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finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

Can we get some more brother!harry?

I really enjoyed your piece where he caught her smoking ❤️

of course you can!! (rip if your name is natalia) hope this is what you wanted;

Natalia.

Beautiful name to juxtapose a horrible excuse of a human being.

Harry was never that great when it came to choosing his girlfriends, but this one was by far the worst. Bekka had been bad, because she had been cheating on Harry with her best friends dad. India was just so toxic, to the point where she’d ask Harry why he wasn’t mad with her over the most trivial things as if she wanted him to be mad. Daya was ok, but she wanted different things to what Harry wanted and so they ended up in a massive argument and ending things quicker than they started. Natalia though, wow. She was something else and that wasn’t a compliment.

You don’t know whether it was just because she targeted you especially, but she was just a downright cruel person. You could easily tell her intentions with your brother were not good. She was a plain ol’ gold digger, evident from the credit card that Harry leant her and she spent so much on it the bank had to call Harry to ask him to authorise that he was aware of the amount of money being spent. She bought a car with his card. A fucking car. Harry was too blinded by her beauty and her experience that he was oblivious to her witchy behaviour towards you. It wasn��t like you hadn’t tried to tell him either, it was more that he didn’t care enough.

“No Harry. No.” You argued with him, standing in the middle of the kitchen as he was busy washing the rest of the dishes in the sink. It was just the two of you home at the moment, because Gemma and Anne were spending the weekend at an exclusive spa in Cheshire, so you didn’t understand how there were so many dishes.

“Y/N, it’s not an option. You’re not staying at home by yourself.” Harry spoke sternly back to you, letting out his frustration by vigorously scrubbing the dishes.

“I’m literally 17 - 18 in like 3 weeks. I’m more than capable of staying home.” You stomped your foot to the ground like a child.

“And I don’t care. You’re coming to lunch whether you want to or not.” Harry finished the last plate and dries his hands on the towel next to the sink, before throwing it over to you.

“But she’ll be there.”

“She’s my girlfriend, so you’ll nice to her.”

“If she’s nice to me, then yeah.” You rolled your eyes and walked over to the sink to start drying the dishes that Harry just cleaned.

“ Y/N, I swear to God.” Harry groaned in frustration, tugging a stressful hand through his hair. “Can you at least pretend to be happy for me for once?”

“Gee Harry, i’m just so happy to be going out to lunch with you and your girlfriend!” You put on the biggest grin as your sarcasm practically dripped from your tongue.

“Stop being a spoilt little shit and finish those dishes. We’re leaving in 20.” Harry spoke harshly, before leaving the room with a heavy strop to his step. It left you to blink back the tears that you couldn’t help that Natalia was ruining your whole relationship with your brother.

You and Harry used to be so tight nit, now it would be a miracle if he spent a day with you per month. Natalia had come along 5 months ago and she had completely turned Harry’s life around for the worst, only Harry was too ignorant to see that. Anne had come home multiple times to find you crying because Harry had cancelled on you, again, or Natalia had said something that had really hurt. Normally you were okay with taking hate, but Natalia made it somehow worse than that. Even if Anne or Gemma tried to talk Harry about the damage all this was causing you it would always be the same response;

“She just wants attention.”

The restaurant was very pretty.

It was one that you and Harry used to go to all the time, when there was no girlfriend around. It sold the best pastries and life-changing eggs on toast. The food was always delicious and the staff were so completely lovely. You were glad to be coming here, making you feel more comfortable than you would if you went to a expensive fancy restaurant instead. This little restaurant, named ‘Lemon Puffs’ after their infamous lemon, cream and pastry puffs, made you feel safe and happy.

“Remember to just be nice.” Harry spoke as you both approached the table that Natalia was already sat at. She was too busy on her phone to realise you were even here.

“If she plays nice then yeah.” You bit back.

“Y/N just stop being petty, y’pissing me off now.” Harry argued. “Whine like a bitch later. I don’t need it today.”

You stopped talking after that, not having anything else to say to him. He’d made it very clear that you were only here because he didn’t trust you at home by yourself, but by the same token wanted you quiet because he didn’t trust you enough to speak nicely. Harry hugged and kissed Natalia like he hadn’t just seen her last night and then sat down opposite to her, leaving you to sit next to Harry because you sure as hell weren’t sitting next to her. Natalia didn’t even make the effort to hug you or shake hands, in fact you barely got a simple hello.

“You alright, baby?” Natalia asked, twirling her hand into Harry’s from across the table. Disgusting.

“Yeah i’m good. This one’s a pain in my arse, as always.” Even with his joking tone, you knew he was being somewhat serious and that really messed with you.

“Typical.” Natalia rolled her eyes and tutted her tongue, not hesitating to use the opportunity to be mean to you. Harry thought she was merely playing along with his words, but you new otherwise.

“You know what you want yet?” Harry asked as he pulled his own attention towards the menu. You didn’t need to look at the menu, as being here so many times has allowed you to discover the perfect order.

“I think i’m just going to get the salad, but without the chicken, cheese or cucumber.” She answered, sipping on the water she must’ve already ordered whilst waiting for you both.

“So just lettuce?” You asked, not meaning for it to be a condescending question and yet she took it that way anyways.

“Is there something wrong with that, Y/N?” She asked, being really harsh in the way she spoke your name - as if the syllables actually caused her pain to speak.

“N-no I was just—”

“Didn’t think so.” She snapped and turned away from you to look back towards Harry, with her shit-eating grin that didn’t fool you. Harry kicked you leg under the table too, not appreciating the way you were speaking to Natalia. He didn’t even think about the way his girlfriend was speaking to you though. As usual.

“I’ll probably get the salad too.” Harry nodded his head and you shook your head as he spoke. Harry would never normally get a salad. Like, that’s so Kardashian of him. Harry, whenever he came here with you, always ordered a cheese and pickle panini, with extra crunchy pickles, a portion of chips and some halloumi fries too. Oh and then a cake for pudding. He wouldn’t have gone for a boring salad. Fucking Natalia was ruining him and you hated to have a front row seat of it.

“Not the usual then?” You tried to joke with him, but he was clearly still pissed off with you for being… you.

“Why, are you?” He asked quizzically.

“Obviously.” You smiled, which made Harry smile for a split second before Natalia pulled him away from you. Your smile disappeared and a frown settled in, knowing it would stay there for a long time.

“Babe, I am here too you know?” Natalia joked, bur you could see the anger and jealousy behind her eyes. If looked could kill you’d be ten feet under, twenty times over by now.

“Sorry, yeah.” Harry cleared his throat and paid closer attention to her.

Lunch went by slowly.

Natalia scoffed when she heard your order; poached eggs on toast with three pieces of crispy bacon on the side, a portion of chips and a mint iced tea. Oh and a cake for pudding, but you’d come to that later. Natalia ate her lettuce as Harry eat his salad as you ate your eggs on toast with bacon and chips. You loved the food, hated the company and couldn’t make up your mind whether you loved or hated being here. Natalia and Harry talked throughout lunch, leaving you out of all their conversations. The only time Harry spoke to you was when he asked whether your food was okay, eyeing it up as if he wanted to make love to it and send his salad to the nearest dumpster.

“Was everything alright for you?” Paul, the owner of the business and dude in charge of the eggs asked you when all your plates were empty as Harry’s growling stomach.

“Lovely, thank you.” Harry responded gratefully.

“Perfect.” You smiled as you handed your dirty plate to Paul.

“It was a bit plain.” Natalia moved her plate away from her in disgust and Paul put on his best customer smile, apologising for that before leaving to go and ring up the bill.

“Okay i’m just going to go for a quick wee before I pay.” Harry announced, getting up from the table to go to the loo.

“Okay babe. Don’t be too long.” She called out and then it was left just you and her.

“Well this was nice.” You tried to be nice, as Harry told you to, and start a meant conversation with your arch enemy. Kill ‘em with kindness - that was Harry’s slogan wasn’t it?

“If you hadn’t have been here then yeah.” She turned her nose up at you.

“Look,” you began, wanting her to understand something, “whatever i’ve done to upset you and make you hate me, i’m sorry. Just, I don’t want you to dislike me and I know that Harry really likes you so I want us to be able to get along.”

“Listen, Y/N,” there it was again - your name spoken with dripping venom, “I don’t want to get along with you. You make me sick. You are such a baby to Harry and you’re needy, which means I don’t get to spend time with my boyfriend—”

“Don’t get to spend time with him?” You had to laugh at that. Apart from today, you’d seen Harry maybe a total of 2 hours this whole week and it was Saturday. “You’re practically attached at the hip.”

“Not enough. Harry needs to keep away from you, you only bring him trouble.”

“I’m his fucking sister.” You shouted quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace for the rest of the customers.

“Not an excuse. Look Y/N, I understand that you are quite lonely and don’t have many friends? Maybe you should consider that’s for a very good reason?” She rhetorically asked you and that made you sit back a bit. She was pulling apart your insecurities now and exposing them to find the most painful parts, so she could watch you suffer with only the curse of her words.

“It’s not like that.” You tried to convince yourself more than her, tears in your eyes over something so hurtful to you.

“No? ‘Cause I think that you aren’t the kind of person anyone wants around, including Harry.” She stood up dusted herself off as he noticed Harry walk back over to the table, smiling as if she hadn’t just shot his sister in the heart.

Her words stung more than a scorpions tale, and yes unfortunately you knew what that felt like. Natalia was right. You were alone, friendless and just trouble. There was a reason that you were all of this and Natalia had hit the nail right on the head with the reason why. You thought of your friends, his they always disappeared and left you and now you sit in the canteen alone or hang out only with yourself on the weekends. You think to Gemma and Anne going away for the weekend, not inviting you because it was age restrictive but you still couldn’t help but think there was a more pressing reason than that. Then you think of Harry and how he was fed up of you. He couldn’t be more resentful of you if he tried. You wanted to be a good friend, a good daughter and most importantly a good sister, but it was so blindingly obvious that you weren’t. You were never going to be.

You stood up from the table too, quickly wiping away a tear from your face before anyone could notice but you didn’t care to see if anyone was actually watching. Harry kissed Natalia and then walked over to the cashier to pay the bill. You noticed Paul and Harry talking and so you walked out of the restaurant and towards the car, still tears in your eyes. You needed to be strong for yourself though, especially because nobody else was going to be.

You stood with you handle to the door of the car waited for Harry to come and unlock it. You heard high heels before the car was unlocked, unfortunately.

“Excuse me, but I ride front.” Natalia spat at you, removing your hand from the door and chivvying you to the back of the car instead.

“You’re coming with us?” You asked, your heart aching that little bit more. You didn’t want to spend another minute in her presence and yet she would now probably spend the rest of the week until your mum and sister came back.

“Ye—”

“No she’s not.” Harry walked out of the restaurant and over to the car, standing in between the both of you but a little more towards you.

“Babe? What do you mean?” Natalia asked, a little bit shocked at his tone with her.

“Firstly dont babe me. Secondly, get your hand off my car. Thirdly, don’t ever come near me or my sister ever again.” Harry ordered angrily. You’d never seen him this angry before. You stood behind him, afraid of what was about to go down.

“What has she said to you, because—”

“She’s my sister and she’s got a name. Y/N didn’t tell me anything. Lemon Puffs, however, has eyes and ears everywhere and it’s amazing the stories you hear when you’re stood at the cashier or next to someone at the urinals.” Harry accused Natalia and she went hot red in the face, embarrassed that this conversation was actually happening.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? Maybe this will jog your memory. ‘I think you aren’t the kind of person anyone wants around, including Harry.’” Harry raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest confrontationally. Guarding and protecting you. You felt safe.

“Wha— You think I would say that?” Natalia asked, pretending to be offended by the accusation.

“I don’t know, let’s ask Y/N shall we? Y/N, did Natalia say that to you?” Harry asked, turning to look at you with hope in his eyes, but also sorriness for everything that’s happened. You could see it all behind his eyes and you wanted to squeeze him tight to accept his apology, because you loved him and you needed him.

“Y-yes.” You answered, looking down so you didn’t have to make eye contact with Natalia.

“Harry you can’t possibly believe her.” Natalia laughed, but there was heavy insecurity in her tone.

“I trust her more than anyone. More than you. I trust Y/N with my life.” Harry back answered, taking no more bullshit from his ex-girlfriend. “We’re done Natalia. Okay? I don’t want to see you ever again. What you’ve said and done to my sister is unforgivable and I don’t want someone like you in my life.”

“You were a dick too.” You added quietly behind him and he just turned round to smile and wink at you.

“So what? That’s it?” Natalia asked, dumbfounded.

“Bye Natalia.” Harry walked around to the drivers seat and you to the passenger side. He stopped before opening the door though, wanting to say one last thing. “The bill was split in half by the way. Paul’s just inside waiting for you to pay.”

With that, you both got in the car, laughing at Natalia’s reaction and just everything. Apologises were made and promises of no relationships until you two had built back up yours were sworn. It would take time, but Harry was willing to prove that he was a good brother and you were always going to be someone he wanted around.

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

Traffic Lights Are Burnin’

[Read on AO3]

Written in honor of @nebluus‘s birthday! She asked for some WFB, and of the options I gave she chose the next part of our Six Flags saga...only the beginning scene of that chapter ended up ballooning out into this so...it ended up being less Amusement Park Shenanigans and more Wholesome Boys Will Be Boys Content. I’M SURE MADI WILL BE JUST FINE WITH THAT TOO 😂

“Are you making an omelette?”

English is not, functionally, Mitsuhide’s first language. Not that he thinks of it like that-- first or second, third or fourth; there’s no ranking in his life, no moment in which one language followed another. There was English with Mama and quebecois with Papa; a plan quickly scuttled by Mitsuhide being the fifth Lowen sibling. Refusing to be pigeonholed into a single language no matter how many times Mama repeated consistency is key, his brothers mostly spoke a tossed salad of both and assumed he’d understand the lettuce.

Coupled with the fact that all his cousins lived in Toronto anyway, Mitsuhide had hardly begun talking himself before it became outside quebecois and inside English. Unless they left the province, in which case it was a free-for-all that left his few monolingual aunts and uncles dizzy.

Which is to say, Mitsuhide only becomes aware of the precise inner ranking of his languages in moments like this, where gut immediately kicks out a dry ‘j’essaie.’ The translation is vetoed on the grounds that although in quebecois he’s never met a word he couldn’t steep in sarcasm and smuggle in a sacre, he prefers to keep his English so clean it squeaks.

You’ve got it all backwards, Kihal had told him as he sweltered under the San Juan sun, English is fake, you can be as much of an asshole as you want it in, it doesn’t count.

It’s true, there’s something that’s more real to him in French, that’s more real about him, but, well-- there were far fewer cousins to tattle on his potty mouth this way. And now that he knows Obi...

Well, if Kiki ever made good on her threats to teach him any of his “church swears,” he’d probably never sleep easy again. So instead, he scrolls through his mental rolodex of possible appropriate replies before settling on, “Would you like one?”

Zen glances up from his array of pamphlets, glossy paper glaring beneath the overhead lamp. It matches the way Zen is looking at him. “We don’t have time for that.”

Mitsuhide frowns, giving his eggs one last vigorous whisk before pouring them into the pan. “There’s always time for breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

He glances over just in time to see Zen’s grimace. “Shirayuki really could be your sister.”

There’s really no reason he has to look so horrified by the idea. His brothers may all be broad shouldered, barrel-chested giants, but plenty of his cousins made pocket money in high school through catalogue modeling. And they’re all very nice girls.

He doesn’t mention it. A conversation never ends well if you have to whip out photos of female relatives to prove your point. “Would you like one?” he repeats instead, a safer tactic overall.

Zen’s nose wrinkles beneath some dubiously drawn eyebrows. “Are you putting spinach in there?”

“Kale,” he agrees. “And chicken.”

“In a breakfast omelette?” He clucks his tongue, just the way the Wisteria’s chef would when he attempted to cook at the estate. Quel dommage, he would say, sighing over the cutting board, why would you do that to perfectly good eggs? “Why would you do that?”

Because these muscles don’t come cheap; Mitsuhide chokes down a truly staggering amount of chicken in order to keep them. Roasted, of course-- boiled is technically better for protein, but even he has to draw the line somewhere. The eggs have less, but they are calorie efficient; he’d eat more of them if he could stomach the slimy, snake-like sensation of swallowing them down hard boiled.

But explaining his diet regime usually ended with glazed eyes, so he settles for, “I could always put something different in yours. There’s ham.”

Fancy ham, Obi calls it. It’s just from the deli counter, fresh sliced from whatever quality cut’s on sale, but considering how the first time Obi saw a charcuterie board, he shouted, Oh, Lunchables!--

Well, Mitsuhide can accept that maybe they have different benchmarks for fancy. And somehow just the simple act of calling it that does make it taste better. Or at least more satisfying when it’s shoved between a Hawaiian roll and deli cheese.

There’s a soft shuffle by the kitchen door, and a wild thatch of bristle peeps around the frame. Mitsuhide shakes his head with huff. That’s a new one-- just think the devil’s name and he appears.

Obi lopes into the kitchen, all long limbs and smooth movements, blurring right into the background without any effort at all. He’d gotten Mitsuhide a few times when he’d first moved in, popping up wherever it was sure to be the most inconvenient, grinning like a cat with feathers in its teeth. But once you knew the trick of it, well-- it’s no effort to keep the kid in his sights.

Which is why he has a full, uninterrupted view when Obi slips right up to Zen’s elbow, and asks, “Whatcha doing, chief?”

“Wah!” Pamphlets fly up, a glittering flock of wings swooping beneath the lamp. Zen slaps them down before they can skitter off the table’s edge. “Obi! Make noise for fuck’s sake!”

“Sorry,” he sing-songs, not a sincere note in it. Two long fingers pluck a pamphlet off the wood, twisting it between them. “What’s all this? They starting to put theme parks on exams now?”

“No.” Zen scowls, snatching it out of his hands. “I’m just making today’s itinerary.”

Mitsuhide slides his omelette onto a plate, turning just in time to catch the glance Obi sends him. It somehow says is he fucking with me while also implying I’ll hold him down if we gotta send him to the doctor. “An itinerary?”

He leans a hip against the island, fishing out a fork. What was it Obi always said? Dinner tastes better with a show. Time to find out whether it extends to breakfast too.

Zen fixes Obi with a look that could have had trenches with all its affront. “You can’t go to an amusement park without a plan. How else do you get on all the coasters?”

“It’s only Six Flags New England.” A week ago, the name alone made Obi flee like a cat from a bath, but now every syllable drips with derision, like a sommelier reviewing boxed wine. “They’ve got what? Superman?”

Mitsuhide shoves a corner of his omelette in his mouth. It’s not as good as a sausage, mushroom, and cheese, but, well, it’ll do. “Bizarro.”

“Bizarro.” Obi scoffs. “See? Nothing. Besides, I thought you were the kind of guy to spring for fast passes, boss.”

Zen’s always been sensitive; the sort of kid who tended to pop off when a situation came to a simmer instead of trying to turn down the heat. When Izana had been sitting president, he’s spent half his tenure fielding tense calls, sometimes even climbing into a towncar at a moment’s notice to be taken back east. The school, he’s always say, lifting a shoulder, my brother is proving to be a challenge, and my mother is...unreachable.

He’d thought this Zen kid must be like the ones he knew on the ice, punching first and asking questions later, complaining about being put in the box. All temper and no temperance, Mama used to say when she drove him home, can’t talk when you got plastic between your teeth.

But then he’d met him, undersized and stick-limbed, living in that house with people paid to be invisible. A kid with too much on his shoulders and too many eyes to watch him stumble under it. He’s come a long way from there.

So when Zen squirms in his chair, red already starting to lick up his neck, Mitsuhide doesn’t enjoy it. On the contrary, Zen’s discomfort is his discomfort, a failure of him to keep the watchful eye on him that Izana asked him to.

But it also doesn’t stop him from adding, “Shirayuki believes that waiting in line is part of the amusement park experience.”

Obi looks as though he’s just been told it’s his birthday and Christmas, all rolled into one. “Of course she does.” His mouth sharpens to a wicked grin. “So you’ll be lowering yourself to the peasant’s lines today, huh, Your Highness?”

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, swatting him away. “No one’s being lowered anywhere. We won’t be running into any of them so long as we get there early and hit the coasters in the right order.”

Obi coughs. Or at least, makes it sound like he is. “Uh-huh.”

“Where is Shirayuki anyway?” Zen glares at the empty doorway, brows heaving like thunderclouds over the bridge of his nose. “I thought you said you’d get her.”

“I did.” Obi twitches his shoulders; as good as a shrug, from him. “She’s getting ready.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes.” Zen’s glare changes target to him, thunder rolling in the tone of his voice. “Shirayuki doesn’t take this long to get ready.”

When Mitsuhide glances up, chewing around another stab of egg, kale, and chicken, Obi’s eyebrows are already there to meet him. His head tilts, just the barest degree; this is your show, big guy.

Mitsuhide coughs, trying to clear his throat of leaf bits. “Girls,” he starts, the ground sinking beneath him with each word, “like to look nice. Especially when they are on, uh, dates.”

“This isn’t a date,” Zen informs him, more than a little put out. “Obi’s going.”

The sound Obi makes can only be termed as distressed. “I didn’t want to.”

For exactly this reason, is what he doesn’t say. Doesn’t even show it on his face, though it has to be lurking beneath it, considering how he--

Well, considering nothing Mitsuhide knows for sure. But certainly a few things he reasonably suspects.

“Chief.” Obi flips the chair next to him, straddling it. “You know, I really thought it couldn’t be true. I really wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. But to hear you now--” he leans in, one narrow brow raising the same time his voice drops-- “you really do chicken out when it comes to getting chummy with Doc.”

Mitsuhide nearly chokes on his chicken.

Zen’s red all over, like someone pulled him from a boiling pot and put him on a plate. “You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do,” he says, so easy. “Doc told me.”

“She said that?” His skin’s so flushed Mitsuhide’s half afraid he’ll pass out, but instead he just collapses against the ladderback, head buried in his arms. “Shirayuki?”

“Pretty much.” Obi sighs, hands braced on the table. “I mean, is it so hard to say she looks nice when she dresses up? Or that you like her hair, or--” he stumbles, shaking his head-- “no, not the hair. Too loaded. But you know, one of her floaty little numbers. Her freckles. Something.”

“I have!”

Obi lifts a dubiously narrow eyebrow. “Like when?”

“Ah...” Whatever the answer is, it’s not helping his blood flow problem. Mitsuhide nearly opens his mouth, searching for a good way to make himself a target-- “The Big E.”

Well, there goes that plan.

Obi’s inquisition crumples into confusion. “What? When did you--”

Every word ekes into the air with the utmost resistance. “When she was wearing your hoodie.”

“When she was wearing my--?” Gold eyes round to coins. “Chief.”

For a solid minute, that’s the only reaction-- wide-eyed disbelief, earned from two sides. But Obi coughs, mouth twitching, and it’s a snort, a smirk, and--

And then Obi launches himself away from the table, both hands still gripping the edge as he falls apart utterly. The chair’s back keeps him from putting his head between his knees, but spiritually he’s there, tears tracking down his cheeks as his laughs wheeze out of him

One hand finally slaps the table, like he’s asking for a time out. Zen frowns down at him, red finally fading to a painful pink. “It’s not that funny.”

“It is,” Obi squeaks, and Mitsuhide has to shove his last bite of omelette into his mouth to stifle his own noises. It’s no good-- Zen whips around and gives him the same glare he’s been saving for Obi.

“If you don’t cut it out,” he says loftily, “I’m going to let a freshman stay in your room.”

Well, that brings Obi up. “Fine,” he coughs, voice still ragged from laughing. “But still. My hoodie.”

“The sleeves hung over her hands! It was cute.” Zen huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “Fine, if I’m so bad, why don’t you two show me how it’s done?”

There’s a pause, long and loaded; enough that Mitsuhide glances up from his plate to see just what tomfoolery he should brace himself to break up--

Only to find Zen staring at him.

Intellectually, Mitsuhide is aware that Zen is a Wisteria. He met him through Izana, after all; he’s been over to the manor, he’s even met their prodigal mother on one of her rare stopovers between vacations. But when he thinks of the name, it’s Izana who springs to mind, the gears churning behind his eyes.

It’s not often that Zen reminds him of his brother; Cookie’s always said that Izana takes after their mother with that long and lean model build, while Zen has always been Kain’s child. But now, now--

He sees it, and it sends a shiver right through him.

With a quirk of his lips, Zen says, so like Izana that if he closed his eyes he wouldn’t know any different, “You first, Mitsuhide.”

Obi’s mouth curves into a leer. “Yeah, Big Guy. Show us the skills that got you Ms Kiki.”

This probably isn’t the time to tell them that it wasn’t him who got her; Mitsuhide hadn’t been trying to do anything more than be the friend she needed, to be a person she could confide in, could trust. People like that were thin on the ground for girls like her; heiress tended to make men see dollar signs instead of personality. But Kiki--

Well, she had other ideas. Ones he’d only cottoned onto when she climbed on top of him and shoved him against the couch cushions with her mouth.

“D-Don’t look at me!” he manages, trying to busy himself with anything. But there’s only a plate to be put in the sink, and a pan to be wiped. Not enough to fake a decent amount of responsibility. “I’m not--”

“Aw, c’mon, Big Man. Don’t leave us hanging.” Obi leans back, grin so wide it practically splits his face. “Lemme paint the scene. You’re single, Doc is adorable, and she’s waiting there--” he gestures to Zen, who flutters his eyelashes in precisely the way Shirayuki doesn’t-- “for you to make your move. Go!”

He could point out he’s not single, and that he doesn’t have any plans to change that anytime soon-- but that only ends in one way: a two-pronged mockery with additional ridicule provided by the impending arrival of his better half. He could also point out that of all the people in this room, he’s the only one who hasn’t wanted to date Shirayuki, but-- well, the problems with that one were obvious.

Instead, Mitsuhide takes in a deep breath, learns on the counter, and says, “Why, Shirayuki! You’re looking beautiful this morning. Those shorts really flatter your legs.”

There is a long silence, and then to everlasting embarrassment, they burst out laughing.

“Her shorts?” Zen’s hand is pressed to his chest, like he needs support to keep upright. “That’s all you can think of? Her shorts?”

“Well, Obi said not to do her hair,” he protests. “Complimenting her dress seemed like low hanging fruit. I was trying to be unique.”

Obi doesn’t even bother to remain horizontal, sprawling himself over the long forgotten maps. “So you went for her legs?”

“There’s nothing wrong with legs!”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Zen sputters out in an effort to keep his mouth straight. “Definitely a very neutral place to comment on.”

“Definitely not known for being attached to things like asses.” Obi’s mouth twitches, as much a sign for danger as thunder rolling in the distance. “Or puss--”

“I was not trying to comment on that.” He’d felt bad for Zen earlier, but the sentiment doesn’t seem mutual. “It’s not typical, sure, but Kiki never seems to mind when I compliment--”

“Kiki?” Zen squawks. “Kiki?”

“Well, I think we’re all learning a little too much about Big Guy today,” Obi wheezes. “Mainly that it’s Ms Kiki that chased him, and not the other way around.”

“Yeah.” Zen shakes his head, long and slow and solemn, like a doctor about to give a terminal diagnosis. “No game at all.”

Mitsuhide’s not a competitive man. Sure, he was forward on the ice, the kind of player that got sent to the box before the end of the first half and slid right into the captain spot when it was vacant. Aggression is part of the game, competition laced in every turn of his skate and lift of his stick, but that’s a different situation, a different language--

But it’s that part of him that surges beneath his skin right now, that makes him want to saunter over and put both hands on that rickety, painted wood until it creaks. That makes him want to take a full minute to bend down, showing off every centimeter of his one-ninety plus, and ask real low if either of them has made a girl beg on their cock lately, but--

He puts it in its place. That sort of talk always sounded better en français anyway.

Zen waves his hand, slipping his pamphlets out from under Obi. “Anyway, enough messing around. Are you still making omelettes, Mitsuhide?”

“Ohh, omelettes?” Obi spins to him with wide eyes. “Can I get mine with fancy ham?”

Mitsuhide blinks. “Wait, aren’t you going to do your take?”

“Nah.”

Zen shrugs. “Joke’s over.”

“So I just did that for no reason--?”

“I wouldn’t say no reason,” Zen wheedles. “It was very educational.”

Obi grins. “Mainly about how Big Guy likes legs--”

“Oh,” drawls a voice that makes his body go cold and hot at the same time. When he turns, it’s Kiki leaning against the jamb, a single elegant brow raised, excusing amusement and menace in equal measure. “Am I to take it that the show is over?”

“K-kiki,” he stammers. “How long--?”

“Hm.” She saunters over to the counter, slipping onto a stool with a casual grace that still leaves his mouth dry. “Long enough. I have to admit, I was looking forward to seeing a display of Obi’s fabled moves.”

“Ms Kiki,” Obi simpers, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’d be happy to give you a personal demonstration anytime.”

Both her brows raise. “Did I say I was desperate?”

He’s saved from Obi’s answer by Shirayuki padding into the kitchen, flushed and breathless. “Oh, you were right Kiki! Everyone is already ready. Sorry to make you wait.”

There’s a hesitation in the air, and Mitsuhide can’t figure it out, not until he sees-- she’s wearing shorts.

Shirayuki blinks. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kiki hums, sending him a gaze so wicked it should be illegal outside the bedroom. “Do you have anything to say to her, Mitsuhide?”

“No!” It comes out a little too harsh, a little too loud. “I mean, I, uh...like your sandals!”

“Sandals,” Obi snickers, a sound that’s only covered by Zen’s hushed, “Shut up.”

“Oh!” She blinks down. “Thank you. I got them at Payless. I, um, don’t think they make them in your size.”

“No,” he manages mildly. “I don’t imagine they would.”

“You do look real cute, Doc,” Obi chimes in, slinking out of his seat to circle around her. “Did you dress up for today?”

Zen makes a noise, somewhere between a choke and a gasp, but even with the pink brushing her cheeks, Shirayuki’s too used to his antics to do much more than sigh.

“Of course I did, Obi.” Her fists perch high on her hips, cocked as she talks to him. “It’s the last time we’re all going to be going out together, isn’t it? What could be more special than that?”

Mitsuhide may not be a competitive man, and especially isn’t a malicious one, but when Obi’s jaw goes slack, the tips of his ears darkening just the slightest bit, well-- he does indulge in the slightest bit of schadenfreude.

“Well,” Zen says, a little sharp. “Let’s get going.”

“Aw!” Obi whips around. “What about fancy ham?”

“I don’t think you need--”

“Oh, I haven’t had breakfast either!” Shirayuki adds, eyes wide. “Do we have time?”

Zen hesitates, and then with a sigh, relents. “We’ll stop at Dunkies.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #The Wide Florida Bay #modern au #my fic #ans #mitsuhide gets so few POVs in the fic I can't help but let them get away from me okay #he's a gift #the actual six flags chapters are gonna have rotating POV #and it was just supposed to START with him #but then i was like WHAT IF I INCLUDED THE SCENE FROM BEFORE THE CANON DATE #and now we are here

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pbandjesse · 2 years

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I am very sad that my day off is over. I am working for another week before I have the day off again. I tried my best to just relax today and I had a good time overall. But I wish I had more time.

I slept okay. I slept in. I woke up and James was there. My elbow hurt again. But it was fine.

I would get up eventually. Mostly because James was taking me to breakfast. I got myself all cute. My skin hurt though and I wasn't having the best time. But I tried to shake off any bad feelings.

We headed out. It felt really nice to not have tights on. I had my boots on but no leggings and while it was rainy, it was a great temperature.

We drove out to the Towson diner. They were busy but we didn't have to wait so it wasn't bad.

There was some issues with my food. I hate sending things back. But I ordered a spinach and cheddar omelet. Same as always. And it came with mushrooms and I was like. Oh that's okay I can eat around those. And then I cut it up and realized there was chicken in it! I think I got someone else's food. I waited a few minutes but couldn't catch the eye of a waiter so I just got up and found him and explained and he seemed horrified when I told him I don't eat meat. But I wasn't upset. I didn't actually eat any chicken. I was happy to wait for a new one. I had my toast and hash browns in the meantime.

I also just enjoyed James's company and we talked about wedding stuff and camping and food we should make this week. I also just enjoyed people watching.

When the new food came it was great. I only had half and brought the rest home. Almost forgot the box in the restaurant but James ran back in for it. Oops. That would have been funny though after all we did to get the correct food.

After brunch we went to five below and target. Got a few little things. I wanted to look at Easter stuff and get cat food. Cat food continues to be in short supply. But we got some I know Sweetp likes.

I also got a tyedye bunny peep. I had said last time we were there I was bummed that the Bunnie plushies are never furry anymore. But this one is!! And was only $12. So I was very excited about that. It's actually slightly larger then my yellow peep which surprised me.

James got themselves some new pants. I want them to try to have some pants that aren't jeans. So Dickies was a positive step. And they look very cute in them.

We headed home and I was glad for it. The sun was coming out and it was beautiful but I wanted to be home.

We got back here and brought stuff in. James helped bring everything down from the camping closet. I wanted to sort through that today.

James would go help at the theater for a bit. And while they did that I sorted out everything to air it out. I also caught up on my knitting. And worked on sorting things into piles until I knocked over a ceramic bowl we have that James's family friend made and I broke it and felt very frustrated. So I had to take a break.

I played Pokemon for a couple minutes. James got back and we got to work on the camping stuff. They would actually go back to the theater later to help with lighting. But for an hour we worked on figuring out what needed to be cleaned and then putting the new tent together to decide if it's to big.

But after labeling all the poles we at least stood it up and decided it was worth it to try when we camp in may. It's just very big!! But James is good at rolling and got it back in the bag without to much struggle.

They headed back out and I would play Pokemon. And do some art. I finished my fox print. I am not sure what one I am starting next but I'm so close to done this project and that feels really cool. I'm excited to start something new.

James got home and we hung out. They made pasta but I didn't want dinner. I would have cereal later. They also made me hardboiled eggs to make egg salad for lunch. They were a little confused when I asked for egg salad and started cutting bread to make croutons. But we figured it out.

I washed my hair and James started making a cake. And now we are chilling until the cake it done. I am going to dry my hair and be sad about the day being over.

I am at the nursery tomorrow. But that's the only time I am this week. Then it's 4 days of museum and a double day of puhtok and the science center on Saturday. Just a busy busy week.

Sleep good everyone. I hope you are all well.

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adultswim2021 · 3 years

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Ephemera Week (2002)

It’s still ephemera week, and we’re still talking about John K. I said most of my piece on him in the last post, so don’t expect there to go full bore on this one, except I forgot to say he’s animation’s Jerry Lewis. His current stuff is basically Hardly Working. I will not elaborate, because I’m being mean to you0.

MARCH SPECIALS!

In March, Adult Swim advertised a run of one-off specials. A couple of them were already covered because they fell under the parameters of “Adult Swim original production”. They were Welcome to Eltingville (March 3rd) and Saddle Rash (March 24th).

Day in the Life of Ranger Smith | March 10th 2002 - 11:00 PM (Originally aired on Cartoon Network in 1999)

This was one of two specials commissioned by Cartoon Network re-imagining Yogi Bear. The artist what took this assignment was John K, who I REEEAALLY skewered in last night’s post, didn’t I?

This is about Ranger Smith harassing animals and writing them up for violating park rules, basically. It’s short! I remember liking it at the time! Okay, maybe I’m going crazy here, but I distinctly remembered a part at the end where Ranger Smith is in bed and he solemnly confides in the viewer that the noises of wilderness give him nightmares and then it just ends. Did I imagine this? It does end with him in bed, but this doesn’t happen in the version on YouTube (which is from the Adult Swim airing). Huh.

Boo Boo Runs Wild | March 10th 2002 - 11:15PM (Originally aired on Cartoon Network in 1999)

Boo Boo Runs Wild was another one of these stand-alone Yogi Bear John K specials. This one was 30 minutes long. The Ranger Smith short was a brief 7 minutes; I’m guessing they aired a couple Capt. Lingers or something to fill time.

This one is about Boo Boo reverting to his feral nature and causing BIIIIG problems! This special would later go on to be kind of a weird trolling thing Adult Swim would do where they aired it every Sunday for a few months, even promoting regularly. This was like 2006, I think? They’d also air it as part of April Fools. Is that Adult Swim admitting this special sorta sucks? Does it sorta suck? Again, I liked these at the time and REFUSED to actively rewatch these for this write-up. Sorry.

The Jetsons: Father and Son Day/The Best Son | March 10th, 2002 11:45PM (Originally aired on CartoonNetwork.com in 2001) Our John K rock block ends with a pair of Jetsons shorts, Father and Son Day and The Best Son respectively. This is kinda the same deal as his Yogi Bear shorts, but these were exclusive for Cartoon Network’s website. I remember watching them on there. They are as bad as you’d expect late-period John K internet shorts to be, though the second short is a superior version of Spielberg’s A.I. (in that it’s shorter).

Night of the Living Doo | March 17th, 2002 - 11:00PM (originally aired on Cartoon Network, 2001)

Night of the Living Doo originally aired as wraparound segments during a Halloween Scooby Doo marathon on Cartoon Network. It’s kinda like an episode of the Scooby Doo Movies, which shoehorned in a guest star each episode. Suddenly my man Dick Van Dyke be running a carnival and shit. That’s the Scooby Doo Movies. At the end of the night they played all the wraparound segments in one uninterrupted sitting, so the viewer could appreciate it as an actual full-on Scooby Doo episode. Night of the Living Doo functioned both as an extension of that series as well as a parody. The guests were Gary Coleman, David Cross, and the very cool band Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. It was all very self-deprecating and had jokes about the absurdity of Scooby Doo tropes. Well trod territory by this point, sure. But this is better than most irreverent Scooby Doo things. It didn’t hurt that I was a HUGE David Cross fan when this aired. Is this where I tell the stupid-ass story about getting mad at a message board guy for not liking David Cross? Sure. Okay, yeah. When this aired on Adult Swim a guy on Kon’s (hi Kon) message board posted something about not finding David Cross funny, shrugging that he didn’t get the hype. He cited this and his appearances in the Men in Black movies, and nothing else as proof for his lackluster comedy skills. It’s kinda like deeming Eddie Murphy as a bad comedian after watching Dr. Doolittle.

The point of this special is that David Cross is a little wooden and stilted, like in the old Scooby Doo Movies episodes. This poster revealed that he never heard David Cross’s stand-up or seen Mr. Show, explaining “I don’t watch puppet shows” A response that still baffles me to this day. Why Mr. Show isn’t a-- WHAT IS HE TALKING ABOUT? I’m not even sure if there was EVER a puppet on Mr. Show*. David wasn’t even a guest on Crank Yankers at this point! SO WHAT THE FUCK? To this day whenever mutual pals from that board get together and watch a movie or show and a puppet appears we make a joke about this guy. Good story? No? Fuck you.

Other stuff about this show: When it originally aired on Cartoon Network it was a little bit longer than the Adult Swim version. There’s a missing scene. I think it’s David trying to play an improv game with a mummy or something. At one point I had it on tape, but I’m not sure I kept it. Sorry.

*sorry to be coy here, but I do know of at least one puppet on Mr. Show, episode 204 there is brief footage of Grass Valley Greg putting on a puppet show for his staff. This CAN’T be the source of the confusion, can it? It’s literally like, 5 seconds.

MAIL BAG

This’ll teach me to skip a day cuz this really piled up. Thanks, guys. I love all the attention. It is my favorite thing.

I never really saw oblongs as something for the hot topic set. They had Invader Zim and Squee for that kind of shit. Oblongs feel like it was always directly targeting me: the shut-in comedy nerd who would appreciate will ferrell and the sklars being in a thing. Since they ended up doing the exact same show with Janeane Garofalo and David Cross a few years later it seems like that was the goal.

Yeah, I guess that also makes sense. There were a few elements that were kinda gothy but this show was mostly just Angus Oblong ahem, clowning around (puckering mouth to stifle laughter like Chris Elliott in Cabin Boy)

What are your thoughts on the other adult animation blocks of the past couple decades? Spike's notriously failed attempt. Animation Domination. Apparently Syfy has had their own going?

Spike was irredeemably bad. People think this shit is easy. Animation Domination is sorta legit, but it’s anchored by mostly crap. That ADHD thing was kinda good and underrated. Is that still going on? I wish I were more diligent about watching/recording that. Some of them bumpers were good. Also, we mustn’t forget MTV’s oddities. They were kinda the first cable network to court Adult Animation as their thing. They deserve some kind of credit for that. I’m sure they’re doing fine.

I'm having a nice big thing of spaghetti for dinner with some chicken parm? Jealous?

I’ve never had those are they good

What does Ephemera mean? Why is this happenening? Why aren't you talking about 10 Home Movies episodes in a row like a good boy.

In dude time, my friend. In dude time

What would be your Adult Swim dream come true?

Having a complete archive of Adult Swim blocks on a harddrive like Don Giller has with his Letterman archive. Even the commercials and shit. I know of a guy who was a regular taper of the entire block from night 1 but I’m not sure he kept up with it when they went nightly. I should ask him if he still has his tapes, huh?

That or they bring back the BUILD YOUR OWN DVD thing but with blu-rays and you can make your own bumps, which was a different thing they had. THEY SHOULD COMBINE THEM. And you can master it in SD if you wanna put 10 hours of stuff on a disk.

All this is archival bullshit dork shit. Real answer: Clay Croker comes back from the dead and every block is hosted by Space Ghost. That’d be it, right?

If anyone has genuine/better answers please write in with them I wanna keep this conversation going. ‘kay?

McDonalds reintroduces limited edition Adult Swim Toys. You can get them all (plus an extra to keep wrapped for collectors purposes) but you have to spend 20 dollars at McDonalds to grab them all. This is the last day of the promotion. You have to personally eat everything you buy but you can take it home. You can only buy one of each food item. What are you getting? I know the longer the mailbag message is the quicker you are inclined to give some glib remark but indulge this one for once.

Oh wow. I’m literally going to take this seriously. I’d roll in as breakfast was ending. Get myself a McChicken Biscuit and a Bacon Egg & Cheese McGriddle, hashbrowns and a Coffee. Gobble that knob on down. Wipe my mouth with a napkin. It’s lunchtime, bitch. Big Mac, Large Fries, BIG ass soda. You feel me, dude? Lemme tally up. Okay, probably need more. 20 piece nugget. Take that home cuz I’m probably gonna have to save some for dinner. That’s probably 20 bucks right there, especially if you go to the McDonalds on Burnside where all the menu items are more expensive because of the amount of security they have to hire (did you know that different McDonalds have different prices even in the same city? I didn’t until very recently). If this somehow doesn’t satisfy my price point I get a Vanilla shake and eat it anally DURING my BIG D squirt sesh, so it’ll spend as little time in my body as possible. Wait, do I get something for this? I might do this tomorrow just cuz. It sounds like a funky thing to do

Do you think you'll open an Adult Swim mueseum at some point? You seem to be the only steward of its history.

Unless I’m hired to by a large corporation, probably not. Also I don’t think I actually have much in the way of merch other than DVDs. I stopped being a DVD completist at some point around Freaknick The Musical. Oh, I never EVER bought a Robot Chicken DVD, EVER. I literally had a nightmare once that one appeared in my collection.

Hey! Please keep us abreast any time you put more of your garbage on eBay. Maybe you can put your wedding dress on there, you big girl.

Fucking sexist/trasphobic behavior.

Check out my eBay auctions I got season 18 of NCIS up there and some other things :)

The Ripping Friends blow chunks. I don't care if a rapist or the opposite of a rapist (a virgin who volunteers, lol) made it. It sucks a high hard one like when Ozzy banged the Cheiftan's Wife in that Black Sabbath TV Funhouse cartoon. Tell me more.

Tell you more?

Name one rap song you tolerate lol. You can't say anything by weird al or marky mark.

I guess I like the song the pest sings from the motion picture The Pest

Are there any good podcasts on adult swim?

The official one hosted by Matt Harrigan is good, but I’ve only bounced around on it. I don’t know if there’s any formal recap ones. I simply don’t know!

HE'S GIVING HIGH HARD ONE TO CHEIFTAN'S WIFE? UH OH!

Buddy, you are BANNED for LIFE from my MAIL BAG! You drive me CRAZY!

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #night of the living doo #boo boo runs wild #yogi bear #jetsons #ephemera

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foxtophat · 3 years

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MERRY CHRISTMAS IN JANUARY EVERYONE yeah i know ~nothing is fixed~ but whatever, fuck you, have some fanfic

so anyway i’ve been planning this for a while, i’m kinda shocked tho b/c i finished writing it in like less than 3 days??? (aside from editing) usually it takes me longer to at least figure out how to wrap things up, but at least this one was easy money. i’m sure none of the other ones will be so kind to me

this one takes place a month or so after the last one; it’s set in spring 2028 (omfg finally on a new year!!!!) and it has a little something to do with carmina finally getting some chickens!!!! one thing about new dawn that i think was really lacking is the explanation of how life... restarted before the highwaymen. i definitely remember a few houses having chicken coops, too, so i know i’m not crazy putting these feathered friends in. to me, chickens are the most sensible post-apocalyptic pet outside of a dog; easy to care for, provide food while alive AND after death, and they can reproduce easily enough if you’ve got a rooster on hand. i can imagine a family making quite a life for themselves as a poultry farm in the apocalypse!

ugh idk what else to say so i’ll just say it: thank you so much for all of your comments and kudos on this series. i am so stoked to know that my self-indulgent trash is delicious to more than just my possum ass! i’ve had a lot of fun worldbuilding in ubisoft’s playground, and i hope to continue doing more fun stuff that other people will enjoy too!!!

with all that said, i hope you enjoy the fic :) i’ll put it below the cut for you if you don’t wanna leave tumblr, but ao3 looks so much better. anyway, thank you and have a great jan 20th!!!!

Winter melts away the same way it does every year, leaving in its path wet dirt and green buds of spring growth. John, nursing what's likely the last cup of coffee they can wring from this batch of grounds, stares out over the back yard and idly marvels at how quickly the snow had disappeared. Montana had been his first experience with white winters; even though he's gotten used to the changing seasons in theory, though, he can't help but be distracted by it year after year.

Across the yard, situated just in sight by the hangar, John can plainly see Carmina's new chickens looking for breakfast. They're the newest addition to the homestead, but so far John has only had to watch from afar as the Ryes worked to adjust them to their new home. He's not sure who's raising chickens out here, but at least they were willing to barter. Fresh eggs are going to mean a lot more than the dwindling supplies out of Jacob's cache.

The misty-gray of early morning has almost evaporated in the rising sunlight, and still the chickens haven't been fed. John watches them from where he stands, their frustration leading to subdued crows as they scratch at the dirt. He doesn't know who's noisier — them, or Nick and Kim arguing at the table behind him. Thank Christ the wet end of winter is over; John doesn't think he can tolerate much more of their married nagging. On some level, he's glad they don't make a habit of yelling at him instead of each other, but Jesus, he can't wait for them to both get some space from one another.

"This is why we said we weren't gonna do pets, remember?" Nick says. "Because if she got a pet, we would end up taking care of it. Remember?"

"Yes, Nick, I remember."

"Yeah, and here we are!"

Kim sighs. John doesn't have to look to see the exasperated eye-roll that comes with it. "It wasn't me who kept her up late last night! Which one of us was egging her on when she should have been asleep?"

This is exactly why John has never owned a pet. They're more trouble than they're worth, and the only thing they seem to be good for is teaching shitty life lessons to kids who don't care enough to learn. The only good thing about the chickens is that they provide something in return other than obnoxious crowing.

Carmina thumps around upstairs. John isn't looking forward to having to listen to Kim lecture her on responsibility, but he's not thrilled to listen to much more of this bickering, either. If his choices are to stay inside and fester or go out into the first nice day of the year — well, that's not much of a choice, is it?

"Fine," John sighs before either of the Ryes can set their sights on him, "I'll do it."

"Nobody's asking you to do it," Kim replies. "It's Carmina's responsibility."

John shakes his head. "Of course it is. Where's the feed?"

Nick points out a white plastic container sitting on the pass-through to the kitchen. "Not gonna wait for us to boss you around?" he asks.

John picks up the container and rattles it to make sure it's full. "I'm streamlining the process," he replies. "Unless you enjoy giving me orders."

Sure enough, implying Nick might like being a bossy piece of shit is enough to get him to shut up. He sighs with a deep frown at John, who ignores him as he heads out to the coop. It's a petty satisfaction to take the rug out from under Nick's feet, but John's not above it. Not by a long shot.

Some of it might be compensating for the disintegrating peace that had come with winter. Before the blizzard set in, they'd had enough on their collective plates as they prepared for the worst of the season. Afterward, the snow had prevented them from doing much more than what was necessary to survive, and the resulting downtime had settled like a comfortable blanket. Even now, with a few weeks of grating interpersonal interactions, John feels more focused, more rested than he can ever remember feeling. Living underground for eight years, he'd naively thought that he'd gotten enough rest to last him a lifetime — but he'd been strung out on Bliss and trying not to suffocate, and he hadn't known what he was doing. He's starting to suspect that the Bliss might've had a worse effect on him than the myriad other drugs he'd ingested. Hell, he's not sure he's clean even now — but he's managing, and that's what matters.

It's only once he's halfway across the yard that John realizes Kim forgot to argue about him going off on his own. Sure, he's only going as far as the hangar, but it's become something of a pleasantry she uses whenever John pretends to have the freedom to go where he pleases. Her irritation at Carmina and Nick probably made her forget. She's gotten so used to trusting John that she's finally found other things to take up her attention.

Weirdly enough, the casual disregard for his potential backslide irritates him. It really shouldn't. He should be thrilled that he can finally disappear from view for an hour without somebody calling out a search party. He's more than earned it, he thinks, but their trust highlights their naivety. Luckily for them, John means it when he says he's changed — but it's a line they're going to hear time and again from people far less genuine than he's been. They're so willing to help everyone and anyone that they don't even realize how much of a target they're making themselves. John's had to hold his tongue whenever Nick gives free supplies to shifty-eyed tweakers who are "just passing through," and while he trusts Kim not to let anyone obviously suspicious into the house, he doesn't trust her to recognize a cunning liar.

The last thing John needs is for the Ryes to put their trust in the wrong reformed psychopath. At least he's capable of picking up their slack. After all, John has his time at law school and years of psychological abuse under his belt — plenty of real-world experience dealing with unrepentant garbage. He'll notice it when somebody cases the hangar or acts too erratically, and hopefully the Ryes will listen to him if he gets the nerve to voice his concerns.

Not for the first time since summer, John is struck with a newfound respect for Jacob and the role he'd inhabited in the Project. It used to be his job to look out for insurrectionists, and he'd taken on that burden even when John and Joseph would openly dismiss his concerns. John can't imagine how many fires Jacob must've put out while the rest of the family was distracted by the Bliss. Looking back on it now, it's honestly a surprise they maintained their operation as long as they did, considering only one of the four of them was ever sober.

The chickens are hopping at his arrival, scuttling around the dirt and crowing as John reaches the pen. They don't notice him so much as the bin he rattles on approach, full of vegetable cuttings and strange white worms that come out whenever it rains. John doesn't mind one lick — he's never been much of an animal person, and he certainly doesn't care if Carmina's so-called pets notice his existence. Of course, knowing Carmina, she's going to use this as an excuse to shift breakfast duty to John full-time, and John won't have much of a say in the matter.

Well, that's not strictly true, but if Carmina asked, he knows he would do it, if only to give his day more structure. Truthfully, he's grown to depend on routine, when before it was impossible to keep to a schedule that didn't involve other people's expectations of him. There's probably a metaphor to be made about trains on and off the tracks, but John has never been particularly interested in locomotives.

John shakes the dead bugs and scraps out into the pen, watching the hens as they race to be the first to eat. They're perfectly happy now that they've been fed, cooing and clucking as they peck the dirt. They certainly seem content with safety and food — not entirely unlike the survivors living day-to-day in the town and beyond. Sure, John might not always be satisfied by bare sustenance, and one day he'll chafe under the grind of surviving week to week, but for now, he might as well be a dumb chicken crowing in the morning sun.

He throws some more feed into the pen, watching the three hens waddle after their meal. One of them lingers by the fence, freezing for a moment as her head swivels back and forth. She pecks at the dirt away from the feed before hustling after her two companions. John watches as she stops again; when he tosses a few worms in her direction, she pecks briefly at them before lifting her head to survey her surroundings.

The primal sensation of something being wrong nearly overtakes John's reasoning, before he manages to remind himself that a chicken's predators aren't exactly his to worry about. Still, he rattles the container to bring the hens scuttling towards him; all three are easily distracted by food now, but John can't shake the feeling that he'd missed something they hadn't. A fox, maybe? A snake? Anything could be lurking in the woods on the other side of the wash. Not a whole lot that could hurt him , of course, but he's not about to be blamed for Carmina's chickens being eaten by a wild dog.

The fence-line is... nebulous past the hangar, sure, but John's positive Kim doesn't consider the rest of the old airport off-limits. Then again, she might be in the mood to lecture him once she gets through with Carmina. It's a risk he's not sure he's willing to take.

Two chickens continue to eat as one keeps watch, their heads bobbing up and down as they switch off. Their unease mirrors his own, and John can imagine Faith giggling at him for being swayed by some dumb birds.

"Very well, ladies," he sighs, shaking the remainder of their breakfast onto the ground. "Don't let them say I don't care."

The chickens don't give three shits about John's motivations, of course; they watch him go, pecking at the food with increasing carelessness as the distance grows. John rolls his eyes at their sudden fearlessness, half-convinced to let whatever animal is lurking eat them out of spite.

There's a wide swath of dirt behind the hangar, separating it from the mostly-overgrown remnants of Rye Aviation that couldn't be saved. John can see the edge of the chicken pen from here, but the hangar is blocking him from the house. Even though he knows the Ryes trust him not to run off, he still feels distinctly uneasy going somewhere where they can't see him. At this point, Nick would probably only tease him for it, but John's not about to linger out here and risk turning Kim's irritation on himself.

To the right of the derelict hangars is a sparse wedge of trees that have grown in uninterrupted. John knows there's a path cut between the trunks, one he'd made himself while hauling the tire-planters for Kim last year, and there's a long stretch of unused runway beyond it. It isn't a great place for anything bigger than a fox to lurk in. That doesn't explain the feeling of being watched that comes over him as he stops halfway across the empty dirt lot; he looks around, but there's no place for anything to hide out here. The overgrowth on the old hangars can't be more than two feet high, and the bushes in the copse are brambly and sparse. The only place anything could hide would be in the trees, which is why John approaches them with more caution than they're worth.

The thinned underbrush is easy to explore, but John goes carefully as he picks through the trees and bushes. He doesn't know exactly what he's looking for — some sign of predators, whatever those might be — but he doesn't find much. There are some hoof-prints clear in the dirt, curving sharply away from the Rye homestead and back out to the airstrip, which tells John that the goddamn deer are back, probably looking to eat their hard-grown crops. Other than that, there's no sign of anything that might be stalking the hen-house. The ground is still somewhat soft from the rain a few nights ago, but it barely takes the imprint of John's boots as he explores the small grove.

That's why it's such a shock to see the tread of a narrow boot in the dirt by the trunk of one of the trees, well off the beaten path. It's an old print, he thinks — but he doesn't remember the last time any one of them had been out this way. Certainly not since the last time it rained.

An electric shock conducts itself down his spine. Somebody had been out here, hiding here in the trees, and it's only been two, three days since the last rain. John turns, and from his vantage point, he can clearly see the coop and the back of the hangar, but not the house. For that, he'd have to move out of the trees, into direct view of the porch.

It has to be Grace's boot. She's the only one he could imagine creeping around the property with good intentions. But even that explanation doesn't settle the anxious flip of his stomach; he tries not to let it show as he marches from the trees, intent on dragging Nick over and proving to him once and for all that they need to be more goddamn careful about who they let around the property. Somebody is going to want the copper fixtures they've salvaged, even if there's nobody to sell the metal to these days.

John gets halfway back to the coop when he catches something in his peripheral vision. Terrible, primal terror grips him as he fixes his gaze on the trick of the light that had scared him, ready to catch Grace peering at him over the abandoned hangars, or maybe a pack of wild dogs. What he sees instead turns his blood to ice, caught like a deer in headlights as the low-hanging shrubbery and thick vines shift and part for a rising mass of dark brown fur. The shape that rises from the underbrush is a tall, dark smudge against the blue sky, and John nearly swallows his tongue when he sees its face — or the horrifying absence of one, replaced with white, flaking skin and two huge, empty eye-sockets that are fixed on John's position.

It doesn't move. Neither does John, frozen to the spot as the chickens begin to crow and fuss. He can't fathom what he's looking at — a bear, a person, a fucking mutant? — but whatever it is, he suspects it's infected with Bliss. Who knows how many angels ended up underground after the Collapse? What might've happened to them in the years since? All John knows about them is that they're dangerous to everybody but Faith, and Faith died a decade ago. If this is an angel — God, there'll be no stopping it. And if it isn't — then what the hell is it ?

There's no way for John to get from here to the house without the thing chasing him. The hangar is blocking his brutal oncoming murder from the two people who might actually be able to do something about it. He doesn't have to look to know the distance from here to the house is insurmountable.

The creature lifts its arm, and the situation that couldn't get any worse takes an even more horrifying turn as it reveals its weapon of choice: a crudely fashioned bow, the same kind of handmade weaponry that Joseph's followers have been seen with.

All at once, Nick's voice is ringing in John's ears, warning him of what's going to happen if this gargoyle takes him away. The things John hadn't considered before — the Ryes' reputation, Carmina's safety, the hard-won trust John's gained from the survivors — it's all in jeopardy. The situation barrels into him all at once — the realization that whatever Joseph did to create this thing , he won't hesitate to turn on John.

He tries to shout a warning, but his breath is caught in his throat. Faith's voice, faint on the breeze, laughs and whispers sing-song into his ear:

They've found you!

The monster barrels down the slope of the hill as if prodded into action by a hot poker. Its gait is wide, bringing it towards John at speeds impossible to outrun. This time, John's shout comes out clear as a bell, panic screaming through him as he turns and bolts for the house. He nearly clips himself on the pen as he hangs a sharp right turn, the porch coming into full sight —

Something snags the back of John's shirt, and his momentum briefly chokes him. A thick arm bears down across his neck before he can rip free, the creature grunting in exertion as it yanks him backward. John feels his boots scrape on the dirt as he's dragged towards the trees, away from the safety that's plain in sight.

Animal instinct kicks in. John gnashes his teeth but there's nothing to bite, so he kicks out his feet instead, first in front of him and then harshly backward until he can hook his shin behind his assailant's and trip them both to the ground. The creature goes down with a surprised grunt; John does his best to roll away, only to be yanked back by his hair. He's distantly aware that he's spitting like a cat in a sack, clawing and biting, the two of them rolling in the dirt as John screams profanities and heresy at the monster trying to pin him down, anything to convince the universe to take mercy on him for once in his fucking life!

The creature manages to grab him by the shoulder, throwing him into the dirt before backhanding him violently across the face. It's enough to daze him; for one horrible second, he's unable to do anything as the monster begins to drag him across the dirt by the legs.

There's a commotion coming from the house. For a split second, the creature looks up, and John realizes his opening at the same time the monster realizes its mistake. It looks down just in time for John to kick it square in its barky, hollow-eyed face, sending a split down the wooden facade.

" John !"

The monster reels backward as if burned, grabbing at the mask as it falls away. John catches sight of a single dark, wild eye behind the broken wood before he kicks out again, sending both boots into his assailant's chest. As soon as the creature staggers back, John bolts, scrambling towards Kim as she races toward him with the rifle drawn. Nick is hot behind her; he grabs John's shoulder and drags him partway back to the house. John doesn't need the escort, and so Nick quickly leaves him to scramble up the porch as he goes after his wife.

John gets all the way to the stairs inside before he realizes there's no safe place to hide. He'd found out this winter just how flimsy the prisoner story had been; if somebody wants to take him, all they have to do is climb onto the roof and jimmy the lock on the nearest window. Whether it's through the broken window in his room or a gap in the roof leading to the attic, the Project will find him. He can't possibly outrun them forever. He'd be stupid to even try. God, he'd been a fool for thinking Joseph wouldn't send someone looking for him, that he wouldn't want to snatch John back from the clutches of apostasy. There's no way Joseph will leave a loose end like him untied.

John sinks to the bottom steps in his mounting despair, only to realize for a second time that he's being watched. The realization is less of a shock as Carmina peers at him around the kitchen archway; she jumps at the distant rapport of gunfire, staring owl-eyed at John as though she expects him to do something.

"Stay down," John hisses, setting an example as he keeps low on his way into the kitchen.

"What happened?" Carmina asks, frantic, "Is mom gonna be okay?"

"Yes," John replies, although he can't possibly know that for sure. He waits a beat, listening for more gunshots, then carefully lifts his head to check out the window when none come. He lets out the breath he'd been holding when he sees Nick standing with his hands on his hips, staring at Kim further down the yard. Whatever the danger had been, it's not pressing enough to warrant immediate action.

"Seriously," Carmina whines, as if that could hide her fear. "What was it? Was it a bear? Grace says there are bears in the woods but I've never seen —"

John sinks to the ground, his mind reeling even as the panic passes, leaving him numb. "It wasn't a bear."

Carmina chews on her lower lip, looking up towards the window as though she might try looking for herself. "Are the chickens okay?" she asks.

"They're fine," he sighs. He pushes his hair from his face, only to realize that his hands have started to tremble with run-off adrenaline.

"Are... you okay?" she asks, frowning as though she can't decide whether or not his wellbeing is her problem to deal with.

Goodwill must be genetic, John laments. "I'm fine," he tells her. She gives his shaking hands a hard look; he sighs and reiterates, "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"I'm not," Carmina huffs. Apparently, Nick's attempts to teach Carmina how to bluff haven't worked out.

John is saved from needing to reassure her as Nick abruptly appears in the kitchen arch, out of breath and red-faced. His shock gives way to relief at the sight of the two of them huddled by the counter. He's out of breath and visibly bewildered.

"Shit, John, you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says, although he doubts Nick will believe it any more than Carmina had. His foot jogs uselessly against the floor. "Kim — did she...?"

Nick shakes his head. "She tried," he says, "But it was too fast. What the fuck was it ?"

"Somebody from the Project."

"No shit. But — look, it wasn't an angel , was it?"

John shakes his head. "I don't know."

Kim storms into view, making her way to the pass-through from the living room side. She sets the rifle down on the counter, catching John's eye with a glare. John hurries to explain himself, as if he could possibly apologize for bringing the cult back to her doorstep.

"I was checking for foxes," he tells her, "I didn't think it — if I'd known what it was, I wouldn't have gone on my own."

Despite the fury in her eyes and the hard edge to her voice, Kim seems to mean it when she replies, "As long as nobody's hurt."

But the damage is done, and John can't help but babble on uselessly. "I wasn't looking in the right place. But I shouted as soon as I saw it. I just — couldn't outrun it. I wasn't fast enough. And I wasn't — it was stronger than I expected, stronger than..." Even he can hear the panic edging into his voice, cutting himself off with one last worried question. "Do you think it's gone?"

"It better be, if it knows what's good for it," Kim replies. "Are you sure you're okay?"

At any other time, John would be irritated to have to reassure every single Rye individually that he isn't in the throes of a panic attack. Right now, he's only grateful to realize that Kim doesn't blame him for the thing's appearance.

"I am," he says. "Thank you."

Nick groans, covering his eyes with one hand as he leans against the counter. "So much for it being safe to go out alone. Damn it, we got too comfortable."

" I got too comfortable," John says. "It wouldn't have cared about either of you."

"What about the chickens?" Carmina asks, "Are they safe there?"

Kim crosses her arms. "What I want to know is what the hell the Project is doing out here."

Her question is the only one John has any insight into, although he doesn't know how realistic his theory is. "They might be hunting deer," he says. "The only thing I saw, other than — than that , were deer tracks."

"All the way out here?" Kim asks skeptically.

"The hunting can't be any good in that swamp they're hiding in," Nick points out, frowning as he considers the idea. "And there are more survivors around the river these days. I'd bet that'd make for slim pickings."

"I doubt we'd even know they come out this far if I hadn't been the one out there. At least we've confirmed they're actively searching for resources beyond their compound — and they're relying on traditional methods to do so. Most likely because the armory was destroyed."

"Thank God for the Deputy," Nick sighs. "Okay. We're just gonna have to... I dunno, be willing to shoot, I guess." He doesn't sound so sure about it, and he quickly softens the intention. "At least a couple more warning shots. Once they remember guns outstrip arrows every way but sustainability, they'll probably keep back."

"We can push the fence-line out, too," Kim says. "It won't necessarily stop them, but at least it'll give them a line to cross. They're not cavemen — they remember property laws and how those get enforced around here."

"We'll have to start checking the traps more often. They might be living like bloodthirsty Mennonites right now, but that doesn't mean they aren't willing to steal to survive."

"They'll justify it one way or another," John sighs.

"So I guess we don't have to move the chickens after all," Nick says, "So long as we establish a perimeter. Sound good, Carmina?"

Carmina must have slipped out at some point during the conversation because she's nowhere to be found in the kitchen. Nick glances over John's head and out the window, swearing loudly.

"What the hell is she doing out there?"

John gets to his feet as Nick and Kim take off. He watches them through the window as they chase after Carmina, who's stopped to look around partway towards the coop. Either she's dumber than she seems, or she's inherited both of her parents' reckless streaks. Either way, she's going to leave herself open the same way John had. She's too confident that nobody wants to hurt her. The only way John knows how to teach that lesson, though, is not one that Kim or Nick would approve of — and so he sidelines his worries in favor of sticking with whoever is more armed than he is.

By the time John comes outside, Kim is knee-deep in the middle of a heated lecture about safety and responsibility. Carmina scowls at her feet, her face turning red as she's scolded. John ignores them, passing them by in favor of catching up with Nick, who's come to a stop a few yards past the coop. He's staring out into the unoccupied land — land that used to be his property, once. Now Nick is as much a stranger here as John is.

"Check it out," Nick says, holding out a thin, white-barked piece of wood. John takes it and recognizes it immediately as part of the mask he'd broken in two. The hole for the eye is a roughly cut gouge in the soft wood, and the bark flakes as he wipes his thumb across it.

"I hadn't even considered a mask," John admits. "I thought it was a monster."

"You and me both," Nick replies. He heaves a sigh. "Still waiting for the mutants to crawl out of the sewers, I guess. But I think we can handle a couple of jackasses with arrows."

John squints across the clearing, as if maybe his assailant has hung around waiting for them to reappear. "Next time, it might be Joseph," he points out grimly. "That hunter recognized me immediately. They'll tell him I'm here, and he'll want to find me."

"Come on. Like Joseph's gonna risk crossing enemy territory on foot. I'd be more worried about those goddamn hunting parties you used to send out."

John unconsciously reaches up to rub his throat. "Yeah," he says. "You're right. One of them clearly wasn't enough, but if Joseph decides I'm worthwhile, they'll come as a pack. If he's still manufacturing Bliss somehow, it would be easy to subdue me. And then..."

He's surprised out of his would-be reverie as Nick slaps his shoulder with a heavy hand. "We're not gonna let that happen," he says. "As long as you put up the same fight you did today, Kim and I are gonna come running."

Despite the reality of hidden archers and surprise ambushes, John allows himself to be reassured by the sentiment. At the very least, he pretends for Nick's sake. "I suppose you two were quick to the rescue," he drawls. "But if they get me to the tree-line, I'd rather you just put me down before I get dragged all the way back to the compound."

Nick chuckles. "We'll try to avoid that for now."

Looking over his shoulder, John catches Kim crouched down in front of Carmina, hands on her shoulders. Whatever she's saying, it's too quiet for John to hear, but Carmina's sniffles are a loud precursor to a lot of tears.

"I guess she believed you when you said the Project wouldn't care about us," Nick sighs. "At this rate, we're gonna have to put a bell on her."

"I could tell her about the child soldiers from the summer camp, if that would prove the gravity of the situation."

Just the mention of it makes Nick look a little queasy, and John immediately regrets bringing it up. "I don't want to scare her that badly," Nick says. "She's a good kid, she means well. She just needs to stop going off half-cocked, is all." He rubs his hand across his forehead and complains, "I thought we taught her to be smarter than this."

"She's still your kid," John says. Nick gives him a sour look, but it's the truth no matter how bitter Nick might feel about it. "You can't expect her to be utterly obedient, given her genetics."

"I guess ." He sighs, shaking his head. "At any rate, it's time we stop sugar-coating the cult for her benefit. She's obviously not taking it seriously."

John looks again and sees Kim embracing Carmina tightly. He can't help but worry about what might happen if the hunters come back. When he'd been with the Project, he'd understood Joseph's motivations — at least superficially — but now he's completely in the dark. They used to fill their ranks with abducted children and their desperate parents. He has no idea if Joseph is in a position to expand his flock, but if he is... John does not doubt that they'll start with the young and impressionable. Carmina, being young but not as impressionable as they'd like, probably wouldn't make it back to the compound before she got herself killed. He can't imagine anyone having enough patience to break her.

"You... uh, think we should be worried?" Nick asks after a brief stretch of silence.

"Not yet," John replies grimly. After all, the Ryes have a bargaining chip like no other, in case their daughter is ever taken. John can see to it that she's left alone, but it will only work once — and after that, who knows which brother will be sending hunters after her.

"Good thing we got ourselves a couple of extra guns," Nick says. "You and her are gonna have to start carrying pretty much everywhere."

"I'm sure people will love that."

"Fuck people, man, did you see the size of that fucking guy?"

John can't help a wry smile. "They weren't so big. If I were a couple of years younger, I would have taken them."

"Yeah, sure. "

The lecture must be over with for now, as Carmina's attention has turned back to her chickens. Kim watches her from a distance; John can't read her expression from here, but her posture is tense and defensive. John can't blame her — he doesn't have a parental bone in his body, but the stress of raising a child in these conditions isn't lost on him. Trying to instill a sense of fear into somebody who lived their formative years without a threat in sight can't be easy. Doubly so, considering Carmina can no doubt outgun the rudimentary weaponry the Project is utilizing. Hell, maybe they really are only a threat to him. Maybe it doesn't matter if Carmina sneaks out of the house.

"She won't leave unnoticed again," John decides, because it's the only promise he can genuinely keep.

"Oh yeah? You're gonna eat those words when she's a teenager."

"I'd hope she would be smart enough to bring back up by then."

"Me too." Nick exhales loudly enough to get Kim's attention, stretching one arm over his chest, then the other. "Well, I guess we better get started if we want to have anything to show for it by nightfall."

Even so, it takes Nick another moment before he brings himself to move. John lingers behind, unable to help himself as he eyes the trees distrustfully. There's nothing saying that hunter isn't still out there, watching them from a safe distance. If Jacob had a hand in training them, it's unlikely that John will ever see them coming again. He's likely lost the one chance at a level playing field, and he hadn't even realized it was something he could lose.

Fuck it. It doesn't matter. John has adapted time and again to every disaster in his life, and there's something to be said for the person who he's become. If this is the next catastrophe that he'll have to weather, then so be it. If he isn't capable of dealing with Joseph by now, then it's likely he never will be — and if that turns out to be the case, he can only hope that Kim is as quick on the trigger as she seemed to be today.

#far cry new dawn #fcnd #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #carmina rye #far cry fanfic #my fic #ugh tagging sucks on this site #mercyverse

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non-nu · 4 years

Text

Anyway, I just like you [7] | Wonwoo

↠ pairing: wonwoo x reader (female)

↠ genre: fluff

↠ warnings: none

↠ synopsis: she was like a quiet snowfall that came in the night. he was like a warm summer night you never wanted to end. you and wonwoo slowly find yourselves falling in love while you work as the group’s interpreter

↠ masterlist ↞

↠ ↠ ↠ ↠episode 7: truth↠ ↠ ↠ ↠

Wonwoo had come to realize she really liked seafood. Lucky for him, this preference of hers played to his advantage.

It was a couple days into the tour and everyone was finally taking a break from rehearsal to eat. Wonwoo was one of the last to grab the prepared lunchboxes and a deep worry came over him when he saw the only remaining option was some kind of stir fried squid. He pouted his lips and was about to call out to his members when he heard her voice next to him.

“Did you get the squid?” She asked while looking at the container in his hands, “Do you want to trade? I didn’t start eating yet.”

She held out her own lunchbox, the same meal but made with beef. He considered her proposal.

“Are you sure?” He gave her a questioning look, unsure of her motives.

“I like this one!” She pointed to his lunchbox with sincerity. He observed her expression as she looked at him with wide eyes.

“Ok, let’s trade then.” He had been satisfied with her answer and it worked out for the both of them this way. They made the exchange and sat at a table close by to start eating.

“Actually, I don’t eat seafood.” He confessed as he took his first bite, “So I should thank you for liking that squid.”

She gave a small laugh as she chewed before replying, “Well, you can always count on me for a trade.”

“Sure.” He had answered lightly, not certain how serious she was being until a few days later.

On that day, there was only one option for lunch: a combination of chicken with several pieces of shrimp. Again, Wonwoo was preparing to cajole one of his members into making a deal when she found him to replace his shrimp with an extra serving of chicken. Since then, they had a standing agreement which both parties stuck to diligently.

That’s why, several weeks later, Wonwoo didn’t think twice when she used her chopsticks to grab the octopus side dish on his plate and move it to her own. They discussed the latest song he had recommended while she officiously replaced the offending food with rolled egg omelettes, one of his favorites.

When her work was done, she wandered off to chat with the other staff who were standing in a group across the room. Watching her go, Wonwoo dug into his newly prepared meal and reflected on how he had never known someone who liked seafood so much.

↠ ↠ ↠ ↠↠ ↠ ↠ ↠

You didn’t particularly like seafood. You wouldn’t say you hated it, but it wouldn’t be your first choice. Yet, you somehow kept being put in situations that required you to eat all variety of fish and whatever else they could find in the sea.

On this particular occasion, all of the staff and members were dining at a restaurant picked by one of the managers. He had done a lot of research on the place and recommended everyone get the house special. Without much thought, you followed his advice only to learn the restaurant specialized in exotic seafood dishes. Their specialty dish consisted of a tasting plate that included some unidentifiable type of fish, jellyfish, and sea urchin. There were also some more common items, such as shrimp, crab, and scallops.

You did alright with crustaceans, but you weren’t such an enthusiast that you wanted to eat deep-sea animals. You had pretty much picked around everything you could manage to eat and were still left with a relatively full plate. You replied enthusiastically when the manager asked how you liked the food, but internally you were devising a plan to subtly push the remaining food onto those around you.

So, when Jihoon asked if you were going to eat your sea urchin, you were happy to let him have it. He reached his chopsticks over from where he was sitting next to you in a gesture to pick up his loot when a voice cried out.

“Lee Jihoon,” You both turned to Wonwoo who was observing you at a diagonal across the table. His tone was teasing with a slight note of admonition, “Why are you taking hers? Don’t you know seafood is Y/N’s favorite?”

You were unsure how to reply to his comment, and the boy beside you was equally taken aback.

“What are you talking about?” Jihoon replied with a confused laugh after a beat, “Y/N never eats seafood.”

“What do you mean?” Wonwoo replied in an equally confused tone, “Y/N always takes my portion of seafood dishes. Since the first week of the tour.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jihoon tilted his head to the side, “It’s true she does seem to end up with it a lot. But she always passes it off to the members or other staff.”

At a stale mate, the two boys turned to stare at you. What both of them were saying was true. When you had seen the look of sheer disappointment on Wonwoo’s face that day with the lunchboxes, you had to speak up. Then, after he had told you about his aversion, you felt compelled to keep helping him out. On the other hand, you yourself couldn’t stomach that much seafood so you had found willing recipients in people like Jihoon and Seungkwan.

You didn’t regret what you had done because it felt natural to care for him in that small way, but it did put you in a tough spot now as you wracked your brain for a reasonable explanation. You cleared your throat in order to stall for time.

“I like seafood sometimes.” You eventually got out unconvincingly. It was the best you could come up with.

“Uh-huh, is that so?” Jihoon asked as he leveled you with a knowing stare, “So you like seafood when it’s from Wonwoo. Something like that?”

Heat rushed to your face at his teasing and you landed light punches on his shoulder in your embarrassment while panicked denials left your mouth. He responded by laughing joyfully as he was finally able to nab his original target from your plate. You didn’t dare look at Wonwoo’s reaction and, luckily, Dino chose that moment to call for everyone’s attention while he told a story. You eagerly obliged, hoping the events over the last couple minutes would soon be forgotten.

#wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #svt fluff #kpop fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #kpop imagines #svt scenarios #kpop scenarios

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moon-yeongjun · 3 years

Text

Chuseok || Mu Jun

Summary: On Chuseok, the Baes and Moons gather as is tradition and a secret is revealed...

@baenxietydad

JUN:

Chuseok.

Normally, Jun loved Chuseok. It was the one holiday that Jun could always afford to come home for with no guilt, to enjoy Eomma’s cooking and play games with his siblings. Last year’s Chuseok he had to spend it with Tiffany’s family and missed his own in the very fibre of his bones. He called Eomma and talked to her for two hours, nearly crying a few times, but of course, holding it all in. He had been looking forward to this Chuseok, then. Even though Abeoji would not be here...there would still be food and games and the Baes would come over like they always did--and Korean would flow, and the house would smell like egg batter, and he’d be...home.

But this year Chuseok came on the heel of Jun’s greatest shame. All the rich, delicious delicacies of Chuseok, the gifts, he didn’t deserve any of it. He woke up and wanted to walk out into the fields-- banish himself if Eomma wouldn’t.

He couldn’t, though. Tradition was tradition, town scandal or not. Eomma found him feeding the chickens and gave him his to-do list for the day, mentioning the Baes would be over before noon.

So here he was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. Onions actually. They burned his eyes, making him sniffle and turn bright red. He looked up from the cutting board as he tried furiously to blink the onion-stench from his eyes when he heard a knock.

Ah, it was Mu-yeol hyung, sent in here by Eomma no doubt.

“It’s the onions!” Jun declared instead of hello, sensitive about the tear that rolled down his cheek. “Aiya, come here and take over, I need a break.”

MARLIN:

Mu-yeol clicked his tongue like he was admonishing Jun and quickly took over chopping the onions. Aiya, you’d think humans would evolve and immunity to the gasses onions give off considering they use them in cooking regularly.

“Fun fact-” the ‘about fairies’ bit was silent “-onions don’t bother us. Evolution was kinder to us.”

He gestured to the counter with some shavings of veggie peels on it. “Scoop those into the trashcan before noonim yells at us both.”

Yells was used liberally here, as Eun-jung was more likely to go ‘omo, boys what a mess!’ and quietly do the spot cleaning herself while Jun insisted they were ‘about to do it, eomma!’

“Yah, you really took something out on the onions, didn’t you?”

JUN:

Jun rolled his eyes at his hyung, though it was a good-natured kind of gesture (for Jun, at least). Of course fairies were unaffected by onions. You know, sometimes he wouldn’t mind so much being something like a fairy. It seemed idyllic from where he stood-- a kind community, lots of holding hands, one specific thing to do, even if that was, eh...garbage-talent! Or something. But anyway.

He obeyed his hyung and put the food waste into the food waste bucket, since he would add it to the Moon’s compost pile later. Then he moved to the drawer to pull out another knife. He’d go for the mushrooms, eh.

“Ah, just getting warmed up, hyung,” Jun said almost cheerfully. With a snort he took his place next to Mu-yeol and put the mushroom’s on another cutting board. “It’s election season. Plenty to be upset about, eh.” He began his furious chopping again.

Yes, the election was what got Jun worked up. Nothing else!

MARLIN:

“The election? Oh.” Mu-yeol nodded slowly.

He almost forgot about that seeing as he never cared enough before last year. His son of course had only been going to human school for a year so it was just last year he cared enough to vote. If he recalled correctly he’d voted for Hades Acheron.

This year? He didn’t even know what seats were going to be open or who all was running yet. Of course that had yet to be announced but he imagined townsfolk had heard gossip of who may run.

“Are you looking to run?” He asked Jun, an eyebrow quirking up.

JUN:

“Ha!” Jun barked at his hyung’s ridiculous question.

Honestly, he could laugh even harder than that.

Jun, see, never had political aspirations. Politics were a bastard’s business-- necessary evil, yes, but not for him. Before his market was attacked though, he had hoped to help Al McWiggin with a campaign. Now? He wasn’t sure. It might be too dangerous. His store was targeted already. What if Swynlake went after his family next? What if Tae-yah was harassed at school? Jun fretted over these questions, and cursed himself for even caring in the first place--for ever wanting to make Swynlake better.

Why did he care about Swynlake when Swynlake did not care about him?

“Please, don’t you know we’re public enemy number one right now?” Jun said bitterly as he swept his mushrooms into the boiling pot. He reached for the carrots next. “I run, I get chased out of town with pitchforks.”

MARLIN:

“No? No, I didn’t hear. Who could be mad at your mother?” Mu-yeol wrinkled his nose in disbelief. Eun-jung was the kindest, most loving person. “Or is it you? You can be...abrasive.”

As Jun’s hyung, he can say something so brutally honest.

“Of course, part of that is our culture. We're blunt people. What makes you think people are so angry with you?”

Being in the Hollow, he hadn’t heard of the vandalism.

JUN:

He scoffed again.

Was it a good thing that his hyung was clueless? Maybe, maybe not. Mu-yeol didn’t really count when it came to Swynlake. He avoided the town unless he was 1. Working; 2. Watching his son dance; or 3. Picking up Korean-specific groceries from the Moon Market. He had not come by recently and so he did not see the RACIST accusation nor did he go on Twitter or read the newspaper. Maybe it was a good thing talk did not reach the noisy dance halls of Pixie’s then? Or Jun should not count his luck.

He began to furiously chop the carrots.

“The store was attacked, hyung. A girl--she hated my petitions against vampires--against vampires, you know, the one many people signed! And so she vandalized the Market!” Jun brandished the knife very unsafely as his anger grew. “She said I was racist! I’m not racist, eh, I just don’t like vampires. You don’t like vampires!” Jabbed the knife toward Mu-yeol. “But I’m not racist. But no, now everyone is saying that we are unfriendly to Magicks and some are saying they won’t shop at our store-- but we are not, eh, we’ve never--we serve anyone who comes in, vampire, werewolf, fairy, sorcerer, we have never turned away a customer--all because I just wanted to make Swynlake safe against dark magic, dark magic, not all magic-- so I’ve ruined my entire fami--ah!”

He hissed and his hand jerked away. He’d sliced into his skin with the knife as tears had blurred into his eyes once more. At least now he could blame such tears on the pain. Jun spat a very explicit Korean curse as he made to move over to the sink.

MARLIN:

Now, Mu-yeol was about to tell Jun it would be okay but then he had to go and damn near slice his hand off and that kicked him right into healing fairy mode. Jun swore and Mu-yeol followed him to the sink and turned it on so the water would rinse the cut.

“Hey, hey, sh it’s okay. Don’t think about it.” Mu-yeol said gently. “I’ll fix it, give me your hand.

With her bare hand - which was not human medical practice - Mu-yeol took Jun’s hand in his and waved his other hand over the cut which in one motion stopped the bleeding. To seal the cut however he had to rest his other hand on top of Jun’s until it felt like they held sunbeams in their hands, complete with a little golden glimmer.

He pulled his hands away, still covered in Jun’s blood, and nodded to the hand. “Good as new.”

And with a flick of his wrists so that his palms faced up Jun’s blood disappeared from his hands. “And clean.”

JUN:

“Daebak.”

Jun did not say this.

He’d grumbled the entire time Mu-yeol tended his gash, tears stinging in his eyes. He had not heard the kitchen door open. He did not see Eomma enter. Only now he heard her soft exclamation. Jun jerked his head to see her holding freshly picked cucumbers from Appa’s garden. She had obviously brought them for Mu-yeol and Jun.

She had also, obviously, seen Mu-yeol perform magic.

“Eomma,” Jun blurted and instinctively stepped in front of Mu-yeol as if he could hide--

Eun-jung blinked several times and then scurried toward them. “Aiya, already using both our cutting boards! Where am I supposed to cut these, hmm?”

Jun blinked. He glanced at Mu-yeol--

Eun-jung pushed her way between them. “Junnie, the gim please.”

“Eomma…”

“Stop standing there with your mouth open, you’ll eat a fly,” Eomma huffed. She looked at Mu-yeol. “Does this kid have rice stuffed in his ears? What?” A pause. “Are we still pretending I don’t know?”

MARLIN:

Mu-yeol stood there frozen like an ice block as his eyes flitted between Jun and Eun-jung. He used magic. He used magic on Jun (to help him!) and she didn’t even flinch. Apart from a soft exclamation of sur— no, not even surprise. She’d sounded impressed. Amazed? But not surprised.

And most importantly she didn’t seem angry.

“I— what. Wait, what.” Mu-yeol finally stammered, looking at Jun as if to ask if he knew she knew.

“You knew?” He asked quietly, barely above a whisper. “And you don’t care? For how long?”

JUN:

Jun watched his mother sigh, then smile gently at Mu-yeol.

They had a rule in their household, very vague as to apply to many things. The rule was this: don’t talk about it. It could mean the recurring billywig blight that kept attacking their lettuce. It had meant Abeoji’s cancer. It definitely meant the many strange clients the Moon Market served, ‘strange’ applying to couples like Simba and Berlioz and to fairies like Mu-yeol. While these things were not altogether strange to Jun, he understood his parents’ stubborn silence as a conditional acceptance, for Swynlake had been what Abeoji could afford, and now that they were here-- it was home, flaws and all. They must respect those flaws.

At least, that’s what Jun thought. Now? He felt like he’d just sliced his whole thumb off, even though the pain had vanished. What the hell was going on, eh?!

“Oh, I don’t know!” Eun-jung said as she shrugged and laughed, though something in her sweet eyes remained sad. “Nam-minnie would always lose his hats, running around the store! You two aren’t so clever as you think. But you never said anything; I didn’t think you wanted us to know. It isn’t our business.” She shrugged a second time as she skinned the cucumber down.

“You’re okay with it?!” Jun blurted.

Eun-jung shot him a glare. “Eh, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because!”

“They’re the Baes! What was I going to do, stop talking to them?” And though Jun knew she did not mean to, his Eomma blushed and looked back at her cucumbers, sucking her teeth as though Jun was ridiculous.

But--he understood at once. It was like he had always thought, the same reason why Jun had never said anything, following the rule of the Moon household to the strictest letter. The last thing he had wanted to do was take away one of Eomma’s friends. She hadn’t wanted to lose Mu-yeol, either.

“Didn’t I tell you to get the gim?”

Jun made a face. “Eommmaaaaaa.”

MARLIN:

Eun-jung knew.

Either she’d always known or she came to know and it didn’t matter to her, because she still invited them over for Chuseok; she still let Nemo sleep over with Tae; she still gently scolded Mu-yeol for telling Nemo to always help with dishes when he sleeps over.

Had it not been for his being well-versed in Korean human culture, where showing the emotions he wanted to display now was frowned upon, he might have burst into tears and hugged her. He still almost did.

“Tae eomma…” he said quietly — of course getting back to chopping onions because Chuseok meals waited for no touching revelation — “And you...don’t have any questions? It’s okay if you do. I owe you that much for intending to lie.”

JUN:

Eomma went quiet for a moment, but her hands didn’t stop. The knife banged against the cutting board as she sliced up the cucumbers, her movements quick and even. Jun watched, but those hands did not hesitate. Eomma did not seem to be uncomfortable either-- just focused on her task. Though he would be the first to admit that there was more he didn’t know about his parents. After all, he hadn’t known this! He’d foolishly kept a secret he didn’t need to keep. All this time, thinking he was protecting the Moons-- yah, what good was his gesture now?

Though he wondered. About Abeoji. What about Abeoji?

Eomma glanced at Jun first, probably sensing the loudness of such thoughts, but then smiled at Mu-yeol.

“Eh, only if you want to share. I’ve lived in this town too long, I know such things are sensitive. It’s best to be polite.”

Jun’s cheeks heated, hearing the lecture for him in it.

“Though--” she paused again, dropping her eyes. She tried to sound casual. “Can all fairies do that? What you did for Junnie? Is that why you look so young?”

MARLIN:

That was the one thing about Korean human culture that really, truly, clashed with fairy culture. The whole ‘don’t ask about anything’ thing. He gave her permission, with his previous statement, and was incredibly thankful she did bite the bait, if only nibbled at it.

He chuckled low in his throat and got back to cutting vegetables, albeit slowly, before Eun-jung scolded him for just being a decoration in her kitchen.

“Not all fairies, only fairies like me. We’re all born with what we call Talents, and that’s our magic. Mine is healing, just like my youngest brother and one of my grandfathers. My parents were - are, they’re still alive - a Scout talent and Pixie Dust talent. Which means my father helps protect the Hollow, and my mother harvests and maintains the pixie dust supply for the whole Hollow. I look so young because once we hit about twenty-five we age slower than humans; a fairy’s lifespan is generally 150-200 years. Our Hollow Queen or King lives for centuries. My father is 103 and my mother is 75.”

Mu-yeol awkwardly cleared his throat. “Sorry. That was probably a lot.”

JUN:

Yah, talk about overexplaining. Though Jun only thought that because he was so used to underexplaining-- to excuses and hand-waving and looking the other direction. All such things became habits and habits were hard to break, even when there was no reason to keep them now. He saw the same behavior in his Eomma-- as she blinked and looked uncertain as to react to any of that.

He wondered if she was thinking about Abeoji.

Jun was thinking about Abeoji.

Jun was thinking about how he had begged Mu-yeol to do something, and Mu-yeol said that he could not. It was hopeless, of course it was, and it was not Mu-yeol’s fault, but bitterness filled Jun anyway as his hyung spoke of living so long after healing Jun’s hand like it was nothing. Why did some creatures get such blessings when humans were forced to labor for the mere handful of years? Abeoji had only been sixty-one. Sixty-one. And he was gone.

After a brief pause, Eomma nodded as though no such pause occurred. “Ahhh, I know about talents, of course. I did not know they weren’t all-- I though it was all in nature and we could get you to help our tomatoes grow.” Her eyes twinkled, all in jest. “But healing, yah, that’s very important. You must be so respected.”

MARLIN:

Mu-yeol had already unloaded on Jun how very much not respected the Baes were in the Hollow, so he wasn’t sure how to answer Eun-jung.

“At the clinic I am.” He didn’t lie because that was true.

This was Eun-jung’s first Chuseok without her husband. He wouldn’t depress her by telling her about why outside of the clinic he and Nemo were a little...not everyone’s favorite.

“Talents are unpredictable. None of my siblings have the same as my parents. But, Nemo is the same as his mother was. It just depends. On what, I’m not sure.”

JUN:

Jun was still watching his eomma as if she might transform in a moment-- turn from the sweet woman he knew that she was into the woman who ripped the covers off the bed and started shouting at her children if they stayed asleep for too long.

But of course Eomma didn’t. Why would she yell at Mu-yeol? There was no reason to yell at Mu-yeol. They were very different people, his eomma and his hyung, and yet it seemed there was enough similar between them that they both wanted-- to be kind to each other, to forgive each other for the things they might disagree on.

It made Jun’s heart felt so soft and tender. He rubbed at his chest. Maybe it was just heartburn.

“Ooooooh, I see. Well, that’s children for you anyway. Junnie takes after Appa, doesn’t he?” she smiled at Jun and turned Jun’s whole face red.

Jun sucked his teeth as if he were disagreeing.

“Who knows why they do? Eh, Junnie, start rolling these.”

Jun had no choice to come forward to arrange the gimbap.

Eomma turned to face Mu-yeol then-- and her face looked much more serious. “Mu-yeol ssi, I do hope… I think-- I am sorry,” she finally settled on. She bowed her head slightly. “If you felt that our family would not welcome yours if we knew about your heritage. I think, when we were younger… Yoon-seok and I, there was a lot we didn’t know how to talk about. There’s still so much. But I hope you will still feel safe here.”

#mu jun #eun jung #YESSS this is well over a month and a half late #but what are u going to do eh #para #hey i love the baes and the moons so much

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redfoxwritesstuff · 4 years

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Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 16)

Happy Friday!

Clint x ofc, Series rating: M

Chapter warnings: None

So- I’m going to be traveling next week and there will be up update next week. I’ve been blessed enough to get to see Betrayal on my birthday (12/4). So while there is a chance for a Coffee update on Tuesday, there will be NO DUST on Friday next week.

Want to buy me a coffee? I do live off of coffee.

Check out the Masterlist for Loki, Tom Hiddleston, Steve and other Clint stories.

Chapter 16: Home sweet home?

Deanna had forgotten how good it felt to have clean clothes. Yeah, she had done the washing in creeks and they got clean...ish. But now that was nothing compared to how good if felt to slip into a pair of sweatpants still warm from the dryer. The moan that slipped out of her was borderline pornographic.

With a fresh shirt, socks and pants on, the dirty ones went right into the wash. All in all, with the bedding included, there was a good solid four loads of laundry. But boy, once it was done everything felt and smelt amazing. It was easier to be positive, or at least as close to positive as is possible in this new world, when everything was soft and warm.

Still, when Clint helped her back into her camper there was a weight off of her shoulders. It was as if the ghost of the family that had once inhabited the house was still there. She felt like they were watching, judging her for imposing on what should still be their home. She didn’t want to replace them. That wasn’t her goal.

There was no questions asked when she started making dinner in the RV kitchen, carefully balancing all her weight on one foot. If she let the boot rest on the floor and avoided trying to bear weight with that foot, she could almost stand normally.

“Bed’s all made up.” Clint announced as he walked by and plopped dramatically on the couch.

“Thanks.” The word sounded flat coming from her lips.

Clint noticed and pulled himself to his feet and wrapped his arms around her. “Hey, you know- just because I made the bed, we don’t have to sleep in here. We can sleep in the house, in the guest bedroom, we can sleep in...” the words died.

“I’m not sleeping with you in your wife’s bed.”

“I wasn’t going to-”

“Yeah you were. You didn’t want to but you were going to offer it anyway.” She turned in his arms awkwardly, shuffling and hopping to manage it. “It’s okay.”

“I-”

“I’m not wanting to replace her. I don’t want to sleep in her bed. I don’t- Look, I don’t know what we are doing but if you want to sleep in your own bed, that’s fine. I like not being alone but I have Trust, I don’t need you.” It was a lie and she knew it. She needed him more than she cared to admit to anyone, to herself.

“But... I think I need you.” Clint admitted what she could not, resting his forehead against hers. “And it’s wrong but.. I think I need someone to need me too. But I won’t sabotage you to make you need me-”

“Clint, I do-” He talked over her, wanting to get the words out before the will to speak them was gone. She had no choice but to swallow her backpedaling.

“When your foot is healed, I won’t force you to stay with me. I won’t do anything to make you need me. But maybe… you’ll need me the same way I need you.”

“What way do you need me? I’m just a burden.”

“You’re not. I need someone to rely on me. Let me have that, at least for now? And-” Clint looked out at the farmhouse through the window then closed his eyes. It was so much easier to focus on her. “If when you’re healed you want to go, you can. But if you don’t, that’s fine. Or if you do but want me to go with, that’s fine too.”

“Clint?”

“I’m over thinking, I know. Just- how about this? Let’s stay in here. Unless you don’t want me to stay with you? We can use the well and I can rig something up for the gray water to drain into the septic and-”

“One day at a time.” She took a shaking breath before starting. “I don’t know what we’re doing. What we are. Let’s just take it one day at a time? I- I don’t want to sleep in there. I like it in here. I would rather you stay in here with me but that is your home, you can sleep where you want.”

Clint reached around her, turning the stove off and moving the pan onto the other burner. No one liked overcooked chicken. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

That’s all it took for the topic to settle itself. They found themselves into a routine of sorts. Each day was peaceful and blended into the other. Clint would be the first to wake and would sneak out of bed to start the coffee. Somehow, she would sleep through this and him climbing back into the bed.

They took turns making breakfasts, much to Deanna’s dismay. She wanted to do as much as she could for him and every time she would try to do more than Clint thought was fair, he would smile and argue. More often than not, he could outlast her.

He would tend her garden as her ankle healed. It was rare that she ventured into the farmhouse. Mainly, she would hobble inside to shower or wash dishes, not wanting to fill her tank with dirty water any faster than needed.

As the first week came to a close, Clint had rigged up a drain from the RV’s gray water tank into his septic system. He was far more proud of the simple set up than he she expected. A hose was secured over the drain pipe and running along the ground to the drain in the shop. While she looked on, he made a show of turning the valve open and standing back with his arms wide.

“How do I know it works?” She asked.

“I… I can show you the tank, if you want to see it? I mean- it’s not-”

“No thank you.” While she had been a mother and changed plenty of diapers, the idea of looking at a tank full of mostly human waste wasn’t high on her list of things she wanted to do with her day.

The next day he set to work hooking the garden hose up to the fresh water tank. Just like that, Deanna’s home on wheels was connected to the water and septic system. Running from the RV to the house sat the brightly colored hoses with the extension cord providing power to the RV from the farmhouse’s generator.

The second week bled into the third as her ankle began to heal. Soon she was hobbling easier and feeling more at peace in her place at the farm. Clint was dutiful in taking the laundry inside for washing and returning the to the RV, warm and dry.

The trees were beginning to turn as September began to roll passed them, not that they were paying the passage of time any mind. They were too busy harvesting produce and strengthening her healing ankle. Clint had painted a target to the back of the shed and as soon as she could stand on her healing ankle, he had her outside and learning to shoot arrows.

She wasn’t really very good at it. Terrible at first and if she was forced to tell the truth, she hated it. It took a week to get an arrow to do anything more than fall at her feet let alone hit the barn. Actually managing to hit the target seemed like a distant dream. Still, Clint seemed to enjoy teaching her more than she enjoyed learning. If it meant keeping that smile on his face, she would suffer through lesson after lesson.

While she didn’t see the point in learning to shoot the arrow, she had to admit her arms were getting stronger, drawing the string back again and again. It wasn’t much, but after the second week of lessons, the string was easier to draw back, just in time for Clint to replace the bow with one even harder to pull.

Turns out, the one he had her using at first was designed for older children. When Clint told her, she was half tempted to smack him with the bow. She didn’t resort to violence purely because she was pretty sure if she had started with the bow she was using now, she wouldn’t have been able to draw the string back.

As time passed, she was better able to walk and with that came the freedom to do more for herself. She would bring the laundry into the house and do the washing every few days while he went out to hunt. It was strange, being in the farmhouse while he was gone and she never lingered inside.

One day, Clint returned earlier than she had expected and was far too proud of himself for her to not have questions. In the back of the truck he had acquired in one of the nearby towns, was a carcass of a deer. There is a flurry of angry squawking from the truck and on a trailer pulled behind, a stack of boxes.

“What the hell?” Deanna could only laugh, standing on the pouch watching Clint climb out of the truck.

“Guess what, Babe?” Deanna watched on as he scurried around the front of the truck with a wide grin on his face. Opening the door to the passenger and back seats, he revealed three cages with relativity angry looking chickens inside. “I found a farm about fifty miles to the south and he had chickens!”

“How did you convince him to give you chickens?” Deanna laughed as the birds protested to their cages being moved but it did nothing to take the pride from Clint’s face.

“So- Jesus these guys are kinda heavy- You know how I take a few bottles of pills with me when I go out hunting? Shit- ow, Tony, don’t bite!”

“You named a chicken Tony?” She deadpanned, watching as he stacked cages on the ground.

“Yeah! I mean, I didn’t, he was already named but I’m not changing it. And Tony’s a rooster.”

“I’m not killing chickens.”

“We’re not! I mean, not all of them at least. The hens are egg layers. If Tony’s naughty we can eat him.”

“Where are we going to keep them?”

“I’ve got a plan, Babe. Don’t you worry.”

“Mhm.” Deanna hummed as Clint swept up the deck stairs and wrapped his arms around her. His hands were cold and his nose was a bit red with the chill in the air. They shared a quick kiss before Clint jogged back down the stairs and around the trailer.

Deanna left him to his task and carried the laundry back inside the RV. There was a chill in the air that kept her running the electric heater most of the time now. She wasn’t even aware that there was an electric heater in the RV until recently. She thought all she had was the propane heater but that was just one of the ways Clint had saved her.

Humming, she set to work making a pot of coffee. It was only a matter of time before they ran out of grounds. Clint was having to travel farther and farther from the farm to find supplies. For now at least, with the chill in the air and Clint clearly having a long day of hard work ahead of him- he deserved a cup of coffee.

While the pot brewed, she watched from the kitchen window as Clint wrestled the deer out of the truck. He had already gutted it and for that, she was thankful. It wasn’t something she wanted to watch him do. After running into the farmhouse, Clint returned and made short work out of carving the meat.

While he worked, Deanna pulled out a pot and set to work cooking rice. It was something she was doing more and more. One of these days, she planned to go out with Clint and try to find a rice cooker or instant pot. Something like that, that she could use to make some easier meals. Since they had access to electricity, why not make use of it?

While the oven heated, she grabbed out some snap peas and tossed a few small handfuls onto the baking sheet that she balanced over the sink. It would have been easier to cook inside the farmhouse but she couldn’t stomach the idea, even now. She wasn't sure she would ever be able to cook in Laura's kitchen.

She grabbed some broccoli and tossed a cutting board onto the dinette table behind her. Once she cut the heads down to smaller bits, she tossed them onto the pan as well. Next went a handful of cherry tomatoes. A quick toss with olive oil, salt and pepper and she slipped the baking sheet into the small oven.

When she next looked outside, Clint had the deer skinned and dismantled. Most of the meat was already inside the farmhouse for storage. It would be good to have meat- they had almost run out and were making what they had stretch. Clint would supplement by hunting wild grouse but they were not very meaty birds.

By the time the vegetables were tender and the rice had finished cooking, Clint had almost gotten everything off the trailer. She made up two bowls and two mugs of coffee and slowly worked her way outside.

The cool weather made her healing ankle feel stiff and she still favored it. He told her it wouldn't be much longer at all until it finished healing.

“What’s all that?” She asked, coming up to his side. There was an ache in her ankle that was telling her that she really needed to sit down and call it a day soon. At least she had accomplished something today.

“Chicken coop.” Clint twisted his back and the sound of cracking filled the air.

“Backs aren’t supposed to do that.” Deanna joked, holding out the two mugs, carefully held in one hand.

“Babe, did you make me coffee?!” Cling moaned, taking both mugs and setting them on the trailer.

“And lunch too.”

“What did I do to deserve such treatment?” He smiled, taking to bowls and sitting on the trailer.

“Brought meat,” She said. “and chickens too. We needed meat.”

“Yeah, noticed we were running low.”

They ate in silence for a bit, each thinking of how strange it was to be here. Not really here, in this physical place in Missouri but here. Building up a self sufficient farm with someone who had been a stranger not very long ago at all. They were figuring their path out. While they supported each other, they were making small steps toward moving on.

Clint leaned to the side, fishing the small satellite phone he carried but rarely used out of his pocket. “Can you put this on the charger for me when you go inside? I need to check in with Nat before she sends a search party for me.”

Deanna nodded, “Sure.”

“Now! Time to show this chicken coop who’s boss!” He stood and stretched, arms reaching toward the bright midday sun and shirt riding up some. “We’ll have eggs before you know it.”

“I’m holding you too that or Tony’s going to be a Thanksgiving turkey.” Deanna laughed.

“Oh!” Clint turned, wide smile on his face. She wondered why he always felt the need to put on a jovial show. It was okay for him to not smile during the day. He didn’t have to hide his pain until night, not with her. “I saw some wild turkeys! Gonna try to get one for us.”

Deanna sat in the sun, watching Clint work for a bit. It didn’t take long for him to wrestle his shirt off as he hauled boxes and polls off the trailer. It was mesmerizing, watching him work in the sun. With skill and precision, he set about building the coop. Power tools whirled to life in his hands as Clint Barton demonstrated that he was so much more than just a sharp shooter.

It was nearly sun down when Clint had the coop finished and the large fence circling it erected. The door latched and locked. Dinner was simmering inside as Clint spread hay along the ground.

Deanna watched from the window over the sink as she stirred the large pot. It would be lunch tomorrow as well. The stew wasn’t very good on it’s own but she had done what she could to perk it up, adding extra carrots, celery and tossing in a small handful of herbs.

In the oven, a small loaf of bread cooked in a silicone loaf pan that Clint had brought home a week prior. Before that, she'd been struggling with a old loaf pan of Laura's. It took more than a few tries, but she could almost make a decent loaf of bread now.

The first few batches she made turned out terrible. So bad that they were sitting in the fridge inside the farmhouse. Clint said it would make some nice supplement for the chicken food at least. A few days ago, she managed to get a loaf to come out tasting right.

Clint showered her in praise that night but it was short lived. Tears had rather unexpectedly gathered in her eyes and before she had a chance to even process why, she was sobbing. Clint was quick and held her tightly in his arms as she wept into his chest.

It was a dumb thing to cry over but he hushed her when she said it. The bread stuck to the pan and while it finally came out of the oven looking and smelling right, it didn’t come out of the pan. They had to break it apart and eat it in pieces- there wasn’t another option.

As Deanna pulled the newest loaf out of oven and sat it on the covered sink to cool. It would pop right out of the new pan without any effort. No more sticking loafs.

The phone on the counter pinged. It was so rare that it ever made noise. In a moment that felt so strangely normal, she picked it up and looked at the notification on the screen.

“Message Received” It read. Below the title, it read “Nat: Will you please let me know you’re okay?”

In a moment, the message faded from the screen. Before she could set the phone down, her eyes were drawn to the date displayed where the message had been. November 7th.

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @usedtobegoodfriend96, @winterisakiller, @tnystrk-exe, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @carissime72, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @myoxisbroken, @wegingerangelica, @coyotesongwriting

Want in on the tag list? Feel free to drop me a line.

#clint x original character #clint barton x reader #Clint Barton x Female Reader #clint x reader #clint barton x oc #clint x ofc #clint x oc #clint x original female character #clint barton x ofc #clint barton x you

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brieannakeogh · 5 years

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Ambition, Butter, and Wine -Chapter 6

Ambition, Butter, and Wine- Kylo Ren x plus sized reader. Crack! Fic. You’re a new First Order recruit. Trained in the culinary arts at the top schools and they dare make you serve the common folk. What happens when you have the opportunity to serve Lord Ren?

Master List / Previous Chapter

Chapter 6

Blaster training was boring. All they had to shoot at was little holographic moving targets, you weren’t even shooting at an object. On top of which it had been several weeks since the little excursion you took with Lord Ren and since then you hadn’t said more than a few words to the man.

He had been working on something and seemed more irritable than normal, which you thought was an impossibility. You tried to make some of his favorites but got little more than a grunt when you would set it in front of him, usually without him even looking up from his datapad. Without the little bit of human interaction with him, it left you pretty isolated. That wasn’t a real big problem for you, but you did like to have someone to talk to sometimes.

The only time you saw anyone was when you went to stock up on ingredients and most of the time you went late in the evenings. At some point a rumor started circulating of your demise. Kylo Ren supposedly killed you in a rage, dragged you out to the woods where he cut you into little bitty pieces and left you there. You didn’t hear the rumor first hand until after you ran across a stormtrooper during rounds who shouted “Ghost!” and ran the other direction.

Becoming a ghost when you died always appealed to you, so what if you weren’t dead, it still sounded fun. Other than cooking a couple of meals and doing blaster practice, you didn’t have much to do, so you requested some white fabric and some make up that was a few shades lighter than your actual skin tone. Wandering down the halls with scraps of fabric and lighter make up after midnight was more fun than you’d realize it would be. Some troopers you passed just chuckled at your antics, others...mainly officers, gave a disapproving glare. The best were the ones that would run screaming down the halls. It was worth the little extra time getting ready in the evenings.

Lord Ren had called you to his quarters late one evening to talk about your blaster practice. The scores you were getting were being sent to his data files so he was keeping up with your non existent improvements. You had already changed into your ghost wear when the order came in, so you hightailed it the short walk to his quarters, not wanting to keep him waiting. He was still in his uniform even this late at night and you were disappointed, hoping you would see him in his pjs since you hadn’t at dinner. You also took into account the dark circles running under his eyes.

The door opened for you as you got near and when he turned to address you he stuttered to a stop mid sentence. After a brief pressure to your head, where he flipped through your mind like a book, he continued on as if nothing was amiss.

“You haven’t improved at all. I’m adding another two hours to your training time, as you obviously need more to fill it, and upping the difficulty. If I don’t see any improvements there will be consequences.”

“But it’s so boring.” You pout.

“Well let’s see how bored you be next week when we’re on another planet with hostiles all around.”

“Next week? What planet?”

“Yes we are leaving the base in four days. I don’t know yet, but I will. We have to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”

“Yes sir.”

“Dismissed.”

You turn to walk back out the door before he calls your name. “Oh, and just for a side bit of information, Hux should be leaving the command center any moment now.”

His eyes bore into yours and you understood his double meaning. A wide grin formed on your lips and a laugh was released as you made your way in the direction of the command center.

Hux ruined your fun after you scared him half to death, the look on his face was worth it and you replayed it for Lord Ren on a loop as many times as he wished. Hux had made an announcement that you were very much alive and to ignore you dressed in white. It was fun while it lasted and got you through the next few days before you boarded the starship.

Your quarters were tighter than on base and ingredients were limited. If the two of you were on the ship for more than a month you would have to get very creative with your cooking and making gourmet meals out of trooper rations.

Lord Ren had told you on the flight from the base to the starship that he still wasn’t satisfied with your current blaster skills. He had warned you of consequences but hadn’t explicitly told you what those would be, that gave you more dread than if you were waiting on actual torture. As you were still unpacking into your newly designated space, you rub your forehead with your fingertips as you remember the tone in his voice when he was telling you how poorly you’d done. Ok so maybe the ‘tone’ was all in your head since he still had that damnable mask on, but it felt like a tone.

He had apparently found what he was looking for because the day after you boarded, the ship took off out of orbit. You could tell a bit of weight was taken off his shoulders as well. He was still tense but with a purpose.

A plate of eggs and sausage was in your hand as you go through his doorway. Similar layout as what was on Starkiller base, maybe a touch smaller overall. You sit the plate down at the table and you are surprised when he walks out of the bedroom in full gear, normally waiting until after breakfast to change.

“After lunch I will be personally supervising your blaster training.” He tells you sitting down and picking up his fork. “Give it your all as you will be coming down to the surface with me tomorrow.”

“Surface?”

“Yes we will be arriving at 900 hours tomorrow, although it will be night on that planets timeline. I’m bringing three trooper squads and you. Don’t die.”

“How many days are we being deployed?” Thinking about how much you would need to pack.

“Only for a few hours, maybe less.”

“Then why am I going?”

“You’ve never been in a real battle before, correct?” You shake your head. “This will be a good test run to see how you do. See real stakes. Maybe from now on you will be a bit more disciplined when I tell you to learn something.”

You open your mouth to give a retort but he cuts it off with a look. “Yes sir.” Is what you change it to, but you can’t help but run it over in your mind. He’s putting you deliberately in harms way to test your training. You try to hide how annoyed you are as you leave his quarters.

“You won’t be in harm's way.” You freeze in shock. There hadn’t been any sort of pressure before he answered your question, you knew he was getting better at reading you. “It’s mostly villagers with few weapons and you’ll stand by me the entire time.” He paused and his voice changed to a hard simmer. “Also, if I ever hear you truly doubt or question my orders again, whether it is outloud or in your head, you’ll find you will be desperate to not make that same mistake twice. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.” The meek little noise barely registering. A surge of curiosity rushes through you as you register what he actually said. ‘But banter and genuine inquiries are acceptable?’ You thought at him.

He sighed loudly and ran his hand through his hair, tugging on it a bit in frustration. Not looking up at you he ground out, “Depends on my mood.”

“Understood.” With that you turned on your heel and walked out.

Your heart had just calmed down from that morning’s threat over breakfast when it was time to serve lunch. Additional blaster practice with Lord Ren was supposed to happen after so you took his plate of food into his quarters along with your own.

Lord Ren was sitting in a lounge chair with a datapad in his lap when the doors came open. He was mildly surprised when you walked in with two plates of food and sat at the table beside his usual spot.

“What do you think you are doing?” He asked as he sat down at the table.

“You said you would be doing a personal lesson with me after lunch, I thought this would be more efficient then one of us having to wait for the other to finish. That way you could get back to trying to take over the galaxy or whatever.” Picking up a fork and digging into your food.

Another heavy sigh escapes him as he watches you for a moment before doing the same. It’s of course good but more simple than you usually fix. Just a pasta salad and seared chicken in some sort of sauce. He finishes before you and sits impatiently while waiting for you to finish your food. Somehow you started with a smaller portion but took twice as long to eat it.

Once you finished you went to take the plates from the table, but he just told you to leave it for the cleaning droids. He lead you to a small room on portside that was similar to one of the shooting ranges on base. Starkiller was a giant carnivorous room that housed lots of different weapons training, but you could shut yourself into one lane so as not to have anyone disturb you. This was only a single room that seemed to be only equipped to handle small weapon practice.

Lord Ren had pulled on his mask before leaving his quarters so you couldn’t see his expression as he fiddled with the controls. Setting it up on probably the highest difficulty just to make you fail. “And why exactly would I want you to fail?” He asked in the robotic voice you hate, picking your thoughts up at a whim.

“I don’t know sir.” You shrug.

He rolls his eyes before taking the helmet off. It’s a confined area and he knows you dislike it.

“If you practice on the highest setting than when you go lower it will seem easy, which will raise your confidence. That is what you are lacking.” He starts the simulation and brings his own weapon up, shooting everything perfectly. “Now you try.” He starts again and you barely fire your weapon. As you get it aimed correctly, it’s already disappearing and another pops up, the process repeating over and over until the time runs out.

“Why were you not firing?” He demands.

“I have to aim first and I don’t want my accuracy rating to dwindle by missing so much.”

He sighs again, something he’s been doing more and more in your presence, pinching the bridge of his nose. His head pops up upon realizing a way to get through to you. “You’re overthinking. Tell me when you are cutting meat or vegetables do you think about where to place your hand, where to place the knife, at what angle to cut? No, you just do it.” You nod at his correct assessment, brows furrowing. “But I’ve done it for years, I didn’t start off like that.” You try to argue. He shakes his head. “The same can be applied here. The more you fire and miss the more instinctual it would be.”

“I guess that makes since.”

“Of course it does.” He’s irritated again. “Here.” He takes your arm that is holding the blaster and moves behind you. You can feel his front pressing into your back as he starts the simulation again. His command of “Fire” jolts you out of the thoughts of his warm body and he growls at you to pay attention. Restarting the program he does the same thing again, only this time when he stops the movement of your arm you pull the trigger, ending in a perfect score just like he did. He releases your arm but doesn’t step back. “Now do it again.” His hands settling on your hips, using the force to start it up again. You miss a few times to start and he can tell you’re still over thinking, so he leans down and presses his chin on your shoulder, his hot breath on the side of your face. “Stop overthinking.” He reminds you and at this point the only thought in your head is about how his thumbs are making little circles on your bare back right above your pants line.

Subconsciously you’re still moving your arm and firing at the little balls that float in your peripheral vision, but all of your thoughts are on the squeeze of his hands on your hips, the way he pulls you closer to him, and you swear he brushed his lips on your neck. You’re still fuzzy and lightheaded when the timer goes off, signalling you’re done. What wakes you up and feels like cold water thrown on your face, is when he steps back and smirks. “Best score yet. Keep it up until dinner.” He throws his helmet on and leaves before he can properly hear you shout “Asshole!” to him. Even though he couldn’t hear it from your mouth, it still rings out loud through your head, along with a few other choice curses towards him. The loud wheezing laugh startles a few troopers as he walks down the hallway.

Next Chapter

@stevieang, @albinotigerpython, @paintballkid711, @lilypalmer1987, @tnupsweetpie, @ebonyqueen-1, @mbaku-babygirl

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x plus sized reader #kylo ren #kylo x reader #plus size reader #star wars fanfiction

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theoddcatlady · 6 years

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The Grunp

The Grunp was just something my cousins and I made up while at our grandparent’s place. We went up almost every summer for a week or two at a time when we were old enough, and I think we first started telling Grunp stories when I was nine.

The Grunp’s appearance and personality would evolve and change as we got older. The first time we told stories about the Grunp, he was a naked man with one giant eye in the middle of his head. The next year, he was covered in thick, white fur, with empty holes for eyes who walked on all fours and chewed on bones.

The last year we told Grunp stories he’d finally evolved to his final state- a white, furry creature who walked on two legs, smelled like a dumpster, had two blazing orange eyes and a drooling mouth crammed full of dozens of yellowed and rotten teeth. He could climb up walls and had claws half a foot long. He hated the kids that tramped through his forests every summer and plotted to steal one away so he could skin it alive and spit roast it for a delicious meal.

One thing never changed about the Grunp though and that was that he lived in my grandparent’s old barn.

The barn was ridiculously creepy, I’ll admit. It didn’t have any light or electricity out there, hadn’t been used in years either so it was empty other than a few remaining piles of hay and a broken lawnmower. We weren’t allowed to climb into the lofts because Grandma was afraid that the old floor wouldn’t support our weight so we’d fall and break our necks. I climbed up only once because I thought I heard something.

I didn’t see anything other than a dead rat but there was a lot of unexplained sounds in that barn. That’s probably what planted the idea of the Grunp in our heads. Some unexplained monster that lurked just out of sight, full of hatred and salivating at the idea of ripping us to pieces.

Given all this, probably the shittiest thing we could do was send Sissy Sandy into the barn for a night. And that’s exactly what we did.

I was eleven at the time and most of the cousins were about that age too, except for Sandy. Sandy was only six. Unfortunately, she was the only cousin in that age group, but since the rest of us started going to grandma and grandpa’s around that age her parents sent her with us anyway. The closest cousin in age to her was Bobby and he was nine.

You can imagine how we all felt about Sandy. It didn’t help that Sandy was a crybaby. She didn’t like sleeping in the dark, so whoever had the poor luck of bunking with her had to deal with a nightlight. She didn’t like being alone. She hated bugs and if she saw one she’d start screaming like she was being murdered. And she was terrified of The Grunp.

Most of the time we’d manage to ditch her with Grandma, who would play Go Fish and bake cookies with her. But when Grandma took a nap or we didn’t escape fast enough, we’d have to deal with Sandy tagging along. And oh boy, she’d complain about everything. She was too hot, she was too cold. She didn’t want to play near the barn. She didn’t want to play in the backyard. She was hungry. She was thirsty. She was bored.

I mean, typical six year old, but all of us were tired of it. We didn’t help the situation either by constantly teasing and picking on the poor kid. I think Jay was the one who started calling her Sissy Sandy, because well, she was scared of literally everything. I’m not exaggerating when I say that Sandy was probably scared of her own shadow.

It’s probably why we’d tell the most Grunp stories when she was hanging out with us. We’d get increasingly more morbid, talking about how the Grunp liked to peel off the fingernails of his victims and make them into earrings or that he’d use them to pick the flesh of his victims from his teeth. I think one time I even said that he would hang up his living victims in his cave and wait until he was hungry before chopping off their heads and chewing off their faces.

Sandy would go green and squirm, and then when she’d start crying we’d say that the Grunp was going to get her. That would make her run back to Grandma, saying that we were being mean, while we were all laughing our asses off.

Yeah, we were jerks. Poor Sandy. She just wanted someone to play with. And she really tried her best to keep up, she was just too little and we had no intention of playing with a ‘baby’.

I don’t know whose idea was it to play Truth or Dare, but I do remember it was my turn and that Sandy was my target. Sandy had been a pain in the ass all day, tagging along and complaining more than ever, and I’d had it. I asked if she wanted a truth or a dare, and I said if she’d pick dare, she’d get to play with us all she wanted tomorrow and we’d not tell any Grunp stories or call her Sissy Sandy.

Sandy’s eyes lit up as she proclaimed dare. We’d already had a dare where I did the chicken dance or where Jay called his best female friend to tell her he had a crush on her. Surely we’d not pick anything too bad for her, right?

I dared her to spend a whole hour in the barn. Without crying and without screaming. If she chickened out, then she had to spend the rest of the week with Grandma and that she couldn’t follow us.

I’m a monster. There was no worse dare I could’ve picked. The barn was already creepy in the day, I couldn’t have been paid to go out there at night. And if Sandy turned down the dare we really would have doubled down on calling her a sissy and she knew it.

So Sandy dragged her feet out to the barn. Grandma and Grandpa had already gone to bed so there was no one to catch onto our cruel joke. Jay highfived me, Bobby was bending over with laughter, and I was standing proud, thinking I was the most clever kid out there. Mary was already betting that she wouldn’t last five minutes out there as she set the egg timer.

Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. By thirty minutes, we were all getting bored, we couldn’t hear Sandy crying and she’d yet to come out of the barn. We’d started playing Truth and Dare again and had almost completely forgot about her until the timer dinged.

I was impressed. I yelled out to Sandy that she could come out now, she wasn’t a sissy and that she could play with us tomorrow.

Sandy didn’t respond.

Figuring she’d fallen asleep, I ran out to the barn and poked my head in, calling after her again.

My heart dropped into my stomach when I saw that Sandy was nowhere to be seen. I knew she wouldn’t have climbed into the loft but I climbed up anyway to check. I came back out and everyone was starting to look a little nervous.

“Maybe she’d managed to get past us and went back to bed,” I said, attempting to reassure everyone as we headed back inside.

She wasn’t in bed. She wasn’t in the kitchen, or the basement… not like she’d go down there anyway, it was full of spiderwebs and she hated spiders most of all.

That’s when we realized something was wrong and that it was time to wake up our grandparents. We had to repeat it twice for Grandpa, he’d taken his hearing aids out before bed, but we didn’t tell the truth- we said that Sandy wanted to explore the barn and she’d not come back.

I already felt shitty for what I’d done. I felt even shittier for lying.

Cops swarmed the house, we were all counted up to make sure we were still accounted for, and we stuck to our story- Sandy went to explore the barn, she wanted to prove she wasn’t a sissy. We didn’t make her go out there.

Technically we didn’t, but I wanted to throw up every time I repeated our lie.

It’s when I overheard a conversation with one of the cops and our grandparents that I realized I had gotten my little cousin killed.

They didn’t know I was there. I was in the hall next to the kitchen, about to get a drink of water, and one of the cops was showing my Grandma a picture.

She narrowed her eyes for a few moments before she nodded. “Yes, I think I do know him! He came by a few days ago, asking for a meal, and I fixed him up with some leftovers from lunch and a slice of pie. Saw the kids p… playing… in the backyard...” Grandma went white in the face. “… Oh god, he pointed out Sandy. He… he said she looked like a real sweetie. Oh god, what have I done? What have I done?” Grandma clung onto Grandpa and began to weep.

I sunk to the floor as the cop shook his head. I found out many years later that the man in the picture was a man named Gene Hayes. A child sex offender with a preference of girls that looked like Sandy.

I didn’t know those details back then, but I knew that my little cousin had been kidnapped by a monster.

And he wouldn’t have had a chance if I hadn’t sent Sandy out to the barn alone.

I didn’t sleep that night. I just stared at the ceiling and thought about poor Sandy. How scared she would be and how I might never see her again, how it would be my fault if she never came home, how I’d never be able to face Uncle Ken and Aunt Barbara again. The next morning, before anyone was awake, I put together my next plan of action- I grabbed a baseball bat, made myself a few sandwiches, making sure to make one with grape jelly and to cut the crusts off. That way when I found Sandy she’d get something to eat.

I knew the nearby forests probably better than most of the searchers, I knew all the places people could hide. I knew I could find Sandy.

And I did… just not in the way I expected.

It was getting close to mid-afternoon when I stumbled across Hayes’ campsite. The place was a mess, beer cans piled near a burnt out firepit, muddy magazines scattered about, a small table turned over, sleeping bag crooked.

When I kicked over the sleeping bag, I realized it was soaked in blood and that there was five large slashes through it… and I saw one of Sandy’s pink hairties.

I stumbled back, falling on my ass and crawling back. My baseball bat rolled away. Had a bear gotten to Sandy’s kidnapper? Did it get Sandy?

I heard a twig snap behind me and I turned around to be face to face with The Grunp.

Our final description of him was actually pretty accurate. A bipedal, white furred creature with blood soaked claws and a drooling maw of hundreds of fangs, smelling like death and with hatred in his gaze. His eyes were a shade of yellow-green though- the color of dying grass.

And by his side was Sandy.

One of her pigtails had fallen out but the other was still tied in place. She looked pretty beat up, bruises and scratches on her arms and a busted lip and bloodied chin. She stared at me, almost as if she didn’t quite recognize me.

The Grunp carefully pushed Sandy behind him, shielding her from me. “Are you… his friend?” The Grunp asked.

Another thing that didn’t match our stories- The Grunp could talk. I shook my head no before I dug in my bag. “… Sandy? I brought you your favorite… made sure to cut off the crusts too.” I presented the sandwich, now a little squished from being in my bag all day.

Sandy blinked a few times before she smiled, revealing teeth stained bright red. “No thank you, I already ate.”

“Sandy, you don’t refuse food,” The Grunp patiently explained, taking the sandwich baggie between two of his claws and handing it to her, “You can eat it for dinner.”

Sandy nodded, clutching onto the bag. “Thank you,” She looked back up at the Grunp, “Can we go home now?”

The Grunp leaned down, carefully picking up Sandy as to not catch her on his claws, and set her on his shoulder. “Good day,” He said before he ambled off through the bushes.

And like that, he was gone.

I managed to get home by nightfall, where the search had turned into one for Sandy and me.

All I said before collapsing was, “She’s with The Grunp.”

We’ve never found Sandy. I try not to think about her, but I do, especially at night. I wonder if she’s doing okay. I wonder if she’s happy, if she’s not such a scaredy cat anymore.

And I wonder if she’s eating well.

#horror stories #scary stories #creepypasta #monsters #creative writing #writers on tumblr #my son

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mrslittletall · 6 years

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Title: Duel Gone Wrong (Chapter 19) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Artorias the Abysswalker Word Count: 2.049 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14026326/chapters/35750829 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/175954250984/title-duel-gone-wrong-chapter-18-fandom-dark

Summary: In which Artorias gets desperate.

(Author's note: This was one of the first scenes I was thinking about when coming up with this, but I pondered a long time to actually include it. Enjoy the pure and utter fluffiness.)

After the master had left him alone, Ornstein continued his search for Artorias without any success. Sighing, he stopped at the place where he normally would make the roll call with the silver knights. It was still a bit too early for them to show up and Artorias wasn't there either. Scratching his head in confusion, Ornstein tried to think of another place the wolf knight could have gone to, when he felt a sudden hug from behind and a ruffle of his hair, which made him tense up immediately.

A glance over his shoulder solved his problem of finding Artorias at least, who was the source of the mysterious snuggle. “Artorias, what are you doing?”, Ornstein asked, feeling anger rising in him.

“I can't take this anymore.”, Artorias whined. “I just have to pet something. Anything that's cute!”

“And why does that something have to be me?”, Ornstein complained. “Why don't you go pet Ciaran? She's cuter than me.” Ornstein tried to release himself from Artorias hug, but that only prompted the wolf knight to tighten his grip.

“Ciaran is too unpredictable. I fear what she could do if I suddenly snuggled with her.”, Artorias said, ruffling Ornstein's hair some more and running his fingers down the ponytail. Ornstein started to shudder, this whole situation was getting creepy.

“You really think that?”, he asked. He had the feeling, if Artorias would suddenly snuggle with Ciaran, she would drag him into her bad and gave him one hell of an assassination. “Would you please release me...? You are starting to make me feel uncomfortable...”

“I would love to.”, Artorias said. “But I can't help it, you are too cute. And I was dying touching something cute the last few days! I am touch starved! Being able to look at them but not touch them! Do you know how hard this was?” Artorias voice wavered with despair.

“Would you release me if I help you find something different cute enough to pet?”, Ornstein begged. “I don't have the feel that you are aware of it, but any tighter and you are crushing my arm a second time!”

Artorias finally let go of him, making Ornstein sigh in relief.

“I am so sorry.”, Artorias said, looking very guilty. “I don't know what came over me... Are you feeling alright?”

“The arm throbs a little.”, Ornstein said. “But otherwise I feel fine. I am more concerned about another thing, Artorias.” Ornstein shifted the gaze of his dark green eyes on the wolf knight. “You called me cute.”

“Because you are cute.”, Artorias said. “And the closest thing to a cat I could think off.”, he added.

“We definitely have to find something for you to pet.”, Ornstein said.

“Prince Gwynfor's mane for example?”, Artorias suggested.

“What? No!”, Ornstein shouted. If anyone should pet the master's mane, it should be his honour. He quickly should get this conversation into another direction.

“There are surely more cute things than cat or dogs out there. We just have to take a look around.”, Ornstein said.

“Well, in the cathedral we have our messenger birds, but...”, Artorias started.

“Yes, we are not going there.”, Ornstein said. “Let us head to the market instead. There we surely will find something for you to pet. That is not me. Or Ciaran.” 'Or the master's mane', Ornstein added mentally.

He eyed Artorias and then said: “But in civil. I don't want anyone to recognize us.”

“Oh, alright.”, Artorias said. “Just give me a moment to get changed then.”

The wolf knight left and after his large figure was gone, Ornstein noticed two of the silver knights just standing there, staring, one of them obviously trying very hard not to laugh. “Since when have you standing there?”, the captain demanded from his silver knights.

“Since Ciaran is cuter than me.”, one of them said and then both of them burst out into laughter. Ornstein glared at them.

“You will tell nobody what you have witnessed here, understood?”, he ordered them harshly. Both of the knights stopped laughing immediately.

“Of course, captain. We have never been here, captain.”, they said. Shortly after the other silver knights appeared for roll all and Ornstein made sure that the two witnesses would get a duty far far away from the other silver knights. He was sure that Artorias would have managed to change in the meantime, he watched the last silver knight leave and got to pick up the wolf knight at his room.

Shortly after, the two of them were headed to the marketplace. Ornstein had taken his old silver knight spear with him.

“Why are you carrying this around instead of your dragon slayer spear?”, Artorias asked.

“Then people assume that I am just a silver knight off duty or out of armour.”, Ornstein said. “I don't want to be recognized like this.” He raised the broken arm in demonstration and put it to rest into the sling again.

“But people will still know that's it us if we call ourselves by our names. We should come up with nicknames.”, Artorias grinned. Ornstein had the feeling that the wolf knight had far too much fun with this. “You can call me Arty. Hmmm.. And how should I refer to you?”

“Leo.”, Ornstein said without hesitation, a name he had quickly borrowed from his leo ring.

“Really? I had some great names in mind. Like Orn, Orny, Orin or Ornsty...” Artorias counted the names on his fingers.

“Definitely Leo.”, Ornstein insisted and saw how Artorias face fell.

“Aw, that's no fun.”, the wolf knight whispered.

It didn't take them long to arrived at the market. Like assumed, outside their armours the citizens didn't recognize them and just let them be. Ornstein took a look around.

“There must be a stall here that sells something cute...” He spotted something and strode towards it, dragging Artorias behind him with his left hand.

“Chicks.”, he said. “Cute enough for you?” Luckily, the flightless chicks didn't give Ornstein any trouble with his tenseness around birds. Even he had to admit that they looked cute. He could see how Artorias eyes began to sparkle at the tiny yellow fluff balls.

“They are. Excuse me, may I take a closer look at them?”, Artorias asked the stall owner and soon had a tiny chick in his hands, which he carefully stroked and stared at with big eyes.

“You can raise them to lay eggs.”, the stall owner explained. “If they grow up to be chicken of course. Roosters don't lay eggs but they make an excellent meal.” At this Artorias face froze.

“I don't want to eat it.”, he said.

“You eat meat.”, Ornstein said. “Quite regularly to be honest. It's your favourite food.”

“Well yes, but normally I don't have to raise my food before eating it.”, Artorias complained. “I think I would rather have one that could provide me with eggs. Is there a way to tell? And how much do you want for it?”, Artorias asked the stall owner.

“We are not going to buy this thing, where do you even want to keep it?”, Ornstein scolded Artorias.

“I could build them a nest in my room and I would take good care of them everyday and...”, Artorias stopped until seeing Ornstein's face glaring at him. He put the chick back. “Thanks for your time, but we have to go now.”, he said.

“Don't you at least want to buy some eggs?”, the stall owner was yelling after them.

“Maybe later.”, Ornstein shouted back. He had already targeted the next location, which was a stall which had little baby rabbits for sale.

“Look at them, aren't they cute too?”, Ornstein asked.

“I want to touch all of them!”, Artorias squeaked behind him and rushed forward to look at the tiny animals.

“I am sorry, my friend turns into an idiot when he sees something cute.”, Ornstein told the confused looking stall owner.

“Well, normally I sell them to be raised for getting eaten later...”, the stall owner started but stopped when they saw Artorias face who slowly had turned to them.

“Why does everyone today wants me to raise my own food?”

“Oh, I guess they would also make good pets for your kids... or little siblings, you seem a bit too young to already have kids.”, the stall owner quickly suggested. “Are you guys silver knights from the cathedral?”, they asked.

“Uh... yes, we are.”, Artorias quickly said after seeing Ornstein's gaze on him. “I don't have younger siblings and my parents raise dogs so I guess we shouldn't put a bunny into that situation...” He turned to Ornstein but was surprised to see the lion knight deep in thought, staring at the fluff in front of him.

“Maybe they would be a nice addition for the orphanage? It could help the kids taking responsibility and make them getting used to animals...”, he murmured to himself.

“Um, should we move on, Orns.. Ornsty?”, Artorias asked.

Ornstein got snapped out of his thought by hearing Artorias voice and promptly started to yelle “I told you to not call me that!”

The stall owner laughed: “You two are adorable. You can come back anytime when you want to buy some rabbits. I sounds like you first have to get permission. And I hope your arm will heal soon.”

Ornstein took a few steps back, starting to feel uncomfortable: “Oh, uh.. thanks, it isn't that bad, it will be fine soon.”, he said and then dragged Artorias along dying to escape this situation.

A good distance from the stall away, Ornstein stopped, panting, taking a few deep breathes. “Has it gotten too much for you? Shall we head back to the cathedral?”, Artorias asked, worry shining in his grey eyes.

“I am... fine. Just got uncomfortable for a second there.”, Ornstein answered and straightened himself up, scanning the market for another target. “Are you fine with bigger animals too? This stall sells cattle.”, he said, pointing to it with his spear.

“I don't mind the size of the animal at all, the important thing is, it has to be cute.”, Artorias answered, his mouth turning into a wide grin while he strode towards the stall. “Excuse me, could I take a look at your wares?”, he asked. Ornstein silently followed him, watching the young cow closely who greatly seemed to enjoy to be petted by Artorias.

“She has just given birth, so is ready to be milked.”, the stall owner explained. They scanned the two knights and then added: “Although, you don't look like farmers. With your size you are most certainly soldiers, I guess silver knights from the cathedral. Are you looking for a gift for your families?”

“Something like that...”, Ornstein answered, getting aware how ridiculous they had to look, walking from stall to stall at the market and petting animals. And it only got worse, when two silver knights on patrol walked by and noticed them.

“Captain Ornstein, Sir Artorias, what are you doing here? In civil?”, one of them asked. This raised all red flags for Ornstein. Before the stall owner or the silver knights could say anything more, he had grabbed Artorias arm and dragged him off the market place.

“Shall we head back now?”, Artorias asked. “I think I petted enough cute things now to last for the rest of the week. And if not, I know where to look now.”

Ornstein opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a loud growl of his stomach before he could say anything, making his face flash red. “Oh right, I didn't had any breakfast yet.”, he murmured. “And I haven't eaten much since yesterday...”

“You know what? Let me treat you for breakfast as thanks.”, Artorias said. “I could use something to eat too.”

“I kinda have the feeling we won't eat chicken or rabbit or steak...”, Ornstein pondered while following Artorias, looking forward to a nice breakfast. (Author's note: The nicknames which Arty is suggesting for Orn are ones that actual people of the fandom are using. Can you recognize yourself?) Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/176449893949/title-duel-gone-wrong-chapter-20-fandom-dark

#dark souls #fanfiction #dragon slayer ornstein #artorias the abysswalker #littlewritesstuff #honestly I love all your nicknames for Ornstein #makes me sad that I only use the generic Orn

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travelingtheusa · 6 years

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NORTH DAKOTA

28 Aug 2018 (Tue) – We made sandwiches, packed a cooler, and took off for Theodore Roosevelt National Park today. Unfortunately, the weather was drizzly and overcast all day. That limited visibility of the surrounding area. Since this is our last day in the area, we just had to deal with it.

We drove along the loop road, stopping at pullouts to see what we could see. We hiked two trails then sat at an overlook and enjoyed lunch while the rain picked up a bit. During our drive we spotted pronghorn, three different herds of bison, several prairie dog towns, Nokotas (wild horses), and an elk. When we emerged from the park, we fueled the truck and returned to the campground.

27 Aug 2018 (Mon) – It was cool, rainy, and overcast all day. We decided to keep our activities indoors. First stop was at Theodore’s Dining Room in the local hotel. It was a breakfast buffet with very good food. There were four kinds of eggs (one had crab), bacon, sausage, hash browns, waffles, and granola with fruit. It was a little expensive but very enjoyable.

After breakfast, we walked around town a little then toured the Cowboy Hall of Fame. There were all kinds of stories of horses, cowboys, ranches, and competitions. Videos recounted stories of experiences by early settlers and their descendants. After the museum, we walked along the main street. Harold Schafer came to this town in the early-1960s and restored much of the town of Medora. He renovated/rebuilt many of the buildings in town and bought the existing amphitheater. He updated the seating and property, and brought a new, flashier show to the outdoor stage. Medora sits at the entrance to Theodore Roosevelt National Park and Harold envisioned a popular tourist town that people would want to visit and stay at.

Medora’s claim to fame is that Theodore Roosevelt came here back in the late-1800s. He fell in love with the place and bought two cattle ranches. They say he claimed that the time he spent in the Badlands of North Dakota prepared him for his role as president. His nickname was Old Four Eyes. He was disturbed about overhunting of wildlife on the range and the rapidly disappearing buffalo. Roosevelt wanted future generations to be able to enjoy the Wild West that he knew and loved. As President of the U.S., he was first to set aside national parkland. During his presidency, he preserved millions of acres of land, thereby ensuring that future generations would be able to enjoy the wonders of nature and the wildlife that inhabits it.

We drove to the Marquis de Homes, the home of the founder of Medora. He and his wife traveled from France. The Marquis was enamored by the stories of the Wild West and he wanted to be a cattle rancher. He came here, established a cattle ranch and meat packing plant, and named the town after his wife. His idea was to raise and slaughter cattle at one place, then ship the meat back east. It turned out to be more profitable than driving cattle hundreds of miles.

We drove into Theodore Roosevelt National Park to the visitor’s center. We wanted to get some information about hiking trails and the scenic drive. Hopefully, the weather will be more pleasant tomorrow and we can explore the park.

Last stop was at a local convenience store (the nearest grocery store is 35 miles away) to pick up some groceries. They didn’t have much so we only picked up water and lunch meat.

26 Aug 2018 (Sun) – We packed up and left Bismarck at 10:30 a.m. It was a short hour and a half to our next campground. About three fourths of the way here, we stopped at a visitor’s center called Painted Canyon. What an amazing change of scenery! Behind the center was a landscape of ravines and hills with remarkable colors. We were driving along looking at flat farm land with wheat fields and sunflower crops. This was quite a change in geography. Usually these things change slowly but this was a rapid change. After we left the center, the landscape quickly morphed into colorful hills and canyons.

We pulled into Medora Campground around noon. It is a large campground with red dirt roads and campsites. There are some trees to provide shade. The sites are close and the neighbor’s sewer hookup is right outside our door. They could have laid the campground out better.

As soon as we were set up, we did the laundry. The laundry room was a pretty good size with six washers and four dryers. No one else was in there so we were able to use three washers.

At 5:00 p.m. we drove to the Pitchfork Steak Fondue across the road. We had called and made reservations the day before yesterday. When we walked into the dining area, we saw dozens of picnic tables. They could probably seat 2,000 people. There were pitchforks with steaks already impaled and waiting to be cooked. There was also a large buffet area for the sides that were being served with the steaks. We got wine at a small stand, claimed our table, and waited for the meal to start. There was a small 4-person band playing country music in the center of the pavilion. When the word went out that it was time to eat, everyone lined up. We got a stamp on our hand but never had to use it so I’m not sure why we got it. The buffet included a baked potato, baked beans, Texas toast, cole slaw, broccoli & cauliflower, carrots, tomatoes, and ranch dressing. After loading up on sides, we walked over to the cook area and got our steak. There were probably a quarter of the people they would usually have on a holiday weekend. Lots of tables were empty or had only one or two couples at them.

At 6:30 p.m. everyone moved over to the outdoor amphitheater. It was a huge seating area cut right into the side of the mountain. The stage had tracks that allowed the scenery to slide sideways and the band stand to slide forward. The show was every bit as good as Opryland. It was very professional and the singers and dancers were very talented. There were two co-hosts – Cowboy Chet Wollan and Bill Sorensen. Wollan sang and danced right along with the accompanying performers. The comic, Kermit Apio (from Hawaii), was hysterical. I never laughed so hard at a comedian before. The weather was a little cool. As the sun set, the temperature dropped and many people had blankets they had brought. We wore jackets but would have appreciated a blanket ourselves. The show ran from 7:30 to 10:00 p.m.

25 Aug 2018 (Sat) – We went to Fort Abraham Lincoln today. The Custer House was a recreation of the house General Custer and his wife lived in but all the furnishings and clothing belonged either to them or from that time period (1870s). The CCC built several buildings on the former compound grounds. There was a large granary, a barracks with mess hall, a stable, and a commissary that had a snack bar, library, gift shop, and restrooms. We had a hot dog for lunch. I’m not really sure what it was we ate. The dogs they gave us were red. They put some kind of dye in them. I was afraid they were soy dogs. We just ate them. We then drove to the visitors center where they had a replica of the Slant Indian Village. There were six earth lodges. They were full size mounds made from logs, branches, and dirt. They were circular in design and had a fire pit in the center of the lodge with an opening in the roof.

It rained again last night but there was (thankfully) no thunder and lightning. I don’t know why it seems to only rain at night here.

24 Aug 2018 (Fri) – The most ferocious thunderstorm rolled through during the night. The first boom literally lifted me out of the bed. I have never experienced a storm like that one. There was no wind and very little rain but there was lots of lightning. So much that it was like daylight. The thunder was explosive and had a concussive effect. The thunder rumbled for close to a minute. The storm was both exhilarating and frightening.

We went to breakfast at Ramkota Hotel in their Seasons Café. The food was very good and the ambiance was very attractive. They definitely like dark wood. We then went to the Dakota Heritage Center right next to the capitol building. It had a lot of interesting displays, artifacts, and exhibits but it was laid out in a very confusing way. We left the center and drove to Longhorn Steakhouse for lunch. Then we stopped in at Captain Jack’s to pick up some wine and at Target to get groceries. We ran out of rice for Bonnie and were giving her dry dog food with her boiled chicken. Unfortunately, she got diarrhea so we need to put her back on the rice. She has developed a really sensitive stomach.

After dinner, we worked on the mapping the route for our Utah caravan next year.

23 Aug 2018 (Thu) – We left Garrison around 10:30 a.m. There were a few sprinkles on the way but the weather was basically clear. In an hour and a half, we arrived at General Sibley Park & Campground in Bismarck. This is a great campground! The campsites are very roomy but only have electric hookup. We had to stop on the way in to fill our tank with fresh water. There are many trees in the campground but all the underbrush has been cut away and the grass mowed so everything looks open.

After set up, we drove into the city and took a tour of the capitol building. It has a two story building with an 18-story tower added on. We met the tour guide in the lobby and joined two other couples for a tour of the building. She took us first to the original part. It was like walking into the land of Oz. The hallway ceiling was 40’ and set in an art deco style. We looked into the Senate and the House chambers. They only meet every other year so they vote in a two-year budget. How do they legislate an entire state if they only meet bi-annually?

Next was a ride up to the 17th floor to the overview. We walked out on the deck and admired the view of the surrounding area. It seemed like you could see forever.

After the tour of the capitol, we took a tour of the former Governor’s Mansion. Then we went to lunch at the Blarney Stone Pub. I had Shepherd’s Pie and Paul had a pasta dish. Everything was very good. We then found a post office to mail off some post cards then returned to the campground.

22 Aug 2018 (Wed) – We drove around the area today. First stop was at the Custer Coal Mine. It was not owned by General George Custer. The placards at the area didn’t really explain why it got the name it did. It was a strip mining operation that mined coal. There was a small pond to look at.

We then drove to Fort Stevenson. One building was on site with display items telling the history of the fort. The actual fort is two miles northwest of the site under water. Nothing of the original fort remains. This was the last place General George Custer stayed before he rode off to the Battle of Little Bighorn.

After the fort, we drove around the state campground. They have over 100 campsites and only three campers. Apparently this is now their slow season. The campgrounds only fill up on the weekends. We guessed that is because North Dakota is so far north that many families cannot camp here and make it back home in time for school. As a matter of fact, the North Dakota state college classes started this week. Guess it’s the same across the country. K-12 usually starts the day after Labor Day.

Next, we drove into the town of Garrison. It was small but cute. After lunch at Ye Olde Malt Shoppe, we strolled up and down the main street. Lots of businesses called themselves Ye Olde ____. There was also a bottle shop. In this state, there are no liquor stores. They are called bottle shops. These shops are usually attached to a bar where liquor is served.

Last stop was at Krause’s Market. It was a small supermarket but we were able to pick up just about everything we needed. We came home and grilled corn on the cob. It was just like back home. The corn was delicious. Unfortunately, the flies are horrible. At they aren’t mosquitoes. After spending most of the meal swatting the flies away, we put a corn cob at the end of the table. The flies happily swarmed on it and mostly left us alone for the rest of the meal.

This has been such a lovely campground. The weather has been perfect. The haze from the fires out west were washed out by the last storm and we now have partly cloudy to clear skies. It’s been in the high 40s in the morning and in the high 70s to low 80s during the day. We can sit on the lake shore and watch the birds swimming in the water and the little chipmunk-like animals scramble among the rocks lining the shoreline.

21 Aug 2018 (Tue) – We packed up and left Minot AFB at 10:45 a.m. The weather was good and we arrived at our next stop in East Totten Trail Campground at 12:15 p.m. It is an Army Corps of Engineers site on Lake Audubon. This is one of the nicest campsites we have been in for a long time. We back up right on to the lake shore. The sites are spacious with plenty of room for the picnic table and barbecue.

On the other side of the causeway is Lake Sakakawea (we pronounce it Sacajawea everywhere else). This is the third largest reservoir in the United States. Garrison Dam is the fifth largest earthen dam in the world. The lake is 178 miles long and 14 miles wide. The dam itself is two and half miles long and 210 feet high. We drove around the area looking at the dam and spillway. There is also the Audubon National Wildlife Refuge on the lake.

Next stop was at the Garrison Dam National Fish Hatchery. Unfortunately, we stopped there 15 minutes before the tank buildings were closing. We rushed through them to look at the fish. There were burbot, trout, paddlefish, and two kinds of sturgeon. The pallid sturgeon is on the brink of extinction. The only thing that has saved it is its longevity. When the dams were built on the Missouri River, it disrupted the spawning habits of the fish. It took 20 years to realize that the pallid sturgeon were dying off and another ten years to react and get a program in place. The fish live 80 to 100 years. They have to capture fish and take blood samples to find out their gender. The hatchery takes sperm from males and freezes it. When they get females, they get them to lay their eggs (spawn) and then use the sperm to fertilize the eggs. It sounds like such a complicated process. Only about 35% of the little fish released into the river survive.

After looking in the tanks, we went back into the visitor’s center and spoke with the docents in the building. It turned out that they are volunteering to help out at the hatchery for the season as part of a workkamping program (many people do workkamping). The husband and wife were both retired servicemembers. We spoke about travelling around the U.S. and serving in the military.

When we left the hatchery, we drove into the nearby town of Coleharbor. It was very small and had no grocery store, no post office, no restaurants, no nothing. We then drove to the other side of the lake to the town of Riverside. It was basically the same thing – a small town with nothing. At the entrance to the campground, there is a service station and an eatery. We had dinner at the Totten Trail Bar & Grill.

Later, after we got back to the campground and spent an hour on the phone trying to get the Dish satellite working, we visited with the couple next to us. They started full timing a year ago. We exchanged stories of places to see and things to do.

20 Aug 2018 (Mon) – We drove to the Scandinavian Heritage Park this morning. It claims to be the only park in the world that represents all five Scandinavian/Nordic countries. There is a visitor’s center at the front of the park and a plaza with the flags of all five nations. All of them have the same design with different colors – a solid color background with a cross. Denmark is a white cross on a red field. Finland is a light blue cross on a white field. Iceland has a red flag bordered in white on a dark blue field. Norway’s flag is a blue cross bordered in white on a red background. And Sweden is a golden yellow cross on a light blue field. We wondered if all these countries were once a single nation before dividing into separate entities. Why do they all have the same design?

At any rate, there were several different items around the park depicting items from the Scandinavian countries: statues of Hans Christian Anderson, Sondre Norheim (the father of modern skiing), and Casper Oimoen (an Olympic skier); a 30-foot tall Dala horse (a Swedish symbol); replicas of the Gol Stave Church from Norway and a Stabbur (storehouse from Norway). There was a Sigdal House that was dismantled in Norway and shipped to Minot where it was reassembled. There were various artifacts in different buildings showcasing beautiful handiwork – knitting, woodwork, trolls, etc. We strolled around the park enjoying the exhibits for two hours.

We then went to lunch. Unfortunately, there were no restaurants serving Scandinavian food. That seemed weird. In fact, most restaurants in the area were national food chain stores – Olive Garden, Appleby’s, etc. We went to a place called the Starving Rooster, a bar café. I had a Caesar salad and Paul had some kind of pasta dish. It was ok but not what we wanted.

After lunch, we drove to the Dakota Territory Air Museum. There were a few military aircraft and lots of civilian planes on display. Other artifacts were on display as well. One interesting fact we learned was that two days before D-Day, a directive came down from HQs instructing that all aircraft be painted with three white stripes and two black stripes on the wings (top and bottom) and on the fuselage. They expected the skies to be crowded with aircraft and wanted the pilots to be able to easily identify the friendly planes. Very ingenious.

When we returned to the campground, Paul washed the truck and trailer.

19 Aug 2018 (Sun) – A vicious thunderstorm rolled through last night. It lasted for more than an hour. At times, there was so much heat lightning that it seemed like daytime - split occasionally by bolts of lightning.

We packed up and left Grand Forks at 9:45 a.m. The rain cleared out some of the haze and the skies were partly cloudy during our ride to Minot. We stopped in Rugby to get pictures at the geographical center of North America. The marker was next to a Mexican Restaurant so we bought lunch while there. They must make out like bandits because of the monument.

It was more than four hours to the Air Force Base. When we arrived, the Outdoor Rec office was closed. We pulled into an open campsite. There are six back-in sites in a parking lot with electric and water hookups. A dump station is down the road. There is a large playground in back of the parking area. Several prairie dogs holes dot that area.

18 Aug 2018 (Sat) – We’ve been getting alerts about poor air quality. Fires in California, Idaho, Montana, and Canada are sending smoke and dirt particulates into the air. The sky has been hazy even though the weather service has been predicting sunny days.

We packed up and left Monticello at 9:50 a.m. Traffic was easy and we arrived in about two hours at Grand Forks AFB FamCamp. The campground reminds me of Fort Drum’s campground. It’s kind of remote and at the end of the base. There are only a few campers here. They have 61 campsites – 21 are full hookup and the rest are for tents (or boondocking). We have electric and water. We didn’t bother connecting the sewer since we are only here for one night. Paul chose a site right next to the bathhouse so we’re trying to use their toilet instead of ours.

Once set up, we drove about 25 minutes into the city of Grand Forks. It is a pretty old town with lots of historical buildings. We ate at the Rhombus Guys Brewing Company. The service was horrendous. There was a bridal shower going on but the place never called in extra help. It was almost an hour and a half before we got our food. People who came in after us got their food before us and we got our food before people who were seated before us. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason as to how the kitchen was preparing the food. They were quick to jump in and serve another beer when Paul finished the first but other than that, the waitress barely came by the table. It was like she was avoiding us. Probably embarrassed about the long delay.

After lunch, we walked along the main street and riverwalk. A memorial tower had been erected in the park to commemorate five floods that have devastated the town. There were various high water marks on the tower, the highest point occurring in 1997. As a result, they built a dike system to hold back rising waters.

On the way back, we stopped at a department store called Home of Economy (weird name, right?). There were no coffee makers with thermal carafe so we drove to WalMart. There, we found a Black & Decker coffee maker just as we wanted. We bought it and returned to the campground then did our laundry on site.

17 Aug 2018 (Fri) – We drove a half hour into Fargo to go to the Fargo Air Museum. It was small and contained within two hangars. There were about a dozen planes. A lot of the exhibits were devoted to aerobatic planes with a few military aircraft on display. Many uniforms and military paraphernalia were also on display. A B25 used by four governors was available for visitors to walk into and look around.

We left the museum and drove to the Border Town Bar & Grill for lunch. We enjoyed a taco lavosh. It was like a pizza but made with a cracker crust. It was good. The waitress had a chip on her shoulder and our service suffered for it. She was one of two girls serving tables and we guessed someone didn’t show up for work or she might have been directed to do something she didn’t like. Either way, she was certainly letting the patrons know she was not happy.

After lunch, we stopped at an RV dealer to look at some ice fishing trailers. We have seen many up north here and wanted to see what they looked like inside. They’re kind of cool. There are bunks and kitchens and bathrooms and sealed holes in the floor. One just had a toilet seat with a space underneath where you would put a bucket. Another had a regular toilet system with a dump valve. Some had heat, water, a microwave, and a refrigerator. All the holes in the floor each had a light directed at the hole. I guess so you could see into the hole when you fish. People have been using these “ice houses” as regular campers. We have spotted several in campgrounds.

Next, we drove to Bonanzaville. It is a collection of historical buildings and artifacts dating back to settler days. It is called Bonanzaville because North Dakota used to be known for its Bonanza farms. There were small farms that were basically self-subsisting and then there were large farms that produced more than they needed. Those were called Bonanza farms. We strolled along the streets wandering in and out of the old buildings, admiring the exhibits on display. It was pretty large and took us a couple of hours to go through everything. A Telephone Museum showed the progression of telecommunications. Some kids were having fun playing with the phones. There were a couple of phones set up to call each other. You could dial a phone across the room, listen to the clicks and whirs of a switching station, hear the telephone ring, then talk to the person who picked up the phone at the other end. There was also an air museum, a car museum, and a kind of catchall museum with unusual items on display (a glove stretcher, a wooden fishhook from Alaska, pipes from Norwegian settlers, a square knife strop, a dress lifter for ladies crossing muddy streets, etc.). It was an interesting afternoon.

16 Aug 2018 (Thu) – We pulled up stakes and left Monticello, MN, at 9:20 a.m. It was 220 miles to Casselton, ND, about 20 miles west of Fargo. The hotel is a Days Inn but the adjacent campground is called Governors Drive RV Park. The sites are close and paved with gravel. We have a pull through with full hookups. There are about 40 campsites in the campground.

We stopped at a rest area around noon to make lunch. When we were finished with our sandwiches, we continued on to our destination. The weather was perfect and the traffic was mostly not a problem (we had a brief hold up for some construction on I-94). We checked in at the desk in the hotel and then got set up. Then we drove to Fargo to pick up some groceries. We also stopped in at the Information Center and got a map and other brochures about the state. There was a wood chipper with a fake leg in it for visitors to take pictures with. This is intended for those persons who watched the movie, Fargo. In the movie, a crook puts his unfortunate partner in the wood chipper. The sheriff comes along just as he’s pushing the last leg into the machine. The funny thing about it all is that the movie was not filmed in Fargo at all. It was filmed in a town up on the Canadian border and in Minnesota. The clerk recommended Kroll’s Diner for lunch. We went to the diner. It was a 50’s style diner with a counter on one side and booths on the other side. We had a cheese button (similar to a pierogi but four times the size and deep fried) and something unpronounceable. It was like a thin slice of meatloaf inside a pastry that was deep fried. After lunch, we picked up groceries at WalMart then returned to Casselton.

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livingcorner · 3 years

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How to Keep Snakes Out of Your Garden – Gardening Channel

by Matt Gibson

You're reading: How to Keep Snakes Out of Your Garden – Gardening Channel

If you’re trying to keep snakes out of your garden, we certainly don’t blame you. Unfortunately snakes love to hang out in areas that are covered in a dense array of plants. They are drawn to spots where there is plenty of foliage that can serve as camouflage while they sneak up close enough to their prey to strike. They also prefer densely canopied areas because the coverage provides shade to cool their skins while the weather is warm. Snakes love a location that is an abundant source of food.

Unfortunately, these preferences mean that your garden is most likely a paradise to the eye of both venomous and non-venomous snakes alike. This article will cover the best strategies for keeping these reptilian rascals from making your garden their home.

So what makes your garden such a perfect habitat for snakes? Gardens are usually packed full of plants that cover the ground and provide both shade and plenty of hiding places. Most gardens also have at least one or two beds that are devoted to food production, whether that means fruits or vegetables, and some also have an herb garden. Even gardens that are completely devoted to blossoms and blooms still most likely contain plenty of plants that would make a great meal for a snake. In addition, gardens are usually a hotspot for rodents and other small prey that a snake can add to their feast on if they are not in the mood for simply a light salad.

Luckily, there are steps that gardeners can take to make their yards less attractive to serpents. There are even plants you can grow that will make snakes think twice about making your garden their home—or even just a comfortable place to spend an afternoon.

Read on to learn all about how to keep snakes out of your garden, and you’ll also pick up a few steps you can take to deter these pests before they become an issue. If you’ve already spotted snakes in your garden beds, this article will teach you a few tricks to send them packing quickly in search of a friendlier place to set up shop.

Tips to Keep Snakes Out of the Garden

Mow and Tidy Up the Lawn

Snakes love nothing more than to slither through tall grass undetected. Piles of rocks, wood, and other debris have lots of crevices and crannies that make a perfect place for snakes to hide between or underneath. Eliminate this allure by cleaning up the ground in your yard, removing any and all unneeded debris, and mowing the grass regularly. Snakes are not likely to stick around your yard when every spot they can find exposes them to the elements. If they were safe and sound under a blanket of grass and debris, and find one day it’s all of a sudden clean and tidy, snakes will pack up and leave in a hurry.

Read more: Foxes, cats and squirrels: how to deter them from your garden – Which? News

Keep Hedges and Bushes Clean, Too

Small prey, such as mice and frogs, tend to seek out the shelter of hedges, shrubs, or bushes to hide from predators and relax in the shaded areas that these small, ornamental garden fixtures provide. To make these spots less of an all-you-can-eat prey buffet for snakes, clean out the dead leaves and other debris that tends to accumulate underneath bushes and shrubs. If the small prey have no place to hide, they will move on. Once your garden area is lacking small prey for snakes to devour, they will search out places that are more accommodating to their appetites.

Check Structures for Gaps or Holes

Check the foundation around your home for small openings and gaps where snakes and other tiny reptiles can slide in and start setting up homes for their families. Also check for cracks underneath the doors of your garage, tool shed, storm shelter, or other structures on your property. When cleaning up the lawn, pay special attention to clearing debris away from structures as well. Inspect the outside of your home for small holes and cracks, then seal them up for protection against any unwanted houseguests—especially the snakes that are so attracted to these nooks and crannies.

Collect Eggs Before Snakes Have a Chance

Snakes thoroughly enjoy chicken eggs, and they have often been spotted lurking around chicken coops, waiting for the chance to fill up on their favorite protein source. Once snakes have already found your chicken coop and successfully snagged a meal or two made of your chickens’ prized eggs, the snakes will keep returning to see whether another treat is on the menu. If snakes have already infiltrated your chicken house, you may want to move the coop entirely to throw them off course. Alternatively, you can be sure to always collect your eggs regularly and never give a snake the opportunity to feed again. They will eventually get tired of striking out and lose interest in hunting around your chickens and their eggs.

Mulch With Rough, Jagged Materials

No one likes stepping on broken glass or rolling around in a bed of sharp rocks or thorns—and snakes are no different. Their sensitive scales do not like to travel over sharp surfaces. Therefore, one great way to deter garden snakes is to add a top layer of a rough, sharp mulch to your garden beds that they’ll find uninviting. Use natural materials, such as pine cones, sharp rocks, eggshells, or holly leaves, and lay out a surface that no snake would choose to slither across.

Use a Nontoxic Snake Repellent

Repellents are often packed full of potentially harmful chemicals that you don’t want anywhere near the garden where you grow your food. These chemical repellents can also be a problem if you have pets, who are susceptible to harm due to exposure to toxic chemicals because of their small size and tendency to eat whatever they find on the ground. Luckily, there are some nontoxic snake repellents available on the market that will effectively deter snakes from your garden—while at the same time keeping your pets, friends, family, and yourself safe from exposure to harmful chemicals and toxins.

Granular snake repellent can be sprinkled all around the garden, along the sidewalk, and around the foundation of the house. It can also be used to create a barrier around any structure that you want to deter snakes from entering. Treat your garden and other high-traffic areas on your property with granular snake repellent once every two to three weeks until your yard has been free of snake sightings for a while.

Target Other Pests

Most snakes are predators. They survive off of small prey, such as mice, moles and rats, as well as an array of insects, including crickets, grasshoppers, snails and slugs. If your garden area is free from the small prey and insects that snakes love to eat, they will have no reason to stick around and starve. Once you get rid of their food sources, the snakes in your garden will go somewhere else in search of more abundant sources of food.

Cultivate Plants That Deter Snakes Naturally

Luckily, gardeners have access to some of the best weapons out there when it comes to fighting unwanted garden visitors. We’re talking about the plants that have evolved to repel pests on their own in various ways, such as with strong odors or sharp thorns and leaves. The four plants we’ve listed below are great choices to keep snakes moving along past your garden. Choosing one or two of these may do the trick to prevent a snake infestation from occurring, but growing all four of these plants should do the trick to keep snakes away and send any current reptilian garden occupants slithering away in search of some new digs.

Lemongrass:

West Indian lemongrass produces a strong citrus smell that deters snakes. The pungent aroma that lemongrass creates (similar to lemon) doesn’t just ward off serpents, though. It can also drive away pesky mosquitoes and even disease-carrying ticks. As if you needed any more reasons to add lemongrass to your garden arsenal, it’s also drought resistant, easy to grow, and its foliage makes it a pleasant addition to any garden.

Onions and Garlic:

Onion and garlic plants emit a smell that is not only unpleasant to snakes, it also disorients them. Garlic, especially, is effective at fending off snakes. As they slide over a clove’s papery husk, the oily residue of the garlic gets on their skin, and this oil affects the snake in the same way slicing an onion affects a sensitive-eyed chef. Snakes react to garlic oil as if it were pepper spray. They will leave your property quickly, and likely take the memory with them as a lasting reminder of why they should not return.

Snake Plant:

Read more: 5 Ways to Keep Snakes Out of Your Garden

Also known as mother-in-law’s tongue, the snake plant is a great garden addition as a way to keep snakes away. Just the sight of this plant’s sharp leaves and striking appearance is actually said to frighten snakes away from the general vicinity where it grows.

Marigolds:

The marigold has a deep-growing and aggressive root system that emits a smell that keeps snakes moving along, and it has the same effect on many other garden pests, such as gophers and moles. The brightly colored flowers and pungent aroma attract beneficial insects and pollinators, like birds, butterflies, and bees, while driving away pests large and small.

Videos about deterring snakes from your garden?

Check out this informative list of plants that deter snakes:

youtube

This video reviews several popular snake repellents and lets you know which ones actually work to keep snakes and other reptiles out of your yard:

youtube

Want to learn more about deterring snakes from your garden?

Gardening Know How covers Getting Rid Of Garden Snakes – How To Keep Snakes Out Of Garden For GoodHGTV covers How to Keep Snakes Out of Your Garden Huffington Post Life covers 5 Ways to Keep Snakes Out of the House and Yard this Spring I Must Garden covers How to Repel Snakes Pests.org covers Best Plants to Naturally Repel Snakes The Spruce covers How to Get Rid of Snakes Naturally

Source: https://livingcorner.com.au Category: Garden

source https://livingcorner.com.au/how-to-keep-snakes-out-of-your-garden-gardening-channel/

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kaitieedoll · 6 years

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150 Questions

1. Who was the last person you held hands with? My mom

2. Are you outgoing or shy? Shy

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? I don’t know.

4. Are you easy to get along with? Not really.

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? Yes.

6. What kind of people are you attracted to? People who are the perfect package - kind, sweet, smart and funny.

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? Yes.

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? My boyfriend.

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Fuck no.

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Again, my boyfriend.

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? That is private.

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

Cry Baby by The Neighbourhood

Dead Girl Walking from Heathers the Musical

Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd

Electricity by Ashley Jana

Danny Don’t You Know by Ninja Sex Party

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? Yes but only certain people.

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? Yeah

15. What good thing happened this summer? Idk

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Hopefully I’ll kiss him for the rest of my life.

17. Do you think there is life on other planets? Absolutely.

18. Do you still talk to your first crush? No

19. Do you like bubble baths? Yessss

20. Do you like your neighbors? One house

21. What are your bad habits? I bite my nails, pick my skin, crack my knuckles, don’t eat, binge, steal etc.

22. Where would you like to travel? New York City

23. Do you have trust issues? Yes

24. Favorite part of your daily routine? Sleep

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? My belly or thighs, probably thighs.

26. What do you do when you wake up? Check my phone.

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? Lighter even though I’m pretty pale. I just love that aesthetic.

28. Who are you most comfortable around? I don’t know

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? I don’t have any exes.

30. Do you ever want to get married? Yes

31. Is your hair long enough for a pony tail? Technically

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? Winona Ryder, Chris Hemsworth, all the Guardians of the Galaxy, either Fanning sister, Ryan Reynolds, Jenna Marbles and her boyfriend Julien, ¾ of the Try Guys, every member past and present of Game Grumps and Tom Holland

33. Spell your name with your chin. I*qa75 (That’s supposed to be Kait)

34. Do you play sports? What sports? No but I want to dance

35. Would you rather live without TV or music? TV

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? No, I’m pretty straightforward about crushes.

37. What do you say during awkward silences? Nothing.

38. Describe your dream girl/guy? My boyfriend

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? I love Target, Walmart and other stores like that.

40. What do you want to do after high school? Become a parent and a writer

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? Depends

42. If you’re being extremely quiet what does it mean? I don’t know man

43. Do you smile at strangers? Sometimes!

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? Neither

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? I have no clue

46. What are you paranoid about? Everything.

47. Have you ever been high? Nope.

48. Have you ever been drunk? Tipsy but not drunk.

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? Nah

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? Red

51. Ever wished you were someone else? Yes

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? My hair length or weight

53. Favourite makeup brand? None I hate makeup.

54. Favourite store? Target

55. Favourite blog? I really loved imperfect-nights but that was my blog

56. Favourite colour? Red

57. Favourite food? Hot cheeto puffs

58. Last thing you ate? A greek salad

59. First thing you ate this morning? Dinner

60. Ever won a competition? For what? I won a reading contest once!

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? Nope

62. Been arrested? For what? Nope

63. Ever been in love? Yes

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? It was my first time seeing my boyfriend in years and it was super cute and awkward

65. Are you hungry right now? No

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? I have no tumblr friends

67. Facebook or Twitter? Facebook

68. Twitter or Tumblr? Tumblr

69. Are you watching tv right now? No

70. Names of your bestfriends? Melissa

71. Craving something? What? HOT CHEETO PUFFS

72. What colour are your towels? Purple at my dad’s but orange at my mom’s

72. How many pillows do you sleep with? I have a lot but I don’t sleep with my head on them

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? Yes

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? A lot

75. Favourite animal? Polar bears or cats

76. What colour is your underwear? Pink

77. Chocolate or Vanilla? It really depends on the mood I’m in!

78. Favourite ice cream flavour? Cookies and Creme, Mint Chip, Cookie Dough, Chocolate Panda Paws and Chocolate Peanut Stampede are my favorites.

79. What colour shirt are you wearing? Grey

80. What colour pants? Black! They’re literally the comfiest leggings on planet earth! They’re from Charlotte Russe.

81. Favourite tv show? Dance Moms

82. Favourite movie? Heathers

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? Mean Girls

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? Mean Girls

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? Janis

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? Pearl

87. First person you talked to today? Melissa, my best friend

88. Last person you talked to today? Ethan, my boyfriend

89. Name a person you hate? I don’t know, I dislike a lot of people but I don’t like saying names of people I hate

90. Name a person you love? Isabella, my sweet little niece.

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? No

92. In a fight with someone? No

93. How many sweatpants do you have? A lot but I wish I had more

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? A lot as well but also wish I had more.

95. Last movie you watched? Love, Simon

96. Favourite actress? Winona Ryder

97. Favourite actor? Chris Pratt

98. Do you tan a lot? Never

99. Have any pets? Yes! My family has a cat named Hunter but I have a winter white dwarf hamster called Oreo Salinger

100. How are you feeling? I don’t know how I’m feeling

101. Do you type fast? Yes, very fast. I am a writer after all.

102. Do you regret anything from your past? No, mistakes make us who we are. The one thing I genuinely want to change is one time I told my niece, who was six months old and sick, I hated her because she sneezed in my face.

103. Can you spell well? Yes

104. Do you miss anyone from your past? My grandmothers, who have both passed

105. Ever been to a bonfire party? No

106. Ever broken someone’s heart? No

107. Have you ever been on a horse? I think?

108. What should you be doing? I don’t know

109. Is something irritating you right now? Nope

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? Yes

111. Do you have trust issues? Yes

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? My mom

113. What was your childhood nickname? Kaitie

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? Yes! I’ve been to Pennsylvania twice now!

115. Do you play the Wii? Yeah

116. Are you listening to music right now? I wish, but I don’t know what to listen to so no

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? Yeah

118. Do you like Chinese food? Yes but only shrimp egg rolls

119. Favourite book? The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger

120. Are you afraid of the dark? Not unless I’m walking up a flight of stairs

121. Are you mean? Not really

122. Is cheating ever okay? No

123. Can you keep white shoes clean? I can’t keep anything clean

124. Do you believe in love at first sight? Yes

125. Do you believe in true love? Yes

126. Are you currently bored? Eh

127. What makes you happy? I don’t know

128. Would you change your name? No

129. What your zodiac sign? Gemini

130. Do you like subway? Yes

131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? I’m already with him

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? My boyfriend

133. Favourite lyrics right now? Danny don’t you know that everyone feels weird on the inside?

134. Can you count to one million? Probably but I never would

135. Dumbest lie you ever told? I don’t know

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? Closed

137. How tall are you? 5’1 or 5’2

138. Curly or Straight hair? My hair is wavy

139. Brunette or Blonde? I’m blonde, naturally

140. Summer or Winter? Winter

141. Night or Day? Night

142. Favourite month? October, December and June

143. Are you a vegetarian? No

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? Milk chocolate

145. Tea or Coffee? Both

146. Was today a good day? It’s been okay so far

147. Mars or Snickers? I’ve never had a Mars Bar but I hate Snickers so

148. What’s your favourite quote? Sometimes you have to look inside yourself and ask “What am I willing to put up with today?’ - Arin Hanson

149. Do you believe in ghosts? Yes

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? Were they blind or something? - Girl Interrupted

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