#Pages from somebody's scrapbook

[pikapikachupikachu]

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 11 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 12

Making the scrapbook was cathartic. Remembering the good times, the innocence of your childhood, was as much of a joy as it was painful. The pictures were all quite good quality since Abuela had had a film camera. Some photos had been taken with a digital camera, which had probably originally belonged to the Georges and ended up in your possession somewhere along the way.

Regina and yourself playing in the Georges' backyard and swimming in their pool, beaming smiles directed at the camera. You could almost hear the laughter. I miss when we used to be able to just have fun together like this. I guess it's a part of growing up.

Regina in a white frilly dress, carrying a small basket of flower petals, donning a crown of roses on her head. She was pouting, clearly unimpressed by the whole thing. You hadn't been at the wedding since it was a George event, but Regina's mom had been so elated her daughter had gotten to be the flower girl. I remember I was so jealous you got to go to a wedding and I couldn't. You hated it, though, which was funny. You used to leave the room whenever your mom insisted we watch the tape. I wonder if she still has it.

You sitting with Regina, hip to hip, on plastic chairs while a newlyborn Kylie slept in your laps. Regina, eyes stuck on her baby sister and a thoughtful look on her face, while you looked at the camera with a smile. She's growing up so fast. Don't think I don't know you care about her. There's gonna be a time you'll regret not spending time with her. I already feel it.

Mrs George, Abuela, Regina, Kylie in her mom's arms, and you grouped together at a parking lot. You and Regina had on little graduation gowns and had scrolls in your hands. Elementary school graduation. The summer before middle school. End of an era. I love your mom's clothes, they're so nineties. Does she still have those jeans? You should get ahold of them before somebody else does...

Remember when I sliced my hand open when we were peeling apples? That was a time for sure. I still have the scar!

You taped pictures onto the pages, wrote little things here and there, hoping the labour of your love wouldn't end up in the garbage. Or if it did, Regina would read skim through it first.

I think this album was the first time we agreed on music. Britney Spears really brought us together, huh? We even learned the choreography of Baby One More Time. Mrs George loved it. I bet there's a video of that somewhere.

Mostly the scrapbook was filled with anecdotes about your childhoods together. You did write a letter of sorts on the first page, regarding your intentions with the whole thing.

I made this for you to commemorate the good times we had. You know me regrettably well, so I think you know how I tend to hold onto things. I still have that gaudy pink Build-A-Bear you made me for Valentine's Day that one time. It's one of my most important possessions, only second to the memories we have together. You'll always be a friend to me, Reggie. If not forever, or from now on, then back then. I love you. Yours, Jorts.

You'd pretty much finished the whole thing by the end of the weekend. You spent Monday and Tuesday decorating the front cover, mostly because you purposefully put it off. You cut out letters from magazines and glued them there, painstakingly forming the words Reggie & Jorts. You'd tried to come up with something clever, but making a pun or a dumb joke felt like cheapening the whole album. A simple name made up for with fabulous decorations!

You weren't much of a painter, but you figured it'd be fitting if the album reflected its contents. It was fine if the roses you painted looked like a five-year-old did them. A good majority of the pictures featured you and Regina huddled around a crafts table, similar projects scattered all around you, young with clumsy hands but filled with artistic passion.

The album in itself was an earthy green colour, something Regina undoubtedly found ugly. The flowers brightened it up somewhat, but there was only so much ages-old acrylic paints could do. You outlined some with Sharpies. If you didn't know better, one could assume it looked like that on purpose.

You took it with you to school on Wednesday. You had it weighing your backpack down the whole day. You sweated under all your layers, and by the end of it, you were sure you were sporting some epic pit stains. Gross, but you were so nervous. You hadn't broken into anyone's locker in so long. And it was Regina George's locker.

You loitered around the hallways as they emptied out steadily, people heading home or off to extracurriculars. As you approached Regina's locker, you swallowed down your nervousness and got to work.

It wasn't hard. The combination locks were all old and weak, more of a formality than an actual barrier between one's stuff and a burglar. The lock clicked open easily and you wasted no time in stuffing your album inside.

"Hey!" Just as the resounding click of the lock going back into place came, a voice called out to you. "What are you doing with Regina's locker?"

"Uhh..." Gretchen Wieners stood at the intersection of hallways, hands on her hips and accusatory eyes burning holes in you. You made the swift decision that you did not have time for this. You booked it.

"Hey! Get back here!" Gretchen, surprisingly considering her heels, started after you. "What did you put in it? You cannot prank Regina, or- or, oh, was it a bomb?"

"It's not a bomb!" You shouted over your shoulder, sprinting towards the exit. The aggressive clacking of Gretchen's heels on the floors as she ran after you would surely haunt your nightmares. How could she even keep up with you?

"If it's not a bomb then what!" How was she closing in on you? It seemed like she was not even fazed by your little race, meanwhile, you were already winded. The exit was not that far away, but it felt like miles.

"It's Regina's business now! Ask her tomorrow at school or something!" The doors to freedom approached. "Stop chasing me!"

"Stop running!"

"No!"

You burst out and quickly hopped down the stairs, two at a time. Gretchen was still on your tail, but once she got to the top of the stairs shouted: "Karen! Tackle her!"

You hadn't even noticed Karen fucking Shetty. There was no not noticing her when the girl sprinted at you with perfect athletic form and squashed you like a linebacker.

You collided and flew into the snow. Better than the concrete of the footpath but it still hurt like a bitch.

"Get off of me!" You tried to get out from under her, but Karen was surprisingly dense. She was small but it was as if there were stones in her body instead of organs. "Fuck!"

"Keep her there, Karen, very good."

"Thanks!" Karen beamed, which was a much more common expression on her than the bloodlust she'd shown earlier.

"This has nothing to do with you." You snarled, still wriggling. "This is between Regina and me."

"Whatever's between Regina is between us," Gretchen said, all hoity-toity. "Now, tell me exactly what you put in her locker."

"A fucking photo album." You hissed, closing your eyes and clenching your jaw. What lie could you come up with? "Our families used to know each other. It's mostly pictures of her, so I just thought to... Return it."

"Oh, that's so nice!" Karen's hold loosened and you went to escape.

"Nuh-uh, not good enough." Just like that, Karen's weight slammed back down onto you. Your breath wooshed out of your lungs.

"What more do you want?" You wheezed out, getting sick and tired of this.

"Why was it in your possession?"

"I don't fucking know! It just was!"

"Hmm. And why couldn't you just give it to her?"

"You think that would've gone well, Gretchen? Seriously?" You turned your head with great effort, staring up at the girl. "Please, just let me go."

"I don't think I believe you." Gretchen squatted next to your head. "We're going back and checking it's what you say it is. And then you might be free to go."

"Fuck you." You hissed but made no move to book it when Karen hauled you up.

"That's not very nice." Karen pointed out.

"I don't want to be nice to Gretchen right now." You had no real issue with Karen, even if she had just tackled you.

"Oh, okay." You couldn't see her when she was holding your wrists behind your back, but you could imagine she was bobbing her head up and down like she was known to do.

You were walked back into the building, going mostly without a fight. Gretchen strutted along proudly as if capturing you was some great victory. Regina had trained her well. You weren't sure if that was impressive or just sad.

"Open it." Gretchen gestured once you were back at Regina's locker.

"I need my hands to do that." You helped out, smiling at Gretchen like she was stupid. Sputtering and offended, she instructed Karen to let go.

Instead of running like you should've, taking the chance you could get out if Karen didn't get a one-up on you, you obediently cracked the code again. Was it selfish that you kind of wanted others to know about you and Regina? Was it totally horrible of you to want to know it was real and have proof of that? Well, if it was, there was no helping it.

Gretchen snatched the album from the locker before you could even think to touch it. Karen sidled up to her, peering over her shoulder as she opened it.

You stood by, waiting for their judgement and looking at the ceiling. There'd been a water leak right there, based on the discolouration. Gross.

"You... You're J. J is for Jorts." Gretchen said. She sounded weird, like hollow or something. "J is for Jorts." She said again, breathy and disbelieving.

"What?" What the fuck was going on?

Karen spoke then. "She talks about J a lot. Like, a lot a lot. A whole lot." You nodded slowly as Karen went on. "J's like, her true love. It's so cute."

"J is not her true love, Karen! They are both girls." Gretchen pointed out. You had to agree. "Are they?" She looked you up and down judgementally.

"Yes. I am a girl." You said. It was true, you were female and around the age that it was acceptable to be referred to as a girl. Even so, it made you distinctly uncomfortable.

"Hmm." Gretchen didn't seem to believe you. Karen was busy cooing at the pictures of small Regina. It was sheer luck they hadn't bothered to read your writings.

"Look, can I go now? I know I'm busted, you're probably gonna confiscate the album, and Regina will never see it. Happy?"

"No. Karen, please put it back in the locker." Gretchen said, not taking her eyes off of you. Karen did as asked with a pout. "What is your relationship with Regina?" The album was back in the locker, but it hadn't been locked again.

"Nothing." And that was true. There was nothing there anymore.

"That's a lie and you know it. If you're J, then you've known each other at least since middle school. Based on the pictures, even longer."

"Who is J?" You asked in exasperation.

"Somebody who she has protected for years now. Somebody who is always better than we could ever be." Gretchen pointed between herself and Karen. "J is important to her."

"Okay, well, good for J, I guess."

"You're so infuriating." Gretchen sighed, pinching the skin between her eyes.

"You aren't the first to tell me that."

"Of course, because Regina has said that to you. Because you've known each other forever. Because you're J."

"Listen, I may look a bit butch, but I have a perfectly ordinary girl name."

"That is not the point!" She spoke fast and high-pitched. "You. It's you. You've been under our noses this entire time! Do you realize how much easier things could've been if you were around?"

"Excuse me?" Now, you were really lost.

"You're excused," Karen said cheerfully. You nodded to her in thanks.

"We could never be as good as you. It was like we were placeholders for the ultimate pretty girl she'd somehow let slip. And it's you. In a flannel and hoodie, ratty jeans, dirty shoes, no fashion sense to speak of. It's you." She said that last part with contempt.

You were reeling. Regina had talked about you to these two. Had compared them to you, cited that you were better. For years she'd done that. She'd never forgotten about you.

"Look, Gretchen, I'm sorry Regina's treated you badly." You'd lost the need to defend her, even still. Then again, even if you hadn't, there was little you could argue about with the two she'd tormented the most. "You can probably tell this is something Regina doesn't want coming out."

"What does that matter?" Gretchen asked, eyes far away and legs beginning to pace. "We could- could finally bring her down. Yes. We have J, we have everything she wants. She'll come grovelling."

You took a deep breath. You didn't feel angry, you were too tired to get angry at mean girls at this point. Besides, nobody could rile you up like Regina.

"You're wrong." You put it plainly. "What Regina's been doing to these people, to everyone around her, is wrong. But what I find despicable is how everybody is the same. I know her reasons, I can sympathise with her, but I can't say the same for you. So tell me." You paused to take a deep breath. "Why?"

"I'm not good at riddles, I'm sorry." Karen said, looking genuinely apologetic.

"It's okay, Karen, Gretchen can answer for you both."

"She deserves it." Gretchen said, steel in her tone.

"You sound just like Cady Heron and Janis 'Imi'ike. She hurt them too. What do you think ruining her life will achieve?"

"I'll be the new Regina George."

"Do you hear yourself? You still idolize her. If you're gonna be the new Regina George, it's always going to be a Regina George world. Don't you want to be Gretchen Wieners?"

"No!" She screeched. "Gretchen Wieners is lame, boring, too eager, a slut, desperate-" She took a deep breath.

"Okay." You said. "Why? Because Regina said so? Why would you believe her? She's just the same as you. Look," You pulled the album back out.

"Here we're in the Georges' pool. She would not go to the deep end. Y'know, she refused to even go in without those arm floaties for the longest time. Eventually, some boy made fun of her for them and that was the last time.

"And in this one we're driving back from summer camp. Regina was already tall enough to go without a booster seat, but I wasn't. She'd just thrown the biggest tantrum 'cause Mrs George didn't allow her to take off her seatbelt to sleep. She went out like a light, anyway.

"We're in Six Flags there. We'd just gotten those ice creams and you can see that Regina's isn't sticking to the cone all that well. Right after the shot, it just slid off. Regina was inconsolable. I offered her mine so we could share, and that seemed to be good enough for her but her dad was not having it. He threatened to take us home if she didn't stop crying right then, that it'd be all her fault that their whole family wasted money and time on this stupid trip. Eventually she calmed down and Mr George didn't have to drive us back."

You sighed. "I already tried this with Janis, in a way. I don't think Regina would appreciate me airing out her personal life like this, but... I don't know..." You closed your eyes for a moment. "I just want people to stop making things worse for her. She's been so wrong for so long, and I know I can't keep defending her, but I just don't think revenge will make her regret anything that she's done."

Karen hummed. "My auntie's been teaching me about karma. So, like, if she feels what she's made others feel, then won't that like... Fix her?"

"I don't want to hurt her." You said, resolute. "Maybe, it could be the most effective way to make her see her shortcomings. But I don't want to. I do not want to hurt her." You looked between the two. "And that's where we differ, I guess."

Gretchen didn't say anything, eyes glued to a picture from the Six Flags trip. Regina had mustard and ketchup smeared all over her face while she was holding a napkin to your lips, in the process of wiping your face.

With that, you snatched the album from her hands, deposited it back into the locker and slammed it shut. The lock clicked. Without a word, you began to talk towards the exit. Neither of them followed you or said anything to you.

You couldn't stop people from taking their revenge. You had done your best to be diplomatic. Evoking sympathy in hormonal teenagers wasn't something easily done, or maybe you were just shitty at it, but there was little else you could do. If you went ahead and retaliated, hurt them for hurting someone you cared about, the lines blurred.

You'd just be another mean girl.

Notes: Sorry for the delay! The next chapter will be the last one, unless I start rambling or something. After that, I'll do a less structured series of epilogues. Loosely related oneshots, that kinda vibe.

Also, my writing assistant stopped working in the middle of this, so if there's stupid typos I'll come fix them later.

I swear to fucking god if the taglist doesn't work I'll start breaking bones.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism , @9unknown0 , @sage-rose2000 , @massive-honkas , @nattys-swiftie , @likefirenrain , @luz-enjoyer , @dandelions4us , @natashamaximoff-69 , @alexkolax , @jareaul0ver , @here4theqts , @charleeeesworld , @natsbiggestfan1 , @brocoliisscared , @yellowwallflowers , @scarlettbitchx , @ayoungexwife , @cyberbonesworld , @syddie-reads , @screechcat , @theenglishswiftie , @gabby-duhh , @sweetmissnothing , @masterofpuppets-10 , @l1lass , @starved-mortal , @nothanksbye07 , @nenas19 , @jvuyii , @starry-night17 , @reneeswife24 , @glorioushamsterqueen , @krononan , @slug-on-bike , @rayisaknight , @chaseatlanticlover91 , @reginassweetheart , @mirage018

(this actually makes me angry. why. why doesnt it work. i type in the @ and then i type in the name and then it shows up in the lil' box and i click it but then it don't show up ;-;)

(this is cyber bullying. the cybers are bullying me.)

(anyway, if you want to be added to the taglist there is no gurantee if it'll work, but i'll add you if you want! just comment on this post :) if anybody has any ideas why it's like this, lmk!)

[plushee-cant-draw]

As I've started doing for. every update now, here are all of the new quotes for the update beta, "Terror Below" :3

I. am very normal about it so far.

(Spoilers under the cut, of course. Also it is incredibly long.)

Firstly, though, I'm kinda sad that the ancient fuelweaver doesn't react at all to the portal being repaired. I tried summoning him after getting it fixed, but nothing changes, and I checked his quotes to be sure, but nothing new was added. Hopefully Kiel will give him something to say TwT.

Secondly, I'd go check the update out first if possible or see if a guide for the new things added is out, as even after playing it for a little bit...

I still haven't seen everything new added and don't know what some of the new quotes added are even for.

Anyways

Wilson:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "That drop looks like it goes on forever.", SHADOW_FORGE = "What dark designs will it bring to life?", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "It would be unscientific of me not to at least do some experiments.", FUSED_SHADELING = "I liked you better when you were smaller, and bothering someone else.", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "Bombastic!", VOIDCLOTH = "Those shadows are all cut from the same cloth.", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "It makes me feel dark and mysterious.", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "Oh drat, there's a tear across the front!", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "I always hate when my hair gets melted by acid.", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "It makes harvesting so easy, it's scary!", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "Hands off!", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "It looks hungry for a fight.", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "The wings seem to be just for show.", CHARLIE_NPC = "Wait, is that...?", CHARLIE_HAND = "It wants something dreadful.", NITRE_FORMATION = "It's definitely some kind of rock.", DREADSTONE_STACK = "It's coming from deep down in those chasms...", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "Someone else out there likes to scrapbook.", }, ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "Something sinister's on the horizon.", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "I already have all these.",

Willow:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "Nope. Not going near that.", SHADOW_FORGE = "Alright, let's get weird!", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "I have to put it together myself?", FUSED_SHADELING = "Eww, it's so creepy!", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "They sure go out with a bang.", VOIDCLOTH = "Finders keepers!", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "You never know who might really be hiding under that hood.", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "I think I look good in red.", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "At least it keeps the rain off.", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "Farming just got a bit less boring.", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "What has two hands and no feet? Whatever that thing is.", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "Go snack on somebody else!", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "You don't scare me! Okay, maybe a little.", CHARLIE_NPC = "Have I seen her before...?", CHARLIE_HAND = "You want something from me?", NITRE_FORMATION = "I don't know how anything could grow in that weird rain.", DREADSTONE_STACK = "It's growing from way down below.", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "Another page for the emergency kindling supply- I mean scrapbook.", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "Did anyone else see that weird glow?", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "Looks like stuff I already know.",

Wolfgang:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "Wolfgang will be very careful not to fall into that.", SHADOW_FORGE = "Creepy hands make things for Wolfgang.", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "Is almost done!", FUSED_SHADELING = "Is creepy and crawly!", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "Boom bug!", VOIDCLOTH = "Scary little rags.", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "Eep! Is too dark in there!", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "Creepy shirt is happy to be worn by Wolfgang.", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "Wolfgang would like less spooky umbrella, please.", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "Wolfgang will cut with one mighty swipe!", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "Creepy shadow wants to arm wrestle?", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "Eep! Wolfgang's muscles are too tough for chewing!", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "Scary flapper!", CHARLIE_NPC = "Wolfgang has seen that face in the dark...", CHARLIE_HAND = "Is needing something, yes?", NITRE_FORMATION = "It grew from burny rain?", DREADSTONE_STACK = "Scary rock comes from scary place...", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "Is page of funny scribbles.", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "Maybe is best to not go toward creepy light, yes?", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "Wolfgang's scrapbook will fit no more!",

Wendy:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "Endless, swirling nothingness... how serene.", SHADOW_FORGE = "What terrible things will I create?", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "I suppose if I tried I could piece it together.", FUSED_SHADELING = "It knows nothing but pain and hunger.", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "They lead such short, explosive lives.", VOIDCLOTH = "Tattered remains.", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "I can disappear into the darkness within.", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "This ragged cloak will either protect me, or be my shroud.", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "I will stay under its shadow.", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "One swift motion, and the work is done.", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "Another nightmare to torment me.", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "Will the darkness consume me at last?", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "There is no face beneath that hood.", CHARLIE_NPC = "Are you the true face of the darkness?", CHARLIE_HAND = "Do I dare approach?", NITRE_FORMATION = "It thrives while the rest of us burn.", DREADSTONE_STACK = "Do I dare imagine what kind of darkness it grew from?", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "A lost and lonely page.", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "That glow... does it lead to my doom?", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "Nothing more will fit in my scrapbook.",

WX-78:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "PLANAR ANOMALY DETECTED", SHADOW_FORGE = "IT DOES MY BIDDING", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "ASSEMBLY REQUIRED", FUSED_SHADELING = "HIGH CONCENTRATIONS OF EVIL DETECTED", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "WARNING: CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE", VOIDCLOTH = "ALL THAT IS LEFT OF MY ENEMIES", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "IT WOULD BE A SHAME TO HIDE MY PERFECT MECHANICAL FACE", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "THE IRON CHAINS ARE A NICE TOUCH", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "MY NEW FAVORITE MOISTURE BARRIER", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "LET'S CUT DOWN SOME ORGANICS", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "SUBMIT TO MY AUTHORITY!", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "YOUR EFFORTS ARE ILLOGICAL, I HOLD NO NUTRITIONAL VALUE", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "COME CLOSER SO I CAN PUNCH YOU", CHARLIE_NPC = "ALL THAT POWER AND SHE STILL CLINGS TO THAT ORGANIC FORM", CHARLIE_HAND = "OFFERING REQUIRED", NITRE_FORMATION = "IT GREW, BUT NOT IN A GROSS ORGANIC WAY", DREADSTONE_STACK = "IF I COULD JUST GET TO THE SOURCE!", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "I WILL ADD THIS INFORMATION TO MY PAPER DATA RECEPTACLE", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "SOMETHING EVIL IS HAPPENING WITHOUT ME!", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "PAPER DATA RECEPTACLE STATUS: 100% COMPLETE",

Wickerbottom:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "Intriguing and deeply worrying in equal measures.", SHADOW_FORGE = "I do not care for this type of magic.", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "It cannot be utilized until its been assembled.", FUSED_SHADELING = "It is reminiscent of the parasitic shadows we encountered before.", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "Its body is highly volatile.", VOIDCLOTH = "This unusual fabric may be quite useful.", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "Prolonged use will surely have detrimental effects on the mind.", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "Armor against metaphysical damage.", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "It provides a useful barrier against acid droplets.", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "A common harvesting implement, with an admittedly unsettling appearance.", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "I would advise against challenging it in hand-to-hand combat.", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "A ravenous shadow beast.", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "Its wings seem to be utilized for propulsion, not to remain airborne.", CHARLIE_NPC = "I'd like to give that young lady a stern talking to!", CHARLIE_HAND = "It requires materials.", NITRE_FORMATION = "The acidic rain seems to have caused a chemical reaction, producing these formations.", DREADSTONE_STACK = "Its source must lie even deeper underground.", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "What a hideous sight! A page torn from its book!", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "As nonsensical as it sounds, there is something dark about that \"light\"...", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "My scrapbook has already been completed.",

Woodie:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "Watch where ya step.", SHADOW_FORGE = "Was this really a good idea?", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "It won't do much good sitting there like that.", FUSED_SHADELING = "Yeesh, this place is overrun with shadow critters!", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "That can't be good...", VOIDCLOTH = "It ain't flannel, but I can work with it.", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "A dark hood, full of secrets.", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "Quite the getup, eh?", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "As long as it works, I won't complain aboot how it looks.", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "Luce says she doesn't like him.", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "You'd better keep yer hands clear of my axe!", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "Better not get too close to that big fella.", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "You're not some kinda bird hiding under that hood, are ya?", CHARLIE_NPC = "Her face looks familiar, I think I've seen it in my nightmares.", CHARLIE_HAND = "Not exactly a helping hand, eh?", NITRE_FORMATION = "Guess that rain wasn't all bad, eh?", DREADSTONE_STACK = "I don't like where this is going, and I really don't like where it's comin' from.", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "Huh. Wonder where it came from?", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "I don't like the look of that light.", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "Looks like stuff I already know aboot.",

Wes:

Maxwell:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "Mind the gap.", SHADOW_FORGE = "What shall I fashion from the shadows?", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "There is work to be done.", FUSED_SHADELING = "They grow up so fast.", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "That is one persistent tail.", VOIDCLOTH = "It would be a shame to let this material go to waste.", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "Darkness is an often underrated accessory.", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "The fabric really breathes.", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "It's just my style.", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "If menial tasks must be done, they should be done in style.", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "You think you're the master of sleight of hand?", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "I'll leave a bitter taste in your mouth, pal.", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "You think you can look down on me?", CHARLIE_NPC = "Charlie...", CHARLIE_HAND = "I'll... see to it.", NITRE_FORMATION = "A large growth of nitre.", DREADSTONE_STACK = "It comes from the depths below.", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "Curious. It may yield some useful information.", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "Something's stirring...", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "I know all I need to already.",

Wigfrid:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "A chasm to Hel itself.", SHADOW_FORGE = "It doth conjure powerful, accursed things...", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "Dare I toy with such a thing?", FUSED_SHADELING = "'Tis naught but a pest to be crushed beneath my boot!", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "'Tis small, but lively!", VOIDCLOTH = "Remnants of a fallen foe.", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "I despise the thought of hiding one's face in combat.", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "This garb invites madness...", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "A shield against the elements.", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "A formidable weapon against non-meats.", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "To arms, fiend!", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "All thou shall taste is the bite of my spear!", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "Thou art swift, but not swift enough!", CHARLIE_NPC = "At last, you reveal yourself!", CHARLIE_HAND = "It seeks an offering.", NITRE_FORMATION = "A boon from the burning rain.", DREADSTONE_STACK = "It hails from a place deeper and darker than even here.", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "From whence hath you come, mysterious page?", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "Hark! 'Tis a most unnatural light!", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "I hath already completed my tome.",

Webber:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "W-we don't think we want to look down there...", SHADOW_FORGE = "We'd rather do crafts with paper and glue...", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "Where should we put it?", FUSED_SHADELING = "Ouchie! It bites!", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "You're not one of our spider friends!", VOIDCLOTH = "It's definitely not spider silk.", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "It makes us look pretty spooky.", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "It makes it look like our tummy's smiling!", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "It keeps us dry, and gives us lots of shade!", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "He never used anything like this back on the farm.", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "We wonder if they get dizzy walking like that...", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "We don't want to get gobbled up again!", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "Aww, no fair, we wish we had wings!", CHARLIE_NPC = "Are you the lady from the dark?", CHARLIE_HAND = "We think it wants something!", NITRE_FORMATION = "It's a big stack of rock stuff!", DREADSTONE_STACK = "More of that scary rock...", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "Oooh, we found a page!", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "What was that creepy light?", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "We already filled up our scrapbook.",

Winona:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "This place is falling apart at the seams.", SHADOW_FORGE = "Might as well put the shadows to work.", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "Just needs a bit of elbow grease.", FUSED_SHADELING = "I don't like the look of those chompers.", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "Watch out, it's gonna blow!", VOIDCLOTH = "I can work with any material.", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "Some folks think it's safer to be kept in the dark.", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "Looks pretty tattered, will it really protect me from anything?", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "It sure provides plenty of shade.", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "It gives me the creeps, but it sure works like a charm.", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "What? Mad I left ya hanging?", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "It's gonna chew me up and spit me back out! Literally!", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "Must be one of the higher-ups. Ha...", CHARLIE_NPC = "Charlie, wait!!", CHARLIE_HAND = "You want something, huh?", NITRE_FORMATION = "Oh, I've got big plans for that!", DREADSTONE_STACK = "Must be a lot of the stuff growing down there.", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "Let's see if there's anything interesting written on it.", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "I've got a bad feelin'...", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "I can't squeeze any more pages in my scrapbook.",

Warly:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "The ground is crumbling!", SHADOW_FORGE = "A place for dark concoctions.", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "I'll just put these pieces together, and voila!", FUSED_SHADELING = "It does not look friendly!", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "It's about to pop!", VOIDCLOTH = "Leftovers from those nightmares.", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "To protect my head while unraveling my mind.", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "Will it really keep me safe?", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "I fear it will bring bad luck whether it's opened indoors or not.", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "Did I just see it twitch?", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "I don't want to end up in its clutches.", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "Oh my, it looks hungry... and I'm probably delicious!", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "My fears have taken flight!", CHARLIE_NPC = "Mon dieu... Is that the face I've seen peering from the shadows?", CHARLIE_HAND = "It needs an important ingredient.", NITRE_FORMATION = "Adding a dash of acid to the mix created these formations.", DREADSTONE_STACK = "More of that curious stone.", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "Ah! Someone has left a page here.", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "What was that eerie glow?", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "My scrapbook is already filled to the brim.",

Wortox:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "Hyuyu, watch your step!", SHADOW_FORGE = "Those idle hands should be put to work, hyuyu!", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "All work and no play makes for an irritable imp.", FUSED_SHADELING = "The stuff of nightmares!", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "Keep away, I don't want to play!", VOIDCLOTH = "Bits of tattered reality. And it comes in my color!", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "A hood of night, that blocks out all light.", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "It broke the chains of its previous plane.", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "The rain of pain falls mainly on this plane.", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "Alas, it reaps no souls, just grass.", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "This one's all topsy-turvy, hyuyu!", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "You wouldn't want to eat a sweet little imp like me!", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "A fright, taken flight!", CHARLIE_NPC = "The Shadow Queen is finally seen!", CHARLIE_HAND = "It seeks a stone of dread.", NITRE_FORMATION = "After a while it formed a pile.", DREADSTONE_STACK = "Who knows where it grows from?", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "Where is it from? Not knowing is half the fun!", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "Calling that \"light\" wouldn't be quite right.", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "I already know everything there is to know, hyuyu!",

Wormwood:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "Anybody down there?", SHADOW_FORGE = "Scary hands helping?", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "Not done yet", FUSED_SHADELING = "Scary Biter!", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "Look out!", VOIDCLOTH = "Leaves? No...", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "Dark inside", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "Smiling?", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "Burny Rain Taker", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "No... wants to hurt friends!", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "Not friend...", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "Big Biter!", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "Scary Flier", CHARLIE_NPC = "Hello lady!", CHARLIE_HAND = "Want something?", NITRE_FORMATION = "Bunch of Pow Rocks", DREADSTONE_STACK = "Growing up, up, up!", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "Book leaf?", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "Glowy!", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "Book filled up!",

Wurt:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "Glorp! Ground broken!", SHADOW_FORGE = "Make me things! Now!", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "It not ready yet.", FUSED_SHADELING = "Something stuck to its tail?", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "It gonna 'splode!", VOIDCLOTH = "All torn up.", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "It dark inside!", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "Scary shirt...", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "Huh? Th-there a storm in it!", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "Swish swish, bye-bye plants! Hee-hee!", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "G-go away!!", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "Hey! No eating!!", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "N-not scared of you, florp!", CHARLIE_NPC = "It the scary night lady!!", CHARLIE_HAND = "What you want, florp?", NITRE_FORMATION = "Big bunch of funny rocks.", DREADSTONE_STACK = "Oooh, big shiny rock!", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "Found page for scrappy book!", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "N-not scared of weird light, florp!", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "No more room in scrappy book.",

Walter:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "I wish I could get a better look inside...", SHADOW_FORGE = "It's really handy! Get it? Because it has hands?", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "Don't worry, I'm great at setting things up!", FUSED_SHADELING = "Woby, look! It has a ball on its tail!", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "Woah! The ball's alive!", VOIDCLOTH = "All that's left of that poor shadow monster.", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "Woby doesn't like it when I wear that.", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "It almost looks like it has a face, doesn't it?", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "An umbrella that comes with its own lightning!", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "I think it just blinked!", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "They seem fun!", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "I bet they're friendly!", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "Oooh, neat! That one can fly!", CHARLIE_NPC = "Excuse me, ma'am! It's dangerous here, do you need any assistance?", CHARLIE_HAND = "We should give it a hand! Heh. Good one, Walter.", NITRE_FORMATION = "Huh. Looks like a big clump of rocks.", DREADSTONE_STACK = "I bet there's more buried deep underground!", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "I should add it to my scrapbook!", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "What was that weird light? We should check it out, Woby!", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "I've already filled out my scrapbook.",

Wonkey:

Wanda:

-- Rifts 2 SHADOWRIFT_PORTAL = "This isn't good...", SHADOW_FORGE = "Quite a nice change of pace to have shadows working for me.", SHADOW_FORGE_KIT = "I'll have it up and running in just a tick.", FUSED_SHADELING = "You stay away from me!", FUSED_SHADELING_BOMB = "What a nasty little thing!", VOIDCLOTH = "Tatters of spacetime.", VOIDCLOTHHAT = "Oooh, it makes one look rather mysterious, doesn't it?", ARMOR_VOIDCLOTH = "I prefer chains that have a pocket watch at the end of them.", VOIDCLOTH_UMBRELLA = "At least it will keep me dry.", VOIDCLOTH_SCYTHE = "Did I just hear a whisper? No, I must have imagined it.", SHADOWTHRALL_HANDS = "Try all you might, you'll never catch me!", SHADOWTHRALL_HORNS = "I will not be your dinner!", SHADOWTHRALL_WINGS = "Shoo! Shoo!!", CHARLIE_NPC = "She looks happy... that doesn't bode well.", CHARLIE_HAND = "Me? Help YOU?!", NITRE_FORMATION = "How exciting, more rocks!", DREADSTONE_STACK = "It's coming from deep below the surface.", SCRAPBOOK_PAGE = "Did I leave this here?", },

ANNOUNCE_SHADOW_RIFT_MAX = "Something has shifted...", ANNOUNCE_SCRAPBOOK_FULL = "Didn't I already fill out my scrapbook?",

annnddd that's all of them. have fun with them

[catchyhuh]

What sort of hobbies or interests do you imagine the Gang having (outside thievery or arresting said thieves)? And do they influence the way they go about their usual antics, or are they mostly Unrelated to everything else in their lives? :0c

oohhooohoho this is a good one because i have a small handful of actual canonical hobbies/interests that come up occasionally and then i have the ones that solely exist in my mind palace. at least until tms decides to let a random little shrimp from america take the reins on their most longrunning successful franchise anyway,

lupin:

i can’t remember if i mentioned lupin loves puzzles. wait yes i did in the video game list SORRY I’M ALREADY HAVING TROUBLE REMEMBERING WHAT I HAVE AND HAVEN’T GONE OFF ABOUT but yes in canon lupin LOVES puzzles. less like, jigsaw puzzles, more like shapey puzzles. but hell man if you can get him to sit still long enough he might like a jigsaw one just to pass the time

i think he likes cooking. him, jigen and goemon all seem to really Get it. so count this under all of them, they just love yummy food and occasionally the process of making it too

he likes to draw :) somebody has to be behind all the slightly different variants of his little mascot guy. SOMEBODY has to redraw bank floor plans so they can plan out each tiny step of the heist. somebody has to scribble over his own wanted posters to put funny little devil horns on the image CMON now!!

jigen:

only jigen could be in a fucking arcade theater complex and pull out a fucking crossword puzzle. why is this dude honestly trying to speedrun being a grouchy old man before he even turns 40. i mean no hate, no hate to crossword puzzles, they are cool but i’m more of a wordsearch guy. BUT THERE’S OTHER STUFF TO DO JIGEN!! at least he’s not going for sudoku though

very random but i think he might like sewing in a passive sense. with how particular he is about his hat and really ANY clothes on his person, he probably just picked up a needle one day to fix a tear and then was like Huh. this isn't too bad actually. kinda repetitive and calming. and then the others found out and tried to get him to fix all their stuff too SO HALF PLEASANT AND HALF NOT SO PLEASANT

fujiko:

you may think i’m insane but fujiko must genuinely have some sort of fondness for computers and technology. more than she lets on at least, because. how DO you know how to fly every type of aircraft. how DO you know how to crack into almost any computer firewall? how do you know how to isolate a computer virus as it’s ALREADY corrupted HALF OF THE SYSTEM?? this goes beyond job necessity to me she must really have some hidden underlying passion for this stuff

i think it’d be cute if she took up some kinda journaling. i mean god knows she’s not writing about her FEELINGS in that little leather notebook, and she doesn’t really have the time to commit to like, scrapbook shit (even if she had the time, she’s not sentimental like that) but something simple like “this is a list of m&m variants in order of how disgusting to not disgusting they taste to me <3” with little candy stickers and gel pen hearts drawn in. the next page has a bloodstain on it and the only thing written is “dw about that lol”

goemon:

okay i KNOW i’ve pushed the Arts Enjoyer goe agenda before but i recently saw that part 3 production art again of him chilling with the pottery wheel so i must state, once again, goemon LOVES sculpting shit in all forms. chip away at some rock, throw zantetsuken at a block of wood, actually invest in some clay for fucking once, whatever he uses, he’ll make something pretty good. and even if it wasn’t good it’s still a fun hobby for him. keeps his hands loose but precise

oh my god you know what he would love. dominoes. you know when people make those like crazy long domino strings that form a pattern when they’ve all fallen. if anybody here could have the precision and strangely placed patience to do shit like that it’s definitely this guy

zenigata:

going through this list easily and eagerly typing up little funfacts about things i do know they like outside of their. “jobs” and then slowly realizing as i get to zenigata that i... cannot think of anything he. uh. does for fun. damn. he DOES talk about movies a lil bit from time to time, and knowing his mixture of a freakish eye for detail and also missing the most obvious things ever i bet hearing him talk about a movie is twice as fun as actually watching it. i would pay HUNDREDS to hear him try to explain what he thinks of space odyssey to me

it would be-- i have no reasoning for this but it would be so cute and hilarious if he did like. tiny magic tricks. you know? like card appearing out of thin air, coin behind your ear type shit. tiny stuff he figured out on his brief off time. we know lupin can do little stuff like that too but it'd just be hilarious if zenigata, completely unawarely and unintentionally for once, ended up being better than him at some inconsequential shit like making a pair of keys disappear

and i guess in light of recent discoveries they all like golf. apparently. well. no one is perfect

[inherstars]

Gears of War | Unknown Issue (4 of 5)

Gotta leave for lunch soon, but here's a bit more. Both of these people just need a fucking hug. Previous section here.

Scylla’s throat tightened with a logjam of questions, a breath she couldn’t let out, but she held it all in check.  Marcus wouldn’t look at her, continuing to turn the scrapbook pages, but he got out at least one word, choked around the stricture of emotion.

“...Eat.”

She dug into the sandwich again, needing something to do besides sit there and gawp at him.  It took a long time for him to speak again, sorting slowly through the snippets and snapshots and sketches of her life.

“Where have you been all this time?,” he growled.  “Why did you wait this long?”

“I was at New Hope,” she got out between bites.  “I was their ward until I turned eighteen.  Six months ago I bought a train ticket out here.  I’d spent a year trying to track down if you were still alive and, if you were, where I might find you.  And that information wasn’t easy to come by, let me tell you.”

A grunt. “That’s by design.”

“...anyway.  With the money I had left after the ticket, I bought that bike.  Rented a room in a boarding house.  Now I work in a cafe in town.  Sometimes I pick up shifts at the thrift shop, they give me a discount on clothes and stuff.”

Just for a second the blue of his eyes caught the light as he looked at her.

“That bike’s gotta go.”

She sat up, unexpectedly offended.

“I like my bike.”

“You’re not riding that thing uphill when winter gets here.”  

Scylla’s head was spinning. When had this even become a debate?  And the only uphill from town was here.

Marcus reminded her, “You didn’t answer my question.”

But the answer wasn’t that easy to articulate.  She took a break to eat more of her sandwich, though her internal alarms were starting to sound about the amount of room she had left inside.

“It’s a complicated answer.”  She adjusted her fingers on the soft cushion of bread, trying to piece the explanation out in a way he’d understand.  “When Anya… when she signed into the program at the clinic, there was language in the paperwork about what would happen to the baby’s remains if it didn’t survive, or was stillborn.  For research, I guess.  I’m about as familiar with legal jargon as I am medical, but technically I was stillborn.  Until I wasn’t.  In the absence of a mother, and further instructions, I became their property.”  She shrugged, but limply.  “So… pretty recently, that was just how I was raised.  As a ward of the facility.  Lots of genetic testing, bloodwork, studies.” He stopped turning pages and looked at her, squarely this time.

“No foster parents?”

“No fixed ones, no.  I had a private room. A tutor.  Sometimes, somebody or another took me home for an extended holiday, if they didn’t have staff to mind me at the facility. But no one I got attached to.”  More quietly she admitted, “...no one that got attached to me.”

He leaned forward, frustration rising in his voice.

“Why the fuck didn’t you come find me before now?”

Scylla started to answer and stopped.  Her mouth shut quickly, and she looked tightly away, sitting back in her chair.  The curve of her jaw hardened as she clenched it, trying not to cry.

Fuck, he was bad at this.  He’d always been bad at this.  If ever he’d had the capacity to be soft, life had strip-mined it from him long ago.

With a growling sigh his attention returned to the scrapbook, flipping another page aggressively.

More photographs.  These were different, however: perfect squares on matte white cardstock, clinical in execution and presentation.  There were twelve altogether, arranged across a two-page spread, two by three.  At first he mistook them for mugshots, the central figure in each one posed to stand in front of a white wall with black lines demarcating height by feet and inches.

It was Scylla in the pictures, he realized.  From age one through twelve, one snapshot for each year.  Year one required the assistance of two hands from off-frame holding her upright, her eyes owlish, expression confused.  Age two through five almost looked like normal school photos, if not for the height chart.  She stood on her own, dressed in a plain white undershirt and leggings, smiling in that exaggerated, gap-toothed way of all small children who don’t really understand why they’re being made to look in a camera.  She held a stuffed toy in one of them.

Six years old, and the smile was gone.  The eyes she gave the photographer were wary, as if she’d just been scolded.

Seven, eight, nine.  There was no life left in this child. No light in her eyes.  She couldn’t be scolded or bribed to look at the camera.

Ten, eleven.  She was so thin.  Listless.  A hand had to be reintroduced to the photo to push her upright to the correct height.

Something changed when she was twelve.  There was life in her again, but it wasn’t joyful.  They were his eyes burning out of her face, under dark brows, with a rage he finally, instantly, unquestioningly recognized.  Her fists were clenched at her sides, little fingernails cutting into her palms, shoulders rolled angrily forward.

That’s my daughter, he thought.  He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

Marcus closed the book quietly.

“...what did they do to you when you were twelve years old?”

But the girl in front of him was a reflection of her eleven year old self: thin, listless, slightly slouched, as if she needed a hand to push her upright.  Her eyes found him only tiredly, with an ache he felt in his gut.

“When I was little, I asked them who my father was, and if I could meet him.  I asked for years.  When I was around… seven, I guess?  They told me it was you, but… they said you’d signed away rights to me when I was born.  That you weren’t interested, when you found out it was a girl.  And because I’d killed your wife.”

She sat up straighter, smoothing her hands outward along the table’s edge.  “When I was twelve I finally realized that was probably a lie.  That a lot of what they’d told me might have been a lie.  That you might not even know I existed at all.”

Her eyes sheened, and she was back to twelve.  Welled up with rage, though not at him.“...look,” she whispered.  “I know this is not what you were expecting, and it may not be what you want, and it’s… it’s okay if you want to turn me away and never see me again.  I spent years steeling myself for that, but I need to know. I just need to know how much of that is true.  If you knew about me… if you didn’t want me.  And if not, why.”  Scylla shook her head at him, staring down the wide shock of his eyes, unwilling to be cowed by his emotion or her own.  “We don’t have to fight about it.  But I need to know.”

Continued here.

[letsquestjess]

Memento

Summary: Omega shows Echo the scrapbook she’s been working on. 

Word count: 869

Warnings: Spoilers for episode 8 at the end. 

- - - - -

“They should be back by now,” Echo said, pacing the sparse cockpit of the Marauder. “Where are they?” 

“It is a simple supply run,” Tech replied from beneath the control panel, discarding the fried wires and connecting the new ones. “I am certain there is nothing to worry about.” 

“This wouldn’t be the first supply run to have gone sideways.” Leaning against the console, Echo surveyed the clearing they’d landed in. Gnarled boughs slouched as though they’d fallen asleep on the spot. Between the trunks of the soaring trees, orange and lilac rays slithered along the wilted grass. “If they’re not back by nightfall and that fog picks up, they’ll never make it.” 

Tech mumbled to himself as he worked, and the communications panel purred, booting up in a display of blinking buttons and a deep sigh. “That should work now. Try it again.” 

A voice crackled through the speakers before either could attempt to contact their missing teammates.

“Is anybody there?” Hunter huffed. “Echo? Tech? Somebody respond.”

“We’re here,” Echo said. “Sorry. Comms were down. Where are you? You should have been back ages ago.”

“Wrecker and I won’t be long. Had a problem with some supplies, but we got everything we need. How’s Omega?”

Echo peeked around the open door to the lowered steps where the smallest member of their team sat, book in hand and Lula slumped beside her. “She’s all right. She’s reading.” The signal juddered and Hunter’s response drowned in the static. “Hunter? Can you still hear me?” Nothing. “I thought you’d fixed this.”

“The weather is scrambling the transmission,” Tech reported, tapping at his datapad and clicking his tongue. He scanned the forest and hummed. “As long as they are back within the hour, they should miss the brunt of it.” 

“And as long as they don’t run into any trouble.”

“If that happens, I am sure we will see it.”

“Follow the explosions, right?” Echo joked. “I’ll go tell Omega to get ready to leave. Let me know if they contact us again.”

Remnants of the dense afternoon fog lapped at the foot of the slope, dwindling to a wispy mist as the next influx prepared to sweep the contorted roots and vegetation. From the city, the acrid scent of smoke invaded the forest.

“Hunter and Wrecker are on their way back,” Echo said to the girl scribbling in a notepad. He glanced over the box of craft materials, pencils and cuts of fabric sticking out of the top. “I thought you were reading. What is all this?” 

“Tech told me that creative hobbies are good for keeping your mind preoccupied,” Omega explained, waving for him to join her. “He gave me a notebook to draw in, but it’s also a scrapbook.” She finished her sketch and handed it to him, encouraging him to look through. 

A mixture of items clung to the paper, each telling the tales of their adventures. Some scribbled drawings accompanied the assortment of mementos. One showed Lula carrying a carton of Mantell mix, which Omega brightly told him was added in by Wrecker. 

“Oh, those are the ones I did for all of you,” she said as he reached the middle of the book, flicking a few pages ahead. “These are yours.” 

Echo smiled at the image of a reg manual and a blue handprint, and the drawings of the stories he had shared with her from his early military days. Tiny silver flowers bordered his last page, accompanied by a sprinkling of confetti from a festival he’d taken her to a few months ago and a discarded gold button they’d both found in the alleyway of Cid’s bar. 

“I think I remembered the stories right,” Omega said. 

“You remembered them perfectly.” He flipped through the rest, reminiscing on their scrapes with peril and their narrow flights from the clutches of some creature or other. Towards the end of the notebook, he found an empty sheet, the word ‘Crosshair’ scribbled in the corner. At his side, Omega fidgeted. 

“I don’t know why I kept that one,” she mumbled. “He’s not going to join us, is he?” 

Echo wound his arm around her shoulder and wished he had a hopeful response, but Crosshair was about as predictable as their adventures; he couldn’t be certain what the future would hold for any of them. “Who knows? There’s every chance he might.”

From between the trees, Hunter and Wrecker emerged through the spreading gloom, lugging their haul behind them in a trundling trailer. The wheels bumped over the roots and rattled the contents of the crates. 

“Come on,” Echo said. “Let’s get these supplies on board and head back to Ord Mantell.”

-  -  -  -  -

Departing from Coruscant, the ship shuddered as it crossed the atmosphere and away from their brother. Omega tucked close to the wall of her room as the others spoke quietly between themselves. She dug under her pillow for the scrapbook and opened it onto the section dedicated to Echo, wiping stray tears from her cheek. He wasn’t gone, she reminded herself, slowly turning the page. He was on a mission, and when he got back, she’d have a wealth of adventures to tell him about.

[snugglebeans3000]

Wholesome Headcanons for mY heART

Yu loves to collect stickers. It all started when he got a pair of noise cancelling headphones from Tsubasa and he started to decorate it with cool stickers he got from tournaments and friends, but since then he has a whole scrapbooks with pages covered in stickers. His favorite is his Dino themed book because he gets to rant about his extensive and honestly impressive knowledge about dinosaurs. I feel like whenever it’s somebody’s birthday he makes them a card adorn with stickers of their favorite things, which are always really goofy and makes the group laugh.

Kyoya volunteers at a local cat animal shelter on the weekends when he’s in town. He claims he only does it for the workout when he gets hauling in the food bags but this is a lie. He enjoys every second that he spends with the animals. I like to think every time a cat gets adopted he cries because he’s made such a strong connection with them and he’ll miss them, but he’s happy knowing they’re going to a loving family. He especially has a soft spot for the older fat cats in the shelter and will give them extra treats when no one’s looking.

Zeo and Toby have a game night every week. It’s a tradition that they started from when Toby was still stuck at the hospital and didn’t have a lot of fun stuff to do in his room. It started out as just simple games, but since then it’s escalated to a full on session lasting like 3-5 hours. I think they especially love things like little card games where they’re solely playing to just bamboozle each other. They would have like an extreme version of Uno they would play where they just go bat shit crazy, and they would end up cussing and screaming and dying of laughter by the end of it. They invite Masamune to these Intense matches just to watch him suffer as he tries to figure out the rules.

Benkei worked as a MA/nurse to help pay for the restaurant he opened up in beyblade shogun steel. He first went into it for the pay, but he liked helping people so much he eventually really started to enjoy it. I don’t know why I have this Headcanon but imagining him in big blue scrubs with a clip board covered in bull stickers with a little smiley face nurse badge makes me just so happy. I feel like he really loves helping the kids that are scared of the doctors feel more comfortable by giving them cool stickers/bandaids after they get a shot or session done. His favorite thing he always wanted to do though was Physical Therapy, which he developed a love for after Kyoya went through his bottom surgery and needed to do P.T. Plus, he thinks it’s really handy to have first aid knowledge on you when you’re training new bladers, in case one of them has a medical emergency they need help with.

Ryo loves Karaoke. He didn’t know what it was until he moved into the city and joined the WBBA and he was invited to an office party where he was introduced to it and he had a blast. His favorite song to karaoke to is Dancing Queen by Abba. Probably has the worst dance moves ever known to man. Gingka and Hikaru are embarrassed by it but have no power to stop it.

[boxyfont]

Canvas of Creativity: Unleashing Inspiration with Kraft Paper Notebooks

Utilizing a kraft paper notebook offers a special and harmless ecosystem method for catching your considerations, thoughts, and imagination. The following are multiple ways you can capitalize on your kraft paper notebook:

Journaling:

Use it as an individual diary to report your contemplations, encounters, and reflections. Make an appreciation diary, writing down things you're grateful for daily.

Sketching and Drawing:

The unbiased foundation of kraft paper gives a fantastic material for portraying and drawing. Try different things with various workmanship mediums like pencils, charcoal, or gel pens.

Bullet Journaling:

Coordinate your tasks and objectives utilizing a slug diary design. Tweak designs, trackers, and schedules to suit your requirements.

Creative Writing:

Compose brief tales, and verses, or conceptualize new inventive thoughts. Try different things with various composing styles and classifications.

Travel Diary:

Use it to report your movement encounters, adding representations, tickets, and keepsakes. Make a visual travelog with a blend of words and outlines.

Recipe Book:

Transform your kraft paper notebook into a customized recipe book. Glue patterns of recipes, add your cooking notes and make a culinary showstopper.

Mind Planning:

Utilize the journal for mind planning and meetings to generate new ideas. Associate thoughts, draw graphs and outwardly investigate ideas.

Scrapbooking:

Change it into a scrapbook by adding photographs, magazine patterns, and other memorabilia. Narrative occasions and recollections with a hint of imagination.

Doodle Pad:

Allow your imagination to stream by involving the journal as a doodle cushion. Fill pages with drawings, designs, and multifaceted plans.

Objective Setting:

Set and track your present moment and long-haul objectives. Separate errands, screen progress, and celebrate accomplishments.

Day-to-day Organizer:

Put together your day by making a day-to-day organizer. Focus on errands, put forth objectives, and consider your achievements.

Care and Appreciation:

Integrate care activities, statements, and appreciation records. Utilize the kraft paper as a material for positive confirmations.

Keep in mind, that the excellence of a kraft paper journal lies in its flexibility. Whether you're an artist, writer, planner, or somebody who loves to write down thoughts and ideas, a kraft paper scratch pad can be a wonderful and eco-accommodating ally for your imaginative undertakings.

The best option available today is the Boxyfont Kraft paper notebook. With its eye-catching black closure band and charming poetry book design, this rustic DIY notebook will inspire you to write down your everyday aspirations. Our Kraftbook is a distinctive and cutting-edge notebook made to improve your writing. It is a well-crafted item that blends the functionality of a contemporary smart notebook with the timeless qualities of a traditional journal.

These design elements come together to create an amazing kraft daily planner that appeals to lovers of classic writing as well as design aficionados.

The buttery brown Boxyfont Kraftbook is a product of the union of nostalgia and design, encouraging journaling, handwriting, and the coziness of taking time out to decompress.

It handles it all, allowing you to let your creativity run wild. From authors recording their ideas to painters seeking inspiration.

With the boxyfont Kraftbook, rediscover the joy of writing on quality artist paper one sustainable page at a time.

Visit: https://boxyfont.com/collections/the-kraftbook

[hexabeast]

🌹🍄🌸🥀 Lucille

🌹 Where in the world does your OC feel most at home? Is there any reason why? If it’s not the place they were born, where were they born? Is there a certain somebody that makes them feel at home where ever they may be? What does home mean to them?

Lucille never had 'home'. They've been transient their entire life, having just 'swam out of the abyss' one day many, many, many moons ago. They gravitate to places, but ultimately those are just brief stops before they move on. Nothing ever felt like home.

Then they went and met this wizard who is genuine and dorky and puts his entire heart into everything he does, including how he loves, and. God dammit. They got attached. As they so often do. But this wizard got attached right back, is the thing. And it's such a novel experience, to love (even platonically) and be loved back in such an earnest fashion.

They didn't realize it. I don't even think they realize it yet, but Craigory Danthew is Home. They keep coming back, even, or perhaps especially, when they need that safe harbor. He's their lighthouse telling them rest is just on the horizon, that they can stop and relax and are safe and Home.

🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?

Lucille cannot cook to save their life. They mostly eat whatever they can catch, so basically raw fish and more raw fish. Having barely any money or anything to barter with means that a lot of foods normally available on boardwalks and beaches is also not available to them. But that won't stop the occasional sticky fingers or good samaritan.

Fried food is a comfort food for them. Along with citrus like oranges. Beaver tails/elephant ears and other friend dough/breads being an absolute favorite. This doesn't mean they won't eat other foods! Just they don't have a lot of...experience with other food.

🌸 What are some of their favourite things and why? List as many as you can think of!

Sunsets, beach glass, bones, knotwork/rope work/whatever you wanna call the bracelet stuff, hugs, carrying people, swimming, laughter...sharing experiences with others... being held.

🥀 How would your OC decorate a notebook or journal? What kind of things are written in there? Could you give an example of a nice entry?

Lucille can read and write, they were taught when they were young. Bit it's a skill i..don't think they actually have kept up with? At least the writing part. Partially because...well, hard to keep things like that in the ocean.

A notebook for them is a scrapbook. Filled with photos and little keepsakes from things. Flowers they found inland and pressed to preserve. Leaves. Charms or shards of something carefully taped to the pages. Photos and dates and probably little faces and a short sentence like "AT THE BEACH"

Maybe if they had a place and the tools to keep things like that, they'd start.

[ddarker-dreams]

Christmas Together / Scarlet Ribbons.

kicking off the christmas season with some highly indulgent hcs ! i’m also planning to write mini scenarios of getting caught under the mistletoe with each bucci gang member ehehe 

[Scarlet Ribbons description]

Bruno Bucciarati;

It’s likely that Bruno will be the one you spend your first Christmas in Italy with. He’ll do everything that he can to make it a memorable experience for you, from taking you sightseeing to offering to spend the day together. His emphasis is always on the togetherness the season is meant to bring, so he’ll do what he so you never feel lonely or homesick. 

When you’re dating, he’ll ask to take you to his hometown on the sea during the holiday season. Bruno wants to show you, the most important person in his life, where he had made beloved childhood memories. Of course, this includes treating you to meals and a stay in a luxury hotel. Bruno’s overjoyed to share this aspect of himself with you, an innocence that he long thought departed from him. You get to create new memories and reminiscence on old ones together.

The most likely from everyone here to propose during the holiday season. It feels fitting somehow, after sharing this much about himself and his ideals, that you two could eternally be tied together. Should you say yes, Bruno would obviously be elated, holding you so tight without intending to let go for as long as you should indulge him. Afterward, he’d bring you to the area his father is buried, saying that he’s now in good hands with you.

What Bruno would get you: A ring, whether it be an engagement ring or just a token of his love until you’ll have him as your husband. It’d likely cost a small fortune, a gold twist ring with a diamond in the center. 

What Bruno would like from you: Honestly, this man needs a week or so away. Of course with you to sweeten to deal. Promise him a cruise and he’ll be putty in your hands. 

Giorno Giovanna;

Growing up, Giorno never got to truly celebrate Christmas, only learning about it in school. Due to that, he’s knowledgeable about the holiday but doesn’t feel a real connection to it. His newfound enthusiasm would come from getting to watch you enjoy the various activities. He does his best to create more time in his busy schedule as not to miss out on this time meant to be spent with those dearest to him. 

He would honestly melt if you brought him hot chocolate while he’s working in his office. It’s a small but touching gesture that warms his heart, it feels so surreal to him to have someone who loves him as much as you do. Giorno will invite you to stay with him so that the two of you can sit on the couch together, setting his work aside as he by far favors your company. Might get a bit mischievous and dab away the whipped cream you get on your face, leaning in closer than necessary with a sly smile. 

Gold Experience Requiem is something of a sentient Stand, but still closely reflects Giorno’s wishes that he keeps locked away. While the two of you are walking somewhere, his Stand will imbue life into a nearby object, creating mistletoe that hangs above your heads. Giorno would bashfully apologize for his Stand’s behavior, only to be pleasantly surprised when you go on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He will be thinking about this moment for the rest of the week, god, your lips are so soft and feel so nice.

What Giorno would get you: Everything . No, but really, Giorno is going to want to spoil you even more than usual. You look at something in a window for .00001 seconds and it’s going to be wrapped up and given to you. Somebody stop this man .

What Giorno would like from you: Poor boy probably hasn’t ever gotten a Christmas present before, so anything would touch his heart. Giorno would love anything handmade or with sentimental value. A scrapbook or photos would be treasured. 

Guido Mista;

Mista has honestly never really thought this time of year is anything special, not that he doesn’t enjoy it. He’s just never been big into holidays and stuff. Experiencing all these things with you changes his tune towards it though, it makes it all the more special. Every cheesy couple activity under the sun is going to be done with him, a goofy grin on his face. He’s so in love and can’t wait to make dumb memories together. 

For some reason, he’s oddly determined to make a gingerbread man house with you. The gingerbread man cookies he decorates look a little off, their proportions funny and icing smeared everywhere. If you can’t hold back your laughter at the nightmarish looking creatures, he’s going to smear icing on your face, so beware. Mista will lick it off before running away from your wrath. 

Sex Pistols get included in the celebration too of course. They’d be over the moon should you make cookies that look like them, though if you look away for a second too long, they’re still going to eat them. Most of your cooking consists of Mista trying to shoo away Pistols while you’re doing a majority of the work lmao. Number Five does his best to help! He’ll turn the recipe book’s pages for you and offer to help decorate. It’s super precious. 

What Mista would get you: Ugly sweaters that he thinks are cool looking and literally everything on your wishlist. He spends all day wrapping your dozens of presents with Pistols pitching in.

What Mista would like from you: Mista is an easygoing guy, so he’d love basically anything. Put a bow on your head and say you’re his gift and it’ll really get him going. ; ) 

Pannacotta Fugo;

Fugo doesn’t associate Christmas with warm and fuzzy memories. He remembers all the dreadful socialite parties his parents would drag him to, how he was forced into uncomfortable tuxedos for hours, pretending like they were a happy family. With you in life his now, he’s willing to give it another go, but would need some encouragement. Fugo would only be doing it for your sake since he’s so whipped for seeing you happy. <3

Would love walking hand in hand with you through Via San Gregorio Armeno, taking in the remarkable craftsmanship of the nativity scenes. Fugo will visibly light up at the chance to impress you with his knowledge. He excitedly goes into rambles about the history of various things, from saints to traditions that were born in Naples. He’ll have a cute flush on his cheeks when he finishes speaking, realizing how you’re able to get him to talk so much. It’s precious. 

Fugo is very insistent that you bundle up during this wintery season. Before you leave to go anywhere, he’s mumbling that you’re going to catch a cold, throwing scarves over you. He would never admit it, but the sight of you all bundled up with cheeks flushed from the cold is literally the cutest thing he’s ever seen in his life. Don’t point out his staring, or he’ll get sulky. 

What Fugo would get you: Fugo would fret over getting a gift you’d like. He’d go somewhat old fashioned, getting you a beautiful necklace that has your birthstone in the middle. 

What Fugo would like from you: Attention. No, but really, he loves learning, get him some books on a topic he recently got interested in and he’ll be over the moon. Especially if you write a little note for him, he’d ascend.  

Narancia Ghirgha;

Narancia is practically vibrating in excitement over getting to spend this time with you. He’ll tell you all the stuff he wants to do, enthusiastically waving his arms around, though it’s unlikely you’ll be able to do everything he wants. Narancia is going to be glued to your hip, ready to experience all the mushy couple stuff he can. He’s a bit clingy during this time, but indulge him, he hasn’t had good Christmas memories since his mom was alive and healthy. 

God bless your soul if it snows . You probably already expect as much from him at this point, but he’s going to be throwing snowballs at you, laughing and running around when you pout at him. Narancia has a competitive streak, so throwing them back will incite a wild snowball fight. It’s all fun and games until he breaks out Aerosmith to attack your snow fort, then you’re having to reprimand him for using his Stand. >:((

He’ll tell you what it was like being in a detention center during Christmas, opening up more about his past. While he doesn’t seem to recount the time with obvious pain, you know him well and can tell when he’s hurting. Narancia would honestly consider proposing to you on the spot when you comfort him, saying that he’ll never have to spend this time of year alone now that he has you. It’s a sweet moment that he’ll literally never forget. 

What Narancia would get you: Narancia would spend days making a custom mixtape, full of songs that you both love!!! He’d accompany the CD with bags of candy, bashfully offering to feed it to you. 

What Narancia would like from you: If you wrote a song for him, he would probably cry from happiness. Narancia would be clapping like a madman when you finished singing it, saying it’s the best thing he’s ever heard in his life, and fully meaning it too.

Leone Abbacchio;

From an outsider’s perspective, one might expect Abbacchio to take a Grinch-like approach towards Christmas, but he’s surprisingly fine with it. Aside from loud caroling. He’ll make his displeasure for that known. It’s kind of always been just another month for him, but for your sake, he’ll make an effort to do whatever you please. Abbacchio grumbles as you drag him from place to place, but he’s literally melting on the inside at your cute enthusiasm. :’)

Abbacchio would forever imprint the sight of you in the snow into his memory. He watches the snowflakes dance around you, falling into your hair and glistening beautifully. While you’re going around trying to catch the snow, he allows himself this single happiness, silently wondering if he deserves it after everything he’s done. Before the negative thoughts can fester, you call him over, asking to make snow angels together. He doesn’t do it, he’ll just watch you having fun lmao.

You actually managed to convince him to wear matching sweaters, but not without a fair share of puppy eyes. Abbacchio is inclined to give in to most of your whims and this time is no different. Of course, he’ll only do it if no one is around, to save his honor. He’d enjoy having an arm wrapped around you by the fireplace, closing his eyes in contemplation. He feels immense gratitude to your presence in his life. 

What Abbacchio would get you: Similar to Fugo, Abbacchio would feel worried about getting a good gift. He knows he can be prickly at times and feels this would be an opportunity to showcase his love for you. Eventually settles on a night out at your favorite restaurant and gifts you a bracelet at the end. 

What Abbacchio would like from you: Your hand in marriage, he’d appreciate simple little things with lots of thought put into them. Making him breakfast, getting him a pair of shoes that goes with one of his outfits, stuff like that. 

Trish Una;

Trish lives for all the cute couple-y stuff that you two can do during this season. Even if she won’t admit it outright, you can sense her excitement, but she’ll pout if you point it out. She’s not much for baking usually but will want to make cookies with you on the weekends as a date. Trish especially likes decorating them and gets super focused on getting the details perfect. 

You two go on so many shopping trips. Trish will be holding your hand, taking you from store to store, trying on clothes together. She loves giving you recommendations based on what would complement your body type, you’ll be dressed to perfection at the end of the day. Trish doesn’t even bother looking at the price tags, she just picks what looks good and keeps going lmao. 

In your downtime together, she’s going to be singing softly to you, running her hands through your hair as you lay down on her lap. Trish lives for intimate moments like this. She remembers how she loved spending Christmas with her mother, and while it hurts she can no longer do that, she’s immensely grateful to be with you. It makes the loneliness she would’ve felt more bearable. If you fall asleep while she sings to you, Trish will place a kiss to your forehead, whispering how she loves you in a way she’d normally be too embarrassed to. 

What Trish would get you: Fashion and makeup baby !! It wouldn’t be exclusive to one day either. Lip gloss, eyeshadow palettes, new shoes, jewelry, bath bombs, the whole works. She gets a bit too into it. 

What Trish would like from you: Matching accessories would make her heart practically beat out of her chest. That, or a charm bracelet, with charms linked to specific memories of your time together. <33

[apolloamy]

Scrapbooks Of Flowers

the fifth photograph: scrapbook of poppies

"When the lights go out, will you take me with you?"

- Summertime, My Chemical Romance

"That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be who they really are. Most people love you for who you pretend to be."

- Jim Morrison

They run through endless fields of gold which are nowhere near endless or golden, but they choose to believe how they are. All four seasons splash into one and Dorothy’s choice of clothes finally seams rational, with her gloves and short sleeves and waistcoats made out of various colorful materials that shouldn’t make sense, but do. An eternity of memorable every day moments meet up under gloriously ordinary circumstances which all lead to Revelius feeling like he’s finally found himself in a happenstance worthy of a book dedication or a songwriting experience. He lifts up his arms as he runs thinking about the way his life during this very hour must look like from a foreign point of view. He hopes it looks like a painting.

What can he say, he loves it when the reflection compliments the original creation, whatever it might represent.

Simply put, he likes to see the beauty in things.  Including the parts in which they are broken. Light always finds a way to slip through the cracks. You just have to turn it on.

So, he runs. Scraped-up knees and all.

Dorothy has somehow managed to get away from him. She's so far into the field, the sun complimenting her, embracing her features as if it was always meant to hold her. Her and no one else. It makes him question his sanity, which he, for the record, does a lot of anyways, no matter the circumstance. Today's dilemma consists of wondering if he was running in the first place. Dorothy positions herself on the grass, her back the sole part of her that he can actually see. A strange fear blossoms inside of him, spreading its petals, tickling his sides. Teasing him. What if she doesn't look back?

But she does look back and then, he's already close enough to touch her. He doesn't. He takes a few steps forward and she lies down completely on the grass in return, staring at him from her flowery kingdom. He stays where he is, smiling from the above, not quite certain if he should put his hands in his pockets or not. There are moments like these, when he feels entirely disconnected from his body, when he wishes to observe and observe only, without the burden of existing and following people, endless parts of himself, around.

"Pass some of that magic to me, will you?"

He hears it as a joke, but it rings in his ears like an echo. Probably because he should pronounce it back.

"All of this must look a lot prettier to you than it does for me."

Yeah, pretty in its most enchanting form. The kind that makes you dizzy.

"I would paint you a picture, but I know I would never be able to finish it, so what's the point?"

"And I would never be able to feel. Not like you do."

It. Feel it. But she doesn't end the sentence like that. An image of a tree, with an incredible amount of tangled branches and flowers growing from each and every of its corners, pays a visit to his head. That's how Dorothy's mind looks like, he thinks. His own is more of a train. List of a thousand blurry places, an object trapped in motion. For her, everything is spinning around. For him, everything is moving forward.

"You wanna know how this feels for me?"

She doesn't respond, just in case he doesn't actually mean it, just in case it was a slip. She's giving him the space to drop the subject. He probably would've, if the day wasn't endless and the fields weren't gold.

"It feels like,... like when you dream and you know for sure that you are dreaming, but you choose to dream some more because you don't want the dream to end even though you know that is will... End."

"A comfortable illusion."

The wind that might have been there or might have been not says hello to his hair and ruffles it a bit. Revelius closes his eyes to welcome it, just in case it is there because he knows it would have been much prettier if it was.

He likes to see the beauty in things. The trick is, often times, he doesn't. So, he adds glittery fragments of the things that he does like to his surroundings, hoping that the world might show him some love in return. When it does provide him with anticipated pleasantries, he is never certain of their authenticity. Or their ability to occupy the delicate presence of air, for that matter.

"What do you think about getting gold lockets?"

"Like, for us?"

"Well yeah, but also no. What do you think of the concept? In general, I mean. What do you think of it?"

"I think it's a complete waste of time. If I love someone, I'm pretty sure I can rely on my ability to pick up on the sensation myself. Why would I need a reminder? Everything's already there, in my head... Where is this coming from?"

"Where's anything coming from, Dorothy?"

He appreciates the lack of scientific explanation on her part. Revelius has a special fondness for dramatic pauses. Dorothy usually allows him to pursue that passion. There's also the opportunity to delve deeper into the context of his last sentence. Neither of them pushes the topic any further. Good. He doesn't quite know where he was going with that. It can remain a lousy joke, if it ever gets transported to pages. You know, in case they aren't on those very pages right now.

"What do you think?"

"Huh?"

"What do you think of them? The gold lockets?"

"I'm not sure. It just feels appealing to me. Having a piece of somebody else, somebody that's not you, around your neck, resting on your heart, at all times. Something that's physically there. I like that."

He stops to take a breath. Dorothy tugs on his sleeve a little, almost unnoticeable, she now sitting up. He translates the gesture as an invitation and then allows himself to sit beside her on the grass. Home at last.

"She keeps putting herself into these golden, heart shaped lockets that she later attaches to people, people who offer as little, as much, as a handshake born out of nothing other than politeness."

"Who said that?"

"Nova. The sister! The wizard! School essay or something. I don't know what to do with it."

"She really likes your poems, you know."

"The situation called for silence Dorothy, you should have allowed it." he mutters with a laugh which earns him an annoyed glance and that strikingly familiar eye roll. And a smile. Lip-gloss smile at that. But Dorothy would rather leave it unmentioned. He allows it.

"Maybe we should skip the running part this time." Dorothy proposes only a second before he intended to do the same. The great, the funny, the consuming universe and its tricks.

"Yeah, let's do that."

***

He blinks. One. Two. Three. He blinks and he is still there. And he is still him.

 

He blinks and rain comes falling down.

 

Somewhere in the middle of somebody else’s life, Revelius found himself walking into his own. It’s sort of like a collection of countless little glass pieces belonging to various glorious, glorious and dusty, nameless mirrors. The portrait of chaos.

 

And still, the rain is falling down.

He walks home, chest full of memories that he can't possibly hold, but does; city lights and strangers behind him, their voices now forever engraved on his skin. The mirrors, the reflections, the portraits. Each shadow that crosses his path.

Right there, right beside his former high school  (the keeper of life, the home of some of the mirrors) is a little store. He enters it empty handed, exits with a companion, a little paper bag barely grazing the end of his seemingly endless scarf.

When he pulls out the locket and tucks it under his shirt, it rests surely against his heart.

"I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember: somewhere inside of me there will always be a person I am tonight."

- F. Scott Fitzgerald

"He, like me, is haunted by his heart."

- Mahmoud Darwish

[benji-writes]

Sammy, and I, and the Soda Pop Shop

Pairing: Sam Wilson x f!reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: Best friends since childhood, you and Sammy need to fall a part before you can come back together again. 

Warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of death

Sammy and I always made time for the Soda Pop Shop. On the corner of Smock and Singleton, the Soda Pop Shop was a local institution. Across from Colby Cook Memorial Park, locals would pop in for a soda, a Pop Pop Burger, and a bag of Hot Hot fries. The Pop Hot Combo was not to be missed out on, and Sammy and I would get 2 orders of Pop Hots every Friday night, and head across the street to eat them at the picnic table by Magnolia Trees. They were a treat, and a sacred ritual from the time we were kids till the time he left. 

Wednesday nights we’d sit at our favored booth in the Soda Shop and order Slush Puppies – Green Apple and Grape. Sometimes we’d sit at the counter stools and talk to Mama Nell, who had owned the shop and worked behind the counter as long as anyone could remember. Nobody had a lot of money where we came from, but Sammy always took care of me. He’d buy our slushees and our Pop Hots. He’d do extra chores around the house when we were kids, hoping to get a few extra dollars to spend. When we were older, I’d see him mowing lawns or running errands for the neighbors. I could never understand why he did it. I had an allowance when we were little, and as a teenager I babysat the younger kids in the neighborhood. I could easily have bought my own food, but that was just who Sammy was. 

I tried everything I could to show Sam how much he meant to me. I’d bring him breakfast to school in the morning, even when he told me not to. His favorite was always the blueberry bagels. I’d leave him notes in sidewalk chalk on the pavement outside his house. I cut the strings off the community center yo-yos and braided them together to make us matching friendship bracelets. Sammy and I never took them off. Not ever. 

For birthdays and Christmas’s, I’d save up everything I could. I’ll never forget the look on his face when I gave him tickets to what would become our first concert. Or the Christmas after his sixteenth birthday, when I bought him a video camera. 

The best gift I ever gave Sammy though was the day before he left for the Air Force. It was years of photographs, mementos, flowers. All those special things that I’d saved over the years. I had never been so nervous. 

We’d gone out that night to the Soda Pop Shop. Everyone came by to see him: to say goodbye, to reminisce, to laugh and laugh, and to cry. 

Mama Nell told wistful stories about Sammy. She lived in the house next door, and had watched me and Sammy play in the streets, and run around the park since we were practically in diapers. She had watched us grow up, always made time to ask us how school was going, and what our plans for the weekend were. Gave us free slushees whenever she could sneak us one without the other customers noticing.  

When the night wound down, and even Sam’s family had made their way home, Sammy and I were still sat in our booth by the window. Just sitting there. Quiet. Unwilling to go home. It was then, with the tables up on the chairs, and all the stores on the block closed for the night, that Mama Nell came over and sat down with us. She placed two orders of Pop Hots down, alongside a Green Apple and a Grape Slush Puppie. We’d hardly eaten a thing all night, too caught up in everything to even think about it. Just grabbing a handful of fries, or an onion ring off of somebody else’s plate. 

The food was still steaming. We hadn’t ordered anything, but somehow Mama Nell knew we were hungry. Not just for food, but for more time. For this moment together. For one last Pop Hot before everything changed. 

She sat for a second, all of us just there in the still of the moment, food in front of us waiting to be eaten when she said, “Kids. I’ve never seen anything quite like the two of you,” She took a deep breath, and shook her head. “Won’t be the same round here.” 

With that, she dropped the keys on the table and stood. She was walking towards the door, not even looking at us, “Lock up when you kids are ready. Just drop the key in the mailbox.” 

And then she was gone. Just me and Sammy, alone for the first time all night. On the precipice of a brave new world. One we would have to face alone. 

I was the first to reach for my food. We ate quietly, but together. Sammy would be gone in only a few hours, uncertain as to when we would get to see each other again. 

When I was done eating, Sammy was still making his way through the last of his fries. Eating slow, trying to make it all last. It was then that I finally spoke.

“Hey, Sammy?” It came out quieter than I wanted it to. He didn’t look up. Just kept eating. 

“Sammy?” I said louder this time, and he shoved another fry in his mouth. 

“Sam.” That got his attention. I never called him that.

“Don’t call me that, baby.” He whispered so softly. The way he called me baby made my heart fold in on itself. 

“Then look at me,” I ordered. And he did. A moment went by where we just looked at each other. “I have something for you. I want you to have it.” He wiped his hands off with a napkin and pushed the food wrappers aside while I reached into my bag to pull his present out. It was wrapped delicately in glittery tissue paper. I placed it in front of him, and he looked at it so seriously. And with such care, and the gentlest of hands, he undid the tissue paper. 

A black scrapbook. Nothing on the cover to indicate what would be on the inside. Ever so carefully, he flipped open the cover to see a picture of us two as kids, hugging and smiling for the camera. Underneath, in my handwriting, read the words “ The Adventures of Sammy and I.”

I saw his jaw clench tight. As he flipped from page to page. Picture strewn across each of them, little notes along side. 

“Wishing well we found. Two pennies thrown in. I know what I wished for...”

 “Sittin’ on the dock of the bay. Watchin’ the tide roll away.” 

“Taken after Sammy saw his first pair of tits at Mardi Gras.” 

“Biker wannabe. Sammy during his leather jacket phase, leaning against the Soda Shop, trying to catch the babes.” 

“Prom. Sammy couldn’t get a date, so I figured I might as well take pity...” 

“Under the stars. Slush puppies in the summer time. Biggie on the radio. Nights were never better than this.” 

He ran his fingers across the pages. His eyes watered, but no tears would fall. He laughed at some of my descriptions. Let out a long sigh as he ran his hand down cream soda bottle tops, movie stubs, old sticky notes left for one another. The sun-wearing-sunglasses magnet from my school locker that he always made fun of. Magnolia petals that would fall from the tree and onto our picnic table. The fortune from a cookie he gave me that said “Believe it can be done.” 

Precious artifacts that wove together the story of our friendship. Of our everything. 

“Y/N... baby, I-“ the words caught in his throat. 

“I know, Sammy. I know” I grabbed his hand from across the table. 

He looked up at me. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I had a feeling it was about all the things we’d left unsaid. All the things that would stay unsaid. 

“You’ll stay safe out there, won’t you Sammy?” The words came out like a prayer. 

“I’ll always come back to you.” 

We sat in the park that night. Stayed out till he had to leave for basic training in the morning. We walked to the bus together. His mom and sister were already waiting there with his bag. He hugged them so tight. His mom wept. His sister pretended not to. He took a deep breath, and refused to let his chin wobble. That was my Sammy, alright. Brave face. Always trying to take care of everyone but himself. He hugged me last, shoved his head right into the crook my neck. He breathed in deep, as if he wanted to savor every piece of this last moment. As if he knew things would never be the same. He kissed my forehead, “I love you.” 

I so badly wanted him to mean it the way I meant it, “I love you too, Sammy.” 

He got on that bus, and as it pulled away a feeling settled. It was uneasy. It was empty. Something greater than loss, something more profound than grief. It was a feeling took root in the very fabric of my body. And I just knew I would never see Sammy again. 

And I didn’t. 

Not for many years. 

Not until today... 

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

Mama Nell didn’t have any kids of her own. No husband to speak of. Just a handful of scrappy kids that came in and out of her shop over the years. She’d helped us out when we needed it. There were months where we spent more time with Mama Nell than with our own families. She was special to us. Family. 

After Sammy left, I spent more time with Mama Nell than I did with anyone – more than my family, more than Sammy’s family. I would help do chores around her house, stuff she “couldn’t” do anymore: wiping baseboards, washing the woodwork, replacing sheets and blankets, scrubbing the tub, vacuuming, dusting, and so on goes the list. Really Mama Nell was just giving me a reason, a guise, to be over at her house all the time. I was helping out. And she enjoyed having the company. We’d play hours of scrabble, and I’d usually lose. I’d show her new movies (anything with Denzel was her favorite). According to Mama, “Men had no right lookin’ that good.” We’d gossip and chop onions, and tomatoes for the Shop. 

I would spend hours with Mama at her house. But I couldn’t bring myself to actually walk into the Pop Shop. Not alone. Not without Sammy. Not for a long time. 

It was probably six months after Sammy had left before I even considered going into the shop. It was eight months before Mama Nell convinced me to help her bring over some containers of vegetables.

 Nine months had gone by, without so much as a phone call from Sammy. Not a single letter of mine replied too. Even his mom had only talked to him on the phone a few times. Said there was a lot going on he couldn’t talk about. But I didn’t care if he couldn’t talk about what he was doing in the military. I just wanted to hear his voice, hear him say my name, or crack a joke. I wanted to tell him about how me and Mama Nell had gotten even closer, and that I missed him. I wanted to see his chicken scratch handwriting, where you needed context clues to tell if he was trying to write a “g” or an “s.” I just wanted him. Something. Anything. I felt like a dog, begging for even the smallest of scraps. But nothing ever came. Any updates I got were passed on by his mom. He was supposed to come home after a couple of months, but he never did. And that feeling I had felt in my stomach the day he’d left, from the moment he stepped on that bus, only grew deeper and deeper. It became more. I was sick to my stomach with the knowledge that my Sammy was gone. 

It was his birthday – just over nine months after Sammy had left – that I really went back to the Soda Pop Shop. I sat down. Alone at our booth. Everything felt too still. Too quiet. The place was closed, but Mama Nell had long since given me a key, not that I’d ever really needed it before. Part of me still wonders if she knew this day would come. Where I’d need to finally have this moment. 

I sat in our booth, like we normally would. I made myself a Pop Hot, just the way Mama had taught me. I poured a Green Slush Puppie. I fiddled with the bracelet on my wrist. 

I ate alone. 

The next day, I started working behind the counter with Mama.

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

“How was school today, Andy?” I asked from behind the counter, handing him a chocolate shake. 

“Stupid.” It came out all mumbled, and huffy, the way it always does when kids are asked about school. 

“You’re not getting picked on are you, honey?” I couldn’t help but worry about him. It was hard not to worry about the kids that came in and out of here. 

He took a long deep breath, “No... it’s just stupid, and I hate math, and it’s almost summer. So it’s just stupid.” 

He took a sip of his milkshake, and shrugged his shoulders. I nodded, because I remember what that was like. Me and Sammy would sit in this very spot after school, and complain to Mama Nell about how dumb school was. And she’d nod along sagely. And then, if it was one of those rare quiet days, a day like today when no one was around, she’d give us both Pop Hots – on the house. 

“Well kiddo, how’s a Pop Hot sound?” I said smiling at him. 

“Amazing! But can you wrap it up for me? I gotta be home before Ma gets mad.” He put his elbow on the table, and rested his cheek on his hand, still sipping on the straw of his milkshake. 

“Sure thing bud, I’m getting ready to close up shop anyway.” 

A few minutes later, I was wrapping up his burger in foil, and throwing his fries in a baggie. Dr. Pepper was his favorite, so I pulled one out of the fridge and stuck that in there too. 

I handed him his bag, and he pushed the empty shake glass towards me, “Be good, alright. Stay safe on the walk home, and I’ll see you soon. Flip the sign ‘closed’ on the way out.” 

He thanked me and was almost out the door when I shouted, “Tell your mother I said hello!” 

“OKAY!” I heard him yell back, muffled as the door began to close in his way out.

He was a good kid. They all were. All the little ones that came running in and out of the shop. It was easy to see why Mama Nell always took to the little rugrats that came in and out of this place. 

I grabbed his glass off the counter and turned around to start washing. The dishwasher was already running for the night, so I turned the faucet on and waited for the water to warm. That’s when the door opened, the bell above it giving a little ring. 

“Sorry pal, we’re closed for the night.” I kept washing, but whoever it was didn’t say anything, and the bell hadn’t rung again so I knew they were still there. 

I let out a little sigh, shut off the faucet, and grabbed a rag to dry my hands. 

“I’m sorry but we’re –“ I turned around, but the words caught in my throat. My rag fell to the floor, and I lifted a hand to my face. 

There was no one I expected to see less. But there he was. Taller, more angular. He’d lost his baby face, and before me stood a man. He looked sharp, like he’d just been to the barber, and for all I knew, he had. He had on a button down, and a pair of jeans. Nice leather shoes. He was even more handsome than I remembered. 

But those eyes. Those eyes that had always been so soft and hopeful. They looked so tired. Worn. Aged.

Aged... because we had aged... it had been years. It had been fucking years since I saw him last. I long since made peace with the fact that I would never see him again. Not a word from him after he left. Not a letter replied to, not a question answered, not a sight to be seen. He never came home. He never wrote. He never called. Never passed a message along to his mother, never wanted to listen to the messages I asked his mother to pass along. None of it. He promised. He was my best friend – half of my whole, all I had ever wanted, and needed, and begged for from the universe in the late of the evening. 

When we had sleepovers, he would hold me so close. We’d wake up and eat cereal in bed and watch Looney Tunes, or Family Matters, or MTV. After our lucky charms, we’d share orange slices, and grapes, and hang out for hours. I’d go home that night, and pray. I was never religious, but something about Sammy always drove me towards the unknown. I didn’t know who I was praying too, who I was begging. But I was desperate for it to work. All I’d ever wanted was my Sammy. It was always just Sammy and I, falling together in the Soda Pop Shop. 

But now... 

Now. I was angry. 

“Get out.” He looked down and nodded, but made no effort to move, “When my mom said I’d find you here, I didn’t really believe her. But when I dropped by your moms house, and she pointed me here, I figured it must’ve been true.”

“Get. Out.” The words came out through clenched teeth. 

But he just started taking steps toward me, “Listen... I know... I know what I did, okay? I know. But, baby-“ I

 cut him off, shaking my head, “Samuel.” 

That got his attention. His eyes shot straight up to mine. He looked at me for a minute. Then he nodded, real solemn, and stopped. “

I’m staying at my mom’s for a while.” 

I didn’t say anything. 

“I just... I wanted to see you.” 

My breath was shallow, “Well, you’ve seen me.” 

He shook his head, and said “Can you at least tell me where I can find Mama Nell? I figured she’d be here too.”

 I looked down, unable to believe my own ears. It was too much, it took everything in me not to break down as I said, “Luling Cemetery. Row 46, 18 down from the Oak tree.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at me for a long while. Then he sniffled, looked down, shook his head, and shook it some more, before he turned around and kicked a chair. 

“What the fuck, Sam!” I walked out from behind the counter, and picked up the chair he’d kicked over, but he just kept walking. Walked right to our old booth. Sat in his old seat. Covered his mouth and cried. Sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. And I stood by the chair, I’d just picked up before I took a real deep breath. 

I was mad at Sammy. Mad didn’t even begin to describe it. Heartbroken, and infuriated, and in so much pain. But somehow he hadn’t known about Mama Nell. How hadn’t he known? 

I had written him letters after she died. Pleaded with him, please come home. I had never known such depths of emptiness. I had lost my Sammy, and I had lost the woman who had taken me under her wing, and showed me how to live for myself. I felt like I had nothing left to give. At first I just asked him to write me back. 

“Just write me back, Sammy. That’s all. Just this once.”  

Then I asked him to call. 

“Just let me hear your voice, Sammy. I just need to hear your voice, Sammy. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Then I asked him to come to the funeral. 

“Sammy, we have to bury her. Sammy, please. Please, Sammy. I need you here for this. I can’t do this on my own. I love you, and I need you now. I need you, Sammy. Please. Please, Sammy. Please come home.” 

Then I broke down. 

“Sammy... Please Sammy... We read the will today. 

She gave me the Shop Sammy... I own the Shop.” 

He never replied. Didn’t attend the funeral. Why didn’t he come? Why wasn’t he there? How didn’t he know? 

I let him cry for a while. Figured he needed it. Just finished cleaning up, and put all the chairs up on the tables. I walked back around the counter, and filled a glass with water, grabbed a box of tissues from underneath the back counter, and headed over to sit. For the first time in so many years, I sat across from Sammy at our old booth. It didn’t feel real. 

I pushed the water towards him, placed the box of tissues next to it, and let him cry it out. 

I’d never seen Sammy like this, not in all our years. I’d seen him shed tears, I’d even seen him cry a little. But sob? Never in my life had I seen him just weep. He looked like a little kid. But more than that, he looked like a broken man. 

When he started to breathe a little more evenly, and had wiped his face dry, I finally spoke. 

“Oh, Sammy,” I whispered. “How could you not know?” 

He shook his head. Closed his eyes, “No one ever... No ever told me. My mom she didn’t... Why didn’t you write me?” 

He sounded crushed, a devastation in his voice that felt so foreign coming from his mouth.

 “Sammy,” I was absolutely reeling, “I wrote you so many times. Sammy I wrote you for years before I stopped, and when Mama Nell died, I wrote you over and over and over. I... I begged you to come home, Sammy.” It all came out like such a broken whisper. 

He looked at me real hard, “No.” 

“Yes, Sammy. I did.” 

“No.” 

“Yes.”

“No,” He was running his hands through his hair. “No you didn’t. I got three letters from you, right in the begging. And yeah, I was an ass for not replying, but I already felt so guilty for leaving, I just didn’t know what to say. But then they stopped. Hard stopped. So don’t tell me you wrote me for years, because it was radio silence from you.” 

I couldn’t believe my own ears, “Sammy, I wrote you hundreds of letters. Hundreds, Sammy.” 

He shook his head, “I don’t... I don’t understand.” 

“Sammy, are you telling me you didn’t get my letters?” 

“Just three. I...” He shook his head, having a hard time trying to process everything. “Pretty early on they pulled me. They were starting a new program, and I was one of the guys they wanted to train for it. I was always asking them if I got any mail. Only thing they ever gave me came from Mom. Eventually I just stopped asking. I never thought...” 

We were quiet a while. Neither of us really knowing how to handle this information.

 “I promised you I’d write...” I finally got out. 

“ I know,” He said. “I know.”

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

Sammy stuck around after that, just like he said he would. He stayed with his mom, and started going to meetings at the VA, trying to process what had happened to him. To us. To Riley, and Mama Nell. 

He told me not long after he came back. He was helping me clean up one night. He’d been helping out around the shop whenever he could. It was so strange to turn around and see him again. 

He walked behind the counter, everyone gone, and only sweeping left to do, and poured himself a big grape Slush Puppie.  

He took a loud sip, “Oh man.” 

Then another “Mmm mmm mmm. I forgot how good these were.” 

I couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah, it’s been a while since I had one myself.” 

As soon as the words were out my mouth his cup was left to sit on the counter, and he was turning around to pour me one. A green apple Slush Puppie just waiting for me. He held it out to me like a present. Like a peace offering. 

“Come on baby, you’ve done enough sweeping. Get on back here and sip.” He was so confident it made me roll my eyes. 

But I listened. Walked over, hopped up onto a stool, and let Sammy serve me. He watched as I took the first sip, and as soon as that cool icy slush hit my tongue, I closed my eyes in sweet bliss. It was so much sweeter than I remembered. The kinda sweet only a kid could like. But it tasted like good memories, and I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for that. 

After a minute or two he said, “I got in contact with my colonel, y’know.”

 I took another sip, “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Told him that I was looking for some letters... Since I’m out now, he said he might as well tell me. Since it was such an experimental program. Something kept under wraps, no one got letters from anyone but immediate family. They have boxes for each of us. So he sent over mine.” 

I didn’t know what to say, “Sammy...” 

He just continued on, “So I finally got your letters,” He took a long shaky breath.  “Baby... baby I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Sammy.” 

“You promised you’d write. I should’ve fought them harder on it.” 

“It’s not your fault, Sammy. You hear me? It’s not your fault. None of it Sam.” I hoped he could hear what I was telling him. He’d told me about Riley that first night. He’d just lost him, and then to find out about Mama Nell like that. It was all too much. 

And I’m a reasonable person. Logical, and understanding. I understood that what happened between Sammy and I wasn’t entirely either of our faults, and that most of it was out of our hands. I spent so many years, with so much anger inside of me. So much grief. And don’t get me wrong, I was still angry. Just not at Sammy anymore. 

“Baby...” he said, shaking his head. 

“Sammy. It’s not your fault.” 

He reached for my hand across the counter, and I let him take it. 

“I got your letters. So,” he said reaching into his back pocket. “I wrote you a reply.” 

He sat the envelope carefully down in front of me, one hand still clutched to mine. I stared at it. A letter I’d waited for for so long. A letter that finally arrived. 

But when I looked up at Sammy, who sat watching me with anxious, awaiting eyes, I found myself asking him something, “Will you read it to me, Sammy?” 

His face froze up. I saw him swallow, “Read it to you?”

And somehow his nervousness made me more confident, more desperate to hear the words come from his mouth, “Yeah, Sammy. Will you? Will you read me your letter?” 

He looked very uncertain. 

“Please, Sammy?” I whispered. 

He closed his eyes, “Okay.” 

He was being brave, and I knew it. Loved him for it. He ran his thumb across my knuckles. Then all at once, that warmth was gone and he was reaching for the envelope. 

He took a moment to himself. Just slight shook his had, as if to ask himself what am I doing? And then, ever so softly, he began to read. 

“Dear baby... 

I got your letters today. Reading them made me homesick. Made me miss Mama Nell and the Shop. But really it made me miss you.” 

He paused, and took a deep breath. The words were sincere, but they sound unnatural coming out of his mouth. They were words he never dreamed he’d say aloud.

“I wonder where the time has gone. Reading all your letters, it makes me feel like no time has passed at all, but there’s been so much lost between now and then.

 I’m sure it sounds dumb. God knows most of the things that come outta my mouth are. But I’d do anything to never be a part from you again. And I know, I know, that so much has happened. Things have gone wrong, and I’ve changed, and you’ve changed. I know we’ve grown up, but I think about tomorrow and it hurts to imagine you not being there...” 

He cleared his throat, “I want you to know that I never stopped loving you. I’ve always loved you, and not a thing that comes between us could ever change that. 

All I know is that I want to learn you all over again. Learn who’ve you grown into. I miss talking to you, and holding you. I miss sneaking kisses on your cheek, and tucking you in when we’d fall asleep watching Good Times. 

I want to earn those times back. I mean it when I say I love you. I’ve always loved you, and no matter how many times I’d try to pick up chicks at the mall, I always belonged to you. 

I never knew if you could see how much I loved you. Or if you, like me, couldn’t see past your insecurities. I think I know now. I wish I could find more words to tell you. But I hope you feel it, baby. I need you to. 

I love you. I miss you. Write back soon. Your Sammy.”

He was quiet for a long while after that, and so was I. We sat together, in the silence, sorry for ourselves and all the time we’d lost. I’ve never been more grateful for anything than all the newfound time we’d have together. 

And all at once, I was out of my seat and holding on to, Sam, his arms wrapped around me, and he picked me up to place me on the counter. He stepped between my legs, and just held me, trying to get closer, as if we didn’t become one entity in that very second, we would be torn a part forever. 

It felt good. But more than that it felt right. And now that I had this again, I would never let go. Not ever. No. From now on, it was just gonna be me and Sammy. I loved him so much. And I could feel it in my very bones, just how much he loved me. We had a long road ahead of us, but with him by my side, I knew we’d make it. Just me and Sammy. Just Sammy, and I, and the Soda Pop Shop.

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

A/N: 

Hey guys! 

Been gone a super long time, probably a little over a year now. But I’ve been reading some fanfiction recently, I’m in a super positive and loving relationship, and overall, just got inspired and wanted to write again! Wrote this for myself really, just to get some creative juices out, and I’ve been sititng on it for a while. I have a feeling I’ll be writing more soon, and I’ll be sure to share. 

Also thanks to everyone who continued to read my work, even during my very lengthy absence, and like/reblog/comment. I promise I’ve seen them, and they have warmed my heart like nobody’s business. I love you all so much, and am so grateful. 

[wendip-week]

Prompt: Time-Travel

Prompt – Time Travel

It was another fine day in Gravity Falls. Squirrels were chasing each other, baby birds were chirping for food, and the local citizens went about their business, blissfully unaware of the rumored-weirdness that surrounded the valley.

In the town’s tourist-trap, the Mystery Shack, two young workers were sitting behind the register, looking bored. One was a short, scrawny pre-teen with shaggy, brown hair covered by a cap featuring a pine-tree. The other was a tall, lanky redheaded girl in flannel and sporting a trapper-hat. They were the best of friends (or partners-in-crime, depending on who you ask); and at that moment, they’d rather have been anywhere else.

“Ugh! Dipper! Why’s your uncle making us sit here? This place is half-dead! We’ve had, what? Sixteen customers all day, and maybe three of them wanted to buy something?” the girl said, laying across the counter.

“Yeah. Well, it’s Stan, Wendy. ‘Any potential sucker is basically a customer, and customers have money, so don’t miss an opportunity to get some!’”

“Nice one. But seriously, dude, I wish we could go on some adventure. Heck, I’ll take anything: scary or cheesy,” the girl said confidently.

“Really?” Dipper replied, looking at her. “You’d stoop to something out of our B-movie collection?”

Wendy paused, clearly giving this some thought. “Well…”

“The Crawling Deer-Demon-Duck is hiding in that condemned-house, Cassandara!” Dipper said in a low-baritone, his face pouting with mock-bravery. “What kind of brave seventeen-year-old slight bad-boy would I be if I didn’t go in there alone to try and stop it?”

Accepting his challenge, Wendy stood up. “Oh, Drewson! You can’t! It’s too dangerous!” she replied, adopting a terrible accent of a Southern-belle. She put the back-end of her hand on her forehead dramatically, while using her other to grab his sleeve. “I won’t let you go into that condemned house where the Deer-Demon-Duck is hiding!”

Dipper gently moved her hand away and faced her more directly. “But you have to let me!”

“Oh, Drewson!!!” Wendy lamented, now looking Dipper in the eyes.

“Cassandara…” Dipper did the same…

The two’s faces came closer and closer…

  Meanwhile, from two different ends of the Shack, a couple of thirteen-year-olds watched with interest. One, a fit-looking, freckle-faced girl with brown hair, stared with wide-eyes; she had her hands over her mouth as she barely suppressed a squeal. It was just too cute and hilarious! The other was a bulky young-man with copper hair. He just rolled his eyes and shook his head, chuckling.

  Wendy and Dipper’s faces were now inches from one another; neither breaking the act. Just as it seemed they were about make contact…

*FLASH!*

“Bwaaaahhh!!!” cried out a voice of pure-chaos.

…A white flash of light and a subsequent familiar-sounding snap caught them off-guard (and momentarily blinded the duo).

“Hey!” Dipper shouted.

“What the heck?!” Wendy replied, blinking to get her sight back.

“You guys! That was adorable!” Mabel, Dipper’s twin who sported braces, a homemade sweater, and thick, long brown cried out.

“Mabel?” said Wendy. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to hear all that!” the energetic girl told her friend while holding a photo-camera.

“W-We were imitating a scene from one of our movies!” Dipper replied quickly, his face suddenly a deep-red.

“Tomato-Potato! A smooch-scene’s a smooch-scene! Look!” Mabel told them, holding up an instant-photo. Looking closer, it featured Dipper and Wendy, inches apart and puckered up. “And I thought your only chest-hair was scrapbook-material, Dip!”

“Mabel, you better throw that away!” Dipper told his sister, while Wendy just shook her head, a hand covering her eyes.

“Nope! Scrapbook-ortunity!” Mabel opened her scrapbook and, finding a spot that was (relatively) empty, put the photo in. “Boom! Now, I just need some glue! Be right back!”

Mabel ran into the house to look around, leaving her brother and friend alone and little embarrassed.

Dipper looked at his redheaded crush. “Sorry, Wendy. She didn’t need to do that.”

“It’s whatever, dork. I mean, we were kind of cutting it close. That’s what happens when you play chicken.”

“Yeah… I’m gonna destroy it before she gets back,” Dipper said, reaching out for the scrapbook.

“No, don’t!” Wendy replied, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Wendy, you know she’ll show people. What’ll our friends think? I don’t want you to get embarrassed,” the younger Mystery-Twin said to the redhead.

“Thanks, but if everyone starts laughing, we can just say we’re great actors. After all, I’d pick you over the lead in that cheesy-film any day,” Wendy reassured Dipper, a gentle smile on her face.

Not knowing what to say, the blushing twelve-year-old just awkwardly chuckled.

“Hey!” shouted a gravelly-voice from inside the house. “Can somebody help me with this pimple on my back! I don’t need it bothering me on my next tour!”

Wendy turned to look at her dork, looking a little nonplussed. “…We should probably run before Stan singles us out.”

“To the roof, you think?” Dipper asked.

“Nah, I’m starved. Let’s hit Greasy’s. There’s a great lunch-special if we hurry.”

The nigh-inseparable duo quietly rushed off, leaving the gift-shop completely unattended. With that, the two customers slowly approached the counter, awkwardly looking around.

“Well, that was adorable and weird,” the girl told the boy around her age.

The large boy shrugged. “Definitely right on the latter.” He turned to face the girl. “How has your day been progressing?”

“Uh, fine I guess?” she replied, not used to hearing a greeting in such context. “How about yours?”

“Can’t complain. So… the gift-shop’s abandoned, it looks like,” the boy said, looking around.

“I guess so. Someone could steal something from here and no one would notice.”

“True. Looks like the rumors of this place sparing every expense were true,” the boy said with a chuckle. “Are you planning on stealing something?”

“No! Of course not!” the girl replied with a huff. As the boy looked away, she discreetly took a glance at the scrapbook left behind.

“Well, that’s good. Lots of punk-teens wouldn’t think twice about robbing this place blind,” he told her.

“Fair point,” The girl replied. She reached a small hand out. “I’m May, by the way.”

The other teen answered by clasping it with a meaty-looking hand of his own. “Cool. That’s my sister’s name. I’m Danny.”

For a second, the girl called May’s eyes widened, before narrowing suspiciously. Danny suddenly realized she wasn’t letting go of his hand.

“No, it isn’t,” she replied curtly. “My brother’s Danny!”

As she said that, the other teen frowned before his eyes mirrored the girl. They stared momentarily before pouncing. May attempted to pull “Danny” toward her. Danny, however, was ready. He spun and pulled the hand still clasping his behind the girl’s back. With her momentarily caught off-guard, he pushed her into one of the aisles. He quickly snatched the scrapbook from the counter before racing out the door. May, after stopping herself from hitting a wall, turned to see no scrapbook near the register. She immediately rushed outside to find the boy.

Behind the Mystery Shack, Danny was going rummaging the somewhat sticky-pages of the book he snatched, careful not let anything besides some glitter fall out from between. Finally, his eyes settled on his objective. He was just about to take it when-

“Hey, you!” Danny turned towards an angry-looking May, her fist punching her other palm. “That’s stealing! I don’t know who you are, but I’m not letting you have that!” she shouted.

“Please!” he replied. “As if you weren’t planning on it. I’m smarter than I look, you know!” he accused the girl, who gritted her teeth at his comeback. “And for your information, I’m me! And you’re not you!”

With that, the two of them raced towards each other. This time, however, May slid between the large boy’s legs and got behind him. Before he could react, she grabbed him underneath his shoulders. With him successfully in a headlock, May reached for the book in the redheaded boy’s hand. Realizing what she was trying to do, Danny swung back-and-forth, trying to make May let go of him.

Caught off-guard, the strong girl actually lost her grip on one of his arms for a minute, though she quickly regained it by getting her arm around his neck. However, this wasn’t enough. He reached behind, and this time, he got ahold of May’s shirt, enabling him to throw her off, despite her attempts to hold onto his head. (She even grabbed and stretched his mouth in the process).

She landed with a thud but was quick to get back on her feet. And May was immediately shocked by the sight before her. Next to this guy’s feet was the scrapbook of Mabel, apparently dropped when she made him throw her off. But on the other side of “Danny” laid what looked like a rubber-mask of his face. The head on his body now sported something else: a head that she could only describe as resembling an oversized pistachio, but with red-eyes and sharp teeth.

The creature posing as a human, realizing he was exposed, quickly grabbed his mask and slipped it back on with a growl. Now indiscernible from a human, he wagged what May assumed was a false finger, clearly ticked by that. He charged at her, only for her to roll out of the way. She tried a roundhouse-kick, only for the disguised teen to catch her foot. When May tried to break out, she lost her balance, enabling Danny to catch her from behind the same way she had him.

However, May was ready this time. As this guy grabbed her underneath her shoulders, May somersaulted backwards and caught Danny’s neck with her shoes. With all of her might, she used her legs to throw Danny forward, headfirst! He landed with a loud thud, giving May time to grab the book and escape.

Danny, checking to make sure his mask was straight, raced to catch up to May. He went around the side and rushing in the general direction she ran, saw her carefully moving around a large hole not too far from the Mystery Shack. Taking off a hand-shaped glove, he launched a vine-like appendage and grabbed May’s leg, tripping her and pulling her back. At the same time, she dropped the book near the edge of the long drop. Danny rushed forward and picked it up.

Of course, by this time, May was back on her feet. She charged with all he had and slammed her shoulder into the creature’s costumed-midsection, making him drop the book again. “OW!” They both shouted after May made contact.

Danny rubbed the spot where he got rammed with one hand and pushed her back with his other. He then looked at the pained girl strangely. “That was… You tackle just like May does; only weaker. Who are-? Hey, you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” May was clutching her shoulder, and as the boy could see more plainly, it didn’t look quite right.

“You’re hurt.” Before Danny could say more, the edge of the hole he was standing by gave way. He fell and, because he was still holding onto May, ended up pulling her in, too.

They both fell, screaming all the way down, only realize that they didn’t seem to be getting there anytime soon.

“Wait… I know what this is! We’re in the Bottomless Pit!” May said in realization.

“Oh, yeah! Haven’t seen the inside of this I was five…” Danny thought out loud.

“So you say!” May snapped. “Stop pretending already and tell me what the heck you are! Running into you is like crashing into a tree-trunk! What the heck?!”

Danny paused. “Okay, seeing as you look like you’re hurting, and I’m not, I’m going to call a truce. I’m willing to talk if you are, but I’d rather check your arm first. Is that cool with you?”

“Fine,” May grumbled, seeing no options at the moment. She was at a disadvantage, and if this monster could reach her, she’d be in trouble.

“Alright. Now, stay calm and try not to freak out.” Danny took a hand-shaped glove off and from where it was, slowly extended a vine in May’s direction. It gently went around the teenager’s midriff and pulled her towards him. It was plain to see she was suspicious. “Let me see…” Using his other hand, he poked May’s shoulder.

“Augh!” she grunted.

“Yeah… Looks like you dislocated your shoulder,” Danny assessed with a shudder. “You meatbags and your weird bodies.”

“MEATBAGS?! Look who’s talking!”

“Hey, it is basically what you are. You’re like, mostly water, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah…” May admitted awkwardly. “But that’s still rude.”

“Right. Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly. “Look, we can’t do anything until we come back up, so we might well as chat and find what the heck is going on here; maybe why you want that scrapbook so much.”

“You took it first,” May replied. “What about you? Also, would you mind letting go of me?”

“Can do.” Danny retracted his vine, allowing May to freefall on her own, then slipped his glove back on over his branch-like hand.

“Okay, so… who the heck are you? I’ve lived in Gravity Falls all of my life; I know that names being alike isn’t some coincidence.” May said.

“Agreed. I’m Danny Pines,” said the strange-teen. “And I’m assuming you’re May Pines.”

“Yeah. May Pines: daughter of Mason and Wendy Pines,” May stated proudly.

“Those are my parents’ names,” Danny replied, an eyebrow raised.

“Weird. My brother’s human, and he doesn’t look much like whatever that costume is you’re wearing. Are you being honest that you’re who you say you are?”

“Yes, I am,” Danny replied, starting to sound annoyed. “Look, I’m a plant-person, okay? So is most of the family, along with the half-the-town where I’m from. We wear disguises to blend in with humans… And what’s wrong with the way I look?”

“Well, for starters, my Danny’s not built like you. He’s muscular, but like the lean-kind. And he’s tall. You kind of have a build like my uncles on Mom’s side of the family. Plus, your face kind of looks like Aunt Mabel’s. He’s got more of one that looks kind of like Grandpa Dan,” May said thoughtfully.

“Huh. Go figure. I never actually wondered if my disguise was accurate… As for my height, I can safely tell you I’m taller than I look. I basically slouch in this costume,” Danny told her. “And my May’s costume doesn’t have you so good, either.”

“Really? Why?” May asked.

“Well, her mask has red-hair and no freckles. And your nose definitely isn’t Mom’s.”

“Oh. I always wondered how I’d look with red hair…” May thought out loud. “Uh, so… why the heck were you trying to take that book?”

“Why do you need it?”

May sighed in resignation. “Look, I’m looking for an anniversary-present for Mom and Dad. I remember Aunt Mabel told me about some cute picture in her scrapbook that went missing. It was that little scene with Mom and Dad from a little earlier. Apparently, it disappeared. It’d be a good gift, and I thought maybe it was me taking it after Blendin Blandin loaned me his Time-Tape that caused it disappear. Now, I’m wondering if it vanishes because you steal it.”

“What a coincidence. I was planning on getting that as an anniversary present for them, too. Well, my version of Mom and Dad.”

“Yeah… How’s that work again? I’m already assuming this is probably one of those Other-Dimension/Universe deals. Or maybe even another timeline,” asked May

“Really? How would that last one work? New timelines always replace old ones, right?” Danny replied.

“I don’t know. I don’t do this for a liv-Oh! We’re coming back up!”

About a minute later, the two thirteen-year-olds found themselves back outside the Bottomless Pit, not a minute gone by since they fell in. Immediately, they stepped away, quick to attend to more important matters. Well, besides the picture in Mabel’s scrapbook, anyway. (Danny quickly picked that up).

“Alright,” Danny said after making sure no one was around. “I’m not an expert, but I’ve been taught the basics of human-skeletons. We’ve gotta fix that arm.”

“Right. Uh, one sec.” May used her good arm to pull a coin-purse out of her pocket. From there, she pulled out a piece of wood with some bite-marks and stuck it in her mouth. “Do your worst.”

Danny put one hand on her forearm; the other on her shoulder. “This is gonna hurt. I’m going to count to five. Got it?” May nodded, and Danny counted. “One… Two… Five.”

A shrill, girly scream echoed through the valley. A scream rivaled only by those who were unfortunate enough to stick an appendage into the infamous “Pain Hole”.

“You okay?” Danny asked, concerned.

“Yeah,” May grunted, rolling her shoulder a couple of times. “This actually happens more often than you think. I’ll be fine in a couple of days.

“Well, I guess that’s one thing you humans have over us,” the boy said, shaking his head. “Your broken limbs don’t have to stay broken. We need to regrow ours. It’s pretty rough.”

“I guess… So, is your time like that lizard-people timeline or something? Dad and Aunt Mabel said something like that happened or was talked about when they were hunting for treasure one time.”

“I don’t remember either of them talking about that,” Danny said, shrugging. “All I know is that my version of Mom and Dad were turned into plants outside of Gravity Falls, and that there was time-travel involved. Come to think of it, I wonder if maybe Time-Wishes have something to do with this.”

May raised an eyebrow. “I don’t follow.”

“They’re paradox-free, but what if they don’t line up with the future. And they can’t be part of a time-loop, either. That’s another paradox. But splitting timelines might make for a good technicality, especially if they lead to the same futures or something.”

“…You read a lot of science-fiction, don’t you?” May deadpanned.

Danny shrugged. “When I’m camping. Yeah.”

“So… you think maybe we come from different branches and that this is a shared-moment in the past?”

“In a nutshell. No pun intended.”

May shrugged. “Anything’s possible. So, how are things in your timeline? Is the Shack still standing?”

“Yeah. Uncle Soos is doing a great job with it.”

“Nice! Does Arctica exist in in that time? Do you like-like her?” May asked in a sly voice.

“N-No! I mean, uh, yes… and no!” Danny replied quickly.

“Oh my gosh! I knew it!” May said, almost squealing. “Everyone knows! Me, our parents, our friends! Aunt Pacifica sure approves! So does-!”

“Wait! Pacifica… She’s alive in your time?” Danny asked, looking a bit shocked.

“Yeah. Is she not…? Oh, man! What happened?” May replied, looking very concerned.

“She just got sick. Last year, I think. That kind of thing’s one drawback to being human, I guess. Still, everyone was there, so I think she was comfortable, at least,” Danny told his sister from what might be an alternate-timeline.

“Shoot…” May thought out loud.

“Sorry to bring the mood down. So, does Chaz still try to keep his distance from you and your cooties?”

“As if! He’s just intimidated by my tackle!”

“Sure… No doubt that’s why he and Drake Jr. tried to discover a vaccine for them,” Danny said with a chuckle. “Dad thinks they might be onto rediscovering the Philosopher’s Stone instead.”

“So, Aunt Mabel married Uncle Drake in your timeline, too?”

“Yep.”

“Great… Two versions of our uncle to pass on his terrible driving skills two different versions of our cousin,” May said in exasperation.

“Don’t forget our siblings…” Danny added.

“Siblings? What siblings?” May asked.

“…You’re kidding, right?”

“No. Seriously, we have them? What are they like?” May said with interest. “Younger? Older?”

“All of the above. Dang. I wish I had my special phone-glove so I could show you pics. Too bad I didn’t want to accidentally leave it.”

“Shoot! Lucky!”

Danny laughed. “Keep telling yourself that.”

May smiled, then looked at her aunt’s scrapbook. “That photo’s still in there.”

Danny rummaged through it and found the page with said photo. The siblings from different timelines both stared, admiring the young versions of their parents doing that corny, mock-romance scene.

“What do you wanna do?” Danny asked her.

“I don’t know… I want it, but you’ve got as much right to snatch it as I do,” May replied. “I wish we both could take it with us.”

“You know, maybe we can,” Danny said after a minute.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t the Shack have a magic photocopy-machine in this time?”

“…And Mom and Dad are gone, so we might be able to pull this off!”

//

Meanwhile, Mabel was in her and Dipper’s room in the attic, which had basically been torn apart in a futile-search.

“Come on, Mabel!” The sweater-loving preteen said to herself. “Where’d you put that extra glue?”

//

The Mystery Twins of different timelines slipped through the currently-unguarded gift-shop of the Mystery Shack with ease, only to run into an elderly, bespectacled man in a fez, faded-white tee-shirt, and boxers in the living room, who was sitting on the couch, watching tv. The man turned to face them.

“Hey!” he said gruffly. “No exploring the house unless I’m leading a tour! Back to the gift-shop with you.”

Danny approached him, a hand behind his back. “No. Back to sleep with you.” Danny brought his concealed hand out from behind him, a large flower blooming from his wooden hand. He blew what looked like pollen into the old man’s face. The man was out in an instant, drooling all over himself.

May took the tv remote and flipped through a couple of channels. When she was satisfied, she abandoned the remote and joined Danny, though not before laying a soft kiss on the scary-looking man’s temple.

“Love you, Great-Grunkle Stan,” May whispered. She turned back to rubber-suited variation of her brother. “Let’s go.”

The two kids wandered down the hall towards the back, where they found a beaten, worn-out copy machine with words like “Danger” and other warnings on and around it.

“So… if I remember correctly, Dad said this’ll clone whatever you put into it,” May said. “It’s how Great Grunkle Stan made copies of the Journals that triangle-dude ruined.”

“Right,” Danny replied. “Seems straightforward. I think I’ll make two. This way, we don’t have to steal anything.”

“Sounds good. Let’s just remember not to get either wet.” May stepped out to check the living room.

//

Meanwhile, a heavy-set young man in a cap and a shirt with a big question-mark stepped into the living-room. “Hey, Mr. Pines. I just finished fixing-Oh, cool! You’ve got anime on!”

Soos Ramirez sat down on the couch, his gaze focused entirely on the tv-screen. He didn’t notice the teenage-girl peering around the corner, nor the bright and completely-noticeable flash from down the hall. He also didn’t notice two teens step back into the gift-shop, the boy holding three identical-copies of what looked like Mabel’s scrapbook.

//

In the Mystery Shack’s gift shop, May sat the scrapbook back down on the counter where she and Danny found it.

“Alright! Are we good to go?” May asked Danny.

“I think so. I made whole scrapbooks that we can maybe use for Aunt Mabel sometime. I bet she’d like to see her old pet-project again,” Danny replied.

“Great idea. You know, if it’s not us that steal the photo, I wonder what happens to this one.”

“Beats me. But no time to find out. Someone’s bound to come back any time now.” Danny said, handing one of the copies to May.

“You’re right… Hey, I’m sorry I kind of jumped you when we ran into each other. I thought maybe I violated some time-bureau thing and you were an agent or something,” May replied with sincerity as the two of them walked out of the entrance.

“That’s alright. No harm done. I’m sorry you hurt yourself trying to hurt me,” Danny replied to the girl.

“It’s fine,” May told her… sibling. “You know, it would be cool if we could hang, but with whatever this is, I don’t see how that’s possible any time soon.”

“You’re right,” Danny agreed, almost regretfully. “I don’t know how time-travel works, and I don’t Blendin’s inclined to tell someone who got the drop on him.”

“Huh?!”

“Nothing!”

The two stared at each other, not knowing what else to say. Finally, May broke the ice: “Awkward sibling-hug?”

The Mystery Twins embraced, awkwardly patting each other’s backs before separating.

“So, before we go our separate ways, can I ask you a weird question?” Danny asked sheepishly.

“Sure. What is it?” May responded.

“What’s like having a nose? A real one, I mean…”

//

Meanwhile, Mabel Pines had just come back downstairs. “I can’t believe I forgot I have one in my sweater’s inner pocket. What a silly-Mabel I am!” she said to herself, chuckling.

She stood by her scrapbook on the counter and tried to work the cap to the new glue-bottle off.

At the same time, a customer, who had come into the empty gift-shop just before the girl came down, went to approach Mabel and ask about getting rung up. Unfortunately, there was a snowglobe left on the floor by some child earlier that day. The man suddenly tripped on it and fell forward, only to stop himself by catching a fan. Said fan immediately started blowing on high, blasting Mabel’s hair all over her face and blowing a certain photograph into the yard, where an odd-looking goat caught in his mouth and ate it.

That was a dark day for Mabel Pines… who immediately planned to try to convince Dipper and Wendy to reenact that scene again.

//

The Pines twins from alternate futures faced each other, holding out their respective Time-Tapes (with the tape pulled out appropriately) and holding tightly onto their respective scrapbooks. The two got one last look at each other.

“Bye, Danny,” May said to her secret monster of a brother. “I love you, and I hope Mom and Dad like your gift.”

“Likewise, May,” Danny said, looking a bit sad. I wish you could see the others… I’d have liked to see their reactions meeting you.”

May gave him a soft smile. “Hey, I got to meet you, at least.” Danny smiled in response.

The Mystery Twins let the tape on their devices retract. There was a flash of light, and it was like they had never been there.

[bloodsweatandpotato]

Whumpay day 25

Goodbye

Fandom: DHMIS

Characters: Robin (duck guy), Manny (yellow guy), Harry (red guy).

Tw: Gore, body horror, character death (they come back later but not in this oneshot)

Summary: Everyone has to say goodbye at some point. For the puppet trio, goodbyes are painful, very painful... This really isn’t as bad as the trigger warnings make it sound.

The stabbing agony was what brought him out of his slumber in the first place, but it wasn’t that bad now. It had lowered to a almost bearable throbbing, and Robin fuzzily mused that the pain fading wasn’t a good thing.

But it still hurt so much, and as the blood pooled on the floor below him and the feeling of tugging and ripping stabbed through his insides, Robin couldn’t help but think that it would be better if he died now.

Better if it all faded away, and his insides were burned or dissolved or disintegrated and the ashes spread across the world so that the teachers couldn’t put him back together again.

Better if he just closed his eyes.

Robin’s head was pushed to the side by the can (for some reason this one hadn’t turned humanoid), and the glow of the screen beside him pulled in his unfocused gaze.

The pain was still there, and the edges of his vision had long since gone dark, but the sight of Manny brought Robin out of his agony. The sight of that little boy in the overalls with tear tracks down his face and pastel bandaids covering his body gave Robin just enough coherence to whisper one last word.

One last word to the world, to Manny, to the gap in the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite remember but knew was red and tall and like home.

“Goodbye...” Voice rasping, blood spilling from his mouth with each agonizing breath, Robin spoke.

The cold, stabbing pain of being torn apart didn’t even seem to be real now, didn’t seem to be happening to him.

Somebody else was on the metal table, and Robin didn’t feel the need to watch somebody die who wasn’t him.

Robin stopped fighting the darkness, and despite the hot blood covering his opened chest, the last thing he felt was the cold.

###

Harry’s fingers curled around the doorknob, and as he punched it open, the world shifted, and there was monotone words and lines and sentences they had spoken before. A duck and a mop and a balloon and Harry realized none of this was real.

None of this was real. The smell of antiseptic and the feel of leather straps around his wrists and somebody was saying something, angry, frustrated. It didn’t make sense, he wasn’t tied down, wasn’t hooked up to the beeping of the heart monitor he heard ringing in his ears.

Roy?

“What?” Harry murmured, tugging at the sensors stuck on his body, and suddenly a sharp, blinding pain ripped through his head, slicing at his neck.

Harry would have cried out, but confetti poured from his open mouth instead, pieces of colored paper drifting to the floor, cutting at his lips. The pressure in his head grew unbearable and suddenly he knew no more and there was only pain and white light.

His knees hit the floor as the world faded away and he had one last thought before his mind slipped away.

“Goodbye Manny, Robin...”

And he knew no more.

###

Manny lay in bed, hands smoothing the pages of his scrapbook. Pictures and stickers and pieces of tape lay scattered on the pages, and he felt a deep sadness well up inside him.

Eyes burning with unshed tears, Manny struggled to remember what had happened to his friends... his family.

There had been something before June 19th, he was sure of it, but Manny wished he could remember what.

“Goodbye...” He whispered.

Manny flipped through another page, tears flowing freely now.

He looked around the room, eyes landing on Harry and Robin’s beds.

“Goodnight guys.”

He flicked off the light.

[occasionallyish--archive]

Just had a dream that Hobo Johnson came to my school to perform a couple of his songs and in this dream when he got up on an auditorium stage and my immediate thought was "I need to take this to Tumblr because OH MY GOD HOBO JOHNSON HERE??? PLEASSSEEE"

And I'm like "I'm gonna tell people he went to my school. But Ion wanna give up my location! So I'm gonna ask if he's doing any other shows and ask whether or not all these locations are public information, that way if people did get snoopy about where I live there'd be a bit of a broader list of places to skepticize"

So at some point after the show– The last song he played was 3% but I don't really remember what else he played–, I approach Hobo Johnson asking about the shows and all that, and he kinda just snatches the person sitting next to me's laptop to be like "Yeah, info's online somewhere, lemme pull it up." For some reason, we end up sitting at a balcony, and the laptop do be gone. We get to talking– About the pile of books I keep for some reason incessantly pulling around, about his music, about me. At some point he looks at me and he says, "Well, we're both just a couple of black sheep, huh?" And I'm like. "Well, I mean. I guess?"

We talk for a little bit more after that, and then it's time for him to leave. He reaches over and messes with my hair before he says, "You're a good kid, Shayne." And disappears... In his place is a filled-to-the-brim journal sitting on the railing of the balcony, left open. I didn't really notice until after I grabbed it– Because some weird narrator voice sounding like LIS Max Caulfield's inner thoughts pointed it out for me(this is important for later)– but there were a bunch of pink pressed flowers scattered on the railing around it.

I don't flip through or anything, but on the pages it's left open on there is a bunch of scribbled writing, and then a big purple heart and a big red heart– Both were made of sequins. For some reason, I assumed that this book was like a journal, and that it outlined his music and what it meant and like the process in writing it. So yeah now I have it in my hands with a bunch of my other books, and I can't remember if they were under it or just sitting nearby but at some point there was a pile of indiscernable black-and-white photographs and for some reason I chose to grab them.

And then comes the walk home. I don't remember this part as vividly as the others, but I think the world became a shadow realm and I think I was haunted. I would randomly find more photographs– One had a censor bar over somebody's eyes, except when I picked it up said censor bar stretched out past the photo and just like extended half a foot out on its own. I was terrified. Other strange occurences were I would sometimes set my pile of books down, look away, and when I looked back they were laid flat. One time this happened and there were NEW PHOTOGRAPHS on tops of the books. I was shaking in my boots.

I don't really remember what happened between then and the next part, but suddenly I'm met with a "GAME OVER" screen and now I realize I was just. Playing a video game? So I go back to my latest save point, which takes me to when I first got Hobo Johnson's weird scrapbook thing. Except this time I kinda just sit there, not really knowing whether I wanna grab it this time.

So, I pause the game and I go to an even earlier save point, and suddenly I'm PLAYING LIFE IS STRANGE??? Except this isn't a scene from the game itself.

I'm playing as LIS Max Caulfield in third person and it's night time and she's running beside all these bleak concrete buildings. She looks back and SHE'S BEING CHASED BY LIS TRUE COLORS ALEX CHEN???? Who by the way keeps making evil faces and says evil things and being a villain I guess.

So I have LIS Max Caulfield keep running, until she gets to supposely the building she was trying to get to. She rounds the corner and she slips on these I guess slippery round rocks and she's now on the ground, but she's safe?? The door to the building opens and inside is LIS Chloe Price and then the camera pans over because this is now a cut scene! So anyway the camera pans over to LIS Max Caulfield and suddenly she's holding this huge bag of rice. Huge.

So LIS Chloe Price helps her stand up and then pulls her inside the building and I'm back to the first person pov. They talk a bit, and then I wake up.

That was prolly the most vivid dream I've had yet,,,, Also the boldest. Like,,,, Hobo Johnson, Life Is Strange, LIS True Colors horror-centric cross-over? Crazy. I am never going to forget how Hobo Johnson looked when he called us black sheep. Also always going to remember how he called me a good kid. Literally I look up to this guy so much already lol.

Anyway what was this whole thing supposed to mean

[mystewion]

are gay people real

in short:

South Park Elementary School Cafeteria, day. The kids are seated for lunch. At the center table are Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Token, Clyde and Craig. Cartman runs in from the hallwayCartmanFELLAS! Fellas!StanWhat?CartmanYou'll never guess what happened. Butters just beat up Scott Malkinson!KyleButters? [He and Stan look puzzled] Why?CartmanIt was crazy! Scott was just talking about how he needed to take his insulin shot, and out of nowhere Butters said he's sick of people with diabetes feeling sorry for themselves. Scott told Butters to shut up and Butters just started whaling on him!StanYou're talking about Butters.CartmanDude, I'm telling you! Butters beat the crap out of Scott, and then he locked himself in the bathroom! [The other boys get concerned and leave their tables to go to the restroom]The restroom around the corner from the cafeteria. Jimmy has joined the boys. Stan bangs on the doorStanButters?ButtersLeave me alone!StanButters, come out here.ButtersGet out of here, all of ya! [Stan turns to the other boys and shrugs]KyleButters, people can't just go around beating up people who have diabetes! Now whatever your problem is, you just-Butters[Runs out of the restroom up to Kyle and points at him] You just think you know everything, don't you Kyle?! Every little thing you gotta shoot your mouth off like you're the frickin' expert! Well you don't know everything because [walks to Stan and points him out] your best friend is a kid who thinks the entire planet revolves around him and he only cares about HIS image! [runs back inside the boys room, then turns around and runs to Cartman] You guys think Cartman is the only selfish piece of crap in this school? You're all fake and stuck up [moves over to Jimmy], and none of you have the courage to tell Jimmy that his jokes aren't funny! [moves over to Kenny] The only kid here with any sense of dignity is Kenny, and the rest of you have your heads up your butts! [Runs back into the restroom and locks himself in. The other boys are stunned and silent]CartmanWell. Apparently Kenny is Butters' best friend. You guys gonna make out, Kenny? [Kenny flashes an angry look]Butters[Runs out of the restroom again and storms up to Cartman] And that's another thing! You're always trivializing everything I say by gettin' the last word! [Cartman looks stunned]Well you're not gettin' the last word this time! [Runs back into the boys restroom and locks himself in]Cartman...Wow.Butters[Opens the door and peeks out] Double wow! [Closes the door and locks it]The principal's office, Day. Principal Victoria is talking to Butters and his parents.Principal VictoriaI'm sorry, but your son is distracting the other students and his attitude is just getting worse.StephenButters, what on earth has gotten into you?!Butters[In a gruff voice] I don't know, Dad, ah I was just pissed off, I guess!LindaDo you think this behavior is fair to your teacher and classmates?!ButtersI don't suppose it is, but I don't give a darn!StephenDo you have any idea how grounded you are about to be, mister?!ButtersWhy don't you shut up, Dad, and stick it in your ear, for cryin' out loud! [Both parents look taken aback as a moment of silence follows]Linda[looks at Stephen] Stephen, are you thinking what I'm thinking?StephenYes. Our little Butters is flowering. He has reached the age of panua.Principal VictoriaEh-excuse me?StephenPrincipal Victoria, this isn't Butters' fault.ButtersIt's not?!StephenIt has to do with... biology. [turns right and walks off a bit] You've... maybe noticed that Butters isn't... exactly like other kids.ButtersYeah?StephenYou probably think Butters seems somehow... different.Butters[normal voice] Hey yeah, all the time.StephenIt's because he is. [Turns around and faces Principal Victoria] His mother and I... his whole family were... we're not of this place.Principal VictoriaAh I'm sorry, I really don't understand.StephenPlease, just try to understand that for our people it's a very private matter. He can't be helped by your discipline; this must be dealt with by his own kind. If it's all right with you, we'd like an extended leave for our boy. Please. It's a cultural thing.The Stotch house, day. Stephen and Linda argue as Butters sits on the couchLindaI don't want him to go, Stephen, he's too young!StephenIt's our people's way, Linda, you know that better than I do!LindaThen we can go with him.StephenYou know that's not allowed!ButtersWill somebody tell me what the frickity fookshmere is goin' on?!StephenButters, you've reached the age where you must journey to your birthplace for the ceremony of hapa noa.ButtersUhbu-but I'm from here.StephenNo. We moved here just before you started pre-school. You were born in our native land, Butters. [Walks to a bookshelf and grabs a scrapbook] A distant and very secluded island world called... Hava'i.ButtersWe're from Hawaii?Stephen[Sits on the sofa next to Butters. Linda sits to his left] Only haoles pronounce it Hawaii, Butters, but those of us from Hava'i are a very special people. We have many customs and traditions to keep our culture alive. [Opens the book and points some pictures out to him] We drink chi-chi's from the coconut. We eat poke that the Safeway provides. And when we've chosen a mate, we marry at the fern grotto, as your mother and I did so... very long ago. As a Stotch, Butters, you are actually Hawaiian royalty. Your grandma and grandpa were there at the time of the King. [Flips backwards a few pages and shows him a picture of Elvis Presley playing a ukulele with a picture of Diamondhead in the background.]ButtersBut what does being Hawaiian have to do with me acting like an emo chick on her period?StephenNot an emo chick on her period, Butters. Like a salmon needing to swim back upriver. All Hawaiians feel it. It is called "hapahui apahoha", and it means it's now your time to make your trip to our island home. You must do your walkabout to your homeland, Butters. And you must do it alone. [Linda stands up and starts crying. Stephen stands up and takes out his wallet] Take this, son. It is our Mahalo Rewards card. It will provide you with all you need. And now I must turn my back on you. [He turns his back to Butters. Linda weeps silently. Butters is speechless]The neighborhood park, day. The boys from the table are playing basketball, and Jimmy joins in. Kenny tosses the basketball at Kyle, who makes a shot, and Cartman runs up to them from the sidewalk. Stan catches the ballCartmanHoly shit balls! Holy shit balls! Guess what, you guys? Holy shit balls. [The other boys gather around him]KyleWhat?CartmanButters just got on a bus with his backpack and said he's going to Hawaii.StanHawaii?CartmanHe said he had to go back to his homeland, and then told me it was none of my business and to keep my fat mouth shut.KyleDude, what the hell? Somebody's gotta stop him.Stan[Turns to the basket] After all the things he said to us, he can go ahead. [Makes a shot at close range]KyleKenny, you're clearly his best friend. Go stop him.Kenny(I'm not his best friend.)CartmanYeah, Mr. Perfect, go rescue Butters so he can lick your balls some more. [Kenny sighs and walks away with his head down.]The airport, day. Kenny arrives and walks into the Alpha Air terminal. He sees Butters seated on a seat in an empty row, with two suitcases at his feet. He's sobbing. Kenny walks overKenny(Butters, come on.)ButtersThey won't let me on the plane. Why, I can't do anything right! [Kenny takes one suitcase and Butters' right hand, Butters takes the other suitcase, and they walk. Suddenly Butters stops and pulls his hand away] No, no! I have to go to Hawaii, Kenny! I have no idea what's waiting there for me, but I guh, I can't go on like this! [Kenny sighs, then takes Butters to the teller]Kenny(Excuse me, he needs to go to Hawaii.)TellerI already told him, I can't allow anyone on the aircraft who appears to be intoxicated.ButtersI'm not intoxicated, you skank! I'm just "deligerent" because of my hapanuanalua!Kenny(Please, could you just let him on the plane? It's really important. Please?)TellerTell you what: there's plenty of points on his Mahalo Rewards card. If you wanna fly with him, I can let him go.Kenny(Me?)ButtersCan't you see I'm in horrible pain?! Do you have any idea what-?!Kenny[Puts his hand over Butters mouth to shut him up] (Okay, okay! I'll go.) [Scene cuts to the plane flying towards Hawaii]Lihu'e Airport, Kaua'i, Runway B-5. The plane lands and Butters and Kenny enter the terminal. Butters has picked up his bagsButters[Slowly, as he looks around] Well, we're here, now what do I do? [Kenny points to the information officer nearby, and they walk to him]OfficerCan I help you with anything?ButtersUh yeah, I uh, I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go?OfficerOkay, were you with a cruise ship or land tour group?ButtersOh, ah, I'm not a tourist. I'm a native Hawaiian. [The officer just looks at him. A group of Americans approaches him]Blond ManButters Stotch?ButtersYeah?Blond ManWelcome home, young keiki. Your parents said you would be coming for your ceremony. [Notices Kenny] Ah- uh, who's this?ButtersOh thi-this is my friend, Kenny.Older WomanButters, native Hawaiians don't really approve of haoles coming to their ceremonies.ButtersOh please, i-if it weren't for him I couldn't have come.Blond ManVery well, we shall speak with the chief of our island and see. Come now. [Everyone leaves]En route to the chief, day. They go down the road, all packed into an SUV.ButtersYou folks are all native Hawaiians too?Older Man[Driving] Yes. My wife Patty and I have been coming to Kaua'i for almost five years, and Bill and Donna actually own a time share in Poipu.DonnaYes, but Poipu is getting pretty overrun with tourists, I'm afraid.Blond Man[Leans to the right, behind the older man] Let us eat.Older ManOh yea, let us eat. [They stop at Kuwahara Saimin's drive-through] Aloha, five order of saimin, please.ButtersWhat's "saimin"?PattyIt's one of the foods of our people.Older ManOh, I get 20% off, I'm a native. Here's my Mahalo Rewards card. [The cashier notes the card and takes the cash, the older man takes the food, and they're off.] Mahalo. [They soon find themselves behind a slow car with the passenger taking pictures of the scenery. The older man honks.] Come on, you frickin' tourist! Jesus, buy a post card! [Stops and points out a building] These are the ancient ruins of our ancestors. [It's the Coco Palms, long abandoned.] They say the spirit of the king is still in there.Blond ManYou must stay away from this place. It is kapu.Brunet ManKapu. that means "taboo", [points to Kenny] especially to haoles! [they drive off]Older ManUh that there is Bubba's Burgers. [Scene shows Bubba's Burgers] In Havai'i us natives say "Bubba's Bruk". [they pass by a big hotel] Here's the Sheraton, just another megahotel for the throngs of tourists. Here's where many of us natives live. The Sheraton Residences. [A gated community is shown. The Older Man flashes his Mahalo Rewards card to the guard] It's all right, we're natives. [The guard opens the gate and lets them in. They arrive at the chief's residence and step out to talk to him] Protector and Chief, I present to you the keiki, Butters Stotch.ChiefAh, Stephen and Linda's child. Last time I saw you, you were the size of a coconut. Who's the haole?Kenny's room at the Residences, night. He sits by the open window with a lit candle, a pencil and a sheet of paper. He begins to write.KennyMy dearest friends,:I am living amongst the natives in the remote and tiny island of Kava'i. What can I tell you of this mysterious island and its people? It is a place of wonder, and yet to the outsider like me, a place of odd tradition. The people here are peaceful and joyous, and seem to care little for the rush and worry of the outside world. Their diet is mostly an odd mixture of coconut milk, pineapple juice, and vodka, which they call the chi-chi. As for Butters, he is quickly learning the ways of his ancestors, and seems to be feeling better with every passing day. He still seems quite angry at times, but luckily his ceremony will finally take place on the morrow.As he writes, the following scenes are shown: First, the Safeway supermarket. The people greet each other with a fist, with pinky and thumb extended. Next, three kids are playing in a pool while Donna enjoys her chi-chi and the older couple sit on chaise longues in the background. Next, Kenny is at the bar order a chi-chi. Next, Butters learns how to play bocce ball. Next, Stan reads the letter to Cartman and KyleStan[reading the letter] "On the morrow"? What the fuck is wrong with Kenny?KennyTo wit, I have found nothing wrong with this remote place, and I must admit it will be with some melancholy that I will leave this island and return home.

I saw this chick in a bikini on the beach too. She had the nicest boobs ever. Humbly yours, Kenneth.

A luau, day. All the natives are in line for lunch before the ceremony begins. Butters stands on a platform before the chief while Kenny watches onChiefIn the time-honored traditions of our ancestors, we honor the native Hawaiian Butters Stotch with his hapa noa. [everyone cheers and and woman slips a necklace onto his neck] The shark-tooth necklace represents your connection to our island. [a horn blower comes in with a conch shell and blows into it... badly] Now drink the chi-chi! [Patty walks over with a glass of it and gives it to Butters, who begins to drink it through a straw.]Butters[turns right and coughs, then] Whoa, it's like gasoline!ChiefDrink, young keiki, and you will feel the last of your aggression melt away.Butters[Finishes the rest of the drink, then stumbles just a little bit and smiles] Hey, uh now I do feel butter, uh better.ChiefO spirits of ancestors, we ask that you bless this native Hawaiian with his hapa noa! We ask that you-Blond Man[runs in] Listen! [climbs onto a table] Listen everyone! I have terrible, horrible news!ChiefDo you realize that you are interrupting a hapa noa?Blond ManI've just come from the front office! The Mahalo Rewards card is... [chokes]ChiefWhat?! What has happened? Speak!Blond ManThe Mahalo Rewards card is being eliminated! They're trying to say our points are... are... no longer going to be accepted.Chief[Rises from his chair and walks to his left] I knew one day it would come to this.PattyTo what? What does this mean?ChiefThe haoles are trying to do away with us.Resident 1With no rewards program, there will be no distinction between who's a native to this island and who isn't!Resident 2Why can't you people respect our island? Why do you always want nore?!ChiefI'm sorry keiki, your hapa noa will have to wait! For we must unite together as never before! It is time to show the haoles that this is our island! [this draws cheers from everyone]A seaside golf course, day. A cruise ship is some distance from the shore when it blows its horn. A group of natives stand by their golf ballsChief[Yelling at the ship] Stop ruining our island, haoles! FIRE! [The natives fire away into the ocean. Some of the golf balls land in the water, some of them reach the ship]First MateWhat are they doing? [The passengers are being pelted with golf balls.]Chief[Walks over to Butters and gives him a club] Take a swing! Let them know they are not welcome!ButtersI've never done this before. [Gets into position]ChiefIt's all right. Just try to tap into that anger that's inside you.ButtersAim... my anger! Stupid [Swings successfully] Ben Affleck! [The golf ball sails through the air and enters the bridge, smashing through the window and the captain's binoculars. The first mate shrieks] Waaah! [The captain stumbles onto a controller and breaks it with sheer momentum. The ship begins to pitch back and sink. Passengers begin to tumble towards the water. Butters is dumbfounded. The ship breaks in two]ManHold on! [The golf club just falls out of Butters' left hand] Hold on!WomanOh I can't! I can't! I can't hold on!ManI love you! I love you!WomanNo! I love you! I love you back! [The ship vanishes below the water]Breaking NewsAnnouncerThis is breaking news!AnchorAn insurrection in the Hawaiian Islands has escalated to war! After sinking a cruise ship, the natives of Kauai continue to go berserk, forcing all tourists off their island.Man 1They just pushed us onto airplanes and said we weren't welcome anymore!Woman 1Then a little boy called me a skank.Anchor[A picture of Barack Obama appears over his shoulder] The President says he will send the Coast Guard to take the island back, though he sympathizes, being a native Hawaiian himself. [Thinks about it for a second] Hm.The ceremonial plaza, day.ChiefAre all the tourists gone from our island?Resident 3All but a few who are hiding out at Duke's Restaurant. We sent Bob and Trisha Turner to smoke them out.Resident 4What about him?Kenny(What about me?)Resident 4He's a tourist and he knows everything! We have to kill him!Butters[Jumps in front of Kenny to shield him] No! Kenny's my friend! He's the only kid at school I actually like, you buncha jerks!ChiefBe careful young keiki, your anger still controls you because we were not able to finish the ceremony. Perhaps we should finish it now.Resident 4Finish his ceremony?! We are at war, David! I have lived on this island for ten years. Ten years! Every July and part of August! And I can tell you all that what we are about to face from the haoles is nothing short of genocide!Resident 5He's right, David. We can't trust any tourists.ButtersHe won't betray us! Will you, Kenny?!Kenny(No, I'm not going to fucking betray anybody!)Resident 6Then let him prove himself! Trial by opahika'a!Chief DavidHe's only a child!Resident 4If he wants to be one of us, then he must face the challenge!Chief DavidVery well. [The horn blower, Resident 5, returns to blow the conch shell]On the bank of a river flowing by the Residences, day. David and Butters are there with the rest of the residents in the background, and Kenny is...Blond ManThis isn't right! He's not a native! He's gonna get killed!ButtersKenny, be careful!Chief DavidQuiet. He must face this challenge alone. [Kenny is on a surfboard on the river using a small paddle to get somewhere]Resident 1By the gods! Perhaps he has the heart of a native after all!Resident 4He still has yet to make the turn! [Kenny reaches a buoy in the middle of the river and paddles around it, then makes his way back to the riverbank.]ResidentsHohhh!Resident 7[A little tipsy from his drink] That's pretty good. [Kenny slows down, then loses his balance and falls into the river]Kenny(Whoops!)ButtersKenny!ResidentsAwwwww. [A second later they all turn away and leave. Butters stays at the riverbank.]Resident 4[To another Resident] I told you a haole couldn't do it!Chief DavidDid you make the turn your first try? Did any of us? [Kenny pops up behind them and floats down the river]Resident 8[A woman, walks up to Butters] Don't worry, Butters, your friend will find a way back to his kind. The gods will protect him. [She extends her left hand and guides him away]Kenny looks downriver and sees a waterfall. He panics and quickly dog paddles away from it, but the current overwhelms him and he goes over. He bumps into several rocks, each bigger than the last, on his way down, head firstSmith's Tropical Paradise, day. David has assembled the residents into this building and now talks to themChief DavidWe have called for this great meeting because if we are to survive this war, all the native Hawaiian tribes must join as one!Resident 9We're not joining the people of the Hyatt Grand Vacations! They have no rights to call themselves natives!Vacationer 1Oh and you do?! Your ancestors came on an airplane six months ago! Our ancestors sailed here! On a cruise ship! Nine months ago!Chief DavidLook, if we are to fight the haoles, we have to allow all natives to stay!CanyonerIt doesn't matter how many tribes we have, we can't win! We are but a few against the haole's military might! We may have passion, but passion does not win wars!Chief DavidOh no? Come up here, keiki. Come on. [Butters gets on stage with David] This child sunk a cruise ship by himself! Tell them keiki. [Hands the mic to Butters]ButtersWell I don't know about the rest of ya, but I'm sick and tired of bein' pushed around all the time! I came all the way down here for my hapa noa ceremony, and I can't even have it, 'cause the fucking haoles have to ruin everything!Resident 9Yeah!Vacationer 1Screw them!ButtersWell if you ask me, the only good haole is a dead haole! With a, with a stick up his butthole, and his wiener cut off! Rraahhhh!Chief DavidLet us make a pact with more chi-chis!Resident 10[goes to serve himself some more chi-chi from the barrels, but finds there isn't any] Um, we're... we're out of chi-chis.Resident 11Oh, right, we've closed off all the ports.Resident 12But they're still letting vodka through, right? Uh... they can't cut off our chi-chis.Chief David...Oh my God.Downriver, day. Kenny crawls onto the riverbank, coughs, and looks up. He's across the road from Coco Palms. He stands up and walks towards it. He looks around and heads in, but first waits for a bunch of bats to fly out of the cavernous entrance. Meanwhile, offshore, the U.S. Coast Guard shows up in force to deal with the nativesCaptainThis is the U.S. Coast Guard! We have instructions to take you by force, if necessary!Chief David[heading up a large group of natives] Ready? Fire! [the natives fire off their golf balls, but none of them have any effect on the Coast Guard]Captain[Lowers his binoculars, then flatly] Fire. [The ships' guns fire away and decimate many of the natives]Chief DavidArm the bocce balls! [Surviving natives arm bocce balls into slingshots stretched between palm trees. One of them lands on the main ship with a heavy thud]CaptainGod damn it.Chief DavidKeep fighting! Stand your ground!Resident 4We can't fight without chi-chis!Chief DavidYou can and you MUST!Butters[He has six golf balls in front of him and he hits each one towards the Coast Guard] Stupid! Greedy! Haoles! Kill! Them! All!Kenny walks through the Coco Palms, which is dark and spooky. A voice is soon heard, and Kenny stops in his tracks. He turns and runs away, but steps onto a patch covering a hole on the floor and falls in. He recovers and looks up to see the shining ghost of Elvis Presley. He beckons Kenny to follow him, mumbling just like Kenny does.The KingCome on, come on. [Mumbles a few more things as they walk towards a door. Elvis stops and pulls a lever, and a wall rises to reveal loads of absolute vodka, pineapple juice, coconut milk, and macadamia nut liqueur, all the ingredients needed for chi-chis. Elvis walks up to the doorway and motions to Kenny] You know what chi-chis are, right?The Residences, day, on the ceremonial plaza, Chief David admits defeatChief DavidListen everyone, we gave it all we had. It's over. We must go down to Nowiliwili Harbor, and surrender to the American government.Butters[Runs onto the plaza] Surrender?! No, the heck with that!Resident 4We can't hold out here any longer!ButtersWell I won't do it, you hear me?! I'm not licking anybody's... testes!Chief DavidYoung keiki, try to control your anger.ButtersNo! This is our home! And I'm sick of everyone who thinks they're better than me just 'cause they've got good looks, and just 'cause, even after massacring Daredevil, they happen to come back and hit a home run that everyone likes! You shouldn't be able to be good-looking and be with Jennifer Lopez and be a good director! [Turns around and walks away] All right all right fine! Argo is a good movie! There, I admitted it! I told people that it didn't hold up, but it holds up god darn it! Ben Affleck has everything, GRAGH!Resident 13Everyone! Look, I say! [Everyone comes to see, and it's Kenny coming back with a raft full of absolute vodka, pineapple juice, coconut milk, and macadamia nut liqueur. Everyone cheers him on]Resident 14The haole did it!KennyMy dear friends of the mainland,:What adventures I have found on the tiny island of Kava'i. I have truly become one with the natives, who found new courage to fight their oppressors.Chief DavidWe are not surrendering today! Go back and tell your leaders that we will fight them until the end! [Everyone cheers]CaptainYou people just don't give up, do ya?KennyThe American government finally gave in to the natives and had the Mahalo Rewards cards reinstated. Our two cultures, it appears, will once again live in peace.Everyone cheers, even the Coast Guard captainKennyWith the war at an end, our Butters is able to have his hapa noa ceremony. And with any help from the gods, become his old cheery self again.The hapa noa ceremony, day. Butters will finally become a full-fledged member of his tribeChief DavidAnd so it is with great honor that we recognize these two natives with their hapa noa. Take your cards, boys. [Two women come up and give them their cards] Apuiloa hapnanoaha! Hapa'a'a hohaaa! [Resident 5 returns to blow the conch shell a third time.] It's finally over, young keiki. Is your anger at rest?Butters[He thinks for a moment] Yeah, I guess so. Except it still doesn't change the fact that Ben Affleck gets to be handsome, talented, and then gets to go home and kiss Jennifer Lopez.Resident 15Ben Affleck isn't with Jennifer Lopez anymore, he's married to Jennifer Gardner.ResidentsYeah, it's true, uh huh.ButtersWhat? Really? But I thought I was totally jealous of him. He's just married to Jennifer Gardner? Oh my God, I feel so much better. [smiles with relief]Kenny(You do?)ButtersYeah, ogh, I like that Ben Affleck guy. He's a good filmmaker. Come on, Kenny, I guess I owe the kids at school an apology. [He and Kenny walk off into the sunset] Did you see Argo, Kenny? It's a pretty good movie. Ben Affleck has a lot goin' for him. Not everything, but a lot. Whoopie!