#vegan energy bites | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thisismeracing · 8 months ago

Text

Falling (in love) | LH44 (Patreon Exclusive)

read the full piece here

― Pairing: stepdad!lewis x kindergarten teacher!reader (she/her) ― Warning: mentions food and sickness (fever); single!mom reader; family issues; not been proofread yet; 3k words. ― Summary: When your kid found a new friend in his new school, you did not expect that would mean you would find yourself friends too. And sure enough, you weren't expecting to fall for his friend's uncle.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

preview

A lot of things were unexpected that day.

First, the fact that Lewis was late to pick up his niece, but when he got there she wasn’t throwing a tantrum, quite the opposite. When she saw him she saw him, she came running through the school’s entrance with the biggest smile on her face when just earlier that week she made a fuss to go to class every morning – before and after getting there.

The second was the smallest boy who was right behind her. His backpack swung from side to side, while Wendy ran up front turning every few seconds to giggle at him.

And just when Lewis thought those were the only two unexcepted things, you walked out of the door carrying a few books in your hands and a big bag on your shoulder, calling for Wendy and the smallest boy.

“Uncle Lew!!!” His niece screamed before barreling into his legs and hugging him. He chuckled, bending down to kiss her mop of curls. “Have you met Leo?”

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head just as the boy finally reached them.

The kid’s version of a black Jordan and the styled curly hair made Lewis smile, that boy appeared to be around five but was already starring a fashion sense that a few older people hadn’t.

“Leo, you’ll give me a heart attack one of these days. You can’t go out running like this, honey,” your voice carried a serious but sweet tone simultaneously.

Lewis’ eyes found you standing a few feet away, curly hair clipped away from your face by a few strands, a pencil skirt, and a cream blouse. The folder and books in your arms gave him a hint of what you were doing there, and his silent guess turned out to be true when Wendy turned with a toothless grin and introduced you: “This is Miss Yn, our new teacher!” She took a step to stand beside you looking up with a beaming face that reflected yours. “And this is Leonard, her son, my new classmate. They’re new here, can we introduce the city to them like we did with Jackie and Uncle Toto? Also, can we have playdates later? Can we go to the park? Can we–”

****

“Mamma, I don’t wanna eat,” Leo held his hands behind his back giving you his best puppy eyes and you chuckled.

“How about you try a few bites and then go play with Dee, huh?”

“Yeah, champ, you gotta make your body strong so you can run as fast as you can,” Lewis tried, already cutting a sandwich in half for Wendy. “Have you ever tried vegan sandwiches?” He asked and Leo shook his head.

“I don’t like lettuce, mamma does though,” he shared, pointing his small finger at you.

“What do you mean you don’t like lettuce? Lettuce is exactly what makes us run even faster, it gives us tons of energy!”

“It does?” the curly-haired boy asked, hands now on the side of his body and curious eyes watching the food in Lewis’ hands.

“Yeah, I eat it all the time so I can drive my car in endless circles.”

You smiled watching the interaction.

“How about you have a bite? You don’t have to eat it all, just a bite. But I bet you will want to finish it. This one has so many things that make us bigger and stronger.”

“Strong like you?” his big brown eyes now looking at Lewis’ biceps, and you chuckled at your kid's face when the driver curled his arms and flexed his muscles.

“Yeah, strong just like me!”

****

“They truly made a bond in a short time, huh?” You commented.

“Guess we’ll be seeing each other a lot more often,” Lewis bumped your shoulder with his and you smiled. You wouldn’t lie that the prospect of interacting with him more than you did the last week wasn’t a bad thing at all.

“I’m not opposed to that.”

“Neither am I.”

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this lil sneak peek! Make sure to like and reblog if you did *mwah* and PLEASE, LET’S INDULGE IN THIS UNIVERSEEEE BECAUSE I'M ALMOST SURE THIS WILL BECOME A SERIES OF SOME SORT. I sorted a few ideas for "chapters" yet, but I won't be following the chapters format, but rather taking asks requests about them and publishing the blurbs and pieces <3

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘 ▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @thearchieves @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @leclercsluv @graciewrote @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships @is-just-a @love4lando @woozarts @namgification @formulaal @soph1644 @scorpiobleue @skepvids @v1naco @khaylin27 @bernelflo @fakehappy27 @eugene-emt-roe @evie-119 @slutmeoutsworld @chaoticcoffeequeen

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

311 notes · View notes

octuscle · 18 days ago

Text

Spring Break Party Animal

Kristján Egilsson had come from Iceland to Santa Barbara three years ago to study marine biology. He had completed his bachelor's and master's degrees in record time, graduating at the top of his class. Nevertheless, he found it difficult to get a job. Perhaps it was because of his appearance: to call him slim was an understatement. Kristján was a beanpole. And he looked like he was 18. With a bit of blonde hair on his upper lip and the thin, blonde hair that fell on his shoulders. For his fellow students, it was always a wonder how a person who lived in California and spent a lot of time at the beach could stay so pale. Perhaps it was all due to his lifestyle: vegan, feminist, impeccable carbon footprint. And yet: unemployed!

The offer of a research assistant position with the possibility of a doctorate at New College Of Florida in Sarasota was anything but his dream. But still better than returning to Iceland. Kristján found it hard to admit, but somehow he liked the American way of life. The university had promised him a place in a hall of residence for post-graduate students, but had asked him to stay in a motel near the campus for a short time in the meantime. The previous tenant in the hall of residence had apparently been quite a party animal, so the place needed to be redecorated first, the personnel officer had told him with a mischievous wink.

Kristján arrived in Sarasota three weeks before the start of the spring semester. The bus ride had been long and exhausting. But a flight had not been justifiable in view of the CO2 emissions. He had left Atlanta very early this morning and finally arrived after changing buses in Tallahassee and Tampa. He had been on the road for over 70 hours. He was dead tired. The place was quiet. He checked into the somewhat shabby hotel, got into his room and, finally back in a real bed, fell asleep immediately.

His alarm went off at 6:00 a.m. He wanted to go to the beach; he hadn't seen the sea in ages. He would swim, wash off the dirt of the bus ride and then explore the campus. There was no one in the breakfast room yet. The waitress looked at him blankly and said that breakfast was not served until 8:00 a.m. Kristján was starving. He smiled his disarming Scandinavian boy's smile. “I'll see what I can do,” said the waitress, and disappeared into the kitchen. Kristján checked the weather conditions on his cell phone. He wanted to familiarize himself with the currents at the beach. And then he was served a huge portion of scrambled eggs and bacon. “I can't make you anything more, the cook isn't here yet,” said the waitress. Kristján didn't have the energy to argue about vegan nutrition. And he was starving, to be honest. A few bites wouldn't kill him. The scrambled eggs were delicious. He wolfed them down. He asked if he could get a coffee. The waitress brought him a Coke, apologizing that the coffee machine was still off. Kristján downed the 26-ounce bottle of sweet swill almost in one gulp. This was followed by an unparalleled belch. The waitress grinned and said that maybe there was a man in the boy after all. Kristján smiled, feeling both embarrassed and bewildered.

Kristján had spent the whole day by the sea. Near the city, the ecosystem was of course not particularly exciting. But he had gathered a few ideas about how to make simple improvements. Establishing protected zones, artificial reefs, things like that. He wanted to put his ideas on paper. But the mood in the hotel had changed considerably. He had seen the “spring break” posters everywhere. Tonight was the opening party. And now the first guests were arriving, crowding the reception and the lobby, making noise. This could be great. Kristján sighed and went to his room. On his minibar was a note saying “Have a great spring break, the first sixback is on us”. The minibar was stocked with beer.

At some point last night, Kristian had lost the desire to develop his ideas. There had been loud music coming from the pool and he could no longer concentrate, so he had taken a beer from the fridge, drunk it and then fallen into bed. He had ignored the alarm clock today. But there was no breakfast before 08:00 anyway. And when he was in the breakfast room at 08:00, he was still alone. A few students were lying by the pool, snoring. Kristian grabbed some scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages and wolfed down his breakfast. He wanted to finish before the students woke up. The plan for today was to get a bike. He had to be mobile in the city somehow. And he also wanted to explore the city and take a look at the campus. So far, he had only seen it on the internet. He had found a store for second-hand bikes on the internet and got a bargain there. Cool guys there, he had talked to them and got tips for the city. He had only been on campus for a short time; apart from a few construction workers, everything was pretty deserted. At the beach, he had only seen the crowds of people partying there and quickly turned back. Back at the hotel, he was happy that it was relatively quiet. He lay down by the pool. At some point, someone asked him if he wanted a beer. At some point, Kristian got himself a second beer. At some point, the party was also in full swing here by the pool.

Damn, that was one beer too many... at least. Christian threw up mangily in the bathroom. There was a full condom on the floor. He looked in the mirror. He looked like shit! Maybe a shave would help. He just left his moustache. Yes, that was better. Now breakfast, then a nap by the pool, then he'd be fine. Logan, Todd and Chad were already eating breakfast. With their first or second beer. Hey, what better way to have a real man's breakfast. Logan asked if the plan with the tattoo artist at lunchtime was still on. “Sure thing,” said Christian, half the scrambled eggs falling out of his mouth. He'd always wanted a tattoo. The sluts were into that kind of thing! But now he really had to piss. Damn it, he wasn't used to four beers for breakfast Shit, he wasn't going to make it to the toilet. He pissed on a palm tree on the terrace. To the jeers of the other boys. Now another burp. And then off to the sun lounger. A nap and a tan!

As Logan and he rode along the promenade on their motorcycles after the session at the tattooist, they could hardly wait for the evening to arrive. Their cocks were longing to finally be used again. Christian had already gotten hard during the tattooing session. His tattoo artist was also a guy after his own heart. Every now and then he really liked to fuck a tight man's ass. He would never tell the boys. Although... Todd had also sucked his cock before. Without making eye contact, of course. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

Shit, the party the night before had been awesome. The only sensible reason to go to college was really Springbreak! Cris took the last bottle of beer out of the fridge, lit a cigarette and went into the bathroom. His hair looked like shit. But one of the boys had brought long hair clippers. He would be able to trim his mullet for tonight. He trimmed his belly. Shit, Coach was going to give him another lecture when spring trimester started. But the diet of spare ribs, burgers and beer was working. And training would start again in April!

Shit, the trimester would start again in a week. Chris really wasn't a friend of the campus. But without a bachelor's degree, no money from his parents. And without money from his parents, no spring break. And without spring break, no sex. Who the fuck was he kidding? He was one of the hottest guys on campus. He would always have sex. And with the bitch at the other end of the pool. Chris let himself slide into the water. Thank God the water was warm. His hard-on would remain stable until he reached the other side of the pool.

Chris' pic found @boysgettingbigger

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #chubby tf #jockification #jock tf #nerd to jock #ex jock

102 notes · View notes

fattributes · 1 year ago

Text

Food-inspired ask challenge! Send a few numbers, learn something new!

How old were you when you first learned to cook?

What’s your favorite sandwich?

If you drink it, how do you like your tea?

Which of these terms are you most likely to use?: Takeaway, takeout, carryout, to-go, or grab ‘n go

Do you have a favorite restaurant? If yes, what is it?

Do you prefer hot or cold drinks?

Would you rather cook a meal for a crowd or do the dishes afterward?

Do you prefer white, milk, or dark chocolate?

Do you have novelty salt and pepper shakers? If yes, what are they?

What foods do you like to eat when it's hot outside?

If you eat fries, what condiments do you like to dip them in?

What was your favorite food as a child, and do you still enjoy it?

Do you bite into or lick your ice cream?

Would you consider air to be an ingredient in your cooking or baking?

Do you collect silverware, mugs, cups, bowls, or plates?

Is there anything you haven’t had that you’d like to eat someday?

How would you describe your spice tolerance?

What would you bring to eat at a picnic?

Does caffeine wake you up?

Which do you do more of?: Cooking, baking, or grilling

What’s your favorite fruit juice?

Do you meal plan?

What’s your least favorite food?

What food, snacks, or drinks would you most likely bring to a potluck?

How do you distinguish between pasta and noodles?

What foods do you like to eat when it's cold outside?

Do you have a preference for sour, sweet, salty, savory, or dry flavors?

What’s your favorite type of bagel?

What do you eat when you’re feeling sick?

Around what time do you usually have dinner?

Have you ever cooked something you saw or heard about in a video game?

What are the most commonly used seasonings in your cupboard?

What’s your favorite dessert?

Do you have any scars or burn marks on your hands from cooking?

Do you mind when the food on your plate touches?

Which world cuisine are you the most familiar with?

Sweet or savory pies?

Are there any seasonal foods or ingredients that you’re looking forward to?

What eating utensil do you use the most often?

Do you like to toast your bread?

What is your favorite pasta shape?

What’s your favorite fruit-flavored candy?

Have you ever triggered the smoke alarm while you were cooking?

Food carts or sit-down restaurants?

Have you ever broken a microwave?

Do you enjoy salads?

Do you have any food allergies or food intolerances?

Do you drink soda pop? If yes, what's your favorite flavor or brand?

If you had to eat the same food every day for a month, with no variation, what would you choose?

Do you own any cookbooks?

Do you prefer to eat alone or with other people?

Do you cover your mouth with your hand while you're chewing?

Where do you find the majority of your recipes from?

What’s your favorite snack food?

Do you eat in your bed?

Is there anything that isn't edible that you’ve really wanted to eat?

What’s your favorite vegetable?

How often do you order restaurant food to be delivered?

Do you eat fish?

Have you ever dropped a pot or tray of food that you were in the middle of cooking?

Salted or unsalted butter?

Where would you rank your cooking abilities?: Beginner, intermediate, or professional

What luxury kitchen appliance would you like to own the most?

Would you prefer to go to the grocery store or have your groceries delivered?

Do you have a sweet tooth?

If you eat eggs, how do you like them prepared?

What do you call carbonated water?

Do you drink energy drinks?

What’s your favorite pizza order?

How do you feel about raw onions?

How would you describe your everyday diet?

Would you rather sit down in a restaurant for a meal, or have food to-go and eat it at home?

Have you ever taken something you were in the middle of cooking and thrown it into the trash?

Do you consider honey to be vegan-friendly?

What’s your favorite condiment?

What’s a recipe you’re good at that everyone asks you to make?

Do you drink milk?

Brown or white rice?

Do you have any leftovers you need to eat?

Can you make your favorite food?

Do you like melted cheese?

What are your safe or comfort foods?

Are there any foods that give you headaches?

How do you feel about eating insects?

Have you ever worked in food service?

How do you feel about sharing food that's on your or someone else’s plate?

Do you like the taste of raw celery?

When you're feeling thirsty, what do you usually want to drink?

Would you consider yourself an adventurous eater?

Are there any foods, flavors, or ingredients unique to where you live?

#food #text #ask challenge

160 notes · View notes

fullcravings · 9 months ago

Text

Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Energy Bites (V/GF)

156 notes · View notes

vegan-nom-noms · 2 months ago

Text

Vegan Protein Balls Recipes

Birthday Cake Protein Balls

Coconut Coffee Protein Balls

Lemon Bliss Balls

Pumpkin Pecan Balls

Matcha Energy Bites

Raw Gingerbread Bliss Balls

Peanut Butter Protein Balls

Raw Lamington Bliss Balls

Mango Bliss Balls

39 notes · View notes

rollingsins · 2 years ago

Text

all hers, part xvii

summary: The scooby-gang are back together. This time to silence Ghostface. Forever.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder.

word count: 4.4k

a/n: I was screaming, shaking, crying writing this chapter for some unknown reason. Call it writer's block. Sorry for the wait, thanks for all your guys' love and patience!

You wake up to the smell of pancakes.

Tara stirs, a little sleepy as you press a kiss to her neck, leaning down to check her dressing.

“It’s not like your parents to make us breakfast,” She murmurs, sitting up slightly. You were a cereal and toast kind of family. You furrow your brows, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Girls!” Sam’s voice calls up the stairs, “Breakfast is ready.”

Tara’s eyes widen.

“Oh no.”

Sam’s pancakes are made out of buckwheat flour and vegan butter. They’re brown - browner than a pancake should be, and her toppings are a mesh of eggs, avocado and chorizo. Not a raspberry, or blueberry - or any kind of traditional pancake topping in sight.

“Maple syrup isn’t good for you,” Sam assures when you ask for it. Instead, she offers a small bottle of honey, “Here. This is much healthier.”

Tara stares down at her plate, nudging her food suspiciously.

“It’s so nice to have a cook in the house,” Your mother gushes as she digs into her plate, “And this is really gourmet stuff. Our own little Gordan Ramsey.”

Tara swallows, her expression stormy. She picks up a piece of pancake with her fork and sniffs it. Makes a face.

Sam settles into the spot next to you. You take a half-hearted bite.

“How does it taste?” Sam asks, and you swallow, locking eyes with Tara.

“Healthy.”

“Good,” Sam says, sounding pleased with herself, “Tara needs nutrients.”

“Isn’t it nice of your sister to make you breakfast?” You ask Tara pointedly, nudging her foot under the table.

She blinks. Looks at you like she doesn’t want to answer.

You kick her again.

“Really nice, thanks Sam,” Tara mumbles into her plate.

It’s small and half-hearted. But it makes Sam beam.

It’s a Tuesday morning but you’re not in school.

Tara’s still too weak to walk for a prolonged amount of time, and you manage to convince your Dad it’s safer to stay home with Tara and Sam than go to school by yourself.

He and your Mom file out, one by one. He presses a kiss to your forehead. Makes sure you remember to lock the door on his way out.

They’ve been a little more at ease with Sam around, though she’s taken all their nervous energy and increased it tenfold. She spends most of her time checking the locks and cleaning her guns. The leftover is spent in the kitchen making Tara countless healthy snacks, to Tara’s great horror. Your room is filled with barely touched plates of carrot sticks and cucumber straws, tofu balls and seaweed crackers.

Sam is just as obsessive as her sister, though she shows it in a much different way.

Tara grumbles as she shoves another platter of hummus and carrots to your desk, phone pressed to her ear. She’s invited around her friends, and she must catch the look on your face because when she hangs up. She takes you in her arms and presses a long kiss to the side of your head.

“We need them,” She promises, “We need bodies to catch Ghostface.”

“If you say so,” You say, biting your lip.

It seems a little silly to you. Afterall, who’s to say one of them wasn't Ghostface? Between you and Tara, you had managed to kill two of their best friends. It wasn’t far-fetched to imagine they might be a little pissed about it if they knew.

She wraps her arms around your shoulders, presses a light kiss to your lips.

“They’ll be here in twenty,” She says, and so you quiet the thought of Chad and Liv in matching Ghostface masks and abandon Tara to get dressed.

Sam’s in the kitchen when they arrive, making Tara a green smoothie.

She doesn’t see the door open, doesn’t hear the hushed whispers as you shuffle them all upstairs to pile into your tiny bedroom.

Chad makes himself at home, lays back against the bed, one of your cushions in hand.

“Brace yourself,” He says as Tara shuts the door, “Mindy made a power-point.”

“I just thought the suspect list might be a little easier to palate in a visual format.” Mindy says, shooting a glare at her twin. She opens her laptop. Tara rolls her eyes.

“Forget about the suspect list,” She tells Mindy, “What’s the plan? It doesn’t matter who he is, we just need to catch him.”

“I still say we trap him,” Liv pipes up.

Tara groans.

“Liv, that’s why we’re here.”

“We could do it at the house,” Mindy suggests, biting her lip.

“And how are we going to do that?” Tara asks, “This house is on lockdown. He’ll never get in, now. Not with Sam parading about like the secret service.”

“We do it at school,” Chad suggests, “Think about it. Ghostface won’t be scared off by Sam and YN’s Dad. And it’s a familiar place - we know it like the back of our hands.”

“Ghostface hasn’t attacked us at school.” You say, chewing your lip.

“Not yet.” Chad stresses, “But maybe he will. If we can draw him out.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Tara asks, voice dry, “Send him a text message? Hey, Ghostface - YN and I will be hanging out by ourselves in the girls locker room if you want to try carve us up like cattle again.”

“We need to make it public knowledge that we’ll be alone,” You say, sitting up, “If we can spread it through the entire school, surely he’ll find out. He’s watching us, remember.”

“Detention.” Chad says, snapping his fingers together, “Principal Garcia’s detention! There’ll be no one there. No one is ever bad enough to get Principal Garcia’s detention.”

Principal Garcia had started a programme just as you’d joined Woodboro High. Regular detention was held after school, as usual. But Principal Garcia’s detention was held Saturday mornings. You’d only ever heard of one student who was naughty enough to get one of the Principal’s detention.

And that person happened to be your girlfriend.

“He doesn’t hand them out willy-nilly,” Tara says, sounding frustrated, “You have to be really bad to get one.”

“You got one,” Mindy says, raising an eyebrow, “Figures you could get one again.”

Tara’s Principal’s detention had been granted at one of your old soccer games. Faye Evans, one of the girls on the opposing team had played it too fast and loose one the field and ended up kicking your shins a little too hard. You’d toppled to the ground in agony.

Faye would have got a red card, if Tara had not got to her first.

You’d sat up, just in time to see Tara bee-lining from her spot on the sidelines. She’d grabbed Faye by the arms and body-slammed her so hard into the ground she drew blood. She’d maybe have done worse had you not pried her off.

Thankfully, Faye’s parents had settled for the detention (and Tara’s permanent ban from watching your soccer games) in lieu of a lawsuit.

“Chad punched someone last year and got suspended,” Tara grumbles, “That isn’t what we need. We need a detention, not a mark on our permanent records.”

“I was defending Liv’s honor,” Chad says, puffing his chest out a little, “Some dude in Chemistry grabbed her ass.”

Liv all but swoons. She ducks down and kisses him.

“My hero.” She murmurs.

Mindy wrinkles her nose.

Tara looks at you, “I was doing the same for you,” She says, sounding aggrieved, “Some girlfriends are grateful, see?”

“You’re not body-slamming anyone again,” You tell her, eyebrows raised, “Besides, you can barely stand up without wincing.”

“Maybe you could cuss out a teacher?” Mindy suggests.

Tara shakes her head.

“I’ve done that too, got a regular detention.” She says.

The teacher in question was Mrs. Cartwright. She’d given you a C+ on your English paper. And Tara had hit the roof.

You stir, not enjoying this trip down memory lane.

Tara looks over at you.

“We could get caught.” She suggests, “Third period - maybe before History class.”

Your cheeks flame red.

“No,” You hiss, “Absolutely not.”

“Baby, we have to do something.” Tara insists, “It has to be bad enough to get a Principal’s detention, not so bad we get suspended-”

“I’m not fucking you in front of Mr Saunders,” You say.

“It wouldn’t be all the way, maybe just some mouth stuff.” Liv says, helpfully.

You glare at her.

“Forget it,” You tell Tara, “Think of something else.”

The group collectively slump back in their seats. It’s quiet a moment, and then Chad sits up.

“I’ve got it!” He says, sounding excited, “We make a big show in class, Tara and I get into an argument - and then she punches me! The only reason I got suspended is because that kid’s Dad got involved. So I just won’t tell mine.”

You furrow your brows.

“You can act like I hit on your girl, or something,” Chad continues, “It’s perfect!”

“And I am I supposed to get detention from this?” You ask.

Chad shrugs, “I don’t know. You punch me too?”

Tara chews her lip.

“It’s a terrible idea,” She says, “But it’s the best we have so far.”

“What’s a terrible idea?” Sam’s in the doorway. You hadn’t heard her come in. She has another platter of vegetables in hand.

The five of you whip around, the guilt on all of your faces evident.

“Chad thinks we should get McDonalds for lunch,” Mindy says, lamely.

Sam stares at her, disbelieving.

“What’s this about punching Chad?” She says, staring at Tara, “And why do you want detention?”

Liv folds like a lawn chair.

“We’re trying to get Tara and YN a principal’s detention.” She says, quickly, “So Ghostface will attack Tara and YN and we’ll be able to catch the guy.”��

Mindy groans.

“Liv,” She hisses, “We were fine.”

Sam stares a moment.

“No,” She says, immediately. Tara sits up a little straighter.

“Sam we need a plan,” She argues, “If we can trap the asshole and take off his mask-”

“You have a three inch hole in your stomach,” Sam says, voice shrill, “And if you think I’m trusting these idiots to protect you-”

“Sam,” Tara interjects, voice raised, “I’m not a little kid anymore. I can look after myself.”

“You’re not leaving this house unless I’m with you,” Sam says, sounding final, “And if you think I’m going to let you use yourself as bait for Ghostface-”

“She’s already bait for Ghostface,” You say, cutting in. Sam stares at you, “Look at what just happened. Sam, if we want to stop this guy, we need to know who he is.”

Sam looks at you.

Really looks at you.

You’re right and she knows it. You can tell by the look in her eyes. Hesitant, troubled. Like she’s fighting a losing battle in her own head.

Tara interjects before she can say anything.

“You can be a part of the plan if you want,” She says, “But we’re doing it with or without you.”

“You’re doing it with me,” Sam says, after a long moment, “You’re doing it right. Tell me the plan.”

Chad goes into animated detail. Too much detail.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam cuts Chad off mid-sentence, eyebrows furrowed, “Assault is assault, Chad. Tara will be suspended within the hour.”

“So what do you suggest, Sam?” You ask, a little desperate.

Tara interjects, “I still think we should get caught having-”

“No.” You and Sam say at the same time.

Tara crosses her arms.

“I have an idea,” Sam says, biting her lip, “But I need you to trust me.”

Sam’s idea is ridiculous at best, plain cruel at worst.

But it’s the best idea you have.

Wednesday morning you’re sitting in history class after having half-carried Tara into school, your stomach awash with butterflies. Chad, Liv and Mindy sit around you like body-guards, and despite the ridiculousness of the Ghostface-fighting crew you’ve put together, it does give you a little comfort knowing they’re close.

Mr Saunders is a dreary, five foot seven, forty one year old. He wears bowties to school and torments his classes with facts about history, which he delivers in a droning, tired voice. As if even he is sick of hearing about it.

It’s the Vietnam war today.

You let him begin the class, even listen for a little.

Sorry, you think preemptively.

It’s almost Ironic, how he spends so much time talking about war and is so unaware he’s about to be the next casualty in one.

Right on schedule, as he pauses to take a sip of his coffee, Tara raises her hand.

“Mr Saunders,” She pipes up, “Can YN and I be excused?”

Mr Saunders looks down at her. Long lines draw across his forehead. His shoulders tighten. He doesn’t like being interrupted.

He looks between you and Tara, eyes appraising. The two of you had a certain reputation in school, and you were certain no teacher would let the two of you go off alone. Let alone him.

“Do you need to see the nurse, Ms Carpenter? I’m sure, Mr Meeks-Martin can escort you.” Pointed, as if he sees right through her façade.

Tara shakes her head. Her eyes blaze in that way they do when she’s determined to see something though.

Your stomach flips.

“Not really,” She says, a little blasé, “This lesson is just boring me, a little.”

The class sniggers. Mr Saunders’ expression turns frosty. He stands a little taller, hushes the class with a whack against the white board.

“I’m sorry you don’t find the Vietnam war more entertaining, Ms Carpenter,” He says, voice stern, “But you’ll just have to make do. No, you may not be excused.”

You grip Tara’s hand a little tighter. It’s your turn.

“Why do you have such a stick up your ass all the time, Sir?” You say, voice a little shaky.

Tara rubs her thumb over the back of your hand, comfortingly.

Mr Saunders blinks back at you. It isn’t often you spoke up in his class, if at all. His face flames red with anger.

“Why don’t I tell you in detention?” He says, curling his lip.

He turns his back to you, scribbling madly on the whiteboard, trying to redirect the attention of the class.

Disappointment floods through you.

Detention. A regular detention. It isn’t what you need.

“He’s balding, babe, that’s why,” Tara says, loudly, “He wears a toupee and thinks everyone can’t tell-“

Mr Saunders whirls around.

“Detention,” He hissed again, “Both of you.”

“Mr Saunders doesn’t have a toupee,” Chad says, exactly on time, “There’s no way. Look at that thick head of hair.”

Tara stands.

“Sit down, Ms Carpenter,” Mr Saunders says, voice irate.

You can’t look as it happens.

Mr Saunders, although a little strict, is a perfectly nice teacher. And you were about to humiliate him in front of a sea of piranha-like teenagers.

Liv squeezes your shoulder.

“It’s for a good cause,” She offers in a whisper.

Tara reaches the front of the room. Mr Saunders doesn’t see it coming. He blocks the door, as if that’s where she’s trying to go.

And then in one swift move, she’s launching her arm forward and plucking the toupee straight off his head.

The class gasps, then erupts into a flurry of shock and laughter. You bury your head in your hands.

Tara waves the toupee about as if it’s a trophy for a moment before Mr Saunders snatches it back and tries to jam it - upside down - on his bald head.

“Principal’s office,” He hisses, face contorted, red, like he’s about to explode, “Both of you. Now.”

There’s a lot of yelling.

Mr Saunders wants you both suspended, for being “arrogant, disrespectful little shits.”

You Dad is at work, so it’s Sam who gets called.

Principal Garcia watches the two of you over his glasses with faint distaste. Like he doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this kind of ridiculous nonsense.

“Mr Saunders, I am so sorry for my sister's behavior,” Sam says, wide-eyed when she arrives, as if it weren’t her very idea, “The only explanation I can give you is it’s been a very tough couple of weeks. You know, Tara was attacked by Ghostface just days ago.”

For the first time in the last hour, the Principal softens. He looks down at Tara, appraises her for a moment.

“That’s understandable,” He says. Mr Saunders’ shoulders tighten again, like an angry little wind-up doll, “But it’s no excuse for her behavior-“

“I agree,” Says Sam, nodding softly, “Principal, perhaps one of your special detentions will set her in order. Both of them. Give them time to think about how they behave in school.”

The Principal hums.

And agrees.

Exactly to plan.

Saturday detention can’t come fast enough.

Tara breaks down the plan over and over, as if you’re both in Ocean's Eleven, the detention your diamond heist.

There are cabinets which line the back of the classrooms. Chad and Liv are to sneak into school early, hide back there until the attack happens. Mindy and Sam are to scout the doors, using a nearby utility closet to stay out of sight.

Tara and Sam are both to be armed, and the six of you are going to be wearing military strength bulletproof vests - courtesy of Tara’s mom’s credit card she still hadn’t changed the PIN number to.

Perhaps she might after the near nine hundred dollar bill she had just incurred.

Sam instructs all of you to “aim for the knees, but kill the asshole if you have to.”

And despite all the planning and the manpower, you can’t help but have the sinking suspicion something will go wrong.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” Tara murmurs that morning, scouting out your quiet trepidation with expertise. She presses a kiss to your forehead and takes you in her arms, “I’ll protect you. He won’t touch you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” You murmur, lightly touching her wound with your fingertips. It’s been almost a week but she’s still healing. She winces when she sits down, and still leans on you sometimes when she walks.

You’re terrified that despite the gun and the vest, she’ll collapse to the ground and make herself Ghostface’s pin cushion once again.

She smoothes your hair back, fondly scratches your scalp.

“I’ll be okay,” She assures, “Once the adrenaline takes over.”

She kisses you.

“It’s going to be over, today,” She promises. Her dark eyes are awash with something: that fearlessness that comes so easy to her, “You’re never going to have to be afraid of him again.”

But you are afraid.

Not just of the inevitable attack that would occur, only hours later. You’re afraid once he’s unmasked he’ll talk. He knows, you know he knows. And one single utter of ‘Ghostface” and Tara’s name in the same sentence and the Sheriff would be knocking down your door to take her away.

“We have to kill him, baby,” You murmur. You bury your head in her neck, inhale her scent as if it will give you some comfort, “If he talks-”

“He won’t talk,” Tara says, sounding determined, “I’ll put a bullet through his brain before he gets the chance.”

The mood is somber.

Chad and Liv are en-route to the school, they’d texted ahead.

Mindy is to meet Sam outside the school in all but thirty minutes.

You chew down on some plain toast, trying to quell the tide of nausea rocking waves in your stomach.

“You okay, babe?” Tara asks, rubbing your back, “We need to get dressed in a minute.”

“I have a bad feeling,” You say. Tara leans over, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“It’s just nerves.” She promises.

“Don’t be nervous,” Sam assures from across the table. She’s loading pellets into her shotgun, “I’m going to be armed with more firepower than the entire nation of Latvia. Motherfucker better hope he’s wearing knee pads, else I’m going to blow his knee caps clean off.”

If anything, that makes you more nervous.

“Don’t fire it close to Tara.” You tell her, chewing your lip.

Sam shoots you a look.

“Do I look like a rookie to you?”

A little, you’d fire back but your thought is interrupted by a sharp, urgent knock at the front door.

Tara tilts her head.

“Who’s that?”

You frown, crane your neck to try and see the figure through the glass. Your parents were at work, and they didn’t often host unexpected guests.

Sam stands, carefully places her shotgun on the countertop as she goes to answer the door.

You follow, curiosity peaked.

And then immediately wish you hadn’t.

It’s the Sheriff, and two other offices, poised at either side of her shoulders.

Her stance is stoic, expression unreadable. Your stomach churns in that uneasy way it always does when she’s around. But something about this is different.

She seems… formal. Far too formal for this to be a house call. You grip Tara’s hand tight between your fingers.

“Sheriff?” Sam asks, a little confused, “What are you doing here?”

But the Sheriff isn’t looking at Sam. Her eyes are honed in on Tara. Like she’s found her mark.

“Tara Carpenter,” She says, voice even, “I need you to come down with me to the station."

“Why?” Sam asks, immediately. Her shoulders tense.

“We have some questions,” Sheriff Hicks says, eyes flickering, “That’s all.”

“So ask them,” Sam says, eyebrows furrowed, “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Sheriff Hicks reaches into her pocket.

She pulls out a piece of paper, and thrusts it towards Sam.

Your stomach sinks. A wave of hot anxiety flushes through you at the sight.

It’s an arrest warrant. With Tara’s name on it.

“You want to bet?” Sheriff Hicks says, voice cold.

You feel your heart start to pound. Tara blinks, staring at the paper a moment. You feel hot, your brain swimming. Your chest is tight, like the walls are closing in.

“I don’t understand,” Sam murmurs, crinkling the paper between her fingertips, “You’re arresting her for what exactly?”

“For murder,” Sheriff Hicks says, “For multiple murders. For the murder of Aaron and Sam Collins, Chase Matthews, Sadie Jones, Amber Freeman-“

Her voice quivers.

“And Wesley Hicks.”

It’s quiet a moment.

Your throat closes. Sam stares, eyes widening.

And then she splutters, “That’s ridiculous-“

Your hand tightens around Tara’s. She hasn’t moved. Her expression hasn’t changed.

Sheriff Hicks narrows her eyes.

“Don’t make me do this the hard way, Tara.” She says, “I can make a scene. I can handcuff you in front of your girlfriend and your sister or you can make it easy and come with me right now.”

Her hands touch the metallic handcuffs dangling off her belt, menacingly.

Panic swells in your chest. You feel as though you might combust. Your throat is tight but you manage to pry through a few strangled words.

“You’ve got it wrong,” You plead, tears pricking behind your eyes, “Tara hasn’t killed anyone.”

A blatant lie.

She’d see it if she looked over at you, saw the falsehood, the desperation swimming in your eyes. But the Sheriff isn’t looking at you. She’s looking at Tara, victorious.

As if she’s got her right in the scope.

Sam stares between them, then snaps into action.

“It’s going to be okay.” Sam says, all big-sister mode. She presses her hands to Tara’s shoulders, “I’m going to call a lawyer, right now. Don’t say anything to them Tara. I’ll follow, right behind, I’ll be in the waiting room the entire time-“

The plan.

It hits you like a jolt of lightning. The trap you’d perfected. The painstaking hours that had gone into planning it. The quick knock on the door that had sent it all out the window.

You’d had him.

Ghostface would have been yours. You’d have him unmasked, in the handcuffs the Sheriff had intended for Tara.

You think, quickly. And then close your eyes. Muster the strength it takes to get the words out.

“No,” You says, quietly. Tara and Sam both look over at you, “We had plans today, Sam.”

Sam looks at you as if you’re crazy.

There are police in your yard, swarming the lawn, sirens blaring. There’s a dozen of them, as if the Sheriff needed backup. As if, your tiny, injured, 5”1 girlfriend would put up so much fight twelve police officers would have to hold her down.

You blink back tears, hold the lump in your throat.

And you know exactly what you need to do.

“My Dad will be with her,” You continue, “I’ll call him now. He’ll call the lawyer, drive her home when they let her go. Inevitably.”

You shoot a look at the Sheriff.

“But Sam, it’s the only way.”

“No,” Tara says, voice flat, “No. Sam, tell her no.”

“It’s the only way,” You say, breathless. You blink back the tears, “We need to give them something.”

The Sheriff is watching, eyes peeled. Eyes narrowed, like she’s trying to make out your not-so-secret code.

You swallow. Taper down your emotions for a moment. Determination surges through you.

Lawyers, police, The Sheriff. Nothing could fix this but doing one thing.

Giving the police Ghostface. On a silver platter.

Sam’s quiet.

But Tara kicks up a fuss.

“Baby,” She urges, trying to pry your attention, to her “Baby, look at me. Say you won’t. Promise me you won’t.”

You swallow.

Brush her hair out of her face. Her eyes are wide, desperate. Huge brown orbs, pleading. It’s so strange to see her powerless. It’s unnatural.

You kiss her, softly.

“I’m going to protect you,” You promise against her lips, voice but a whisper, “The way you protect me.”

“That’s enough.” The Sheriff says, voice stern, “Tara. Easy way or the hard way? Your choice.”

Tara swallows.

“Sam,” She says, voice urgent, “Promise me you won’t let her. Promise me.”

Sam blinks a moment, her face blank.

And then she nods, presses a long kiss to Tara’s forehead.

“I promise,” She says, voice soft, “Go with the Sheriff. YN and I will be right behind you.”

Your heart sinks. Relief floods through Tara’s face.

“Now, Tara,” The Sheriff says, voice stern. Tara steps forward. Shoots a final look at you.

“I love you,” She murmurs.

And then you watch, tears in your eyes, as she’s hauled off in the back of a squad car. She limps to the car, looking so small amongst the sea of police officers. Helpless.

It makes you ache.

You turn to Sam when they’re out of sight, eyes shimmering with brand new determination.

“Sam- I know you’re in shock, but it’s the only way-”

“You don’t have to sell me a pitch, YN,” Sam says, voice low. The unshed tears in her eyes mirror yours, “We’re going to the school and we’re catching Ghostface.”

You blink.

Sam looks at you.

“You’re right,” She says, lip quivering, “It’s the only way to save her.”

#all hers #ghostface!tara #fanfic #mine #jenna ortega #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x yn #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x yn #tara carpenter x you #wednesday

635 notes · View notes

sorry-not-feeling-it-right-now · 3 months ago

Note

Do you have any headcanons for the Smiling Critters?

Oh I do actually! Many of which that I was planning on making a comic on, but never really had the motivation to draw them ^^;

I will talk about them here as a post of all my HCs for them, however (that’s all for now, anyway)

Bobby Bearhug

-Has a collection of plush toys that she likes to cuddle with

-Has a hobby on photography. Loves taking photos of her friends smiling and having fun together

-Has a photo book created by Crafty as a gift. Keeps her collection of photos in there and would flip through it whenever she feels nostalgic or misses her friends

-Has a honey farm

-Because of this she’s also a pretty good gardener. Has a beautiful garden in her backyard

-Can’t cook for sh!t, but she’s good at brewing tea with her signature honey mixed into it

-Haven’t really decided on whether I want this, but despite being a bear she is vegan

-Touch is her love language, so whenever she wants to reassure her friends when they’re in distress she’d squeeze their hand slightly and be as close to them as possible

-Sometimes gets involved in things that she really shouldn’t be involved in

-Really strong

Dogday

-Dangerously selfless. Would die protecting his friends

-Has an ego on being “the leader” of the group, and is hesitant on giving that role to someone else due to his insecurity on him not having a specific specialty that makes him unique from the others (his friends loves him regardless, but he doesn’t know that until it was explicitly told to him)

-Later grew to have an interest on rock music

-Despite wearing a smile on his face, he hides his emotions deep deep down in order to not worry anyone

-A fast runner rivalling Hoppy

-Doesn’t really like sitting alone with his thoughts. Often seen doing something

-Has an older brother whom he looks up to. He’s the only family member he knows of

-Has a strong moral compass

-Can be really intimidating if he has to be

-Doesn’t bark often, his bite can really hurt though

-Self care? What self care?

Kickin Chicken

-Fashion king

-Can sew

-Has two sisters. One younger one older

-Because of this he knows how to braid and take care of longer hair

-Actually looks up to Bubba and thinks he’s cool due to how knowledgeable he is

-He is slow, but not an idiot. He is insecure about this

-Unspoken mutual rivalry with Hoppy

-Street smart

-Saves money due to his home environment

-Does skateboarding. Has repaired his skateboard many times

Hoppy Hopscotch

-Very self-critical

-Can be really competitive

-One of the early birds alongside Dogday and Picky

-Often use that energy in the early mornings for morning runs. Sometimes accompanied with Picky

-When she’s really excited she’d be too excited too sleep that day

-Same goes with stress

-Has an interest towards space, only amplified by Bubba being supportive of her interest

-Star gazes with Bubba and Catnap

-Stargazing is pretty much one of the only quiet activities she enjoys

CraftyCorn

-Often seen being in her own little world of imagination

-Has a bug collection

-Has a book club with Bubba sharing their favourite books

-Often gives her unfinished beta writings to Bubba to prove read

-Keeps a diary to collect her thoughts on that day

-Looks up to Dogday

-Plays dress up with Bobby (Sometimes the rest would join in)

-Wasn’t able to do magic with her horn

-Collects trash from the other critters and turns it into something beautiful

-Struggles academically

Bubba Bubbaphant

-Keeps Dogday and his friends from doing something stupid and killing themself

-Has a book club with Crafty sharing their favourite books

-Discusses different theories with Crafty

-Loves loves LOVES info dumping. He’s like that excited kid telling you about all the things he has learned that day

-Keeps a journal of all the things he has learned about the world

-Loves learning about his friends and keeping notes of it

-Made a calendar for Hoppy and Kickin when they had requested a billboard for their achievements

-Has a deep fear of not being heard, something he relates with Crafty (and eventually Kickin)

-Not the best artistically

-Loves a good mystery

-Not afraid of ghosts, but is afraid of mice

Catnap

-Also keeps Dogday from killing himself

-Appeared in the town one day and asserted himself. Lived there ever since

-He and Crafty have this kinship between them, being the two more introverted ones of the friend group

-Good listener

-Very clingy, especially towards Dogday

-Can literally fall asleep anywhere

-Despite not having much to say he emotes a lot

-He can speak, but he prefers not speaking at all. Often meows or uses sign language to communicate

-His friends learned to read sign because of this

-Loves and cares about his friends dearly and sees them as family. Will hurt others for them

-Keeps his fur tidy despite being lazy

Picky Piggy

-Bubbly, hardworking and can be really sassy

-Usually the one with common sense in the room alongside Bubba

-Owns a family farm

-Wakes up early to take care of the farm

-Sometimes have morning runs with Hoppy

-Despite having a farm she knows how to save money, often going for the cheaper option

-Would rather cook her own meals then to buy take ins

-Really big family. She’s one of the older middle kids

-Self-care girlie

-A generous soul

That’s all of them for now! I might add more of them if I remember any more of them or when more stuff comes out naturally

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #dogday #catnap #kickinchicken #bubba bubbaphant #craftycorn #bobby bearhug #hoppy hopscotch #picky piggy #smiling critters headcanons

33 notes · View notes