I found a half-used disposable camera from 2006 in my closet and got it developed. Big appreciation to past me, living her best teenage life, for taking this picture.
[Image description: a grainy, green-cast photo of a fire engine cab, a firefighter’s arm half slung out the window. The truck door says “Maple Ridge V.F.D.” end image description.]
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hi all. i am here! things have been crazy the past week or so, but plan to be here throughout the day! feel free to like this for a starter, while i work on everything i owe! :)
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Happy Halloween!!! The untamed pretty please?
a continuation of 1 2 3
Nie Huaisang at ten isn't that jarring, even considering the adult version he left behind, because he's pretty much exactly as Jiang Cheng remembers him.
Seeing Nie Mingjue at thirteen as a sullen child instead of the looming specter of his memories takes some adjusting.
Nie Haoyu wouldn't take no for an answer and it hadn't helped that A-Ying had been thrilled at the invitation and immediately started peppering the Nies with question that they'd answered in good humor the whole way back. Nie Haoyu seems delighted with A-Ying, finding him amusing and impressive and complimenting Jiang Cheng several times on raising such an impressive son.
He just glares back but Nie Haoyu's good humor is unaffected. His memory of the clan leader is spotty at best and he's coming to the slow and horrifying realization that it was Nie Huaisang and not Nie Mingjue that got his personality from their father.
Joining a clan is probably good for them, long term, and the Nies are the only other tolerable major clan, not that he'd ever expected to get practically kidnapped by them.
The only problem is that Nie Haoyu is going to be dead in two years time and if he wants A-Ying and the Nie siblings to have some semblance of a normal childhood, he's going to have to. Do something about that.
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he's never gonna give you up never gonna let you down never gonna let you down never gonna run around and desert you never gonna make you cry never gonna say goodbye never gonna tell a lie and hurt you~
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Imagine being mc, and you're just chilling in your kitchen cause you live alone. You're in your i-woke-up-to-be-here fit, glasses off and retainers out, hair out of the way messily yet conveniently. And you're just standing in the middle of your kitchen, small pot in your left hand and a wood spoon in your right.
Eating some pasta quietly with the same utensils you used to make the pasta so you didn't have to wash more dishes by putting it in a bowl and getting a fork. Then suddenly you're teleported somewhere that isn't your bland apartment kitchen with buzzing white lights above you. It takes you a minute to realise that anything has happened, shoveling your tasty homemade pasta into your mouth with a wooden spoon.
You look up, making eye contact with some dude with his arms crossed, his hair short and black, and standing about half a foot taller than you. At least that was what you could make out through blurry vision. Pasta strands hanging from your mouth, you eat them quickly while staring directly at this man whom you find conventionally attractive despite just meeting him, if you would even call this a meeting.
Your voice somewhat hoarse from not talking for about two and a half days and from eating off of a wooden spoon, you speak in a tone that is almost sarcastic, yet is questioning. You sound neutral, being caught like a deer in headlights in your most nobody's-gonna-see-me state.
"Who the fuck're you?" You'd say, blinking a few times and having to force your eyes to adjust to the shift in lighting that you had only now noticed, and your voice slightly muffled from the pasta sauce stuck to the roof of your mouth. Your organs rolling like a rotisserie chicken in confusion, almost making your stomach hurt.
You settle your right hand, loosely placing the wooden spoon into the pot, it being about half full of hot-n-ready pasta. Your left wrist feels sore from holding up the pot, but in your delayed confusion you barely feel it, doing mental gymnastics in order to figure out where the fuck you had ended up.
You just wanted some pasta. Now where were you?
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[id: two hannukah themed sketches featuring the main trio from danny phantom.
in the first, the camera is outside a window, looking into a cozy living room with the fireplace roaring. several menorahs lay on the windowsill. closer to the viewer, tucker holds a shamash and waves his hand erratically; sam laughs at him. an arrow declares that he's "on fire". further down the windowsill, danny floats in phantom form, lighting his menorah with ectoplasmic fire.
in the second, sam and danny sit on the floor, playing dreidel. tucker sits in a chair, watching them, eating a sufganiyah. there's a large pile of gelt in the pot, while sam and danny only have a couple pieces. a plate of sufganiyot and latkes sits next to danny. sam grins, ג (gimel) announcing her as the winner. danny looks at her, deadpan. end id]
happy hannukah!
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