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momolady · 2 years

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Vintage Misery: Part One

This has been a patreon exclusive for a year now, and I've been just dying to share it. This story takes place in the 90s, set in a southern college town that has secrets hidden to keep the genteel atmosphere. The kindly locals almost seem to smile too much, and anyone from outside is looked at with odd glances. (Features horror elements.)

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I’ve learned a few things from car salesmen, televangelists, and other hawkers - how to razzle-dazzle to sell something that many don’t believe exists. For most, what I sell is a form of entertainment - movie franchises, late-night television hosted by busty goths. But it's all too real for me, having inherited my family’s knowledge and a touch of my mother’s gifts.

Much like a traveling salesman, I try to hit up well-to-do neighborhoods. But college towns are also a boon for my business, especially when sororities and fraternities are involved. They usually reside in old houses, children of old money. Old money means new money for me. But it's the old houses that usually hook me - the older the better, and the more columns on the porch, the better. Especially in the south. I love taking business to the old south.

The houses are usually remnants of plantations, and there’s enough history to build off of to scare some idiot kids into making their parents pay for my expertise. Pretending to be a fortune teller and medium and performing for parties is how I started. After that, I would usually have repeat customers come asking for more. And then, bit by bit, the hauntings started.

One party I went to recently was supposed to be a bg break. One of the girls in the sorority was the daughter of a notoriously superstitious beauty tycoon, known to do business deals under the strict guidance of her horoscope and the placement of celestial bodies. She used crystals, tea readings, and all sorts of new-age bullshit to run her business and family. And her daughter was within my grasp.

I pretended to read the young woman as her sisters watched expectantly, with big eyes surrounded by too much eyeshadow. I sometimes think how I could have been one of them, had my parents not dragged me across the globe. But that was me being bitter. “And you, young lady,” I said to one of the girls, “you are currently dealing with unrequited love.”

The girl looked scared, and then near tears. “How did…”

I tilted my head as a cool breeze stirred my hair. “It’s for one of the professors.”

“I knew it,” another girl said as smugly as possible.

The lovestruck girl shook her head at me. “Can I make it work?”

I feel the cold breeze against my ear. “No. He’s your fucking professor, and he’s either gonna use you and lose you, or keep you on the side until he loses everything in the ensuing scandal. Get over it. Besides, there’s a boy in Delta house who has your picture in his wallet.”

The girl, through tears, sniffled and looked at me hopefully. “Who?”

The breeze went through my hair. “Something Buchanen.”

“Max?” The smug girl said.

I checked my wristwatch. “Oh, dear, look at the time ladies.” I tapped my watch face. “Time’s up for me.” I stood and blew out the candles, then turned on the lights.

Smug girl jumped up. “Wait! What did you say about Max having her picture?”

“It’s in your room,” I scoff. “Go and look for yourself if you don’t believe me. Now if you want me to stay longer, you’re going to have to pay more.” A chill ran down my spine. “And buy me some burritos for dinner.”

Smug girl ran to her room to search for the wallet. I left with my money, and descended the front stairs of the old place. It was dark already, and the streetlamps were casting shadows.

“You should have stayed!” The cold wind hit the back of my head.

“What for?” I snapped. “I can get you burritos, Neil. There was a Mexican joint down the block from here.”

“But that one girl had a stash!” The wind materialized beside me, looking like a wrung-out stoner.

“You’re dead. You can’t get high anymore.”

“But I can remember,” Niel whined. “Just by the smell, the smoke…”

I shook my head. “You died stoned. Of course you remember.” Neil was my best friend. I met him ages ago during one of my parents' many paranormal studies, the victim of a ritualistic sacrifice, lured into a trap with food, pot, and a promise for his poetry to be published. His ghost had haunted the site for ages looking for his promised gifts. I promised him everything except the publishing, which by then he had given up on.

“Whoa.” Neil grabbed my arm. “What is that?”

A troop of girls passed by us - beautiful, almost too beautiful, with creamy pale skin, impeccable clothes, radiant hair. As they walked by, another chill ran up my spine. Behind them trailed another girl on forearm crutches. She was just as beautiful as the rest, even more so with her wounded bird atmosphere.

“What on earth were those?” Neil whispered.

“They’re called women, Neil,” I scoffed and continued walking along. The chill from those girls wasn’t new. I was alway anxious around pretty people, but for some reason I couldn’t shake the feeling even as we walked away.

I took Neil to the Mexican place and ordered him the burrito of his dreams. As long as I supplied him with his favorite food, he stuck to our deal. I suppose I scared the waitress when I recited Neil’s order to her. The burrito he craved would have been monstrous even for the likes of bigfoot or a tyrannosaurus rex. When I first met Neil, I equated him with my favorite teddy bear - short, husky, hairy, and wearing a denim jacket. He was all too happy to leave the site of his death, and it was lucky for him I had a droplet of my mother’s abilities so I could free him.

The takeout order was extremely heavy, most of it from the weight from Neil’s burrito. As we went back to the motel I was staying at, we passed a phone booth. “Wait a second.” I told Neil. “I should call home.”

“Oh, come on! Can’t you call at the motel?” Neil whined.

I entered the phone booth, slid in the quarters and dialed. The phone rang four times before the answering machine kicked in, and I heard my dad’s voice before the beep. “Hey, it’s me. Just giving my weekly update that I’m alive,” I sighed. “Guess you’re still out, or at the museum. Anyways, it’s me. Your daughter. Alive.” I hung up the phone, and as I stepped out of the booth I saw giant globs of beans, beef, lettuce, sour cream spill out onto the sidewalk. “For the love of God, Neil!” I snapped.

He was holding the burrito, practically unhinging his jaw to bite into it even as it went right through him to splatter on the ground. “You’re just wasting it!” I snatched the bag from the ground, not realizing he’d taken it from the shelf in the phone booth while I wasn’t watching. “That was a fucking twenty-dollar burrito!”

The last bit of burrito hit the ground, sending sour cream and beef juice to splatter over my feet and ankles. I glared at Niel, and he just licked his fingers. I rolled my eyes and moved along. No sense in arguing about it now.

The motel smelled like cigarette smoke and bleach, but it wasn’t the worst one I had ever stayed in. The yellow walls, orange bedding and brown carpet made me feel like I was in a sepia-toned picture. “When should I go back?” Neil asked.

“In a couple of days,” I huffed. I sat down at the sticky little table by the window so I could eat my food. “Let them stew for a few days and get comfortable again. Then you can go back and do your business.”

Neil sat down on the bed. “I feel so bad picking on girls, though. I much prefer scaring guys.”

I opened my takeout box. “Well, one of those girls can get us good connections with her very rich, very superstitious mother. We might be able to stop this nonsense and live the high life.” I stopped mid-bite when I grasped my own wording. “No, you won’t be able to get high.”

Neil pouted, then floated away through the wall. After I ate, I climbed into bed and lay staring at the ceiling. There was a huge water stain there. How long had it been there? Was it a sign of pipe damage? A shoddy roof? I thought about these things until I fell asleep, to keep other thoughts from invading my mind.

I woke to the sound of someone pounding on the door. I sat up and caught a glimpse of Niel’s ass before he pulled himself back through the door. “It’s the cops!”

I huffed and got up to answer the door. “What are you doing?” Neil snapped.

“What are you afraid of? We don’t have anything.” I opened the door, but kept the chain latched. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Ma’am, were you at Alpha Sigma Alpha house last night?” the cop outside asked me.

“Good morning to you, too,” I grumbled. “What is this pertaining to, officer?”

The officer was stone-faced, and obviously not in the mood for anything other than being obeyed. “Please answer the question, ma’am.”

“Yes, I was. Now what is this about?”

“Please step outside, ma’am.”

I looked back at Neil, who had hidden under the bed, and rolled my eyes. There went my chance for explaining myself with a haunting. “Not until you tell me why I should.”

“We need to take you in for questioning,” the officer replied, stony as ever.

I furrowed my brow. “Questioning? For what?”

“So we can get your testimony of last night’s events.”

A chill went down my spine. This wasn’t good. Either those sorority girls turned on each other, or I somehow passed by a murderer on the way to the restaurant and didn’t know it. “Can I get changed at least? Maybe a coffee?” I huffed.

“I’ll be waiting here.”

I closed the door and started getting dressed. “Come out, Neil. You have to go with me.”

“I ain’t going nowhere in no cop car.”

“You’re dead, Neil,” I snapped at him. “Besides, you owe me for wasting that burrito last night.”

“You can’t use that against me.”

I threw on my jacket and glared at him. “You know I will, so don’t fight it!” I opened the door and stepped outside. “Okay, I’m ready.”

The cop looked over my shoulder into the room. “Are you in there with someone? I thought I heard a male voice.”

“It’s next door.” I closed the door behind me. “The guy in there has been pacing and mumbling all night.” Crap, this cop might be sensitive. He heard Neil, but I didn’t think he could see him.

The cop looked me over. His badge read Mercy. “What’s your name?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m questioned, Officer Mercy.” I followed him to his car. It wasn’t my first ride in a cop car. I leaned close to the cage that separated the front from the back. “Am I allowed to request a coffee, Officer Mercy? You did wake me up rather rudely.”

“We have coffee at the station,” he said sternly.

“You play the part really well. Let me guess, it’s a family thing. Father a cop? Brother a cop?” I waited for Neil to climb into the front seat. “Your mother’s a cop, too. But she retired, right? To raise a house full of boys.”

Mercy twitched and looked at me in the rearview mirror. “What are you talking about?”

“She ran the house like a bootcamp, right? Is that why you have trouble with constipation? You’re still stressed about it?”

At the stop sign he braked hard and turned around in his seat to look at me. “What are you talking about?”

There was a bottle of constipation pills in the glove compartment, along with a note from a doctor suggesting he take time off for stress. There were also a lot of pictures in Officer Mercy’s wallet. Sentimental, despite the bitterness of his upbringing.

“Coffee first? Or do you not understand what your last name means, Mercy?”

Officer Mercy gave me the eye before turning back around in his seat. “You really are psychic,” he muttered.

“Oh, so you do get it?” I leaned back in the seat while Neil came back to join me. “What happened last night? Did someone die?”

Mercy was quiet, but in the mirror I saw his tense brow and the look of fear in his young eyes. I knew that look, unfortunately.

“How bad was it, Mercy?”

“Ma’am, I won’t talk about it here. You’re being brought in for questioning.”

“That bad, huh?” I murmured. “Was it your first time seeing…”

“Ma’am!” he snapped.

I stopped, knowing I might be making his stress-induced constipation worse. I sighed, crossing my arms against my chest. Once we arrived at the station, I was led to a room where I saw some of the girls from last night. They looked awful, frightened, and I felt for them, whatever they had to witness last night. I was taken to the back and made to sit in a very cold, dimly-lit box with a two-way mirror.

“How do you take your coffee?” Mercy asked.

“With enough cream to make it beige,” I answered.

Mercy furrowed his brow at me.

“It’s not the worst thing you’re going to deal with today, Officer,” I scoffed. “I’ll behave, promise.” He left and I sat, knowing I’d be kept waiting a while. I learned that from my parents, who’d done it before during their studies.

Another cop came in, bigger and more like a pitbull than baby-faced Mercy with his thin mustache coming in. “You are Alice Young, correct?” he said in a chain-smoker wheeze.

“I prefer Al, but yeah. Can you tell me why I’m here? Officer Mercy was chintzy on the details, as well as the coffee he promised me.” I leaned back in my chair, waiting for Neil to return.

Officer Pitbull tossed some pictures onto the table. I recognized them as Smug Girl and Hot-For-Teacher Girl. “Did you speak to these young ladies last night?”

“Yes. This one hired me.” I pointed to Hot-For-Teacher.

The officer placed his elbows on the table and one of his chins on his knuckles. “Can you explain why?”

I looked away from the picture, still waiting for Neil. I hoped I could hesitate long enough. “What were you told?”

Office Pitbull was obviously there to intimidate me, but I had seen much worse than him. “It doesn’t matter. I need to know what you were doing at that house last night.”

“I was hired for a job. The girls were having a party and I was brought in to perform as a medium for entertainment. I performed, then I left and got food at Habanero.” I met his gaze. “Why am I here, officer?”

The door opened and Mercy came in with my coffee. He looked white as a sheet, but he quietly placed my coffee before me on the table. I took a drink as Neil whispered to me, having followed Mercy in. “Thank you, Mercy. This is perfect.” I sat the cup down. “The girls were killed? I’m sorry.”

“You told her?” Pitbull snapped at Mercy.

I shook my head. “They were found in their beds, doors locked, windows open.” I looked directly into Pitbull’s eyes. “No blood, but…”

He slammed his palms down on the table. “You stop your voodoo priestess horseshit this instant! I won’t have it in my building!”

“It’s real…” Mercy started but quieted himself and went back to his uptight stony demeanor from before.

“They said you were hired as a psychic,” Pitbull spat.

I nodded. “I was.”

Pitbull thought he had me there. “And yet you couldn’t predict they were going to be murdered? Or did you not warn them?”

I glared at him. “What do you think?”

He slammed both palms down. “You could be an accessory!”

“I was there, yes, I admit it. But all I did was tell them things they already knew. I can only tell things about people when I’m near them. I can’t tell the future. My abilities lie elsewhere.”

“Yes, I saw your card.” The officer slid it out from the same folder he took the pictures from. “Exorcisms and ghost removal. What sort of bullshit are you trying to sell?”

“Is this about me, or are you going to do anything about those poor girls?” I pressed my finger into the picture. “I’m not at fault here, officer. I’ll tell you what I saw last night, but I had nothing to do with this. I was just in the house as a guest, a party act.”

Office Pitbull glared at me with his lip curled.

“I passed a group of young women as I walked down the street. One had forearm crutches. It was late and dark, and I didn’t really see many people out and about. Even the restaurant I went to was empty aside from a few drunks at the bar.”

“Those girls must be the Harvey sisters,” Mercy said.

Officer Pitbull glared at him. “You’ll have to give me a full statement of what happened last night. Everything from the moment you arrived to the time you left.”

This guy wasn’t going to let me off easy. He probably thought I committed the murders, just because I was a stranger claiming I had powers. He probably thought I was crazy, and for him that was enough to label anyone guilty. I gave my statement from top to bottom as best I could. Then I was allowed to leave, but since Officer Mercy brought me here I had to walk myself back to the hotel.

“This is bad, Al,” Neil shivered.

“We did nothing wrong. What’s bad about this?” I huffed.

“No,” he shook his head. “Those girls, how they died… It’s bad, Al. Really bad.”

I stopped to look him in the eye. “What happened? You only said the bare minimum in the police station.”

Neil’s eyes were bloodshot and dilated. That was usual for him, but there was something new to them, a fresh look of fear. “They were ripped apart.”

“But you said there was no blood,” I huffed.

“There wasn’t!” Neil shook his head wildly. “It was like they’d been… partially eaten.”

A stone sank heavily into my gut. “Oh.”

Neil looked distressed. “I’ve seen some things, but I ain’t ever seen anything like that, Al. Those pictures… those poor girls.”

“Well, there goes my big payday,” I scoffed.

“Is that all you care about?” Neil snapped.

“Look, we’re lucky this is all that this has to do with us. We’ll get out of here and that’ll be the end of it. I’m sorry you had to see that, but there was nothing we could have done. Nothing we can do now. These aren't ghosts, obviously.” I huffed and shoved my hands into my pockets, continuing the walk back to the motel.

Once there I began packing, which wasn’t hard. The bus wasn’t leaving until that evening, so I stayed in the motel the rest of the day. Then, just as I stepped out of the motel office, I saw the girl with forearm crutches outside. She was very petite and lovely. Her long hair was tied back into a sleek braid, and she was wearing a plaid skirt with a matching jacket. She reminded me of a doll. “I’m glad I caught you!” she said breathlessly. “You’re the psychic from the Alpha Sigma Alpha house, right?”

“Not anymore,” I huffed. This girl was so pretty it was almost criminal. My hands were getting sweaty just looking at her.

“Please, I need your help.” She came closer to me. “It’s about what happened last night at the house.”

I walked away from her. “I’m sorry, but I don’t…”

“I saw something last night, and no one will believe me! Please, you have to help. If anyone will believe me, it's you.”

I stopped in my tracks, but only because Neil had grabbed hold of me.

“My name is Beth,” the girl said softly. “I can pay you for your help.”

Neil forced me to turn around. “What did you see?”

“It climbed up through the window last night. I saw it when I was coming back from class,” she said. “It looked like a demon.”

“Last night?” I frowned. “You had classes that late?”

“There are night courses I have to take,” Beth replied. “I even drew what I saw.” She took a piece of paper from her jacket and handed it to me. I unfolded the paper and inside I saw a contorted, long-limbed figure. The mouth was opened, stretched wide and filled with jagged long teeth.

“It reminded me of that movie, the old one,” Beth said, breathless. “The tall man with the hunched shoulders, bald head and pointed ears and teeth.”

“Nosferatu,” I grimaced. “Vampires aren’t real.”

“But I saw it!” Beth argued. “Please, you have to believe me. You’re the only one who can possibly help us.”

I looked back at the picture. “This won’t be cheap.”

Beth shook her head. “I don’t care. I need you.”

I folded the picture and stuck it into my own pocket. “Let’s talk, then.”

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I just wanted to get out of this town. If Officer Pitbull had any say in the matter, I was the primary suspect in a double homicide, and this held the possibility of him unearthing a slurry of unsavory facts about my family. Facts he could use to connect me to the murder of these two girls, or at least provide character evidence indicating my likely guilt.

Beth took me to a twenty-four hour diner so we could talk. It was quiet, filled with exhausted university students, a few truck drivers, and the two waitresses on shift. I ordered coffee and waffles, but only because Beth was paying. My bus had already left, I would have to wait another day to leave.

“There’s not much on her I can read,” Neil sat beside Beth at the booth, going through her pockets and small bag. “Just some loose cash and a student ID.”

I was looking at my coffee while he spoke. Beth could see the creature going into the window last night, but not Neil. It seemed strange.

“I know who you are,” Beth finally said. Her songbird voice was warbly and timid. “I’ve read the books your parents have written.”

I swallowed hard, pressing my tongue against my teeth. “Is that why I’m here, then? You’re a fan of my parents?”

Beth shook her head. “No, I’m genuinely asking for your help. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this creature around campus. And you might know something about it. Your parents have been all over. The Wakefield house, the Seamstress murders…”

I set down the coffee mug a bit too hard on the table. “I know what my parents have done. That was them. Not me.”

Beth’s eyes widened. “But your card says you perform exorcisms and paranormal investigations, just like they do.”

“Go back to what you said before,” I said. “You’ve seen the creature around campus before? Why have you not told anyone?”

“I’ve tried, but my sisters call me crazy. But your parents’ books claim that all sorts of phenomena can occur. I suspect this could be some sort of demon, or even a poltergeist.”

I shake my head. “Demons aren’t so subtle, and poltergeists don’t let themselves get seen. Is this the only strange thing you’ve ever seen? Or has this happened to you before?”

Beth shook her head. “Not that I could recall. Have you seen anything like this?”

I was seven years old when I experienced my first real paranormal phenomenon. My parents were good about keeping me away from their work, and the museum they kept close to the house. My mom talked about a lockbox or something too, but I never knew what that was. Fed up with my parents’ constant reticence and absence, I snuck into their museum, where I was never allowed to go, a treasure trove of artifacts and trophies from their past jobs. I was clutching my teddy bear, the one that I would later equate Neil with. Next thing I knew my dad was dragging me out, my mom was screaming inside, and I didn’t see that teddy bear again until years later, when I discovered it locked into a glass box like a fire extinguisher. I didn’t remember what transpired in the museum, but afterwards it became apparent to my parents I had a gift - I was able to attract ghosts in a way they hadn’t seen before.

I sighed, pushing my plate aside as Neil looked at it hungrily. “I missed my bus for this. I need something more concrete to go off of. Your friends were murdered, and I know you’re shaken. But I don’t deal with murder in the present tense. I deal with the aftereffects, the residual anger so powerful it lingers for centuries. I’m not quite sure what you’re asking me to do, or even to look for.”

Beth stared at me, frustrated almost to tears. “But what about this creature?”

“Call animal control. Wrap yourselves in garlic, hang crosses over every opening in the house. Call a priest, but don’t call me.”

I tried to stand up, but Beth used one of her crutches to hit me in the leg. “Could you tell if something was there if you went to the house?” she asked.

“Maybe, but it’s a crime scene. And the top dog in charge already resents me. I don’t exactly want to give him ammo.” I had already been inside that house, and there was nothing there. I didn’t need to go back to know that.

“I can get you in. No one will be there tonight. There wasn’t even anyone there when I came to get you.” Beth sounded so hopeful. Perhaps if I gave in and went with her, I could convince her there was nothing and leave it at that. Whatever got to those girls wasn’t a ghost, because I’d never heard of a ghost rending flesh like that.

“Fine,” I sighed. “But this will cost you extra.”

Beth nodded, so determined to see this to the end. “That’s fine with me.”

She took me back to the campus, which had been partially closed down. The girls in the sorority house had all gone home by now, and the area around the sorority itself had been cordoned off with police tape. Leading the way on her crutches, Beth guided me to the back of the house. All the doors should have been locked, but the back door opened with relative ease. “I’ll stay here and keep watch,” Beth said. “Be safe, okay?”

I nodded and went inside. As Beth closed the door behind me, I waited for Neil to materialize. “There’s nothing,” he said.

“Nothing at all?” I asked. “Did you check their rooms?”

Neil shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare go in there.”

“You’re a ghost, Neil,” I scoffed. I stepped from the kitchen into the foyer. I had been here before, but everything felt so different. I took a deep breath, smelling the air for any sort of changes. I was starting up the stairs when Neil grabbed me and held me back. I huffed. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t think you should go up there. It could be dangerous.” Neil’s bloodshot eyes stared into me. “Please.”

“There are no ghosts here.” I yanked my arm back and continued to walk up. “So stop acting like a…” The stair under me opened up. I can’t say exactly how it happened, but it almost felt like it was pulled out from under my feet. I grabbed hold just before I plummeted, and dangled there in the darkness before my grip completely failed me. I plunged through the darkness before I fell into water.

“Al!” Neil screamed from above.

I panicked. Unable to find anything solid, I splashed and kicked wildly. I screamed for help, hoping Beth could hear me. My voice echoed off something, so there must have been walls nearby, at least. “Neil!” I cried out.

His hand clasped around mine, pulling me above water and guiding me to something solid. I heaved myself out of the water, gasping for breath and shuddering all over. I reached into my pocket, praying that my lighter still worked. “Are you okay?” Neil asked.

The lighter sparked and squeaked as I tried to get it to light. “No, I’m not fucking okay.” It sparked to life, and the tiny flame cast a small circle of light around me. I stood up on a patch of bare earth. “What the fuck is this?”

“The basement?” Neil chirped.

I shook my head. “There’s no way. A cistern under an old house? Does that make sense?”

“It’s cold down here,” Neil whispered.

“How would you…” A chill cut through my body, and I wished it was because I was soaking wet. I stretched out my arm, moving closer to the edge of the water. I could see things on the surface, floating near the bank. “Are those…” Something clung to the small patch of land that I was on. The water lapped against it, rocking it gently against the dirt. It looked like tattered clothes and rope.

“This isn’t good, Al,” Neil whimpered. “We need to find a way out.”

“Yeah, no shit.” I moved back again. “I need something to light. I can’t keep this lit forever.” I felt across the dirt. “You start looking for a way out.”

“Are you sure you want to be left alone?” Neil asked.

“What else do I have going for me? Just go.” I kept looking, hoping to find something to illuminate better than a solitary lighter. Eventually I found what looked like an old flashlight, and by some miracle it still worked. I turned it on, shining the light over the water. That’s when I saw it. I switched the light off and held my breath.

“Al, I think I found something!”

“Show me.” My voice cracked.

“It’s over this way.” Neil touched me. “Did you find a flashlight?”

“Neil,” I swallowed hard. “It’s bad. It’s really bad.”

“Well, sure. That’s a given.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s worse than that.” I closed my eyes, turned on the flashlight, and shone it out over the lake. Neil screamed, and I turned it off again. I didn’t need to open my eyes to see the skeletons, the bodies, draped over the patches of earth against the stone walls.

“What the fuck is that? What the fuck? What is…” Niel was beginning to panic. After all, this looked vaguely similar to the mass grave he was left in.

I grabbed him. “The exit, Neil! We need to get out!”

“It’s a murder house! What is happening?” Neil was still babbling as he tried to come to grips with what he saw.

“That’s why we need to go!” I yanked Niel hard, hopefully snapping him back into his senses. He ran, pulling me along behind him. I had to move through the water, stepping on things that felt like bones, but we eventually made it to a door. There was a grate covering it, but the grate buckled easily when force was applied. I stepped out onto the marshy wetlands behind the campus, under an overpass where I could hear cars driving by.

I took deep breaths as I looked around, shaking all over. “Okay.” I breathed. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Neil snapped. “What was that in there?”

“I don’t know.” I started walking around with my fists clenched. “But we’re leaving, that’s for damn sure. I don’t care if Beth begs me to stay. I’m not going back.”

“Are you not going to tell anyone?” Neil quickly ran up beside me.

“No, of course not! I’m not telling anybody about a mass grave! Not until I’m a thousand miles away and can leave an anonymous tip at some phone booth in New York.” I trudged through the sludge until we reached dry land, and it took me a moment to realize we’d wound up in someone’s backyard. “I just want to get out of here.” I started walking across the lawn, hoping it was too late in the evening for anyone to notice me. “Get my fucking things and go.”

The back door of the nearby house opened. Light flooded my vision, and the sound of a gun cocking deafened me. “Don’t move!”

I stood still, quickly throwing my arms up into the air.

“Ms. Young?”

I squinted through the light until I could focus. There was a young man on the porch wearing a shirt and boxer shorts. “Mercy?”

He lowered his gun and stared at me in confusion. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“That’s my question.”

“You’re soaked.” He lowered his gun to his side and waved at me. “Come in.”

I shook my head. “No. I really should go. I need to go.” I turned to continue making my getaway when I tripped over a hose hidden in the grass and fell face-first into a rock.

Needless to say, I was pulled inside by Officer Mercy, who gave me ice for my black eye and even offered me dry clothes. Then he sat down at the table across from me. “I’m sorry about what happened at the station today. I didn’t think Gradings would go off like that on you.”

Seeing him like this, he didn't seem like a police officer, just some baby-faced guy. “I’m sure he’s perfectly nice when coeds haven’t been brutally murdered.”

Mercy shook his head. “No.”

I sighed. “I see.”

“Tell him,” Neil hissed.

I shooed him away like I was swatting a fly. “Is this the first murder around here?” I asked. “I mean, like… gruesome as it is.”

“We’ve dealt with a lot of missing persons reports,” Mercy said. “But nothing like this.” His eyes drifted away into nothing as he rubbed his hand over his jaw and mouth.

I furrowed my brow. “Missing persons?”

“It’s a college town. Kids run away, join cults, bands, lovers, you name it. Most of them turn up, or we’re told they got home.” He shrugged. “I mean, I heard stories that before the college was built here, there were some shady businesses around. But that’s just rumors.”

I lifted the ice bag away from my face. “What kind of shady business?”

“Oh man, that looks bad.” Mercy stood up and approached me. “You’ll probably have a shiner in the morning. I’ll get you some aspirin.”

I scowled. “I’m not going to stay. I really should be going.”

Mercy made me hold the ice back over my eye. “Look, the buses don't run again until the morning, so you might as well stay the night. Whatever you were doing out there, it can wait too, can’t it?”

“Some cop,” I huffed.

“I don’t think you’re guilty. I felt bad even waking you up this morning, but Gradings was dead-set on it. Especially when he found your card on one of the… the girls.” He couldn’t even bring himself to say ‘corpses’.

“You’ve probably had a bad day too,” I muttered. “You saw right?”

Mercy’s skin grew pale and clammy.

“Look, take it from an old hat, there was nothing you could have done. But you can work hard to see that it doesn’t happen again.” I took the ice away from my eye again. “I’ll sleep on your couch.”

“Why don’t you tell him?” Neil snapped at me.

Mercy gave me a curious look. “Old hat?”

I stood up from the kitchen table. “I deal with ghosts, remember? I see death in a different way, but it’s still death.”

That seemed to be enough for Mercy. “Oh, right.” He led me into the living room. “If you need another blanket, just ask.”

I saw an open book on the recliner, along with half a beer. “Can’t sleep?”

Mercy avoided the question by pretending he didn’t hear me. He turned off the light then the one in the kitchen. “You need to tell him,” Neil snapped at me.

“How the fuck do I tell him?” I scoffed. “I told you, I’ll give an anonymous tip once I’m out of here. There’s no sense in putting myself into this drama.”

“You were literally dumped into the middle of it, Al!” Neil hissed. “Something is going on! Those poor girls could be part of it. You could have been, too! The stair didn’t just give way for no reason.”

I put an old throw pillow over my face to try and drown Niel out. “This has nothing to do with ghosts!” I snapped.

Neil threw the pillow across the room. “You’re an idiot,” he snarled into my ear.

I lay there, staring out into the shadows. Everytime I closed my eyes, I saw the bodies in the flashlight beam. I had to stay awake to keep that image out of my head.

I got up as soon as there was light out, and when I did I noticed Mercy sitting in his kitchen, already in uniform and with my dry clothes laid out on the table. “You’re awake.” he said simply.

“So are you.” I took my clothes. “I’ll go change and get out of your hair.”

“How’s your eye?” he asked.

I touched my face. “Sore. How does it look?”

A slight smile appeared on Mercy’s lips, and he looked almost handsome. “Not as bad as I thought it was going to be. Did you use my phone last night?”

I clenched my fist around my clothes. Mercy had done this at the hotel, too. “No. Why do you ask?”

“Because I thought I heard you talking to someone last night.” He shrugged. “Sorry. Must have been a figment of my imagination.”

“Yeah, there wasn’t any talking.” I went and changed, folding up the things I’d slept in and laying them aside. I looked back into the mirror and saw Neil standing behind me. “You really almost got me in trouble.”

“I did?” He laughed. “You and I must remember yesterday very differently.”

“Shut up,” I hissed. I left the bathroom quickly, exited the house, crossed the street and kept going. I could see signs for the campus in the distance. Once I got there, I’d be able to find my way back to the bus station, but that Beth girl had my stuff. I needed to find her first.

I turned back around to see Mercy getting into his patrol car, and I went back across the street and leaned over into his window. “Those Harvey girls,” I started. “Do you know where they are?”

“The Harvey girls?” Mercy asked, taking off his sunglasses. “I think they said they were staying somewhere off campus. But they’ve probably left with everyone else.”

“Just tell me where they are, please.”

Mercy motioned to the car door, a slight smile on his face. “Get in and I can take you there.”

I sighed and hopped in. He drove in silence for a while, seeming to want to say something. “How did you know…” Mercy hesitated.

“About your… medical condition?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just did.”

Neil scoffed from the back seat.

“It’s pretty amazing. Being able to see things like that about people.” Mercy said. “I wish I knew stuff like that sometimes, without having to speak.” I noticed the way he was rubbing his fingers along the steering wheel, like he was trying to comfort himself.

“It’s not amazing,” I sighed. “It’s a problem.”

He nodded. “I see.” He started slowing down. “This should be it.”

The house was old, and looked like it should have been part of the campus. I stepped out of the car and looked up at the windows, which were all closed and shuttered.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” Mercy asked.

Then I saw my bag, sitting on a chair on the porch. I went up and grabbed it, putting it over my shoulder, then noticed there was a note and a key under the bag. “I don’t know what happened to you last night. But if you come inside you can wait until your bus has to leave. I can take you to the station and pay you for the trouble. - Beth”.

I wanted to leave and wait at the station. But I felt I owed an explanation to Beth, or at least to let her know I was alive. I shook my head at Mercy. “No, just go. Get to work.”

I used the key to open the front door, finding the house dark and quiet. “At least it’s not a death lake,” Neil whispered.

“Shut up. Everyone must still be asleep.” I walked inside, hearing the click-clack of the grandfather clock by the stairs. There was a sitting room just to the right of the entrance, and I sank into a chair, feeling drowsy.

“Should I go and look around?” Neil asked.

“No. Just stay put,” I grumbled. I went through my bag to make sure everything was there. Luckily, it all was. I stood up just to look outside and make sure Officer Mercy had driven off.

“Oh, good, you’re here.” I turned around, and there was Beth standing there.

I stepped away from the windows. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“I was actually just making my way to bed,” she chuckled. “I was up a bit too late doing schoolwork, and then I thought I heard you come in.”

“Go to sleep,” I said. “I can rest here on the sofa.”

Beth then tilted her head. “You look awful. What happened to you last night?” She approached me and stood very close, and one hand left her crutch and took hold of mine.

“I was…” My voice cracked. “It’s hard to explain. I was trying to find your creature, and I got a bit sidetracked.”

“Liar,” Neil grumbled.

She smiled at me. “Why don’t you take a shower, and then you can get some rest before you have to go. I’ll even get a bed made up for you.”

I felt drowsier than before, and I let her lead me away. As I walked down the hallway, I saw one of the other girls through an open door. She was standing by her bed, but when I walked by her head turned. It seemed to twist much farther than it should be able, and her eyes looked red. But I was exhausted. I probably wasn’t thinking right.

#exophlia #vampire #vampire girlfriend #ghost #vampire story #horror story #momolady monsters #my writing

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worldofwardcraft · 9 months

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A vision of invasion.

September 14, 2023

The last time the US invaded Mexico was in 1846 during the presidency of James Polk, a close ally of populist demagogue and murderous racist Andrew Jackson (Donald Trump's favorite president, naturally). Historians generally agree the Mexican-American War was a blatant act of imperialism manufactured by pro-slavery politicians and falsely sold to the American public as a justified incursion.

But today, Republican MAGAs, the ideological descendants of those politicians, are eager once again to attack the sovereign nation to our south (and our third-largest trading partner). Rather than rely on a cooked-up border clash between US dragoons and Mexican soldiers, the pretext this time is that Mexican-based cartels are supplying the US market with drugs like methamphetamine and fentanyl. Moreover, this zeal for committing an illegal act of aggression has grown into a mainstream GOP policy position.

During last month's televised debate, Ron DeSantis boasted that, if elected, he would send US Special Forces into Mexico to fight the drug cartels on “day one” of his presidency. The pseudo-tough guy more recently declared that he would not even rule out launching missiles into Mexico, saying it's "dependent on the situation."

Not to be outdone in ridiculous posturing, Nikki Haley also vowed to send troops to Mexico, telling Faux News,

When it comes to the cartels, we should treat them like the terrorists that they are. I would send special operations in there and eliminate them just like we eliminated ISIS.

In fact, every single Republican presidential candidate has endorsed treating the drug cartels like terrorist organizations and authorizing military force against them. Meanwhile, a joint resolution has been submitted by representatives Dan Crenshaw (R-TX) and Mike Waltz (R-FL) that would authorize the use of military force against a list of Mexican drug gangs.

These war fantasies trace back to reports that then-president Trump asked then-defense secretary Mark Esper at least twice about the possibility of launching missiles into Mexico to “destroy the drug labs” and wipe out the cartels. More recently, he also allegedly asked his advisers to draw up "battle plans" to attack Mexico when he becomes president again.

Of course, most of this is simply performative war mongering by GOPers trying to show how strong and uncompromising they are. Says career diplomat Earl Anthony Wayne, President Obama's ambassador to Mexico, about dealing with the drug cartels, “Give me a serious solution here. Don’t just make us all feel happy because you say you’re going to send the Special Forces in." But, as usual, Republicans prefer imaginary solutions to real ones.

#drug cartels #maga idiots #it's all performative

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donut-entendre · 3 years

Text

Gonna compile my Caboose hc's real quick just for ease of access bc. I have to go rummaging through my blog every time I wanna check something I've said. Anyway.

He has gigantism, acromegaly, and human double-muscle mutation (myostatin-related muscle hypertrophy/myostatin suppression)! and while he doesn't need it all the time, he has forearm crutches and a wheelchair to deal with the joint/back pain. His natural voice is actually the deep O'Malley one! He just is chirpy to be less intimidating.

He's Latino - specifically Mexican! I like the think his moon colony city was primarily Latine. (Maybe it's called... Los Pequeño México de la Luna? Maybe it's shortened to Luna México when spoken of casually. Think Los Angeles type shortening. Caboose es un Luna Méxicano. El es del Luna México. It's 500 years in the future and the Moon was settled on in 2080 - there's definitely a moon dialect by now. The moon also has it's own governing body, but that wouldn't stop cultures from culminating together.

Obviously, Caboose autistic ADHD... and brain damage but that part's canon. He doesn't like strawberry icecream bc of the fruit chunks. if it wasn't chunky it'd literally be fine. OH and he's dyslexic!!

Uuuhhh biromantic asexual :) he could fuck if he so desires but he doesn't really think about it.

This is more of a Schrödinger's headcanon but. Huragok/Human hybrid Caboose !! he was built but he is human and also he is full of love and biomachinery and giving robots sentience all the time

He has tritanomaly - green and orange barely exist to him.

He's going to Harvard online, not sure what for yet. IMO he'd probably bounce majors all the time. He wants to learn as much as possible about everything! Learning is fun!

Also uh he's plural. I don't have to explain this it's just true. Makes second secret friends based partially on his real friends (but not on purpose) that live in his head. That's why his echo said hi back :) and why he flat didn't question O'Malley's presence. Like oh hey a new guy what's up? In the same vein, he's got Trauma from being a neurodivergent kid in public school. It's why he got mad enough to bounce that one zealot like a ping pong ball when told the zealot stole from him - that's trauma rage babey!!! And how secretive he is about projects. Getting talked down to about projects when nuerodivergent Hurts when it clicks. And the RSD. He wants to be respected and being insulted really hurts!

#hc reference #nonsense thoughts

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch46: Just A Formality

Intro: Emmy gets into a spot of trouble at school, which leads the family to make a joint decision that will change their lives forever. And together with their friends they celebrate Jamie’s birthday, will a little surprise for Emmy too.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Slight angst (teenagers) and Steve being a very overprotective dad…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Yeah, I love this chapter. I hope you all do too. And thank @angrybirdcr for the edit...it mushed my insides!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 45

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

February 2021

“So what do you think?” Rhodey asked as he stood, arms folded, looking at the screen. Natasha was stood next to him, nervously chewing on her nail and Steve was looking at the rather gory photos that they had been sent through from the Mexican Authorities.

“Is it definitely him?” Steve sighed, looking at the screen again. In a million years he would never have expected Barton to be capable of such out and out gore and violence, but then again the man had lost his entire family- wife and three kids. Steve wasn’t sure how he would react should anything happen to Katie, Emmy or Jamie.

“Yeah.” Nat sighed, pressing another button. This time it flipped to some CCTV footage of the incident. They three of them watched as Clint took down six gang members, brutally, and with a final swipe of the samurai sword he was holding almost severed one man’s head completely from its shoulders. “Same MO, same fight pattern, and the facial recognition software caught him about five miles north of this town less than two hours before this happened.” “He’s getting more and more vicious.” Rhodey spoke. “I suppose we should be grateful in a way he’s taking down people that we should be stopping but how long till someone gets caught in the cross fire?” “Clint wouldn’t-” Natasha began but Steve cut her off.

“Once I would agree with you.” he sighed, looking at her “But now, well, Nat, he’s…” “Lost it.” Rhodey concluded

“So would you if you’d seen your wife and kids turn to dust.” Nat’s voice was fierce as she turned to look at him.

“I know.” Rhodey held his hands up “I can’t even imagine what he went through.”

Steve looked at Nat, recognising the pensive look on her face. “What you thinking?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m gonna fly out to Mexico. Rhodey, can you come with me? We’ll see if we can dig anything up?” Rhodey nodded. Steve was about to offer his services too, but then his phone started ringing.

“Hey beautiful.” He greeted Katie, but instead of the usual response of either hello handsome or soldier, he was met with an exasperated sigh.

“Emmy’s Principal has just called me.” She groaned “She’s been in a fight.”

Steve frowned. “Really? What for?” “No idea. He didn’t say much other than he’s excluding her for a week and wants us to go collect her as soon as we can. Thing is, I have a call in twenty with the Health Authorities, President Ellis has asked me to give them some guidance on how we regrouped at SI, and I can try and rearrange but if I can’t it means she’s gonna be sat outside the office for at least an hour and a half. Is there any chance you-”

“I got, course I’ll go. I’m done here anyway so you do what you need to do and we’ll see you at home.”

“Thank you.” She sighed “Between this and Jamie screaming blue murder when I dropped him in at the Day Care this morning It hasn’t really been the spectacular return to work I was hoping for.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “He didn’t take it well then?” “No.” Her voice cracked “God, Steve, Leaving him there whilst he was screaming, fuck, it broke my heart.” Steve took a sigh and walked a little further away from Rhodey and Natasha, dropping his voice. “Honey, he’ll be fine. You know what he’s like. Ten minutes after you left he will have forgotten why he’s so upset and will have settled.”

“I know, I just, well Mom and Dad used to palm me and Tony off on our Nannies all the time and-”

“This is completely different.” Steve cut her off. “First off, you’re leaving him for what, five hours a day, maximum. Second off, he’s being watched at a crèche, twenty floors down from where you are, in the same building so you can see him whenever you want.”

“I was advised by the Staff not to do that today.” She sniffed. “It could unsettle him more.”

“I’m sure they know what they’re talking about.” Steve soothed her gently “Look, try not to worry. Jamie will be fine, I’ll go sort Emmy out and we’ll see you at home this evening okay?” “My hero.” she said and Steve smiled.

“Love you, see you later.”

Cutting the call he turned to Rhodey and Nat who were still looking at the screen. Walking back towards them he picked up his jacket where he had tossed it over the back of a chair, reaching for his keys at the same time.

“Guys, I gotta go.” He informed them and they looked up. “Emmy’s in trouble at school and I need to head in and see the Principal.”

“Trouble?” Nat frowned.

“Fighting.” Steve rolled his eyes as Nat and Rhodey exchanged a glance, Nat smirking slightly. Steve gave an exasperated sigh. “What?”

“Nothing.” Nat grinned. “Just don’t punch the Principal in the face…”

*****

It took Steve little over thirty minutes to reach the school. He may have broken a few speeding laws on the way, but Katie was right, it was too easy to do in the Camero. To be honest, it was pretty easy to do in the new Audi they had bought just before Christmas too, but Katie had that as it was easier to get Jamie’s seat and stroller in. The Camero was not child friendly, at all, but she had insisted on keeping it as a second car, despite Steve’s protests that they didn’t need it.

With an easy tug he pulled open the doors to the reception of the school and strode inside. The woman behind the desk handed him a visitor’s pass and led him down to the office as he brushed a piece of fluff off the front of his long sleeved blue top. Steve followed the white haired lady through the corridors in silence until he reached the office and spotted Emmy was sat outside it, slumped in a chair. At the sight of her father she jumped up and ran into his arms, crying.

“Hey,” He looked down as he smoothed her dark, ebony hair out of her face, cupping her face gently in one large hand. “What’s going on, Em?” “He started it.” She sniffed. “He was saying things, about you and mom and that my birth parents and that…that…”

She was starting to have a panic attack, Steve could see that instantly. She’d suffered from them a lot when she had first started to live with them and he knew that if he didn’t help her get it under control now it would escalate.

“Deep breaths.” He spoke gently, steering her back to a chair. She sat down and he tilted her head with his hand so that she was looking at him. “Count to ten, just like we practiced ok?”

She gripped onto his forearms, her eyes screwing shut as she took deep inhales and exhales, counting along as she did. By the time she got to seven she’d managed to ground herself again, and Steve encouraged her for the remaining three numbers, them just reaching ten as the door to the office at the end of the corridor opened.

“Mr Rogers.”

Steve stood up to greet the Principal, John Stevenson, who he had met once before when they had enrolled Emmy into the school. He was a tall, lean man with round glasses and a kind face, but an air of authority perfect for that of a headmaster “Mr Stevenson.” Steve smiled, shaking his hand “I don’t mean to be rude, but could you give me a second with my daughter please? I want to hear her side of the story and then I’ll be right with you.”

“Of course,” the man nodded, giving him and Emmy a little smile. “Just come in when you’re ready.”

Once the door to his office was shut, Steve sat on the spare seat next to Emmy. “So you wanna tell me what happened. Who ya been fightin’ with?”

“A boy a grade above. And I wasn’t fighting. Not really, I mean I hit him but he fell over, he didn’t hit me back.” Steve bit his lip. “Seems the stuff your mom and Auntie Nat taught you came in handy, huh?”

Emmy shrugged.

“What did you hit him for?”

“Because he’s a jerk and a bully” Emmy’s hands were wringing together. “He was picking on a few of the kids who lost their parents all through last year and then last month when I told him to shut up, he decided to start on me”

Steve took a deep breath “What was he saying?”

“The usual, stuff like ‘you don’t have a real family’, said that you and mom only look after me because you feel guilty that the Avengers fucked, sorry, messed up.” She glanced up at Steve, but he merely arched an eyebrow, letting the curse word slide. “And he says that once I’m old enough you’ll throw me out, and then he called me a, and I quote ‘fucking orphan rat’.” She shrugged. “Sso I punched him.”

“Alright.” Steve took a deep breath, his jaw ticking as he supressed the feeling of annoyance and anger that had flooded his system at Emmy’s explanation. “We’ll unpack all that when we get home, with your mom.”

“Are you mad?” Emmy blinked up at him, her eyes wide.

“Well, punching him probably wasn’t the best way to deal with the situation.” Steve sighed, and instantly his wife’s voice popped into his head at how hypocritical he felt.

“Hello Kettle, this is Steve Rogers, you’re black…”

“But if what you’re telling me is true-“ “It is Dad I swear!”

“Then no, I’m not mad. At you.” He gave her a small smile. “But I’m mad as hell he said those horrible things to you though.” He looked at Emmy as she smiled softly. “Now, I best go speak to your principal. I won’t be long, and then we’ll go home and talk properly okay?”

She nodded and Steve dropped a kiss to her head as he stood up and walked to the door. Rapping on it twice, he pulled it open and stepped inside the room, shutting it behind him. Principal Stevenson stood up, shook his hand before gesturing down at the chairs on the opposite side of his desk.

“So did she tell you what happened?” The man asked, leaning back slightly in his chair.

Steve nodded. “She said that a boy, I didn’t get his name…” “Josh Gemmil.” “Yes, well, she told me that this Josh had been picking on a few kids and when he started on her, she didn’t take kindly to it. And to be frank, I can’t say I blame her. The things he was saying to Emmy were disgusting.” “Yeah, and that may be the case.” Mr Stevenson sighed heavily, “but the issue is, Mr Rogers, we have a strict zero tolerance to violence policy, so, given Emmy did punch him in front of pretty much the entire school in the yard, I’ve no alternative but to suspend her for a week.” “Are you suspending him?” Steve asked.

“Sorry?” The man opposite Steve frowned. “I’m not…” “The boy who Emmy punched. Are you suspending him for what he said?”

“No-one has corroborated her story, well, other than Brooke and I know how close they are so she could be-” “Woah, hold up.” Steve interrupted, holding his hand up to cut that man off as a flash of anger surged through his chest. “Are you insinuating Emmy is lying?” “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” “So if she’s telling the truth, then surely the boy deserves punishment as well. Emmy isn’t the only person he’s been saying things to.”

“She’s the only person who has punched him.” “That may be, but either way-.”

“Mr Rogers,” the Principal sighed, cutting him off, “for what it’s worth Josh’s parents will be coming in later and I will be consulting them about his behaviour, but unfortunately Emmy has broken his nose.” “Well, I’d like to say I’m sorry about that but I’m not.” Steve was too far gone now to be rational, his instinct to protect his daughter had well and truly kicked in and the guy in front of him was really pissing him off. “I don’t like bullies,” he continued, levelling the man with a look and he visibly recoiled back into his seat, “and I’m not gonna punish my daughter for standing up to one. If you deem it fit to suspend her then fine, that is your prerogative, and of course I will tell her that violence is not acceptable, but I would expect some level of punishment to be extended to the boy in question and not just her.”

The Principal nodded. “Mr Rogers, I can assure you, if it was up to me I wouldn’t be suspending her at all, but my hands are tied by the governors and policies. I make an exception here, I have to do it for others and before you know it…” he trailed off. Steve took a deep breath, he could understand that perfectly, didn’t make it any easier for him to swallow though. “But that’s why the suspension is only for a week and not the two.”

Steve nodded. “Okay, do I need to sign anything or…”

“No.” the Principal shook his head. “Emmy has her log on to Workspace, her class notes and homework will be detailed on there as usual so she doesn’t miss out. If there is anything she doesn’t understand or needs help with, she can catch up when she gets back. She’s a very, smart kid so I’m not too concerned about that aspect of things.” Steve nodded, and stood up. He took a deep breath and stepped back into the corridor to find Brooke was sat with Emmy now, her arm round her best friend.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Steve asked, shooting the red head a look.

“Hey Mr R, don’t sweat it. Told em I was going to the bathroom.” Brooke shrugged and Steve rolled his eys.

“Well scoot before you get into trouble too.” He gestured with his head to the doors that led back to the reception area.

“Can Brooke come over later?” Emmy asked, timidly, “Or am I grounded?”

Steve took a deep breath “Not tonight, we need to have a chat. But over the weekend then, sure.” “’kay.” Emmy nodded, standing up. She reached for her rucksack but Steve took it from her, carrying it in his right hand, his left gently between Emmy’s shoulder blades as he steered her towards the exit. As they walked into the reception, Emmy stopped dead and he heard Brooke who was walking along at his other side mutter an ‘uh-oh’.

“This her?” A short, squat woman with a very short hair cut was stood a few feet in front of him, a boy by her side, a few inches taller than her, dressed in a bloodied T-shirt glared at Emmy and nodded. Instantly Steve moved forward a step so he was level with his daughter, his hand dropping to her shoulder.

“Your daughter broke my son’s nose.” The woman glared up at him.

“So I understand.” Steve nodded. “She has been suspended and we’ll be dealing with it appropriately.”

“You know, kids like her, they shouldn’t be-”

“Kids like her?” Steve blinked at the woman, and shook his head. “Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” Steve’s voice was low. “So, please, explain.”

“I mean with violent and aggressive tendencies, they should be locked up not in a school with normal kids-” “Woah, now hang on.” Steve held his hand up as he looked at the woman. “Your son isn’t exactly innocent in all this.” “I don’t see your daughter with blood all over her shirt. He didn’t hit her…” “I would hope not, seeing as he’s a boy and half a foot taller than her.” He shot back and the woman’s mouth snapped shut. Steve turned to Emmy and handed her the backpack and his keys. “Go and get in the car, sweetheart, I’ll be with you in a minute.” Emmy glanced up at him, one look on his face told her he wasn’t to be argued with, and she nodded and took them from him, before leaving.

His attention then turned to the teenager and woman and he folded his arms across his chest, glaring at them both. The boy had a sharp face, slicked back blonde hair and for some reason he reminded Steve of a younger Gilmore Hodge. Which was never a good thing. He looked at the woman and spoke again, his voice level but full of that Captain Authority he could never help turning on in situations like this.

“Your son said some very nasty things to my daughter, and in normal circumstances he should be apologising. However, given what happened I suggest we leave it at that and they agree to stay away from one another in the future.” “Him apologise?” The woman practically shrieked. “She punched him, if anything she’s the one that should be saying sorry.” Steve gave a huff of a laugh “I can assure you that won’t be happening. Besides,” he turned to the boy, “do you really want an apology from a ‘fucking orphan rat’?”

He heard a snigger followed by a mumble of “mic drop…” to his right and turned to see Brooke was still there.

“What are-” he shot her a look, pointing towards the class rooms, “-scoot.” “Later Mr R.” Brooke shot him a salute and he raised an eyebrow as she headed off back to wherever she should have been in the first place.

“Did you say that?” The woman had rounded on her son.

“No…I swear.” “He said he didn’t.” Steve shook his head, his hands dropping to the buckle of his belt. “I’m not interested in whether he admits it or not. Fact of the matter is I believe my daughter and according to her and her friend, Emmy isn’t the first kid he’s picked on but I’m sure as hell hoping she’s gonna be the last, especially now he’s had a punch in the face to make him consider the consequences of his actions.” His lips quirked a little at the side as he delivered his final line. “I’d hate for him to get antoher.” “How dare you threaten him?” The woman was now talking in that high a pitch it was making Steve’s ears hurt.

“That isn’t a threat.” Steve shook his head “Merely an observation. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He turned to the door when the woman spluttered after him “You know, we do know where you live. That big, fancy house in Clinton Hill.” “Then by all means feel free to call round later.” Steve laughed as he turned to grin at the woman of her shoulder. “But I really don’t fancy your chances against my wife.” ****** “He said WHAT?” Katie spluttered once Steve had explained what had gone on. “The little fucking shit!” “His mother wasn’t much better either.” Steve shook his head as he raised Jamie up higher in the air above him, the tot screaming with laughter. “She threatened to come round later.” “I’ll kick her fucking ass!” Katie folded her arms across her chest and a wry smile crossed Steve’s face as he brought Jamie back down to his chest.

“Yeah I told her I didn’t fancy her chances.”

“Where’s Emmy now?” Katie asked.

“In her room, she said she wanted to be alone for a bit.”

Katie pondered for a moment, before she moved and walked out of the kitchen, calling up the stairs, “Emmy? Can you come down for a minute please?”

Katie came back into the kitchen and it wasn’t long before Emmy appeared, her eyes red. Katie sighed and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry, I just, ” Emmy sniffed. “He was so rude and…” “Sweetie, we’re not mad.” Katie shook her head, steering the girl across the hall “We just want to talk to you, about what he said,” she gestured at one of the seats by the breakfast bar, “sit.”

Emmy did as she was told and Steve placed Jamie in the pack and play at the corner of the room. There was a minute or so silence before Katie slid a mug of hot chocolate, containing marshmallows and cream across the counter to Emmy, then passed Steve a coffee, picking up her own drink before she rounded the counter and sat on a stool next to Emmy, Steve staying where he was, the base of his back leaning against the worktop opposite them.

“So your dad told me what happened.” Katie began “And we want to talk to you about what that little jerk said to you.”

“I shouldn’t have let him get to me.” Emmy shrugged “I know what he was saying was crap but…” “If your dad had a dollar for every time he had reacted to something he shouldn’t have done he’d be richer than Tony.” Katie smiled and Steve gave a scoff.

“You’re a fine one to talk.” He raised an eyebrow at his wife and she grinned.

“And as for throwing you out once you’re old enough,” Katie shook her head, “you’re with us for as long as you wanna be. And then even when you don’t want to be, and you move out, we’ll be keeping tabs on you, annoying you, like Tony does to me.”

Emmy smiled and wiped at her eyes.

“You said he’s been picking on you for a while?” Steve asked “What made you snap today?” Emmy shrugged “I guess I was just fed up with it and when he was laughing about my name on my test paper, and he called me an orphan rat I saw red.” Katie took a deep breath, she was furious but before she could say anything Steve spoke, a frown creasing his brow.

“What do you mean he was laughing at your name?” “My surname.” Emmy shrugged “On stuff like the register and things at school its Rogers but on my official test papers for my grades it has to be McKellen, because Rogers isn’t my real name. And he was laughing saying that I didn’t belong anywhere.” Steve and Katie locked eyes and Steve was the first one to break away.

“Does it bother you, that your name isn’t Rogers?”

“Not normally.” She shrugged

“What if we made it so?” Katie asked.

“What, like change it legally?” “That’s one way of doing it.” Steve shrugged. “The other is we adopt you.” Katie looked at her husband and smiled. This was something they’d mentioned in passing to one another a few times but never really talked about in any detail as, well, to them things were fine as they were. But now, well, it just felt right. The next step for them all. Making her status as their daughter official.

“Adopt me?” Emmy’s voice was a whisper.

“Yeah.” Katie nodded. “Look, Em, as far as we’re concerned you’re already our daughter, and not just a foster one either. It’s merely a formality. But it’s up to you.” “Do you want to think about it?” Steve asked.

“No.” Emmy shook her head as she looked up tears in her eyes. “No, I don’t want to think about it. I’d love it, I really would.” Katie smiled as the girl threw her arms round her shoulders and began to sob. Steve put his mug down on the counter next to him and strode round to wrap his large arms around both his girls until a loud screech form the corner of the room made them all look up. Jamie was stood gripping the side of his play pen, clearly disgruntled at being left out of the hug.

“Alright pal, point taken.” Steve picked him up and carried him back to where Emmy was now wiping her eyes. He handed the tot to his older sister and Katie grinned.

“Family hug?” She opened her arms and Emmy laughed, as the four of them snuggled together in a huddle.

*****

March 2021

Despite Steve’s best attempts to ignore it, there was something in what that little shit had said to Emmy that had really bothered him. The Avengers fucked up. It wasn’t an alien thought, he often found himself thinking back to how they had failed but he normally shook himself out of it. They’d done the best they could, they simply hadn’t stood a chance.

The thing was, not all of the public saw that. On more than one occasion the remaining Avengers had all experienced some kind of vitriol from the public, Natasha still receiving hate mail for them all at the compound. Whilst people he met understood, it was always the ones that didn’t which stuck in Steve’s mind, but he’d never had anything more than the odd whispered insult or dirty look come his way, that was until a few day’s after Jamie’s first birthday.

He was in the store with Emmy, picking up a few bits and pieces for the family gathering they were having to celebrate Jamie turning one and he could feel someone’s eyes on him, which wasn’t unusual. What was unusual, however, was the tap on the shoulder her received as he tossed a few items from the list Katie had given him into the trolley.

“I thought it was you.”

Steve turned to see a dark haired man, the same height as him looking back.

“Can I help you?” Steve asked politely.

The man snorted “I thought at one point, yeah, but you didn’t, this…us…what the world is now, it’s all your fault.” Steve took a deep breath, and spotted Emmy returning to the aisle he was in with an armful of snacks he had sent her for.

“Sir-” Steve began, trying to placate the man but before he could do anything the guy had punched him straight in the face. It wasn’t a hard blow, but Steve hadn’t been expecting it. Or the subsequent blows for that matter.

He was vaguely aware Emmy was screaming, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a security guard hurrying towards him. Before he reached them, Emmy had kicked the man hard in the shin and was shouting at him, as he hopped on his good leg. Steve doubled over, the ringing in his ears subsiding as he pinched at his nose which was streaming blood.

“Oh my God.” A female voice said “Billy, what…” she looked up at Steve and paled “Captain, oh God, I’m so sorry…he’s…” Steve waved away another member of the public who had come to help, insisting he was fine. Taking a deep breath he looked up and saw the man was now crying, his head buried into his wife’s shoulders.

“We…we lost our son.” The lady continued, with a choked voice. “He hasn’t dealt with it so well.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve bowed his head, it was all he could think to say.

“It isn’t you fault” The lady shook her head. “And he doesn’t think that, not really, it’s just we never got a proper explanation, you know, bar official government statements. No real help to come to terms with anything.” “That doesn’t mean he can just punch the crap outta my dad!” Emmy blazed, indignantly and Steve lay a hand on her shoulder. “Emmy.” He shook his head gently before he turned to the woman. “I’m sorry that no one was there for you and I’m sorry that we couldn’t do more. But we tried.” The last three words were almost a plea to her, trying to make her understand they had tried, boy did they try. She cast him another sad look before she led her husband away.

“You ok?” Steve looked down at his daughter.

“Me?” She frowned “What about you?” “Had worse.” Steve mumbled, gently touching his nose “Let’s get out stuff and get home before it starts to set. I don’t fancy having to re-break it.”

**** Katie was sat smiling as Natasha was holding Jamie up, his hands curled round her fingers as she guided him round the living room.

“Won’t be long until he’s doing this himself.” The red head smiled, and Katie grinned.

“He’s growing so fast.”

“Think you’ll have another?” Nat looked at her.

Katie shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, Steve would have a football team full if I let him but, who knows.”

Nat smiled and Katie’s attention turned back to her son who was toddling in front of his Auntie. He was looking more and more like his father each day and was now a substantial little chunk who was pretty strong and robust too. Small bumps and knocks didn’t seem to phase him at all, and the other day he’d been playing with a tonka truck and had fallen onto it, flattening it completely. He’d screamed blue murder, more over the fact his toy was broken than he had been hurt, but it had made both his parents realise that he was definitely half Super Soldier and wasn’t inheriting any of Steve’s pre-serum ailments, much to Steve’s relief.

Their attention was taken as all three of them heard the car pull up the gravel drive and Jamie gave an excited giggle and started moving his legs even faster at the sound, understanding it to mean his father was back. Smiling to herself, Katie watched as he giggled and started trying to run to the door, and when it opened she looked up fully expecting Steve to grin and swoop his boy up into his arms, except what greeted her made her hand fly up to her mouth. His shirt was covered with blood and his nose was out of shape.

“Shit.” Katie stood up and headed straight to him, gently reaching up to slide a finger to his face, tilting it so she could see. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine sweetheart” he said gently.

“What the hell happened?” Nat asked as she picked Jamie up, who was still squirming to get to his father, completely nonplussed by what was going on.

“Some guy in the store punched him.” Emmy explained, and Katie looked at her daughter, whose eyes were swollen, she’d been crying.

“What? Why?” she frowned. “Em, can you grab me an ice pack out the freezer?” Steve asked before she could answer, she was upset enough as it was and he didn’t want her seeing or hearing what was coming next. She nodded and headed off.

“Steve.” Katie watched as he sat down on the sofa, shaking his head.

“Just reset it before it starts to heal anymore.” He grumbled. “Quickly before she gets back.”

Katie sat next to him and reached out gently. He grit his teeth as she snapped his nose back into place. Across the room Nat flinched at the crunching noise it made.

“Fuck.” Steve cursed softly before laying his head back against the cushions of the couch steadying his breathing as his eyes began to water from the pain. He knew it would heal quickly but that didn’t stop it hurting like hell.

“You gonna tell us what happened?” Katie asked, looking at him.

“Some guy at the store recognised me and started screaming that it was all our fault, the Snap, and hit me.”

“Must have been a pretty hard swing.” Nat said gently, bouncing Jamie up and down, distracting him with the Cap teddy bear she had grabbed off the floor. Jamie grinned at the bear and grabbed it, sticking the ear of it into his mouth.

“He didn’t just hit you once, Dad.” Emmy said gently as she returned, passing him the ice pack.

“How many times was it?” Katie frowned.

“Four ,maybe.” he shrugged

“Try Six” Emmy muttered.

“Six?!” Katie’s voice grew loud

“And you just let him?” Nat’s snorted. “What else could I do Nat?” Steve sighed, “I couldn’t hit him back…” “Yes, you damned well could!” Katie seethed. “Fuck!”

“Language.” Steve chastised playfully. “Besides, wasn’t really going to hit him once Em had kicked him in the shin.”

“You kicked him?” Katie looked at Emmy who shrugged.

“He was screaming and punching so I kicked him, real hard, and then told him that he was an asshole, and everyone had lost, and that he should try fighting Thanos in a field in Wakanda himself if he could do any better…” “Then the guy’s wife appeared.” Steve sighed, pressing the ice pack to his face.

“Yeah, she was nice.” Emmy nodded. “Said they had lost their son and she was so sorry.” “But they’d never really had a chance to ask questions or had an explanation other than what the Government had said.” Steve’s voice was muffled slightly from the pack. “But it got me thinking in the car about how many other people out there like that.” “So we had an idea.” Emmy nodded “Support groups.” “Support groups?” Katie frowned.

“Yeah, we have them at school.” Emmy said “Somewhere for people to go and talk about their issues and feelings.” “That’s actually not a bad idea.” Nat mused and Steve nodded.

“I know. Surprised we didn’t think of it sooner.”

“Well we’ve had other things on our minds.” Katie popped a shoulder, gently.

“I’m gonna help.” Emmy smiled. “We’re gonna brainstorm ideas later after the party.”

“Yeah, on that, do me a favour and no one mention this to Tony when he gets here.” Steve groaned as he stood up, ice pack still on his nose. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”

Leaving Emmy to watch Jamie, Nat and Katie unloaded the car and took the supplies to the kitchen. Steve showered quickly and came back to help them, and it wasn’t long before the food was sorted, Katie’s ability to cook how easily she did never ceased to amaze Steve. Before long the gang arrived and Morgan toddled in, holding Tony’s hand before he let go and she bee-lined for Emmy who was sat on the living room floor where she had been sat looking at a book with Jamie.

“Hey Moo!” Emmy grinned at the younger girl who sat with a soft thud next to her, leaning into her older cousin for a hug.

Tony watched them for a short while before he asked if Emmy was okay and then headed into the kitchen to find Pepper already clutching a glass of champagne. Katie handed him a beer as she pulled him into a hug and he shook Steve’s hand.

“You’re in the same room as usual.” Katie looked at him. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted Moo in with you guys or not so there’s the travel cot in there or she can have the room over from you…” “She can stay with us.” Tony nodded, taking a pull from his beer.

“Where is she?” Natasha asked.

“With Emmy. She adores that kid.”

“Have you told her the paperwork has been finalised?” Pepper asked looking at Katie and Steve who both shook their head.

“No, we’re gonna surprise her with that later.” Katie smiled.

“We got her a little something.” Tony swallowed his beer. “You know, just to welcome her officially to the mad house.” “What is it?” Steve asked suspiciously.

“Nothing Iron Man or Tony Stark related.” Pepper looked at Steve. “I promise.” Tony shrugged. “Spoil sport.” The five adults all headed into the large living room, Jamie grinned up at his uncle and crawled over to him. Tony swung him up in the air and smiled, that is until Jamie head-butted him by accident.

“Oww…shhhhhhhhugar!” The billionaire corrected his curse before wincing. “Man, Rogers, this kid has your knuckle head.” Steve smirked. “He’s still half Stark.”

“Mind you, you should be grateful he doesn’t take after his mom. She was a horror.” “Was not.” Katie shot back indignantly. “Kiddo, you were a pain in the ass.” Tony sniggered. “You stuck bread in the VCR. Dad hit the roof.” “I thought it was a toaster.” Katie shrugged as the room laughed. “Mind you, not like we have to worry about that now seeing as VCRs went out in the stone age.” “Was that an age joke?” Tony smirked. “Do I have to respond with one about your husband or…” Steve rolled his eyes “Go ahead, be original.” “You know you’re almost as sarcastic as she is now.” Nat but in, pointing at Katie who grinned before she looked at Tony.

“You remember what dad used to say?”

“Sarcasm is a measure of potential,” Tony imitated their father’s voice. “And if that’s true…” “You’ll be a great man someday.” Katie finished, the two of them laughing.

Despite the crappy start to the day, it was a nice afternoon surrounded by their family. They drank, ate and eventually it was time for the cake which Katie and Steve were excited about, for good reason. Katie placed it down on the coffee table in the middle of the lounge, complete with candles. For the first time the group got a look at it, and Steve heard Emmy gasp. Half the large cake was iced in blue, the other half was lilac and across the top the word ‘Happy’ spanned both halves, before the next line read birth on the blue side and adoption on the other, before the word day sat underneath.

Emmy glanced up at her parents, her eyes filling with tears. “You mean…” Steve grinned and handed her the envelope he’d retrieved from the kitchen, which she took in shaking hands. “Signed, sealed, done. You’re officially a Rogers, Em.”

“Poor thing.” Tony mumbled, earning himself a slap round the back of the head from Natasha.

Together the Rogers’ children blew out their candles (well, Katie blowing Jamie’s out on his behalf before the boy could grab one of them and burn himself) and then Emmy turned to look at Steve and Katie before throwing herself forwards, her arms round both their waists. Steve’s arm fell to her back and he pressed a kiss to Katie’s cheek before Tony stepped forward and handed Emmy a small gift bag.

“It’s just a little something.” He smiled. “Just to say welcome to the family, officially we mean, because you’re already part of the…” He rolled his eyes as Emmy blinked up at him. “Just take it, kid.”

Emmy took the bag and opened it, her eyes widening as she looked at the box, emblazoned with the word Pandora. Katie peered down as Emmy opened it and smiled at the charm bracelet which was inside. It held charms, the letters EJR for her initials, Emily Jayne Rogers.

“Thank you.” She whispered before she gave Tony a hug, then Pepper. She stepped back and turned around, her eyes brimming with tears. “This is the best day ever!”

And despite the shitty start to it in the store, Steve was inclined to agree it hadn’t been that bad at all.

Chapter 47

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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foxingpeculiar · 3 years

Text

Bitching. I need to vent this morning.

I have been up for less than 20 minutes and I’m already completely done with today.

First, good ol’ insomnia strikes again--I went to bed at 1:30 and fell asleep around 5. When I DID finally fall asleep, I had 1) a really awkward sex dream, followed immediately by 2) a dream where I’m being kidnapped and tortured by a crooked cop. So that’s fun. Then yesterday, I discovered my car battery died because it’s been cold and I haven’t had anywhere to drive in like 3 weeks. It’ll be fine when I can get it jumped, but I haven’t been able to deal with that yet, so I ordered some groceries to be delivered between specifically between 12-2, but I get woken up by messages about it at 10am, so now I’m running on 5 hours of interrupted sleep. And like, I’m not a spring chicken anymore. When I was like 22, I could sleep 4 hours and be basically fine, but now? I get less than six and I feel drunk and nauseous and all my limbs just hurt. Oh, and part of the reason I ordered groceries was because I’m out of coffee. So there’s that.

Plus my computer apparently took it onto itself to restart, so all the tabs I left open for work at my actual job are now gone. I don’t think I lost any saved work, but it’s gonna take a bit to track them all down again.

And I have a bunch of schoolwork I have to get done today that I just DO NOT care about right now. I’m supposed to annotate this chapter, but I just don’t have anything to say. And I have 8 poems, and 4 flash-fiction stories to critique before Tuesday and I’m just SO TIRED. AND like 100 pages of reading to do in a novel (at least this book is more interesting than the last one).

And I’ve had practically no direct human contact for months and still have 2 weeks until my first vaccine shot, but we might go on lockdown again because this state is full of rednecks who can’t be bothered to take basic precautions so we’re leading the nation in the latest spike, natch. (Did something stupid happen in the news? If it wasn’t FL or TX, it was probably MI.) And I’m probably going to move down to MO next summer, which will be great once it’s done, but it’s going to be SO EXPENSIVE that I basically have no disposable income for the next year. I mean I can probably squeeze out a few little incentives for myself, but it’s gonna be small things only and I’m gonna feel shitty about it anyway because I feel guilty about EVERYTHING.

What I definitely can’t afford anymore is weed, which I’ve been self-medicating with for years, which creates its own set of problems that I’m not thrilled about, but it’s been at least effective in 1) reducing the panic attacks that I get all the fucking time without it, and 2) keeping me chill enough to be able to manage basic shit like keeping the apartment clean. But it’s so expensive here--in OR I could walk out of a store with an ounce for $50--here that’s about what 1/8 costs. And a federal market would even out those prices some, but noooooooooo, America has to have a century long “war on drugs” (how the fuck do you fight a “war” on an abstract concept?), that was 1) founded on a history of blatant, not-even-disguised anti-Black/Asian/Mexican racism, 2) features rampant and often ridiculously untrue propaganda disseminated by policymakers who have no actual experience with the subject (I was literally told as a child, in school, that you could die from smoking a joint--I remember that clearly), 3) cost taxpayers billions upon billions of dollars, 4) ruined as many lives as the drugs themselves, and 5) accomplished nothing other than lining the pockets of actual, violent criminals. So real fucking slow clap there, America.

And okay, maybe I can get on some actual medication soon, cos I do have a doctor’s appointment scheduled finally (after spending months trying to navigate the fucked up healthcare system in this country--when an actual insurance agent tells you to lie on your insurance form to get coverage, maybe something is wrong? Just a thought). But that appointment is definitely going to be more focused on the unexplained gastrointestinal bleeding I’ve been having intermittently for like... months now (what prompted the whole “I’m going to deal with trying to get private insurance” debacle in the first place). So I’m super excited to find out what’s going on there, cos like... a bleeding ulcer seems like maybe the best-case scenario, you know? Plus, just... everything. That we keep elevating people to power who have no problem shitting on me (transphobic, anti-asian rhetoric) or my family (Islamophobia) with no fucking consequences. That there are people all over the place here flying the confederate flag (who have lived in a Union state their entire lives, so tell me it’s about history, I dare you) on their trucks talking about how their “American way of life” is under threat without a hint of fucking self-awareness or irony, that... just... I can’t even go on.

And I know I come from a place of privilege in all of that bullshit--I have a basically stable family that would be middle-class if that were still a thing (which it’s not, because all economic policy is designed by the very people who are trying to flout the rules that apply to everyone else), so every time I start feeling like this and getting mad, it just ends up turning back around on itself and there’s that guilt again. And all it would take is just getting away from this scarcity mindset, this attitude of fear that people have that just aren’t fucking necessary in this world--but what are you supposed to do about that? You can lead horses to water, but not only do they not drink, they kick you in the face while they’re dying of dehydration.

It’s enough to make one want to just go back to bed forever. But I can’t, cos I have shit to do.

But typing out a rant now and then does help.

#personal #bitching

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piratewithvigor · 4 years

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Love Break My Heart: Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: A half-life relationship is disintegrating at the seams. Neither of them is good for the other, but after 14 years together, they don’t know how to be with each other anymore.

Word Count: 2179

A/N: This is a prize story written for @slashscowboyboots that is getting written super fast because I seem to be on a roll. Unless I get hit with a massive plot bunny, the next chapter will be the final one.

I’m running. It’s a distant memory from long ago, but I can feel the uneven gravel under my sneakers. Every little pebble getting stuck in the grooves of the sole. My lungs are aching for air, but I’m not slowing down. I can’t afford to slow down. The tree shows itself over the horizon and I exhale hard in relief. The tree is safety presenting itself to us, allowing us reprise.

I don’t slow down until I grab hold of the tree, the bark scraping the skin on my hand and wrist. Only then do my feet stop moving. Axl arrives moments after I do, tagging into pause in much the same way, but not drawing blood from his palm like I did.

His face is much the same as it is now. A jawline that could cut glass and lips appearing just as soft. His hair is a little shorter and not quite as straight, but he’s already well on his way to having it be too long for most of Indiana. The one thing that’s never changed are his eyes. Even as he’s gasping for air with his hands on his knees, he looks up at me and his eyes are the same. They remind me of the day I first noticed them: a stormy day with a grey sky shadowing over green fields. We’d snuck out of class to smoke under the bleachers of the football field and got caught in the storm. We stayed mostly dry there and got the best view of the downpour. Axl had said something that made me look into his eyes and notice them for the first time. His words exactly are lost to me.

Once Axl catches his breath, he straightens up and grins.

“So you beat me here; big whoop.”

“I don’t think that’s what the deal was,” I counter, crossing my arms as I lean against the tree.

“What deal? I don’t remember a deal.” He’s trying to look innocent and for a moment, it almost works on me. But no fourteen-year-old buys crap that obvious.

“C’mon, Bill. You gotta do it. I beat you fair and square.”

Axl sighs before taking a few steps back from me to give himself space. To his credit, he isn’t one to back down from a bet, no matter how stupid it was. And this was the epitome of stupid.

“Friday night and the lights are low, looking out for a place to go…” His voice sounds ridiculous when mentally compared to the original vocals of Dancing Queen, but his attitude towards it is perfect. With the front of his hair fluffed out to the sides, he looks just like a ginger version of Agnetha Fältskog.

I’m cracking up during the entire performance. Partly because of watching my best friend make a fool of himself to no one but me, but also because he’s putting so much effort into it. I didn’t even know he knew all the words to Dancing Queen, but life surprises you daily. The chorus is the moment he truly belts out into the open field. It’s the moment when I watch all of the cares leave his body. All the stress. Everything he has to suffer through at his house is forgotten and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was enjoying himself.

I’m almost sad to hear the song end, but it does. And with an almost regal bow that I’m sure caused Axl to brush the grass underneath with his elbow. Just to play along, I’m applauding. I’m sure he thinks it’s to make fun of him, which is what the whole ordeal was supposed to be about in the first place, but there’s a hint of sincerity in there that I hope he picks up on.

“Thank you, thank you, all,” he declares, speaking to an imaginary audience. “We’ve been ABBA and now we’re going to shut the fuck up so no one has to hear that goddamn song ever again.”

“Bold words coming from someone who knows every line.” I smirk, sitting down with my back against the tree.

“Everyone knows every line. When’s the last day you haven’t heard that fucking noise on the radio?” He gripes, sitting down across from me.

“Fair enough. Wish they’d play more of the good stuff. Like that new Aerosmith album.”

Axl covers his ears in a hurry.

“Don’t say anything about it! I’ve been saving my allowance for three weeks to get it, so don’t spoil it!” I chuckle and reach over to pull his hands away from his ears.

“I won’t say anything, but why don’t you just come to my place to listen to it?”

“I can’t listen to anything for the first time with someone else in the room. It ruins the experience.”

“That seems stupid.”

“It’s not stupid! It’s like… It’s like the movies, y’know?” I raise my eyebrow at him. He’s fumbling for an explanation hard enough that he looks like he might fall over. “Like, when you go to the movies, sometimes you can go with someone if you don’t really care about it, because half your attention is watching how the other person reacts the entire time and it doesn’t matter. But if you go alone, you can really pay attention to the details.”

“Guess that makes sense. You’ve really thought this through, huh?”

“You gotta. What’s the point in enjoying something unless it’s the best experience it can be?”

Axl’s eyes have lit up while he’s talking. If I’m being honest, my mind is in two places as I listen: half focused on what he’s saying and half watching him say it. Axl doesn’t talk with his hands too much like how some people do when they get passionate. He talks with his eyes. You can only see it if you’re truly looking for it. It might be the reason why none of the adults ever thought he cared about anything. But he truly does.

“Is being alone all you need to enjoy an album?” I eventually ask, on the realisation that I haven’t said anything in a few moments.

“Usually. Sometimes I smoke a little, but that’s only for, like, Pink Floyd or something. Speaking of which…” He gives me a look and I know he knows I know what he’s talking about. It’s still fun to dick around with him anyway.

“Speaking of what?”

“C’mon, Jeff…”

“You must have me confused with some kind of scoundrel,” I smirk, pulling my cap down over my eyes.

“I have you confused with no one, you pothead dipshit,” Axl laughs, flicking my cap off.

“Well, since you were so mean to me, I’m just going to smoke it all, then.”

“I’ll frisk you over it.” He says it like a threat, but my heart still skips a beat when he says it.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

I hadn’t noticed we were in a Mexican standoff until we were already knee-deep. He was on his knees, staring me down without a hint of joking in his expression. I was doing my best to keep the same stoicism on my face, but something in the air was making me want to giggle. It was probably only a minute or so before I cracked and reached into my shirt pocket to toss the little baggie of joints at him.

“Yeah, I’m the pothead,” I snickered as I watched him light one up eagerly.

“You’re baked more than a Dunkin Donuts,” he countered, exhaling happily.

“No shit, idiot. Donuts are fried.”

“Just like your brain from how much you smoke.”

The back-and-forth continues and only grows sillier as we smoke. We both consider ourselves experts on pot. Real hot shit because we know how to do it without coughing too much. Typical young teenager dumbassery.

The evening is growing later and our conversation is calmer. Less silly and more dreamy. Axl is no longer sitting across from me, but beside me with his back to the tree as well to make passing the joint back and forth easier. Our shoulders are brushing and sometimes hands as well. If I weren’t a little high, I never would have thought anything of it, but my mind keeps getting drawn back to every detail about the kid sitting beside me. Details like how he always smells like old books on Monday morning because he spent all of the day before at church. How his clothes never quite fit him right because they’re either from when he was a kid, or he’s lost weight. How soft his hair feels when a light breeze blows a few strands into my face.

“When we get out of here, we’re going to be huge,” he murmurs, finally accepting that we’ve smoked the joint down to the nub and puts it out.

“I mean, yeah, obviously. Who wouldn’t want to listen to you, Miss Disco Queen?” I tease. He punches me lightly in the arm.

“I’m serious. We could totally make it. We’ve got the stuff.”

“And when have you ever heard of someone from Indiana really making it big?”

“No one from Indiana, exactly, but tons of hick kids make it big. Like, Liverpool is the hick town of England, I think.”

“You serious?”

“I mean, probably. They sound like hick English guys when they talk.”

“And Buddy Holly was from a hick Texas town.”

“Jeff, he died when he was 23. Not the greatest role model.”

“He was 22, but think of it: that was almost 20 years ago and people still like him.”

“What’s your point?”

I shrug and cross my fingers behind my head to cushion it from the tree. “Dunno anymore. Guess that anyone can make it with the right stuff.”

Axl seems to agree with me because he doesn’t say anything else.

The moment is one that sticks with me long afterwards. In the 14 years since we’ve been 14, I still remember every detail. My back is aching against the rough back poking through my shirt and I know Axl’s back is hurting from the beating he’d gotten a few days ago. The bruises were finally turning away from the nasty black and blue, but now they were yellow, which was almost worse. He’s leaning on me a little bit. Not in a way that implied anything, just in a way that expressed his exhaustion from the evening. The sun is setting in front of us and I almost wish I had brought my sunglasses. I usually never go anywhere without them, but the race from my house to the tree was something I couldn’t risk losing them on. In a way, I’m glad. It means nothing is blocking the colours. The sky is the same orange as Axl’s hair. The setting sun over the horizon feels the same way the colour appears; warm, safe. I’m feeling the gold-laced orange on my face and against my fingers as I lower my hands from behind my head and tentatively wrap one around Axl’s shoulders. He doesn’t move beyond adjusting to allow me to place my arm comfortably and I take it to mean he’s okay with the change. Just in case I took his body language wrong, I turn to him to check and my body freezes. The glow of the dusk is still radiating from him, making his hair glow. It feels like I’m holding a small ball of fire under my arm. He turns to look up at me and I feel I should turn away, but I can’t bring myself to. The sight is too spectacular to have end.

Axl ends it for me.

Before I can apologise for my staring, his lips are on mine. They’re just as soft as I always guessed they were. Plush and yielding and unwilling to let me back away. He tastes like the weed we just smoked with a hint of the burgers my mom made for us only a few hours ago. He tastes like Axl. Feels like Axl. I could make all the comparisons I wanted to, but at the end of the day, he was more than the sum of the parts I love about him. He’s Axl. My Axl.

He pulls away hardly an inch and I find myself as breathless as I was after sprinting a mile. Breathing isn’t as important as it once was. Nothing seems to be. Everything that’s important to me is already here.

“I hope that was okay…” He whispers, the lasting sunlight illuminating the blush spotting his cheeks. “I’ve been wanting to do that for months.”

“You’re not the only one,” I respond, cupping his face in my free hand. I pull him close and kiss him again, dissipating all the fear I know he held during the first.

I go back to this memory often. Reminding myself of the love we held for each other once upon a time. I’m back in it again tonight as I sit alone at the kitchen table, holding an ice pack to my face to ease the swelling after my Fireball successfully got me with a lamp.

#Writing #Love Break My Heart #GNR #Classic Rock #Axl Rose #Izzy Stradlin #Izal #Fanfiction

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bites-kms · 4 years

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Around the block... the world!

Obama claimed for 4 more years... Well, in my case, it ended up being 4 more kilos! I realized I had have always problem with the merges and mixes of food. For example, eating an schnitzel or milanesa with pasta - apparently a very common thing to do in Uruguay- for me it’s terrible. It doesn’t match. And although I love traveling, tasting and discovering multiple and diverse flavors, the quantity and diversification has never been an issue, but, eating everything at the same time is.

And, when it comes to NYC, I experience this on its maximum expression on Delis. I just cant deal with them: a muslim guy, specialist in kebbabs, will wrap your fajitas and served them with a salad bowl, some fried riced, chicken tikka masala and spring rolls. Dont forget the fried mozzarella sticks with some sushi and fresh sashimi.

New York has millions of great thing. But one that’s on the top 5 let’s say, is the possibility that gives you of traveling around the world with your mouth within a subway ride. I experienced this climax when recently arrived from HK. I had the chance to eat the same goodness I had in Tsim Sha Tsui 2 weeks ago one block away from Times Square, and by the same, I mean THE SAME restaurant, so imagine... how crazy is that??

So here they are, fighting my weirdness of “avoid mixing food” mantra, in no particular order, in a mix and match menage of options, the delights and beautiful dishes I’ve been indulging myself with:

German Food Comma @ Spritzenhaus 33

Chicken Biriani, Masala Mutton with Garlic & Cheese Pratta @ Milon

Best Mexican Brunch: Huevos Rancheros and Special Nachos @ Cosme

Afternoon Vegan Cravings: Deviled Eggs and a Delicious Cabbage Pure & Top Notch Waffles @ The Butcher’s Daughter

Top Hipster Brunching @ Five Leaves

Trying to decide what dish to have in Flatiron? Go for the Hand-made Meat Lasagna @ Eataly

Hidden and out-of-the-radar Italian? Try the Fresh Burrata @ Annella

Looking forward for Indonesian? Go for Deviled Eggs & Spicy Papaya Salad @ Selamat Pagi (sadly closed)

Conney Island ignites the inner Italo-American Tony we all have inside? Put that Pepperonni Pizza @ Totono’s in ma face!

Aussie you said? NYC has it! Mouthwatering Avocado & Eggs Toast @ Roxy

Mascarpone Filled Dates with Parma Ham @ Briciola

Best Octopus @ Her Name Was Carmen

Tuna Poke at Seamores

Best Lobster Roll @ The Lobster Joint and/or Luke’s

First-date spots and best bone marrow @ 21 Greenpoint

Looking for the real Mexican taste, avoiding all Tex-Mex BS? La Esquina, with the speakeasy bonus, is da best!

Korean Instagramable dessert? Yes, please! @Room cafe

For authentic Nepalese food: Nepalese Indian Restaurant

Visit the amazing @ Archestratus for a delight for your eyes (they sell the best cooking books) and your belly with these unique Arancine

Some more tips: -For the finest Oysters with a view in TriBeCa? Grand Banks -Best Chinese Szechuan is found @ Kings Imperial. -Drinks and Italian charcuterie @ Have & Mayer. -Craving for Peruvian fusion? @LlamaInn has your back. -Lilia is your one-stop Italian place. -Aperol Spritz @ Serria, Eataly rooftop. -For a Singaporean feast, @ Rasa is your place to go.

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fieriframes · 15 days

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[I'm about two blocks away to check out another real-deal joint. This time, they serve it all in a taco. This is La Santisima. I've never had Mexican food like this.]

#s22e07 sweet savory and saucy #guy fieri #guyfieri #diners drive-ins and dives #real-deal joint #la santisima #mexican food #taco

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universal-casey · 5 years

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This is my Country Humans OC (oh boy). And he’s a smol gay child. Like.. 4 feet tall lmao. Here’s a small list: As a Character– Name: Tigal (Pronounced “tee-gal” bc it’s Spanish) Age: 27 (very recently discovered, the land was claimed by Mexico, but it allowed the native people to be their own country. Mexican territory) Sexuality: Super gay Looks: Height: 4'0" (1.22 m) Body Type: Well toned in the torso area, but very effeminate limbs Body Color: Red up to the joints in the elbows and knees, then turn blue. Gold covers his finger tips Hair: Here the blue and white just follow through the face, but if the hair is drawn as a separate entity, it will be white. The ponytail, however, is different. There is a puff of white and a puff of red held together by a gold hair tie Eyes: Gold stars, shrink to small pinpoints when scared/nervous/etc. Clothes: Brown vest, dark/muted red T-shirt, khaki cargo pants, brown sandals or black sneakers Accessories: Star-shaped gold earrings on both ears Personality: Likes: Fish tacos, archaeology, geology, astrology (yes, with the star signs), pretty much every country he comes across (especially Russia), being called cute, tall people (I’m talking towering tall) Dislikes: Being treated as a child, super cheesy meals, America pushing him to become a state or a US territory, heavy alcohol Traits: Very rambunctious and happy, and refuses to dislike someone without knowing them first. He’s pretty stubborn, but is very easily scared off/scared into submission. And as much as he hates to be considered a child, he very much acts like one, as in very innocent and trusting. Mexico is often the only one keeping him from being trapped into bad deals. He also is more of a stamina type. He cannot outsprint, but he can outrun a country. He’s very good at escaping/running away, but not so much at fighting back (tbh depending on the situation, he’s very likely to be way too into being held against his will). Family: Mexico (father), Cuba (Uncle), Spain (Grandfather) ///// Depending on the headcanon, his family can also include America as an Uncle As a Country– Flag: Standard rectangular flag, white triangle on top, red triangle on bottom, two blue triangles on either side with a gold star set in the middle of each Where it’s placed: Very small island country placed toward the middle of the Gulf of Mexico, about the size of the island Maui, but a bit smaller.  Ancient History: It was inhabited by a small sailing tribe that is an offset of the Mayans after they discovered it on a daily fishing trip out to sea. They soon built very Mayan-inspired temples, many of which are still kept up to this day. Not much history happened beyond that, as after it was settled the tribe managed to stay in a peaceful way with each other, thanks to the large supply of fish and the lack of other, rivaling tribes. This made the tribe (named the Chince tribe, called “American Polynesians” by mainland people) very peaceful, and very curious. Luckily they were passed over during the “discovery” of the Americas due to the small size of their island and also due to the placement, very far from the mainland coast. They do have a religion, a pagan one that follows many gods, but it’s far from malicious and demanding, and only really serves as an explanation for creation and for an afterlife. They serve their gods through small sacrifices of fish and native fruit. The main god is the god of the sea, S'Seo. He’s given the largest fish at the end of a fishing trip, in order to guarantee good luck for the next day in terms of weather and fish. Without the largest fish, S'Seo is speculated to intentionally give bad weather that scares off the fish.  Modern History: It begins a little earlier than the country actually started. About a few decades earlier, the American Coast Guard was in full force. A few small patrol boats came upon this island and went to investigate. They came upon this tribe, and were warmly welcomed by the Chince despite the obvious language barriers. Thanks to this warm welcome, and the well-prepared meals, the Coast Guard would return every so often to have a good meal during a patrol, and would teach English in exchange. Soon, word got out about this small island with its friendly inhabitants, and both American and Mexican officials came to claim the territory. Due to the previous teaching of English from the Coast Guard, they were not easily swindled into a deal with American officials, and instead chose to join Mexico. The reasoning for this is speculated to be so the Chince tribe could add a third official language to their belt, as they had no other real political concerns.  Upon discovering the Mayan inspired temples, and the very similar Mayan language, as well as the lack of culture erasure, Mexico’s native citizens called for a fierce protection of the Chince tribe and its customs, noting that they might be able to help understand archaeological evidence. As such, Mexico was urged to not fully assimilate the small island, and instead appointed it as a joint country, named Tigal. In reality, Tigal’s relationship with Mexico is nearly identical with the states’ relationship to the US, but Tigal is able to implement its own laws on the official religion, language, and conservation laws. (Tigal has no previous history with Russia, but the Chince tribe have shown to have a keen interest on the language and they wish to make it an official language) /////Somehow I managed to copy and paste this twice and I’m sorry////

#countryhumans #country humans #country humans rusame #country humans oc #oc country humans #Jesus this is long

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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610

What is a question you get asked too much? On these surveys, it’s definitely the color of my nails. :) :) :) Haha but in real life, it’s “How your sem?” which can get tiring as a conversation starter but which I appreciate nonetheless because it’s a way for us to look out for one another. Worst grade you've ever gotten? In high school, I managed to get the lowest possible grade my school gives, which is a 68 but that was on an examination; the lowest grade I got in my card was a 78. In college, my lowest mark was a 2.50 from a fucking econ class, which is probably equivalent to a C in the other side of the world. Do you like colorful sharpies? No, I don’t really use them a lot. Do you do chores? We’re all expected to wash our own dishes in the house but other than that my mom prefers doing all the tasks. Who is someone you haven't seen in a while? Angela, definitely. I don’t think I’ve seen her since her birthday in September.

Do you think double-jointed people can type better than most people? I don’t know any double-jointed people and I know even less about their typing speeds lol. Do you have nice neighbors? They don’t make fusses and there’s like zero drama in the neighborhood all year so I guess that makes them nice. Some kids are fucking annoying though and like to play INSIDE OUR GARAGE and ON OUR PATIO. I literally just demanded my parents this weekend to have a big ass gate made (with spikes, preferably hahahaha jk) so these kids can’t find their way to our house anymore. How many pets do you have? I claim ownership for one pet, which is my own dog, but we also have a cat in the house. It belongs to my sister and I’m not close with it. What is your favorite website? Wikipedia. If you find the right topic, it’ll pull you in like a black hole and you’ll be reading up articles for HOURS. It’s been happening to me since 2008 lmao. Last present you bought for someone? The last ever gift I bought before tapping out was a pair of cute Marikina sandals for Gab’s sister. But that day I also bought Instax film for my sister, a garlic press for Gab’s dad, and massage oils for Gab’s mom. Who did you hang out with last night? I was alone last night and was in my room reading about serial killers by 7:30 PM hahahaha. What is the reason behind the last time you laughed? I was watching Try Guys videos before falling asleep last night and they’re funny guys, so. Are you more clumsy or graceful? Clumsy... I don’t think I’ve ever been described as graceful. More shy or outgoing? Shy. But outgoing if with the right people. What is your favorite fruit? Avocado, I guess. Who are your 3 closest friends? Gabie and Angela are my two best friends but then all my friends after them are kinda equal in terms of how close I am with them... I guess my second-closest friend would be Laurice. Are you in a good mood? A little bit, because we’re seeing the fun side of family today. But I’ll generally be sad by default in the next few days just because it’s Christmas season, and I don’t like the holidays. Do you like Mexican food? Sure, I crave them occasionally. What’s your favorite month? April, because birth month. Do you like myspace? I didn’t enjoy it in the brief time I had it just because it was such a foreign thing, both figuratively and literally – I was *very* new to the internet so I didn’t quite understand the early social media culture just yet, and Myspace also was never a thing here because everyone was using Friendster and/or Multiply in Asia. What did you last eat? McDonald’s fried chicken. What is your favorite hobby? Right now, it’s gem/diamond painting. Gab got me a set for Christmas (she allowed me to open it early so I can deal with the depression early haha) and it’s super therapeutic and, I now realize, more fun than coloring. What is something you have always wanted to do? Go outside of Asia. What time is it? Exactly 8:45 AM. What are you listening to? I can hear my mom’s very loud and powerful fan upstairs, but I also hear her shuffling in the kitchen as she’s making breakfast. Are you better at math or spelling? Spelling. What color are your eyes? They are dark brown. Is the sun shining? Yes. Do you like the smell of cinnamon? Now that it’s breakfast time I would certainly enjoy smelling it. Do you ever go camping? I’ve never done it before.

Last thing that creeped you out? I was watching a Try Guys video where they tried to drive while sleep-deprived, and the first half of the video was them vlogging their experience staying up the entire night – by 4 AM they were a bit delirious and they plugged in this weird montage of distorted hallucinations with sounds of children laughing, and I really didn’t enjoy that lol. Have you ever climbed through a window? I don’t think I have, no. We were locked out of the house once but we made my sister climb one of the windows because she was absolutely stick-thin as a kid. Do you like rock or rap better? Rock. Are you in a relationship? Yes. Do you like the band Hollywood Undead? I was never a fan. What was your favorite music video of 2008? I was only watching Beyoncé videos at that point hahahaaaaa. My favorite video of hers from 2008 was Diva. Are you wearing socks? Nope. Last candy you ate? I had a Crunch bar the other day. What is something that grosses you out? Accidentally touching food that already landed in the sink and is soaking wet. Do you take more than 10 surveys a day? Nah, not anymore. That was me when I started though. Do you prefer summer or winter? Winter, even though I’ve never experienced it yet and just because I mostly dislike summer. Do you watch football? No. I never got the hype but I am willing to watch Gab’s sisters’, who both play football, games. When do you usually go to bed? It’s always different. I can go to bed by 8:30 or at 4 AM, or in between. When did you last login to myspace? 2009, maybe. Who is the last person you called? My mom. What do you like about Tuesdays? That’s my car’s coding day, so that means I get to use one of the family cars which is slightly larger but looks a hella lot more luxurious lol. Do you like Taco Bell? Love Taco Bell. Sucks that it’s only in malls I never ever go to.

#survey #surveys

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radwolf76 · 5 years

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FLASHBack: Week 48 - The Real Legend of Zelda

A month ago on FLASHBack, we looked at two scary Flashes by Mexican Flash animator Jerry “Granfaloon” Padilla. At the time, I commented that those two animations weren’t what he was known for as a Flash animator. Today, we’ll be looking at what was his claim to fame: The Real Legend series, a comedic parody of the plot to what many would argue is the best outing in the Legend of Zelda franchise: Ocarina of Time. (Those arguments being dead wrong, of course – the pinnacle of the series objectively being A Link to The Past, but for whatever reason, that’s not the one Granfaloon made his Flashes about.) There have been five chapters of Padilla’s work to date, and all five of them were awarded Newgrounds’ Daily Feature award when he uploaded them. Episodes 2-5 also were featured on Newgrounds’ Frontpage within 24 hours of their uploads, as well as taking the first place Weekly Users’ Choice Awards of their respective weeks. The second and third installments also were named Newgrounds’ Review Crew Picks.

The Real Legend was uploaded to Newgrounds on 16 December 2003, five years after Ocarina of Time’s original release, but in the same year that a port of the game was made available for GameCube. It introduces the main characters of the series: Link, and Navi. Unlike in the game itself, where she’s little more than a z-targeting cursor with fairy wings, here we are occasionally shown Navi in fanservice-y close-up. There’s also the obligatory Matrix homage, because Flash animators just couldn’t get enough of them. We’re shown Link dealing with the Temple of Time, and meeting Zelda Sheik.

The Real Legend 2 was released on 29 March 2005. This episode touches upon Link obtaining the Hookshot from Dampé’s ghost, visiting the Lon Lon Ranch, and also the Forest Temple. Link’s daydream of rescuing Saria, is a dramatic art-shift where Padilla shows off his skills at rendering Link more in the style of Adult Link from OoT and other games such as the then newly announced Twilight Princess, instead of this series’ usual depiction which has him looking a bit like Nester from the old Nintendo Power magazines. (Fun Fact: Nester’s use of “Well Excuse Me.” in that linked comic panel about Legend of Zelda when he loudly drops a library book about Link actually predates by about a half a year the release of the infamous Legend of Zelda cartoon that would give Link his “Well Excuse Me, Princess!” catchphrase that went a long way to justifying his portrayal as a silent hero.) There’s also a nice shout out to the Kill Bill movies.

The Real Legend 3 was put out by Granfaloon on 28 Jan 2009. This chapter focuses on the Fire Temple, with a brief flashback to Jabu Jabu’s belly. Fart jokes abound. At this point, Ocarina of Time was just over a decade old, with several newer games released in the interim: Majora’s Mask, Wind Waker, Four Swords Adventures and Twilight Princess. Still, OoT was iconic enough that just the year before, IGN had released a fake Legend of Zelda live-action movie trailer as an April Fools joke, and while they didn’t specify which game in the franchise it was based on, it borrowed heavily from Ocarina’s themes and elements.

The Real Legend 4 came out on 17 June 2011. After obtaining the Iron Boots in the Ice Caverns and more cryptic advice and another song from Sheik (whose chestbinding finally gives out after four chapters, most likely from the combination of the strain and the cold), Link sets off for the Water Temple. Also there’s a brief parody of House M.D.. Lots of meme faces in this one.

The Real Legend 5 marked Padilla’s return to the series after eight years on 9 May 2019. (As with many long running Flash series, this most modern installment was not actually animated in Flash, but in two other Adobe products, Photoshop and After Effects.) This chapter features Title Cards in Old Hylian, another visit from Sheik (who still hasn’t had a chance to replace their chest binder), a cameo by Guru-Guru, and Link being sent on a mission to the Shadow Temple. For the first time in the series, Navi’s fanservice-y closeups have her wearing clothing (possibly a due to Granfaloon also simultaneously uploading this release to his own YouTube channel the same day it hit Newgrounds). Link makes his way through the temple, and has to face down Bongo Cat Phantom Shadow Beast: Bongo Bongo. Afterwards, Navi remarks on how close they are to completing the quest and purging evil from the land forever, while the screen flashes to images of Wind Waker, Twilight Princess, and Breath of the Wild, a nice homage to the fact that this series is celebrating a now two decades old game that is but one part of a rich and ongoing franchise. The animation ends with Link getting the Biggoron’s Sword reforged. But it’s doubtful this will be the end of the series, as earlier there had been a cameo of the Gerudo witches Koume and Kotake, who are the bosses of the Spirit Temple.

Bonus Track: Two years before Jerry Padilla ever began The Real Legend series, Flash animator Josh Spaulding put together a game sprite animation Flash, using A Link to the Past sprites (again, objectively the best Zelda), set to the song The Legend of Zelda (Link He Come to Town) and uploaded it on 14 February 2001. The song was written and sung by Joe Pleiman, then a member of a band called Rabbit Joint, who had released the song on the band’s self titled album. Back in the Wild West days of filesharing, some chucklehead got the bright idea that Pleiman sounded like Serj Tankian from System of a Down, and uploaded an MP3 of Joe’s Zelda song to Napster under the file name “SOAD - Zelda”, leading many to believe that System of a Down had actually been responsible for the song. That’s it for Hyrule. Next Stop, our usual Mid-Month visit to Nevada.

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fandumbstuff · 5 years

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Favourite Films from 2018

1. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

Directed by Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey, and Rodney Rothman

If this movie had absolutely no story, it would still be worth the price of admission. It's an astounding achievement in animation that brings to life a moving piece of pop art. It does have a story, however, and a particularly affective one. Into the Spider-Verse is a deep dive into the mythology of Spider-Man, taking over 60 years of storytelling and condensing it into a few concentrated attributes. It then introduces us to the variety of characters who share these attributes, and convinces us to care about them. It rises above most superhero films and tells a story that seems simultaneously sensational and incredibly personal. It does not overwhelm us with spectacle, but rather takes the time to offer quiet moments of emotional resonance. And then wows us with the spectacle.

2. If Beale Street Could Talk

Directed by Barry Jenkins

Films should be able to make you feel something. And it is every directors goal to convey an emotion through their visual conception. Barry Jenkins does this better than most of his contemporaries. Much like Moonlight, Beale Street is a film that warms your soul with overwhelming intimacy and sentiment. The beauty in James Laxton’s cinematography- soft lighting in close-ups and graceful camera waltzes through long shots convey a sense of dreamlike wonder. There are darker moments in the film as well, and Jenkins allows us to feel ever moment of injustice, desperation and despair in them. If Beale Street Could Talk is not just a love story, but a story of the most resilient kind of love.

3. Sorry to Bother You

Directed by Boots Riley

In terms of sheer originality this is the best film of the year. In his directorial debut, Boots Riley tells us a science fiction story that is funny, dark and deeply thought-provoking, in a way that most of Black Mirror dreams it was. Lakeith Stanfield leads with a stellar performance, presenting a frazzled sort of energy that is enough to make you laugh and/or feel pretty unsettled. He’s accompanied by Tessa Thompson’s effortless charm, and Armie Hammer’s effortless dickishness. Add to that some particularly clever voice-over performances and its already a standout film. But it’s the attention to detail from the production design, the make-up, hair, costuming, and music, that make this an incredibly well rounded, wholly enjoyable affair.

4. Black Panther

Directed by Ryan Coogler

This is the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s watershed moment. The care and attention that was paid in simply assembling the best team possible to work on this film pays off incredibly. Ryan Coogler and his dream team created a singular creative vision to inspire and entertain fans new and old. Wakanda feels like a living, breathing world, far more impressive than most of its comic book portrayals. Shot and lit by Rachel Morrison, costumed by Ruth E. Carter’s impeccable hand, and pulsing to Ludwig Goransson’s iconic score. And then there are the performances. Fierce moments between Danai Gurira and Lupita Nyongo, poignant exchanges between Chadwick Boseman and John Kani. And impassioned moments between Michael B. Jordan and pretty much everyone. Killmonger is the MCU’s best villain yet, but you already know that. Jordan’s performance is one that simply needs to be appreciated over and over again, his passionate command of Coogler’s screenplay stirs your heart, and may damn well bring some tears to your eyes, as it never fails to do so for me.

5. Roma

Directed by Alfonso Cuaron

Alfonso Cuaron wrote, directed, shot, and cut this film himself, and you can certainly believe his passion for this project shines through in all of those aspects. Roma seems like an incredibly personal film, and it’s the mark of any great filmmaker to make your audience empathetic to a personal project. Cuaron’s story is one deeply rooted in Mexican history and culture, but the themes of infidelity, chauvinism and female independence are ones that we can and should engage with. Cuaron’s cinematography is incredibly beautiful in this film. Under his own hand rather than his best pal Emmanuel Lubezki, Cuaron’s signature long takes are moments of deep emotion, allowing us as an audience to simply sit back and soak in the gravity of a scene- its beauty, sadness, and joy.

6. BlacKkKlansmen

A Spike Lee Joint

The film is upsetting, as it absolutely should be. That being said, this is the first time in a while I’ve seen Spike Lee have fun with a project. Ron Stallworth’s story is an incredible one, but it’s not without its moments of absurd levity. John David Washington and Adam Driver have incredible chemistry together, and they play off of each other as humorously as most buddy copy films. BlacKkKlansmen is a true story though, and ultimately an incredibly important one. How does one man fight racism in its most violent form, and do so with impeccable courage. Stallworth is one of history’s true heroes, but Spike Lee makes sure that we understand why this story is still relevant today, and why it is our responsibility to fight injustice with the same courage that Stallworth did.

7. Eighth Grade

Directed by Bo Burnham

Its understandable that the most accurate depiction of social media on screen yet comes from someone with a prolific background in social media like Bo Burnham. This is just one detail out of many that he gets so right in his film. He chooses to tell the story of a lead character that would traditionally get no attention in the field of coming-of-age movies. Watching Kayla win an award for “most quiet student” sums up how real and relatable her character is. Elsie Fisher’s performance sells this, and winds up being one of the strongest of the year. With Eighth Grade, Burnham has shown how incredibly in touch he is, and it’s a quality sorely lacking in most standard Hollywood fare.

8. Isle of Dogs

Directed by Wes Anderson

Obviously charming, as with any Wes Anderson film. Obviously cute, as with anything involving dogs. Throughout his filmography, Anderson has always managed to find the charm in adolescence, whether having children as lead or supporting characters, or telling a story that is young at heart. In Isle of Dogs, his story touches on that same charm. A child’s love for his dog is the main plot point, and his journey is one that touches on our intrinsic reminiscence of childhood adventure. All of this is accompanied by Alexandre Desplat's delightfully memorable score, which is worth listening to all on its own.

9. The Favourite

Directed by Yorgos Lanthimos

In comparison to Yorgos Lanthimos' other popular film The Lobster, it’s clear he's established a distinct voice in absurd humour. The Favourite is just as absurd, but far more darker. There are moments that are outright hilarious, but they are accompanied by moments of tragic sadness. Watching Olivia Colman's Queen Anne transition from cheerful to melancholic is heartbreaking. Supported by strong performances from Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone, and accompanied by assuredly strong production design and cinematography, The Favourite rounds out as one of the years finest films.

10. The Death of Stalin

Directed by Armando Ianucci

Armando Ianucci has never told a darker story than this one. As with most of his work, The Death of Stalin is uproariously funny. His knack for showing the silliest sides of politicians is at its best here, and the political climate that he deals with is the perfect vehicle for it. We watch these characters scramble for power, and watch them commit horrible atrocities in the process. A lot of it is funny in the darkest of fashions. But by the time we get to the end, we understand just how disturbing the story has been and are left to contemplate how humanity can slip so far into horror, and hope we can learn from it.

Honorable Mentions

Shoplifters (Directed by Haruomi Hasuno), Paddington 2 (Directed by Paul King), Christopher Robin (Directed by Marc Foster), Halloween (Directed by David Gordon Green), Incredibles 2 (Directed by Brad Bird), Crazy Rich Asians (Directed by John M. Chu), Avengers: Infinity War (Directed by Anthony and Joe Russo), First Man (Directed by Damien Chazelle), A Quiet Place (Directed by John Krasinski) Tag (Directed by Jeff Tomsic)

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dukereviewsmovies · 5 years

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Duke Reviews: The Fast And The Furious

Hi Everyone, I'm Andrew Leduc And Welcome To Duke Reviews, Where I Realize That It's Been A While, I Know I Haven't Done Anything With This Page In A While (Mainly Because Of My Other Tumblr Pages And For Those I Suggest You Check Out Power Rangers/Sentai Reviews (prreviews) Duke Reviews TV (dukereviewstv) Oncer Reviews (oncerreviews) And Arrowverse Reviews (arrowversereviews)) But I Hope To Do More Because As Of Today I Am Back With New Reviews On The Fast And Furious Movies...

I Say The Fast And Furious Movies As I'm Going To Be Going Over All Of Them And Not Just Do 4 Movies And Make A Month Out Of It, That Made Me Feel Compressed For Time And I Really Don't Want To Feel Like That When Doing This, I'm Gonna Do This The Way I Want To. So, The Fast And The Furious...

Starring Vin Diesel And The Late Paul Walker This Film...Well, I Would Talk About The Plot But That Would Spoil Some Twists That Happens In The Movie So, No Plot For This Episode...

But Instead Let's Get Right To The Fast And The Furious...

The Film Starts As Some People With Helmets And Fast Cars Hijack A Truck Full Of Electronic Goods...

The Next Morning, We Meet Brian Spillner (Played By The Late Paul Walker) Who Stops By Toretto's Market And Cafe Where Mia (Played By Dallas' Jordana Brewster) Works With Her Brother, Dom (Played By Vin Diesel) But When Dom's Crew (Which Includes Dom's Longtime Girlfriend, Letty (Played By Lost's Michelle Rodriguez) Vince (Played By Matt Shultze) Who Is Sort Of The Muscle, Jesse (Played By Chad Lindberg) Who's The Brains And Leon (Played By Johnny Strong) Who's Just There, He's Not The Brains Or The Muscle, He's Just There) Arrives On The Scene, Vince Gets Into A Fight With Brian (When He Doesn't Like Brian Flirting With Mia) Which Forces Dom To Get Involved...

What Kind Of Fight Song Is That?

That's Got To Be The Worst Song I've Ever Heard In A Fight Scene...

Telling Brian To Never Come Back Here, Brian Says That That's Bull But Knowing That Brian Works An Autoshop With A Friend Of His Named Harry, Dom Tells Brian That He's Fired. Going Down To Harry's, He's Mad At Brian, Saying That He's Messing Around With His Buisness...

He's Good, Man! Really Good...

Telling Harry, He Needs Nos...

Nos? What's Nos?

Researching This I Discovered That Nos Is Another Word For Nitrous Oxide Otherwise Known As Laughing Gas...

However, It Is Used In This And Other Motor Sports As A Rocket Propellant...

However, Harry Knows That Brian Is A Amateur And Isn't Ready For Nos Just Yet But Needing It Now Brian Tells Harry To Place 2 Containers In His Vehicle. That Night, Brian Goes To A Street Race That He Knows That Dom And His Crew Will Be At There He Meets Edwin (Played By Rapper Ja Rule) And Hector (Played By That One Guy Who's Known For Playing Mexican Gangsters In Movies) I'm Serious That's All He's Known For, But I Guess It's Better Than Saying The Guy That Got A Monkey Out Of His Ass In Bruce Almighty...

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(Start Video At 1:06)

When Dom Arrives, Everyone Places Their Cash In Except For Brian Who Places The Pink Slip To His Car, Stating That If He Wins He Takes The Cash And The Respect...

Looking At His Car, Dom Accepts His Terms As They All Drive To Where The Race Is At.

With All The Racers At The Starting Line, The Race Begins!..

Activating The First Nos Canister, Brian Passes Edwin And Another Racer But When He Activates The Second Canister, He Loses The Bottom Of The Back Of His Car As He Passes Dom, But Dom Gets The Better Of Brian By Activating His Nos Canister...

But As Brian Finally Makes It To The Finish Line, The Police Start Showing Up Which Causes Everyone To Get The Hell Outta There, Ditching His Car, Dom Is Nearly Arrested By Police, However He Is Saved By Brian Who Says He Only Saved Him In An Effort To Keep His Car...

Losing The Police, Dom Tells Brian He Had Jesse Do Research On Him Discovering That Brian Did 2 Years In Juvie For Boosting Cars...

But They're Soon Followed By A Rival Gang On Motorbikes With Machine Guns That Is Led ByJohnny Tran (Played By Rick Yune) And His Cousin, Lance (Played By Grimm's Reggie Lee)

Saying That They Just Got Lost, Tran Lets Dom Go However...

They Place Bullets In Brian's Car, Setting The Nos On Fire And Causing The Car To Blow Up...

With A Long Walk Home, Dom Explains His History With Tran To Brian, As It Turns Out That It Was A Buisness Deal That Went Sour, Plus He Slept With Tran's Sister

Arriving At Dom's House, Dom Tells Brian To Come In For A Drink Before He Gets Mad At His Crew For Not Going Out And Finding Him...

With Dom Going Upstairs With Letty To Give Her A Massage Which Is Code For...

Saving Brian From Another Fight With Vince, Mia Talks With Brian In The Kitchen...

The Next Day, Brian Is Arrested By Police And Is Taken Back To A Safehouse Where It's Revealed That Everything We Know About Brian Is A Lie!

Turns Out His Real Name Is Brian O'Connor And He Is An LAPD Officer Who Is Involved In A Joint Mission Between The LAPD And The FBI To Find Out Who The Gang That Has Been Stealing Electronic Goods Is And To Arrest Them

The Officer That Arrested Him Is Sergeant Tanner (Played By Ted Levine Who Played The...

Guy In Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom) And Is The LAPD Officer In Charge Of The Mission And The Black Guy Is The FBI Agent Bilkins (Played By Thom Barry) Who I Suggest You Get Used To Seeing As He's In The Next Movie As Well...

They Go Over A Bit Of Exposition Stating That People That Are Good With Precision Driving With Three Honda Civics With Green Neon Glow Beneath The Chassis And Have Mashimoto Z-X Tires Have Done 4 Truck Hijackings In 2 Months And If They Don't Have Something Soon They'll Have A Revolt Of Truckers On Their Hands...

But Despite Knowing That The Street Racing World Revolves Around Dom, Brian Doesn't Think That He's The One Behind These Attacks But He May Know Who Does All He Needs Is Time...

But Bilkins Says That Brian Doesn't Have Time...

Before Brian Leaves, Tanner Warns Brian To Be Careful Around Dom As He Nearly Beat A Guy To Death...

Getting Another Car From Tanner..,

And A Shitty One At That...

He Gives It To Dom Saying It's His Car...

Telling Jesse To Pop The Hood, Shows Dom To Not Judge A Book By It's Cover...

Dom Tells Brian That When He's Not Working At Harry's, He's Working At His Garage...

We Get A Brief Montage Of Dom And The Crew Buying Stuff From Harry's For The Car, While Jesse Shows Brian What The Car Will Look Like When The Car Is Finished...

Going To A Barbecue At Dom's House, Vince Takes Off The Minute He Sees Brian But Let's Not Put A Damper On This Scene As Everyone Sits Down To Eat We See One Of Dom's Traditions Which Is Whenever Somebody Grabs Food First That Somebody Has To Say Grace...

Just They Eat, Vince Arrives Mainly Because He's Hungry And Not Because He's Dropped His Beef With Brian...

Helping Mia With The Kitchen, Brian Asks Mia Out But Despite Her Saying She Doesn't Go Out With Her Brother's Friends She Does This When Vince Bosses Around Brian Again...

The Next Day, Hector Visits Harry's Shop For Equipment For 3 Honda Civics...

This Is Starting To Get Suspicious...

That Night, Brian Sneaks To Hector's Hangout Over Near The El Gato But Unfortunately The Cars Don't Match The Description. Getting Out, He Is Caught By Vince Who Takes Him To Dom Who Demands An Explanation Which Is Where Brian Tells Him That He Was Only In Hector's Garage To Analyze The Competition For The Upcoming Race Wars...

Despite Vince Believing He's A Cop, Dom Takes Both Brian And Vince To Johnny Tran's Where Dom And Vince Look At Tran's Car To See That It Has No Engine But Brian Is More Interested In All The Electronics That Tran Has...

But They Get A Call From Jesse Who Says That Tran And His Gang Are On Their Way Back A Fence Named Ted Who Was Supposed To Get Them An Engine For Their Car But He Didn't So They Decide To Torture Him...

Telling Tanner And Billkins What He Saw, Billkins Wants To Move On Tran Believing That They Have Enough But Brian Wants Hard Evidence Before They Do...

He Also Mentions That Hector's A Dead End And Dom Is Too Controlled For This, Vince Maybe But Not Dom, This Leads Tanner To Show Brian A Picture Of The Guy Dom Beat Up Years Ago...

That Afternoon, Brian Works At The Garage With Dom As He Tells Him That Tonight Is His Date With Mia...

Wow, Not One For Subtlety, Are You Dom?

Taking Brian To His Garage At His House, Dom Shows Brian A 1970 Dodge Charger That He Worked On With His Father When He Was A Kid, It's Here We Learn That Dominic's Father (Who Was A Pro Stock Racer) Was Killed By A Fellow Racer Named Kenny Linder Who Knocked Into A Wall (Which Set His Car On Fire) And That The Man That Dom Attacked Was Linder Which Leads To The Best Line Of The Entire Movie...

Taking Mia Out, She Tells Brian The Story How How Dom And The Gang Met, Saying That Vince Knew Dom Since They Were Kids And Letty Was Basically The Girl Next Door Who Was Interested In Car But Could Never Get Dom's Attention But Then She Turned 16...

So, Their Relationship Is Basically Like Phineas And Isabella's...

And Jesse And Leon Just Showed Up One Night And Never Ever Left. Mia Then Compares Her Brother To Gravity Stating That Everyone Who Comes Around Him Gets Pulled In, But Brian Tells Mia That The Only Thing That Pulled Him In Was Her...

Meanwhile, Another Heist Goes Down Which Makes Bilkins Decide To Move On Tran In 1700 Hours, And They Let Brian Know About This As He's Screwing Mia...

Bad Timing, Guys...

The Arrest Of Tran And His Boys Looks Similar To The Baptism Scene In The Godfather To The Point That All That's Missing Is The Murders And It Could Use A Guy With A Horse Head On His Bed...

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And If You Thought Brian Having Sex With Mia Was Hot During The Raid We Get Scenes Of Dom Having Sex With Letty, She Was Hot In Girlfight So Why Not?

However, Tran And His Boys Are Innocent, Turns Out The Electronics Are Legal And All They Got On Them Is Low Rent Weapons Charges And Outstanding Speeding Tickets, Bilkins Tells Brian To Bring Toretto In In 36 Hours Or He Can Get A New Job.

Knowing That Brian Can't Look Past Dom Because Of Mia, Brian Tells Tanner That Knows Dom Won't Go Back To Jail Easy...

With The Car Ready And Raring To Go, Dom And Brian To A Test Run Down To The Coast Where They Stop By This Restaurant Called Neptune's Her Where Brian Tells Dom That He Knows He's Doing Something On The Side To Pay For Everything And He Wants In, Dom Tells Brian To Win Race Wars Then They'll Talk...

And What Can I Say About Race Wars? It's A Mix Of Woodstock And Coachella Except No Music Just Racing...

With Letty Racing First, She Beats The Hell Out Of This Ass That Tried To Hit On Her...

You Just Got Owned, Pal...

Meeting With Brian, Jesse Tells Him That He's Up Next In A Pink Slip Race, That Is The Good News, The Bad News Is That He's Driving His Jailbird Dad's Jetta And That His Competitor Is Johnny Tran....

Can't Wait To See How This Goes Down...

Yep, Jesse Loses But He's Like No Way In Hell I'm Giving Up My Dad's Car And Drives Off Til He's Out Of Fuel...

I Have A Feeling We Won't Be Seeing Him For A While...

Telling Dom To Get Jesse's Car For Him, Dom Tells Tran To Watch Who He's Talking To Which Is When Tran Tells Him That S.W.A.T Raided His House...

Shermar Moore Was At Your House, Boy, I Wish I Was There...

Thinking That Dom Was Behind It, Dom Gets Into A Fight With Tran...

That Night, Brian Watches Dom And The Others Take Off To Go On Another Heist Which Leads Brian To Confront Mia On It Forcing Him To Tell Her That He's A Cop..

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(Start At 3:41 And End At 3:44)

Despite Telling Her That Everything He Felt For Mia Was Real, Brian Tells Her That The Truckers Aren't Laying Down Anymore And That If She Cares About Dom And The Crew She'll Help Him...

Mia Tells Brian Where The Cats Are Stashed But Brian Knows That The Highway Where They Are Is Too Well Patrolled So, He Decides To Do A Cell Phone Trace...

Driving Up To The Cars, Dom's Ready To Go But The Others Don't Feel Right Doing This Without Jesse But Dom Doesn't Want To Give Up On This One Saying That It's The Motherlode That They've Been Waiting For. So, Getting In The Cars They Ride Off...

But As They Go To Pull Their Heist, The Driver Tries To Shoot Vince With A Shotgun Vince Tries To Untether But He's Just Stuck...

Eventually Though Vince Gets Tossed To The Side Where His Arm Gets Stuck, Dom And Letty Try To Save Him But Dom Loses A Tire And Letty Gets Sideswiped Off The Road With Dom Telling Leon To Go Check On Her...

Dom's Engine Gets Hit Causing Him To Pull Off The Road But Luckily Brian Arrives With Mia To Save Vince...

With Dom Arriving, Letty And Leon Drive Out Of This Movie And With Only Letty And Vince Returning For Sequels We Say Goodbye To Leon. We Hardly Knew Ye...

With Vince Bleeding Out, Brian Calls The Police To Bring An Ambulance While Also Blowing His Cover. Returning To Dom's House, Brian Confronts Dom Saying There's Nowhere To Run But Dom Tells Him That He's Not Running Because He Has To Find Jesse Before Tran Does But Luckily Jesse Finds Them...

With Tran And Lance Closing In, Dom, Brian And Mia Take Cover While Tran Kills Jesse...

With Both Dom And Brian Going After Tran, Tran And Brian Both Shoot At Each Other As Lance Goes Behind Brian To Shoot Him But Dom Stops Lance From Doing So By Causing Him To Jump Into A Field...

It All Eventually Ends When Tran Is Shot By Brian Killing Him Instantly. With Tran Dead, Brian Sets His Sights On Dom Who He Follows To A Railroad Track Where Dom Tells Him That He Used To Drag Race Here In High School And That On Green He's Going So, The 2 Decide To Race Each Other One Last Time Or Until Fast And Furious But That's A Different Story...

Jumping At The Track As The Train Is About To Cross, Dom's Charger Gets Hit By An Oncoming Truck Causing To Flip Out Of Control...

Surviving, Brian Lets Dom Take His Car Saying That He Owes Him A 10 Second Car And So Dom Rides Off To Fight Another Day...

And That's The Fast And The Furious And It's A Good Film....

The Cast And Story Are Great, The Stunts Are Fantastic, The Car Designs Are Amazing I Just Love This Series. A lot Of People Around My Mom's Age Say That These Films Are Just Violence , Sex Basically Stuff You Would Find In A Grand Theft Auto Game And While It Does Have Some Violence And A Few Sexy Scenes It's Not Just That Throughout The Entire Movie It's Much More Than That, So, I Say See It And Give It A Chance...

Till Next Time, This Is Duke, Signing Off...

#the fast and the furious #vin diseal #paul walker #jordana brewster #michelle rodriguez #fast and furious

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isaackuo · 5 years

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Britta's Tacos

Okay, I've been meaning to ask this for a while - what is the deal with Star vs the Forces of Evil and cultural appropriation issues?

I mean, it's a bit weird that Marco Diaz loves nachos and eats at Del Taco Bell. That's like ... Americanized Tex-Mex food, rather than Mexican style Mexican food. But I feel like it's not just coming from a place of ignorance, because SvtFoE obviously has running themes about colonizing and cultural appropriation and racist historical erasure/propaganda... Like even the whole corn thing. Corn is something which is loaded with historical significance here.

Heck, SvtFoE even directly plays with the idea of boring white people yearning for some "real" culture to be proud of with "Gustav" and his depressingly boring home town of boringville. I feel like SvtFoE is trying to say things about these issues rather than just being dumb and ignorant about Marco's culture.

For me it's a bit complicated because I myself am a son of immigrants and yet ... we're Americanized like Marco Diaz. One of my dad's favorite dishes is mu shu pork. I love egg rolls and have a particular idea of what "authentic" egg rolls are like based on how my mom makes them.

But egg rolls and mu shu pork are as American as nachos or California rolls.

And both of my parents are immigrants! I don't really know what the deal is with Raphael and Angie, but Angie at least seems Americanized herself.

SvtFoE doesn't pretend Britta's Tacos are "authentic" Mexican food. It's presented as just some crummy fast food joint.

Anyway, I'd really like to know what the deal is, exactly, because I'm giving SvtFoE the benefit of the doubt and I think the truth would be interesting to know.

From what I can tell, though, Echo Creek feels to me ... I dunno ... "California"-ish to me. Like, it feels like a cultural melting pot where most of the kids are heavily Americanized.

And Marco Diaz and his love of nachos and Del Taco Bell? I kind of relate to that myself; I wonder what 2nd/3rd gen Mexican latinos think about it.

#star vs the forces of evil #svtfoe #thoughts #whatever

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pengychan · 6 years

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[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt. 3

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[Tag with all chapters up here.]

[Also on Ao3]

A/N: “I mean being a Catholic priest only takes years of study and training how hard can it be” -- Ernesto, probably.

***

“We have to keep going.”

“Santiago, we don’t even know which way he went…”

“Then we split up and keep looking!”

“To regroup where? And what if we meet enemies? We’d be easy prey-- Chago, wait! We lost him. We can’t keep looking blindly for--”

“Then go back to the barracks. De la Cruz is out there somewhere. I’ll find that traitor myself, and hang him with my own hands for what he did to Beto,” Santiago snapped, and turned his horse to face Nando, a scowl on his face. It caused the other man to rear back on the saddle, but Santiago didn’t see him, not really.

All that he had before his eyes - all that he’d been seeing, even behind his own eyelids when he shut them - was Alberto’s body on the ground, the blood and brain matter splattered on the rocky ground, carrion birds already beginning their descent… and the tracks of two horses leaving.

They had found Beto’s horse not too far away, wandering lost, but Ernesto de la Cruz was nowhere to be found. He’d fled like the coward he was, after shooting a man from behind.

He didn’t have to do it. He was giving him his back, he could have stunned him if he so wanted to escape.

“Chago, listen,” Nando spoke again, reaching to put a hand on his arm. “There is nothing more we can do now, and you need to be reasonable,” he said, and sighed. “I know he was your friend. I am sorry it was you to find him.”

Santiago almost snapped back, but he suddenly found he had no strength to. He had to swallow before he spoke. “His mother is waiting for him at home,” he said, very quietly. “How can I go back and tell her Beto is dead if I don’t at least avenge him? I promised Raquel I’d look after him, and now…”

“It is war, Chago. She knew death was a real possibility.”

Of course they all had known that, but it had seemed such a distant concept when they’d signed up - Alberto with the eagerness of a man who wants to prove something, and Santiago with a sense of duty that compelled him to follow his friend as he always had. And even afterwards… death in battle, or even in a skirmish, was one thing. Being shot in the back by a deserter was worse. It was unfair. It was personal.

“I should have been the one on patrol with him,” Santiago murmured. He would have been, normally, but the day Alberto had died he’d been assigned to some other menial task, and Ernesto de la Cruz had been chosen to go with him instead. Beto - who had waved at him before going off, telling him he’d see him later - had liked the man, but Santiago had never quite warmed up to him; he recognized a coward at heart when he saw one. He hadn’t trusted him but even so, he’d never thought he’d kill Beto in cold blood and flee.

“It wasn’t your fault that you weren’t,” Nando was saying, a hand still on his arm. Santiago nodded, but in truth he’d hardly heard him.

I joined the army because he had, but now he’s gone and I can’t do this on my own.

But he would have to, of course. He’d have to brush it off the best he could and keep marching on. He didn’t have to like it; he just needed to make himself keep going through the motions until the right moment came, until he could finally get his hands on Beto’s murderer - because he would, come what may. He couldn’t allow himself to doubt that for one moment.

De la Cruz couldn’t get away with it. He wouldn’t. Maybe not today or tomorrow or the day after that, but someday Santiago would face him again.

And that day, Ernesto de la Cruz wouldn’t get the luxury of a quick death.

***

When it was time to thank God for his food and whatnot, Ernesto barely needed to pretend; he hadn’t had a proper breakfast in so long he was ready to personally thank everyone, from God down to the hens who had laid the eggs, and the nun - Sister Sofía, was it? - who had put the dish in front of him.

If anything, the hard part was focusing on the prayer with that delicious smell distracting him, and trying to make himself pause and chew instead of guzzling it all down in seconds. After the first few bites, he found that easier.

“Where are Gustavo and Brother Héctor?” Ernesto asked after swallowing another mouthful. It occurred to him that the novice would likely live there as well - he hadn’t bothered looking around much after being led to his room the previous day, and he’d have expected the sexton to have showed up by now.

Sister Sofía shrugged, and dropped another couple of eggs on his plate. She was a good deal shorter than him, thin as a twig and nothing much in the way of looks, but as he wolfed down the extra eggs Ernesto thought he could kiss her on the mouth right there and then if it weren’t so likely to land him in trouble.

“Gustavo showed up earlier, but he was absolutely useless here, so I sent him off to feed your horse. Brother Héctor is helping Chicharrón at the cemetery. His joints aren’t what they used to be, and he needed some assistance straightening up a tombstone. Not that he’ll admit it. He’s probably grumbling that Héctor didn’t need to show up at all right now, while watching him do the heavy work.”

Ernesto raised an eyebrow, trying and failing to picture the beanpole he’d met at the church’s steps lifting anything heavier than a basket of laundry, but he didn’t ask. “Chicharrón?” he asked instead.

“The old grave digger, Padre. You’ll meet him today, I wager.”

“I’m guessing that’s not his real name,” Ernesto said. For a moment he kicked himself for not giving a fake name, or asking the dying priest for his own so that he could use it. But then again, he suspected that might have led him to fail to respond when called, which would have probably been rather suspicious.

Unaware of his thoughts, and pouring some more water in his glass, Sister Sofía shook her head. “No, but good luck getting the real one out of him. No one knows.”

“Must be embarrassing, if he’d rather be called after fried pork,” Ernesto muttered. Sister Sofía laughed and so did he - only to realize his mistake when she spoke again.

“It’s good to see your headache is gone, Padre.”

For the second time in a minute, Ernesto felt like kicking himself really hard. He’d come out of his room mumbling that his head hurt, so that he could get out of saying the afternoon mass, but breakfast had been so good he’d simply forgotten to keep the act up.

No matter. I can claim it spiked up again. I just need to be careful now.

“It is slightly better,” he said, and put the fork down on the plate. “It was all delicious, Sister.”

Sister Sofía smiled. “Oh, I’m glad,” she said, and went to take his dish off the table, standing close to him. Very close. Close enough that her arm brushed against his own, startling him a little and causing him to look up. Still, nothing showed on her face. “Anything else, Padre?”

Nothing a nun can give, but thanks for the reminder I’ve gone too long without a woman.

“No, nothing,” Ernesto said, a bit too quickly, and stood. “Is… is there a schedule, or…?”

“This is about the time people come in for confession.”

“Oh, great. I mean-- I’ll be in the confessional in a few minutes,” Ernesto said quickly, and left, heading to his room - he needed the Bible, plus pen and paper - before she could ask anything else, acutely aware of her gaze fixed on his retreating back.

***

They will come collect everything tonight. Keep the back door open. Ensure no one is there.

The note had no name on it, as always. It was safer that way; if she and whoever was keeping direct contact with the revolutionaries kept ignoring other's identity, they could be sure that information could never be forced out of them under any circumstances.

The notes, always written in the same handwriting, came inside the collection box, and Imelda always made sure she'd be the one to collect the offerings for the orphanage - or, if not, that Sofía would do it. She, at least, could be trusted to be discreet.

... Well, no. Not really. But on such serious matters, she knew when to keep her mouth shut.

After giving a quick look around - the church was empty aside from a few people waiting by the confessional and, she assumed, Padre Ernesto inside said confessional - Imelda held the note over a candle, and let it burn. The small piece of paper quickly turned to ashes, the smell easily covered by incense burning, and she went to look for Sofía.

She found her in the sacristy, getting the purple robe out of the closet and ready for the afternoon mass.

"He's bigger than Padre Edmundo was," Sofía muttered when she saw her walking in, eyeing the robe. “Broader shoulders, deeper chest. It's going to be a tight fit."

"I can just hear the sorrow in your voice," Imelda said, holding back a smile, then lowered her own voice. "They'll come to take the weapons and ammunitions tonight."

"Your friend wrote you, huh? Ever wonder who it is?"

"It's not relevant. Have you found out anything about Padre Ernesto?"

Sofía shrugged. "He's got a cleft chin. Still like him best without the beard."

Imelda forced herself to hold back an exasperated sigh. "Anything else?"

"I'm almost positive he puts something in his hair to keep it that glossy. It can’t be natural."

"Are you making a point to annoy me?"

"I want to see how far I can push it before I make you curse in a church."

If not for the fact she had the basket with the offerings in her hands, Imelda would have smacked her. Maybe she should consider using the basket. "Anything of any relevance?"

"He's got a healthy appetite. And he seems rather out of his depth," she added quickly when she noticed Imelda's eye twitching just a little. "He almost began eating without a prayer. He's like a fish out of water. But that's likely because he just arrived."

Yes, Imelda had to admit that was a likely explanation. Still, with all that was going on, having a perfect stranger at the helm of the parish unnerved her. She'd feel safer once she knew something more about him. If only Héctor had taken his vows already... no. She wouldn't allow herself to think of that. "Nothing that gave any indication of where he stands?" she asked instead.

Sofía rolled her eyes. "That's hardly something you tell a stranger over breakfast. Give me time, Imelda. I'll crack this one and give you answers."

"It might be worth having a look at his room."

"I told you, I need time to--"

"Without him in it, Sofía," Imelda said drily, getting herself a laugh and a hand on her shoulder.

"You worry too much. He's just a priest, from way out of town and probably fresh out of the seminar. At worst, we need to be careful around him as we are around most others."

Imelda hated to admit that maybe she was worrying too much, but... well, maybe she was worrying too much. She sighed, and nodded. "All right. But if you find out anything--"

"You'll be the first one to know," Sofía reassured her. "And if there is any reason to, we'll search his room. I think I know where I can find a spare key."

"Gustavo?"

"Gustavo the Disappointment. Though to be fair I was expecting little, so being let down wasn't a long drop."

Imelda's lips quirked upwards. "I believe I heard you saying never again, though."

That gained her a solemn nod. "I did. But if it's to get that key, so be it,” Sofía said, and gave a long sigh. “I did commit myself to a life of sacrifice, after all."

***

Ernesto hadn’t bothered to confess himself in a very, very long time.

Even when he had to, it had simply been… something he had to do. It wasn’t always easy, because apparently he was supposed to confess to wrongdoings - and he couldn’t think of any, he had good reasons for everything he did - or actions that he regretted, which was… rare.

For his first confession as a kid, prior to his first Communion, he’d flipped through the pages of a Bible and taken note of sins that sounded especially impressive: just because it was something he had to do, it didn’t mean he had to half-ass it. He wanted it to be memorable.

He hadn’t understood most of the words he’d read, and the priest inside the confessional had been quite confused to hear a nine-year-old confessing to fornication; much later on, Ernesto would muse he had simply been confessing his main sin ahead of time. Back then, he’d fixed everything by adding ‘and I just told lies’ at the end of the confession. He’d had to say hell knew how many Ave Maria for that, but at least he hadn’t made the confession boring to listen to. Like, say, the ones he was listening right now, sprawled on the amazingly uncomfortable wooden seat inside the confessional.

Miguel had been right: absolutely nothing of interest seemed to happen in that place.

“... And what’s worse, I have…” the whisper became fearful, getting up Ernesto’s hopes to hear something interesting. “I have lain with my husband, last night...”

Thunk.

“Padre? What was that?”

With his forehead resting against the wooden panel he’d let it drop against, Ernesto held back a sigh and a muttered ‘congratulations’. That was worse that the idiot who had confessed to stealing an apple, or another who envied the neighbor for his plump chickens. “Nothing, child. So, you slept. With your husband. Great. And...?”

“And… we did not… we didn’t do so in order to conceive. We know it is wrong, but we cannot afford another child!”

“That’s fair enough. How many children do you have?”

“Seven.”

“... It does sound like a good place to stop, yes.”

“I need your absolution, Padre.”

“What for? It’s your husband.”

“But we committed onanism!”

“That’s… what usually happens when it’s done right?”

“What?”

Oh, Ernesto thought, straightening himself. Wait. He quickly glanced down at the the piece of paper he’d scribbled his notes on, squinting. “Ah. Right. Onanism. That is concerning.”

The voice on the other side of the wooden panel turned anxious. “Can I have absolution?”

“Of course,” Ernesto muttered, turning the piece of paper on the other side. “Ego te absol--”

“No… no penance?”

Yes, start reciting the goddamn Holy Father and keep going until you die.

“... Say ten Hail Mary. Ego te absolvo a pa… pe… peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Next,” Ernesto sighed, rubbing his forehead as he heard the woman rising from her kneeling position outside the confessional. His head was really starting to hurt, so maybe he wouldn’t even need to lie about it later that day.Not that he planned to confess a thing either way.

After that confession nonsense was over with, he’d go out to have a walk. He needed to be out in the open again… and to check the quickest route out of that town, just in case.

***

“This… this is for me? Really?”

“Of course!”

“Made it ourselves!”

“Couldn’t make you keep using that old thing!”

“No offense, Cheech.”

“Please don’t chase us with a stick again.”

“Hmph. You can count yourselves lucky I just sat down.”

There was something oddly amusing in the protective way Cheech patted the old guitar on his knees, and if he’d looked Miguel would have seen Héctor - still sweaty and panting a bit, because pulling tombstones back upright was hard work - trying and failing to hold back a smile. But he wasn’t looking, all of his attention taken by the guitar Óscar and Felipe had just handed to him, white and shiny and with a skull motif on the head. It was the most beautiful thing Miguel had ever seen, let alone owned.

“You mean it? It’s mine?” he asked, his voice suddenly small, and looked up to see both twins grinning, clearly pleased with his reaction.

“Sure!”

“We said it, didn’t we?”

Miguel smiled, trying to ignore a sudden tightness in his throat. “Thank you! It’s… I just don’t know if they’ll allow me to keep it…” he muttered, barely daring to touch the strings. The sisters at the orphanage tended to frown upon personal possessions, saying it wasn’t fair for one child to have more than the others. But maybe, if he promised he'd let other children use it, and play it for them...

"Of course they won't," Felipe muttered, sounding almost offended.

"Imelda wouldn't let them," his brother added, causing Héctor to frown.

"Your sister is still a novice, chicos. She can't argue against a decision taken by one of the Sisters, or la Madre Superiora, any more than I could argue a decision by Padre Edm-- Ernesto."

"But she would," Felipe pointed out. That caused Héctor to smile a bit, a fond smile that he wasn't quick enough to smother.

"Oh, I know she would. That's exactly what worries me," he said, causing the boys to laugh a little and Chicharrón to scoff.

"Hmph. That is an argument I'd like to see," he muttered, throwing away the stick he'd been chewing on for his pet rooster to catch and, apparently, try to kill. Miguel was pretty sure Juanita wasn't right in the head. "Either way, these two pend--"

"Cheech," Héctor said, a bit warningly, but the old man waves a hand in dismissal.

"... These two are right. That guitar is yours. If those penguins--"

"Cheech."

"-- If the nuns try to take it from you, they're thieves," he finished, rolling his eyes at Héctor before looking at Miguel. "Just do as Héctor did when he was your age and leave the guitar with me, muchacho. I'll keep it at my place and you can come play it whenever you want. If anyone asks, it's mine."

"That's lying," Miguel pointed out, but he was already grinning from ear to ear, holding tightly onto the guitar. "Thanks, Cheech."

"Don't mention it. Better to hear your music than your whining when it's taken from you."

"Aww, he has a heart!"

"Soft as butter!"

".. Don't push it, kids," Cheech warned, but Óscar and Felipe just grinned before looking back at Miguel expectantly.

"Well, come on! Play us something!"

"Yes, we made it for a reason!"

"It probably needs tuning first, that is not our thing..."

It did need tuning, but Miguel took care of it quicky; when he gave a strum, the sound was perfect. For a moment he considered playing one of Héctor's songs - he wrote so many of them, he'd showed him his songbook once - but he knew he didn't like to let too many people know he wrote songs that were not about religion at all, so in the end he just went for something else entirely. There was that song he'd heard a couple of weeks ago from a few travellers, how did that go again...?"

"En el condado del Carmen Miren lo que ha sucedido Murió el Cherife Mayor Quedando Román herido"

"Otro día por la mañana Cuando la gente llegó Unos a los otros dicen: 'No saben quien lo mató'"

“Se anduvieron... anduvieron…” Miguel's voice faltered, the next line failing to show in his mind, his fingers stilling on the strings. For a moment he felt lost, that odd sense of utter confusion when something you should know escapes you for no reason - but then another voice rang out and yes, those were the right words.

"Se anduvieron informando Como tres horas después Supieron que el malhechor Era Gregorio Cortez!"

"Wha-- oh! Padre Ernesto!" Héctor exclaimed, quickly standing upright - he'd been leaning on a grave, which he wasn't supposed to be doing. Not that Padre Ernesto seemed to care.

"Brother Héctor. My apologies, I couldn't resist," he said brightly, leaning against the low dry stone between the cemetery and the path he must have been walking on.

“You can sing!” Miguel exclaimed in awe. They really had been sent the best possible priest. “I mean-- you sing so well!”

Ernesto smiled, looking almost giddy at the praise. "Gracias, niño. It’s been a while since last time I got to really sing. This is one of my favorites,” he said, climbing over the low wall to step in the cemetery. Miguel blinked up at him as he approached.

"You know this song?"

"Who doesn't? He-- er," Padre Ernesto paused, and seemed to hesitate, but then he shrugged and he was smiling again, like it was nothing. "It's a very popular song up north near the border, but it makes sense it's not heard as often here," he added, and glanced towards Chicharrón. "You’re the gravedigger, aren’t you? I don't believe we have me-- gah!"

With a sudden screech, Juanita threw himself at Padre Ernesto in a whirlwind of fury and feathers. Padre Ernesto hurriedly stepped back just as Héctor yelled - “No, Juanita!” - and launched himself to grab the rooster. Still sitting on his chair, Cheech raised an eyebrow.

“Juanita doesn’t like him,” he noted, sounding oddly solemn and ignoring the confused look Óscar and Felipe were exchanging. Miguel would have pointed out that the rooster didn’t seem to like anyone he didn’t know well, but his attention was taken by Héctor’s struggle to contain Juanita. He’d managed to grab the rooster, who didn’t seem pleased at all but wasn’t struggling as hard as Miguel knew he could to break free.

"Sorry! Juanita is not always like this. I mean, he's often like this. Just not always," Héctor was saying, causing Padre Ernesto to blink.

"Juanita?"

"Yes."

"But it's a roos--"

"We know. Cheech wouldn't change his mind, though," he added with a chuckle, and to Miguel's relief Padre Ernesto laughed, reaching up to smooth back his hair. There had been a lot of protests from people visiting the cemetery, claiming that Juanita had tried to attack them as they paid their respects. Padre Edmundo’s calming words were the only thing that had kept some of them from trying to turn Cheech’s pet into dinner. It was good to see the new parish priest wasn’t adding himself to the rooster’s long list of enemies.

“Cheech, this is Padre Ernesto,” Héctor said, thrusting Juanita in his arms a little more forcefully than it would have been necessary. The old man huffed, but reached to stroke his rooster’s head to calm him down before nodding towards the priest. He didn’t try to get up from the chair, but that could be excused due to his wooden leg… as long as you couldn’t guess that he simply didn’t want to stand up.

“Juanita doesn’t like you,” he repeated drily. A slightly annoyed expression crossed Padre Ernesto’s features just for a moment before he smiled and shrugged.

“Then it seems Juanito and I--”

“Juanita.”

“-- Shouldn’t come too close to each other for our mutual safety, then,” he said, his smile a little sharper, and turned his attention on the guitar in Miguel’s hands. “That’s a fine guitar.”

“Of course it is!” Felipe piped in, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest.

"We made it!" his brother echoed immediately.

"The best guitar we ever made!"

"Also the first guitar we ever made."

"Which still makes it the best, though."

“Right!”

Padre Ernesto laughed. “You did an impressive job, then. It sounded really good. And you’ve got some real talent there, muchacho,” he added, causing Miguel’s chest to swell with pride. Héctor had said that, too, but Héctor was always nice and encouraging to everyone even when they were terrible at things, and it made it hard to tell how real his praise was.

“Thank you! Can you teach me the rest of the song? I could only memorize the first part.”

“... You’re playing it by memory?” Padre Ernesto blurted out, blinking, and Héctor chuckled, reaching to ruffle Miguel’s hair.

“As you said, Padre, he’s got real talent,” he said. It was something he would have never said in front of Padre Edmundo, because he would have definitely muttered something on how he should be mindful not to feed a child’s pride, as it was a deadly sin and whatnot. Padre Ernesto, however, just nodded in agreement and held out a hand.

“Would you mind?” he asked, and Miguel’s eyes went huge. All fear that someone would take away his guitar seemed very far away; he knew, instinctively, what that was about.

“You can play, too?” Miguel asked, handing him the guitar. He took it with a wink.

“Some say it’s what I do best,” he said, and gave the guitar a strum. The sound put a smile back on his face. “Now, it’s been a while, but let me see. Brother Héctor, care to join…?”

***

Gustavo hated horses.

They stank, they tried to bite you or kick you or worse and they always, always made a mess; Padre Edmundo’s donkey had been so much easier to look after than the beast the new priest had come riding on. But looking after it now was among his duties, even though it was clear the horse wasn’t especially fond on him, either.

It followed that, as he walked back to the church, he wasn’t in a good mood. What did help, however, was hearing music and singing coming from the cemetery, because he recognized at least two the voices.

Insortaron a Cortez Por toditito el estado: "Vivo o muerto que se aprehenda Porque a varios ha matado!"

Well, now that was a good chance to knock Héctor down a notch or two.The darling of the parish, and the darling of the orphanage before then - who did he think he was? The cemetery wasn’t the right place to play music with that brat who kept following him around and the old gravedigger who kept refusing to die. Héctor was so clearly good for nothing, but Padre Edmundo had been entirely blind to that.

Well, now the parish was under new management. What an unwise move, letting himself be caught; it would make for a rather bad first impression with the new priest. Certainly Padre Ernesto would see things his way.

Decía Gregorio Cortez Con su pistola en la mano: "No siento haberlo matado Al que siento es a mi hermano"

Almost giddy with anticipation, Gustavo walked the few steps that separated him from the stone wall and leaned on it with a sneer. “Giving spectacle in the cemetery, brother Héctor, really? I wonder what Padre Ernesto is going to sa-- Padre Ernesto?”

Under his stunned gaze, Padre Ernesto looked back at him in mild confusion, a white guitar still in his arms, pausing mid-twirl. At either side of him, the little brat and Héctor - who was holding that old guitar made out of scraps - stared at him like hares before a coyote. The old man was scoffing, the the two boys whose names he kept forgetting snickered.

“Oh, Gustavo! Care to join in?” Padre Ernesto smiled.

Gustavo opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Ignored the way Miguel was beginning to smirk, ignored the smile beginning to tug at the corners of Héctor’s mouth, and took a step back. His eyes kept shifting from the priest to the guitar in his hands, and then back to him.

“No, I. Er. I was just here to… to…” A bell rang, and Gustavo recoiled. “To remind you that the afternoon mass will be in a hour,” he blurted out.

The smile on Padre Ernesto’s face faded like a blown-out candle. “Ah,” he said. “About… about that--”

“We need to go and get ready!” Miguel - who, for some reason, was the main altar boy despite being nothing but trouble - exclaimed, and took the white guitar from Padre Ernesto to hand it to Chicharrón before he took off running. “Come on, Héctor! See you in church, Padre!”

No running in the cemetery, Gustavo should have yelled, and he normally would have, but now he couldn’t quite find his voice. He just stared at their retreating backs, speechless, and didn’t notice Padre Ernesto glancing at the church as though staring at a hangman’s noose.

***

Everything was going fine.

Mass was about to begin, he barely remembered how it was supposed to start off, the purple robe for la Cuaresma was uncomfortably tight - "We'll get Ceci to fix it up," Miguel had said, like Ernesto would know who the hell that was - he generally had no idea what he was doing, and he was rather sure he was about to throw up. But other than that, all was well.

All right, all right. No need to panic. I've got this. I can do it.

"... Are you all right, Padre Ernesto?"

Ernesto looked at Miguel, all prim and proper in his altar boy clothing, and smiled brightly.

Oh God I can't do this.

“Never been better,” he said, and he sounded like he meant it. “Where’s Brother Héctor?”

“Oh, he plays the organ. He’s really good, hear that?”

He did, yes; he could hear the organ playing, and a chant he recognized - the entrance chant. So, time to go out there. Ernesto drew in a deep breath, nodded at Miguel, and stepped out of the sacristy. Just as he did, everyone stood.

The damn place was crowded despite it being a Saturday afternoon mass, likely because that entire damn town wanted to have a look at their new priest; in different circumstances, Ernesto would have appreciated being at the center of attention. Now he could only focus on moving towards the altar, trying to look at no one at all, and the short walk seemed to last hours as he tried to remember what the priest always did at the beginning of mass.

He bowed to the altar, right? Right. And kissed it. And I think he incensed it and the cross. Miguel has incense, that has got to be it. All right. I got this.

He went through the motions mechanically, very nearly spilling the burning incense on the altar and on the Bible - in Latin, so entirely useless to him - but thankfully completing the task without incidents. He handed it back to Miguel, stared up at the cross, and swallowed. What was it that the priest always did no-- oh, wait. Right. He remembered that, at least.

Slowly, Ernesto crossed himself, knowing that behind him everyone else was doing the same. He spoke staring at the cross, trying to keep his voice firm. It came surprisingly easy, considering that he was beginning to regret not letting the army hang him.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti," he said loudly.

"Amen," everyone spoke as one behind him. So far, so good. Shame that he had absolutely no clue how to go on. He should have paid attention at Sunday school.

Ernesto looked down at the Bible, hoping to find a clue there, but absolutely not a single word made the slightest amount of sense to him. He uselessly scanned the pages, and he let his expression slip into panic for a moment, forgetting that he had his back turned to most of those present, yes, but not to all of them - and he completely missed the wide-eyed look Miguel was giving him. In the end, he set his jaw. What the hell, he would just do it his way, and hope for the best. Worst case scenario, he’d run for the back door.

“Brothers and sisters,” he said, turning and putting on his best smile. “Let me say it is a honor to be here with you all."

His words caused the parishioners to recoil, clearly taken aback. It was not how a mass was supposed to go - the priest, Ernesto knew, babbled in Latin with his back turned to everyone else almost all the time, turned around to administer the Eucharist, and then went back staring at the cross and babbling in Latin until it was over. Hopefully, they’d enjoy a change.

"I would like to once again extend my condolences for the loss of Padre Edmundo," he went on. His gaze wandered left, past a group of slightly confused nuns to Héctor, who still sat at the organ. "Let's... let's have a minute of silence to pray for him, sí?" Ernesto added, and bowed his head, hands joined. He shot a quick glance around to see that everyone was doing the same, a couple of people on the front rows wiping their eyes before doing so.

The change of pace had probably taken them aback, but if he played his cards right he could make it through that without raising too much suspicion - just a young, new priest from out of town breaking the mold for his very first mass there. They could think him eccentric, perhaps, but that wouldn’t be a problem, at least in the short term… and he had no intention to stay any longer than he had to.

With a deep breath Ernesto looked up, unclasped his hands, smiled, and began talking. And kept talking. He was good at it, and no one interrupted him, no one argued. Little by little, he found he didn’t have to fake confidence anymore. All was well.

As long as no one saw through his act, he’d be fine.

***

For several moments, Miguel could only stare at Padre Ernesto in stunned silence.

He was talking about God now, suggesting that they had the choir sing again because ‘he who sings prays twice’ - a quote from a saint, though now Miguel couldn’t remember which one - and he sounded really confident, convincing, and charming. Everyone in the church was listening intently, clearly surprised by the change from the usual liturgy but going along because, well, the priest would know.

Except that the man standing before him - the man who had saved him from drowning, agreed not to tell as much to anyone else and just taught him a song - was not a priest. He simply couldn’t be. No one else knew because they hadn’t stood where he stood now, they hadn’t seen the look on his face as he stared at the Bible... but Miguel had. He knew.

‘Padre’ Ernesto could swim, he could ride, he could sing and play and who knew what else, but he didn’t know a single word of Latin.

***

Father John Johnson found himself staring at the mass - no, the mess - unfolding before his eyes, speechless.

It had been a long journey to Santa Cecilia, as he'd been warned, but with God at his side he'd made it there unscathed. Tired, yes, and hungry and thirsty and burned by the sun, but he accepted it all gladly - especially on Lent. Jesus Christ had suffered far worse while fasting forty days in the desert; he could endure some discomfort as he carried out his mission to teach those people proper Catholicism, to free them of their ridiculous superstition and stomp out the pagan... rites they kept trying to mix with the Church's teachings.

He'd been travelling for the better part of a year now, going from town to town, from parish to parish, to that end. He wasn't always welcomed, but then again neither was Christ. He would endure, preach to those who’d listen, and carry on as every Jesuit should - prove he was worthy of the cloth he wore.

He was in the right. He could not be led astray, or frightened into giving up his mission; he wasn’t afraid of putting his life on the line. Salvation does not come for free, after all, and he would pay the highest price if need be.

Todo modo para buscar la voluntad divina.

When he'd arrived in town, there had been few people in the streets. Most were in church for the first mass by their new parish priest, a man had told him while glancing curiously at his blond hair and pale complexion; that was how John had learned that the priest he'd written to and was supposed to meet, Father Edmund, had died, and that one Father Ernest had just arrived to replace him. John had nodded, and murmured a silent prayer for him before he'd continued towards the church, following the directions.

Even though he usually stuck out like a sore thumb, his arrival had gone unnoticed; when he’d silently stepped inside the church to go stand in a corner, not one head had turned towards him. Everyone was staring, as though transfixed, at the priest… who was currently giving his back to the cross. And leaning on the altar with one elbow as though he was simply having a pleasant chat about God. Which, really, was exactly what he was doing.

In Spanish.

Good God, that was worse than any other place he’d visited. Even though those people kept insisting on mixing paganism with Catholicism in the most distasteful ways, at least the other parishes had known how to hold a proper mass. It seemed that he’d arrived just on time to help the people in that town; God had been wise to guide him there. There would be a lot of work to do, but all well worth it and desperately needed.

As that mockery of a function continued, John tiredly closed his eyes and allowed himself a long sigh, a hand reaching beneath his cassock where, in an internal pocket, he kept his Bible. He brushed his thumb on the worn-out cover, tilted back his head and opened his eyes, staring at a painting of Jesus Christ ascending to Heaven right behind the altar.

Lend me strength, he thought, not knowing just how many times he'd find himself repeating that plea in the weeks to come.

***

[Back to Part 2]

[On to Part 4]

#pixar coco #miguel rivera #ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #imelda rivera #coco #fake priest au

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