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quickspinner · 3 years

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Guard My Heart - Ch 1 Daylight’s Wasting

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Read on AO3

Written for @livrever as part of the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Secret Admirer Lukanette Exchange!

Happy LBSC Exchaaaaaaaaange and I'm the one who gets to write for @livrever, who's been doing so much heavy lifting making sure everything runs smoothly this year! Because I am a sucker I decided to combine her prompts (I should have known better, since the last time I combined prompts from Mal I ended up with Killer Combo) soooooo today you get a first chapter instead of a completed story. I'll reveal the second prompt when it is time, but the first one was neighboring shop owners. I opted for slightly different than the traditional take for Reasons.

I love you to pieces Mal and I really hope you enjoy the journey!

Marinette is moving out on her own and starting her own shop, where she can be the boss and responsible for no one but herself. The years have taught her that for Ladybug to do her job, Marinette has to maintain a certain amount of distance in her personal life...but how's she supposed to do that when a blast from the past is moving in next door? Especially when she's got a box full of nosy kwamis cheering her on...This was not the new beginning she had in mind!

Rating: M, Implied sexual content in later chapters

“This is the big day,” Tikki crowed from Marinette's shoulder, and Marinette tried to smile as she carefully maneuvered her rented van around all the other vehicles crowding the back alley. “Come on, Marinette,” Tikki said gently, nuzzling up against her cheek. “It’s okay to be excited.”

“I am excited,” Marinette told her, putting the vehicle in park. “This is a big deal, Tikki. It’s just that there’s a lot of work to do and I need to be focused on that right now.”

“I wish you didn’t have to do all of this alone,” Tikki fretted. “It’s a lot to do by yourself. Are you sure you don’t want to call anyone?”

“I’ll manage,” Marinette smiled, flexing her arm for Tikki’s benefit. “Besides,” she sighed, opening the door as Tikki zipped into the purse at her hip. “Who would I call?”

Tikki didn’t have a chance to answer as Marinette jumped down from the van. She glanced around the alley at her fellow business owners who were also moving in. Some of them looked almost finished; some, like her, were only just getting started.

Marinette tried not to feel a little irked at the people who were already almost done. How early had they gotten here? Maybe their renovations had been finished earlier and they’d gotten a head start. Marinette pouted for a moment, and then tried to put it out of her mind. It wasn’t a competition, after all. She just needed to focus on her own work. She had a strict schedule written out and taped to the inside of the van that would have her moved into her new shop and the apartment above it, hopefully in time to make a quick run for groceries before it got too late.

Besides, the other shop owners probably had help or had hired people, whereas Marinette was depending on nothing but her own muscles. She couldn’t afford to hire anybody, she didn’t want to wait until her parents were free, and her friends...well. She had her life and they had their lives and other than a few friendly texts now and then, their paths didn’t really cross anymore except for major life events. Despite Tikki’s hints that opening her first boutique should have fallen into that category, it just didn’t seem worth the effort to push the issue. Marinette could do this alone. She was used to it.

A smile grew on her face as she pulled the shiny new keys from her pocket and unlocked the back door of the shop. Marinette couldn’t help a muffled squeal and a hop of excitement as it swung open wide. She kicked down the doorstop to hold it open, and went inside.

Marinette passed through the back room that would serve as storage and workshop, and into the small storefront. She stood there for a moment, suddenly feeling shaky and a bit short of breath. She swallowed. “This is a really big deal, Tikki,” she said, dropping unceremoniously to the floor. She ran her fingertips over the rough texture of the commercial carpeting she had picked out. “I can’t screw this up.”

“You won’t, Marinette,” Tikki assured her, peeping out cautiously. “It’s going to be okay. One step at a time, remember?”

“Right,” Marinette agreed, still breathless, and she pushed herself back up. “Time to get to work.”

She got to her feet, and went back through the shop and then upstairs to the apartment, propping all the doors open, mentally reviewing her plan and where everything would go. Marinette felt both excitement and relief at the thought of finally living on her own, with no one else to make excuses to. Starting tonight, no one would be monitoring her coming and going, or asking where she’d been, or complaining that she’d left her share of the chores undone. No one to report to, no one to worry, no one to disappoint. As nervous as she was about the risks of this new venture, that alone would be a weight off her shoulders.

Doors open and empty rooms ready, Marinette went back outside. She threw up the gate on the back of the van, pulled out the ramp, and took a deep breath as she surveyed the contents, nervousness suddenly threatening to overshadow her earlier confidence. “Okay,” she murmured to herself. “It looks like a lot, all stuffed together like this, but I can do it. Somehow.”

Marinette had packed the van carefully, and her boxes were meticulously labelled and color coded with stickers, so that she knew as soon as she picked a box up whether it was for the shop interior, the back room, or the apartment upstairs. Her world narrowed to the task before her, and she didn’t even notice the looks she got as she hauled box after box and pieces of disassembled furniture into her new space. Her muscles burned, but it was a familiar sensation, a normal sensation. Marinette had learned to take comfort from anything normal, especially on a day like today, when so much was changing. The burn was a reminder to pause and stretch and take a moment to breathe, and that helped keep her focused.

When it started to verge on too much, Marinette sat down on the ledge of her propped-open shop door to rest and drink a bottle of water, mentally assessing her progress and comparing it against her schedule. She was doing pretty well, she thought, although the hard stuff was still to come.

“Marinette?”

She jumped, nearly spilling her water all over herself, and looked up to the man who had spoken to her. Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “L-Luka?” she gasped, scrambling to her feet. “Is that you?”

He grinned, and there was no mistaking it. His hair was a little bit longer, still streaked with blue but tied back at the nape of his neck, and his bangs were clipped back away from his sweaty face. His dimples were more prominent in his leaner face, his jaw more defined, but his smile and his eyes were the same. “Hey,” he said, as calmly as if they’d last seen each other yesterday instead of almost ten years ago, as he adjusted the box he was holding. “Wow, what a surprise, meeting you here.” That was putting it mildly, and Marinette almost laughed at the typically Luka understatement. His eyes flicked to the propped open door and his eyebrows went a little higher. “Are you...moving in?”

“Yeah,” Marinette said, running her hand through her sweaty bangs, and trying to find the ground again. She hadn’t expected to run into anybody she knew today, let alone Luka. She hadn’t even known for sure that he was back in Paris. Marientte felt a pang looking at him, something between guilt and grief, and she suddenly didn’t know what to say.

Luka shifted his box again, drawing her eyes to both the box and the bunched muscles in the arms holding it. Her eyes snapped back to his face. “Wait,” she said incredulously, “Are you—”

“Yep,” he grinned, and nodded at the next door down from hers. “I’m on the corner, so...looks like we’re gonna be neighbors.” He groaned and hiked the box up again. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta put this down, but—when we’re done, maybe we could grab coffee or something, catch up? If you want to?”

“Sure!” Marinette smiled brightly. “I’d love to.”

The slow grin that spread over his face made her insides wobble a little. Wow, she thought, he really grew up. That smile had been intense enough when they were younger; with the sharper features of his more mature face it was devastating. “Okay. I’ll come over when I’m done and give you a hand if you’re still working. See you later.”

“Bye.” Marinette waved weakly, as Luka went to his own door, propped open like hers was. “Oh my God, Tikki,” Marinette hissed, and heard a giggle near her hip. “This isn’t funny, Tikki, what am I going to do?”

“Just go with it, Marinette,” Tikki advised cheerfully. “I know you’ve been lonely, and Luka was always a good friend to you. Maybe this is fate bringing you back together!”

“Tikki,” Marinette sighed, and leaned back against the building behind her, tipping her head back to knock gently against it. She paused, and then opened her purse to look down at the kwami and give her a look. “Fate, or luck?”

“Does it matter?” Tikki asked, shrugging. Her big eyes softened and she reached out just enough to pat Marinette’s hand. “I know you feel bad about the way you two left things, but Luka was always good for you, and you could use a friend like him right now. It doesn’t have to be romantic, Marinette. Don’t overthink it. It’s not good for you to be so alone, so just give it a chance and see what happens!”

Marinette rolled her eyes and sighed, and then checked the time. She needed to get moving if she wanted to stay on schedule, and people were going to think she was crazy if they saw her talking to her handbag.

She had to wait a moment, though, when she got back to the van, for her legs to steady. Luka Couffaine...she hadn’t seen him since he left to tour with Jagged Stone when they were kids. She bit her lip hard. Ugh, how could Luka even want to be her friend now after the way things had happened back then…she’d been so confused, and trying so hard to manage her life and her feelings, and she’d been failing so miserably. Luka had been so kind to her, and tried to help, and she hadn’t even kept in touch with him when he left. If anyone had genuine reason to call her a bad friend, it would definitely be Luka.

Marinette swallowed and took a deep breath and climbed up into the van. Focus, she told herself. Just focus on what you have to do.

She grabbed the closest box and hauled it out blindly. She risked a glance over as she walked by, and saw several young men and a woman, all with multicolored hair, carrying furniture from an even larger moving van into Luka’s place. Then she put her head down and went to her own door, determined.

Marinette did her best not to look towards Luka’s van again, telling herself it would only distract her, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted if she wanted to get this task done.

Everything went according to plan until she got to the wrought iron headboard of her new bed. She’d been able to lift it on her own before, but she realized now, as her arms trembled, that she should have placed this a little earlier in the unloading order. Well, she was going to have to make it work. She got it down the ramp of the van, and had to stand for a moment, bracing it as her muscles twitched and trembled, as she looked at the distance she had to cover to get to the door and thought of the stairs after that. She swore softly, and leaned her forehead against the frame as she tried to muster the strength.

A hand squeezed her shoulder. “We got it, just tell us where you want it,” Luka said, as Marinette looked up at him in surprise.

“Oh,” she said reflexively, “I can—”

“I know you can,” Luka grunted, grabbing one end of the headboard as one of his friends got the other. “But something like this is easier with two people.” He grinned. “Upstairs, I assume?”

“Y-yeah,” Marinette stammered weakly. “The bedroom. Um—” She ran back up in the van and grabbed the first pink-stickered box she came to. “This way,” she smiled at the boys, and went ahead of them, face burning.

“Dude, this is so much easier than all that heavy shit you brought,” Luka’s friend groaned, and Marinette giggled in spite of herself when Luka cheerfully told him to kiss his ass. The boys carried her headboard in and leaned it against the wall where Marinette directed.

“Thank you,” she told them sincerely, and Luka winked at her as he followed his friend out.

“Let us know if you need a hand with anything else,” he told her, and they were gone before Marinette had a chance to say anything else.

She ended up not having to ask him for help at all, because anytime she was struggling, either Luka or one or more of his friends would pop up to help her. Marinette was both touched by Luka’s concern and willingness to help, and angry at herself, for planning so poorly that she needed the help in the first place—no matter how much his friends joked that hauling her stuff was a nice break compared to hauling Luka’s.

Stupid, she scolded herself. Took on too much, as usual, and what would you have done if Luka hadn’t been around? Poor guy, he wasn’t expecting to have to haul extra stuff today, either. We’re back in touch for one day and he’s already having to bail me out. Just like old times. Nice to know I haven’t grown in the least in the last ten years. She kept working with grim determination, trying not to look like she needed more help, and getting angrier at herself every time one of them stopped to give her a hand.

Finally, she was done. She locked up the van and the apartment, and then went to stand once again in her shop front. There was still a lot to be done to it over the next two weeks before the big grand opening event, but now that the move-in was done, she could finally get started. Some of the fixtures she had negotiated with the leasing company, like the carpeted pedestal in one corner where she could do fittings and the full-length three-way mirrors. She’d created the countertop for her register herself, but the company had built the counter and installed her custom top on it for her. Marinette drifted over to it now and ran her fingertips over the resin surface with her monogram M and real pink flowers embedded in it. It turned out really well, she thought to herself, and smiled. That was one thing that went right, at least.

“Marinette?”

She jumped, but then remembered she hadn’t closed the back door yet. “I’m in here,” she called, and a moment Luka came through the door of the workroom, looking around. He grinned, seeing her stand behind the register. “Making yourself at home?” He moved around the front as if he were a customer, and Marinette giggled.

“Something like that,” she said with a shrug. “How goes the unloading?”

“I’m sweaty and filthy, but at least we’re done,” Luka grinned, leaning both elbows on Marinette’s handmade custom countertop. She resisted the urge to shove him off it. “How about you? Need anymore help with anything?”

Marinette shook her head quickly. “No, thank you. I’m done, and I feel disgusting.” She grinned weakly. “To be honest, there’s nothing I want less right now than coffee.”

“Agreed,” Luka chuckled. “I’ll buy you whatever you want, as long as it’s cold.” He winced slightly. “And cheap. This place kinda cleaned me out.”

“I hear you,” Marinette laughed, coming out from behind the counter. It felt too weird, having it between them. “I’m in the same boat. The only reason I could afford this at all is because my grandpa passed away and left all his things to me. Turned out there were a bunch of companies waiting for the old man to die so they could make a bid on his house. They’ve been trying to get the property for years but Grandpa wouldn't sell.” She folded her arms and leaned back on the counter next to him as Luka straightened to face her.

“I’m sorry about your Grandpa,” Luka said, putting his hand on her shoulder. The hand was bigger, but the gesture was the same, and Marinette felt a tender pang for the boy who had loved her. “I know your relationship with him was complicated.” Marinette nodded, but she didn’t really want to talk about it. Luka dropped his hand and gestured towards the door. “Listen, I still owe my friends Chinese and beer for helping me move—and before you say anything, I budgeted for that in my moving expenses.”

“You sound so responsible,” Marinette giggled, and he made a face at her before continuing.

“Why don’t you join us, if you feel up to it?” he suggested. “If not, that’s cool, I can bring you back something and we can catch up some other time when we’ve had a little more rest.”

Marinette hesitated a moment. She wasn’t sure she was up to meeting new people, and a shower would feel awfully good right now, but...they had helped her, and she felt like it would be rude to turn down their company. She bit her lip and glanced at Luka.

He smiled. “No pressure. If you just want to relax after all this, that’s okay. I can’t believe how much crap you moved out of that van all by yourself.” His brow creased for a moment, but he seemed to change his mind about saying anything else, and just waited.

So Luka. Marinette smiled suddenly. “Papa’s going to help me with the one or two really big things this weekend, and the rest I figured I could handle myself. I guess I overestimated myself a little bit. I really appreciated your help, though. I do want to relax, but…it has been ages since we could hang out. If you don’t think your friends will mind—a cold beer sounds awfully good right now…”

Luka snorted. “Since I’m buying, they’re not allowed to mind,” he said with a grin.

Feeling daring, Marinette linked her arm through Luka’s. “Tell you what. Since we’re both on the verge of broke right now, how about we each buy our own drinks, and I pay for my share of the food plus a little bit to cover you guys helping me out,” she suggested, “and the first one to hit the black owes the other dinner?”

“Deal,” Luka grinned, and warmth fluttered in Marinette’s stomach.

“So, um,” she said, looking away as they walked back out of the shop. “Music shop?”

Luka chuckled as they paused by the door so Marinette could lock up. “You’d think, but, ah...actually, it’s antiques and collectibles. And uh...curiosities.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not allowed to say junk, but you know Mom. Her taste is...weird.”

“Really?” Marinette looked back at him, shocked. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Mom’s been on her world tour, sending home crap from all over, and finally there didn’t seem anything else to do.” He gave her a sideways grin that told her there was probably more to the story than that, but he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. He offered her his arm again as she turned away from the door. “I talked to her about it and we went in on the shop together. She’s going to be my buyer and I’m going to run the business. A lot of what I’ve got is music related, though,” he admitted. “And I’ve maybe started a little collection of my own. I still love playing, but I like small audiences anyway, and well...if the shop does okay, then I’m hoping I’ll have a little more freedom to pick and choose my gigs without worrying about whether I’m going to eat that month.” He winced. “We’ll...see how that works out for me. Mom’s pretty gung ho, but...” He shrugged. “She never really was one for practicalities. I mean, I know I won’t starve if the place fails, she and...and Jagged would bail me out if I were really in trouble, but I really don’t want to have to fall back on that.” Marinette nodded sympathetically at the expression on his face. It seemed like he still had mixed feelings about Jagged, even after all this time, and Marinette could hardly blame him. “To be honest,” he went on, “this whole thing is kind of a gamble and I’m nervous about it, but it beats working for The Man, right?”

“Tell me about it,” Marinette sighed.

Luka put his hand over hers where it rested on his arm and she looked up at him. “Hey,” he said, in the same gentle way he used to when they were kids. “We got this. We’re gonna kick ass and be living in luxury.”

Marinette laughed. “I’d settle for being able to afford pizza.”

Luka groaned. “Please don’t mention pizza, I’m still traumatized.”

Marinette laughed again, and leaned into his arm, and he leaned back, chuckling along with her, and...it was like nothing had ever changed. Marinette felt her breath catch and a sudden lump in her throat, and Luka paused.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked softly, looking down at her.

Marinette nodded quickly, blinking back the tears that wanted to come out. “Sorry, I—I’m just glad to see you again, that’s all.”

Luka smiled at her, and maybe it was just the heat but she thought he was blushing slightly. He took her hand off his arm and moved it down to his own hand, and threaded his fingers tightly through hers. “Likewise,” he said, squeezing, and Marinette smiled, squeezing back. She was selfishly glad to find he hadn’t changed too much, deep down. His hand dwarfed hers the same way it always had, but it gave her an odd little flutter now to look at her fingers between his. They stood for just a moment, and then Luka started walking again, tugging her along with him. He let go of her hand just before they reached the group of his friends standing around and put his hand on her back instead. “Hey, guys, this is Marinette. We’ve been friends for a long time and I haven’t seen her for ages, so she’s coming along with us.”

Marinette gave an awkward wave. “Thanks a bunch for the help,” she said, “I told Luka I’d help pick up the tab as thanks.“ They all grinned at her.

“Congrats, you’ve just won their undying loyalty,” Luka commented dryly. “Bunch of mercenaries.” He put just a little pressure against her back and gestured vaguely. “There’s a place a couple blocks over, we were just going to walk if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Marinette agreed, and the small group shuffled off. Luka let his hand fall once she started moving, but he stayed beside her, which she secretly appreciated, since the others were strangers. They seemed perfectly comfortable with each other, though, joking and shoving and teasing. Marinette found herself smiling as she watched them. This was what she was fighting so hard to protect, after all, even if it was something she couldn’t really have anymore.

Luka touched her arm lightly, and when she looked up at him, he raised his eyebrows at her slightly in silent inquiry. She smiled at him to let him know she was good. He relaxed a little, and turned back to the conversation.

There was some friendly chaos as everyone ordered their food and Luka and Marinette negotiated the split, but finally they all had their dinners and enough chairs to seat everyone. Marinette hadn’t realized how hungry she was until her food was in front of her.

“Ugh, I’m so hungry,” Luka moaned beside her, and there was a chorus of agreement that made her chuckle. The chatter didn’t exactly stop, but it slowed down considerably as they all applied themselves to their food.

Marinette focused on her plate and just let the talk flow around her, thoughts drifting again to all of the things she needed to do between now and the grand opening.

She only realized she had lost the thread of the conversation entirely when Evan’s words caught her attention again.

“I dunno, man, this neighborhood’s had bad juju since Ladybug and Chat Noir took down Hawkmoth,” he was saying, shaking his head slightly. “The whole area was levelled. Even though Ladybug fixed it, people don’t seem to stay and businesses don’t stay open. My sister said that’s why they shut everything down and redid all the buildings. One last-ditch effort at trying to revive the place. Turn it into artisan shops, make it attractive to tourists and hipsters.”

Luka shrugged. “I feel a lot better about my chances now that I know Marinette’s next door,” he said, nudging her with his elbow and grinning at her when she swatted him. “She’s got a great head for business and marketing. It can’t be a lost cause if she’s here.”

Marinette snorted. “Maybe it’s just all I could afford,” she said, making a face at him.

“The price was right, that’s for sure,” Luka admitted. “Either way, it can only benefit me to have you attracting traffic next door. Although maybe I’m assuming too much, are you still doing fashion?”

“Yes,” Marinette confirmed. “I graduated from ESMOD last year. I’ve...well, I decided the regular industry jobs aren’t for me, and that I’d be better off working somewhere where I could be the boss.” Also I can’t stay employed when I have to run off to akuma attacks constantly.

“I’m just surprised you picked this spot, that’s all,” Evan chuckled. “I thought sailors were superstitious.”

“We’re also cheap,” Luka snorted. “This was the best option I had that didn’t involve going to the old man, and—”

“And that woulda been fireworks,” Dingo laughed. “I almost wish you’d suggested it so I could’ve watched the Captain freak out about it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it would have been fun for you. ” Luka threw a peanut at him. “Since I’d be the one in the blast radius, I don’t think so.”

“Well, just so you know, I’m gonna laugh my ass off if Harvester levels this neighborhood the week after your grand opening,” Evan cut back in.

“Unlikely,” Marinette said without thinking, and everyone turned to look at her. She blinked, and then shrugged. “Hawkmoth caused damage on purpose, to lure out Ladybug and Chat Noir because he wanted their Miraculous. Harvester doesn’t seem to care about the Miraculous; she’ll take them if she can get them, but she’s just...I don’t know, greedy. She causes plenty of damage on a small scale, but she doesn’t usually destroy whole neighborhoods. There’s nothing where we are that’s worth her targeting, though. Besides, her targets tend to be in the wealthier areas of town.” She made a slightly sour face. It was bad enough that they hadn’t managed to recover the butterfly with Hawkmoth’s defeat. It was worse that it fell into the hands of someone as selfish and greedy as Harvester. She was barely more than a petty thief, and it was a burn to Ladybug’s pride that they hadn’t been able to catch her yet.

Trouble was, because Harvester lacked the kind of focus that Hawkmoth had had, she was less predictable, and more ruthless. There had been a certain rhythm to Hawkmoth’s attacks that Ladybug and Chat Noir had learned to work with over time to minimize damage. Harvester was much more random. She didn’t care what kind of damage she caused, she didn’t care if people got hurt—she just didn’t care, period. She wanted attention, and she wanted expensive things, and she didn’t care who suffered if she didn’t get her way.

Scratch that. She did care about one person’s suffering—Ladybug’s. She didn’t seem to care about their Miraculous, but she wanted Ladybug. Alive if possible, but she’d shown more than once that she wasn’t opposed to Ladybug very painfully dead, either.

Marinette shuddered.

Luka’s hand fell on her shoulder and she looked up at him, startled.

“You okay?” he asked softly, leaning in a little.

“Yeah, of course,” she lied automatically, with a bright, extremely fake smile. “Just tired.”

She’d forgotten how good Luka was at seeing lies. She could see in his face that he didn’t believe her, but he gave her a small smile that said it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, and turned back to the table.

Marinette took a breath and tried to tune back into the conversation as Dingo, Evan, and Marcie continued their good-natured ribbing over Luka’s new enterprise.

“So how do you two know each other again?” Marcie asked, and Marinette froze, her mouth full of noodles. She glanced up and saw Marcie watching her with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Marinette went to school with Juleka,” Luka replied easily. “We got to be friends right before I left with Jagged.” His tone was pleasant, but he cut his eyes up at Marcie in a sharp look that Marinette didn’t quite understand. Marcie clearly did, though, because she said something inane and changed the subject. Dingo and Evan exchanged a look, and then Evan looked down at his plate and Dingo looked at Marinette with a thoughtful expression—or at least she thought so, but it was hard to tell because he was still wearing his sunglasses.

She was having trouble getting that mouthful of noodles down with him looking at her like that.

“Ding,” Luka said mildly, without looking away from his own food, and Dingo huffed, shook his head, and went back to eating.

It still took effort to chew and swallow, and Marinette shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and began trying to think of a way to make her exit. Before she could, Luka put down his chopsticks and started closing the containers nearest to him. “Well,” he said, “I’m really grateful for the help today, guys. You guys can all consider one favor knocked off the big stack that every single one of you owes me.”

There was laughter and protests, and Luka raised his voice to be heard over them. “But I’m exhausted, and I still have to shower and get at least enough of my stuff unpacked that I have somewhere to sleep tonight, so I think I’m going to head back. Are you still eating, Marinette?”

“Oh, no, I’m good,” Marinette said hastily, recognizing the out as she began packing up her own containers. “Mind if I walk back with you?”

“Sure,” Luka smiled.

“Hey Lu,” Dingo called after them, and Luka looked back as he opened the door and held it for Marinette. “Don’t be a dumbass, man.”

Luka just flipped Dingo off with his free hand and followed Marinette out of the door.

“They know, huh?” Marinette muttered as the door fell shut behind them, and Luka sighed.

“Yeah,” he said. “Not the details, but...enough. I’m sorry they made you uncomfortable.”

Marinette shrugged. “Not like I don’t deserve it.”

Luka put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed in a light half hug, turning her in the right direction as they started walking. “I forgave you a long time ago, for what it’s worth. We were just dumb kids. Not to say the feelings weren’t real, but let’s just say we hadn’t exactly reached the age of sober judgement yet and leave it at that, okay?”

Marinette shook her head. “I still feel like I...owe you an apology for all that. I wasn’t very considerate of your feelings. If...if it hadn’t been for Adrien…” Marinette began, and trailed off as Luka’s arm tightened around her. “It’s just,” Marinette tried to control her breathing, and blinked quickly to keep the tears back. “I tried so hard to keep everything together, and it all kind of fell apart anyway, and looking back, I just...wish I’d made some different choices about my priorities. About which people I put my energy into. I’m just...I’m sorry I didn’t choose you, Luka. I’m...sorry I didn’t stay in touch after you left.”

Luka blew out a slow breath. “It was a crazy time for both of us. That year with Jagged, it was...it was a lot. I’m honestly not sure I’d have been able to keep up my end, so. Don’t worry about it.”

“You...still don’t get along with Jagged too well?” Marinette ventured.

Luka rolled his eyes. “Having one parent constantly acting like a child was more than enough, I really didn’t need a second parent to take care of.” He winced. “Sorry, that came out a lot more bitter than I meant. It’s not like I expected him to act like a dad, but…” Luka shook his head. “Anyway, a year of that lifestyle was enough. I finally told him I was going home. I’m not interested in anything he can give me. Maybe it would have been different, if I’d done it on my own, but...there is no on my own anymore. I can’t make it in that industry without being attached to him, and I just...don’t want that.” He gave her a rueful grin. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” Marinette said, reaching up and curling her hand around his where it rested on her shoulder. “No, not all.”

He smiled at her, and she dropped her hand. They walked in silence the rest of the way.

“Well, home sweet home,” Luka said, letting his arm fall as they walked up the steps to the balcony that ran along the back of the buildings, providing outdoor access to their apartments. “This gonna be weird,” he admitted, as they paused in front of his door. “I’ve never lived alone before.”

“Me neither,” Marinette admitted with a nervous giggle.

Luka smiled at her. “Well, if you ever need anything, or you just want to talk or hangout or whatever.” He nodded to his door. “You know where to find me.”

“That’s a dangerous promise,” Marinette tried to smile, but she wasn’t sure it worked. “You did so much for me before, and never got anything back for it. I feel like I took advantage of you.”

“You didn’t,” Luka replied immediately, like she should have known he would. “Marinette, even if that were true, and I really don’t think it is...I never did any of that for...payback, or something. I wasn’t expecting anything out of you. I just wanted you to be happy.”

Marinette couldn’t think of anything to say to that. It was true that everything he’d done for her, he’d done voluntarily, and that she had done some things for him, although they were more really for Kitty Section as a whole, but...it didn’t change the way she felt. She’d failed Luka, just like she failed everyone that cared about her.

She jolted slightly when she felt his hand on her shoulder again. Luka let go quickly, his hand hovering there as he looked over her face. She started to open her mouth to apologize, but Luka let his hand drop. “I’ll see you soon, neighbor,” was all he said, and then he turned to unlock his own door. He gave her a smile over his shoulder, and though it looked different on his adult face, it was the same smile he used to give her, the one that said he had faith in her, no matter whether she had any in herself at the moment.

Then his door closed with a quiet click, and she was standing there alone.

“Marinette,” Tikki whispered after a moment, reaching out of Marinette’s purse to touch her hand.

Marinette jumped slightly, and then turned to her own door, fumbling her keys out. She unlocked it and went inside.

“Marinette?” Tikki zipped out of her purse to float at eye level, her expression sympathetic and concerned.

Marinette gave her a weak smile. “I can’t decide if I’m glad he’s there, or if I’m upset about it. He’s always been so observant. What if…” She trailed off, and folded her arms uncomfortably.

Tikki tilted her head slightly. “Is that really what you’re worried about?”

Marinette bit her lip. “Not really,” she admitted. “It’s just…” She folded her arms and chewed her lip, trying to find a way to articulate her feelings. “Luka’s easy to depend on,” she said softly. “Having him right there...I’m not sure it’s good for me. I’m afraid I’ll...I don’t know. Be tempted to lean on him more than I should, and end up hurting him all over again. Not that—not that he feels the same as he did back then, but Luka’s still Luka, he just...he’s a helper, and I’ll end up asking too much and he’ll resent me and he’ll end up selling his shop just to get away from me and—”

“Marinette!” Tikki waved her arms to catch her attention. “Okay, I get it. But Luka does live next door and there’s nothing either of you can do about that now. So what can we do?”

Marinette sighed. “I just have to be careful,” she decided. “I have to make sure I don’t ask him for too much. For...for some things, maybe, because Luka’s discreet and he doesn’t ask questions so there might be times when I can ask him to cover for me and stuff...but not too much. Only when I really need it.”

“Okay.” Tikki flew in close and laid a paw on Marinette’s cheek. “That sounds like a good plan. We just take one day at a time, right?”

“One day at a time,” Marinette agreed, and then smiled. “And we still have to get this apartment fit to live in, so let’s let the others out and get started making this place into home. We can do the groceries tomorrow.” Dinner with Luka had not been in her schedule, after all, but...this once, she didn’t mind.

“That’s the spirit!” Tikki cheered, and followed Marinette towards the bedroom.

It was weird, that first night, with the smell of fresh paint and cardboard, and all the noises from outside that were so different than the ones she was used to. It was hard to go to sleep, especially when there was so much to do, but the kwamis finally bullied her to bed, and their presence tucked in all around her gave her enough comfort to doze off. The same weirdness woke her early in the morning, and she wandered around her apartment like a zombie in her striped pajama pants and tank as she waited for her coffee to be ready.

She was halfway through her second mug, still staring blankly at the pile of boxes and making absent noises of agreement now and then at the chattering kwami perched around her, when a knock on her door made her jump and sent the kwamis scattering for cover.

Frowning, Marinette padded to the door in her bare feet, coffee cup in hand, and stood on her toes to peek out of the slightly-too-high peephole.

“Luka?” she said in surprise, and opened the door.

“Hey,” he smiled at her. “I was going to do a grocery run, and I saw you didn’t have a car, so...I thought maybe you’d like a ride with me?” He held up a motorcycle helmet. “Not exactly the same as my old bike,” he grinned, “But if memory serves, you can handle it.”

Marinette burst into giggles. “I can handle anything you can handle,” she said when she could control herself, folding her arms and cocking a hip.

Luka’s smile warmed, and he winked at her. “Finish your coffee and meet me downstairs in ten.”

It took most of that time for her to dig out her riding gear; she hadn’t expected to need it anytime soon, so it wasn’t particularly accessible, but thanks to her overly detailed box organization system, augmented by a little kwami assistance, she found the right box and got it open, pulling out her black padded jacket with pink panels on the sides, and her carefully-packed black and pink helmet with her flowers stenciled on the side. A little more digging found black motorcycle boots with pink hardware up the side to hold the lacing. She put it all on over a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and hurried for the door.

“Wait!” Kaalki cried, bursting out of another box, towing something sparkly. “Don’t forget these! You haven’t seen him in years, so you simply must look fabulous !”

Marinette giggled and took the glasses Kaalki held out to her. “Thanks, Kaalki.”

“They’re not as good as mine,” Kaalki huffed, fluffing her mane. “But they’ll do.”

Luka did a double-take when he saw her, his eyebrows practically flying off his forehead they shot up so fast. Marinette giggled at his reaction. “Grandma,” she shrugged with a grin, and slid the chrome riding glasses with pink lenses and rhinestones lining the frame. Luka burst out laughing.

“You look amazing,” he said, trying to stifle the laugh.

“Thank you,” Marinette sniffed. “She decked me out so she could take me on a road trip for my eighteenth birthday.”

“Nice,” Luka grinned, zipping up his own padded jacket and swinging one leg over the bike. “I want to hear all about it later.” He jerked his head. “Come on, hop aboard. I hope your list isn’t too long, we can’t carry too much on this thing, but we should be able to get the essentials.”

Marinette didn’t bother answering, putting on her helmet instead and then climbing aboard behind Luka. Her list had been long, but she could live without most of it for a few days. This might actually work out better, giving her a chance to get the essentials so she’d have less to carry when she went back for the rest.

Luka showed her where to put her feet, and grinned back at her before he strapped on his own helmet. “Just like old times.”

“Not quite like old times,” she giggled, putting her hands on his waist. “I’m really glad to have you back though,” she said quietly, not sure whether she wanted him to hear her or not.

He must have heard though, because Luka put one gloved hand over hers for just a moment, and then started the bike. “Tap my shoulder twice if you need me to stop,” he called back as he backed them out of the space. He blew out a breath, and then flipped down his helmet’s visor and took off.

It had been a while since she’d been on a motorcycle, so she tried to concentrate on moving with him as they rode. She was rewarded by a smile when they dismounted the bike and Luka pulled his helmet off. “Your grandma’s a good teacher,” he said. “You’re easy to ride with.”

“Thanks,” Marinette smiled, letting him stow her gear with his. “Don’t buy any bread,” she warned him as they walked into the store. “My parents are going to be by sometime today or tomorrow I’m sure, and as soon as they hear you’re my neighbor I know they’ll bring extra.”

“I’m not going to say no to that,” Luka chuckled. “Anything your dad makes is going to be way better than anything they’ll have here.” They shared a smile, and a slightly awkward silence fell between them as they each picked up baskets and started walking through the store. Marinette wondered if she should go off on her own, but the store wasn’t that big and she’d probably keep bumping into him and then that would be weird and she couldn’t just ditch him—

“How are your folks doing these days?” Luka asked, picking up a box off the shelf.

“O-oh, they’re...they’re good. Well. I mean, pretty much the same as always, you know?” she said, flustered.

“How are they handling you moving out?” he asked, smiling as he put the box in his basket and then stuck his hand in his pocket as they strolled forward.

Marinette let her head drop back and gave a sigh of longsuffering. “They’re...doing their best,” she giggled. “They’re very enthusiastic, but…”

“Holding a lot back?” Luka smiled.

“Not very successfully,” Marinette giggled. “What about you, how’s your family doing? How’s J-Juleka?” she asked, and tensed when Luka gave her a sideways glance.

“Pretty good,” he said, selecting a box from the shelf to put in his basket. “I haven’t told her yet that I ran into you.” He glanced at her again. “You want me to, or should I not? I know you girls lost touch a while ago.”

Marinette shrugged without looking at him, blushing faintly. “I don’t mind. We didn’t have a falling out or anything, just you know...time, and stuff. She probably doesn’t want to hear from me, maybe you should just not mention it.”

Luka smiled, eyes on the shelf as they strolled. “I don’t know. Juleka and me, we were always taught that people have to live their lives, you know? You appreciate them while you have them, and you let them go when your paths drift apart. You were always going places, Marinette, everybody knew that. I don’t think Juleka will hold it against you.” His smile broadened, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “She’s been doing some dream chasing of her own, after all.”

“Really?” Marinette said, taking the phone when he handed it to her. She looked at the image and her mouth dropped open. “Oh my gosh, she really did it? She’s a model?”

“Cosmetics mostly so far,” Luka told her with a smile. “She’s trying to get into clothing and runway but she’s done really well with the cosmetics companies. Her eyes are so amazing and her skin’s always been flawless.”

“She looks beautiful,” Marinette sighed, handing the phone back. “Is she happy?”

“She seems to be.” Luka pocketed the phone, and went back to shopping, giving a pointed look at Marinette’s empty basket. She hurriedly turned to the shelves too, trying to make herself focus on her list. “Anyway, she’s had to let a few things go in the process, so I think she’d understand. She did have to get a new number a while back, but I can give her yours if you want me to.”

“Well…” Marinette still felt a flutter of nerves, but she pushed it down. “Sure.” She smiled weakly. “You always make everything so easy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Luka chuckled.

“It is,” Marinette smiled.

“It’s the same for me, you know,” Luka said, and Marinette blinked at him in confusion. “About the friends coming and going, I mean. It’s just a part of life, Marinette. It’s not something you should be embarrassed or ashamed about. It’s just the way things are.” He gave her a kind smile. “There were a lot of friends I left behind that year with Jagged. I wasn’t kidding about how busy I was.”

Marinette smiled, though she kept her focus on the shelves. “You’re still friends with Dingo.”

“Don’t remind me,” Luka chuckled. “I can’t get rid of him. There’s some people, you know, where no matter how long you go without talking. With Dingo, no matter how much time passes, it’s like we last talked yesterday. Besides, he knows all my secrets. I can’t afford to cut him loose.”

Marinette sighed. “That must be nice though. Having someone who knows you that well.”

“Sometimes,” Luka agreed. “Though mostly he just uses it to make my life hell. Thank God he’s still chasing Brielle or I’d never get rid of him. He has to pretend to be an adult at least half the time to convince her he’s still worth wasting her time on.”

“Wow, they’re still together?” Marinette giggled. “That’s impressive.”

“They are, they aren’t, they are again. It’s…” Luka shook his head. “Not my idea of the ideal relationship, but it works for them—well, most of the time—so…” he shrugged. “I’m chronically single, though, so who am I to judge.”

“Really?” Marinette finally looked up at him. “Why? I mean—” she turned red and spluttered, and Luka had to dodge her flying grocery basket as she tried to frantically erase the question with her flailing hands. “Ooooh, I’m sorry, that was so nosy.”

“It’s okay,” Luka laughed. “Relax, Marinette. What about you? Anyone special in your life?”

Marinette’s face heated, but she figured Luka was the last person on earth likely to judge her relationship history. “Me? Oh, no. I had a few flings in high school and uni, but…” she shrugged. “They never lasted long. I’m...not very good at casual, but I don’t have a lot of time to give a relationship. It seemed like no matter how hard I tried it all tended to fall apart sooner rather than later. Eventually, I just stopped trying.”

“Timing,” Luka sighed sympathetically, shaking his head, “Timing is a bitch, no doubt.”

Marinette hunched her shoulders a little. “You can say that again.”

Luka touched her arm gently, and they finished the rest of their shopping with lighter small talk, mostly about all the crazy shenanigans Anarka was up to now that she was free and unfettered with both of her children out of the house.

It took some ingenuity to get their purchases loaded on the bike, and Marinette had a few things precariously wedged between herself and Luka, but they made it home without losing anything, and that was what mattered.

Luka stopped at his door, while Marinette kept walking to hers. She was still trying to get her keys out of her pocket when Luka got his door open.

“Marinette,” he said, and she looked at him in surprise. “If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

“Oh...um, sure,” Marinette said as brightly as she could, remembering her vow the night before not to ask him for anything more than necessary.

“I mean it.” Luka held her gaze for a moment and grinned. “Because I have like a million favors I’d like to ask, and I need to start stockpiling on my end. I could use some help with branding and advertising, for starters.”

Marinette blinked, and then laughed, and she saw his shoulders relax a bit.

“You can just ask, you know,” she told him, and Luka shook his head.

“Nope. Fair’s fair. Every artist deserves payment for their work, I just don’t have the cash handy for it. So if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. It’ll be a down payment on designing my new signage.” He grinned at her one more time, and then opened his door and was gone.

That was...so Luka, she thought affectionately, coming up with a way to put the offer of his help out there in a way she couldn’t refuse. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be mad at him for daring to see through her so easily.

Well. She definitely didn’t want a repeat of last time, where she was constantly taking from him and giving nothing in return. But surely, an equal trade would be okay? She could do that without making it weird.

She opened her door and stepped inside, and was immediately swarmed by kwami hoping for a snack. “Only one each!” she scolded them all, making her way to the kitchen. “We’re never going to make this work if you’re constantly eating me out of house and home.”

“Did you enjoy your trip?” Sass asked her, and she met his knowing smile.

“Yes, I did,” she said, lifting a finger to poke him in the belly. “It’s good to see him again.” She smiled. “He’s doing well, Sass.”

Sass chuckled, still giving her that same look. “That isss good to hear.” Marinette narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are we ssstill painting the shop tomorrow?” Sass asked innocently.

“Yes,” Marinette said firmly. “We have a lot of work to do before the grand opening.”

Fiction Master Post | LBSC 2021 Exchange Collection

#quickspins #guard my heart #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #lbsc 2021 exchange #rated: m

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weirdo-with-a-nametag · 3 years

Text

Brain is tv static with random frames interspersed

Think I'm like. Really stressed and jumping between topics to try and find something that helps / feels good

Topics:

Anyone know a good health tracking app for adhd people? I want one that like pops up when you open your phone, maybe? But is unobtrusive. Like maybe you just rate your mood or whatever when you open your phone, and it closes, and you go about your business. I just hate every app and paper method I've tried but really want to track some stuff

Pigeon. ? Pigeon as pet?

Service animals re: cats, pigeons, my cat specifically, and then also ESAs and also what to use as treats while training my cat (he's pretty happy to learn behaviors with praise and pets as reinforcement, but treats would make everything move much faster, but I haven't found something I want to give him so we've just been y'know. Chillin)

Service animals re: what tasks can my pet potentially do that would help me? I don't really know a lot about service animals and there is a Huge range. If anyone has suggestions, or places to read about it, I'd appreciate it! Mostly thinking they may help with anxiety, sensory, and mobility/fatigue related stuff. Not much of a need for medical alerts.

Bioactive enclosures for my snakes, need to research their biomes and make progress on designs and equipment specifications

Also. Hit a seriously hard patch and haven't been handling them much at all this month so that's not great

Casting stuff. Saw jewelry today made of metal casts of claws, skulls, etc, and they were really well done and made me want to do that

Some taxidermy / vulture culture stuff I won't get into right now

Puzzles????

How to organize my room

Need a shower

Need to organize bathroom

So Much Schoolwork

Uhhhhh trying, but not making much headway, to figure out how I want to do my music collection. Also really need to clean my records..

Make?

Food??? Ew.

Dental hygiene ://

Plampts. So many. Houseplants need maintenance, many need repotting. Keep taking in people's problem plants and like, they're doing better, largely, after being trimmed and watered and whatnot, but need repotting. Also need to trim some aquarium plants.

Also need to put water in tanks. And spray nepenthes.

Laundry.

Gotta pick up trash in my room. There's so much. Everywhere. Why.

Schoolwork. I'm so behind. So, so stuck. Kind of feel like I'm dying.

Going on a picnic tomorrow. Have to figure out what still needs doing for that, probably need to go to the store.

Leo needs water. I'm so....ugh, I'm trying so hard, but it feels impossible. I do my best to take good care of my pets, and I think they live pretty good lives most of the time, but sometimes I get like This and completely drop off the face of the earth and then like, wake up or whatever and two weeks have passed by and I have not cleaned a water bowl! That's a serious problem!!!! I do not know how to combat that, really, besides more reminders. Having someone around who is willing to like, help, when things are especially hard, would be great, but I don't live with my partner right now and do not feel like I can ask anyone here for that. But I can't put my animals at risk. I check on them every day, and if their bowls are dirty I do take them out and clean them, but sometimes (like now) i cannot get myself to do it without a pressure like a dirty bowl, or a feeding day. And like, it's really important that they have clean water. I'm talking to myself here but like, if anyone has advice. Please. With the tank redesigns and upgrades, the bowls will be more accessible, which will help because one of them is very heavy at the angle I have to pick it up, and another requires moving a lot of branches and is best to take out while the snake is out (this is Leo) which is fine because I love my boy, but adds time to the process, and makes it harder to start, you know? Maybe if I just got more bowls - I could take the bowl out and immediately replace it, fill the new one, and replace the decor and snake, and then clean the bowl as a separate task? That would be easier for my brain. Currently I have a Specific bowl I prefer to use for each tank, and then everything else is Just In Case, but I mean. Acquiring extras is something I want to do anyway, and it may help with several problems, so. Yeah. I'll try that. But also, any other ideas, guys?

Anxiety: can't stop picking at my face, skin, nails, cuticles, scalp, pretty much everywhere with callouses, also scratched a mole off my face, which is something I've been trying Not to do for a while, so that's...not great. Can't find my earmuffs, and also all of my headphones are painful? Ears are really sensitive lately.

Been playing a lot of Moth Game (flutter: starlight if you wanna be friends say hey I don't know how to do it but would enjoy talking about moths if nothing else. The game is just like, an idle ish collecting game with cutesy versions of different species, and very little actual information, but it's still fun, and if anyone else is on there and also Into Moths like I am, hiiiii) and like it's fun and cute but also greatly impacting my productivity, and raises my stress levels during events, which is most days, so the game has. Not been helping. But I can't stop because then I'll miss Exclusive Moths.

Anyway. Had baklava and two mugs of Thai tea today and the sugar has made me nauseous.

Trying to journal. Hurts to write. Also takes too long. Also my handwriting is very bad. But typing is..not as good

Want to draw. Thinking about drawing cats

Plants again! Want to make seed bombs, have seeds, have most of the other ingredients, just need to put em together, basically.

Really sad :(

Or am I?

Weird noise coming from dining room?

Birds. Spent half an hour at least on the deck tonight listening to a hundred different bird calls (literally) to identify one I was hearing, it was a pine siskin, which I checked early on but the recording was bad and I didn't realize which call was identified. Anyway, cool to put a name to a face, so to speak.

Need to practice for ASL

So much.....to do...

Only had like >3 hours of work this week which was not great because money, but also like I'm really feeling those 3 hours....

My cat is basically refusing to come into my room? Which is very strange and I'm worried something is Off but cannot figure out what. Also means less cuddles which means I'm sad.

It feels strange whenever people follow me, the attention is nice but I have no idea what content y'all are here for. So to everyone: hi, enjoy, hope my random personal posts aren't a surprise to anyone who followed for like. News reblogs and informational stuff.

Do I even have it in me to..be successful in school? Should I drop out of college? I'm struggling really hard and do not feel like I'm building on the skills I need to continue, so like. Uh.

My dad is being. Abrasive.

Mom and grandma are very angry lately

Housemate is also angry, about things i thought we were on good terms about, so I am stressed because like,, are we okay?

Can't find my eye mask :(

Yoga? Like...restorative yoga? Need to track down my PT stuff. And. Do it.

Need to put the stickers on my license plates....oops...

Still haven't found my antidepressants! Yay!

Do I want to store my stuff in open bins, or with lids? Which stuff needs spill protection and stacking capability and which stuff needs easy access?

How to earn money without..chaos

Gotta go to the pet store tomorrow. Have to compile my list of pet store items i need. Uhhhhhhhhhh

Also I have an essay due tomorrow that I've barely started. So. Wooooooo

Kt tape for supporting arches / inner ankles? I keep messing up my ankles, and part of it is walking wrong because I don't have the energy to engage the muscles in my feet/legs right to like, avoid injury, and part of it is I just need new shoes inserts. But i wear slippers a lot and they do not have arch support and it hurts. PT to help with this also but Where Is It

Family can't seem to get dish soap I can use, so I've just been having to avoid washing anything by hand, or being in the general kitchen area while anyone uses the stuff, which has led to more of my dishes sitting out, and more conflict over dishes. Lovely.

How hard is it for parents to learn they have to respect boundaries? Very hard, apparently. And you're supposed to just sort of remind people, and explain, over and over and over but like at this point my self worth is actually pretty good and the lifetime of proof that they do not want to listen? That's making me want to stop trying. Like, if you're not going to respect my boundaries I'm just not going to involve you in my life. I'm not talking to my dad right now because of this. Maybe I'll decide to lay things out to him, again and again and again again, maybe not. And I'm comfortable saying that's on him.

How to drink water

Am I dehydrated or are my hands just completely callous now. My fingertips have such hard skin. Why? It's uncomfortable. This is part of why I've been biting them.

Also testosterone. Been having a lot of trouble doing my shots, because anxiety and physical freakouts, but also not feeling super urgent about it. Which I'm realizing may be a sign i need to look at the effects so far and the possible effects of continuing, and see what they make me feel. It's possible I'm where I want to be as far as T, and don't really want to stay on it. A big thing for me is a deeper voice, so it seems time to take a look at whether I like my voice where it is or want to see if it'll drop any more. Etc etc

Miss my lil sisters

Saw a lot of cool rocks today. Huge (like hand sized) ammonite for $28. May go back and buy one because. Wow.

Want to plant food plants

Also my natives. Whole garden plot standing empty with a bunch of stuff waiting in nursery pots, needing to go in the ground. Because I can't get out of bed. Love that. Stuff is dying out there, I'm dying in here, there's a poetry to it and I do not want to romanticize suffering so I will say this: I brought a Bucket full of moss home a month ago and planted it and now go outside sometimes to drench my moss and it is very rewarding because the stuff is just so green. Incredible. When the rest of my plants are finally in the ground, that feeling will only intensify. But, for now, the moss is very nice.

Made a glow in the dark bead lizard from memory during therapy yesterday, and I love him. Also, still struggling with bringing up autism and psychosis topics with my therapist. Still very worried about. Things. Would like to get a new person? But sometimes she is helpful? And we have a routine. It's very hard to break the routine. Maybe I can set some time aside during the summer, to figure out what to do there.

Term ends in a couple weeks. The task of catching up, of passing, seems impossible. I really need to pass my courses. I'm on academic warning, because my GPA is lower than it should be, and if I can pass all of my classes this term I can get off academic warning but otherwise I'm not sure what will happen to my financial aid.

My phone is playing the same 50-100 songs on shuffle and I don't even particularly like most of them and it is very strange

Got my face wipes! Hooray, i can wash my face again

Been eating too much sugar in general. It's making my joints hurt more, and the nausea

Pet a dog the other day. I miss that. It would be really nice to have a dog in the house again. The exuberance, the cuddles, the tail wagging, the walks... I'd really like that. Maybe once I'm out in my room, tanks and catio built and everyone is situated, I'll look into getting a dog instead of a cat next. Was planning on holding off in case I'm not physically able to take them out on walks and such, but I've been pretty successful at doing this job, and I think that my main hurdle for walking really is motivation. Dog walking is a strong motivator for me. Best to start by fostering, or just do Wag, for a while though. I'm feeling overwhelmed with my current responsibilities, and here I am talking about getting a dog. Good job, me

How do you get wax off of somewhat water soluble rocks? My housemate broke my lava lamp on some of my rock collection and I am not sure how to get some of them clean without damage.

I am...pretty sure there are collared doves nesting over my room but it seems they're less common around here than I thought? But they are..pretty distinctive. Like if I'm wrong, what are those birds. Some very distinctly colored feral pigeons? Who are nesting here, in a tree, without their flock, and who happen to have pretty much the exact same pattern?

Probably should go to the dollar store and get some bins for organizing

Been wanting to keep a bin by the door and stock it with stim/fidget stuff people can just .have ..like extras of some of my favorites and other things i can get ahold of, to offer to my friends who haven't really had the chance to explore the world of stim toys

Hands are really just not doing great the last several weeks. Arthritis type pain cropping up more and more in all the little joints, making it hurt more to write, type, or just use them for whatever. Coordination isn't great because of that distraction, and because my hands/arms are slow to respond and kinda weak. Most people would say I'm not using them enough but I've been doing 15ish hours of manual labor per week, so maybe it's the other direction? More water would help. If only it wasn't so heavy.

I haven't taken a single shower since I started my job. Which was March 29th. That's not great.

Practiced parallel parking today. 10/10 still very bad at it.

Having anxiety that my friends think I'm lying about things, faking, and are watching me to see if I'll slip up. So that sucks. Can either talk about that directly or indirectly, or just shut up about those things until I can get my brain under control again. I'm not sure right now if the reassurance would work as a reality check or make me believe it more, right now, so might hold off on the talking bit for a little while.

Saw, smelled, picked a couple pretty roses. Good times

At this point I'm just trying to list all my thoughts so that maybe I'll be able to sleep and not worry I'll forget

My mom has put her spider plant on the deck, and it has maybe five living leaves. I have no idea how she killed such a well established spider plant, the last time I saw it it was so happy. Did she stick it in a corner and forget to water it? Whatever happened, it is now in the Plant ER, so hopefully I'll be able to...help get it on the up and up again

Leo is such a pretty noodle. He's so pretty. He's posing. Hi, baby boy.

Oh, he saw me moving around and decided to come say hi. Sorry little man, i did not mean to disturb you. Please resume lounging. I can't bring you out right now, I'm trying to sleep.

Also, terrariums. Water features. Need to ask. Someone. The one who was making that super cool garter snake enclosure and blogging the progress? With the lazy river and pool? About maintenance on that kind of setup. My milk snake really enjoys water, and I'd love to put a water feature in his tank. But I'm unclear on how to keep it clean, or honestly where to start. Don't want any huge falls or anything, though it actually may not make the humidity too high if I did maybe a small drip wall into the pool? That seems like something he would enjoy, and a good way to support different types of plants. But like, that's the thing, it's bioactive and I haven't done that before and no amount of research is ever enough.

Oh, Shogun has a dirt hat. How cute. I love when they do that

See, this is the thing. My snakes make me so happy. All three of them are actually hanging out where I can see them from my bed right now, and it's really nice. I want their lives to be the best possible, and I think I have the resources to do that. Which is so exciting. Now if only my brain and body would cooperate. It would hurt quite a lot to have to re-home any of them, but the most important thing is their health and quality of life, you know? If I can't get my act together somewhat, it may be that one or all of them would be better off with another keeper. I don't know. It's just, i talk about all these tank ideas and all this husbandry standards stuff but how much of it actually gets applied to my own animals whose lives are in my hands? How well am I caring for them, really?

Oh!!! My red thread! I thought that was gone forever.

Anyway, please do not worry. My snakes are healthy. I pay attention, and watch for signs of illness, and they're okay. There will always be places to improve, and the water is a big one, but most of the time i change their water out frequently, I'm just worried because of bad depression and fatigue times, you know? I'm working on making the most self sustaining systems i can, in part so that I am sure they'll be okay if I mess up sometimes. Just saying this because I hope you guys don't feel like you need to worry about the welfare of my pets. They're okay, i just always want better for them, is all.

Anyway, the sun is coming up and I should probably go to sleep. So uh, thanks for reading, if you read all of this randomness, and if anyone has thoughts or advice on anything in this post, i would welcome it! Good night!

#mine #long post #snakes #pets #food m #uhhhhhhhhhhhh whatever else needs tagging

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idkanymoreaboutlife · 4 years

Text

Soo I’ve never written for anything but anime and some tv shows, but I wanted to try my hand at writing some Dewey Finn fanfiction. He’s definitely out of character and I think I’ve definitely could’ve done better but I think with writing him more it’ll get better. Sorry for the ranting, anyways here’s what I wrote. Also, I’m on mobile so I can’t do the whole ‘read more’, I apologize for that.

Goth girl next door

Dewey couldn’t stand his neighbor. Every Friday-Sunday night at 10 o’clock loud, heavy metal music come from the thin walls next door. He absolutely hated them, granted he never met the person before, but, from the lack of sleep every weekend for the past 2 months and the constant bass thumping into his head at 12 am, he has a right to hold hatred to his neighbor. Don’t get him wrong, at first he enjoyed the music coming from the apartment. But it became apparent that this neighbor only listened to same genre; heavy metal. Dewey didn’t mind at first, he recognized a few artists like Alice In Chains ana Godsmack, but then the screaming came. God, he couldn’t nt stand hearing those deep, growling songs piercing his ears at midnight. Yes, he’s a lover of music and a self proclaimed rock god, but..it became annoying to hear the same music every weekend.

Monday morning came and Dewey sat at his desk, nursing his 3rd cup of coffee in the past 2 hours. As the kids filed into the room they passed concerned glances at Dewey. Sure, they’re used to seeing him tired and out of it on some mornings but today he looked more haggard than ever. His usually messy hair was in more of disarray, heavy bags weighed underneath his eyes and yawns kept escaping his mouth every few minutes. The kids sat in their seats and talked amongst themselves about the shell of their normally upbeat teacher. Summer took charge of the discussion, asking the others what could possibly have their teacher become like this.

“Maybe he got kicked out of his apartment?” Katie mused.

“No, he would be stressed but he still would’ve been active.” Summer commented back

“Girl troubles?” Zack spouted out, almost everyone gave a soft giggle.

“Oh definitely not that.” Summer replied.

“The last girl trouble he had was with Ms. Mullins and we all know how that went.” Alicia said, rolling her eyes.

“Well I don’t know what it could be, he never acted like this.” Summer huffed out, falling back into her seat, crossing her arms.

“Why don’t we ask him?” Tomika spoke up, her soft voice filling the silence that fell upon the students. They agreed and the students piled up to Dewey’s desk. Summer taking the lead at the front. He looked up from his notes for the day, giving a small tired smile at them.

“What’s up guys? You just gotta give me like 5 minutes and then we’ll start.” Summer put her hands on the desk, leaning forward.

“You’re acting strange, what’s wrong?” She asked, a stern lay over her voice. He gave her an odd look.

“What? Nothings wrong” ,he gave a weak chuckle, “ I had a long night with papers.”

“You’re terrible at lying Mr. Finn.” Summer said, rolling her eyes. He gave a sigh and rubbed his eyes, giving a yawn before speaking.

“My neighbor plays heavy metal every weekend all night long and I can’t sleep because of it.”

“Why don’t you just talk with them? Communication is key!” Katie said.

“Yeah! Whenever my parents get into an argument, they talk it out.” Billy chimes in. Dewey chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

“I never spoke with them before, ever since they moved in they’ve been doing this. No one else has compliments so.”

“You still have to talk with them or else it’s never going to be resolved.” Summer interjected. Dewey nodded and gave them a tired smile.

“Well I guess after class I’ll have a chat with them.” The students being satisfied with his answer, went back to their seats.

When school ended Dewey headed back to his van, getting into the drivers side and putting his messenger bag on the cluttered passenger seat. Sighing he started the van, turning on the radio to the classic rock channel and pulling out of he parking lot, back to his apartment. He drove slower than he normally would, not excited about heading home and confronting his neighbor about their music habits. He went over in his head how he’ll talk to them.

“Hey I’m your next door neighbor, your music is shit..no that sounds harsh. Hey I’m Dewey Finn, your neighbor, could you like..not play metal at ungodly hours?..no, no that’s too forward.” He sighed to himself, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove, trying to come up with a good starter.

“Maybe just start a conversation? And lead into it? Yeah that sounds good Dewey, wing it man.” He gave himself a quick affirmation nod and pulled into his parking space at the front of the building. Turning the ignition off he grabbed his bag and left the car, heading up to his apartment.

He stood at the door to his neighbors, amping himself up to knock at the dark wood door. Shaking the nervous jitters out in his hand he raises his fist, rapping on the door a few soft times. He hears footsteps drawing near the door, the chain unhooking from the lock and the door opening some. He went to speak but his words got caught in his throat. There stood a girl, mid 20s with knotted hair tied up in a bun on the top of her head, black smudged eyeshadow and eyeliner, smeared from not being taken off the night before. She wore an off the shoulder long sleeved shirt, some metal band plastered on the front, the hint of pajama shorts peeking out from underneath it. She stared blankly at Dewey.

“Can I help you?” She asked, her voice carrying into the hallway. He snapped himself out of his daze and closed his mouth, offering a quick smile.

“Hey um, im your neighbor uh Dewey, Dewey Finn..” he said, giving a small wave. She gave him a once over of his long sleeved yellow dress shirt and way too snug vest. She sighed.

“Okay, I’m y/n. What do you want.”

“Um oh you play your music uh really loud on the weekends and uh I’m a teacher, and I would really appreciate it if you didn’t play it..so loud..or as much.” She blinked at him.

“I don’t think so.” She went to close the door but he caught it with his foot, she gave him a glare of annoyance.

“We-well why not? I think it’s pretty reasonable thing to ask somebody.”

“Listen, I have work in a few hours, you’re more than welcome to go to the landlord and file your complaint. But I don’t have time for this.” She huffed and moved to kick his foot away, he stopped her by talking again.

“I get it, I do but I need my sleep but I can’t get any if you’re playing your music, horrible taste by the way, at 3 am!” His voice rose uncharacteristically, becoming annoyed by this woman being immature.

“I’m so sorry for that, let me just throw out my guitar and speaker. God forbid I have a hobby.” Her eyes rolled and she let out a dry chuckle. He stared at her, guitar?

“You play the guitar?” He spoke near a whisper.

“Yeah? That’s what I just said. Listen, can you leave now?”

“Oh um yeah, but uh can I see your setup?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Seems like a second date question.” Chuckling to herself she opened her door up more. Before he could walk in, she stopped him.

“Five minutes, that’s it.” He nodded and followed her into the small space, closing the door behind him. Walking more into the apartment, he saw a black guitar with stickers covering it, on a stand near the window. An amp next to it with as many stickers at the guitar. Her apartment was relatively clean, save for the coffee table being littered with takeout boxes and beer bottles. He walked over to the guitar and brushed his hand over the neck.

“Is this a Fender Stratocaster?” He looked at her in amazement. She nodded and leaned herself on the couch arm.

“Yep, my dad got it for me a couple years back.”

“Wow, I’m amazed.” He looked back at the guitar, looking at all the stickers that covered the once mahogany body.

“Do you play?” She asked him, coming over to stand on the other side of him. He nodded.

“I was in a band before, now I teach kids about rock theory and how to play classic.”

“Do you wanna try it out?” He looked at her like a kid in a candy store.

“Really?”

“Yeah, knock yourself out.” She pulled the amp in and connected the cord to the body of the guitar, messing with the dials on the amp.

“Go ahead.” He picked up he guitar and out the strap over his shoulders, strumming out a few cords to test, smiling at the sound that resounded from it. He plucked out a few more strings before strumming into the opening cords to Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin. She watched him with a smile, arms crossed as she watched him getting into the zone. His body started swaying to the music, heading the vocals in his head as he played on. As he finished the first 3 minutes of it, he stopped, putting the guitar back on the stand.

“You’re good, I’ll give you that.” She smiled at him. He gave a small blush and scratched the back of his head.

“Oh you know, I dabble here and there.” They gave a soft laugh together. “Sooo, you think you can tone down the music on the weekends?” He asked, puppy dog eyes in play. She gave a roll of her eyes and sighed.

“I can definitely try and tone it down, no promises.” She walked him back to the front door, opening it for him as he stepped back out of the apartment.

“Great! Um..I mean thanks, I appreciate that.” He smiled and turned to walk away but paused, turning to look at her.

“What time do you finish your shift tonight?” She gave him an odd look.

“We close at 12, I’ll be home at 1.”

“Cool, you wanna grab a drink afterwards? I know a great place.” He smiled at her as she stared at him. Giving a nod.

“Sounds good, it’s a date.” She said her goodbyes and closed the door. He broke out into a grin, giving a small fist bump to the air as he went down the hall back to his apartment. Definitely worth the sleepless nights he thought.

#dewey finn x reader #school of rock the musical #dewey fin #alex brightman #reader insert

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realfuurikuuri · 4 years

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Chapters: 12/? Fandom: Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Mao Mao/Tanya Keys, Mao mao/badgerclops

MissingArm!AU: When escaping the cave, it wasn't his tail that got crushed. In exchange for his innocence, he gained a sordid past. The Pure Heart Valley seemed like a good place to escape. To start a new life with a new family to forge a new identity. However, when the past rears its ugly head Mao Mao's forced to step up or be put down.

AN: We're back after a brief interlude, but here is the next chapter. The biggest deliberation writing this one was the ending. I was wondering if I should make it a new chapter, instead, I decided to include it in this one. Enjoy. The song of the day is RUn the Jewels #4. RTJ is a rap duo that released the new album for free on their website. Give it a download. Not that it has anything to do with the chapter I just love it. As always credits to @Spookylovesboba and enjoy the chapter.

Direct Link to chapter 13: XXXXX

Mao Mao sat on the couch. He had a book in his hands, but his eyes glazed over the words. Occasionally, he stole glances at the door, realized his mistake, and went back to the book he wasn’t reading. He considered looking up from the book, maybe time would go faster if he watched cartoons with Adorabat. He quickly realized that watching What’s New Lucky Ducky would only make him more impatient. Maybe he should try seeing what Badgerclops was up to? Granted, if it was anything technical, which it always was, he wouldn’t be able to help.

Ding-Dong!

Mao Mao looked to the monster alarm before remembering that Badgerclops installed a doorbell. He leaped to his feet and swung open the door, swiftly swiping the package from Mail-Mole’s hands. He set it down on the table and unsheathed a single claw.

“Hey, Mao Mao.”

He swung around to find Adorbat standing behind him.

“What’s in the package,” she asked, flying up to his shoulder.

“Oh. Its-,” Mao Mao hesitated, he was about to say nothing off of pure reflex, but he looked down at the package. He wasn’t at home anymore, he wasn’t bound by family either. There was no reason to hide it.

“It’s a… how to say this… a Rubber Ducky toy.”

“A toy! I wanna see! I wanna see!”

Mao Mao quickly snatched the contents from the box, holding it high in the air out of Adorabat’s reach.

“This isn’t just a toy. It was expensive. Be careful with it, okay?”

“Fine,” she groaned.

Inside the package was another package. A box that was one of those hard, plastic clamshell things with a small egg-shaped thing sealed inside. He brought it down to Adorabat’s eye level as she began to read it over.

“Virtual Pet? Hey, I have one of these.”

“No, no, no. You may have one of the gatchis, maybe a rerelease, but this is different. Check this out,” Mao Mao pointed to a small worn sticker on the back. “See 1988. A sealed, first-generation, blue egg Ducky-Gatchi.”

“Wow. 1988… that’s almost as old as you,” she said.

“Yeah- wait, how old do you think I am?”

His question never got answered as their attention was pulled away by Badgerclops. “Hey, Mao, someone used one of your pointy things as a screwdriver and broke it,” he called out as he came up the stairs.

“You did what!”

Mao Mao inhaled sharply. He’d learned his lesson after yesterday’s stroke, besides he didn’t have health insurance.

“Watcha’ got there?” Badgerclops leaned in for a closer look.”You buy Adorabat a new toy?”

“No, I didn’t buy it for Adorabat,” Mao Mao said in a small voice,” I bought it for myself.”

“Aren’t you a little too old to be playing with toys?”

“What? Are you crazy? I’m not playing with this! I spent $1000 on this!”

Oops.

Badgerclops slowly turned to Mao Mao. “Does this have anything to do with your Lucky Ducky obsession?”

“What? I don’t have a- haha, is it getting hot in here? I’m going to step out to get some air.”

Mao Mao was almost out the door when Badgerclops’ robotic arm grabbed him by the cape and pulled him back to the table. “Why did you spend $1000 on a Ducky-Gatchi?”

“It’s not just a Ducky-Gatchi. It's from the first run of the product. The Ducky-Gatchis were released in eight colors with eight shapes. There’s supposed to be roughly a 6435 chance of any specific combination, but a manufacturer’s error made blue eggs even rarer than that. This blue egg gatchi is still sealed in the plastic, and it's been taken care of really well. The clamshell packaging hasn’t even started to yellow.”

Badgerclops frowned and crossed his arms. He held it for a few seconds before relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine,” he groaned,” just don’t spend so much money on this stuff.”

“Hot dog! I knew you’d come around,” Mao Mao slapped Badgerclops on the back before going back to the Ducky-Gatchi,” still have to find a place to display this, though.”

“Hey Adorabat. Don't you--,” Mao Mao looked around to find Adorabat nowhere in sight.

“Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know She was here a moment ago,” Badgerclops.

“Hey, Mao Mao,” her voice called from the other room,” I told you I had one.”

* * *

Badgerclops watched Mao Mao head off into the bedroom. He picked up the Ducky-Gatchi he left on the table. This thing was definitely not worth $1000. He would have been madder if Mao Mao hadn’t looked so happy. The smile was different from the normal ones; it didn’t have any boastful pride, reckless ambition, or ego-saving denial. Badgerclops had traveled with Mao Mao for years yet this is the first time he’s seen a smile of indulgent joy. It was a good look on him and Badgerclops knew he ought to do what he can to make it more common. Although, Mao Mao could stand to learn some moderation.

He held the Duck-Gatchi up and did his best to see why he’d spend $1000 on it. Value is a subjective thing, so what value did this have to Mao Mao? It likely had something to do with his childhood (every odd thing about him did) so how did this relate back? Badgerclops first thought was Mao Mao’s father. He wasn’t like how Mao Mao described him. Badgerclops mind began to wander back to the night when Mao Mao had a stroke. And the night he met the root of Mao Mao’s problems.

* * *

Again, Badgerclops was spending the night in Camille’s tower. Again, he sat off to the side to watch Honey and Camille work. Again, he found himself powerless. The only thing different this time was that he did his best to ignore the infuriating metallic tap! tap! tap! from Mao Mao’s dad who crossed his arms and wouldn't stop tapping his finger. Badgerclops stole a glance at him.

He could sort of see the resemblance between Mao Mao and his father. Shin had a more angled face and grayer fur, not to mention those golden eyes. First time he’s heard of a cat having eyes like that. There was little resemblance between him and his grandson. Granted, there wasn’t that much resemblance between Jǐngtì and his own father. The black and brown patterned fur, tufted arms, white stomach, and blue eyes were certainly from Jǐngtì’s mother. He only shared the round face and pointy ears with his father’s side. Shin was impressively tall. Neither Jǐngtì nor Mao Mao had that. Shin’s made Mao Mao look downright pathetic compared to him. Then again he would look pathetic compared to anyone when he was lying on a table.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

It’s a good thing that Adorabat wasn’t here, although he wasn’t sure if they’d make the play. Should he take her home after the play, or stop by with her in tow. Should he leave Mao Mao to attend the play alone and leave Mao Mao here, or should he wait here? It’d hurt to not have either of them show up for the play, but she would understand, right? Maybe he could

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Maybe he could talk to the teacher and pull Adorabat out of the play. This is an emergency.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Could he not be so fucking annoying? Badgerclops sighed, trying to resume the line of thought, but found it fleeting. He was racking his brain until he was just trying to block Shin out, yet he kept tap! tap! tapping! away.

Eventually, it was too much. Badgerclops turned to Shin,” could you possibly be quiet for one second,” he snapped.

Shin seemed almost confused for a second, then he seemed indignant. “Excuse me for being worried about my son,” he shot back.

“For the first time,” Badgerclops mumbled.

“What was that, boy? I can’t hear you from down there.”

“I said that its a funny time to suddenly start caring about him!”

Shin stumbled back like he’d been hit in the chest. “That’s… that’s preposterous. Where would you even get that idea?” His words were shaky, lacking that artificial confident inflection that his son copied.

“I don’t know, maybe I’ve actually paid attention to anything he says for more than five minutes?”

"You're talking like you my son better than I do."

Before they could get any louder, they were interrupted by a loud “ahem” that turned their heads. Honey was pointing at the door with that placid look on her face; The mute’s message was heard loud in clear. Shin held the door open for Badgerclops as they took it into the hall outside. They didn’t start arguing again. The rising tension gave way to a sickening sense of shame. They both retreated to their own corners, to their own minds.

“What do you know about us,” Shin mumbled under his breath.

“Enough,” Badgerclops answered back.

Shin looked up, confused before he realized he was thinking out loud. He didn’t say anything back, instead, he dismissed Badgerclops with a grumble.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You saw him back there? Why’d you attack your son?”

“What are you talking about? I never attacked him. He attacked me!”

“How do you explain the broken bones, the bleeding, the bruising, the three-inch hole in his side?”

Shin didn’t snap back. His face went pale and it looked like he was about to vomit. “I.. have done no such thing.”

“Then who did? You were the only person at the house after that.”

“I don’t know. That’s not what happened?”

“Then what did happen?”

Shin reared up like he was going to say something back before his shoulders slumped as his gaze went to the floor. “I.. my wife said that I should visit, so I did. When I did show up Mao Mao was bleeding all over the place. I didn’t know what happened. He.. had some glass in his side. I got it out and then… I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

“We… got into an argument. A bad one. He chased me around the house, told me I was a grandfather, and then told me he didn’t want to see me again.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes! That’s what happened! I learned that my own son hates me more than anything in the world. There! Are you happy?”

Badgerclops examine Shin. His flicked back ears, averted gaze, thee closed hands, and receding posture. It didn’t seem like he was lying. Which begs the question, what happened next? The timeline he had down states that he met Jǐngtì , which is where the glass came from. After that, he met Shin, who removed the glass, so how did he get the 3-inch hole in his side? Who else could have possibly visited?

“I think I should be going.”

“I don't think I’m the first thing my son wants to see when he wakes up,” Shin justified. It was aimed at Badgerclops but he could tell Shin was talking to himself.

Badgerclops was felt the urge to stop him. Not because he thought Shin was wrong, but because Shin was the only lead he had. He looked to Shin’s hands. They found the missing finger, so Shin was certainly there, but those claw marks didn’t fit those. They didn’t fit Mao Mao or Jǐngtì’s, so those claw marks belonged to someone else?

He had to rule out Shin, so Badgerclops let him go, watching him trudge down the hall.

Ironic, he thought becoming working in the Pure Heart valley would be tedious work, but here he is doing it of his own violation. Maybe Mao Mao would remember something when he woke up. He had to find out who. Who did this?

Badgerclops set the question aside, returning to the present. He’s dwelled on that question for hours already, and he’d dwell on it some more but right now he set the box back on the table. He titled his head to the other room to get a better look. Mao Mao and Adorabat have been in there a while. Long enough for him to dwell at least.

* * *

“Mao Mao,” he heard Badgerclops call out.

“Yeah,” he answered back, not taking his eyes off the screen.

He had a well-worn ducky-gatchi in his hands. The plastic had begun to chip, there was a scratch on the screen, and the sound chip or speakers must’ve broken cause it made no sound. Adorabat quietly watched Mao Mao over his shoulder. Mao Mao could hear Badgerclops’ heavy footsteps as he approached.

“What’re you doing,” he asked.

Mao Mao shook the ducky-gatchi in his hands. “She actually had one. Though it's out of package and heavily used so it’d be $300 at most.”

“I’d hate to interrupt you having fun, but we gotta make lunch.”

Mao Mao was going to disagree. It should be noon maybe a little after, but the pit in his stomach said otherwise. He might've played this longer than he thought. He passed it to Adorabat to follow Badgerclops to the Kitchen.

“What are we making,” he asked.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

Mao Mao paused. “What’s up,” he asked.

“Relax,” Badgerclops said,” you’re not in trouble or anything. I just want to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Why would anything not be okay,” he deflected.

"I just want to know why you bought the ducky-gatchi."

"Oh, that was just... something I've always wanted, but never actually got."

"Does it have to with your dad?"

"Yeah," he sighed," papa -er, Shin- never really approved of my... Lucky Ducky thing, so now I'm not involved with him anymore I thought-"

Badgerclops placed a hand on his shoulder," don't worry I'm not mad at you. Just try to be more careful with money."

Ring! Ring! Ring! The monster alarm blared on the wall.

“Yeah, thanks” Mao Mao,” Adorabat c’mon we got work to do.”

* * *

Mao Mao rode into the Valley Plaza only to be stricken with a bit of disappointment when he saw what it was. “You know you shoulda installed a second alarm during renovations.”

“Do we really need one though?”

“Well, one of us could be halfway done making lunch instead of dealing with this mess.”

Mao Mao pointed his thumb at the huddled, shouting mass of limbs that were the Sky Pirates' regular arguments. It got to the point they were actually kicking up a cloud of dust like this was a cartoon. Although… someone was missing.

He patted Badgerclops’ shoulder. “Hey, have you seen-”

“2nd store window. Three houses left.”

Mao Mao followed the instructions to find his son, lounging on windowsill, looking down on everything dispassionately. Almost everything. When he caught his eye he turned away. To think today started so well.

“That’s enough!”

Mao Mao turned to Orangusnake right in time to keep himself from being cleaved in two. He caught the strike with Geraldine locking blades for a second as the fight began, but something was different this time. Orangusnake’s blows were quicker, heavier. Each hit shook his sword like a bell. What was wrong? What was different?

Mao Mao blocked a strike that sent him crashing through police barriers. When did he set these up? He didn’t have time to think about it. Orangusnake was silhouetted in the sun with a war-ax brandished. Mao Mao stepped back to get out the way but stumbled. His foot was caught in something. A hole? What was a- oh no.

Clang!

Mao Mao had blocked the strike perfectly yet it sent tremors down his body and forced a web of cracks to snake across the ground. The police barriers were there for a reason. A reason he needed to address before someone got caught in it. The ground shook and shuddered as it began to give way, plunging Mao Mao and Orangusnake into the dark depths of the sinkhole.

#MMHOPH #Mao Mao #Adorabat #Badgerclops #Orangusnake #Fanfic

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redwoodwrites · 4 years

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Relativity Falls Season 1 Episode 1: Tourist Trap

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12579416/chapters/28652568

A/N:Welcome, one and all, to Relativity Falls! Here you will find the adventures of a certain dynamic duo as they spend the summer at their Grauntie Mabel's utterly tacky tourist trap. Updates will be every Friday, and after each episode there will be a “Short”, a much shorter original fanfiction which occurs in the time between the episodes. See you in a few days, and enjoy All Hallow's Eve! Warning: *This fanfiction may trigger feels, warm fuzzies, and certain amounts of deja vu. *May cause minor amounts of time travel (forward only) *Author does not claim responsibility for any sightings of ghosts, triangles, or woodpeckers that may or may not occur during or after the reading of this text. Enjoy!

“AAAAAAAH!”

The golf cart plunged over a cliff, punched straight through a billboard, and landed with a squeal on the road below. The two boys in the cart held on for dear life.

“WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE!” Stanley screamed.

Ford jerked the wheel, fishtailing around a hairpin turn. “Hold on!”

The ground shook with an ominous thumping.

Stanley twisted around, gripping the seat's back so hard his knuckles went white. “Floor it, Ford, it's gaining on us!”

A huge monster rose behind them, throwing a massive shadow over the road. The thing was over thirty feet tall, a crazy conglomeration of glaring eyes, sharp teeth, and bright red hats.

It ripped up a redwood as easily as a dandelion, took aim, and threw. Ford looked up and gasped as the tree soared right over their heads, landing so hard it bounced on the road in front of them.

“Look out!”

Ford jerked the wheel. The golf cart careened, tipping left, then right, skidding crazily. The tree's huge trunk loomed like a brick wall. They braced themselves against the dash and screamed.

A few days earlier...

The bus pulled away from the stop sign, leaving Ford and his brother standing alone on the sidewalk. Stanley had his sleeves rolled up, revealing the superhero-themed band aids on his arms, and the suitcase sitting next to him was covered with half-chewed gum.

Ford was wearing his signature aviator jacket, his notebook sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans. His suitcase was covered with stickers of ghosts and monsters.

Ford shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around expectantly. The town's main road was lined with a few stores, most of them restaurants, plus some arcades, a couple of hardware stores, and a grocery store. Aside from a few random pedestrians, the street was empty.

“She does know we're coming, right?” he asked anxiously.

“Dude, who cares?” Stanley put a foot on his suitcase and struck a heroic pose, shading his eyes like an explorer in a new land. He peered at the redwoods that surrounded the town. “Did you even see this place? It's got nothing but forest for miles! It's the perfectly place for buried treasure!”

Ford rolled his eyes, grinning. “Stanley, we don't have treasure yet.”

“Not yet we don't, but I'll bet you anything we'll find it!” Just then Stan's stomach rumbled. He looked down at it. “Right. First things first. Food time!”

Ford opened his mouth to say they should wait to be picked up, but his stomach cut him off. It had been an eight-hour bus ride and he was seriously hungry. He looked around.

“I think I saw a diner around here...”

“There!” Stanley pointed. There was a restaurant set back against the woods, with a flickering neon sign that read Greasy's Diner.

“Sounds...greasy. We don't even have any money,” Ford pointed out. “You spent our food allowance buying those dumb scratch cards. And all they had on 'em were football players with omelets.”

Stanley shrugged cheerfully. “Don't worry, Sixer, the puppy-dog face works every time! Race you to the door!” He ran into the street.

There was a roar and a screech of tires. Ford yelled. Stanley jumped back, narrowly avoiding a bright purple motorcycle. Stan lay on the ground, shaking a little, and Ford ran to help him up. He glared at the driver.

“Hey, watch where you're going!” he growled.

The rider, a heavy-set woman in a blue blazer and pink skirt, revved the engine. “'Scuse you,” the lady grumped, her voice muffled. “What were ya tryin' to do, kid? That is not how you paint the town red.”

“Guh-guh-guh,” Stanley stammered.

The rider paused, then flicked up the visor. She blinked. “Stanley?”

He stared at her. “Huh?”

“It is you!” She whipped off the helmet. Her gray hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she had a heart-shaped face with light green eyes that glowed with warmth. “And you must be Stanford!” she said to Ford. “You two have grown so much I didn't even recognize you!”

The twins gaped.

“Grauntie Mabel?” Ford finally asked.

“The one and only! Hop aboard, kids, we got a lot of work to do at the Shack!”

They looked at the bike. It wasn't just purple. It was glittery purple, with a chrome finish and a matching side car so rusted it looked ready to disintegrate on the spot.

“Um, there's just one seat,” Ford said.

“Meh, you're each, like, half of an adult! So together you'll be fine!”

A slow grin spread across Stanley's face. “She's got you there, Sixer!” He scrambled to his feet. “So you're really Grauntie Mabel? I don't remember you being so fat.”

“And I don't remember you being so ugly,” she said cheerfully. “Now grab your gear and get in, time is money!”

They hauled their suitcases into the sidecar. It was so small they had to sit with their knees pressed to their chest and they couldn't even take a deep breath. She tossed them a couple of helmets and then took off with a roar, tearing down the quiet road at a decidedly illegal speed.

The bike's engine was too loud for talking, but the town had sights enough to keep them occupied. There was a church, a deserted convenience store, a junkyard, and a gigantic mall. Ford caught his brother staring at the mall, mouthing “babes” with a familiar gleam in his eye. Ford laughed.

The buildings petered out as they turned onto Gopher Road. The forest, which was always in the background of the town, now loomed up around them. The redwoods spiced the air with a sharp, earthy smell. Beams of sunlight sliced the forest with bars of yellow light. Motes of dust and quick-winged birds darted through the canopy, and wind rustled the treetops, which were high enough to touch the clouds.

But the trees grew so thick that they cast deep shadows starting just a few feet from the road. More than once Ford thought he saw movement in those shadows – things that scuttled and creeped and seemed to be watching them as they passed. He shivered.

The sudden appearance of the clearing drove the thought from his mind. Mostly because of what was in the clearing.

A two-story, steeple-roofed cabin stood in the middle of the lawn, completely covered in hot pink glitter, right up to the weathervane (which, instead of the cardinal directions, had the letters W, H, A, and T). Under the gaudy sparkles, he could make out a large sign reading “MYSTERY SHACK” positioned on the roof, with a dozen smaller advertisements above the front and side entrances. An enormous pig lounged on the front porch. A sign next to it read, 'Picture With Pig - $50!' A Native American totem pole was rose a few yards away, but it was hard to tell what the animals were, since all of them were wearing sweaters of various neon colors.

“Um, wow,” Stan said dubiously, as soon as the engine died.

“Don't mind the glitter,” Mabel said cheerfully. “The girls and I just went a little nuts on our last sleepover.”

“Sleepover?” Stanley muttered to Ford. “But she's, like, grandma-age.”

They got out of the sidecar, grabbed their suitcases, and followed their great-aunt. The pig opened one eye and oinked at them, but otherwise didn't move.

The inside, at least, was less sparkly. They'd entered through the Mystery Shack's Gift Shop. Wood floors, wood walls, and a wood ceiling gave off a definite 'cabin' vibe. Most of the walls were covered in overpriced merchandise and taxidermy monstrosities. There were some clothing racks on the right, next to some tables loaded with snow globes and Grauntie Mabel bobbleheads. The back wall had a vending machine and two doorways, one marked “Employees Only” and the other marked “Museum”. The cash register was on their left, under a stuffed bear head with a narwhal horn glued to its brow. A red-haired teenager in a flannel shirt sat behind the register, his face jammed into a Manly Muscles magazine.

Their great-aunt stood in the center of the shop, legs planted wide and hands at her hips. “Alright, kids, welcome to the Mystery Shack!” she said, gesturing grandly. “Meet our first underpaid employee: Flannel Man!”

“It's 'Boyish Dan',” the teen grunted, without glancing up.

“I'll call you that when you stop reading at work!” Mabel sang. “Flannel Man, meet my great-nephews...my grephews?...Stanley and Stanford Pines!”

“Just 'Ford,'” Ford said, at the same time Stan said, “Just 'Stan'.”

“We also have a mechanic around here somewhere,” Mabel told them. “She's usually fixing things, or breaking them, or both at the same time...oh, Maria! Perfect timing!”

The Employees Only door opened, and a woman in her early twenties stepped through. She wore a faded green hat over her curly dark brown hair, a size-XXXL Mystery Shack shirt, and khaki shorts. One hand gripped a tool box, and the other held a broom.

Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Ria, this is Stan and Ford! My grephews! I told you they'd be coming today.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ria said politely. “Mrs. Pines, I fixed the pipes, but I might've broken the copy machine.”

“Oh, that wasn't you, it's been broken for ages,” Mabel assured her. “Anyway, you two boys go throw your stuff in the attic, and then come back down. I've got a tour bus coming at eleven hundred sharp and I need this place to look spic 'n' span!”

“Wait-wait-wait,” Stan said quickly, holding up his hands. “You mean we're gonna do chores?! But we're on summer vacation!”

Their great-aunt pulled two orange coveralls from behind her back. They had black letters on the front reading “Unpaid Intern #1” and “Unpaid Intern #2” on them in big black letters. She grinned mischievously.

“Not anymore! Now get to work, suckers!”

Stanley managed to talk Grauntie Mabel out of the overalls, but she wasn't kidding about making them work. In the first two days of their stay, they scrubbed the Shack from roof to lawn, swept the house, cleaned out the fridge (Ford swore that was actual glitter in that chicken casserole), and reorganized practically the entire Gift Shop. The only thing they didn't clean was the vending machine, which Mabel declared off-limits after she caught Stan stealing twelve candy bars at a time. They'd even had to re-sew some of the taxidermic monstrosities in the Museum.

The exhibits in there drove Ford crazy. It was all he could do not to shout out corrections when she guided tourists through, calling jackalopes “Antelabbits” and introducing them to bizarre creatures like the “Centaurtaur.” Ford was pretty sure she'd just made that up.

Stan, however, loved it. There was at least one hot babe per bus, and he was determined to make a move on every single one.

Ford watched his brother approach a blue-eyed brunette who was browsing through the shirt rack.

“Do you know a good dentist?” Stan asked, leaning casually on the rack and grinning. “'Cuz you're so sweet I'm gonna get cavities.”

She leaned away from him. “Um, ew.”

Stan didn't give up. “So do you have a name, or should I just call you 'mine'?”

“You can call a lawyer, 'cuz I'm about to sue for harassment,” she snapped, and stalked out of the shop.

This had happened so many times that Stanley didn't even look fazed. He scoffed, turned to the window, and eyed the next busload of tourists shuffling around the lawn.

“Welp,” he said, “one babe down, thirteen to go!”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Stan, some of those girls are like, Mom's age.” He wiped off a jar of eyeballs (which he was convinced watched him when he wasn't looking). “I know you're getting all girl-crazy, but could you turn it down a notch?”

“Not until I get a girlfriend,” Stan said with determination. “All those girls in Jersey were stupid-heads. Now that we're here, I'm going to find the perfect girl to date me.”

“That doesn't mean flirting with every girl you see. Remember when you hit on that lady with a pet turtle? She looked ten years older than you!”

“So I have a thing for older women.” Stan threw one arm around his brother. “Come on, Sixer, I need a wingman! We can both land a hot girl this summer!”

Ford glanced reflexively at his hands, but Stan didn't notice.

“Besides,” he went on, “I got a good feeling about this summer! I wouldn't be surprised if the girl of my dreams walked through that door right now!”

The second Stan pointed to the front door, Grauntie Mabel walked through it and belched up a handful of glitter.

“Ugh, eating actual glitter, not good, ow,” she grumbled.

“Ew, why?!” Stan yelped. Ford laughed.

“Alright, people,” Mabel announced, “I need someone to go hammer these signs in the spooky part of the forest!”

“Not it!” Stan yelled.

“Not it!” Ford echoed.

“Uh, also not it!” Ria called, nailing up a new shelf on the wall.

“No worries, Ria. Flannel Man, I need you to put up these signs for me, please!”

He glanced up. “That's a left-handed hammer. I only use my right hand! The manly hand!” He leaped to his feet. “I'm gonna go make a right-handed hammer right now! HYAAAH!” He ran out the door.

“Oh, not again,” Mabel muttered. “Alright, let's make it eenie, meenie, miney...you.” She pointed to Ford.

He flinched. “What? But Grauntie Mabel, whenever I'm in those woods I feel like I'm being watched.”

“I've been in those woods a hundred times, kiddo. How many times do I have to tell you there's nothing scary in there?”

“Except maybe bears,” Stan added.

“Why don't you do it?” Ford demanded, looking at Stan. “You're the one who wanted to hunt for buried treasure!”

“Nope, she picked you, sucker! See ya!” He dashed out the door after Boyish Dan.

“But it's creepy!” Ford insisted. “I'm telling you, there's something weird about this town. Look – yesterday my mosquito bites spelled out 'BEWARE'!” He pulled up his sleeve to show Mabel.

She peered at it. “First, that says 'BEWARB.' Second, there's no such thing as the supernatural. And third, the longer you wait, the darker it'll get, so hop to it!” She dumped the signs into his arms and moved past him to handle the tourists.

“This is so not fair,” Ford grumbled, hammering up another sign. This deep into the forest, the thick trees cast an eerie shadow over everything. Even the sky looked tombstone gray. “Why doesn't anyone believe me when it comes to the supernatural? I know something's not right here...”

Clang.

Ford blinked. The tree he'd just hammered sounded...metallic. He leaned closer and tapped it again with the hammer.

Clang, clang.

“...huh.”

He ran his fingers over the bark, leaving trails through the dust and dirt. His fingers caught on something and he pulled.

A portion of the tree trunk swung open.

There was a rectangular compartment lined with metal recessed into the tree. Centered on the bottom was some kind of control box, with a dusty screen, a few weird buttons, and a couple of levers. With growing fascination, Ford leaned forward, tapping the buttons and toggling one of the levers.

WHIIRRRR!

Ford spun around. A section of the grass had retracted, revealing another compartment set into the ground.

Grauntie Mabel's pig, which had apparently followed him out here with surprising stealth, gave a startled oink and waddled quickly away.

Ford hurried over.

The compartment was full of cobwebs, millipedes, beetles – and one very old, very filthy book, covered in layers of dirt and dust. Ford picked it up carefully and blew the dust away.

The book was bound in deep blue leather, the corners reinforced with a dull bronze-colored metal. In the middle of the cover was a gold pine tree with the number “3” written on it, shimmering against the blue background. The book looked very old, and very strange, like an ancient tome from some kind of secret society.

“Whoa,” he breathed. He laid it carefully on the grass. His head was spinning with questions. Who would hide a book way out here, in such an elaborate hiding spot? Who built the mechanisms? What amazing secrets were written on these very pages?

He opened the book.

The inside cover had an owner's label, but the name had been ripped off. There was a monocle attached to the binding. He picked it up for a moment, weighing it in his hand, before he turned the page and began reading aloud.

“'It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon.'”

Secrets? Ford was right – there was something going on in Gravity Falls!

He flipped eagerly through the pages. They were filled with illustrations of strange beasts – eyebats, gnomes, gremloblins, with notes taken in precise cursive. There were also several lines of strange symbols and numbers, obviously some kind of code.

“What is all this?” Ford whispered.

He stopped flipping the pages and started to read again. A bold subtitle had caught his eye: Trust no one.

“'Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this journal before he finds it. Remember, in Gravity Falls, there is no one you can trust!'” He picked up the book and stared at the words. “No one you can trust...”

“HELLO!”

“GAH!” Ford jumped and nearly dropped the book.

Stan sat on the log behind him, grinning from ear to ear. “I swear, Sixer, I shoulda pretended to be a bear. Betcha woulda peed your pants! Hey –” He caught sight of the book in Ford's hands. “Whatcha readin' there, some nerd thing?”

“Uh – uhhh, it's nothing!” Ford said, hiding the book under one arm.

“'Uhhh, it's nothing!'” Stanley mimicked, laughing again. “What, are you actually not gonna show me?”

Ford felt a slight tugging on his book. Grauntie Mabel's stealth pig had come back and was chewing the cover.

He tugged it away. “Let's go somewhere private.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “We're in the middle of the forest, bro,” he pointed out. But he followed Ford back to the Shack.

Since the pig wasn't allowed in the house, Ford went to the Shack's living room to show Stan the journal. There was a tour bus out front, so he figured their great-aunt would be busy for a while. He didn't really want to share the journal with her. She didn't believe in the supernatural, anyway.

“Ok, so what's the big thing with some dumb book?” Stan asked impatiently, jumping onto their Grauntie's orange chair.

He took the book out of his jacket, smiling down at it. “It's amazing – Grauntie Mabel said there's no such thing as the supernatural, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has a secret dark side.”

“Whoa, shut up!”

“And get this! After a certain point, the pages just – stop, like the guy who was writing it mysteriously disappeared!” He held up the blank pages to show his brother.

“Do you think he was eaten by one of those monsters?” Stan asked.

“Hey – maybe!” Ford said. He hadn't thought of that. “But he hid it first, so I don't think he got eaten. Plus, the author says he was being watched, so I don't think it was a random monster.” He started pacing as he talked. “If he knew he was being watched, did he take steps to protect himself? Is the author still around somewhere? Could he be someone in town? There are some coded parts of the journal in here. I bet if I could crack them, I could figure out what happened, maybe who the author really is!”

Stanley grinned at him. “If anybody can do it, it's you! You're the smartest guy I know!”

Ding dong.

Ford looked up. “Who's that?”

His brother grinned. “Welp, time to spill the beans!” He reached over and flicked an empty can of beans sitting on Mabel's stack of romance novels. The can tipped over. “Haha, beans. This guy's got a date with destiny!”

Ford raised his eyebrows. “Let me get this straight. In the thirty minutes I've been gone, you've already managed to find a girlfriend?”

“Well, not exactly.” Stan ran off to answer the door. Ford hopped up on the chair and sat down to read.

Grauntie Mabel walked in. “Whatcha readin' there, kiddo?” she asked.

He jumped. “Oh – uh, uh –” Ford hid the book behind him and grabbed a novel from the stack. “Just reading, um...Wolf Man, Big Chest?”

“That's a good series,” she commented, taking a swig of Pit Cola.

“Alright, family!” Stan announced, marching proudly into the room. “Say hello to my new buddy, Norman!”

A slouching, black-hoodied teenager shuffled into the room. He wore dark pants and a black hoodie, all covered with bits of dirt and grass, with an actual tree root sticking out of his hood. When he turned to greet them, his face was paper-white, and his eyes were round and bloodshot.

He looked at them. “'Sup.”

“Hey,” Ford said, just as Mabel said, “Hi there!”

“We met at the cemetery,” Stan said. “He hangs out there all the time. Isn't that cool?”

“Um, are you bleeding, Norman?” Ford asked, pointing to something red and drippy on Norman's chin.

Norman's eyes darted nervously. “It's jam,” he rasped.

“Anyway, we're going treasure-hunting!” Stan declared. “You wanna come, Ford?”

The journal pressed into Ford's back. “Um...maybe later,” he said.

“Aw, come on! We were gonna go hunt for treasure! You know you're gonna love it.”

“No thanks,” Ford said, a little more firmly. “I've got...summer reading to do.”

“Oh...” Stan looked dubiously t the book's hiding place. “Fine. Come on, Norman!” he yelled, racing for the door. “Last one out's a rotten egg!”

Norman raised a hand in farewell, walked into a wall, and stumbled after Stan.

Ford got up from the chair, hiding the journal in his jacket, and went to the window. He frowned, watching them leave. “Did Norman seem...normal, to you?” he asked Grauntie Mabel. But he wasn't really expecting an answer. She'd already started rereading that lame romance novel.

He touched the journal, thinking hard. If there was something supernatural about Norman, maybe it could give him some clues.

Half of the upstairs attic was taken up by his and Stan's bedroom. The other half was empty, utterly devoid of furniture with the exception of a single bay window, with stained red glass decorated with a triangular design. Ford sat on the cushioned seat, scooting close to the window to make the most of the light.

He flipped through the book until he found something that caught his eye. It was a hunched figure with its limbs held out stiffly, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Norman.

He started to read. “'Known for their pale skin and bad attitude, these monsters are commonly mistaken for teenagers. Beware of Gravity Falls' notorious –’” he gasped. “ZOMBIE?!”

Grauntie Mabel looked up from the bathroom mirror.

“What was that? 'Crombie'?” she wondered. “No, maybe it was chompy. Or maybe hungry. Hey, I should finish off that Chicken-Glitter Casserole!”

Ford jumped up to a kneeling position and pressed against the glass. There! Stanley was sitting on the picnic table, concentrating on a piece of paper spread out before him. Norman was stalking towards him, arms outstretched, grunting with every step. Stanley was so focused that he was utterly oblivious to the danger.

“Oh no – Stanley!” Ford shouted, but his brother couldn't hear him.

Norman came closer. He loomed over Stanley.

He grabbed him –

Ford yelled –

And Norman pulled back, a miner's helmet on Stan's head. Stanley turned around, grinning and feeling his new hat.

“Is this a real miner's helmet?!” he asked, reaching up to flick the light. It blinked on and off, visible even in the bright sunshine. “Wow! Where did you get this? It's so cool!”

Ford slumped with relief, watching for a few seconds longer as the two of them started pointing to stuff on the paper. From here, it looked like it was some kind of map.

He drew back, shutting the book and sticking it under his arm. For all he knew, the teen was just another emo teenager. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He held the journal more tightly.

“Is Norman really a zombie,” he muttered, “or am I just going nuts?”

“It's a dilemma, to be sure.”

Ford jumped and spun around. Ria was on a step stool, changing the bulb in the attic's ceiling lamp. Ford hadn't even heard her come in.

He hesitated, but he needed to think this through with someone. “Ria, you've seen Norman, right?” he asked. “He's gotta be a zombie!”

“Hmm. How many brains have you seen him eat?” she asked politely.

He sighed. “Zero.”

She stepped off the stool, wiping the dust from her hands. “Don't fret, chiquito. I do believe you. There are many strange things that happen in this town. The florist, for example. I am almost certain that he is a satyr.”

Ford knew who she was talking about. The florist's shoes made weird clopping noises, he always wore a hat even indoors, and he had flower petals everywhere – even between his teeth.

“But you must have evidence,” Ria continued. “Otherwise, people will simply believe that you are one piece shy of a chess set.”

“I guess you're right,” Ford conceded.

She nodded sagely. “Wisdom is both a blessing and a curse.”

Grauntie Mabel's voice called up to them. “Ria! The portable toilets are clogged again!”

Ria straightened her hat. “I must get the special vacuum.” She held the step stool like a shield and marched out of the room.

Ford looked after her, thinking hard. Ria was right. He'd need some actual proof that Norman was a zombie...hadn't he seen a camera left in the Lost 'N' Found box in the Gift Shop? Grauntie Mabel always waited until the end of the day, then emptied the box, stuck price tags on everything, and resold it as “haunted merchandise”. He could borrow the camera and return it later for her to sell. If he followed Norman around, he'd be able to film actual proof that Norman really was a zombie.

A slow smile spread over his face. He'd be a hero – he could protect his brother, prove the existence of the supernatural to his great-aunt, maybe even get an article published in the newspaper. This was definitely a good plan.

It was time to collect some evidence!

“Here, let's take this one, too,” Stanley said. He and Norman had gone straight to the closest hardware store and begun stocking up on supplies, using Norman's zipped-up jacket as their shopping cart. He shoved a second flashlight down Norman's collar and stood back to admire the effect. With all the stuff they'd packed in, the jacket bulged in unlikely places, but they could just say he'd broken both arms or something. “Perfect,” he decided. “Man, how do you fit all that stuff in there?”

Norman eyed the next item doubtfully. Stanley was holding a shovel almost as tall as himself – three and a half feet long with a wide, pointy steel blade. “Uh, I don't know about the shovel...”

“Well I'm not paying for a perfectly stealable shovel. Are you?” Stanley twirled it like a baton. “Won't we need two of these?”

Norman grunted. “You dig it up, you get 80% of the gold.”

“Well hot dog! You got yourself a deal!” Stanley practically danced with glee – then remembered not to do that. Ford was the only one who didn't laugh when he danced.

Thinking of Ford made his chest twinge. If his brother hadn't found that stupid book with its stupid mysteries, maybe they'd be doing this together...

He gave himself a good mental shake. So what? He and Norman would dig up the gold using the treasure map they'd found, and they'd get filthy rich and Ford would be incredibly jealous, and then Stan could use the gold to buy all the fancy monster-hunting equipment Ford wanted and they'd go exploring the forest together for the rest of their natural lives. In a limo. In two limos!

“C'mon, c'mon, let's get out of here!” Stanley whispered excitedly. “We got some gold to find!”

They picked the lock on the Emergency Exit door and snuck out. Norman insisted they pick up provisions at “the place with ingredients for pie”, which Stan guessed meant the grocery store. But first they decided to dump their equipment at the cemetery. There was a tombstone with a winged angel pointing at something, and her wings were big enough to hide their stuff behind.

Stan threw the shovel in the dirt like a harpoon. A pile of blankets was already stacked there, plus a wagon loaded with a pickaxe and a coil of rope from their previous tool heist.

“Dude, you're like, an expert at this,” Stan said. “By the end of the day, we're gonna be filthy ri–”

“WAGH!”

Stan turned right as Norman did a face-plant in an open grave, spraying him with dirt and gravel. After a second, Norman crawled his way to the surface. Stan burst out laughing.

“Oh, man, that was hilarious!” he gasped, bent double from laughing so hard.

Norman laughed along with him. Stan knelt by the edge of the grave. “Dude, you are covered in dirt. You look like a zombie! Wait – it's like a zombie swimming pool! Swim through the dirt!” He started chanting. “Swim through the dirt! Swim through the dirt!”

Norman grunted and tried to pull himself out. Tools fell out of his jacket and pants. Stan looked down at the grave in dismay.

“Aw, man, you dumped it all.”

Norman handed him the shovel. “Here. Practice.”

“Uh, you're the one who dumped it.”

“I'm...like...not crawling back into an open grave.”

Stan scoffed. “Chicken.” He jumped in feet-first. The dirt was all soft on top, soft enough to move with his hands, so digging was no problem. He brought up their flashlights, thermoses, and a waterproof watch before he noticed Norman watching him. There was a hungry kind of look in his eyes.

“Um...dude. You're freaking me out.”

“Sorry. You're really good at digging.”

“Whatever. Get the stuff and pull me out, would you?”

Norman put a hand down, but when Stan went to grab it, he somehow lost his grip and went tumbling back in the grave. He banged the shovel on his knee.

“Ow!”

“You okay?”

“Ugh...” Stan rubbed the back of his head. “I swear I'm gonna have, like, three concussions and amnesia by the time this summer's over. Get a better grip this time, okay?”

Norman helped him out of the grave and they piled all their stuff in the wagon. By that point, they both looked so filthy that Stan knew they'd never make it in and out of the grocery store without getting caught. You had to look nice and respectable for people's eyes to glaze over you, and somehow grave dirt just wasn't the fashion style of the season.

Fashion style? Ew! Grauntie Mae's rubbing off on me. Definitely time for some manly gold-digging.

Aaand that sounded wrong.

“Let's just get back to the Shack,” Stan said angrily, scowling at the wagon. “You pull, I'll push. We can just grab some stuff from the kitchen and fill up our thermoses there.”

Ford paced the living room angrily, the camera in his hands, disgusted with the wasted day. He'd followed Stan around for the past five hours, and while he'd gotten plenty of evidence of Stan's sticky fingers, there was absolutely nothing to suggest that Norman was anything other than a very awkward teenager.

He heard Stanley slam the back door. It was easy to tell who it was, since he grumbled under his breath the whole way up the stairs. Ford headed up as well and entered their bedroom just as Stanley was putting on a fresh shirt.

“Stanley!” Ford said. “We've gotta talk about Norman.”

“Isn't he the coolest?” Stan asked. He held up his right forearm and pointed. “Check out this neat scar I got!”

“Gah!” Ford stared, alarmed. The scar was at least a foot long and bright pink, the skin around it mottled and purple.

“Haha! Gullible.” Stanley put his arm down and rubbed it. “It's just some paint, see? We painted the wagon we're using. I called it 'The Stanleymobile!'”

Right. Ford had seen Stan and Norman outside earlier, messing around with paint and a rickety-looking wagon. They'd tried to use a leaf blower to make it dry faster and ended up having a sword fight with the blower and a shovel.

Stanley smiled. “That was fun, Sixer, you shoulda joined us!”

Ford shook his head. “No, Stanley, listen – I'm trying to tell you that Norman is not what he seems!” He pulled out the journal, its gold-leaf pine tree glinting ominously.

Stan thought for a second. “Do you think he could be a werewolf? That would be so awesome!”

“Guess again, Stanley,” Ford said, and flipped quickly through the pages. He held it up dramatically. “Sha-BAM!”

Stan yelled in surprise, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

Ford checked the page. “Oh, oh wait, hang on –” He had flipped it to that page about gnomes, all chubby-cheeked and starry-eyed. He turned the pages back until he found the one on zombies. “Okay, sha-BAM!”

Stan was not impressed. “A zombie? That is not funny, Ford.”

“I'm not joking!” Ford started to pace the room. Why didn't anyone believe him? Not Grauntie Mabel, and now not Stan?! He knew what he was talking about! “Look, it all adds up – the bleeding, the limp... He never blinks! Have you noticed that?”

“Maybe he's blinking when you're blinking,” Stanley said.

“Stanley, remember what the book said?” Ford whispered urgently. “'Trust no one!'”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Well what about me, huh? Why can't you trust me?”

Ford grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “Stanley, he's gonna eat your brain!”

Stanley frowned and pushed his hands away. “Stanford, listen to me. You can join us or not, but Norman and I are going treasure-hunting at five o' clock.” He started marching toward Stanford, who was forced to back up a step at a time. “And we're gonna find an awesome pile of gold,” Stan continued, “and we're gonna spend it however we want, and I'm not gonna let you ruin it with your crazy conspiracies!”

Stan slammed the bedroom door in Ford's face.

Ford sighed and slid to the floor, sitting against the door. “Oh man...what am I gonna do?”

Eventually he pulled himself to his feet and dragged himself downstairs, where he flopped on the yellow armchair. He pulled out the video camera and flipped open the viewing screen, glumly rewinding and fast-forwarding various moments of the day. There wasn't even a shred of proof...

The doorbell rang.

“Coming!” Stan yelled.

Ford glanced over the arm of the chair. He had a pretty good view of the front door. Norman was standing in the entrance, as pale and creepy as ever.

Stanley ran to the door, wearing clean(ish) clothes and his miner's helmet. “How do I look?” Stan asked, adjusting the hat. “Do I look like a real treasure-hunter?”

“Cool,” Norman grunted.

“The map's on the picnic table. Let's grab it and get hunting!” He grabbed Norman's sleeve and yanked him outside. Ford kept watching as they grabbed a wagon loaded with food and tools and started lugging it into the forest.

Ford turned away from the door with a groan. “Ugh, maybe Ria was right. I don't have any real evidence...” He watched a brief clip of Stan teaching Norman how to play cards while they ate stolen candy bars. He thumbed the fast-forward button absently. It reached the part where he'd been spying on the two of them in the cemetery. Ford watched as Norman fell into the grave, then climbed out. Totally creepy, but nothing supernatural about it at all. He sank a little lower in the chair. “I guess I can be kind of paranoid sometimes and...”

On the screen, Norman try to pull Stan out of the grave. Norman pulled and his hand popped off just as Stan slipped, falling back into –

“Wait. WHAT!?”

He rewound it again, watching closely. Just as Norman started to pull Stan out of the grave, Norman's hand fell off his wrist! Norman quickly popped it back on when Stan wasn't looking!

Ford yelled in triumph and actually knocked over the chair.

“I was right!” he shouted, scrambling to climb over the seat. “I was right, I knew it, I was –” He stopped short. His brother was out there right now, in a creepy forest with a zombie who wanted to eat his brains!

“Omigosh, omigosh!” He darted for the door. He had to get help! “Grauntie Mabel, Grauntie Mabel!”

He sprinted around the Shack. His great-aunt was giving a tour to some sweaty-looking tourists. She led them to a rather large rock set atop a thick pole, sitting in front of the Shack.

“And here we have Rock-That-Looks-Like-A-Face Rock,” she said proudly. “'The Rock that Looks like a Face.'”

One of the tourists raised his hand. “Does it look like a rock?” he asked, his accent twanging.

“What?” Mabel frowned at him. “No, it looks like a face.”

“Is it a face?” asked another tourist.

“It's a rock that looks like a face.”

Ford rushed up and tried to get around them, but there was no room. He jumped up and down, waving his arms from the back of the crowd. “Over here! Grauntie Mabel!”

She was too engrossed in her argument with the tourists. “For the fifth time, it's not an actual face!”

Ford ground his teeth in frustration.

Stan wiped the sweat from his forehead, leaving a long streak of black dirt on his face. The hole he'd dug was five feet wide and just as deep, with one side of it slanted so he could go up and down like a ramp. The sun was slowly going down, so half of the hole got some good shade, but the other half was right in the sun's path. Every time he stood on that side he got blinded. Sweat rolled down his face and back, making his shirt stick to him like the wrapper on a pastrami sandwich.

“This is taking forever!” Stan complained. He glared up at Norman. “Why aren't you helping more?”

Norman knelt at the side of the hole and handed him a water bottle. “I am helping. Besides, you're almost there.”

“Where, the center of the earth?” Stan threw down the water bottle and stabbed at the ground with the shovel. “Come on! I've been digging solo this whole time, and there's nothing even here –”

TWANG.

The shovel bounced back in Stan's hand. They both stared at the ground.

Stan's eyes went wide. “Is that...?”

“Grauntie Mabel, Grauntie Mabel!” Ford shouted, but he still couldn't get her attention and he knew time had to be running out!

A sudden movement caught his eye. Boyish Dan was parking the golf cart next to the “Pet the Pig” sign.

“Boyish Dan!” Ford ran over to him. “Dan, I need to borrow the golf cart so I can save my brother from a zombie!”

Dan squinted at him. Then he shrugged and dropped the keys into Ford's hand. “Don't hit pedestrians!” he barked, stalking toward the Gift Shop. Ford smiled with relief. Dan was pretty cool.

He hopped in the cart. It was almost exactly like that bumper car he'd ridden at the fair when he was six. He turned the key, shifted the gear stick, and hit the gas, heading straight for the forest.

“Chiquito, it's me, Ria.”

Ford hit the brakes. What was Ria doing just standing in the middle of the lawn?

“This is in case you see a zombie,” Ria said, handing him a large shovel.

“Thanks.” He stowed it in the back seat of the cart.

“And this is in case you see a pinata.” She handed him a baseball bat.

“Uh...thanks?” He put it by the shovel and hit the gas.

“Better safe than sorry!” she called cheerfully, as he zoomed towards the forest.

“Oh, man, I've never seen this much gold in my life!” Stan laughed. He'd dumped the treasure chest out on the bottom of the hole and was digging through the pile of gold coins, running them through his fingers. They glittered in the orange light of the setting sun. He grabbed two fistfuls and threw them up in the air, yelling with delight until they fell back down and pummeled him on the head. “Ow!”

“This is amazing!” Norman said. “I can't believe you dug this up all by yourself!”

“I know, right!” Stan paused, squinting up at Norman. “Yeah, I did do all the work myself. You know, I'm thinking we may need to renegotiate our shares, here.”

“Oh, you can hang on to all of it.”

Stanley stared at him. “Huh?”

Norman seemed not to hear. “Man, look at this! And this was supposed to be one of the harder ones to dig up, too. You did it in an hour flat!”

“...Yeah...” Stan looked from the gold to Norman and back again. Norman really wasn't making any kind of grab for it. He'd just said Stan could have it all, just like that. Something was definitely fishy here. Was it possible Norman had tricked him?

He picked up an old-looking coin. It was worn smooth on one side, but the other side had some kind of sketchy engraving he couldn't quite make out. He knew better than to bite it – if it really was gold, he would dent the metal and decrease the coin's value. He weighed it in his palm. He'd gotten pretty good at that while working at the family pawn shop, and this felt like real gold.

So why would Norman just...?

He looked up. A bunch of foot-high men in bright red caps were standing exactly where Norman had been.

Stan shrieked and fell back on his butt.

“Relax, kid, wouldja?” one of the short guys said impatiently. It was Norman! Or at least Norman's face and voice.

“You – you –” Stan sputtered.

“Right, right, I'll explain.” Norman brushed the hair out of his eyes and smacked one hand with the other. “So! We're gnomes! Got that one out of the way.” He nodded at the other gnomes, all of whom were standing on stilts or carrying fake plastic arms. “I'm Jeff,” he said, “And that's Carson, Steve, Jason, and...I'm sorry, I always forget your name.”

The last gnome, who looked like a wild-eyed Santa Claus, blinked slowly. “Schmebulock,” he said, with a voice like a bunch of falling gravel.

Jeff snapped his fingers. “Right! Schmebulock! Yes! Anyway...” He turned back to Stan.

Stanley blinked rapidly, trying to put it all together. If that was Norman's face...then...Norman had really been a bunch of gnomes the whole time?!

“I still keep the gold,” Stan said flatly. “You said I could, and I did all the digging, and you didn't even pay for the stuff we stole, so –”

“Relax, kid, you can have all that and more!”

Stan blinked again, stunned. “There's more?”

“Sure!” Jeff pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and waved it around. “Us gnomes got into a fight with a giant hellhound a while ago, and long story short, it buried all our treasure. We've got whole boxes of the stuff buried all over the forest!”

Stan's eyes gleamed. “More gold, huh? You don't say.”

“Yep! But we're not exactly cut out to be diggers, and any tools we steal are definitely not gnome-sized. That's why us gnomes have been looking for a new servant!”

“Say what now?”

“Well, more like slave-labor, really. But it's a great deal!” Jeff nodded enthusiastically. “We offer full medical and dental coverage, plus all the pie we can steal. All you have to do is dig up all of our gold and guard it for the rest of eternity!”

“Are you crazy?” Stan demanded. “I get enough of that child labor stuff from Grauntie Mabel. You're lucky I don't sue your red-capped butts right now! I'm takin' my gold and I'm outta here.”

“We understand.” Jeff and his gnome friends glanced at each other. “Well, Stan...we tried it the easy way.”

Stan backed up. “Huh?”

All five gnomes bared teeth as sharp as a shark's. Stan yelled and threw up his arms as they jumped into the hole, their beady eyes glittering with greed.

“Don't worry, Stanley!” Ford shouted, his foot pressed to the gas. “I'll save you from that zombie!” Luckily, he'd seen the map they'd been using from the window of the attic. He had a pretty good memory. He knew he was to be close to wherever Stan and that zombie were trying to go.

Suddenly Stan's voice echoed through the trees to Ford's left. “Help!” he cried.

“Hold on!” Ford veered off the trail and drove into the trees, heading deeper and deeper into the shadows. The farther he went, the more he noticed an odd bluish light that seemed to come from the forest around him, tinting the foliage mint-green and aqua. The pine-needle carpet was swiftly replaced with odd blue mosses dotted with pink flowers and the occasional clump of mushrooms. There was an off-road path through the trees wide enough for the golf cart, and Ford pressed the accelerator, listening for his brother.

There was a clearing of sorts up ahead. A bunch of tiny red-capped creatures were swarming around a pile of gold. To the left, the rest of the creatures were clustered around Stanley, who was trying to fight them off, throwing punches left and right.

“The more you struggle, the more awkward this is gonna be for everybody!” warned one of the tiny creatures. “Okay, just – get his arm, there, Steve!”

A creature jumped up and tried bite Stan's arm. “Gah! HEY! Let go of me!” he shouted angrily. Another one attacked his midriff and he caught it mid-air with a strong left hook. The thing flew four feet, bounced twice, and landed on its feet next to a tree. It immediately vomited a viscous multicolored bile.

Ford hopped out of the cart and stared. “What the heck is going on here?!”

One of the creatures – men, they looked like little men – scuttled passed and hissed at him. Ford flinched back, dropping the shovel.

“Sixer!” Stanley called. “Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes! And they're total jerks!”

Three gnomes stacked themselves up and grabbed Stanley by the hair, swinging from it like monkeys. He yelped and went down.

“Gnomes?” Ford repeated, pulling out the journal. He flipped to the right page – ironically, the same page he'd accidentally shown his brother earlier. The same chubby-cheeked, starry-eyed drawing stared up at him. It was adorable in a creepy, infest-your-grandma's-lawn kind of way. “'Gnomes,'” he read aloud, “'Little men of the Gravity Falls forest. Weaknesses: Unknown.'”

Well that was unhelpful, Ford thought. When he glanced up, the gnomes had tied Stanley to the ground with a bunch of string, like a miniature Gulliver.

“Oh, come on!” Stanley shouted.

“Hey, hey!” Ford marched up to the lead gnome, shovel in hand. “Let go of my brother!”

“Oh, hehe, hey there!” The gnome smiled a little too stiffly. “You know, this is all just a big misunderstanding! Y'see, your brother's not in danger. He's just enslaved to all one thousand of us to become our gold miner for all eternity! Isn't that right, Stan-O?”

“You guys are butt faces!” Stan shouted. A gnome slapped his hands over Stan's mouth.

“Let go of him right now, or else!” Ford threatened.

Jeff glared at him, his face growing darker by the minute. “You think you can stop us, boy? You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the –”

Ford scooped him up with the shovel and dumped him to the side.

He yelped indignantly. Ford ignored him and headed straight for Stan, lifting the shovel high and bringing the edge of it down on the strings. Stan jumped up and lashed out at the gnomes, knocking them down and giving them enough time to get away. He stopped to pick something up and Ford grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the golf cart.

“Forget it, Stan, just go!” Ford said.

“He's getting away with our servant!” Jeff yelled. “No, no, no!”

They scrambled into the golf cart. “Seat belt!” Ford barked.

“Mama's boy!” Stan barked back, but he put on the belt and Ford threw it in reverse.

Jeff watched them go, a dark fire burning in his eyes. “You messed with the wrong creatures, boy,” he growled. “Gnomes of the forest, ASSEMBLE!”

Instantly, gnome faces popped out from every nook and crevice in the clearing, crawling from the shadows, literally popping out of the woodwork in the trees. They scuttled towards him, linking arms, climbing onto each other's shoulders, as their collective shadow grew and spread over the ground...

Stan gripped the seat so hard his fingertips went numb. “Hurry, hurry, before they come after us!”

Ford grinned at him. “I wouldn't worry about it. Did you see those little legs? Those suckers are tiny!”

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Ford braked as the whole ground shuddered under their wheels. A shadow fell over the cart and they turned.

Stan gaped. “Dang.”

A thirty-foot conglomeration of gnomes loomed over them, with fingers as thick as telephone poles, arms and legs as thick as train cars, and a huge, sharp-toothed face that came to a hat-shaped point.

Jeff sat at the very top of the point. “Alright, guys, like we practiced!” he called, and yanked a gnome's hat. The giant roared and lifted a huge fist.

“Go go go!” Stan yelled. Ford floored it just in time, and the fist hit the ground where they'd been just a split-second earlier. The fist smashed apart into a pile of angry gnomes. Stanley grabbed the seat for balance and watched, still looking back, as the gnomes quickly regrouped and thundered after them.

“Stanley what's happening?” Ford shouted.

“COME BACK WITH OUR SERVANT!” Jeff howled, his black eyes madder than ever. The gnome giant ran with incredible speed, closing the gap between them in a matter of seconds.

Stan blanched. “Hit the gas hit the gas!”

The giant whipped its arm at them and several razor-toothed gnomes snapped off its fingers and went flying straight for the cart.

Stan grabbed a bat from the back seat. “We got incoming!”

He unbuckled and stood in one smooth motion, hitting the first gnome in the gut with a perfect swing. It went flying into the trees.

“Home run, suckah!”

“Stanley!”

He turned. His brother was fighting off the rest – they were tearing through the cloth roof and climbing down the sides of the cart, shredding whatever they could reach with their teeth. Stanley grinned and wielded the bat like a spear, punching the stupid gnomes flat in the face with the blunt end. One of them tried to bite the bat and Stan smashed the end of it against the hood of the cart, squishing the gnome, which let go and bounced off into the road.

Another gnome swung down from the roof right next to Ford. He yelled, but before Stan could get to it Ford grabbed it by the back of its stupid little jacket and banged it several times against the steering wheel.

“Schmebulock,” groaned the gnome.

Ford smashed it one more time and let it go, and it rebounded off the cart and went tumbling in their dust.

Stan grinned at him. “Way to go, Fo–”

“SCREEEEE!”

A gnome came flying out of nowhere and landed right on Ford's face, squeezing Ford's ears in its vice-like grip.

“I'll save you Ford!” Stan dropped the bat and pummeled the gnome with both fists until he dislodged it with a killer left hook.

“Th-thanks, Stanley,” Ford stammered, swaying slightly and blinking several times.

“Don't mention it.” Stanley had been standing on the seat, but now he crouched down and peered out the back of the cart.

The gnome giant had been gaining all the time, but now it paused and grabbed the nearest tree. It was a redwood at least four stories tall, looked like it had been growing for over a century – and the giant just grabbed it and pulled it up like it was picking daisies! It took aim and threw the tree like a javelin.

“WATCH OUT!” Stan shouted.

Ford glanced back over his shoulder and the two of them yelled with fear as the tree sailed towards them – and then over them. It landed with an incredible BANG in the middle of the path ahead, completely blocking the road.

Stanley threw up his arms as Ford swerved, desperately trying to avoid the tree, screaming as it loomed closer and closer.

The tree had landed with one end propped up on a boulder, with just the smallest gap between the tree and the ground. Ford yanked the wheel hard to the right and the cart skidded under the tree, scraping off bits of bark with the roof of the cart. Ford lost control and the cart started tipping, zooming down the road on just its two right wheels. Stan grabbed the seat – he couldn't reach for the seatbelt or he'd fall out – and Ford pumped the brakes and the gas, trying to regain control. The cart fishtailed, skidding over the road, and finally tipped over, sliding the last ten feet to the Shack.

It took a full minute for Stanley to realize they weren't moving. His head was pounding and the ground spun underneath him. He pulled himself, groaning, from the wreckage of the cart. He glanced over to see his brother standing up shakily, grabbing the bent metal poles of the cart for balance.

The giant gnome stomped towards them, its huge shadow swallowing them up. At its top, Jeff's eyes glittered maliciously. The boys backed up until they were pressed against the wall of the Shack.

“Uh, stay back, gnomes!” Ford yelled shakily. He grabbed the shovel from the back of the cart and threw it.

The giant hit it in mid-air and punched it to the ground.

“AGH!” Ford and Stan jumped.

“Wh-where's Grauntie Mabel?” Ford squeaked.

Inside the Gift Shop, Mabel Pines was demonstrating the newest merchandise to a trio of slack-jawed visitors.

“Behold!” she declared, holding up a toy that looked like a plastic lollipop. It had a swirl pattern decorating the candy part and a string dangling from one side. “The world's most distracting object!”

She pulled the string and the swirl began to turn.

“Ooooh,” the tourists said in unison.

Mabel grinned. “Just try to look away, you can't!” They all stared at the toy, including Mabel. “...Wow, I can't even remember what I was talking about.”

Stan and Ford were trapped between the trash cans and some bushes at the side of the Shack. There was nowhere for them to run, and nothing they could use as a weapon. Stan stood partly in front of his brother, one arm thrown out to protect him. How the heck was he supposed to get them out of this?

“It's the end of the line, kids!” Jeff yelled, looming over them. “Stanley, get over here before we do something crazy!”

“There's gotta be a way outta this,” Ford whispered. He slid the journal partway out of his jacket.

Stan set his jaw. “I gotta do it.”

“What?” Ford grabbed Stan's shoulder. “Stanley, don't do this, are you crazy?”

“Trust me.”

“What?”

“Sixer, just this once.” He turned to look his brother in the eye. “Trust me.”

Ford looked from the monster to Stan and back again. He slowly released Stan's shoulder and backed up.

Stan strode forward. “Alright, Jeff,” he said loudly. “I'll sign your contract.”

Jeff frowned at him. “Contract?”

“Well sure. This is like, a legal agreement, right? I'm going to work for you for eternity and all. Any good boss knows we need a contract to make it legally binding, so I can't run away.”

Jeff rubbed his chin, considering. “I like the way you think, kid!” he said finally. He clapped his hands and started climbing down the giant. “Help me down there, Jason, thanks Andy, whoops – hey Jorge – whoa, watch those fingers, Mike.” He reached the bottom and headed for Stanley, practically strutting, while the gnome-giant stood silently behind him. Stan was thinking furiously, but it looked like he was right – the other gnomes were all staring at Jeff like they didn't know what to do without him. That's what he was counting on.

“Alright kid, where's the contract?”

“You're in luck! We can use the map we left behind earlier,” Stan said. He reached behind the trash cans. “I've got the map and a pen right here...”

He whipped out the leaf blower and switched it on in reverse. Immediately the suction began drawing Jeff towards the blower.

“H-hey, what's going on?!” Jeff tried to back up but slipped on the grass. He grabbed for the ground with his fingers, but the wind was too strong. It yanked him up and he was sucked straight down the pipe. The other gnomes gasped.

“That's for lying to me!” Stan shouted.

He cranked the suction to full. Jeff's body got sucked in until only his cheeks bulged over the rim.

“Ow, my face!”

“That's for taking my gold!”

Stan aimed the blower at the giant gnome monster. It grunted in surprise.

“And this is for messing with my brother!” He glanced at Ford and grinned. “Care to do the honors?”

Ford smiled back. “On three!”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

Ford flipped the switch to 'blow'. Jeff shot out of the blower like a high-powered rocket. He crashed straight through the giant's chest and out its back.

“I'll get you back for thiiiiis!” he howled, flying at high speed over the treetops and out of sight.

The impact shattered the giant gnome to bits. They broke apart, gnomes falling around them like very ugly confetti. In seconds the lawn was covered with battered gnomes. Their red hats were bent and grass stuck to their sweaty hands and faces. They blinked and looked around blearily, groaning and rubbing their arms and shoulders.

“Ugh...”

“My arms are tired,” one mumbled.

“Who's giving orders?” whined another gnome. “I need orders!”

Stanley shoved the blower at Ford and grabbed his bat. “Anybody else want a piece of this?!” he demanded, swinging the bat like a golf club. He smacked quite a few gnomes on the butt. Ford joined in on the fun, cranking the blower to maximum.

“Yeah, come on!” Ford shouted, laughing.

The gnomes squealed and fled, most of them scampering on all fours into the forest. The twins ran after them, whooping and hollering like maniacs. Even Waddles got in on the action, showing up just in time to drag the last gnome off by its hat.

Ford headed back to the house to replace the leaf blower.

Stan bit his lip. “Hey, Ford.”

His brother turned. Stan shouldered his bat and shoved his free hand into his pocket. “Um. Sorry for getting on your case earlier. I know you were just looking out for me.”

“Come on, don't be like that!” Ford said, smiling. “Did you see what a great team we made? That was awesome!”

Stan grinned a little. “Yeah...hey, wanna see something?” He brought his hand out of his pocket. Resting on his palm was an old, misshapen, yet unmistakably gold coin.

“Whoa, neat-o!” Ford said, bending for a closer look. “You think it's real gold?”

“You bet! I bet you could do some science-y thing to check the weight, but it definitely looks real. The gnomes said there was a ton of it buried all around the forest, but they couldn't dig it up. That's why they wanted me in the first place.”

“You know, I bet we could find it on our own,” Ford mused. “We could get a metal detector or something and go exploring in the woods. We could even make maps like real explorers so we'd know where we'd already checked.”

Stan looked up hopefully. “You mean it? We'll go hunting together?”

“Sure! I bet we'll find a ton of treasure.”

Stanley's smile widened. He felt like fireworks were going off in his chest. “Alright! High six?”

Ford grinned back. “High six.”

They smacked hands.

Grauntie Mabel was counting the day's profits when they walked in. She took one look at them and laughed.

“Whoa, what happened to you?” she asked. “Didja get hit by a bus or something?” She chuckled at her own wit.

Stan grunted for the both of them and the trudged towards the kitchen. Normally he shared her love of terrible jokes, but at the moment he was too beat-up and tired to care. For once he would probably go to bed almost willingly.

“Uh – hey!”

He and Ford turned back. Their great-aunt was rubbing the back of her neck like she was anxious. “W-wouldn't you know it, I accidentally overstocked some inventory!” she said awkwardly. “So, uh, why don't the two of you take one item from the shop. On the house, you know?”

Stan's eyes widened. “Like, for free?”

“What's the catch?” Ford asked, folding his arms.

She frowned at him. “The catch is do it before I change my mind. Now take something.” She smacked the register with her elbow and started organizing the bills.

Stan sped straight for the priciest items in the shop. A talking fish on a plaque? A stuffed frogadillo riding a unicycle? He could take whatever he wanted for free!

“Neat-o!” Ford said.

Stan looked over. His brother had found a keychain shaped like a flying saucer. Ford clicked a small button on the side and the whole thing lit up light blue, making the perfect paranormal-themed flashlight. He slipped a finger through the keychain's ring and spun it, making a circle of light shimmer in the air.

“This is so cool!” Ford turned to Stan. “What did you get, Stanley?”

Stan looked around. “Um...I think I'll get...”

Something caught his eye. A glint of metal from the Bargain Box, shoved to the back of a store. He leaned closer to check...and a smile spread over his face.

“I will have a...grappling hook!”

He aimed the weapon around the shop, pretending he was a fighter in the Ol' West. “Pew, pew, pew! Take that!”

Ford and Grauntie Mabel glanced at each other in surprise.

“Wouldn't you rather have, like, a T-shirt or something?” Grauntie Mabel asked.

“Are you kidding?” Stanley aimed at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The hooks shot up, latched onto the roof beam, and yanked him ten feet in the air, where he dangled one-handedly from the ceiling. “GRAPPLING HOOK!” he shouted.

She laughed. “Fair enough!”

Ford sat in his bed later that evening, the blankets pulled over his knees as he wrote in the journal. He'd already filled in the “Weakness” areas of the gnome page: Leaf blowers and baseball bats!

He flipped to the first blank page, halfway through the book.

This journal told me there was no one in Gravity Falls I could trust, he wrote. But when you battle a hundred gnomes side-by-side with someone, you realize they've probably always got your back.

“Hey, Stan, can you get the lights?” he asked.

Stan had been bouncing energetically on his bed, grappling hook in hand.

“I'm on it!” he said. He'd already impaled a stuffed bear with it earlier, and its cotton innards clung to the hooks. He aimed at the lamp and fired.

The hook shot straight through the lamp and smashed the window behind it. The lamp sparked and died.

“It worked!” Stan shouted, and they laughed.

Ford slipped the journal under his pillow and laid back, his arms crossed under his head. He heard a rustling and knew that Stan had taken up an identical pose.

“This summer's gonna be awesome, Stan,” Ford said.

“Duh!” He could hear his brother's smile in his voice. “We're gonna find tons of buried treasure.”

“And monsters.”

“And babes!”

Ford threw a pillow at him. He heard a fwump and muffled laughter.

Ford closed his eyes, still smiling, thinking back to the last thing he wrote in the journal.

Grauntie Mabel told me there's nothing weird going on in Gravity Falls, but who knows what other secrets are waiting to be unlocked?

#gravity falls #relativity falls #smoll stan #smoll ford #grauntie mabel #gnomes #schmebulock #tourist trap #ria #ria ramirez #boyish dan #mystery shack

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blu-joons · 5 years

Text

Seven Days Of Study ~ Kim Namjoon

You reread Namjoon’s text several times, sighing greatly. With a big test coming up next week Namjoon had promised to help you study, but instead he found himself stuck in the confines of his studio for the next seven days.

“You could always study in the studio? That way I’m still nearby,” he proposed.

The last thing you wanted to do was get in his way, unsure with how to answer. You looked to the floor, scratching your hands together. Namjoon could read you like a book, taking your hands in his. “I promise nobody will mind, especially not me, just try it, see how you get on.”

So, just three days later you found yourself in Namjoon’s studio, head stuck in a book trying to find the perfect source for your essay question.

“Coffee?” Namjoon asked, walking through the door, handing you a mug. You had become so fixated by the pages before you, you hadn’t even heard him leave the room. You reached out for it, not looking up, but Namjoon moved it away. “You need to have a break, just twenty minutes, you’ll do yourself more harm.”

“I’m fine.” You protested, but Namjoon wasn’t having it.

He grabbed your book, folding the top corner of your page. “Why don’t you tell me about what you’re studying, see how much of it you’ve remembered.”

“Well, the book looks at human behaviour in children, how they adapt to language just after they’ve been born.” Namjoon nodded intently, knowing how passionate you were about the subject. “And they do this by…damn, I forgot.”

Namjoon chuckled, sliding the book back your way. “See, breaks are what you need. Now, drink up and I’ll let you restart again in quarter of an hour.”

This continued for the rest of the day, Namjoon constantly providing you with breaks, providing you with little snacks he found in the kitchen, or a funny video he’d seen on the internet.

By the second day you had remembered exactly what you needed to and began to make yourself little revision cards.

Namjoon had headed to the studio early, telling you to head over whenever you were ready. You knocked and walked in, Namjoon turning to greet you. “Hey gorgeous,” he waved.

“Hey…what’s all this?” Your eyes were drawn to the desk you’d settled on yesterday, there were gel pens, stickers, paperclips, everything you could have needed. “Did you do this.”

He nodded, walking by your side, wrapping his arm around your waist. “I thought you could do with a bit of help getting started, so I stopped by the stationary store this morning and grabbed a few resources.”

“You have no idea how much this means to me, thank you,” you smiled, pressing a loving kiss to his lips.

With all your cards finished, day three commenced the memory test. You continued to whisper as you read the cards, turning them over before trying to recall the information.

“Did you say something?” Namjoon asked, turning around in your desk chair. You looked up apologetically, unaware you’d spoken so loudly.

“Just revision,” you smiled, showing him your cards, “sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I’ll shut up.”

He chuckled, walking over to sit beside you, taking the card out of your hand. “You didn’t disturb me love, let me help you.” He snatched the card out of your hand, reading it for himself. “Right, tell me the main reason for child’s speech acquisition.”

“Naturism!” You squealed, smiling as Namjoon nodded his head. “It’s the belief that language is installed in children.”

“See, I don’t know what you’re stressing about, you’re going to smash this exam!” He picked up another card, once more reading the information. “How early do children learn language?”

You thought for a moment, being able to memorise the card. You’d written it in red and put a sticker of a dog in the top left corner. Your mind knew it word for word. “Before they’re born, in the uterus.”

Namjoon clapped, leaning forward to kiss you. “Correct! Wow, that’s actually quite fascinating, so they can hear you talk before they’re even born.”

“Yeah, even in the mother’s tummy their ears pick up on sounds, which is why people talk to baby bumps.” He chuckled, picking up your study book, reading the blurb for himself.

“Damn, my girl really is smart.”

You spent the following day just doing your own thing. You felt guilty enough that’d you distracted Namjoon, so spent the day in one of the empty studios, just going over everything. Namjoon was able to crack on with his mixtape whilst you studied hard.

Time had passed by when he knocked on the door, walking in to see you for the first time in the day. “The boys are ordering takeout, so I’ve added on your usual, I want to make sure you get something in you today.”

“Thank you Joon, tell the boys I’ll pay them back in a bit.” He shook his head, walking over to rest his head on top of yours.

He looked down at all the new notes that you’d written throughout the day, smiling to himself. “You don’t have to pay them, call it my treat, a little something because I am so proud of you.”

“I don’t want you to pay for things for me,” you whispered, tilting your head back to look up at his tired face. You poked his button nose lightly making him squirm, “this is a one-time thing.”

“Yes boss!”

After filling up on takeout, you found yourself in a bit of a food coma the next day. It was your last day before your exam, so you wanted it to go perfectly. You took the familiar route to Namjoon’s studio, deciding to surprise him with some breakfast from his favourite café.

When you walked into the studio you were shocked, the room was messy, he could barely keep his eyes awake, his trademark silver locks were all scruffy. “What’s going on?” You asked, handing him the sandwich you’d bought.

“I stayed up all last night,” he informed, mumbling a thanks for the food. “I’ve finished the demo I’ve been working on so I can spend all of today with you, helping you to revise for the big day tomorrow.”

He touched your heart greatly, as your hands ran through his hair. A little yawn escaped him making you giggle, “you didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Yes, I did. I know how much this means to you, so I want to be here to support you.”

“B- “

“-no arguments, now sit, we’ve got a busy day of studying ahead of us.”

The two of you spent the whole day going over and over your notes. If you didn’t know it now, then you surely never were going to know it. As the clock hit seven, Namjoon began to shut all his computers down. “Home time,” he informed you.

“Joon, it’s seven?”

“I know, but you’ve got a big exam in the morning, so you need plenty of sleep. You’ll drive yourself up the wall if you keep looking at these, I’d much rather tuck you up in bed and make sure you get some beauty sleep.”

“Will you cuddle me?” You innocently asked, helping him to pack all your things away.

He walked over, and laced his hand with yours, locking the studio door, “of course I will.”

Exam day soon came around, the sixth and last day of stress and worry. Namjoon woke you up with a massive breakfast, helping you to go over the last of your notes. Yesterday he’d made you write a list of things you wanted to go over the morning of the exam to stop you doing too much.

“Right, good luck today, I’m sure you’ll smash it, give me a text later or something and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He still had work himself, so said his goodbye at his flat. After your exam this morning you were spending the day with your friends, celebrating the end of term.

“Joon, thank you so much for just being incredible this past week, I wouldn’t be able to do all of this without your support.” He leaned over to kiss you lovingly, snatching a bite of your toast as he did so.

You chuckled as he pulled away, a smear of jam up his cheek. “What?” He asked, confused as to why you were laughing. You reached over, wiping the jam away. “Oh.”

“Never change Kim Namjoon,” you smiled, waving him goodbye as he headed to the studio once more.

As you watched him walk away the nerves began to build, the one person that had kept you calm throughout this entire time had gone for the last time, and now the only person there to support you, was you.

You entered the exam hall, repeating Namjoon’s words in your head. As he tucked you up in bed, he gave you the sweetest speech about how your grades wouldn’t define you and that you’d find your way in life regardless of a couple of exams.

The hall was silent, lots of stressed bodies beginning to panic as the invigilator began the exam. Just as you had hoped your revision cards were at the front of your mind, most of the information rolling as you moved you pen along the page.

You couldn’t have imagined the exam going so well, and as you left the exam hall, you were ecstatic with how things had gone. You couldn’t wait to tell Namjoon, sending him a text as soon as you got out.

I knew you could do it, I’m so proud of you baby, enjoy your night, I love you.

His reply was instant, words could never express how happy he was for you.

Of course, the evening you spent with friends was great, but you couldn’t wait to see Namjoon and tell him all about it.

With a slight heavy head, you made your way to the studio once more, running down the corridors to get to his studio. The door was open awaiting your arrival, his arms open for you to walk into. You ran into them, leaping up with your legs wrapped around his waist, catching you effortlessly.

“So, I’m guessing it went well?”

“So well Namjoon!” You chuckled, peppering kisses along his jaw. “For the first time I can honestly say I’m feeling so confident about this, I genuinely believe I’ve passed. I answered all the questions, remembered my theorists, I couldn’t have done any better.”

He smiled down at you, kissing you sweetly. “I am so proud of you, this past week in the studio has been so worth it to see you achieve. You’re so smart and dedicated, you deserve all the success you’re going to get from this.”

Your eyes scanned the studio, all your notes were gone, the torment of two years of studying had disappeared. “Thank you for being there for the past week, you might not realise how special you are, but I appreciate you greatly.”

“You’re welcome love, it’s been amazing to spend so much time with you, even we were stuck in the studio. I love you.”

“I wouldn’t have had it any other way, I love you too.”

---

Masterlist

#bts #bangtan sonyeodan #bts imagine #bts fluff #bts angst #bts drabble #kim namjoon #namjoon #rm #namjoon imagine #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #rm imagine #rm fluff #rm angst

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hirunoka · 4 years

Text

Sorry for the long wait, dear @3tothe1. And I'm also sorry that it's pretty dialogue-heavy, and also short >< But I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer. I hope you have fun reading this chapter anyway. 💜

Gold Love by Moreid

CHAPTER 2

"That shouldn't be this hard! He said I could tell him if I needed any help, and I need that toolbox." Kayla reminded herself for the third time.

Everything was almost done in his new home beside the TV unit she needed to assemble.

She has been standing in front of Aaron's door for more than two minutes, one hand is ready to knock, while the other is holding a plate full of cookies.

Finally, she knocked on the door and not even after a minute it was opened.

“Hi, I brought cookies.”

“Heey, neighbor." Aaron beamed at her, trying to fix his hair a little. It looked all messy and soft to touch. "Do they contain any peanuts?" The doctor asked, looking at the plate. ‘Cause if they do, and I had some, I could realistically die.”

A moment of silence.

“...then you probably shouldn’t touch the ones on the right side, unless you crave death,” Kayla replied, handing over the plate.

“After my fiasco in that morning, I should probably start with the right side,” Aaron joked. “But in my defense, I wasn't fully awake yet. I know Spider-Man, especially fan of that super horrible dance Tobey does. Iconic. I was just lost for a second, I guess."

"Oh, hell no. Don't even go there." She laughed. Six days have passed since they met, and whenever they would come across each other, it would never be just greetings and 'have a good day' with them. Somehow they always found themselves laughing at something together. "And don't worry, it's not a big deal."

"Isn't it really, though? Because I'm pretty sure that your face said the exact opposite." He then pointed the cookies on the left side on the plate. "I assume these are the sweet, non-life-threatening peanut-free chocolate cookies?”

"Okay, okay, you got me." Kayla raised her hands in surrender with a grin. "What can I say? I love Spider-Man. And yeah, safe to eat."

“They look delicious, thanks. I thought I was supposed to bring you something? All the traditional rules say so. “

“Rules are meant to be broken,” Kayla shrugged, “fuck ‘em.”

"A rebel! Nice. Unless you rob banks in your spare time. You need any help with anything? I can grab my panda mask to join you in your illegal adventure real quick.”

"Didn't know you were this willing to root in jails."

"For real, though, you need any help with anything?"

"Actually, yes. Do you happen to have a toolbox? I have this large TV unit I need to assemble.”

“I can help you to assemble it if you want."

"Well, that would be good, but you really don't have to. I'd hate to bother you."

"Bother me? Never. I'm bored anyway, might as well put my hands to good use."

"If you insist."

"Let me grab my toolbox then."

"Don't forget to take your panda mask with you!" the photographer teased as Aaron disappeared down the hallway.

"I only use it for birthday parties and robbing banks with friends! No can do!" came Aaron's reply.

"Ah, too bad! I was kinda excited to see you in your panda mask. They are my favorite animals."

"I love them, too!"

***

"I must say, your place is really nice," looking around, Aaron said after they stepped into the living room. He whistled when his eyes caught the figure collections Kayla had, looking pretty impressed. The doctor then pointed at the figures: "May I?" he asked enthusiastically, to which she nodded.

"Feel free."

Seeing him walking towards her showcases reminded her of a kid in a candy store.

It was cute.

His big, blue eyes sparkled when he realized her Back to the Future figures were standing just like in that iconic movie poster; Marty is wrapped in his classic orange vest and sunglasses, checking his watch while Doc standing behind him.

"Wow, you have a Marty McFly figure?! That's rad. And not just him, but like, you have everything."

"You love Back to the Future, I see." Kayla smiled, leaning against the wall as he looked at the figures in admiration.

"Who doesn't? I love Star Wars as well, an excellent collection you got here. If one day you wake up to an empty showcase, it's not gonna be me. Just saying."

She shook her head with a laugh, "Now I’m happy that I don’t have a MJ figure yet, I would hate to see it gone. And thanks, I'll keep that in mind. Your place will be the first one I'll check if I ever wake up and find my collection long gone."

Aaron frowned at that a bit, "I just told you not to do that, you got it all wrong. I've always wanted a Delorean, by the way. I mean, not any Delorean, but," he pointed at the Delorean figure with his head, "a time machine. Then I could go back in time, and... nevermind."

"Girlfriend drama?"

"Oh, no. Not something as serious as that."

'He sounds like a kind of man who takes love seriously,' was Kayla's first thought when he said that. And her second thought was: 'I hope it's not girlfriend drama. God, please don't let it be girlfriend drama.'

"And I don't have one. A girlfriend, I mean."

YES.

Thank God.

"Well, that makes two of us." Kayla shrugged, "I don't have a girlfriend either. "

"Good to know." Aaron smiled at her, "How about a boyfriend?"

"Why? Are you offering?" She joked.

"With a collection like this? Hell, you can even expect a marriage proposal from me," he chuckled. "You didn't answer my question, though."

Not expecting a joke like this, Kayla laughed. "Wait until you see my DVD and record collection then. Eh, I had, now I don't."

"...you have a record collection?"

"Please don't look at me like that, it's old-school, I know, but I really love the-"

"No, no, no, I'm not judging you. I have a record collection, too. My friends love teasing me because of it. 'We're living in the twenty-first century, man! You are wasting your money for nothing, just download the damn song!' " He shook his head with a roll of his eyes, "They don't get it."

"Lucky for you, your neighbor does. That's mean of them. They shouldn't make fun of something you like."

"They mean no harm, but you're right. Do I make fun of Ryan's banana sticker collection, or Emeline stuffed cows collection that she has been collecting over seven years? Or Scott's pizza box collection? No, I don't."

Was he even serious?

Okay, his expression was pretty serious.

'Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh,' Kayla warned herself, just after saying people shouldn't make fun of each other, she couldn't laugh at that.

But after a while, Aaron was the one who let out a laugh, not looking serious any longer.

"Oh God, you should've seen your face."

"Wait, did you just- That was mean! Do they even exist? Emily and Scott?"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. Well, yeah. They do exist. Somewhere. That '15 Things You Won't Believe People Collect' article I've read says so, at least."

"I can't believe I fell for it."

"Anyway, let's get to work, and I can tell you about the rest meanwhile."

"I'm not sure if I wanna hear it."

Aaron shot him a look saying 'Are you sure?'

"...okay, I kinda wonder," she admitted, "shoot."

***

"Dwight is my favorite after Jim," Aaron said.

After finishing assembling the TV Unit, they had found themselves watching The Office somehow. Probably because it was on TV, and because apparently, Aaron loved it, too. "I can't believe you have seen the show for more than six times."

What happened next was one of the weirdest things ever happened. Because her cat Milo walked into the room and didn't even run away when he saw Aaron. What he did instead was going next to Aaron and playfully nuzzling him with his head.

"Hi there, beautiful." the doctor smiled lovingly and picked up the cat and placed him in his lap, petting it carefully and slowly so as not to agitate it. His movements were slow and gentle.

"Look what you got here! What's your name, little buddy? Where have you been hiding all this time?" He petted his head and under his chin, and then slowly got the rhythm of it as he scratched behind his ear, making the cat purr. Aaron couldn't help but giggle at the cute behavior.

"I hope you don't really expect an answer from him."

"It would be so awesome if he could answer, but since he won't do that anytime soon, what's his name?"

"Milo."

"A cute name for a cute- wait, why are you looking at me like this?"

"If you were me, you would look at me like that, too. Believe me."

"Why is that?"

"Normally he doesn't even go near to anyone but me, let alone letting them pet him in their lap."

"Aww, I must be special then."

'Maybe you are,' Kayla thought. It wasn't long until Milo was asleep.

"Oh, I didn't realize how late it was. I should probably go now, but you will have to take Milo from me yourself because I don't have the heart to disturb him. I just can't. Look at him! How can I?"

"How about we don't disturb him for twenty-two minutes and watch one more episode?" She offered, "Stress Relief is the next after this. It’s my favorite episode."

"Wow. You really do know the name of every episode. Impressing. Mine is Dinner Party."

“Good one. So? What do you say?”

“I say, you’re right.” Aaron nodded, smiling down at the sleeping cat. “Let’s not disturb him.”

#bill hader #aaron conners #3tothe1 #my writing

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danetobelieve · 4 years

Text

Mooseterious Circumstances || Blanche and Winston

Winston wasn’t sure why they were attending their 13th moose tour of Mooseventure tours. They had a great aunt who had once taken them here and the first tour had been genuinely interesting. But now as the blonde girl wearing a set of felt antlers that looked almost sadder then she did droned on in the same monotone that Winston had previously heard from an ecstatic and excited Pam. Winston couldn’t help that whoever she were, she could put more effort in. Turning and pressing their forehead out of the window, they gazed through their glasses and into the forest. They’d once seen two moose having sex in that exact spot they thought. The girl at the front of the bus said something bored and Winston sighed, feeling just as bored as they were. They would have to make a point of explaining to Aunt Ingrid that moosetours were only fun the first ten times you do them. Though Aunt Ingrid wouldn’t believe them. “Has the script changed in the last thirteen years?” Winston finally asked somewhat sarcastically, too bored to stay silent any longer, “Or do they make you say the same things they used to make Pam say?”

“A fun fact about eastern moose like the ones we’re seeing tonight - “ Blanche was going to projectile herself off this bus and pray one of the moose ate her. She hated Monday night tours most of all, they were never full and now she was just desperately trying not to make awkward eye contact with Winston while she droned on and on about Moose. Luckily, the stupid Bullwinkle J. Moose records died down a bit so she could stop pretending to make jokes that always fell flat without the enthusiasm of someone who gave a shit about moose. “- lack upper front teeth, but has eight sharp incisors on its lower jaw.” She paused, finally, taking a break. The moose weren’t even out tonight. It was a bad day to watch for moose. Maybe they decided to actually go get some frigge sleep this time - but Blanche wasn’t able to pick her speech back up because Winston interrupted her. “Uh -” she glanced behind her to Stan, who seemed more concerned with driving the bus. She looked back to Winston, her face flushing slightly. Blanche knew she was a bad tour guide, but that didn’t stop Stan for making her do it. “Well, you gotta stick to the script,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck, awkwardly. “Or the moose will get mad. Or something. They don’t like change.”

Wow. That really had been a fun fact. Winston rolled their eyes and yawned before Blanche turned to face them. Glancing out the window they were almost certain that they could see a bush walking along, but they ignored it and turned back to Blanche to address her. “The moose can’t hear you and even if they could hear you then what do you think they would do? I guess it is a moosetery...” wait what the fuck. Winston’s head snapped back to the window where sure enough, a bush with antlers had just walked out of sight. “DID YOU SEE THAT?” They exclaimed! This was suddenly shaping up to be the most exciting tour that they had ever had the pleasure of going on. “There is a bush with antlers and legs that is walking along.” They were suddenly very glad that the only other people on this tour were two very old and very deaf, at least by their apparent inability to speak at less then 300 decibels about the different varieties of hard candy that they enjoyed. “Literally right there!”

Moosetery. Blanche snorted, scowling as she turned to shoot them an I heard that look, but jumped slightly when they hollered asking if she saw something. “What?” No, she hadn’t seen anything and she honestly tried not too. Moose were actually kind of terrifying. They were, like, huge. Blanche glanced to the other two patrons on the bus. They didn’t seem to be complaining that Blanche had shut up for a minute. Blanche hopped off her seat, pulling out her moose-flashlight (the one that was just a heavy duty flashlight that someone stuck stickers of Bullwinkle on), and squinted into the darkness. “A bush? With antlers? It was probably just a moose. In a bush. Trying to grab something to munch on that doesn’t have snow on it or something.” Blanche muttered, frowning. She’d seen some pretty wicked stuff on these things, especially on quieter nights. Now she really wished Granny hadn’t fucked off to find some late night White Crest gossip. Blanche chewed on her lip, glancing at Winston. “It’s fine. Probably. Besides, I don’t have any fun facts about bush antler things.”

Just as she said that, Stan swore from the front of the bus. “Uh-oh,” Blanche muttered, and moved towards the front. “Stan, what’s uh-” there was a spluttering from the engine, and she grimaced. She knew that sound. They needed a new bus, they had for like 6 months but Stan kept insisting the engine was fine. It was not fine! They slowed to a stop, and Blanche ran a hand down her face, exasperated. “I guess we’re stuck looking at Moose here for - what the hell was that?”

This time, Blanche did see it. The corner of her light caught it, and her eyes narrowed seeing just a glimpse of the bush antler thing disappear. She pressed her lips together. “Alright everyone, we’re just having a little bit of a pause,” she said, more to the deaf old couple than to Winston. “Um. Ignore anything bush related. Or antler related. Unless it’s a moose. Then look at the moose. I’m going to uh… What the hell was that thing.” She didn’t know, but she wanted too.

“Your names Blanche right?” Winston replied as they read their name tag. “Bush antler things aren’t real, but that bush definitely stood up, walked a few feet and then sat back down out of sight, which is not something that moose...esss.” What was the plural of Moose? Meese? They weren’t geese. As the bus sputtered to a halt (not that it had been going fast anyway) Winston rolled their eyes. It wouldn’t take that long to walk back to town but maybe this was where they would actually step out of their comfort zone and go and investigate. Taking a deep breath they watched Blanche step off the bus and looked at the pensioners behind them. There was no way that they were staying in a stinky old tour bus with a bunch of boomers that probably didn’t even realise what a moose was. Ignorance was rife amongst the older generation and Winston was convinced that they wouldn’t make the same mistakes. “Wait, I’m coming to see this thing too! I saw it first!” They scrambled off the bus after Blanche, curious as to what the hell that was. They were sure it must have a rational explanation. After all, everything did.

“That’s a bad idea - you should stay on the - oh, well, I guess you’re already off the bus.” Blanche said, looking at them, rubbing the back of her neck. She was technically the employee here, if anyone should be investigating it should be her. Or maybe it should be Stan, but he was probably content with calling a tow company right about now. I have triple A it’ll be fine. Blanche mentally rolled her eyes, and shook her head, instead waving Winston to follow her. “My name is Blanche,” she said, referring to their earlier question. “What’s your name again?” She should know that. Their name would have been on the list, but she hadn’t really been paying attention. Not waiting for them to answer, she continued, only pausing slightly before going off the path. This is how horror movies start, Blanche. The voice in the back of her head was warning her. The white blonde girl always bites it first. She frowned slightly, wishing Granny were here so she could go ahead and take a look.She pointed her flashlight ahead, curiously looking around as they went in the direction the bush antler thing did. Maybe some shrubbery or something had fallen onto a moose or a big deer or something. “Ever had a moose tour up this up close and personal? If you want, I can tell you more fun facts,” she said sarcastically.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Winston felt their shoes crunch through a branch as they stepped off at the side of the road. “Too late to go back now I guess,” they replied. The acrid smell of broken bus filled the air and Winston wrinkled their nose in displeasure. Winston wasn’t sure why they were feeling so adventurous, but literally anything was better then staying on that bus with three people who were inching closer to death at every moment. At least Blanche had something to say. “I’m Winston,” they replied with a shrug, “like Churchill, except not at all like them.” They pulled their coat closer around their body, they wished they’d dressed for an outdoor hike and not for a day on a infamously hot bus. It was worse in the summer. That’s why Winston had asked for it now. But even still, there was no need for it to be 100 degrees in there. Somehow one of the ladies had still complained that she was too hot. Winston slipped their hands into their pocket. “That sounds just delightful, is it true that the skin that dangles underneath a moose’s chin is called a bell?” they replied equally sarcastically. “I think it was over here,” Winston said stepping forward and pulling out their phone, flicking on the flashlight they peered into the darkness, searching for something, though they weren’t sure what.

Blanche was probably the only person in the world that didn’t mind the sweltering sauna of the bus, but that was only because of her aversion to being cold. Maybe it had something to do with the bone chilling feeling that went through her everytime she passed through a spirit (and was thus recreated every time she thought about it) or maybe she just liked being toasty, but the bus wasn’t that bad. Her job already sucked enough, so maybe she would have quit by now if she couldn’t at least sit in comfort. She snorted quietly when they mentioned the dewlap under a moose’s chin. “Sure, when you see one reach out and shake it. See what happens,” she said, glancing at Winston, with a low grin. What would happen, should anyone ever be that close to a moose, was probably death. She pointed her flashlight over to where Winston has their phone flashlight, squinting slightly. “I don’t think -” Blanche didn’t get to finish saying what she didn’t think was a good idea, because something moved. And that something was big. “Uh - “ Blanche stuck her arm out, stopping in her tracks. Fuck, was it her fault if they died out here? Could Stan, like, get sued for that? However, some sort of morbid curiosity sort of propelled her forward a few more inches, raising her flashlight to see through the brush. Light from its eyes reflected back and Blanche froze again. “I found it - “ She wasn’t happy that she found it. It wasn’t a moose with a shrubbery cloak. It was, truly, a plant antler thing and it was looking right at them. Blanche backed up, and swatted Winston’s arm. “Time to go.”

“Hopefully I never get close enough to a moose to be able to do that, but even if I was, I wouldn’t. I don’t have an early death wish. Though that tour drove me to that at points, no offense, I know you just read the script right?” Winston wasn’t sure if this was necessarily the best avenue of approach, they weren’t trying to upset Blanche. They just assumed that this was a dumb job. Picking through the forest, Winston wasn’t looking exactly looking very hard. At this point they were almost certain that it had been a trick of the light or something akin to that. But then Blanche was swatting at their arm and backing towards them. Winston turned around, somewhat absent mindedly and almost dropped their phone, it slid from the grasp and they had to do an awkward juggle as they looked the plant moose thing dead in what looked to be very dead eyes. What the hell was going on with this town? One day they’re a quirky cosplay infested hotspot and the next there were rabid creatures lurking around every corner. “I agree,” they said, taking a step away from the moose and pushing Blanche forward. Flicking their flash light off they tried to move as quietly as possible, hoping and praying that they weren’t followed.

Blanche snorted. If they thought they had a death wish listening to the trash script she had to read every night, then they should listen to her inner monologue during the entire tour. She frequently wished for the sweet release of death. This was definitely not an ideal job - she missed when she was just the receptionist and gift shop attendant. At least that was easy and she could impress old people with her mental math when giving out change. But none of that was important because what in the Holy Fires of Hell was that shit. White Crest had always been a shit show. She was born and raised here, and she knew it was just weird. But, minus her being able to literally see dead people, she sort of always chalked it up to her brain being broken - not that she would ever tell Granny that. Anyway, White Crest wasn’t supposed to be a demon town it was just supposed like a Stephen King Weird Shit thing like all other Maine small towns. But, also, maybe hyper focusing on whatever was going on in her head was better than focusing on the giant plant monster moose that was behind them. Blanche had followed Winston’s approach, flicking her flashlight off as she was ushered forward as she desperately tried to keep quiet. Everyone in the surrounding area could probably hear the pounding of her heart though because she had officially crossed paths from being ‘curious’ to ‘anxious’. There was a rustling behind them that made her freeze in place for a half second, and reach back to grab their arm. She didn’t want to know “I don’t mean to over react or anything -” She said, glancing over her shoulder. She saw the eyes of the giant plant moose monster thing. That meant it was sneakily trying to follow them. Nope nope hell nope! “But we’re running.” She tugged on their arm. “Let’s go.” Time to run, her least favorite gym class activity.

Swallowing, Winston felt a bead of sweat form at the base of their hairline and run down the middle of their face, from the middle of their forehead and down their nose where it rested. It was beyond infuriating. Wiping it away, Winston was about to say something smart when they spotted the eyes and suddenly Blanche was dragging them headlong through the forest. Running had never really been Winston’s forte either. Being the asthmatic kid with glasses had left them jaded about physical activity of almost any variety. Except swimming. They liked swimming. “I don’t think this is an over reaction at all,” Winston replied honestly as they ducked underneath a branch before hurtling further into the night. They weren’t sure where they were going, but they were beginning to think that this wasn’t the way that they had come. Glancing behind them, Winston spotted the bush moose notice that they weren’t there anymore and decide that it was going to give chase in earnest. It was terrifyingly quick. “FUCK, fuck fuck,” Winston exclaimed, their voice full of fear, “RUN RUN RUN.” It was just behind them and Winston had no idea where they were headed. All they knew was that they had to get out of here, and straight away.

Bad, bad, bad. This was very, very bad. Helpfully, this was the only thought running through Blanche’s mind as they flew threw the forest. Her grip on their arm hadn’t loosened as they tore through the forest. They were definitely lost. Like, extra lost. But finding the bus didn’t exactly matter because Blanche was about 95% certain that a smelly bus wouldn’t protect anyone from a stupid Plant Monster. The thing was stupid fast - or maybe they were just ridiculously slow, Blanche didn’t know, but she didn’t care to find out what would happen once it caught up with them. If it caught up with them. Granny was always saying how she should be more positive, or something. Blanche took a hard left turn, finally releasing her death grip on Winston’s arm in a stupid attempt to try to confuse the thing. Winston was still swearing up a storm and she couldn’t really blame them. Run, run, run - like she had any other plan. Well, actually - as she scrambled over a log. “Do you think - we should climb?!” Climb a tree? Could the plant thing climb a tree? Could they get up a tree fast enough before it got to them? And then what did they do once they were up a tree? But maybe it would give them a second to rest and regroup.

“Climbing a tree sounds better then running through the forest,” Winston replied, sweat gushing down the sides of their face. They could already feel their chest getting slightly tighter as they worked to keep running. Winston was doing their best to follow Blanche. But then she turned left and Winston wasn’t exactly expecting it. Doing their best to stay with her, Winston turned left after her and felt their ankle twist painfully, sending them sprawling forwards into a bush. Yelping in pain, they tried to force themselves to their feet. “Ah,” they winced at the pain of moving but wrapped their long fingers around a branch to help their journey upwards, “ow ow ow ow.” They whispered to themselves, doing their best not to draw any attention to themselves in their vulnerable state. They knew that they weren’t going to be able to just sit here and eventually walk this off. They needed to keep moving or they would get trampled to death. The turn must’ve worked partially, but Winston could tell that it wouldn’t be long before the plant moose hybrid spotted them and came after them in earnest.

The stupid moose thing must have gotten confused in the dark, but she heard Winston yelp in pain and she knew that maybe she should have shouted a warning before they turned. That was wild, this was wild - maybe she should actually focus on safety right now instead of calling everything wild. Blanche hurriedly tried to find them in the dark. The whispers of ouch were helping considerably as she hoisted herself up into the tree. Oh, going to the gym was paying off. She could climb a tree! She hadn’t climbed a tree well… ever. Because there were bugs in there and it wasn’t lady like - or so Granny said. But Granny wasn’t here. She wasn’t sure how high they needed to go to get away from the moose plant thing, but they needed safety first. Once she was certain she was high enough, she went to help Winston. It was like an airline thing - help yourself before you help anyone else. She reached out her hand towards them. “Here, come on. Before it finds us. We need to - uh - regroup. Or something.”

Honestly, Winston needed to consider taking their fitness way more seriously. If they didn’t increase their ability to run it seemed entirely possible that they would simply die from the apparently monster infected town that was now their home. Which was really great. Winston was really enjoying the three near-death encounters that they had had. Glancing up, Winston saw that Blanche had somehow managed to hoist herself into the trees. A pretty good idea. At least they would be out of the way of the plant moose hybrid that they had managed to piss off with their mere presence. “How did you-” Winston decided not to ask about a good thing, hauling themselves up, they winced as they placed their bad foot on the base of the tree and pushed themselves up towards the bottom branch. Grabbing Blanche’s hand, they climbed slowly and painfully and hoped that they would make it on time.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry -” Blanche was hyper aware that Winston was in pain, and knew climbing was bad. “I go to the gym, sometimes, that’s why I - well, I mean, I don’t really climb stuff very often but - ah, careful, please be careful.” Blanche had two moods, and it was either a snarky mess or a panicky mess and she had officially switched over to panicking. Any rustling was automatically the giant plant moose, even if it wasn’t. But the second she got them squared away to her height she started fumbling with her flash light, debating if she wanted to turn it on. “Do you think -” Blanche didn’t need to finish her question, before she could hear the stupid thing searching for them. The noise it made sounded like a moose, but not a moose? And Blanche had heard a lot of weird ass moose noises in her life. She held her breath a moment, closing her eyes real hard. Come on, what the fuck were they going to do? Granny would have a solution. Granny always had a solution, but it wasn’t like she call up the ghost of her dead grandmother on her phone and ask. If she was going to call anyone, it should be the fire department. Or the police. Animal control? Supernatural Things of Weird Shit Organization? Blanche ran a hand down her face, panting slightly. Ugh. She was sweaty. She hated being sweaty. “Alright,” she whispered. “Okay. We can get out of this. We can get out of this. There’s gotta be a way. How - I mean, first of all, you can’t run anymore right?”

“No, it was a good idea,” Winston said as they finally managed to tentatively settle on the tree. Holding tightly, they did their best to keep their long legs from dangling where the creature could get them, “I just wish we had thought of it before I tripped.” Tripped was a kind word for being clumsy as shit. “Do I think that this thing is still out there?” Winston asked with a raised eyebrow, before nodding, “I can hear it I think.” They peered out into the darkness, wishing now more then ever that whatever they had managed to do with their hands could be done again. Maybe that would be enough to scare this thing away. Pulling their phone out, they glanced at it before sighing. “I don’t have any signal, do you?” They couldn’t even call for help if they wanted to. What the hell was this? A horror film? Winsont wondered who died first, the black kid or the sarcastic blonde. Either way they didn’t like their chances. “I can hobble, maybe,” Winston looked around, “if we could make a crutch or something I could go faster but otherwise … y’know maybe we could just wait this thing out?” Winston had to admit that they were out of other ideas. The hand thing, well they weren’t even sure if light escaping their hands was something that had actually happened and even if it had, what good would it be? They patted their pockets, coming up with their phone, their wallet, a mostly empty packet of gum, keys, their inhaler (which they took a puff of for good measure) and some change. “I’ve not got anything that I could use, not that I can think of anyway.”

“Can’t get any ideas until someone rolls an ankle. It’s, like, a rule or something,” Blanche joked weakly. All things considered, she was actually pretty comfortable in the tree. That had to count for a win. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, thanking every God that she never followed Stan’s stupid rule of not having it on her. “I have no service too - fucking Maine, man,” she groaned quietly, leaning her head back against the tree as she glanced at them in the darkness. She shrugged off her drawstring Mooseventure bag, knowing she didn’t have a lot of shit in it. “I have a first aid kit,” she said, glumly. “If you want it. I have to carry one, Stan - the bus driver - has the other in case of injuries. Other than that..” She didn’t have much else of use. A lighter for when she tried to be edgy and smoke cigarettes (they’re nasty and not worth it), a phone charger, and a balled up sweater. She stuffed her mooseventure flashlight back in the back with a sigh, straining to hear. She could still hear it, and she wasn’t too keen on the idea of waiting to become Plant-Moose Food. Blanche didn’t know what kind of stamina that thing had. What if it could outwait them? . She looked back at the contents of her bag, and grimaced. Plant. Well, plants didn’t do so hot against fire, did they? “Winston, I have a bad idea, and you’re not going to like it.” Blanche said, flatly. “But it involves a stick and my lighter.”

“School must have been a very painful time for you,” Winston replied glibly, “are you a masochist or something?” A smirk dragging itself across their face despite the amount of pain that they were in. Winston tucked their good leg around the thick branch that they were perched on, hoping that their inherently clumsy nature wouldn’t rear it’s wildly inconvenient head in that very moment. After all, falling out of this tree would be painful and potentially result in a trampling. Something Winston had no desire to experience. “This is when you wish you didn’t live in the middle of buttfuck nowhere?” Winston asked quietly, “I never ever have signal when I need it.” They waved their arm around for a minute hoping to find some signal. Whilst Blanche unpacked the contents of their bag, Winston nodded. “I can at least add a splint to my ankle and that’ll help support it,” they took the first aid kit gratefully off of her and began tightly applying a splint. It was a sore experience, the ache grew as the pressure was applied before subsiding to the dull ache it had previously been at. Then Blanche was talking about a stick and her lighter, “Did you miss the smokey the bear experience?” Winston asked with a concern, “Didn’t you know that open fires in a forest is the perfect recipe for disaster?” Blanche was right, they didn’t like it at all. “I’m not agreeing to this, but what is your idea?” It might be the only way they avoided living in the woods forever.

Masochist. That made her laugh. “Yeah, I do math for fun, too.” Except that part was true. Blanche did do math for fun - it was relaxing. It was too bad she didn’t have any other talent because maybe then she wouldn’t hate her life for majoring in accounting at school. Winston was right, though. She also never had signal whenever she needed it. Too many times, she had been stranded because her car died or had a flat tire or whatever the hell happened and there was no fucking signal on her phone. It was definitely like a White Crest curse or something. She looked over at them, grimacing when they asked about Smokey the Bear. “Sure, but I’d rather not become a snack for some supernatural bullshit.” Though, starting a forest fire was a real concern. Blanche didn’t even want to touch that ethical dilemma, if only because right now she was equating being eaten by a plant moose vs a small fire. “You take my moose flashlight so we find the damn thing - because right now I honestly feel like we need the Jaws music playing - I rip a really long stick off this tree, set the end on fire, possibly use some of the rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit, cause that’s flammable, right? And then I jump down, and try to set the thing on fire. And then hopefully, it burns, without causing too much damage, and you can come down, and we can hobble to safety. And, like, I’ll probably drive you to the ER for your ankle?”

“HEY.” Winston replied with a level of indignance that could not have been faked, “Math is very fun and extremely cool.” Math just made sense to them, it worked, it followed rules and there were never exceptions to that rule. Once you knew and understood the rule, you understood the math. Winston had often wondered why Winston was such a technological dead zone. For someone who’s entire life was a revolving door of trying to discover the latest trend, trying to get their hands on the latest piece of technology, living in what was essentially the stereotypical example of rural Maine wasn’t exactly helpful. “Supernatural bullshit?” Winston replied skeptically, “I’m sure there is a very rational explanation for this, one time, I heard about a form of torture using bamboo where they grow it through your body. This is obviously just that except on a much quicker scale. If we were to try, we’d be able to pull away the surrounding shrubbage and foliage if we could get near to it without being gored.” They considered Blanche’s plan. First of all they had to spot the thing, in the dark, when it was literally covered in a natural camouflage. Secondly they would need to set the thing on fire, hope that they didn’t set the surrounding forest on fire and then they had to hope that they would be able to get away. “Honestly, that all sounds like the worst plan I’ve ever heard, but I haven’t got a better suggestion and we can’t wait up here forever. You’re the one taking all of the risk, so if you’re comfortable doing it then I won’t stop you. I’m not sure I could anyway. Just have it known that I think this is a terrible idea.”

The natural defensiveness that came out of Winston about math was surprising - everyone hated math, it seemed. Except for Blanche, of course, who was tutoring people even in the freshman year of High School. Well, now it was herself and Winston. Maybe one day she could show them her freaky side journal where she wrote down equations to solve for fun. But maybe not when they were stuck in a tree, formulating a really bad plan and lowkey debating whether the plant moose was supernatural. “Why is someone torturing a moose with bamboo? That sounds fake.” Or maybe she was just more apt to call something supernatural because she saw dead people. Regardless, it didn’t matter what it was, they had to do something or risk staying in the tree until dawn. Which was still a few hours away. “Your aversion to the plan is noted,” she said dryly. She grabbed her flashlight and handed it to them, before grabbing her lighter and putting her bag back on her back. It only took her a second to break a smaller branch off the tree, before she carefully climbed back down. Climbing down was harder than climbing up, and that had to be some bullshit if she ever heard it. “Alright,” her feet crunched as they hit the forest floor. She was certain she could still hear the damn thing, just watching and waiting. It was dawning on her that maybe they really should have just waited.

Math was fun. Winston was willing to fight over it. Besides, their ability to use mathematics well had helped them develop their coding ability. “They were torturing prisoners of war in Vietnam, not moose. I promise you it was not fake, I got told that I made an inappropriate presentation on the Vietnam war during my last year at middle school because of that. I can promise you that it isn’t fake.” As Blanche ignored their good advice, Winston looked at the flashlight that she was offering them and reluctantly took it off of her. If they were determined to get themselves killed then Winston guessed that they would be helping them get a timely death. They heard her snap a branch off of the tree and begin her climb. As they did their best to light the forest up for Blanche and spot the thing that was keeping them there, Winston couldn’t help but feel the nerves and apprehension in their stomach. But they stuck at it, before spotting what they thought was the moose maybe twenty meters away from Blanche. “Psst,” they cried out in a failed attempt to be subtle, “I think it is over there.” They pointed off in the distance, very vaguely.

Blanche hadn’t meant the torture thing was fake, she just meant that someone trying to torture a moose with bamboo was fake. But she could explain that to them after she was was done saving both of their asses. Hopefully. Unless she died. Then Winston was going to think she thought something from the Vietnam War was fake, and they were going to think she was an idiot. Bad time to be focusing on that though - something that was also a bad thing to focus on was how much she really, really didn’t want to die. Her palms were starting to sweat again, and she suddenly had that nervous, jittery energy in her knees that made her feel like they were going to buckle under her. Awesome. This was already going fan-freaking-tastically. She wondered if Winston was going to judge her if she puked. Probably. She glanced in the direction they pointed out, and she saw it. The eyes. It was always the eyes. Blanche blanched slightly. Oh sure, easy to be brave in the tree, but now she was fumbling with her lighter, trying to set the end of the tree ablaze. And then, she fucked up. The moose-plant had started walking towards her and she panicked. “Oh no -” Blanche started backing up, trying to get her lighter to spark, but her stupidass was fumbling with it like an idiot. The moose picked up the pace and so did she - and she fell. Blanche shrieked as she landed flat on her back, the lighter flying out of her hand in a horror movie moment. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Winston watched Blanche with growing concern. It was almost as if everyone of their fears had been entirely founded and they had been completely right. Winston hated how clever they were sometimes. But they were pretty useless right now. They could only watch on concerned as their companion pulled the end of the tree close their lighter and attempted to spark it. She seemed to be struggling. Winston could only imagine the panic and terror that she was feeling and they suddenly wished that they had been firmer and insisted that she stayed there. Someone would’ve found them. Eventually. Sooner or later. They would’ve noticed that they were missing and someone would’ve come for them. But now Blanche was going to get herself hurt. Winston watched in terror as she slipped and fell, the lighter falling from their hands. Winston squirmed in terror and felt their grip on the branch disintegrate as they slid to the side, all balance failing them. There was a moment of terror where their heart sat in their mouth before they hurtled towards the ground. “Fuuuuuuuuckkkkk.” They could see Blanche and the plant moose and the ground rushing towards them at an alarming rate. Then they halted mid air and paused for a second. Winston felt out of breath and sweat beaded on their brow. The floor was literally inches away from their face. A second later and they fell the last few inches to the floor. Landing in a heap and with a mouthful of dirt they lay there for a moment, before realising that there was a giant moose trapped in a plant trying to kill them. Darting up, they winced in pain, before realising that the moose appeared to have submerged into a sinkhole. That was very convenient, but Winston wasn’t about to question a good thing. “Come on, we need to go.” They leaned down to help Blanche up, more likely to fall then actually be of any use. They suddenly felt exhausted. The adrenaline must be wearing off.

It was like a bad horror movie, and Blanche was the dumb white bitch in the horror movie that every screamed at to stop doing stupid shit. Blanche knew there was absolutely no way of rectifying this situation and terror and fear spread through her body as she realized she was going to die. Eyes shut tight to brace for whatever impact, nothing happened. Wait, what? Nothing happened. Blanche scrambled to sit up, brows knit together as she squinted in the darkness to see a fucking sink hole that the plant moose was currently trapped in. Winston was on their feet and trying to help her up, but honestly, as Blanche hurriedly pushed herself to her feet, she wasn’t really paying attention. “Let’s go before it learns it can jump 7 - 8 feet.” Blanche couldn’t even see the damn thing anymore, but she didn’t care. She grabbed a thicker big stick and handed it to Winston. “Use this as a crutch,” Blanche said, before moving forward. Blanche was jittery, the adrenaline hadn’t worn off from her yet, but she was still trying to figure out how a little sink hole just… appeared in the woods. “That was… convenient.” But, like plant-moose-monsters, she didn’t know anything about sinkholes. Maybe her very consciousness willed it to appear. Blanche snorted at the thought. “I don’t want to hear I told you so.”

Blanche was pressing a branch into their hand and ordering them to use it as a crutch while still quoting some moose facts at them. “Yes ma’am,” Winston replied sheepishly as they continued to feel the energy drain from their body. They hadn’t felt this exhausted since the night where that weird dog thing had attacked them outside of their home that they shared with Ricky. “If you don’t mention it to the moose, maybe the moose won’t realise that it can jump that high.” Honestly, Winston was thanking their lucky stars. The chances of a sinkhole being directly in the moose’s path were infinitesimally small. But it had saved Blanche’s life and Winston wasn’t about to question a good thing. Leaning heavily on the stick, they winced with each step as a sharp pang of pain rippled from their ankle upwards. “That was very convenient, but I’m not going to complain about a good thing. But you will be hearing an I told you so, because, I told you so, and you could’ve really gotten hurt, and then I’d have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.”

Blanche snorted. “I’ll refrain from saying it too loudly,” Blanche said, looking at them pointedly. Focused on breathing slowly so she wouldn’t start hyperventilating, she looked down at their ankle, frowning slightly. The stick crutch can’t have been helping, but Blanche knew that there was no way in hell she was going to be able to carry them. They were too tall and she was too short. Blanche didn’t even know where they were going, and she had a feeling stumbling through the forest wasn’t a great idea. She made a face at their I told you so and shook her head. Maybe they were right and she shouldn’t have been so impulsive, but it was too late to change anything now. Besides, she got her just desserts anyway when she really thought she was going to die. “Well, luckily, I didn’t get really hurt, and both of us are still very much alive, so your heart can rest in peace. Here, let’s… stop for a second.” They probably weren’t far enough from the sink hole, but it was too dark to see it now, so out of sight out of mind. Hopefully. She pulled her phone back out. “I have 2 bars,” she said, folding up her phone. “That’ll do -” In a couple seconds she pulled up her GPS. “Alright, we need to go this way to get back to the road - c’mon, before I lose service again.”

“If there is anyway that we can avoid attack from hybridised fauna and flora then I would really appreciate that,” Winston replied glibly, shaking their head and sighing. Leaning heavily on the walking stick, Winston couldn’t help but relate to their sorcerer PC in their old D&D campaign. Their character had been in possession of an enchanted staff. But Winston was just a normal human, living in a normal world where weird things had just decided that they were going to begin happening. Walking aimlessly through the forest, Winston prayed that they wouldn’t run into anything else that might try to kill them. They also prayed that they found a road. Reaching into their pocket, they checked their phone again and was somewhat disappointed to discover that once again there was still no signal. “Fucking Maine, why do you have bars but I don’t?” they murmured with distatste at the lack of bars displaying on the OLED screen before their eyes, “maybe I should’ve gone to school on the West coast instead.” They weren’t really being serious. They had good enough grades to go to school in a lot of places. But White Crest held a special place in their heart and they knew that they didn’t want to leave just yet. Wincing as they put their foot down, Winston nodded. “Lucky you, I’m so glad that you didn’t get hurt.” At least Blanche had located the direction they were meant to be going. Gritting their teeth, they held a hand out, “Please, lead the way oh fair lady.” The sarcasm dripped from the final three words, Winston should’ve been less spiteful but when you’re in a lot of pain and feel like you’ve not eaten a good meal in weeks … well it gets harder to maintain your composure.

“If we run into another plant moose-animal thing, I’m giving up. I had one dose of near-death-experience and I am not anxious for another any time soon,” Blanche said. The I told you so once again, and she let out a sigh. “I splurged for the iphone 8+ a few months ago.” Some old lady had come one the stupid moose tour 4 times in a row and had absolutely overtipped her. It was a good investment, too, because it was a lot better than the iphone 5 she had been using before. Still, she saw the signal drop down to one bar and she glowered at it. Don’t you dare, she thought. She glanced at Winston, feeling the sarcasm coming off them in waves. Well, if she had a series of unfortunate events that started with a stupid mooseventure tour that lead them to scrambling through the woods, she’d probably be pretty pissed off too. “How chivalrous,” Blanche commented flatly, glancing back at them with a raised eyebrow, before continuing forward. It wasn’t much of a path, but at least it was pretty level and there weren’t a ton of fallen branches or logs that they would have to climb over. And, they were pretty close to the road too. “Once we get to the road, we’ll call a car. I was serious about the trip to the emergency room.”

“I’m sure it’s just a moose who’s managed to get itself wrapped up in some brambles which are agitating it, or something like that. There’s no such thing as a plant moose. Not in the way that we think.” Winston had a perfectly rational explanation for everything, but especially this. “Ah well you should’ve gotten a phone that’s actually worth the extortionate amount of money that I’m sure that you inevitably paid for that thing,” they knew their tech and there was so much wrong with apple products that they didn’t know where to start. That was fact not opinion. They winced bitterly as they limped along. Right now they were tired, in a lot of pain and not exactly enjoying themselves. “I don’t know if a trip to the emergency room is really necessary,” Winston complained bitterly, “I’m honestly completely fine, you don’t need to worry about me, I’ll just walk it off.” They audibly winced as their foot made contact with the uneven surface of a root. “I’m fine, just fine...”

“Did you look at it in it’s freaky glowing eyes? Because you should have.” Blanche said, dryly. They were probably right, though, no matter what she thought she had seen in the woods. Then again, things were never as they seemed so who the fuck knew anything? Blanche glanced at them, snorting when they roasted her cell phone, and shook her head. “We’re not having the apple vs. andriod conversation in the middle of the woods - though, the extortionate price is worth it right now at this moment in time because I have service.” There was an implied and you don’t. Still, regardless of disagreements and them complaining that they were just fine and that there was no need to go to the emergency room, she looked at them doubtfully. “I dunno,” she said, a frown on her face. “You look and sound like you’re in a lot of pain. You need to get it scanned and looked at by someone who know what they’re doing.”

“Unfortunately I did look it in it’s freaky glowing eyes…” Winston swallowed, “as it was sinking into the .. well the ground. They kind of locked eyes with me.” They weren’t sure what the hell was going on. Raising an eyebrow, Winston shrugged. “My phone still has a headphone jack,” they replied with a shake of their head, “but I won’t subject you to that humiliation after the humiliation that we’ve both suffered today.” They winced as they walked a bit further. “But your service comes from your provider, not your phone.” They had to be right. It was pathological. They were just so smart that they had to always be correct. They couldn’t help it. “I probably just rolled my ankle and sprained it a little, I’m sure that it is completely fine.” They were sure of none of those things.

#p: blance #wickedswriting #para #mooseterious circumstances #chatzy para

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rom-e-o · 6 years

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;ljfsldk this was very hard to choose: "9) a sunrise, a bumper sticker, the color orange" ^^;

[Aaaand finished! Thank you so much to @livefreeordie13 for this amazingly fun prompt! I got to stretch my creative muscles in figuring out how to rope everything together, and honestly, it was great fun. I hope you enjoy!]

[Summary: Yu and Yosuke take their first vacation as boyfriends. Their destination is a lakeside condo, three hours outside their apartment in Tokyo. (Implied/nonexplicit NSFW situations)]

AO3 link is here!

Yosuke’s eyes squinted as hard as they could but to no avail. He just couldn’t make out the words from his current vantage point.

They had been driving behind the same car for almost twenty minutes in light city traffic, and for that same amount of time, Yosuke had strained his eyes in an attempt to read a tantalizing bright but still weather-born bumper sticker.

“It’s too far away to read,” he noted aloud, leaning forward in the passenger’s seat in a futile attempt to read the small and weather-worn sticker through the windshield. “Catch up to them!”

“What?” Yu asked, shooting his boyfriend a quizzical stare from his position in the driver’s seat. “Why would I want to do that?”

“I want to read the sticker,” Yosuke explained simply.

“You want me to tailgate so you can read someone’s old car decal?” he replied, silver brow lofting. “Are you serious?”

“C’mon, we aren’t going that fast and the traffic is totally light right now!” Yosuke said with a whine. “Please, partner?”

Yu rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. His foot put a hair of extra pressure on the accelerator, just enough to speed up their rental car a few extra miles per hour. It was enough to satiate his boyfriend, who leaned forward in his head and practically glued his eyes to the windshield in an attempt to read the semi-faded bumper sticker in front of them.

Once they got a couple feet close, Yosuke let out an odd laugh od delight, signaling to Yu that the distance breached was sufficient.

“It says, ‘Honk if…you like big dicks,’” Yosuke said. His tone had changed mid-sentence from intense excitement to expressionless disbelief.

He reread the words a couple times over just to make sure he was reading things correctly. Sure enough, he’d read the raunchy text correctly the first time.

“Wow, that’s totally what it says after all,” Yosuke said, leaning back in the seat as a dry laugh crackled from his throat like ash from a parched fire. “Geez, I remember people in the city being more brazen when I was growing up, but that’s really…”

Yu laid on the horn as loud as possible.

The strident sound completely severed Yosuke’s sentence and sent a shock through his body so strong that he almost thought he could have snapped the seatbelt in two.

“Hey!” Yosuke squeaked loudly. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What?” Yu asked between two extra loud, incessant honks. “You wanted me to speed up to read the bumper sticker, right? Well, I read it too, and I’m agreeing.”

Yu spoke with his usual deadpan humor, but the shadow of a catlike grin on his face was unmistakable. Anyone who knew Yu could see the silver-haired teen was being smug, and Yosuke knew him better than anyone. In addition to being roommates in college together in Tokyo, they’d also started dating shortly after high school.

The car in front of them, which had been driving at a steady pace, slowed and changed lanes. The vehicle sank back in the lane beside the couple’s rental car. A few other young adults who also looked like students, with trendy clothes and goofy grins, rolled their windows down to whoop in agreement and loudly thank Yu for his honk of support.

Yu gave them a thumbs up in solidarity and Yosuke’s soul left his body in absolute embarrassment.

Their first vacation as boyfriends was already going swimmingly well.

“I’ll get us checked in at the front desk,” Yu said as he pulled the car into a parking spot near the resort’s lobby. Upon opening the car door, the aroma of damp foliage and running water greeted his senses.

The summer air was warm, but not humid. A light breeze created a deafening rustling sound that made Yu realize just how thickly wooded the area was. The tree canopy that cascaded down the valley all the way to the lake’s edge swayed softly. With each gust, scatter of petals peppered the pavement below with a pink and green splatter.

The scenery was so different from Tokyo’s. In fact, it almost reminded him of being back in Inaba again. The sounds of car horns and aimless street chatter were replaced with sounds of kids playing in a nearby pool and of cicadas lazily chirping along the arboreal pathways.

Yosuke silently unclicked his seatbelt and staggered out of the seat. He shot Yu a half-lidded look over the roof of the car as he rounded the vehicle to make a beeline to the entrance. The gaze was too soft to be a glare but way too heated to just be a casual glance.

It was a very nondescript look that told Yu he’d done a fantastic job at teasing his friend.

“Are you sure you can handle that?” Yosuke asked cautiously. “Don’t make it weird.”

“What do you mean?” Yu asked with an impish grin.

Yosuke just sighed hollowly in response, which only made Yu laugh even harder. He said, “Hang out here. I’ll be back in a minute, partner.”

Failing to notice the faint blush on Yosuke’s face, Yu jogged up the steps briskly and tugged the door open. Before it shut, Yosuke could hear his boyfriend greet the person at the front desk amicably and, as usual, with complete normalcy. The desk attendant would have never guessed that the nice, silver-haired college student she was charging for a room had just spent almost an entire three-hour carried from Tokyo honking at every ridiculous bumper sticker and then proceeding to give every passing car a appreciate wave when they stopped to compliment him along the roadway.

They’d never know, and yet, it sent a tiny thrill through Yosuke. It felt special and a little extra romantic that he was the only one that knew his boyfriend’s weirdness.

After stretching his nimble legs with a few athletic poses that Chie had taught him, he took a moment to saunter to the edge of the parking lot to peer down the edge at the resort’s scenery below.

Even he, a tried-and-true city boy, had to admit that Yu had picked a fantastic place for their vacation. It was picturesque and rural but lacked the usual ruddiness of some other countryside locations.

At first, Yosuke had been hesitant to take a vacation to a resort at all. It just didn’t seem like a typical trip for a college student to make, in his opinion. However, when Yu brought up the idea of spending an entire trip together and away from work and the crazy hustle and bustle of Tokyo, it suddenly sounded a little more appealing.

Even though the two were roommates, it was hard for the two to find time during the day to spend time with each other as a couple. Yu was a popular guy, after all. People constantly vied for his attention, and even on his days off, he usually had a packed schedule. Not that Yosuke could get too mad at him. After all, Yosuke was a workaholic that spent long days and hours stocking storerooms at night and taking business classes during the day.

Taking a trip sounded like a great way to finally schedule in some alone time without interruptions. At least, that’s what Yosuke desperately hoped for. It had been criminally long since the two had had any time alone together for an extended period of time, let alone days to devote solely to each other. They probably hadn’t had such ample free time for each other since high school, but the responsibility of catching a serial murderer forced the prospect of romance to the bottom of their booked priority lists.

Now, they only had to focus on each other.

Had he not been standing in a public parking lot, Yosuke would have actually cheered at the thought.

The sound of the lobby door chime brought Yosuke out of his daydreams.

As he turned to meet Yu back at the car, the two exchanged a brief high-five. Their hands were still freezing from having the car’s air-conditioning on full-blast for the summertime drive.

“We good to go?” Yosuke asked with a grin.

“We’re good to go,” Yu replied with a laugh as he lifted a hand to jingle two room keys. “One for you, and one for me.”

Yosuke laughed a bit. “I get my own key, huh? Fancy. You’re not going to hold me hostage, partner?”

The teasing was well-received, and Yu reciprocated with a leer that made his silver eyes look even more molten than usual. “Only if that’s what you want.”

Yosuke rolled his eyes. With Yu’s hand still against his, Yosuke decided to seize an opportunity to tease Yu in return. Without any warning, he leaned in a pressed a gentle kiss to Yu’s jaw before they pulled apart moments later. The touch of Yosuke’s lips against Yu’s cheek was brief, but it was honest and uninhibited in the appreciation it conveyed. It was a warm, but fleeting sentiment that left always left Yu wanting more.

While Yu always adored his boyfriend’s affections in any form, something about Yosuke’s signs of love had changed recently in a positive way.

The most recent kiss was quite different from the pecks Yosuke used to give Yu when they’d first started dating. The touches had originally been just as sweet but were just as heavy with hesitation and shyness.

Now, Yosuke freely kissed him with confidence and self-assuredness that came from being in a loving, committed relationship.

It gave Yu unbelievable joy to see Yosuke becoming comfortable in his own skin.

“Thanks again,” Yosuke said with an airy laugh as he pulled away from the kiss with a shallow sigh.

Yu cocked his head, already missing the feeling of Yosuke’s lips against his skin. “For what?”

The toe of Yosuke’s sow swirled gently against the asphalt below.

“Well, it was your idea to come here in the first place,” he said sheepishly. He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck as he fumbled through his sentiments. “Also, you’re paying for the room, right? I had no idea this place would be so nice. Are you sure you don’t want me to chip in?”

Yu shook his head, bangs swaying gently over his relaxed brow.

“We already agreed,” he said with a wide grin. He reared back his arm with a gentle flick before lowering his hand into Yosuke’s where he deposited a room key. “I pay for the room and you get to pay for food.”

The rental car, along with a pre-loaded fuel card, had been an anniversary gift from the rest of the Investigation Team. Rise especially had been a huge help and, thanks to her plentiful amount of sponsorships for gigs and commercials she’d done, was able to hook the others up with an incredible deal.

“Are you sure?” Yosuke asked again.

“Positive,” Yu replied with finality. That was the end of the matter.

Yosuke recognized the tone immediately from their days fighting Shadows in the TV World. Even though his days as the leader of their Investigation Team were long gone, he could still hear it in Yu’s voice when he spoke with decisive finality. The answer left no room for argument, and honestly, Yosuke hardly minded.

“Don’t worry,” Yu said, tossing Yosuke a sideways grin as he unlocked the driver’s side door and climbed back into their car. “I already have some amazing cat cafes picked out where we can have lunch all vacation long.”

And there he was. His cat-obsessed boyfriend Yu, not the fearless and emotionless leader from the TV World, was back with him.

“You dork,” Yosuke replied, but the words lacked any crunch.

Room keys in hand, the couple jumped back into their rental car and started down a narrow road that was littered with tall, rustic condominiums on either side.

It took a little bit of searching and swerving through the unmarked parking lots before the couple successfully put their hands together and spied the building with their designated room. The couple’s condominium was a corner unit on the top floor and had plenty of windows that would provide a splendid view of the lake behind the wooded resort.

Upon finding a spot and making absolutely sure to set the parking brake on the uneven asphalt, the duo hauled their bags out of the trunk and made the trek up the outdoor staircase to the top floor. It was an exhausting hike, but neither complained because they both knew it would be worth the work. It also helped that they’d both packed light. Yu was an expert at packing his life into a suitcase and Yosuke really only needed Yu, his phone (which held all his music), his headphones, clothes, and hygiene items to be content.

When they arrived at the door, a cute autumnal wreath decorated the wooden surface. It was decorated with oak leaves and what looked, and smelled, like star anise. It was the perfect decoration for such a woodsy getaway. It really felt like they had traveled overseas somewhere together.

“You do the honors,” Yu said with a flamboyant bow as he took a step back. “I already know what it looks like inside.”

Yosuke’s caramel eyes crinkled at the playful gesture. “This place must already be getting to you. You’re already more…extra than usual.”

Yu chuckled lightly at the statement but made no effort to object. With another resigned sigh from Yosuke, he slipped the key into the lock fully and turned it fully. A satisfying click followed the turn, and the door gave way easily with little pressure.

Sure enough, Yosuke was amazed at the interior. Actually, flabbergasted would have been a more accurate word. The ability to form words temporarily left him for aa few moments.

The unit was a spacious, one-bedroom condo with a large living area and tall windows toward the back that offered a perfect panoramic view of the shore.

The interior’s décor was minimalistic, with rustic accents that added to the lakeside ambiance without being too heavy-handed. A few carved bear statues and natural paintings decorated the dark oak antiques and warmly-lit walls.

It was a stark contrast to the minimalistic and natural décor that he was used to from places like the Amagi Inn. Their current room was almost Western in nature and, while it was a strange aesthetic, it was oddly fitting for the rural resort. It was a nice breath of fresh air.

Yosuke suddenly had a feeling that Yu had chosen the resort partially due to the visual appeal. Even though they were only three hours from home, everything still felt foreign enough to feel like an overseas vacation. It felt as if they were hundreds of miles away from their responsibilities when in reality, they were only three hours outside Tokyo.

The kitchen, located to the immediate left of the front door, was simple but furnished with modern appliances that would even put the most expensive stock at Junes to shame. Every surface glittered with chrome perfection as if they’d never been touched before. The lines crisp designs harbored a futuristic minimalism that came dangerously close to clashing with the bucolic décor but fell short thanks to the other homey decorations in the kitchen, such as a few ceramic cat statues and a bouquet of sunflowers lurking suspiciously close to the door. No doubt the flowers were a gift from the staff, and Yosuke wouldn’t have been surprised if Yu had told the staff the bright yellow flowers were his favorite.

The rest of the furniture was made from soft leather and cozy faux furs. A fake fireplace also lurked in the corner near the television. While the fire and logs were most definitely fake, the rosewood mantle looked authentic and polished to perfection. Yu really had picked the perfect place for a getaway.

In the back of the condominium were floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the lake. The view was so clear that Yosuke could see right through to the water’s edge all the way from the front door.

It was truly a stunning view, especially since the evening had begun to roll in. The sun hung low over the water, making the liquid surface glow an intense silver that reminded him of Yu’s eyes.

It looked like a professionally designed room from a furniture catalog or a magazine. The idea of seeing Yu push up his sleeves and using his masterful skills in such an appealing setting was almost enough to make Yosuke weak in the knees.

Before Yosuke could become completely distracted, something captured his attention and made him refocus on the kitchen. On the slate countertop was something bright that immediately stood out against the backdrop of neutral tones and earthen shades.

There was a tray of sugar cookies, each one decorated with bright orange icing and sprinkled with white sprinkles. There also appeared to be a card on top of the wrapped cookies. While he was too far away to make out the writing, he could spy the names of his friends scrawled in a rainbow amalgamation of signature inside the paper bifold.

“Looks like the staff members weren’t the only ones to send us gifts,” Yosuke said cheekily as he pointed to the tray of frosted orange cookies.

Yu inched his way inside and sat the suitcases down with a huff. He gave the sweets a knowing smile before flicking his gaze back to Yosuke. “Is that so? How thoughtful.”

It was impossible for Yosuke to resist. They’d been driving all day long and he was starving for any kind of calorie intake, even if it came in the form of a condensed sugar cookie. As he peeled back the wrapper and examined the disks, he could see that the icing was homemade but that the floury cookies were absolutely from the Junes bakery department. He couldn’t even care.

He broke one of the large cookies in two and sank the half with more orange icing, another favorite of his, into his mouth. The relief brought forth by the sugary-sweet rush of confectioner’s sugar was almost immediate.

“Holy crap, these are delicious,” Yosuke said, mouth full of crushed cookie. He heard Yu laugh behind him as he completely devoured the remaining half-moon of sugary deliciousness.

“Dude, you have to try these cookies,” Yosuke said, keeping the remaining half of the treat safe and sound in his other hand while he swallowed. “It’s so good! Seriously, they must have stolen your icing recipe—woah!”

The young man hadn’t had a chance to finish his review of the treat due to that fact that Yu, after shutting and locking the door to their apartment, had bent down and lifted Yosuke up into his arms. While they two were very close in height, Yosuke was lighter and less bulky than Yu was. As a result, Yu took advantage of his strength as often as possible to surprise Yosuke with impromptu embraces and multiple occasions where he would lift Yosuke into the air or over his body. He did this on multiple occasions inside and outside their bedroom.

At the moment, he was holding him bridal style in a pose that felt oddly familiar to Yu from their days in high school when they already knew they’d become destined partners, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Not that it really mattered. The priceless look on Yosuke’s face always made the effort worthwhile.

“What are you doing? Yosuke asked. “Don’t tell me you’re going to carry me over the threshold or something like that.”

Yu smirked widely. This time, Yu was the one to drop a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. “I was actually just planning on carrying you to the bedroom instead.”

The bluntness of the statement caught Yosuke off-guard. At first, he was stunned to silence, but quickly let out a laugh as he wrapped his arms around his partner’s neck and hoisted his face upwards again to meet Yu’s in a kiss that took no time to become feverish.

The sound of Yosuke’s heavy sigh was enough to create a bulge between Yu’s legs.

“I can’t think of a better way to start this vacation,” Yosuke added with a laugh, lips trailing down Yu’s jaw delicately. “But…”

He lifted the cookie to Yu’s mouth and pushed the sweet treat between his lips.

“I’m being totally serious,” Yosuke quipped with a wink. “You need to try this cookie first.”

Yu groaned through the biscuit but obviously nodded. It did give his lips and tongue a perfect dosage of sugary flavor, which Yosuke no doubt appreciated seconds later when Yu’s lips pressed against his in another passionate encounter and the bedroom door was kicked shut.

Minutes turned to hours.

By the time the two had emerged from the room, the sun had slipped completely beneath the surface of the lake. Night had overtaken the resort for a few hours until, inevitably, the rays of dawn started to break through a couple hours later. A lavender skyscape of pre-dawn stretched over the landscape, seemingly going onward into eternity.

At least, that’s how it looked to Yosuke.

He was dressed in one of the resort’s complimentary bathrobes and was seated on the condo’s back porch. With his chin propped up with on arm, his caramel eyes wandered skyward in dreamlike wonder. It had been a while since he’d seen a sky so clear. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d awoken early enough to watch the sunrise.

It seemed the resort was having an effort on both of them.

He’d been so busy daydreaming that he hadn’t even noticed the sound of footsteps slowly approached from behind. Before he knew it, a pair of very familiar lips was pressed against his cheek. When he let out a laugh at the tickly sensation, Yu placed another kiss on the nape of his neck.

“Out here daydreaming?” he asked sweetly.

“It’s hard to daydream when reality already feels like one,” Yosuke sighed contently.

Yu circled around to meet him moment later. In his hand, he held two brandy snifters. In each one were jagged pieces of ice and a couple jiggers of pale, warm liquid. The soft aroma gave it away that each glass was filled with orange cognac. It was one of Yu’s favorites, and Yosuke was quite fond of it as well.

He had to wonder if Yu had secretly packed the bottle in his luggage or if he’d run to the store while Yosuke had been in the shower.

Either way, the sneaky tactic warmed his soul as he accepted one of the glasses with a ‘thank you’ that was so soft-spoken it was almost lost on the wind. Thankfully, the two were so close that they barely needed words to communicate with each other.

“Since you brought the booze, shall I propose the toast?” Yosuke asked with a little lilt in his voice.

“Oh?” Yu asked, his moonlight-colored brow crested in curiosity. “Go on.”

His glass moved seamlessly through the air as he gently clinked the crystal rims together. The soft ring sounded like a bell.

“To us,” Yosuke began confidently, shifting his gaze from the sky and back onto Yu’s face. The unabashed eye contract actually brought a coral flush to Yu’s cheeks and Yosuke continued, “The two nerds that stayed friends long enough in high school to know that they loved each other. And…”

He pulled his glass back and leaned forward. His lips met Yu’s in a kiss and, unlike last time, did taste of icing and sugar cookies. This time, the only taste he could sense was Yu’s, naked and uninhibited by any other flavors. The feeling of his mouth, softly agape in surprise against his, was the most amazing sensation Yosuke thought he’d ever encountered. He felt as if he could get more intoxicated off his boyfriend’s kisses than the strong cognac.

Yosuke slowly sat his glass on a nearby table and rose from his chair. He moved over Yu was his usual grace and agility, resting his lap over his boyfriend’s hips so that they locked together in perfect comfort.

Once there, he could feel a distinct pressure against the inside of his thigh that sent a thrill straight up his spine.

His hands, still cold for the drink, cupped Yu’s blushed face. He asked in a low whisper, “Say, Yu…how many days do we have here again?”

Stammering, Yu replied with some difficulty, “Um…five days. Um, four nights too, technically.”

The flustered reply brought another wicked grin as Yosuke bent down and captivated Yu’s lips. This time, he was the one leading their embrace and holding Yu tight in his arms, pinning him to the chaise beneath them with careful pressure.

His lips coasted over the shell of Yu’s ear, pink with an obvious blush. Yosuke whispered deeply against the rise and fall of Yu’s deepening breath, “Plenty of time, then.”

#Souyo #Persona 4 #Yosuke Hanamura #Yu Narukami #long post #text post #livefreeordie13

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sugaskoffee · 6 years

Text

smoke with me | one-shot

↪ Min Yoongi × Reader

↪ Genre: very soft (af) angst

↪ WC: 2.3k

⤵ Sometimes lonely strangers shared a cigarette...

It's hard not to get a rush of nostalgia when revisiting an old place, sound, smell, word; something dear to you.

Something as simple as watching a sunrise on the last day of summer bears more meaning than a picture of it. Something vain as the earthy smell of early autumn holds pockets of memories that unfold before you like the feeling of smiling after a long cry; all so bittersweet. Especially missing something that you can't get back in the way it once was.

That feeling. That feeling. It's what you felt when thinking of him.

Hands fiddling with a solid square of metal, your sleep-deprived eyes kept blinking from the lukewarm wind. Dawn was creeping up with every slow minute, splashing light onto the dark canvas of the sky. Your bare legs were covered in goosebumps despite the cement being warm beneath you. If not for the morning cold pinching your nose, you would've most likely laid back and fallen asleep.

You didn't know how long you sat outside the building, occupying one of the wide stone-built steps, but it didn't feel as long as usual. There was just something about the night --the world seemed to stop when the moon took over.

A deep sigh pulled you out of your head. The guy in your peripheral vision was sitting a mere foot from you; your co-worker, Min Yoongi.

Shoulders rolling in a stretch, your hands continued to fiddle with the metallic lighter in your grasp. You never looked away from the brightening horizon.

There was a shift, then a low mutter of curses, then you felt the need to look over.

Bleached hair covered with a knit hat, dark almond eyes, black sweater, plain jeans, and dry lips holding a cigarette which had yet to be smoked.

A smile lifted one side of your mouth and you outstretched your arm, offering the boy the lighter that wasn't even yours.

"Thanks," he muttered, voice rough as the smoke he constantly inhaled. "Want one?" He pulled out another cigarette from his pocket. You didn't care to smoke at the moment but you took the stick anyways.

It sort of became a routine between you and him; smoking in comfortable silence after your work hours in the club ended.

But today was the weekend. Neither of you on shift. Your manager threw a midnight party for all the employees at his place, which ended with everyone passing out around three in the morning.

You decided to sober up from the drinks you consumed by getting some air and found that Yoongi thought the same. You ended up sharing silence with him till the sunrise. A Deja Vu came upon you but you tried not to dwell on thoughts of the past; it was dead anyway.

"You waiting for someone to pick you up?" Yoongi asked, bringing you out of thought. Him speaking up meant it was time to soon neglect this shared moment between the two of you.

"No," You shrugged, eyes averting to the cigarette in your hands. "I walked here. Since it's not far from where I live,"

The blonde hummed; inhaling in, exhaling more smoke. "Sounds tiring." A pause. "I'll give you a ride.. if you want."

You blinked over at him, lazy smile shaping your lips. "First cigarettes, and now rides? I'd say you're starting to like me, eh?"

Picking up on your jesting tone, Yoongi let out a single huff of a laugh, dry lips curling up just slightly. "Listen, do you want the ride or not?"

"I should say yes before you regret asking me and take your words back." You said, teasing grin holding your lips.

"Already regret it."

Chuckling, you shook your head. He didn't have to worry about that; of course you didn't expect him to actually take you home.

Looking up front, you found the sun up in the sky in its full circular form. It burned your eyes to the point of seeing purple spots, but you smiled at the warmth it radiated on you. With sunlight kissing your skin, the breeze didn't seem all that cold anymore. With Yoongi beside you now, your heart didn't feel all that pained.

Sadly, all of this was but for a moment. You just wished you could bottle it and drink it in whenever your heart was missing again.

Sighing, you slipped the unsmoked cigarette in the pocket of your oversized bomber jacket and stood up. Pulling at the hems of your shorts, you slid the hiked-up denim further down your thighs before making it down the handful of steps. The sun was up; the best part of the day was over with and it was officially Saturday. Time for you to journey your way back to your apartment and get a good shut-eye.

"See you Monday." You said, shoving both hands into your pockets. You tried your best not to look over your shoulder at Yoongi. You failed.

The blonde tilted his head, confusion in his eyes.

"My car's not that way," he said before your feet could make a right turn out of the property.

"Oh, I wasn't-"

"You know," The boy rose to a stand, half-stick of the cigarette between his lips. "I meant what I said. I'll give you a ride. You look too tired to even stand."

Blinking, you watched Yoongi walk over, a small smile playing on your face. You held back from saying thank you as you followed him to his car. Giving your thanks now meant that this rare exchange between you and him had come to an end. You didn't want it to end. Not yet.

You told him your address instead.

Settling in the passenger seat, your eyes took in the interior of Yoongi's car, finding nostalgia tucked in the creases of the black leather seats and cup holders. You held back from saying all that you missed about it, but you couldn't keep your hand from touching the old price tag sticker that was on the grey glove compartment. Despite being chipped and washed out of its written price, it remained faithfully glued to the silver handle. You felt surprised that it was still there. It's been six years since it's been stuck on.

Feeling stupid touching the sticker so memorably, you decided to ask Yoongi about it.

Placing his phone into the cup holder, the blonde shrugged and the car came to a start. "I don't remember how that got there, honestly." He said. "Never asked anyone to explain it to me,"

"Oh. I just thought this was your car-"

"It is mine. It's just... I got into an accident a few years back," Yoongi spoke so calmly, so rehearsed, as if he's explained this exact issue so many times before. Hands on the wheel, he guided the car out of the parking and onto the busy road. "Ended up in a coma and woke up a few weeks later with four years of my life erased. Including me getting this car, so.."

You swallowed hard and tried not to let the discomfort in your chest show by expression. "Wow." You breathed, clearing your throat. I'm sorry was there on your tongue, but you figured he was tired of hearing it now. "That must.. really suck." You said instead, earning a small chuckle from him. Though, you didn't find it funny at the least.

"It does." Yoongi sighed. "Four years may not seem like much but it's still a big chunk of my life. Just..sucks always asking my family about what went on in my own life, you know?"

Many forbidden questions rose up your throat again; you were careful not to let them escape. That wasn't the plan.

An exhale left your mouth, heavy and collecting. Eyes focused outside the glass windshield on the cars standing in the other lane.

"Mmm, I can imagine," you replied absently. "Experienced something similar, actually. Well, not me, but someone I know -knew."

"How so?"

"Hmm?" You looked back at the blonde, not expecting him to ask.

He glanced your way momentarily, unbothered as always; one curious brow arched, finger tapping on the steering wheel. The second of silence passed too long and Yoongi shook his head, "Nevermind," He said. "None of my business."

Opening your mouth, you closed it right after. There was a war in your mind about whether you should or shouldn't tell him about your first love; a guy who ended up forgetting you because of your stupid decisions. Here you were, not less of a stranger to him, knowing that the next time you'll see him at work things will go back to the way they used to; there was no point, really.

Still. You sighed and started speaking. "He was very close to me. He also had this condition since birth that cut off a few months of his memory, and it was triggered..very heavily after a certain incident." The more you spoke, the more pain you released from your chest. It was as if you were telling him a story that you've carried with you since childhood. "Long story short, he couldn't recognize me when I came to visit him at the hospital, and his parents convinced me it was best if I didn't try; it was too much of a risk in his state. So I didn't. Not even to this day. But.. I don’t know, I should've... right?"

A red light flashed and the car slowed to a stop again. Yoongi kept his eyes on the road up front. "Were you in love with him?" He asked, tone holding nothing but curiosity.

"Yes." You swallowed. "We've been together for two years by that point."

"Then you should've tried. I would’ve tried,” He said. “And if I were him...I would've wanted to know."

You blinked away the burning sting in your eyes and turned to the window again, regret stuck in your throat like bile. "Yeah, I guess." You said. "But it was a lot more complicated than that. And it's too late to start fixing anything now."

"How long?"

"Seven years, I believe." You lied. It was nearing six. You chuckled out of nerves. "Honestly though, I don't even know why I brought all of this up.." You looked back at the blonde with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry for sorta making you play therapist."

Yoongi huffed out a laugh, shrugging his shoulders. "Well then, sorry for not acting on my part, I guess."

A light laugh left your mouth and the heavy tension in the car dissolved.

Nearing a familiar street, you told Yoongi to take a right turn.

"You know," the blonde said as his vehicle slowed outside your apartment building. "I really don't think that it's too late for you to tell him. Things might not go back to the way they were, sure ...but even if things changed in both of your lives, I'm sure it would clarify a lot of things for him. Just saying."

Hand gripping the door handle, you couldn't help the emotions that welled in you from his words. You felt as if you crossed a line you promised not to cross. You talked more than you should've and if you continued, it was going to be hard to go back to the casual strangership you two had.

Still. You couldn't help asking, "You really think so?"

Min Yoongi, with bleached hair in his eyes and elbow resting on the top of the steering wheel, nodded with his usual timid, pursed smile. Despite his expression showing indifference, you saw something warm that softened in his brown eyes. You looked at him and saw home, saw familiarity.

It hurt because it was only you who saw that; he saw you as nothing but a stranger. It hurt because you wanted everything to be as simple as he told you. But, unfortunately, it wasn't.

Masking the urge to cry with a grin, you unbuckled yourself with your other hand and opened the car door.

"Thanks, Yoongi." You said. Once out of the car, you held the door agape for a minute longer, "If you ever have questions about that price sticker, call me." You winked before closing the door.

After a moment of confusion, you saw Yoongi chuckle through the tinted window, then shake his head as if you didn't know what you were talking about.

You did know.

You were the one who stuck the price tag on there in the first place. Yoongi had scolded you for "loitering" in his newly-purchased car and you laughed because he wasn't really being serious about it; you could tell by the scrunch in his nose that he was only half mad.

Climbing the stairs to your apartment floor, you glanced back, catching a glimpse of Yoongi's car making a turn out of the block. The breeze nipped at your legs and cheeks as you stood, blinking slowly, reminiscing of the past.

A heavy grief settled like hot bricks in your chest, making tears burn the back of your eyes.

You didn't understand why life brought you back to him when you made a decision to leave him in the past. But you really couldn't; just leave him in the past with the rest of your stale memories, like you promised his parents that you would. Even after years of no contact, Yoongi came back so unexpectedly that you wondered if he even existed in your life before these last six months. You thought that keeping your distance would help. That it’d make you immune to seeing him.

It didn't.

Everyone always says that you never forget your first love.

But Min Yoongi forgot you nonetheless.

You'll need to try harder to do the same.

⤴ "...not the way real strangers would."

#assdffgfhjk #did i mention that this was an amnesia au???#heh #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi angst #bts #bts scenarios #bts drabble #bts imagines #suga x reader #suga angst #bts fanfic #min yoongi x reader #suga #yoongi scenarios

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in78weeks-blog · 5 years

Text

November 23-29: Aruba, Beyond the Beaches

For the most part, all of my trips are meant to help me learn more about people of all backgrounds to better understand my place in this world, and to find out how to use my privilege to share the beauty of cultures with the world. When I go to explore a new place, sometimes I have a good idea of what I’m getting myself into but I try not to have an expectation of what my trip is going to look like.

But when my family and I decided to go to Aruba for our thanksgiving vacation, I was just excited to be escaping the Colorado cold, and I didn’t really know what to expect. I didn’t do too much research about Aruba and figured we would take it one day at a time. It’s a small island anyway, how much could there possibly be to do? Hint: There is surprisingly a lot.

After travelling for over 12 hours, we finally landed in Oranjestad, Aruba and were too exhausted to do anything too adventurous. We picked up our rental car, went to our first hotel, and took a moment to rest. While my mom took a quick nap, my dad and I walked to the beach that was a couple minutes from the hotel.

While adjusting to the sights and warmth of the island, our commentary didn’t stray far from “Wow, I can’t believe we’re actually here.” We wandered back to the hotel, met up with my mom, and ventured toward the southern end of what I would later discover as the “Resort Town”, grabbed an incredibly overpriced meal for dinner, and called it a night. Tomorrow is going to be a great day.

Most people that go to Aruba tend to stay within the 5 mile stretch of beaches and resorts and choose not to venture away from the comforts of their resort. I understand that not everyone likes to be active on vacation and I understand that there is value in relaxation, but I believe that “resort vacations” create more limitations than opportunities for travelers. Though Aruba is a small island, there is so much to do and see, and staying in the confines of a hotel limits that experience.

We began driving down to the south end of the island, and watched the resorts slipped away into the distance, and the buildings began to resemble the homes of the locals, and I was glad to see that the local culture was still alive on this tourism-heavy island. Bright-colored, run-down houses lined the pothole-covered dirt roads, and stray dogs wandered these roads in the midday heat. Parked in front of the houses were cars, trucks and vans with rust damage from the salt water. Our tiny kia picanto, while its crooked license plate, manual locks, and hand crank windows may have been a gesture of humility, stood out with its giant “payless car rental” sticker plastered in the back window.

Our first stop was the Red Anchor that was built in memory of a fallen seaman. After stopping to snap a couple of photos, we continued our drive toward the lighthouse at the southern tip of the island. While I was mindlessly looking out the window and enjoying the Caribbean music on the radio, I realized we were driving by a cemetery. Hundreds of crosses, rock piles, and makeshift plaques filled the grassy field, and after giving the crosses and plaques a closer look, I realized that it was a cemetery for pets.

Our drive up to the Sero Colorado Lighthouse was slow and careful, but I didn’t mind because the landscape was so unique. Never before have I seen cacti and palm trees growing alongside each other along the beach.

We began our journey back into town to grab some lunch. San Nicolas isn’t a popular destination for tourists so yelp and google weren’t very informative about the restaurant options in the area. Because the southern part of the island isn’t well visited, I was hopeful that the restaurants would be more authentic, and more reasonably priced compared to the restaurants in the resort town. Luckily, I was able to find a Caribbean restaurant in downtown San Nicolas so we decided to go there.

While looking over the menu, and having a hard time deciding what to order, a group of locals sat at the table next to us. One of them ordered a seafood curry so I decided to trust the judgement of the locals and order the same. I was not disappointed.

Before heading to our next destination, we decided to walk around downtown to admire the murals that we saw on our drive in. Every street-facing wall was adorned with bright colored murals of all different styles, and the trees and streetlights were covered with holiday decorations, which felt oddly out of place.

While looking to see if there was any bouldering locations on the island, I discovered that there were two “boulder fields” or rock formations on the island, one was called Casibari Rock Formations and the other was called Ayo Rock Formations. There were no formal routes at each of these locations, but it appeared there were decent boulders that would make for some fun challenges.

We decided to head to the Casibari Rock Formations first. I was expecting lots of visitors to such a unique destination, but was surprised when we were the only ones there. As we walked around the boulder field, we found a steep, stone staircase that led up to the top of a hill. It wasn’t until I reached the top of the steps that I realized that this boulder field was located near the center of the island. We were treated with a 360-degree view of the island with a epic view of Sero Hooiberg, or Mount Hooiberg - the lone mountain standing in the middle of the island. I was also surprised at how big the island looked from this viewpoint. I was able to see the beach far off in the distance to the west, but lost the coastline as I moved my eyes toward the north and the south, and I could only see mountains to the east.

I took some time to enjoy the view from the top of the Casibari Rocks. Since arriving here and realizing that tourism was quickly dominating the economy and culture of Aruba, my heart has been unsettled. I love travel because it grants me the opportunity to appreciate God’s creativity through experiencing unique cultures. At the same time, I wrestle with the thought that as a traveler, I am indirectly supporting the tourism industry that has a tendency of disrupting the lifestyle of the local people. I struggle with understanding the balance between celebrating a culture for its uniqueness and filtering my experience through financially focused entities.

I carried these thoughts with me to the top of this hill, and as I looked around, I saw in the distance the seemingly small patch of land dedicated to the resorts. As I turned around and saw the vast land around me that looked untouched by foreign hands, my heart felt more at ease. I walked back down the steps at Casibari with a stronger sense of responsibility for presenting travel destinations and the people of those cultures as honestly as I can, and to reduce my cultural impact as much as I can when I travel to foreign places.

There weren’t any boulders at Casibari Rock that I wanted to climb, so we headed toward our next destination - the Ayo Boulders. Walking along the path through the unique Ayo rock formations, I found a boulder that I recognized from the climbing resources I read online, so I strapped on my climbing shoes and began scouring my way up the side of the rock.

It had been awhile since I had climbed and fear definitely kicked in as I climbed with no protection, but trusting my skill, strength and technique, I was able to send a humble boulder. Climbing back down on the backside of the boulder, we continued to walk among the boulders of the park.

Walking through the boulders, I felt like a kid on a playground. The path led us through dark tunnels, narrow walkways and sketchy steps. We ventured off the path to get a better view of the park and my goofy mom played around on the rocks like a kid. Adopting a new set of scrapes from squeezing through small spaces, we began to wander back to the car.

We wrapped up our night by walking around the resorts, stopping into shops to see if there were any knick-knacks we wanted to bring home. After enjoying an overpriced meal and an overpriced drink, we made our way back to our resort and called it a night. I went to bed excited about the full day of adventure planned for tomorrow at Arikok National Park.

When I was researching things to see in Arikok National Park, the two most popular destinations were Quadrikiri cave and the Conchi Natural Pool. I was determined to go to both of these locations, even if that meant spending the entire day in the park. Since I had put in the most time and effort in researching the national park, my parents gave me the go ahead to plan the day.

After we received our bright orange wristbands, we entered the park and began our very slow drive to the eastern edge of the park. Our low-clearance kia picanto struggled over the 50 storm water runoffs on our way to our first destination, but we eventually made it in one piece. We stopped our car at Boca Prins - a beach with that was sandwiched between two 50-foot cliffs. Watching the waves crash against the cliffs and erupt into a splash of water as the forces of nature collided was awe-inspiring.

We stopped in at the restaurant parking lot where we saw the horrific image of a young man sitting in in the passenger seat of a UTV with a serious chest injury. His white t-shirt was covered in blood and he clenched the left side of his chest, and his facial expressions made it clear he was holding back tears and probably a colorful set of words.

We heard sirens off in the distance so knowing that help was on the way, we continued on to the highly anticipated destination - Quadrikiri Cave.

I saw photos of this cave online while looking into the places to go in the national park and I’ve been excited at an opportunity to take a cool photo here. From the outside, it didn’t look like much, a set of stairs that led up to the entrance of the cave and a sign that depicted a mythological story about the cave’s foundation. We carefully walked up the steep steps to the entrance of the cave, ducked our heads and stepped into the darkness. About 50 feet in front of us was a spotlight from above, but it was just far enough away to keep us from being able to see the ground below our feet. As we approached the light ahead, we walked into a dome like space with a natural skylight that powerfully lit up the room.

We continued deeper into the earth through a dark narrow tunnel into another open space with another pair of skylights that shined down into the middle of the room like a spotlight. We were the only ones in the cave for awhile and the eerie silence was broken only by my mom’s continual reminder that she was afraid of the dark and wanted to leave. We visited one more cave, Fontein cave, which housed some petroglyphs of the native islanders.

Most of the day so far had been in the comfort of our car so we decided to go on a hike. We drove to the north entrance of the park and began our hike to the Conchi Natural Pool. The Conchi Natural Pool is essentially an arc of rocks along the rocky coast that form a convenient pool of water that is somewhat shielded from the rough waters of sea. There are many paths to get to the pool, but due to the aggressively rocky terrain, the only way to reach the pool is by UTV or by foot.

The hike was three miles round trip so with our cameras, and swimsuits in hand, we began to walk. Groups of UTVs drove past us and I could have been jealous of how much faster they would get to the natural pool, but I was happy to be in the sun and stretching my legs.

The Conchi Natural Pool was full of people splashing around and having a good time. At this point in the day, the tide was coming in so the waves were splashing against the rock arc and creating a heavy current in the pool. My mom, who carries a very real fear of swimming, chose against swimming in the rough waters and found a more quiet secluded place to swim instead.

The place we found was on the north side of the beach and had plenty of small shallower pools to splash around in. My dad was experimenting with his new 4K underwater camera while my mom and I splashed and played in the water as if we were kids. After thoroughly enjoying time at the pool, we were ready to take cover from the harsh sunlight. We grabbed our bags and began the 1.5 mile hike back to the car.

People sped by us in their Jeeps as we walked through the hot sun, and I took a moment to ask myself if I felt like I was missing out on a unique experience by not spending the money to rent a Jeep and drive around the trails on the island. After giving it some thought, I didn’t feel like joining a Jeep tour would change the experience I had in visiting Aruba.

When I travel, my goal is to learn about cultures, interact with people, and better understand the human condition and the way God uniquely created human beings. I love outdoor adventures and rugged expeditions, but in this situation, taking a Jeep out to the natural landmarks of the island versus walking to them didn’t make a difference on how much I appreciated them.

My family and I have always been budget travelers with the occasional spendy purchase. We tend to avoid tours and vacation packages and prefer to have the freedom to travel on our own agenda, but we also try not to let our frugality keep us from missing out on special opportunities. Through years of traveling together, we’ve learned to recognize our tendencies of being frugal have become better at gauging which experiences are worth spending money on.

We were sun-kissed, sweaty, and sore so we returned to our hotel, enjoyed a beer, and relaxed by the pool for the rest of the evening.

After several days of active exploration, my parents an I were ready to take some time to relax on the beach. Since we were staying at a resort in the Resort Town, we were minutes away from the beach.

We were walking along the beach to find a place to relax for the morning, and I noticed a section of the beach was blocked off for construction. I unfortunately didn’t realize that the fence was being held up by a concrete block that was hidden under the sand, and slammed my pinky toe into the concrete block.

Breaking my toe wasn’t even the worst part. My mom broke her sandals while we were at the Conchi Natural Pool and was thinking about buying a new pair. As a proud owner of the Chacos Women’s Z1 Sandals, I tried convincing her to that Chacos was the way to go. My dad is a proud owner of Keens and tried convincing her to that Keens were far superior to Chacos. Having broken my toe walking around on the beach in my Chacos, my mom was convinced that Chacos would not be the next sandal she invested in. I was in pain and defeated.

I didn’t read any raving reviews about the Aruba Aloe Factory and Museum so at first, I didn’t think to make the effort to visit it, but since we had the time to do some exploring, we decided to check it out and I am so glad we did.

The tour guide began with an explanation of the benefits of Aloe Vera, its uses cosmetically and medically, and a demonstration of how to harvest the plant. I was impressed with how swiftly the tour guide was able to pull apart the gel from the leaf of the plant and was surprised to hear that at this factory, the harvesting process was done entirely by hand. Our tour guide continued the tour by telling us the history of the Aloe Vera plant on the island of Aruba. The Aloe Vera plant is not native to the island, but after realizing it grew well in the dry and warm climate, Aloe Vera farms and factories began to pop up all around Aruba, becoming the second leading industry on the island after the oil refinery industry.

Since the arrival of the American and European tourism corporations in the 1940s, Aloe Vera farms were driven out of business as hundreds of farms across the island fell to the rapidly growing real estate prices. There are only a handful of Aloe Vera farms remaining in the island, and Aruba Aloe was the largest of them.

The tour guide took us through a incandescent catwalk that looked down into the factory, while explaining the process of harvesting, refining, creating, and bottling up the Aloe Vera cosmetic products. At the conclusion of the tour, we had the opportunity to buy some of the products in their store.

There are 23 houses of worship on the island of Aruba, and majority of them are of the Christian faith. Of those Christian churches, most of them are of the Catholic denomination. Next on our agenda was a visit to the Alta Vista Chapel, one of the Catholic chapels on the island. When I saw a quick review of it online, I wasn’t sure what made this chapel special, but reading up on the history of the church upon our arrival made me realize what made this chapel important among the other churches.

The quaint yellow chapel stood tall at the top of a hill in the middle of a desert landscape with a distant view of the ocean. This chapel was originally built in the 1750s by Venezuelan missionaries, and was recently rebuilt in 1952. This was the chapel where many Aruban natives converted to Christianity, so this place is held close to the hearts of the native peoples.

We saw some hiking trails that lead to the coast, but we had already had a long day of walking and we were afraid that we would run out of sunlight so we decided to move on to the next destination. My mom was curious about a place called “Phillip’s Animal Farm”, so we decided to head in that direction. I wasn’t sure if it was a farm or a zoo, but apparently they had animals there. And I like animals.

We were given a wax bag with treats and carrots, and were told that we could feed any animal EXCEPT the monkeys. Noting that, we walked through the gate and into this mysterious animal farm. As we visited each caged animal, my heart began to break more and more. It was evident that these animals were not happy, and it made me angry that anyone would be able to cage them up like this. We saw all sorts of animals, including ostriches, donkeys, camels, kangaroos, parrots, emus, and ocelots.

We finally reached the monkeys and immediately I could tell that these creatures were not happy to be caged. One of them ran up to cage where I stood, and grabbed the cage bars, looked me in the eye with the saddest expression I had ever seen. I snapped a couple of photos, told the little guy how sorry I was that he had to be caged up and began walking away. As I turned around to start walking away, the little guy began throwing a fit by screaming and waving his arms around like a human child, and when I turned around to face him, he threw a rock directly at my face.

I was in shock. A monkey just him me in the face with a rock.

It took me a moment to process what had just happened, but after a minute or two, the confusion subsided and my heart broke into a million pieces. This poor little punk of a monkey has probably known nothing beyond those four cage walls and is desperate to get out and be free, as he was meant to be.

After a moment, I went back and visited my favorite donkey. I liked him because even if I didn’t have food to give him, he hung out by the fence and let me pet him.

Frustrated at the concept of businesses making money off the suffering of these poor animals, we washed our hands and began to leave the “farm”. Luckily, my dad sparked up a conversation with an employee about what the farm was all about. The employee told us that the farm was owned by a man that deeply cares about animals and took in all of these animals when a zoo closed down on Aruba. Instead of the consequences that would have otherwise fallen on these animals, the owner decided to nurture them back to health and prepare them to be transported either back into their natural habitat or to other zoos if they were too domesticated to be let back into the wild.

Mike was the kind employee that explained all of this to us. We returned to our car and while we were pulling out our GPS to figure out how to get back to the hotel, we heard a knock on our window. Mike had rushed over and asked us if we would be willing to give him a ride to the main street as his car had broken down. My parents were kind enough to let him jump in.

He humbly asked that we drop him off just down the street at the main road, but my parents insisted us take him to his home. While we drove to his home, he asked us where we were from and shared with us a little bit about his background and family. He grew up on the island of Aruba but he doesn’t have too much family here anymore.

He told that most of his family has moved away from the island, his cousins were in the Dominican Republic, and a couple family members moved to the states. He was excitedly telling us that they were going to have a big family reunion sometime in December in the Dominican Republic, but that it’s been difficult being in Aruba without too many of his family members around.

He was so appreciative of us for taking him to his home, and explained that he’s been quite busy lately and hadn’t gotten around to getting his car fixed. He was working full time at the farm, taking night classes, and working a second job on the weekends.

After driving for a solid 10 minutes, we finally got him to where he needed to be. Oh how blessed I am for the life I’ve been granted.

This was our last full day on the island and we only had a couple things left to do. The lighthouse on the south end of the island wasn’t very impressive, but the California lighthouse located on the northern tip of the island was magnificent so we decided to go take a look.

There were big crowds of people coming in and out on tour buses. Most people chose to snap a couple of photos from a distance and hang out around the snacks and souvenir booth. When we approached the door at the base of the lighthouse, we were instructed that we could climb up to the top of the lighthouse for the price of $5. My dad and I excitedly pulled out our wallets, handed the gate keeper our five-dollar bills and opened the door to begin our climb. The inner diameter of the lighthouse was no more than 7 feet and the staircase wound around a concrete post with no handrails. Each step was a little over a foot tall, and on each of the steps there was just enough surface area for the ball of my foot.

The very sketchy climb to the top of the lighthouse was rewarded with a 360-degree view of the northern end of the island. We could see the resort town and golf course to the south west, the mountains of the national park to the south east and the expanse of the ocean to the north.

I found a beach on the map that we hadn’t been to in the southern part of the island near the town of San Nicolas. Though that was a bit of a drive from where we were at, I wanted to find a beach that was less crowded to hang out at so we decided to give it a shot.

It was slightly overcast so the beach was completely empty, so we had the whole beach to ourselves. I was the first to jump into the warm water, but stayed relatively close to shore because there were some sharp rocks further out from shore. My mom decided to join a short while later, and together we floated around and had a good time.

About half an hour after we arrived, another man arrived and joined us in the water. He came and introduced himself - Ferdinand. But his friends call him Ferdi.

He lives a couple blocks away in the town of San Nicolas. He’s retired now, but he used to work in the tourism industry. He’s lived in Aruba for 23 years, and before that, French Guiana, and before that, Suriname. He’s a kind man, and tries to make an effort to reach out to the tourists he sees at this beach. He’s goofy, and tells my mom that he knows a little Japanese. “Ai shiteimasu“, he says. I love you. He laughs, saying he learned how to say "I love you” in many different languages. He lists off those languages. It’s a list too long to remember. My mom jokes back - “you must have many girlfriends around the world“. He laughs.

He has a garden. my parents have a long, drawn out conversation with him about farming and the native plants of the island. My parents are curious about the gardening conditions, what plants grow native here, and why there aren’t any papaya trees in people’s front yards!

I ask Ferdi about the grocery stores. I noticed that all of the grocery stores in Aruba have Chinese names, yet I haven’t seen too many Asian people on this island. Ferdi tells me that the grocery stores have been run by Chinese owners for many years. He’s not sure why, but that’s just how it is.

Ferdi is very knowledgeable about this small part of the world. He loves this island with his whole heart and doesn’t ever see himself living anywhere else. Parts of his life have been challenging and he’s been thrown in a wild loop , but he’s found a home here.

Ferdi had to head back to work on his car, so after giving ourselves some time to dry off in the sun, we drove toward a seafood restaurant in the town of San Nicolas to enjoy a late lunch.

We walked up to a counter with a simple menu - fish of the day, shrimp, corn bead, plantains, tartar sauce. Confused at how we were supposed to order, the young guy at the register explained to us that we pay for the fish by the piece and the shrimp by the weight. Still confused, he showed us how big a piece of fish was, explained that the seafood was battered, seasoned and fried. We ordered two pieces of fish, six shrimps, two plantains, one piece of cornbread and tartar sauce. The total came out to be twenty dollars.

The restaurant was located right on the beach and a dock led out onto the water. At the end of the dock were three tables with umbrellas, so we sit out at one of these tables and eat while enjoying the view of the coastline. While we waited for our food to be prepared, we watched as the chefs skinned, gutted, and de-boned the fish we would soon be eating. The guts and bones went directly overboard into the water and we watched as the seagulls swept into collect their meals and the fish swarmed to get their portion. Even while we were eating our meal, all of our bones and scraps went off the dock and into the beaks if the seagulls or to the hungry fish below our feet.

Right as we left the restaurant, the rain began to pour, but by the time we reached our hotel, the rain had already subsided. Again, we decided to take the evening to rest, and enjoyed our last sunset on the beach. Tropical musical played in the background while the palm trees and waves swayed at a much slower beat. The smell of salt filled my nose as I sat back and watched older couples walking along the beach, hand-in-hand, parents chase down their young ones, and young lovers teasing each other and splashing around the water to finding any excuse to hold each other close.

We had to be at the airport by noon, so we packed up our suitcases and spent our last couple hours lounging on the beach. I put on my swim suit, sunglasses and headphones, and focused on the joyful feeling of having the warmth of the sun against my skin. I would return to the cold climate of Colorado with tan skin, and a rejuvenated spirit.

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fuafuakiss · 6 years

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52- Shane?

I am assuming this meant to say Shance.

52-: “You’re my Omega, and mine alone.”

They all knew it would happen eventually. Or at least Lance did.

Clearly, being an omega came with both benefits and risks. Until that moment Lance had been lucky enough to mainly experience the positives – a supportive family who held him when he cried, kick-ass friends who would defend his honor in a fight, and a caring alpha boyfriend who hated traditional submissive omega roles. Sure, he’d had the usual street harassment, sexist stereotypes, and leering looks aimed at him, but he’d escaped the worst of what he knew happened to omegas around the world.

So when the Galra used his biology against him, Lance was thoroughly unprepared to fight back.

The team had split up once they arrived at the abandoned Galran base, everyone taking a different level while Pidge stayed central to hack into their database. Lance had taken the top which was more like a series of interconnected catwalks than a floor. As a sniper, he was both familiar with heights and would be ready to provide backup if needed for Shiro who was just below him.

“Still not seeing anything, guys,” Lance moaned into his headset. “Are we sure this place wasn’t just like built, but then they ran out of budget and never moved in? Or maybe it wasn’t up to code. Black mold? Asbestos? Space cockroaches?”

“Do they have exterminators in space?” Hunk whispered, worriedly. “Can we call one? I can definitely see this level being infested.”

“Probably just zombies creeping up behind you to eat your brains,” Pidge chimed in happily, making Hunk gasp in fear.

Lance chuckled as Shiro scolded them. His eyes scanned the shadows around him, his bayard raised and at the ready as he strolled along past random pipes and wires.

Switching to a private line, Lance haled his boyfriend. “So, Shiro, if there really are space zombies, will you be the knight in shining armor to save me?”

Lance could practically see Shiro shaking his head as he sighed. “Concentrate, kitten. I’d rather not have to save you if you could fight them off yourself.”

“But it’s more fun when I get to be the beautiful damsel in distress,” Lance whined with a smile, pausing to lean on the railing to wait for Shiro to catch up. Because Shiro had to check additional hallways and doorways as they went along, Lance would often get ahead and have to wait for the alpha to catch up, but teasing Shiro always made the time pass more quickly.

“Well, you’re always beautiful, so we’ll just have to work on the distress, huh?” he heard Shiro chuckle through the line. “Or maybe you’d like to play up the damsel bit?”

“Mmm…” Lance hummed, his grin turning into a smirk as his voice dropped to a purr. “Are you asking me to wear that skirt again, Shiro? I’ll have to work on getting that slick stain out first.”

Shiro swore, letting out a strangled groan. “And this is why I can’t talk to you during missions. I’m shutting this down now before you start getting out of hand.”

Lance just giggled and gave a smooch as he switched back to the main line. The team’s chatter once again filled his ears as he deactivated his bayard. Placing his forearms on the railing, he tiredly rested his head on his arms, patiently waiting for Shiro to round the last corner.

Just as he caught sight of the black paladin’s armor, he heard and felt something drop down behind him. Lance immediately whipped around, raising his bayard in defense, but only got about half way before he felt a hand clamp down on the back of his neck.

As it squeezed, Lance’s heart filled with dread. His limbs became heavy and limp while his eyelids drooped, and his mind shut down. He was being scruffed, put into the ultimate state of submission for an omega where the body was forced into a state of complete relaxation and compliance.

He barely felt his bayard slip out of his hand, but he had just enough strength left to kick it as hard as he could towards the edge of the catwalk. He heard the distant clatter as it hit the floor below and knew that Shiro would at least know something was wrong.

[As his vision faded out, Lance could only hope his white knight would save him. ]

xXx

Lance felt the world come back slowly. His mind protested being awake, wanting to escape the uncomfortable feeling of cold metal on his back and the stench of posturing alphas in the air. But with his returning consciousness also came a sense of danger, a reminder that he had been captured and was now probably in a cell on some Galra ship halfway to Zarkon.

Finally, he opened his eyes, blinking in the harsh light for a moment before things came into focus, and his fears were confirmed. He was locked down in some nondescript room – three purple-tinged walls and a glowing purple forcefield to keep him in. They really needed to hire a new interior designer.

Slowly sitting up to rest his back against the wall, Lance’s head swam. Like adrenalin, when the hormones released by the scruffing left his system, he was left weak, tired, and dizzy. The fuzzy cotton that had filled his mind had been replaced by an echoey chamber-like feeling, his thoughts bouncing around like birds without a place to rest.

As he shifted, Lance felt something odd on the back of his neck. He brought his fingers up to the spot and found an oddly metallic sticker-like rectangle attached there. It was completely smooth but seemed too hard to be plastic. The edges almost seamlessly transitioned from metal to flesh, and Lance couldn’t make it budge when he tried to pick and scrape at it.

Was it a brand? Some sort of barcode? Or maybe like an insta-kill switch…

Lance didn’t have long to wonder as footsteps came echoing down the hall. As they got louder, the smell of alpha got stronger as well. Whoever was walking towards him was the head honcho on this ship, and he clearly liked to make that very obvious.

When two guards and a small, grumpy looking Galra stopped outside his cell, Lance wasn’t surprised. Lance knew the amount of pheromones this guy was pumping out was just a sign of insecurity. He’d also come across enough of these types on Earth to know that that feeling of incompetence meant they were often hot-headed and quick to attack – a possible advantage in battle.

Wow, Shiro was definitely beginning to rub off on him.

“Omega,” the Galra barked, his body straight and at attention.

Lance just rolled his eyes, giving him an unimpressed look. “Wow. You can smell. Congratulations.”

The alpha growled, his eyebrows drawing down in a scowl. “Know your place, omega. Or you will learn it very swiftly.”

“My place? Oh shoot. I thought it was back with Voltron, but I have a feeling you guys might have a different opinion on that,” Lance replied sarcastically, picking at his nails in false boredom. In reality, his body was tense, waiting for that moment he would cross the line and discover just how far he could push this guy.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance saw one of the guards hand the leader something small and black. Just as Lance glanced up, a wave of pain ripped through his neck and flashed down his body, searing his limbs with white hot agony. A scream shredded his throat as he felt his body set on fire, every nerve raw and boiling.

It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to leave him reeling, his once scattered thoughts buzzing in his head, his limbs shaking, and his breath heavy pants. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to even twitch if it meant ever being in that type of pain again. Quiznack, he wasn’t going to make it through this.

“Do you understand now?” the leader spit at him, the sound harsh and grating in his throbbing ears. Or maybe it was just his whole body pulsing in echoed pain.

From where Lance had unconsciously slumped to the side in relief after being released from the agony, he saw the Galra raise his hand again. Immediately, Lance forced his mouth open, his vocal chords desperately working as he managed to mumble out a ‘yes.’

Lance could see the commander lower his arm again, a reluctant relief seeping through his body. He was so weak.

One of the background Galra finally spoke up. “That device on your neck was designed by our resident druids just for you. It takes advantage of the unique omega structure of your scent glands to administer whatever sensation we want – pain, fear, arousal, submission. Anything your body can feel, we can make a reality,” the Galra explained, a smug satisfaction in his voice.

Lance, on the other hand, could feel horror slowly taking over. He thought he was weak now? These sadists could literally make him feel however they wanted, and from the feeling of that little demonstration, he would have no way to fight it, the sensations powerful and overwhelming…

“The druids discovered that the specific hormones that run an omega’s body are stimulated in a certain way, the omega will be prompted to respond. Unlike betas and alphas, omegas accept these signals without a fight or any sort of backlash.”

Lance could see him walk to the biometric scanner to lower the forcefield. For a moment, Lance thought of trying to run, fighting back, proving he wasn’t to be messed with as a paladin of Voltron, but if this dickbag’s words were true, he wouldn’t get far. Would probably be better to just lay low and wait for an opportunity to remove the device or steal the remote.

Lance kept his eyes trained on the ground, allowing his fear to drive his reactions but not take over his body. Commander Assbucket crouched down in front of him with a cocky grin. “That’s right. Your sass won’t get you anywhere here. About time you wild omegas learned how to act. You’re only purpose is to look pretty and suck up our spunk.” The douche dick laughed. “What do you think about that?”

Before Lance even got a chance to open his mouth, the Galra had pushed a button on the remote. The next second, Lance’s mind was once again falling into that submissive fog of being scruffed but this time without the heavy exhaustion. It was more like he was drunk, his body light and floaty to go with the openness in his brain. When he moved his hand to his head, it felt like everything was moving in slow motion, syrupy and smooth.

From what felt like both far away and right beside him, an alphas voice requested his attention. Lance’s head swiveled towards the noise as his mouth broke out into a dreamy smile. The alpha grinned back, his scent thick in Lance’s nostrils. “Now you’ll repeat after me: omegas are stupid fuckholes meant for alphas to enjoy.”

“Omegas are stupid fuckholes meant for alphas to enjoy,” Lance happily slurred.

“And I am the biggest whore of them all.”

xXx

By the time they had finally tracked down Lance’s location, Shiro was ready to explode. His inner alpha was raging at the loss of its omega, its intended mate, the man that they loved. He should have paid attention better, not let himself get distracted, known Lance’s radio silence was trouble, and found the Galra far sooner. It was his duty to protect Lance, and he’d failed.

As they flew towards the target, the communicator was silent. Everyone was on edge, and Shiro couldn’t blame them. Their omega was the one to keep things light, cracking a joke or starting a play-fight to keep people out of their heads. Without him, they were serious to the point of fragility. One word could be the catalyst to cause them all to fall apart.

Shiro’s human hand twitched on the controls when the Galra ship came into sight. He was itching to slam down on the throttle, to race forward and take down their enemies in a wave of lasers before they even knew what to think. But that could get Lance killed, and so he had to be patient and rely on stealth like they had planned.

When they were finally close enough, Shiro broke the silence. “Allura and Hunk break off. Keith with me. Pidge, stay back until we’ve engaged.” There was a murmur of agreement as they all took their places.

It was time to save his omega.

xXx

Lance wasn’t sure how long he floated. He was only aware of time passing when an alpha gave him a command. In between, he’d let his mind drift away just enough to lose perception but not too far to lose awareness of the alphas.

He didn’t particularly remember what he had been told to do. Or maybe he just didn’t feel like concentrating that hard on pulling the memories to the surface. He knew he was sitting at the foot of the head alpha, his head resting on the alpha’s knees as the Galra slowly pet Lance’s hair. Vaguely, Lance felt the press of a silky material wrapping his body from his thighs to just below his chest as well as the cool feel of leather around his throat, but he didn’t give it more than a passing thought. He was simply content to sit there, look pretty, and do as the alphas commanded.

It wasn’t to last, though, as an alarm suddenly shattered the silence they’d wrapped themselves in. The alpha above him tensed, the hands in his hair tightening and pulling on their hold as he began barking orders. Lance was largely ignored, so he let himself drift off once more.

But when the doors at the other end of the room burst open, the head alpha leapt to his feet, forcefully shoving Lance to the side where his head smacked against the ground. A flash of pain broke through the fog, clearing his mind just slightly as his instincts warned of danger.

The jolt was just enough to bring Lance to the surface of awareness. Without moving from where he’d fallen, he glanced around in a daze, catching sight of what appeared to be a battle raging at the other end of the hall between the head alpha and another unfamiliar one. The guards seemed preoccupied fighting someone else, but Lance couldn’t quite see from his prone position on the floor. It didn’t matter, though, as the two alphas kept his attention. The new alpha was dressed in black and white armor with a mechanical attachment for an arm that seemed to double as a sword. The fighting was fierce, but the other alpha was clearly winning.

He seemed mad, his fists flying with a furious desperation as he bared his teeth in a show of aggression. His entire body was coiled tight like a spring ready to unleash his rage on his opponent in an awe-inspiring display of power and domination. There was no way the head alpha would be winning this fight.

“Lance!” the unknown alpha shouted, drawing the omega’s eyes. “Are you okay? Please get up!”

Was he supposed to obey this alpha? He didn’t see a reason why he shouldn’t. He was meant to obey all alpha commands, no questions asked.

So Lance raised his body off the ground to sit cross-legged on the floor, staring at the two alphas locked together in battle as he waited for another order. The head alpha snarled at his action, but Lance remained passive. A growl wasn’t a command.

Lance watched and waited as the other alpha beat the leader bloody. Finally, the man in the white armor held his glowing arm to the head alpha’s throat, declaring his victory and demanding the commander submit.

Instead, the fallen leader spit at the alpha on top of him. “Your paladin is under our control now. We give him orders, he obeys like a perfect omega slut–”

He broke off as the fighter whipped his fist across the Galra’s face and demanded in an enraged voice, “What did you do?!”

Instead of responding, the commander smiled and raised his voice to shout at Lance:

“Omega, do not listen to this alpha! I am the only one you will obey. And you will kill yourself!”

Lance barely had time to process the words when, without thinking, his hands came to pull the leather collar around his throat tight enough to cut off the flow of air into his body. A metal lock clicked into place, unable to be loosened even if he tried. It hurt, his neck feeling like a molding fruit being crushed in a fist, but he simply covered the collar with his hands to keep it protected. It was now his duty to die.

Even if a small part of his chest pulsed in pain. It was a different kind of hurt from the intense pressure around his neck, but it almost felt worse. Like his heart was rebelling against him.

“No!” the other alpha shouted desperately, catching Lance’s attention. The man had abandoned the leader and was running towards him. “Stop! Lance, stop!”

Lance watched, spots flashing across his vision, as the guy collapsed to his knees in front of Lance. The alpha raised his hands, seeming to hesitate, reluctant or unsure of where to touch him but soon had him around the wrists, gently yet firmly removing his hands to inspect the leather.

“Keith!” he yelled without looking towards the other fighter. “I need your dagger right now!”

Some response, but Lance couldn’t hear it over the pounding of blood in his ears. He only saw a flash of something flying towards them and then the man had released one of his wrists to pick up the knife.

A dull fear flashed through Lance’s body. He began fighting, his free arm pushing, slapping, and punching the man as he attempted to yank his other arm free.

“Lance, kitten, whatever they did to you, you can fight it,” the man spoke, his eyes pleading but soft as he tried to subdue and soothe the omega. “You need to breathe. You need to live! For me, for us, for the team. Hunk, Pidge, Keith, Coran, Allura, your family. Everyone needs you to be around.”

The eyes were searching his face, but Lance didn’t stop. On the outside, he was one-minded, only concerned with getting away from the man threatening to stop him. None of that mattered. He would obey the leader over any other alpha.

Yet, the ache in his heart grew even worse. Tears started dripping down his face, but he didn’t know why. It had to be the pain, the pain, the pain, the pain…

When the alpha saw his tears, his expression became hard and angry. “Fight it! Damnit! You’re so strong! And you will not listen to that bastard! You’re my omega and mine alone!” he yelled, surging forward to claim Lance’s lips in a fierce kiss.

As soon as their mouths met, Lance shuddered at the extreme pain in his chest. The touch of the man’s lips against his own was warm and pleasurable, but his heart was going to burst from emotions he was desperately trying to push back down. He tried to pull away, to escape the agony of the onslaught of sensations, but the alpha held him tightly in place with a hand to the back of Lance’s head, a clatter as the dagger was dropped to the ground.

Lance could feel the man’s inner alpha taking over. The scent of alpha was hard, possessive, and dominant, worming its way into Lance’s mind even without breathing to send things spinning once again. He couldn’t remember why he had been fighting against this, only that there was pain, and there was the alpha. And he knew if he gave into the alpha, the pain would go away.

So he didn’t fight it any longer. His body relaxed as he let the alpha’s presence sweep him away, warm and pleasant in his submission.

Unlike before, the sensation pulled his mind back from the fog and into an awareness of himself and his surroundings for just a moment. He remembered who he was, why he was here, and finally that he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen.

He grabbed the hilt of of the forgotten dagger and held it up to his neck. With what little strength he had left, he slid it under his collar and yanked it away, slicing the leather in two. As soon as it fell away, Lance was gasping, coughing, and choking to bring air into his lungs.

Immediately, Shiro snapped out of his alpha craze and pulled back with wide eyes to search Lance’s face. “Kitten?” he whispered hopefully.

Lance nodded, smiling wide, the tears still trickling down his face. His voice was ragged and scratchy. “Did I make a good damsel in distress then?”

Shiro couldn’t help but smile back as relieved tears rolled out of his eyes. “The best.”

#shance #lance x shiro #abo #voltron abo #voltron a/b/o #omega lance #alpha shiro #my fic #a/b/o #Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics

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sarcasmfish · 7 years

Text

The Knight Shop: Chaperone

Cullen Rutherford works as a modern day knight at the Knight Shop, a quaint little place that rents knights for odd jobs and a cup of tea, all with the upheld honor of a knight. Dorian decides to rent a knight for his cousin as chaperone to a questionable date arranged by her father.

Cullen Rutherford x Talia Trevelyan

Read here on AO3

Author note: This is a bustling little AU on Tumblr that I adore. So I guess you could say that this is an AU of an AU? Wow. I never intended to write something like this and when I started I never intended to finish, but it seemed to get away from me.

The bell on the door chimed its happy greeting as Dorian pushed his way inside. The door was an old, heavy wood that stuck in warmer weather, chosen more than likely, to invoke an older time period than the modern bustle surrounding the quaint shop.

A woman, chiseled jaw and stern eyes, snapped a book shut and hurried to stow it beneath the counter she perched behind.

“Good morning. Welcome to the knight shop.” She folded her hands together atop the wood block counter. “My name is Cassandra. How can I assist you?”

Dorian took a cursory glance around the shops small entryway, taking in the replica armor displays with placards of detailed historical info displayed, a few sign boards with information on prices, even a small selection of merchandise, shirts, keychains, mugs, “I love Knights” bumper stickers.

There were professional portraits of available knights working at the shop, a few drew his eye closer than others. Once selected, would these knights arrive at your doorstep in full armor? No, that was rubbished. Wasn’t it?

He snapped his attention back to the woman awaiting his response.

“I would like to hire a knight for my cousin.”

The woman swept her hand toward the wall of portraits.

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

Dorian scanned over the photos again. They were housed in ornate, but elegant frames. There were several appealing faces, but he was not shopping for himself at the moment.

“Hmm, not particularly.” He tapped his chin a moment in thought. “Who would follow rules the best?”

“Cullen.” she answered without hesitation and slid a form and pen across to him.

---

Cullen arrived a few minutes early to the posh tea room in an area of town he had never set foot in before.

He had dressed as requested, a simple understated black suit and narrow tie. Even still, he felt under dressed compared to the rest of the patrons within. He had anticipated some sort of modern coffee shop trying to cater to higher crowds by calling itself a tea shop. What he found instead could have stepped right out of some Victorian era drama right off of the television.

Each table was busy with gossiping guests dressed their best, as if they had just left a church service or important business meeting. Even the wait staff was impeccable. How did they keep stains off their uniforms so well?

Large, bright windows at the far side of the room of quaint tables overlooked a lavish garden, complete with koi pond and cherub fountain in the center. Every plant seemed to be in bloom. The water sparkled in the reflecting sunlight and birds flittered from petal to petal, inspecting each flower for its bounty. It must have taken an army of gardeners to keep everything looking so magazine worthy.

He scanned the crowded, murmuring tables and found his client. The woman sat, serene, seemingly waiting for nothing. A cup of steaming tea sat beside her untouched. He would have expected her to be tapping away at a phone or reading a book while she waited for his arrival, but instead she sat observing her surroundings, prim hands clasped beneath the lace pastel tablecloth.

He approached and offered the sketch of a bow.

“My lady. I am Cullen Rutherford, your knight for the day.”

She looked up, openly appraising him. He expected her gaze to be something haughty, judging like the ones he could feel behind his back as he had walked in. But the depth of her eyes were curious, tinted with a generous amount of wary concern. If there was something more it was well hidden.

“Thank you, ser Cullen.” She gave a small, wry smile at the title and Cullen found himself returning it.

The woman had a delicate accent, from what part he could not place. She spoke with care, obvious polish rounding every word. Instead of making her seem stuck-up the accent just finished off the delicate librarian look her pinned up hair and thin glasses had begun.

There were two other chairs at the small table and she gestured for him to take the one beside her, to her left.

A waiter arrived at his elbow as soon as he sat down. It was still morning, so Cullen decided on coffee.

The woman beside him was watching him from the corner of her eye. That open curiosity kept her eyes moving. Was she trying to figure him out or catch him revealing his true nature?

Cullen straightened as the waiter left to return his order. “It’s uh… this is a nice place. I’ve never been before.”

Her expression changed almost immediately from wary to excited.

“The Pennington family has owned it for many decades. They opened it as a meeting place for some of the first Templar orders and the second owner dedicated the gardens to his young daughter who was just smitten with the outdoors. My uncle once…” She caught herself, a touch of pink highlighting her cheeks. “I’m sorry. You were just making small talk, not asking for the history of the place.”

The way she spoke was small, polite, diffusing, as if she were unused to carrying on much conversation that did not follow a pattern or script. He found himself curious to hear more of what she would say.

“I love history.”

Her eyes pulled away from his only to return. They were filled with a stunning light that made them almost as blue as some of the flowers she spoke of. “The… the gardens are very beautiful. They’re an old Orleasian design, but the plants are all thriving in Ferelden. The Crystal Grace is in bloom right now. The birds are in love with it and can’t stay away.”

He looked out through the grand windows overlooking the garden, picking up some of the details she had described. “I never thought I would appreciate something so Orleasian so much.”

That wary hesitance in her eyes was vanishing at his interest. “My family has a garden of Antivan influence, lots of marble and high pillars.”

From anyone else the statements might have seemed boastful, but from her they were excited and eager. “Many of the plants don’t do well in the colder months here, but we’ve gotten them to survive. It takes a lot of work and some of them spend months out of the year in a greenhouse, but it’s well worth it to see them when they’re finally able to bloom.”

Cullen leaned a little closer, hoping to hear more about her interest in gardens.

“Ah! There you are!

Another man strode toward the table, steps sure and purposeful. He was almost as tall as Cullen, but the suit he wore was of some fine material Cullen could not identify. The cut was sewn as if were crafted just for him, which it more than likely had been. A beaming smile full of perfect white teeth was a permanent fixture on his face. His hair was dark, more brown than black, and slicked back with a more than generous helping of product.

“Miss Talia Trevelyan!” He grasped her hand and kissed the back of it before she had even fully offered it across the table. “It’s so good to see you again! It seems like it’s been ages.”

The man paused as his eyes drifted to Cullen, confusion and something else squinting his eyes.

“Cullen Rutherford,” he supplied, offering his own hand to shake. “I –“

“He’s my escort for today,” Talia interrupted with a pleasing smile.

“Ah! Oh yes, escort.” The man gave a chuckle that seemed amused at the idea, but he relaxed and shook Cullen’s hand with a firm, practiced grip. It reminded Cullen of the last time had, had to buy a car.

“Stephen Castelan. Good to meet you.” He sat down in the open chair at their table. “Rutherford, hmm… I’m trying to place that name. Is your family –“

Talia picked up her cup of tea from the saucer with a clattering that drew both men’s attention. Cullen was willing to bet the move was absolutely intentional.

“Stephen, I don’t believe I’ve seen you since the Autumn Seasonal. How is your family?”

He brightened, captured by the question.

“My father put me in charge of acquisitions for the company. Finally! I’ve been running nearly half of the entire business for almost the last six months. It’s been thrilling.”

The waiter returned with a large pot of coffee and a small tray of cream and sugar. Cullen poured himself a coup with a touch of cream while Stephen heaped sugar into his own. Talia watched them both, eyes full of interest. He felt like they were being studied. If her hands had not been wound around the cooling cup of tea he would not have been surprised to see her writing notes.

Stephen took a sip of coffee before continuing to describe his growing role at his father’s company. The man needed no more caffeine. He gestured and spoke with grand enthusiasm, spinning tales of his accomplishments and mastery. Cullen spent more time worried about the coffee pot being knocked over than what he was saying.

Talia nodded and laughed in all the appropriate places, but did not interrupt. Occasionally she threw small glances Cullen’s way. He offered her an encouraging smile when he could. She would dart her eyes back to the man across the table, but the tiny amusement in her lips had Cullen feeling like this was their own private joke. He had lost count of how many billions Stephen had saved the company or how many hours of polo the extra work had cost him. Cullen had the luxury of tuning him out and taking in his surroundings. She did not.

In a lull of business stories Cullen found himself blurting, “Talia was just telling me about some of the flowers that were in bloom.”

Both stared at him, Stephen even blinked once or twice as if he had forgotten the other man had been sitting at the table with them. Talia set her cup aside and clasped her hands atop the table. He watched her collect herself after almost shrinking from the attention. He felt awful for putting her on the spot so suddenly.

“We just acquired a fertilizer factory, actually. Manure is surprisingly lucrative.” Stephen stepped in to fill the silence and Cullen glowered at him unnoticed as Talia went back to dwelling in silence.

“That sort of brings me to something I was hoping to discuss with you.”

Talia tilted her head, indicating an unspoken interest. There was a flicker of some emotion that she immediately quelled.

“I’d really like to be able to meet with you again.” Stephen leaned forward, an eager and excited expression taking over. Their current get together had hardly started and already the man was asking for more?

Talia shifted in place, giving a quick glance at Cullen before clearing her voice.

“Oh, that might be possible. I would need time to look at my schedule and make sure ser Cullen was available.” She cut her eyes to him again and he nodded in agreement, taking note of the tiny sign of relief in her brows.

“Oh, of course! Maybe over dinner sometime with your father.”

“My father?” Her shoulders stiffened, but otherwise the question remained innocent.

“Yes, I haven’t spoken to him in years and nothing more than greeting. I would love to see him again.”

Her eyes narrowed just the slightest. Stephen did not seem to catch on to the turn in their conversation. He continued blundering forward as if nothing had changed.

“I think our businesses could profit from each other.” A grin found its way to his face, ambitious and earnest. “Now that I’ve taken over so much of the company I know so much more about the way things work within it. I’ve been brainstorming some ways that we could branch out and diversify ourselves out of the current markets that we’ve been locked into for so many stagnant decades.”

Stephen went for another breath of air, but Talia interrupted.

“You don’t want to dine with me. You want to meet with my father.”

The connection finally met. Stephen’s eyes widened. “No! I mean yes. I do want to meet with you. And I’ll have to meet with your father eventually anyhow, right?” He offered a charming smile, the implications of that sentence hanging in the air.

Talia straightened, a patient, but weary smile on her lips. It was practiced, old and thin like she had been using it for too long. “I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”

The man scrambled to salvage the crumbling conversation, panic filling his features. Cullen almost felt sorry for the man as things fell apart in his hands.

“Wait! Your father set this whole meeting up with mine.” His tone strained to impart his sincerity. He reached across the table to grab her hand.

Talia immediately froze, eyes growing wide and full of a look that spurred Cullen to action. He latched onto the other man’s wrist in a firm grip, not painful, but enough to get a message across.

Stephen shot a glare at Cullen, a warning in his eyes.

“Let go of her.” His voice was low enough to not draw attention from the bustling room, but enough of a threat to make the man yank back his grip.

Talia withdrew her hands from the table and slipped them beneath the tablecloth. He could see her rubbing at the one that had been grabbed.

He marshaled himself not to form his words into a snarl. “Did he hurt you?”

The woman stared at him as if processing his words before shaking her head.

“I’m ok,” she whispered.

“If you’d just give me a moment to –“

“This meeting is over.” Cullen stood and offered Talia his hand.

“You can’t just –“ Stephen sputtered up at him, his voice rising. Pairs of eyes began to turn in their direction, curiosity and hunger for gossip making them predatory. “You’re just a-“

Talia just stared at his hand and it came to his mind now that he was asking to break the first rule Dorian had laid down for this job.

He could feel heat rise on his neck at the scene this was becoming. Cassandra would string him from the rooftop if his name became a source of scandal.

Stubborn honor made Cullen refuse to withdraw his hand. If the woman refused him at least she had an out now. She could lay the blame at his feet, but escape this floundering man that sought to use her. He kept his chin high, his back straight. Let the gentry stare. They would not sway him from what he felt was right.

Talia was staring up at him, eyes wide. Maker, they were blue. They drifted from his own, to his hand, and back.

Stephen was still rambling on. Distant threats and warnings faded in his ears as Talia placed her hand within his and stood.

Her hand was different than how he imagined, and he was embarrassed to admit he had been imagining it. It was small in his own, but not soft. He could feel a roughness to the pads of her fingers and palm. Somehow in her affluent life, full of rules and expectations, she had found something to do with her hands.

He gave her a reassuring smile as Stephen tossed his cloth napkin to the charger and spat his ire. He found himself near breathless when she returned it.

He turned from the table and offered her his arm, praying this was not some silly gesture used only on TV dramas. He was rewarded with the warmth of her as she stepped closer to slip her hand into the crook of his elbow.

Cullen could not help but feel like a real knight as he escorted her outside. He could have sworn he saw a few older patrons give him a brief nod of approval. Maybe his name would not be muddied after all.

Her steps slowed as they reached the watery sunlight. It was an overcast day out, but bright enough to not be dreary. Fall had brought about an undercurrent of chill, just a nip of wind now and then to warn of future weather.

Cullen brought his steps in line with her own, content to meander at her pace.

“What did Dorian tell you?” There was a bite to her words, but not directed at him.

“Only to defend the princess’s honor.” Dorian had demanded confidentiality on the details of the contract. Cullen put on his most charming smile, hoping she would not press further.

She gave an exasperated sigh, but did not pry for more.

Her steps began to falter as they reached the parking lot.

“Ser Cullen, thank you for-“

“I’m to see you to your car, my lady.” Her hand almost slipped from his arm but his interruption kept it in place.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do.” He stated simply, hoping the firmness in his voice would quell any further debate.

He could hear her mutter Dorian’s name, but she continued leading him to her vehicle.

Cullen did not consider himself a car man. He could appreciate a well-made car and would certainly never turn down the opportunity to drive one, but he did not have every make, model, engine detail, and price memorized.

She led him to some sort of BMW that fell between sporty and conservative. The stormy grey paint was spotless and Cullen wondered if there was a butler hired just to buff it every day. The sunroof, tinted windows, and detailed wheels completed what must have been a car dealer’s dream sale.

He may not have been an enthusiast, but he knew an expensive car when he saw one.

Talia withdrew the keys from her small purse and clutched them in her hand. She was avoiding his eyes and the car. The silence that had been so comfortable between them as they had walked now grew strained and awkward.

Cullen cleared his throat and fought for something to say. “It’s a um… it’s a nice car.”

It was as if she had been waiting for him to say it. Her shoulders sagged and she gave a weary nod. Cullen ground his teeth and wished he could recall the words.

“Thanks.” The response was muttered and insincere.

She clicked a button on the keys and the car chirped a happy response, unaware of the strife it was causing.

The woman that had took his hand and smiled so warmly at him was gone, replaced with someone small and closed. Cullen struggled to gather his wits before she breezed from his life.

“I apologize.” He found himself blurting, not even entirely sure what he was apologizing for.

She blinked up at him as if she had to process the meaning of those words. The light did not return to her eyes and he found himself missing that curiosity that had burned so bright just moments ago.

“It’s alright.” She mumbled, reaching for the door handle.

He reached for it first and stepped aside to sweep open the door for her.

“It isn’t if I have made you uncomfortable.”

She hesitated, toying with the keys in her hands as the moment stretched out between them.

Talia finally nodded.

“It’s just…” She gave a little uncommitted shrug, finally turning her eyes back to him. They were full of something that pulled at him to understand meanings beyond what she was saying. “This isn’t me.”

Those words resonated within him and found matching ones buried somewhere in his memories. This is not me. He had once shouted those words to himself, repeated them each day during each memory that threatened to engulf him and carry him away like a wayward tide. She had been born into this life, he had chosen his. Those words came from a different place for him, but the message was the same.

He placed his hand over his heart, giving her a brief bow. “I would never presume that it was.”

She stared up at him, searching his eyes for truth. He held her gaze, letting her see the way her words had found purchase within him.

After a moment a shy smile touched her lips, heralding the blush that touched her pale cheeks. Her head ducked down at just the right moment to miss the matching one crawling from his neck.

“At first I was furious at Dorian for this… this knight thing. But now I’m glad for it.”

She set her bag into the car and slid into the seat. Cullen stood fumbling for a moment for words, his hand still perched on the top of the car door.

“I hope to see you again, Talia.” He had decided on simple, but the words insisted on continuing. “Maybe as something other than a knight. Well, I’ll always be a knight, but… I mean-“

He slapped his hand to his forehead, fingers finding his temples as that blush turned fierce. He was rewarded with a kind laugh.

“I would like that, ser Cullen.”

The answering grin could not be kept from his face. He gave her once last glance before shutting the door and stepping away.

That grin stayed with him until he returned to the office and Cassandra caught the look in his eyes.

#dragon age #dragon age fanfic #fanfic #cullen rutherford #modern au #knight shop au #cullen rutherford x inquisitor #modern

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porterblt · 4 years

Text

Birth Story

Finally sitting down to write this out! Probably going to separate it into segments for ease of remembering?

Pre-Game:

April 21, my due date, came and went. I wasn’t necessarily expecting to go into labor, but I was hoping at least something would happen. Chris I had gone on a long walk around the neighborhood, and by the end of it, I was more crampy/uncomfortable than usual. I also thought he had dropped a bit lower, but wasn’t really sure. Either way, I was still pregnant AF. We went to bed.

Around 3am, I woke up with (what felt like) a painful contraction. I psyched myself up, but I ended up drifting back to sleep and nothing happened. Around 5am, Chris got up to pee and then I got up after him. When I sat up, it felt like a small gush came out. I wasn’t sure if I had peed myself (that has never happened?) and it was really hard to tell. I got up, went to the bathroom, and still couldn’t tell. The more I would bear down, the more fluid would come out. I called the OB on call, and after some back and forth (I was indecisive), she told me to go to St. Mary’s. I told Chris, and after he woke up, he immediately started cleaning the kitchen. LOL. I was shakily packing up my bag and trying to remember everything I needed, and the longer I went, the more I could feel the fluid leaking out when I bent over/lifted something/etc. When I was nearly ready, I realized that Chris had barely packed and was cleaning dishes and wiping the counter top. I finally got him to pack up his bag, and then he nervously was like, “Do you think I have time to take a shower?” CHRIS, my water broke and it’s been 30 minutes! We finally got all of our shit together and then went to the Hospital.

We got there around 6am, and had to get screened for Covid at the entrance. They took our temperatures and gave us stickers (Chris got a wrist band) and then we went to the 3rd floor to get checked in. A nurse got me situated and started an IV. A midwife came in and checked me - I was already 90% effaced, 3cm dilated, and he was -1! I had no idea I was that far along - the last I heard, I was only 1cm. She said she was really impressed by how good of a start I had. We talked about contractions (I hadn’t really had any yet) and decided that I would try to get them started by doing things around the room (couldn’t walk the halls in the hospital, unfortunately) and if I didn’t start on my own by 11am, we’d do Pitocin.

Shift change happened at 7am and I had a really sweet older nurse named Lynette, who would come check on me periodically and talk our ears off for a little while. Dr. Serrah was the dayshift OB and introduced herself - she was super nice. Then Chris and I spent the next ~5 hours just hanging out in the room. It was actually pretty pleasant. I’d get the occasional contraction, we’d have snacks, watch TV, text our relatives, etc. Finally in the late morning, Lynette was saying, “I think it’s time to start the medicine. You didn’t come here for a vacation - we’ve gotta have that baby.” So we started the Pitocin.

Labor:

I’d heard horror stories about Pitocin and how it caused super intense, awful contractions. Thankfully, she started at a pretty low dose and the contractions weren’t that bad. I didn’t even really start going into labor until 11:45 or 12. When they hit, they were like period cramps. After a while, Lynette checked on me and said, “Ok, let’s bump it up.” I’d do a nervous laugh every time she said that. I told Chris it was like the machine in the Pit of Despair from Princess Bride. Each level would make you feel worse and worse. It was like, “Oh, you’re not uncomfortable enough. Let’s change that.” Then, around 1pm, we started hearing a woman across the hall yelling. We just looked at each other nervously. Her yelling became bellowing, which became shrieking. Lynette would come to check on me, increase the medication dose yet again, and then we’d listen to the screaming lady. Oh, and this whole time I was basically doing squats, bouncing on an exercise ball, pacing the room, etc. She said that I needed to do things to get him lower into my pelvis, which would make the contractions more intense and more effective.

Finally Lynette was like, “You’ve been up for a while, do you want to get in bed and rest for a bit? You need to save your energy for when things really get going!” By this time I was already starting to feel a bit uncomfortable, and was like “Oh, ahahah yeah, when things get going...” Also, I had no idea I was allowed to rest in bed! I clumsily climbed in and she was like, “Let me get the peanut ball!” and came back with this giant, peanut-shaped exercise ball to keep in between my knees. That way Everett could still work his way down into my pelvis while I was lying down. I was somehow able to doze a little bit, and then Chris decided to step out for a few minutes to walk around and get some air. Of course, about 10 minutes after he left the contractions started to get pretty bad. I didn’t have my phone (it was plugged in and sitting in the chair next to my bed, out of reach) and I weakly called out, “Hey, Siri!” trying to get it to text Chris and tell him to come back. I got out of bed with great difficulty, and Lynette came back in to check on me. She gave me my phone and I was able to text Chris, which he didn’t respond to. The contractions were getting way more intense and close together, and I was getting to the point where I wasn’t able to really stand or talk while each one was happening. I told Lynette that I was feeling like it was time for the epidural. She opened up my fluids to get my blood pressure up and called the anesthesiologist. This was maybe around 2:15? I finally called Chris and told him to come up. He was like “Oh yeah, sorry!” and he hurried back up to me. He had been walking around the courtyard and then in the chapel. He had ended up being gone for about 40 minutes. He immediately came over and was helping me stay steady through each contraction. They were pretty rough. They were like really strong period cramps that went up my back and down to my thighs.

After another phone call, the anesthesiologist finally moseyed into the room and started the epidural around 3:15. I was pretty nervous about what the pain would be, and it was hard not to imagine the needle going into my back. It definitely felt weird and hurt, but the pain was so fleeting and before I knew it, the procedure was done. After about 5 minutes, Everett’s heart rate started to go down with each contraction, and my blood pressure was getting a little low. Lynette picked up on this right away, and when she checked me she said, “OH. Wow. you’re nearly 10cm!” She hit the call button and urgently asked for help to set up the room. A couple of people came in and started setting things up. I looked over at Chris and suddenly started crying. I was so scared, and things went so fast! I had literally just gotten the epidural! Lynette kept saying, “She’s 9cm and a lip!” I had no idea what that meant, though she finally explained that the only thing that was preventing me from being 10cm was a tiny part of my cervix on one side. The doctor came in and checked me, and confirmed that I was nearly 10cm. They started asking my if I noticed contractions, and I was like, “Oh, I’ve been having contractions this whole time! I forgot!” It was amazing how numb I got, and how quickly it happened! I could still move my legs, but they were very heavy. My skin was totally numb - it was like being at the dentist and touching the side of my face and not being able to feel it. By this time, the next nurse came in (I forgot her name!! Kylie maybe?) and she was pretty nice. I was sad to see Lynette go, because we had made it all morning and I was hoping she’d be there to deliver the baby. They had me get into different positions with my legs propped up, hoping to get that last bit of cervix to open up. Lynette stuck around for a little bit to keep charting, but she eventually left around 4:15. I kept doing stuff with the peanut ball and finally around 5pm, the doctor came back in to check me. She was like, “Yep, we’re at 10cm! Looks like it’s time to start pushing!”

Pushing:

I was nervously like, “Oh, ok!” and looked over at Chris with panic in my eyes, hah. She and Kylie got my legs into the stirrups and described vaguely what I needed to be doing. I had to put my mask on for this part. By this time I was able to feel a weird pressure whenever there was a contraction, but it wasn’t painful. It felt a little bit like I needed to poop. Dr. Serrah said, “Ok, here’s another contraction. On the count of three, you’re going to push! One, two, three!” I pushed hard, and felt this warm fluid shoot out. I was super confused and thought that more amniotic fluid came out. Turns out, I peed everywhere!! Because of the epidural I couldn’t feel my bladder and I had no idea that I even had to go. They chuckled and I was SUPER embarrassed. They used a catheter and emptied my bladder (which I couldn’t feel at all, THANK GOD). We waited a couple more minutes, and then during the next contraction I pushed. It must’ve been a pretty weak couple of pushes, because Dr. Serrah was like, “Ok, well I’ll leave you with Kylie for a bit and she’ll help you work on those pushes!” and she rolled out. I was a little surprised, I thought pushing meant things would start happening quickly? Apparently not. With each contraction, I was taking super deep breaths, which made me cough, which prevented me from being able to push effectively. I finally got my breathing sorted out, and we worked out a system. I rolled on my side, and when a contraction came, I’d take a deep breath and push for ten seconds, then take a deep breath, then push for ten more seconds, take a deep breath, and then push one more time for ten seconds. We did this throughout three contractions, then I rolled onto my back and we repeated it. I finally got the hang of what correct pushing needed to feel like. It literally was like trying to push out a giant poop. That’s what it felt like. And it felt like the poop wasn’t getting ANY closer. Eventually I started to feel more discomfort with each push. I rotated to my right side, then to my left, then on my back...I don’t know how many times I pushed, but it was over an hour. Finally it was getting really painful and I asked Kylie if I could crank up the epidural a little more. She was like, “Oh, well, you’re going to feel some pressure. It’s not going to get rid of all the pain.” Ok, I can handle a lot of pressure. But as we went on, the pressure turned into the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. To the point where I was crying and pleading with Chris, saying that I was afraid to push and didn’t think I could do it because it was so painful. I was holding his hands and squeezing them so hard. Finally, something in me just gave in and I pushed through the pain. With each push, I locked eyes with Chris and he helped me through it. They kept saying “You’re so close, he’s nearly here! You’re so close!!” and I’d suffer through another push, but then he still wouldn’t be there. Then finally, as I was hitting my breaking point, they said, “PUSH!!” and I pushed and pushed and then there was this horrific pain and then I saw a head come out, and within seconds the rest of his body came out. Then within another few seconds, he was dried off and on my chest. It was amazing and so surreal. I was completely exhausted, but I had this tiny, slimy baby on my chest. Chris was next to me, just staring at Everett and sobbing. He was officially born at 1855. I delivered the placenta (which I vaguely felt) and then she started assessing the damage from delivery. Everett was so quiet and sweet, and Chris was taking videos of him. Because of his little head facing away and the position of my mask, I had no idea what he looked like. After 5 or so minutes, I said, “Chris, what does he look like? Can you show me a picture?” Chris took a picture and showed me on his phone. I saw a little wet face and two big eyes that were just looking around, taking in their new world. They had Chris cut the umbilical cord (which I think he didn’t really want to do, hahah) and then we all just laid there quietly. Chris sent pictures and videos to the family and we just soaked it all in.

While we were in baby bliss, there were lots of people bustling in and out of the room. The doctor told me that I had two tears and that she was stitching them up for me. I felt them and it hurt, but it seemed minuscule compared to what I had already gone through. After about an hour, they took Everett over to get weighed and measured. 8lbs 1oz, and 21 1/4 inches long. Our little boy!! They swaddled him up and gave him to Chris. Held him for the first time, and it was completely beautiful. I took a couple of pictures. He just held Everett and looked down at his tiny face. They gave him back to me and then a Mother Infant nurse came in to talk to us for a few minutes. They were going to give me more time to recover and be monitored, and then we were going to get rolled over to the MIU. I tried to nurse Everett and he did it for an hour! He probably only got like, three drops out, but it was so sweet and I just stared at him the entire time. We just kept lying around and soaking it all in until about 9:30pm, when we got wheeled over to our new room. We met our new nurse, Sam, and then got settled. Chris went to Sonic (one of the only restaurants open) and got me a cheeseburger and milkshake. I was starving and exhausted, but so so happy. We called our families and talked to them for a bit. Then we settled in for the night.

Recovery:

This part is kind of a blur, because all the days kind of melted together. We were there until Friday morning, when we got discharged. The first night I got mayyyybe three hours of sleep? I was in a bit of pain, and I knew I had to wake Everett up every 2 hours to feed him. Again, I felt like I had no milk and wasn’t really sure how to feed him, but I was doing my best. Chris slept on the window seat that doubled as a bed (we called it his “shelf,” haha). The nurse would pop in every few hours to check his and my vital signs, but for the most part she gave us space to sleep. She’d change his diaper and give me little tidbits. Everett was so sleepy and sweet, he hardly cried at all that entire night/next morning. Getting up to go to the bathroom was rough. I was in so much discomfort and to be honest, was afraid to pee. Haha. But I figured out the rhythm and things ended up being ok. The next morning there was shift change, and our new nurse (I forget her name) was very sweet and seemed kind of young. I wasn’t crazy about her at first, but she ended up being really nice and helpful as the day went on.

A lactation consultant popped in in the afternoon and helped me with some basic things. Everett was a really sleepy eater and wouldn’t stay away for more than a few seconds at a time to eat. She gave me a lot of information and said off-handedly, “Oh, and sometime around the 24-hour mark he’ll start cluster feeding. So be prepared for that.” Ok, good to know? Wowww, she did not even remotely prepare me for what was going to happen. At that point in time, the only way I could tell that he was hungry was if he would open his mouth and root around, or make a clicking noise with his tongue. Around 3 or 4, he started to get hungry and wanted to eat. And eat. And I’d put him back in the bassinet, and then he’d want to eat some more. At this point, I’d only had like, 5 hours of sleep total over the past couple of days so I was getting pretty tired. Sometime around shift-change, we had a new nurse come in who was probably in her 60′s named Shirley and said, “Oh, I’m a lactation consultant! I can help you with x y z!” Well, then she left and I didn’t see her for hours. Everett’s feedings became longer and closer together. At one point, he just got so worked up and I got worked up. He was crying and screaming and I was crying. I just didn’t know what to do, and I was so tired. Every time I put him down, all he wanted to do was eat again. Soon it was after midnight and we still hadn’t seen our nurse. I didn’t want to hit the call bell for help (I just felt like it was stupid, like, “Help, my baby is crying,” I didn’t want to bother her I guess). Our nurse from the first night, Sam, happened to walk by and heard Everett’s screams (hah). She came in to see if we were ok and was surprised that Everett and I were a total mess. She took Everett and calmed him down, then re-swaddled him. She told me that with clusterfeeding, sometimes babies can smell their moms and want to keep eating, even if they’re not hungry. She said she’d come back around in about 45 minutes and take Everett to the nursery so we could get some sleep. She left and must’ve told our nurse Shirley that I was upset because she came in and was like, “Ohh, I’m so sorry, you should’ve hit your bell! I didn’t know you were having such a hard time in here!” She gave me some tips that were a little helpful and then eventually left. Sam came by around 1:30 and took Everett. He screamed and cried and I could hear him going all the way down the hall. I was crying and saying to Chris, “They’re not going to get him to calm down and he’ll have to come back and I won’t get any sleep at all.” Chris, of course, was calm and collected and said, “Nope, they know what they’re doing. Just get some sleep.” And luckily, he was totally right - I conked out and slept hard for three and a half hours. Same brought him back and said that as soon as they settled him in the nursery, he immediately stopped crying and fell right asleep. I was so, so grateful for the rest. She came in and checked on us a couple more times during the night, and it was so nice. I liked her the best out of all my nurses.

Around 5:30, a pediatrician came bustling into the room and grabbed Everett (who had been nursing for about an hour - I was exhausted and sore) and he assessed him, got him all worked up, then haphazardly swaddled him and handed him back to me. Poor Everett was crying and flailing his little arms and started screaming. The pediatrician said, “Man, that kid’s got a set of lungs!” I asked him to give us some guidance on Covid, and he just flopped down on the window seat next to Chris and started talking about the “orientals” wearing masks and how not many babies or children had contracted the virus that they knew of. He basically said that we shouldn’t worry too much, and then left. We weren’t sure how much we should trust him. Chris re-swaddled Everett and we got some sleep before shift change came in.

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