#that doesn’t go outside the county and barely leaves towns

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

They will warn you about how much harder it is to keep friendships going after you graduate, but you will get cocky about it because “now we have the internet so that’s not a problem” that is your brain’s hubris. It’s is still hard to keep friendships alive as adults even with the help of the internet. Everybody has jobs or kids or school or medical problems and people move farther away and if you can’t drive it’s even harder. Then someone dies and it gets really complicated. You can make internet friends and that’s great but you probably won’t ever meet in person and so you will just be stuck with social media and maybe the phone as your tethers to friendships. It sucks and probably wasn’t an issue when everyone lived in villages and met up at church or the town grocery store but we don’t anymore, even IN small towns, and many young people just want to get away from those places for a variety of reasons. Sometimes even just moving to a slightly bigger town with TWO grocery stores. Everyone moving makes it even harder to meet up and if you don’t have a car and or can’t drive then fuck you I guess. I’m sure that friendships made in big cities come with their own extra/different problems. But everything is so hard so much

[deathbecomesthem]

You Can't Go Home Again

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 8.1K Words

Hawkins, Indiana - 2006. Reader and Eddie are both 40. The Reader has a 19 year old daughter that is mentioned.

Summary: You're both in town for a funeral. This is a love story.

Contains smut, death, love, booze, and weed. Just like all the best things in life, you take the good with the bad or your ass misses out.

+18 only. No one under the age of 18 has my consent to interact with anything on my blog. I am old enough to be your mother.

If you like this story, please let me know. Reblogs are strongly encouraged. If it doesn't get passed around, it dies in this spot. Thank you @jo-harrington and @br0ck-eddie for reading this over and telling me it's worth publishing on this blog. I love you both more than words can express.

---

You can’t go home again. Or so you’ve been told. Yet here you are, zooming down the familiar stretch of highway that leads back to that place. You turn the thought over in your mind while your hand surfs against the wind outside of your car window. You aren’t going home, not really. Hawkins isn’t your home anymore. It hasn’t been since you pulled out of your parents’ driveway over a decade ago.

At least he had the common decency to die as the leaves started changing color, you think to yourself while your hand surfs in the wind outside your open window. The view is really spectacular. The trees look like they’re on fire as the sun begins to dip below the canopy. Indiana is flatland, but it’s still pretty in its own way. Wide open, it bares itself to you. It is what it is. There are no hills to hide behind. Not in these parts, anyway.

As you cross the county line, you flip on the radio and tune to the local country station. Might as well acclimate, you think, but really, you’re happy to hear Bonnie Raitt’s bluesy voice as you pull off the highway. She’s singing about how she can’t make someone love her, and you hold up an imaginary glass to toast the sentiment. That’s something you’ve learned the hard way.

I’ll close my eyes, then I won’t see.

The love you don’t feel when you’re holding me.

You don’t realize a tear has escaped your eye until you feel it rolling down your cheek. You wipe it away angrily and wonder when every little thing will stop making the tears come. It doesn’t matter, not right now. Not this week. Tears are appropriate for a funeral, and it’s what everyone will expect to see from you. Even if they’re borrowed tears.

At the stop sign at the corner of Elm and Maple you sit longer than the 3 seconds required by law. It’s not until a BMW pulls up behind that you push up the indicator to hook a right. As you pass by the entrance to Forrest Hills, Deanna Carter is singing about Strawberry Wine and being 17. You can feel heat rising in your cheeks when you let your own memories flit across your mind. It’s true, the hot July moon really did see everything the summer of 1985. 

You chuckle at yourself and turn the wheel, left this time. The old motel is up on the right, just at the Hawkins line. You’ve spent too much of your life thinking about a time that only existed for a moment. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because despite all of the daydreams you’ve had about running into him throughout the years, it’s never happened. And you’ve never taken the time to look. You’ve only seen him in your dreams, and what a delight that’s been.

The gravel crunches under your tires, and the feeling that something’s been forgotten rises like a wave. Every couple of hours, it comes unbidden. No, you haven’t forgotten her, she’s in her new apartment on the other side of town from your own. Right now, she’s probably out to dinner with Janey. It’s discount movie night, and that’s something every college student knows to take advantage of. You’re not forgetting her, but her absence leaves a hole that can only be filled with anxiety. It’s something no one really tells you, something that you wouldn’t be able to understand from words alone - your children are a piece of yourself that moves freely in the world. The further you move from them, the deeper the cut. 

You’ve already decided you’ll try to call tonight, hoping against hope that she’s still at her place when you ring in. Hearing her voice will fill you a little, and maybe at least make sleep easier. Maddy told you she’d miss you, and you know that’s true. It’s a good thing to hear each other every day, even if it’s only for a moment.

When you come around a wide curve in the road, you’re pleased to see that the bar next to the motel is still standing, and that the lights are on. You’re getting drunk tonight. Why not? For the first time in a long time, you’re only accountable for yourself. Hawkins can swallow you up for the week, and no one outside of this place will see it. And then you’ll never step foot into Indiana again.

—

It’s stupid, and he knows it. He hasn’t been back here in years, and the only reason he’s doing this is because he liked the old guy. Wayne taught him to respect that. To show up for the family. Always go to the funeral, he’d told him, it eases the pain for the loved ones and makes ‘em remember there were people in the world that gave a shit about ‘em. When Eddie was a kid, he remembered how it felt to look out into the church and see so many faces with tears in their eyes. He remembered thinking that it was important that so many people turned out to say goodbye to his Mama, even if they were people that he never got to know outside of that mourning space. Wayne was right, it does matter. It does help. And he’s showing up, even if the thought of seeing you makes his stomach dip and his heartbeat faster. 

It’s not about you, you fucking idiot. The words have been surfacing in his mind over and over this last week. It’s not about him, and he knows that. At least, his brain knows that, but there’s a place deep inside of him that can’t help but think about the possibility of something. Of what? Well, if he thinks too hard about it, his dick takes over. There have been many times over the years that Eddie let his mind wander back to his 18th summer, when the heat of your bodies rivaled the heat of the sun beating down on the two of you. Many times he’s touched himself, trying to find the right way to move his fingers to replicate the way your hands felt on him. He’s ashamed of it. He tries not to think about it, but the news of the funeral seems to have lit that spark inside of him again, just as he thought the old smoldering embers were finally snuffed out.

He told Wayne he’d be driving up for the services, hoping the old guy would be able to bring the rambler to meet him in Hawkins. It would save him the cost of a motel room, and the death of the old man’s friend is an unwelcome reminder that everything comes to an end eventually. But Wayne isn’t going to make it. Eddie should’ve known. As much as Wayne taught him about being there for the family, Wayne was closer to Jim than his blood ever was. Especially you. Wayne would be the first to admit that Jim made his bed, and now he’ll spend his eternal rest in it. Wayne will mourn in his own way, he’ll come down when no one knows he’s there to pour one out on his buddy’s grave. That’s alright. It’s how Jim would want it. The funeral will be a farce. People saying goodbye to an old bastard that no one really liked.

When Eddie passes the southerly Indiana border, his ass really starts to get sore. He should’ve flown in and rented a car. He’s getting too old for these long bike rides, and the Indian’s seat isn’t made for this kind of trip. He’s never seen the need to replace the warehouse installed seat, his daily commutes to the construction trailer are short, and he takes a work truck out to the job sites. Maybe it’s time to think about investing in a vehicle that allows for a little more comfort. His ass is only going to spread more from here on out. Turning 30 was like hitting a brick wall, all the years of fun have finally caught up. Now that he’s passed the 40-year mark, every day is a new opportunity to feel aches in parts of his body he never thought about in his younger years. Sometimes he would swear that he could feel his small intestine groan when he caught a whiff of something greasy. And sometimes he can’t go through the night without having to hop out of bed to take a piss. The most obvious reminder for Eddie is looking in the mirror and seeing the way his old tattoos have turned gray over the years, especially his beloved bats. Working outside in the sun has made them fade, and no amount of touch ups can bring them back to their former glory. Sometimes he thinks about you running your fingers over them, the way you ran them along the outline of the wings. 

Time passes, and tattoos fade like memories. He knows too. He got to watch Wayne age, see the lines dig deeper and deeper into his face while he made sure Eddie kept a roof over his head. It’s amazing for him to think about the old guy, not really as old as he used to think. Eddie’s got more years than Wayne did back in those days. Close enough to be brothers more than father and son, but neither of them got a choice when it was time for his own Mama to go into the ground. The only one choosing in those days was Al, and every decision was a wrong one.

Eddie hates coming back to Hawkins, it stirs up the old shit he doesn’t think about anymore. It’s easier to see those times through rose colored glasses when he isn’t smack dab in the middle of the town that cut him so deeply in so many different ways. But he’s showing up. He’s doing this thing because it’s right. It has nothing to do with the minute possibility that he might get to find out how the years have treated you. Especially since he knows how you left Hawkins. But time does heal. Eddie’s proof of that.

—

The roadside motel is in better shape than you expect, so you strike your mental chalkboard on the pro side. At least you have a clean bed to sleep in for the next 6 nights. At least you won’t be forced to sleep on Uncle Jim’s couch. You think about what it will feel like being in his little shack. You think about how his own kids won’t show up to sift through his shit belongings to pull out any hidden treasures before the bank throws it all in the dumpster. You’re doing this thing for your father, because he asked you to. You need to make sure the stuff that ended up with Jim when your grandma died doesn’t get lost forever. No cash value to any of it, but it’s worth something to your dad, and he can’t face the ghost of his brother. Not even for his mother’s wedding band, or the family bible.

Your first thought when you opened the door to your home for the week was that you could still smell the faint scent of bleach hanging in the air. Good. These kinds of places have more personality, but it’s always a roll of the dice about cleanliness. The bed is soft, and the comforter smells of Snuggle. Also good. The scent is nostalgic, you can feel the muscles in your shoulders relax. You’ll be able to sleep here. You think that’s exactly what you’ll do. The heavy shades are drawn, so it’s full dark and quiet. You’ve got the room at that butts against the woods, but it doesn’t matter anyway, your car is the only one in the small parking lot tonight. 

You’re sinking deeper into the mattress, and you begin to float away. You sit on the edge of sleep, about to topple over it when your ears begin to register a distant sound growing closer. It’s a purr that grows into a deep growling rumble. You stumble to your feet to peek your head out from behind your curtain. It’s full dark now, but the orange glow of the lights at each door along the row of rooms illuminates the parking lot enough for you to see the bike and its rider. Leather clad, head to toe, he’s wearing a small bucket helmet - the kind your daddy used to say they’d have to scoop your brains out of if you wrecked - and sunglasses. You watch him make his way to the door next to your own and let himself inside. 

Well, you can think of a worse neighbor to have. At least you know you’re not alone out here. Maybe you’ll make a friend while you’re stuck in the hell that is Hawkins, Indiana. Maybe he'll let you bum a smoke or two.

—

You think about your call to Maddy while you walk down the street to the Hideout. She’s fine. All good. She got her new set of pots and pans from the big Sears out at the mall, and she didn't even need your help picking them out. Her dad did a good job. You’re happy for her. A girl doesn’t forget her first move away from home, and you suspect she's more nervous than she's been letting on. You can almost feel the butterflies beat in your own belly at the thought of rent checks and overtime while making it to class every morning. You hope she knows she can talk to you about it. You hope she remembers that you promised to help her if she gets into any jams. Maybe. Maybe not. She deserves to keep her secrets if it's how she wants to go about life. You'll be there either way.

Before you even open the door to the bar, you can smell the smoke and booze wafting through the cracks. That’s perfect. It’s why you’re here. You look down at your black jeans and smile. It took a few good jumps to get into, but your ass looks fantastic in them. You think you might even manage to get a drink out of someone, as long as the clientele is the same as it was when you were here last. Tammy Wynette is coming through the speakers of the jukebox, and the old curtains are pulled across the jury-rigged stage at the back. No band tonight. Just a couple of old drunks passing time at the sticky counter. You take the stool at the end, back facing the door, and think about what song you’ll choose for the room. 

“Hello, ma'am,” a bright eyed 20 something from behind the bar greets you as you shift your weight to get comfortable on the cracked cushion under your ass. Ma’am. You decide to let that one slide and give him a big smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Oh, I think I’d like a whiskey sour, kind sir.” The words escape your lips without much thought. You haven’t had one in ages. Possibly the last time you had a drink as sweet as a whiskey sour was in this very bar. It wasn’t hard to get served with Big Dave behind the bar, especially when Eddie and the boys played.

The boy nods at you and gets to work on your drink. You see him flip through a rolodex of cards hidden under the bar, cheat sheets. He likely spends his nights pouring pitchers of Budweiser, rarely having to figure out how to make mixed drinks. Especially when the customers are good ole boys between the ages of 35 and 70. Even back in your day, the girls only showed up when there were boys their own age on the stage. You wonder if Bev is around somewhere. If she’s still kicking.  The way the place still feels the same as it did back in '84 tells you she's still the owner of this shit stain of an establishment. But it's her shit stain, and good for her.

The bartender sets the glass in front of you with a cocktail napkin under it, fancy, and you feel a draft when the door at your back swings open. The drink isn’t bad, but you wouldn’t know if it was wrong. You don’t do mixed drinks. You’re a neat bourbon drinker. The sweet liquor does what it’s meant to, because you swear you can almost smell something familiar from the past as a figure goes past you. Like smoke and Old Spice with a hint of weed. This place is full of ghosts, you think, returning your focus back to glass coated in ice sweat.

“Hey, man. Three Wise Men and 3 fingers of Jim Beam.” The voice of the newcomer at the bar makes your head snap up. You watch his profile for a second. You see his hand disappear inside his jacket and come out with a pack of Camels. With a flick of his Zippo, his face is illuminated by the glow of the flame. You’ve seen it so many times, but even from this distance you catch sight of the creases that didn’t exist the last time you saw him. You wonder if you really did fall asleep if you’re really back in your motel room having one of your dreams again. The too sweet liquor on your tongue is real, and so must Eddie Munson be real.

You can’t peel your eyes from him, so you don’t try. You keep your gaze fixed to his face and wait for him to notice you. There are no words in you, and you’re afraid your legs will buckle if you try to stand up and walk over to him. You look at his hand, black lines decorate his knuckles. The ring on his left hand is silver, and you’re happy to see it sit on his middle finger. You banish the thought and break your gaze for a second to shake your stupid head.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie’s voice echoes through the room, and everyone looks at him, even the drunk in the corner that can barely keep his head up. “Jesus Christ.”

Blood rushes to your head as he stands and makes his way over to you. Your heart is in your throat. You’d refused to let yourself believe that seeing Eddie this week was anything more than just a fleeting fantasy. The same fantasy that’s been playing through your mind for years. Pinch yourself, you fool. Too late, you’re standing on wobbly legs and giving him the kind of awkward hug reserved for old classmates - and apparently old lovers.

You break apart slowly, and sink down into your barstools, eyes never breaking contact. You think if you look away right now, he might turn into smoke and escape through the air vents. Your hands are on your lap, body still turned towards Eddie, Eddie Munson, and you pinch the skin between your thumb and index finger on your left hand until it hurts. This is real.

You’re both brought out of your shared reverie when the kid behind the bar slides Eddie’s drinks down to his new spot, along with the ashtray holding his still smoldering cigarette. Without a thought in your head, you pick it up and take a long drag before pinching it between your fingers to hand it back to him, filter out.

“So.” You exhale smoke through the word and let it hang for a second while Eddie brings the filter to his lips. The smoke of a kiss between the two of you hangs heavy in the air. “Eddie Munson, what brings you here tonight? Is Corroded Coffing playing a set later?”

Eddie’s crooked grin sits on his lips the same as it ever has, but it’s complemented by more fine lines at the corners of his eyes. You think it would be something to run a finger along them and feel the texture of his skin there. 

“You know, I had this-” Eddie shakes his head and makes a noise like a huff of incredulity at what he hasn’t even said yet, “-I had this idea that I might see you here tonight. I’m sorry about Jim.”

“Oh,” you can’t hide the surprise on your face. The sudden presence of Eddie has scrubbed your mind clean of your purpose in Hawkins this week. Uncle Jim is dead. You try for a small frown, but decide against it and say, “yeah. I’m here for the funeral. Also, I promised my dad to go through the house before everything ends up at the dump.”

Eddie nods. His eyes dart across your face and then down to your hands. You’re suddenly very aware of the way your ring finger on your left hand still holds the indent of a band that’s been missing for months now. You think it may never truly leave you. You wonder if he’s seen it.

“Well, I think this is fate.” Eddie slaps his hand down on the bar, still as sticky as ever, and waves over the bartender that’s drying a glass with a bar towel. He turns back to you and says, “We’re drinking to that old bastard tonight.”

—

“Do you remember,” Eddie’s voice is too loud, but the only person left in the bar other than the two of you is a drunk with his head resting on the counter. He doesn’t seem bothered enough to lift his head, “breaking into the abandoned warehouse? Oh god, you were shaking like a leaf ‘Eddie, we should leave. What if someone’s hiding out in here?’” Eddie’s impersonation of your 18-year-old voice is both insulting and wildly inaccurate.

“You fucking asshole, you were the one that hauled ass out of there when a squirrel crawled out from under a desk. The noise you made,” you snort at the memory, “you sounded like my mom that time she found a dead mouse in her sugar dish.”

“That little fucker went straight for me, you can’t deny it.” Eddie’s finger is pointed directly between your eyes in an accusation. On instinct, you grab it with your fist and twist his arm. This is an old routine, one that the two of you had down pat all those years ago. Except now, Eddie’s a lot stronger, and he’s able to twist his arm back. You find your wrist in his strong grip, and you have no idea how it got there. 

This is when you notice it. This is Eddie in front of you, but he’s not a boy. It’s not just your body that’s changed since the last time you were together. With his jacket thrown on the stool beside him, his forearms are bare before you. Sinful. Old ink and new, black lines and gray. But right now, it’s the flexed muscle that’s caught your eye. Oh, to be held by him.

The laughter in your chest dies and Eddie releases you. He waves the bartender down before he can call out a last call. One more round for the road, and you’re wishing you had a way to freeze this moment in time and keep him here. 

But you can’t, so you take your final shots and hug each other. Jackets are thrown over shoulders, and you make your way side by side to the door. 

“I’m staying at the motel on the corner. You should stop by sometime, I’ll be here all week.” You shove your shoulder into Eddie’s playfully and find that the booze has made your feet a little unstable. He puts an arm around you to keep you from stumbling.

“Well, let me walk you home then.” His arm doesn’t leave your side. You’re both hyper aware of the way his thumb strokes against the patch of soft exposed skin at your waist while you wander up the sidewalk, a little zig zag to your movements. 

It’s been a night of sharing memories with no talk of the present. No acknowledgement of that indent on your finger where a ring lived for so long. You let yourself drink in the cool autumn air with Eddie’s arms holding you close to him. You let yourself feel held by him. You let yourself imagine that maybe this is real, and you let a sliver of moonlight pierce the darkness you’ve been hiding yourself in for these long months.

“This is my stop.” You pull away and lean your back against the door to your room at the end of rooms that line the facade of the old motel. It’s dark out, and the pale orange glow of the light above the door frame does little more than cast shadows across Eddie’s face. He could be mistaken for that boy if not for the way his shoulders stand wider than you remember. “Will you come in, Eddie?”

He tastes like whisky and smoke, and that’s just how you remember him. Gods, his mouth. His tongue moves swiftly across your lips, and your knees begin to sink. Those strong arms hold you up, they keep you in your spot so he can take his fill. This is the kind of kiss, one that makes you weak in the knees, that you thought was a thing that only existed in your past.

“So, yes?” You break apart from his kiss and rest your head in his chest to catch your breath. 

“Yes, please.” Eddie kisses the top of your head and breathes in your hair before spinning you around to face the door. “Open the door, Sweetheart.”

The clicking of the door, and the snap of the deadbolt. Those things are clear, the anticipation of what comes next makes you laser focused on the feel of the metal under your fingers. And then it’s a flurry of mouths and hands. Teeth clicking, noses bumping. A stumble over a shoe in your shared path. You fall to the bed in a heap, it’s surprising how many articles of clothes have been discarded in the short distance between door and mattress. 

“Is this real, or am I dreaming?” Eddie whispers into your neck, hot breath on the spot that he remembers makes you keen. His teeth test the skin, and you reward him with a gasp and a roll of your hips. “Fuck, I don’t care if I wake in a mess like a teenager. If this is a dream, I never want to leave it.”

You’d forgotten the way Eddie uses his words, but your body remembers the steps. Fingers waltz along your wider curves, they’re a quick study and map out the places that make you whine. Make you catch your breath. This is what he thinks about so often, the way you get lost under his touch. Your trust in him is still alive, and his need reaches a fever pitch.

“Eddie, please.” It’s all you can say, but it’s enough to snap Eddie out of his reverie. His hands are stroking the valley at your chest while his cock throbs against the cotton fabric of his boxers, hypnotized  by the way your skin gives under the pressure of his fingers. 

As above, so below. Hot mouths reach into one another as he spreads your legs and sinks his length into your heat. For a fleeting moment, it's a perfect union of bodies. Two as one. You need your breath as he reaches deeper inside you. He rests his forehead on yours and snaps harder into you. His open mouth takes the groans that leave you as he hits that tender and hard to reach place inside.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. You feel so good.” Eddie’s words float around your face as you reach your peak. It’s the words, not the ecstasy, which draw the tears from your eyes. Beautiful. You believe him, how could you not? You want to tell him that he’s beautiful, because he is. Instead you wrap your arms around him and kiss him while he cums. The last rocks of his hips move in rhythm with the languid kisses you share.

—-

You wake in the morning to find crumpled sheets in the space that was occupied by Eddie Munson as you drifted off to sleep. It really was a dream, you think, but the stickiness between your thighs tells you that there was a man in this bed last night. The idea that he’s left without a trace doesn’t even pass your mind, because not Eddie. He doesn’t do that. 

You ignore the pounding at your temple and drop your feet to the carpet. A full bladder is an urgent thing that can’t be denied. The freezing tile under your toes jolts you to attention. You map your next steps while you piss, and then wash your hands. You take the time to brush your teeth before heading back into the dark bedroom to find an outfit for the day. It doesn’t matter where Eddie has wandered off to, you need to head over to Jim’s. Eddie can find you later. Eddie will find you later. That’s something you know. Right now? You need coffee. It’s when you go to put your shoes on that you see it. A tiny scrap of paper on the side table next to your keys.

I didn’t want to wake you. I had some business to take care of while I’m in town. Dinner? I’m staying in the room next to yours. I’ll be back by 6.

You shake your head. Your boozy brain missed it last night. Of course it’s Eddie in the room next to yours. The thought of him on that bike makes your head spin. Makes you throb. Dinner, sure. Food is fuel and you’re gonna fucking need it. In the meantime, you have a job to do.

The way to Jim’s house is familiar but strange. Like trying to hold onto a dream as you’re starting to wake. The roads have the same names, but the trees are taller. It feels smaller, the houses closer together. In no time, you’re pulling up the drive to the shack that stands at the far end of Oak Street. It’s easy to forget it, set a little farther back than the other homes, hidden in the shade of the oaks the road is named for.

With a deep breath, you step out of your car and move swiftly to the front door. The smell hits you immediately. It’s not overwhelmingly awful, but it’s not good. Mildew and smoke. It smells empty. So you fill it with the fall air by opening every window. You’re happy to keep your jacket on to replace the smoke with the smell of the dry oak leaves that litter the yard around the house.

The soundtrack to your day digging through the life of your Uncle Jim is provided by the records stacked up by the player in his living room. Bob Dylan, CCR, and Pink Floyd. It could be worse, so you’re grateful. The treasures you discovered hold no true financial value, but they are priceless. Photo albums of long-lost family members, depression glass cake stands and punch bowls, and the piece de resistance - the family bible. You run your fingers across the leather cover and smile. You did good, kid. Grandma’s ring, though. You’ll come back at least one more time and truly tear the place apart before you hit the road. If it’s here, it’s going home with you.

—

Rick’s place is still home for Eddie, more so than the trailer park ever was. Wayne’s home was never Hawkins, and it served him well to be back in the wild mountains of West Virginia from where the Munsons hail. But Rick is a Hawkins institution, and he’s only ever had love for Eddie without the pressure of the constant concern that weighed on Wayne and Eddie’s relationship. That’s how it is with a father and son. Rick is the fun uncle that taught Eddie a way to bring in cash without being under the thumb of some asshole. It’s served him well throughout his life, even now. Eddie can find work anywhere, he carries his skills in his hands.

Rick is expecting Eddie, and he’s sitting out front when the Indian hums up the road that hugs Lovers’ Lake. It’s still pretty out here from Eddie’s perspective, especially with the trees still hanging on to the leaves of various colors. Eddie’s already thinking about getting you to come out here with him before you both leave town at the end of the week. As soon as he caught sight of you last night he had decided to wring out as much as he could from this brief reunion. No time to waste, especially if maybe there’s someone you’re going home to. He’s not going to ask that question. He doesn’t want to know. For now, you’re both here, and that’s more than he thought could ever be possible. 

“Eddie! Oh man, it’s been too long, brother.” Rick’s on his feet and meeting Eddie in the driveway for a bear hug. “Sight for sore eyes.”

They sit outside on the back deck for hours, talking about the old days and the new. They watch the sunlight dance along the ripples in the water when the occasional fish comes to the surface for a waterbug. They pass joints back and forth, and sip on the instant coffee that Rick swears is better than that overpriced bullshit the coffee houses try to con people into buying. And then they get down to business for a few minutes over a game of pool. Like the old days. It’s healing to remember there is a place in this godforsaken hellhole that Eddie can feel like himself. It was never all bad, but nothing ever is. Eddie knows this, his own life is a mixed bag. He has to take the bad or else lose out on the potential good.

The sun is starting to sink down below the trees when Eddie swings his leg over the seat of his bike to head back to the other side of town. He’s glad. He’s hoping that you’ve decided to accept his dinner invitation. The memories were fun to relive, but his mind is whirring with questions about who you are now. He’d like to hear it. He’d like to tell you about the bands he plays with on the weekends back in Charleston. Last night was nice, but he’d like to spend some time with you while the lights are on. He let his cock carry him away too quickly last night, he hopes he gets a chance to take his time with you tonight. His thighs vibrate from the hum of the engine while he weaves down the streets. He’s half hard remembering the way you smell and the sound of your voice when you get lost with him.

—

“You’d really like her. She’s a natural musician, like her dad. I’m just glad she’s sticking close to home for college. I worry enough even with her living less than a mile away.” You’re rambling on about Maddy while Eddie watches your lips move. He’d had a feeling there was at least one kid back home, he’s dated enough moms to recognize the signs. 

“Oh, a girl after my own heart. I already love her.” Eddie’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, his arm reaching across the table. Your plates are empty, and your glasses are drained. Your concern about telling Eddie you have an adult child is forgotten now, and you’re gushing. Just as it should be.

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop talking about Maddy for a while. She’s the sun my life orbits around.” You tip back your martini glass, searching for any last remnants of gin. No luck.

“Yeah, you’re a good mom.” That thumb rubs again. “Of course you are.” Eddie looks around the restaurant and watches as the servers very purposely place chairs on top of tables, inching ever closer to the one where the two of you are seated. “I think we should probably let them shut it down, head back to the motel.”

Head back to the motel. That sounds really good, because Eddie’s wearing a tight black t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination. You can just make out the farmer’s tan that starts at the middle of his biceps. You hadn’t noticed it as much last night, but Eddie’s skin is sunkissed from years of working outdoors. A contract carpenter, he told you, and you could almost smell the sawdust and varnish when he explained about his special word working projects. You want to see them. You want to touch them. You have no doubt that they’re unique and special pieces. Eddie’s always had the ability to pull beauty out of the mundane.

“Will you drive, Eddie? Take me the long way home?” You’re already handing him your keys before he can answer. Of course he will. He’ll do anything you want, it’s always been that way. He’d stop the world if it would make you smile.

“Let’s go, Love. You can rest your head on my shoulder.” And that’s what you do. The walk to the car is slow, but Eddie’s arms need to stay around you. It’s where they belong.

He does take the long way, hooking a right when he pulls out of Enzo’s parking lot and heading for the back roads. One hand sits on your thigh. Your head can’t reach his shoulder in the car, so you lean it back and close your eyes. Linda Ronstadt’s been cheated and mistreated, she’s wondering when will she be loved? Some day, Linda, even if it’s for just a fleeting time. The idea pricks your chest, and you push it down. We won’t think about the end until it gets here.

“Will you be my date for the funeral, Eddie? I might not go if I have to do it alone.” You keep your eyes closed, and he squeezes your leg. He’ll go with you, you already know that.

“Yep. And then we’ll go back to the bar and get shitfaced. Bev will love it. Give the old gal something to be pissed about.” You snort at the thought of Bev trying to wrangle two 40 somethings trying to relive their youthful dalliances. Poor woman. But she would probably love it.

“I like your plan, Ed. Now tell me, did you smoke it all, or do you have some weed back at the motel?” You turn to face him, you want to see that crooked grin of his. “I’ve gotta call Maddy when we get back, but I think it’d be nice to sit outside and get nice and toasty.”

“Yeah, well, I might have a little. Can I ask you something?” Eddie turns the wheel and you’re looking at downtown Hawkins. You nod, but your mouth is dry thinking about the possibilities of what he wants to know that you haven’t already told him. “What kind of an asshole wouldn’t hold on tight to someone like you when you’re so fucking perfect?”

“Christ, Munson. Are you high already?” You pull a cigarette out of the pack sitting on the dash and light it. Just a drag before handing it back over to him. You’re both giggling, it was too much. “Well, you might have been the first to let me go, but you weren’t the last. But look at us now, hm? I think it’s better like this. Makes you realize that the grass isn’t always greener, ya know?”

Eddie blows smoke out of his nose and quietly mutters, “I was blind.”

“Nah. What I told you back then is still true, I’ll take what I can get from you, Baby. Any time, any place. It doesn’t have to be forever.” Eddie bites the inside of his cheek at your words but keeps his response in his mind. 

—

Eddie sits in his room rolling joints while you’re on the other side of the wall talking to your daughter. All that talk about the kid, and no mention of the dad. Eddie knows who Maddy’s dad is because word travels fast. He’s never really thought about the guy much, but Eddie’s pretty sure he’s the one responsible for the sadness living behind your smile. 

Eddie pulls the comforter off his bed. He’s taking it outside with him to wait for you on the bench that’s at the entrance to the cemetery across the street from the motel. There are no streetlights out here, and the dead won’t mind the company. They never do. The plans he had for this week are fading into one persistent thought - be with you as much as possible before it’s too late. The threat of Sunday coming too fast hangs over every second that ticks past. 

It’s harder for Eddie to push those thoughts away than it is for you, because of the regret. He can’t help but feel it, even though he knows that 1984 Eddie is not the same as Eddie today. He’s learned how to spot a good thing, and that’s you. The idea of holding onto you with both hands doesn’t send a lightning bolt of fear through his guts like it did when he was 18. This couldn’t have happened then, whatever this is. It’s a battle in his mind, trying to see through the haze of the memories, how real can it be when everything is shrouded by the past.

The inward battle halts when he sees the door to your room open. He focuses on your form growing larger with each step closer to him. He watches each step of your feet until you’re looming over him, blotting out the weak light from the motel across the street. You have a soft smile on your lips, and he memorizes the way those lips feel on his forehead before you flop down on the bench next to him. He spreads the comforter over your lap, and pulls you into his side. 

“This is so romantic, Eddie. You, me, and the sleeping dead.” You sigh and nuzzle your nose into his neck. “You smell nice.” Your lips brush against his skin and the hair stands up in answer.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” Eddie asks as he places a joint between your lips. “I’m hoping to wake up next to you again, but I don’t wanna make any assumptions.” Sparks fly out from his Zippo, and you breathe in the weed smoke before answering.

“Baby, as far as I’m concerned, you could cancel your room for the rest of the week and move into mine. You don’t even need to ask what I want. This is it.” You look up at him and place the joint in his mouth. It’s hard to see his features in the dark, but you think his eyes look a little misty. “Hey now, don’t give me sad eyes, Eddie. We’ve talked about this already. I’ll take what I can get.”

“That’s bullshit.” Eddie’s voice is low and you’re already feeling a little lighter. It’s been a long time since you’ve smoked, and you can feel the cloud starting to creep across your thoughts.

“Oh? Well never mind then. Fuck you, Munson.” Your retort, but there’s no bite. You pluck the joint out of his fingers.

“I just mean, you deserve better than that, and I’m sorry.” Eddie kisses the top of your head, an apology of sorts.

“We all deserve better than we get, Baby. You should know that. It’s easier to accept it than to try and demand what other people can’t give.” You think the words came out right and can’t muster the energy to care if they didn’t.

“Yeah, but it’s still not right.” 

Right or not, it’s a truth you accepted a long time ago. It doesn’t stop the pain, but it kills the resentment. What more can you do? Life is hard enough.

—

The light stays on in your room tonight. The weed slows down time. It swallows you and Eddie up, and gives you the space to study each other. The rough calluses on his fingertips travel along the lines of your body, creating a roadmap in his memory. He needs to remember how to find you again, even when you’re a thousand miles away. He needs to taste you on his lips. 

The hunger is as strong as the previous night, it’s why your center on Eddie’s face. It’s why your nose leads the way down his torso, inhaling the smell trapped in the dark hair at the base of his cock. He tastes how you remember. Your mouth wraps around him while his tongue and fingers make you sing. He keeps one wide palm planted on the fat of your ass, his rip is hard enough to bruise. He keeps you in the spot until hot tears spill down your cheeks with the intense pleasure of it all. He keeps you there until he spills himself inside your mouth. And you drop, head on his hip, looking at his softening cock in front of you. You lean over and kiss its tip.

Eddie’s giggles are music to your ears. He suddenly needs to see your face, but your legs are still spread in front of him. He slaps your ass, hard enough to sting, but it works. You slowly move your legs over to the side, freeing him so he can crawl down to the end of the bed. He can taste himself on your lips and is surprised to feel his cock jump. You need a little more time than that, Bud.

“I need to tell you something.” Eddie’s arms are wrapped around your sweaty body, and he’s peppering kissing along the bridge of your nose. You release a questioning hum, trying to focus on his words. Sleep is calling to you. “I’m going to the funeral with you tomorrow. I’m going to Jim’s with you to finish the scavenger hunt from hell. I’m spending every fucking second with you until we both leave this shithole. But I don’t want that to be the end.”

“Everything ends, Baby.” You mutter into the skin of his chest. You feel his breath hitch and wonder if there are tears to match the stutter. “But it doesn’t have to end so soon if you don’t want it to.”

“I want to hold onto this, Love. I think we both know this -” Eddie points a finger between the two of you, “- is something special. It always has been. I’ll fucking pick my shit up and move to wherever you are. I won’t even complain about the snow. At least not the first year.”

“I’ll complain enough for the both of us. I always do.” You kiss his chest and look up at him. There are tears, You reach up to rub them off his cheek. You look at the hair at his temple and see the way the gray hair threads through his dark curls. You think it would be something, wouldn’t it? To see the gray overtake the black over the years. And you know Eddie doesn’t say anything to you that he doesn’t mean. It’s not something he’s capable of doing. “For Eddie Munson, my door is always open.”

“What about Maddy’s dad?” Eddie chokes on the words a little, but he gets them out along with a fresh tear that leaks from the corner of his eye. That’s something you’ve always loved about Eddie, he’s never hidden the tears when they show up.

“That’s been over for a while, Ed. I should’ve told you that.” You stroke his cheek and smile. “You’re down bad, old man. Wow, that’s really something, ain’t it?”

Eddie’s laugh rumbles through both of you. The years in front of you don’t look so bleak when you picture Eddie’s arm around your waist. The tears won’t sting so much if you have each other to wipe them away. It’s not too late, you’ve got two feet above ground. You’ve got two hands to hold onto this thing, and Eddie’s hands are holding on just as tight now. The memories and the future swirl together, and you thank god for those years apart. It’s so much sweeter this time around. 

You fall asleep with Eddie inside of you. I love yous breathed into your mouths. Eddie’s going to have to replace that seat on his bike if he expects you to ride on it with him. He’s adding it to the mental list he has running. Tell Wayne he’s moving closer. Pack his shit up in a Uhaul. Drive a couple hundred miles. Replace the bike seat. Wrap his arms around you and never let go.

[angstyantoinette]

Yandere!Howl Jenkins Pendragon x Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Slight NSFW [mention], kidnapping, manipulation, toxic relationships. 

We all know that Howl is very much a ladies man; he knows exactly how to pull women in, and captivate them so that they fall in love with him easily. 

For Howl, it’s all a game. He catches the eye of a girl, no interest on his part of course. She just happens to be in his line of the game. He knows what to say, how to present himself to perfectly fluster and simultaneously intimidate every other person there. He doesn’t venture outside the castle often, and when he does, there’s an air of fear; there’s such awe left in his wake. 

And he loves it. This drama queen feeds off it.

But we also know that Howl is a runner. He cannot commit to anything, hating the restricting nature of feeling tied down. I mean, he abandoned his apprenticeship. With this in mind, Howl makes the most unlikely yandere. But he actually is highly dangerous, although he doesn’t really look like it.

He’s afraid of himself in a way. He understands that he is quite powerful, and after practically going rogue, Howl gets his kicks with spontaneity, with the complete unexpected in life. 

When he meets you, he expects you to give him all your attention, like everyone else. But you brushed past him, looking at his fancy clothes, his blonde hair, sapphire eyes, green jewels swinging from his ears, and the beautiful pendant around his neck. He was picturing it now in his mind, getting ready for the look of adoration, the tense of muscles, the scarlet blush upon your cheeks.

But you looked away. You gathered your belongings, perhaps stowing them away in your satchel, and you just looked away.

What?

Is that it?

You weren’t even interested in him. Howl was still so stunned he had nothing to say, no suave and seductive voice to tempt you into his charms. He was in awe of you; you looked at him with such indifference it made his head hurt. Not with heartache or pain or anything like that. But he could not deny that he wasn’t curious.

Well, of course, not only does this not sit too well with Howl, he is very much a delusional person in this kind of state. However, he is incredibly smart and calculating and he balances these two personalities scarily very well. 

Like I said before, Howl is a very dangerous yandere, and he thrives on his blantant misinterpretation of a mere womanizer to scamper away, unsuspected, unscathed, and free to do what he likes.

Howl doesn’t really hold on to grudges that much, or anything; when he loses interest, he tosses things away. Not all though. 

You, you, YOU. 

Why won’t you leave his weary mind after days of being apart? Why is his  conciousness telling him to look for you, and not relent until he’s succeeded in doing so? Despite all the signs, all of the telltale signs that shows he’s just a little too invested in you, he writes it off as his bad habits resurfacing to play another game. 

And, of course, Howl Jenkins shall oblige!

Howl is a patient man, make no mistake. He finds it enjoyable to watch things go down for a while; no matter how trivial, poking fun in plain sight at innocent civilians never gets old. 

When he finally gives in to trying to find you and play with you for a little while, Howl pushes aside all distractions to do so. That means traveling through counties and villages, towns and cities until he’s found you again.

Howl is desperate for love and affection that isn’t because of his looks. He really wants someone to love him, not the image he puts across, not just above the surface with his tantalizing blue eyes that pull you in and trap you. 

You saw through that. You barely gave him a second glance and while it peaked his interest initially, it annoyed him for days on end. Usually being teasing and indifferent to Calcifer’s complaining, he found himself snapping and getting easily annoyed. Markl began to subtly keep his distance on bad days. 

Now, though, he’s become delusional. In Howl’s mind, you are to blame for his interest, for his inability to keep his mind off of you. You are the sole reason for his burgeoning obsession that seems to be running the show. He tells himself that when he finds you, it’ll leave. This painful, utterly agonising sensation of having you in his grasp, playing his game will go far away. He’ll seduce you, definitely, take you to bed and have a good time and his obsession and all-consuming desire to play the game, just you and him will just...go. Poof.

Except when Howl does find you, he doesn’t feel like letting go of you. 

Ever. 

And while this does take him by surprise, it all starts to make sense for him. 

Because looking at you now, bundled up in his arms, crying in anger and confusion, he sees in the stars that this was meant to be. 

He waits until he’s sure you’re asleep [more like passed out from exhaustion-] to really, really get a good look at you. He notices for the first time your cheeks and how they’re squished against his pillows and wrapped up in his sheets so perfectly, it’s like you’ve been here many times before. He notes how relaxed your closed eyes seem to be, no furrowed brow or scrunched tight eyelids; just complete and utter serenity. 

You’re just so perfect. Could you be a god, some kind of deity perhaps?

He’s in love for the first time in a long time. He may have let it slip by then, selfish and uncaring, but now?

Oh no, Darling, you don’t stand a chance. Howl will do anything to keep you hidden from those bastards’ eyes  protect you, to love you and most of all, make you see that he’s the one for you.

 Always.

You sat in the boiling water filling the bathtub, limp and tired, unresponsive as Howl bustled around you, his task completely focused on getting you ready for bed. Once upon a time, you would have refused to call him by name; instead you settled for ‘bastard’, ‘prick’, and ‘I hate you’. 

You even tried to sleepily mutter these things under your breath, not caring now that you were being lifted out of the bath, and dressed in a white gown. You cared even less when feeling your mind slip away into a soft sleep, curling into your body with comfort, clinging onto Howl’s pillows.

However, in front of his ‘housemates’ [ you could only guess what a talking fireplace could have to do with his wacky moving castle ], you were frightened. Howl didn’t even have to say a word; he had you smiling and  acting somewhat normally in front of ‘Calcifer’ and the little boy, Markl, you thought his name was. 

But you could always feel the sliver of magic take a hold of your wrists from behind, a little voice telling you that staying here was for your best interest, what more could you want? It promised you eternal love, devotion and affection, coated with a sickly sweetness only Howl could pull off. 

All in all, you stopped resisting after a while. Howl was annoyingly patient it seemed, and it frustrated you to feel as though you were a child all over again. He smothered you, insisting on doing the most trivial of things for you, never snapping back at you, never doing anything to remotely answer back at you in the same manner whenever you resisted his help.

It didn’t click until you had cursed at him mercilessly, screeching and crying, pulling at your combed hair, that by acting like this; he looked better than you. He looked above you. Compared to your tantrums, Howl looked calm and collected and completely willing to help you in any way possible. 

But why was he doing all of this? 

Why did you wake up in his bed, with his lanky arms draped all over you as if you were lovers? Why was he spoiling you, letting you wear his clothes, feeding you? What was he trying to convince you of? 

“Darling, I have some new nightclothes for you. Do you want me to help you into them?” He was slower, more gentle tonight as he strolled around his room. He was delberate though, not forceful exactly, but it was more of an atmospherical warning. You could just tell; if little Y/N tried anything, something would happen. 

Some kind of spell, or perhaps even a curse to teach you a lesson.

Ah, there it was. Another gift. 

Did he think you’d simply tolerate him because of his lavish, his blatantly excessive gift-giving?

Why did he look at you with such sickening adoration on his flawless features? 

At last, his bustling seemed to cease and he took a longing glace back at you. He probably only meant it to last a few seconds but the longer he gazed, it just became a cold and glassy stare. 

You knew the feeling of ‘zoning out’ well, but his eyes became darker and darker. Some kind of shadow must have passed over him or something, because he snapped out of his eerie trance and threw himself onto the bed. 

You yelped in surprise, pulling your hands to your sides, hastily spreading them out on the soft quilt like spiders, your legs pushing your body back ever so slightly, eyes wide. 

Howl chuckled, but it was filled with a sinister undertone that you weren’t used to at all. He snapped his head to the right, his hands already unraveling a silk-encased package. 

“I saw these while in the town today and couldn’t help myself.” 

Pulling out the brand new nightclothes, you unwillingly let out a pleased gasp. It was a set of matching pyjamas. They were satin, smooth to the touch and a beautiful shade of emerald, not too bright at all, but not dark either. 

Sometimes, you enjoyed this sort of treatment from Howl, albeit, very guiltily. He was always polite, courteous and kind, willing to help you with anything, but you also couldn’t help but feel a sense of horror, lingering long after you fell asleep. As if it were some kind of parasite. You just couldn’t for the life of you place your finger on it. 

You had learned to never keep him waiting for anything; he was a busy man and as much as he liked to have free reign of his work, he liked to be organised too.

This time you had apparently spent too long admiring your gift rather than answering him.

“Isn’t it lovely, Y/N? I thought it would suit you divinely.”

“Y-yes, it’s beautiful, thanks so much H-Howl.” 

Not wasting any more time, he sat up from his previous position on the bed, and somehow managed to gracefully snatch the nightclothes away from your trembling hands, and shooting you a look as if to say, well, take your clothes off. That was the less sinister version. Howl’s eyes took on a new darkness that growled, or I’ll do it myself. 

Your hands flew to your neckline, undoing the small ribbon that held the soft cotton on you, and allowed Howl to thread his fingers through the material, travelling towards the bottom of the garment and pulling it over your head whilst you lifted your arms, feeling the comfort of the soft sleeves peel off your arms. 

The blush on your face was unmistakeable. It was another embarassment being bathed by him, but this? Stripping you out of your clothes? It didn’t help that he was aware of your inner battle, and having an annoying, but otherwise barely noticeable smile on his face. 

His hand reached over with the satin nightclothes, urging you to take them. You did, carefully so, slipping them on against your flushed body, his cerulean orbs watching intensely. 

As if he didn’t want the image to go away. 

When you had finished dressing yourself, you stood up and  tentatively walked to the mirror, even slightly stumbling on your feet, and gasped in pleased surprise. You looked...beautiful in the nightclothes. The satin felt so smooth on your skin, and the emerald shade brought out your e/c eyes nicely. 

A few moments later though, you gasped for a whole different reason. Howl slipped his hands around the front of your torso, letting them wander further and further down, reaching your thighs with a renewed urgency, pressing you back against his body.

“I didn’t hear a ‘thank you’, darling.” His tone was teasing, but you could detect a hint of anger, annoyance was it? As quickly as the shadows came they departed, leaving you at the mercy of the wizard Howl. 

“No matter,” he rasped against the nape of your neck, placing soft, heated kisses against your skin,”You can say thank you, whilst begging on your knees.”

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

sorry about that ending, it just needed to come to an end before i drove myself mad with the procrastination :)

but what did you think of it?? there really isn’t enough Howl’s Moving Castle fics, let alone yandere ones, but i like how it came out. 

to the person who requested this, Howl, is 100000% the gentle dom we ALL NEED OKAY

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 5 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem! Reader

This is a big one babes!! Hold on tight!! 

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

Contains: canon-typical discussion of violence, soft aaron hotchner supremacy 

wordcount: 1.8k

You barely saw Aaron on Sunday, despite being in his house the whole day-- Jack was practically buzzing with excitement the moment you came through the door, pulling you down to his height and wrapping his arms around your neck to squeeze you in a hug.

“Hey, little man, I’ve missed you!” You said enthusiastically, returning his hug. 

“I missed you too. And so did Daddy. He said you were sick so I drew you a feel better card,” he told you, dragging you over to the coffee table and brandishing the  piece of computer paper he’d folded in two to form a card. 

“I love it so much Jack! I feel better already. Let’s put this on the fridge, yeah?” You said, standing up and shooting Aaron a smile as you crossed the kitchen. 

“Can we play legos now?”

“Buddy, give her a second. She just got here.” Aaron tried to calm Jack down, but you waved him off. 

“Just let me put my stuff away, and I’ll meet you in your room, okay?’ You told Jack, who scurried off towards his bedroom.

Aaron must have found some other way to entertain himself, because you and Jack spent the whole morning together, only taking a break after lunch when it was time for Jack’s nap. He insisted that you put him down, and after three readings of Curious George, he was finally asleep. When you turned to leave, you saw Aaron sitting in the door jam watching you.

“He was so excited this morning you would have thought it was Christmas,” He remarks as you meet him in the doorway. 

“He’s a good kid.” You whisper, slipping out into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind the two of you.

“I’m lucky.” He agrees with you. 

“Come on, Hotchner, it’s not all luck.” You tease him good naturedly as the two of you move back to the kitchen. He saw you headed for the sink, full of dishes from lunch, and sped up to get in front of you.

“Ah, ah ah. It’s naptime.” He told you, placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you around. 

Before you could stop yourself, you stomped your foot, not entirely unlike a child who needed a nap. “Hotch, come on!” 

“We’re probably getting called on something tomorrow, and sleep will be hard to come by, and you’ll wish you’d listened to me.” He tells you.

“You’re acting like you aren’t going to bench me, regardless of whether or not we get called on a case.” You accused of him, and he at least had the good grace to try and look sheepish. “I’m not tired. Can we just watch a movie or something?” You offered a compromise, and he nodded, leading you to the couch. 

You plopped onto the couch and picked up the remote as Aaron crossed the room to grab a throw blanket for the two of you to share. He spread the blanket across the couch and sat down, and you tucked your feet underneath you, unintentionally leaning in closer to him as you flicked the TV to a movie channel. Aaron stretched his legs out in front of him, extending one arm across the end of the sofa and the other arm around the back of it, conveniently making more space for you. As Hotch had suspected, it wasn’t long before your eyelids started to get heavy. 

“The dishes…” you mumbled sleepily. 

“I’ll take care of them.” He whispered, leaning in closer so you could hear him. 

“Later. It’s naptime,” you reminded him, your head resting against his chest in sleep. His arm came to rest across your shoulders and down your side, drawing you into him. He inhaled deeply, trying not to overthink. 

You’re her superior. His brain screamed. She loves Jack, not you. She loves Jack, but that doesn’t mean she wants to raise him. You’re too old, too cranky, too much baggage. This isn’t what you think it is. As much as he wanted to make himself believe all of that, as much as he wanted to accept that even if he knew he would go through hell and back for you, he could never have you, all he could focus on in that moment was the steady puffs of breath coming from your nose and landing on his chest. He realized, with a start, that it felt like walking into the wrong classroom your senior year of high school and locking eyes with the woman you knew you were going to marry.

  Aaron’s prediction had been correct-- Monday morning had found you jetting off to Kentucky, for the murder of three county paramedics-- by the time your plane had landed, another body had dropped. A firefighter. You all climbed into SUVs from the airstrip-- Hotch and Rossi off to examine the bodies, Morgan, JJ and Prentiss to the most recent crime scene, and you and Reid to the police station to the police station to work on the geographic profile. Normally you’d be off with Hotch and Rossi, and examining a body wasn’t technically field work, but you went with Reid with minimal pouting, knowing you were lucky that Hotch had let you leave Quantico at all.

You decided to let Reid drive, and you were fiddling with the radio when he spoke for the first time. 

“I keep… thinking about what there is to say to you, to communicate how much we’re all here for you, how much we all love you and we all want what’s best for you, and it feels like everything just falls short. I have an IQ of 187 and I still can’t find the words, but I can’t say nothing. I was scared for you. I’m proud of you, and if you need anything I just want you to know I’m here. I might not have the right words but I promise to listen, and to make sure you feel heard.” The words stumble out of Spencer awkwardly, but still strike you with their sincerity. You sniffle a little before responding. 

“I know, Reid. I know how much you all care for me. I’ve never doubted that for a second. Thank you.” You tell him, your voice thick with emotion. 

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I am.” You tell him with a confident nod. “Or, at least, I’m getting there. I did the hard part. I got out.” 

A few hours later, you were at the police station with Reid, narrowing the geographic profile and spitballing with victimology, when one of the local officers poked his head into your makeshift office-space. 

“Another body dropped. The town librarian.” 

“Two in one day?” You asked. 

“He’s spree killing now. He’s devolving.” Reid supplemented. 

“Do you think it was random? He was killing first responders. The librarian doesn’t fit.” 

“Could be,” Reid agreed. 

“Have you called the rest of our team?” You asked the officer. 

“Not yet.” 

“We’ll call.” You told him, and he nodded. You pulled out your phone and dialed Hotch as Reid crossed the room to call JJ. 

“Hotchner,” he said into the phone. 

“Hey, it’s me. Another body just dropped.”  

“He’s devolving.” Aaron sighed

“It was the local librarian.” 

“But he was killing--” He started, but you could hear the words he was going to say before he even thought them.

“First responders, I know.” 

Aaron let out a deep sigh. “If I take Reid off of babysitting duty, are you going to behave?” He asked. 

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, but I reserve the right to bitch about it when this is over.” 

“Noted. Tell him to meet us at the next scene, please?” He asks of you.

“Will do. Stay safe out there.” 

“You too.” Hotch said before hanging up. 

You sent Reid off to meet up with Hotch, and sat back down in front of your case files and notes, determined to find something written between the lines. After a tortuously slow thirty minutes, a thought occurs to you. You step into the police bullpen and get the attention of one of the officers. 

“Hey. Does this town contract out its EMS services?” 

“No,” the officer tells you. “They’re all employed by the town. They’re paid with a mix of taxpayer and grant dollars.” 

“So they’re government employees?” 

“Yeah.” The officer confirms, and you pull your cell phone out of your pocket, heading out a side door to get a little bit of air and some better reception to call Garcia. 

“What’s new bugaboo?” Garcia asks as she picks up the phone, and you can’t help but smile. The sunshine felt warm on your face as you paced the empty back lot of the police station. 

“Hey, Garcia. Is there any way to track if anyone in town has some sort of anti-government bias?” 

“I can look for fringe political groups-- if the unsub is a member, that might help, but it would take me days to just search through every resident’s social media.” 

“That’s okay, start there. Look for white men between 23 and 45. If I think of anything else that might weed it out I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, kitten. Are we talking strict anarchists here, or should I be looking at groups like--” 

Garcia continued, but you couldn’t hear her over the sound of a gun cocking and the sensation of cold metal at the back of your head. You gasped. 

“Sweetie? Did you think of something?”

“It’s time to put the phone down.” A voice said from behind you. You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. 

“Who was that? Are you okay?” Garcia asked.

“Go on,” the voice said. “Hang up the phone. Don’t be dumb.” 

You hung up the phone without saying another word to Garcia. The man dragged his gun down your spine, resting it against the middle of your back. “To think, I came here thinking I might kill a couple of cops, and I ended up with an FBI agent. Talk about an upgrade.” You tried to subtly reach for your gun, but it was useless. He strikes you in the head with the barrel of his gun before you can react. “Come on, sweet thing. I told you not to play dumb with me.” 

“You really think you can kill an FBI agent outside of a fully staffed police station without getting caught? And you’re going to call me dumb?” You asked, hoping that he couldn’t hear the fear laced in your voice.

“Who said anything about not getting caught?” He chuckled. “We all die eventually. Might as well make it worth my while.”

tagging:  @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee @hotforhotchner11  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner @zheezs14​

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Okay, so you said I could send an ask for headcanons about the childhoods of some specific merc(s)... I think I would really like to read your headcanons about Soldier’s and Engineer’s childhood :)

Thanks in advance and I hope your well.

Ooooh…I’ve been waiting for this! And thank you for being specific and not just saying “the rest of them.” Sometimes I get overwhelmed with nine specific mercs to write for. Your specifics are much appreciated.

****************

Soldier:

Soldier doesn’t talk very much about his childhood - whether it’s because something happened or he just doesn’t remember it, no one can tell. It’s nowhere in his file, either…he refused to do anything except tell fantastic tales of a fictional youth.

However, in a rare streak of almost lucidity, he spouted off the entirety of his younger years, much to the team’s surprise. Usually, if anyone asked directly, he changed the subject.

But now he described everything in vivid detail. And, with a bit of research from Miss Pauling, everything fell into place.

Apparently he had been born in a small military town in Georgia. His father was overseas, leaving he and his mother alone in their small yellow house.

In order to make ends meet, his mother worked at a nearby factory, mostly leaving Soldier to fend for himself and the house.

“Can you be a big, strong soldier like daddy for me?”

Soldier would always agree, finding his own food, his own entertainment, and his own friends. No matter what happened, he never bothered his mom. If anything, his job was to protect her.

That’s why, when his stomach started hurting and his arms and legs ached, he said nothing about it.

When he forgot the chores he was supposed to do and even the names of his friends, he didn’t bring it up.

When he felt tired all the time and some days could barely get out of bed, he just chalked it up to laziness like his mother did.

It turns out the factory they were next to was polluting the water next to the house with dangerous amounts of lead, which soon overcame Soldier’s immune system of steel.

He could barely remember anything anymore, and he became more and more distraught every day. Sometimes he would forget where he was and run outside, then get lost in the woods, only coming back once he remembered where he was supposed to be.

Soldier began to wear one of his father’s old helmets after his mom commented on his red eyes and the dark circles around them. He didn’t want to worry her. Besides, it helped bring back a few memories if he ever got lost again.

Finally, it got to the point where he didn’t even remember his mother, or his promise to her. He began to wander farther and farther away from home.

One day, he didn’t come back at all.

Out in the world with not a single memory to his name, Soldier wandered far and wide. He usually slept in barns and old, abandoned houses, cut off from most people.

Occasionally, he would find a family that wanted to “raise him as their own,” only to turn him away after finding him too difficult to care for.

He had frequent nightmares, ate little due to his unresolved stomach issues, and could barely walk ten feet without forgetting where he was going.

If he accidentally wandered into the same house twice, he would be chased out with either a broom or a gun - usually the latter.

He became “the demon child” in some counties, and “g*psy kid” in others, due to his long, unkempt hair, hidden eyes, and odd habits.

It even got to the point where Soldier couldn’t sleep on anyone’s property because he would be actively fought off like a wolf or a bear.

His only pleasure was an old movie theater that, as he recovered from his lead poisoning, remembered the location of and frequently snuck into.

The only thing that played were romance movies - which, like many children, Soldier hated - and war movies, which he watched over and over again with starving eyes.

Because of these movies, a single memory from his mother’s house came to him. A woman, tall and muscular from hard labor, giving him a shiny badge to hold, asking him to be a strong soldier like his father.

And thus began his life-long dream of becoming a military officer.

He trained according to what he knew from the films…which was mostly running, doing jumping jacks, and occasionally rolling around in the mud.

This only served to distance him further from his fellow human beings, but he didn’t care. Soldier had a mission, and he was going to do it well.

But the biggest change was his hair.

He had started cutting it off with sharpened rocks, but he was always saving up coins he found for a “proper army cut.”

Finally, he had quite the collection in a dirty mason jar, and marched into the barber shop in his town to ask for a haircut.

The manager was appalled, and at first refused, but Soldier stood his ground.

“Civilian, I’ll have you know that by denying a soldier with a haircut, you are denying America one of its best fighters! I can’t curdle the enemy’s blood looking like a hippie!”

After a short yelling match that, of course, Soldier won, the manager decided it would be in his best interest to comply.

He walked out of that shop with no hair on his head, but a huge grin on his face. Next stop, the ranks.

Soldier went from draft office to draft office, applying for and being denied entrance to the army for his obvious lack of mental stability.

This is when the personal retelling ended, since Soldier became very upset by the memory of his recruitment failures, but Miss Pauling concluded that he just bounced from state to state until Mann Co. found him, quote, “sitting in an alleyway, eating army draft paperwork while sobbing uncontrollably.”

Engineer:

Engineer also never really talks about his childhood, but both Medic and Spy (Spy knows everything about everyone on the team) know that’s for a good reason.

He grew up in a trailer community near an almost ghost town in Texas.

His father was an abusive car mechanic with a mean streak a mile wide and a shop full of failed inventions. His mother wasn’t any better - she was bitter and reclusive, only really coming out of her room to pick a fight with her husband.

However, what Engie lacked in family, he more than made up for in friends.

He had a rag-tag, Rugrats-esque team of pals from all walks of life: Rhapsody, the daughter of a struggling porn star; Tom, the son of two farmers wiped out by blight; Cici, an adopted girl that could barely walk into her trailer without a black eye and a string of slurs; Quinn, the nervous child of a single mother that serves as guidance to the other kids; And Fred, who didn’t seem to have any family, but had become a greaser big brother to all of them.

Together, they explored the desert near the trailer park, pooled their resources to feed and support each other, and used their individual strengths to get through each day.

Engineer, whom everyone affectionately called “Big Dell,” snuck parts from his dad’s workshop for his own creations.

By the time he was twelve, he could make a small, running engine for the soapbox cars his friends frequently raced.

No toy, piece of clothing, glasses, or tool was out of his line of expertise.

One day, though, upon finding that some of his parts were missing, Engineer’s dad gave him a terrible beating that broke a few of his fingers and left a huge gash near his eye.

Since then, he refused to fix, make, or even touch a tool.

He wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, but they could make a pretty good guess, since they knew where the scraps and parts had come from.

The whole group was furious with Engineer’s dad - their Big Dell was funny, smart, and was more loving than every family member they had combined. Even Quinn was red in the face.

They wanted to break into his dad’s workshop and destroy all of his inventions, just to teach him a lesson, but they knew Engineer would take the fall for it.

Instead, they rummaged through trash cans, searched their toy chests, and looked under their trailers to find things Engineer could use.

They waited until his birthday to unveil the massive pile of supplies they had stowed away.

Engineer immediately dropped to his knees and began to cry, and everyone else dogpiled him for a huge hug.

As the creme de la creme, they gave him a pair of welding goggles - the same welding goggles he wears to this day, having modified them so they still fit his growing body.

With his healed fingers and renewed spirit, he made each of them a gift: a toy car for Rhapsody, a skull ring for Fred, a full set of candle wax crayons for Cici, a chewable necklace for Quinn so they wouldn’t chew on their collar, and a mini-planter for Tom.

But Engineer was given the greatest gift - confidence in his own abilities and that he can be and was appreciated for more than his services.

This gave him the drive to build bigger and better things, which his friends happily assisted in creating.

Engie’s best memories are with that motley crew of scrawny, beaten-up kids.

But, as he became a teenager, the abuse grew worse by the day.

He was often kept in his dad’s garage to fix cars in sweltering heat and with nothing to show for his work except threats of what would happen if a customer complained.

His mother finally grew bitter enough to pick on him, wondering aloud and pointedly if she had made a mistake by having him, then immediately contradict herself by wailing in his arms about how she’s the most awful mother in the world, and how she would be gone soon, and then nobody would have to deal with her anymore.

Engie grew more and more distant from his friends as they either moved out, ran away, or, in Rhapsody’s case, died.

He thought of just shutting the garage door and turning on a car a couple times, but he would always return to his memories of the hidden cave of goodies his friends had collected or the many inventions they had helped him build.

It just wasn’t worth it.

On a night when his depression and self-doubt was especially bad, he decided to build a personal invention for the first time in years - a small, robotic chicken made out of bent gears and empty oil cans.

He worked on it for a few weeks, but made the mistake of leaving it on a work table once it was finished.

Engie came to work the next morning with his dad ready to chew him out. But, before any finger could be lifted against his son, he was interrupted by a sweet older couple that was having their tires replaced.

“Now, Ethan, ain’t that just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?”

“Hm?”

“That there chicken statue over there! It looks like it could very well get up and start peckin’ for worms, don’tcha think?”

Engie looked at the couple, then at his dad, then at his chicken. He slowly lifted it from the table and turned the key.

It started to slowly lean forward, then took a few steps on it’s long, spring-loaded legs. The neck went down, and the chicken’s rusty beak began to scrape at the pavement.

Now he had the husband’s attention.

“Didja build that yourself, son, or did your daddy help ya?”

Engineer looked at his dad for a split second before answering.

“My own sweat ‘n blood, sir. My daddy says I should stop wastin’ time on ugly thing-a-ma-jigs an’ put my hands to somethin’ worth doin’.”

The man smiled. “Well, this ‘ugly thing-a-ma-jig’ shows real skill. We could use somebody like you, once we train you up a bit.”

“Now hold on a damn - !” his father interjected, but was silenced with a cold stare.

“We’ll put ya through a state-of-the-art school, then put ya straight inta the work force. You can build whatever you like…and you’ll have a lot better materials than rusty tin. Whaddaya say, son?”

Engineer just nodded, and the man grabbed his hand and shook it.

“We’ll keep in touch.”

Engineer left that trailer park at age seventeen, leaving his fuming father and drunken mother behind.

He only stopped to visit Rhapsody’s grave before embarking on his new life.

There is still a stone plate with a message carved into it next to the headstone. If you brush off the leaves and dig out the moss, you can see Engie’s parting words:

“A friendship with you and the rest of the gang is the greatest thing I ever built. -Big Dell”

[headinthestaticsky]

The Dusk Calls for me: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 12

AUTHORS NOTES: None of the characters in Twilight belong to me. All rights go to Stephanie Meyer.

We’re heading into the Finale of book 1 folks... I have so many ideas for book 2... it’s going to be great. Hopefully!

“You get ready, you get all dressed up

To go nowhere in particular Back to work or the coffee shop Doesn't matter 'cause it's enough To be young and in love.”

Love by, Lana Del Rey

Bella was finally going to meet the Cullens officially. All day before I had left to go down there she paced, looking like she was going to be sick. All of the Cullens were cooking Italian for Bella. The only person who I was worried about was Rosalie. She was furious at Edward for even dating her, and when he went public with her... it set her over the edge. Emmett was chopping up lettuce and other vegetables for her while Rosalie begrudgingly held a bowl for him to put it in. I was sitting in the living room with Jasper, he was concentrated on reading some books. It was always entertaining to watch vampires read so quickly.

“Is she even Italian?” Rosalie asked.

“Her name is Bella, Rose... she has to be.” Emmett replied.

“Emmett... you thought I was french just because my name is Fleur. That food was really good though... not like I am complaining. I said.

“Okay I admit I messed up there but, I have to be right about this one.”

“Whatever you say Em.”

“Shut it short-stack.”

“At least I don’t hit my head through small doorways.”

He glared at me jokingly and then rolled his eyes.

“Rose, tell her to stop bullying me.”

“I’m sorry I can’t do that... it’s too funny to listen to.” Rosalie said.

“Ugh, I feel betrayed.” Emmett said, his hands going toward his un-beating heart.”

Rosalie smiled, it was soon dropped though. She must’ve kept thinking about Bella.

“She better eat this.”

“Don’t want to sound gluttonous here but... I was totally eat if she doesn’t.... it’s her lose.”

“Stop trying to make me laugh.”

“I will never stop my attempts to make you laugh.”

“Woo, get a whiff of that, here comes the human!” Rosalie said in a sing-songy voice.

Esme smiled widely, she quickly wiped her hands before making her way over to Bella.

“Bella, we’re making Italiano for you.”

“Bella, this is my Esme my mother for all intents and purposes.”

Emmett raised his hand and waved at Bella with a knife in it. Bella and Esme exchanged a bit of Italian.

“Hello again Bella, hope you’re well.” Jasper said.

“Hey, Jasper... hope you’re well too.”

“You’ve given us an excuse to use the kitchen again. We usual make meals for your sister when she stays over.” Carlisle said.

“I hope you’re hungry.” Esme added.

I could see a nervous look on Bella’s face, I probably should’ve told her they would cook for her. 

“Y-yeah absolutely.”

“She already ate.” Edward said, a tinge of attitude in his voice.

Rosalie stood there, anger was all of her face. She smashed the bowl she was holding in her hand.

“Pull back Edward, you’re throwing her to the wolves!” I thought.

“Damn Rose... remind me not to piss you off again.” I said.

She had to bite down a smile.

“Perfect...” She said.

“It’s just because... I know you guys don’t eat. I didn’t want to put you into any trouble.”

“Of course, that is very considerate of you.” Esme comforted.

“Just ignore Rosalie, I do.” Edward said.

“Yeah, let’s just keep pretending that this isn’t dangerous for all of us.”

“Look, I would never tell anybody about you guys... Besides, Fleur knows and you trust her.”

“It’s because I pick up a good energy from her... I know I can trust her with anything I tell her. She’s not a backstabber, she’s told me some of the stuff you’ve done. I’m sorry but, it made me sick the way you use to treat her. I hated seeing how upset she got telling the things you and your mother said to her”

My eyes widened before looking down at my legs... maybe me being here just reminded them of some of the things I told them. I wasn’t being much help to Bella right now. Jasper sensing my nerves rising, calmed them down. My uncomfortable mood slowly simmering down.

“Rosalie, stop... don’t worry Bella, she knows you wouldn’t say anything about us to anyone.” Carlisle said.

“Well, the problem not is, you two have gone public now so...”

“Emmett.” Esme interrupted.” 

“No, she should know. The entire family could get implicated if this ends badly.”

“Badly, as in... I would become the meal.”

All of the Cullens in the house except for Rosalie and Esme started to laugh. I heard a few thumps before I saw Alice and Dean enter the room.

“Hi, Bella... I’m Alice.” Alice jogged toward Bella, giving her a hug.

“Hi.”

“Gosh, you do smell good.”

“Alice what’re you.”

“Don’t worry... Bella and I are going to be great friends.”

Dean looked like he was struggling to say something. I could tell he was uncomfortable to be around Bella right now.

“It-it’s a p-pleasure to meet you.” He said.

“Don’t mind Dean, he and Jasper are our newest vegetarians.” 

“It’s okay Dean, you won’t hurt her.”

The expression on Edward’s face made me want to laugh.

“Okay well, I’m going to show her around the house.”

“Okay.” Bella mumbled.

“I’ll see you soon.” Alice said.

“Okay.” Bella said again.

“So cute!” Esme gushed.

“I know!” Alice said in agreement.

“I think that went well.” Carlisle added.

“Rose, clean this up... now.” Esme said.

I leaned back into the couch, sinking into it. Jasper put his arm around my shoulder. “What an interesting visit.” I thought to myself.

Another day came and went by, Bella and I were on our way to the diner. It had been so long since I had been down there. I was in the passengers seat of her truck. I thought since we were going to the same place, we should probably drive in the same vehicle... During out drive she started talking about how Edward had been watching her sleep for months.

“Are you serious Bella? That’s kinda creepy.”

“I’m sure you have Jasper in your room with you at night.”

“Yeah but, he always asks me before he goes in there. We plan stuff like that out... He should be coming later tonight actually.”

“Okay... you have a point there.”

When we arrived at the diner and got out of the truck Mike approached us...

“Hey, you and Cullen huh? I don’t like it... I mean he looked at you like you’re something to eat.”

Bella and I looked at each other and smirked... he had no idea how correct he was in that statement. We walked past him and entered the dinner, dad was already waiting for us.

“Hey I hope you two don’t mind I ordered food for you guys already. I got you Bells a Spinach Salad and I got you a burger Fleur.”

“Yeah that sounds good.” I said.

“Good picks dad. Even though, you should get a salad like me next time... cut back the steak.” Bella said.

“Hey, I’m as healthy as a horse.”

"Hey , Chief, the boys want to know... did you find anything by Queets river today?"  The waitress asked.

"Yeah, we found a bare human footprint... but it looks like whoever it is is headed east... the Kisap County Sheriff is gonna take over from here."

 "Okay, I hope whoever it is... they get them fast." The waitress then walked away, a group of men started talking within there group.

I turned around hearing something outside, Mike was doing something to a poor bush outside. I nudged Bella, trying to get her attention.

“Hey, someone’s flagging you outside.”

“It seems that Newton boys got a big smile for you.” Dad added.

Bella looked, and then turned back around, her face looked horrified.

“You can join them if you want.” I said smirking.

“Shut up you jerk... Mike is a good buddy though.” She said back.

Dad face flushed slightly... as if what he was going to say next was embarrassing.

“W-what about any other of the yahoo’s in town?”

“Dad... we aren’t going to talk about boys are we?” Bella said, her face starting to turn red too.”

“I guess not... with you at least.... How is everything going with you and Jasper, Fleur?”

I looked up confused, how did conversation about Bella’s relationships get turn into one about mine.

“It’s going well.”

“Good, I noticed you’ve been spending a lot more time with him lately. That car ride you took was a long one.”

“Oh yeah we drove out for a while... we looked at the stars... it was really nice. He told me I seemed stress and just decided to take me somewhere.” I said, I looked down at my hands while smiling.

Dad seeing this smiled too.

“I always liked that boy, you got yourself I good one.”

“I know I do.” I said finally looking up at him.

“I was only bringing up boys with you Bella because... I feel like I leave you alone too much.”

“I don’t mind being alone dad, I’m like you in that way.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Timeskip: Later that night.

I was in my room, thinking about what dad had said earlier... He found a bare human footprint in the woods. Could it of been the same footprint of the woman who’s body I seemed to be suck in during my dreams? Or could it of been someone else entirely? The wind from my open window got harsher for a second, I then heard a familiar soft thud on my floor. I turned my head, locking my eyes with his.

“What’s going on in that head of yours love?” Jasper asked

“Just thinking of something my dad said earlier...”

“What is it?”

“My dad said he found a bare human footprint down at Queets river today... He said it was heading east. Have you guys found anything yet?”

“No, we haven’t found anything, it’s starting to get frustrating. Have you had anymore dreams about those vampires?” 

“Nope... if it is them though, I have a feeling that print was just a trap to throw them off course.”

“I do too... hey, my family and I plan on playing baseball tomorrow, since Edward is inviting Bella... I thought you could come too.”

“Yes, I would love too, watching Emmett climb and crash into things is my favorite part of the game. That and all those tricks you do with the bat.”

“It’s a plan then, I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” I pecked his lips before getting comfortable in my bed, I was still a human... I needed some sleep. I laid there, Jasper behind me holding close.

“Tomorrow is going to be a fun day.” I thought to myself, before drifting off to sleep.

[pixiedoodlein]

I’m so fucking mad that a year and a half into this pandemic I am back to 11th hour debating another year of homeschool. The first stretch of homeschool, in NYC, when the toddler was a baby, and husband was home on unemployment, was good, nice even, a quiet piece of something good when the world outside was falling apart. The next stretch, the Oklahoma stretch, with a particularly climby toddler, husband working 10 hour days, me doing remote contract work, somewhere we had no family around to help w/ childcare, was challenging. I was not always my best self. Some days were delightful, muffins and math games. Other days I was more Miss Trunchbull than Miss Honey, fractions were squeezed in between crying (usually mine) and netflix (way too much of hers), and I held on to any shred of sanity by telling myself “just a little longer, just until the vaccines.”

Well here we are. Husband & I have been vaccinated for months, but the kids aren’t yet. The upstate NY town we moved to is a very small town (pop: 838), was mostly untouched by previous waves. When we got here, I couldn’t understand why everyone was so lax about it- no masks, no panic. Our first day here, when I came home from the market and saw through the window a gaggle of unmasked kids in my living room (the neighbors coming to welcome us, they heard a kid moved in) I almost had a heart attack. In fact, I was so tired from the drive from OKC that for a moment I actually thought I was at the wrong house, that I was hallucinating, because how in the world could there be unmasked bodies in my living room.

Then I started talking to people here. And I realized that the way I thought they were insane for not being deathly afraid of covid, they thought I was insane for being petrified. Because the disease hadn’t hit here; their businesses were destroyed and their kids were out of school (in a rural area with barely functional internet, remote school = a lost year) and their lives were totally fucked up, for a disease that never arrived at their doorstep. I came to understand why they weren’t worried, why here life looked (almost) normal. I told them about what it was like to live somewhere covid tore through, the freezer trucks of bodies on the FDR Drive and my previously healthy 27yld brother so sick with it the first spring he thought he was about to die (but too scared to go to a hospital), my dad’s relative in the next NYC wave on a vent for months and lucky to be alive but may never walk again, the doctors in OKC pleading on the news to please wear a fucking mask because the hospitals were fucking full, and the neighbors stopped thinking I was psycho when I carried extra masks for their kids, and made them put them on, when I took them to town for ice cream. I never stopped masking. But we did indoor dine here (once, BBQ, it wasn’t delicious enough for how anxious I felt) and I did bring all the kids, including my toddler, to a fairly crowded children’s museum in the big (small) city an hour away, where the rest of us were masked but the one with his hands in his mouth, who was all up in other kids’ faces, the one who really should be masked, wasn’t because he won’t leave it on for more than a minute.

Actually it’s a lie to say that I never stopped masking- I have dashed into little stores here, without one, because I’m vaxed! It’s safe here! Covid felt done. We had friends come here to visit this summer. Friends who are vaxed, but that doesn’t seem to really matter enough anymore. We had the neighbors over for meals, indoors (you see, more indoor dining! A minute ago I was just thinking restaurants, but why would plagues only spread in restaurants?). They had us for meals. The girls are a crew, new best friends, making my daughter’s life here so, so much happier, constant sleepovers (their kids were at our house this afternoon; my kid is at their house right now). The parents and grandparents are wonderful, making my life here, and husband’s life here, so much easier, so much better. We help them with stuff, they help us with stuff, there isn’t a day that goes by that we don’t see each other, unmasked. Some of the adults in their household are vaxed; some of the adults in their household are not. The kids are all too young to be vaxed. But it (living, doing shit again, seeing people again) really stopped feeling scary; it really felt like everything was fine, normal-ish, normal-er. The end of the pandemic felt in sight.

I signed my child up for school here. Real school, not mommy school, school with a school bus. She was a little anxious, I had to talk her into it, I sold it hard, I bought her whatever pair of new sneakers she wanted for her new school (she hasn’t had gym class in a year and a half; for a phase in Oklahoma she wore one boot and one sandal every day, why not). She wasn’t anxious about sneakers or covid; she was anxious that maybe she hadn’t learned enough in homeschool (I am not a teacher! I did not homeschool because I am good at it or love it or wanted to, I homeschooled because I was scared of her getting covid at school and dying), that she would be behind. She isn’t behind. I followed the real school curriculum as best I could (as in: sometimes totally and sometimes not at all), and somehow, when I gave her the standardized “real school” test “at the end of the year” (aka the day I couldn’t take it anymore, I had to focus on my work or I wasn’t going to have an income, the day I’d decided we’d done as much as we could and it was time to be done), she sailed through it, this kid is smart. Smart as in needs to be in actual real fucking school to stay smart and learn and reach her potential.

She got excited- one of the neighbor kids is in her grade. The other kid is older- but the school is small, she’d see her tons. She was excited; I was excited. I registered her for school. Her new teacher sent a nice note. We all were excited. She’s never taken the school bus before but the neighbors take it and she’d be fine on the bus with her besties, the bus would pick her up in front of their house since there’s nowhere to turn around up our hill (we are VERY rural), they’d all get on and off the bus together. She has been backpack shopping. We have been discussing what she’ll have for breakfast (honey nut Cheerios), what she wants me to pack for lunch (she says just Goldfish, I say turkey sandwich, we’re working on it).

But now, 18 days before school starts here, I am thisclose to pulling her out, to embarking on another lovely (not), gratifying (not) year of homeschool, because of covid, delta. When we got to our new home in our new tiny town in June, there was no covid here. Now, our county is listed by the CDC as a high transmission area (is there anywhere in the US that isn’t?). 80% of senior citizens here are vaxed; 50% of the total population is, well below the national average. 15 cases per 100,000, in a county of 100,000. I guess this is less rampant than our previous pandemic locales, NYC (currently 25/100K), OKC (49/100K). This is splitting hairs, everywhere is bad. This is what panic does to me: are we better or worse for every decision we’ve made in the past year and a half, every decision that got us here? There are fewer cases here but fewer people and fewer vaccinated people and fewer ICU beds. We aren’t safe even here, but at least we are happy (happy aside from fear of delta death).

I don’t know whether to send my kid to school in 18 days. There will be masks but masks aren’t enough (how many masks do I make her wear? two, ten, a thousand?). This choice feels crazy— in March 2020, when that covid was mostly sparing kids, I yanked her out of school. Now, this covid does hurt kids. How much longer, how many more years, can parents be in this position to make this nightmare choice? What will hurt her more: school or no school? There are vaccines, more than enough in America. We shouldn’t be having to make this choice.

As it is, because of toddler— not because of toddler, because of being a parent to children in a pandemic— my work life, and husband’s, will be severely impacted this year, again. I can’t send him to daycare because he’s too little to leave a mask on (he won’t even leave his pants on!) in a room full of other unmasked toddlers, whose families may or may not be vaxd, may or may not wear masks (there has been a noticeable increase in supermarket mask wearing since we got here, but still not enough, is any of it enough?), may or may not be going to parties and weddings and funerals, daycare providers who may or may not be doing all the same. This means I can only apply to remote jobs, so I can be home with him. Husband has some flexibility, more than he did in OKC, but god forbid he has to work while I have a work call or meeting or work due I didn’t manage to get done at 4am or 11pm when the house is quiet. He can’t bring toddler to work with him, his work is up on scaffold, stenciling ceilings. This will be another year of me muting myself on Zooms while toddler pulls his diaper off and hurls poop at the cat. Would it really be so much harder to also be trying to teach parts of speech to our daughter at the same time? Yes, it would, but I don’t know if I can send my kids back out into the world until they’re vaccinated. I am counting the days, holding my breath, until they can be.

I used to believe in personal choice. I don’t anymore. I want this shit to be mandated, I want the government to line us up and force mRNA into holdouts’ arms, I want it to be required, to be able to function in and interact with and benefit from society in any way, shape, or form. I have been very lucky in the pandemic. Privilege stacked on privilege on privilege, to be fussing over my Zooms in my hamlet. I had been pretty pandemic perky, baking my pies and playing with my pandemic pets and (thinking about) doing puzzles, but I’ve reached my breaking point. This shit could be done, but it’s not, and I’m scared it never will be.

[collecting-stories]

Car Lessons - c. 15 - Georgia

A/N: Fucking finally 😭😭

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

Daryl clenched his fist, trying to calm himself down as he stood at the front of your jeep with you. He had agreed to helping you with your car, had even been the one to suggest it originally, but spending the afternoon with you again, the way he used to, was a lot harder now. Knowing the way you felt for sure and knowing exactly what he felt, it was hard to stop himself from just telling you, giving in to the temptation of letting himself be with you. 

“At what point do you think we could take a break?” You asked, turning to look at Daryl, smiling at him with your best attempt at puppy dog eyes.  

“Barely even taught ya anything,” Daryl replied though he stepped away from the hood, wiping his hands on the rag from his back pocket.  

You had off from work today and a half-day at school as you prepared for spring break. Daryl had kept his word to teach you. Nearly a week of ‘car lessons’, as you had deemed them, had happened so far. Tara joined you on two occasions, picking up the knack much quicker than you were and actually getting along with Daryl, something you were grateful for.  

“I know but I’m kinda hungry,” You reasoned, “I think my mom’s trying to starve my dad out of the house.”  

“Thought she was happy he was home.” Daryl replied, watching you walk over to the picnic table in front of the camper and take a seat on it, feet stable on the bench beneath it.  

“It’s a catch-22,” you shrugged, noting the way Daryl’s eyebrow quirked when he didn’t recognize a phrase and explaining further, “she wants him home for appearances but she doesn’t want him home cause she’s seeing someone else.”

“E’rbody’ll find out anyway...what’s the difference?”

“The difference between my mom leaving my poor, working father or him abandoning his family?” You asked, pulling a face as he sat down beside you. You knocked your shoulder against his and smiled, “come on.”

He just hummed and nodded in return. It always came back around to the same thing, appearances. Your mom cared about the same thing everyone else in King County cared about, how they were perceived by their neighbors. Heaven forbid, anybody thought there was any fault to be had in your mother’s life. You had been living with the grief of that for a long time too but the more you had spent time with Daryl the less you cared what anyone else in town really thought of you.  

“You been alright?”  

“Do you always worry this much about me and you just don’t say it?” You asked, grinning at him. You’d been trying to drop hints for a week now that you still liked him and that you knew he liked you back, if only he would wise up to it and not pretend this was just some odd sort of friendship.  

He pushed himself off the picnic table, patting his jeans for the keys to his truck before holding them out to you, “come on, ain’t got any food here worth eating. Ya wanna drive ta Woodbury?”

“Me drive?” You asked skeptically, reaching for the keys from his outstretched hand. Just as you touched the keychain his pulled his hand away, a close-lipped smile on his face, “stop!” You laughed, hopping off the table and trying for the keys again.

Daryl closed his hand around them, holding tight as you grabbed his wrist, turning so you could put yourself between him and his arm, your back to his chest as you pried his fingers open. “You said I could have the keys.”

“Ya weren’t quick enough,” he nearly laughed, wrapping his other arm around your waist as if he could hold you off that way.  

Your fingers interlocked with his as you pulled the keys away, holding them above your head so he couldn’t grab them, looking back at him triumphantly. “Got ‘em.”  

He let you go, hand grazing your stomach and then pinching your hip as he stepped away from you, the faintest of pink tinged on his cheeks. Touching you was something he couldn’t resist and he’d gotten bolder about it since the first afternoon he’d spent with you but he still got embarrassed or self-conscious after the moment ended. But you ignored that moment, smiling at him as you shook the keys, showing off your win.  

“If I drive do I have to pay too?” You asked, walking to the truck.  

“Wouldn’t wanna put ya out.” He replied, pulling himself up into the passenger seat. Once you’d started the truck, he fiddled with the radio dial, turning it to something that he liked.  

“I know you never come to stuff that I invite you to but Maggie and I are having a joint graduation party, thought maybe I could extend an invitation.” You mentioned. Annette had sent out the official graduation party invitations a week prior, getting the slot for the second weekend in May before anyone else could try and claim it. “I know you hate people-”

“I don’t hate people.”

“You don’t like them.” You pointed out.

“Ain’t it.” He shrugged, “its the other way around anyway.”

“Well I’ll be there and I like you.” You said, looking over at Daryl and catching his eye for just a second before he turned away, lighting a cigarette to distract himself, “Tara’ll be there too.”

“I’ll think about it.”  

“Are you saying that cause you will think about it or because you want me to never ask you about it again so you’re humoring me?” You asked.

Daryl grinned around the cigarette in his mouth, “take your pick.”

You bit back a smile as you rolled the truck to a stop, casting your eyes down to the dash, “you’re low on gas,” you mentioned, noticing the dial lulling to the E.  

He nodded, a silent agreement that you could pull into Jacqui’s for gas. After your birthday you had stopped hanging around Daryl and it was as if everyone in town had gotten the memo about it. Patricia had even commented that she was glad you seemed to be “back on track” and whether you cared what they thought or not, when you started hanging out with Daryl again you had kept a low profile about it. This was the first time the two of you were going anywhere together during the day, when anyone could see you driving around in his truck.  

But you pulled into the gas station without a second thought, truck facing the window of the small store as you parked at a pump. “I’m not paying for this either.”  

“Yer unbelievable, ya know that.” Daryl rolled his eyes, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and handing some cash to you. “Just get $20...get me a pack of marlboro too. Jacqui’s always up my ass when I’m in there.”

“Oh yeah, cause she won’t be up mine?” You asked, taking the cash from him. You popped the door open and got out, turning back around to look at Daryl, “anything else?”

He shook his head.  

You shut the door as you stepped passed it, walking between the truck and the gas pump, heading inside the store and ignoring the car two spots down from you. All you were thinking about was the sheer relief you felt stepping inside the door and realizing that it wasn’t Jacqui behind the register. Small miracles, you thought, paying for the gas and asking for a pack of marlboro.  

“You front the bill for his drugs too?”

Your eyes practically rolled into the back of your head at the sound of Shane’s voice. You had been avoiding a majority of the people you knew from school since the fight at Shane’s house but he definitely topped the list.  

“Shut up Shane.” You mutter, grabbing the cigarettes from the cashier and turning to leave, pushing passed your ex-boyfriend. When you push the door open he follows you outside, stepping in front of you. Just over his shoulder, at the truck, Daryl looks over. He’d gotten out to pump the gas and the sight of Shane blocking your path had sparked his attention. “What?” You were still paying attention to Shane though and hadn’t noticed Daryl, “What do you want?”  

“I just wanna talk to you for a minute.” He reached for your arm and you stepped away from him. “I’m just trying to understand where you’re coming from. Hanging around that low-life? Showing up to my party with Aiden? Come on, guys like that don’t give a shit about you.”

“Wow, thank you for that amazing chat, I’ll put you down as concerned and delusional for thinking I give a shit about your opinion.” You started to step around him but he moved to block you again. “Shane...I swear to god, get the fuck away from me.”  

“I still have feelings for you.”  

“I have to go.” You pushed passed him, walking across the parking lot to Daryl’s truck, stopping just in front of him, “next time, you go inside.”

“He give ya any trouble?” Daryl asked, taking the pack of cigarettes and the receipt from you.  

“No, just being a general douche and trying to lecture me. I mean, where does he get off lecturing me?” You complained.  

Daryl hung the nozzle back up, closing the gas cap. He placed his hand on your arm as he passed you to walk around the front of the truck, placing a quick and surprising kiss to your head as he did, in full view of Shane. You grinned, sure that Daryl was turning pink from his ears to his chest because of the peck but not wanting to look at him and give Shane any more of your attention. You got in the driver’s side of the truck, finally glancing at Daryl as you pulled the car out of the parking lot.  

“You’re pettier than I thought you were.”  

“Ain’t petty,” he replied, smacking the new pack of cigarettes against the palm of his hand, “just want that Walsh kid off yer back.”

Daryl showing you any kind of affection or attention would probably have the exact opposite effect if you were honest but you certainly weren’t going to tell him that and discourage him. “I don’t like him but he can’t take a hint.”  

“Has he bothered ya before?” Daryl asked.

“Not for a few weeks,” you replied, “he came into the diner after the party but Otis told him to leave. Lori said he’s ‘passionate’ about me.”

“That ain’t passion.”

“I know.” You assured.  

Daryl looked over at you as you pulled up to a red light, “be careful if he comes around again.”

“You know, people tell me the same thing about you.” You teased and he scoffed.

“I wouldn’t ever hurt ya.”  

“I know.”  

You pulled the truck into the parking lot of the diner in Woodbury, parking in the same spot you had when you had driven there the first time. The familiar little diner was a welcomed sign in your life right now, as was Daryl. You knew the chances of him coming to your graduation were slim but you thought that resistance he had to letting himself be with you was slowly breaking, his resolve disappearing. He’d kissed the side of your head, for a split second, quicker than a blink of the eye, but he had done it and you couldn’t shake the feeling it had caused. The way all the annoyance and anger at Shane had just washed right off you when you looked at Daryl and how okay you felt when he touched your arm.  

“You should let me drive your truck more often,” you commented, handing the keys over as you walked inside with him.  

“I’ll think about it.” He replied.  

“Are you just saying that to humor me?”  

He looked back at you as the hostess grabbed two menus, the smallest of smiles crossing his face, the smugness of it making you smile back.  

-

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[prettywordsyouleft]

The Cowboy - Part 9

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol)

Word count: 2332

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

“Just one more,” you murmured, pressing your lips into Jaehyun’s before he could object.

He didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, chuckling softly when he separated. “You’ll have me late if you keep this up.”

“It’s not even light out yet,” you complained groggily, your hands blindly searching for a place to anchor onto.

“That’s the point. I need to get home, so I’m back in time to start the day when dawn arrives,” he reminded, reaching for those travelling hands and taking hold of them.

Your eyes had since adjusted to the dim lighting in the bedroom, and you noticed the embers from last night hadn’t yet been put out within Jaehyun’s gaze. You stoked the fire a little more, shifting your leg to nudge his.

Jaehyun groaned. “You’re tempting fate, Y/N.”

“I’m attempting something,” you mentioned demurely and shook your hands that Jaehyun still held.

“Not even my Mum has made me turn up on that yard late, I’ll have you know. I can’t be having you ruin my good reputation.”

You pouted, but nodded the further your slumber rolled away and your mind became alert. Unhooking your leg from his, you sighed. “Your career is important. Go be the best cowboy you can be.”

“You’re so cute, you know that?” he breathed, grinning from your supportive statement.

“I aim to be everything you need,” you announced and Jaehyun, who had pulled himself to the side of the bed and reached for his jeans, halted his movement, glancing over his shoulder in thought at you. You reached for your hair, assuming he was taking in your abominable morning state. “What? Do I look ugly?”

“No. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.”

“You better go before my heart starts ruling over this head of mine and I take back about being supportive of your needs and aim to satisfy mine,” you confessed, and Jaehyun shook his head, discarding his attempt to leave and kicked his pants off.

Crawling back to you, he gathered you up in his arms, a giggle leaving you when his hands brushed along your sensitive sides. Once fully captured within his arms, he kissed you passionately.

“Even if I’m late, you’re well worth putting in the extra effort this morning with.”

After Jaehyun had gone, with a final kiss exchanged at your front door and a warning about not answering the door looking like that to anyone but him, you headed back to your bed, nestling in under the warm covers in just one of Jaehyun’s t-shirts.

You were extremely happy right now.

And had been for the past month too. Everything was working well. You woke up most mornings feeling warm and appreciated, kissing Jaehyun off to work before eventually getting up and starting your own. You so far had acquired two signatures of landowners in Blayne over your proposal for redevelopment and was certain you’d have three more by mid next week.

You had chosen to go this path first before confronting Mr Jung with your proposition. Word travelled all too easily in these parts for you to rely on what was spoken was kept confidential. Part of you hoped for this to happen. If you got enough people talking about the redevelopment positively, you believed that would shape the head of the town’s opinion too.

It was a gamble, though, and the longer you spent racking up other names and parts of the land as opposed to the one Pierce instructed you to get meant you would be running out of time to convince Jaehyun’s father if he initially rejected your proposal.

You had confidence in your decision.

And that confidence clearly shone in other ways now too. “You know, I haven’t seen you this dressed down since you came to Blayne, Y/N.”

Glancing up at May as you stopped in for lunch with Reg, one of the landowners you were meeting with, you laughed lightly. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“You finally look like one of us, is what she means,” Dorothy, from the table over, chimed and you grinned at her.

“Do I? I wonder how I managed that, being a city-slicker and all.”

“I don’t think it’s about how, but rather whom,” May concluded, and you bit your bottom lip, trying not to smile with the image of Jaehyun surfacing in your mind.

“We had it pegged that it’d be Avery,” Reg chortled, and you spluttered on the water you had taken in, looking up and apologising profusely. The older man held out his hand to May. “Well, it’s not him. Pay up.”

“Not my boy? Surely it’s him that has you enjoying Blayne. Out of us all, he’s the most understanding to newcomers.”

“Are you making bets on my relationship status?” you asked, and the patrons of the diner all chuckled in one way or another. “Well, I’m sorry May, but I’m not dating Avery.”

“You didn’t deny dating someone else,” Josie, the only waitress, piped up and there was immediate silence as everyone stared at you.

“I’m dating Blayne,” you answered cheekily, and they all groaned with protest. “What? Call me a sucker for what I’m trying to do out here, but this place has changed me.”

You left out the part about a certain cowboy that had as well.

Word travelled too fast around this place.

“Avery is disappointed, you know,” Jaehyun mentioned when he stepped through the front door of your home later that evening. You glanced up at his arrival, dropping your laptop onto the couch and moved into Jaehyun’s waiting embrace.

After kissing Jaehyun in greeting, you smirked. “Word sure doesn’t struggle to get around here yet mobile data does.”

“You completely ruled my cousin off your it-list. The elders are scrambling about trying to figure who’s left to catch your fancy.”

“Have they suggested you at all?”

Jaehyun grinned and shook his head. “Not Jung’s boy.”

“Because you’re so exclusive.”

“I’m destined to marry a Blayne Belle, apparently.”

“So you’re either going to wait another six years until Melody is legal or pick up Josie? I mean, she looks great for forty.”

“Don’t!” Jaehyun exclaimed, encircling your waist with his palms. They felt hot against your barely covered skin. “Where are your clothes by the way?”

“I’m used to the summer weather being removed by air conditioning in my apartment,” you admitted, gesturing to your singlet and shorts with a sly smile. “And this is more than what I had on when you last saw me.”

“Wicked woman,” he stated and went over to a panel on the wall.

You followed Jaehyun and pointed at it. “I tried to turn it on, but it’s ancient and doesn’t have any instructions.”

“You’d be lost without your damn instructions, wouldn’t you?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes, peering around him to inspect his efforts.

“Do you know where the toolbox is in the truck?” he soon asked, and you nodded. “Can you get it for me?”

“Why, are you going to be Mr Handyman instead of Mr Cowboy to me now? Perhaps Avery might be a better option after all.”

“Har-har. If you want to learn how hellish this summer is going to get in the countryside when the heatwave hits next week then-”

“Toolbox. Onto it!” you cried, dashing outside into the humid evening and over to Jaehyun’s truck. After spotting it nestled just behind the passenger seat, you went to reach for it but stopped, your eyes travelling to the papers sitting on the chair you had just leaned over.

Picking them up, you read the contents and returned inside with the toolbox in a daze. “Thanks, Miss City. I’ll have you feeling cool in no time.”

“Were you going to tell me about the rodeo tour?” you queried in a small voice a moment later, and Jaehyun stopped looking through the box for what he needed and up at you.

He shot you one of his lopsided smiles, though his eyes were hesitant. “You’re concerned already? The rodeo season is basically over for this year, don’t worry.”

“I know. This is for next season, but the qualifiers are tomorrow.”

“I was planning on telling you tonight.” Standing back up and wiping his hands on his jeans, Jaehyun gauged your expression. “You know I do them from time to time. Old Joey from the county over popped by and offered me a horse to ride. It’s a real nice horse, gave him a test-”

“What about Blaze? What will he think?” you cut in and Jaehyun frowned. “He’s your riding horse.”

“He’s a work horse. And horses don’t really get offended if you ride another. You’re being weird about this.”

“I’m just confused. This morning I woke up thinking this weekend we’ll be going to the farmer’s market and maybe ride over to the lake and take a swim or something. Now I’m going to be on the sidelines of some rodeo? What do they call them? Rodeo Bunnies? Don’t expect me to become one.”

Jaehyun laughed heartily, scooping you up into his arms in a warm embrace. “You’re coming?”

“Of course. I have to.”

“Why?”

“Why are you asking why? I’m supportive of your endeavours,” you answered, puzzled by the smile spreading Jaehyun’s lips out further. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like a girlfriend would support me?”

“Girlfriend?” you echoed and let out an awkward laugh.

“Is it more for you now, Miss City? A whole month of you and me having this secret rendezvous and you might be feeling something deeper than my skin for me, huh?”

“Do-don’t you have to fix the air-con? It’s hot in here.”

“Stifling.”

“And if you’re going to some rodeo thing, don’t we need to sleep early or something?”

“Are you flustered, Y/N? You’re awfully good at not answering my question.”

“What question was that now?” you diverted, slipping out from under his strong arms and over to the toolbox. “Which one do you need?”

“All of you. That’s all I need,” Jaehyun confirmed, coming back to your side, kissing the top of your head before taking the tool you held in your left hand and got to work.

You arrived on the Jung’s property around six the following morning, travelling in your car separately. Whilst June was aware of your ruse, and no doubt Avery had strong suspicions, Jaehyun had asked to keep your relationship on the low for now. At first, you had agreed. You had a job to complete and complicating that with personal affections could ruin your credibility.

Still, it was hard to keep your hands off of Jaehyun when he came out from his room above the stables. “Wow, you know I’ve been calling you a cowboy from day one because of the hat and boots but I didn’t realise just how much this shirt was missing from the picture until now.”

Jaehyun glanced at his rodeo shirt, tassels and all, before shooting you an embarrassed smile. “Get a real good look at it today, Miss City. I don’t dress up like this often.”

“Another reason why he’s single, I’m sure,” his father gruffly mentioned, patting his son on the shoulder. You realised the older man was proud for some reason. All this time, you assumed he only cared for Jaehyun by the level of work he did around the farm.

Perhaps that was because Jaehyun was adamant that was all he cared about. However, as you watched the interaction fondly, you realised the man had a lot of love for his son. Jaehyun mentioned he had been on the sure-fire track to going pro as a teen on the rodeo circuit last night. You wondered if Mr Jung wanted that for him and felt guilty for needing him to help on the farm.

Either way, it warmed your heart to see a nervous Jaehyun, and his father equally acting out of character for once.

“Don’t you go worrying about marriage for our son today,” June fussed, straightening out Jaehyun’s collar as you had been itching to do. She smiled up at him. “Come home in one piece.”

“Of course, he will. We can’t be having Y/N’s first rodeo dashed with any hospital visits,” Avery commented, arriving at your side and slinging an arm over your shoulder. “You and I need to do some talking about the earful I got from my mother last night.”

You giggled awkwardly. “I’m sorry about that.”

“You’ll be sorry when they start trying to hook you up with all the eligible men in Blayne. Dorothy is convinced you’d suit her boy, Jacob.”

Jaehyun snorted. “Y/N’s a little too high maintenance for Jacob.”

“Am I now?” you retorted, waving off Jaehyun’s parents who were staying behind to look after the farm. Hopping into the cab of Jaehyun’s truck and looking at Avery who got in after you, you scoffed loudly. “If I was too much high maintenance, I’d recommend we take my vehicle over this one. At least, I’d be convinced we’d get there on time, for one.”

Jaehyun glared at Avery’s somewhat stifled snort before patting the steering wheel of the truck. “Don’t you worry. This old beauty of mine will get us there with ease. It’s you we have to concern ourselves over.”

“Me?” you wondered, and Avery nodded. “Why me?”

“Rodeos are a whole other world, Y/N. I bet you won’t be ready for what’s about to happen.”

“It’s people riding horses and taking on cows or something with ropes. I’ve seen it on TV,” you assured the cousins, who looked at one another with loose grins forming.

“She’s not ready for this.”

“Nope. Not a chance.”

“Would you two just shut up, and Jaehyun, start driving. Watch me prove how-”

“Adaptable you are,” both boys chimed, and you rolled your eyes, trying not to smile as Jaehyun finally threw the truck into reverse and headed down the driveway towards your first rodeo.

_________________

Part 10

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[libertarianblue]

what is the difference between capitalism and corporatism?

This is a big question to get before bed if we do a deep dive, especially given how many different flavors there are of corporatism (and depending on how much of a stickler you are for textbook vs colloquial definitions) and if you want to debate how mixed an economy can get before you stop thinking of it as capitalism, but it should be easy enough to cover in broad, shallow strokes.

Say you open up a lemonade stand. Your lemonade is pretty good, and eventually you open up several more stands throughout town and eventually the county. Eventually you're running a nationwide empire of kiosks in malls etc and turning a profit based on the merit of your product and service. You continually adjust your business strategy based on market demands and your company's position, because you know that you fail or succeed on your ability to run the business and stay profitable. The government largely leaves you alone. This is basically capitalism.

Now say you open a lemonade stand and initially it starts out the same. But things plateau once you get to the state level, maybe some competitors are eating into your market share. You lobby the state government to set licensing requirements or maybe you increase minimum wage or regulatory fees, whatever it is you're doing it's something where your larger business can bear the cost and your fledgling competitors will drown. You buy up your competition at a steal and go national. Now you go to the federal government and get them to say you own the rights to produce lemonade, it's illegal for anyone else to make it because it's all yours. Years later there's a market shift. There's a recession so people stop spending so much money on prepared food and drinks, and there's also a low-sugar diet sweeping the nation so your product is much less in demand. Revenue tanks. You go back to the government and argue that you employ so many thousands of people, and engage in business with so many suppliers, that allowing your business to tank will worsen the recession. The government agrees, labels you as "too big to fail," and forces the taxpayer to bear the cost of your failing business. You get billions of dollars from the government as a bailout, give yourself a bonus of several tens of millions of dollars (don't forget to contribute some of this to the campaigns of your new politician buddies!), and don't invest in anything to make your company more recession proof or diversified in case of future market shifts. After all, why would you? You're married to the government now, and they'll keep throwing money at you as long as you keep them happy and maybe doing them shady favors. This example is much closer to American style corporatism.

I got a bit carried away with my examples but I still barely scratched the surface but hopefully I did an okay job painting a picture of the real basic differences. Basically think of capitalism as following the "invisible hand of the market" or what have you, and think of corporatism as being closer to the systems you see in places like China (fascist governments usually follow a similar but different model of corporatism, as do places like Russia). Effectively, "Supposedly mixed economy but it sure doesn't feel like it" or maybe "Capitalism on the outside, government control on the inside."

I really hope I didn't bungle this explanation given what time it is and what time I was supposed to be in bed. If anyone reads this feel free to chime in if you feel like I was too confusing, misleading, o outright wrong.

[helenarlett-rex]

So today was a day...

Not more than 10 minutes after opening the doors at work this morning I had a man try to enter the building without a mask. As I was stationed at the door this morning I offered the man a fresh mask and informed him that we are requiring people to wear masks inside the building. He ignored me by telling me that he already checked with the county commissioner and there is no county mandate for people to wear masks then walked right past me into the building. I quickly followed after him, trying to inform him that it was library policy that had nothing to do with county mandates but he again refused to listen to me and started rambling on with the same speel, refusing to listen to me. And the kicker was... he didn’t even want to use the library... He just wanted to return his books. Books he could have very easily put in the drop box right outside the door. But instead of doing that, he wanted to walk into the building without a mask to return them. In other words, he wanted to swing his dick around and prove to me he could do anything he wanted and I couldn’t stop him.

This of course went into an incident report I had to spend the morning filling out... Just because this asshole wanted to feel like no one could tell him what to do, I was forced to spend the morning filling out paperwork when I really needed to be doing other things, putting me way behind in my duties for the day. Something simple that would have taken him all of ten seconds, or even less than that if he had used the book drop, ended up costing me an hour and a half of my time which I really didn’t have to spare in the first place...

But that was only the start of my horrible day... Because the rest of the day was filled with similar people just like him who all felt the need to make our lives miserable over the covid precautions put into place in the library. As it turns out, there was to be a board meeting at the end of the day held there at the library. A full board meeting consisting of the board members of both our library and the board members of our sister library in the next town over. And one of the topics on the agenda was discussing what covid precautions were to be taken going forward. Knowing this, the local rat lickers had apparently decided to start attacking us early, and keep at it thoughout the day, almost as if they were trying to wear us down and beat us into submission before the meeting even took place.

When my library director arrived at work that afternoon, she asked me to personally attend the meeting because she had added the incident report to the agenda and wanted me there if they had any questions. I agreed to attend. And when the day came to an end and the board meeting was begin, I received the unfortunate privilege of getting to bear witness to a mob of the worst, most entitled collection of plague rats our community had to offer.

I watched as somewhere around fifty unmasked people consisting of Covid Karen’s and their entire families came pouring into the library like a group of disease infested rats scurrying off of the docks of Messina. But they weren’t satisfied to just fill the building and breath their germs all over everyone. The moment they approached the area set up for the board meeting to take place, the began instantly, and loudly showing their complete disregard for the precautions the library was trying to take. Many of them loudly announcing that they had no intention of social distancing as they began moving all the chairs that had been set up for them to ensure they were as close together as possible. I myself was forced to leave my seat when a woman scooted her own so close to me she may as well have been sitting in my lap and then further refused to allow me to move my chair away from her. I was in fact forced to stand through the entire two hour meeting because it was the only way to distance myself from the rowdy crowd intent of breathing directly down my neck.

Even without the concern of covid, I have been diagnosed with PTSD and I don’t like people getting too close to me. But this angry mob that would have looked more at place gathering outside of Frankenstein’s castle with torches and pitch forks, many of whom would go on to complain about how masks were violating their medical rights, showed no concern for my own medical rights...

As soon as the meeting began, the board opened the floor to take comments from the public and what proceeded was a literal dick swinging competition as every Karen in attendance took their turn giving prepared speeches that went through the list of every rumor, conspiracy theory, easily disproven fact, bit of misinformation with no basis, and argument of having their freedoms taken away that anyone has ever heard in argument against covid safety. Each one trying their best to top the person who spoke before them with the rest of the crowd erupting in loud cheers and applauds at the end of each speech in what can only be described as the largest circle jerk I have ever witnessed.

Many of them even forced their children, some of them too young to even understand what was going on, to stand up and talk in front of the board for sympathy points...

When the floor was finally closed to comments, and the board began going over the topics on the agenda, the ill mannered crowd continued to interrupt as if it was their own meeting and they were only allowing the board to sit in on it. They had to be told several times by the board that their time to speak was over and still they continued to interrupt and even attempt to intimidate the board.

And then, after a period of topics the foaming plague rats didn’t understand or have any interest in, the moment finally came to discuss the matter of covid precautions moving forward. And to my horror... the proposal was immediately made by a member of our sister library’s board to immediately put an end to all policy and precaution related to Covid-19. I wasn’t surprised by this... I’ve long known that the director of our sister library was a rabid Red Hat, foaming at the mouth herself, and had likewise surrounded herself with like-minded people. But that made the horror no less real as this dead eyed, unmasked man who looked as if his heart should have been beating under the floorboards of an Edgar Allan Poe story, stated that he would accept no exceptions or amendments to anything other than pretending covid had never happened.

This decrepit old vulture went so far as to prevent the rest of the board from making any further suggestions and forcing a vote on the matter, all while exchanging winks with the mob of plague rats from the one eye that still worked. And when the vote was forced it came down to a 50/50 split. Every member of my library’s board voting against the proposal, with every member of our sister library’s board voting in favor of it.

And with the vote ending in a tie, it fell to the board’s trustee to cast the tie breaking vote... A man who is so out of touch with the actual workings of the library, and has so little regard for the members of staff who keep the library running... that after knowing the man for eight years he still doesn’t know my name and continues to tell me what his name is and where his library card is located every time he checks out a book... (Yes... I know who you are... Yes, I know your card is in the box under staff... And no... my name is not Bill so stop calling me that... Bill quit six years ago...) A treatment every member of staff receives from the man I might add... (Just how many people named Bill does he think works there...?) A man who’s term limit on the board is up and this was to be his last board meeting, no less... So regardless what decision he made, he wouldn’t have to stick around to deal with the fallout of such a decision... And this was who the deciding vote was given to...

Naturally he voted in favor of the proposal and just like that I watched as every ounce of safety I had in my job was stripped away while the disease bearing pestilence in attendance all cheered like a group of rednecks who had just been told the south finally won the Civil War. (A war many of those in attendance no doubt still believe is going on if the flags flying from that backs of their pickup trucks are any indication.) No longer would masks or social distancing be required inside the building. In fact, it can’t even be suggested... Occupancy and time limits are no more. Hours of operation are to be restored to full time... A feat I am still confused as to how we are to manage considering we barely have enough staff members to keep the library open for seven hours a day and no takers on open job positions... For a moment it almost sounded as if my own right to wear personal protective equipment was to be taken away, although my own director has informed me she will not enforce that and I am free to continue wearing whatever I would like. Although her ability to allow this remains to be seen...

But there you have it. A library staffed primarily by immunocompromised employees had its right to protect the well-being of said employees  taken away based on the decision of a completely different library in a different town, an ineffectual old man on his last day on the job, and a raving mob of entitled vermin using intimidation tactics and threats of lawsuits. (Because yes, they did threaten lawsuits...)

All that remains to be seen now is if I will even continue to have a job in the wake of this decision. Because the board who decided to strip us of the only feeling of security we had, is in fact the same board who has time and time again refused to pay us anything more than minimum wage while every other business around us is currently hiring at double what we are making. If our job is no longer any safer than any other job, what’s to keep us from leaving for someone who would pay more? I’ve worked there for eight years and I can go anywhere else and get twice what I make as a starting pay... I think it would be quite funny if all of the people who demanded we drop our safety precautions so they could enjoy the library in a way that was convenient for them suddenly came back the next day to find it closed entirely due to having no staff.

Oh and the incident report I was asked to attend the meeting was glossed over by the board who no longer had any interest in punishing people for breaking rules they had just decided to do away with. So the extra two hours taken out of my day were for nothing as well...

[mihidecet]

Sbi&Co d&d AU: Fundy & Niki

AKA: Tibi's MCYT WritingTober, day 23!

SURPRISE!! As for @spout1nk and @awebo 's lovely requests, here is the chapter where we get to meet Fundy and Niki!!

This is also, once again, a fill for @the-only-gamer-gost 's list of prompts!! I got myself another free day aahahah

I do hope you'll like it! And as always, make sure you check out @whatimevendoinhere 's stunning drawings!!! They made art of Fundy and it is so good yall.

It starts like this: the whole gang is looking for a new job to tackle, with Techno, Tommy and Tubbo looking at the town's mission board and Wilbur and Phil needling the town's guard for more high profile tasks.

Half an hour later, a bored and disappointed trio meet up with a radiant Wilbur and an impressed Phil.

They have a job and the pay is five times higher than normal.

Apparently some dumbass has been running around the county, scamming nobles with fake artifacts and cursed precious objects. The nobles are mad, they want their coins back and the scammer in jail - or possibly worse -, and they are willing to pay an embarrassingly high amount of coin for it to be done quickly and quietly. Quietly being the highest requirement.

And that is how the SleepyBois start tracking this infamous scammer down.

First, they find all of the victims.

That alone takes them a while, because nobles are tricky to navigate and scorned nobles are even worse - and somehow these scammed nobles all seem to be not that good people, if the way they treat the adventurers trying to help them is any indication.

Still, one may assume that spending a lot of platinum coins on things that turn out to be fake and haunted might make you a bit … confrontational.

Also, they're going to make a lot of coins out of this job, so it's not like they're going to say anything.

Then, they buy a new, spotless map of the region with about a quarter of their collective coins - “Philza Greenwood we should have accepted the one from the kind old lady.” “You know that was cursed, we’re not doing this again.” - and start writing down every location hit.

It’s not that hard, once they put Tubbo to work, to find a handful of possible towns their target is going to hit.

It's honestly impressive how quickly he's able to narrow their options down, sending Techno and Wilbur out for recon missions to specific locations, guiding the whole team in a weirdly familiar way; straightforward and decisive like Techno, gentle and responsible like Phil, switching between the two attitudes as easy as he breathes.

Wilbur's only seen him like this when he works on his creations before, and it's amazing how quickly he gets over the initial sheepishness and steps into his role.

Everything is good and wonderful and he fits perfectly into the team, and this is just another proof of it.

The only bad thing about the whole situation is how bloody smug Tommy is, since it had been his idea to let Tubbo handle the planning - the kid can gloat, Wilbur's got to give him that, even if he is right in doing that.

Ever since the two childhood best friends had reunited, Tommy has been … more. Not in a bad way - no matter how much Techno jokingly groans about it -, but it's evident how much there was something weighing on the kid's mind before this.

But right now it's not really the best time to think about this.

A couple of nights ago, Tubbo had narrowed the list of possible new noble families that were going to be hit down to a single name. An old timey, very strict and reclusive family, now mainly composed of two grandparents and an impressive array of disowned young adventurers, and workers of all types. Reasons for disowning were many and varied and all a bit ridiculous.

Apparently having a bad temper and even worse record of mistreating everyone around you was the common denominator for all the people being targeted, alongside having an extremely absurd amount of coin.

Phil knows, he's seen it in Wilbur's eyes the moment Tubbo told everyone his deductions, that the tiefling would be more than happy with just letting the scammer go with a slap on the wrist. Everyone is slowly leaning towards that, Phil himself is too, but he's not really going to mention that yet, especially as they're all gearing up to stalk the scammer back to their hideout.

Especially since they can't really let this chance go: the fact that Tubbo was able to narrow their options down to a single family means that if this isn't it, they'll have to start from scratch.

When they leave the tavern, packed light and ready for the expected stealth, it's a couple of hours before dawn.

Everyone is thankfully able to see in the dark - even Tubbo, who is a human like Tommy, since he used his knowledge of glass-making and arcane enchantments to forge himself some night vision goggles - and they move quickly in the shadows, their silhouettes hidden even more due to one of Phil's spells.

This is also the first time Tubbo's bees aren't making any sound - apparently their buzzing is purely aesthetic.

Reaching the family's manor is not hard nor it takes longer than expected, which is quite unusual considering their experiences. Once they reach their destination, they hide near the entrance then Techno vanishes - probably gone inside the main gates to see if their target has already arrived.

About fifteen excruciating minutes later, Techno reappears, one hand already on Tommy's mouth to prevent him from yelping in surprise and reveal their position. The fact that he is perfectly correct in his assumption doesn't prevent him from receiving a swift kick to the shin.

"He's inside. Seems human, dressed like a scammer would be dressed. Or a very extravagant seller. Showing off a floating statue." Techno relies the information as he rubs the now sore spot on his leg, side eyeing a very offended Tommy while Tubbo is red faced almost to the point of tears as he desperately tries not to burst out laughing.

"Good job." Phil confirms, trying very hard to stay focused on the task - this all is extremely useful information, both in case of a possible fight breaking out and because in all the time they've been searching for the scammer, they've had nothing but mixed information from their targets.

One time it's a sweet looking cleric, another time they're a buff half orc, then it's a tiefling with a missing horn- every time something new, but the only constants have been the extravagant clothing choices and them being a magic user.

Wilbur punches the air with gusto, conveying silently what everyone is more or less feeling, and then they resign themselves to some uncertain amount of time of patiently and quietly waiting.

Phil has a spell to hide them again ready for whenever they hear somebody getting close.

Techno takes the time to meditate.

Wilbur is tapping a finger against his leg with his eyes closed, so he's probably writing a song in his mind.

Tubbo is taking notes on his notebook, planning another upgrade for his crossbow.

Tommy is about to vibrate out of his skin.

Everything according to plan.

Then, finally, Phil hears footsteps approaching the gates.

He casts his spell, shadows elongating from the trees they are hiding in, wrapping around them, covering them, fake greenery taking form in front of them- and everyone is instantly on edge.

"Are you sure you don't want a totem? They're good luck! They'll protect you against evil spirits - those old crooks must be beacons for them!" A quick paced voice reached their ears, and Techno's dagger is already out.

A much quieter voice answers - only Phil manages to catch the irritated negative answer, but everyone hears the gates being slammed shut.

There's more footsteps, then their target enters most of their views.

The man - probably? - takes some steps, back straight and shoulders moving with a light chuckle - when his eyes stray towards them.

He blinks once, twice, then his eyes switch colour.

He stops in his tracks.

Raises a hand and gives a quick wave.

"Uhm … cya!" And then he disappears, vanishing into thin air.

Techno curses loudly next to Tommy.

"Wilbur-"

The tiefling stands up and his eyes turn pure black as he raises a hand towards the place where he disappeared, muttering a quick song under his breath before calling out:

"Tubbo!"

A bolt from the kid's crossbow flies in the direction Wilbur's pointing at a split second later.

It flies, but doesn't strike true, barely grazing the scammer's jacket as the man moves out of its way. Right into Techno's thrown dagger which hits him right in the side.

There's a loud, weirdly pitched "shit!" coming from the empty air in the space in front of them, then nothing but the sound of someone fleeing as silently as they can.

Instead of following suit, like one would expect, the rest of the group turns towards Techno, who's holding his dagger - now back into his hand - and mouthing a prayer against the stained blade.

There's a light humm coming from nowhere and everywhere that echoes in Techno's mind for a moment, then he opens his eyes.

"So, do you have him?" Tommy asks, feeling the urge to pursue their target itching under his skin.

"Yup, I've got him. Nice job with the crossbow, Tubbo." Techno answers, shooting a small smile to his short companion, who shakes his weapon proudly.

"It's quite easy to shoot in order to make people move a certain direction, you know, once you know what to do!"

Tracking down the scammer is quite easy now that Techno has cast his tracking spell on him.

They wait for a moment, reconvene, make sure they have everything they need and then they start moving.

They don't have to walk much, as Techno lets them know that their target has stopped moving and they're getting closer extremely quickly.

In the end, it's a small, cute looking wooden house that they reach. It seems small and well kept, with clean windows and bright flowers on the outside. It's a bit hidden amongst a thicker part of the forest, but it gets enough light to be comfortably illuminated.

Wilbur figures the scammer ran and hid here, in hope of either having them lose his tracks or to maybe use a civilian as human shield.

Phil gestures towards the house, to which Techno answers with a decisive nod, so the elf approaches the door and knocks.

"Hello?" A feminine, accented voice answers from behind the door.

"Hi, I'm very sorry to disturb you, we're a group of adventurers looking for a runaway criminal, have you perhaps seen anyone suspicious running around?" There's a beat of silence, then a long, drawn out humm.

"I'm very sorry but I don't think I can help you with that? I was busy baking inside, I haven't seen anyone." The voice answers back, seemingly sheepish and apologetic.

Wilbur takes a step forward, shooting a glance towards a suspicious looking Techno.

"Our apologies, but would you mind letting us rest inside your abode for a little while? We've been out all night looking for clues, and we will pay you for your kindness."

After a slightly longer than expected pause, the sound of keys jingling reachea the team's ears.

"Oh, yes, of course. It's a bit small here, but- We can make it fit."

Phil knows enough Celestial to recognise the accent in the woman's voice; seeing her almost aethereal being open the door cements in Phil's mind the fact that yes, the person in front of him is of Celstial descent - that, and the dusting of silver and golden freckles across her face.

"Oh my, there- there's a lot of you."

Phil gives a sheepish smile, an apology ready on his lips - she is hiding their target, for some reason, but that doesn't mean he's going to be rude about it - but Tommy is already striding towards the entrance.

"We'll be good and squeeze together, promise!" He exclaims, quickly hitting Wilbur in the side with his elbow as he passes him.

The tiefling shoots him a murderous glare, which instantly disappears and turns into a kind smile the instant he realises that the aasimar woman is looking at him questioningly.

"Are you all part of the same group?" She asks as they shuffle in. The house is slightly bigger than expected, with everything looking both very clean and very lived in - books left open on a table, a chair that hasn't been set back, a blanket thrown on an armchair instead of being folded properly. It's homely.

There are a couple of colourful looking birds flying around the place, and they instantly flock to Phil the moment he enters the kitchen - following the woman's instructions. To be fair, there are plenty animals hanging out in the whole house: he's sure he heard a squirrel running in the corridor, and there were a couple of tortoises in the living room.

And then, on the window sill next to the kitchen table there is a fox, sleeping curled up under the sun. Techno, on edge from the tracking and the oncoming social interactions, really envies the tranquil animal.

"Is there anything you need? Something to drink, maybe? I was making some bread, so-" the woman starts, taking out a still smoking loaf. Everyone but Phil is instantly glowing: how often are you offered freshly baked bread? And mostly for free? That really is something special, that must be surely cherished.

And yet, Phil is not looking at the woman - who is still yet to introduce herself - but at the fox. Still sleeping peacefully, after they'd opened a single eye at the sound of strangers entering the room.

"That is very kind of you, miss …?" Wilbur asks, eyes constantly switching between the offered food and the stranger's face.

"Oh, you can call me Niki."

Phil moves closer to the fox with a small smile, one bird still perched on his shoulder, and extends a hand slowly, hoping not to startle the animal.

The fox blinks slowly at the fingers floating right in front of their eyes, then huffs and moves their head so that Phil can start giving them little scratches, tail swishing lazily - all this, while the rest of the team does a round of introductions.

"Niki, your fox is adorable." Phil comments after a moment, while the others are eagerly helping out Niki in finding a knife to cut slices of bread with and honey, which apparently she makes herself.

"Ah yeah, thank you. His name is Fungi." She answers with a small smile, making Phil chuckle. The fox's tail keeps swishing from side to side, probably to convey his appreciation of the continuous pets he's receiving, but one of his front legs seems to not be making any movement. A quick, focused, look confirms his suspicions.

"Oh dear, he seems hurt. Let me heal him for you." Phil comments, worry colouring his tone, as he focuses his intent into the palm of his hand, lightly resting on the injured limb.

As his magic knits back muscle and tissue and blod cells, Phil watches intently as the stab wound shrinks and then disappears. Then, he picks the fox up, cradling him in his arms as Niki gets closer, a look of deep worry on her face - one of the first true emotions she's shown since they got there, Phil notices, which only serves to confirm his suspicions.

"Oh, thank you so much, I'm so very glad, he just keeps getting into messes!"

There's a moment of pause, then Phil starts scratching the fox's chin - his tail starts wagging noticeably quicker.

"Did you know foxes are known for their cunning, but they're actually pretty dumb?" Phil starts, prompting everyone to turn towards him in shock and deep confusion.

Phil merely chuckles.

"You agree, right, little guy? I can see it in your eyes, there's nothing going on in that little brain of yours, right?" He teases, cooing at the little animal before- in a mix of slightly disturbing deformations and a blink-and-you-miss-it transformation - the fox in his arms suddenly enlarges, his limbs elongating and face rounding out.

Now, this would have probably come as a big surprise to akl but instead it looks quite funny because the moment the small fox becomes a human sized man with for ears, all the instantly added weight crashes into Phil and sends them crashing down to the ground.

But since they've all gotten used to a skinchanger moving from their human form to their animal one, one way or another, all that remains is the hilarouns scene of a laughing out loud Phil sprawled on the ground with their red faced, extremely irritated target kneeling on top of him.

"Fuck you, man! That was so mean!"

For a moment everyone is just staring at each other, trying to understand what has happened, until when Techno speaks up.

"Well I guess we found our scammer."

[daydreaming-cheese-weasel]

community wild west au

okay, it’s a bit different from what i posted in the rough draft of ideas thing, but here it is!! this is part one, bc i think the whole thing is gonna end up longer than i thought lol

     Annie knew she couldn’t stay here forever. It was a small town, and she always knew, somewhere deep down, that she would move on to bigger things someday. But that didn’t make it easier to be forced to leave. This was all she had ever known- playing kick the can with the younger children of her father’s patients while they got their medications, playing dress up with her mother, beating the dust out of their clothes during windy season with her brother. She knew she had to face the truth. She wasn’t welcome here anymore. If she had just known when to quit, she wouldn’t be in this situation... that’s what she beat herself up on while she silently bagged the cheese and apples her mother had paid good money for. If she wasn’t such a petty child, she could have stayed here forever... that’s what she thought while she stole the medication from her father’s office that could have helped so many people. But it was too late now, she thought as she reached the town’s limits, just before sunrise, wearing a form fitting vest given to her by her mother for her 18th birthday, taking on last look at the life she lost.

     Troy never cried. That’s what he told himself, anyway, tilting his hat so that Abed wouldn’t be able to see his face. But looking at that poor horse, wincing in pain as Abed cleaned his wounds made a tear run a path down his dusty cheek. Abed was gentle with the animal, of course. Troy’s boyfriend would never ever hurt anyone, regardless of what the townsfolk used to whisper behind Abed’s back. Troy felt a flame in his stomach just thinking about them. And how terribly they always treated Abed. They were gone now, just memories of the past. Troy was free; that’s all he ever wanted.

     Abed wondered where this horse had come from and how he gotten hurt as he gingerly wrapped his bright red bandanna around the horse’s front leg. It was almost the same color as the blood dripping rhythmically into the dirt. He glanced up at Troy standing a few feet away from where he was kneeling by the light brown horse. He could tell he was trying and failing to control his deep emotions, something Abed never had much trouble with. This horse represented Troy in a way, he thought. A little bit in pain, but nothing he couldn’t fix. Abed never expected to “fall” for his best friend. Especially since he didn’t fall in love- more like slowly slid into it. Drawing his attention away from Troy’s face, solemn yet “ruggedly handsome”, as the women in town would say, he realized that when the horse was healed, he would long to run again. To be free. But Abed was already rather attached to the poor thing. He wanted to see if he could bond with him so that the horse could have a way to survive and Troy and Abed wouldn’t have to continue their journey on foot. But would the horse ever outgrow their relationship? What would happen to Abed if this horse one day grew dissatisfied with his life, even though Abed had become reliant on him? He pushed the insecure questions out of his head and instead gave the horse some water to drink from his canteen, to try and gain his trust. 

There wasn’t supposed to be any run ins on the way to Annie’s grandma’s house in Greendale County, a few towns over. She had heard stories of the people who would be on these kind of roads. Bandits, thugs- people who Annie didn’t have much experience with in her sheltered life back in town. But when she saw two figures and a horse laying on the ground, she knew she had to keep going, even if it killed her. This was the only way to get to Greendale where, hopefully she could stay- maybe even get a job and start her new life. With that hope in mind, she trudged on under the hot sun. She was tiring quick. She clearly didn’t know what she was getting herself into when she left, just hours ago. But she had no choice. Who knew, maybe these strangers could help her get to Greendale.

Troy and Abed exchanged a glance as the strange girl explained her situation.

“My father is a doctor, that’s why I have all these medications, I’m bringing them to Greendale,” Annie lied, fluttering her eyes, trying to look innocent. “But a few miles back, I crossed paths with some bandits! Th-they stole my dear horse, Ruthie and if you could spare just, just a few-“ Then she cut herself off, throwing in some tears for effect, really pouring in what her mother would call, “the sugar and honey”. Anybody you met would take pity on a sad sight like that, with her doe eyes and quivering lip.

“Look, ma’am, we don’t have any extra money, just barely enough for ourselves,” Troy told her. “Surely a girl like you could run those meds back to your daddy without any difficulty.” It was true that they had nothing to spare, but the girl didn’t have much to her and Troy felt a pang in his heart as he turned away from her and to the horse.

“No, you don’t understand! I need to get to Greendale!” Annie pleaded. She was only a day into her journey and her feet were throbbing in her boots, her throat dry.

“I’m sorry. I wish we could help you, but we have other things on our plate right now,” Abed said in his usual monotone voice (that didn’t make him sound very sorry, Annie thought), gesturing to the horse Troy was petting reassuringly.

“I-I can help your horse! How about a deal? You take me to Greendale, and I’ll help your horse,”she said. Troy perked up and glanced at Abed.

“An intriguing offer,” Troy murmured to himself.

“How would you help him?” Abed wondered aloud. The horse was looking worse by the minute.

“The medications! It works for people, it must work for horses, too, right?” she said, not even bothering to hide the desperation in her voice as her head pounded from dehydration.

“I thought that was for the people in Greendale,” said Troy.

“They... they don’t need it that bad,” Annie stammered, caught in a lie. The truth was she had hoped to sell the meds on the way to buy some food, but striking up a deal would work even better. Troy and Abed looked at each other, seemingly reading each other’s mind. The girl was obviously lying about why she needed to get to Greendale. Annie cleared her throat, bringing their attention back to her.

“Give us a minute to discuss it,” Abed told her. The men walked over to where they had dropped their supplies- sleeping bags, water, and food- leaving Annie with the horse.

“She’s desperate,” Troy said.

“She’s lying” Abed replies.

“We can’t push her; if she doesn’t want to tell us why she’s going to Greendale, we can’t make her.” Troy knew what it was like to want to shut down from the outside. Abed considered this for a moment.

“Okay. If you trust her, I’m with you. We were going that way, anyway. Plus, the horse needs help.” Troy grinned. He went on his tiptoes to kiss Abed’s cheek. He smiled at him.

“Thank you Abed,” Troy said, in that tender voice that Abed slid into love with.

“Let’s bring her some water, she looks like she’s going to pass out any second.”

Thanks for reading!! Reblogs are appreciated if you enjoyed it! Part two will be where they meet the rest of the group so stay tuned!!

(thanks for the inspiration @understandably-odd!!!)

[my-darling-boy]

what about California suits you poorly?

A LOT and I’m so stressed I’m just going to vent about it, I’m sorry I need to let this out:

1. Weather is fucking awful in so many counties, especially where I live. It gets to 110-120F in the summer for 2 months, half the year it’s 90+. We get rain/grey skies MAYBE in total for 2 weeks out of the entire year. I’ve suffered for years from reversed seasonal depression (where you get so much sun you get depressed) which means my mental health is only at it’s best in the cold or with grey skies and gloomy weather, can’t take pills for it because of the side effects. I also have a skin condition that flares up in the heat which means I can’t go outside, at the worst part of the year, for anymore that 30 seconds without stinging horrible pain over my whole body, can’t get the injection to take care of it cos that’s just one more injection I’d have to worry about

2. We’re on constant wildfire watch about half the year, sometimes more. We’ve been at risk of evacuating 3 times but thankfully haven’t had to ever evacuate. However, my grandparents have had to twice and I have family that lost their houses in the Tubbs Fire which also destroyed my home town and so many people are still displaced from the fires. Even counties that don’t have to evacuate suffer from the purple-red zone for air quality due to smoke and I have high sensitivity to smoke which means I have a constant sore throat for all of fire season which is like 7 months out of the year and I would prefer not to look out my window and see a charcoal sky or a burning Star Wars Tattooine red sunset so often that it becomes normal.

3. I dunno what ads are shown in other states about California, but unless you are a millionaire, but I’ve found it’s near impossible to live here without at least two roommates all working a 40 hour week. Everyone my age has roommates or a partner mainly cos it’s so difficult to live on your own. It is in the top 3 most expensive states in the country. Low income housing 2 minutes away from me is priced at $600,000-$700,000 and the homes just next to those in gated communities are $1,000,000+. “”“Affordable””one bedroom flats just near me are $2,500-$3000 a month. And I don’t even live in a major city. If I moved out now, I would be classified as living in poverty with what money I have. For a look at how bad it’s gotten, my dad’s childhood home in the 70s was once $100,000 and it just sold last year for over $1,500,000.

4. There are no outlets for my career or job wants. At all. My main interest/knowledge is in Western Europe around that 1880-1920 period and mainly around WWI, and I reenact a British soldier. I love that history, theatre, art.... but on the off chance I had $60,000 a semester to go to the universities here I wanted to get a degree after transferring from a junior college, I have nowhere to apply that here. There are practically zero WWI events for me to reenact here, minus Newville and a couple others and there is no target audience for all my WWI writing and art because barely anyone gives a damn about WWI here (the Joke I’d always hear in school was “WWI? What even was that?” and we would learn about it for MAYBE two weeks out of 12 years of schooling). There aren’t museums I’d want to work at here, there aren’t shops I’d love to work for, there aren’t historical places I feel attached to to work there. I cannot tell you how fucking ECSTATIC I was to see actual WWI items in museums in England because I’d never seen anything like it here!! Like??? I could’ve fucking cried because I was so happy to be in a place where my interests had meaning to people?? Like last time I was there, literally a man in an elevator got into a Deep conversation with us about how sad WWI was and how it’s still emotional for people which was WILD because here I’m always told to “be smart and get interested in something that actually matters”. Like I’m sorry but it is SO draining to be so passionate about something it feels like no one around you ever cares about

5. The Style I specifically have is SO unnecessarily pricey to have here. California never had an Edwardian Period the way they did in the countries I studied, which means that there are, surprise, pretty much zero places to buy clothing/items from that period and if you do happen to find them, they’re outrageously expensive and the cuts of the garments aren’t even the ones I’m looking for, for instance, because America had slightly different fashion. No one here sells the clothing I dream of having, I have to order a majority of my stuff from England meaning it costs A LOT and I pay like $80+ in shipping for some things. My reenactment gear is so expensive to have shipped here as well!! I’m also so ://// cos I see all my friends from Europe just going out and causally finding items I’d love to have at decent prices cos they’re just staple antique shop items there which would be classified as rarities here. Like...... to know I could just walk into a physical shop somewhere and pay £15 for a collar or something that would’ve cost me $45 to have shipped here is just AAAAAHHHH??? Like the only reason why my dream life Brand isn’t as developed as I would like is because that Brand just doesn’t exist anywhere here and it’s so disappointing

6. Additionally, I plan on going to Europe when it’s much safer to travel anyway throughout my life just to visit all these places I want to, if I don’t end up living there somewhere, but flights from California to these places are so expensive because I’m always traveling so far and my flight is always 11-12 hours straight which would be fine if it wasn’t in cramped quarters filled with strangers

7. Ultimately, I just feel so alone and empty here. I look out around me and see an American capitalist wasteland, Hollywood drama in my backyard, stark blue skies with a blazing unforgiving sun, no places I Vibe with, no place I feel interested to live, no place I feel interested to work at, and nothing to be happy about. My parents are planning to move after my dad retires, my grandparents on both sides are getting quite older now, and my family on both sides I’m not all that close with, I used to see a lot and now I see maybe once every 1-2 years. I’m not a little kid anymore and it’s just time for me to leave and everything just feels so wrong about living here in ways I don’t even have words for

8. Adding: the job situation here has been so bad for a long time and because of that, I’ve reached a point where I’m selling my car to have the money I need to move out! I’m either going to have to find a place to live where I can walk or take the metro or something because I don’t have cash left over to by another car once I sell the one I have so RIP

[ladyofthestarlight]

Kent for the headcanons thing!

What he smells like: His clothes smell like cinnamon because of the cleaning product Jodi uses to wash the clothes of her family. He spends a lot of time outside his house just staring at plants and thinking so when he returns he has a strong scent of dry leaves and flowers.

How he sleeps: He barely sleeps, when he manages to do so it's only a matter of time he wakes up screaming and sweating from a nightmare. I would say from 12 PM to 5 AM on the good days. He faces the door while he sleeps to feel safe and rests his head on his hand.

What music they enjoy: Soft music, he also likes county music but it's his guilty pleasure. Lana del rey, Sleeping at last and The Neighborhood

How much time he spends getting ready every morning: He always showers at morning. Every, Single, Day. Then he puts on his clothes, stuffs something into his mouth for breakfast and leaves.

Their favorite thing to collect: He doesn't collect things as when he was younger, but he encourages Vincent to collect river stones.

Left or right handed: Ambidextrous, he had to learn how to use both of his hands at war because someone broke his right arm.

Religion (if any): I recall seeing him go to Yoba's temple.

Favorite sport: He likes seeing other people play gridball.

Favorite thing to do when traveling: When he traveled for the first time, he went to all the natural parks and then proceed to go hiking with his friends. To the day it's his most important activity when visiting a place. Everyone hated it because he would proceed to disappear until night.

Favorite kind of weather: On his dialogues he says he enjoys winter because of it's calmness. I suppose he also likes windy and cloudy days where you can't hear the young folk chatting outside your window.

A weird/ obscure fear they have: Once Sam fell from his skateboard near the house, he hit his head and fell unconscious. Kent almost goes crazy because his head was bruised and a line of blood fell from his brow. Since then he's super careful with him and his family in general. The fact that even on a place far from the war he can loose someone terrifies him and he has nightmares about it. Also it's insecure about the safety on Pelican Town in general. Has this feeling that makes him wonder when Gotoro is going to bomb the valley, if they are going to invade them.

The carnival/arcade game they always win: When he chooses to participate on the spooky labyrinth of the valley he will always find the hidden door before Sam or the farmer can and win.

That's all, thank you for the ask! Especially a Kent ask 🥺💖

[doctorslippery]

1d50 Fantasy Rumors

In a bathhouse to the far south, there is a well that grants wishes to those who please the guardian Naiad.

The Lord of a nearby country has set an enormous bounty on the head of a wicked bandit chief. However the old folk whisper the bandit is actually the true King, having been spirited away in the night when he was but a small boy.

The dwarves of the Jarring Peaks only surface mine and refuse to go underground. Something terrible drove them from the deeper mines generations ago, and still rests there today.

A foreign dignitary repeatedly insulted the Governor, however this is because by custom speaking praise of someone invites upon them ill luck. An international incident is looming.

In the Hinterlands, defeating someone in a fair duel entitles you to their lands or their lives. The duels, however, have incredibly complex rules that are nearly impenetrable to outsiders.

In the eastern seaport, the bay is supposedly teaming with mermaids. Dangling your toes off the docks is a sure way to get their attention, for better or worse.

There exists a flower that blooms once a century in the depths of the Sparkleberry Swamp that can cure any illness, no matter how dreadful. A tribe of lizard folk have been protecting the site for countless generations.

The mausoleum in the center of the city’s graveyard refuses to remain sealed, the bricks always burst outward in the night. Nothing, however, has been seen going in or out of it.

The old hag who sells flowers in the market place is in fact a powerful witch, waiting for a prophecy to fulfill itself.

The old orphanage at the edge of town doesn’t house real children, but changelings who were discovered in the crib.

Gert the Butcher once got into regular rows with his brother Bert. Bert vanished a few weeks ago and Gert had a sale on delicious sausages.

During a New Moon, the tides dip low revealing an isthmus connecting to Finnegan’s Atoll. The very best pearls can be found in reefs, it is a race to find them first.

Hjalmar Bjornson defeated the evil conjuror Illhugi and took residence in his tower. Recently, however, dark things have been coming from the tower again.

Cattle has been disappearing recently from local fields, a crime that the thieves’ guild refuses to claim. The town fool claims they are being abducted by invisible creatures for their heinous rituals.

The baron’s daughter is set to marry the heir of a neighboring fiefdom. Her maidservant, however, claims she plans to elope with the captain of the Guard, Providence Blanchard.

The Gleaming Desert gets so hot during the summer months that whole areas melt into glass. A local alchemist thinks if conditions are right a huge and perfect lens could be created.

The White Forest is so called for the strange, color draining sickness that affects the animals within. Farmer Gregor claims, however, to have seen a giant black stag with glowing rainbow antlers.

A pair of river traders have brought a new, powerful and addictive medicine which they initially gave away for free. However prices have risen and addicts have taken to increasingly aggressive acts of robbery to fuel their addictions.

Gloria Haversham is a tinker who travels the countryside in her one donkey cart. People say she can fix absolutely anything, but her prices are never in mere coins.

Word on the street is that the fireworks prepared for the New Years celebration have been tampered with and their glowing bursts will in fact place a hex on the city.

A new tattoo artist from the far west has set up shop, creating beautiful works of art on their patron’s skin. They’re almost too lifelike.

Parents always told their children that the Weeping Man would take away naughty children on full moons, but recently children have actually started going missing and the bogeyman has turned into hysteria.

The Wizard-Archeologist Philipa Saint-John claims there is a lost ziggurat buried in the permafrost of the Karngorm Tundra, she just needs the funding and manpower to uncover it.

Jenny Greenteeth has haunted the swamp since time out of mind and the locals now live in a tenuous peace with her. However a rich merchant has brought in foreign workers to fill the swamp and build a road.

The Count’s fortune was read in tea leaves last month. He was so horrified by the prophecy that he banned all fortune tellers and all tea from the county.

A giant hand made of an unknown metal was uncovered by flash floods in the hills.

Migratory patterns have shifted, taking game away from the barony. Something is happening up north that is scaring all the animals away.

The cats hold a monthly sabbath where they make reports to their true master.

The border marauders have been getting more bold after their leader uncovered a trove of strange weapons that fire burning light.

Stay away from the harbor on misty nights, that’s when the ghost ship and her dread captain looks for new crew to take aboard.

13 O’Clock, the Witching Hour, only strikes for those who know to listen for it.

The King in Chains, an especially rowdy tavern, has a terrible rat problem, but for some reason the landlord refuses to do anything about it. He also despises cats.

The Patron Saint of Thieves famously stole themselves right out of the hangman’s noose as they dropped. It is said the holder of that noose cannot be barred by any locked door.

A truly massive thunderhead has been passing back and forth across the plains for weeks without a drop of rain. The locals have taken to calling it the Thunder Anvil.

The city on the other side of the mountain throws a truly spectacular street celebration each year. Its participants, despite the fireworks, feasts, and music are all masked and silent.

A powerful noble was cursed in her youth to never be able to eat the same meal twice. She is elderly now and is desperate for truly exotic ingredients for her increasingly bizarre diet.

The old barrows have always been a haunt of fairies and their mischief was mostly benign. A necromancer recently desecrated those ancient tombs and the fairies have gone berserk.

A travelling circus filled with exotic animals of all kinda passed through last year, however a fire at the big top consumed it. Strange trumpeting and growling are still heard from the village green.

Theodore Goldfinch, the secretary of the magistrate, ran screaming out of the courthouse last week claiming he uncovered a snakeman conspiracy.

“The Slithery-Dee came out the sea, he ate all the others but he didn’t eat me,” claimed the only survivor of a fishing village, found covered in blood and holding a notched whaling hook.

There is a deaf musician who wanders the south who knows a tune terribly sad that those that hear it die of a broken heart. They say the musician is in fact a master assassin.

Giant petroglyphs cut across the shrublands where the sheep graze. The wizards claim that the petroglyphs have actually been walking across the land at geologic speed.

Everyone ties a ribbon with wishes on it to the Angel Oak, hoping they’d come true. Sometimes, they actually do!

Keep a ring of iron in your left pocket when you travel the road at night, otherwise the Wyld Hunt will turn you to a beast and hunt you till morning.

Anyone who dies without fulfilling a contract is damned to rise against to complete it. It is important to burn or transfer contracts to avoid terrible revenants.

After a long bender that the PC barely remembers, their wanted poster has been pasted across the land for the kidnapping of a rich silk merchant’s son.

A bat covered in gold dust was found in the church’s belfry, setting off a rush searching all the local caves for a rich vein.

A strange light was seen pouring out of the canyon in the night and no one who has gone to investigate has returned.

Sir Zoray and his band of knights were tasked by the High Priestess to seek a holy artifact to cure a terrible wasting illness. They were last spotted spending their gold the the most expensive brothel in an eastern city.

A wingless wyrm was spotted swimming through the Frothy Run River and coins of foreign make were later found on the pebbly shore.