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randomwriteronline · 2 years

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"You should put on weight, beloved," Gaeric said suddenly. "There's signs this winter will be a rather rough one."

The other warden hummed and mumbled, half asleep and snuggled with his cheek thoroughly smooshed against his lover's vast chest: "I am not fat."

"I know, and that's what worries me," Gaeric replied gently. His fingers went to comb through white hair and gently massage at the nape of the man in his hold: "Bibarel fur linings can only do so much - you need some natural layers against the chill or you'll freeze yourself to death."

At that Ingo furrowed his brows and cracked open an eye to better process what he was hearing, because something didn't seem quite right.

"Oh," he exclaimed lazily after a moment of buffering: "You said I should gain weight. Not lose it."

Gaeric pulled himself a little away and looked at him like he was out of his mind.

"In this weather?" he asked, horrified.

Ingo made a quiet noise and pressed a chaste kiss to his neck.

"I wouldn't tell you to lose weight if I was sentencing you to death! Not even the Diamond Clan would - is it a thing in your homeland? Do people not value a good layer of fat against the cold?"

Now that Ingo thought about it, as muscular as they were, Gaeric and Irida did have a discreet amount of fluff on their limbs and stomach to hide them - carefully built through the years with what supplies the Icelands provided, while Palina was losing a bit of it now that she had mostly moved to the Coastlands, Lian was still balancing the distribution, and he himself had remained 'unreasonably lean' according to Calaba.

"I believe they do not," he agreed absentmindedly, leaning back into his beloved's embrace: "The only person to ever tell me to gain weight has been my..."

He interrupted himself, brows furrowing slightly as the fuzziest hint of a memory struggled to resurface: "My... Father... I believe. I think I had not... Been fed enough. Before he came around."

Ah, Gaeric reflected, a chosen father probably, like with him and Irida.

Either way he nodded approvingly and nuzzled a kiss on white hair: "He gets it. A good father-in-law with a good set of priorities. I would have loved to meet him."

Me too, Ingo thought to himself. "I have a feeling he would have liked you."

"Gaeric has said I should gain weight," Ingo started as he carefully folded his coat.

"Then you should," Melli simply replied.

He felt the other warden turn to look at him with that stinging surprised gaze of his and faced him, head sinking into his shoulders.

"What?" he asked, stoking the hearth a bit as the night promised to be anything but warm. "I don't like to admit it, but he knows his stuff when it comes to these things. The first time Sabi went to the Icelands he sent her back to us chubbier than a Croagunk's cheeks - and with Calaba in tow to lecture us with his exact words, she said, that we were fools for sending a scrawny child like that over with just some furs on her!"

He watched as Ingo debated wether or not to keep his tunic on, and shed his own.

"You aren't quite fat, though," he heard him say while he busied himself with pulling the garment over his head.

"I come from the South of Hisui too," he argued back, "And even then I've got plenty of things to keep me warm when I'm here in the mountains - you, for one."

"I an not sure my body heat alone would be sufficient to stave off a harsh season."

"Oh, you're no Skuntank, that's for sure, but you do try."

"Alas, I do not have fur."

Hair fully shaken out of the fabric, Melli turned back to the bed, where a lump was already under the covers; with incredible swiftness he snuck over and pressed his mouth to his darling's cheek.

"Maybe if you did have a bit more meat on you, you'd be a little warmer," he posited, slipping under the blankets and wrapping his long arms around the slightly stouter frame as he spooned him.

Soon enough he let out a soft groan into Ingo's nape: "Or at least your awfully sharp bones wouldn't stab my stomach as often..."

A laugh shook the back of the Pearl warden: "This is my hut, you know," he reminded him, shifting to get an arm around him, "I could leave you outside if I so decided."

"You won't," Melli replied flatly.

He was right, of course. But admitting his victory would have made him gloat incessantly about being right, so all he got was a kiss on his lips - which was in fact the same thing, but in this case he very gladly remained quiet if it meant he would get a couple more.

And because his lover was terribly soft about these things, he would get quite a lot.

#pokémon #pokemon legends arceus #warden gaeric #submas ingo #warden melli #highlandsshipping #snowmobileshipping #random writing #more of 'ingo and his two boyfriends' now with: Fat Positivity (I Hope)#i do think that pearl clan ppl do need to be chunkier bc of. you know. The Weather #lian palina and calaba can slimmen a bit bc theyre in warmer climates most of the time but everybody else chonks up #diamond clan lads are a bit slimmer but still! they gotta have a bit of fat. hisui is cold #ingo coming from the future: mmm im gaining pounds. this probably isnt good #everybody else: no???? its great????? youre so thin the first gust of wind will kill you. Eat.

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deadlytales · 5 years

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The Day I Didn’t Get on the Bus

(Credit to Jaksim, via Reddit)

I rode the bus to school from the time I was in kindergarten until I was 16 and started driving myself to school. The one exception to that was a month when I was nine years old in which my mother drove me instead. That month began on November 3rd, 2003. After November 3rd, the school didn’t have a bus to drive us to school in. More importantly, they didn’t have a driver.

Up until November 3rd, our school owned only one school bus – it was your traditional number-2-pencil-yellow bus that seated 36 screaming elementary school kids. The bus picked my older brother and me up every morning from our neighborhood bus stop, which was about a block away from our house. I could just barely see my house from where we would stand when we waited for the bus. Nobody got picked up at our bus stop except for my brother and I, but the bus came by anyway.

I don’t remember riding on the school bus very well, but I remember my elementary school bus driver. His name was Thomas Blackford. Nobody called him that though. Everybody called him “Mr. Tom”. Mr. Tom was a big, fat man with a great grey beard and a bald head. He had one of those comfortable smiles that you’d expect Santa Claus to have. He always played the radio stations that we liked and on the last day of school he gave everyone who rode the bus a bag of candy to take home. Everybody who rode the bus loved Mr. Tom.

I guess I should tell you now, Mr. Tom is dead. He died in 2003. He was murdered. I don’t know exactly when he was killed, but it was sometime in early November. This is the story of November 3rd – The day I didn’t get on the bus.

I was in second grade. Because the 3rd was a Monday, my brother and I hadn’t ridden on the bus since the Friday before. It started like any Monday morning. That is, it started with my mom banging on the door to the bedroom that my brother and I shared and yelling “If you don’t get out of bed in the next five minutes, you’re going to miss the bus! And there’s no way I’m driving you to school!”It gets pretty cold here in November, so my brother, Bryan, and I had no intention of trying to walk to school. I slipped out from between my covers, groaning as I went. I got dressed and brushed my teeth. It was cold that day. I remember shivering as I slipped my blue down coat on over my shoulders. I always hated waiting for the school bus when it was cold out. Especially if it had been snowing.

Unfortunately for me, not only had it been snowing all morning, it was still snowing. There was about 3 inches of wet, slushy snow covering the street in front of my house, and more on the way. The second I opened the door so Bryan and I could leave, I was struck by a gust of frigid wind that blew wet, stinging snow into my eyes. I was already shaking by the time I stepped outside. Like I said, you could see the bus stop from my house, it was only about a block away. But in that weather, that block felt like it could have been a mile.

Before I could suggest to my brother that we shouldn’t wait for the bus in such conditions, my mother yelled “Close that door, you’re letting the cold air in!”

I didn’t grow up in the kind of house where you argued with a comment like that. Bryan quickly shut the door behind him, pulled his hat down over his ears, and trudged past me, through the dirty snow that lined the sidewalk. I followed Bryan, who was grumbling quietly under his breath.

The school bus usually arrived sometime around 8:30. When Bryan and I got to the bus stop, it must have been a little before that, based on what I remember. Sometimes the bus got to our stop a minute or two late, so we weren’t surprised to have to wait a few extra minutes. Looking back now, everything would have been different if it wasn’t snowing. My brother and I shook in the freezing snow and waited for the bus to pull around the corner at the intersection to the south of us.

At around 8:35, I could feel my toes growing numb - my teeth were audibly chattering. I wondered if we had already missed the bus. I didn’t wear a watch then, I was too young, but Bryan had a cheap, old timex watch that mom had gotten him.

“Bryan did we get here late?”

“No. The bus is just running a little late.”

I frowned. Bryan was not a morning person.

“Are you sure? I don’t think Mr. Tom has been this late before.”

“Yes. I’m sure. Be quiet.”

My hands were beginning to lock up from the cold. I could feel the joints in my fingers turn stiff and tired. Despite my down coat, I was shaking all over my body.

That’s why I felt so relieved when I saw our school bus as it turned the corner at the bottom of our street, and slowed as it pulled towards us. I was finally going to be in the heated bus where my frozen body could thaw. I couldn’t wait for Mr. Tom to open the door and greet us with a hardy “Good Morning” and a warm grin.

But when the door opened, there was no warm grin. There was no Mr. Tom. When the door to our bus opened, I didn’t see the husky frame sitting behind the wheel of the bus that I expected. I saw a small, thin man sitting on the seat. He had the bus driver’s uniform on him, but it didn’t fit quite right. It looked too big, like he was completely engulfed by it. His hair was thinning and covered in grease and dirt, not shiny and smooth like Mr. Tom’s bare head.

The driver’s smile filled his whole face. His teeth were yellowed and his gums brown and black. The most striking thing I remember about his face, however, was his eyes. They were huge, and his pupils were dilated so large that they almost completely covered the irises of his eyes.

“Where’s Mr. Tom?” I asked hesitantly, as I climbed onto the first step leading up to the bus.

“He… called in sick today.” The man spoke softly and with a disconnected rhythm. It sounded like he was straining to produce the words. I looked past him, and saw that there were only a few children sitting in their seats on the bus. Only three or four. Usually the bus was almost full by the time it got to our stop.

“Where is everybody, mister?” I was getting nervous, but the bus was so warm that I was drawn towards it. Bryan, who was standing behind me on the sidewalk complained loudly.

“Will you just get on? It’s cold out here.”

“Well mister, where is everyone?”

“Not… sure. Guess they… must be… sick.” His smile slowly faded and his lips curled into a cartoonish frown. “Better get on… I… think we’re… a little late.”

I was still nervous, but I was only nine - young enough not to question something that an adult had told me. I put my foot on the second step of the bus and started to move forward. The bus driver’s dopey frown transformed into that sick smile almost instantly as I started to move forward. I was only a few feet from him when I felt a strong hand grab my shoulder from behind.

I was pulled back to the sidewalk by a tall woman in a bathrobe. Before I could protest or try to resist, I realized it was my mother. She had her arms wrapped around Bryan and I, and she was pulling us away from the bus.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Bryan asked, as she pulled him and me closer to her.

“Who are you?” She stammered at the driver.

The driver’s face quickly melted back into a frown and his giant eyes narrowed. He didn’t say anything to her.

“What do you think you’re doing? Who are you?” My mom insisted. Her voice was shrill and full of confusion.

The driver didn’t reply. Instead, the same horrible smile from before spread back over his face. He pulled the lever that closes the door, and stepped on the gas. The bus moved forward quickly, and made a sharp right turn at the end of our block. My brother, mother, and I stood in the snow, shivering, watching the bus slide slightly as it careened around the corner. Before we could ask any questions, my mother pulled my brother and I back to the house. She was frantic. Her skin looked pale, especially in her dark purple bathrobe. She looked nervous, almost scared. She just kept saying-

“Hurry up. Get inside.” She herded Bryan and I inside and sat us down at the dining room table. “Stay here” She warned.

Bryan and I were confused, and our mother’s visible fear had made me scared as well. All sorts of thoughts ran through my head – maybe grandpa had another heart attack, or maybe Bryan and I had gotten in trouble for something. Why else would Mom walk all the way out to the bus stop and stop us from getting on the bus?

Bryan and I listened as she called the school district from the kitchen. I could just barely make out what she was saying.

“The bus was definitely out there! No, it wasn’t the usual driver!” She listened intently to whoever was on the other side of the line. After a moment, she said “Okay I will”.

She hung up the phone and began to dial another number.

“What’s going on?” Bryan asked.

“Not now Bryan. I need to talk to the police.”

Our mom stayed on the line with the cops for almost 20 minutes. Bryan and I looked at each other in silence as our mom told the officer on the phone about the man we saw driving the bus.

I would learn several days later that while my mom was talking on the phone, the new bus driver picked up five more children. The bus, which had eight total children on it, all between the ages of seven and twelve, would abandon its normal route at 8:52, after its 12th scheduled stop, and drive onto local highway 78. The driver would accelerate to over 100 miles per hour, according to eyewitness reports. The bus would begin violently weaving in and out of its lane, coming close to hitting several different vehicles who would later call 911 to report its erratic behavior.

At approximately 9:17, despite the desperate pleas of the crying children aboard the bus, it would drive onto the only bridge in Gilliman County. It would cross about half of the bridge, according to the bridge’s caretaker, Kris Lopez. Mr. Lopez would later tell reporters that the bus made a violent right turn at the center of the bridge. He would explain that he could see the terrified face of a little girl screaming from one of the windows as the bus broke through a metal guard rail and fell into the icy river.

The official police report would state that all nine bodies were found. Dead. The bus had crashed through the ice at the top of the river and floated approximately a mile before it became stuck on a patch of rocks and a downed tree. All of the occupants of the bus had intense bruising, blood loss, and broken bones.

The police officer who went to the home of Thomas Blackford to ask him about the incident would find his door unlocked and the inside of his home completely trashed. When looking in his bedroom, they would find his corpse horribly mutilated. The Giliman County Coroner would tell reporters that Mr. Tom was most likely murdered by an intruder while he slept. The cops would find that his bus driver’s uniform and keys to the bus had been stolen.

This is all the information I’ve been able to find about the day that I almost got on that bus. There’s probably a lot more information out there about November 3rd, but I imagine a lot of it hasn’t been released to the public. I’ve read almost every newspaper story, eyewitness report, and police document that I could bring myself to. None of it has answered the question that I can’t seem to stop asking myself.

Why wasn’t I on that bus? I had been a step away from joining the kill count of the horrible little man who murdered Mr. Tom and those eight children. I was so close to dying in that crash. I still wake up in the middle of the night, imagining that little girl’s crying face as the fender struck the ice, going god knows how fast. I can’t stop imagining the driver’s disgusting smile as he drove the bus off that bridge. My survival haunts me. Why wasn’t I on the bus?

The closest thing I have to an answer to that question was what my mother told us when she got off the phone with the officer that morning, on November 3rd.

I asked her- “Mom, why’d you stop us from getting on the bus?”

Tears started filling her eyes as she told Bryan and me the truth.

“The school called. Today is a Snow Day. The bus shouldn’t have been running at all.”

#creepypasta #creepypastas #death and murder #Reddit stories #the unknown

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