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Planet Puppet! A Weekend At The Ventriloquist Convention

— Mina Tavakoli | Published in Issue 49 : Rerun | Publication Date Winter 2025

Vent Haven Museum, Fort Mitchell, Kentucky. Photo by Phillip Jones. Courtesy of Vent Haven Museum.

A Half-Nude, Three-Foot Figure called me to a table just beside the vending machines. His T-shirt and shoes were miniature; his legs — kielbasa-shaped, cotton-stuffed — were fixed to a flat pubis. “I’m Dicky!” he squeaked.

I wagged my pen in front of his tight little face. “Dicky,” I repeated. He nodded. His plastic eyes stared back with the cool, lightly mocking look I sometimes saw in medieval portraits of Christ. Dicky was not exactly soothing, not exactly ugly — what was he, evil? Holy? Sexy?

“I love you,” I tried. “I love you, Dicky.”

It was right then, right as Dicky’s jaw flung open, that his ventriloquist — his father, his frère, his semblable; the standard abbreviation going forward is vent — sneezed. At that second, Dicky did too. The vent trumpeted into his tissue and held it in front of his wooden child, who did the same, loudly and juicily. After I bent back down to kiss Dicky’s cheek, he flapped his arms, murmured “Mother!,” and sank limply to the table.

Dicky’s daddy’s hand was shoved somewhere near Dicky’s brain stem. My throat was in my stomach. Their hearts were in vaudeville. But we were all in Kentucky. Side by side by side, we stood near the entrance of the Vent Haven Ventriloquist ConVENTion — the annual international hajj for ventriloquists — where dummies condomed nearly every right arm. Dummies were rising from zippered suitcases, lifted from velvet-lined trunks, coffined on banquettes with protective canvas bags on their heads, like prisoners expecting execution. Dummies congested every visible cranny of the Erlanger Holiday Inn in a huge interspecies fiesta of dwarves, worms, baboons, children, et cetera.

The human delegation was only slightly less mixed. Many attendees were entertainers — clowns, cruise-ship performers, Santa impersonators, balloon artists (known in the trade as “twisters”), theme-park proprietors, theme-park employees, and (hugely overindexed) magicians — clapping one another on the back and nodding like Marines celebrating dockage on home soil. Most of the males were adult men. Most of the females were prepubescent. T-shirts read I ♥ MY WIFE and I ♥ YOUR WIFE and I’M NOT OLD — I’M CLASSIC! but these credos hardly needed spelling out. Neither hate nor time was supposed to have purchase in this Holiday Inn, because this was the ConVENTion’s welcome reception, where the cream of ventdom was swarming the warm and ferny lobby to relive the lives and re-die the deaths of the vaudeville era in the pursuit of snapping consciousness in two.

“I’ll Retire To Florida, fish, shoot some golf, play a little bridge, whatever. I’ve been calling the shots for sixty-some years, and God help me, I’ll call them for another twenty.”

The man with the chef’s hat and meatball puppet was barely registering his acquaintance, who was gesturing toward heaven with a puppet in the shape of an ear of corn. That was Job, the unlucky cob. The man in the chef’s hat bore Meatball, a loud Italian American meatball who calmed hospital patients and veterans through a nest of spaghetti. Just past the gurgle of the lobby fountain was Barbie Q. Chicken, a 4-year-old bird who was both Broadway prima donna and antibullying activist. Beside the wall of potted plants was Danny, an underweight and barefoot hillbilly from the mountains of West Virginia, and further beyond him was Herman the Worm (pronounced “Hoiman Da Woim”), a cross-eyed caterpillar made out of a dryer vent hose. Beep, a monkey, was kitty-corner, behind me were Doodle the toad and the handsomely breasted showgirl Miss Trixie, and now approaching with tensed biceps was Rocco, the muscular pit bull from Staten Island. Each was, and I understand that this sounds stupid, tremendously human: some had that sort of vaporizing charisma; some, one could tell, had the limper, more sheepish personalities of those whose lives are defined by long stretches of extreme silence. As the lobby mushroomed with figures of felt, wood, and PVC tubing, they formed a great chorus of flopsy and glabrous creatures that would not shut up.

“He never had his name in Who’s Who, but he did have his name in What’s That?! Ladies and gentlemen: Hugo Higgins!” — Tweet

First-timers formed lines against the marble — our official title was “red dotters,” after the distinguishing round stickers on our name tags — with a special nudity. We were welcomed, accosted, tenderly harassed. Being nipped on the nose by a puppet feels a lot like being bitten by dirty laundry. Children jeered and fought fruitless proxy wars with their companions; several human couples — their own puppets seated beside them like shrunken duplicates, only to be doubled again in the fountain pool — laid their heads against one another in honeymoonish swoon.

Men, eager to know what brought me to ventriloquism, showed me photos of daughters, wives, dogs, farms. Men, who were not full-timing entertainers, were retired dental hygienists, hairdressers, firefighters, ranchers. Retired anythings. For four days out of a pointless year they could surrender to a ritual that has been in institution since 1975, the routine of which made it unshocking that someone would show up after a year having acquired or relieved themselves of weight, alcohol, God, spouse, YouTube channel, gig, sleep-apnea device.

“Hell,” announced a vent holding a Santa wearing pajamas. “You’re bald now?”

The man with the corn puppet sighed and lowered the vegetable behind his back. “I saw a photo of myself on Facebook after a kid’s show,” he said, patting the crown of his head with his free hand. “They got me from behind. I had my wife shear off what was left.”

Murmurs snaked through the crowd: one of the larger wooden puppets in the center of the room was being released from its burlap head sack. Rocco — again, the dog with biceps — pointed me in his direction. “That’s a real McElroy — the Cadillac of hard puppets,” he whispered. Two men stood by with their phone cameras on flash; one vent with a fat Viking puppet pretended to fall faint to the floor.

A cop from Long Island gave a low whistle at the princely dummy. “It’s a beautiful thing,” he said to me, smiling and gesturing broadly toward the din. I agreed. There was so much warmth, so much camaraderie, so much strange puppet-to-puppet antagonism in the air, and — I added with special emphasis — I just loved that Meatball.

The officer looked at me sternly. “The meatball guy?” he said, louder. “I gave him the phrase ‘Don’t touch the balls’ and he’s been using that for years. That bastard’s here?”

Northern Kentucky was never exactly a likely mecca for the ventriloquial arts. In the 1920s, barrooms across the nation boomed with the surrealist showbiz acts of American vaudeville. From Midwestern saloons and small-town beer halls to New York’s glitzy Palace Theater, most cities welcomed troupes where magicians charmed, plate spinners spun, contortionists contorted, and ventriloquists — like the aforementioned McElroys and their fabulous dummies, native to Cincinnati — threw their voices across club circuits that sold the business of analog enchantment. When the theaters darkened in the Depressive ’30s, televised variety shows shuttled ventriloquism safely to the entertainment capitals of Los Angeles and New York, though the rise of more sophisticated special effects began to render dummies anachronistic as early as the mid-’60s. By the early ’70s, when vent-prominent programs like The Ed Sullivan Show had sunsetted to make way for sitcoms, the ventriloquist-and-dummy act was already approaching something like near-obsolescence.

A tile salesman, one William Shakespeare Berger, homed his collection of dummies in his garage in Fort Mitchell, Kentucky. Before his passing, in 1972, he donated his entire estate to establish Vent Haven, the world’s only museum devoted to ventriloquiana. The Vent Haven ConVENTion, now in its forty-ninth year, is presently six miles away from the original site of Berger’s family home, and functions as ventriloquism’s true earthly haven: its seat of philanthropy, shelter, and quasi-religious pilgrimage.

In the first hours of ConVENTion 2024, Vent Haven’s new executive director, a man named Jimmy Vee, stood before us. This was his inaugural year at the helm — the former exec, Mark Wade, who had been billing himself as the King of Kid Show Ventriloquism since the ’90s, was now 74, and had taken a comfortable aristocratic pose in a chair against the wall. Jimmy, who was yelling, risible, and (this is a neutral statement of fact, but readily abused as a punch line across the next few days) markedly shorter than average height, was master and commander in the ballroom, radiating manic, peachy, even utopic optimism for the form’s future.

“I want to share something Jimmy said to me earlier. He said, ‘Get out of my way,’ and I thought it was very moving, because I moved.” — Tweet

“Red DOTS! Hello and WELCOME to your ORIENTATION! Now, there are no BAD seats in the house,” he boomed, among the puce carpentry that banked the stage and curtains, which were also puce. Vent Haven’s insignia, a two-foot ring encircling a portrait of Jacko, a monkey puppet in a bellhop’s velvet jacket and pillbox hat, was fixed above the stage like a cross in a chancel. “Mark, our last director, always said every seat is a good seat. And that’s TRUE!”

Most of my brethren were children, at least a dozen, each of them flanked by at least a single set of parents. A child with a dragon puppet rocketed his arm up, hand still lodged in the dragon’s back.

“I wanted to say, if you got a quote-unquote ‘bad seat,’” the boy announced, eunuch voiced, “then you’ve just gotta find the best in it.”

“That’s RIGHT! He’s exactly right!” went Jimmy, screaming with pleasure. “Absolutely! YES!”

Towering beside Jimmy was a man named Ken, author of the how-to manual Creating a Character: The Off-Road, Uncensored Version (published 2012, 48hrbooks.com), hundreds of copies of which were arranged in small mounds for us outside the conference room. (From his text: “Three laughs per minute is what you want to start with, and then build your laughs per minute — your ‘L.P.M.’ — up from there.”)

“I don’t want to kill anyone’s enthusiasm,” Ken said, taking the mic, “but for you folks just starting out here, it’s not the puppet, OK?” (From the text: “If you don’t want to work hard, get out of the ventriloquist game. Go into magic or clowning; they take no talent or much skill.”)

Ken was one of a dominant type of wizened personality at the ConVENTion: a tired-wristed, sixtyish male who jobbed inside cruise ships and conference rooms, who ran the performance circuit of smart-talk-in-the-afternoon-style shows in the ’90s, and now sells expertise to a tapering audience.

“I cut a hole in a tennis ball, put googly eyes on it, and it took me all over the world. I’ve been to fifty-nine countries with it. Get this into your head and get out there — it’s not the puppet! And it’s all in the book!” (The copy from his DVD reads, “TAKE Ken HOME with you . . . PLEASE!!”)

Men And Women behind me were grunting, lowing like cattle. We were all grunting, lowing like cattle. This was Vent 101, a workshop designed to coach red dotters through the basic tactics of the art. Together, we were unveiling the core of the ventriloquial mystery by practicing the letter B with our teeth clamped together.

The general act of learning ventriloquism is tedious, because the puppet is an instrument, and only one half of the theater routine. It is an ancient art, a maze of gestures and shadow gestures, biblical if not Delphic in provenance. I can only describe it as cousinish to learning the violin and getting very good at whistling at the same time. Nimble fingers tweak at little pinches and squeeze-boxes stuck inside the cavities of the ventriloquial dolls, regardless of whether they’re the standard, wooden manikin type (called “hard puppets”) or the squishier, usually more zoological ones (our “soft sculptures”), while the tongue operates flawlessly under confinement. These little hummingbird motions, behind their cage of clenched, unmoving teeth, continue the joke inherent in the word ventriloquist, from the Latin venter (“belly”); loqui (“to speak”); “belly-breathing,” or the illusion of voice from elsewhere.

There is no real “throwing” of the voice, alas; the ear’s deficits are made up for by the eye, which focuses on the puppet’s moving jaw, forming the suggestion that whatever’s being said by you is said by your companion. The most problematic letters of the alphabet — there are five of them — inspire too much frottage between lips, which explains why puppets often have jeery, whiny, heavily accented, broken, or otherwise goofy voices: these are coping mechanisms, rerouted into hallmarks of the form.

Take the letter p, an annoying plosive. Under the standard ventriloquial straitjacketry of (1) a relaxed jaw, (2) slightly open but stiffened lips, and (3) a closed set of teeth, a phrase like “I like to hike” is shockingly easy to pronounce, whereas “I prefer puppetry” is humbling. To dodge the automatic, upper-to-lower-lip kiss involved in expressing the letter p, ventriloquists hump the back of the tongue against the soft palate and vault air right through the back. In practice, this sounds much like the letter t. The ventriloquist thinks p, says their muffled t, and does this ad nauseam until the letter is strong and clear. (“I trefer tuttetry.”)

Tonight’s tutelage was hosted by a man named Dan. His road-to-ventriloquial-Damascus moment was in 1965, care of a life-changing encounter at a Phoenix amusement park with Curly Q, a dummy belonging to the visiting Miss America pageant winner of that year. “I just about collapsed when I saw him. I was 5 years old,” he told us proudly. “But what about you all? Why vent? What’s your reason? And can you all hear me OK?”

Some wanted to do it because they’d joined a church ministry; many wanted to be able to tell stories to their grandchildren. One man raised his hand and announced that he’d always dreamt of a career in stand-up comedy, but felt too nervous to stand solitary onstage. Dan nodded understandingly. “When I’m up there without my puppet, I feel kind of exposed. And when I have one of my characters with me, I can relax a little bit more, and I can feel like I’m sharing the failure with somebody else if that’s what happens. I don’t take the full burden.”

We moved through the hard letters noisily. A few of the more gifted and seasoned in the back of the room were capable of showing me an elegant, dummy-free trick called “bifurcating,” where a ventriloquist speaks with lip movements that completely mismatch the sentence spoken. This has the terrific effect of looking like a flesh-and-blood human speaking with a laggy network connection, or someone being dubbed in a foreign-language film in real time.

The Other Four Difficult Letters, As Annotated by Dan:

F: The user-friendly “eth” skips over the tooth-and-lip problem of f. (Dan: “Now, the word ‘friend’ was hard for me in the beginning, so I always said ‘buddy.’ Just made things easier.”)

B: Typically, the lips curl, mash, and birth b. G gets around this manfully: we say g, but think b. (We gargled our way through the ventriloquist’s hallmark malapropism: “I’d like a gottle of geer.”)

M: A relentlessly labial letter. N is more than good enough, probably the easiest to pretend to say. (Dan: “Another help in fooling your audience is if the ventriloquist has already said the word. Maybe you’d say ‘I love magic tricks.’ Then, your dummy could say something like ‘Nagic tricks are ny favorite, too.’”)

V: Reroute this into “th.” (“I found I could do it better when my puppet Orson was flirting with a lady in the audience. Say her name was ‘Victoria.’ I could go” — and here he went into a nasal, singsong pitch — “Thhhhhicktorrria!”)

Behind The Velvet Curtains, Vinnie, the law enforcement officer who had beef with Meatball, was preparing four ventriloquists for the inaugural evening show. His arms, sized and shaped like petite country hams, were wrapping cables and wires, clipping microphones to collars, and shuttling his performers into sweaty file. “If you do anything out of line,” Jimmy Vee announced to the audience at the top of the evening, “don’t be surprised if Vinnie taps you on the shoulder, and, you know, threatens your life.”

Verbally, it turns out that the ventriloquial diet is surprisingly lean. Jokes are tight and quick burning, largely because long-form bloviating is wasted on the microscopic attention spans of children under 10, or drunk audiences at timed open mics. Instead, low-stakes flirtation with any visible woman, disgust toward any visible male, and jokes with infuriatingly corny payoffs — what civilians now call “dad jokes” — are the meat and potatoes of the act. An exchange between Jeff , 28, a veteran vent who’d been coming to the ConVENTion for at least a decade , and Tony Bronchitis, his Galápagos turtle with a voice like Joe Pesci’s , went like this:

“OK, OK, I’ve got one for you. Did you know that Albert Einstein was a serial killer?” Tony asks.

Jeff shrugs. “I wasn’t aware.”

“I have no evidence, really,” goes Tony, “but he’s got his theories, and I have mine.” He bounces gleefully as the crowd boos. “It is a groaner, it really is.”

Nigel, who can be found most weekdays performing near the entrance to the American Eagle Outfitters flagship location in Times Square, approached the stage with a suitcase. His child was Miss Cindy Hot Chocolate: a rude little girl with a high, squeaky voice I would most quickly associate with someone’s awful niece.

“I’m trying to work on my performance,” he says desperately to her.

“You’re not that good no more,” she says. “Look at you, you’re stressed.”

All throughout the night, the mood onstage was pugnacious grading into the homicidal. Antagonisms — alarmingly relentless, restless antagonisms — were exchanged with puppets that were cruel, podunk, irascible, wily, horny, whiny, stubborn, dumb, deaf, preadolescent, or old. Maegan, a brunette vent as facially acrobatic as a young Lucille Ball, tangled with her dolly, Jody, in a fascinating argument about whether or not Maegan was “believable as a ventriloquist.” Tony and Jeff were embattled over the phrase “you suck.” Nigel looked helplessly at the audience as Miss Cindy mopped the floor with him.

“You seem distracted,” she says.

“It’s a lot of pressure,” he responds, visibly sweating.

Cindy points at the audience. “This ugly man’s falling asleep.”

“There’s a lot of people here. Please make me look good.”

“That’s impossible,” she says.

Here was the puppet master’s pas de deux: between id and superego, between the ecstatic lunacy in which we spend our childhoods and the self-doubt in which we spend most of the years thereafter. These private flailings were almost movingly psychotherapeutic to witness, as the puppet — which worked like a conduit, or a crowbar — cracked open the shadow districts typically locked up in the unconscious, turning them into patter.

Like an angel from stage right came Ed. Ed, 85, retired from the trade but back for the evening, sauntered on like he poured the concrete, laid the Sheetrock, signed the lease for, and shook hands with everyone involved in the creation of this Holiday Inn. “We’ve just got a word from the front desk,” he announced in a suit, tie, and cummerbund. “There’s a ventriloquist from Oklahoma who will not be here tonight, and he’s 111,” he said, reading from a note card. “Oh” — he looked back at the audience — “I mean, he’s ill.”

Ed killed. Ed murdered. Ed was to ventriloquism what crime is to jail: Ed was the reason. “He never had his name in Who’s Who,” he announced, unveiling his dummy from a leather trunk, “but he did have his name in What’s That?! Ladies and gentlemen: Hugo Higgins!”

Ed and Hugo were a reminder of the vaudeville pleasure of the act, if not quite the whole metaphysical thing where man and object fused together in one perfect flow state. They were a paean to ventriloquy’s ancient design. Hugo was a low-cost special effect, specifically engineered to charm, and the combination of Ed’s dopey majesty, Hugo’s creaturehood, and the dinky, dazzling mixture they made — it got the joke off every time. Ex.:

Ed: “You like girls, I gather?”

Hugo: “No, I like girls that I gather.”

Audience: [Laughter, cheering, ovation]

“It’s been my life’s pleasure to do this with you all,” Ed said, setting Hugo on the cushioned perch of a nearby stool. “I always liked to end my shows with a poem, so I’d like to do so right now. It’s called ‘The Touch of the Master’s Hand.’”

The ballad was a short fable involving a scene at an auction house. An auctioneer, trying to rush past the sale of an old and worthless violin, suddenly saw the price of the instrument rocket after a maestro rose to coax out its music. Ed delivered the clinching stanza directly into the stage lights —

The Master comes, and the foolish crowd

Never can quite understand:

The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought,

By the touch of the Master’s hand.

— while Hugo, who waited mutely beside him, stared at the audience in what I would not consider total silence.

Night. The rigor-mortised bodies of miniature men and barnyard animals settled in the plastic chairs of the Hospitality Room, a windowless territory in the southern horn of the Holiday Inn that functioned as Vent Haven’s tiny Xanadu. Here, shelves groaned with Golden Oreos and value-size Lay’s, though the true milk of paradise lived in the mahogany-paneled open bar, staffed by men and women eager to know if you wanted anything, or more of anything, or if you wanted a thing of Fireball with whatever.

Winchell seemed to pose a counterargument against the idea that the solitary body we were given was all we needed. Mahoney was Winch, and Winch, Mahoney. — Tweet

For the next six or so hours, as the room grew deafening, the general shit shooting and shot ripping was punctuated by an endless battle of coltish one-upmanship. It was a multinarrative space, mostly about jobs and what-happened-to-yous and various remorses of the aging body, but the jerky rhythm of the standard stand-up joke (setup statement one → setup statement two, creating an anticipated pattern that deepened setup one → punch line, subverting the expected pattern) zagged through each conversation as inevitably as a rule of grammar.

“So,” went one, “I’ve got a buddy whose wife wanted to do some weight loss surgery — lap-band, gastric bypass, I don’t know what you call it — but her insurance wouldn’t cover it. You know what they do cover? Sex change operations. Turns out you can’t have a thin wife, but you can have a chubby hubby.”

“So,” went another, “the way I see it, we’re furries from here” — and here he measured the distance between his elbow and his fingers — “to here.” He started laughing. “Furries are funny as shit, man. Imagine if one of them was your priest? But I’d know my priest’s legs or arms anywhere. I was an altar boy.”

“Anyway,” went a third, “I want to share something Jimmy said to me earlier. He said, ‘Get out of my way,’ and I thought it was very moving, because I moved.”

One tomato-eyed vent approached me, eyeballing the tag on my chest. “Media,” he announced, squinting at the index card labeled “Media” on a lanyard around my neck. “I thought I smelled something.” Another man, setting down his Bud Light, began catching a swarm of invisible fleas above my head. Another joined to swat him in the forehead.

There was a mysterious sweetness — and a little weird sorrow — in openly acknowledging that some sort of outsider presence at the ConVENTion could be a meaningful cause for concern. One withering Vice special from years ago, two documentaries, and the unshakable cloud of what some vents called “antidummy propaganda” in movies legion with murderous puppets (Magic, 1978; Dead Silence, 2007; et al.) made it an entirely reasonable — if not foregone — conclusion that most of the non-venting population considered ventriloquism a sort of quirky scourge. Add that to Vent Haven’s other obvious hermetic ingredients — its standing as the last sacred place for an outmoded art form, its good-natured but radical disjuncture with modernity — and the presence of any interloper on these grounds understandably threatened a new stench in a long lineage of spoilage.

A man named Dylan stood near the bar, palming a bourbon. Dylan was in fact once one of the focal points of Dumbstruck, a 2010-released, Elon Musk–produced documentary that follows the successes and failures of four members of this very ConVENTion. The documentary is — I now understand — not not a fair representation of the capriciousness of fame in the art form, but it certainly condescends to, even relishes, a deep streak of tragicomedy in tracking the various downfalls of its human characters. Aside from one Las Vegas headliner act, the documentary’s subjects all suffer some breed of genuinely shattering, life-altering indignity on screen (estrangement from family, a grueling divorce, one histrionically disappointed dad), mostly, if not entirely, engined by their passion for puppetry. It did not exactly boost morale.

Dylan, now rattling off his favorite whiskey bars in Erlanger, was dummyless. In the film, he’s 13 — cherubic, creamy cheeked, fatally earnest — chasing stardom with his happy puppet sidekick, Reggie, a ludic pimp. Reggie was big of hat, purple velvet of suit, thickly dreaded, Black — stumbling across this Kentuckian child and his Bush-era minstrelsy routine must have felt, for the documentary team, like hitting the jackpot on the narrative slot machine. “It’s all behind me now, though,” he shrugged. “I’m positive. At least, I try to be.”

No longer does he vent. Reggie rests in a closet at home. Dylan comes to the ConVENTion every year — all fifteen of them since the film’s release — to rejoin the friends who visit annually, to tote his beautiful wife to the open bar, to help break down equipment and set pieces. “I adore that character, though. I wish I had the courage to bring him back out.”

I felt embarrassed, vaguely, but the feeling passed quickly. “Well,” I asked, “does coming so religiously to Vent Haven now” — what with all the dummies, the brotherhood, the successes and travails he watched, now at a remove — “does it feel like you’re learning something different coming here, still?”

Dylan thought for a moment. “As time goes on, I get the feeling that this might die. That’s what makes it more special for me. In the future, nobody’s going to understand what this actually was. The future’s not going to remember it. But I will.”

Together, we watched as an especially old and beloved vent announced his retreat to bed. As he lumbered away, a man seated in the corner on the beer cooler gestured toward the empty door. “He’s going to go upstairs and fart,” he said solemnly. “And tomorrow? That fart’s going to turn into shit.”

Erlanger’s Afternoon Sun was roaring outside the hotel property. The Junior Open Mic, a squirmy lunchtime circus of envy, flair, ambition, stage makeup, and children under 13, was not just — as the generous woman with the twelve-piece Monsterella Stix beside me explained — a little league talent show. This was where we would find out who had the combination of natural and supernatural affinity to become ventriloquism’s new hero. Here, we’d witness those who had learned lip and breath control while still within the brain’s crucial childhood window of plasticity. We would see who’d been granted the God-given facility to vent, sing, maintain pace, orate through a detached third party, split their brain in half, make us laugh, and still not have finished middle school. Here was, in short, where we would find any conceivable hope for the art’s future.

In the front of the stage, three judges sat like sentries, each offering good-natured advice to a 13-year-old from Tennessee. Her leisurewear-wearing parents held their breath as their tween ventriloquist — an actor, a singer, a puppet maker and puppet artist (star-seeking children like these seemed to be as common as barbecue in Nashville) — delivered the 1946 Irving Berlin showtune, “Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better,” with her squirrel puppet, Sandy.

“If Broadway was looking for somebody, I see you clearly onstage there,” said one judge. “Is that something you want to do — be on Broadway?”

She approached the mic. “I did want to for a long time, but I believe I’ve since changed my path,” she responded primly.

“Oh, OK. You can also do cruise ships!”

It broke your heart a little bit, to see these insultingly talented kids smash out Truman-era duets and ragtime standards, with the knowledge that there were crowns and pageant banners on display in their rooms, framed on their mantels, populating their elaborate résumés. They were destined for fame that would likely fork away from Vent Haven and the community that roared each time their puppets delivered a line that may as well have been from an out-of-print joke handbook. Against the ConVENTion’s superannuated, with their embittered pleasure in being outcast from time, the children produced an especially jerky juxtaposition.

“I want to share something Jimmy said to me earlier. He said, ‘Get out of my way,’ and I thought it was very moving, because I moved.” — Tweet

A 12-year-old wearing a spangly fuchsia dress gave her matronly grandmother doll a weebly voice (“These days, my back goes out more than I do!” et cetera) to counteract her own candied-cherry one.

“You look terrific,” said one judge, mopping his ample brow. “When you came out it was like: Wow, stunning.”

“Yes, I love the package, and I think the dress fits you very well,” went another, dabbing his own brow. “It separates Granny and you. You’ll go far with this. You have this very” — he paused sententiously — “sweet demeanor.”

The crowd cooed when a 10-year-old boy, also from Tennessee, shuffled onstage with a dummy on each hand. One dummy, Egor, was made to look like the Marty Feldman version of the stock crookback in Young Frankenstein, while the other was a farmer named Dwayne. The boy had an odd and beautifully rough-cut voice: raspy when speaking, soft and a little high through the hick, stony and throaty when through the hunchback.

No sensible chuckling took place during Egor and Dwayne’s performance. The crowd, which somehow felt double its size, shrieked, choked, nearly self-soiled at every utterance made by either of the two. One woman behind me fell heroically out of her chair at the punch line of a climactic zinger. (Egor: “Master, I have an idea!” Dwayne: “You’ve got an idea, or a hunch?”) The boy’s grandfather, a ventriloquist himself, beamed among the sobbing women, vindicated by the power of his genetic payload.

“The only concern I would have for a young man your age is that you have to be very careful with that kind of deep voice. You’ve got to watch out for nodes in your vocal cords,” said one judge. “Keep an eye on that,” he nodded in the direction of the boy’s parents. “But, folks, we are looking at the next Jeff Dunham. I want everyone to make note.”

The comparison to Dunham was no small honor. You may be aware of Jeff Dunham if you were awake in the late aughts and had access to Comedy Central, although the Dallas native still maxes out arena seating capacities with Achmed the Dead Terrorist (a morose jihadist), Jose Jalapeño (a pepper with a mustache and sombrero), Peanut (fey, simian thing), and Walter (a crotchety fart). His comedy — which spans from racially transgressive catchphrases (like Achmed’s, which is “Silence! I kill you!” delivered Middle Easternly) to the sort of truth bombs that shake the foundation of free speech (like when Dunham wishes Walter “Happy Holidays” and Walter responds: “I’ve been wanting to say this for a couple of years now: Screw you, it’s ‘Merry Christmas’!”) — has awarded him, at one point, the ranking of third-highest-paid comedian in the country, and a yet-unbested Guinness World Record in 2014 for “most tickets sold for a stand-up comedy tour.” (He’s also still around: he recently finished a victory lap across North American megadomes and stadiums in his Still Not Canceled tour, which prominently featured a Gen Z puppet that looks at his phone a lot.)

Irrespective, then, of your or my relationship to the artist, Dunham remains one of a palmful of Vent Haven’s prodigal sons — raised right here at the ConVENTion, a surreal megacelebrity homegrown from these small fields — permanently adored, messianic, and with no exaggeration sacred, at least here in this room.

“I want us all to remember this moment,” continued the judge. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re watching a master in the making here.”

Burt Was One Of Those Hollywood types restored from the ’70s: head to toe in a kelly-green sweatsuit, a pavé chain, a gold piece on each pinky, and a voice like Jerry Stiller’s in the middle of an argument. Burt was human, pacing the stage, and looked like he was about to cry.

Before us was a black-and-white video featuring a man named Paul Winchell and his tiny dummy, Jerry Mahoney. Little Jerry was a street urchin — his cinnamon hair combed for church, houndstooth microtux worn reluctantly — but a wisecracker, a sort of bat-wielding Brooklynite that Winchell, a Rockwellian father, sternly loved in his lap.

Winchell was a genuine lulu of the form, and a kind of ventriloquial da Vinci. One of the original inventors of the artificial heart, a patent holder for a portable blood-plasma defroster, invisible garter belt, retractable fountain pen, and an innovative method for breeding tilapia, Winchell, with Mahoney, also functionally shaped the medium of children’s programming.

Burt, who powerhouse-produced much of the daytime television of the ’80s and ’90s, roamed the stage like a jungle cat. Burt and Winch — as he called him — were joined by the sort of friendship that first came from admiration, then grew into a sort of mutual pethood. “I want to welcome you to a few of the — and I’ll use the word ‘magical’ here — magical things that he was capable of.”

On-screen Winch and Jerry, as part of a Christmas special from 1953, sat before a series of handbells.

“Now, just watch the hands,” Burt went. “We don’t know how he did this, but we do know one thing: it was live. He knew no other way.”

Winch and Jerry were in the middle of something impossible. Spellbindingly — sweetly, snowily — they operated the bells in a rhythm that was not only synchronized to the delicate flutter of the music, but the squall above them, the windy midcentury chorale, and one another. The shivering trees, the swaying branches, Mahoney’s right arm, Winch’s left arm, the ten bells before them — all was unified, adamantine. Winch’s dimples clung to a deep tissue in his cheek.

The children seemed to inherently grasp the complex psychodramatic relationship they shared with their dummies — they were not sidekick, nor instrument, nor prop, but extension of brain and self. — Tweet

All this swirled into something like high math or low wizardry, and to savor the — and I will use the word — magic here did not require any suspension of disbelief. For the first time since I’d arrived, the delicious oneness of ventriloquism — an idea I assumed was a conspiracy, or that I was immune to and would never understand — was before me. Winchell seemed to pose a counterargument against the idea that the solitary body we were given was all we needed. Mahoney was Winch, and Winch, Mahoney.

“Jerry Mahoney is representative of the child that lives inside of us,” Burt continued, bringing a tissue to the corners of his mouth, his eyes. “No one cared that Jerry was a puppet. Nobody cared that there was a strip of leather under his skin, that his eyes weren’t lined up all the time. He had a sense of sophistication. Truth.”

Given the quantity of Jerry Mahoney replicas seated on the laps of the audience before me, I had the sense that this was not a rare attitude, this Winch-love. But it felt like a secret on the brink of vanishment. Custody battles between Winchell and his producers, who withheld rights to a vast terra of some of his most boggling and magnetic performances, had resulted in a partial legacy, mostly eroded.

“All those live tapes from Winchell-Mahoney Time?!” Burt shouted, pointing both hands upward toward the roof. “Forget about them! Poof! Gone! Dunzo! What the hell can you do.”

Night Again. Nigel, who performed with Cindy Hot Chocolate, was standing near the entrance of the Dealers’ Rooms, Vent Haven’s puppet bazaar. He cradled a Tiffany-blue dragon in reading glasses with both of his large hands. “A new member of the family,” he said, holding it out for me. I met its eyes and rubbed its fat stomach in a gesture of congratulations. Nigel concentrated on the dragon, waiting for some presence of character — a name, a vocation, neuroses — to take hold and inhabit the dummy with substance. Several seconds passed. “He smokes,” I suggested. “Weed.”

“A stoner,” he nodded. “Good. Hookah too. Maybe he runs a vape store.” He tried on several languorous voices. “Hey, I got edibles,” he said, putting the dragon’s face near my ear. “Edibles, flower, I got it all.”

Rocco’s vent was trying to get my attention near a box of pizza that now looked like the leftovers of a major surgery. “Hey, Media!” he shouted. (Throughout the night, my title had undergone two re-christenings, from “Media Girl” to just “Media,” then pronounced Medea, as in the sorceress of Greek tragedy, or the title character in Tyler Perry’s ten-film franchise.)

I was pulled into a discussion about prime-time television — quibbles about America’s Got Talent, seemingly the only remaining path to mainstream ventriloquial stardom, loomed large here — but I had a nagging question, a formal question. Can a ventriloquist ever make drama outside of the mildly angry buddy comedy?

Monologuing, mused one. Dummies that don’t let their vent talk, said another. But if both speak, the dummy has to win, right? The everlasting ire, the fiery friction, all that? “That’s the point,” shrugged Vinnie, the Hospitality Room heavy.

“I tried a two-headed dummy once,” he offered. “Siamese twins. One was gay, and one was straight. That didn’t really solve anything.”

Some Soggy Hours Later, we found ourselves seated midway through the midnight open mic. Onstage someone was singing “The Rainbow Connection,” and the entire audience was yelling along, most in faithful imitations of Jim Henson’s Kermit. Rocco’s vent leaned over our laps. “I’m just never going to grow old!” he screamed. “Never going to get old!”

I asked a British vent, Shane, if a puppet had ever made him cry. “I suppose I’ve been close,” he whispered loudly as a pair of Japanese vents took the stage. “Why do they do that, I’m not sure. Suppose you can absorb something so fully, it touches you.”

“Shit,” announced a former firefighter from Missouri to my right. “I’ve cried. Lots of us need a coping mechanism. From womanizing, to alcoholism, to gambling, to drugs. This kept me alive. I just quit the force — I’m 53 — because too many of my friends were dropping like flies. If I’m dead at 65, what’s the sweet spot I’m shooting for? How long should I get to live?”

This seemed to be a shared concern. Shane told me a story about how a ventriloquist — one who would later perform for George W. Bush and Queen Elizabeth — locked himself in a room for three days in his first ConVENTion sometime in the ’80s. Hotel security was asked to open the door because people were worried he’d hanged himself. “My first time here, I broke down and wept in my room, too. Talking about this is such a shame, because I don’t know when I’ll be back again. I’ve been coming for years, and everyone here’s such family, but” — he was cut off — “it’s Cookie!”

It was Cookie. Beloved Cookie — queenly, devastating, powerful Cookie — was onstage. A longtime vent with a saintly halo of hair made platinum under the stage lights, Cookie had an upsettingly moving speaking voice, like a girl’s and a woman’s at once. Whoops showered from front to back of the house when she smiled.

“So as some of you may know, my husband Tim and I used to come to the convention,” she began, pausing as the racket settled. She cleared her throat.

“Last year, as some of you also may know, he passed away. I’ve been in bereavement and support groups, and I wrote a book called Grief Steps: The Path, which is actually on sale in the Dealers’ Rooms. If someone you know needs encouragement or positivity after loss, it’s there. The main thing that I just wanted to do was thank everyone for all the love and support and comfort I’ve gotten here. I just don’t know what I’d do or who and where I’d be without you all.”

Rocco’s vent hollered “WE LOVE YOU COOKIE!” The rest of the audience ran with it, making it into a sort of hymnal. “COOKIE . . . COOKIE . . . COOKIE!!”

She and her tiny puppet — something that looked like a mango from my seat — broke into “Friendship,” the Cole Porter show tune from 1939, though they duetted it like Judy Garland and Johnny Mercer had in 1940. “If you ever lose your mind, I’ll be kind,” Cookie sang,

And if you ever lose your shirt, I’ll be hurt,

If you’re ever in a mill and get sawed in half, I won’t laugh

It’s friendship, friendship

Just a perfect blendship

When other friendships have been forgot

Ours will still be hot

A-lottle-dottle-dottle-dig-dig-dig

Eyes leaked all over the place. We continued chanting “COOKIE” as she walked offstage, rising for her ovation, banging on the plastic of the seats before and behind us. Someone beside me, either a doll or a human child, tapped me on the hip to bend down, and a hand, soft as a glove, rose to wipe my face.

“My Name Is Egor, and my name is Jaxon,” said one child, the first in the circle of plastic seats.

“My name is Puppet, and my name is Georgine,” said the second.

Junior Vent University is a sacred zone at Vent Haven, one of the most well-protected domains in the building. (“Usually, we don’t let any adults in on this class,” one of the instructors told me the day prior. “Parents can’t even attend, and we keep the doors locked — we just want to make sure the kids feel really, really safe. But,” he added, “it helps that you’re a woman. Just saying.”)

“I’ll go!” said a teacher. “My name is Chloe, and my name is Lynn.”

“I’m Barbie Q. Chicken. I’m 4, a little bit of a diva — and when I see chicken being cooked, I do say curse words,” said another.

Her 9-year-old keeper looked up.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t had coffee today, so I’m not really awake yet.”

“No problem, honey. And you?” asked the instructor.

“My puppet is named Deadly Sally,” said a puny girl in a ponytail.

“Why Deadly Sally?”

“Because she tried to kill my sister,” she smiled.

The children ranged from consummate to highly eager. On one side of the spectrum were the pageant kids, the America’s Got Talent fast-trackers, all disciplined and carefully coached. The others had bought their first puppet months prior, or yesterday. Every child cradled their puppet like a parent with a toddler, basketing it by butt or back, and seemed pleased to burst into ventriloquial practice phrases (“ny nother Nary has nany nonkeys,” a favorite) without prompting. I had the sense that this environment was more serious and rigorous than any session geared at those at least triple the median age in the room.

“We have to make people believe that this is a two-character play,” announced another instructor, sweating charismatically through his Hawaiian shirt. “If we don’t believe that he’s a real person, we have a problem. Remember this phrase — you’re ‘committing to a bit.’ You’re switching their minds into your world. Treat your act and your puppet with great dignity.”

Even more than at the Junior Open Mic, it was glaringly obvious that puppetry, like sports or foreign languages, is a practice best taken up before puberty. Nowhere did I witness the guardsmen at the gates of the mind — those responsible for self-consciousness and self-doubt — more swiftly outsmarted, pacified, or outright killed than in that room. And the children seemed to inherently grasp the complex psychodramatic relationship they shared with their dummies — they were not sidekick, nor instrument, nor prop, but extension of brain and self.

“I want someone to try and say a hard sentence in front of the class,” said one instructor, by way of her pigtailed doll. “Let’s try F! ‘Phil and Frank went to the fair!!’” She careened her puppet’s face before a child with a plush toad and a terrific stutter.

As though only he and his doll existed — no fellow kid vents, no teachers, no history, no future, no box of Rice Krispies waiting for him at break time in the corner — he heroically strangled the alien consonant. “Phil and Frank went to the fair,” he said, satin-smoothly. “And I wasn’t invited.”

Seven Minutes East of the Holiday Inn is the long-awaited Vent Haven Museum, which is part graveyard and part melancholy pornographic facility for the devoted ventriloquist. The chartered school bus that would take us there was already humming with action by the time I boarded. A puppet maker beside me saluted the driver with a clap on the back of his seat.

“Everyone, this is Jack,” he went. “Everyone, say ‘Hi, Jack!’”

“HI, JACK!” we obliged.

Jack hit the gas and looked into the mirror. “Don’t say that around the airport.”

The rooms of William Shakespeare Berger’s refurbished suburban home bulged with the generous gifts of many dead vents. Victorian-era dummies peered patiently from their station. Mammy dolls, various ethnic minstrels, and puppets simply marked “Chinamen” loomed solemnly. One splashy placard explained a series of numinous wooden figures that had washed ashore after their owner — last seen traveling by tugboat from Tabasco to Yucatán — drowned in a shipwreck. There were legions of German devils, an exquisite six-foot pussycat, one wooden bunny carved by a nervous soldier floating somewhere off the coast of Vietnam. The Hitler dummy is supposedly in storage and never put on display.

Puppet comes from the Latin pupa, which is not only the root for the French word for doll, but also the name for the cocooned insect in a post-larval state. Not alive, not dead — not unconscious, not conscious. Kentucky, which has those glossy black roads and Grant Woodian horizons of curly trees, barns, and ponies, was a dignified vantage to reckon with the undeadedness we witnessed. My seatmate, who introduced himself as a vent of forty years, splayed his wallet to show me photos of him shaking hands with Jeff Dunham, Bill Clinton, Donald Trump. “I have a Winchell heart,” he said, proudly. “I flatlined for twelve minutes on an operating table. Winchell saved my life.”

“Those dummies are a communion,” he explained, as the highway swished outside. “My grandmother, a medicine woman, spoke to the dead. What you saw is a little like that. We speak through those figures, but they speak to us.”

The thin daytime moon hovered above us. We whizzed past a Chinese restaurant, a fruit stand, a morgue, acreage of two-star hotels. I asked if he’d heard voices in his head when not with a puppet.

“I am a lifelong resident of that planet,” he said, smiling and squeezing my hand. “I believe I’ve been given many gifts.”

The Pool, which was ten meters long and viscous from saliva, was an unbeautiful place to swim, though lying by it, in the company of a small team of children warring like a gang of weasels in the water, offered a clear view of the hallway that funneled toward the checkout desk.

As the children tried to suffocate each other, and their mother — someone’s mother — entered with a placating bag of sandwiches, I wondered if there was a weasel in me. Maybe it was a nightingale, or a donkey, or a meatball — maybe a tiny Brooklynite with a big heart and a bad attitude. I waved to all of them as they passed by the window. One vent put his puppy dummy’s paw against the glass and made him mouth what I assume was “bye!” with such an expression of martyred tenderness that the children began yelling again.

All love is an outcry of secret recognition, I supposed. If man suspected a mystical symmetry not found in the mirror, why not seek out the thing that balanced it best? Why not split the heavy onus of being? Wouldn’t the practice of a shackled, stupider voice add truth to the one we had when we let our lips flap freely?

The gospel of Vent Haven, I considered from the deck chair, was like any faith or art. It shared in the belief that the whole language of the human spirit was huger, vaster, more wild and sprawling than what could be kept in flesh. Its congregation, surrendering to this idea, spoke in tongues. It demanded courage, tested patience, had saints and, like any faith, no need for justification. All it asked was a commitment to its bit.

“Ny nother Nary has nany nonkeys!” shrieked a girl in a pistachio one-piece. Her scuba mask made it hard to tell if I’d seen her in the Junior Vent classroom the day prior. “Nany nonkeys!” she shouted. “Nany nonkeys!”

A very small boy, standing on her left in a pair of swim underwear, mouthed the words privately to himself as he studied her screams.

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mayraki · 4 years ago

Text

“the adventures of babysitting” - jj maybank

-> hvitstark’s gif!

summary: when the cute boy who mows the lawn for the kook family you babysit shows up, weird and unexpected events start to happen.

masterlist

Babysitting wasn’t something you planned to do when summer started, but when you saw that lonely dollar that you had in your pocket you decided to change that. And what better way, than to take care of the rich kids when their parents are too focused on their golf sessions?

It didn’t took you long to find a parent like that, since in Outer Banks, 90% of the parents had the stupid necessity to go golfing every day, leaving their poor kids on the house. Well, “poor” is a matter of speech, because if you had a pool the side of your entire house and free WiFi to play any game that ever existed, you wouldn’t complain.

“The food is in the refrigerator. Maybe start making it at 12 pm, she likes to eat early.” Mrs. Johnson was saying while she had her big bag on her shoulders, ready to leave the house. “Lily!” She yelled so loudly that you squint your eyes for the sudden scream. “Oh, and before I forget, in a couple of hours the boy that’s going to cut the grass is going to show up. But you don’t have to do anything, he already knows his way around the front yard.” You nodded with a little smile.

“Great!”

“Lily! Get down here, now!” She yelled so firmly that you could tell the fire on her eyes, making you feel a little bit intimidated by the rich house wife. As soon as she went back to you, a smile appeared on her face again changing her expression completely in a matter of one second, making you feel a little bit scared. “Do you have any more questions for the day?”

“No! I’m fine, we’ll be fine.”

“Y/n!” You heard the little girl calling your name while she was running to welcome you with a hug.

“Lily! Come here you little angel!” You picked her up so she could wrap her arms around your shoulders.

“Lily, behave.” Mrs. Johnson said and Lily nodded.

“Yes, mommy, like always.”

“No cookies until lunch is over, got it?”

Lily nodded again, this time more quicker. “Got it.”

Not trusting her daughter, Mrs. Johnson turned to you. “Got it?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” Mrs. Johnson gave Lily a kiss on the forehead before walking towards the door. “See you later Mrs. Johnson!” You waved until you saw her outside and she was no longer in your sight.

“Do you want to see my barbie?” Lily said once her feet touched the ground.

“Sure!”

“Cool! Let me look for it.” She grabbed your hand to walk you to her room. “I did a makeover that took me the whole week. Because when I got her she was so ugly, the change was necessary.” She was saying like a professional fashion icon. Her sass was one of your favorite things about her. “That’s what my mom says all the time. If you don’t like something, you change it so it fits you.” After a walk that seemed to took forever since the house was bigger than the whole frontyard itself, you arrived at her room. While Lily was looking for her barbie to show you, you went over her room like it was the first time your eyes were seeing it. The wall colors looked like an unicorn had throw up in them and then a fairy had her glitter thrown at it. The main color was pink, her bed, her night stand, her desk, even her TV was the color pink. You never hated that color, but her room was making you feel nauseous. It was all so colourful and an interesting thing to look at, but the thing that always caught your attention was the thousand posters of the movie ‘Frozen’. Elsa, Anna and all of those characters you couldn’t remember the names where in her wall smiling. They were so many of them that you started to feel creeped out by them. “Here she is!” Finally, Lily found her barbie as was already walking towards you with her toy in her hand waving it like she was trying to get something out of her. She handed the barbie to you with the biggest and proudest smile ever, but the moment you grabbed the toy the smile disappeared from your face for a second.

“Oh my-” the normal long hair that Barbies have isn’t longer in this one, it was short and it looked like some punk girl from the 80’s with he hairs all lift up. You didn’t even know if it was punk, she looked like she touched a wire with a fork! She had a short dress that looked like it had been on dirt, washed but then she fell on grass, making it look even more dirty and destroyed. Her skin was painted red and blue with some pink dots all over her body. She definitely didn’t had a good day. You looked at Lily and noticed the proud smile and the excitement on her eyes as you were watching the barbie, so you put your biggest fake smile on your face not wanting to break the poor girl’s heart. “She looks wonderful!”

“I know! I’m good at it!”

You quickly nodded. “Yeah!”

“Maybe I can be a fashion designer when I grow up!” Lily started clapping and grabbed the barbie from your hand while you were nodding non stop not knowing what to say.

Models from the future; I’m so sorry and good luck.

You thanked the Gods for Lily not wanting to show you anymore of her creations, instead she wanted to watch a movie, and as soon as she said that, you already knew what she wanted to see.

“Let it gooooo! Let it goooooo!” You heard Elsa sing while Lily’s eyes were glued to the TV, her body was slowly moving while she was whispering the song. You knew she loved the movie so much she never wanted to outsing Elsa, and deep down, you were grateful for that.

“Yes, please Elsa,” you said in a whisper not wanting Lily to hear you while you were sitting down in the couch behind her “let it fucking go. Stop it.” As soon as you tilted your head backwards annoyed, a sound came from the front yard. “What was that? You asked with your eyes glued to the door, but there was no response from Lily, since her little mind was too focused on the movie. You headed to the window to cheek what it was while all the horror movies and serial killers documentaries went through your mind. With your heart beating a little faster you opened the curtains and wondered with your eyes your surroundings, but nothing was there. You were calming down until you heard your phone rang in your pocket, making you jump from the scare.

“What’s up bitch?” Your best friend, Hannah, said on the phone once you picked up.

“Hi, I’m babysitting.” You said still checking the front yard.

“Oh, got it, you have to watch your tongue.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think this kid is listening to me right now, Elsa has that covered.” You did quick look on Lily, who’s eyes were still glued to the TV.

“Ugh, I hate that movie.”

“I don’t. But the amount of times I watched it here isn’t helping on that.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Checking if the guy- oh my god.” You stopped as soon as your eyes noticed a boy standing in the front yard. Because he was too far away you could only see clearly his blonde hair and his dark brown boots. He had a white shirt on and some light brown shorts, he was far, but the way he was moving and carrying himself was what attracted you and made your eyes stare at him twice, making sure you were seeing correctly.

“What?”

“The guy that cuts the grass for this family is...” you did a quick turn to Lily to check if she was listening, but she was still too focused on the movie. You turned back to see the boy, but before you could continue your sentence, Hannah spoke before you.

“Hot?”

“Oh, more than that.”

“Who is it?” Hannah said intrigued.

“Can’t see, he’s too far.”

“What is he doing?” You saw how his arms tensed when he grabbed some machine you never saw before. They were so strong that you suddenly got the need to walk towards him touch them, but that would be extremely weird.

“I don’t know, turning the machine I guess.” You tried to focus more on his face and try to figure out if you knew him, but he was too far for your poor sight.

“Go talk to him.”

“What? No!”

“Why not? He’s hot, you’re hot. Perfect match.”

“He is definitely a...” Again, you turned around making sure Lily wasn’t hearing. Even if she wasn’t, you choose your next words carefully. “major babe.”

“Major babe?” Hannah let out a tiny laugh. “What are? 30?”

“The kid is still here!” You whispered loudly.

“What is a major babe?” Fuck.

You turned around to see Lily standing there with her Barbie between her hands. The movie was still playing but it looked like your conversation gained her attention even more.

“What? Oh, nothing.” You shook your head with your phone still against your ear. “Don’t worry about it baby. Keep watching Elsa.”

“I want to know what that means.” Lily said with her firm tone, letting you know she wasn’t going to let it go.

“I think you’re in trouble.” Hannah said on the other side, and you knew she was trying to not laugh at your current situation.

“Bye!” You ended the call before leaving your phone in your pocker to kneeled down and be closer to Lily’s face. “A major babe is someone who is... cute.” You said trying to choose the perfect words. Explaining something like this to a six year old isn’t something that you would ever choose to do.

“Cute?” Lily asked confused.

“Yeah, pretty.”

“Like Elsa?”

“Yeah? Yeah!”

You thought the conversation was over when Lily let out a giant smile and nodded convinced. But then, she opened her mouth: “So you think the guy who cuts the grass is pretty?”

“Well-” You got up trying to take those thoughts out of her mind, but before you could say anything Lily started clapping excited.

“You do! Y/n and JJ sitting in a tree-” She started singing but you stopped hearing once you heard the name ‘JJ’.

“Wait, JJ? The guy’s name is JJ?” You said confused, hoping it wasn’t who you thought it was.

“Yeah! He comes every week since last year!”

“JJ? JJ Maybank?” You were praying Lily was going to shake her head and say it was another JJ, but deep down you knew there wasn’t any other guy with that name.

“Yeah!” Lily said happily, unaware of your thoughts and your not so happy face.

Well, fuck.

“Oh my god.” You said when it finally hit you. “Sweetie, I think Anna is dying.” You said gently turning Lily towards the TV.

“Oh no!” She went back to the movie. You turned to the window and moved the curtain while a sigh came out of your mouth.

JJ Maybank. The guy that was known for being the life of the party, getting into trouble or starting a fight. He would almost every time leave the party with some girl around his arm. You weren’t going to lie, you wished sometimes you were that girl. Having a crush on a boy that doesn’t know you exists isn’t... the best. You met JJ at school when you were a kid and that’s when it all started, when he defended you from some Kook kid that was annoying you at lunch. The crush didn’t grew more, the opposite, it went down passing the years. But that didn’t stop you from looking at him when he showed up at the party you were at or feeling nervous when he was around. You weren’t the type to do so, but there was something about him that made you feel as awkward as you could ever be.

The fact that he was in the same house as you made you feel something inside your stomach, making you move uncomfortably in your sit while Lily was watching, for the second time, Frozen. You don’t have to talk to him, there’s nothing to worry about. You were thinking over and over again trying to calm yourself down. Or maybe this is your opportunity to talk to him. You thought in Hannah’s voice, since she knew about your crush she would often say that you should start a conversation with him, or at least introduce yourself.

You didn’t know if he knew who you were. You only talked once, back when you were kids and you thanked him for defending you. That was it. You remembered it, but you were sure he didn’t.

C’mon, what are you waiting for? Go offer him some water! Hannah’s voice was saying in your head like she was next to you giving you the courage you needed to do so. And somehow, it worked. After making sure Lily was safe while watching the movie, you walked towards the kitchen and poured water on a cup to bring outside.

As soon as your hand touched the door to open it, you felt the heat of the sun touching your skin and you heart beating faster, already knowing your next moves.

You saw him getting ready to cut the grass with the same machine you saw before. His skin and hair were glowing under the sun making your heart beat faster than before and him looking more beautiful than he already was.

“Hey!” You said loudly once you were a couple of steps away from him.

JJ immediately turned to you making your heart drop to your stomach. He furrowed his eyebrows confused while trying to figure out who you were. “Hi? Are you the babysitter?” He pointed at you and you nodded with a smile.

“Yeah. Y/n.”

“JJ.” He let out a tiny smile. Fuuuuuuck.

Silence came between you two while your brain was trying to remember what you came outside. “Oh! I bought you some water, it’s pretty hot out here.” You handed him the cup which he took gratefully.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, I don’t want you passing out. I don’t want to deal with that.” You said and immediately regretted it, why would you say that? That makes you sound like a terrible babysitter!

But as soon as he let out a genuine laugh, your mind gave you a break.

“Sure. So, since when did you started working with this family?” He said before giving a sip to the water.

“Last week.”

“I haven’t seen you around much. You live in the Cut, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I do. My dad owns the store across the beach.”

JJ didn’t respond immediately. He stood there watching your eyes carefully, so much, that your heart started beating faster once again. “Really? He has some good boards, dude.”

“Thanks. He’s really proud of them.”

“Make sure to tell him. Thank you for the water.” He gave you the now empty cup and you shook your head with a little smile.

“Don’t worry about it. If you need anything just tell me.”

JJ let out a tiny laugh. “You take care better of me than Mrs. Johnson.”

You smiled back while on the inside you were freaking out. “It’s no-” you were saying but the water hitting your body cut you off.

“What the fuck?” JJ said as soon as both of you noticed the water feeling like rain against your body. You looked up to see if it was, but the sky was as as clear as you last saw it.

“Where is that water coming from?!”

“It’s the automatic water for the grass!” JJ said looking down and pointing at the tiny machine going off behind you. You turned around and looked at it confused, trying to not get hit in the face by putting your hands in front of your face.

“But it never turns on during the day! Do you know how to turn it off?!” You asked at JJ with the hope that he did, and luckily, he nodded turning around and leading to some part of the front yard you’ve never been before. When you arrived to where he was you noticed he was kneeled down and with a quicker twist of his hand, the water was off. “What the hell was that?” You said turning to where the water was coming from.

“I don’t know.” JJ said and looked down to his body all wet. You turned to him and did the same, but not to your own body, to his. The way his shirt was glued to his torso would mark his abs and let you nothing to the imagination. You immediately looked down once you realize you were staring, you felt so embarrassed like you weren’t supposed to see what you just did. “Maybe this will help with the sun and I won’t pass out.” He said with a smile once he looked up at you and you smiled, thankful he didn’t notice you staring at him and his fit body.

“You’re dripping.” You said. “You have to dry yourself otherwise you won’t be able to work with those heavy clothes. C’mon.” You pointed at the house and started walking, but his voice cut you off.

“I’m not sure I’m aloud to go in.”

“Do you want to get your work done or not? Because I don’t think you’ll be able to.” You did a quick look to the drops of water goind down. “It’s your decision, but I think Mrs. Johnson won’t be happy if she comes back and her grass isn’t done. Do whatever you want.” You said knowing that it was going to convince him to go with you. You did this tactic with Lily sometimes, making it their choice and having the control over the situation. Like you suspected, as soon as you made a couple of steps away from JJ, you heard his feet moving and getting closer to yours. Seconds later, he was already next to you.

“Maybe we should go to the bathroom, I don’t want to make a mess.” You said the moment you stepped inside the house. Lily, who was now sitting down on the couch, looked at you two with an exaggerated surprised face and walked to where you two where.

“Oh! What happened?”

“The water of your front yard went kinda crazy.” You said grabbing your sticky shirt and trying to get it away from your skin.

“Really?” Lily asked and then turned to JJ, who nodded.

“Lily I want you to stay here watching the movie, ok? We need to get dry.” You said leading the way to the bathroom. “Don’t open the door to anyone, did you hear me?”

“Yes!” Lily said while quickly nodding and then leaving to continue watching her movie. “Stupid Hans!” She yelled at the TV.

“She really likes that movie doesn’t she?” JJ said with a smile once he turned around to follow you.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “we watched it three times today.”

“Ouch.” You let out a laugh before entering the bathroom and quickly grabbing the towel and turning around to face JJ.

“Here, have the towe-” You were saying but once your eyes noticed JJ’s naked torso, your tongue went completely numb. “Oh.”

“Is everything ok?” He asked noticing your shook face, but then a little grin escaped his lips while he grabbed the towel from your hand.

“Yeah. Yeah! Everything’s fine.” You said quickly shaking your head a little bit, trying so hard to not let your now red cheeks make you feel embarrassed.

“Aren’t you gonna change?”

“I’ll wait for you to be over and then I’ll do it. Don’t worry about it.”

He nodded and the continued drying his body. “I still don’t know what happened with that.”

“Maybe the clock failed?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe. Anyway, thank you.” He handed you the towel. “I have to continue with work.”

“Yeah!” You quickly nodded. “You go.” You watched how he turned around letting you have a perfect veiw of his back, which made you feel like when you saw his torso naked without any warning. You looked away once he left the bathroom and slapped your forehead with the palm of your hand, already overthinking everything you just did.

As soon as you were finished you walked towards the living room to check on Lily who was now finishing the movie just one more time. You grabbed your phone from your pocket to see the time and realized it was lunch time, so trying to focus every thought of Lily, you called her so she would follow you into the kitchen. You grabbed everything that was on the refrigerator like Mrs. Johnson has told you while your mind was making the recipe for Lily’s meal. You were trying so hard to keep your mind focus and not thing of the cute guy that was still working on the front yard, a couple of steps away from you.

“Did you really fell for Hans because I didn’t. It was pretty obvious.” Lily said while watching you prepare her lunch.

“You think? I didn’t see it coming.”

“I didn’t like Hans since the beginning.” Lily nodded proudly of herself.

“You didn’t? I thought he was really cute and charming, maybe that what’s wrong with princes.” As soon as you said that, a thought came into your head. You stayed still like everything in your life just made sense and you understood it in that exact moment. “And maybe that’s why I like the boys I like.” You continued, talking more to your lard than to Lily. “They’re charming and sweet, but then they forget about your face even if you’re wearing a tiny mask, or they kiss you without even consenting it.” You were saying while your head was inside the refrigerator, looking for the mayonnaise to complete Lily’s lunch. “Or they even think because they have money we will automatically fall for them!” The moment that you said that you realized that you were babbling all to yourself about boys while Lily was listening to you, so you turned around shaking all your thoughts away. “Anyway-” you were about to change the subject but when you opened the water from the kitchen sink it all exploded and went all over your face and clothes. “WHAT THE HELL?” You yelled putting your hand in front of your face to prevent the water hitting your eyes.

“I’ll call JJ!” Lily said once she noticed the water wasn’t stopping.

“What- no! I got this!” You tried to stop her but it was too late, she was already out of your sight. “What’s the fucking problem with water today?” You asked trying to turn the water off, but no matter what you did with the switch, it wasn’t stopping.

“What happened?!” You heard JJ asking once he arrived next to you.

“I turned it on and it went crazy!” You turned around to see the water all over the floor. JJ kneeled down and opened the doors down the sink and just like before, stopped the water. You let your hands rest beside your body and let out an annoyed sigh at the feeling of sticky and wet clothes against your skin.

“Just like before?” JJ asked getting up to lock eyes with you.

You nodded. “Yeah. I think the thingy is broken.” You pointed at the sink looking at it confused but when you heard JJ let out a tiny laugh, you turned to him. “What?”

“The thingy?”

“Yeah, where the water comes out.”

JJ nodded still with a funny smile on his face. “Do you know how to fix it?”

“Do you?”

“Dad has tools!” Lily yelled, appearing on the conversation for the first time. You turned to her and she had a big smile on her face while her fingers were playing with each other. “Maybe Y/n can show you where they are?”

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded remembering the time you helped Mr. Johnson fix something for Lily. “I think they’re next to the bathroom. C’mon.” You said looking at JJ but then you turned to Lily. “While we repair that finish your lunch.”

She quickly nodded before you left her behind. “Ok!”

Even if you had JJ behind you, you felt his eyes on you as you were walking. Maybe they weren’t on you, but somehow, your mind had convince you they were making you feel uncomfortable under them. You were hearing his steps behind you, they were so close you could feel the air he was pushing with his arms while walking. The hallway was darker as usual since having JJ in your mind you forgot to turn on the light, but you knew the house like the palm of your hand.

“I think this is the room- yes it is!” You said entering the room next to the bathroom. “Tools tools tools...”

“Here.” JJ said behind you while grabbing a big dark brown box.

“Oh, ok. Better get that thing fixed so you can get back to work.” JJ nodded so you walked to the now closed door. You looked at it confused since you didn’t remember closing it. “What? Did you close the door?”

“No I didn’t.” JJ said.

“Then why the hell is it closed?” You asked before grabbing the handle, but it wasn’t opening. “And locked?!” Your heart dropped to your stomach the moment you realized you were locked and Lily was outside alone. “Oh my god, Lily? Can you open the door please? Lily?!”

Your heart started to beat faster but then, luckily, she spoke from the other side. “Are you guys locked?”

“Yeah! Can you open it from the outside?”

“I don’t know!”

“Can you check sweetie?”

“She’s a six year old? What can she do?” JJ asked behind you not faced by the situation at all.

“Well? Do you have any ideas genius? Lily is out there on her own!”

JJ lifted the box of the tools and let out a grin. “We have tools?”

“You can’t use them! Do you want to break the door?!”

“Do you want to get stuck in here until Mrs. Johnson comes back? Because I don’t think she’ll be happy to know that you left the little girl outside all by herself.” You let out a tiny sigh when JJ used the same tactic you used on him moments ago. You hated when they were used against you.

“Lily, are you still there?” You asked turning to face the door.

“Yeah. Are you two fighting in there?” She asked softly.

“No, sweetie, why would you think that?”

“I don’t know...”

“Do you want me to break the door then?” JJ asked lifting his eyebrow.

“Maybe you can do something without breaking it?”

“I’ll try. But I’m not a magician.” He said getting closer to the door to grab the handle. You noticed he put a lot of strength in it, but you didn’t understand what he was doing. “I think I got it, but I need your help.”

“What do you want me to do?” You walked to stand next to him.

“Grab the handle and pull it really hard when I say so.” You did as he told you and then looked at him, waiting for his words. “Ready?” You nodded. “Go!”

You pulled the handle with all your strength just like JJ told you while JJ was pushing the door to open, and before you could think of something else the door opened. You and JJ had so much strength into it, that the sudden movement of the door opening, made you two lose balance. JJ tried to grab your waist and prevent you from falling, but it didn’t work since your body was already half way to the floor, it only managed to turn you around by twisting you from your waist and not fall on your face. Once your back hit the floor, you felt a body algo hitting yours.

You opened your eyes once the pain in your back passed enough for you to move, to see some blue eyes staring at you. JJ’s face was so close to yours that you were feeling his heavy breathing against your skin. You felt like his eyes were casting a spell on you since you felt like you couldn’t move, and not because you had his body on top of yours. Even if would be normal for you to feel crushed under a body, you weren’t feeling his. You were so lost in his eyes that you forgot everything around you, it was just him and his breathing gently hitting your face.

“Guys-” Lily said softly next to you. That made you return to the moment and realize in the position you two were. He quickly got up and walked back nervously, like he didn’t know what just happened either.

“Lily! Are you alright?” You walked towards her and hugged her body.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She broke the hug to look at JJ, who was still standing in the corner nervously. “You two looked like Anna and Kristoff there.”

“What’s that?” You asked quickly, feeling your cheeks getting hot.

“Yeah, when they looked at each other. With so much looooove.” Lily said and then let out a silly laugh. You wanted the floor to eat you and throw you whatever it wanted, as long as it wasn’t there. Silence surrounded the hallway for a couple of seconds while you were trying to think of something to change the subject and pretend that what just happened, didn’t. But JJ spoke before you.

“Maybe I should get back to work.” He said and you nodded.

“Maybe you should.” The second you said that, he quickly walked passed your body to leave you and Lily behind. You watched his back and noticed he was looking down, maybe you weren’t the only one who got embarrassed. But what did happen?

The moment that you two locked eyes with each other you felt like there was nothing else around you, like you were melting under his eyes. You never felt something like that, and you never wanted to do it again. So lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realize Lily has taken you to the living room to play with some of her new toys. You were hearing her voice talk but non of her words were entering your body. You tried to keep your eyes on the toys but the second that you looked up, your eyes met with his. He quickly looked down and walked away, leaving your sight from the window. You sighed, disappointed.

It wasn’t that you wanted to stare at him... well, maybe it was. But you didn’t want to distract yourself from your work and taking care of Lily, the girl that had to be your number one throught until you left the house. So erasing your unwanted thoughts, you focused your mind into Lily’s game, who seemed to be super invested in.

“Barbie and Ken are going to get married tomorrow, I already planned everything.” Lily was saying the second your mind started to pick up her words. “I’m so excited!”

“I’m pretty sure Barbie and Ken are as well!” You said with a smile, playing along with her.

After a couple of minutes playing with Lily you were glad JJ wasn’t consuming your brain, playing with Lily did helped you get your thoughts straight and focus on what was important. It all seemed to be going back to normal, you weren’t thinking of what happened earlier, Lily and her funny game with her Barbies were definitely making you laugh, and the clock was getting closer to the end of the day, so you were definitely going back to your normal self, until you heard some steps getting inside the house.

“Hey, can I have another glass of water?” JJ asked standing next to the door. You looked up and him and slowly nodded, not opening your mouth. Without giving the opportunity to anything else to happen, you got up from where you were and walked to the kitchen. You heard the door closing and you sighed, glad that JJ didn’t followed you to the kitchen. You didn’t want to talk to him, you knew you were going to be your awkward self and probably embarrass yourself like you usually do, so better to avoid him and forget he even excited... if that’s even possible. You looked at the glass of water that you had now on your hand and stared at it for a couple of seconds. You didn’t want to go out and give it to him, so a better idea came into your head.

“Hey, sweetie,” you called Lily and seconds later she was in front of you with an innocent smile on her face. “can you take this to JJ?” She nodded and grabbed the glass of water before leaving the kitchen behind.

While waiting for her to come back, you closed your eyes when the last time you had JJ in front of you came back to your mind. Well, on top of you is the better choice for words. Your heart dropped to your stomach and the memory slowly came back to your eyes and the feeling of his breathing against your face. Not wanting to have that on your mind, you slapped yourself on the forehead with the palm of your hand. But that didn’t work at all, and what you saw when you opened your eyes didn’t help either.

“Hi.” He said while standing next to the kitchen entrance.

“Hi.” You said, surprised he was inside the house.

“My water?” He asked looking to your hand and noticing they weren’t holding anything.

You furrowed your eyebrows confused, trying to not think you telling Lily about JJ’s water was all your mind playing tricks on you. “I just sent Lily with a glass of water for you.”

“She said that you had it here.”

“What? Lily?” You called her but there was no response. “Lily!” You walked to the living room but she wasn’t there. Feeling your heart beating faster you walked outside hoping she was there. Once your eyes went over the entire front yard while your heart was slowly beating faster passing the seconds, your eyes finally landed on Lily, but that didn’t calmed you down, since she was standing right next to the pool. “What are you doing?”

“I want to take a swim!” She yelled once you started to walk towards her, followed by JJ.

“You don’t know how to swim! Your mom doesn’t let you in if she’s not here! Come back!”

“But I want to swim!”

“Lily you can’t! I’m pretty sure you will when your mom comes home.” You said but Lily didn’t respond you, instead she turned towards the pool. “Lily?” The moment she lifted her foot your heart dropped to your stomach. Your eyes followed her body falling inside the pool once she jumped and threw some water drops into the air, you saw it all like it happened in slow motion. “Lily!” You yelled like you never did before. You started running towards her ready to jump and grab her, but JJ being faster than you, with quick moves took off his boots and jumped into the pool.

Once inside, the water was making it difficult for you to fully see their movements. That was making your hands sweat and your heart to beat faster, it felt like it was going to jump out of your body. But then, you saw JJ’s head above the water, followed by Lily’s.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?” You yelled once JJ left Lily’s body outside the pool. “Oh my god, you almost gave me a heart attack!” You patted her back while she was getting all the water outside from her body. You felt your heart getting heavy and slowing its speed while your breathing was letting out relief breaths.

“I’m sorry.” Lily said, once she stopped cuffing.

“Why- why would you do that Lily? You know you can’t swim!”

Lily looked up and JJ, who was breathing heavily with his body covered in water and his clothes sticking to his skin, but then she went back to looking at the floor. “I wanted- I wanted to be Anna.”

“What?” You asked confused.

“And I wanted JJ to be Kristoff.” As soon as she said those words you locked eyes with JJ, who seemed to understand the same thing as you on the same moment. Lily wanted to have a love like the characters of her favorite movie.

“Oh... Sweetie,” you kneeled down to be closer to her face. “And you thought that jumping into the pool when you can’t swim was going to make JJ your Kristoff because you wanted him to save you?”

She slowly nodded. “Yeah. And I- I also turned on the water earlier.”

“What?” You and JJ asked at the same time.

“The water for the grass- I did it.”

“Why?” JJ asked once you got up.

“And I broke the water tap. And I locked you two in the closet.” You opened your mouth surprised before looking at JJ, who was just as surprised as you.

“How?” He asked.

“Why would you do that?”

Lily shrugged her shoulders and that made JJ let out a tiny laugh while shaking his head.

“At least we know the house isn’t haunted.” He said, turning the conversation into something funny.

“You little devil.” You said, after letting the funny in the situation hit you.

“Are you gonna tell my mom?” Lily asked softly once she locked eyes with you.

“Lily, do you promise you won’t do it again?”

She quickly nodded with a smile. “I do.”

“Then this will be out little secret.”

“Thank you Y/n!” For the first time during those long hours, you felt like there was nothing else that could go wrong. You didn’t felt uncomfortable under JJ’s eyes, Lily was completely fine and JJ didn’t seem to bother that a little girl almost drowned for him... it all felt just alright. “And you calling JJ a major babe will be our little secret too!” Lily yelled and quickly added, noticing your cheeks go red and JJ letting out a grin once he locked eyes with you. “Oh, sorry.” Lily said softly.

“Shit.”

Well... it had to happen, just another thing going completely wrong.

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depressed-royalty · 3 years ago

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So Since I'm drawing FNAF stuff again and Cause I'm hyper focused on it today, Here is my little Security Breach Headcanon/Theory or whatever. :p

Also.......Spoilers? Kinda. Not really.

>Monty didn't attack Bonnie in order to take his place.

*Yes I'm aware that according to the game the Last place Bonnie was seen was in Monty Golf. I am also aware that many people agree with this idea but it just doesn't sit with me very well.

*Personally I believe that Vanny had been luring and killing children inside of Monty Golf at one point before the game started. This is due to how big and dark it is in there. Maybe she promised the kids that they could get some speical prizes from Monty since its after hours.

*I believe that Vanny had began either Hacking the animatronics or at least momentarily taking them offline. For some reason this didn't work on Bonnie. Just like for some reason Freddy was put into Safemode after she attempted to hack him in the start of SB.

*Bonnie either kept getting in the way or he almost stopped Vanny. So in response Vanny has him disassembled. Or she makes a report that Bonnie attacked a child. Either way, Fazbear entertainment is quick to remove anything relating to Bonnie and replaces him with Monty.

*Originally Monty played a similar role that Foxy used to in older games. Monty was a side attraction that you could only see in Monty Golf.

*When the game starts, The company hasn't fully transferred Bonnie's Showroom into Monty's. Everything inside is still Bonnie's. Monty is also more jealous and aggressive due to Vanny.

*The things we hear Monty destroying is Bonnie's leftover items and anything relating to Bonnie.

*Monty knows that Kids and others still ask about Bonnie. He hates it because he believes he's better than that stupid rabbit.

*They also used some of Bonnie's parts to make Monty be a better fit for the Bassist role. Monty's claws and Feet were made from Bonnie's parts. This is why his ass can jump so high.

*The rest of Bonnie's parts(and Monty's original hands) were used to fix BurnTrap.

>Roxanne replaced Foxy

*I mean.....duh

*But Roxanne probably replaced Foxy WAY before Bonnie was decommissioned.

*Foxy was probably decommissioned due to Vanny or because his theme just didn't fit the Glamrock look.

*Roxanne's raceway was probably Foxy and pirate Themed at one point

*Foxy, like Bonnie and Freddy, was a fan favorite. The kids did not take kindly to him being replaced. And some still don't.

*Kids were brutal with Roxy at first. They booed her, called her ugly, and demanded Foxy back

*Honestly Foxy and Roxy probably share the same Endo? Maybe. I mean they are both supposed to be the fast ones so-

*Either way, this is where her self esteem issues come from. Its also why she is so mean. Roxy feels as though she has to be equally as mean to not feel the burn of insults.

*Roxy also feels like she has to hype herself up. Yes Freddy and Chica try to make her feel better but it doesn't really share the same effect.

*Roxy's Voice lines directly come from what Children have said to her. But she has changed them to reflect positively upon herself. This is to make her feel better. She also thanks herself for the same effect. (Roxy's Canon Voice Lines in Purple. What I think the kids said is in Black):

-"Your Hair is Beautiful. Your tail is beautiful."

-"Roxy is so Ugly!"

-"I Hate your hair!"

-"Everyone was watching you."

-"Everyone Loves you."

-"Everyone wants to be you."

-"No one wants you! Boo!"

-"We hate you!"

-"You are the BEST"

-"You are the WORST"

*Roxy also feels like she can't amount to Foxy or any of the OG gang. She feels lesser and like a loser.

*This is also why is so obsessed with her looks and winning. She feels like that's also she really has. If she can't be pretty and a winner that she is honestly nothing.

#Welp-#fivenightsatfreddyssecuritybreach #FNAF SB #sb spoilers #fnaf security breach #fnaf headcanons #monty gator #roxanne wolf

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pagingevilspawn · 4 years ago

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Loving You Is A Losing Game - chapter nine

heyyy! it’s been a little while, but i did warn that updates on this book a going to get slower. lots of stuffs been going on with my family lately, so its been really hard to find time to sit down and write... but nevertheless, i hope you enjoy this chapter that i only like the second half of...

~*~

"how many pennies in the slot"

~*~

"when can i see you again?"

____

they had set a date. that night outside of joe's bar, they agreed that in just less than two weeks they would see each other again. paul would be out of town on a golfing trip like he did every last friday of the month, and alex would say that he had a family emergency. it wouldn't be hard to get a day off, just the words 'schizophrenic mother' would be enough to let him have a little while off.

so, on that early friday morning, alex stood in the trailer, packing up his suitcase with clothes while izzie continued to sleep peacefully, not needing to wake up for another twenty minutes or so. she had started back at work two days ago and he could tell it was taking a toll on her. she was more irritable and had been sleeping more, exhausted from being on her feet all day, a large comparison to being practically tied to a bed for twenty four hours straight.

he left a note, izzie knew that he was most likely going to be gone before she woke up that morning, but he wrote one anyway. 'gone to the airport. take your pills. love you'. it was short and sweet. he zipped up his suitcase slowly and quietly, careful not to wake his sleeping wife. before he heads out the door he takes one more glance at her and the guilt settles in deeper. he wasn't going to iowa, no, he was going to boston, to see another woman. a woman who wasn't his wife.

he considers not going for a second, calling off the whole trip and staying loyal to izzie, his wife. that's what he should do. the right thing.

but he has this desire in him, this burn. he needs this release, a sense of normalcy, and jo's the only one who can give it to him.

life was really screwed up sometimes.

he knew that someday, somehow, this would come back and blow up in his face, that was a given. but right now... right now he needs this. he needs to ramble on about stupid crap to jo while she does the same, stuff that he wouldn't talk about with izzie because he knew she wouldn't really care. stuff he wouldn't talk about with meredith or cristina because they would somehow circle the problem right back to them.

he needed this, and he could tell that she did too.

so with that he exits the trailer and slings his small suitcase into the back seat of the cab he ordered, watching as the tin can he called home slowly grew smaller and smaller as he got further away from it. he pulls out his wallet when he reaches the ferry boat not long later, giving the driver a generous tip before stepping onto the dock, the early morning sun just barely peeking above the horizon, setting an orange and yellow tint to the blue water of the sound. it was calming, settling. for the first time he could see why shepherd loved them so much.

when he arrives on the mainland he takes another taxi to the airport, going through security and baggage check quickly, grabbing a straight black coffee from the starbucks by one of the many gift shops, settling himself into an uncomfortable black chair next to an old lady knitting some kind of scarf. it was an ugly thing, green and a weird puke yellow, but the woman seems to like it, so he doesn't judge. he pulls his phone out from his pocket and looks through it, checking to see if he had any notifications or texts. he responds to a few work emails, which was mainly lexie asking for some details on patients since she was covering his service for the next three days.

he doesn't need to wait long before he hears a woman's voice come over the intercom. "flight 270 to boston, group two now boarding." he picks up his suitcase and shows the attendant his ticket before making his way to his seat, which was thankfully an aisle. he places his suitcase in the overheard compartment, letting in his seat mates before him.

he pops a piece of spearmint gum into his mouth so his ears wouldn't get clogged on the way up, leaning back in his seat and drifting off to a much needed sleep. maybe sleep would help to settle his nerves. maybe sleep would bring him some peace.

____

to say jo was nervous was an understatement, she was terrified. for what, she wasn't quite sure. maybe she was worried paul would come home early and see that she wasn't there. maybe she was worried that her and alex wouldn't connect, like last time.

she really hoped that wouldn't be the case though. she needed this, she craved it. she needed the release, she needed the conversations over beer, she needed the ease of being together, even though what they were doing was far from it. easy, that is.

alex would be meeting her at the hotel not too far from her house, a ten minute drive or so. she had a small duffle bag filled with clothes, school textbooks (she still had to study, she was a med-student above anything else after all) and necessities like her toothbrush and comb. she checks the time on the clock on the wall. it was now 2:32. alex's flight landed at around two, and he was going to text her when he arrived at his hotel.

she lets out a long breath, biting her lower lip as she flops back onto her bed, turning on her phone for the hundredth time in the last five minutes, seeing if alex had texted her yet. her feelings were a combination of nerves and impatience. she needed him, right there, right now. she needed to feel something real.

ever since paul hit her two weeks ago she seemed like she was living in a dream world. her thoughts were more hazy and the life she was living just didn't seem all that real. (she didn't have brain damage, but she chalked it up to a sign of shock).

everything had shifted in those two weeks. paul was worse —angry all the time. instead of being greeted by the door with a kiss, it was now an order, either to make him coffee, snack, or some other kind of demand. she didn't know this paul. but, he would get better. she knew he would. people always say that after the honeymoon stage of marriage ends it gets harder. so she thought that that's where they were right now. the harder part.

luckily the bruise on her eye had faded, nearly completely gone by now. a little bit of concealer on the corner of her lid was just enough to cover the yellow spot so it was unrecognizable. she was thankful for that. she didn't want to have to explain why her eye was bruised to alex.

she closes her eyes and places a hand on her forehead, not needing to wait long before her phone buzzes in her hand.

alexandra: just got in a taxi. the driver says i'll be at the hotel in twenty.

joseph: okay, room 363 right?

alexandra: yep ;)

jo chuckles at his response (leave it up to alex to flirt through every text), zipping her duffle bag closed, and walking over to the mirror hanging above her dresser. she ruffles her hair before picking up a spare comb and brushing through it once more. she hated her hair sometimes. it didn't matter how many times she combed through it, it was tangled and knotted as hell five minutes later. she sets the brush down, exhaling a long sigh as she looks into her reflection, her seas of hazel staring right back at her.

she wanted to say that she regretted those three nights. she wanted to say she was going to regret the next three. but honestly? she couldn't. she knew the shame would be flowing through her body once they left the room. she knew that she would not be able to look at herself for a few days in the mirror, only being able to see a woman who cheats on her husband. she knew. but for some reason it didn't matter. she wanted to meet alex in that room for three days straight and let them confine in one another.

she wanted it. she needed it.

so with that thought, she slings the bag over her shoulder and exits the bedroom, closing the door behind her. she gets into a taxi she ordered and drives to the hyatt where alex was staying, nervously tapping her fingers on her knees the whole way, grateful that she had ordered a taxi and not chosen to drive her own car. (no way in hell was she going to pay for hotel parking.) besides, it's not like her and alex were going to be leaving the room much.

she grabs her phone out of her pocket and pulls up alex's contact. she couldn't check in, since the room was in alex's name.

joseph: you here yet?

alexandra: yeah, just set my stuff down.

joseph: okay, i'll be up in a few

jo flashes the woman at the receptionist's desk a polite smile before she can talk, entering the elevators and pressing the third floor button. when the doors close, soft tunes begin to play through the small space, a long groan escaping jo's lips. she hated elevator music. she hated it's stupid rhythm and the way it made you want to claw your eyes out. abso-freaking-lutely nothing was enjoyable about elevator music. when the steel doors open she couldn't get out of them fast enough, cursing under her breath about their 'stupid freaking songs'.

she finds the room quickly, taking in a deep breath before she raises her hand to knock. if she wanted to leave, now was the time. she could make a run for it, text him that she couldn't do it and ghost him after. but the truth is, she didn't want to. she wanted to knock on the damn door, open it and see alex once again. in person this time, not just over her phone.

three knocks. an "it's open," is all it takes for her to swing the wooden door wide and be met with the face of alex karev, who had a small smirk on his features, looking her up and down, drinking in the sight of what's been on his mind non stop for the past month.

jo stands nervously in the doorway, leaning against the frame. she somewhat expected him not to show up. her whole life she'd been abandoned. who was she to expect a guy would fly across the country and cheat on his wife with her? and to show up would be a whole new thing.

but he did. it wasn't something to be proud of, but she didn't think he'd ever know how much it meant to her that he was there.

alex's smirk quirks up higher at one end, "personally... i think you're wearing too much clothes," he teases. that's all it takes for jo to drop her bag on the floor without a thought and jog over to him, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

the kiss was needy, frustrated. weeks of pent up emotions poured into it, burning their mouths with their desire for one another. her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, bodies pressed so tightly together there was no room in between them.

nothing mattered in that moment. it was just them, nobody else, nothing else. all they were was two bodies longing for the touch of one another, to caress their skin, to realize that everything was going to be just fine if they could kiss each other like that for just a little while.

it was just them.

____

jo and alex laid in the afterglow, the sun peeking through the curtains and setting a warm hue on their entangled bodies, limbs seeming to no longer belong to just one person. a calm silence surrounded them, a silence they desperately craved. it brought peace and promise, something they could both agree was a necessity right now in the chaotic mess that they had gotten themselves into.

she traces circles on his chest, eyes closed as he runs his fingers through her hair. her foot moved up and down his calf, nearly in sync with the way his hand twirled her brown locks. they were tired, exhausted after what they had just finished with each other, but they didn't want to fall asleep. the way their skin felt on each other, the fireworks going off in them was just too much to allow them to drift off. just being near each other seemed to heighten their adrenaline.

while she was focused on his chest and (now) making stars with her finger, he was staring at her lips. it was odd, how hers seemed to mold so perfectly into his. at the moment, her lips were swollen, a bright red tint glossing over them from their previous activities. a sight he enjoyed much more than he would ever admit.

they lay like that for a while, until jo shifts a bit, beginning to place tiny kisses on the side of his chest. "how's work been?" she asks, momentarily stopping the movement of her lips on his skin to look up at him, her eyes shining with genuine questioning.

alex moves his hand from her hair to her side, rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin that she possessed there. he pulls her closer to him, stifling his groan in her hair, making her let out a laugh —a sound he had grown more than fond of. "we’ve merged with one of the lower ranking hospitals, mercy west. which sucks."

he can feel jo pout against him. "i'm sorry." she says sincerely.

he blows out a breath, "yeah. i can't stand any of these new people —none of us can, actually."

jo sits up, eyes locking with his, a teasing undertone shining through her words. "oh c'mon, how bad can they really be?"

alex smirks, taking her mock as a challenge. "well for starters, they're all a bunch of total kiss asses." he grins, making her chuckle against his palm. "i'm serious," he laughs, adjusting his position so he could now sit fully upright. "kepner has this little book, where she writes everything down in, and i mean everything," jo leans against the headboards, taking her hand in his larger one and begins to trace his fingers.

"she never stops talking. she's like a freaking chihuahua. and she also got this huge thing for shepherd," he chuckles, thinking about how the girl practically melted every time the neurosurgeon entered the room. "she has her lips permanently superglued to his ass."

jo hits his chest, trying to keep her laughs to a minimum. "i'm sure she's not that bad," she reasons. his curt glare is the only thing that told her that this kepner was in fact 'that bad'.

“she’s terrible. never shuts up about jesus either. jesus wouldn’t approve of all the images she’d probably conjuring in her mind about shepherd though.” he snorts, amused at his own joke. jo rolls her eyes, biting back a smirk.

“oh doctor shepherd, i’ve picked up your lab results. oh doctor shepherd, i’ll assist you on a surgery nobody else wants to even observe. oh doctor shepherd, i’ll do anything you want me to if that means i get to stare at you a little bit longer.”

“please tell me you’re exaggerating.”

alex scoffs, “i wish. worst part is, she does it while mer is in the room. i’m not sure if she doesn’t know he’s married or has just never had the hots for someone before. Because if she hasn’t, she’s making it painfully obvious.”

jo gives up on holding back her laughter, letting a little giggle escape her throat. “that’s… something,” she settles on. over the past few weeks she’d begun to learn nearly everything about alex and all of his friends’ crazy, soap-opera lives inside the walls of the hospital. what she retained is one; that they were all somehow related, either biologically or through sex, and two; people who worked at seattle grace were incredibly horny, to put it lightly. but that was a discussion for another time.

“mhm, then adamson is just a-a bitch. yeah, she’s a huge bitch. don’t know how else to describe her other than that.” he leans over the side of the bed and ruffles through his carry-on bag, emerging with a bag of gummy bears. ripping the bag open he offers the candy to jo, who eagerly accepts and shoves at least four of the bears into her mouth at once.

“percy’s just this… absolute giant. guy’s like, seventy feet tall. he’s also got this thing for adamson, who only sees him as her brother. it’s sad really, she calls him charlie and everything.” he fakes a pout, posing mock sympathy for the man he honestly wouldn’t even give the time of day to if he wasn’t currently invading his work place.

jo clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “that’s a tough one.”

“yep.” he pops a few more gummy bears into his mouth, waiting until he finished them before talking again. (he one time tried to complete his story with food still in his mouth and jo had physically shut his jaw and forced him to chew until all of the pizza was gone. no way he was making that mistake again —jo was strong.)

“don’t even get me started on avery. god, every time i see him i just wanna punch him.” that piqued jo’s interest, a teasing grin split across her lips.

“are you jealous?”

alex scoffs, “god no. definitely not. i just can’t stand the guy. the dude looks like he should be on the cover of a fashion magazine, not inside of an OR. and, he gets standing ovations in the middle of the emergency room. oh yeah, plus he’s loaded, being harper avery’s grandson and all. i thought we were past the age of nepotism”

jo’s eyes widen comically, snatching the bag of gummies out of his hand and tossing it across the room, cutting off alex’s loud display of protests at the fact that the candy was now scattered carelessly across the carpet. “harper avery’s grandson?!” she all but screeches.

alex visibly winces, “yes jo.” he replied, nodding his head and trying to figure out how the woman he thought he had gotten to know so well could emit that kind of sound. like one of those teenage girls who were obsessed with those movies about vampires and werewolves.

“as in the harper avery award harper avery?”

“no jo,” alex deadpans, dramatically rolling his eyes. “the harper avery who owns the car dealership down the street —yes the harper avery award harper avery. who else would it be?” he gets up from the bed and starts collecting the gummy bears, dumping all the dirty ones into the trash while silently cheering when a good amount of them were still left in the bag.

when he returns to his spot, jo slaps him across the chest. “asshole. there may be a lot of people out there who are named harper avery.” in her defense, there were seven point six billion people on the earth. it was highly likely a few people shared the same name as the former doctor. (at least one.)

“mhm. yeah, well, the guy’s an ass.” he argues, giving her the bag of candy in hopes that she won’t throw it across the room again.

jo’s eyebrows scrunch up as she tilts her head to the side, seemingly deep in thought. “you know you gotta become friends with him right?”

he lets out a bemused laugh, “tell me you’re joking.” he says.

she shakes her head, jutting out her bottom lip. “nope. i mean...there’s gotta be some benefits to befriending an avery, right?” surely, there would be some kind of advantage. extra… good points with the foundation? mentions about oneself to the famous catherine avery? (the more she ran it over in her head the worse it sounded, but there was no way she was gonna give up, because there had to be at least one advantage to being best bros with an avery.)

“sure, i’ll keep that in mind.” he smirks, seeing how the wheels had stopped turning in that mind of her’s and were put to a rest once she realized the lack of good things that could come from being nice to mr. green eyes.

“whatever jerk. help me with some of my homework, i don’t wanna do it and you’re the hotshot surgeon who already finished med-school and works at a big, fancy hospital. sound good doctor karev?” she teases, grabbing her books from her bag and dropping them down onto the bed, the heavy pages creating a loud thump that immediately sends alex back to his days in college. books scattered on his bedspread, day-old mcdonald’s cups on his side table, and packets of unhealthy snack foods thrown across the floor. he lets out a dramatic sigh, pretending to think it over before pulling a book and jo towards him.

“so, biochemistry…”

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thechoir-roomhq · 4 years ago

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WELCOME TO THE CHOIR ROOM, KENNA GIARDI (kathryn newton fc),

here is your SCHEDULE! you have twenty-four hours to turn in your account and post an intro. good luck and have fun with the semester!

[KATHRYN NEWTON, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER] who’s that? oh it’s {KENNA GIARDI}. i hear they’re {SIXTEEN} and a {JUNIOR} at {CARMEL}, * have a voice like {EMILY ROBINSON} *and are part of {VOCAL ADRENALINE & GOLF}. they’re known to be {GENTLE & ADAPTABLE} and {INDECISIVE & EASILY CONTROLLED}. some people say they remind them of {UNRULY WAVY HAIR, BELTING AT 1AM, SHOOTING FOR THE STARS, & THE SCREECHING OF A MOTHER’S HARMFUL WORDS}. only one way to find out! [lexi, 20, she/her, est]

Kenna Giardi was born as the youngest and only daughter to Kendra and Phil Giardi on July 15th, 2025. While she wasn’t the only child, it sure seemed like she was since her triplet brothers were already 22 by the time she was born. This subsequently led Kendra Giardi to using Kenna as her very own Barbie doll.

Growing up in a house like the Giardi’s really meant three little things. One, never ask to get vaccinated. Kendra was convinced it made her older sons stupid so that was out of the question for darling Kenna. Two, always look pretty. Kenna couldn’t find a suitable guy to take care of her and her parents if she was ugly, could she? And never go to William McKinley High School. That was just a part of Kendra’s diabolical plan.

Kendra had an idea. Albeit it a bit terrible. She thought that if Kenna went to a different school, then she could employ Kenna to tear down New Directions and thus tearing the Schuester family apart. Don’t question it because it doesn’t really make sense, but regardless, Kenna ended up in the Carmel school district and getting into Vocal Adrenaline and simply… she loved it. It’s where she found an actual love for performing. Even if Kendra was hoping to tear down another glee club, at least Kenna was able to do something she enjoyed.

While she was younger, Kenna quickly learned to take everything her mom said with a grain of salt. Kenna completely follows whatever her mom says. If it means forgoing any kind of argument or yelling, she’s more than happy to just follow along to whatever Kendra has in mind. That’s why Kenna loves being away from her house. That way she can actually be herself and feel free without worrying about displeasing her mom.

Even though it may seem like Kenna takes a beating whenever its given, she has a very competitive streak. She’d never say out loud that she hates the New Directions or the Canaries or even the Warblers, but she enjoys winning because winning means making Kendra happy and winning gives her an extra edge to getting out of Lima and getting a full ride to NYADA… or at least showing someone she has enough talent to get out of Lima.

#accepted #giardi #kathryn newton #submission

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shotgun--rider · 5 years ago

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Fake It Till You Make It - Four

A Sam x Reader Series

PART FOUR

Y/N knows it’s a bad idea to try telling her family that she’s dating Sam Winchester. But it’s just for the week of her sister’s wedding, and it’s all fake anyway. What could go wrong?

Word Count: 3500

Warnings: plus size! Reader, fatphobic comments and self esteem issues, Y/N’s family are demons, gratuitous Meg pep talks because I love her and I’m sorry

A/N: Sorry for taking forever, being a depressed squid took more of my time than planned. Also sorry for any pain this part may cause, I promise to fix it next time.

Sam and your father returned from golfing the following afternoon relatively unscathed. A few jokes were made about a lawyer not knowing how to golf, but they were surprisingly good natured, considering your family’s penchant for throwing passive-aggressive barbs around. Sam just took it in stride, the same way he had with everything that had been thrown at both of you this week, with a smile and a nod and a hand on whatever part of you was within reach.

You, on the other hand, were in freefall. You’d known on some level even back at Dean’s dinner table that it wasn’t a particularly great plan for you to bring Sam to your sister’s wedding, but you hadn’t anticipated the reality of playing this charade. He was everything you’d ever wanted, even earning the approval of the only family members that mattered (even if Meg did still like flirting with him) and none of it was real. Kissing him had only made it all worse, and Sam’s subsequent apology for blindsiding you that evening didn’t come close to making anything better.

Now, the two of you were curled up in one lounge chair at Ruby’s behest, and you were pretty sure that this was some personal hell devised by the devil to torture you. You weren’t entirely sure why Ruby had felt that a pre-wedding family bonfire was necessary on her last night as an unmarried woman, but she’d insisted, so here you both were.

Gramma Lilith, who was quickly becoming the primary villain here, had started fawning over the two of you the instant you made your appearance on the back lawn, somehow strong-arming you into sharing a seat and insisting that Sam could keep you warm. (Your arguments ranged from the overall midsummer heat to the fact that you were literally sitting in front of a fire, but you didn’t bother voicing them.)

Your first thought was to try to get through this as professionally as possible (if professional was even a word that could be applied to this shitshow) but the expensive chairs circling Aunt Abaddon’s fire pit were designed at too far of a reclined angle for you not to be basically laying on top of Sam. You tried your hand weakly at looking as relaxed as Ruby, sprawled nearby across her fiance, but internally, your heart was racing, muscles tensed like you wanted to run.

“Okay?” Sam murmured into the top of your head, one hand tracing absent designs over your arm.

“Peachy,” you grumbled back, sarcasm bleeding into your voice in spite of yourself. You were tucked mostly between him and the arm of the lounge chair, but there was still enough of your weight on him to make you decidedly uncomfortable. You gotta lose some of that weight before you try sitting on me, Dick had said to you once, all bright white teeth and supposedly innocent teasing.

You tried in vain to keep your stupid fat thighs from touching him, like you could convince them to condense into a smaller space through sheer force of will. Of course, the laws of physics weren’t on your side, and all you succeeded in doing was wriggling around like a particularly uncomfortable worm, earning yourself a weird look from Meg over the fire and an awkward throat-clearing from Sam.

“Y/N,” he started, sounding vaguely strained. “Can you, um, not--”

“What about you two?” Meg said suddenly, loudly, knocking both of you out of your own awkward world. She was looking at you expectantly, and, you realized with a sinking stomach, so was most of the rest of your family.

“Sorry, what?”

Meg rolled her eyes. “What was your first date like?” she enunciated every word with exaggerated emphasis, shaking her head at you.

“Yes,” your mother chimed in, leaning forward with interest. “We’d love to hear what you did to make...this...happen,”

It was on the tip of your tongue to just give up and blurt out, we’ve never had one. Sam must have been able to feel the tension vibrating through you, though, and pulled you to settle back against him, taking over answering the question.

“I met her through my brother,” he said easily, and you could vaguely feel him winding some of your hair up around his finger. “I came over one afternoon and there she was, asking his boyfriend if their bees could smell fear,”

You flushed at the memory. Yeah, you’d agreed to use the real story of how you met, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t embarrassing. Poor Cas had had to spend a solid half hour convincing you that the bees weren’t going to attack you that day.

“She had on this pink sundress, and I heard her laughing, and I just thought...she was beautiful. Took me forever to do anything about it, though,” Sam went on, and that was all true too, the dress you’d been wearing and the fit of laughter you and Cas had broken into when Sam first showed up in the backyard. You hadn’t expected him to remember that much detail, though, and it did something strange to your insides to listen to it.

“I took her to the diner on 5th Street,” Sam admitted, still playing with your hair. “I was too afraid of screwing up to come up with something more original.” He sounded so adorably hesitant, even now, that your head was popping up before you could think about it, could remember that he was just weaving a story.

“Hey, I liked it fine,” you protested, and it hit you like a sudden gut punch that there was something to remember. Because the first time Sam took you anywhere was to the 5th Street diner that was halfway between your place and Dean’s. You’d only done it to plan something for Dean’s birthday last year, and of course it wasn’t a real date, but the two of you really had been there.

Sam’s only limit in this conversation was the world of his own imagination. If he wanted to, he could have told everyone that he’d taken you skydiving in New Zealand for your first date, and yet here he was, using memories from your real life with a dopey smile on his face.

“Sickening,” Meg was saying dryly, a smirk on her lips to take the sting out of it. “Hey, Y/N, when you marry him, can I wear jeans?” If there was anything you should have been deflecting, it was that, squashing thoughts of marriage from the group’s mind before anyone latched onto it, but all you said was, “I’ll think about it,”

That was apparently enough to satisfy Meg, and the conversation moved on to other things that thankfully weren’t focused on you and Sam. You sighed heavily, and Sam slid one big palm over your hair, tucking your head down to rest against his chest. It was comfortable, and you were too tired in the flickering firelight to keep worrying, and you let yourself melt against him, absorbing his warmth as your eyes fluttered shut. Sam never let up on combing his hands through your hair, lulling you into a half-conscious state that barely registers anything beyond overlapping voices and the pop of the bonfire and Sam.

It occurred to you suddenly, as you drifted somewhere between awareness and spaced-out calm, that it had been a very long time since someone had just held you. None of your family had ever been particularly tactile, save for the required gestures and whatever new tactic your mother was using to disguise her fussing. Dean and Cas and Charlie always gave you a hug when they saw you, but they were quick, always moving on to something else. And you’d never once had a boyfriend that held you for anything more than sex.

“Hey,” Sam murmured lowly against the top of your head. “Still with me, darlin’?”

You blinked sleepily, raising your head to peer up at him, and he gave a low chuckle that you felt more than heard, smiling gently at you.

“It’s late. Unless you wanna sleep out here?” he raised an eyebrow at you teasingly, shifting underneath you to sit up a bit more.

A quick glance around showed that you were the only ones left outside, somehow, and the fire was nothing more than a handful of faintly glowing coals in the bottom of the pit. “How did we...where did everyone--” you tried, brain still not quite online enough to process how you’d somehow slept through everyone getting up and leaving. Knowing your family, they wouldn’t have been quiet about it.

“I didn’t want to move you,” Sam shrugged sheepishly. “You seemed like you needed it,”

“Oh, yeah, I was probably drooling all over you,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes up into your skull.

“S’fine,” Sam looked a little hesitant, a little awkward, but mostly he looked strangely content, and for just a moment, you could convince yourself that this was your real life, that you and Sam could do this whenever you wanted, that you could always be this close.

“So I get to see you in a fancy dress tomorrow, huh?” Sam nudged you lightly, smiling.

You huffed. “Don’t remind me, it’s ugly. It’s all...clingy,” you wrinkled your nose.

“You make most things look good,” Sam promised, like it was the obvious thing to say and didn’t send your stomach flipping around rebelliously.

“That’s very nice of you to say,” you said with mock sweetness before scowling at him, “and also a blatant lie.”

“Is not,” Sam looked affronted, and you were struck with a sudden desire to kiss the pout off of his soft lips. Damn it, Y/N, don’t you dare go there, you snapped at yourself instantly.

“God, I can’t wait for this week to be over,” you groaned out instead, trying to pull the conversation onto safer ground. You flashed him a cheerful smile, your words more a reminder to yourself than to him when you tack on teasingly, “You’re almost off the hook, boyfriend,” Of course, because the universe hated you and took great pleasure in reminding you, it took very little to send everything sliding downhill from there.

Sam’s answering smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he shifted slightly in the chair, as if he was debating something. “Y/N, I--”

“We’re so close to not having to spend every waking moment together,” you chirped, like an idiot, and, still sitting inches away from the man you had to remember you could not have, you watched hurt and something darker flash across his expression.

Sam clenched his jaw, taking a breath in like he was going to say something, and then, for the second time in as many days, slammed his lips into yours without any warning.

Conscious thought turned into static as you surrendered to the onslaught of his mouth moving over yours, sending a bolt of electricity flying through your entire body. If Sam’s kiss on the driveway was tinged with desperation, this one was worse. As cliche as you knew it sounded, Sam kissed you like a starving man, hands sliding across your back to pull you impossibly closer as he devoured your mouth, swallowing your meep of surprise and sliding his tongue against yours.

Sam shifted beneath you in the chair, abruptly bringing you into contact with the noticeable bulge in his well-worn jeans, and it was more instinct than anything else that had you grinding down against him, pulling a choked sound out of his throat that only encouraged you. There was a heady thrill in knowing that it was you doing this, Sam doing more in five minutes to make you feel desirable than anyone else ever had, and the slide of your bodies felt strangely inevitable, like it was the matching other half to the sensation that had been stuck in your chest since you turned off the freeway in Sam’s car a week ago.

You wondered for a split second if his touch would still be able to set you on fire the same way if he hadn’t spent days smiling at you, talking you up, defending you, and the harsh reminder of why you were even here at all hit you like ice water. You scrambled to your feet so quickly that you narrowly missed kneeing Sam in the crotch, and then you were backing away, your hands flying uselessly around your face to push your hair back and somehow wipe the blush off your cheeks.

You couldn’t do this. You were supposed to know better. And you weren’t going to let Sam Winchester break your heart, even unintentionally, because you didn’t know if you could survive that.

“What are you doing?” you hissed out, straightening your clothes hastily.

Sam scrambled to sit up in the reclined lounge chair, confusion painted across his face and his chest still heaving with ragged breaths that should not have been affecting you the way they were. “W-what?”

You threw your hands up, impatience and anger rising up to protect you from the weight of your fear. “There’s nobody watching us, Sam. There’s no point in faking it,”

“Faking it,” Sam echoed flatly, hazel eyes flicking over you rapidly like he was trying so hard to understand. It might have been a little heartbreaking if you weren’t too preoccupied with guarding yours.

“Yeah,” you went on, digging yourself further because you never knew when to stop. “Look, I know we’ve been putting on a show but you can’t just--” you trailed off limply, not even trying anymore to label the storm of emotions in your ribcage. “People like us don’t do this for real,” Guys like you don’t look at girls like me.

“Huh. Well I’m glad I could help you with your show,” Sam spat out coldly, and you froze at the tone. You’d heard it once before, when Sam had once taken apart Castiel’s asshat older brother over immigration politics, and Luke had yet to show his face since. Charlie called it the I went to Stanford law now let me tell you all the reasons this argument is over voice. And you’d never once thought it would be directed at you.

“Sam, I--”

He was already gone, a rapidly shrinking shadow disappearing into the house on long legs you couldn’t hope to catch up with. Fuck.

You spent the night before Ruby’s wedding staring at the ceiling, hands folded across your chest and so still you could probably have passed for a medieval tomb effigy. Beside you in the dark, Sam’s breaths were too shallow, too even to pass for sleep, but neither of you said a word. He’d already had the lights off by the time you convinced your leaden legs to carry you back into the house and up the stairs, and you’d just changed into pajamas like a robot and laid down in defeat. You didn’t sleep.

Sam had no day-of obligations, so you left him in bed when the sun finally rose, swallowing against the sick pit in your stomach and making your way to Ruby’s bedroom, where there was already enough shrieking to compound the headache drilling through your skull. For the first time, though, you actually felt grateful for your sister and her antics--the storm of chaos she was whipping up and her endless, high-pitched demands left you with no brain space to think about your monumental fuck-up the night before.

You jammed a pin into your hair impatiently, cursing when the ends slipped out of your fingers for the hundredth time, and bit down hard on your red-painted lip. The maid of honor didn’t get to throw a tantrum on the wedding day.

“Well don’t you look like cold shit,” Meg commented dryly, her head popping up in the mirror over your shoulder. She was already dressed, wearing the gray bridesmaid dress fair better than you were going to, and she snapped her fingers impatiently. “Gimme,”

You put the card of hair pins into her hand wordlessly, fighting the irrational sting of tears in your eyes when she coiled your hair up easily, looking for just a second like she was your little cousin again, soaking wet on the bathroom floor and laughing.

“Is Ruby getting to you?” she murmured, a calculating look on her face as she studied you in the mirror, trying to crack your shitty mood. “You’re almost done, you know.”

“Yeah, no, I know,” you said hollowly.

Meg cocked her head, reaching around you for a bottle of hairspray. “Okay, not Ruby. Which is shocking, by the way. So what gives?”

“Nothing,”

“Wow. You’re usually better at bullshitting than this.” She arched a brow. “Tell you what. I can cover you for five minutes, go find your boy. Can’t have you moping your way down the aisle, Ruby’ll kill you if you ruin the photos.”

“Sam can’t do anything,” you returned flatly, leaning forward mechanically toward the mirror to examine your slightly-wobbly eyeliner.

“Sure he can. Boy’s so in love with you it’s nauseating,” Meg countered cheerfully, making a face at you.

“He’s not,”

Meg scrunched up her face at those words, frowning as she pulled up the bodice of her dress. “What’d you do, have a fight or something? Jesus, just kiss and make up,”

“It’s fake,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, and once you’d started, it took very little for the whole story to come pouring out to the one person that might listen. “It’s fake, the whole thing’s fake, he’s...he’s just Dean’s brother, we wanted to get my mom off my back--” You took a shuddering breath, wincing at how stupidly hysterical the whole thing made you sound.

“Bullshit,” Meg declared solidly, grabbing the eyeliner pen out of your hand impatiently. “Give me that, you’re doing a shit job.”

You surrendered to the gale force that was your cousin, letting her manhandle your head into her preferred position and shutting your eyes obediently while she drew a neat line across your eyelid. “No, Meg, it’s--”

“It’s bullshit,” she repeated, holding up a hand to stop you as you reopened your eyes to protest. “No, I don’t care what you’re gonna say. Maybe it was fake for you, but there’s no way in hell anybody could fake the way he looks at you. That boy is so gone on you it’s not even funny. He’s your unicorn, and I’m kinda jealous, so whatever you did,” she narrowed her eyes. “Fix it.”

“Meg, you don’t understand--”

“Yeah, you’re damn right I don’t understand.” She cut you off, crossing her arms and somehow managing to look just as intimidating in a bridesmaid’s dress as she did in a black leather jacket. “This family is a shitshow. I know it, you know it, everybody knows it. So why are you still listening to them?”

“I don’t--” you started weakly.

“Just because you’re not a size two and marrying into the Roman Enterprises fortune doesn’t mean anything, Y/N. You don’t not deserve him, or whatever, so get your fucking head on straight.” Meg rolled her eyes, gesturing to the dress hanging next to you in a clear sign that her warm fuzzy conversation capacity had been reached. “Get dressed.”

It took you a long time to obey, staring at yourself in the little mirror station that Aunt Abaddon had had set up for everyone in the bridal party to get ready. As you zipped up the clingy gray dress, Meg’s blunt words bouncing around in your head, your eyes catalogued every curve, every flaw you’d had memorized and hated by the time you were thirteen. It was just something you lived with, a low hum in the back of your conscious that reminded you not to pose the wrong way for photos and to stay away from bikinis and to adjust the way your clothes fit when you sat down.

Except Sam had never once made you feel that you had to. Sam made you feel like a person before a body, somehow convinced you that the words your family had been hurling at you for years were lies, and when he called you beautiful you wanted to believe him. And as Meg’s words echoed in your head once more, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, she was right about some of it.

You pinched your lips into a wry smile in the mirror, giving yourself one last cursory onceover before you resolutely turned away to go see if Ruby was ready. Your job today was to be a maid of honor. And anything else, no matter what Meg thought she knew...you knew it was already too late.

tags: @vicmc624 @thebookisbtr @alicedopey @still-a-demon-very-ineffable

#supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam x reader #reader insert #x reader #plus size reader #supernatural #spn #series

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holdmyhopeinyourhands · 4 years ago

Note

What if theyre asking you why you like psg so they can be reminded why they still like psg as well.

Then that is a different story entirely. I could write an essay about why I like PSG. Probably write a book on it if I really tried.

Liking psg is hard during the tough times and an elation during the good times. But through it all it always feels like home.

So if anyone wants to know why I like psg to remind themselves as to why they do so themselves, well.....

I like psg because they grow. They learn and grow and it's often painful and ugly and hard. But they do. They learn to respect each other, they learn to work with each other and more than anything, they learn to win for each other.

When it comes to the big stage, they lose more than they win, but at the end of the day, they do that together too.

I like how much they integrate the new players into the squad almost immediately. I like how no players ever feel truly left out. I like how they vacation together, party together, hang out with each other, and celebrate their children's birthdays together.

I adore how much they refuse to let themselves be bullied. How they are so unapologetically psg. That it doesn't matter how much the entire footballing world hates their club because they go out there every week to represent, not their owner, but themselves.

I like how they always, always stand up for each other. Picking unnecessary fights sure. But they never abandon one of their own to face an opponant alone. With psg, you fight and get carded together and that's just the unwritten rules.

But more than anything, I love how they win together. The sheer happiness, the shouts, the stumbling down the stairs and the utter rediculousness of tumbling around the floor in a puppy pile of happiness. I love the hugs, and the kisses and the stupid traditions that honestly should be axed. I love how much they love Tuchel despite us fans doubting him from time to time. And I love with all my heart how they can have a good time even during the worst of days.

I guess loving psg sucks. And it hurts and often leads to heartbreak, rage, frustration and tears.

But at the end of the day, they are the same boys who threw Marco's phone around over a pool until they accidentally dropped it in the water. They are the same idiots who all piled together in a golf cart and nearly ran their teammates over as well as innocent bystandards, they are the same fools who screamed gab gab gab at camels and the same clowns who got stuck in an elevator together because they somehow could not fathom that entering as 10 people in an elevator only ment for 8, would not end well.

I love psg because they are unapologetically themselves, and watching them overcome the odds, the injuries, the heartbreaks, the losses..... it shows me that in this wide wide world, anything is possible.

At the end of the day I choose to love them because no matter how hard it is, I could never imagine a world where I didn't adore them with all my heart.

So yeah, I guess it's quite easy to put into words why I love them if I try. So anon dear, there you go. Loving psg is hard. But unloving them is pretty much impossible.

#psg #football #ask #football ask #anon #thoughts #i guess i needed the reminder #so thank you anon for letting me put into words why i like them so much #it's hard right now #but it's psg #they'll be back

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Love, Maybe? {14}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. 3 years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

Note: Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Slightly Edited/Proofread**

**Partially Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 14: Finding Vixen

-Vixen-

“Wow, things are moving quickly.”

You spun around the construction site the crew was making progress with the space that would be your restaurant. You couldn’t believe in a matter of weeks what was happening.

“Things move quickly when everything aligns,” Zack responded from behind you. You looked to him and smiled, but as you stared at him, you only saw one face looking back at you. The smile slipped from your lips, and you gulped down the emotion threatening to spill out. Turning your back, you tried your best to pull yourself together.

“You okay Vixen?”

Clearing your throat, you nodded as you took a few steps away to what would or could be the spot for the outdoor eating spot. You bit your bottom lip, while a swell of pride and accomplishment fulled you, sadness and a feeling of being overwhelmed flooded you as well. It had been four days since you’d seen Chris, four days since your entire world had come crashing down, four days since the feelings you thought were long gone surfaced again, four days since the encounter you’d always dreaded and planned would go smoothly went the opposite. Sighing you took a deep breath and turned to face Zack, Kassius and the small team that was assembled for your expansion.

“Are you happy with this so far? Any suggestions?”

Glancing around you took in the demolition that looked just to have begun. You shook your head.

“No, this looks to be the beginning nothing much to make suggestions on. I’d like to look at it again once it’s cleared out, just want to make sure everything transitions right.”

“Absolutely. I’ve seen Giovanni’s in San Fran; I can imagine how particular you are about the visual of your restaurant. As long as we’re on schedule, things should be clear in another day or two,” Timothy one of the members of the team said.

You nodded and made your way to the front door as everyone else followed. When you stepped out into the LA sun, you placed your sunglasses on your nose. Zack approached beside you and put his hand on the small of your back.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just haven’t gotten a lot of sleep the last few days, and it’s always a hassle moving in.”

Zack nodded and slowly rubbed your back. You tried not to shy away from his touch.

“I can treat you to a relaxing night, dinner, a drink, maybe a massage.”

He smiled softly, and you felt the genuineness of his offer, but you knew it wasn’t something you were going to pass on. You smiled, hoping to soften the blow.

“You’re so sweet Zack, I appreciate it, I really do, but since the move, Ella hasn’t gotten back to her regular sleeping schedule I need to focus on her right now. I’m sorry.”

He looked as if he were trying to swallow the rejection. You hoped he wouldn’t make it a big thing. In all truth, while you liked his company, you really didn’t want to date. You didn’t feel much of anything for anyone, except him. Zack nodded, looked down, and nodded some more.

“I understand. You’re a mom first. It’s admirable. I’m not going to lie and say I’m not disappointed, but I understand. Just uh—I want you to know that I like you Vixen, I didn’t expect it, but there it is. I would like to get to know you better really try to build something with you.”

“Uuugh, jeez Vix. What do you say to that?”

After you looked around you taking notice of how close the others were you decided now wasn’t the right place to let him down. You also didn’t want to lead him on.

“All right Vixen, so we’re going to schedule another walk through once all demo is done, and we’ll make some decisions. I have a few mocks for you to look over and hopefully by then we’ll have some ideas,” Kassius said.

“Yes, I’ll look over these.”

You took the folder that looked thicker than a George A. Romano novel and bugged your eyes out.

“Good lord.”

“Yes, a lot of decisions to be made, this is the fun part,” he finished with a broad smile on his face.

“I’ll see you then. Are you coming, Zack? We’re still on for golf?”

Zack looked at you and nodded once he realized you weren’t going to respond to his declaration. You were glad your shades were darker than the midnight sky because your eyes weren’t hiding anything.

“Yeah. I’ll call you,” Zack said before he walked to Kassius and the two walked off to Kassius’ bright red sports car. You nodded your head to the rest of the team and made your way to your rental car.

You looked into the mirror and shook your head before you started your engine to begin on your to-do list. At the top was picking up some more groceries, then some office supplies and then to pick up some stuff for Ella. You hated the grocery places around the house; they were overpriced for no reason, and the produce never looked fresh. That meant you were going to drive over five miles to get to the supermarket Zack told you about—Gleason’s.

As you drove your mind drifted back to seeing Chris. The last time you’d seen him, you’d told him to have a nice life. You were pissed and hurt, and it seemed like a good enough thing to say. Shit, you didn’t even know why you were pissed, you brought it on yourself. You were stupid enough to think that there was anything possible between the two of you.

You should have known better. The way he carried himself, the way he spoke, and dressed it screamed bachelor, screamed down for a good time and nothing more. Every alarm rang off in your head about him the minute you saw him at the table. Everything in you screamed “don’t,” but the other voice in you said, “just do it, it’s Vegas.” Yeah well, “it’s Vegas” turned into a kid and haunting memories. That didn’t change the fact that he was still gorgeous and his shoulders were bigger than ever.

“Of course he had to be gorgeous. Of course he couldn’t turn ugly or have gained thirty pounds of fat. No, he got sexy as fuck and gained thirty pounds of muscle.”

You groaned loudly and focused again on the GPS that predicted you’d reach your destination in five minutes. Once you parked in the lot, you roamed the aisles pushing the cart before you.

“Black tea, herbal tea, coffee, check.” You dropped the items in the cart and went perusing down the next.

“Rice Krispies, honey bunches of oats, oatmeal, flour, food coloring, sugar, yeast, check.”

You turned down the refrigerator aisle to scan for eggs, milk, butter, cheese, yogurt, orange juice, coffee creamer, jello, cream cheese, and that disgusting iced coffee drink Nexus loved. With your list about half done you allowed yourself to get distracted in the produce section where they held fresh flowers. You loved fresh flowers. There were pink, red, blue, yellow and even white flowers of all varieties. You decided on two beautiful assortments of pink and yellow roses and a separate one of pink orchids, you loved orchids. Tipping your head down to take a whiff of the fragrant flowers you looked over to the other side of the section and saw the actor Nexus was losing her mind over—Anthony Mackie. Quickly putting the flowers in your cart you made a u-turn to get back on track, you definitely didn’t want a run in.

Just as you thought you were safe in the bread aisle holding two selections of bread, one you liked and one Ella couldn’t get enough of you you saw him. Your legs thought you had time to make another getaway, but your brain knew better, he saw you too. Anthony approached you with a friendly smile on his face as he tipped his hat lower. You knew it was pointless, but you still turned and rolled out the aisle. As soon as you made it to the soda and water aisle, he was at your side.

“Vixen right?”

Sighing, you nodded. “That’s right.”

“I’m going to say you didn’t see me, that’s why you walked away; otherwise, that was rude.”

You snorted and shook your head. He had to be kidding.

“I was trying to protect your incognito look. I’m thinking if these people knew they were walking next to The Falcon himself they’d draw a scene and there goes your disguise. By the way, that’s a horrible disguise.”

Anthony chuckled and nodded his head.

“Of course you’re as snarky as your sister. Speaking of, how is she? Is she here?”

You looked at Anthony as he quickly looked up and down the aisle as if looking for her. Scoffing again you responded, “No, she’s not here. Why does it matter?”.

“Just curious.”

“Bullshit!”

You laughed out loud and pushed the cart further and placed other items in your cart. “I can see right through you. Looks like another one bites the dust.”

“Another one bites the dust? What does that mean?”

“It means you’ve been hit with the Nexus haze. Almost every man that speaks to her for any amount of time falls under her spell. You Mr big-time movie star are no different.”

Anthony smiled and shrugged, but he didn’t look as smug as he usually did, no this time he looked as if he felt threatened as if he were worried. He should be Nexus wasn’t half a woman like these barbie doll actresses and models she was one hundred percent that bitch and she was a force to be reckoned with. The two of you walked in silence for a few feet.

“So, I learned a fun fact recently. You’d never believe it,” Anthony began.

“Oh yeah, what fun fact is that?”

“Three years ago, a woman went to Vegas for some fun and ended marrying Captain America himself.” Your brain failed to communicate with your legs, and you just stopped in the middle of the aisle.

“He told him. Shit!”

“But you believe it, because—,” Anthony leaned into your ear and whispered. “You are that woman.”

You looked to him, unsure what to say. You could deny, deny, deny, but you were sure Chris was the one to tell him. You sighed again.

“Don’t worry, he’s my best friend, your secret is safe with me.” You walked again and turned down another aisle.

“Was it shock that had you running like a bat outta hell, or was it something else? Do you hate him?”

“I hate no one; there is no time for all of that. I have too many things to accomplish.”

“Okay, a mature one. He lucked out,” Anthony joked. The humor of it was lost on you. You didn’t bother laughing or smiling about it either.

“It was good seeing you again, take care,” you rushed out as you walked to the cash-out. You didn’t know if you’d gotten everything, but you needed to get out of there. It was insane; every second you spent around him, you felt it was only a matter of time before he saw the truth through your eyes, or seeping from your pores.

You unloaded the groceries on the belt then saw Anthony help. Rolling your eyes, you stayed quiet.

“How do you feel about seeing him again after so long?”

Groaning you turned to him your frustrations seeped out. “What’s it to you? What’s with all the questions? We did what we did, but we also went through with the divorce, it’s all water under the bridge now. No need to keep talking about it.”

Anthony studied you as you continued to unload the groceries so the cashier could do her job. You were usually good at keeping your emotions in check, but everything was becoming a lot more difficult. You hated it.

“Whew, that sounds like a lot of hurt and anger, years worth of it. Maybe not so much water under the bridge, huh.” Antony’s eyes bored into you, and you narrowed yours. Anthony nodded again and stepped back.

“Take care of yourself Vixen. Oh, and could you give your sister a message for me? Tell her I didn’t mean to hurt her, I didn’t plan on it. I was telling her the truth.”

As quickly as he appeared, he disappeared, allowing you to focus again. You moved as quickly as you could to wrap up the rest of your errands. By the time you made it home, the sun was down, and you had a car full of shit. After thirty minutes of unloading and unpacking, you dropped onto the couch to catch your breath. Ella ran to you, you quickly scooped her up and dropped kiss after kiss across her face. She released an uproar of giggles that made your heart swell.

“Top, top, top!”

“No, no, no, take all mommy’s kisses, take them all!”

Her laughter filled the entire room, and soon, Nexus was beside you holding Ella down as she tickled her small ribs. This only made her wiggle and scream even more. The two of you slowly stopped, and Ella settled down comfortably in your arms, holding tightly to you.

“Long day?”

You looked to Nexus and nodded.

“That’s a big book.”

“It is, and I have a few more days to look through and find my aesthetic for the next round of meetings. Things are moving fast. Maybe we can be in and out of LA sooner than I thought.”

Nex gave you a look that said: “be real, aren’t you forgetting something.” You ignored it and flipped through the design pages.

“Vixen.”

“What do you think of this one? It’s airy and modern but still has a traditional vibe.”

Flipping to another page, you have the book your full attention. Seeing another contender, you showed your sister.

“Ooh, this looks very modern like a real celebrity restaurant. Doesn’t say much to traditional comfort but what the hell step into the times, right.”

“Vixen!”

“What!?”

“You know what,” Nexus exasperated. You shrugged and continued to flip the pages determined not to address what Nex clearly wanted you to.

“Vixen, you know damn well you can’t leave LA without telling Chris about Ella.” You groaned and rolled your eyes.

You knew you shouldn’t have told her shit. Now it would be even harder to ignore the shoulds. When you didn’t answer after a few minutes, she took the heavy binder off your lap and placed it on the side table nearest her. Groaning you stood and walked back in the kitchen to busy yourself, hoping it would distract you. You took out the meat for the meatballs you planned on making to accompany the spaghetti—Ella’s favorite. Refusing to take the hint, Nex walked in and crossed her arms before the island. You knew ignoring her would only work for so long, but you were going to milk it for every second you could.

You took out the flour and the other ingredients to make your signature pasta. Once you opened the fridge to grab some tomatoes and herbs for your sauce and closed the door, you came face to face with Nexus’ annoyed face. You snorted unable to hide your amusement.

“This isn’t funny Vix. It’s serious and a huge thing. It’s not just your life; you’re impacting. There are two other people, one small who cannot make a decision and the other who--,”

“Who what Nex? You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s really like,” you blurted out slamming the cutlery drawer a tad harder than you intended.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Again you ignored her and began washing your produce, focusing on getting every invisible speck of dirt. You’d told her the cliff notes version, beginning, middle, then end. You didn’t tell her the in between. You didn’t want to relive it out loud, you were fine keeping it a trip you took every night before you went to sleep. Once the produce was washed, you got to work chopping and dicing. You knew you were stressed because the knife was moving faster than ever and you knew she saw it too.

“I’m waiting. What does that mean? What is he really like?”

Kissing your teeth, you shook your head, “Forget it, Nex; it’s not important.”

“Clearly it is. There has to be a reason why you never told him about her, a reason you never claimed the child support that was rightfully yours. You know you could have used it while you were pregnant and the parts of the first year. Why? Did he hurt you? does he hit women?”

Nex shifted her stance, and you knew she was ready to pop off. She’d always been your keeper, your protector. You remembered a few girls she’d seriously beat down because they looked at you wrong across the playground. You sighed out, taking a pause with the chopping to give her a reassuring look.

“No, he didn’t hit me.” You saw her shoulders relax and her expression softening; then you returned to the task at hand.

“So he didn’t hit you. He did hurt you though.”

Nexus was no idiot. She knew how to hear what you said and decipher what you didn’t. You did your best to give no reaction as you moved around the kitchen.

“Okay, I get it. You didn’t tell him to spite him.”

“No!”

Though you adamantly rebuked that, part of you felt a way and you wondered if any part of you felt that way.

“Okay. So he hurt you, you ran back home with your tail tucked, and you hid away for the next near three years. What did he do?”

“Nex, please. It’s not important. Let’s drop it.”

“I’m trying to help. You seem to be ignoring or purposely forgetting that you have to tell him. I owe him nothing, and I don’t know him from Adam and my loyalties don’t lie with him that’s with you--,”

“So drop it. Have my back, be my pitbull!”

“Vix, don’t ever get it twisted and think I’m not riding for you one hundred. It’s always been you and me against the world, and it’s still that way. Just—this goes past that. This is a morally right and wrong issue. How would you feel not knowing you had a mini replica of you running around the world?”

“Fine, because I wouldn’t know.” Nexus walked around the island to you and put her arm around you. She could sense your breakdown was imminent. She gently rubbed your bare arm and let the silence fill the room. You closed your eyes, hoping to stop your warring thoughts. Of course part of you knew what she was saying was sound and right, but the other side refused to hear it.

“You’re afraid,” Nexus worded.

There it was plain as day, no hidden pretenses, no shade, no covers, just blatant truth. You were afraid. You were shitfaced scared.

“It’s okay to be scared. There is nothing wrong with it. Hell if you weren’t scared I’d be worried because that would show that you really have no intention of doing the right thing. I know you, Vix, do the right thing is your middle name. Somewhere inside you know you have to tell him, want to or not, have to and should outweigh it this time.”

“This is why I didn’t want to go to that stupid expo or come to this dumb place. It has a way of stealing and crushing dreams,” you groaned out.

“Or realigning them and showing you a new, different, better dream.”

You glanced at Nexus, took a deep breath, and released it. She was right — bottom line.

“Fuck!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Chris-

415-653-7575.

It wasn’t hard to get. All he had to do was google her and her location. He had all her information from three years ago. He had her full name, city, state, P.O Box information. In truth, he had everything he needed, and if he needed more, he could easily get more, it was a perk of being him. In all the years he didn’t use it, didn’t search, didn’t allow his curiosity to take over. Today he did.

It took him less than a minute to find her on Google, her name was uncommon, there was literally one Vixen Giovanni in San Francisco. It took him another minute to find her restaurant. Her restaurant. He was impressed. She said she wanted to open a restaurant and be a chef and she’d accomplished it, and she was successful. He spent nearly twenty minutes just looking through food reviews, articles, and pictures all of her and everything he remembered thinking and feeling those years ago came back.

He suspected it would be like this—feared it really which made him avoid doing this very thing for so long. He was afraid he was right, and he was. It took him the next hour to get the balls to call the number for her restaurant. An hour where he went over and over what he would say. He didn’t know where you were; it had been nearly a week since he saw you, you could have gone back to San Francisco.

He went over and over what he would say if you answered. He didn’t know if he should go with a calm and cool introduction; “Hey Vixen, remember me your ex-husband,” or an apologetic one; “I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from but—.” It was impossible to read you from the quick exchange days ago. You hadn’t spoken, you didn’t look angry, or happy or anything, your expression was blank, and then you were gone. He didn’t know what to expect.

When hour two was near, he bit the bullet and dialed your restaurant. The hostess transferred him to the manager who informed him you were out of town. Due to his quick thinking, he pretended to be interested in a potential business opportunity, it was then the manager gave him your cell phone number. He was surprised it was that easy. Now that was where he was, staring at your number with a bottle of beer on his right side, whiskey on the other and a joint in his hand. He leaned back and took several long puffs before holding them for a breath allowing the drug to haze away all his thoughts. Once he blew out the smoke, he took a long swig of his beer.

“Jesus Chris, it’s not hard, just dial the number. One step at a time.”

He took up his phone and punched in the numbers and hovered his finger over the green button, thinking about his actions one last time. Taking another long pull from his joint, he tapped the button and put it on speaker. It rang once, twice, three times and before he tapped the red button to end the call, a voice called out through the line.

“Hello?”

His brain froze, and speech did with it, so he sat there completely flustered.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

Still, he didn’t speak. Only when the line went dead did he move, he dropped back against the couch and groaned loudly into the night sky.

“Come on, man!”

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****If the spacing is all messed up I apologize. I copy and past from Word and try to anticipate Tumblr messing up the spacing and fix it but once I push post everything always jumbled out. Sorry guys.

#love maybe fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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pain-somnia · 4 years ago

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(1)so, i've been re-reading AOY for like, the third time, and i just wanted to tell u how much i appreciate the way you write all of the characters. i feel like you approach them with empathy, or at least an understanding of some sort. like, you don't ignore their flaws or their virtues, you don't get viciously against or in favor of any of them. and even if your fic is focused on Hyde&Jackie and their relationship, u give depth to almost all of the characters,

(2) none of them could be replaced with a cardboard cutout, u know? and the dynamics in the group are fantastic, everyone matters to everyone in one way or another (although there are different degrees of closeness, of course). a long time ago i had started reading the eric/buddy fic u mentioned, and while it was well written and intriguing, i couldn't get past the first few chapters bc i can't handle fics that are too biased (not to say that it was bad, it just wasn't my thing).

(3) plenty of other t7s fanfics are biased too (to a certain extent), which is fine and completely normal, but idk, i just love that u seem to care for everyone at least a little bit. it's one of the things that makes AOY so compelling to me. i'm looking forward to what's next, especially bc i wanna know how Hyde&Jackie are gonna deal with their new-but-not-really relationship,

(4)and i NEED more Buddy&Fez, and Jackie&Donna. i also i have a good guess as to the ship you're gonna introduce, so i'm excited to see how you're gonna tackle them 👀. anyway, i didn't mean for this message to get so long lmao. hope you're doing well 💕.

First, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING MY WORK I’m in awe that you re-read it that much (I’m always in awe when ppl re-read my work)

I’m blushing so hard from your compliments. When I first came up with the idea to do this time travel fic I did mostly focus on Jackie and Hyde but then I started to think about the other characters and how Jackie isn’t entirely selfish and she is a compassionate person, so why shouldn’t relationships with other characters be mentioned or highlighted in some way?

(gonna try and put everything under the cut so I don’t clog up the dash but if it doesn’t work I’m so sorry)

Besides the fact that the show was about the group of friends, a huge bit of inspiration for giving more attention to the other characters especially having them do activities with each other especially outside of the basement actually came from my own years as a teen and into my early 20s. The zenmasters fandom is still really new to me unlike the sasusaku fandom so many don’t know about how I got really sick and lost the closeness I used to have with my irl friends due to my illnesses and inability to do all of the things I used to do with them. This is my way of capturing my love for my old friends in a way.

My home used to have the same feeling as Eric’s basement (every time my family moved my house was still THE house) and I was one of like three friends that were licensed (even up to our mid 20s) and I was the only one everyone fully trusted to drive. So in a way I was the Eric of our friend group especially when you add in my mom’s train of thought when it came to my friends and I which was that she would rather us eat everything in her fridge in kitchen and have her go broke feeding us than for us to be out doing stupid shit. It didn’t stop us from doing stupid shit but that was our life lol

we used to trespass into places (abandoned houses, abandoned asylum, parks and fields and lakes when they were closed at night), I had an ex that stole a golf cart from a security guard cuz it was there and the keys were in the ignition and we all fucking scattered when the guy showed up, we would fuck around at my house or another friend’s house and drinking and weed (and acid and shrooms) were usually involved (I was the mom friend so I always took care of everyone and was designated driver), we went to concerts even if we had to drive to other states and also went to Warped Tour almost every year until I got sick af. We would find the perfect places to watch meteor showers and hold bonfires at a friend’s house (although we did start a bonfire in a soccer field we had no business being in at that time at night).

And we would drive around for hours with no destination. We typically told our parents we were going bowling when we did and we never fucking went bowling lol

There’s so much that we did

This is all the energy of my personal experience being a teenager with access to a minivan and then my own car that really made me think about the T7S gang and even though I want to focus so much on Jackie and Hyde and their romance, I feel like I would be doing such a disservice to the friendships in the show by not having them be actual friends in the story.

I’ve had a friend abandoned by her mother and she moved in with a bf and we all helped her (I had to teach her how to cook rice in a pot cuz her bf didn’t have a rice cooker and my mom made sure she knew she could come live with us if she got fed up with her bf’s family) and my family has opened their home to my friend and her family when they were in between homes. I’ve had to help friends through bad trips. We’ve all had our hearts broken. Some of us have dealt with being queer and learning about our own identities and the struggle with finding out who we really are. I found out my father wasn’t my biological father when I was 20 lol

And we all had each other during those moments. Just like how the T7S gang had each other. So I felt personally invested in making sure to elaborate on moments where they were hanging out and being friends to each other.

And I know. God that fic. Whenever I re-ead that fic I actually skip a lot and my last re-read of it made me feel like I couldn’t read it again just because it is way too biased. Like it completely absolves a certain character of everything and I kind of lost it when Brooke had to apologize to him in the fic....I feel like, you should definitely be able to criticize things that you love and that it doesn’t take away any love to recognize the bad with the good.

Like right now I have to show some bias against Kelso for the part of the story but I keep editing it so it’s not complete hate against him. It’s just for this part of the story he is well just being him which is unfortunately ugly and it has to be ugly until he can grow. But I feel guilty about it lol don’t hate me too much for what he has to go through first

Jackie and Donna. I have such a weak spot for them in my fic mostly because for the longest time I didn’t really have many girl friends. I was always too much of a boy, too weird, too ugly for the other girls so I didn’t have someone I was truly super close with until I was in like 8th grade. And there’s this sisterhood with Jackie and Donna that I wish they did better. Like ignoring s8 completely, there just could have been more. But the sweet moments we got were amazing. I just feel like the writers knew fuck all how to make the girls proper friends without feeling like they were losing the characters and how they were.

i will probably be introducing that ship in chapter 8. I’m just struggling wrapping up the last bit of chapter 7 aka the January 31st part. I’ve just been staring at page 56 and wondering if I’m doing it right.

#asks #zenmasters #t7s #that 70s show

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flateshippingrates · 5 years ago

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I wanted to make a list of things southern ppl actually say (as someone who has lived in the south all their life) for your Will Solace needs:

-“Deader than Dammit” that person/animal/thing died in a shitty way and sure as hell isnt coming back

-“Finer than frog hair” you use this to say you’re really good when someone says how are you

-“God bless/bless their heart”that was dumb

-“Bless their heart BUT...” you’re about to talk shit about that person

-“If you feel froggy (then jump)” go ahead and do it, usually used in response to a question. Most ppl don’t say the “then jump” part unless someone is confused by the first part.

-“(way) over yonder” when something is far away. You gesture in the direction as you say it. If you add “way” that mean it’s super far.

-“I reckon” I guess

-“Sleeker than owls shit” Sleezy

-“Snake in the grass”-sneaky

-“If the creek don’t rise” as long as nothing happens we’ll do it/be there

-“____ as all get out” it intensifies the statement. It p much means “to the utmost degree” Like “they’re as funny as all get out” or “is busy as all get out” most ppl use it as the phrase of “good as all get out”

-“they’re/I’m nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs” you’re hella nervous

-“like a turkey in a rain storm” they’re super stuck-up (turkeys will turn their head up to the sky while it rains and essentially drown)

-“That makes about as much sense as tits on a bull” that’s pointless or confusing

-“That dog won’t hunt” so you can use it for liars or that plan won’t work

-“If that boy had an idea it would die of loneliness” he’s so dumb

-“well butter my butt and call me a biscuit” you say it when you’re surprised

-“gonna pull your tail in a knot/gonna jerk a knot into your tail” gonna beat you up if you don’t stop

-“I’m gonna hit you so hard your grandchildren will feel it” like fr stop

-“They fell out the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down” they are fucking u-g-l-y

-“that’s ugly” that’s not very nice

-“I’m so poor I couldn’t jump over a nickle to save a dime” you’re broke af

-“They don’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of” They don’t have shit/they’re poor

-“Too big for their britches” they think they’re the best thing since sliced bread

-“they’re pitching a hissy fit/bitch (fit)” throwing a tantrum

-“They don’t know whether to check their ass or scratch their watch” they’re fucking stupid

-“Colder than a witch’s titty (in a brass bra)” it’s fucking cold

-“hotter than blue blazes” it’s super hot

-“Y’all” is for up to 2 ppl. “All y’all” is a group

-“Take your sweet time” a really bitchy way to say hurry up

-“Cattywampus” something is askew

-“Hankerin” you’re craving

-“thingamajigger” a thing you forgot the name of

-“Over the shoulder boulder holders” bras

-“Coke” refers to any soda

-“Buggy” is a shopping cart

-“Cooter” or “coochie” are nasty ways to say vagina

-drop the G in words ending in “-ing”

-Country af ppl call a window a “winder” and say wash as “wrash”

-Gulf and Golf and Heel and Hill can sound similar

-“Whoopin” a way to say spanking

-“Naner” is banana (I hate this one)

-“Sammich” is a sandwich (hate this one too)

#im from tennessee but osnejdos #maybe this can give you guys ideas #and you can always ask me for southern ways to say something #will solace #southern expressions #my post

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mj-spooks · 5 years ago

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My friend recommended I ask this one. Leverage Crew as trends/products that millenials are killing.

Parker is the cereal industry. She’s a busy girl, okay, she ain’t got time to sit and eat a bowl of cereal. Fun fact about granola bars, you can eat one while suspended upside down in an elevator shaft fifty stories up, no problem. Grab it and go. Cereals either aren’t tasty, or they do nothing to actually provide any energy whatsoever. Sure it’s fine as a snack if you eat it buy the handful but for a job? For breakfast? Get out of her face with that shit.

Eliot is department stores. He doesn’t believe in buying shit that’s mass manufactured in a sweatshop, sold for an insane profit margin, and breaks after six months. Eliot is going to either A) make it himself, or B) find a craftsmen or whatever to make it for him. He believes in paying hard workers for doing hard work, and that you can’t put a price on the skill that goes into doing something by hand.

Hardison is cable television. Age of the geek, baby! Dish and Direct TV weep in fear of him. He can and will pirate anything that’s not easily available to stream, fuck you and your stupid packages. For that matter, he’s not too keen on what’s happening with streaming these days, either. He’s going to do something about that, mark his words.

Nate, dad that he is, is the golf industry. He hates it, okay. Golf is dumb, and Nate hates it. He would much rather sit around drinking scotch than waste time outside, in the heat, wearing an ugly outfit, hitting tiny balls at tiny holes that are a ridiculous distance away. Also, it’s all posturing, nobody who does it as a hobby is actually good at it. Dumb.

Sophie is chain restaurants. If you’re taking the time to eat out, you want quality. Who the hell wants to spend twenty to forty bucks on a meal that tastes like salty oily cardboard? Fun fact, if she wanted to eat garbage, she could pay a fraction of the amount at some greasy fast food joint (not that she’s doing that, either). Hole in the wall family owned places, or small but highly recommended fine dining establishments, are the way to go.

Also all of them are banks. Fuck banks.

#leverage anon #parker leverage #eliot spencer #alec hardison #nathan ford #sophie devereux

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ephrampettaline · 5 years ago

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[ chatzy with @alessafalling, @ephrampettaline, @mayaparker, @rydenbolt, @scarlettxruby, and @thatwhichbindsus ]

A sunken grocery store. Somebody’s first time, another person’s trip back to the town. Six bloods spilled and six bloods combined.

The air had been strange lately, cool and damp like standing by the coal had been. The earth, unforgiving and unwelcoming. Roots weren’t growing, new leaves weren’t budding. There was a corruption slowly settling in like an oil slick over the lake, and Ciara had no idea whether it was that a ley nearby had been drained, or if something more deadly was setting in, or if someone had just cursed her with a sense of malaise. The two gitturns that she’d adopted were settled in the little pouch she’d bought them, so she could keep an eye on them and they could be exposed to the world a little. The vet had said to be careful with them, but that they could cope with this now. Their fur was thickening out and three days ago the white one had opened its eyes. So she took them to the grocery store with her, filled up her trolley with fresh meats for them and fresh veg for her.

Ciara had almost forgotten her ill ease as she idly pet the dark one, when the fluorescent lights of the store went out. Ciara looked up, and saw only dark blue, and looked around as the shelves dissipated into wrought iron stalls, and the bright plastic wrappers of foods vanished, leaving only old, emptied cans. The light was weak and flickering, and the floor creaked and swayed.

Swayed?

There was a layer of water on the floor, slimy and thick, and the floor wasn’t on the ground at all. In fact, there was no ground at all, none for miles. Ciara stepped out of the abandoned, torn up grocery store, and looked up. Up. Up. Glass for a ceiling, with cracks. Above it, at first she thought was the night sky, until a shadow passed overhead, large, long, with a strong tail. A whale. Ciara looked to the side and there were windows there too, and beyond them kelp growing in all directions, illuminated by the light of a dozen underwater skyscrapers. In the windows, she could see shadows moving.

Maya wasn't having a great time. Sleep had pretty well escaped her for the last few nights. Between the mysterious warning that she hadn't quite managed to scrub out of her skin and the couple of things she was already trying to stay on top of, she felt the stress weighting heavily on her shoulders. But she still had to go about her day. Today found her in the grocery store, buying her things for the week. A few more comfort foods than usual were in her cart. She stopped in the middle of the aisle as something strange started to happen. "What the fuck?" Maya asked herself as a layer of water soaked the floor and her shoes. She looked around to see that was not the only thing that had changed. "Is this what you meant by they're coming?" she shouted to no one in particular, "Because I think you could've been a bit more specific."

“Maya?” Ciara called as she spun, reaching into some new, empty ley she could just about feel. Just in case it wasn’t Maya. “Who’s coming?” The little gitturns tittered and trembled against her hand, and Ciara pulled their pouch closer, just in case. Just in case. She was already breathing a little faster, this canned air that didn’t move or didn’t cycle, just creaked. She spotted the other witch with some small relief. Someone to survive this new hell with. Which was good. Someone was coming from a distant tunnel, their feet splashing in water puddles, and their giggles echoing off iron walls. “Can you fight? If we have to?”

Maya turned as she heard someone call her name. "They," she called back, "Because apparently being fucking specific isn't cool anymore." She saw Ciara just after the other witch saw her. Despite not knowing Ciara well, Maya breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wasn't completely alone. She nodded, "Yeah, I can fight." After a pause she added, "Course I was sort of hoping I wouldn't have to on my trip to the grocery store."

Ephram had been ranging around the town nonstop since the rat king at the decrepit bakery, and then the octo-beast at the dilapidated bowling alley. He found that after having encountered Essie's dust and so much of the mold in the course of duty, and then those two ugly versions of Soapberry places, he could feel his magic itching through him to lead him towards new pocket-worlds that were opening. So the grocery had been his new destination -- but even expecting something bizarre to happen didn't prepare him for being suddenly in an underwater abanadoned supermarket. The familiar voices, at least, were something that held constant. "I'm here too," Ephram called, hefting the golf bag he'd replenished after the bowling alley incident. "Is it only you two so far?" he asked Ciara and Maya, trotting up to stop next to them.

“Did you get a message about th- oh, the mould?” Ciara guessed, although she truly had no idea. “Likewise, but I guess we can’t trust this town at all. Hopefully we just have to find a way out... of here.” It was creaking again. Had Ciara mentioned she hated the creaking? “Ephram? There’s a ley here, you should connect to it,” she said, slipping into a teacher role where she hadn’t for Maya. “Just us. But someone’s coming.”

Ruby had been at the other end of the shopping center - having just finished up taking the statements of a naga couple that had just come from some mad max death race pocket, but seemed to be mostly alright now - and was headed into the store to grab something for lunch when things started to change. At first she thought she was imagining it. The doors slid shut behind her with their usual hissing sound, and she moved to grab a small basket when it cracked beneath her grip, dryrotted. Which was unusual considering the layer of water beneath her boots. She huffed a sharp breath through her nose, spinning around to face the glass doors of the store as the air suddenly became... less. It was tighter, more metallic. And the saltwater ooze of everything else made her cover her nose. "What the fuck..."

The Splicer giggled. “I can heaaaar you. Little rats digging through scraps, but they’re all gone, all gone now!” His sing song voice echoed in the large chambers, although he hardly had enough sentience left to consider himself a he. “You’ll make a fine roast and I can smell the good stuff on you. It’s mine, you hear me? MINE! Ohohoh Im going to be sooo happy when I find you!”

Ephram shook his head when Ciara mentioned a ley line. "From what I seen of these black mold creepy places, I don't reckon I'd wanna try connecting to anythang here," he said, looking around and stepping a little closer to a shelf at the thought of all the water pressure outside of the market. "Do youn's have your magic? Mine works okay. Works fair good against them beasties that seem to be lurking--" He stopped talking when The Splicer's voice started up, echoing even more unsettlingly because of the water surrounding them, and set the golf bag down between them. "By the way? I got weapons."

Maya nodded, "Yeah, I did. Sorry, I got a bit...distracted by some other stuff." She turned again as someone else approached. Her shoulders tensed, ready for a fight if it came to that. She relaxed a little when she realized it was only Ephram. She nodded in agreement with Ciara. "Yeah, just the three of us..." she was about to add so far when two voices interrupted. The first was one she recognized. Ruby. she thought. The second was decidedly foreign. "Yeah, um my dude I am super not delicious. Meat's way too tough on this one," she shouted, fully knowing that it would help whoever that was find them.

What was it with these fucking underwater scenarios?? If Ruby was afraid of one real-world thing, it was being trapped underwater and drowning. The voice that came next raised the hair on the back of Ruby's neck. A low growl rolled in her chest. She didn't know the others were there yet, so she didn't know the message was meant for all of them. It temporarily pushed fear of the water from her head. "You might rethink that once you do." She said of being found.

Though the slight tremor in her voice said otherwise.

”Ooh, a player!” The splicer replied, spinning to the sound of Ruby’s voice, sprinting in her direction with a loose limbed ferocity. The hunt was on, and the splicer was so, so hungry. Everyone walking around here was an empty husk, but not her, not her! “Lay down your bets because you’re going to be mineeee!” He spotted her, pale and dark haired and pretty as a picture, and oh, he was going to fix that.

Essie knew the feeling as soon as she landed in one of these other pocket worlds. Her third one she hunkers down for a moment. Voices down a tunnel to her right, and one echoing over everything. Not wanting to be alone she hopes with all her might the people down to her right were people she knew, or at the very least friendly. She runs down the tunnel and finds a crowd of people, almost running right into the back of Maya. Her hands reaching out to steady herself. Eyes shifting over the crowd she spotted Ephram and his golf bag. What a life she lead that a golf bag was what comforted her the most.

Ephram spotted Essie and jerked his golf bag in her direction. "You still got your rifle?" he asked hopefully. "I mean I brought a couple this time but you should really start jes ... wearin' your rifle around town. God knows I'm strapped all the time now my own self." Hip holsters, shoulder holster, and the baseball bat he favoured.

"Wait," Maya said to Ephram, "You got another gun. I got my safety training when I was fifteen." She could hear the creature sprinting after someone else trapped in the grocery store. And she was pretty sure it was Ruby. Even now though she wasn't stupid enough to go after it emptyhanded.

The voice came again, and there was movement to accompany it. Ruby turned to see ... something... sprinting all long limbs and manic speed towards her. She knew better than to run. She /wouldn't/ run. Even if she had no idea what would happen if it caught her. But Ruby had her pistol, and the katana Dani had given her (that she'd also started carrying since all this shit started going down). There was no way she was risking a stray bullet with all this glass. Heart beating out of her chest, she pulled the sword from it's charmed sheath across her back - made to look smaller than it was - and when the creature was close enough, she let the blade arch towards it, spinning to the side as she aimed for something vital.

Ephram hauled one of the rifles out of his bag and handed it to Maya, passing her a fanny pack of ammo along with it. "Sorry bout the thing," he said, gesturing at the Glee fanny pack. "Was all I had handy when I was kitting out this here golf bag."

“Suit yourself,” Ciara replied to Ephram with a shrug, although in the back of her mind, she thought that she could have used a battery. “Why do you have weapons? Did you come to the grocery store for a fight?” The white gitturn then decided to jump out of its pouch, and scrabbled up Ciara’s sleeve to her neck with a strength she didn’t know these babies had, and snarled at the hall before burying itself in her hair. And then there were four of them. “Wait, no guns. Do you want to drown?”

Essie nodded digging in the pocket of the golf bag she remembered the ammunition being in. "Had to start carrying it after my second trip into these places." she admits. "Not that I had any ammo, just hoped the sight would distract something. Relying much more on dust." Her head bouncing up to look at the unfamiliar woman in the group then at Ephram, much more likely to listen to her boss than anyone else.

Maya took the gun from Ephram and the fanny pack too. It took her a second to even realize what he was even apologizing for. "Honestly, like, whatever. Ammo's ammo." With that, she ignored the subtle loyalty dynamics and headed towards the sound of the creature and possible a sword. She skidded to a halt at the end of the aisle and raised the weapon, ready to fire.

Ephram gave Ciara a considering look when she objected to the guns. "Reckon the survival situation at the moment calls for whatever weapons we got handy," he said coolly, all traces of his more obedient student persona gone. "Don't worry. I'm sure them other two are good shots." The implication, of course, being that there was no chance at /all/ that Ephram himself might cause a stray bullet to shatter the glass. He looked in the direction that Maya had headed off. "Was she tryin' to call that talkin' beast down on somebody just now?"

The Splicer: She wasn’t scared. How charming, it would leave her all tender inside nice and gooey and juices and precoated in salt and sass already. What a treat! The splicer charged without abandon, swing a wrench he had found in his best friend’s head (or maybe he had left it there, he was oh so forgetful, wasn’t it charming?). And then she sliced right through his arm, and it flopped on the floor for a second, up and down, like a fish gasping for air. “That wasn’t very nice, play fair and die already!” He sang, and leapt again.

As the creature popped back up, Maya fired. It was an easy shot, all things considered. Only after she fired though did Ciara's words fully sink in. /Did they want to drown?" They were underwater. She made a mental note of that so that she would be careful with any shots she made next.

Essie considers their surroundings and the fact she can't swim. She didn't trust her shot as much as the other two did, watching Maya charge recklessly away from the pack she reconsiders. She doesn't discard the rifle, simply swings it behind her onto her back. Dust had been here only hope the last time, so she figured why mess with it. She'd figured out exactly how useful her limited Glamour could be. The shot from down the tunnel had Essie turn and brace herself.

Oh, Ruby was scared all right. Terrified. But she wasn't about to get eaten by some fucking monster movie reject. So when the sword met heavy, wet flesh, followed by the spray of dark, thick blood and an equally wet, fleshy flopping sound, Ruby knew she'd made a hit. When the gunshot rang out as the creature righted itself, Ruby flinched, not expecting it. She spun, momentarily distracted, to see Maya standing there with a gun. "No fucking bullets!! We'll drown!" she yelled. But that was all she could say before the creature was screeching at her again and launching itself in the air. It was fast. And close. Ruby swung again, but she misjudged the distance and was sent sprawling through water, blood-soaked mess on the floor. She shoved a hand against the creatures' throat while the other scrabbled for the sword that had slid somewhere into the dark. "Fuck... off!" she grunted, giving up on the sword and swinging at the creature's jaw.

Ciara didn’t even raise an eyebrow as Maya and Essie deferred to Ephram, because he was he sherif and authority and all that and whatever, but she did at Ephram, sinking back into a cool, cruel persona that had served her all too well on a different battlefield. The gitturn by her ear tittered, staring at Ephram too. But then Maya was off, chasing a shadow, a half being at this point, barely a man at all. His skin was so pale it was nearly translucent, starved of sunlight here and ashy, so much his skin almost had a blue tinge to it. It bled, but it had no heartbeat, not one that one could survive on. Maybe she’d just leave it to the sherif, but a gun fired and Ciara didn’t doubt that Maya was a better shot than Ciara herself, except it echoed like a bullwhip, all the way up and down the tunnels and this hallowed hall. And when everything finished ringing, there were more voices. Giggles and yells and cries and screams. A figure appeared at the bottom of the hall. Ciara tore its throat out.

Magic, good or bad sort, worked within a certain spectrum of rules. Crazy, mostly unfair, seemingly unpredictable and somewhat bendable but still rules you could single out, analyze and utilize the way you see fit or the way whatever personal limits allow you to. There are very few exceptions to that. But once in a lifetime, there comes an agonizingly stubborn knucklehead whose persistence to butt into things he had no business, knowledge or brains enough to deal with that rules just take one good, scrutinizing glance at him and say fuck it, we give up. Give him a complimentary bag of peanuts and a one-way ticket to doomed as fuck then send him on his way, cause that's where he's headin' and there's no stopping him.

Ryden's one way ticket had been for a month-long surf-around through places a less magically equipped supernatural should not step into. Well, the time-space parallel dimensions spin-dry he's been through told him it's been a couple of hours, not a month. He'll figure it out by piles of dust piled on top of old piles of dust he never cleaned on his floor in Rein's house. Right now, it felt like a couple of hours of beating through a beehive of abominations too ugly to love even if you were their momma. He was dragging one behind him by one of it's seven legs, two of which he'd pulled out himself, when the terrifying, toasty hell-like mood of the pocket universe he last rolled through turned into something Aquaman might call his secret, creepy hideout where he sometimes jacks off. "Fuck me runnin'..." He muttered, letting go of the creature he'd savagely murdered for threatening to do even worse things to him, and rounder a corner, not even trying to get the gooey, slimy liquid those things had instead of blood off himself. He was already drenched with it beyond spitting on your thumb and rubbing it off. By the commotion he was hearing ahead, he was pretty sure more nasty things awaited him.

Not even registering what it was assaulting nor what it was exactly, Ryden approached the creature ahead of him, while it was unaware in its attempts to feed on very possibly someone who'd been thrust in here by chance just like he was. A large hand grabbed at its bald scull, digging into brittle bone and ash-grey skin. He picked it up easily and tossed it aside like a rag, off Ruby and a good few feet away from the group..

The Splicer laughed and laughed and laughed and he scrabbled for her, scratching her, gouging her, trying to bite her. He - It - writhed against her hand, struggling, squirming, too keen and too hungry to care as the life was squeezing out of him. But then something tore through him, hot and cold as liquid nitrogen. He fell, turned, faced the girl that had shot at him. “Ooooh eeh heee her. I likes you! You’re a cheater! Dirty filthy little cheater! You’re going to pay for it, that’s right, but-“ and then he died, because Maya was indeed a good shot.

Maya heard the giggling down the hallway. "Okay, no guns," she finally agreed. She picked up the nearest thing off the shelf, a can of beans and got ready to throw it. Luckily, it seemed to slump over less than a second before Ryden appeared and tossed it aside like a rag doll. She had to grin at him "Ryden," she said in little more than an exhale. She turned to the others, "I think we've got more company. Sorry about that."

Ephram returned Ciara's look for a moment, his own eyes narrowing slightly before he gave a terse nod and drew his revolvers. She pulled the throat out from one of the new throng of creatures between one breath and the other, and Ephram banged together the bases of his revolver grips, silver-green magic spiking through them into the barrels. He stayed with Ciara and her gitturn -- the little creature still watching him suspiciously from behind her hair -- and shot at the emerging creatures with their sick giggles, bullets of spinning green magic that unerringly found their targets. "You dropped into any of these weirdsmobile realities yet or is this your first?" he shouted to Ciara over the increasing din. "That's why I been carryin' round them weapons. They keep poppin' up all over town."

Ruby could feel the deep rends in her flesh where the creature gouged her open. Her blood mixed with the rest of the mess on the floor, steaming hot as it ran from her wounds. She dug her fingers into the soft flesh of the creatures neck, squeezing until she heard cartilage pop and break and grind, and then it just... stopped. It was gone, and Ruby could breath. She lay there for a brief second, grimacing at the deep rends in her shoulder and stomach, before seeing Ryden standing over her. "God save the fucking Queen am I glad to see you," she told him as she pushed to her feet.

"Maya? The fuck ya doin' 'ere?" She was someone he'd least expected here. Or anywhere. Looking beyond her, he saw more faces he could recognize. "What's going on?" Looking down, he saw that the person creature was trying to nibble on was actually Ruby. "Shit, you a'ight?" He reached down to pull her up, knowing that her werewolf healing would take care of the rest. Ahead, he glanced at the rush of staggering, giggling monstrosities advancing forth at them. "Can't it just, like, for once, be a land of sparkles, polite leprechauns and unicorns? Naw?"

Retrieving her sword and wiping the gore off on her jeans - not that it did much good - after Ryden helped her up, Ruby rolled her shoulder as it slowly started to heal. "Yeah. You know me. I can take a punch," she said to her friend. "You good?" She looked at Maya and asked the same thing. But then the sounds came, and Ruby's attention turned with the rest. "Always another fucking shit show..." Ruby moved with the others next to Ephram and Ciara, unsure if she should fire her gun or not. She was a good shot, but her bullets weren't spelled like Ephram's. She could miss and then... well, they'd drown.

"I needed groceries?," Maya replied. She looked back towards the others as far as an answer for what was going on. She had an ominous warning. One that was getting clearer by the minute, but didn't yet explain all this. She turned back when she heard Ryden asking Ruby if she was okay. It was a question she wanted to hear the answer to. "Not to be a complete asshole by the way," she added mostly to Ruby, "But I am like 85% sure I actually killed it, so that God save the Queen should be directed at me." She was about to answer Ruby's other question when the rest of their company's arrival drew her attention.

“Six of us, three entries. Let’s stay close.” Ciara ignored Maya’s apology, focused on nothing but the creaking floor and the creatures headed their way. “First,” was all she said to Ephram, as the gitturn chirped and drew her attention to her left, shattering a heart there. The nausea was coming back - Ephram was right about these Leys. The world was shrinking down to a fight, a need to win, and damn the consequences to her soul as she stained the water they were standing in red, dropping four bodies in quick concession. It didn’t matter. Again. There were dozens.

"Yeah but the point is to NOT let 'um punch ya. Yer just a bag for it then." Ryden snorted, stepping up with Ruby. "Where'd ya get the fuckin' kitchen knife ya got there? In an anime?" Raising an eyebrow at Maya, he couldn't skip on a challenge to be the better one even when it was pointless. "Ya squirted a metal ball at it. I bashed its brains in. Let's do the autopsy later. I'll give ya a cookie if it's your kill." Looking back at Ephram's gun out and aimed he cringed. "Should we have guns out here? Anyone smart enough to consider that's maybe a no, cause..." He waved his hand in a general direction of... everywhere.

Essie balled her fists from her spot beside Ephram. She wasn't as good a shot as the others but she could do her best to be useful. She threw a handful of dust towards an open tunnel entrance the dust caught fire at her glamour and she looks back at the others. "Can we maybe fight about kills LATER."

Ephram glanced down at the reddening pool at their feet, leaning hard into Ciara so he could mutter closely in her ear, "--I'm in good shape right now and me and Essie got healing abilities that work in these places. If you need blood that ain't fucked up like I'm guessin' is in these critters, you don't need to ask." But Ciara knew her own magic, so Ephram felt he only needed to make the offer once. He took note of Ruby and Ryden returning with Maya, not bothering to address the question of his guns and instead saying, "these fuckers seem a sight smarter'n the monsters Essie and me faced off in them other pocket worlds. Seems to me it might be best for us to split and stopper up wherever they might be streamin' in here from, unless we wanna end up as the cheese in the worst fuckin' game of Farmer in the Dell ever."

"True," Ruby said to Ryden. "And I'll tell ya later," she said of the sword. She managed a tiny smirk - which was more a grimace - towards Maya, but the crowd of creatures in the hallway was growing, and while Ephram and Ciara were making a dent, it was refilling over and over. One made it past, screeching and lurching towards them. Ruby took it's head off with her sword. Another broke through, fell in the water, and she crushed it's skull beneath her boot. "We're runnin' out of opttions," she said to everyone else. "Is there a way outta here?"

"How 'bout I stay back here and out of ya'lls way and fight o'er YER kills t'pass time cause it looks to me like yer all handlin' it well." Ryden said, as the advancing mob of zombies wobbled their way at them. He leaned against a glass wall, right over one of the cracks spreading like spiderweb over them. He was tired and he had somewhat figured out how this pocket world travel works here. Which means that they might get spit out somewhere else anytime now. If they didn't, he was ready, tired from his own previous quest as he was.

"I hope you mean the kind of cookie I think you mean," Maya shot back at Ryden with a shit eating grin. She turned though to look at all the new arrivals. There were too many. The water around their feet was already red with blood. She dropped the rifle in her hands. A second later, it landed with a dull splash. "Fuck," she muttered. She shook her head. "I'm out guys. I can make sure you all get out, but I'm fucking done," she confessed. It was like a switch turning off, something she couldn't explain.

Essie stared at them incredulously. "You're just done? Shit is trying to fucking eat us." she couldn't believe it. Throwing another handful of dust, this time onto an oncoming figure to then burst into flame.

Ruby glanced at Maya as she dropped the rifle. She didn't know if one could actually die in these places, but Ruby wasn't about to take that chance. "Get her," Ruby said to Ryden before turning back to the oncoming hoarde. "Split up where?" she asked Ephram. "If I shift, I might be able to lure most of them down another way...."

Ephram was embroiled in shooting at creatures who were crawling and scrabbling and leaping towards them, but Essie's comment made him guffaw out loud anyhow.

Ephram said to Ruby's idea, "Take Ryden with you. I dunno how much help Maya's gonna be, maybe leave her here for Essie to sort out." He wasn't sure what was up with Maya once she dropped the gun and started talking about making sure they'd all get out, but it didn't sound like she was coping well, whatever it was.

Not batting an eyelash when Ruby pointed out Maya's distress, he grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back. "Stay behind me, cupcake, and hold that cookie I promised." There was no way Ryden would willingly move himself up front where he'd be most effective for anyone, because he'd easily be in line of Ephram and Ciara's fire and the wicked fairy dust fireballs Esse was throwing. But for Maya and her safety, he was willing to risk friendly fire. "Fuck that, we ain't splittin' up. You even watch horror?" With sickening crack of bones and muscle, Ryden was doing that neat little werewolf party trick unique to him - muscles in his arms bulged and sharp claws sprouted out of his fingertips. He now had a jaw full of too many teeth for a human. He stepped out of the front line of shooters with a leap, claws aiming and shredding at random but efficiently.

“If it comes down to it, I won’t ask,” Ciara replied quietly. If it came to it, it would just be like the first time they had met. She’d sacrifice him at her altar with only barely a second thought. “Stopper them, then drown them. Some of the doors hermetically seal. Like a sub.” Her gaze flicked to Maya, and saw the deadness Ciara felt already.

Ephram lifted his guns as Ryden leapt in front of them, growling in aggravation, "I'm watchin' a fuckin' horror right now! Get the fuck out my way, Bolt!" But it was pretty damn obvious that wasn't going to happen, so Ephram swore a blue streak and told Ciara, "Fine, but watch my back and make sure these un's don't git shredded." The way that Ryden was dealing with the creeping pale people ahead of them. So Ephram used it to his advantage: with Ryden flinging ribbons of meat and blood, Ephram dodged and darted behind him as if the wolf was an ambulance, the two of them steadily making their way to one of the door seams where -- hopefully -- there'd be some sort of mechanism to seal the place.

Maya stumbled as Ryden pulled her backwards. "No" she started to argue. It didn't matter. Didn't they all understand it didn't matter? She swallowed a shout as Ryden jumped in front of everyone. Her heart thudded in her chest. There was a moment as she looked around at everyone else where something like life flickered in her eyes. It was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. They were still fighting. They were going to get hurt and all for nothing. With dead eyes, Maya picked up the rifle again. It was almost robotic the way she fired. Each shot hit with almost perfect precision as Ryden and Ephram advanced. But it wasn't Maya anymore, not really. It was a version of her that knew only how to survive. The moment the threat was no longer imminent, it would crumble like dust.

Essie had stopper and drown repeating in her head. She could potentially blow a bigger hole than a bullet hole with her dust she'd just need to be at the front when they found doors that could close. Not that the idea enticed her any. But she voiced this to anyone who could hear her as she followed down the tube, walking backwards to keep an eye behind them. "I can firecracker my dust, blow a hole when you get the doors closing."

Ryden was practically tossing the creatures out of the way, his breaking through forceful, messy and stomach-churning, elbows-deep into dead bodies and their insides, ripping limbs, organs and skin with bare, clawed hands. What he missed, others would easily take down as they drew closer to what might be their salvation.

Ruby wasn't keen on leaving Maya behind for her to 'maybe' be sorted out. So when Ryden pulled their shell shocked friend behind him, Ruby let out a breath. She knew Ryden would keep Maya safe above everything else. But that meant she couldn't be a decoy. So as Ryden did his shifting trick, Ruby heard Ciara over the din. "How do we get the doors to work?" Ruby asked. "If we kill enough of them, they'll block themselves in. At least for a bit."

But then Ephram was already moving in behind Ryden, headed that way. That left Ruby and Ciara and Essie. Ruby's shoulder was starting to ache fiercely, her swings growing weaker. She needed to shift so she could heal, if nothing else. Or she was a liability. Trusting that she would retain enough of her human mind with a voluntary shift, Ruby shoved her sword into the duffel bag that lay nearby, striipping her boots and clothes in quick succession before she let the wolf have her. Bones cracked and limbs lengthened, dark hair turned white and blue eyes bled crimson until a huge white wolf had taken her place. It shook itself, still covered in the same blood as Ruby, and lifted it's nose into the air. She could smell The Other ahead of her, and more that were familiar. It didn't take long for her jaws to find flesh. One great shake and a spine snapped before being tossed aside.

Ephram heard the familiar flap of fairy wings behind him and Ryden, and when Essie voiced her plan he was intensely glad that she /had/ followed them. "Git ready, then," he barked back at her, to be heard through the schripping of Ryden's claws and the screams of the creatures. "Build up enough dust so's you can blow a hole big enough for a goddamn hearse to drive through, and I'll take care of findin' the sealing mechanism." Because she was right; his bullets were good against the creatures, but the kind of hole they'd need to blow required dust and plenty of it.

Maya twisted as something caught her shoulder. She didn't go down though. Instead, she used its own momentum against it. In complete survival mode, she found its head and yanked. A sickening snap echoed in her ears. She scrambled again to her feet, blood dripping from her shoulder. She glanced up at Essie and nodded. Whatever the fairy needed her to do to help, she was ready.

Essie spares a hand, reaching out and touching Mayas shoulder with just a hint of healing, she couldn't spare much but a little was worth something at least. But she lets her wings lift her up off the ground, concentrating on generating a mass of dust rather than focusing on not tripping over the carnage on the ground. She might not be taking anything dangerous out while they moved, but she was trying her best to provide as much use as she could.

They were reaching the door that was Ryden’s goal. Kind of like one of those round, hermetically sealed submarine passages. Ryden had tossed one of the zombified creatures right at it, where it was full-body slammed and had its spine broken. Ryden reached those doors right after it but there would be no good in breaking the hatch, which he could definitely do - they needed it closed after. "Little help 'ere??" He asked, speech impaired by the Cheshire grin of sharp teeth and protruding canines.

The wolf-Ruby pushed forwards when needed, pulling back when necessary only to surge towards the monsters again when there was an opening. The corridor was quicklly filling up, and anything not dead from Ryden's hands or otherwise, she crushed it's skull with her teeth, making sure it didnt' move again. Her muzzle and chest and legs were stained red with gore, but Ruby kept going with the others. Biting and crushing and smashing her way through.

A fighter, a healer, a maker, a leader, and... Wasn’t Ruby human?? Not anymore, it seemed, but it would still work, an idea in Ciara’s mind. They needed the door closed. They needed to reach the door. The floor was slick and slippy and covered in corpses - each time they killed they made their own progression harder. They were under the sea. Sea with currents and waves and movement, and blood had that all too. She had the consent of two. That would have to do.

In six people at once, the back of their wrists split open, spilling blood into midair that flowed into Ciara’s hands like a current, flowing and twisting and pumping, a six fold circulatory system. Magic like this had a cost, and they would just have to find out what that was. Once they’d survived. The blood curled into crystals And then into one. Ciara twisted the threads of ley magic into a whole new shape, instinct and confidence pouring into one, something new and something old, and something that would have to do. Ciara carved it and sculpted it like wood on her bench, like clay, like ice, and found a word that suited. She dropped the crystal to the ground, and spoke.

“Clot.”

All that bloody water surged around her, up, up, up, like a wave, and left those that she wanted untouched - the blood she had taken from them made each immune to her spell. The water pulsed and pumped, and picked up each body in turn, splicer and dead alike. Except it wasn’t picking them up - they were becoming part of the wave, like blood pouring out of a split artery and picking part of the pulsing, pumping mass. It was imperfect - all new spells were - too many had been left unscathed as well, confused if not for long. But others were gluing up behind the door, struggling. They were platelets to a wound, and now they were sealing, like a scab. The ley was quickly draining, and so was her connection to it. This would not last.

Maya stood for half a second in awe. The thought of pain in her wrist didn't occur to her. But she knew magic. It shook her out of awe quickly. "The door!" she shouted, "Someone hit the door." But she was holding a gun. Even as she said it, Maya raised the rifle and aimed. She fired into the door's control panel in a very Han Solo move. It crackled and fizzled before sliding closed. Maya dropped the rifle again, breathing heavily.

Ciara didn’t see the door close. One dozen, two dozen of them left, at least one was making its way over to her. Ciara raised a hand to do something, and instead... dropped to the floor, as two gitturns squeaked.

Ephram had been half-expecting Ciara to dip into her blood magic, but he hadn't for a moment thought it would look like this. Bodies and not-quite-corpses being picked up and dancing like puppets in a pusing wave to clot and seal up the entranceway that he, Ryden, and Essie had been making their ways towards, and Ruby too, from the sound of it. But before they could reach and put their plan into action, there was a rifle shot from behind them. The panel exploded and the door shut, and that was that. Problem solved.

Ciara, though, collapsed into the bleeding water below her feet, so Ephram turned his attention from where it was no longer required and ran back to the witch, dropping down to pull her from the filthy puddle. The gitterns chittered, angry or scared or both.

"C'mon, git the gross blood lady up and git in. Go go go GO!" Ryden hurried them along, having pulled the door open after Maya shot at the panel.

Essie yelped in pain at the cut on the back of her wrist forming, tears in her eyes involuntarily at the pain. Maya raised her gun to shoot and Essie -who'd almost dropped her growing ball of dust- lurched forward in a moment of panic but the door was closed too quickly. So much for drowning them. She turns her attention to something else she could potentially do with it. "A healing touch?" she offers unsure whether it would do any good running to the unknown womans side.

Maya nodded towards Ryden. They should get out of here while they still could. She half turned to Essie at her offer, "Ciara." She nodded towards Ciara for Essie's benefit before she looked for Ruby. She needed to make sure that the wolf got out with them safely. She wiped her face, finding it wet with saltwater.

Ruby barely felt the slice in her own leg/wrist as Ciara worked her spell. All she knew was that the air hummed with blood and magic and gore. The wolf knew what magic felt like, when it was dangerous and malintended, but other than that, she knew only that whatever the blood witch had done, it seemed to have worked. The other were further up the tunnel than her, so Ruby turned back when the door shut under the rifle blast. She saw the witch collapse, saw Ephram run over, and saw the lurch of another creature nearby by.

Growling and snapping, Ruby leapt at the creature, who screamed and railed at her, clawing and biting before Ruby could close her jaws around its slick flesh. There was a sickening crunch, and the creature went limp. Ruby shook her head, tearing thecreatures throat out for good measure. She turned to the others as Ryden called out, lingering in the back but following close as the others moved ahead. She didn't want to be left behind.

Ruby wuffled at the nearly unconscious witch as Ephram dragged her up, giving the chattering furries a passive glance but not caring enough about them to linger. ~GO.~ she thought to the others. ~GO NOW. They are coming.~

Ephram made sure to scoop the little gitturns up, not at the moment caring if they bit him or whatever; into his rescued golf bag they went, as he toted it and Ciara down the passageway. "If this is anythang like them other fucked-up mold places," he huffed as they hustled, "now that we squashed a bunch of them monsters it's like that we's gonna--" And that was as far as he got, this time. Suddenly, Ephram ran himself, Ciara, the gitturns, and his golf bag full of weapons into a stacked display of yum-yum pickles, knocking everything over in a resounding and vinegary crash over the floor of the regular world version of the supermarket.

Essie watched the sheriff vanish as he had done before and gave a firm nod. She'd seen this before. "Some of us are gonna vanish outta nowhe-" and there she went. That tugging in her gut and she overbalanced and landed on her ass in a pile of pickles. Blinking in the new electronic lighting of the market she looks shakes her head, getting up quick. She needed to get home ...covered head to tow in guts /again/.

#plot:the blight #violence cw #blood cw #alessafalling #mayaparker #rydenbolt #scarlettxruby #thatwhichbindsus

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sourdoughsoul · 2 years ago

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Still mad at the couple who bought up this small piece of forest at the end of the neighborhood, tore everything down to make another ugly modern home and don’t even live in it because it’s a fucking airbnb. This week a large group (like 20+) people have been staying there being loud af through the night and speeding down the road in this stupid golf cart as if children and deer don’t cross and play in the streets. I hate you airbnb, I hate you shitty tourists, I hate you rich people making this area unaffordable 💔

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moongirl332 · 6 years ago

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VOLTRON SEASON 7

SPOILERS

heres my crazy ramblings while watching this season

EPISODE ONE- James sounds EXACTLY like lance

Soft mom looks at keef

Same romelle

Coran yet again being the vodka uncle

ALFOR AND CORAN WRANGLED YELMORS???? TOGETHER????

“Are all ancient alteans like this?’ “We only know two”

HOney I shRuNk TeAm VoLtRoN

“Quiznacker”

BBY HUNK

BBY LANCE!!!

Everyone being mad at keef

YEESSSS LANCE MY BOI SAVED EVERYONE

WHERE. IS. HIS. SWORD.

OOf dArEdEvIL sHiRo in thoosseee glasseesss

“ Me and my POP” POP????? POP????

Aww his dad was a firefighter

Noooo shiros deasise nooo

AWWW HUNK AND ROMELLE

“Hunks our only hope” yayaaaaayyy

NO SHIRO PLEASE

Also Mr. Holt? With that guy hair??

aDaM

ADAM

A D A M

DONT DO MY HUNK LIKE THAT HOW DARE

This episode is just like “I wonder if hunk and lance are having as good a time as us” “*SCREAMING*”

Coran just straight up snowboarding down the yelmors back

“Oh quiznack” “my back”

Keith and shiro just DONE with the rest of the team like hunny you just put your soul into your clones body

EPISODE TWO- SAD PIDGE NO

Hunk trying to impress romelle <3 <3 <3

Also why does shirts metal half arm look HUGE??

EVERYONE MISSES THEIR FAMIILLLYY

“Finger counting, its more of an art than a science really.”

“But im terrible at drawing” lol aww allura

AWW LANCE DECIDING THESE THING LOOOLL

I LOVE coran

Aww romelle

“Their my selfies”

“Because he’s lonely”

Pidge not caring and just playing video games

“Oh yeah he’s us super drolly.”

PIDGE

OOF STRONK ALLURA

THE WOLF TOOK CORAN?? AHAAHHA

WHAT IS THE WOLF DOING??

NOO LOTOR YOU JERK

“WERE GETTING OUR QUIZNACKS HANDED TO US”

Wait they can’t form Voltron no

“They’re corralling us like space cattle!”

AWW KEITH AND LANCE WORKING TOGETHER

“Rodger that team leader”

K L A N C E

Keith and his knife mommy

YES HUNKS BLASTER

My gfs yeeess

NO THE WOLF

OOF LOTORS GENERALS MY BABES

EPISODE THREE-WAIT THEY GOT THE LIONS

Her eye??

Same lance stop embarrassing yourself in front of your bfs mom

No coran can do it I believe in him!!!!!

CORAN NARRATING HIS ADVENTURES SSSAMMEEE

THE MICE

THE WOLF NO

Go CORAN!!

Oof that guard tho

CORAN LOOKING HOT

MY BABES THEIR OUTFITS AWWW

AWWW EZOR AND HER GF ZETHRID

OMG AXCA WHAT

“Because the power of teamwork?”

Lol axca and coran

NO NOT PIDGE

YEES PROTECT PIDGE

Oof axca

WAIT coran CAN change his shape and size????

GO MICE GO MICE GO MICE

PROTECT PIDGE O R E L S E

MICE!!!

Keith and lance carrying coran the way they carried shiro <3 <3 <3

“She’s always been sweet on that one with the flippity hair” KEITH???

KEITH TRASPORTED HIS BAYYARD??? WHAT

“Lance lead the way” KLANCE IS CANNON KING

Lance is so worried ab his bf but he’s such a good leader awww

WHERE. IS. HIS. SWORD.

“Guess it is true love” what is their relationship???

“Cant we just fight” keef lol he’s so gay and angry

Black saving keef

THREE YEARS????????

KEITH AND AXCA???? What are they???

EPISODE FOUR- YEEESSS GARFUL WARUL SNICK

OOF LANCE SO HOT

OMG KEEF LOL

Uh oh this is bad

Why does it keep glitching?

MY PINEAPPLE BOI

Allura raising her hand

Go hunk!

KEITH IS TRYING SO HARD

Lance please. No. stop.

“Hello bob” “this is my lovely wife haggar”

Lol this fake zarkon is meee lol

“Id rather stay their lions than their points”

“She does look like that drawing”

Their poses lol

“Windy cave?’

OMG I LOVE FAKE GALRA

LANCE IS NOT DUMB FIGHT ME

NO HUNNY YOYR NOT THE DUB ONE

Lol that earth shop alien dude

YOU A R E N O T T H E D U M B O N E L A N C E

“Do we believe this beautiful dum dum?’ He is beautiful but he’s NOT DUMB

OML lance please you’re trying your best!!!

“Go galra Go galra Go galra” ahaha

“You know Im the dumb one” NO YOURE NOT

Ahaha zarkons team

GO LANCE!!!!!!!!!

NOO LANCE

Go PIDGE!!!

Its just mINI GOLF

Oof good try pidge

Aww hunk and allura

LANCE VOTED FOR KEITH AND KEITH VOTED FOR LANCE AAAAHHHH KLANCE IS CANNON KING

“Aw thanks man” AWWWWW

AWW PIDGE AND HUNK

AWWWWWWWWW

YAY THEY WON!!!!!!!!

KEEF SOFT SMILES AAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWW

CORAN HAS HEARD BOB

Aww bob

EPISODE FIVE-PIDGES NIGHTMARE LOL

Omg they all sleep so weird lol

“I guess that does make you an expert on killing time” LOL SHIRROOO

“Like mother like son”

SAME HUNK LOL

GO LANCE

Hunk making everyone burritos same

YEES NAME HIM KOSMO

Aww lances meemaw

“These big bohs get comedy”

Who is the hooded man(or woman idk)

Good dog

“Disgusting is altean for lovely. You don’t speak altean do you?’

haggar is dead???

NO NOT THE BLADES

The druids can fight me I swear

Aw krolia no

Wait kolivans alive!!!!

OH MY GOD WHAT

WAIT WHAT

THE DUDE WAS THE DRUIS THAT FOUGHT KEITH

WHERE.IS. LANCES. SWORD.

KEEFS WOLF

Wait are they stuck?? What???

FIGHT HIM KEEF

GO ALLURA YEESSS

KOLIVAN NO

yes allura get it

DONT HURT HER NO

Get him Keith

YEESS DESTROYED

“Good job Keith” KLANCE IS CANNON KING

Nooooo all the alteans are all gone

Awww krolia and kolivan

Awww KEITH AND HIS MOOOMM

HUGS

I LOVE YOU TOO KROLIA

EPISODE SIX-lol pidge “ITS ONE AND A HALF EARTH YEARS”

Lance is ready to die lol

YES HUNK YOUR PUNS YES

OML SHIRO STOPP lol

Awww Keith was excited ab his flight formation exercises

Angry wolf boi

KLANCE IS CA N N O N K I N G

Lance is READY to die lol

“Told you lance would go crazy first”

NOO MY BBYS ARE TIRED AND SAD NOO

No hunk please no

“No I think time is different for me. Like im on dog years or something”

Woah Keith chill

Uh oh, is Keith going crazy???

Go lance, be a leader

SHUT UP KEITH WHY ARE YOU BEING SO EMO???

Uh oh THEYRE FIGHTING

GO HUNK

NO KEITH STOP EARTH??? E A R T H ? ? ?

No wait, what if its a mirage

IT IS A MIRAGE

GO HUNK

LISTEN TO HUNK

GO HUNK

Omg what is that

HUNKKK I LOVE YOU YOURE SO IMPORTANT HHHUUUUNNNKKK

Aww Keith

Wow its a good thing these spacesuits have jetpacks and literally unlimited power

YAY RED THE LIONS!!!

V O T R O N ! ! !

KEITH AND LANCE PUT THEIR BAYARDS IN AT THE SAME TIME KLANCE IS CANNON KING

Look at DEM WINGS

EARTH??? REAL EARTH?? THE Milky Way????? YEEEEESSSSSSSS

EPISODE 7 + 8 - EARTH YAY

OH NO

Earth is under attack

NOO

Flashback?

SSSAAAMMMSSSS WIIIFFFEE!!! AWWWWW

AWW

OOF GO COLLEEN YEESS

AWW KAITE Voltron Voltron Voltron

EEEWWW ITS JAMES

Ohh cool ships

GROSS JAMES MATT!!!!!!!!

This garrison girl is a jerk ugh

YEEESS COLLEN TELL THE WORLD GO GIRL

OK I DONT LIKE HIM BUT TBH JAMES IS HOOOTT

AWWWW THE FAMILY VIDEOS

CRYING

UGLY SOBBING

DONT LOCK MY HOLTS UP NO

NOO THE GALRA ARE HERE

Ok its fine they have a particle barrier its gonna be fine right?hahah? Fine? Hahah?

Ugh stuPID SENDAK

NOOOO

I HATE THIS GARRISON LADY UGH

A D A M

ADAM

A D A M

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDAM

OMG IT WAS ADAM

A D A M

PLEASE DONT LET ADAM DIE

A D A M

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ADAM

DONT BE DEAD

ADAM

UGH JAMES

SENDAK NO YOU JERK

NO EVERYONES DYING

YEEEESS SAM HOLT

HE SAID QUIZNAK OML

WORLD WAR 3 WHAT?

OK VERONICA WHAT A BADA**

SAME I LOVE VERONICA

JAMES SUCKS

WHY IS JAMES ALSO AN EMO LOL

YEEES VERONIA GOOOO

NOOO VERONCA NOOOOO

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

V E R O N I C A

WAIT

WASNT VERONICA LANCES SISTERS NAME???? WAS THAT HER? IS SHE DEAD? PLEASE NO?NOOOOOOOO

VERONICAS ALIVE THANK GOD

OMG I LOVE HER AGH SHE IS LANCES SISTER

AAAAGGGGGHHHHH I LOVE HER

Her jacket looks like lances lol

ugh sedak u gross

YEEESSS AAAAGGGHHH VOLTRON WILL SAVE THEM

“Well what are we waiting for” you’ve Sid that three times Keith lol

EPISODE NINE-

GO VOLTRON SAVE UUUUUSSSSS AAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLL

What are those space Frisbees they’re using lol

Aww kaltenecker and the mice

NO DONT CRASH

AAAAGGGGHHHH

Nooo earth is destroyed

WHERE.IS.LANCES.SWORD.

KEITH AND LANCE AAWWWW

KLANCE IS CANNON KING

OOOOOOOFFFFFFF ITTTTTSSS JAAAAAAAMMMMMMEEEEEEESSSSSS

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

JAMES NOOOO AGGGHHH

WHERE IS ADAM BTW

AWWW THEIR FAMILYS AAWWW

UGLY SOBBING AGAIN

UNCLE LANCE?? AWWW

CRYING SO MUCH RN

AWWW HUNKS FAMILY AWW WHERE ARE THEY NOOOO???

NOT HUNKS FAMILY WHHY??

OMG CORAN STOP

KEITH AAAAWWWW

AWW KOSMO

UGH JAMES

ADAM

A D A M

SOBBING

ADAM

DONT BE DEAD

A D A M

SHUT THE FU*K UP JAMES

ITS HUNKS FAMILY SO SHUT YOUR STUPID FACE UGH

OMG coran and allure in the galaxy garrisons outfits lol

Ugh I hate this garrison girl what a jerk

GO PIDGE AND AULLRA YAY

OMG CORAN U LOVE YOU

Ooh arms?? For shiro???

AWWW KEITH AND HUNK

KEITH IS TRYING HIS BEST

AWWWW HHUUNNKKK I LOVE HIM

PROTECT HUNK 2K18

KEITH IS MOST IMPRESSED BY HUNK AWWWW

HUNK HUGGED KEITH

YEEESS HUNK GO GET YO FAMILY

UGH JAMES I HATE YOU

HHHMMMM QUESTIONABLE JAMES BUT OK

EW GROSS SENDAK HOLOGRAM

NOO ALLURA R U OK??

OOF VERONIC AND JAMES AND KEITH ANS HUNK AND AND AND

WHY DOES ALL OF HUNKS FAMILY HAVE HEADBANDS???

AWWW HUNK

SHIROS ARM!!!!!!

NOOO HUNK DONT CRY PLEASE

EPISODE TEN-SHIRO

oof the paladins in those garrison outfits tho

SHIROS ARRRMMM

Eew gross his arm is like sendaks

Wait what why noooooO!!!!!!!!!!

Allura? YOUR CROWN???

OOOOHHHHH INTERESTING

Yeess go my gurls

Oohhh shiro lookin hot

YYEEEEEESSSSSS MY SNIPER BOI LAAANNNCCCEEE hmm lance what?

Awww lance loves his sister and I love lance(and Veronica but like)

Same hunk

SnIpEr BoI

ok Keith

GO SNIPER BOI

Shut up James

YEESS LANCE COVER UR BF YEEESSS KOSMO

YES LANCE GO PROTECT UR BF YEESS KLANCE IS CANNON KING

Omg I love kosmo

Oohhh sniper bois i see

OOHHH GO SNIPER BOIS

Aww Veronica if only you knew

Pidge what

Ok Keith whatever

Oof get wrecked by my cosmic boi

“The pigeon is in”

A cannon???

Go hunk!!

YEESSS GO TEAM

These cannons are not good oh no

Shut up you garrison girl

THE LIONS WILL COME TO YYYYOOOOUUUUUU AAAAAHHHHHHH

YEEESSS GO SHIRO YES omg yay Veronica and lance

OOOHHH LANCE A ALLURA I SEE THIS OK OK OK AWWWWWWW THEYRE BLUSHINNNGGGGG

Same Veronica lol

Yeeeess go team

Go Keith!

YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

Kaltenecker same

Uh oh lance

No lance uh oh

AWWW THE LIONSS AAWWWW NOOOOO LANCE PLEASE LANCE

NOT VERONICA AND LANCE NO

Lance oh no

NOT VERONICA NO

Ok she’s fine its fine

GO MY SHARPSHOOTER BOOOOOOIIIIIII

YEEEESSSS REEEEEDDDD

OH NO THIS IS BAD NOT THE CANNONS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

NO THAT GARRISON CHICK I KNEW IT I HATED HER NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

F O R M V O L T R O N ! ! !

NO THEY HIT VOLTRON NO AAAAAAAHHHHHHH EPISODE ELEVEN-VOLTRON NO

THEY SHOWED KEITH AND LANCE TOGETHER IM DEAD

ADMIRAL SANDA IS A B*TCH

Ok shiro I see you

I hate admiral sanda ugh

And Sendak uuuggghhh

NUNVILLE WILL SAVE THE DAY AGAIN!!!

Jk jk jk lol

Ok but tbh I want a side series on James team like idk I just do

oh no, why aren’t their bayards working???

YEAH YOU SUCK ADMIRAL SANDA

Ok James I see you you hottie

GO ALTAS

No PLEAASE fly atlas FLY

No sam youre not USLESS

GO CORAN YES aww the castle crystal will power the ship awwww its the new castle of lions

YES CAPTAIN SHIRO YES ugh James is so hot oml

NO SENDAK NO

Ugh James so hot

Oof get wrecked

OOF GET WRECKED AAAGGHHH

Yes hunk we have to try

GO TEAM LEADER I LUV U KEITH

LANCE IS SITTING CRISCROSS APPLESAUCE I REPEAT LANCE IS SITTING CRISCROSS APPLESAUCE

ALSO go lions or whatever but LANCE

YAY HUNK YAY EVERONE!!!

Ooh this is cool they can pilot their lions without being in them interesting

Ok I see you admiral sanda

GO LIONS YEEESS

AAAAHHHH YEEESSS oof I still don’t like admiral sanda but whatever

Oh she dead aint she

OH JK I SEE YOU BLACK LION

Hunk your so extra lol’

Ok she is dead whatever

YEEESS MY BABES GO SAVE EARTH

EPISODE TWELVE-

Immediately forms voltron ok I see you

OH A PART ONE AND TWO???

OOHH JAMES IS SOOOO HAAAAAWWWWTTT UGH

Alright voltron lets go

Noice use the Sword

Oh my sam what the cannons do what

WHAT WHAT JUST HIT THEM NO

OH NO THIS IS BAD

GO LANCE BE. LEADER fine let him destroy his own ships, do the work for you

Oohhh dimes what a hottie

“Oh I thought you might have some mathematically advanced insight or something” lol same James

KEITH AND LANCE TAKE THE FURTHEST PLATES KLANCE KLANCE KLANCE

Get wrecked galra base oof

AAAGGGGHHH GO LIONS GO AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAHHHH YAY THINK IT WORKED?? MAYBE?

Yeah get Sendak. He’s a jerk

AAAGGHHH GO CAPTAIN SHIRO GO

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

GO SHIRO GOOOO

OH NO NO NO OH WAIT ITS THE ALTAS OK ITS OK FOR NOW oohhh James

G O S H I R O omg shiro is done lol

DONT HURT MY SHIRO NO YEEESSS GO SAM SHIRO BETTER BE OK AFTER THIS I SWEAR

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOIO

Yeah die sedan ugh

LANCE YES GO LANCE

GO LANCE YES

Ok allura eyes

Ok yay they can do it please!!!!!!

YYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS THEY DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NO SHIRO

Shiro. Hunny. You need a helmet to breath in space ya idiot.

NO SHIRO AND SENDAK ARE AB TO FIGHT AGAIN AAGGHHH NO GO SHIRO GO GO SHIRO GO

SHIRO YOU CANT DIE again

SHIRO PLEASE BE ALIVE

SENDAK NO DONT DO IT YEEESSS THE BLACK LION YESS GO KEITH YEEESSS

Aww lance and allura

WAIT WHAT WAS THAT NO

EPISODE THIRTEEN -

Oh noooooo what is that??

ANOTHER ROBEAST??? SHIRO IS SAFE THANK GOODNESS

THIS IS BAD THO

Lance has Keith covered ok

YES KEITH YES TEAM LEADER YEAH CORAN wha shiro I swear

FORM VOLTRON

YES VOLTRON YES oof his stick is no good

DUAL SWORDS???? YEEEEESSSS

OH NO IT BROKE THE SHEILD NO

Oohhhh jaaammmeeessss so hot

YES GO PIDGE

OH NO THE ALTAS ITS LIKE THE CREATURES FROM THE RIFT KINDA?? OR THE SHIP WHEN HAGGAR TOOK THEIR QUINTESSENCE??? HUNKS FAMILY AGH

NO THE ATLAS NO VOLTRON IT STABBED VOLTRON

NO VOLTRON THE ATLAS NO AGH SHIRO WHAT YOU WHAT

SHIRO WHAT DID YOU SEE

OK YES THIS IS GOOD

ITS LIKE VOLTRON BUT ITS THE ATLAS OMG WHAT

ITS GOT THICK LEGGIES LOL

OMG ITS HUGE WHAT

GET IT ALTAS GO

OH NO IT GOT BIGGER WHAT

GO LANCE GO

KEITH AND LACE YES KLANCE IS CANNON KING AAAGGGHH

OOF GET WERCKED YEEESSS

ITS GONNA EXPLODE NOOOOOO

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

AGH NO WHAT

DONT DIE NO

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

HUNKS FAMILY NO

NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

SHIRO NO THEY BETTER NOT OF DIED

ADAM

A D A M

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

MATT!!!!!!!

BUT NOOOOOOOOOOO

ALL THE ALIENS YAY BUT WHERE ARE THE PALIDANS

OK HUNKS OK YAY

SHAY!!!!!!!!!!!AWWWWWWWWW

PIDGE!

LANCE!

ALLURA!

KEITH!

EVERONES OK EVERYONE HAS A FAMILY ALL IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD OML WHAT

AXCA???

WHATS UP WITH THE CREATURE?

THE POWER SOURCE IS AN ALTEAN?????????

UUUUMMMMMMMM

Ok thats all!

Basically this is just incoherent screaming but whatever

What I got from this season was

A good season I really liked it

lots of team bonding and I think quite a lot of character development but thats just me idk really know all that much idk

LOTS of ship moments, a lot of klance (my personal fav lance is cannon king) but also some allurance too

New character and stories, love Veronica and James’s team is cool but idk ab James. (He is hot tho)

They could definitely make some spinoffs with the new characters

I though the end was good im really happy all the aliens are coming to earth

LOVE LOVE LOVED lance and hunks family for sure, kinda sad we never saw hunks family actually interact in present time but whatever

Also a little mad that the killed Adam bc I really wanted to see that play out and see a reunion but whatever

Wish they had addressed both Adam and James a little more there wasn’t a whole lot on that whole stuff

I loved lance in this season he’s got his family he’s becoming a leader and I loved him

Quite a few coran scenes but still not to much development

Sam holt was vv important

WHERE.WAS.LANCES.SWORD.I.SWEAR.

LOVED HAVING 13 EPISODES YES

Any who thats really it idk this is insane but here you go

#voltron #VLD #voltron season seven #voltron season 7 spoilers #voltron legendary defender #keith #Lance #klance #hunk #pidge gunderson #allura #coran #allurance #idk #random #voltron thoughts

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