#the family breadbox
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the siblings have met.
Loaf absolutely adores Bun. She loves him with the wild abandon of a two year old whose idea of restraint is an aggressive smack and a headlock.
Bun is fascinated by Loaf and remembers all his bodily needs as soon as she leaves his presence.
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Cry, Cry, Cry Baby
Eddie Munson x NewMother
Being parents to a new baby can be overwhelming, Eddie is determined to bring his love some relief.
Warnings: Themes of Post Pardem Depression, Mom Guilt and Baby Blues. If you have experienced these, please read at your own discretion. This does not depict how every mother/ family experiences PPD as everyone is different.
Masterlist
x x x
The never ceasing wails- how could a scream so piercing come from such a small body? The shrill cry felt like it was an ever restricting rubber band between her temples every second it continued.
Burning tears, running down both mom and babies cheeks like a rapid flowing river.
It felt as though an elephant was standing on her chest as guilt and hopelessness settled deep.
Her elbows were weak from hours of rocking and clutching onto her child, holding the baby so close it seemed she was trying to absorbed the child back into her body where she knew it would be safe… and quiet.
She had ridiculed Eddie the first time he had done it, snuggle their child up and lay them in the empty bread box as he set forth cleaning the kitchen.
She leaned against the couch with the tattered throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders, attempting to swaddle herself to see how much comfort it could bring the baby while it lay in the cardboard box by her side, its wail still piercing the air of the otherwise peaceful trailer park.
Eddie hated when he was stuck at work longer than planned, even if his peeling leather wallet thanked him. From the moment he stepped into the Plant, the only thing on his mind was going home to his soon-to-be wife and their beautiful daughter. He wished he could say his daughter was a little angel, but truthfully the past 3 months had been the most testing months of his life. She woke up from her sleep nearly every hour- Eddie would thank every God if she managed to make it a mere 2 hours. Her piercing wail reminded him of a siren, it would go off every few moments if she wasn’t being bounced at the right tempo of “Does Your Mother Know” by Abba. Eddie suspects her mother constantly dancing to Abba while pregnant is the culprit, he is starting to regret splurging to buy her all the albums for their 2 year anniversary.
He can hear his baby girl crying as soon as he steps out of the car, he is met with an unusual sight when he enters the double wide trailer. The baby is laying in the breadbox, unharmed and doing what she does best, wailing until she is red in the face. His love is sitting next to her with her head buried in her arms, her wails just as loud as the baby. He kneels in front of her, gently shaking her shoulder with one had as his other reaches for the baby.
“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” He can barely make out the words she gasps out between cries, “I failed. I’m a failure, she won’t stop crying.”
A vice grip takes hold of Eddie’s pounding heart. He should have seen the signs before it boiled to this point. He had heard about it from Steve, Nancy had struggled after the birth of their second child, he should have recognized that you were struggling too.
“Hey, it’s okay. I promise that you are not a failure, it’s okay to get overwhelmed.” Eddie had to blink the tears from his own eyes as his love looked at him so helplessly, “I’ve got the baby, why don’t you go take a bath then we can talk, alright?”
With a tender kiss to the top of her head, he grabs hold of her hands and pulls her to her feet, sending her in the direction of the bathroom. Eddie scoops the baby out of the box, gently humming to her as he bounces to the kitchen in the tempo of Abba. He continues to hum despite her cries as he starts heating a bottle in boiling water on the stove top, finding the diaper bag abandoned on their tiny dining table. He changes the baby’s diaper and does his best to wipe the tear stained cheeks of his daughter. He can hear the water in the tub slosh around as his love makes herself comfortable, the cries she were attempting to muffle slowly ceasing as the hot water soothes the aches of her body and mind.
His baby girl stops crying as he begins to hum the song for the sixth time, just in time for her bottle to reach a drinkable temperature. He dials the phone to the number that has slowly been ingrained into his brain over the past few years as the baby continues to eat peacefully in his arms.
“Hi Steve, can I talk to Nance?”
#stranger things 4#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#joesph quinn#eddie munson x original character#eddie munson x oc#eddie munson x reader
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Outcooked - Sonny Carisi
It was no secret that Sonny was an amazing cook, he would come home from work and immediately go to the kitchen. Sometimes he would even take over when I was in the kitchen, much to my dismay.
"Hey Sonnny, have you seen my recipe cards?" I climbed onto the counter to reach one of the high cabinets, he liked to hide things up there.
"Did you check the breadbox?" he yelled back from the office.
"Why would it be from the breadbox?" I stumbled off the counter, landing right on my ass, I lay on the ground in the starfish position for a couple of minutes, thinking.
"Doll, you okay?" I didn't even hear him walk in.
"Hm?" I turned my head to him, "How long have I been down here?"
"About 20 minutes. How about you go shower while I make dinner?" He sat down next to me and laid my head in his lap, combing his fingers through my hair.
"No, it's my turn to cook, I just need to find my cards."
"Y/N, you can make dessert. Go shower."
"I can't get up."
------ DUN DUN ------
I stepped out of the shower, and smelled something... burning? Sonny burning something is unheard of. Once I was dressed I walked into the kitchen where Sonny was stumbling around, dropping things and mumbling not-so-family-friendly things to himself. "Sonny? What did you do?" He whipped around to me and let out a long heavy sigh.
"You are a psychopath."
"Excuse me?"
"Why do you write your recipes like this!?" He held one of my recipe cards up to my face, I'm guessing he was talking about all the messy scribbles and notes.
"Because that's how I cook darling." I chuckled and smoothed his disheveled hair.
"Well, you cook like a psychopath, this one has two arrows pointing to it."
"No, that one is scratched out." I pointed out the marks on the writing, "My pen ran out of ink."
"Doll, you outbaked me."
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Who's Do Those Dog Tag's Belong To? - Elle Greenaway
Hey guys I hope you enjoy this one-shot, this is my first time publishing my writing so there may be some mistakes and if you want to view more of my content I will place a link to my youtube below.
The beeping of her alarm clock interrupted Elle’s peaceful sleep. A groan leaving her lips as she grabbed her phone from her end table and pressed the snooze button.
Placing it back on the table she closed her eyes, hoping to fall back to sleep but she knew it was no use.
She turned to her side, her wife Y/N sleeping peacefully with her arm around Ellie midsection. Sighing Elle carefully got up and trudged to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
The two of you had met back at Seattle were you were on leave relaxing at a local bar and two had quickly become friends and later something more. It was only when you were training to become a doctor that things changed. You ended up doing a rotation as a doctor in the military, and on your return when you were discharged, Ellie was the only one there to meet you at the airport, because she was your partner.
She was the only one there for you as you adjusted to being back at home, leading to you giving her your dog tags as you began your residency at Seattle hospital in Trauma Surgery.
Opening the fridge she pulled out some cream along with a pack of bacon. She grabbed a pan from the cupboard and tossed it on the stove, turning the burner to medium.
Seizing the bread from the breadbox on the counter she took out four pieces and popped them in the toaster. She paced four strips of bacon into the heated pan.
Soft hands wrapped around her waist, Y/N’s head resting on her shoulder. “Morning.” She mumbled, pressing soft kisses up and down Elle’s neck.
“Morning babe.” Elle responded, turning to face the other woman. She gave her a loving kiss, grinning as she pulled away. “Breakfast is almost done, go sit down.”
Y/N hummed, grabbing the coffee pot and two mugs as she headed to the table. Pouring sugar she stirred her coffee before she made her wife’s.
Elle came to the table, two plates of bacon and toast in her hands. She set the plates on the table before sitting down and taking a sip of her coffee.
Y/N took a bite of her bacon, moaning when it touched her tongue. “So good.” She murmured before grabbing another bite.
“Glad you like it.” Elle laughed.
“No cases today?”
“Nope, so I thought I’d have breakfast with the lovely Mrs.” Elle teased.
“Always the romantic.” Y/N quipped.
The couple quickly finished their breakfast, putting the dishes in the sink.
Elle turned to her wife, letting her hands drift to her hips.
Y/N giggled. “ Love it’s so early.”
The brunette ignored her, pushing her into the countertop as she peppered kisses down her lover’s neck.
Y/N relented, pulling on the bottom of Elle’s shirt. Elle put her hands up allowing the other girl to pull it off completely.
Their lips connected, Y/N’s hands tugging lightly on Elle’s hair. A soft moan left the latters mouth as she began pulling down her wife’s shorts.
The insistent ringing of Elle’s phone cause the pair to pull away, a groan leaving Y/N’s lips.
Elle gave her a teasing smirk before going to the bedroom to grab her cellphone. Hotch’s name flashed across the screen and Elle groaned before answering. “You know you’re a real cock block.” She huffed.
“Sorry, we got a case. It’s local though so don’t worry about the go bag.” His gruff voice drifted through the receiver.
“Be there in ten.” Elle responded before she hung up. Turning around she noticed Y/N lingering in the doorway.
“Case?” She questioned.
“I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you.” The brunette quickly stripped teasing her audience slightly before grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of black dress pants.
“It’s okay, go save the world.” The other woman responded as she crossed the room to give her a loving kiss.
“Mmm.” Elle hummed into the kiss, reluctantly pulling away and grabbing her phone and keys. “I love you!” She called as she ran out the door.
“Love you too.” Y/N called back.
///
Elle walked through the doors of the bau, two trays of drinks in her hands as she headed for the meeting room.
Walking in she was greeted by the team surrounding her, she chuckled.
“Coffee!” JJ cheered as she grabbed the cup with her name on it.
“Just the way you like it.” She answered, handing them their cup’s. “Oh and I got you a hot chocolate PG.
Penelope squealed as she grabbed her cup. “Thank you!”
“You’re the best” Morgan applauded.
“You even got one for the cockblock?” Hotch teased as he took a sip of his drink.
Morgan whistled. “We interrupted a little party with your boyfriend, did we?”
Elle rolled her eyes. “We’ve got a case.” She said as she sat down.
Morgan gave her one of his teasing smirks before focusing on the screen.
///
You were aware that Ellie wore your tags but was unsure if any of the team had seen them.
Most of the team weren't aware that Ellie was even in a relationship, let alone wore her significant other's dog tags. That was until PG spotted her fiddling with them when lost in thought, however before she could ask Ellie left with Reid to get more coffee.
“Hey, did you know Ellie wears someone's dog tags?" PG enquired, turning to Morgan and JJ as they frowned.
"Ellie? I didn't even think she was seeing anyone, maybe the dog tags are a family thing?" Morgan asked, leaving JJ to frown.
"Or a lovers thing, for all we know, she's been in a relationship this whole time and nobody knew." JjJ replied, folding her arms as PG raised an eyebrow at her response.
///
A tired and frustrated sigh left Elle as she sat in her chair. It had been some hours and so far they’d had nothing. Looking at the clock she noticed it was around lunch time.
A soft smile came to her face as she pulled out her phone and sent a text to Y/N.
Wife💖
Elle: Hi babe, how are you?
Y/N: I’m good, figuring what to get for lunch. How’s the case?
Elle: It’s not really going anywhere.
Y/N: I’m sorry love, do you want me to bring you lunch?
Elle: You ready to meet my team?
Y/N: If they put up with you I think we’d get along😂
Elle: Hey, I’m an angel
Y/N: Mhm more like a devil, I’ll be there in 10. I’ll make sure to get your favourite
Elle: You’re the best xxx
Y/N: I know xxx
Elle laughed softly before putting her phone away.
“What’s got you all happy?” JJ asked.
“Has it got anything to do with loverboy?” Morgan asked, wiggling his brows.
Elle let out a chuckle “You’ve have no idea what you talking about.”
Penelope walked into the bullpen, just catching sight of Ellie intent of asking about the dog tags. “hey Ellie who do the dog tags belong to?” She asked.
“You wear dog tags” asked Reid with a surprised face, however before she could answer Hotch interrupted.
“Elle?” Hotch called.
Said woman looked up, “Yes sir?”
He pointed his head to the door, Y/N standing there with a bag of food in one hand and her guest badge in the other.
“Who’s that?” Penelope asked aloud.
“My wife.” Elle said, getting up help her.
The team watched in shock as Elle got up and gave Y/N a kiss before taking the food from her.
“You have a wife?” Morgan asked.
“No way!” Penelope yelled running up to the pair. “Hi I’m Penelope! Can I just say that you’re gorgeous!” She gushed.
Y/N laughed. “Thank you, but I think you’re just a beautiful.”
Hotch held his hand out, which Y/N shook. “It’s good to see you again.” He said.
“You two know each other?” JJ asked.
“My file does say I’m married, plus Y/N babysits Jack sometimes.” Elle responded.
Spencer gave a wave. “I’m Spence.” He called.
Y/N smiled back. “That must make you Morgan, you JJ and you’re Jason Gideon?” She asked.
“Yup! It’s great to meet you.” JJ said, shaking her hand.
“You as well! I’ve heard so much about you all.”
“Wish we could say the same for you.” Gideon said as he shook her hand.
“Well we wanted to keep things on the down low, you know?”
“Plus you never asked me.” Elle quipped.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Morgan responded before turning to Elle. “Guess I didn’t know what i was talking about”
She just responded with a laugh. “The dog tags are also belong to her if you were still curious” Ellie stated after having one last chuckle.
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The Protolith: Chapter 1
[TW: sex work]
Charlotte's Past
***
Charlotte spent her nights one of two ways: seducing wealthy men at lavish parties or studying the cardiovascular system of a stolen cadaver. Though she vastly preferred the company of cadavers to men, tonight, Charlotte attended the former.
She sat languidly in a velvet chair, a brocade fan balanced between her thumb and middle finger. What was typically a library now held more than a dozen rich men – either stag or with their adventurous wives – and whores. Regardless of status, the density of bodies left the air gelatinous. Unfortunately, the theme of the party was masquerade – just another layer atop sweat-covered skin. Charlotte fanned herself for comfort rather than flirtation.
“You’d think Lorenzia’s upper crust could open a window.” Edith leaned over and whispered in her ear. Edith, more practiced, hid her lips behind a pastel fan when she complained. Her every move felt intentional; when she angled herself toward Charlotte, men’s eyes dipped down her slender neck into the crevice of her décolletage. None of those men know the real her; they all thought her name was Eve! Expertly, Edith hid her real self like an old secret, comfortably tucked away like a library book. She taught Charlotte to do the same.
“Maybe they like to see us sweat,” Charlotte joked. The other whores – of either gender – wore just about anything: full skirts without a bodice, trousers and no shirt, or gowns cut mid-thigh. Charlotte and Edith wore the latter.
Charlotte didn’t know why Edith had decided to befriend her just a year prior. After too many dangerous encounters working the street, Charlotte had met Edith while searching for a safer boarding house. On that fateful day, Edith invited her to work at her brothel, an upstanding establishment by the docks and west of downtown. Though the customers ran the gamut – sailors and dockworkers, priests and soldiers, merchant men and the gentlemen – they were all kinder than those who prowled the street corners.
“You should have seen the parties last year,” Edith replied. A halo of blond ringlets sat pinned on her head. Occasionally, she’d pat at the curls to make sure they remained in place. “Just a disgusting number of bodies crammed into this hall. One night, I swear I made enough gold to fill a breadbox.”
“You did not,” Charlotte teased.
“Oh, don’t be jealous. It’s not my fault they’re all clutching their purses,” Edith replied. Ever since the assassination of Emperor Ambrose d’Leone, the gentry became conservative: politically, socially, and unfortunately, financially.
Edith stiffened. She changed how she sat, making sure just a sliver of her milky thigh was visible from fifty feet away. Only Edith could act so ludicrously and come across as a subtle tempress. Charlotte’s brown eyes flickered away, locking eyes with a man across the room. He smiled back at the two women with an asymmetric grin. His golden-brown hair contrasted the woman standing next to him, olive-skinned with jet black hair and clad in silk.
“Your regular has spotted you.”
With the flick of a wrist, Edith straightened her golden skirt. Unlike the wives at the party, neither Edith nor Charlotte had a large selection of gowns. Charlotte wore a dress she’d stolen from her family home: navy with yellow lace trim and sleeves which fell off her shoulders. Edith and Charlotte had shopped that afternoon for masks, and though Charlotte had bought her favorite, a lace black mask loosely resembling a bird, Edith was quick to point out that it did not flatter her brown eyes.
“I know.” Wary of eye contact, Edith peered only briefly in her regular’s direction. “You’d think Marc would be satisfied with one consort.”
“Why keep throwing these parties?” Charlotte asked.
Their host, General Marc d’Atlas, was known for throwing intimate and exclusive parties for his inner circle. Though sacreligious, Marc’s relation to one of the five old houses gave him leeway that most war priests lacked. Thus, the soirees remained an open secret, attracting both married gentry seeking adventure outside of wedlock and the church-bound military men held by a mandatory vow of celibacy. This party in particular was not just the first of the social season, but also the first of Charlotte’s life.
“I heard he actually loves her,” Edith mused, ignoring Charlotte’s question. Her eyes didn’t move from Marc’s raven-haired consort, Rose.
“Why else take the risk?” Charlotte replied. Orthodox factions of the city considered consorts less than prostitutes.
At least a whore knows her place.
“Desire,” was Edith’s only answer. Surely, men had made worse mistakes in the name of desire. Charlotte smirked, but said nothing else. After just a moment of silence, Edith rose with a sigh.
“I supposed I should take my leave.” She smiled down toward Charlotte. “Enjoy the party.”
As soon as Edith glided away, Charlotte smothered a frown. She knew the rules at the brothel or at a gala, but here, lasciviousness collided with aristocratic sensibilities. Absent-mindedly, Charlotte toyed with a lock of her auburn hair which had painfully tangled with the ribbon of her mask. In that moment of frustration, Charlotte wondered why these men needed such a pretext to pay for sex. She strived then to make herself unseen.
Charlotte had a talent for making herself noticed – an alluring aura, as Edith called it. Therefore, she could do the opposite. The thick air became overbearing. Sweat beaded at the swell of her bosom, drawing attention to the dark freckles which colored her otherwise tan skin and eroding her patience. In search of a window, Charlotte aimed to make herself imperceptible.
The front of the library acted as a parlor room, decorated with velvet chairs and hors d'oeuvres, but just a few steps back the room was densely packed with bookshelves. The back wall had four large windows looking out onto the midnight streets. In the back corner, Charlotte cracked open a window. The welcome breeze smelled of rain and moist earth, intermixed with the scent of parchment behind her. She shut her eyes for just a moment.
“Looks like we had the same idea.”
Charlotte nearly jumped at the deep voice behind her. She turned, and behind her stood a tall, dark-haired man. From his rigid posture and imposing presence, she immediately pegged him a military man. But when his eyes turned from the window to her, they nearly looked through her. His eyes were so dark, in this dim light she couldn’t tell if they were brown or navy.
Thankfully, the buzz of the party was loud enough to cover the slam of the window closing.
“Sorry.” His brow furrowed. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Oh, that’s alright,” she tripped over her words.
The stranger was older. When he frowned, slight lines formed around his lips and the outer corners of his eyes. His sharp jaw was highlighted by an ungroomed beard, as though he’d just returned from a mission, or he simply didn’t care enough to shave before this event. In his calloused hand, he held a crystal glass of red wine. His face was concealed with an undecorated, green mask.
“We haven’t met,” he said. He leaned against the back wall, but he didn’t look at ease. Like his mask, he dressed plainly, with a black button down tucked into dark, linen trousers.
Charlotte exhaled. “I’m Chastity.”
***
Read the rest of the chapter here!
#writeblr#chapter 1#fantasy#romance#dark fantasy#current wip#writing#women of color#excerpt#creative writing#protolith#protolith chapters#nonlinear
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Your cryptic family heirloom is a breadbox. Whatever the breadbox contains never goes bad.
so basically a box where time is stopped inside of it? you bet im abusing the hell out of that
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I Wanna Go Home for Christmas
I Wanna Go Home For Christmas
Kevin hates everything about winter.
It's cold, it's wet, it's gray, and it's lonely.
The silence that happens on winter nights chills him more than the temperature ever could.
Kevin can't remember the last time he enjoyed any winter activity and he hasn't seen his family for the holidays in the past 5 years. He's more than fine with that.
Except his best friend Ben Tennyson refuses to leave him alone for Christmas.
Cross posted on AO3 X
A no powers AU set where Kevin meets Ben and Gwen later in life.
Dec. 23rd
Winter’s never been great for Kevin.
He vaguely remembers a warm feeling from his muddled memories of being a small child. The brightly colored Christmas lights on the small tree his mom had bought. The smell of baked goods from the apartments tiny kitchen. A cartoon playing in a faint memory.
The small amount of warmth or nostalgia it gives him is clouded over from years of the bitter cold biting him.
It’s so gray. He thinks.
Winter is nothing but bleak grays and freezing nights that feel lonelier than others.
At least in the summer the windows are open, he can hear people outside at anytime of the day, the sun doesn’t disappear until nine at night, and he can smell the rain or the flowers.
He can imagine he’s somewhere else besides his breadbox of an apartment.
He’s never liked the biting cold and the frozen ice as it nips at his fingertips and nose. He bumps up the heat in his car just thinking about it.
Maybe it was his runaway years, his divorced parents, or maybe it was just that he didn’t think he was a good person. Either way, the holidays and winter were rough for Kevin Levin.
But this year, his best friend is dragging him along.
He’s waiting outside Ben’s apartment for him, freezing in the car, windshield wipers going fast to flick the snow off his car. He’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and shaking his leg with anxious energy.
“I’m going back home if Tennyson doesn’t hurry his ass up.” Kevin bites out to himself in a grumble. He lays on his horn.
Ben comes out his door in a flurry of excitable energy. He’s holding his duffle bag and another arm is filled with small paper bags that are sure to be his families presents. His messy brown hair is poking out in curls under a beanie as he scowls at Kevin before sticking his tongue out at him.
Kevin pops his trunk open for him and lays on the horn one more time for fun.
Ben opens the door and the frigid air bites at Kevin’s skin and a shiver runs down his back.
Ben slams the door shut, “You didn’t have to blow the horn Kev, I was literally leaving.” Ben grumbles as he puts his hands out to warm them from the vents.
Kevin reverses out of the parking lot and the car screeches and lurches forward. “I’m freezing here Tennyson I just want to get goin’. It’s a two-hour drive.”
Ben nods his head and settles into the seat. “Thanks for driving. I promise you’re gonna have a good time. My mom will be all over you. She’s already set up my old room into a guest bedroom and asked what your favorite foods are.” Ben smiles lopsided at Kevin in a warm gesture.
Kevin’s stomach knots itself. He feels twitchy and almost thinks about dropping Ben off and turning right back around. He really isn’t into big family events. Kevin’s family never did them. Or maybe he was just never invited to them. Families make him uncomfortable.
It’s something Kevin doesn’t have or think he ever will.
He gives Ben a tight and awkward smile. He turns his radio on to signify he doesn’t want to talk anymore and Ben understands. He always does.
-
Kevin’s face is considerably pale as him and Ben empty their car outside of the Tennyson family home.
The drive was the shortest two hour road trip, the sun has already disappeared from the sky, and it’s only five in the afternoon. The cold from earlier is even more frigid and Kevin can feel it in his teeth and bones. He wants to be anywhere else right now. He shoves his face deeper into his gray scarf and pulls his beanie down past his ears snuggly. It won’t help but he can hope.
He notices there is an RV that looks to be lucky it’s running parked on the curb. The thing is so rusty Kevin wonders if it’s ever moved from that spot. He sees another couple of cars parked in the driveway too. They seem to be the last ones to arrive.
Kevin’s debating how bad it would be if he just decided to ditch now, but it’s too late when the door opens and the warm yellow light floods out framing an older blonde woman softly. Her face instantly lights up upon seeing Ben and she ushers them inside.
“Ben! I’m so happy you’re home. I’m almost done with dinner you can go put your bags in your old room.” The small woman gives him such a fierce bear hug; Kevin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He awkwardly follows them in and shuts the door to ban the cold from entering.
When she finally let’s go of her son her sights are on Kevin. She gives Kevin the same treatment like she’s known him for years.
“Kevin I’m so happy you could come!” She hugs him tightly and he has to bend slightly for her to fully reach him. He can feel how stiff he is and doesn’t return the gesture.
He’s like an opossum. He wants to play dead.
She let’s go and pats his arms and gives him a good once over. She must like what she sees and grins at him.
“I’m so glad Ben invited you. He’s been talking about asking you to come since Thanksgiving.”
Ben’s face flushes. “Mom!” He groans. “Come on Kev we can put our stuff done and come back down.”
Ben’s mother rolls her eyes at her son.
“Remember it’s a guest room Ben! Do not immediately get it dirty like last time!” she shouts after him as the two young men climb the stairs.
“I’m twenty-two not twelve.” Ben grumbles to himself as Kevin follows him.
They make into a decently sized bedroom. There’s a daybed that’s made with the trundle underneath pulled out and made too. There’s a closet and a dresser with a small television sitting on top of it. It’s playing one of those ambient music channels with a fire log playing on the screen.
There’s also a nice winter scented candle lit as well.
Ben throws his bags down next to the daybed and reaches his hands out for Kevin’s.
“Home sweet home.” Ben says and smiles at Kevin.
“Something like that.” Kevin replies.
Ben smacks his back in reassurance. “It’ll be great dude. It’s us, my parents, aunt and uncle, cousin, and my grandpa. It’ll be a good time.”
Kevin just nods his head and let’s Ben ramble and he drags him along.
“My dad and uncle Frank tend to spend most of the holiday watching sports and tagging along with Grandpa Max. He takes them fishing mostly. Grandpa tried to take me and Gwen once but we realized we only liked it on summer road trips. Not for Christmas.” Ben rattles on.
“Mom and aunt Natalie are almost never home. They go out almost every day. Sometimes Gwen joins but that usually is like pulling teeth out of her to go.”
“Usually it’s Ken, Gwen, and I for Christmas shenanigans. But Ken couldn’t make it this year. He’s visiting his fiancés family.” Kevin can see Ben roll his eyes at that.
Out of one of the doors upstairs is a woman with short ginger hair and a sweater she’s swimming in. She’s engrossed in her phone and almost plows into Kevin.
Her head snaps up and her green eyes flash to Kevin’s deep brown. She quirks a perfect eyebrow at him before turning her head to Ben.
She pockets her phone and smiles widely at Ben, “Hey doofus.” She says fondly and reaches to hug him.
“Hey dweeb.” He replies in the same tone and gives her a tight squeeze before letting go.
Kevin notices her and Ben are roughly the same size. Ben’s maybe more built with muscle but he’s still scrawny compared to Kevin.
Gwen’s eyes roam back to Kevin, her eyebrow still raised. Before she can ask Ben beats her to it.
“Gwen this is Kevin. He’s spending Christmas with us!” Ben says excitedly clapping Kevin on his broad back.
It doesn’t move him but does startled him for a second.
Gwen looks over him, and it almost feels scrutinizing. Kevin’s never felt this nervous before. Whatever she’s looking for she finds it and smiles broadly at him.
He just stares at her.
“Nice to meet you Kevin. Hope we don’t run you off after the weeks over.” She gives him a small wave and makes her way downstairs.
“Come on I’m starving.” Ben states following after Gwen.
-
The Tennyson family is rowdy.
That’s the only word that springs to mind as Kevin sits at the dinner table. He’s sitting with Ben and Gwen who are all but shouting over each other to tell stories.
Their grandpa sits on the other side of Kevin and rotates in and out of conversation with his own sons or his grandchildren. Then Kevin can hear Ben and Gwen’s mom occasionally cackle about something on the other side of the table.
Sensory overload for sure… but not in a bad way.
The noise settles and drums in the back of Kevin’s head but he isn’t irritated by the chattering happening. It’s charming to him. They’re all so happy to see each other and jumping down each other’s throats in excitement not anger. It’s different. It’s warm.
“So, how do you know Ben?” he hears a small but clear voice cut through his thoughts.
He turns his head, it’s Gwen. She’s looking at him expectantly.
Kevin feels himself flush in embarrassment for a moment and stutters over his words.
“Uh, we meet through Rook actually. I work in the auto shop with him. Rook invited me out for drinks one night and I didn’t immediately hate him.” Kevin smirks nudging Ben.
Ben rolls his eyes, “Hardy har Kev. You’d stay locked up in your apartment if it wasn’t for me.”
Gwen ignores Ben’s statement, “Oh that is a feat indeed. It’s so easy to hate Ben upon first meeting.” she smiles playfully.
“He was too wrapped up in Rook to be overly obnoxious.” Kevin continues the joke.
“Hey! That is not true!” Ben’s face goes red in embarrassment.
“Oh.” Gwen says knowingly, “Is this the same Rook you’ve had the hots for? Hasn’t it been over a year?” She asks Ben smirking at him trying to hid a bubble of laughter.
Ben groans and covers his face with his hands, “You guys suck! You can’t just tag team me like this.”
Kevin scoffs. “If you would just ask Rook out we wouldn’t be doggin’ you so much.” He takes a sip from his drink smiling back at Gwen.
She reaches her arm across the table to grab at Ben’s arm, “Come on it’s kind of funny. Why haven’t you asked him out yet though? You told me around Halloween you would.” She asks genuinely.
Kevin raises his brow at this.
Ben brings his arms back down and pushes around the food on his plate and just shrugs his shoulders.
“I’m worried he just sees me as a friend. Or worse…” Ben looks up at Gwen, “He’s straight.”
Gwen and Kevin roll their eyes collectively.
“He’s not straight.” They say in unison.
Ben deflates a little, “I’m just scared.” He looks up at Gwen and scratches the back of his head. “You know I don’t handle rejection well.”
Gwen nods her head in understanding at something Kevin doesn’t know. He won’t pry them for it. Ben will tell him if he wants to.
“Enough about Rook.” Ben states and sits up straighter. He waggles his brows at Gwen, “What about that Mike dude you meet at work?” he asks Gwen.
Now it’s her turn to be disgruntled. She sighs heavily, “Yeah that didn’t work out.” She fidgets in her seat and pushes her plate away from her.
“What why? You were going on like three months the last time I talked to you at Thanksgiving.” He says in concern.
“Yea and it was the last month.” She mumbles.
“Gwen-” Ben starts.
“I just- why is it so hard to not cheat?” Her voice strains. She’s looking right at Ben, eyes bright and alive with irritation.
“We weren’t even that serious. What was the point?! I would have rather him break up with me at three months then find out he’s been cheating on me with Hope!” she crosses her arms in irritation.
“What?!” Ben all but screeches.
Kevin looks up quickly and notices it’s just the three of them at the dinning table. He’s thankful for that.
Gwen just sighs. “I just wasted three months on some punk who’s too much of a baby to tell me he wasn’t into me. It feels like high school not a corporate job.” She mutters.
It’s quiet and Kevin can’t take the silence and chimes in.
“Fuck him.” He says and shrugs his shoulders. “If he can’t be open about how he feels at twenty something then fuck him. Not worth your time or tears.” Kevin tells her with conviction.
He holds eye contact with her and sees her smile softly at him.
“Yea. Fuck him.”
-
That night Kevin struggles to sleep. Ben snores. Loudly.
Kevin tries to quieten the noise with a pillow but it’s not helping him. He groans and sits up from the trundle.
He puts on his coat over his sweats and long sleeve shirt. He grabs his beanie and a pack of cigarettes from his bag and heads out to the front porch.
It’s still snowing and Kevin chews on his bottom lip. He hates how cold it is. Hates the snow and hates how incredibly silent he knows it’s about to be outside.
He opens the front door and immediately lights his cigarette and inhales like it’s a lifeline. He lets the familiar burn settle in his chest quickly before blowing out the smoke.
“Didn’t take you for a smoker.”
He turns so fast he almost falls off the steps.
“Sorry!” Gwen squeaks out, “I didn’t realize you didn’t see me.”
Kevin holds one hand over his chest feeling the panic melt away and his breathing even out.
“Do you just like sitting outside in the freezing cold at,” He checks his phone, “1 AM?”
She huffs out a laugh, “Not particularly. I couldn’t sleep.”
He takes another drag, “You can’t hear Ben, can you? He’s what drove me out.”
She gives a hearty laugh. “No but I wouldn’t be surprised if I did.”
Kevin takes one more drag before putting out his cigarette under his boot. He moves to sit next to her on the porch swing.
“His voice does carry doesn’t it?” He laughs and smirks her way.
“Oh god you should have heard him when we were kids!” She snorts through her laugh, Kevin finds it charming. “We went on a summer long road trip with grandpa and we had to share a bunk.”
He smiles at her, “So, you just didn't sleep huh?”
She shoves him in jest. Before pointing at the cigarette butt on the ground.
“Didn’t pin you for a smoker.” She states.
Kevin shrugs. “I only do it in the winter. Only thing that warms me.”
Gwen quirks her brow at that. “Hmm. Not a fan of the cold huh?” she questions.
He shakes his head. “Hate it actually.”
She nods. “I like it enough. It’s the snow I really love. It’s like a fresh blanket that washes over a town and makes it new again.” The neighbor’s lights across the street are twinkling in her eyes, the brightest colors he can see reflecting back at him.
“You make it sound so nice. It’s only like that when it’s freshly fallen though. It get’s caked up with mud, animals, and kids tracking through it.” He says scrunching his face in mild disgust.
She snorts, “That’s why you have to see it when no ones around. When it’s still settling and no ones awake or around. In the silence.” She almost whispers.
Kevin looks out into the yard and tries to see what she sees. It is nice, he thinks, if he was into the art of nature or the whatever. He wishes he had Gwen’s perspective. One that hasn’t been beat up by broken families or run-away loneliness.
“Sure.” Is all he says. He wants to say more though.
Gwen readjusts in her seat, and pulls the blanket she’s using loose and puts it over her and Kevin.
Kevin silently just stares at her in question.
She shrugs noncommittally and burrows herself into the blanket.
They sit and stare at the snow falling for a while. It’s the only silence Kevin’s liked in a long time.
#gwevin#gwen tennyson#kevin levin#ben tennyson#ben 10#ben 10 fanfiction#fanfiction#ben 10 alien force#ben 10 ultimate alien#ben 10 omniverse#this is an AU#AKA the one where ben brings kevin home for christmas and makes it everyones problem
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Silent Hill: If you could go anywhere without worrying about money, where would you go? Where are some places that reality feels distorted for you? The Haunting: Have you ever been convinced that your house is haunted or that a ghost or other villain was after you?
Silent Hill: So, I'm pretty lucky to say this - money has not been my concern when traveling. I will, in fact, go dead broke to go on vacation (but I finally have a Real Job with Benefits Like Money now), so my travel restrictions are usually reserved to global conflicts and whether or not they'll run a background check and find out I was in the military and then try me as a foreign spy and either kill me, or arrest me at customs. THAT being said - Newfoundland. Which is hilarious, given how much I hate hiking, but I also hate the heat and I like the idea of vacationing somewhere that has icebergs floating by in July.
Distorted? Hmm. That one is a little weirder to answer, because I don't know if they mean travel ('seems fake!') or like, places I've been that have some sort of weird feeling to them. Rolling with the second option, I'm going with Gettysburg Battlefield, and the entire town of Glastonbury, England. Gettysburg has that feeling that I think a lot of places have that were sites of extreme violence or tragedy (I refuse to go anywhere near the USS Arizona Memorial because people - inlcuding my very non-supernatural believing mother - can still hear people banging on the hull from the inside). Gettysburg is hard to describe, because now it's just a big open field, large groups of school kids, tour groups, families with babies, are all walking around, having picnics, taking pictures, running through the grass - and then there are parts where everything suddenly goes silent and you feel freezing cold and you can swear someone just whispered your name but you're alone. Glastonbury is the exact opposite and doesn't feel creepy at all, but it's by far the weirdest fucking place I have ever been (starting from our B&B where we were offered time in the crystal room and told the bedroom we had was great for dream connections to past lives and continuing to the woman who sat with us at dinner telling us about walking up the Tor we needed to be aware of our surroundings were we could slip through time and it just got weirder from there until we left).
The Haunting: By ghosts? No. By some fucking gremlin klepto thing? Yes. We have weird shit go missing all the time. And I mean like a bath sheet, which is a towel the size of beach towel but twice as thick. Mom took it down to the laundry from her bathroom, put it in the wash, and somehow, it got zapped into a parallel dimension between there and the dryer, because we haven't seen it since. Other things, like a whole ass breadbox have disappeared, and mom finally drew the line when both our pizza spatulas went missing and she shouted in the middle of the house: "THAT'S IT. EITHER THOSE ARE BACK TOMORROW, OR I'M BURNING THE HOUSE DOWN AND STARTING OVER FROM SCRATCH." And voila! Back in the drawer as if nothing happened.
#however my friend's house is what I would called haunted as fuck#it was built on a place called Cinder's Corners#where supposedly a house made of cinder blocks burned one night in a fire no one could extinguish#and supposedly killed 10+ people#Mostly I think her mom was the one who was haunted but that might've been the schizophrenia talking#but that house always felt like it was Cursed#Without AC it was cold in the middle of summer#and you would see things out of the corner of your eye all the time#and when we went to our first sleepover they told us not to answer anyone who called your name after dark if you couldn't see them#asks answered#I guess fun games?#:-D
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#i just got polls! yay!#disclaimer: i am american#idk if that will end up being relevant but you don’t know what you don’t know
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30 days of otherkin, but in one day! hooray!!
1. what type of dirt would your kintype eat?
the yummy kind :^) rich and soft, or sand
2. warm or cold ocean water
warm! despite only being semi-aquatic (and by that, i mean i just like to swim despite not being built for it), my size would still require me to remain in shallow waters, aka, warmer!
3. describe a pie made from three ingredients your kintype would eat, crust included, go!
UH fish. and fish. and fish. :)
4. if your kintype suddenly opened their eyes, what would they be looking at?
this is a vague question lmao. the thought that brings me the most comfort is my den: a cave you can only get to if you swim, as it’s burrowed out of a sort of cliff-like structure in the ocean. my partner is with me, maybe sleeping in our nest or looking through our hoard. the soft glow of bioluminescent crystals and mushrooms and magic lanterns we stole from humans that enter our forest without the proper respects. it’s my home, and i could remain there forever if i wanted.
5. do you like sticks?
love them! willow is my favorite tree, so anything from them is very valuable to me. but i also love long, windy vines and driftwood! (the driftwood is perfect for chewing on, too)
6. do you like leaves?
absolutely! despite being a water elemental, plants are one of my favorite things ever. one of my favorite gifts to receive are leaves! especially from willow, maple, and mimosa!
7. does your kintype migrate?
no, my species hibernates. we tend to be solitary, so spending the colder seasons curled up in our dens with our partners, family, and maybe a few close friends is perfect for us :)
8. sleepy or awakey?
sleepy all the time. it’s that predator instinct babey! sleep after meals, when it’s cold, any time i can to get my energy up for hunting.
9. are you smaller or larger than a breadbox?
MUCH larger. from nose to tail, i measure about 25 feet long.
10. describe the vegetation around your kintype's feet.
clover, moss, flowers, and lots of willow, pine, and oak trees.
11. what's the most specific or unusual shift (if you experience them) you've experienced?
hmmm. none that i can really think of, off the top of my head at least. though i do tend to get phantom tail and it changes the way i walk, as well as a lot of pain in my legs sometimes if i don’t walk on my toes (courtesy of the disability lol)
12. what website is your kintype most like?
what does this mean!
13. hey, how's it going
i’m achey and tired, but what’s new lmao
14. if given a cellphone, what would your kintype do with it
if we’re talking about a situation where i know how to use one,,, probably just look up ideas for things to put in my hoard
15. how do you make your room/home/surroundings more suited to your kintype?
shells, crystals, pretty paintings, glow in the dark stars, and real and fake plants mostly!
16. tell me about your favorite kind of fabric...like, just in general, unrelated to your kintype(s)
hmmmmm. i don’t really know. satin or anything scratchy i think? very much excluding corduroy, velvet, sherpa, and furry or fuzzy things. hate em
17. are you bitey?
absolutely. both love bites (like when your cat gently bites your hand while you pet them), and when i’m angry. snap snap
18. how does your kintype feel about chia seeds?
they look so disgusting to me djajfjwjf like i love plants but eughhh
19. can your kintype knit? if not, could your kintype knit if given instructions?
mmmmm. if i can get big enough knitting needles and yarn, yes. but i prefer crochet!
20. describe your kintype’s skin texture in great detail.
not skin, but fur! (hence why i’m not really built for swimming) it’s very smooth and fluffy, like a samoyed dog. it’s not too thick, but enough to keep me warm in my naturally cold environment.
21. glossy or matte?
depends? i guess????
22. wildcard, i’m getting tired of writing these
fallen kingdom is better than viva la vida
23. you hear a scratching noise around the corner, what does your kintype do?
investigate! be prepared to either defend myself if it’s a threat, or welcome it if it’s a friend. all creatures are welcome in my woods (if they’re nice)
24. what’s your kintype’s most acute sense?
smell and sight. you need both to be quite good if you’re going to spend a large portion of your time in the water.
25. alone in a forest with no provisions, how long does your kintype survive?
my territory is a forest.
26. describe your kintype as a canned vegetable.
what
27. it's getting dark out, does your kintype sleep, wake up, or PANIC
sleeb :)
28. how many fingers do you have and why?
five! most mammals have five fingers.
29. what's a really nice smell?
petrichor. the smell of wet rocks and dirt and leaves. so great
30. has 30 days of this unhinged you further?
i did this in like 30 minutes. so no
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It never fails.
The same pinhead, ignorant pieces of shit that ask, "Well why don't you just move out? :^)" when I complain about my abusive living situation, are usually the same stupid jackasses that whine and complain about how their lives are near to collapsing due to poverty. And they have a 9-5 and a place to live that isn't a breadbox surrounded by desperate crackheads living off the state that tend to snatch up anything that isn't nailed down or syphon gasoline out of their neighbors cars.
Hey, fuckheads: You had a hell of an easier start than I did. I have parents that did everything they could to either destroy my future and turn me into a piece of digestive bacteria for their own shitty lives, or ensure if I tried to leave I'd enter a tailspin and wind up face first in the gutter. Unlike you, whom had the freedom or at least the peace to make at least one fuckup and get help for it, or the peace to go to school and rack up your mad assed debts. I had none. I was saddled with a family that took fetishistic pleasure in diving head first into problems and laughing as they made me try to pull us out, knowing that it was put up with their bullshit or do everything myself, with not even a HOPE of an advantage from family to help me.
It was a hope that turned toxic when it became clear these disgusting wretches just wanted me around as an accessory and someone to boss around, for fun and profit.
Unlike you, whom had help. Even if your experiences weren't ideal, they were a fuckload more helpful than mine, that are nothing but a detriment that keep me alive purely just to threaten me with police if I don't do exactly what they want on any given day.
You had the LUXURY to make mistakes and "find yourself" or some other worthless bullshit before whatever you do for your subsistence job now. I never did. From the fucking getgo my single mom wanted me to buy HER a car when I was a teenager, strap myself to the cost of it, still be told it wasn't mine so I could only drive it where, why and how she wanted, and effectively just make myself her chauffeur while having none of the freedom or enjoyment out of the experience whatsoever. Couldn't even use it to go on dates or visit anyone, just be told to go pay the gas pick her up more fat bitch foods in a task that does nothing but add miles to the car, and deal with it or go live in the fucking planned obsolescent rust bucket piece of shit with no family, no savings, no future.
Some of you worthless fucks were BOUGHT CARS when you were teenagers. I was told I'd have to buy my mother a car and then be told when and where to drive it.
People struggling to exist after they had a head start, lecturing me on how I should just "go live in a homeless shelter" to improve my life. Yeah, thanks, you worthless sack of shit. I want to spend the next 15 years trying to somehow advance my life making minimum wage at 40 god damned years old. Meanwhile you're whining about how expensive gas and food is and you're making substantially more than I would be or will be in a decade. Fuck you.
Complain about being abused by your mother and your shitty situation, and you more or less get told, "it's your own fault." Because god knows among capital P Progressives, it's only men that can be abusive and the abuse is through size and violence. But your mother threatening to call police and accuse domestic violence in the absolute absence of anything but her complete and total uncontested control over your life? That's normal and fine and hey maybe you should consider just go living in a garbage can from square-zero. :^) If you want to complain about abuse, it has to be because your family (preferably, male family member) is either being violent or sexual. It's unacceptable to complain if your mother is deliberately sabotaging your financial life or independence, because that means women can be guilty of shit and it form a pattern that points to women abusing the system. And as the biggest supporters of, "social justice," are women, that's verboten. You're not allowed to pin responsibility for this kind of abuse on women. The path of least resistance is to just tell men to go live in a fucking hole in the ground and also if they could also keep throwing money at their women (not just female) family members that'd be great ackshully.
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today at the grocery store in the gift wrapping section Loaf spotted a Star Wars gift bag with Darth Vader on it. More importantly, its tag was a Death Star.
Loaf, pointing: Moon!!! Moon!!!!!
me, who has trained for this:
#raising a Loaf#the bready bunch#life in the bakery#tales from the breadbox#(if y'all like a particular one of those to be More general kid/family tag pls weigh in)
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Special Guest - Vikki Walton - Author of Fungi Foul Play: A Small Town Colorado Cozy Mystery (Backyard Farming Series) #AuthorInterview / #Giveaway
Fungi Foul Play: A Small Town Colorado Cozy Mystery
(Backyard Farming Series)
by Vikki Walton
I am delighted to welcome Vikki Walton to Escape With Dollycas today!
Hi Vikki,
Tell us a little bit about yourself.
I wrote my first book to encourage my daughter in a writing assignment for class. I live in beautiful Colorado but have lots of family and friends along with a piece of my heart in Texas. I write cozies, and historical fiction under a pen name. I also write some nonfiction.
What are three things most people don’t know about you?
- I am not a fan of dead grapes (raisins) but they’re okay if they’re made into wine.
- I’m an INTJ. (0.8% of the population)
- I lived in France when I was a young child (dad in service).
What books/authors have most inspired you?
The Queen of Mystery: Agatha Christie. Even though she’s now often categorized as cozy, her books were/are traditional mystery. The day that my first book ended up next to hers on the bestseller list felt surreal.
What kind of research do you do, and how long do you spend researching before beginning a book?
It depends. I don’t have to do a lot of research for my cozies, but I spent a lot of time doing research for my historical fiction.
Do you ever suffer from Writer’s Block?
No. I have tons of ideas. It’s more that I’m a breadbox writer and I have to allow my subconscious to work on scenes or plots before it comes into my conscious mind. Sometimes that can be frustrating, but it’s my way of writing.
What advice do you have for someone who would like to become a published writer?
As an author coach, I work with beginning indie authors. I would give the following advice:
1. Read a lot; especially in the genre you want to write in.
2. Write a short story. First, this helps you to understand the genre and tropes needed. Second, writing something shorter helps you understand story arc. Finally, it provides you with a finished product that motivates you and can be used as a reader magnet.
3. Join a writer’s group either in-person or online. This can help you from making terrible mistakes like working with a vanity publisher.
4. Read (again). Learn as much as you can on craft, marketing, and self-publishing. There are a myriad of successful authors who can help you in your journey.
5. Create a plan. In order to achieve the goal of finishing a book and having it published, you need to set objectives, add in timelines, and targets. Even tracking your word count will help you move forward.
When you are not writing what do you like to do?
I like to hike, travel, and spend time with animals (I’m also a global housesitter/petsitter).
If you could travel anywhere in the world where would you go and why?
I am planning on hiking the Camino in Spain next year, so probably over to Europe. There’s so much history and architecture that I love.
What is next on the horizon for you?
I have a lot of writing projects in the works (self-publishing nonfiction book, a historical women’s fiction, another cozy mystery in one of my series, and a few new projects on the back burner with one being later-in-life romances. I like change and trying new things.
Thank you, Vikki, for dropping by today!
Keep reading for information about Vikki's new book, Fungi Foul Play.
Read the full article
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Run n gun basketball arcade game for sale
#RUN N GUN BASKETBALL ARCADE GAME FOR SALE FULL#
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From the size of a breadbox to the size of 4 cubicles. If you’re anything like me, you might even think it’s fun to have your own custom tokens to use in your personal game room. If you are buying a game for a commercial location, most games can have a coin mechanism, dollar bill acceptor, or card scanner installed. If you are using your game in a home environment, all new games come with the ability to turn on “free play”.
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How much are you willing to spend on a game?Īrcade games can vary in cost from $1,500 for small table top models to over $29,000 for larger games that fully immerse the player.
When do you want to get it? Some games are made to order, so they could take a month or more to arrive.
Where will it go? Man cave? Game Room or family room? Garage?.
What type of games do you want? Sports? Hunting? Stand up or sit down?.
Who will be playing it? Just adults? Teens? Kids?.
While making your decision, consider the following questions: Sure, the driving games and gun games, among others, could be considered video games, but as the classic gamers will tell you, video games are best defined as having a joystick and a few buttons.ĭetermining what type of game to get can be the hardest choice. The most classic of all arcade machine types, video games include such infamous games as Pac-Man and Galaga, but also includes multi-cade cabinets with hundreds of games. Many games in the other categories can also be categorized as redemption games. From the classic Skee Ball, offering tickets, to more modern prize games like Namco’s Dunk Tank Prize redemption game, where you can win high dollar items. If you’re a golfer, you need to check these out!
#RUN N GUN BASKETBALL ARCADE GAME FOR SALE FULL#
We’ve all heard of GoldenTee, the popular staple in many bars and game rooms, but did you know it can also come with SilverStrike bowling? But GoldenTee isn’t the only golf game available, there’s a mini-golf game called Putt!, as well as high-end golf simulators from Full Swing. Whether it’s driving a race car, jet ski, or even a pod racer, these games let players race in unlimited settings.Ī favorite of many visiting their local arcade, gun games have realistic looking guns and can involve anything from hunting deer to killing zombies. Popularized in the 90’s with Dance Dance Revolution, these games are a hit with people of all ages offering a fun way to compete, exercise, and test your skills. From small rubber duckies, to large stuffed animals, there’s a crane for every preference. We all remember winning a stuffed animal from one of these machines as a kid, and we all know they’re still just as fun to play as adults. These games can be linked together where multiple games can be going at the same time, so you can test your skills head to head. Today, achieving your childhood dream of owning your own arcade game has never been easier! Take a look at this handy buying guide to learn more about the process of finding and buying your next favorite game.īasketball games allow players to test their skills and throw real basketballs in a net. They take us back to a time where worries were less and magic was real. Arcade games have this ability to conjure up so many memories from the best parts of our childhoods. At Game Room Guys we’ve heard all of the stories from the woman who used to play Galaga while trying to keep balanced on her roller skates, to the guy who won his first kiss after showing off his Pac-Man skills.
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