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#also how come jimmy used THIS picture of kyle

babygorewhore · 10 months

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The Type of text messages The Evan’s would send you. Flirting edition.

Okay last fic of the day lol. Anyway this is a fun little concept I came up with and lemme know what more text messages you want in this series!!! WARNINGS! Kai being sexual and some flirting. But mostly fluff!

Evan Peters.

- “Hi baby. You look so sexy. Can wait to kiss you…maybe more 😏”

- Also send you little paragraphs about how much he loves you.

Kit Walker.

- “Wow, Mrs. Walka. Are you free tonight? Can I take you out for some midnight dancing?”

- Includes a lot of dick jokes.

Kyle Spencer.

- “You’re so pretty. Come kiss me, Angel.”

- If he’s undead. I feel like Kyle would use a lot of emojis. Like ❤️😍😛

Tate Langdon.

- “Holy shit, you’re so gorgeous. Hey mamas.”

- “Thank you, baby.”

- “Can you send me another picture, mommy? 🥺”

Jimmy darling.

- Honestly he’s a little bit of a fuck boy lol

- “Aw, sugar. Only one picture? Come on…lemme see those pretty legs of yours. I imagine them wrapped around me.”

Kai Anderson.

- Hella sexual. Very inappropriate.

- “Open your mouth, spit a little and send me a video of you sucking your thumb.”

- “Kai, it’s just a picture of my new haircut.”

- “Did I stutter, princess?”

James Patrick March.

- Let’s imagine he’s figured out how to text.

- “My little bird, you look absolutely as beautiful as the midnight sky my pet. You must meet me in my quarters at once. Allow me to kiss you until we cannot breathe, yes? JPM.”

- “James. I know it’s you. You don’t have to sign your name.”

- “But what if someone were to impersonate me?”

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gelu-the-babosa-multiversal · 2 years

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Important characters! For my future TFRB fics

Gonna do some more canon for my AU's, so I will give some info for the important character that will appear more often. So please, enjoy my made-up canon! No one will prove me wrong. I will not accepted it!

George (Gyeong-ja) Tracker

I talked a bit more about his backstory and family in this post. Son of Jang-mi the councilwoman of Griffin Rock and Jack Tracker a deceased policeman. And has a little brother named Jimmy (Jin-gyu). Gyeong-ja is a child who enjoys taking pictures and doing sports. He is entertaining and calm, but can also be very sneaky and a bit reserved with others (more with does he is starting to know).

He has a bit of a habit to participate in violent things on his mother's back like strength competitions, but he is aware of the consequences this could bring if his mom discovers him, so he tends to do a lot of things alone so as not activate his mother suspects.

Nancy Morrison

Niece and the helping hand of Captain Arthur Shaw, a man in charge of the Griffin Rock ferry. After a really bad divorce, Arthur accepted to take care of Nancy after her mother and father went on a "lifetime" travel. He does not mind though, he really likes his niece as a considerate and sweet kid she is, but that can also be very angry and a bit bossy.

Nancy likes her uncle too, but she doesn't like to be in the Ferrari all day, as she has a very weak stomach for long rides. So she prefers to stay on earth most of the time playing with other kids and taking care of plants. And for that, Arthur lets her take care of his garden at times and transforming into her favorite hobbit.

She wonders if her parents would come back any time soon...

Timmy Smith

The only child of Jerry Smith, the only commercial driver in Griffin Rock... Just like his father; whether he sees a vehicle or anything that has wheels, he'll drive it. Because of his dad's hapless nature, he has learned how to repair cars (mostly the basics). At times, his aunt Carin Smith comes to visit the island, until she finally decided to stay as a permanent resident.

But despite his strong and playful nature, since his mother left for some unknown reason, he became a bit selfish and greedy to those who aren't his friends or family.

Corey Perkins

He lives with his father Mr. Perkins, a farmer famous for growing the sweetest corn on the island. Corey is a hard-working kid that would help his father on the farm recollecting the corn and cleaning the barns. He also uses those moments to show up to some girls (in his father's words he is a cowboy with the ladies)

But he can also be very boring at times when he talks about his interests (like completing a Rubix cube in a time record). Because his father never speaks (his mute due to an accident in his throat) Corey tends to talk to the animals in the barn sometimes.

Kyle Frazier

A child who enjoys traveling and in secret child coloring books. He is giving and gentle with his friends (Timmy and Corey), but can also be very cowardly.

A complete opposite to his father Axel Frazier, an old deceased pilot who was always ready to spring into action, and his mother Virginia a zookeeper at Griffin Rock Zoo. But if he is good at something is taking care of others like with his little brother Billy.

Rosita Neederlander

The name was suggested by @bluekat12345 Granddaughter of the well-known Msr. Neederlander. After losing her mother due to a clinical illness, her father sink into a deep depression that took his life. Leaving little Rosita in the care of her grandma at a young age, so young that she cannot remember well what her parents look like (just having a picture book as the only reminder of their faces).

But despite the tragedy, Rosita is considerate and friendly to others, but she can also become impatient and a bit difficult to tread like her grandmother, but only if people start to act mean to her or others.

If any of you have a suggestion or questions about these kids then my ask box is open!

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certainlybyitslast · 2 years

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Chicago Fire/Hawkami/Jimmy Nicholas

Who else is already twiddling their thumbs this hiatus? Also, are you living off the small morsels of social media the cast is giving us (thank you, Daniel Kyri on Instagram, you are generous). Have you been listening to Jimmy Nicholas’s podcast “Everything But The Kitchen Sink?” I watch so few movies, and I’ve never watched one “Fast and Furious” movie, but I have enjoyed Jimmy and Kyle talk about them with such passion. It’s fun listening to people who care about (sometimes small) things get worked up. Especially good friends. The Sinkies are great too. I can’t listen to the basketball stuff. There I draw the line. However, I hope there are more podcasts in the works! We need an EBTKS Chicago Fire episode featuring Hanako!

I am feeling optimistic about Hawkami for a few reasons.

1) Everyone thought the writers were going to mess up Hawakmi LONG AGO. But they didn’t. They kept moving Hawkami forward, and even though it got very complicated, they capitalized on the popularity and didn’t pull the rug out from under us. They understand that Hawakmi has fans, energy, and momentum. Andrea Newman said in an interview that the writers love writing them. They found a new muse, and its unlike to go away.

2) At the time of the finale, Jimmy would likely not have signed a contract for Season 11. So the producers and writers do not have a guarantee that Jimmy would be back next season (also, Derek Haas says they don’t think that far ahead anyway when it comes to resolving finales). The finale has to leave the door open for Hawkins to be out of the picture in a reasonable story line, in case Jimmy does not come back. Hence the frustrating ending to the finale. It seemed strange that Violet would be mad at Hawkins and not talk about it with him, and that she would look at Gallo a certain way. But it can all be corrected in a matter of minutes. I don’t see a time jump happening in the premiere of Season 11 (because of that Stellaride end scene). So we could arrive right back to the night of the wedding and have things restored in the premiere (hopefully in a sweepingly romantic way).

3) Jimmy Nicholas, bless his heart, is still giving Chicago Fire (cast, etc.) love on social media. If he was done with it, he likely wouldn’t do that. His birthday celebration featured firefighter gear and “I heart Evan Hawkins” t-shirts worn by friends. I think he is sticking around. When it came to Hanako, she wasn’t announced as a series regular until late June. If we get into July with no news, then maybe Jimmy stays a guest star in Season 11 (back and forth to NY, which is maybe what he wants), but I think we still get him back as much as we had him in Season 10. (Also, anyone else out there loving Jimmy? I hesitate getting to know actors, because you usually learn things you don’t like about them, but this Jimmy guy keeps winning in my book. He seems so genuine. He caught a great break with Chicago Fire, and its hard not to root for him. Sometimes he seems like a golden retriever on speed, but that’s still adorable too).

4) As much as I love Jimmy, the real story of Season 10 was how Violet blossomed as a character, and how well Hanako carried these big storylines. Jimmy owes much of his success to Hanako. It was her story we were told this past season (we don’t know much about Hawkins at all, which means there are more stories to be told as we find out his backstory and all the reasons those two kids feel in love). Unlike a typical slow burn “will they/won’t they,” Hawakami is “they will/they are” and here’s how. Let’s all go on the journey together. I’m in.

In a few months we’ll get the dynamic duo of Sylvie Brett and Violet Mikami back, which is awesome. Sprinkle in some Hawkami, and as the kids say (frequently, Jimmy too), LET’S GOOOOOO!

#hawkami #evan hawkins #violet mikami #hanako greensmith #jimmy nicholas #daniel kyri #chicagofire

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parcoeurs · 2 years

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u asked 4 mine so ill ask 4 urs HEEHEEHEE 😈😈 even tho u already gave me some GREAT compliments never heard b4, u r so smart fr i mean it, SO U CAN JUST DO WHATEVER WITH THIS I GUESS

oh also i can send pictures now so LOOK AT oh shit wait MY ANIMAL

🐧 penguin.

ted you funny little creature or not so littel how are you 6'6 ok actually you're basically demar and i'm kyle i understand now. i follow you because you are the most hilarious person on this app. i could read your tags on a reblog of a single wilson basketball i'm dead serious you make me actually laugh out loud. i love every insane headcanon we come up with about jimmy (derogatory) + demar/kyle. im' sorry to everyone else on this planet but they just don't get them like us. i don't want to annoy you with the same joke about those 3 over and over again BUT YOU MAKE IT SO FUNNY EVERY TIME. i love your tier lists they're quite goated actually and again, you're never wrong about them ever. you don't know what it means to be wrong on the internet! lucky you. and lucky all of us who follow you and get to see your insanely accurate and genius headcanons for the nba. you have a gift, a third eye. thank you for making me laugh :)

#buzzbeeutiful #asks #much love to the only person who understands my insane kyle mpreg AUs on a psychological level #mutual asks

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what-i-call-men · 3 years

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The Evans w an independent significant other/how clingy the Evans are

The Evans x Gn!reader

Warnings: Some possessiveness, some mentions of killing

Tate:

Tate absolutely hates when you're independent. If it were up to him you’d stay in the house with him all day and you’d be dependent on him for everything. He hates when you leave the house, when you eat without him, even if you shower without him. Let’s be real though, if you're in the house you're not alone because even if you don't see him, Tate is there watching you all the time- hell he doesn’t have much better to do. If you tell him you're staying at a friend’s or going out at night, not sure when you’d be home, he would immediately try to stop you from going. When you eventually get off the property he waits at the window for you to come back just like a needy puppy. “But babe, why go to a party with sweaty horny teenagers when you could stay here and we could play a board game?” “Tate we played Monopoly, candy land, twister, uno and parcheesi today. I don’t even think we own any more board games.”

Kit:

Kit kinda finds it attractive. He obviously has his moments of wanting to be the provider and take care of you, but he also loves that you listen to him about his work and retain alot of it. He’s watched you diagnose a problem on your own car and you were completely correct on it when he took a look. On a night he had to stay late at the shop working on one car that wouldn’t seem to start, you show up to his work dressed in some jeans and one of his work shirts, offering to help him with the cars so he could get out of work a little sooner. Man, he almost creamed his pants then and there. He watched you as you looked under the hood, tweaking and filling and checking, not asking him for any help, and Kit was immediately reminded of why he loved you so much. Eventually he’d have to shake himself out of it, bumping your hip with his own. “Hey, suga, as great as you look bent over this car, you’re showin’ me up.”

Kyle:

Kyle absolutely loves watching you be independent and strong. You were in some of his engineering classes and you always seemed to know what you were doing. He had stopped you after the lecture and asked you for some help on one of his projects, and he was honestly wowed at your understanding of the work, having only been explained it 10 minutes earlier. He loves when you very blatantly turn down other guys or tell them that they’re wrong. He also boasts you up and helps you look better, a lot of the time this happens when you present research in class. Usually you read him your speeches as you write them, and he will ask questions after you present so you can reiterate your main points. “Any questions?” “Yeah can you tell us more about what you consider the biggest pros of solar power?” Post-death Kyle kinda depends on you so you had to be very independent. He likes to watch you carry the groceries by yourself or take care of the garden outside your small house. This includes when you have to fix up things around the house, you always muttering how you don’t need some old man coming into your house and telling you to turn a couple screws and charging you for it. Although Kyle never knows what you're doing or how to help, he is very good at holding flashlights and handing you screws. “Kyle, could you hand me the drill? No the drill… the drill… You know what, just hold this flashlight for me, hun.”

Jimmy:

Jimmy gets confused sometimes. Sometimes when you offer to carry props or set pieces, he will refuse your help and ask Eve or someone else, thinking that his significant other should never have to lift a finger as long as he has something to do with it. It isn’t until he loses his hands that he has to let you do everything. He watches as you lift set pieces, or pull down a rope and just kind of watches in awe because you are so much stronger than you look. He secretly loves watching you show off your strength, especially when you kicked a heckler right in the balls and the man passed out from the pain. When another heckler started insulting you during a show, you fully began to roast him in front of the crowd, this never failed to amaze Jimmy. He always loved to watch you deal with people like that because you were so quick to tell them off in a way that made them drop the fight all together. “Darlin’ you know if I could help it you’d never have to lift a single finger?” “Jimmy, you can’t even feed yourself, I have to lift a few fingers.”

James:

James gets conflicted by your independence. He loves when you ask him for help or when you search him out for encouragement, but when he saw you murder a man trying to abuse his girlfriend, and you dragged him to one of James’ body chutes, James couldn’t have been more proud. He loved to watch you murder alone, but he absolutely hated when you would leave the hotel to go out or go to work. He knew you didn’t need protection from him but that didn’t stop him from wanting you to jump into his arms and ask him to help you. He didn’t love it when you would go to the bar alone, all dressed up, drinking and eventually getting others to join in on seudo karaoke, but he loved to see you enjoying yourself and sometimes you’d make him join in. Most of the times you did ask him for any kind of help, you never let him do it all. Sometimes there would be a body you couldn’t lift, so James would offer his help a few times before you finally said yes, only letting him help you lift it, then shooing him away and taking care of the body by yourself. “Dearest, do you need help?” “No.” “Darling, you’re going to hurt yourself, let me help.” “No, James.”... “James, Can you just lift his feet up for me?” “Of course my love.”

Kai:

HA you thought. Kai doesn’t want you to be independent AT ALL. If you were independent before meeting him, that definitely changes when you’re with him. He doesn’t like you going out alone, if somehow you get him to budge on that, you’re not driving yourself, if you somehow do, you have a curfew to be back home by before he comes out and picks you up. Usually that leads to some sort of argument or fight. You always have to have your location on on your phone if you do go out. He also may or may not have a tracker on your car just in case. If you’re the kind of person that’s chill with not being independent, Kai will usually keep you within eyesight if you’re in the house. If you need to pee or want to make food, usually Kai will either join you or silently pick up whatever he’s doing and move with you into whatever room you’re going into. It’s less of a clingy thing as it is paranoia for him- he wants to make sure you’re loyal to him all the time. “Where’re you going?” “The bathroom to take a shower.”... “I’ll join you.” You could never really fight him on it.

Malcolm:

Malcolm kind of expects you to be independent, but he does enjoy it when you two hang out. He can’t spend all the time with you and you both have jobs that take up your time so being clingy or obsessive is a no-no for him. He likes to send you texts and pictures during the day though and he also enjoys facetiming when you can’t see each other. Overall being with Malcolm is one of the most healthy and non-toxic relationships you could be in. Even when you two move in together, you were both very independent and respectful of each others space. The only exception was on days Malcolm felt sad or lonely, he’d come over to the couch where you sat on your laptop, laying his head on your lap in the way of the screen, pouting up at you. “Can we watch some cheesy reality show and get drunk?” He’d ask and you’d laugh. “Want me to play with your hair too?” “Fucking of course.”

Jeff:

Jeff could be either one of the extremes. He’d either be extremely obsessed with you, wanting to provide you with everything you asked for before you even asked for it, or he’d tell you you’re in an open relationship and treat you like a choice. There’s really not too much in between. If he’s clingy, Jeff would put your relationship in every aspect of his life, even offering you more than your job paid you so you could just sit at his desk every day and do coke with him. He would never let you drive to work alone and would spend pretty much all day talking with you or even just staring at you as you did your own work on your laptop. “So how are you doing?” “I’m the same as I was two minutes ago.” If Jeff was ok with your independence, he’d pretty much expect it from you. If you were going to independent, so was he, pretty much meaning the two of you were not much more than fuck buddies. Sometimes though he’d get jealous of how much you got drinks bought for you at a bar, or how many other people you’d post on social media with, wishing he had the guts to ask for more from you, but never actually doing it. “Y/n can I ask you something?” “yeah.” “Do you… Would you… You want some coffee?” “Nah i’m good.”

#tate langdon #kit walker #kyle spencer #Jimmy darling #james patrick march #kai anderson #malcolm gallant #jeff pfister #the evans #the Evans x reader

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falloutjay · 3 years

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The guys with a quiet s/o that falls asleep easily and almost everywhere

I'm sorry I took so long but I'm happy with the outcome. I hope you enjoy it as much, as I enjoyed writing it! ❤️

Cartman:

He totally gets the falling asleep everywhere.

He often feels tired too and would love to just fall asleep.

If it's at his or your place, he will join you in napping.

If you happen to fall asleep on him, he will simply move as little as possible and play stuff on his phone, a content smile lingering on his face.

That will quickly disappear if anyone would approach you two and he will bring out his very nasty side if anyone wants to disturb your slumber.

Having a quiet partner helps Eric calm down and relax sometimes. Only sometimes as his temper is still one hell of a thing.

Stan:

Super jealous.

He would love to just fall asleep and mentions it quite often.

If he catches you sleeping, he will check if you're comfortable and if he can, bring you a blanket or give you his jacket.

If he really needs something, he might wake you up, but otherwise he's super chill about it and stares a lot at your sleeping figure.

A quiet person is someone who Stan needs in his life and he's happy it's you.

His family is super crazy, especially his dad, so he's happy to get a break from it all when he's with you.

Kyle:

He doesn't get how you can find the library table comfortable enough to sleep on it.

After a few times, he's used to you falling asleep in the library while he studies.

He appreciates that you still come along, even if it might more you so much, you literally fall sleep.

For him the best thing? You falling asleep between his legs, while he plays some game on his console. He describes it like you're a pet in his lap and it makes him super happy.

Having a calm and quiet counterpart is a secret dream of his, as his adventures with his friends can be a little extreme from time to time.

Kenny:

More jealous of your ability that Stan.

Due to his troubled household and many other circumstances he doesn't get much sleep, but also has trouble sleeping on a table or something.

He will always complain that his neck hurts or something.

When he noticed that it's no problem for you, he wondered if he could take advantage of that.

So now, when yo decide to go for a quick nap or something, be prepared that Kenny will somehow sleep on you, be it his head in your lap, on your shoulder or anything else.

He calls you his cute little pillow, even when you don't like that he actually calls you that in the hallway.

Kenny loves the quiet you and much like Stan enjoys the "break" you give him from his normal life.

Butters:

Such a little sweetheart.

If you sleep in his lap, he will play with your hair, or touch your skin and admire how pretty you are.

Like Stan, he will organize you a blanket or his jacket if he can, so you can have a nap in piece.

If he feels like doing something else while you sleep, he will play on his phone or do his homework.

He still can't help looking over ever so often and smile really hard when he thinks about how lucky he is.

He likes that you're a quite person, who doesn't get him in trouble, unlike some of his friends.

Clyde:

He doesn't get the sleeping at all.

He thinks he's boring you so much that you literally fall asleep and then you're so quiet too! It's driving him mad.

"Am I too boring? But I'm so funny and cool, ain't I?"

When he talked to his friends about it, Token and Craig hint that maybe you do that is because you feel comfortable around him.

What a confidence boost for him.

He then tells everyone with much pride, that you nap around him. Cue eye rolls from everyone else, including you.

From there on, he will not allow anyone to wake you up and he smiles really hard if you sleep in his lap or on his torso while cuddling.

Token:

Just like Kyle, he was a little surprised that you have no problem sleeping on your table.

He woke you up, worried that you might have overworked yourself from all the homework the teachers have, but you simply explained that you just can't help falling asleep sometimes.

Token still thinks it's unhealthy for your neck to just sleep on whatever you like.

But it's your thing, so he doesn't forbid you from doing it.

BUT he will also always remind you, that it's unhealthy for your neck, with little teasing jokes.

Together you are the quiet couple that enjoys books in the library rather than go out and party every weekend.

Craig:

He will totally join in napping.

He thinks it's cute how you're so quite and can fall sleep so fast and due to that, he compares you a lot to his guinea pig.

Speaking of it, he might get Stripe if you're at his place and set him down around you to take pictures.

Those pictures will be his new phone background and he loves looking at them.

He enjoys the peace and quiet you bring into his life and cherishes you a lot.

Tweek:

Was worried when you told him you fall asleep easily and pretty much everywhere.

He thought maybe you had some underlying conditions or something, but you calmed his racing mind.

He likes laying next to you on the bed sometimes and just listening to you breathing. It makes him calm and he can't help but feel at ease with you, when he's normally all over the place.

His parents think it's super cute and adore you a lot since Tweek seemed a lot calmer ever since he's with you.

BONUS JIMMY! We can't forget about or boy Jimmy:

He uses this peaceful and tranquil times to work on either the articles for the students newspaper or write his comedy shows.

Jimmy often tells you you are his "con-cont-continues source of inspiration" since he feels like he's at his peak of ideas when he's with you.

He'd sometimes wake you up if you had fallen asleep and tell you what he wrote in the mean time.

You two are the quiet and creative couple and Eric ships you hardcore.

#south park x reader #craig x reader #tweek x reader #cartman x reader #clyde x reader #jimmy x reader #token x reader #kenny x reader #stan x reader #kyle x reader #butters stotch x reader

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

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The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 10

Y/n and Will connect over a story. They put their heads together and come up with some ideas on where to find Chase.

Trigger warnings: sex trafficking, discussions of toxic relationships, codependency

This chaper also contains spoilers for the story Borrasca by CK Walker so if you haven't already read/listened to it and you want to, save this chapter for later.

Charissa was far deeper into astrology than anyone else you knew. No matter how many times she tried to explain it to you, you could never keep all the vocabulary straight. As much as you liked to indulge her pseudo-spiritual special interest, you never considered yourself a believer.

That was, until you met Will Graham.

One metaphysical concept was suddenly crystal clear to you; that of the twin flames. At first, you thought it was just a slightly dressier version of soulmates. But soulmates had to be complimentary, not identical. If you jumbled the pieces of your respective broken souls, you’d find that they fit together in a way in which you couldn’t determine where he ended and you began.

Charissa had warned you of the dangers of a twin flame romance. Both parties had to be mentally and emotionally literate, or else they could develop a toxic codependent relationship. Considering that neither you nor Will were the picture of mental health, you had to tread lightly. Having sex with him was probably just throwing gasoline on the dumpster fire your life was quickly becoming, but an extinguisher was within arm’s reach. You told yourself that if you just held on a little longer, this could be the start of something wonderful.

However, while pondering all this, you left out the crucial detail that you and Will’s shared self-destructive tendencies didn’t extend to how you treated other people. You were both very nurturing and consistently placed the needs of others over your own. And this dawned on you when you emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and greeted with the smell of food.

“Is that my shirt?” Will asked, peering over his glasses at you.

“Oh, yeah.” You tugged at the oversized undershirt he’d slept in the evening prior, which you had snatched from the floor while he was in the shower. “I figured that the dogs would be less intimidated with a stranger in the house if I smelled like you.”

Will narrowed his eyes, his suspicion eclipsed by a smile. “Sure.”

You sniffed the air. “What are you making?”

“Reubens.” He lifted the pan slightly to show you two ugly but delicious-smelling sandwiches.

“At eight in the morning?” You laughed, shoving your hands into your pockets.

“Do you not want one?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I want one.” You put your hands up in surrender.

Will flipped a sandwich over and it sizzled against the hot pan. “By the way, Jack called. He wants to see both of us at the lab today, given that you’re up for it.”

“Sure.” You leaned over the counter. “What about?”

“He wants me to examine the body of the cultist.” He explained. “Thinks maybe you can help. He also wants you to give an official statement. Apparently the national news is starting to pick up on this story.”

“I won’t have to appear on TV or anything, will I?” You asked. “That would kind of defeat the purpose of me hiding out here.”

Will slid one of the sandwiches onto a plate. “I don’t think so. He just wants you to tell the record what you know so local police forces know what to look for and so CNN has something to report on.”

“That’s fair enough, I suppose.” You took a seat at the counter, your mouth watering from the smell.

“So you know how Kimber and Kyle are siblings?” Will said, placing his plate next to yours.

You froze and put your sandwich back on the plate. “I know that, how do you know that?”

Will paused and looked away, shamefully. "I couldn't sleep last night."

"So you listened to the entire story?" Your eyes widened in shock. "The entire, seven-hour-long story?"

"I wanted to know why," Will pulled his chair closer to the counter. "Out of all the literature in the world, last night made you think of Borrasca. So I listened to it."

You took a bite of your sandwich and wiped your face with the back of your hand. "I think it was just because it has to do with sex trafficking."

"But it wasn't sex trafficking until Sheriff Walker took over, was it?" Will said. "Or at least, not according to Jimmy Prescott."

"Shit, you did listen to the whole story." You said through a mouthful of sandwich. You swallowed.

"I think there's something else there." Will hypothesized. "There's something we can take from the story that could lead us to Mulvaney, just like with NXIVM and Handmaid's Tale."

“Okay, but,” You began. “She pretty explicitly referenced both NXIVM and Handmaid’s Tale. I brought up Borrasca on my own.”

“But you did it for a reason.” Will insisted. “Just humor me, please.”

You shrugged. “You’re the professional here. By all means, follow whatever path this story takes you down if you think it’s going to get Mulvaney behind bars.”

Will nodded and reached for a pad of paper. He drew a three circle Venn diagram and assigned a story to each circle. “What do NXIVM, Handmaid’s Tale and Borrasca all have in common?”

“Sex trafficking.” You said bluntly.

“Well, yes-” Will shook his head. “But, broader. Think about the how and why.”

“Uh,” You racked your brain for the how and why. “Dehumanizing women? Turning them into property?”

“Right.” Will scribbled something that vaguely resembled what you said in the intersection of the three circles.

“They all have a sort of charismatic figurehead.” You continued. “Keith Raniere, Fred Waterford, Jimmy Prescott.”

“And each of those men had their respective degrees of power and influence.” Will added.

“But Borrasca was relatively self-contained.” You countered. “Drisking was a small little nowhere town. It was out of the way so the corrupt local police and rich families could hide the town’s fucked up secret from the rest of the world.”

“You’re on to something.” Will said, tapping his pen against the table. “Chase Mulvaney isn’t a Keith Raniere, but he wants to be. He’s Jimmy Prescott.”

“You think this is a family operation?” You narrowed your eyes.

“I think he’s operating this cult using family money.” Will began to click the pen rapidly as he processed his thoughts. “And family land.”

“So we're looking for some kind of reform camp." You concluded. "Probably one that targets young women and girls."

"Something religious, too." Will added. "But not like, a convent. He's preaching faith-based salvation so he's definitely not Catholic."

"Definitely either Southern Baptist or Evangelical." You agreed. "Or maybe some sort of strange non-denominational offshoot."

"Like those people who don't like the word religion but advocate for a christian theocracy in the US." Will muttered.

"Yeehawdists." You said under your breath.

Will cracked a small but noticeable smile at your stupid pun.

"I think we might be on to something here." Will said, an optimistic upturn in his voice. He stood up from his seat and shoved the paper in his pocket.

He grabbed your hand. "Come on. If we get to Quantico soon, I'll bet we can nail this guy tonight."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal x you #will graham #will graham x reader #will graham x you #hannigram x reader #hannigram #the sommelier #fanfic #tw sex trafficking

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ahsk1nk · 3 years

Text

How the Evans would propose

Thank you for the inspiration @mrs-march-ahs also CONGRATS ON 300 FOLLOWERS!!!!

Warning: none

Tate

- ok after a really long time of waiting and hinting that you want him to propose, he would finally ask you

- He believes that all married couples grow old and boring, so he didn’t want that to happen to both of you

- he would do it so casually may not even go down on his knee

- If you said yes he would be really happy but would try not to show it

- If you said no, he wouldn’t have asked in the first place

Kit

-Kit would be so romantic, and kinda clique. Picnic, music from the radio, flowers, just everything you would expect to see in a rom com.

- He would be really nervous but at the same time really happy that he wants to take such a big step with you

-if you say yes, he could tackle you with hugs and kisses. Of course you would have live with his other wives but that doesn’t matter because he’s hot!

- if you say no he would be heart broken but try to seem ok. He would cry in his bed and won’t come out

Franken Kyle

- once you told him what marriage meant and explained your interpretation of it, kyle proposes immediately

- He says he loves you so much and that he knows that he wants you...... forever

- If you say yes he will have a similar reaction as Kit’s but more aggressive

- If you say no then he will hit his head with his hand really hard and call himself stupid (poor bb)

Jimmy Darling

- He would do it in his caravan and everyone from the show would help him decorate with flowers and fairy lights

- Everyone would be waiting outside, listening closely to hear your answer

- Jimmy would be so nervous, that when he asks you, he’ll have a stutter

- If you say yes, he’ll hug you tightly and everyone from the outside would come in, crowding the space

- If you say no, Jimmy would try to talk to you and see what’s wrong.

Skipping James because there is a whole story on the profile I tagged above.

Rory

- he would make it really big and public

- Ehhh idk what else

- If you say yes he would put it on social media right away

- If you say no he would get mad at you

Kai

- he would tell you that it’s only for his image so it would be an organized proposal

- (Although he says it’s only for the “image” we all know he secretly loves you and wants to be with you)

- He would do it in public so everyone can see, maybe after one of his rallies

- You can only say yes because that’s what you rehearsed, but all of it would be acting so very dramatic reaction from the both of you

Mr. Gallant

- I think he would ask you casually after sex because he realized how much he loves you

- Or

- He would make a huge plan to ask you and be really nervous about it

- No in between

- If you say yes he would be really happy and post a cute picture on his Instagram

- If you say no, I think he would take it fine, he would understand why you might want to take some time

Jeff

- he would use a robot to ask you because he would be too shy, that’s it

#ahs hotel #cute #television #fluff #ahs cult #ahs asylum #ahs coven #ahs headcanon #hc #proposal #evan peters

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sparkles-and-trash · 5 years

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more older South Park kids headcanons

trash note: please, take this as an apology for the fact that I’ve abandoned ya’ll a bit lately! I hope to have the next Clandestine part up by Sunday, and I’ll be back to a normal schedule next week. Also, this is a mess, but it’s what a lot of you wanted!

- TALL TWEEK, TALL TWEEK! (in courtesy of @artistictea)

-or you know, at least “taller than Craig, Tweek”

- like, imagine Craig hit his end height pretty early and was used to being the tallest of his peers, and suddenly Tweek has a late growth spurt and he’s suddenly taller than him and neither of them knows how to deal with it, practically when it comes to kissing and cuddling and ya know ;)))

- I’ve said it before, but Butters is a bi boooy change my mind

- one of the main reasons the other bothers with Cartman trough middle school, when he is at his worst, is because of his big basement, the old Coon Lair, who got a big renovation around 7th grade and is an awesome, private hangout spot with a big TV and wifi and gaming systems

- dw, he still gets his reality check the day even Kenny and Butters, who usually have more patience with him, finally ditch him completely

- Butters put up with Cartman for so long because he genuinely thinks he can be fun when he’s not horrible, and he really tries his best to believe in people

- Kenny did because he deep down feels a little bad for Cartman, he’s def the one of his friends and peers who has the most insight when it comes to trauma and the effect of his upbringing and stuff, and he has a deep need to try to understand people the best he can

- speaking of my boys, Butters did have a pretty huge crush on (a very unaware) Kenny during middle school, but then they started hanging out a lot more and became really close and Butters didn’t really bring it much thought - that’s until Cartman gets jealous and throws out a “what are you guys dating and fucking and being gay huh???” and Butters mind immediately goes to “omg ew no he’s like my brother!”

- aaand that’s how Butters realized he was over his crush

- they stay close friends tho, Kenny makes Butters laugh and helps him be more sure of himself and Butters helps Kenny remember that they’re still just kids and should have fun and be good

- I’m sorry but Wendy and Bebe starts dating late in high school and is a huge ass power couple

- Wendy is openly pan and gender fluid by then and while Bebe is pretty popular with the boys, she never really showed that much interest in anyone, so when they start dating not that many people are surprised except Clyde who cried for a week because he was sure the were “endgame”

- just picture Token’s face when Clyde chokes out the word “endgame”, totally serious, between heart wrenching sobs

- so done

-while his friends and classmates loves the perks of his wealth, Token feels bad about it a lot, he has a tendency to get a little down about the world and it’s unfairness

- he works with a lot of charities and is a volunteer and both the pet shelter, the homeless shelter and the children ward of the hospital, and he really, genuinely loves doing it

- sometimes his friends join him, but not that much as they’re all pretty busy

-but he started running into Stan and Kenny at both the pet shelter and homeless shelter a lot. as Stan is a huge animal rights lover and Kenny genuinely likes helping both people and animals, and they start becoming better friends because of this, eventually brining the two groups closer together

- Kyle’s a little reluctant and jealous at first, but in the end he realizes he and Tweek like a lot of the same games and shows and quickly forget about being wary of the other gang

- while they all hang out a lot, in the end they are still Stan’s gang and Craig and Those Guys at heart

- and that’s okay

- Jimmy and Stan bond over their interest in writing in an English class Freshman year

- however, Jimmy generally writes a lot of comedy and satirical pieces, while Stan is very into the more Lovecraftian stuff, mixed with steampunk fantasy and a lot of dark poesy and at first Jimmy is a little taken aback and worried because of that

- but he learns that writing is Stan’s way of dealing with the dark thoughts and feelings, and is generally doing pretty darn good

- however, whenever Stan has a bad day or week, Jimmy or Kyle is always the first two people to notice and do something because of that

- Kenny doesn’t necessarily wear that much female targeted clothes anymore, just the occasional floral printed hoodie etc as hoodies is literally all he wears, but he still really like it and the older he gets, the more he gets into fashion and design and stuff

- he starts drawing a lot more, which he is okay at already, and he’s obsessed with couture fashion, even tho he think the pricing of the clothes and the fact that they’re only made for tall, think models are ridiculous

- he secretly dreams of making those types of clothes for all types of people, rich, poor, boys, girls, gender fluids, non-binary, tall, short, thin, thick, you know, just a very all inclusive type of thing

- if any one of these kids become a jock, it’s def Kyle with his basketball change my mind

- but not like, a letterman wearing fuckboy type of jock, but like, is obsessed with his sport and his team and works really hard to do well type of jock

- in Craig and Tweeks relationship, Craig is totally the whipped one, he knows it, Tweek knows it, everyone knows it, and Craig does not give one single fuck about it

- he just really loves and adores his boyfriend and if that’s a problem people can go and fuck themselves :)

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aleapoffaithfiction · 5 years

Text

This is not a coincidence  And far more than a lucky chance  But what is that was always meant  Is our ribbon in the sky for our love, love  - Stevie Wonder

Am I a pessimist?

History has shown that it is quite laughable that Americans celebrate Thanksgiving and yet every year, we flood the grocery stores spending hundreds of dollars to prepare a meal for a large number of people who we most likely won’t see or communicate with until the very next year when they’ve come to freeload from our dining room table all over again for the same ol’ holiday. It’s all in “thanks” though, right?

I think Thanksgiving is more of a performance for my mother than it is a time for thankfulness and bonding. It often feels like the event of the month for the neighborhood and she seems to hypothetically leave the door open for anyone to either drop by to have a couple of words with her or sit down to have a plate of the feast made by the hands of she, my sister, and myself. It’s also a day for her to head into her closet to pull out pieces of her more expensive attire that she likely purchased with my Nordstrom credit card. Today, when the apron came off, she only claimed to be freshening up, but upon exiting her bedroom she was donning a Roland Mouret dress and Christian Louboutin “Piagelle” pumps. I found myself scratching my head in confusion at the manner in which the pale orange material skimmed over her frame like a second skin. Though subtle, the seams were angular in their waist-defining approach. I hadn’t seen her wear anything that formfitting since the last date night she and my father enjoyed before his untimely death. The pearl set she paired with it was typical. She swears every woman should have a set of them though the world has certainly moved on to strictly gem stones. Thankfully, she didn’t put together a clutch bag or purse because I probably would have screamed in mental agony at how ridiculous she would have looked. Like a woman competing for a pageant, she’s been working the rooms filled with people all throughout the house for clout that she doesn’t need in the slightest.

“You still hiding in this corner?” I didn’t have to look up to know it was Kyle. Every year he flies up here from Miami to spend the holiday with Preston and my sister, so he ends spending the holiday right here in Brooklyn at my mom’s like the rest of us. Initially, I thought they’d pushed Kyle in my direction because we’re not that far apart in age and could probably relate on some things, but over these past two years I now know it’s because yet again Celeste thinks that she’s found someone who can be a good match for me. She does her most fucked up rendition of cupid whenever she comes across a man who she’d be interested in herself if she weren’t married and then she pushes him in my direction. I fell for her bullshit with Shamel but it will never happen again. Also, her husband’s brother? That’s entirely too close for comfort.

“It’s my preferred place to be when I’m not feeling the atmosphere.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Merlot.” I’ve been babysitting this glass of wine for over an hour now. My tongue is yearning for a Don Julio Paloma. If I don’t get home too late tonight, I’m absolutely going to fix one for myself while I watch whatever movie that’s OnDemand that I missed out on while it was in the theaters.

“I think Preston has some Barcardi in there. You want some?”

“No, I’m okay with this.” I only made the decision to indulge as a literal painkiller. I needed something to relax my body after having mostly been on my feet since early yesterday morning when I was rushed out of my bed to go and pick up a few last-minute items from Walmart.

I had no choice but to leave Odell tangled in top sheet and blanket as I quietly readied myself and put together an overnight bag for the following day. I thought I’d at least be able to make him breakfast but her demanding phone calls did not cease until I was actually at the store. As of now, my feet are viciously aching and I barely have enough energy to move my mouth to speak to everyone, let alone walk around. I’ve been wanting to go to sleep since I ate and I’m mentally cursing myself out for choosing to wear these boots, though they’re one of my most comfortable pairs.

“I think it’s cool that you all host this every year. My family always went to my grandmother’s for holidays. We never hosted anything at the house because my folks were never into that.” Neither am I. Maybe that’ll change when I have my own family, but as of right now, I’d rather keep my home as the safe haven that it is.

“Yeah, we’ve been doing it as far back as my memory goes. I feel like my father set the precedent. He was a people person and chose to have an open-door policy within the neighborhood. It used to be the one trait about him that drove my mother insane, but somehow, she adjusted to it and opened herself up to understanding why he chose to be that way. If people needed anything, they knew they could come here and we’d help out somehow. I guess you can say that our blessings were fruitful so that we’d be able to share them with others.” Though he’s no longer with us, I’ve kept his gems about being about the community embedded into my conscious. I donate to women’s shelters, the Boys and Girls Clubs, afterschool programs within the inner-city schools, and I’m working on creating recreational weekend sports camps for this up and coming summer.

“You look a lot like him.”

“Yeah, my looks definitely lean in his direction.”

“Great looks, by the way.” With a faint chuckle, my shoulders slouched in an adjustment for the slight aches in my back. Living alone has its perks and not having to constantly stand in front of a hot stove every day is one of them. The last time I stood on my feet for hours cooking was last year, this time. I’m just not used to it.

“Thanks, Kyle.”

“So, what’s it like being on ESPN? I know that it was always a dream of yours and it’s cool as hell to see you sitting up there. I feel like often times when we look at public figures on television, it almost seems like jobs like that are so far out of our reach and yet look at you. It’s impressive.”

“It’s great. It still feels surreal and then it has its pressure and stressfulness too. It’s a job in every single sense and I think a lot of people don’t think about it that way. A lot of people look at the glitz and glamor of it, but there’s so much that goes into our panel being able to sit there and entertain people every morning with our sports knowledge and banter.”

“I believe you. I know there’ll be a lot of work to put in for it, but is the goal to have your own show?”

“I don’t know. I’ve thought about it and sometimes it sounds ideal and other times I feel like I want to do something more. I don’t know if I want to spend the rest of my life on television but I probably wouldn’t mind it either depending up on the circumstances. I’m trying to figure that out. I know I want to create my own sports platform or possibly be in collaboration with another black creative or many of them to create something for us and by us. I can try and get our people in the door at ESPN but that final say isn’t mine, you know? And that fucks with me.” It still makes me chuckle when people call Scott the “token white” on our panel but it makes perfect sense in all of the wrong ways. His overdone sarcasm and constant need to play the devil’s advocate doesn’t negate his talent but could they have added a black journalist in his place? Would they have is the real question? I can’t call it.

“I feel you. I feel the same way. In tech, there aren’t many of us. I spend a lot of time going to speak at historically black colleges to persuade students to bring their talents to the field. You’d be surprised how a lot of the internal parts or software programming for some of our favorite gadgets are created from ideas young talented blacks have either sold or got swept under the table over due to fucked up contracts. I’m doing my best to change that reality, because I’m not slaving for anybody and none of us shouldn’t have to.”

“Cheers to that.” As our glasses clinked, I nodded in appreciation. Kyle and I always have great conversations and if Celeste weren’t so pressed for me to romantically pursue him, I think we’d be great friends. He’s progressive in all the right ways.

“Pictures please! You know I do a Facebook photo album every year. Stand up Sarai.” She came out of nowhere like a bat out of hell. I hadn’t even heard her Jimmy Choos clacking against the floor. I’m now finally realizing that both she and mommy have the same curls in their hair. What a kiss ass. I’ve been rocking a hat since guests began to arrive. After having sweated out my hair in the kitchen, I couldn’t be bothered with slaving in the bathroom with a flat iron trying to fix the pity. This slicked back ponytail will have to be until Anna fixes me up tomorrow.

“I’m not standing up.”

“Don’t be a sour grape.”

“My feet hurt. You can take one or two with me sitting right here.” Though she prepared her phone for the photos, it didn’t happen without her childishly rolling her eyes and stomping one heel clad foot. Kyle allowed it to be a solo moment by standing up and stepping away from the warm mantle of the fireplace. Even with the bit of makeup I put on to mask the exhaustion, I know I’m not in a picture worthy state but I’ll compromise for the sake of not having to hear her go on an attention seeking rant.

“Can you at least smile?”

“This is not a photo shoot. Take the pictures and send them to me when you finish. You’re not going to have me looking crazy online.” She took them, but without flash, and that within itself left me weary of her intentions. I’m slumming it in my joggers and this little off the shoulder top I randomly found on a clearance rack at Wet Seal. It damn near looks like I dressed myself in pure darkness but I’m making it work enough for myself alone. I wasn’t wearing pearls either way.

“I sent them. They’re cute.”

Surprisingly, they are. Daddy swears both Celeste and I get our photographic nature from our mother. He had a thing for constantly either videotaping or snapping pictures of us around the house or during family outings. Keepsakes of that kind have always been a tradition on his side of the family and he felt compelled to instill that in our household so that the future generations could use it all to piece together our family’s tree and history.

Everything we have is idly collecting sheets of dust in the lower cabinets of the entertainment center in the living and that’s where they’ll remain until someone has the courage to pull them out for what is sure to be the most draining emotional rollercoaster that any of us needs right now. I’m still trying to figure out how to navigate my memories of him, so I’d rather not clog it with better detailing about our days. I don’t know when I’ll get to the point of complete acceptance with a clear conscious but I’m with dealing it. For now, that’s enough.

I felt like a booty call gone wrong when you just got up and left like that. I woke up like, oh wow…

Heat flushed through my face as a fit of giggles erupted from my core at his nonsense. Not only did I text him and let him know that I left, but I wrote down the security code for the security system so he’d be able to lock the door whenever he planned to leave out.

How did you feel like a booty call when I left you in my bed? It’s not like I walked out of a hotel room on you. No one leaves booty calls in their own beds. If anything, I treated you like a booty call that I plan on calling again.

I considered waking him up, but the serene expression on his sleeping face halted my actions. The side of his face was meshed into the plush pillow on my side of the bed once he readjusted his position and though he reached for me, my absence didn’t wake him.

Oh, so that’s all I’m good for?

I despise how he has the capability of making me blush with his silly little banter and presence alone. It’s a naturalness that I’ve never experience at any of point of my life thus far and comprehending it seems undoable. My grandmother used to say that sometimes we don’t need to think but instead just feel but that is by far the most perplexing statement I’ve ever heard. All I know how to do is think, especially over these last couple of years.

Don’t be offended. At least I like it.

Like it? Lately I’ve been questioning if that’s enough to describe it. Liking it would be simple and this is anything but simple. I can do simple and blow it out of my way, but this? It’s a fucking enigma.

Happy Thanksgiving gorgeous. I’m rocking the boot today. Everyone is loving it.

Unexpectedly, an impromptu picture of himself standing in front of the grandeur double doors of his home followed his message. Per his usual, he was in loud textures that only he can get away with and hilariously covered in winter attire above the waist and summer attire below it. He wouldn’t be himself without having the crimson Supreme crossbody bag around him to perfectly match the boot. Oh, and how can I forget the phone case? Everything about his style would reek of hypebeast if it were anyone else and yet for him, it’s as uniquely expressive as his personality can be.

Handsome.

And that he is. It’s throttling.

Thank you, baby. Send me something.

The prickling in my dampening skin worsened my posture. I’ve never sent racy photographs to any man and yet the thought of sending a few to him is doing more to me than I understand, though that’s not what he’s requesting. Shamel would request them from me quite often and I’d deny him every time because the thought of laying back somewhere and spreading my thighs for a photograph of something that I barely wanted to give to him was unwarranted. On birthdays and holidays, I’d get pieces of lingerie that were satisfying to his eyes rather than well thought out gifts with aspects of my taste involved in the selection process and all of it was left in a box on the side of the street when I moved. I didn’t even deem it worthy enough to be sent out to the shelters and Goodwill's that I donate plenty of my things to.

I couldn’t bother with putting on anything special because I’m in no mood for that, so don’t judge me.

I bit the bullet by sending one of the pictures taken by the ever-nagging Celeste. Now that I’m looking at it, I know damn well I could have put on a pair of jeans with this flannel shirt.

You’re the epitome of beauty in every sense.

Not even the sudden presence of Quinton’s frame walking past me could put a damper on the gut-wrenching fluttering uncontrollably multiplying throughout every bit of me as I read his words over a few times. Does he know what he’s doing to me? Has he called my bluff? Am I exposed?

Even with a bad hair day?

I’m not completely aware of all of the details of his dating history but I’ve seen the women he has been rumored to have dated and much like anything would expect, they’re picture perfect. I don’t fit into the mold of those ideal body types who have all of their curves in the right places with a perfect set of perky boobs and an ass that is sure to make any man look back twice. I don’t even understand my shape enough to be able to describe it but I do my best to work with what I have.

Once upon a time, I thought about ridding myself of my breast insecurities by having a fat transfer done to plump them up without having to have implants inserted. Shamel didn’t make the situation any better by agreeing that I’d go from average to a dime piece if I did so. He even offered to pay for it if the insurance wouldn’t. When he and I split, I finally had the time to really sit down and consider if it was something that I desired to do for myself and it was then that I let the idea of it go. I am who I am. Laying on a surgeons table was never going to fix the issues within my mental space.

What bad hair day? I don’t see a single hair out of place. Am I still seeing you tonight? I miss you. I know it sounds weird for me to say that because we were just together, but I really do.

Not only am I physically drained and in need of my bed, but I also have to work tomorrow. I considered making this weekend a four-day weekend for myself last week but it slipped my mind to request the day off.

It doesn’t sound weird. I miss you too. I’m so tired though. You don’t want sleepy company, do you? I just want to lay in the bed.

I’m purposefully sitting on this bricked fireplace, because it’s uncomfortable and keeping me from dozing off somewhere.

Well, my bed is waiting for you to come and go to sleep in it. I don’t mind sleepy company at all. Come on.

I’m still very convinced that the universe is somehow trolling my life for whatever reason. Where did this man come from? When my prayers go beyond my loved ones and I began my requests to the man above for myself, I only pray for peace. This isn’t peace. It’s disruptive, confusing, and yet so damn earth shattering.

I’ll let you know when I’m on my way. I have work tomorrow, so I have to head to my house to grab some things so that I’ll be able to properly ready myself in the morning.

Hopefully, it’s not too late.

Sounds good. See you in a bit. Oh, and bring me some red velvet cake.

It took an additional twenty minutes of me idly sitting there to muster up the strength to move. Upon observing the room, Quinton walked past me twice without a word spoken and though it didn’t trouble me, I can’t say that I’m not shocked about his chosen tension and immaturity. I thought we’d be better than that because as he said, we have a history, and it goes beyond a date that didn’t turn out the way he wanted it to.

You win some, you lose some. Despite everything said between the two of us that night, I haven’t held any of it against his character and I probably never will because I honestly do believe that he’s a good guy with a good heart. I just think he’s lost track of who he is beyond the political career and until he figures that out, he will continue to make superficial decisions for his life all for the sake of upholding a specific public image.

“You coming to eat again?” Though everything else remain perfectly in place, mommy finally removed the heels and comfortably leaned against the kitchen’s island in a pair of Nike slippers she took out of my closet about two months ago.

“No. I can’t eat another bite. I’m just going to take some dessert with me for right now and then I’ll come over tomorrow after work for anything else I have a taste for.” I’m going to bring Beckham some red velvet cake, pineapple upside-down rum cake, and a bit of banana pudding. That should more than satisfy his sweet tooth. I handled all of the desserts this year. Next year, I’ll be damned if Celeste doesn’t help me.

“You look tired. I told you if you’d get into that kitchen of yours more often, you’d be used to this.”

“Cooking for a neighborhood of people? Not really.”

“Cooking for your family.”

“I cooked with my family, which counts for something. I don’t have a family of my own and I’m not sure if or when that’s going to happen for me, so I haven’t cared to train myself. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. The fact is, I actually do know how to cook, so I’ll be fine either way.”

“You could have a family of your own but you choose to avoid it.” If I’m avoiding anything, it’s where this conversation is about to go.

“With Quinton? Yeah, I’m sure that makes sense to you but it never will for me and I don’t appreciate you inserting yourself into that situation. I’m perfectly capable of choosing who I will and will not involve myself with romantically. I don’t need any lobs or assists from you.”

“If you’re so capable of choosing, why haven’t you chosen anyone? Why is he not worthy of a proper chance? You didn’t even try.”

“There was nothing to try. I’m not interested. I get it, though. It looks like it makes sense since we come from the same background, have success stories while coming out of the same neighborhood, and his mother and yourself can relate in ways that are both painful and triumphant, but it’s not going to work for me.” Quinton and I look good on paper. We’re ideal in the general sense, but anything beyond that? We’re a disaster waiting to happen.

“So, what is? You live in that huge home of yours all alone and you want to do that for the rest of your life? I worry that you’ll actually do that. Companionship is a good thing, Sarai. Having someone around to balance out life with you is healthy. Celeste has her own life and though I am your mother, you need more than just my shoulder to lean on whenever you take a break from that overly done independent woman rampage, you’re on.” Rampage? If anyone’s on a rampage, it’s her. She’s on a rampage for me to be barefoot and pregnant while being subservient to someone not even worth my troubles.

“Whatever I do will be my decision and I’ll have to live with that, not you. You’re so adamant about all of this, but you don’t even know half of the shit I went through with Shamel. So, excuse me for not being as enthusiastic about settling down as you need me to be. As I said before, I don’t know if or when it’ll happen, but I’ll be okay either way. Sometimes I wonder if the only time you’ll be proud of me is when I put on a big fluffy white dress and vow my life over to someone, because you certainly don’t show it when it comes to anything else that I do.”

“Oh, nonsense. Don’t do that Sarai. You know that I’m proud of you.”

“Well, you have a poor way of showing it. Excuse me.”

I had to put the banana pudding in a small plastic to go bowl because I didn’t want it to touch the pieces of cake I had on the plate. I don’t know about him, but occasionally I can be super anal when certain food touches one another. It throws the taste off.

“It’s late and since the crowd in here has died down, I’m going to head home. I have to work in the morning. I’ll be over here tomorrow.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure.” I’m not cooking anything, so leftovers it is. I’m definitely coming.

“Well, give me a hug and kiss before you go.” I fulfilled her request immediately. I would have done so whether she asked or not. No matter what we disagree about, she is my mother. I don’t allow our indifference to steer me from that reality. I have one parent now and I’m going to nurture that as best as I can for as long as I’m granted to. I’d rather not live with any regrets.

“Drive safely and let us know when you get home.”

“Will do.”

People being slumped inside of the comfort of their homes or someone else’s seemed to keep the traffic down. I avoided the tolls by taking the FDR drive and Harlem River drive to Hudson Terrance in Fort Lee. Even Exit 73 was clear and I always tend to hit a bit of a slowdown whenever I’m coming from that direction.

The sight of my bed enticed me like no other as I lazily put together all that I needed to make the morning go as smoothly as possible while I drag and dread having to make that commute to Bristol. I’m going to need the most potently caffeinated cup of coffee while driving myself up there and I’ll probably need another for the commute back. That aside, having no plans for the weekend is absolutely official. I intend to sleep until my body can’t take it anymore.

On my way.

The anticipation to be within his presence battled the fatigue like the fiercest gladiator and that yearning carried me back out of the door and into my car. Even if I attempted to pass out, the guilt of standing him up would have kept me wide awake and staring up at my ceiling. I’m not even sure what to call Beckham but he’s my…something.

Taylor’s my person in the same manner that Meredith Grey is to Christina Yang. Is Beckham, McDreamy? Are our souls tying within that manner? It’s terrifying to think about and even more distressing to know that in some manner, it feels that way.

With Eris and Khan idly walking around the entry driveway to his home, there he sat awaiting my presence. It was the sight of the headlights that alert him to stand to his feet and I barely had the car in park before he was standing alongside the driver’s side of it.

“Glad you made it safely.” As the seatbelt slid back into its proper position, he leaned in and I instantly pressed my lips into the warmth of his for the kiss we both seemed to have been anticipating.

“You didn’t have to wait out here in the cold. I could have rung the bell.”

“It’s nothing. It’s not that bad out here anyway.” It was his strength that pulled me out of the seat and I was thankful for it because I know I would have sat there for much longer than necessary. The Chanel bag he gifted to me was all I had to carry inside, because he handled the rest.

The chattering coming from the kitchen and the low music was to be expected but with it nearing almost midnight, it was clear that whatever crowd he had in the house before had already gone home.

“That’s momma, Jazzy, and Kordell in there. They knew you were coming. You cool with saying hey?”

“Of course. I can’t just come in here and not speak.”

“You’re tired.”

“Tired, but not rude.”

There’s something about being in the house with his family that unnerved me. It’s not their presence but instead the circumstances for why I’m here. Family tends to be perceptive and how would his feel knowing that I’m likely going to lay alongside him in his bed tonight as I rest? It’ll be no marital bed.

Despite our ages, it doesn’t prevent people from side eying or negativity whispering about whatever it is they’re frowning down upon. Heather and I mutually admire one another and I’d hate for her to no longer feel the same way about me or believe that I’m a poor influence for her daughter.

“Sarai! You made it. Happy Thanksgiving.” Her long arms pulled me in for the bear hugs that she always gives. They’re comforting and reassuring; maternal and yet friendly all at once.

“Happy Thanksgiving. How are you?”

“I’m so good. Look Jazzy. Meet Sarai. Sarai this is O’s little sister Jasmine and his little brother Kordell. Sonny’s sleeping.” In some ways, the both of them resemble him, especially Kordell. He’s literally the milk chocolate version of his older brother. In just my short moments of observing him, they also have similar mannerisms in the way they shift and squint their eyes.

“Wait, so this is your girl? This is the one? She be on TV with Kobe.”

“Kordell, shut up. It’s nice to meet you, Sarai. My brother speaks very highly of you.”

“You do too. Don’t try to water down the fangirling you be doing.” Beckham needed to put them on blast in order to save himself from the playful embarrassment they were attempting to inflict on him. I was once just as annoying to Celeste whenever she’d bring company over to the house. Even though we didn’t share a room, I’d deliberately invade her privacy just to be an annoying ass.

“I am a fan.” There was pride in her tone.

“I appreciate it Jazzy. Thank you.”

“How was your Thanksgiving? Did you spend it with family?” In her usual behavior whenever I’m here, Eris circled my feet and I leaned over to give her the attention she craved.

“It was nice. I spent it in Brooklyn with my mom, sister, and brother-in-law. Some family stopped by and a whole bunch of neighborhood friends. My mom likes to do it big for Thanksgiving, so it was busy.”

“It sounds like a good time though.”

“It was. It turned out nicely.” People kept the peace. I suppose that’s nice enough. I’ve been at family functions when shit has gone left and arguments happened.

“That’s good. Are you hungry? We have plenty.”

“I’m stuffed, but I love leftovers, so tomorrow sounds like a plan.” I could raid his fridge and my mothers. Either way, I can’t lose.

“You’re welcome to whatever you like. We were just getting ready to start…” Before she could finish the statement about the UNO game they were soon to begin, her impatient son cut her off.

“She’s tired. She has to get up for work in the morning.”

“If you wanted her all to yourself, all you had to do was say so.” What his siblings didn’t accomplish, she had. The rosiness flushing throughout his face tickled me into an uncontrollable laughter, that eventually both his mother and sister joined in on.

“She really does have to get up for work in the morning.”

“I do, but I can play a round of UNO. It’s no big deal.”

“You can play tomorrow. You need to sleep.” He held his hand out for me as if I were a stubborn child. If I weren’t so tired, I would have given him a run for his money at one of my all-time favorite card games. I know he hates losing.

“Well, goodnight.” I waved before latching my hand onto his own. Can this get anymore awkward? I should have just told him to come over to my place. Next time, I will.

“Goodnight.” It was all in unison with their attention completely locked into to whatever they assume is going on between one of the most important people to them and myself. I’m not sure what he’s told them but they’re well aware that we’re beyond just being friendly. At this point, even the dimmest person could pick up on it.

“I put extra towels, wash clothes, and a toothbrush in the bathroom for you. I’m not sure if you brought your own soap, but I took some Dove body wash from out of the bathroom my momma uses whenever she’s in town and staying here. I’ll plug your phone up and sit it on the nightstand for you.”

As soon as I removed my coat, he grabbed it and walked off to hang it on the outskirts of his closet. I’d been in his bedroom before but I didn’t necessarily observe every detail about it, but it’s very telling of the demanding career that he leads. Though a master suite in size, it’s fairly simple in décor and yet exudes the masculinity that I expect. Given that he’s highly detailed and puts plenty of thought into the attire that covers his body, I’m surprised that he hasn’t hired an interior design team to come in and turn the entire house into something out of an art gallery.

“I know you’re not hungry, but do you want anything to drink?” While I rummaged through my bag, I could hear the paws of the doors pattering against the wooden floors as they made their way into his personal space.

“No, I’m okay. I do need something to sleep in though. My sleepy ass forgot to pack that.” I don’t even remember attempting to find pajamas. I was so preoccupied with finding the perfect dress to wear on air and after that, decorating for Christmas. There’s always a mixture of dread and excitement about that. That’s one of the downsides of living alone. I have to spend days putting everything up on my own and it’s not easy.

“I got you. Hold on.” Yet again, he headed in the direction of his closet. At home? I only sleep in actual pajamas if I have company. Other than that, I’m usually in bed in damn near nothing. It’s comfortable and less of a hassle.

“Okay, here’s a shirt.” I knew it would be something Giants related. I’m sure that he has thousands of team related shirts that he hasn’t worn.

“What kind of shorts do you want? The cotton Nike ones are soft and light. Or do you want sweats? You want socks too?”

“The shirt is fine. That’s all I need.” Everything else will eventually end up on the floor if I put them on.

“Okay.”

I didn’t have to ask for privacy. As soon as he placed the shirt on the bed, I was left alone with the dogs once he walked out and closed the door behind himself. He’d given me more than enough time to change, brush my teeth, and even get settled into the coziness of his California king bed. The plushness of his ice grey down comforter was coaxing me into the perfect relaxation for slumber and yet I couldn’t refrain from rocking my hips, snapping my fingers, and mumbling along to Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground”. It wasn’t loud at all, but the volume was up just enough for me to be able to make out the song. Stevie’s soulfulness has always been a part of the extensive musical collection in my mother’s living room. His sounds were our Saturday morning clean up music during my childhood and that tradition followed me all the way to my own home.

“You’re an old soul too?” His amusement didn’t go unnoticed upon his reentry.

“I don’t have much of a choice but to be that. I get it from the two who made me.” I wonder if he allows the dogs on the bed. If it were my bed, I’d allow it. They’re so lovable, even in their massive size and intimidating demeanors.

“Stevie’s only on because my momma’s here. This is a Future household.” He could barely contain his own laughter. Future?

“Oh, how enjoying it is to listen to the misogynistic raps of Hip-Hop’s walking sperm bank.” Why do women fuck Future? I need a 60 Minutes episode about that.

“He’s just misunderstood.”

“I will kick you out of your own room. Misunderstood? He’s a demon.” Though I couldn’t see him, I could hear his laughter loud and clear. I can’t front, I can and will hit the dance floor to some of those infectious trap records created by the Atlanta native but the antics of his personal life are atrocious. No, but seriously, why do women subject themselves to him? Is the dick that lethal?

“A demon huh?” I couldn’t respond. The muscles in my throat contracted into a tightness that forced my frame back against the pillows as my lips fell agape at the sight of his tattoo covered skin. His chiseled abs aside, there’s something about the manner in which the ink is etched into his golden skin that is worthy of being displayed in the Louvre. Every bit of it tells a story that I want to run my fingers over and know thoroughly from start to finish. I want to plant kisses on the areas that are representative of past pain and marvel over those that are picturesque versions of his triumph.

“That’s exactly what he is.” I wasn’t as edgy as I am now when he was in my bed and yet as he joins me in his own, I nearly want to run to the opposite side of the room. As he did that night, he stretched out his arm to invite me into his space and I slid over to the middle of the bed to meet his warmth. With one press of a button near the bed, the lights were off, setting the complete mood for the few hours of sleep that I’m going to get.

“Am I forcing you to go to bed early? You’re a night owl.”

“I’m only a night owl because having surgery ruined my sleep schedule. When you don’t have much else to do, you tend to occupy your time with crap that’ll keep you up. Video games were it for me.”

“I miss being a night owl. Nowadays, I struggle staying up past ten. This is why I hope the show moves to New York. We’re currently in on and off negotiations about that. We’re also tossing around the idea of doing a few weeks in the Los Angeles during the summers with a live audience just to change the scenery of the show. Hopefully it goes through.”

“That would be great. You’d be closer to home and L.A. is always a nice change of scenery. I’m sure Kobe would love that too.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely the one who’s advocating for that idea.”

“And we’d be together in either city, because the timing would permit it. That’s perfect, actually.” He does spend his off seasons in the West, so I can see why he made note of that.

“It could be perfect. Fingers crossed; it works out.”

Our limbs were like magnets as they intertwined at different points and he’d idly plant a kiss on my forehead seemingly every ten to fifteen seconds.

I wouldn’t consider either one of us worthy of musical recording contracts and yet as the medley of Stevie’s “Ribbon in the Sky” faintly played below us, hums from the both of us drowned out his vocal delivery. The depth and rasp of his lulled me beyond what his warmth and the comfort was already doing. It inflicted a tranquil sense of drowning that I welcomed and yet the manner in which is large palm lightly grazed over the heated skin of my inner thigh ignited a ravenous blaze for him. The seat of my flimsy barely there panties dampened with every thrashing throb of my center. I haven’t been touched in so long, I’m afraid to know if I just unraveled from a gesture so simple.

A dewiness flushed over my skin as my heart thumped against my chest in a quickened rage. The pressure ignited that natural yearning that any woman should have when lying next to the man of her affection and I have no way of being able to reach over to my own nightstand, open the draw, and grab the blackened vibrating device to handle this myself. I had to move over for the sake of my sanity and most of all, to lessen the possibility of humiliation. His now resting body didn’t allow the distance to last as long as I needed it to.

Yet again, his hand met the inside of my thigh and drew me into his side as I once was before. The aroma of his intoxicating fragrance slithered up my nose as I was locked into place with his arm, which coaxed me to whimper at such an endearing torture.

God, help me.

The scenic sunrise was my company in the shower after hitting the snooze button twice to extend the comfort that I didn’t want to lose. With a lack of regard for time, I prolonged my minutes in his state-of-the-art shower just as much. It’s the first time in a long time that I’m sorrowfully dreading stepping onto that set to do what I love to do.

“Good morning.” I attempted to be quiet but I must have not done a good enough job. As his frame towered behind me, he trailed kisses up my back, ahead of the zipper that he was pulling up from the back of my maroon pencil style dress. At home, I unraveled a wire hanger and turned it into my own personal hooked zipper closer. I prefer this. The feel of his lips pressing against my skin and the aura of his being surrounding me supersedes that any day.

“Good morning.”

Although I’ll be doing my make-up routine in my dressing room, I still moisturized my face and applied a decent amount of lip gloss to my lips as while he stood at the sink brushing his teeth. I’m not even sure if concealer will be able to do much hiding of my exhaustion today. My eyes are literally burning because they’re open and I have a budding headache just waiting to worsen as soon as I walk out of the door.

“I’m going downstairs to let the dogs outside.”

“Okay.”

I chose comfort for the commute with my favorite black Nike slippers and carried my Jimmy Choo pumps in the dust bag I keep them protected in. I didn’t bother switching purses, although the Chanel one is no match to this dress. No one’s going to see it and right now, I don’t give a shit.

While sitting on the bed, I texted Chad to take pictures of the agenda and send it over so that I can glance over it once I hit traffic, because there’s no doubt that maybe forty minutes into the commute, I will. If I can get a head start on reading over it, our briefing will be a few minutes and I’ll be able to take somewhat of a cat nap before we’re on air. If I’m not mistaken, Isaiah Thomas is coming by to speak with us today about how he’s adjusting to life in Cleveland. Boston’s decision to trade him was one hell of a shocker to the public and a blow that he took extremely personally after not only dedicating all of his loyalty to the team, but even continuing to do so after the loss of his sister. So, no matter how worn out I am, I certainly want to be alert to ask him a few of my own burning questions.

Yet again, I did my best to remain quiet as I maneuvered through the second floor of the house and descended down the staircase to the first. No one else was awake with the exception of us and the dogs, who were all highly alert and within close proximity to me.

“I thought you’d come down sooner.” He was in the silver reflective goose coat that he greeted me in last night and I’m even more in love with it now. If I can’t find it to buy on my own, I’m going to plead with him for his because he’s probably never going to wear it again. I have some Maison Martin Margiela boots that would be perfect with it.

“I’m dragging. What’s that?”

“Your breakfast.” In one hand is what appears to be some kind of a green thick smoothie and in the other is a bag with God knows what in it. He hates coffee and the way it makes him feel, so the smoothie makes sense.

“Thank you, babe.”

“Uhm. You coming back here when you get off?” With every inch we moved closer to the door, his four-legged protectors were right along with us.

“After I drop by my mom’s.”

“Okay.”

The awaiting SUV completely caught me off guard because I hadn’t requested a driver. Should I have? Absolutely, because I don’t feel like driving, but did I? Nope. I didn’t do a lot of things that I should have done this week. This is why I need to spend my weekend in the bed.

“You called?”

“You’re tired.”

His simple explanation made more sense than anything that I can think of.

“While you’re at work, think about coming to Louisiana with me.” He held my things while I slid into the backseat. Louisiana?

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No.”

“What’s in Louisiana?”

“Home.” I already knew the answer and yet I asked.

“I’ll consider it.”

“That’s all I ask. Gimmie them lips.” There was no hesitation. If anything, it was lingering and nearly enough to make me truant on ESPN.

“I’ll be watching.”

“Thank you. See you later.” I snuck another taste of his lips for a good day and closed the door on my own.

I prepared to nearly gag at the green concoction he blended together for me, but ended up pleasantly surprised at its appeasing taste. Though it was kale, the medley of pineapple, mango, and banana served as a balance. Inside of the bag? Chobani yogurt, crackers, and Sargento string cheese. He remembered my odd choices for a favorite snack. I never remember to put together any of that stuff the night before or right before I’m leaving out for work. I don’t even need to stop for a crappy sandwich at Dunkin Donuts now. I owe him, because this is perfect.

“Any requests for the radio ma’am or should I turn the Bluetooth on?”

“Bluetooth, please.”

I let my Stevie Wonder playlist on Apple Music do its thing. “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” instantly began my usual solo backseat party. Usually it happens on a Friday as I’m on my way home from work, but on this particular Friday, I’ll be partying both ways.

Louisiana sounds like a nice trip.

#fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #odell beckham jr fanfic #odell beckham fanfic

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uas-fics · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2 of The One That Almost Got Away--But Came Back

Chapter 1 -

~~~~

Mr. Garrison looked down at his clipboard then began calling out names. After each name came a ‘here’ before the teacher assigned every student a partner. Everyone chatted between themselves as the fourth graders prepared for a Box Top reward field trip to Stark’s Pond.

When it came to numbers, Tweek had been one of the higher contributors to their class Box Top total. Plenty of the boxes and mixes at the shop had Box Tops on them, and his parents agreed to let him cut the tops out if he also broke down the boxes for recycling.

Finally, Mr. Garrison clapped his hands and announced everyone had to hold their partner’s hand on the walk there.

“You’re responsible for your buddy. Don’t mess it up,” Mr. Garrison reminded.

Token bumped Tweek with his elbow then held out his hand. As they walked down the sidewalk, Token chatted with Craig and Clyde in front of him. Tweek nodded and added his two cents once or twice, but remained quiet otherwise. Waiting at the crosswalk, Tweek looked at Token while he chatted.

He’d never noticed before how nice Token’s profile was. No wonder all the girls fawned over him. He was rich, had nice features, good hair, shiny teeth, and his hand was so soft and—

Tweek nearly stumbled but caught himself before anyone took much notice.

Token was holding his hand, his sweaty, dirty hand.

When was the last time Tweek washed it? Before or after recess? Could Token feel all the callouses he had from sweeping and mopping the shop? Of course, he had to! Token’s hand was so soft!

“Tweek?” Craig said. “Tweek?” He repeated loud enough to jerk Tweek’s attention from Token and his hand to the pair in front of them.

Huh?” Tweek asked, a twitch coming over him.

“Dude, are you ok? You look really red,” Craig told him.

“I’m, I’m...” Tweek looked once at Token, who wore a concerned expression. “I’m not feeling well.” With that, he let go of Token’s hand, turned towards the road and vomited.

~~~~~~

The lights in the nurse’s office buzzed as Tweek laid on the hard cot. His embarrassment made him pull the thin blanket over his head and wish he was dead.

The moment Clyde shouted, “Mr. Garrison! Tweek puked!”, all eyes turned towards Tweek, on his hands and knees, a small pool of stomach acid and ground up carrot sticks in front of him. The attention made him throw up the rest of his lunch.

Now the whole class thought he was gross.

Not to mention his parents would give him a lecture for getting sick and making one of them leave the shop.

The door open, and Tweek snapped his eyes shut.

“Just take a seat, sweetie. I’ll be back in just a second.” The nurse said. Someone walked and took the seat across the room and the door closed.

Tweak heard sniffing and dared to peek open his eyes.

Karen McCormick had a large scrape along her forearm and a bruise on her cheek. She held an ice pack to her face. Tears ran down her face. She didn't look happy, but this wasn't how she normally looked.

Kenny probably wouldn’t be happy if Tweek told him that Karen looked fine enough. Clearly, Kenny cared about his sister a lot. He deserved to know how she really was.

“Karen?” Tweek whispered.

She jumped and looked at him. “Oh, you’re one of Kenny’s friends.” She chewed her lip. “Kyle?”

“I’m Tweek,” Tweek corrected. “What happened?” He nodded at the ice pack.

Karen sniffled. “I got hit with a tether ball and fell on the blacktop.”

“Wow, that must have hurt. I’m sorry, but the nurse will have you fixed up in a jiffy.”

“I know. What about you? Why are you here?”

Tweak didn't particularly want to explain why he vomited or that the whole class staring made him do it twice, so instead, he explained he didn't feel well.

“A bell ache.” Tweek lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“I hope you feel better.” Karen grinned crookedly, showing all her front teeth, including the two missing ones.

“You and Kenny have the same smile, ” Tweek replied in awe. He blushed then stammered, “sh-shit! I am so sorry! I didn't mean to—”

Karen shook her head. She lowered her icepack, revealing a black eye. With her free hand, she wiped her eyes on her wrist.

“Mommy said that too.” Karen put the icepack on her cheek.

“You must miss him a lot, don't you?”

“Yeah, but it's ok. Daddy says Kenny's up in Heaven, and I'll get to see him again when I'm an old granny,” She reassured. “Until then, he would want me to work hard and be happy! That's what Mommy said, too.”

“Your mom is right. He does--would. He would if he were still around, I mean.” Tweek caught himself from spilling his secret.

Karen smiled wryly. “Do you think God would let Kenny come visit tomorrow? Mom is making his favorite type of cake for his birthday. It would make her really happy if he came to eat with us.”

Tweak blinked. Kenny's birthday was tomorrow? He hadn’t known. Kenny didn’t mention it.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure God would be cool with that,” Tweek replied. “But I think angels are supposed to stay invisible on Earth, so you might not see him when he joins you.”

Karen’s eyes widen. They weren’t the same shade of blue as Kenny’s, but a warm brown. However, much like her smile, she shared the look in them with her brother. They held the same wonder that Kenny’s did. No doubt they were siblings.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the nurse came in then. Her expression was tired. After quickly doctoring Karen's arm, she shooed her off back to class with a new ice pack.

As she dug through a tub of clothes in the corner, she said to Tweek, “Tweek, dear, your mother is nearly here, you can go sit in the office with your bag.”

Tweak did as he was told.

In the office, he found Kyle, Jason White, and Jimmy Valmer sitting in front of Principal Victoria.

Each of them was dirty and soaking wet. Jason and Kyle looked annoyed and cold. Jason’s nose bleed and Kyle had a black eye to rival Karen's blooming over his right eye. Jimmy looked like the cat that ate the canary, despite his busted lip. One of his crunches had a slight bend to it and the other was caked with mud.

“I can’t believe you three jumped in Stark’s Pond on a dare, then starting a fight! I expect better from you three.” Principal Victoria sounded exasperated.

Jason wrang out his shirt over the trash as Kyle dropped his wet hat to his lap with a plop. Jimmy just beamed.

“We didn't jump in! Jimmy pushed us off the dock on a dare then jumped in himself,” Jason corrected with a glare.

“Mr. Garrison never sa- never sai- s-s-s—didn’t tell us we couldn’t jump in the pond,” Jimmy remark coyly, as though he just found the perfect loophole.

“You all could have frozen,” Principal Victoria chided.

“It’s March,” Jimmy told her. “You can’t freeze in M-March.”

“Maybe not in your old school, but you can here,” she stated. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Principal Victoria ordered all three of them into her office to discuss the apparent fight.

As they ushered in, Jimmy caught sight of Tweek. He gave a friendly wave, that Tweek slowly returned.

“Feel better,” Jimmy mouthed to him.

Jimmy was so cool, Tweek thought. He was funny and smart, even if his lazy eye sometimes made Tweek feel like he was watching him when he wasn’t. The same wave of nausea that hit him when he was admiring Token came over him.as

Luckily this time, he was able to settle his stomach as he waited, head down, for his mom to come to take him home.

~~~~~

There was a funeral on Wednesday, so Tweek found Kenny just at the edge of his range, floating high up, trying to get a good view.

For whatever reason, Kenny could only go about ten feet in any direction from his grave before hitting a wall. The first time Kenny explained this in full, he demonstrated by pretending to be a mime stuck in a box. He even ‘picked’ an imaginary flower, smelled it, then offered it to Tweek.

As Tweek pretended to sniff the flower, Kenny impishly asked, “did you know flowers are a plant's junk?” causing Tweak to toss the flower to the ground with a blush.

Tweek watched Kenny for a moment from the tree. The funeral goers were slowly and tearfully clearing out back to their cars. It would be safe to venture over without anyone thinking too much of it.

Finally, Tweek cleared his throat.

Kenny twisted around.

“Dude, what are you doing here? You have work, right?” He asked, floating back to the ground.

Tweek beamed. “I barfed at school yesterday, and Dad won't make me work if I got sick the day before.”

He spun his backpack around to the front with an excited grin.

“Besides, I saw Karen in the nurse's office yesterday.”

Kenny came even closer, nearly invading his personal space. He bounced on his toes.

“How is she? Does she look ok?”

“She got hit with a tether ball and fell, but I think she is doing good otherwise. She misses you, and says your parents miss you, too, but she looked happy,” Tweek told him. He smiled sheepishly as he unzipped his bag. "She also told me today was your birthday."

Kenny blinked a few times then look to his feet with his brows furrowed. Muttering silently, he counted on his finger before his head shot up,

"Holy shit! Today's my birthday!" He exclaimed.

"Yeah! And I brought you a gift." Tweek's hands shook as he pulled out the brown paper Tweak Bro's bag with Kenny's gift.

Kenny's expression fell. He took a few steps back to sit on top of his grave.

"Tweek, I appreciate the thought, but I am not really..." he gestured down, "material enough for gifts anymore."

"This isn't material." Tweek set his bag aside then dropped down to his knees next to Kenny's grave. He patted the spot next to him.

With his eyebrows raised in curiosity, Kenny floated down, sitting cross-legged. If he had been alive, Tweek would have felt his body heat. Now he just felt cold.

"What'd ya get me?" Kenny asked.

Tweek unfolded the top of the bag. With an air of pride, he took out a thick magazine with a grey scale picture of a person with half their face covered by a purple crystal on the front.

"'The Free Artist'?" Kenny read the flowing script title. "Um, thanks. Fine art is really...cool."

"No, I mean, yeah, sometimes it is, but that's not what this is about." Tweek started to flip through the pages. "My dad got a subscription to this magazine so we could have it sitting around at Tweak Bros to make the place seem refined."

"Ok?" Kenny turned his head to the side.

"We keep this one issues at home because of this." Tweek turned the magazine towards Kenny.

Across the center page was a black and white photo of a woman, her leg bent forward, spine arched, and head thrown back. Her naked breasts pointed up as she held the only splash of color in the photo, a bright red apple, aloft.

"Wooow!" Kenny reached for the magazine only for his hands to phase through.

"I thought I could turn the pages while you looked. Almost the whole issue is dedicated to this photographer. It's full of pictures of naked people in different poses. I thought, knowing what I know about you, that you’d like it?"

He chewed his lip. A fancy-schmancy art magazine wasn’t the same as a naughty one, but Tweek couldn’t get his hands on any of those. This was the best he had, even if the photos were not meant to be sexual or erotic. 'A grand showing of the beauty of the human form' is what the photographer claimed in the short article, but Kenny didn't seem to care what the point of the art was.

“This is so cool, dude!” Kenny beamed. “You brought a whole magazine of elegant nudes, just for me? Finally, I can truly appreciate the human body like the true connoisseur I am, artfully and with highbrow intelligence.”

Chuckling that Kenny pronounced it ‘conn-o-sire’, Tweek flipped to the next page. This one had a man on his knees, bending forward so his shoulders nearly touched the floor. The color in this picture was a vase of flowers set by his hips. Tweek thought he looked nice, for a grown-up, and suddenly his stomach twisted.

He quickly turned the page. The new two pages were a spread of different gender models.

Tweek hoped Kenny hadn't noticed. but by the look he gave him, Tweek knew he had.

"Everything alright?" Kenny asked.

With a sigh, Tweek shut the magazine and slumped in in himself.

"Can you keep a secret? One you can't ever tell anyone, not even other ghosts." Tweek didn't look up at him.

"There is no one around for me to tell, Tweek," Kenny pointed out. When Tweek didn't respond, he went on, "Ok, ok, I promise. I won't tell a soul your secret." A pause then,"In fact, I will tell you one of my secrets in exchange. How's about that?"

Tweek chewed the inside of his cheek before nodding.

"Alright, deal," Tweek replied. He took a breath, held it, then let it out slowly. "My secret is I...I, um...I don't like girls."

Kenny blinked once. "Don't like girls? I always thought the girls and you got along well enou..Ooooooh." Kenny whistled a breath through the gap in his teeth. "You're gay, Tweek?"

Tweek flinched. He'd never described himself as that once, even if it was true. It was a strange unspoken vow he'd made with himself. If he never said it out loud then he wasn't. There was still a chance he was straight.

But there it was, hanging in the air between the boys.

"Yeah, I guess," Tweek finally whispered. "Please don't make fun of me. I can’t help it."

"Why the hell would I make fun of you? Being gay is fine by me." Kenny crossed his arms, looking up at the clouds. "It doesn't matter if you like dick or pussy...or both."

His mouth twitched and his face contorted for a second into an expression that Tweek couldn't read.

Even if Tweek could have understand it, he wouldn't have dwelled. A weight he hadn't realized was on his shoulders lifted and he felt so much better. His stomach settled and some of his background anxiety quieted.

"You don't think it's weird?" Tweek wanted to confirm.

"Nah, it ain't weird." Kenny leaned back against his headstone. "But now I want to know if your crushing on anyone in our class. If I was to date a guy, I'd date Token. Not bad looking and rich as hell. A perfect boyfriend." Kenny jokingly snapped his fingers for emphasis, making Tweek snicker.

"Yes, definitely Token!" Tweek agreed.

They spent the rest of their time just chatting like normal, but now Tweek felt more comfortable than ever.

The conversation started to wind down after Tweek explained his list of boys he had something of a crush on, or, at least, wouldn’t be against asking if he knew they’d like him back.

Currently, Jimmy held top spot, because if they dated, no one would dare make fun of them. Jimmy was much too popular and well-liked to be made fun of by anyone in the class. Everyone else would turn on that person in an instant. Then Token, for much the same reason, along with how much Tweek liked his profile. Then at a distant third, Craig since Tweek like how much he spoke his mind.

"You know," Tweek flipped the magazine page for Kenny to admire the next picture, this one a woman curled up on herself and staring at the camera with determination as a fat, green, frog sat idly on her knee, "you never told me your secret."

"It's not nearly as good as yours," Kenny told him as he read the article that accompanied the photo.

"I still want to know. It's only fair."

Kenny opened his mouth to speak when a new voice cut him off.

"See? I told you! That chubby fourth-y is here! I saw him when I was at the funeral."

Tweek felt his heart fall dead out of his chest and land in his lap as three sixth graders came strutting up. Tweek didn't know them well enough to pull their names out from his memory, but he did know they were bullies who loved to pick on younger kids.

"Whatcha doing here, fourth-y? Reading like a nerd?" The biggest one sneered at the magazine.

The skinniest one raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to get a better look at the open pages.

"Hey! She's naked!" He pointed. "It’s a pornmag! Fourth-y’s got a pornmag!"

Tweek scooped up the magazine and held it to his chest, eyes wide. Kenny glared at the sixth graders and told them to fuck off, even though they couldn’t hear him.

"It's not porn. It's tasteful." Tweek dug his nails into the flesh of his other wrist, trying not to shake.

"It has naked ladies. It's porn." The middle one declared, reaching for it with grabby hands. "Let us have it. Your fourth-y brain isn’t mature enough to handle boobs."

"N-no! Urk! It's not yours. Leave me alone!" Tweek felt his flight or fight response start to pour adrenaline into his system. He probably couldn't fight three sixth graders, but he was sure he could outrun them.

Before he could make his grand escape, the biggest one dove forward for the magazine.

Tweek stumbled back as the issue was ripped from him. His heel hit the base of a nearby gravestone then he toppled over it. Mud and dirty snow covered his back and soaked straight through his shirt.

When his breath returned and he could finally push himself up, he saw the sixth graders gawking over the magazine. The cover was torn and barely held together by an inch of glossy, crumpled paper.

Then he tilted his head up and saw Kenny behind them.

Kenny’s teeth ground together. His hands clenched into fists. His nostrils flared. A low growl came from his throat. Tweek had never seen Kenny this upset, even in life. If he was tangible, Tweek thought Kenny would rip the sixth graders’ hearts out.

Something that Tweek couldn’t understand tore from Kenny’s throat as he reached forward with his arms out in front of him, as if he was going to push the middle sixth grader. The moment his hands phased through his chest, the sixth grader bolted up straight. His eyes were wide with terror.

His breath came out in a thick, shaking cloud, different from everyone else's, thicker and flecked with ice particles.

“Dude?” The biggest one asked, prodding his friend in the side.

His friend didn’t move, only whimpered, “I...I...I...”

Before the sixth graders could do anything more, a familiar voice boomed towards them.

“Hey! What are you kids doing over there?” Father Maxie shouted.

“Fuck! Run!” The skinny sixth-grader grabbed the middle one’s arm. The middle sixth-grader moved like a statue that had just come to life, stiffly and clumsily. After shoving the magazine into his jacket, the biggest one pushed the middle. All at once, the middle unfroze.

He sucked in a gasp as Father Maxie yelled again. It took a second for him to register where he was, but when he did, he darted faster than the rest out of the graveyard.

Tweek stared at Kenny with his mouth agape. Kenny looked down at his hands, brows furrowed and lips pressed together. He looked up at Tweek, confusion written across his face.

“I...guess that worked?” Kenny laughed nervously, shoving his hands in his parka pockets.

“What in the Great Heavens above is going on up here?” Father Maxie ran up with his lips set in a frown.

Tweek tried to sit up, only to bite back a yelp of pain. He pressed a hand to his lower back, whimpering.

Father Maxie instantly stooped down to look him over. He peeled the wet shirt away from Tweek’s chilled skin to reveal the starting of a bruise.

“Oh, dear!” Father Maxie shook his head. “Come along. Let’s get some ice on that and call your parents.”

As Tweek left, he looked over at Kenny, who waved at him with a faint smile on his transparent lips, and Tweek’s stomach did a now familiar twist.

~~~~~

Tweek held a CapriSuns, both cold and fruit punch-flavored, in each of his hands. One he had tilted towards his face to sip and the other he carefully pressed against his back.

One of the nuns that Tweek recognized from Sunday school fretted over him, asking him over and over if he was really ok, if he knew who those boys that hurt him were, and if there was anything she could do to make him feel better.

Tweek repeatedly answered yes, he was ok and, no, he did not know those boys’ names, just that they were sixth graders. For her last question, the first time she asked, he told her he would like another juice to drink, the second time he timidly asked, “Do you know if I’m going to be in--urk--trouble?”

The nun smiled softly and stroked his head. “No, I do not believe you will.”

Feeling a sense of mild relief, Tweek started to ask for another juice, when Father Maxie came into the sanctuary. With a nod to the nun, he dismissed her then took a seat next to Tweek on the pew.

He put a hand on Tweek’s shoulder. “Hello, my child, are you feeling better now?”

“I think so,” Tweek replied honestly.

“Good, good,” Father Maxie said. He paused a moment and look at Tweek in a way that made his anxiety spike. It was the same look Father Maxie wore when he was going to ask the congregation a tough question that would make all the adults turn their gazes away in shame.

“Tweek, I’ve seen you go to the graveyard to sit by yourself quite often lately,” Father Maxie continued. “Is everything alright, my child? Are you doing ok? I am always here if you need to talk. You know that The Lord has many, many great plans for you in your future, don’t you?”

He gave Tweek a look so sympathetic, it boarded on pity. Tweek didn’t like that. He didn’t need a priest of all people giving him pity for being a freak and a weirdo!

Tweek scooted away and fixed his gaze on the stain glass window over the pulpit.

“It’s quiet there, not like the coffee shop. I like things quiet to do my homework and think,” Tweek lied, somehow keeping his tone indifferent with only his usual quiver.

“Ah, I see.”

Tweek didn’t think Father Maxie saw anything, but Father Maxie let the conversation drop anyway and changed to asking Tweek about how school was and what they were teaching nowadays in fourth grade. Tweek replied with the bare minimum amount of words he could until his parents came to pick him up

Father Maxie took his parents aside to talk with them a moment, just out of Tweek’s earshot. Tweek could only assume Father Maxie knew the names of the sixth graders and was telling his parents so they could talk to their parents —- which would lead to Tweek having his head shoved in a urinal until the urinal cake went down his throat.

After thanking the priest and promising they would try to put a little more in the collection plate come Sunday--Tweek knew that was a lie--the Tweaks drove back home.

His mom heated up some leftover spaghetti from the night before and placed it and a big glass of milk in front of Tweek, patting between his shoulder blades. She pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re my good boy, Tweek. I love you.” She whispered to him, before giving him a half hug around the shoulders. After that, his parents let him eat in silence. Maybe they were scared if they spoke too loudly, Tweek would vomit again.

As he ate, he thought about what happened with Kenny at the graveyard today. He didn’t know what ghostly powers Kenny used to fight back against the sixth graders, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that Kenny had used them for him. He cared about Tweek so much Kenny risked sixth graders to help him!

Ghost or not, Tweek thought Kenny was the coolest person ever.

Tweek swallowed the last fork full of noodles, then chugged the rest of his milk. Before he could ask to be excused, his dad leaned across the table and set a large, warm hand over Tweek’s.

“Tweek, son, can we have a word?” He asked as if Tweek had a choice but to stay put.

“Um, yeah, Dad?” Now Tweek started to nervously fidget with his fork.

“Father Maxie told us you’ve been spending a lot of time at the graveyard recently,” his dad started. “Why is that? Are you feeling alright? No one is bullying you at school? Are you happy, son?”

Tweek’s head spun with explanations he could give that would convince his parents to drop the topic, or at least make sure they didn’t stop him from going anymore. He wasn’t hurting anyone, so there was no reason for them to stop him, but still, the tone in his dad’s voice was cautious and strained, though Tweek didn’t know why.

“I’m fine. No one is bullying me. I’m actually really happy.” Tweek replied, but his parents didn’t look convinced. What could Tweek possibly say to pacify them without explaining everything?

Think, Tweek! Think!

Then Tweek had a terrible idea that he just knew would work.

~~~~~~

“You told your parents what?!” Kenny doubled over, holding his stomach. He wiped away a tear that wasn’t there. “Ok, ok, ok, let me get this straight. You told your parents you’re gay, and you wanted to ask me out when I was alive, and now you come to my grave to pretend to talk to me because you regret missing your chance?”

Tweek blushed. “It worked, didn’t it? Ack! I said what I had to. Mom and Dad were worried about me.” While fiddling to fix his shirt buttons, Tweek went on, “Honestly, I’m glad I said it though, even if it was mostly a lie. It’s weird having my parents know I’m gay, but they took it well. I spend the rest of the evening listening to them make plans for a big Pride event at the shop when June rolls around.”

Tweek laughed at the memory, joining in with Kenny. His parents had all but forgotten about their own gay son as they starting trying to think of new Pride-themed items for the menu or how much banners and flags to hang outside the shop would cost.

The most acknowledgment Tweek got the rest of the evening was his dad giving him twenty dollars and saying he hoped Tweek would be confident enough to come out to the rest of the town soon--since that would be great for the business.

Tweek and Kenny finally sputtered out with Kenny shaking his head.

“You know Tweek, I’m flattered.” He gave a cheeky grin. “Flattered to be your first one that got away.” Kicking his legs out, Kenny nodded. “Actually, I think I’m regretful, too. If I knew you were this cool when I was alive, I don’t think I would have minded if you asked me on a date.”

Tweek snorted and rolled his eyes, but on the inside, his heart did a funny little skip. For a moment, he tried to chalk it up to his anxiety acting up, as it sometimes did, but he couldn't lie to himself for long.

In one fell swoop, Kenny had usurped Jimmy’s option at the top of Tweek’s list.

“Yeah...thank you.” Tweek pretended to flip through his history book. “Oh, um, my parents also said I’ll have to start going back to my therapist, too. This morning, at breakfast, Mom told me she scheduled me an appointment.”

“Oh?” Kenny titled his head. “I’m...sorry? Is a therapist like going to a normal doctor? I hated going to normal doctors.” His face twisted in disgust.

“No, this is a good thing!” Tweek smiled. “I liked my therapist. He was nice and helped a lot, but I guess he helped too much. Since after six sessions, my parents thought I had to be ‘cured’ and made me stop going.” A sigh and he went on, “So it’s good to go back, but that means I won’t be able to come here as often.”

Kenny frowned for a fraction of a second before his cheery disposition returned.

“That’s ok!” he told him. “If this doctor is helping you feel better, I would be a very bad friend to make you skip appointments to hang out with me.”

Tweek buried his reddening face in his book. “Kenny, you’re really cool.”

Kenny blinked at the unexpected compliment then looked away. Was he embarrassed? Hadn’t anyone ever told Kenny he was cool?

Tweek refused to believe that, but lowered his book and repeated himself, “You are really cool. Way cooler than any of those jack asses you hung around with.”

Kenny fingered the drawstrings of his parka then tugged them slightly, closing the hood tighter around his face.

“Thanks, dude,” he replied in a quiet voice, not quite looking at Tweek, but just over his shoulder. Tweek was glad for that. If Kenny had met his eyes, he might have died.

~~~~~~

“You need to make some more friends who want to have you around and can appreciate you for you” is what his therapist told Tweek after the second session.

He suggested that Tweek join a sport or club, but Tweek didn’t feel like he could do that. Sports were a commitment and he had his job and chores to deal with. Clubs were too much pressure to deal with too! They had hierarchies where he would be at the very bottom!

When Tweek mentioned his fears to Kenny, Kenny tapped his lower lip with his finger for a moment, then suggested, “Print out a picture offline of something you really like, and tape it to your binder. Maybe someone else who likes it will try to talk to you.”

Tweek wasn't sure about that but decided to give it a try. He used a text document and made a collage of his favorite superhero, Sailor Moon, printed it, and put it in the plastic covering of his homework binder. While he walked in the halls, he made sure to have the binder facing out so other people could see it.

Unsurprisingly, Kenny’s idea worked.

At first, it was the girls who flocked around him. Some knew who Sailor Moon was, and some just thought she looked cool, but either way, Tweek happily accepted the invites to sit down with them and talk.

He even gathered the courage to ask some of them to come to watch some episodes using Tweak Bro’s wifi after school on days it was too rainy or cold to go see Kenny.

Then, about a week later, while Tweek was searching for one of his pencils in his messy locker, Craig tapped on his shoulder.

“Hey, Tweek.” He waved, then pointed to Tweek’s binder. “Do you like anime?”

Tweek looked down at the moon princess then nodded warily. Was Craig going to pick on him for it? Some sixth graders had teased him for liking a ‘weird, girly, Japanese cartoon’ before, luckily for Tweek, Bebe was there and politely told the sixth graders that Sailor Moon was the best and strongest hero ever, better than Superman even, and they should leave Tweek alone.

Of course, the sixth graders didn’t leave Tweek alone, but he still really appreciated that someone stuck up for him.

Craig hummed. “Just Sailor Moon? Or do you like others? Like Red Racer?”

This felt like a test.

“Um, I think so? I’ve only seen a few episodes, but I think it’s really cool! I like the tiny elephant sidekick,” Tweek replied honestly.

Craig regarded Tweek once more before he asked, “The new movie comes out on Saturday. Me and my friends are going to watch the newest season before we go. We’re starting after school tomorrow and having a sleepover on Friday. You can join us if you want.”

~~~~~

Tweek had never been so excited when he rushed to the graveyard to tell Kenny his news after school.

“You said yes, right?” Kenny bounced in shared excitement.

“Yeah! I mean, I need to ask my parents, but I don’t think they’ll say no.” Tweek chuckled to himself before spin round before falling back into the snow. He winced. His bruise had mostly healed, but the fall still hurt.

“So, I won’t see you until next week?” Kenny asked, poorly hiding the disappointment in his voice.

Tweek pushed himself up on his elbows. “I guess not. I’m sorry. Should I cancel one of the days?”

Shaking his head, Kenny declined, “No, don’t do that. Have fun and...” he flashed a wicked smile, “don’t puke lunch on Token’s expensive shoes or Jimmy’s crutches.”

Tweek wanted to tell Kenny that for the last month or so, he hadn’t felt sick around either Token or Jimmy since Kenny had taken over the top spots of his list.

Of course, he didn’t dare say a word of that.

~~~~

Red Racer was a pretty good anime. Tweek liked the races and the cool mech transformations. The plot was a little confusing since he started three seasons in, but Craig and his friends were happy to explain the parts that confused Tweek as they lounged around the Tucker’s living room.

By Friday, Tweek more or less understood the plot, the character’s motivations, and was excited about the movie.

Clyde picked up a popcorn kernel from the bottom of the now empty bowl and threw it at Token’s head. It ricocheted off his temple and landed square on Craig’s pizza slice. Craig reached over and push Clyde clean off the couch and right onto Tweek.

Tweek gasped and struggled to sit up, but Clyde was like a heavy, limp doll on his chest. Finally, Jimmy grabbed Clyde’s arm and hauled him off.

“S-shit, dude!” Tweek gasped, hand to his chest. “I thought I was going to die!”

“Nice going, Clyde.” Token took the throw pillow from his side and pushed it down on Clyde’s head. “Trying to kill Tweek. Are you scared we’ll kick you out for him?”

“No!” Clyde shoved the pillow away. “I’m way cooler than Tweek.”

Craig snorted. “Uh-huh. Sure. ‘Cooler’. I don’t think you can beat Tweek’s ‘hangs out in a graveyard’ level of cool.”

Tweek flinched back. Craig knew about that?

“Oh yeah! I head the s-s-s-sixth graders talking about that during recess,” Jimmy said around a bite of pizza. “Why do you do that, Tweek?”

“I, um, I, u-uh...” Tweek’s brain spun for a lie.

All of the boys' eyes were on him now. None of them looked malicious, but how did Tweek know they weren’t hiding it? How did he know that they weren’t doing this Red Racer marathon just to get dirt on him?

He swallowed. He couldn’t tell the others everything he told his parents, but he could strip it down a little.

“Do you guys remember Kenny McCormick?”

Craig nodded solemnly. “Yeah. He was a nice guy, even if he hung out with assholes.”

“Well, his grave is in there, and I feel bad that he died when he was so young. Urk! I guess I also regret that I didn’t know him all that well before he got sick. Especially since I replaced him with his own friends. Going there and sitting near by his grave, I feel connected to what could have been, if we were friends, you know?” Tweek chewed his lip.

Would they believe that? Would they call him a weirdo and make him walk home?

Jimmy reached over and set a greasy hand on Tweek’s shoulder with a nod. “I think we all miss him. I’m sure, up in H-Hea-Heaven, Kenny appreciates you coming to visit.”

Even without speaking to each other, the rest of the boys shared Jimmy’s sentiment. Tweek let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when Token suddenly pointed at the TV.

“Hey! This is my favorite episode! This is the one with Purple Racer and the Power Stone! Everyone shut up!” He waved his hand at them all, leaning forward with his chin in his palm.

At that, the topic was dropped.

~~~~~~

On Saturday evening, Tweek was on cloud nine as he headed towards the graveyard.

The movie was so good! He had to tell Kenny all about it. Kenny wouldn’t mind spoilers, would he? Even if he did, Kenny had to hear about everything that happened with Craig and his friends.

Token had actually invited Tweek over to play basketball at his house with him and Clyde on Wednesday! Jimmy even wanted to try out some jokes on Tweek before his next show.

Kenny would be so proud that Tweek was making other friends; he was certain he would be!

As he neared, the sound of sobbing came to his ears.

Kenny sat on his headstone, knees pulled up to his chest, as he cried into his hands.

“Kenny?” Tweek raised his hand before dropping it. “What’s wrong?”

Kenny’s head shot up. His lips quivered as he stared at Tweek for an uncomfortably long time.

“What’s the matter?” Tweek tried again. “Are you alright?”

“No! I’m not alright,” Kenny wailed, hiding his face in his hands again. “It’s not fair! God’s being mean to me again!”

“What?”

Kenny slowly lowered himself off the headstone, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm even though he didn’t have any tears. “Tweek, do you remember a month or two ago, when you told me you were gay? I never told you my secret.”

Tweek had completely forgotten about that. Kenny said it wasn’t as good as Tweek’s secret, but whatever it was, it was important enough to make him cry.

“What’s your secret?”

Kenny shuffled side to side a moment before sighing. He gestured to his headstone. “Read it and tell me what’s wrong with it.”

Tweek furrowed his brow as he realized he’d never once read Kenny’s headstone in full. At most, he had only read Kenny’s name when he bonked his head against it. Every other time, Kenny either sat right in front of his stone or let his legs cover it.

Stooping down, Tweek ran his fingers along the carved letters as he read.

“‘Kenneth ‘Kenny’ McCormick, rest well sweet angel in the arms of God, Free of pain and sickness. March twenty-second to J...’” Tweek trailed off. He looked up at Kenny with a frown. “‘June eight.’ Kenny, why does it say you died in June? And the year is from nearly seven years ago!”

“You think you're a weirdo and a freak, Tweek? You’re as average as white bread compared to me.” Kenny laughed, dry and bitterly. “That’s my secret, Tweek: I can’t stay dead. I don’t know why or how to stop it. I’ve never stayed dead, not any of the tens of times I’ve died before.”

A new batch of sobs escaped his throat. “I thought for sure it would stick this time, Tweek. It hurt so much more to die than ever before. It felt different. I wanted it to be different. I didn’t want to come back.”

Tweek scrambled to his feet. “That’s impossible. If you died before, I know I would remember it.”

“No, you wouldn’t. No one does. That’s what makes it so hard.” Kenny sniffled. “I die, I come back, and everyone acts as if I just ran away or was kicked out or whatever. I fucking hate it! I’m just the poor, dirty kid who can’t stay dead. I’m the freak, Tweek. I’m the weirdo. You’re just a kid with a tic. A normal kid.”

“Kenny...” Tweek wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’m going to come back to life soon. I can feel it. I’m going to come back and...and—and you won’t remember all the time we have together,” Kenny cried. “I want you to remember. It’s not fair I’m going to lose you like this! Not when I just...” His sobs overtook anything else he had to say.

Tweek took a step forward when he noticed that Kenny’s feet had disappeared. His legs were already fading away when Tweek stomped his foot to gain Kenny’s attention.

“I won’t forget! I promise I won’t!” Tweek announced. “We’ll hang out at Tweak Bros and go play basketball with Token and sing silly German songs and everything! I swear I won’t forget!”

“I’d like that, but,” Kenny’s stomach disappeared as Kenny forced a smile, “yes, you will. Everyone does.”

“I won’t,” Tweek repeated, his voice shaking with his own sobs. “I can’t forget everything you’ve done to help me. I’ll remember, Kenny. I will.”

Now his shoulders were gone.

Kenny chuckled with a shake of the head. “I really hope you do.”

“I won’t let you really be the one that got away! I won’t!” Tweek exclaimed, his vision blurred, but by the time he took a shaking step forward, the ghost of Kenny McCormick was gone.

~~~~~~

Kenny felt like shit. Normally he felt bad after coming back from the dead, all tired and cold with his limbs aching, but today was worse. Today he felt tired, cold, and achy along with a heavy dread that clung to his heart.

He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to go out and find his friends at the park or even pull the covers off of his living body. He wanted to stay and melt into the torn mattress and stop existing. The only reason he got up was when he heard a small gasp from the door and say Karen staring at him.

For a moment, he’d hoped that maybe she was surprised to see him alive and his curse was broken.

But instead the shock faded quickly from her eyes and she told Kenny it was time for breakfast.

His mom hugged him when he came into the living room. She squeezed him so tight, it hurt to breathe before placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Oh, Kenny, I love you so much. My precious, darlin’ little man.” His mom whispered into his hair. She still smelled like cigarettes and beer and the cheap perfume his dad bought for her on Mother’s Day every year.

Even in his bleak mindset, he had to admit he missed that smell.

“I, uh, I love you, too, Mom,” Kenny replied. It felt so strange to feel the vibration from his voice when he spoke.

“What are you doin’, woman?” His dad asked from the table. “Let the boy go. He ain’t dyin'.”

She reluctantly released him but patted Kenny’s head before standing up.

“Mommy, can I have a hug, too, please?” Karen asked, tugging at her shirt hem.

“Well, of course, you can, sweet pea.” Their mom stooped down to hug her and Kenny made a beeline for the table before he could be pulled into another hug.

His dad turned the page in his newspaper. “Sleep well, Kenny? You seemed sick yesterday. That cough and all.”

Could he have trouble breathing, if he didn’t have breath?

Kenny shrugged. Before he could answer, Kevin walked in. To Kenny’s surprise, he looked presentable, dressed up and cleaned. He even had his hair slicked back.

“The fuck you look so fancy for?” Kenny asked as Kevin slid into a chair.

Kevin looked at him, furrowing his brow, a moment, as if he were trying to figure out just what was wrong with his little brother, before shaking it off.

“It’s Sunday? Church? Did you cough your brains out last night, dingus?” Kevin rolled his eyes.

Karen picked up her faded plush doll and headed towards the table. “Kevin’s trying to get that pretty girl to hold hands with him, remember, Kenny? The one with the blond curls,” Karen held up her doll, nodding at the doll’s faded yellow hair, “who made Kevin blush last weekend?”

“I didn’t blush!” Kevin snapped, face red. “I ain’t dressed up for her either. I just...wanna look nice for church.” He didn’t look at Kenny or Karen as he said that. With a smile, their mom patted Kevin’s back

“Well, even if you ain't, I’m sure that girl will like you anyway,” Their mom told him as she set a plate of flat pancakes in front of him before moving to deliver the rest of the family breakfast.

“And if she don’t, just lay on that Old McCormick Charm,” their dad shut the newspaper. “Works on the ladies every time.” He patted their mom’s hip as she passed, and she giggled, kissing his temple.

Karen picked up her pancake with her fingers and began to pull it apart. “Is that how come I was able to make so many girl friends?”

Kenny smiled to himself, pleased that Tweek hadn’t been pulling his chain when he said Karen was happy. Actually, all his family seemed to be happy. His parents were getting along. Kevin was trying to get himself a girl. Karen had a bunch of friends.

Kenny hoped it would last now that he was back.

After their dad quickly ended the conversation about the Old McCormick Charm, the family ate breakfast, normal as Kenny could remember. He was gone for nearly half a year and no one remembered.

His stomach churned. Kenny pushed away his half-finished plate.

“Can I skip church today?” He asked, faking a cough into his fist. “I still feel a little bit sick.”

Admittedly, he didn’t want to go anywhere near the church. Months in that blasted graveyard, listening to the distant sermons or watching tear filled funerals were Father Maxie said the same words over and over to grieving families had worn him out on going to church for a while.

His mom reached over and touched his forehead. “Ya don’t feel hot, but since you were sick yesterday, I guess that’ll be alright. I’ll wrap up your plate. You can eat the rest later.”

Kenny nodded and pushed himself away from the table. After wishing Kevin good luck in getting his girl, Kenny lumbered back to his bed and flopped down. He curled into a ball and forced himself to sleep.

When he woke up, the house was quiet. Kenny looked around his room. His stuff had been moved around and there were several boxes labeled ‘clothes’ and ‘toys’ stacked in the corner. He knew he should probably get to unpacking those and setting his life back up, but Kenny suddenly felt claustrophobic and trapped in his house, in a room that hadn’t been his in months.

Throwing off the covers, Kenny shoved his shoes on his feet and hurried out the door to let his feet take him wherever they wanted to go.

~~~~~~

After twenty minutes of wandering, Kenny found himself standing outside of Tweak Bro’s. His stomach churned. Should he go in and see if Tweek remembered him? Did he even want to know? Maybe he should put it off until school Monday and go find Stan, Kyle, and Cartman.

Kenny shook himself.

No. If he didn’t do this now, it would eat at him all day.

With a shaking hand, he reached out and gave the door a firm tug.

It was locked.

Of course, Tweak Bro’s wasn’t open on Sundays.

Shaking his head, Kenny sat on the bench out front. A cold wind bit his exposed face and Kenny nearly yelped. It had been so long since he had felt the physical cold like that.

Kenny readjusted his hood. He didn’t want to head home. He didn’t want to talk to his friends.

He didn’t know what he wanted, so he sat and brooded on the bench for half an hour.

Several people passed, each giving him that same look Kevin did, trying to figure out what was wrong with him and why he looked so out of place. Each time he noticed someone staring, Kenny flipped them off and glared. He didn’t particularly want to be reminded of his status as a freak.

Finally, Kenny forced himself to his feet. His legs were asleep with pins and needles. The sensation was just as annoying as he remembered.

Telling himself to go home, Kenny shoved his hands deep in his parka and began towards his house. As he stopped at the crosswalk, the sound of hurried footsteps came from behind him. He turned around, ready to side step out of the way, just as someone tackled him to his bottom.

“Kenny! Kenny, you’re alive!” Tweek sobbed into Kenny’s shoulder. He squeezed him tighter. “I went to your grave after church and you weren’t there anymore! I thought I might have--errr!--dreamed the whole thing!”

Kenny blinked before turning his head to look at Tweek’s shock of blond hair.

“You remember? You remember me being a ghost?” Kenny whispered, afraid that if he spoke too loudly, this blessed illusion would break into a million pieces.

Tweek pulled back but kept his hands on Kenny’s shoulders. “Yes! I remember! I promised I wouldn’t forget, and I didn’t!” He grinned at him, and Kenny’s heart skipped a beat. A feeling that made his head rush from the experience of it.

Tears blurred Kenny’s vision. He couldn’t believe this. Someone remembered! Someone he really cared about remembered.

Kenny didn’t care how this happened: if this was God making up for the curse or Tweek hitting his head against his headstone did it. It didn’t matter. He’d never felt so elated in his life.

Kenny wrapped his arms around Tweek and hugged him so tightly, he was surprised he didn’t hear the cracking of bones.

Tweek remembered! Tweek, this boy who came and sat with him day after day for months just because Kenny asked him to; this sweet, kind-hearted boy that let Kenny help with his homework and shared the latest gossip and checked on Karen and brought him a present on his birthday; this boy that Kenny had slowly but surely developed quite the crush on, he remembered.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!” Kenny swallowed down the lump forming in his throat. “I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you, Tweek.”

“Well, you can not freak out when I, um, say what I have to say.” Tweek gently pushed Kenny away. He took a breath and continued, “Kenny, I have a confession. I promised God if I ever saw you alive again, I’d say this. I hope this won’t make anything weird. I, argh, I like you--like a lot, a lot. More than a friend.”

Kenny blinked. For a moment, he thought he was going to die from happiness after less than a day back.

“I like you, too--like a lot, a lot,” Kenny replied instantly, nearly stumbling over his words in his rush to say them.

Tweek’s face went beet red. He scrambled to his feet, wiping the dirt from his jeans, then held out his hand to Kenny. Kenny let himself be hauled up, but he wasn’t going to let go of Tweek’s hand.

No matter what happened, he wasn’t going to let himself be the one that got away ever again.

~~~

AN: Thank you all for all the support. This pair is has a fun dynamic to play with x3c

#south park #twenny #tweek tweak #kenny mccormick #multi-chapter

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vagrantblvrd · 5 years

Text

Skies So Blue (1/1)

Summary: There’s always a problem when it comes to the crew.

Always.

Said problems range from minor inconveniences like a diet eCola shortage in the penthouse to life-threatening injuries. (Sometimes one leads to the other because the ones with an addiction to the stuff are certifiable, but that’s another problem altogether.)

Notes: An Anon wanted my thoughts on this GTA V video. :D?

(Read on AO3)

There’s always a problem when it comes to the crew.

Always.

The current problem is that Geoff’s out of town for business and he took both Alfredo and Matt, arguably the last two sane members of the crew left besides Trevor himself. And while Trevor is in charge these days, you wouldn’t notice by the way they act.

(Geoff warned him though, when he and Lindsay handed the reins over. Told him all about how they were horrible human beings and, “God have mercy on your soul, because the bastard sure as hell had none for mine,” and left for what he insisted was a long overdue vacation from the crew. Lindsay had laughed as she patted him on the cheek with a “You poor, stupid bastard,” before going off to rain chaos on the unsuspecting now she was free to do so.)

Geoff is out of town, the crew treats Trevor like a substitute teacher in an 80s/early 90s movie, and to make matters worse? It’s been a while since the crew’s pulled a heist or a job that requires more than the bare minimum from them.

They’re bored.

They’re bored and Trevor’s learned that a bored Fake AH Crew is a dangerous Fake AH Crew because they make their own entertainment.

While some good things have come out of their shenanigans in the past – improved team morale for starters – said shenanigans also draw unwanted attention from local law enforcement that’s no good for future plans they may have.

So.

“You...want me to kidnap you.”

Trevor grins, nice and friendly and holds up the wad of cash he’s offering as payment to a fine young gentleman.

New enough to Los Santos that he hasn’t heard (too much) about the Fakes aside from a few key points. (Big crew, don’t fuck with them or you’ll be sorry, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah.)

Hasn’t heard about their more outrageous exploits or what they like to do to blow off steam for their own enrichment. (Pack of idiots rolling a pumpkin around their enclosure and all.)

Most importantly, he’s just stupid enough, greedy enough, to be blinded to the amount of money Trevor’s offering for an afternoon of driving him around.

“Well I mean,” Trevor says, goes a little singsong. “’Kidnap’ is such an ugly word, you know. All these connotations to it. No, no.”

Goodness no.

“I want you to steal a car for me.”

The guy – Frank? Jimmy? Trevor doesn't remember, and if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t care.

See, Trevor asked around, got a short list of potential candidates for this little task that might need a reminder of how things work in Los Santos. A quick little tutorial for the ones new to town like this fine fellow who’s already ruffled a few feathers.

“...The car you will be in,” Lyle? Kyle? says, nice and slow, like he’s solving one of the world’s greatest mysteries. “That one.”

Trevor tips his head to the side.

“If you don’t want to earn some pocket money, I can always find someone else who will,” Trevor says.

Because Los Santos.

Chock full of people like this one.

The guy squints at Trevor.

Big guy. Somewhat imposing, if you happen to be easily imposed. Nose that’s been broken at least once and rough around the edges (aren’t they all, though?). Scruff going on to make him seem older and admirably suspicious because it is an odd request.

“What’s the catch?”

Trevor doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does.

“Oh, you know,” he says, big, big smile. “The usual.”

========

Gerald, Trevor’s going to call him Gerald, takes the offer.

“Sure, why the fuck not?”

It’s a lot of money just to steal a car, and Trevor was reliably informed Gerald would do just about anything for the right price.

Sold a lot of people out for less, or so Trevor’s heard. Has a habit of screwing over his partners and so on and Trevor is delighted the man’s greed has gotten the better of him yet once again. Makes having to send one of the others to pay him a little visit unnecessary later.

Birds and stones, and a delicious touch of karma because some of the people Gerald’s fucked over were theirs and that simply won’t do.

Gerald doesn’t seem to have caught on just yet, but Trevor’s sure he’ll figure it out along the way.

========

There are rules to this, of course.

The others may use any and all vehicles at their disposal, but weapons aren’t allowed.

If, for example, one of them were to get their hands on a Lazer from Zancudo, they’re not allowed to use missiles (homing or otherwise) or the cannons. (If they get their hands on tank, just. No.)

Gerald is likewise forbidden from using weapons. In case he were to get ideas, what with Trevor riding along in the backseat of their vehicle and all. (Trevor’s wearing his favorite clothes and would just hate to get blood on them.)

Other than that, it’s a free-for-all, which in Trevor’s experience always goes smoothly with this bunch.

========

“Oh, my,” Trevor says, watching a Cargobob overshoot them. “That was a close one, wasn’t it.”

Gerald swears, anger and something like panic creeping into his voice and for good reason. The crew is out in force today, Cargobobs overhead and stolen police cars behind. A generous smattering of other stolen vehicles all over the place and they’ve only been at this for twenty, thirty minutes at the outside.

Very dramatic, all of it.

Pulse-pounding adventure and danger. High-speed chases and the car’s engine is making this distressing noise, smoke coming from its engine.

Trevor waves as an SUV goes screaming past, and snaps a picture with his phone – it’s bound to turn out blurry and out of focus, but he’s sure Jeremy will appreciate the thought behind it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” Gerald demands as he puts their poor car in reverse, aiming for a side street they passed. “I mean, seriously. What the fuck?”

Trevor grins and takes a picture of Gerald as he scowls at Trevor in the rearview.

For memories.

“Creative types,” he says, which isn’t stretching the truth at all. The others come up with the most...inventive heists and all sorts of shenanigans. “Wacky.”

========

After the Tank incident several years back, about the time Trevor got dragged into the madness that is the Fake AH Crew, they’re forbidden from bringing a tank into the city.

APCs and the like, however, are not tanks.

“Holy shit,” Gerald whispers, the very image of a broken man. “Holy shit.”

Trevor hmms, and checks to make sure his seat-belt is secure.

“Indeed,” he agrees, and it’s such a shame he ran out of physical room on his phone for videos because their tiny little car facing a line of Brickades is a stunning sight.

Gerald makes this noise in the back of his throat, and Trevor can see the moment he throws all caution to the wind and has his fuck it, what the fuck moment as he puts his foot to the pedal and they shoot forward.

While there are several Brickades present, there aren’t enough to create an effective blockade. More to intimidate than anything else, and Gerald squeezes their car through the narrow gap left open to them with inches to spare. (At least two, possibly three.)

========

There’s a small flock of drones buzzing around them and a Terrorbyte bearing down on them at the other end of the runway. (Not great odds, but Gerald is proving to be quite resourceful or just incredibly lucky.)

“Are those goddamned blimps?”

There’s also a parachute in the air, and by the rainbow pattern it has to be Gavin.

“They’re faster than you’d think,” Trevor says, “and surprisingly maneuverable.”

He smiles, bland little thing, when Gerald gives him an incredulous look.

========

“Why the hell do you people have so many vehicles?”

Trevor glances up from his phone.

“Sorry, what?” he asks, and Gerald repeats himself with a skosh more emphasis this time.

Trevor shrugs, glancing out his window at the freight train they're keeping pace with, occasional flashes of color as the others tries to land on one of the flatcars. They look like dolphins swimming alongside ye olde sailing ships.

Beautiful and graceful even in failure.

They’re being (gently) herded back to Los Santos, although Gerald seems to think he’s still in control of their destination and not the other way around.

“Well I mean,” he says, and shrugs again. “Nice things.”

Shiny, shiny things. Like a kid in a candy store, his crew. See something flashy, shiny and have to have it. Come up with an idea for a heist to get their hands on it or some form of shenanigans or what have you.

Gerald stares at him in the rearview mirror as though he’s realized they’re all a bunch of lunatics.

========

Like all good things, this merry little chase Gerald’s been leading the others must end.

Unlike all good things, it ends with a blockade created with a handy-dandy rocket launcher, several parked cars, and a crashed ultralight as several Cargobobs hover overhead. (They really do love their Cargobobs.)

Also, Ryan hauling poor Gerald out of the driver’s seat where he’s in the process of beating the everloving shit out of him.

Trevor can’t hear whatever Ryan’s telling Gerald as he teaches him a lesson using violence – he’d be a terrible teacher – but he can guess.

Winces as Ryan drags Gerald in for one last doozy of a punch before dropping his unconscious body to the ground, shoulders heaving a little from exertion. Sees Ryan take a moment to compose himself before he makes his way back to the battered car that’s somehow survived the day’s activities.

He unlocks the door and smiles up at Ryan when he wrenches it open like a brute.

“Hello, Ryan,” he says, bright and cheerful. Flattens a hand against his chest and bats his eyes up at the strong, burly man who rescued him from the clutches of the vile kidnapper. Says, with a terrible Southern accent, “My hero.”

Ryan stares at him for a long, long moment, and then he sighs.

All dramatic about it too, the way Geoff gets sometimes as though life is an endless bout of pain and suffering and woe is him, woe is him.

“I hate you,” Ryan says, matter-of-fact, just a simple little declaration.

Trevor smiles.

“I’m sure you do,” he says. Tips his head to the side. “But the real question is, are you still bored?”

There’s a (literal) trail of crashed and ruined vehicles behind them marking the meandering path Gerald took and who knows how much in property damage.

Chaos, panic, and so on. (Par for the course for them.)

Ryan opens his mouth, and pauses.

Unconsciously mirrors Trevor by tipping his head the opposite direction as he considers Trevor’s question. Makes this annoyed sound when he finds his answer.

“...No,” he admits.

Trevor beams at him.

“Well there you go, then!” he says.

The crew had an exciting day and Gerald got his comeuppance for fucking over one of theirs. (Most likely he hasn’t connected the dots, but if he hasn’t there’s always next time.)

“You’re a lunatic,” Ryan says, as though a sane man would be in Trevor’s position with the crew.

Trevor laughs, because yes, but also -

“Thank you, Mr. Vagabond. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Ryan snorts and steps back to let Trevor out of the poor battered car that’s somehow survived everything they threw at it today.

Trevor looks around at the destruction, random people gawking far too close for their own safety. Looks up, and smiles at the Cargobobs circling the area.

The lone Frogger, because Lindsay.

Back down at Ryan who’s got his hand pressed to his earpiece as he talks to the others to let them know Trevor’s “mugger” has been neutralized and Trevor himself is unharmed and so on and so forth.

He feels something a lot like fondness as Ryan keeps shooting him these little looks, giving that up t some point to stand beside him. Shoulder touching Trevor’s because then at least, he’ll have some warning if Trevor slips away to start a bonus round to their little game.

Overhead one of the Cargobobs separates from the pack and looks for a good place to land to ferry them back to the penthouse, and the faint sound of sirens sound in the distance.

Good old LSPD and various emergency services leaping into action now that the Fake AH Crew has finished another one of their games and it’s safe for people to come out to deal with the mess left behind. It’s an odd agreement, understanding, they have, because this kind of game isn’t about body counts the LSPD’s learned it’s better in the long run if the crew get to have their fun.

Trevor laughs at the absurdity of it all because they’re all a little mad here, aren’t they? Keeps things interesting.

“Madman,” Ryan says with a little shake of his head and something like amusement in his voice. “Let’s go home.”

Well, the penthouse, really.

Celebratory drinks, and takeout set to embellished recounting of the day’s adventures. Plans for future rounds with a few tweaks thrown in, and this overall sense of accomplishment on Trevor’s part because the damn pumpkin worked.

#ragehappy #fahc au #Anon #Kings of Nowhere #vagrant fic #can be shippy if you want???#i'm all for it #\o/#(also thank you so much anon! XD <333!)

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salmonthestoryteller · 5 years

Text

A Wild Salmon Appears… with More Theories

I have to be honest, there were only a few moments that shocked me in 1x13. The first watch through I felt like it maybe hadn't fully lived up to the hype, except for a few moments. But now I think it was more that so much went on, I needed to digest it. And rewatch it, because of course I did. Which leads us where it's lead me all season - wildly speculating on unanswered questions.

Say, are you the kind of kind of kid that reads the last page of the mystery first? That sneaks downstairs to peak at his Christmas presents? No, of course you're not. That's why I'm not gonna spoiler you…

Except I am if you keep reading. (And, yes, btw, all my strange spoiler warnings do come from old movies and TV shows that I’ve altered to fit.)

Let’s start with Maria’s necklace. I’m going to put it out there now - I think Maria is part alien. I’m not sure if MImi is a survivor of the crash, or if the grandmother was. Still deciding on that one. Maria and her mother are the only representative we’ve seen of humans having powers - even the woman on the reservation that died when the Pod Squad emerged was an alien. Also note, thanks to Jenna’s date rape drug detecting nail polish, that Liz never checked Maria’s cells. Maria said her mother told her that the necklace protected them from evil. That at her graduation “she took it off her neck and put it on me.” After that at some point would be when Mimi’s mind started deteriorating. Which brings me to theory number two.

Jesse mentioned that Valenti wanted to shut down Caulfield. (I am deeply relieved to hear that, as once again that puts Jim Valenti back on the good side. I really like Valenti from everything we’ve heard. I didn’t want him to be evil.) I’m going to go back to my briefly mentioned theory about Valenti helping aliens escape Caulfield. First, it would explain the detox bunker - yes, Rosa apparently used it, but it certainly was already around. If he was helping aliens escape from Caulfield he would need a place for them to stay and recover - the bunker. It might explain a few of his “affairs” - they weren’t really affairs. They were the aliens he was helping get away. (Which would explain Mimi’s two very different remarks on him. First saying “poor sweet Jimmy Valenti”, but quickly switching to disgust and saying he had affairs and someone should tell his wife as her mind switched between years.)

But Jim couldn’t have run such an operation alone. He couldn’t be with the aliens all the time without raising suspicions. He would also need help - which is where I think Mimi comes in. I think she was the one who was helping him sneak aliens out. Remember she mentions “they’ve been living among us for years”, and - in her sane moments - does not seem to view aliens as a threat. Admonishing Maria for “being a downer” when she says the aliens aren’t coming. If Mimi’s necklace protected her from the powers of the aliens she was helping Jim Valenti get out, then if she continued after Maria’s graduation - after giving up the necklace - then one of the final rescued prisoner’s powers could have damaged her mind.

Going even further back, I actually have an even wilder theory. Perhaps originally, and why they were good friends until later in their lives, Jesse was also on board with “rescue the aliens”. It may have been something he and Jim originally did together, against their family’s work. Mimi mentioned she knew the day he changed. His aura grew dark. If I remember right, among the photos Jesse first shows Kyle, is a picture of Kyle’s grandfather dead from an alien handprint. Maybe they accidentally rescued the stow away, who promptly killed Valenti’s father. Where Jim saw it as one bad egg, the incident turned Jesse’s beliefs around and that’s when he viewed the aliens as a threat. Perhaps the stow away, like Noah, even spoke of this Alighting. Of them coming. Which is why Jesse believes so strongly in a coming alien invasion. It still makes him an evil asshole, but it would explain so much about his whole obsession.

Alternatively, and in the whole other direction, maybe Valenti flat out didn’t find out about Caulfield til after Rosa’s death. The moment he did, he started petitioning to have it shut down - which is when Jesse killed him.

Jesse has a prototype alien killing bomb. Who here doesn’t think that’s going to come into play in second season? While Flint doesn’t seem as evil as Jesse, he’s still dedicated to hunting aliens, and firmly believes they are a threat.

Okay, I am sticking by my theory about excess or negative energies affecting the alien Psyche. Because after absorbing lightning and killing Noah, Max was acting way out of it. From healing Michael’s hands despite his protest - that scene made me very uncomfortable, but I think it’s supposed to - to jumping into talking about raising Rosa from the dead. Like, whoa, this was the guy who always wanted normal. Suddenly he’s all about using his powers, talking about how they should try to expand what powers they have, and bringing the dead back to life. This is not the Max we’re quite used to here. Max has always been a bit overbearing, and I have plenty of conflicted feelings about his character, but I don’t think he’d have ever ignored Michael’s protests if in the right state of mind. I don’t think he’d have tried to raise Rosa from the dead in the right mind either. Noah mentioned killing made them feel like Gods - and in that moment Max was definitely living up to that assessment. I won’t go into details again - please see the previous post for that - I just feel that it’s further proof of the theory.

It also plays into my final theories. Max won’t stay dead. (We all know that, but hey, just saying.) The question for me, even more than how is he being brought back, is who is being brought back. Is he going to go back to acting like Max? Or is he going to still be high-on-power Max? Noah said that they were Ophiuchus - he and Max. Man and Snake as one. That kind of scares me for what we��ll see out of Max. Are we heading toward a Max goes dark plot? Is Noah riding shotgun in Max’s brain? Or, will the release of power from resurrecting Rosa return him to normal but have consequences on his abilities and health moving forward?

It’s interesting to note where we end Season One at in regards to the Pod Squad’s ideas about their powers and alien heritage. We start season one with both Max and Isobel set on living their lives normally, with no use of their powers. Neither seem interested in finding out about where they came from or why they’re here. On the reverse side, we see Michael use his powers left and right. (He literally passes Liz vials with it in 1x09, and opens a drawer with it for Isobel in 1x10. The drawer was right next to him. Seriously, Michael?) Michael is also obsessed with finding out who they are, and has been secretly reconstructing their spaceship. In 1x09 Michael points out Max never wants to talk about their past or where they’re from. As the season progresses, though, Max gets more and more invested in where they’re from and what his tattoo means. Meanwhile, Isobel - who hasn’t used her powers in years - begins to use them more and more. We end Season One with Max literally acting high and wanting them to use and explore their powers, and no longer seemingly concerned about secrecy (to the point of bringing the dead back to life), while Isobel is the first to decide she has to try expanding to a different power. Meanwhile Michael, having discovered and lost his mother and learning their home is a war zone, has decided he wants to pursue a normal life in Roswell. It’s basically a complete reversal of where we began. I am interested in seeing how this develops in Season Two.

#roswell new mexico #roswell nm #roswell cw #roswell nm spoilers #plot speculation #my mind doesn't stop

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andrewuttaro · 5 years

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New Look Sabres: GM 12 - DET

One day my children will ask me what it was like to watch Jake McCabe in his prime. They’ll ask me: Daddy, how did our hero block shots so much and still have the strength to score goals and wreck fools? I’ll tell them it was the enduring power of the crossed swords crest and they’ll be Sabres fans forever. I’ll also tell them the Buffalo Sabres really turned the page from the dark days when they started responding. Responding to what, daddy? Losses, child: when they decided to start following losses, ugly losses, with shutout wins every single time, that was when they really turned the page. Speaking of the pages of history: I’ve been diving into the Buffalo Sabres 50Years Special Section of the Buffalo News for a couple weeks looking at their most historic games. I was prepared to default to that list for my reoccurring segment “Greatest Game Against” after each divisional matchup. When I put it out on twitter however I got some real beauties including a submission from @RegalMoustachio (Dan Ball) that is… for lack of better phrasing: Very 1980s. Allow me to paint you a picture: it’s December 23rd, 1987. Christmas is only a couple days away. Ted Sator is Head Coach and Phil Housley is the top defenseman (mind you Lindy Ruff is the Captain of this team) for a Sabres club mired in mediocrity for closing in on a decade. Sabre Kevin Maguire takes a run at Red Wings goalie Zach Stefan after Sabres goalie Tom Barrasso had apparently taken a fist in the shnoz earlier in the game. Here’s the link () go watch it, I can’t do it justice. For the next five minutes after the hit on Stefan it just escalates and escalates. Eventually Bob Probert fights Maguire and it got ugly. I don’t mean to glorify fighting but dear lord, watch that highlight and tell me that doesn’t color the history between these two teams. Last night’s game was Jake McCabe’s revenge game. He was taking revenge on all us nerds who said he’s not an absolute G. Sure he’s no Rasmus Dahlin, but he puts the Buff in Buffalo Sabres. And he did it in a game we really needed it. For the third time this season they responded to a loss with a win. For the second time this season they responded to a loss with a shutout win. For the first time this season my man Linus Ullmark has a shutout!

I was at Frightworld in Tonawanda for the entirety of this game, but the early returns clearly tended toward a snooze-fest. It appeared the Red Wings were dominating that telling statistical categories like 5 on 5 scoring chances and expected goals. They dominated the most basic statistic that is shots for the first period as they got doubled up 12-6. Luckily there were no goals against. You see a period like that and you kinda expect the worst. I went on record before this game and said if they don’t demolish the Red Wings then the first rant of the season from yours truly was coming. That rant was being prepared as I walked through the Storm Area 51 house fearing the Sabres would lose to two bad teams two nights in a row more than the face-panted acting students jumping out at me. Unfortunately we got another Rasmus Dahlin stinker this first period. I feel like I said everything I needed to say about Dahlin’s sketchy play lately after the Rangers game, but I didn’t say what I wanted to change other than don’t give over turnovers, bud. What I probably would’ve asked for occurred: Henri Jokiharju was moved up to Dahlin’s pairing and they had quite a bit more chemistry than Dahlin and Colin Miller had. In spite of that roster move, Dahlin was trying to move the puck out of the defensive zone and somehow yielded it right to Andreas Athanasiou. Athanasiou took a shot, got in back and passed it to another guy who almost out maneuvered a stick-less Ullmark. Luckily that was the worst it got in the first… well other than that Valtteri Filppula breakaway in the first five minutes… ugh, we were really lucky to survive that period scoreless weren’t we? Yikes.

The Red Wings are a team you’re not allowed to lose to. They’re like the Ottawa Senators, they’re biggest goal right now is to get a high-first round draft pick. They have real NHLers in the minors. Detroit has a team caught between then and now. You got the ghost of Niklas Kronwall on one line and USA Hockey Magazine poster boy Dylan Larkin on another. Evidently they’re taking one more dip in the tank in this year’s spicy good draft and so you have to beat them because frankly they want you to! Both the lines of REO Speedwagon and the Roaring Twenties had their chances through the first half of this game but how are you being out-chanced by the Red Wings! How? I very well could go on a rant but kinda like the night before I just have too many early good feels about this team right now to rant at em after a win. To their credit they actually got more shots and high-danger chances in the second period. All the while Jake McCabe is blocking shots like and absolute hero. And so it was his time to be the star before any of the big names that have found their way onto this club: Eichel gets knocked to the ice after laying a hit on Tyler Bertuzzi and Jake McCabe gets the puck near the Wings blueline and thinks for a moment. He decides to take the shot and it zings right past Jimmy Howard into the net for the first goal of the game. 1-0 Sabres with 8:20 left in the second. Buffalo finally had some good play for the remainder of the period including almost another goal from McCabe. Almost. Either way Jake McCabe became my Hard-Working again this game. He’s one of those phenomenons in cities like Buffalo where the populace just canonizes players they deem tough and diligent. I understand he’s not actually that good as anything more than a role player. That’s fine. Let’s celebrate the role players too because we’re winning games we don’t look so hot in because of them right now.

The third period was rowdy. So we’ve established Dylan Larkin is hot stuff. Evidently on a tanking team he takes on the role of penalty drawer. He gets Kyle Okposo for interference; he gets Colin Miller for tripping; watch the replays that data wasn’t all that convincing to me. No amount of powerplay time could save his team now though. The Sabres got a powerplay after Trevor Daley high-sticked Kyle Okposo and the mercenary unit that is this team’s powerplay that we fell in love with in the first six games came back with a vengeance. With all the video replay powers of modern technology I still don’t think I have enough angles on the absolute gem of a goal Sam Reinhart tapped in. It went from Jeff Skinner to Jack Eichel to Victor Olofsson to Sam Reinhart parked in front of the net and in. It was a thing of splendor and maybe one of those goals we look back on months from now. I mean… Jimmy Howard definitely botched that one hard but nonetheless the 2-0 goal here for the Sabres was just beyond magnificent. Unfortunately that goal deserved better than this game. For the remaining 18+ minutes Larkin went on drawing penalties, getting shots and Detroit never looked out of it. You look at 2-0 box score and think that may have not required a herculean effort from a goalie, this one did. Linus got his pad or a stick or a blocker on so many shots this game. He earned his first shutout of the season blocking 41 shots! That’s only 6 shy of the shots blocked Hutton got in his shutout Tuesday that earned him an NHL star of the week honor. I love Ullmark but he shouldn’t have had to do that much work against Detroit. This is a game the Sabres should have dominated a bit more than they did. They could not manage the clean zone exits and entries they did in the very early going of this season and had Detroit not skated around wasting minutes on end on offense then this game could’ve turned out differently. Nonetheless this one ended 2-0 Sabres and our squad improved to 9-2-1 leaving only one game left in October against a very hot Coyotes squad. Isn’t it nice to think at the absolute worst they’ll end this month 9-3-1? Crazy times we live in, eh?

A couple notes before we turn wholeheartedly into Buffalo Bills mode tomorrow: Sabres Stats tweeted in his 164 games as Sabres coach Phil Housley got them 5 shutouts while in 12 games as Head Coach Ralph Krueger has already gotten them 3. That’s a stat that one might call almost worthless, the Robin Lehner years were fraught but there is a grain of something telling in there. I also share the sentiment of many Sabres fans that a Skinner-Eichel reunion feels necessary at this point. “Skinhel” as I’ll call that combo because I’m feeling spooky, is something that can be unleashed like the blue shell powerup in Mario Cart. You use it when you really need to save your ass. We’re not to that point yet but I too feel that temptation. Before we warp this up your reply guy tweet of the game goes to none other than NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman who when asked about the efficacy of the current playoff format responded: ��We think the format works well… unless you’re a Leafs fan.” BURN! That burn was so hot it just ensured it’s going to be a mild winter in southern Ontario! I can say for myself that such a comment is immediately my favorite Gary Bettman quote of all-time. There’s no beating that. Like, share and comment this blog as you go about your Saturday fun. I have nothing to say about the Coyotes Monday night other than maybe don’t let em get every shot they want like Detroit did last night. They will probably make you pay more often than not. Let’s Go Buffalo!

Thanks for Reading.

P.S. What are you looking to about the trip to Sweden for the Global Series? I am so not used to my sports teams getting fun opportunities like that. I don’t know how to get pumped for it.

#buffalo sabres #hockey #blog #NHL #detroit red wings

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comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog · 5 years

Text

Leopold “Butters” Stotch

hi! i think i’ve worked out that i’ve reached the activity limit with my overall replies & discord rp-ing (16 replies overall) but, if not, I’m happy to leave this in your inbox until it’s ready x

out of character info

Name/Alias: Grace Pronouns: She/Her Age: 23 Join Our Discord: Yes – already in x Timezone: GMT Activity: 8 Triggers: N/A Password: Jimmy can fast pass my ass Character that you’re applying for: Leopold “Butters” Stotch Favourite ships for your character: Butters/Kenny, Butters/Eric, Butters/Chemistry

in character info (heavy trigger warning for parental abuse and neglect throughout !!)

Full name: Leopold “Butters” Stotch Birthday: 11th September 2000 Sexuality, gender, pronouns: bisexual, male, he/him Age and grade: 17, senior.

Appearance:

Butters is cursed with eternal baby-face: chubby cheeks and big blue eyes. Even his hair is as soft and fluffy as the day he was born, with his parents making sure that he never deviates from his short-back-and-sides style by cutting it themselves every Sunday evening. That’s not the only thing that hasn’t changed; his clothing style is as sweet and standard as his middle school days – boot-cut jeans, comfortable sneakers and the teal fleece his mom bought for his 15th birthday (he’s barely grown, since). Sometimes, Butters will experiment with a graphic-tee, his favourite being his array of Hello Kitty Island Adventure merchandise, or bright coloured polo.

Butters stands at just under average height and just over average weight, with a cute bit of chub on his belly that he doesn’t think will ever go (he’s banned from visiting the gym after his dad’s bathhouse escapades). One time, his mom threatened to fatten him up so much that he’d never be able to leave, and he’s never been able to budge the extra weight, since. He doesn’t mind, though: he’s as body positive as can be, and thinks that anyone who don’t think he’s handsome ain’t looking hard enough.

Personality:

Butters is a mess, frankly, though he thinks he’s just an ordinary fella living life as anyone should: by being kind and helping others. He’s dangerously gullible and painstakingly naïve, with a generous soul even after everything he’s been through. He just wants to do right by the world, especially his friends. He has a strong sense of justice, though this can be easily manipulated to the point where he’ll believe that what’s wrong is right and what’s right is wrong. Despite often being misguided, he’ll stick by his guns and stay true to himself when the time comes. He’s got better at standing up for himself as he’s got older, too, and isn’t afraid to put his foot down and say heck no if necessary. Most days, he's very confident in his own skills and self-image, but that can all change with one comment.

His disrespect for authority is an interesting personality trait. He’ll fudge the police and tell his teachers to go suck a popsicle, but there’s two people he can’t say no to. Butters has been gaslighted his entire life, and the emotional and physical abuse he receives from his parents has led to humiliating and childlike obedience (what 18-year-old accepts being grounded for using twitter after 9pm?). When he’s caught doing wrong by his parents, all his self-confidence and cowboy-like bravado is shot to smithereens: he’s just a no good miscreant who ain’t gonna amount to nothin’, so he may as well give up on his dreams and stick to bein’ a plain ol’ nobody.

History:

Butters was born to Linda and Stephen Stotch on 11th September 2000. Ever since that fateful day, his life has been nothing but chaos and control and, though he wakes up to the sound of his own screams every night, he’s grateful for every opportunity he gets. It would be impossible to write all of his ups and downs in a couple of paragraphs, but there are two things that have really shaped Butters as a person.

One: his family. Stephen Stotch uses fear to control his son whilst his mom, Linda, is dangerously protective. Though seventeen, Butters still calls his dad ‘sir’ to his face and does what he’s told or faces severe consequences. The night that his mom asked him to stalk his father to the bathhouse changed a lot of things; he saw the internalised secrets and lies that have corrupted both of his parents and has watched them wear white-picket-fence masks in public every damn day since. He saw his dad embrace his sexuality yet treat it as a sin. He experienced his mom, breaking down, vulnerable and distressed, ready to kill her own son. Not to mention the time he was sold to Paris Hilton as a pet. Linda and Stephen Stotch are manipulative and controlling parents whose ‘love’ of their son, however much they fret over him and cover him with kisses, will never make up for the trauma instilled in him.

Two: his friends. Scrotie McBoogerballs, AWESOME-O, Good Times with Weapons, Marjorine, Casa Bonita. The list of shenanigans that Butters been apart of, and victim of, is endless. He’s been locked in a fridge, publicly shamed on television and stabbed in the eye with a shuriken, yet he still hangs out with these guys. Why? Because he was never part of the gang in kindergarten, and he’s never really had a true friend, someone who has made the effort to see what he’s been through and respect him regardless. Besides, hanging with these guys (whatever injuries and humiliation they bring to him) has given him a strength he never knew he had. He’s become a pimp, rekindled his confidence to dance, got his wiener out at school, become a best-selling novelist and, best of all, learned to say no to Eric Cartman. Not bad for a good-for-nothin’.

Sample paragraph: (At least two paragraphs, centred around your character)

For the first time in a long time, Butter’s internal sludge pile of shame and humiliation is joined by anger. He’s so gosh darn mad that he don’t care who knows it, but no-one is gonna know it, ‘cause he got no cell, no internet, and no hope’a gettin’ outta his stupid ol’ room. It’s the same ol’ story: Eric and the fellas convinced him to get a fake ID so they could get some sorta fancy alcohol for Bebe’s party tonight. Kyle said it had to be him, ‘cause he looks the oldest, and he’s the best actor outta all of ‘em. Butters ain’t sure if that’s true, but he appreciated the compliment, and it’s a bad pal that says no to a favour, especially when the entire party rested on his hands.

He got the booze, alright. And he was nice and proud of himself, until Eric said it was the wrong one. Ain’t no one wants to drink this kindergarten crap, Eric said, we’re men now, we gotta drink whiskey. Well, Butters thinks whiskey tastes like butt, and ain’t no one wants to taste butt, ‘cept maybe Kenny. He thought the blue an’ pink bottles looked cute and bubblegum is his favourite flavour, no doubt about it, but maybe he should’a followed the plan and done what he was told. Darn it all.

He was in trouble with the guys, but at least he weren’t in trouble with his mom and dad, and that meant he’d finally be able to go to a real life party, maybe show off his dancin’ skills and eat some cheese and pineapple sticks. But then they found his fake idea when doin’ their routine search’a his room, and all hell broke loose. You ain’t goin’ anwhere today, mister, they said, you’re gonna sit right here on your tushie an’ think about the consequences of identity fraud. I’m goin’ to that party, Buttons said, puttin’ his foot down. Well, that just about earned a slap around the noggin and a week without his cell, so he couldn’t even tell the fellas he weren’t comin’ tonight.

A knock on his window jolts him outta his angry pacing. He doesn’t want to look up, ‘cause he knows it’s probably Eric, comin’ over just to make fun of his current predicament and boast all about how much fun he’s gonna have tonight. Well Butters weren’t gonna have it, no sir-ee. He puts his hands on his hips and he gets ready to march right over there and give Eric a proper telling to, but then he sees it ain’t Eric, it’s Kenny, an’ he got a proper determined look on his face.

“We’re breaking you out,” Kenny says, an’ Butters ain’t gonna argue this time.

Headcanons:

Butters still plays Hello Kitty Island Adventures, but he’s also a massive animal crossing fan. Any game that lets him escape his house, have some independence, and talk to (or raise) cute animals can keep him hooked for hours. Unfortunately, his mom and dad turn the internet off at 9pm and keep his phone in their bedroom at night.

Butters keeps his sexuality a secret from his parents, and it’s no surprise why. After his mom found out about his dad’s trip to the bathhouse (subsequently attempting to murder her son) and after a gruelling (and very confusing) trip to conversion camp, Butters thought it best to hide any ‘abnormal’ feelings. Fortunately, his friends and their often open sexualities has made him feel comfortable and confident with himself, and he’s resoundingly grateful for it.

He is quietly considering his gender and what it means to be Butters. At the moment, he doesn’t think he needs to put a name to it, but it doesn’t hurt to research, and he’s ecstatic to see he isn’t the only one who doesn’t sit on one end of the binary. Though exploring the possibility of being non-binary, he’s happy to be referred to by male pronouns for now.

Butters wants to be a pre-school teacher, even after what happened to Ms. Claridge. He loves drawing and storytelling and wants to share those gifts to others, helping kids who might not be happy at home.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t think his mum will let him go as far as college without having a breakdown or threatening something real bad. Though his parents have started to treat him a little better as he’s got older, their distrust of the world around them, and of their son, has grown rapidly.

Butters works part-time at the ice cream parlour and adds something special to every sale. Most of the time he uses the wafers and chocolate chips to make little teddy bears, but his extra special treat (for people he really likes) is the unicorn uni-cone with lots of sparkles.

Butters is a wonderful artist! He loves using watercolour pencils and paint the best and though his work isn’t always the most profound (it’s usually portraits of his friends or cute animals he sees), it's always beautifully coloured and full of love.

Anything else: thank u guys 4 the opportunity

#Butters stotch #Leopold butters stotch #Admin Samantha #submission

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