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ahatintimestorybook · 4 years

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AHIT Twin AU- Not so First Day

So here is a three part story the focuses on bullying. So a slight warning right there. This story does get angsty mainly in the 2nd part of this three part story, but the angst and hurt/comfort is still there in all three.

Also for the bullies I based them off the Lazy Paw Gang, reason was I’m too lazy to make three new characters so I just said “How about if I just made them based off of some enemies from AHIT”

Enjoy!

@winterpower98

“You boys ready for school?” Angela asked.

Luka and MJ smiled as they put away their plates. It was the first day of school for them and they were excited. It was a new year and that meant their 4th grade life was behind them; it was their final year of elementary school and time to prepare for middle school.

After putting away the dishes the boys went to grab their backpacks and were ready to dash out the door. “Hold it boys!” Richard called out. The boys skidded to a halt as they looked up at their father. “Now, its your first day of school and all, but this year is different. You know why?” He asked.

Luka and MJ looked at one another confused. “Um...We’re 5th graders now so this is our last year of elementary school?” MJ guesses.

“And were no longer kids and soon we’ll be young men.” Luka added.

Richard chuckled. “No. You guys magic now.” He corrected them. Luka and MJ looked at each other forgetting they got their powers over the summer, and now was their first time going to school with them. “and with that you boys must promise me something. Don’t use your magic.” He wanted them.

MJ and Luka looked at each other and sighed. MJ was hoping he can use his powers for going up against the Lazy Paw Trio, a trio of bullies that’s been picking on him since 4th grade. “I promise!” Luka replied, which got MJ out of his thoughts.

Richard smiled at his youngest son and then turned to his oldest son. “Michael.” He said waiting on his oldest son’s answer.

MJ sighed.”I promise.”

Richard gave a soft chuckle and ruffled his boys hair making them laugh. “Richard.” Angela sighed. “I just did the boys hair and now your messing it all up.” Angela sighed. She gave her husband a light shove before fixing her sons hair once again. “There you two look great.”

MJ and Luka chuckled. Soon they heard their bus arrive and realize they’ll be late. “Oh the bus!” MJ shouted before running out the door. “Bye mom! Bye dad! We’ll see you after school!”

“Bye mom! Bye dad! We love you!” Luka shouted.

“Love you boys too!” Richard and Angela shouted at the same time.

MJ and Luka finally made it on the bus and as usual sat down next to each other. So far they saw many of their old classmates and school mates all talking about their summer and their excitement for school. MJ and Luka gave a small smile, while they both had each other, they didn’t have that many friends. Being sons to a lawyer and being slightly rich it meant kids avoided you or bother you in hopes it would boost their popularity.

There would be times where one kid would like to be with MJ and not Luka and vice versa. There were like two or three kids who liked both the brothers as they are and not use them due to their status, but they were in a different class then them. The twins hoped they had a class with one of them.

The bus then made its stop in Horizon Elementary School and the kids ran out to the playground to meet up with their other friends. The twins stepped out of the bus and went to the playground themselves, but before they got to play kickball or just hang around MJ grabbed a red marker.

“Give me your hand, Lulu.” MJ commanded. Luka rolled his eyes, every year MJ had to write down the twin’s classroom number to make sure they won’t forget. MJ wrote 54 on Luka’s hand before writing it on his own. “Alright. Remember that in case we separate to do our own thing?”

“Yeah. Yeah MJ I know.” Luka sighed.

MJ chuckled before putting the marker back into his bag. As he put away the marker someone threw a ball to his head. “Ow!” He groaned. He turned hoping it was just a kid who missed the catch or a kid who threw the ball too hard. However, surprise, surprise it was three known kids MJ was hoping to avoid.

The Lazy Paw Trio: Robin, Blake and their leader Scott.

“Well, well, well look who it is gang?” Scott said. Blake and Robin chuckled as the trio walked towards the twins. MJ gulped, but Luka stood by his brother hoping to protect him from the trio. “Hello there, Mikey and mini Mikey.” Scott spat.

MJ and Luka glared at their bullies. Mostly they were MJ’s bullies, but that didn’t stop them from picking on MJ’s little twin brother.

“You two are still lame as usual.” Robin insulted.

Luka smirked ignoring the insult. “We’ll we've matured over the summer!” He beamed. “What about you three?”

Robin glared and was ready to swing at the younger twin before MJ pulled him and himself down and Robin punched Blake on the nose. “You missed!” Blake shouted.

“Sorry the runts escaped!” Robin shouted back. Scott noticed the twins were gone and looked around the entire playground for them. However, his two knuckleheads were ready to fight each other and he had to stop them before finding the twin brats.

Luckily, the twins hid behind the big tree of playground and peeked to make sure the bullies weren’t looking for them. MJ sighed and slid down to the ground, “That was close.”

“Yeah.” Luka replied. “Glad I saved your butt.” He nudged his older twin brother.

MJ chuckled and put his arm around Luka pulling him close. “You and your tricks, Lulu.” Luka giggled as his brother wasn’t mad that he was at the risk of being punched in the face. The two stayed behind the tree the remainder of the morning till the bell ran to go back to class.

“Remember our room number?” MJ asked.

Luka smiled and showed his hand where MJ written the number. “I have!” He replied. MJ smiled as her and Luka started their first day of class together.

However, MJ was disappointed on who else joined them in class. That’s right, the Lazy Paw Trio and they also sat behind the twins giving the trio an advantage to throw things, and even put stuff behind MJ’s back.

Luka gulped and gave a smile to his brother as a sign to tell him “it can’t be that bad”, but the glare his older twin gave him made Luka quickly frown and faced the board. Since it was the first day back at school, there wasn’t much other then to relax, get to know each other, and learn what 5th grade had to offer them.

As they were reading and taking notes about what the class had to offer MJ’s eyes started to blur out the words on the board. Like a few kids he sat closer despite he and Luka sitting two rows from the board. The teacher of the class, Miss. Alpine looked at the older twin with worry. “Michael are you okay?” She asked.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine just can’t see.” MJ replied.

Miss. Alpine frowned and went over to her desk and pulled out a piece of paper. She wrote down on it and placed it on Luka’s desk. “Give it to your brother.” Miss. Alpine whispered. Luka nodded and went back to writing.

The Lazy Paw Trio looked at one another and smirked, now they just needed to read what their teacher had gave to their victim. Robin was able to look over Luka’s desk and saw the letter and chuckled at her two members.

“Glasses.” She whispered. Scott and Blake held their laughter so they wouldn’t get caught laughing. As they were holding it in Luka looked behind the trio and saw they were playing it cool now to avoid suspicion. The younger twin glared and signaled to them he’s got his eyes on them before finishing writing down notes.

When MJ was done, he sat back down and Luka handed him the note. MJ read it and sighed; first his bullies are in the same class and now he needed reading glasses. As much as MJ wanted to groan and faint he just put his head down for a moment.

By lunch and recess, the twins were happy to get out of class and at least hide out in the playground to be away from their bullies. As they made it there Scott and Blake pushed the twins away with Scott patting MJ in the back.

The older twin glared as he tried to feel his back and felt a piece of paper. “Read it for me Luka.” MJ said glaring at the bullies.

Luka did what his older brother told him and saw the piece of paper. On it was a poorly drawn picture of his older twin brother with large big glasses over his eyes with insults written all over the paper. MJ glared and crumpled up the paper and throwing it away before walking away.

“M-MJ?” Luka asked.

“Leave me alone Luka!” MJ snapped. Luka jumped from his brother’s anger and stood there as MJ walked away to be alone. Luka frowned and waited a bit before following his twin brother. It didn’t take him too long to find his brother sitting down at the same tree they were sitting under earlier. MJ looked up at his younger twin brother before turning away not wanting to talk.

Luka sat down next to MJ and the two sat in silence as they watched their classmates play together. Luka kept glancing at his twin brother trying to say something to cheer him up. It took him a while, but Luka was able to speak up. “I-it may be bad now, but its just the first day.” MJ looked up and turned to his younger brother. “In the coming weeks I’m sure it will get better.”

“You sure?” MJ asked.

Luka nodded. “Positively.” He replied.

MJ really wasn’t sure, but seeing how positive Luka was being despite yelling at him a moment ago showed how much Luka still loved him no matter what. MJ gave a smile and put his arm around his little brother. “Sorry for snapping at you Lulu.” MJ apologized.

Luka chuckled. “Its alright Mikey!” The two brothers smiled and sat down till it was time to have lunch.

A week has passed, and the bullies continued to mock the twins. MJ finally got his glasses and was worried about wearing them today. “Hey welcome back four eyes!” Blake shouted. The trio laughed as MJ looked down realizing he had to wear glasses today.

“Welcome back Geek!” Scott shouted as well.

“Real mature guys!” Luka replied. The bullies stopped laughing and looked at Luka. “Those jokes about glasses are so 3rd grade. Come up with some 5th grade jokes.” The bullies glared at Luka and surrounded the younger twin. Luka wasn’t scared at all of these bullies.

“Luka stop.” MJ begged trying to pull his little brother away so he wouldn’t cause a fight. Soon, Scott shoved MJ aside making him fall.

“Stay out of this Geek!” Scott snapped.

Luke glared. “Hey don’t push my brother like that!” Luka shouted pushing Scott aside. Scott glared and kicked Luka in shin making the younger twin yelp and hold his knee tight.

“Luka!” MJ shouted.

Scott chuckled. “See you two, I told you MJ’s wimpy little brother was just as week as him.” He revealed. The Lazy Paw Trio laughed as Luka looked up at them with a glare on his face. He found the trio’s backpacks and glared at it.

Since they Lazy Paw Trio were focused on laughing, Luka was able to get away with what he was about to do. His eyes glowed golden yellow as smoke started to come from their bags. MJ took notice of his younger twin using magic, and before anyone could notice he grabbed his little brother, picked him up which made Luka stop using magic.

“You okay?” MJ asked.

“I-I’m fine.” Luka replied. MJ took Luka somewhere private to discus what the peck he just did.

They decided to be at the back of the school away from the playground and once they were alone MJ glared at his little brother. “Are you crazy!” MJ snapped. “What did dad tell us about our…” he paused to see if any kid was hearing them. “Magic.” MJ whispered to be on the safe side.

Luka sighed. “Look, I wasn’t going to have these fools keep picking on you like that!” He shouted. “You’ve been picked by them since 3rd grade and all I’ve done was make side jokes and made sure you weren’t going to be sent to the nurses office!” He explained. “They need to be taught a lesson and I will give them the lesson they deserved!” Luka growled his hand turning black as flames re-appeared.

MJ gulped and grabbed Luka’s hands to hide the flames. He looked around and sighed, “I know you want to stop those jerks, but remember we can’t use our magic.”

Luka frowned feeling guilty he disobeyed his dad’s order. “I-I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He whimpered.

MJ frowned and hugged his brother. “Same here. I’d rather take a beating from those fools then seeing you end up hurt.” Luka was ready to cry and hugged his older brother back. Despite the bullying and the first week of school not going as they hoped, the twins knew they had each other’s back no matter what.

The two brothers hugged each other for a while till the bell rang. Once the bell rang the two brothers let go of each other and walked to class together. “So what did you do to the bullies backpack?” MJ asked.

Luka chuckled and smirked. “Not their backpack, but their homework.” He corrected. MJ and Luka shared a laughed going to class. They couldn’t wait too see the look on their bullies face at what happened to their homework.

#ahit au #ahit twin au #twin au #MJ Prince #ahit moonjumper #Moonjumper #Luka Prince #ahit snatcher #Snatcher

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years

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Six Baudelaires AU, Part Two {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One}

Chapter Thirty-One → in which the Baudelaires play fortune teller

“Well,” Violet said, “This is certainly a dilemma.”

“A dilemma is an understatement.” Lilac said. “He’s going to try and… holy shit.”

Klaus and Nick shared a terrified look, and then Soli stepped in front of her siblings and said, “We have to get to the tent. Lulu is busy.”

“Twi?” Sunny asked, which meant, “Do you think it’s really magic?”

“Lightning can’t appear inside of a tent.” Violet said. “Something mysterious is going on.”

“And we should find out what it is before we’re fed to the lions.” Lilac added.

“But,” Klaus asked, “What if it’s real?”

“I don’t know.” Violet said. “How can we know?”

“But what if,” Klaus said, tears springing to his eyes, “What if one of our parents is alive?”

Slowly, Nick leaned his head onto Klaus’s shoulder, and Sunny and Soli walked over to hug their legs, and Violet and Lilac ran over to join the embrace.

They huddled together for a very long time, and then Violet said, “I’m sorry. This is just… hard to think about.”

“If one of our parents survived,” Klaus said, “Why would they be hiding out here? Why aren’t they looking for us?”

“Maybe they are.” Violet asidd. “But we’ve been running for so long they can’t find us.”

“Then why didn’t they contact Mr Poe?”

“Maybe they have our same shitty luck.” Lilac said.

“Or maybe,” Nick said, very quietly, keeping his eyes shut tight, “They were told not to find us.”

The siblings stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Violet asked.

Nick didn’t answer.

“Nick?” Violet said again. “What the hell does that mean?”

Nick opened his eyes again, and they could see that he was crying, too. “I…” he began, before shutting his eyes again. “I… just… maybe they don’t want us anymore.”

“Nick!” Lilac said. “Nick, of course they want us! Why wouldn’t they? We’re their children! They love us!”

“Do they?” Nick said.

Lilac gasped. “Of course! What’s gotten into you?”

Sunny stepped away and said, “Galfuskin!” which meant something like, “We shouldn’t stand around talking. We need to get to Lulu’s tent before she gets back.”

“Sunny’s right.” Violet said quickly. “Come on, we have to hurry, or we may not get another chance.”

Slowly, they nodded, and followed Violet and Sunny towards Madame Lulu’s tent.

Lilac pushed open the flap, and they all stepped inside. The siblings glanced around the tent; in the center was a table with a velvet cloth that reached to the floor with an ordinary-enough looking crystal ball on the top. There was a cupboard on one side of the tent and a trunk on the other, and a heavy curtain in the back of the tent.

“What should we look for first?” Violet asked.

Klaus and Nick threw off their shared shirt, and Klaus said, “We should divide and conquer.”

“Or,” Lilac said, wandering over to a panel of two switches. “We follow the routine Olaf and Lulu laid out for us. He said they began with turning off the lights, right? Well, we’ll do that.”

Violet moved over, pulling off her wig and tying back her hair with her ribbon. “One of those switches clearly turns off the lights, but what does the other do?”

“What’s that?” Solitude asked, pointing up as Babbitt hopped from her pocket to her shoulder.

They looked up, seeing a mirror attached to the top of the tent at an odd angle, hanging from a piece of metal and attached to a long strip of rubber. Nick moved towards the end of the rubber, finding a large knot of wires and gears, also attached to several mirrors.

Violet and Lilac looked at each other, and then immediately started talking so fast their siblings could hardly keep up.

“That piece of rubber up there looks like a fan belt.” Viollet said.

“That would transmit torque from an automotive engine in order to help cool the radiator.” Lilac said.

“But why would you want to-”

“Look, see, it moves the other mirrors around, but how could-”

“Wait a minute. Look at that small hole in the upper corner of the tent.”

Klaus pulled his glasses from his pocket in order to look, too, while Lilac said, “What direction are we facing if we face the hole?”

“East.”

“The direction of the sunrise.”

“I’m sorry,” Nick said quietly, “What the hell are you all on about?”

Violet and Lilac smiled at each other, and then Lilac flicked one of the switches. The gears began to spin, and the strip of rubber began to move, and the mirrors whirled around in a circle.

“You hear that humming sound?” Violet asked.

“It’s not from the crystal ball, like Olaf thought.” Lilac said. “It’s from the machine.”

“That larger mirror is angled so it reflects light from the rising sun onto the other mirrors.” Violet added. “Making flashing lights- fake lightning.”

“The lights being off means he can’t see the invention.” Lilac said.

She switched off the invention, and Klaus said quietly, “So Madame Lulu iss a fake?”

“Oh, definitely.” Lilac nodded. “I bet that crystal ball is just plain glass. She pretends to be a fortune teller to get gifts and money.”

Sunny looked up, and then asked, “Chesro?” which meant, “But if she’s a fake, how did she know that one of our parents is alive?”

The older Baudelaires stared at her for a moment, and then looked to each other, not sure what to say.

Finally, Klaus knelt down and said, “She didn’t, Sunny. Her information’s fake, too.”

Sunny shook her head. “Reperibat,” he said, which meant, “But it can’t be! She knew where we were, and told Olaf!”

“That is true.” Lilac said quietly.

“How would she get that information?” Violet narrowed her eyes.

“Let’s see…” Lilac moved over to the table. “Count Olaf said that after the lightning, she made him close his eyes and concentrate, so she could read the ball-”

“There!” Solitude called, and then she ran to the table, grabbing the edge of the cloth. Nick followed her and lifted it up, and a small piece of paper fell out.

He picked it up and read, “Dear Duchess, your masked ball sounds like a fantastic evening, and I look forward to… this is just some dumb party note.”

“Um, that’s not all.” Klaus said, kneeling down and looking under the table, and his siblings all rushed to join him.

Under the table were enormous piles of papers, stuffed together into small shelves.

“Holy shit.” Lilac said, grabbing a paper. “This is a newspaper article about the ‘It Takes a Village’ program.”

“This is a magazine about the In Auction.” Violet said.

“Letters, files, photographs,” Klaus said, looking around. “She looks through this while people have their eyes closed, and they can’t hear the papers over the hum.”

Nick grabbed a selection of paper, staring curiously, and then he quickly tried to shove it back, but Klaus’s eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of it, and he grabbed it from his brother.

“This is the sheet music that was in the piano!” he said. “But it’s not all blurred out!”

“The piano?” Nick asked, confused.

“When we escaped the elevator,” Violet explained quickly, “There was a tunnel to our house.”

“Babbitt found hidden stuff in the piano.” Solitude added.

“That’s where we got Mother’s necklace.” Lilac explained. “And this sheet music, and this baby picture of me.” She pulled out the photograph of herself as an infant, passing it to Nick. He stared for a second, as she turned to Klaus. “What’s it say?”

“It’s some kind of folk song, but I think it has the wrong notes, those just look like Row Your Boat.” Klaus said. “It’s called The Little Snicket Lad.”

“Jacques?” Sunny asked.

“I’m not sure.” Klaus said, skimming. “It doesn’t seem to have his name-”

Nick stuffed the photograph into his pocket, and then made a grab for the papers. “Let me see it.”

“Hey, wait your turn!” Klaus said.

He flinched back, and as he did, he hit his shoulder onto the table, and the children watched as the crystal ball fell from the cloth and shattered onto the floor.

They stared for a moment, and then Sunny said, “Fuck.”

She repeated herself when the tent flapped open, and they all looked up to see Madame Lulu enter the room.

There was a tense moment of silence, and then Lulu said, “What are you doing here, please? What are the freaks doing in my tent, please?” She stared at Klaus and Nick, and said, “What are you doing separate from your other head? What-”

Nick jumped to his feet, angrily stepping in front of Sunny and Solitude, and he yelled, “What are you doing conning the shit out of people, please?”

Madame Lulu looked furious. “How dare you! You broke the crystal ball, please! You broke into Madame Lulu’s tent, please, and broke her magical-”

“That ball isn’t magic at all!” Violet shouted, also leaping to her feet, Lilac and Klaus quickly following her. “And you’re not a fortune teller.”

“That device makes your stupid lightning!” Lilac said, gesturing up. “And your information library is down here!”

“This is all one big fraud!” Klaus said. “You should be ashamed!”

Madame Lulu gaped at them a moment, and then, to the Baudelaires’ surprise, she put her hands over her face and collapsed into a chair.

“I am ashamed of myself.” she said, in an unaccented voice. “I am utterly ashamed of myself.”

She pulled a wig off of her head, revealing long, bright locks that fell over her shoulders. The Baudelaires stared, shocked, and then Violet said, “Madame Lulu, why would you-”

“Oh.” Lulu cried. “Don’t call me that. My name is Olivia Caliban, I’m not Madame Lulu, and I’m not a fortune teller.”

“But then why would you pretend to be these things?” Klaus asked. “Why are you helping Count Olaf?”

“I help everyone.” Olivia said. “My motto is ‘give people what they want.’ That’s why I’m at the carnival. I tell people what they want to hear. If Count Olaf or one of his henchmen asks me where the Baudelaires are, I tell them. If Jacques Snicket wants to know if his brother is alive, I tell him. I collect papers from libraries and files-”

“And from VFD?” Nick asked coldly.

Everyone froze, and Olivia looked up at him. Then she blinked and said, “Wait a moment. I recognize you. You’re a Baudelaire.” she turned to the others. “That means you-”

“We’re all Baudelaires in disguise, yeah.” Nick snapped, and he slammed his hand on the table in front of her. “Catch up. You said there was a survivor of the fire. Who told you that?”

“N-no one.” Olivia said. “I guessed. If one of your parents survived, they’d go to one of the last surviving VFD headquarters in the Mortmain Mountains.”

“Because our parents were in VFD?” Violet asked.

“Of course.” Olivia said. “You would know that.”

“We don’t know anything about VFD.” Klaus said.

“Then how did you learn to disguise yourselves?” Olivia asked, astonished. “You used the VFD Disguise Training- veiled facial disguises, various finery disguises, voice fakery- It all even looks like it’s from my disguise kit.”

“We got our disguises from Olaf’s trunk.” Violet said.

“That,” Nick snapped again, shutting his eyes, “Is because Olaf has the VFD disguise kit. Isn’t that right, Olivia? All the Volunteers get the stupid kit.”

“Nick,” Lilac said carefully, as Olivia flinched, “What are you talking about?”

“They all get the disguise kit in training.” Nick said, and then suddenly he was talking so fast his siblings could barely keep up. “They all get the kit and they can use it however they want. They can use it to help us or hurt us- and they’ve been hurting us, they’ve all been hurting us so much. They were intended to help, but then the schism ruined that, didn’t it, Olivia? But you were all fucked before the schism, weren’t you? They fuck you up, your Mom and Dad- but they were fucked up in their turn. You’ve got the Snicket Lad song, don’t you, Olivia? You know what they do. What they did. You were all fucked, you’ve always been fucked, but now it’s worse because you’re volunteering to start fires instead of stop them. I bet you don’t know which side you’re on, do you, Olivia?”

Olivia looked about ready to cry, and Lilac shouted, “Nick!”

“Nick, what are you talking about?” Klaus cried.

“I’m talking,” Nick spat, “About the Volunteer Fire Department!”

Olivia gasped, and the Baudelaires continued to stare at Nick, who proceeded to talk quickly again, tears starting to spring to the edge of his eyes. “Yeah! I said it! You know what, I think I’ve been here before! Me and the Quagmires were kept in the fucking red herring most of the time, but now that I think about it, I remember running through these fucking Hinterlands. You didn’t see me, did you? But if you did, you wouldn’t have helped, because he wouldn’t have wanted that! You have to give him what he wants! Did you hear me? Did you hear them catch me, Olivia? Do you know what they did to me? Did you hear me screaming when they-”

“Stop it!” Olivia threw her hands over her ears. “Stop it, I didn’t-”

“Nick!” Violet shouted, grabbing Solitude, who looked like she was about to pass out, clinging to Babbitt.

“What have you done, huh?” Nick screamed. “What have you done to cause grief around here? Did you tell the person who burned down our house where to find us? How many villains did you direct towards orphans, huh? How many fucking lives have you ruined because you just give everyone everything? You know what, you know what happens when you don’t fucking think? What happens is my siblings get hurt, my friends get kidnapped, and I get tortured, I get ripped apart, I get-”

Klaus raced forwards and threw his arms around Nick, and Nick suddenly froze up, and then burst into tears. Klaus continued to hug him, and after a moment, Violet let Solitude go, and Soli ran to her big brother and hugged his legs. Sunny joined her, and then Violet and Lilac stepped forwards, wondering if they should join.

Instead, Lilac tuned to Olivia.

“Nick is right.” she said. “You’ve caused a lot of pain, just to give Olaf what he wanted.”

“I know.” Olivia said weakly, staring at the ground. “But I don’t know what else to do.”

Violet moved beside her, putting a hand over hers. “You can stop helping Olaf and help us instead.” she said. “Tell us about VFD. Take us to the Mortmain Mountains to see if one of our parents is truly alive.”

Olivia looked up at her. “I used to be a noble person. Do you think I could be noble again?”

“I don’t know.” Violet said. “But let’s find out.”

Nick’s tears slowed, and he looked over at them, and said, his voice breaking, “Violet-”

“We don’t have a way to get to the Mortmain Headquarters, though.” Olivia said. “We don’t have a car, or a minivan, or seven horses, or a large slingshot-”

“Olivia,” Lilac asked, thinking hard, “Do the carts on that rollercoaster still work?”

“The carts?” Olivia repeated. “The wheels move, but the engines have rusted away.”

“If we take apart your lightning device,” Violet said, “We could use that rubber as a fan belt. We’ll fix it tonight and then come fetch you to sneak out.”

“No.” Olivia shook her head. “At night, Count Olaf’s henchpeople will notice a roller coaster engine leaving. Better to leave in the afternoon. Everyone will be at the House of Freaks, and we can repair the cart and escape without notice. In the morning, I’ll get my spare crystal ball so Count Olaf will not know it is broken.”

“Count Olaf will ask where to find us.” Nick said, still clinging to his brother. “You won’t tell him, will you?”

Olivia paused a moment. “No.” she said uncertainly.

“Promise?” Sunny asked.

Olivia didn’t answer for a long time, and then finally Nick said, “Do you promise, Olivia? You won’t give us back to that monster?”

Olivia sighed. “I promise, if you promise to take me with you to VFD.”

“We promise.” Violet said.

Before they could say anything more, they heard a shout, and Nick leapt back as Olaf cried, “Lulu! Where the hell are you?”

“In the tent, my Olaf!” Olivia called, dropping into her Lulu voice. “Do not come in, please, I am doing secret ritual with the magic crystal ball!”

“Well, alright, but the henchpeople finished digging the pit!” Olaf called. “And we all want some more wine!”

“I will meet you in the caravan, please!” Olivia said. She turned to the Baudelaires and said quietly, “You better get back in disguise and hurry back to your caravan, please. We will fix the cart in the afternoon, please.”

“And you’ll remember your promise?” Lilac asked.

Lulu paused, and then said, “Yes. I will remember.”

When the Baudelaires stepped out of the tent, Lilac gestured for them to move behind a small caravan. They followed her, and as soon as she was certain they were alone, she ran over to Nick and threw her arms around him, holding him close.

Violet did the same, and for a while, they all stood in silence.

And then Violet pulled away and asked, “Nick, how did you find out about VFD?”

Nick bit his lip as Lilac also pulled away, gripping onto Klaus’s hand and staring at the ground. “I… some of it from the Quagmires, when we could… could talk… some of it from… from…”

“And you’re sure it’s all true?” Klaus asked.

Nick nodded. “D-double-checked the Quagmires’ notes when we could… it’s all…”

“Nick,” Violet asked, “What… what can you tell us?”

“It’s called the Volunteer Fire Department.” Nick said. “They used to stop fires, both literal and figurative. Keep secrets, solve mysteries… do other, more dangerous things. But there was a… a schism, and… and now a bunch of them are like him, running around starting fires and- and- and- and it’s all in total confusion. And… and our parents- they were-” He shut his eyes. “It’s not… they thought it… I… I can’t… I can’t…”

Violet put an arm around him again, and then said. “It’s okay, Nick. It’s okay. You don’t have to talk now. We’ll find out from Olivia, okay? You don’t have to… think about it.”

Nick nodded quietly, and then Klaus said, “We should get back to the caravan, before the others miss us.”

“Nick, I just have one more question, if you can tell us.” Lilac said.

“Li-” Violet began.

“What?” Nick asked, sounding terrified.

Lilac locked eyes with him. “Who’s Snicket?”

Nick stared at her for a long, long time.

And then he said, “I’ll tell you later.”

#asoue #asoue movie #asoue netflix #a series of unfortunate events #six baudelaires au #six baudelaires official fic #the carnivorous carnival #mine #my fanfic

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nerdwaifuu · 5 years

Text

Antique

Here’s a little something I wrote for a contest on Amino.

« Papa, papa! Can you tell us the story again? Puh-lease?~» A young girl begged before being sent from the couch to her bedroom for the night.

« Yeah dad, tell us about the music box, » The girl’s older, twin brothers said in unison.

« Alright alright. Hold your horses kiddos. Let me get the darn thing. » The father got the old music box. It was an old, small, dark wooden box; a faded yin-yang symbol with dragons in each side was painted on the lid with gold and black paint. When the lid was lifted, an old lullaby began to play and some items could be seen inside; a folded up piece of paper, an engagement ring, a wedding ring, a silver dog tag with the name ‘Luna Hord’ on it. The kids have seen the items many times in old photos and have read the awkward love letters tightly folded with a picture of a young woman chatting with a younger version of their father by a railing of a ship; both wore green soldier uniforms and armor.

“Alright, let’s begin...”

After a long night of dancing and food, the newly wed couple immediately crashed into the back of their pickup truck to stare at the not-so-clear night sky in their pajamas. It looked like it was going to rain, but the couple didn’t care. As long as it wasn’t stormy, everything was fine.

“Sooo...” the man turned his head toward his wife, having his long, brown, nearly ginger hair get in his face. “How does it feel to be Mrs. Bounty now?”

With a happy sigh, his wife answered, “Great, as long as you don’t call me ‘Mrs. Bounty’ all the time. Just sounds weird coming from you, Ronin.”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare, Lulu.” Luna groaned at the nickname. Ronin couldn’t help but smirk. “You know you love it.”

“You know I don’t... Roonon.”

He rolled his eyes and turned his head back towards the sky. “Oh no, a nickname. I’m quaking,” Ronin teased without chuckling, but he lost it when he felt a hard jab hit his arm. Immediately, he heard Luna start giggling uncontrollably. Between her giggles, he could hear her try to apologize. They continued their laughing fits until they heard a car pull up next to them. Ronin immediately stopped, but it took a bit for Luna to come to the end of her fit. Once done, Ronin’s two eyes traded looks of confusion with Luna. Why would anybody be out so late?

Sitting up, Ronin saw it was his mother’s car that sat with them in their driveway. When she came out of the car, Ronin asked, «Hey Mom, whatcha doin’ here? »

Before she could answer, rain drops landed on each of their heads, slowly dropping from the cloud more rapidly. Ronin’s mother cursed under her breath while motioning toward the house. Nodding, he turned to look at Luna, who was now sitting up as well. She was looking at the sky with a childish grin and wonder in her eyes, allowing the rain to land on her olive skin. She has seen rain before from the inside of her family’s humongous home, but her parents said it was immature and not « lady-like » to go out to play in the rain, so she never had the sensation of rain dripping down her cheeks and the joy of jumping into puddles or singing in the rain. She only got to experience being outside in the rain once she was a soldier, but she had a mission to focus on. This would be the first time she could stand in the rain happily. Maybe later they could come back out for a bit if the weather doesn’t get worse.

Before exiting the back of the truck, Ronin tossed the house keys to his mother so she no longer had to suffer in the rain and nudged Luna to indicate it was time to go inside. With slight disappointment, Luna nodded and waited for Ronin to get out first to help her carefully drop to the ground; however, when he went to help her, Luna soon found herself being carried bridal style.

« When I said I needed help, I didn’t mean like this. » Luna retorted.

« Figured you wanted to give your feet a break. »

« I am still able to walk. » Luna slightly shifted in Ronin’s arms, sighing. « Besides, I want to get some more steps in before I not able to move around as much... » She glanced down at her stomach. The small baby bump was not noticeable under her baggy hoodie that she definitely did not steal from Ronin.

« You still have a couple months. You can still do a bunch of walking between now and then, but again, your feet need a break after all that dancing. »

Luna shook her head. « Right. All that slow waltzing and ballroom... »

« In high heels... and for a couple hours straight, » Ronin reminded her as he carried her into the house.

« Uhuh. After years of walking in those pieces of shit and going to those god damn parties since I was a literal child, I basically grew a tolerance to those little devils. »

« Language! » The two heard Ronin’s mother call out from the kitchen. Both let out a small laugh before Ronin said, « Yeah, says the lovely angel who was complaining on the way home about her feet hurting. »

He smirked as Luna sighed in defeat. She knew he was right about that, but her feet were fine now; however, there was no need to continue quarreling about such a silly thing.

Once Luna was set carefully on the couch, Ronin’s mother struggled to slowly and carefully carry three wine glasses, two with a red wine and the third with water.

“Let me help.” Ronin went over to grab the water and one of the wine filled glasses, and he handed Luna the water glass as she mouthed the words ‘thank you’ before taking a sip.

“You really took your time to get in here. I have no clue how you enjoy standing out there in the rain,” Ronin’s mother sighed. “You get drenched and end up feeling cold and clamy and you could get sick, which isn’t a good thing for you dear. If Ronin wasn’t my son, I wouldn’t be persistent on keeping him from looking like a wet dog, but you dear can’t be getting sick,” she rambled on, clearly speaking only to Luna as if Ronin wasn’t there.

He threw in a quick ‘excuse me?’ before Luna reassured, “Don’t worry Mary. I’m not reckless like a certain someone.” She shot a quick smirk at Ronin, who rolled his eyes as the two women giggled.

“I feel attacked,” He mumbled.

“True. At least he’s not as reckless as someone else...” Mary trailed off and looked at the decreasing red liquid in her glass. Ronin knew exactly who she was thinking about.

“Anyway, speaking of this someone... I have a little something-something for y’all,” Mary exclaimed happily as she scrambled for her purse. From the purse, she grabbed out a small wrapped gift and handed it to Luna. She let out another ‘thank you’ as she ripped the paper off like a child on her birthday. Under the shiny red paper was a wooden box, with a yin-yang with dragons inside the symbols hand painted in fading gold and black on the lid. Ronin and Mary remained silent as Luna examined the box. She mouthed the word ‘wow’ as she felt the polished wood and looked at the design. Her eyes lit up as music danced into her ears when she opened the lid. She felt like a child on Christmas. The box was beautiful. The calming lullaby reminded her of the lullabies her nanny sang to her when she was younger.

Although Luna grew up in a world where everything was given to her on a golden platter and she has always been given gifts that were way out of anyone’s normal price range, she adored this box. This was the type of gifts she always wanted; something full of love instead of riches.

“I love it! Thank you so much Mary!” Luna exclaimed as she got up to hug Mary.

“Anytime my dear,” She said as Luna went back to sit down. “I would’ve given this to you at the ceremony, but I couldn’t find it since I had packed it away, hoping to never to see it again... but I had to keep the tradition up.”

“Tradition?” Luna asked curiously.

“My family has been passing this thing down for who knows how long. It’s the go-to wedding gift. My grandparents on my dad’s side gave it to Mom and him when they got married,” Ronin swiftly answered before Mary could get a word in.

“Well it’s beautiful, I don’t understand why you would pack this up...” Ronin and Mary traded looks of what could only be described as pain.

“Well... uh...” Mary bit her lip, looking for the words to say.

“When I mean dad, I don’t mean Tom...” Ronin uttered. Tom was his step father. He was sweetest man that could’ve walked the planet. The man they were speaking of was the complete opposite of Tom. Ronin’s biological father was lying, cheating, abusive piece of shit. He was a man that Ronin did not want to become in the slightest, but any chance of him following his father’s footsteps worried him for what was to come. Any mention of him sent a chill down Ronin’s spine despite him always thinking of his actions when he found out that he was going to be a father; however, his life would have to be a absolute mess to do what his father did; be a part of gangs, constantly stealing, crime, getting himself into deep debt, drinking, violence, and probably much more that Mary wouldn’t dare bring up to Tom or Ronin.

Ronin could remember when his father was killed when Ronin was only 11. Fortunately he was out of his life 3 years earlier. When that happened, Ronin remembered that the music box disappeared from the shelf, but he never asked what happened to it. Now, it sat in Luna’s hands.

She stared down at the box with regret in her eyes. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ronin reassured her, wrapping his arm around her. “It’s a thing of the past. That man shouldn’t be associated with this anymore.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead, making her smile. Mary couldn’t help but smile too.

“Yeah, that a- butthole is a thing of the past. He’s gone and should be forgotten. We bigger things ahead of us, like a honeymoon and my future grandchildren.”

The three chatted through the night. With the music from the music box and the rain outside, Luna dozed into a deep sleep in Ronin’s arms, which was a que for Mary to decide it was time to go.

With a congratulations and a goodnight, Mary dissappeared into the rainy night. Smiling, Ronin closed his eyes and fell asleep to the rain and the music.

“Alright, time for bed.”

The story was finished for tonight, only to be retold the next night. Ronin of course left out details related to his father since there was no need for his story to be passed down any further.

His children protested, but was soon convinced to go to their rooms and go to bed. After tucking them into bed, Ronin set went into the small living room and set the music box on the shelf where it belonged. It was one of the only antiques he had in his house since all the others were in his shop; he wouldn’t dare sell this to anyone, even if they did offer a billion dollars for it.

A sad look was in his uncovered eye as he looked longingly at the box. He wished that he still contact with his mother and not have her angry at him. He wished that he could undo everything he did. He wished that she was still here beside him to watch her children grow up.

“I miss you Lulu.”

#ninjago #ninjago fanfic #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago ronin

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fandomscenarios-exe · 6 years

Text

Doting the one you Love | Boku no Hero Academia / My Hero Academia

Word Count: 858

Thank you lulu for putting this out there!

“Rough day?” Midoriya asks, rubbing my shoulders.

“Yeah,” I lean my head back and he kisses my nose. He smiles and takes away the knots in my neck. “Thank you.”

“I made soba for dinner. You know, the kind that’s not hot the way you like it.” He smiles and I help him set the table. Midoriya’s always been so nice, even before we were together. I start eating. It’s good.

I still don’t know why he does the things he does but if it makes him happy then I’ll do what I can to keep him that way.

“Did you hear that Kirishima made the top ten this week?”

“I’m not surprised. He’s been sparing with Bakugo and Ojiro since high school.”

“Yeah, he ended up teaming up with a bunch of novice heroes too. The whole fight was a mess really.”

“Mr. Aizawa would be proud anyway.”

“Almost as much as he is of his daughter,” He points out. “Ms. Joke did good when they got married.”

“I’m still surprised she finally managed to wear him down like she did.” He goes back to his bowl.

“Hey, Midoriya?” He looks up. “This what it’s like to be taken care of, right?” The look on his face is definitely confused to say the least.

“I’d say so, yeah.” He swallows his mouthful. “This is what it’s like to be taken care of.”

After dinner we cuddle on the couch and listen to each other’s stories from work. “-And it turned out they were partners the whole time!” He says.

“They were? I didn’t see that coming.” Midoriya starts yawning. “You look tired, time for bed?” He nods and I pick him up.

“Todoroki you don’t have to-”

“I know.” I say as I set him on the bed. There’s a few kisses as we change. Before I know it, he’s asleep.

How could I have been so blind to this? Midoriya always gives everything his all. I think about our relationship. He’s been like this since before the beginning. Whenever we used to go out and get groceries with Bakugo he always had what was best for everyone in mind. Which eventually turned into what was best for us when we got out together.

I wake up early the next morning. There’s more than enough time to get everything ready. It’s almost a miracle that Midoriya is sleeping on his side of the bed when I get up. He’s usually got himself tangled in the sheets with me.

I get out of bed and start getting the kitchen ready for breakfast. I hope I’m not doing this wrong. He makes this look so easy. Midoriya usually does the cooking and then I’ll handle some of the cleaning afterward.

Breakfast in bed is a good start, right? I keep cooking and plate Midoriya a few options on a tray. When I’m done I take it back to our room and leave it on my side of the bed while I wake him up.

“Midoriya, I’ve got breakfast.” I say as I run a hand up to his face. “Izuku, wake up-” I kiss his neck.

“Mmh. Todoroki?” He leans in out of reflex. “It’s still early, what do you mean breakfast?” He sits up in bed and I put the tray in his lap. “Oh!”

“Is it not enough? There’s more in the kitchen if you don’t like this. I didn’t leave too much did I?” He shakes his head and thanks me for the meal.

“I thought you could use a break and take some time to slow down.” I sit with him. “We don’t get a lot of time off.”

“Weren’t you going to visit your mom?”

“I wrote her a few letters this week, I think she’ll be okay if I stay home this once.” He smiles a bit and finishes his plate. “Let me do it, just relax.” I clean up the mess and go back to bed with him.

“We have the whole day, what do you want to do?”

“Oh! This really cool new All Might documentary just came out, can we watch that?” He starts going on about how great it was going to be and how much it means to the two of them. His muttering doesn’t go on like it used to, but it still takes a few kisses to make him stop.

He does so much, I should do more for him.

“-odoroki?”

“Sorry what was that?”

“You’ve been spacing out all morning. You’re not usually like this unless you’re tired.” Midoriya has gotten better at reading me, and people in general. Especially with all of the rescue training he did before he went pro.

I have a hard time trying to say my next sentence. “I just- is this what I should be doing?”

“Shoto,” He starts whispering sweet nothings and holds me close. “Trust me, it’s perfect. I love you.”

#todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #fluff #fanfic #a soft boi #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #tododeku #accidental feels writes

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thefeelszone · 6 years

Text

Candlenights Special

The party was dying down, and the large mismatched family aboard the Bureau of Benevolence base settled in to exchange presents. This time last year, Lucretia had requested that no one give her gifts for candlenights, as it was unprofessional. This year she got one from everyone but Taako, who had conveniently “forgot.” Most of the gifts were related to her interests, but Magnus got her a another coupon for another free backrub. She wondered if he’d keep doing that until she actually used one of the coupons.

Or, more likely, if he’d keep doing it forever.

Taako laughed happily, sitting between Kravitz and Lup on the couch. Lup was adjusting her new shirt, which read “Official member of the BONEr squad.”

“Tacky enough?” He asked.

“Not nearly. I hope you got matching ones for Barold and Ghost Rider.”

“Oh shit my dude you’re right.”

“Always am.”

“That’s not your whole present though…” He said, smile going softer.

“Oh? It better not be a fake goat. ‘Cause I could have gotten you key-lime pie if we were doing embarrassing story gifts.”

“No it’s not… “ He laughed again and shook his head, handing her the package. “Here.”

Lup opened it slowly, watching her brother out of the corner of her eye. What was he up to?

“Oh.”

It wasn’t THE sketch, but it was almost an exact copy. She remembered that trip to the festival, when their aunt was watching them. They’d stopped by an artist doing portraits and their aunt had spent actual money to get one done of the three of them so she could hang it on her wall. It looked like this replica had been done by Lucretia. Which meant Taako had talked to her and asked her for help.

“Koko I- Wow my gift looks like shit now.”

Taako shrugged it off, obviously pretending it was no big deal. “Of course. My gift is awesome. But what’d you get me, Lulu?”

She passed him the gift and he unwrapped it.

“An umbrella?”

“Just like my old one, but this one doesn’t eat magical essence.” Her eyes shone with mischief and pride “It eats loot.”

As the party finally came to an end, and all gifts were exchanged, with Killian and Carey going home and Angus in Kravitz’s lap, Merle turned to Barry.

“Who’s the last gift for, Barold?”

“Oh… uh…” Barry tapped the last box nervously, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Angus had found that Barry was normally a nervous guy, but he generally loosened up around his family. What’s going on?

“It’s private.” Barry said finally.

“You already got Lup a present though.” Merle pushed. Angus wondered if he was going to cast his favorite spell for this. He didn’t though.

“It’s for Magnus, actually.” Barry said it like a joke, but Angus spoke up. He had to, he was intrigued.

“If it’s for Magnus, sir, why have you been avoiding Kravitz all night?”

“You trying to cheat on my sister with my boyfriend. I am ashamed, Barry. You’re my brother in law!” Taako teased.

“It really is for Magnus, but I wanted to give it to him privately.” Barry said, panicking slightly.

“You can just give it to me now. It can’t be THAT embarrassing. We’ve known you for over a hundred years you cannot physically embarrass yourself any more than you have.” Magnus said, looking as curious as Angus felt.

“It’s not embarrassing it’s… personal” Angus caught sight of Mr. Bluejeans’ eyes flick towards Kravitz in worry. Why? Sure Mr. Kravitz is the grim reaper and Mr. Bluejeans’ boss but… unless the thing in the box is necromancy related? Contraband? But why would Magnus be on the receiving end.

Unless a prior theory of Angus’ was about to be proven correct.

The boy detective found himself praying and hoping that for once he was wrong.

There was an envelope on top of the box, and Magnus seemed to stop breathing when he saw it. Angus tried to get a better look, but Magnus turned the envelope upside down and stood up, holding the box as if it were made of glass.

“I’ll be back.”

As Magnus left the room, Barry finally spoke to Kravitz for the first time that night.

“He was like a brother for a hundred years and… I know what it’s like for the love of your life to be gone.”

“The Raven Queen doesn’t have to know. You can trust me to back you up on rule breaking. I know we’ve only worked together for half a year, but I am dating one of my marks-

“Really?” Taako asked in mock surprise “Who?”

Kravitz smiled “Someone who just so happens to also be Barry’s brother-in-law. We’re family.” He paused, thinking “And I consider Magnus family too. You can trust me with this stuff.”

Barry released a sigh of relief.

A few days before Candlenights, a young women sat in a hopefully temporary shelter, writing a letter to be delivered by a man who claimed to know Magnus. She was never the best at taking things slow and perfecting them, but for the project and letter in front of her, she made sure every part was perfect.

Dear Magnus,

Dear Mango,

My dearest Magnus,

My dearest Mango,

Yes, it really is me. I want to say, before anything else, that I love you. I love you so much and I’m not entirely sure what is going on or who this man in blue pants is, but know no matter what trouble you’re in I am proud of you. I wish I could hug and kiss you this candlenights, but you know why I can’t. It’s been too long. I cannot wait to see you again. Just not too soon, okay? I have a surprise in the works for you. I wasn’t going to tell you but

Anyways, in the box is a half of a necklace I carved myself. I never was as good at woodworking as you. I prefer the bigger projects. I remember working on projects with you and doing the main part while you went in and did the details. I tried really hard with this though. I tried to make it as intricate and beautifully complex as you are. Gosh that was cheesy I just miss you so much. I have the other half, so that even though we are literally worlds apart, we have another thing that connects us. I hope you like it.

My dad’s old dog says hi. He always liked you best, the traitor. I don’t blame him though. It’s common sense to love you. Speaking of dad, he probably won’t be here when you arrive. He’s tired. He wants to join the sea of souls. I shouldn’t be troubling you candlenights with this.

I love you so much. I love you so much. I love you so much. I can’t possibly say it enough in one letter. I love you. Have a good time with your friends. I’ll see you someday.

With so much love, yours forever,

Julia Burnsides

#Julia seems like she'd refer to him a her dearest mango #Emma does writing #candlenights #taz balance

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cockvengers · 7 years

Text

Final Great Comet Notes (1/2)

So I went to see Comet on September 2nd (matinee) and September 3rd (closing) with a friend. Some of the musings apply to both shows but I’ll try to go in some sort of order. The first part is primarily related to the show on the 2nd.

September 2nd:

For this show we were in the stage right (house left) banquettes. We were in row D in the aisle closest to the center of the stage.

It was our first time sitting on the stage and it did not disappoint.

Brandt gave us each a dumpling and gave the pre-show spiel

Got our first look at Blaine as Andrei

Dave got applause during entrance which seemed like a lot at the time but looking back it was nothing compared to Sunday.

During prologue Josh Canfield raced up some steps, leaned over and sang in my face.

Meanwhile, my friend made roughly 30 seconds of eye contact with Amber Gray. It ended with Amber winking at her.

It was my first time seeing Brad and he was really stand out to me.

During Pierre Dave’s voice was sufficently gravel-ly. A++

I enjoyed to see the good Russian men part because you can’t see most of it from the mezz where I sat the past and I always enjoy watching Anatole and Dolokhov party

Moscow was amazing from the stage. All of Grace’s micro expressions were amazing (as was her voice but you guys knew that). I also loved Sonya and Natasha imitating her. I forgot about that part from the last time and it was great.

Quiet and Intimate Life was great as usual. Gelsey’s voice is so impressive. What I watched most was Blaine’s performance. I really liked what I heard from the recordings of Blaine as Anatole so I was curious to see him as Andrei and Bolkonsky.

I felt he was just as intimidating as Nick but that may have been in part because we were sitting so close. His cough/hack thing was great.

When he was walking around his wig fell off and he gave a very in character screech and picked it up as if that was one more thing he had forgotten.

If I hadn’t seen the show before I probably would have thought it was supposed to happen

During No One Else Denée sang “...And flying away, like thisss” at me and damn. I now know how Pierre feels. I would ask to marry Natasha if I was the brightest, best lady on earth.

THE OPERA. THE OPERA. I love the ensembles outfits up close. I think Heath’s is my favorite here.

Paul Pinto has to introduce everyone and then change really quickly to be in the opera and I know it probably just overlays the costume he’s already wearing but it struck me as impressive because I never saw him leave the stage

The Duel was one of my favorites. I was way more adjusted to the strobes than the first time and wow, I loved all the costumes. Shoba’s dress stood out to me the most from the stage.

I like that Anatole slaps Dolokhov’s ass around here though from our seat it was hard to tell if it was a slap or a grope.

The increasingly frantic motions Anatole makes for Dolokhov to stop talking about his wife

Azudi and Lulu sat next to me during the duel portion and Azudi was acting hyped up and angry. I didn’t realize he gets into a fight with Andrew (if I remember correctly) on the other side of the stage during the stobe portion.

Also, I had read Brittain and Paul mimed having sex during The Duel but I was ill prepared for how much and how many positions they were intimate in. Damn.

This was my first time hearing Dust and Ashes with Dave singing. It’s very different from Josh or Oak (or Scott from what I heard in recordings) but it was still very good because Dave just kind of embodies the awkwardness of Pierre. It ended with applause.

Sunday Morning. GUYS. If you haven’t read the Genius annotations you might not know but PIERRE IS IN THE MIRROR. Such great staging.

Charming is always my favorite. I love watching Amber and Denée spin.

The Ball. So my favorite costume is still Pearl’s (her headpiece is to die for) but I couldn’t see it that closely.

Letters is such a bop. Cathryn was near us at the start and she’s just adorable.

Natasha and Sonya and then Sonya Alone killed me inside. Sonya is TOO good for this musical. She is the one who shouldn’t be here putting up with this crap.

Preparations --> Balaga --> The Abduction were amazing as always.

My favorite is that Nick Choksi yelled “NO!” while his mic was off in response to Anatole’s “If this marriage is invalid then I’m off the hook”. It was the first time I had heard him do that (he also did it Sunday) and I really liked it.

Dolokhov seemed more angry than usual during Preparations. Usually he’s just exasperated but today Nick was extra fierce.

While on stage you can really tell how sweaty everyone is. It’s just wow.

Helene and Marya’s kiss was A++ as always.

Lauren threw a huge pile of War and Peace pages and 90% of them landed on us. Including pages 665 and 666 which are the pages that explain how Pierre determines Napoleon is the anti-christ. I kid you not.

Okay so the conductor actually play a penny whistle during “Dolokhov whistles” super good.

While we’re on the subject of the music. Dave has so many little musical parts while he’s in Pierre’s sadness circlestudy

When Helene sings “Anatole, come Anatole, Anatole hush” there is such an intimate moment between the siblings that happened right next to my seat. Anatole is frantic and Helene has his head in her hands and is whispering comforting words trying to calm him.

When Pierre calls Anatole is shaking his head and Helene tells him he must go (to Pierre) but you can tell it breaks her heart.

Helene continues to have her soul crushed as she watched Pierre and Anatole fight and honestly, I feel so much for Helene in that moment. Amber Gray is just fantastic.

The rest of the show went as usual. Paul jumped a lot of steps for bows.

Stage door was hugely crowded and even that was nothing compared to the next day. Everyone but Brandt, Amber, Denée, Reed, Lulu, Lauren, Shoba, Katrina, Nick Gaswirth (who was out, I think Celia might have been on for him because she was definitely on) came out.

Paloma Young came out and talked to us about our favorite costumes and she signed my book

#Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 #The Great Comet of 1812 #audience reviews

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thumper-darling · 7 years

Note

Will you send 65 questions my way?

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

Oh my gOD YES. What if there is no life apart from my own and every person I come into contact with is just a highly thought out illusion in my head and nothing is real?

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

2. It definitely depends on where I am when it is dark? Like, I’m not going to be scared when it’s dark in my bedroom because I’m comfortable there, but I’m gonna be heckin terrified of the dark if I’m in the woods? You feel me?

3. The person you would never want to meet?

Ronald J. Stump

4. What is your favorite word?

Cluster or Truffle

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?

Birch tree binch

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

“Wow, I really let myself go” :’)

But no, I thought about how I have mascara rings under my eyes but haven’t worn mascara in 2 days and I have for sure showered since then so why in the frickin heck do I have mascara marks under my eyes?

7. What shirt are you wearing?

An old man’s sweater that I thrifted

8. What do you label yourself as?

Interesting? Adventurous? Quirky? I don’t know, what do you label me as?

9. Bright room or dark room?

Dim room

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

Being bullied by @parkersenses

Nah, but I was actually having a deep conversation with my little step-sister about life and school advice.

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far?

12. Who told you they loved you last?

Lulu @doctormelapples

13. Your worst enemy?

McDonald J. Rump

14. What is your current desktop picture?

….

a racecar…

15. Do you like someone?

I really like my doggo

16. The last song you listened to?

Adolescent by Lostboycrow

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

I could never hurt somebody, no way. like, how do you expect me to deal with that radical guilt. my conscience is way too pure for that.

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

I would rather not punch people in the face? Does it count if I answer with who I would like to punch me in the face?

19. If anyone could be your servant for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?

Um, I would want to have Harrison Osterfield be my “assistant” for a day. I would literally just have them hang out with me because I need friendship to thrive

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)

My eyes? or my freckles, even if they are faint

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?

I don’t heckin know what I would look like. Like me but more testosterone? I would like to just live my everyday life, but observe the differences from male and female treatment that’s incorporated in our society.

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

I can juggle really terribly

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?

I’m not afraid of anything

the past coming back to haunt me

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.

Bagel for bread, jalapeno cream cheese, lettuce, tomato, smoked turkey, and havarti cheese

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?

Either on a tattoo, or put it in my college savings. But probably on a tattoo because I have no financial security.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?

Montreal Canada binch. Okay no, but probably like NYC or LA or something super stereotypical like that.

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be?

Mike’s Hard Lemonade for decades. honestly, I love lemonade and those drinks are so heckin tasty.

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?

You have a right to your own opinion, until it infringes on the basic human rights of others. Then ur fined and thrown in jail for being a rude ass disrespectful person thx.

29. What is your favorite expletive?

fuck

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno?

My book “The Perks of Being A Wallflower”

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

The drama that went down with my family last summer and earlier this year

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!

Oooh, maybe London or Barcelona? Or Italy. OH ITALY WOULD BE WONDERFUL

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?

There was a girl who got into a car accident a few weeks ago, I didn’t know her, but I do know that she was 18 and had just graduated Valedictorian of her class. She had a full ride to college, so I think I would bring her back.

34. What was your last dream about?

A hotel room

35. Are you a good….dancer?

THE ANSWER TO THAT IS YES

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?

Ah yes

37. Have you ever built a snowman?

Not well

38. What is the color of your socks?

White.

39. What type of music do you like?

All of it idk

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

sunrises

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?

Vanilla

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)

I don’t know, Michigan State

43. Do you have any scars?

I have a few from accidents when I was younger. I’m a clumsy oof

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?

After I graduate college I’d like to be involved with writing somehow. I really want to work on films or work with manuscripts.

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I’d like to be a more energized person

46. Are you reliable?

I like to think so

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?

Are you happy with your life?

48. Do you hold grudges?

I really try not to. I don’t like to hold on to hatred or anger.

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?

A fox and a golden retriever? That’d be a fun mix

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

I once had a conversation with someone about who had cooler socks? And kept sending pics to each other of our goofy sock collection. That was a strange one.

51. Are you a good liar?

God, I hope so

52. How long could you go without talking?

I once went 24 hours without talking, soooo

53. What has been your worst haircut/style?

I LET MY FRIENDS CUT MY HAIR THE SUMMER BEFORE MY SOPHOMORE YEAR AND I ENDED UP WITH A CHERRY RED ASYMMETRICAL BOB AND IT WAS WAY TOO SHORT FOR MY FACE SHAPE AND IT WAS AWFUL

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?

I cheated and did like an eggless cake or something like that?

55. Can you do any accents other than your own?

Hecking, no. Accents are not my strong suit

56. What do you like on your toast?

Peanut butter or butter with cinnamon sugar

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?

a little doodled heart probs

58. What would be you dream car?

Ford fiesta? Idk

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.

I sing in the shower when nobody else is home. That’s about it.

60. Do you believe in aliens?

YES It is literally impossible that we are the only living and thriving society in the entire universe? Like?? The possibilities are endless.

61. Do you often read your horoscope?

Not always, but if it pops up on my dash I’ll look at it

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?

S or T

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?

Dragons! Was that even a question

64. What do you think about babies?

I get nervous around babies. They’re such small, delicate humans and I feel too much responsibility being around babies.

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.

You didn’t ask anything, so I’ll just tell you about my day?? I had a college freshman event today and I met some pretty cool people and it has me less worried about starting college. I also think I’m gonna read and write a bit today, so I’m pretty excited about that. Also, my mom comes back from out of town in an hour or so and I can’t wait to see her.

#Get to know me #ask

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fictionalrat · 7 years

Text

let it happen | chapter 4

read on ao3

9:40 A.M.

Lance saves the document, closes it, stares at his laptop desktop image until his eyes start to sting, groans in frustration, and slams his laptop shut. Puts it aside. He crosses his arms like a petulant child, he chews on his bottom lip, his eyes roam around his room.

He watches as the wind plays lazily with his curtains, making their shadows dance, swaying back and forth.

Something moves in his peripheral vision. He rolls his head to the side, fingers hovering over the keypad. The sight that meets him makes him pause, his fingers freeze, Keith looks so peaceful, he looks almost… ethereal. It’s kind of disturbing, yet mesmerizing at the same time.

Keith’s pale face glows a tender hue under the morning light, the sun tinges his chapped lips a deep pink, the scar under his left eye looks almost translucent.

Keith’s so… unfairly beautiful.

He catches himself tracing down the slopes of Keith’s face, the lines of his jaw, the curve of his upper lip with his eyes like a piece of chalk on canvas. He’s never seen something quite this stunning before in his life (granted, he’s only 22, but that’s beside the point), if only he knew how to draw like Keith does.

Lance can’t take this, his heart’s too weak.

He wants to bury his face in Keith’s ruffled hair, wants to breathe him in, wants to have him in his arms, wants to touch, but he seems so out of reach like this. Lance curls his fingers into fists, aching to touch. He restrains himself from charting pale, fading freckles down with his fingertips.

It… it’s very distracting, is what it is.

Keith scrunches up his nose, grumbles and throws an arm over his eyes. Lance’s breath catches in his throat.

Lance… Lance is fucked, he knows he’s fucked, he already knew that then (when Keith suggested this… arrangement), he knows that now, he’s known that for some time now, but it never fails to catch him by surprise. This… feeling never fails to overwhelm him. He fucking hates this… whatever this is, he has no fucking word for this… feeling. It claws at his throat, it kicks him the gut, it scorches his heart, it clenches his heart in a death-grip, it steps on it, it rips his heart apart.

Lance covers his face in his hands and rubs, groaning in frustration. This is ridiculous. He forces himself to look away, and focuses on drilling a hole into the wall with the force of his glare instead, running his tongue over one of his canines.

Do not distract yourself with cheesy rom-com bullshit, bitch, he scolds himself, Write. Yes, writing is good. Stressful, but good. Go back to writing. Avoid contact. Don’t look. Avert your eyes. Work. You’ve got work to do, so do it.

After about five or so minutes of glaring despondently into fucking space and hating himself for being pathetic, he does. He’s always been good at taking all his frustrations on his writing.

He pulls his laptop into his lap, opens it, double taps, and the document appears on the screen. The cursor blinks curiously at him, he blinks back, and sighs. He starts scanning it for typos, and corrects them, all the while grumbling about how fucking stupid he is, and how fucking stupid all those mistakes were.

He adds some of the worst expletives in big, bold and italic capital letters next to shitty, weird ass sounding paragraphs that don’t ever seem to get any better, even after rewriting them seven thousand three hundred and eighty-four fucking times. Doesn’t matter how many times he tries, how many times he bangs his fists on the keyboard, how hard he hits the keys, the words don’t ever seem to come out quite right.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

“¡BESA MI CULO, PUTO!” He snaps at one particularly dumb typo, and deletes its whole sentence out of spite.

Keith stirs, and groans next to him, turning his body towards Lance. Lance tenses, holding his breath and sitting very still until he’s super sure, 100% Keith won’t wake up. Keith sighs obliviously in his sleep, and turns on his stomach. Lance lets out a relieved breath, closing his eyes.

He snaps them open and shakes his head in frustration, “No seas tonto, Lance.”

He hits ctrl-z and skips the paragraph entirely, jumping to two paragraphs bellow, he reads it and gasps, “¿Qué carajo? Who wrote this? A fiveslgfjdjdfds.” A hand lands on the side of his face with a smack, smooching his cheek. Lance screams, - of course he does, how could he not. - and almost falls off the bed.

“SHUT YOUR ROTTEN MOUTH, I’M TRYING TO SLEEP,” Keith growls at him, voice raspy, and low, and terrifying. Even muffled by the pillow and drowsy, his voice doesn’t lose its aggressive edge. What the fuck.

Lance, after recovering his soul, turns his head so he can stare at Keith with raised brows, and huffs, “Hella lot of words coming from a sleeping person, I’d say.”

Keith groans and lifts his face off the pillow, glaring at him through squinty eyes, “Shut that fucking trap, you moldy piece of bread, or get out.”

“This is my fucking room, Keith,” Lance sputters, snapping his laptop shut for added effect, “you get out.”

“I’M SLEEPING, PISS OFF,” Keith kicks at Lance’s leg with enough force to bruise.

“OW! CAREFUL WITH MY COMPUTER, YOU BRUTE!”

Keith grumbles, turning his back to Lance and covering his head with Lance’s comforter. He curls into a ball, shutting Lance out.

Lance relocates his grumpy ass to the couch after flipping an oblivious, snoring Keith off.

He loves the guy, but damn, can he be an asshole so-

…Wait, did he just-

Oh, hell no.

10:34 A.M.

stud muffin so………….. do i even wanna know? probably not, but you’re gonna tell me anyway pidge, cover ur eyes

pidgeotto shut up hunk im not 5 GIVE ME DA DEETS LANCE

space boi lance AWWW MAN MY DUDES MY BROS MY PALS MIS HERMANOS

pidgeotto oh boy here we go…….. im regretting this already

space boi lance SHUT IT BIRD TURD anyway where was i before i was so rudely interrupted??? ah yeah OH MY GOD MY DUDES hes a screamer KEITH KOGANE OUR KEITH IS A SCREAMER ITS LIKE AAAAAA GUYS boi so thicc too goddem cant wait to have him up my ass honest such a nice dick 11/10 reallygreat work of art grade a AND DAT ASS!!!!!!!! GUH SO FUCKING SMOOTH he looks really nice when hes sleeping too so soft i want to chomp on his cheeks ughhhhhh how can he be so perfect its so unfair im swooning i swear to GOD he looks hot even when hes kicking me out of my own room which UNFAIR

A facebook notification pops up at the top of his phone screen in the middle of his rant.

Hunk Garrett tagged you in a post, it says.

Lance arches an eyebrow, “Huh.”

He taps it open.

Hunk Garrett is listening to the less i know the better, by tame impala i’d like to dedicate this song to my good pal Lance Martínez you know /why/ Pidge Holt and 5 others

Pidge Holt HOOOOOO BOY THE BURN THATS Y UR MY MAIN HO HUNK I LOVE U

Matthew Holt lol babe look at The Shade Takashi

Takashi Shirogane Ah yes, that is indeed The Shade Of It All *scratches chin* Lance Martínez shiro i love u but dude ure embarrassing get off the internet Matthew Holt dont trash talk the baby lance Matthew Holt he’s sensitive Matthew Holt (ure adorable babe) Takashi Shirogane I take offence to that Lance Takashi Shirogane No more dog memes for you Lance Martínez NOOOOOO DAD NOT THE DOGGO MEMES Takashi Shirogane ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Pidge Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Hunk Garrett ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Matthew Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Lance Martínez u guys are absolute TRASH

Lance Martínez the WORST I TELL U WORST

Lance Martínez I NEED NEW FRIENDS ASAP

Pidge Holt awwwwwwww lance i love u too Pidge Holt u can tell me everything later i’ll allow it Pidge Holt bring food Pidge Holt and redbull Pidge Holt tons of redbull Lance Martínez ure… ugh Lance Martínez i hate u Lance Martínez u tiny bird turd Pidge Holt URE tiny Lance Martínez GASP U TAKE THAT BACK Pidge Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Hunk Garrett ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Matthew Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Takashi Shirogane ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Allura Ourania ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Lance Martínez LULU NOT U TOO Allura Ourania ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

11:35 A.M.

He’s avoiding the huge ass, one-sided, and glittery elephant in the room, he’s avoiding the fuck out of it. He’ll avoid the fuck out of it until it goes away, until it disappears for good, until it goes to fucking hell, until it’s burning in the fifth circle of hell.

He has no time for this.

This project is worth 40% of his grade.

His prof’s a mad man, yeah, but that’s how it is. He won’t flunk this class just because he can’t control his feelings.

He can’t, won’t, jeopardize his project just because of fucking feelings.

¡No, de ninguna puta manera!

He needs a shower.

And a joint.

And coffee.

Tons of coffee.

But a shower first, then facials, then weed, then coffee.

Tons of coffee.

He’ll also down a shot of tequila, because he’s feeling adventurous.

(Reckless, he means reckless.)

1:45 P.M.

Lance’s minding his own business, stirring his way into his fifth?? possibly, probably, he’s not sure, cup of coffee, and stuffing his face with ham and pineapple pizza rolls in the kitchen after smoking a whole joint by himself in the bathroom, when he hears it. It is terrifying. A dull thud reverberates through the apartment, echoed by it; the most earth-shattering, ear-splitting shriek he’s ever heard.

“LANCE!”

He freezes, his heart plummets.

His spoon drops and clatters on the floor.

“LANCE, YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD,” the deity roars.

Lance squeaks like a fucking mice, and squats, hiding behind the counter.

Run. Pack your things and go, get out of town. Flee to Europe, change your name-

He presses his overheated cheek to the counter and sighs, so good. He grins wide.

Keith’s feet smack on the floor as he stomps, over-aggressively, I dare add, out of Lance’s room, “What the fuck did you do to my ass, you rotten egg?” His voice is louder now, much louder. Lance jumps mid giggle-fit, which sets him off into another one.

“ME!” Lance peers over the countertop and raises his hand, waving sluggishly and cackling, bloodshot eyes wide. Well, as wide as they can go, which, honestly, isn’t much, considering, “I DID THE FUCK! I PUT MY DICK IN - HAH - YOUR ASS! YOU LET ME - HAHAH - IT WAS WILD!”

Keith takes a long look at him and, like a flip has switched, his scowl melts and he bursts out laughing, his nose crinkling up. It’s so fucking adorable, Lance’s heart hurts. It burns. It screams in pain. Lance laughs the pain away like the idiot he is, or maybe just because he’s high as fuck. One can never be too sure, ya feel.

“I know that, you fucking stoner, I mean THE BRUISES.” He points at his bare hips, trying to catch his breath.

Lance’s eyes travel south.

Helloooo there, legs.

Wait, he went too far.

Go back two frames.

There, hips.

Lance blinks, and tries to open his eyes further. He can’t.

He blinks again.

Oh.

Ho boy, he did a number on the guy alright.

Also, this part is super wild, bare with him, it looks weirdly… beautiful? It’s gorgeous, actually. It’s a masterpiece, Lance is an artist.

The red and purple splotches scattered across Keith’s skin are… kind of blurring together in one big ass bruise, that reminds him oddly of the Milky Way. Lance fights hard against the white urge to draw an alien-head above Keith’s hipbone. Keith probably wouldn’t mind it, though. The nerd. Lance chuckles.

Keith clears his throat.

Lance flicks his eyes up at Keith, blinks languidly at him several times. Keith’s waiting for something, isn’t he? What is it again? He rakes his brain for an answer. It beeps.

Ah, yeah.

An answer, right. He needs to answer Keith, duh.

Lance cackles at his stupidity.

“Oh, that.” Lance wipes his eyes on his sleeve in between chuckles as he finally answers, sniffing. He braces his arms on the counter and pushes himself up on his feet, winking, “I’m not sorry about that.” He lies his torso on the counter, smooching his cheek against the cool surface, and shoots Keith a lopsided smile.

Keith shakes his head, “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you looooooove me,” Lance sing-songs, finger gunning lazily with a grin.

Keith rolls his eyes fondly, and gets closer, dragging one of the stools from under the counter, and sitting down gingerly, wincing a little. His eyes flicker swiftly to something as he settles, before they land on Lance again. Keith frowns, “Should you be drinking coffee?”

Lance frowns back, puzzled, turning his head so he can look at his mug. “Shouldn’t I?” He wonders.

Keith leans over the counter, elbows propped up, and starts picking idly at one of the pizza rolls sitting pretty on the plate in front of him, “It doesn’t affect your high?”

Lance gasps. His pizza rolls. “No touching, you fugly mullet, it’s mineeeeee,” Lance whines, reaching forward and swatting Keith’s fugly hand away. He snatches the plate from Keith and brings it closer to himself, tucking it in between his arms, away from pizza roll-thieving mullets. Lance sticks out his tongue at him, before fitting two of the biggest rolls in his mouth. At the same time. For emphasis. His cheeks puff out.

Keith ducks his head to hide his grin. “You look like a chipmunk,” he comments nonchalantly, tapping his knuckles idly on the surface.

“Nhobowdshy ashkd yuh, Puhtrish,” Lance shoots back.

Keith rolls his eyes and flips him off with both hands, leaning back on his stool.

Lance flashes him the half-chewed food.

“Fuck, that’s gross.”

“Ah.” Lance struggles to swallow all of it dry, but manages, “I forgot to - clears throat - answer, coffee doesn’t affect my high much.” He shrugs, taking a bite off one of the rolls. Keith hums.

Lance swallows, “Pass me the straw, please. The long, bendy one.” He gestures a thumb back.

Keith slides from the stool in one smooth movement, makes his way around the counter and goes for the drawers. Lance hears as it slides open, “Which color?”

“Purple,” Lance answers over his shoulder.

He stretches his arm when Keith pulls the straw out and makes a grabby hand at him.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Keith holds the straw over his head.

“Gimme, or I’ll punch your di-I-i-aaAAAAAah,” he tries to steal the straw from Keith, but loses his footing and almost dives face-first into the cold, hard floor. “¡Coño!” He fumbles to keep upright, hooking a hand on the edge of the other side of the counter. Thank fuck for long fingers.

Lance manages to get his balance back by planting his feet firmly on the ground. Keith makes his way back to his stool, and once he’s settled, he hands Lance the straw already stretched. Keith’s lips quiver in a poorly concealed attempt not to laugh, eyes twinkling mirthfully.

Lance rolls his eyes as he throws the straw into his cup, propping himself on his elbow and resting his chin on his palm.

Keith makes gagging sounds, bangs falling on his eyes.

Lance ignores him in order to bring the straw to his lips with his free hand, and suck the coffee, swallowing in an obnoxiously loud gulp.

Keith’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “You’re gross,” Keith comments, tucking his hair behind his ears.

“Thanks, I try,” Lance grins around his straw, then frowns at Keith’s bare chest. “Shouldn’t you put on some clothes, though?” Lance asks, eyes half-lidded, “It’s freezing, Keith.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, looking down. “Off-topic, but no, Lance, it’s not,” he shoots Lance a look, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “And how would you know, anyway? You’re high.”

“What’s this jealousy I’m feeling? There’s more, you know.” He pats the breast pocket of his sweatshirt with a dopey smile, and meets Keith’s eyes as he takes a sip, waggling his brows. He swallows and winks, “Don’t need to get all broody on me, grumpy pants.”

Keith hides his face on his arms and groans. Lance can see the blush rising on Keith’s neck, and allows himself a mental pat on the back as he pushes himself upright.

“Okay, let’s go,” Lance trots towards his bedroom.

3:32 P.M.

When they sober up enough to get stuff done, they throw themselves on the couch, legs tangled because why not, right? It’s not like Lance’s life makes any sense, anyway.

Lance with the camera in his hands and laptop on his stomach, Keith with his headphones around his ears, and one of his weird, edgy sci-fi books resting on his thighs.

Lance rests his head on the armrest and hits play.

Keith’s feet tap a comforting rhythm against Lance’s.

4:02 P.M.

Keith falls asleep against the couch, mouth slightly open.

Lance does a poor job at reducing the volume of his laughter at his dramatics on video. Even though Keith’s got his headphones on, Lance still manages to wake him up, and ends up getting kicked in the shin by a very rumpled, grumpy, and over-sized baby with a fugly mullet for that.

He tries not to laugh again.

…He fails miserably, and both his shins suffer.

Terribly.

4:30 P.M.

Because Lance has shit luck, and the universe is out to get him, they didn’t manage to catch Keith’s o-face on video. Life is unfair, God hates him, Jesus hates him, even Buddha must hate him, because this, right here, has got to be some sort of twisted divine punishment. Maybe it’s Karma, maybe he was a murderer in his past life, he doesn’t know. What he does know, though, is that this must be fixed.

“Dude,” he kneels on the couch and shakes Keith’s knee to wake him up, “Dude. DUDE!”

Keith’s eyes flutter open and he squints at Lance, blinking blearily, utterly confused.

Lance sits back on his heels and he offers Keith the camera, “Look.”

Keith, while frowning up at him, sits up and takes it. He yawns, unplugging his headphones from his phone and into the camera. He hits play.

Keith snaps the camera shut after about ten minutes, a furious blush burning his high cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. He still looks mildly confused, though, and astoundingly flustered, bringing his knees to his chest.

Lance bites on his bottom lip and heaves a huge breath. “We’ll have to tape chapter 1 again,” he clarifies.

Keith lifts an eyebrow, face still bright red, “Because…”

“I can’t see your face when you’re coming, dude.” Lance explains, waving his hands at the camera in exasperation, “That’s unacceptable, you know. really preposterous. I can’t have this, I can’t WRITE like this. This is a disaster. We gotta redo this, Keith. It’s a matter of life and death.” He grabs both Keith’s knees and shakes.

“But- I’m awake now, dipshit, quit shaking me,” He snaps, batting Lance’s hands away from his knees, “But… don’t you remember my face when I was actually coming yesterday?”

So, you see… remember when Lance mentioned he has shit luck, and the universe is out to get him, and some sort of divine punishment is being inflicted upon him? There’s another reason to back up that assessment.

They not only hadn’t caught Keith’s o-face on video, but he also didn’t get to see Keith’s o-face in living color yesterday because he had his fucking eyes closed. Which rude, Lance. That is just plain rude. There’s no excuses. That’s probably why God, Jesus, and Buddha hate you this much.

Lance hangs his head. “I- I had my eyes closed,” he confesses, accepting defeat.

“You’re hopeless.”

Lance’s head shoots up and he gasps, “Excuse!”

“No,” Keith stands up abruptly, almost kneeing Lance’s nose in the process.

Lance squawks and reels back, out of reach, eyes wide, “Wha-”

“Shut the fuck up, you dry raisin,” Keith glares accusingly at him and Lance flinches, “I’ll fix this.”

“Kei-”

Keith’s arm shoots up, and he points his index finger at Lance, thick eyebrows pinched. “Stay put,” he warns, waving his finger, “don’t fucking move, don’t breathe.”

Lance is too confused to react, or even say anything, so he just gapes.

“Just… stay there, I’ll be quick.”

Keith returns buck naked, with a dildo and the lube in hands.

Lance’s at a loss, he’s a loss for words, his sass is gone, along with his ability to form coherent thoughts. Keith has that effect on him, apparently. Keith always finds a way to give Lance whiplash.

Keith dumps the stuff on the coffee table and turns his attention to Lance, he chuckles at what he sees there, “Shut your mouth, Lance, you’ll catch a fly.”

Lance finds his voice. “Wha-” he clears his throat, and shakes his head before continuing, “What the fuck?” (Eloquent.)

Keith rolls his eyes as he picks up the camera, “You’re gonna tape me as I touch myself.”

Keith hands Lance the camera.

“I don’t…” Lance takes it, still completely dumbfounded.

Keith cuts him off, “I told you I’d fix this, didn’t I? So this is me, fixing it.”

Something in Lance’s brain seems to click.

“Oh,” he replies dumbly.

Oh no, is what he means, no fucking way. He’s gonna die today.

Yup, today is the day.

“Okay, so…” Keith claps his hands, “scooch over, I need the space.”

Lance’s eyes widen, “You really gonna do this here? On the couch?”

“Is there a problem?”

Yes. There’s a ton of problems, actually. Not with Keith doing it on the couch, but still, there’s a problem. Tons of problems. These problems have problems. For one, Lance will probably die. For two, he can’t do this anymore. He can’t but he has to, and he will because his project is worth 40% of his final grade, he will because he has to. He has the moral duty to prove to Keith, and to himself, that he, as a matter of fact, can do this, even if he’ll end up hurt. Fuck his feelings.

“No, no, nope, no problem at all. I’m all up for jerking off on the couch, sign me the fuck up. It’s just…” Lance blows a raspberry, scratching the back of his head, looking around the room, uncertain. He can’t meet Keith’s eyes, “it looks too cramped, I think? I was just, uhm, thinking that maybe, I don’t know, you’d prefer doing this on a bed?”

Keith snorts, “Nah, it’s okay.”

Lance finally looks at him, searching his face, “You sure? Like, 100%?”

Keith rolls his eyes, “Yes Lance, don’t worry, just… keep the camera on me.”

Lance sits upright, crisscrossing his legs, and points the camera at Keith.

#klance #keith x lance #voltron #vld #klance fic #fanfic #my stuff #sup #weed tw #drugs tw

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jenncognito · 7 years

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The Nine Spell Sisters You’ll Meet in the Cactus Garden of Insta

If you've found this blog lovely, deep down you already know you have a serious problem. It’s cool. As useless as reading this will be to save your wallet, you’ll find some peace in knowing we’re in this together. So let’s get on with the first step in solving acknowledging our shared problem by admitting that some or all of the following shit has been going on lately:

“We”* have been frantically Googling Spell and the Gypsy Collective, Joplin Jacket or worse Spell Xanadu eBay... or even more hopelessly tragic Spell Folktown. We've been waking from dreams of blue skies and going to bed fantasizing about Lotu...actually we don't go to bed - at least not lately. We’re not sleeping much are we? No. We’re up sweating; obsessing over the one that got away... or in all probability will, at the next drop - because our internet isn't fast enough; because 7 seconds is suddenly an eternity during check out; because XS sells out first. Every. Fucking. Time. What we have is full blown PTSD - Post Traumatic Spell Disorder, with more than a healthy side case of drop anxiety.

* Please note the use of the ‘Spell sister we’ here. Much like a ‘spousal we’ this in fact means you.

Sound about right?

Welcome friend. It's nice to have you. You’re safe here. At least until the end of May, when Lotus drops.

Ever wonder how this started? I do (and so does my husband, my wallet and all my abandoned hobbies.)

Since science is ignoring me won’t explain the root cause of my condition, I've been working on a few conspiracy theories to help explain how one innocent retail therapy sesh, consisting of a Route 66 dress, turned into a full blown brand dependency that has me mapping out intricate buying strategies a full 48 - 72 hours before every drop:

Conspiracy Theory 1: Spell infuses their hand drawn fabrics with Stevie Nick's breath which they have bottled into microscopic nanotubes that fit into the heads of sewing needles. After the Australian TGA denied approval on a Stevie Nicks Vape pen, wherein the user would actually inhale the muse’s vocal chord filtered CO2, Spell had a shitload of unregulated gypsy breath on their turquoise encrusted hands. As Spelly and Lizzy are committed to sustainability, they quickly found a way to repurpose this rare and precious resource. The result? Once you start wearing a Spell piece, Stevie’s magical gypsy breath whispers into your pores, delivering you an effortless high that obviously demands you chase it again and again... on the wings of an enormous owl, obviously. Why this is probably true: Look no further than yourself - yes or no, you increasingly find yourself totally down with multiple layers of lace you would have never considered wearing at this age (or since that rad 1990 Jr. Prom dress)? Yes or no, you have found yourself with both a Stevie Nicks and Fleetwood Mac Spotify Channel on endless rotation? Yes or no, when someone mentions the word leather, you blurt the lyrics “take from me my laaaace?” (note: There is actually a Spell Sisters 70’s Festival Jamboree playlist on Spotify. You’re welcome from Lulu Mey, the goddess who created it.)

Conspiracy Theory 2: Spell runs a genius instagram account 782k followers strong and just when you think you can ‘totally survive without another piece from Festival ‘17 BAM - you see it styled on a muse that could easily be you. You could be in Thailand, in that backless Lolita, in front of that waterfall, with those lovely beachy waves in your hair and no shoes because you floated there (on the owl - duh.) In fact it probably IS you… because they plucked that image straight out of your unicorn mind, put a 72% Lark filter on it and fed the ‘travelling you’ right into that instagram channel. They did this as a courtesy ICYMI; you know, all the retargeting ads the other gentle signs reminding you that you actually do NEED this piece in your life and it’s no longer optional. Why this is probably true: because it is true. See: @spell_byronbay.

Pick your theory but the FOMO (Folktown Obsessed Must Own) is real. Obviously, they have put a serious Spell on us - sorry not sorry, pun was too obvious. Show me another brand tribe that feels compelled to share their instant bond on insta when they show up full twinsies at a party (Who wore it best? Both of us! Yay! Love you! Love you more! #twinsemoji) Show me another brand tribe that has women from ages 18 - 81 searching for a magical unicorn in the shape of a mumu. Show me another brand who has more authentically gorgeous UGC. See: #myspellcollection #spelldesigns #spellskirtswish #vintagespell #spellluxelace #spellfestivalstyle

While we share a familiar ache in our wallets and art museums for closets, we’re a globally diverse tribe to be sure. Still yet, with every Spell Sister you meet, you connect with a little piece of yourself, right? Just in case your affliction is fresh and you’re still trying to find your cactus rose footings... Here’s the short list of the nine Spell Sister’s you’ll meet fall in love with in the cactus garden we call Insta (ps, I’m @jennvonhagen )

1) The Unconditional Lover: She buys something from every drop, and even if she's secretly not 100% sure it works on her, she's committed to making it work and her tribe is there to help her rock it hard. Queue the extra large knotted hemline and for God’s sake woman - just belt it. Spell can do no wrong - not even a dress recall phases her - she kept that Blue Skies Maxi Wrap dress, and she wears a kimono made of bubble wrap over it - and somehow it actually works for her - because she belts it.

2) The Fresh Collector: She "just found this new brand OMG" Bae got woke somewhere right after Hotel Paradiso and she can't shut the fuck up about her OZ obsession - because she DISCOVERED it you guys. We don’t blame her for the misconception, we felt EXACTLY the same way. Her insta is full of ‘lowered gaze’ shots that have you wondering WTF she’s staring at. Educated guess - it’s 16 trash bags full of labels she’ll never wear again. Regardless, she looks amazing in that dress, so we don’t give a shit - we welcome her with open kimonos. Babushka was her first ‘fully aware drop’; her collection has a shit ton of it. We’re simultaneously proud and worried, because she has no idea what she’s gotten into.

3) The Hider: Everything is NWT. She hasn’t even worn what she's got, and the challenge of justifying the spend is getting exponential. With her towers of white boxes getting harder and harder to conceal, the Husband is now on to her. Busted a few times during a delivery, she now sends the white boxes to the neighbors house and swears:

“It’s from Target/ I’ve had this forever/I’m borrowing it/Yay Swapped!”

(Rejoice hiders: the boxes are being transitioned out. You’ll no longer have to hide them - now you can simply obsess over collecting the cute new calico bags.)

4) The Girl Next Door: Nobody knows what she does for a living, but apparently she lives at Spell. I mean right inside the fucking Byron store... 12 minutes after a drop goes live, she's #spellswishing in the latest sold-out-soon-to-be-Unicorn. We hate her. Just kidding we love her. Just kidding we want to be her. Just kidding, we’ll settle for a sleepover - in her bohemian yurt, which is probably located right outside Spell’s cactus garden.

5) The Historian: Her collection dates back farther than Gypsy Queen and she probably has that first Sugarhigh+Lovestoned tee they styled the early jewels with in a safety deposit box. She can recite the name of every collection and every piece in it. She can spot fakes too, because she knows exactly when the logo lock up changed thanks to Rachel Pony Gold (circa April/May 2012). She indulges in the bootstrapped sisterly romance of it all. Damn right she owns the book; it’s signed - obviously.

6) The Cheerleader: She likes EVERY photo with Spell in it, and she will tell you you look GORGEOUS every single time she sees you on Insta because she believes that you have a beautiful unicorn soul. “You in that Sunset Road + Festival ‘16 mashup = AMAZING!”

She imagines you in your private cactus garden teaching your children how to hand letter affirmation mantras and macrame their own diapers as you sip organic kombucha and braid your bestie’s hair. She loves you. So. Fucking. Much. Her pronouns are heart eye emoji and kiss emoji.

7) The Impulse Buyer: constantly swears to God and all that is will-powerful that she WILL. NOT. CAVE to the next drop. She is going to be practical for fuck’s sake. (Yah, Lotus has alot of yellows and olives.. I’m more of a “summer”) But then she buys the Joplin Jacket because Florida winters are “brutal”. She has a large return shipping bill, admits that this is merely an endless paypal exchange and knows the Customer Service Angels by name (Oh, hey Angela). She uses the RA form and chat feature to send them love notes and see how they’re holding up after each drop.

8) The Wing-Woman: you either are one, have one - or both. She’s as hardcore as you are and she doesn’t judge your illness. You both have issues. This is the person you spend hours strategizing with before every drop. You two have your own kind of math and it’s harder to follow than ‘conceptual math. But this secret Spell math is a thing of fucking beauty: no matter what the equation, you always get the answer you want:

”Ok, I returned my Blue Skies Wrap, so I have a credit, plus what I saved on the Babushka Midi equals the price of the Joplin …. I’m net zero!”

You size up the line, screen shotting Snapchat and teasing each other via text. You pro/con every piece based on some fictional, rational version of you that “doesn’t need another gown, but needs to go with 2 piece sets you know, for more daily use.” (Um, sure - whatever you need to tell yourself hun.) If you’re on vacay during the drop, she’s got your back - as in your paypal payback - unconditional support is just a click away. She’s also hunting unicorns for you on the side and blowing you up on text in the middle of the night with buyer’s guilt (note the lack of remorse. There is never remorse, just fleeting guilt and temporary indulgence shaming for going overboard with both the Stardust Cami AND the Jacket “I’m a living Goddamned disco ball, WTF have I done? But I lurrve them.Yay me!)

9) The Unicorn Hunter: She’s next level obsessed, willing to throw cash and half her current Spell stash at the "last ever of it's kind, ever." ‘Evil-bay’ is alternately her nemesis, and her reluctant savior. After multiple talks off the Buy It Now button and pleas to her practical side, she eventually caves for her Unicorn, pays an obscene price and then never takes it off. See: Anything Folktown or a Xanadu Maxi Dress on eBay/Poshmark/Depop/Facebook Swap & Sell insert streaming tears emoji + unicorn emoji

As different as we may be - there’s something beyond swirling around in art that pulls us together. Perhaps it’s the addictive cocktail of anticipation + adrenaline + winning. Even as we’re confident that Spelly, Lizzy and all the Angels are sorting through the surprise growing pains, deep down we know there’s a small part of us that will miss bonding/sweating/crying over the chaos. More likely though, it’s the authentic friendships formed while supporting each other. ( I just heard a story from two best friends who met via a hashtag. They live a world apart, but talk every day.)

While I can't offer a cure (because Lotus/May/God help us), we can still justify our spending take comfort in knowing we’re not alone. (Or maybe that just adds to our stress because at least 20K+ of us have the notifications turned on for an intense Facebook page where we channel our obsession into smarter ways to buy/sell or swap more pieces.) Either way - rejoice in the Spell Sisterhood - our love runs deep, our tribe is epic and your OOTD is eternally on point.

PS - does anyone have a Turquoise Folktown Skirt and Top set in XS? Seriously, I die.

Note: You can follow more of the saga on Insta @jennvonhagen After I wrote this blog, I stumbled upon a hilarious thread on the Facebook Spell Designs Buys Swap and Sell page where fellow sisters are sharing their legit addiction and proven survival techniques. I’m currently interviewing for a follow up to this post, where I’ll share stories from all nine types of sisters. If you identify with one or more of the above, comment with your number(s) and if you’d like to be a part of the next post, message me here, on Insta or email me at [email protected]

#spell and the gypsy collective #spell #brand #fashion #tribe

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noplanwithavan · 7 years

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WISH YOU WERE HERE

There’s been a touch of holiday season “hiraeth” these last few weeks. Or perhaps that’s disingenuous. It’s not the motherland we miss. We cannot lay claim to that evocative welsh term for longing. Ours is more a background hum - a pang of kinship for the traditions and people of home. Christmas time will do that to you. When the strength of familial bonds tug most keenly. Yet there has been enough to lessen the strain - many friends - old, new and acquired have helped to see us through.

First there was the Osman family whom we met on the Costa Brava at the start of our journey. We’d kept in touch as we knew they would be heading south for the winter, and managed a rendezvous at a campsite outside Caños de Meca. Unlike us they hadn’t gone down the route of wild camping. Their smaller van with a large tent in tow ruled out that option. Instead they’d stuck to campsites - a more expensive, yet undeniably less smelly existence. We spotted their flower-powered van on our approach and followed, whopping, hooting and waving with glee. Despite only having spent a few days together 3 months ago, they felt like long lost friends. Bonded by that peculiar camaraderie which comes from shared experience. The girls picked up with their kids Nancy and Dolly where they left off. Trotting, free-wheeling and carousing around the campsite. All chitter chattering as they shared stories. Rain set in for a few days, but we countered it by hunkering down in the Osman tent. Gossiping and catching up. The adults drinking wine, while the young ones put our distraction to good use. Before we realised what game they were playing, it seemed too late to stop it - dress the parents up in the children’s clothing. Unsurprisingly Elsie got very absorbed in her role as stylist. A particularly fetching ruff was selected for Nancy and Dolly’s dad, Jay, which gave him the air of a Spanish reconquistador. She paused to weigh up the effect of her composition, but seemed unsatisfied. Clearly this was not quite the look she had in mind. Disappearing briefly into the deeper recesses of the tent, Elsie emerged moments later with a triumphal look. Rapidly, layers were added - to the face, and hands. She stepped back quizzically to admire her work, and smiled. The masterpiece was complete. With hands now bound in submission, Mr Osman was transformed - no longer a knight of the Spanish Golden Age. More like a detainee from Guantanamo Bay.

As we parted, Marcus joked we’d have to find more friends in time for Christmas. And in fact, this proved remarkably easy. Rolling our way back down the coast, we made for Tarifa. That wind-sock of a kite-surfing mecca, luring you in with its laid-back charm. We’d heard there was a good free camping community at Playa de los Lances. Surely our best shot at making festive friends. After searching for a few days without success, Marcus suggested trying down one of the many beach-side tracks. One clearly declaimed itself a campervan-free zone, with a hard-to-ignore “No Acampar” sign in large lettering. Venturing on through the umbrella-shaped pines, we broke out onto a runway lined with mobile homes. This was van heaven, curving off into the distance. With a collective gasp, it was clear. We were hit with a serious case of vehicle envy. It’s hard not to marvel at human inventiveness at such moments. The sheer cornucopia of self-sufficiency in all shapes and sizes. Big wheels, graffiti spray-jobs, even patio doors out the back. All these configurations and compromises tailored to individual need.

We celebrated the girl’s 6th birthday here, foregoing presents for an “experience” instead. After some discussion they settled on a rock climbing lesson over horse riding on the beach. It proved an education all round; the parental art of butting right out. Scaling a 40 foot rock face in nearby Bettis, Elsie baulked at the prospect of letting go to abseil down. Contradicting everything she’d ever been taught, the instructor Chris was now explaining how to let go and lean right back. She was not at all keen to put her untested faith in a rope. Sensing panic, Marcus and I tried to help, bellowing up instructions like, “Move your leg over to the right. No, not that right, the other right.” This didn’t help. We were merely fuelling the flames, a volley of overlapping commands fired at cross purposes. That was until Chris turned to us diplomatically, with the words, “I think it would help if you just let me do the talking.” Enough said. He had her down in a jiffy. From a quivering jelly back to full bravado, all in the space of a few feet. And busting to do it all over again.

During our time in Tarifa we acquired a favourite pitch at our camping spot. That curious desire to lay claim even amongst a free-for-all. If we went for the day we’d leave behind a few possessions - chairs, clothes hung out to dry. And there was good reason. Not wanting to lose our place beside the big blue bus. When we first arrived we noticed it had the tell-tale sign we tend to home in on - a child’s bike mounted on the back. Sure enough, 3 year-old Bonnie soon burst forth, wearing baggy pants and a sweet, diffident smile. Within minutes that immutable call to friendship between children had been uttered and answered. The girls disappeared inside her bus. And that was it. We had neighbours. And what’s more neighbours with extended family. A few days later Hilary and Richard, Bonnie’s Grandma and Grandpa, showed up. Swinging by in style with their vintage VW van. This was, it seems, a grand tour en famille. We stayed put, cooking together and sharing food on Christmas Day, happy to be part of this warm solidarity. Hilary and Richard provided an indulgent treat for the girls - spearheading craft sessions on the beach and trips to pick edible mushrooms. After a week Elsie and Lulu were even calling them Grandma and Grandpa, exchanging christmas cards and involving them in parental confidences. Waving hello one morning Hilary chuckled knowingly as she shared, “You can’t tell children anything can you?” I must have looked puzzled, for she added in a conspiratorial whisper, “Just so as you know…we DO have a toilet.” Blushing furiously I could hear my mind whirring…back to that conversation days ago with the girls. The one that went:

Lulu - “I like their orange van. It has nice curtains. It’s pretty cool isn’t it? Me - “Well yes VWs are good to look at, but frankly they’re not very practical. I mean it’s very small. They probably don’t even have a toilet in there.”

Repeated verbatim to the subject in question…thanks a lot kids.

Social indiscretions aside, we would have loved to stay, but Boxing Day brought with it a new chapter. Friends from the old country - the Bulloughs - were coming out to see us. The girls were crackling with excitement. I’m not sure which was more of a novelty - welcoming the first pals to have made it out to join us along this journey, or ditching the camper van and living it up in a flat for 12 days. Sadly I fear it may not have been the relaxing holiday Tom, Charlie, Edwyn and Alice envisaged. All 8 of us squeezed into a small apartment, with Elsie and Lulu clearly the more noisy and boisterous half of their merry band. But it was fab. And as a city Cádiz is hard to beat. This is Spain at it’s most Spanish. We were in the heart of the old town. Crammed into a spit of land, with the port on one side, and sweeping beaches the other. Looking out from up high there is a maze of flat roof-tops, intersected at points by over 100 watchtowers. Faded relics from a more prosperous past. Then stepping outside you’re thrown headlong into a warren of wide, criss-crossing streets teeming with life. I had the unshakeable sense that whole lifetimes are lived within just a few yards. The same faces seen day after day within invisible boundary lines - hawking their wares or pacing the plaza. It was truly an enchanting, beguiling place. Having been told from Grandma Ros that Rick Stein had done a programme on Cádiz, Marcus assiduously followed all of Rick’s food recommendations. And we weren’t disappointed, gulping down sherry, seafood and churros. Bizarrely the only time when people didn’t appear to be out and about, drinking and eating at all hours, was New Year’s Eve. We’d read that Spanish people celebrate with their families until midnight, and only come out much later. Having managed to stay awake until 12.30, we reasoned things would surely have begun to heat up by now. The odd bar perhaps cracking open to offer a sliver of comfort. Maybe even the faint strains of “auld lang syne” calling us forth. But no, the whole place was a ghost town, shutters drawn over large silent windows. If we’d kept prowling the pavements till 2am perhaps we’d have seen a party, but tired and despondent it was just easier to go to bed.

But if welcoming in 2017 was a little restrained, our epiphany was soon to come. Christmas Day is no big deal in Spain. The real festivities are geared towards the Magi. The 3 Kings visiting baby Jesus on January 6th. It wasn’t always easy to coax 4 kids around the city. To avoid the many glittering temptations in every doorway. Constantly beset by stops to the playpark or the irresistible giant magnolia trees. Their trunks inviting exploration, with bark the texture of an elephant’s hide. But if we’d tried we wouldn’t have been able to drag them home on the night of January 5th. Despite multiple separate breakdowns, all 4 refused to abandon their place behind the barriers lining Plaza de España. This was the mother of all fiestas. The Magi were on their way. A brass band heralding a cavalcade of flotillas snaking its way towards us, releasing a collective frenzy amongst the crowd. Small Spanish bodies surged forwards, elbowing their way past us, screaming “Acquí, acquí!” as thousands of sweets rained down. We tried to get a look at the girls faces, to see their reactions to this bubble-gum exuberance. But we couldn’t see them - shielded by the youthful melee they were scrabbling desperately all around - on the floor, under the barriers - for whatever pickings they could get. “Did you like that?” we asked later. “That.. was the best night of my life - EVER!” beamed Lulu.

Leaving Cádiz it was tough to say goodbye to the Bulloughs. But we were also hankering to be back on the open road and in the camper van once again. The last few days have been peaceful, sun-filled and happy. Hanging out along the Costa de la Luz - the surf spot El Palmar, Conil, and Vejer de la Frontera. And the hand of friendship has once again played its part. Big thanks to Ivan Black back home for putting us in touch with his great mates Sarah and Camden out in Vejer. Former Londoners who’ve been living in Spain for the last 12 years, we hit it off straight away. We ended up parking in their garden and had a fabulous day sharing great food, company and the delights of a washing machine and shower. Sarah even threw in a yoga lesson. New friends, old friends, friends not just for Christmas. It’s all good, and it’s set us in great stead for our next big leap. Across the water to Africa - Morocco here we come!

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