#who started raising chickens last spring

[avibero]

TikTok feels like a prime outlet to recruit people into conspiracy theories and weird cult like mentalities. Like I just go there to find some funny memes or recipes and gardening ideas, but there is such overlap between gardeners and preppers that the algorithm starts feeding me the most unhinged vids of government conspiracies followed by new agey prophets foretelling, idk, the rapture? But all framed as, like, advice for small homesteaders. And it KEEPS GIVING THOSE KINDS OF VIDEOS TO ME. I remember catching myself almost believing some of these things last year because I just kept seeing them and the ideas wormed their way into my brain until I started thinking that way (and this is one of the many reasons I only occasionally go on tiktok). And what I'm seeing are probably the more tame ones! This feels bad? Especially with so many younger people on the platform

[smilingcrittersthingig]

Oops, I seem to have written a oneshot about Reborn Starstudent instead of reviewing for my exams…

Welp 🤷‍♀️

The way I feel about you

He stood atop a platform under a big hole, the chicken looked around the large cavelike area until his eyes drifted to the green rabbit who was across him.

“Hoppy!” he yelled, the rabbit looked up to meet his eyes

“Hoppy come on! Jump!” he encouraged her, holding his hand out for the rabbit.

He kept his sight directly at her while she jumped, he noticed that her spring was a bit small, his worry grew larger the moment he felt her paw brush against his, his eyes widened as he saw her get swallowed by the abyss.

“HOPPY!!!” he almost tried to go after her but he was grabbed and dragged by the blue elephant.

“WAIT HOPPY FELL DOWN—!!!” he tried struggling out of the elephant’s grasp.

“WE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THAT, KICKIN! THEY’RE CATCHING UP!” he kept his grip on the chicken who was still reaching and yelling for the rabbit.

“HOPPY—!!!”

Kickin woke up in a cold sweat.

He clutched his chest, trying to steady his breathing and desperately resisting the tears coming out of his eyes.

He looked around his dark room, he didn’t like the dark. Kickin stood up from the bed after he calmed himself down, turning on the lights.

The chicken hugged himself, recalling the time with Hoppy. He fought back tears again before looking out the window. He needed to check up on her, he just felt he needed to.

Kickin walked out of the house and started to walk to Hoppy’s house, he just needed to make sure she was there, he needed to make sure she was alive. Just a quick glance, it’s not creepy, is it?

A raindrop dropped on his head with more following right after, it started raining. Great, just his luck. He ran through the rain, ignoring the mind tricks his brain gave him as he saw glimpses of scary figures and such.

He’s not gonna last through all this. His attention was immediately stolen by a light coming from one of the windows. It was from Bubba’s house, he’s still awake?

Kickin didn’t want to stay outside any longer, Hoppy’s house was still a distance away. He quickly walked to the front door and knocked on the door.

Silence

He knocked again, this time with rhythm.

Still Silence

He started banging on the door loudly. For someone having big ears, his hearing sure suc—

Bubba slammed the door open “Okay okay what—!?” His irritated expression immediately softened as his eyes landed on the chicken, shivering from the cold rain.

“Kickin-? What are you doing here?” the elephant asked, very confused about the appearance of his yellow friend.

“long story.. can i come in..?” he nervously rubbed his arm “Yeah- of course, come in” he moved out of the way and let Kickin inside his house.

Bubba quickly closed the door and ran to get a towel for Kickin. The chicken tried to shake the water off until he felt something soft get thrown at his face.

“I’m allowing you to step inside my house, not to dirty it.” he ruffled his wet feathers with the towel before Kickin slapped his hooves away.

“I can clean myself you know.” Kickin slightly glared at Bubba. “Can’t risk you making more of a mess here” he glanced at the trail of water.

The chicken quickly wiped himself off before sitting down on his couch, the elephant followed and sat beside him. “So… Are you going to explain why you’re here?”

“…I wanted to check up on Hoppy… But the rain held me back so I decided to rest up here.” he replied.

“oh” Bubba felt his chest sting. He noticed the fact that Kickin has gotten way more attached to Hoppy lately. They’ve always been a duo but he’s recently been closer to her than usual. He’s been suppressing his feelings about that.

“How about you? Why are you awake?” Kickin raised his eyebrow at Bubba. “I was reading a really interesting book” he answered which the chicken laughed in response to.

“Of course you did” he chuckled, Bubba found his cheeks warming up but looked away in an attempt to not be seen in that state.

“You don’t mind if I stay here until the rain goes away, do you?” the chicken asked, Bubba stayed silent for a bit before forcing a small smile. “Yeah… Of course”

Kickin smiles back before grabbing the remote near him “You got some cool shows here?” he turned on the TV. “Well I have some horror movies I can put on”

Kickin looked a bit hesitant “… I mean unless you don’t want to—“ “No! No I can watch it! Put on the scariest one!” he threw the towel aside and tried to pull a confident pose, but he didn’t look as proud as he usually would.

Bubba smirked “Really? Alright I’ll take you up on that then” he grabbed the scariest movie he had and put it on as he sat beside a Kickin who’s already regretting his decision.

Bubba watched the movie intently. He’s already watch this one and was looking closely at the details he might’ve missed.

He looked away from the screen to see how Kickin was doing, he was stiff as a stick with his eyes dreading the next loud sound. Bubba could only silently chuckle to himself while looking at the terrified chicken.

Then a jumpscare came up which caused Kickin to let out a scream and latch onto Bubba’s arm as he flinched, his face warming up from the sudden physical contact.

“… I-I mean that uh— You didn’t hear anything” he nervously laughed as he let go of the elephant’s arm. He quickly snapped back to reality and cleared his throat to stop his blushing.

“So much for being able to watch it hm?” he teased the chicken to ignore what he was currently feeling “Hey!” he glared at Bubba who chuckled in response.

They continued to watch the movie until it ended. Bubba found his ears drooping down, he didn’t exactly want the movie to end, not because he liked the movie, it just meant Kickin would be leaving afterwards since the rain has also gone away.

He let out a sigh “Alright I guess you have to get going no—“

He felt something lay on his shoulder. He turned his head and sees Kickin had fallen asleep right on him. He could feel his face warm up as he looked away in panic.

Okay Bubba you got this. Just wake him up and… let him leave. The elephant felt terrible, he hated this feeling. Why can’t he just be a good friend and be happy for him. Why is he so upset about this.

…Actually he already knows why he feels that way.

He looks at the chicken’s face again, he looked peaceful… It… It would be fine if he let him sleep in, right? It looked like he hasn’t been sleeping much anyways.

He knows he’s being selfish… He’s a selfish bastard.

He tried standing up to grab a blanket for Kickin but the chicken held onto his arm and refused to let go. Bubba stayed frozen for a couple seconds before sitting back down and letting Kickin sleep on his arm.

… He closes his eyes and lightly laid his head on Kickin’s.

He knows why he’s been feeling this way.

He liked Kickin.

[anamelessfool]

Papa's Metamorphosis

An interactive Adventure (hashtag #papas metamorphosis)

Dedicated to @cowbell-ghuleh and @ryuzatodraws-archive for their bold contributions to Ghost Plush Lore

One morning, as Papa Emeritus IV wakes from anxious dreams, he discovers that in bed he had been changed into a tiny, evil little doll.

It takes him a few moments of bleariness before the full realization; at first his assessment of the ceiling’s height hinted at the possibility that he had fallen to the floor in the night. He is a rough and restless sleeper, even before all the wine last night. He had been celebrating his recent elevation to Frater Imperator with his ghouls and several eager and very flexible Siblings of Sin, and at the time he admitted he is no spring chicken. Right now he feels stiff, out of place. There’s a certain numbness in his limbs that would normally launch him into a panicked web search of symptoms. The blankets have an odd heaviness to them that he struggles with as he attempts to reach for his phone. As he frees himself from the prison of blankets, his hand passes across his face and a cold feeling of terror darts across his body.

He doesn’t have a hand. Well, whatever hand he has now is a stubby stick arm of felt devoid of any grasping mechanism. He swears out loud but his voice doesn’t fill the room the way it used to. It’s small, far away, emitted by minuscule lungs. He tests out the arm again— yes, it is his, and he can flex the end like a mitten. He had never considered mittens to be terrifying before. But there’s a first time for everything.

He sits up and realizes the giant, soft wall behind him is actually his pillow. Somehow he has shrunk down in the night and at once he starts to sweat. Through past 3 AM anxiety web searching he learned that aging came with a small amount of height loss, but not like this. Overnight he’s become smaller than a ghoul chew toy.

He sits up, patting himself. What he’s experiencing has transcended any sort of logic and so he can’t even form a proper string of panicked thoughts. His whole body is soft, ominously squishy and apparently made of cheap black and orange felt. He reaches up to touch the top of his head and someone has left a tiny Santa-like felt hat on his head, as if to mock his predicament. Elf on a shelf? More like dead on this fucking bed. “Porca troia!” Papa swears and flails his stick arms. “What a fiasco!”

He drags himself from his bed and reveals equally stubby felt legs. Papa slept mostly in the nude, but now his delightfully furry body is transmuted into itchy felt and stuffing. His socks must have come off in the night, left under the covers as this curse took its toll on him as he slept. He pats himself again as if this time he would feel actual human flesh but no. His skin is now some sort of polyester suit that suggests clothing but raises a lot of existential questions he didn’t have yesterday.

He’s going to carry on. Maybe right here, right now he’s fucked but hey— he is an optimist when push comes to shove. He runs a magical Satanic Church. Sometimes one has to take the bad with the good. The random evil curses alongside the debauchery. Papa has a lot of friends…but he can’t forget his enemies.

He starts to pace, unnerved by how his new stick legs swing out and land on the mattress. His bed is now a vast mesa of red silk that needs to be crossed. What was he doing last night? There was the party, and the Siblings, and the Ghouls…Sister’s ghost looking annoyed while Papa Nihil snored way too loudly for an incorporeal entity. There was food, lots of juice and wine and juice and wine… but what else? In the back of his mind he has a memory of this rattling, this pounding sound…from where? From who?

Papa reaches the ledge of his bed and looks down at the floor below, shaking his head. He’s looking down into a canyon floor of marble and Oriental rugs. If anyone was going to figure this out, it had to be him. This entire situation is a nightmare at worst, an embarrassment at best. He squishes his body again, and it springs back in a way that bones and muscle don’t. He jumps off the side of the bed, hedging his bets on his entire body being made of stuffing and felt. Maybe it will work. Or maybe he’ll break every bone in his body and shuffle off this mortal coil. He hopes at the very least if this is how he goes, his ghost form won’t be a cursed little doll.

Papa bounces off the floor, gasping in wild panic but unharmed. He rights himself, replacing the stupid hat on his head for some unconscious reason. Maybe to remind himself of how much of a fucking fool he feels like right now. By the door to his bedroom (which is thankfully half open due to his fear of the dark) his rats shuffle and squeak in their cage, hungry for their breakfast. But he can’t reach much, being what he is now. They’ll have to wait while he figures this out.

He needs help, and thankfully there’s a few options.

Your vote contributes to how this story goes. As for the "Other" option I have a right to pick and chose what works for me personally. This story is PG-13.

The polls are 24 hours but I may not post every day.

Please reblog for maximum impact! Let's have fun here.

[mamawasatesttube]

"Your hands are freezing." from the prompt list :]

Ma hasn't been sleeping too well lately, since Kal went missing. Now that he's back home, safe and sound in Metropolis, Kon has finally managed to succeed in turning Ma's own gentle-but-firm bullying techniques on her so that she'll actually get some rest, and you bet he's gonna be riding that high for a while.

It's a pretty warm spring day, so Kon decided he'll take the outside chores while Pa handles the inside ones. And he's breezing through 'em pretty fast! He's milked the cows, fed the chickens, collected the eggs, and weeded the kitchen garden, and...

And the entire time, Kal's been in the sky, way up out of sight, staring at him.

At this point, it's getting kinda ridiculous. Kon dumps the last of the kitchen scraps into the compost, washes his hands off at the hose, and leaps into the sky.

The sun buoys him up, full of energy and warmth as the air grows cooler around him. The farmhouse grows tiny under his feet, all the lush fields and farmland sprawling out towards the horizon. His TTK keeps the wind from mussing his hair as he zooms higher (up, up and away, right?), until he zips through a wisp of cloud and slows.

Kal, caught red-handed, gives him an awkward smile, clearly trying not to look too guilty. "Ah," he says. "So you noticed me."

"Uh, yeah, dude." Kon squints at him. His cape flaps behind him in the breeze; he's fiddling with the edge of it with one hand, almost like he's nervous. Since when does Kal get nervous? "You've been watching me for, like, an hour. It's getting freaky, man. What's going on?"

Kal rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. Isn't that wild? Superman, sheepish? What's gotten into him?

"Sorry," he says. "I, just, hm... How do I put this..."

He drifts closer, his eyes never leaving Kon's face. Kon tilts his head to one side, studying him. He looks... tired. Not, like, physically tired—that would be alarming, 'cuz they're in direct sun—but like, tired. Kon heard vaguely about the stuff that happened with Kandor, with Preus, but looking at Kal sets off some alarm bells. He knows what happened, but what happened?

Kal reaches out, and his palm brushes Kon's cheek.

Kon scrunches up his face in mild protest. "Dude, your hands are freezing! How long—"

Kal jerks away as if burned. Horror flashes through his eyes before he wrests it back behind the curtain. "I'm sorry!"

Kon blinks. "Uh... you didn't hurt me or anything." What is going on with Kal? "Your hands're just cold. You've been up here since way before I noticed you, haven't you?"

On impulse, he reaches out and grabs Kal's hands. They're cold, but he knows to expect that now; it only takes him a second to focus the energy behind his eyes, to warm them back up. Kal's the one who taught him that trick, just a few months ago, when his heat vision started to come in.

"I've... been here for a while, yes." Kal's voice is oddly soft, almost... fragile. He's staring at their joined hands like they contain all the secrets of the universe, and, uh, wow, Kon is definitely missing something here. "I'm sorry for freaking you out."

Kon's pretty sure Kal's the one who's actually freaked out, but if he says that, he knows Kal will deny it and shoot off back towards Metropolis. "No big," he says instead, and grins wryly. "You may as well come down 'n' come in, though. Pa's making cobbler."

Something eases in Kal's expression, and Kon knows he said something right. Warmth settles into his chest.

"Pa's making cobbler?" Kal raises an eyebrow, glancing down towards the itty-bitty farmhouse far below. "Ma let him?"

"He promised he wouldn't make a mess with the flour this time." Kon grins. "But maybe you better check on him, just to be sure."

A little of the ever-present weight on Kal's shoulders seems to fall away as he smiles. "You do make a compelling argument, Kon-El. Maybe I should."

"I make great points all the time, Kal-El." Kon squeezes his hands, bursting with pride. Kal's approval always makes him feel like he's basking in sunlight all over again. "C'mon, then. Krypto'll be excited to see you, too. And you can bring back treats for Lois!"

"Yes, yes, you've already persuaded me," Kal laughs. He lets go of Kon's hands to ruffle his hair, and Kon squawks in protest, ducking his head. "Let's go."

"Last one home's a rotten egg!" Kon crows, and zooms downward.

He can still hear Kal laughing behind him.

[weministertomonsters]

M Werefox (Harcourt) x F reader - 2

➤ Pairing - M werefox x F reader

➤ Wordcount 2.4k

The spring air is still cool, but the bright sun overhead promises warmth. You step out of the train and immediately get attacked by your mother, who drags you into her arms.

"Oh, my darling girl!" She exclaims.

She smells of pastries and sun-warmed linen, a scent that reminds you of home.

"Have you been waiting long?" You ask.

"Not very. Look at you, a proper hat and brooch and pressed clothes! All the fixings of a proper lady," your mother says as you part.

You grin and touch the brim of your hat. "Just wait till we're back home. I'll be back to my sundresses and boots in no time."

Your mother insists on carrying your suitcase for you. In the time you've been gone, you've forgotten how capable your mother is. Her hair is peppered with gray, and yet she's stronger than you, fit from working in the gardens. The wagon looks new thanks to the coat of paint that matches the sky.

"You saved up for paint?" You raise your eyebrows.

Your mother has always been practical. In the past, she would refuse to spend money on something if it wasn't necessary, and you know the wagon wasn't high on her list of importance.

"No, that's thanks to Elrond Palmer across the street. I traded a couple of pies for it. You remember Mr. Palmer?"

You do. The warm, friendly face of the widower pops into your mind. In the summer he paid you to pick the wild berries that grew on the edges of his land. You raise your eyebrows meaningfully.

"I was wondering why you didn't write as often as I had expected. You've been busy."

Your mother swats at you with a twinkle in her eye. "Get in the wagon."

"Okay!" You laugh and clamber onto the seat next to her.

"So, Mr. Palmer, huh?" You say.

"I'm not saying anything just yet," she replies. "But we get along nicely."

"I'm glad. How's Harcourt been?"

"That fox!" Your mother hums as she gets Holly the pony moving. "He's been a real help around the house. He fixed a leak in the roof for me and gave the walls a new coat of paint. And he buys the eggs from me now, if you can believe that."

"But?" You prod.

"He's been getting into some trouble lately. A couple of fights, nothing more."

"He didn't mention anything of the sort to me in his letters." You grip the edge of the seat as the road gets bumpy.

"It's spring." Your mother paused. "Mating season for the forest folk, so I've heard."

"I know," you mutter, plucking at a loose thread on your sleeve.

"If you two are planning-"

You almost jump out of the wagon. "Mother!"

"Hmmm, very well." She purses her lips. "Whatever you have between you, I just want you to know you have my blessing. Listen to your heart. Nothing is sweeter than the freedom to follow it."

You can't help but smile at that. "I'll remember that," you say, leaning your head affectionately against her shoulder.

She sighs happily like a weight has been removed from her shoulders. "Step lively, Holly!" She calls, giving the reins a light snap. "Let's go home!"

You really want to go down to the forest and find Harcourt, but you just got home and don't want to leave your mother alone so soon. You spend a cozy day together. The next morning you're hanging freshly washed sheets out to dry when the chickens start to make a racket. Drying off your hands, you go around the house to find a sleek-furred fox stuck clumsily half over the fence. The last time you saw him, he was in his fluffy winter coat.

"Oh my- Harcourt?" You squeak.

He scrunches his nose. "Hey, I wanted to surprise you. Then I got caught in your dammned fence."

"You goofball!" You tease. "What's stuck?"

"My tail," he scowls.

You lean over. "Right. Here we go." You tug it up and out of the slats, and he shakes himself off, grumbling.

"Here." He shoves a bunch of flowers into your hand.

"You got me flowers?" You grin. "Did you pick them yourself?"

"Yes, along the way. It's not much but-"

"No, this is wonderful!" You hug him, breathing in his familiar scent as your cheek rests against his fur. "You've grown taller," you murmur.

He nuzzles your hair, then inches away from you. "Only a little."

"Are you headed somewhere?" You ask.

"The tavern. I have to work there twice a week for a month." He sees the expression on your face and grins. "Don't worry, it was only a little fight."

You grab his ear and tug on it. "We're not kids anymore. You should know better."

"I know. I'll do better," he promises.

"Mmhmm, now that I'm here, I'm going to keep an eye out," you warn.

He only grins and hugs you again before whisking away.

"I'll come and see you later!" You call after his retreating form.

After dinner with your mother, you steal away to go see Harcourt. Or at least you try to. Your mother seems to be asleep, but as you put your walking shoes on she says,

"Don't forget your shawl. It's cold tonight."

You run over and give her a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back in an hour or so," you promise before you leave the house and walk the ten minutes to the tavern, which is right in the middle of the village.

As you push open the doors, raucous voices meet your ears.

"I heard you forest folk make the strongest brews. Is that true? Can this one hold his liquor? He looks stringy if you ask me. A good gust of wind would knock him over!" It's clear the beefy farmer is talking about Harcourt, who is busy setting mugs of frothy beer down on the table, his tail swishing with annoyance.

"You know how he gets when he's drunk," one man comes to Harcourt's defense. "Leave it be, Rob."

Rob ignores him, shoving one of the mugs towards Harcourt. "You a lightweight?"

"I don't think you want me drunk," Harcourt says coldly, staring at him with a black look that makes you shiver.

He's all tensed up, which is exactly how he gets when he's hunting. He's going to punch the man or worse.

You stride over to the table. "Hello, Rob!" You say. "How's your farm doing?"

You grab the mug and down it. You've had some alcohol during your time in the city, but this stuff is different. It's not as sweet and goes down hard. You manage not to cough as you slam the empty mug down.

Rob laughs. "Saving your friend's honor, hmm?"

"No, I was thirsty." Hands on your hips, you turn to Harcourt. "Give me another."

"You don't have to do this," he says quietly.

"I said I was thirsty," you say sweetly. "Now get me another." You put two coins on the tray and join the farmer's table.

Two mugs of beer later, you've managed to get Rob to stay out of Harcourt's business. It has costed you though, your head suddenly feels very heavy on your shoulders. You yawn and your vision tilts. Someone catches your forehead in their palm right before it cracks against the table.

"Come on," Harcourt murmurs.

"Yeah, I need some fresh air." You loop your arm around his waist and walk out of the tavern.

The cool, fresh air feels good on your face. Harcourt guides you over to the hill overlooking the forest which is covered in short, soft grass.

"Whoops," you giggle as you drop down on the grass next to him. "I think I've had a little too much to drink."

"Thanks for stopping me from being an idiot back there," Harcourt murmurs, tipping his head back and staring at the stars blanketing the night sky. "I'm always irritable in the spring."

"I wonder why!" you say, and frown as your head bumps down on the lumpy ground. "Do you mind?"

Before he can respond, you're already putting your head down on his chest.

"You're so warm," you hum in delight.

He lets out a soft breath. "You're way more drunk than I thought," he mutters. "You made such a big show of being able to handle it too."

Your alcohol-addled brain has decided he's a far more comfortable surface than the ground, so you roll over so you're completely on top of him, your hands clutching at his fur.

"Really? What am I, a pillow?" He complains.

You huff and lie there, enjoying the warmth. After a moment he whines softly, and you're just aware enough to realize you might be hurting him.

"Am I too heavy?"

"No."

"Then why are you making sounds like you're caught in a bear trap?" You grumble. "Scaring me for nothing."

His hand comes up, his claws trailing gently across your scalp.

"You're waking me up," he says.

"Hmm?"

"I've been trying to keep it off. My heat, I mean. The first one was horrible." He sucks in a breath, adjusting his position under you. "I'd be happy if I didn't have to go through it again."

"How do you do that?"

"I've been sleeping a lot," Harcourt admits. "To try and trick my body into thinking it's still winter."

"Now why would you do that? Isn't it a natural thing for your kind?"

"There aren't a lot of my kind around these parts if you haven't noticed," he says softly.

"I could help?"

"What!"

Your eyes narrow. "Why are you shouting at me?"

"Sorry. That's... No. I'll be fine," he mutters.

"But-"

"I can manage," his voice goes hard. "You need to get home."

"But I'm comfortable here," you groan against his fur.

"Well, I'm not," he says sharply. "Besides, your mother will wonder where you are."

"I'm an adult," you grumble. "I can do what I like."

"Up," he says, patting your back.

You sit up slowly, squinting at him. "Are you mad at me?"

His warm eyes soften. "You're really drunk," he murmurs, dragging the blunt curve of his claws over your cheek. He inches closer, his tongue flicking hungrily over his teeth. You lean into his touch, and that breaks him out of it.

"Let's get you home. Can you walk?"

"Yeah," you grumble, standing up, your legs as shaky as a newborn foal.

He takes you home. Halfway there he ends up carrying you. You swing your feet happily and when he tells you to stop squirming and kicking him in the ribs, you sing him off-key songs and tug on his ears. You barely remember what happened after that, but you wake up the next day in your bed with your head pounding and your mouth as dry as a desert.

You stumble downstairs for some water and your mother turns from the stove, a hand on her hip.

"Last night you were-"

"Nothing happened," you say sourly as you fill a cup with water. "I just drank too much."

Your mother sighs and shakes her head. You nurse your cup of water until the pounding in your head calms down. A bath and a warm breakfast later, the details of last night come back to you, and you have the sense to be ashamed. You got far too comfortable. It must have been awkward for him, considering you'd been away for so long, only to come back and act like no time had passed at all. Then again, you were drunk. After you finish helping your mother around the house you pack a sandwich and head for Harcourt's den.

It has changed a lot since the last time you were here. It has a door, for one, set into a mound of earth so that it looks like the gateway to a faery realm. You knock tentatively but don't get an answer. It's possible he's not home.

You try the door, and to your surprise, it opens with a hitch.

"Hopefully he's not keeping any valuables in here," you murmur, ducking in. "Anyone could walk in."

The floors are laid with wood, and the walls are plastered. It almost looks like a real house. Impressed, you wander down the small hallway that used to be nothing but a dirt tunnel.

You plan on leaving the gift for him on a table or something, but as you step into the circular space of his den, you find that he's there after all, curled up into a tight ball with his face shoved into his fluffy tail. You recall his words from yesterday, about how he's trying to sleep off the natural cycle of his heat. It sounded like a bad idea to you then, and it still does now.

Carefully, you lower yourself onto the edge of his nest. His ear flicks, but he seems to be asleep. He doesn't snap or growl when you gently touch his face, he only wrinkles his muzzle. Your hand sinks into the plush fur at his neck, and you stroke your hand over his shoulders, feeling the strong muscle underneath. Then, he lets out a whimper and flops over, twitching in his sleep. You wonder what he is dreaming about.

He inhales deeply, and flies up, knocking you over and pinning you down. His teeth bare in your face, and for the first time since you've known him, you actually feel afraid.

"Harcourt!" You shriek, and the flat, glaring animalistic look gradually fades out of his eyes.

Then they're sweet and familiar again, filling with horror.

"Why are you here?" He releases you and shrinks away. "What were you doing?"

"Sorry." You scrub at your eyes as they begin to profile with tears. "I wanted to bring you this."

You hold up the sandwich and he stares at it.

"I could have bitten your face off," he growls, his fur going all puffy with anger.

"I don't think you would have done that," you mumble.

"I'm not a kit anymore. My teeth are fucking sharp," he hisses. "If that ever happens again, you kick me as hard as you can and run."

Your eyes go round at the idea. "You would never-"

He laughs bitterly. "You have no idea what I would do," he says.

He licks his teeth and his ears flick back. "I think you should leave."

"But I..."

"Leave. Please." He turns his back to you and it takes everything in you not to cry.

You have to clear your throat twice before you can speak.

"Okay. Sorry." You put the sandwich down and slink away, feeling ashamed and sorry for yourself. However, you get it now. This isn't the time to hang out with your friend, because he's clearly out of it.

Well. This was getting long, so looks like I need to write a part 3. I can't believe I finally managed to finish this part. 🤡 Writer's block was being mean to me.

That said, I'm going on a little hiatus to focus on Patreon. I feel like I've said this before, but I badly need to have a bunch of stories on there, because that's the whole point of it. My posting has been like Tumblr -> Wattpad -> Patreon which needs to change to Patreon -> Tumblr -> Wattpad. That will save me a lot of stress, which invariably means I'll get to write more! I will be posting part 3 when I write it, so you won't have to wait for that!

I'm already looking forward to it.

[lunargeist]

@ghostly-tart

For you twin

Grian had owned the farm for almost a year and a half and winter was just around the corner. He had even put the effort into an actual warm coat as the cold air started to linger after the sun had been up for some time. He had just finished up with the junimos to allow Pam to take up her actual day job as the bus driver. Morality of that women behind the wheel aside, he was actually excited to get his hands on some more exotic plants for the farm when the warmer seasons come back around. He had found an old book in the library and the idea of making sugar from beets rather than buying from Pierre was a skill he planned on cultivating.

He pulled the scarf around his mouth and nose as he exited the chicken coop after giving his chickens their daily pats and making sure that they had yet to make their way through the feed he had put out for them last them the previous night.

Well, HE hadn't put the feed out but he had asked his new farm hand to do it. Perhaps, hiring someone just before the slowest farming season might not be the smartest way of doing things, but Grian wasn't excatly known for his smartest decisions. He did give up his stable job for trying to be a farmer either little to no experience. Granted, it was a soul killing job for Joja INC but stable nonetheless.

Despite his questionable career choices; he doesn't think that hiring Scar is going to be one of those. He had already seemingly taken to caring for the chickens and had spoken to Grian about the idea of installing a well on the south west side of the property so it could be easier to water plants come spring. As much as he wasn't sure he appreciated some guy who he let's live in a cabin on the corner of the farm give his two cents on how the farm should be laid out in the future, Grian certainly appreciated the enthusiasm.

He made sure to lock the door to the coop behind him before Grian started towards the main entrance to his farm. It was almost ten am and Pam should be just making her way down the path from the main part of town. He rubbed his hands together, absentmindedly thinking about if he could perhaps talk to Emily about the prospect of gloves.

Maybe see if Scar would be interested in them too. Something told Grian he wouldn't care though.

"Grian!"

Grian jumped and turned as Scar called from Grian's front porch. As if to prove his previous thought on offering Scar gloves, despite the nearing freezing temperatures, Grian's farm hand was only wearing a light hoddie and his usual work jeans. He came down the stairs and approached the shorter owner of the farm. "Where you off to this early? Pierre isn't open on Wednesdays."

"The bus is up and running again," Grian said and stuck his hands into his warm coat pockets. "Today is the first day it is back in service and I was planning on going and getting some stuff from the store and merchant I heard they have near the stop."

Scar's expression brightened. "I haven't been to Calico Desert in quite sometimes. Would you mind the company? If not, I'd rather like to come along with."

While he hadn't been expecting to even see Scar today, Grian couldn't say he excatly minded the idea of having the company.

"Actually," Grian said after a moment of pause. "I would appreciate it."

Scar gave him a warm smile before falling into step beside Grian as they headed towards the bus stop. "Of course! Like I said, I am happy to go back."

Pam came up behind them. The two men paid for their tickets and the departed. "You said you hadn't gone in a while. Why haven't you gone back if you seem to like it there?"

The duo took seats in the middle of the bus on either side of the aisle. Scar shifted so he was facing Grian as he made a face. "It's sorta dumb."

The owner of the farm raise an eyebrow as he settled back into the bus seat. Grian pulled the scarf off and folded it to shove into his pocket. "How dumb?"

Scar cringed and Grian couldn't help but laugh. "Oh no. That seems ominous. What did you do?"

"So, you know the casino?"

Grian's eyebrows shot up. "Did you get caught cheating?"

His farm hand scoffed. "Of course not. They couldn't prove anything but they sure as heck seemed sure I was cheating."

"Were you?"

"You seen me play cards at the saloon on Fridays. What do you think?"

"I think you owe Shane three hundred dollars from last week. That was hardly fair. Man was already a few beers down." Grian snorted.

"That round of black jack was fair game!" Scar gasped in mock offense, leaning back and placing a hand on his chest. "It wasn't my fault he put it all in."

"Scar didn't even need to cheat at that game," Pam's grave voice called back to the men. "That was just Shane being a nitwit."

Scar gestured towards their driver. "Just as the lady said; I am three hundred dollars richer because of someone's bad choices."

Scar making money off of other people's poor choices... Where does that sound familiar...? Grian just laughed the thought off with his hired farm hand.

"Are you going to leave your coat on the bus? I can't imagine that will be comfortable."

Grian looked down at his red coat. "Is it already going to be hot?it's barely after ten?"

"G, it's a desert."

Grian spluttered slightly. "I know that but it's also almost November. It's cold!"

"It's a desert, G!"

"So is Antarctica!" The farmer defended slightly, but his hands come out of his coat to start undoing the buttons.

"Have you ever been to Calico before?"

"No!"

Scar rolled his eyes. "Grian."

"Shut up, Scar. I write your pay checks."

"Oh no," Scar said drily as Grian folded his coat up on the empty seat beside him. "Whatever will happen when I don't pay rent for living in the hovel and I can just raid your fridge at night while you're asleep."

"Don't make me change my locks," Grian threatened as they pulled into the Calico bus stop. "And that cabin is nice."

"You wouldn't dare change the locks. Also, I don't have a full kitchen."

"I don't either!"

Pam turned around. "Can you two continue this outside of the bus? I planned on taking a nap."

Grian rolled his eyes but got up with Scar following him into the dry wind. He instinctively raised his hand to protect his face agaisnt the sand.

"Have you really not been to Calico?"

"No," Grian clipped as he squinted around the barren bus stop.

Scar snorted beside him before putting a hand on Grian's shoulder and started him towards the street to their back to walk in front of the idle bus. A few small buildings sat off in the distance, the largest being a two story bright pink building with a sign labeled OASIS over the sign.

Griam quickly shook off Scar's hand and started towards the building. He felt Scar keep up behind him. The farmer had no intention on saying it, but he was already grateful for Scar telling him to take his coat off. Even with the heaviest garment removed, he was still reaching quickly uncomfortable temperatures as they took the almost twenty minute walk to the desert store and casino.

By the time Grian pushed the swing door open, he could tell he was just as red in the face as his jumper and could feel the sweat on the back of his neck. It took a lot of effort not to let out a sigh of relief at the crisp AC. He seemed to have failed at completely hiding his relief because Scar right behind him laughed.

A young woman behind the front counter looked up from her magazine. Sandy shifted in her seat as rhe two men entered her store. "Welcome on in guys. Hello to you, Scar."

"Hi, Sandy!" Scar called back to the pink haired woman. "How are you doing!?"

"I'm doing great, thanks for asking!" Her attention turned to Grian as he trudged to the front counter. "Hi, I'm Sandy, welcome to Oasis. Can I help you find something?"

"Beet seeds?" Grian asked, sounding a lot more tired than he felt.

Sandy smiled like she knew why he sounded out of breath. "From the valley? Their summers are even more mild than our winters. If your looking for seeds, they are in isle two, most of the way down. There is also a water cooler back there too."

He nodded and started down where she gestured to. Grian heard as Sandy and Scar seemed to pick up a friendly conversation before he decided not to pay it any mind. He felt a slightly uncomfortable feeling settle in his stomach at Scar's familiar tone he was using with Sandy, but it was easy enough to blaim the veugly nauseous feeling because of the heat. He moved passed the seeds to go to the cooler that he had been directed to.

At the end of the shelves, there is a short hall where a door with a bodyguard dressed in a dark blue suit and sunglasses. Grian stared at him for a moment and, when the gentleman didn't respond to his present, turned back to the water cooler to get something to drink. Once he had himself a paper cup filled, he quickly moved out of sight.

He didn't really like the idea of not knowing if the bodyguard was actually looking at him or not.

Grian browsed the small seed selection as he drank his water, picking out a handful of the seeds he wanted. He got not just the beets he so wanted, but a handful of starfruit to try his hand at in his small house while waiting for summer. Grian took his seeds back up the front counter.

Scar was browsing a small clothes selection in the first of the three aisle. He poked his head over towards Grian as he approached the counter. "Grian, I think you might want to get this."

He pulled down a white shirt that said 'My Went to Calico and Only Bought Me a TeeShirt' with a small little cactus emoji under the text. "It's short sleeve~"

"Thanks but no," Grian snorted before he turned back to Sandy to pay for his seed selection, tossing his paper cup in a small trashcan by his knees.

Scar laughed before disappearing back the shelf. As Grian was wrapping up, his hired hand came and joined him back up at the counter, holding a small potted cactus. Grian glanced at the small terracotta pot. "I'm not buying that for you."

"I wasn't going to ask you to." Scar sulked slightly in a way that very much implied that he was actually was going to ask.

"Sure." Grian chuckled as he took his bag and stepped away to wait by the front door.

Scar bought his cactus as well as some other things before joining Grian at the door. "Are we gonna go to Skull Caverns?"

"Skull Caverns?" Grian asked, sounding a little appaled at the name.

Scar hummed as they left the safe air conditioned store. "Yeah. It's this creepy cave that isn't that far from here but there is this door in the back that has a massive skull carved into it."

"Carved into it?" Grian raised his hand again to protect his eyes. "Is it a metal door?"

"I dunno. It looks old as hell. Might be metal might not. I've never gone back and touched the thing."

"No, we can come back for creepy cave later. Let's go back home."

"Really? We just got here?" Scar sounded disappointed but he continued to follow beside Grian. "Are we gonna come back when you have an appropriate shirt?"

"I'm gonna come back without you, I think."

"Awww, G."

The two headed back to the bus and climbed back onto the bus. Pam sat up in her seat, lowering the grimy book. "Welcome back, boys. Back so soon?"

"It's too hot here." Grian complained. "I can't imagine ever wanting to live in the desert."

"He is being dramatic," Scar called as Grian went to dump himself into his seat. "I heard him talking to Sandy about buying a vacation house here once his farm takes off."

"If I am buying a vacation house anywhere, it's going to be Ginger Island." Grian yelled dramatically.

Both Pam and Scar laughed as the farm hand made his way to take his seat back up. He put his bag beside him as he settled. The bus had started up and began moving before Scar had gasped slightly and sat up before turning towards his bag. "Oh, before I forget, I got you something from Sandy's."

Grian was not suprised when Scar pulled out a white shirt with a cactus on it out of the bottom of his bag and passed it across the aisle to Grian. Despite not being suprised, he still couldn't help the laugh that came bubbling up from his chest. "Thanks. I'm sure I'll treasure this forever."

Scar returned the laughter with a quirked half smile. "I'm just glad you have something that won't give you heat stroke next time we go visit Sandy."

"Yeah sure." Grian folded the shirt losely and put it in his bag with seeds and picked up his scarf he had left on the seat with his jacket. "We."

[lilapplesheadcannons]

r/AmITheAsshole: u/throwaway478wwx

AITA if I tell my "husband" I love him?

Throw away because my siblings and friends are here. Don't roll your eyes, please. It's very complicated. So I (34M) have been married to my incredible husband Z (34M) for the last 8 years. We went to the same high school but actually ran into different circles. Z, who was a straightA student, didn't like me and my friend circle. Things worsened after I accidentally ruined his science fair project. High school ended with bad blood between us. His older brother, who was a few years senior to us, was my sister's classmate, and he tried to mediate between us, but Z really hated me and would get huffy every time we met.

We met again in Uni. Z seemed more open to the idea of a civil relationship, and things improved tremendously once I gifted him 2 rabbits for his birthday. Z had the cutest crush on our classmate M and would get so flustered when I asked him about M.

In our final year, all of us got very drunk in a party, and I lost the drinking game. As a punishment, I was tasked with safely escorting Z back to our dorm. Just my luck, for such a calm and self-controlled person, Z is an agent of chaos when drunk. We broke into the nearby aquarium to look at the sting-rays, went into a Mcdonald where Z proceeded to buy all the chicken wings as a gift for me and tried to fight a mirror for 'staring at the love of his life'. I somehow managed to calm him down and took him back to the dorm.

Fast forward a year, M suddenly announced her relationship with someone else. I was extremely surprised, but not only Z stoically bore the news, the rest of my friends were very chill about it too. In fact, they seemed more annoyed at me for making a fuss. My angel of a sister, who never spoke a harsh word in her life, told me I was lucky I was so stinking cute.

I tried my best to support Z in this difficult time. We spent most of our free time together. In fact, I invited Z to my sister's wedding to cheer him up. Incidentally, we kinda discovered a big conspiracy to harm Z's brother and his boyfriend, and Z's family was very taken with me. His mom started to joke that she'll steal me to be her own son. Even Z's very stern uncle seemed to soften up.

Finally, M announced her wedding when we were 26. I hastily planned a trip as a means to distract Z. We backpacked and hiked. One night, we got roaring drunk and woke up the next day in bed with each other. Even worse, drunk us thought it was a good idea to apply for a marriage certificate online and make an announcement on Facebook that we were getting married. Our families were blowing up our phones. They asked us how could we do this? How could we exclude them from the happiest day of our life and not give them the chance to celebrate? Before our hungover brains could explain anything, Z's brother was dispatched to retrieve us, and our parents were looking at the wedding venue and cakes.

Our mothers combined are a force to reckon with. I tried to explain things, but mom said she thought she raised me better, and Z's otherwise very kind brother told me he'd feed me into a woodchipper if I backed out of the wedding.

Long story short, we got married that spring. We planned to let things settle a bit, but disaster struck. A friend of ours had a baby cousin whose parents suddenly passed away in an accident. The baby's nearest kin was his grandma, who was very frail and terminal, and my friend didn't have the means to support the baby. Z and I promptly applied to adopt the baby.

Our little radish is almost 9 this year. Z is not only a great dad, but he's an incredibly good husband, too. He's kind, warm, sweet, and patient. He's a wonderful cook. We are compatible in every way, and I mean every possible way. My parents love him. And I think I have fallen in love with him too. But would I be an asshole if I told him that I loved him? We have a good thing going on here. I don't want to rock the boat.

Update 1: Thank you so much for your kind words. I have decided to confess to my husband. Wish me luck.

Update 2: To the person who DMed me calling me "so dumb that light can enter through one ear and exit via another," JC, I know your writing style. Push your luck, and the whole of reddit will know what happened in our third year.

Update 3: So, I told Z that I loved him. He was reading our baby boy's half yearly report. Have I told you guys how handsome he looks with his glasses on? He raised his eyes and said, " And I love 'my name' too. Always have." So I guess that's settled? We have been in love for the last decade? That's good. Thank you for all your support. And I love you too, Jie.

[bluelocksource]

Raichi Jingo’s trivia (source: twt & Egoist Bible).

"Fight to the last!! Keep exchanging shots!! Are you guys even strikers!!?"

☆ Character's colour: Lightning yellow.

☆ Weapons: Gorgeous shooting technique (self-proclaim).

☆ Birthday: 11th October.

☆ Current age: 17 (2nd year of high school)

☆ Zodiac: Libra.

☆ Birthplace: Nagasaki Prefecture.

☆ Family: Father. Mother. Older sister. Himself.

☆ Current height: 182 cm.

☆ Foot size: 28 cm.

☆ Dominant foot: Right foot.

☆ Blood type: A.

☆ Motto: "There is no path ahead of me, (but) there is a path behind me." (this is an excerpt from a poem called ‘The Itenary’/’The Journey’ by Takamaru Kotaro.)

☆ Team before joining BLUE LOCK: Ikarigaoka High School football club.

☆ Starts playing football: At age 7.

☆ Favorite food: Shrimp tempura bowl. “It tastes better if you mix the batter with dashi.”

☆ Disliked food: Kazunoko. “The smell and the texture are nasty.”

☆ Favorite animal: Chameleon. “Do you see how they move their eyes around? Isn’t that cool!”

☆ Favorite season: Spring. “I can’t wait for spring.”

☆ Favorite color: Red.

☆ Favorite football player: Takashi Inui. (Sexy football)

☆ Favorite song: “It’s My Life” by Bon Jovi.

☆ Favorite manga: Baki series. “Boys will immediately gets excited when reading this!"

☆ Favorite movie: The Expandables . "This movie can make you feel stupid."

☆ Fixation: “I'm my own festish.”

☆ Hobby: "Thinking about how many people on this Earth thinks how great I am."

☆ Mushroom shoots vs Bamboo shoots: Mushroom. “Everyone chose bamboo, right? Then I choose mushroom!”

☆ What goes best with rice : Karaage (Japanese-styled fried chicken). “There's disagreement? Come here, I’ll end you!”

☆ Ideal type: Someone who takes a step back and is supportive of him. "Just leave the rest to me!”

☆ What makes him happy: When complimented (anything about him is fine).

☆ What makes him upset: Being made a fool of. ”Fool how? Say it.”

☆ What he thinks his strength is: All of him. ”Huh? Who’s laughing!?”

☆ What he thinks his weakness is: “I’m at loss, I don’t have too many weaknesses… Oi! (Those who laugh) Raise your hand!”

☆ Best subject: P.E. (so far no one beats him in shuttle run)

☆ Dislike/weak subject: Other than P.E.

☆ What made him cry recently: "When I'm about to kick an empty can out of frustration, my shin accidentally hit a guardrail, then I cried."

☆ Usual sleeping time: 7 hours.

☆ What he usually ends up buying from convenience store: Famichiki (fried nuggets from Family Mart).

☆ Place he washes first when taking a bath: Sideburns. "I’m very particular on how I want to grow them."

☆ Number of chocolates received from previous Valentine: 10.

☆ What will he do if received 100 million yen: Live in New York.

☆ What age he stops receiving presents from Santa: At age 10.

☆ What was his last wish from Santa: Super powers. "Something like ‘I wanna be good in football’, ‘Super strength’, ‘Swift foot’. Of course, I didn’t get any of that but I manage to improve my skills."

☆ What will he do during his last day on Earth: Climbing to the top of the Statue of Liberty. “That would be nice."

note: i want to apologize in advance for any mistake made in the translation!

[atonalginger]

I'm Your Huckleberry, Update #4

Howdy, howdy, howdy and happy Shattered Space day! I hope everyone is having a fun day!

Chapters 9 and 10 are now live on ao3. The Birthday is almost here and everyone is busy getting the finishing touches on Ashta Creek and their costumes. Costumes I happen to have concepts for:

Keen eyes will pick out costumes based off of RDR2, Deadwood, and other modern western movies and shows. Unfortunately I don't have concept art for Manny's costume, that one slipped my mind at the time that I did most of these back in the spring/early summer.

To read the latest chapters (9 & 10) you can click HERE!

To start from the very beginning you can click here.

And as always, a snippet under a read more:

“Well howdy, Mayor Delgado,” Jacob Coe said with the tip of his adventure’s hat. 

The old man looked different with his more casual getup, a green and blue flannel shirt tucked into some weathered blue jeans with a bolo tie around his neck. Del was still surprised Bella invited him, even with their occasional dealings. He knew the tension between the old man and Sam as well as his over-protectiveness over his granddaughter. But he was assured the old Coe would behave. 

“I see you wanted in on the fun,” Delgado tapped the silver tips of the bolo tie and smiled, “not many of the parents did.”

“Oh you know how it goes,” Jacob smiled, “they think because they’ve grown up they can’t have fun.”

“Speaking from experience?” Sam came to stand beside them. his attention was on his white cotton gloves, tugging at the edge to smooth out a wrinkle.

“Maybe I am,” Jacob conceded, “surprised Jamie was able to get you into a proper suit.”

“Sophie wanted city slickers visiting the frontier,” Sam shrugged, “who better to fit the bill than the Coes?”

“Except for Cora,” Jacob noted.

“Sophie wasn’t going to force anyone into a dress,” Delgado said as he looked down the path to where Cora was leading the gaggle of little kids toward the firing range as she gave them the grand tour of the town with Daiyu and Jazz alongside, “and while it might have given a certain flair to the trick shot routine she came up with, a dress would likely just get in the way.”

“So is the story that the Coes sent their daughter to Ashta Creek to work?” Jacob asked.

“I believe the story Cora came up with was that she was sent to live with her aunt and get the General Store up and running, which the Coe family finances,” Sam offered a tired grin, “and during her free time she practices out a the range with Calamity Jazz.”

“Calamity Jazz?” Jacob raised an eyebrow.

“My top engineer,” Delgado pointed to Jazz with all her dusty leathers and her dented top hat with the long white tail feather stuck in the ribbon, “when everyone was listening to Doc and Cora’s crash course on old Earth wild west history she became enamored with Calamity Jane.”

“I see,” Jacob said as he looked around the property, “you’ve got solid protections in place.”

“We invited some two dozen kids and their parents into ashta country, of course we have protections in place,” Delgado sounded borderline offended as he met eyes with Shinya leaned against a hitching post next to the saloon. Shinya tipped his hat and gave his duster’s inner pocket a loving pat before wheeling around and slipping back inside. Delgado turned to Jacob, “plus I wouldn’t want any of Bella and Sophie’s chickens getting nabbed.”

“Yes, those would be tasty little treats for the locals,” Jacob said sympathetically, “not to dwell too hard on the matter but how bad is the ashta situation out here?”

“Right now not so bad; it’s too fucking hot,” Delgado watched as parents milled about,  talking to the costumed crew and socializing, “in a few months we’ll have to put the reinforced run back up around the coop. Last autumn, when we first moved in, we had days where we all just stayed inside and watched the ashta roam the property. Zhenya and I are pretty sure there’s a den on the other side of the ridge. And the Mossgnath cross the creek to the west to graze with the ranch smack dab in the middle.”

“And to think your grandfather lived out here alone,” Jacob sounded impressed, “the ranch is older than the manor, correct?”

“Si,” Delgado smiled and waved at Sophie as she skipped past with some of the girls toward the General Store with Manny leading the way, “not by much, but it is. Like most of the founding families, the Delgados staked a claim out in the frontier and worked the land while the walls were built.”

“I still remember how mad your father was over Raphael’s decision to leave the ranch to you,” Jacob shook his head, “not because he wanted it, mind you. Pretty sure he was going to knock the old house down to make space for a warehouse or some nonsense. But instead it sat empty, waiting for you.”

“Probably why Abuelo did it,” Delgado said quietly, “Bastian had already ruined enough.”

Jacob took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow before smoothing back his hair, “no, Raphael did it because he loved you, Gabriel. You were his whole world. Hell, right there at the end, when he’d moved back to the city for treatment, Raphael talked about you all the time. I remember he and Bastian got into it after one of your more spectacular heists made the news. Raphael seemed to relish in throwing your successes in his son’s face. ‘He’s done more with our family name than you ever did,’ Sat outside the manor taunting Bastian for a while before his nurse walked him back to his apartment.”

Delgado laughed to shake the shock off his face, “that so?”

[misteria247]

Something that popped in my head today and now I'm gonna share it wooooo-

Splints had heard of his counterpart's untimely demise. Had seen the photos of the alternate version of himself that hung around the older turtles home. It was a fact that he couldn't ignore, especially when he would see how the older alternates of his sons would give him those brief looks. But there was something fundamentally different from knowing something and actually seeing the proof of said knowledge.

Seeing it in person just made it so much more real than being told it.

Splints, Draxum, April, Cassandra and his sons had been invited to accompany their counterparts to this world's April's farmhouse. A chance to enjoy the coming of spring and soak in nature and sunshine without the fear of possibly being seen. The rat and his family agreed to join them, wanting to enjoy spring in all of its glory. So with the help of Donatello's Shellraiser and Casey's van, the group had left the city in the cover of night and made the journey towards the O'Neil farmhouse. It had been a long drive and by the time they'd gotten to their destination the sun was starting to raise. As soon as the vehicle was parked Splints was already scurrying out to be outside. Cassandra, Mikey, and Raphael weren't too far behind him, followed by April, Donnie, Draxum and Donatello who was the driver. In the van ahead of them, the older April hopped out of the passenger side, while Casey got out of the driver's side. The back of the van opened up, letting out Michelangelo and Leo who both seemed to be breathing a sigh of relief at finally being out. Raph was the next to come out, the large snapper turning slightly back towards the inside of the van to offer a hand. The last occupant, Leonardo somewhat stumbled out of the back, his knee giving him a bit of trouble as he awkwardly grabbed Raph's arm to steady himself a bit. The sounds of the door opening at the large old house sounded out and the red head was quick to go running towards it, nearly tackling the older red headed man. Kirby O'Neil hugged his daughter tightly before greeting his guests and helping them inside. Once they were all settled it was no surprise that everyone had either clocked out or had went towards the kitchen to get some of the breakfast that the older O'Neil had begun putting out.

As the teenagers began to preoccupy themselves and Draxum had went to the couch and proceeded to pass out, Splints decided to go outside. It wasn't often that the older rat was able to get fresh air and sunshine and he wanted to see the sun rise before going to take a nap on the armchair in the house. The short rat quietly snuck out the door, and went down the porch to step out into the yard. Splints took a deep breath in, the sweet scent of mildew and fresh air filling his nose and lungs. His ears and tail flickered in contentment, loving the early morning that he was experiencing. As he made his way into the vast yard, taking in the chickens and the large barn he caught sight of the large tree that sat a little bit further away from the house.

'A perfect place to view the sun rise.'

He mused already changing his direction to head towards the tree. As Splints drew closer to it, the sun's rays began to stretch and light up the countryside. The clouds were against pale skies of pink, orange and blue, the sounds of the birds and animals filling the air. It was during this time as the sun finally began to touch the tree's roots and trunk that Splints finally noticed it. Squinting a bit to see it better, the older rat drew closer to it and began to realize what was sitting at the base of the tree.

It was a grave.

Splints stopped short of a few footsteps from the grave, noting the flowers that had began to grow. Sitting amongst the blossoms was a well tended to photo, a familiar kind yet wise face staring back at him. The rat sensei stared at the grave, the grave of his counterpart of this world. It was surreal seeing the physical evidence of Splinter's death, than being told it. Splints settled himself down onto his knees in front of the grave, closing his eyes and paying his respects to the other rat sensei. Once he was done he stared at the grave once more, letting the silence and gentle breeze overtake him for a moment.

"Hamato Yoshi, I have heard great things about you from your sons."

The short rodent spoke, his voice soft and gentle. Golden yellow hues took in the photo.

"I wish that we could have met under better circumstances. It would have been an honor to meet the man behind the boys who helped mine."

Looking down at his hands Splints began to think about his sons. He thought of Raph, his large but gentle eldest. He thought of Leo, his charismatic and selfless middle child, followed by his twin. He thought of Donnie, his brilliant yet kind hearted one. He thought of Mikey, his chipper and sensitive youngest. He thought of them, of the moment of when he'd first met them to the decades they spent together. His sons who were once no bigger than the size of his hand, who were now near grown men in their own right. Splints thought of them, of the four whom he loved most in the world and then he thought of the older turtles.

He thought of Leonardo, who was wise and kind to his loved ones. Always offering a helping hand to not only his clan, but to Splints' own as well. He thought of Raphael, who was short tempered and who loved so fiercely that he was willing to defend his own. He thought of Donatello, who was a genius and yet kindhearted to the point that he gave it away to his loved ones freely. He thought of Michelangelo who was cheerful and knowing exactly what his family needed. These four boys who helped his sons with zero hesitation, who protected them when Splints hadn't been able too when they'd been separated. These four boys who much like his own, had been loved dearly. These four boys who in the end had ended up losing their father.

Splints knew how it felt, how it felt to lose a parent to the Shredder. He himself had lost his mother when he'd been young, just a child who had still needed her. Splints knew it better than anyone how painful it was, how the wounds never truly healed. And as a father himself, he couldn't imagine his children going through the same thing that he had. Couldn't imagine being torn away from them the way the older ones had, had happen to them. He had heard of spiritual abilities in this world, how similar they were in mystics yet how vastly different as well. Was the Splinter of this world able to come to the living world like Splints' ancestors could? Did he wander, waiting to hear about his sons? Did anyone keep him updated on how they were doing? Questions with no answers filled his mind, and it was then that he decided that he would let Splinter know how his sons were doing. Being a Splinter himself, Splints knew that he would want to know how his sons were doing. Even from beyond the grave.

And so he did.

He told the deceased ninjutsu master everything. From the adventures they'd been on, to how they had helped his sons and sheltered them, to how his sons had grown to admire the older boys and see them as family. Splints told him everything, every little detail, every single moment that he had witnessed and noticed from his time spent around Splinter's sons. The short ninjutsu master was at that grave for a long time, the sun rise now having turned into morning.

"You have done well in raising your boys, Master Splinter. From what I'd seen from them and what I'd been told about you, your boys are a lot like you. There's a special kind of love that they have been given by you and they give it back freely to those around them. I can tell that you loved your sons dearly, just as I love mine. There's a saying that my clan have. Anata wa hitori ja nai, you are never alone. And I'll make sure that your sons, that your clan will never be alone. I know that if the roles were reversed that you would be there for my sons, my clan as well. We may have never met, but it's more than clear that we would do anything for our sons. No matter where they come from."

Splints said softly. He didn't know how he knew this, but deep down he knew that Splinter would have done the same thing that he was doing. That if Splints hadn't made it, then Splinter would have been there to offer a hand to the younger turtles. Because no matter the universe, no matter the time or place, their sons would always be their pride and joy.

"You can rest easily now my friend. Your boys won't be alone. I will make sure of it."

The rodent swore to the silent grave. He knew that in reality the older teens didn't need someone looking after them, knew that they were plenty of capable of taking care of themselves. However Splints would still be there for as long as he was able to be, for both his children in his world and in this world. Splints was interrupted by the sound of his youngest son's voice calling out for him. Splints with a bit of effort picked himself up off of the ground, dusting his robes off before calling back to let Mikey know that he was coming. As the short ninjutsu master made his way back towards his family, a tall ghostly figure appeared next to the tree. His maroon red robes swayed in the morning breeze, a grateful gaze directed towards the retreating back of the his counterpart. A voice, deep but quiet getting lost in the wind and rustling of the tree's branches and leaves.

"Thank you, Hamato Yoshi."

In the next rustling breeze the figure was gone with the wind, leaving behind a grave and its blooming flowers to soak in the warm spring sunshine.

*This probably sucks I'm so sorry but I've just had this thought running around in my head for quite sometime. Seeing as how in Universal Collision, Splints and Splinter can't exactly meet in person so this is the next best thing. This is also probably extremely ooc and I apologize in advance for this I'm a bit rusty in the characterizations of our favorite rat dads lol. Anyways if any y'all read this I hope y'all enjoyed it!!!*

[spgod]

I know it's a lot of questions. You don't have to answer all of them of course I won't be mad. You don't have to answer any of them, but if you want:

4: Do you have siblings?

8: Do you think if you died, the last person you kissed would care?

11: When’s your birthday?

14: Are you wearing jeans, shorts, sweatpants, or pajama pants?

15: Are you a different person now than you were 5 years ago?

16: What were you doing at 4 am?

17: Would you rather write a paper or give a speech?

18: Are you lying to yourself about something?

20: What’s something you cannot wait for?

23: Are you a morning or night person?

25: Do you reply to all of your texts?

30: Favorite thing to eat with peanut butter?

40: Where do you want to live when your older?

46: Is it hard to make you laugh?

51: Have you ever dyed your hair?

56: Sleep on your back or stomach?

57: If you could move away, no questions asked, where would it be ?

61: Today, would you rather go forward a week or back?

66: Are you the type of person who liks to be out or at home?

72: What’s your favorite color?

74: Have you ever been looking for something and it was already in your hand?

75: Do you get annoyed easily?

80: What do you prefer, relationship or one night stand?

81: What color hoodie did you wear last?

4. I have a half brother that I've never met and my sister passed away in 2017.

8. I don't think they would ever find out if I died and I don't think they would care if they did find out.

11. It's in three days 🥳

14. Shorts. "They're comfy and easy to wear!"

15. I think I am mostly the same person. Probably less social.

16. Scrolling Tumblr and playing Pokemon Scarlet.

17. I absolutely prefer to write a paper. Public speaking makes me 🫨

18. Telling myself that I will be okay 😅

20. The fall of capitalism.

23. More early morning person. That 2am - 8am window is my time to shine.

25. I try my best to because I know if I don't reply right away, I might forget about it 😅

30. I use peanut butter in my peanut sauce for spring rolls, so spring rolls 🤤

40. I've enjoyed the thought of living on a small farm where I can raise goats and grow blueberries. Just seems like a nice way to spend my time.

46. I love laughing and almost always find a way to laugh at everything in life.

51. I used to constantly be changing my hair color. I haven't done anything in about 8 years though.

56. I sleep like a rotisserie chicken.

57. Brazil seems like a nice place to be.

61. Forward one week because I'll be over my birthday depression and hopefully we'll have a president elect that isn't a fascist criminal.

66. I love being at home. I love being at friend's homes too.

72. Black. A simple darkness is sublime.

74. Multiple times I've been on the phone while trying to leave the house and I'll start panicking to the person I'm talking to that I can't find my phone.

75. Generally, I do not get annoyed easily.

80. Relationship. I don't really do one night stands because I need a connection with the person before we get to fooling around.

81. Red or Brown. I don't remember which one I wore last 😅

[taylorhawkins]

Hammer Of The Nice, Ordinary Guys

originally for CMJ New Music Monthly, 1997

"Pat and I were into the same exact kind of music," Taylor says--Queen, Pink Floyd, the Police. "It was like having a big sister in the band." Mentioning the Police has triggered something in his head, and he starts playing the drum part to "Next To You" on his legs. "I took the beating for being the new kid for so long," Taylor continues. "'New guy!'"

A snapshot of the Foo Fighters' dressing room: 20 bottles of spring water, 8 bottles of Perrier, a cooler full of soda, Snapple and iced tea, a cooler full of beer (including microbrews), two bottles of merlot, two giant bottles of IBC root beer, three loaves of French bread, several other varieties of bread, pitas, crackers, chips and picante sauce, coffee with sugar, cream and lemons on the side, granola bars, bite-size candy bars, a big stack of towels (one of which Pete is ripping up), a bowl of fresh fruit, another bowl of fresh berries, a few varieties of gum, and a hanging basket in the shape of a bull's head. This last is not in the band's contract, and Taylor is trying to figure out how to wear it.

Note that all this is not dinner--just backstage snack material. (At the end of the night, Pete hijacks a lot of what's left for the tour bus.) For dinner, there's surprisingly good catering--teriyaki chicken, rice, various vegetable and tofu things. As people eat, Taylor is drumming on the table--he eats a bit, then heads up to the drum riser to play some more. There's a Nick Cave tape playing over the PA, which doesn't stop him from taking a crack at "When The Levee Breaks" before the audience starts arriving.

Back in the dressing room, guitar tech Earnie "Guitar" Bailey (everyone says that's legally his middle name) is holding court, telling Nirvana stories--he started touring with them in early '92. After Nirvana ended, he and his wife had a restaurant in Seattle for a year; he sold it, figuring he'd take it easy for a while. And promptly got a call from Dave: "'I'm going on the road next week, wanna come?'"

Dave bursts through the dressing room, wearing a skull mask for no apparent reason and grabbing everyone in his path. Franz, paging through the tour itinerary, looks up: "Dave, why are we going to Sweden in November?"

"Because we need to rock, man! We need to fuckin' rock!" And out he goes.

Earnie, unfazed by the interruption, continues. "It's been interesting watching Dave growing into being the ringleader. At first, he wasn't used to calling all the shots--being the charming frontman. Now he's hilarious when he starts rambling on stage... I wish he'd be the same guy on stage he is on the bus.

"I think the second record's a lot more personal--"

Dave suddenly walks back into the room. Earnie pretends he doesn't notice, and raises his voice a bit: "Of course, the main thing about Dave is to never turn your back on him--he'll fuck you over in a second."

Smirking, Dave attempts to change the subject. "I had these breakfast burritos--for breakfast--"

Taylor interrupts: "Seeing as how they're breakfast burritos--"

Dave whacks him, and the room abruptly degenerates into everyone trying to toss candy-bars and fruit into the bull's-head basket. Then Taylor starts drumming again, this time on the bottles on the food table.

An hour or so later, various Foos and friends are watching the opening band, Verbena, doing their very loud Stones-via-Royal Trux thing on stage. Dave is really getting into them. Franz, backstage, is quizzically examining a box of ginseng that a "runner" has retrieved for the band. Nate, who's been missing for the past few hours, comes back with two huge bags of clothes; he's got a bad toothache and isn't talking much, so he pretty much keeps to himself. Taylor is in the dressing-room bathroom, drumming on the fixtures. He's liking Verbena. "They sound kinda like Nirvana! Bleach!"

By 8:30, the band are finally all in the same room. Let's just say drumsticks are a dangerous thing to have in a dressing room. Dave eventually starts doing a little rhythmic exercise on the wastebasket; Taylor joins him, on the other side of the basket. This, it turns out, is a nightly ritual, a drill to focus their concentration. There are two drummers in this band.

Showtime. The hall, we later find out, is about 3/4 full, but it sure looks fully occupied. They start out the set with both Taylor and Dave playing drums; after a minute, Dave switches to guitar, they go into "This Is A Call," and we get to see the results of all that ginseng. Everybody's leaping around the stage like crazy for the hour-plus set. They do a new one, called "The Colour And The Shape," a fast, Pixies-ish thrasher; they do most of the hits (though not "Big Me"). But the big cheers are for "Everlong." "You get that just right," Nate said earlier, "it's kind of orgasmic, really. It's amazing when it really comes together." In fact, everything comes together--not bad for this lineup's third show.

Nate, on The Colour And The Shape: "It's almost like a concept record, some people say--the lyrics were all written at one period in Dave's life, and they really reflect well what was going on in Dave's life."

Dave's perspective: "Writing lyrics, you're taking something completely intimate and turning it into something completely not-intimate."

Taylor, on Dave: "Do not compliment him. He can't take a compliment."

As it turns out, Taylor isn't even as much of a party animal as all that. As everyone gets onto the tour bus the next morning, Gus asks him what happened with the two women he'd been flirting with at Emo's. "Left 'em there, went back to the hotel, went to sleep."

The inside of the tour bus basically looks like a nice hotel room itself: tasteful curtains, a little couch-and-table setup, a ceiling mirror, a kitchenette with a coffee machine, a set of bunks for people to sleep in (stacked three-high). There's a stereo/VCR in front, another in back. Texas passes by outside. Taylor is up front, chatting with congenial driver Larry Ellis and singing snatches of "Billie Jean." Dave is chatting with Gus: "Did I tell you I found out I ripped off a Def Leppard song? That song 'Hysteria' and 'Everlong.' It's got a line 'breathe out so I can breathe you in.'"

A dialogue:

Gus: Do you guys want to go to Pensacola on your day off and go to the beach?

Dave: Fuck off.

Taylor: Day off after what?

Gus: Read your itinerary!

Taylor: Dude, I wanna go jet-skiin'!

Franz: In the rain?

Taylor: Oh, dude!

Skeeter Thompson, the old bass player of Scream, is coming in from Little Rock tonight--"Scream reunion!" There's some concern over the number of tickets the Dallas show tonight has sold: 1400 for a 3200-capacity venue. The Stones, Gus is quick to remind the band, have only sold 12,000 tickets for a show with Smashing Pumpkins opening, though, so it's not that big a deal. Things are tough all over. The album's down a notch in the charts this week, but there are five big debuts that came in above it--it's actually sold more copies this week than last. Eventually, almost everyone heads back to catch some Z's; Pete stays up front to watch Short Cuts on the VCR.

When the bus pulls into the Bronco Bowl, the converted former bowling alley they'll be playing in Dallas, it's just about soundcheck time, which means, since they're still teaching Franz the songs, that it's time to learn "Big Me." That's basic enough, so they follow up with an Angry Samoans cover that Taylor's never heard either--it's a little weird watching him figure out how to play hardcore. Dave demonstrates the drum break by waving his arms in the air. Taylor has an idea for a slight change in the arrangement of "This Is A Call," so they try it a couple of different ways.

"I don't know if we should do that at the end of every verse," Dave says.

"I think it fucking sucks," Taylor declares, and that's the end of that.

x

[boreal-sea]

So I like playing Sims 4 Decades/Legacy challenges, where basically you start in 1890 and try to get to modern day. There's a bunch of rules, but I enjoy making it as hard as possible.

My last attempt ended tragically, and I wanna share it with y'all.

It started off promisingly: the two founders arrived as winter rolled in, and though the first winter was brutal with only a tent and some seeds, they managed to scrounge up enough money and food to make it through. The two original Brisbys had a son (Moses) and several daughters (who went off and got married). Moses successfully married a woman named Helen and he and his wife had already given birth to their first child, a daughter named Iris. Helen was pregnant with their second child.

With the onset of winter I did a death roll for everyone to simulate winter illnesses. It didn't go well, and that was the start of the end.

Who was living on the farm as this dark winter closed in:

Grandpa Brisby

Grandma Brisby

Moses Brisby (eldest son)

Helen Brisby (Moses' wife, pregnant)

Iris Brisby (Moses and Helen's eldest child)

As winter took hold, Grandmother Brisby and her son, Moses Birsby both died of illness (aka they failed their death rolls).

In midwinter, Helen gave birth - a son (Fletcher), an heir for the Brisby family. Helen survived the birth.

Grandfather Brisby died naturally of old age as winter came to a close.

As spring arrived, Helen was alone with a newborn and a toddler, several chickens, a cat, and a cow, all depending on her. She was struggling. She was constantly tired and filthy, her enjoyment of life was at zero, the animals were doing poorly, and she needed help. So, she managed to find herself a new husband. Darrin Quentin stepped up to the role of father and everyone was doing very well. As spring rolled into summer Iris aged up into a child, Fletcher aged into a toddler and began to eat solid food, and Helen became pregnant with Darrin's child.

(I play that women who are breastfeeding can't get pregnant. IRL this is not a perfect form of birth control but it does work fairly well).

Now, one thing I've taken from the harder rules is that if I notice the Sims exhibiting symptoms of illness (dizzy head, etc), I do a death roll.

Helen went out to the bee hive - it had been neglected over the winter. She'd never cared for the bees, but there were mites and plenty of honey to collect, so it needed tending. She wore the beekeeper suit just in case. However, as she was walking away from the beehive, she got dizzy... and I had to roll. She failed the roll, and she died while carrying Darrin's child. I imagine this story-wise as she died from an allergic reaction to a bee that stung her as she was taking off the bee suit.

Now Darrin was alone on the farm, and he was actually managing fairly well because Iris was now a child and could help with most of the farm chores, leaving him to do his best in his grief to raise Fletcher... Until Darrin got sick, too. And with a bad roll, he died as well - perhaps from grief. And the game ended because there were no more adults on the lot.

Fun observation: I use MCCC (MC Command Center) to do deaths, because getting a cow plant is a pain in the ass. I was able to see something interesting when I clicked on Helen to set her her to die. The Sims 4 sets pregnant sims to "immortal" while they're pregnant. I gather this means things like fire, repeated lightning strikes, hunger, etc, cannot kill them while they're pregnant. MCCC can still kill them, obviously, it was just a fascinating observation.

[abbatoirablaze]

Down The Rabbit Hole, Chapter 6

Word Count:  1.3k

Warnings:  mentions of guns (Paintball), mentions of sex/smut, angst.

The two of them hadn’t talked since the kiss. 

Jeff had tried to focus all of his attention anywhere else but her, and in the time that had passed, the only thing that really happened was him and Britta starting an argument with some high schoolers. 

His ego had taken a dramatic hit after being turned down by Tawney; something he didn’t think was possible. 

She was a slightly nerdy, inexperienced woman.  And he was an attractive, once very successful former lawyer. 

It should have been a cakewalk for him.

And because of that, he threw himself at Britta all over again, which made Tawney start to ignore the study group. 

And in turn, ignore her boyfriend.  So much so that they never reconciled after Abed’s leading of the chicken tender mafia. 

Which was how she also ended up helping out with Duncan, setting up for the Spring fling.  They’d set up the food, music, and activities, but were shell-shocked when the dean started talking about the game of paintball. 

He’d explained that the prize was going to be priority registration, and that the last man standing would win. 

And just like that, the campus turned into pandemonium.  People ran for the tables of paintball guns, and the belts of paint.  People split off.  They turned on one another like animals. 

And Tawney felt her instincts kicking in.  All of the training that her parents had given her, the countless hours of being taught how to survive throughout anything, came to the forefront of her mind. 

Her mom’s paranoia hit her all at once.  And it was like she was a small child once more.

“Tawney you have to know what to do in the event that I can’t protect you.”

“Mommy I just want to go home,” she whimpered softly, pushing her hair out of her face.  Dirt smudged her cheek.  She looked to her mother who gave her a sad frown, and to her older brothers who were already building a lean-to, “mommy this isn’t fun…”

“It’s not meant to be fun, Tawney,” she sighed, shaking her head as she pushed the rifle into her daughter’s hands, “you’re five now.  That means you don’t get to stay home with daddy anymore.  You have to be prepared!”

“But mommy-“

“No buts,” she replied curtly, cutting her off, “you’re in charge of dinner…I’m going to show you how to track a deer while staying clear of the mountain’s natural predators.”

She grabbed a gun, and a belt, and bolted.

Priority registration.

That would allow her to schedule all of her classes, first choice in making sure that she would have everything she needed. 

Behind her, she could hear the screams of her fellow classmates.  Running into the student lounge area she noticed Annie, wide-eyed and nervous.  Her guns raised.  Annie held her hands up in defense.

“You didn’t grab anything?”

“N-no time!” she said quickly, “Britta and Shirley said they would grab some and I said I’d find a safe space for us.”

Tawney tossed one of her guns at her, “take this.  If they have guns for you, you can give me it back.  Let’s hide in the men’s room.”

“The men’s room?” she asked as Tawney pushed her in, “wh-why the men’s room?”

“Come on!” she replied, pulling her along.  Behind her the door opened, and Tawney immediately pushed Annie behind herself and raised her gun.  Shirley screamed while Britta held her gun up.

“IT’S US!”

“Tawney don’t shoot them!”

Tawney lowered her gun and looked at the pair.  True to Annie’s word they had two guns for themselves and two for Annie.  Annie immediately ran to them and wrapped her arms around Shirley, “you guys are alive!”

“Come on…we’ll hide in the men’s room!”

“Why the men’s room?”

“Guys are idiots…we can pick em off when they least suspect it!”

“Good thinking!” Britta smiled. 

“How did you guys manage to last so long anyways?”

“Tawney’s idea!” Britta smiled, looking over at her, “she suggested we hide in there and pick the guys off…”

“Tawney-“

“Shh-“ she muttered, not daring to take her eyes away from the library in front of her, “we need to set up a place for the night…and the study room has the best chance of being a stronghold right now…we need to go there.”

“Tawney, I’m bleeding.  We need to go to-“

“I’ll get supplies and you and Britta set up the study room,” she offered as they reached the door, “it’ll be easier for one  person to sneak around downstairs without getting noticed…plus you two have been arguing all day…it’ll only draw attention and make us targets if you get loud in the halls.”

“Looks like Winger and Perry are getting jiggy with it in the study room!” Chang smirked, pointing his gun at her.  Tawney bit her bottom lip in an attempt to stop it from warbling. 

She had known that Jeff was a bit of a man-whore but she’d felt like he really did like her when he kissed her. 

Only, at the time, she’d been dating Abed. 

Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach and she dropped the roll of gauze and tape, “well…what are you waiting for, Chang…shoot me already and get it over with.”

“You like Winger, don’t you?” he scoffed, dropping the barrel of his gun ever so slightly.  Her head shot up and he shook his head, “ you know I could overlook a lot…I could shoot a toddler right now with this thing and steal their bottle, but I can’t shoot you.  Not with how pathetic you look…I’ll let you slide for now…gonna go right on into the study room and take out your little crush and his hookup…and then I’ll take care of you…”

She waited for a moment, not moving as the Spanish teacher slid past her, and towards the doors.  The noises had stopped and she sniffled once more, “Chang…”

“Yeah Shakira?”

“When you take them out…I’ll be waiting outside the dean’s office for you…and then I’m going to take you out.”

“I’d like to see you try…” he chuckled, preparing his gun as he started walking back towards the study room. 

Tawney, meanwhile, made her way down the side entrance and towards the stairs.  She could hear the sound of his machine gun starting up and part of her felt a little bit guilty for letting Jeff and Britta get surprise attacked like that.

But then she thought about the noises she’d heard coming from the study room.

Jeff was having sex with Britta…and the more that Tawney thought about it, she became angry.

Jeff had probably just been using her to get even with Britta.  To make her feel like she had to step in and do something.

Britta was territorial like that.

As she made her way down the hallway towards the dean’s office she heard it. 

“DEANNNNNN!”

“Shit.”

She ran towards the door and threw it open, seeing Dean Pelton.  His eyes went wide, “TAWNEY!  You’re still in the game?”

“It’s down to me and Jeff, and I’m going to lay it on the line right now!” she said quickly, “he’s pissed at you for all of this…and he’s coming down here.  You’ve got two options.  I help you, or I don’t!”

“DEAN!”

“Oh god, please help me!” he exclaimed nervously as he ran to her.  She closed the door quickly as he latched onto her arm, “Tawney, you have to help me!”

“Go back behind your desk,” she ordered, “as far as he knows…he’s the last player in the game!  Go with it!”

“Okay!”

He ran back around to his desk, and she hid behind the door, just as Jeff burst through. 

And boy did he look like hell. 

“I can explain!” Dean Pelton began quickly.

“Oh…you don’t have to!” Jeff smirked, crazily.  Tawney slid out from behind the door, spotting the gun he’d had attached to his back, and she pulled it off him just as he went to reach for it.  Jeff was quick to spin on his heel, eyes wide as he saw Tawney; the gun poking him in the chest.

“Game over, Winger!”

And she pulled the trigger.

Chapter 7

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @mckeeee-1

[emeraldgreaves]

Infamous asks! Band name, baby, tattoo, fame for whichever or both of your MCs?

i can write quick answers to these, i naively said about the new OCs before proceeding to do short paragraphs for each.

｡°✩ Infamous MC ask game ✩°｡⋆

Band name: How did they and the others come up with the band name? Has the name changed since it was founded?

Accounts vary as to how and when Stopwatch became Stop The Clock; Tatiana thinks it was Rowan, Rowan thinks it was Iris, Iris thinks it was Seven, and Seven is no longer around to settle the argument. Everyone largely agrees that it was sometime during spring semester of senior year, when the prospect of being an adult started feeling very, very real. Lina and the Seven Sparks was what Lina scribbled in cursive on the call sheet. The cursive led to Luna and the Seven Sparks (yes, they were aware there weren't seven of them). When Seven dropped out, they tried out Luna and the Sparx before someone pointed out the resemblance to Spanx. Under Orion's guidance they switched to SPVRKS to go along with the genre shift. There's some grumbling about it feeling too mainstream, but they're in the BOTB, so they're not complaining too much.

Baby: How do they feel about Jazzy leaving? How are they coping? What are their plans to stay in touch?

Tatiana was accepting of it on the surface; she's chasing fame, but not everyone is, and if Jazzy wants a more normal life then that's her decision. It does prod at the gnawing insecurity she's had since Seven left, the idea that a slow crumble is just as effective as an explosive breakup. But that's not going to stop her from texting her Jazzy a selfie from each city. Lina was understanding but privately devastated; I think Jazzy was the one who best understood some of her anxieties about how things have played out as they moved upwards. But on the flip side, I think she was one of Jazzy and Chris's biggest supporters in the early days; there's definitely a love song inspired by their relationship somewhere in her notebook that she'll ask their permission to include on the next album.

Tattoo: Did they keep the tattoo with Seven’s initials? Why/why not? What was that decision/execution process like? (Bonus: What do they think of Seven keeping their tattoo?)

Tatiana kept it. I think on some level she knows that seeing Seven's initials every day is keeping her from moving on, but she can't quite bring herself to get it covered permanently. Tour might be the last straw depending on how things play out. (Seeing that Seven hasn't removed it threw her for a loop; she fully expected it to be covered by now. Either way, a leather cuff bracelet is now permanently part of her stage outfit. Let's see how Seven likes wondering about her for a change.) Lina kept it because she's too chicken to go through the removal process, lol. Sitting in a chair and willingly getting poked with needles was already her ultimate sign of love for her best friend. She was surprised to see Seven's still intact, but fully expects them to pretend that the LXV on their wrist just means that 65 is their favorite number.

Fame: Do you think your character will enjoy fame? Do they think they will? What elements do you think they might struggle with? Do you think they’ll be happy at the end of this road?

Tatiana will. It's going to be a harder transition for her than she thinks, almost a second coming of age; proximity to Maya in particular will really hammer home that she's becoming a role model for a group of kids who are probably feeling as vulnerable as she used to be. She'll love it, though. So much of her preteen identity was tied up in being a Misfit Alley bandom kid that making it big will finally give her a way to give back to the community basically that raised her. If Lina stops chanting to herself that she's doing it for the music, she'll probably have a breakdown. Going mainstream means a bigger audience, but it that comes with more pressure and more eyes, most of which she wasn't comfortable with in the first place, especially as primary songwriter. She's acutely aware that having creative control also means putting her friends' futures in her hands, and that she's going to have to put her big girl pants on and deal with it if they're going to last. Whether she'll make it remains to be seen.

[warningsine]

https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/wildfire-destroys-20-brasilia-forest-arson-suspected-2024-09-04/

BRASILIA, Sept 4 (Reuters) - Firefighters succeeded on Wednesday in reducing the extent of a massive wildfire that blazed for two days and destroyed 20% of a forest in the Brazilian capital, cloaking the city in clouds of gray-white smoke, according to officials, who suspect that it may have been started by arsonists.

The National Forest of Brasilia is a conservation area that extends over 5,600 hectares of woodland that protects the springs that are the source of 70% of the city's freshwater.

The fire broke out at the peak of the dry season when vegetation is parched and temperatures high allowing flames to spread fast.

"We have put out three of the four blazes and we hope to have the fire under control by the end of the day," said Fabio dos Santos Miranda, who manages the forest.

"We are sure this was an environmental crime, but we haven't confirmed if it was intentional or not," he said in an interview, adding that three suspected arsonists were seen in the area where the fire started.

Firefighters struggled to contain the forest fire and stop it spreading to adjacent orchards where farmers grow tomatoes and flowers.

"We are working to protect the orchards, but the wind is blowing the fire towards them and the sparks fly a long way." said fireman Major Godoy.

Emilia Vasconcellos, who raises cattle and chickens on a farm at risk of being caught in the blaze, said she thought people had set off the fire to clear land for themselves, but she had no evidence.

The forest was cut in size by almost half in 2022 to give way to urban development by the government of far-right former President Jair Bolsonaro, who reduced environmental controls and allowed deforestation to surge in the Amazon rainforest.

A record drought in the Amazon increased fires in the rainforest for the month of August to the highest level since 2010, government data showed on Sunday.

Last year's rains came late and were weaker than usual because a weather pattern, known as El Nino, was supercharged by climate change, leaving the rainforest especially vulnerable to this year's fires.