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lolita-lollipop · 3 years

Note

Hi hope you’re having a wonderful day! Could I please get a bnha coraline au story. So like y/n has had a pretty bad life like a whole bunch of stuff and now they have to basically parents their own parents at the age of 15 cause they’re lazy alcoholics who just go to work come back and drink. One day after they move in y/n gets curious and finds explores around the house while they’re alone and discovers the door to the other world and meets their dream parents. The parents are aizawa and present mic who just genuinely love the reader, they don’t want to take readers soul that just want to help them. They have a sister eri and a brother shinso and when reader tries to leave they all beg and threaten reader not to leave cause “your parents never cared for you anyways” and “we’ll love you more then they ever would” and force reader to be the new baby of the family gender neutral reader if possible, please and thank you ( 03^)~💚

YANDERE CORALINE AU ERASERMIC FAMILY X READER

GN READER

-I do apologize if you wanted a shorter work, because this ended up being kinda long, sorry!

-there are a few grammar and spelling mistakes here and there, this is unedited, I will fix them :)

(I don’t know if you actually wanted the reader to be treated like a baby, literally like an infant, or just like the youngest in the family, I needed up doing the second option, tell me if wrong.)

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You hummed a tune as you wandered the hallways, your footsteps dragging, you had tried to tell your mother to drink some water and put the strong bottle of vodka down before she ended up killing herself. She yelled at you, told you to “shut the hell up ya damn brat”, god knows where your father even is. It had only been a day or two in this house, and they had already made it feel like a prison for you, oh my, A SINGLE DAY.

In all honesty the house was nice, old, yes, but still nice. It seemed as if the last owners hadn’t been here for hundreds of years, let alone clean the place, as all embellishments on the walls were antique styled, and everything, I repeat, everything, was covered in dust. There were a few different pieces of furniture that looked as ancient as the neighbors, including a dresser filled with a different articles of clothing, a few dusty chairs here and there, curtains clawed away by... something, and little tables with droors filled with little trinkets.

One room in particular was exceptionally creepy in your eyes, it seemed like a child once slept there, probably long dead by now, the walls were covered in a striped floral wallpaper, chipping at the edges, various stuffed animals that hadn’t been touched in ages, what looked to be a changing table, and a smaller sized bed placed in the middle, fitted with dusty purple bedsheets, probably that color because of the gathering dust, you sat down on the mattress, inhaling the scent of the room. It smelled oddly of lavender, not a musty mildew smell you were expecting. You spent a moment just finding comfort in the warm smell, before noticing a small dent in the wall behind what you thought could be a changing table. Almost looked like... a tiny door?

“What the heck is that?” You questioned or yourself, narrowing your eyes at the wooden frame that looked like a small threshold, cautiously standing up form the bed, and making your way over to the door, you struggled to move the large piece of furniture, pushing back gains the groun and shoving it out of the way. It was indeed a door, and it was indeed tiny. There was a small cobweb strung across the mass of it, which you batted away with your little hands, pulling at the doorknob a few times to reveal the fact that it was locked, you let out an exasperated sigh. Well... it’s not like you have much to do, might as well find the key.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t taken long for you to find the small, heart shaped key that fit the locked door, it was tucked into one of the white droors of the small table in the corner. It was the first place you looked, almost as if it’d been calling out for you. It only took a few moments for you to push the key into the lock and turn, you let out a sigh of relief when you heard the satisfying click of the lock opening. Wondering what was going to be on the other side, you pushed open the mini door, to reveal a tunnel of sorts... today’s just full of surprises isn’t it.

“Man this tunnel is lo... whoah.” You stood, still balled up in a crawli mg position, shocked at your own surroundings. Everything looked so... new, and polished, you stared Jan absolute awe at everything, literally everything. Where are you?

“Oh, honey you’re finally here!” A male voice rang out from behind you, immediately large hands were lifting you off the floor from under your arms, holding you like a baby, this guy cradled your head in his chest, no matter how much you squirmed, the iron grip he had on you did not loosen. You snapped your head up to meet his eyes, only to be met with buttons of such a piercing yellow it almost hurt your own eyes. A shrill scream left your lips, as you flung your feet back and forth in attempts to free yourself.

“Oh, oh right. I’m sorry , I should’ve been a little slower, it’s scary I know, you’ll get used to it I promise. I’m hizashi, your other father, re you alright?” He questioned, backing up a little to give you space, bringing his hands up to tell you he wasn’t going to hurt you, ever. You were usually a calm person, but given the situation, like some random person living in your house with buttons for eyes, the reaction was warranted. You breathed for a small moment, inhaling the even stronger scent of lavender that was oh so comforting, before standing back up, giving whatever this was at a chance of explanation.

“Who- who are you?” The question left your lips faster than tryouts could hold it in, he gave you a smile and walked closer again, booping your nose and once again pulling you off the ground. He was tall, slightly lanky, and his hair was a bright yellow to match his eyes, little dangle earring wee attached to his ears, you just stared in awe at the inhuman man who was holding you.

“Silly little thing! I just said it! I’m your other father, like your real father, just perfect for you! Dinners almost ready, so let’s go meet the rest of the fmIly okay bubs?” He questioned m, speaking down to you like one would a child, even though you are a fully capable human. He grabbed your hand, and gently rigged you off into some hallway, you slightly dig your feet in, staring back at the little door that got you here in the first place.

———

“Honey, this is your reality, if it was perfectly fit for you! We love you, unlinke those scum who call your your parents, don’t your bat to be loved for once y/n?” He spoke, the two of you arrived at what was probably the kitchen, him explaining what was happening pretty thoroughly considering he had to do it in a few minutes, barging through the doors, a few other pairs of button eyes were scattered thievhiur the kitchen.

“Daddy! I helped bubba make dinner tonight!” A little girl, probably not even over the age of five, came running towards the two of you, smiling fully. She was sporting a pair of red buttons, which matched her little jumper, you had your face buried in this ma- hizashis chest, his arms wrapped around the entirety of you. He sent an exited stare towards the little girl, who jsut gasped and smiled even harder. She made little grabby hands towards you, so hizashi set you down on the ground, whispering a “time to get down” in your ear. Instantly, the little girl attached herself to your torso.

“Bubba/sissy!” She squealed, patting your stomach, as much as you would love to knock her off of you, she’s a kid, you don’t do that to kids. This young girl claimed to be your other sister, which at this point you were led to believe because apparently anything is possible at this point, she was pretty adorable.

“I-uh, yeah?” You spluttered, visibly flustered, you tried to get a grip of yourself, it was kindof odd, although the girl seemed much younger than you, the way she carried herself presented that she was much older than she came off, from the maternal glint in her eyes, to the planned movements, it just seemed... mature.

—————small time skip—————

It had been maybe an hour, you had been seated at a dinner table, quite the large one actually, in between a black haired man that you could tell was staring at you, and a purple haired teenager who looked to be a similar age to you. You sat there just kindof awkwardly trying to not touch any of them. At one pint. The purple haired guy tried to feed you, which was an unfortunate suprise because you were off in dreamland, and were ckmoemteky confused as to why he was even trying something like that.

“You’ll probably hurt yourself trying, just let me do it” he spoke, it is safe to say that this button eyed family is an odd bunch. First the woerd door, then a creepy guy tryna pick you up, then some little girl who probably wasn’t so little claiming you to be her “younger sibling”; then the offpdutirng glances front his beanbag guy, than this? What is happening.

Sooner or later, after the really odd display that was dinner had finished, and you had help washing your hands, because for some reason they thought you needed it, it was announced bettime, and with a snap of the man him you learned name was Aizawa, food was gone, along with all the dishes. If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you almost lied this, of course not the babying thing, but the fact that you weren’t cooking or cleaning or trying to snatch a bottle from your parents, it almost made you wnat to cry how perfect this family was. God how much you wished this was your own.

It’s sounds selfish, and unreasonable, but you never had a childhood, the day you were born your life was already sighted off as “servant of my own parents”, you lived them, you did, these people were so nice thiugh, they were odd, maybe a little quirky, but still jsut a perfect little family. Apparently one that includes you.

“ALRIGHT! time for bed!” The yellow haired man exclaimed, seeeping you and eri right off of your feet, holding you in his arms as eri giggled at the sudden swish sound. The two men on the other side of the large room cracked small smiles at the sheer adorable ness of the position, the two little ones of the family and their father! What a sight to see!

“Shhhhh, I think y/n is gonna sleep with us to Tonight okay eri?” Hizashi whispered to the young girl, loud enough for you to hear, she nodded and smiled one of her sickeningly sweet smiles, hr eyebrows raising before her button eyes. She motioned to be put down ‘, waving goodbye and latching her own hand onto shinsos, who also waved his hand.

“Goodnight daddy! And y/n!” From there, you walked alongside them to their room, or what you supposed it was. This was the first time you’d really talked to Aizawa, and it was pretty embarrassing because he asked if he was aloud to change you out of your day clothes. You were a little too scared to say no, so you let him, it was probably one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to sit through, and that’s saying quite A lot.

When all was done, you had brushed your teeth, and wrrrnchanged into a set of lilac pajamas, silken and slippery, you were pulled on top of the yellow haired man, who then wrapped his arms around your waist and started “shh-ing” you, patting your head while rocking back and forth slightly, the other man slipped in next splaying his arms over you, rubbing circles into your beck

Mans with that, the lights went out, and you fell asleep.

——————————————————————

From there, everything in your life changes, you wake up the next day in the dusty lilac bed, wondering if it all was a dream, so the next night, you go back, and the next, and the next, until you started to spend your days there. Playing with eri, or cuddling with either of the three men, or just having fun without any worries or cares int the world. By that’s when it all starts, they kindof... changed.

They became overprotective, it showed in some more than others, but it was present either way. Al you wanted to do was check up on your dad to see if he was still alive or not, and eri had a whole crying fit, begging you to stay, and telling you she’d die if you left.

“No no! You can’t leave me! I-I I’m gonna die if you leave! I’ll die, please don’t keVe I promise il be good!”

It took a little shushing from you, but eventually you convinced her you weren’t going to leave, and so she went back to her normal self. You were with shinso once, and walked near the little door, he had immediately blocked it as if you were going to do something, then scolded you for going near such a “dangerous object”.

“You shouldn’t. Go close to that evil little thing, it might hurt you m, I don’t want you to get hurt, so stay away from it”

And then your other parents, they didn’t let you do anything by yourself, scared you would run off and get lost in the maze of nothing outside. You can’t even mention your real parents, you’ve been down here for at least a week now and haven’t been able to check on them, so when you did ask to go back for a day, hizashi slicks dying up and told you to cut out the nonsense, while Aizawa bubbles in anger, telling you that they lived you ten times better than your parents Eve could.

“They don’t deserve you, they don’t love you, we do, they’ll never live you half as much as we do, we can protect you here, why would you wnat to leave?”

Ans so one day, when your “other papa” or Aizawa, tried to take the key from you and lick you in here, you had enough. These people were supposed to be perfect, instead they turned obsessive, little button eyes showing up everywhere, watching your every move, you had thought your old life was a prison, now look at this.

You turned back, checking to see if anyone was watching, waiting to stop you, before pulling the key out of your pocket, ripping the boarding off of the door, pulling the panels of wood off one by one, shoving the key into the black door knob, you were just about to turn it, when a voice rang out behind you, no longer was the sweet girl who you played trains with, in the stead was something else just In ther body, you could hear it in her voice.

“Where are you going? You aren’t trying to leave are you?” She spoke, you froze on the spot, hands moving faster, ymtrying to get the stupid door to unlock, before you could even blink, the key snapped in half, not in your hold, in another sudden figure, your other brother. You didn’t even get the chance to speak before be t down and ripped the whole door knob off of it, giving you a knowing glance.

“I told you to stay away from it, I told you didn’t I? Now look, it’s broken” he hissed, throwing the iron knob somewhere else, you knew that I’d both of the siblings were here, the two parents were sure to be here along with them, you were proven right, as a pair of black and yellow buttons popped up behind the Eric girl, carrryijg... what is that?

“Oh my god... OH MY GOD” you screamed, the heads of your parents were in these men’s holds buttons sewn over the eyes, blood seeping out of their decapiated necks, you reMiedn screaming as the heads were discarded, jsut thrown off somewhere else. You were lifted up off the ground in your crying state, hizashi a hands stroked your hair, while his other hand went and wrapped around your butt to support you up.

“We told you baby, we tried to tel you at least. Now there’s nothing up there for you, there was never anything anyways, your safe now... they’ll never hurt you again. You’re ours...

Forever”

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Tell me if you liked it, I can change things if you want:)

#coraline au #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic family #buttons #tiny door #lock and key #shinsou hitoshi #shinso #erasermic #daddy erasermic #eri #yandere present mic #yandere Aizawa #yandere shinso #yandere eri

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rouiyan · 3 years

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hmm im quite new to tumblr and honestly am dissapointed with the lack of GOOD doyoung fics on here. can I request a scenario or a drabble (whichever u see fit) of doyoung taking me along when 127 were touring and the moments we had (backstage/fights and making up/ comforting when he felt unsatisfied with his perfomance/moments with some other members too) I just miss 127 touring a lot !! and ofc if this is too complicated u can refuse lol

hey lovely, this ended up way longer than it should have been but it’s really just a bunch of drabbles strung together that have somewhat coherence to another. i liked the way it turned out though and i hope that you do too <3

𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 — idol!doyoung x (gender neutral) reader ✧ genres : established relationship, fluff, angst ✧ word count : 4.7k ✧ disclaimers : swearing, food

synopsis — snapshots of what it's like to travel with your boyfriend. oh an his nine other teammates.

“how much space do you have left there?”

doyoung peers over you, chin propped atop your shoulder, and even though he sees for himself quite plainly, you supply him with an answer anyways, “not much, just the front pocket now.” his chin digs and you shift your head the slightest in his direction, to appease him with your attention maybe. he doesn’t budge nor speak so you take it upon yourself. “what?”

“quick kiss?”

plucking the garment from the assortment of items he'd passed along, you inspect it with curious eyes, "you gonna wear this?"

"huh? oh, that." he sits back on his knees, then onto his bottom, then crossing his legs, "i thought i'd give sleeveless a try." you don't mean for it to come out offensively, rather teasingly in actuality, "you?"

unbothered, he simply muses on, "yeah, me. why?" with eyes rushed and flitting across his surroundings for a sight of his phone. now you're even less in the intent of offending him, more so just pushing his buttons in the face of humor, a humor that's evident in the way you glance up from the tee, eyes locking with his own and shadowing with mischief, "with what muscles?"

doyoung clicks his tongue, sticks it into the side of his cheek, and now back on his knees, treads over to where you're sat, countenance teeming with amusement. his demeanor himself traces in the slight of a smile that's yet to appear, only held back as he defends his biceps, "hey, i've been working out, you know." you watch him situate himself once again, legs crossing just opposite of your own. placing both your hands on both his knees, you lean in, lips puckered and nose scrunched either in emphasis or hilarity, he isn't quite sure though he thinks it's cute. that is, until you speak again, "you want your kiss? how bout now?" and he mirrors with an, "i'll pass," standing to retreat back into the hunt for his missing phone, head shaking all the while at your devious antics.

minutes later and upon finding it within the folds of his sheets, doyoung reverts his attention back to you who, by the looks of it, has just finished packing for the night with both sides of your suitcase clamped shut but yet to be zipped. his feet are planted firm on the ground when you move to stand in between them. they're off the ground a moment later when you push him back into the bed with an 'umph' and a hug that pulls both your bodies flush against each other's.

you'd go on about it for days but to you, doyoung has always been a silent lover. a kind of lover that people would mistake as just 'a friend of yours' or sometimes even a brother, cousin, relative of the sorts. by no means is he vocal with his love for you, and though times are abundant when you find yourself at dead ends with the thoughts of how he seemingly flits between, in and out of love, the one thing that never fails to reassure you is how he holds you tight.

forehead on his chest and arms laced around his back, you do your best to hold him as closely as he does you but it's impossible, you think, and not because of his so-called 'muscles.' the intimacy you share with him is bred from comfort, apprehension, normality. it's apparent when he next speaks, voice lower and reserved for when you are close and the tingling feeling in his heart softens his regard a tenfold, "excited?"

you lift your head to peer up at him. the same softness is returned in your one-word response, "elated," as you thud your temple back upon his chest. the chuckles he give reverberate beneath you, "sarcasm or no?" a shake of your head is given but doyoung craves more. hands on your waist, he manhandles you, in the gentlest possible way, so that your head lies in the dip of his neck, arms around his shoulder, and legs on either side of him. he knows that at this point, your energy is already teetering the lines of consciousness. he makes the most of what little you have left.

"kiss me?"

a sloppy peck is left at the foot of his neck and your lips stay there for the rest of the night.

the wind slaps at the skin of your face. you swipe away a hair or two that it'd blown into your mouth, open as you exclaim into the wide air before you. the city air is noticeably laden with light pollution and carbon emissions alike but it's refreshing to you who has spent the greater part of the day limited to a cramped airplane seat. the shuffle of feet, a sound that's barely discernible in the mix of whizzing cars and honks, calls for your attention from behind. heeding to it, you find doyoung, swaddled in a sizeable down coat, with his eyes squinted in the wind. "coming in soon? you've been out here yelling for almost twenty minutes."

you give him a look that makes it seem as if the situation were of a scolding mom and a naughty child. it's like you're adhering to the script because apprehensiveness does indeed rest in your wary response, "i just wanted to try it, like how they do in the dramas, you know?"

his tone chides, "yeah, yeah i know," while dragging you back inside the warmth of the hotel room, sitting you atop the bed, crouching before you. "doyoung, what are you-" though bizarre, the prospect of a ring emerging from behind his back does cross your mind. instead, he draws forth a bottle of wine.

you comment on it a little later, four hours, with jaehyun sprawled upon the bed to your left, snores loud and resounding in between the sentences of your hushed (and very much drunken) conversation. "you know, earlier when you brought out the wine, i thought you were actually going to propose to me." under the lamplight from the bedside table, your boyfriend's cheeks are tinged a soft pink, flusteredness maybe, inebriation surely. his head slops forwards onto your stomach, off and out of the hold of his palm, and lolls there for awhile before his dwindling bouts of energy jolt him upright. the sudden movement of his elbows digging into your abdomen have you groaning until a light smack is landed on his forehead. doyoung gives you a sleazy smile.

"maybe."

suddenly you're very much sobered up. "what'd you say?" though doyoung is still very much intoxicated as his head tumbles down upon your stomach once more, mumbling against your skin, "i did bring a ring to surprise you. i don't know if now's the time though, what do you think?" you don't think, in fact, you are completely and utterly void of thoughts. his, "hm?" pulsates from beneath you but even then, you're at a loss of words.

"i think—" i think yes. "i think you ought to go to sleep."

when you will your eyes upon his figure, perhaps a minute later, you find that per your instruction, he's already fast asleep.

the flight from jakarta to london is 15 hours (too) long and you'd planned to spend a good chunk of it doing what you were doing now, seat reclined the furthest possible and knees brought up to your chest to prop up your switch. you'd come to the conclusion that packing your earbuds in your suitcase that went into cargo was perhaps your first big mistake; your second, forgetting to ask doyoung for his before he fell asleep. with the volume turned to mute for the past four hours and counting, you scrunch your nose as your animal crossing character silently stumbles across another wasp-laden tree, third in a row, but before you're able to net it, your boyfriend stirs from beside you, his fingers tapping incessantly on your wrist to call for your attention. you glance over at him, "what?" and when you glance back to the screen, you're displeased, to say the least, to see that your character now has a swollen eye, courtesy of the wasp and its programmed sting.

the look on your face when you drop your feet to the ground, the device dropping to your lap, is enough to get doyoung to cut straight to the point. "i need to brush my teeth, wanna come with me?" puzzlement clouds your expression and he furthers in explanation, "you know, to save time?" still not quite getting his point, you nod along anyways, thinking a little walk and stretch to the bathroom wouldn't hurt. "okay."

taking his outstretched hand, the journey to the bathroom turns out to to be the most stressful. the whole row of three very tall men (jungwoo, jaehyun, and johnny in that order) with their very long legs making the situation a lot more complicated than need be. you end up tripping once over jungwoo's left foot, twice over jaehyun's right shoe, and thrice over johnny's right knee, a lot higher than where any normal knee should mark when planted straight on the ground.

the lock on the lavatory clicks shut behind you right when you realize just how small the compartment is. doyoung closes the toilet lid and props a knee upon it, leaving you with enough space to place your legs shoulder-length wide at most. you look over at him, or rather, you tilt your head slightly to the right and chuckle into the fabric of his hoodie, his chest pressed into your face. you manage between your chuckles, "go on, brush your teeth."

his arms bustle their way around and about you to grab at one of the packaged toothbrushes at the left of the sink and a paper cup at the right. there really is no way around it though a moment later, he relents by taking both legs upon the toilet seat to accommodate you. his kneeling stance stunts his height so that you're at about eye level with him. "here," you pass along the toothpaste and he flicks a dot of it on the brush. instead of stretching over to the sink, he simply passes along the toothbrush for you to run under water, passes the cup for you to do the same, and accepts them back with grateful hands. "you know, this would've been a lot more efficient if you'd just gone by yoursel—"

"i know," he says it as if unimpressed, though it sounds more like 'iiroe' (or some other incoherent keyboard spam) as he continues to brush his teeth. you prop your hands upon your hips, both elbows hitting opposing walls and a teasing lilt is added to your voice, "are you mad you brought me along?" you're not sure if he's smiling or if he's simply following through with his teeth-washing regimen. doyoung shakes his head, "no." you smile at that.

you know for a fact that he's smiling when the two of you switch spots, quite the haphazard move for your head clunks onto an overhanging cabinet while his back is then subjected to half your falling weight. a hand of yours is quick to clamp over his mouth right when you gather your bearings because his laughs come out loud in between panting breaths. you're terrified at the thought of being caught by a passing stewardess who'd suspected two people and some funny business upon breaking in, only to find two people, yes, but one brushing teeth on the closed toilet lid and the other laughing hysterically with a hand clutching his sore back.

doyoung backs out of the bathroom at first alone, head snapping left and right in a spy-in-a-secret-agent-movie-esque way, before tugging you behind him, the folding door clapping shut. he waits as you prod careful steps over the three soundly sleeping men and he grins when his turn comes and he epically fails in his attempt to cross over in one, sweeping step. he apologizes sheepishly at the three, now awake though still very tall, men and he turns back to you, only then letting the suppressed sniggers out.

if not your lover, doyoung is your best friend. there's something reassuring about having someone that always has your back. whether it just be laughing with you, crying with you, sitting with you in silence as you both scroll through your phones, or even now, as he peers over your shoulder to watch your little character fish the same sea bass over and over again. you like the comfort that you share with him, the comfort you were so lucky to have happened upon.

the armrest in between is pushed up as you slip your switch back into the front pocket of his backpack. doyoung holds an arm out and you slip into the warmth of his side, head bobbing to the turbulence and onto the heights of his shoulder. he glances down at you, briefly, and when your eyes meet his, they curve into the sleepiest of smiles. the two of you sleep with the pace of your breaths in tandem with each other's, the two of you wake under the announcements of a landing, and your fingers hook onto the sides of his backpack as he leads the way off the plane, in a single file line all the way.

doyoung drapes a jacket over your shoulders the second you break the open air of london and he hooks the same jacket above your head where the awning of the airport stops and the thundering skies continue their downpour where it left off. his hand provides cover as you duck into the car, so as to prevent you from hitting the frame of the door, and when he slides in, right next to you as always, you grab his hand in your own, eyeing each other with the indications of a smile.

it's then, as you point to the little droplets that whizz across the window of the car, that doyoung finds himself face to face with the same conclusion that he comes to time and time again. he loves you, a lot.

the palm of his hands slide down the satin fabric of his slacks, repeatedly. the look you throw his way has him gulping. "you sure you're not nervous?" his hands stop midway, too obvious it seems. "not at all." a quirk of your lips is given in response as you take the seat next to him in the waiting room. you watch as he tucks his bottom lip under teeth and you watch as his hands shift in their continuation down his thighs but retract and interlink as if they'd remembered not to do so. a stage manager knocks once before bursting in, sweat trickling down the sides of her face and a side of her headphones pulled backwards of an ear. she pants though the show has yet to begun. "five minutes and he has to get backstage," is what she directs at you and you pair your nod with a kind smile, signaling her exit.

the interaction only seems to ignite increasing bouts of anxiety from your already antsy boyfriend so you take his hands in yours, situating your body a smidgen to the right, and do your best to absorb his attention in something, anything else that could sidetrack his nerves for just those five minutes.

"excited for tomorrow?" doyoung's hands squirm in yours and his facial expression morphs into a flicker of confusion before righting itself and following through with a reply, albeit half-hearted, "yeah, i guess."

"it's your first day off in awhile," you give his hand a squeeze, "and we get to explore the city, all by ourselves." he only nods along and though you're sure your attempt is futile, you hope that it falls through, "and new york's up next huh, i bet the snow will be real prett-"

"what are you getting at?"

it takes a second for you to process what he'd just did, what he'd just said, "what?" though looking at him, he's nonchalant as ever; the tone in which he rejoins makes it seem as if he's ticked off somehow, "why are you telling me this?"

doyoung's brows draw to a point and it throws you off. he is ticked off. and it's plausibly that realization that gets you taking a stand for yourself as well, voice now clipped, "i just thought that i could preoccupy your thoughts for a bit, you seem so ne-"

"y/n." stopped in your tracks, you blink back at him benumbed. "i've already got enough on my plate as it is, why can't you just let me deal with my own shit?"

there's something brooding beneath the face you put on for him. he sees it surfacing and he has enough sense to pay mind to it. that is, until you retort, "your own shit? then why the fuck am i-"

"yes, my own shit. last i checked, i'm the one going up on that stage tonight so stop talking as if it's our job." and his defenses are held back up, sky-high, untouchable. doyoung's scowling at you as if you've never been more wrong in your life when in fact, you're almost positive that he's never been more at fault. the clench in his jaw, his hardened eyes, edged stance, everything about him in the moment jars you and you want nothing more than to punch him square in the nose (you do have quite the mad uppercut) but you restrain yourself under the pretense that he's minutes, maybe even seconds, away from being called to the stage, to perform.

sighing, the only thought that comes to your mind as you gather your bearings along with your belongings is the feeling that creeps between the synapses that once had held tight in your belief of his support, of his leniency, of his affections when it came to you. you swallow thickly, bag in hand and other hand reaching out for your coat, because you're sure you've never felt as unwanted as you do now, in front of him, glowering in your presence. at least the glint in his eyes soften when you come to a stop in front of him.

doyoung peers up at you then, dubiously, and the first urge he receives is to duck his head back down. he feels small, and not because he's sitting and you're standing. he feels small, infinitesimal, with the knowledge that somewhere in those five minutes, things had gone awfully awry with little hope in rectifying in the little time left. the air that hangs heavy between the two of you remains silent, save for the unspoken passing of words that neither of you acknowledge. you're the first, and last, to break it.

"are you mad you brought me along?"

doyoung wishes he'd been quicker in denying. maybe that would've been enough to keep you from excusing yourself the second the stage manager had made her reappearance. maybe that would've been enough to get you to stay, to watch him, to cheer him on, to support him. maybe that would've calmed his nerves, finally, at last. he doesn't know, he's having a hard time deciphering his thoughts, chunking through his regrets, wallowing in his worries.

doyoung gets into position. the only thing he knows is that he's in the right spot, the glow-in-the-dark tape tells him so. he'll have to sing soon, and maybe his scratchy voice will add to his pile of regrets. he'll have to dance too, to remember formations, stage directions, but the idea seems so far away, foreign, when all he can think of is the look on your face as the seconds dragged on, waiting for him to say 'no,' to say 'of course not,' to say 'i'm sorry, i love you.'

he's having a hard time because even now, long after you've left, the words stay lodged in his throat. and as the screams from just beyond grow louder and louder, as the lights overhead grow brighter and brighter, doyoung finds himself face to face with the same conclusion that he comes to time and time again. he needs you, he needs you more than ever.

it's dark and cold when doyoung first enters. to the right, he flicks the light on mindlessly to be met with an empty room. he supposes that it's warranted. setting his backpack upon the bed, sheets still pulled crisp and unfurled, he almost succumbs to the taunts of sleep that entice him but a single thought of you rectifies him, hand fishing out his phone from a back pocket of his jeans.

it's then that he notices, with a startle that rivals a starring victim in a horror movie, the door to the balcony propped open a finger's length. he takes a glance back at the entrance to see your discarded shoes that had went unnoticed just seconds before, he figures. the curtains that skirt the adjacent windows billow in the wind that veers past the crack allotted, the gusts that becomes stronger and more fervid with each step doyoung takes in the direction. there's no creak that accompanies the swinging of the door, though he wishes there were so he wouldn't have to break his presence to you so suddenly. the second thing he notices, just behind the fact that you are indeed out here, is that the air is a biting cold, explaining the initial temperature he was met with upon entering.

you're wearing the same, thin sweatshirt that you had donned for your backstage viewing of the concert, regrettably the coat had been neglected in your state. from the far edge of the balcony, you know there's a whole world splayed out before you, buildings lower, taller, equally as tall as the high-rise of your hotel, winding streets that never seemed to end, traffic that never seemed to move. you know, but it's impossible to see for yourself with the tears in your eyes that come as fast as they go.

time is stagnant, has been for hours upon hours, for you. for you also, crying is foreign territory, really, you'd like to consider yourself headstrong in the face of conflict and composed in the face of inner turmoil. it feels silly to find yourself hundreds of feet in the air and hundreds of miles away from home, sobbing in the light of an ineffectual fight with your boyfriend of three years. and it isn't as if the fight proved detrimental to the relationship, it was trivial in all the ways that pointed to the single course of action being to simply make up with him and move on. but somehow, your hesitance holds in resilience.

you don't want to admit how unnerving it was to see an argument stem from such a small trifle, such a small amount of time, such a lack of care. why is it that situations that seem so small in their doing hold the most significance in their passing?

doyoung clears his throat and now you're the starring victim in a horror movie. a, "holy fuck!" accompanies the startle and the knuckle-white grip that both of your hands impose upon the rail. he steps fully out of the hotel room, into the frigid air of a london night, a london midnight in the middle of winter. "sorry, i- i'm back." rather lame but there's little headspace for you (or him for the matter) to process that.

with a hand still on the nob, doyoung stands stiff across from you who is slowly but surely withering in the realization of how pitiful you must look, hair mussed in the wind, tear tracks evident, and the remnant pants that your hiccups had left in the wake of your breakdown. if not pitiful, then straight up pathetic.

"are you okay?"

you blink at him. there's not much else you can say except, "yeah, i'm okay."

doyoung takes a step closer, a hand off the nob and the door clicks shut behind him. two more steps and he's a two foot distance from where you're stood on the far right of the terrace, gaze intent on his every action. he doesn't say anything at all, and what vexes you the most, he simply opens his arms wide, a forlorn sort of smile settling across his features. his apology.

there's not much else you can do except to give in to his embrace, reminiscent of all the love you've ever come to know, all the love you will ever know. you cry again, once in his arms; something about the smell of him, the warmth he gives off on a cold winter night, that gets you sniffling into his chest, finger fisting his own sweatshirt at the small of his back. a hand of his rounds your figure and holds you upright, the other is lain on the back of your head, soft strokes to tell you that he does care, he's here for you. really, the one thing that never fails to reassure you is how he holds you tight.

hundreds of miles from home, scratch that, because right there in his arms, there is nothing more convincing than the fact that doyoung is your home, you are home.

mark sips on his smoothie until the straw begins to make those whistle-y, echo-y sounds that tell of how he's finished the drink. a passing waitress takes the emptied glass from him and he gives a nod to her muttered, "refill?"

glancing back, he's met with a plate of food that's been cleared for a good while now and a table of mostly drunk boys that can't seem to get a hold of themselves. taeil, quite the horrific drunk, is slopped over haechan's side. neither of them seem to notice. and then there's yuta, taeyong, and jungwoo, all seated in a row and all with their heads fallen straight on the table, backs hunched over. sicheng and johnny are nowhere to be seen but mark supposes it wouldn't be all that odd to find one of them lain out flat on the floor, or underneath the table, or even suspended from the ceiling at this point.

mark glances across the table, locks eyes with jaehyun who had also decided to remain sober for the night. jaehyun gives a nudge of his head over to his right, to where mark looks to his left to see you and doyoung at the end of the table engrossed in conversation, so much so that it seems as if you're leaning into each other, elbows propped on the table and all. he could chalk it up to the speakers, the music was turned pretty loud, so naturally you'd lean in to hear the other better. or maybe, mark thinks, maybe the two of you are just naturally drawn to each other, a thing that happens to couples as he'd heard, subconscious actions like these are plausible as well. or maybe, mark thinks, but his train of thought is interrupted when the waitress returns with his strawberry smoothie, straw exchanged and drink refilled. he takes it from her, a gracious, "thank you," supplied and when she turns to leave he takes a sip, turning back himself.

whatever made it into his mouth is spat right back out when he sees the scene unfolding before him. here is mark's inner narration on what's happening:

doyoung-hyung's not in his seat, huh. oh there, he's standing, no wait—now he's kneeling, oh, he's kneeling. what's he getting from his pocket? a box, it's a teeny box. he's opening teeny box, oh fuck, oh jesus, oh he's proposing. he's asking you to marry him. oh my god, what if you don't say ye-

"yes."

✧ end note — hey anon, i hope that you thought it was a GOOD fic. if not, ahem, i apologize for taking up your time. but really, this fic holds together so many mini ideas that i had but were never substantial enough to turn into writing so thank you for giving me a base to build off of, i enjoyed writing it very much <3

#neowritingsnet #neothestars #doyoung fic #doyoung fluff #doyoung angst #neo-constellations #neoculturecafe #nct doyoung #doyoung x reader #doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #nct fics #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes #requested

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epochxp · 3 years

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Epoch Xperience Interviews Nordic Weasel Founder, Ivan Sorensen

Mr. Sorensen needs no real introduction to many miniature wargamers. His company, Nordic Weasel Games, has taken the historical miniatures gaming world by storm, and he’s become the force on Wargames Vault. His formula of “substance over flash” has produced good games for a very reasonable price, and he has taken full advantage of PDF technology to produce a quality product one can buy and have in your (virtual hands) the next day.

Without further ado, I give you Ivan Sorensen:

Biography

My name is Ivan Sorensen, and I am a game designer and self-publishing writer of miniatures games, as well as the odd role-playing game. Under the moniker of Nordic Weasel Games, I have worked as a game writer for close to 7 years.

I am an avid player of board games, miniatures games, role-playing games, video games, and anything else I can get my hands on. I have spent half my life on this planet in Denmark, where I was born, and half in the United States, where I currently reside. I am married, have one kid and two cats named Scruffy and Lancelot.

Unlike a lot of historical games writers, many of my formative miniatures gaming experiences actually came from science fiction games, so I suppose that has given me a little bit of a different perspective.

So, how did you get started in writing rules? Was there an “aha” moment, or did you fall into it?

At the risk of sounding cheesy, I have basically always created little dice and board games for myself, using Lego pieces or other things that we had available, usually based on video games I had read about in magazines or other ideas like that.

When I was 12 or so, I remember getting a copy of White Dwarf magazine from a local gaming club I had joined, and it blew my mind. We had some limited exposure to the idea of space marines and all these things from the Milton Bradley Hero Quest and Space Crusade board games, but the idea of battle games played without a board, using miniatures and dice was too much to resist. I knew I had to get into this, and as I had no money for it, I sat down to write a game I could play with my Space Crusade figures, which would look as much like what I imagined Warhammer 40.000 would be like.

Since then, I had pretty much always been the “rules guy” in the gaming groups I was part of, whether we were playing miniatures games or RPG’s, so it just came naturally over time, I suppose. As I got access to the internet and later got access to ordering things from the UK or US, I devoured every game I could get my hands on and was even remotely interested in.

The start to writing games that were any good was my own attempt at creating a World War 1 game system (titled Trench Storm). I had shared it online, and to my great surprise, it began catching people’s attention and got a (very) small following, with people even purchasing miniatures to play it. Eventually, I was contacted by the US distributor for IT Miniatures, who offered to print it to promote their 20mm figure range. The rest is, as they say, history. Once in a great while, a copy of that game still pops up on eBay, it seems!

How did Nordic Weasel Games come to be?

So that story took place right around the time I moved to the United States. After moving, I had a lengthy period where I did not have my work permit yet, so game writing seemed like an obvious distraction, resulting in Fast and Dirty, a sci-fi rules set that you still see mentioned online here and there.

As the years went on, I kept tinkering and building things but mostly for my own enjoyment. Sometime during the fall of 2013, I started seriously working on a new game system for WW2 skirmish actions that I felt had some real potential to go places. At the time, I worked at a relatively dead-end middle management job at an incredibly toxic information technology company. You know the sort of job, where you have been there for too long, and you hate every minute of it.

Come the spring, I decided to take a gamble that I could make enough money from game sales to make it worth pursuing and quit. I figured if I could find a way to do it without putting money on the line, then if it all bombed, I could just walk away and find something else to do in life.

Consequently, Five Men in Normandy was released on June 15, 2014, and as of today, we are still here!

What is in the future for Nordic Weasel?

Hopefully, many big things! The biggest priority for 2021 specifically is to get into print books, though there are a lot of stumbling blocks in terms of layout requirements and so on.

I always keep a list of projects I would like to do, though I try not to talk about them too much in case they fall through. I am the sort of guy who always starts with 20 ideas, so by the time the unworkable ones have been weeded out, there are 2 or 3 left.

What I can say is that I am actively looking at fantasy miniatures battles, and I would love to do more WW1 and Black Powder era gaming material.

The real big question is that I am also very much at a point where there are just too many things to do it all alone. I cannot write 4 or 5 new games, support an entire back catalogue, and update old titles all by my lonesome, so I look forward to trying to solve that in the future. I suppose this is a good problem to have, but it is certainly also an intimidating one!

Is there a period of history you want to write rules for but have not?

We have worked extensively with the two world wars and the black powder era in general, as well as 20th century-to-modern era battles, and with Knyghte, Pyke and Sworde we even delved into medieval warfare.

The one that stands out as something that would be fun to do is World War 1 air combat, complete with goggles and scarf flapping in the wind. A little romanticized sure, but great fun, and there is a lot of fantastic models available.

For a historical era I have not touched on at all, I would say that while I have done games that cover it among other 19th century conflicts, a dedicated American Civil War set is something I would be very keen to do.

There are a lot of fantastic rules out there for the period, of course, but I feel like the “Weasel” approach of being solo-friendly and campaign-oriented could carve out a nice space of that market. Plus, I find the era quite fascinating. Growing up in Denmark, I was never really raised with a particular view of the conflict, but having married into a proud Vermont family, it is, of course, unavoidable.

Can you tell our readers what goes into rules writing?

I think this is something that is intensely personal, and the rationale for writing something can be varied: It may be due to sensing an opening in the hobby space that does not seem to be catered to currently. It may be that I have a personal passion for a given setting or era, or it may simply be that I have a clever game mechanic and want to build a game around it.

The process for me usually starts with sketching out a page or two of keywords, mechanics, and things I’d like to hit on a notepad. Then I work on building it out with simple sketches for the main areas of the mechanics: Activations, movement, shooting, morale, and so forth. Basically, carving out the cornerstones of the game system. At this stage, it is entirely possible it feels like it’s not going anywhere, and it goes in the bin.

If the core idea seems to have merit in this skeleton form, it’s time to test it out with some generic troops and see if it actually feels fun on the table. From there, you just build out from it: Get other people to read and play it, read it out loud to yourself, etc. Figure out what parts need ironing out and improving and which are good.

It is really all an iterative process. Once I know the game has legs to stand on, I start writing out the table of contents in advance, so I can “fill in the blanks” as I go. If I know I am going to have a section later for off-map support, I can keep that in mind when I am developing each piece of the mechanics and so forth.

Eventually, any project hits “The Suck (TM).” This is whatever part you hate doing the most, whether it is layout or proofreading or points systems or whatever. For me, it is terrain rules, funny enough. I never read that section of a rulebook, and I never enjoy writing it, but you must. “The Suck” is where your game will probably die because if you let it overcome you, you will put the book down, and every time you click on the word processor, you will immediately be faced with it. The best way to defeat “The Suck” in my experience is caffeine and not letting up: When it starts rearing its ugly head, it is time to keep going and don’t stop until you are through with it.

Has desktop publishing and PDF only supplements changed the face of the hobby? Has it affected the quality of the product we see today?

Absolutely yeah. It’s not that long ago that a game being available in PDF was a novelty, whereas today, if a game is NOT available in PDF, you are going to lose sales.

I think the barrier of entry has also dropped dramatically. Even a basic word processing package can churn out a PDF document that you can distribute online or sell. Of course, with proper page layout software, you can achieve much greater results (as some of my friends are rarely missing a chance to tell me), but you need to examine what your skill limit is. Any tool has a skill cap, to borrow a video game term. If you are not currently good enough at what you do to push up against the limitations of your software, burning 200 dollars on new apps will not make your books any better.

It is funny, though, because the wargaming field is so diverse in the type of things we see. You can pick up relatively big-name games that are incredibly plain-looking: Black and white, no art, rudimentary layout. Then right next to it, you see a PDF that is full-color, original artwork, and gorgeous. And the two can be viewed as equal value to the audience.

Of course, eye candy DOES sell, but I think once you are beyond the Warhammer circles, gamers become a lot more content-focused.

What are your favorite historical periods and why?

The 19th Century, the two world wars and the Russian Civil War.

Really, the whole era from circa 1910 to 1925 or so is fascinating to me: It is, of course, the transition of the old, romanticized world to the world of modern warfare, as well as being incredibly diverse in the sort of things you can see. The Russian Civil War sees tanks and armored cars, partisan bands, nationalist militias, Red and White guards, Cossack cavalry armies, Anarchists, and anything else you can shake a stick at. It is really a wargamers heaven for finding odd units to model up on the gaming table.

Honestly, my love of history, in general, comes from one source: “All Quiet on the Western Front.” I think anyone with a passion for history has that moment where they realize that history is not about abstract concepts and kings and dates but is about real people who lived and breathed and had dreams and hopes. “All Quiet” was that for me, and it left a life-long impression on me when I read it as a teenager a few years from the age of the characters in the book.

What do you see for the future of historical miniature wargaming?

Oof, that is a dangerous question. I think I managed to predict the rise of “Warband” level games (games where you play a small force in skirmish actions and with some level of character progression between games). Right now, that idea has set the fantasy and sci-fi miniatures scenes on fire, with everyone churning out their own version of the concept.

In historical gaming, there are elements of it, but it has not been embraced to the same extent, possibly due to the grognard bias against skirmish games. I think if I had to put money on something, I would say watch out for historical skirmish games with campaign aspects or character progression in the next year or three.

I also think solo gaming is going to continue to gain in popularity and respectability, with more games developed primarily or even specifically for solo play. I am super excited to see this field because there is a lot of things that can be done here with how enemies arrive on the table, fog of war, and so forth, which is not possible in a conventional opposed game.

Playtesting, how important is it?

Very, but it’s also very misunderstood. I see people post all the time on forums about how they have been testing their game rules for 5 years. That sounds very impressive, but if you are only getting together 3 or 4 times a year in that time frame, you are basically starting over each time. Additionally, just playing the game with your own group is fine to iron out the basic problems of a game, but it will lose its value very quickly.

To get actual feedback, give the game to people who cannot ask you questions and let them figure it out. Now your text must stand on its own feet and must work without you being there to explain the intentions. That is the real test. I would say three games played by strangers is worth more than ten games with your usual Saturday group.

Of course, tracking down people who can understand the rules, will play the game, [and] report back to you, AND aren’t crazy is a challenge. If you post online, 50 people will say they would love to, and of those, two will read the book. Once you find reliable people who can give you good feedback, cling to them for dear life.

What are the benefits and pitfalls of self-publishing your own wargaming rules?

The biggest advantage is, of course, that you are in charge. What you want in the book goes, if you want a supplement, it will happen, and so forth. Additionally, your game will reflect what you wanted it to be. I think in [self-publishing], you get a lot clearer creative visions and indie gamers tend to gravitate towards that: A game that has something to say on the topic is extremely attractive, even if you disagree with a particular conclusion.

I try to do as much myself as I can, though, of course, I do rely on outside sources for things like artwork, feedback, etc. Part of that is that this way, I know I can support the product down the road: If I want to fix a rule where we came up with a better way of doing it, or I want to add a new section, I can do that.

The downside, of course, is that you are on your own: Your art is as good as your own wallet can make it, your book looks as good as you can make it (unless you pay for it), and so forth. You also must promote it yourself. If you are writing for something like Osprey, they have marketing power and money to put behind the project.

Anything else you would like to say to our readers?

Before you write a game, ban yourself from reading any game on the same topic for a few months. If you are writing a WW2 tank game, put all your WW2 games in a box and do not open it. You should be spending that time immersing yourself in the topic in the form of books, music, documentaries, or anything else. Never ever another game.

Also, it cannot hurt to blast some metal albums, at least in my experience.

At Epoch Xperience, we specialize in creating compelling narratives and provide research to give your game the kind of details that engage your players and create a resonant world they want to spend time in. If you are interested in learning more about our gaming research services, you can browse Epoch Xperience’s service on our parent site, SJR Research.

(This article is credited to Jason Weiser. Jason is a long-time wargamer with published works in the Journal of the Society of Twentieth Century Wargamers; Miniature Wargames Magazine; and Wargames, Strategy, and Soldier.)

#Wargame Miscellaneous #interview #wargaming #history #gaming

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emospritelet · 5 years

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[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9][Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15]

AO3 link

We’re getting closer to a confrontation and some truth-telling between Weaver and Lacey, but it isn’t this chapter

Weaver was glad he had the distraction on his day off work of having arranged a play date for Tilly with Neal Nolan. He felt as though he was going slowly mad, but he knew that spending time with his daughter would do him good, not to mention it would give Nolan a chance to talk some sense into him. He needed that more than ever.

They spent the morning at the park, followed by a picnic lunch in the lounge while watching a Disney film. Nolan had suggested a painting session before their trip to the swimming pool that afternoon, and as it was his house Weaver figured it was up to him how much mess was made in it. They set the children up with a plastic sheet spread over the kitchen table, paint pots and brushes and a ready supply of old rags to mop up any spillages. After twenty minutes or so, Weaver left Nolan supervising the building chaos and went out to the garage, where his whiteboard was growing more cluttered by the day. He needed to add a good bit of information to it following Lacey’s visit to the station and his own research.

He had pulled a series of mugshots of local criminals who were known to be for hire to bigger fish, and lined them up at the base of the board, looking them over. Further investigations into the Black Fairy hadn’t yielded much from his informants, but there was general agreement that one of the men rumoured to accompany her during her visits had been dark-haired and fairly good-looking. He wasn’t sure which of the six potential candidates he had chosen would be the one, but he hoped that seeing their faces would spark some sort of connection in his brain.

“Daddy, look!”

Weaver turned at the sound of Tilly’s voice, smiling as she held up a piece of paper, dripping watery colour on the granite floor.

“Here, sweetheart, let me take that off you,” he said, grasping the edge and holding it level. “Wow, that’s great! Is that a dog?”

“It’s Wilby,” she confirmed. “Can we get a doggy?”

“Uh - I don’t think you can have pets in the apartment,” he said, and she pouted.

“That’s stupid.”

“I know.”

He studied the painted dog, a dark blue mess of colour with a bushy tail and a lolling red tongue about half its size. Perhaps there was a way to get a dog for her. It would mean getting his own place, perhaps a tiny house in the suburbs, but that would be better for her, right? Space to play outside, to rough and tumble with a dog, to be a kid. It was about time he gave up apartment living and thought about what was best for his daughter. Commuting to and from the precinct wouldn’t fucking kill him.

While he was thinking over their possible future, Tilly had walked over to the whiteboard and was staring up at it.

“Bad man!” she declared, and Weaver turned.

“Who’s bad?” he asked, and Tilly slapped one of the pictures.

“Bad!”

Weaver set down the painting carefully, moving to join her.

“This man?” he said, plucking the picture from beneath its magnetic button. “Have you seen him before?”

Tilly screwed up her face, then nodded.

“Where?” asked Weaver. “Did he come to the apartment?”

A pause, then another nod.

“Did you talk to him?”

“No,” she said decidedly. “He smells.”

“Good girl.” He ruffled her curls. “What about these other men? Did you see any of those?”

Tilly frowned at the pictures, then shook her head.

“Okay,” said Weaver. “Hey, how about you paint me a picture of Dragon while I make some lemonade for you and Neal?”

“Yeah!”

She ran back to the kitchen, and Weaver frowned at the photograph in his hands. A dark-haired man with a close-cropped beard and a faint scowl looked out at him. His name was Arthur Penn, according to the mugshot. A history of petty thefts, witness intimidation and assault convictions. It would be interesting to find out what he had been doing in Lacey’s apartment.

“So you definitely have it, then?”

Arthur’s voice was a drawl, the tone of someone who had heard it all before and suspected he was being lied to. Lacey felt her jaw protrude in annoyance.

“I said I’d get it, and I did,” she said curtly. “I’ve booked a flight out tomorrow morning.”

“In that case I’ll have someone meet you in Boston,” he said. “We wouldn’t want you to get lost, would we?”

“Fine,” she said wearily. “Whatever.”

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic about it.”

“I just want this over with, okay?”

“Alright,” he said. “Text me the flight details, I’ll make sure there’s someone waiting for you.”

“Great.”

She rang off before he could say anything else, texting the flight number and arrival time before dropping the phone on the bed. The apartment seemed very empty with Tilly gone, and she sat for a moment, staring at her hands where they lay folded in her lap, slim fingers threaded together. She couldn’t keep putting it off forever. It was time.

Fingers trembling a little, she picked up the phone again, this time to call Weaver. Every cell in her brain was screaming at her that she was a coward, that she should at least have the decency to look him in the eye when she lied through her teeth, but she knew she couldn’t do it. The faceless distance of a phonecall was as much as she could manage. At least it wasn’t a text.

“Hey,” he said, when he picked up, and she squeezed her eyes shut. He sounded - cautious. Could she blame him?

“Hey,” she said. “How’s Tilly?”

“She’s fine,” he said, after a pause. “We’re over at Nolan’s. Play date with Neal. They’ve been painting, so once we get them cleaned up, it’s off to the pool. I told them we’d go for burgers afterwards. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course,” she said. “You don’t need my permission.”

“Okay.” Another pause. “Look, I’m glad you called. I wanted to talk about this weekend—”

“Yeah, about that,” she interrupted. “I know I said maybe we’d do something, but I can’t. I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.

“Nothing,” she lied. “At least, nothing serious. I have a funeral to go to, and it’d be easier if Tilly could stay with you for a few days.”

“Funeral?” he said. “Whose funeral?”

“Old friend.”

“Which old friend?” He sounded suspicious now, and she wished she could have come up with something more convincing. “The only friend I’ve ever heard you mention was in Maine.”

“Yeah, it’s not Maine,” she said quickly. “It’s Vegas. And - and it’s not really a friend, okay? It’s a family member that I’m not sorry is dead.”

“Right.” Silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She sighed, running a hand over her face. “No, it’s fine. Can’t decide whether I’m going to pay my respects or just make sure they’re really in the damn ground, you know?”

Weaver was quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Lacey.”

“Don’t be,” she said wearily. “Just - can you look after Tilly for a few days?”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask.”

“I know you have work, that’s all.”

“I can take some time off,” he said gently. “Just go and deal with your - family thing.”

“Thank you.” She bit her lip, clutching at the phone. “You’re good to me, Rafe. And to Tilly. You’re a good father. A good man.”

“I don’t know about the last part,” he said. “But you both make me want to be better.”

She screwed up her face, eyes stinging, and Weaver sighed.

“Lacey, I meant what I said. You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’ll be back by Tuesday, okay?”

“Are you flying?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need money?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he said. “When do you go?”

“Tomorrow,” she said. “First flight out.”

“Call me when you get the chance,” he said. “I’d like to know you got there okay. Safe trip.”

The phone clicked as he hung up, and Lacey tossed it aside, covering her face with her hands and wondering if she would ever hear his voice again.

Weaver slipped his phone back into his pocket, mouth twisting. The chatter of the children behind him was light and cheerful, an odd counterpoint to the dark clouds that seemed to be swirling around him. He glanced at the jug of lemonade he had prepared, condensation starting to form on the glass as the ice cooled it from within.

“You okay?”

Weaver started at the sound of Nolan’s voice, turning to face him. Nolan was staring up at him from the chair, concern on his face, and Weaver jerked his head towards the garage before striding off. He heard the squeak of Nolan’s chair as he followed. The whiteboard stood where he had left it, one of the pictures having come free of its button and fluttered to the ground. Weaver snatched it up, crushing it into a ball between his palms as anger and frustration made his breathing quicken.

“Whatever’s going on with her, it’s happening this weekend,” he snapped.

“Lacey?”

“Yes, bloody Lacey! She just called up to tell me some bullshit about a family funeral!” He fired the ball of paper at the wall, watching it bounce off and fall forlornly to the floor. “What the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t leave Tilly and go chasing after her, even if I knew where she was going!”

“Didn’t she say?”

“Oh, she said she was going to Vegas, but that’s bollocks.” Weaver began striding back and forth. “No, I reckon she’s going to Maine. Storybrooke, to be precise.”

“What for?” asked Nolan.

“Not sure yet,” he admitted. “I may have a lead, though. Tilly recognised one of these creeps.” He gestured at the picture of Arthur Penn. “I think I might have a word with him.”

“Great, I’ll come too.”

“No, you fucking will not!” snapped Weaver. “Beating up Hamelin for intel is one thing, tracking down a fucking big bad’s lackey is something else entirely.”

“Oh, come on!”

“No fucking way, Snow would kill me!”

“Snow would kill you for what?”

The sound of his wife’s voice made Nolan start in his chair and crane his neck towards the doorway. Snow was standing with her arms folded, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, hey honey,” said Nolan lamely. “You’re back early.”

“Just as well, by the sound of it,” she said, in a dry tone. “What are you threatening to get involved in now?”

“I - nothing, I was just—”

“I need to go and beat the crap out of someone so they’ll tell me why my wife is in danger,” said Weaver, catching Snow’s eye. “I may also need to chase my wife all the way to Maine to get her out of whatever shitty situation she’s found herself in. Neither of which is something I want my daughter involved in. Or your husband.”

“Good,” she said, shooting Nolan a flat look before glancing back. “In that case, go do what you have to do. Tilly’s more than welcome to stay with us.”

Weaver hesitated.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” he said. “It’s just - these are bad people, and if I can get to Lacey before she does whatever stupid thing she’s planning on doing, they might take offence. I don’t want them posing any risk to Tilly, or to you. It’s known that we’re friends, and they might - well, they might come here, that’s all.”

Snow seemed to think for a moment, her eyes fixed on his, then she took a deep breath and clapped her hands together.

“Well,” she announced. “I think it’s time we took a trip down to California for a few days, don’t you, David? We can pack Wilby and the kids into the car and go get a little winter sunshine, what do you say?”

Weaver smiled.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, and she smiled and nodded an acknowledgement.

“I’ll go pack,” she said, and her eyes flicked to her husband. “Do what you can to stop him getting himself killed, okay?”

“Well, that’s what I was trying!” protested Nolan, and she sniffed and tossed her head before ducking back inside.

“Without going with him!” she called over her shoulder.

“See?” said Weaver, and Nolan grumbled.

“Fine,” he said. “At least take Fa with you.”

“No, I already told you…”

“Yeah, and your reasons are bullshit! She’ll kill you if you go off on your own like this!”

“For the last time, no!” Weaver shook his head, tucking his shirt into his jeans. “Look, I’d better go. I have an idea where I might catch this piece of shit.”

“You’re going now?”

“No time like the present.” He took a final look at the whiteboard. “I’ll make a few calls, say goodbye to Tilly, and I’m out of here. I’ll call you just as soon as I have news.”

“Be careful, would you?” said Nolan. “Try to at least think for three seconds before you go charging in somewhere.”

“Oh, I’ll be careful,” said Weaver grimly. “I got something to live for.”

Nolan went in to watch over the children while Snow packed and Weaver made a series of calls to his network of young informants, seeking info on any sightings of Arthur Penn. After hugging Tilly goodbye, and assuring her that he would be back just as soon as he’d taken care of some bad people, Weaver drove back to his apartment to pick up his gun, cuffs and badge. He took an extra clip, slipped into the inside pocket of his jacket, and after a moment, dug out a knife in its sheath and strapped it to his lower leg, beneath his jeans. It paid to be prepared, after all.

He glanced in the mirror as he strode into the hall. A grim expression seemed to be permanently etched on his face these days, his eyes darkened by worry. He scowled at himself. One way or another, he’d get to the bottom of this. One way or another, he’d save his family.

A knock at the door made him start, and his scowl grew. Whoever was calling, he wasn’t fucking interested. He wrenched open the door, mouth opened to release a tide of profanity, and the words caught in his throat as Detective Fa and Officer Dunbroch shoved him aside, kicking the door shut behind them.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” demanded Merida, hands on hips as she shook back her hair.

“Mind your own business!” he growled. “Can’t a man have a fucking day off work without the world’s most annoying lesbians butting in?”

“Apparently not,” said Fa dryly, dark ponytail swinging. “Seems that the world’s most annoying lesbians really care about the world’s most fucking stupid asshole detective with a death wish. I’m afraid you’re stuck with us.”

“Well, you can bugger off, I’m busy,” he spat.

“Yeah, we know,” said Merida, with a snort. “That’s why we’re here.”

“I don’t want—”

“Nolan ratted you out,” interrupted Fa. “Good thing, too. I see you haven’t totally lost that reckless streak. Shit like that’ll get you killed.”

Weaver let his head roll back with a groan, and ran his hands over his face. When he took them away again, Fa and Merida were watching him with identical stern expressions.

“I didn’t want to drag you into something personal—” he began.

“You’re a bloody idiot,” said Merida bluntly. “Do you seriously think we’d let you bugger off and have an adventure without us?”

“This is not a fucking adventure!” he snapped. “These are dangerous people and there’s a serious risk I could get killed!”

“All the more reason for us to tag along and drag your skinny ass out of the fire, then,” said Fa. “Now stop fucking whining, and tell us how we can help.”

Weaver growled impatiently, tapping a foot in irritation. Come on, you idiot, you need them!

“Alright, fine,” he said, in resignation. “Here’s what I need you to do.”

Half an hour later, the three of them were pressed against the wall in the alleyway outside The Rabbit Hole, waiting for their quarry. Arthur Penn had been spotted drinking in the bar by one of Weaver’s street kids when she had stopped to pick up a small drugs package for delivery, and she had informed Weaver as soon as she left. He had just finished explaining Lacey’s situation to Fa and Merida when he got the call, and while they had muttered darkly about him keeping it to himself for as long as he had, they had made some sensible suggestions. Their presence also made him feel a little more positive he’d come out of this alive. Assuming their target ever left the fucking bar, of course.

“Try not to let him see your faces,” said Weaver. “Let’s play this as though we’re part of his world. I don’t want him tipping off these fucking Fairies that the cops are onto them.”

“So glad you told us that, we’d never have thought of it otherwise,” said Fa dryly.

“He staying in there all night, you think?” whispered Merida.

“The longer he’s in there, the better for us,” said Fa. “A drunk guy’s easier to knock on his ass.”

“Less easy to get any sense out of, though,” said Weaver. “But you’re right, it’s better for us. If he’s drinking heavily, that means he’s not on call for either of the Fairies. Which means they’re out of town and unlikely to be expecting him to make contact.”

“Which also means they won’t notice if he disappears, right?” said Fa dryly.

“Right.” He hesitated. “Look, I know you didn’t sign up for that. I’m not expecting either of you to do anything illegal or—”

“Would you shut the hell up?” she said, not unkindly. “We’re in this together. Quiet, I think I hear someone.”

They pressed back, Weaver’s palms scraping against the cold bricks, still damp with rain. The door squeaked open, and Arthur Penn stumbled out into the alleyway, belching loudly and staggering two steps before fumbling at his zipper and leaning against the opposite wall. The splash of urine sounded, and Fa caught Weaver’s eye and nodded. Silent as a cat, she drew her gun and slipped up behind the man, pressing the muzzle to the base of his skull.

“Don’t move,” she whispered.

The man reacted quicker than Weaver had thought possible, elbow flying out behind him, but Fa was quicker. She ducked under the blow, punching him hard enough in the lower back to make him groan and twisting his arm up behind him as she shoved his face into the wall. Merida took the other side, and the two of them hauled him further along the alley, out of sight of the door. It was dark this far from the streetlights, and Weaver was counting on that to keep their faces hidden from view.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” bellowed Penn.

“Shut it!” snapped Weaver. “Search him.”

Merida went through his pockets quickly, pulling out a phone which she passed to Fa, a gun, and a large knife, both of which she tossed to Weaver. He stuck the gun in his inside pocket and glanced at Fa, who was flicking at the phone with a thumb. A press of Penn’s finger against the screen unlocked it, and Fa began looking through it with one hand, the other still holding a gun to the man’s side. Weaver took a handful of Penn’s hair and twisted. There was some sort of product on it, oily against his fingers, and he leaned in close, so that he could hear the man’s ragged breathing and smell the sour stench of alcohol and fear.

“Who do you work for?” he asked pleasantly.

“Fuck you!”

“Wrong answer.”

Weaver punched him in the kidneys, and Penn let out a choking cry.

“Look, I’m freelance, okay?” he wheezed. “I’m not working for anyone! Why, you - you want something doing? Someone taking out? I’m your man, if the price is right. Buys my silence, you know?”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” said Weaver. “I was actually hoping you’d spill your guts. Or we could do it in the more literal sense.”

He unsheathed the knife with a satisfying whisper of steel against leather, and pressed the tip of the blade against Penn’s belly, just above his belt. Penn sucked in a breath, his body freezing in place.

“Hey look, I’m - I’m sure we can come to some arrangement here!” he said, his voice grown high with panic. “Prices are - are open to negotiation! Or - or if it’s info you want, just ask!”

“Alright,” said Weaver softly. “What do you know about the Black Fairy? And the Blue Fairy?”

Silence, but for the sound of ragged, terrified breathing. Weaver pressed the point in a little harder, and Penn let out a strangled noise.

“Alright, alright!” he said desperately. “Look, I don’t know much, okay? Up from Vegas, but not wanting to muscle in on anyone’s scene here, so you can take that back to whichever boss you work for! They’re not a threat to anyone’s profit line, okay, and - and neither am I! They just wanted to clear up a little family business!”

“Go on,” said Weaver lazily.

“There’s a girl, a - a young woman calling herself Lacey Weaver, only - only that’s not her real name! Her real name’s Isabelle. Some sort of family connection. She has something the Fairies want. A - a key to something.”

“A key to what?” asked Weaver. “Money? Drugs?”

“I don’t know, honestly! I know she had to get it from a police station, but that's all I know! Could be either!”

“So what about this Lacey, then?” asked Weaver. “What’s your dealings with her?”

“I’m - I’m done with that, I swear!” he stammered. “I had to keep an eye on her, to let her know when she had to meet them, to keep tabs on her progress. Her husband’s a cop, so we had to be careful, but - but it looks like they broke up. Guess it never would have worked, I mean you should have seen her...”

Weaver tightened his grip on Penn’s hair, jaw clenching.

“And where is she now?”

“Hey.”

Fa’s voice made him look around, and he glanced at the phone she was holding up. A message from Lacey, giving what looked like a flight number, along with departure and arrival times. Weaver squinted at it. Boston, not Maine. Interesting.

“So,” he said evenly. “Looks like this Lacey’s getting the hell out of town. Any reason for that? Anything going down here that we should know about?”

“No, I swear it!” protested Penn. “I - I was asked to call someone in Maine to let them know when she lands in Boston, so they can collect her!”

“Who?” demanded Weaver. “He work for these Fairies too?”

“I - I suppose so,” said Penn. “His name's Felix, but I never met the guy, and that's all I know! Whatever business they have, it’s not here!”

Weaver leaned in again, making the knife point dig in, and Penn let out a high-pitched cry.

“You’d better not be lying to me!” he growled.

“It’s the truth, I swear it! I’m - I’m done with the Fairies, and - and as far as I know they’re done with Seattle!”

Weaver nodded grimly, and took a step back, nodding to Fa, who used the butt of her gun to strike a hard blow on the back of Penn’s head. He slumped bonelessly to the ground, and the three glanced around to check they were still undisturbed. Weaver jerked his head towards the mouth of the alleyway.

“We should get out of here,” he said.

“Just a second.”

Fa squatted down next to Penn’s prone body, using his fingertip to open up the phone again. She tossed it to Weaver.

“Here, change it to a PIN,” she said. “Just in case they decide to get in touch with our boy.”

“Good thinking,” he said, and Merida grinned.

“My girlfriend’s fucking brilliant,” she said proudly, and Fa dropped her eyes with a self-conscious smile.

Weaver quickly changed the security settings on the phone to a PIN unlock. He chose Tilly’s birthday for the code, hoping it would be a good luck charm of sorts. The alleyway around them was still quiet, and he nodded to the others.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Looks like I have to catch a flight to Boston.”

“We have to catch a flight to Boston,” corrected Fa, and he sighed.

“No canoodling on the plane,” he growled.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” said Merida, and grasped Fa’s hand as they made their way back to Weaver’s apartment.

#fic: things left unsaid #woven lace fic #woven lace #my fic #rumbelle fic

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littlemarvelfics · 5 years

Text

It’s a Date

Pairing: Mechanic!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: about 1,400

Warnings: none

Square Filled: car broke down

A/N: Yes, I already messed up my proposed schedule. No, none of you should be surprised. I’m staying in the library until I get some of this stuff ready to go! New chapter of Ghost on Saturday, I promise! This is the first thing I’ve written for @marvelfluffbingo ! I’m not sure how I’m gonna work this yet. Either adding these to my masterlist or keeping a different masterlist. Any opinions, let me know! Also I clearly don’t know anything about cars, sorry my pals. Y’all can find my main masterlist here, requests (for writing or tagging) can be sent in here.

“Goddammit,” you muttered, standing over the open hood of your beat up old jeep. Everyone had warned you this would happen. Taking a nearly 15-year-old car across the country on a journey to find yourself was not the best idea. But you wouldn’t be talked out of it. Ever since you had graduated from college, you had felt a little lost. Legally Blonde had not prepared you for this. You did it, you graduated, you had gotten a degree. But what you didn’t have were job offers. No one was hiring, at least not anyone that you wanted to hire you. You understood that you had to pay your dues and you were more than fine with that. But you couldn’t do another unpaid internship. Chasing around CEO’s, grabbing them coffee and kissing ass wasn’t working for you anymore. So you hit the road, responsibilities be damned. You had enough saved up for a few months of wandering. But two weeks into your trip, you found yourself here, in the middle of nowhere.

You knew you would be no help for your car so you pulled out your phone and looked up the nearest mechanic who would hopefully take mercy on you and tow your car for you as well. The first name that popped up was “Barnes Mechanics and Towing”. Clicking the call button, you prayed for someone understand.

“Barnes Mechanics and Towing, how can I help you?” a voice answered.

“Hi! I’m uh… somewhere and my car just stopped in the middle of the road, I was hoping for a tow?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah, of course. Do you have any idea where you are?”

You took a quick look around to try and find any street signs but you came up empty.

“No, I’m sorry. There’s no street signs or anything. But I’m by a lake and I passed a big farmhouse with a huge red barn a few miles back,” you said, hoping he knew the area well enough to find you.

“You’re in luck. I’m pretty sure I know where you are and it’s not too far from the shop. Sit tight, I’ll be there in a few.”

You said your goodbyes and ended the phone call. You spent about 15 minutes pacing back and forth on the side of the dirt road when you finally saw a tow truck come into view. The person driving backed up to your car but left enough space so he could take a look before towing you away. He got out of the car and immediately took your breath away. He was tall and muscular, long brown hair tied into a low bun at the back of his neck. He wore dark jeans and a tight teeshirt, leaving very little to the imagination.

“Hi I’m Bucky,” he said, sticking his hand out for you to shake. “We spoke on the phone?”

“Yeah, of course, I’m Y/N,” you replied, shaking his hand.

“I’m gonna take a look at the car and then we’ll figure out where to go from there, okay?”

“That sounds great, thank you.”

Bucky leaned over the hood of your car, poking and prodding with a concentrated look on his face. A few moments later, he emerged and delivered the news.

“It’s your battery. We might have one at the shop. Is there somewhere I can drop you while we work on it?”

“Um…” you trailed off. You hadn’t been planning on staying in town, you were just passing through. Staying at a hotel wasn’t your best option, you needed to save money where you could but it might be your only option.

Bucky seemed to be able to sense your worry and quickly put your mind at ease.

“I can take you back to the shop with me? There’s a diner across the street and you can hang around while we look into it.”

“That would be great actually,” you replied, relieved.

You watched as Bucky hooked your Jeep up to the back of his truck and secured it. He walked around to the passenger seat of his truck, opening the door and gesturing for you to get in.

The ride over to the shop was mostly silent except for the quiet music playing from the car stereo. Not too long after you started driving, you pulled into a dusty parking lot, a few cars scattered about. Bucky expertly backed the truck into a spot, making it easier to unhook your car.

“So there’s a diner across the street if you wanna grab a coffee or something? Or you're more than welcome to hang out in our waiting room while I look up the part you need.”

“I’ll take my chances in your waiting room," you said with a laugh.

You grabbed your bag out of your car and followed his directions to the waiting room. A beat-up couch and some folding chairs were around the room and a radio tuned to an oldies station was playing in the background. You settled into the couch and grabbed a magazine from one the tables, flipping through it absentmindedly. It wasn't long before Bucky walked in and cleared his throat to get your attention.

“You’re all set-”

“Wait really?” You asked, interrupting him.

“Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “We had the part so I went ahead and replaced it.”

“Awesome! How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m sorry what? I may not know much about cars but I do know that car parts aren't free.”

“Woah woah. One of the guys that works here, Sam, he's an idiot. He ordered too many parts. Consider it my good deed of the day,” he said.

“Well thank you, Bucky,” you replied. “Are you sure I can’t pay you or something?”

“Maybe a cup of coffee?” He replied with a shy smile.

You looked at the clock on your phone.

“I would love to but I should really get back on the road. I’m sor-”

“No apologies necessary. Just an offer,” he said, cutting you off.

He handed you your keys with a smile.

“It was nice meeting you Y/N.”

“It was nice meeting you too Bucky.”

As the weeks went by, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the man who had fixed your car. The way his shirt clung to him in the summer heat or the lopsided smiles he had given you. The day after you left, you regretted not getting coffee with him. Wasn’t that the whole point of this trip? To have new experiences? Coffee with a beautiful stranger was certainly a new experience. After a few more weeks of aimless driving, you decided to turn back around and head towards home. You hadn't found a bright neon sign telling you what to do with your life but you were running low on cash. While you were driving through the town where your car broke down, you couldn't help but turn into the parking lot of Barnes Mechanics and Towing.

You hopped out the car and poked your head into the waiting room. You saw Bucky talking to a customer, he looked just as beautiful as you remembered. After waiting for him to finish talking to the customer you marched up to him.

“I don’t know why I’m here. I was passing back through and-”

You stopped talking when you took in his confused expression.

“Oh god, you don't even remember me, do you? This is mortifying. I’m gonna go bury myself alive.”

You turned to walk away when Bucky grabbed your wrist.

“Of course I remember you. Y/N, with the dead battery and the beautiful smile. I’m just surprised to see you.”

“That’s fair,” you responded with a laugh. “And if a year ago I heard myself saying this, I would kick my own ass. But I can’t stop thinking about you. I don't know if I believe in fate or divine intervention but it seems like maybe it was fate that my car stopped in the middle of the road where it did and you were the one to pick me up. I don't know what the hell I’m doing with my life but I do know that right here, right now there's a beautiful man standing in front of me and I’d really like to buy him a cup of coffee. What do you say?”

“I say it’s a date,” he replied with a grin.

Everything Tags: @sea040561@jamesbarnesappreciationsociety@quotemeow@janeyboo@randomparanoid @hauanjsdbkss @titty-teetee

Bucky Tags: None yet

#marvelfluffbingo2019 #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes writing #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel oneshot #marvel imagine #mechanic!bucky #mechanic!bucky barnes

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guileheroine · 5 years

Text

red vines (chapter 1)

Adora's life is finally beginning to fall into place, but the snare of a fraught friendship keeps pulling her backwards. Catradora coming of age/high school AU / 1.5k / ao3

Read 16:15.

Adora blinks, her mouth thin and expressionless, eyes boring into the little grey word in the corner of the screen. Over the way too many minutes since last Saturday that she has spent staring at it to absolutely no avail, it's drawn from her frowns and pouts and scowls plenty and, yeah, maybe not a few frustrated tears.

It's Friday now and she no longer has the energy for any of that, but she still can't stop looking. Trying to will it to life, as if she wouldn't be alerted as soon as there was anything worth looking at.

The bus arrives. She clicks her phone off and pockets it quickly, sticking her thumb in her belt loop to suppress the instantaneous urge to reach again.

She has other things to think about. Practice, and what would be an appropriate thing to bring to the sleepover at Glimmer’s tonight - she should bring something, right? - and the science homework that probably needs to be figured out before she leaves. (It requires a little more… imagination than what she's used to, and actually, now she figures she’ll probably ask one of the girls for help over the weekend.)

Once Adora has sat down, she can't not draw out her phone again. The Princess Group Chat - unimaginatively named because Bow and Glimmer wouldn’t quit changing it back and forth, until Mermista seized their admin powers without warning and locked it - is blowing out silent red notifications like a little bubble machine. Adora watches them without opening the chat, content with the weirdly warm knowledge that she would be welcome to.

She knows that Catra definitely has nothing like that.

And immediately, she feels awful for knowing it.

Her wrist loosens and the phone falls into the dip between her thighs. She glances straight ahead out of the window, at the blur of trees and houses. It's neither sunny nor cloudy out - the perfect balance, in her opinion. The steady rumble of engine, the rhythm of the journey, lulls her deeper into her mind.

So she and Catra haven't really been on speaking terms since she transferred to Brightmoon. Well, Catra isn't speaking to Adora .

The blunt sadness seeps slowly through her chest the way it does each time she confronts the thought headlong - it surprises her, though it really shouldn't at this point. Adora’s fingers itch. She clasps the cool handrail and squeezes.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Catra had shown up on her doorstep after the first week of school, arms crossed tight, eyes narrowed. A sunny September morning.

“I told you,” Adora answered, though she didn’t repeat what that answer was, and its absence hung in the air as she stood back and munched on her granola bar. She’d sent a clipped sort of text a couple of weeks before: Btw yeah I’m probably going to Brightmoon next semester - and on the few occasions they had hung out in the intervening days, neither had brought it up. Frequently, the sudden remembrance was a gut punch, meaning that she had ignored the inevitability hard enough to convince even herself.

Adora was in denial that Catra was denial.

And if she had thought that Catra was peeved before.

Catra’s eyes had slitted dangerously as she stood before her and put her hands on her hips. “Uh, wait, did you tell me? Adora?!”

Adora met her eyes squarely, suppressing the guilt that welled up in her stomach. “I’m going to Brightmoon this year. Mom and Dad agreed it was for the best. I needed a fresh start and you know how the team’s been getting to me, I haven’t been myself at Horde…I told you, I did tell you.” She began evenly, but by the end she was placatory - pleading in a way she did not want Catra to see her be.

Catra looked contemplative for the briefest moment, and then, like she had only been humoring her, her frown returned with a vengeance. Adora could barely look at her. She picked uneasily at the cuff of her shorts. The air was stifling.

“So you’re abandoning me?” Catra demanded finally, and pulled the door shut in her own face before Adora had a chance to answer.

In the wake of the deafening slam, Adora didn’t know whether to feel distraught or relieved.

She hadn’t been thinking of Catra, was the honest, uncomfortable truth. She had been thinking of all the wretched hours just withering in class at Horde High, of the dread that loomed on her once-eager walk to soccer practice, the dirty looks fielded her way from classmates and teammates alike when they thought she couldn’t see. At the end of the semester she had gone straight to Principal Hordak with her polite but frank speech planned out.

Catra is nothing if not scrappy. She’ll survive just fine without her. It’s not like they’ll never see each other (or she had hoped.) It’s not like they weren’t friends before either of them ever joined the team, or came to Horde.

Adora sighs aloud. She pushes her knees together to prevent her phone from slipping out between them, but she doesn't pick it up again, heart heavy as she returns to her mind's recesses after the brief interruption.

Coach Weaver hadn’t been happy when she told her, after her final practice. In fact, it would probably be an understatement to say she was unhappy with Adora’s “drastic, don’t you think?” decision. Instead of the sympathetic disappointment she might have expected to receive from any other teacher, she had responded to Adora’s announcement with a curt “I see” - but Adora could feel the heat of the resentment blistering behind her sharp eyes, her talon-like nails practically puncturing the ratty glove in her hand.

She'd slinked out of the changing rooms just as Catra strode in, but Catra didn’t comment on Adora’s slump if she had noticed it. Catra chose not to notice anything contrary to her desires.

Anyway, from day one, Brightmoon Academy had been a whirlwind. Having promised herself a break from soccer, however temporary, Adora had tried out for the cheer squad. She can still see the stars in Glimmer’s eyes as she bowed out of her final somersault. Life with the Princesses of Power is a dream: she had learnt no sooner than she’d smoothed the gold shoulders of her new uniform that this squad was a squad, as Bow had enthused, practically yelling his welcome as he slung his arm around Adora’s shoulders. Some of the seniors on the team weren’t quite as excitable, but it was wonderfully clear - from all the plastic bottles of homemade punch Perfuma brought everyone, from the speedy attention with which Netossa stitched up any loose seams in their uniforms - that they were equally devoted to their squad-squad.

Adora had been swept away. Junior year had outshone the rest in less than a week. The first few weeks of school had put everything not-Brightmoon from her thoughts - between the overwhelming tide of eager new friends, stimulating classes, intriguing extracurriculars, there was just no space for anything else when she felt like her mind was expanding in real time just to contain all the novelties.

Anything except Catra, that is.

The regret had been gnawing at Adora somewhat surreptitiously, catching her unawares, deflating her at the most unexpected moments. She was on air and then suddenly she wasn’t. Finally, at the park last weekend, she had hung back from Glimmer and Bow while they huddled around Perfuma’s pet frog, and pulled out her phone to text Catra.

Hey. Can we talk?

Read in a matter of minutes.

Catra, seriously. You cant just ignore me. Please please let’s talk

Read immediately, before her eyes.

But it's been a week and they definitely aren't talking.

A new slew of notifications lights her phone up. She shifts her thigh to turn it face up, reading each text from the lock screen before it's displaced by the next.

Spinnerella: WE’RE MAKING COOKIES <3

For tonight

･ﾟ*✧･ glimmer ✧･ﾟ*: mom says pick up milk, i’m telling you guys so you dont forget to remind me

mermz: milk and cookies, what are we, 4?

[bow emoji]: we are young adults who know hw

the JOY of milks and cookies

･ﾟ*✧･ glimmer ✧･ﾟ*: its FOR MOM

[bow emoji]: sure sure so is perfuma's weed

･ﾟ*✧･ glimmer ✧･ﾟ*: uh that's *her* mom's weed

Tonight, practice is at some old warehouse place that Entrapta has managed keys to from her parents, since all the rooms at school were booked up. They're meeting at her place. As the bus approaches the stop, Adora finally picks her phone back up.

She pulls tight on her ponytail, on the straps of her new backpack, and hops off.

#catradora #catradora fanfic #**#she ra #spop

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singtheskyandfightlikehell · 5 years

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Eurovision 2019 Opinions

Well, the 26 countries that will be participating in the final are official now, so here’s my in depth thoughts about each entry, ranked from least favorite to favorite along with explanations and a 10 pt rating system. honestly i thought this year was solidly mediocre. a few i really like, about 3 i can’t stand, and the rest are all smack dab in the middle of “decent”. of course, these are just my opinions and I totally get that people will disagree with them. i don’t really care. yeah there’s a few i’ll judge you for, but frankly my opinion shouldn’t matter to you. i’m just posting it for my own record and for anyone who might be curious

26. Slovenia (0/10) I know a lot of people like this entry, but frankly, I cannot stand it. It’s boring. It’s awkward. It’s uncomfortable. If I wanted to watch an m/f couple - or, you know what, any couple - stand really close to each other and mumble for three minutes, I - I don’t actually know where I’d go, because I can’t conceptualize myself ever wanting to see that.

25. Denmark (0/10) Again, why? This entry annoys me a lot, and the only reason I didn’t put it last was because I appreciate the use of more than one language. It’s my least favorite parts of all kids shows combined coupled with a message that honestly I disagree with. It feels a bit like she’s judging me for being upset at injustice in the world when I should just shut up and be happy about what I have. I’m sorry, but I don’t believe it’s acceptable to ignore atrocities just because my life is filled with good things. I could imagine this song being the welcoming number in a musical staged in one of those “everything is perfect on the outside but inside it’s the creepiest shit you’ve ever seen” towns that’s used to hypnotize the protagonist into not noticing the creepy shit

24. Estonia (1/10) I don’t honestly dislike this song, but it does bore me. He’s a mediocre singer with a mediocre song. Also I can’t get past the fact that he rhymes “this” with “this”. It distracts me and ruins the whole thing.

23. Czech Republic (2/10) I really didn’t like this one at first. It was irritating and the lyrics were weird. However, I surprisingly enjoyed the live performance. The lead singer has some charisma on stage. Good for him.

22. San Marino (3/10) No idea how he got to the final (I know it’s bc he’s a meme, but still), but I don’t hate the song. I don’t think it should win, but honestly, I think it’s fun. His voice is ridiculous, but I can stand it for three minutes.

21. UK (4/10) I definitely feel like this is the kind of generic song I’ve heard many times before, but he does a good job with it, and ultimately it’s alright. His hair makes me think of Finn Shelby from Peaky Blinders, but that’s neither here nor there.

20. North Macedonia (4/10) Honestly, I feel like I should like this song more than I do. She has a good voice, and the song has a good message. Unfortunately, it’s just never clicked with me, and I often find myself tuning out while listening to it.

19. Israel (5/10) I like his voice. He sells the emotion. Not a gripping song, by any means, but not bad. Some of the rhymes feel a little forced, like the lyrics were written specifically so that they would rhyme, rather than because they have meaning.

18. Germany (5/10) This one gets stuck in my head sometimes, but I’m okay with that. Tbh, I quite like it. Plus, the whole “sisters (but I’d say girls in general) are taught to tear each other down but need to build each other up instead” theme is one I wholeheartedly support. I spent too many years hating everything associated with girls because society told me to.

17. Malta (5/10) I go back and forth on this one a lot. Parts of it I like, parts of it I don’t. It feels a bit different to me, but not like, in a revolutionary way. The singer is strong, and it definitely gets the award for most colorful performance, literally!

16. Serbia (5/10) I feel like I’ve heard this entry before, too, but specifically at Eurovision. Still, she does a good job with it, and I like her armor-inspired jewelry. Plus, it’s not in English!

15. Belarus (5/10) Another one I go back and forth on. I find this is very good study music - energetic and repetitive enough not to be distracting. I don’t love it (I’m even hesitant to say I like it lmao), but people really ought to stop hating on her so much. She’s sixteen. Let her have her fun.

14. Albania (6/10) I really liked Albania’s entry this year tbh. I didn’t feel she sang as strong in the semi-final as she did in the music video, but otherwise I thought it was a very powerful song. The staging was pretty cool, too!

13. Azerbaijan (6/10) I loved everything about this except the refrain. The “shut up about it” bit starts to get on my nerves by about the second refrain. But the verses sounded cool and the staging was awesome!

12. Sweden (6/10) Not the most exciting song in the world, but he sounds good, the ladies sound great, and there’s nothing I dislike about the song or staging.

11. Cyprus (6/10) Not as good as the music video, sadly, but still catchy and fun. I didn’t really like it the first time I heard it, but it’s grown on me since. I felt bad for her being put on the spot with that one “are you mad about Cyprus losing last year” question.

10. Greece (6/10) Definitely grew on me. I tuned out of it the first time I heard it. Prior to the semi finals I thought it was alright. But she really gave us the lesbian dream, huh? Ladies with neat clothes and swords, plus a garden? What more can you ask for lmao

9. France (7/10) Feels kinda standard to me, but not in the worst way possible. Sometimes I get really into it, other times it’s just a nice song. I’ve been liking it a little bit more each time I hear it, though.

8. Netherlands (7/10) The favorite to win, and I’d be okay if it did. Not my favorite this year, but a solidly good song. I have to be in the right mood to want to listen to it, but when I am? Fucking amazing. Also, considering he never left the piano (and didn’t light it on fire), he gave a pretty good performance.

7. Spain (8/10) This song is so much fun, and it’s definitely going to end the competition on a high note. I’m also really curious to see the full version to know more about the life-size dollhouse and animatronic thing they’ve got going

6. Switzerland (8/10) I loved the music video more than the live performance, but regardless I thought this song was also really fun and, idk, snazzy? Love dancing to it while I fold laundry.

5. Australia (9/10) Australia’s staging was everything! I had them in the upper middle rankings until the semi-final, but honestly that looked cool as all fuck!! Her song is weird, but in a way that I can dig. Plus seeing her soar around like Glinda in space with two fellow witches is one of the highlights of Eurovision this year

4. Russia (10/10) Sergey is back and just like in 2016, I absolutely love him and his performance. I’ll admit, the shower thing was a bit weird, but the song sounded great live! Plus, he had a leg-up for me by going with fairy tale imagery in the music video.

3. Norway (10/10) Initially, I only liked the joiking. The other two singers have grown on me, though. This song is fun, the staging is cool, the singers are great, and then it gets quiet and the joik part comes in, and it’s so fucking cool!! Love it, love it, love it!

2. Italy (10/10) My favorite for a long time, only bumped out because I made the fortuitous mistake of watching Iceland’s interviews. I love the song. I love the message. The thing that impressed me most, though, was that this song is about something that isn’t even remotely close to anything that’s happened in my life. I do not relate to it at all. But despite having no personal connection to the topic, I could feel the emotion in it. For a brief three minutes, I could feel something that isn’t my reality but is the reality of many other people. And an artist who can do that is powerful indeed.

1. Iceland (10/10) If you couldn’t tell from the everything about my blog, I have firmly joined the camp of Hatari stans. It may surprise you, but I didn’t really like this song the first time I heard it. Then, I found out the meaning behind it and gave it another chance. Lo and behold, I liked it! It rose in my rankings from lower-middle to the number one spot between listening to it multiple times and watching all the Hatari content I could get my hands on. I totally understand the music being too far for some people, but as a metalhead during the not-Eurovision parts of the year, Hatari isn’t too far of a leap for me. I love the song. I love the staging. I love the costumes. I love the message. I love the band. I love how they interact with each other and everyone else. I love the bits on Iceland Music News. I love their trolling and sarcasm in the interviews. I love the anti-capitalism. I love their websites (seriously, check them out. they put a lot of effort into them). I love the way they approach issues that are important to them. I love the fact that they aren’t afraid of the tough subjects. I especially love that they aren’t trying to walk the popularity line (you see it all the time - for example, queerbaiting, where a tv show wants to appeal to all sides of an issue, so they make characters nearly lgbtqia+ but then throw in enough straightness to please conservatives). Hatari picks their side in each issue instead of trying to cater to everyone, and I respect that a lot. My reactions and emotions aren’t usually prominent or even necessarily visible, but there’s a chance I might actually cheer if they win.

Finally, the honorable mentions, aka countries that didn’t make it to the final but that I would’ve loved to see:

Hungary (in my original top 10) - loved him last time, loved him this time. Beautiful song, beautiful voice, beautiful staging

Georgia - my hopes weren’t high but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love it. There’s nothing quite like a good dramatic song, and this was as dramatic as they come

Portugal/Poland - the two most people were really miffed about in the first semi-final; I think they’d’ve been alright in the semi-final, but both depend entirely on my mood. sometimes I love, sometimes I hate

Croatia - the song was ‘meh’, the singer was fantastic, and the staging was Eurovision in all the right ways

Armenia - one of my early favorites. could’ve used some other people on stage, but otherwise I thought she did wonderfully

Romania - what can I say that hasn’t been said already? she brought everything! that was an experience and an amazing one at that. so disappointed she didn’t make it

and of course,

Ukraine - catchy, badass, wacky, and wlw? sign me the fuck up. So sad to hear what happened to her. I know people are saying this is why politics should be kept out of music, but that’s ridiculous. The real issue is when the issue/message isn’t coming from the artist. It should always be up to the artist’s discretion what they do or do not promote. Propaganda and censorship go hand in hand, which is why I am so bothered by the blanket statements I hear thrown around about Ukraine’s fiasco this year

And that’s all! I think I’ll be happy with anyone scoring a 7 or higher for me winning on Saturday. I wouldn’t be upset about a 6 winning either, I suppose.

Anyways, off to bed so I can make my snacks tomorrow lmao!

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marvel-obsessed-mind · 7 years

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The Little Thief

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader. It’s pretty platonic, but you can interpret it how ever you like.

Word Count: 1,345

Warnings: Language.

Summary: Someone decides to take your car for a joyride. and it turns out you know the little thief.

Requested: Um... Yes? I dunno, @turtlepowersactivated reblogged this prompt list talking about number 10 and thought I’d write it for them anyway?

A/N: Guys, I think I’m ill. I’m posting anouither fic withing like 30 hours of posting part 2 of New rules. Never done that before. Lol, enjoy this piece of work. I’m gonna go work on some requests now. I’m finally gettin’ to it!

After waiting for Peter to get back from whatever it was he needed to do for an hour, you get up and collect your books, making you way out of the library and to your car. Quickly making your way to your car, ready to relax at your place, you don’t notice anything amiss until you get to the spot you parked.

Where. The fUCK. Is my car. You look around, livid over the fact that some fucking stole your car when you spot the familiar shape of it a few parking spaces over. Your eyes widen in surprise and you make a mad dash for it. Eyes running over the exterior for anything unusual, happy that you don’t see anything major wrong with it, and you quickly make your way to the driver’s side and unlock your door. You dive in the second you get the door open to see if anything was stolen and see a note taped to the steering wheel.

Sorry for borrowing your car, I had to use it real quick. There’s no damage, and I promise nothing was stolen – your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man

More like friendly neighborhood jackass.

You take another, closer, look at the note, feeling like there was something familiar about it. After wracking your brain for an answer, you have a ridiculous thought. Is that Peter’s handwriting?

You set your backpack on your lap, opening it up to look for something that had Peter’s handwriting on it, knowing you had something with his handwriting in there. Letting out a shout of triumph, you take out an English paper of Peter’s that you had to go through for grammatical mistakes with him today and compare his handwriting with Spider-Man’s note.

After flipping back and forth between the two, you slowly lift your head and stare out the window; feeling like this was the last puzzle piece as everything clicked into place.

That little shit!

You shook your head in disbelief as you tried to comprehend the fact that your best friend was Spider-Man. It took you a minute to realize how long Spider-Man had been around, but when you did, you stomach dropped. Oh mY gOD. He became Spider-Man when he was fifteen!

You were going to have a serious talk with your friend, Peter Parker, when you saw him next.

A couple hours had passed since you found out Pete was Spider-Man and you spent those two hours thinking about everything Peter had gone through, finally stopping when the jerk decided to call you. After jumping from the sudden noise of your phone ringing, you picked it up, already knowing who it was.

“Hello, Peter. I hope you’re okay. I only waited for an hour and a half for you to at least text me, but it’s fine,” You say, voice layered with sarcasm. Of course, you now know why he had to, but were unable to not give him shit for it.

“Uh, yeah, I’m really sorry about that, Y/N. Something urgent came up. Listen, I was wondering if I could come by your place in like 20 minutes? I thought we could hangout since I had to cut our study session short earlier.”

“Have at it, dude, you know I have nothing else planned. I cannot wait to tell you what happened to me after you left.” Chuckling, you head to the kitchen to see if there’s anything good to eat in the kitchen.

“Oh, what happened? Are you okay?” Peter demands, thinking that something bad happened to you after you left.

“Pssh, I’m fine! I’ll tell you all the juicy details when you get here. Bye!” You hear Peter start to say something, but hang up, smirking, and set your phone down to look through your fridge. After a minute of searching, you grab some food and head to the couch, settling down with a sigh, and turn on the tv to find something you and Peter would want to watch while you wait for him to get to your place.

20 minutes later you’ve eaten your food and are dividing your attention between the screen and your phone, when you hear a knock at your door. You get up and open the door and find Peter lightly hoping from foot to foot with a worried expression.

“Hey, Peter! C’mon in you dork.” You slide to the side and smile at him as he walks in. You’ve barely closed the door when you feel a tug on your shirt. You glance over and raise an eyebrow at Peter, waiting for him to ask you a question.

“What happened?” He asks, nervously biting his lip. Your heart goes soft at the look he’s giving you and you can’t help but smile tenderly at him. You grab his hand and gently squeeze it before walking to the kitchen once again to get some water for the both of you. The innocence in that question both confused and amused you. Did he not realize you’d be upset, well amused now, about the car? You watched Peter’s expressions from the corner of your eye as you started talking, hoping his reactions would further prove your theory.

“Well, I had just gathered all my books and everything and headed to my car to head home, you know, as you do, but ended up having a heart attack because my car was not in the spot I parked it.” You weren’t disappointed. The second you mentioned your car Peter’s face went pale with panic.

You turn and fill the cups up with water as you continue telling your story.

“But, it’s okay!! After looking around the parking lot in disbelief for a few minutes, I realized my car was only a few parking spaces away from me! Which, thank God. My parents would’ve killed me. Anyway,” You say, turning towards his very fake nonchalant self, handing him his water, “So I get to my car, unlock it, and what do I see? A note from a very famous dude. Spider-Man, in fact. You know him, right?” You smirk, fighting to hold back laughter, as you watch Peter scramble for an answer. You don’t give him time, though, going for the final part that’ll blow his cover.

“You know, there was one thing dear old Spider-Man forgot to check. You see, it’s awesome that he left a note- I’m not sure why he’d take a car when he can swing from his webs- that’s just my opinion- but Spider-Man probably forgets from time to time that people can recognize things that they’ve continuously seen for, oh, I don’t know, a few years?” You stare at Peter with a shit eating grin, “And Peter, I recognized the handwriting. You might wanna look into printing them out? So people don’t recognize the handwriting?”

Peter stands there, eyes wide with shock, as he processes what you just said. It takes him a minute, but he shakes it off, already admitting defeat.

“You caught me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was Spider-Man, but I wanted-”

You stop the start of what you know would be a rambling mess by putting your cup on the counter and placing your hands on his shoulders, “Peter, it’s fine! I’m not mad. Well, I mean I was a bit miffed you didn’t tell me at first, but I’ve thought about it the entire two hours of knowing, and have come to realize you probably did it to protect me. Which is sweet as hell by the way.” Smiling softly at Peter, watching him slightly nod his head, showing that he understood, you wait until Peter’s body had lost some of the tension before dropping your hands.

“You want to go sit on the couch and see what’s on tv?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Peter nods and takes a sip of water, following you to the living room.

After about 30 minutes of watching some tv show you hear Peter ask:

“So…. Where do you think I could get notes like that printed?”

Tag List: @15-shades-of-fangirl @onceuponateenpanwolfian @thatspiderbaby @captaincalliemae @trickyholland @baka-chanismyname @digicharr @mamanewta5 @artsysad @babyfairybaekhyun @o-brienwrites @cubedtriangle @kawaiianime03

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!!!

#peter parker fic #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #spiderman x reader #spiderman oneshot #spiderman imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #marvel oneshot #marvel imagine

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happy2bmyownboss · 5 years

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I had to do my grocery shopping this past weekend and our internet was DOWN! This meant that I needed to physically go into the store and push the buggy down the aisles… pure TORTURE, right? Well, maybe it doesn’t seem that bad but I have been spoiled by the Walmart Grocery Pickup.

I did survive and I posted a picture of my overflowing buggy on my Instagram that evening and had a contest for the person who could most closely guess how much I spent. The winner will be receiving a Walmart eGift card for $10.00!

Before we go any further I will let you know that this post does contain affiliate links to products and/or services that we use. If you happen to click through a link and make a purchase we may earn a teensy-weensy small commission (at NO EXTRA cost to you) if a purchase is made through these links. These links help to support our family, our blog, and our homeschooling mission. This means that we can keep bringing you great recipes, ideas, and tips for FREE! Click HERE for a full disclaimer.

I did spend quite a bit more than usual as I had some freezer cooking on the schedule. My grand total ended up being $330.46! I did have to grab a couple more things on Sunday morning when I went out to grab the pizza for Ms. Bellas’s birthday party. There was no freezer cooking happening on Sunday as we spent the day celebrating with family.

Thank you, Aunt J, for the red velvet cake and the pizza! It was delicious!

Here was the plan for Monday:

My notes are a little crazy I know!

I still have a couple of meals in the fridge from the Holiday Meal Planning Made Easy With The Deck The Freezer Party! but I really wanted to get some more ready because I know things gave a tendency to get REALLY BUSY around the holidays. I think they may get even busier with our new house coming SOON and I don’t want to be stuck in the kitchen when I can be playing around with decorating our new home.

We are still adjusting to the time change around here so the past week or so has been even CRAZIER than normal. I’ve really had to work on some of the parenting techniques that I’ve been learning from Positive Parenting Solutions which have been a lifesaver during some of our roughest parenting days.

Loaded Breakfast Biscuits

The little boys wanted to help with the breakfast meals I was working on. They washed their hands and got ready to work:

It is always important to check the oven before turning it on to preheat!

I had completely forgotten that we had a stack of pizzas in there from the day before!

The first recipe we made was the loaded breakfast biscuits from over at Jamerrill’s Large Family Table. I had purchased some of her freezer bundles a while back and have tried quite a few of her recipes. Many of the recipes I have cut in half as I wanted to give them a test run first.

While I prepped the ingredients the boys worked on smushing the biscuits into the muffin pans.

I improvised and made a little bit of space on the top of some of the totes we had in the kitchen.

The assembly went rather quickly and I did some laundry as they baked. They looked amazing when they came out of the oven! Just make sure to press down the ingredients well with a spoon to get them filled.

We ended up with about 30 biscuits and some leftover sausage gravy which will be enough for five meals, six if you count the gravy. We will probably have some fruit, yogurt, or applesauce with these.

Baked Oatmeal Muffins

Next on our list was to make a BIG batch of Baked Oatmeal Applesauce Muffins.

I’m not really sure how the cheese got in the picture but we didn’t use it for the muffins. Our Kitchen Aid mixer came in really handy while making all of these meals but it could have been just a little bit BIGGER as I had to keep the guard on to prevent messes.

These smelled AMAZING while they were baking and we ended up having 42 of these yummy muffins which will be enough for about 7 breakfasts or snacks. We will probably have some fruit and/or yogurt with the muffins.

While they baked I was able to get another load of laundry swapped and hung out to dry.

Freezer PB & Js

These are very simple to make and very nice to have in the freezer for busy days. The key to not having soggy sandwiches is to make sure you spread the peanut butter thinly on both slices of bread.

You can microwave the peanut butter for a few seconds to make it easier to spread. We’ve also found that the jams spread easier than jellies.

We ended up with about 40 PB&Js and a couple of PB only sandwiches as I have one who doesn’t like PB& J. This will make at least 4 lunches which will be great for busy days or for outings. The kids usually have some fruit with their sandwiches at lunchtime.

I keep a bag in the freezer for the bread heels and leftovers so I can use them for croutons and/or crumbs.

Ham & Cheese Potato Bake

I got this recipe from one of the packs I bought from Jamerrill’s Large Family Table Sale as well but it tasted very similar to my Cheese Potatoes only with the addition of the cubed ham.

I added the leftover hashbrowns from the loaded breakfast biscuits to this as well. I probably could have used a little more ham and maybe a little less cheese. We made 3 of these pans but ate one for dinner that night. IT WAS DELICIOUS!

We will most likely eat this with some kind of veggie side dish.

While making all of these meals I was also running back and forth doing up my laundry as Monday is Mommy’s Laundry Day. I also had to keep chasing down my camera as Mr. Jacob was practicing his photography skills:

Yeah, he still needs a little practice but he kept getting better as the day went on.

Freezer Meatloaf

I needed to get some ground beef and chicken cooking so I worked on the meatloaf while this was going. I threw in a package of finely chopped mushrooms with the ground beef while it was cooking… Shhhh! Don’t tell the kids!

I made up a batch of Manly Meatloaf and divided it into 2 loaves to put in the freezer. I used some mix veggies and chopped mushrooms in it this time. These will make 2 meals plus leftover that we can eat for another meal.

We will eat these with a side of Super Yummy Caulitaters and some kind of veggie side dish.

Chicken Broccoli Alfredo

This is another one of Jamerrill’s recipes. It was super easy to make and looks so good!

I shredded the cooked chicken with the Kitchen Aid mixer. I then combined the rest of the ingredients together in the foil pans and may or may not have gone a little crazy with the cheese. We ended up with 2 pans of this which will be at least two meals with leftovers. These will probably be served with some green beans, a Salad and/or Quick & Easy Garlic Bread or Garlic Cheesy Bread.

Mr. Jacob had to check out all the yummy dishes:

Beef Stroganoff

This recipe was fairly easy to make. I threw the brown rice in the pressure cooker with the broth from the chicken that I had cooked earlier which made it really tasty.

I’m not sure what happened to the photo of this meal but we had 2 pans of this which will definitely be 2+ meals. We will definitely be serving these with some kind of bread and side dish.

My photographer in training did catch a few other photos during the time this was cooking:

I think he may be better with my new camera than I am!

Baked Ziti

I still had a pile of ground beef left so I made up a mega batch of Mama’s Secret Spaghetti Sauce. Other than that I pretty much stuck to Jamerrill’s recipe for the baked ziti which actually looked a lot like my recipe for Red & White Pasta only with meat in it.

By this time I was running a little low on cheese but I will add more to the pans before I bake them. We will serve these two meals with a nice helping of veggies or a Salad and/or Quick & Easy Garlic Bread or Garlic Cheesy Bread.

Here are a few more photos I found on the camera around the time I was making these:

Stuffed Shells

I’ve seen a couple of videos where Jamerrill makes her freezer meals and the stuffed shells looked like something I really wanted to try so I did!

It was a little tricky to get the hang of stuffing the shells but it went rather quickly once I got in the groove. I then added some diced tomatoes to the remaining spaghetti sauce that I had and divided it up between the pans being careful not to fill them too full because I needed a little room for some cheese, right?

I sprinkled them with some Parmesan and the rest of the shredded cheese I had on hand. I will add some more cheese before I bake them. These will be another 2+ meals when we have some hearty sides with them. I can’t wait to give them a try!

Garlic Bread

While everyone was eating dinner I pushed and finished up the last couple of items on my list. The Garlic Bread is super easy to make… so easy that the kids can do it.

We may end up adding a bit of cheese to these before we bake them to make them cheesy garlic bread.

Freezer Ham & Cheese Sandwiches

We haven’t tried the Freezer Ham & Cheese yet but I did see a video a while back about making them. They said the key to keeping the bread from getting soggy was to put cheese on both sides… that’s a lot of cheese!

We used up some cheese we had in the fridge and ended up with 16 sandwiches that will be enough for at least 2 lunches when they eat it with some fruit or veggies.

English Muffin Pizzas

Last but not least was one of the kids’ favorite meals… I thought I had posted this recipe before but maybe not. It’s super easy.

We took the English Muffins and cut them in halves. Then we spread some of the leftover spaghetti sauce on them and topped them with a little bit of cheese. (I was out of shredded cheese so I just sliced up some block mozzarella that I had in the fridge.) We then topped them with a few pepperonis.

I then put them on a large baking sheet and placed them in the freezer to flash freeze. Once frozen they will get wrapped with a little bit of wax paper and then put into baggies for the freezer. They will get baked at 350 for 10-15 minutes until hot and bubbly.

The kids love to eat these for lunch with some ranch drizzled on top.

Finishing Up

My feet were so tired last night and I was wishing that we had our new bathtub installed so that I could soak but hopefully, soon that will be a reality. I almost forgot that I also made up a cute little gift for Nanny J as it was her birthday as well:

I still have about 4 pounds of ground beef to cook and put in the freezer. I’ll try to get to that tomorrow. The cooked meat will be used to pull together some quick meals like Taco Ring, Sloppy Joes (I thought I had that recipe posted… I’ll have to look for it.), or another meal from this list HERE. I’m going to try to get a few batches of Buttermilk Biscuits in the freezer as they are great for a quick side or as a quick breakfast with some gravy, honey, or a bit of jelly.

I still have a few of the pans in the fridge outside as well because they needed to cool down and I didn’t get around to rearranging the freezers to make room today… internet issues have had me on the phone with customer service for several hours!

We’ve got quite a busy week ahead of us with hunting season starting (maybe it has already started) the guys are itching to get out in the woods. Our van needs to go have an oil change and brakes this week. We also have a couple of dentist appointments this week and we also need to take out the toilet and work on it as someone flushed part of a hanger down it… sigh. Friday night will be a dance and Saturday we had planned to go to a BIG annual dance but I’m not really sure if that will be happening or not… if it doesn’t I may have a Norwex event to go help with and I will have the kiddos in tow!

Here’s a flyer for our latest sale:

I definitely have a few things that I want to grab while they are on sale! You can also shop my current part HERE.

I know this was a long post but I wanted to get all the recipes out as I’ve had several requests for them. If I missed anything you can let me know in the comments below!

Here are just a few more pics from the day:

35+ Freezer Meals In One Day! I had to do my grocery shopping this past weekend and our internet was DOWN! This meant that I needed to physically go into the store and push the buggy down the aisles...

#norwex #norwexclean #norwexconsultant #norwexmovement #birthdays #busy schedules #food #freezer cooking #meals #recipes #square dance

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