buck relaxed into him. Slowly bucks eyes got heavier and he fell asleep with his head on Tommys shoulder. 

Tommy gently woke him up some time later and ushered him upstairs to his bedroom. 

“You don’t have to stay here.” He’d said. “But with my aunt in the guest room, you’d either have to go home or sleep on the sofa.”

“That might look suspicious.” Buck had said. 

Tommy then changed in to pyjama pants and a T-shirt and Buck had opted to stay in the sweats he was wearing and they got into his bed. Buck laid on his back and Tommy on his side facing away from Buck. 

It was silent for a while until Tommy spoke. He reached behind himself until he found Bucks hand and held it gently. 

“Thank you, Evan.” He had whispered in the dark; his voice thick with sleepiness. 

“For what?”

“Best Christmas I’ve ever had.” He lightly squeezed Bucks hand before sleep quickly took over his consciousness and his hand loosened but didn’t fall out of Bucks. 

Buck had laid still; his hand still holding Tommy’s, listening to his soft breathing. It was pitch dark in the room so Buck hadn’t been able to see what Tommy looked like in his sleeping state but he couldn’t help picturing his face soft and relaxed. He sighed deeply trying to calm the flutter in his stomach at the image.

He thought about why this could be Tommys best Christmas. All they did was eat and drink and hang out—it wasn’t exactly a raging party. He thought about his own sad Christmas’s as a child and wondered if Tommy had experienced something similar. He knew that Tommy had loved with Clara for a while and that his dad was homophobic, but beyond that Buck knew nothing about Tommy’s childhood. 

Eventually he had drifted off into sleep still holding Tommys hand. 

“Uncle Buck, look!” 

Buck turned to see Jee dragging a giant stuffed pink pony, bigger than herself, across the floor. 

“Woah!” He cried out. “Santa really did he you a pony, huh?”

“You should have seen Chim carrying that through the airport.” Maddie laughed. 

“It’s probably bigger than him!” Buck joked. 

“Hey.” Maddie lightly chastised with a soft whack to his arm. 

Buck sat down on the floor and laid against the giant pink fluffy horse. Jee immediately jumped on top of him causing to let out an “oomf!”. She giggled as he bounced her up and down on his legs.

“Stop me if I’m being too intrusive but-“

“Since when has stopping you ever actually stopped you?” Buck said back to her. 

Maddie ignored his response. “Have you met someone?” 

Buck stilled from bouncing Jee. “What? No. What- w-why would you ask that?” 

“Just.. I don’t know, these last couple of months you’ve been- you’ve seemed more.. at ease. Little bit more settled, maybe.” 

She wasn’t wrong. He had been feeling like his life was becoming some more of what he wanted it to be. He loved his job—even on the bad days, he had his 118 family, Maddie and his niece whom he adored. His culinary skills had never been better thanks to Bobby and now he had Tommy in his life. 

This amazing firefighter pilot that he still couldn’t believe was his friend. 

Being around Tommy was easy. He never felt like he was in the way when he was around him; that his presence was wanted. They shared the same witty banter and playful insults, could read each others body language and when they had to pretend to be dating, they fell into it with such ease that there were moments when Buck had to remind himself that Tommy wasn’t actually his boyfriend. 

Buck loved Eddie. He loved Bobby and Hen and Chim and Karen and Athena. And they loved him, he knew that, he felt that. But they all had the tendency sometimes to treat him like a child. Or an over excited Labrador that needed a whack on the nose occasionally. 

Tommy never did that. Tommy let him be Evan. Tommy gave him a space to show every part of himself without fear of judgment or condescension. He accepted Evan flaws and all. 

For the first time in his life Buck was beginning to feel like Evan was enough. 

“I guess I am.” 

“What’s changed?” She asked. 

“I’ve just been feeling more myself self lately.” 

“Does this have anything to do with Tommy?” She had a knowing look that Buck wasn’t sure was about. 

“Uh, yeah. Kind of. We-we’ve become really good friends. I feel like.. like he really sees me, ya know?” 

Maddie looked at him for a beat and tilted her head. “Is that all?” 

“Wha-what else is there?” He asked. 

“I just- Look, you know I love you, right?”

“Yeah. I love you too, Maddie. And I love you the most!” He tickled Jee still sat in his lap on the floor. 

“And you know that no matter what I will always love you. And always accept you. Whoever you are.” She raised her eyebrows as though they somehow sent a message that Buck wasn’t getting. 

“Thank you..?” He said confused. 

“I’m just saying that you will always be my brother and however you feel about.. certain things.. I will always support you. No matter what. Don’t ever forget that.” 

“Are you talking about Tommy and I?” He asked and she nodded. “We’re just friends.” He told her. 

“Right, but if you were more than that, that would okay.” 

“A-actually there’s.. there’s something I should tell you.” 

“Oh really?” She said, smiling. 

“It’s not what you think.” He said. “Okay, it’s kind of what you think but not-“ He stopped himself and took a breath. “He and are in a kind of fake relationship.”

“Fake?” 

“We’re pretending to be in one so his aunt stops trying to set him up with men.” He explained.

“Buck.” She said in that admonishing tone. 

“It’s fine, okay. I don’t mind. And-and Clara is actually really cool for an old lady.” 

“So, you’re pretending to be together?” 

“Yes.”

“Okay. How does that work? What do you.. do?” She raised a curious eyebrow. 

“Nothing like that.” He waved his hand. “We just- we act like we normally do as friends, but also hold hands sometimes, put an arm around each other, sometimes kiss each other-“ Maddie's eyes opened wider “on the cheek.”

“Right.” She said looking skeptical. “Well, whatever he is to you, you do seem happier.” She smiled softly. 

“I am.”

*****

Somehow the 118 A shift had managed to also New Year’s Eve off this year and Bobby and Athena were going to hosting a party for everyone. Eddie and was flying back to attend and Tommy and Buck were driving to pick them up. 

“What’s your New Year’s resolution?” Buck asked as they drove along the freeway. 

“Do I look like the kind of guy that makes New Year’s resolutions?”

“No, but you don’t look like a guy who has the voice of an angel either.” 

Tommy scoffed. “Evan, I am not doing karaoke no matter how much you bug me about it.”

“I didn’t say anything!” He protested. 

“Uh-huh.” 

Buck laughed. “Seriously, you don’t believe in resolutions?” 

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that you do?”

“I mean.. yeah. I feel like the new year is like a fresh start, ya know? A chance to look at where your life is and who you are and maybe chance some things.” 

“You don’t need a new year to do that—you can change any time you want.” Tommy countered. 

“I guess. But there’s something about a brand new year that feels good. It’s stupid I know.” 

“Hey, it’s not stupid. If it’s something you like to do then that’s okay. Just because it’s not my thing doesn’t mean it can’t be yours. Tell me—what are your New Year’s resolutions?”

Buck turned in the passenger seat to face Tommy a little. “I definitely want to be more disciplined in the gym.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s hard not to want to be when one of your best friends is built like a tank.” He reached out and gently squeezed Tommys upper arm. 

Did Tommy hear that right? Evan just referred to him as one of his best friends?

“Best friend?” He questioned. 

“Well, yeah.” He said earnestly.

Tommy felt mixed emotions at that. A part of him felt privileged that someone like Evan would see him that way. Truthfully—and perhaps pathetically—he’d never had a best friend before. It was entirely his own doing—he’d never let anybody get close enough to him to build that kind of bond with someone. But Evan was just so easy to know it was no wonder he burrowed himself into Tommys life so easily. 

But, there was a large part of him that felt disappointed. And sad. He knew that Evan was straight, but that didn’t stop Tommy from developing.. something towards him. But despite knowing Buck was straight there was that little delusional side of his brain that hoped that maybe he wasn’t entirely. 

It didn’t help that on numerous occasions he’d wondered if Evan was flirting with him. The way he looked at Tommy or playfully insulted him had him thinking that, although it was an incredibly small chance, maybe it meant something. 

But hearing Evan referring to him as a best friend put an end to those hopes. It wasn't like Evan was a consolation prize--he was a wonderful man to know. But it still stung to have it confirmed that he saw Tommy as nothing more than a friend. 

“Good.” He said smiling at his passenger. There was no doubt his hopes had been dashed, but he really was still grateful to have met Evan and have him in his life. 

Buck regretted calling Tommy one of his best friends as soon as the words came from his mouth. He wasn’t lying—he really did see Tommy as one of his best friends. But what he felt for Tommy was more than that. 

When they weren’t together he thought him constantly; always wondering what he was doing and counting down the hours or days until they saw each other next. He’d turn his head on the street when somebody walked past wearing the same cologne. Every time his phone would ping his heart would light up hoping it was a text from him. 

And there had been numerous times when they were alone he’d honestly thought Tommy was flirting with him. And every time he’d feel his stomach flutter and his skin flush with heat. As much as their romantic relationship was fake, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if it were real. 

But Tommy seemed happy with the best friend designation, and Bucks hope of Tommy liking him were slashed. 

~

“Welcome back.” Buck greeted Eddie with a hug. 

“I didn’t realise you were bringing your boyfriend.” Eddie said hugging Tommy. 

“You told him?” Tommy asked Buck, surprised.

“I had to! If Clara came over and saw the two of you rolling around in your garage she might say something about me.” 

“There’s no rolling, Evan—it’s called sparing.”

“Thank you!” Eddie added. 

Buck rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“If you want I can spar with you sometime. I might even go easy on you.” Tommy said playfully nudging Buck with his elbow. 

“Hey, I don’t need you to go easy on me!” Buck protested. “I reckon I could take you.”

“Oh really?” 

“Is this what you guys are like around Clara?” Eddie asked. 

“What are you talking about?” Asked Buck. 

Eddie looked at them for a second before shaking his head. “Nothing. What time is Bobbys party?”

“Uh, 8 o’clock.” 

“Do we have to bring anything?” Eddie asked. 

“I’m bringing some beer.” Tommy answered. 

“And I’ve made a large batch of brownies.” Added Buck. 

“Are they the chocolate fudge ones?” Tommy asked. 

Buck nodded. “Yup.” 

“Remind me to hide a couple of those before everybody eats them.” 

“No need—there’s an extra batch in my fridge for you.” 

Tommy smiled warmly at the thoughtful gesture as Bucks phone pinged in his pocket. 

“It’s Bobby—he wants us to pick up a few things for him for the party.” 

“Alright. We can stop on the way back to Eddie’s.” Tommy suggested. 

~

The three of them walked into the grocery store and Tommy went off to pick up the wine he said he’d bring leaving Eddie and Buck to get the things Bobby needed. 

“So.” Eddie began as they walked along the meet aisle. “You and Tommy.”

“What about us?” Eddie simply raised his eyebrows at him. “What?” Buck repeated. 

“You said this relationship you were in was fake.” 

“It is.” 

“And the flirting?”

“What flirting?” Buck asked throwing a few packs of pork chops into the basket. 

“At the airport.” Eddie reminded him.

“What? That-that wasn’t flirting.” 

“Buck. I’ve seen you flirt. On the job and off—that was textbook flirtatious Buck.” 

Buck rolled his eyes. “Shut up. It was not.” 

It wasn’t intended to be at least. Was it possible to flirt without realising it? Historically, Buck was great at flirting. He knew how to use his words, his tone, his body language—every move he made was intentional. But that was with women. 

He’d never actively flirted with a man before. He liked Tommy, there was no doubt about that anymore, but Tommy thought of him a friend only. So why would Buck flirt with him?

Eddie knew what Buck looked like when he was having an internal debate and threw him a lifeline. 

“If you say you’re not flirting then you’re not flirting. But for the record, it wouldn’t change a thing between us.” He placed a hand on Bucks shoulder. “Okay?” 

Buck wasn’t ready to talk about his confusing, and clearly unreciprocated feelings yet, but he appreciated Eddie’s sentiment. 

“Thanks.”

“You guys got what you need?” Tommy came up from behind lugging a basket full of wine bottles. 

“Uh, yeah.” Buck replied. “We got everything.”

*****

By 10pm the party was in good spirits. Music was playing—at “an acceptable volume so people can have an actual conversation” as per Athena’s instruction, the dining table, formally covered in food, was half empty and everyone was dotted around the house in various conversations. 

Hen and Karen were in the kitchen with Athena, Chim and Tommy were reminiscing with Bobby about the 118, and Maddie and Eddie were playfully arguing over what music to play. 

Buck was leaning against the fireplace wall watching Tommy. He couldn’t help it. The way his mouth moved when he spoke, the little twitches in his eyebrows when reacting to something Bobby was saying and those beautiful creases around his eyes when he smiled. 

He was mesmerising. 

“Earth to Buck.” Eddie snapped his fingers in front of Bucks face. 

Buck shoved Eddie’s hand away. “What?” 

“Alright.” Eddie said. “Come with me.” 

“Where?

“Outside. Come on.” 

Buck glanced over at Tommy again who caught his eye and smiled before focusing back on what Chim was talking about. Eddie slid the glass door open and closed it again behind them. 

“What’s going on?” Buck asked. 

“You and Tommy.” 

“We’ve had this conversation, Eddie.” Buck moved to open the door again by Eddie stepped in front of him. 

“And this time you’re going to tell me the truth.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Buck, I can practically see the hearts floating around your head like a damn cartoon every time you look at the guy.” 

“I-“ Buck wanted to argue back that Eddie was wrong but what was the point? He gave in with a sigh, walking over to one of the day beds and sitting down. Eddie followed suit and sat across from him. 

“It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because he.. Were friends. He’s made it clear that’s all he sees me as.” He admitted. 

“But you want more?” 

“I dunno, I- We’re.. Yeah. I do.” He sipped from his beer bottle and picked at something imaginary on his jeans. 

He looked at Tommy through the window and sighed. He was grateful to be friends with him and if that’s all he could have of him, he’d gladly take it. But he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t sad that that’s all he could have of him. 

“I gotta say I didn’t think that this is where your interest would lie.” Eddie said. 

“What, Tommy?”

“No, I mean guys in general.” He clarified.

“I didn’t either. I love women—I’ve always loved women.”

“How long have you been leaning in the other direction?” 

“I haven’t. N-not specifically.” He said. “I mean, sure I’ll check out a hot guys ass but that’s normal.”

Eddie gave him a weird look before it shifted into recognition. “Oh my god!” 

“What?”

“When we were in Texas helping out the 126. There was something about the way you were talking to that guy. What was his name. Uh…”

“TK?”

“TK. Yes. The way you were talking to him. Looking back now you were totally flirting with him.” 

“I was not!” Buck protested. “And didn’t you say earlier that you know when I’m flirting?”

“Yeah, now—I didn’t know then as well as I do now. Now I can spot it a mile away.” He sipped his beer. “Trust me—you were flirting.”

Looking back, Buck did think that TK was good looking. He was exceedingly competent at his job and competency was always something that he found attractive in the women he liked. Between his skills as a firefighter, the love his team had for him and the fact that he was willing to fly into a forest fire to save somebody he loved, Buck had thought that he was jealous of TK. Maybe it was actually a crush. 

“I'm curious--what is it about Tommy?” Eddie asked. 

Buck again looked towards Tommy then back at Eddie. “He’s just so cool, and-and confident. He has a cleft.” He couldn’t help the corner of his mouth rising. “He’s calm to be around and when he makes fun of me it doesn’t make me feel bad. I feel good when I’m around him.” 

“But he doesn’t feel the same about you?” Eddie questioned. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“You don’t think so? Has he actually said he only thinks of you as a friend?” 

“I mean.. not technically, but-“

“Have you asked him?” Eddie interrupted. 

“No. And I’m not going to, before you ask.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because the chances of him liking me are slim and-and I’m not going to humiliate myself and ruin our friendship in the process.” He shook his head. “No. Trust me, it’s better that things stay as they are between us. As friends.”

“Look, Buck, I think that you-“

The glass door slid open and Tommy stood with his phone in his hand and a pained expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Buck immediately stood up. 

“That was the hospital. It’s Clara.”

“What happened? Is she okay?” 

“She.. she had a heart attack.”

**********

[fitzselfships]

We are cozy :3

[trashmouth-richie]

Hi! What about a blurb on Eddie taking care of Tooty post Partum

i love this, hope you enjoy it anon

masterlist

a small kiss sweeps against your neck, soft and sweet, followed by a sleepy little moan.

“good morning, baby.”

you roll over and face him, still adjusting to the pull of the stitches in your abdomen wincing as it feels like your muscles are literally being ripped in half.

you grumble and yawn, “no way the sun is out right now, i just laid her back down.”

he loves your sleepy voice, loves the way your hair is tangled into a mess on top of your head, the way your sleep shirt is twisted under you.

motherhood was his favorite look on you. it fit you perfectly and you wore it well. whenever Eddie seemed to be losing his mind not knowing what was going on when both the babies were crying, you were gentle in explaining to him what they needed.

he chuckles into your neck and you find his lips with eyes still closed, kissing him deep, sighing into his open mouth when his fingers cup your cheek.

Six weeks of late nights and spit up stained shirts— you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Eddie had morphed into the biggest softie, nearly crying himself when you trimmed the babies finger nails, never wanting to lay them down when they were sleeping. Wayne was right, he was the best dad.

“you’re so beautiful,” eddie whispers running his thumb over your cheek bone, “my sweet tooty.”

the butterflies for eddie never stopped fluttering and you never wanted them to, he was perfect. you open your eyes and smile up at him.

he’s completely dressed, keys stuffed into his pocket.

“going to the shop this morning?”

“ ‘m taking the babies to go see grandpa and grandma—” you sit up but large hands put pressure on your arms and lay you back down, “nah uh sweetheart, this is daddy’s day out, you just stay put, rest.”

tears well in your eyes and you aren’t sure if it’s from being so tired and drained from lack of sleep or from pure happiness and the thought of sleeping uninterrupted.

“wh—what if they n-need me?” you sob, tears rolling down your cheeks in an uncontrollable flood.

Eddie’s calm voice shushes you, “baby, I packed everything we might need—bottles, formula, diapers, wipes, socks, extra onesies, burp rags.. we will be more than fine.”

you didn’t think they wouldn’t be, but you sobbed even harder. “—i’m go, ugh Eddie! i’m gonna m-miss them.”

the bed dips where eddie sits next to you, rubbing your back, kissing your temple, “you need sleep, honey. it’s the only way you’ll heal.”

it took some more convincing from eddie, but when the front door shut and tires crunched on the gravel, your tears dried, and you hiccuped yourself to sleep— waking in the late afternoon to the smell of fried food and the smoky scent of eddie’s cologne.

“brought some food home,” he said kissing your lips and holding two large drinks and a bag of food in his arms, “wayne and karen wanted to watch the kids for the night…said I looked like hell and should go home and sleep— can you believe that?”

you smirk and his dimples display in his shit eating grin, “diet coke for the lady, and a regular coke for daddy.”

eddie unravels the slick wrappers from each hamburger, handing you a carton of fries as you sit up in bed, joining you with a burger in his mouth like a dog holding its favorite toy.

“regular coke, huh?” you say taking a small bite from your burger, “damn livin’ life on the edge.”

eddie snorts and swallows his food, “right, might even get real crazy and finish the whole thing.”

“eddie the freak munson still has it, ladies and gentleman.”

Eddie’s eyes cloud dark, a smirk on his lips as he walks his fingers under the sheets, towards your inner thigh— knowing full well that you slept in just panties and that oversized shirt these days.

your breath shifts and you swallow hard when his finger tips graze over your clit, a small little hitch catches in your throat and he grins devilishly, leaning down into you, eyes ripping holes into you, swallowing your bated breath as he moves his fingers underneath your panties, and you welcome him with knees pulled apart.

“oh baby… i never lost it.”

[austonwithan-o]

Summer Job- Trevor Zegras x Reader

After a certain boy walks into your hair salon. How could you say no to him asking you on a date? I mean customer satisfaction right?

——————————————————————————

No warnings!

You had just recently moved to Bedford, NY to live with your grandparents. They offered for you to live with them during the summers when it was too expensive for you to fly back to Portland where your parents lived. Attending NYU completely on scholarship you didn’t have time for a job during the school year. You did cut hair on the side for some of your friends and they paid you some which covered some weekend excursions but nothing too crazy. Little did you know that side hustle would lead to you meeting the love of your life.

Sitting in your bed you scrolled through job listings, a lot of grocery stores, gas stations, target, fast food places were hiring but nothing really caught your eye. Annoyed you closed your laptop letting out a groan.

“I refuse to work at McDonald’s mom. I’m not coming home smelling like fries and grease and it’s a whole 40 minute drive from here! There’s literally nothing interesting here.” You were annoyed with the sparse selection of employment available and despite your obvious disappointment your mom let out a laugh much to your dismay.

“Honey I know you don’t wanna come home smelling like a fast food place but you’re gonna have to choose something. Plus it’s just for the summer! Just like what, 2 months? You can survive 2 months y/n or here maybe ask grandma and grandpa if they have any friends who have businesses. They know a lot of people around there.” Her voice rang through the speaker phone on your nightstand, it wasn’t a horrible idea, your grandparents did have a great reputation in the town and a lot of friends.

“Hmm you’re not wrong?” You said picking up your phone, “I’m gonna go talk to them it’s dinner time anyways.”

“Alright sweetie I love you! Have a goodnight and keep me updated on the job hunt.”

“Will do momma! Love you too!” Hanging up and making your way downstairs the smell of your grandmas food was heavenly. You loved it here.

“Oh perfect! I was just about to call you down!”

Your grandpa said pulling a chair out for you to sit. You smiled and thanked him as he pushed it in.

“So grandpa I was on the phone with mom, looking for jobs with her and I was wondering if you knew anyone who would be willing to hire me for the summer? I mean there’s fast food and restaurants and stuff but I just thought maybe you’d have more, I guess, connections around here?” Taking a bite of the chicken on your plate. There was a few seconds of silence before your grandma spoke.

“You know I actually do know someone who’s hiring but are you good with hair? My friend Carla has a hair studio 10 minutes into town and she’s looking for another employee.”

Bingo.

“I can cut hair! I have a little side hustle at school cutting hair for like $10. I mean I’m not professional but I’m definitely not bad at it. I can also style and dye hair too!” This was the perfect job you thought plus the tips would be great!

“Her name is Carla! I’m going in tomorrow to get my hair trimmed. I’ll introduce you to her, she’s such a sweet lady!” Your grandma said, “We will leave around 11? My appointment is at 11:15 and I like getting there a bit early.”

You agreed. After dinner you spent a few hours playing cards and chatting with your grandparents eventually heading up to your room.

You woke up around 10:30am a little tired from staying up watching hair tutorials refreshing your memory on how to cut hair but you didn’t need much reminding.

You showered, got dressed and ran downstairs grabbing the keys to your old Jeep.

“Grandma I’ll drive!” You exclaimed rushing out the door.

“Alrighty I’ll be there in a second.”

The drive was peaceful. Driving through the colorful country you couldn’t help but admire how nice and green everything around you was. Your thoughts were interrupted by your grandma.

“I don’t know if you watch hockey at all but Carla has a little bit of a celebrity customer you know.” She smiled, “I’ve met him before his name is Trevor Zegras. He’s a hockey player. I’m not sure which team but he’s a cutie. Maybe you’ll get to cut his hair.” She shot you a wink making you roll your eyes.

“Ah yes grandma I definitely need a hot hockey player boyfriend to distract me all summer.”

“He’s a very charming young man! I bet you two would hit it off!” You laughed at her statement. A relationship was definitely the last thing on your mind for the summer. Making friends? That would be fun but definitely no boyfriend.

“Grandma you know I don’t need a boyfriend. I mean especially since I would just be leaving to school in a few months.”

“You never know y/n! People come into your life for different reasons.”

You smiled at her words but it was true. You didn’t want a summer fling. It wasn’t your style. If you were gonna date someone it was going to be serious and having a hockey boyfriend was definitely not on your list of things you needed.

You arrived at the hair salon. The sign displayed on top read, “Bedford Village Hair Design” it was a cute little shop. You could see a few workers at their stations and a few customers in the chairs. You both walked in hearing the chime of the bells, “Alice! Good to see you! You’re a bit early but I’ll just get you started over here-“ the woman who you assumed to be Carla gave you a wide smile.

“And who might you be?” She asked pulling you into a hug.

“Carla this is my granddaughter y/n! She’s staying with me for the summer and I brought her here to introduce her to you! She’s looking for a summer job and I think she would be perfect for your salon!” She said as she sat down in the seat, you followed close behind the two, standing beside Carla.

“Well I definitely wouldn’t be apposed! Can you cut men’s hair? I have more and more male clients coming in and I need more help around here!” Carla spoke trimming away at your grandmas hair. She was definitely not new to this.

“Yes! I cut my guy friends hair all the time in school. It’s like a little side hustle so I can make some money during the year.” You explained.

“You know what that sounds great! If you want just swing by tomorrow let’s say around 9:30am and you can start if that’s okay with you? I have someone coming in at 9:45am who you can do. He’s very sweet.”

“That sounds awesome! Thank you so much!”

You waited in the corner for your grandma to be done her hair which took about 20 more minutes and with that you both left after.

The next morning you woke up throwing on a flowy floral dress trying to match the vibe of everyone’s outfits yesterday. You wanted to make a good first impression so you took your time with your hair and makeup. Rushing out the door it was 9:15 by the time you left luckily there’s never any traffic in the small town.

Walking inside the small business you were greeted by Carla and another worker Gracie. She was around Carla’s age and very very sweet as well.

“Hi you must be y/n!” She greeted you giving you a hug.

“Yes! It’s good to meet you?”

“Gracie! My name is Gracie! Well I’ll give you the heads up since you’re new I’m gonna let you take my regular client at 9:45 today. His name is Trevor! He’s very nice so don’t be intimidated and he will let you know how he wants his cut.” She said handing you an apron.

For some reason your heart dropped a bit but you didn’t know why. You hadn’t even met the guy let alone seen his face and already freaking out.

“Are you sure? I mean I can take someone else if you want-“

“Lovely don’t be silly! I insist don’t worry he won’t bite you! I’ll still be here I’ll just be organizing in the back and Carla will be in the front or back with me.” She said and with that the sound of the door opening and the bells jingling made you freeze in your place.

“Carla! Gracie! And new girl?” You shyly turned around to face him. His smiled was so bright and his eyes were so pretty. He walked over and gave Carla a hug all while scanning you up and down. He pulled away eventually giving you a firm handshake. His touch sending sparks up your arm, making butterflies form in your stomach.

Oh my God he was gorgeous.

“Trevor this is y/n! Y/n this is Trevor! She’s gonna be cutting your hair today Trevor.” Gracie said grabbing his hand. His eyes hadn’t left yours and you could sense the nervous energy radiating off of his tall figure. He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair which fell perfectly back into place framing his chiseled features.

“Oh cool! I’ll get a buzzcut this time.” The two older women let out exaggerated gasps slapping his shoulder making him laugh.

“Hey I’m kidding! You know I’d never do that Carla.” You couldn’t help but laugh as well at their reaction. You were already loving this job and you’d been there for about 10 mins.

“Trevor the day you get a buzzcut is the day I officially quit my job.” She handed you a barbers gown and he followed your lead by sitting down in the chair letting you throw it over him securing it in the back. Your hands were shaking and he could feel it as you tied the back lightly brushing the back of his neck.

“Alright y/n let me know when you’re done, I’m going to help Gracie in the back. Trevor no buzzcuts.” She gave him another light slap on the shoulder and he shot her a wink. The two ladies walked off exchanged glances at the two of you.

“You can lean back and I’ll wash your hair first.” He followed your directions placing his head in the neck rest.

“I’ve been coming here for a long time and I’ve never seen you here or around here for that matter. Where you from?” Trevor asked looking at you. You refused to make eye contact with him because you knew you’d fold under his eye contact.

“I’m from Portland but I live here in the summer times and I go to school at NYU.” You explained as you massaged his scalp with the shampoo.

“Oh that’s sick! Yeah I live here during the summers but I’m in Cali most of the year.” He was very obviously enjoying you running your hands through his hair and you couldn’t deny. You did as well.

“My grandma comes here a lot. She said you play hockey huh? I didn’t know there were hockey teams in California.” You admitted almost feeling a bit stupid letting those words leave your mouth. Trevor grinning at your remark.

“It’s a weird place for ice hockey that’s for sure but yeah the Anaheim Ducks. I’m guessing you don’t watch hockey?”

“Not at all. I’m not huge into sports but I played volleyball in high school.” You rinsed his hair off then wrapped his hair up in a towel and motioned for him to move to the hair cutting seat. His height shocked you a bit more when he stood up letting you really observe him. You caught the smell of his cologne as he walked by sitting down in the chair. You couldn’t get enough of him but you were fighting the feelings.

“I’ll have to get you to watch a few games. It’s important if we’re friends you watch hockey or at least know how the game works.” He stated looking at you through the mirror making it harder to concentrate with his gaze.

“Also, keep the shape but just make it a bit shorter. It’s kind of hard to see now.” Trevor grabbed a front strand of his hair pulling it down his face to see how long it was.

“Oh so we’re friends now?” Teasing him a bit. You snipped away at his hair following his request. You couldn’t help but notice all the tattoos on his arms as well letting your eyes scan his features more.

“I mean I’m trusting you with my hair so of course we’re friends but let’s say I ask you out on a date. Would that make or break the friendship.” The question caught you off guard.

Y/n you just said you weren’t gonna date anyone. Tell him no.

“I mean I don’t see how a date could hurt the friendship. I’m free anytime past 4 when the salon closes.” You couldn’t believe you just said that. It was like you had no control.

“Perfect I’ll pick you up at 4 tonight. What you’re wearing is perfect.” You blushed at his comment. Finishing up his hair and blow drying it. He stood up and you shook the barber cape off. You did a pretty good job you couldn’t lie.

“You know I might have you cut my hair from now on beautiful.” He turned around to face you.

“I mean I charge more so if you’re fine with that I’m fine with that.” Joking obviously you walked over to the wall grabbing a broom to sweep up all the hair you cut off.

“Worth every penny. I’ll pick you up at 4 from here. Leave your car here and we’ll just take mine.” Carla came back to the front soon after.

“Yay no buzzcut! You did really well Y/n.” Carla gave you an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Trevor made his way up to the front with Carla to pay while you cleaned up the hair on the floor.

“I’ll see you tonight y/n.” Winking at you he left the salon.

“I’m guessing you two hit it off huh?” Carla smirked.

“I mean I wouldn’t deny it.” You blushed at her comment making her laugh.

“He’s a great kid y/n. I wouldn’t let him near you if he wasn’t.” Carla smoothed out her apron retreating to the back again.

This was gonna be a very interesting summer and an even more interesting school year.

——————————————————————————

Tbh idk how I feel about this one but oh well

[itsgrimeytime]

Home is Where the Heart is (Part Three) || Farmer!Rick Grimes (TWD) x Teacher!GN!reader AU

Part 1, 2...

Taglist: @1tsk1tty

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Like Real People Do by Hozier.

Summary: Your life was spinning out of control, you knew that. After a string of particularly shattering events, you decided it was time to start anew. With a little help from one of your Grandma's rentals, you found yourself in the small town of Alexandria. The last thing you expected was your neighbor, Rick Grimes.

TWS: starting over, swearing, and identity crisis.

[[A/N Baby Jude!!! Still sweet as candy, so all my angsty girlies, I am sorry. Also I may have made the Grandma too southern that is my fault, it is all I know. So enjoy your newly southern Grandma. Thanks for reading!!! ]]

"Grandma," you ushered out -gathering up your stacks of paperwork, "-I'm fine! Really."

She seemed to pause for a moment, saying with a tone you knew well -disbelief, "Sure, you are."

"It's not-" you stopped messing with papers -standing to lean against your wall, diagonal to the window, "-not healed by any means. I'm just... I'm working on it."

Your Grandma sighed, a deep one that let you know you had won, "I suppose that's all I can ask of you, Y/N."

You opened your mouth to respond, but your eyes caught on the window -stalling the words falling from your mouth. From this angle you could see into his, Rick's, front yard, it was trimmed well -only overgrown tastefully, so it didn't look like a suburb.

But along the grass and the few little flowers, was Rick himself. He was crouched over, talking to someone -you thought you could see the peek of blonde curly hair (teeny tiny curls) just to his side. His voice was quiet, you couldn't quite make it out but you could still hear it.

Without a second wasted, Rick launched forward and picked up the little girl -laughter squealing into the air. His daughter. She was still obstructed, as he spun her around and her laughter grew but something in your stomach warmed at the sight.

You smiled.

"Y/N? Did you hear me?"

You startled, swallowing and turning away from the window -trying to level your voice, "Sorry, what? I... I thought I saw a raccoon."

Ogling your (probably married) neighbor! You were so better than that-

"Right," she responded, slowly as if she was suspicious -she always was, "-well, I was asking how the town was treating you. I phoned everyone I knew and told them to be nice to you, you know-"

"You didn't have to," you spoke, adjusting the papers spread across the table -they were somewhat organized, at least to you, "-but everyone has been very kind."

"Good," she spoke -rather pointed, like if you had answered differently she probably would've made some phone calls, "-did you see your neighbor? Rick?"

"Uh..." you started, stiffening, "-yeah. He helped me move in, he's really nice. Why?"

"Quite handsome, no?"

"Grandma!" you hissed out, a playful smile on your lips -she was always so involved in your love life, "-Please, he's probably married-"

"Divorced," she corrected, quickly.

"Sorry?" you asked, a bit dumbfounded, "-You haven't been here in years! How would you...?"

"I have my sources," she responded, rather unbothered -you never knew what to expect from her really.

And you thought, she actually probably did.

You felt eyes on you near constantly when you wandered around the town square. Someone must have seen you speak to Rick the past few days and told her, you thought to yourself, she was sneaky enough to do it.

"Right," you pursed your lips, "-listen, Grandma, I have to get some lesson plans done or my first year of teaching will be a disaster-"

"Hardly," she chuckled, "-you are going to be perfect, it's what you're meant to do, Y/N."

You smiled, a sort of fuzzy fondness draping over your heart -she always spoke so highly of you. Even when...

Your mind wandered too far, as you asked the question before you could even think about it, "Have you... Have you heard from him?"

Your Grandma was silent for a moment, you nearly took it back because of it, "'Just when he dropped off some of your things a couple weeks ago. Pops almost pushed him down the stairs when he did, and I just might've let 'em-"

"Grandma!"

"I didn't, I didn't," she corrected, voice light as she laughed, "-just had a few choice words with 'im, that's all."

It was what you had expected, really; she was the type to be fiercely loyal to her grandkids. There were some things you couldn't stop. That was one of them.

"Love you," you cheered, voice bordering on a sort of solemn tone -it always did when... when he was brought up. You couldn't help it.

She echoed back, playful, "Love you too, call me when you can, alright? Don't leave an old lady worryin'."

"Yeah, yeah," you laughed, "-goodbye Grandma."

"Goodbye, sweetie."

You let out a long sigh -eyes laid gently upon your paperwork scattered across the table, it was somewhat organized. Not to a passerby, but to you. A stack of syllabuses to send home with the kids -for parents to look at, colorful posters to hang up on your classroom walls, and the others an assortment of paperwork prepped for things -supply lists, sick notes, parent teacher conferences.

It was a mess, but a mess you understood.

Beginning to put away folders, sorting things as you did so, you stalled in place by a knock on your door.

Realistically, you should've ignored it and kept sorting -the starting date only roamed closer and you were honestly anything but prepared. Seriously, anything. But, you didn't.

At the mere idea of escaping your paper nightmare, you jumped at the opportunity. Easily make your way to the door so quickly that you are sure papers must've shuffled from the movement -future you's problem.

When you swung open your door, you somehow hadn't expected Rick. Despite the fact he was just outside and your neighbor, you had not imagined anything could drag him away from his kid time. He didn't seem the type anyway, you could tell when a parent cared. And what you had even less expected was his daughter, proudly beaming at you with a toothy sort of grin, blonde curls a mess on top of her head -a charmer, you could tell.

"Hi," you spoke, a little in disbelief, "-Rick, and um...?"

Rick opened his mouth, but his daughter spoke for herself -the sort of barely English babble that toddlers sounded like, something like '-dee' at the end. You could only tell it was two syllables by the way her mouth moved.

"Judy," Rick quickly intercepted, "-her name is Judith."

"Oh," you smiled, before crouching slightly to meet her eyes better -you worked with kids so much, you missed this, "-well, Judith is a very pretty name. Would you like to know my name, Miss Judith?"

She grinned, little teeth spotted in her mouth along her gums -so young, and nodded succinctly -confident.

"Y/N," you hummed with the smallest of a smile, "-I'm Mx. Y/N."

Slowly, you gathered yourself and stood back up, smiling. You honestly weren't sure just who you were smiling at.

Rick stood tall, clothes a little worn like he'd been working -it was midday, and most farmers got most things done in the mornings. His shirt was plain, stained slightly from the grass, and his hair a bit askew -stray curl dipping along his forehead. His beard stayed much the same, bushy, and a misplaced thought of what it felt like dangled in your mind for longer than it should have.

"What brings you to visit?" you asked, finally speaking.

He straightened slightly, sliding a hand to rub at the back of his neck -nervous, maybe?- and blue eyes flickering between your own, "Right, 'hope we ain't bothering ya-"

"Oh, no," you responded, "-I was struggling with some paperwork, honestly you saved me."

"Good to kno'," he smirked, a crinkly sort of smile, "-I just. Since y'er new 'round town, I wanted to invite ya to dinner."

"Dinner?"

"I make dinner for a bunch of the town's people," he clarified, and something in you was a little disappointed, "-it's kinda an irregular thang, but I've sent one up for the day after tomorrow. Back to school thing this time around."

"Oh," you echoed, softly.

"You don't have'ta," he muttered out -low and gravelly, "-but I wanted to offer. 'Might help ya get used to the town."

"As long as I'm not intruding," you spoke -almost on instinct.

"I invited you," Rick responded, laughing lightly, "-plus, it's custom f'er newcomers."

"Okay," you grinned, tilting your head slightly, "-yeah, I'll come. I think I need some socialization anyway. Apart from..." You, your mind finished.

"Alright," he grinned, and something in your chest warmed -you ignored it, "-it'll be around 6, but feel free to come 'round earlier. I can introduce you to some people if ya want."

"And if I just stick around you the whole time? What then?" you teased with playful ease.

He paused for a moment, seeming to think on it. Before he settled, smiling widely with the crinkles by his eyes -pleased with himself.

"I wouldn't say that was an issue, Mx. Y/N."

Your heart thumped against your ribs, something sparking deep in your chest and you neatly clamped it down. Not now. You ignored it, even as the bubble of warmth warmed your chest and the smile stuck in your mind long after he left.

Until then, you thought to yourself that night -looking up at the ceiling, eager, -Mr. Grimes.

[thehutpoint]

In Ye Olde Times, when beautiful and brave boys were swarming both poles to die there in stupidly heroical (or heroically stupid) fashion, and smoking was still socially accepted, the cigarette producents added collectible items to the packs. For instance the cards depicting famous people. Obviously, the Terra Nova pole team became insanely famous after they froze to death on the return leg of their trip (WHY MY TITUS?!) so yes, their depictions ended up on the cigarette cards. You could find Titus, Scott, Bill and Birdie (unfortunately not Taff, because classism, baby) and different antarctic landscapes in the pack of the Players cigarette brand.

That one is obviously my beloved Titus Oates in his polar gear. The artist tried hard to catch that likeness, he did well with the eyes and these tiny dimples in the corners of Laurie's lips, slightly worse with the shape, but at least Titus looks here like a human and not something that crawled out of the Uncanny Valley.

Scott, for some reason, looks at the viewer with deep distrust and I can only imagine he glanced like that at poor Teddy during that long polar winter night. Still, likeness is pretty good, the artist caught it better than Scott's own wife (I swear, the face of Scott's statue in Christchurch is exact same face that the one Kathleen carved into the memorial plaque for Titus in Eton).

Bill looks very much like himself, gazing lovingly upon someone behind the viewer. Is it Scott? Is it Shackles? Well, that's Bill's sweet secret.

Poor Birdie clearly got a nosejob and looks like a long lost cousin of Ernest Shackleton. Clearly the artist had something against the big noses, because Birdie's organ isn't the only famous polar schnoz that got trimmed.

Well, yes, that's Roald Amundsen, just like Birdie, after a nosejob. His gaze looks a bit like he is stoned and will get munchies on a raw seal meat soon. The artist had also a bit of difficulty with drawing properly the Inuit anorak, so Roald looks a tad like he is dressed in one of these kigurumi pjs.

As a final accent, Titus training a pony in a polar landscape, the mound behind them is probably our old friend Erebus. While I must applaud the artist for getting the shape of the famous DIY sackcloth balaclava correctly (even if he did not get the size right and is it me or does Titus look in this DIY sackcloth balaclava like a crazy, overgrown polar version of Red Riding Hood? Like Antarctic Sackcloth Riding Hood, trying to extort brandy from Grandma Billson's basket?), the boots, on the other hand are, umm, nope.

[lissomelace]

*Kicks down the door, eyes mad*: LISSO! Lisso you absolute master of writing, fuck, this last chapter? Why did you do this to me! AAAAAaaaaaaa!!!! In my haste to read it I was late to work. *Starts chewing on it like on a piece of jerky*

One. I want a Russo now. He is just. Soft. Squishy. I died on that scene where Finno goes at him and Russo just, narrates things to Ingo. The hand-holding?!?! The hand-holding over Russo's hair?!?!? Ingo having him in his lap basically?!? Why do you do this to me?!?! THE BEGGING?!?!?! The initial scene where Finno just sees them cuddling constantly?!

Finno is damn feisty there, and it's also a good look on him, ngl. Just. In my head I have this mental image of him doing the Toothless growl-> sudden switch to "it's actually fine" when he notices that Ingo is Ingo and not anybody else. And that bite? Mhhhh, yes, that was hot.

AND SEEING INGO DO SO WELL WAS SUCH A TREAT! I re-read the first chapter, and oh, my heart, we have come so far!

Also the BANTER?!? They are actually BANTERING?!? Nature has healed. I'm in heaven.

This chapter was so sweet, and soft, and yes, hot, but so sweet at the same time. It's so good to see them happy. I want to chew on your smut scenes to extract your methods, those are so well written. (Tho I miss the politics a bit...I kinda want to see the reforms...I know this was not the goal of this fic, but I got attached to The Grandma Of Law, XD.)

Anyhow. Enough of my deranged howling. Here, have something of a treat. (I would have draw the hand-holding scene, but I do not trust myself with nakey bodies to draw. And the angle would be tricky. So. Cuddling it is.)

The tengwar that points to Russo you will have to decipher yourself, XD.

AAAAAAA THAT PICTURE AAA YOUR ART AAAAAA

AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAA I am SO glad you enjoyed it so much!!! I am very sorry you were late to work, but I am SO GLAD the chapter was SO EDIBLE!

Russandol is DEFINITELY the best (in my interpretation in this particular fic, at least!) And I did it to you because you and everyone else who has been having to deal with the literal TONS of agonizing yearning and massive angst for *checks count* 30+ CHAPTERS quite deserves a great deal of squishy payoff. So long as the payoff you want is what happened in the chapter. Which, uh. It seems like it might have been.

Yes! Let Findekano be feral! Let him take a bite out of Russo. He's REALLY going through it in that chapter, he totally deserved it (and russo also deserved it, of course, and had tons of fun!)

Ingo HAS come so far! He deserves ALL THE GOOD THINGS RUSSO AND FINNO ARE GOING TO MAKE SURE HE GETS!

I have to say, I don't really have concrete methods for writing smut (that I'm aware of, at least). I guess...having read a lot of smut helps? And research? (that isn't a euphemism i promise, more like a looooong internet search history that includes a lot of stuff like 'how does [body part] work,' 'how to [sex act],' and '[insert big cat here] reproduction.')

We will probably get a bit more politics before the end! (no promises, my 'outline' for the rest is...sparse. like 8 sentences with one being 'a bit on the legal side of things'.) I'm so glad you love Niquelote (lol, she is SO The Grandma Of Law XD). The direct aftermath of the reforms will probably not be a huge focus for now, but they will factor significantly into the plot of future installments in this series.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THAT PICTURE IS SO PERFECT THEY ARE SO SWEET THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!! CUDDLES! INGO GETS ALL THE CUDDLES! I"M SO OBSESSED WITH THE WAY YOU DRAW CLOTHES THOSE TUNICS AND CUTS AND TRIMS AND INGO"S JEWELRY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

SO SWEET! SUCH TENDERNESS! AAAAAAA

...Thank you very much! They are absolutely perfect and it looks amazing!

Your ask (your ART) made my day! Thank you so much!

(asl;dkjfasldjfasd;lkjflksjjdklskjf he absolutely will!!!!!!)

[holly-opal]

Logs to send for Jessica

My Beautiful Music.

[Log Begins]

Do you remember when we were kids? When we rode our bikes to the around the neighborhood, trying to see who was the fastest and racing to the kitchen every time the sun was setting. I remember you wanted to ride outside the town, you wanted to see something new apart from old lady Dahlia watering her marigolds or Mrs. Trims walking her demonic dogs that I'm 89% sure she bought straight out of hell. I didn't want to go. I was too scared to leave the safety of my neighborhood. Amazing how when time passes, your opinions on something changes? Back then, I wanted to stay with mother forever. Now, I left without saying goodbye to her and moved here in Rosefield..... Ugh. Enough of me ranting. We went to the old mansion, the one where the Salem's lived in before they died in that car crash. I'm sure you remember.

When I first saw it, I was amazed. I think it was because I've never seen a big house before. You put away your bike and ran inside without warning, I fell over trying to get off my bike and got a small bruise on my arm. The mansion was dark, and there was mold and dust everywhere. It smelled so awful. It smelled like a dead animal in there. I ran around the place looking for you, I was screaming your name, and I was scared because you weren't responding. I almost tripped multiple times by the furniture on the floor, and I think my floral shirt ripped on one of them. I finally found you in the music room. At first, I thought you were the one playing the piano, and I really liked it. But I saw that you were nowhere near the piano. You were staring at it, wide eyed and mouth agape. I was confused, "Jessica?" I said, "What's going on?" You pointed at the piano, your hand was shaking. I looked at the person playing the piano. She had long black hair, and her skin was pale, almost as pale as mother was, and she was wearing a beautiful pink frilly dress. I thought she was pretty, until I saw the worms. They were ripping into her skin just to get a taste of her rotting flesh, skinny ones were desperately trying to get inside while fat ones were slowly exiting out of her, satisfied with their meal.

I wanted to scream, but I couldn't make a sound. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn't move. I was frozen in place. You were frozen too. The girl stopped playing, and just... Sat there. She turned her head around to look at us. I can still hear the bones breaking and her skin tearing just so she could make eye contact with us without moving her body. Her neck turned 180 degrees, and I saw her hideous face. Mold, maggots, holes, and some strange kind of slime was covering her rotten face. Her right eye was gone, only insects and worms filled the void, and I couldn't tell if her left eye was bloodshot or moldy. It looked like she had pinkeye. And her mouth was stretched so wide, I was hoping it was fall off already, but it didn't. It never did. It just stayed in a permanent state of a wide smile, showing her yellow teeth and her missing tongue. She started laughing. It started out as a small giggle, then it turned into a chuckle, and suddenly loud laughter that you only hear from insane people. She got up, her back stretching up and up and up, her skeletal system popping and cracking to adjust to the new size. She was so tall. I think she was either 7ft or 8ft tall? I don't know. Besides running out of that mansion covered in cuts and bruises, scrambling to get our bikes and run the hell out of there, everything else was a blur. I heard her behind us, loud footsteps and her heavy breathing, all as we tried our best to get out alive. I looked back that day, when we were getting on our bikes, she was standing there. On the foot of the door, with her giant smile, and waving goodbye to us. Her long fingers looked sickening to me.

You and I went back home, and we went to the bathroom. We patched each other up and we went to our rooms, watched cartoons on the TV Grandma got for us, and only us. You told Mother that you weren't feeling well, and I said that same, told her that I got it from you. She let us stay home from school, not out of empathy though, I am 100 percent sure she was just glad that she didn't have to waste time driving us to school when she could be home, smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey until she cried herself to sleep in the couch. We wouldn't leave each other's sides. We were attached to the hip. Now not so much. I moved away, and you.... Hmmm....

....I know you don't want me to go back to to that mansion. If you were here with me, you'd either be strangling me or begging me not to go. But I have to, Jessica. I have to. I need to know more about that place, I need to get answers, I need to see if I can... I can... Christ... I have to go now, I'll update you on what I find. It was nice talking to you, Jessica.

Goodbye.

[Log Ends]

.

.

.

Come to me, Lesley. Come hear my music.

[sad0nion]

my darling sweet wonderful bad girl Little turned 17!

she prefers to say in my room away from other pets and people. if i am out of the room for too long, she starts yelling for me to come back. she has a special sleeping spot on my desk so she can be near me. she MUST cuddle EVERY night in the same way, tucked in my arms if i'm sleeping on my side, or on my chest if i'm sleeping on my back. she has sharp claws that she can't seem to fully retract, but i don't trim them because they help her jump up on the bed. if i roll over in bed, she walks over my face to get to the new cuddle spot. if she's hungry and i need to get her more wet food, she yells at me until i get her some, but she won't go eat it when i put it down in the same exact spot as always unless i pick her up and place her in front of it. she bites my toes.

she has been with me since i was a kid, she has been there for every major moment of my life. she helped me with my fear of the dark, she has cuddled with me when i cried, she has yelled me out of panic attacks. she has made 2 moves with me, lived with me in a camping trailer for 4 months between homes, and loved me the entire time.

she is so incredibly special to me and i'm so glad she's still doing so well at age 17. she still plays and runs around on my bed, she's in good health, and takes her 2x daily medicine so easily. she's my heart and my home and i love her very much<3

(story of the start of our codependency under the read more)

we got her when she was a kitten and i was 10. we got her at a pet store, and i ended up walking around with her in my arms for like 30 minutes while my mom shopped. maybe that's part of the reason she became so attached to me, idk

maybe a year or so after we got her, we left to visit my grandma for a week. the neighbors looked after our cats while we were gone. at the time, i think we had... 6 cats? anyway. Little was never much of a people cat, so the neighbors didn't see her much while we were gone, not too weird. but when we got back, we realized that Little had been so upset that i was gone that she hadn't been eating and was barely drinking. she had lost A LOT of weight, and her ears and eyes were yellowing. we rushed her to the vet, and they kept her overnight on fluids and such. she was going into liver failure iirc. i don't really remember how long she was at the vet, but when she was well enough to come home, they were going to show us how to force feed her, because she was still refusing to eat on her own.

before the vet showed us, i asked if i could try feeding her. i put my finger in the wet food and held it out to her, and she ate! we didn't have to force feed her at all, i would just sit with her and feed her from my finger. eventually, she would eat from a spoon i held out for her. then a dish i held. then on her own! she made a full recovery!

since then, though, we've taken her on every road trip to visit my grandma. took some trial and error, but we figured out the best way to travel with her is to put a harness and leash on her, then have her sit in my lap on her adventure time blanky :) she does really well and love to stick her face up to the air con vent. she's my sweet tiny travel buddy :)

[hautevaux]

@caeca-iustitia asked: Vincent hadn't the time to deliver Vaux's Christmas gift in person- what with them having much to do and little time to do it- so they neatly packaged it up and deposited it upon the tailor's desk. The bag was relatively innocuous with silver ribbon handles and a glittery snowflake pattern adorning the sides- a simple label addressing Vaux looped around one of the handles. 'I hope this gift finds you well this Christmas season. I found this rather quaint piece on my travels and thought you might get some amusement out of it if nothing else. I was torn between this one and a fetching red one but settled upon this one as I know it is more to your preferences. Merry Christmas. From, Vincent.' Inside the bag, wrapped in plain white tissue paper, was a floor-length pink silk robe with a faux feather trim around the bell sleeves and the hemline. It was rather ridiculous to imagine someone as gothic and imposing as Vincent purchasing such a thing with a straight face. Still, it was rather soft and boasted a designer label upon the inside so Vincent had clearly done their best to think about what Vaux may enjoy or appreciate regardless of how daft they looked whilst purchasing it. (Merry Christmas! Hope you have a wonderful day and enjoy the holiday season! - Em)

Vaux hadn't intended on heading into the boutique that day: he had chosen to take a break for the festive season the night before, leaving the running of the store to the few that were working - only learning to be open for a few hours for the last number of pick-ups and purchases. He had ended up heading in, however, as he'd forgotten a number of things that he would rather to have at home with him during the time they were closed, and finding the bag sat neatly upon his desk bought quite the smile to his face, unexpected as it was.

Eyes initially moved to seamstresses, presuming it had been them that had put it there, but upon further investigation of the label did he receive the answer to the question he had been pondering.

"Vincent-" He smiles, affectionate tone lost on the emptiness of the room, sitting himself upon his desk to open what was actually his only gift of the festive season. He'd not been one to celebrate since he had been a child, and certainly not since he had moved to Midgar - in fact, his sister would be settling at their mother's for the holiday period where they'd no doubt enjoy themselves, without Vaux receiving an invitation. Not that he would go anyway.

Still, he treasures the gift before he has even opened it, ans like a child momentarily does he feel a rush of excitement - the content naught he could have imagined. A wonderful choice, he had to admit! Full of drama and sass, just like Vaux himself was, and he couldn't wait to swan about his home with that and a pair of matching boxers on.

Ere long, he's headed home and while he walks, one bag in hand, does he pull out his phone to message.

MSG: VINCENT 💖" You know, you have wonderful taste, darling. Xoxo

MSG: VINCENT 💖" Thank you. Truly. It means more than I can say. And you know - - if you're on your own this Christmas and fancy swinging by, you're more than welcome to. It'll only be me, probably cooking my grandma's old recipes. Xoxo

MSG: VINCENT 💖" So if you find yourself craving a cookie and a hug, you know where to find me xoxo

[skull-writes44]

Where Tito Allen Went

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

Type: Short Horror Story Trigger Warnings: toxic family dynamics, childhood trauma, loss of identity, gaslighting, alcoholism, illness, death, implied cannibalism; mentions of flesh, guts, and raw meat Word Count: 2370 Glossary: Tito = Uncle Tita = Aunt Lola = Grandma Lolo = Grandpa Synopsis: An adolescent boy tries to reconnect himself to his Filipino heritage by learning how to cook cultural meals, leading him to experience the dangers of blindly following customs and traditions without questioning them in the process. ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

“Take the number 13 all the way down Chinatown, get off near the restaurant with a sparrow painted on its front window, walk down two blocks, turn left…”  

I looked down at the instructions I jotted down on a crumpled piece of folder paper as I walked, my lola’s voice playing over and over again as if she were by my side to repeat it to me.  I sighed, rolling my eyes as I turned the corner.  I never saw the butcher shop Lola wanted me to buy her meat from before, so I just looked for my Tito Allen’s tired face, since he owned it.  After I surveyed the area with squinted eyes, I spotted the shop, only because I thought it looked exactly like the way my lola described it; it had a bright red sunshade with yellow trim hanging over it to protect them from the summer heat, a hanging sign with a graphic of a slice of raw meat, and a metal partition covering the butcher’s station up to his elbows to prevent any mess from getting on the customers.  

I walked up to the counter only to be met with an absolute stranger.  I greeted the guy and asked him for the freshest meat he had in stock, as I was instructed to do.  He then looked at me, reluctantly slamming the blade of his knife into the counter as he turned his back on me to check the storage unit.  The man was gone for a while, so I waited with a tapping foot.  After checking my watch for the thousandth time, I realized twenty minutes had just gone by, and he still wasn’t back.  Before I was going to sarcastically commend the guy’s customer service, I absentmindedly decided I’d look over the partition to see what he could’ve been up to.  What I saw shocked me to my core and made my stomach fluid seep into the back of my mouth.

I spent the first years of my life in the Philippines, but I didn’t stay there long enough to gain any coherent memories from there.  My parents love to say that I was born and raised there, but we moved out of the motherland and to the U.S. for a job opportunity Daddy was offered before my brain was old enough to process anything.  Throughout the years, I couldn’t help but hold a grudge against my entire family for taking me out of our home country.

Since we moved, I was stuck in a weird situation where I was “too immigrant-like” for my peers and “too American-like” for my family.

Whenever it came to family dinners and gatherings, I was never able to understand what any of my relatives were saying to me since they spoke Ilocano; my parents were dead set on only teaching me English, so it was the only language I knew how to speak.  I couldn’t express how much I missed them or ask them about what they’ve been up to, so I’d smile and nod while I hid behind my mother to do the talking.  Though I appreciate the fact they never mentioned it to my face, I always hear my titas talk behind my back about how “American” I was and how I “wasn’t real” just because I couldn’t speak in their mother tongue. 

Despite the fact that I was always “the American” at home, I was “the immigrant kid” at school.  To my classmates, my English was “broken;” even if English was the only language I spoke, it wasn’t good enough to be considered articulate.  I tried to improve by pouring a bit of devotion into my language arts classes, but no matter how many essays with A+’s in red ink I was handed back, I was never able to form sentences half as good as the ones I put down on paper from the top of my head.  I wasn’t the only person who spoke this way, but the smell of the “stinky” lunches my mom would pack me chased away any chances I had of making a friend. 

I grew up hating myself because no one seemed to like anything about me, so I figured I shouldn’t either.  I distanced myself from my culture altogether, often obsessing over my looks as I fantasized about clawing all of my ethnic features out of my flesh with my bare hands.  After many nights of crying to God and begging him to make me normal, thanks to spending the summer of my freshman year with my lola, I realized that something connected me to my roots in the Philippines after all. 

The only thing I had in common with any of my relatives is that we loved Lola’s cooking.  In our family, making food for someone was always a way to show them we love and care for them.  Something about sitting at the dining room table and having a plate of hot food that Lola cooked placed in front of me just made me forget about all the anger I felt, whether it be towards my family or my classmates.  Not only did Lola’s dinners pack a strong punch of flavor, but it also held a lot of history.  I spent my summer as a fourteen year old listening to her talk about the memories she had behind each meal she made, whether it was during the time she made it or who she enjoyed the meal with.  Lola thought it was a good idea for me to start helping her with the cooking so I could experience that bond too.  From that summer forward, I became Lola’s sous chef, dicing ingredients and measuring out seasonings for her to incorporate to her cooking.  One of our favorite things to make was her delicious beef stew. 

Usually for toppings and garnishes, we wouldn’t add anything too special to it: onions, potatoes, carrots, lettuce, garlic, beef stock, peppercorns.  The main star of the show was the meat in the dish.  Lola had a very specific kind of meat that she liked to put in it, and no beef or pork could ever compare in terms of its rich flavor and soft texture.  Back in the day, when my lolo was young, he used to spend the whole day out hunting to catch and butcher the animal this meat came from.  Lola remembers that the very first thing he cooked for her was a stew with this meat in it, and she nearly fell harder for the dish than she did for him.  Later on in their time together, Lola realized that the meat was good for more than stew: steak, skewers, sliders, even ribs.  Since then, Lolo would go out hunting near holidays and other special occasions so they could cook together and bring the meat to gatherings.  I’ve been told that just the sight of it falling off of the bones as you pulled it from a set of ribs was mouthwatering.  Mommy jokes that it was so good, everyone’s cheeks were too full to question what it was and how they cooked it.  The endearment for the dish spread from their household, to their whole family, to their entire neighborhood.  A year or two after we moved to the U.S., Lola had the idea to open up a butcher shop for Lolo to share his delicious food. 

When Lolo became ill, the whole family was devastated.  Before he died, he passed on his business to their eldest son, my Tito, Allen.  He spent his last few months with us up and about, showing Tito Allen and his brothers the ropes of how to prepare the meat, run the shop, and how to serve the customers.  The family fell apart when Lolo’s time came, Tito Allen especially.  Even though the two were never all that close, he never seemed to smile after he had left him with the shop, the look in his eyes screaming melodies of pure misery; his cheeks sunk in and the skin under his once cheerful eyes began to droop and turn a dark, dull purple.  Tito Allen seemed to age a million years with the only remnants of Lolo being the shop he left in his name.  Even though Tito Allen willingly took up his apron every day and treated each and every one of his customers as if they were family of his own, he never seemed to have a happy day of work since his very first day on the job.  When we would ask him about it, he would respond vaguely.

“It’s alright.  That’s how it is.  It’s what your lolo would have wanted.” 

There came a time where Tito Allen had hit an all-time low.  Work had become so bad for him that he began to drink again, screaming and hollering if he wasn’t slumped in his chair as he stared aimlessly into his family’s TV screen.  His face and his hair was always coated with a thin layer of sweat, and his shirt was always soaked with stains.  When things got really bad, he went to Lola to cry, just as if he were a little boy.  One day, he visited when I happened to be over, and I listened in on their conversation.  I wasn’t too sure about what they were talking about at the time, but I did hear this in the midst of their conversation.

“Mama, I can’t do this anymore!  I just can’t take it!  I need to tell someone!” 

“It’s okay… It’s not your fault.  You just can’t let the children know.  They love it too much.  It’s the only thing they have left of Daddy, you know.”  Lola reassured him as she held him in her arms, rocking back and forth as if she was quelling a baby.

I frowned at the time, just shrugging it all off and going about my day.

Not too long after, I noticed that I haven't seen Tito Allen around.  Before I knew it, he seemed to have gone missing.  I asked Lola about it, and she acted surprised that she hadn’t told me sooner.  

“Michael, your Tito Allen had a mental breakdown."

My eyes widened at the sentence.  Out of all the worried questions I had about what happened to him that I hurled at my lola, she only answered one of them. 

“So, what’s going to happen now?”

“He’s been made a meal and been dealt with.  Nothing for you to worry about.” 

It supposedly wasn’t anything to worry about, but I laid awake at night thinking about it.  The last time I ever heard his voice was when he was brought to tears over how stressful his life had been, and I didn’t want to remember him that way.  I wouldn’t stop asking my lola about him, continuously asking her where he was or if she’d heard from him lately.  She figured that since I was so worried from not seeing him in so long, we’d whip up a dish that would make us forget Tito Allen was ever gone at all; the beef stew.  I frowned, certain that we couldn’t make it without Tito Allen to help us prepare the meat.  Lola smiled at me, telling me not to worry since the butcher shop was still open.  It’d been about three or four years since I started cooking with her, and I had yet to see what the shop looked like.  She sat me down and told me to listen closely; I sighed, taking out a ball of paper from my pocket to write down what she had to say. 

When I arrived, the irritated face that greeted me was unfamiliar, but I didn’t think that mattered since I knew Tito Allen wasn’t well.  Whether it was out of pure spite or just curiosity, I looked over the metal partition and at the butcher’s station.  To my horror, I saw a decapitated head lying on the cutting board facing away from me, flesh spilling out of the bottom like animal fat from a raw steak.  I slowly reached in, turning the cutting board towards me so I could get a better look.  The head rolled over to face me.

It was Tito Allen. 

I rode on the bus with a plastic bag full of meat in my hand, my eyes teary from the thought of where the meat came from.  As much as I wanted to chuck the bag out of the fire escape and vomit all over the floor whilst I cried my eyes out, I sat there with my fists clenched and my lips pursed; like Mommy said, everyone loved the food and the memories that came with it too much to even question where it all came from.  Now that I know, I’d give anything to live in blissful ignorance once again.  There is no way I could tell anyone about what I saw from our “beloved family tradition,” and I wouldn’t think they’d believe me anyway.  When it comes to my family, I hold no power in what they want to put in their mouth and what they don’t, and they’ve proven to me time and time again that I never will.  

When I got home, I placed the bag on the counter and told Lola I felt sick. She got on her tiptoes to pat me on the head, escorting me to my room before tucking me in and closing the door behind her.  I cried myself into a shallow sleep, soon awaking to the sound of knocking at my door.  Lola’s keys chimed as she jiggled the lock to my door open.  She greeted me and asked me if I felt better upon walking in, to which I nodded.  She planted a kiss on my forehead as she left a bowl of steaming hot stew on my bedside table, smiling as she walked towards the door and left me to eat.  I looked in the broth, seeing the repulsed expression on my face glaring into it.  As I heard my family laugh and chatter in the dining room while they ate, I couldn’t help but sit on my bed and think to myself,

”So that’s where Tito Allen went.”

[theboysfromaustin]

Halloween repost: The Ballad of the Creepy House

----

My paternal grandparents' house was built in the late 1800s, and I believe they acquired it in the 1960s or 70s.  Spent a good deal of time at that house, much as I could, my dad dragging us from Michigan to Indiana (ew) to Texass to Tennessee and back to the garbage state for computer work.  Lot of summers, lots of Thanksgivings, maybe a couple Christmases.  Large chunk of my family, paternal and maternal lives (or lived) around southwestern Michigan.

That house had an air of fucked-upedness.

It was a two story house, kind of Victorian, I guess?  Lot of gingerbread trim.  Very pretty.  It had a basement as well, I don't remember an attic - I never went into one, the basement was bad enough.

The basement was very large, and had a set of stairs (which I have fallen down), and had two distinct sections - the vaguely scary one with the washer and dryer along with The Closet, which is where my father told me a monster named Oscar lived.  He now denies this.  Classy.

The other half of the basement was, when my grandfather was alive (he died in 98 or 99) both awesome and ball-retractingly terrifying.  He had a big, badass electric train setup.  I am a man who can appreciate a fine train landscape and this thing was the tits.

The bad part was, this section was well-lit.  The rest of this godforsaken hole in the ground was pitch goddamn black, and just full of…stuff, looming menacingly in the shadows. I did not go beyond the light down there, because I was terrified.  I was last in this house for Thanksgiving 2014, and I was sent to the basement to look for a pitcher.  No pitchers, but at least 5 coffee makers.  I looked through the door into the doom pit, felt my stomach clench in terror, and fled.

Nobody liked that fuckin' basement.  Redfin photos from when my aunt moved my grandma out due to that fucker Alzheimer's don't even go in the dark half.

Don't blame them, I don't think realtors get paid enough to potentially be dragged to hell.

First floor was fairly normal, except my mom once saw the ghost of an old lady in the kitchen.  Also to note, the door frames in this place were low as shit.  I'm 5 foot 7, and by the time puberty punched me repeatedly in the pituitary gland, I was constantly getting bonk bonk on the head and learned to start ducking.  There was also an office that, after my mom started using oxygen 24/7, had a bed set up in it for our visits.

Also, one time a squirrel got in the house and terrorized my grandmother over the course of a few days.  It was one of those lil' fuckers introduced by John Harvey Kellogg.  You know, that cereal fucker.

Upstairs was a bitch and a half to get to.  I think my grandfather, my delinquent dad and his delinquent brothers installed the Death Stairs.  Did a shit job.  They were steep, they were narrow, and they were covered in the slipperiest carpet the 60s or 70s could barf up.  Everyone hated these stairs.  I've always been stomping around in natural clown shoes, so these were A Special Challenge.  I think most people in the family fell victim to the stairs at some point or another, but I managed to fall from the first step down, Zetsu Tenrou Battouga'd my ass all the way to the hardwood floor below where I slammed onto my back.

Had a goddamn Rorschach test black and blue mark on my whole damn back after that.

Maybe that explains why my spine hurts so bad now at 35.

Huh.

Upstairs, there were 3 bedrooms and a bathroom with a shower.  The one bedroom was my grandparents', the other two were the guest rooms.  My sister generally stayed in the middle room after my parents started using the downstairs one, don't know how they both fit, that bed sucked.  It was narrow, the mattress was hard, and would tilt dangerously if you didn't stay dead center.

This room was adorned with photos of dead relatives, like really old photos where nobody is smiling and their eyes are emotionless because Emoting Was A Sin.  I don't know how my sister stayed in there with the scary photos because she's a total wiener about horror movies who had to come sleep in the bed with me after my mom took her to see Blair Witch.  And The Ring.

I always got stuck in the room next to the bathroom.

That room was….awful.

First of all.

From the time I could be in a Big Boy Bed without falling out and dying from cracking my soft, egglike head on the hardwood floor, there was a fucking baby crib in front of the wardrobe, which at least kept it closed and the Narnia shit at bay.  Now, for whatever reason, probably my Chihuahua-level anxiety, this baby crib scared the everloving piss out of me.

But Ian, it's just a crib, how is that scary?  I don't know, my brain is a mess, but the FEAR of waking up in the night and hearing Baby Noises™ was sufficiently terrifying as was the prospect of getting up to use the bathroom and there being some….thing….in the crib.  You know, like in Eraserhead.

But that wasn't the worst part, somehow.  Oh no.

The bed was in a corner.  Now, for some reason I can only describe as "total bullshit" there was a closet on the wall, you know, with a door as well as another, tiny closet a few feet up the wall, about half the height of the normal closet.  The bed blocked it, but the top of the door frame ended maybe 6 inches above the mattress.

This had no solid door.

This had a curtain that was supposed to protect me from whatever nightmares lurked within.  This was horrifying, because it was at such a perfect height for me to fling a limb into The Unknown.  Which was absolutely god damned TERRIFYING.  I don't even know what was stored in there.  Ain't no way I was looking, either.  I tried sleeping on the other side of the bed, away from the danger hole, but I am not what anyone would call a "serene sleeper." One vacation, I had to share a hotel bed with my sister, and at one point, according to her, I "sat up, violently elbowed her in the gut, and rolled over."

This does sound like me, so I believe it.

So, inevitably I would trundle across the bed and back to the object of danger.  Can't sleep on the floor to mitigate this problem because there was ALSO a motherfucking trap door, which was partially covered by the rug.  I don't know what was down there.  Probably spiders.  Maybe whatever cryptid was lurking Michigan.  Maybe the Dogman was hitching around Berrien county, I don't know.

Fuck that room.

I kind of would have liked to have owned that house so I could uncover the vast amounts of crazy bullshit that lurked within its walls, but I am not a rich man, and it honestly needed a lot of repair work done.

Also the stairs would have eventually claimed my life, this I know.

Also, there was a large garage in the back with an attic filled with things.  All I remember being in there was a vintage ride-on Dalmatian toy that had a terrible face and, given the rest of the shit about that house, probably rolled around there on its own.

Christ.

[elefantdaydream]

PFAS

Ch 9: Dino & Drugs

Dino was a very special guy in my life, he was a year younger than me. Dino was very special to me, though he wasn’t the type of special where I wanted to shower him with hugs and kisses and where I wanted to hold hands with him under the full moon sky and dance in the pouring rain. No. Dino was the type of boy I was trying to save from himself.

Dino, similar to myself, was a child of divorce. Dino, similar to myself, had a brother who had been lost to the snow; but unlike me, his life was far more crooked, you could even say his life was broken while mine was just bent.

Like I had said before, Dino was a child of divorce, his dad lived abroad and his mother was a raging alcoholic who would disappear for weeks on end. His grandparents took care of him and his grandma was his greatest supporter. One day his only brother was found lying dead in the gutter, overdosed on heroin. His hero, much like mine, had died; but unlike me, his was a physical death. A year later, his greatest support also passed away, and another year later, his second grandpa also left. so he was now left with his deadbeat mom, a dad who didn’t care about him and a grandparent who taught him how to play the guitar.

The guitar and the music were his escape to reality, yet it wasn’t the only. He found himself in the world of drugs and alcohol and he now was more depressed than ever. So he came to me.

We sat down one day before practice and he started off slow, telling me how shit had hit the fan from one day to another. I ended up telling him about my brother's death. He was the second person I ever told.

Dino was obsessed with women and getting pretty girls, and when he had a crush on someone, all he’d do was talk about other girls to them (maybe he was trying to make them jealous). Dino was obsessed with snorting snow and putting out cigarette buds on his arms and on his back. Dino was obsessed with letting people know he hadn’t slept a wink throughout the entirety of the night. Dino was obsessed with making people feel bad for him.

At parties, it became my unsaid responsibility to keep an eye out for him, to make sure he didn’t get blackout drunk and to make sure he didn’t swallow any of the funny looking pills he kept in his pocket. If i see any on his hands, i’d take them and turn them into snow on the ground, deeming them useless (unless he wanted to get down on the floor and take a wide sniff of the powder mixed with gravel, which i’m sure he would’ve done). On a hazy Wednesday night, Dino called me at about 11:15pm, claiming he was overdosed on some amphetamine and that some of the friends he’d hung out with had convinced him to do so. I hung up on him at 2:30am. He never once said thank you or I’m sorry. He never asked how I was doing either. Ever. My sorrow for him grew so much that once, for the day of the dead, he asked me to accompany him to visit his grandma's grave. I didn’t want to go but I went. I drove us there. That day he cried on me and laid on my lap and shoulder while I drew circles on his back trying to comfort him. I was uncomfortable; He was drugged. He ended up passing out on the car ride back.

Dino developed a crush on me but I didn’t reciprocate the feelings (I was flattered needless to say). He’d tell me all the time how he liked this other girl and how once when visiting his father abroad, he’d had some steamy steamy sex with some older, life life-guard girl he’d met. I never believed a second of it. He was tall and slinky and scrawny and he quite literally had three hairs growing opposite to each other in his chin; his eyes were sunken down and his hair had never before been trimmed in his life. Dino was not a very good looking boy. If he was, maybe I would’ve considered giving him a shot.

I started growing tired of this. He wasn’t a child, he wasn’t related to me in any way, he wasn’t even my boyfriend for me to be taking such care of him. He was my friend but it felt like I was being treated as his nanny. One day I told him I was tired of hearing him complain, and told him he had to get his act together. He never talked to me about his problems again, in fact, we drifted apart.

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

Hair is SUCH a touchy subject for me as a trans man.

As a child, presenting female, I had SUPER long hair (I'm talking down past my butt long), and I went to kindergarten like that. My first day there, THE FIRST FUCKIN DAY OF SCHOOL IN MY LIFE, girls poked at me for having long hair and told me I need to cut it.

After a year of this incessant bullying, going into 1st grade, I gave into the constant pressure, and went ahead. I got my hair cut short. My mother took me to a barber and we donated my hair, which the barber said this was the longest she'd ever cut before from somebody. We brought it up to my chin, and I went home, and I just felt... wrong. I didn't feel like me. The entire time I was in the barber chair, I remember feeling overwhelmed with sadness, regret, and sorrow. It was like cutting away my identity.

When I entered the class, some girls who knew me from the previous year were there. One told me she liked that I took her advice and cut my hair. I felt disgusted beyond measure at this. It was her fault, and all the other girls' faults, that I did this. I didn't want to! But they made me!!

As time went on, I let my hair regrow, and I found I liked that a lot. The emo scene was big during this time, and I was REALLY into Breaking Benjamin, Linkin Park, Avenged Sevenfold, and so on. I went to the barber during my 5th grade year, and got my hair trimmed of dead ends, then styled with a long swath going over one eye.

The next day I entered class like this, my teacher was sitting in the reading chair as she read a book to the class aloud, all of us students gathered around together, and she stopped in the middle of reading to say I had to remove the hair from my eyes. I told her I liked it this way, but she argued saying she didn't, and that I had to pin my hair back or get detention. I let my hairstyle go naturally back to normal after this, not keeping it in front of my face, because apparently that was wrong!! I only got to wear it like I wanted for a few hours of my life. Not even a day. All because the person I spent most of my time around and who dictated what I could and could not do for that entire time, said she did not personally approve of this.

That summer, my grandma had come over and spoken to my mother, and my grandma made a comment to her about how my hair was so long, but quiet enough that she tried to make it so I couldn't hear. She said it looked good, but I was growing up, and to get a job I'd need to cut it short. I heard all of what she said, and my heart fucking broke on site. I never said anything about this to her, or to my mother, I just let it roll away, or at least tried to. I never could, though.

6th grade, I was playing on the rocky path by the basketball courts, just messing with random stones. A band of girls came up to me and asked me why I didn't style my hair at all. They pressured me and said I should pull it back in a hair tie, a braid, a bun, something at all. I told them it was none of their business and they needed to back off. All the girls turned away and left me.

During 7th grade, I enjoyed the look of dyeing a single streak in my hair. So I bleached out one streak and dyed it blue, and went into school the next day as such.

That lunch, a ton of girls came up to me and said I had "Jade" hair (like the character from Nickelodeon show Victorious). Word was quickly passing to all students in the lunchroom, and all knew me as such. I was already given unwillingly the rep of being the depressed silent emo kid who dressed in all black and listened to metal music instead of fawning over the latest Justin Bieber or Taylor Swift album with the girls. This was a target point of bullying by all students, and dyeing my hair only furthered my reputation as such by aligning me with Jade, an emo teen with violent obsessions and a bad reputation with the law (honestly she was such a badass character, played by even more badass of an actress, and I totally admire Liz to this day!!). But not feeling that way then as a child, I was so lost at what to do.

During high school, my hair was long enough to reach past my butt once again. I loved it!!! It was epic!!!! By this time, I was DEEP in the European metal scene, listening to Turisas, Amon Amarth, Rhapsody of Fire, DragonForce, Blind Guardian, and the likes. I looked at the photos of these bands, and a good majority of the men all had super long hair like mine. It comforted me. Especially as the question that bugged me all my life was finally reaching an answer. That question: what is my gender?

When I came out to myself, I was genderfluid at first. I told a friend this, and she said, "Well why don't you do something to your hair then?" She explained that cutting it would let people somehow magically, automatically know I was genderfluid. I ignored her, and she and I parted ways at the end of that school year.

Eventually it was time for me to start job hunting. Every time I got an interview lined up, my father FORCED ME to tie my hair back, or he would not drive me to my interview period. He said to me my hair being down, despite the fact that I washed it every other day, combed and brushed it entirely free of knots and snags at least once every day, and it genuinely being beautiful, looked sloppy in his eyes. Long hair regardless of how well taken care of was sloppy. Nobody would hire an employee with sloppy hair.

Soon enough, I came out as myself. A man. I loved me. But my boss, she ALWAYS pressured me to cut my hair. Every week she took me aside and said that I couldn't complain about customers making fun of me and calling me a freak since I looked very freakish with long hair and a beard. She permitted the customers, by not intervening, to just mock me and take unsolicited pictures of me during work, and so on. She pressured me to cut my hair short repeatedly for years if I wanted a change.

I eventually left that place after working 3 years, and I got my own car. When looking for more jobs, my father would still text me before I had an interview, saying he was just reminding me to put my long hair up because otherwise it's sloppy and I won't get hired. It got to the point I didn't tell him if or when I had interviews at all, and I eventually went to one with my hair down, dressed in an ironed out plain black button-down dress shirt, black slacks, dress shoes, and acted cordially and politely, carried myself professionally, and I got hired on the spot after absolutely WOWING the manager!

There, the store I was working at, sold tons of hair dye. I thought back to when I had last dyed my hair, in 7th grade, and I was called "Jade" for it and mocked. But I was around 20 by this time. I knew Jade was a totally badass character, and I admired her. But even more, by this time, the show for "The Witcher" was gaining major popularity. I'd fallen in love with Geralt when I discovered the videogame series, and I knew I wanted to be like him. So soon enough, I went ahead and dyed all my hair silver. And I LOVED it!!!

Eventually, though, I bleached and redyed my hair silver a few times too many (be careful how you handle dye and bleach kiddos!! Do your research, test your methods on small portions of your hair to see how it handles these things and how you can care for your dyed hair best!!). I decided it was time to let it grow out naturally.

But with that decision, I made another: I wanted trim the sides of my head so it would be easier to care for my hair as it grew out naturally, and so I'd look kinda like Ragnar Lothbrok from History's "Vikings".

With my own money, I went after a day of college and got my desired haircut!! I had never been under a buzzer for hair before, just tattoos. I wasn't sure what to expect, and I had a panic attack as I waited for the cutting to begin, but the barber was super chill and great!! I gave him a nice $10 tip for a $30 haircut.

My back hair was still long, SUPER long, but the sides were shaved. I looked VERY masculine, but I also looked like ME. I appeared to myself as I wanted to, not because someone pressured me into styling or cutting my hair a specific way. I made my own choice on my own terms, and I was happy. I was content. For the first time ever, I liked what I had in store for my hair, and I was proud as fuck!!!

About a week after that, I remember I went to a Hammerfall concert, and I was absolutely over the moon with how I was looking!!! I looked like a man, nobody misgendered me at all the entire night (though I got carded at the entry because I didn't look over 21). But finally, I was myself, on my terms, because I had my hair the way I wanted it to be.

Since then, I've kept this hairstyle, and let my hair grow even longer than it was. It's currently been trimmed away over time to get rid of broken and frayed ends that were dyed ages ago, so it's only down past the half way point of my back, and is roughly 14 inches from the neck down. I plan to let it grow for the rest of my life, and just cut away what breaks as it breaks.

Anyone who knows me, they know I'm the most masculine dudebro ever, down to wearing cargo shorts and slide sandals in summer. I roughhouse with my bros, I'm a physically beefy and strong dude who all my family and friends know me for my strength, I drink mead, and I blast metal music as I drive down the highway with my windows open inevitably on my way to another concert. I call myself hypermasc, and I both look and am perceived the part.

But nonetheless, most of my hair is long. I keep it long. I love it long. I style it how I want after a lifetime spent with folks pressuring me to do what THEY wanted me to do with it, instead of letting ME do what I wanted. To every person who isn't me, my hair is wrong. They think I have to do this or that to it, it has to be styled a specific way, it needs to be a certain length, whatever.

I don't give a fuck.

My hair is MY HAIR!!!! Not a soul can control me, dictate what I do with it, other than myself. "Oh, but nobody likes hair that-" Shut up, fuck off, go sit your ass down and don't say a word to anyone. Is this your body? Is this your hair? No? Then why are you telling me how to keep it, how to be a man, and to make it satisfactory to you specifically? I am a man no matter how you feel about me. And I look the part, long hair or not.

I'm so tired of seeing transmasc's suffering downplayed

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Grabbing Smoke

As much time as Sam spent with her best friends, sometimes she enjoyed a little bit of time alone.

Tucker was helping his mother bake cookies for some kind of fundraiser for the hospital, and Danny was busy visiting Pandora for fighting lessons. Apparently they were using swords today.

As fun as it sounded, Sam opted to stay behind, it had been a while since she'd been down to the park to feed the ducks. She didn't get quiet moments like that very often any more.

There was an uncharacteristic skip to her gait as she walked to the park, a canvas tote bag swinging from her arm.

Living in Amity Park, and especially hanging around with Danny, gave her an eerie sense to when something was amiss. Nothing quite like Danny's ghost sense, but she'd learned to detect a particular chill to the air, a prickling at the back of her neck. It could easily be mistaken for a chilly breeze, but Sam knew better. The crunch of gravel under Sam's boots was the only sound permeating the still air, not even the trees were rustling.

She continued her walk through the park, past the wishing fountain and through a trail where the trees grew slightly more dense.

The trail opened up to a large pond, it wasn't anything especially picturesque, the reeds were a little overgrown, the ground was muddy, but there were a few simple weather worn benches by the path that looped around the water.

Sam took a seat, pulling out a bag of frozen peas. She opened it, tipped a few into her hand and tossed them into the water.

The ducks immediately sped across the pond toward her, fighting for the peas that the turtles hadn't already gotten to.

Instead of grabbing another handful, she held the bag out to the empty seat to her left, waiting for a moment before shaking the bag impatiently.

A green hand slipped into the bag, pulling out a handful of peas before tossing them into the water.

"How'd you know I was here?" Kitty asked, now sitting visibly on the other end of the bench as Sam poured out more peas for both of them.

"I have my ways." Sam smirked. "What I want to know is why you've been following me all week."

"You knew for that long and you didn't say nothin'?" Kitty huffed. "Damn, I gotta up my game."

A duck waddled up and nibbled on her boot.

"Alright alright, ya hungry little doofus." Kitty lowered a hand full of peas and cooed as the duck happily ate from her palm. "Aww these guys aren't shy at all, do you come here a lot?"

"When I can." Sam tossed a few more peas into the water for the turtles. "So why are you following me?"

Kitty sat back and pressed her lips together, thinking.

"Look it's just... I don't remember much from when I was livin', you know? It's all sorta grey and fuzzy, I can't remember what anyone looked like, except Johnny." she tossed some peas to a smaller duck at the back of the group. "But as soon as I showed up here in town and I saw your face, I thought I felt... I dunno, somethin'. Like I'd seen you before, or maybe you just reminded me of someone, but I can't remember who, it's like grabbing smoke."

She lobbed a few peas a little harder than was necessary at the water. The turtles sucked them up greedily.

"So you've just been following me hoping you might remember something else?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Kitty sighed. "But it's not working."

Sam swung her foot idly between a pair of scuffling ducks, splitting them up before tossing out some more peas.

"Maybe I'm related to someone you knew. Where did you grow up?"

Kitty frowned down at the water.

"I... I don't know." she said, deflating somewhat. "I didn't even realise I forgot that."

Sam couldn't help but feel for her, Danny had told her that ghosts would often forget things from their past, especially once they'd been dead for longer than they'd been alive. Somehow she had never really considered how terrifying that must be.

"You know..." Sam started carefully. "I could show you some old family photos. Maybe you'll recognise someone?"

Kitty looked up, eyes shining brightly.

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Why not?" Sam shrugged. "If you were here to cause trouble you would have done it by now."

"Aw, I never thought you'd wanna do something like that for me." said Kitty, smiling brightly. "You always seemed like such a bitch."

Sam laughed.

"If you'd spent a week being someone that wasn't Paulina, I would probably have seemed like less of a bitch."

"So you guys are big rivals or somethin'?" Kitty asked, grabbing some more peas and giggling as three ducks tried to eat from her hand at once.

"It's more that we have... conflicting ideologies. She thinks that appearances and reputation are the most important things in life, just like my parents." Sam lobbed some more peas into the water, they both watched them disappear as the turtles quickly snapped them up. "It's shallow and stupid, and I don't get why they have to push that shit on everyone. I don't care what people think, I just want to be whoever the hell I wanna be without having to fight for it all the time."

Kitty's face turned contemplative as she tapped her nails on the back of the bench.

"I think... I was like that." she said, slowly. "I wanted to feel fun and exciting, but my parents..."

She trailed off, frowning.

"My parents... I didn't like them. They didn't like me bein' the way I was, I can't really remember why."

Sam emptied out the last of the peas and scattered them over the ground, she scrunched up the empty packet and shoved it back into her tote bag.

"You know, if we went to school together we would probably have gotten along." said Sam as she stood up, gesturing toward the path. "Let's go check out those photos."

Instead of floating invisibly behind, Kitty walked by Sam's side as they headed back to her house. She idly waved at people as they drove past, grinning when someone stared a little too long and almost ran a red light.

"You know, it's nice bein' able to walk around in the day." Kitty said, skipping a little. "Wish I could do it more often."

"What's stopping you?"

"What do you think?" Kitty's lip pulled up in disgust. "Any time I show up your dumb friend sucks me up in his stupid thermos. Only reason I can walk around right now is because I got you as my get out of jail free card."

"Danny doesn't care if you just want to walk around." Sam scoffed. "He lets ghosts wander around town all the time, he only gets involved when you start breaking things."

"Uggghhh but just walking around is so boring." Kitty pouted. "I mean yeah it's nice and I like it but it gets old real quick."

"Then you'll have to get used to getting tossed back in the ghost zone. Do not pass go, do not collect $200."

"Don't you ever get sick of his goody goody attitude?" Kitty asked. "I mean you and I aren't so different right? You're all about the rebel gig, don't you ever feel like keyin' some asshole's car, or takin' a baseball bat to some mail boxes?"

"Only if they deserve it." said Sam with a smirk. "But I feel like you aren't especially picky about whose stuff you're breaking."

They approached the door to the Manson mansion, Sam hopped up the steps and stuck the key in the lock. She touched the mezuzah on the doorpost without a second thought before opening the door and standing aside to invite Kitty in.

The ghost stared up at her warily.

"I can't get past it."

"Past what?" Sam asked.

"The mezuzah, it keeps me out."

"What?" Sam frowned. "It hasn't stopped other ghosts from getting in."

"Well it stops me." Kitty insisted. "I think it's got somethin' to do with what we believed in when we were alive. I haven't got a problem with churches but when Johnny tried to ride his bike through one he couldn't get in. His mom raised him Catholic, he says he doesn't believe in any of that stuff, but I think he still does, deep down."

"So does that mean you were Jewish?" Sam asked, smiling curiously.

"I AM Jewish." Kitty crossed her arms. "Bein' a ghost hasn't changed that, it just... means that we got a few things a little wrong."

Sam thought about that for a moment, before stepping aside and gesturing toward the door again.

"Well, if you've been invited and you're not going to cause any trouble, then I don't see why you shouldn't be able to come in."

Kitty climbed the steps slowly, fingers reaching out and cautiously brushing over the mezuzah, she didn't feel anything unusual, no zap or burn or pain. She took a step through the doorway and passed the threshold without issue, no invisible force or barrier like the last time she tried to follow Sam inside.

"Well, what do you know." she said, grinning.

Sam lead her into a large, open planned kitchen and dining area, the tiles were bright white save for the specks of mud Sam's boots tracked through the room. The decor was minimalist, the atmosphere bland and sterile, she could smell some kind of citrus surface cleaner.

The back wall was all windows, leading to a patio surrounded by perfectly trimmed grass. As they approached, Sam turned, heading towards a door to their right.

The next room felt a lot more friendly, it was full of bookshelves and red tones. The lounges looked soft and inviting, a fireplace sat cold and empty against the back wall, but Kitty didn't have to try hard to imagine it roaring to life, filling the room with its warm glow.

"This is basically my Grandma's part of the house." Sam informed her, voice low. "Her bedroom is just through there, she's usually napping around this time of day so try not to make too much noise."

Kitty slipped off her jacket and laid it over the back of the lounge, already feeling at home in the cosy little room. She looked over the books as Sam fussed around some kind of large ornate chest.

"Here it is." She hefted a large photo album from the chest, carefully closing and latching it again. "Let's see if you recognise anyone in here."

Kitty sat down beside Sam as she opened up the pristine book, the outer cover was beige with the name Manson inscribed in golden cursive on the front. The first page was full of old faded photos, in greyscale or sepia tones.

"Ugh, I'm not that old." said Kitty, flicking ahead a few pages.

The pictures were colourful now, but still grainy, there was a young blonde boy in seventies style jeans leaning casually against a Chevrolet.

"Wait hold up," Kitty pointed at the boy. "Him, I feel like I've seen him before."

"That's my dad." said Sam, surprised. "His name is Jeremy, did you know him?"

Kitty hummed a little, gently tracing a finger over the picture.

"Jeremy... Jeremy, I'm not sure," she frowned. "But he definitely looks familiar."

They continued through the book, when suddenly Kitty slapped her hand down roughly on a photo of a pair of young women.

"Her! I know her! She was a mega bitch!"

"Shhh keep it down." Sam hissed.

"Sorry," Kitty pointed to the blonde girl in the photo. "That one! I don't know how I knew her, but I definitely knew her. She was a total brat."

Sam slipped the photo out of its sleeve and read the neat cursive on the back.

"This is... my Aunt Caroline, in 1985. She's my dad's sister." Sam looked up at Kitty, amused. "I can't believe you had beef with my family."

"Your family are snobs." Kitty sniffed. "Carrie was such a ditz, she thought she was sooo bitchin' because her daddy bought her a Mercedes."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Sam grimaced. "Did you guys go to school together or something?"

"Maybe..." Kitty took the photo from Sam's hand, staring intently. "I'm pretty sure I skipped school a lot, I hated it there. It was a private school, we had to wear uniforms, barf."

"I would never have guessed you were a private school kid." Sam shook her head. "But most people would say that about me so it's not like I can judge."

"You went to private school?" Kitty asked, "How'd you end up in that Casper High dump?"

"Got myself expelled." said Sam, voice thick with pride. "Elementary, middle and high school, got kicked out of all three."

"Damn, you're good."

Sam grinned, slipping the photo back in its sleeve and continuing to the next page.

Kitty pointed to a few other photos, remarking on their familiarity, but not quite able to grasp how she knew them, the memories only flickered in her periphery.

"Wait," Kitty whispered, fingers brushing over a polaroid containing three people. "This is..."

The picture looked as though it were taken at some kind of party, a man and a woman faced the camera, each with a glass of champagne raised in their hands. The woman's other hand rested on the shoulder of a teenage girl with auburn hair, pulled into a tidy braid. She stared glumly at the camera.

"That's Katherine." Sam said, pointing to the girl. "She was my dad's cousin, but she got hit by a car when she was-"

Sam paused, looking over at Kitty's wide eyes and then back to the photo.

"Noooo way." Sam pulled the photo out of the sleeve. "Is this you?"

Kitty took the photo in trembling hands.

"I... I forgot I used to look like that." she fiddled with a lock of her green, teased hair. "I remember this party, I didn't want to go but mom and dad threatened to take away all my records and cassettes if I didn't."

Sam stared at Kitty, mouth agape.

"You're Car Crash Katherine?! My dad talks about you all the time! He always told me about the shit you used to get up to, he'd tell me that any kind of 'rebellious behaviour' was a slippery slope to 'dying on the back of some delinquent's motorcycle'." Sam put a hand on Kitty's shoulder. "You were my bad influence role model."

Kitty's red eyes shone with tears, photo still in hand, she wrapped her arms around Sam.

"This is majorly wicked! My legacy lives on! Corrupting the youth from beyond the grave!" Kitty laughed. "My parents would go totally mental."

She stopped laughing, her face turning forlorn as she drew back from Sam and stared down at the picture.

"Are they still alive?" she asked, a tremble in her voice.

"Yeah..." said Sam. "They live in a retirement home in Florida. They don't come around very often."

Kitty traced a finger over their faces.

"I wonder if they miss me." she said quietly. "Or if they were glad to be rid of the family embarrassment."

Sam didn't answer, she had wondered the same thing herself, if her parents would even care if she died. They hadn't given her a lot of reason to think they would.

She rested a sympathetic hand on Kitty's arm.

"Oh, you have a friend over bubbeleh?" a croaky voice spoke from the bedroom doorway.

Sam and Kitty both turned to see Ida Manson shuffling into the room, cleaning her glasses with her sleeve.

"Sorry Grandma, we didn't mean to be too loud." Sam apologised. "This is my... um, friend, Kitty. Kitty this is my Grandma Ida-"

"Ida?!" Kitty shot to her feet, staring in shock at the old woman. "Aunt Ida?!"

Ida squinted at Kitty, before quickly setting her glasses back on her face.

"Well as I live and breath, is that you Kathy?"

"Oh my god this is getting super weird." Sam whispered.

Kitty leapt over the ottoman to wrap Ida up in a tight hug, the old woman was surprised for a moment, but held her warmly in return.

"It's me Aunt Ida! Not really living or breathing but it's me!" Kitty laughed breathlessly.

"Oh my goodness, when all the ghosts started showing up all over town I wondered if I would ever see someone I knew." She rubbed comforting circles on Kitty's back as the ghost choked on a few sobs. "It's good to see you again Kathy."

Ida pulled away and wiped a tear from Kitty's face.

"And I'm so glad you aren't stuck wearing what your parents buried you in."

Kitty couldn't help but laugh through her tears.

"Let me guess, it was that putrid blue dress, wasn't it?"

"The dress wasn't nearly as bad as what they did to your hair." Ida snickered, patting Kitty's hand. "It had little ribbons in it and everything."

"I almost forgot you." Kitty placed her palm gently against Ida's face. "You were the only one in the family who ever loved me for being me, and I almost forgot you. I'm so sorry, I should have come to find you sooner but I just-"

"Shhhh, it's okay bubbeleh." Ida grasped her hand tight. "I think being dead is a pretty good excuse for forgetting a few things."

Sam stood beside the lounge, watching the two in shock, she wasn't entirely certain whether or not to intrude. Whatever she had been expecting to discover with Kitty today, it certainly hadn't been this.

Though in hindsight, it did explain Kitty's familiarity with Sam, people always said she had taken after her Grandma.

Ida let go of Kitty and hobbled over to the photo album still sitting on the lounge.

"Oh you don't want to look at that album." she said, as she shoved it onto the coffee table. She wandered to the other side of the room and began rummaging around in a small cupboard. "You want this one."

She pulled out a book with well worn, peeling edges. Pieces of the plastic sleeves had cracked off and crumbled away. It was old, and weatherbeaten, it was obvious that Ida had looked through it many many times.

"Here we go." she sat down in the middle of the lounge, gesturing for the two girls to come sit beside her. "These are the forbidden photos."

She opened the pages, the photos inside were entirely different from the 'official' album, there were no perfectly poised, prim and proper photos of people in nice, presentable clothes. They were all candid shots, people in the middle of eating or laughing, some were stumbling around blind drunk, a few were smoking joints. There were pictures from parties and protest rallies, in backyards and drive ins.

There was a picture of Jeremy as a young boy, grinning with one of his front teeth missing and grass in his hair.

"Only in this family would losing your baby teeth make a photo 'unsavoury'." Ida grizzled as she continued through the album. "I saved so many pictures that my husband would have thrown out otherwise."

"Ugh, Uncle Peter was such a prude, he wouldn't even let me in the house if I didn't have my shoulders covered up." Kitty rolled her eyes.

"He used to be so much more relaxed when we were young." Ida sighed. "He changed when he inherited his father's business, he forgot how to have fun."

A few pages later Kitty squealed in excitement.

"Oh my god! That's Frankie! She was my best friend, we used to do everything together!"

The Kitty in the photo looked far more like the Kitty Sam knew. Her hair was teased up, and she was wearing a crop top and a miniskirt. The other girl, Frankie, had short curled hair and a leather jacket. They each had an arm around the others' shoulder and grinned wildly.

"I love this one." Ida smiled as she pulled the picture out of the sleeve. "That was the night I gave you a lift to that concert."

"Oh that show was sooo good! I got my nose pierced there! It got so infected, Mom grounded me for a month." Kitty laughed.

"Man, and I thought I was cool for skipping school to go see Circus Gothica." Sam grinned. "I'm gonna have to come home with a tattoo next time."

"I can't believe I forgot about Frankie, I can't believe I forgot about all of this." Kitty held the photo close to her chest, a few tears running down her face. "I'm so glad it's not gone for good."

She kept the photo in hand as they looked through the rest of the album. There were many pictures of Ida, all of them with other people of all walks of life.

"Oh this was when you took us to that pride parade!" Kitty smiled. "You made Frankie so happy, and you knew a lot of the drag queens there, like a LOT."

"Grandma took me to a drag show when I was 10," said Sam. "Even took me backstage to meet them all, my parents thought we went to the theatre to see Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh I have photos from that." Ida flipped through the pages, getting closer to the end of the album. "Here we are, oh Evelyn just LOVED you."

Sam looked at the picture of Evelyn, frowning slightly.

"Oh weird, she kinda looks like Mr Lancer's sister, he keeps her photo on his desk..." Sam paused as she processed what she just said. "That's not his sister is it?"

"You probably shouldn't bring it up." said Ida gently. "Teachers can get in trouble for associating with this sort of thing."

"That's so bogus!" Kitty cried. "I really thought this kinda stuff would be better in the future!"

"It is," Ida assured her. "But we're a long way from perfect."

Ida flipped back through the album, searching for more pictures of Kitty and Frankie. There were a good few of them, each one Ida pulled out and passed over for Kitty to look at and hold onto.

"Oh woah, is that Johnny?" Sam pointed to a picture of Kitty sitting on the back of a motorcycle with a blonde boy. "He looks exactly the same, just a little less pale."

"Oh, did Johnny come back as a ghost too?" Ida asked.

"Yeah! We've been together all this time, in sickness and in death." Kitty beamed. "Mom and dad blamed him for everything I did, even if he wasn't around when I did it. They said him and Frankie were 'corrupting' me."

She rolled her eyes.

"I bet they blamed him for my death too. They'd be so mad if they knew we were still together."

"Just goes to show they had no chance of keeping you two apart." Ida said. "Not even death could do that."

Kitty held the photo tight in both hands, her shoulders began to shake slightly.

"It was my fault you know." she said with a trembling little giggle. "Funny huh? My parents always blamed him for everything, but in the end it was my fault we got hit. We were havin' a fight over somethin' stupid and I distracted him-"

Ida wrapped an arm around Kitty, patting her head comfortingly as she laid it against the old woman's shoulder.

"I think you're being too hard on yourself bubbeleh." Ida whispered gently into her hair. "It was raining, the truck that hit you was running a red light, the driver was charged for both your deaths. Even if you did distract him, you weren't the only card at play that night."

She gave Kitty a light shake.

"And don't think I didn't see the way Johnny used to drive that thing, he was reckless. I have no doubt that he wasn't paying as much attention as he should have been." She placed a kiss on the girl's forehead and squeezed her tight. "It's not fair to hold all of that responsibility on yourself, even if you both did everything right, that truck still would have run that red light, it still would have been raining. It was just pure rotten luck."

Sam had never heard a ghost talk about their death before, even Danny didn't like talking about his accident, and asking about it was incredibly taboo. Sam had been pushing her luck earlier just by mentioning the car crash.

It said a lot about Kitty's love for Ida that she chose to open up about it. Sam couldn't say she was surprised, her Grandma had always been like that. Never anything but an endless well of love and support, and the occasional kick in the pants if you needed it.

"Johnny's always had rotten luck." Kitty sniffed. "Follows him like a shadow."

"Literally." Sam snorted.

After a few more moments, Ida pulled herself away from Kitty, she got up and began rooting through the cupboards, muttering to herself.

"Aha, here it is."

She brought over an empty photo album, it was roughly the size of a small pocketbook, containing only one photo sleeve per page.

"I meant to fill this with photos for Sam to keep." Ida admitted as she shuffled back over to the girls. "But I don't think she'll mind donating it to a good cause."

She winked at Sam, who nodded back.

"Here," Ida pressed the little album into Kitty's hands. "Memories are a fickle thing, but photos are forever."

"I can't take these!" Kitty insisted, pushing the album back. "They're your memories too!"

"Oh my god you're both so old." Sam laughed, "Dad has a printer/scanner. I can make copies."

As Sam took the polaroids to her dad's office, Ida and Kitty pored over the rest of the album, Kitty picking out more photos to copy. She chose a few of Ida and Sam, and even one of Carrie.

"She was a total loser and I hated her but I don't hate remembering her, you know? I want to remember everything, even the bad stuff."

She took a photo of her parents, just one.

When Sam came back with the last batch of photos, Ida finished slipping them into the little album.

"There's still a few sleeves left." Sam pointed out, holding up her phone with a smile. "We've got room for a couple of family reunion pics."

The two girls squished up against Ida as Sam snapped as many shots as she could. Ones where they smiled, ones where they laughed, ones where they laid haphazardly across the lounge together.

Then Sam took a few candids of just Kitty and Ida, as they looked through the new album they'd just made together. Capturing Kitty laughing at something as Ida looked at her with a soft, loving smile.

Kitty clutched the album to her chest as she gave Ida a long, drawn out hug.

"Thank you so much." she said, her voice thick with gratitude. "It's like I can see my life in colour again."

She left the house with the assurance that she would always be welcome back, at any time, and a promise that she would always be looking out for her 'new favourite cousin'.

Sam flicked through the photos she took on her phone, she would have to make sure to have copies printed by the time Kitty returned to visit.

She knew Kitty coming over regularly was going to make things complicated, her apparent newfound protectiveness over Sam could potentially backfire in many spectacular ways, she was petty and troublesome when in the right mood.

But then again, so was Ida, and so was Sam.

At least she had better things to do now than beat up strangers' mail boxes, Danny was certainly going to be glad to hear that.

[marmorafarms]

Gridball Jerseys and Cigarettes, Chapter 2

Hey guys, and welcome to the second chapter of my Sebastian x Alex fic! So glad you're here reading it! The chapter list is below, so you can read from the beginning if you're just joining!

Ch. 1

Summary: Alex has had a crush on Sebastian ever since they were kids. Their friendship fell apart, but Alex is determined to fix it. Will their relationship work? Or is it doomed to fail due to Alex's Grandfather's strict views?

Word count: 2,423 words

Warnings: cigarette use, alcohol consumption

Chapter Rating: T for Teen

"What are those?" Alex asked, as his blue-haired friend skidded to a halt in front of him. She had quite literally run over to him with what looked like pieces of paper in her hand. He tossed his gridball in the air a few times while he waited for a reply.

"Tickets!" Emily said with a toothy grin. "To see Goblin Destroyer!"

"Who?" Alex asked, face scrunching in concentration. "Oh! Sebastian's band!"

Emily rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you forgot their name," she said and thrust one of the tickets at him. Alex took it and stared.

"We've never had to have tickets before," he said, looking at Emily quizzically. Goblin Destroyer had played plenty of times down on the beach. Gus would serve drinks, and everyone would gather around and listen to them play. It was always a guaranteed good time.

"That's because they only played in Pelican Town. But this time, they landed a gig in Zuzu City!" Emily clapped her hands in excitement.

"In Zuzu City?" Alex gasped, eyes wide. "That's a big deal!"

"Sure is!" Emily said. "So you're going, right? I bought that ticket for you."

Alex bit his lip. It would be great to see Sebastian play. They hadn't crossed paths since the smoke blowing incident (Emily said it was called "shotgunning") and Alex was having a difficult time trying to figure out how to casually meet up with him.

Maybe they could meet up after the concert. He could compliment Sebastian on his playing. That could lead to an actual conversation, right?

"I dunno…I'll have to ask my grandparents…" Alex said nervously.

"It was $90," Emily said, "Per ticket. Non-refundable."

"Oh hey, grandma? Grandpa?" Alex said, putting his hand to his ear like a phone. "You're suddenly okay with me going to the city late at night with no supervision? Amazing! Can't believe it! Good news Emily," he said, putting his hand down, "I can go."

Emily clapped her hands together excitedly. "This is gonna be so much fun! And don't worry about your grandparents, okay? Haley and I came up with a special plan."

Alex frowned. These two sisters were downright dangerous when they put their heads together to come up with a plan. Mischief wasn't something Haley was usually up for, but when Emily planted an idea in her head, things could get intense.

"It's nothing bad!" Emily said quickly. 

"That's what you said when you allowed Léo to modify the Mayor's boxers with your sewing machine!"

"Lucky purple shorts," Emily amended. "And they turned out lovely. That gold trim made them look so fancy!"

"Yeah, but Mayor Lewis was furious!" Alex retorted.

"Well, I'm sure he'll get over it when he has a special guest over who gets to admire them," Emily said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. 

"I hate that you just made me think of the Mayor doing the do with–"

"Did you really just say "doing the do" instead of saying sex?" Emily said with a snort. "Are you twelve?"

"Look, we're way off track!" Alex said, flustered. "Whatever plan you and Haley have cooked up is probably crazy!"

"It isn't though!" Emily insisted. "Haley told you about our parents deciding to ditch us again for Winter Star, right?"

"If by "tell me" you mean slamming my bedroom door open, flopping onto my bed, and screaming into my pillow without stopping for a full 60 seconds…then yes, she told me," Alex said. It had been a very strange experience, but Alex had done his best to comfort her.

"Yeah, she was pretty pissed when they backed out and decided not to come to Pelican Town. So they sent us some "Sorry we're shit parents" gifts. I got a serger, and Haley got a vintage Polaroid camera!" Emily said. Alex waited patiently for her to continue. He wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"So we thought that you could tell your grandparents that you want to get Haley a super special gift for Winter Star! We'll just say it took a while to find the perfect gift. And when they ask to see what you got…you'll show them the Polaroid camera! Nobody in town knows she has it yet!" Emily looked rather pleased with herself, and honestly, Alex thought the plan was a pretty good one.

"Alright," Alex said. "That should work."

“It will work,” Emily said firmly. “Just…make sure to keep the fact that you’re going to the concert on the down low, yeah?”

“Right,” Alex said with a nod. He wouldn’t want someone to accidentally let slip that he was going to a concert. His grandparents meant well, but they were a bit overprotective. Scratch that, very overprotective. He was 23 years old, and they still treated him like he was 16. It was infuriating. Going to the city shouldn’t be an issue. And while they technically couldn’t stop him from going out, his grandfather had locked him out of the house one night when he stayed at the spa until 10 pm.

The day before the concert arrived, and Haley had insisted that instead of meeting by the bus stop, he should meet at her and Emily's house.

"I need to approve your outfit," she had said, looking dead serious. "I can't have you embarrassing Pelican Town by wearing something ridiculous."

So Alex found himself walking into their home, door unlocked as always when Haley knew Alex would be coming over.

"I'm here!" Alex called out.

"Alex!" Haley said happily, emerging from her bedroom. She stopped short and stared at him.

"What?" Alex said nervously.

"What in gay hell," Haley murmured, eyes flicking over him from top to bottom. "You can't wear that."

"What's wrong with my outfit?" Alex asked defensively.

"You absolutely cannot wear a gridball jersey and loose fitting jeans to a rock concert!" Haley said, exasperated. "Emily! Get over here right now!"

Emily walked out of the bathroom and Alex gulped. Okay, maybe he wasn't dressed appropriately. Emily was wearing a tight black tanktop with the words "Hell's Belles" on it. Her tight black jeans had a studded belt through the loops, and her Doc Martens looked fantastic.

"Oh fuck no," Emily said, and Alex crossed his arms, letting out a huff of annoyance.

"I can't change now!" Alex said. "I'll have to just go in this."

"Nope, no, no you won't," Emily said. "Let me grab you something."

Alex laughed. "You're a twig!" he said. "How the hell will I fit into your clothes?"

Emily ignored him, and brought out a pair of skinny jeans that definitely weren't hers, a white shirt, and a leather jacket.

"The jacket and jeans are left over from a fitting I did with Shane," she said. "Though he ended up in something uh…well anyway. The shirt is mine. It's like a dress on me, but it should fit you."

It was tight. No matter how baggy Emily had claimed it was, it left nothing to the imagination when it came to his chest and abs.

"These jeans," he grumbled, coming out of the bathroom, "have almost no space in the crotch! I hate them!"

"Suck it up, you look great!" Haley said. 

"Yes, that's more like it," Emily said approvingly. "Now let's go!"

They raced to the bus stop quickly, hoping that nobody would catch sight of them and rat Alex out. They made it without incident, exhaling in relief when they saw Pam wasn't driving the bus tonight. She wasn't one to tell on anyone, but still. She sometimes had loose lips when she got drunk at the Saloon.

Alex bought the bus tickets, determined to pay for everything. Emily had spent quite a lot of cash on the concert tickets after all. He had tried to pay her back for them, but she refused, saying that if he bought her drinks and food at the concert, she’d consider it repaid.

“Are you sure I look okay?” Alex had said, glancing at Emily as they sat down.

“Have you seen the looks you’re getting?” Emily said with a grin. “Everyone on this bus is checking you out. You look fantastic!”

Alex nodded. He had noticed people looking at him, but was still concerned. He was planning on trying to meet with Sebastian backstage, and he was worried he looked ridiculous.

“Well…okay,” Alex said. The bus ride was a long one, and Alex was relieved when he finally got to get off the bus. He stretched, and then he and Emily made their way to the venue.

They were playing in a large park-like area. Apparently, it was a large space owned by the brewery nearby. This brewery would be providing the food and drink for the concert, and Emily was thrilled at the idea that the beer wouldn’t taste terrible.

“It always tastes like someone pissed in my drink,” she said.

“Maybe they did,” Alex teased, and Emily made a face.

The beer was excellent, and they even managed to score some decent snacks before finding a spot to sit. They had come early enough to where they’d be able to sit nearby the stage. Alex wondered if Sebastian would see him from the stage, but guessed that his friend wouldn’t actually be looking into the audience.

When the opening act came on stage, Emily’s shirt suddenly made a lot more sense. The band was an AC/DC cover band that was made up of all women. They were called “Hells Belles” and apparently Emily was a huge fan.

“They’re amazing, you’ll see!” she said in excitement.

Emily was right, they were amazing. They played each song perfectly, and somehow managed to make them sound better than the originals! Alex clapped and whooped after they finished, and was slightly disappointed to see them go. But those feelings immediately evaporated when Goblin Destroyer came on stage.

Emily giggled at the look on Alex’s face when Sebastian walked out. There was no other way to say it, he looked sexy.

Sebastian was known for his baggy hoodies, but right now? He was wearing practically the opposite, if that was a thing. His shirt was ripped and tight, showing off his well defined arms and…collar bone piercings? Alex didn’t even know that was a thing, but he was so glad it was.

He gulped as he spotted hip piercings, shown off by his low slung skinny jeans. Since when did Sebastian have all these piercings? He knew about the lip, ears, and eyebrow piercings, but the rest? Alex swallowed thickly. Sebastian typically didn’t put his lip and eyebrow jewelry in, but he was wearing it tonight. God, Alex wished he wore them every day. He looked amazing.

“Put your eyes back into your head, you completely missed everything Sam just said!” Emily hissed.

“Oh,” Alex said sheepishly, realizing that she was right. He hadn’t even registered that Sam was speaking at all.

When they began to play, a wide grin split Alex’s face in two. He knew he enjoyed their music, but it was much tamer in Pelican town. But the songs they were playing now were far more intense. The music was louder, and they played like they meant it, none of them worried about how they would be perceived.

And the lyrics were very different. Swear words and sexual innuendos were in practically every song. Jas and Vincent often attended the Pelican Town concerts, so they never played songs like this. Alex was loving it, and really getting into the music. Emily was as well, and they both found themselves dancing and shouting.

Alex noticed Emily dancing with a few people, but he wasn’t sure how to feel when he was approached. Usually, he would be all for it, but he felt weird, dancing with someone when he was here to see the guy he was interested in playing. 

Intermission finally came, and Alex found himself being forcefully dragged to the stage by Emily. He let himself be pulled, but was confused by what she was doing. She had given no explanation, simply grabbing his wrist and running.

“ABIGAIL!” Emily screamed out as the band was making their way offstage. Abigail was the drummer, and stopped when she heard her name. She looked very surprised at someone knowing her by name, and looked into the audience. Surprise was written all over her face when she saw Emily and Alex standing there.

“Holy shit!” Abigail said, looking very happy. “Come over here! Sam and Seb will definitely want to see you guys! Hell, I’m excited to see you guys!”

Alex didn’t think twice about following the two chattering girls backstage, but was suddenly overcome with a wave of fear when he realized exactly what was about to go down. He was about to see his crush, who looked sexy as hell, and was supposed to act natural? Alex didn’t even manage to act natural with his first attempt at conversation with Sebastian, how was he supposed to do so now?

“Hey guys!” Abigail shouted out, “Look who’s here!”

Sam and Sebastian looked over from where they were standing. Since the backstage area was outside, Sebastian had a cigarette, and had just taken a long drag from it before looking over. His eyebrows shot up, looking just as surprised as Abigail had.

Sebastian looked even better close up, and Alex found himself unable to take his eyes off of the man before him. Words died in his throat as Emily began to speak to them. How long was too long to look at someone for? Alex forgot.

“Nice to see you Alex,” Sebastian said in his raspy voice. He gave Alex a small smile, before looking at Emily. “You too, Em,” he said. “Can’t believe you guys are here.”

“You guys should totally have some drinks with us after the show!” Sam said excitedly. “We were just going to celebrate our first totally legit gig with some tequila shots, but just with us three. It’ll be way more fun if you guys join in!”

Emily expressed her interest straight away, but Alex was more hesitant. His eyes flicked to Sebastian, who was looking at him. It was hard to tell what the expression was on his face. That man was hard to read.

“You’re gonna join us, right?” Sebastian finally said.

“Of course!” Alex said, caving. How could he say no to such a pretty face? 

Sebastian smiled once more, and Alex practically melted. Okay, he had to go now. And he found himself pretty excited about it.