#it flopped its way into the grass so we assumed it was injured and my dad went outside to look for it but couldn’t find it so hopefully

[sadgirlautumn]

I had such a stressful day so finally getting to lay down in bed feels like heaven

#my doctor’s appointment was insane like we ran through so much stuff that my head was practically spinning and I didn’t even calm down #during my infusion and then of course there was the long car ride home and I napped but once we actually got to my house I saw this thing #on the ground and went to look at it and it was a freaking bat!!!! #it flopped its way into the grass so we assumed it was injured and my dad went outside to look for it but couldn’t find it so hopefully #the bat just flew away??? #idk I’m just so mentally exhausted I can’t even read or play a video game #I’m going to try to read again though because I don’t want to go to sleep this early especially when I can feel myself getting hungry again #autumn rambles

[aellynera]

An Off Day (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

AN OFF DAY

(okay, look. my husband thought he was being funny and said “give me a character and i’ll give you a scenario” and then i snorted laughing and then...well. this happened. set sometime before the events of the movie.)

((shoutout to @anetteaneta for an important bit of info and @tinygaydemonbby​ for the random chat and another key bit.))

Word Count: 2100(ish)

Summary: It’s your day off and you’re just trying to enjoy it. Nathan is working and he’s trying to enjoy it. It doesn’t at all go the way you imagined.

Warnings: Cursing. Banter. Robot sex (not graphic). Personal injury. Innuendo. Propositions. Nudity. Complete and utterly ridiculous trash. Possible typos. Nathan Bateman.

The absolute magnificence of the Alaskan landscape was something that, quite frankly, you were never going to get used to. The trees, tall and majestic, towering over the lush green grass. The river, crisp and pristine, bubbling its way to the immense waterfall that cascaded down the cliff face and eventually made its way into the ever-vast ocean. The bald eagles that would soar from treetop to treetop, even the occasional moose that would make itself known at the edges of the compound and then disappear like ghosts into the forest beyond.

It was otherworldly.

The occasional twig snapped and leaf crunched under your boots as you hiked along your usual trail along the north side of the property. Today’s air felt cool on your cheeks despite the sun overhead; at least it was summer - technically, even if the temperature wasn’t getting much above 60 degrees Fahrenheit these past few weeks - so you had twenty hours of daylight instead of the twenty hours of darkness in winter.

You found your favorite spot on a nearby rock and perched on the smooth surface, tilting your face up to that glorious, shining orb. This really was what you needed right now.

*ding!*

...And that was really what you didn’t need. Definitely not right now, and probably not later either. Speaking of otherworldly.

Your boss was a difficult man, and you had a strange rapport with him that was irritating on a daily professional basis, and to your dismay, increasingly so on a personal level. To be fair, you were the only two humans out here. To also be fair, your boss was kind of annoyingly hot.

You sighed and reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone and glancing at the screen.

God: Where the fuck are you?

God? What the… You were annoyed by the text, but more annoyed by the name. When the hell did that bastard changed his name in your phone? He was insufferable on the best of days, but this was a new low. A new high? You weren’t really sure. Sighing, you shot a text back.

You: It’s my day off.

God: You know that’s not really a thing here right?

You: It is when I need a break from you.

God: I’ll make it up to you.

You: Unless you’re asking me to dinner, I don’t want to hear it.

You groaned. You really didn’t mean to say that.

The little ellipses that showed he was typing back flashed across the screen several times, then stopped. Then popped back up, and stopped again. And just because your boss was your boss, it did it four more times, but still no response.

You shoved your phone back in your jacket pocket and returned your attention to the river, breathing deeply and watching the water swirl around a pile of rocks on the opposite bank.

*ding!*

Dammit.

God: I need you to come back like right now.

You: I’m not gonna sit around and be your Eliza Doolittle today, Nathan.

You weren’t just saying that. Last week, the man had dragged you, literally, into the lab by your elbow and had you repeat vowel sounds and random words extremely phonetically while holding a pulsing orb of glowing blue goo. He claimed it was some kind of brain training. You’d said it wasn’t part of your job description, but honestly, it probably was. You were there to assist, you were there to manage, you were there to occasionally have a satisfyingly intelligent and non-arrogant conversation, and you were mostly there to make sure Nathan Bateman didn’t blow anything up or burn anything down.

That didn’t necessarily mean you liked any of it. Okay, fine, you kind of liked the assisting part and definitely the intelligent conversation part. But it was your day off, and all you wanted to do was not be in the house.

God: What? No, it’s...I just need your help with something.

You: Nathan. It. Is. My. Day. Off. No assistance today. Bother me tomorrow.

God: ...Please?

That gave you pause. Since when did he actually ask for anything politely?

You: Fine. I’m halfway up summit trail, give me like 20.

God: Make it 10.

You:  Asshole.

God: And bring a bag of frozen peas.

What the actual hell.

You blinked at the screen twice, turned your phone off completely, and started back towards the house.

*****

You didn’t know why you paid the slightest bit of attention to Nathan’s request, but once in the house, you found yourself in the kitchen, pulling a bag of frosty legumes out of the freezer. With it in hand, you made your way to the lab.

Nathan hadn’t told you where he was, but you knew where to find him. He was always in the lab.

“Okay, I’m back,” you called out as you pushed through the door to Nathan’s inner sanctum. “Now what is so damn important that…”

“Oh thank fuck,” Nathan’s voice called out. “Do you have the stuff?”

You glanced around suspiciously. You couldn’t see him. Until you came around the side of the long table in the middle of the room and found him. Your eyes widened at the sight of Nathan, curled up on the floor in a fetal position, sweating and vaguely shaking.

And totally naked.

He glanced up as he saw your shoes approached and weakly raised his arm and made a grabby hand. “Gimme.”

Tossing the frozen vegetables to him, your mouth opened and closed several times, trying to process the scene. Before you could really take it all in, you watched as Nathan reached over his shoulder, grabbed his discarded t-shirt, and wrapping the icy bag in the shirt, placed it directly on his crotch.

“All right,” you finally got out, “what the actual hell is going on?!”

“Ohhhhh,” Nathan moaned as the cold compress made contact with his skin. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“Why are you naked?” you yelled at him.

“There was a malfunction,” he replied, nonchalant as if you were simply discussing the weather.

You just gaped at him. This was definitely not in your job description.

“A malfunction,” you repeated.

Nathan made a feeble gesture at the table. It was covered in metal parts and wires, screwdrivers and other things you assumed were robotic but couldn’t recognize. He had been working a new body build for the past few days, that much you knew. But now there were metal bits everywhere and Nathan was bare as the day he was born, sprawled in the middle of the floor. Your eyes scanned the table again; the biggest object, in the middle of the mess, looked sort of like...oh, you did not like where this was going. You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I may have miscalculated the required tension,” Nathan said, still curled up on the floor.

The required...oh hell no.

“Nathan...you know you’re the literally the smartest person I know, and you know I think you’re brilliantly creative and inventive and all that important stuff, but please, please tell me you were not actually doing what I think you were doing,” you muttered.

“I was working!”

“You know I can just check the security footage, right?” you stared him down.

Nathan looked at you over the top of his glasses. “I had to test it and make sure it worked.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Why does a robot have to have working...parts?!” As soon as you asked, you wished you hadn’t. This idiot genius actually had the nerve to blush. Slightly. He would never admit it, but his ears definitely got pinker than they’d been a few seconds ago.

Nathan sat up suddenly and glared at you, adjusting the ice pack again - thank the heavens - to keep himself covered. “First of all, it’s not a robot, it’s an AI. There’s a big difference. And second of all, we talked about this. The point is to make it as human as possible, so this particular part was necessary.”

The glare you shot back at him could have melted his current loincloth. It was your day off and Nathan couldn’t even leave you be for one whole day without his compulsion to cater to whatever whim was in his head and get under your skin. You dropped into one of the lab chairs.

“So...let me get this straight,” you sighed. God help you. But not the God in your cell phone, because he could go fuck himself. Or get fucked. Whichever.

Suddenly, through your haze of utter exasperation, what you’d just thought clicked into place and you snorted a laugh. Your eyes flashed over to the thing in the middle of the table. It was definitely shaped like a pelvis.

Nathan’s eyes became daggers. “What’s so fuckin’ funny?”

Your eyes went to the thing on the table and to his hands, and then back again. You shook your head, cleared your throat, and tried not to laugh again. It didn’t work. “Sorry. Um. So...what you’re saying is...you got injured because you were...fucking a robot pelvis.”

“I should fire you,” Nathan grumbled.

“And you got injured - from fucking a disembodied robot pelvis -”

“I am so going to fire you.”

“...because it was too...tight?”

“I shouldn’t have asked for your help. I should have just let myself die here, naked and unsatisfied.” He flopped back down.

You couldn’t help yourself any longer. Your laughter rang through the lab, a mixture of actual amusement and horrified reality. You snorted again and that made you laugh harder. Nathan had always joked about making a sex robot. Well, you thought he had been joking, but now, clearly not - and he’d hurt himself in the actual process of trying to make sure it worked. You weren’t a monster, you hoped he wasn’t truly actually injured, but you also took a little satisfaction in knowing karma existed.

After a few minutes, you wiped your eyes and looked down at him. Nathan stared back, but you could see the start of a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I told you I miscalculated the tension. It was fine--”

“Until it wasn’t?” you wheezed.

“--until it cut off all the circulation to my dick.”

You bit your lip. “Nathan Bateman. You literally cockblocked yourself.”

He didn’t respond right away. But then he spoke, at the same moment you noticed the smirk on his face fully bloom and what you’d come to call his “up to some bullshit” look glimmer in his eyes.

“Are you gonna come help me or not?”

“Excuse me?” You were fairly certain your eyebrows could not go any farther up your forehead.

“Well, I’m not in excruciating, unimaginable pain now, and I’d like to make sure my dick isn’t going to fall off. And I didn’t finish. Need a little help here.”

“You want me to--” you stuttered.

“Un-cockblock me,” his wolfish smile broke out fully now.

You hurled a pen at his head. “You really are an asshole.”

“I admit,” he continued, easily dodging your projectile, “this wasn’t what I was expecting for the first time you saw me naked, but I’ll work with what I got.” He started to remove the ice pack.

Another pen went flying his way. “You know, I’m just going to pretend that you’re not about to flash me with your mechanically impaired penis, and that you didn’t just proposition me, and I’m leaving this room now,” you said, standing up and shaking your head.

“Baby, you’re just gonna leave me hanging here?” he grinned, stretching back out on the floor. He folded his hands behind his head. The t-shirt wrapped bag of frozen peas remained - now perched rather proudly, you noted - on his groin.

A vexed growl left your lips as you walked towards the lab door. “Leaving now!”

“Well could you at least toss me my pants?”

You glanced down. Nathan’s sweatpants were balled up behind the lab door. How they’d gotten all the way over here...nope. Nope. You decided that information was entirely unnecessary.

You threw his pants at him and they hit him in the face with a satisfying whump.

“You sure I can’t convince you to help me out here?” Nathan asked serenely from under the fabric.

He couldn’t see the small smile on your face as you walked out the door. Thank god. Or...God. Whatever. The man was a menace.

“Ask me to dinner,” you called over your shoulder.

“I’ll text you,” he called back.

God.

~end~

taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @damerondjarin @deeandbobbymcgee @rosemarysbaby13 @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall @itspdameronthings @poedjarin @spider-starry @tinygaydemonbby @writefightandflightclub @woakiees @veuliee2 @yourbucky084​

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#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #fanfic #oscar isaac characters #my writing

[doctors-star]

16 for cowboys??

“Look, I care about you, alright? Quite a bit, I’m afraid.”

Johnny flops on his back, head slightly downhill of his feet in a way which makes the blood in his skull rush and whirl bewilderingly and his eyes pressed closed against the burning-bright sun, as yet undimmed by the afternoon. Someone drops a hat on his stomach and he flinches as though it had been a cannonball, sticking his tongue out and playing at being injured like the hognose snake Will had found in the shade under the general store’s porch - he’d rescued it from being killed as a copperhead, scooped it up in his hat, and brought it round to Ainsel’s back window to show the kids, thoroughly derailing all schooling for the day, as they all crowded around the hat to watch the creature resolutely turn on its back and stick its tongue out in repeatedly feigned death.

He stretches massively on the grass, smiling at the gentle laughter and the feeling of someone sitting near him and reaching across to give him two firm pats on the flank like a well-behaved horse. It’s been a long day, and it started early, but Johnny does like the big drives and hay harvests - all Danser collected together for one purpose, to help their neighbours and be rewarded in turn. Before dawn, he’d been drummed awake by fists on his door and had dressed quickly in the dark to stumble out into the street and go about mustering up others in turn. Of their little gang, he’d been first out of doors, followed by Will - looking bleary but drawn out by the other men staying in the saloon - then Ainsel, who seems to think they might be more use in bed than on horseback every time they see their own horse, then Tommy and Finn looking respectively disgustingly bright and alert, and still mostly asleep. Will, with his extremely biddable broad-chested nearly-a-draught horse, is quickly co-opted into driving one of the carts out of town and along the dusty prairie roads, uphill to the Wilder ranch to deliver tin pails of food and heavy stoneware bottles of drink and the very young and the very old, so that all of Danser may equally participate in the drive. Johnny, Finn, Ainsel and Tommy saddle up and cut north through the prairie, up the steeper side of the hill where the road can’t run; there, Diaz, Wilder, and Wilder’s eldest lad are calling instructions over the heads of the crowd and pointing in disparate directions to where the cows oughtta be, and where the cows oughtta go. A further crowd of skirts and fine hats - for today the town congregates, and it had better be in full finery and Sunday best - has collected around Mrs Wilder and Mrs Diaz to make tea and grits and beans cooked with salt pork in molasses, the scent sticky and inviting on the air even now, with hours of cooking left. Johnny tilts his nose into the air and breathes deeply, shooting a wink at Jody Masham when she passes near and earning a delightfully saucy grin for it. Her ma notices, of course, and gives him the evil eye, but Jody lets her fingers trail down his thigh from hip to knee on the pretense of admiring his horse and looks up at him through her lashes and he could perish on the spot for love of her, so what does he care anyhow.

She passes up chunks of soda bread, steaming in the dawning light and golden with butter, and he tosses them to his fellow riders - dinner will be late today, what with the distance the herd might have gone. And then they’re away, riding nearly the full complement of the town’s horses across the plains to where the herd stands, sedate and well-fed on the last of their summer grazing and ready to be collected up, split once more between Wilder and Diaz, and stowed in smaller paddocks with good solid barns over winter.

There ain’t no point in racing, really. There’s no advantage to getting there ahead of any other person. Johnny grins up at the sky, remembering the wind in his hair, hat brim in his teeth, crouching low over his horse to eke out those crucial inches that keep his horse’s nose ahead of Finn’s as they hoot and holler with the freedom of the run.

“Aww,” Finn says in a tone of very mocking gentleness as he nudges Johnny’s knee with the toe of his boot. Johnny cracks an eye open in preparation to glare at him for the inevitable teasing; against the bright and sunny sky, Finn’s hat is like a halo though his face is dark in the shade. “Didya go too fast today? You ain’t got no endurance, Johnny.”

Johnny allows the glare to settle, but before he can retort, someone on his blind side snorts. “No endurance - how many girlfriends has he got, again?”

Johnny chokes on startled laughter. Finn is wide-eyed in delight as he stares across Johnny’s prone form. “William,” he says, sounding scandalised.

Johnny props himself up on his elbows and sticks his hat back on his head so’s he can watch Will spread his hands defensively. “What,” he says, “I can’t be crude sometimes?”

Finn gestures at his own cheeks. “Naw, sure ya can, only it makes your face go so red that I get worried about ya.”

“That’s just the sunburn,” Tommy says cheerfully, clapping Will on the shoulder hard enough to make him sway and dropping to the grass next to Johnny. As promised, Will’s fair skin is flushed with embarrassment and striped with an angry red across his angular nose and cheekbones, the skin already starting to peel from a day under the sun. He huffs and folds to the floor, knees up to his chest and sleeves shoved up to his elbows to display a bar of red down his forearms too.

“I hope you weren’t teachin’ my kids that kind of joke,” Ainsel says, an enormous black umbrella hooked under forearm and over shoulder to shield them from the sun as they carry a wicker basket in two hands packed with tin pails, bread, biscuits, and bottles over to their little circle. The rest of the town is ranged likewise on the hill overlooking the town and, beyond that, the desert; the horses are tacked out near the farmhouse; the kids themselves are enjoying the freedom and sunshine having been released from hay harvest duties and are tearing up and down the hill, weaving in between groups and only occasionally stopping by their families to grab more food before haring off again.

“I have done no such thing,” Will objects crossly, but Ainsel gives him first choice from the basket and tucks him under the umbrella and out of the sun when they sit beside him so it’s quickly forgiven.

“He was exceeding useful,” Noel pronounces, kneeling by the big enamel dish which represents their share of the molasses and beans and salt pork, and wielding a large spoon like a sword. Johnny gathers that she had appeared some time after dawn, to the disparaging muttering of many of the elder town ladies, but had done so with such a quantity of fine bread and pickles and preserves that her critics had been forced to quiet down to faces of pinched displeasure while Noel held court, knowing that it was not a competition and that she had, regardless, won. She had then gone about supervising the hay harvest, keeping the younger kids in line and occupied while those trusted with scythes cut the hay and Will, on horseback, ran the new hay tedder up and down the field, and then releasing them to stack the hay under her exacting eye. Jody and Peggy had been amongst the scythers and had told Johnny with mouths full of giggles how Will had been left “in charge,” and then done every single thing Noel told him to without complaint or thought of defiance - but the harvest had been done, and Danser is too fond of Will to mock him for being hen-pecked by a woman he hasn’t even married.

Johnny reaches across to ruffle Will’s hair, but he ducks away like a feral cat. “Aww,” he laughs, “you’re useful.”

“Wish the rest of you were,” Will grouses, folding sulkily around his plate.

Tommy catches Johnny’s eye and grins wickedly. He beams in reply; Noel sighs in advance. “It’s true,” Johnny says, assuming a woebegone expression and trying not to snigger when Tommy looks similarly sorry for himself. “We ain’t good for anything whatever. Wholly useless, and you don’t love us.”

Will sniffs, mouth turned down comically in disdain. “You’d be mad to do otherwise,” he tells them sternly, in his finest clipped tones - brought out for special occasions, and their amusement.

“Why, Mister Williams, that don’t reflect very well on me at all,” comes a voice behind Johnny’s left shoulder, light and familiar fingers coming to rest there in accompaniment. Distantly, Johnny is aware of Finn choking on laughter and cornbread, and of Will straightening awkwardly with an air of panic, and of Tommy smirking and kicking at the sole of Johnny’s boot in a teasing, vaguely encouraging fashion - but mostly Johnny is aware of those five delicate points of gentle contact over the ball of his shoulder, and the swishing press of skirts against his side, and how if he tilts his head right back and left he can see all up the willowy line of Jody Masham, hip to hair, her blue eyes and golden curls like a field of cornflowers. There’s a little compressed mischief at Will’s expense tucked into her smile, and Johnny wants to kiss at it until she shares it with him; and there’s a loose, frizzy loop of hair that has escaped from the large bonnet that keeps her pale skin free of the sun, and become darkened with sweat and flyaway in the heat, and Johnny wants to press his nose to it, smooth it between his fingers, tuck it carefully away with pins so that she needn’t mind it - he could do that, he thinks, could give up on all other professions but following Jody around to tidy her hair and carry her basket on one arm, shielding her with a parasol with the other hand.

“Um,” Will says guiltily. “I - well-”

“Don’t you dare say you didn’t mean it,” Ainsel says sternly. Jody is smiling fully now; she is so beautiful Johnny could burst.

“I’m not going to lie to the lady,” Will replies, relaxing out of his tense, guilty stance to be indignant at the idea that he might. She is rubbing little circles into his upper arm with her thumb now: Johnny could not tell you for love nor money what Will just said.

“Well,” Jody says, a laugh bubbling in her voice, “how ‘bout you lend me this young man in recompense an’ we’ll call it quits? I’d like a word.”

Johnny is already scrambling to his feet, pressed up on his toes in eagerness to follow her away. Her hand slides down his arm, shoulder to elbow, and the press of it leaves hot lines in its wake that make him shiver. “Ma’am,” Finn says politely, not without amusement, “you keep him.”

Jody curls her fingers around his elbow joint and guides him gently a ways away from everyone else. Once done, he scoops her hands up in his own and holds them carefully like something immeasurably precious. She smiles indulgently and nods at the basket on her other arm, which he’d barely noticed. “Present for you,” she says.

Johnny juggles her fingers into just one hand, freeing up the other to push aside the flannel cover and fetch out a thin, steaming disk of fried batter. “Johnny-cakes,” he says, delighted.

“Couldn’t resist.” He takes a bite, savouring the salty cornmeal cut through with sticky maple syrup, and grins broadly at Jody. She laughs at his enthusiasm and allows him to feed her the other half without letting her hands go, chasing the syrup from his sticky fingers with her tongue until he can barely breathe.

“So, what’s the word?” he manages, biting the tip of his thumb to keep from kissing her, here where her ma is almost certainly watching.

“The word.” Jody bites her lip, huffs a big breath, and looks away - and a solid feeling of dread settles in his stomach. He’s had it good for so long - with Jody, and Cathy, and even Peggy and Anne-Marie, in a way - and he’s always known it wouldn’t last, and that it would ruin him, and-

“The word is baby,” Jody says eventually, tilting her head to one side and pinning him with her gaze, eyes narrowed in consideration. All thoughts leave Johnny’s head in a moment, to be replaced with vague, foggy panic. “Not-” she squeezes his hand until it relaxes a little and ceases crushing hers, “not right now, Johnny, jesus. Come back.”

The fog recedes and he musters up a gentle pat of her fingers in apology for squashing them in his paw. His hands are so much bigger and stronger than hers, tanned and weatherbeaten where hers are pale and delicate with flour worked into the nailbeds, and he oughtta be more careful with them. With her, and with - with the word, if there is to be one.

He can’t tell how he feels about that, in the moment.

“Sorry,” he says ruefully, offering her a clumsy, lopsided smile. “I weren’t - anyway. You go on.”

Jody takes a deep breath and nods firmly, gaze fixed at some point on his left shoulder. “Alright, I will. Johnny, I’ve spent the day cutting hay with a whole herd of the town’s kids, an’ it’s occurred to me, I want one.”

“I’ll get you one,” Johnny says on instinct, like he does with everything Jody says she wants however unrealistic, from hair ribbons to haywains to the entire Union Pacific Railroad. And then she raises an eyebrow at him, and he remembers how that’s what they’re talking about, actually, and to deflect from this he nods his head at one of the kids pelting past on little chubby legs. “That one’ll do - will he suit ya?”

Jody’s face relaxes into amusement and she huffs, leaning forward to press her forehead into his sternum. He must stink of sweat, and wants to tell her to shift in case he does, but he doesn’t want her to move like he doesn’t want to lose his right arm and she doesn’t seem to care. “Sweetheart,” she says into his shirt, “you ain’t never gonna be friends with my ma if you go about giving her grandchildren by stealin’ em.”

“Not even a little one?” Johnny says, tilting his head to catch her eye and watch her giggle. “‘Sides,” he says, considering it with a slight frown, “not sure she’s over fond on my givin’ her grandkids the other way, neither.”

Jody leans back, smiling. “Only ‘cause we ain’t married,” she corrects brightly, and then falters back into seriousness, biting her lip. Johnny squeezes her hands in careful encouragement, for he feels (fears) they have reached the crux of the matter. “Johnny, I - I wanna have kids. Not today, or tomorrow, or maybe even a year or two yet, but I want ‘em. An’ - I know we’ve not ever been traditional, but my ma - my ma really is gonna disown me if I ain’t married when I have ‘em, so.” She shrugs, fingers tapping in agitation against his palm and her gaze fixed back over his shoulder. “I’m not saying now, but I am sayin’ someday, and if that don’t fit with you someday then - I gotta find someone else. An’ I don’t know how that someday fits with you and Cathy, or Peggy and Anne-Marie, or - or I guess just with you, but I’m sayin’... I don’t mind, I guess, so long as you do right by the kids, and we’re…” She trails off.

“Miss Jody Masham,” Johnny says solemnly, raising her hands between his own, “are you askin’ me to marry you someday?”

She meets his gaze at last, frowning shrewdly at him. “Depends,” she says shortly. “Are you gonna say yes?”

Jody hasn’t never said she loves him. Johnny doesn’t need her to: he knows she does, on account of how she smiles at him and teases him and trounces him at cards to win kisses five nights in seven on lamplit nights where her ma can’t see them. And he bandies about words of love to everyone and everything, enough for the both of them, and they’re well-settled into the kind of long-standing devotion that doesn’t need professing very much. She’s told him before that she’s no good at romancing others (though personally Johnny reckons she’s not bad) ‘cause of how she can’t be sentimental with them; she loves them, and they gotta figure that out, or they ain’t trying hard enough.

Johnny told her he loved her on their second meeting, but then, he’s like that. Always has been. And it doesn’t mean he loves her any less, or any more, than she does him; he’s just got an awful lot of love to share, and she doesn’t mind him sharing it.

He could be married, he thinks. He and Jody could do it, and do it well, and marriage was always waiting for him somewhere - now that he’s not looking at it down the barrel of some angry pa’s shotgun, and without the threat of that too, it looks mighty appealing. They’ll have to get a house, of course; somehow stop renting, and own outright, but how hard can that be? He’ll get her fine printed calico, and build a table for her sewing machine, and Ainsel will school the kids. Finn and Tommy can teach them to ride and make great pets of them, and this time years from now Noel will have them harvesting hay neatly under her stern eye, and Will can bring them hognoses cradled gently in a hat.

He could live in that future, and live long and well.

Johnny pretends to think about it, but lets his grin slip through so’s she knows he’s teasing. “Well, you ain’t hardly romancin’ me.”

She purses her lips against a real smile and uses their hand grip to punch him gently in the chest. “I brought you johnny-cakes, special,” she objects, and he laughs. “Look,” she says firmly, “I - care about you, alright? Quite a bit, actually, and so you’re just - gonna have to deal with that.”

Johnny ducks in close and presses his forehead to hers, beaming. “An’ I love you too,” he croons to make her blush, and then ducks under her bonnet and kisses her softly. He can do that, now - here before the town, on the day of the hay harvest and cattle drive, for they are, someday, to be married.

Jody pulls back, smiling secretly in the corners of her eyes, and strokes a hand through his hair. “I always forget,” she says absently, eyes on her fingers as they comb and tangle in his curls, “how nice your hair is without your hat on.”

Johnny frowns, puts a hand up to his own head. “Where is my hat?”

“It fell off when you leaned back to see me,” Jody supplies. “You didn’t seem to notice.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t remember that.

Jody smiles with resigned amusement. “Lord help me,” she sighs, “for I’m marryin’ a moron.”

Johnny puffs up in indignation. “You don’t have to.” Of course she doesn’t - Jody Masham is the prettiest girl in the county - the west - the world - and could have any man she pleases.

“Naw,” she says, rubbing her thumb along his chin. “I’m gonna.”

#recc'd listening: the game of cards by june tabor and maddy prior #not pictured: johnny returning to the group to ecstatically declare 'we're having a baby!' #noel drops the spoon; tommy chokes; will in a very high-pitched voice says 'what; now??' #no not now and not for a good few years yet y'all are not well-behaved enough #a town called danser #this is your captain speaking

[svtegg]

confluence (SVT apocalypse!au)

♡ wordcount: 2,3k ♡ chapter 2/? (chapter 1 is here!)

♡ rated PG-13: blood, voilence, death, sexual themes

♡ pairing: svt x reader (mostly soonyoung in this part!)

♡ after coming upon at least two men in an abandoned office building and barely escaping through a broken window, I wander the streets looking for water and shelter. Who where those men and why did they need a car battery?

Water. I looked around the small shop, most of the stands knocked over and empty. The floor was sticky as I walked through the aisles, looking for at least something that was useful. And as I worked my way through the store, I spotted a closed wooden door at the back. Probably a staffroom of some kind. My boots squeaked slightly against the sticky floor. Why was it so sticky? I tested my foot against the floor again, a muddy but clear substance covered most of the floor in the back portion of the room, and as I got closer to the wooden colored door I could clearly see that the substance came from that room. A roamer. I unsheathed my knife as I turned the handle of the door and calmly walked into the room. Nothing. As I looked around, only a rotting corpse with a pair of kitchen sears sitting in the part you assumed would be the skull. The room smelled of sulfur and bacteria, and as I lifted the end of my black tank top to cover my nose and mouth I rummaged around the small break room. 

As I hopped out between the broken glass windows and back into the street, with my backpack a little heavier than before I glanced up towards the sky. The sun was almost completely covered by what looked to be a dark cloud. Rain. I guessed it would be around 12 right now, making the sun the hottest so I silently thanked the clouds that where looming on the bright summer sky. As I trekked towards what I thought might be a park to see if I could find some sort of field of grass or soil to dig in I was stopped by what seemed to be smoke. Past some of the ruined tall buildings I could see white thick smoke, meaning whatever fire was burning was hot and burning still. I made my was over to the side of a broken down car, to see if I could spot something else. Nothing. Just the trail of smoke. People. 

I looked back at the way I came, contemplating going back. I vaguely remembered passing a park before arriving at the building where I met the men. Was it worth taking the chance? Going back and maybe being confronted by the men again? I moved closer to the car as a breeze blew by, but I accidentally pressed my injured shoulder to hard into the hot metal and let out a yelp. Fuck. I got up and disappeared into the nearest place to hide. It seemed to be a small old apartment complex, abandoned many years ago. I slipped in through the third door, making a quick tour around the small house to make sure there where no one there. As I dipped my head through the bathroom door, a roamer groaned and turned its rotted head towards me. As if it had become a daily habit of mine, I walked over and drove my knife through the temple of the creature and then pushed it into the bathtub. I sat down on the dusty bed and took in the smell of old fabric and warm boxed in air. It smelled like a little like those caravans that people used to go on holidays in back when the world hadnt gone to shit. A faint memory of my old life came glimpsing through my mind as I let my backpack drop from my left shoulder to the floor. I wiped my forehead, feeling clammy as my body reacted to the temperature inside the small apartment. I looked around noticing a small, narrow window behind what looked like a marron armchair on one of the corners of the room. I slightly forced the window open a little, dust covering the expanse making it hard to make out what was the other side. I stood back up as I took a breath, the fresh air refreshing my lungs as I relaxed a little. My shoulder ached as my chest rose and fell. I sat back down and sighed. I had no idea how to fix this. I had never dislocated anything before, and therefore had no idea how to fix it. It hurt, and I could barely move my entire right hand. Which was not ideal considering that I was currently living in a survival of the fittest world. I started to get some of the food I had looted throughout the day out of my backpack and sat in silence eating. Water. Fuck I was out of water. Shit. I let myself sit for another 10 minutes, enjoying the silence and the feeling of not being extremely hungry. “Alright, let’s find some water.” I mumbled to myself, my voice shaking a bit from the sparse usage. Collecting the rest of the food and throwing it back into the dirty backpack I took one last look around the apartment, snatching an umbrella from the corner by the entrancedoor with me as I walked out. I made my way outside after I secured my backpack back on my left shoulder. Roof. If I camp on the roof, maybe I’ll be able to collect some rainwater. Finding the fire escape took me less than 3 minutes and in a blink of an eye I was sitting on the last step up to the roof, looking around to see if anyone was around. Nothing. I listened for a good 30 minutes, just to be completely sure I wouldn’t get surprised on the roof. Nothing. I waited and waited, my water bottle in hand. It was scraped and looked nothing like it did when I first found it. It was a big thermos looking water bottle with a screw lid and a big mouth. It was turquoise when I found it in a sports store about 3 years ago, now it was scraped, and more silver than blue as the paint had rubbed and chipped off most of the places. I ran my nails against the spots of paint that where left, chipping some of it off as I waited patiently for it to rain. 

As the first few drops of rain hit my skin, I grabbed the umbrella and cut a hole at the very top of it and put it on top of my water bottle. As the rain grew more and more heavy, the umbrella caught the rain and it leaked into the bottle underneath. While I held the umbrella in place, I lifted my face up and let it rain on my face, the comforting smell and sound of fresh rain hitting the dry earth filling my ears. My hair and clothes quickly got soaked and it felt good to finally get some sort of cooling in the hot summer weather. It rained for about 40 minutes, and even though it wasn’t extreme amounts of water collected, I managed to get enough so that I wouldn’t die of thirst in the next day or two which was about how long I managed to wander the ghost town before meeting more trouble.  I made it about two days before I saw the boys from the office building again. This time I was the one who caught them by surprise. 

I was heading into an old vet clinic to look for some sort of pain medication, and when I opened the dirtied glass door that was no longer see-through I came face to face with the boy I had had a stare off with before I dropped 9 ft to the ground, and amazingly managed to walk away with only a slightly aching ankle. He stared wide eyed at me and I stared right back at him, having no idea what to do. We looked at each other for about 5 seconds before my hands moved to draw my knife from my thigh strap. “Wait!” He whispered quickly, hands up in defeat. I looked up at him. He looked nervous, scared almost. “I’m not going to hurt you!” He continued, looking straight into my eyes. My hand was still placed on my thigh, right above my knife. We stared at each other again. The silence ear deafening. “What’s wrong with your shoulder?” His eyes seemed to be searching my face, I continued to stare at him. 

We stood in silence for about a minute before he spoke again, his voice incredibly soft and careful. “I don’t know if you can understand me, but I’m Soonyoung.” I looked at him. “You look horrible. Are you okay?” He tried again, his hands still up in surrender. He was wearing what seemed to be a gray sweater with the arms cut off, dirty jeans with a long rip across the right thigh, some very worn out black vans and a horrible neon orange backpack. He didn’t seem to have any weapons on hand and as my eyes searched him, he spoke again. “Are you okay?” I looked back at him. He spoke in a different language. It wasn’t Korean, the language I had to learn after I moved here probably 15 years ago. It was English. “You understand?” He said again, as he looked at my face with hopeful eyes. I just stared. The broken English he had muttered ringing in my ears, sounding almost unfamiliar as it had been years since the last time I had heard anyone speak it.  

He moved towards me, our eyes still focused on each other. “Soonyoung.” He repeated as he laid a hand on his chest to signalize that this was him, his name. He then gestured toward you with a quizzical look in his eyes. His dark hair flopped into his eyes as he nodded his head. “Y/N…” I staggered out shakily as I looked at him. He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents as he bared his teeth in a wide grin. “Good. Y/N.” He repeated in a low voice, still smiling. As he moved closer, I could smell him, a surprising hint of clean drifted through the air. He smelled a little like mud, dirt but also surprisingly good. Clean. He looked clean. Well, cleaner than me. His hair was greasy but kept. “Okay?” He spoke again, his Korean accent twisting every syllable in an endearing way. My eyes snapped back down to his eyes. He was gesturing to his shoulder. I’m guessing he’s asking if my shoulder is okay. “Hurt.” I whispered, still staring at him. His face flashed in a twinge of something that looked like worry. Then silence took over again. We looked at each other. He scanned me once over and looked back at my eyes, and just he opened his mouth to say something again a rustling sound was heard from down the hall of the clinic, and then a door opening. “Ay, Soonyoung! Find anything useful yet?” The voice hollered. And before anyone had the time to react I once again turned on my heel and bolted as quick as I could down the street mostly on pure reflex. Soonyoung yelling “Hey!” after me as he made his way into the street was the last thing I heard as I turned zig zag around as many corners I could while my heartbeat filled my ears once again. The overgrown green buildings zooming past me as I turned another unfamiliar corner and bumped into a rusted van. The impact sending me straight to the ground with an almost unbearable sear of pain in my already damaged shoulder. I let myself lay on the dry, cracked asphalt for a moment to even out my shaky breaths as the ache boiled inside my body. I spent the next seven days cooped up in what looked like an old nail salon, my shoulder starting to hurt more and more every day. I was running low on food and water and my body was slowly giving up, the pain becoming overwhelming and exhausting. My muscles ached and my right arm was unusable. It hurt just moving. And on the eight day I was sure I was going to die. I had gone five days without food, and almost three without water. The cuts in my hands starting to crack back up because my skin was drying out, and my focus blurring. I had a hard time keeping track of the days, what time it was and where I was. So, I forced myself out. I had to find water. I had to or I was surely going to die. And dying was the absolute last thing on my mind. 

The world was spinning as I made my way down a familiar street. Only a short walk left, I encouraged myself as I staggered along the road. This part of the city was particularly overgrown, the parks full of tall grass and even taller trees. It looked like no one had ever lived here. The paths and benches long gone and all that was left where the rusted metal signs pointing in direction of different hiking destinations. I had to lean against anything I could find to keep from falling under the weight of my own body, my legs wobbling with every step I dared to take. The sun was especially unforgiving today, seeming to be the hottest it had been the entire summer. As I turned left on the next corner, I could see the green park only a couple of steps away. I went in and out of consciousness the last meters to the park, black nothingness leading me to the body of water. As I knelt on the ground beside my destination, I could feel tears in my eyes. The lake I had seen walking past this park over 10 years ago was right in front of me. The green leaves on the many trees surrounding me and the tall grass rustled in the wind, and I could hear birds singing above me. The smell of the water overtook my nostrils along with the familiar scent of grass and soil. As I dipped my hands into the cool water, I felt my warm skin relax. I had no time to think about if the water was safe or not, I just drank. Scooping water in my hands up to my mouth, relishing the feeling of it going down my dry and sore throat. I rubbed my cool wet hands against the burning skin on my face and breathed deeply. The world seemed to spin one last time and then everything went black. I drifted in and out of reality, having no power to wake myself back up. My body had finally collapsed under the fatigue and the heat.

a/n: eyyyyooo! second part! this is a work in progress and i promise it will get better, its pretty slow starting but eventually the intruiges and drama will be introduced! i still havent decided who i should pair reader up with so if anyone has any wishes or suggestions feel free to hit me up! thank you for reading!!!!

#seventeen #svt #pledis svt #svt pledis #seventeen pledis #pledis seventeen #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #kwon hoshi #hoshi imagine #soonyoung imagine #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagine #svt!au #apocalypse!au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #svt angst #svt drabble #svt fanfic

[claroquequiza]

McHanzo Week, Day 3: Downtime || Undercover

McCree falls in a ditch. Hanzo helps him out, and they make a new friend in the meantime.

“Hey, uh, Hanzo? Could I get a little help?”

Hanzo stopped dead on the narrow street, scanning his surroundings before he walked casually to sit on the concrete curb lining the gutter, bending over to hide his face and speak into the comm as he untied and retied the laces on the running shoes he wore over his prosthetic feet.

“Hanzo here. What is you status, McCree?”

The cowboy chuckled ruefully, “Ain’ that serious, Hanzo. I’m, uh, I’ve just fallen into a big ol’ ditch.”

Hanzo frowned. “A ditch?”

“Well, the drainage channel. Got a twisted ankle. I’m just by 6th Street.”

“I am en-route.” Hanzo did not ask for a further explanation, not right then anyway. If there was anything McCree was, it was professional, despite his getup and loud behavior. If the situation was serious, he would not beat around the bush, to borrow a phrase. Hanzo did hurry, however, breaking into a quick jog that was not out of keeping with his runner’s clothes, the long nylon pants and thin long-sleeved shirt disguising his prosthetics and tattoo. He had been doing an initial sweep of the area around the safehouse, familiarizing himself with the layout, just in case. McCree had expressed a desire to do the same right when Hanzo was heading out; he must have done so, but how he managed to fall into the enormous concrete chute that contained the Los Angeles River was anyone’s guess.

He arrived at the high chainlink fence that lined the channel in short order. He spared a quick look around him, but the oppressive heat of the day still clung to the early evening air, and there was nothing in this neighborhood to tempt anyone to endure it. He lightly sprung over the fence and crept to the edge of the enormous, slanted embankment of the channel. He spotted McCree immediately.

He was sitting next to a small pile of driftwood that was thoroughly matted with dried grass and dead branches, one leg stretched out and placed atop a small log he must have purloined from the pile, the other folded awkwardly in a kind of half-crossed legged position.

He had a dog with him.

It was a big dog, at least 20 or 25 kilos, and it had a smooth, yellow-and-white thin coat, perfect for the intense heat, with its tail curled and flopped over its back. It seemed to be inspecting McCree’s outstretched leg; it kept lowering its head to sniff it before pawing at it slightly and looking at McCree’s face, currently hidden from Hanzo by the baseball cap he wore that looked so wrong even from so far away.

“Arenas?” called Hanzo, using McCree’s pseudonym for the mission. “Are you--”

As soon as the dog spotted him, it started barking and yipping, running directly beneath Hanzo before whining and making false starts towards McCree before stopping dead and staring up at him. Hanzo could hear McCree’s pleased chuckles echo slightly off the hard concrete. “Hey there, Sakaguchi. My friend here’s ‘bout to have a heart attack, but he’s real friendly. Come on down.”

Hanzo carefully made his way down the embankment, the surface hot and surprisingly slick. No wonder McCree could not get up it in his condition. When he made it to the bottom, the dog whined and backed off, suddenly shy of the stranger. Hanzo merely nodded at him as he went over to McCree and crouched next to him. He reached out to inspect the injured ankle, finding it swollen and tender, as McCree attested with a hissing intake of breath. Hanzo shook his head. “Of all days not to wear those boots of yours,” he muttered. “They would have contained the swelling better than these.”

McCree laughed. “Yeah, but it’s probably cuz of them that my ankles have gotten so delicate. Rolled out right from under me when I was slidin’ down the wall there.”

“Were you trying to aid the dog?” asked Hanzo, looking over his shoulder. The dog was cautiously approaching, torn between his wariness of the stranger and his apparent concern for McCree. Hanzo knelt and reached out a hand for him to sniff. He tilted his head but came forward readily enough, inspecting Hanzo’s hand before wagging his curly tail and licking it. Fears assuaged, he came forward to sniff and lick at Hanzo’s face as well. He turned his head away to let him lap at his cheek, catching a blinding grin on McCree’s face that he immediately smoothed into a smile instead.

“Ayup, saw the poor guy tryin’ t’get up, but it’s too slick for him. No collar, so I figured nobody was missin’ him, so--”

Hanzo nodded. “I will get you both up, then.” He stood slowly, not wanting to spook the dog. He immediately started whining and pawing at McCree again, prompting a chuckle out of both men, though McCree’s was cut off almost immediately. He was looking up at Hanzo with marked surprise.

“Wouldn’ta marked ya for a dog person, Sakaguchi.”

Hanzo shrugged as he held out an arm for McCree to grasp. “Most do not. They assume I would like cats better.”

McCree groaned as Hanzo easily hoisted him to his feet. “Yep, includin’ me. So, not a cat person then?”

“They are fine creatures. They remind me of the dragons more often than not. However, cats are often aloof to strangers, while dogs are usually more--” he paused as he slung McCree’s arm over his broad shoulders. The dog was literally running circles around them, pausing to sniff concernedly at McCree’s legs as they moved towards the embankment. “--open, with their affections and camaraderie.”

“That they are,” said McCree, smiling at their companion. Hanzo set his foot on the embankment, but McCree hung back. “Actually, why don’ you take him up first? Don’ want him thinkin’ we’re abandonin’ him.”

Hanzo hummed. “Yes, the inability to explain our intentions is often quite distressing for them.” McCree looked at him with a strange expression before he eased himself down to the ground again. The dog took the opportunity to lick at his face, while Hanzo took the opportunity to gather him up in his arms. He stiffened but otherwise allowed it. “I wonder if he truly has no home,” he mused. “He is very friendly and well-behaved.”

McCree shrugged. “An awful lot of street dogs have people lookin’ out for ‘em. We can swing by a vet t’see if he’s chipped, though.” Hanzo nodded as he began making his way up the embankment, stepping carefully to avoid slipping. He made it up with little fanfare, letting the dog down to the ground gently. He circled in place a couple of times, pleased to be up and out, but then he went to the edge and barked down at McCree.

“Don’ worry none, sweetheart,” he called back up to him as Hanzo started down again. “He’s a-comin’ t’get me, don’ you worry.”

It was much more difficult to get McCree out. Hanzo was a solid support, but McCree was a big man, and they had to drop to their knees more than once to keep from sliding back down. Eventually they made it out, and Hanzo had the unenviable task of ferrying first the dog over the fence, throwing him over one shoulder and praying he would not try to scramble off at the wrong moment as he went up and over, and then perching on top of it as he more or less heaved McCree up and lowered him down to avoid jostling his ankle too much. But soon they were hobbling back to the safehouse, the dog leading by a few paces as he sniffed at random spots on the sidewalk. McCree watched him with a soft look.

“We should work him into the mission, somehow,” he murmured, as if he did not realize he was speaking.

Hanzo glanced at him, feeling his cheeks heat a little from the exertion of carrying McCree’s weight, but also from being so close to his face with his arm over his shoulders. “Pardon?”

“Y’know, since we’re gonna be here a while. He could be our pet that we’re takin’ for walks when we do our perimeter checks.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “And if we find ourselves in battle? If we take him in, we are responsible for him, and we cannot guarantee his safety. We should check if he has a chip, and take him to a shelter if he does not.”

McCree made a small noise. “Never liked shelters. No guarantee that someone will take him before--”

“There are no-kill shelters,” said Hanzo gently.

“Yeah, that’s true. But, we won’ be invitin’ trouble except when we’re actively bein’ guard dogs for that producer, y’know? He’d be safe enough with us in our downtime. Could be a great morale booster while we’re here, and then we could take him to the no-kill shelter before we go.”

Hanzo snorted. “After we have bonded with him. After he ingratiates himself to us more than he already has. Do you think Kim Hyun-ji will let him go after she meets him?” Until now, he would have expected Hana to be the biggest obstacle to letting a team pet go when a mission was over. Now he suspected it was already too late. McCree was silent, watching the dog wistfully.

Hanzo sighed. It really was too late. It was too late when McCree called on Hanzo to help, really. He was a dog person, after all.

“Keep in mind that we must still check for a chip, but if you wish to retain naming privileges, you should think of one before the rest see him.”

McCree’s eyes snapped to Hanzo’s. He stared for a few seconds, as if waiting for Hanzo to take back his words. Hanzo looked steadily back. A grin slowly spread over McCree’s lips. “Aw, darlin’.”

Hanzo jerked his gaze straight ahead at the pet name, but he could still see McCree beaming out of the corner of his eye. He searched desperately for something to say to ward off the warm feeling in his chest at the sight. “I passed a park before you called. If we have any more downtime, it might be a good place to take him for exercise.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said McCree cheerfully. “Lemme see here, a name, a name--Sage, maybe? Hmm.” McCree returned to watching the dog, murmuring under his breath as they continued down the sidewalk. Hanzo, for his part, watched McCree, the warmth in his chest continuing to rise. He was caught off-guard when McCree turned back to him and said, “Actually, what d’you think? You’re the one who rescued him. Rescued both of us, I might add.”

Hanzo flushed and looked away. “It was no trouble. You were the one who found him.”

“Yeah, and then I promptly fell on my ass,” laughed McCree. “Besides, you’ve been a good sport about it all. I was expectin’ a scoldin’.”

Hanzo looked back at him. “You were doing a good deed, and your injury was completely accidental. There was no need for censure.”

McCree grinned. “C’mon. What d’you think’d suit him?”

Hanzo considered. “Jiro.”

“Jiro,” McCree repeated. “Jiro. Here, Jiro! C’mon, Jiro! What d’you got in your mouth, Jiro? Y’know, I like it.”

Hanzo chuckled. “It will do for now. If another name suits him better, we can change it before he gets used to it.”

“Hey, Jiro!” McCree called out. The dog paused at the loud shout, looking back at McCree. When McCree smiled and beckoned, he wagged his tail and came trotting back, tongue lolling out in the heat. “Well there you go, he likes it, too.”

Hanzo shook his head, but he could not help smiling either.

#mchanzo week 2017 #mchanzo #my fics #today's excerpt #I found the name from the tale of Taro and Jiro #it's a fascinating story of survival in Antarctica

[astridspokemonfic]

Episode 4: An Electrifying Encounter!

Narrator: After Astrid’s success in the Rocens City Contest, the group has decided to hit the road yet again! Our trainers are on their way to Mistdrive City where Janine and Kaytlyn will hopefully get their first gym badge. Today, Janine trains for her upcoming Gym Battle!

“Alright, Pollo! Try it again!” The Torchic nodded and began to gather fire into a ball. “Almost there!” Suddenly the ball of fire burst in Pollo’s face in a small explosion, leaving its beak charred along with its trainer. Janine sighed and took the towel off her shoulder and began to carefully wipe the soot off her Pokemon’s face.

“It’s okay, Pollo. We’ll get it next time…” Janine said. The Pokemon gave a sad chirp and nuzzled into her chest. “Let’s get some food, okay?”

Janine returned to their makeshift camp where Kayla was frantically trying to flip over slices of bread while Astrid yelled at her. Kaytlyn was watching the entire thing with an exasperated look on her face. Their Pokemon were sitting nearby, half-asleep. Kaytlyn looked up from the makeshift cooking show in front of her when she noticed Janine approaching.

“Hey! How’d it go?�� She asked.

“We’ve almost got the hang of it. If Pollo can let out strong enough fire, it might be enough to help with the type-difference.”

“What do you mean?” Kayla asked, only to get smacked by Astrid. “What?!”

“You’ll burn it again.” Astrid said, strictly. She turned to her Vulpix. “Again, please.” Vulpix gave her a weary look and carefully blew more flames to the fire beneath the pan.

“Well, I want Pollo to make a strong enough fire to evaporate any water attacks.”

“Have you considered dodging the attacks?” Kaytlyn asked sarcastically. Janine gave her a scathing look.

“Yes, I have. It’s just that if she can’t I want to know that she can deflect them at the very least.” Janine let down her Torchic so it could run off with the other Pokemon. “Our first Gym Battle and there’s already a type disadvantage.” She let out a ‘tsk” sound.

“It’s okay, Janine. We’ll help Pollo train!” Kaytlyn said.

“How? None of us have any Water-Type pokemon.” She pointed out. “Actually, thinking about it,  we only have Fire-Types and Grass-Types...”

“We’ll… improvise, I guess.” Kaytlyn muttered

“Kayla you burned the toast!”

“Sorry!”

~*~*~*~*~

“Okay, ready Pollo?” The Chick- Pokemon let out a chirp. “Okay, let’s go!”

The duo stood close-by to the stream surrounded by trees and brush, while Astrid and Kaytlyn rolled their pants up to their knees and waded into the water. Astrid ran her hand through the water towards the Torchic.

“Ember!” Pollo released small bursts of flame at the oncoming droplets, somewhat evaporating it, however, a large part of the water ended up on Torchic, who let out unhappy noises. Kayla sat nearby in the shade of the trees with everyone’s Pokemon, making sure to keep Charmander away from the water.

“Yikes,” Astrid said. “Uh, Janine how about you try the move you were teaching Torchic earlier?”

“Okay.” Janine nodded. “Pollo! Use Flame Burst!” The Torchic took a deep breath and began to form a ball of fire in front of its’ face. Astrid and Kaytlyn both gathered water into their hands, ready to throw a wave of water at the Pokemon. “Come on! A little more!” Janine encouraged. The small fire type closed its eyes in effort and let the fireball grow a little more before letting it go.

“Now!” Astrid yelled and they both sent as much water as possible in the Pokemon’s direction. The Fireball went straight through, and the two teens fell back trying to avoid it. The Flame Burst exploded in the stream nearby, completely evaporating the water for a moment.

“You did it Pollo!” Janine picked up the Pokemon and hugged it tightly as it chirruped.

“How about you work on aim…?” Astrid said, crawling out of the water, soaking wet. Kaytlyn pushed herself up, her previously straight hair beginning to turn wavy from the water. She nodded in agreement.

“Wait. I heard something.” Janine said, pausing.

“Ugh, you with your hearing…” Kaytlyn groaned and flopped onto her back, letting the water drip back onto the grass. Kayla shushed her.

“Shut up, I hear something too.” Kayla hissed. Astrid and Kaytlyn paused, unable to hear anything besides the rushing of the stream. Then, very faintly, they heard a pained Pokemon cry.

“Janine. Doesn’t flame burst cause ‘splash damage’?” Astrid looked up at her friend with worry.

Janine immediately rushed towards the sound, Kaytlyn following her closely. She stopped at a bush that was near the spot in the stream where Pollo’s Flame Burst exploded.

“Oh no.” Janine murmured, catching sight of an injured Pokemon. The Pokemon was laying on the ground and Janine could see it’s injured leg clearly. She reached out to touch it and was subsequently whacked in the head.

“Don’t be stupid! It’s wild and injured, it could seriously hurt you.” Kaytlyn hissed. Janine looked back at it.

“Well, I can’t just leave it alone. Especially since it could be my fault.” She said. Janine slowly crawled over to the Pokemon, looking for any serious injuries before carefully gathering the dirty fluffball. “Ow!” Janine felt a sudden sting in her arms and Kaytlyn moved to reach out for her. Janine shook her head, but the other reached out anyway, making contact with her upper arm.

“Ah!” Kaytlyn pulled away suddenly. “Static.” Janine looked at the Pokemon she had dubbed ‘Fluff-Ball’ in her head.

“It must be an electric type.” Now that Janine got a closer look, she noticed the Pokemon actually did have a face and horns, though they were mostly covered. And it had more wounds on its body than she had previously thought. Janine carefully walked back as to not jostle any of the injuries. At their makeshift training area, Kayla and Astrid were talking animatedly. She could hear a bit of their conversation as she got closer.

“...Flame Burst is that kind of move. It causes damage not only to the target but also adjacent objects and Pokemon. That’s what ‘splash damage’ means.” Astrid explained. Kayla nodded and the duo looked up to see Janine approaching.

“Woah is that a Mareep?” Kayla asked. “It’s so dirty.”

Astrid took out her Pokedex and scanned the Fluff-Ball in Janine’s arms.

“Mareep, The Wool Pokemon. If static electricity builds in its body, its fleece doubles in volume. Touching it will shock you.” The Pokedex recited.

“Huh. It looks dirtier than in the picture.”Kayla pointed out. “It’s wool is way longer too.”

“How did you know it was a Mareep?” Kaytlyn asked.

“Because I read.” She retorted. 

“I think it was injured before it ever got hit by Pollo’s flame burst. The splash damage shouldn’t have hurt it that much, but I think its health was already low.” She slowly sat down, crossing her legs, and depositing Mareep onto her lap. “Kayla, come over here with my bag.”

The twin complied and sat down.“Uh, open the Berry Bag, I need an Oran Berry.” Kayla rummaged for a bit before placing one in Janine’s waiting hand. “Can you get some Potions and bandages?” Kayla nodded while Janine proceeded to coax the Mareep into eating.

“Come on, at least one bite?” Janine held the Oran Berry in front of Mareep’s face until the Pokemon finally took a reluctant bite. Then another. Then another. Janine had Chikorita hold it while she reached for the medical supplies. Mareep flinched for a moment when Chikorita’s vines replaced Janine’s hand but eventually relaxed when Chikorita maintained her friendly atmosphere.

Janine carefully began to tend to all visible wounds, cleaning and disinfecting them before wrapping them up in bandages. Janine finally got to a fresh minor burn on Mareep’s tail and winced.

“You got hit pretty badly huh…?” Janine whispered to the Mareep. Chikorita had long since left after Mareep had finished it’s berry. Pollo came running over and began what Janine assumed was apologizing. The Mareep let out a soft bleat and allowed the Torchic to nuzzle her. The calm and quiet atmosphere had prompted everyone into relaxing for the time being. Astrid was going over her map, Kayla was resting on her back with Rowlet on her stomach, and Kaytlyn was throwing pebbles in the stream. By the time Janine was done, the sun had already begun to set.

“There. All done.” Janine let Mareep crawl off her lap and sit near the other Pokemon. Surprisingly, Mareep wasn’t very scared of the other Pokemon, and now without its injuries, it was interacting more with the others.

“What are we going to do with Mareep?” Astrid approached the other teen.

“Well what happened was my fault, so I should take responsibility. We can’t let Mareep back into the wild since she still has injuries. There’s no way of telling if she’s at full strength yet.” Janine said. Kaytlyn hummed in agreement. Astrid nodded and turned to Kayla.

“Let’s set up camp. Kaytlyn, go get firewood, Kayla, help me set up the tents.” Astrid ordered. The twins, seeing it better not to argue, simply rolled their eyes and obeyed. Kaytlyn took her Charmander along with her, while Kayla received help from Rowlet on how to set up a tent. Janine nodded to herself and stood up, deciding to help her friends in setup.

~*~*~*~*~

It wasn’t until everyone was already eating dinner that the thought had occurred to her.

They were eating food that was supposedly safe (”I promise I didn’t poison the food.” Astrid deadpanned) while Janine was scrolling through her Pokedex.

“Don’t Mareep usually live in herds?” Janine asked. Her companions looked up from their food to stare at her. Kayla spoke up after a moment.

“I mean usually they’re from ranches, so they have a whole flock living with them. Maybe this one was just on its own.” She said.

“The map doesn’t have a ranch on it. At least not anywhere near here.” Astrid said, having looked through the map earlier.

“How did you get here then?” Janine posed the question to the Mareep as it relaxed close to the fire. The Mareep in question looked up and bleated a bit before closing its eyes again.

Janine sighed lightly and returned to her meal, deep in thought. Eventually, it was time for bed, and after Kaytlyn had put out the fire with an empty pot everyone went to their tents for the night. Janine had begun to step in when she realized that Mareep wasn’t following her.

“You wanna come in?” She asked, opening the flap invitingly. Pollo hopped in to show her that it was safe, but Mareep refused to go in all together. Janine eventually sighed and entered the tent herself, leaving the sheep pokemon outside.

She returned a few minutes later in her pyjamas with her sleeping bag, a pillow, and a lamp. The Mareep gave her a confused look and Janine gave a small chuckle. “You didn’t think I was gonna leave you outside alone, right?” The teen settled into her sleeping bag, but unzipped it, leaving it open for Pollo to snuggle in next to her. Mareep took about three seconds before deciding to snuggle up next to both her and the Fire-Type, clearly willing to sacrifice solitary for warmth.

“It’s surprisingly nice out here. Woah, I can see all the stars!” Janine exclaimed, looking up between tree branches.

“Can yoU SHUT UP?!” Kayla yelled from inside her tent. Janine laughed nervously.

“I forgot she’s a light sleeper,” Janine muttered while full-on cackles were emanating from Astrid’s tent.

Kaytlyn left her tent first, saying that her insomnia was making it difficult to sleep at all. Charmander sat close by.

Kayla followed, complaining that it was too cold in the tent.

Astrid was next, pouting about how unfair it was that they left her out of such a fun activity. Both her Pokemon were zipped up in her sleeping bag with her.

“Look at us, we’re a bunch of idiots sleeping outside when there are three perfectly good tents over there,” Astrid said, the smile on her face betraying her sarcasm. Meanwhile, Kaytlyn had re-lit the fire, allowing everyone to feel warm as they lied down around it.

“When I decided on a Pokemon Journey, this is exactly the kind of experience I was looking for,” Janine said wistfully. “I always wanted to camp under the stars with my Pokemon.”

“I felt like that when I first set foot in the Contest Hall a couple days ago! It was so cool!” Astrid mentioned.

“I haven’t felt like that yet,” Kaytlyn muttered with a tinge of sadness. Kayla mumbled an agreement and Astrid twisted herself around to look at them.

“It’s okay,” Astrid reached out to grab Kaytlyn’s upper arm. “We just started our journey. We still have more experiences heading our way.” With that, the group fell to silence. The calm of the fire and the night sky began to lull them to sleep. Astrid was already beginning to yawn, while Kayla seemed close to conking out. Janine could feel her eyelids grow heavy and even Kaytlyn’s head began to nod. Janine let her hand reach out for Mareep in a comforting pat before she began to hug Pollo close to her chest as darkness enveloped her senses.

~*~*~*~*~

When she woke up, Mareep was gone.

The sun hadn’t even risen yet, and her comrades were still fast asleep in their sleeping bags. Janine stood up and stretched for a moment as she wiped the sleep out of her eyes. Pollo joined her for a moment before realizing that Mareep had seemingly disappeared.

“What?!” Janine rushed to put on her shoes and jacket. Her resounding yell had forced her friends awake.

“It’s like, 5 in the morning! Let me sleep..!” Astrid whined and rolled over so that her face was in her pillow. Kayla groaned in agreement.

“Mareep is gone!” At this, her friends perked up with looks of alarm.

“Isn’t Mareep injured?” Kayla asked, scrambling for her glasses.

“That’s the problem!” Astrid retorted, deciding to just put her boots on rather than change out of her pyjamas.

“Okay, Kayla, stay here in case Mareep comes back. Astrid, Kaytlyn, let’s split up and look for her.” Janine said, grabbing her bag. “Text me if you find any clues.” With that, the group split up, Janine heading to the fields near the route, hoping to find the Electric-Type.

“Mareep!” Janine yelled out. Pollo was calling out too, hoping to hear the other Pokemon respond. There was a loud and pained cry. Janine ran towards it with a sudden sense of deja vu. Unsurprisingly it was Mareep, who was running towards her with shining eyes.

“Mareep, you’re ok!” Janine held her arms out wide and let the Sheep Pokemon run into her arms. She nuzzled it without restraint, unaware of her hair beginning to float from the static. She shot a quick text to her friends when a growl caught her attention.

A pack of angry Mightyena was staring her down. The one at the front had a scar on its eye, and Janine assumed it was the leader of the pack. A thought struck her.

“Is this why you were so injured when we found you?” Janine asked. A Mightyena barked at her. She narrowed her eyes in annoyance but began to back up nonetheless. She was far outnumbered by the wild Pokemon, and so far, fighting seemed to be the best option.

“Alright, Pollo. You ready?” Janine asked. The Fire-Type chirped in determination. “Keep your eyes open this time okay? Pollo! Use Flame Burst!”

The Torchic opened its’ mouth and gathered up as much flame as possible and let it form a ball. “Throw it, now!” Pollo released the fireball with his eyes open this time and watched it hit one of the Mightyena. The Fireball exploded on impact, releasing more wisps of fire that hit the surrounding Pokemon. The Mightyena in the front went running back while the others were still growling at her. 

Mareep wriggled out of Janine’s arms and stared down the leader. The Mareep suddenly let out a cry and sent bolts of electricity at the other Pokemon, completely electrocuting most of the Pokemon in the group. The pack went running, whimpering the whole time as they followed their leader.

“Janine! There you are- oh Arceus.” Janine vaguely heard Astrid’s voice from behind her. “What did you do?”

“Pollo used Flame Burst properly!” Janine said, giving a lame explanation.

“Your hair is a mess.” Kaytlyn laughed. “I’m heading back to camp.”

“Ah! Me too! I wanna sleep some more.”

“The sun’s already rising, you idiot!” Janine looked up at the sky and noticed that the previously dark sky was fading to be bright clear blue. She knelt down in front of the Electric-Type.

“Mareep, I don’t think they’ll be bothering you anymore.” The Mareep gave a happy bleat. Janine smiled and ruffled its’ coat, giving it a wide smile. “Be careful okay?” Janine turned only to feel tugging at her pants.

“What’s wrong?” Mareep continued to tug until Janine crouched down again. “Mareep what are you-” The Pokemon pulled at Janine’s bag until the trainer eventually just let the bag down, allowing Mareep to rummage through it. Pollo chirped in confusion. Eventually, a Pokeball rolled out and the Electric-Type stopped its rummaging. “Do you...want to stay with me?” It nodded with excitement. Janine picked up the ball and softly tapped it against Mareep’s nose. The Pokemon disappeared in red light. One blink. Two Blinks. Three Blinks. The resounding click let Janine know that Mareep had really chosen to stay.

~*~*~*~*~

At camp, Astrid was helping Kaytlyn pack up what was left of their tents while Kayla cleaned up any trash.

“Where’s Mareep?” Kayla asked. Janine held the Pokeball out with a smile on her face. “You caught it?”

“Sort of? More like we came to a mutual agreement to travel together.” She shrugged.

“Hey wait! Mareep’s an Electric-Type! That’ll be perfect for your Gym Battle!” Astrid said. “That lined up so well…” She muttered.

“What moves does it know?” Kaytlyn asked, shoving a pack into her backpack. Janine pulled out her Pokedex and scanned the Pokeball. “Uh, Discharge, Thunder Wave, Take Down, and Charge.”

Astrid slung an arm over Janine and looked over her shoulder.

“Oo, when it reaches its final evolution, it learns Thunder Punch!” Astrid said, pointing at a picture of an Ampharos. Kayla came over and scrutinized the photo.

“That doesn’t make sense: It doesn’t have hands,” Kayla said, scrunching up her eyebrows in confusion. “Ampharos doesn’t have hands; it can’t punch!” Astrid patted her back while Janine stared at the name.

“I’m naming it Arroz,” Janine said with finality. Kaytlyn looked at her,

“You can’t keep naming your Pokemon after food,” Kaytlyn muttered.

“Pfft are there rules?” Janine asked smugly. “I’m naming her Arroz and she and Pollo will help me beat the Mistdrive Gym.” A shriek forced them out of their conversation.

“Kayla! You are banned from ever making our food again!”

“It’s one piece of toast-”

“It was several pieces of toast!”  

Janine laughed at Astrid’s frustration while Kaytlyn decided to put Kayla out of her misery and take over for cooking. Janine walked over to her neatly folded pile of clothes and placed Arroz’s Pokeball on her red belt, enjoying the shine that glinted off of it.

[observationsofanislandgirl-blog]

In the midst of winter

It’s far from summer here in the valley today. A gentle, steady rain is falling outside and we’re all wrapped in winter jumpers. It’s dark as late afternoon although it’s only two o’clock. 

a couple of nights ago, I heard a car hit something outside. The car’s occupants promptly turned around and stopped to have a look, but after that came silence. The next day I saw a little wallaby in our garden, obviously injured around its back legs and alternating between hopping and dragging itself along the grass. Today, it was in our garden again, but closer to the house, lying semi beneath one of the rhododendron bushes and in a heartbreaking state. It had completely lost the use of its back legs and could only drag itself a tiny distance before flopping back down in exhaustion. Even worse, evil blowflies had already begun to attack it while it was still alive. We asked one of our neighbours for help and he fired a bullet through its head to end its suffering. We stood there for a minute, waiting for it to stop twitching, and then it was unceremonially heaved over the steep bank where our properties join. The house was filled with blowflies.

I dreamt I gave birth to a dead fish. Mum looked at it and said it was sickly, or infected, or some words along those lines. It had a horrible face with lifeless, half-closed eyes and it was about the length of my hand. I felt violated and scared and was still uneasy when I woke up. 

I have a lot of chores to do, and I’m getting through them slowly. Although I’m not tired anymore, motivation refuses to lend a hand and I feel like I’m doing everything in slow motion. We went for a quick visit to the local cider house last night, and then for a brief drive down to Cygnet to have a look at the folk festival. It was stunning along the river, still and glassy, as the light faded for the night. The festival itself wasn’t in full swing yet and an ominous mood lingered in the half-light as people scampered around and a surprising number of police patrolled. A few marquees and vans were set up, but a feeling of darkness and deadness hung in the air.

I’m cleaning up and cleaning out a lot of stuff. In boxes and nooks and crannies I find little trinkets and mementos of times gone by. Some friendships are still strong; I look at a pair of earrings one friend gave me for my birthday, which I wear whenever I feel like I need a bit of her strength with me. There’s a card that was given to me by another friend on New Year’s a while back, and it’s nothing special in itself but it reminds me of her smart, kind presence. Then there are gifts from friendships that have drifted, dissolved or shattered, and I can’t help but flood with mixed emotions when I see them. After months or even years of closeness, one day you suddenly realise that you’ve grown so distant that it’s like watching a ship disappear on the horizon, and you only recognise that little spot as what it is because you knew it close up. Even more hurtful are the memories of “I’ll always love you” “You’re my best friend” or “No matter what, I’ll always be there for you” that ultimately turn into nothing, sometimes with frightening swiftness. I’m proud of my current group of friends. They keep me sane and I treasure them and hope I can help them in any way, whatever happens in their lives. It doesn’t stop the pain that flares up when I’m reminded of those dead friendships, how one person who used to be your world is suddenly like a ghost. Although it’s hard, I’ve slowly started throwing out old objects that no longer hold any relevance, and hope that on some weird psychic level it is beneficial. It’s painful because it’s like casting aside the last remnants of my childhood. I falter when I come across some things from a friend who used to be my partner in crime in pretty much everything. She was always the younger, dominant one and I was always the older, placid one. We were performers who both loved the stage, and performed quite a bit together. We joked that we’d make a good Jekyll and Hyde. Later on, her constant need to be the star of the show got on my nerves, amongst other things, and her ego blew up as she grew into a 5″8, size 6, model-perfect physique and started to attract the attention of boys. She moved to the other end of the state for uni and we more or less disappeared in one another’s lives. She developed a nasty alcohol habit which contributed to a panic disorder that had been simmering beneath the surface for years. She gained twenty kilos and for the first time in her life understood the dysphoria that myself and the rest of our peers experienced years before. Her dreams of being an actor and a model slowly dissolved as real life hit her the way it hits us all, and I’ve got the feeling that she’s a gentler, humbler soul than she was when we drifted apart. At the same time, I’ve no motivation to get back in touch. I just want her to succeed, and be happy, and healthy, and never lose that streak of craziness that I fell in love with right at the start.

Digging even further into the past, I find a little bracelet that I was sure I’d thrown out long ago. It was the first week of uni and I ended up standing in a circle with a bunch of semi-familiar faces that I’d seen at law camp the week before. One was a boy with an odd accent and a ready laugh. Very quickly, we discovered that we both had a Filipino mum and there was a high-five and a few rapid words of poorly-pronounced Tagalog. We were only born a couple of weeks apart and we both were obsessed with Ancient Egypt. I was stoked. I loved his bear-like presence and funny way of describing people and things. Since he was quite sheltered and fairly religious, he was also the unfortunate target of many light pranks which in retrospect were probably a bit wrong. 

Far too quickly, however, those early sunny days clouded over. Our mutual friends noticed something was up before I did. I saw nothing wrong with guy/girl friendships, and I still don’t. I think it’s stupid to assume that just because you’re friends with the opposite gender, you’re planning on banging. There’s this thing called liking someone’s personality. Unfortunately, lack of communication on this front meant that we had increasingly different ideas of what was going on; we’d go to the movies and meet up for coffee or hang out at the library, and although for me it was just spending time with a mate, he’d firmly chalked it up in his head as a date. In what I realise now was grossly inappropriate and a violation of my own innocence at the time, he managed to get it out of me that fact that I was a virgin and constantly went on about how rare and special it was that I wasn’t one of those ‘slutty girls’ - I feel like driving around to his house and punching him when I think of that now. Eventually, it all got too much and I made it very clear that I only ever saw him as a friend, not even one molecule of my being thought of him as boyfriend material, and I was more than happy to stay friends but nothing more. 

Once again, my lack of experience backfired and I realise that I should have just cut contact completely. More or less overnight, he turned into a vile creature. He criticised every aspect of my personality; my looks, my academic achievements, my choices in life. He made every effort to make me feel awful. The old Filipino connection, which used to be celebrated and was a source of pride, he now ground into the dust and tried to say that Filipinos were dumb and embarrassing. He still stayed in contact, constantly dropping hints about himself that were somehow meant to suggest that he was a wonderful boyfriend and I had missed out, but it got more and more irritating until one night I was at a party, a few drinks in, and sent a massive long text telling him everything I disliked about him. After that, it was completely over and there was no more drama. I wasn’t really harmed by the experience at all, I think something like that had to happen to make me more aware of life and relationships, but the lessons I learned stayed in my brain. I made a promise to myself that if I were ever in that situation of finding myself “friendzoned” to use the modern parlance, I wouldn’t do a full 360 and turn into a monster simply because the other person isn’t as smitten. It blows my mind how violently someone’s thoughts can turn in a confused reaction to lack of reciprocation. Not loving someone back isn’t a personal flaw, it’s just a fact of life. If you think someone is amazing enough to fall in love with them, how come that all has to shatter when you know they don’t feel the same way? I suppose it’s a reaction to pain, and like many emotional reactions, it’s not a rational one. I still don’t understand it.

Life has sometimes been described as a tapestry, or a long thread, and in many ways it’s true. Some people come into your life and their thread weaves a blaze of colour into your tapestry, but it doesn’t last forever. Humans are a clingy species and we don’t take kindly to a beautiful coloured thread petering out into a new phase, which can sometimes feel dull in comparison.

It’s the middle of summer and my thoughts are full of death, and darkness, and winter. I’m not actually depressed - not properly - although a friend of mine is starting to get concerned after our conversations the past couple of weeks. There’s talk of ‘seeing someone’ and ‘getting help’, which I’ve already done with no benefit whatsoever. I’m not in danger. I simply need time. Life’s tapestry gets tangled up sometimes, and there’s nothing you can do except sigh, sit back and unravel the unruly threads so you can go on your way again. 

“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there's something stronger — something better, pushing right back.” - Albert Camus