#i had a lot of fun putting a bunch of local brands in there. its funny to imagine the ninja turtles drinking jugo baggio

[matutito]

some normal guys at the supermarket

#art #my post #my art #tmnt #tmna #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tortugas ninja #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #tmnt donnie #tmnt april o'neil #tmnt casey jones #i had a lot of fun putting a bunch of local brands in there. its funny to imagine the ninja turtles drinking jugo baggio

[bradassholemajors]

Wtf Is Shock Treatment’s Deal? (Or, Local Critic Discovers Escapism and Having Fun In The Midst of Late Stage Capitalistic Dread)

Watched Shock Treatment for the first time this week, and I am a changed man lol. Here are some disorganized thoughts:

I think something that makes Rocky Horror so special is that it can be as deep or not-deep as you want it to be. Like, if you want to think about the cultural implications of the themes portrayed (hedonism, gay & trans liberation, gender roles, the Invasion-of-the-Body-snatchers style infiltration of outside queer forces, the downfall of the safety contained within a collective identity), you can absolutely do that! There’s so much to be interpreted there!! But if you are just here to see Tim Curry looking incredibly sexy and violently thrust along to the Time Warp at a midnight showing with a bunch of cool strangers, that is absolutely awesome, too. Slay!! Take what you want.

BUT SHOCK TREATMENT MANNNN??? Shock Treatment is a whole different ballgame lol. Like, it is also a thematically rich goldmine, if you’re willing to squint a little— in terms of content included, not necessarily how it’s portrayed within the narrative. In the words of Barry Bostwick here, “it was a statement about the future that we weren't quite ready to explore. We didn't really even have the mental emotional vocabulary to understand what Richard [O’Brien, the creator] was trying to say.” I think this is spot-fucking-on!!! It’s absolutely frighteningly prescient, especially today in terms of the commodification of mental health. Like, woah. Janet being crowned “Miss Mental Health” felt like such a Gwyneth Paltrow moment. Cultural prophet Richard O’Brien saw the dark cloud of Betterhelp and wellness culture galloping over in the horizon in the distance of the American landscape, and he set out to warn us.

I still don’t quite understand what happened in the movie. I still don’t know what my takeaway was supposed to be. And I guess if you’re a little insane and love having fun doing thematic analysis with weird media (like me), taking Shock Treatment seriously may be right for you, lol. But thematically overall I think it’s safe to say: it’s a lot less coherent than its predecessor. It’s messy. It’s not interested in being flawless. It’s not interested in appealing to an audience. It’s barely interested in being a sequel. Shock Treatment is lowkey pointing and laughing in the face of those who showed up expecting a masterpiece— which admittedly was me, because I take Rocky Horror pretty seriously. (I put off watching Shock Treatment for a while bc I wasn’t sure about how it would affect the Rocky Horror Universe I had in my head.) If not for the internet reviews prepping me, I would have walked in completely expecting another nuanced perfect symphony of a movie to measure up to Rocky Horror’s magic.

But the thing was? Watching Shock Treatment, it ended up I did not really care!!!!! I was having the time of my life!!!!!

(more under the cut whoops)

Wtf was going on!!!!!!!!!!! Who knows!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I still don’t quite know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I loved it!!!

This reaction of such joy, just letting myself vibe out made me think because when did I start getting surprised when watching a movie is more pleasurable than not??? Isn’t that the entire point of media??

I think with the modern commodification of media analysis and examining pop culture up close, I’d argue that Fun Media without a message is actually pretty hard to come by— at least in mainstream culture. Even stuff as sanitized as Disney movies are now digging into like generational trauma, appealing to what seems to be a collective search for depth (or at least the appearance of depth.) Modern neo-nazi brands of fascism wields power like never before, horrific images of violence follow everyone left and right. Sometimes it seems like this open secret, that everyone knows there’s this looming darkness at the forefront of our minds at all times.

So this transition from Rocky Horror to Shock Treatment felt actually sort of powerful to me. Rocky Horror’s generation-long reverberations of shamelessly depicting sensual revelry are so powerful; it’s bold even for today! (Of course, we all know transvestite isn’t a term commonly used today, but looking at it through the lens of its time, it becomes clear what a miracle the movie is. Knowing what it must have meant to queer people at the time it became a phenomenon— giving them a real space to be themselves in a hostile world criminalizing who they were, in a time of oppressive pressure to stay silent — that is the type of brave blatant acceptance hard to come by in any era.) Rocky Horror is something I don’t know if will ever happen again, and its sequel seems to concur.

Shock Treatment has been called a cash grab but I beg to differ. If you’ve seen it, no offense: but does this seem marketable to you??? It seems like it’s a Richard O’Brien project (already wacky) that went through several levels of development hell and heavy modifications through the creative process. Said with the utmost respect… it may have got away from them a bit. Put lovingly, Shock Treatment lowkey kinda sucks a little at times. It’s silly, it’s got a huge cast and musical fun galore. It’s serving B-movie realness. I don’t say this to bash on it, I say this with a bemused respect— I think the existence of Shock Treatment is as much a miracle as Rocky Horror (aren’t all creations???)

So in the first iteration, we have advocacy and fighting for freedom for those long silenced… but also, Shock Treatment seems to allow the creators to just let themselves have fun. Aren’t they both revolutions in their own right? Does everything have to be lasting cultural milestones or does our enjoyment matter in the moment? I’d argue we need both as human beings to thrive. It comes back to that Rocky-Horror-experience philosophy I covered where you’re taking what you feel you need most from the media you consume: a message or a celebration of just being here.

In conclusion, sometimes shit doesn’t have to be that deep. More movies should just say “fuck it, we ball” and give you the most absolutely incoherent fun time of your life. I love not taking things seriously, and I love creators willing to not take their work seriously. Perhaps Richard O’Brien also had a premonition with Shock Treatment in the sense of how he just had fun with it! Maybe we need less attempts at masterpieces and more attempts at just creation for the joy of it— or both, because joyful creation makes masterpieces!!! I’d love to see more creators of every skill level and every background, known and not known, say fuck you to capitalism and expectation and marketability and just say, we’re gonna do it anyhow, anyhow!!!

#this got away from me #just like #shock treatment #may have for #richard o brien #media studies #hey janet. i’ve got something to say #this is so incoherent but I’m okay with that ❤️ love and light ❤️❤️ #written while I was so so sleep deprived pls only discuss if you are nice and kind abt it lol #love me writing a whole essay on how cool it is to not take things seriously - taking it Very Very Seriously #mamma mia #<- this is also abt her in a. way #Farley flavors call me

[magnuficent76]

Okay god some fun facts about Melaine and zir's transformation because. I'm insane basically. Under cut because this does delve a little into body horror/fucky wucky medical malpractice territory !

◆ People think Mephisto is unhinged for turning himself into like 3/4s machinery counting the organs they replaced, but they never consider Melaine being just completely off the doorframe with the amount of shit she does to herself.

◆ She was always obsessed with the idea of a perfect lifeform, and she found it in bugs. Even before she lost Jonah she was actively working towards doing some fucked up experimentation on herself. It started with an obsession with dissecting things, then came the whole doing chemistry to achieve things never before dreamed of... girl hobbies.

◆ The mutagen ze eventually creates essentially works by reactivating particles in the skeletal structure (which are usually less active by the time you reach full maturity and die slowly with aging), and then giving steroids. The bone had to puncture out of the skin [which ze removed zirself and then left exposed with only some fucked up cloth around it for it not to get infected] and then reajust itself with both the humerus, cardio and ajul, since ze was basically making up new body parts for herself. The body didn't react all too well to the first transformation however so ze had to perfect the formula before moving on to zir arms and legs, so human experimentation was on the menu again babyyyyyy.

◆ Ze grew the green eye on the left side on her lab inside a jar, with the intention of mixing human eye capabilities with the mobility of a mantis eye, thus why the pupil is so small constantly. In order to actually install it, she had to burn the original eye [to make taking out its dried shell off the socket easier] and put in the new one really fast, so the nerves would still be fresh and could easily latch onto the new receptor. It was scary, being blind temporarily while it was healing, but it was worth it ! For science !!!

◆ I like to think that although her experiments are all obviously unethical, there's not ever miscommunication for what ze is doing. Melaine finds locally sourced freaks around the planetary system and asks them "hey, wanna be half bug" and depending on the answer, she brings them to her lab and give them more bones than they know what to do with. Most of them stick around, mainly because its free shelter, but also because Melaine is just... a nice boss. They get free superpowers at the cost of a little humanity, and then they also get a brand new spankin' job ? With paid vacation nonetheless ! Most of the big companies don't even offer that ! So ze has a bunch of goons around the lab at all times. Helps keeping the whole operation hidden too, all things considered.

◆ Her skin is REALLY weird now. Its a halfway mix of scales and really smooth human skin, since the keratin plaques growing on a lot of parts of her body are distributed kind of unevenly for now. The "metamorphosis", according to her, "Was never meant to be linear, and its okay that its not perfect yet. Larva need to grow into adults before the true glory of their form is revealed". It DOES hurt a bit to have them form but hey, anything for science.

◆ Nowadays, ze keeps zir head mostly covered with zir's cover-up hat thingie, since the chemicals ze uses are NOT good for the scalp, but the actual hair isn't really being mutated much at all. Sure, ze keeps it shorter nowadays for convenience, but ze still cares a LOT for it. Appearance may not be why ze started the mutations, but you bet your ass it means a lot to zem.

◆ RAVENOUS apetite. Due to her basically growing like every single day (and her current form is only technically an "intermediate" stage), she needs really high quantities of calories in order to remain stable, but sometimes she just... forgets. Technically she can go several days without needing to eat, even if it stalls the metamorphosis slightly, but its still considered safest for her to at least have one big meal every day. She forgets though– more often than she'd like to admit– because she's busy with other work. She runs around the lab every single day in order to keep up with progress on people's own projects, as well as keeping up with family, and just doing regular work as a doctor [More people would rather be treated by the giant mantis lady than die out in a desert, I imagine], so she just... doesn't remember her own necessities. More often than not her minions have to drag her to bed in order to get her to stop working on something.

◇ ...She used to have Jonah cook for her. Her food never tasted as good as when he made it for her, so maybe she just resents eating anything else that isn't made by him.

And das all heehoo !!!!!!!

#magocs #my oc stuff #original character #hi guys #borderlands oc #fan character #fan oc #fancharacter #original art #my art #magoriginals #my writing #oc writing #oc writer #writing #long post #lore dump #oc: melaine #shes so hashtag everything. to me #body horror cw #medical experimentation

[inbetweenhours]

What jobs do the character have since their in their twenties and thirties

I believe this was regarding the Digimon au and I had put off answering because I had been in the middle of changing a bunch of their careers around! I still don't have them all figured out but I can give most of them!

Originally all the characters were meant to have techy careers, because it played into the initial plot I had. But then I realized I just,,, didn't want to do that and I changed it so they could have whatever careers worked best to my brain.

I'll put them all below the cut! They're all subject to change though ofc

So here's a screenshot of the sheet:

and I'm just gonna write it al out with some explanation and stuff for funsies.

Okay, so Bdubs has to work with horses he just deserves that. Professional horse girl. I don't have any extra reasoning or specifics, I just think he deserves it.

BigB I'm less sure about. His career has stayed the same from when I gave everyone tech jobs and I'm not sure how to feel about it. He's a Web Designer and he just lies for fun about being a top secret hacker agent because him gaslighting people is really funny... However I'm not sure how much I actually like this real career for him and if I can think of something more relevant to him or to the plot maybe I'll change it. Making him a baker felt like a copout but maybe it is more on brand? Idk. Maybe taking him more on rout with what i have with Martyn where BigB also has a closeness with his memories of the Digital World. His gaslighting stemming from just habitually learning to lie about the experience knowing it wasn't believed and in fact is the closest to having found his connection to the digital world again despite Martyn's fervent efforts....

Etho runs a small local tech repair shop, as suggested by one of my discords! the idea was that he's the local recluse with the small town shop but he really is a wiz. He can fix basically anything he's just insane no one knows how he does it. He's making it work though. this ofc contrasts the fact he has the most insane persona tech setup imaginable.

Scar is playing into the Hotguy bit! he's a TV and Movie celebrity! A former stunt actor, lots of action movies n stuff! Big big name and face :]

Grian is a white hat hacker, also from when everyone had tech jobs. I still kinda like this for him though, the idea of his job being him trying to break things. Really putting a new spin of something being Grian proof lol

Martyn is actually really important! A Feedback Tester for DataStream's Games company! His life has been really guided by his childhood Digimon experience and his closeness to his gaming industry has a lot to do with him holding onto the Digital world and trying to find it again!

Mumbo I admittedly have no idea why I made him a Security Engineer? maybe to do with the vault shenanigans in Season 9? I really don't know, this should maybe change...

Pearl cleaning lady eternal, I love her being the trash lady its so fun <33

Rendog... i have no clue why he's a carpenter. Maybe I change him to do more with television shows, scriptwriting or even just theatre! he needs the enrichment of acting and storytelling hm

Skizz as a dog Trainer was a Suggestion I don't remember the context for either to be honest so It might change unless I can remember why I decided that. I think it was about him being social/friendly/helpful?? But idk. I'm watching him for Hermitcraft10 now so maybe I'll get better ideas.

Scott is a florist! Big 3rd life energy, I love making Scott a florist! He likes pretty things and design and I associate most of his characters with flowers so this felt sweet! Especially since Flower Husbands is kinda important to me and is prevalent to this au for a while...

Jimmy is a ranch hand for very similar reasons to Scott being a florist! He handled the cows a lot in 3rd life, and then later in double life ofc his rancher thing! (Ranchers are also important eventually, potential Flower Ranchers happening) . I also think an emphasis on Jimmy having a connection with caring for animals connects with his own childhood experiences in the Digital World and helps in later adventures :]

Tango designing and running escape rooms was just such a funny idea to me I couldn't not make it real. It also serves a good use later during adventures when they're dealing with puzzles and what are essentially games. His problem solving and designs brain helps a lot in their actual adventures :]

Cleo I really hate making her a teacher to be honest I want to change it. I feel like making her a teacher is a copout just because she used to be a teacher irl? maybe making her a yoga or a gym instructor would be better since it plays into that one skin of hers and her season 8 stuff! Hmmm

Finally, Gem! Pro Valorant Legendary player was mostly a joke, but the general idea is that she is an extremely proficient competitive gamer! She wins like, big competitions and as a good online following! I wouldn't normally make these characters gamers, but I think it works for Gem in the context of the au and will help when she's eventually involved because she, like Martyn, will have good video game knowledge that can help with the adventures!

Joel Lizzie and Impulse I have nothing for. I might've at some point, but evidentially bailed and am back at zero for them :/ i like making Joel an artist of some kind in aus because the Mezalean king being a sculptor and all that, but idk... Need more thinking

Anyways way too long post, thats everything lol

#digimontraffic au #hoursasks #hourspost

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

The Wild Bunch (18 Metal Masters) 1985 Heavy Metal / Thrash Metal / Glam Metal / Progressive Metal / Speed Metal / Hard Rock

Oh man, I swear that I'm about to go to my local thrift store to buy a denim jacket and then tear its sleeves off and start securing patches to it with safety pins after listening to this thing. Back in 1985, the cassette-only, New York-based ROIR label, in conjunction with Hit Parader Magazine, put out this ephemeral mid-80s snapshot of all things metal, from the glam to the prog to the speed to the thrash, and it just goes so satisfyingly hard, you guys 😤👊🤘. If you were a metalhead in the 80s, this feels like something you'd definitely pop into the tape deck of your boxy red sedan and then cruise on into your suburban high school's parking lot with, looking like a total badass with the volume cranked up and the windows rolled down. It's really such a whole goddamn vibe 😎.

A lot of folks rightfully make fun of most of the stupid and inane hair band material that ruled the Sunset Strip back in the 80s, and, outside of the thrashing big four of Metallica, Anthrax, Megadeth, and Slayer—the latter three of whom appear on this album itself—that highly commercialized sound does really seem to have defined what 80s metal was for most people. But the heart of that enormous, MTV-aided boom really occurred a little after the release of this tape, so what you end up getting here is a bunch of sweet tunes that, unless 80s metal is already your domain, you probably haven't ever heard before.

And one really need look no further than this cassette's tone-setting opener for a prime example. "Pull the Trigger," by Seattle's Q5, is just a quintessential piece of some straight-up hard and heavy 1980s rock music if I've ever heard it before. These guys reunited in 2014, but prior to that, they had only managed to put out a pair of albums in the mid-80s. And on this particularly fierce tune from their debut LP, lead singer Jonathan Scott K. sports an impressive and passionately scratchy yell that smacks of a higher-pitched Brian Johnson from AC/DC. And, of course, the song also comes with a kick-ass guitar solo too.

Then, not too long after that, we get another band that also only put out a couple albums in the mid-80s before getting back together: a quintet of speed demons called Agent Steel, whose absolute fit of fury, "Taken by Force," should have you going totally ballistic by the time the back-to-back solos hit. It's just so utterly jaw-dropping what these guys were able to conjure up with all their energy in that one 🤯.

And then another fast gem on here happens to come from—say it with me now—yet another band that only blessed us with a pair of albums in the mid-80s before they ended up reuniting too: LA's Abattoir, who provide a swifter cover of one of speed metal's biggest ever commercial hits, "Ace of Spades," which is originally by the band that many regard to be the first ever in speed metal history, Motörhead. Basically, if you love the original version of this song, I don't really see how you couldn't love this newer one too. It's high-octane fuel for a flying-motorcycle-riding skeleton whose skull is perpetually on fire, which, in other words, means that it's a total banger 🔥.

So, outside of the dumb and tacky hair metal hits that the irony-poisoned side of me really can't help but love, I've never been much in the habit of actually listening to quality 80s metal before. But this little cassette tape here appears to have opened up something of a brand new world for me. I always assumed that there was good 80s metal out there outside of the big four, but I never really seemed to have found much of it; until now 🙂.

Highlights:

Q5 - "Pull the Trigger" Shok Paris - "Marseilles de Sade/Battle Cry" Agent Steel - "Taken by Force" Anthrax - "Metal Thrashing Mad" Megadeth - "Chosen Ones" Abattoir - "Ace of Spades"

#heavy metal #metal #rock #thrash metal #thrash #glam metal #progressive metal #prog metal #speed metal #hard rock #music #80s #80s music #80's #80's music

[fluffy-critter]

#crosspost #busybee

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

So I (finally!) bought a pair of really good noise cancelling headphones, and it has changed my life! It's the fanciest thing I've bought in years, so to recoup some of the cost, I’ve researched & written a little essay based on my experiences with extreme noise sensitivity.

Hypersensitivity to sound is something I’ve dealt with all of my life, but I only recently found out it's medically known a Hyperacusis. (Please note this is a separate condition from Misophonia.) If you consistently struggle to cope with noise, the info below could be helpful! I’m including a link to my ko-fi, and I will be answering questions in the notes.

(skip to the bottom to read fun facts about my tax return and/or street organs vendettas!)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional, this is based solely on my experiences as a patient, and on what I have read and been told by professionals. Please notify me if you have corrections or concerns about accuracy!

BACKGROUND: Sensitivity to sound is a common type of sensory issue. While anyone can experience such issues (most people, for example, might be bothered by loud music in a crowded restaurant), some people are more sensitive than others, to the point it becomes a quality-of-life aka a medical issue.

If you consistently struggle with environmental stimuli that other people aren’t bothered by (background noises, bright lights, certain textures and tastes, etc), to the point it causes daily discomfort or limits the environments you can be in, I recommend reading about Sensory Processing Disorder.

SPD and sound sensitivity are both super common in autistic folks (like me!), but allistic (non-autistic) people can experience them too. Weep, ye prisoners of mortal coil, for none are safe, nothing sacred, not in this thy most accursed tomb of human flesh!

Anyway.

SOUND SENSITIVITY or HYPERACUSIS: Noise issues are particularly difficult to navigate in a world that is increasingly...noisy. The relatively new phenomenon of constant overhead music in restaurants, grocery stores, shopping malls etc—all of this means that public spaces are increasingly inaccessible to people with auditory issues.*

As a kid, nothing quite triggered sensory overload/meltdowns for me like the constant exposure to noise I couldn’t control—the background chatter of other kids in the lunchroom, the constant noise in public spaces, being trapped in the car with the radio on.... I had so many fights with my siblings about the car radio, and who got to choose the music.**

But it’s not just loud sounds that are the problem. As an adult who lives alone and works from home***, I’m lucky enough to be able to avoid loud environments most of the time. This does wonders for my general levels of anxiety and discomfort. But even in a mostly controlled environment, I still experience problems. Because part of sound sensitivity is that even normal or quiet sounds can feel loud and intrusive. Here are some “normal” sounds that can cause me discomfort (ranging from annoyance to outright pain, depending on the day):

refrigerator/AC/ceiling lights humming

dishwasher/washing machine noises

ceiling fan making that damn ceiling fan noise

faint sounds of traffic

riding in a car

other people having a normal conversation in the background

someone talking to me in a perfectly normal inside voice

Unfortunately, even in a “controlled” environment, many triggering noises can’t be controlled. And many parts of life can’t be lived in a controlled environment. This presents...some incredibly freaking annoying problems. Luckily there are solutions!

Sorta.

There are sorta some solutions.

They are imperfect, but they help.

TREATMENT: And now I have something rather shame-faced to admit. In all the years of managing my symptoms, it never once occurred to me to see a hearing specialist for my issues with sound. I wasn’t even aware that treatment options exist, because none of my other doctors mentioned it. Instead, I’ve spent years finding my own coping mechanisms and tools, with help from therapists and psychiatrists, but without ever consulting an audiologist/ENT. It was only while researching this post that I found out that was even an option, holy shit.

So it turns out I am going to be making an appointment with my local ENT practice. shit.

Apparently treatment options include sound/acoustic therapy, systematic desensitization/exposure therapy, cognitive behavior therapy, sound machines, and other options that I had no idea even existed, goddammit.

MANAGEMENT: In the meantime, here are my current coping mechanisms. I’ve relied rather heavily on hearing protection, which is very useful when used in moderation. Unfortunately, it can cause its own problems: it’s important not to overuse hearing protection, because in the long-term this can increase your sensitivity. So again: a useful tool, but be careful not to overdo it.

With that in mind, here are some of the coping strategies I’ve used over the last decade to manage my symptoms. This is not a perfect system and you should contact your local ENT clinic for better, long-term solutions, but in the meantime here are some tips I use to just get myself through the damn day:

Regularly spending time in a quiet controlled environment, to allow my nervous system to decompress.

Wearing earplugs, (I use two different grade, depending on the level of noise prevention I need), and always carrying an extra pair in case I need them unexpectedly. I bought a 50 pack for $7 and put spares in all my bags and jacket pockets.

(I mostly use Mack’s Ultra Soft, but there are so many types and materials and brands, including foam, silicone, wax, custom moldable etc. Even if you have trouble wearing things in your ears, you might be able to find something comfortable.)

Similarly: hearing protection earmuffs, the kind used in gun ranges and on construction sites. I bought mine online for $10. they look like normal wireless headphones, so I've never gotten comments when wearing mine in public (other than “cool heaphones” bc i added skull glitter stickers).

Sometimes I wear the earmuffs on top of earplugs, when life is just too damn LOUD.

Listening to music w/ earbuds or headphones is a great way to balance out background noises, especially if you can find soothing playlists that help you concentrate. Also useful to put in just one earbud when you need to pay attention in class/at work.

Pro tip: if your hair is long enough you can wear wireless earbuds without anyone knowing.

White noise, rain noises, ocean noises etc can be helpful! Some people like whale songs although personally this activates my primal fear response

Active noise cancelling headphones: the reason I wrote this post to begin with—I finally bought a pair! As in, a really good pair! As in, a depressingly expensive pair with noise cancelling technology that actually WORKS, holy shit. I probably need to wear them a little less at home (bc overprotection causes problems in the longterm) but they have absolutely transformed my ability to go out in public and i never ever want to take these suckers off again please take a power screwdriver and nail these to my head, bury me in the sweet sweet shroud of silence. holy canoli and cream puffs I want to marry form a civil partnership with these headphones. Plus they have a bunch of features, like being able to control the level of noise cancellation, so I can hold a conversation or be aware of some ambient noise for safety reasons.

Oh, and also they play music I guess?

Sorry sorry I promise this post wasn’t supposed to be me shilling for Big Electronics. I’m just excited, I’m an excited flabby little ball of expired flubber. ANC headphones aren’t a perfect solution, and I still sometimes wear earplugs underneath, and I will always be uncomfortable some of the time, but for me it’s been a big step.

Unfortunately the cost of good quality ANC technology means this isn’t an option for everyone, and the (much cheaper) gunshot protection earmuffs I mentioned earlier still provide an impressive amount of protection and bang-for-your buck (maybe even an equal amount of protection, if you can find ones that fit well). But if noise consistently prevents you from enjoying public space and life in general, and you’ve already tried earmuffs & earplugs and find they don’t offer enough comfort/convenience/protection, and if you’re in a position to save up for a one time non-necessity purchase of $150+, noise cancelling headphones are an option to be aware of. (Please always check the return policy so you can try before you buy. I ended up buying and returning 2 pairs before finding what worked best for me. And please look for a retailer that offers an extended warranty. You want those motherforkers to last).

There are cheaper options available, including some under $50. The ones I tried didn't work as well as my hearing protection earmuffs, but some people report good experiences, so that is something to consider. it's always good to know your options! Passive noise canceling is another affordable alternative.

Medication: A final tool in my toolbox, which for me personally has helped as much as every other method combined. Like, a lot, it’s helped a lot. It turns out some anti-anxiety medications can also help sensory issues. There’s not much research on this, and I only discovered it firsthand when a medication my doctor prescribed for anxiety ended up significantly helping my sensory issues. I no longer need medication for anxiety, but my psychiatrist still prescribes that same medication off-label for my sensory stuff. Ask your psychiatrist to research your options (they will probably have to do some digging to find relevant research, but you deserve to know all your options, even the obscure ones). Fyi, the medication I use is in the benzodiazepines class, but there are other options for those concerned about dependency or side effects.

(I'm also told anti-anxiety supplements may be helpful, though I haven't tried this yet. If you're on prescription meds, always talk to your doctor about contraindications before taking anything over-the-counter.)

So there you have it, my main coping strategies for sound sensitivity! They are not a replacement for medical treatment (except that last one which is in fact...medical treatment), but I find them helpful and I hope some of you will too! I’ve struggled for a long time, and I’m very pleased to have reached the point where I can just do things in public. Eating out in loud restaurants? I can do that now, and even enjoy it, holy shit! I can comfortably travel in cars for hours at a time, and walk around shopping malls and grocery stores with overhead music, and, and —and just exist. It is so so freeing, to feel like maybe, after everything, you are actually allowed to just exist in a world that wasn’t really designed for you.

Again, be careful not to overuse hearing protection—the goal is to allow you to be less uncomfortable and to function better, but if you find you are becoming more sensitive to noise, it is time to dial it back a notch. Or maybe consider listening to music (at a reasonable volume) to block out background noise instead.

*(This also includes people with hearing loss and related issues, btw. While that’s not my area of knowledge, I would welcome it if any of my HoH followers want to share their experiences.)

**A sign of sensory issues that parents often miss is when a child complains about music being too loud—but has no problem listening to their own music at high volume. This is because music that is already familiar to the listener (and that the listener enjoys) is much easier for the brain to process, since it knows what pattern of sounds to expect. Loud music that they get to control can be soothing for people with sound issues, especially when it blocks out background noise and sensations. This is why repetitively playing the same songs can be a helpful form of stimming.

***(working on this blog, actually. since it’s my only source of income, my 2020 income tax return literally lists my occupation as ‘Tumblr Blogger.’ Oddly, my parent didn’t feel this achievement was worth including in the holiday family newsletter.)

bonus fun fact: Charles Babbage aka “father of the computer” may have been autistic and hypersensitive to sound. He definitely had a huge problem with public noise pollution, and spent his later year waging a war on street musicians (and organ grinders in particular).

(bc like, yeah. screw organ grinders.)

Sometimes when I’m out in public and the overhead music is particularly unbearable, I’ll take a moment to look up to the sky and scream out: “HE TRIED TO WARN US! THE FATHER OF COMPUTERS TRIED TO WARN US!!! we should have listened, sweet heaven we should have listened!”

except i don’t scream it, i say it very quietly under my breath

(i have issues with noise)

so yeah that is my short essay. and here is the ko-fi goal

k ciao i gotta go pick out glitter stickers for my headphones

#actuallyautistic #not a shitpost #holy shit how did i spend 3 hours writing this what even is my blog #this blog is supposed to be blue whale anxiety and uncomfortably sexy clown jokes #what am i doing #sensory processing disorder #sensory issues #mental health #actually autistic #NOTIFY ME OF ANY TYPOS #i proofread this 5 times my eyes weep an unceasing flood of blood and regret #adhd #actuallyadhd #autism #sensory problems

[lavendersuh]

jaemin x reader | 70′s roller rink au | fluff | 2.8k words 

part of @nct-writers neo’clock event! 

warnings: none

summary: its the era of disco balls and groovy tunes, and you love working at your local roller skating rink. if only na jaemin wasn’t there to annoy you all the time.

note: hi friends!! i recently started roller skating this summer and it’s been so fun!! i finally was able to go to a roller rink (i masked up i promise!) but i wrote this beforehand while i was yearning to go haha. it was so fun and skating makes me so happy. i don’t think i’ve seen many roller skating aus so i hope you all enjoy!!

“Hey! Will you stop going the wrong way? I have kids learning to skate and you’re getting in their way!” 

You huff out a heavy breath from your exercise. It’s always tiring to teach young kids to roller skate, but you enjoy the smiles it brought to their faces. One day soon they would be able to easily join the adults that waltzed across the shiny wooden floors. 

Your job at the local roller rink is perfect. You love the smoky atmosphere and the big disco ball. You love hearing the latest groovy songs play over the speakers. You love being able to zoom around in your favorite bell bottom jeans and best pair of skates. 

What you don’t enjoy is annoying boys that obnoxiously skate around the rink. 

You look back at the boy in question. It isNa Jaemin, of course. The boy has been the bane of your existence since he came to the rink for the first time a little over two weeks ago. 

Na Jaemin, with his blonde hair and constant grin, always so cocksure about everything. You had to admit, he’s an incredible skater, but you could never admit that to him. 

Especially when he is doing everything in his power to annoy you at the present moment.

“Are you even qualified to teach people how to skate?” he asks, with narrow eyes, “Can you even go backwards?”

You know he’s just teasing, just trying to get a rise out of you, and you fall so easily into his trap every time.

“Of course I can go backwards Jaemin! That’s not what I’m teaching right now though!” you reply. 

“Well then, I can do a demonstration!” 

“Jaemin, no.”

“Jaemin, yes.”

You let out a sigh as you watch him show off in front of the kids. They were a nice little bunch, but they were easily distracted, especially when the distraction was putting on such a show. 

Once again, you knew, it would be a long night.

Not even a week later, you encounter the nuisance again. Tonight, someone that usually works the food counter called off, meaning you’re stuck making hot dogs and grabbing bottles of cola for a bunch of little kids and teenagers. It wasn’t the worst job, but it certainly wasn’t your favorite. 

Especially since you can’t just skate away when Jaemin comes around to annoy you.

You spot him skating around the rink with a few of his buddies, doing laps around the younger kids. You can’t help but roll your eyes. 

The last you recalled, Jaemin never ordered much from the food counter when he was at the rink, so you assume he won’t bother you tonight. You couldn’t be more wrong.

You were back behind the pretzel machine when someone came up to the counter, ringing the bell to get your attention.

“I’ll be right there!” you call out, “What can I get for you?”

“A second of your time perhaps?”

You whip your head around to see Jaemin standing at the counter, a cheesy smile across his face. His hair is ruffled and wild, and he seems to be breathing a bit heavy from the exercise he was just doing.

You huff as you walk over to him, “Jaem, if you’re just going to annoy me, go away. Do you actually want any food?” 

He doesn’t miss the small nickname that crosses your lips, but he doesn’t have time to think too hard about it. As always, he is on a mission. 

“I wanted to show you my new skates!” he says, moving backwards a bit to show you the new boots, “Nice wheels, right?”

You can���t help the snort of amusement that comes out. The skates are bright yellow, with orange wheels and laces. They certainly will stand out under the glow of the neon lights and the disco ball over the wooden rink.

He starts moonwalking around in front of you, and you can’t help but marvel with a smile of your own at the skates and the silly boy in front of you. He must catch you staring, because he breaks you out of your trance by coming closer.

He says , “I wonder how fast I’ll be able to go in them.”

He bounds off towards the rink, zipping around the people on his new wheels. He looks back over to see if you are watching, causing a triumphant grin to grace his face when he realizes he still has your attention. 

The only problem is, with his eyes on you instead of where he’s going, he nearly runs into an older lady, and quickly diverts his course to keep from crashing into her. His new skates take him directly towards the wall, sending him on a collision course with concrete. 

His fall is anything but graceful, as his friends laugh at him. You also let out a chuckle of your own at the silly boy who will do anything for even an ounce of attention.

It is once again the end of a long day, and the quiet of the rink surrounds you. The music is turned off, and you’re the last one here, finishing up some cleaning before you finally go home. 

You always loved being the last one at the rink. The roller rink was constantly alive with lots of people, lots of sounds, lots of activity. It was calming to be the only one, skating around the rink with a broom to wipe down the surface. 

As you are making your way around the outside of the rink one last time, you hear a loud noise near the entrance to the building. You can’t help but grip the broom a little tighter, before you see Jaemin come through the door.

He glides over to the opening of the rink, his boombox in his hand. You do nothing but stare as he sets it up on the ground, pressing play before starting to skate. Finally he acknowledges your presence with a casual wave, like he isn’t here after hours or anything.

“What do you think you are doing?” you ask. “The rink closed ten minutes ago, and aren’t you tired? You were here all night.”

You couldn’t ignore the slip up you made, realizing you let it slip that you were aware of his presence all night. You didn’t need him thinking you were looking at him a lot, because you weren’t. Ever. 

“I like skating to my own tunes.” he says, as nonchalant as ever. 

He apparently doesn’t see a problem with the way things are unfolding, and you let out a huff. 

“Oh my god, I’m trying to clean the floor! Can’t you just come back tomorrow?”

“Aw, so eager to see me again?” he smiles as he makes his way to you, “Anyways, I can help!”

He takes your broom, skating around while casually sweeping. You might not have brand new skates like him, but you easily catch up to him, snatching it back.

Why was he even here? Just like you had pointed out, he had been here all night. What was keeping him from going home like the rest of the crowd?

“Go, Jaemin!” you exclaim out of annoyance, “And take your annoying boombox with you!”

His face morphs into a pout at this, “You turned off the music, what was I supposed to do?” 

“Go home?”

You glide over to the portable machine producing the loud disco music, turning off the switch. You manage to pick it up, shoving the boombox towards Jaemin.

“Jaemin, I’m begging you, go home! I can’t clean if you are still here, and I want to go home, too.”

He must see the exhausted look in your eye behind all of your annoyance, because he rolls over to you.

Jaemin grabs his boombox again, “Am I too much of a distraction if I sit on the bench?”

He gestures to the bench just outside of the rink, where little kids often tied their laces. For some reason, he just doesn’t want to leave, so you nod your head. 

He sits down, and turns on his boombox again while doing so. He turns the volume down lower, and looks out at you, jokingly saluting you in a promise to not be bothersome. 

You roll your eyes, finally resuming your cleaning. 

As you clean, Jaemin talks aimlessly. He talks about his classes at the local university next fall, and about how he just can’t figure out how to land a specific jump on his skates. 

While you were reluctant to let him stay, his presence ends up being really nice. His voice is soft as it fills the empty building, and as you both walk out to your cars after locking up, you are grateful to have someone by your side. 

It feels a little weird that you are having nice thoughts about the boy who is constantly a pain in your side, but you ignore the slight upbeat in your heart rate when he bids you goodnight.

You throw him a smile as you get into your car, “Goodnight, Jaem.”

It is once again a slow Tuesday night, and you are almost about ready to fall asleep at the admissions counter. Every so often you are assigned a shift in the ticket lobby, which you don’t mind typically. On a weekend day, you would be busy taking care of admissions for people as they came and went.

The rink is not busy today. 

And you’re about to doze off. 

You sigh. The one day you don’t have a book or a newspaper or any homework to do. 

You find yourself brushing off invisible dust from your new vest and turtleneck outfit when you hear the door chime, signaling a new customer. You look up from your seat.

Of course, it is Na Jaemin.

“Hey, are you stuck out here today?” he asks, his skate laces tied together to rest over his left shoulder.

“Yeah, it's so boring tonight, kinda empty too, but at least that means you won’t plow into a sixth grader again.” you smile.

“That was one time!” he says, also grinning at the memory.

He pulls out some money for admission and you hand him the paper wristband to show he paid and brought his own skates. Just as he is about to walk through the door to get to the rink, he pauses.

“Hey, uh, what’s your favorite song to skate to?” 

“Huh?”

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck. He tries to explain his reasoning, “Maybe if I play it on my boombox, you won’t make me turn it off.”

You let out a chuckle, “I’ll still probably make you turn it off.”

“Y/N, can you please just answer the question?” Jaemin seems serious now.

And while you are taken aback by the change from his normally aloof demeanor, you clear your throat, “Okay, umm, I really love that new movie Grease, right now. Have you seen it? There’s this one song that’s kinda slow, ‘Hopelessly Devoted to You,’ and it’s really pretty and fun to just skate around the rink to.”

You flush out of embarrassment for the cheesy song choice, but Jaemin nods with a smile. You ignore your traitorous heart reminding you that you had definitely played your Grease soundtrack cassette tape a few too many times since meeting Jaemin. There was definitely no correlation. 

“That song is nice.” he says, before turning away and heading into the rink, leaving you alone at the ticket counter once again. 

A few days later you once again are stuck at the ticket counter. And finally, your shift is over. The ticket counter was nice every once in a while, but you feel tired of standing there, especially more than once in a week. You much preferred the satisfying exhaustion that came from being on wheels for your entire shift. 

The staff has mostly gone home, even your boss who just needed to lock up the cash office. You had offered to lock up the building after he left, since you felt like skating for a bit before going home. 

There is something about skating on the wooden floor when no one else is around. It is entirely quiet, with the music turned off, just the sound of your wheels spinning., And peaceful, with the air clear of cigarette smoke and loud screams of children playing. It was calming.

Your calm is interrupted by soft music coming from near the entrance. It’s only when you see Jaemin’s face and his stupidly large boombox that you realize what song it is. 

Your favorite song.

You can’t help the goofy smile that spreads across your face as he skates over, leaving the boombox on the ledge of the rink wall, coming over to you as ‘Hopelessly Devoted to You,’ echoes throughout the building.

He’s mouthing the lyrics as he skates to you, his eyes bright with mischief and something else that you can’t quite place. 

“Hey,” he says once he’s finally in front of you, “Can I join? It seemed a little quiet in here.”

For some reason, this flusters you, as you look at his ruffled hair and jean jacket. “Uh, yeah sure.”

With your approval, he begins skating, beckoning you to follow him. The song ends, but starts up again, and you give Jaemin a questioning look.

“I made a mixtape of this song on loop a couple of times,” he says, running a hand through his hair leisurely, like that’s the most normal thing in the world for someone to do. “It’s nice right?”

It makes you smile regardless. The two of you skate around for a bit, simply going around the rink as you would if lots of people were there. It’s comfortable, you realize, with just the two of you all alone. 

Finally on the third loop of the song, Jaemin comes a little closer, and grabs your hand quickly, as if unsure that he is able to do that. You squeeze his hand in reassurance.

It’s strange, wherever this night is going, but you can’t remember a time that you seemed happier to be at the rink. 

“I recall you mentioning you can skate backwards, yes?” Jaemin asks, after a few moments.

“Yes, of course—” you begin, but stop talking when he spins you to skate backwards in front of him, causing you to let out a slight squeal at the change.

It’s almost like dancing in a way, as he pushes the two of you forward around the rink and you impulsively grip his shoulders to make sure you can keep your balance. 

Eventually, the two of you slow down, and he leads a few spins, which sends laughter through the air and chills down your spine. It's hard to believe just a few weeks ago this boy was the most annoying pain in your side. 

The boombox finally goes quiet after its few repeats of the song, and the building is plunged into silence again, as you stand in front of Jaemin with a small smile and a sweaty complexion. 

The neon lights glow around you and Jaemin’s face turns serious. He readjusts his grip on your waist, sliding ever so slightly closer to you. 

“I’m sorry I was an asshole at the beginning.” he says, just above a whisper to be heard by only you, “I didn’t know how else to get your attention. Finally I changed the plan to this, and I think it’s working out better.”

“The plan?” you ask, your brain cloudy from his proximity.

He has the nerve to look bashful, making his face even more cuter, “I’ve, uh, kinda liked you for a while, and I needed a plan to tell you and see if you felt the same.” 

You smile, moving your left hand from his shoulder to his jawline, stroking his cheeky tenderly. Every piece of him that you touch leaves a burning feeling within your heart, and you finally are thinking you know how to fix it.

With a bold move like when he picked up your hand, you touch your lips to his, letting them sit there for a moment. It’s a chaste kiss, leaving Jaemin to decide what to do next.

He deepens the kiss, smiling as he fully wraps his arms around you and keeps you from sliding away by using his toe stops. 

The disco ball overhead isn’t turning anymore, and the music that typically fills the roller rink isn’t playing, but you’ve never found the rink more spectacular in your life. It’s not the atmosphere of the rink that you love, but the people within.

And right now, the person in front of you is your favorite.

#nct-writers #neoclock #neo-constellations #neothestars #jaemin x reader #jaemin x you #jaemin #nct fanfic #nct x reader #nct scenarios #jaemin scenarios #nct dream #nct #nct dream x reader #jaemin fluff #nct dream fluff #fluff #my writing

[rissynicole]

DTIYS Contest Prize: Rllyaangrlly

Here is the first of the one-shots promised to the three winners of the DTIYS event I put on recently. (Thank you guys for being patient with me, btw. I’m a very slow writer, and you’re seeing it in action). Just as the title states, this one is for @rllyaangrlly, based on her requests. 

This was a ton of fun and gave me an opportunity to not only shake some writing rust, but work with topics I don’t normally explore. More than anything, I was able to try to emulate the vibes Brit gives these characters in her own art/writing. I wish I had a better word for it, but I’ve always felt like Brit has a certain “aesthetic” with the IZ characters through her drawing style, the situations she puts them in, and her overall portrayal of their personalities. I’ve always adored it, and it was an honor to be able to try my hand at writing it. 

Story is under the cut.

Characters: Dib, Zim, Gaz

Relationships: ZaGr, ZaDf

Warnings: minor injuries

Words: 3,706

Absurdity

The car’s engine and the drone of its wheels on the highway were the only sounds that passed between the three. The radio hadn’t been turned on, and no one had the gall nor the desire to change that. Not Zim, who was turned almost completely towards the window in the passenger seat, nor Gaz in the backseat. They drove along in heavy silence as Dib stared stonily ahead of him at the stretch of road, hands gripping the wheel numbly.

Dating. They’re… dating.

The idea was positively absurd to him. Not only did it feel weirdly out of the realm of possibility, but it felt wrong, somehow. Like some sort of tasteless prank. When Zim had told him, he’d half expected the camera crew from Punk’d to come parading around the corner, led by Ashton Kutcher, to point and laugh at the look on Dib’s face. “Can you believe it?! Your best friend—alien best friend—and your little sister! You totally fell for it!”

That almost would have been better. Cruel and mortifying, maybe, but better. At least then, he wouldn’t be sitting behind the wheel of the car trying to make sense of it while the two pretended not to notice from inches away. But it wasn’t a prank. Hell, Dib wasn’t famous enough to be on Punk’d anyway. Maybe someday… but not today.

A little part of him had high hopes for the series of paranormal investigation videos he and Zim had strung together. Lately, that little part of him had stopped feeling so childish, too. Their following had risen significantly over the last few months, gaining more and more traction as people tuned in. Suddenly, their modest little support net of viewers was in the hundreds. Then the thousands. Then the hundred-thousands. Truth be told, Zim and Dib hadn’t really come across anything of substance in their investigations, but their newer viewers weren’t exactly around for solid proof of the paranormal, anyway. It hadn’t taken long for the two to realize that most of the channel’s appeal came from the dripping sarcasm and witty banter directed at one another.

“Chemistry” was an apt word, and it got thrown around a lot. Zim and Dib, quite by accident, had become the up-and-coming best friend duo in the paranormal community. And with each new investigation, they garnered more and more recognition.

That’s where they were headed now, towards Ottawa National Forest to investigate the latest hot spot Dib’s research had led him to. The “Paulding Light” was a strange phenomenon, appearing in a single spot in the woods and taking form of a bright glow before fading off into the darkness of the night. Though plenty of locals could attest to having seen it, no one could feasibly explain it. Dib was determined to catch it on camera. Or at least he had been, before Zim had dropped the bomb on him right before leaving the house.

Dating. They’re… dating.

His thoughts rounded back, and he felt his hands readjust themselves on the steering wheel. Behind him, Gaz sighed quietly and cross her legs. He almost swore he could sense her and Zim exchange a glance through the rearview mirror, but he really had no way of knowing. He didn’t really want to know.

Dating.

“What’s the exit?” he asked, jarring them all back to reality.

Zim paused before answering. “It’s a couple down. Not this one, but the next.”

They returned to silence. Even as Dib’s blinkers resounded through the car and they exited off the highway. Even as the smooth highway turned to bumpy asphalt, then later, dirt roads.

At last, Zim spoke. “Dib—”

“I’m not mad,” he interrupted. “I’m just…I don’t know what I am. I need to process this. Just…” He trailed off, his mouth a thin line.

Zim and Gaz glanced at each other through the rearview again.

Eventually, they pulled into a dirt lot and spilled out of the little hatchback, glad for a break in the tension that had been all-consuming throughout the entire car ride. Gaz leaned back, popping her joints before heading to the trunk of the car where the camping supplies and camera equipment was. Zim took over, gathering it up and taking inventory of what they had brought along.

Just as before, everything was done without a word. No one really knew what to say. Gaz and Zim were giving Dib his space, and the latter still seemed to be at a loss. Driving hadn’t really cleared his head as he’d lamely claimed it would; it’d just made him more flustered.

Before long, they were off. The hike through the woods was only marginally less uncomfortable than the car ride had been, but the open air helped. Dib led the way, walking along the dimming trail as dusk settled in. The plan was to find a place to set up camp near the area where the Paulding Light supposedly made its appearance. Then, they’d hike again—this time under the cover of darkness—with the cameras rolling.

As the daylight slowly dissipated and the cool air settled in, Gaz paused to unhook her backpack from around her shoulders. Her jacket was inside, probably balled up beneath all the other crap she’d packed for this little excursion. Before she could even get her bag unzipped, though, Zim handed her his own sweatshirt.

She glanced up, and a wordless argument passed between them.

Now you’re going to be cold, her glare told him.

He gave her a challenging, almost haughty glance in return. Just put it on. I’m fine.

Gaz huffed a little and rolled her eyes, but ultimately acquiesced. She bunched it up and pulled it over her head. It was an overlarge navy hoodie with their college name and emblem branded on the front in bright, almost obnoxious yellow font. Zim had been wearing it almost religiously since October had arrived and the first freeze of the year had swept through their neighborhood.

When her face appeared at the neckline, she made brief accidental eye contact with Dib. He averted his eyes quickly. His mouth was still in that tight, thin line.

They continued on, walking until they’d found a suitable place to set up camp. Just as agonizingly silent as before, they set to tidying up the area, pulling out their sleeping bags, and taking inventory of the food they’d brought.

At this, Zim reached into one of the backpacks, eyes lighting up at a bag of jumbo marshmallows. Gaz slapped it away, all pretenses forgotten for a second. “Knock it off. We still have to film,” she said.

He snagged one anyway, popping it in his mouth defiantly before chuckling at her wavering attempt at a serious expression. They locked eyes for a moment, and then Gaz finally dropped it and began laughing along with him.

Dib cleared his throat.

They both turned and looked at him, smiles dropping instantly.

“Let’s get going,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking up at the smattering of stars up ahead. “You have the camera, Gaz?”

She nodded and held it up.

Dib did his best to not look behind him at Gaz and Zim as they walked on. Suddenly, any playful or even amicable interaction between them had taken on a whole new meaning. Because it wasn’tjust amicable.

Dating. They’re… dating.

It made him feel like the last few months had been a lie. It wasn’t just him, his sister, and his best friend anymore. It was him, his sister, and his sister’s boyfriend.

He visibly shuddered as he stepped over a fallen tree branch. Ugh, he didn’t want to think about that.

About a mile in, they began to hear running water. Sure enough, only about five minutes later they came upon a fallen tree that spanned about the width of the trail. Some quick observation showed that it was acting as a sort of bridge over a shallow stream about five or six feet below.

“I guess this is sturdy enough,” Dib muttered, testing the strength of the log. He peered over the edge at the water. At this point, night had fallen proper. A small slice of moon illuminated the sky, casting down on the stream. Dark water glinted here and there as it passed over rocks.

He began to walk over it, arms held out for balance. He hadn’t said much at all, despite Gaz currently filming. She held the camera up anyway, sighing inwardly.

What a waste this trip was. Who the hell would want to watch a video of Dib moodily wandering through the woods all night?

As for Zim, he had hardly uttered a word, either. And he was usually the comic relief of their little program. The fact that Zim was quiet wasn’t just bizarre; it was unsettling.

Zim stepped up on the log, followed by Gaz, who was still holding the camera out in front of herself. The disproportionate weight made her lose her balance for a moment, which was then exacerbated when the entire log rocked along with her. On instinct, Zim reached out and caught her by the wrist.

Dib turned, still halfway across their little bridge over the stream. He glanced at the two blankly. Then, his eyes narrowed. Even in the darkness, the intensity of his glare met Zim’s eyes.

“Would it kill you to not fondle my sister in the middle of the night while we’re trying to film?” Dib muttered.

“What are you talking about, Earth-stink?” It was clear Zim’s already-thin patience was running dry. These days, nearly a decade after arriving on earth, he only pulled out the immature nicknames when he on the verge of arguing.

Dib simply gesticulated at Zim’s hand, still grasping Gaz’s wrist. Zim looked at him incredulously and then let go of her.

“Dib…” Gaz growled, “You’re acting like an asshole.”

I’m acting like an asshole?!” he said, the hours of tension suddenly bubbling to the surface. “You’re the one who decided to… to…” He was at a loss for words.

Gaz darkened nonetheless, eyes glinting. “I didn’t ‘decide’ to do anything! And if I knew you were just going to sulk the whole time, I would have stayed the fuck home! Do I even have to remind you that I do this shit as a favor to you?” She waved the camera in front of her, and Dib paled at both her words and the prospect of it slipping from her grip and into the stream several feet below them. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t even want to go camping right after my midterms?”

“A favor for me, sure!” Dib shot back. Maybe some people could be perfectly silent for hours on end and be perfectly calm. His temper had never allowed for that. He was speaking without thinking, and he could feel it. It still didn’t stop the word-vomit from coming. “You sure it’s a favor for me and not a favor for your little boyfriend over there?”

He gestured vaguely towards the “boyfriend” in question, who’s face was beginning to match Gaz’s. Before Zim could open his mouth, though, Gaz lunged forward, right into Dib’s face. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut the fuck up right now!”

The fallen tree they were balanced on began to rock a little, and Zim’s eyes went wide as he clambered to keep his footing. “Gaz—”

“Stay out of it, Zim!”

“I will not!” he shot back. “Not when you’re both acting like complete—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. The log rocked again, and this time, Gaz’s balance didn’t withstand. The little hand-held camcorder slipped from her grasp, and she instinctively lurched towards it with her hands outstretched. Zim, operating on the same instinct, tried to catch her again. His foot slipped out from under him along with a crumbling of tree bark that had split off the log

“W-woah!” Dib shouted. His eyes bulged from behind his glasses. He reached for both of them, catching the sleeve of Gaz’s hoodie and Zim’s arm to try to keep them from falling over the side. He only succeeded in making the sorry excuse for a bridge rock yet again. At that point, it seemed, the log decided it was no longer interested in keeping three fully grown adults upright and out of the water. It rocked, crumbled, and then slipped from where it had been wedged between the two ends of the hiking trail.

Dib, Zim, and Gaz went tumbling off. High, clipped shouts preceding their fall, then a series of splashing.

The water below was cold, but not terribly so. It was a shallow, slow-moving stream. Almost more of an inconvenience than anything. Even so, the drop was high enough that Dib landed on the balls of his feet, skidded out, and skinned both elbows as he fell clumsily onto his rump.

He groaned, cupping one scraped elbow in his palm. Already beginning to internally bemoan his soaking-wet clothes, he turned to Gaz. His anger was beginning to return to him in place of shock.

“Great. That’s a new camera down the fucking drain.”

Instead of an onslaught of choice words back at him, however, Gaz didn’t respond. She wasn’t even looking in his direction. Instead, she was turned away, hunched over something in the darkness. It took him a moment to realize what she was doing. At her feet, Zim’s body was lying halfway in the stream, completely motionless.

Gaz whipped around to look at Dib, soggy tendrils of hair stuck to her cheeks. She no longer looked angry. “I think he hit his head. Help me get him out of here!”

Dib’s eyes widened, and without thinking, he hurried around Gaz’s other side, grabbing Zim’s shoulder and hauling him to the grassy bank a few feet away. “Is he okay?” he shouted.

“I don’t know. Move!” She dropped to her knees in front of him. His wig sat like a sodden mop on his head, and she pulled it off before it could burn his scalp any more than it had. The worry she so evidently felt was plastered all over her face. Even in the darkness, Dib could see it. He was worried, too, but it was strange to see it so plainly on Gaz of all people. She had always been the more level-headed of the two, and seeing her normally morose, carefully composed poker-face fall away so quickly made Dib feel like he’d entered some alternate dimension.

Seconds later, Zim came around. With a moan, his eyelids fluttered open to reveal one contact and one overbright pink eye.

Gaz didn’t fuss or wring her hands, but she sighed noticeably in relief, then began asking him questions. (What is your name? Where are you right now?)

Zim answered in turn, seemingly fine. His hand wrapped around to the back of his head to absently massage at a growing bump, though. He groaned again and sat up.

“You need to get out of those clothes,” Dib said. He could hear a distant sizzling—the awful sound of water against Zim’s skin. Even in their days of mortal rivalry, that sound had always had a visceral effect that could pierce through any bluster and leave Dib cringing inwardly.

Gaz nodded her head in agreement. “Come on,” she said. She rose to her feet, then helped Zim up.

“I’m fine. This isn’t the first time this has happened on this filthy planet,” he muttered. The fire that had been in his voice just moments before had been snuffed out. He tugged at his soggy clothing and scratched at the rashes that were beginning to form on his arms and torso.

Before Dib had time to realize what was happening, they were walking ahead of him back to their camp. Gaz was leading the way this time. Zim managed to keep up, wincing in pain occasionally.

When they got back, Gaz beelined to Zim’s bags. While he ducked behind some brush and changed into new clothes, she pulled out a small first aid kit with the Irken insignia printed on the outside.

“He’ll need the—” Dib started. He stopped when he saw Gaz pull out the exact tube of antibiotic cream he had been about to gesture towards. She glanced at the Irken characters—Irken characters Dib hadn’t known she could read—and opened it.

“Can you hand me the bandages from your bag?” she asked.

Dib shot her a weird look but reached for the bandages anyway. “You know, his PAK heals him pretty quickly. I don’t think he even really needs them.”

“Yeah, but bandaging it up makes him whine about it less,” she said. She tried to hide the smile that had begun to form on her lips.

Dib handed it over and began to build a fire for the three of them.

Zim returned then, dressed in clean, dry clothes. While Gaz helped treat and bandage the worst of the burns, Dib kept silent. This time, however, it wasn’t out of whatever conglomerate of frustration he’d been feeling earlier. He was watching his sister coyly.

Gaz was not the maternal type. Throughout their entire lives, Gaz’s words and actions had been laced in a gruff sort of outer layer that warned others she was not to be trifled with. She kept her circle small and very rarely expressed any emotion other than cool apathy or outright anger.

The way she was acting towards Zim was a far cry from her normal self. Dib had only ever seen her like this on a handful of other occasions. When those memories drifted to him and he realized the common denominator, he suddenly felt uneasy. The tenderness in which she wrapped Zim’s forearm was with the same silent, admonishing tenderness she’d shown Dib when he’d gotten injured during his own idiotic exploits over the years.

Meanwhile, Zim sat slumped against a tree, letting her bandage him up without a fuss. While he was making an attempt at nonchalance, it was clear he was practically falling asleep where was sitting.

That was another little thing Gaz seemed to either know already or manage to take in stride: something about injuries made Zim unusually tired afterwards. For as long as Dib had known him, he’d been this way. Dib had deducted it was because his PAK was using more energy than usual, and Zim had more or less confirmed it. Even so, it was rather unsettling to see anyone sustain an injury and then drop off to sleep moments later like a narcoleptic.

That’s precisely what Zim was doing now, now. As soon as Gaz finished with the last bandage, she shook his shoulder to wake him. With the last of his energy, he shuffled to his sleeping bag and practically faceplanted onto it. Within seconds, he had dropped off to sleep.

Gaz patted his hand.

Dating, Dib thought yet again.

It was absurd. That was the only way he could put it. It didn’t make any sense. Almost…almost as absurd as the idea of him being friends with Zim in the first place.

He frowned and began to pull at the loose strings of a bracelet he’d worn on his wrist for the last year or so. Zim had an almost identical one that he, too, never removed.

Hadn’t there been a time when he couldn’t imagine himself being anything but Zim’s enemy? And now they were almost inseparable. If he could get used to that, why couldn’t he get used to this?

He glanced down at the bracelet and sighed. “You really care about him, don’t you?” he said finally.

Gaz glanced up, her face guarded. “I wouldn’t be with him if I didn’t.”

“And he treats you well?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?” She made a face, but it wasn’t entirely hostile. “I wouldn’t be with him if he didn’t.”

Dib’s eyes fell on Zim, who was snoring lightly. He didn’t doubt that. “Okay,” he said through another exhale.

“‘Okay,’ what?” Gaz said, raising a brow. “I don’t need your ‘blessing,’ Dib. I just want—”

“—No, no, no. I don’t mean it that way,” Dib said quickly, “I mean ‘okay,’ I will get used to this. And I’ll stop being such an asshole.” He quirked his lip upward in a humorless smile at the last part. “I’m sorry, Gaz. I could have handled that a lot better, and I didn’t.”

She pulled her knees to her chest and stared into the crackling fire. “Apology accepted.”

Zim began to stir then, one hand reaching out to scratch at his bandages.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Gaz said softly, taking the hand and moving it away. She made to rifle through their bags but was stopped when Zim’s hand closed around hers. He held her in place and began to murmur incoherently.

Gaz smiled; a sweet, serene smile Dib very rarely saw. “Just give me a minute,” she told Zim. She squeezed his hand and pulled away, unzipping the bag closest to her and retrieving what she was looking for—the marshmallows Zim had been after earlier.

She pressed one into his palm, and his fingers wrapped around it groggily.

Over the next hour, he slowly came out of whatever fog his PAK had put him through as it worked to heal him. By morning, the irritated rashes from the water would be gone and the bump on his head would be nothing but a distant memory.

Not for the first time, Dib thought about how strange Irkens were.

Over the rest of the night, the three gathered around the fire, roasting marshmallows. Even through the lulls in conversation, the tension that had practically been a permanent fixture earlier was gone. Instead, they slipped into their new dynamic. A dynamic that was, as Dib had claimed, absurd. But when hadn’t it been? Not when Zim had first arrived on Earth. Not when years and events had passed them by, and enmity had melded to friendship. And not now.

Absurdity was their specialty, and they were learning to wear it proudly.

~The End~

#invader zim #dtiysparade contest prizes #zagr #zadf #my writing #rllyaangrlly

[unmaskedagain]

Raise yourselves up (We’re done)

Two prompts in one; let’s do this. I tweaked the ideas a bit though.

 It was Bustier who broke the news to Marinette and Chloe, and she did it once again the most inappropriate fashion, “-And so the class feels it would be best if both of you were excluded from the class trip at the end of the year.” She finished. The class was just about to let out and she told the two girls in front of them all.

There were mean snickers and smug looks from the other students. The ones who just avoid the girls’ gazes; Adrien, Juleka, and Rose. The three had decided to stay out of it and just side with the majority. Marinette and Chloe had become best friends after Lila had gotten her hooks into class the year before. She turned all of Marinette’s dearest friends to ex-friends and turned them into bullies. That was fine with Marinette. She was done with two-faced people; done with turn-coats, and cowards. Marinette didn’t need them. Or want them. Chloe at least had the guts to stand on her own two feet and for what she believed in. It was a new year and a new Marinette.

Neither blond nor bluenette blinked.

“That’s fine,” Marinette shrugged. “It will be a relief not to have to fundraise for the trip.”

Chloe smirked, “Ditto. A trip to New York City, completely unfunded by the school, is going to be a lot to pay for.”

“They’ll have plenty of time though,” Marinette hummed. “A little less than a year.” The two girls cast them cool looks, “Good luck!” They chimed as the bell rang.

No one understood why they didn’t react the way they thought. Alya had expected tears from Marinette. Rage from Chloe. Then apologies and promises to do better. In fact, they all did. But they didn’t get it. Instead, they were left wondering why the two girls laughed their way out of the classroom.

It would take them months to realize.

Both girls knew though. Chloe always managed to convince her parents to fund thirty percent of whatever grand trip the class took every year. Marinette managed to put together enough amazing fundraisers to raise sixty percent of the funds needed. Everyone else in class only ever managed to pull together the last ten percent. Barely.

The next day the brand new World Travelers’ Club announced their formation and invited anyone to join. A few members of the class perked up until they heard Marinette and Chloe were the presidents. Instead, the class bashed the club and joked it was the girls’ lame attempt at making friends.

That was the last they heard of the club.

To the rest of the students of Bustier’s class’s credit, they attempted right away to start fundraising plans. However, no one in the class knew just when they should start and no one had any unique ideas; they only had a car cash fundraiser, the usual bake sale, maybe a raffle. Standard stuff they were sure would work. After Marinette, the former class president, and resident bully as far as they were concerned, always started off with those. Never realizing that she only started out with them at the very beginning of the year, and never stopped there. Nor did they realize just how much planning went into each event.

 The class's first event was a car wash in November. It was a poor idea, as the weather had begun to take a turn for the worst and barely any cars showed up. They hosted it at the school figuring people would want to help out school children. Nino played music. And all the friends had a blast. But the kids made a total of 143 dollars a days’ worth of work. They vowed their next fundraiser would be better.

During the two months, Marinette and Chloe and the rest of the World Travelers’ club; Kagami, Claude, Aurore, Marc, Luka, Ondine, and a bunch of other students who always wanted to see the world fundraised like crazy. They decided that their class trip would be to six different places; Los Angeles, Star City, Central City, Metropolis, Gotham, and finally New York City. It would be a tour.  They would spend two weeks in each city, touring and visiting, before moving on to the next. Each city had its own highlights and hotels that need to be arranged and paid for. Marinette did the math; they would need to raise a little less than $35,000 to pay for everything. She made it an even $40,000 to be safe.

Marinette set up a go fund me page an hour later. It wouldn’t be easy but Marinette knew they could do it if they worked hard and fast. (She only half-heartedly glared at Chloe when two grand mysteriously was donated to the club’s go-fund-me five minutes after she announced it the class. She did glare when Jagged and Clara both gave five grand each to their favorite designer and faux-niece. But stopped when Kagami said her mother was also donating $3,000 to the club.)

A week after the club’s formation, they had their first fundraiser. A car wash. Marinette knew it was best to get that one done as soon as possible while the summer heat was still around. It went great. They had it at a local park. Chloe played music off her phone. During the event, they sold ice cream and other cold sweets. Ondine had the great idea of selling full water balloons to children so they could run around. Marc sold quick funny Caricatures of customers. They raised a total of $2752, minus the two hundred for expenses that Chloe and Mariette fronted themselves.

The second fundraiser Bustier’s class held was a bake sale. It was in the middle of December and more or less a last-minute idea. Alya spearheaded the event, remembering how much money they pulled in from the last bake sale. She had the smart idea of doing it during a pep rally. Only to remember at the last minute that Marinette usually supplied all the best goods freely given from the bakery. Or made them herself. It didn’t take a genius to know that Alya nor any of the class would be welcome in the bakery based on the cold looks Tom and Sabine had given Alya last time she went in with her mother. So Alya declared all the kids would make their own goods.

…Four people got food poisoning; one of them was Kim. Most of the baked goods were dry and hard and virtually unappealing. Rose’s sugar cookies sold well but mostly because they were one of the few things that tasted and looked good. The class made a total of 128 bucks. They were lucky they weren’t sued.

The World Travelers’ club’s second fundraiser was actually a pool party at Chloe’s. She had led the entire event. The weather was still hot. They got Luka and his new band My Shadow’s Wonderland to play; Kitty section had sadly broken up due to Lila’s schemes months before. The club members sold tickets to get in. They also sold food: hot dogs, hamburgers, veggie burgers, ice cream, and funnel cakes. Kagami sold Balloon which caused her friends to do double-takes. Because Kagami knew how to make balloon animals, what in the world? Marinette and Marc did face paint and temp tattoos. Nearly everyone from school showed up. Even Bustier’s class, though they hadn’t seemed to realize The World travelers’ club was hosting. They earned a total of $3101. Marinette had long since learned the greatest trick of the fundraiser; don’t let make it obvious it’s a fundraiser. Make it fun and people would come.

Their third fundraiser happened two weeks later just at the beginning of October. It was Claude’s idea and he called it; “Can you Arcade it?” No laughed but he thought it was hilarious. They had got permission to use the gym to set up a video Gamers’ paradise. He got this idea when he heard the old arcade had finally shut down after Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone had opted to retire. He got the couple to donate the old game machine for a day to help them out. Claude only had to babysit their pet Parakeet for two weeks while they were out of town. Old arcade games line the walls. New games with TV borrowed from the club members were set up with the new game systems. They sold food and anything they thought a gamer would want. Aurore somehow got the local Taco Bell to sponsor the event so ever twenty minutes or so they had a deal with commercial playing in the background. This fundraiser attracted most parents with younger children; though a good percent was just nostalgic dads who ended up playing the games as much as the kids. $1700 was earned; most of it in quarters.

 Their next fundraiser happened at the end of October and it was a haunted house; or rather a haunted school. They teamed up with a few other clubs to put the event together. They didn’t earn that much money; $300 after it was split between the clubs. However, all the kids had a ton of fun.

When November hit, and the weather turned cold, and everyone wanted everything pumpkin spice. (And Bustier’s class first fundraiser was about to happen) Marinette held did her bake sale. She with the help of the other members of the club made all the sweets; for once she didn’t have to get her parents to donate the baked goods. In additional, Marinette and the gang sold handmade little dolls of Ladybug and Chat Noir and the new miraculous heroes that had replaced the last team. The dolls were a big hit. Such a hit that Chloe got the idea of marketing them online for a much better price. The fundraiser earned about $600 bucks which weren’t bad.

Chloe and Marinette started selling the dolls for $10 bucks each plus shipping and handling. Chloe and Marinette made the dolls. The others took care of the shipping part. The

dolls only cost 2 bucks to make, as they were mostly yarn, so they profited 8. Chloe said that was how the business made money.

By the time December hit, they were had raised more half of their overall target goal.

During the fundraisers, each kid used their own influence via social media to get people to go their Go-Fund-me page. Luka and his band, all of who members of the club anyway, used Youtube and Instagram to promote their bands also asked fans to make a donation. Aurore used her Ladybug site Bugout to ask her fans. Ondine did swim training videos did the same. Marc who did drawing tutorial asked too. They didn’t get a lot from; a dollar here, three there, maybe a five if they were lucky but every bit count.

Their next fundraiser was a raffle in one of the empty unsure ballrooms of Chloe’s hotel, and it happened not long before Christmas break. This was spearheaded by Aurore. The strategy was sound; most people were still rushing to get presents. All they have to do was bid on the item they want. She got local businesses to donate. A fancy dinner from one restaurant, a bouquet of roses, expensive perfumes, a massage chair; a bunch of gift cards of various stores. Chloe got her dad to donate two items a spa day and a luxury Spa weekend. Marc offered art lessons. He also auctioned off some of his portraits. Ondine offered swim lessons. Aurore got offered a meet-and-greet with Ladybug, who even showed up to make an appearance. Kagami offered sword fighting lessons. Luka offers guitar lessons. His bandmate, Naomi, offered drum lessons. Another girl, Bridgette offered piano lessons. Marinette offered her usually big-ticket item; a custom design by MDC. The night was a hit. Once again, Marinette’s item was one of the highest bid items of the night. All in all, the kids brought in a total of $4728.

January came and Bustier’s class decided it was time for another fundraiser. Just as the World’s traveler’s club decided it was time for a break. Though they still sold the dolls; which had brought in $1800 since they had started selling them; Ladybug and her crew apparent had fans all over the world. This meant by the time February hit, they had just over $10,000 left to raise and five months to do it. They would leave at the beginning of June. They already paid for all of their plane tickets and paid for their hotel rooms. All their tours booked and paid for. All reservations made. And then reconfirmed by a rather stern Chloe. Passports were bought.

Bustier’s fundraiser idea was once again headed by Alya, the new class president after Lila decline the role as she would be far too busy. Alya decided a raffle would be perfect. The one they did the year before had been amazing. Again, Alya forgot that Marinette and Chloe handled nearly everything which was why it was such a big hit. Alya had to use the school gym.

“It’s not like I’d ask Chloe,” Alya huffed to her boyfriend. “I’m just glad I won’t have to deal with her or Marinette on our trip.”

“You said it, babe,” Nino leaned back in his desk. “No need for that kind of drama.”

The raffle was their most successful fundraiser so far much to Alya smug face when Marinette and Chloe walked into class on Monday.  All the kids in the class participated and offered their own talents for use; offering lessons or gift cards from their parents' businesses. Their biggest hit was a picture and an autograph from Adrien Agreste.

“We raised over a thousand dollars,” Alya crossed her arms. A satisfied look on her face. She had worked hard. They had all worked hard. “Beat that!”

Marinette and Chloe shared a look before they literally fell to the ground laughing. “I can’t!” Chloe gasped for air. “I can’t breathe!”

Marinette struggled to contain herself, “This! I!” She couldn’t even get out the words. She was laughing so hard.

They didn’t even bother to pay the glares they received any attention. It was just too funny.

For the rest of the week, it was the running joke between them. Every now and then, the other students in the class would “Beat that!” And laughter from the back of the room.

February came and the kids decided in anticipation for Valentine ’s Day. They would do a Date Auction. It was Ondine’s idea and it was a huge success. Surprising considering it, it was supposed to be simple and easy and something to get them back into the fundraiser's mood after a month's breath. Most of the kids now had a strong online following and become popular among the youth of Paris for their awesome parties. So when word spread that the World Travelers’ Club was doing a date auction; a lot of students from school showed up. A lot of students from other schools showed up. One girl traveled from England specifically for Luka.

Marinette, followed by Chloe, Then Luka, then Kagami, then Aurore was the highest auctioned date of the night. Claude and Felix were both a little put out. Marc didn’t mind. Mostly because of the best looking guy at the auction bid on him.

All in all, they raised $2100.

The next fundraiser was in March. The spring warm weather had hit in full. Flowers were blooming. The fundraiser was a carnival Luka planned. Everyone set up carnival booths and games and fun prizes. Live music. They had it in on the school soccer field. A lot of parents with their kids showed up, looking for a family-friendly event to enjoy. Total they raised $2421.

Marinette’s dolls brought in an additional $900. Then it was official they only needed 5,000 more.

Bustier’s class tried another fundraiser; a dance party in the school gymnasium; hosted by Nino. They sold tickets to get in, snacks and drinks. They put off filers everywhere and did everything they could to promote the event. They made $750 dollars. And were proud.

 In April, the World travelers’ club did another bake sale and another car wash and a ping pong tournament was a really big hit for some reason. By the end of April, they had met their goals. All loose ends tied up. All the tickets bought. Permissions slip signed.  Four teachers, who were more than excited to volunteer to spend near all-expense-paid vacation in the most popular cities in the world, would be chaperoning. They were done.

By the first Monday of May, Chloe and Marinette breathed a sigh a relief as the stress had finally left their shoulders. The only thing they had to worry about was packing, and they had a month to do it.

The two girls once again arrived to see the smug grins of the classmates' faces. Bustier’s class had been fundraisers like crazy so much so that even the teacher was looking over her students proudly.

“We’ve raised $5,829,” Lila announced. The Italian girl looked smug as she had done al the work. “Fundraising was hard but we did what we had to.”

“Way better then we did under the last class president,” Alya hissed.

Marinette and Chloe looked at each other again. It was Chloe who spoke, “So you’re not going to New York?”

The question caught everyone off guard.

“What?” Alya hissed. “Of course we’re going to New York!”

Marinette sighed, “No, WE” She pointed between her and Chloe, “And the World Traveler’s club is going to New York and a bunch of other places. We raised over $40,000.” Most of the students turned green.

“$40- $40,000,” Nino stuttered. “What? how?”

“We worked hard, like we always,” Chloe flipped her hair. “That was our goal since September. Its how much it would cost to pay for the entire trip. For every member and required chaperones to go. Why? What was your goal?”

It went quiet. Alya spoke next, “Goal?”

           Again, Chloe and Marinette

“Goal,” Marinette nodded. “The amount you needed to fund the entire trip to New York?”

“We didn’t have a goal,” Rose answered.

The two girls stared at them.

“What airline are you using?” Chloe asked. “How much do the tickets cost?”

No answer.

“What hotel are you staying at?”

No answer.

“Did you get your passports yet?”

Nothing.

“Have you made any reservations?” Marinette asked. “Any down payments?” No answered. Just pale faces.

           Chloe just shook her head, “Did you at least get approval from the school board to clear the trip?”

“We need them to approve it?” Kim asked. “Why it’s our trip?”

“Safety and legal concerns,” Marinette said slowly. “It takes weeks to get approved. Permissions slips have to be signed and turned in. Chaperones found.”

“Miss Bustier’s our chaperone,” Mylene said brightly, and the teacher nodded eagerly.

           Marinette fought the urge to scoff. Bustier couldn’t chaperone a ping pong tournament. “Fine but with a class this size, you need at least two more. Maybe three.”

           Chloe crossed her arms, “How were you getting to New York? What were your plans? Did you book any tours? What were you going to do in New York?”

           No one said a word.

           Marinette smirked, “Good on you, I guess. You must have some killer fundraising ideas with only a month and a half until summer break.” She sighed. “I couldn’t do it myself. Way too much stress. The World Traveler’s club was killing ourselves since September to get everything done.”

“September,” Rose gasped. “Really.” She deflated. “We didn’t start till November, and the car wash was pretty bad.” There were nods.

“Yep,” Chloe said. “I think we did about fifteen or more fundraisers. Little ones and big ones. How many did you guys do?”

           Nino frowned, “Five.”

“We worked really hard, though!” Alix slammed her fist on the desk. “Nothing worked.”

           Marinette and Chloe shared another look.

“Shame,” Marinette said as they glided to their seats.

“Last year, the class did so well,” Chloe smirked. “Wonder what changed?”

“Nothing!” Alya shouted. “We did the same thing we do every year. Bake Sale, car wash, Raffle, Dance Party; everything!

           There were nods.

“It’s not fair!”

“We didn’t do anything wrong.”

           There more shouts and complaints.

           Bustier calmed everyone down, “Now class, let’s not give up hope. Our trip last year was a success. And I know we can pull it off again. What did we do then that we aren’t doing now?”

           The class went silent as they thought up what they were doing wrong. Surprisingly, it was Juleka who answered, “Marinette did most of the organizing,” She whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear; one of the few brave things she did all year. “Her and Chloe come up with all the fundraiser ideas and they plan them out too. They always did; every year.”

“This year they didn’t,” Rose frowned.

           And just like that, it was like that, it was like a balloon burst inside the students.

“They always plan the best fundraisers,” Kim frowned. “And we always met our goals.”

           Lila glared. She didn’t think that when she convinced the class to kick the girls off the trip that they’d be getting rid of anyone who did any real work. However, the glare quickly turned into a frown with a few crocodile tears, “Then we didn’t they help us? We needed them obviously.”

           Before any of the other students could direct their anger to the girls at their betrayal, Nino shrugged, “Because we told them they couldn’t come with us, remember? So they didn’t help out. They told us they wouldn’t. Why should they? It wasn’t their trip.”

           Frustration and rage built inside Alya. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The class should’ve been headed to a glamorous trip to New York, with Marinette and Chloe left to suffer alone in Paris wishing they had been invited. Where was justice?

“I bet you're happy!” Alya growled at her ex-friend. “Our trip is ruined thanks to you.”

           Marinette smirked, “No. I didn’t do anything. I was and am in no way involved with your class trip. Just like you wanted.”

“You could’ve helped us!” Alix yelled.

“Why?” Chloe asked.

           Silence.

“You made it clear we couldn’t go to New York with you,” Chloe said. “Why would we help you? It’s not like we’re friends with you.”

           Angry eyes and red faces filled the classroom. No one wanted to admit that they got themselves into trouble.

           Alya had to be held back in her chair by Nino, “You could’ve warned me how hard being class president was. Or what we needed to do to go on the trip. But you didn’t care about us. You don’t think about us at all.”

           Marinette leaned back in her seat, an easy smile on her face, with frost in her eyes, “Sweetie, I haven’t thought any of you for months.”

           Before anyone could say anything else. Bustier decided to try to take control again, “Marinette, Chloe; there must be something you can do. Maybe the class can tag along on your trip.”

           Hopeful expressions overtook the students' faces.

           Both girls looked at the teacher like she was stupid.

“Even if that was possible,” Chloe narrowed her eyes. “And it’s not. We had everything booked for months, reservations made. How will they pay for it? We only raised enough for the World Travelers’ Club.”

           It was Adrien who answered, “Can’t you do something?” He said with hopeful eyes. “Our friends are really looking forward to it.”

“No.” Marinette snapped. “They are not my friends. And even if they were, it would take another 40 grand to get everyone in class on the trip. There’s no time to get that type of cash. Even if there was, it would still be weeks to get School board approval. The World Travelers’ leave on the first. There’s nothing to do.”

“We’re not risking our trip for yours,” Chloe and Marinette chimed together, looking very much like the Ice Queens the students had called them behind their backs.

           That was that. Alya and the other students would shoot glares at the two girls, and make mean comments for the next month; mostly about them being selfish. The girls didn’t pay them any mind. Lila tried to join the World Travelers’ club at the last minute, only to be unanimously told to come back in September. Damocles, at the urgency of Lila and Alya, tried to intervene and stop the trip the ground, it wouldn’t be safe. Boy, was he surprised when the school board called him into a meet to speak about his future employment and the rampant bullying and oversight that had been going on in the school.

           Bustier’s class ended up going to Disney World Paris for the weekend, before the end of May. And posted tons of videos, most of which had comments about getting away from bullies and the drama of the class.

           The World Travelers’ Club left on schedule on June 1st. They would return for two months.

           The pictures they posted was the talk of the school. Which was saying something since the school wasn’t even in session. The first pictures were of the grand hotels they stayed at, the amazing strange American food they ate. Carne Asada fries, yum!

           In Los Angelus, the club toured Warner Brothers studios and ran into the cast of the new Star Trek movies. They attended the world premiere of the Joss Weadon Superhero movie. They got all the classic tourist pictures of Los Angeles. Though Marinette and Chloe, when they had explored by themselves, ended up running into the Rock and had a picture of themselves hanging from his biceps as he posed.

           Their next stop was Star City. They toured the local museum, toured Queen Industries, met Oliver Queen himself. Then they even got to meet the Green Arrow.

           Alya nearly broke her phone when she saw Aurore and the superhero.

           After that, the Club went to Central city where they visited Star Labs.  It was Aurore’s idea. It was the most meta-filled city in the world; known for the most outrageous heroes and rogues in the world.

           It didn’t take long for the club to run into the flash, in this case, he was fighting against Captain Cold, Heatwave, and the rest of the rogues.

           The fight wasn’t favoring either side. But the class watched eagerly from where they stood on the sidewalk.

           They had to duck quickly when Captain cold was blasted into the wall next to them.

           Leonard Snart was surprised when a young girl helped him up. He looked and saw a bunch of kids standing there, torn between watching him and watching the fight.

“Are you okay, Mr. Cold?” She asked, with a heavy French accent, her blue eyes big with worry.

“…Fine, kid,” He answered. “Shouldn’t you lot being running off.”

           The bluenette and the blond girl next to her shared a look.

“Can we get a picture?” The Bluenette asked.

           Leonard Snart paused, “…Sure.” There was, in fact, a first time for everything.

           The kids cheered. And each one started scrambled with their phones to get their picture. It wasn’t long before Heatwave showed up to see what was wrong, only to be pulled in by a push blond to take pictures as well.

           That was when the flash Showed up but Aurore quickly pulled him into an interview. Slowly but surely, the rogues and the team flash found themselves entertaining and signing autographs for a bunch of French kids; answering all their questions and telling stories.

           Later when Aurore and the rest posted their pictures, and the interview with the Flash and his rogues, Alya did break her phone. As far as she was concerned life was fair.

           In metropolis, They met Superman, Supergirl, Krypton (the former superboy), and the new Superboy. Superman had heard from the other league members of the French class touring different cities and how great they were.

           They toured the Daily Planet and Aurore got one on one time with Lois Lane. They got to see LexCorp and had a tour given by Lex Luthor himself. Lex had heard about the class from Queen and Wells, the CEOs of Star Labs and Queen industries, and decided one-up his competition in any way he could

           Then the kids' wen to Gotham. The pictures from that trip made half the kids in Bustiers’ class cry. The best pictures were of Marinette sitting in the Batmobile; Batman looking stern next to her. The ones of the club with Bruce Wayne and his kids were pretty epic too.

           Finally, their lasts destination was New York City. And the kids saw everything. They did the entire tourist thing; The statue of liberty, times Square, New York Times. Everything. However, the highlight was the tour of Stark Tower/Industries; led by Tony Stark, with Pepper to manage him.  Because Tony Stark didn’t get one-upped by Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne. Then the kids took a surprise trip to the Avengers compound.

           Marinette and Chloe decided walking into the training room only to see Captain America, Thor, and Bucky Barnes working out with their shirts off was the best part of the entire trip.

           Pictures and videos were taken of each member of the club holding various Avenger weapons. Chloe refused to admit her hand trembled when she was given over Captain America’s shield.

           The funniest video was supposed to be each member of the World Travels’ club struggling to pick up Thor’s hammer. It was pretty funny. Until Marinette lift it like it weighed nothing. Mouths dropped. The Avengers were stunned. Who was this small bluenette worthy of Thor’s hammer?

Then Thor shouted that Marinette would come to Asgard with him.

           Then Tony had to tell Thor that he couldn’t kidnap kids.

           To which Thor said, “What about Peter? Where did he come from?”

“I’m his mentor,” Tony groaned.

           Thor nodded, “Then I shall be the girl’s mentor. The Captain shall train young Chloe. Natasha will have Kagami as they are suited for each other; mostly because they strike fear in hearts everyone. Pepper will get Aurore; as they were meant to rule. Hawkeye will get Claude. The Soldier of Winter will get young Luka. You shall have Peter. The rest will be divided among the rest of the avengers. There. All done.”

           A moment of silence, and then Tony yelled, “That’s not how this works.”

           It was all on video.

           It went viral in an hour.

           Marinette had to portal back to Paris to deal with several different Akumas several different times; most were just about jealousy.

           When the kids returned to Paris. They wasted no time relaying the stories of their adventures.

           When September came and school started. Marinette and Chloe once again walked into class together, with smiles on their faces, only to meet glum looks on the students' faces. They paid no mind as they headed back to their seats in the back.

           Before class could begin, Rose approached them, a hopeful smile on her face, “Marinette, Chloe; we were hoping you’d come with us on your next trip.” Her smile widened “And Marinette, maybe you’d like to be class president again.”

           None of the other students looked happy at the idea but all of them could admit that the World Travelers’ club had been amazing. And if they ever wanted another great trip, they had no choice but to deal with the Ice Queens.

           Marinette and Chloe shared a look and then shot the class cold smirks, “No!”

“We’ll be far too busy,” Chloe smiled, coolness in her tone. “We decided we can no longer want to go on any more class trips. With you.”

“The World Travelers’ club takes a lot of work,” Marinette added.

“Good Luck though,” The two girls chimed together. “You have plenty of time to fundraise though.”

“A little less than a year,” Chloe said. “Our club starts planning in about two weeks. We’ll start fundraising right after. We’re thinking about Japan. Luckily this trip won’t be as expensive as our last.”

“Good luck with your trip though,” Marinette leaned back in her seat. “Who knows? If your lucky, it’ll be as fun as your last one. We know you worked so hard. Earned over $5,000 right?”

“Beat that!” Chloe added.

Then both girls burst into laughter.

Marinette wiped her eyes, “Besides you don’t want us there on your trip.”

“Too much Drama, right?” Chloe offered.

           The bell rang. And the class’ resident ice queens sat in back with smiles on their faces and ice in their eyes.

#ml salt #ml salt fic #Marinette deserves better #marinette dupen chang #chloe bourgeois #chloe deserves better #class salt #adrien salt

[snelbz]

What Happens In Vegas... {6}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre x Rhysand, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Summary: For Feyre’s twenty-first birthday, her best friend took her to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun she could never forget. She’s going home with a lot more than memories.

@snelbz​ / @tacmc​ collab

What Happens In Vegas Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Ask Box

“Hey.” Rhys padded down the stairs seven hours later, wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. He’d slicked his wet hair back and his tattoos were displayed to perfection, defining his lean torso and muscular arms. There was a lot of skin on show. The man was a visual feast. I made a conscious effort to keep my tongue inside my head. Keeping the welcoming grin off my face was beyond my abilities. I’d planned to play it cool so as not to spook him. That plan had failed.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked.

“Nothing much. There was a delivery for you.” I pointed to the bags and boxes waiting by the door. All day, I’d pondered the problem of us. The only thing I’d come up with was that I didn’t want our time to end. I didn’t want to sign those annulment papers. Not yet. The idea made me want to start puking all over again. I wanted to try with Rhys. I wanted to be with him. I needed a new plan.

The pad of my thumb rubbed over my bottom lip, back and forth, back and forth. I’d gone for a long walk up the beach earlier, watching the waves crash on the shore and reliving that kiss. Over and over again, I’d played it inside my mind. The same went for our conversations. In fact, I’d picked apart every moment of our time together, explored every nuance. Every moment I could remember, anyway, and I’d tried damn hard to remember all of it.

“A delivery?” He crouched down beside the closest package and started tearing at the wrapping. I averted my eyes before I caught a glimpse up his towel, despite being wildly curious.

“Would you mind if I used your phone?” I asked.

“Feyre, you don’t need to ask. Help yourself to whatever.”

“Thanks.” Joey and my folks were probably freaking out, wondering what was going on. It was time to brave up to the butt-picture repercussions. I groaned on the inside.

“This one’s for you.” He handed me a thick brown-paper parcel done up with string, followed by a shopping bag with some brand I’d never heard of printed on the side. “Ah, this one too, by the look.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I asked Amarantha to order some stuff for us.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? No.” Rhys shook his head. Then he kneeled down in front of me and tore into the brown package in my hands. “No ‘oh.’ We need clothes. It’s really simple.”

“That’s very kind of you, Rhys, but I’m fine.”

He wasn’t listening. Instead he held up a red dress the same thigh-baring length as those girls at the mansion had worn. “What the fuck? You’re not wearing this.” The designer dress went flying, and he ripped into the shopping bag at my feet.

“Rhys, you can’t just throw it on the ground.”

“Sure I can, I paid for it. Here, this is a little better.”

A black tank top fell into my lap. At least this one looked the right size. The thigh-high red dress had been a size-two joke. Quite possibly a mean one, given Amarantha’s dislike of me back in LA. No matter.

A tag dangled from the tank. The price. Shit. They couldn’t be serious.

“Whoa. I could pay my rent for weeks with this top.”

In lieu of a response he threw a pair of skinny black jeans at me. “Here, they’re okay too.”

I put the jeans aside. “It’s a plain cotton tank top. How can this possibly cost two hundred dollars?”

“What do you think of this?” A length of silky blue fabric dangled from his hand. “Nice, huh?”

I ignored his question, still staring at the tank in my hand. “Do they sew the seams with gold thread? Is that it?”

“What are you talking about?” He held up the blue dress, inspecting it closer, turning it this way and that. “Hell no, nevermind, it’s backless. The top of your ass will probably show in that.” It joined the red dress on the floor. My hands itched to rescue them, fold them away nicely. But Rhysand just ripped into the next box. “What were you saying?”

“I’m talking about the price of this top.”

“Shit, no. We’re not talking about the price of that top because we’re not talking about money. It’s an issue for you, and I’m not going there.” A micromini denim skirt came next. “What the fuck was Am thinking ordering you this sort of stuff?”

“Well, to be fair, you do normally have girls in bikinis hanging off you.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “In comparison, the backless dress is quite sedate.”

He kept digging through the bags, but he looked up at me again. “You’re different. You’re my friend, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I didn’t entirely believe the tone of my own voice.

His forehead wrinkled up with disdain. “Damn it. Look at the length of this. I can’t even tell if it’s meant to be a skirt or a fucking belt.”

Laughter burst out of me and he gave me a hurt look, big, violet puppy-dog eyes of extreme sadness and displeasure. Clearly, I had hurt his heart.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But you sound like my father.” He shoved the micro mini back into its bag. At least it wasn’t on the floor.

“Yeah? Your dad and I should meet. I think we’d get along great.”

I blinked. “You want to meet my father?”

Shrugging, Rhys said, “Depends. Would he shoot me on sight?”

“No.” Probably not.

He just gave me a curious look and burrowed into the next box. “That’s better. Here.”

He passed me a couple of sedate T-shirts, one black and one blue.

“I don’t think you should be selecting nun’s clothing for me, friend,” I said, amused at his behavior. “It’s vaguely hypocritical.”

“They’re not nun’s clothes. They just cover the essentials. Is that too much to ask?” The next bulging bag was passed to me in its entirety. “Here.”

“You do admit it’s just a tiny bit hypocritical, though, right?”

“Admit nothing. Hybern taught me that a long time ago. Look in the bag.”

I did so and he burst out laughing, whatever expression I wore being apparently hilarious.

“What is this?” I asked, feeling all wide-eyed with wonder. It might have been a thong if the makers had seen fit to invest just a little more material into it.

“You said I was dressing you like a nun, so I’m dressing you like a nun.”

“La Chaleur.” I read the tag, then turned it over to check out the price.

“Shit. Will you not look at the price, please, Feyre?” Rhys dove at me and I lay back, trying to make out the figures on the crazily swaying tag that was bigger than the scrap of lace. His larger hand closed over mine, engulfing the thong. “Don’t. For fuck’s sake.”

The back of my head hit the edge of a step and I winced, my eyes filling with tears. “Ow.”

“You all right?” His body stretched out above mine. A hand rubbed carefully at the back of my skull.

“Um, yeah.” The scent of his soap and shampoo was pure heaven, Lord help me. But there was something more than that. His cologne. It wasn’t heavy. Just a light scent of spice. There was something really familiar about it.

The tag hanging down in front of my face momentarily distracted me however. “Three hundred dollars?”

He smirked. “It’s worth it.”

“Holy shit. No, it’s not.” It wasn’t, there was no way it was.

He hung the thong from the tip of a finger, a crazy cool smile on his face. “Trust me. I’d have paid ten times that amount for this. No questions asked.”

“Rhys, I could get the exact same thing for less than a tenth of that price in a normal store. That’s insane.”

“No, you couldn’t.” He balanced his weight on an elbow set on the step beside my head and started reading from the tag. “See, this exquisite lace is handmade by local artists in a small region of southern France famous for just such craftsmanship. It’s made from only the finest of silks. You can’t get that at Walmart, baby.”

My eyebrows bunched together. “No, I guess not.”

He made a pleased humming sound and looked at me with eyes soft and hazy. Then his smile faded. He pulled back and scrunched the thong up in his hand. “Anyway….”

“Wait.” My fingers curled around his biceps, keeping him in place.

“What’s up?” he asked, his voice tightening.

“Just, let me…” I lifted my face to his neck. The scent was strongest there. I breathed him deep, letting myself get high off the scent of him. I shut my eyes and tried to remember.

Something. Anything.

“Feyre?” The muscles in his arms flexed and hardened. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“We were in the gondolas at the Venetian. You said you couldn’t swim, that I’d have to save you if we capsized.”

His Adam’s apple jumped. “Yeah.”

“I was terrified for you.”

His chuckle was rough. “I know. You hung on to me so tight I could barely breathe.”

I drew back so I could see his face.

“Why do you think we stayed on them for so long?” he asked. “You were practically sitting in my lap.”

I felt stupid, but I still asked, “Can you swim?”

He laughed quietly. “Of course I can swim. I don’t even think the water was that deep.”

My eyes narrowed. “It was all a ruse. You’re tricky, Rhysand Lunasa.”

“And you’re funny, Feyre Archeron.” His face relaxed, his eyes softening again. “You remembered something.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s great.” He smiled, a true, handsome smile, one that he’d only blessed me with a few times. Anything else?”

I gave him a sad smile in return. “No, sorry.” 

He looked away, disappointed, I think, but trying not to let it show.

I hesitated. “Rhys?”

“Mm?”

I leaned forward to press my lips to his, wanting to kiss him, needing to. He pulled back again. My hopes dived. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Feyre. What are you doing?”

“Kissing you?” I thought it was obvious.

He said nothing. Jaw rigid, he looked away.

“You’re allowed to kiss me and cuddle me and buy me insanely priced lingerie and I can’t kiss you back?” My hands slid down to his and he held them. At least he wasn’t rejecting me totally.

“Why do you wanna kiss me?” he asked, his voice stern.

I studied our entwined fingers for a moment, getting my thoughts in order. “Rhys, I’m probably not ever going to remember everything about that night in Vegas. But I thought we could maybe make some new good memories this weekend. Something we can both share.”

He didn’t reply immediately, and after a minute, I looked up into his handsome face. “Just this weekend?”

My heart filled my throat. “No. I don’t know. It just… it feels like there’s meant to be more between us.”

“More than friends?” He watched me, eyes intent.

“Yes. I like you. You’re kind and sweet and beautiful and you’re easy to talk to. When we’re not always arguing about Vegas. I feel like…”

His violet eyes were bright. “What?”

I didn’t want to stumble over my words. I didn’t want him to think I was doubting this decision, doubting him. “Like this weekend is a second chance. I don’t want to just let it slip by. I think I’d regret that for a long time.”

He nodded, cocked his head. “So what was your plan? Just kiss me and see what happened?”

I blinked. “My plan?”

He smirked, leaning closer ever so slightly. “I know about you and your plans. You told me all about how you make a plan for everything.”

“I told you that?” I was an idiot.

“Yeah. You did. You especially told me about the big plan.” He stared down at me, eyes intense. “You know… finish school then spend three to five years establishing yourself at a midrange firm before moving up the ranks somewhere more prestigious and starting your own small consultancy business by thirty-five. Then there’d maybe time to get a relationship and those pesky 2.4 kids out of the way.”

My throat was suddenly a dry, barren place. “I was really chatty that night.”

“Mm. But what was interesting was the way you didn’t talk about that plan like it was a good thing.” He looked at me and the way those eyes were looking at me, I couldn’t have hid anything from him, even if I wanted to. “You talked about it like it was a cage and you were rattling the bars.”

I had nothing. He read me like a book and I had no idea what to say.

“So, come on,” he said softly, taunting me. “What’s the plan here, Feyre? How were you going to convince me?”

“Oh. Well, I was, um… I was going to seduce you, I guess. And see what happened. Yeah…”

He snorted. “How? By complaining about me buying you stuff?”

“No,” I said, clearing my throat. “That was just an added bonus. You’re welcome.”

He licked his lips, but I saw the smile threatening to break through. “Right. Come on, then, show me your moves.”

I hesitated. “My moves?”

“Your seduction techniques. Come on, time’s a-wasting.” I hesitated and he clicked his tongue, impatient. “I’m only wearing a towel, baby. How hard can this be?”

“Fine, fine.” I held his fingers tight, refusing to let go. “So, Rhys?”

“Yes, Feyre?”

“I was thinking…”

“Hmm?”

I was so hopelessly outclassed with him. I gave him the only thing I could think of. The only thing that I knew had a track record of working.

“I think you’re a really nice guy and I was wondering if you’d maybe like to come up to my room and have sex with me and maybe hang out for a while. If that’s maybe something you’d be interested in doing…”

His eyes darkened, accusing and unhappy. He started to pull back again. “Now you’re just being funny.”

“No.” I slipped my hand around the back of his neck, beneath his damp hair, trying to bring him back to me. I pressed my forehead to his, hoping he could see the sincerity in my eyes. “No, I’m very, very serious.”

Jaw tensed, he stared at me.

I breathed, “You asked me this morning in the car if I thought you were scary. The answer is yes. You scare me shitless. I don’t know what I’m doing here. But I hate the thought of leaving you.”

His gaze searched my face, but still he said nothing. He was going to turn me down. I knew it. I’d asked for too much, pushed him too far. He’d walk away from me, and who could blame him after everything?

“It’s okay,” I said, gathering what remained of my pride up off the floor, about to grab my Rhys-approved tank, jeans and t-shirts and run upstairs.

“Shit.” He sighed. “You’re kinda terrifying too.”

I breathed, “I am?”

“Yeah, you are. And wipe that smile off your face,” he teased.

I did no such thing. “Sorry.”

He angled his head and kissed me, his lips firm and so good. My eyes closed and my mouth opened. The taste of him took me over. The mint of his toothpaste and the slide of his tongue against mine. All of it was beyond perfect. He lay me back against the stairs. The new bruise at the back of my head throbbed in protest when I bumped it yet again. I flinched but didn’t stop. Rhys cupped the back of my skull, guarding against further injury.

The weight of his body held me in place, not that I was trying to escape. The edge of the steps pressed into my back and I couldn’t care less. I’d have happily lain there for hours with him above me, the warm scent of his skin making me high. His hips held my legs wide open. If not for my jeans and his towel, things would get interesting fast. God, I hated cotton just then.

We didn’t once break the kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist and my hands curved around his shoulders. Nothing had ever felt this good. My ache for him increased and caught fire, spreading right through me. My legs tightened around him, muscles burning. I couldn’t get close enough. Talk about frustrating. His mouth moved over my jaw and down my neck, lighting me up from inside. He bit and licked, finding sensitive spots below my ear and in the crook of my neck. Places I hadn’t known I had. The man had magic. He knew things I didn’t. Where he’d learned his tricks didn’t matter. Not right then.

“Up,” he said in a rough voice. Slowly he stood, one hand beneath my ass and the other still protecting my skull.

“Rhys, no.” I scrambled to tighten my hold on his back.

“Hey.” He drew back just enough to look into my eyes. His pupils were huge, almost swallowing the iris whole. “I am not going to drop you. That’s never going to happen.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“You trust me?” He asked.

“Yes.” I meant it, too.

“Good.” His hand slid down my back. “Now put your arms around my neck.”

I did, and my balance immediately felt better. Both of Rhysand’s hands gripped my butt and I locked my feet behind his back, holding on tight. His face showed no sign of pain or imminent back breakage. Maybe he was strong enough to carry me around after all.

“That’s it.” He smiled and kissed my chin. “All good?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

He simply asked, “Bed?”

“Yes.” I hoped I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt.

He chuckled in a way that did bad things to me. “Kiss me,” he said.

Without hesitation, I did so, fitting my mouth to his. Sliding my tongue between his lips and getting lost in him all over again. He groaned, his hands holding me hard against him.

Which was when the doorbell rang, making a low, mournful sound that echoed in my heart and groin. “Nooo.”

“You’re fucking joking.” Rhysand’s face screwed up and he gave the tall double doors the foulest of looks. At least I wasn’t alone. I groaned and gave him a tight full-body hug. It would have been funny if it didn’t hurt so much.

A hand rubbed at my back, sliding beneath the hem of my tank to stroke the skin beneath. “It’s like the universe doesn’t want me inside you or something, I swear,” he grumbled.

“Make them go away. Please.”

He chuckled, clutching me tighter, but then he groaned and kissed my neck. “Let me answer the door and get rid of them, then I’ll take care of you, okay?”

“Your towel is on the floor.”

He smirked. “That’s a problem. Down you hop.”

I reluctantly loosened my hold and put my feet back on firm ground. Again the gong-like sound filled the house. 

Rhys grabbed a pair of black jeans out of a bag and quickly pulled them on. All I caught was a flash of toned ass. Keeping my eyes mostly averted might have been the hardest thing I’d ever done.

“Hang back just in case it’s press.” He looked into a small screen embedded beside the door. “Ah, man.”

I tensed. “Trouble?”

“No. Worse. Old friends with food.” He gave me a brief glance. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be hurting too.”

“But—”

“Anticipation makes it sweeter. I promise,” he said, then threw open the door. A hand tugged down the front of his T-shirt, trying to cover the obvious bulge beneath his jeans. “Drakon. Miryam. Hey, good to see you.”

I was going to kill him. Slowly. Strangle him with the overpriced thong. A fitting death for a rock star.

A couple about my parents’ age came in, laden down with pots and bottles of wine. The man, Drakon, was tall, muscular, and, surprise, covered in tats. Miryam was one of the most gorgeous women I’d ever seen. They both wore wide grins and gave me curious glances. I could feel my face heat when they took in the lingerie and clothing strewn about on the floor. It probably looked like we’d been about to embark on a two-person orgy.

Which was the truth, but still.

“How the hell are ya?” Drakon roared in an accent I couldn’t quite place, giving Rhys a one-armed hug on account of the Crock-Pot he held in the other. “And this must be Feyre. I have to read about it in the damn paper, Rhys? Are you serious?” He gave my husband a stern look, one brow arched high. “Miryam was pissed.”

“Sorry. It was— ah, it was sudden.” Rhys kissed Miryam on the cheek and took a casserole dish and a full bag from her. She patted him on the cheek in a motherly fashion.

“Introduce me,” she said.

“Feyre, this is Miryam and Drakon, close friends of mine. They’ve been taking care of the house for me.” He looked relaxed standing between these people. His smile was easy and his eyes were bright. I hadn’t seen him looking so happy before. Jealousy reared its ugly head, sinking its teeth in.

“Hello.” I put out my hand for shaking, but Drakon engulfed me in a hug.

“She’s so pretty. Isn’t she pretty, hon?” Drakon stepped aside and Miryam came closer, a warm smile on her face.

I was being a jerk. These were nice people. I should be profoundly grateful not every female Rhys knew rubbed her boobs on him. Damn my screaming hormones for making me surly.

“She sure is. Hello, Feyre. I’m Miryam.” The woman’s coffee-brown eyes went liquid. She seemed ready to burst into tears. In a rush, she took my hands and squeezed my fingers tight. “I’m just so happy he found a nice girl, finally.”

“Oh, thank you.” My face felt flammable.

Rhys gave me a wry grin.

“Okay, enough of that,” Drakon said. “Let’s let these lovebirds have their privacy. We can visit another time.”

Rhys stood aside, still holding the casserole dish and bag. When he saw me watching, he winked.

“I’ll have to show you the setup downstairs sometime,” Drakon said. “You gonna be here for long?”

“We’re not sure,” he said, giving me a glance.

Miryam clung to my hands, reluctant to leave. “I made chicken enchiladas and rice. Do you like Mexican? It’s Rhysand’s favorite.” Miryam’s brows wrinkled. “But I didn’t think to check if that was all right with you. You might be vegetarian.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not, and I love Mexican,” I said, squeezing her fingers back, though not as hard. “Thank you so much.”

She let out a release and grinned.

“Hon,” called Drakon.

“I’m coming.” Miryam gave my fingers a parting pat. “If you need anything at all while you’re here, you give me a call. Okay?”

Rhys said nothing. It was clearly my decision if they stayed or went. My body was still abuzz with need. That, and we seemed to do better alone. I didn’t want to share him because I was shallow and wanted hot sex. I wanted him all to myself. But it was the right thing to do. And if anticipation made it sweeter, well, maybe this once the right thing to do was also the best thing to do.

“Stay,” I said, stammering out the words. “Have dinner with us. You’ve made so much. We could never possibly finish it all.”

Rhysand’s gaze jumped to me, a small smile of approval on his face. He looked almost boyish, trying to contain his excitement. Like I’d just told him his birthday had been brought forward. Whoever these people were, they were important to him. I felt as though I’d just passed some test.

Miryam sighed. “Drakon is right, you’re newlyweds.”

“Stay. Please,” I said. Miryam looked to Drakon. Drakon shrugged but smiled, obviously delighted.

Miryam clapped her hands with glee. “Let’s eat!”

#snelbz whiv #vegas au #what happens in vegas #feysand #snelbz tacmc collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

[seat-safety-switch]

Legitimate drag racing hasn’t been a thing here for a couple of decades now. City shut down the track, and as expected, some of it moved to the streets. Lacking a replacement venue, I got to thinking about how to build a smaller version of the drag-racing experience that could still hold the appeal of the original for all involved.

Remote-controlled cars are an obvious choice. They’re cars, after all, and you can put them in a straight line. Yet there is no real thrill in using them for drag racing: without the visceral thrill of being inside, you might as well just be dynoing them. We moved on to pinewood derby racing after that, but then a bunch of the racers caught the woodworking bug. Our local area also lacks addictions and mental health counselling, so their problem spiralled until we lost them entirely to boat-building. Valve cover racing? It went for a little while, but even the hardest-core had to admit we looked kinda stupid meeting at the junkyard to see who could get the heaviest CA18DE cover, the one with the most studs.

I was doing street drags out behind the old Kurt Cobain’s Waffle Palace® when it hit me. What people loved about real drag racing was the brands. They wanted to see a rotten Cavalier roll up to the Christmas tree, laugh at it, and then watch in giggling horror as this underdog piece of shit laid waste to everything in sight for an entire evening. Without the reference programmed into our brains by branding and marketing for what to expect, it was difficult to upset those expectations. There was a place where brands combined with the need to destroy all comers: power tool racing.

This sport, previously popular only on construction sites, is now becoming more common across North America. You’ve heard a million suburban dads talk shit about DeWalts or Milwaukees, but now you can get to see them put their money (and pinks) where their mouth is. Only to get demolished by a Princess Auto PowerFist-brand angle grinder with motor wiring so thin it has to be a custom-built cheater, coughing purple smoke as it rips its way down the sidewalk. Will it run out of extension cord before it hits someone in the Tim Hortons parking lot? Just part of the fun, and those pigs surely haven’t written laws against it yet.

[cryptke]

just finished the book after like maybe 2-ish hours of sleep and two coffee, and I'm not disappointed. That's a great way to end a book, sorta like a full circle, with her visiting some places he's been to, and eventually returning to that diner. Genuinely amazing book, made me think a lot about what the *fuck* life actually is lol. I actually kind of enjoyed the nihilism aspect of the book, mostly because I haven't seen it very often in modern books, especially not executed well in a way that doesn't throw you right into the next depressive episode lol

I'm moving to Australia cuz i like really gotta get away from my family and this town, and I think *I* will commit serial mass murder if I don't put at least half the Pacific Ocean (or Atlantic, i think it's the atlantic) between me and them. Originally wanted to go to uni there, considered astrophysics, marine biology & egyptology, realized I have zero idea what to actually do with my life, so I'll be moving around a bit, probably a la circa supernatural (supplement the monsters with spiders), and see if something comes out of it, if a sudden life plan magically manifests before me. Visa only lasts for so long, so that'll be a ride ig..

the beaches in the far north of Queensland are literal fucking heaven, mangoes and coconuts on end - there's this old lady that always cuts the mangoes down and attracts all the cassowaries, which is an absolute pain in the ass because they mean as piss - but like feel free to drop in? motel room/apartment will always be open for you lol

absolutely stoked you actually liked my daryl request, and super glad you're out of the depression slump at the moment - and hopefully for a while longer. Even better that you've got a love interest on the line, definitely hope all works out well in that matter. Apartment hunting is literal hell, though it is fun, so i hope u can snatch a decent one. I once went hunting on Craigslist, did *not* go well, mistakes have been made.

you just threw me back like a bunch of years when i was thirteen and tried to craft my own fake id (with pic n all), to buy the worst possible brand of beer the local grocery store had stocked - it went horribly wrong, and that absolute cunt of a manager called the police to "teach" me a lesson. Thank fuck I'm more creative now.

and *please* share that rec for the other book you mentioned? in desperate need for some nicely dark, gory literature to sink my teeth in.

😭😭

the end of fucking Blackbird cracked something wide open in my brain. the scene where she's standing at the crossroads, i think it was, and she sees the street names............

i have respect for people who can root up their lives and transport themselves to a new continent entirely. it's like you're in a subgroup that managed to unlock the other 90% of their brain power

this new book is called Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica, and you can get the pdf for free online if you just google "tender is the flesh read online free." essentially, at its core the premise is that in some nearby future setting, all flesh derived from animals has become deadly to humankind because of a mysterious virus strain making their meat totally inedible. so relying on their produce as we do now would have society facing mass extinction. basically, the world has no choice but to institutionalize and "normalize" human cannibalism as a last ditch hope. and BABY, THEY DO.

it is so incredibly fucked up because the story is not even an interpretation of cannibalism itself. that's not what's supposed to GETCHA. essentially, they start literally breeding human beings to create a sort of secondary species to solely rely on for meat harvesting. it introduces people living (with the mental capacity of domesticated animals) as slaughterhouse cows do. so you're exposed to a sort of conscious separation of people and then humans who are not people and will never be viewed as such. they're meat. the main character is a nihilistic, depressed butcher who's profession is to quite literally slaughter "the meat."

i think what makes it so intense is the fact that it's not a barbaric story where the cannibalism itself is meant to be the big shock affect. it's set years after the initial "transition" to this lifestyle the world has been forced into, and it paints a picture of this sterile dehumanization of society with the presence of specific laws regarding human breeding/a sense of normalcy and acceptance based around the whole thing, etc. really showcases how easily our morals can be stripped from us. a slow, lethargic horror with graphic social commentary.

book contains some HARD ass quotes though. weirdly philosophical.

“He tried to hate all of humanity for being so fragile and ephemeral, but he couldn't keep it up because hating everyone is the same as hating no one.”

"How many heart need to be stored in boxes for the pain to be transformed into something else? But the pain, he intuits, is the only think that keeps him breathing. Without the sadness, he has nothing left."

#the main guy.................is tasked.....with watching over a female human breeding cow...................... #yeah. #whatever you're thinking? #it's worse #very much worse #like take what you're thinking and the ending of the book will be twenty times worse

[ofcloudsandstars]

Daily witchcraft ain't that exciting lol

To give some people an idea of what I've been up to from time to time.

Yesterday my work schedule got shifted around so I had a sudden day off. I was having a Mental Health Moment™ so I decided to do some shadow work and got some helpful clarity for now. I also read a bit of 'How To Heal Yourself When No One Else Can' by Amy B Scher which had some helpful advice in there. I also washed my hair and long showers always become a bit of a magical cleansing routine like its all about focusing on clearing energy and starting anew. I only use scentless soaps and have a charcoal soap block a witch friend in NYC gifted me to clear energy that I use on my skin.

Other than doing a bunch of errands that was it lol.

The day before I cleaned the SHIT out of my room it feels so good in here. I then finished the task with smoke cleansing.

Today I just woke up and did some dream oracling cause I had a weird ass segment of my dream that was concerning and stress-inducing. It was about a friend. I am still debating telling my friend about it but it didn't feel like a premonition just an unfortunate observation that I don't think will help him right now.

Today also has two intense astro aspects. We have mercury conjunct chiron and Mars square neptune. (be careful with your health and over exertion guys!) So if your mental health or even physical ailments have been flaring up the planets are being rude today lol. It's probably why I have been trying to work with it and do some shadow work cause I have been suppressing a lot of emotional pain that I am now trying to address like a haphazard sock drawer begging to be organized cause its nearly the end of my first saturn return transit and I am trying to get my head straight.

Tomorrow I have another full shift at work so maybe not much will happen. I may start working on May's Astrological forecast if it turns out to be a slow day.

I guess I am just rambling to give people an idea of what its like doing daily witchy things. It's not that exciting lol. I feel like the most exciting daily witchy things are like when synchronicities happen but they are hard to capture and hard to prove they are just like the most wonderful coincidences that make life feel special.

Sometimes when I am running late I try to channel mercury and do spells to get myself there right on time or sometimes everyone else just somehow ends up late so my 5 minutes means nothing lol. Sometimes things just work out to my favor in unforseen ways that make me feel kind of guilty cause I sometimes feel like I don't deserve it. I dunno I mean its just stuff like you have to be there for it. Cause even if it's just coincidence its more about the delivery and timing and the fact that I really wanted something in that moment and the universe was like: aight.

I think this topic bothers me a lot because capitalism really convoluted a lot of people's perception of witchcraft. It's not a job (unless you want it to be) I feel like its closer to the 'spiritual practice' category though its not really one either its more of a practice (that can help amplify your spiritual practice lol). It's more like a sense of awareness of your energy, the energy around you and using that energy to your needs. Sometimes this can develop into more complex magical craft making or ritual doing but on a daily basis this is like visualizing outcomes you want, divining and shifting your energy to shield yourself or put out glamours to get ahead lol.

I feel like the capitalism part bothers me because it does two things. Either makes witchcraft seem inaccessible unless you have a shit ton of money and time (and witchcraft to me is like anticapitalistic)- plus selling tools that are usually unethical cause they are mass produced now when it should be about making your own from local nature in your backyard. As well as making it so that you feel you have to be 'productive' in order to call yourself a witch

and the other thing is that it takes the practice, reduces it to a brand and then distorts the meaning. So people just getting into it are like lost in the sauce. I mean they did this with every counter culture but the original meaning just gets lost as it gets boiled down into an aesthetic. I feel like with witchcraft it was particularly malicious cause witchcraft is such a $free.99 finding your own empowerment/connection to yourself and nature that capitalism sought to turn it into something profitable and reduce it into some new age fantasy brand.

Anyway don't fall for capitalism's suffocating chokehold of feeling like if you want to be something, ANYTHING, that you have to perform it everyday and take pictures for proof to post online. This isn't just about witchcraft I am realizing this is destroying like all of our hobbies and anything we do for fun or that defines ourselves.

An example: I have trouble creating visual art because of social media now, when art should just be about you finding joy in expressing yourself. Now I do feel like you gotta post it online for validation even if you're not as experienced as you like to be. You feel the need to compare your journey to others and what you make to others. It's exhausting. Don't let capitalism do this to you. Especially your spiritual practice or your witchcraft practice. They are really personal practices. It's about your personal journey.

#another rant #I hate capitalism guys #I will shout about this forever #especially since it's aries season #I also hate witchtok #like cool if you like it but if you start feeling overwhelmed in your craft #its cause you are on witchtok #I feel like witchtok is this theatrical caricature of the craft #I dunno probably cause its dramatic teens that want attention and are in it for the clout #daily witchcraft #long post

[naturecpw]

How a New Hampshire libertarian utopia was foiled by bears

Seriously, this happened. You should absolutely read about it.

By Sean [email protected]@vox.com Dec 10, 2020

Every ideology produces its own brand of fanatics, but there’s something special about libertarianism.

I don’t mean that as an insult, either. I love libertarians! For the most part, they’re fun and interesting people. But they also tend to be cocksure about core principles in a way most people aren’t. If you’ve ever encountered a freshly minted Ayn Rand enthusiast, you know what I mean.

And yet one of the things that makes political philosophy so amusing is that it’s mostly abstract. You can’t really prove anything — it’s just a never-ending argument about values. Every now and again, though, reality intervenes in a way that illustrates the absurdity of particular ideas.

Something like this happened in the mid-2000s in a small New Hampshire town called Grafton. Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling, author of a new book titled A Libertarian Walks Into a Bear, says it’s the “boldest social experiment in modern American history.” I don’t know if it’s the “boldest,” but it’s definitely one of the strangest.

The experiment was called the “Free Town Project” (it later became the “Free State Project”), and the goal was simple: take over Grafton’s local government and turn it into a libertarian utopia. The movement was cooked up by a small group of ragtag libertarian activists who saw in Grafton a unique opportunity to realize their dreams of a perfectly logical and perfectly market-based community. Needless to say, utopia never arrived, but the bears did! (I promise I’ll explain below.)

I reached out to Hongoltz-Hetling to talk about his book. I wanted to know what happened in New Hampshire, why the experiment failed, and what the whole saga can teach us not just about libertarianism but about the dangers of loving theory more than reality.

How would you describe the “Free Town Project” to someone who doesn’t know anything about it?

Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling

I’d put it like this: There’s a national community of libertarians that has developed over the last 40 or 50 years, and they’ve never really had a place to call their own. They’ve never been in charge of a nation, or a state, or even a city. And they’ve always really wanted to create a community that would showcase what would happen if they implemented their principles on a broad scale.

So in 2004, a group of them decided that they wanted to take some action on this deficiency, and they decided to launch what they called the Free Town Project. They sent out a call to a bunch of loosely affiliated national libertarians and told everyone to move to this one spot and found this utopian community that would then serve as a shining jewel for the world to see that libertarian philosophies worked not only in theory but in practice. And they chose a town in rural New Hampshire called Grafton that already had fewer than 1,000 people in it. And they just showed up and started working to take over the town government and get rid of every rule and regulation and tax expense that they could.

Sean Illing Of all the towns in all the world, why Grafton?

Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling

They didn’t choose it in a vacuum. They actually conducted a very careful and thorough search. They zeroed in on the state of New Hampshire fairly quickly because that’s the “Live Free or Die” state. They knew that it would align well with their philosophy of individualism and personal responsibility. But once they decided on New Hampshire, they actually visited dozens of small towns, looking for that perfect mix of factors that would enable them to take over.

What they needed was a town that was small enough that they could come up and elbow the existing citizenry, someplace where land was cheap, where they could come in and buy up a bunch of land and kind of host their incoming colonists. And they wanted a place that had no zoning, because they wanted to be able to live in nontraditional housing situations and not have to go through the rigamarole of building or buying expensive homes or preexisting homes.

Sean Illing

Wait, what do you mean by “nontraditional housing”?

Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling

As the people of Grafton soon found out, a nontraditional housing situation meant a camp in the woods or a bunch of shipping containers or whatever. They brought in yurts and mobile homes and formed little clusters of cabins and tents. There was one location called “Tent City,” where a bunch of people just lived in tents from day to day. They all united under this broad umbrella principle of “personal freedom,” but as you’d expect, there was a lot of variation in how they exercised it.

Sean Illing

What did the demographics of the group look like? Are we talking mostly about white guys or Ayn Rand bros who found each other on the internet?

Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling

Well, we’re talking about hundreds of people, though the numbers aren’t all that clear. They definitely skewed male. They definitely skewed white. Some of them had a lot of money, which gave them the freedom to be able to pick up roots and move to a small town in New Hampshire. A lot of them had very little money and nothing keeping them in their places. So they were able to pick up and come in. But most of them just didn’t have those family situations or those 9-to-5 jobs, and that was really what characterized them more than anything else.

Sean Illing

And how did they take over the local government? Did they meet much resistance?

Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling

When they first showed up, they hadn’t told anyone that they were doing this, with the exception of a couple of sympathetic libertarians within the community. And so all of a sudden the people in Grafton woke up to the fact that their town was in the process of being invaded by a bunch of idealistic libertarians. And they were pissed. They had a big town meeting. It was a very shouty, very angry town meeting, during which they told the Free Towners who dared to come that they didn’t want them there and they didn’t appreciate being treated as if their community was an experimental playpen for libertarians to come in and try to prove something.

But the libertarians, even though they never outnumbered the existing Grafton residents, what they found was that they could come in, and they could find like-minded people, traditional conservatives or just very liberty-oriented individuals, who agreed with them on enough issues that, despite that angry opposition, they were able to start to work their will on the levers of government.

They couldn’t pass some of the initiatives they wanted. They tried unsuccessfully to withdraw from the school district and to completely discontinue paying for road repairs, or to declare Grafton a United Nations free zone, some of the outlandish things like that. But they did find that a lot of existing Grafton residents would be happy to cut town services to the bone. And so they successfully put a stranglehold on things like police services, things like road services and fire services and even the public library. All of these things were cut to the bone.

Sean Illing

Then what happened over the next few years or so?

Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling

By pretty much any measure you can look at to gauge a town’s success, Grafton got worse. Recycling rates went down. Neighbor complaints went up. The town’s legal costs went up because they were constantly defending themselves from lawsuits from Free Towners. The number of sex offenders living in the town went up. The number of recorded crimes went up. The town had never had a murder in living memory, and it had its first two, a double homicide, over a roommate dispute.

So there were all sorts of negative consequences that started to crop up. And meanwhile, the town that would ordinarily want to address these things, say with a robust police force, instead found that it was hamstrung. So the town only had one full-time police officer, a single police chief, and he had to stand up at town meeting and tell people that he couldn’t put his cruiser on the road for a period of weeks because he didn’t have money to repair it and make it a safe vehicle.

Basically, Grafton became a Wild West, frontier-type town.

https://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/21534416/free-state-project-new-hampshire-libertarians-matthew-hongoltz-hetling

#bears #libertarian #utopia #libertarian utopia

[jawritter]

A Thousand Years...

Chapter 1

Heart beats fast. Colors and promises. How to be brave. How can I love when I’m afraid to fall. But watching you stand alone. All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow…..

Summary: A soulmate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master. – Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

A new town, a new job, and a new life, one that you didn’t even expect……

Pairing: Reader x OFC Crystal, Reader x OFC Jessie Jensen Ackles x Reader.

Word Count: 1842

Warnings will include… Smut, language, unrequited/ requited love, cheating, and possibly more. This is gonna be a slow burn y’all!! This is brand new, so I will add to it as I know. Chapters will have warnings of their own if need be….

A/N: So my little cousin was watching breaking dawn in the living room, and I was folding clothes in the guest room… When the credits rolled and this song started, this fic hit me right in the face… I couldn’t escape it.. I don’t know yet how many chapters it will be! But If you want to be tagged let me know!! As always all mistakes are mine!! Feedback is gold!! Hope you guys enjoy this one!!

Fic Based on the Song A Thousand Years, by Christina Perri

Want more? Check out my Masterlist?

*****Masterlist*****

******Series Masterlist*****

Austin, Texas. A city that seemed to have a life force of its own. Full of art, culture, music, and people of all verities. There was very little that people didn’t love about this place once you visited it. It draws you in and keeps you there. Holding you like a giant magnet and never letting you go. Like it had its own invisible pull. 

Well, that’s what it did for you anyway. 

And what better place to start life over than right here in Austin, Texas. 

If there ever was a place in your mind you could start fresh, make something different of yourself, it was here; and if there was ever a place you could hide from you past it was here too. 

Pulling the last shirt out of your bag and folding it before placing it in your dresser, you take a deep breath and look around at your new apartment. It was small, only a studio apartment, but that’s all you could afford right now. Besides, it was a start. There was a waiting list to get into most of the places like this in Austin, and you were lucky enough to know the manager of this apartment complex. She was actually your sister-in-law.

Sure, it was cheating, but you always loved your brother and his wife; and when your life fell apart back home they were the ones that suggested you move here. 

Shoving the memories down of a failed engagement, and a promise of love that was obviously a lie, you make your way from your bedroom to your kitchen. You put on a small pot of coffee and sitting down with your laptop at the bar, letting out a sigh as you looked around your small space.

There was no point in dwelling on the past, only the future mattered now, or at least that what you kept telling yourself. 

You had been avoiding every type of social media and most relatives since Justin left you standing at the altar. You just didn’t want to talk about it anymore. It was humiliating enough to be the bride that apparently no one really wanted, and reliving it over and over again every time someone wanted to discuss it wasn’t something you wanted to do. That was one of the main reasons why you left your home town when you were invited to live out here. 

Crystal and your brother Jessie were the only people you knew in Austin. There were no high school classmates you had a danger of running into at the local supermarket, there were no “almost in-laws” living up the street from you. There were no ex fiances that you could run into at random moments in this town. No one knew you, no one knew your past, and no one would ever know if you had your way about it. 

You left all that behind when you got in your car and drove to Austin, not looking back, and burying that part of you deep, deep down; never to be dug up by anyone else again. 

You were just about to log onto the resume builder to start working on your resume when you heard a pounding on the door. That could only be one of two people, so you didn’t bother getting up to answer the door.

“It’s open!” you yell in the direction of the front door, not even bothering to look up when the door opened and Crystal flounced into the apartment, dropping her purse down on the bar next to you before flopping down on the vacant bar stool. 

“So, you get yourself settled okay?” she asked, looking around your apartment like she’d never seen one before even though she works for the apartment complex and looks at the same damn floor plan every day.

“Yup,” you mumble, popping the P at the end. Not bothering to look up from your computer as you did.

You were a little aggravated that your brother and his wife and insisted on paying your rent up three months ahead for you, giving you a “jump-start” while you look for a job around here that could support you.

“You are still annoyed with me for paying the rent up aren’t you?” She ask, a smirk on her tinted lips. She was always one to apply the makeup heavy, and when she was at work she laid it on pretty thick.

“Yup,” you said again, hopeful she’d just drop the subject so that you could concentrate. 

You’d been working for a local bar while you were still in your hometown, and so far that’s the only “job” experience you had. So you were basically just staring at your resume, with your past employer's information on it, and nothing else… 

Maybe this was going to be a little harder than you thought it was going to be. 

Crystal looked over your shoulder at your laptop screen, reading over your last employment information. 

“So...got any idea what you want to do now that you’re here in Austin?” she asks you, stating the question like you might bight her head off if she caught you in the wrong mood. 

Maybe you had been a little touchy lately, but you’d been through a lot, and your trust in people was pretty much nonexistent at this point. 

The one person you let yourself trust, the one person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with, had let you down in one of the most humiliating ways possible, and it was going to take a lot to get past that. Even though you didn’t even want to admit it to yourself, you were pretty hung up on what happened to you. It wasn’t even “hurt” at this point, you were angry with Justin, and with most of the male population in general.

“Not a damn clue,” you admitted, running your hand through your hair and getting up to fix your cup of coffee, walking away from the most pathetic work experience list that you’d ever seen in your life on a resume for a moment before you started to cry again. 

So much for a fresh start.

You were going to starve to death before you could find a damn job with a list of work experiences like the one you had, or at least that’s what the little sarcastic voice in your head retorted to you before laughing maliciously. 

“Look there are a lot of bars and things around here in Austin. My suggestion is go with what you know. It may not be exactly the change you were looking for, but it will keep you in food and clothes while you look for something different that will let you start out on a training level.” 

You pass her a cut of coffee across the small island bar in the middle of your kitchen before setting back down with a defeated huff, staring at your computer like if you stared at it long enough, you could will it to change it to suit you better.

Sighing defeatedly you exit out of the resume builder and start googling local bars you could walk around downtown to and see if they need a bartender. Thankfully you had just renewed your liquor license before you moved here, so at least you had that working for you. 

“It’s not all bad you know, you get to meet all kinds of people in Austin working at a bar. Musicians, artists, hell we even got a few famous actors that live around here! You never know, mister right might walk right into one of those places and sweep you right off your feet,” she said, giving you an elbow to the ribs. You grimaced at her from the top of your coffee cup.

“I’m not looking for Mr. Right or Mr. Anyone for that matter. I’ve had enough of dating, relationships, and men right now to last me a lifetime,” you retort a little more sadistically than you probably actually intended. 

“Oh come on, Y/N! There’s nothing wrong with having someone to have a little fun with. You’re a young, attractive woman. Don’t count off all men just because of one asshole. You will be surprised by the men out there that would give their left arm to have a chance with you. You sell yourself too short,” she chided, watching your reaction closely. 

Shrugging, your roll your eyes dramatically as your brother burst through the door, not even bothering to knock.

“What’s up, ladies?” Jessie said, sitting down a few boxes of pizza on the bar in front of you.

“Dinner is served! I thought I’d be nice and pick up dinner for you girls tonight since Chris has to work late and you’re just getting settled,” he said, leaning against the bar, looking over your computer at your computer before you slammed it closed. 

“My hero,” you said with a sneer. 

Crystal snickered at you before opening the pizza box and grabbing a slice. “Dear God. Pizza and coffee for supper. I feel like I’m in college all over again.” 

“Fuck, at this point I wish I’d have gone to college. I’m never going to find a job here that’s not slinging drinks for a bunch of drunk men at all hours of the night,” you grumble, grabbing a slice of your own.

“So that’s up with the list of local watering holes you had pulled up there? Here I was thinking you just wanted to get tossed,” he said sarcastically. 

“No jackass, it’s just the only job I’m qualified for,” you growl, shooting him the finger and causing a coughing fit from Crystal who was laughing hysterically next to you.

“Well, you know if you are not interested in the whole bar scene anymore there’s a fairly new brewery that has opened up in Dripping Springs, Texas. One of our local celebrities and his family opened it up. They might be looking for someone. It is out in the country, it closes fairly early, usually it’s shut down by like 11 at night. It’s a bar, but it’s not a bar. Hell, you might even like it. Live music, trivia nights, I think it’d be a good thing for you,” he said, walking around you grabbing a glass and feeling it with water before returning back to the opposite side of the bar.

Rubbing your face with your free hand and taking a deep breath you tried to decide what to do. It didn’t sound that bad, but could things actually work out like you were supposed to? Could things actually go that right, or would it be just something that you got your hopes up for again and got let down?

Jessie could see your internal battle, reaching across the bar he grabbed your shoulder and made you look at him. 

“I’ll tell you what, both Chris and I have tomorrow off, let’s drive out there and see if they’re looking for anyone to hire. Either way, it might be fun. You deserve to have a little fun after everything that you’ve been through. Let’s just go have a good family day.”

“Okay, okay fine!” you said, leaning back and crossing your arms over your chest. “We’ll go check it out.”

Deep down inside there was a twinge of nerves you hadn’t felt in a very long time, and you didn’t know what to make of it, but you knew that if this worked out it could be the change you were looking for. 

Could you really be that lucky?

———————————————————————————————-

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x you #jensen x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fic #jensen fanfiction #jensen fic #spn #spn fanfiction #spn fic #spn smut #jensen ackles smut #jensen smut #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural #jawritter #a thousand years