#He helped Grandma take out a bulldozer and now this is how he will be remembered?

[bonefall]

How was the Mousefur “mixed” clan meeting received in BB!?

Mmmmmmmmmmmbadly

Dustpelt, Mousefur, and Thornclaw took reputation hits for the stunt. ThunderClan is the Fire Alone Clan and they got up there to put forth concerns about kittens. Lil baby kittens.

They ended up getting shouted down, any cats who leaned Traditionalist were probably willing to admit "concerns" in private, but the minute someone like Squirrelflight bellows, "BOOO" and her buddies join in it's pretty hard to argue against an angry crowd.

I need to find a better way to word this but someone should get a little bit of a sassy moment, "let's go chuck the kittens in the lake so we can unlock Queen’s Rights 2"

If Frostfur is still alive at this point, she is incredibly disappointed. She probably talks to both Thornclaw and Dustpelt about it privately, but somehow, she expected it of Thornclaw who hung out with Grandma Speckletail too much.

Dustpelt?!

"No, please, don't speak just listen. I want you to think about Ravenpaw. Do you remember what Tigerclaw made us believe about him? How they made you think he inherited more of your Honor Sire than you? So that everyone believed he was a weakness to purge for being too mixed? ...I was reminded of that, today."

Lays awake that night next to Ferncloud, unable to sleep, SUPER embarassed and hot with shame. It dawns on him that Tigerclaw probably targeted his in-law Brindleface because she agreed to suckle Cloudkit and also had an Honor Sire for Fern, Elder, and Ash.

Thornclaw never gets an apprentice after the stunt, Spiderleg is permanently his only. He realizes that he blew his chance at deputyship under Firestar FOREVER by backing up Mousefur's impromptu rally, and is one of the Dark Forest's first targets when they start recruiting in Po3.

Mousefur retires, feeling old, tired, and being publically shot down BADLY.

[gumnut-logic]

Food in the Tracy household is a fugitive thing.

It has been known to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. It has been known to be squirrelled away as if a billionaire or six may suddenly run into famine. It has been known to be spooned gently into a sick family member.

It has been known to be wrapped in decorative paper and handed over as gifts.

Yes, food is very popular in the Tracy household.

Well, all the food that wasn’t cooked by Grandma that is.

Why does Grandma continues to cook ghastly concoctions even though everyone in the building, including the many appropriately positioned pot plants, knows that it is a major failing on her part? Only Grandma knows.

Virgil suspects it is simply out of love and a need to show how much she truly cares.

Alan secretly suspects it is a long term plan to summon a demon.

In any case, it is highly recommended to all guests that their grandmother’s cooking be avoided.

Or exorcised, according to Alan.

Each of the boys has their favourite foods of course and each their own quirks at consuming them.

Scott is efficient. That is the only word that can really be applied. He’s a busy man. Food is necessary. It gets eaten. His tastes are simple and easy. It’s food, he’s hungry, get out of my way, Gordon.

He can knock some eggs up, a good sandwich…don’t let him near the barbecue unless you desire charcoal for your meal. Seared steak apparently comes in shades of black.

Virgil, on the other hand, loves a good meal. Sure, he’s a busy man too, but there is a lot of him needing feeding and he has been known to take those few extra minutes over a meal just to enjoy it. A snooze afterwards never hurts. Digestion is something one’s body should enjoy.

Never get between Virgil and his meal. You may be bulldozed. Politely bulldozed, but flattened nonetheless. He’s a busy man. This is his time with his food, don’t interrupt, Gordon, shut up.

Virgil can cook. As long as it is steak.

There have been wars fought over the barbecue between the two eldest brothers.

Do not touch Virgil’s steak.

Particularly if you are Scott.

John appreciates a fine meal. Of the five brothers, he is the one who will know about the wine. He’ll know which region it came from, what it should be eaten with and which year grew the plant it was made from. This, of course, means he is the most likely culprit to steal Scott’s boutique beers out of the fridge…to the point that one of the first signs of the middle brother being back on Earth is the sudden missing bottles from said refrigerator.

Virgil thinks it is hilarious.

Scott’s worried his brother is a secret alcoholic and keeps monitoring his intake.

Alan keeps messing with Scott’s head by pinching extra bottles to ‘up John’s intake’.

Gordon messes with everyone by refilling the bottles with apple juice.

But yes, John is the one to appreciate a good meal, most likely because he has to eat all that space crap eighty percent of the time.

Virgil likes to make sure his brother gets a treat from time to time.

So John gets gifted lots of steak.

Alan is fed and watered regularly. With four older brothers, a sister and a grandmother, it is not like he has any choice. The appropriate quantities of vegetables and fruit are provided daily and his consumption noted. Any diversion from the menu is queried thoroughly and a health assessment performed, usually by a pair of stern blue eyes that take their responsibility ever so seriously.

Too bad those eyes have yet to work out that quite a bit of that food is delivered to the two pet hamsters he has stashed in his room. Also Buddy and Ellie consume a diet not recommended by any vet on Planet Earth.

Buddy and Ellie have been eyeing the hamsters for quite some time and are happy Alan is fattening them up.

The hamsters agree with Alan regarding Grandma’s cooking and often mistake Gordon for the demon she is apparently attempting to summon.

Alan doesn’t mind his diet too much. He knows his brothers just love him to death and the feeling is mutual. Plus Kayo slips him junk food on a regular basis. How she got hot churros to the Island still hot, he has yet to work out…Shadow is fast, but really?

As for Kayo, she eats what she wants to eat. No one is going to argue with her. Hey, you want the last pancake, be my guest, here have the maple syrup. After all, she did get her nickname from the big blowout of 2049. One cupcake, five skittle brothers and a very hungry young female bowling ball. Hey, you try growing up in a house full of men and boys. It is either kick ass or have yours handed to you. Gordon, touch that and you die.

Don’t mess with Kayo. Regarding food, or any topic for that matter. Just don’t mess with her. Take her name as a warning and stand back.

No one is quite sure what Grandma eats. Alan is pretty sure it isn’t her own cooking otherwise how could she have possibly lived this long? Virgil keeps an eye on her, makes sure she is happy and content and has everything she needs. Gordon once tried scientific method on his grandmother and her food consumption, leaving several tempting tidbits around the place fixed with sensors to see which would take her fancy. Results were inconclusive since Alan ate half the experiment.

Virgil poured pink dye in the pool and the hypothesis was abandoned.

Brains is the trash can of the Island. He will eat anything put within arm’s reach. The engineer finds food an inconvenient bodily function and often won’t stop working to fulfil his body’s needs. Food appears beside him, the one neuron not focussed on whatever he is doing declares the food his and it is consumed efficiently.

Virgil quickly learnt to keep his lunch out of Brains’ reach when they are working together. One too many instances of going hungry because of grabby food hands taught him quickly.

Gordon, of course, thinks it is hilarious. The aquanaut once sat quietly beside the working engineer and managed to feed him an entire cheesecake piece by piece.

Scott was not impressed when Brains threw up on his shoes fifteen minutes later during his maintenance report. Gordon, go to my office, now!

And that leaves Gordon.

Gordon is a seagull. If you’ve got it, he wants it, and he will nag you until you give it to him.

Of course, this doesn’t prevent him from acquiring his own. Seagulls are scavengers after all. Then he will sit at the table with his plate or bowl of whatever and quite calmly sit there pinching things off your plate.

Whether he does this to amuse himself, or he has a psychological disorder, none of the brothers have bothered to investigate. It’s just Gordon, slap his fingers as needed. Of course, Kayo doesn’t have a problem. No one would dare steal from her plate.

Well, he did try once. Most people think the scar on his hand is just one of those from the hydrofoil accident.

It isn’t.

Of course, there was the time where he ate the steak Scott and Virgil were arguing over. They didn’t realise it until a full ten minutes later, by which time Gordon was no longer in the room, taking the digesting steak with him.

Grandma got to bake him a cake for that one.

But yes, in general, food in the Tracy household is a little chaotic. There have been death threats, mild bruising, profanity, theft, slander, the occasional all out war and sometimes a whole pile of mischief. But honestly, under it all? There is a whole pile of love. Because push comes to shove, each and every Tracy, by name or not, will give their all to help another.

And that includes food.

Though Grandma’s cookies have been declared lethal weaponry and throwing one results in mandatory dish duty for a month. Gordon, for the love of everything, put that down now!

-o-o-o-

[c-c-cherry]

OOH I GOT A GOOD REQUEST,,,, How about Jonathan’s reaction to each of the jojos, and their jobros?

*Jonathan looking down at his absolutely fucked family tree, a single tear running down his cheek*

Listen...I always say that *insert literally any character* is the best parental figure but it's Jonathan hours which legally means I can call Jonathan best dad in this post regardless of anything I’ve said in the past about any other best dads.

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Lemme just implement my soft Jonathan headcanons first: 

-Soft man. The king of manly tears. Tears down toxic masculinity like a fucking bulldozer

-Knits AND crochets. He never had a mother growing up so when Erina came in with all these lovely, traditionally feminine skills, he wanted to learn ALL OF IT

-Arguably gives the best hugs out of every Jojo (Josuke is a pretty close second, though)

-Since this post is just an impossible dimensional pocket where anything can happen, him and Erina live in one of those old grandma cottage-houses with a comfy, old couch and tacky curtains and a really cute little garden

-Again, if this is a pocket dimension he’s definitely hosting the Joestar family reunion there

-Just one of those houses where everyone feels comfortable

-Is impossible to piss off (except if you do anything to the people he loves)

-Always speaks in a very soft, understanding voice even when he’s mad/disappointed

-The father figure all the Jojos wish they had

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Part 2:

-You know that face you make when you watch someone you love do something insanely stupid but you’re still trying to keep positive because you know from experience that trying to stop them is futile?

-Just this constant, wincing smile?

-Yeah. That pretty much sums up Jonathan’s expression within any vicinity of Joseph Joestar

-He loves the man. He really does. But oh my god is he a dumbass

-Jonathan is the type of man to like,,,make bread and talk about his feelings but Joseph wants none of that shit and that’s ok,,,Jonathan can and will find another way to bond

-Regardless, he loves his Himbo grandson and the two of them end up talking about Erina and Speedwagon and a lil bit of Hamon too :3

-CAESAR on the other hand—Jonathan is so fucking happy to see a descendant of the Zeppeli’s continuing the whole Hamon thing and managing to be friends with Joseph

-Although Joseph never wants to talk about it outside of fighting, Jonathan and Caesar both share this tender love for the healing aspect of it :’)

-He teaches Caesar how to do stuff like grow/heal plants and flowers and Caesar ends up growing his own sunflowers in Jonathan’s backyard :)

-Smokey reminds him of Poco and he literally just wants to protect him with his whole heart hhhhhhhh

-Suzi Q also reminds him of Erina, but he still has no idea how she puts up with Joseph’s bullshit (and whenever she can’t decide what to wear, he always helps)

-He penalizes Lisa Lisa for being a fucking Hamon coach and also smoking cause like-

Part 3:

-Hgggghnn HEAR ME OUT but between him and Joseph, Jotaro arguably has more qualities of Jonathan including this wonderfully secret, sweet, sensitive side

-Jonathan grows flowers using Hamon and braids them into Star Plat’s hair (he has practice when doing it with Erina) :))))

-Joot claims to hate the bread that Jonathan bakes but if he DOES make it y’all know you’ll find him sitting there, eating it, and talking about his feelings like a good man should (but only if no one else is around)

-Arguably the only responsible father figure in his life and the only one who would scold him for literally going to jail

-Also apologizes profusely for not killing DIO the first time ;(

-Kakyoin is the kind of person you could just sit in silence with for hours doing shit like reading or painting or something and Father Jojo is loving the vibe

-YES JONATHAN WOULD HAVE A HOME GARDEN and every year he grows cherries for Kak >:)

-Pol is a bit extreme for him, but if he can handle Joseph then he can handle this man

-As rich, Victorian boys often did, he definitely studied french as a kid and can surprisingly hold a pretty good conversation

-Him and Avdol!!!! Feed his chickens together!! And engage in lovely, civil conversation :)))))

-Holy definitely inherited Jonathan and Erina’s sweet nature and she’s always down to compare knitting techniques with him :)

Part 4:

-Is it....is it safe to say that Jonathan just adopts all of Morioh?

-Ok but Josuke gets along with everybody (Rohan doesn’t count hgfjgh) so you already know he’d be up for some nice familial bonding (though he wouldn’t show it initially)

-I feel like he’d be hesitant at first because him and Joseph are already on weird terms and he doesn't wanna “intrude” on the Joestar family or anything like that

-But our man Jonathan is here to reassure him that he’s still a part of the family and his cute little grandma house door is always open for him when he needs it

-Jonathan would bake that bread and Josuke would be sittin’ on that couch pouring his heart out before that shit even comes out of the oven

-Josuke’s the biggest out of his friends so getting completely engulfed in a nice, warm, loving Jonathan hug is the best shit

-Like instant serotonin :)

-Crazy Diamond doesn’t have any hair so no stand braiding :( BuT Josuke will let his hair down sometimes and you already know master weaver Jonathan Joestar is braiding in some purple flowers and shit :)

-Okuyasu isn’t that smart academically, but our man has a big heart and that’s all Jonathan cares about

-Jonathan always makes soup for him whenever he’s down because Oku’s mama used to make him soup when he was sad too ;-;

-The two bond over losing a mother at a young age and never being close with their father and feeling unwanted growing up and its the sweetest shit

-Koichi would just,,,,stare in awe because between Jonathan, Joseph, and Jotaro he feels like a fucking ant (and is honestly kinda scared)

-The first time they meet, Jonathan tries to ruffle his hair and accidentally PUSHES THE BOY INTO THE CONCRETE and he feels so bad after, that he spends all night knitting him a new sweater

-He gives it to Koichi with apologetic tears in his eyes and Koichi fucking LOVES IT with all his heart

-Rohan is extremely intrigued by all of this shit and they two of them spend hours talking about Jonathan’s life

-Rohan ends up giving him a painting of Erina and now Jonathan sends him his favourite cookies on his birthday every year

-Also him and Tonio are real good buds and Tonio never yells at Jonathan for “eating impolitely” like George used to because he knows its just a sign that he loves his food :)

Part 5:

-What can I say? Both Jonathan and Giorno got a love for flowers and life, and that’s literally all they do together

-Like,,,their happiness is in one giant, contagious loop because when Jojo’s really happy, his Hamon will just make shit bloom everywhere and when Giogio is happy, his stand will go fucking bonkers and change shit into plants

-Ok but what if,,,they braided flowers into each other’s hair? :D

-Jonathan would bake the bread. Giorno would sit hesitantly on the couch. The moment this kid takes a bite with that GOOD jam he’s like “HAHA there goes my stoic front whoops-”

-Jonathan thought Giorno would get cold in the winter so he crocheted a heart the size of his tiddy window and gave it to him for Christmas

-As I said previously, him and Bruno would go fucking hard on tea parties and all that shit -Both are the obvious mom friend, it’s impossible for them not to get along

-Abba’s a little,,,iffy about him, but eventually grows on him the more Abbacchio actually starts warming up to Giorno (for whatever reason)

-Jonathan’s never really had to deal with teenagers that much (aside from when he was one himself,) so he really has no idea what the hell to do around Narancia and Mista because they’re so young and he feels like a fucking grandma around them

-But they’re always really sweet to him and ask if he wants to play COD but Jonathan has no idea why they could wanna play with a fish so he just smiles and laughs and hopes its a joke :’)

-When Trish wants her nails done, best jonadad is here to do it. She wants her hair done? Jonathan’s got that special brush that doesn’t hurt when you’re doing tangles. Hugs? Infinite hug supplier, babey. He’s really out here doing whatever it takes to keep best girl happy

-Fugo is,,,quiet,,,but he always comes over and eats the strawberries in his garden when they’re ready for harvest

-He even helps make them into jam :)

-He also teaches Fugo Hamon breathing techniques when he caught wind of his anger and it actually helps him a lot

-He considers everyone in that house his family too, and always invites them over for social events at his pocket dimension grandma house

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Jonathan Joestar lives in my head rent free...

If you’ve got a head canon idea, my ask box is always open!! <3

[selene-tempest]

Mud bath.

"Erm..." Selene blinked, not really knowing what to say.

"I know."

"It's just that..."

"I said I know!"

"There's just so much..."

"I get it!"

"That's gonna take some scrubbing."

"I'm aware of that fact," Kayo's curt reply held a definite tone of warning.

Selene couldn't blame her, not really. She was covered from head to toe in mud, the dirt clinging to her skin, soaked into her hair and Selene was pretty sure she'd heard the sound of squelching whenever the other woman moved.

"Do you need any he-"

"I've got it, thanks." Kayo turned her back, walking stiffly from the hangar to the adjoined showers, knowing that Grandma would pitch a fit if any of them traipsed mud up to the main house.

Dismissed, Selene gave up the battle, knowing that Kayo, more than anyone, had moments where she just wanted to be left alone.

-x-

"Anyone seen Kay?" Virgil asked later that night when they were all in the lounge, spread out across the sofas in what Jeff called Sloth mode. Nothing was moving them short of an emergency call, which they all desperately hoped wouldn't happen.

"Not since we got back," Gordon answered. "She said she was pretty tired, maybe she went straight to bed?"

"Without eating?" Selene's inbuilt need to care for those around her pinged into life.

"I'm sure she'll get something if she's hungry," Gordon shrugged, not taking his eyes off the show on the holoscreen.

"Don't be mean," Selene swiped at his shoulder. "How would you like it if you got back and no one fed you?"

"It happens all the time," he protested.

"Not while I'm here," she said firmly. "I'm going to go and check on her."

"Your funeral."

It took her very little time to rustle up some left over mac and cheese and she took it, along with a glass of milk, up to Kayo's room.

She knocked on the door but got no answer.

"Come on, open up, I've brought you some food."

"I'm not hungry," floated through the door.

"Don't give me that shit, you haven't eaten since breakfast."

Nothing.

"It's mac and cheese," she wheedled.

Selene heard a sigh of defeat, followed by shuffling footsteps coming closer to the door.

"I'm warning you now," Kayo said through gritted teeth, "you'd better not laugh."

Selene frowned. What was there to laugh about?

"Promise me."

"Erm... OK, I promise not to laugh."

The door opened slowly, just enough for Selene to squeeze through, slamming shut behind her the moment she was inside the room.

"Where shall I put this..." Selene trailed off, catching sight of Kayo for the first time. "Oh lawd."

"Don't. Laugh."

"I wasn't going to!" Selene slid the tray of food onto the bedside table and turned to get a closer look.

"Yeah, right. I know how it looks, I've looked in the mirror."

"I honestly wasn't going to," Selene assured her. And she hadn't been. Her poor friend didn't need teasing, she needed help. Badly.

Her hair, that beautiful, thick, naturally shiny hair that Selene secretly lusted after but couldn't get without a mountain of products, looked like shit. There, she said it, even if it was just in her own head. It was fluffed up beyond all recognition, a mass of tangles and frizz the likes of which Selene had never seen.

"I'm sorry, I gotta ask..."

Kayo folded her arms, tapping her foot, daring Selene to say something shitty.

"How the hell did that happen?"

"I don't know," Kayo huffed. "I know my ponytail got loose from my helmet, that's never good because it gets all tangled then. Then the band snapped and it was a lost cause."

Selene nodded, she'd had a similar experience with her hair coming out of the back of her jacket while riding on the back of her Dad's motorbike and it had taken her and her mum the best part of an evening and two washes to get it untangled again.

"I've washed it three times, blow dried it and broken a brush on it but it's just made it worse."

"What type of conditioner did you use?"

"The one I always do, the one in the locker room and then mine up here. That one that Grandma buys in bulk."

Selene's eyes widened in horror as her friend described the torment she had just admitted to putting her hair through.

"Generic conditioner? You used generic conditioner? The same shit that Alan uses? That conditioner? And then you tried to brush it out?"

Kayo shrugged.

"What are you, a savage?"

"What else would I do to get tangles out?"

"Oh my gods," Selene clasped her hands over her heart and swayed dramatically. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. How? How could you think that would be OK?"

"It's always been OK every other time."

"No! No don't you dare dismiss it and pretend that you didn't just commit a cardinal hair sin!"

Kayo shrugged again.

Selene pointed at Kayo then the tray of food. "You, you're going to eat that while I go and get some emergency supplies, and then we're going to fix this mess!"

Selene didn't give Kayo a chance to respond, she just swept out of the room, having delivered her orders which she expected to be obeyed. Kayo wanted to argue but knew it was a pointless waste of energy. Her hair felt like straw, she was grumpy and now that the enticing scent of cheesy pasta was permeating the room, she realised she was hungry too.

By the time Selene returned, arms ladened with so many bottles Kayo was sure she had just robbed a salon, she had eaten all of the food, drank half the milk and could admit that she actually felt a bit better.

"Right," Selene declared, dumping her load on the bed and sorting through it. "This is a moisturing shampoo, it's my favourite, the one that Scott keeps stealing. We're going to wash your hair with this and then we're going to slap on this deep conditioning mask and leave it for the full half hour before rinsing."

"Half an hour?" Selene had never heard Kayo sound so shocked.

"Yep, while wearing this." Selene produced something that looked like deflated balloon that had mated with a wedding bouquet.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's a swimming cap, ignore the flowers, it'll keep the conditioner in place and create warmth to help it soak in, we'll cover it with a towel, you won't see it."

It took some persuading, but soon Kayo was back with soaking wet hair. Selene helped her to smother her locks in an insane amount of the hair mask and wrestled it into the swimming cap then wrapped her whole head in a towel.

"I feel ridiculous."

"Ypu look it too, but beauty is pain and it'll be worth it in the end."

"I know at least six different ways to kill you without you making a sound, they will never find your body."

"But you wouldn't do that to me, would you? Because then you'd be combing that shit out on your own."

The witch spoke the truth.

"Urghhh," Kayo groaned, refusing to admit defeat but knowing she had to. "This is going to take forever."

"Nah, it won't, don't sweat it. We'll have a girly night. Look, I bought face masks and chocolate too, it'll be great."

There was protests, but Selene quickly bulldozed through them like she always did, going so far as to launch herself at the other woman and sit on her when she tried to escape to lock herself in the bathroom, holding her down while she scrubbed at her face with a cleansing wipe and then painted on the mask. Ignoring her outraged screeching as she flailed her arms in a defensive attack.

The door opened at one point, Gordon and Alan sticking their heads in to make sure everything was OK. In their house screaming was never ignored. They took one look at Selene straddling Kayo, holding a dripping brush between her teeth while Kayo tried to push her hands away, both girls faces smeared in bright green face mud, and backed right out again. Selene didn't blame them.

Kayo looked at Selene, her eyes narrowing as if she were about to shove her onto the floor, but then her lips curved in a smile and she started to laugh.

They both collapsed into manic giggling, unable to stop. The looks on the boys faces ahd been priceless, as had theirs when they had turned to look at the door, pausing in the middle of their fighting.

"Thats going to be all around the island in the next ten minutes," Kayo howled.

"Oh gods, yes. They're never going to let this be forgotten," Selene wheezed, easing up on her friend and rolling sideways to get off her.

By the time their hysterics had subsided Selene gave Kayo permission to wash out her hair.

Over the course of the next two hours Selene smothered Kayo's hair in detangler and painstakingly combed through the now thankfully not so tangled mass, working in tiny sections at a time, from the tip to the roots until she could run the comb smoothly through her hair.

As they worked, with Kayo sat on the floor in front of the bed and Selene perched on the edge behind her, they fell into an easy chatter, sharing the chocolate Selene had brought with her and catching up.

If anyone asked, Selene would say she was closest to the boys, and most definitely Scott, but she counted Kayo as a close friend just the same.

At first meeting the two women had decided that they had very little in common, although they had banded together, two girls in a sea of testosterone that was Tracy Island and had become close pretty quickly.

Selene was more of a girly girl, finding enjoyment in putting on makeup, dressing up in nice clothes and watching weepy movies. Whereas Kayo was a tougher nut. She didn't really like dresses and considered makeup to be a waste of time, but they had worked hard to find a common ground.

Kayo had been used to being the lone girl (apart from Grandma) on the island and Selene often wondered if her mother dying young and her moving to the island where she had had to hold her own with what amounted to a chattering pack of wild monkeys, had stopped her from exploring her feminine side a bit more.

Kayo was great for so many things, she and Selene often spent their workout time together and had found they both shared a curious fascination for real crime documentaries, especially those of a more historical nature like Ted Bundy, The Yorkshire Ripper and the Night Stalker, it was interesting to try to figure out how today's modern technologies could have helped with the cases.

They would be found by John, wide awake in the small hours of the morning, camped out in the lounge with blankets and unhealthy snacks that Kayo would never admit to actually eating, engaged in some debate or other, sharing theories on unsolved cases or giving their opinions on one's that had already been solved.

No, their Kayo could never be described as girly but she was awesome just the same.

As Selene worked Kayo regaled her was the story of the whole sorry rescue from start to finish, starting with the flooding and finishing with all of then wallowing around in knee high muck, slopping around, falling over and basically having a less than relaxing mud bath.

The boys had had it easy, they just needed a quick shower and change of clothes, but Kayo had not been so lucky.

But the time all the tangles were out of her hair and Selene had dried it with the hairdryer she'd borrowed from Virgil's room, both girls were laughing again and with each sweep of the brush through her friends hair Selene felt her tense shoulder relaxing, simply enjoying the feel of someone looking after her for once.

Kayo didn't like being looked after, where the boys were always happy to accept any and all attention, especially if it came in the form of food, hugs or tv buddies, Kayo was more reserved and less likely to seek out company when she felt tired or moody. Selene made a mental note to force her company on her friend more often.

"There, all done," Selene announced, running her fingers through it one more time just because it felt so soft and shiny now that it had had some TLC.

"It actually feels amazing," Kayo admitted, stroke a strand between finger and thumb.

"That's because your heathen head has finally been nourished with something decent."

Kayo ignored that dig as Selene started to gather up her products, leaving some on the bedside table for Kayo to keep.

"There, that wasn't too horrendous was it?"

"So you say," Kayo huffed, but there was just a tiny hint of a smile on her face.

"So you wouldn't want to make this a monthly thing then?"

Kayo rolled her eyes. "Obviously not."

Selene shrugged, turning to pick up her things.

"But, I consider you my friend so, you know, hanging out once a month wouldn't be that much of a chore, but only because you want to."

"Oh, of course," Selene agreed, trying not to laugh.

"So, what now?" Kayo asked, reluctant to admit that it had actually been quite a fun night that she wasn't really ready to end yet.

Selene thought about it for a moment or two. "Wash off this stuff," she pointed to the mask that had long since dried into a flaking, crusty mess, "and then shove the boys off the couch so we can watch the next episode of 'Crimes of Passion, the 80s years'?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

Big thanks to @myladykayo for the picture prompt. Not sure what this turned into but I went with it.

[ubemango]

this tiny space (m)

note: There’s 9 days till Christmas but Fuck it!!!!!! It’s come early because I said so 😎 Welcome back tts universe, and welcome to ubemango teehee 💖💖💖💖

PAIRING. yoongi/reader GENRE. romance, parents!au RATED. M WORD COUNT. 3.2k WARNINGS. toys, shower sex, creampie, oral (f receiving) EXCERPT. Yoongi was always attractive—your sexy piece of ass, as you like to remind him often—and seeing the tight skin of his back when he undresses further makes the insides of your stomach churn in want: the kind that made you want to fall to your knees, grovel. You love having a kid, but it’s been too long.

The duckies are your daughter’s favourite toys to play with, right after Bboong the whale and the lonesome poop squeaky toy drifting aimlessly near the edge of the tub.

“Soonbok, what did I tell you about splashing?”

She slumps into herself, calming the wriggling of her arms. Her little bread rolls softening into the big-girl-arms you don’t want her to grow into just yet.  “It makes mommy wet and it’s not niiiiice.”

“That’s right, baby.”

She distracts herself with the bubbles when Yoongi’s voice floats in from your bedroom. “Babe?”

“Mm?”

“Mom’s asking what time we’re dropping by.”

“Uh—” you wash Soonbok’s hair diligently as she hums a song to herself— “like an hour, I guess?”

“Okay—”

“MOMMY!” Eyes as wide as the moon, Soonbok screams in a sudden act of proclamation, tiny arms stretched above her head. She looks absolutely distraught. “Santa! Cookies? Cookies! We—We didn’t make cookies! Mommy mommy—”

“I know, Soonbok, you’re baking them with grandma tonight. Remember? Daddy reminded you today.”

“Cookies, mommy. We didn’t make the cookies!”

You reach for the basket sitting next to the tub, smiling silently at her worry. Yoongi likes to deny any accusation of her inheriting his dramatic nature but you know she didn’t get it from you. “You’re making them later, baby. Now, put your toys in here so we can clean up, okay?”

She does so without a word, grabbing the floating toys and placing them inside the plastic container. Thanking her softly, you give her a final rinse before draining the tub and toweling her off. She hates this part the most—it gets too cold too fast, and she’d gained the habit of running off naked into Yoongi’s arms when she was 2-years-old, prompting an especially exhausting goose chase around the room to get her into her clothes—so you dry her off as fast as you can, Soonbok’s tiny body shivering already, chanting: “Go, go, go!”

It’s not long before she’s in her pyjamas and bounding off to her daddy as you dry off the floor. It’s not nearly as wet as you’d anticipated, pride blooming in your chest as you think wistfully about how much older your daughter is getting: she didn’t even need to “clean up, clean up” the puddles on the tiles.

“Yoongi, can you help her pack?”

With that you hear a grunt and two heavy feet planting themselves onto the carpet. “Come, Soonbok, time to pack so you can visit Mama!”

A series of whooping and squealing follows the two down the hall. Soon enough Soonbok is packed and ready to go, her winter boots squelching on the thin layer of snow as she runs, her Pororo backpack bouncing along with her. Yoongi locks the door behind you, and stops you before you can head to the driveway.

“I have a surprise later.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “I’m scared.”

“Have faith, little one.” He smiles wide, clapping you on the back, the beep of the car following. “I promise it’s good.”

Yoongi’s mom’s house is decked out in glowing Christmas lights; metres of every colour imaginable strung all over the window sills, garage door, and even the 13 foot pine tree sitting out front. Soonbok had always admired the effort her grandparents put into decorating, and questioned constantly if you would do the same for your house. You’ve forgone any sort of warehouse shopping for lights because Yoongi is cautious about the electricity bill, however, and Soonbok had claimed offense right away. She spit in your face the next second: “That’s shitty.” 

(Yoongi broke his back laughing, and you had to claim the bad cop title that night when you scolded her. She’s a lot nicer now.)

Mama opens the door just as Yoongi places Soonbok down after lifting her up to press the doorbell. “My pretty granddaughter! You’re here!” She bends down and places a million and one kisses on your baby’s face while she squirms helplessly.

“Merry Christmas Mama!” Soonbok literally screams after breaking free from the barrage of obligatory Mama Kisses.

“Merry Christmas to you too, our pretty Soonbok.” She holds her  hand, bringing her inside with a quick tut of stomp your boots so the floor isn’t icky. Soonbok happily makes garbled noises—she does this when she does something intensely—as she focuses all her strength into the soles of her feet as she removes the snow from her boots on the doormat.

“Oof! Oof! Gone! Gone! Gone!”

Yoongi looks at you with a disturbed face. “She’s so violent,” he whispers.

“It’s cute!”

“She’s like a mini bulldozer.”

“Yoongi.”

He pinches your wrist, then brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it.

“We’ll be back in two days, ‘kay baby?” You lean down once she’s finished stomping, pressing a kiss to Soonbok’s sweaty hair, pushing it away from her eyes. “You be good for Mama.”

“M’kay,” Soonbok says. “Will I—Will I miss you?”

You can feel Yoongi shake in laughter. “I don’t know, baby. But daddy and mommy will miss you so much.”

Yoongi is next. He steps forward, bending his knees slightly, putting his hand up in invitation. Soonbok doesn’t hesitate to highfive him. “You love daddy?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna miss daddy?”

“Yeah!”

“You gonna kiss daddy bye bye?”

Soonbok leans into the cheek Yoongi presents to her. Places the tiniest peck with as much pout as she can muster. Mama gives you both a hug and a kiss, and ends pleasantries with quick motions of her hands to shoo you two away.

“Have fun! We won’t call you for help,” she says as she sees Yoongi about to interject. “Go. We love you.”

“Thank you Mama,” you say, and off you and your husband go, waving at your daughter who can barely reach her head over the window frame to see you leave as you settle in the car. You’re on the road with the radio low when Yoongi speaks.

“What time is the party?”

You check the clock on the radio: 7:02 PM. “Two hours, ish. Why?”

He hums. “Just wondering.”

Coming home with no screaming three-year-old is off-putting, to say the least. The lights turn on to a dull hum, fills the empty space as you remove your coat. Yoongi tosses his keys somewhere behind you, and promptly sidles up to your back. He leads with a kiss on the back of your neck.

“Feels weird,” you say.

“Hm?”

“Without her here.”

Yoongi squeezes you with his closed embrace. “I miss her already.”

You turn around and kiss him like no one’s watching; a reality just out of reach on any other day but very, very tangible now as you feel Yoongi press his lips insistently on yours. Hot intimacy long overdue and shortly lived when you breathe, “It’s—I’m just—like—waiting for her to pull on my pants or something.” You know it’s the most unsexy thing to say, but Yoongi’s tongue prods into your mouth anyway.

“Stop—talking about our daughter.”

“Sorry.”

He shrugs, then takes your hand. “Wanna shower?”

“Please.”

The mirror is already beginning to fog up when you come in with towels, placing them on the sink as you admire your very much shirtless husband. Yoongi was always attractive—your sexy piece of ass, as you like to remind him often—and seeing the tight skin of his back when he undresses further makes the insides of your stomach churn in want: the kind that made you want to fall to your knees, grovel. You love having a kid, but it’s been too long. (Soonbok had been battling a nasty flu over the past two weeks, allowing you and Yoongi virtually no time together.)

“You’re so hot,” you say.

Yoongi snorts. “Get naked.”

You do, quickly. The battering of the water soaks just right along your skin, Yoongi’s warmth following. Being in this tiny space with him fills you with a stupid amount of giddiness. Meeting under what feels like secret circumstances, a tryst you’re not supposed to indulge. He mouths a sigh along your shoulders. “Missed you like hell.”

“I know, baby. Pass the soap?” It’s the apricot wash he hands you. “Tired?”

“Nah.”

You scrub; Yoongi massages the suds in his hair. Stealing kisses to your neck when you don’t expect it. The water is scalding, but his touch scorches you. “Oh—what was surprise you were talking about earlier?”

“Mm. Finish up and I’ll tell you.”

It’s like fuel, his promise. He laughs at your rush to rinse off, bottles nearly bowled off in your haste.  You know he won’t blame you for being too eager, though. The liberation that comes with being a parent with no immediate responsibilities makes you feel unbelievably sexy.

You spin to meet your front to his; chests hot, noses bumping. Arms melting into the soft of his shoulders when you reach around him. “Tell me!”

He molds his mouth onto yours in answer, hands searching for your ass before squeezing. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, fathead.”

“Sit down here and let me service you, wife.” An easy command you raise your eyebrows to. The shower bench is distractingly cool against your ass. Yoong’s immediate drop to his knees brings your attention back. He lets you slide till you’re comfortable, grabbing the slick of your calf to rest beside his ear. “So I have, what—a little less than an hour and a half to make you cum?”

“Yessir.”

His fingers are pruned cold when they spread your pussy. “You’re delectable, I hope you know.”

There’s a tease of his nail on your clit, then the hard suck that follows. You shiver right into his touch. “Hhhh—God.”

The water from the showerhead rains steady on his back. A lustful dimension of steam and fogged-up glass. His tongue slides a dangerous path along your slit, taking the buck of your hips with the same enthusiasm.

His strokes batter your clit straight on, all his frustrations from not getting to pay attention to you the way he wants all honed in on the slick of his saliva. Claiming all your heat with his mouth, an intensity you try not to shy away from so you close your eyes instead.

“Yoongi—oh—!” He’s suckling like he’s starved. A nice reminder that your pussy is still his preferred meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Your thigh twitches with every pulse of his puckered lips, tips of your fingers sliding helplessly along the shower tile, no traction for your desperation.

“Oh,” you whine. Blearily seeing Yoongi with his own eyes shut tight, mouth sealed on your sopping sex, your nipples taut. His hair sticks to his forehead. “Shit—”

He groans into you. Switching gears and pressing his head deeper in between your thighs if only to assure that he gets every single drop of desire you have to offer. His head bobs with every sharp indulgence, tongue twisting fast into the wetness you offer, noises from your throat spilling faster than you can keep them down.

“I’m—close...”

He’s got either thigh on his shoulder in an instant. The unholy mixture of your arousal and his spit slides right down your ass, filth of it all squeezing your thighs to his ears. “Oh my god.“ The squelch is lewd, a sound only half registering through the buzz in your ears from how loud you’re getting. “Fuck, Yoongi, I’m—!”

It’s the last barrier holding the dam together bursting. Your orgasm rips right through you, the speed so alarming it’s all you can do not to buck his head off completely. The tightness at your cunt unfurling right into Yoongi’s waiting mouth, your hips grinding into his heat. Your eyes roll back with the collapse of your mind into ecstasy.

He doesn’t stop. Not until you’re panting through pleas, thighs trembling into a close. He fends it off with insistent hands.

“Yoongi, oh my God—please—no more—!”

The pop is loud when he loosens his suckling. “All I’d do, you know. This cunt?” He taps your pelvis affectionately, watching your come-down with a hunger he doesn’t try to hide. “The best.”

“Mhm,” you pant. “I’ll—I’ll let her know you think so kindly of her.”

“I’ll send a gift basket too. Cranberries, pineapples?”

Your legs are dead weights when you drop them down. “That’s good—I’m sure she’d like that.”

“Good.” He accepts the kiss you give him. Slow in your exchange, sticky with the taste of your tang. 

The glide of his fingers along your chest is tentative. He’s careful with the squeeze of your tit, but you press forward with silent encouragement. It’d taken a while for you to warm up to Yoongi touching you like this, with the confidence to accept his attention. The part of motherhood that mangled all the youthful parts away from you consumed most of your sex life after having Soonbok, sucked especially out of what was once your pert chest, the smooth skin of your stomach. Yoongi was patient, though. You didn’t fuck with the lights on for a solid two months, and that was only until your daughter had learned to sleep through the night. “I still haven’t—I still have something for you, baby.”

You lick into his mouth. “I have the feeling we won’t be on time for the party.”

“Seokjin will understand the needs of a man who was desperate to ravish his wife after a two week dry spell—“

“Relax, wise guy,” you retort. “Show me what you have. I missed you too.”

Yoongi opens the door, reaching over to rummage for something in one of the baskets on the floor. He presents to you a—

“Vibrator? Yoongi that’s gonna get wet—“

It’s an annoyed look he sends you. “Made sure to get a waterproof vibe, genius. Now get up against the wall, my knees hurt and I’m—so fucking hard.”

“Should I face you?”

He shakes his head. “I—Will you let me fuck you here?” You realize belatedly that the water is, in fact, still running.

“I don’t think I’ll cum though.”

Tutting, Yoongi waves the vibe around. “I’ll make you feel good. Now spare some ass, please. Lube?”

“No, it’s—it’s fine.” The tile is a comforting cool on your forehead, stifling that warmth when the head of his dick presses against your core. Yoongi rubbing along your slick, closing your eyes at the near-foreign feeling of hitting it from the back because that’s just too loud in the cloak of a late night. He bottoms out with an ease that makes your fists curl tight.

“Oh—shit.”

“Feel good?”

“Yeah—oh. Please.”

Suddenly all you know is the pounding of the shower water, the pounding in all the right places. It’s dizzying, trapped in the fever of his drive. He buries his head in your neck, your name strangled in his throat. Then he puts the vibe against your clit.

The sensation is new, a shaking of your nerves that has you reeling. “Oh fuck.”

Yoongi rams his hips with vigour unmatched, breath stunted. “Shit you feel so—fuck how close—can you cum?”

“N-No,” you say. Or: whimper, because regardless, you feel light. The quiver of the wet silicone slips in his hold, too busy keeping the pace you’re both losing yourselves to.

He shuts the vibe. “Hold this, please.”

The faucets squeak shut. Yoongi slips out, a slow preamble to his haste when he nearly tears off the shower curtains, reaching for the towels you’d laid out. Drying you off isn’t as graceful as you’d like but neither of you are pressed for a complete towel-off at this point—he completely ignores your hair to dry off with the other just as quick.

It’s almost funny, him dragging you by the wrist from the warmth and straight into the cold air that hits too fast, but not as fast as Yoongi finding the mattress and pushing you down face first. He slaps your ass for good measure. “Sorry, I—holy fuck. Please let me make you cum.”

“In. In in in—”

He’s quick to fill you up. Yoongi pistons his dick like he’s never known a slower alternative. Testing your ability to keep up but your hips are locked with his grip.

Something’s missing. And you feel it—limp in your hand, the vibe shut off. It’s on with a shaky press of your thumb. You’re quick to introduce the revving where you pulse. You know Yoongi feels it when he swears. Landing a quick slap to your ass in retaliation but you love when he makes you take it. ”Shit, keep going.”

The skin on your ass stings. Moans in tandem with each smack of his palm. The toy digs deep in your clit, breath hitching because you feel it. You’re drowning in it. “Oh god Yoongi—just like that—”

You hear him talk but it sounds like cymbals clashing, nothing coherent registering in your head. Just noise in the roughness of your love, the roar in your ears overwhelming any sense of using your tongue to speak so you mewl instead.

His hips are damp against your ass. The sound is nasty in all the right ways. It’s got your gut twisted in the absolute need to just—you just—

“Yoongi I’m—”

Both hands hold your hips up higher. You cum like this, crying into the sheets, suns and stars rearranging in the dark of your closed eyes when you succumb to the explosive relief. Dropping the vibe onto the sheets because you’ve lost all sense of a good grip, clutching the bed like it’s your lifeline. You bury Yoongi’s name in the sheets.

“I’m cumming—I’m cumming-—” he declares. He stutters in rhythm, pumping cum deep where you drip. Groaning low, fingers tight on your skin. “Oh my god.”

You reach down with shaky hands, shutting the toy off. “I’m dead. I can’t—feel my legs.”

Yoongi makes a choked noise. “You know when you cum I see the seventh heaven?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s it like?”

He pulls out, lets you collapse onto your back. “What, feeling you cum? It’s—euphoric.”

“Ooh, big words.”

“Only the best for—” he taps your pelvis once more— “the best pussy.”

“Come here, stupid.” Yoongi crawls over you, uncaring of the mess left all over your cunt. “Kiss me.”

He does. It’s languid, sweaty—the softness that comes post-intense sex. You feel a surge of adoration run through you when your legs tangle. “I love you,” you say.

He sinks his lips into yours again. “Same to you, momma. Now go pee, I’ll change the sheets.”

You feel a tug on your chest. “So sexy.”

“And I’ll dry your hair.” You feign a shudder. Yoongi smacks your ass in faux-haste. “Go. We’re late as it is.”

“That is not my fault!”

He tuts. “Go and pee so we can call Soonbok before she sleeps.”

By the time you’re prim enough to go on video chat, Soonbok has just brushed her teeth. “Hi baby. Are you ready to sleep?”

Soonbok is very focused on her dolls. “Yeah, mommy. I’m tired.” She says this like an overworked maid. A thirty-year-old tinge of exhaustion probably from changing and feeding her dollies, and you stifle a laugh. “Mama, I’m sleepy.”

“Sleep well, Soonbok,” Yoongi pipes up from behind you, just about to put on his jacket. “Be a good girl, okay?”

“M’kay daddy. You be good too, ‘kay?”

“Will do, baby.”

You say bye after Soonbok hands the phone back to Mama, exchanging good nights as Yoongi helps you slip your coat on. Seokjin won’t be too mad at your tardiness, you hope. Seeing the tired smile of your baby is all worth it. And Yoongi smiles, knowing you.

“I miss her,” he says. Pushing down the instinctual need to check the baby monitor, you press forward out the door.

“Me too.”

[kewltie]

Pale blond hair, keen emerald eyes, and a gentle, honeyed smile cresting on her face, she is the darling of the hero’s world and an angel sent from heaven to tame that unruly father of hers – only a fool with think that – but Eijirou knows her by another name: Kasumi-chan, the monster princess.

People often forget behind that pretty smile of hers is Bakugou Katsuki’s daughter and just like her ornery father, she also needlessly wields a sharp and callous mind that cut down anyone stands in her path. Mercilessly and relentlessly, she’s a hell raiser. It’s in her blood.  

“Uncle Eijirou,” she smiles sweetly at him as she approaches, which immediately set off the all alarm bells in his head, “I heard you and Auntie Mina have been trying for a baby.”

“W-what?” Eijirou sputters in his seat. “Where you hear that?!”

“Around.” She gestures vaguely into the distance as though that explain everything. “Now, I have an offer for you: how do you feel about taking in Hanabi? I know he’s not good for much right now since all he does is cry, eat, poop and sleep.” She makes a face. “But I’ve been told that babies outgrow of it eventually and because he came out of Papa, I’m sure he’ll be handsome one day, so you don’t have to worry about him staying ugly for long.”

“W-wait!” Eijirou makes a hacking sound like he’s choking on air as he stares at her incredulously. “A-are you seriously trying to pawn off your new baby brother to me?!”

“Yes!” she chirps up unrepentantly, leaning in close. “I don’t think we need another kid in our household. I’m already perfect.” At that, she puffs up her chest proudly. “Babies are kinda useless, don’t you think? I don’t know why everyone is so fascinated by them when I’m right here.” Her body deflates as her face scrunches up in displeasure. “I just don’t get it!”

Eijirou looks around helplessly for any kind of cavalry coming to his rescue, but the devious brat had zeroed in on him right away when he decided to separate himself from the party for a moment to take a breather. She’s definitely taking no prisoner by the fierce glint of her eyes.

He’s in deep shit this time.

“Kasumi-chan, you know how much everyone and your parents absolutely adore you,” he tries as she preens under his praise, “and Hanabi-chan.” Her face crashes immediately. “Especially to your parents, because you’re both their precious children and they could never choose between you two.”

“Why not,” she snaps, her eyes narrowing with a predatory sheen that keenly reminds him how very much she is Bakugou Katsuki’s ridiculously spoiled daughter. She has been an only child for far too long. “He not only keeps my parents up late at night with insistent crying but they never have enough time to play or pay attention to me! Babies are the literal worst! They’re so gross and annoying, and I just don’t understand why adults go crazy for them!” She rolls her eyes, bristling with contempt. “Just take him back wherever he came from!”

Eijirou’s next words must be chosen with extreme care. “You were like that once too, Kasumi-chan,” he points out.

Kasumi cocks her head, brows furrow, and frowns. A gauntlet of emotions run across her face: confusion, annoyance, and then finally, it settles into disbelief. “Unlikely,” she scoffs. “I was never that irritating. I was the most perfect baby. Grandma Mitsuki always said so.”

“That’s—well,” he starts, thinking of Katsuki’s early years with Kasumi and the anxiety and fear that had bled from him. How even Katsuki, who had bulldozed his way through U.A. and the hero rankings so easily, can be brought down by a babe swaddled in a pink Hello Kitty blanket.

Children can humble even the fiercest of men. Bakugou Katsuki was no exception.

Reluctantly, he acquiesces, “You were a pleasant baby.” She squints at him so he hurriedly corrects himself, “an excellent, wonderful, and most perfect baby.” Which immediately has the effect of lightening her mood up dramatically because someone got to feed that Bakugou’s ego of hers.

“I know,” she agrees amiably, and there’s smugness in those words.

“But,” and this is where he might die, he thinks somberly, “it’s not really Hanabi-chan’s fault he can’t do anything right now. You know he’s young, so he needs a lot of help to do things like you once did. And I’m sorry that you think we’re ignoring you, but he’s just a baby, and he needs so much from us. From you too. You’re his big sister now and he’ll look up to you one day, so won’t try to be kind to him?” Eijirou doesn’t so much go on his knees and beg, but it’s a close thing.

It sounds pretty reasonable to him, a sound defense of Hanabi’s existence while appealing to Kasumi’s powerful sense of pride. Kasumi, for all her the crazy ideas that she get stuck in her head, is logical and thoughtful. Thankfully, that part of her is all Izuku’s. Hopefully, that’ll be something she’ll channel instead.

There’s a beat of silence too heavy between them that makes his skin crawl as Kasumi’s face goes blank and indecipherable. Then, slowly and coldly, she says, “Are you asking me to sacrifice my happiness for that wet diaper rag?”

“No!” he says, aghast. Of course, she took it the wrong way. And, “Is that what your baby brother?!”

She folds her arms across her chest. Impertinence lines her body. “I call it as I see it.”

He sighs long-sufferingly. A thing, he quickly finds, to be extremely common around the Bakugou. They’re all going to drive him to an early grave.

“That is not what I meant at all,” Eijirou tries once more. “Just think of a little brother as an investment. Like a tree. He’s small and, uh,” he cringes, “useless right now, but as you care for him one day, he’ll grow older and will bear you fruit of happiness in return.”

She wrinkles her nose at his attempt at persuasion. “That’s dumb,” she points out, cutting through his nonsense with childish bluntness. “Trees can grow by themselves in the wild even without my help and what can Hanabi even give me when I’m not lacking anything? I’m happy with my life,” she insisters with narrowed eyes. “Hanabi’s existence doesn’t improve my life in any way. I can’t even think of anything that he did to make me happy since he’d arrived here, so I doubt he’ll be able to change my mind about it in the future too.”

Eijirou shakes his head and almost cry into his hands. Her sheer stubbornness is truly profound. “Kasumi-chan, he’s your brother! You can’t just give him away.”

Frowning, she places her hand on her hip as she stares him down and he feels like he’s pinned to her bull eyes. “If you think he’s so great and all that, then why don’t you just keep him. Take him home with you tonight.”

And they’re back to square one again, he thinks hopelessly. He groans out loud.

“Well, do you want Hanabi or not?” she demands, tapping her foot impatiently.

“I would very much like to keep my head intact,” he answers solemnly, because if Katsuki doesn’t kill him first then Izuku’s disappointed frown would.

Kasumi looks heavenward for a second. “Coward,” she mutters lowly under her breath.

But, clearly, not low enough because he heard it all right. “Hey,” he says defensively. He’d tried. Like, a lot given who he is dealing with and for all the years he had known her, barely able to walk on her own two feet, he’d only won a handful of battles against her. It doesn’t speak much of his successes.

“Fine,” she huffs, “there’s plenty of other people at this party. I’m sure I’ll find someone else who can take Hanabi with them when they leave tonight.”

Eijirou’s eyes widen and before he can tell her to stop her crazy plan, because seriously, she runs off to find her next victim. For a horrifying moment, he just sits there and considers either going after her, or—or he can get a drink to erase this entire fiasco from his memory.

Yea, a drink sounds about right about now, he thinks hysterically. There are days when Bakugou Kasumi is a trial as much as she is a blessing to the world. This is one of those days. Let’s leave it to her parents to rein her in. He’d already lost the battle, no need to lose the war too.

[misssquidtracy]

The Great Tracy Cook Off

I’ve seen a number of posts floating around about the Tracys doing their own version of a cooking show (no idea how old these posts are). Coincidentally, my own mega fic is currently exploring this very scenario.

P.S. Mega fic is now sentient and actively evading capture. This is chapter 46 of 55, though it can stand on its own fairly well. The only piece of contextual information required is the pup named Celery. She’s an ex-stray who Gordon rescues in chapter 27. She makes regular appearances.

-x-

Gordon wrung his hands nervously as the holo-table beeped, signifying an outgoing call.

He was confident that his plan was a good one. He had the backing of Scott, Grandma and Celery.

What could possibly go wrong?

“Gordon!” a well-spoken voice danced around the room, closely followed by Lady Penelope’s holographic form flickering to life, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The aquanaut smiled with confidence he didn’t have, “Hey, Lady P! Sorry for ringing so late, but I have a proposal for you. And Parker and Sherbert, of course.”

Lady Penelope’s eyes widened in curiosity, “A proposal you say? Please, do elaborate. I’m all ears.”

The den was silent for a minute as Gordon’s mind suddenly went blank. He vaguely remembered John once complaining about something similar; a completely rational train of thought disappearing with zero warning, leaving behind nothing but the sound of chirping crickets.

Alan had taken the liberty of dubbing the aforementioned phenomenon a ‘brain fart’. John hadn’t been impressed.

Stood before the woman he harboured a not-so-secret crush on, Gordon felt his own brain fall victim to a fart of epic proportions. Had it occurred outside the confines of his head, everything on the island would have perished instantly (including Virgil’s potted plants).

Celery sneezing jolted the aquanaut back to the matter at hand.

“Uh, I was wondering if you, Parker and Sherbert would like to come over for dinner tomorrow evening. Are you busy?” Gordon asked, dragging one of his sweaty palms along Celery’s head.

“Tomorrow evening, you say?” Penelope repeated, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she twisted to look at something over her shoulder, “Parker? When is the Duke of Norfolk’s garden party? Next Tuesday? Oh, wonderful. Yes Gordon, the diary is empty for tomorrow evening. What time shall we aim to arrive? And do you need us to bring anything? A bottle of wine, perhaps?”

Gordon cringed as drunken memories from the previous Christmas and Scott’s birthday jostled for dominance inside his head, “Uh, no thanks, that’s fine. Just bring yourselves. As for time, does seven o’clock suit?”

“F.A.B,” Penelope chirped, “In that case, we’ll see you tomorrow!”

Gordon was about to reply, but was interrupted by the raspy voice of his grandmother echoing around the den.

“Gordon? Is this pile of underpants next to the dryer yours? I’m about to put a wash on and can’t remember which detergent you like best!” the Tracy matriarch bellowed.

Penelope quirked a playful brow as Gordon flushed scarlet. Of all the times his grandmother could have chosen to take an interest in his underwear…

“I’m kind of busy, Grandma!” Gordon barked, his tone a stark contrast to the pleasant smile he had plastered across his face.

“I remember you mentioned something about a rash?” Sally bulldozed on, oblivious to the distress she was causing her fourth grandson, “I think you might be sensitive to the detergent we’ve all been using. I’m going to try washing your underpants in the same stuff I use for John’s allergies. That should hopefully stop any more nasty rashes from interfering with your missions.”

Gordon felt part of his soul leave his body as Penelope let out an involuntary snort of laughter.

“I think we need to take you for another eye test, Grandma!” Gordon retaliated, his desperation evident, “You must be confusing my stuff with Alans. I never mentioned anything about a rash!”

“Are you sure?” Sally screeched, her voice like nails on a chalkboard, “I remember you complaining the last time you took your wetsuit off. And this pile of undies is definitely yours. I can see your favourite pair of pineapple boxers on top!”

“Nope, your glasses must be broken!” Gordon didn’t think he’d ever felt more embarrassed in his life, “Go and fetch your contacts and tell Alan to do his own laundry! Crazy old woman!”

The silence that followed was heavy, and it took all of the aquanaut’s willpower to suppress the groan of humiliation that suddenly hovered at the back of his throat. In the space of just sixty seconds he’d managed to tarnish his image in front of two of the most important women in his life.

Penelope would never take him seriously again, and Grandma would no doubt flay him alive for calling her ‘crazy’ as soon as she got her hands on him.

“Gotta go Lady P, see you tomorrow,” Gordon gabbled, terminating the comm link before he could faint from embarrassment.

Okay, that was one down (three if he included Parker and Sherbert). Now he just had to convince Kayo…

…which he’d worry about after apologising to his grandmother and pleading with her to follow through with her sensitive detergent suggestion.

Mothers (or grandmothers) always knew best.

-x-

Twenty hours later, Gordon was very much regretting his decision to give the whole cooking malarkey ‘a stab’.

Oh, something was going to get stabbed alright.

Right now, it was most certainly what little remained of his dignity.

“Put the chicken on the stove,” Gordon quoted from the recipe sheet Scott had given him, “Okay, sounds simple enough.”

Stepping over Celery’s sleeping form, the aquanaut fished a packet of chicken out of the fridge before placing it on one of the hob rings, packaging and all, “There, the chicken is on the stove. Now how do I turn this stupid thing on…”

The Tracy residence was equipped with a state of the art kitchen that boasted just about every appliance known to man. The stove in particular was a feat of engineering brilliance; motion sensitive temperature controls, voice recognition and an automated shut off feature to name a few. The latter came in particularly handy when an emergency call came through in the middle of breakfast/lunch/dinner.

Long gone were the days of Scott having to abort Thunderbird One’s launch sequence because he’d ‘left the oven on’.

Unfortunately, it was all wasted on Gordon.

“Let’s crank this thing right up,” the aquanaut muttered, turning the heat up to maximum as he ferreted in one of the cupboards for a saucepan. After locating one that looked suitably sized and dumping the chicken into it, he turned his attention back to Scott’s ingredient list, “Okay, now where does Grandma keep the pasta…”

Celery raised her head in curiosity as her master set about opening and closing every single cupboard the kitchen had to offer.

“We must be out,” Gordon mused, biting his lip in worry, “Never mind, I’ll use noodles instead.”

Oblivious to the rapidly charring chicken atop the stove, the aquanaut trotted off towards the larder to retrieve a packet of instant noodles, pausing en route to grab a Celery Crunch Bar, “Okay, so that’s the chicken and the pasta taken care of. What else do I need…hmm, cream and parmesan. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Both items were acquired without difficulty, although it was with a smidgen of regret that Gordon realised he’d have to limit his sauce intake. Scott had been kind and made his portion of alfredo pasta with dairy free cream the night before, and parmesan was naturally low in lactose apparently. Gordon had no idea if there was even any dairy free cream left, but at the rate the chicken was burning, he knew he wouldn’t have time to find out.

The stove was hastily turned down, its contents smoking like the Australian wildfires Scott and Virgil worked every year to help extinguish. Thankfully, the chicken was saved just short of going nuclear, although the smoke detector didn’t seem to agree.

“Deactivate!” Gordon yelled, huffing in irritation as silence descended over the house once more, “Okay, nearly there. What do the instructions say to do next...”

The sauce recipe that Scott had given him was blessedly simple to follow, however possessed one fatal flaw, much to the aquanaut’s horror.

He hadn’t written down ingredient quantities.

Gordon was so past caring. Between the burnt chicken, noodle substitution and lack of dairy free cream, his hopes of redeeming himself were sinking through the floor. He was just amazed he hadn’t set anything on fire.

“What do you think, girl?” Gordon asked, peering down at Celery who was banging her tail against the fridge door in excitement, “Should we use the whole carton of cream, or just half?”

Woof.

“You’re right,” Gordon announced, dumping the whole carton over the top of the cremated chicken before reaching for the parmesan, “More is always better. I think I’ll add the cheese gradually though; don’t want it to be too salty.”

Woof, woof.

“Of course!” the aquanaut slapped a palm to his forehead and dove for the pepper mill, “Gotta have seasoning”

Woof, woof, woof.

-x-

John had never been fond of surprises.

Mainly because he associated them with heart attacks.

Scott putting a stump-toed gecko in his bed, Virgil accidentally lighting a firework in his room and Alan’s birth had all fallen under the ‘surprise’ umbrella.

None of them had been welcome.

“Are you serious?” John shook his head so fast his brain almost rattled out of place, “Why on earth does Gordon want to put himself through all the stress of playing hostess for the evening?”

Scott sighed as he handed the redhead a mug of tea, “No idea. Said he wants a chance to prove that he can take things seriously. I think it’s probably best to let him get it out of his system. Plus, he’s volunteered to try cooking. He’s a grown man, it’s about time he learnt how to make something other than toast and pancakes.”

John hissed as memories of Gordon’s last unsupervised kitchen stint flashed through his head, “I’m not touching whatever he ends up making. He’ll probably end up using ingredients I’m allergic to anyway.”

“Why don’t you write a list of all your allergies and pin it to the fridge?” Scott suggested, “It’ll certainly take a lot of the guesswork out of cooking for me.”

John grunted in approval, “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

Scott beamed and raised his mug, “The only kind I have.”

Forty minutes later…

“Seriously?” Scott gaped as his eyes scanned the two pieces of A4 paper John had stuck to the fridge, “You’re allergic to glitter? And shoe polish?”

John gave a sniff of defiance, “Kindly tell Gordon to not use either in his cooking.”

Scott cringed, “Might be too late.”

-x-

Gordon had always taken pride in his appearance.

Sure, he wasn’t as much of a peacock as Scott or Virgil and had been known to go weeks between sock changes, but he was still aware of his Tracy genes.

“What do you think?” the aquanaut asked as he paraded down the staircase, his usually coiffed hair slicked back against his head.

From the safety of the den, Alan snorted, “You look like a roll-on deodorant.”

Gordon gave a disgruntled harrumph before swanning off to check on the status of his culinary masterpiece.

“Chef’s privilege,” the aquanaut snickered, dipping a spoon into the alfredo sauce and licking it clean, “Not bad…could probably do with a bit more salt though.”

In went the salt.

“Better…but it’s still lacking depth.”

In went the parmesan.

“Oh yes, now that’s good. A little more black pepper and we’ll be good to serve.”

In went the black pepper.

“Hmm, I wonder if some of my canned cheese will make it a bit thicker…”

In went the canned cheese.

“Maybe just a dash more salt…”

In went the salt.

“Oh, that’s incredible! One more quick taste won’t hurt…”

In went the spoon.

“Man, that’s even better than the stuff Scott makes!”

In went the spoon again.

And again.

And again…

[wanderinglotus7]

The Legacy Continues

Well, I made it! I made it. There are three days left of 2020 until we roll into 2021. This year has been a game changer. Game changer doesn’t seen correct...life altering sounds better. My life drastically changed within the past month. Though these events threw me off my game, I recovered and bounced back even stronger. This speaks to my tremendous strength in the Lord & within myself. I continue to tell myself that the fortune teller I spoke with summer 2019 has been spot on y’all. August 2020 to now, adjust to my new life has been challenging, but I don’t regret my decision moving to Massachusetts. This decision is part of the life-course God has plan for me.

Yes, I miss my family. However, my experiences of attending Bridgewater College and traveling to Thailand has prepared me for this moment in my life. Because of covid I haven’t really been active in my new environment, but I try to take advantage of the opportunities I do have to explore my surroundings. Last week I took a nice walk and ended up exploring another part of Newton and almost ended up in the inner city of Boston (I think I walked about 8 miles in total). I took another walk into town and walked into HomeGoods on my way to Starbucks. Leaving and returning to Boston, I took the train and was able to get myself to and from the Logan airport. Small victories in my book! I am in no rush to try to experience everything all at once. I have around 4 to 5 years to embrace Boston as my new home. I already feel like it is anyway. This is my true testimony to see if I can really be responsible for myself. So far, I feel confident in achieving/excelling in this area of my life. My upbringing has prepared me, yet again, for the challenges of [young] adulthood. 

I am getting ahead of myself. I have to rewind a bit give y’all an update. December 18th was the last day of classes and finals week. I have successfully finished my first semester of grad school!!! YEAH ME!!!!! I’m telling you the hard work paid off. I did have my moments of doubt and feelings of not being good enough. I was overwhelmed. I felt like I was drowning trying to balance school, work, and my internship. On top of that, I am trying to balance a relationship along with working on my mental health. My mind & body is always on the go. No time for rest...actually there are moments of rest, but I chose not to rest instead. I have a bad habit of pushing through and bulldozing my way through my life. I don’t take the necessary time to be present and focus on what is in front of me. Sometimes, I get too focused on the future and forget to enjoy the present. I have been in this mode since mid October to the 18th. Midterms kicked me in the ass because that was around the same time I began working at chipotle. Even before Chipotle, I was falling behind on the readings and assignments for my classes. On the other hand, my internship with Amirah is not a stressor in my life because it is an experience that I am passionate about. I’m not bothered having to wake up early and end my days late when it comes to my internship because I am that committed. Being overwhelmed and stressed I passed all my midterms with good grades (all As and one B)! Then the unexpected happened...

October 29th at 11:18pm, I received a phone call from my mother informing me that my Grandmother Shirley unexpected passed away. I think they determined her cause of death was because of a heart attack. I’m not sure. Honestly, I don’t think I really want to know. I’m hoping she passed away peaceful. The news sent me into shock. I just couldn’t believe it. I still can’t believe it. I just had a conversation with that previous Thursday or Saturday, and the conversation went so well. She was so proud of me. She was excited for me to be home for Christmas and all these other things. It’s not the same, but at least we were able to say “I love you” before she passed. Who would’ve known that would be the last time I will ever speak to her again. And this had to happen around the holidays and around the same time that Laura Mae (my great grandmother passed away). In less than three weeks, I received a phone call and text early in the morning from my Grandma Louise and my dad telling me that my granddaddy unexpectedly passed away too. Two grandparents removed from my life at the snap of the finger.

With help from my family, I was able to fly to Virginia for both funeral services. This time I said my final good-byes unlike with Laura Mae. I didn’t want to live with that guilt. Everyone has been very compassionate, understanding, and accommodating to my situation and has given me time to grieve & heal especially regarding BC, Amirah, & Chipotle. I missed a few classes and had to receive a few extensions on a couple of assignments. I pulled through the best way I could manage in my emotional state. My emotional state didn’t get any better dealing with my relationship during this time. Some of my boyfriend’s recent decisions added more unnecessary stress in my life. I was already stressed about me introducing him to my entire family because the timeline got rushed and I wasn’t for sure if I wanted him around while I’m going through a mental & emotional meltdown. At the end of the day, he wanted to be there for me to provide his live and support and I wasn’t going to deny him of doing so. It would’ve been selfish of me to tell him “No”. Everything happens for a reason. Instead of spending maybe two weeks together, my boyfriend and I spent basically all of November together bouncing between Gloucester and Woodstock. It sucked that it had to be under sad circumstances.

Decisions, decisions, decisions that is where my mind was at. Only a few individuals gave me the needed space to focus & process my emotions. From all angles I was being pressured to make some permanent decisions in which my mind was not in the right mind frame to be thinking. I did reach out and have been receiving counseling services from the university which has been helpful. I am in the process of searching for a therapist outside of the university for long-term treatment. Though I tell myself sometimes I feel like quitting, I decided to remain a full time student, declared my concentration, and completed my field placement application for 2021-2022 academic year. I’m on tract to graduating Spring 2022. Being blessed again, I was able to receive extensions on two of my finals and on my field placement assignments. I passed all my finals! I received all As and one B+. I ended the semester with a 3.6 GPA. Not too shabby (lol). I know my grandparents are very proud of me.

I’m proud of myself! I didn’t surrender and take the easy way out. I turned 24 on the 7th which is another milestone in my life. I was shown much love that exceeded my expectations. I spent the Christmas alone, but I made the best out of my situation & was still able to connect with my loved ones. Since the 18th I devoted my downtime, and overall winter break taking better care of myself. The last week I was home, I noticed that I’ve been severely neglecting myself and it was heavily damaging my well-being. I’m growing in setting and maintaining my boundaries, learning to be present with emotions & resting, being okay with saying “no” and not feeling guilty about it. The most important lesson is not overworking myself in every aspect of my life. I am no good to myself or others if I am completely burnt out. 

I am praying that 2021 isn’t a continuation of this year. Yet, 2020 has not been all too horrible. I have been able to grow in so many ways that I am becoming a better individual. Most important, I’m continuing to learn how to be a better person for myself!

[blankdblank]

Breaking the Boss Idea

In the background of an office show oc has slowly been gaining attention for how she reacts to how one of the main stars had been acting. Big up high type guy (Henry Cavill) serious and stone like ruthless business man (low key set up like how mad men had all the daily meetings and such with offices and main area with desks filling the floor.)

... One day Henry shows up with bag of laundry that he just picked up from his maid that quit and while she’s listening to the guys banter she’s supposed to keep busy in the scene so she starts folding his laundry mouthing along mockingly to the conversation - not the first time she’s done the faces - and when a man tells a cringy joke she mimed throwing up with socks making the other extras in the back fight not to laugh while again Henry is unable to help but smile like he always does when oc does something in the back of his scenes, which is a lot, and she’s the only reason he smiles on the show, seriously

.. another time she is seen behind the guys hiding a stuffed flamingo (various times it’s other animals/characters used to decorate one person’s desk with their fave animal/character)

.. she subtly is brought into meetings passive aggressively passing out papers or snacks or products needed for those in the meeting fake laughing at jokes then making faces behind the person’s back out of sight for others except for Henry and the camera of course, extra sassy when these things clearly add to her already busy job

.. one day she’s seen miming though the meeting room wall as they’re entering to Henry his dog Kal has snuck onto set following her after having smelled her perfume off of Henry from the day prior where the two grudge holding characters from their first confrontational time speaking on screen in waiting for an elevator they were adorably squished together, and repeated a few times through that filmed day for various reasons, not the first time he’d been squished with the woman he’d been staring at in the writers failed thought up plans to get the characters into some sort of daily conversing

Big boss turns around and oc smiles lifting hands formerly miming paws to adjust her ponytail, “You wanted coffee now, or after the meeting?”

“Now,” he said looking her over then turns away while she mouths ‘dog’ at Henry only making him shrug not understanding until a few moments later he sees her tiny self cradling Kal with his tail wagging and carrying him past the glass wrapped meeting room he causes distractions to keep the guys from noticing as they sit down realizing what she was trying to say

She tried to put Kal in his office but there’s a slot in the wall missing on the set and he follows her onto the meeting as she passes out the coffee mug 

Big boss asks, “Oc, why is there a dog in the board room?”

Turning around she says, “He’s my support dog.”

“For what?”

“I’d, rather not say, in front of everyone.”

He sighed, “Just keep him in line and walk him, I don’t want any messes around here.”

“Yes sir,” walks around table flicking Henry’s shoulder. (Writers are happy for the improved drama and chance to add depth to his character outside the office)

.

Henry comes to her office finding her squishing Kal’s cheeks asking “How can someone so grumpy live with someone so cute and happy? Look at you smiles for days. You’d need a bulldozer to get that scowl off his face.”

“You stole my dog?” He asked making her turn around seeing him with arms crossed.

“You brought him into the office and he was at my desk!”

He sighed, “Well my dog walker quit so I guess this works out.”

“Oh yes, now I get to do my job, part of yours and walk him throughout the day. Thank you, huge weight off my shoulders!” She says brushing past him heading to leave after giving Kal a warm goodbye. She gets to the elevator and he is back at her side with his coat and bag handing her a card after the awkwardly quiet trip to the ground floor.

“My address, so you can come pick him up in the morning.”

Looking up at him she flatly said, “This is half an hour out of my way! I hate you,” taking the card and walking out.

“See you at four.” He called out to her back.

“You better be dressed or I’m using my mace.”

.

Daily hand offs and walks he starts to join her to talk about his scheduled trips setting up shots of her at his home watching Kal while he’s gone since her building won’t let her have dogs

... phone calls go hand off custody and arranging when to pick up Kal for various work events

... calls to share info on dog’s health and stories and pictures from his puppy days

.

Cue the day she runs into her ex on a day off walk Henry tagged along for on his break

Henry walks up seeing he’s giving her a hard time hanging up a work call

“How did I know it would end up just you and some fluffy dog at the end of the day? Just want a warm body that takes orders and doesn’t argue.”

“Oh shut up I’m just walking him.”

He scoffs, “Don’t tell me you let some big shot have you walking his dog! The guys back home will love this!”

Henry walks up cue chests puffing up and eyebrow duels as Henry asks, “There a problem here?”

Ex, “Oh look, your boss himself to say you’ve been taking too long.”

Henry fires back, “I’m her husband not her boss and I don’t like your tone!”

“Husband?” You mouth to Kal who is looking up at you with tail wagging.

Ex smirks looking Henry over, “Sure went all out on picking the biggest guy I town. No doubt you like the fights, she’ll love to put you through the rounds.”

Henry cockily fired back, “I doubt you knew how to treat a woman, we don’t fight, leaves more time for the bedroom. But I doubt you’d know much about how to treat a woman there either.”

Oc rolls eyes and mumbled something making Kal walk away luring Henry after her post final snarky remarks and glares between guys. Once he catches up with her she swats him in his middle after he rests his arm around her back. “Married?!”

“What, he-...”

“He knows my grandmother! Who was not invited or even informed about an engagement, relationship let alone the wedding!”

“I-..”

“I’m all she has! She raised me! And she’s heard nothing! Husband?! Really?! We barely talk aside from Kal! You just made my grandma cry! I hope you’re happy!”

He shrugged, “It could have been an out of the country non legal ceremony to calm her down.”

“How does that help? And more time for the bedroom?! Of course he wouldn’t know anything about my bedroom because we never had sex! We barely lasted three weeks.” She said swatting his middle again making him fight not to chuckle at how hard you made it look compared to the soft taps she was giving him.

Looking at Kal she asked, “You wouldn’t ever do this to a person would you?” He barks and bobs his head making her gesture to him, “See!”

Henry scoffs, “He does that all the time! Hey boy you want to drove the car?” Kal flatly looks at him cocking his head to the side.

“Even he knows you’re nonsense.” Shaking her head.

“Look, i’ll help you patch things with your grandmother.”

“Really? What about Becky in personnel?” His brow inched up, “Because he’s screwing her, now she’s gonna know, meaning by tomorrow everyone’s gonna know.”

“No they won’t.”

She nods, “Ok, head back up then.”

He does, and sure enough they all are talking about it by the end of the day and he calls her, “What type of ring do you want?”

“Oh, I take it they know then?”

“Bill from accounting is upset he wasn’t invited.”

“And just how did you fix that?”

“We need to book a venue.” She face palms. And he mutters, “Where do you want to get married?”

“I don’t know, you sure you haven’t already told someone where it’s being held?”

“No, but Kal is the ring bearer. And has to wear a vest and top hat.”

“How exactly did you move up in this company?”

“I am beginning wonder that myself.”

Cue wedding planning and talks of moving in together on top of plans to meet the family including one very protective grandmother who is not going to give him an easy time with this either. All sprinkled with him falling head over heels even more for his wife.

[writingwithcolor]

I’m writing a story in which a nation of nonhumans, having been trapped in a pocket dimension for two millenia, integrates into human society. Would it be insensitive to have them successfully argue that, as they were indigenous peoples of the Americas, they should be legally recognized as a Native American tribe with tribal sovereignty? Native Americans (specifically of the Ojibwe tribe) magically trapped them in the first place, but I’m hoping that’s ok because all humans have magic, not just

“Native American mystics” or w/e, and the character designs aren’t based off any NA myths. But they’re VERY inhuman, resembling animals, and a subplot is that they’re called “monsters” so often they begin to embrace/reclaim the term. It’s mainly just a device to deal with the logistics of integrating thousands of new people (with their own established government) into the American political system at once, so I can scrap it if needed.

Ancient Monsters Indigenous to America; Should They be Called Native?

So. There are four parts to this question, based off how you’ve worded the question. 

1- Native Americans Shunning An “Okay” Group

2- Native American Monsters

3- Imposing Monsters Where None Exist

4- What Makes Someone Native

One at a time:

Native Americans Shunning an Okay Group

If these inhuman people are a genuine threat or were a genuine threat, then this is less relevant. But even if some of them were a threat, and the whole group was shunned, you end up recreating a big piece of racism in modern day:

Natives hate outsiders “needlessly.” If only they gave this group a chance, they’d find out they weren’t that bad. But they’re too mean to do that.

The modern caution around Native and colonizer culture mixing is, as the term implies, modern. Natives didn’t necessarily shun outsiders, and as evident by how colonizers needed us to survive for awhile, they were relatively welcoming early on. In Canada, we even have a whole group of people who were born out of intermarriage between traders and Native people: the Metis.

But non-Natives tend to take this caution as an insult, because they assume they should be welcomed with open arms despite the atrocities committed. Colonizers have far, far, far exceeded the threshold for “general mistrust”, but they don’t realize it. They think everything should be fine, because schools teach only that Natives used to be welcoming, but then turned mean and jealous without saying why.

For example, when I was in my teens, my grandma went on a probably 15-30 minute rant about how my (white) cousin wasn’t allowed to work horticulture on the local reserve because it was taking jobs away from Native people. My whole family spent the next hour agreeing with her, how they really were just so closed off and mean, he was just trying to help.

Now factor in how the largest group of unemployed people in Canada is Native people, because they lack job skills from a lack of opportunity. Now consider how horticulture was actually one of our specialties and there’s still a lot of tradition around how to take care of the land. And how a white person fresh out of college with a degree was being brought in as the “expert.” And how he was doing the work, instead of helping people on the reserve do the work (which would allow them to put landscaping skills on their resume, giving them a foot in the door)

Suddenly that “unnecessary shunning” makes a whole lot more sense, doesn’t it?

I want to know why the Ojibwe sealed them off. Because I highly doubt such a drastic action would’ve been taken if they were truly a benevolent group. 

Native American Monsters

And this is where things get touchier.

I want to ask all writers who want Indigenous monsters to ask themselves one question: why do you want to tie Indigenous identity to “monster” so strongly?

It’s a fixation I see time and again: the concept of Indigenous people as inhuman, as having ties to the inhuman, as having ties to creatures who could be feared. 

If these monsters are a complex society, are intelligent, are generally… people, then you’ve fallen more heavily into the first point I mentioned (which I’m uncomfortable with) but mitigate this part. They’re shown as people-like and worthy of respect, then it might work as showing Indigenous people aren’t inhuman.

Or it might further reinforce the concept that all Indigenous people are monsters.

Which one it does depends on the writing. Either way, it’s something I’m deeply uncomfortable with, just from sheer exposure. A lot of the questions I receive are about dark, twisted, criminal, or otherwise monstrous Indigenous people. Like, about half the questions. It’s a lot.

Why are we tied so strongly to monsters? What about Native identity makes this such an easy connection? Why just the monsters and none of our healing from them?

Why?

Imposing Monsters Where None Exist

Further, it’s honestly a bit weird to me that they don’t come Ojibwe/Great Lakes legends. Because I’d assume sealing away a whole population of monsters would merit some oral legends and teachings for how to seal them back away should they return. And these monsters would bleed into other peoples’ legends, with how each creature as a concept spread across such a wide landmass and across so many peoples. So everywhere these monsters touched, there’d be some version of the story.

It’s a little too close to playing god with real religions for me. Indigenous oral legends around the globe are meticulous, and when analyzed are as solid as written history. Creating a group of monsters that are not based in our stories, that have no oral histories and legends, just has me wondering how this impacted society. 

Monsters have a place in Indigenous society. They are cautions, they are warnings, they are sickness, they teach lessons about how to care for the earth and/or yourself to starve off the monster’s approach. 

(And no, this doesn’t contradict the fixation on Monstrous Natives. Why do you fixate on the monsters and not how we heal from them? I specify “we” because there’s a tendency to make the antithesis of Native monsters Christian, which further colonizers the narrative. We had our own ways of healing)

Indigenous people, in general, have history from around the Ice Age (Australian Aboriginals have from during if not before). Two millennia is nothing for the oral history, even if you brought in the angle that the stories were genocided out in the residential school system (Which would be a very touchy subject as well). Because something that big would be spread among a dozen tribes, and would have threads that survived in whispers.

Indigenous religions aren’t a mythology playground where you can free-reign insert or remove whole concepts like sealing away monsters willy-nilly. 

I’d run this concept by somebody Ojibwe before proceeding. They might find a way to make it work, or they might tell you that there’d be a much deeper cultural impact than can be handled by an outsider.

What Makes Someone Native

Here’s the thing: being Native isn’t just about how we were here first.

There’s taking care of the land. There’s our language. There’s our unity to each other. There’s our religion. There’s so much nuance to what makes somebody Native that goes beyond just time spent on the continent. 

Each tribe has its own definition of what it means to be part of the tribe. The government doesn’t always line up with who we are, but we have our own definition. A lot of basic principles are similar (sustainability, for one), but the nuance for each people will be different.

And the government still doesn’t recognize all the tribes that were self-governing peoples before colonizers got here. That fact alone makes it a stretch to believe these monsters could successfully argue to the government they belong as Native. The only reason I could see it as successful is the government rather overtly assuming Native people are monsters, which codifies the above.

You’ve got to keep in mind that the government wants as few Natives to exist as possible. Because the more Natives exist, the more political power we have, the more resources the government has to allocate towards us, and we are seen as an inconvenience. 

Getting off the registry of Native people is laughably easy. Getting back on is notoriously hard. This isn’t a case of “have a hearing and the government gives you full status rights.” It’s “we have petitioned the government to have our claim to this land recognized for literally hundreds of years and now they’re about to bulldoze our sacred land so we have to protest to put a stop to it and suffer the arrests and deaths required to keep our land safe and hope that this protest gets enough pressure on the government to have them back off.”

(True story. The latter describes the Oka Crisis, which thankfully did have the land restored, but not until 1 death on each side, and 75 Mohawk and allies injured. And it was a long, long, long drawn out process).

Natives are, technically, wards of the state. The more Natives exist, the more people the state has to take care of. And history proves the state absolutely hates taking care of Native people.

Overall

This feels off in multiple ways, for me. It’s treating our legends as if they’re just frilly decorations that don’t deeply inform our culture, for starters, then there’s how no matter which way it’s sliced it’s reinforcing some sort of racist idea about Natives: either we shun “good” groups for no reason, or we’re tied to monsters. Then there’s the assumption our identity can be easily expanded to include a nonhuman group when it’s more complicated than that. There’s also the assumption the government would actually work to add more people it has to take care of.

You’re going to need to do a lot more research and reach out to a lot more sensitivity readers. It’s so far removed from who we are and our cultural identity I’d take a good hard look at the concept before continuing.

~ Mod Lesya

COMMENTARY:

@octopodesinmybutt

So the concept of "indigenous monsters sealed away" would actually work really well with Irish mythology about the Fae/Tuatha de Danon. They're considered the real indigenous ppl of Ireland. It's a bit more complex than that, but you could look into it.

[thugnan]

The Final Scene (PC 2001)

Story: 7/10

Characters: 5/10

Puzzles: 7/10

Chores: 7/10

Final Rating: 6/10

Every now and then I’ll come back to this one because it is one of the shorter ones. The story line is straightforward, and there aren’t too many obnoxious puzzles. I don’t know if it’s because we’re brought back to the stage, I get some Stay Tuned for Danger vibes. It’s s little gitchy, but I’ve only been stuck (i.e. forgot to pick up something I needed later) once in the 4 times I’ve played it. The characters aren’t as memorable, but I enjoyed the setting and the idea of being trapped in a building for 3 days. This game is successful in regards to weaving the history of Henry Houdini into the plot without it getting too preachy.

 Plot (spoilers obviously):

Nancy is invited to a movie premiere screening by her friend Maya, who is working on an article for her university and was able to get early access. When she goes into the interview room however, she is kidnapped through a secret passage. 

Thug Nan snaps into action and breaks that door down, unfortunately we are too late. Not too late to answer a threatening phone call from the perpetrator. B i t c h don’t test me. The theater they’re at is scheduled to be demolished in 3 days and the culprit is just not havin it. He wants Thug Nan to stop it, or else Maya is about to be demolished too. 

No one tells Thug Nan what to do, so we go hustle everyone in the building:

Brady Armstrong: Whoopy, another Rick Arlen type, but slightly smarter? Brady’s dressing room is where Maya disappeared, he is the star of the movie so she was going to interview him. He was not in the dressing room at the time of her disappearance, allegedly. 

Simone: If I remember my last play through correctly, she’s not the culprit but boy do I dislike her. She’s Brady’s manager, and needs more of an attitude check than he does. She’s good and ready to exploit the hell out of the kidnapping scandal. 

(Nicholas) Falcone: Idk how this guy got in here, but he’s organizing a protest to protect the building. Makes one think that we should be keeping an eye on him, but tbh I don’t think he has the brain power for it. He’s one of my favorite characters regardless. #FightThePower

Joseph: Joe here runs the theater and shows zero concern for my friend’s safety, but appears to be the only one willing to try looking for her. 

Yeah for some reason no one here g i v e s   a   s h i t about your kidnapped friend. You call the police and even they’re like “homes we can’t do anything for 24 hours.” Which is a lie btw, if you ever find yourself in a situation where someone goes missing, please call the police as soon as possible. 

Thug Nan has to do everything herself, it’s fine we got this. Falcone is cool even tho everyone seems to hate him? Tbh he helps me the most, cause turns out his granny got jipped by the original owner of the theater, JJ Thompson. How ya gonna do my girl dirty like that Thompson? Thug Nan is going to have to set things straight.

After funking around with Houdini’s old magic “tricks”, we find the room where Maya is being kept it. Unfortunately, not only can we not reach her, someone traps us before we can do anything about it. Joseph helps us out, but by the time we get into the room, she’s gone. 

Also someone tries to electrocute us? Which is taking it a lil too far, but as we soon find out  this perpetrator is a little unhinged.

Meanwhile, Brady’s manager has a press conference, and you know what that means? I’m about to go thru people shit. We find out that:

Joseph doesn’t have a back up plan if the theater plans fall thru, his original plan involved moving to a small town with his brother to open a new theater, but turns out his brother is dead :C Smoking is bad kids.

Simone ordered the creepy AF funeral wreath someone delivered to the theater that morning. 

Brady needs help apparently because he thinks he’s being held hostage by his manager. Is it horrible that I’m having a hard time feeling bad for this guy?

We find out that Falcone’s granny wasn’t the only one Thompson ripped off, he tried ripping of Henry Houdini himself. He ended up having to sell off part of his theater, so technically, the current owner, B Thompson, doesn’t have the authority to bulldoze it down. 

Thug Nan gets in contact with Houdini’s decedent, who also doesn’t give two shits about the theater or our problems. But she puts us in contact with the Library of Congress to see if we can find something that can help us. 

On the third day, Thug Nan discovers that Brady is actually B Thompson. He thinks theaters are lame and is knocking it down to make some sort of ego-inflating museum(?). Thug Nan tries to talk him into delaying the demolition until they find Maya, but Brady is like “Nah, ThAt sOuNdS LiKE a PoOr PeOpLeS PrObLeM.” Fortunately, Falcone tells us that there’s a package from the Library of Congress for us. 

When we get to the projection room to use the projector to see the contents of the package (idk why son couldn’t send a paper copy but ok), the construction crew announces the ‘all clear’. We need to gtfo out there and pronto, but not without our gal Maya. The file from the Library of Congress implies that Falcone’s grandma owned a part of the theater. We also find a set of blueprints that show a secret passageway out of the projection room. 

It’s awfully convenient because Joseph shows up to lock us in there. There is no talking sense into him, he doesn’t appear to be all there, like bitch we’re all gonna die, they already announced the all clear. What’s the point of holding Maya hostage if they don’t know if she's in here??

In the secret passage, we find Maya, but there’s no time to get her out, we about to go down. We got to find a way of signaling that we’re in here still. Joseph CONTINUES TO NOT GET IT. He tries to stop me, which would kill all of us? I thought he wanted to stop the demolition? Which is what I’m trying to do? B I T C H WE’RE ON THE SAME PAGE! We may or may not blind him in self defense, but we manage to turn on the sign outside and stop the demolition. 

Turns out, Joseph's original plan was to kidnap Brady, but when Maya showed up in his dressing room unexpectedly, he defaulted to her. I just think it’s cute that he thought he could take on a physically fit adult male as a skinny af old man, but okay. 

Falcone and Brady become the bestest of friends and restore the theatre. THE END. 

[gimmetheheadcanons]

don’t sit down, he’s moved your chair (1/3)

A/N: First Bonkai and barely edited so be gentle. Inspired by a funny post I saw on tumblr about purposefully hiring a nightmare Thanksgiving guest.

----------------------------- 

Break a mirror//Roll the dice//Run with scissors through a chip and fryer fight//Go into business with a grizzly bear//But just don’t sit down ‘cause I’ve moved your chair. ----Arctic Monkeys//Don’t Sit Down Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair 

---------------------------

1.     The Deal. 

“You won't believe what bomb my grams decided to drop on me three frickin’ days before Thanksgiving Elena!”

“Was it - now my child, you are getting too old to sit on my lap.”

The voice Bonnie Bennett found on the other side was unsympathetic and unmistakably male. She had been lazily pushing her shopping cart through the narrow aisles of a busy grocery store when Mr. Not-Elena’s surprise impersonation of her grandmother brought her to a sudden halt. Cue the chorus of irritated tongue clicks, a barrage of choice curses (all very colorful) and echoing groans from the shoppers behind her.

Bonnie ignored them all. 

Yeah yeah, we hear you, she thought as a train of angry customers and their carts passed her by, but only after an exchange of death glares as a final parting gift. No one wanted to be here running last minute Turkey Day errands. Least of all Bonnie. But she’d been bulldozed by her grandma and in no mood to be so agreeable again.

What a sham of a holiday. 

When she was done redirecting traffic with her free hand, Bonnie turned to the man on the other line – the one inexplicably answering her best friend’s cell. Feeling even less festive than she did a moment ago she made her demand for answers.    

“Who is this?” She snapped.

The stranger simply chuckled in return.

“I mean it pal.”

 “Pal?”

 Another mocking laugh.

 “They're your minutes.” The stranger declared before lowering his tone to be more sultry. Another borrowed voice, this time a phone sex line operator with the intention to seduce Bonnie.

 “Who'd you want me to be?”  

 Of course. The theatrics should’ve given it away, but then again ‘obvious’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘less infuriating’.

 Bonnie rolled her eyes as she figured out which idiot it was she was dealing with.

 “Oh God. Damon.”

 “Ding ding, well done.”

 Who else would take such delight in rubbing salt into her wound.

 “Aren't you too dumped to be answering your ex's phone like this?”

 “Eh we're trying the whole friend thing.” Damon Salvatore finally responded and in his own voice, flippant and full of trouble.

 Bonnie shook her head as she always did when confronted by Damon and Elena’s drama.

“And?” She asked but stopping short of adding the intended (and wholly judgemental) final part of that sentence: What else is new.

“It sucks. Massively.” Damon whined, and it was Bonnie’s turn to chuckle at his misery.

 It took her a while to warm to the man her childhood friend made the monumental mistake of getting romantically involved with. But Bonnie finally did and now cared enough to make a mental note to schedule another intervention for him once the holidays were over.

 The break up couldn’t have come soon enough and Damon just needed to hear that.  

 Still, it must’ve hurt like hell.

 “Tell me about it.” Bonnie said with a little more kindness. She too was recovering from the end of a rough relationship. There was somewhat of an odd camaraderie developing between her and Damon Salvatore and perhaps that was the reason for it – bonding over the shared humiliation of being jilted by a Gilbert.

 Except Bonnie was sure she’d gotten the short end of the stick. Her Gilbert, sweet baby brother Jeremy Gilbert, turned out to be a cheat. Damon, on the other hand, was far more culpable than Bonnie when it came to his heartbreak.  

  “You should hang up. Before she sees you.”

“Sees me doing what? What’s a little chinwag between pals?”

 With no longer a mystery to distract her, Bonnie resumed her shopping. Departing from her grandmother’s grocery list, she almost swept clean an entire shelf of sugary snacks.

Straight into the cart you all go.

 Necessary reinforcements, something to get her through the misery of the next few days.

 “Honestly you’re acting a little paranoid Bon Bon. What’s wrong?” Damon said, further insisting his innocence with an artificial sweetness that even Bonnie, with all her cravings, found a little too sickly.

 “So, we're just gonna pretend you weren't snooping around in her mail box? See who Elena's texting now you're supposedly done done.”

 “Ha! Trick question. She isn't texting anyone...not anymore anyway.”

 “Damon! You ca-”

“One second, got a quick text I need to send.”

 Cut off mid-speech Bonnie could still hear Damon in the background reading aloud the messages he typed out on his ill-gotten device. She’d been forcibly made party to this unethical intrusion into Elena Gilbert’s personal life.

 Great. More relationship awkwardness on the horizon.

  “New phone who dis…question mark. Send. Block. New phone who dis…question mark. Send. Block.”

 Growing impatient with his behavior, Bonnie tried to get Damon’s attention by calling out his name and a couple important facts about boundaries – all of which his disturbing ass chose to ignore.

 “Aaand send. Aaand block. Okay done now.”

 Damon was back.

 “Damon what di – ”

 “Hey, call me back on mine?”

 And just as suddenly, Damon was gone.

 -----------   Bonnie had been shopping for about fifteen minutes when phone rang. It had been a strangely peaceful fifteen minutes, the chaos all around the store provided the perfect backdrop for some pensive sulking. Deep in thought yet frustratingly unable to formulate a plan to get out of Thanksgiving dinner this year, moping was all Bonnie had and she was prepared not to have it interrupted by Damon Salvatore.

 Pressing to reject had bought another fifteen minutes of peace and Bonnie accomplished plenty with that time. Groceries had been paid for, then bagged, and placed in her Prius. She still no plan but the self-pity had begun to wane enough for her to want to pick up should the phone ring again.

 It did, whilst she was on route to return her now empty cart, and this time she answered.

 “Damon?”

Silence on the other end.

Bonnie cursed the pettiness of the man she could clearly hear breathing.

 “Damn it Damon. Hello?”

 When Damon eventually answered, Bonnie had her finger on the end call button and her car keys in her hand. The sun hadn’t set yet, but the temperature dropped significantly since she’d first gotten to the store. She watched as a wave of new arrivals fought over parking spaces, the escalating drama made it impossible for other drivers to leave further exacerbating the situation. By the carts, under a flimsily built shelter, Bonnie hugged her body against the November cold and decided to wait it out.

 “So bombs huh?” Damon asked, he sounded a little out of breath. He was somewhere outside too. Out walking. Bonnie couldn’t help speculating as to why he’d suddenly decided to brave the fierce frost.  

 “Where’s Elena?”

 “Oh I don't know Bonnie!” She could hear him shiver before he spoke and imagined his lips turn a biting shade of blue to match his eyes. Icicles hanging from his black hair and that stupid leather jacket, like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon.  

 “I'm not her babysitter. Didn’t you get the memo – we’re finished.”

 Bonnie scoffed before placing the phone in between her shoulder and ear to free up her freezing hands. She then pushed them into the warm pockets of her long, red winter coat and there felt around for a pair of thick gloves.

  In the end, she was only able to fish out one.

 “Fine,” said Damon, misconstruing Bonnie’s silence as directed at him disapproval. “If I had to guess I’d say…out looking for her phone.”

“Oh my God, move on Damon!”

“This is not normal behaviour!”

 She hadn’t intended on yelling so angrily that her phone nearly dropped to the ground, but Bonnie was furious. She’d just bought those gloves yesterday to match her knitted beanie, how could one be gone already?

  “Oh shush. It's perfectly Ross and Rachel, trust me. We're gonna get back together. Maybe. Probably.”

The battle for parking continued to wage on, as did the icy wind and Bonnie needed better shelter at least until one of those things passed. Defeated, she headed back to the store she’d thought she’d just escaped.

 “You know what Damon, the most disturbing part of that is you're probably right. But I got too much on plate for your drama so good luck to you both I guess.”

 Just inside by the entrance, Bonnie found a nice heating vent to camp next to. She flashed the large security guard at the door an awkward smile and pointed to her cell phone, pretending bad cell coverage was the real culprit behind her return.

 All she got in return was that menacing security guard scowl.

 Anxious to stay indoors, Bonnie found herself turn to the desperate act of pleading with her eyes; a survival tactic she picked up from orphaned pups in a kennel she volunteered at one summer back in high school. Every day there, she tried to adopt them all and every day she was told she couldn’t.

  “Helloooo Bonnieeeee?”

 She could hear Damon singing her name, off-key and right into her ear. Each time a little louder, little more annoying. But Bonnie couldn’t risk breaking eye contact with the guard. Her hazel eyes were beginning to sting, her face ached from the unnatural width of her smile; it growing increasingly more manic and pained.

 No one loitering here. Nothing to see sir, please move on.

 Strange as it was, it somehow worked. An incident came in over the intercom and the guard called to action. Bonnie could stay and not lose a limb to frostbite.  

 Thank God for Thanksgiving tantrums.

 “I’m still here Damon.”

 “Finally! So, what exactly did wily old Sheila do?”

 Crap, she’d almost forgotten it. The problem, still intractable and inching closer.

 “Oh nothing except invite my disaster deadbeat mom for Thanksgivings dinner. Three courses of sweet emotional manipulation followed by forced reconciliation over coffee.”

 “‘Tis the season I guess.”

 “‘Tis not fair is what it is.” Bonnie immediately howled back then felt ashamed closely after.

 Damon sounded a little more serious when he spoke next.

 “So…How many years has it been?”

 She sighed before taken a moment to do the math. Talking about the woman who birthed her then ditched her was always a sore subject for Bonnie.

 “Six and before that seven I think. She just showed up one night, stayed half a day and left before dinner. Pulled the same crappy move the time before that. Except, she brought me a stupid doll I guess.”

 “I was childish enough to think it was awesome.”

 The memory of that cheap doll flooded Bonnie’s insides with bitter rage. What she didn’t tell Damon was how she was pretty certain the doll was something Abby Bennett picked up at a gas station just outside of Mystic Falls. Bonnie figured that out last summer when she, Elena and their friend Caroline Forbes planned to take their college tour road trip. Except, she didn’t make it past Whitmore; somehow, even with all those miles between them, Abby managed to ruin that for her daughter too.

“Ouch. Sounds like mommy Bennett is gunning for the illustrious Lilly Salvatore Award for Monstrous Mothers and Their Tortured Offspring.

 “Ouch.” Bonnie said, meaning it. Damon didn’t often talk about his parents but oddly enough when he did it wasn’t with Elena. It was something Bonnie remembered her best friend call attention to night after night during the build up to the end of their doomed romance.

 He won’t let me in Bon. Each time, he either laughs or lashes out. How am I supposed to deal with that?

 As her friend poured out her heart, Bonnie poured herself another drink and kindly pretended she didn’t understand the appeal of shutting down, of keeping your loved ones out and precious sunny moments away from dark storm clouds of your past.

 “I don’t want to see her Damon.”

“So don't go. Problem solved.”

 “But I promised Grams. I didn’t mean to, but she worked her magic and somehow got to me.”

 “Then go and bail after you’ve had a mouthful of tasty bird.” Damon said making it sound all so easy.

 “But bailing isn't my thing. So…other options? Please.”

 “Fine, stay. All the way till pie, have said pie and chew slow. Very slow.”

 She was losing his sympathy, Bonnie could tell. Life was always easy for the Damon Salvatores of the world, consequences be damned. The only options were their way or their way but a little bumpier, littered with the bodies he had to mercilessly mow down.

 “I can’t stay either.” Bonnie admitted. Just the thought made her queasy. Being sat opposite Abby for an entire day, being made to bite her tongue or make empty conversation about God knows what. Swallow all that hurt then let it fester inside her for another six or seven years until it bubbled up to the surface at the most inconvenient of times.  

 No, Bonnie wouldn’t be able to stomach it.

 “Then we’re back to option a) Don't frickin’ go.”

 “But Grams -”

 “Well then that sounds like a you problem Bon. I gave you all your choices. Now pick one or call a friend.”

 “I thought I was calling a frie – hello? Damon? Hello?”

 A cold dial tone emitted from her cell. Damon’s voice was long gone, and Bonnie was left standing with one less thing to be thankful for on this crappy holiday – her so called friends.

 “Jerk. What did I even expect?” Bonnie found herself muttering, at first angrily and then louder.

 “Not meaningful advice. Oh no! Never from you Damon, you bloodsucking cold-eyed asshole!”

 With her call completed, her nemesis the store security guard reappeared ready to add to Bonnie’s misery and kick her outside to either face the mayhem or mace-like wind.

 “Ma’am, you’re not buying so I want you out of here.”

 “I’m going! Jeez, just give me a second.”

 “Sure, you were.” He snorted as he grabbed Bonnie by her arm and without warning began to steer her towards the exit. When she resisted the niceties were dropped.  

 “Out. Now.”

 Bonnie was about to give the unreasonable man a piece of her mind and teach him a thing or two about personal space when another person got there first.

 An onlooker, male, maybe college-aged and casually munching on a bag of what looked like pork rinds.

 “Hey man,” He called out to the security guard, his voice light and non-confrontational. “You wanna back off a little? Really wouldn’t wanna lose a hand.”

 The guard stopped long enough for Bonnie to free herself from his grip. He watched the guy with wary eyes as if trying to discern if an actual threat was being made. Bonnie understood the hesitation, there was something off about the way the words were delivered and yet on the surface Pork Rind Guy seemed only interested in consuming his gross snack. The relaxed grin he wore on his face, akin to that of an entertained moviegoer not a someone roaring for a throw down with a much larger man.

 Every so often, in between bites, he’d attempt to throw a piece in the air and catch it with his mouth but be left smacking his lips at air like a fish; each portion bouncing right off the short brown hairs on his head and onto the floor. There, he’d kick at them with the grim looking muddy sneakers he wore on his feet.

 He was a child, a man yes, but barely.

 A nuisance.

Bonnie could tell the guard decided the same thing and was ready to dismiss the interfering stranger as such when Pork Rind Guy opened his mouth to speak again.

 “Yeah…especially that one.” He said pointing at the guard’s left hand. “With it being so close to the holidays you’re gonna wanna keep the company.”

 Bonnie’s eyes widened.

 With a twinkle in his blue eyes and no regrets, Pork Rind Guy made a lewd gesture with his own left hand and laughed.

 It was a great laugh. Free and big. The kind of laugh you’d hear as you passed a playground. Yet, Bonnie felt embarrassed by it and everything else about him. The gesture included. It was immature, meant to grate on you and it made her cringe a little.

 The gesture had a different impact on the guard. His face flushed red with anger and Bonnie knew it was time to throw in the towel and just go.

 As she used the distraction to quietly slip away, she could hear the burly security guard bark at the younger man and Pork Rind Guy’s response made her smile a little.

 “You need to get out of my face son.”

“Could you like – not wave that so close to my face?”

 “Get out of here! Right now!”

 Bonnie glanced back just in time to see Pork Rind Guy throw her a wink. It came right after he’d finally succeeded in catching a pork rind with his mouth.

 How childish, Bonnie thought, shaking her head but this time smiling a lot.

 ----------------

 By the time Bonnie got close to her car, the traffic situation had died down considerably and she didn’t expect to be held up much longer; and yet, in typical Thanksgiving fashion, she’d been too hasty in giving thanks.

 “Hey.”

 Pork Rind Guy, materializing out of nowhere and coming in between her and her car.

 Startled, Bonnie frowned and looked around to see if they’d be joined by their old friend the security guard, finally able to do his job and provide said security.

 The question is, however, would she be needing it.

 Pork Rind Guy seemed oblivious to Bonnie’s alarm. His right arm reached deep into the jumbo bag of rinds he still cradled and not her throat like the parking lot assailant Bonnie worried he might be.

 If this encounter were going to turn into an NBC Dateline special then it’d have to wait whilst he hunted for crumbs.  

 When done, Pork Rind Guy cast aside the empty packet and finally addressed the perplexed person he’d delayed.

 “So I just wanted to tell you – before you go – there is always one other option. Bring a date. A human buffer.”

 It took Bonnie a full minute to gather her wits enough to follow what Pork Rind Guy was trying to tell her. She still didn’t understand how he managed to get away from the guard and out to the parking lot in time to catch her, why he did so and if he was a danger.

 Keys readied in her fist, Bonnie asked for an explanation.

 “Excuse me?”

 Pork Rind Guy smiled and again it was full of boyish charm.  

 “Someone to draw fire and guess what? I got the perfect shirt for that!”

 He puffed out his chest and pulled at the bottom of his t-shirt to straighten it out.

 “See?”

What Bonnie saw was a logo, right in the middle and against the blueish gray of the rest of his shirt. It was red and round, like a bullseye but probably belonged to a band she’d never heard of.  

 “Draw fire at dinner.” He repeated, and this time Bonnie understood.

 Pork Rind Guy was referring to her earlier conversation with Damon about Thanksgiving dinner with her mom.

 Bonnie felt a chill and it had nothing to do with the weather. Had their run in earlier been planned and if so why? She examined the parking lot for others and was relieved to find they weren’t alone. Several shoppers still close enough to call on if things got unsafe.

 Nothing about this guy felt right and Bonnie had heard enough. She snuck quick glance at the car sat behind him, her ticket out of this progressively creepy conversation. Good, Pork Rind Guy didn’t seem to be blocking the door. In fact, there was plenty of space behind him where Bonnie could pass him by and then get the hell out of there.  

 “Uhm thanks but I gotta go.”

 “Hey hey hey! Wait a minute.”

 In one quick motion, Pork Rind Guy positioned him directly against Bonnie’s door and successfully cut her off from her escape route.

 Bonnie braced herself for worse to follow, but was surprised to see him then, just as smoothly, step aside. Nothing about this guy felt right, Bonnie knew that and yet she didn’t get in her car and drive away.

 “What do you want?”

 His lips curled into a satisfied smile when she turned to face him.

 They were now stood a little too close for comfort. Bonnie could feel the hot air of his breath on her lips, see the goose bumps on the pale skin of his exposed neck and decided that’s where the sharp end of her keys would go if he took one more step towards her.

 But Pork Grind Guy didn’t. In fact, he fell back, held up his hands and apologized.

 “I'm sorry. That was weird right? Kinda? A little?”

 Bonnie didn’t respond, just watched him with narrowed eyes as he took it upon himself to tally up all the reasons why everything he’d done up until now was inappropriate.

 “No it's alright to admit it...that was weird. With me just showing up at your car like that.  Outta nowhere with all this information about a conversation we personally didn’t have. I know, I know. I’m an eavesdropper. I admit.”

 Another smile, brief and full of humor.

 “And then that proposition? Yikes! What even was that? No, no, no. No good. at all!”

 Bonnie relaxed a little but not enough to put away her car keys and retire her plans to go for the jugular.  

“Let's try again. Hi, my name is Kai. Well it’s actually Malachai but since I'm trying not to frighten you away with a name straight out of Necronomicon I think Kai will do just fine.”

 “By the way, have you seen that film? God, Bruce Campbell. What a guy right?”

 “Sorry, rude again. What's your name?”

  “Bonnie and I gotta head home now.”

 “I’m expected.” She quickly added, angrily wondering why she told him her real name. Was it because earlier, he was essentially asking for her home address and this was the lesser of two evils?

 Either way, she wouldn’t slip up again.

 “I need go home now Kai. It’s cold and I’m very tired.”

 Pork Rind Guy – no – Kai dropped his jaw when she said his name. It was exaggerated for effect, but she could see he was somehow flattered by the show of trust when she told him hers.

 “Bonnie.”

 He celebrated by repeating her name back to her, saying every letter with great purpose and pleasure.  

 “Nice to meet you Bonnie.”

 “Well Bonnie, it sounds to me like you were having a rough day. Got a bit of a situation at the home front huh?”

 “I wanna help with that.”

 Bonnie blinked as confusion set in once again.

“Excuse me.”

 “For the reasonable price of one home cooked Thanksgiving dinner. I, Kai Parker, will be your date.”

 “Eh yeah…No thanks.”  

 Bonnie felt a little relieved but also self-conscious, was Damon right, was this perfectly normal and she just not to used to guys hitting on her?

 “Oh no, you got it all wrong. I'll be your date. The one all girls sooner or later bring home to screw with their parents. I'll be the mistake.”

 Kai continued to explain, and Bonnie again found herself not walking away when she easily could have.

 “I've been told, on many occasions, that I'm every parent’s nightmare. Imagine, Grams drops a bomb and you Bonnie, drop a nuke.”

 Every parent’s nightmare, why did Bonnie have no trouble believing that. Kai was cute but on balance also a major creep with awful taste so no, of course most girls would have no interest in inviting him home to meet their families. End of November and he’s dressed like a stoner extra in a bad nineties high school movie. Faded t-shirt and long sleeves combo, three-quarter cargo pants and sneakers.

 In this weather.

 Who does that?

 Valid question Bon.

 “And why would I invite a perfect stranger into my home?” She asked him, for the first time saying more than four words. He must’ve noticed too, how her curiosity got the better of her because his face lit up like a Christmas tree. It was too soon for that crap, Bonnie thought, gripping her keys a little tighter.

 “Because that's the beauty of it! After Thanksgiving, I go back to being a perfect stranger. Who else can say that?”

 “No baggage.”

“No offense” Bonnie said flatly and with all the offense. “But that sounds like BS.”

 Kai appeared unfazed by her bluntness. As usual, the lack of warmth in her voice made him work only harder.    

 “If you ask me - which I know you're not but hear me out anyway – if you were asking me… what sounds like bullshit is having to spend Thanksgiving with a woman who gets to choose to walk in and out of your life at a moment's notice.”

“You should be able to the same Bonnie.”

 “That's what I think.”

 Bonnie inhaled deeply, thrown by the sudden sincerity with which he delivered that final line. She let a calculated stillness wash over her as she dealt with the sweltering emotion under the surface. She’d been affected by Kai’s words, the notion behind them appealing not to her but directly to the pain her small body had housed for all the years.

 “Pork rind?”

 Out of one of his pocket, Kai spontaneously produced a handful of the snack Bonnie saw him finish then offered it to her.  

 Bonnie’s eyes zeroed in on the lint particulars stuck to the grease of the rinds and declined.

 “I can see why you're so eager to worm your way to our dinner table.”

 Kai shrugged and stuffed the rinds back into his pocket. Eyes fixed firmly on hers, Bonnie knew there was another offer he was eager to see if she would accept.

 If not rinds Bonnie, how about retaliation?

  “What about your family? Won't they be expecting you?” She asked changing the subject.

 “Not if they changed the locks as they promised they would.”

 Again, Kai surprised her with his openness.  

 “Harsh.” Bonnie said yet not feeling the need to press Kai for any further details. In all her anger, she’d forgotten there were people out there who simply didn’t have families to spend Thanksgiving Day with.

 “Not everyone takes to my winning personality as you have.” Kai replied appearing to have sufficiently recovered from the solemnness of the moment.

Bonnie laughed and saw Kai’s entire face beam as if the sound of her laugh had been his goal all along.

 “Hold your horses buddy. I haven’t agreed to anything just yet.”  

“Sorry manners.” Kai said before he began to obsessively kick at the gravel and the dirt under his feet.

 “What is it now Kai? Dropped a pork rind?”

 Satisfied he’d made enough of a clearing, Kai Parker got down on one knee and held up a single pork rind in between his fingers like an engagement ring.

 Mortified, Bonnie’s face flushed at the sudden interest passing shoppers were beginning to show and the several prying looks being thrown their way.

  Kai cleared his throat.  

  “Bonnie, will you let me spend Thanksgiving Day with you and your family? I promise to be on my worst behaviour. Promise to shake your poor unsuspecting mother to core and show her the dangerous road her awful parenting choices may have led her beautiful baby girl.”

 A nod from her was enough of a signal for Kai to jump up to his feet and throw the absurd edible ring Bonnie refused over his shoulder; freeing up his hand for a more formal shake.  

 “Oh my bad.” He said only remembering to wipe the food grease from his palm and onto his pant leg after noticing the look of disgust on Bonnie’s face.

 That look didn’t change much when finally, clean enough to be once more presented to her, Kai simply held his hand up to his face and grinned.

 “Gotta make it legit right?” He told her before spitting straight onto his skin.

 “No backsies.”

One look at the wet hand in front her and Bonnie knew her instincts were right.

 Kai Parker was the worst.

 Yet any hesitation she may have grappled with since meeting him was gone at the mere prospect of her mother coming to a similar conclusion and doing so over a plate full of turkey at Grams’s house. With a grin of her own and a generous amount of spit, Bonnie Bennett shook on the deal; feeling for the first time all day, especially thankful for the perfectly awful Thanksgiving dinner to come.

[gumnut-logic]

Food, Tracy Style

Was feeling a bit down due to work. So I picked up today’s Fluffember prompt and let my fingers run with it. This is what happened. I hope you enjoy.

Fluffember Prompt #12 - Food.

-o-o-o-

Food in the Tracy household is a fugitive thing.

It has been known to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. It has been known to be squirrelled away as if a billionaire or six may suddenly run into famine. It has been known to be spooned gently into a sick family member.

It has been known to be wrapped in decorative paper and handed over as gifts.

Yes, food is very popular in the Tracy household.

Well, all the food that wasn’t cooked by Grandma that is.

Why does Grandma continues to cook ghastly concoctions even though everyone in the building, including the many appropriately positioned pot plants, knows that it is a major failing on her part? Only Grandma knows.

Virgil suspects it is simply out of love and a need to show how much she truly cares.

Alan secretly suspects it is a long term plan to summon a demon.

In any case, it is highly recommended to all guests that their grandmother’s cooking be avoided.

Or exorcised, according to Alan.

Each of the boys has their favourite foods of course and each their own quirks at consuming them.

Scott is efficient. That is the only word that can really be applied. He’s a busy man. Food is necessary. It gets eaten. His tastes are simple and easy. It’s food, he’s hungry, get out of my way, Gordon.

He can knock some eggs up, a good sandwich...don’t let him near the barbecue unless you desire charcoal for your meal. Seared steak apparently comes in shades of black.

Virgil, on the other hand, loves a good meal. Sure, he’s a busy man too, but there is a lot of him needing feeding and he has been known to take those few extra minutes over a meal just to enjoy it. A snooze afterwards never hurts. Digestion is something one’s body should enjoy.

Never get between Virgil and his meal. You may be bulldozed. Politely bulldozed, but flattened nonetheless. He’s a busy man. This is his time with his food, don’t interrupt, Gordon, shut up.

Virgil can cook. As long as it is steak.

There have been wars fought over the barbecue between the two eldest brothers.

Do not touch Virgil’s steak.

Particularly if you are Scott.

John appreciates a fine meal. Of the five brothers, he is the one who will know about the wine. He’ll know which region it came from, what it should be eaten with and which year grew the plant it was made from. This, of course, means he is the most likely culprit to steal Scott’s boutique beers out of the fridge...to the point that one of the first signs of the middle brother being back on Earth is the sudden missing bottles from said refrigerator.

Virgil thinks it is hilarious.

Scott’s worried his brother is a secret alcoholic and keeps monitoring his intake.

Alan keeps messing with Scott’s head by pinching extra bottles to ‘up John’s intake’.

Gordon messes with everyone by refilling the bottles with apple juice.

But yes, John is the one to appreciate a good meal, most likely because he has to eat all that space crap eighty percent of the time.

Virgil likes to make sure his brother gets a treat from time to time.

So John gets gifted lots of steak.

Alan is fed and watered regularly. With four older brothers, a sister and a grandmother, it is not like he has any choice. The appropriate quantities of vegetables and fruit are provided daily and his consumption noted. Any diversion from the menu is queried thoroughly and a health assessment performed, usually by a pair of stern blue eyes that take their responsibility ever so seriously.

Too bad those eyes have yet to work out that quite a bit of that food is delivered to the two pet hamsters he has stashed in his room. Also Buddy and Ellie consume a diet not recommended by any vet on Planet Earth.

Buddy and Ellie have been eyeing the hamsters for quite some time and are happy Alan is fattening them up.

The hamsters agree with Alan regarding Grandma’s cooking and often mistake Gordon for the demon she is apparently attempting to summon.

Alan doesn’t mind his diet too much. He knows his brothers just love him to death and the feeling is mutual. Plus Kayo slips him junk food on a regular basis. How she got hot churros to the Island still hot, he has yet to work out...Shadow is fast, but really?

As for Kayo, she eats what she wants to eat. No one is going to argue with her. Hey, you want the last pancake, be my guest, here have the maple syrup. After all, she did get her nickname from the big blowout of 2049. One cupcake, five skittle brothers and a very hungry young female bowling ball. Hey, you try growing up in a house full of men and boys. It is either kick ass or have yours handed to you. Gordon, touch that and you die.

Don’t mess with Kayo. Regarding food, or any topic for that matter. Just don’t mess with her. Take her name as a warning and stand back.

No one is quite sure what Grandma eats. Alan is pretty sure it isn’t her own cooking otherwise how could she have possibly lived this long? Virgil keeps an eye on her, makes sure she is happy and content and has everything she needs. Gordon once tried scientific method on his grandmother and her food consumption, leaving several tempting tidbits around the place fixed with sensors to see which would take her fancy. Results were inconclusive since Alan ate half the experiment.

Virgil poured pink dye in the pool and the hypothesis was abandoned.

Brains is the trash can of the Island. He will eat anything put within arm’s reach. The engineer finds food an inconvenient bodily function and often won’t stop working to fulfil his body’s needs. Food appears beside him, the one neuron not focussed on whatever he is doing declares the food his and it is consumed efficiently.

Virgil quickly learnt to keep his lunch out of Brains’ reach when they are working together. One too many instances of going hungry because of grabby food hands taught him quickly.

Gordon, of course, thinks it is hilarious. The aquanaut once sat quietly beside the working engineer and managed to feed him an entire cheesecake piece by piece.

Scott was not impressed when Brains threw up on his shoes fifteen minutes later during his maintenance report. Gordon, go to my office, now!

And that leaves Gordon.

Gordon is a seagull. If you’ve got it, he wants it, and he will nag you until you give it to him.

Of course, this doesn’t prevent him from acquiring his own. Seagulls are scavengers after all. Then he will sit at the table with his plate or bowl of whatever and quite calmly sit there pinching things off your plate.

Whether he does this to amuse himself, or he has a psychological disorder, none of the brothers have bothered to investigate. It’s just Gordon, slap his fingers as needed. Of course, Kayo doesn’t have a problem. No one would dare steal from her plate.

Well, he did try once. Most people think the scar on his hand is just one of those from the hydrofoil accident.

It isn’t.

Of course, there was the time where he ate the steak Scott and Virgil were arguing over. They didn’t realise it until a full ten minutes later, by which time Gordon was no longer in the room, taking the digesting steak with him.

Grandma got to bake him a cake for that one.

But yes, in general, food in the Tracy household is a little chaotic. There have been death threats, mild bruising, profanity, theft, slander, the occasional all out war and sometimes a whole pile of mischief. But honestly, under it all? There is a whole pile of love. Because push comes to shove, each and every Tracy, by name or not, will give their all to help another.

And that includes food.

Though Grandma’s cookies have been declared lethal weaponry and throwing one results in mandatory dish duty for a month. Gordon, for the love of everything, put that down now!

-o-o-o-

[hellimagines]

Combo -- Patrick Hockstetter

Masterlist

Request: “I really love Patrick (and Owen is my wet dream 😂) but always everyone do things where Patrick is mean and cruel so...i want to know if you can do something where Patrick falls in love with his neighbor a girl who loves read and music but he really fall in love with butterfly’s and he watches her by the window and be a really sweet and cute boy with the girl and obviously she loves him to ♥️ @oldvoicesinmyhead “ & “I saw that requests were open and I was wondering if you would write an imagine about Patrick Hockstetter pining after the reader???” & “yo so I don't have a specific request but could I get some Patrick Hockstetter fluff? Please?”

Summary: Patrick soon becomes best friends with his new neighbor, and things begin to kick off.

Warnings: slightly ooc!Patrick

Pairing: Patrick Hockstetter x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,600

A/N: So I kind of deterred from the request slightly, and I’m sorry in advance. Whoops

The sun overhead was blinding Patrick as he stared out his window, trying to focus on his new neighbor- you. Your (h/c) hair was pulled into a ponytail, loose strands falling into your face as you hauled yet another cardboard box into your arms. Your mom and dad were busy as well, each helping the other with different boxes and furniture, and occasionally moving to check up on your little brother. Patrick continuously flicked his silver Zippo open and closed, the flame an absent light in the corner of his eye. You, however, were the main focus in the center of his vision.

“Just go down and talk to her, Hockstetter,” a voice groaned from his bed, and Patrick turned, his Zippo flicking shut for the final time. Vic laid on Patrick’s bed, his head hanging off the side, staring at the taller boy upside-down. “I’ve been watching you watch her for the past fifteen minutes. And I’m so over it. I should’ve helped Henry with his farm work if I knew it was gonna be this boring over here,” he sighed, flipping himself over so his feet were now firmly planted on the floor.

“Shove it, Criss,” Patrick snarled, casting his gaze back outside, just in time to watch you disappear back inside.

“Why anyone would want to move to Derry is beyond me, honestly. But hey, one to their own.” Vic leaned back on his elbows, watching Patrick carefully. Patrick was infamous for becoming invested with things: animals, lighters, shirts, posters, CD’s, blankets, girls, leaves. Truthfully, anything that caught his eye was granted to be his by the end of the week. Vic wasn’t concerned for you per say, but he was curious as to how this would go. “You’ll see her at school tomorrow, ‘Trick. Hang out with me,” Vic whined, allowing his elbows to give out so he could flop back on the bed. Patrick sighed, and with one final glance out the window, made his way over to Vic.

Patrick instantly stopped as he walked into the school building, Henry practically bulldozing into his back. “Jesus, Hockstetter. Use those damn legs of yours, will ya?”

There you were, stood right by his locker. Your hair was pulled to the side now, and your backpack was slung over one shoulder. You were messing with the lock on the door, and Patrick knew from experience how dumb the things were (he had smashed his off in a fit of frustration once, and then vowed to never touch his locker again. He still stood by it, so people knew it was his but he didn’t use the damn thing). Patrick’s legs moved on their own, and the boys followed, thinking they were just going to crowd around his locker like usual.

“Hey babe, you need some help?” Patrick spoke smoothly, startling not only you but the three boys behind him. A wicked grin spread across Vic’s face, his hand clasping on Henry’s shirt to pull him back from bothering Patrick.

“I uh… yeah, actually. They’re really sticky? I know I’ve got the numbers right, there’s no way in hell that I’m wrong-” Patrick grinned, “but it’s just not opening.” You gave the locker a tug to emphasize your point, your backpack slipping down your shoulder as you did.

“It’s not you, doll, it’s the locker. It hates everyone, don’t take it personally,” he smirked, before placing a hand on your back to maneuver you out of the way. As people passed, they gawked at the sight before them. Obviously, you had zero idea just who you were talking to, but everyone else did. And they were shocked. Patrick took the small slip with your combo on it, memorizing it, before putting in the digits. He lifted the dial and gave it a sharp right-turn, pulling harshly. You gasped and grinned instantly as your locker swung open (nearly hitting Belch in the face).

“Jesus, thank you! I was worried I’d have to go to class with all of this book-crap attached to me,” you cheered, refraining yourself from hugging the taller boy beside you.

“Not Jesus, just Patrick,” he introduced, holding out his hand. You laughed at the comeback and shook his hand, marveling at the bracelets adorned on his wrist. Without thinking, your fingers gently held onto his wrist, moving it so you could get a better look.

“These are cool, how’d you get all of them?”

Behind a Patrick, a muffled, ‘he stole them’ came from Henry, who had his mouth hidden behind Vic’s hand, who gave you a sickly-sweet smile. You returned it with a smirk of your own, looking up at Patrick and trying to hide your amusement.

“My uh… my grandmother gave them to me,” he coughed, turning his head to shoot daggers at Henry. You laughed softly before releasing his wrist.

“Well, your grandma must have been a very thrifty person,” you smiled. The bell rang overhead, signaling it was time for your first class. “I’ve got to get going. It was nice meeting you, Patrick.” You gave the others wave before disappearing into the crowd of high schoolers, looking down at your schedule as you went.

“Yeah, you too…”

“You didn’t even get her damn name.”

When lunch came around, you found herself with a granola bar and a protein shake in hand. You had given your lunch money to your younger brother, helping him save up for the latest Alien Legion comic that had come out in December; he was only a few dollars away from getting his grubby hands on it. So now, you were left sitting at the corner of one of the lunch tables, taking in your surroundings. Ever since your encounter with Patrick, people had made it their personal quest to avoid you. You weren’t sure how to feel about it, and you had nobody to ask why.

“Hey, Combo!” You almost didn’t look up at the name, until you remembered your morning, and fit the voice to the memory. Walking your way was Patrick and the three boys he had been with. A blush tinged your cheeks, and you placed your chin on your palm, curiously tilting your head.

Patrick sat across from you, the bleach-blond to your side, and the other two to the side of Patrick. “What do I owe this kind visit?” you mused, swirling your protein drink.

“I never got your name this morning, and decided that I wanted to spend lunch with you,” Patrick said simply.

“And in turn, we all get to spend lunch with you,” the boy to your right grinned. “I’m Victor Criss, but everyone calls me Vic.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N),” you smiled. You were then introduced to Henry, who seemed to have a scowl tattooed on his face as he observed the lunch room before him, and Belch, who just looked tired.

“You hungry? You need more than just that,” Patrick huffed, motioning to the granola bar in front of you.

“A little, but I can always eat when I get home. I gave my brother my money,” you shrugged. Patrick frowned, not quite understanding.

“I’ll get you something to eat. What do you want?”

“Wha- Patrick, this isn’t a restaurant, I can’t just choose what I want,” you laughed softly, looking around to make sure that there were indeed no menus lying around.

“Give me a vague idea, and Henry and I will get it for you.”

“We will? Since when are you the boss around here? I remember this being the Bower’s Gang not the Hockstetter’s Gang,” he huffed, but stood alongside Patrick regardless.

“I don’t know… Hockstetter’s Gang has a nice ring to it…” Patrick grinned widely, a feeling slowly swarming inside his abdomen. “Surprise me. I’m not picky; just nothing spicy,” you told him, flashing the two boys a wide smile. Henry rolled his eyes and took off (the opposite direction of the cafeteria), while Patrick shot you a wink, following after him quickly.

You talked with Vic and Belch, waiting for the two Ring-Leaders to return. Without Patrick or Henry, Vic and Belch seemed to open up a bit more. “Alright, Combo, this look good enough for ya?” You turned your head, just in time to watch Henry dump various food items across the table, Patrick following suit.

“Wow… I uh… I mean I guess,” you snickered, sending the blond a smirk. Henry rolled his eyes and returned to his spot beside Belch, handing the boy a bag of Fritos. “Thanks, guys! Do you need me to pay you back?” A chorus of ‘nah’s broke out, even from Vic and Belch, but you simply shrugged and began to pick out a few things from the pile.

As the months dragged on, you grew closer with Patrick. You hung out with the gang of course, but Patrick held a certain hierarchy in your heart. You became infamous around his house, and he yours. Your brother also adored him, even though Patrick hated the kid. Things were good. And that little feeling in your chest whenever you saw him? You made sure to crush it like a bug so things would remain good.

“Hey, Combo!” Patrick’s voice rang out in your backyard, and when you looked up, you weren’t shocked to see him jumping over your fence.

“One sec, ‘Trick!” you called back. You were knelt on the ground, desperately trying to bury your brother’s dead hamster. When you had gotten home from school, your mom informed you of what had happened. They were currently out trying to find a replacement so that your brother wouldn’t find out.

“The hell are you doing?” Patrick questioned as he began walking over to you. His shadow loomed over you, granting you a brief moment of relief from the hot May sun.

“Jacob’s hamster died. Now I’ve gotta bury it, but we don’t have any damn shovels. Can you believe that? I’ve been out here for a fucking hour. I don’t get why I can’t just throw the damn thing away,” you grumbled, grabbing a fistful of dirt from the hole and piling it onto the side.

“You care about that kid too much,” Patrick sighed, moving away. You huffed in response, from the lack of shade and his comment. Patrick sat down beside the small hole you had managed to create, kicking his long legs out beside you. “You could just feed the thing to the wolves.”

“Does Maine even have wolves?”

“Wanna find out?”

“No.” Patrick grinned, loving the way your eyebrows furrowed at the thought. He moved his foot from side-to-side, allowing the toe to clunk against your calf. You ignored it, as you often did, opting to focus on the task at hand. “Help me out, would ya? You have long fingers, they’ve got to be good at something other than stealing.”

“Oh, they are. Wanna find that out?”

“Oh my god! Patrick please!” you cried, grabbing the spare dirt near the hole and chucking it at his face. Patrick let out a howl of laughter, shaking his hair to rid of the dirt.

“You’re just too easy,” he snickered, and you rolled your eyes. Patrick leaned over, reaching into the hole alongside you, and began helping you dig it out. Eventually, with the two of you working together, you had managed to bury the little hamster within another hour.

“Thanks, ‘Trick,” you sighed, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead.

“Don’t worry about it. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else,” he hummed, flopping down onto his back.

“You’re not even put off that you’re laying next to a dead animal right now?”

“Should I be?”

“I mean… I suppose not. I should know better by now,” you mumbled. You maneuvered yourself to the other side of Patrick, away from the little grave, before laying down as well.

“You have dirt on your face,” Patrick confessed, without even looking over at you. His eyes were closed, and he had a few pieces of stray hair falling into his face. However, unlike you, he was dirt free (minus his hands).

“I don’t care. One with nature.” You closed your eyes, letting out a huff as the sun hit your face. A hand was suddenly on your face, and you flinched, your eyes shooting open. Patrick was looking down at you intently, wiping the dirt off your forehead, cheekbones, and nose.

“Nature doesn’t look good on you,” he explained, but the blush on his cheeks said otherwise.

“Wow, thanks. ‘Preciate it.” You rolled your eyes, trying your hardest not to stare into his own, grey colored ones. But Patrick was persistent. His hand held onto your cheek, keeping you from turning your head, while he continued to stare down at you.

“You uh…” Patrick struggled for the words to say. He had a lot to say, but he didn’t know which of it to say, or how to say it. “The sun it… it makes you look nice, (Y/N),” he finally settled on, his eyes washing over your face.

You grinned and tilted your head slightly. “Yeah? Well, I’ve gotta say, any lighting your in makes you look great.”

“That was cheesy and dumb, I can’t believe you ruined the moment.”

“I can’t believe there was a moment to ruin.” Despite Patrick’s complaint, however, he had a grin to match your own. You didn’t often see Patrick smile without ill intent, and to see it directed towards you, was an ungodly feeling.

“I wouldn’t bury a hamster for just anyone, you know,” Patrick hummed, his finger straying to find a piece of your hair.

“I’d hope not. I like to think I’m special,” you boasted, finally allowing one of your hands to reach up and rest against his jawline.

“You are. You’re a pain in the ass, and you annoy me. But you’re the only person I let do that. And I don’t really know why? But I do, and it’s weird,” Patrick confessed, leaning into your touch like a cat.

“Some people call it love.” Patrick tensed above you, and you smiled softly. “But that doesn’t mean that’s what it has to be. I adore you. I care about you. I trust you. And to me, that means a lot more than love. I like to think of you as more than a friend sometimes. I wanna be with you, and that scares me. Because I don’t want to lose you,” you confessed, watching the way your thumb traced along his jaw. You didn’t want to look into his eyes, scared of what you’d see.

But then Patrick was bending down, and he was kissing you. His lips were chapped, and so were yours from being out in the heat. But the feeling of your heart constricting and shoving itself into your stomach over-ridded all of your senses. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in the ends of his hair. Patrick moved so he was no longer to the side of you, but above you, giving himself more leverage. The kiss was rough and demanding at first, but after a few seconds, Patrick mellowed out and calmed himself, easing the kiss into softer motions.

“I want to be with you too. And I don’t want to lose you. Ever,” his voice was quiet against your lips, and his eyes were still closed as if he was concentrating on something.

“You won’t. This will work, I know it will. I mean honestly, I’m never wrong,” you grinned, and Patrick’s eyes opened, smiling as well.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

[thestoriedpast]

Emmett Thompson, born April 12, 1940 and died January 15 2021. My grandfather was always a reserved man, at least in front of my sister and I. He loved us more than anything in the world, as we were his only grandchildren. Things were rough towards the end of his life, he had a sour outlook on life and cancer that was too far gone to even try to treat. I try to keep the better times at the forefront of my mind. The happy moments I can remember from spending the winter nights and summer days at my grandparent's house.

Emmett grew up in a poor family with more mouths to feed than food in the pantry. The first time my grandma showed me this photograph she remarked how skinny he looked, on account of his family being too poor for hearty meals a growing boy needs. He was somewhere in his early to mid teenage years in this photo, jumping into the Little Shenango River from a rope swing. Seeing my grandfather doing something as daring as this helped me understand him in a new way, since I had only known him in his later years.

He worked as a foreman for a paving company and eventually opened his own business; Thompson Dozer and Backhoe Services. I don't know for sure how long he had this business, but I know it was for a while. He took a lot of pride in his work. He bought his family a camper trailer, a pontoon boat, all the Christmas gifts in the world. This boy who grew up too poor to eat was now seeing his hard work pay off. There was still a part of him that hoarded money for fear of it all being gone. I remember him being very cheap and frugal.

I believe that things started to go downhill when his business went under. Not long after I was born the barn that stored all of the bulldozers, backhoes, and equipment burned down. Emmett collected the insurance but never reinvested in the business. He was about 60 by now, and I guess he just didn't want to keep trying. I think losing his business broke his spirit, and triggered his financial anxiety. He started drinking a lot more after this time.

One of the silly, happy, golden moments I remember from my childhood with him was my sister and I putting on fashion shows in very cheap, dollar store halloween costumes. We would come down the staircase and Emmett would be sitting on the couch waiting for us. "Hubba hubba ding ding" was his signature compliment, sometimes with a whistle thrown in.

Another hallmark moment that is most prominent in my remembrance of my grandfather is him hooking up a small wagon to the hitch of his riding mower and towing my sister and I around the neighborhood. We filled the wagon with patio furniture cushions, blankets, and pillows. There is a small field at the bottom of their street where he would drive us around. Looking back as a city person now it sounds like quintessential country bumpkin fun, but it was one of the things that always excited my sister and I. One year he even towed my Girl Scout troop in a halloween parade as we were dressed like daisies and the wagon was decorated like a garden. I think we won second or third place that year.

Sandy left him in 2013. She moved out and into a friend's house until she could find a new place of her own. She took the dog, the cats, and the things that made that house a home. I will never forget the one day my parents, Sandy's sisters, herself, and I went over to the house and got what was left of her's out. Emmett was very upset upon seeing her, and my great aunt Sharon tried to keep him calm but eventually we just had to leave. She was taking everything from him in his perspective. He knew that my sister and I wouldn't be around as much, that he wouldn't get another dog to take care of himself, that birthdays and holidays would now be split. His drinking had also escalated, and I don't think he could think rationally about much anymore.

My grandma still invited him to every holiday dinner, even if he never showed up. She still loved him; the Emmett she married, not the person he turned into. She drove by the house often, watching it deteriorate and suffer from a lack of care. Just as the house was declining, so was Emmett. He had a mass on his side that he let go for too long. The cancer was too strong and he was too weak in health for doctors to want to try any treatment.

He went into the hospital right before Christmas 2020, and was transferred to a nursing home for round the clock care on December 23. They did not give him his dentures, and my father wasn't able to bring him a TV until after Christmas; the pandemic and the holiday had meant weird visiting hours. Emmett loved watching TV, specifically Family Feud every night, and not being able to watch his shows was one of the many reasons he hated the nursing home. The entire time he was sick he tried to get in-home care nurses to avoid having to leave the couch he slept on every night for 20 years and the TV that was constantly blaring.

Emmett attempted suicide on December 26. He spent Christmas alone in there, very sick and miserable. I cannot even imagine what was going through his mind. He was transferred to the ICU unit at a big hospital, and held on long enough to make it a couple weeks into the new year. He was so sick and so weak. The years of smoking and drinking and working with god knows what kind of chemicals finally caught up to him, and it was also his own choice that ended things. I feel guilt for not seeing him more often, especially when I still lived in Greenville. It was extremely hard to see him spiral so far down, and to be in a house that was once warm and inviting, that held so much family history. The last time I talked to him was on Christmas Day, I wished him a Merry Christmas with my sister on the phone and then he continued a conversation with my dad. I worry that he thought I didn't love him, or even like him. The truth is that I had so many emotions about him that they overflowed every time I thought about him. Visiting was emotional turmoil because I felt such a deep sense of wanting to help but knowing I couldn't save him, of wanting to just fix everything and rekindle the warm glow of how things used to be.

I hold onto a lot of guilt about my relationship with him.

[consentinglibraries]

Pokemon Shield Nuzlocke Day 8

Started the day with some more grinding on route 6. Chomps evolved into Vibrava after beating a trainer's pawniard! Then I decided it was time to head and Challenge Allistair for the ghost badge.

Coming into town I run into Hop being depressed some more after his loss to Bede. I wish I could cheer him up and let him win but we both know that's not gonna happen. Disney takes out his Clamorant, and Chomps takes put his Raboot. He only has a toxel left so I keep Chomps in and he takes it out with a quick Bulldoze. Hop leaves all confused about his future, and then suddenly fairy grandma is behind me telling me how Hop should live his life. How about you not creepily stand behind children ma'am? Look at your life choices madame.

Now the team and I walk into the Stow-on-side gym, and get changed to start the trial. Gracie breezes through almost every trainer battle along the pinball challenge, with a little assistance from Elsa on a Drifblim. Now it's time for our gym battle with Alistair.

Allistair starts off with a Yanmask and I throw out Gracie. Gracie goes first and slices Yanmask with an Air Slash. Yanmask disables Air Slash but that's ok because Gracie finishes it off with a psybeam! Allistair sends in Cursola and I swap in Brainey who gets a good hit off with Psychic. Cursola follows up with curse which sucks, but Brainey takes it out with another Psychic. Allistair chooses Mimikyu next and I swap to Cabbage. Cabbage uses Toxic while Mimikyu hones its claws. Then Cabbage starts throwing acid at Mimikyu and letting poison widdle it down. Mimikyu gets a crit double home claws slash off and takes Cabbage down to 20 hp but he doesnt let that stop him! Another acid to the face and some poison tick damage and down goes Mimikyu!

Now it was time for Allistair's Gengar, from what I've been told the run killer. I start the fight off with Chomps hoping to get some good type advantage with ground type moves. We both dynamax and I start off with max guard hoping to stall the 3 turns. Gengar uses g-max terror and one shits Chomps!! My flying boy 😭😭😭!!! I throw in Gracie who takes a max ooze crit but survives with 20 hp, and gets off a stun spore. Gracie hits Gengar with a psybeam but she is taken down too with hex! No my baby butterfly who has been with us since the start!

I through in my tiny man Brainey who thanks to Gracie's stun spore gets a massive psychic hit onto Gengar taking him out! We did it. We beat Allistair and his satanic Gengar... but at what cost!? I leave the gym and Sonia immediately asks for my help after we hear some pounding at the ruins. DOESNT SHE SEE ME CARRYING MY 2 DEAD BABIES!?! THIS IS NOT THE TIME SONIA!!

I look through my box and see I've got some training to do and I add Bullseye the Mudbray (lvl 15) to the team and Twitter the Rookidee (lvl 8). Before going up to see what the ruckus is about we go into Gloomcap Forrest and run into a Shiinotic. This Shiinotic and Cabbage have a good 20 minute giga drain head-first fight until we finally exhaust all his ways to heal and now Chanterelle the Shiinotic is in the box!

We head back to Stow-on-side and find Bede trying to destroy a historic landmark with Rose's pokemon... for Rose? Bede. Honey. Your crazy is showing dear, reeeeeel it back sweetums. No? It's ok Brainey will show you the error of your ways. Which he did, and that gave enough exp for Twitter to evolve into Corvisquire!

After Rose crushed Bede's spirit, using the power of a destroyed historical site and context clues, Sonia starts to put together Galar's history. Now back into Gloomcap Forrest for some grinding!

Pokemon stats:

Elsa (Snorunt) Lvl 37: Bite, Icy Wind, Frost Breath, Ice Shards

Cabbage (Gloom) Lvl 38: Acid, Toxic, Moonblast, Giga drain

Brainey (Orbeetle) Lvl 38: Psychic, Mirror Coat, Light Screen, Struggle Bug

Disney (Inteleon) Lvl 39: Snipe Shot, Liquidation, Water Pulse, Sucker punch

Bullseye (Mudbray) Lvl 21: Strength Double Kick, Iron Defense, Bulldoze

Twitter (Corvisquire) Lvl 21: Peck, Fury Attack, Pluck, Hone Claws