My mother came over for the weekend, and yesterday, as we were chillin' on the couch together playing a game, she told me "by the way, it's 4:20" as in "in case you want to start getting ready for work", and I impulsively burst out snickering, like an adult.
I think I’ve found new ambition in life in my current job as a night shift security guard, and specifically that ambition is “one of these days I’m going to bring a Michael Myers mask with me to work and put it on during break time so I can step out of the bushes at one of the other guys on shift”.
Skipper Resident Evil 7 one-shot; vignette
Fanfic. A much-younger Lucas and Zoe go on a li'l swamp day trip.
The water, the trees from sludgy bark to hanging, shimmering leaves; the light reflected off of them.
Everything but the pale blue of the wet, glassy eyes of the two kids in the boat.
The motor of it chugged and hummed in the back. The intermittent sputter kicked up water.
Lucas stood at the boat's nose, hauling through the water with a stick, while Zoe sat. A hand brought up to her mouth.
She blinked at him once. Cocked her head. Looked between him and the motor as he hitched a grunt on up into a whine.
"Hnnn - ah...!" He turned back to her. Grinning with big, parted white teeth. He flicked sweat and water droplets outta his hair - stringy bangs hung like moss. "Nahhh - 'ss not that far, I don't think...!" he all-but-laughed. He had a voice like a birdcall. "We'll get to Uncle's house, we're gonna play for two hours?" Another gasp and grunt as he doubled into another haul of the stick. Tossed his grinning up a storm back at her. " - and then we get back, and we tell Mom and Dad we were just doing what we always do. Just lookin' for fish."
"They're gonna see the boat's gone," Zoe said quietly.
"They're gonna know it was you."
She held her look up to him blank. Mouth a little line behind her fingers. Eyes round. Wide. Please play attention.
...And then a tiny, tiny pull to a knit.
Effort to look stern.
It worked. The corners of his mouth started to sag, on into the same darn look that he gives Daddy on those tellings-off. She's made an effort to learn this; she takes this frown as a good thing. A little low warm burn of pride picks up in her chest. Just like Daddy.
"And he's gonna smack you," she said. "He's gonna smack you a whole lot."
This was the wrong move.
Lucas narrowed his eyes, puffing up a little in the shoulders, and Zoe let a dry wind begin to blow the head off that internal burn. Lucas didn't listen to anything when he got mad. Mind you, she wasn't expecting him to listen anyway. Not really-really. Not change his mind.
Just be careful, maybe. In some nebulous way, turn this from "trouble" to "something fine".
He was gonna want to get in trouble, now.
"Uncle's not gonna let him," he said, with a little toss of his head. He didn't believe that; Uncle was gonna stay down in his shack when they went home. There weren't nothing he could do. Lucas, however, didn't care.
Zoe gave him kitten eyes. She could look stern at him, and it'd work - reminding him that she knew stuff. Trying to make him sorry never did a thing. She was doing this for her own sake, as he turned on back to the front of the boat with one last stink-eye passed off as an are you stupid, or something? Another growl as he shoved the stick.
"Why're you usin' a stick when we got a motor?" She cocked her head again.
He turned back at her with another flick. His eyes re-popped wide. "Uhn?"
"The motor makes the boat go." A half-turn back and a little wave where water kicked and splashed. "You don't gotta row it."
He squinted again. A twist-open of his lip on the side of a head-cocking.
Once again, are you some kind of an idiot?
His chin jerked up, once. "Nah. Nah, nah, nah, look at the motor." He lifted and indiscriminately waved a finger.
He stammered into a shrill repetition. She looked.
"You see the way it's turning? Around?"
She turned back to him. Stuck the side of her finger back against her mouth. His had begun a turn in the air. Like he was winding a shock of hair.
"That's the way it pushes the water. It pushes the water back so we can go forward. It don't go side-to-side. I'm steering."
"You really gotta steer that much?"
"Oh, my god, could you just - ?"
"I'm just curious, is all," she lied, rocking side to side on her hands. "Is it all the roots or something? The stuff you gotta steer around."
"Uhhh...!" He twisted to face forward again. One more deep, bending haul of the stick. Squinting into the swamp as if trying to identify the source of a smell. "...Gators, I guess?"
"You're not gonna just bump into one out of nowhere."
He swooped and chuffed into a "whoa - !" and a curve into a wild-eyed smile. "Nn, you never know, you know?" Threw that smile right on back her way. A sharp tilt. "Lots and lots of gators out here - Uncle sees one, like... ha ha, every day...!" One more hum of a grunt. " - Nnnh, he says they sneak up on you...!"
He did, in fact, want trouble.
She had failed to make him not-want trouble, and he was now past the point of reasoning with.
She tucked her knees up to her chest. Squeezed them and rocks. Giving him a hard, hard glare.
To get the last word in, in a sense. For its own sake.
Meanwhile, he continued to row. Pardon, steer. Eyes re-brightened, holding a silent laugh as he scanned out over the water.
There was no telling if he even really did have any clue where they were going. He'd stolen the boat once before. Didn't get that far. Not because anyone had stopped him. She hadn't bothered, because she knew then, too, indeed, that he wouldn't get very far.
But because the motor broke. Another one that he made.
And this one, she noticed, was doing it again.
She slowed her rock to a still as its chugging and sputtering turned metallic. The boat slowed its roll right in kind.
"Oh, what the hell," he whined.
"We're gonna get stuck," she said, soft. In a trickle.
"Nah-ah, nah-ah, that's what we got the stick for." He heaves with a stab of the stick into unseen mud, growling and wincing through his teeth. Sucked in a breath. "Now I'm - freakin' rowing!"
"This is a bad idea, Lucas."
"No, it ain't!" He shook his head like a dog shakes out its fur. "I can fix it up when we get to Uncle's. It's fine."
"You gonna row the whole way back if you can't?"
"Yeah?!" He shrugged with his whole free arm. "What're we supposed to do?"
He let that hang for a moment. Darts of pupils, half-focused, between her and the floor of the boat behind him. A wide cast out to the horizon before - a grimace.
A lean into rowing harder. Skinny body levering and twisting. She asks him if they can get her a stick, too, and he barks a no and keeps rowing on.
She didn't know if it's been five minutes before he huffed and gave his brow one long, sticky wipe, and plopped down seated onto the bench across from her. Tucked-in pose mirrored and chin resting on his knees.
Zoe didn't do a thing but watch. Right there. No words, just let him rest, up until he pinched a look on her like she was a bug.
"I could take a turn," she said.
"Nuh-uh." Through thin-puffing air. Eyelids lowering and shutting. "Nuh-uh, you're way too small. You can't row."
"You could lemme try."
"No way." With a jab of his head in. Eyes snapped open again, a turn of his head to indicate around her. "That was my motor. This's my trip, this was my idea, I get to steer and you get to not tip the boat."
"Why'd I have to come?" She frowned hard.
"Why I let you ever come along for anything, Zoe?" He met that with a pout. Eyes unfocusing on her as he picked up an absent rock, tucking his mouth down behind his knees. "It would have been boring rowing the whole way to Uncle's with no one to talk to."
"But you don't like it when I talk."
"Why'd you think that?!" There was a scrunch in his brow and a twist in his nose.
He genuinely did not understand.
This happened a lot.
A helpless marsh-bitter black feeling began to stretch and drip down from Zoe's ribs like goo from stalactites.
"You just been getting mad at me this whole time," she said. Turned the dial up a couple of notches, let her head sink lower between her shoulders, slipping her arms further down on her legs. "You're always gettin' mad at me."
"That's just when you have to go be a stupid nag. I like it when you talk!" The little pin-pulls of a smile for show. The light flash of teeth in gray shadow. "I love it a lot when you're not trying to pretend you're Mama!" He cut himself off with a grunt - pushed himself up off one knee. Held a finger in the air, gave it a quick side-to-side waggle. "I know what I'm doing! I always do - if I don't know what I'm doing, I don't do it. I'm smart, remember?"
"So how far away's Uncle's shack?"
"Ehhhhh, I dunno." He picked the stick back up without so much as a shrug. Leaned forward into another stab in the mud. The boat sloshed back into motion. He giggled. "I'm not a freaking map. Can't be too much further, though! We were goin' fast with the motor, we're goin' the way we do when we go in the car!"
He assured her that he likes it when she talks, and to this, she decided to say nothing.
Not out of fear, but out of spite.
To pretend she's Mom and Dad was no tiny part of why she'd agreed to come. To be a collar, basically. She didn't even know if she liked Uncle. She wasn't sure even Dad did't. He was all loud, and intense, and wild. Stuff Dad, she figured, didn't trust - and so she followed suit.
All of this, incidentally, was part of why Lucas did, in fact, like Uncle.
And so she continued to sit put and look at him moodily as the bright green around 'em set to dripping and darkening blue, and he keeps on rowing.
Like not a thing on earth is wrong. She doesn't even know if he's noticed that it's dark.
When she broached it, it was with "where are we gonna sleep?"
It was a little mumble, but it jolted him. He snapped to twist to face her with a look as if she'd stabbed him in the back with a needle.
"Uhhh, Uncle's, if we gotta? Where did you think we was gonna sleep?"
"Home?" She let that twist. Tone and frown. She was tired - it was dropping into giving herself another allowance.
The reaction she expected right down to the letter.
"I don't wanna sleep in the boat."
"We're not gonna sleep in the boat. We're going to Uncle's house!"
"You said it wasn't far away."
"It's not. There's no way ain't not gonna see it soon."
"It's getting real dark to see."
"Stop being such a freaking baby, Zoe, and let me keep rowing."
"I'm not being a baby." Raising her volume. Deliberately. Eyes widening with an urgent insistence. "I'm getting scared."
He scoffed. There his eyes went wide again. "Mmm, scared of what?"
"Us getting lost?"
"You're scared we're gonna get eaten by alligators?"
"You said there's a lot of them out here."
He laughed. Openly and gleefully. Her own widening of eyes fell at once into a press and a flatline. Once again, her attempt at reasoning had failed.
"That's 'cause there is! Good thing if any try to get us, then Uncle can fight 'em off!"
A change in tactics necessitated.
"You ever seen him fight one?" She rounded her eyes and pitched her voice to keening. It wasn't meant to be doubt.
He laughed again - and he snorted. "Ohh, yeah, yeah! The last time we went down there, there was a smaller one that came up while we were catching fish?" His grin split like a jack-o-lantern. "I said I wanted to see it so he baited it a little bit - then he fought it off with a gaff!"
"Did he kill it?"
"Nahhhhhh. I said I wanted him to, so I could keep it or something, but he said he didn't wanna mess with it too much."
"Nah, nah - he's got lots and lots of stories about the swamp!" He wheezed one laugh between his teeth. "You wanna hear 'em too then you're gonna need to hang out with him more when we get there. Not till after he shows me how to make a bomb, though, 'cause he promised!"
"Sure you don't wanna share?"
"You getting tired or something and asking for a bedtime story 'cause Mama's not here?"
"'Cause you know we could stop, right?" His smile still held toothy.
"Maybe you're getting tired."
"What're you talking about? I always stay up all night. You know that."
"Yeah, but not rowing boats and stuff."
"I thought you said you didn't wanna sleep in the boat."
"I just asked if you could tell me one of Uncle's stories." She hardened her browline. One more stern jab. "Are you gonna do that or not?"
A sneezy sound. "What're you gonna do if I do?"
She paused. Licked her lip, considering, weighing and picking a bargaining point. "I'm gonna not tell Mom and Dad you stole me to live with you at Uncle's house instead."
She smiled - it felt clever - and he, meanwhile, scoffed. Let out a "wow" in a yowly curve like a sick cat.
Still smiling. Hitting his eyes with everything.
And she stuck to smiling, too. Loosened a little. Prepped herself for what's coming.
And there an inarticulate expectation came fulfilled.
"So here's one!" he said. "This one, Uncle told me happened in winter, like, ten years ago or something, on one of the really really bad rainy nights!" A cackle and indistinct motion of his hand - a shadow puppet's beak opening and shutting. "But-but, um, I warn ya, Zo - he told me this one when I asked for a scary story. And it's a real freaky one..."
Alas, I think the first words I have uttered on this day, my birthday, have been “ah, ow. Shit! My back”.
Also, Happy Birthday to Myself.
the only discourse i want to see on this site is the about the best way to cook eggs
It is clearly scrambled with cheese.
soft boiled! 7 minutes!
Hard boiled!! Eat with soysauce!! What are you all doing???
soy sauce?? wtf?? i say scrambled with lots of cheese and black pepper
Omelet!!! or a simple tortilla made of eggs, but with a good thickness
y'all sleeping on eggs in a basket
obviously you eat it any way its served like a good trashcan
I'm hoity-toity; I think the most fun way to cook eggs is poaching and that all the best ways of cooking eggs begin with whipping them.
Egg-based gelato, meringue tiramisu, macarons...
WHOOH, I crashed before I could get these up last night - but the first of a couple of drawings I whipped up as a small surprise for Pan, who loves BNHA and especially Kyoka Jiro (and pff, god, alas, on this one, it probably shows that I essentially never draw chibi-ish things these days)...
Commemorating the first Killer release I've been there for as a relatively newly-minted Dead By Daylight fan!
This also may have been a bit inspired by the @maybe-manticore's recent slasher film art!
My entry for the monthly Monster Prom art challenge - the theme for May is fashion! Thus, I drew Damien dressed to appropriately raise hell - the little bit of ruffly fringe on the coat and the chest-baring are meant to be nods to his more outright flamboyantly fashionable side.