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waywardbeanie · 4 years

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A Man of Letters - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough? Word Count: 6931 ish

Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings) a little meta Chapter Warning: humor (Is that really a warning?) and a little bit of sweet.(Always), angst, spicy (smut), unprotected (ish) sex

A/N: I want to thank everyone who has read so far, thank you for sticking with me! All of the comments and reblogs mean so very much! THANK YOU!

Thank you to my beta’s @winchest09 and @whatareyousearchingfordean without them I would be sunk!

MASTERLIST A Man of Letters

If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE: **Make sure you check out the playlist, it is updated every chapter and an essential part of the story**

Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters

Catch up here >>>>>>> A Man of Letters Masterlist

This series is ongoing!

No Gif’s are mine

Dean “Tongue Magician” Winchester PO Box 323 Sioux Falls, SD 57101

Dear D,

You were right, I got both letters the same day. It was a really nice surprise. I hope that “Sam” likes the brownies. I’m sure they are stale, but I made enough for everyone, so please share them because I know they are for you. Sam literally eats one brownie when I make them. Work has picked up, and my schedule is full most days. I’m happy to be busy when you are gone, it makes the days go by faster, but my bed is too big and empty without you. I’ve slept on the couch a few times since you’ve been gone, I just leave the pillows on, and I can almost convince myself you are here.

I was thinking about the couch night, but now you have me thinking about the bed night, and damn, you are too far away to dwell on that for too long! Also, do not talk to me about me moaning your name in letters because I swear to God I will write you a note that you will have you locking yourself in Baby to read!

Things are pretty quiet here as usual. I went to the farmers market today and bought vegetables. I’m trying to figure out some new recipes to try. I know you said that you were up for anything, just no more butter beans because they taste like mud (which, for the record, they do not!), so we will see what I can do. I saw Mark from the garage there, and he told me to tell you “Hello” and that he is almost finished with the body of the 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda. He wondered when you would be back because he could use your help with the new paint job. I told him that the job you had was going to last longer than most but that I’m sure as soon as you got into town that you would help him.

D, I know we talked about the future before, but are you sure you want to walk away? I’m here no matter what, I’m not going anywhere. You need to be sure this is what you want to do for you. With that being said, I am selfish enough to say I want nothing more than to fall asleep in your arms every night and to wake up next to you each morning. I’m glad you wrote it in a letter because I can read it over and over. Sometimes, when you are gone, I just start questioning things and can be a bit insecure about all of it, but you knew that already.

I guess I should wrap this up, I’m sorry you guys are doing more research, but, as always it will pay off in the end. I’m not surprised you set up training for everyone, that is definitely your thing, and it gives you an excuse not to read those dusty books. You guys be safe and come back soon. I miss your face.

I Love You, Your Initial

3 Years Ago

They were a little over halfway back to the bunker, driving through Hastings, Nebraska, and Sam started to worry. Dean had not spoken 5 words this entire trip. He didn’t even want snacks when they stopped for gas. They have been driving for almost two hours, the radio on low, the only thing consistent is the tapping of his thumb on the top of the steering wheel, lost in his own thoughts.

“Dean.” He broke the silence

“Huh?” pulling himself from his thoughts, glancing at Sam.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What? Nothing,” raising his eyebrows, he shook his head briefly.

Flicking his eyes to the backseat, Sam confirmed the vamp was still out cold. “Ok, I’ll start. I know that you knew where these vamps were hiding out long before I told you. Instead of helping me, you continued to point me in the wrong direction.”

He rubbed his hand down his face with equal amounts of irritation and embarrassment. “Sammy, it’s not like that I-,”

Annoyed Sam cut him off, “Dude, it is exactly like that, but the funny part is I’m not even mad anymore.”

“Fine, you know I don’t want to talk about this, but you get one question and one answer and don’t get all chick flick about it either because that’s not happening.”

“Great,” Sam smirked, “What’s Y/N’s favorite color?”

Without missing a beat, Dean answered, “It’s a tie between navy blue and dark grey.”

Sam threw his head back with a laugh. Dean’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile, turning up the radio as “Ramblin’ Man” by The Allman Brothers blared through the speakers. Laying his foot on the gas pedal, a little heavier to get back to the bunker to get answers from the comatose vamp tied up in the back seat.

Dean and Sam had left Y/N’s house 2 days ago. The first 24 hours she didn’t go anywhere without her phone, that got old quickly. She began to feel like it was a leash; finally, she went about her day and left it plugged in on her nightstand. Today was Saturday, she didn’t have any clients this morning; instead, it was all the things to catch up from the week. Mowing the lawn, cleaning the house, grocery shopping, stripping the sheets, and doing laundry.

She put her hair in a messy bun, threw on her Neil Diamond t-shirt with denim shorts, grabbed her BlueTooth headphones, linking them to her tablet, and set it outside on the deck and connected it to her playlist. Greta Van Fleet’s “Highway Tune” burst into her ears as she yanked the pulley to start the lawnmower. She chuckled to herself as she began to mow the backyard. Dean had mentioned a few times that he wanted to do it, but that was not going to happen. She had put them both out enough, and besides, it was a good exercise for her. Finishing up in a little over an hour, she put away the lawn equipment, grabbed a bottle of water from the “beer fridge” in the garage, and jumped in the Jeep. She wanted to head to two destinations, the grocery store and the gardening store to buy more plants and flowers. Working in the yard kept her hands and mind busy, and right now, that is precisely what she needed.

As she was perusing the freezer section for her favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor, she ran into her friend Jennifer. They had met just a few weeks after Y/N moved to Lincoln and they had become fast friends. After a brief hug, they agreed to meet later on that evening for drinks on Y/N’s back deck to catch up. She stopped and bought some more daisies and headed back home, looking forward to spending the evening with her friend.

After planting the flowers, she ran in the house to quickly shower and wash her hair, scrubbing off the dirt and grime of the day. Finishing up, she wrapped her hair in a towel and dried off when she noticed Dean’s black flannel hanging on the door hook. He’d accidentally left it behind the last time he was here. Walking over, she brushed her fingers lightly over the material and as she brought it closer to her nose, she could still smell his woodsy maleness clinging to the fabric. She rested her head against the door, thinking about how much she missed him already and realizing how ridiculous it sounded.

With a sigh, she left the bathroom walking down the hall to her bedroom, pausing she looked at her phone lying face down on the nightstand. She was torn; part of her wanted to see if Dean had called or texted, but an overwhelming part did not want to be disappointed when he didn’t. She made a deal with herself, she would get dressed and dry her hair, and THEN she would look at it. Y/N did silly bargaining things like this with herself all the time, almost like bargaining with the Gods to turn the odds in her favor. She pulled on a pair of grey shorts and a and white Garth Brooks shirt, chuckling to herself, thinking of when Dean accused her of having more band shirts than he did.

Sitting in front of her mirror with her flat paddle brush, she began drying her hair in pieces, after finishing she put on a bit of mascara, eyeliner, and colored lip balm. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she was pleased with the results, standing with a huff, Y/N went to check her phone. Picking it up, she expected nothing. However, she slowly lowered herself to the bed as her screen lit up, her eyes growing wider with every missed notification.

Dean 3 Missed calls

Dean: Hey, Babe, been crazy with you know what. Just wanted to hear your voice.

Dean 4 Missed calls

Sam 1 Missed call

Dean: Y/N. Is everything ok? Call me when you get this.

Dean 2 Missed calls Sam: Tink, would you PLEASE call Dean? I might kill him soon if you don’t. Jennifer 1 Missed Call Dean: ok, I’m trying to keep my shit together right now, I’m FUCKING WORRIED. I’m just telling you right now if I don’t hear back from you in 2 hours I’m driving back.

Just then, her phone lit up in her hand, Dean’s face popping up, the ring scaring her so bad she dropped the phone. She scrambled to pick it up, pushing the speaker button quickly. “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice boomed through the speaker.

“Hey Dean, I’m so sorry-” she began.

Dean cut her off, “Are you good? Jesus Fuck, I was like a crazy person down here. You’re good, right? I mean you are answering the phone, so you’re alright. Right?” She could hear a slamming car door in the background.

“Dean!” she raised her voice to get his attention, “I’m fine I just left my phone plugged in all day, and I was busy.”

“Shit, right.” She could hear him running his hand over his scruff, “I’m sorry Babe, I know, I sound like a lunatic. We just haven’t been able to get anything out of this vamp, when you didn’t answer, my mind just started going to a dark place.”

“I promise, I’m really fine,” she soothed, “I mowed the lawn and went to the grocery and bought some flowers; just busy. I even saw my friend Jennifer today. She’s coming over tonight, and we are going to sit on the deck and have a couple beers.”

“Honestly, that sounds great Y/N/N, I just wanted to hear your voice and tell you to be careful. We don’t know who sent those vamps yet, and until we do, you just need to watch your back.”

She didn’t want to roll her eyes, but she couldn’t help it. There were only so many ways she could reassure him, she didn’t want Dean to worry about her, Y/N just living her life, maybe she was naïve. Hell, no one has worried about her since her parents’ death. It was a strange feeling.

“Dean,” she began, “What can I do to make you feel better?”

She could almost hear the sheepish shrug in his voice “I don’t know” pulling himself out of that quickly, his voice became stronger. “Could you just carry your damn phone with you?”

Dean heard the laughter through his phone, and he couldn’t help but smile, hearing her laugh warmed his insides. “Of course, I will! I do have a question for you, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Were you really going to drive back up here if I didn’t answer?” The silence on the phone went on for so long that she had to double-check to be sure they weren’t disconnected. “Dean?”

“Yeah,” came a gruff reply, “I was in the garage when I thought I would call you one more time before I left.”

“Oh Dean, I’m sorry.” Guilt niggled at her as she thought of him dropping his plans.

“Y/N, maybe I overreacted a little, but I’m so far away that, if shit went down, It would take me 2 ½ hours to get there.”

“I’m just living, Dean, but I will be careful, I swear. I don’t want you to worry about me. You have enough to worry about without adding me to it.”

Oh, Babe,” he chuckled, “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“So, I thought I would come back up on Thursday night if that’s ok.”

“More than,” she replied with a soft smile, “I miss you.”

“Same,” he replied gruffly, “see you Thursday, then.”

“Bye, Dean,” she whispered. She pushed the end button and flopped back on the bed, heart pounding in her chest.

She missed him, but the idea of him coming back had her stomach in knots. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to have sex with him when he came back. She could barely keep herself in check before he left. It had been a long time since she had been intimate with anyone, what if she forgot how? She had been fine just shoving her sexual frustrations to the bottom of her priority list, life got its hooks in her, she was more interested in getting her business off the ground, fixing up her house and making a life for herself. He was the first person in recent memory who made her look twice. Now he was coming to stay with her. This time she knew that the couch was not going to cut it.

Dean’s POV

Bracing his forearms on the driver’s side window frame of Baby, he tossed the phone on her roof with a sigh. It’s taking all of his internal strength not to jump in the car right now and head back to Lincoln. In his mind, he knows that she is safe, but his chest still ached. This is why he didn’t involve himself in this type of bullshit. Sticking to the random hook up fitted his life. What the hell was he thinking, dragging her deeper into a life that she has no business being within a 1000 feet of? She is too sweet to get involved in his shit show of life. He was tossed into it the day his mother was roasted on the ceiling. Y/N deserves so much better than he could ever offer. If he had a brain cell left in his head, he would man up and text her right now to tell her to forget it, he wasn’t returning to Lincoln. He and Sam would track down whoever was after her and take care of it. Y/N could move on with her life and forget all about him and the nightmare life he leads. Exhaling loudly, Dean grabs his phone, shoving it in his pocket and pushing himself off the car, the adrenaline of his fear and anger still pumping through his veins. He knows she deserves better than a text. When he drives up on Thursday, he will tell her that it’s best for her.

Eventually, the stabbing pain in his chest will go away and if it doesn’t, maybe this is just what it would be like now that he really knows what he will be missing when he walks away.

Jennifer and Y/N embrace at the door when she arrives promptly at 7:00. It was an evening of a few too many beers and laughs. Jennifer switched to Diet Coke after two. Although she was a little more than tipsy, she was careful to keep most of the secrets when Jennifer started to question her about the black muscle car parked at her house when Y/N was MIA for a few weeks, no one knew she was hiding a bruised and swollen face.

Travis had kept his mouth shut as promised. Sam and Dean stopped in to talk to him about the “guys” who followed Y/N home and assaulted her. He wanted his bar as far away from that controversy as possible.

They ended the evening with more hugs and promises to get together again soon, Y/N made her way to her bedroom, phone in hand, drunkenly stripping off clothes all the way down the hall. Climbing under the sheets, she started to plug in her phone but changed her mind.

Dean’s phone buzzed with a text message at 1:17 a.m, he was sitting in the library nursing his third whiskey of the night. Picking up his phone, he thumbed it open to see it was a text from Y/N. As he opened the message, his mouth slowly began to gape open. Staring back at him was a selfie. Y/N was laying down, her hair fanning around her on the pillow, a sweet smile playing on her lips. He could see the curve of her breasts, turning the phone back and forth he was sure he could have seen her nipple. She was totally naked in that massive bed without him. The simple text accompanying the picture is what truly did him in.

Babe: Wish you were here

“FUCK!” he groaned loudly, closing his eyes, throwing his head back

Thursday came in a blink of an eye for both of them. Dean had texted Y/N to let him know he would be leaving around noon. It was 10:00 a.m. now, his anxiousness already kicked into high gear. Sam walked into the war room, a mug of coffee in his hand, still in his blue and black plaid pajama pants with a grey long sleeved T-Shirt. His hair pointing in every direction, bare feet smacking against the tile floor. He stopped abruptly when he spotted Dean pacing a path back and forth. He was already dressed in jeans and boots topped with a dark grey T-shirt underneath a burgundy and grey flannel. An empty coffee cup sitting on the map table along with his duffle bag.

“Dean?” he questioned.

“Yeah?” he responded, continuing to pace.

“What’s the deal? What are you doing?” He fully entered the room, placing his mug on the table studying Dean.

“I’m thinking! What are you doing? I just got shit on my mind,” he barked back, continuing to pace, stopping to look at his phone, before beginning his walk again.

“Aren’t you going to Y/N’s today?” Sam questioned, “I thought you would be happy. Instead, you’re stalking around here like an angry bear.”

Dean’s angry gaze snapped to Sam, confirming his characterization. “I’m coming back tonight.” Sam paused in the middle of sitting, standing back up, “Dude, WHAT?”

Running his hand roughly over his face, he sighed. “I got some space; after the other day, when I couldn’t reach her, it made me realize she doesn’t need to be dragged into this life. It’s too much.”

“And there it is” Sam threw his hands in the air, frustration written all over his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean growled.

“Every.Fucking.Time,” he emphasized each word pointing his finger at the older Winchester. "Whenever you find a little bit of happiness, you start sabotaging yourself, it’s always something. This life sucks, you’re too busy, it’s the apocalypse, someone or something needs you more, you just shut down and tell yourself it’s not worth the trouble.”

Dean just stared at his brother as he continued to ramble.

“Just once Dean, just one time can you put yourself first?” he gestured toward him. “Yes, I know Y/N was a case and you are pissed off that the vamp won’t talk, you’re worried that your life is going to splash on her. She is stronger than you think, you think you need to pile all of this on your shoulders, you don’t. I have never seen you, my own brother, let his guard down around someone before.”

“She’s too good Sammy, she doesn’t deserve-”

“What?” Sam questioned, gathering momentum again “She doesn’t deserve to be happy? She doesn’t deserve to have someone care about her? You-” he pointed at him once more, “are both crazy about each other. I could see it on your faces every time I was in the same room with you both. You have earned the right to be happy.”

Dean crossed his arms contemplating Sam.

“Just do me a favor, would you?” Go up there and just see her, stay the three days, like you planned, see what happens. Promise me you won’t go up there halfcocked trying to tell her, like you always do to everyone, that you know what’s best. Leave your bullshit baggage here and just go see her.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled, hiking his bag on his shoulder as he picked his keys off the table, striding towards the garage, “I think you need to mind your own damn business.”

“When has that ever happened before?” Sam called after him.

As Dean began to drive to Lincoln, Y/N was running around nerves and excitement, twisting her gut. She had showered, shaved everywhere, lotioned up, fixed her hair, letting it flow down her back instead of the ponytail or messy bun look and she had applied light makeup. Looking down at her bed, almost every article of clothing she owned was spread out. Y/N picked up all of her dresses and hung them back in the closet. If she wore a dress, he would know that she was trying too hard.

“This is ridiculous!” she thought to herself as she started shoving clothes back into drawers. She settled on a pair of denim cutoff shorts and a sleeveless black and white blouse that cut in at the shoulders and tied at the back of her neck, flowing to mid-hip. Picking up the remainder of clothes strewn about, she muscled them back in her closet, slamming the door. She checked herself out in the mirror, happy with the tan legs and arms on display. Walking out into the living room, she started to feel fidgety. She had serious thoughts about going to work in the garden, but she would have to shower all over again. After wandering around the house, she checked her phone at 1:00. She had two hours left. Flopping on the couch, she flipped on the television and began channel surfing, trying to zone out.

As Dean sped up the highway to Y/N’s house, the conversation with Sam this morning was a consistent loop in his head. Actually, it was more of a Sam tirade. Dean knew what was best, right? Nip it in the bud before one of them could get hurt. She really wasn’t what he needed in his life, he told himself. Unattached works best for him. An after bar closing fling to get rid of the itch, then back to living life. No expectations, no texts, no I’ll-call-you-laters. But if that is what he wanted, then why did it make him sad and angry all at once?

Twenty minutes outside of Lincoln, he stopped for gas, seriously considering calling her to say he couldn’t make it. Sure, she might be disappointed, but she would get over it, wouldn’t she? No, he chastised himself, he would do the right thing and tell her face to face. He owed her that, at the very least. Looking at his watch, he realized that he had made a good time between leaving the bunker early so Sam would quit bitching at him and no traffic or cops on the 2 lane highway. He would be at her house at 1:30. Jumping back in Baby, he cranked the ignition “The Real Love” by Bob Seger blared through the speakers, it was a slow one, he reached down to flip the channel but paused but as the lyrics began to speak to him.

I think I’ve found The Real Love Genuine and true I think it’s really come my way today Babe I think it’s really you

I remember moments looking in your eyes Could have sworn I saw the spark of love babe Flickering inside

I’ve been around this track And the only thing I lack Is The Real Love

Placing his hand back on the wheel, his knuckles turned white as he squeezed, the pressure in his chest overwhelming him as he blinked back tears. His mind and heart screaming, “Don’t do this!!” Angrily, he threw Baby in drive, grinding his teeth together and snapping his jaw. He jammed his foot on the gas, leaving tire treads next to the pumps. The Impala fishtailing as he exited to the street heading towards Y/N house. The pain crashing through him as the verses washed over him.

Every time I see you, every time we touch I can feel the way you feel for me Babe And it means so much

And every time you look at me It’s just the way it all should be In The Real Love

Oh darlin’ darlin’ darlin’ Stay with me stay I long to see you in the morning sun Everyday Everyday

So until that moment When I take your hand I’m gonna try to do my very best Babe To prove that I’m your man

I’m gonna do my very best I’m not gonna rest Until we’ve got The Real Love

He was in agony, convincing himself it was what he deserved thinking about what he was about to do.

Hearing the deep rumble of Baby, Y/N sat up on the couch, flinging the remote on the coffee table. Her heart began thundering in her chest as she looked at the clock 1:28 p.m. “It’s too early, it can’t be him. He said 3:00” she thought. Her feet had a mind of their own, carrying her, almost unwilling, afraid to be disappointed that it was another car, but she knew. She would recognize the sound of his car anywhere. The screen door opened with a squeak as she stepped on the porch as Dean drove up the driveway. She shoved her hands in her front pockets to appear calm, but she could not wipe the huge grin off her face nor the heat burning her cheeks.

Dean turned off Baby and sat there for a moment, squeezing the steering wheel, flexing his jaw as he tried to get his bearings together. He knew what had to be done, he couldn’t draw it out. “Just cut to the chase, short and sweet. Get it over and done with and let her live in peace,” he told himself, until he glanced out the window and saw her on the porch.

The ice that he tried to form around his heart cracked wide as he looked at her beautiful, smiling face. Never in his life could he recall someone so thrilled to see him. She was pure sunshine that spread light through him as he looked at her. Pulling the metal handle, he got out of the car, slamming the heavy door behind him. Her hands were in her pockets, but she was so happy she was almost vibrating. As he walked towards her, all he could hear was Sam’s voice yelling in his head, “leave your bullshit baggage here! You have earned the right to be happy!”

Each step that he took melted the ice a little more, stopping in the grass, he matched her smile and opened his arms. She was off the porch running to him. She jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist as he locked her in his embrace. She buried her face in his neck as he nuzzled her hair, breathing her in.

“You know,” she whispered, smiling into his neck, “when I thought about today, I always imagined I would have been much cooler.”

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss against her temple, “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.” The truth is, had she been calm, cool, and collected, Dean would not have questioned his stupidity until he was headed back to the bunker. By that time, it would have been too late, and he would have had to live with his decision no matter what the ache in his chest told him.

Setting her on her feet, bending, he pressed a firm kiss on her lips, lingering as the last bits of ice melted around his heart. He wanted to tell her what he had driven up here to do; he just couldn’t yet. What if he scared her? What if she stopped looking at him with unconditional acceptance? After everything he had shared with her, the killings, the monsters, and the Mark of Cain, she rolled with it all as if he was telling her how he changed the oil in Baby. She was interested and asked questions but never judged him. Telling her most of his secrets on the couch was never what he meant to do, but she pulled it out without even trying. What if telling her he was going to look at him differently? He couldn’t handle that, his chest hurt to even think that. What if it broke what has been so carefully built. What if it broke her? He couldn’t do that. The thought that he was actually going to come up here and tell her it was over made him feel lightheaded.

Pulling back, she took his hand in hers with a smile. “I hope you’re hungry tonight. I made steak, twice baked potato, corn on the cob and...” she drawled, wiggling her eyebrows, “pecan pie.”

“Wow,” he chuckled “you didn’t have to do all of that.”

She lifted one shoulder, slightly embarrassed, “I wanted to.”

Squeezing her hand, he murmured, “thank you.”

Smiling bright at him, she opened the screen door, Y/N entering and pulling Dean with her. The house smelled like pie. He didn’t realize how much he missed being with her in her space until he walked in the door. The smell, the feeling of hominess solidified his decision to listen to Sam’s advice. Maybe his little brother knew something, after all.

Dean grabbed two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator, walking out on the back deck. Just being close to her, he could feel a weight lifting off him as he comfortably settled back into their little routine. He would always twist off the bottle top for her and hand her the beer. Even if she brought the beers out, she gave them both to him. When both bottles were open, they would clink the bottlenecks together before their first drink. It was the little things like this that made him ridiculously happy.

Sitting on the deck, they shared different things from the week, there were no awkward moments or pause in the conversation. It just flowed as it did on the couch. Dean tried to keep it light, telling funny stories about Sam as Y/N’s laughter rang out, filling him with a warmth he never knew he needed., She would reach out and touch him, brushing her fingers against his knee or grasping his arm when she was making a point. He looked forward to each touch, desire shuttering through him every time. As the afternoon slid into the evening, Dean would graze her upper arm with a smile, just to see her shiver. He felt powerful that it was his touch doing that to her.

Time flew by as the cold beers went down smoothly. Soon it was time to light the grill and cook up the steaks as she put together the side dishes. They decided to eat at the pub table on the deck, lighting the lanterns as the sun began to set and soft music played through the hidden speakers. Y/N watched Dean eat dinner as she moved the food around her plate. She watched him as they talked through dinner, either he wasn’t nervous or could chew through anything. She was hungry but only took a few bites here and there. The later it got, she began to get keyed up. She felt like she knew how the evening would end; however, her insecurities made her start to question everything. After dinner, they loaded the dishwasher and made coffee for both of them. It was very domestic, like all the pieces were snapping into place. Dean sat down his mug as the crisp sound of an acoustic guitar wafted through the sound system. “Give Me One Reason” by Tracy Chapman. The notes carried into the darkness as the deck was illuminated by the hanging lanterns.

Reaching out his hand he beckoned to Y/N, “dance with me.”

With a shy smile, she accepted his hand as he led her to the middle of the deck and took her in his arms. Her heart began to double-time in her chest as she looked into Dean’s eyes and saw the heat reflected back down on her. He pulled her close as they moved through the song and she could not help but to be struck by the lyrics.

Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Said I don't want leave you lonely You got to make me change my mind

Ducking his head to brush his lips to hers, the sizzle that has built between them all night, ignites. He wants this woman more than he has ever wanted anyone in his life. In a rush of uncontrollable desire, Dean cups Y/N’s face and pulls her to him, crashing his lips greedily to hers. The first touch of his mouth on hers and she threw her arms around him, pressing her body against his. The intense desire exploded between them; the compelling need to claim her, lick her, have her, drove him to the brink of insanity. He opened her lips with his, his tongue sliding into her mouth, bringing out a throaty moan that almost pushed him over the edge. He glided his hand down her back, cupping one of her round cheeks with his palm as he roughly pulled her against his erection; she gasped with pleasure as she began to grind herself onto him, her own arousal dictating her actions.

Picking her up, she wrapped her legs around him as he walked them into the house, down the hall into the bedroom, their mouths only moving apart to gasp for air before devouring each other once more. The dance of their tongues did nothing to quench her thirst for him since they had initially started, and she found herself rubbing against him in an attempt to ease her aching core. Setting her down on her feet in front of the bed, she looked up to see Dean’s eyes had changed to a dark smoldering green; the lust reflected back to her, making her tremble with yearning.

“I need you so much,” he rasped.

“God, me too,” she whimpered.

A smile spread across his face as he hooked his index finger along the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down her tan legs to her ankles. On his knees in front of her, he placed a soft kiss on her belly button, his tongue flicking her hoop piercing.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs as her skin erupts in goosebumps, a shiver of excitement moving up her spine as she runs her hands through his soft brown hair.

Gently pushing her back on the bed, he pulled her to the edge, his mouth mere inches from her slick heat. Moving his face slightly, he brushed the inside of her thigh with his scruff, pulling a moan from her lips. She could feel his warm breath against her clit and began to squirm.

“Please Dean,” she begged. He lay his muscled forearm across her hips, pinning her to the bed.

“Shh,” he whispered as his eyes met hers, his intense look scorching her skin. “I want to look at you, I’ve done nothing but think about you like this for weeks, just want to enjoy the view for a moment.”

She let her head fall back on the mattress, laying her arm across her closed eyes, her body buzzing as it pleaded for relief. Every second that ticked by, the intensity coiled in her belly, convincing her that she will burst into flames any second. She jerked as she felt his flattened tongue lick upwards along her damp slit, teasing her. His lips stopped at her clit, humming in satisfaction.

“Jesus, Dean,” she moaned, grasping the sheets on either side of her, “I can’t do this, it’s too much,” she cried with frustration.

Chucking, he licked her again before swirling his tongue around her sweet spot. A sound ripped from her throat that was a mix between a whine and a curse. “That’s it, Y/N,” he growls against herm “let go, I want to feel you cum.”

“No, I want to feel you inside me.” Her arms stretched to reach him, but he leaned back, just out of reach.

“You will,” he promises “but I need this first.” His tongue delved into her wet sweetness as he buried two fingers inside her, coaxing her to climax. She felt the white-hot heat building inside her as he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking one last time, hurdling her over the edge while crying out his name. Dean was relentless, lapping up everything Y/N had given him before he glanced up at her writhing form, his chin glistening in the dim light. It was a sight that made Y/N swallow hard, the man between her legs had given her an orgasm in less than a few minutes so her mind was reeling with else he had in store for her.

“I need you, Dean.” Those four words that bled from her lips sent Dean into a frenzy.

In haste, he removed his boots, socks, jeans, and boxers before he climbed up the mattress, pulling Y/N along with him. Situated in the middle of the bed, he settled between her legs, his hard length nudging at her. Resting his forearms on either side of her head, he brushed his lips over hers as she moved her hands to entwine her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. Her legs then wrapped around his waist, urging him to enter her but he held back, his body taut with the effort.

“Protection?” he asks softly. “IUD,” she answered breathlessly, desperate for him to fill her. “Oh god.””

“It’s Dean” he husked playfully, his voice deep and gruff.

Kissing down her neck; cupping her breast in his hand, he rolled her taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger, a hiss of pleasure rushing from her lips as he took her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the bud before nipping it gently with his teeth. He moved to the other breast giving it equal treatment. Steadily he slowly made his way back up her body, peppering her skin with kisses as he reached her mouth, claiming her lips again in a searing kiss as he lined himself up. He slowly pushes his impressive shaft inside of her as her body stretches around his girth, tightly squeezing and slowly accommodating him.

“Y/N,” he breathes between clenched teeth, “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you feel so damn good.”

She murmured her approval as her hands wrapped around him, her fingers digging into his rippling back muscles with each thrust. She had fantasized about this so often, but the reality eclipses anything her imagination had come up with. His mouth moved down her exposed neck as her hands blindly explored his body. Their dual moans mingled in the bedroom as their sweat-slicked bodies met. She gripped his shoulders as they both barreled towards release.

“Babe, I’m so close,” he grits out, his rhythm stuttering. She plants her feet on the bed, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Dean!” she cries as another orgasm rips through her body. She comes undone, her insides clench and twist around him as she digs her fingers into his back as he feels her flutter around him. Groaning her name, he buries himself deep inside her, allowing euphoria to wash over him as he coated the inside of her walls.

Breathless, he nearly collapsed on top of her but managed to hold himself up on shaky arms as she ran her fingers through his sweaty hair with a smile. He leaned down to place a sweet kiss on her mouth before laying on his back next to her as they both tried to catch their breath. Turning his head, he saw her blissed-out face staring back at him with a sleepy smile playing on her lips. He gathered her still shaking body to him, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head on his hard chest with a satisfied sigh. She snuggled into him as he reached down to pull the sheet over them both falling into an exhausted sleep. He was so glad he didn’t listen to his own thoughts and allowed himself to enjoy being with her. The woman that had turned his life upside down.

Chapter 8

Tags: @winchest09 @katehuntington @whatareyousearchingfordean @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @superfanficnatural @deanwanddamons @janicho88 @talesmaniac89 @anathewierdo @compresshischest09 @supernatural-bellawinchester @jensengirl83 @this-is-what-im-reduced-to @ellewritesfix05 @moron225 @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @unicornqu33n17 @swinchester27@ @deans-baby-momma @squirrelnotsam @clumsy-nerd104 @sarahbaker2010 @supernatural-love14 @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @angelhearts1012 @nothinbuttrouble2 @cookiechipdough @lady-pswrld @peachyafshawn @notan-applepielife

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #reader insert #Dean Winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #slow burn #dean winchester series #a man of letters #waywardbeanie

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carrickbender · 4 years

Text

Hi! Its been a while... how's it going? How are you holding up?? Me???

-I got furloughed from my job on May 3rd. Fought for almost 6 weeks for unemployment, and now it looks like September before we head back to work. That is, if everybody wears a mask, social distances, washes their hands...yeah, like thats gonna happen here. We are surrounded by anti-science conspiracy nuts who believe that this is all just made up. So September...

-So I bought a lawnmower, and managed to get it, groceries, and a bunch of other stuff in the back of my bug. Its not a small lawnmower, so no matter how much shit a certain person gives me about driving a VW, its got a little room.

-we've been canning. Not because of some "end of the world" visions, but because homemade stuff is delicious. Plus, having a mom and a better half who are canning queens doesn't hurt. And, we got a guy... hes a fruit monger who sells mostly to breweries and specialty restaurants. But somehow, we got in on a produce clatch thats great- you bring cash, you get good stuff from the back of a truck. Apricots, cherries, beans, pickled asparagus... more to come. Plus, we did strawberry jam that was lovely. One of the redeeming factors of 2020.

- speaking of which, Henry is just ridiculous. We get a lot of time together in the mornings, him trying to score my coffee, playing airplanes, just hanging out... Im going to miss this time so much when I go back to work.

- the sticker made me think of @voxtacular . Im trying to find a blue trump sticker so I can stick the two together. But I refuse to pay for it. Because why should I? He can fuck off, twice on sundays!!!!

- The more that this year goes on, the harder I try to listen because I know I have a huge level of privilege simply by being a cis white male. And the more I listen, the more angry I become at the things we have done as a nation to P.O.C., women, and the LGBTQ+ communities. We, as in those who have this position of privilege, must continue to listen and learn how to be better allies and advocates. No matter how quiet the mainstream media has become about these issues, the tip of the iceberg has only become apparent. No matter how the news has changed back to this plague, notice who is dying and who is disproportionately effected, and ask yourself can we do better? The answer is yes.

Anyhow, enough of me. Please take care of yourselves- I know I say it often, but y'all are are amazing world changers, and your words are often a soothing balm to quiet lurkers like yours truly.

#me #this is my life #singer/songwriter #dad life #pnwgarden #pnwcore #washington state #wash your hands #wear a fucking mask #i swear #people are monsters #overcoming depression

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queen-of-deans-booty · 4 years

Text

Doing It With A Smile

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1,648

Warnings: just major fluff

Summary: Your new neighbor is finding new ways to annoy you, and the last straw breaks before you go marching over to his place to sort it out.

Beta: she wants to remain anonymous

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in!

This is the December 14th fic for my 25 days of RPF Christmas with the prompt: “Look, I get that you go all out with Christmas decorations, but I can see your flashing lights through the blinds on my bedroom window and they’ve kept me awake the past few days…”

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

This is the perfect afternoon for reading your favorite book. The clock has a nice ticking consistency, your house is pet and kid-free (not like you had them to begin with), you’re in front of the window to give you a perfect view of the snow lightly falling, and nothing could ruin this moment. Plus, you have a perfect view of your neighbor’s house across from yours.

Jensen Ackles moved in a few months ago, but you’ve never had the opportunity to go to him and introduce yourself to him. When he moved in, you were traveling for work in Europe. When you got back, he was filming in Vancouver for his television show. You’ve heard of the show, but you’ve never watched it before. You like more medical dramas and documentaries, not whatever he’s on. Only recently has he moved back in for the holidays, but you haven’t had time to go over yet. Yes, you could go over now, but you really want this time to be allocated for peace and quiet.

You just finished the fifteenth chapter when you heard loud, obnoxious music come from Jensen’s house. It sounds like a band is rehearsing, but you know he isn’t in one. You’ve never seen a van used for carrying instruments, no other bandmates, and the only person you’ve seen walk into his house is his mother. Well, she looked like his mother.

The only way you can read a book is by complete silence or with rain/thunder sounds. This is breaking your concentration. You look over at his house is disdain, but it’s not enough to make you go over to him and tell him off. First, the music he’s playing isn’t that bad, and he’s singing along to it as if he’s got a microphone or a karaoke machine. Either way, he has a beautiful voice.

You close your book and rest your head to the glass window. If he sounds this good from across the street, you wonder how he’ll sound from inside the living room. If he can sing this well, what’s he doing on a tv show? Maybe when his show is done for good, he’ll make a career out of singing. You’d definitely buy all his albums.

Jensen hasn’t done anything to annoy you for the rest of the week. Today’s Sunday, which means coffee and newsletters in the morning. If it wasn’t so cold outside, you would sit in your porch swing and read the morning newspaper. Instead, you’re by the fireplace with the unopened newspaper with a rubber band wrapped around the middle.

Taking your first sip of coffee, you take off the rubber band and open it to the coupon section. That’s the first place you love to look to see what the deals of the week are, and then mentally plan your shopping list based on the deals. Flipping through the pages until you get to the right one, you gasp at the sections that have been cut out. Someone stole your newspaper and cut out some of the coupons. To add to it, they left a note of the ones they took, ending with their initials.

Jensen did this. You know it based on the scrambled JA written at the bottom of it. You know it’s him because the day you came back, he left some flowers on your price with a thank you note for welcoming him to the neighborhood. Both notes have the exact same writing. Oh, that little menace…

You could match right over to his place and demand the coupons be given back, but they are the ones that you have no business buying. He took some clothes offers, some coupons for meat, dairy products, and other things you don’t eat. You’re a vegetarian that doesn’t like animal products. He must not know that about you since he took those coupons.

You didn’t mind that he did that, but you would love it if he came over and asked like a normal person. Maybe tomorrow, you’ll steal his coupons and leave him a note to see how he likes it. You just shake your head and begin cutting out the ones you really wanted, and soon, Jensen was out of your head.

Last night killed your ass. Your work demanded you stay in the office until two am to get works done that could have waited until morning. You’re in the running for a big promotion, so you stocked it up to get you on their good side. It was tough, but you made it home and fell asleep easily.

Jensen hasn’t stolen any more coupons when he realized his little “prank” didn’t work. He might just be looking for a rise from you, but you’re not going to give it to him. It’s going to take a lot more than missing coupons and loud music for you to get mad.

You have to be at work at eight, so you have your alarm set for six-thirty. It gives you enough time to eat breakfast, watch some news, get dressed, and head out with just enough time to set aside for the morning traffic. Your room is dark, and the silence is giving you everything you need for a peaceful slumber.

You’re in a deep sleep when you hear the rumble of a lawnmower. It’s coming from across the street, and it pulls you right out of your dream. Your eyes open tiredly, and you look at the clock to see it reads 5:00 am. Who the hell us up at five am to mow their lawn? You get out of bed and creep over to your window and power outside. The sun is still down since it’s wintertime, but you can clearly see Jensen morning his lawn as if it’s normal to do so.

The lawnmower he bought is noisy, tacky, and it keeps dying every few seconds. It’s as if he’s never used it before until this morning. Why is he always bothering you? Sure, the music and the coupons were harmless, but it’s still annoying to be disturbed. If he does anything to annoy you, even with the smallest thing, then you’re going to go over to his house and sort it out like he should have done in the beginning. You would go over now, but you’re too tired to put on something and deal with his mess. Instead, you pull the curtains shut and head downstairs for some coffee.

The next few days have been quiet over at Jensen’s place, but you know he’s brewing something. He got out his Christmas lights and put them up. They are flashy, bright, and you love to look at them after the sun has gone down. You don’t like it when they are flashing in your room when you’re trying to sleep. It’s been happening the mar free days, and you’re getting really sick of it. You love looking at lights, but this is Jensen. Why he’s acting this way, you’ll never know.

It’s the middle of the night, and you just got into bed and settled down for the night. It’s Friday, which means there is no work tomorrow, but you still have a lot of personal errands to run that you’d rather knock out in the morning. You pull the covers up to your chin and close your eyes. Seconds later, blue, red, green, and yellow lights flash into your room.

You let out an annoyed scream and get out of bed. Jensen has turned on his lights, and they are flashy as ever. This is it, you have had enough of his antics. You’re putting an end to this now whether it’s midnight or the am. You grab your fluffy purple robe and throw it on before storming out of your house. Crossing the street responsibly, you pound on his door when you reach it.

“Jensen!” you shout. It takes five seconds for him to get to the door and open it. It’s like he was waiting there for you.

“Can I help you?” he asks nonchalantly.

“Yes! First, you play loud music. I didn’t mind because you actually have a nice voice. Second, you take my coupons. They aren’t ones I want, but still. If you want them, ask! Third, you mow your fucking lawn at five am when you know I came home at two. Now, it’s these lights. Look, I get that you go all out with Christmas decorations, but I can see your flashing lights through the blinds on my bedroom window, and they’ve kept me awake the past few days. Please, turn them off.”

“Okay,” he shrugs.

“What? That’s it?”

“Yeah, it took you long enough to match your cute butt over here and tell me off. I did all those things to get you over here.”

“Why?”

“So I can ask you to dinner tomorrow night?”

“Why didn’t you come up to me like a normal person?” you sigh.

“I felt a bit intimidated. My character is a lot better at things like this than I am. I’m sorry for annoying you I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

“Well, I'm not going to bite. Next time, come over to me during the day.”

“Deal. Will you still have dinner with me?”

“You’re such a dork. Sure, but I’m a vegetarian. No animal products.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grins.

“Turn off these lights, and we’ll have a dinner date.”

“Done,” he says and pulls out a remote from his pocket. He turns off the lights with a smile.

“Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he chuckles.

Your leave guys house and return to yours. Slipping off your robe, you put it on the hanger and slide back into bed. It’s easy to fall asleep this time, but you’re doing it with a smile. You got a date with Jensen Ackles.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

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trilliontreesinitiative · 4 years

Text

THE TRILLION TREES INITIATIVE

It was really all my fault. Stars in my eyes, I haphazardly met strangers from the internet in more-or-less public places and pled my case, just to be brushed off over and over again. Months of pounding the keyboard, and trying to find people to help me, I gave up and decided if it needed doing, I could at least give it a game try.

I posted my plea to every corner of the internet, every newsgroup I could find, every fledgling website. This was back before there were pictures on the internet. I was a true believer then and was sure that if I found the right people, somehow we'd find a way to plant a trillion trees on our planet.

Spare change went to seedlings that I nurtured through frigid winters and increasingly hot summers. I surreptitiously planted them - a spade in one pocket and a sapling or ten in another, all wrapped in a damp rag ready for a moment no one seemed to be watching--I could add a sapling to a border of trees along the waters' edge, or in a little clearing of national forest.

Time passed, kids came, and overwhelmed by the responsibilities I'd willingly accepted without any real sense of the gravity of my commitment to the humans I'd made, I let my zealous mission drift off like my trapeze artist dreams from thirty years earlier. My kids were smarter than me, and kept me busy ferrying them back and forth with their extracurricular activities. I felt like an unpaid lab assistant for their science fair projects, but I knew that sacrifice was part of parenthood and I tucked my passions behind a mask of nurturing officiousness.

I truly forgot about the pleas I'd broadcast so carelessly. The internet was a wild place in the late twentieth century, and twenty years after my last screams into the abyss came the most unexpected answer, delivered simultaneously to my old and new email account and sent as a text.

WE CAN HELP WITH THE TREES.

It looked like it came from my own email address, my own cell number, and it was only addressed to me.

I almost swiped away the messages, but ... but what was I rejecting? My old mission? I still knew we needed trees to help counter our own environmental carelessness. What if my shouts into the void reached someone who could actually help?

I wrote and discarded responses, one after another. Finally, I replied with "I'm open to suggestions," and watched as my own words buzzed my telephone and felt foolish and a little more cynical as nothing happened. What was I expecting? Hackers to show up with bushels of acorns?

__________________________________

It wasn't hackers, it was a strangely bland man who rang my doorbell the next morning right after I'd hugged my kids and seen the bus shuttle them to school. Since I was still wearing pants, I answered the door.

"Sorry, we're renters" has been my greeting to anyone at my door for the last decade. It’s not actually true, even -- we bought our rented house before the kids were born, but it usually cuts off any sales pitch and lets any visitor trundle off to a more likely mark. I wasn't even really thinking about the weird message of the night before--my chore list was mighty and overwhelming and if I wanted to live in a clean house, I needed to make it happen--but the bland man took a breath before I closed the door in his face.

"THE TREES"

I don't know how it sounded like thousands of voices, all at once, at a conversationally comfortable volume, but I got a sense of foreignness, of something far beyond my understanding, happening right at my front door.

My chores didn't seem to be much of a priority anymore. I felt no danger from the stranger, just overwhelming urgency to do as he wished. My desire to invite the stranger to sit at my dining room table and listen was my only priority. I led the way to the table and offered some coffee to my guest.

"NO, THANK YOU" the myriad voices replied, sitting across the table from my spot. He just looked like a guy in his late twenties or early thirties. He could be my pizza delivery dude, or the guy who managed the movie theater, or a shoe salesman. Sandy brown hair was cut and combed neatly. He seemed to be in reasonable shape, with rested placid eyes and a neutral expression on his slightly ruddy face. He seemed both comfortably solid and like he was vibrating almost too fast for me to tell.

"HERE'S OUR OFFER" echoed (maybe only in my head? Maybe I'm actually going crazy. This is the weirdest interaction I've ever had with a sapient creature. I'm pretty sure that guy was not a pizza deliverer or salesman, he was something, maybe many things, different.)

The paper felt high-quality -- thick and smooth, but the letters were iridescent, black at first glance, but racing oil-slick colors at any angle. My eyes couldn't focus on it at first. Did this guy drug me? Why did I let him in my house? He was probably a serial killer. Or a mass murderer? All those voices all at once? This was insane.

"PLEASE READ IT"

I obediently looked down at the words.

"WE, THE UNDERSIGNED, WISH TO SAVE YOUR PLANET WITH YOU"

I looked up at the bland man and tried to explain my insignificance "I like where you're going with this, but I'm just one person. I'm not in charge of anything really, including my own children. I can't even keep my houseplants alive." I pointed at browning foliage in my house, a spider plant that was purportedly unkillable until my indefatigable inability to keep track of my own commitments caught up and dried out.

"WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND WHO YOU CAN BE. KEEP READING."

The words seemed to swim and reform as I looked down again.

"WE WILL BUY VAST TRACTS OF LAND AROUND YOUR PLANET. WE WILL PLANT YOUR TRILLION TREES. YOU JUST MUST AGREE."

I felt completely inadequate. I was in no way qualified to agree to this. I'm a suburban mom, not a diplomat or foreign dignitary. I recycle and try to avoid single-use plastics, but I'm not even sure that I'm doing that right. What if I was agreeing to an alien invasion? My authority is limited to two small humans who were at least half jerk, and that's not counting their father's influence.

More words scrambled across the page. "WE WISH NO HARM TO YOU. WE JUST WISH TO MAKE YOUR PLANET MORE HABITABLE, BOTH FOR US AND YOU."

Ah, there's the catch. Who the hell are they? Do I want to cohabitate with another species? What if they're like kudzu -- invasive and impossible to remove?

The page seemed to shimmer as the letters reformed: "WE WILL ONLY GROW TREES THAT CAN THRIVE WITHOUT DAMAGING OTHER SPECIES."

"But why me?"

"YOU ARE THE DREAMER"

"Even if I didn't want you to do this, there's no way I could stop you, so...sure! Go for it."

A pen rolled across my table and stopped, pointing at a big black X at the bottom of the page.

"SIGN AT THE X"

I looked over the page again. No legalese had suddenly appeared. The words were the same, The pen felt heavy and I knew I was doing something irrevocable but I couldn't seem to stop. I used my best handwriting and signed my name, which of course you all know by now.

The bland man inclined his head and took the paper at once, tucking it into an inside pocket of his tan corduroy jacket.

“THAT SHOULD DO IT,” his voice buzzed more as he stood, and moved to the door.

I felt bemused and a little like I’d signed something expensive away without fully understanding the value as I locked the door behind the stranger. Maybe I was seeing things. Maybe none of it happened.

__________________________________

The first sign that I hadn’t suffered a psychotic break -- to be honest, I was a little surprised it wasn’t, I’d always felt precariously balanced on the edge of sanity and figured this was the final separation of my tenuous grasp on reality -- the first sign was a few days later, when I finished matching another dozen socks, rolling them together, and throwing them in my older child’s underwear drawer. Her room was a pigsty, but we’d come to an agreement that her worktable was her problem and that no food was consumed in her room, so it was relatively hygienic. I looked out the window and saw that the empty lot next to my house no longer had a sign advertising a local Realtor and something was happening.

I slid my feet into flip-flops and walked to my mailbox and saw the bland man riding a giant lawnmower, cutting the native brush to nearly barren dirt. I flipped through three credit card offers I planned to dump straight into the recycling and leafed through the grocery circular and noted that pork chops were a few dollars cheaper per pound, so McRibs would be coming back soon.

The silliest things played through my head as I watched him clear the land, as a flock of quail (I have Opinions About Quail, mostly that they’re only saved from extinction by reproducing so much, because they seem to have a death wish near motorized vehicles) ran on foot just ahead of the mower.

I waved at the man, since we were acquainted. Sort of. I didn’t know his name, and I’d never even thought to ask. Why didn’t I ask? I’d signed a contract that I didn’t truly understand and I didn’t even know his name. I patiently waited for him to mow back toward my property line, the forgotten junk mail between my arm and chest.

He shimmered a little as he hopped off the mower and moved towards me.

“WE MUST PREPARE THE LAND.”

I nodded, like I knew his plan all along and was magnanimously supervising him. I offered him a bottle of water, or the use of my toilet, if he needed it.

“WE HAVE WHAT WE NEED.”

Why was he speaking in the plural? It hadn’t seemed odd until just then. My sense of incongruity and that something was Just Not Right began to ramp up. I waved at them and walked back to my bungalow. I popped online to see what was happening in the world and saw the bigger picture, easily seen by less self-absorbed human beings.

Every single vacant lot in the world was being mowed flat by a bland looking man, who was identical in feature to every other bland-looking man mowing a vacant lot. Too weird. Reporters tried to talk to the men, but they placidly mowed each lot, one after another. Where did all of the mowers come from? There were no brand markers on the machines. As soon as the lots were cleared, furrows were plowed. The bland men moved implacably, good neighbors every one, and stopped the racket of agricultural busywork well before dinnertime. They started the next day after sunrise.

The story got bigger as the days passed. It was on the front page of newspapers, and everyone seemed to have a hot take on what was really going on. Aliens? Nah, they looked too normal. Clones? How could millions of clones make it to adulthood without someone catching on? As far as I could tell, I was the only one who’d successfully spoken to any of these….people, if that’s what they were. I thought I might be able to tell someone about my weird experience, but I was also positive that no one would believe me. I told my husband the strange tale and he laughed at my creativity and rubbed my back as I drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, I drove the kids to school and went to the public library. I used it frequently for escapist fiction, mostly about young women in the early 19th century trying to snag a spouse. I went straight to the reference desk.

“Do you know what’s going on with these guys mowing and plowing everywhere?”

The librarian grimaced, “You’re number six to ask today. We have no idea.”

I returned a stack of Regencies into the slot next to the desk, and walked back to my car without grabbing any new trashy fiction. I drove home pensively, worried that I had fucked up something big.

Safe in my garage, I felt my anxiety rise, and I tried to breathe slowly and smoothly and reason my way through this mystery. I agreed to let someone plant the trees that I knew we needed. We clearly weren’t taking care of our planet and someone else was stepping in for us. Did it really matter that I didn’t understand their reasoning or motivations? I’d been begging the world for so long, and someone finally listened. Panic attack averted, I stepped into my kitchen and rinsed the breakfast dishes before loading the dishwasher.

__________________________________

I looked out of my kitchen window and saw a wall of trees in the formerly vacant lot. Not seedlings, fully grown and mature trees. I flipped on the news, and it was the same everywhere. The trees were in. The space station reported that there were just new trees everywhere, they hadn’t been uprooted from forests, they just suddenly existed. Every tree fit perfectly in its microclimate, and fruit and nut trees were included in each single-lot forest, freely available for hungry mouths.

I ran outside and looked for the man. He was standing with his hands on his lower back, looking up. Fruit trees were in full bloom. Conifers looked like they’d been growing there since time began. I stood next to the man. I didn’t even know what words I could use to express my gratitude, my discomfort, my fear.

“WE ARE DONE, MS. APPLESEED” he buzzed, and suddenly became a cloud of bees. The cloud, the machinery, the man all dispersed. The signed paper fell to the newly turned earth. The trees stayed where they were.

A lot of people had been watching the planters. A lot of people saw the planters become clouds of bees. A lot of people grabbed one of the billion copies of my signed contract, and everyone saw my name, clear as day. “Terra Appleseed, Mother of Trees”, the headlines called me.

My number was unlisted, but my phone didn’t stop ringing for weeks. I didn’t have any of the answers that the reporters wanted. I was just a dreamer, I told them. I don’t know why the bees listened to me.

The scientists had the most to say, of course. Carbon dioxide was down, oxygen was up. Glaciers stopped melting, and while I was trying to sound like a functional adult, refusing any interview requests, my older daughter figured out how to make cold fusion work.

She’d built a variation of a Farnsworth Fusor that fused two atoms of hydrogen into one of helium at room temperature, and suddenly eliminated the need for fossil fuel combustion. With a ready-built platform, we freely gave away her discovery to anyone who’d listen. At first, people thought I’d somehow organized the tree thing to sell my daughter’s invention, but I knew we’d get by fine without charging a dime. The truth was more mysterious and unexplainable, but we, as a species, weren’t going to get ourselves in such a fix again -- we didn’t need to. We just needed the bees to start us off, and my daughter to finish our addiction to combustion.

People started planting their own trees, too, but nothing made them grow forty feet in a day. The bees kept that secret. I was much too boring to stay in the spotlight for long, and I returned to my diet of trashy novels and quiet longing for that feeling of secret importance that had filled the days of planting, the wonder at this enormous leap towards peace and understanding that seemed to fall into my lap.

It was enough. My obituary decades later would focus on the mystery of the trees, the dream I tried to spread, and the unexpected way it came true.

The trillion trees initiative worked. We reached for the stars, comfortable that our home planet was safe. We found life everywhere we looked. As far as I know, no one ever spoke to the bees again.

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disasterbisexual-moved · 6 years

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writing prompts i came up with when i was 15

so today I was bored enough to go looking through old shit on my phone and long story short, I found a treasure trove of creativity from my youth. please enjoy a look into my brain from three years ago through these ‘imagine your otp’ prompts which weretotally not at all revised to save my ass from secondhand embarrassment

“I found you on the floor in the morning of the locked restroom of the restaurant I work at eating Doritos and fending off a spider with febreeze how long have you even been here” off to a strong start

“your stupid grass Pokemon beat the shit out of my water type Pokemon and I bet you didn’t think I was serious but I tracked you down at the cosplay con and found you glued to the ceiling. also how do you look exactly like the character from the game Jesus Christ” I’m kinkshaming younger me for having a crush on ash ketchum

“I accidentally used hot sauce instead of toothpaste bc my sibling pranked me and I kind of ruined your family barbecue by bulldozing your backyard in search of water” who the fuck would go to their neighbor’s house before oh, I don’t know, trying the kitchen in their own home??

“we live in the same apartment building and when I went downstairs your shipment of stupid playboy magazines covered the entire floor and now I’m going to make you pay oh shit you’re hot shit and you look like you’ve been up since three in the morning and aren’t happy shit shit shit shit shit” where.... was i going with this

“I was minding my own business and jogging around the block when you started chasing me with a lawNMOWER and now I’m running for my life and you’re stuck on it and crying as we disrupt traffic” ah, truly a classic.

“you walked in on me lip synching to Paramore and wearing pigtails when you were passing out fliers for your friends’ special event because my idiot roommate left the FUCKING DOOR OPEN” could you tell I was going through a p!atd phase

“we showed up to comic con wearing the exact same outfit and started ripping off pieces of each other’s to find the difference and I finally got the shirt oh shit you’re a girl” ??????

“we both got arrested (me for unknowingly taking my cousin’s bag with weed in it and speeding) and you won’t tell me what you did, but the cop didn’t have more than one set of handcuffs and now I’m stuck with you and I look like a raccoon oh god. (bonus: you’re wearing a sparkly leotard and tights)” ‘nuff said.

“my tongue got stuck to the side of your house/apartment as I was heading to work and you kept trying out urban legendary methods to unstick me, please have mercy” I don’t think that’s how this works.

“I bought the last pastry we both like from Starbucks and you, a stranger, walked up to me and started eating it right as I put it in my mouth, kinky little shit that you are” hi yeah um what?

“we were childhood friends and I didn’t know you were coming over this early so you found me shut away in my room wearing Captain America undies aggressively mock-twerking to dubstep” best one yet tbfh

and finally, one of my personal favorites:

“you’re the only guy in our ballet class and I can’t stop laughing but then you pick me up and throw me in the air, long story short I’m in the hospital and it’s yOUR FAULT”

this has been a wild ride from start to finish

#writing prompts #imagine your otp #my writing #writers on tumblr

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labgrownsteaks · 3 years

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Chapter 7

“Ha what were you guys on!?” Guy blurted out as he stuffed his mouth with some fries. We were at The Drumstick, a local diner that was open 24/7. Erin and I loved going there and getting fries and chocolate shakes. Guy was a bit skeptical. I knew this was the response we would get, yet it was still kind of annoying even our best friend didn’t believe us.

“So this beaver. Why was just standing there” he continued with a chuckle.

Erin was laughing too, which didn’t really help our case either. He didn’t even know about the sheet of acid on my table back at the garage.

“We totally saw a monster!” She was giggling, and had been trying to consume a fry for the better part of five minutes now. But she couldn’t stop talking, or giggling so it just stayed in her fingers like a cigarette.

“So Vitamin, what you think this thing was? I’m sure you have a rational explanation for it?!” Guy said smiling.

Erin piped up. “He totally did! He thought it was mass hysteria, something to do with aliens!”

I interjected “I entertained that as a possibility.”

“Man you are the most logical psychonaut I’ve ever met. Your brain is like proof that psychedelics don’t rot your brain. They made you even more logical. It’s crazy! Tell me this. Have you ever got high and just watched the Gummi Bears or something?”

Erin couldn’t resist “Vitamin actually has the worst taste in movies of anyone I’ve ever known!” It was true. I had the worst taste in film on the planet, which actually meant I thought I had some of the best taste.

I had to defend myself “It’s because all the films now are all made by committee. It’s like Aquaman. Who the hell made that?! Who wrote it? Nobody. A committee and some AI spit out a script, and they cast it with beautiful people and made its returns. That’s not how films were in the 80s!”

“I can tell you’re pretty passionate about something at least” Guy said.

“what’s that movie you watch all the time?” Erin asked me.

“Ninja III The Domination” I said with a sigh.

“What the fuck is that shit?!” Guy said with a burp.

I wasted no time. “It’s about a girl, who’s a lineworker, and also an aerobics instructor, she’s working the lines one day”

“Working the lines. what’s that?” Guy asked

“Working the telephone lines!” I responded somewhat annoyed

“Oh I thought maybe that was aerobics thing. Working the lines” Guy said

“Bruh, ok. So she’s a lineworker, and she’s sees this ninja while she’s working the lines. He’s got a sword, and he gives her the sword before he vanishes. He was killing cops”

“Sounds riveting” guy said with a fake english accent.

I got back on track. “She gets the sword, and takes it to her place. But the sword possesses her and makes her start killing cops, but she’s also dating a cop. I hate his character and I recut the film without him. Anyway.”

“I think I got the basics. Sounds dope...” Guy said somewhat sarcastically. He sloshed a fry around in his chocolate shake before gobbling it up and then stating.

“So, let me get this right. You watch goofy as movies with construction workers who get posessed by dead ninja cop killers and..”

“She’s a lineworker” I said.

“Ok, yeah. so you watch these goofy ass films. You take enough psychedelics to make the pope weep. Yet, when you’re completely sober, with your friend, you see a fucking walking beaver wolf demon. And you try to approach it in a logical manner?”

The question actually kind of threw me. I knew how to process weird things, and feelings, and dreams that became reality. And impossible synchronicities. I once thought my head had turned into a gear and part of a giant orange machine in the wall. But when I was sober, and saw this. I simply couldn’t process it.

“I don’t know man. I did see something, and it was weird. I’ll give you that”

“It was weird” Erin said “That should be your quote ““It was weird”” I can imagine it under your picture in the paper in a story about this. Let me get it down to the Chisuwick Tribune I’m sure they’ll get right on the story!”

We all laughed together, and I knew it was all in good fun. We slurped up the rest of our shakes and ate even the little bits of fries.

“Hey Guy, wanna trip with us this weekend? I got some acid.”

“Damn, where’d you get that?” Guy responded.

“Oh, just a girl..” I said, feeling kind of bad I was lying, but I couldn’t let the whole world know I had a drug printing machine.

“A girl?” Guy said Where’d you meet this girl?”

“In the library.” I continued

“How do you meet a girl in the library?!” Guy inquired.

“She just came up to me.” I said. Erin was looking at me smiling with pure delight.

“Why?!” Guy stated

“I had paint on my jeans and she wanted to know how to use the dewey decimal system. She had a big floppy hat on, looked like somebody who go to Burning Bush”

“lawl, what’s that got to do with paint on your jeans” Guy asked in disbelief.

“She...uh..She saw I was a painter, and she liked art, so she wanted to know where the art books were but couldn’t figure out the dewey decimal system”

“And then she gave you acid” Guy said

“Yes” I said with a smile.

“Ok, that definitely never happened. It’s cool, I’m square I get it, I don’t need to know your sources” Guy continued on. “By the way, I got the check” Guy always got the check. One day we were gonna pay him back, when we finally got rich. We walked out of Denny’s and jumped into his 89 Chevette, which was packed full of old Computer textbooks from the 60s, 70s, and 80s. Erin and I sat in back together because the front was piled full of crap he had bought at 2nd hand shops. In additional to collecting old computer textbooks, he also collected antiquated technology. Laserdiscs,8 tracks, reel to reel tape machines, you name it. He probably had one. His dream was to open a vintage computer museum and educate people about the benefits of dot matrix printers and CRT monitors. We paged through one of his books and looked at all the funny pictures of Leave it to Beaver moms sitting next to computers. So odd that in the beginning computers were seen as a woman thing. Something for secretaries to use. Now look where its got us. Staring at screens instead of the world in front of us. Which is just begging to be looked at. Ever since the VR headsets came out in conjunction with Lawnmower Man it was all downhill. People were all in their headsets now with their virtual trainers paying 50 bucks for a 30 minute lesson when they could just run around the river, or hop on a bike. These women sitting next to these computers had no idea of the monsters they were unleashing. They thought the computers were just going to listen to their fingers, and type what they wanted them to type. They had no idea, that the computers would tell us what to do.

#lgs

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theretirementstory · 3 years

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So a new month is starting and what a month it is going to be! We have a national lockdown here in France and with effect from 5 November the UK is going into national lockdown too. I imagine that will mean a quick rescheduling of Bonfire parties because “Guy Fawkes” cannot be forgotten. In my mind Bonfire Night has lost all significance to Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot its all about who can spend the most money on the noisiest fireworks to impress friends and neighbours……..oh oh somebody move that soapbox please! Okay, I have just had a quick rub down with a damp edition of the Radio Times and I am ready to continue. The mincemeat was made and I managed to get four jars full of the lovely stuff, so that is one part of the Xmas baking done. This month I will be making the Xmas cake, the other goodies won’t need to be made until December. Then there are the Xmas cards to write along with the letters. Fortunately, I have a couple of people who insist on sending their cards out in November (I mean early November) so I can get their cards and letters sorted and posted off. I decided to give the kitchen cupboard a really good tidy out, it had got to the stage where I was just putting things in, in any order and I really dislike doing that. So I set too and cleared out the items past their sell by dates, made a note to buy replacements. Then I had a little re-jig of the furniture, easy to do with free-standing stuff. I am happier with the results, which has shown as I have spent a good deal of time in there these last few days. Paperwork had taken over a large part of the week as I was saying goodbye to the VW Golf which had brought me, my huge suitcase, smaller suitcase and goodness knows how many bags of books etc from Shirley’s home in Poitou-Charentes over to start my new life here in 2017. We had been on many adventures together, even going back over to Shirley’s the following year for a holiday. However, I do think that a lot of the problems I have experienced this year could be attributed to getting in and out of a car which was fairly “low”. On Thursday, “we” headed off to Chaumont to say goodbye to one another and for me to take delivery of the new car. In the UK I have bought a number of brand spanking new cars and must admit I have never taken delivery of one of those cars in the way that this “nearly new” car was presented to me. I had been given a time for delivery and on arrival the salesman met me, we walked across the forecourt into the new car showroom, I guessed he was taking me to meet a colleague to complete the transaction. Anyway, in a totally separate “small showroom” was my car, just my car, gleaming and looking for all the world like a brand spanking new vehicle. We concluded the remaining details and then the salesman drove the car onto the forecourt for me to drive home. How special did I feel? To be honest I could not have been made to feel more special if I had won the lottery and been picking up an Aston Martin. Although the VW is 17 years old I was happy to note on the sale document that it was not taken in part exchange to be “crushed” it will be sold on, so hopefully someone else can enjoy some happy motoring in it. My new car, a Peugeot 2008 is easier to get into and out of, and having to “learn to drive” this I decided to return home via the “Foret de Chateauvillain”, what a wonderful journey that was, a completely deserted road, giving me the opportunity to get the feel for the car, then as I came down into Chateauvillain I was then on roads that were familiar so it was such a pleasant, stressfree drive. I didn’t attempt to put the car in the garage after my physio session, but I went out the following morning to put it away. Well, width ways it was easy but length wise, I had to remove the top part of the handle from the lawnmower to add a few more inches of space. I need to check out if I can get get it just a shade further in as when I closed the garage door there was very little space between the back of the car and the garage door. After that I am going to to mark on the wall where the wing mirror needs to line up and then it should be a whole lot easier for me to drive in. The President had informed the nation that the curfew imposed in 30+ departements had not had the effect of stemming the flow of Covid-19 and that the country would return to a national lockdown. We are now required to carry an attestation when going for shopping, medical appointment, exercise (1 hour per day within 1km of your home) or going to work, failure to comply results in a 135 euro fine. As non-essential shops would be closed along with bars, restaurants etc I decided to go and stock up on some wine plus buy the inserts for the cushion covers I have been going to make for the last 4 or 5 years. That will be something different to do during the “confinement”. I messaged Marlene, Josette and Marie-Therese to let them know that I was well and hoping that they were not too anxious about a lockdown again. Marie-Therese said that the treatment is taking it out of her and she is not sure if this weeks course of treatment will take place. I guess that will depend upon the results of her blood test, she is also suffering digestive trouble, which is very difficult as this is one time in your life when you need to eat well to ensure your body can take the treatment. I know that she appreciates the messages I send along with the photos/videos of my gorgeous granddaughter. I rang my Godmother in England, she said she is finding it hard, she has been housebound for years but has always had people coming to see her, this year this has not happened and the only people she sees daily are the “carers”. I try to ring once a week just to give her some different news. “The Daddy” and The Mummy are edging closer to their moving day and plans are changing with regard to their new lives, almost on a daily basis. I am sure that after today and possibly tomorrow they will have decided on whichever path is right for them. I had a video call with my gorgeous granddaughter on Friday, she is so funny now, she will talk for a while then when “The Daddy” and I are having our chat she decides she would like him to help her with her toys or to play, she then appears in front of the phone screen and says to me “Bye bye” and walks away. We did have another chat later that morning when she was sitting waiting for lunch, she was happy to see me then or maybe it was just the thought of food! Now the dreaded dissertation has been done and submitted and “The Graduate” just has to wait for the results of this years’ course. Well not just sit and wait, he is now looking for jobs to apply for, as he said to me after 18 years of school, college and university you feel quite institutionalised and looking for jobs which all seem to say so many years experience of this, that and the other, how do you get to gain that experience. I am sure that there will be something but in these strange times how long will he have to wait for that “something”. Lucy, “The Graduate in Waiting” is busy with her final year of the university course, she has a part-time job but with lockdown that may well be taken away. It will be dog walking in the future I think, with those delightful little dogs. So for me today, I am going to be cooking a lovely piece of pork for my meal, will probably need to make the last of the cauliflower up into soup for tomorrow. I am hoping that I can eat a lot from the freezer so that it can be defrosted ready for Christmas goodies. Bon dimanche Photo's - What height is that tree? Gold and red are the vines which produce the grapes for Champagne Barfontarc

#champagne #trees #barsuraube #livingthedream #nature #lockdown #france #aube

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bloojayoolie · 4 years

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Alive, Children, and Comfortable: trilliontreesinitiative THE TRILLION TREES INITIATIVE It was really all my fault. Stars in my eyes, I haphazardly met strangers from the internet in more-or-less public places and pled my case, just to be brushed off over and over again. Months of pounding the keyboard, and trying to find people to help me, I gave up and decided if it needed doing, I could at least give it a game try. I posted my plea to every corner of the internet, every newsgroup I could find, every fledgling website. This was back before there were pictures on the internet. I was a true believer then and was sure that if I found the right people, somehow we'd find a way to plant a trillion trees on our planet. Spare change went to seedlings that I nurtured through frigid winters and increasingly hot summers. I surreptitiously planted them a spade in one pocket and a sapling or ten in another, all wrapped in a damp rag ready for a moment no one seemed to be watching-- could add a sapling to a border of trees along the waters' edge, or in a little clearing of national forest Time passed, kids came, and overwhelmed by the responsibilities I'd willingly accepted without any real sense of the gravity of my commitment to the humans l'd made, I let my zealous mission drift off like my trapeze artist dreams from thirty years earlier. My kids were smarter than me, and kept me busy ferrying them back and forth with their extracurricular activities. I felt like an unpaid lab assistant for their science fair projects, but I knew that sacrifice was part of parenthood and I tucked my passions behind a mask of nurturing officiousness. I truly forgot about the pleas l'd broadcast so carelessly. The internet was a wild place in the late twentieth century, and twenty years after my last screams into the abyss came the most unexpected answer, delivered simultaneously to my old and new email account and sent as a text WE CAN HELP WITH THE TREES. It looked like it came from my own email address, my own cell number, and it was only addressed to me. I almost swiped away the messages, but.. but what was I rejecting? My old mission? I still knew we needed trees to help counter our own environmental carelessness. What if my shouts into the void reached someone who could actually help? I wrote and discarded responses, one after another. Finally, I replied with "I'm open to suggestions," and watched as my own words buzzed my telephone and felt foolish and a little more cynical as nothing happened. What was I expecting? Hackers to show up with bushels of acorns? It wasn't hackers, it was a strangely bland man who rang my doorbell the next morning right after l'd hugged my kids and seen the bus shuttle them to school. Since was still wearing pants, I answered the door. "Sorry, we're renters" has been my greeting to anyone at my door for the last decade. It's not actually true, even -- we bought our rented house before the kids were born, but it usually cuts off any sales pitch and lets any visitor trundle off to a more likely mark. I wasn't even really thinking about the weird message of the night before--my chore list was mighty and overwhelming and if I wanted to live in a clean house, I needed to make it happen--but the bland man took a breath before I closed the door in his face "THE TREES" I don't know how it sounded like thousands of voices, all at once, at a conversationally comfortable volume, but I got a sense of foreignness, of something far beyond my understanding, happening right at my front door. My chores didn't seem to be much of a priority anymore. I felt no danger from the stranger, just overwhelming urgency to do as he wished. My desire to invite the stranger to sit at my dining room table and listen was my only priority. I led the way to the table and offfered some coffee to my guest "NO, THANK YOU" the myriad voices replied, sitting across the table from my spot. He just looked like a guy in his late twenties or early thirties. He could be my pizza delivery dude, or the guy who managed the movie theater, or a shoe salessman. Sandy brown hair was cut and combed neatly. He seemed to be in reasonable shape, with rested placid eyes and a neutral expression on his slightly ruddy face. He seemed both comfortably solid and like he was vibrating almost too fast for me to tell. "HERE'S OUR OFFER" echoed (maybe only in my head? Maybe I'm actually going crazy. This is the weirdest interaction l've ever had with a sapient creature. I'm pretty sure that guy was not a pizza deliverer or salesman, he was something, maybe many things, different.) The paper felt high-quality thick and smooth, but the letters were iridescent, black at first glance, but racing oil-slick colors at any angle. My eyes couldn't focus on it at first. Did this guy drug me? Why did I let him in my house? He was probably a serial killer. Or a mass murderer? All those voices all at once? This was insane. "PLEASE READ IT" I obediently looked down at the words "WE, THE UNDERSIGNED, WISH TO SAVE YOUR PLANET WITH YOU" I looked up at the bland man and tried to explain my insignificance "I like where you're going with this, but I'm just one person. I'm not in charge of anything really, including my own children. I can't even keep my houseplants alive." I pointed at browning foliage in my house, a spider plant that was purportedly unkillable until my indefatigable inability to keep track of my own commitments caught up and dried out. "WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND WHO YOU CAN BE. KEEP READING" The words seemed to swim and reform as I looked down again. "WE WILL BUY VAST TRACTS OF LAND AROUND YOUR PLANET. WE WILL PLANT YOUR TRILLION TREES. YOU JUST MUST AGREE I felt completely inadequate. I was in no way qualified to agree to this. I'm a suburban mom, not a diplomat or foreign dignitary. I recycle and try to avoid single-use plastics, but I'm not even sure that I'm doing that right. What if I was agreeing to an alien invasion? My authority is limited to two small humans who were at least half jerk, and that's not counting their father's influence More words scrambled across the page. "WE WISH NO HARM TO YOU, WE JUST WISH TO MAKE YOUR PLANET MORE HABITABLE BOTH FOR US AND YOU." Ah, there's the catch. Who the hell are they? Do I want to cohabitate with another species? What if they're like kudzu -- invasive and impossible to remove? The page seemed to shimmer as the letters reformed: "WE WILL ONLY GROW TREES THAT CAN THRIVE WITHOUT DAMAGING OTHER SPECIES. "But why me?" "YOU ARE THE DREAMER" "Even if I didn't want you to do this, there's no way I could stop you, so...sure! Go for it. A pen rolled across my table and stopped, pointing at a big black X at the bottom of the page "SIGN AT THE X I looked over the page again. No legalese had suddenly appeared. The words were the same The pen felt heavy and I knew I was doing something irrevocable but I couldn't seem to stop. I used my best handwriting and signed my name, which of course you all know by now. The bland man inclined his head and took the paper at once, tucking it into an inside pocket of his tan corduroy jacket "THAT SHOULD DO IT" his voice buzzed more as he stood, and moved to the door I felt bemused and a little like l'd signed something expensive away without fully understanding the value as I locked the door behind the stranger. Maybe I was seeing things. Maybe none of it happened The first sign that I hadn't suffered a psychotic break - to be honest, I was a little surprised it wasn't, l'd always felt precariously balanced on the edge of sanity and figured this was the final separation of my tenuous grasp on reality the first sign was a few days later, when I finished matching another dozen socks, rolling them together, and throwing them in my older child's underwear drawer. Her room was a pigsty, but we'd come to an agreement that her worktable was her problem and that no food was consumed in her room, so it was relatively hygienic. I looked out the window and saw that the empty lot next to my house no longer had a sign advertising a local Realtor and something was happening I slid my feet into flip-flops and walked to my mailbox and saw the bland man riding a giant lawnmower, cutting the native brush to nearly barren dirt. I flipped through three credit card offers I planned to dump straight into the recycling and leafed through the grocery circular and noted that pork chops were a few dollars cheaper per pound, so McRibs would be coming back soon The silliest things played through my head as watched him clear the land, as a flock of quail ( have Opinions About Quail, mostly that they're only saved from extinction by reproducing so much, because they seem to have a death wish near motorized vehicles) ran on foot just ahead of the mower waved at the man, since we were acquainted. Sort of, I didn't know his name, and I'd never even thought to ask. Why didn't I ask? l'd signed a contract that I didn't truly understand and didn't even know his name. I patiently waited for him to mow back toward my property line, the forgotten junk mail between my arm and chest. He shimmered a little as he hopped off the mower and moved towards me. "WE MUST PREPARE THE LAND. I nodded, like I knew his plan all along and was magnanimously supervising him, I offered him a bottle of water, or the use of my toilet, if he needed it. "WE HAVE WHAT WE NEED" Why was he speaking in the plural? It hadn't seemed odd until just then. My sense of incongruity and that something was Just Not Right began to ramp up. I waved at them and walked back to my bungalow. I popped online to see what was happening in the world and saw the bigger picture, easily seen by less self-absorbed human beings. Every single vacant lot in the world was being mowed flat by a bland looking man, who was identical in feature to every other bland-looking man mowing a vacant lot. Too weird. Reporters tried to talk to the men, but they placidly mowed each lot, one after another. Where did all of the mowers come from? There were no brand markers on the machines. As soon as the lots were cleared, furrows were plowed The bland men moved implacably, good neighbors every one, and stopped the racket of agricultural busywork well before dinnertime. They started the next day after sunrise. The story got bigger as the days passed. It was on the front page of newspapers, and everyone seemed to have a hot take on what was really going on. Aliens? Nah, they looked too normal. Clones? How could millions of clones make it to adulthood without someone catching on? As far as I could tell, I was the only one who'd successfully spoken to any of these....people, if that's what they were. I thought I might be able to tell someone about my weird experience, but I was also positive that no one would believe me. I told my husband the strange tale and he laughed at my creativity and rubbed my back as I drifted off to sleep. The next morning, I drove the kids to school and went to the public library. I used it frequently for escapist fiction, mostly about young women in the early 19th century trying to snag a spouse. I went straight to the reference desk. Do you know what's going on with these guys mowing and plowing everywhere?" The librarian grimaced, "You're number six to ask today. We have no idea," I returned a stack of Regencies into the slot next to the desk, and walked back to my car without grabbing any new trashy fiction. I drove home pensively, worried that I had fucked up something big. Safe in my garage, I felt my anxiety rise, and tried to breathe slowly and smoothly and reason my way through this mystery. I agreed to let someone plant the trees that I knew we needed We clearly weren't taking care of our planet and someone else was stepping in for us. Did it really matter that I didn't understand their reasoning or motivations? l'd been begging the world for so long, and someone finally listened. Panic attack averted, I stepped into my kitchen and rinsed the breakfast dishes before loading the dishwasher. looked out of my kitchen window and saw a wall of trees in the formerly vacant lot. Not seedlings, fully grown and mature trees.T flipped on the news, and it was the same everywhere. The trees were in. The space station reported that there were just new trees everywhere, they hadn't been uprooted from forests, they just suddenly existed. Every tree fit perfectly in its microclimate, and fruit and nut trees were included in each single-lot forest freely available for hungry mouths I ran outside and looked for the man. He was standing with his hands on his lower baçk looking up. Fruit trees were in full bloom. Conifers looked like they'd been growingg there since time began. I stood next to the man.I didn't even know what words I could use to express my gratitude, my discomfort, my fear "WE ARE DONE, MS. APPLESEED" he buzzed, and suddenly became a cloud of bees. The cloud, the machinery, the man all dispersed. The signed paper fell to the newly turned earth. The trees stayed where they were. A lot of people had been watching the planters. A lot of people saw the planters become clouds of bees. A lot of people grabbed one of the billion copies of my signed contract, and everyone saw my name, clear as day. "Terra Appleseed, Mother of Trees", the headlines called me My number was unlisted, but my phone didn't stop ringing for weeks. I didn't have any of the answers that the reporters wanted. I was just a dreamer, I told them. I don't know why the bees listened to me. The scientists had the most to say, of course. Carbon dioxide was down, oxygen was up Glaciers stopped melting, and while I was trying to sound like a functional adult, refusing any interview requests, my older daughter figured out how to make cold fusion work. She'd built a variation of a Farnsworth Fusor that fused two atoms of hydrogen into one of helium at room temperature, and suddenly eliminated the need for fossil fuel combustion With a ready-built platform, we freely gave away her discovery to anyone who'd listen. At first, people thought I'd somehow organized the tree thing to sell my daughter's invention but I knew we'd get by fine without charging a dime. The truth was more mysterious and unexplainable, but we, as a species, weren't going to get ourselves in such a fix again -- we didn't need to. We just needed the bees to start us off, and my daughter to finish our addiction to combustion People started planting their own trees, too, but nothing made them grow forty feet in a day. The bees kept that secret. I was much too boring to stay in the spotlight for long, and I returned to my diet of trashy novels and quiet longing for that feeling of secret importance that had filled the days of planting, the wonder at this enormous leap towards peace and understanding that seemed to fall into my lap It was enough. My obituary decades later would focus on the mystery of the trees, the dream I tried to spread, and the unexpected way it came true The trillion trees initiative worked. We reached for the stars, comfortable that our home planet was safe. We found life everywhere we looked. As far as I know, no one ever spoke to the bees again. Super long, sorry - A modern day fairy tale about trees.

#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Alive #Children #and

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meggellithorne · 4 years

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all the beautiful nostalgic moments of my youth:

1. homemade ice lollies

2. camping with my family

3. picking up acorns for the “perfect fire” with grampa

4. lanterns on New Years Eve

5. losing my favourite stick & Grampa holding my hand & following my steps to find it

6. braaing with Grampa

7. cooking with gran

8. school projects with my grandparents

9. my grade 7 lightning poster with mom

10. dad going all the way home from the airport to fetch my favorite ring so I didn’t have to leave home without it

11. mom doing me & my brothers nails in a little bowl when we were super small

12. that time I lost P200 I was supposed to give to my grade 7 teacher and had an anxiety attack and cried because I was so scared I’d get into trouble & mom gave me a hug and told me it was okay

13. trying on dresses for my matric dance with my mom & gran

14. going to milky lane & watching “When in Rome” with my gran

15. Ocean Basket with my dad

16. Perna Perna with my gran & grampa

17. drawing a whale at my grandparents house & my mom having it framed (age 7, mom drew a horse)

18. running down Kilimanjaro with my dad (even though he told my brother he’d rather have gone with him)

19. dad saying “I love you so much, you’re always on my side” one day when I was small and he came home late at night from work

20. dad bringing home two pieces of nickel from the mine for me & my little brother

21. mom teaching me how to draw shapes

22. napping at the top of my clothes cupboard because I could fit & liked to sleep in hidden places

23. my childhood friend Kyra & I picking lemons & putting them in our dresses to make boobs

24. shopping with mom

25. gran teaching me how to knit & getting me a Barbie sewing machine for my birthday

26. mom giving me a pretty purple passport doll one day when I was anxious that she was mad at me

27. gran teaching me how to plait

28. dads hugs & cuddles & little massages

29. Simba & Tigger, the most beautiful little animals

30. walking on the monkey bars with my friend Robynne every break time

31. teaching my childhood crush (Christiaan) how to write the number 3

32. making vegetable soup in my grade 1 class with Mrs Richards

33. Mrs Van de Bought taking me home and getting me an ice-cream because Harry Potter, our class movie, was really scary (age 4)

34. Shakawe with my friend Shevaun: we made up silly songs & put on a show for the family (age 11)

35. the day my dad bought home my JCB teddy bear from his company trip in London

36. Christmases in Plett, and riding our bikes all over (especially the time it flooded & we had to cycle in knee deep water, which was really fun)

37. story telling after lights out in the boarding house

38. my little brother and I climbing onto the roof when mom wasn’t home and jumping into the pool with our friend/brother Neil

39. also climbing onto the roof and having picnics

40. quad biking with our parents and squishing into pairs on the bikes

41. dressing up as a cat and climbing trees with my friend Meagan

42. switching clothes & climbing the jungle gym every time we went to Anniques house

43. picking mulberries with Jemma

44. decorating the treehouse at our new house

45. dad bringing home Patch

46. diving down & picking marula fruit out of the pool

47. singing to my little cousin Eric while we were waiting for his mom to get home (he was scared she wouldn’t)

48. playing teacher with my little brother and his friend Barend (I even gave them homework)

49. teaching my little brother how to read

50. my high school friendships, their closeness & the sisterhood (Kelly, Kieran & Tshili)

51. Aero plane trips home from boarding school with Amy

52. holding my little cousin Robbie when he was just a baby (making extra sure I was cradling his head)

53. playing barbies outside with my little brother and building whole towns

55. that carpet with the roads & a little city which we’d play cars on

56. drawing hearts with mine & Christiaans initials on the mirror after I showered

57. the day he asked me to be his girlfriend in grade 6 (we said we loved each other straight after that lol)

58. taking Simba into the bush and driving slowly behind her in the car as she ran into the wilderness

59. making little beds in my draws for Tigger

60. the furry mouse toy/memento the vet gave me after Tigger died

61. Sun City with Sean & Conner (and one time my grandparents came) on all my birthday’s.

62. when I got my first phone from my gran and Grampa

63. me & Hannah’s medieval outfits from my Aunty Carol

64. all the important people being proud of me & my good report cards

65. my walk with dad when he told me he’d like me to repeat grade 8 because I was too much younger than my peers (who bullied me)

66. watching “How to lose a guy in 10 days” every Christmas with my mom, because for some reason it always showed on TV in December

67. chewing gum for the first time on Robberg mountain

68. boogie boarding with my dad because we were too young to do it ourselves

69. dad’s French toast

70. Mom’s soup

71. lunches with my aunty & gran every Wednesday during my first year at boarding school

72. decorating my room at my gran & Grampa’s house

73. building my milk carton car with my Grampa in the back yard

74. gran’s Sunday brunches & Heckers nursery

75. singing “party for 2”, “lemon tree”, “pretty Belinda”, “away in a manger” and “grandpas old jalopy” in the car as a family during road trips

76. picking flowers and bringing them to my mom

77. making special headache bags (sandwich bags with water and flowers in them, tied with a hair band) & special soap concoctions in the shower

78. climbing the tree at the the tennis club

79. playing with red velvet mites & mophane worms & making them race

80. riding those plastic black motorbikes on the tennis courts

81. jay boarding with Reece & Kyle (and tying them to the back of our bikes to go extra fast)

82. turning a lawnmower into a go-cart with my little brother

83. spray painting fishing lures with my dad

84. drawing a horse sign for the farm with my little cousins (I was director)

85. my first kiss

86. dancing with my roommate KB at a dance I forgot the name of but had the best time at

87. singing my moms ringtone so she’d think her phone was ringing and would come find us

88. playing rugby and soccer with my dad

89. playing canasta with my dad & our secret cheat code

90. being 5 years old and insisting on like 4 outfit changes every day

91. Aunty Solfrid washing and styling my hair with little butterfly clips and doing my makeup

92. being in a dance play and getting to be a pink ballerina (age 4)

93. playing tennis with Loryn & Shevaun

94. breaks with Robyn & Tunanjina (we “invented” a game where you had to throw our school hats to each other & catch them with sticks)

95. watching high school musical with my mom & little brother

96. singing & playing “I’m a Barbie girl on repeat” with a big set of headphones

97. dressing up as a fairy or princess every chance I got

98. watching the nutcracker & Care Bears on video at my grans house

99. going to the pantomime

100. the elephant teddie bear that aunty Vicki got me when Eric was born, and the brown talking bear she got especially for me when I had pneumonia

101. helping dad with the cottage window putty

102. decorating “my room” with gran & grampa

103. boat trips with the family, dad letting us drive around the bouys & mom teaching us how to blow bubbles with chappies

104. singing “angels” by Robbie Williams with KB in the boarding house & painting our nails glittery blue

105. being a close little family & feeling loved & cherished & important

I know these are just the good moments, and that writing this made me cry because things aren’t like this anymore; but these are the moments I will always hold close to my heart - however trivial they may seem.

#fairynotes

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x-enter · 5 years

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The life and rise of Tim Sweeney, the billionaire CEO and founder of the company behind 'Fortnite,' Epic Games

Tim Sweeney is the CEO and founder of Epic Games, the company that brought the world "Fortnite."

Despite having a net worth of $7 billion, Sweeney enjoys the simpler things in life like Diet Coke and fried chicken from Bojangles'.

Read on to learn about the life and rise of Sweeney as he changes the way the world thinks about video games.

Visit Business Insider's homepage for more stories.

Tim Sweeney may seem like your average guy. He likes hiking, tinkering with technology, the occasional Diet Coke, and fried chicken from Bojangles'.

However, he is anything but average. Sweeney is the CEO of Epic Games, the company behind "Fortnite" — the popular battle-royale-style video game that raked in over $2.5 billion in 2018. Epic Games also brought games like "Gears of War" into the mainstream.

Sweeney has a net worth of $7 billion, millions of which he has donated to forest conservation efforts.

When it comes to tech execs, Sweeney is one who remains rather low-key. He's single, unmarried, and doesn't have any kids. And he's never been enticed by the flashy trappings of Silicon Valley: Epic Games is based out of Cary, North Carolina, just down the road from Raleigh.

Sweeney's first-ever job is still his current job, though the responsibilities have changed since founding Epic Games in 1991. Overall, Sweeney describes his life as "simple." If he means a simple life that has also radically changed the way millions of people play video games online, then, sure — a simple life indeed.

Here's everything you need to know about Tim Sweeney, CEO of Epic Games.

SEE ALSO: The first video games and software programs famous tech CEOs made when they were young

DON'T MISS: These 7 tech CEOs and executives lost millions, along with the companies they helped build

Tim Sweeney, 48, was born in 1970 and raised in Potomac, Maryland, with two older brothers. His father was a cartographer for the US government and his mother took care of Sweeney and his brothers.

Source: Wall Street Journal

When Sweeney was a preteen, he visited his eldest brother in San Diego, California, at a startup he was working at, which had an IBM computer. His brother taught him how to program on it, and Sweeney spent the rest of the rather impressionable trip "just programming the computer, figuring things out."

Sources: Gamasutra, Kotaku

After turning 11, Sweeney spent hours on the Apple II Plus computer his brother gave him and used it to program video games. Sweeney told The Wall Street Journal in an interview that he spent more time "programming than I think I was sleeping or in school or doing any other one thing in the world."

Sources: CNBC, The Wall Street Journal

Sweeney would play Nintendo's "Super Mario Bros." when he was a child as a way to "discover what games were doing and how they were doing it," according to an interview with video game website Kotaku in 2011. Aside from gaming, the inquisitive future CEO would also take apart lawnmowers, radios, and TVs to see how each gear functioned. He was also a big fan of arcades.

Source: Kotaku

Sweeney attended the University of Maryland as a mechanical-engineering major. During his second year of college, he decided to go all-in with gaming by creating his first full-fledged video game, "ZZT." He also founded his company, Potomac Computer Systems, which would later become Epic Games, to develop the "ZZT."

Source: Gamasutra, CNBC

Despite being a gifted young coder, Sweeney didn't initially know how to program graphics, like "actual characters and objects," into ZZT. Instead, he used symbols and smiley faces that would attack monsters and "run through levels." The hardware also functioned as an editor, so users could create their own games with it. He released the game in 1991.

Source: Engadget

Sweeney dropped out of University of Maryland just one credit shy of graduating and moved back in with his parents in Potomac when he was 20. He used the $4,000 in his savings and began working on what would later become Epic Games in his parents' garage. For quite some time, customers who were interested in buying a copy of "ZZT" sent checks to Sweeney's parents' house, and waited for a disk copy of the game to come in the mail.

Sources: The Wall Street Journal, CNBC

Sweeney sold "several thousand" copies of "ZZT" while living with his parents. He rebranded his company as Epic Games, a name Sweeney said was "kind of a scam to make it look like we were a big company." With new orders coming in daily, Sweeney was able to move out of his parents' house in 1999 and quit his side-gig, mowing lawns.

Source: Gamasutra

Sweeney then moved Epic Games to Cary, North Carolina, where it still remains. At the start, Sweeney's primary role was still programming, until the release of "Unreal," the company's inaugural first-person shooter video game.

Source: CNBC

"Unreal," which was released in 1998, was a PC-based game that allowed users the ability to play together on separate computers. The 3D graphics technology behind the game was called the Unreal Engine "that has evolved to become the ubiquitous bedrock upon which Xbox 360, PlayStation 3, PC and even iPhone and iPad blockbusters are built," according to Kotaku.

Sources: Business Insider, Kotaku

In 2006, Epic's "Gears of War" was released. It was built upon the Unreal Engine for Microsoft’s Xbox 360. The New York Times described the game as "a more deliberate, thoughtful sort of shooter [with] plenty of action and gore." The publication also called "Gears of War" one of the "best looking" games.

Sources: CNBC, The New York Times, The New York Times

By the release and subsequent success of "Gears of War," Sweeney was 30 years old and beginning to see success. According to an interview he gave to the Journal in 2019, he had a “Ferrari and Lamborghini in the parking lot of my apartment ... People who hadn’t met me thought I must be a drug dealer.” Sweeney has since gotten rid of his sports cars.

Source: The Wall Street Journal

The first "Gears of War" franchise, which included nearly a dozen titles, went on to sell over 22 million units, making over $1 billion in revenue. (Microsoft bought the "Gears of War" franchise in 2014 for an "undisclosed amount.")

Source: CNBC, Gamepedia, Engadget

Epic Games is also responsible for games like "Shadow Complex" and the "Infinity Blade" series, both role-playing fighting games set in past and futuristic time periods. In 2013, Chinese tech company Tencent invested $330 million into Epic Games for a 40% stake.

Sources: Business Insider, CNBC

In 2015, Epic Games announced that the Unreal Engine would be made free, making it easier for any aspiring game developer to start their next project. The technology behind the Unreal Engine is regarded as "one of the most widely used engines in existence." By making the Unreal Engine free to use, Epic Games gets a cut when game developers and publishers sell games made with it — a significant part of the way the company generates revenue.

Source: Business Insider

Epic had revealed a new game it was working on called "Fortnite" in 2011, a survival-style game that Epic pictured as a small, indie title. But Epic didn't start offering early access to the game — at that point, it was simply "Fortnite Save the World," a cooperative shooter — until mid-2017.

Source: Polygon, IGN

Everything changed for Sweeney and Epic Games in September 2017 with the release of "Fortnite Battle Royale" — a free-to-play battle-royale-style version of the game where users "collect resources, make tools and weapons, and try to stay alive as long as possible." The game found worldwide success just a few months after its release, amassing over 200 million players across seven different game platforms.

Source: NBC, Business Insider

Sweeney, however, does not like to take credit for the success of "Fortnite" — he credits it largely to the game developers on his team. The Journal reported, "the entrepreneur is adamant about one thing: He did not create 'Fortnite' — his employees did. He didn't design or program the game" — but he did create the company that did.

Source: The Wall Street Journal

Even though "Fortnite" is free-to-play, Epic Games receives revenue from it "entirely from in-game purchases, even though the virtual goods give players no competitive advantage." Character costumes, called "skins," seasonal "battle passes," and accessories can cost up to $10 each. With over 250 million "Fortnite" players, the company made over $2.5 billion from the game in 2018 alone, and over $4 billion since its release.

Sources: Business Insider, Business Insider, Engadget, The New York Times

With the blockbuster success of "Fortnite," Sweeney skyrocketed onto Bloomberg’s Billionaires Index with a net worth of $7 billion. This puts him above other billionaires like George Lucas and George Soros, but well below tech giants Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos. Epic Games currently employs more than 700 people.

Source: Business Insider

"Fortnite" has not only made Sweeney a richer man, but many "Fortnite" players as well, including Tyler "Ninja" Blevins, 28, who reportedly made $1 million a month playing the game and streaming it on Twitch (he has now switched to streaming platform Mixer). This past summer, Epic Games also hosted a "Fortnite World Cup" where players could win a piece of a $30 million prize.

Sources: CNBC, USA Today

Read more: This 28-year-old makes $500,000 every month playing 'Fortnite' — here's how he does it

Sweeney is a very casual guy. His workplace attire consists of t-shirts and cargo pants. When people go to an interview at Epic Games, they are advised not to wear a jacket and tie.

Source: The Wall Street Journal

Despite having a sports car infatuation at the beginning of his career, Sweeney has since spent his millions on conservation efforts in North Carolina. He bought 193 acres in Alamance County for preservation and donated $15 million to protect 7,000 acres of forests in western North Carolina.

Source: Triad Business Journal

source https://www.businessinsider.com/fortnite-maker-epic-games-ceo-tim-sweeney-history-timeline-2019-10

#Entertainments

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seventeen-scenarios-blog · 7 years

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[SCENARIO] GardenFairy!Wonwoo

Just because I toooOoOoOtally don’t have 104398234 other works in progress......... :) I’m sorry this ended up way longer than I’d intended for it to be AHH the idea stemmed from a small talk between Hoshit and I, what the hell happened??

((((Also heavily featuring Mingyu because Meanie is life))))

wooed<3

okay so lets just say

Wonwoo’s a garden fairy that’s only five inches tall

With wings

He can shapeshift himself into a human-sized entity, but that kind of drains his powers a lot, so he tries his best to stay fairy-sized for as long as necessary

This tiny winged boi has been guarding this patch of grass at the back of a small single-story terrace house for the longest time.

His calling is to care for the gardens of the one that lives in the house

But the house has been left uninhabited for almost a dozen years

Wonwoo’s just left to wander about the fields

Yunno, just to make sure they stay healthy and green

He can’t really leave too, since it’s basically the sole purpose of his existence

Eventually gets too lazy and/or tired to tend to the weeds that are overwhelming the plot

Potential tenants enter the house with the landlord, but most of the time they leave without any promise to return

He even gets disdainful glares from the women when they glance out at the untended garden

But it’s not his fault...

It gets really lonely sometime and he gets unmotivated to carry out his job especially since there’s no one there to help him

Anyway

He totally has a love-hate relationship with the stray cat that had taken a stubborn residence in his precious patch

It poops everywhere, claws at Wonwoo’s wings and incessantly meows whenever he’s trying to get some sleep

Wonwoo doesn’t like her at first, but when she had saved him from a hungry tree shrew,

God she’s the most precious tabby he’s laid his eyes on alskdja like she’s basically turns into the sweetest pumpkin pie when he starts rubbing on the spots behind her ears.

And whenever Wonwoo gets tired from using his wings or walking across great lengths, he simply rests on her warm ginger fur

He dubs her ‘Thy Noble Steed’

So one day

While Wonwoo’s snoozing on ‘Thy Noble Steed’’s furry pelt

He gets startled awake by a moving truck pulling up in the driveway

Wait omg, could it be?

And lo and behold, this young man steps out of the moving van, and wastes no time to start helping the movers to shift his furniture in

Tall, freakishly tall when you’re five inches, decked in a plain beige trenchcoat which he promptly removes to convenience him while he carries the heavy couch

Wonwoo recognizes him as the final-year university student that came to survey the house almost half a year ago

He’s moving in?????

Of course this sm0l fairy is bursting with excitement he’s been waiting for this moment for a whole decade

And he’s even more excited that out of all the potential tenants that could have moved into the house

It was him

Because he’s the only one who has ever showed any sympathy towards Wonwoo’s precious garden

When he came to survey his house all those months ago

Wonwoo had sought refuge under some overgrown bracket fungus when said newcomer came to inspect the patch of grass behind his could-be future home

It was then Wonwoo had heard his voice for the first time

Deep, slightly husky but also ringing with utmost fascination

When he crouches down to examine the gradually yellowing fronds and thinning stems of the plants left by the previous tenant

“You’ll make a good home for my vegetables,” he had said with a hint of a grin on his face. “If I ever move in here, I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

Oh bless Wonwoo’s tiny heart

He’s been finding himself subconsciously praying to meet this Big Friendly Giant (rofl props to you if you get that reference, by the way) again

!!!!! AND HE’S HERE !!!!!

It takes a while but the new tenant finally managed to settle down in his new home

And a curious Wonwoo had to get a peek of his new companion

So he furiously bats his tiny pair of wings to pull him up to the window ledge

Phew, he hasn’t been getting this much strenuous exercise in a while (minus that one time he was outrunning the tree shrew)

He peers into the room to commence his spying

The first thing he sees is a steel stepladder and a long(??) figure perching on top of it with his hand outstretched towards the ceiling

With eyes blown wide Wonwoo watches as the boy:

Changes lightbulb after lightbulb in the house

Hooks up the wires to the big black thing with the big screen that shows tiny people when it’s turned on

And that tiny white thingamabob hanging on the wall that made annoying ringing sounds every now and then

Hey, no one said Wonwoo’s an electronics whiz

But either way, wow he looks like a competent guy?!

Surely he would be able to help Wonwoo restore the precious garden to it’s former glory...

Right?

Wonwoo couldn’t get much sleep that night because he’s so so nervous

Partly because he’s finally found a purpose in his existence again

But also because he’s been out of this game for so long, he’s not sure if he’s able to do a good job

He spends the night trying to recall what basic vegetables like spinach looked like and almost cries because he couldn’t

so precious omg creys

He’s been wanting this for so long, he needs to make sure he doesn’t fail the new tenant

And if the straw sunhat and flowery ahjumma pants the BFG sports when he walks into the backyard is anything to go by,

he means business

Oh my god, Ahjumma pants... are those still trending?

Wonwoo gets overly distracted by his flashy entrance he almost forgot to hide

Thank goodness for ‘Thy Noble Steed’’s timely intervention that provided ample distraction and time for Wonwoo to duck behind an abandoned flowerpot

Once again, Wonwoo comes face to face with him, and hears his voice again for the first time in months.

“Hello, it’s me, Mingyu again.” Mingyu, so that’s his name.

“I promised that I’ll take care of you, didn’t I? Now let us make good on that promise.”

AWWWW YIIIIIISS

He stands up with a determined glint in his eyes, and Wonwoo’s almost about to squeal with joy

But then Mingyu pauses, then proceeds to pat himself down

“Oh god, I left the gardening supplies back in the house.”

And everything goes downhill from hereon.

Wonwoo’s face quickly morphs from admiration to utter horror when Mingyu re-emerges from the house

Arm full of gardening supplies

And promptly trips over the curb and spills evERYTHING IN HIS HANDS

You know they say how the bigger you are, the harder you fall?

Wonwoo swears he could hear every bone in Mingyu’s body pop

Then he sits down by the grass

“Oh, these look pretty, I’ll keep these ones growing,” he declares as he REMOVES THE SEEDLINGS AND STARTS CULTIVATING THE WEEDS

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL??

ALL OF WONWOO’S HARD WORK

DESTROYED IN THE HANDS OF THE GIANT IN A SINGLE MORNING

HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO TINY GARDEN FAIRY WONWOO

NO NO NO THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING, MAYBE HE’S JUST TIRED FROM THE MOVE HE’LL GET HIS HEAD ON STRAIGHT SOONER OR LATER

but no

Wonwoo’s image of this Big Friendly Giant is promptly shattered within the next two days

He does know his way around the lawnmower, thank goodness. Wonwoo doesn’t want to get his wings sliced off any time soon, thanks

But ???? if he thinks vegetables and fruits are magically going to sprout overnight just by scattering assorted seeds haphazardly across the barely tilled soil and then DROWNING them in 10 galleons of water, Wonwoo’s got news for him

IT. DOESN’T. WORK. LIKE. THAT.

*insert sm0l wonwoo making frustrated gestures and hissing indiscernable curses under his breath from behind his tiny toadstool*

When Mingyu finally retires for the night and heads back to sleep

Wonwoo springs into action, rearraging the seeds to make sure they have ample space to germinate, sorting them by types (he only has carrots, pepper and spinach), and adding grit to drain out the moisture Mingyu had given them a generous dosage of

Even manages to convince ‘Thy Noble Steed’ to help dig and loosen the soil

Ends up toiling the night away bc there’s no way in hell he’s going to let his first gig in a decade go down the drain like that

Eventually gets impatient and shapeshifts into his human form so that he can be more productive

Famous First Words™ by Wonwoo

Honey, it’s because you’re living with Kim Mingyu now

A super drained and exhausted, tiny-again Wonwoo collapses onto his cat’s fur by daybreak

But if he thinks things will get any better after this

He thinks wrong

Sometimes Mingyu gets forgetful and goes out for basically the whole day, leaving the garden unattended

Which is definitely unideal when growing something as delicate as spinach

So Wonwoo has to step in and water the plants himself

And when Mingyu does come to the garden... he ends up fussing over the perfect placements for the garden gnomes he had bought online rather than doing actual gardening

“Wow, the carrots are really growing well.” *points to spinach*

“I must be really good at this gardening thingamajig.”

No, Mingyu, god no...

#SaveGardenFairyJeonWonwoo’sSanity2K17

No thanks to Mingyu, the vegetables began to grow and flourish

Mingyu comes out looking for the perfect ingredients to make his signature dishes

As bad as a gardener Mingyu turned out to be, he’s actually a hella good cook, as Wonwoo could tell from the number of guests he invites over and the absurd amounts of time he spends in the kitchen whipping up meals

But this time this giant man wanted to use his homegrown ingredients (for, yunno, the sincerity of it all i guess?) So this tree of a man emerges from his house armed with an empty basket (and a sun visor, mind you)

As usual, Wonwoo seeks refuge behind his trusty toadstool

Yeah, steal all my blood, sweat and hard work I’ve put into cultivating these you ass thanks for nothing

“Oh, the carrots are finally ripe? I’ll take these.”

He says while pointing to the spinach AGAIN

And Wonwoo finally snaps

“THOSE ARE SPINACH YOU DUMB TREE. CARROTS DON’T EVEN RIPEN.”

Mingyu looks up, stunned

“Is this the voice of god?”

“I’M DOWN HERE, DINGBAT.”

Mingyu just blinks down at this five inch tall child with wings yelling at a six foot giant

“What are you supposed to be? Some kind of gremlin?”

“I’M A GARDEN FAIRY, THE GUARDIAN OF THE--”

Wonwoo doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Mingyu already has the tiny boy scooped up in his hands, and boom, he comes face-to-face with an overgrown puppy

“OHMYGOSHAREN’TYOUTHECUTESTLITTLETHINGEVERYALSKJFLAKJFYOU’RESOTINYANDPRECIOUSYOUNEEDTOBEPROTECTEDATALLCOSTSDOYOUWANTFOODIHAVEFOODANDWATERANDAWARMBEDFORYOUYOUTINYLITTLETHING.”

“Call me tiny one more time and I’ll stuff that carrot up your ass.”

“Yes, sir.”

So that marks the legendary meeting between Wonwoo and Mingyu

And thankfully things take the turn for the better.

With Wonwoo’s guidance, Mingyu manages to hone and refine his gardening skills (and is finally able to tell a spinach from a carrot)

“Why were you so bad at this again?”

“They made it look so easy when I was playing Gardening Mama on my DS as a kid...”

Slowly but surely, Mingyu becomes the capable tenant Wonwoo’s always longed for his garden

At times, he would let Wonwoo sit on his shoulder/in his pocket as he works. Wonwoo secretly really enjoys watching Mingyu cook.

Sometimes Mingyu forgets that he has a tiny living being perched on his right shoulder and he’d fkin SNEEZE there, sending the poor boy flying off drenched in snot

#SaveGardenFairyJeonWonwoo’sSanity2K17Part2

Mingyu persuades Wonwoo to abandon his shelter behind the toadstool and come live with him in his house, where he’s hand-knitted a large, woolen sock for the fairy to sleep in

Even sews a tiny doll named Bongie to accompany Wonwoo in case he gets lonely

naw

Mingyu even adopts ‘Thy Noble Steed’ into his home and promptly starts and argument with Wonwoo because he wants to rename her Fluffy McMuffins the First

Fluffy McMuffins ‘Thy Noble Steed’ the First is a TOTAL sweetheart to Wonwoo by the way, but hisses at Mingyu all the damn time.

But they still make a happy-ish family

One day the two wake up to discover that their yard’s been overrun by gophers, and all of their crops have been either damaged or eaten

“Can’t you sprinkle some fairy dust to make them go away,” cries Mingyu

“I don’t know, Mingyu, can’t you stop your whining for once?”

So to help Mingyu deal with the pest issue, Wonwoo slides off his shoulder and in a bang of light he morphs into his human form

And Mingyu’s jaw hits the ground

“YOU’RE A DUDE?!”

At this point Wonwoo doesn’t even try to entertain his companion anymore

Wonwoo ends up passing out from exhaustion from holding up his human form for too long and spending the day chasing rodents

Wakes up tucked in his sock-bed with a tiny towel across his forehead

“Ey, nobody told you to show off your fancy fairy powers like that, now look what you did to yourself,” Mingyu nags

Mingyu ends up nursing the fairy back to health.

But omg imagine Mingyu purchasing those mini Japanese cooking sets so that he can cook fairy-sized dishes for Wonwoo vvvvv

im literally so soft rn ^^^^^

“You realise that I can always just take small chunks of your own food?”

“Shut up and let me care for you.”

This goes on for a while, and the both of them establish a peaceful coexistence.

Wonwoo makes sure the garden is in healthy and optimal condition

While Mingyu takes care of him (and by extension, Fluffy McMuffins ‘Thy Noble Steed’ the First), and makes sure he doesn’t overwork himself

This goes on for a while, and Wonwoo’s finally happy and fulfilled

Until the first morning of Autumn rolls around...

“KIM MINGYU, THIS ISN’T HOW YOU SOW PUMPKIN SEEDS?!?!??!”

And here they go again

197 notes · View notes

awesome-brick · 7 years

Text

stupid shit my friends and i have done/said over the years

this is going to be an ongoing list, i’ll reblog and add to it every so often with new material. if you want a full story, let me know a “ ^ ” means that it relates to the previous item feel free to tag yourself

chugged five double shot espressos in an hour and almost died

wobbled into our lounge after a party one night, completely unaware that he had ripped the front of his pants and his dick was completely out

got completely lost in the mardi gras parade with a dead cell phone, cause his girlfriend abandoned him

^ and then somehow pissed off and got a double k.o. on a massive redneck dude named keith who was probably thrice my friend’s size

^ him calling me when he came to, saying “help, i’m dead” to my other friend who replied, “hi dead, _i’m dad” _before he passed out and disconnected

peed in a bush, on campus, in broad daylight, in the middle of our conversation, while two hot girls were passing by

^ did it again ten minutes later

brought a violin to a frat party, to play while drunk (there’s still some videos of that floating around somewhere)

gotten stabbed by some dude after coming home from a different party

during campus tours, as a tour group was coming out of the elevator and we (4 of us) were going in; waited until right as the door was closing and said very loudly so they could hear, “SO HEY YOU GUYS WANNA GO SMOKE SOME POT?”

camped out in the floor lounge for the entirety of finals week building a settlement in a minecraft server

“i’ll have you know, I once injected _five whole marijuanas” “_oh shit can’t fuck with this guy”

organized a candlelight vigil for Sparky, a raccoon that allegedly jumped into a power transformer and cut off power to most of campus, canceling classes for a day and a half (over 200 people attended)

sat on the floor in the right of two elevators in our dorm, covered in blankets. when somebody would walk into the elevator, we’d pop our heads up in succession and say “welcome to Right Elevator Inc. If you look to your left, you’ll find the informations desk.” “How may we help you today?” and as they were exiting, “DON’T FORGET TO RATE AND REVIEW US ON YELP”

the tale of The Bridgebuilder

gave so little fucks for the chem test that he went in his pj’s, wearing a bathrobe and topknot. thus becoming notorious around campus as the “Chem Ninja”

“it’s hard to date girls taller than me. Given that i’m five foot two, I don’t exactly get a lot of options here”

actually smoked legit weed (instead of fake weed) onstage in the middle of a performance of a play

got “sexiled” (kicked out of the room for sex) by his roommate three times during orientation week, as in before freshman year even began

bought a wheelchair from goodwill on two different occasions bc it was <$10, so now he just has two wheelchairs for no reason

sold his gamecube and all his games to another friend for $50, all of which went to buying weed

^ one of the games was an original GC copy of Pikmin 2 which would go for about 100 alone on the internet these days

^ he also burned through (heh) all of that weed in a day

somehow woke up half naked in a parking lot, (just like the CaH card) missing exactly $20 cash. he had more, but he was only missing $20

somehow got sexiled out of his room by two other people, neither of which lived there

one dude that can spit mad freestyle bars, but only when he’s high

bought an IKEA storage shelf and generic painting to make our dorm room look _even more _like a hotel room than it already did

made a tally count to keep track of how many times my suitemate locked me out of the bathroom when he wasn’t in there (final tally was 215)

earned the title of Il Duche for his drunk!self

“It was not my intention to make out with your sister!”

^ he accidentally made out with each of his girlfriend’s siblings, on separate occasions

hooked up with someone over the summer, only to find out afterwards that they were seven years older

“mom, i’ve had more relationships than you”

_^ _(he’s at i think #29)

went to the mcdonalds drive-thru, he wanted chicken nuggets but didn’t know where the “mc” prefix went. it came out as something along the lines of “uh can i mchave a mcchicken mcnuggets and a large mcchocolate mcmilkshake”

^ we each wanted separate orders that time, so we had to drive around four times in a row. they were so tired of us by that point

missed an uber because he was too busy saying goodbye to literally everyone at the party he knew

said to a police officer, deadass, “i’ll let you walk me home, but there’s no way in hell i’m getting on that fucking bike”

^ afterwards, tried to jot down the officer’s name, badge number, and name of his superior so he could “put in a good word for the guy” (he was so wasted he had to sit down to write it all out)

dude getting so wasted at a party he started timeskipping, thought the year was 2025

gave my friend a glass of water at a party cause he was fading in and out, needed some water. to gauge his mental state, i ask him “what are you drinking” “water” “what’s the chemical formula for that?” deadass replied “hcl” without missing a beat and he keeps drinking

had a drunken rap battle with some famous local rapper at a party (my friend actually won)

crawled from the taxi to the apartment, cause he couldn’t walk

^ “I said one thing, ‘don’t say anything.’ One thing. Of course, you said something.”

so wasted he couldn’t get off the floor, the owner of the apartment going “you gotta go, dude!” “bruh” “i’m not your bruh, now get up”

“wake up with a random mexican guy in your bed. College, amirite?”

all three of us have “slept” in this one friend of ours’ bed, but only literally and not sexually. one of us cuddled with her and others platonically, another slept in the bed while she wasn’t there, and a third had passed out and she let him use her bed that night

"Marcus, you’re a socialist, why don’t you distribute some of them hot dimes”

“Rainbows, unicorns, Xanax- The classic stuff.”

(arguing about which pocket the phone goes in) “You put the phone in the butt, and the hands in the front”

my friend Robert, who is “the weebiest weeb to ever have weebd”

the fact that i accidentally always cockblock my friend unintentionally by virtue of being ace

my friend, (a dude) showing up to a date only to find out she’s a lesbian

the guy who routinely calls his exes while drunk. apparently he has a “system”, as to which exes he calls depending on how drunk he is

fencing practice on the courtyard

[sarcastically] “okay well as a straight, white male in politics, now i have to oppress you”

all of us basically ganging up on and whipping like the only white kid in our friend group (who’s like five feet tall) with our belts

barrel rolling down the mountain after someone stopped him from going home with a girl cause he was too wasted

the guy who asked his crush of 4yrs out in his valedictorian graduation speech, only to get shot down instantly (like jesus christ rip)

^ his mom to him, “why don’t you love me as much as you love her”

guy’s family owns a quiznos, so his go-to pickup line is, “hey, i own a quiznos, want me to make you a sandwich?” (times successful: none)

my friend’s little brother was reprimanded by his parents, cause he was reading up on buddhism, “i mean, I didn’t see what the issue was. Worst case, you’re learning buddhism, best case...you’re learning buddhism”

the time the timeskipping friend found himself a confederate soilder in the civil war era, but in an AU where the south won

^ he looks at my face, points at me, looks like he's about to start laughing hysterically, "you're fucked", "why" "because you're brown, and the south won" (keep in mind, this dude is 100% filipino and almost as brown as i am)

^ he starts rattling off some bullshit jargon about what division he was in, his name, blah blah blah, but we look it up later and everything exept his personal details lined up with actual historical fact, down to where his unit was based and the name of the commanding officer, noting details that even our resident historian hadn't even heard of before

^aaand he wouldn't go to sleep until we played dixie for him on a continuous loop

one of my friends has a habit of becoming both kleptomaniac and amnesiac when he’s drunk, so here’s a tally of the stuff he’s stolen, some of which we don’t even know where it came from (almost all of these have hilarious stories behind them so please ask);

pair of trash cans and recycling bins

half a bed frame

a large ten gallon paint bucket

pack of frozen tortillas

giant industrial fucking cinderblock, which was about the size of his abdomen

a pair of white shorts (he didn't own any)

a full set worth of coasters and shot glasses

a lawnmower

a vacuum cleaner

a broom

a sprinkler

a traffic cone (one of the tall skinny ones)

a banged up car door

a pack of cards

half empty paint cans

half a bra

#tag yourself #my life #my stuff #funny #long post

4 notes · View notes

fallen029 · 7 years

Text

Firsts.6

Lisanna didn't leave her house for, oh, two days at least. That was only in her attempt to avoid Bickslow though.

Not that he didn't bother her there. Because he did.

The first morning, he left a cake he bought at the bakery on the doorstep, with the words 'Sorry, kid' on it.

She let Laxus and Elfman eat it.

That afternoon there was a bouquet of roses left on the doorstep, though when she answered the ringing doorbell, he wasn't around.

She let Ever have them.

That night, before she went to bed, the doorbell rang again. She let Elfman answer it, though all he found there was a letter.

She burned it without looking at it.

And the next morning, there were a box of chocolates waiting when Mira went out to get the paper.

She let her keep them.

Then that afternoon, when the doorbell rang, Lisanna figured it was her turn, once again, to answer it and find out what stupid gift he sent.

Lucy. It was Lucy standing there, grinning at her.

"Hey, Lisanna," she greeted. "Me and Natsu came by to-"

"Natsu?" she asked, glancing around.

"Yeah, he's-" Lucy stopped when, after glancing behind her, she found that he wasn't around. "Well, he was here. I mean, he was just-"

Then there was a yell and the sound of fighting coming from the backyard. Rushing through the house then, both women were not shocked to find, when they got to the glass backdoor, to see Natsu fighting out there with Laxus, who had been cutting the grass for Mirajane.

"He must have heard the lawnmower and assumed it was Laxus," Lucy said softly as they watched Natsu, once again, get his butt kicked by the second generation dragon slayer. "Well, we lost Natsu for the day."

"Yeah," Lisanna agreed softly as they stood inside the house. Pressing a hand against the cool glass, she said, "Anyhow, you said you wanted something?"

"Not wanted, Lisanna. We were just coming over to see if you wanted to hangout or something."

She glanced at the blonde then before shaking her head. "No, I'm good."

"You sure?" Lucy cocked her head to the side. "Did you have something going on today?"

"No," she sighed. "I just-"

Then the doorbell rang and, without thinking, Lisanna rushed to go answer it. Lucy, after glancing at her boyfriend one last time (he was laying on the ground, moaning, as Laxus only got back to doing the lawn), she went to see what was going on.

"Hey," Lucy said as she came up behind Lisanna. "It's one of those dolls. That follow Bickslow around."

It was Pappa, with a note taped to his head. He was resting in Lisanna's hands though as she only stared down at him in shock.

"Why would he come here?" Lucy asked, hesitant. "You think it's for Laxus? Or-"

"It's for me," Lisanna mumbled, gently pulling the note off the baby's head before tossing him back into the air. Instead of flying off, Pappa moved to land on her head. Slowly, Lisanna closed the door.

"For you?" Lucy was getting a little creeped out then. "And I thought that they couldn't work without him controling them? So is he around or-"

"They're not…fake, Lucy. They're real. They're spirits. He just forces their body into different dolls, so that they can be seen." She was still reading the note again. Then, after a moment, she crumpled it up and threw it to the ground before turning to walk off, Pappa still on her head.

Curious, Lucy reached down to grab the note and slowly unfold it.

"Lisanna," she whispered. "He's…giving you one of his babies?"

"Lucy-"

"And what's he talking about? Why did you two fight? I mean, I didn't even know that you were friends. I thought-"

"We…Lucy."

"What?"

And then they were sitting down on the couch, Pappa moving to rest in Lisanna's lap, as she told Lucy everything. Everything. And she found that it was much easier than telling Mirajane for some reason. Maybe it was because she knew that no matter what, Lucy couldn't judge her. Not really. How could she? She was, after all, dating Natsu. She couldn't judge anyone.

And maybe, also, it was because Lisanna always put her older siblings on such higher levels than anyone else. She almost treated them as if they were perfect. Or at least Mirajane was. Sometimes she wondered about Elfman…

Still though, Lucy wasn't any of that. If anything, Lucy was supposed to be her rival. Yet…she wasn't. She was just Lucy. And they were friends. Maybe not the best of friends, but definitely something. And she sure beat the heck out of Edolas Lucy…

"And…and now he keeps leaving these gifts at the door," Lisanna concluded eventually as she and Lucy sat next to one another on the couch. "I think that's what Pappa is supposed to be."

"Pappa?"

"The doll," Lisanna explained. "They all have names, Lucy."

"Why would he give you him though?"

"I think so I would have to see him," Lisanna said then, staring down at the doll in her lap. "Is that it, Pappa?"

"That it," he agreed.

"He wants me to go give him back, I'm sure."

Lucy thought for a moment before saying, "Then-"

"But I'm not going to."

"Wh-What?"

"He wants Pappa back? He can come get him. I'm not going to him." With that, she stood, taking the little wooden doll with her. "He gave him to me. That means he's mine now."

"Lisanna," Lucy said slowly as she got up to follow her. "I don't think-"

"He'll be by at dinner time, I'm sure, with another stupid gift. Either that or to pick Pappa back up."

"And you're not going to give him back?"

Lisanna only headed to her bedroom, carrying Pappa back with her. Lucy was quick to follow.

"Lisanna, it was literally one fight. And you said that Laxus and Mirajane are cool with everything, huh? So maybe-"

"He said that I'm a brat and that I only crave attention. That I wasn't even good at sex and he didn't want me until I've matured. So guess what? He lost me. That's it. That's-"

"Everyone fights, Lisanna. Natsu and I-"

"Yeah right. You and Natsu don't really fight."

"Uh, yeah we do," Lucy said, making a face. "We do a lot. We-"

"You guys argue, fine, but you never-"

"Natsu and I broke up, two months ago. Or almost did. Over something just as silly as all this."

"This is not-"

"I know that you don't see it that way right now, trust me, I get it, but it is." She sighed then, coming further into the room. When Lisanna sat down on the edge of the bed, Pappa still in her arms, so did Lucy.

"It's just… He's never yelled at me. Ever. But he was. And Bickslow's so…"

"I don't know him well, Lisanna, at all. And anything I think of him is kinda slanted because he did turn me to stone that time. Or was at least involved in it," Lucy said, patting the other woman on the shoulder lightly. "But I do know that the worst fight Natsu and I ever had, and I mean worst, since getting together was kinda like this. We just blew up at each other and then, the next day, I had him and Happy at my feet, trying to apologize."

Lisanna was never one for hearing about how perfect the life Natsu was forging with Lucy was, but to hear about one of its darker sides? Yes, please.

"What did you two fight over?" Lisanna asked slowly, glancing up at Lucy, her blue eyes glistening slightly. "Lucy?"

"It's kinda…silly," she said then, making a face before glancing up at her friend. "It… Well, Natsu has a lot of annoying habits. You know? And he needs a lot of attention most of the time. That's probably the biggest habit. And one day, I was supposed to hangout with Erza. It was already planned and everything. I even told him that I was going to. But then, he sprang it on me that he had plans for us."

Lisanna blinked. "That's the fight?"

Blushing, Lucy said, "Not just that. It started with that. Because, see, Happy was there and you know how he likes to pick at me."

"Yeah," Lisanna mumbled. "I've noticed."

"And he kept it up too, even though I was getting upset with Natsu, who was saying that I just didn't care about our relationship and all this other stuff. So I sort of just…exploded. At him. Both of them, really."

"And then what?"

"Well, I started complaining about how they just use me. For food and a place to stay and that neither of them really treats me well. And that Happy's usually rude to me for no reason. Then Natsu got upset, which was odd, I know, but he gets real mad when I tell him that he treats me badly, and said that I was just a spoiled girl that wanted everyone to constantly do whatever she wanted. And when I didn't get my way, I'd cry or run off until I did."

"Really?" Lisanna asked. "Natsu said that to you?"

She nodded slightly. "So then I started yelling at him, about all he cares about is Happy and finding Igneel and doesn't care anything about me. And then he told me that he couldn't care for me, when all I ever did was complicate his life. When all I ever did was make things harder on him. That I had to be the worst teammate ever because most of the time wasn't spent on the job, but rather trying to keep me out of trouble."

"Wow."

"Yeah. And then I started crying and Happy tried to comfort me, but Natsu was still pissed and just walked out, so Happy went with him…for about ten minutes. Then he was trying to get back into the apartment, but I wouldn't let him in. I even locked my window so they couldn't get in that way. Closed my blinds."

"And then what?"

"Well, I didn't even go meet Erza for our plans. I just stayed in my apartment and moped. Cried some. Then, the next day, when I left my apartment, I ran into Natsu and Happy. They'd been hanging around all morning, apparently. And I just told them that I didn't want to be a part of a team that I was only bringing down and that I never wanted to see either of them again."

"You told them that?"

"Mmmhmm. And then Natsu started trying to tell me that he loved me and that he was just upset, that was all. And Happy apologized. He even tried to give me a fish."

"Cute."

"It would have been, had I not been so pissed still. I only told Natsu that I was done with him and to never talk to me again. And I ignored them too, that whole day. And the next day. Then, on the third day, I sort of caved."

"Why?"

She sighed slightly. "Well…"

"What?"

"I, you know, missed him. And there's no way that we really couldn't be on a team together anymore. I would practically have to leave Fairy Tail if I broke up with him. He's the one that brought me there, you know, when we first met. He's… I'm stuck with him. And he's stuck with me." Then she giggled. "And when I went to apologize for acting that way, he only hugged me and promised me never to fight with me again. And Happy only laid up on my head, like he does Natsu, and said that he was sorry too. Of course, we were fighting again, Happy and I, by the end of the day, but that's just to be expected, really."

Lisanna sat there for a moment before frowning. "Lucy?"

"Mmmm?"

"…I really don't think that has anything to do with me or my situation. Like at all."

"Yeah," she sighed. "I thought so about half way through, but-"

"Are you guys in here?"

Then, her bedroom door was opening again and Natsu was walking in once more. At the sight of the two women on the end of the bed, he only groaned. "Lucy, Laxus totally hurt me for no reason whatsoever."

"No reason, huh?"

"Nope," he said with a shake of his head. "But I'll totally get him next time."

And just like that, Natsu came over to the bed, jumping into it without a second thought.

"Natsu," Lucy shrieked as Lisanna only blushed. "Do you have no manners? Seriously?"

He only groaned, laying against the pillows. Then, turning his head slightly, he mumbled, "Your bed smells like you, Lisanna."

"What else would it smell like?" she asked, still flustered. "Natsu, maybe you should get-"

"Mmmm," he sighed, turning his head to the side then. "I'm tired. Laxus punches like a beast."

"That doesn't mean that you can just barge in here, Natsu." Lucy reached over to poke his side. "Seriously. Get up. You're being rude."

"Lisanna don't care." He turned his head to bury it back into the pillows, letting out a slow breath. "Can one of you make me something to eat? I'm kinda hungry."

"Natsu," Lucy complained. "Really, you-"

"Natsu," Pappa called then, flying out of Lisanna's hands. Natsu lifted and turned his head at that, glancing over at the doll.

"Oh, hey. Isn't that one of Bickslow's…thingies?"

"It is," Lisanna sighed as she stood slowly. Lucy was still poking her boyfriend's side though. After Pappa landed on her head, she sighed and glanced back over at them.

"Hey, guys? I think…I think I want to be alone for awhile, huh?" Lisanna went over to her door, staring at them again. "Sorry. I don't think I wanna hangout today. That's all."

"You sure?" Lucy asked as she stood, grabbing Natsu by the foot before dragging him off the bed with a loud oof.

"Mmmhmm."

"No fair," Natsu complained as Lucy promptly drug him out of the room, no doubt giving him carpet burn in the process. "How come the doll gets to stay?"

After they were gone, Lisanna only went to lay down on her bed once more, putting it out of her mind that only moments before, Natsu had been there. Sure, his girlfriend had been in the room and he had not been the least bit interested in her, but still. It had been something.

"Mmmm. You like it, Laxus?"

He opened his mouth when Mira held out the big spoon towards him, a bit of her stew on the end. When he nodded, she only giggled before going back to stirring the pot. He only went back to chopping up the vegetables while Lisanna, who was at the table, sighed.

"Did you wanna taste, Lisanna?" Mirajane asked, glancing over at her. The younger woman only shook her head.

"No," she sighed. "I'm just-"

"Taste," Pappa chanted as he flew around. "Taste."

Growling then, Laxus said, "When the hell are we getting rid of that thing?"

"Now, now, Laxus. You get upset when Elfman asks the same thing about you."

"Mira-"

"Bickslow gave it to me," Lisanna told them softly as Pappa came to land on the table in front of her. "He left it on the doorstep."

Laxus grunted. "Tell him to leave more cake."

"Laxus."

"What, Mira? I liked that cake."

Lisanna only shifted to rest her head against the table with a sigh. "He hasn't brought me anything else tonight. Maybe Pappa was the last gift?"

"Last gift," Pappa repeated. "Last gift."

"He'll want him back, I'm sure," Mirajane told her.

"I know. I think that he's going to try and make me see him by giving him back. But I won't."

"We can't keep it," Mira said.

"Yeah," Laxus grumbled as he turned to scrap the vegetables into the pot. "What would it even eat?"

"He doesn't eat, Laxus," Lisanna sighed. "He just…exists."

"Well, does it poop? Because-"

"If he doesn't eat, how could he poop? And you've been on jobs before with Bickslow, so wouldn't you know all this?"

"I don't pay attention to him and his creepy dolls."

Pappa made a noise then, at the sound of his master's name. "Papa."

"Lisanna, you can't keep him and you know it," Mira told her, frowning over at her sister. "And if you want him to leave you alone, really leave you alone, then I'll talk to him. Do you want that?"

"No," she grumbled. "That would only make me look even more like a kid."

"Let Ever tell him to fuck off," Laxus suggested then as he pressed a kiss to Mira's head before going to get a beer from the fridge. "They're close."

"No, I-"

"Where are Evergreen and Elfman?" Mira asked then. "I haven't seen them all day. Not even at the guild."

"Maybe they took a job," Laxus suggest. Lisanna only shut her eyes then.

"I wanna take a job," she mumbled. "And get away from here."

"Then maybe you can look at the board tomorrow, huh?" Mirajane asked. "That would be good for you. Get out of the house."

"Well, if Elfman's gone, then I'd have to go alone."

"Hmmm." Mira thought about that one for a moment, frowning. "If you wanted to go alone, I guess, you could. I mean, you always tell me to let you make your own decisions."

Reaching out, Lisanna stroked Pappa's head. "I just want to get away from Magnolia. Bickslow and…and Natsu."

"You and this Salamander shit needs to get finished. I'm tired of hearing about it," Laxus told her as he popped the tab on his drink. "Seriously."

"Behave," Mira told him to which the man only grunted before turning to walk out of the room. Then, to her sister, she said, "Is there something that you want me to do, Lisanna?"

"No," she groaned. "I'm fine. I'm just…sad, I guess."

"Well, don't be. Huh? You couldn't have thought the first guy you were with would be the last. Did you?"

"No. Not at first. But I did kinda like Bickslow," she admitted. "He was a lot of fun. And he was really…sweet. Before. And-"

"Do you wanna get back with him?" Mira was finished with messing with the stew then and walked over to the table to take a seat. "Because I think it's clear that he wants to get back with you."

"I dunno," she said with a shake of her head. "I liked him, before, but then he had to go and say all those things. Now I'm just… I dunno. I'm angry at him, still."

"Hurt," Mira agreed. "You're hurt that he was rude to you."

"I guess so."

"You know," she said slowly. "Laxus and I have broken up before."

"No, you haven't. You've just told him to stay away for a week, he'll go on a job, come back with a gift, and you'll be back together before the next week starts."

"That's true," Mira admitted with a giggle. "But it doesn't mean that at the time I'm really ready to break up with him. But I never do. Not really."

"Why?"

"Because…I love him."

Just then, they heard Laxus belch from somewhere else in the house before calling for Mira to bring him another beer.

"I love parts of him," Mirajane corrected as she stood to go do as Laxus had asked. "And even the parts I don't like I find cute."

"My fucking beer, woman?" Laxus growled from somewhere else.

"So cute," Lisanna mumbled as Mira only giggled, rushing off to do as Laxus asked.

"It balances out," she called over her shoulder to Lisanna. "He might be gruff and angry most of the time, but by the same token, he wouldn't ever let anything happen to me. He won't really hurt me. And I'm no angel either."

"You're a demon."

"You have no idea," she said, giggling as she walked out of the room. Lisanna only shifted though, keeping a hand on Pappa, as if to calm him. She knew that he had to be worried about Bickslow. She was a little shocked, to be honest, that the man had left the doll there. He usually was so caring about them.

"Do you know, Pappa? Why he brought you?" She sat up a little to look at the wooden doll. "Huh?"

"See Lisanna," the doll told him. "Miss Lisanna."

"You missed me?"

"Lisanna."

She picked the doll up then, holding him in her palm. "But you want to go back to your daddy, don't you?"

"Papa."

"And it would be wrong of me, I know, to keep you here as a hostage or something. You're not just magic. You're…you're a soul. And you should be with Bickslow. You love him. And I'm a horrible person for ever thinking otherwise."

"Naked Lisanna."

She blinked. "You're a little annoying though, I will admit that."

Just then, the backdoor opened and in walked Elfman and Evergreen. They were talking to one another, but upon the sight of Lisanna, they fell silent.

"Hey, Lisanna," Ever said slowly, dropping her hand from Elfman's arm, where it had been resting previously.

"Hey."

"Your sister around?"

"She went to bring Laxus a beer."

Elfman frowned then, coming further into the house. "So not only does he drink my beers, he makes my sister serve him?"

"What else is new?" Ever sighed, going to check what was in the pot. "She made stew, Elf. You wanna stay and eat that or do you want to go out?"

"It's whatever you want," he told her, headed over to Lisanna. When he patted her on the head, he said simply, "Did you get another cake?"

"Elfman, leave her alone," Ever complained, making a face at him. Then, turning, she saw Pappa there and frowned. "What's the doll doing there?"

"It was his latest gift."

"What kinda man gives a woman a doll instead of another cake?"

"Elf," Lisanna sighed. "And Pappa wanted to come see me. He missed me."

Ever only sighed, stirring Mira's stew for her. "Well, Lisanna, I have to say, this is a first."

"What is?"

"Bickslow giving away one of his babies," Evergreen said with a shake of her head. "Unheard of."

"Who cares what that guy does?" Elfman complained. "Breaking up with my sister is not manly. And you need a man, Lisanna. Don't be like Mira. Don't be with someone like Laxus."

"The hell you saying about me, Elfboy?"

And just like that, Mira was coming back into the room, her arms wrapped around one of Laxus' arms as she drug him with her. In his other hand was a beer can, which he took a sip from while he was at it.

"Behave," Mira giggled, tugging Laxus along. "And good, Elfman and Evergreen are here."

"Why's that a good thing?" Laxus grumbled as Elfman only took to glaring at him. "Just means I gotta share this damn stew."

"Stop cursing so much," Mirajane ordered as she led him over to a chair, setting him down in it. Once he was seated, she went to drag her brother into a chair as well. Evergreen, seeing this, rolled her eyes before going to claim the last chair. Mira, happy with this, jumped into Laxus' lap.

"What is up with you?" he asked her with a frown as he sat his beer down. "Mira-"

"We have a very important family matter to discuss," she said as Lisanna frowned. "Whether or not-"

"We ain't family," Laxus told her stiffly.

"I would never have such an unmanly person in my family," Elfman agreed. Evergreen only straightened her glasses.

"And I have no attachment to any of you. Believe me."

"We are all family and we have a family matter to discuss. Now I can scold you all for your resistance to this, or we can just get it over with," Mirajane told them.

"No need for that," Laxus mumbled.

"Now," Mira said, tossing an arm over her boyfriend's shoulders before continuing. "We're going to help Lisanna here decide if she should take Bickslow back."

"Mira-" Lisanna said, blushing. "I-"

"I vote no," Elfman said easily.

"Elf-"

"I told you, you need a man."

Laxus only shook his head. "If it'll get me out of here and you're all going to vote no, then fine, I vote no too."

"You cannot-"

"We can't decide her life for her," Evergreen told them both with a frown.

"Thank-"

"But," she went on, cutting off the youngest woman. "I think you're both cute together, so I vote yes."

"And if it gets me a chance to play with his babies," Mira said as Pappa cheered, "then I vote yes!"

"It's not a vote," Lisanna complained.

"How could you vote yes, Mira, to someone that called her names?" Elfman complained, frowning over at his older sister. "He ain't no man. Lisanna needs a real man! Someone to take care of her."

Snorting, Laxus said, "He just fucks around with chicks for awhile, gets bored with them, and then ditches them. Don't start feeling special over there, Lisanna."

"You're one to talk," Evergreen said, making a face at him. "You were the same way before Mira."

"That's a good point. Now you're a big softie," Mira giggled.

"I am the fuck not."

"Are too."

"Are not."

"Behave."

"Mira-"

"While we're on the subject," Elfman went on. "I vote for you to break up with Laxus."

"Excuse me?" Laxus, who had moved to pick up his beer, slammed it back down. "You wanna say that again, you freak?"

"You-"

"Stop it, Elfman." Evergreen made a face at him as Mira shifted in Laxus' lap so that she could grab his mouth, getting him to look at her.

"Behave," she told him harshly.

Lisanna was dismayed then as they broke out into a quarrel over something so silly, but Pappa distracted her from it. Suddenly, he jumped out of her hands and fluttered out of the room. Confused, she rushed after him, no one noticing as they were too busy arguing.

"Pappa," she called as he headed to the living room before over to the front door, which he promptly banged himself against. "What are you doing?"

Confused, she rushed to open the door. There was no one there, but it didn't stop Pappa from rushing away, right out the door. On the doorstep was another box of chocolates, but Lisanna stepped over those and she rushed to chase the doll down.

"Pappa," she called as he rushed away. "Come back here!"

Pappa was flying quickly through the air though, down her street before down another. Eventually though, he stopped, almost suddenly.

"Papa," he whined as he floated in the air, confused. He had no doubt been trying to track Bickslow, who must have dropped the gift off, but had lost him. "Papa."

When Lisanna was close enough, Pappa came back to her, dropping into her hands.

"You want your daddy, don't you?" she asked softly as the doll stilled in her hands. Then, letting out a slow breath, she continued walking. "Come, Pappa. Time to go home."

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#Bixanna #Miraxus #Elfever #Fairy Tail #Fanfiction #Bickslow #Lisanna #6 of 15

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goingforpicture · 7 years

Text

Location! Location! Location!

Picture it: Austin, 2016.

The setting is deep in the “backyard” of a ranch location out in the motherfucking nowhere land of the hill country. It’s about as Texas as you can imagine. Prickly plants. Cows. Confederate flags. Dudes with guns. Dirt roads. Bad cell reception. Terrible studded designer jeans bought at the dollar store. This “backyard” is a 20 minute van drive from basecamp, which is at the main house next door. Walkies barely reach. Cellphones are in and out. The quickest way through was in a land rover through a very dangerous path through the woods.

The set itself is a beautiful dreamy little pond buried in clay cliffs decorated with cedar trees. The sun creates a golden glow at certain points in the day. Perfect for the camera. The rest of us, however...

At first, no bathrooms except back at basecamp (20 minutes from set) (they later got portas delievered).Food on the set, like crafty, was difficult because the fields near the pond were infested with bees. Like, actually infested. Not an understatement. Figuring out where to eat lunch everyday was a misery. If an emergency happened, we were in the middle of nowhere. Basecamp could barely hear us and there were only two vans making trips so if you didn’t get on the van, it could be 40 minutes until you’re back on set. Not only that, the neighbors were weird about the road the worktrucks were parked on and one guy got in our faces with a video camera threatening us.

As a result, this beautiful set cost us a LOT of shots. Like a LOT.

One more example. Dallas, 2016. The set is in a beautiful floor to ceiling plate glass 6th floor high rise, overpriced apartment in uptown. Full cinematic views of downtown Dallas. Tenants of the building did not want us there. The building restricted our abilities to get equipment in quickly by eliminating the elevators we could use and the entrances we could use. Loading was too steep for the trucks so they had to park in an alley nearby. We had constant supervision and constant complaints, including yet another guy threatening us (this time physically). We couldn’t talk normally in the halls, we couldn’t park near the building, and we had to lay down layout board on carpets designed for high density traffic and heavy loads. Again lost a lot of time and shots didn’t work.

When we plan production, we spend a lot of time on blocking and the script and what camera to use and lighting and casting. We discuss costume design and what crew to bring in. But we often skip one of the most important parts of the filmmaking process: seriously weighing the pros and cons of our locations. On indie films, our budgets are limited and we try to have producers or directors do the jobs of production managers and location managers. This is not good. Directors & producers should not be in charge of locations.

ONCE MORE FOR THE KIDS IN THE BACK:

DIRECTORS & PRODUCERS SHOULD NOT BE IN CHARGE OF LOCATIONS.

I don’t care if the budget is tight. Bad locations management cost indie films thousands more than if they had just designated someone to do the job of locations manager. Locations aren’t just cool places to film your project, they have to accommodate the entire production. This means parking for cast, crew, & work trucks, power (or a place for the generators), running water, working bathrooms (or a place for honeywagons or portas), changing areas & actor holding areas (or a place for trailers), a production office, space for catering, space for DIT, space for crafty, staging areas for equipment, extras holding if there’s extras involved, signs to show where everything is so crews don’t get lost/confused/wander into no-access rooms, etc. That’s all that needs to happen to justify having the actual set at the location. That’s a lot of shit to handle.

And this isn’t just in pre-production, locations need to be maintained throughout the shoot and even during wrap out. They need to be cleaned (and something has to happen with the trash), they need to be prepped like putting down mats and layout board, they need paperwork and permits signed, the neighbors need to be warned of anything weird happening at what times. Filming on a street at the location? You need to make sure there’s a street permit, that the cops are aware (and show up to redirect traffic during filming). What about that neighbor with the lawnmower during takes? What about that car in the driveway in the background of the shot that now looks like it’s pulling out and ruining continuity? Who’s going to talk to the guy next door about keeping his porch lights on for the night exterior?

These are all things we don’t think about in pre-production as directors and producers. The grown-ups have their hands full with casting and equipment rentals and crewing. If they’ve got a location, they’re not worrying about the daily minutia. Nor are they thinking about permits and contracts and warning the neighbors. No, these things are all under the title of the Location Manager and may whatever god you’re into help you if you don’t have one.

LOCATION MANAGERS ARE THE BACKBONE OF PRODUCTION. As an AD, it’s incredibly hard for me to do my job properly without a locations person doing theirs. Location issues and poor management cost productions lots of time and money, no matter how big or small the production is, and if I have to stop what I’m doing on set to figure out a solution to a location problem, we’re losing shots, which makes no one happy.

What the hell does a location manager actually do?

Fuck, what don’t they do? A lot of their job is undercover ninja style work. A vast majority of it comes from proper pre-production where they attend the location scouts and address the pros and cons of locations while still in the decision phase. A good locations person has no problem telling a director or producer that a place won’t work if it won’t work. If a location is agreed upon, the manager makes sure the proper paperwork like contracts with the owner and permits for parking, street closure, etc. are signed and filed. They also will notify the neighboring areas about filming so businesses and neighbors aren’t surprised and can plan accordingly. When locations are “locked”, managers then make sure each of these locations can accommodate the production by planning basecamps, parking, bathrooms, catering, and other areas at the location.

During production, the manager will utilize either their own location PAs or the set PAs to help with daily management of the location such as trash sweeps, setting up tents when needed, putting down layout board, wrangling the neighbors, landing worktrucks, putting up signage, etc.

What makes a location a bad location?

Bad locations manifest themselves in different ways and have different levels of bad from a mild inconvenience to a total clusterfuck. Sometimes we deal with the mild inconveniences of a location if that location really works for the set. But there are some things that really rank a location in the clusterfuck territory:

No interior infrastructure accessible. Say you’re filming in a field out in the country. There’s no power. There’s no bathrooms. There’s no shade. Now say your budget does not have the room for a generator, gas for that genny, trailers, or a honeywagon. Now also say there’s no neighbors that will let you use their building nearby for those things. If you’re spending more than an hour at this field and have more than 5 people on your crew, don’t film there. Find another field.

Near construction, an airport, seaport, active music venues, or just anywhere uncontrollably noisy. Unless you have the budget for, and plan to, ADR... OR... your project is MOS. Don’t do this. There’s only so many sound blankets you can put up to muffle the sound of a jet engine.

Live businesses and public spaces. Your ADs will try to schedule scenes that need to film at these locations during dead times, like when the store is closed, or when the park is the least populated. A location manager will budget out a way to “own” the space during filming, such as having police to lock down a public area with signage and barricades, or buying out the store for a certain amount of hours so that’s it’s closed. If you don’t have this budget, you’re gonna have a bad time. Trying to film in a business when the business is open means sound is fucked, lockups are fucked, and a whole lot of annoyed customers around your equipment. And actually, this can be more expensive than just buying out the hours, especially when the shoot gets shut down because the owner is complaining that you’re disrupting business too much.

Lack of accessible worktruck parking. Dirt roads are only good on camera. Using them to get equipment to set is harsh and even worse if the location has any sort of weight limit bridges or low clearance crossings. Worktrucks/production vehicles can’t park around the corner for loading and unloading, they need to be at the set. If you can’t do that, you’re going to lose a lot of time with load-in and wrap.

No adjacent working bathrooms. It is a requirement that a work site has a working bathroom. This is a law whether the show is union or not. Portas are acceptable but the location needs to have a space for them so they can be delivered easily and they need to be cleaned and dumped if you are filming at the location for a long period of time. No bathrooms or space for honeywagon or portas? No shoot.

Any locations with a lot of restrictions that essentially makes the production unable to operate. Look, if you’re finding yourself fighting the location just to bring essential equipment and crew in, or if the restrictions on the location are so much that you’re hemorrhaging time, the location is not fucking worth it.

But I still want to shoot in the Grand Canyon anyway!

Cool. No one’s stopping you. Except for permits, money, and accessible roadways. Look, productions film in “bad” locations all the time, but the bigger productions have the time and money to handle the problems of locations like these. If you can get your hands on a permit to film in an iconic but problematic location, that’s wonderful. But your work is not done. Now you need to figure out a game plan for production. It’s an even bigger case to hire a location manager who can help you make sure the shoot happens properly and safely.

The director or producer locked in a very bad location. What do we do?

Happens more than you think. Directors and producers get their hearts set on a certain location for whatever reason and won’t let go. Some have locked in locations before the rest of the production staff have even been hired. There’s ways to deal with problematic locations that don’t screw over your shooting days. Think about going to a smaller crew at these locations. Pairing down to only essential crew if necessary. Script rewrites so that big scenes don’t happen in these locations. If that doesn’t work, lots of meetings and location scouts with department heads to come up with a good game plan for the location. Deal with the problematic locations first. Give yourself the time to come up with solid plans for them. Don’t wait until the night of the shoot to discuss where basecamp is going. Hit that shit in pre-pro.

I could keep going on and on about the importance of a location manager and a good location department. I could do posts just about the importance of budgeting location PAs and what they do separately from set PAs, but experience really can spell that all out for you. Plus, this isn’t a locations blog.

What we really need to understand that when dealing with locations and people who own these properties, they don’t understand film production. They don’t understand what it means when you say you’re just gonna have a few vehicles, or it’s just a couple scenes. Films need equipment and accessible accommodations to work properly and most of us aren’t that great at talking to non-film folks about what a shoot actually looks like. If I had a dollar for every time an owner got upset at the sheer amount of bullshit we bring to a location on every given day, I’d be on a beach right now paying someone to inject me with margaritas. For real. We’re terrible at talking to civilians and this is honestly your location manager’s number one job: they know how to talk to the public without being completely terrifying, overwhelming, condescending, or fake. They know exactly how to lay down the truth and get the owner to sign the dotted line. And if they can’t do that, they know how to tell you to move onto another location.

Next time you’re budgeting for a production, make sure you, at the very fucking least, throw a line item in there for a dedicated location manager. You’ll be glad you did.

#indie film #film production #locations #location manager #assistant director #advice #film crew #location scouting #filmmaking

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