#autumn is so pretty on the backroads

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 61

part 1 | part 60 | ao3

cw: mentions of canonical minor character death

Chapter 14

It's twilight by the time they make their way to Rick's place — gnat clouds swarming, sun dipped low, Lover's Lake an inky smudge beyond the blur of passing pines. Steve’s not totally sure how they got here, this dusty service road that's more pothole than pavement; one minute he's bitching about doomed love and double VHS, the next he’s taking the scenic route to a drug den.

There were some important moments in between, he’s pretty sure.

He’s also pretty sure he blacked out somewhere around the moment the morning news reported that an-unidentified-Hawkins-student-who-very-well-could-be-Eddie-Munson was found dead in his fucking trailer.

Kinda difficult to resurface from that one.

Feels like his soul’s got swimmer’s ear.

Even hours later — after Dustin and Max burst into Family Video talking a mile a minute about how Eddie was alive and they needed to use the phones; after Ernie stupidly gave a reporter Steve’s name, swearing up and down on the TV that his neighbor Steve Harrington was an upstanding young man who would never do something like this; after they spent an agonizingly long afternoon lying low and taking backroads to avoid the cops because the cops probably suspect Steve of murder now, oh god—

“It’s this next right up ahead,” Max says from the back seat. There's a map spread over the bench between her and Dustin, and Steve blinks himself awake; gives her a nod in the rearview.

Beside her, Dustin’s munching on Twizzlers he stole from the store — window down, easy slouch, just way too chipper for the situation at hand. "So Steve," he says conversationally, "now that you're a fugitive, does that mean—?"

Steve cuts Robin a pleading look.

Robin reaches back and smacks the little twerp upside the head.

"Ow!" Dustin whines.

"Shut up, please," Robin smiles.

Max makes a sound like she's trying not to laugh and checks the map again. "Right here," she says, pointing. "After that weird tree stump."

They turn onto another road that could be generously described as paved, once, several decades ago, and eventually, the winding path lets out onto a slightly nicer street. Aging but cared for, Holland Road is a crowded row of little lake houses, trailers and shacks with manicured shrubs and chipped fence paint, weeds growing through the sidewalks beneath pristine American flags. Steve pulls into the driveway of #2121.

It looks abandoned. Dark inside and out, a truck parked on the curb that's likely been there for a while, its tires sagging in a mulch of old wet leaves. There’s an autumn wreath on the front door.

“You sure this is the place?” he asks as they climb out of the car.

Max sasses him for questioning her navigation skills, Dustin unsuccessfully tries to land a revenge slap on Robin — a move that earns him a retaliation wedgie and a wrestling match he was never gonna win — and Steve pops the trunk and feels a hundred years old. Feels every bit the exhausted dad trying to keep the family road trip together as he grabs his nail bat and slings his duffel over his shoulder.

"You planning to spend the night?" Dustin teases from Robin's armpit, still bent double where she's got him in a headlock.

"No, just-" he drops the bag at their feet with a grunt, “doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

Dustin’s eyes bug out. “Is that a can of goddamn bear mace?”

“Keep your voice down!” Steve hisses.

“You keep your voice down!”

"Should I just go ahead and choke him out?" Robin offers.

Steve considers it for a second: knock 'em all out, stuff 'em back inside the car. Go do this shit quietly by himself.

He rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips.

"You're no fun," she pouts, but she lets Dustin go.

Dustin grabs flashlights and walkies out of the bag, passes them around the circle. They take a moment to steel themselves — huddled together in the dark, shoulders tense, the creepy house looming ahead. Sharp shadows stretch toward them. Croaking sounds creeping from the edges of the lake.

Robin puts her flashlight under her chin like she's about to tell a scary story. "Alright, kiddos," she says in a deep, ominous voice. "Let's go rescue Steve's ex."

Stunned silence in the sudden vacuum her words create. Steve lets out a tired sigh. Dustin’s jaw is on the curb.

“His WHAT?” Dustin shouts.

Oh, my god. “He’s not my ex."

Robin rolls her eyes and says ‘sure’ under her breath, and Max turns to Dustin, laughing. “You didn’t know they were a thing?”

“We’re not—” Steve tries again.

“What were you trying to get them back together for then?”

She seems genuinely curious. Dustin seems three seconds from spontaneous combustion. “What was I WHAT?!” he yelps, limbs everywhere. Reminds Steve of Eddie so bad it hurts.

“Okay,” Steve interrupts, clapping them both on the shoulder; drops his voice to a harsh whisper. “In case you two forgot, we’re here to rescue Eddie.”

“Who you’re dating.”

Dustin’s voice is small, disconnected, his gaze far away. Like he’s shellshocked.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “I— Yes. No. It’s complicated.”

Max snorts at his answer, Dustin makes a series of faces like he's gonna need seven years to process, and Robin interrupts his crisis by waving her flashlight like a traffic guard, walking backward up the hill as she directs them toward the house.

“Why don’t we just go find him first?” she suggests, making a rainbow with her hands, flinging light through the grimy windows. “And then Stevie here can answer alllll your big gay questions.”

Steve glares at Robin. Dustin glares at him, narrowed eyes for a full ten seconds like 'yeah, you fucking better,' and then he takes off up the driveway hollering Eddie's name.

—

part 62

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #max mayfield #dustin henderson #reefer rick #my writing #my fic

[feelbokkie]

Let’s Fall in Love, IRL | Chapter 10

pairing: Jisung x fem reader

genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, Pen pals to lovers, friend of a friend to lovers

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it); 3rd person

warnings: swearing (what's news), slight depiction of a panic attack, mention of food

summary: When she was a child, L/n Y/n was in a horrible accident that left her face disfigured.  After getting bullied relentlessly by her classmates for her appearance, Y/n escaped to the digital world where she meets Felix. Now an adult, Y/n has be come a complete social recluse, only talking to her 4 childhood best friends and roommates and her only friends. When Felix goes AFK one day in the middle of a game, Felix’s roommates decides to step in. Is this the start a new relationship or will Y/n’s crippling social anxiety get in the way?

taglist: CLOSED

word count: 1,840

screenshot count: 11

previous | masterlist | next

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

"Do you want me to drive on the way back?" Hyunjin asks as he climbs to the front seat.

You watch as Seungmin walks away from the car, straight into the store. Inuyasha sits in the back, now occupying the entire backseat now that Hyunjin is sitting in the front with you. The car is off but soft music plays from Hyunjin's phone.

"I'm fine. Like I said, the car is another safe space." You reply softly.

You lean your head on the headrest of your seat, turning to face out the window to take in the scene. It's gloomy out. Even in late October, it's too cold. If anything, you're glad to be in the warmth of the car. Seungmin is insane for wanting to be out in the cold.

Your eye focuses on Seungmin as you watch him walk out of the store empty-handed. You wait for him to get closer before rolling the window down.

"They didn't have what you're looking for?" You ask as you unlock the car for him to get in.

"I didn't look yet." He says as he pops his head in through the window.

"Then why are you back here? Did you forget something?" Hyunjin asks, looking around his seat.

"No," Seungmin turns to face you again. His bangs just barely reach the top of his eyelids. He dyed it recently, opting for a lighter color than you're used to. His blonde hair resembles the golden brown of Inuyasha's fur. In a way, it makes him look like your dog. "It's pretty dead inside. Do you want to come with me?"

bum, bum, bum

You freeze. You're not sure if it's the late autumn air coming in from the open window or your nerves, but the car suddenly feels much colder than it was just a few seconds older. You can't help but stare at Seungmin. His eyes are soft and concentrated, hoping for you to say yes. The car moves suddenly as Hyunjin adjusts himself in the seat.

"Seungmin, what are you--"

"I'm not talking to you, Hyunjin. I'm talking to my sister."

"She's my sister too, dumbass--"

"I'll go," You say quickly.

You blink at Seungmin, unsure of where this newfound confidence is coming from because you feel anything but confident. Your heart is pounding so hard in your chest that you can feel it in your throat. You’re waiting to throw up your heart any second. Your body feels cold and clammy. You regret your impulsive answer.

“Are you sure?” Seungmin asks, taken aback by your answer.

You think for a moment. The parking lot is empty, meaning Seungmin is right, the store is dead. You should be fine. Plus, you have Inuyasha, if something goes wrong, he knows what to do.

You quickly nod your head before you change your mind. If you need to, if it really is too much, you could always come to the car. Both Hyunjin and Seungmin share a look before Seungmin moves out of the way of your door. You roll your window up as you mentally prepare yourself to leave the car.

It's daunting, the idea that you're about to walk into a store. The risk of running into someone is exponentially higher than your walks with Changbin. He would purposely choose backroads to have less of a chance of seeing other people. But it's almost impossible to avoid running into someone in a store. Your hair might get jostled or your mask could fall, and then what?

You take one, long, shakey deep breath before opening your door and stepping outside. Hyunjin, who you weren't even aware left the car, hands you Inuyasha's leash. Inuyasha hovers closer than he normally does. You close the door behind you, taking one tiny, minuscule step forward before freezing.

"I..." You start, not sure what you want to say in the first place.

"It's okay, I got you," Seungmin says softly as he slips his hand in yours. Your fearful eyes turn to meet Seungmin's hopeful ones. He gives you a small smile.

déjà vu

An image of younger Seungmin flashes in front of you for a second. You remember, your first day at your new school after you entered the group home. You were scared. You didn't talk, having become mute from the shock of the accident that took your parents and your left eye. You weren't close with any of the other kids in the house yet. But on that first day, you stood outside the school gates, terrified to walk in, and Seungmin, barely 5 years old himself, took your hand and didn't let go until you were ready.

"When my mommy and daddy were being mean, I would get really scared. But then my noona would hold my hand and I would be not so scared anymore." His small voice echoes in your mind.

You spent most of your life with Seungmin holding your hand, dragging you along with him so you wouldn't be scared. Not once has he ever complained. Or if he did, he never said anything to you about it. Hyunjin was always on your other side, either with his arm around your shoulder or on your head. He took his job as the oldest of the trio seriously. Always the first one to run to you when you got hurt. Always the first one to say some smartass comment if anyone said anything rude to you. Always the first to get Chan or Changbin if they were needed.

You feel small, like you're 5 years old again, while you stand in the parking lot. But, with Seungmin's hand in yours and Hyunjin's arm being placed on your shoulder, you feel stronger than you did back then. You feel, not so scared anymore.

"Okay," Your grip on Inuyasha's leash and Seungmin's hand tighten as you turn to face the store again.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," Hyunjin whispers as he pulls you into a side hug. You weren't even aware that you were shaking until Hyunjin's grip tightly wrapped around your shoulders.

"I...I can go in. It's fine." You take one deep breath while you stare at the store.

"I need you to understand something--"

"Ah, what the fuck!" Jisung jumps as he opens the door to the apartment, dropping his phone and keys in the process.

He's been gone for a few hours, still trying to process his earlier conversation with Felix. He left him on read, which doesn't look good given the circumstances.

"Were you just sitting in the dark waiting for me to come home?" He asks, holding his hand to his heart.

"That makes me sound like a creep," Felix says as he flips the lights on.

"And you don't think you are?" Jisung finally calms down enough to pick up his phone, silently praying that the screen is still fully intact.

It's painfully quiet in the apartment. Neither Felix nor Jisung dare to say a word while Jisung checks his phone over. The tension from their earlier conversation still loomed over them. Felix teeters on the balls of his as he waits to say something, his earlier confidence completely disappeared when Jisung screamed. The nerve he built up while he sat around waiting for Jisung to come home.

"What were you saying?" Jisung asks as he slides his phone back into his pocket.

"Oh, right," Felix rubbed his hands together, trying to build up the nerve again. "I need you to understand something. I don't like, Y/n. Not like that."

"But?" Jisung hesitates, unsure where this is going.

"No buts. I don't like her like that. End of story." Felix says firmly, emphasizing his position with a final hand gesture.

"So our earlier conversation? The way you've been weird since you found out we were talking? What was that?"

Felix bites his bottom lip, thinking long and hard about how to respond. Because the fact of the matter is: Felix doesn't like you. To him, you're just one of his best friends, and that's all. But that doesn't mean he's not jealous. You're his best friend. He found you first and adopted you as a permanent fixture in his life ever since he was an awkward middle school teen.

"I don't like sharing," He explains simply.

"And?" Jisung walks past Felix, moving to the couch to continue the conversation. "Is Y/n some sort of toy? What are you getting at?"

"That's not what I'm saying. Look," Felix runs his hand through his hair, very nearly ripping it out. "There's not much in my life that I've had that was just mine. My clothes, my career, and my friendship with Y/n. That was it. I shared a room with my sisters and so much other shit throughout my life. I live in a shared space where we pretty much have everything be common use. But--"

"But you didn't have to share friends with Y/n?" Jisung finishes.

"Exactly," Felix finally sits down, leaning against the back of one of the couches.

"I'm sorry...But you're not exactly sharing her. We have our own inside jokes and conversations and all that."

"I know, but...If you two start dating and it goes south, your relationship with her isn't the only one going to suffer."

"What are you...?' Jisung asks softly.

Jisung freezes, finally understanding what Felix is getting at. If you and Jisung broke up, Jisung wouldn't be the only one heartbroken. Your relationship with Felix would be at risk too. Felix introduced the two of you, therefore, he's guilty by association. Felix would rather have Jisung hate him and be jealous than have you not in his life. Even if it makes him look selfish.

"I don't want you to talk to me about Y/n because I don't want to be caught up in your relationship if that's what you really want. I don't want to give her any reason to blame me or walk out of my life."

"You say that like you're expecting me to fuck up," Jisung sits up in his seat a bit.

"I'm not, but I know how Y/n is. She is my best friend. My platonic soulmate. And I want to keep it that way. I rather not have you two date, but that's not for me to say. Just--I don't want you to misunderstand."

Jisung sit quietly for a moment, his eyes fixed on the front door to the apartment. He gets where Felix is coming from. But at the end of the day, he would never dream of hurting you. He likes you. He may even be in love with you. Hurting him would feel like hurting himself. Insane for a relationship that developed by accident a few months ago. The way that you and your voice have completely taken over his brain terrifies and excites him all at once.

"I get that, I get your fear. But I would never hurt Y/n. I can promise you that. I'll take good care of her."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @phtogravi @lilcutieana @veedoesntknaur @yongbbokkie @brain-empty-only-draken @thisisnotjacinta @thefangirloncrack @chlodavids @heartz4chuu @sunshinessky @reverse-soe @its-hannjisung @angelsandtimelords @zeejones @liknws @marked-unknown @sansona @aaasia111 @jhstayy @aslou @hyunbae-35 @kangaracharacha @skz-streamer @btskzfav @weird-bookworm @jihanniee @everglowdaisies @puppysmileseungmin

#feelbokkie writes #lirl smau #stray kids #skz #stray kids smau #skz smau #chan #bangchan #bang chan #lee know #minho #lee minho #changbin #seo changbin #han smau #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #han #jisung #han jisung #felix #yongbok #lee felix #lee yongbok #lee felix yongbok #seungmin #kim seungmin #i.n #jeongin

[sl-walker]

Neither Fox Nor Rose (ST:TOS, Arc of the Wolf) for the ask game please!

Ooh, boy. The story that goes after Forty-Eight, which was and remains the hardest tale I've ever told. Neither Fox Nor Rose refers to The Little Prince, sort of roundabout, and the discussion between the Little Prince and the Fox. In a part of the story not yet written, Mel Corrigan tells Corry that Scotty's not his fox nor his rose, and she's referring to that. And it's sort of-- not a refutation of the (paraphrased) line, "You are forever responsible for what you have tamed," exactly, but pointing out (correctly) that Cor's and Scotty's relationship is a helluva lot more complicated, and that it's also pretty erroneous to ever consider Scotty 'tamed'.

And that ties into a few scenes towards the end of this story, not quite written yet (though well known), where Cor tells Scotty that wolves and dogs are genetically almost identical. So-- what's the difference between them? And Scotty -- out of his head on narcotics and probably frankly also on anxiety medication -- says that the difference is that wolves don't need humans the way dogs do. Cor replies that that means the first wolf had to have chosen to come to the light of man's fire, and Scotty answers, "Not just once. The first wolf to the fire woulda had to have made that choice over an' over again."

Anyway! For a snippet (which takes place between those two yet unwritten scenes):

--

The sea fog weighed everything down as dusk fell; ghostly beyond it, the lights of homes intermittently faded into the dim radius of their constricted world, then out again.  Against the darkening sky, the evergreens and bare branches reached up and out, leaving the road a slick ribbon navigable by sight and sensor both, as it vanished into the silhouettes.

The decision to stay down on the peninsulas, hopping from one to the other on old backroads, wasn’t discussed; Corry didn’t need to speak up to know that both of them wanted to stay down there in the fog, bypassing even the relative gentleness of Damariscotta and Newcastle in the off-season.  Instead, he wove them along Splitrock Road and, where it ran into Bristol Road, stopped at the old, gray-boarded general store long enough to get a cup of hot chocolate for himself and a cup of ginger and mint tea for Scotty.

It wasn't exactly routine, but not too far from it; they had often ended up running the roads before, and if this particular time was heavier, then at least they were together for it.

Exchanging small talk in the store (New England politeness in full force) was a rote action that Corry went through, taking comfort in the normalcy of it even as he spoke the words automatically, the usual questions and answers, the gentle routine of it; when he came back out, the lids of the cups steaming in the thick and wet air, Scotty had his window down and his arms folded on the door, chin resting on those.

He blended well into the near-night, all gaunt highlights and shadows, but there was something softer written even in those stark lines than Corry had seen in quite some time; when Cor got back into the driver’s seat, only then did Scotty sit back again to take the offered tea, the barest wince accompanying the motion. “What did ye say those were?  A kind o’ tree frog, aye?”

It took Corry a couple of long moments of combing through those words before he was able to make full sense of them and pull up the memory they related to; he’d been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed the peepers singing in the twilight.

It was a sound he had looked forward to whole-heartedly every remembered year of his life.  He wondered what it meant that he hadn’t even caught onto it this time.

“Peepers,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment, not only to mark the sound of them calling into the dark, but to mark the conversation they’d first come up in, years ago.  Him and Scotty in the Wôbanakik Preserve, hiking together on a sunny autumn Saturday; it might as well have been a different lifetime altogether, for all that had happened since.  “I mean, I’m sure they have a scientific name, but we just call ‘em peepers.”

Scotty made a quiet noise in the affirmative, a low hum, and they sat sipping their drinks for another unmarked piece of time before he spoke again, “I hacked her jacuzzi.”

That had Corry looking over, caught off-guard; he was too wrecked internally to smile about it, but he could feel some small jolt of baffled amusement at the words anyway.  “To what end?”

“Pain relief.”  Scotty quirked his eyebrows, looking out the windshield and absently shoving his overgrown hair back out of his way, though to no avail. “Upped the salinity in it well past protocol so I could float.  Meant I had to cycle the cleaning system far more regularly than it'd normally call for, but it's none the worse for wear.”

“Did floating hurt less?” Corry asked, taking in his brother’s profile, heart aching in all too familiar ways at the thought of that pain.

Scotty seemed to think about it for a moment, narrowing his eyes, then said, “Hurt different.  A little less, but mostly different.  Not quite so localized.”

"And now?"

"More tolerable'n usual."  There was a beat, then Scotty added, "I went over to Boothbay Harbor with yer father."

The fact that Scotty had been in Maine often enough and long enough that there was no 'r' left in harbor, even used in the same sentence as over or father, made Cor smile for real, briefly, and made something ache in his chest.  At least until all of the implications of those words sank in.

Dad had been going over there for his monthly pulmonary workup for years now, ever since he’d retired.  He wasn’t ready to commit to a lung transplant because he was mostly able to change his lifestyle enough that the residual damage was manageable without too much disruption.  But that did mean he went to St. Andrews regularly to keep up on it, especially because he was the first person to ever be infected by that specific strain of bacteria and live to tell about it.

There were papers written about him on file; given his own field, Corry had some very mixed feelings about that.

But if Scotty went with Dad, that meant he probably didn't just go along for the ride itself. "What did they find?  And prescribe?  And recommend?" Corry asked, once he was sure he could do it with a neutral-to-positive tone that didn't give away his own, probably sad question of why didn't you let me take you?

Scotty answered the second one first; he pulled an orange prescription bottle out of his (borrowed? permanently appropriated?) coat’s pocket.  After Cor took it, looking over the label -- and noting that the address under Scotty's name was 139 West Side Road and not 22 West Side Road, where he was currently staying -- he said, a little reluctantly, "They only did a quick tricorder scan, so it only got so detailed.  But aside wantin' to do more in-depth scans to confirm it, they figure all that new bone they put me back together with in Baltimore, especially where it was knit to hardware, is micro-fractured all through.”  He worked his jaw for a moment, then admitted, “There were a few larger cracks that were lit up, too.  Not gettin’ into the connective stuff, anyway."

Corry barely held down a shudder, before finally managing to absorb the rest of the prescription label; it was a pretty hefty anti-inflammatory, the kind you could only get from a doctor.  Two weeks worth, presumably to give Scotty time to make some decisions without really letting him kick the whole thing even further down the road.

Cor wasn’t too surprised, though.  Even when they bolted from Maryland, he knew that his brother wasn’t going to heal without actual, active, professional medical care.  He just-- hadn’t anticipated the amount of time it would take before Scotty would even be tentatively willing to seek it.

Then again, now that he knew more, it wasn’t so hard to see why.  No matter how godawful it had been, having to wait and watch and note the inevitable deterioration.  Or the torment of knowing how much it had to hurt and being unable to do a single damn thing to help.

He handed the bottle back over, breathing out. “That’s a-- lot.  To get confirmation on.”

Scotty shrugged, though there wasn't really anything dismissive or casual about the gesture, even if his tone was firmly entrenched between those two as if he could downplay his own words.  "Aye.  And apparently I've lost seven and a half kilos somewhere between now and the last record they've got access to."

That also wasn't any real surprise; the numbers, not the fact of it.  Cor could see it especially on Scotty’s face, the softer curves and lines whittled down in a way that didn’t quite fit him; mostly, he was always too bundled up to see it anywhere else.  Another thing that Corry had been fretting over and was unable to do anything about.

“Maybe having the pain under better control will help with that,” he said, still stepping carefully.

“Maybe.  First thing I’ve had in hand that hasn’t seemed like some manner o’ self-punishment,” Scotty replied, saluting with the cup of tea, the two tags fluttering against the side.  “I mean, yer mother brought food, and the soup wasn’t too hard, but...”

He trailed off there; Corry had little trouble filling in the gaps.  

He wished he knew what to say.  Instead, though, he started the skimmer again; figured to drive a little more, maybe in the hopes that he’d be able to leave his heart-soreness in the parking lot and just let himself be relieved that they were talking and together.

#montgomery scott #andrew corrigan #corry #scotty #arc of the wolf

[apelcini]

The open road. November 24, 2019.

#gosh i really miss this #autumn is so pretty on the backroads #duck makes things #duck takes photos #not moomin art #autumn #photography #my photography #wanderlust #the open road #100 art #not drawing #roads

[kaistarus]

The Key to Love is Timing

Pairings: Hinata X Reader

Words: 3.5K

Summary: If the first confession fails... Just bottle it up for a few years and hope for the best? Hinata messed up the first time, but he's not one for quitting.

Notes: This has lots of manga spoilies. I just love time-skip Hinata and he deserves more content 🥰 

Masterlist // Ko-Fi

Karasuno high school loomed in front of you. The place that served as a sanctuary for so many years, helping you build lasting friendships and memories in classrooms that would soon be filled with new freshmen to take your place. It was bittersweet knowing your locker would soon belong to someone else, but you could only hope it would serve them as well as it had you.

Almost everyone had left the school grounds since it was nearing sundown, but you needed a while longer to say goodbye. You trailed your hand down the granite pillar that held the small canopied entrance. You were never good with goodbyes, and it would be hard to leave your friends behind. You’d made your plans to keep in touch and although you were the realistic type you still held had hope it could work out.

There was only one person you had avoided talking to...

“(Y/N)!”

You inhaled slowly before glancing over your shoulder at the boastful voice coming from across the courtyard. Hinata. You were hoping you’d run into him, whether you’d let yourself admit it or not. You noticed his sleeves were rolled up his forearms and that the schoolbag hung casually over his shoulder contained his uniform jacket-the sleeve hanging out loosely-as he pushed his bike toward you.

“Hey, yourself,” you tightened the grip on your own bag and languidly came to meet him at the front of the entrance. He was slightly out of breath when he reached out, taking large gulps of air to gather himself before speaking.

“I was hoping you would be here. I lost track of time and was worried I missed you.” He gave a crooked grin that made your heart skip.

“Well, I figured it would take you forever to say good-bye to Kageyama.”

He tilted his head in confusion before his face lit up. “You were waiting for me?”

Your eyes widened at your mistake. “No. I mean, I didn’t not want to see you, like, if we bumped into each other that would’ve been cool, but I wasn’t purposely trying to waste time...”

Smooth.

You found yourself unable to meet Hinata’s eyes until you heard a lighthearted laugh. His genuine smile was framed with unruly autumn hair that contrasted the cherry blossoms of spring that were flying through the air. You broke your Hinata induced trance when you realized he had swiped your bag from your grip.

“Um, excuse me?”

Instead of responding he took to placing your bag on the opposite handlebar from his own bag and pushing his bike ahead of you. You blinked, confused, before catching up to the boy.

“Since when do you carry bags?” You raised an eyebrow while gesturing to the bike. “Usually you whine about how it’s abuse I’m making you push your own bike.”

“I don’t know. I just feel like it,” he shrugged and turned away from you which only raised your suspicion that he was up to something. If he tried to steal your bag or pull some last day of school prank on you… you were so not in the mood.

“Wait, where are we going?” You realized you’d just been following the familiar backroad without thought. “Are you walking me home?”

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t we going to the halfway point? My house is completely out of the way.” You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at Hinata’s scrunched up face. “You’re acting really weird. Should I be concerned?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Thanks. I’m thinking about doing it professionally.” You stuck your tongue out at his deadpan glare and ignored the grumbling that followed. You focused on the warmth in your chest as you teased him and not the lurking dread that dweld with every step closer to your house.

“When do you leave for University?” Hinata’s question made your stomach twist.

“April,” you shrugged. “I leave for Tokyo a few weeks before classes start.” The silence that followed was unbearable. “When… do you leave?”

“Two days.”

You nearly gave yourself whiplash with how quickly you turned to him. You had figured he would be leaving quickly, but you always envisioned a month or two at least. Your time had been wasted and you didn’t even realize.

“That’s…”

“Soon.” He finished. You nodded slowly. “I wanted to start training as soon as possible. I need to learn everything I can about beach volleyball so I can be the best player possible.”

“I’m so happy for you, Hinata.”

And you were. Even if the smile on your face felt a bit forced you knew that you truly meant those words. So you ignored the ache in your heart because it came from a selfish part of you that was scared to lose someone you cared too deeply for. Someone who had the courage to chase their passions to new continents. You shoved down the pain and focused on your admiration at his continuous drive for self-discovery and improvement.

There was no time to pity yourself.

“We’ve both got adventures ahead of us,” Hinata said with an ear to ear grin on his face. You could only nod in agreement because Tokyo was nothing like Brazil, but you had your own sense of self-discovery you supposed. Slowly, Hinata’s face dropped into something more weary and his eyes drifted to his feet. “But…”

“But?”

“It’ll be weird not seeing you all the time,” he started, lifting his head to the sky. You followed his gaze, but found nothing of interest beside the cloudless sky slowly fading to peach hues as the sun set. “I mean, you won’t be coming to my games or bullying me at school.���

“I don’t bully you.” You deadpanned.

He waved you off. “You won’t be able to come over and help me teach Natsu volleyball when she complains I’m not a good enough teacher either.”

“Well, not everyone understands your ‘wam’ and ‘zoom’ into a ‘fwump’!” You said while moving your arms into random receives and spikes to match the sounds.

“Nishinoya did,” he narrowed his eyes. “Whatever, the point is you’ll be gone and… I’m going to miss you.” He glanced over quickly. “More than the average person.”

“I’ll miss you too.” You nudged his shoulder. “Lighten up. You’re acting so weird today.”

“I’m not acting weird…”

“You are!” A gust of wind sent cherry blossoms floating toward you from the trees that perched along your path. You held out your hand and let a few settle into your palm before smirking at the boy beside you. “Cherry blossoms, carrying my bag, talking all mushy. If you were anyone else I’d think this was some poor attempt at a love confession.”

Hinata stumbled over his steps before pausing all together and you furrowed your brow at him before realization struck you. His face had blossomed red in a furious blush and his eyes were set on you determinedly in a way that had your heart racing.

Your mouth went dry. “Hinata-”

“I’m not good with words.” He took a shuddering breath and his fists clenched. “Going to Brazil is my dream, but when I think about you not being there I kinda feel like I’m gonna throw up or something. And when I’m not thinking about volleyball I’m usually thinking about when I get to see you next so…” He glanced up at you more confidently and you started to panic. You’d wanted this for so long but… “I don’t know a lot of things, but I know that I love volleyball. So, it would only make sense that I also lo-”

“Stop.” You put your hand up between you both. “You can’t…”

“What are you talking about?” He tilted his head confused. “I’m pretty sure I can. I mean I’ve been debating it for at least a year now so-”

“A year?” Your eyes widen before you shake it off. “Nevermind, I meant not now. Not when you’re about to leave and I’m about to start university and…” You clench the material of your pleated skirt. “It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

He furrowed his brow at you and his eyes scanned your face. “How wouldn’t it be fair?”

You took a few shaky breaths to calm yourself and to hold back the unshed tears that burn in the back of your eyes. “I don’t want to be a burden to your training in-”

“You would never be a-”

“But it’d feel that way.”

His tongue stuck out the side of his mouth while he was deep in thought. You always found that a cute quirk, but now you were just desperate to know what possibly was going on in his head. He scratched the back of his head and glanced toward the sky once again, but like before you saw nothing of interest there.

“Okay,” he said, meeting your eyes once more. “Next time then.”

You blinked. “Next… time?”

He gave you a crooked grin. “Yep, it’s not like I’ll be gone forever.”

It seemed like such a silly thing to cry over such a naive promise, like he would actually still have feelings for you when or if he ever decided to come back to Japan. The realistic part of you knew it was a childish fantasy, but let him believe his bold words like you knew only Hinata could. However, the hopeful part of you, the one that leaked tears the moment Hinata’s smiling face was out of view, clung to the idea of his dramatic return and your tragic love story.

But days turned to months, and months turned to years, and you were no longer a child. You had come to terms that the world wasn't made for fairy tale endings.

 ~*~*~*~

 Nearly four years had passed since that day and for the most part you had moved on from it. You take a deep breath before flashing your laminated badge to the security guard that would allow you to enter the massive gymnasium. No matter how many times you come to these venues it still gives you a thrill being around the chaotic environment. The crowd’s chants, scuffling of athletes shoes, coaches encouraging shouts and rushed commands all created a cacophony unmatched by anything you’d ever heard. It was a no brainer that you were addicted to the atmosphere, eventually building yourself a career that allowed you to become a part of it all.

You had plenty of time before the match started to conduct the interview you’d been assigned for that day. You glanced at the scoreboard and a nervous ball hit the pit of your stomach at seeing MSBY Black Jackals vs Schweiden Adlers. You attributed it to the number of people in the audience, rather than the person you’d been lucky enough to be assigned to interview.

Nope. This definitely had nothing to do with Hinata Shoyo.

As you unnecessarily prepared your notes, pen, and recorder for the fifteenth time since you’d arrived at the arena you glanced into the audience. Your eyes landed on Yamaguchi and Yachi waving wildly to you from the stands and you waved back, taking note of the empty seat Yachi was pointing to beside her. Looks like you’d be staying for the match after all.

You stretched your arms above your head and let out a sigh, adjusting your blazer before glancing over your shoulder to where MSBY had now filtered onto the sidelines. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the tufts of orange hair bouncing between the team and you hadn’t even noticed your soft smile until Bokuto was pointing in your direction. Hinata’s head whipped toward you and you felt yourself freeze. If you were back in high school you’d probably describe this moment of staring into his amber eyes as magical in some way, but you just felt embarrassed you couldn’t remain composed while on the job.

He sends you a crooked grin and with a light shove from Atsumu he’s jogging over in your direction. You take a deep breath to center yourself before he’s way too close in your personal bubble.

“Hey.” He smirked at you. It was a familiar look, but he carried it differently. He radiated a newfound confidence that he didn’t have last time you’d seen him. Had he also gotten taller?

“Hi.” You breathed out. Internally cursing yourself for allowing him to have such an effect on you after so many years.

“You, uh, look really nice” He said, amber eyes bright and genuine. They were still so open, like shameless windows to his every emotion. At least that hadn’t changed.

“You look pretty good too.” You said quickly switching your focus to your notes. “How’s being back?”

“Trying to give me a pre-interview?” He smirked, raising a teasing eyebrow. “Don’t think I agreed to that one.”

“Just trying to get a better feel for the client,” you shrugged. “Not required, I suppose.”

“Client?” He pouted.

“This is a paid interaction.”

“Well, let’s keep it PG cause I’m really only good at volleyball for now,” he smirked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Your face dusted light pink at the suggestion. Yeah, he’d definitely matured over the last four years.

“Here’s the questions I’ll be asking,” you decided to ignore him, along with the cute pout he gave at being ignored, and get straight to business. “I’m going to be recording our conversation for my writing, so don’t worry about stumbling or speed or anything. Just relax and take your time.” Hinata’s eyes were soft when you looked back up to make sure he was paying attention. “What?”

“You’re just so cool.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek to calm your nerves. “It’s not that special. I’m just doing my job.”

“But you’re so good at it. You look badass.”

You shrugged. “I’m going to start the recording now,” you said and the moment he nodded in acknowledgement you pressed record. “Hinata Shoyo. MSBY player 21.” You said, marking the interview for yourself to which he just raised an eyebrow. “So, this is your first interview, right?”

“I had small ones in Brazil, but this is my first one as a professional player in Japan.” He smiled widely. “I made sure you were the first interview I had.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I got a few offers, but they didn’t matter to me if it wasn’t you doing them.”

You blinked at the confession, and found yourself lagging as you looked for the next question. “Um-okay, well, this is your first professional game this season on the starting line-up. What made you choose MSBY?”

“They were the best team at the time having try-outs!” Hinata crossed his arms and nodded. “I have to beat Kageyama after all.”

“It had nothing to do with Bokuto?” You tilted your head. You honestly thought he picked based on friendship.

“Nope, but that was an awesome coincidence!” He leaned closer to you and you looked around awkwardly. “So, what made you choose to be a sports journalist for volleyball? Anyone important in your life?”

Your heart began beating rapidly in your chest and you pushed Hinata’s face back with your notepad. “I’m sorry. I thought I was conducting the interview.”

“Well, as the client I feel I would be most comfortable answering my questions in a back-and-forth style.” He smiled innocently and you deadpanned. “Also, this is my first time, remember? I’m still learning.”

You rolled your eyes before deciding to just humor him. “I knew a kid in high school. Pretty obsessed with volleyball, so I spent a lot of time around it.”

“He sounds pretty awesome.”

“Yeah, it really depends on the day.” You said, making Hinata pout and grumble under his breath. “So, you went to Brazil for your career. How was it different there?”

“Beach volleyball is so different. It's an entirely new game compared to here. Less hands, more feet. There’s the wind and then the sand. It was really hard getting used to.”

“Will you be using some of that technique tonight?” You asked.

“On the court or...?” He smirked slyly with mirth dancing in his eyes. You glared at him and he sighed. “I mean, yeah. You’re staying for the game, right?”

“Um--I...yeah.” You answered awkwardly, looking between Hinata and the notes. He raised an eyebrow at your weird response.

“Are you dating someone?” He asked bluntly.

“What?” Your ears shot to your shoulders at his question, but he just looked at you calmly. “I-What does that-Why?”

“Cause you’re acting weird.”

You furrowed your brow and glared at the courts flooring beneath you. ““How do you think Brazil has impacted your playstyle?”

“You’re avoiding my question,” he said as you continued to avoid the question. He let out a groan before continuing. “You’ll definitely see it through my receives and blocking. I think it’ll really surprise people in my first match back.” Hinata answered smoothly. “So, are you single or…?”

You raised a brow. “Does it matter?”

“Duh,” he scoffed, dragging a hand down his face.

You sighed dramatically. “No, I’m not dating someone currently.”

“Currently!?”

“Oh my god, we’re like 22. Yes, I dated someone for a while just...” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I heard you were called Ninja Shoyo in Brazil. Do you know where that came from?”

“I don’t know, probably because I’m Japanese.” He waved it off and you furrowed your brow grumpily at his lazy response.

“Hinata you have to at least try to-”

“Do you still love me?”

You choke on your breath and nearly let the recorder slide out of your hands, but Hinata manages to grab it with quick reflexes. He holds it between you, tilting his head with an inquisitive stare.

“I don’t know what you-”

“Because I still love you.” He declared, refusing to break eye-contact as he finally confessed what he’d held on to for so long. “Have for over four years. I kept waiting for the right time, and I’m finally back now for good so… I feel like this is it.”

You stood there in disbelief and tightened your grip around your notebook in an attempt to ground yourself. This was not part of your plan. You had given up on this long ago. “There’s no way you still-”

“It never faded. There were a few times I wished it would,” he looked away almost shamefully. “Only when it hurt a lot, like, when I felt really alone. But even when I tried I just couldn’t. I’d read your articles and everything would come back, ya know?”

You nodded slowly. You remember how it felt when Yachi sent you the article about ‘Ninja Shoyo’. The way your heart had leapt just from seeing his picture. You had stayed up the entire night rereading the poorly translated article and telling yourself you just missed an old friend, nothing more.

You dumping your boyfriend a week later had absolutely nothing to do with it…

“It’s complicated.” You settled on. There were too many factors now.

“Then we can figure it out,” his wide smile nearly sent a thrum through your heart you’d been unknowingly yearning for. “No need to overthink. We have plenty of time.”

Your heart swelled at the words and their implications. “I guess… there is.”

“You said you’re staying for the game?” He asked, which you confirmed with a nod. “Awesome. We can eat and catch up or something.” His eyes widened as he waved his hands between you. “Doesn’t need to be a date. We can just hang out like old times.”

“But what if... I want to call it a date?” You asked nearly above a whisper, twisting the ball of your foot into the ground.

Hinata paused before breaking out into a crooked smile. “Then I’d be fucking thrilled, but no pressure. Okay?”

A whistle sounded and you both turned to see the MSBY’s coach waving to Hinata as the rest of his team took the court for warm-ups. You frowned at the sheet in your hands. “We barely made through the questions…”

“There’s tons of material on here,” Hinata winked as he pressed your recorder into your palm. “You can interrogate me with whatever after the game too.”

You smiled affectionately at him as another warning whistle came from his coach. He apologized to you quickly before running off toward the court. Your cheeks warmed when Bokuto ruffled Hinata’s hair and Atsumu gave a few suggestive looks in your direction while whispering in Hinata’s ear. But when he gave Atsumu a shove, his face a flaming red, you knew you hadn’t been kidding anyone.

The lights dimmed in the arena and you made your way to where Yachi had been seated in the stands. You kept glancing toward the sunshine boy who managed to light up your life the second he returned. Someone with that strong of a magnitude couldn’t help but attract everyone around him.

As he bounced around the court, laughing boastfully with Bokuto, the only thought in your head was that it should have been obvious. Of course you had never stopped loving him.

How could anyone stop loving someone like him.

#haikyū!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hinata #shoyo hinata #hinata shouyou #hinata shoyo #hinata x reader #love hiimmmmm #this got so long #i don't even know #more self indulgence #manga spoilers #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shouyo x reader

[peregrination-studies]

Foggy Lake, Fisherman Sweater and Apploe Cider for the autumn asks?

foggy lake: describe your perfect fall day

I'd wake up before sunrise, get dressed, and hop into my car. I would drive north for oh... a while. (See, I don't have deciduous trees around me, but if I go northward for a few hours, the colorful trees start filling in the ecological space.) I would take the backroads as much as I can, marveling at the transition from green to orange.

Once I had gone north for a bit, I'd set my maps to a national park, one I've never been to before. Ideally, it would be one that's known for its geology and fantastic fall display of colors. I'd arrive a few hours after sunrise, but, lucky me!, the national park I'd selected is cooler than my hometown at this time of year; it’s the perfect temperature for hiking! I would pull on my pack, click my compass on and just walk. Because it’s a perfect day, the trail I'd selected would be one that winds around the park and cuts through the most iconic features: maybe a waterfall, an outcropping of rock, a scenic overlook, a pond.... I would hike in silence for the majority of the time, occasionally stopping to sketch a new plant I've never seen before. The trail would loop around back to my starting point, and even after hiking, I’d still have time to explore the nearby town.

fisherman sweater: what do you do to cheer up after a bad day?

Since I already covered Bad Day of Small Annoyances: here's Bad Day from Bad News. Let's say I'm having a pretty alright day, but then I get a call. Someone's died or someone is ill or I didn't get into a program or some other Bad Event has occurred:

I go home. I put on The Good Place or The Office or Friends. I turn off my phone and make a cup of tea. I play some instruments absently so my hands are doing something, and I try to challenge myself by playing the instrument backwards or with a different hand position or with my eyes closed. Anything to not think about the bad day.

apple cider: a favorite memory

My first time SCUBA diving in a natural body of water (not a pool). I assumed I was going to love it because, I mean, breathing underwater has been my lifelong dream, but all the safety prep videos were focused on everything that could go wrong, so I was a little nervous. But, man, I got into the water and had that rare sense that I was doing the right thing. I never get that. The moment just felt like I was finally doing something that I was meant to do. And it's just so quiet underwater. There's so much noise on the surface; I didn't realize that until I was below. Being able to go underwater in brief intervals when you're swimming gives you a small sense of that quiet, but nothing matches the silence of being underwater for a prolonged period of time. The only sound is that of the bubbles rising from your regulator and occasionally sounds from the nearby creatures or boats overhead. I could think so clearly because there was almost no external stimulation distracting me. True, the water visibility was terrible, and true my BCD was old and all messed up so I would occasionally rise or sink VERY rapidly, but it's still one of my favorite recent memories.

Thanks for the ask!! Ask game x

#mutuals #friends #cantankerouscanuck

[vinylhazza]

hey baby! hope you’re doing good☺️ could you maybe do some bullet points of gray and his girlfriend while they’re in jersey? this mf makes me so fuckin soft when he’s staying there

i mean fuck yeah lol

for sure swings her on that rope swing he built on his moms front porch early in the morning when the sun is rising and there is a cool breeze and late at night when their talking about the future, the past, and everything in between

drives around showing her all the places he loved growing up and the memories that were attached to each place

he loves to take a trip to NJ especially when autumn comes around. he knows she love all the fall festivities and with being in LA, it just doesn’t seem to be the same. not only does he get to visit his family, but he gets to make sure she gets her fix of the pretty colors of the leaves changing (which he insists on making a gigantic pile for her to jump in), the early morning chill she loves to wake up to, apple cider, pumpkin patches, sweaters sweaters and more sweaters, etc. there is something truly spectacular about NJ when that time comes around every year.

all i’m saying in that the simple living feel she gets around grayson in Jersey is something she could get used to. seeing grayson in his happy place makes her happy which is why she becomes such a big advocate for him flying right back to his home town when things get a bit too heavy in cali.

a lot of the time she can be found hanging out with lisa, which softens up grays heart with every second he sees them laughing and gossiping together about this that and the other. he’s always wanted to be with someone that loves his family almost as much as he does and she fits right in from the very moment she meets them

loves loves loves to watch the boys skate on the backroad they always practice on - but absolutely losing it when he gets hurt even if it’s a scratch or scrape

squished together on the bed in the spare bedroom/laundry room, laughing her ass off at the groan he lets out when the buzzer goes off on the dryer randomly in the morning. he’s stuffing his head under a pillow and mumbling “fuck ethan” under his breath. ethan always chooses to do his laundry at the most inconvenient of times, and it doesn’t change once he gets to jersey.

i think it’d be cute if he teachers her how to ice skate there since she’s never been before, holding her hands to keep her somewhat steady, watching her legs wobble like a baby deer, making fun of her ridiculous stance and squeals when she just about tumbles down onto the ice and brings him with her. she get’s the hang of it at some point.

she loves to hear him talk about moving back to jersey when it’s due time, after he’s got his fix of the LA life. she knows how much he truly wants to be back home, and does her best to support him when he drives around looking at pieces of land: talking up what kind of property he might build, how big, etc.

taking walks in the morning with some coffee, bundled up in Pj’s still, doing her best to be the morning person she’s never been just because he loves those morning walks. her ideal time to wake up is normally 9:30-10, but that doesn’t seem to apply when she starts dating grayson. she turns from late riser to early riser quickly and she can’t say she regrets it when she get’s the benefit of spending more time with grayson.

#asks #grayson headcanon #gray headcanons #gray!concepts #grayson!concepts

[ashtrayfloors]

My allergies have turned into a cold. I’m actually not panicking thinking it’s The CoViD* (well, no more so than usual; I panic about CoViD weekly even when I’m feeling fine), because this happens to me literally every fucking year around this time. Seriously, as I was rereading/reblogging all my old journal entries, pretty much every fucking year in late September I write an entry that’s like well, my allergies have turned into a cold. So, yeah, this happens every year but it still sucks.

Tuesday we took a long, meandering, backroads day-trip to Kettle Moraine State Forest. Now that I’ve gotten back on the road, I’m eager to soak it up, even if that’s just on a day trip here and there. We drove through sweet small towns. Passed a farm stand with a ton of squash and greens, and I wanted to stop, but the kids were whining because they wanted to get to the park and eat our picnic lunch, so we pressed on. We passed a house that I thought immediately: I could live there. It was an old farmhouse with a screened-in porch and a fresh coat of white paint, and sunflowers in front growing up almost taller than the house, and a big veggie garden and a chicken coop in the side-yard. And it was for sale, and I genuinely had a momentary impulse to try and see if there is any way we could get a loan and scrape up a down payment. Then I looked across the street, and saw that the house there had an enormous Tr*mp/P*nce sign in their yard, and the impulse disappeared.

There’s so much I love about rural and small-town America, but then I’m always reminded that I’m only safe in many of those rural areas and small towns insofar as I’m perceived as cisgendered and heterosexual. And of course people’s perceptions of me as cishet is an ever-shifting thing, depending on what I look like on any given day, who I’m with, and the viewer’s personal biases. But even if I was perceived as cishet 24/7/365, by everyone, the fact of the matter is I’m not. Even if I was always safe in those environments, I’d never be comfortable. 

The park was nice. The wild woods, the golden early autumn light spangling through the trees; the Ice Age Trail; steep paths up to overlooks of the kettles. It gave me an opportunity to teach D. a little bit about the geology of the area. I wanted to stay longer, but C. was getting ready for a nap and starting to get cranky, so we left.

I didn’t even realize until after we got home that it was almost exactly fifteen years ago that “Maggie” & I camped there, at the start of our Wisconsin-to-Minnesota adventure. Then the memories came flooding back: cooking beans over a campfire, drinking whiskey, casting spells; hearing howls in the woods & spooking ourselves with werewolf stories; waking early in the morning and walking to the water, the steam rising off into the chill air, watching a river otter swim in the early light. I remembered, also, that I’d called “Levi,” my then-boyfriend, the night we camped there. It was his birthday, and I called him to say Happy Birthday, and also to tell him that Maggie and I were camping and embarking on a few-day road trip. I could barely get a signal that deep in the woods, but I managed to find enough of one to talk for a few minutes. And he got pissed at me that I’d gone camping/gone on a road trip without him, starting on his birthday no less. But we hadn’t even moved in together yet. I’d already moved to Milwaukee, into the house which Maggie later christened Chateau de la Fuck-You-Up, but Levi was still living up in Door County until later in October. So at that point he lived three+ hours away from me, and had already planned to spend his birthday with his D.C. friends. What was I supposed to do, sit around at home and pine? (Queue: Now man was born to go a-lovin’ / was woman born to weep and fret? / To stay at home / and tend her oven / and drown her past regrets / in coffee and cigarettes.) Sigh. That was such a pattern in my life; dating guys who were incredibly threatened when I did anything without them. Levi wasn’t even the worst of the bunch in that regard.

Other things:

No justice for Breonna Taylor. I’m not surprised, but I’m pissed. 200,000 CoViD deaths, of which they say approximately 145,000 of them wouldn’t have happened had we had even a mediocre national response instead of the complete lack of one we did have. When I think about current events, I just vacillate between rage, sorrow, and utter exhaustion.

In my own personal life, other than being sick, things are pretty good. P.’s still on-and-off depressed and anxious (of course he is, he just lost his mom), but we’re managing. Our relationship is still doing well. Last night we danced to Lou Reed in the kitchen while I preheated the oven for dinner. The kids are doing pretty well; they’ve been happier now that we’ve started having little adventures. I’m teaching D. about poetry; today’s unit is on the villanelle. It’s autumn, officially. My favorite season. And it’s the fantastic part of early autumn when the days are still warm and sunny, but in the evenings you need to don a hoodie to go outside. It’s warm enough to keep the windows open; cool enough to drink tea. And all the autumnal foods. Last night I made turkey-cranberry-gouda-horseradish mustard-arugula paninis; today for lunch I made a cold version of the same sandwich with a side of butternut squash soup. Tomorrow  night I’m making apple cider chicken with a sweet potato-red onion-brussels sprout hash on the side. Writing-wise, I’ve started working on some surreal prose poems inspired by that list of deleted Wikipedia articles with freaky titles. And I’m working on some ekphrastic poems, and I’m resurrecting (pun intended) the project I started working on last fall, the poems about classic horror movie monsters/the actors that portrayed them. And I’m hoping to get a short lil’ issue of my zine done before Midwest Perzine Fest.

And of course I’m gearing up for Halloween season. I’ve already put some Halloween things on my altar, I’m listening to a lot of spooky tunes, and I frequently wear either my Release the Bats shirt or my Boris & Bela & Peter & Vincent shirt. We’ve got big plans for Halloween this year, as a family. Since Halloween events are pretty much canceled, we’re going all out at home. I’m going to do lots of Halloween crafts and baking with the kids, and we’re going to totally deck out the house with decorations. On Halloween night, we’re going to all dress up in costumes, and give the kids a trick or treat scavenger hunt indoors. P. and I are going to be Gomez and Morticia, after talking about doing that for pretty much the whole time we’ve been together. (We might even do a fun thing where we take some photos with him as Morticia and me as Gomez, and then switch for Halloween itself. It’s lucky that we’re close enough to the same size and height, we can do things like that. Plus he’s cool with it; he might technically be a straight cis dude but he is a cool straight cis dude, gets my gender stuff, and used to wear makeup and skirts etc. a lot when he was in a band.)

I feel like crap, physically, but I already feel better than I did yesterday. I’ve taken really good care of myself today. I rested as much as possible, had a warm bath, had soup and tea and whiskey. And I treated myself to a small present: a new scent from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab; their Harvest Moon 2020 scent. In related news: boy, am I excited that the Harvest Moon is on October 1, and that we have another full moon in October, a blue moon, on fucking Halloween.

#railheadtowns #dear livejournal #illness #adventure #small town #kettle moraine state forest #memories #current events #covid19 #life #small good things #food #autumn #writing #halloween #plans #self care #moon

[kid-crashed]

Bluepulse Week - Day 5: Colors/Seasons

It seemed like everyone in the world had a specific season they they just thrived during. Sometimes it had to do with personality, other times it was more so a matter preferred color palettes or fashion aesthetics. Looking around at his friends, Jaime could pinpoint pretty easily what time of year fit who the best.

Gar did best in the spring, when the flowers bloomed, animals were out, and everything was all around green.

Summer was reserved for the more happy-go-lucky members of the team; like M’gann or Dick. The people who always seemed to bring smiles to everyone’s faces and brighten the mood on what could have otherwise been a sour day.

Personally, Jaime pegged himself as more of a winter. Winter was cold, and while he didn't consider himself cold-hearted by any means, he wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy. He was well aware how awkward and standoffish he could appear when meeting someone; his mother always did say first impressions were the most important.

Winter was constantly colored in blue and white, and while white wasn't exactly his color… Well… Blue was in his name. Blue was the color of his suit, heck, it was the color permanently fused into his spine. So Jaime had to be winter.

It fit him… Didn't it?

But fall? Autumn? It was as if everything about that season was designed for one person in particular. Autumn was just for Bart. In all seventeen years of his life, Jaime had never met someone who so perfectly reflected everything a seemingly arbitrary collection of months had to offer. But somehow, against all odds, Bart did just that.

Bart was brilliant red and burnt orange, crossing over butternut squash and an hazelnut to make an earthy plaid. He was the rainbow of leaves that all change colors, falling at different times, but matching so effortlessly with his auburn hair. He was stepping on each one, hearing that satisfying crunch, sometimes almost too quickly when the speedster would run.

He was a hand-me-down flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Wearing the same free tee shirt he got at the Keystone county fair over and over again because he thought the cartoon pig on the front looked funny. Not being sure if he should bring a jacket or not because the morning was such a different temperature from the afternoon. Bart was the scent of nutmeg and cinnamon in decaf iced latte; decaf because he most definitely did not need the energy boost, and iced because the guy would always swear up and down that he could handle the cold drink, even when it was chilly out, but he’d always start shivering not even halfway through it, so he always ends up stealing Jaime’s hot apple cider.

The speedster was an all you can eat pumpkin pie, smothered in whipped cream until you couldn’t see the pastry any more. He was hot apple crumble, fresh out of the oven, slightly burnt and a little two tart because someone forgot to buy sugar again. Bart was apple spice body soaps and butterscotch hand creams, because his skin would crack from wearing gray and black striped fingerless gloves too long.

Bart was tearing down country backroads, where pavement turned to gravel and dusts, running just a step below top speed, because it made the leave swirl behind him like a little tornado. The brightest smile Jaime had ever seen in his entire life was plastered across the speedsters face. It was enchanting. Yeah. Bart Allen thrived in the fall.

There was only one time Jaime ever brought this little quarry up; while Bart laughed through the many layers of a knit scare that was way too long for him.

“Fall is your season.” The words slips out before he actually had the time to think about it.

Pale green eyes looked up in a cocktail of wonder and amusement. “Whaddaya mean?”

Jaime brought a hand up and scratched the back of his neck. He looked down at his feet and kicked the toe of his converse sneakers into the mud-covered pavement the currently stood on. “You remind me of the fall.”

“That’s cute.” There was a slight crackle in Bart’s voice as he laughed. He reached a hand into Jaime’s sweatshirt pocket for one of his hands, intertwining their fingers. “It’s kinda funny though. You remind me of a season too.”

“What? Which one?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Bart beamed up at Jaime, an eyebrow raised to highlight just how strongly he believed in this. “You remind me of summer.”

#bluepulseweek #bluepulse week #bluepulseweek2018 #bluepusle #bart allen #jaime reyes #impulse #blue beetle #yj #young justice #kid flash #teen titnas #yj season 3 #young justice season three #young justice season 2 #yj s2 #bart x jaime #dc comics #dc #dick grayson #robin #nightwing #garfield logan #beast boy #m’gann m’orzz #miss martian #fall #pumpkin spice #flannel #gay

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

September Song (2/3)

I’m sorry @kitten-wrath that this took so long, but I do hope you like it. @hoodoo12 @xerxezra thanks for brainstorming with me. Also, Ice Cream Rick belongs @porkchop-ao3. References to the flowers can be found here (The Language Of Flowers) and pizza rolls here (Sick Day)

Also, special thanks go to @her-victori for reading a majority of my fics in a short span of time. You Rock! As well to random anons who leave me sweet words in my ask box.

If you haven't read the first part of this fic then here's the link. (Read Part1 Here)

In this fic the reader tries to be more reserved and mature for Rick, but what will he think?

______

Chapter 2: These Precious Days

The mom and pop ice cream parlor which could be found at the edge of town offered over twenty flavors and twice as many topping options. Rick thought you'd prefer this quiet atmosphere over the crowd that would've surrounded Ice Cream Ricks truck in the Citadel; he was right. Though it really was a shame since Ice Cream Rick was actually pretty nice. After ordering, you two sat by the window with the best view of a lonely backroad and a white GMC truck.

“I-I-I like that you went for the rainbow jimmies.” Rick commented as he popped a mini gummy bear into his mouth.

“Hmm? Yeah, I like the texture.”

Which was true, but it wasn't the whole truth. You loved sprinkles on just about any dessert they could be placed on. They were fun, colorful, and your dad's favorite topping. They reminded you of good times. You continued. “And they're a classic. Wouldn't you agree?”

“I-I do. Would you say that y-your favorite flavor?”

Savoring the flavor of your chocolate ice cream, you nodded. “Yeah.”

Smiling softly, he seemed to be ruminating on this information, before storing it away and eating a spoonful of his pistachio ice cream. After a little while, he managed to get a bit of it on the side of his mouth, which made you giggle. And because old habits die hard, you picked up a napkin and wiped his face clean. Under your fingertips, his skin had that masculine roughness that came from constant shaving. Of course, you were familiar with it, but these slight reminders that came about by chance never failed to amaze you.

However, you were quick to pull your hand back because he wasn't a fan of public displays of affection, though it seemed to have the opposite effect, with him reaching out and placing your hand back on his cheek, and leaning into it. “I'm glad y-you were able to come with me today.”

Seeing as the shop owner was in the back room, you relaxed a little. “I am too.”

Rick was always a little funny when he got sentimental, which was why it didn't surprise you too much when his eyes bore through you as he said. “Me encanta estar c-contigo.”

“Rick,” you began, wanting to let this facade go and declare every single word of affection your heart felt inclined to say, but just as soon as you thought you were going to crack, you restrained yourself, and simply said. “your ice cream is going to melt.”

Several beats of silence passed, and he acknowledged what you had said, but he went on. “You - I-I sometimes wish I could carry you in my pocket, and have you look after me all the time, but th-that's silly isn't it? It's not realistic, and that w-would be selfish.”

“If it's you, then I don't think it is. While it wouldn't necessarily be practical to miniaturize me and carry me around, isn't the beauty of a relationship knowing that you're always on someone's mind and that they are out there somewhere caring and thinking about you?”

“Certainly, but what I-I meant to say is that it'd be nice if this was our life. If I could keep y-you and if you and me ugh - all th-the time…we - if we….” he faltered, fixing his eyes on something else in the room.

“You don't mean eating ice cream do you?”

With a sigh, he relinquished the hold he had on your hand, “N-no.” and continued to eat his ice cream; resigned, and slightly embarrassed. You couldn't help but feel a slight disappointment. It's not like he wanted to say the magic words. Right?

________

After ice cream, you two visited the bookstore on the corner of Kinder St and Lavue Ave; which had not only a coffee shop but a toy store connected to it. As soon as one entered into it, you were met with the latest best sellers, books on travel and wellness, as well as souvenirs; it was one of few places that didn't bother you if it was cramped. To your left next to the window were those mint boxes which said Adventure Awaits, and it filled you with gladness as picked one up; thinking of little things you'd put in it after all the mints were gone. For his part, Zeta-7 seemed to know exactly what he was going for, disappearing in the back where all the used books were. Not knowing whether to follow or look around, you just did as you pleased.

Past the Keychain holder, above the box of mini hands, you found a Mister Rogers mug. You loved that wholesome old man who used to teach lessons and play with puppets on PBS; Rick reminded you of him too. On the label, it said that when you added hot water to the mug, Mister Rogers would change from a suit jacket into his cardigan. Seeing as Zeta-7 hadn't returned yet, you decided to buy it and continued to look around until he soon returned with an older book in hand. “I-I-I hope I hadn't kept you waiting long.”

Facing the bookshelf, pulling out books that you were mildly interested in, you answered. “I knew you would show up eventually.”

Noticing the stack of books you had, he asked sweetly. “M-m-mi corazón, do you want me t-to hold those books for you? They look a-a little heavy.”

You weren't sure how long you could keep up this facade of being mature and not melting into a puddle everytime he said things like that, with him being as darling as he was. Nonetheless, you nodded and he lightened the burden on your arms.

“Wow,” he brightened. “I-I didn't know you liked Alexandre Dumas.” And picking out another book, he wondered. “Have y-you ever read this?”

“The Man In the Iron Mask? No,” you admitted sadly. “but when I was in high school I did read about a third of The Count of Monte Cristo. I even have a postcard that my old English teacher sent me from Europe that had a picture of one of the buildings that was used in the movie.”

“That's s-s-so cool. Do - do you enjoy classic literature?”

Wholeheartedly, you replied. “Isn't it the best kind?”

“I-I-I don't know,” he softened. “but I don't know what I'd do without them.”

You thought of his home library then, with its eclectic mixture of languages, colors, and topics, and it made you feel warm in your soul. “If your home library tells me anything, it's that you have a healthy appetite for books.”

He glanced at your lips after you said this, but made no attempt to follow whatever thought which might've come to mind. Instead, you two carried on a lengthy discussion on books, how many were a social commentary of the time period, and how they influenced the world you lived in. For once you didn't have to pretend you knew something you didn't, cause you did know. Quite intimately in fact. And within the small spaces between shelves and bodies, where you'd normally feel claustrophobic, you were safe amongst all the friends you had yet to meet amongst the pages, and with Zeta-7 whose warm words and tall body shielded you from the curious eyes of the cashier.

_______________

A stack of books sat quietly in the back seat of his car. Crickets chirped, and there were random feral cats here and there, but there was only you and him as far as you were concerned. September Song by Willie Nelson played on the car radio as he led you into a natural waltz next to the town lake, and moonlight reflected in his eyes. If you hadn't been so afraid of drowning, maybe you would've preferred to dance on the dock, but like this, it felt right.

Oh, it's a long long while

From May to December

But the days grow short

When you reach September

When the autumn weather

Turns leaves to flame

One hasn't got time

For the waiting game

With your head resting on his chest, he hummed along to the melody. More than once you heard a sniffle but assumed it was just Zeta-7 caught up in the moment again.

Oh the days dwindle down

To a precious few. ..

September, November. ..

And these few precious days

I'll spend with you.

These precious days

I'll spend with you.

You thought every day spent with him was precious, and you had to admit that you weren't sure at the beginning of your relationship if it would've worked out, but you were glad that the both of you took a chance, and had been pleasantly surprised ever since. And after all this time, now that it was the fall again, you wondered what the next year and the year after that would be like; the possibilities are endless. However, your train of thought was broken when Zeta-7 stopped dancing and stood there; covering his face, wanting to disappear.

“Rick?”

“I'm - I'm sorry, but I-I-I-I can't do this.”

“Can't do what?”

“I-I-I can't pretend that everything's o-okay. Something's th-the matter isn't it?”

“No there isn't.” you denied.

“Then why are y-y-you so quiet? Are w-we breaking up? Are you - are you leaving me?”

You literally wanted to smack yourself for being such an idiot. “No! Why would you think that?”

Using his phone, he paused the music and passed a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself. “Y-y-you haven't been yourself all evening. I thought for a moment that maybe th-things were alright back in the bookstore, but you - I know y-you were holding back. I know how much you love books, and writing is y-y-y-your passion, but you were hesitant in sharing your opinions on either subject. M-mi corazón,” he pleaded, the lines about his forehead and mouth deepening. “please b-be honest with me. Is this it?”

“No, it's not.”

Your plan, which you thought has been working went horribly wrong. So much for trying to act like an adult for once. Man, you only wanted to entice him, which you somewhat succeeded, but because of your stupid games, you'd led him to believe that you were unsatisfied with your relationship. If anything, you were unsatisfied with how you handled this. “Believe me Ricky, you haven't done anything wrong. In fact,” you sighed, your chest aching from the bloom of anxiety. “you've only been sweet and charming. But I….oh, I was only trying to impress you.”

“Huh? Wh-what?”

“Exactly. Whatever I thought I'd accomplish, it…..I only managed to mess it up. Again. You probably wouldn't get it,” Or maybe he would, but you weren't feeling like yourself. “but sometimes I feel like all you did was pull me out of my little bubble so I could wreak havoc. I'm not any different from hundreds of other versions of me, am I? Cause, if I'm like them, then how did I end up with you? How did I get so lucky to be with someone so wonderful? I hope they are happy because I am with you.”

With a hand pressed over his heart, a single tear made its way down his cheek. “M-me too. I'm so happy with you.”

“Somehow, despite all my inadequacies, you want me. I mean, is it stupid to believe that I just wanted to be different from all those other copies? That I just wanted you to think I was mature?”

Zeta-7 looked at you with a wistful hope in his eyes.“No, it's - it's not stupid. You - you did that f-for me?”

“Who else dear honey man of mine? Maybe it can't be helped and I'll just be what I am,” you confessed. “but for a moment I wanted to be different. So I gave myself the look and didn't overreact. And most of all, kept my mouth shut so you wouldn't get bored of my rambling. I know I talk too much.”

“N-no, that's not - have I led you t-to believe you weren't good enough?”

“Not on purpose, but I can't help but feel that way sometimes. We both know I'm not that special. I mean, the only impressive thing I've ever done is eat 37 pizza rolls, and not kill the flowers you gave me. I'm so sorry,” you cried, “I'm sorry you got stuck with an idiot.”

He pulled you in for a tight embrace, smoothing out your hair. “D-don't ever say that.” he cooed. “You're - you're clever, lovely, and always give me something t-t-to smile about.”

“Anyone can do that.”

Pulling back a little, he gave your shoulder a squeeze and softened. “N-no, not at all. Y-you give away dreams, smiles, and kindness. You're reliable, and I-I can trust you. And there is no one in the universe th-that could compare t-to you when it comes to being the perfect woman. If anything, I'm th-the defect here.”

“No, you're perfect Ricky.”

Placing a lock of hair behind your ear, he continued. “I'm glad y-you think so, but this isn't a-about me. You - you dressed up today, in a-a elegant dress that I'd n-never seen before,” and pressing a kiss behind your ear, he whispered with a little gleam of pride in his eyes.. “wearing the perfume I-I-I made you. Smelling like a-a dream.”

Again, how anyone considered this charmer a doofus you'd never know. “I had been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Everyday with you is - is special.”

“Oh Rick. That's…thank you.”

Pointing at your feet, “And I noticed that you're closer t-t-to my height today, but your feet must be hurting by now. Would y-you like to take them off?”

Oh, your feet were screaming. And now that you weren't pretending, you slipped out of your shoes which made you lose about four inches. Picking up your shoes and shoes and dusting them off, he continued. “That must feel better. I-I-I had to wear heels for a case once. It ugh - it's not practical when y-y-you have to run.”

“Right? I don't see how other women do it, cause I can't. I'm not even sure why I own them. I should just burn those things.”

You'd say it was half relief, half joy that made him laugh wholeheartedly at this, and you didn't see how it could be so funny. You poked him and pouted, and he delighted in this. “See?” he chuckled, looking at you in that funny way he did from time to time.

“See what?”

“This. This is th-the girl I fell in love with,” he stated matter of factly. “the one who likes t-to be comfortable, speaks her mind and prefers those jeans with th-the rip on the side. Not to mention those graphic t-shirts. Or cute pj's.”

Your breath caught a little at this confession. How could the smartest man in the universe adore an impertinent person like you? Maybe the same way you could love the smartest man; you just do. In your girlish voice, you said. “I only wanted you to be proud of me.”

Holding you a fraction tighter, he pressed a light kiss to your temple and chuckled sweetly. “Y-you already do princess. Today y-you made an effort for me, and that's impressive, but honestly, I want you t-t-to be comfortable and dress up how y-you like. You as yourself is what impresses me, because you have s-s-so much spirit, and I - that's what makes y-you gorgeous.”

This time you didn't even try to hide your blush.

“Oh Rick, hearing you say that really does make me feel silly. Why did I do this to myself? What was I thinking?”

“I believe y-you're still trying to figure it all out like the rest of us, and I can't get mad at you for th-that because you're wonderfully human. You had good intentions, and th-that's what counts.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“I al-already have.”

TBC

#doofus rick #doofus rick x reader #rick sanchez x reader #j19z7 #rick j19z7 #rnm fanfic #my writing #my works

[thebuffalohuman-blog]

Stories from my history: 9/20/17: The Sand Pits

So, laying out my entire life, (or at least my most interesting stories) in blog form might take a while. I have many of them. I will avoid doing them chronologically at times. This particular one is the story of how I got myself into deep shit (actually sand) and through persistence, sustained belief in my abilities and some help from my friends, I was able to have a fantastic night that affirmed my self confidence AND extricate myself from a tricky, potentially costly situation.

So, it was about a week before my birthday last year and I had recently met my then-lover, Crunchy. We had hung out a time or two before that and just chatted in my car at the beach (my 1978 Buick Century Station Wagon, Frank)... but this time we had our first real adventure. I’m pretty sure the first part of the adventure consisted of walking around near Longwood Estate and then visiting Gotham Smokes, rolling a blunt and getting extremely stoned in Frank’s front bench seat. At this point, it was starting to get dark and I proposed we go take the Buick into an off the road kind of dirt path that I had discovered nearby when I was in High School. Obviously Captain Crunchy was as adventurous as I, so we took the Buick down that back road and parked it on the edge of the path, about 100 feet down the path alongside the road. We then rolled UP the windows, because the mosqueets were kind of annoying and smoked ANOTHER blunt.

Fast forward a little bit, we got out of the car and walked sky-clad amongst the trails of the Pine Barrens and the fresh feeling of the Early Autumn winds against my stony skin was such an incredible experience and I was tremendously grateful to share the moment with someone else, other than the mosquitoes. Staring into the sky at the clearest stars in the area, we had such a great time sharing space and affection that night. (The Earth was, that night to turn its cycle further into the harvest season and bring us into Mabon.)

So, around 1am, we walked back to the car and Crunchmaster suggested that we go home. Now, for whatever the fuck reason, I thought it was a good idea to put the car into DRIVE instead of reverse and go explore the trails IN A REAR WHEEL DRIVE BUICK. So, obviously as we rounded the first sandy-pit turn, the rear tires dug themselves into the sand and BAM, I was stuck with the first woman who had liked me in any reasonable capacity in a vehicle that I had stupidly dug into the sand pits at 1am.

Now, trying not to panic, we start throwing around ideas on how to deal with it. She had AAA and I had no such thing, so we call that and sit there for about an hour before the guy comes down the road backroad. I see him, hail him and he pulls over and asks me where the car is. I push open the gate and he gives me a look like I’m fucking crazy (which is true, but doesn’t excuse him not doing his job.) I assure him that it’s actually quite a wide path and that his tow could easily fit in it and that the ground is quite well packed until you reach about 500 yards in (or something like that...) He backs his truck through the gate and goes about 50 feet in before he stops the truck, puts it in drive and yells out his window that he’s sorry and that he can’t help me and that he will call his friend, but he’s not sure they can help and that I should just “call the cops”... then without calling his friend, he drives his vehicle continuously out the gate and down the road, far the fuck away from where I was standing, slack-jawed. I didn’t know if he called the cops or his friend or why the hell he just SCATTED. I knew the woods were somewhat of an intense experience (I had seen spirits there before, but nothing too terribly crazy), but I didn’t think a grown man would run away from helping out another in need of his services. Either way, I was stuck.

Now, I walk back to our little “camp in the sand” with the bad news. Crunchy had been asleep in the car, as she had to be up at 5:00 in the morning. I didn’t wake her. It was now 2:30am. Trying to keep panic at bay, I did my best not to worry about the potential fines for both “trespassing” and towing or what my beautiful friend thought of me after this whole ordeal on what was, essentially, our first date. Instead, I focused on solutions. I tried to run the car on some cardboard, on some wood slats I had found, using a tire strapping technique I had learned on youtube, considering if there were “off road” towing companies, like my other friend, QBall had used when he drove his mini-van into the woods and destroyed his entire transmission and front axle... I didn’t think he would answer me at 2am and I couldn’t find an evidence of such a thing existing... so I figured he had probably just “known someone”... then I realized... wait... I know someone.

I called upon my LONGEST STANDING BUT VERY HERMIT-Y FRIENDSHIP, with my friend, Deutsch. Deutsch had a four wheel drive, built as hell jeep with EVERY POSSIBLE survival tool I could imagine. I couldn’t think of a person who was more prepared if shit hit the fan. Conveniently, Deutsch also doesn’t have a normal sleep schedule and is more or less completely nocturnal... so this time, it worked out in my favor. She says she will be there in 45 minutes.

She shows up, Crunchy is still asleep and I am more stoned than before. She puts on a tow strap, tells me to put my car into reverse and drive... she cranks me out of that sand like my car was a ladle out of a cup of soup (YAY WEIRD ANALOGIES)... boom. I am at the top of the hill, tires freed with a wonderful, still running car and a sleepy passenger. I thank Deutsch, give her some cash for her time and am RIGHT THE FUCK OUT OF THERE. I drive Crunchy home or to her car or whatever she wants.. and somehow, she seems completely unphased. Now, I was thinking this was some kind of “calm before the storm” and that somehow I was about to get my ass chewed out the next time we spoke... Obviously this a thing I’d want to talk about right there, rather than let it sit. I ask her how she felt about the whole ordeal.

SHE SAYS TO ME THAT SHE TRUSTED ME MORE AND HAD GREATER RESPECT FOR ME MORE BECAUSE I MANAGED TO GET MYSELF OUT OF THAT SITUATION AND HANDLE IT ON MY OWN. She then kissed me and fell into my arms for a moment before we parted ways.

That night, I drove home in a total fog. I didn’t understand how she appreciated me after the shit that I got us into. I deprived her of many hours of sleep when she works such hard hours. I felt like such a fuck-up, but somehow the glimmer of hope in the situation was her, loving me anyways. The next few months we spent together we transformative for me and her. I have a tremendous amount of respect and love for her soul and our friendship still stands strong, though we are no longer lovers. 

#sticky #situations #love #respect #persistence #woods #crunchy

[fangirl--of-everything]

Drive Safely (Jeff Atkins x Reader)

A/N. JEFF DESERVES BETTER! And because of this, and because I am trash, I rewrote the ending of episode 9 - Clay doesn’t leave, Hannah and Sheri don’t knock over the stop sign, and everyone is safe. I hope you guys like it, and I am more than willing to take requests. Feel free to message me guys. Let’s cry together.

WORD COUNT: 3,420

Alright, enjoy!

The music was blasting, the beer was flowing, and Jessica and Justin were on the verge of procreating on the couch. (Y/n) rolled her eyes at the two sophomores and squeezed through the crowd, balancing the two drinks in her hands as she weaved around the drunk teenagers. She finally made it outside, sucking in a breath of the cooling autumn air and sighing. She was pretty sure Monty had brushed up against her ass. Horny asshole.

She looked around the far less populated, but still crowded, front yard, picking out her boyfriend from the way his poofy hair stood out above everyone else. He was talking to Clay, and as she approached she saw him roll his eyes violently, his whole body swaying with the force of it.

Damn Jensen, she thought with a laugh, you’re gonna break my boyfriend of you and Hannah don’t bang soon.

“Baby, your eyes are gonna get stuck like that.”

Jeff turned, his face changing as he looked at her. He lit up, grinned, and looked her up and down. “Hey babe! Listen, tell Clay he’s being stupid alright?”

She sighed, holding out his drink. “Coke for you, and Clay, you’re being an idiot.”

“I’m leaving.” Clay threw up his hands, exasperated.

“Woah,” (Y/n) lunged forward, catching his arm. Something was obviously wrong, he always played along with her and Jeff, and he was nervous, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “What’s up Clay? You alright?”

“I’m fine.” He shrugged out of her grip. “I just wanna go home alright?”

“Hannah kicked him out of the bedroom.” Jeff said, crossing his arms. “And now Clay’s being a baby and won’t go talk to her about it. Go talk to her Clay.”

“Leave him alone,” She elbowed his side. “If Clay is too afraid to–”

“I’m not afraid!” Clay snapped. He looked between the two of them, mouth moving soundlessly, and he growled, spinning on his heel and charging towards the house. “I know what you two assholes are doing!” He shouted over his shoulder, shoving Zach out of the way as he reentered the house, flashing you both the middle finger.

“Wow.” (Y/n) laughed softly, looking up at Jeff and cradling her Palm Bay in both hands. “He is so whipped.”

“Yup.” Jeff wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. “How’re you doing?”

She tilted her face up, kissing him softly. He smiled against her mouth, teeth catching her bottom lip playfully, and she shivered. But there were too many jocks around to really get into it right now. Damn the jocks. She broke away, taking a sip of her drink to keep from kissing him again. “I’m good. You? Jessica managed to remove her tongue from inside Justin’s mouth long enough to tell me they need more beer, and Sheri’s moving the car so you can get out.”

He nodded, attention a little too focused on her mouth and not enough on what she was saying. She nudged his side and he sighed, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry. Yeah I’m good. There’s no vodka in this right?” He wiggled the red cup.

She shook her head. “You have practice tomorrow, I figured you wouldn’t want to drink anymore.”

He kissed her temple, pulling her harder against his side until she was drowning in the smell of him. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thanks baby.”

“Love you.” She mumbled into his chest. Booze made her sentimental.

“Love you too.” He smiled down at her. “You wanna come?”

She nodded. He slid his hand down her back, giving her ass a quick pat. She smacked his hand, laughing, and he grinned down at her, pulling her towards the car. They settled in, and his hand found her knee, tapping a beat against the side of her leg as he turned on the car and the radio started blasting. He started singing along to some country song that made her roll her eyes, but when he looked at her dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows at her, she was forced to sing along.

“OH AND I’M HIGH ON LOVING YOU, HIGH ON LOVING YOU!” He pointed to her, bobbing his head.

“I’m leaving you.”

“I love you too.” He winked at her as he pulled into the beer store parking lot. “Wait here while I run in?” He asked, getting out of the car.

“No I’ll come.” She reached for her door handle, but Jeff pointed the control at the car and clicked the lock button. The door handle jerked in her hand, but the door stayed closed. “Seriously?” She undid the lock, and he pressed the button again, winking at her. He grabbed the passenger side handle, pressed the button again, and opened the door for her.

“M’lady.” He smiled with a mock-bow.

She rolled her eyes. “You are so lame.”

He leaned forward, pecking her lips. “I love you.”

She sighed, taking his hand as he led her towards the store. “I love you too you big dork.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders again, and her arms slid around his waist as they browsed the store, grabbing a couple six packs and some more coolers. He also grabbed a bag of chips, some candy, and a smoothie that he knew she liked. She kissed him again for that, pressing his back against the freezer. His hands found her ass, her fingers tangled in his hair and played with his earring, and they didn’t stop until he mumbled something about getting frostbite in a place that would stop this from going much further into the sensitive skin of her neck. She laughed, pushing him away and squeezing her legs a little closer together as they walked over to the cash register. He pinched her ass while they waited in line, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back flush against his chest. As punishment, she rolled her hips backwards, grinding them against his front subtly, making him groan. Served him right, trying to tease her. Little asshole.

He payed fast, practically throwing money at the cashier, grabbed (y/n) around the knees, throwing her over his shoulder. She shrieked, laughing and kicking and smacking his back.

“Put me down you idiot!” She laughed. “What the hell Jeff?” She bumped his stomach with her knee, causing him to grunt.

“Ow.”

“Whoops.” She said sarcastically. “Put me down.”

Don’t move so much babe, I’m gonna drop the beer.” He nudged her hip with his chin, shifting the heavy box between his hands.

“Maybe if you put me down I could help carry stuff.” She rolled her eyes at his antics, but she was blushing and enjoying her lovely view of his ass.

“Just enjoy the view babe.” He teased, approaching the car. “Shit you’re heavy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks honey, I love you too.”

He put the beer on top of the car and put her down, barely giving her a second to adjust to the change in gravity before he had her back pressed against the car door, fingers tunneling into her hair as he kissed her. She laughed against his mouth, running her hands over his chest, and then pushed him away gently.

“Baby,” he groaned, bumping his hips gently against hers.

“We can’t,” she shook her head, breathless. “Gotta take the beer back, then check on Clay and Hannah, drive them home, and then we can go home and–” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, mind wandering to why exactly they could do when they got home.

His eyes widened when he saw where her mind was going. “Really?” He asked, voice husky.

She nodded. “But we’ve gotta go fast, before I change my mind.”

“Fuck yes.” He lunged forward, gave her one more rough kiss, and then all but forced her into the car. He grinned as he got into the driver’s seat, right hand settling on her thigh. “I’m gonna get you home so fast your head will spin.” He promised, fingers tapping a beat against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “But after, we’re doing this shit slow.”

She laughed as he jerked the car into gear, peeling out of the parking lot. The tires actually squeaked, and she heard the beer sliding in the back seat.

“Slow down Jeff!” She laughed, grabbing the door handle for support as he took a sharp turn. “You know we have to be alive to–”

Something hit the floor, glass clinking, and she swore, twisting in her seat. Jeff slowed down considerably, both because they were approaching a busier street and because she was undoing her seatbelt.

“What are you doing?”

“The beer’s gonna fall.” She shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it, put your seatbelt on.” He looked down at her as she twisted in the seat, climbing over the plastic space between the two seats to reach the back. “Seriously babe. It’s not safe for you to be doing that. Crap.” He twisted the wheel violently to make the turn onto a backroad as they drew closer to Jessica’s house.

“Shit!” she swore. “Jeff keep your eyes on the road.”

“Maybe if you stayed in your seat you wouldn’t be bumping around back there.” He shot a look at her, getting an eyeful of her jean-clad ass. “Why am I complaining again?” He turned his attention back to the road.

“It’s fine.” She groaned, twisting back into her seat, the box of drinks in her hands. “See? I got it.” She smiled at him.

“So flexible.” He winked at her, slowing down at the intersection. “Come on baby put your seatbelt on.”

“Alright alright,” she nodded, balancing the box of beer onto the dashboard and twisting to put on her seatbelt. “You’re such a mom Jeff you know that?”

“Come on you love it.” He looked at her in the mirror as he sped up again. “But I mean, I prefer being called–”

Everything happened really fast. One second he was making an innuendo, the next another car sped through the intersection, slamming into the back of the car. They fishtailed, cars sliding on the wet asphalt, and (y/n) screamed. Jeff spun the wheel, slamming on the brakes, as the car slid towards the concrete barrier. They both jerked forward, (y/n) slamming into Jeff’s outstretched arm. The beer slid off the dashboard and slammed into (y/n)’s legs. The car slid to a stop, and they both sat there, panting.

Jeff swallowed, looking over at (y/n) who was staring at him with wide eyes. She didn’t seem aware of the sticky beer splashed across her chest, stomach and lap, or the metal can balancing on her knee. Her knuckles were white, wrapped around the armrest of the door, and all the blood had rushed from her face. He lowered his arm, resting his hand on her knee. He tightened his grip on her thigh until his hand stopped shaking.

“A-are you,” Jeff swallowed, “Are you okay?”

She nodded, still looking at him with wide eyes.

“You sure?” He looked down at the beer in her lap. “Babe you’re covered in beer.”

She nodded again. “Baby, did you–” she ran a shaky hand through her hair, “did you just soccer mom me?”

“What?” He laughed, a sharp, nervous bark, but it was enough. They both started breathing again. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the headrest, and he started running his thumb over her thigh, his other hand releasing a death grip he didn’t realize he had on the doorknob. “Holy fuck. Are you okay?”

She blinked, running her hand through her hand again. “I um, no. My legs really fucking hurt.”

“Seriously?” Jeff put the car in park and took off his seatbelt, turning in his seat. “Shit what’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just– oh my god!” She pointed at the window and Jeff jumped, twisting in his seat. His heart skipped a beat when he saw an old man tap on the glass of his window. He swallowed, turning to look at (y/n), who shrugged, eyes like saucers. He turned back to the window, keeping his hand on her leg.

“Um, hi?” He rolled down the window.

“Are you alright?” The old man asked, looking onto the car with a face full of concern. “I’m so sorry! I was on the phone, I wasn’t looking, I- I’m so sorry. Are you two okay?” He leaned forward to get a closer look at (y/n), making Jeff’s grip tighten on her thigh. “Are you okay honey?”

(Y/n) nodded shakily. “Are- are you okay sir?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me sweetheart. Are you sure you two are alright?” The old man was practically shaking as he looked between the two of them, wringing phone between his hands in guilt. He reminded Jeff of his own granddad. “We should call 911.”

Jeff shook his head. His seventeen year old girlfriend was probably still a little buzzed, and he wasn’t sure what his blood alcohol content was. He knew he was okay to drive, and that he hadn’t done anything wrong, but he didn’t want to risk it. “We’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, listen I- I dented the back of your car. I should pay for the damage.” The man reached for his wallet. “I can–”

“That’s okay.” Jeff interrupted, but the man wouldn’t be stopped.

“Give me your home number at least. I’ll get in touch with your parents, we’ll figure this out.”

The man wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Jeff eventually gave in. The two swapped contact information, and Jeff called his parents, explaining what had happened and letting the man talk to them. Jeff turned his attention back to his girlfriend, who was sitting quietly in the passenger seat.

“Are you okay?” He asked, half inside the car, leaning over the driver’s seat to look at her. “You’ve got glass and crap on you.”

“I’m fine.” She nodded.

He couldn’t tear his eyes off the glass littering her lap, the drying beer and streaks of blood from where the glass had cut her up. “Baby–”

“I promise I’m okay.” She nodded again. “My eyes are up here Jeff.” He chuckled softly, more to humour her than anything else, and tore his eyes up to meet hers. They were wide and shiny with nervous tears, and he reached out and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I love you.” He said quietly, trying to put as much meaning as he could into the three words they had been tossing around casually all night. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” She gave him a watery smile, squeezing his hand. “I’m okay. I promise.”

Four hours later, after the cops and ETM had cleared them to go home, and (y/n)’s parents had taken her home to pick up some stuff, she was in his room, lying on his bed. Their parents had allowed them to have a sleepover, the first one they knew about, after what had happened. It wasn’t even a dangerous accident, but everyone was freaked out. (Y/n)’s parents approved of him, and while her dad was obviously not thrilled by the sleepover, all four parents had agreed that the two of them needed this. And while Jeff wanted to convince everyone that he was fine and that nothing was wrong, he wasn’t going to argue with a parent-approved night spent with his girlfriend.

At first (y/n) had stood hesitantly in his doorway, her hands playing nervously with the strap of her duffel bag. “I um, I know we had… other plans for tonight, but,” she sighed.

“Hey,” He laughed softly, getting off the bed and walking over to her, pulling her into a hug with his right arm. His left shoulder was sore from the jerk of his seat belt. “You’re on a crapton of pain killers because of your legs, and I’ve got a sore shoulder, plus, you know, we almost died earlier, so get in my bed and cuddle with me.”

She smiled. “You’re not upset we’re not gonna do anything else?”

“My parents are in the other room with their ears to the door probably, so we weren’t gonna get much done anyway.” He shrugged. When she rolled his eyes and smacked his chest he pulled her tighter against his side and kissed the top of her head. “It’s fine baby. I just wanna hold you.”

“You’re perfect.” She mumbled, looking up at him and smiling. “I love you Jeff.”

He leaned forward and kissed her gently, sliding both arms around her waist and pulling her tight against him, ignoring the twinge of pain through his shoulder. Her hands slid up his stomach, grabbing fistfuls of the loose t-shirt he was wearing and tugging his closer. He felt her shiver against him and pulled away, looking down in concern. Her bottom lip quivered and his eyebrows drew together. “What’s wrong beautiful?”

“I–” Her voice cracked, and tears spilled out of her eyes. She hid her forehead in his chest. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I just, I–” her breath hitched. “I just can’t shake this feeling that something really bad just happened.”

“Why?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her close. “Baby we’re fine. Everything’s okay.”

“I know but– but–” she shuddered, a sob slipping free as she slid her arms around his waist.

Jeff walked backwards, pulling her with him until they reached the bed. He sat down, tugging her into his lap, and wrapped his arms around her waist. She buried her face in the space where his neck met his shoulder and cried.

“We’re okay,” he said quietly, running his fingers up and down her spine. “We’re both fine. My shoulder’s gonna be sore for a couple weeks, and you’re gonna be kinda bruised, and probably not be able to wear shorts for a while, which now that I think about it is actually pretty terrible I take back everything I just said this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to us.”

She laughed, sniffling, and wiped her eyes. “Shut up dummy.”

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. “See? We’re okay.”

She nodded, wiping her eyes. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I just, I can’t imagine losing you.”

“Well you’re not going to, so problem solved.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m not going anywhere okay baby? And I promise I’m gonna drive safer, and I’m never gonna scare you like this any more okay?”

“It wasn’t your fault.” She shook her head, wiggling out of his lap and lying down. She grabbed his snuggle-pillow and wrapped her arms around it. “It was just scary you know? I thought we were gonna hit the concrete, and I could just see it, I could see smoke, and, and blood, and you weren’t moving, and–” her eyes welled up with tears again.

Jeff lay down on his side, propping himself up on his arm. “Come here.”

She moved forward so he could wrap his arm around her waist. “I’m sorry,” she shrugged, sniffling again, “I’m okay, I’ll be fine. I just want you to hold me.”

“Well that I can do.” Jeff smiled softly, laying down on his back. “Oh wait, hang on a second.” She moved back, giving him room to sit up. He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it across the room, then winked at her. She snorted and he wiggled his eyebrows. “How much does this make you feel better?” He asked, flexing his chest and arms.

She laughed softly. “Much better. Thank you baby.”

He lay back down, kissing the tip of her nose, and patted his chest. “Come here to me honey.” He dropped his voice and wiggled his eyebrows again. (Y/n) giggled and rested her head on top of his chest, sliding her hands around his waist and hooking one leg over both of his. He wrapped his arms around her back, one hand reaching up to play with the ends of her hair while the other rubbed soothing circles against her hip. He kissed the top of her head.

“I love you Jeff Atkins.” (Y/n) mumbled sleepily.

He hummed, his chest rumbling. “I love you too beautiful. So much. And I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

#jeff atkins #13 reasons why #13rw #13rw spoilers #jeff atkins x reader #jeff atkins imagine #jeff atkins imagines #jeff x reader #jeff atkins fanfiction #writing #fanfiction #brandon larracuente #13 reasons why fanfiction #13 reasons why imagine #drive safely

[ghost-green-signs]

I was tagged by @galdramani, thanks! 

What is your aesthetic?

Road trips, books, and eerie things. I don’t think there is a name for it but I’m open to ideas. 

What is your favourite halloween costumes you’ve done?

I made a pretty great Wednesday Addams a few years ago. I was a garden gnome one year. I loved my pirate costume because it was appropriately Junior year of college and my accessory was a bottle of Captain Morgan. No plans so far for this year but I have a costume picked out just in case something comes up. 

What is your dream job?

Full time author. Then of course there are the little ones that I think i’d enjoy if money didn’t factor in- Florist, bookstore owner, travel guide.

Who is your current celebrity crush?

I’m a sucker for Oscar Isaac 

What are three movies that make you cry?

Anything if I’m in the right mood. Forest Gump? Fried Green Tomatoes? I cry when I’m too happy also so really this is a sliding scale. 

What is the last book you finished reading?

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman 

What colour eyes do you have?

Blue

Do you dance in the car?

More than I should

Earrings or necklaces?

Both. I wear diamond studs to work almost every day and I used to have a necklace that I never took off. I wore it for about seven years straight.

Favourite drink?

I feel that this is seasonally biased but PSL, Chai latte, or a good coffee. I was a barista and it made me a little bit of a coffee snob.

What is one thing on your bucket list?

Travel the world.

First concert?

Don’t judge me. Lady Antebellum. I went bc my sister had an extra ticket. It stormed and everyone ran for cover. The band decided to play anyway and we went out onto the lawn, climbed up on the rails and listened in the rain. We both caught colds and came home covered in mud but it was so much fun.

What are your favourite lyrics?

Currently “My thoughts of you could heat or cool the room” or I swear I’d burn the city down to show you the light.” Because i am listening to A LOT of Fall Out Boy.

Traditionally thought its “Strange how the night moves/with autumn closing in” from Night Moves or the entirety of When You Were Young.

What is your ideal weekend?

I drive someplace new, all backroads and no traffic. I spend the weekend exploring and maybe get to cuddle up to someone I like a lot and I get to laugh a lot and have deep conversations about things and it leaves me feeling lighter than I started. 

What are three things you couldn’t live without?

Hope, soft blankets, laughing

How would your friends describe you?

Adventurous, occasionally impulsive, conspiratorial, and they misguidedly think I’m funny

a nerd

At work, my icon for everything is a screaming goose and they have dubbed me “anxious goose.” so thats in there too. 

What song will always make you dance?

damn near anything. 

What is your favourite ice cream flavor?

Oh god. Black raspberry chip. I had some kind of salted carmel, chocolate covered pretzel ice cream this weekend though and it was so good. 

I’m tagging @neveronceintoit @buckybabs @limoncinoo @plantboyparrish @euglassiavvatsonia @ourimaginaryrebellion and anyone else who’d like to do this.

[fishdavidson]

Dream Journal 2017-06-15: The Bus Driver and the Ombudsman

Welcome to my dream journal! If you recently stumbled upon my page from Mich Ruby’s “In Your Dreams Podcast,” you may be interested in this companion post that references all the dreams discussed in that episode. Hope you enjoy your stay!

On a whim, I decided to take a trip by bus. The ultimate destination of this trip was unclear, partially because I didn't know where this bus was going and also because I bought a ticket for "the farthest place I could go." The bus arrives, and I board with several strangers. The dream loses cohesiveness a bit at this point and becomes more... mutable than usual. Everything is in flux for a few moments: the bus is alternating between existing as a yellow school bus and a charter tour bus, and the bus was just as likely to fly as it was to drive like a normal bus. Sometimes the bus traveled forward, and sometimes the entire world traveled while the bus stayed in place. We fly through a place that is simultaneously a gleaming city filled with skyscrapers and also rural backroad with nothing on it. We pass a restaurant that is simultaneously my favorite eating place and also a place that I've never seen before. In keeping with the tradition of multiple simultaneous realities superimposed upon each other, this restaurant was named "Fermio's," "Fermat's," "Fernando's," and "Anando's."

The world begins to settle down when a group of four women board the bus. All of the women are from Guatemala, and three of them look to be in their sixties. These three ladies take a seat next to me, and they are pleasant. One of them recently found a dollar on the ground, and they were creating stories about the person who lost the dollar that one of the ladies now held in her hand. 

The remaining woman is in her mid-twenties and wearing a pinstripe button-down shirt. She takes a seat across the aisle from me. Thanks to the omniscient infodumps that happen in dreams, I know that the younger woman was born in Guatemala but moved to the US at an early age and became a naturalized citizen. Because she came to the US at such a young age, she has no discernible accent. Let's call her Desi.

For the first time since the dream started, I am aware of the bus driver. He's a skinny white guy with thick glasses and a thin mustache. If you imagine the character of Kip from Napoleon Dynamite, you'd have a pretty good approximation of what he looked like. The driver is a twitchy fellow, and he has slammed on the brakes and stopped the bus for no apparent reason. He's got a white-knuckle death-grip on the steering wheel and he's staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. There's something troubling going on in his mind, and the driver keeps repeating variations of a phrase similar to "I was supposed to be the ombudsman," or "We need to find an ombudsman."

Everyone is more than a little freaked out by this behavior.

My attention turns toward trying to understand what's going on in his head, and I end up teleported into the driver's mind as he's having a panic attack. He's a young boy in this memory, maybe six or seven years old. Another boy is there with him and they look just alike, though the second boy is maybe a year older. They are standing in the middle of a sun-dappled forest in autumn. Sunlight catches the blonde hair on their heads. Under normal circumstances, this moment would be beautiful. But the boys are terrified of what is about to happen.

The older boy is crouched in a pile of leaves, and he is whispering to the boy who will grow up to be Kip the Bus Driver. "Be my ombudsman!" the older boy whispered. But "ombudsman" is not a word that most children know, and it is certainly not one that Kip knows. Heck, most adults probably don't know what an ombudsman is. An ombudsman is a public advocate who works to address violations of rights. But before Kip can ask for clarification on what that word means, a man steps into view.

The man has has a wooden baseball bat with large nails and barbed wire sticking out of the business end of the bat. He knocks the older boy to the ground and brings the bat down on that kid's skull. Kip runs away deep into the forest, too afraid to look back at what happened but he knows it's bad. Kip keeps running, and he sees the same Desi that just boarded the bus is standing in the forest. 

Unbeknownst to me, Desi had followed me into the bus driver's mind. She thinks she can help, but she can't enter people's minds with the same ease that I can. Young Kip runs to Desi and hugs her. He is safe now. Desi grabs hold of Kip's tiny trembling body like she's about to lift him out of a well and I zip us back to the world of the bus. It was a risky and unplanned bit of compassion, but it let the bus driver emerge from his panic attack. 

Desi and I asked Kip about what we saw, and he told us that the older boy was one of his friends. When they were young, a man kidnapped them both. They were held in captivity for a few days in a distant town, before being driven to a wooded area in an even more distant area. Kip was certain that the man killed his friend, and so Kip ran away out of fear and a desire to go find help. Kip wasn't sure why the man didn't pursue him when he ran away, but Kip thought that the man either didn't think Kip would find his way out of the forest or that the man fancied himself to be too smart to leave anything that could trace the events back to him. But Kip did eventually find a way out of the forest and found a police officer. The police went back to the scene of the crime, and although the found the signs of a struggle, neither the man nor the friend was ever found. 

The case went cold, but Kip never stopped looking for the man who killed his friend. That's why he ended up becoming a bus driver in the first place. Kip pulled out his wallet and showed us a laminated newspaper clipping from more than 30 years ago. It was from an article about the murder/kidnapping, and it had a composite sketch of the man who did it. He was a heavier man with a face that just screamed "child molester!" Kip started driving a bus because it would offer an opportunity to keep looking for the man who destroyed Kip's childhood. And if he could stop other monsters in the meantime, so much the better.

"I am the ombudsman now," Kip told us as he put the newspaper clipping back in his wallet. Kip shifted the bus into gear and put the bus back on the road.

-----------

Image of Kip taken from Napoleon Dynamite

#napoleon dynamite #kip #dream journal #bus driver #fishdavidson #dreams #murder #kidnapping #ombudsman #hof

[hearthouses]

Top five things you like about New England

It’s hard to encapsulate the feeling, but as much as I have a wanderlust and love traveling and exploring, and sometimes I imagine living elsewhere, I feel like heart lies on these rocky shores and in these little towns and the familiarity of my roots being here. I feel like I’ll always come back here wherever I go. 

We have the best autumn around and you can quote me on that. I lived on the west coast and it was so different and strange. Like no one really cared about Halloween? Or Harvest-y things? The leaves really didn’t change??? The weather mostly stayed the same? I just did not Get It. Autumn is my favorite time of year, my power is at my peak in Autumn, I feel refreshed and more capable in autumn, so I just. I need my leaves and my fresh cider and my pumpkins and my state fairs and festivals and people who give a fuck about Halloween. 

There’s no sales tax in my state. I don’t understand states with sales tax. Like I legitimately don’t understand how people live like that. I am shocked whenever I shop out of state and I don’t like that shock. No one even adds it to the price tag, so it’s just always random money being added to your total. How do you all live???

I like our backroads. As much as it’s an inconvenience and like, I get why people prefer having highways–as a person with driving anxiety, backroads are a godsend. Also for the most part, all the routes are scenic and pretty and like. Two lanes so I don’t have to freak out about knowing what lane I need to be in to get where I’m going. 

It’s slow to change and stubborn about its ways and as a person who sucks at accepting change, it’s nice to live in a place that shares my sentiment about change. Though we’re slowly but surely adapting. But like, at a good pace. Though I do miss small things that went away because we got hit hard with the crash of the economy and so many parts of my town are now just. Gone. Which is pretty sad. I really hope the initiatives that are breaking out all around my area to like ~bring back downtown culture will come to my town and kind of energize he community, but we’ll see. 

ASK ME RANDOM SHIT

#zombiescorp #replies!