#THIS TINY FRICKING TOWN IN THE MIDDLE OF NO WHERE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nagipops · 3 years

Note

hii I love your blogs sooo much you're really talented (I just needed to say it sorry) so straight to the point, I already made 2 requests to you and I really enjoyed your writing so I would like to make another again. As I'm clueless about what to request I'll just ask for random hcs for konoha 11, idk if it's too much but if so then you can do with Neji (I love him so much), Kakashi and Naruto. Thank you in advance and sorry anything ^^

RANDOM KONOHA 11 HEADCANONS!

FEATURING: naruto, sakura, shikamaru, ino, choji, neji, rock lee, tenten, kiba, hinata, and shino

WARNINGS: mentions alcohol, drugs, food, bugs, and the tiniest nsfw mention if you get the joke. hehe

A/N: AHHHH ANONN this seriously made my day, im so so glad you enjoy my work!! 💖

NARUTO

you know how we all have “the chair”, where we throw all of our dirty clothes onto?

yeah, imagine that, but from the seat to the fricking ceiling

its just a GINORMOUS MOUND of clothes, you wonder how he even goes through that many clothes so quickly???

definitely shoves it under his bed whenever guests come over (somehow)

holds chopsticks really weirdly. but it works.

asked tenten to put his hair into space buns to mimic his sexy jutsu and went around flirting with the village

jiraiya was so proud of him T-T

comes up with the WORST pickup lines

they’re so bad, its almost charming. almost

has gone AWOL multiple times, disappearing from everywhere, just everywhere

it scared you a little, so you searched the entire village for him

you finally found him sitting on the ledge of a cliff, gazing out at the vast sea

concerned and panicked, you cried out to ask him what was wrong

he turned to you with a crestfallen, devastated look on his face and said,

“i bought shrimp ramen instead of chicken ramen.”

you’ve never searched for him after his disappearance ever again.

SAKURA

100% makes origami shurikens and chucks them at you

they are deathly precise and deathly sharp. seriously, how are these not illegal weapons yet???

writes threatening motivational notes to herself on the mirror

“u got this!” “make sure to smack naruto today!” “ino sucks!”

her backpack would always be way too high up on her back. idk why but. it would

does her hair all nice and pretty before she goes out but once she arrives to her destination SHE KEEP. TAKING. IT OUT. and redoing it over and over and over again

like it’s impossible to make eye contact with her because she’s holding a bobby pin between her teeth while braiding her hair

her guilty pleasure would be hostess treats

ding dongs are her favorite. don’t ask me how i know, i just know.

eats the yellow starbursts just to spite naruto and all her haters

loves small lap dogs, she think’s they’re so cute and cuddly

but she especially loves chihuahuas

they’re so feisty and naruto HATES them, so of course she had to go and get one for herself

dresses the poor dog up in little bonnets and jackets and ties its tiny fuzzy hairs into pigtails

she and the chihuahua are not that much unlike <3

SHIKAMARU

this man is a god at shogi but he absolutely SUCKSSSS at cup pong.

is this an ick? idk. but he is absolute trash at this game.

it gets even worse when he’s got a couple drinks in him

tries to calculate the velocity and acceleration and angle and shit but his shot is always a good two feet off BYE 😭

just mutters an “aw, shit” before awaiting his turn again

hates checkers, loves chess

“checkers is for WUSSIES” - shikamaru nara

i said this in another post, but he is Very Good at whistling

like that’s his hidden talent

can copy any tune with the perfect pitch and rhythm

speaking of, he can do really cool tricks with his tongue

like making a four leaf clover, touching the bridge of his nose with it, flipping it upside down, you name it

he has slanted, scrawled handwriting, to the point where it’s almost illegible

wbk he cheats in school SO OFTEN. but he never gets caught. he’s not stupid, he just couldn’t care less about his classes.

thinks weed and e-cigs are stupid, cigarettes are where it’s at

you just can’t replicate the feeling of taking a drag from a cig after a long, tiring day

plus he looks hella cool while doing it B)

INO

teaches the boyz™️ how to braid their hair

like they all gather in a circle around this feisty fashionista and fail attempt to braid their hair

sakura was just fuming in the sidelines

“OI, INO-PIG, THAT’S A DUTCH BRAID, NOT A FRENCH BRAID!!”

yeah, ino 🙄

the only one that can actually do it is neji because a) this man is talented af and b) he’s got the long hairrr

ino probably envies his thick, sleek hair because hE’S a bOy

also asks everyone for their blood type and zodiac signs and tells them if they’re compatible with her or not

and definitely judges you for your sign 😣

“oh, you’re a gemini? hmm, what a shame...”

makes bouquets for her favorite people and kin assigns everyone a flower

only assigns the pretty nice ones to the people she likes (sorry sakura, you’re out of luck)

one of her favorite hobbies is crafting! she’s really good with details and small things so she loves making those miniature dollhouses and stuff

also really good at watercoloring. especially painting flowers and landscapes

also i feel like she would be really good at playing any instrument because of her skilled hands

can play a badass flute solo. period.

CHOJI

would honestly rather die than get anywhere NEAR an asparagus

he just thinks they’re so gross and bitter and NOT SALTY

he always eats his yakiniku a little bit undercooked because he’s way too impatient to wait for it to cook fully. who do you think he is??

whenever he cloud gazes with shikamaru, when asked what he thinks a cloud looks like, he just says some sort of food

“oi, choji, what does that one look like to you?”

“a... yakiniku grill... with... pineapple rings on it! ooh, and a wagyu steak right there!”

he thinks pringles are an abomination to society. where’s the crisp? where’s the grease? where’s the saltiness?!!!

asks ino to teach him how to do his hair all fancy and the two of them devote an entire day learning different hairstyles

it’s his new favorite thing to do now :D

he really likes crayons!!!!

like he’ll write with them, draw with them, color with them, do everything with them

he’s even tried to eat them. he said they tasted good.

definitely had the 128 crayon pack WITH THE BUILT-IN SHARPENER, and everyone thought he was the coolest kid in town

he ate it UP, he even scored some bbq dates with the ladies

i also feel like he loves basketball, and he has a MEAN slam dunk

like his vertical isn’t that high, but the man can REACH

he loves when people laugh at him when he challenges them to a 1v1 and then proceeds to absolutely destroy them <3

NEJI

he seems like a cucumber kind of guy.

just cucumber

like i feel like he puts it in everything; soba, salads, sandwiches, his face, yeah

it’s mellow and cool, just like him!

speaking of, i feel like he lives for spa days and facials

it just lets him be alone in his little cucumber scented world for an hour or two and he gets damn clear skin from it as well

seriously he has PERFECT skin. flawless. not a single blemish. his cheeks feel like baby butts they’re so smooth.

i feel like he’d be a god at solving rubik’s cubes, don’t ask me why

like if anyone scrambled theirs on accident they would just take it to neji and he’d solve it in the blink of an eye

CAT PERSON!!! loves the little meow meows

who are we kidding, neji basically is a cat; agile, aloof, does silly things without trying to, very cute

he just feels akin to the little fuzzballs and he thinks petting cats are extremely therapeutic. good for the soul

he is a golf man. he would take his juniors golfing and everyone thinks he’s uncool. cmon neji let them go to the skate park at least T-T

also very good at karaoke, definitely surprised everyone once he got a few drinks in him since he started serenading you

LIGHTWEIGHT!!! do not get more than one shot of alcohol in him. he will go berserk.

i also feel like he’d really love photography; not taking pictures of people, but of nature

he loves taking a quiet stroll through a pretty forest and snapping pictures of all the unique flora and fauna

it’s so serene ︶ ‿ ︶

ROCK LEE

100% milly rocks everywhere

gai got in on it too once he asked what lee was doing

“is that what all the youthful cool kids do these days!”

they also dab together. a lot

DO NOT BE SEEN WITH THESE TWO!!! you are not associated with them.

definitely is the one breakdancing in the middle of the dance circle at a high school party

he’s mad skilled at it too

headspins and windmills galore

challenged naruto to a dance-off and completely OBLITERATED him

lee then asked if naruto wanted a rematch, this time with one hand tied behind lee’s back

naruto obliged, and he STILL lost

RIP naruto and his fangirls, they all scrambled to lee afterwards T-T

i feel like his favorite subject is science

not the boring physics equations and laws and theories but the fun EXPERIMENTS

definitely has singed all of his hair off one time and he went to gai blubbering to help him grow back his precious hair

but he loves experimenting with different combinations and chemicals to get different reactions each time

created a potent love potion and carried it around with him all day one day

and it was actually working

girls were flocking to him left and right, staring at his lips and his face

he was so abashed at the sudden attention

heck, it even worked on sakura

“oi, lee-san!”

“hehe, yes, sakura-san?”

her eyes shifted downwards to his lips and his heart thumped harder

“hey... lee-san?”

“what is it?”

“you have something on your lip. we’ve been trying to tell you all day but you just winked and blew kisses at us.”

legend has it lee has still not recovered to this day.

TENTEN

has THE prettiest handwriting. and she can write SUPER fast

it’s like a superpower

like she transcribed five pages of a report in less than two minutes with perfect handwriting

naruto is so jealous.

she is also super good at origami! those diligent, accurate hands aren’t just for throwing things

taught sakura how to make shurikens but does NOT endorse any violent uses of them

she can replicate all of her weapons with paper and they can actually function, it’s so cool

made paper kunai knives one day and the wholeee village wanted to get their hands on them

i feel like she’d listen to mitski. idk i just get those vibes

LOVES BIG DOGS!! especially fluffy wuffy samoyeds

like man’s best friend?? no, GIRL’S BEST FRIEND!!

hugs and cuddles and squishes all the big dogs

she thinks small dogs are spawns of satan

sakura and her have definitely quarreled over this

but at the end of the day, all dogs are adorable fur babies, so she lets it slide :,)

KIBA

kiba always looks SO GOOD in photos you take of him, candid or not

like you could just whip out a camera and snap a photo of him at any given moment and he would look perfect

you framed a picture of him yelling at akamaru for peeing inside the house

it’s pure artwork

i feel like he tries to swagger around with his hands shoved in his pockets but it fails MISERABLY and the girls are wondering if he broke his leg or something 😭

kiba just walk normally. for the love of god please just walk normally.

he tries to slump back in his chair really low but one time he slouched way too low so he slipped off of his chair and onto the ground LMFAOOOO

he just wallowed there... in shame...

also.. he LOVES when the girls put makeup on him!!

he tries to act like he hates it. but it secretly gives him so much confidence

not to mention the girls hyping him up are a huge ego boost

okay the inside of his jacket hood is the warmest. thing. EVER!!!

seriously, no wonder this dude is so happy-go-lucky all the time, he’s living in literal heaven 24/7

it’s like you’re sleeping on a cloud inside a warm, cozy bed during a cold winter morning

10/10 would recommend letting him give you his sweatshirt when you’re chillin with a hair tie ❤️

HINATA

always smells like lavender soap. always

also has the cutest pencil pouches with little puppy faces and kawaii things

oH and she has those mini yoobi highlighters, she thinks they’re so cute (and functional!)

everyone flocks to her to try them out and marvel at the cute tiny highlighters

and they try to steal them from her but she doesn’t even stop them because she’s too timid to 😭

naruto goes BALLISTIC over them

she lets him have all of them <3

tennis girl!!! tennis girl.

all of her opponents always underestimate her because she’s so timid and shy and quiet

but she has a KILLER serve

and then she takes her opponents to the slaughterhouse with a complete shutout ;)

she’s really athletic believe it or not, she can beat most of the boys in a mile run and she has incredible endurance

i feel like she really loves velvet scrunchies

she just thinks they’re so pretty and they keep her hair soft so they’re cute and functional

also takes the PRETTIEST notes!!

color codes, dividers, headers, you name it, it’s all super readable too its insane

everyone asks her for her notes, not to study but just to appreciate the pure artwork that it is ^w^

SHINO

shino is SO easy to prank

“how do you catch an eyemaster?” *cue naruto and kiba snickering*

“eyemaster bait. that is because—”

even when everyone’s laughing their asses off, he still continues to explain his answer since he does NOT GET THE JOKE

tried his hand at writing haikus

here’s his best one so far:

“Bugs are amazing. That is because they are bugs. Bugs are very nice.” - Shino Aburame

VERY proud of it, since it took him weeks to perfect

praise it, pls

had one of those ant farms and bug-catching kits as a kid

and he would fill the kit TO THE BRIM. LIKE IT WAS HEAVY BECAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY BUGS.

he loves the little chitters of the different bugs

he had jars of different bugs all lined up on a wall shelf in his room

collects silkworms off of trees and sticks them into his pockets (no i definitely did not do this as a kid...)

HELP I FEEL LIKE he would record a timelapse of his ant farm growing and upload it to youtube with a movie maker title screen that says

“my ants”

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

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celestialflamesme · 3 years

Text

| KARMA AND CRAZY MIDGETS | A Venai One-shot Modern AU | Fairy Tail Next Generation |

Ships: Raidyn Dreyar x Venetia Redfox

Dedicated to @primaverafrog @luna-chan00 @biorckstudios18 @animaration-fts @cxndy-stxrs (Lol, I can't believe that no-paragraph breaks worked😂 I fooled Tumblr, y'all!😎😆)

You'd think having a town overtaken by the mafia would make people more apprehensive, if anything. But if Magnolians were anything, they were huge (and he simply could not stress this enough) idiots.

Raidyn prided himself in not partaking in anything Fairy-esque which was more than what he could say about some of his colleagues (Yes, they named themselves Fairy 'Tail' of all things! How no one in this town even got the spelling right was beyond him....)

"Did you hear about Fullbuster and that Fernandez chick? They're together now!" Some red head he'd forgotten the name of (What! It was too late to ask her now!) stage-whispered.

"Who? Storm?"

The entire cafe burst into laughter. "Like Storm would even look at a girl that's not Nashi."

Point proven. They!! were!! on!! first!! name!! basis!! (He bet no one in this room even knew his last name, let alone first. Not that it mattered. He liked slinking in the shadows, although it was practically impossible with his snow-white hair)

Geez, did these people have no lives? They were talking about delinquents for Pete's sake! And ones that sure loved messing up the town in their infamous brawls. But did the people care? Nooooo.

Ugh, one more year and he'd be out of this whacked up place. Wiping a tabletop, he forced a smile on his face and pretended to be interested in the topic.

"Cass, I'll have a black and a burger with fries," a voice interrupted. A voice he was very familiar with.

Did he happen to mention that the most annoying one of them all had made this her hangout spot?

At 5'1, you'd think Venetia Redfox would be the least intimidating person ever. But with crimson red eyes and a Devil-may-care attitude that made up for it, no one dared mess with her. She also caused 75% of the fights in town and had a smirk straight out of a Wattpad Bad-boy fanfic.

Boy, did he hate her.

"You're gonna chip it off with that grip, Blondie."

Oh my god, she did not just-

Raidyn shot her a glare and strode to the back of the register, faintly registering a chuckle (Who the hell did she think she was?) before picking up another order.

Little Miss Redfox however sat at a corner table and continued doing whatever the hell she usually did every Tuesday and Friday for 3 hours in a row (he should know, he was there glaring at her at closing time).

But the kicker this time was, at that moment, her phone rang. You have never really seen your world end right before your eyes if you haven't seen a 5 foot psychotic looking delinquent decked in leather that drove in a motorcycle there by the way (How does one willingly ride on a metallic death-trap like that?!) mumble the words 'Cha cha real smooth' and pick up a call with the most deadpan look ever.

Raidyn almost cried. Almost.

"Are you kidding me? Do it yourself! I swear to God, you always do this shit, Dragneel!" She got up from her seat and walked out, just like she looooved doing smack dab in the middle of her classes back at Magnolia High.

Good riddance.

........

He jinxed it. Karma was such a bitch.

Though no sort of karmic revenge could explain the shit he had to go through that week.

First off, he had 4 assignments due in by the end of the week. And turns out that was the exact week his dear red-head colleague decided would the perfect time for a vacation (It's the middle of September, where in hell's name was she planning to go to?)

Guess who had double shifts now?

This clown.

Ugh. Talk about chivalry and all that loyalty shit.

And yes, of course his car had to break down, and the local bus had to change it's schedule, which left him with his last resort: walking 4 and a quarter miles to school (Oh, he found that out the hard way all right) to college. Nashi and the Fullbuster kid (He sure loved walking around shirtless a little too much) decided to brawl (again) and bam, his locker got caught in the crossfire.

In fact things were so overly shitty that he became skeptical come Thursday when the day seemed relatively normal.

"You've been scowling all week, Dreyar. Anything the matter?"

Raidyn snapped out of his reverie and groaned. "Dad, why not just call me by my name like any normal person would?"

"Because that doesn't build-"

"CHARACTER!! WE GET IT!" His mom, Mirajane mimicked with a scowl. "Well, we're just going to get two Happy meals and then we're off, honey!"

He faintly registered Hunter snickering in the background (How immature. Raidyn wasn't one to get embarrassed by his parents. Plus, none of it would ever compare to the Disco Fiasco of 2001. How else do you think he got his car? Sweet, sweet guilt-tripping....)

The day buzzed past but his suspicions only intensified tenfold. (Call him a pessimist, he didn't care) And like a bull in a China shop, a tiny midget Redfox (the one and only) strut in.

Now, he was behind the counter at that moment handling the red-head (he really ought to learn her name someday) so he didn't notice 5 feet of brute strength that climbed up behind him and dragged him (poor, unsuspecting him) into the supply closet.

Oh no, he was not kidding. The supply closet. Of all the places the perpetrator could've-

The lights flickered on and he screeched (What? Any human would!) at the red irises staring determinedly into his own non-red eyes. (Seriously, were those even real?) Raidyn wasn't scared of no judgement, what did scare him (maybe not that much, now that he knew who those belonged to) was Satan's minion and her RED AS FUCK EYES! LIKE SERIOUSLY-

Clearing his throat and trying to salvage some faux dignity after that dramatic display, he grunted, "Touch me one more time and you're-"

"Yeah, yeah I get it, big guy. Look, I need a favour."

Venetia Redfox crossed her arms and stood threateningly in front of the entrance.

Who was she kidding? "Nope," he muttered and swerved right around her and made his way to the counter. (Pipsqueak. She really should've seen that coming.)

And right as he turned right towards the display case, he found her leaning against it with her shoulder, looking bored. "Yes. And now."

How the- PPHIGXUTDUTZUT- HOW DID SHE JUST-

"Parkour." She deadpanned.

Raidyn gave Venetia a long, long look and sighed, striding towards her. Her smirk widened in anticipation as-

He picked her up like a sack of potatoes and tossed her over his shoulder.

"WHAT THE- THIS IS HARASSMENT!!"

"Technically, you cornered me first," he stated matter-of-factly and dropped her on her feet (she looked like a hissy kitten, hmm.) Then proceeding to close the doors at her, he picked up a poster of her (he kept posters of all of them for a day like this. Ah, foreboding luck. He could feel it.) and pinned it onto the front door.

BANNED: VENETIA REDFOX

(Was he even allowed to do that, you might ask, but bah, who cares? Rabid girls are a nationwide threat.)

.................

As he wrapped up and prepared to leave, Raidyn had a niggling feeling he forgot something very, very crucial. Uh-

A body collided onto his own and climbed (I kid you not) him (THE FUCK KIND OF ANIMALS DID MAGNOLIA OWN?) before a tiny, rough hand muffled him. Oh no.

"Yoph kiphing mmph!" Raidyn groaned.

"I need you to teach me how to solve a Rubix Cube."

What. Excuse Raidyn for not knowing, but was Rubix cube some mafia codeword for mafia stuff? Stealing a car, fighting goons, skipping classes or drug dealing? Raidyn Dreyar had a long jail-free life ahead of him, mind you.

BUT SERIOUSLY, SOLVE A RUBIX CUBE?! HOW FRICKING RANDOM WAS THAT?! WHO EVEN TOLD HER HE KNEW HOW TO SOLVE ONE? WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THIS GODFORSAKEN TOWN?!!!

(Some might say he really had to stop reading those novels his mom bought. Some might be right. Whatever.)

Back to the topic on hand, he mumbled inaudibly. Her cropped hair tickled the sides of his face as she squinted at him, "What?"

Was she kidding right now? He pointed at her hand covering his mouth and her eyes widened as she let out a nervous laugh. (Geez, talk about stupid.)

He took in a deep breath and shook her off him. She stood there patiently (As patiently as a Redfox could, anyway.) as he straightened his shirt.

"First things first, NO!" And he stalked away.

He registered a groan from behind him and quickened his pace. However, the midget in question managed to propel herself at break-neck speeds and no joke, TACKLED him.

"PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-"

"GET OFF ME, YOU PSYCHOTIC-"

Karma was such a bitch.

Macao, the guard standing by the parking lot, huffed, "They don't pay me enough for this."

...............

The only reason he was doing this was because she offered to fix up his car. (How did she even know it wasn't starting?) Also because it had been a while since he brushed up on his Rubix skills. Also because he wanted to get rid of the midget before she followed him home. (He figured his mom and dad would ENJOY her presence and replace him with her. He had crazy parents.)

Everyday she'd make sure to meet him (mostly by cornering him in the hallways) and in exchange for these classes, she'd work on his car at the weekend.

The first time she came over to his house (to work on his car, but he didn't know that) was rather embarrassing because he kinda sorta thought she was a burglar and locked his garage, yelling at the top of his lungs. His dad, Laxus came out with a taser (Dad sure loved his tasers.) Of course, when he finally opened the garage doors, he was met with an unimpressed look from the Redfox in question. (God, he was such a drama queen.)

The midget had a lot of trouble twisting her hands at the beginning of her sessions and he loved teasing her about her 'butter fingers' every time she accidentally flung the cube across the room or out the window in one rare occasion.

You know, she was kind of fun to have around.

"And that's the algorithm! You're all done!" He cheered, glad to have this behind him.

"Geez, you don't have to sound that excited to get rid of me." Venetia teased.

"What? No....." He feigned innocence.

"D'aww, admit it, you enjoyed my company."

"Please, more like I was scared for my life." He mumbled. She snorted.

"Catch you later, alligator."

Did she just- "NO WAY, JOŚE!" (That was lame even for him. Gosh dang it, she was laughing at him....)

Fricking Redfox.

......................

That weekend, Raidyn thought he deserved a good ol' evening out with his friends/colleagues (technically it was the manager that suggested it and he tagged along for the heck of it. He wasn't much of a social person, per se.)

He guessed Karma was still on a streak when Venetia Redfox entered the very same place they'd chosen for karaoke night and sat herself on one of the tables in front of them. And proceeded to order nothing.

The raven-head didn't even have her notebook (that always made her look disarmingly tiny) or her phone. Oh well, she must've been waiting for someone.

As the hours passed, he found himself exceedingly irritated for no reason.

"Who in their right mind would stand up The Venetia Redfox?" His colleagues whispered (rather loudly, according to him) and she just tapped her fingers away, oblivious to it all.

Fine, whatever.

"Sup." He towered over her and greeted, moving to take a seat next to her.

She blinked at him.

Okay, you couldn't exactly judge him. She was a regular and tipped good and people were being annoying about her and oh, her tapping was distracting and he had a massive headache coming. That's all. Simple as that.

"Don't you have better shit to do?" Red irises stared at him impassively.

"What are you doing here by yourself?" He asked coolly.

"Well, Nashi was supposed to-"

"I'M HERE! I'M HERE! I'M-" Both tilted their heads just in time to see Nashi ram into the glass doors. The now groaning pinkette was sprawled on her butt in front of the entrance. "Fricking doors."

"That's her." Venetia deadpanned. Raidyn shook his head sympathetically.

"Heyo Ven! Heh, kinda lost track of time beating Frostbite at Mario Kart," her doe eyes scanned him. "Raidyn! I didn't know you guys were friends!" She grinned.

Raidyn gave her a two-finger salute in greeting.

Nashi's eyes suddenly widened in realisation. "YOU'RE TEACHING HER THE RUBIX?!"

"Uh..."

"Yup." Venetia smirked. "He's a great teach. His parents have taken me in as their own."

"WAIT! WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?! HOW WAS I NOT AWARE OF THIS?!"

"Just like that, Blondie. What can I say? It's the charm," She grinned at his bewildered face.

"You guys are all ready for the challenge then?" Nashi wiggled, now nervous, "Ven, I didn't mean to drag you into this, but Clint was-"

"It's cool, dumbass." Venetia shrugged. "Ain't your fault that they're dipshits."

At his confused look, Nashi clarified, "People like picking on us just because we're Fairies and held to the same standards as our parents. This frat dude decided he had to prove he was smarter than the Fairies and decided to pick a Rubix cube challenge of all things." She rolled her eyes. "Bet he taught he was real original thinking that one up."

"Bet he did." Storm scoffed. (Wait, what?)

"WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?"

"From- the front door?" Storm scratched his head in genuine confusion. (As if Raidyn was the weird one that sneaked up behind people like a stalker!)

Nashi facepalmed. "Why the heck are you here, Frostbite?"

"Just like that."

"Gosh, you're so annoying."

"Wanna say that to my face, Flamebrains?!" Storm yelled. (Oh, not again....)

"Guys, please don't...." Raidyn said, but both didn't seem to be paying attention to him.

"I SAID YOU'RE ANNOYING! FIGHT ME!" She threw a punch at him and before he knew it both were throwing napkin holders and vases at each other.

Venetia seemed to be enjoying the show, and pulled him to the back of the room, "This might take a while," she stated. "Wanna grab a milkshake?"

Well, he was kind of craving one. "Why not?"

..................

Today was the day of Venetia's challenge and Raidyn found himself nervous.

"You sure they won't wreck the place?" He grumbled for the umpteenth time.

Venetia groaned. "Do you have no faith in my abilities, Dreyar?"

"Nope. None whatsoever."

She raised an eyebrow, "Shame on you, then. I wouldn't let a good friend lose his job on my behalf. Dally ho, now!" She cheered.

He blinked at her, giving her a small reluctant smile. "Kick ass, Ven."

She tilted her head toward him and gave him a grin that knocked the breath out of him. "Thanks, Raidyn."

Shit. When did- when did she get so pretty?

"Look who we have here. You sure you're in the right place, Redfox?" A voice condescended. The owner of the voice was a grimy looking kid that looked like one of those middle-school spelling-bee losers that bragged about it whenever they met someone new.

"Clint." Venetia deadpanned.

Raidyn broke out into a fit of laughter, making 'Clint' (What kind of sad name was that?) glare at him. (Oh please, Little Clint was totally quaking in his boots! Why'd he even bother coming?)

"Let's begin then! Pick a shuffler." Clint drawled.

Venetia picked Nashi while Clint, after a moment of deliberation, picked one of his gang-mates (What did they call it? The Math club?)

"You may begin."

Both Nashi and the grimy dude shuffled for the better of 15 seconds. Clint just scoffed and clicked like a pretentious know-it-all, making comments like, "You're making it easier by shuffling harder, you know. Make it tougher for me, Nashi dear."

Raidyn had to give it to the pinkette, he would've smacked the teen by now.

"Okay," the referee, Storm cheered, (even though he looked like he was ready to kill Clint) "Timer starts, NOW!"

Both twisted and turned the cube furiously, Venetia sticking her tongue out in concentration while the teen twisted his arms like a man possessed.

"I'M DONE!" Venetia dropped the cube with a thud onto the table. "How's that for a Redfox?"

"E-excuse me? That's insane! It's only been," Clint checked the timer like the sore loser he was, "31 seconds!"

"Too bad," she smirked. (Well shit, that was hot...)

"I demand a rematch!"

Nashi moved to protest, but Venetia silenced her with a hand, "Whatever you say, kid..."

"This time, we swap cubes!" He whined like the little weasel he was.

3 minutes later, the rematch began and Venetia plopped her cube on the table with a glare.

"You think you're smart giving me a faulty cube, don't you?"

"And I'm done!" The weasel had the nerve to say. "I don't know what you're talking about Venetia, I used the same cube and it worked just fine. Maybe it was a stroke of luck on your part the first tim-"

He couldn't finish his tirade because Raidyn took that opportunity to check the cube (He didn't have to though, he believed Venetia enough to know she wouldn't make up excuses.) and yeeted it at his face like he'd been itching to do from the moment he saw the turd.

"YOU IDIOT! I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS-"

"GET HIM!"

"OH NO, YOU DON'T!" Nashi growled, "I'M ALL FIRED UP NOW!"

Oh dear.

Okay, maybe the fight wouldn't get too big, these were scrawny kids after a-

Yeah, Nashi Dragneel just flipped a table on them.

There goes his job.

"GO, NASHI!" His manager cheered. (Okay, thank God this town was crazy.) "Raidyn! You can take the day off, kid. Have fun!"

Storm chose that moment to enter after his momentary toilet-break. "I WAS GONE FOR 3 MINUTES, WOMAN! WHAT THE HELL?!"

"JOIN US, STRIPPER!"

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!"

"YOU HEARD ME!"

Venetia, unbothered by the chaos behind her, pulled him by the arm, her eyebrows furrowed at him, "Well, I tried. But hey, looks like you still have your job. That's a win, right?" She scratched her neck, laughing.

He sighed, putting caution to the wind. This was Ven after all. "Ice-cream date? My treat for today's win."

A smile erupted on her face, "Only if we take my bike there."

.............

Bonus (That no one asked for):

"Okay, so you have to grip it right. Not too tight. Just enough to nudge it in the right direction." Venetia explained, from where she was seated in front of him on the death tra- bike.

Raidyn nervously laughed, "I've got this in the bag, I don't know what you're worried about." The tilt in his voice gave away his panic, however. She raised an eyebrow.

"Humor me then."

Okay.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

GO!!

"DON'T CLOSE YOUR EYES, YOU IDIOT!!" Venetia screeched. She reached over and took over the handlebars just in time as they nearly crashed into a tree Raidyn was headed for.

He got off the bike and tripped, falling face-first on the ground. Fricking Jelly-legs. "I am never riding that death trap again." Raidyn groaned.

"What the heck?!" Venetia questioned, bewildered. "How'd you even get your driver's ed with such sucky basics?"

"IT'S A DEATH TRAP, THAT'S WHY!!"

"OF COURSE IT'S A DEATH TRAP IF YOU'RE NOT LOOKING WHERE YOU'RE GOING!!!!"

"Fight me Ven, I'm never getting on that thing again!"

"Too bad, I have to drop you back home too." The sneaky devil dared smirk at his plight.

Fricking Karma.

He wouldn't have it any other way, though.

.............

#raidyn dreyar #venetia redfox #shutora redfox #venai #gale #miraxus #fairy tail #ft next generation #venetia x raidyn #nashi dragneel x storm fullbuster #nashi dragneel #storm fullbuster #modern au #rubix cube #bad boy remake

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welcometoloving · 3 years

Text

Welcome to Loving: Chapter 2

Shane sat atop a white picket fence running down a dirt path towards a two story, dull light blue house overlooking the beach. He had chosen a spot where the paint was not peeling, and the points of the pickets had dulled, yet they still dug into the seat of his pants; he took no notice, however, his full attention directed to the wind through his hair and the island just off the coast. Though it was fully daylight, it still gave him an eerie feeling; he could see why the devil supposedly made it’s home there. He was interrupted from his thoughts, though, by the sight of three other teens heading towards him down the path.

“Hey Shane, where've you been?”, called out the one in front. The two behind him laughed.

“Just sitting here”, he called back. “What do you need?”

“We’ve been looking for you. We’re gonna go check out that hill in the woods!”. He pointed his thumb in the direction of the trees. Shane paused.

“I thought we were doing that Tuesday?”

“Well there’s been another sighting. Plus, there’s a full moon tonight. It’s prime hunting time!”

“I thought the moon had no effect on ghosts”, Shane inquired.

“Well, it can’t hurt,” replied the boy behind the one in front. “Besides, Tuesday’s gonna rain, and who wants to go ghost-hunting in the rain?” Shane thought for a moment.

“Alright, fair point”, he acknowledged. He jumped off the fence and turned towards the house further along the path. The wind changed direction, blowing in from the lake, and carrying upon it a peculiar smell of fish, incredibly faint, yet recognizable nonetheless. Shane wrinkled his nose, before the wind changed it’s direction again, and the scent disappitated. He looked back towards his friends.

“Well come one, let’s get our gear ready!”

* * * * * * * * *

Up in a small room on the second floor of the light blue house by the lake, the four teens sat and sorted their gear. Flashlights, trail mix, rain ponchos, granola bars, pocket knives; all went into the backpacks. Shane held up a black rectangular device, with a screen, buttons, and a radio speaker. He addressed the girl to his right.

“Hey Seher, what is this?” he asked. Seher glanced over.

“Oh, that’s a spirit box. It runs through radio channels. People say ghosts can say things using it.”

“BS”, interrupted the boy across from Shane. “Like a ghost would talk through radio stations!”

“Shut up, Jack”, said Shane’s brother, Anas. “As if a ghost would talk to you.” He paused, thinking for a moment, before continuing. “Actually, Jack may have a point; imagine being able to catch a radio station out here!”

“Why haven’t we used it before?”, Shane followed up.

“I ordered it a month or two ago,” responded Seher. “Took a while to get here. Delivery trucks don’t really come to tiny, isolated towns”

“Fair”, Shane responded. His brother chimed in.

“Hmm, small isolated town, off the map, unknown. Great place for a haunting, or a disappearance!”

“Heck”, added Jack, “It’s a miracle this town hasn’t vanished already!”

“Oh, it’s no coincidence,”, said Shane and Anas’s mother, coming up the stairs. “But never mind that; when are you four going to head out?”

“Oh, we were just on our way”, replied Anas. He and the others placed their cameras around their necks, picked up their loaded backpacks, and filed out the bedroom door. They jumped down the stairs, and exited the house into the waning light of the late afternoon.

* * * * * * * * *

As darkness settled across the treetops, four figures entered a narrow, winding path through the woods. Further and further they travelled as the light slowly waned, bouncing between trunks and rocks, sneaking up on each other through the shadows, and occasionally turning their heads to appreciate the small amounts of starlight that showed through the bough’s silhouettes.

“BOO!”, yelled Jack, jumping out from behind a particularly thick trunk. There was a scream, and in response a startled jump from Seher up front. Shane turned, facing Jack and deadpanned,

“I heard you coming from a mile away, easy.”

“I didn’t”, wheezed a very scared Anas. “What the actual frick?”

“Seems like we found our first ghost for tonight”, said Seher. Jack turned inquisitive towards her.

“Who?”, he asked?

“You”, replied Seher, “If you don’t stop fooling around!” Jack turned to Shane and said in a low voice,

“I think I’m being threatened”.

“I dunno, maybe you should check again”, said Shane. Jack gave a wicked grin, before turning back to the other two, who had gotten a bit ahead.

“Well, couldn’t hurt to make sure”, he said, before hastening to catch up with Seher and Anas. They continued on for another half hour, before coming to a clearing in the woods, centered around a rocky hill. Boulders littered the far side, but the near was clear and grassy. The moon shone brightly above the clearing, full and luminous. It was complemented by the hundreds of visible stars, which, contrary to the warm night, made the four teens shiver. The air stood still, and gave the whole area a silence that was eerie to behold. Jack, Anas, and Shane looked towards Seher, who, taking the cue, stepped fully into the clearing. Head forward, she issued instructions to the other three.

“We’ll climb the hill on this side, it’s a lot easier. Then we can set up the cameras on the top towards the forest. Jack, can you make a salt circle for us to retreat to if things get sticky?” Jack pulled out a half-empty container of salt.

“Sure,” he responded. “Where do you want it?”

“Oh, at the very top should do,” said Seher. “We can also set up the cameras inside it too so that nothing can mess with them”.

“Random squirrel in the trees, ready to ruin our plan to catch video evidence of ghosts”, laughed Anas. He turned to the trees, both middle fingers brandished high. “Screw you, squirrels”. Shane laughed and gave Anas a soft punch to the shoulder.

“Let’s not provoke the most dangerous creatures on Earth”.

“Ghosts?”, Seher asked.

“Squirrels”, Jack confirmed. “Those little bastards will get us all one day.”

“Crazy people”, Sana breathed, exasperated. “We’re hunting ghosts, not rodents”.

“Hey!”, protested Anas. “Us rodents are a noble race, perfectly worth hunting… oh wait oh no”.

“Well, if you insist”, said Jack, hoisting the camera stand he was holding like a gun. Anas backed away.

“Woah man, hold up,” he began, before Seher interrupted them.

“Okay you two, it’s time to stop fooling around and get ready. Jack, did you finish the protective circle?”

“Yeah, and the cameras will just take a few minutes”. Jack and Shane got to work on the cameras, while Seher and Mark pulled out other equipment. Eventually, they had both finished their jobs, and they settled into a sitting circle on the far side of the hill, next to the rocks. Seher laid the spirit box in the middle, and switched it on. The device emitted a loud stream of static, before developing a more recognizable, steady pattern of discordant sound and vague, disjointed syllables. Seher addressed the box.

“Is there anyone here with us? If so, please say something”. The box continued on it’s pattern of channels, with no discernable alteration. Seher tried again.

“If there is anyone here with us, please communicate using the box”. The wind picked up, blowing eerily through the trees. The air grew chilly, but they couldn’t tell if it was the wind or something else. The noise made by the box began to distort, as if trying to from a meaningful word. Finally, something seemed to come through, though just barely recognizable.

“Leave”, said the distorted voice. The four teens looked at each other with worried yet curious eyes.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”, said Seher. Again, the box began to form syllables, before forming another word, more clear this time.

“Go”, it said. Shane looked up.

“Did it just say go?”, he asked.

“I think so”, replied Jack. “But go where? Go away? Does it want us to leave?” The box’s emissions became violent. Out came a third word, clear as day, cutting through the air and through their minds.

“RUN”. Now they were afraid. Shane, Jack and Seher all looked at each other, then back at the spirit box. Anas spoke.

“Guys?”. They ignored him, and he started again. “Guy’s we need to leave”. The other three looked at him, then followed his gaze off into the forest, past the rocks. Lurking between the tree trunks, barely visible, was the shadow of something that looked like a man, but was thin, emaciated, and unnaturally tall, with long, spindly limbs. They froze in shock for a moment, before coming to their wits.

“Quick! Behind the circle!”, whispered Seher. Instantly, they scrambled to the salt line, careful not to disturb it. Once inside, they all stood, huddled together, and faced the figure in the trees. Jack, in front, raised his camera, and a small clicking noise came from it. Delicately, the shadow stepped forward, blending into the shadows, a hazy silhouette against the shadows of the trees. It continued forward, slowly, tentatively, it’s long legs bending and straightening in a way that made the teens sicken. Finally, it reached the edge of the shadows, and, after pausing for a moment, moved forward into the moon-lit clearing, parts of it’s form now horrifyingly clear.

That was too much for Anas. He opened his mouth and tried to scream, but no sound came out. Whipping around, he bolted towards the path back through the woods. Hesitating for a second, the others followed him as the thing moved slowly closer and closer to the hill.

The flight that ensued was panicked and clumsy. Each blundered their own path through the dark woods, vaguely along the trail, but none had time to mind the branches that scratched at their arms and faces, or the leaves that filled their open mouths and got caught in their hair. Occasionally, one of them would glance around, to make sure the others were with them, and, satisfied by the sounds of the other three crashing through the trees, would turn their full attention back to their frenzied escape. Eventually, they found themselves free of the woods and, in the full light of the moon and the stars, they analyzed the shadows of the trees. Backing slowly away they eventually determined that the shade was no longer in pursuit, and they were in fact safe. Convinced of their safety, they still hastily made their way back to the house, and collapsed on the porch.

“WHAT the HECK was that?!”, shouted Anas. They all looked at each other.

“I… I think we found ourselves a ghost!”, said Seher, astonished.

“I can’t believe it!”, exclaimed Jack.

“I know, right”, said Shane.

“No. I actually cannot believe it,” Jack clarified. “Ghosts don’t exist. There’s gotta be some other explanation. Like maybe a bigfoot-like creature, or a trickster of some sort.”

“We literally saw a walking shadow”, said Anas. “Explain that”.

“You know what?”, said Jack. “I will. You hear me?!”, he yelled, pointing to the trees off in the distance, past the road and field. “I’m gonna find out your secrets!”. The other three laughed.

“Sure you will,” said Seher.

“Mark my words”, replied Jack. “Soon, the forest will learn to fear the name of Jack Fyons!”

“Can’t wait to see the newspaper articles”, said Anas. “Local boy destroyed by own hubris, not a single person who knows any Greek mythology surprised.”

“You’ll see”, assured Jack. “You’ll all see. And what’s better, you’re gonna help me.”

“Uggh”, groaned Anas.

“Oh no”, uttered Seher.

“...this is where the fun begins”, said Shane, laughing.

#story #welcome to loving #supernatural #supernatural mystery #mystery #fiction

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dahliawolfe · 4 years

Text

Thunder

Ok, guys, this is an original story, but it’s very fandom-like. Picture Trueblood/Supernatural/Roswell, type thing. Enjoy.

Characters: Jordan James (OFC), Tatum Chandler (Tate) {OMC}

Jordan slammed the door of her car and peeled out of the parking lot. It was pouring buckets, and she should have been off of work half an hour ago. But of course, Courtney hadn’t come in to her shift on time, and Jordan had to pick up the slack, as usual.

The mountain roads leading to her cabin are slippery and dangerous, and if Jordan hadn’t been driving them since she was 10, she’d slow down. But she knew every curve and bump like the back of her hand. She’d just come around a steep curve on the last wooded road to her home when she spotted something in the middle of the road. She almost hit the damn thing, slamming hard on her brakes to avoid it.

In the middle of the road, being blasted by rain, was a large, white wolf. Straining to see if the wolf was breathing from the safety of her car, Jordan leaned forward, toward the windshield. She couldn’t see a fricking thing. Sighing, she unbuckled her seatbelt and cracked her door open. The rain smacked her in the face immediately as she fumbled in the door console for her flashlight. She jumped down from the old truck, landing in a puddle, drenching her legs and feet. She cautiously walked toward the wolf, crouching down beside it to see if it was alive. It was shallowly breathing, and its front left paw was drenched with blood. It looked like the poor thing had nearly had its arm ripped off. And dammit, now she had to take it home. Cuz Sebastian James had instilled one thing in his daughter growing up, and that was to help out where you could, give where it was needed, and not ask for anything in return. Getting down on her knees, eye level with the wolf, she spoke in a stern voice.

“Listen, if you want to live, you need to let me take you home and patch you up. Do NOT eat my face off, or you’ll die here in the middle of the road, in the rain and mud. Alone. Or, well, with my faceless corpse, whatever.” The wolf lightly snorted, and Jordan smiled a little. Straightening to a squat, she slid both arms around the torso of the wolf and heaved the both upwards, or she tried to. “Damn, dude, lay off the venison. Your ass is heavy,” she grunted. Planting her feet, she tried lifting the wolf again. She managed to make it to her feet, as the wolf gave a low growl of discomfort. “Hey, we talked about this now, Fido. No violence, and we’ll be copasetic.” Walking backwards, half carrying, half dragging the wolf, Jordan made it to her truck. Now the hard part. Lifting this goliath of a beast into her bench seat. Deciding to bite the bullet, she propped the wolf against the inner door well, climbed into the seat herself, and pulled. She flew backwards into the other door, wanging her head painfully on the driver’s side window, but she made it. Now, she had a very agitated looking wolf laying across her lap, soaking her good jeans in blood, mud, and rain water. Easing the wolf down into the seat, Jordan reached over and pulled the door closed.

…

The tiny cabin was miles from everyone. It was small, and had definitely seen better days, but it was home. And Jordan didn’t feel at peace anywhere else. She parked in her gravel driveway and went to unlock the front door, propping it open with a chair she kept just inside the doorway. She ran back to the truck, cold rain pounding down on her head and blowing icy needles against the skin of her face. The wolf blinked up at her lazily as she reached in, trying to catch hold and drag it towards her. The mud that her ass landed in when the wolf fell from the truck onto her was cold. It took her breath, and instinctively, she held the wolf tighter, burying her face in the scruff of its neck. The wolf gently licked her collarbone, and she smiled. “It’s ok, that was my bad,” she assured the creature, hoisting herself up.

…

After stitching up the torn skin of the wolf’s paw and leg as best she could, Jordan cleaned the wounds and made a bed by the fireplace for the poor creature. She made sure it drank a little water, then she placed a knitted blanket over it. “I’ll be right in there, Little Guy, you’re not alone. Just rest. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.” Normally, Jordan would ask the town vet to have a look, but there had been a lot of wolf attacks lately, and she knew that Dr. Jacks would just want to put him down. Jordan wasn’t willing to do that. She knew that the wolf could be saved. She just hoped she didn’t get mauled to death for it.

…

His feet padded silently across the hardwood floors as he made his way to her room. The room of the crazy, wonderful girl who had saved him. She could have left him lying in the middle of that road in the rain to die, but she’d stopped. She’d carried him to her home. And Tate couldn’t help but smile. She’s a small thing. Couldn’t be more than 19. But she’d shouldered the considerable weight of his wolf. She was determined. And Tate couldn’t decide if she was brave or crazy, but he could have easily killed her. And she took that risk, willingly. He looked down at his torn-up arm. It would take a few days to heal, but her care for it had certainly helped the process. The cold air blowing across his naked skin brought him back to reality. The sun would be rising soon. She’d awaken. And seeing a large, male, human, naked in your home watching you sleep probably wouldn’t be a good thing to wake up to. He let the familiar, yet still painful sensation take over him. His skin was replaced with white fur, his hands and feet with paws, and his mouth with a snout and fangs. He hobbled back to the bed she’d made for him and laid down, letting exhaustion take over him.

…

Groaning, with a stretch, Jordan sat up in bed. Bright sunlight was streaming through her bedroom windows, and she knew that she had to get up and get ready for the day. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she made her way to the living room to check on the wolf. His tail thumped lazily when he saw her. “I guess you’re feeling better, huh?” she greeted, kneeling down to pet the wolf gently. “Hungry? I’ll see if I have any wolf-appropriate food in the kitchen.”

∞

Tate watched the girl walk into the kitchen. Her long, honey colored legs peeked out from under the worn men’s shirt that she was wearing. She hummed to herself as she rummaged through the fridge. She endlessly fascinated him. Finally, she flicked the eye of the stove on and turned to him.

“What do wolves eat, hmm? Deer? Cows? Rabbits?” she placed her palm on her hip and stared down at him. “Oh, wait! I know!” she walked excitedly to the fridge and dug around before straightening up with a triumphant grin. “Steak!” she exclaimed, holding up a package of red and white marbled meat. She hummed to herself happily as she retrieved a plate from the cabinet, dropped the steaks onto it, and slid it across the floor to him. Oh, she wanted him to eat it raw? No thanks. He preferred his meat rare to medium, thanks. Taking his paw, he gently slid the plate back to her, looking up at her expectantly. “Huh? You don’t want food?” He snorted, shaking his head. He then rose gently and trotted to the stove, pawing at the oven door.

“You want it cooked? But you’re a wolf. How do you survive out there?” she nodded outside, but nonetheless, picked the steak up and dumped it in the skillet.

∞

Jordan watched the wolf devour the steak while she munched on her eggs and bacon. Strangely, the wolf had let her prepare her own breakfast before consuming his. Once he finished his meal, he laid on the floor, head on his paws and looked up at her. “You good, Bro?” she asked, wagging a fork at him as he eyed her plate hungrily. “For real? You’re still hungry?” The stare down continued until she sighed and placed her plate onto the floor in front of the wolf. “I’ve got to get ready to head into town anyway.” She made her way to the bathroom to shower, the sound of a hungry wolf’s teeth clinking against her grandma’s china in the background.

end of pt 1. want more?

#werewolves #story #Original Work #original character #scifi

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jemej3m · 5 years

Text

To the Good Place We Go (p.1)

part one! hope u like this crossover. hopefully it makes sense???

I read @gluupor‘s hilarious Good Place au and wanted to have a crack at my own! note to gluupor, i’ve changed things around a bit but thanks for the idea!

link to their the good place au here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782301

part two here: http://jemejem.tumblr.com/post/182518336942/to-the-good-place-we-go

Dan was having the worst day.

And this was the Good Place. She wasn’t supposed to have bad days. She’d spent her life trying to wade through misgivings and a lack of opportunities: Now she was dead, and she was supposed to be happy—forever!

Instead, she was staring at her living room, which was on fire, and wondered what the frick she did to deserve such bullshirt.

Neil—always, Neil—pointed at Kevin. “He did it.”

“Dan, I’m so sorry—“ Matthew Boyd begged. “I tried to get them to stop yelling, but Kevin fell back onto a candle and so Andrew went to get water to put it out, but he thought it’d be funny to pour Vodka instead—How he got Vodka, I don’t know—“

“It was me!” Nicky cheerfully chirped from the corner.

“And so Kevin was really on fire, so Allison asked Nicky to turn on the sprinklers, but not before she could ask for an umbrella, but she never specified which sprinklers, so whilst your garden is currently being nicely watered, Kevin’s whole ass is exposed and your living room is a mess!” He wore his pathetic puppy eyes, and whilst he’d been pestering her to go on a date (“We’re soulmates, Dan! Think about it! We could be happy together, forever, if you just listened to me—Hey! Where are you going—!”) He was seemingly sincere.

Kevin was sitting in a bucket of ice, teeth chattering. Neil was laying on the sofa, grinning up at Andrew, who smoked lazily. Dan hoped he hadn’t used Kevin’s fire catastrophe to light his cigarette, but knowing Andrew, he probably had.

“Oh, dear.” Renee said, softly, from Dan’s side.

Here’s how this all started:

Dan got into the Good Place. Wymack, the ever-present, genderless guardian of their neighbourhood who used he and him pronouns, F0X35, had greeted her at her initiation. She’d died in a brawl outside a strip club, her strip club. She knew she’d been protecting her fellow stage sister, but couldn’t understand how she’d ended up in the Good Place.

“Sex isn’t necessarily immoral, Danielle.” Wymack reminded her. “Neither is stripping. And saving your friend’s life with non-violent negotiations—very brave, and very effective!” They sighed. “Such a shame he had to stab you in the back out of fury as you were escorting your friend back inside. Would you like to hear a recording of how he is experiencing the Bad Place? Your friend stabbed him with your murder weapon out of anger.”

“She what?” Dan had blanched. “Is she alright?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Don’t you worry.” He huffed, arms flexing as they stood out of his chair. “Welcome to the Good Place, Danielle. Would you like a cup of coffee before Nicky escorts you to your new home?”

“But sir—“

“No buts.” Wymack pointed at her. “Tea, coffee, lemonade or scoot.”

She stood obediently, nodded in thanks and left.

She hadn’t need to worry about her unremarkably neutral life, wherein she’d done just as many shirty things as she had good things, because her soulmate—Matthew Boyd, an overbearing young man with horrifically spiked hair and pouted lips—confessed to her immediately.

“I don’t know why I’m here.” He whispered. They were sitting together on her couch: She was in a studio-style house, with a jacuzzi and a large bed. It was sophisticated but not excessive: It was perfect. “I overdosed on drugs at a socialite’s party, with a bunch of rich shirt-heads! Oh, gosh, Wymack’s going to kick me down to the Bad Place, isn’t he?”

“Shh.” Dan hissed. “I was a stripper and totally scammed and stole from all my customers so I could support my aunt and my baby cousin, I wasn’t much better.”

Matt looked relieved. “Oh, thank gosh. I was terrified of having to keep my secret for all of eternity. This must be why we’re soulmates.”

“Because we’re shirty people in disguise.” Dan said dryly. He looked sheepish. “Whatever. Whatever’s happened, it’s probably a mix-up. Do you want to go down to the Bad Place, because I don’t. My killer is there. So keep your mouth shut.”

“Yes ma’am.” He muttered.

That was how she’d found out about Matthew. The others had all followed suit: She found Kevin and Neil trying to beat each other up in a secluded spot by the lake, yelling censored profanities at each other and insulting each other with petty accusations.

“You stole Andrew’s whisky!”

Kevin blanched, before scowling furiously. “You were there!”

Dan tore them apart physically then tore into them verbally. By the end they were sullen but quiet, and Dan walked down the lake’s jetty, her heart thudding in her chest. How many of them were frauds? The neighbourhood only had three-hundred and twenty-two of them, and she could count four that definitely didn’t qualify to be there.

Andrew sailed past the jetty she stood on, laying on his back in a little row boat. His eyes were closed, arm thrown lazily over his face. In his hand, he spun a terrifyingly sharp throwing knife.

“Interfere with my things again and I’ll get you kicked out of here.” Andrew floated away, leaving Dan struck silent.

Make that five people.

Eventually, she discovered the rest. Some, on accident: Some, like Kevin and Neil, because of truly stupid and avoidable situations. Some, like Matt and Renee, just came right out with it.

That’s how all ten of them — Allison, because she was ‘deprived of gossip’, Renee, because she was at least somewhat moral, Matt, because Dan couldn’t shake him off her tail, Seth because he was arrogant but not stupid enough to miss this entire sham, Kevin, Andrew and Aaron, because they went everywhere together, Neil because he was like a lost puppy, and Nicky, because someone had called for him—ended up in Dan’s living room and promptly wrecked the place when she’d gone to check the perimeter for nosy neighbours.

She never remembered lighting those candles, anyway.

“Everyone,” She said, barely able to contain her anger. “Shut up. Don’t move. Or so help me, I’ll kill you all.”

“Too late.” Neil harped, before Kevin whacked him over the back of the head and he sulked into the couch.

“We’re going to figure something out, as a group, okay?” She insisted. “Okay?”

They mumbled in assent.

Dan sighed. If all the shirt she’d endured in her short life hadn’t aged her, trying to conceal eight people’s true moral standings so that they wouldn’t be struck from a peaceful afterlife surely would.

Welcome to the forking Good Place.

“Now, Renee, do you understand?”

She nodded. “Ingenious, really, sir.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fortunately for you, Renee, much of your reformation happened whilst on earth. The others didn’t get that chance, so it will take much longer for them to come forward about their true moral standings. You must not tell them that it’s a test, okay?”

“Okay.” She promised. “I hope they succeed.”

This was honest, as Renee stood by honesty: She had confronted Wymack on her first morning, after their introductory seminar in the town square, telling him her true upbringing, her crimes and her regrets. He had smiled with relief and sat her down in his office to explain the truth: A select group were all unqualified for the Good Place, but could earn their spot if dedicated enough. He’d known about her all along.

“I hope you all do.” Wymack confirmed. “This—Middle Place Project—Nicky!”

Nicky popped up from behind the desk, next to Wymack. Renee smiled at him and he waved, curls bouncing. “Yes, sir?”

“From now on, we’re referring to F-0-X-3-5 as MPP, for efficiency purposes, and also to keep it discreet. Also, tick off Renee Walker’s name from MRPFMPPL1.”

“What does that mean?” Renee inquired.

“Moral Rehabilitation Process For Middle Place Project List 1.” Wymack frowned. “That is a bit much, isn’t it. Nicky, change all the MRPFMPPL’s to just Test and whatever number it is.”

“Of course!” And then he disappeared again.

It was an odd thing, the afterlife. And while Renee had placed all her faith in God, she wasn’t disappointed to find a non-denominational place for a peaceful existence after death. Besides, Wymack was practically at the bottom of the chain in regards to omnipotent guardians.

He turned back to her. “Where were we?”

“Discussing the Middle Place Project.” She reminded him. “You were saying you hope we all succeed.”

“Right, right. Well, my superiors think it’s a bad idea. They’re a bit old-fashioned: Everything’s black and white for them: There’s no such thing as second, third, fourth chances, not for lost causes. Sound familiar?”

She nodded.

“We’re working on it, but it’s not your concern. Okay?”

“Okay.” She promised. His words were always soothing, so any unrest she felt was immediately eased.

“Alright, well, that should be everything.” He stood. “Get lost, Walker, and have fun.”

She hesitated by the door. “Wymack?”

He looked up at her from the papers on his desk. They hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Hm?”

“Do you believe in lost causes?”

He paused. A tiny smiled appeared. “Is there anything else worth believing in?”

She beamed and closed the door behind her.

Andrew wasn’t interested in his own wellbeing, but he’d promised Kevin that he wouldn’t let Riko take him down to the Bad Place, and he’d promised to always stand by Aaron’s side. Turns out Walker — not-so-innocent Walker — had beat him in Wymack’s honesty race.

Andrew had planned on telling him about his mother, the four homophobes at the bar, the arson and thievery, the violence. That’d surely get him sent to the Bad Place, where he’d wipe Kevin and Aaron’s names from record and then get to spend the rest of eternity being the Devil’s incarnate, or whatever.

So when Wymack had congratulated him, called his pet robot to strike his name off the list and informed him that it was all a stupid forking test, he’d felt a flicker of rage—towards himself, for not suspecting this.

Then his attention turned elsewhere. “Just me and Walker, right?”

“Correct.” Wymack nodded.

“So can you tell me about Neil?”

Wymack frowned. “What about him?”

“Well, he’s a liar and a threat.” Andrew said, petulantly.

“Is this because he’s your soulmate?” Wymack furrowed his brows. “I understand that with your past, such an intimate proposition might be intimidating, but I assure you that—“

What? Neil, his soulmate?

Irrelevant. Not true. Andrew didn’t have a soul, so how could he have a soulmate? He flung the fleeting idea aside and bludgeoned on. “No, I’m saying that Neil’s a threat to the safety of this whole fricking mission of yours and if you got your stupid fricking omnipotent head out of your frigid ash, you’d see the same. Ash. You know I’m trying to say ash, not ash. Fork.”

Wymack shook his head. “You’re not the boss here, Andrew. Okay? Leave me to worry about these things. Talk to Nicky about talking to someone, wont you? Trauma is best dealt with through professional therapeutic techniques.”

Andrew bristled, standing up.

“Storming out is very immature!” Wymack called.

“Fork you!” He yelled back.

So Wymack had given him a non-discreet warning to leave the problems to him, but since when had Andrew ever obeyed a request, or failed a promise? Never. And he wasn’t going to start now, not even in death. So he decided to take care of Neil himself.

Step one: Intimidate.

Glaring didn’t work. They were all standing around, socialising from behind glasses of champagne. Andrew let his eyes linger on Neil’s lithe form, the high cheekbones. And yet, when Neil noticed Andrew’s heavy stare, he simply rose his eyebrows up as a challenge.

He tried a more tactical method, being, shoving Neil up against a white-and-gold patterned wall in an abandoned corridor—who’s house was this, anyway?—his forearm against Neil’s throat.

“You’re not meant to be here.” He hissed, leaning in close enough that their noses were practically brushing.

“Really?” Neil snapped. “What about you, murderer?”

The accusation slid off Andrew like water off laminated paper, so he bared his teeth and leaned impossibly closer. “All bark, no bite, rabbit.”

“Rabbits don’t bark.” Neil’s lips curled up, ever so slightly.

Andrew shoved off him and made himself scarce.

So. Intimidating didn’t work. He moved onto step two: Investigating.

Nicky was useless, smiling in a way that made Andrew want to pull his teeth out and shove them into his eyes. “I can’t reveal personal information about other residents. I can, however, provide you with a Wikipedia page.”

Neil Josten.

It came up with nothing.

“Thanks for nothing.” He said, dryly.

“You’re welcome!” He beamed, before disappearing again. Good lot of help that was.

So, once again, he upped the theatrics. Nicky, though disapproving, gave him a dozen sachets of cracker dust. It was only a matter of time before Allison hosted another stupid party, as though she was trying to better her parents in the afterlife. Ridiculous.

“A drink?” Nicky offered him. He was deliberately standing by Neil, who was refusing to admit his discomfort and move away. Stubborn little shirt.

“Whisky.” He hooked a finger under Neil’s chin. “You?”

“I’m fine.”

“He’ll get a soda.” Andrew amended.

Neil frowned. “Why are you being nice?”

“Got off on the wrong foot, didn’t we? Wouldn’t want to continue our eternal partnership as soulmates hacking at each others throats, would we?”

The colour drained from Neil’s cheeks. “We’re what?”

Nicky appeared with the two drinks: Andrew intercepted, a sachet ready in his palm, and handed Neil the soda. It was still swirling around its glass when he took a massive gulp, positively shaken by Andrew’s admission.

“You seem shaken, Neil.” Andrew leaned forward. “Didn’t think a monster such as myself could have a soulmate? That’s very hypocritical, if my suspicions about you are correct.”

He drained the glass in an attempt to avoid answering Andrew’s pestering, but he was already wobbling on his feet. A secure arm around the waist kept him upright until they’d found themselves in what looked exactly identical to wherever they were before; Allison’s place was a fucking maze.

“What did you do!” Neil spluttered, furious. Scratching at his skin, his voice became hysterical and breathing became laboured. “I forking swear to gosh, I’ll kill you, I will—“

“What are you doing here, Neil?” Andrew demanded. “Are you from the Bad Place? Trying to drag us all back down there?”

“You think I’m a mole?” He said, incredulous. He was readily turning a putrid shade of green. Andrew wondered if what Nicky gave him was actually cracker dust. Could have been asbestos. cyanide, maybe even ground up Lucky Charms: There was no way of telling. “Are you out of your Gosh-darned mind, you psychotic forking midget?”

He was the midget? Neil was only three inches taller. Andrew leaned into his ear. “Give me one good reason to let you stay, and I’ll back off. Clear?”

“I’m going to be sick.” Neil moaned, shoving weakly at Andrew.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Then he left, leaving a very poorly and bewildered Neil alone. There would always be another day: This was the afterlife, after all. This was eternal.

What he wasn’t expecting was Neil Josten in all his blatant honesty, sitting on the roof of his own house at sunset. He had two cigarettes on hand, offering one to Andrew and looking out wistfully over the rolling fields and fellow neighbour’s abodes.

This house was identical to Cass’s. It was meant to be all his, empty of his old demons and offering only the best memories. If only Andrew’s mind was remotely functional: Then he would be able to isolate the good and the bad, and be able to live in peace under this roof. Except he couldn’t, so he had to stare at a forking muffin tray and think about the time his foster brother forked him half to death.

It’s why he had a hammock drawn up between two trees at the bottom of his garden. He was creating a nice little space for himself, behind a large bush that obstructed the house from view.

“I don’t really know why I’m so terrified of the truth when I’m already dead.” Neil said, thoughtfully. “I suppose I’m scared of meeting my father again if I’m sent down there. He’s the one who killed me, by the way. What am I saying—I know I’ll see him again. He’s my worst nightmare. He’s bad enough that they probably promoted him in anticipation of my arrival.”

“Why are you telling me this.” Andrew said flatly, despite the leap of his heart.

Neil shrugged, eyes cast downwards. “I know you wont turn me in. I don’t know how I know, or why I’m so sure, but I just—“ He waved his hands around. “I don’t forking know.”

Andrew could attest to that. Nodding, they smoked in agreeable silence. What was surprising was the weight of—could it be—guilt? It pressed down on his shoulders, and he hated. So he straightened up, looked right at the sun like he was never able to on Earth, and said; “Truth for truth. This house is a replica of my almost adoptive family’s home. I hate it.”

Neil was looking at him. Andrew hated that too. Why was it, that when they had all of eternity stretched out in front of them, he felt like spilling every secret he’d withheld on Earth? It made no sense. This made no sense. Neil made no sense.

Especially when he said; “So come stay at mine.”

So, yeah. Neil’s strange brand of honesty shocked Andrew enough for him to forget that nothing ever took him by surprise. But only for a moment. And yes, his devastatingly sharp cheekbones and incredibly blue eyes were horrible and Andrew hated every atom of Neil’s being, but he found himself smoking in silence beside the young man and finding it—comfortable.

As far as he knew, it was still just him and Renee who had confronted Wymack. A few weeks had to have passed since, but Andrew had no way of knowing the time or date, so he couldn’t say for sure. What he could say was that Wymack was frustratedly pacing grooves into the carpets of his office, waiting for one of them to step forward and prove their integrity. Neil was a jumble of lies and dead-ends, and the only thing he’d come clean about were his motives for staying in this place.

Neil would be the last to confess to Wymack. Andrew was sure of it.

Which was why, when Neil stood up at a neighbourhood meeting, Andrew’s entire being came to a grinding holt

He had the sun illuminating a red halo from above, the ferocity of his gaze intense and determined.

“I don’t belong here.” Neil admitted, in front of dozens and dozens of people. “I’m not who you think I am, and I don’t belong here.”

Oh, Andrew thought. Fork you, Neil.

hope u enjoyed!

#andreil #the good place au #the good place #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #aftg #david wymack #dan wilds #the foxes #the foxhole court #part one #jem writes

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katrinawritesthings · 5 years

Text

Jonghyun/Taemin; A Series of Lists (Part 23); PG

part 23: five times things were nice

“You’re so fucking thirsty,” Taemin mutters. Jonghyun wants to protest, but as soon as he lays his head back down on Taemin’s jacket and breathes in its smell he shivers a little and feels warm inside of his whole soul, and he knows that Taemin isn’t wrong.

masterlist

1 "Succ,” Taemin mumbles as he sprinkles water gently over the little potted cactus on the dash of his bike.

“Stop saying ‘succ’ when you’re watering me,” Jonghyun mumbles. Taemin glances up to find Jonghyun frowning at him from where he’s seated on the bike and bites back his grin.

“Do you not wish you could give me the succ once a week?” he asks. He looks back to the cactus and rubs a little speck of dust off of the “Jongie” nametag. Jonghyun huffs and doesn’t reply, which means his answer is totally a yes, and also that he’s totally jealous of his cactus counterpart. He reaches over to gently thumb away a drip of water that missed the pot and landed on the bike.

“Wouldn’t it be, you giving me the succ, though?” he asks. “‘Cause you’re giving Little Jongie water?”

“No, the nut is the water,” Taemin says. He shrugs it out casually, but like he expected, Jonghyun still bursts into loud giggles. He puts his arms on the dash of Taemin’s bike and buries his face in them, shoulders shaking with his laughter. Taemin grins lazily as he finishes giving Jongie his drink. He twists off the cap with holes stabbed through it off of his water bottle and nestles in gently back into Jongie’s tiny pot, then takes a sip from the bottle himself. Then he takes the bottle’s actual cap from his pocket and screws it on, and then reaches behind Jonghyun to slot it into his bag. Jonghyun continues to giggle and Taemin runs his fingers through his soft hair.

“Is there a reason why you invited yourself onto my bike, by the way?” he asks. He just got here to the motel with the rest of the group and was getting ready to head to Jonghyun’s floor when Jonghyun himself fluttered out here and sat himself pretty on the bike. At his question, Jonghyun’s shoulders scrunch up and he giggles even more.

“Oh my gosh,” he breathes, sitting up straight and fanning his face. “I was gonna--I wanted to tell you I wanted to fuck, but. Oh my fucking gosh.” He shakes his head and giggles more into his hands as he wiggles off the bike. He grabs one of Taemin’s hands and links their fingers together, ring and middle fingers squeezing Taemin’s ring finger like usual. “Let’s just get you all settled in, fuck,” he grins. Taemin reaches to grab his bag and lug it over his shoulder before Jonghyun pulls him too far away from his bike.

“Does getting me all settled in include napping together, maybe?” he asks. It’s tiring, being so funny all the time. And he’s wanted to nuzzle Jonghyun all day, fricking or no fricking. Jonghyun hums contemplatively as he tugs Taemin through the employee break room and Taemin puts back on his neutral face so no one else sees him being soft.

“I got an hour long break, so,” he says, and shrugs with a smile over his shoulder. Taemin snorts. He gave himself an hour to maybe fuck. That’s a little ambitious, and also a little cute. He tugs Taemin through the lobby and to his floor, shouldering it open and flouncing inside. Every now and again as he helps Taemin put his stuff away and wiggles into bed with him he bubbles into tiny fits of giggles that are absolutely adorable.

2 Taemin and Jonghyun are struggling. Jinki can tell. They’re struggling over there on the other side of the garage, trying to figure out how to continue changing the chain on Taemin’s bike. Jinki sits casually on his own bike, munching through a bag of corn nuts, and watches them. He originally came in here just to grab his snack and go read in his room, but this is just as entertaining, he thinks.

“No, I know what I’m doing,” Taemin is saying, holding his new chain in both hands with a furrow between his brows that suggests that he doesn't know what he’s doing. “You just--look, you take the old one all the way off, and then.” He pauses, looks at the old chain that he just broke, at how it loops around between the wheels. “And then,” he says again, jiggling the new chain. “Mm.”

“No, Tae, you, like,” Jonghyun says. He leans forward on the tall stool he’s sitting on, lifting one hand from between his legs to point. “You attach it, to the old one, and roll it through like that.”

“You what?” Taemin asks. “No, that--what? That doesn’t make sense.”

It does make sense, actually. Jinki licks a crumb off of his pinky. That’s how you’re supposed to do it, if you don’t want to take the whole back tire off.

“That’s how you’re supposed to do it, Tae,” Jonghyun frowns. Taemin huffs and frowns right back at him.

“Why do you think you know more than me?” he snaps. “You’ve never even worked on a bike. You still almost cream yourself every time I drive you to the town.”

Fuck. That felt kind of low, but Jinki still chokes and muffles a laugh into his hand. Holy shit. That’s a valid point.

“Okay, one, rude,” Jonghyun says with pink cheeks. “And two, I’ve read about it. You don’t need physical experience to read a step-by-step and memorize it.” He waves a hand vaguely towards the rest of the motel, which Jinki assumes to be also in the direction of all of his motorcycle books. He nods to himself. That also is a valid point. And it is about the same amount of chain-changing experience as Taemin, who Jinki is pretty sure has only ever let Amber work on his bike for him or taken it into a shop for anything more complicated than changing a tire.

“Well, if you’re so educated, you do it, then,” Taemin huffs. He thrusts the chain at Jonghyun; Jonghyun scoffs, offended.

“Fine,” he snaps, snatching the chain up. “Move,” he adds, hopping off of his stool and stepping in front of the bike. Taemin moves, and crosses his arms, watching Jonghyun look at the chain in his hands. Jonghyun bites his lip, holds the end of the new chain up to squint at, leans closer to the end of the old chain. “It’s simple, you just, attach them, like. Hmm,” he hums. His fingers rub over the end of the new chain blankly. “How do you… hmm.”

“Hmmm,” Taemin hums pointedly. As Jonghyun shoots him a withering glare, Jinki sighs to himself and rolls his eyes. Stuffing his corn nuts into his pocket, he leans over to fumble in the little repair pocket of his bag. He pulls out his master link and sides off of his bike. He walks over there lazily; they’re still bickering when he squeezes himself between them.

“I know what I read, I--oh,” Jonghyun says. He falls into a stunned sort of silence when Jinki gently but brisky tugs the new chain from his hands. Jinki wiggles the first few links on right behind the old one, latches them to each other with the master link, and then nudges Taemin out of the way so he can spin his back wheel and get the new chain rolling in. When it’s halfway around and the old chain is coiling on the floor he pulls back to smile blandly at the pair of them.

Both of them are looking blankly at what he just did with the bike.

“Ohhhh,” Jonghyun breathes.

“That makes sense,” Taemin whispers. Jinki gives them each a helpful pat on the shoulder before turning and walking away. As he heads towards the exit of the garage, he hears them mumbling to each other as they finish rolling the new chain around.

“We would’ve figured that out, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally.”

3 The second hand of Jonghyun’s little desk clock ticks slowly, silently, counting down the minutes to two in the morning. Jonghyun counts up. He counts each second, eyes catching every tick in the dim moonlight except for when he blinks slowly, willing himself to sleep. He’s nearing a thousand seconds since he accidentally woke up; almost twenty minutes. Usually it takes him at least half an hour to doze back off when his insomnia hits like this. He might not sleep for long, but some is better than none, and lying here doing nothing awake is still more rest than being up and doing something.

And he doesn’t want to wake Taemin under him. His breathing is calm, even, his chest rising and falling warm under Jonghyun’s head, his heart beating in a steady, soothing rhythm, his arm loosely wrapped around Jonghyun’s waist. Jonghyun wraps his own arm more secure around Taemin’s chest, nuzzling his cheek into his shirt. He’s hardly been back for a few days, and Jonghyun’s been so busy what with training Taeyeon and helping his sister get ready to have her booger babies and everything. It would be a shame to wake Taemin up now and make their daytime spent together all groggy and grumpy.

As he thinks, Taemin takes in a big breath and shifts under him. Jonghyun freezes, cautious; Taemin tugs him closer and nestles his cheek on top of his head. His hand curls into the fabric of Jonghyun’s shirt. Then he’s still again, and Jonghyun relaxes, and then--

“Jonghyun?” Taemin says softly. Jonghyun blinks. Oh. Heck. He’s awake? Fuck. He squeezes Taemin the tiniest amount.

“Yeah?” he asks just as softly. At his reply, Taemin starts; he jerks quickly, arm squishing Jonghyun for a second as he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Fuck,” he breathes on the exhale. His hand lifts to Jonghyun’s shoulder. “You’re actually awake?” he asks. Jonghyun lets out an incredulous breath. Why was he talking if he didn’t think Jonghyun would reply?

“Yeah,” he says. “I woke up a little bit ago. Insomnia, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Taemin mumbles. He slips his other arm around Jonghyun’s waist. “Okay,” he sighs. He doesn’t follow up with anything else and Jonghyun shifts nervously, guilty suddenly.

“Did I… wake you up?” he asks. He didn’t mean to--but he feels Taemin’s head shaking against his.

“No, I’ve just… been up,” he says. Jonghyun takes that statement in, then pouts, confused.

“This whole time?” he asks. Taemin shrugs.

“What were you doing after you woke up?” he asks. This time Jonghyun shrugs.

“Counting seconds,” he says. “Listening to your heartbeat.”

“Oh my god,” Taemin breathes. He takes both hands away from Jonghyun and Jonghyun can only assume, from the soft rustles and muffled curses above him, that Taemin is covering his own face and blushing. Jonghyun grins to himself. Of course he is. He can never handle soft shit. Just to be even softer, Jonghyun lifts his head to turn it and press a kiss to Taemin’s chest right over his heart. Immediately Taemin’s chest expands heavily and he wraps his arms back around Jonghyun, rolling them over, squishing Jonghyun beneath him.

“Stop that,” he hisses. Jonghyun giggles quietly and kisses him again. Before Taemin can puff up any more, he squeezes him and moves his head so he can speak.

“What did you wanna ask me?” he asks. Taemin hesitates, and then he deflates, slowly, in one big, long sigh. When he’s done he rolls back to his back and lets Jonghyun nestle on his chest again. Jonghyun slings his arm lazily over him.

“I was gonna practise asking you something,” he mumbles. “While you were sleeping.” His cheek falls against Jonghyun’s head and he sighs again. “It’s important, but not, like. Urgent important, you know? Ask me again another time.”

“Mmm,” Jonghyun hums. That’s a little worrying, and not entirely reassuring, but also, he’s real sleepy, and it’s easier for him to wiggle around his anxiety brain when he’s sleepy, so he does that and nods quietly against Taemin’s shirt. “Okay,” he hums. He’ll give Taemin some time to practise. For now he nuzzles Taemin’s shirt, brushing a kiss there that Taemin won’t notice just because he wants to.

“Can I help you sleep?” Taemin asks him. Jonghyun hums again. Can he be helped to sleep. He’s not sure. He knows himself and his brain pretty well by now but he’s never really thought about this. No one’s ever been awake with him when he’s woken up in the middle of the night before. He thinks to how he usually falls asleep with Taemin. Sometimes when they’re out back, and Jonghyun is just taking a break, he manages to take naps with him. He never takes naps normally. What’s different about those times, he wonders.

“Can you grab your leather jacket?” he asks in a tiny voice. Taemin is silent for a moment. Then he snorts softly and shakes his head. He also wiggles to sit up and lean over his side of the bed, so Jonghyun assumes it was a fond headshake rather than a disagreeing one. When Taemin lies back down, it’s with a tired flump. He lumps his leather jacket over his chest when he’s settled.

“You’re so fucking thirsty,” he mutters. Jonghyun wants to protest, but as soon as he lays his head back down on Taemin’s jacket and breathes in its smell he shivers a little and feels warm inside of his whole soul, and he knows that Taemin isn’t wrong. Taemin’s arm wraps around his shoulders and his other hand finds Jonghyun’s and holds it, thumb rubbing ever the back. “Also, you’re cute,” Taemin adds. Jonghyun smiles wide at that and buries his face in Taemin’s chest. Heck.

“Nighty night,” he whispers. Taemin hums back quietly and falls silent. Jonghyun guesses he’s going to try to sleep now also. He nuzzles closer and takes slow breaths, like before. He picks up Taemin’s jacket sleeve and drapes it over his eyes. Instead of counting seconds, now he counts each time Taemin’s thumb rubs softly over his knuckles. Then, when Taemin falls asleep first and his thumb stops, he counts each of Taemin’s heartbeats. He doesn’t know if it all helps; he doesn’t know if he falls asleep again faster like this than he does normally. He just knows that when he does finally doze off again, he feels happy.

4 “You know,” Jonghyun hums quietly. He shifts under Taemin’s arm and slips a hand around his strawberry daiquiri, bringing the straw to his lips to sneak a sip. Taemin lets him hold the whole glass. It’s only his second but he’s starting to get a headache from it already. He hums in question, sleepily running his fingers up and down Jonghyun’s arm. They’re just chilling, in a booth in the corner of Eunsook’s bar, watching patrons mill about doing bar things and enjoying quiet time together. Jonghyun takes the straw out of the daiquiri and sucks on the end with a little smirk, eyes fixed somewhere at the bar.

“Jinki’s pretty hot,” he says.

“I--you fucking--what?” Taemin splutters. He follows Jonghyun’s gaze now and looks at Jinki serving drinks behind the ar and then very quickly looks away because he doesn’t want to hear the words “Jinki’s pretty hot” in his brain as he looks at him. “He’s not hot,” he says. Jonghyun glances at him, raises a brow, and then looks back at Jinki.

“He’s hot,” he repeats.

“Stop saying that,” Taemin hisses. This is the worst thing Jonghyun has ever said to him, in his life, ever. He grabs his daiquiri out of Jonghyun’s hands, shielding it from him grumpily. He can’t have cute strawberry alcohol when he’s being such a gremlin. “You can’t even--you’re ace, you don’t know what hot is,” he says. Jonghyun snorts. He’s still holding the straw, and he presses it against his lip as he speaks, so it leaves a little circle indent.

“You know being ace doesn’t stop us from identifying an attractive individual,” he says. Taemin huffs and rolls his eyes. “Also,” Jonghyun adds, grinning wide at Taemin. “I’m gray ace, remember? And remember way back when I first told you, I said it was only you and one or two others that I’d ever gotten… you know. About?” He glances pointedly at Jinki when he pauses. Taemin takes a moment to register that, and then groans and puts his face in his hands. Awful.

“He’s my dad,” he groans.

“Yeah, and he can get it,” Jonghyun says. Taemin groans even louder. Why does Jonghyun keep opening his mouth and saying words.

“He’s--” Taemin sits up straight and reaches for Jonghyun’s chest, for the ring he keeps on a necklace tucked under his shirt. He tugs the ring out and and holds it in front of Jonghyun’s face. “He’s your--your--step--? No, fuck, your--your Jinki-in-law--no, dad, your dad-in--”

“My Jinki-in-law,” Jonghyun repeats with the most amused little smirk. Taemin scowls and narrows his eyes. Fucko.

“Your dad-in-law,” he snaps.

“My father-in law,” Jonghyun says. “Which still doesn’t change that he’s hot.” He sticks his straw back into Taemin’s drink and slouches lazily in his seat, looking back over the bar at Jinki. “The last time I was into him I was, like, sixteen, and he was too old for me, but like.” He shrugs, looking far too chill and unbothered for how intensely sweaty and uncomfortable Taemin is getting with this conversation. “Now, I don’t know, I’m forty-four, he’s fifty-five.” He shrugs again and lifts one hand to cushion the back of his head. “That’s not so bad. He’s hot.”

”Stop saying he’s hot,” Taemin hisses. “You can’t fuck my dad.” He can not believe that he just said those words out of his mouth. He can’t believe even more how Jonghyun laughs loud behind his free hand and looks at Taemin, eyes amused little crescents.

“I’m not trying to fuck your dad,” he giggles. “Holy shit. I’m just saying, like--”

“Don’t--”

“He’s a DILF.”

“Oh my god!” Taemin says loudly. A large number of actions run through his head; and he screams internally because he can’t do any of them. He can’t go tell Jinki to go away because he can’t tell him why he has to leave. He can’t even go ask Jinki for a real strong shot because he knows nothing under, like, seven will make him forget anything and he already has a headache. He can’t just fucking leave, because he can’t do that to Jonghyun even when he’s being so incredibly awful right now. Obviously he can’t tell Jonghyun to quit being a gremlin, because every time he’s done so so far Jonghyun has just said something worse.

In the end, he settles for downing his entire daiquiri, slushy ice and all, and struggles to swallow it all quickly. Then he groans and puts his head on the table and wills the brain freeze to numb his whole body until next week so he doesn’t have to listen to Jonghyun talk about Jinki anymore.

All it does is make his head hurt and he groans more for dramatic effect. Soon he feels Jonghyun draping over him, body shaking with giggles, breath warm behind his ear. Jonghyun doesn’t even say anything; he just laughs, hands little and grabby around his waist. Taemin grumbles in the back of his throat and rubs his hands through his hair, suffering greatly until his brain freeze goes away, and then only suffering slightly less.

“If I let you blow me will you stop talking about how hot Jinki is?” he asks. Jonghyun laughs more and noses a smile into his neck.

“I don’t want you to let me blow you,” he says, and somehow, despite him being a horrible horrible goblin, despite his smile still wide against Taemin’s skin, somehow, he manages to sound pouty. “I wanna blow you when you want me to blow you.”

Well, isn’t that so soft and considerate. Taemin grumbles and lifts his head just to pillow his arms under it.

“I probably wouldn’t be able to get a boner anyway,” he mutters. Not with him trying so hard to not think about Jinki. He shifts to nudge Jonghyun with his shoulder. “Go get me a strawberry shake,” he demands. He knows they’re not on the menu but he also knows that Jonghyun can get away with it. Jonghyun snorts and wiggles off of him.

“Sure, I’ll go ask Jinki for some mega milk,” he says. Taemin sighs loudly and pulls his jacket collar over his head.

5 Jonghyun practically vibrates out of the insurance office of the car dealership. His hands grip the keys of his new motorcycle so hard his knuckles are white and his grin is splitting open his face. Taemin feels his own smile fuzzing up his insides as he lets Jonghyun cling to his elbow as the salesperson escorts them outside. He feels like if he wasn’t there for Jonghyun to hold on to he would vibrate into a puddle of happy goo on the floor.

As it is, he melts into a puddle of happy goo on his new power cruiser, sitting on it and then just laying over the dash, cheek against the dash, arms hanging over the handlebars. Taemin sits lazily sidesaddle on his own bike in the spot next to him, reaching out to poke Jonghyun’s leg with his foot.

“Happy?” he asks, and almost experiences an emotion in public when Jonghyun looks at him with stars in his eyes. He wants to hurry up and get home so he can be happy and excited for his boyfriend in peace, but he also knows that Jonghyun needs time to just sit here and appreciate having a bike of his very own. He’s waited, like, thirty-six years for it. “You’re getting breath fog on your screen,” Taemin says, pointing lazily.

“Hmm? Fuck.” Jonghyun sits up quickly, sucking his hand into his sleeve and rubbing away his breath. Then he just runs his hands over the dash, over the metal, over the handlebars, grips them his hands and bites his lip hard. “Fuck,” he says again, just as articulate as the first time Taemin ever let him touch his own cruiser. He takes his hands from the handlebars and instead puts them over his own face, kicking his feet quickly on the ground. Taemin fakes a yawn into his hand to hide his smile.

Jonghyun takes a few minutes to collect himself, in which Taemin closes his eyes and lets the wind tousle his hair and the sun warm his face. Eventually he hears Jonghyun sucking in one of his deep, steadying breaths and opens his eyes to watch. Jonghyun rubs his cheeks, runs his fingers through his hair a lot, paps his hands all over his bike’s dash, and then turn his bright eyes to Taemin again.

“Helmet,” he says, making grabby hands at the bag of Taemin’s bike. Taemin snorts, enamored. Not even a full sentence. He slides off of his bike and grabs Jonghyun’s helmet from his bag. It’s his old one with the dark green stripes; Taemin wishes he had someone else around to bet that Jonghyun will go out and get a new one soon that matches his bike’s pink and red. Turning around, he almost experiences an emotion again again when he sees that Jonghyun is pouting now, pouting and wiggling his fingers like he’s upset that it’s taking Taemin so long to give him his helmet.

“Hey,” he says quietly. He steps forward and presses the helmet into Jonghyun’s hands, but holds it still so Jonghyun can’t put it on just yet. Stepping even closer, he glances around the parking lot to make sure no one’s around before he leans in and presses a soft kiss to Jonghyun’s mouth. “You’re really cute,” he murmurs into the air between them.

“Ooohhh my gosh,” Jonghyun whispers. He hangs his helmet on one of his handlebars and puts his face back into his hands. Taemin laughs incredulously at the ground. Whoops. He leans carefully against Jonghyun’s other handlebar and pats his hand pleasantly on Jonghyun’s knee while he waits for a second time.

When Jonghyun gathers himself up next it’s with another one of his big breaths. This time he takes Taemin’s hand in his and kisses it himself, smiling against his fingers. Taemin gently squishes his bottom lip.

“Can we go get food somewhere?” Jonghyun asks. Taemin tilts his head, confused.

“I thought we were going home so you could fawn over your bike and I could be excited and everything,” he says. Jonghyun whines and wiggles his hand.

“Yeah, but,” he says. “I’m so. I’m too.” He looks down at his bike again and smiles wide, bites his lip, paps his hands all over it. “Fuck,” he breathes heavily. Taemin shakes his head fondly, but nods right after. Alright, yeah, good point. “Can we go find a diner with outdoor seats?” he asks. Taemin snorts, backing up to get on his bike.

“Why, so you can keep looking at your bike while we eat?” he teases.

“Yeah,” Jonghyun says. Taemin hides his laugh in his own helmet, tugging it over his head. He’s so fucking cute, all the time.

“Let’s go, kid,” he hums, getting settled on his bike and jamming his key into the ignition.

Jonghyun pinks at the nickname and puts his face in his hands again, and they sit there in the parking lot for another couple of minutes.

#jongtae #jonghyun #taemin #jinki #biker au #fluff #pg #im lov. biker au bubs #jongtae bickering about bike repair.... like either of them know what theyre doing.... important #jinki being casually smug about helping them.... also important #Jinki Being Hot #Extremely Important #taem wanted to mumble about that one time they had a big argument and to explain what his problem was #bc they never actually talked about it lmao #jong doesnt remember it but it bugs taem sometimes bc hes just Like That (tm)#i was gonna write that part but then i liked them just bein sleepie instead more #i was also gonna write. a Completely different biker au #i was gonna write five times they woke up together #but i opened the doc for the first time in over a year and the first thing was '''succ''' taemin says #so like. obviously i had to finish that even tho i had no recollection of writing it in the first place #also taem. 33. calling jonghyun. 36. Kid. is also v important

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the-shipping-machine · 5 years

Text

Big brother

summary: You’ve heard of big brother Redd and little brother Smiles, now get ready for Big brother Hot and little brother Money.

A/N: In this AU they can age.

The nine-year-old Mr. Money sat in a locked tiny room in one of the world’s biggest office buildings. He was about the be traded again. He was scared. He never wanted to live a life of a property, especially at the young age of nine. He sat there, facing the wall, hugging his knees and crying. These rich people are bad, and he was forced to be with them.

He expected the door to be opened at any minute. He expected one of those rich scumbags to pull him aggressively and yelling at him, or humiliating him in much worse ways. It was always like that.

What he didn’t expect were gunshots and screams.

“Where is he?” he heard a familiar voice of a young child with a soft Italian accent, yelling angrily at one of the people.

“Why should we tell you?!” one of the rich people yelled with a shaking voice.

Money didn’t want to listen. He covered his ears, continuing to sob as the yellings kept going. Then finally, a few gunshots were heard before the door was busted open, and Money felt someone touching his shoulder.

Terrified of who that might be, he began to scream and fight the hands holding him, before realizing who that was.

“Money, it’s okay.” his 13 years old brother, Mr. Hot, told him in a soft voice as he was pulling him into a tight hug. “It’s me.”

“H-Hot... I...” the nine years old said before bursting into tears. He cried onto his brother’s shoulder as the older one picked him up from the ground.

“I know, little guy.” Hot said, holding his brother in one hand and the gun in the other. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Hot ran all the way to the first floor as his little brother closed his eyes so he won’t have to look at the dead bodies. They got out of the building, where two of their older siblings, Mr. Shapey and Mr. Moon, were waiting for them in a silver fiat.

The two of them got into the back seat and Shapey drove the car away.

“Money, you alright?” Shapey asked.

“I... I don’t know...” Money said in a broken voice, shaking in his seat.

It was hard for Hot to see his little brother being this terrified and shaken. He pulled out a green dragonsnail out of his backpack and handed it to the child, who stared at it with shining eyes.

“You always told me you want a dragonsnail.” Mr. Hot told him, giving him a warm smile. “Got you one in green. I know you like that color, so... yeah.”

“T-thanks.” Money smiled a little bit as he held the winged snail.

“Hot, don’t tell me you shot people.” Mr. Moon said. “And if you did, please tell me there are at least a few bullets left.”

“Ah...” Hot said as he checked his gun. “No. No bullets left.”

“WHAT?!” Moon yelled as Shapey tried to hold his laughter and failed.

“It’s not my fault they were more than one guy!” Hot said. “Plus, I said I’d do what it takes to rescue Money and bring him home.”

“Home?” Money asked. fear was felt in his voice. “T-to dad? He’d put me on the market again and-”

“Relax!” Shapey said, cutting him off. “I got a big house for all of us. Far from Wondertainment.”

“How did you guys pay for it?” Mr. Money asked.

“There are some things you’ll never know the answer to.” Mr. Moon giggled.

“We used Wondertainment’s credit card.” Mr. Hot said. “He’s gonna pay our bills.”

“What if he’ll find us?” Money asked, allowing his new pet to climb onto his shoulder. “He’d get us separated again!”

“It’s gonna take a while for him to figure it out, Mon.” Hot said. “Right now you don’t have to worry about it. Okay?”

“Hey, Hot?” Mr. Money asked. It was the middle of the night.

“You’re still having nightmares about being put back into the market again?” Mr. Hot asked his 14 years old brother.

Mr. Money nodded.

“It’s been four years since you rescued me.” Money said. “But... I don’t know if we’re still safe.”

“Mon, if something happens, I promise I’d protect you.” Hot yawned.

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Mr. Money said. “I’d feel safer. And Rodney has grown so we don’t have much space for the two of us on that bed.”

Mr. Hot looked at the sleeping green Dragonsnail. He was a lot bigger than he was on the day he gave him to Money. Rodney was almost as big as a male Boxer dog.

“Sure.” Hot said, moving a bit to the side so Money can have his space.

The smaller one got under the cover, still shaking from that dream.

“It was that bad?” Hot asked. “Want to talk about it?”

“H-he killed you...” Money said. “And it was my fault... I couldn’t do anything...”

Hot hugged him, assuring him it was just a nightmare.

“I’m still here.” Hot whispered, looking into his sobbing brother’s eyes. “I’m not done with his world yet.”

He hugged his brother until the small one finally fell asleep in his arms. His dark brown hair laid softly on his forehead and his tiny movements in his sleep didn’t bother Hot at all. He felt like a mother bear, looking over her sleeping cub.

And with the calm of her cub’s safety, the momther bear fell asleep.

Four years later, Brass came home with bad news. The news Money was scared to hear.

“Wondertainment...” Brass said in panic, quickly closing the door behind him. “He found us! Dad just fucking found us!”

“We gotta leave.” Mr. Shapey said.

“He’s gonna take me back to the market...” 18 years old Money said, shivering with tears in his eyes.

“He won’t.” Hot said, coking his gun. “Mad, Shapey, Sweetie and I will fight him off. Go with the rest.”

“But-” Money said, looking at his brother in terror.

“I said go, Money,” Hot said, as Wondertainment began to bang on the other side of the door. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Money was quiet for a few seconds, before pulling his older brother into a hug.

“Just...be careful, okay?” Money asked.

“I’ll try.” Hot answered. “Be careful as well.”

They were already at their hideout. Money walked back and fourth, waiting for Hot to return in one piece, as Rodney was crawling beside him. He was worried more than ever, and his heart was beating faster with each minute pass.

Two hourse later, Sweetie and Shapey entered.

“Where’s Hot?” Money asked as soon as the went through the door.

“With Mad.” Sweetie said.

Money looked behind them and saw one of his biggest fears coming true. Mad carried the unconscious and bleeding man.

“Hot has been shot.” Shapey said. “He’s not dead, but he got injured pretty ba-”

“Hot!” Money cut him off and ran over to the other two siblings. Mad looked at him with a sad expression.

“He’s gonna be okay. Didn’t lose too much blood.” Mad said. “He passed out from the pain.”

“How did it happen?” Money asked, looking at the bullet hole that was a centimeter close to Mr. Hot’s mechanical heart.

“Let’s just say, Wondertainment mannaged to trigger him.” Mad said. “He said something about sending you back to the market, and Hot just charged at him.”

“So...it’s my fault...” Money said, staring at the ground with tears in his eyes.

“No, it’s not-” Mad tried to calm him down, but Money ran crying to his new room before he could finish the sentence.

Mr. Hot opened his eyes, no longer feeling the pain in his chest.

The first thing he saw was Mr. Brass giving him a water bottle.

“G’morning, princess.” Brass said. “You finally woke up.”

“How long have I been like this?” Hot asked.

“Three months.” Brass answered as he assisted the man to get out of the bed. “Now Sweetie owes me money. She thought you were a goner.”

“How’s Money doing?” Hot asked.

Brass fell silent.

“Brass, how’s Money doing?” Hot asked again, this time in an annoyed tone.

“Not great,” Brass asked. “He... he blames himself for your injuries. He barely gets out of his room...barely sleeping or eating anything... One time even caught him trying to set himself on fire.”

“Where is he now?” Hot asked, worried as hell.

“Guess.” Brass answered.

Hot walked as quick as he could across the building until he finally found Mr. Money’s room, and that was thanks to the green Dragonasnail looking at Hot with a sad look. Even Rodney was worried about Money, huh?

He entered the dark room, where he saw his sobbing brother sitting on the bed and covered with a blanket. His hair was a mess, and the dark bags under his eyes grew bigger. He truly wasn’t doing well.

Hot sat on the bed. Money didn’t even bother to look.

“Go away, Shapey.” Money mumbled. “Just leave.”

“Who said it was Shapey?” Hot said, giving him a soft smile.

Money quickly turned to look at his older brother, eyes wide open and tears beginning to form.

“H-Hot... You’re okay!” Money said, surprised and relieved at the same time. “S-Sweetie said you’re a goner! I...”

Hot quickly pulled him into a hug, allowing the small one to sob onto his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.” Money sobbed. “I-I didn’t want you to get hurt because of my nightmares... I-”

“It’s not your fault, Mon.” Hot said. “He might have said that thing about you, but I was the one who charged at him. Not you.”

“But...” Money said.

“No ‘but’, Money.” Hot said. “You don’t have to destroy yourself over something I did. I know I was hurt and I made you worried, but I want to help you.”

“I know.” Money said. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re apologizing too much.” Hot giggled.

“Sorry-” Money began to say, but realized he’s just apologizing again. “Frick.”

The two of them burst into laughter, and it was just like the good old days.

Momma bear is back in town.

#money is legally isn't allowed to slur #little misters #scp #don't tag as ship/kin

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sassycassieshipsimaginesprefs · 6 years

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Mermaid/Man/Person AU Ideas

Some are romantic, some are platonic, some could be both!

-“I’m a relatively new employee at the local supermarket when I hear that there is a cleanup on aisle 14, one of the refrigerated sections. I plod on over with a mop and a plucky attitude and---OH MY WORD THERE IS A SOPPING WET MERMAID/MAN/PERSON ON THE FLOOR WHAT DO I DO THIS WASN’T COVERED IN TRAINING OR MY JOB DESCRIPTION! Turns out, you’ve been human-passing for years but some idiot spilled their water bottle on you” AU

-“You’re half-mermaid and going to college, living in the dorms on campus. You’ve been singing Mamma Mia in the shower quietly and showering at 3AM so you won’t enchant anyone with your voice and you only shower at a normal time when you don’t feel like singing. One night I get off work late and shower at 3AM too in the other set of shower but hear you anyway. I think I’m technically immune to your mermaid magic powers but frick I’m not immune to the fact that you have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. Who are you?!” AU

-“We’re both in marine biology class because we want to clean the ocean pollution and I’m the only one who is more passionate than you and you can’t figure out why I act like ocean pollution is personal ‘til you’re scuba diving and come across me underwater and see my tail. I scream and swim away and refuse to talk to you in class” AU

-“What do you mean I can’t audition for [insert _______’s Got Talent/other show/some musical] because I’m half-mermaid? I can’t enchant people---oh shoot well now I’ve tried to prove that and proved the exact opposite and you’re declaring undying love for me. Please stop you don’t really mean what you’re saying how do I undo this hELP” AU

-“I automatically transform into a mermaid during the full moon, equinoxes, eclipses, and solstices. My significant other doesn’t know and invites me to a pool party on the summer solstice. The sun goes down WAY late and I transform, falling into the pool and that’s how my S/O finds out. Please don’t be mad?” AU

-“My S/O just broke up with me because they found out I’m a mer and thought I’d been enchanting them to be in love with me (I wasn’t). You find me and comfort me and I tell you everything and yeah I’d like to join you for dinner to cheer me up. Thank you so much!” AU

-“I unintentionally enchanted this entire karaoke bar with my voice because of my mermaid genetics and you just came in to see every single person staring mooney-eyed at me and help me get away before anything happens” AU

-“You’re asexual and/or aromantic and believe that you’re immune to mermaids’ and sirens’ songs so you’re plodding around your ship while the rest of the crew has earplugs to block us out but we, the mermaids and sirens, sing about whatever it is you want most and it adapts magically. I am really confused as you jump off the side of the ship because why in Poseidon’s name are we singing about pizza?! Oh wait hey you’re cute like a baby fish I don’t want to drown you” AU

-“You’re the lead singer in a band called Shrieking Sirens (or something) and have a mermaid aesthetic going on. I’m a big fan of your music but one night when I’m drunk/sleep deprived I manage to email you/your manager/your publicist an angry, typo-ridden email about how sirens are bird-ladies not mermaids. You email me back with a ‘We know :)’ and when I’m sober/well-rested I’m really embarrassed but you thought it was hilarious. We started emailing and I find out that you’re all mermaids passing as humans and trying to slightly steer it away from being suspicious with the siren name” AU

-“As if our romance wasn’t forbidden enough because I’m a mermaid and you’re human, you’re actually a dragon disguised as a human because dragons were sick of being persecuted by humans and oh CRAP if my pod ever found out I’d be kicked out for sure” AU

-“What do you mean the dragons aren’t staying in hiding anymore?! They’re going to expose US too!” AU

-“I’m out for a late-night swim in the ocean because I’m hardcore (read: reckless) like that and you’re a mermaid with the fluke of your tail caught in a crab trap and I found you underwater and got your fin out of the trap but it was bleeding and torn and made it hard to swim so I took you home and fixed you up and now you’re recovering in my bathtub?” AU

-“You’re a marine veterinarian and I’m gravely injured after I got attacked by a pod of aggressive orcas/other marine life but you’re out on a rowboat and I’m floating near the surface and you see the blood in the water and manage to pull me into the boat and get me to shore before the sharks come after the blood and you rehabilitate me at your facility in secret because, hey, mermaids aren’t supposed to exist but thank you” AU

-“I got trapped in a rather deep tide pool when the tide went out. Hey you! Yeah you! Strong-looking human! You mind picking me up and hauling me into the ocean? Please? I will reward you with a pearl or something!” AU

-“I grew up in a landlocked area but me and my family just moved to a town on the ocean and I got to swim in the sea for the first time and AAAAAHHHHH! WHAT THE HECK?! WHAT HAPPENED TO MY LEGS? WHY DO I HAVE A TAIL?! And you, a native mer, heard me screaming underwater in the language mers use to communicate and came to see if I was okay and I freak out even worse and you use your singing magic to lull me to sleep and I wake up in an abandoned cove and you’re lounging on the sand next to me and I’m still freaking out but my legs are back and you ask me lots of questions and Look Buddy, I got nothin’.” AU

-“I’m a curious mer hiding under a dock and watching a group of human friends goofing around through the wood and one of your friends pushes you off the end of the dock and into the water and Oh NO! it looks like you can’t swim very well! I should help! But it’s forbidden...” AU

-“You found yourself in an enchanted forest, somehow, and when you make it to a lake, you find me perched on a rock, my tail dangling into the magic lake, talking pleasantly to a unicorn and now you’re positive you’re dreaming and I dunno what to tell ya, mate” AU

-“I’ve been human-passing for years until yoU SPILLED YOUR WATER BOTTLE ALL OVER ME! WHAT THE HECK?!” AU

-“Okay, listen human, the ocean is terrifying and full of creepy/scary stuff. Don’t EVEN judge me for deciding to live on land!” AU

-“I was adopted by human parents when they found me in the sea foam with a little tail that hadn’t even taken on a color yet but turned to legs when I was dry. Turned out they also adopted other abandoned supernatural creatures so I have a werewolf sibling, a vampire sibling, a changeling sibling and their human ‘twin’ and... let’s just say when I brought you home to meet my family you were... very confused to say the least” AU

-“Oh shoot my roommate’s Significant Other is a mer who was singing a love song for my roommate and I fell in love why are mers like this?” AU

-“There was a storm while I was out on a boat and I got knocked overboard and I woke up to you swimming me back to shore and your tail brushes my legs and wHAT THE HECK?! WHY ARE YOUR LEGS SO SLIMY?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T HAVE LEGS?” AU

-“A kiss from a mermaid can keep a person from drowning. But apparently the kiss does that by traNSFORMING WHOEVER WAS KISSED INTO A MER IN THE WATER! And apparently I kissed a mer recently because whAT ON EARTH IS HAPPENING TO ME?! WHO WAS IT THAT I KISSED?” AU

-“I promise my tail looks heavy on land but it’s really graceful and strong underwater. Stop complaining it doesn’t actually weigh two-tons” AU

-“Sometimes humans lose their glasses in the water and they always end up in the mer community and I can’t see underwater for the life of me because everything is blurry and one day my friend, who is also something of my seeing-eye friend, finds some in the sand and puts them on me and OH MY GOODNESS SAND HAS INDIVIDUAL GRAINS?! I have visible scales?! I CAN SEE!?” AU

-“I MAY BE THE MOST PETITE MERMAID YOU’VE EVER SEEN BUT I WILL STILL SINK YOUR WHOLE SHIP, JERK!” AU

-“You have wings and I have a tail. We met by accident/chance and we’re deeply in love but there’s no way we can be together. I’m aquatic and you’re avian. Land is the literal middle ground of us to meet but it’s hard for me to be out of the water and you can’t swim without your wings dragging you down” AU

-“I run a cute cafe/coffee shop/bakery right by the beach. I see mermaids in the water all the time, but no one else ever seems to notice?” AU

-“The local children’s hospital buses the kids who are well enough to the beach every so often where I get there first and pretend to be a mermaid to entertain them---I sing and tell stories. One day you wash up on the shore next to me after they leave but you’re real what the heck?!” AU

-“I’m a single parent and my mermaid-obsessed child(ren) swear up and down they saw a mermaid in the water and I pretend to be interested but my kid(s) can sense I don’t believe them so they rush in to prove it to me and get caught in a riptide before I can get to them. You appear out of nowhere and save them but vanish before I can thank you. Who were you? I spend the next week(s) visiting the beach as often as I can to see if I can find you again. One night I swim out a ways and there you are---now what do I do?” AU

-“I’m dating a mer and somehow we ended up married by mermaid culture customs but not human and... what do???” AU

-“A hurricane scooped you up out of the ocean and flung you inland and thank the heavens you landed in my swimming pool but I didn’t know mermaids existed and screamed” AU

-“Me and my mermaid choir squad are out on some rocks/tiny abandoned island singing for choir practice and you’re sailing nearby with a buddy and hear us. But when we sing and a person ‘falls in love’ they try to impress us so you’ve joined in with our song singing baritone and we drop the magic of the song completely. Get over here we haven’t had a baritone sing with us in ages no we’re not going to drown you just get over here!” AU

#trigger warning: blood #mermaid #mermaid imagine #mermaid AU #mermaid!AU #AU prompts #AU Prompt #AU List #writing prompt #writing prompts

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worryinglyinnocent · 6 years

Text

Worry Watches OUAT S7 Part 3: “I’VE LOST TRACK OF ALL THE VILLAINS!!”

All righty then. I’ve got time to watch more episodes tonight but I’m just a tiny bit fatigued. I’m enjoying it, I honestly am, but we’re into storylines and characters that I’m just not all that into. Next episode’s a Zelena centric and I’m just not sure I’ve got the fortitude for that right now, and I’m not a big fan of this whole Hansel thing.

It’s a classic OUAT mistake at the moment. Come on guys, I thought we were past this! You’ve been really good this season, I mean, apart from all the really gratuitous Disney references but that’s beside the point.

YOU HAVE TOO MANY VILLAINS AND I HAVE LOST TRACK!!!

We’ve got Nick/Jack/Hansel/whoever-the-fuck-he-is who’s out to kill all the witches, we’ve got Samdi who wants Rumpel’s dagger for reasons as yet still unknown, and we’ve got Gothel who... fuck knows, I still can’t figure her out but she obviously wants to be here for some reason.

PICK ONE. I CANNOT KEEP TRACK OF ALL THESE THREADS.

Ahem, ok, rant over. I love Sabine and I love the little flirtation between her and Rogers. I ship it.

Also Tilly-Alice/Margot-Robyn. I am rooting for them all the way! *gets out pompoms*

The bits that I’m enjoying, I’m really enjoying. I’m loving the slow-burn between Henry and Jacinda because it feels so much more realistic than your normal true love story where everything’s perfect and wonderful all the time. This is the real world and these are real world challenges that they’re facing; it’s not really magic that’s pulling and pushing at them as it is each other and the other people around them. They’re making mistakes and they’re screwing up and trying to get better and it seems just such a human, normal romance that’s not plain sailing. I also like that Jacinda is not your average normal perfect heroine princess - she screws up and makes bad decisions under pressure, she’s not presented as perfect, but just as a person.

I do love the fact that apparently Rogers (or anyone else for that matter) hasn’t noticed that Weaver’s accent has changed from broad London to slightly husky soft Scottish within the space of a couple of weeks. Did anyone else notice that? I think he made the permanent change somewhere around episode 7. Did Bobby just give up on the new accent and decided that Gold’s regular one was better or what? I can understand that it goes hand in hand with him waking up after Tilly shot him, but he was still using the Weaver accent with Rogers for a couple of episodes after he woke up.

Enough of that. I just noticed it immediately because I find the Weaver accent really jarring - I’m happy the Gold accent is back on a permanent basis.

This timeline really doesn’t make any sense. WHY NOT JUST CALL STORYBROOKE, YOU LOONS? WHOLE TOWN FULL OF MAGIC TO HELP YOU OUT THERE! YOU NEED MAGIC? IT’S RIGHT THERE IN THE MIDDLE OF FRICKING MAINE JUST GET ON A DAMN PLANE!

It’s not even like HH has the same ‘no-one can leave’ vibe going on because Henry and Regina went to San Francisco for heaven’s sake!

I know Regina said they couldn’t call SB, but for the love of God, whyever not??

All right, enough ranting for one evening. I have six episodes left to watch and my brain is very, very confused... I’mma just sit here in my corner waiting for Tilly/Margot scenes.

#Worry watches OUAT season 7

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searchforthescars · 6 years

Note

Um if you want to write in little beast verse about Murphy telling Raven he's gonna propose and then have shipper!raven freak out, and like go ring shopping with him or smth (and either be very helpful or extremely unhelpful)...I would read it

Good thing you’d read it bc I wrote it :)))))

Enjoy the heck out of this!

When Raven gets a text from Murphy instructing her to meet him at the diner, her heart nearly jumps out of her chest, mostly because she already knows what this is about.

“You can’t be sure!” Monty shouts from the lab’s tiny kitchen, the only spot in the entire building that food can safely be consumed. “Maybe it’s about something else.”

“It’s not,” Raven says, positively giddy. “I know it! It’s finally time!”

Monty rolls his eyes affectionately, throwing a roll of paper towels at her as she hustles out the door.

When she makes it to the diner, she’s delighted to see both Murphy’s car and Zeke’s shitty bike parked near the front door. Good. She can kill two birds with one stone: disconcert the new mechanic in town and screw with her best friend.

When the little bell over the door rings, Raven sees Zeke’s eyes widen and his cheeks turn a little pink. Yes. Good.

“Morning, Raven,” Octavia says from the corner booth, waving. “Who are you terrorizing today?”

“Sometimes I come here for food, you know,” Raven replies.

“Today is not one of those days, I assume,” Zeke says. “You wear a distinct expression when you’re hungry, and you don’t have that face on today.”

Raven’s original plan to screw with Zeke flies out the window in the face of his strangely-perceptive observation. She blinks at him for a couple minutes, then turns to the counter.

“You two are disgusting,” she informs Murphy as he leans over to peck Emori on the lips. “People eat here.”

Murphy rolls his eyes. Emori gives Raven the middle finger.

“You’re going to the lab, right?” Raven asks her newest employee. When Emori nods, Raven gives her a thumbs-up. “Just a note, Monty’s up to his no-explosives-at-the-desks bullshit again, so whatever you do, don’t open my bottom drawer.”

“Noted.” Emori gives Murphy a little wave goodbye. Raven starts snickering as Murphy watches her walk away.

“You’re shameless, J,” she tells him, hopping up on a counter stool.

He shrugs. “She’s cute. Sue me.”

“Cute,” Raven mocks. “What is this, high school?”

“Are you going to mock me, or help me?”

“Preferably, both,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Now, are you going to ask me what I think you’re going to ask me?”

“I want to propose to-” Murphy’s whisper is cut off by a loud yelp of joy from Raven. “Damn, would you let me finish?”

“I knew it!” Raven crows. “I knew it!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, shut up,” Murphy grumbles. “Listen-”

“You’re finally proposing!” Raven squeals, then sobers. “Okay. I’m ready. Talk.”

Murphy sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I need help finding a ring.” When Raven’s grin widens, he points at her. “Chill, Reyes. I want something small, something that fits her.”

Raven’s grin fades only slightly as the gravity of the situation settles over her. “Got it,” she nods. “But, J, she doesn’t exactly have a left ring finger.”

Murphy’s brow furrows. “I know. And I don’t want to make her feel bad about her hand. She’s gotten way better about it and I don’t want to fuck that up.”

Raven wishes that Finn would have taught her some metalworking. That might have come in handy right about now. “You could get one and put it on a chain,” she suggests. “She could wear it around her neck instead of on her hand.”

“Would you do that?” Murphy asks, and Raven has an epiphany that makes her feel way better about the whole situation.

“Yeah, actually. She’d have to take a ring off at the lab, anyway. This way, she doesn’t have to.”

The relief in Murphy’s eyes is palpable. “Okay.” He sighs. “You’re still helping me pick one, you know.”

Raven nearly hops in her seat with excitement. “Obviously. You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

“Where does Emori think you are, anyway?” Raven asks Murphy as they cruise out of town in her newly-rebuilt SUV, the crisp fall air flowing in through the open windows.

“She knows I’m going out with you,” he says, reaching for his phone and thumbing through his camera roll. “She didn’t ask; she figures it’s just best friend stuff.”

“Nah,” Raven grins. “It’s best man stuff.” She turns to look at him. “I am your best man, right?”

“Eyes on the road!” Murphy yelps. Once Raven turns away, he answers, “Yeah, obviously. Who else would it be if she says yes?”

“If?” Mercifully, she doesn’t look away from the highway again, but Murphy can see the incredulous expression written all over her face. “You’re an idiot, J.” She says it with love. “Of course she’ll say yes. You’ve been dating and living together for years.”

“I know,” Murphy says, anxiety boiling in his stomach. He has a suspicion that emotion would come to make a home there over the next couple months. “I just… What if she doesn’t want commitment?”

“Oh, she does.” Raven nods sagely. “I’m her friend, too, you know.” She raises a finger. “And don’t ask me to be a double agent. No fricking way.”

Murphy laughs. “Wasn’t going to.”

“Seriously, though.” Raven’s voice goes soft. “She really loves you, J. She wants to spend the rest of her life with you. The ring, the wedding and everything else is just an affirmation of that.”

“Hey,” Murphy says, half-joking, “want to write my vows for me? That’s some good shit.”

Raven snorts. “Hell no. You’re doing all that yourself. I have to focus on my best man toast. After all, it is my duty to roast you to kingdom come. And I’ve got a lot of material.”

Ring shopping with Raven wasn’t nearly as horrible as Murphy anticipated. Her commentary may be sarcastic, but he’s surprised to find that she’s actually pretty good at this. She knows what Emori likes well enough, he supposes, and she has an eye for the pretty and practical that he doesn’t.

“That’s nice,” she says, pointing to a thin silver band with a rope-like pattern weaving around it. “That’d look pretty around a chain.”

“It’s too shiny,” Murphy argues.

“J. Honey.” Raven shakes her head. “It has to have a little bit of shine. So it catches the light and people see it, you know? Even Emori will want to show it off.”

“Did you find what you’re looking for?”

Murphy looks up at the saleswoman. “Not yet. I’m trying to find an engagement ring for my girlfriend, but I want to put it on a chain since she can’t wear rings.”

The saleswoman thinks for a moment, then reaches for a small tray under the glass cases. “This is one of our engravable pieces,” she says, putting forth a small, gold band with three tiny diamonds inlaid in the center. “You could put an inscription on the inside of the band; she would be able to see it from where it hangs. It’s a little shiny, so she’d still have something to show off, like your friend said.”

Murphy turns it over in his hand, elbowing Raven in the side when she shares a conspiratorial grin with the saleswoman. He imagines it on a chain, resting against Emori’s skin, shimmering there. He imagines her playing with it while she talks, works, or thinks.

“Do you know what you’d put on the inside?” Raven asks softly.

All of a sudden, it comes to him: her words, whispered against his skin the night he fell in love with her. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

This was the ring. He was sure of it.

He holds the blue box carefully in his hands on the drive home. Next to him, Raven is practically vibrating with excitement.

“You’re getting engaged!” she shouts for the third time. “I can’t believe it! My little J is all grown up!”

“Shut up, Raven,” he says, but he’s laughing too, but mostly out of nerves. He’s going to do it. He’s going to ask her to marry him.

Holy shit.

“When are you going to do it?” Raven asks.

“Christmas.”

“You’re making me wait that long?!” Raven sighs dramatically. “That’s months away.”

“Only three. Calm down.” Murphy fiddles with the box. “I want all our friends there, but I don’t want to make it a thing. Just...make sure I get her name at the annual friend group gift exchange.”

Raven nods, sagely. “Consider it done.” She grins. “It’s part of being a best man.”

Murphy groans. “What are you going to do if Emori wants you as her maid of honor?”

“You picked me first,” Raven says. “She’ll have to make do with...Bellamy, or someone.”

Murphy can’t help but cringe. Raven cackles.

“What’s got you so excited?” Emori asks him that night as they make dinner. She’s at the sink, washing celery, and he’s spooning their soup into bowls. He made it out of rice, chicken and leftover pumpkin from the diner. They’re the only two out of everyone Murphy knows that like that concoction.

“Nothing,” Murphy says, reaching over to turn up the radio. They both like this song. “Just happy.”

Emori quirks an eyebrow at him. “You? Happy?” She gives him a teasing smile. “Something must be wrong.”

Murphy reaches for her left hand, leading her to duck under his arm in a slow twirl. “Just dance with me,” he says, spinning her again. Her feet shuffle clumsily on the tile before catching on the rhythm of the song.

“You know,” she murmurs, inching forward to rest her head on his chest. “I hope we get to live like this forever. You and me.”

Murphy kisses the top of her head and rests his chin there. “That’s the plan.”

She sighs happily. “Sure is.”

He thinks about the small box hidden inside one of his winter boots on the top shelf of his closet, that little thing that holds a small gold ring with six words printed in small script.

Thank you for saving my life.

He can’t wait to give it to her.

#little beast #memori #bombshellsandbluebells #maskingtapepoetree #thank u for waiting for this katie #i hope it was worth it <3 #sarcasticdebate

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supernatural-firstwatch · 6 years

Text

Season 6 Episode 9: Clap Your Hands If You Believe

Is this an episode about Tinkerbell?

LOOK!!! I JUST DISCOVERED HOW TO INSERT A KEEP READING TAB THING! I didn’t know it wasn’t automatic! (I did mention that I was new at this whole tumblr/blog thing, right? :P)

- I’m with her. Patrick! WTF are you doing? If you think there’s something out there in the middle of the crops, why are you going to go check it out by yourself? Don’t follow him! Aliens? Is this an X-Files episode? IT’S A CROP CIRCLE--- OMG THE SUPERNATURAL TITLE SEQUENCE ALA X-FILES YES PLEASE AND THANK YOU!!!! THE TRUTH IS IN THERE!!!

- WOOLSEY!!!!!!! FROM STARGATE ATLANTIS!!! Played by Robert Picardo, who in this episode is Wayne Whittaker Jr. and believes that Elwood, Indiana has become the center of extraterrestial activity (except that he knows that aliens are real because he’s been to Atlantis in the Pegasus Galaxy!)

- Man, Soulles Sam continues to be hilarious. He gives ZERO fucks toward anyone or anything. “You don’t care.” “Well...” “You have to care.” “About what, exactly?” “About everything, man. About being human, at least.” “Look, Dean, you obviously care a lot and that’s great. But... But I can’t care about what-- I can’t care, you know? What do you want me to do? Fake it?” “Yes. Absolutely. Fake it. Fake it till you make it.” “What happened to you wanting me to be all honest?” “Hey, you wanna be a real boy, Pinocchio, you gotta act the part.” “I was faking it. Ever since we got back on the road together, Dean. I was picking every fricking word. It’s exhausting.” “Okay. All right. But until we get you back on the soul train, I’ll be your conscience, okay?” “So you’re saying you’ll be my Jiminy Cricket.” “Shut up. But yeah, you freaking puppet. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!!!!!!!

- Wait, what? He just asked the watch if what he told Sam and Dean was all right. And the watch moved in response...

- Dean is gonna vanish. And Sam is going to be left to his own devices and have to make his own calls. And nothing about them are going to be judgment calls.

- HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! FUCK I LOVE ROBOSAM!!!! “Holy--- UFO! UFO!” “Oh, dude, stop yelling. You’re breaking up. I didn’t catch that last part.” “Closer encounter! Close encounter!” “Close encounter? What kind? First? Second?” “They’re after me!” “Third kind already. You better run. The fourth kind is a butt thing.” “Empathy, Sam! Empathy!” AND THEN HE ORDERED ANOTHER BEER!!!! AND DID NOTHING! LOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!!!!!!! OMG! He really gives no fucks about anyone or anything anymore.

- LOOOL!!!! “Your brother was abducted?” “Yeah.” Oh my God.” “It’s fine. I mean, I’ve had time to adjust,” “Did it happen when you were kids?” “No, like, half an hour ago.”

- Man, I am really good at recognizing faces. The red-haired girl that wants to help Sam find the UFOs was Molly in Psych from “Shawn Take a Shot in the Dark” (the girl he dialed accidentally instead of Gus and who he never called back because she refers to herself in the third person) :P It was her smile that looked familiar (it’s my favorite Psych episode).

- HEY! Dean’s back! Is Sam having sex with her? HE IS!!! LOOOOL!!!!!

- “Now, come on. Talk to me. What happened?” “Well, uh... There was this, uh... God help me, Sam, there was this bright white light.” *Sam puts his hand on Dean’s knee* “It’s okay. Safe room.” LOOOOOL!!! “I had a close encounter Sam. And I won.” “You should take a shower.” “I should take a shower. I’m gonna take a shower now.”

- OMG! ROBOSAM! I know I keep saying this, but he’s just so funny! “So, say you’ve got a soul and you’re on a case, and your brother gets abducted by aliens.” “Yeah, then you do everything to get him back.” “Right. You do. But, what about when there are no more leads for the night? I mean, are you supposed to just sit there in the dark and suffer even when there’s nothing that can done at that moment?” “Yeah! Yes.” “What?” “You sit in the dark and you feel the loss.” “Absolutely. But-- But couldn’t I just do all that and have sex with the hippie chick?” “No!” “It would be in the dark.” “No, you couldn’t because you would be suffering. And you can’t just turn that off for the night.”

- IT’S THE FAIRY! CRAZY CAT LADY WAS RIGHT! How did she know?? HE JUST KILLED IT BY PUTTING IT IN THE MICROWAVE! And it had nipples??? Dean thought the fairy was hot. PIZZA-ROLLED TINKERBELL!!!!

- It’s like Sedona, Arizona crapped in here. OMG!!!! IT’S TRUE!!! I’ve been to Sedona. It’s so pretty there. But Sam’s right :P :P

- IT’S TINY PEOPLE ALL OVER THE WATCHMAN’S STORE!! WORKING HIS SHOP! WHAT???

- Sam doesn’t remember how to do subtle. Going up to the dude and telling him that you know he has a bunch of elves working for him is likely not the way to go about this. Well, look at that. Sam is getting the guy to talk. A leprechaun?? Lucky Charms? So, Lucky Charms, in exchange for the workers, is going around town taking all the first borns?

- FIGHT THE FAIRIES!!!!! *as Dean is being arrested for assaulting a little person*

- WOOLSEY IS THE LEPRECHAUN!!! Fitting. AAAAAAH!!!! THIS IS PROBABLY WHY CROWLEY IS SO DESPERATE TO FIND PURGATORY! “Your soul is far away... But not completely out of reach.” “That so.” “Sam. I can get it back for you, for a price.” “That’s adorable. It’s locked in a box with the devil.” “Your devil. Not mine.” “There’s no freakking way a leprechaun can do what angels cannot.” “Angels. Oh, please. I’m talking about real magic, sonny. From my side of the fence. Got a way of getting in back doors.” If monsters and magic-folk have that kind of power where they can “get in the back way” into hell and, apparently, might in that sense be more powerful than angels, Crowley would be REAL INTERESTED in getting his hands on that kind of power.

- The problem with trying to lure Sam with the promise of getting his soul back is that, well... He doesn’t really care. About anything. Because he has no soul. So trying to entice him with favors and stuff? Doesn’t really work. It’s one of the things that makes him such a good hunter right now.

- What Sam needs is some salt or sugar to spill all over so that it’ll force Woolsey to count all the grains. LOOOL! “Why didn’t I do this earlier?”

I don’t think Sam is having second thoughts about getting his soul back. I just honestly don’t think he cares one way or the other. I think he wants to keep Dean because he can trust him implicitly, even if Dean doesn’t trust him. And he’ll just go along with Dean on the soul thing because it’s what Dean wants, not because he necessarily wants it back. But I don’t think he was lying at the end of the episode. I don’t think he was having second thoughts about getting his soul back. I just don’t think he ever really had a first thought in getting it back.

Question: Any preference for me using the “Keep reading” tab? Should I keep doing it? Should I keep these posting in long rambles?

#supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #season 6 #first time watching #robosam is fucking hilarious #fairies and leprechauns are real #and they're douches #no surprise there #dean had a close encounter of the third degree

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providentially-demonic · 7 years

Text

Trim: A Demon!Arthur AU Short

Well, being that chapter six is shaping up to have quite a bit of drama I promised to write myself something short and fluffy... (I failed, drama crept in and set up shop anyway.) So this is based loosely on this post by @ecto-rp. I say loosely because while it was meant to be funny something occurred to me during the writing and said drama moved in and brought it’s baggage. Thanks to @arthur-tristan-kingsmen for coming up with the idea to set it when it is and for helping me work it out.

Story-wise, this is set after the reunion, and when Lewis has admitted to his family that he’s still around.

Warning for a little bit of blood, some traumatic memories, and the littlest Pepper sister stepping up like a boss.

“Ffff... frick...” Arthur’s voice trailed off lamely.

Lewis recognized the guilty sound of Arthur’s voice even from the kitchen, where he was helping his parents make dinner. It meant Arthur had nearly cursed in front of one of the girls. Lewis stuck his head out of the kitchen door.

Arthur was curled over the small gadget he had been playing with most of the night, a sort of fidget device of his own making. He’d been so horribly nervous coming into town, even huddled in the windowless back of the van, he’d needed it to keep himself from freaking out. Even so, his wings had remained mantled around him, as if to hide from the world. Thankfully, having been warned what to expect, the Pepper’s had opened the loading dock where they took deliveries for the restaurant, and Lewis had simply backed the van in, keeping Arthur from being seen by anyone but the Pepper family, who had welcomed him with open affection and warm familial hugs. The honest affection had relaxed him enough to be coaxed into the family area, where all the window’s had been carefully curtained with heavy drapes.

Arthur had hung onto his little toy, mainly because it gave him something to do with his hands.

“Frak, frell, frag... pharfignewton...” Arthur was grumbling softly under his breath, peering sideways at Paprika, who was staring at him with undisguised curiosity.

“Pharfignewton doesn’t count,” Lewis chided with an indulgent smile. “That’s Pinky’s girlfriend, not one of your sci-fi imprecations. What’s wrong?”

Arthur’s wings lifted as if to shield him and his tail lashed like a nervous cat’s. “Give me a hand, would you?”

Lewis came out of the kitchen, absently wiping his hands with a dishtowel, though he could easily phase himself free of any clinging flour. He crouched beside his friend.

Arthur sheepishly held up his left hand, displaying his fidget toy firmly wedged onto one of his hooked claws. “I— I’m a little stuck. I can’t get it off.” He shook his hand, the tiny object going along with the motion, but otherwise not budging. Arthur scowled and tugged, but the hooked tip was very firmly jammed between two of what Arthur had termed fiddly bits. “Da— darn it, this is why I want to cut the stupid things off. They do nothing but annoy me and get in the way and now I’m stuck!”

“Hold still.” Lewis caught Arthur’s hand and examined where it was snagged. Concentrating, like Mystery had taught him, he placed his hand around the fidget toy and slowly phased it free. It had taken him awhile to get the hang of manipulating solid objects like this, but it was worth it to see the relief on Arthur’s face.

Arthur waggled his freed fingers with a sigh of relief. “Thanks, big guy.”

Lewis smiled and patted his shoulder. “Anytime, mi amigo.” He put the toy down on the table and stuck his head back in the kitchen. “Vivi, can you help Mama and Papa finish up? Arthur and I need to take care of something real quick.”

Vivi, who had been perched on a stool, regaling Cayenne and Belle, and incidentally, his parents, with the tale of how she had tracked Arthur and Lewis down, looked up at him and grinned impishly. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do backwards and on a bicycle.”

“Vivi!” Lewis scolded with a laugh, returning to where Arthur sat, warily letting Paprika smooth her tiny fingers over the thin skin of one wing. “C’mon.” He held out a hand to Arthur.

“Where are we going?” Arthur asked, but never hesitated in putting his hand In Lewis’s and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

“The upstairs bathroom.” Lewis led the way to the private entrance for the Pepper’s connected home. “Mama won’t mind if we borrow her nail clippers to trim your claws.”

Arthur’s smile was blinding. “About f—fricking time!”

Arthur started upstairs, but hesitated, looking back at Paprika. The youngest Pepper girl was close on his heels, nearly treading on Arthur’s tail. “Um, d-did you want to come with?”

Paprika nodded and held her arms out to Lewis, wanting, as always, to be picked up.

Lewis released Arthur’s hand and hoisted his sister up, seating her on his shoulder. Being the smallest of the children, she always wanted to be higher up than anyone else to be able to see what was going on so it never bothered him to oblige her.

Lewis ushered Arthur into the large master bath and seated him on the side of the tub. It was easier that way, since his tail tended to get in the way when sitting. He set Paprika up on the back of the toilet tank so she could see and dug for Mama’s manicure set. He chose the larger clippers after a moment of thought, because those nails looked awful thick and the smaller ones probably wouldn’t be able to handle opening far enough, much less cutting through the yellowish talons. “You want to do it?”

Arthur looked sideways at the clippers and then at his own hooked claws. “Nah, better not. My luck would be to get a claw stuck in there while trying to cut them.” He smiled enough to bare the tip of a delicate fang and offered his hand to Lewis.

Lewis sat down on the toilet and took Arthur’s hand, studying the claws closely. He decided to start with the pinky first, to see if he could cut through it. It was harder than he thought and he determined he’d best buy Mama a new pair after this because he was pretty sure this would dull the heck out of the edges. When he cut away the worst of the hook, he pulled out a file and smoothed the trimmed part. “Better?”

Arthur regarded the nail closely. “Better, but maybe a little shorter. I want to be able to use my hands.”

Lewis accepted Arthur’s outstretched hand and focused on the pinky nail again. Carefully, he cut it closer to the actual tip of Arthur’s finger.

Arthur yipped and jerked back, blood spattering Lewis’s hands.

“Arthur!” Terror filled Lewis. “Oh my god, are you okay? What did I do? You’re bleeding!”

Arthur was shaking his hand and indeed, tiny drops of crimson were spattering the pristine pink and white tiles of the bathroom.

Lewis felt the pulse of his locket speed with fear and grabbed for Arthur, his voice scaling higher in panic. “Oh, no! Oh god, I’m sorry! Hold still! I gotta stop the bleeding! Maybe Mama can bandage you up or do you need a doctor?! Oh, no, you’re going to need a doctor and—”

Arthur stilled, covering his bleeding hand with the other protectively. “Calm down, big guy, I’m fine.” He hissed a little under his breath. “C’mon, slow down. I’m okay; it’s not bad at all. I’ll be fine, just stop freaking out on me here.”

Lewis’s eyes fixed on the bright red blood trickling between the fingers of his other hand and his voice caught in his throat. The sight of that bright scarlet on green— Suddenly all he could see was Arthur after he’d been impaled, his blood pouring down the green-hued stone. Arthur with the massive hole right through him struggling to drag himself away from Lewis to protect him from the monster in his mind. His vision dimmed around the edges, every bit of his focus trapped in that red on Arthur’s skin.

Arthur grabbed a wad of toilet paper to stem the bleeding and looked worriedly up into Lewis’s fixed gaze. “Calm down, okay, Lewis—?”

Paprika climbed on the counter, papping Lewis’s nose with the flat of one hand. “Shh—”

She pulled open the medicine cabinet and dug around, her tiny hands coming out with a variety of things. She stood up and met Arthur’s gaze with her solemn pale lavender-pink eyes. “Hand.”

Arthur blinked and, after a moment, offered his wounded hand.

Lewis could only watch numbly as Paprika, the tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth and her tiny brow furrowed in concentration, peeled away the bloodied toilet paper to look at the bleeding tip of Arthur’s cut claw. She frowned and uncapped a small bottle with a brush in the cap. Soberly meeting Arthur’s eyes, she warned, “Owie.”

Arthur hissed between his teeth as she dabbed the liquid bandage on the cut tip of his claw.

Lewis stirred a little at the sound, his eyes coming back into focus.

Paprika reclosed the bottle and blew on Arthur’s hand until she was satisfied. Then she stuck a pink band-aid covered in yellow smiley faces over the claw and carefully pressed her lips over it in a kiss, looking up at Arthur searchingly. “Better?”

Arthur grinned at her, reaching out with his other hand to ruffle her hair. “Much, thank you, Paprika.”

She returned his smile and turned to put the bandages away when a knock on the door startled them all.

Lewis came out of his daze to steady his youngest sister, wobbling on the counter.

“Lewis?” Vivi’s voice came clearly through the closed door, underscored by concerned growls from Mystery. “We heard yelling... Is everything alright?”

Lewis’s mouth worked but he couldn’t force a sound out.

Arthur patted his shoulder. “We’re fine, Vivi.” He answered for Lewis and opened the door, flinching back from Mystery’s increased growling, but gamely gave her a smile. He waved his bandaged claw at her. “Promise. We were trying to cut my nails, to make it a little easier for me. We found out the hard way that they’re more like Mystery’s claws, with a vein in the middle. But it’s okay, Paprika was a hero and patched me up.”

The Pepper’s had crowded up behind her, concern in their faces. Arthur offered them a timid smile, urging Lewis forward to hand Paprika to their mother. “Everything’s okay,” he reassured them, his wings half-flared and his tail switching nervously behind him. “I promise. Why don’t you go down and finish getting dinner ready, we’ll be down in just a minute.”

Mrs. Pepper stared into his eyes for a long moment and then nodded firmly. Propping Paprika on one hip, she herded her family ahead of her and back toward the stairs, her hand on Mystery’s collar, forcing the dog along with her. Shaking slightly, Arthur turned toward Vivi. “I’m good, Vivi, I swear. Lewis on the other hand—”

Lewis made a choked sound, unable to look up. “I’m okay.”

Arthur thumped him with a hand, hissing as it jarred his cut claw. “Dude, don’t lie.”

Vivi stepped forward and cinched her arms around Lewis’s waist. “Was it another flashback?” she asked softly, pressing her face into his vest.

Lewis heaved a shuddering sigh and hunched over her. “I’m— I’m okay. It was just the blood. Every time I see it I— I remember.”

Vivi squeezed him tighter. “We’re all here, Lew-lew, you’re not alone anymore. Me and Arthur are here with you.”

She glanced up at Arthur and he joined the group hug, draping his wings tightly around Lewis, his tail snaking around Lewis’s thigh. “Hey, big guy, I’m okay. You’re okay and Vivi is right here. Your folks are right downstairs, and you are not alone. We’ll never let you be alone again.”

Lewis heaved another great sigh, sagging into their hold. “I know. I’m good, it just shook me.”

“You’re not good, big guy,” Arthur chided with a smile. “None of us are, but we’re getting there. Together.”

Lewis managed a wet-sounding laugh, wrapping one arm around Arthur’s waist. “Yeah. You’re right, buddy.”

“Of course I am,” Arthur chuckled. “I learned from the best.”

Vivi pulled away from the hug, scrubbing her damp lashes with one fist. “So what exactly were you doing up here?”

Arthur let his wings drop away and stepped back to let her free, though his tail still stayed firmly wrapped around Lewis's leg. “I told you, trying to trim these stupid things so I can actually use my hands like normal again” He waggled his clawed fingers in her face. “But they aren’t like normal fingernails.”

Vivi chuckled and caught his hand in hers. “Why didn’t you say something before now? You can use Mystery’s nail trimmer thingy! That would work much better than cutting them and you'd probably be able to file them to a reasonable length that way.”

Arthur looked scandalized. “I am not using his trimmer thing. That’s embarrassing. I am not a dog.”

“Neither is he and he doesn’t complain about it...” She tipped her head and looked thoughtful. “Well, he does, but then he complains about everything but food... and sometimes that too.”

“No,” Arthur looked mulish, folding his arms and tucking his hands under his biceps. “You can’t make me.”

“You did not just say that,” Vivi planted her hands on her hips. “It’s on, bucko. After dinner, you are getting a mani-pedi even if I have to get the Pepper’s to sit on you.”

“Oh, no... wait, you have it with you?”

Vivi grinned. “Oh yes, and you know what, I think I have some nail polish too... I think I’ll have the girls help me paint your nails too.”

Arthur’s eyes widened and he bolted, only to be brought to a screeching halt by his tail, still firmly attached to Lewis.

“You can’t run from me,” Vivi sing-songed. “Lewis, you get to sit on him if he doesn’t behave. We’re going to make you so pretty.”

Arthur squawked. “Vivi, no!”

“Vivi, yes... haven’t you learned by now, I always get my way?”

Lewis burst out laughing. Even though he saw the relieved looks pass between them, he didn't mind. They always had his back, even if it was making him laugh to take his mind off of bad memories.

#the Devil and the Dead #fanfiction #Demon!AU #demon!Arthur #ecto-rp #why brain?#All I wanted was some fluff!

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rendezvouswitharomance · 6 years

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Something to Howl About (Alphaville #0.5) by Christine Warren

Release Date: January 2, 2018

Book Review Here

Synopsis: WELCOME TO ALPHAVILLE, where the she-wolves and alpha-males play. . .for keeps, in a brand-new paranormal romance series from New York Times bestselling author Christine Warren.

Dr. Annie Cryer has been called many things: Genius. Child prodigy. Scientific wonder.

Wolf Shifter.

Banished from her pack years ago, Annie’s lone wolf wandering has brought her to Alpha, Washington, home to all shifters who don’t quite fit in in the “normal” shifter word. Now Annie has the chance to go back home…if only she can make good on a favor her alpha owes the mayor of “Alphaville.” But it’s not much of a favor when you’re helping the hottest shifter in town…

Grizzly shifter Jonas Browning has a clan in trouble. They haven’t had a child born in over a hundred years…and their clan faces going completely extinct. Genetic scientist Anne Cryer has been sent to help save them. But what Jonas doesn’t count on is being irresistibly drawn to the small wolf shifter, and his bear isn’t about to let her go…

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Baby, I’m Howling for You (Alphaville #1) by Christine Warren

Release Date: January 30, 2018

Book Review Here.

Synopsis: WELCOME TO ALPHAVILLE, where the she-wolves and alpha-males play. . .for keeps.

Renny Landry is a wolf on the run. Pursued by a shapeshifting stalker and his slobbering pack of killer coyotes, she is forced to flee her job as a librarian to find sanctuary in the wooded hills of Alpha, Washington. A well-secluded safe space for troubled shifters, Alpha is Renny’s last hope. But the first person she meets there is a gorgeous alpha male with fiery eyes, fierce tattoos, and one ferocious appetite—for her…

Mick Fischer thought he left his past behind when he moved to Alpha. But fate has a way of biting him in the tail when a female wolf shows up on his property. Wounded, desperate—and disarmingly hot—Renny brings out the snarling, protective alpha beast in Mick like no other woman he’s known. Can these two haunted, hunted wolves manage to mate for life…even as the deadliest past demons howl at their heels?

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Author Bio:

CHRISTINE WARREN is the bestselling author of The Others series, including Wolf at the Door, Big Bad Wolf, Born to Be Wild, Prince Charming Doesn’t Live Here, and Black Magic Woman. Born and raised in coastal New England, she now lives as a transplant in the Pacific Northwest. (She completely bypassed those states in the middle due to her phobia of being landlocked). When not writing, she enjoys horseback riding, playing with her pets, identifying dogs from photos of their underbellies, and most of all reading things someone else had to agonize over.

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SOMETHING TO HOWL ABOUT:

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BABY, I’M HOWLING FOR YOU

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Chapter One:

The valiant old Nissan ran out of gas thirteen miles short of her destination. Renny would ponder the irony of that number some other time. Right now, she needed to run, and run fast. She jumped from the car the minute it stopped moving, abandoning the vehicle on the shoulder of the two-lane highway. Before she reached the tree line, she was already tearing off her shirt, ignoring the chilly bite of the pre-spring March air. She threw the garment aside and immediately reached for the button of her jeans. She continued to hop forward as she struggled out of the confining denim, but the minute that last restriction fell away, she shifted. Fur replaced skin, arms became forelegs. Between desperate breaths, humanity slid away, and in the place of the panicked woman, a sleek red wolf began to weave through the trunks of the trees. Her claws dug through the lingering patches of wet, heavy snow and soft leaf litter to the soil of the forest floor, flinging small clumps of mud into the air in her wake. She needed to put as much distance as she could between herself and her pursuers. She might not have seen them on her tail from the highway, but it wouldn’t take much longer. They were the reason she hadn’t been able to stop for gas for the last couple of hours. They’d already chased her across two state lines and more than five hundred miles, and that was just this time. Somehow, she couldn’t picture them giving up now. She didn’t bother to think about what she’d left behind on the roadside. If the pack caught up to her, it wouldn’t matter whether or not someone ransacked her car and stole all of her worldly possessions. She didn’t think she’d need a good book or many changes of clothes in the afterlife. If there was such a thing. Frankly, Renny wasn’t all that anxious to find out. Keeping her head down and her feet moving, she continued to track north and west from the roadside, calling up the map in her head to guide her in the right direction. The last road sign she’d seen had put the Snoqualmie Pass about twenty-five miles northwest by the highway. Heading directly north instead should put the town center of her destination somewhere in that thirteen-mile range, so she had to keep running. Just a little farther. Alphaville, or die trying. The town of Alpha, Washington, had shimmered like a mirage on her horizon for years now. As a pup, she’d heard stories—everyone heard stories—of the northwestern town founded and run by shifters as a haven for those of their kind with nowhere else to go. Wolves driven from their packs, bears with injuries and scars inflicted by careless hunters, lions who couldn’t control their shifts, leopards who needed to change their spots—they all went to Alpha, and they all, eventually, got better. Surely a town like that could provide a safe haven to one small wolf with a teensy-tiny little stalker problem. Right? Please, Goddess, let her be right. Renny’s ears swiveled back and forth as she ran, their extra-large proportions helping to catch and funnel in the sounds of pursuit. And damn it, she thought she heard the first indications of it already. They’d found the car, and even if the muddy snow weren’t perfect for holding tracks, they knew she would have fled into the forest. That was what wolves did, after all. She poured on another burst of speed, paws barely seeming to skim the cold ground as she flew toward sanctuary. Or what she prayed was sanctuary, anyway. If she was wrong, she wouldn’t live to regret it. The first staccato bark confirmed her fears. One of her pursuers had picked up her scent trail and was alerting the others to the location. Now it was only a matter of time before they found her. All she could do was run and pray she made it to safety before they all caught up. If just one came at her, she could handle it. In a fight between a lone wolf and a single coyote, the wolf almost always won, even a smaller and lighter red wolf like her. Which was why Geoffrey had sent five of them after her. No way could she beat those odds. Five trained male enforcers of any species against little ol’ her? She’d need to be a polar bear to survive that. Branches snapped behind her, urging Renny to move even faster. If the coyotes on her tail weren’t worried about making noise, then they wouldn’t bother choosing a clear path to follow her. They’d plow through anything to take the straightest line right to her. Clearly, her nemesis had instructed them not to mess around anymore. A sharp yip of anticipation gave her a single instant of warning, and that will to survive made her dip her shoulder and twist into a sharp right turn. She dove into the underbrush, ignoring the clumps of snow that plopped onto her head and the way the thorns ripped through her thick fur to scrape at the skin beneath. She could warm up and lick her wounds later, when she was safe. If she managed to save herself at all. The unexpected maneuver may have gained her a few inches of distance between herself and the lead coyote, but that didn’t last. She could feel the enforcers closing in again, harrying her as if she were some kind of prey animal, like a wounded deer on the way to becoming the pack’s next meal. The comparison fit way too close for comfort. She tried to calculate how far she’d traveled in the last frantic minutes, but all she could do was guess. Running flat out, she could probably manage thirty-five miles an hour, but she couldn’t keep it up for more than a few minutes. Already, burning muscles and oxygen-starved lungs begged her to drop down to something more reasonable. So where had her panicked flight left her in relation to shifter Shangri-la? Not fricking close enough. If she was lucky, she’d covered eight of the thirteen miles between her and safety. Nine, if the Goddess happened to be looking out for her. It wasn’t nearly enough. Then something changed. A new smell cut through the atmosphere of pine needles and wet soil, rocks and wildlife. Something heavier, muskier. Male. Wolfish. Alpha. The realization almost made her slide to a terrified halt. Shit. She’d just stumbled into someone else’s territory—another shifter’s, by the scent of it—and that could be either good for her or very, very bad. A wolf shifter might take her side against a pack of coyote goons, or he might decide to kill her himself for trespassing on his territory. There was no way to tell. Maybe now would be a good time to dedicate herself to serving the Goddess and a life of prayer? She sent one up, hastily but earnestly begging the Moon and all Her Sisters for a miracle. Something, anything to get her out of the reach of the coyotes, who would drag her back to Sawmill, California, and her death at Geoffrey Hilliard’s brutal hands. Zigzagging through the underbrush, Renny spotted a pinpoint of light in the distance and made a beeline for it. Maybe the prayer had worked, and the light represented the town of Alpha, or at least its outskirts. Town meant people, and a town like Alpha meant people capable of holding off a small band of coyote enforcers long enough for her to beg for help. It meant a spark of hope. She called up the last of her reserves of strength and flew toward the light, but the attack came so fast, she didn’t even have time to second-guess that whole prayer strategy. She’d gotten too busy bleeding. She yelped as a set of fangs sliced into the back of her hind leg. The pain jolted through her, but her attacker had missed the big tendons, so at least she didn’t fall or lose the use of her limb. That would have ended things fast. But Renny could keep moving, for the moment. So she did. Stubborn, desperate determination welled up within her. Damn it, she had not lived this long, come this far, or run this hard to let herself be caught now. She refused. With a frantic yip, she leapt forward toward the clear pool of moonlight she could see through the branches. The beckoning light reflected off a patch of snow dead ahead, just a few hundred yards away. If she could get there, this would be over. One way or another. She’d have reached safety or not, and in either event, she’d be out of options. She broke out from a thicket of salal bushes, almost blinded by the glare of moonlight off the lingering puddles of white snow, but it didn’t slow her down. She didn’t need to see to know she had to keep moving. Run or die. Heart pounding, lungs burning, muscles screaming, Renny raced ahead, no chance to take a breath, no chance to scream, no chance to think. She just focused on that light as it flickered closer. Almost there. Almost— He hit her from the side this time, a cannonball of momentum that knocked Renny clean off her feet and sent her skidding through the detritus of slush, twigs, and leaves covering the forest floor. The shock left her dazed, but she still recognized the stink of him. Bryce. Geoffrey’s beta and one of his closest friends. And almost as evil as the alpha coyote himself. She scrambled for purchase, trying to halt her slide and get her feet back under her before the other four caught up to them. If she let them surround her, it was over. She had to keep them off her back. Bryce snarled at her, lips curling back to expose fangs that dripped with anticipation. At least she knew he was anticipating her death, not her rape and then death, as Geoffrey would. Bryce wanted only her blood, and in the heat of the moment, she suddenly wondered whether he’d bother following his leader’s orders. Tearing her throat out himself would bring the big coyote a lot more personal satisfaction than hauling her ass back south and watching while his alpha did the honors after a day or two at Geoffrey’s mercy. Bryce had performed the hunt, now his beast would want the kill. He positioned himself between her and the light she’d tried so desperately to reach. He held his head low and forward, his hackles raised as he stared her down with his malicious yellow gaze. He was waiting for her to move, knowing she was already injured, knowing that if he remained patient long enough, either she’d come at him and expose herself to a counterattack or his buddies would reach them. Five against one would see her dead or captured in the space of a heartbeat. Renny didn’t like either of those options. Her ear flicked backward, catching the sound of the others gaining on them. She had seconds, if that, to find a way out of this. It wasn’t as though she had much choice. The only way open to her was up. She crouched down, mirroring the coyote’s attack posture, but she didn’t bother going for his throat. She knew that even if she managed to take him down, the others would be on her before he started bleeding. She wouldn’t get out of this by fighting. She had to take a leap of faith, literally. Powerful muscles coiled and released with a shocking force, launching Renny into the air and toward her enemy, but she hadn’t aimed for him. She’d aimed for the space over his head, behind him, and she’d almost cleared Bryce’s tail before he realized what she was doing. He jumped up, teeth flashing, and caught her in the side, slashing a deep, bloody furrow over her ribs. She screamed, the sound emerging from her canine throat as a sort of high-pitched howling yelp, but she didn’t bother to assess the damage. She just ran straight toward the light. Behind her, Bryce gave a yip-howl of rage and frustration and leapt after her. She could practically feel his hot breath stirring the hairs at the tip of her tail, and that only made her run faster. She’d broken through another stand of trees before she realized that the distant light she’d prayed was the outskirts of Alpha wasn’t quite so distant, and it wasn’t anything like her long-sought sanctuary. The light shone from a single spotlight mounted in the apex of the peaked roof of a lone, otherwise darkened cabin. A cabin that smelled so strongly of wolf, she was surprised the siding hadn’t sprouted fur. Her heart barely had time to sink before a distinctive metallic rasp caught her attention. The sound was almost immediately followed by the sharp, echoing report of gunfire. Bryce yowled, and suddenly Renny couldn’t sense him at her back. She chanced a look over her shoulder and saw the coyote spin on his heels, making a diving retreat into the cover of the trees. Drops of blood sprayed the snow and mud behind him. In front of her, a tall figure stood on the porch of the cabin, almost hidden in shadows. The stock of a rifle remained braced on his shoulder, his head bent toward the barrel as he sighted for another shot. Huh. After all these days of running and fearing her death might be just around the corner, Renny had never even considered the end might hit with the impact of a bullet. Who’d have thought? Her paws stumbled over the uneven ground at the edge of the cabin’s yard, and she felt her knees buckle. Her hind leg throbbed in time to her racing heartbeat, and the gash in her side felt like a burning stripe of fire. She could feel blood streaming from both wounds and thought it almost didn’t matter if the man fired again. A bullet in the head sounded like the better choice when compared with bleeding to death in front of a stranger, and either was preferable to what Geoffrey planned to do to her. That was her last (semi-)coherent thought. She folded like a cheap card table, collapsing onto the wet ground with a low grunt. Her head bounced once before darkness claimed her, and in that last dizzy moment, she could have sworn she heard another wolf growling. It sounded a lot as though he’d just muttered, “Shit.” * * * Sitting alone in the light of the dying fire, Mick decided he made a damned pathetic sight. Here he sat, home alone on yet another Friday night, nursing a warming beer and trying to keep his mind clear of old, familiar memories. So far, he was failing miserably. He swallowed more warm, bitter liquid and stared into the glowing coals in his living room hearth. Nights like these, when spring had begun to stir and his latest project was packed off to his publisher, sleep became sadly elusive, and he found himself right here on his battered sofa, trying not to think. Actually, he could have slept if he’d tried, he admitted. He just didn’t make the effort. Sleeping opened the door to dreaming, and lately every dream led back to the same place. His wolf seized control and steered them straight back to their dead mate. It wasn’t what Mick would call restful. Fuck. It had happened more than eight years ago, he reminded himself. You’d think he’d be over it, that he’d have done his mourning, let go of the past, and settled into his new life here in Alpha. But you’d be wrong. Maybe the eight years was the problem. Few wolves survived losing a mate as suddenly and traumatically as Mick had. Most followed the other half of themselves into the darkness and never had to endure the passing of time. He still didn’t know why he hadn’t, but after all these years, he wondered if his wolf was maybe coming unhinged from the loneliness. He snorted, disgusted with himself. One more sleepless night and look at him—he was getting fucking maudlin. Maybe it wasn’t loneliness at all, maybe he was just losing his damned mind. A scream of canine pain hit him like a sucker punch to the back of his head. Mick jumped to his feet, his hand already reaching for his rifle before his mind could grasp what was bothering him. He’d lived out here in these woods long enough to have become used to the sounds they made at all hours of the day and night. He could tell a gust of wind from the rustle of the underbrush, the step of a buck deer from the footfalls of the rare moose calf. He also knew which of the locals had the balls to run and hunt on his property in the middle of the night, and none of them had given him a heads-up about their presence. Which meant that somewhere outside his small house, he had some uninvited guests. Cursing under his breath, Mick almost put down the rifle and flung open his door bare-handed. If the teenagers of Alpha were daring one another to play chase in his woods again, a bullet would probably be overkill. Most of them were so scared of him, he wouldn’t even have to raise his voice to send them scattering like frightened bunnies. Seeing a gun in his hand might make the little shits pass out, and then it could be hours before they got the hell off his property. Besides, that scream had indicated someone was injured. He couldn’t shoot a wounded kid, no matter how much they’d pissed him off. A distinctive bark-howl cut off that line of thinking and had his fingers tightening around the barrel of the weapon. He recognized that sound, as out of place as it was, and it had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. That was a coyote calling his pack to the hunt. Last time he’d checked, they didn’t have any coyotes in Alpha, let alone a pack of them. So what the hell were they doing in his woods? He shifted his grip on the rifle and checked through the front window before opening the door and stepping out onto his unlit front porch. The room behind him remained illuminated only by the fire, but something had triggered the motion sensors that activated the spotlight near the roof. It shone onto the hard-packed dirt of the drive, but the glow managed to extend a little way across the scattered islands of lingering snow toward the edge of the woods to his right. Mick faced that way and peered into the darkness. At first, he couldn’t see worth a damn, but his eyes adjusted quickly and his ears were already picking up the sounds of flight and pursuit through the dense northwestern forest. Two more short, sharp cries answered the first bark-howl, followed by a third and a fourth. Definitely a pack, or at least a hunting party. But what were they doing here, in Alpha, on his land? And what the hell were they hunting? He got his answer an instant later. A sleek, fur-covered form launched itself from the trees into the cleared area around the cabin. Reflex had the rifle to his shoulder, but instinct kept him from pulling the trigger. The calls he’d already heard had him thinking coyote, and if the animal hadn’t landed near enough to the edge of the light, he might have kept thinking it. But something about that shape bothered him. It looked on the large size for a ’yote, maybe seventy or seventy-five pounds, and sturdy as much as lithe, too substantial for the average coyote. Its ears seemed out of proportion to its skull, too large for the breadth of it. Then the light caught its fur, and he could see the russet coloring around its ears and neck, a rusty shade that seemed to darken to near black along its spine. That same rich red also decorated its flank near the site of a bloody tear in the muscle. That was no coyote. It was a wolf, or a hybrid at best, half wolf and half coyote. He should recognize one when he saw it. Instinct had him drawing in a breath, and the scent cleared up his confusion. His yard had been invaded by another wolf shifter, a red wolf, he realized, and she was badly injured. His supposition was confirmed when another shape crashed into the yard, this one lighter and leaner, looking almost delicate when he compared it with the wounded shape. This one was pure coyote shaped, and the dark, wet stains around its muzzle identified it as the cause of the female wolf’s injuries. He squeezed the trigger almost before the reality finished registering and felt the rifle’s stock nudge back into his shoulder. The bullet grazed the side of the coyote’s shoulder, making it yelp in pain and surprise. Its head swung around, yellow gaze fixing on him for an instant before it turned tail and dove back into the cover of the trees. Mick waited for a minute to see if any of the others in the hunting party felt like trying their luck to get to the she-wolf. Driven by the instinct to kill or mate, a regular coyote might press its luck, but a shifter would think twice. When no other animals appeared, he slowly lowered his gun and stepped down into the yard. The female was unconscious, but her sides still heaved as if she’d been running a marathon. The sharp aroma of blood hit him first, and he knew from the way it almost overwhelmed her natural scent that she was losing a dangerous amount of it. He also knew from one more deep inhalation that he’d been correct in identifying her species. She was more than a rare red wolf; she was a red wolf shifter, and she was in serious trouble. “Shit.” He muttered the word even as he crouched down beside her, setting his rifle near his feet within easy grabbing distance. A swift rake of his gaze took in her condition—good muscle tone, healthy size, but clearly exhausted—as well as the extent of her wounds. In addition to the gash he’d noticed on her rear leg, he could see blood saturating the cream-colored fur of her belly where her side pressed against the ground. He rolled her gently over and muttered an even stronger curse. The wound on her flank had looked ragged and bloody, but the damage to her side made it seem like a love bite. Fangs had torn deep under her fur and opened a laceration almost as long as his forearm. It extended from just behind her shoulder, across her rib cage, and nearly to her groin. The ugly slash had been ripped open by her exertions and it continued to bleed heavily under the layer of mud and debris that now clung to the surface. Shifter or not, it looked deep enough to need stitches. Damn it, he’d have to make a phone call. But first things first. He scooped the limp wolf into his arms, catching his rifle in his fingers as he rose. She flopped in his hold like a sack of grain, but he’d hauled heavier burdens on one shoulder, so the weight didn’t bother him. What bothered him was her stillness and the way she didn’t even twitch when he lifted her. It took just a minute or two to carry her into the cabin and kick the door closed behind them. After depositing her on his sofa, he returned immediately to bolt the door and engage the security system he’d installed the first day he’d moved in. If those coyotes decided to try for her again, Mick wanted some advanced warning. Secured inside, he strode into the hall to grab a stack of clean towels from the closet. On the way, he snagged his cell phone from the coffee table and dialed a familiar number. “What?” Mick ignored the annoyed tone of the greeting, filled his arms with terry cloth, and returned to the sofa. “I need you out at my place. Now.” Zeke Buchanan muttered something foul under his breath. “It’s fucking three o’clock in the morning, asshole, and I’m not on duty. Call the office.” “I’ve got an injured shifter in my living room, and I just shot the coyote who was trying to kill her. Only grazed him, but it sounded like he had friends, and I don’t know how determined they might be. Get out here. And send an ambulance.” He didn’t bother to listen while Zeke swore again. The snap and rustle of fabric and the squeak of mattress springs told him what he needed to know. The sheriff’s deputy would be here as soon as he got some pants on. In the meantime, Mick needed to stop the she-wolf on his sofa from bleeding to death until help arrived. His knees hit the floor, his hands reaching to press a folded towel to the more severe of her wounds, when the air around her wavered and fell out of focus. While he blinked, the figure of a wolf blurred and shifted, leaving a petite, naked, and badly injured woman passed out in his living room. A very attractive naked woman. Shit. He told himself to avert his eyes, but damned if the damage hadn’t already been done. His man and wolf had already both sat up and taken notice. He could almost feel the twitch of a whiskered black nose in the back of his head as the beast pushed itself forward to take in her scent. She smelled amazing. Under the sweet coppery note of her blood, he could detect notes of citrus and green leaves and something deeper and spicier that simply reminded him of home. He hadn’t smelled anything like it in more than eight years, not since— He cut that speculation off at the knees—not boarding that train of thought, thanks—and made himself focus on assessing the female’s wounds. Her change of shape had jump-started her shifter ability to heal quickly, but it would take more than one trip from fur to skin to close a wound as serious as the one on her side. The ragged gash now covered a swath of milky skin from just to the side of a pretty, pink-tipped breast, all along her torso to the crease between her hip and thigh on the right-hand side. Dirt still clung to the torn and bloody flesh, which Mick almost found a relief. It helped pull his attention away from all the uninjured bits he could see and focus it where it needed to be—on helping her, not ogling her. Gritting his teeth and fixing his gaze on the injury, Mick pressed a towel hard against her ribs with one hand and used the other to tuck more towels under her opposite hip where he’d seen the less serious laceration. Her weight should provide the necessary pressure to stop the bleeding on that side, but he had to lean into the deeper wound. Thank fuck she remained unconscious, because if she’d been awake, she’d probably have been screaming from the pain. He lost track of time while he knelt there applying pressure and waiting for help to arrive. Even if Zeke floored it all the way from town, it was at least a ten-minute drive out to Mick’s place, which left way too much time for him to get a good, long look at his uninvited guest. It made him feel like a pervert, staring at her while she remained completely out of it, but he couldn’t help himself. Something about her drew his gaze like a magnet, and he really wished his subconscious weren’t so anxious to needle him about what it was. Her wolf looked like Beth. A corner of his mind gave thanks that she had shifted back to her skin, because it cut the resemblance considerably, but when he’d first seen her burst out of the forest, he’d thought for one wild, insane second that his mate had come back from the dead. It had nearly stopped his heart. The two animals had the same delicate build, the same pointed muzzles, the same creamy coloring on their chests. Beth had been a little taller, a little more muscular, but she’d been mistaken for a red wolf more than a few times in her shifted life. She hadn’t been just a hybrid—half gray wolf like him, half coyote like her father—but her looks in her furred form bore a strong resemblance to the woman who had almost died tonight in his front yard. That was an image he had never wanted to see again—a woman bloody and broken, torn apart, and left for him to find. He’d left that nightmare behind him, buried it in California before he’d moved north and settled here in Alpha. Not even the devil himself had the power to drag him back to the town where he’d been born. Not on the coldest day in hell. A pounding fist shook his front door in the frame, jerking Mick back to the present. His wolf sprang to attention, ready to tear out the throats of any coyote who tried to get inside his home. It took a second for him to realize that it had been long enough for Zeke to have arrived. He opened his mouth to call for his friend to come in, then remembered how he’d double-locked the door as a precaution. He’d have to go open it himself. A quick check at the underside of the towel revealed way too much red soaked into the cotton, but the active bleeding appeared to have slowed to a trickle. At least it looked safe enough for Mick to step away for the seconds it took to disarm the alarm system and flip a couple of locks. Zeke pushed inside almost before Mick released the dead bolt, and the aggressive move ripped a snarl from his wolf before he managed to get hold of himself. He’d known who was on the other side of the door from both the knock and the smell, but the night’s events had riled up his beast, and the wolf didn’t like another male forcing his way into its den, even if he’d been invited. Mick smacked the animal down and stepped back to let the other man enter. “C’mon in.” Zeke grunted and moved aside to reveal a second, much smaller form standing behind him. Molly Buchanan smiled and waved with one hand. In the other, she carried a large plastic case like her brother’s favorite tackle box, only this one was bright yellow and had a big red cross emblazoned on the lid. “Hey, Mick,” she chirped, bouncing on her toes as if it weren’t the middle of the night and she hadn’t been dragged from her bed minutes ago to come racing out into the woods. “You called for the cavalry?” Mick supposed that, as an EMT, racing places in the middle of the night wasn’t so odd an experience for Molly. He waved her inside. She might not be in an ambulance, but she rode in one most other nights. She’d be able to help the she-wolf. Molly stepped inside while her brother laid a hand on Mick’s shoulder and squeezed. “Okay,” Zeke grumbled. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what the hell is going on? Injured shifters? Coyotes? And you shot one of them? What the fuck, Mick?” “Yeah, Mick. What the fuck?” The third figure to appear in his front door caused the greatest surprise. John Jaeger had dropped by Mick’s house on precisely two previous occasions. The first had been a thinly veiled evaluation when he’d first arrived in town. As mayor of Alpha, Jaeger took his duty to protect and manage his town seriously. To have a new, lone wolf move in but refuse all attempts from the locals to integrate him into their community had raised an alarm for the mountain lion shifter. He had wanted to ensure that Mick didn’t intend to make trouble. The second visit had been harder to anticipate but infinitely more entertaining. Jaeger had dropped by to return a pair of boxer briefs he had found in his truck bed after the woman he’d been seeing had borrowed the vehicle to “move some furniture.” The only thing that had gotten moved were the bodies in the bed of the pickup when she’d invited Mick out for a moonlit picnic. The boxers came with an offer to let Mick keep the woman, too, but as it turned out, neither he nor the mayor had much keeping in mind for the woman in question. They had all gone their separate ways, and the two men had never spoken of the incident again. “Jaeger.” The growl rumbled up in Mick’s throat before he could stop it. Adrenaline still rode him enough that his beast was expressing its displeasure at both the man’s unexpected appearance in his territory and the deputy’s belligerent manner. “What are you doing here?” The man lifted an eyebrow and jerked a thumb toward the woods behind him. “Zeke told me you had some trouble out here tonight. Something about injured strangers, coyotes, and bullets. I came to make sure it wasn’t the kind of ruckus that called for shovels.” “Not yet.” Molly cleared her throat loudly. “Um, not to inconvenience anyone, but I heard someone was bleeding around here. Would any of you big, strong men like to point me in that direction before the patient runs out of the red stuff? You know, if it’s no trouble.” The lioness might be a head shorter than the smallest male in the room, but such an insignificant detail never had done much to hinder that smart mouth of hers. Mick gritted his teeth and swallowed another rumble of displeasure. His wolf seemed ready to go on a tear. Of shifters’ throats. “She’s in here.” He turned on his heel and led Molly and the others into the living room. The lioness strode to the sofa and crouched in the same spot where Mick had been kneeling. In seconds, she had her fingers on the woman’s pulse and her kit open on the floor beside her. She nodded to herself, then snapped on a pair of bright blue gloves before she briskly and competently began to examine the unconscious woman’s side. “Her temp’s a little low, but it’s cold out tonight, so I imagine that will come up on its own. That last snowfall just won’t go away, will it? The wounds look messy and painful, but not life-threatening,” Molly proclaimed, poking gingerly at the lacerated tissue. “Not for a shifter, anyway. I can clean it up and bandage it, but it should heal on its own.” Mick scowled. “No stitches?” “You know stitches just piss shifters off. They itch like crazy, and they pull at all sorts of weird angles when we try to shift. Bandages are better.” She didn’t bother to look up, just reached for a bottle of clear liquid and a handful of gauze. She began irrigating the wound, washing away the mud and debris that had contaminated it when the wolf collapsed. Her calm manner and sure movements seemed to calm Mick’s wolf, and he felt himself take his first deep breath in what felt like hours. It had probably been less than twenty minutes. Jaeger shifted his weight and stepped forward, peering over Mick’s shoulder at the injured woman. “Who is she?” Mick shrugged one shoulder, the movement still short and tense. “No idea. She just showed up in the yard, bleeding like a butcher’s hog, and keeled over. Didn’t stop to exchange pleasantries.” “And at what point did you find yourself shooting at strange coyotes?” “When one of them came after her with her blood on his jaw and a few friends at his back.” The mayor looked grim. “You sure you hit him?” “I saw blood in the snow, and it wasn’t all hers. He yelped, too. I figure I at least grazed him.” “It was a male?” “The one I saw was. I didn’t see any others, but I could hear them coming through the woods. They must have backed off when they heard the gunshot.” Zeke didn’t look up from the small pad where he’d been jotting down notes. “They were definitely shifters, not regular coyotes?” “Like I said, I only saw the one, but I got a look at his eyes, and I got a whiff of him. He was Other, which means his buddies probably were, too.” Jaeger agreed. “Most likely. We’ve got our share of coyotes in this state, but not many in the area around Alpha. They know they can’t compete with the bigger predators we have roaming these woods, so they tend to give us a pretty wide berth.” “Right.” Zeke snapped his notebook shut and shoved it into a pocket. “I’m going to take a look around outside while Molly bandages up the victim. I’ll need to ask her a hell of a lot of questions, but they can wait till she’s conscious.” “You’ll get better answers that way,” Jaeger said, mouth curving. The lion shifter shot the mayor the bird on his way out the front door. The other man just chuckled, then turned back to Mick. “So.” He rocked back on his heels and hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. “It’s three thirty in the morning, you have an unconscious and wounded female on your sofa, an EMT patching her up, a deputy nosing around your property, and a mayor in your living room who’d be willing to consider performing several illegal acts for a good hit of caffeine. Ideas?” Mick rolled his eyes. “I’ll make coffee.” He spun around and stalked toward the kitchen, Jaeger hot on his heels. What else was there to do? Molly was treating the she-wolf, Zeke was playing cop, and his wolf had no intention of letting him sleep anytime soon. Not with that intriguingly scented female currently passed out in his living room. Might as well drink a pot of coffee. He’d take it black, like his mood at having all these uninvited guests in his den. So much for his wolf feeling lonely. Copyright © 2018 by Christine Warren in Baby, I’m Howling For You and reprinted with permission from St. Martin’s Paperbacks.

Release Day Blitz! Christine Warren ALPHAVILLE Something to Howl About (Alphaville #0.5) by Christine Warren Release Date: January 2, 2018 Book Review…

#Christine Warren #New Release

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oselatra · 7 years

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The Murphy Arts District aims to make Arkansas's original boomtown boom again

The planned El Dorado makeover launches with a series of big-name concerts beginning Sept. 28.

In the last dying days of September, Brad Paisley, Ludacris, Train, Robert Randolph, Smokey Robinson, Migos, Natasha Bedingfield and ZZ Top will all be making a beeline for Union County, bypassing cultural and culinary hubs like Bentonville and Little Rock for South Arkansas, where a former oil boom town is undergoing a $100 million makeover.

MAD, as it's called, short for Murphy Arts District, is a two-phase creation of an entertainment district aimed at revitalizing downtown El Dorado. It involves turning the 1928 Griffin Auto Co. Building, once a fuel station and showroom for Model T Fords, into The Griffin, a farm-to-table restaurant flanked by a cabaret lounge and a 2,000-seat music hall with a stageside elevator, multiple bars, a VIP loft, a concession area, dressing rooms and a patio adorned with a 110-foot statue of an oil derrick, a bombastic homage to the black gold from which El Dorado sprang. The lawn outside The Griffin has been carved into an outdoor amphitheater that can accomodate 8,000 people, with an adjacent farmer's market and 2-acre, free-admission "destination playscape" for kids.

That's just the part MAD calls "Phase I." Phase II, set to begin in two years, involves renovating the 1920s-chic Rialto Theater (on the National Register of Historic Places, along with the Griffin Building) and turning the adjacent McWilliams building into a 10,000-square-foot art gallery with artist-in-residence quarters.

MAD's marketing campaign has caught some attention for its wholesome but savvy parodies — see the Macklemore-inspired "Downtown" video on YouTube from the spring of 2016, or this year's MGM-bright, one-take ensemble number "El Do Land," a parody of the opening sequence from "La La Land," the whimsical, not-quite-"Best Picture" of the 2017 Oscars.

The whole thing's in countdown mode, with organizers preparing for a massive five-day launch Sept. 28 with six major ticketed concerts, private donor events and over 25 free concerts on El Dorado's Union Square. Like its promotional videos, MAD is an ambitious operation, tightly choreographed, but nimble enough to turn on a dime when it needs to. I've been down Highway 167 to watch things take shape as the clock ticks.

Location, location, location

MAD is an acronym, but it's also a pretty apt description of the ethos behind the project. To understand why, it helps to take a look at a map of the country. Put pushpins on the major markets in the lucrative and logistically complex world of big-budget music tours. We're talking about cities targeted by behemoth PR machines like, say, the one behind Brad Paisley's "Weekend Warrior World Tour," a 38-date affair complete with three opening acts, stops in Norway and Sweden and a concurrent partnership with Boot Barn on an exclusive line of jeans, hats, jewelry, belts and woven shirts called "Moonshine Spirit." Tours like Paisley's usually land on some clear frontrunner markets: New York, LA, Chicago. In the South, there's Nashville, Dallas, Austin, New Orleans, Atlanta. Because tour production companies like Live Nation and AEG Presents have built their fortunes along the infrastructure that links those cities, location matters — a lot. It's the reason why Little Rock is blessed with a bounty of last-minute shows from inventive up-and-comers the week preceding South by Southwest: they're all Austin-bound. As any show promoter will tell you, a market's proximity to its bigger neighbors, paired with a promoter's ability to catch talent traveling between markets, can make or break the success of a live music venue in its first year of operation.

Consider all that when you place the next pin on your theoretical map: directly above El Dorado, smack dab in the middle of Union County, about 16 miles north of the Louisiana border. Closest neighbors include Parkers Chapel, Quinn and Newell. Further out in the county, there are cities whose populations the U.S. Census Bureau actually bothers to count: Norphlet (population 844), Calion (494) and Smackover (1,865); not exactly thrilling territory for music promoters trying to engage new listeners (and their wallets). That is, El Dorado is not only in the middle of nowhere, it's not even on the way to anywhere.

Then again, relative geography didn't matter to El Dorado circa 1921, when the January discovery of an oil well spurred the creation of a town swimming pool, amusement park and auditorium. Nine hundred other oil wells followed, and the population of 4,000 — sustained mostly by a cotton and timber industry — ballooned to over 25,000. When there's Texas Tea involved, proximity of neighboring markets is of little concern. You get some tanker trains loaded and moving — boxcars trembling from the top to the ground, as Merle Haggard sang — and you export the stuff.

When it's a century later, and it's culture itself you want to tremble and shake, you get Terry Stewart.

Boom (again)

Stewart's office sits at the far end of a long, open workspace at the corner of Cedar and Washington streets in downtown El Dorado. On a visit in early August, the place buzzed with the energy of a young tech startup — open floor plan down the middle, lined with meeting rooms around the perimeter, the doors of most of them swung open. A color-coded map of concrete-pour plans stretched across a wall in the reception area. A young woman up front spoke into the reception phone receiver and made notes on a memo pad. "Yes, ma'am, we're really excited," she told her caller.

Stewart's office is scant and smartly decorated. What he says is only a tiny sampling of his record collection sits on a shelf above his desk, a John Raitt LP in full view. A tiny fidget spinner pin decorates the lapel of his jacket; Stewart self-identifies as a "culture vulture." On a scale of one to the Atacama Desert, Stewart's wit is upward of the 90th percentile, impeccably dry. When I asked him, for example, how the MAD project would sustain itself after launch, he deadpanned: "It's not. It's gonna fail miserably. I'll be back in Cleveland, and none of it will matter." A curl at the edge of his mouth telegraphed his mischief, but he committed to the routine anyway, insisting that I'd be able to get a whale of a deal on the MAD headquarters' office furniture after the whole thing folds.

Stewart was "born in LA," he told me: "Lower Alabama." As a kid, he collected comics. Later, he collected degrees — two from Rutgers University in education and engineering and two graduate degrees from Cornell University in business and law. He steered Marvel Comics through a financially turbulent decade in the '90s as the company's executive-turned-COO and was named CNBC's "Marketing Executive of The Year" in 1991, the year the company went public. In 1999, he signed on as CEO of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame as its fifth director since the hall opened four years earlier. Stewart stayed on for 14 years. In that time, he oversaw a complete museum redesign, shepherded the company's checkbook safely away from chaos and negotiated to get the induction ceremony moved from Manhattan to Cleveland every few years.

So how'd the guy who ran Marvel and the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame end up in El Dorado? "You have three publicly traded companies here — Murphy Oil, Murphy USA and Deltic Timber," Stewart said. "You have a number of chemical companies. You have a refinery here. And they have a bad time recruiting people to come work in their companies." Stewart first visited for the town's annual Musicfest El Dorado "six or seven years ago." He says that despite assets like a $50 million high school, the longest-running symphony in the state and Murphy Oil Foundation's ambitious college scholarship program — the "El Dorado Promise" — it turns out that people graduating from large colleges in major metropolitan areas, "the people they're trying to recruit," Stewart said, don't especially want to uproot their lives and set up shop south of someplace called Smackover for a job offer. When recruitment gets tough, big companies often jump ship and relocate their headquarters. "If they do," Stewart said, "it's going to undermine this town, which is a very bucolic, lovely town."

Bob Tarren, MAD's chief marketing officer, was the former marketing director for The Frick Pittsburgh and Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. "There are white collar jobs as well as blue that are hard to fill because people come here with their families and say, 'What's there to do?' " he said.

Stewart concluded, "The idea was, how do you change that cultural situation?"

First, spend a lot of money. Stewart and his team say they've raised "something approaching $70 million," bankrolled by contributions from The Walton Foundation, Murphy Oil, Murphy USA and The Murphy Foundation. "The city has passed two levies that total $14 million," Stewart said, "and then there are other individuals who have given a million here, a million there."

I asked Stewart if he'd heard any concern from residents fearing downtown's disruption could lead to higher rents, gentrification or eventual displacement. He gestured toward the office door to the island along the center of the workspace, awash with blueprints, plans for developing MAD's donor base, hard hats with paint jobs courtesy of some local art students and a crew in steady motion. "All the people you see sitting out there," he said, "are from here. ... We brought in a core group of people from outside who we thought had the experience we needed. Austin [Barrow, MAD president and formerly a theater professor at Andrew College in Cuthbert, Ga.] is from here. Bob, myself, Dan [Dan Smith, MAD's vice president, who managed food and beverage for the Cleveland Indians and a handful of "House of Blues" venues] all came in from someplace else. Mark [Givens], our talent booker, is from here." Stewart estimates the project will create around 65 to 70 jobs and, he hopes, many more in neighboring businesses in years to come.

"This is not something that's gonna be cash-flow positive when we open up," Stewart said. "It's gonna take a long time until it's sustainable. And to make sure that we don't fail, we need the funding to continue to do something that looks like how we opened." Obviously, he noted, the likes of Migos and Brad Paisley won't be a nightly thing, but MAD will create 12 months a year of "weekly and monthly programming — a continuity that people can come to expect, like, 'Oh, wow, I wonder what they're doing in El Dorado tonight.' " Post-launch, MAD has programmed a dense fall lineup: Earls of Leicester, the El Dorado Film Festival, the acrobatic Shanghai Circus and an '80s tribute band called The Molly Ringwalds. As I spoke with Stewart on a Wednesday in August, cheers broke out and bells clanged in the main room. I asked what had happened.

"I don't know," Stewart said. "Mary, what was that about?" The Beach Boys had just been confirmed for a Nov. 1 concert.

There are genres Stewart feels strongly about representing in future months, he says, that are missing from the launch lineup — metal and the music of Latin American countries, for example.

Tara and Tinkerbell

One of the individuals cheering at the MAD offices that day was Tara Gathright, an El Dorado native and dance teacher who escorted me around the construction site. Shedding her heels in favor of closed-toed boots, Gathright donned a glitter-covered hard hat and crossed Cedar Street, passing through the ruddy construction mud southeast of Hill's Recreation Parlor. Since June, she's acted as MAD's membership manager, cultivating and finessing donor relationships. "I loved my dance studio," she said, "but I needed something else." Despite hesitation that her experience as a dancer in Vegas and on cruise ships didn't qualify her for the work, Dan Smith, the MAD vice president, recruited her for the job. "He said, 'You've been all over the world, and you know what good service is. I'll teach you everything else,' " Gathright recalled. Hill's, which Gathright says is also getting an update, boasts the title of the longest-running pool hall in the state, open since 1925 and undoubtedly the future gritty counterpoint to the nearby Griffin, which will serve craft beer, fine wine and custom cocktails.

"Every time I come in here it looks different," she said, strolling up to a VIP loft overlooking the amphitheater lawn. We wandered through a maze of dressing rooms, rooms for security staff, a service alley, a coat check room and a room dedicated solely to housing the leviathan air conditioning unit that will cool the music hall. A tiny dog bounced between the feet of several construction workers installing security equipment in a glass-encased anteroom. "That's Tinkerbell," Gathright said. The chihuahua mix, evidently a staple of the MAD construction scene, makes a cameo in a few of MAD's update videos on social media. Gathright and I exited behind the Rialto Theater, slated for revamp in Phase II. She thinks, if memory serves, she had her first kiss there. I asked her what movie was playing. "Oh, you know, probably "Teen Wolf II!" she said, and laughed.

A griffin is a mythological hybrid animal

U.S. Highway 167 from Little Rock to El Dorado is a corridor of uniform pine trees, farmed by logging companies like Deltic Timber Corp., a company that owns 530,000 acres of timber and that's listed on the New York Stock Exchange. Big rigs abound — the kind with their walls pulled out to reveal skeletal scaffolding, lined with clean yellow logs. Deer stands and signs announcing concealed carry classes and hunting clubs pop up irregularly, reminding passersby that this is gun country. Clearcuts along the highway have left wide dirt tracks amid the pines, with piles of burned brush alongside. Somewhere in those pines, just past the Calhoun County line where Hwy. 167 splits off from U.S. Highway 79, the signal for Little Rock's NPR affiliate gives out a little and Al Gore's admonitions on "Fresh Air" about climate change and "the marriage of the presidency to the television screen" get a sloppy mash-up with The Police's "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic."

It's difficult to imagine that road becoming a well-worn path for culture seekers, perhaps because what MAD is doing doesn't have a direct role model. It's a hybrid project — part festival, part urban renewal project, part amusement park for oil company families and visitors from Memphis, Dallas, Jackson and Shreveport. "There's nothing like us to compare us to," marketing director Tarren said. "And we're building it from the dirt up." Marfa, Texas, and Woodstock, N.Y., might be the closest analogies: destination art towns far from the big city lights. Notably, MAD's design comes from Paul Westlake, the architect behind Woodstock's Bethel Woods Center for the Arts, which opened in 2006. "What we're doing is so dimensional," Tarren said. "And we know that not everything we think is going to work, will work. And so we're gonna adjust."

For tickets or for more information, visit eldomad.com.

The Murphy Arts District aims to make Arkansas's original boomtown boom again

#The Murphy Arts District aims to make Arkansas's original boomtown boom again

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