#much hooting in the car at that sign

[carpe-mamilia]

Went to the RSC's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream starring Mat Baynton as Bottom this evening. As we crossed into Warwickshire a road sign that was clearly not quite high enough off the ground welcomed us to Shakespeare's cunty, and that was foreshadowing because the show SERVED

[reminiscingtonight]

Prior Engagements

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

[WOSO Masterlist]

This is a bad idea. 

This is a really bone-headed, captain-title-revoked worthy, bad idea.

Slightly buzzed, Alexia stands staring at the door in front of her. In one hand is a bottle of wine, the other a container of food. Chicken Alfredo, she reminds herself. Your favorite pasta dish. 

The day had started out like any other. Alexia woke up in time to see the sun rise, got a quick workout in before practice started later in the day. The coffee she picked up on her way to the training grounds filled her car with a sweet aroma, something only outshined by the beaming grin on your face when she handed you your coffee minutes later. Ignoring the hoots and hollers of her teammates, Alexia couldn’t take her eyes off you the entire training session. 

It’s been like this since you transferred to the club. From day one of your signing, Alexia hasn’t been able to stay too far away from you. You brought an air of confidence from the moment you stepped onto the field. All of the Barcelona players were attracted to it, your cool demeanor making you pop to the top of everyone’s list, Alexia not excluded. 

While she enjoyed all the excitement new people bring to the team, your outgoing persona is honestly a bit intimidating to her, the Spanish midfielder always stumbling over her words when in your presence. 

Mapi’s the first to pick up on her crush. After being caught watching you one too many times, Alexia had to start perfecting what she dubs the ‘never being in the same room as Mapi and (Y/N) at the same time’ move. Her best friend held up to her title, making sure to tease Alexia to hell whenever you were nearby, hence the necessity of such evasion tactics. 

And, of course, the events of tonight all started with the one and only Mapi León. 

It all began after practice ended. Everyone was still milling about the locker room when Mapi brought up the idea of going out for a group dinner. There’s a quick buzz around the room as most of the girls start agreeing. 

It’s subconscious, the way Alexia’s eyes drift to you. Your head’s buried in your bag as you shuffle around, not agreeing nor backing out of the dinner plans. At least not until Mapi gives you a gentle nudge. When you lift your eyes, Mapi’s tilting her head at you, a silent question in her gaze. 

Alexia deflates when you shake your head. “Sorry, I’d love to go out but I have some prior engagements I can’t get out of.”

When you leave minutes later, the locker room instantly dissolved into hushed giggles and speculations of which lucky girl you were off to go meet or which party you were heading to. It’s common knowledge among the girls of your late night adventures. Eight times out of ten you’re dropping out of whatever group event is going on, only ever joining when the girls send Alexia after you. (The Barcelona captain tries not to read too much into why you usually say yes to her but not to anyone else.)

Although it’s fun catching up with the rest of the girls at dinner, Alexia still can’t help but think about you the entire night. She’s scatterbrained, something Mapi doesn’t miss. It’s at the insistence of the blonde that Alexia finds herself here, standing on your doorstep, nervously hoping you’re home alone. 

It’s quiet as she knocks, her breath coming out in nervous little puffs. Alexia is just about to call it a bust when she hears a muffled “coming!” echoing through the door. The wine bottle in her hand feels heavy, palms profusely sweating as she hears the quiet padding of feet. 

There’s the gentle click of the lock before the door’s opening before her.

“Ale, hey.” There’s surprise in your voice, but with her eyes still glued to her feet, Alexia doesn’t make eye contact with you. 

She starts speaking before she can second guess herself. “I know you said you have plans, but I just wanted to--”

The words die in her throat when she finally looks up, locking eyes with yours… Your eyes that are hidden behind a thick frame. 

Standing in front of her, dressed in only the comfiest pair of sweatpants and fuzzy slippers, you have a pair of glasses on your face. 

Alexia blinks. 

“You have glasses.”

You nervously fidget, hand coming up to push your slipping glasses back up your nose. “I wear contacts when we’re out on the field.”

“You look cute.” Both of you are turning red at once. You for the compliment. Alexia for actually saying it out loud.

Coughing to clear the air, you take a step back. “Sorry, where are my manners? Come on in.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind your company.”

Alexia follows you through the door, instantly noting the books laid all over the floors. There’s barely any walkable space in your living room, most surfaces either being covered by textbooks, notebooks, or diagrams. From the look of things, you’ve been at this for a while. 

Alexia can’t help but wonder for how long. 

“Excuse the mess, I was, uh…”

Alexia raises an eyebrow at the sheepish look on your face. “Prior engagement-ing?” 

A light blush coats your cheeks as you nervously scratch at your neck. You don’t even try defending yourself. “I have a test tomorrow. I’m not even halfway done with the material.”

From deep in her memories, Alexia briefly remembers you saying something about studying for accounting. It was only a brief sentence during your initiation introduction, but from the look of things you were clearly still trying hard to finish your degree.

Alexia gives you a gentle smile, definitely not missing your squinty eyes or slightly hunched over back. All signs indicating the start of a killer headache. 

“Well good thing I brought wine and pasta. Can’t have you studying on an empty stomach now can we?”

Your eyes light up when you notice the container in her hand. 

“Is that--”

“Your favorite,” she confirms, fighting the urge to laugh when you instantly make a grabby motion with your hands. Alexia passes you the food with ease, this time not able to hold back her laugh at the way your eyes grow in size when you open the container.

“Please marry me,” you groan, already taking a forkful of the pasta.

“Take me on a date first,” Alexia nervously laughs, hoping you don’t notice how pink she’s gotten.

“Does tomorrow night at 6 work?”

Wait. 

Did you just…

Alexia chokes. “I-- you… what?”

You grin around another forkful of food. “I’d take you out right now but I have a test to study for. And there’s no point in wasting the food you already got for me.”

[rederiswrites]

One really adorable detail from our blacksmithing event this weekend:

The demonstrator, Drew, was a confident, precise, perfectionist. He talked a lot about running a business as an artist, in addition to actual blacksmithing. Over dinner, he told us the most hilarious, amazing story about a customer he's currently working on a commission for. She's got a big event site type farm somewhere in Money Land, Virginia, where three of the richest counties in the country are. The kind of place you pay to have your wedding in bucolic 'natural' settings.

He showed us the design, which is a lovely gate.

"Driveway gate?" I asked. Most of the time the only sign of these people among us is a very long driveway with a gate or some sculptural pylons.

He doesn't have a very expressive face, and it'd taken me a couple hours to get the hang of his humor. His face didn't change as he said, "No. For people to stand in front of for pictures." This, of course, set the tone for a conversation about rich people.

At first, he told us, the customer insisted that money was no object, she just needed it to look grand. He did not like this at all, but pushed her with no success. So he designed a "money is no object" gate, put a price on it, and showed her the design.

"Oh, that's far too much money."

"You said not to worry about money. I said it would be expensive."

"But I really can't pay that much."

Our friend Drew, however, had come prepared with balls of steel and some research.

"That's your car, right?"

"Yes?"

"Do you buy a new one every year?"

"I do."

"Do you know the MSRP on that car?"

"Not off the top of my head."

"It's worth $98,000. More than this gate. So, what you have to ask yourself is, is this piece of art that will last a thousand years, made by hand, worth more or less to you than a car you're going to use for a year."

The dinner table erupted in hoots and expressions of shock, kids and adults alike.

It only sort of worked, when everything's said and done. He did still have to draw up a cheaper design. But the absolute nerve of the man!

Shortly after that, he bashfully showed us pictures of his new hobby, embroidery. He'd put flowers on the cuff of a pair of jeans. He'd wanted to wear them this weekend, he told us, but chickened out. I praised his work, quite honestly, and told him that I'd better see those jeans next time we met. When we all said goodbye Saturday evening, he grinned and said that maybe for the next event he'd get up the courage. Jacob told him that by then those jeans had better be embroidered all over.

[welcometowhore-rrorville]

𝒲𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒫𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒲𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒

Featuring: Jason Voorhees

Word Count: 1.4k 

Warnings: horror content, canon-typical violence, swearing, mean friends are mean, edited but i make mistakes

-

You never should have trusted your so-called friends when they suggested sneaking up to Camp Crystal Lake. It was a stupid, stupid, stupid idea. But you could never find the courage to stick up for yourself, and thus were always involved, and mostly blamed for, any chaos the group of rowdy 20-somethings got up to. You were barely old enough to drink and hated the taste anyway, which led you to be the only one not hollering drunkenly as you sat in the back of the crowded Jeep. Your friend raced down the dirt roads, tires squealing as mud flung everywhere. It looked like it was about to storm, but obviously the group didn’t care.

By the time the car stopped right next to the batterted sign, you were aching to get out and stretch your legs, even for a moment.

You quickly popped open the door, hopping out. 

“What’re you doing?” one of your friends called. “Tryna go for a swim?”

“I just wanted to stretch, is all. . .” you began, but of course someone cut you off. 

“Ha! Wait, baby (Y/N) wants to hang out in the big bad woods all night? I dunno, sounds awful dangerous. . .”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, watching as someone shut the door, leaving you outside in the dirt. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Go and face your fears,” one called. “C’mon. Everyone knows you’re a total pussy. We’ll pick you up in the morning!”

“Don’t leave me here!” you cried, suddenly realizing what they intended to do. You pulled uselessly on the locked door. “Guys, seriously! This isn’t funny!” 

“See ya tomorrow!” 

The tires spun rapidly, flinging dirt onto your bare legs. You flinched, letting go of the handle as the group drove off, still hooting and hollering as they snickered. 

You let out a sigh, trying your best not to fall to your knees and cry. You looked up, watching as the rumbling clouds began to precipitate. A drop landed on your head. Your shoulder. Your nose. More and more came down, and before long you were soaked to the bone and freezing. 

You couldn’t just stand here all night. At this rate you’d get hypothermia.

You grit your teeth, hands gripping your arms as you cautiously began your trek into the woods of the camp. You just hoped those stupid rumors you kept hearing about weren’t true.

By the time you spotted your first cabin, you were shivering and wobbly as you walked. The rain had gotten progressively worse the more the day wore on, and now it was almost dark and you felt like a kicked puppy. 

You reached the front porch of the small place, placing a shaking hand on the handle before opening it. You noted the puddles of water everywhere, but a leaky roof was better than no roof. 

You stepped inside, shutting the door behind you to block out the storm.

It was dark, and you fumbled around before feeling a lantern. It took a few minutes of struggling, but you managed to light it, and let out a sigh of relief when you could finally see again.

It wasn’t much—one room with a few bunk beds, couch, and a kitchenette, but you were thankful for anything. You placed the lantern on a hook jutting out of the wall, lighting up the space. 

You spotted a towel thrown haphazardly on one of the bed posts and grabbed it, drying yourself off as best as you could. 

You paused in your actions when you heard something from outside. It sounded almost like footsteps. Did your friends come back?

Not wasting a second, you scurried back to the door, flinging it open.

No. It wasn’t your friends. It was a man. A giant, hulking mass of a man with sopping wet clothes and a machete bigger than your arm. He donned a white hockey mask, weathered and worn like it had been attached to him for years.

He stood just a few feet away, watching.

You let out a scream, scrambling out the door and shooting towards the woods. Your shoes splashed in the muddied puddles, leaving your body slick with rain, sweat, and mud as you ran. 

You didn’t dare look back. You just kept running, hoping to make it back to the road. Or to anything besides more dense forest.

You could barely move, and brambles scraped against your flesh. Your whole body stung, small rivulets of blood pooling out of every small nick and scratch.

It didn’t stop you. You had to keep going. Keep running. Running away from—

Your foot caught in a root, and with a sickening crack you collapsed to the forest floor, screaming. Your foot erupted in pain, and you stared at your ankle, bile rising in your throat as you saw the odd angle it stuck out at. 

You clambered backwards on your hands, pressing yourself against a particularly large tree trunk. You cried softly as you forced your broken ankle to move, pulling your knees against your chest.

Everything was wet and dirty and dark around you. Everything looked the same, and even if you could still run, you had no idea where to go.

So you sat. Waiting. Sobbing. Trying your best to stay quiet despite your throbbing ankle.

“I don’t wanna be here,” you whimpered to yourself. “I wanna go home. I wanna go home. I wanna go home.” You were pleading to nobody, childish cries leaving your lips. “Please. I want my mom and my dad and my bed and I wanna leave here.” 

You suddenly fell silent at the snap of a twig nearby. You shoved a hand over your mouth, stifling your heavy breaths and cries. Is this it? How you died? All because you were too cowardly to stand up to your friends.

Your eyes darted around, trying desperately to spot your pursuer. He was close. But where?

You finally spotted him, walking swiftly towards you, his blade still clutched firmly in his hands. He walked like nothing stood between the two of you. Like nothing else mattered but seeing your head on a stick.

“No,” you begged, pulling yourself away from the tree and crawling desperately away from him. “Please, no. Don’t kill me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” 

You’d only made it a few pathetic feet before he stood right next to you, heavy boots sunken into the muddy ground. You fell onto your back, tears streaming down your face. You shook your head, holding your hands out in a useless attempt to shield yourself. “I didn’t do anything!” you shouted. “I don’t wanna be here! Please! I just wanna go home!” 

He didn’t raise his blade. He didn’t move at all. He just stared down at you, eyes behind the mask analyzing your injured form. He listened as you pleaded. You begged for your life. That was nothing new. Jason had heard those words many times before. But what did you mean when you said you didn’t want to be here? He saw you at the sign. He saw your friends. Your broken expression as they left you. He saw the way your lip quivered as you stood there. It had been a long time since he felt anything but rage. But looking down at you. Your twisted ankle. Your dirtied clothes and scratched flesh. He only saw himself. That same expression of terror as nobody came to his side. His throat burning as he tried to gasp for air. 

A voice whispered to him. A soft, familiar voice. ‘Keep her, Jason.’

You let out a hoarse scream when he finally moved, bending down to stare into your petrified eyes. He tucked his blade into a pocket, both hands now shuffling underneath your body. You shook your head violently. “No, no, no, no,” you repeated, trying to stop him as he lifted you up and pressed you against him. 

He walked back through the woods, you still floundering in his arms. You punched your fists against his chest, but he didn’t even pause in his gait. He was something else. Unhuman. His skin was an unnatural greenish-pale color, like a dead frog sat out in the sun. His mask dug into his skin so deep it looked like part of his very being. His hands were cold against your flesh, and inside his chest you heard no beating heart. Just heavy breathing.

You let out a whimper. What was going to happen to you? 

[kkpwnall]

if it wasn’t for bad luck i wouldn’t have luck at all

part one | rated t | 1270 words | cw: parental death

all my thanks and love to my beloved @fragilecapric0rnn for beta-reading 💜 you're a rockstar and your feedback was so so helpful

Eddie was born under a bad sign. That’s what his momma always used to say. Friday the 13th, and in October? He never really stood a chance and neither did anyone else he got close to. He was like a black cat walking across their path. 

[ keep reading below, or read on ao3 ]

His momma was first, of course. Cursed by the fate of Eddie’s birth from the very beginning. And if he hadn’t dawdled on the way home from school that day, if he had gone straight home just like he’d promised, if he hadn’t stopped to pick a bouquet of ditch weed wildflowers for her and got distracted by caterpillars and rollie-pollies— Well, maybe he would’ve been able to tell the 911 operator she was still breathing when he found her.

His daddy was next, not much long after. Eddie worshiped him like a hero in one of his fantasy stories, the charming, devil-may-care, down on his luck protagonist who stole from the rich and gave to the needy. But the first time Floyd brought him out on a real job, just the two of them, when all Eddie had to do was hot wire the getaway car after he heard the signal (three hoots like a barn owl), Eddie panicked. Did he say barn owl or barred owl? Was that two hoots or three? Why did the wires all look the same in the dark?

When the police cars painted him in their flashing red and blue lights, he dropped the wire cutters and ran. Floyd went down in a hail of bullets behind the car Eddie had been trying to steal, and Wayne got his own life sentence when the State dropped Eddie on his doorstep.

Uncle Wayne got the worst of it, obviously. Working himself to the bone, nights and weekends, to put Eddie through school. Not to mention senior year for a second and third goddamn time.

It was too late by the time young Eddie figured it out. By the time he decided to keep everyone at arm’s length.

It’s safer that way, for everyone.

Chrissy was just the latest in a long line. And he’d only lowered his guard an inch, a millimeter, when he saw someone just as lonely and desperate for a friend. He’d only barely started to let himself have an inkling of what an actual friendship with her might be like when—

This is exactly why Eddie doesn’t have friends. He has minions. He has little lost sheepies, he has twerps and shrimps. And that’s it. That’s enough. It has to be enough.

But all that changes the day he dies.

Or maybe it’s the day he finally wakes up. His new birthday, welcomed to the world once again in a cold, bright, sterile hospital room.

And really, the way he sees it, it’s all Henderson’s fault.

The little shit wanders in every day at visiting hours and makes himself right at home. He props his cast up on Eddie’s bed, and steals the remote to change the channel on the ancient, minuscule tv over to cartoons, and then he just… camps out! All day!

The kid will not leave him alone, no matter how cold a shoulder Eddie tries to give him. He even broke down and explained everything to him. How he’s bad luck, he’s bad news. And people who get too close to him end up dead.

But maybe the painkillers they’ve got him on scrambled his brain as bad as the bats scrambled his guts, because Dustin steamrolls right over him.

“If curses were real, which they aren’t,” he posits in his professor voice, “Your dumb curse can’t try to kill me again. It already took a shot and it missed, and the worst I got was a busted ankle.”

Eddie opens his mouth to tell Dustin that’s not how curses work but—

“And what was its goal anyway? To get you alone and friendless, dead in a ditch? Well then, mission accomplished!”

Which is… weirdly comforting when he puts it like that.

Dustin brings with him a rotating cast of the rest of the fellowship. Eddie finally gets to meet Baby Byers and finds out he’s already been recruited to Hellfire before Eddie can even say hello.

More often than not, Steve tags along too since he’s already ferrying them all between the hospital and home. Usually after he’s spent some time with Red and the other kids in her room, he’ll drop by. To check on Dustin of course.

It’s not because he likes Eddie. Don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t even know him.

All that… before… it was just some harmless flirting to keep himself from completely losing it while he was on the run from homicidal bible-thumpers. And Steve was just humoring him.

So he hides behind stupid flirtatious remarks, easy to brush off when it’s always undercut with sly winks and salacious expressions. Enough to keep everything surface level. Keep him at arms length.

It doesn’t matter that his eyes still seem to linger on Eddie, even when he hasn’t said anything for a while. Or that he brings Eddie extra pudding cups from the cafeteria. It doesn’t mean anything when he stands in the doorway trying to finish one last story or joke, until the kids almost literally have to drag him out when visiting hours are over.

Because it turns out Steve is an incorrigible gossip. And Eddie’s not about to be the one to corrige him. Not when he brings an extra dr. pepper for Eddie every time he stops by the vending machine for a coke and gleefully tells Eddie which of the doctors, nurses, and shady government agents are sleeping together.

A can of coke he taps on the lid with a peculiar rhythm before he cracks it, every time.

“What’s up with that?” Eddie finally has to ask one day, when it’s just the two of them and the Price is Right.

Steve hums this confused little sound at him, tilting his head with furrowed brows as he takes the first sip.

Eddie repeats the pattern, tapping it out on his own can.

Steve blinks a few times, first at Eddie, then at the can in his hand.

“I didn’t even realize I did that,” he huffs out a laugh. “It’s uh… something my grandpa taught me when I was a kid. Y’know just for luck.”

The blood in Eddie’s veins freezes and he’s stuck like that for a painfully long moment. Propped up against the lumpy hospital pillows with his mouth half open, staring at Steve.

“For luck.” he says flatly.

“Yeah, so the fizz doesn’t explode when you open it.”

“And has that ever happened to you?” Aiming for flirty, aiming for scathing, aiming for anything that’s not desperation.

“Well no,” Steve says with an easy shrug and a conspiratorial smile, “that’s why it’s lucky. It’s like picking up a coin that’s face-down on the sidewalk.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s face-up, darlin,” Eddie says coyly, like every alarm bell in his head isn’t ringing a deafening cacophony.

“Nah see, you gotta leave those ones for someone who really needs the luck.”

“But then you get the bad luck.”

“Nah, doesn’t work that way,” Steve says, and fucking winks at him.

Eddie wants to shake him. What is wrong with him? He’s got it all backwards and it’s dangerous. How is he walking around like this?

Whatever, it’s not his problem. Steve can do whatever Steve wants. Eddie doesn’t need to protect him from himself. It’s not like they’re friends. And really, that’s the best way to protect him.

[ part two ]

[ also on ao3 ]

[crow2222]

May I request: Tim bringing a (fairly) concussed Darry back to the gang?

WC; 1122

I never wrote in Tim's pov before, so apologies if it's out of character.

The rocks rolled under his feet, each step as sloppy and uncoordinated as the next. Usually this movement means one of two things in this neighbourhood; they got shitfaced or were jumped, and poor ol’ Darry seemed to be hit by the latter. 

I wasn’t known for helping out just any unlucky soul, but this man had always found a way to lend me a hand without even knowing it himself. So when I saw him staggering home whilst taking my own trek home; I crossed the street and wrapped my arm around him. 

He paid no mind to me it seemed, not even a slight hint of acknowledgement from him. It was strange, it sure was, Darry was one kind man, supposedly he once dropped everything and helped an old woman cross the street. He was stupid in the head, being like that in a town like this, and this night sure proved it.

His truck was parked up front once we made it back, and I wondered where the hell he was going, and what happened, but I kept my mouth shut as I helped him get up the front steps of the porch.

Judging by the hoots and yells from inside, none of them had a damn clue or worry about their precious guardian. Not that I’d blame them, that group of boys never seemed to get a damned break. First their parents, then Dallas n Johnny. How they could be jumping around and laughing was beyond me. 

It all died down as the screen door slammed into the wall, making Darry wince, his body tensing up in my hold. Knowing I couldn’t do anything to stop his supposed headache, I kept on going inside, cursing under my breath when he started to rest his entire weight on me. 

“Goddammit Curtis get up!” I tried shrugging him off, but alas.

My yell was what made them get up from the kitchen, and I was met with the faces of the boys Darry took care of as if all were his own. 

Two-bit, Steve, Soda, and the runt, Ponyboy. 

Hands all flew towards me, grabbing the older man from my grasp. WIth steady steps among Two-bit and Steve, they deposited Darry on the couch, his head reeling backwards with a groan. 

“Tim. What happened to him?” The littlest Curtis asked me, his eyes huge and staring at his brother. Soda was gone off somewhere, before the crashes alerted me he was probably getting the aid kit. 

My shoulders shrugged before my mind thought of a reply, as well as helping people, I also wasn’t known for being a big talker, unlike the wise-ass Keith and Dallas. “Just found ‘im trying to get over here. Seemed to me like he was about to pass out before I reached the door.” 

Then I took in how Darry looked again.

His face was crumpled up in pain, his hair dishevelled to a certain degree, the starting signs of bruises on his face and arms, and not to mention that he was sporting a bloody nose, which he tried to wipe away.

It wasn’t a pretty sight; this realisation only came to me in the bright lights of the sitting room. It made me wonder if I should’ve taken him to my own house and cleaned him up a bit before getting his sorry ass home. Would’ve saved them from worrying so much.

Sodapop then blocked my view, immediately getting to work. He cleaned up cuts and scratches I didn’t even realise were there, making me more inquisitive about Darry’s whereabouts more than ever. Steve must’ve thought the same thing, his voice pulling me out of the worry I didn’t know I was feeling. 

“Where the hell did you go off to? We thought you were sleeping.” His tone was short and snippy, as per usual, but there was a rare hint of care in it as well. I didn’t know much about him other than his great car skills, but he’d taught Dallas how to steal hubcaps and I’ll forever hate that fact. Too many of my wheels went without hubcaps whenever we’d get in any kind of scrap.

By then, Ponyboy was gone from my side and already placed a glass of water and a bottle of pills on the table. He would’ve been hanging out with Curly if he wasn’t in the reformatory, there was no doubt in my mind about that. That stupid kid just had a liking to the Curtis; I couldn’t put my finger onto why.

It took around two minutes for me to realise I overstayed my welcome; my duty was solely just to bring Darry home, not to pace around like a man in a hospital waiting room, wondering if his buddy would have to stay the night for observation or not.

My shoes squeaked as I turned my heel, ignoring the nagging voice in my head that told me to stay. I wasn’t planning on stickin’ around at all, but then Darry had to open his dumb mouth and call out my name. It was more like a quiet whine, but I heard it all the same.

So I stayed.

I felt like an odd one out amongst them all, like a puzzle piece from a different box that got mixed up. They all fit in together, albeit they were missing a couple of their own pieces. The three brothers were all huddled up on the couch, the other two on the floor nearby. 

Lights were turned off, leaving only the side lamp on as they coaxed Darry enough to get the damn painkillers and keep him awake by keeping the television on, the sound just high enough to keep him from sleeping. He was fighting it; I could tell from the bopping of his head, his baby brother falling asleep on his shoulder probably didn’t help either.

Stretching my legs out from the recliner, I decided it was finally time for me to leave, no amount of begging keeping me this time. The cold wind ran shivers down my spine once I opened up the door, and when I took one glance back in the sitting room, I was met with the hazy eyes of Darrel. 

His head bowed down slightly, obviously causing him some discomfort as his eyes crinkled, and his scowl deepened. He was giving me thanks despite his damn concussion.

I bit back my tongue, I wasn’t about to call a man who can barely walk stupid. So instead, I dipped my head back to him and left.

There was only one question on my mind as I kicked a rock across the road; How did good ol’ Darry get hurt? 

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

Woodsy Stake-Out

[ID: a green badge of a stack of folders with text that reads ‘Sambucky Summer Camp Bingo, Mission Fic, ESTD. 2023 / finish ID]

Title: Woodsy Stake-Out

Square Filled: Mission Fic

A/N: a ficlet of a couple of guys planning a stake-out in a car for @sambuckylibrary. where sam and bucky arrive to a serpent society hide-out in the woods. thanks to the ppl who provided suggestions and inputs in this (x). however, i had to choose a specific idea and rolled with it. ^^

Word Count: 945

T.W: food, i guess

***

Owls hooted as crickets chirp at the expanse of a forest. The wheels of a car skidded onto a route, only stooping to a halt. Parking some miles away from a guarded electric fenced gates ahead.

"Well, well, they probably expected company," Bucky remarked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Operating in the woods must be their new way to maintain a low profile." Sam shifted in his seat, propping an elbow against the window's edge. "No wonder we couldn't track them down in the city. If it wasn't for Joaquin, we'd be sitting ducks."

Bucky nodded, grimacing. "And if we don't get their weapons soon, they'd take down the city."

"Breaking into tech companies and labs, stealing the components they need." Sam crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Shit. I hate how we couldn't get the drop on them sooner."

Despite himself, he made an affirmative little noise.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, examining the building from afar. Getting glimpses of some hench-people moving crates and packages over the field.

The Serpent Society has set up a base in the woods. Developing weaponry that could take down an entire city to the ground. Especially since it contained parts from alien tech, which could be dangerous used by people with wrong intentions.

Bad news all around.

Fury had paged them and called them for this mission. Giving information as much as he could obtain. They needed to be outside their base, observe them from afar before taking action. And they needed extreme caution, considering how Viper was a clever sort of adversary.

If they weren't having a mission, they would be helping Sarah with the boat. However, duty called and they had to delay repairs.

"So, we're doing a stake-out in this car?" Bucky asked, wiping his knife blade with a thin cloth.

Sam nodded, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. "Yeah, we're gonna be here for a couple of hours.

Great, Bucky thought, his pulse kicking up a notch. Leaning back on his seat.

What had he gotten himself into? Even though, he willingly signed up for it? He had believed they would kick some Serpent Society ass and be on their way. Mission accomplished and all that jazz. However, he had to do a stake-out instead.

Not his usual brand of missions.

And with Sam? Including being. . . Alone? With him, specifically? Fury must have paired them together to torture him in the most twisted yet sweet way possible.

It didn't help that Sam's arm rested by the brakes, just some inches further from his.

He could do worse than Sam. . . He might have been stuck with Torres, who would have chatted throughout the entire thing. Or Scott Lang, who would have did some weird diversions.

Yeah. Bucky could have had worse options, getting spared from it. But he couldn't help how his heart insisted in 'thump', 'thump', 'thump' at the minimal. . . space between them. A little too close just for a couple of guys.

Being cramped in this small space in this car. . . wouldn't bode well for his psyche.

However, if he could jump from an airplane without a parachute and survive, he could also survive this. With his composure and dignity intact.

If there was one thing Bucky was still good at, it would be keeping it cool. He did it back in the forties. And he could defuse his feeling of awkwardness with some quips up his sleeve.

"And I thought the bad guys would find better lairs or something."

"Yeah, I guess they couldn't afford it."

"Wow, that's lousy."

"Tell me about it. But they have good enough security to keep us out."

"A smoke screen ought to knock 'em out, right?"

". . . wait, you brought some?"

"Of course, Samuel. Gotta be prepared for Hydra affiliated scums, ya know."

"Touché. I've also got some snacks in here."

When Sam pushed his seat back, he yanked a backpack beneath it. Zipping it open and revealing packets of chips, cupcakes, and soda cans. He reached for a soda and popped it's cap open.

"Thank you," Bucky murmured, sighing deeply. "If we're gonna punch those assholes, we need all the energy we can get."

"True that," Sam replied, his lips quirking up at a corner. "I wished I'd sleep better before we left. I feel like my bones are gonna sink."

He tensed up and arched a brow. "What the. . . You didn't sleep well? That explains why you look exhausted."

"Uh huh." Sam sounded resigned. He shrugged. "Got a job to do, anyways. Sleep can wait."

"Hold on, I'm gonna go in there. And while you stay here."

"What? No! We're supposed to do this as a team."

"I know, I know. But you don't have enough energy and I do. I can destabilize those weapons before the Serpent Society could level them at the city."

"This sounds like a terrible idea."

"Pfft, as if most of them didn't work."

Bucky patted Sam's shoulder, peering into his dark brown eyes soft from concern. Sam's tight posture loosened and he sagged against his seat, nodding slowly.

"Alright. But be careful, Buck."

"Hey, I'll be back in a while. You'll see."

Sam chuckled, his expression fond. Bucky reveled in it, reaching for his door's handle.

As he pushed the door open, he started marching towards the trunk. Opening it and grabbing a duffle bag, which contained his gadgets and trusty equipment. Slamming it shut as he carried it.

With this plan, Bucky could finish this mission within an hour or so. He should probably have back-up, however, he probably could deal with it. Without much trouble.

***

[ghoulsister1]

🎃SpookTober 31 Days Prompts🎃:

Day 10: Forest🏕

Miche Zacharias x GN!Reader. Camping trip gone astray. Miche is Norwegian. Some angst. Hurt/Comfort. Don't worry, it gets fluffy. Dark forest. Camping. Things go bump in the night. SpookTober Prompt: Forest🏕

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☆●~A Night In The Woods~●☆

You were reluctant about going out camping in the forest at night but your boyfriend Miche wanted you to see it wasn't so bad. When things start going from bad to scary, you are now regretting going out camping tonight!

You were reluctant from the beginning to go out camping, in the large dark creepy looking forest, at night. Okay, so yeah you watched lots of movies where people are always getting killed in the forest either by animals or people. And yes you played video games, scary video games that took place in dark scary forests. But still, as much as you loved nature it didn't mean you were willing to sleep in it unless it was a house, with a lock and a hotline to emergency services.

But your boyfriend, whom you loved so dearly was itching to go camping and show you how fun it could be. You tried to steer away from the conversation but Miche wasn't easily persuaded.

"Babe, you'll be with me. Nothing is gonna get you unless they wanna tangle with me" Reasoned Miche. He did have a point. Miche was very tall and built, not a lot of guys would dare mess with him. So it was a comforting notion that you were camping with Miche but you still felt a little nervous.

"I promise you, nothing will hurt you" Reassured Miche. You eventually agreed to go camping with him one October day. Packed up with essentials, you both headed out to find a good spot. You drove to a forest area and parked the car just outside the entrance. You both walked into the forest, scouting for a good spot.

The further you walked, the more dark the forest got, the tall trees blocking out any sunlight. You shivered.

"Here should be good" Said Miche as he picked the spot to set up camp. You nodded and the two of you went to work.

"Miche?" You Asked.

"Yeah?" Replied Miche as he set up the tent.

"I saw a sign back there about local animals. Are there bears in these parts?" You Asked nervously.

"Bears? No. We might spot some deer, maybe a wolf or two...." Miche Began.

"A wolf?!" You Cried, fearfully looking around.

"Relax Y/N. Just light up a fire and they won't come near. Besides we might not even spot a wolf" Reassured Miche.

"Okay" You Sighed nervously. Miche looked up and saw how shook up you were. Without a word, Miche stood up and walked over to you. He lifted up your chin to him and he smiled at you.

"Don't worry kjære, I promise I won't let anything harm you" Vowed Miche. Calling you "sweetheart" is his native Norwegian tongue made you feel warm inside and you smiled at him.

"I know you'll protect me, my big strong bear" You Smiled, making Miche chuckle.

"If things do get too much, we will return home. I promise you" Reassured Miche and you nodded.

"Okay sweetie" You Agreed and you both shared a sweet kiss before returning to set up your camp.

By midday, the camp was set up. You sat in the folding chair, smiling.

"Maybe this will turn out to be more fun than I expected" You Remarked happily. Miche grinned at you as he gathered up some sticks for the fire.

"Good thing I packed some food" Miche Remarked as he gathered up the sticks.

Maybe it won't be so bad after all.

But once the sun went down, the forest just got creepy. An eerie wind blew through the trees softly, creating a creepy whistling of sort. Critters chirped and called as they scampered through the undergrowth unseen, the deep hooting of an owl in the tree echoed throughout as you lay next to Miche in the sleeping bag in the large tent.

You trembled but tried to ignore it all and get some sleep. You were so spooked, you didn't turn off the lantern.

"Hey babe, you still awake?" Asked Miche, surprised.

"Oh? Oh yeah! Just you know, listening to the beautiful sounds of nature!" You Lied, smiling. As if on cue, the screech of an owl accompanied by the screams of a fox calling out to it's kind resounded through the forest as a chill ran through you.

"God why is it once nightfall hits that the cute fluffy animals in the day turn into demons?" You Thought shivering. Miche listened to the various screeching and calling with a doubtful look.

"Not to be critic but I wouldn't call those sounds exactly, beautiful" Grimaced Miche before smiling sheepishly as a fox in the far distance screamed louder. If you didn't it was a fox, you'd think a person was getting murdered from the sounds of it!

"Let's head to bed" Said Miche as he reached over and turned off the lantern, plunging the tent in darkness.

"Holy mother of fuck this is terrifying!" You Thought with panic. You layed dead still and silent as the night time orchestra outside continued their night terror music.

To make things worse, a pack of coyotes in the distance began howling and screaming, making your heart race at their ungodly sounds.

"Coyotes" Remarked Miche, eyes closed but still awake.

"Uh huh" You Nodded nervously.

"Demons was my first guest, but okay" You Thought with a chill.

"Miche I love you, but as soon as I hear one growl of a bear or pack of wolves coming this way we are leaving" You Declared shivering.

Miche chuckled at that.

"Alright" Chuckled Miche.

Suddenly, there was the snapping of twigs echoing throughout the forest. You freezed, listening for more sounds. Maybe it was an animal?

*Snap!* *crack!*

The noise came again, a little closer but still far from where you and Miche were.

"Maybe it's a deer or a badger?" You Thought.

*Snap!* *Snap!* *Crack!* *CRACK!*

That last one sounded like it was getting closer. Much closer. Your heart began to race as the sound got closer and closer.

"Miche? Miche! MICHE!" You Hissed nudging him.

"Wha...what?" Asked Miche sleepily.

"Were you asleep?!" You Whisper Shouted.

"I was" Replied Miche looking at you tiredly.

"How can you sleep when this is going on?!" You Whispered.

"What's going on?" Asked Miche confused.

Then, that's when he heard it.

*Crack!* *Snap!* *SNAP!*

Miche's face dropped.

"What the fuck is that?!" You Whispered.

"I don't know but" Miche Trailed off and sniffed the air. You waited anxiously, silently praying that it was a random animal. You'd take a bear even! Anything but........a human.

"It's far away but moving towards us still" Miche Remarked as he sniffed the air again.

"It's a person" Miche Concluded.

"Fuck this!" You Said and with that, you and Miche started packing up and heading towards the car. As Miche started looking for his keys, the footsteps were approaching and heading towards where you both were by the car.

Without thinking you grabbed the sharp tent stake and held it threateningly, shouting into the dark entrance of the forest.

"Come on you fucker! Try it!" You Shouted.

Out of the darkness jumped a doe, startling both you and Miche. The doe stood there, looking at you both as if it was saying "Dude WTF?". You and Miche looked at each, then at the doe standing there silently judging you both and you laughed. The doe titled it's head at you both and just walked off, probably thinking "Those humans are so weird!".

You and Miche laughed hard. Of all things that could possibly get you both so spooked, you both got worried over a doe.

"Oh god I feel so silly now!" You Laughed.

"I honestly thought we were gonna find ourselves in some trouble!" Laughed Miche.

"Hey, you wanna set up camp again?" You Asked seeing as it was only an animal that was roaming around.

Miche looked back at the woods and shook his head with a chuckle.

"Nah, let's head home babe. I could go for a beer" Miche Remarked and you both chuckled in agreement as you got it the car and drove off, back to the safety of home.

It was a good thing you didn't go back to set up camp again. And it was really good of you to not look back as you drove off, otherwise you'd see that figure dressed in black standing at the entrance to the woods. It was a good idea you both decided to drive home that night.

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[whimsinatural]

Isaac, Max, and a Borrowed Breath

Woah, new Pnat content from Whimsi??? Made mere days and not years ago???? unheard of! 

I wrote a li’l oneshot! Just a 4k word, G-rated action/comedy with a little Imaax sprinkled in. It’s also available on AO3! 

Summary: When a simple reconnaissance mission goes about as wrong as it possibly can, Isaac gets the chance he’d always dreamed of to prove how useful his powers can be---the chance to be a hero! In the heat of the moment, though? It’s so much less glorious than the cartoons always made it look... 

“Alright, kids, remember,” Mr. Spender had warned the Activity Club as they bubbled eagerly out of the noxiously car-freshener scented interior of Giancarlo and into the warm, sunny autumn evening. “We’re only looking for signs of the poltergeist: clawed footprints, burn marks on trees, or foreboding, grammatically questionable messages drawn into the mud. This is not a fighting mission! Kindly ask questions first and shoot later!”

He’d shouted the last part, because the kids had already tuned him out in their eagerness to get moving—or, more accurately, Ed and Isabel had already taken off into the brush, hooting with laughter. Max hadn’t been far behind them, which left Isaac no choice but to desperately scramble to avoid being left behind… again. 

Still—it wasn’t a bad day for another poorly-explained mission, Isaac noticed somewhat reluctantly. Birds and crickets chirped from the cover of the trees nearby, and a couple of tiny cat-moth spirits had been fluttering closer and closer to him since he’d left the car. When he lit his finger with cyan spectral energy, they followed all the paths and shapes he traced. No amount of torture could’ve extracted this confession from him, but it was sort of… well, magical. More magical than the average spirit encounter in his messed-up magical life. It was just—they were cute… and it was kinda like having a little animal familiar, like some of his favorite anime characters partnered with! 

“What are you sparkling about this time?” Max asked in a droll tone. Isaac jumped a little, cheeks immediately warm. He hadn’t noticed the wannabe batter lagging behind to walk next to him. He shook his hand out, and the fairy-cats dissipated with his spectral energy. 

“Uh. Nothing? I—I don’t sparkle!” He made a face, but he wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed with Max’s dumb question or his own dumb answer. “Look, you’ve got the wrong guy—ask Spender, he’s the sparkly one.” 

Max shrugged, smirking lazily and swinging his bat up to rest on his shoulder. He cast an exaggerated glance between Isaac and the history teacher a few paces ahead of them. “I mean, now that you say it, I can see it. There’s some resemblance there,” he drawled. 

“Wh-hey!” The blue glow cast from his sudden outburst of spectral energy reflected on Max’s smug smile. “I do not! Take that back!” 

“No, no, hear me out,” Max elaborated. ‘You’re both, like, wisened and world-weary elderly.” 

“I’m only one year older than you,” Isaac grumbled, shoving Max’s shoulder. 

“Chronically bad at keeping secrets,” Max continued, counting off on his fingers. “Emotionally volatile, brooding protagonist weirdos. Probably could fry any monster without blinking but can’t withstand three seconds of a snark attack before immediately crumpling. I bet you’d both forward those dumb bad-juju chain emails if you knew enough people to send ‘em to. I bet you both eat your chips with chopsticks.” He shrugged. “Not to mention them matching beautiful baby blues and sparkles, my guy. Time to face the truth; you’re practically long lost twins.” 

Isaac sputtered for thirty seconds straight, fighting an uphill battle through waves of offense before any of Max’s words had even gained any meaning. “Wh–hhh–ugh–shut up! You don’t know anything!” There wasn’t anything wrong with—he didn’t just eat chips with chopsticks to harness the power of anime, it was cool and unique and artful and kept his fingers from getting greasy! And— “Wait, Spender has blue eyes?” 

“Alright, I was gambling on that one, but how can he not? I mean.” Max gestured at Spender. “If I didn’t know better, I would think he’s possessed by the ghost of Barbie-Ken. Look at ‘im.” 

Okay, that was kind of funny. He glanced at their club leader weaving gingerly through the tall grass ahead of them, currently tussling his own hair in thought while gazing off into the distance. He was wearing a blue button-down, khaki shorts, Adidas sandals, and—of course—his signature sunglasses. Something about him did seem vaguely… plastic. 

Isaac snorted, meeting Max’s dark blue-gray eyes again. “Well… I’ll give you that one. Funny, I’d always kinda imagined him with—eh, maybe light hazel eyes?” Golden, he’d almost said, but that would’ve sounded weird. Not that it mattered. It was kinda weird to realize that he hadn’t looked Spender in the eyes even once in the two years he’d known him. Just another dumb, pointless secret. 

Wait a second. Isaac raised a brow smugly. “Anyway—didn’t take you for a Barbie fan, Max.” 

The reaction he got wasn’t anywhere near the level of the flustered reactions he gave, but he’d take Max’s subtle mis-step as a small victory. “Yeah, me either, Elsa, but tragically, I have a nine-year-old sister and intact observation skills.” 

Isaac mimed a flicking motion in Max’s direction, sending a miniature gust of a snowstorm at him. Max shivered, but otherwise he took it all in stride. “...You’re just proving my point, you know.” 

Isaac rolled his eyes amiably. “I could take out Elsa with both arms tied behind my back, and you know it.” 

“See, there’s that Disney villain energy we all know and love,” Max cheered monotonously. “All that’s left is the song and dance, and your transformation will be complete.” 

“Is that a dare?” Isaac grinned evilly. 

“What? No. It’s a taunt. Don’t–” 

For a glorious instant, Isaac managed to both form recognizable tentacles out of spectral energy and sing the first few notes in-tune: “Poor unfortunate souls! In pain! In need!” 

“Aaaaaah,” Max groaned tunelessly, halfheartedly covering his ears with his hands—but he was grinning, too. “Okay, you win, weather witch. Spare me, have mercy.”

“Agh! Isaac!” Isabel shouted reproachfully from the front of the group, and his self-confidence and smile both immediately fell flat, replaced with a scowl and heat in his cheeks. What was he doing? He—he’d almost completely forgotten that anyone else was even there. He’d been… well, acting like a total loser dork, but he’d been having fun.

Then he and Max stepped into the abrupt bank of mist and drizzle, too, and he realized suddenly that Isabel hadn’t been complaining about his singing. “It’s not me!” He shouted back. 

Max elbowed him gently, startling him. “Don’t tell me they always blame you when the weather turns,” he scoffed. “Or else I’ve got a lot of complaints to file for bright, blinding sunshine that could’ve been school snow days. Or at least a little overcast.” 

Isaac only managed to answer with a weak smile before something else answered for him, screeching out of the thick fog with a voice like a rusty faucet handle. Five different colors of spectral energy shot up, even more ghostly-looking than normal as the ethereal light reflected eerily on the ambient water droplets. Max readied his bat. Spender jogged ahead to catch up with Isabel and Ed, presumably to stop them before they could dash off and attack the source of the awful sound alone. With parallel motives (much to his chagrin), Isaac held a hand out in front of Max in a motion between shielding the newbie and holding him back. 

“Max, wait. It could be dangerous,” he cautioned, ignoring the eyeroll he received in return. “Or… it might not be aggressive at all—it could just be a hurt spirit or something. Either way, we should think about this before we–” 

“We’re not gonna figure out anything by standing here,” Max objected, but he was immediately proven wrong by the sounds of shouting and threats of impending violence up ahead. The two boys shared a look, then hurried to catch up with the rest of the club. 

Isaac hadn’t realized they’d been so close to the lake until he watched the spirit ahead rise from it in a mass of writhing tentacles. It had a long, green, arched scaly neck and a metallic, toothy muzzle shaped sort of like an alligator’s, lined with holes that sprayed mist. The light of the sunset created a rainbow halo effect on the dense fog surrounding it. The matte red frill on the back of the spirit’s head resembled something between decorative horns and the spigot of a hose. With another blood-curdling creaking sound, the spigot spun, and the fog and drizzle pouring out from its eyes and all the divots along its face were replaced with pressurized streams of water. Isabel opened her umbrella over herself and Ed; everyone else was drenched as the beast gazed down on them. It hovered there, regarding them as the group stared back up at it.

“Did we make it cry?” Ed guessed, paintbrush in hand. “Maybe we just spooked the poor spook. Or maybe it really, really liked Isaac’s singing.” 

“It’s not what we’re looking for, is it?” Isabel asked Spender, ignoring Ed’s theory while, rather uncharacteristically, following the mission orders and checking with their team leader slash figurehead before resorting to violence. 

“No,” Spender called over the hissing and drumming sound of the falling water all around them, taking a single step back. “I think it’s only territorial. Come along; if we back away, it should leave us–” 

He cut off with a yelp when the thing abruptly bent down, snagged him around the waist with its teeth and spun its head, whipping Spender around end-over-end like a plane propeller, all the while spraying water in great spiral patterns like a hyperactive lawn sprinkler. In a burst of bright yellow light, Spender fell. The spirit’s freshly-detached head fell into the shallow water with him, metal jaws still locked around his trunk. The neck flopped down into the water an instant later, missing Spender by a few feet. It looked hollow inside like a garden hose, still sluggishly pouring fresh water into the muddy, churned-up lake. 

Spender splashed up out of the lake with a gasp and a cheery thumbs-up, looking like a half-drowned golden retriever but free from the gator’s jaws. It must not have had very sharp teeth, as he didn’t look injured. He must’ve still been a little dizzy, though, because he only managed a few steps before tripping, ending up on his hands and knees in the muck. “I’m alright!”

Isabel broke out of her default fighting stance to run towards the monster, Ed in hot pursuit. A spectral sword gleamed in her free hand. “Mr. Spender!”

The spirit hadn’t given up the ghost yet. The hose slowly unfurled and rose above the group again, oozing water and gray spectral energy. The mixture took on the shape of two new, smaller heads facing opposite each other, quickly solidifying. If the hydra had looked upset before, it was furious now. It resumed its downpour with redoubled efforts. 

Isabel took a slice out of a thick, hollow tentacle right before it flattened Spender, causing the creature to withdraw the appendage momentarily. Ed looked like he was trying to draw something, but the ink kept running down his arm instead. Isaac fired off a spec-shot and it just barely grazed past the hydra’s leftmost bulging, weeping silver eyeball. The thing shook its head, spun its spigot, sprayed more water, and suddenly darted to snap at Isaac in the same way it had attacked Spender. He dodged quickly, firing another spec-shot. He thought he heard it strike, but it was hard to tell—the air was so thick with water, it was running in his eyes and making it hard to see. Which was stupid, given that he had weather powers. He should be immune to rain. Swimming goggles would’ve been great right now. At least it wasn’t ectoplasm or anything else potentially corrosive—it was going in his ears and his mouth and his nose, and it tasted exactly like tap water. 

He’d fry the thing, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to kill it—just scare it off, maybe. Even then, couldn't see more than a few yards in front of him at best, and… even if he didn’t hit anything directly, he was afraid of the lightning traveling through the water and electrocuting someone else. His hands were tied. No wonder nobody ever wanted him at their back in a fight.

Gritting his teeth, he ran towards the fray, summoning a spectral weapon and a gust of wind to clear the air around him somewhat. Maybe if he got close, he could freeze its mouth shut and they could all still make a quick getaway. Somewhere ahead and to his right, he could hear Isabel’s war cry, still distinctive amid the raucous splashing and screeching of the hose hydra-gator thing. The hydrator. 

He ducked as another sleek green tentacle whipped over his head, jabbing up at it blindly with his electric-blue spectral spear. The construct flared up in his hand and lost its shape at the cut-off scream behind him. “Max!” He whirled in place, watching in horror as the appendage swiftly snatched his friend. It whipped him back through the air towards the hydrator, leaving his baseball cap lying upside-down in the fresh mud. Panicked crackles of lightning snapped around Isaac’s arms, filling his chest and frying his nerves as he ran after Max. What was it gonna do—eat him? Crush him to death? Throw him halfway across the lake? He snarled and summoned a bigger gust of wind, boosting his speed and momentarily flinging the torrential spray back at the hydrator to clear his vision. There were the tell-tale flashes of yellow, red and green energy battering on the body of the monster, but where was Max? He hesitated, still panting and sparking.

Something shoved him from behind, just strong and unexpected enough that he stumbled forward a few steps. His eyes widened and he clapped a hand to his back right pants pocket, but there was nothing there—just his phone, probably wrecked from all the water and electricity. Because of the metal components. Magnetism. Max! He charged forwards in the direction his pocket pulled him, splashing through knee-deep and then waist-deep water, shooting off the occasional spec-shot to ward off more tentacle attacks. Heaving a few deep, rapid breaths, he dove. 

It took his stinging eyes a few moments to adjust to the murky water, but that didn’t slow him down. There, a flash of silver and black against the silt and algae—Max! He wasn’t still wrapped up in the hydrator’s tentacle, but he looked half-buried in the muck at the bottom of the lake. He must’ve seen Isaac, too, because he was waving frantically.

Isaac almost swam back up to the surface to catch his breath, lungs already aching—and it really wasn’t that deep, but—Max had been down here longer! He was gonna drown if he didn’t do something! He quickly paddled his way over. The magnetism in his pocket stopped pulling him along as Max gave up on using his powers and tried to use his bat to push away from whatever had him trapped instead, to no avail. Isaac gripped him under his arms and pulled up with all his might. Max didn’t budge except to claw at Isaac’s shirt. His ankle was caught—he was really trapped down here, and he was going to drown, holy crackers, this couldn’t be happening! 

Help me, he thought angrily, as if King C. cared. But the half-addled plea gave him the spark of an idea, and quickly, he raised both arms, summoning the biggest, hardest gust of wind he ever had straight down towards them. Amazingly, it split the lakewater above them, tunneling down through the churning water and blasting boatloads of mud and pondscum off into the walls of water around them. The force of it drove Isaac down to his knees. It was too harsh to breathe! Coughing and spitting, with more concentration than he’d ever lent anything else in his life, he eased the vicious wind until it was just at the edge of his control. The water regathered again above them, but his constant, careful tugging and stirring of the air in their bubble held it together and tethered it in place around him and Max. 

Standing there on the bottom of the Mayview lake, he took a tremorous breath of the dry fish-and-ozone scented air. His knees and his hands shook. His teeth chattered. Keeping his hands raised so he wouldn’t lose command of their air supply, he offered a wobbly grin to Max. 

Max, whose eyes were bugging out of his skull and whose fingers were digging painfully into Isaac’s shoulders. Max, whose mouth was gaping open without any sound. Max, who was still not breathing! Isaac swore. What was he supposed to do? He’d never done the Heimlich maneuver, or… uh… mouth to mouth… or anything like that! Dangit, he was useless! 

The bubble wobbled around them in response to Isaac’s panic, and a little arc of lightning flew from one of Isaac’s hands to the other, narrowly missing Max. He didn’t seem to notice. Isaac took a deep breath, trying to steady himself for… CPR, maybe, or at least the best he could do from what he’d seen on TV. He was pretty sure he could do the heart pumping part, and maybe even off-brand defibrillation; he wasn’t so sure about the breathing thing. But, wait: breath was wind, wasn’t it? It was kind of a stretch, but—crud, he was so freaking stupid. 

Hands occupied, he pursed his lips and inhaled sharply like sucking through a straw, trying to force a tiny gust of wind up through Max’s windpipe. He almost didn’t notice the little freed glob of spit and mud splattering on his cheek, overwhelmed by the sound of Max finally taking a long, rasping inhale. The white-knuckle grip on both his shoulders didn’t release for the span of a few more heaving coughs. For completely different reasons than before, he almost lost control of the bubble again when Max finally sagged forwards, letting his forehead drop onto Isaac’s shoulder. 

“Uh,” Isaac tried, swallowing hard. The temptation to squeeze Max like a teddy and cry was sudden and almost overpowering. He settled for tentatively lowering one arm to pat Max on the back. “You okay?” 

“Ughh,” Max groaned hoarsely. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Flippin’... heck.” 

“Yeah,” Isaac agreed dumbly. 

They stood like that for a while. It was really hard to focus on keeping the air swirling at a constant speed so the bubble didn’t break up. Maybe that was a blessing in disguise, since it also kept Isaac from focusing too much on whatever had just happened and whatever was currently still happening. He continued rubbing small circles into Max’s back, almost succeeding at breathing with a normal rhythm. 

“So.” Max finally retreated. “I’m still stuck.” 

“Oh. Right.” Isaac pursed his lips, trying (and failing) to keep his cool. Max bent down to pull at the slimy pond gunk his ankle had gotten wrapped in. After watching his trembling fingers struggle to tear through the mess of weeds and roots, Isaac crouched down to get a closer look and offer whatever assistance he could with his free hand. Maybe he’d moved too quickly, because he almost fell back on his butt—he was kinda dizzy for some reason. The adrenaline high and recycled air, probably. 

Something vaguely shiny mixed up in the gunk snared around Max’s ankle caught his eye, and his anger lent him a moment of clarity. “Is this… fishing line?” It was one thing to almost die during an epic battle with a hydra monster, but drowning because some dumb, lazy jerk littered? That was unforgivable.

“Mmyep. I’m guessing you don’t have a pocket knife or anything, being a pacifist,” Max grumbled. 

“I’m not technically a—no,” Isaac huffed. “I don’t. But maybe we can… uh…” He had the brief mental image of trying to bite it off Max’s ankle, but immediately shook that idea out of his head. He had to pull their bubble back down after that, as it had started to rise up past Max’s knees. 

“Alright. Cool. Good,” Max huffed, still trying to work his jittery fingers under the tightly knotted material. “I mean, I gotta say, I’ve never sympathized much with the whole vegan cause before, given that you all seem like some kinda weird extremists, but now that I’ve had the full immersive experience of being a pitiable sea animal trapped by, uh, man’s carbon waste ‘n’ junk, I can respect your whole eco footprint gig. Not that I’m giving up cheese or pepperoni or whatever any time soon. Rrgh.” He paused to shake his hands out, clearly frustrated. 

Isaac cracked a smile at that. “You can be the guest of honor at our next Pro-Earth Vegan Agenda meeting. Here.” He formed a jagged icicle and slipped it between Max’s skin and the twine. “Sorry… I’ll try not to hurt you, but this is, uh. Probably pretty cold and sharp.” 

“Thanks. I noticed,” Max deadpanned. 

It was difficult with one hand. Isaac winced more than Max did every time he nicked him with the sharp edge of the ice, but it was working. Finally, the last stubborn piece of twine snapped. Max kicked his feet behind him a few times, making sure he was free and probably trying to return some circulation to his feet. Isaac let the ice fizzle away and stood. 

“Are you alright to swim out of here?” Isaac asked, peering up at their warped reflections on the underside of the surface of the lake. 

“What, you don’t wanna wade through the muck together like this? It’s like a really low-budget aquarium,” Max objected mildly. 

Isaac squinted at him. Max’s poorly cobbled-together lackadaisical airs broke apart much quicker than usual under the mild scrutiny. He ducked his head, scratching his hairline like he wanted to pull his cap down. “Uh. I mean…” Max shucked off his backpack. “Turns out it’s kinda hard to swim with all this scrap. I guess I could just leave this here, though. If you’re not gonna call the vegan cops on me for littering or whatever.” 

Oh. That explained how he’d ended up down here in the first place—or, it made more sense than imagining the hydrator grinding him down into the gook like an overzealous kid squashing a spider. “I could probably carry that for you, if you want me to. Or you might be able to launch it up to shore by using your tool,” he pointed out. 

Max held his backpack out at arm’s length, positioning his bat underneath it at an angle. “Welp. I’ll take door number two, ‘cuz I’m not in the mood for an instant replay if you get stuck.” Abruptly, the backpack rocketed out of Max’s grasp and broke through the water above them, arcing through the air and out of sight. “Sorry, Mr. Spender; the magnets ate my homework,” he muttered. 

“I’m gonna let go of the bubble,” Isaac warned. “You ready?” 

Max held up one hand. “Wait.” He wrung the handle of his bat in his hands, looking away and heaving a few deep breaths before squaring his shoulders and nodding. “...Yeah, okay.” 

Isaac swam slowly to keep pace with Max, who was obviously capable of swimming but somewhat hindered by the unwieldy weight of his tool. They broke the surface together, spitting and blinking the lakewater away. The hydrator was gone. The air was clear, and the colors of the evening sky lit the lake with a rosy hue from above. 

“Isaaaac?” Spender’s worried voice called out from somewhere over by the treeline. “Maaax??” 

“Over here!” Isaac shouted, kicking up a little higher in the water for a second to wave a hand before resuming the swim to the shore. Isabel must have heard him; he could hear her shouting for the others over the splashing of water, and soon enough the whole group was happily reunited on soggy land. 

Isabel immediately wrapped one arm around each of them, to Max’s wriggly, grumbly annoyance and Isaac’s secret delight. “Guys! You’re alive!” She declared, squeezing them both. “We did it! Team Activity Club for the win!!” 

“I toldja that was Max’s backpack flyin’ up out of the lake o’er yonder,” Ed grinned as Max twisted out of Isabel’s grasp. Isaac ducked to follow suit, abashed but much more reluctant to relinquish the attention.

Spender was still struggling to catch his breath from jogging over. “I’m so sorry, kids, I should’ve… ah, well… are either of you hurt? What on earth happened, where were you?” 

“Uh, we were… in the lake…?” Isaac side-eyed Max, at a loss for how to describe what they’d just been through. 

“Isaac is certifiably cool now,” Max announced, crossing his arms. “I’m promoting him as the executive manager of cool in this club. All other opinions are invalid. No, I will not be taking questions.” Maintaining a perfectly straight face, he shot Isaac a decisive nod and a wink. 

“Um. Come again?” Spender tried, but everyone pretty much ignored him. 

“Congratulations, kid,” Ed offered, clapping Isaac on the back in a grandfatherly way. 

Isaac blinked, belatedly hiding his big dumb grin and flushed cheeks with a hand. “Oh... thanks.” 

After reclaiming Max’s cap and backpack, the group wearily made their way back to Spender’s car, original mission abandoned. It was a relief to call it quits early, but it almost felt… anticlimactic, after everything that had happened. Surreal, maybe.

At least—it did until the car pulled up to the Corner Store. Before getting out, Max leaned over to bump Isaac’s shoulder with his own, smiling and nodding before quickly looking away and pulling down the brim of his cap. “Hey, man. Thanks for the save back there. Gotta admit, that was pretty cool,” he offered in a low tone. 

“Oh,” Isaac managed breathlessly, mindlessly bunching up the hem of his damp shirt in his fists. “Thank you. Uh, I mean. Yeah. Anytime.” 

Max glanced back one last time as he stepped out, smirking and tapping the rim of his cap like a salute. “Sure. See you tomorrow, Isaac.” 

He wasn’t able to pull himself together enough to answer before his new friend had already closed the heavy car door and left, but it didn’t matter. That sweet, giddy feeling stuck with him all the way home. 

----

a/n epilogue: 

Isabel forgot the tooled-up Hydrator (a soggy shopping receipt) in her pocket and sent it through the wash where it disintegrated, so now her washing machine is possessed and occasionally spits water everywhere or tries to nom Spender.

Spender cried all the way home because the kids got so much mud in his pretty car.

Isaac and Max started to hang out outside of club time and watch dorky sporty/action cartoons while both fervently pretending not to enjoy it.

Ed was Ed. ('nuff said). 

(thanks for reading!!! <3)

[scoutdoesstuff]

time for more catch up posts! from my queue, which i've hopefully set up correctly.

this is day eighteen of my tea prompts challenge! i decided to do another sam POV deal and this one got ... introspective. which i guess is my default value for sam-centric stuff. today's flavor is arabica chai.

“The fuck — this isn’t coffee!” Dean leaned away from the Impala to spit out the tea.

“You said you’d take anything as long as it came from the coffee plant,” Sam said, actual cup of coffee cradled in his hands and a safe six feet away from his brother.

“Sammy!”

Sam giggled and got in the Impala. Dean wrenched the driver’s side door open and stuck his head in the car. “From the coffee plant implies coffee! This is tea!”

“It’s arabica tea, from the arabica plant which makes coffee beans. Sometimes it’s called arabica chai, if you’re a snooty barista,” Sam said, the last part mostly to himself. She’d been really pretty, with gorgeous looping tattoos around her arms and a septum ring. She’d laughed at Sam’s joke, egged him on to buy something goofy for his brother. A few years ago, he would’ve stayed for an hour longer, chatted with her, maybe even planned to keep the number he knows is written on the inside of his coffee cup sleeve.

Things were different, after Ruby. Trust was hard, in himself and in others.

Dean poked his arm and Sam flinched back into the present. Dean didn’t pull his hand away and Sam used the stability of his brother to ground himself.

“Doubloon for your thoughts?” Dean asked, eyebrows waggling, hamming it up as much as possible.

They were on Ocracoke Island, just off the shore of North Carolina, trying to track down what appears to be an actual haunting by Edward Teach. Dean was beside himself with pirate puns. They were doing a tour of the island’s tourist traps while they looked for evidence that there was an actual haunting. Right now, it felt like this could be a bust, like someone was trying to drum up the tourist trade after a particularly hard hurricane season, but they were also having fun so Sam wasn’t sure if he cares either way.

He couldn’t remember the last time he and Dean just fucked around for a few days, played pranks on each other, and saw weird tourist shit that you can only find if your whole life was a road trip. It’d been nice, so nice that it hurt sometimes. Sam doesn’t know what to do with that feeling. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that he’d became someone who flinched when he felt good. It’s not a masochist thing, he knew that much. It was like he’d forgotten how to feel happy sometimes.

Hell has an incredible way of rewiring your head.

Sam had been quiet long enough that Dean’s face tipped into worried, or more worried than he usually was about Sam these days.

“The barista was pretty,” Sam blurted out, desperate to make the divot between Dean’s eyebrows go away.

“You get her number, Casanova?” Dean said, titling his head just slightly to the left and fluttering his eyelashes.

Sam worked the sleeve off of his coffee cup and showed Dean the inside of it, trying not to smile. He wasn’t gonna call her. Dean hooted and fired up the Impala’s engine anyway.

They drove for a while. The island was only so big, so they circled it twice, trying to pick up some sign of a haunting. The locals were either annoyed at talking to what were clearly tourists or were way too excited to them about the the spoooooky haunting that’s terrified their neighbors.

They stopped around four, fed up with shitty leads and increasingly frustrating conversations. Dean idled the Impala by a stop sign, eyes sightless through the windshield. Sam waited, let his brother sort out whatever was going through his head.

Dean eventually swallowed hard, looked slightly to his right to address the window behind Sam’s head. “Do you wanna go to the beach?”

Dean was in his thirties, Sam his late twenties. Neither of them had ever been. John had called it a waste of time when they were growing up and there hadn’t been time in the last few years.

“One of the guy’s I talked to said there was a sort of private place off Highway 12 we could go to. Might requires some hiking so I don’t know if you want to — I mean it’s fine —“ Dean kept rambling.

“Yeah,” Sam said, suddenly weirdly emotional. “Yeah, I wanna go to the beach.”

They picked up sandwiches, a bag of chips, and a six pack on their way out of town. The drive wasn’t long, just a few minutes, and then Dean pulled off the highway.

“Can’t get over how fucking tiny this place is,” Dean said, grunting as they wrestled a cheap blanket and their food out of the Impala. “Used to having the whole forty eight at my disposal. I have no idea what to do with some place that I get from one end to the other in less than thirty minutes.”

“You’re pissed about the bike traffic,” Sam said, only slightly teasing.

“It’s weird to live someplace where you can get everywhere by bike!” Dean shouted over his shoulder as he hustled across the highway towards a poorly marked trail.

It took them a minute to hike towards the beach through surprisingly dense bushes. They’d both ditched their outer layers by the time they reached the dune. Sam almost lost the sandwiches in their scramble up and over the loose hill of sand.

It was worth it when they got to the top, though. The ocean spread out as far as they could see, a dark, deep blue dotted with fluffy, white wave caps close to the shore. The beach was a warm, light brown that turned to an deeper, earthy brown the closer it go to the waves. Birds scuttled to and fro around the waves, trying to catch shellfish left exposed by the retreating water before they could bury themselves under the sand.

Sam and Dean stared out at the expanse. It wasn’t a white beach with perfect blue water, but it was real and it was theirs and there was no else on the beach to watch two grown ass men get maybe a little too emotional at seeing a beach.

They raced each other down the beach, shoving at each other hard enough that they both almost went ass over teakettle a couple of times. They left their food hidden in the Impala’s old cooler on top of their towel, tore their socks and shoes off, and sprinted into the waves, wading in up to their knees.

Dean kicked water at Sam, spraying him with surf and then it was on. They both wound up completely drenched, chucking handfuls of sand at each other and laughing like children. It was the best day Sam had had topside since he went to hell. It honestly might’ve been the best day he’d had since he left Stanford, if he was honest. It felt like healing was supposed to feel, especially when he and Dean got tired of throwing water and sand at each other and settled on their towel to eat.

They ate like men starved and finished off a beer a piece within a few minutes.

Then Sam squinted and stared off in the distance.

There was a man walking out of the waves, towards them. Sam put down his beer and poked Dean, who was rummaging around their blanket for the bag of chips.

Dean grunted, annoyed at being pulled away from scavenging for food, and followed Sam’s finger.

The man, and it did appear to be a man, walked out of the waves. He was dressed in clothes from the wrong century that were dirty and waterlogged. That wasn’t really the concerning part, though. The real issue was that he was holding his own head by its hair in his left hand.

Dean squealed, startling Sam out of his horror filled staring.

“Sammy, it’s Blackbeard!”

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

It was a long run back to the Impala to get their guns.

[pukehina]

😳 - No other word for it!!!

Hey Vomit Lady

You - and your 455 sock accounts - just could not help yourself, huh?

Look. I have lived all my life just about 10.000 miles away from your home. And the farthest I made it East is Vietnam (unlike you, I have had the joy of visiting about 50 countries of this planet - but this is not a pissing contest, you know). Doubt it helps.

My knowledge about your home country is, at best, politely limited by time and life experience. And unlike you, I never professed to know 'all and everything'. There are many things I do not know. Algebra. Quantum physics. Dentistry. Car spare parts. I could go on for hours, you see. But I'd be losing my flight (you are not worth it) and I could not let this insult pass unanswered.

What do you know about my country, madam and what exactly gives you the moral upper hand to call us liars and idiots and fools?

If you want to share anything with anyone, try to do it with the same joy it was shared with you. I suspected it could be a Maori name, but to be honest, Vomit Lady perfectly applies to your complete lack of manners in this fandom. As such, it will remain unchanged, unless you choose to behave as a polite person.

I am sorry, Mrs. Small Tree on the Hill. In here, you are but a bully. Nothing more. And make no mistake: after this acknowledgement of your existence, I shall not answer your trash - either the one you sign or the one you send via Anon to Moo.

I also hope your real life self is not this online persona you peddle around. Your online persona is just tremendously sad and irrationally angry.

Oh, and: I only speak, read and write in about 7 languages. I am very sorry your native one is not among them

TALK ABOUT PRETENTIOUS

OMG...What an absolute hoot!! I mean fancy the expert in chastising and being a bitter bully towards all and sundry forgetting to check her own backyard. Guess what .. that prickling sensation is called 'getting under your skin' and being called out on your verbal diarrhea and load of bollocks.

I definitely have the right of reply and got tired of your blathering as on more than one occasion you and your cronies made sad and pathetic attempts at belittling for shits and giggles 'Puke' which was taken out of context even though I tried to educate but the vomit analogies continued.

NB: It appears you need to look up the word instigator'... and ‘suck it up princess’ about who just set the tone! Churlish and childish much!!!

sgiandubh said: @lovejustlove - LOL, but.. but... it immediately hit a nerve with Vomit Lady (pukehina - I swear to God, who the fuck chooses puke as a handle?) across the street

lovejustlove said: @sgiandubh OMG! I don't even know who that is but seriously? For fucks sake...of all the names to choose from 🤮😂

happysunnyyellowlove. @sgiandubh That blog name though! 😳🫣🙄🤣

happysunnyyellowlove @pukehina Thanks for the language lesson. Have a wonderful day.    Posted 31/10 so you and your minions had been enlightened ....

So certainly ironic to call out someone's manners and be derogatory to their persona without even knowing them but assumptions and lies are your forte!!

I see no relevance in your travel diary or your purported language acumen but why weirdly throw in 'unlike you'??? Have you a crystal ball or do you just adlib your fantasies in to every scenario.

Anyhoo my chopper has arrived… see us Kiwis can fly!! Chur - blockety, block, block

Haere Ra 🥝😁

[the-firebird69]

There are a few more things I'd like to say we have kit cars coming out of our ears no we don't we need people to volunteer for the service we have some and they say we need a lot more we have captains for each project if you want to sign on to a certain one please sign up to see who the captain is and you might be able to Captain the same projects under the captain in your area we have thousands of these and they're very serious and we are putting them out there people start making it and you would be intercepting calls for orders we usually that are above and beyond what they can do and most of the time it's all day long and on the computer too and we're building more or less the same thing it's a little bit of quality is faster but it'll be really hard to tell eventually we start building the real thing and we use their name in vain and they're likeness. Really it's a slick system it's really working well and yeah we're doing it with Rolls-Royce Ferrari Porsche lotus Lamborghini BMW and many more and we're going to start doing it with regular automobiles and we need to hire tons of people right now tons and it's all remote viewing unless you're on planet and it's a way out

-we do request you talk to your Co it's important before signing on to anything

-we're in the seat of other items to speak of and I did have a list and I'm going to go over that after we are at war right now with a lot of the people walking around and it's because they're trying to go after what they consider our areas they started screaming and yelling and hooting because they tried to go in and we're wiped out so it doesn't fit and he can't really see what's happening so we're not really sure why they're doing that. And the game is going their way but it's on TV and it's football or something and they're pretty much going to take him in the nose because of that s***. It's not too many groups they're trying so see Trump and we are going to reprise tell him not to and in those areas some of them are going to take

-there's also a huge number of people wandering around with nothing to do all day and their pests and very annoying and they have jobs and they're not doing them and they have armies and they don't run them and they don't have any good excuse or just lazy as hell literally they're not doing a damn thing just bothering my husband what a pain in the ass so I'm putting that up there

-there are a few more things we're going to post and they want me to I'd like to we have a bunch of styles leadership styles character these people are trying to play on it constantly and he's getting berated all the time he can't get through a paragraph for a sentence without somebody doing something stupid and we need to have many more people here to take care of it

-we have an answer so we're going to get to it right now fort Lauderdale is a mess and people are at the hospital slowly they are at the hospitals and the platinum and gold silver white gold and other precious metals and by the truckload it's there's millions of tons in those hospital areas and they're being trucked out on the ground huge huge amounts of it and there's a war there all over the world. And here in Florida there's a massive floor and tons of people have gathered information on the hospitals and they're going after them with gusto it is a huge day they say that 75% of the hospitals are thoroughly engaged and they're 25% are engaged in Shelby momentarily I will take a while to clear them out from below and inside the hospital itself many of these hospitals are going to be ripped apart it's in the walls and the gross places they're not really places of healing anymore and people been doing surgeries and it's gotten really gross there we have to stop them and this is a start there are similar buildings and he says we're to put together emergency construction crews immediately and to set up emergency hospitals and we'll put beds in whatever rooms there are and renovate as we can and we want to have a good number of them so we have control and we own hospital companies I'm going to put it in now they have the idea but we have to do it as an emergency triage and ER and we're going to go in and take all the equipment from the hospitals as they get raided and Thor and Freya liked your idea and they're moving right now and we have selected a lot of buildings

-there's several other things happening one of them is the cities are in boiled the services other than the hospital that are very important and it's temporary shelter assistance and things like that we're sending about emergency buildings and we're handing out flyers and we're even putting signs up the direct people to it and it is regarding social security too it's very important and we're getting these office buildings going right now

It's going to publish because this is huge the hospital metals and other and there's tons of stuff there they found stashes and caches huge atrocities by clones mostly are Chuck full of stuff probably 90% is still left there and a big huge trucks are down there trying to take most of it

Hera

Zues

Olympus

[nataliesnews]

Subject: All quiet on the protest front? breakfast in the park and sundries

---------- Forwarded message --------- From: Natalie Ginsburg <natanyag@gmail.com> Date: Mon, Jan 30, 2023 at 8:44 AM Subject: All quiet on the protest front? breakfast in the park and sundries To:

 In spite of my apprehensions about the demonstration on the bridge on Saturday all was quiet. People hooted in support. Quite a few feeling otherwise, stopped their cars and spat...but nothing more. But I always watch carefully as I remember how Gershon Baskin was attacked here in Jerusalem three years ago....and that his attacker got off. But the others also felt as I did as when we arrived, I said to them that we should stand more closely to one another than spread out along the bridge as we normally do and they agreed.  Also we phoned the local police station and asked that they send a car to be in the area which they did. Here am I with my sign, sitting comfortably in my chair with my feet helping to keep my sign upt.

 \

 I went to the demonstration here in Jerusalem instead of Tel Aviv and was sorry that I had done so. It turned into a prayer vigil for those Jews killed on Friday. Don't get me wrong. It is  horrible. But there is not one word about the occupation in their posts. I go for a democratic Israel and where there is occupation there is no democracy. I also stand for the Palestinians who are killed. Not for the terrorists....but, for example, the woman who was killed in her kitchen during the Jenin raid. In her kitchen? Surely it must have been a direct aim at her. What about all those injured? And,  unfortunately I don't believe most of the information we are given by the army. I stand for a 13 year old. His grandfather was stabbed to death by a supporter of Ben Gvir in 1998. One of his friends was killed by the army two weeks ago. Then Jenin. the daily attacks by the settlers and, yes, there are daily attacks. Two houses burnt this week by settlers in the villages. None of this on the news. The hopelessness and anger he must have felt. Do we really think that the Palestinians will turn the other cheek?

 Free Jerusalem did not go to the demonstration on Friday night because the organizers said they would only stand in silence for Jews. So last night in the city there was a demonstration and a minor march near the residence of Netanyahu. There were police walking alongside us the entire march and even when we began to disperse, maybe 100 people. Gioia, whom I write about below, watched on facebook and sent me a picture of myself walking. 

 On a happier note I had a lovely picnic with a couple and their children. They are from Italy and he works for the UN. I met Gioia at a demonstration. So we had a picnic at Yad Kennedy. They have three kids who are so warm and friendly. Besides other meats she had brought the best lamb chops I have had in years. She knows I love them. 

 But the day was a mixture of Israel. There was a group of young Arabs who had bicycles provided and on the other side a group of young people. We were not sure who they were and why. I thought it was a group of young Israeli exercising before they would go into the army. Afterwards I found out that they were a group of French youngsters on a birthright visit to Israel or something like that.

 But the more I watched, the more it upset me. At first they were just exercising. Then I saw that they had rifles......whether real or whatever I don't know. They were trained how to stand, to shoot, to kneel, to shoot at a moving target.

    I know exactly what the mindset is. How many of them will actually come to Israel one day I don't know but they are obviously being trained to see Palestinians only as their enemies. I am sure that they find it very exciting. That they they just see the glory of war and bearing arms.   I wonder how much they are exposed to the other side of the story. I doubt that anyone from the left ever speaks to them. No, I did not go to speak to the organisers. I was enjoying the day and did not want this scene to change my good feeling.

 But what was amusing.....two youngsters came up to us. Evidently they had been  provided with sandwiches and there was mayonnaise on the sandwiches which the boy could not eat. But they saw that we were barbecuing and came to ask if he could get something for us to eat. Gioia immediately gave him some of the barbecue but I heard her saying to them that they are Christians. But she assured them that it was no pork and the question of kashrut did not seem to bother them and they went off with food which I am sure the others envied....much better than sandwiches.

 In Jerusalem there is a library which has separate hours for girls and boys...this is what is happening here.

And I saw this picture of a bridal shop in one of the arab countries which I am sure Smokovic  and Ben Gvir would love to have adopted here.

  And on that modest note

 ferable

[wytfut]

ROW (right of way)

Back in the late 70′s I just happened to bury the telephone line to my current home as an employee of Lincoln Hoot and Hollar (LTT). I remember the foreman having a tizzy with the engineer who wrote up the job, as the “right of ways” were all screwed up, and we didn’t know where to place the line. Who knew I’d eventually own the place.

We purchased this place in 1988. 

Thats relatable to the current time line.

Right next to my property is a house (that wasn’t there in the 1970′s), built with no building permit, pretty much built right on top of a natural gas transport line (30″). 

Its a nice brick ranch home.... but built under the radar of government noses in the mid 1980′s and I’m guessing the gas company.

The building permit is one thing.... but building this home less than 30′ from the gas line is eye opening. They got it built without the gas company knowing about it, or there was an agreement signed... I really don’t know. But I suspect, the gas company was not happy at all. 

This gas line was placed from what i understand in the 30′s.

On this pipeline, on my neighbors property were 2 “farm taps”. One for my house, and one for the house out in front (service lines off of meters to our homes). My neighbors newer brick home was all electric. This is all ironic or at least humorous. 

Natural gas has no smell. But for natural gas to be excepted/purchased into a house, it had to smell (for the customer to be able tell if there was a leak).

One of the many jobs of the gas company was to regularly attach a brand new bottle of “STINK” to the farm tap at the meter. Its a very strong Sulphur smell. 

Notoriously, when the gas company would attach a new bottle of “STINK”  at the meter, they would naturally spill some on the ground.

The folks who built the house were gone when we moved in... and our new neighbors to be fair are “dink”s  (dual income no kids). As they don’t like neighbors, or being social, and no outside influences.... Their narrowed life partially consisted of calling the gas company regularly to report a “leak”  (smell from spilled “STINK”). This was the process for quite a few years.

That stink was horrible most of the time.... we could smell it all the way to our house. Sometimes much worse than others.  

Same neighbor decided to put up a large pole shed for his car collection, and hit our service line from his property to ours. Actually twice, both times they were very embarrassed, and couldn’t apologize enough. (hitting utilities from digging events was nothing new to me). I’m a little fuzzy on this piece of time, but Its close enough.

The second time the Gas company came out to repair my service, they “red tagged” it as unsafe/condemned. Well it was placed back in the 30′s.... kind of makes sense.

I went an bought a roll of plastic gas line, some splices, and rented a yard plow to place the line from my neighbors to our home. 

I got it placed and had the local plumber hook it all up. 

About a month later, I got a call from a gas company engineer. “Mr. Whitefoot!... how’d you like to have a brand new service line to your house from the City of Waverly’s main???”        Seriously? ... I just spent $200 on materials, labor and rental for my gas line.... a month ago, and now your want to put in another new one?    Why don’t you guys know this, you condemned my line? 

I said no, unless they would reimburse me for my costs of the first “new” one. Nope, they wouldn’t do that.

So there was some under the table discussion with my 2 neighbors, and the next thing I knew, I was getting a new service line attached to the city of Waverly. Turns out, my neighbors went and paid me thru the gas company for reimbursement of my time and costs. 

$200 isn’t anything today. But then, we were single income, with 3 boys.... that money was big money then to us. I was happy, but embarrassed, and humbled all at the same time. Trying to get my dig in with the gas company, and ended up feeling bad about my neighbors.

Some time in here (1990?).... Our neighboring farm field to the north, had sold to become a subdivision. There was lots of discussing, and head scratching, what to do about this gas line running right thru the middle of it. Final decision was that there would be a green area established thru the neighborhood, that would be the gas companies ROW, but the home owners or HOA would maintain. All the yards would abut up to this green area.

There was also some thoughts of building the new high school on this piece of property, and the gas line would be placed in a tunnel under the school.

None the less, the gas company decided that they would replace the pipe, since it was aged, from south of my property at I80 ROW all the way to high way 6 ROW. The gas company called this project “the million dollar mile”.

Yes, they went right thru my neighbors property. This would be the main part of their drive way parallel to route. They could reach out their kitchen window and just about touch the heavy equipment operating in their yard, well maybe not, but in theory, it was right there.

As “dink”s, their yard was always perfect. They had a hard time with this. But excepted it all.

It was roughly a year or 2 later (1994), I got another call from the gas company. They called to inform me (and anyone within reasonable distance to their transport line), to let them know, they were going to abandoned and remove this “old” line.

I said.... “Sir, you do realize that you folks just replaced all of this line for 1 mile not 2 years ago??”     .....   “uh no, I didn’t”

It sounded like this was going to be abandoned as an idea, as every farm, acreage, home along the route of this gas line (this is not acceptable practice anymore) had a “farm tap” on that line. This transport line ran for miles... guessing 100+. Lots of folks were going to have to find a new source for heating their homes, most likely have to buy a new furnace. 

I kept receiving odd paper work in the mail referring to that gas line and possibly removal for years. 

Last year, a contractor came thru and removed all of the accessible parts of the transport gas line running north and south .   I saw them coming a week or 2 before, thinking they were going to go thru my neighbors property again. Neighbors got lucky, as the gas company didn’t want to pay for property restorations of nice yards....   

Long piece of history with gas lines .....   and real head scratching...  I realize I’m one customer of a huge company. 

But in my opinion, the days of when large businesses knew their customers are gone. They don’t realize how they trample all over everyone, to make a buck, and don’t care if they keep a customer. It has nothing to do with some bad for the benefit of the majority. 

They get so big that they cannot communicate with themselves. As shown above several times.

Sounds like a grumpy old man to me....

[fancydonutqueen]

California was such a hoot for my family that we HAD to go back.

So, the next summer, we jammed ourselves into the van once more and headed out to Yosemite.

To be honest, I didn't really know what Yosemite was. Going into it, I had little to no expectations. But I was in for a pleasant surprise!

This was probably my favorite vacation that I took as a child. Looking back, it’s clear that a good vacation doesn’t require a lot of money or luxury.

Just being in nature felt transcendental. The park was even more marvellous than the man made wonders of Disneyland. 

We went hiking, swimming, explored caves, and relaxed in nature. It was the most isolated from urban civilization that I’ve been, and I enjoyed it. 

We spent the nights huddled around a small fire - not too big, because its still California and it doesn't get super cold at night.

I remember the relaxing sound of wood crackling, the smell of fire smoke mixing with the cool air, the wind blowing through the trees, the faint sound of crickets chirping, the flow of a calm river, and the beautiful sound of birds singing.

I think that the soundscape of Yosemite is equally as important as its visual beauty. Together, they combine to create the most relaxing place that I've ever been.

Now, for a juxtaposition: before driving back to Canada, we spent a couple nights in Las Vegas.

While Yosemite is an environmental heaven, Las Vegas is a concrete urban hell.

I think that Vegas is Disneyland for adults. Gambling, drinking, prostitution; basically every vice is readily available and encouraged!

It’s the entire business model of Las Vegas. Sadly, I was too young to revel in it. Seeing naked people dancing on the street did nothing for me, and I couldn’t stand the smell of tobacco everywhere we went. 

I wouldn't say it was corrupting to view my parents drinking and gambling, but it was definitely eye opening for me as a child.

For a second, I saw them as people existing by themselves - not just as my parents, if that makes sense.

This also made me see MYSELF as an individual, and not just the son of my parents.

This distinction becomes a lot more prominent as you get older. It eventually reaches a point where you grow into your own person and gain some sense of autonomy. You stop being a child.

However, it didn't reach that point for me just yet. It was a fleeting thought, and shortly after, I returned to my childlike psyche.

The car ride back had me reminiscing about Yosemite, thinking about my parents, and dreading the start of school.

The trip helped me learn more about myself. I realized how much I disliked Vegas, and how much I enjoyed being in nature.

And vitally, it was the first time I can remember distinctly thinking about myself and my identity, which is a telltale sign that your childhood is nearing its end.

[ciaomichaella]

Finally got to meet Benjo, one of the Curling Pilipinas OGs at the Hollywood Summer Blockbuster #Bonspiel this weekend. We had to get a #FilipinoCurlers pic w/ Clyde & Jen - hey that’s enough for a mixed team 😜 I really hope this is planting the seeds for future generations of Filipino descent to embrace curling. This is bigger than me and any of us involved w/ efforts currently. Keeping my fingers crossed for a bright future for the sport in the Philippines and across the world among Filipinos. I know I’ll never be good enough to compete internationally in a regular women’s team, but I look forward to when I’m old and good enough to compete at the senior level - I’ve added Senior Worlds to my bucket list 😬 . . It was nice to be back at the SCCC. I had fun even as a spectator. The celeb game was a hoot to watch, with the exception of a moment when someone fell and hit their head. And I was once again back to my trauma, my head legit hurt at that moment too… Bummed I was misinformed and got my hopes up about the silent auction, but while I still don’t have an Eriksson jersey, I did score a couple of items to add to my curling closet. And no, I did NOT bid on the rock signed by @teamniklasedin What am I gonna do w/ a rock?!? Plus all my recent health issues isn’t supportive of me even throwing stones as of late, much less carrying one even if it’s just to my car. But perhaps I should get a handle for them to sign next time I see them, whenever that may be #fangirlproblems . . 🥌💙💛🇸🇪🥌💙💛🇸🇪🥌💙💛🇸🇪 #PinayCurler #FilipinoCurler #curlingfangirl #fangirlcurling #ilovecurling #CurlingPilipinas #letsmakegranitefly #curling #sports #wintersports #growththegame #growthesport #sweep #curlsandiego #occurling #curlingrocks #hurryhard #definitelynotswedish #HardlineNation #itsalotharderthanitlooks #isweptwithyourwife #skipscansweep #goatniklasedin #fireballers #ChangeTheFaceOfCurling 🥌💙💛🇸🇪🥌💙💛🇸🇪🥌💙💛🇸🇪 https://www.instagram.com/p/CflKOvZuHDQ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=