#trip to the yarn store. oh just another trip to the yarn store. ok one more trip to the yarn store. yarn store again.

[milfsisyphus]

once you let yarn into your house it’s over. it’s like sand there will just always be more. “oh i’ll just make something with all the scraps” - congratulations you just entered the time loop idiot.

[avintagekiss24]

Piper’s Creek [4/10]

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2571

Warnings: language

Rating: M - language

Link: AO3

Summary: Sam Wilson is a simple man. He likes to do simple things, like going fishing on a warm summer day. Little does Sam know, this fishing trip will not only lead him to his soulmate, but into a world of ancient folklore.

Square Filled: U4 - knitting for @buckybarnesbingo​

B2 - Hugs for @stuckybingo2019

A/N: Once again, art is by the lovely @waltermittie. Let’s get acquainted with Steve, shall we?

“Ouch,” Bucky hisses, snapping his hand back from his knitting needles, “Shit!”

He sighs loudly, pushing a hot, irritated breath out of his nose. He sucks the tiny prick of blood from his finger before furrowing his brow and returning his attention back to Steve’s new, but completely unwanted sweater. His fingers start moving from memory, pushing and pulling the dark blue yarn around his needles. The radio plays softly in the background, some stupid country song, causing Bucky to huff loudly again. 

He stops momentarily, lifting his head and turning it slightly toward the front door of their hidden cottage. He sniffs the air quickly, registering the smell that shifted the atmosphere so suddenly and then returns his gaze back to his hands. He knits quickly, the pace of his fingers matching his racing thoughts as he starts to zone out once more. It’s been weeks since he’s seen Sam. He’s worried about him. He misses him. You scared him off, you prick. You gotta go slow! How many times do I have to tell myself this.

Heavy footsteps climb the wooden stairs outside but Bucky doesn’t budge. He jams his needle through the yarn and into his finger again, letting out a sharp, loud, “Fuck!” Steve pushes through the doors seconds later, one arm full with chopped wood, the other with grocery bags, “Wipe your feet,” Bucky says gruffly, not turning around to face him.

Steve rolls his eyes as he shuts the door and wipes his feet enthusiastically on the rug in front of the door, “Hello to you too, darling.”

Bucky grunts in return as Steve crosses behind him to place the bags on the kitchen table, He glances over his shoulder at the brooding Bucky, before moving toward the fireplace the sit the freshly chopped wood in its place, “You’re knitting again?”

“Is it that obvious?” Bucky returns flatly. 

Steve chuckles as he moves back into the kitchen and starts unpacking the groceries, “I have enough sweaters.”

“Well, you’ll have one more now, won’t you?”

Steve cuts his eyes toward his short tempered partner, “Have you eaten today?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Couldn’t catch anything.”

“Did you try?” Steve asks softly, keeping his eyes on the back of Bucky’s head. When he doesn’t answer, Steve takes a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs before he expels it, “I bought some salmon and trout from the store. Want me to make you something?”

Bucky shrugs, shaking his head lightly as he grabs his grey yarn and starts to weave it in, “I’m not that hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten in days,” Steve says softly, cocking his head to the side as his shoulders drop, “You gotta eat something, babe.”

It grows silent between the two again as Bucky actively ignores him. Steve taps his fingers on his hips, wracking his brain for some way to at least try and help Bucky relax. Bucky hisses again seconds later and slams his fist on the table angrily as he’s drawn another spot of blood on his finger. 

Steve moves toward him, leaning over his shoulder and grabbing the needles from his hands, “Take a break, seriously.”

“No, I need to finish this stupid fucking-” He mumbles, reaching for the needles, “Steve, come on,” Bucky pleads as he stands, swiping toward Steve’s hand as he holds the needles up over his head. 

He links eyes with Steve as he clenches his jaw. Steve’s eyes are soft, full of concern and worry, which pisses Bucky off even more. He sighs again, shifting his eyes back toward the front door, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m worried about you,” Steve starts, dropping his hand to his side, “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

Bucky chews on the inside of his cheek as he keeps his eyes on the door. He doesn’t like being like this either. He doesn’t like making Steve worry even more than he already does, but he knows that he’s finally found him. He’s finally found his Sam and he wants him back. Steve drops the needles to the floor and inches toward the slightly shorter Bucky, wrapping his arms around his torso. 

Bucky nuzzles his head into Steve’s chest, closing his eyes as he wraps his arms around Steve’s waist. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting Steve’s natural scent fill his nostrils, “I’m sorry,” he states simply, squeezing Steve a little harder, “I’ve been awful.”

Steve chuckles lightly, kissing the top of Bucky’s head, “Awful is an understatement.”

Bucky laughs, “I’m a jerk, I know.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re upset.”

Bucky drags his hands up to Steve’s shoulder blades, hooking his fingers over his shoulders. He continues to chew on the inside of his cheek as he stares at the wall behind them, “I’m just worried about him,” he says after a moment. Steve leans back slightly, letting his eyes linger on the side of the Bucky’s face, “I just hope he comes back.”

“He will.” Steve asserts, “If it’s him, he will.”

“It is him. I feel it this time.” Bucky answers as he pulls back, “It’s him.”

Steve nods, smiling softly, “I believe you. You just gotta give him time, baby. This isn’t easy to deal with, especially nowadays.” Steve shrugs, resting his chin on the top of Bucky’s head.

Bucky laughs again before nuzzles his face back into Steve’s chest, “So you’re saying it was easier for you because it was 1942?”

“Uh, yeah. An American Werewolf in London hadn’t come out yet.”

Bucky slaps his arm jokingly, “Not funny, asshole.”

“That movie is terrifying, seriously.”

“Stop,” Bucky whines, stomping his feet like a child on the floor, drawing another laugh from Steve, “Stop making fun of me!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Steve laughs, tightening his hug, “I’m serious though. This is rough territory. Just give him some time and some space, he’ll come around. I did.”

Bucky scoffs a little, a smirk playing on his lips, “It didn’t take you this long.”

“Eh, what can I say? I’m a sucker for blue eyes and naked men bathing in lakes.”

Bucky chuckles lightly, exhaling as he smiles. It grows silent between the two of them again as they hold each other in the middle of their small, warm cottage. Steve’s right, just relax. 

“I think you’ll like him.” Bucky says after a moment, dropping his hand to Steve’s wrist to rub his thumb over his imprinted name.

Steve smiles gently, “I already do. Seems like a smart guy to stay away from the two of us.” He smiles widely as Bucky starts to mumble and kisses his forehead, “How about some dinner, kid?”

“Trout sounds good.” Bucky relents.

“Cooked or raw?”

“Psssh,” Bucky scoffs, pulling himself from Steve and bending to grab his knitting needles again, “Cooked. What do I look like, an animal?”

-----

Sam holds his head in his hands as Wanda and Natasha move around him. Night has fallen fully, the sky dark, the stars twinkling, the crescent moon high. Natasha sets a glass of water in front of him, nudging him softly, before she sets the large salad bowl in the middle of the table, “Drink. It’ll help with the headache.”

She’s back in the kitchen before she can catch Sam’s heavy eye roll. He knows better though, he’s seen her angry. He takes a sip, and then another as Wanda leans over him, placing a plate full of steak, red potatoes, and asparagus in front of him. She places Natasha’s plate down and then takes her seat to Sam’s right, glancing back toward Natasha with impatient eyes. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” says Natasha, grabbing the wine and jogging back toward to table to plop to Sam’s left. 

After a quick blessing, they spend the first few minutes of their meal eating in silence. Sam eats his steak slowly, his eyes cast out of the windows in front of him and out onto the street. Natasha spears a potato and looks at Wanda, who chews on a piece of asparagus. They have a silent conversation with their eyes,  glancing over at Sam periodically. Wanda tilts her head towards him, but Natasha quickly shakes her head, knowing he’s had a long enough day as it is. 

Sam slides his eyes between the women as they quickly drop their eyes back to their plates. He leans back in his chair, releasing a deep sigh before lifting his glass to his lips, “I’m right here, guys.”

Natasha rolls her eyes as Wanda purses her lips, linking her fingers together and placing her chin on them, “I don’t like keeping secrets.”

“I told you earlier, it’s not a secret. I just think he’s heard enough for today, that’s all,” Natasha says with wide eyes, taking a sip of her red wine. 

“Then why did you bring him here, huh? To tell him half truths?”

Natasha drops her hands to the table, tilting her head as runs her tongue over her teeth, “Oh, now you wanna worry about half truths? What about earlier, huh? There may be evidence.”

“Then let me tell him now.”

“Mommy,” Sam says, turning toward Natasha and then toward Wanda, “Mommy, please don’t fight.”

“Shut it, Sam,” Natasha bites back, angrily taking a bite of her steak.

Sam laughs, leaning his head against the back of his chair and staring up at the ceiling, “Don’t fight, come on.” He rolls his head toward Natasha, a lazy smile on his lips, “I can handle it.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, grabbing her glass of wine again before falling into the back of her chair. She waves her hand toward Wanda, giving her the go ahead and rubs her glass against her lips, “Ok, so,” Wanda starts, not missing a beat, “You remember how I said Bucky has two soulmates?”

Sam nods slowly, turning his glass in slow circles on the table, “I do.”

“I think he’s found him already.” She jumps from her seat and hurries into the kitchen, grabbing another stack of loose papers and plopping back into her chair. She slides a printed picture of a young, small, blonde man. He has dog tags around his neck, his face sunken in, his arms skinny and frail, “This is Steven Grant Rogers, circa 1940.”

“He looks like he’s twelve,” Sam remarks, as he glances back toward Wanda.

“He was sickly. Chronic colds, high blood pressure, had scarlet and rheumatic fever when he was a child,” she waves her hands. “He was a mess, but, here is a picture taken a few weeks ago that popped up on a message board,” She slides a much newer, color picture toward him. 

He leans up and so does Natasha, staring at the man holding brown grocery bags in his hands. It’s a side profile, his blonde hair is long and slicked back, a thick beard covering his face. Sam shrugs as he studies the picture, “I don’t get it. Looks like every other yuppie in downtown Seattle.”

She slides the first picture toward him again, moving them side by side, “See it now?”

Natasha stands and moves behind Sam, leaning over his shoulder as they both examine the pictures before. Sam squints his eyes as the wheels in his brain turn. He snaps his head up toward Wanda, his mouth falling open as Natasha covers her mouth with her hand, “That’s-” 

Wanda nods slowly, “A few people on the message board think that this is Steven Rogers. I looked for more info while you were asleep but there is nothing on him, nothing recent anyway. No driver’s license, no vehicle registrations-”

“No bank accounts.” Natasha finishes for her, “Unless, he’s using a fake name, which, he’d be stupid not to for being a hundred year old guy whose soulmate is a werewolf.”

“After 1942, all traces of Steven Rogers disappears.” Wanda shuffles through some of her papers, tucking her hair behind her ear, “I can’t confirm it one hundred percent, but here’s a mugshot from the early two thousands of someone by the name of Andrew Tavers.” She says, sliding the picture toward them, “The similarities are striking between the three pictures, to say the least.”

Sam slides his eyes between the three pictures before pulling the mugshot of the man a little closer. His blonde hair is short, the beard gone. His lips are pressed into a hard line as he stares back at Sam with an icy glare. Sam tilts his head, sweeping his eyes toward the skinny dude and the lumberjack on either side of the mugshot. The eyes are the exact same, the nose… 

“This Andrew was arrested in a rural Texas town. He got into a fight with some redneck in a bar who claimed, and get this, that he had killed a large wolf while out hunting earlier that afternoon. The police report says that Andrew,” she emphasizes his name with air quotes, “Busted into the bar a few hours later and just started beating the shit out of this guy. Nobody knew him or had even seen him before.” 

Sam blinks as he remembers skimming his fingers along the large, jagged scar on Bucky’s side. Sam’s favorite scar. “What happened after that?” He asks breathlessly. 

“He bailed himself out of jail the next morning and was never seen again. The cops went out to the woods that following day to try and find the carcass of the wolf but it was gone too.”

Sam falls back into his chair, resting his hand on the table, “This is so… crazy.”

“I know, but it’s kind of exciting too,” Wanda smiles, “I mean, my god! Werewolves, immortal men, who are very easy on the eye, if I might add.” She giggles, pointing to the newest picture of Steve, “Maybe once you all get to know each other, you can mention that Nat and I are looking for a sperm donor.”

“Wanda Maximoff-Romanoff!” Natasha scolds, slapping at her shoulder.

“I’m kidding! But not really,” she whispers, wiggling her eyebrows toward Sam, “Seriously, this has to be Steve Rogers, which means that Bucky imprinted on him. He doesn’t look a day over thirty.”

“Not to mention the two hundred pounds of muscle he packed on,” Natasha says. “Sheesh.”

“See, changin’ your mind, huh?” Wanda asks as she pokes her wife’s side playfully. 

Natasha rolls her eyes with a smile on her face before placing her hand on Sam’s shoulder, “Are you okay, Sam? We shouldn’t be laughing, this is serious.”

“No, no, it’s,” He shakes his head and shrugs, letting out a soft chuckle himself, “Thank you, both of you, seriously. If you guys were taking this as seriously as I am, I would have jumped off of the nearest bridge.”

“So,” Wanda asks, grabbing Sam’s wrist with her hands and giving him a soft smile, “What are you going to do?”

Sam smiles back at her before dropping his eyes down the table. He’s not going to lie to himself. He’s terrified. But, something is pulling him back toward that Pipers Creek. Deep in the woods, beyond the trees and grass, there’s a heartbeat that just won’t leave him alone. He hears it every night and every morning. He smells him. He craves his touch, Bucky’s lips on his skin. His soulmate is out there, he just has to find the courage to go to him. 

[brujeria-histeria]

The Surprise

hacy fic for @theballetslippertheblackhoodie prompt: Harry finds out he’s going to be a father ......again. 

Harry has had many bad days but this had to be one of the worst, maybe the the worst day of his second life. It had actually started last night though and the usually upbeat whitelighter didn’t let last night’s fumble try to ruin his day today, but oh no fate insisted his day be ruined. 

First, last night his date with his Girlfriend, Macy was cancelled. She was running late from a science conference on the future of bioengineering and space and had grabbed something to eat at the conference center’s cafe. Then when she finally got home they at least tried to fit in some intimacy and Macy was too tired, again, to keep going, he let her fall asleep on his chest then slid out of bed and went to the bathroom for a cold shower. 

Macy hadn’t been wanting to get intimate with him, sexually, for the past two weeks except once for one round of love making. When he gently asked her if everything was ok and if had done anything wrong she denied it and kissed him and told him how sweet he was. He was beginning to question if she wasn’t that into him anymore, if she only got with him on a whim and a year and 3 months into their relationship maybe her affection for him sizzled out. He shook his head under the cold water and tried not to let those thoughts intrude again. He’d do anything for Macy to be happy, but it hurt him to think it might mean to let her go if it would make her happy again. 

Then today he had gone to work as usual, and was checking his twitter and was of course doing numbers with the academia side of twitter but spied a suspicious activity of tweets in his mentions. A faceless twitter troll had taken to attacking his person, calling him and women in general all sorts of unsavory names and slurs, while he blocked and reported the troll instead of engaging them, it made his blood boil when the troll especially said very tasteless and racist things about his Macy, when he tweeted an article done on her recently. You could insult him, but never insult women and never ever insult the woman he loves. He stormed to his office and set down his things with his research text making a slam. If his day couldn’t get any worse in walked in Professor Crollins, the head of the political science department to bother him. She was an older woman, in comparison to his physical 37 and her actual age of 53, and she apparently was very into Harry’s “vibe” as Maggie put it after she busted out laughing when he told her of the predicament. The situation of Crollin’s infatuation had began a few weeks ago when a benefactor and tenured professor of the school wanted both department heads to work together to form a joint class for next semester’s class options. 

“Hello, Professor Greenwood. I came by to drop off another rubric for a possible project for next semester class. I can’t wait to teach it with you, I’m sure it’ll be an enriching experience for everyone involved.” she smiled. 

Harry internally shuddered, it wasn’t well known outside his charges that he was in a committed relationship with the resident head of the science lab, Dr. Macy Vaughn. And even though it wasn’t public he had told Prof Crollins that he was not available to go out for drinks, ever, the last time she asked him to grab a drink with her. 

“Actually Prof. Crollins I’m not going to be teaching that class, my TA Melanie Vera will be taking it. I offered her the position yesterday and the benefactor interviewed her.” He stated. Prof. Collins straightened and fixed him with a look. 

“What is it with you and those Vera Girls, and the other one that’s their sister. You’re around them an awful lot, in fact don’t you live with them? I thought you had your own place?” she accused. 

“Um, we’re family, of sorts.” he fidgeted. He tried to tone down his public appearances with the girls he could excuse Mel because of her work in the women’s studies department, but not with poor Maggie who got some weird looks when he escorted her around arm in arm to discuss demon and witch things. They started using the excuse that he was their “Uncle” of sorts from their dad’s side, except Macy who just would call him a close friend. 

“Hmph, well if that’s how you want it.” she walked off in a huff, and Harry exhaled, now he was annoyed and upset by a twitter troll and a woman who couldn’t understand the word no. 

After that his day was just full of little stupid things that just added on to his annoyance. His favorite tie got ruined when someone tripped into him with their Starbucks drink and even though he orbed home to change shirts the tie was completely stained. He got into a heated discussion with one of his headstrong students who he hated to refer to them as, but it was true, a pain in his arse. The student even annoyed Mel with how bold and one track minded they were. His lunch went poorly too as he couldn’t even leave his office because he was swamped with papers, his tea supply had ran out, which he cursed himself for not realizing it, and he’d forgotten his lunch. He had to eat some rubbish tasting crisp from the vending machine. Macy had barely texted him back all day. Now he was feeling really shitty....

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

Macy was thinking of a way to tell Harry the big news, she was pregnant, and 6 weeks along. She had tested herself 2 or so weeks ago, and a test she did at the lab confirmed she was pregnant, with a baby, by Harry. She had been nervous for the past couple of weeks since finding out, unsure of how to tell Harry, but she decided to do it tonight in a casual way because she could feel Harry getting more upset with himself as the days passed, knowing Harry he probably was beating himself up about whatever he thought he did wrong, which he did nothing wrong. 

The night their baby to be was conceived was a night Macy remembered and she knew exactly what day it was. Mother’s Day, she was sad as hell that day along with her sisters and after they all celebrated it together, in honor of Marisol(and Mama Roz) she sat in her room crying because while she braved it, it was a reminder that she didn’t really know her mother as well as her sisters. She released the pain that caused her to lose her mind to the Source 2 years ago but she still felt a human pain inside. Harry had found her and she had him take her surface pain away by replacing it with pleasure and comforted her with kisses and passion. 

She actually had left work early and made her way out on a task of shopping at multiple stores. She picked up soft wool yarn & a guide on how to knit for beginners, color swatches, some premium tea(for Harry), a toddler’s sectioned plate(it was so cute she couldn’t resist snagging the last one), and a prenatal yoga book. She of course knew it was too early to be buying some things, she had hear fears about her own baby’s health but she decided to focus on positive things. Like her adding another member to the Vera-Vaughn-Greenwood family. She was so engrossed in shopping she didn’t noticed Harry had texted her a few times. When she made it back home, she texted Harry that she was off work a little early and she’d be at home if he wanted to see her. He texted back ‘Yes, Please.’

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

Harry dragged himself to his feet when he was finally done with a pile of papers, and orbed himself to the Vera Manor. 

“Macy?” he called out. 

“I’m in the living room Harry, could you make some tea? I bought some premium stuff from that high end food shoppe today.” she called back. 

“Sure, my love.” he sighed, he really wanted some tea to be honest. Harry walked to the kitchen and found a plate with children’s characters on it, from that Sesame Street show, he thought maybe at first it was a childhood plate of one of the girls, but it looked brand new, it had dividers in it, maybe they wanted it for meal prepping? 

“Macy, why is there a plate in here with elmo on it, is this one of Maggie’s new meal prep things?” he asked confused. 

“Its toddler’s plate silly, for toddlers to eat out of.” she replied. 

Hm, whatever, he learned to stop questioning the girls quirky antics further long ago. He inhaled the fresh tea and it almost made his rubbish day disappear. Once he got into the living room to cuddle it would be better. He made his tea tray up, and grabbed some small bite sized cookies he found, pink and blue sugar cookies. 

“Macy, I’ve been wanting to see you all day darling.” He gazed at her with love. “Erm, what are you doing?” 

“Hm?” she looked up. Macy was currently sitting on the couch surrounded by a big pile of jumbo sized yellow and white wool yarn. “Oh I’m going to learn how to knit, and make a small blanket.” she answered. “Maybe some little shoes or a scarf afterwards.” 

“Macy, a knitted pair of shoes aren’t practical unless your a baby, which those are more like socks. Socks are more practical.” 

“I also got some color swatches, I wonder which one is a little more gender neutral, maybe this pastel mint green or pastel yellow?” she asked. 

“Either one seems fine, dear.” he said preparing their tea.”What for?”

She hummed with a grin, and he sat down next to her and shot back up to see the rectangular object he just sat on. “What is this?” 

“Oh I picked up a new book for exercise.”

“Oh” he responded, pouring a cup of tea for her before reading the title. 

“Prenatal Yoga for First Time Mothers.” he read aloud. “I’ve heard it’s actually quite good for women in pregnancy to take up specialized Yoga, in fact I was discussing the other day-” Harry paused for a minute, blinked, and turned his head slowly to Macy who was stirring some sugar in her tea. “Macy dear.... why did you buy a book of yoga for pregnant women?” 

Macy sipped her tea, and looked at him with mischief in her eyes.

The fatigue of not wanting sex, the toddler’s plate, the yarn and knitting baby shoes, the book, the color swatches in colors suitable for a baby... bloody hell the pink and blue cookies... she’d even had been touching her belly a lot lately.... was Macy? Could she be?

“Are you?” his eyes began to gleam with tears threatening to burst in pure joy. 

“You’re going to be a Father, again, Harry Greenwood. I’m 6 weeks pregnant!” she said setting down her tea cup, to clasp his hands. 

“You are pregnant... you’re pregnant. I’m going to be a Father...” he stood up and scooped Macy up twirling her around, away from the yarn as to not trip. “I’M GOING TO BE A FATHER! OH, Macy, my love, I love you.” He kissed her all over her face. She laughed, and some tears of joy streamed down her face as well. They laughed and kissed for what seemed like ages.

“You wanna go celebrate?” she nuzzled her nose to his and nodded upstairs. He responded by kissing her. 

Perhaps this was the happiest he’s been in a long time. This was one of the best days of his life.

[rose-of-pollux]

Inktober for Writers, Day 4

Prompt: Freeze Fandom: Perfect Strangers Title: Waiting for the Morning Light Summary: [Based off of episode 3x7].  In which Larry and company find themselves lost in a foggy night--and then the weird stuff starts happening...

Crossposted to AO3 and FFN.

Notes: This vignette was inspired episode 3x7, “The Horn Blows at Midnight,” which is my favorite episode of the entire series.  I loved the otherworldly theme of it, and I especially loved the “We ride together, we die together” mentality that Balki, Jennifer, and Mary Anne had when it came to protecting Larry in the face of his prophesized encounter with Death.  I was a bit puzzled, though, as to why, after the rest of the prophecy came true, Death didn’t actually show up (aside from the fact that this is a sitcom that isn’t meant to get that serious).  And then the plot bunny for this happened.  This vignette takes place a year after the events of that episode.

“It’s this way.”

“No, I’m sure it’s this way.”

“Cousin, we already went that way.”

“How can you even tell in all this fog!?”

“Guys, please…”  Jennifer sighed, running a hand through her hair.  “We’ve been walking in the fog for an hour.  I’m freezing, and I just want to find that car and go home.”

“Aw, Jen…”  Larry drew an arm around her.  “Let’s just keep going a little bit further; the car has got to be around here somewhere.”

“That may be, but how did we get so far from the parking lot—that’s all I want to know,” Mary Anne said, also shivering.

“Because the fog is so thick, you can cut it with a pea soup spoon,” Balki declared, drawing an arm around her, too.

Larry looked as though he was about to say something, but decided against it; anyway, with how thick this fog was tonight, the double mixed metaphor worked extremely well in describing it.

“The fog really did roll in pretty quickly…” he admitted.  “I can barely see you guys right beside me.  You know, if I believed in that kind of stuff I’d say there was something otherworldly about—”

Larry was cut off in midsentence by a yelp of alarm from Balki, who suddenly vanished right in front of their eyes.

“Balki!?” Larry and Jennifer exclaimed.

“Oh, God, he’s gone!” Mary Anne wailed.  “Vanished!  He—”

She paused as they heard a pained groan from the ground.

“…Or maybe he just tripped,” she finished, embarrassed.

“Well, that was quite a wipeout,” Larry said, flinching in sympathy as he knelt down to help his cousin up into a sitting position.  “Okay, Buddy, okay—up you get.”  Balki still looked dazed, and so Larry moved his finger back and forth in front of his face to make sure he could focus.

“What happened…?” Balki asked.

“You tripped and fell on your face,” Larry explained, still trying to get him to focus.  “How do you feel?”

“…Like I tripped and fell on my face,” Balki replied, plainly.  He blinked in confusion at Larry moving his finger back and forth and looked up.  “What are you pointing at?”

“…Nevermind,” Larry said, helping him to his feet.

“Are you alright?” Mary Anne asked.

“I think so…” Balki said.  He tried to take a step forward, but he let out a cry of pain; Larry immediately supported him, gently helping him back down into a sitting position.

“And that’s sprained,” Larry sighed, taking a look at Balki’s ankle.

“Sorry, Cousin…”

“Not your fault; one of us was bound to trip in this fog.”

“I can still walk,” Balki insisted.

“Bad idea; you need to stay off of that ankle and rest,” Mary Anne insisted.

“She’s right,” Larry agreed.  “You three rest here for a while; I’ll go on ahead and see if I can get any closer to the car.”

“Cousin, I don’t think you should go wandering in the fog; you’ll get lost,” Balki said.  “You should stay and rest with us.”

“It’s no problem; I’ll walk in a straight line that way,” Larry indicated. “If I don’t find anything in five minutes, I’ll turn right around and come back.”

“Also a bad idea,” Mary Anne insisted.  “Larry, in this fog, you can easily wander off from a straight line.”

“But we have to find the car!  Look at you—you’re all miserable and cold, and Balki is in no shape to walk…”  Larry sighed.  And it’s my fault for getting us lost—again.

“…Wait, I’ve got an idea,” Jennifer said, searching through her bag.  “Here…  I stopped off at the craft store this morning; you can use this.”

She handed him a ball of red yarn.

“Oh, Cousin, it’s just like Theseus and the Labyrinth!” Balki exclaimed.

“Well, let’s just hope I don’t run into any Minotaurs,” Larry intoned.  He leaned over and gave Jennifer a kiss. “Thanks, Jen.”

“Hurry back,” she replied, tightly grabbing onto the loose thread of the yarn ball.

Larry nodded and headed into the fog.

“There goes a brave man,” Balki said, proudly.  He winced as he tried to adjust his leg.  “Ow… What did I even trip over to make it hurt so much?”

Mary Anne fished in her bag for a small flashlight and aimed it around.

“Oh, just a small headstone,” she announced.

“Oh.”

The three of them paused for a moment before glancing at each other.

“A headstone!?” the exclaimed, in unison.

“How did we end up in a cemetery!?” Jennifer demanded.

“I don’t know—we weren’t parked anywhere near one!” Mary Anne.  “We would’ve had to walk for hours to get to the nearest cemetery!”

“Unless…” Balki said, looking around nervously.  “What Cousin Larry was saying about there being something otherworldly about this fog is, in fact, what happened.”

“I’m… I’m sure he wasn’t serious…” Jennifer stammered, her grip on her end of the yarn tightening.  “Maybe we really have been walking for hours, and we just didn’t realize it…”

“Uh… Jennifer…?” Mary Anne asked, staring at the red yarn.

The three of them stared as a casing of frost formed down the red yarn towards the end that Jennifer was holding.

“Larry…!”

She got to her feet and was about to follow the yarn as Balki also stood up, with Mary Anne’s support.

“Balki, your ankle—” she reminded him.

But Balki shook his head.

“I’ll hop on one foot if I have to, but we need to find Cousin Larry!”

The girls knew there was no stopping him; they supported him as they followed the yarn, helping him so that he didn’t have to put his weight on his sprained ankle.

They were soon calling for Larry, and after what seemed like and age and a half, they finally got a response.

“Balki?  Jen? Mary Anne?”

There was a collective sigh of relief, though they were slightly alarmed as they saw the same odd frost on the yarn having formed on Larry’s clothes and hair—though he seemed oblivious to it.

“Balki, your ankle!” he fretted.  “You’re supposed to stay off of it!  What are you even doing out here—all of you?  I told you I’d come back—I’m not even out of yarn yet!  …Oh, that’s weird…”  He finally noticed the frost on the yarn.  “Huh…”

“Larry, that frost is all over you, too,” Mary Anne said, staring wide-eyed.

“She’s right, Cousin; anymore frosting, and you’ll be a cake,” Balki stated.

The three of them began to brush the frost off of him; Larry sputtered in protest, but it was clear that they weren’t going to leave it.

“Oh, Larry, you’re even colder than I am,” Jennifer said, pulling him into a hug this time.

“I feel fine—really,” Larry replied, baffled.

“Cousin, I think we need to get out of this cemetery and get you to someplace warm,” Balki said.

“Balki really, I’m fine…”  Larry trailed off.  “Cemetery? We were nowhere near a cemetery. There is no way this is a cemetery.”

“Then what’s that?” Mary Anne asked, aiming the flashlight beam over Larry’s shoulder.

He turned around.

“…That’s a mausoleum,” he realized.  His eyes widened.  “Oh, my Lord…!  I was headed right for that thing—I didn’t even see it!”

Jennifer suddenly tightened her hug as she noticed something else.

“…The doors are open…”  She squinted in the dim light, trying to see what was carved above the doors.

Anything else she wanted to say was derailed by a sudden, fierce breeze that was blowing from behind them—as though trying to get them closer—and eventually into—the open mausoleum.  And Larry, out ahead, was being the most tossed around by the wind, with Jennifer being dragged along with him.

Larry soon found himself at the center of another group hug as Balki and Mary Anne joined Jennifer, but then the wind picked up even more.

“It’s no good!” Larry cried over the wind, as they were buffeted even closer to the looming structure.  “Save yourselves!”

“No way!” Mary Anne insisted.

“Not a chance!” Jennifer agreed.

“No, Cousin!  We are in this together!” Balki finished.

The wind increased intensity even further, taking their breath away; knowing that the others were holding on to him, Larry tried to brace himself against it. He didn’t understand what was happening—but he knew that he couldn’t let anything happen to the others.

And then, the wind suddenly stopped, sending them toppling over in a heap—Balki cursing in Myposian as he landed on his sprained ankle, but then looking around to check on the others.

“Is everyone alright?

“I’m ok…” Mary Anne insisted.

“Same here,” Jennifer asked.

“And me.  Just barely,” Larry groaned.  He sat up, staring ahead.  “…The mausoleum is gone.”

“What!?” Jennifer asked, also sitting up.  “But we all saw it!”

“Maybe we were all seeing things…” Larry said.  “That was a thick fog…”

“Cousin, I tripped over a gravestone, and you were turning into Frosty the Snowman, headed for that mausoleum by the time we found you,” Balki insisted.

“If you ask me, something wanted you in there, and got mad when we stopped you,” Mary Anne said, quietly.

Jennifer suddenly let out a shrill gasp.

“Jen…?” Larry asked, concerned.

“Larry, do you realize what tonight is!?”

“…Should I…?” he asked, momentarily wondering if he’d forgotten an important anniversary.

“Larry, it was exactly a year ago to the day Claire Hayden made her prophecy about your death!  And look!”  She held up her watch.  “Just after Midnight!  And… And now that I think about it… Just before the wind started blowing, I was trying to read what was carved on the mausoleum—the light was too dim, but…  I’m pretty sure it started with an ‘A.’”

Balki and Mary Anne both went pale.

“Wh… But…  How!?  I didn’t sit on a sheep or eat a golden ring tonight!” Larry protested.

“Well, you did that last year; all Mr. Death had to do this year was show up!” Balki said, drawing Larry into a hug again.  “He was probably waiting in that mausoleum for you!”

The girls also hugged him again now, and Larry sighed again in utter confusion.

“There’s so much I don’t understand…” he said, shaking his head.  “I don’t even fully understand what just happened here. But…  I do know that you three probably just saved my life.  Again.  So… thanks for that.”

His voice had cracked; he couldn’t help but feel a bit emotional.  It had never been easy for Larry to make friends, and now he had three best friends, one of them his girlfriend, who loved him enough to defy a prophecy and save him from the Reaper—and he would do the same in an instant for them.

They didn’t move or say anything for a while—even after the fog had lifted, revealing them to be right next to the parking lot and Larry’s Mustang, the odd cemetery completely vanished.

But there were no words that needed to be said that hadn’t already been exchanged while unspoken.  And together, they greeted the dawn, grateful for life—and for each other.

[pandadoesawrite]

retrouvailles: the happiness of meeting or finding someone again after a long separation. - panda. panda. write good family time with ghost cousins. do. it please.

ok this feels. very haphazard and i’m sorry for that but i’ve had this ghost reunion planned FOREVER. i just. mad mew made changed the game a little u gotta forgive me.

“Say, have we checked down this street yet?”

As if to answer his question, Napstablook phased out of a building down that particular road, and shook their head; Mettaton tapped his cheek in response, and the soft ‘clang!’ that followed seemed to echo throughout the Ruins. “Ah. Right… well, I suppose that’s it for this district.”

“You think we should go back over what we already covered?” As if to herald her arrival, Furi stumbled through a different alleyway, tripping over some long forgotten trash cans. Those crashes most definitely echoed in the empty town, and Mettaton had to wince from the sound. “You know how she is. Once she gets going, she could be anywhere!”

Mettaton sighed. It was poor manners for ghosts to question their own about their corporeality choices, and really, he was glad dear sweet Furi found a form she truly loved! He really was! He just… didn’t understand why it was THAT one, in particular. “Well, if nothing else, she’ll most definitely hear you, where ever she is.”

Furi squinted her eyes. It seemed slightly wrong, given how anime the eyes were. “Uhhhh. What’s THAT supposed to mean???”

“Darling, you’re tripping over everything.” He wasn’t trying to sound disproving--it wasn’t as though Mettaton hadn’t been there himself, years ago--but Furi was pushing herself too hard. That statue was so different from the dummy she’d been testing out before, and it was fairly clear she wasn’t allowing herself the proper time to grow into it.

“Finding Kazaa is important, of course, but don’t you think you should have… you know.” Mettaton gestured his hands helplessly. “Practiced a bit more?”

“UGH!!” Furi was angry, but that wasn’t different from any other day, so Mettaton didn’t take it to heart. “We can’t ALL be so MASTERFUL with a body we aren’t bonded to yet!!!”

“Hey, don’t you get snippy with me! I’m worried about you!”

“Oh yeah??? What are you gonna do if I DO?”

“I’ll tell Alphys you stole that statue from her lab.”

“! You wouldn’t DARE!!”

“Oh, I dare, sweetheart. I do a dare everyday of my life!”

“I’ll you know I SAVED this body from… REALLY TERRIBLE EXPERIMENTS!! ...PROBABLY!!! And I don’t need you telling me how to--”

“you guys…”

It was a talent, in its own right, how quickly just a word from Napstablook could get both of them to clam up, but clam up they did. It had been a while since he and Furi had sort of… gone ham about it, Mettaton supposed; they must have had a lot more pent up in their systems than either of them realized.

“Ahh--yes, Blooky. Sorry about that.”

“Yeah, uh--” Furi poked sheepishly at the bell around her neck. “Our bad. Um. What’s up?”

Napstablook, ever the gentle one, floated quietly out from the street they’d been watching from, and pointed down a different road; this one in particular looked like it lead into the old shopping district. “i...i think i heard something...in one of those old stores.”

Mettaton looked to Furi, and he must have at the same expression she did, hope renewed. “Do you think it’s Kazaa? Or just…”

“We haven’t seen any more of the Froggit clan this far in.” Furi said. “This… look, I don’t wanna get our hopes up, but this is the best lead we’ve gotten in… forever??”

“So long as she had the common sense to stay in the Ruins? ...I’d say you’re right.”

“i think she has to be here, still.” Napstablook added. It was a rare day when they sounded so sure of themselves, but when that downer-mindset had been changing for them, recently. “she… sent that letter with the spiders around when frisk came, so… that makes sense.”

Mettaton nodded in agreement. “Kazaa has a terrible sense of direction, but she knows somewhat how to stay put. And we won’t find her any faster standing around… so shall we?”

The store Napstablook had heard the noise from wasn’t exactly what Mettaton would call a department store, but it was certainly the size of one. There was a lot of architecture in the Ruins that didn’t quite match up with what they had in the rest of the Underground; all of this had been before his and his family’s time, and it was, in its own way, humbling to see how far monsters had come and advanced, even with their (then) limited space.

But they weren’t here for beauty; they were here for darkness, or at least, they were now, because this store was entirely pitch black. Not even the soft, blue-tinted glow of Napstablook’s spectral self penetrated the inky black in front of them.

Furi drummed her knuckles on one of Mettaton’s shoulders; her pinky on that hand popped out of its joint as a result, but she caught it before it was lost. “Don’t you have some kinda flashlight in there?”

“So rude. But I do have… something.” Mettaton closed his eyes a moment, when they opened again, the pinks of his irises shone like floodlights, bathing the empty store in a bright magenta hue.

Furi made a face that was too much like Undyne’s for his liking. “Ohhhh, wrow, I don’t like that at ALL.”

“i… yeah.” Napstablook didn’t look or sound entirely thrilled about this, either. “mettaton, that’s… really, really bad.”

“It’s a work in progress.” Mettaton was also not a fan, if he had to be honest--blinking was a rather considerate thing to do for everyone around him, even if he didn’t technically need to do so--but if you’ve got it, flaunt it, or so they say. And he did.

“Could you at least, like. Make it a different color??”

“Brand loyalty, Furi, hush--now, where did you hear the noise, Blooky?”

“over here.”

Napstablook led their cousins past old grocery shelves and magazine racks, and Mettaton did his best to keep them in his light of sight. (The pink of his eyes gave Napstablook a rather interesting periwinkle hue that made them hard to miss, but it just wasn’t their color.) The trio passed into room after room, with only dust to greet them. “Blooky, are you sure you heard something this way?”

“Naps has the best hearing out of all of us.” Furi pointed out. “Even with your fancy-shmacy robot ears, if they heard something, they heard something. You know that.”

“Mmm, fair point.” It was at that moment he realized that he and Alphys actually forgot to give his body ears, but he’d just keep that to himself. “I just hope it wasn’t just something falling down. This place is so old…”

“it might have been.” Napstablook admitted. “but i just… i have a feeling.”

“Far be it from us to doubt your sixth sense. It’d be hypocritical.”

“Isn’t that just a human thing, anyway?” Furi asked. “Ghost sensing??”

“Mmm… sort of?” Naturally, Mettaton had looked into how humans reacted to ghosts--you know, just in case the body thing never happened but the barrier thing did--and what he found… varied. “I can’t say anything without actually having spoken to one, but human ghosts? Super messed up.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“It’s a mixed bag; a good lot of them either don’t realize they’re ghosts, or are just trying to make the best of it, but there’s a small minority that seems willing to possess literally ANYTHING in order to just be a general terrifying pain in the neck. Bridges, entire towns sometimes, dolls are really big--”

“Wait, dolls?” Furi cut in. “Like… like US???”

“No, I’d say we’re in the minority for that.” Wasn’t there a horror story on some blog somewhere about an anime figure coming to life? It’d had been so long and so not-child friendly that Mettaton had pushed it from his mind. “It’s more in the, ahh… the Raggedy-Ann line of dolls, I suppose.”

“you mean like that one?”

Mettaton and Furi dropped their conversation, and looked on ahead down the hall, to where Napstablook was looking.

At the corner of one door, a ways away from them, was a doll. It couldn’t have been more than three feet tall, with long, red yarn hair tied into two braids, and wearing an elegant, green dress. There’s was rough, patchwork stitching all over its body, like it had been something different from another time, and its two, big polymer eyes seemed to look on past them blankly.

Then it blinked.

“AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH--MMMMMMPGH!!”

Napstablook flinched from Furi’s sudden scream, but Mettaton was quick to action, and slammed his hand over her mouth. “Furi, would you--stop screaming, you idiot! You’re a ghost, remember?!”

Furi pulled his hand off her to speak, but a least she wasn’t screaming anymore. “YEAH, I’m a ghost in a CUTE, NORMAL BODY, you nerd!! That’s different!!”

“How in the HELL is the body you’re currently in NORMAL?!”

“Well how the hell is YOURS normal?!”

“It’s not conventional, but it’s definitely better looking!”

“You take that BACK, you glorified waffle iron!!”

“guys…” The two of them were being so loud now, and their voices carried to much in the closed space of the store; being loud was not Napstablook’s forte, unfortunately. But thankfully, they didn’t have to be.

“Well, I’m glad to you’re both still lively as ever.”

Mettaton and Furi were at each other’s throats by that point, Mettaton actually holding his now smaller cousin off the ground--the marvel of opposable thumbs, ladies and gentlemen!--but the sound of a familiar voice called them all to still. Mettaton dropped Furi as the realization settled in, and Furi, in that same daze, hardly registered the fall.

The doll, speaking in a woman’s voice, stood up, a bit straighter, and levitated itself up and over to the three. It floated in the very same manner Napstablook did, albeit perhaps a bit more susceptible to gravity--and when it finally came close enough, it regarded them with a warm, familial smile.

“About time, too!”

“KAZAA!!” Furi scrambled off the floor, and scooped up her now rag-doll cousin up in the tightest hug she could muster. It was not tighter than Mettaton’s, who picked up the both of them together, and looped his arms multiple times around them. And finally, Napstablook, with the tiniest, sweetest smile on their face, floated over, and pressed their ghostly self against Kazaa’s cheek.

“Kazaa, I--!” Mettaton tried his best to suppress his sniffles, because if he sniffled, it meant he was going to cry. Didn’t mean he really succeeded, though. “I-I was so worried, I wasn’t sure we’d ever find you!!”

“Tell me about it! How long has it been since I went on vacation? And none of you remembered to give me the map!”

“Hey, that wasn’t OUR job, that was all on Bravi!” Furi nuzzled herself into Kazaa, but pulled back a second later in surprise. “Wait, I remember this fabric! This is what the DUMMIES are made of!”

“Yeah. I hid out in one of those for… a while?” Kazaa sounded unsure, but it was easy to see how someone so prone to getting lost might lose track of time. “I thought it’d be safer to possess something. Can’t really leave a place if I can’t go through walls, right?”

“Certainly made our work here easier.” Mettaton said. “But why is it a doll now?”

“The queen found me in the dummy. She changed it for me to look a little nicer.”

“...huh.”

“Wrow.”

“that’s… really awkward.”

“Tell me about it.” Kazaa stopped here for a second, and then glanced to Mettaton. “Actually, no, YOU tell me about it.”

Mettaton blinked. “I--About what?”

“I heard something about you attacking a child? On television?” Apparently, it did not take long at all for Kazaa to resume her role as the Blook family matriarch. Mettaton’s already pale face paled even more. “What’s up with THAT, Mettaton?”

“That!! Well! Y-You see--Furi stop laughing at me you did it too!”

Furi’s snickering immediately ended, and she looked between all her cousins, panic beginning to rise. “I! T-That was different! I didn’t do it on TV!!”

“You fought them TWICE!! They weren’t even antagonizing you!”

Kazaa cast Napstablook a glance. “...Did she?”

Napstablook paused and glanced up, as if weighing the pros and cons of telling the truth, but they knew where their loyalties lied. “she did do it twice… and mettaton did do it on tv. i got it on dvr.”

“NAPS!!!”

“Blookyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!”

“I see.” Kazaa’s tone was… authoritative, as she slipped out of her cousins’ holds, and began to float off towards the exit. “Well, the two of you were grounded to begin with, but now you’re both SUPER grounded.”

“Wha--no!!” Mettaton dropped Furi again, and this time Furi responded with a yelp, but it didn’t matter in the long run. “We were we grounded?!”

“Um. Leaving Napstablook to run the farm by themselves? That ring a bell?” Kazaa kept going off--slowly, though, because she still had to make sure she wasn’t going to get lost again. “So everyone but Napstablook is grounded now. That’s just how it has to be.”

“It does NOT!!” Furi leapt up from the ground, and chased after Kazaa, with Mettaton not to far behind. “Kaz, we can TALK about this--”

“Honey, this is an offence?? You can’t ground Mettaton! I’m worth so much now!”

“Super duper mega ULTRA grounded, then.”

For a moment, Napstablook watched them walk off, almost a little in awe that they all fell back into their family dynamic so easily: Kazaa, their reliable eldest; Furi, the snappy second; them, the softspoken third; and Mettaton, the fourth that youngest for individuality. And as Mettaton and Furi wailed and fought their eventual punishment, they had to smile when they began to follow.

For the longest time, they’d had the quiet worry that even if the four of them came back together, it wouldn’t be the same. Each one of them had changed so much through the years, done so many things alone, that a family reunion almost seemed impossible. But impossible things had been happening so often lately--the barrier was gone, the snail farm was thriving again, and the surface was their oyster--they supposed it was silly of them to think that miracles didn’t extend to ghosts, too.

[labgrownsteaks]

Chapter 9

Guy worked on the loading dock of a local thrift store. It was Friday, and he was looking forward to the weekend. Looking forward to the trip they were all going to take. He had googled about Siri’s “malfunction” and came up with nothing. He also hadn’t ruled out that since the actual unit was a knockoff, that perhaps it was simply defective. That’s what Vitamin’s mom gets for buying him a fake Siri Egg he thought as he lifted up a box of old keyboards onto a flimsy aluminum shelf. 

Joyce came up the dirty steps. She was in her 60s, and supposed had a broken back, carpal tunnel, “neurological issues”, sleep apnea, and every other thing she saw a product advertised for on the shopping channel. If the shopping channel had a way to fix it, she had to have it. She was the floor manager, essentially the person put in charge of keeping all the miscreants that worked there in line. 

“Whadduya doin with that box of keyboards? That’s for recycle!” she yapped while hobbling towards the shelving unit. 

“Oh, these are still good. The MX2000 is actually better than most modern laptop keyboards. If somebody had an old Module Console this would definitely come in handy” Guy stated diplomatically. 

“Crap. Crap Crap. Box full of crap.” She said as she rummaged through the box. “Crap.” she said as she tossed each keyboard in the giant rubbermade container. “Crap” She said as she through an old computer textbook into the “book box” . “Crap” as she threw a shrink wrapped pack of cassette tapes into the garbage. “Throw away the crap! Is it that hard?” The ironic thing was that Joyce probably had more crap than anybody else. She would come on Sundays when nobody was there, and unload boxes of it, and they’d be waiting for me Monday morning. Strange pillows to improve your posture while you sleep, garbage bags full of yarn, and an assortment of pressure plates for your feet. Of course all of this stuff had to go out on the floor , and of course it had to be priced just under what she paid for it, which pretty much meant the store was become a boutique of her discarded items. 

“Throw away the crap!” she stated as she walked down the steps. Guy walked over to the recycling, and the garbage, and got everything out and took it to his car, which was parked just a few steps from the loading dock. It was a pretty common occurrence during his workday. In fact, he couldn’t remember a day where he had come home empty handed, the only problem now of course, was that his stuff was now filling up his house. And his storage unit....and his other storage unit.. As Guy was walking back he saw a jacked up Chevy pulling up, it had a organ tied up in the back. Guy knew the organ would be “crap” and wouldn’t be worth unloading, so he talked the driver into coming over to his place after work. He’d give him 40 bucks for it. He could actually use an organ. 

Around lunchtime Vitamin, and Erin showed up with a bag full of McDonalds. 

“Burger for the working man?” Erin said as we walked down the alley. Guy was actually a pretty big dude, standing 6′ 5″ and coming in at around 250lbs. Even though he was a complete dork, he was built like a barrel and looked like the kind of person who could handle himself on a ranch. 

“What’s up goobers” Guy said as we approached. 

“Chow time” I responded, while stuffing a fry into mouth. 

We sat down together on the loading dock, and it didn’t take long for the subject of Siri to come up. 

“You can’t be serious about this shit bruh” Guy said to me. 

“What’s the alternative? We’ve been given a quest. An actual quest!” Erin said “Siri played Lord of The Rings for fucks sake!” 

“What do you do when you see a fork in the road Guy?” I said. “You take it!”

“You stole that from somewhere! I’ve heard that before” Guy said

“Yeah, probably, have no idea where from though” 

“So when are we dropping tomorrow?” Guy stated while biting into his burger. 

“Around 10, then we’re headed down to the river. It’s supposed to be nice out. We can hang out in the woods by the banks and plot” Erin stated

“Sweet, I’ll meet y’all there then” Guy said

“Tomorrow is the test. It’s going to be a big trip! “ Erin said

“A test for what?” Guy said

“If we can work together” Erin continued. “If we’re really going to pull this off, we’ve got to be able to work together” 

“Look. Even if we did break into Quicksilver. What would we do then? Like, what am I supposed to do? Just push the delete key, and walk back out?! The place is full of cameras. Literally, if I got in, I legit would have no idea of what to do....like...none” 

“How can we ignore this? “ I stated. “Like. Can you imagine getting old and having this chance and not taking it?”

“This isn’t a chance bruh. This is illegal. I’m not breaking in. Nope. Not doing it” Guy looked up at me and  Erin, and I could sense that he could sense our disappointment. “Seriously! No....Fucking.....way! Can you imagine me in prison? And for breaking into Quicksliver!” 

Erin had a sneak attack. “Didn’t Quicksilver basically destroy the entire dream of the world wide web?” 

“Yes. Quicksilver sucks. Yes, they are evil incarnate. Yes. They’re making the world a worse  place. No. No. No am I going to break into their headquarters. No chance!” 

We could hear Joyce coming up the steps. Guy shooed us away “Get out of here!” and we took off down the alley. They weren’t supposed to have lunch breaks, which basically meant the day was an all day snackathon for everyone who worked there. 

“You see that pocket fishing pole set?” Joyce squawked. 

“Nope. I think we put that out a couple weeks ago” Guy responded

“well it’s gone, and Linda doesn’t remember selling it either so.”

“Ok. Well I’ll keep an eye out for it” 

Joyce muttered something as she hobbled back down the steps. Guy could see Erin and me at the end of the alleyway. He watched us as we got onto our “motorcycles” and drove off. 

Another local to the thrift store scene was Ryan, and he pulled up to the Loading Dock in a 1978 Ford Fairmont. It was completely rusted out. The drivers side floor panel was actually gone, so when you rode with him you basically felt like you were in a Flintstone car. He had a bunch of Ham radio gear on the dash, and the sounds of James Brown were blasting as he rolled up. He was also prone to intermittent James Brown impersonations. He opened the door with some swag, and threw his jet black hair back. he had transitions lens in his glasses, and one of those baseball hats on that made him look like a Hollywood film director. 

“Got something for ya buddy!” Ryan stated as he walked up to the dock with a book in his hands. “You still collectin textbooks?” 

“Of course. How could I stop?” Guy responded.

“Super rare. I found it at State Surplus” he said as he handed guy the old textbook. It had a Blue canvas cover, no dustjacket, just the embossed “gold” font on the front. And it simply said ZXBASIC on it in bold letters. Guy began to thumb through the book, seemed pretty standard. Black and white diagrams for outdated programming languages that he loved so dearly. 

“Check the front page” Ryan said, and Guy flipped the pages back and inspected the first page. It read. 

ZXBASIC and Finite State Machines

Hyperdine Systems Inc. 

1967 

“Hyperdine was the first iteration of Quicksilver. Check the logo! It’s still the same. You could definitely get something for it on Ebay. Some fanboy would probably pay a pretty penny!” 

Guy felt annoyed at this point. It was one of those times, like when you stub your toe minutes before you have to take a interview for a job on the phone, and then your toast burns and stinks up the house, and the postman decides that now is a good time to get into a conversation with your neighbor who is restraining their barking dog in the apartment next door. Everything bad happens all at once. In this case, he felt like he was being pushed. And Guy didn’t like to be pushed. He just wanted to sit at home, with his new organ, and learn how to play inagaddavita amongst all of his plastic computer friends. 

“Thanks man!” Guy said. “This is really dope!” . Another car had pulled up, and a nervous middle aged woman with a small dog was waiting. Ryan noticed and popped back into his car. “don’t say I never did anything for ya man!” He said while starting his car up. The radio blared James Brown. 

Get up, (get on up) Get up, (get on up) Stay on the scene, (get on up), like a sex machine, (get on up)  

Guy looked back down at the beautiful code in the book. “What had Quicksilver become?” He thought. They had been so cool. Why did they have to just turn to crap? The woman pulled up and popped her trunk. She was pulling a dog carrier out of it. “Oh sorry!” Guy stated. “We’ve already got a ton of carriers. Maybe try Goodwill?” The woman, in her 40s gave him an exasperated look, and suddenly the carrier seemed to weigh a million pounds, and it was a major issue to get it back into the car. The rest of the day was pretty slow, and guy chilled out, on a nice fall day outside, and read ZXBASIC. 

[daughtertown]

I’m in a hurry. Perpetually.

It takes my Mom longer these days to do everyday activities, like getting dressed, putting on her makeup, and my least favorite time consumer- the process of zipping up her coat.

My impatience tells me to find wording that doesn’t strip away more of her dignity by externally sighing and taking over so we are not late for the Appt again.. but...

My role as her caretaker, Her POA, Her daughter, her Friend... whispers..

     “ Stop.. Be in this moment with her at HER tempo. Not my own. Allow her to feel a sense of control over this one aspect of her life- zipping her coat.”

I know all too well that a panic attack is on the horizon.  It is enough to break her physically and mentally- to get ready, and have to find breath that she doesn’t have- to make it out of the house, and into the car, for our brief trips to see the world, go to Dr. Appts. etc.

She can sense my frustration. Not AT her, but FOR her. 

If it takes 2 minutes, or 20- it is ok.

I know the sign of surrender- if the words don’t come-

The building tension in her shoulders will release in a heap of exhaustion and she will look at me as if she could say—

‘ Please help me,’ or  ‘ What’s wrong with me that I can’t zip my coat up’

My eyes will say..

‘ Nothing is wrong with you, Mom. These zippers can be finicky sometimes.. don’t worry- I got you.’

For I can’t recall the countless times you showed me Grace to Zip my own coat as I was learning to gain my own independence.

I will show you that same Grace in this moment as you are struggling with the frustrating aspect of your dementia driven ‘unlearning’ of these once oh- so -simple tasks.. as you, bit by bit loose - your independence.

Don’t worry I got you..

It is always then that I see her cry,

I then have permission to cry with her.

It is the only time she sees me cry.

There is comfort in the communion of tears.

In the absence of her tears- I save mine for the shower.

 Where the eucalyptus, noxema, and lavender attempt to soothe my sorrows and stress of the minute by minute battle to navigate the day.

I am forever greatFULL for the times that I’m prompted to let go of the time constraints of the moment- and just BE with my Mom. Be OPEN to mirror the Grace she showed me, and to some extent- STILL does, today.

I have a choice, a luxury of sorts- not afford to many.  I GET to care for my Mom yesterday, days past, and today. In this moment.. I am greatFULL for that.  

On this particular day, we were headed to the Dr’s to get her yearly CT SCAN to see if the Cancer has returned.  Those 10 minutes that she is out of my sight, and in a Tube that captures her cancer status is scary.  Waiting for the results to get uploaded to MyChart is just as anxiety ridden. 

This particular day, We got the ALL CLEAR !!  After Mom having Covid- 19 this October- I was certain we would see some further deteriorating of her Lungs- and they were OK!   

OK for her.. but I will take OK!

The Scan always has a STAT on the order.  We got the results from her Pulmonologist in under an hour.

We sat in the car for over an hour- trying to get caught up on emails and phone calls.  

Mom didn’t want to go straight home. She had been cooped up within our tiny home for months. She wanted to go buy something, yet not go to a big mall. We decided to head to Hobby Lobby so we could buy a Basket to help her organize her items on the kitchen table.  

It was on a Friday, It was my hope that Hobby Lobby would be  free of the Post-Holiday shopping frenzy, and be easier to navigate  the isles in her wheelchair.

I think I saw 5 other shoppers as we navigated the yarn section, the home decor isles, and settled in on purchasing a beautiful  basket, a bag of chocolates for her, one of those Inspo-Faith-Health books at the front cashier- that Hobby Lobby is famous for having...

When I was a kid- taking me to the store was quite a terror.  I would be fine until we had to leave. My Mom would loose track of me somewhere between the Husky Jeans section, and the Casio Keyboards.  If you were at a local Venture, KMart or Zayre store in or around the suburbs of Chicago in the mid- late 70′s, early 80′s - I’m sure you had the distinct pleasure of hearing my name bellowed out by the Service Desk Manager.  Summoning me to the front desk to meet a frustrated, In a Hurry Mother.  

I would always cling to the store in some way... Either by taking a few quarters and buying a tattoo sticker, or taking a ride on the Merry Go Round outside the door.  

I loved Shopping. It was such an adventure..

Now, it looks alot different.  

Mom didn’t want to look at anything in particular- yet she didn’t want to miss a thing.

I made sure she didn’t.

By the time we were out of there, We got the email from MyChart telling us that Mom was ok until next year.

....Another chance to test my patience, to escape the boredom of our tiny house, and do something scary, then something fun.

I always am in a hurry.

But its something I am working on.  

I so hope there is a next year.

[selenelavellan]

Snow and Snuggles

Muppet AU

Previous

Melarue, Aelynthi, and Anaris belong to @justanartsysideblog

Kass and Ash belong to @scurvgirl

Dirthamen, Thenvunin, and Uthvir belong to @feynites

After school hangouts turn into a regular occurrence between Selene and Dirthamen, after the sweater incident.

Winter settles itself into the neighborhood. The trees shed their leaves and snow leaves a thin coat on most rooftops. Dirthamen wears the scarf Selene knit him almost daily at school, and Aelynthi has no shortage of quips about the pair.

“Are you going to ask him out?” He asks at lunch one day.

“We already hang out all the time. That just seems redundant.” Selene evades.

“So you're already dating then.” Aelynthi points out.

“We're not dating. We're just hanging out.”

Aelynthi gives a disbelieving tilt of his head and looks to Thenvunin beside him.

“What do you think?”

Thenvunin sputters at being pulled back into the conversation, and gives a quick “What? Yes! Of course.”

Selene blinks, and glances over to where Thenvunins previous line of sight rested.

Ah.

Uthvir is skipping fourth period and sitting in on this lunch it seems.

Selene grins “I think Thenvunin is a bigger fan of red than blue, brother.”

“I-What? Why would you-Red is the color of-of-rogues and scoundrels and-”

“Those are usually your favorite characters,” Selene points out. “And it's Uthvirs color too.”

Thenvunins face flames.

Aelynthi levels a look at his sister “Give him a break, Selene. If Dirthamen were here, you'd be staring at him just the same.”

“Ok, one; no I wouldn't, I'm much more subtle than Thenvunin is, give me a little credit here. Two;” she continues, grinning at Thenvunin. “Dirthamen and I weren't the ones making out behind the bleachers after school yesterday.”

Thenvunins mouth snaps shut at that.

Opens.

Shuts again.

“I-Of course I wasn't-how could you even accuse-”

“If you would like to point out the other student in this school who owns a tie-dye bird sweater, I would love to meet them.” She interrupts. “Go on, I'll wait.”

Thenvunins blush only gets brighter.

“And what were you doing behind the bleachers?” Aelynthi asks Selene, attempting to calm his best friend down.

Selene just shrugs “Cutting through the football field is a good shortcut to get to the park. Dirthamen and I like walking through there sometimes.”

“Like on dates.” Aelynthi says flatly.

“Like as friends.”she retorts.

“Do you hold hands?”

Selene has to think about that. Usually the answer would be No, but yesterday Dirthamen had forgotten his gloves in his desk. It was cold out, and Selene runs warm anyways. His sweater didn't have pockets, and rather than letting his fingers turn blue, she...had taken his hand in hers, without thinking much of it. Just a simple warming glyph traced into his palm with her finger, and kept controlled with her hand in his.

“...Define 'holding hands'.” She finally says.

Aelynthi rolls his eyes and finishes off his wrap.

Lunch ends soon after Thenvunin and Selene try to explain to Aelynthi that neither of them are dating, but he doesn't seem particularly interested in either of their excuses.

She's still thinking about it when the school day ends, and Dirthamen walks into her last classroom while she finishes putting away her supplies.

“How was your day?” He greets.

“Are we dating?” She blurts out in response.

Dirthamen blinks.

Raises up a single finger, and seems to be going over several things in his mind for a few moments. Selene takes advantage of his preoccupation to zip up her bag and sling it over her shoulder.

“I am unsure,” he finally admits. “Would you say we are?”

“Well, I told my brother we weren't, so I guess I wouldn't,” she shrugs. “I just wasn't sure where you stood with the whole...”she makes a vague circular gesture with her free hand “...boyfriend girlfriend, significant other, thing.”

Dirthamen nods. “I am not against the idea. I find you very aesthetically pleasing, and I greatly enjoy our conversations and time together.”

“You're so romantic,” Selene teases with a dreamy intonation. “I'm not against it either. But I like what we have now, too. Could we just...stay like this for a while, maybe? And we can always revisit the dating label....later. Or something.”

Dirthamen nods again. “That sounds reasonable.”

She releases a breath, and puts on a smile. “So. Where to today?”

“I found a shop in town with a large assortment of herbs and remedies,” he explains, as she leads him out of the room, down the hall, and out of the school. “It is not on our usual route, but I thought perhaps we could visit it still.”

“Sure,” Selene agrees. “I don't need to be home until dinner tonight, Ash has track practice today.”

Dirthamen gives her a soft smile and they head out of the schools neighborhood and towards the main part of town. Selene sends a quick text to Aelynthi in case she's late or anything happens. The sidewalk narrows as they begin to approach areas more densely filled with roads, and their shoulders brush against each other.

There is a soft clearing of his throat before Dirthamen decides to lace his fingers through her own. Both of them are wearing gloves today, but it somehow manages to feel intensely intimate even without any skin on skin contact. Selene can feel her face heating up as she glances from their joined hands up to his face. He is wearing the scarf she knit him, and she swallows through her suddenly dry throat at the way the deep saturated blue of the yarn brings out the color in his own slate blue eyes. Bright against the pale backdrop of the snow, lips and cheeks pink from the cold air.

“Is this alright?” He checks.

Selene nods, squeezing his hand with her own in what she hopes is a reassuring manner.

It's like being in a pleasant haze, for the rest of their trip. Snow begins to fall from the sky, slowly enough that it doesn't actually seem to bother anyone. Lights from the stores pass by as they engage in comfortable conversation, discussing classes and upcoming school events.

“Ah,” Dirthamen announces. “We have arrived.”

Selene looks over at the shop front; it's old, and weathered. The front window shows a huge array of plants haphazardly growing inside the store, that seems to be growing more familiar the longer she stares at it. She's not sure why, but she can't help feeling like she's been here before.

Efflorescent Elixirs reads the window in flowing gold script.

Dirthamen opens the door, a soft bell tinkling overhead as they step inside, carefully wiping their boots off on the welcome mat before stepping onto the hardwood floors.

“Hello?” Dirthamen calls, stepping towards the counter. His hand slips from hers, as Selene stays stuck in the entryway, still unsure why this place seems so uncomfortably familiar.

“I'm coming,” calls a gruff voice from behind a curtain. As a man with graying dark hair steps out, long and braided down his back. Bright blue vallaslin thick on his face. More worn than she remembers, but unmistakable. A face that has haunted her nightmares since she was a child.

The elven man pauses as he spies her in the entryway, and his eyes lock with hers.

His eyes narrow, eyebrows scrunching together curiously.

“Dhaveira...?” he whispers.

He takes a step towards her.

“Dirthamen we need to go,” Selene breathes all in a rush. “Now.”

He glances briefly between her and the man that used to be her father, but makes no argument. He takes Selenes hand in his again and the two of them quickly exit the shop.

She can't breathe.

She is back in the back room and she is a child again and the taste of expired peanut butter is thick in her mouth as someone drags her down the street.

Her magic knots up inside her, recalling the exhaustive amount of experimentation she used to do, of when she used to work in that shop, before macaroni pictures and Nanae and Mama and Aelynthi and Ash.

“Selene.” Whispers Dirthamen, snapping her back to the present.

She blinks, and shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the memories. She is sitting on a bench, somehow. Dirthamen is kneeling in front of her, brows creased in worry while his thumbs rub against the back of her hand.

“Sorry,” She squeaks. Clearing her throat, trying to get rid of the painful nostalgia stuck in her windpipe, she repeats herself more firmly. “I'm sorry.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Selene hesitates for a moment. Finally, she lets out another breath and manages “He used to be my father.”

Dirthamen only looks more confused at that. “He used to be married to one of your parents...?”

“No, no. Goodness, no,” Selene chuckles, trying to bring a bit of lightness back into the conversation. “He was my birth father.”

“Oh,” Dirthamen nods slowly. “You had mentioned you were adopted, though.”

“I was,” Selene explains. “By Nanae. They found out my home life with my birth parents was...not great. They confronted my mother and father about it and...they gave me up.” Selene says with a shrug, trying to pretend it doesn't bother her. That she isn't upset by the memory of how easily they had let her go. How little attention they had given her growing up at all. At how much of a disappointment she must have been to them.

Dirthamen nods again, still obviously full of questions, but not sure enough of how to phrase them to ask. “I am sorry for bringing you here.”

Selene pulls her hand out of his and makes a dismissive gesture. “It's fine. It's fine! You didn't know.”

He frowns a bit, and stands. “Would you like me to take you home?”

Selene swallows and nods, wiping away a few tears she hadn't realized formed before standing. “Yes please.”

The walk back into the neighborhood is silent, broken only by Dirthamens scattered attempts to distract her with other subjects. Tired, and worn out from the surprise of seeing Elrogathe again, Selene tries to keep up the conversation, but is largely only capable of single word responses or the occasional nod.

Has he been there the whole time? They hadn't even bothered moving locations. Do they still live in the same apartment? Did he recognize her?

Where was her mother?

Dirthamen informs her they have arrived at her home, and she nods again. He frowns in concern, his hand slipping out of hers. Her head snaps up, and she hurriedly asks him if he'd like to come in.

“Are you sure? I would not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

“I'm sure,” Selene assures him. “I...could really use a friend, I think.”

Dirthamen nods, his expression easing slightly. “I could certainly manage that, I believe.”

Selene opens the door and leads him up the stairs to her room once their shoes are off. She drops her book bag haphazardly onto the floor, startling Des awake from his nap. She mumbles a quiet apology to him, and tells Dirthamen he can put his own bag wherever. No one else is home, still at after school activities or work, but she leaves her door open to avoid potential parental concerns later. They both shed their outer layers, scarves and sweaters forming a pile beside their bags.

“Would you like to knit?” Dirthamen offers.

“No,” Selene sighs. “To be honest, I think I'd like to cuddle. If that's alright.”

He swallows, the tips of his ears turning slightly red. “That would be...fine. I do not have much experience in this area though.”

Selene gives a half-hearted smile. “Don't worry, I'll be gentle.”

She lays down on the bed, her back to him, and asks him to lay behind her. He moves his legs awkwardly, trying to find a comfortable position before she finally just takes one of his legs securely between her own. Then he tries to figure out how to position his arms, so she lifts up one of her own to allow him to lay it over her waist, and places a pillow between her head and his other arm to try to make things more comfortable for the both of them.

By the end of it, they're both feeling a little more relaxed and at ease, some of the tension easing out of the room from giggles and friendly teasing.

Anaris pauses as he passes the room, before continuing his usual route through the house.

Selene lets out a breath, and melts back into Dirthamens embrace with a soft 'thank you'.

He hugs her just a little more gently to him, and tells her she is very welcome.

They're not sure who fell asleep first. Whether it was the soft glow of the snow outside, or the warmth of the body beside them with a purring cat at their feet that allowed them to feel so natural together.

But Selene definitely wakes first, when Nanae Melarue taps their nails against her door frame.

“Well,” They announce. “The roads are closed from the snow. I suppose I will prepare an extra plate for dinner tonight.”