#i also remember for a fact that he had the onion on his computer when i was a kid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nasa · 4 years

Photo

NASA Spotlight: Astronaut Mike Hopkins

Michael S. Hopkins was selected by NASA as an astronaut in 2009. The Missouri native is currently the Crew-1 mission commander for NASA’s next SpaceX launch to the International Space Station on Nov. 14, 2020. Hopkin’s Crew-1 mission will mark the first-ever crew rotation flight of a U.S. commercial spacecraft with astronauts on board, and it secures the U.S.’s ability to launch humans into space from American soil once again. Previously, Hopkins was member of the Expedition 37/38 crew and has logged 166 days in space. During his stay aboard the station, he conducted two spacewalks totaling 12 hours and 58 minutes to change out a degraded pump module. He holds a Bachelor of Science in Aerospace Engineering from the University of Illinois and a Master of Science in Aerospace Engineering.

He took some time from being a NASA astronaut to answer questions about his life and career! Enjoy:

What do you hope people think about when you launch?

I hope people are thinking about the fact that we’re starting a new era in human spaceflight. We’re re-opening human launch capability to U.S. soil again, but it’s not just that. We’re opening low-Earth orbit and the International Space Station with commercial companies. It’s a lot different than what we’ve done in the past. I hope people realize this isn’t just another launch – this is something a lot bigger. Hopefully it’s setting the stage, one of those first steps to getting us to the Moon and on to Mars.

You served in the U.S. Air Force as a flight test engineer. What does that entail?

First off, just like being an astronaut, it involves a lot of training when you first get started. I went to the U.S. Air Force Test Pilot School and spent a year in training and just learning how to be a flight test engineer. It was one of the most challenging years I’ve ever had, but also one of the more rewarding years. What it means afterwards is, you are basically testing new vehicles or new systems that are going on aircraft. You are testing them before they get handed over to the operational fleet and squadrons. You want to make sure that these capabilities are safe, and that they meet requirements. As a flight test engineer, I would help design the test. I would then get the opportunity to go and fly and execute the test and collect the data, then do the analysis, then write the final reports and give those conclusions on whether this particular vehicle or system was ready to go.

What is one piece of life advice you wish somebody had told you when you were younger?

A common theme for me is to just have patience. Enjoy the ride along the way. I think I tend to be pretty high intensity on things and looking back, I think things happen when they’re supposed to happen, and sometimes that doesn’t necessarily agree with when you think it should happen. So for me, someone saying, “Just be patient Mike, it’s all going to happen when it’s supposed to,” would be really good advice.

Is there a particular science experiment you enjoyed working on the most while aboard the space station?

There’s a lot of experiments I had the opportunity to participate in, but the ones in particular I liked were ones where I got to interact directly with the folks that designed the experiment. One thing I enjoyed was a fluid experiment called Capillary Flow Experiment, or CFE. I got to work directly with the principal investigators on the ground as I executed that experiment. What made it nice was getting to hear their excitement as you were letting them know what was happening in real time and getting to hear their voices as they got excited about the results. It’s just a lot of fun.

Space is a risky business. Why do it?

I think most of us when we think about whatever it is we do, we don’t think of it in those terms. Space is risky, yes, but there’s a lot of other risky jobs out there. Whether it’s in the military, farming, jobs that involve heavy machinery or dangerous equipment… there’s all kinds of jobs that entail risk. Why do it? You do it because it appeals to you. You do it because it’s what gets you excited. It just feels right. We all have to go through a point in our lives where we figure out what we want to do and what we want to be. Sometimes we have to make decisions based on factors that maybe wouldn’t lead you down that choice if you had everything that you wanted, but in this particular case for me, it’s exactly where I want to be. From a risk standpoint, I don’t think of it in those terms.

Can you describe your crew mate Soichi Noguchi in one sentence?

There are many facets to Soichi Noguchi. I’m thinking about the movie Shrek. He has many layers! He’s very talented. He’s very well-thought. He’s very funny. He’s very caring. He’s very sensitive to other people’s needs and desires. He’s a dedicated family man. I could go on and on and on… so maybe like an onion – full of layers!

Star Trek or Star Wars?

I love them both. But can I say Firefly? There’s a TV series out there called Firefly. It lasted one season – kind of a space cowboy-type show. They did have a movie, Serenity, that was made as well. But anyway, I love both Star Wars and Star Trek. We’ve really enjoyed The Mandalorian. I mean who doesn’t love Baby Yoda right? It’s all fun.

How many times did you apply to be an astronaut? Did you learn anything on your last attempt?

I tried four times over the course of 13 years. My first three attempts, I didn’t even have references checked or interviews or anything. Remember what we talked about earlier, about patience? For my fourth attempt, the fact is, it happened when it was supposed to happen. I didn’t realize it at the time. I would have loved to have been picked on my first attempt like anybody would think, but at the same time, because I didn’t get picked right away, my family had some amazing experiences throughout my Air Force career. That includes living in Canada, living overseas in Italy, and having an opportunity to work at the Pentagon. All of those helped shape me and grow my experience in ways that I think helped me be a better astronaut.

Can you share your favorite photo or video that you took in space?

One of my favorite pictures was a picture inside the station at night when all of the lights were out. You can see the glow of all of the little LEDs and computers and things that stay on even when you turn off the overhead lights. You see this glow on station. It’s really one of my favorite times because the picture doesn’t capture it all. I wish you could hear it as well. I like to think of the station in some sense as being alive. It’s at that time of night when everybody else is in their crew quarters in bed and the lights are out that you feel it. You feel the rhythm, you feel the heartbeat of the station, you see it in the glow of those lights – that heartbeat is what’s keeping you alive while you’re up there. That picture goes a small way of trying to capture that, but I think it’s a special time from up there.

What personal items did you decide to pack for launch and why?

My wedding bands. I’m also taking up pilot wings for my son. He wants to be a pilot so if he succeeds with that, I’ll be able to give him his pilot wings. Last time, I took one of the Purple Hearts of a very close friend. He was a Marine in World War II who earned it after his service in the Pacific.

youtube

Thank you for your time, Mike, and good luck on your historic mission! Get to know a bit more about Mike and his Crew-1 crew mates Victor Glover, Soichi Noguchi, and Shannon Walker in the video above.

Watch LIVE launch coverage beginning at 3:30 p.m. EST on Nov. 14 HERE.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space: http://nasa.tumblr.com

#launchamerica #nasa #spacex #crew1 #astronaut #rocket launch #space #science #STEM #Air Force #us military #hope #resilience #Spotlight

8K notes · View notes

peppersonironi · 3 years

Text

Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype Chapter Three

Wooo! Chapter Two (not including the prologue) is up now for my @dukethomasbigbang fic! Today's art is by @a-sketchy-character and you can find the glorious piece HERE

thx again to my betas @queerbutstillhere & @theycallme-ook

Today has a special thanks to @batgirls-appreciation who dropped out as a beta, but this chapter couldn't exist without her!

Summary:

Duke pursed his lips, not quite sure why Cass had come down to the basement, only to look into his soul, shrug, and leave. But that didn’t matter right now. As Bruce would say, “The mission comes first.”

Read on Ao3

Duke frowned down at his empty pad of paper, trying to brainstorm. It had been a mere twelve hours since the failed Rick Roll (though, the Rick Roll itself wasn’t a fail. Duke would be daydreaming about the chaos for years to come), and the day shift bat was itching for a way to make up for it.

Alas, the creative juices were not flowing that day. Duke had tried everything - taking a walk, training, meditation, writer’s sprint, and even resorting to watching prank compilations on YouTube. But nothing worked. So, he found himself watching the target Bat - Bruce - in his “natural habitat.”

Also known as the living room, mid lecture.

“But I don’t know what I did!” Tim pleaded desperately, trying to convey to Bruce his confusion.

Bruce shook his head. “No, you do, Tim. Dick told me you all will appeal to my affection to get out of the consequences for your actions -” wow, Duke remembered Dick using that exact tactic just yesterday, and it worked - “So I will not allow you to shirk the punishment.”

Tim groaned. “This is tyranny! I’m an emancipated minor, I don’t need to deal with this.”

“Actually, yes you do. You will be doing chores for Alfred for the next two weeks, and you aren’t allowed to run off to Mount Justice.”

“Then at least tell me what I did wrong!” Tim cried, throwing his hands up in the air. Bruce rubbed his temples, then glanced briefly at Duke.

“You know what you did, and how it affected those around you. And you’re grounded because of it. No room for arguments. Now go work on the sprinklers, Alfred has mentioned they’ve been finicky.”

Tim scoffed and stalked out, soon after followed by Bruce.

Duke considered relocating as well - he couldn’t very well observe Bruce if said wild furry wasn’t present. But something about that conversation that sent a light shiver up Duke’s spine, some small spark of inspiration.

An idea began to form in his mind, and Duke smiled slowly.

*****

“For all Bruce’s waxing poetic on the merits of high tech stuff, this pipe organization is seriously ancient,” Duke muttered under his breath as he glanced from the blueprints he had secured to the mess of pipes and spigots and nozzles in front of him.

Though to be fair, this wasn’t the Batcave. Duke was in the basement of Wayne Manor - yes, he was just as surprised to find they actually had one of those that wasn’t dedicated to the dark and mystique training of Gotham’s Protectors. And impromptu Mario Kart challenges, because as Tim had once told Duke “We all know that’s the real reason Bruce got a giant computer setup.”

Duke cursed softly under his breath when he dropped a wrench that began to clang around in the messy cage of metal. He set the blueprints aside atop the gallons of paint he had chosen, and reached around and down to get the wrench. When he came back up, he found himself face to face with his sister Cassandra.

Oh shit, Duke thought, as he tried to figure out how to cover for what he was doing in the plumbing of the Manor.

Cass squinted at him and, not for the first time, Duke felt like he was an onion trapped beneath her gaze, slowly being peeled back layer by layer till the young woman before him knew every little detail about him. Every thought or plan he ever had.

Duke began to sweat, unable to keep his panic under wraps. Cass was scarier than Bruce, that was just a fact.

Cass tilted her head a fraction of an inch, and Duke thought he was a dead man. But, much to his relief and confusion, Cass shrugged and turned. She walked lightheartedly out of the basement and to the stairs, whistling tunelessly as she went.

Duke pursed his lips, not quite sure why Cass had come down to the basement, only to look into his soul, shrug, and leave.

But that didn’t matter right now. As Bruce would say, “The mission comes first.”

*****

As all members of the Wayne family knew, the Library was one of the best places, period. Aside from the living room which was always a mess of pillows, bean bags, inflatable dinosaurs, spare semi-automatic weaponry and knives, the Library was the most personal room in the expansive home that was the Manor. Sure, it was cleaner and home to fewer surprise nerf gun fights, but It still had an air of warmth about it. It was the place that they would go to to rest after a difficult patrol. Where you could find Jason reading some book in a corner, Tim busy with WE work at the large table, Damian trying to teach Alfred the Cat and Titus to read picture books, Cass and Steph trying to be subtle about making out (though to be fair that was only half the time, other times Cass was working on reading with Steph helpfully giving her guidance). Dick would always be trying to decide what to read and but he would never actually succeed, Bruce would sit in his tall armchair in the corner overlooking every small detail of his children with a not-quick-smile-but-pretty-darn-close on his face.

Duke himself also had his own spot that he would work on writing poetry, or just surf Tumblr. It was a window seat at the far side of the library which was technically big enough for three people, but Duke had a strict policy that it was his and his alone and no he totally wasn’t bullied by Cass that one time to snuggle. Why on Earth would you ever consider such a thing?

It was in this spot now that Duke was situated, though he was not alone. Titus - yes, Damian’s dog - was draped across his lap. Now, Duke didn’t mean to steal his little brother’s pets, but it just happened. Titus was in need of snuggles or belly rubs when Damian was away with Jon or on patrol at night, and Duke just happened to be the only one that said canine could bully into granting him.

Thankfully, like all bats were, Duke was a multi-tasker. He wasn’t put off by having to scratch a dog behind the ears whilst simultaneously checking the twelve blinking dots on his laptop screen that represented his family members.

Duke stared intensely at the diagram of the Manor as all the dots slowed down and finally stayed in their predetermined positions. Huh, Tim was right. Stalking family members did pay off!

The dots suddenly stopped blinking, and Duke snapped out of his self congratulations. It was go time . He switched windows, then quickly pulled out his phone and pressed a button.

There were several screams that echoed throughout the ancient halls, those screams spoke of terror and surprise, and passed along the message that something was very, very wrong in the world. The status quo had been broken, and there was no returning from this.

Duke smirked down at his computer, where a dozen different squares displayed camera footage of the real time happenings of the Manor. Said footage was showing several members of Duke’s family drenched in paint. The same paint that Duke had meticulously divided and poured into the ceiling sprinkling system that the Manor had for some totally-not-plot-related reason. The same paint which had been primed and ready to be sprayed out of the spigots coating each bat with the perfectly calculated, even layer.

The paint had just finished being deployed, and yet several people were for some reason trying to fight it off like it was an attacker. Duke noticed that the swinging of bo staffs, AK-47’s and katanas were altogether unsuccessful. Honestly, the people who were standing completely still in shock, or who were trying to shake off the paint were having much better luck.

But then everyone finally realised that they weren’t being sprayed anymore, and a collective sigh spread out across the Manor. The onslaught was done, and they could finally gather together and grab the pitchforks to hunt down the responsible party.

It was then that the glitter was deployed.

The chaos immediately multiplied tenfold, and the screams sounded up again. The air was filled with the sparkly dust that was way too thin to swat away. (No, Duke totally didn’t spend extra time researching to find the world’s finest glitter)

Duke was outright laughing at this point, so hard that he almost fell off the window seat. Titus barked suddenly, and Duke sobered enough to get back upright and watch the finishing up of the chaos. He had to admit, this felt wonderful. If he had to describe his current state of thrill in two words, he would have admitted that he felt altogether too close to the Hellmo Meme.

Unfortunately, Duke was not Stephanie, and ran out of glitter eventually. The vents stopped blasting the film of fairy dust, and the bats were given a reprieve.

Though the break was short lived, as just then, Bruce’s loud bellow sounded throughout the giant house.

“ALL OF YOU GET IN HERE!”

Duke chuckled as he scooched Titus over and set his laptop to the side so he could get up. This was all working perfectly! He’d arrive at Bruce's interrogation completely free from all paint or glitter, which would immediately prove his guilt. And if that didn’t work, then he supposed he could outright confess. But that wasn’t the point of this. The point was for Bruce to come to the conclusion on his own.

He walked down the hall, completely carefree. So happy and confident in his own abilities that he never even noticed that Cassandra’s paint or glitter didn’t go off. That she wasn’t even present where the tracker he had subtly placed on her earlier that day said she was.

*****

Duke hummed to himself as he skipped along the carpet, past the antique vases and random finger paintings, past the drawing rooms and bathrooms, and towards Bruce. All was quiet.

Though that began to trouble Duke, as he got closer to one of the rooms which was very special. It was where Cass had been situated, playing with Selina’s cat Isis, for the past hour. Now, Cassandra was quiet, sure. But not that quiet. And besides, wouldn’t the cat be screeching right about now? Cass didn’t seem like the person to give a nerve hit to an animal just because it was being loud ( cough Jason cough ).

He slowly entered the room and looked around, but was surprised to find it completely empty. Not just of girl and cat, but of paint and glitter too.

“You were mistaken.”

Duke whirled around to find Cass sitting in an armchair, wrapped in shadows, and stroking Isis in a manner not altogether different from that of an Evil Mastermind™.

“Uh…” Duke replied, “about what?”

Cass smirked, and Duke felt a shiver run up his spine. “Actions have consequences. ”

Duke frowned. Wait, what? He glanced around again, trying to figure out what Cass meant. On a surface level he understood, but there was something about the way Cass was eyeing him that told him something else was up.

The only thing he could find that was out of the ordinary, however, was the camera he had placed just yesterday. Huh, now that he thought about it, he was at just the right angle to see it. Which meant he was in direct view of the camera itself. Pretty darn to close to where he had been planning Cass would stand, actually.

Then a faint spitting noise came from above him.

Oh.

*****

Duke trudged forlornly into the room where the rest of the bats - except Cassandra, who had disappeared after the glitter had deployed onto Duke - had gathered. He was one of the last to arrive, muttering curses under his breath, so all eyes were on him as he opened the door and joined them.

Though that also meant that Duke could see them. He had to admit, that as disappointed as he was, it was still hard to keep a grin from spreading across his face. Boy, he had done a great job with color coordination, hadn’t he?

Bruce was front and center, covered in a dark gray paint which had the sheen of yellow glitter. Dick had black paint completely covering him (much more than Duke planned. Did Dick roll in the stuff?) along with blue glitter. Jason had both red paint and glitter on him. Tim had started off with a lighter colored paint - this time red - and then the look was finished by black glitter. Damian looked like a small Christmas tree in his green paint and red glitter. Harper had blue paint then covered in purple glitter, both of which were the exact shades of her hair. Duke wasn’t a monster ; he knew how to match colors.

The cousins - both honorary and actually - had also been present. Bette had been appropriately targeted with a flaming orange and gold combination. Kate had black paint and, instead of red, Duke had picked a rainbow glitter for her. From the slight glint in her eye, Duke supposed he had chosen correctly. Jean-Paul had been doused in yellow paint and red glitter, and he honestly looked like a very large and human shaped version of his sword. Luke was covered in silver paint and an electric blue glitter.

Bruce, however, didn’t give Duke a second glance, covered in yellow paint and black glitter (which had been meant for Cass, but honestly, it fit Duke quite well), though he was.

“Good, now we just have to wait for Steph,” Tim remarked, rolling his eyes.

Duke frowned. “What about Cass? She’s here too.”

Everyone gave Duke a weird look. “Uh, no she isn’t. She’s been hanging out with Selina and Babs all weekend.”

“Then your intel is wrong,” Duke countered. “She was just here! I planned on her being here!”

The silence in the room was palpable. Before, where there had been bickering and accusations, the quiet had taken over. Everyone stared at Duke with suspicion in their eyes.

Finally, Duke thought, sighing in relief.

Bruce opened his mouth about to question Duke’s statement when the doors to the room banged open.

“What’s up, Bitches? The Waffle Queen has arrived and looks as fabulous as ever!”

Duke stared, completely amazed that she actually seemed to like the purple on purple combo Duke had picked for her. Oh, yeah, now that he thought about it made perfect sense that Steph was the only one to like this.

“Wow, whoever did this really got my colors right!" Steph continued as she waltzed in and posed in front of everyone, her hip cocked and arm thrown up dramatically.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, and he began to growl at her. “This is not funny.”

Steph pouted. “What do you mean? I sure think it is!”

Oh boy, she didn’t notice she was digging her own grave, did she? From the looks of the other bats, they shared Duke’s sentiment.

“Stephanie Brown, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Stephanie smirked. “Yup! I look way better than you, you old fur- hey wait! Are you blaming me ?!”

Bruce glared even harder, and Stephanie started to protest, claiming that she was but an innocent victim of these pain-filled proceedings! It was not her fault! Nor was it her fault that she happened to get colors that she liked better than everyone else.

Bruce refused to hear what she said, and told her to go get changed. “You will be cleaning up this whole mess, and no patrolling until it’s done.”

Bruce turned and stalked out, and Steph was left speechless - for once - in the hall. She backed away, seeing the angry stares from the others. The only one who didn’t seem mad at her, was Duke himself. He opened his eyes wide, conveying pity. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed silently.

Instead of being reassuring, however, Steph squinted in suspicion. Oh shit, that probably hadn’t been the best move.

Just moments after Steph left, Jason threw up his hands. “Okay, who wants to have a water gun fight to clean off?”

There were several cheers of assent, but Duke quickly made his own escape at that time. He honestly wasn’t in the mood to get splashed in the face with water. Now was not the time for fun, as the failed prank still hung over him.

Now was the time for plotting.

*****

“Okay, but why on earth do you have a fully functioning sprinkler system in every room?”

“Yeah, Bruce, even for you that’s paranoid! What caused you to think that was necessary?”

“You.”

#duke thomas #duke thomas big bang #batfam #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #dtbb21 #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #kate kane #jean paul valley #luke fox #bette kane

25 notes · View notes

serendipitous-mythicality · 3 years

Text

It's a late spring evening in Joshua Tree, CA. Rhett and Link are camping after having managed to eke out a much-needed long weekend break. Neither of their wives or any of the kids had wanted to come. Though initially disappointed, Link has come to realize how much he’d needed the time away with just Rhett. Though they see each other consistently, it isn’t the same as earlier years. The time before all the demands and time-constraints that come with running such a big business entity as Mythical Entertainment. It’s been nice to just get back to being Rhett and Link without the capitalized, bolded, and italicized emphasis on their names. RHETT AND LINK. There’s no one to entertain and no roles to play. Something’s been on his mind but Link hasn’t known how to bring it up. To be honest, it’s been knocking around his brain for a while. It has a tendency to sneak out mostly when it’s just the two of them and a stray comment won’t leave him alone, taunting him. Sometimes it sneaks out while filming when he’s feeling sentimental or his guard is down. It’s their first night camping and they’d done a lot of hiking throughout the day. Rhett has been bustling around, getting supper together. Nothing fancy, just a quick chili. Link’s been watching him while quietly nursing the single beer he’d had thus far. Barely half the bottle is gone and it’s starting to get a little too warm for his liking. With a grimace, he puts it on the hood of the truck after one more swallow. Later, he’d think on how he couldn’t even blame the alcohol for the words that had slid, unbidden, from his mouth. Out of the blue, Link asks, “Remember that More where we mentioned making a show about camping with Stevie so she could catch us making out?” Leaning against the side of the doorframe, he absently drums his fingers against the window.

With a quiet curse, Rhett sets the knife to the side after almost slicing into a fingertip. Gathering the minced onions, he throws them into the pot. He takes a moment to wonder why he’s surprised at all after all these years over how in sync they are. He’d been thinking along similar lines. Only he’d been thinking about a comedic piece of fan fiction detailing a first kiss. One between he and Link. Someone had sent it to him anonymously and he’d read it out of curiosity. The writer had a genuine talent using wry humour and he had laughed several times. The actual kiss though had been sweet and heartfelt. He’d abruptly shut the browser and walked away from the computer. Luckily, Barbara had come in for attention shortly after and he’d managed to block it from his mind until now. Coughing nervously, Rhett flushes as he grunts out an affirmative answer. Quickly mixing the final ingredient into the bubbling mix, he clicks the burner to low before turning to face his best friend. He has been half expecting this conversation for many, many years now. Especially after it had been so flagrantly brought up recently. Had it really been a couple of months already? The public conversation has been like an albatross around their relationship ever since it had happened. It had never continued in private. Link, however, has his head turned away, staring determinedly away from Rhett.

He tries to articulate a phrase that might make sense of what’s been solidifying in his mind. “I don't know why I brought it up on camera that day. I guess I don't understand why people think we…,” he trails off in frustration, not knowing exactly what he wants to say. He continues as he pushes his hair back with a jerky rake of his hand, “I mean, we have wives.” The silence fills the gaps between his stuttered-out words. “I know you don’t want... not in that way…,” he manages before he's cut off when Rhett places a hand on his shoulder. Mouth curling slightly in amusement despite the terror flooding his entire being, he leans in slowly. Watching blue eyes widen, he tilts his head before placing an almost chaste kiss on Link’s mouth. He gently moved his thumb along the side of Link’s jaw as he pulls back a bit. Rhett hesitates a moment, staring at the mouth so close to his, before quickly turning away. As he does, he mumbles, “I've wondered too, bo.”

It hardly counts as it had lasted for mere seconds but the fact that it had happened at all stuns each of them. Neither consider doing anything more, their wives are truly loved and cherished. Their time had passed them by long ago. Right? A dry and chapped rub of lips doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t. Maybe if he thinks it hard enough it’ll be true, Link thinks almost desperately.

“How about some beans,” Rhett asks as he changes the subject. He fumbles his way back to the pot and begins scooping bowls for each of them.

Neither man mentions the tiny bits of semi-cooked onion. The bowls are emptied on auto-pilot as they stiffly sit in their camp chairs.

Link tells himself he’s fine, they’re fine, as he methodically works his way through his supper. Sneaking a peek at his partner, he wonders….

He wonders.

The taller of the two seems unaffected compared to Link who drops his spoon twice and trips on his way to retrieve the previously unwanted alcohol. Inside, he’s roiling. Eventually, he mentions the different route he’d like to try on the way home at the end of their trip. After a shaky start, the conversation runs a little more smoothly.

After a couple of hours chatting, Link gets up to clean up the dishes. It’s the least he can do, he figures, since Rhett made the meal. Also, it’s a momentary escape so he can try to re-order their relationship to fit in what had just happened.

The congealed mass on top of the burner proves that instead of turning the burner off, Rhett had turned it on high. The wind blowing the other way and the absorption in avoiding their earlier moment had left them oblivious to the fate of the leftovers.

Link jumps as Rhett brushes by him on his way towards the tents.

They’re okay. Nothing’s different.

Why do people want them to kiss anyways?

Licking his lips, Link looks up to see the other man watching him with thoughtful eyes.

Turning his attention back to the pot, he channels his energy into cleaning it.

Everything’s the same. They’re still good.

#Rhink #Fan Fiction #Rhett McLaughlin #Link Neal #I feel like Rhett dared us to write something.#Sorry Rhett - you and Link brought it up #I wanted to pick away at this for a long time and expand it but this is an exercise in beating back my OCD a little.#serendipitous-mythicality

34 notes · View notes

imissjoongsmullet · 4 years

Text

My Prince (3)

Pairing: Minghao x reader

Genre: fluff/(angst)

Summary: Life is not exactly easy being the royal gardeners’ daughter but at least it’s simple. When you’re suddenly called upon to serve as the prince’s personal servant, things get a little more than complicated, especially considering the secret history you and the prince share.

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: general angstiness, a bit of a slow burn, very romantic, very soft, the fact that this will most likely become a long series cause I have no chill

Word Count: 3.5K

Author’s Note: it’s here finally! Sorry this took so long, (computer problems ehh) Also, I really love this series and I don’t just wanna keyboard smash it ^^ I hope this fluffy little chapter brightens your day/night ♥ to everyone supporting this, thank you, I love you!! ♥

Alsoooo any kind of feedback literally makes my day, like serotonin through the roof I’m telling you, so please feel free to let me know what you think ♥

►

You slept terribly that night. The distraught look on Minghao’s face covered the walls of your mind like some gruesome mural. It occurred to you then, that even though you saw so much of the young prince’s life, you hadn’t fully understood the weight he’d been carrying all this time. It wasn’t only the weight of his father’s expectations; it was the weight of a hole empire. Millions counted on him to be their savior. No one had ever even asked him what he wanted.

When you brought him his tea the following morning, you were all the more prudent. You opened the door noiselessly and tiptoed in. He was fast asleep. You set down your tray and began preparing the tea as you considered your next course of action. You carefully cut up the fresh herbs you’d taken from the garden before sunrise, hoping their properties might alleviate some of his stress, and added them into the mixture as well. Your eyes kept finding him in the sheets, so serene and content; so unlike him, surely, when he would wake.

Gingerly, you made your way to his bedside, small cup between your fingers.

“Your highness,” you said so softly it was nearly a whisper, though it still felt intrusive to the dead quiet of morning.

His brows furrowed but he did not wake.

“Minghao.” His name slipped out before you could catch yourself.

The prince let out a drowsy moan and shifted, pulling his sheets close to himself.

You couldn’t do it.

With a sigh, you set his tea down beside the bed and rose. You weren’t sure about the consequences of your actions but knew it was the right thing to do.

“The prince isn’t feeling well,” you explained as the emperor and his wife sat down for breakfast.

Xu Yilan looked at you in silence for a while, his eyes piercing. Then he raised his eyebrows and said in a cold voice, “very well,” before turning to his food, indicating the conversation had ended.

You spent the rest of the morning in the prince’s quarters. You remembered Minghao had told you to leave him alone but you were worried about him, so you sat in the corner of his room, doing random chores. You polished his crown and jewelry until they shone like mirrors. You folded his robes and sheets, finding you were finally starting to get better at keeping the creases out. More than often you looked toward the bed, but the prince was clearly enjoying the extra hours of sleep, for he did not rouse.

It was nearly noon when you heard movement behind you. You laid the newly folded sheets in his dresser and turned to see Minghao shift. Your heart lurched and your whole body began to prickle with nerves as you watched him slowly but surely wake up. Flustered, you bent back over your work, folding sheets in the corner on the floor as if you’d heard nothing. The rustling behind you came in bursts until it finally stopped.

“What time is it?” His voice was gravelly.

You steadied your breath before answering. “It’s noon, your highness,” you said, “I’ve alerted the emperor you’re not feeling well.” Hearing the words come out of your mouth now, you felt foolish. You hadn’t asked permission to do anything. Who knew the kind of trouble you’d thrown upon him by doing this. And the silence that followed your explanation wasn’t reassuring in the slightest.

“What did he say?” Minghao responded at last.

You turned to him, still on your knees, keeping your eyes on the floor. “Not much,” you said, “but you’re excused from activities for the time being.”

Another silence followed in which you stared at the shiny wooden floor hoping it might swallow you whole. You were so caught up in your own nerves you barely heard his response when it did come.

“Thank you.”

You looked up at him, finding his eyes on you. He didn’t smile but there was a genuine kindness radiating from his face that made the tension ebb from your shoulders.

He let you prepare some of your fresh tea and while he drank, you hurried to the kitchens to fetch his breakfast.

“Have you eaten?” he asked as you set the tray down onto his bed.

You hadn’t; you’d forgotten all about it, worrying about him.

“Have some,” he went on, gesturing to the food, “you’ve brought far too much for me to finish by myself.”

You felt your face heat up. “I couldn’t,” you mumbled, looking away.

To your surprise, you heard him chuckle softly, “it’s really fine, don’t worry. Have some.”

Hesitating, you sat down on the edge of his bed. He slid the tray your way so it sat between the two of you.

“Here,” he said, offering you his chopsticks.

Your eyes went wide as you stared at his hands. A prince sharing his cutlery with a servant was about as unheard of as a snowstorm in July. There was no way you could let him—

Without warning, he took hold of your hand and placed the chopsticks in your palm. Then he proceeded to pick up a dumpling with his bare hand, putting it past his lips.

You were dumbfounded. You hadn’t seen him this improper since— well, since you were children. The tiniest smile crept onto your lips. You stifled it as you picked up some fried egg and allowed yourself to have breakfast with the prince.

After you were both stuffed with comforting breakfast foods he took you to the library, where he huddled over his books and you continued your search for his missing book. A Vast Unfathomable Secret, brown cover, gold foiling, lily on the cover… it was a near impossible challenge but you wanted to succeed now more than ever. You pulled out book after book in the beautiful, tall-ceilinged room, only to put them back where they came from. You were getting quite tired and your eyes hurt from peering at all those symbols you didn’t know how to read. But you kept going, knowing how much it’d mean to Minghao if you managed to locate it.

After hours of searching, much of you initial gusto had died out, buried under repeated disappointment. The sleepiness was getting to you as well; you’d woken up so early. You were so out of it, it took you a few moments of dead-eyed staring before you noticed the little flower on one of the covers. Realization hitting, you let out a tiny gasp as your fingers wrapped tight around the brown covered book.

“I—” you breathed, starting to step down the ladder, “I think I found it.”

Minghao tore his head from his book, looking to you expectantly.

“Is this it?” you asked, holding out the brown, leather thing.

He glanced at it and the momentary excitement in his eyes died out.

“That’s not the title,” he said, frowning up at you from his seat, “see?” He took the book and showed you the cover, where a string of symbols read what was apparently not A Vast Unfathomable Secret.

“I’m sorry,” you said simply, not knowing what else to say.

He continued to look at you quizzically. After a long pause he let out a long sigh.

“you don’t know how to read.”

Embarrassment washed over you as you stood there, fumbling with your hands. “I was never taught.”

Something in him softened. “You should have said something.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied, cringing at yourself.

“Don’t apologize.” He shook his head as his eyes searched yours. “Sit down.” He gestured at the small space next to him at his table.

Without a word, you got down on your knees and sat beside him, feeling all of a sudden very hot. Minghao slid aside his own book, then opened the book you’d given him and laid it open on the table between you.

You stared at the countless symbols on the page, brain going haywire.

“It’s not that hard,” he said, small smile playing at his lips. And then he began reading out loud, his velvety voice filling the air around you. This was a children’s book, you realized; a fairytale. Your parents had told you this story when you were a child. It was about a farmer whose onions came to life and stole people’s toenails. There was a lesson in there somewhere about greed, but you didn’t really remember. Minghao read the first page, slowly, before sliding the book a bit closer to you.

You shook your head. “I can’t—”

“I’ll teach you,” he interrupted and without pause started explaining the meaning of the various symbols.

It was a slow job, and you were sure the prince had better things to do, but he sat there with you all afternoon, going over the story sentence by sentence, character by character. By the time the sun started to go down and natural light was fleeing the room, your head was drowning in new information in the best way possible. You never thought you’d be able to learn something like this.

“We should probably continue this some other time,” Minghao said, looking up at the darkening room.

You nodded, feeling a little guilty for taking up so much of his time.

“Thank you, your highness,” you said quietly.

“I’m glad to help,” he replied. Then he cast his eyes downward, thinking for a moment. “Actually, I wanted to apologize.” He sighed and looked back up at you. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you last night.”

“I—” you stuttered, “It’s okay, I understand.”

He gave a weak smile.

You could tell there was a lot going on behind those warm brown eyes of his. Part of you wanted to reach out and comfort him in some sort of way but you realized you’d have no idea where to start.

“Minghao—” you spoke up but the boy was already rising from the floor.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said.

You trailed behind him along the deck outside the library, wondering what had gotten into the young prince. He felt more like he did years ago, like a carefree boy with all the time in the world. But there was something else as well, you couldn’t help but notice. You were practically watching him bury it deeper within himself with every footstep.

“You want to go see the orchards?” he said, turning around to you with a mischievous grin.

Exhilaration rushed through you at the thought; you hadn’t visited the orchards since you’d come to the castle.

“It’s nearly time for dinner,” you said but the prince wasn’t fazed. He merely continued smiling at you and reached out his hand.

Eying him with suspicion you took his hand — a gesture that set about a million butterflies loose in your stomach.

“Come on,” he said, flinging a leg over the railing of the deck. You watched him crawl to the other side as you clung to his hand, hoping he wouldn’t loose balance and fall down to the grass below. Then he was pulling you over as well. You felt tremendously awkward in your long robes and flimsy slippers. Minghao took notice and grabbed your other hand as well, keeping you balanced until you slid to the other side right next to him.

“I used to do this a lot as a child,” he said, smiling into the evening sky.

“I can tell,” you answered unable to stifle a nervous laugh.

He looked at you, amused. “It’s not that far down,” he promised, “on three?”

You barely had the time to think for he was already counting, then taking your hand again and jumping off the deck.

The fall to the tall grass down below was soft and once your heart had calmed itself, an overwhelming glee filled you. You were out.

Minghao pulled you up by the hands, laughing. “See? It’s not so scary.”

You walked through the unruly grass until it gave out to a large row of bushes. You slid between the branches, trying not to rip your clothes, finally entering the vast area that was the royal gardens. From there, you knew exactly where to go. You walked up a naturally pebbled path, over the wooden bridge of a narrow stream, through the famous rose gardens, until you reached the start of the apple orchard. It looked enchanted in the full moonlight, the ripe apples near glistening on the trees. You felt yourself relax in their presence.

“Dinner is served,” Minghao said, strolling up to the first tree and pulling a perfectly round apple from its branches. He bit into its flesh, the sound of it’s crisp juiciness penetrating the night’s quiet.

You walked up beside him, taking an apple for yourself. The moment your teeth dug into the fruit, you remembered the countless times you’d done this, back when you tended the gardens on a daily basis. The joy of picking your food right from nature’s generous hands overwhelmed you. In the last few months you’d nearly forgotten all about it. So much had changed.

Minghao was already sauntering through the trees towards what you knew was the orange trees. He’d always liked those best. You followed him up the small slope and around a bend where about a dozen trees stood in a circle. It was easy to hide away here.

He threw you an orange and immediately continued picking more for himself. You waited for him in the center of the clearing, smiling when he finally joined you, carrying a hefty amount of fruit in his arms.

You spent a good part of night there, between the trees. You sat, peeling and sharing oranges, gazing up at the sky and recollecting stories of times long past. The whole thing felt like a dream, too good to be true. It felt like a big, fat rock had been plunged into the lake that was your feelings for Minghao, sending the water flying everywhere. His smile made you deliciously lightheaded and his laugh had you feeling like you wouldn’t feel an ounce of sadness ever again. You wanted nothing but to spend more time with him. You knew it was a path destined to lead to destruction but you shut out those thoughts stubbornly because every time the prince looked your way the stars came out inside of you, lighting you up from within.

The days of summer seemed endless. They belonged to you and the prince alone. Minghao was still avoiding his parents and determent to spend most of his time with you, either in the library, teaching you to read, in his quarters, having dinner in bed, or in the extensive gardens, where you could hide away from everyone. You did hear words of concern here and there. The maids whispered amongst themselves when you walked by and Tou Ma had even ordered you to talk some sense into the prince. But no matter how good of a point the head servant made, you refused to take in the advice.

“—and his toenails had disap—”

“—disappeared,” Minghao completed your sentence, index finger underlining the text.

You exhaled and shifted on your little floor cushion next to him. “It’s hard.”

“You must be tired. Let’s end it here for now,” he said, breaking out into a sheepish smile, “sorry, I tend to get carried away with books.”

“I know,” you said, glancing his way. You loved way he immersed himself in his books. It had always fascinated you, especially considering how foreign the idea of reading had always been for you. The fact that he was sharing something so dear to him meant more to you than you’d ever admit to his face.

“Why do you love it so much?” you asked out of the blue.

Minghao scrunched up his nose in thought. “Reading? I don’t know.” He closed the book, letting his fingers graze it’s sot leather cover. “I suppose it’s a way for me to travel outside the castle, to do different things, be different things.” His eyes narrowed as he let silence take over again.

You nodded, letting the information sink in. You felt an overwhelming urge to put your arm around him, to lay your head on his shoulder, but you just sat there, picking at your nails under the low table. You wanted to ask him more about the kind of traveling he’d like to do but, here too, your bravery failed you. In the end, you decided to ask him a different question entirely; one you’d been meaning to ask for weeks.

“What’s A Vast Unfathomable Secret about?”

He clearly hadn’t expected the question.

“Nothing,” he answered at last with a wave of his hand.

“Nothing?”

“Yes, nothing.”

You eyed him shiftily. “But it’s important?”

“It’s important.”

A chuckle escaped your lips.

“Don’t laugh,” he said with feigned disdain, “you’re making a fool of a royal.”

His fake-proper tone only made you laugh more.

“Oh I’m quite serious,” he went on smirking and pointing a finger at you.

“Uhuh, yeah I’m listening,” you giggled, nearly falling over on your cushion.

He reached out and took your wrists, trying to still you. “I could have you executed for treason.”

“Oh no!” you let out before breaking out into another fit of laughter that sent you both to the floor.

For a moment he was unbelievably close, hovering over you, laughing. But the next, his eyes went wide and he pulled away, scrambling up and starting to clear up the table without another word.

That evening, he took you or a short stroll around the gardens, where you picked as many pears as you could carry, and headed for his room. He ate as you finished up some of the chores you’d been procrastinating. You hurriedly dusted his entire quarters, knowing Tou Ma was notorious for random check ups of your work. After that, you rearranged the items on his desk, refilled his ink bottle, cleaned his brushes and finally put away his fresh laundry. The sun was well on its way down by the time you finished. All the while you’d felt his eyes on him.

You’d been talking of random things, keeping the conversation light, but your mind was esewhere. Your mind was still in the library where his lips had been so close to touching yours. It was hard to focus on anything when all you saw was his perfect face hovered over you.

“I should go,” you said as you closed his closet doors, knowing you probably wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways. You put on your slippers and headed for the door.

“Wait—” you heard him say, followed by his muffled feet on the wooden floor. You turned around just before reaching the door, finding Minghao looking gingerly at you.

“Um,” he started and it occurred to you just how different he felt from when you first became his servant. You thought for a second he would continue to stare at you forever, eyes swimming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Here,” he said at last, holding up another pear timidly, “you should eat.”

The pear sat perfectly between you, the only thing separating you from one another. Once again, the closeness of it all flooded you and you found no voice to answer him with. Slowly, you reached up and wrapped your hand around the fruit, fingers brushing his in a way that was so paralyzing you thought you’d never come to your senses. You heard him say your name; a soft whisper from his lips. You looked up at him, startled to see he was just as zoned out as you were, like he wanted to say something but had no idea of where to begin.

Then out of nowhere his hand let go of the pear, letting it tumble between your feet so it could hold your hand instead. His fingers were so warm and soft yet slightly apprehensive in their touch.

Your lips parted as you stared down at the space between you, where the bruised pear now lay.

“Minghao—”

Just then, there was a loud knock on the doors. The both of you jumped; Minghao never had visitors.

The prince opened up as you took a few steps back, blending in with the walls as a servant should.

“You’re expected in the conference hall,” the broad-shouldered guard said coldly, “immediately.”

“It’s night time, can’t this—” Minghao started but the guard wasn’t having any of it.

“It’s urgent.”

You watched the dread wash over the prince as reality sank in. Without another word, he followed the guard out and all you could do was trail behind him, hoping for the best.

Part 1

Part 2

118 notes · View notes

melodious-madrigals · 4 years

Text

“who puts pineapple on pizza and who looks on in disgust?”

- wondertrev edition

***

“I’m sorry, we’re eating what?” asks Steve. He’s been in the twenty-first century for five whole days when one of Diana’s friends from the Justice League—Barry, who he incidentally met five days ago—stops by because he misses her, crashing in with a whirl of limbs, a lot of enthusiasm, and a hankering for ‘pizza’.

“Pizza,” repeats Barry emphatically, buzzing with even more than his normal amounts of energy. (He really likes pizza.)

“Gesundheit,” says Steve.

“Wait, you really don’t know what pizza is?” asks Barry, eyes wide.

Steve shrugs, and points to himself. “Transplant from 1918, remember?”

“Right, yeah. I’m just. Trying to comprehend a world. In which pizza doesn’t exist? And I’m not gonna lie, I’m having some trouble.”

“Okay, but what is it?”

“The most delicious thing in the world,” says Barry dreamily, as if it's been a year since he's had it and not eight days. Unfortunately, it provides Steve with no further clues.

“It is like a flatbread,” says Diana, looking up from her computer where, theoretically, she’s accessing a menu and a phone number. (The things technology can do now are astonishing.) “With herbed tomato sauce and cheese and assorted toppings. Then it is baked in an oven.”

“I’m sorry, I think I misheard,” says Steve. “You put tomato sauce and cheese on bread and then melt it?” He looks vaguely grossed out, and Barry squawks.

“No, man, it’s the best thing ever. It works, I promise!”

Steve looks entirely unconvinced. “I mean, fresh sliced tomatoes on a sandwich, sure,” he says, as Diana dials the number. “But sauce?”

“Just try it, and hold your judgement until after,” Barry encourages. Steve trusts Diana, and that’s not the only reason he’s willing to try it, but it’s the most important thing on his list.

“Hi, yes, I’d like to place an order for pick-up,” says Diana across from them. “One plain cheese pizza, one veggie supreme, one meat lover’s”—Barry makes a waving motion with his arms and when she looks over, he holds up two fingers—“sorry, two meat lover’s, and one specialty cheese pizza with pineapple.”

Steve’s head snaps up, and he glances at Barry. “Tell me she didn’t just say pineapple.”

Barry looks pained. “She definitely did. That’s how Diana orders her pizza.”

“Tomato and pineapple,” Steve says slowly, like he can’t comprehend it, mostly because he can't.

“That’s not a combination I endorse,” Barry says, holding his hands up in deference. “Pineapple on pizza is a hot-button issue in the culinary world, and your girlfriend is on the wrong side of history.”

“I most certainly am not,” says Diana indignantly, as she hangs up the phone. (Pineapple or not, Steve finds himself strangely warm at the casual way Barry linked them as a couple, without a second thought.) “The pizza will be ready in twenty-five minutes,” she adds.

“Copy that.” Barry stretches a little. “We have enough time for an episode of The Good Place before I have to run in to get it.”

Diana already has something called Netflix pulled up, which leads Steve to believe this is an established ritual. “You’ll like this,” she says to Steve. “It’s a comedy about ethics.”

“No war, though,” Barry assures him seriously, and hits play on episode one, even though they’re meant to be in season three. Twenty-two minutes later as the credits play, Barry zips out of the apartment; he’s back within four minutes carrying five flat, stacked boxes.

Whatever Steve was imagining, a circle cut into triangles was not it. He stares at it a beat too long, and Barry sidles up to him.

“Whatever anyone else tells you, pizza is something you eat with your hands, not utensils.”

“Sure,” Steve says gamely, and watches as Barry picks up a piece, folding it mostly in half into an even thinner triangle, before shoving it into his mouth.

Steve follows suit, and takes a bite. There’s an explosion of flavor in his mouth: it’s strange, at first, but he does understand what Barry means about it working. The fatty saltiness of the cheese and the acidity of the tomato sauce complement each other.

It’s not destined to be his most favorite food, he thinks, but it’s a satisfying meal for sure.

He also tries the pizza with vegetables (it’s good; he loves onions, olives, and peppers, so he considers it an improvement even over the cheese pizza), and declines a slice of Barry’s pepperoni and sausage pizza. That’s when Diana also offers him a slice of hers.

He looks at the cooked pineapple, nestled in the melted cheese. It doesn’t look particularly appealing, but if Diana likes it, how bad can it be? After all, the other pizzas were good.

He takes a tentative bite.

It’s a mistake.

He’s only ever had pineapple fresh and cold, and he hates the texture of it cooked. The taste isn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought—the sweet tang pairs pretty well with the specialty goat cheese dollops—but it’s an experience he has no desire to repeat.

He manages to swallow, but puts the slice back on his plate and pushes it towards Diana. Next to him, Barry bursts out laughing. “Welcome to the correct side of pizzadom,” says Barry.

Diana shoots him a dirty look. “Pineapple is a perfectly acceptable topping.”

“Yeah, if you don’t have taste buds,” Barry jokes.

“It was more the texture,” Steve admits.

Diana gives him a soft look that makes Barry pretend to gag, and says, “It can be a little strange at first.”

“No way,” says Steve. “No at first. No more pineapple on pizza for me.”

Diana studies him for a moment. “Very well. I think I can live without it, if it means getting to share a pizza with you.”

Steve can’t help but smile while Barry just blinks and then: “Goddamn it,” mutters Barry, who’s been trying to get her to admit pineapple on pizza is stupid for two years, now. “I can’t even tease her about the fact that she’s admitted there are, indeed, other ways to eat pizza, because that was adorable.”

Diana laughs; Barry sulks; and Steve thinks, privately, that he could get used to evenings like this one, pineapple pizza and all.

***

#wondertrev #wondertrev fanfiction #diana x steve #steve x diana #diana prince #steve trevor #barry allen #wonder woman #lenci writes #lenci's tumblr ficlets

95 notes · View notes

secret-engima · 4 years

Note

I present, in the Little Nox Dissidia: Little Nox is understandably distressed at being in this place again, as a toddler. Noctis would like to register a complaint, as he carefully balanced a baby LC on his hip, this is not how he wanted to discover a long awaited baby brother. SWORD, big sword, why sword, HELP! Ardyn comes down like the wrath of the Astrals manifest to rescue his nephew(s), & Crystal-o-Vision is how the Citadel discovers they have a few LC extra wandering around.

hgfdhgfd YES. Let’s just- let’s just ignore the usual Little Nox age gap and say that Noctis is 17-ish when Nox is like- 5 for this particular Dissidia blurb. Just for the lols.

-Little Nox is ... AWARE that he knows this place. In a dreamlike sort of way, and he knows it is Not Good that he is here. Let’s pretend, for the sake of Drama™, that Nox shows up with like- Materia’s Champions rather than Spiritus’s this once, and Cloud is honestly a very quiet Die™ when he stumbles on this ACTUAL SMOL CHILD staring out at the desert with a wobbling lip and big eyes.

-Cloud awkwardly hauls the kiddo to Materia’s tower and nearly gets the life scared out of him halfway there when Nox starts throwing a mini-tantrum that involves Armiger (that’s a lot of swords that’s TOO MANY SWORDS-). Luckily for Cloud, Nox is not really a tantrum kind of child so it quickly trails off to miserable sniffling.

-Even so, with that display of magic in mind, when Cloud spots Noctis, who looks so similar to the child Cloud is awkwardly holding and also has the blue sparkle magic, Cloud is all too relieved to speed walk over there and plop Nox into a stunned Noctis’s arms with a gruff, “Found your baby brother outside,” and then speed walk off, leaving Noctis to stare in shock-horror-WHAT at the mini him in his arms who is already relaxing into his grip and tangling young magic with Noctis’s, making it utterly unmistakable that YES. This smol child is, in fact, related to Noctis.

-Someone help him.

-Noctis ends up propping Nox on his hip for a while and getting cooed over by the female champions while someone kindly rigs him a backpack/sling thing out of a cape (WoL is happy to donate his cape to the Baby Cause and all the Champions are an Outrage that there is a CHILD HERE. Not like Onion Knight, who knows a sword and is at least 12, but a FIVE YEAR OLD, Materia is apologetic and confused, because she could have sworn she only summoned old souls that knew combat).

-Ardyn, meanwhile, is a Rampage. He quickly scares the living daylights out of 80% of the crazies under Spiritus’s command and recruits a bemused Sephiroth to the Hunt For Darling Nephew (because Ardyn isn’t optimistic enough to believe Nox is still safe and sound in the hotel room they’d been in moments ago) and even Spiritus is wide-eyed at how Feral this new Champion is.

-Noctis does Not want to go out there and fight things with a newly discovered baby brother on his back, but he also wants to get home asap with said baby brother, so he tentatively leaves the tower with a hovering group of Champions trailing around him (which include Lightning, WoL, Cecil, Y’Shtola, and Cloud Nox-keeps-crying-when-I-leave-his-sight-someone-help-me Strife).

-Naturally, a group of Champions that large gather attention and they get attacked.

-Noctis is doing pretty good holding his own, especially since the other Champions are working hard to keep the enemy AWAY FROM THE SMOL CHILD, when one of the Big Guys (what’s his name- Golbez? Exdeath? WoL’s rival) breaks through the line and goes after Noctis as “the weak link”.

-Noctis can barely start to raise his sword when there’s a shockwave of magic so thick and murderous it sense everyone but him to their knees. There’s a flare of red magic and the snap-crack of a warp and suddenly there’s a Murder Hobo in their midst, tearing apart Spiritus’s champions with bared teeth and blood red magic running down his face in a parody of his old Scourge Face.

-Materia’s Champions can only watch as this new coming shreds the opposition like paper and sends them packing, then stands there breathing lightly with a red armiger spinning dangerously around him.

-The wary silence is broken by Nox leaning as far as he can past Noctis’s shoulder, reaching toward the Murder Hobo with a soft, relieved pulse of magic and a little cry of “Uncle!”

-UNCLE? Noctis thinks frantically as the man turns around and stares with that horrible red mask of magic. A blink and the mask is gone and the man is stalking forward, swords tucked away in armiger as he reaches for Nox with a relieved, “Nephew!”

-What.

-What is going on.

-“Ummmm,” says Noctis, shifting a bit to keep Nox out of the man’s grip. The man just blinks at him, then smiles, “Ah, you must be my OTHER nephew!” He doffs his hat and bows, “Ardyn Izunia, at your service. Now if you don’t mind,” He straightens up with a smile that means Death, “Give me back the nephew I’ve been raising since he was a toddler.”

-Not an idiot, Noctis hands Nox over. He can feel Ardyn’s magic swirling around them anyway, all but screaming protective and loving instincts. This man, for all he’s scary and very dangerous, is no threat to Noctis’s baby brother. He’s also Noctis’s uncle? Apparently? Has to be with that magic and his age.

-Noctis is Very Confused, but kinda relieved to have a Murder Hobo Uncle on his side during this insanity.

-Meanwhile, the Chocobros 1.0 who are watching via crystal-o-vision (XD) are all just- this does not compute. This DOES NOT COMPUTE. That is another SON when Regis is certain he did not HAVE another son (a son that looks just like Noctis at that age, eerily so) and now- now the CHANCELLOR OF NIFLHEIM stands before his sons with magic of his own swirling around them and calls little Nox his NEPHEW. That he’s been RAISING.

-It’s Cor who breaks the silence, Cor who remembers the little blond boy he rescued from a lab and puts the pieces together as best he knows how, leaping to the only conclusion that makes SENSE.

-“He’s a clone.”

-And Regis’s world crashes down around his ears.

-All this time ... all this time he’s had a brother, had FAMILY and now he finds that not only is Niflheim’s chancellor his brother but that Niflheim has taken his son’s blood and MADE A CHILD with it.

-Regis is so furious he can barely breathe.

-The Chocobros 1.0 (plus Titus who is an Internal Die™ when he sees what’s happening) watch the Dissidia adventure with bated breath, watch Ardyn fall into Noctis’s orbit as easily as breathing, DOTING on the enemy prince with a whimsy that spoke of menace but with eyes so soft and calm, with magic that makes Noctis’s shoulders ease without thinking, that all Regis can see is a man who loves his nephews more than anything in the world.

-And they listen, too, as Ardyn tells his story (his cover story, anyway) about running away from the Empire with the little clone boy he found, about how Ardyn himself had been tortured by “Regis’s predecessor” (this only spoken of after a nasty fire spell ruins his shirts and reveals his scars).

-By the time they are all sent back, Noctis showing up in the Citadel and Ardyn and Nox back in their hotel far away, Regis and Co are fully on the warpath and ready to bring the wayward LCs safe home.

#SE asks #anon asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Nox verse #Not How He Wanted To Find Relatives verse #Little Nox verse #dissidia!#this is not how noctis wanted to learn he had relatives

172 notes · View notes

xumos-hoe · 4 years

Note

MC and [boi] are hanging out. SUDDENLY the traitorous wire of MCs somewhat older bra penetrates though the fabric and stabs her side! A short cry of pain cuts the peaceful atmosphere and [boi] quickly looks over at MC clutching the side of her chest!!!!! How will [boi] react???

HJKHKFKDKWSM I CANT STRESS HOW MUCH THIS HAS HAPPENED TO ME IN THE PAST💀💀💀 LMAO THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS BABE AND HOPE U ENJOY💕

MLQC crew react to MC getting poked by a bra wire

~~~~~~~~

Victor

Cooking on Friday evenings was a past time the two of you enjoyed almost every week.

The aroma of Victor’s next masterpiece filled the cozy space of the kitchen; something reminiscent of sweet peppers and spice. The sizzling of red meat on the stove coupled with the piano resonating from the speakers filled the evening with an even more calming ambience.

You peered into the pan on the stove, with the steak and all it’s juices cooking perfectly. Victor was on the other side of the counter, quietly dicing onions and mushrooms. You smiled to yourself as you watched the peaceful expression on his face—he was definitely in his happy place and it warmed your heart to see him so at peace.

Your gaze fell to the bowl of uncut tomatoes, lettuce, and cucumber beside him. You had a thought and stepped closer. “Do you need anything extra for the salad?”

Victor’s movement didn’t falter. He worked swiftly, and without even lifting his gaze from the chopping board, motioned to the fridge. “Cilantro. Topmost shelf.”

You nodded and did as he asked. Though the cilantro was...quite high up... you stood on your tippy toes and...

“Ow!”

A short cry of pain broke Victor from his concentration. He quickly turned towards the fridge where you were, eyes squeezed shut and clutching your side tightly.

The knife clattered to the countertop and within seconds, Victor was right by your side. His brows furrowed closely in concern as he watched your movements, fingertips finding your own where they’d been clutching your side.

“Did you hurt yourself? What’s wrong?” There was a trace of urgency in his voice and you almost laughed and shook your head quickly.

“No—m-my bra wire...”

cue an instantly confused Vic

bra wire? huh???

“It stabbed me!” You stand up straight and peer down your shirt with a frown, noticing that sOmeHoW the wire of your bra slipped out and poked you.

and b r u h.

HERE VICTOR WAS THINKING THAT YOU REALLY GOT STABBED

Honestly he’s more confused as to HOW tf that would even happen but too annoyed to ask.

don’t ask Victor idk either

Victor sighs long and deeply to himself before rolling his eyes and grabbing the cilantro himself. You’re still to busy adjusting your bra through your shirt that you don’t notice him blush a little and mutter “moron” under his breath.

He’s already working on the cilantro by the time you thinkkk you’ve fixed the wire and try to help him again—but Victor stops you.

“You can help after you’ve changed. Now go.”

“But—”

“Go.”

Hanging your head in shame, you step out the kitchen and comply without a second word.

Lucien

just let this man have some peace and quiet pls—

but nah, your bra had other plans.

The two of you were at his office—you were waiting for him to finish up writing some 200-fucking-page dissertation on something about neuroscience and THEN the two of you could go out for lunch.

The weather was so nice outside too; sunnier than it’d been in days and you could already feel the warm, summer breeze on your skin despite the window pane separating you from it.

Besides the rapid keyboard tapping and your steps on the floor of his office, the room was mostly silent and becoming increasingly stuffy. You’d already thrown off your cardigan earlier to help with the heat but it was still becoming warmer.

So you had an idea and walked towards the windows:

“Lucien? Do you mind if I crack open a window?”

For the first time in forever, he looked up from the computer screen and gave you a smile. “Do whatever you’d like, but I’ll admit that it is getting rather warm in here.”

You turned on your heels happily and reached for the lock on the windows before it happened...

And by it—I mean the piece of shit wire from an even more piece of shit bra that had penetrated through the fabric and stabbed your side.

Lucien looks up again when he hears you gasp out and tug at your shirt painfully. You’re even cursing under your breath when the wire digs into your side a second time.

He half stands from his seat, a little suprise as he watches it all play out before speaking up.

“MC? Are you alright?”

You haven’t stopped fidgeting with your shirt (specifically the thing beneath it) aND I GUESS YOU CAN SAY LUCIEN KINDA UNDERSTOOD...

“It’s just that the wire—”

“Of your bra poked you?”

You pause and slowly face him with a blank expression. how did he know?

“How did y—?”

A gentle stream of laughter fills the room as Lucien sets his glasses aside and rises from his seat.

“The same thing happened last week, don’t you remember?”

You think back for a moment and oh. he’s right.

You’re not sure if it’s the onslaught of heat or your own embarrassment but your cheeks turn a bright shade of red as Lucien walks over and slips his bag over his shoulder.

“Luckily, I’ve finished my work for the day. But we might have to make a short trip before lunch.”

You take his hand and frown. “Where?”

Suddenly, Lucien’s free hand creeps up your back to where the clasp of your bra is. He taps the clasp directly and smiles.

The gesture is all the explanation you need.

Kiro

Wearing an older bra on a flight seemed like the more reasonable choice tbh. You’d be trapped in a corner for 6 hours, might as well make it comfy.

but you had no way of telling that this would be the consequence of wearing an old bra.

Kiro had a tendency to fall asleep on flights until the last possible minute before landing, and NOOOO—he couldn’t use a normal pillow like normal people do.

He liked sleeping on your shoulder.

This wasn’t a problem. You hardly mind, in fact, it’s quite endearing. Just not when the side he’s sleeping on also happens to be the side of your rib cage that the bra wire stabs.

You fight against a cry of pain the instant it pokes you. Especially since you were so squished, it continued to poke deeper.

And worst of all, you had no way of moving it with Kiro on your shoulder, snoozing away.

You almost curse the ridiculousness of the situation. Cue you making an awkward attempt to crane your free hand up your shirt to adjust the wiring without anyone thinking otherwise...

AND ITS SO HARD BECAUSE KIRO IS RIGHT THERE! PRESSED AGAINST YOUR SIDE!!

He shows no signs of waking up and the deeper the wire digs, the more restless you become, until you’re left with the last possible choice.

“Pssst. Psssst! Kiro?”

You try whispering directly into his ear, and after a few tries, the blonde stirs beside you and thankfully, moves his head away, giving you enough room to adjust your posture and the wiring.

But the wire falls back into place.

You stifle a cry of pain and clutch your side tightly. Somehow, Kiro had finally woken up and noticed you in what he assumed was “pain” and his sleepy gaze instantly turned bewildered.

His hand finds yours and he whispers urgently. “Miss Chips?! Hey, what happened?”

As quiet as you try to make your voice, Kiro manages to make out bra and wire—and it takes alllll of your strength not to sock this mf in the face when he starts laughing.

You slap his arm and make another attempt to move wire but he keeps on laughing.

The laughter dies down after a couple from the opposite aisle shoot the two of you a look, and between tears, Kiro asks if you’re alright now.

Though you don’t answer him, you’re impressed by his audacity when he snuggles his head right back against your shoulder, even after embarrassing you, and falls back asleep.

Gavin

I guess having such a fit boyfriend came with its downsides

Because more often than not, Gavin asked you to work out with him.

And the worst part was that he rarely took no for an answer—he was actually quite adamant about it, mostly for your benefit, but secretly—it gave him a little extra time to hang out with you.

It’d be a waste of good weather to spend the morning holed up in a gym, so the two of you figured to take your workout outside and jog around the park.

So, your first mistake was wearing an older bra instead of a sports bra without wiring. You realized this too late and couldn’t go back inside—what was the worst that could happen anyway?

...the worst happened halfway through your first lap around the park.

You knew Gavin held back like 97% of his normal speed just so he could match your pace and stay right next to you despite the mANY times you’ve asked him to go on ahead.

However, today was better than most days. The early morning sunshine and good weather did quite a bit to motivate you, so most of the jog had already gone smoothly.

until that halfway point...

Gavin was usually lost in his own thoughts while he ran, as were you, so very little conversation occurred during these times. Sometimes he’d even have his earbuds in and you knew better than to disturb him.

That’s why he didn’t exactly hear you cry out in pain when the initial poke happened. You slowed to a stop and squeezed your eyes shut—that’s what had caught his attention, and soon enough, he was by your side.

His expression went from curious to mild concern as he watched you exasperatedly peer down your shirt and cringe as the wire poked you yET AGAIN.

“...MC? You okay?”

You nodded and tugged aggressively at your shirt. “

“I’m okay! But this stupid bra...”

jvkfkejxjwj YALL💀

GAVIN. WAS. CONFUSEDDDD

For some reason his brain could NOT compute why a bra would cause you this much pain. HE WASN’T EVEN ABLE TO PROPERLY ASK

BIRDCOP WAS SHOCKED when you STRAIGHT UP shoved your arm down your shirt and tugged that mf wire out of your rib cage.

You had to roll your eyes and explain that the wire in your bra poked you and that somehow confuses him even more.

bras have wires??

The only thing he asks is if you wanna take a small break to fix your uh...situation... but you wave your hand and assure him that you’re fine.

But actually !!! Gav doesn’t let you continue jogging. He asks you to wait on a nearby bench for him to finish his workout before the two of you head back home (mostly because he’s scared that it’ll happen again and hurt you).

(and truthfully, you’re a little relieved to finally sit down)

232 notes · View notes

xmxisxforxmaybe · 4 years

Text

Decryption_Error: “Catastrophic Failure”

Summary: Y/N does everything she can to help Elliot one last time.

Warnings: Angst, Discussion of DID and Mental Health

A/N: * = dialogue taken directly and/or paraphrased from the show; ** = researched tech stuff (not my thoughts/ideas)

Word Count: 6767

Decryption_Error: All Chapters

I blinked away a drugged sleep as my phone blared. I thought I had silenced it, but then again, my overreliance on my anxiety meds was making everything muddled.

Elliot 🖤

I had to be dreaming.

I hadn’t heard from Elliot since he walked away from me on Coney Island a week ago.

I had to be dreaming, but I could still hear the warble of my ringtone and I could feel the vibrations of my phone as I stared at his name.

I touched my thumb stupidly to the green icon and slid it to answer, expecting no one to be on the other end.

“Hello?”

“I need you to come out to your parents’ house. There’s not a lot … not a lot of time. Please.”

“Elliot?” I questioned, my pulse quickening at the edge of desperation in his voice. “Please tell me this is really you.”

A harsh, shuffling sound made me pull the phone slightly away from my ear, then the line went dead.

I lowered my phone to stare at the screen as it went black, but the persistent hammering of my heart reminded me that really did happen and I needed to move … fast.

I fumbled my way through the dark and into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face to clear my head. I brushed my teeth as I walked into the closet and pulled on my still-sandy jeans and jostled into my also-still-sandy sweater from the night not-Elliot walked away from me. I yanked my sweater down as it caught on my toothbrush before I rushed back into the bathroom to rinse.

I stumbled as I slid into my sneakers, but when a small pile of sand fell out of the tread, I stared at it, remembering the story Elliot told me about a day he and his father played hooky and went to the beach. When he got home, his sneakers were full of sand and he dumped them on his bedroom floor. His mother was furious, but his father wasn’t. Elliot had said he often thought about that moment, about how difficult it would be to take enough sand away from that beach, shoe-full by shoe-full to make a difference in the landscape.*

“Is that what you really want, El?” I asked as his fingers ran through my hair while I laid with my head in his lap, looking up and watching his chin move as he spoke. “To change the world?”

“I don’t know. It takes so long to make any real change. What if I don’t have the stomach for it?”*

“Well,” I said slowly, smiling as I reached up to angle his face so he looked down at me, his own mouth mirroring my soft smile as he waited for me to continue. “It didn’t take you all that long to change my life.”

“Has it been a good change?” he asked as his smile grew to a grin.

“The best change,” I answered as my happy grin paralleled Elliot’s, our exchange of mirrored smiles offering the perfect evidence for how we had changed each other’s lives for the best.

I gasped for a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding as that memory assaulted me.

“Fuck!” I yelled into the void of my closet as I pushed away the sweetness of the memory and forced my mind back to the agony of the present.

I adjusted my shoes, and tore out of the bedroom, only slowing my pace as I passed the guest room. I offered a prayer to anything listening that my parents stayed fast asleep.

After Elliot was fired and I didn’t answer my dad’s phone calls, he came to my apartment. I had managed to keep myself together for the rest of the work week, but the second I saw my dad, the dam inside of me broke.

I clung to him as he cradled me on the sofa, reduced to an inconsolable child as the heartbreak of losing Elliot flooded through me.

Mom and Dad cancelled their Memorial Day plans, even though it was going to be the first once since they had officially moved into the Greenwich house. Kath decided to host Josh’s family at their place, and Erin, Ryan, and Charlie decided to fly down to Palm Beach for the weekend. Each of my siblings did their best to cajole me into joining them, but they all knew I wasn’t going to.

Mom then made a very loud proclamation to anyone who would listen that she and my dad would stay with me in the city until I was “feeling more like myself.”

I didn’t have the strength to fight her, and although I was hesitant to admit it, having my parents to take care of me as my world fell apart helped.

After grabbing my bag, I shut the door to my apartment as quietly as I could, and as I waited for the elevator, I glanced at my phone to check the time.

2:07 am

I tried not to think that exactly one year ago, Elliot was asleep in my bed after we had a picnic and had gotten high, both of us basking in feelings that came at the beginning of a relationship, both of our hearts identical twins of hope for the possibility of an “us.”

I fumbled with the door to my SUV and settled in, slapping my cheeks to shake off the remnants of my meds. As a final thought, I checked my call history just to make sure everything still had really happened.

Elliot 🖤 1:54 am

I put the car in reverse, and quickly made my way out of the city.

* * * * *

I was rigid with fear as I finally pulled into my parents’ house, my stomach in knots and my head aching from clenching my jaw for the entire drive.

Considering Elliot’s phone call, I was unsurprised that the front door was unlocked.

Opening it slowly, I stepped into the pitch-black entryway, my eyes scanning the dark for any movement. I moved to check the alarm system, but it had already been disabled.

As my eyes adjusted, I looked to the staircase but changed my mind and made my way to my dad’s office—the office where Elliot and I had stopped the hackers over the Fourth of July weekend.

There was a light coming from Dad’s office, the familiar muted wash of a computer screen’s glow.

I pushed into the room with caution, my gaze settling on Elliot as he was seated at my dad’s computer, his fingers working at a pace that would’ve been deemed brutal for anyone else.

“Elliot?”

He never took his eyes off the screen, nor did his fingers falter as he replied, “No.”

“Why would you call me?”

“I didn’t,” not-Elliot said as he finally stopped typing and raised his eyes to mine, his cheek bright red with what would surely be a nasty bruise in a few hours.

“You hurt him?”

“He was getting in our way.”

“Our? As in you and Mr. Robot? So you’re a team now?”

Anger spurned my body into motion. I rushed to the desk and kicked the chair so it rolled him away from the computer.

He didn’t fight me.

I glared at him, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. I turned away to look at the monitor, my eyes narrowing in concentration as I worked to figure out what he was running.

My mouth dropped open when I realized I was looking at Dream Market, one of the largest data dump markets on the Dark Web. It had only been running for a little over a year and was only accessible with anonymity software, but it was the place to go if you wanted data … or drugs. **

He had used Tor to access Dream Market. Tor was an acronym derived from The Onion Project, which used onion routers to effectively encrypt user traffic that passed IP addresses through a complex of Tor nodes. Those “onion layers” protected any user's anonymity by providing access to similarly protected websites, thus a virtual, back-alley marketplace was born. **

“You dumped Precision Machining’s data. You—you put it up for sale.”

“Only the board members’ data.”

“Why? Why?!” I asked as I bent over the keyboard, too far out of my skillset to even know how to start retrieving the stolen information.

“This can all go away, sweetheart.”

I froze at the switched intonation which meant I was now dealing with Mr. Robot. I stepped back and looked over at him, Elliot’s entire demeanor changed from focused on the hack and disconnected in his interaction with me, to disconnected from the hack and very, very focused on me.

“This can all go away if I leave Elliot alone.”

“Elliot does like a girl with a brain,” Mr. Robot said as he put his hands on top of his head and leaned back in my dad’s chair.

“What happened to … the other one? The hacker?”

Mr. Robot laughed as he leaned farther back in the chair, confident in his knowledge that he had total control of this situation.

“I’m the only one Elliot really needs. Problem was he lost sight of our plan, thanks to you.”

“Plan?”

Mr. Robot leaned forward, shifting his feet before he stood up, slowly. His movements were more relaxed, more confident than Elliot’s; the way he walked with purpose and the fact that he never dropped his gaze made me understand why he was Elliot’s protector.

“Elliot needs to keep busy. It’s good for him. And the shit you had him doing at his cushy Wall Street job wasn’t cutting it. Not to mention all the lovey-dovey crap—'let’s talk about our feeelings’ all the fucking time. Jesus Christ.

“It was only a matter of time before he needed a … a challenge. You see, sometimes he dreams about saving the world. Saving everyone from an invisible hand, one that brands them with an employee badge. One that forces them to work for people like your old man. People who control us every day without us knowing it. Except that Elliot does know it because I never let him forget it.”*

I listened, unsurprised by Mr. Robot’s words. I knew Elliot thought about those things. I knew he struggled to reconcile being normal with being complacent. But I also knew now that Elliot was angry about something that had nothing to do with the injustices of the world, something that Mr. Robot was working his ass off to keep from him.

“That’s not what this is about and you know it. This,” I said gesturing to the screen, “is an illusion. It’s something you’ve come up with to stop him from getting too close to the secret you’ve worked so hard to protect. Aren’t you tired, Mr. Robot? Aren’t you tired of hurting him for the sake of protecting him? Of keeping Elliot from a truth he needs to know in order to move on—”

“There is no moving on because there is no hard reset that can be done if Elliot remembers!” Mr. Robot growled as he stepped toward me, his face inches from mine.

I stumbled back, my hip bumping against the desk.

“If he remembers, if he learns the truth, it will break him.”

I will never forget the way Mr. Robot’s eyes, the same yet not at all the same as Elliot’s, flashed with pain as I said, “Maybe you’re too scared he won’t need you anymore if he learns the truth. Maybe it’s you that can’t handle the possibility of it healing him instead of breaking him.”

“You know nothing about Elliot, nothing about us! You were just our playground, little girl,” Mr. Robot spat as he grabbed my arm and twisted me toward the computer screen. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pushed my head close to the monitor.

“Everything a hacker would need to take down the company your father built is right there, waiting for the highest bidder,” he said with a final shove of my head before he let me go.

I held myself up with shaky arms, tears stinging at my eyes as I realized this was his ultimatum. There was no reasoning with Mr. Robot because he only had one source of hunger; he desired nothing other than to protect Elliot, even if that meant sacrificing the thing that had made him the happiest he had been in his adult life.

I finally accepted that I didn’t have the strength to fight Mr. Robot. If he was already able to use the only other part of Elliot I got close to against me, it was two against one. It would tear Elliot apart to keep him—if I fought for him, I would be the one breaking him.

“If—” my voice faltered, choked by the sob of despair that had built within me as I realized what I had to do.

“If I swear to—to delete Elliot from my life, will you give him back control? Will you take back the hack?”

Before Mr. Robot could answer, the sound of sirens infiltrated my dad’s office. My head whipped toward the door and I could see lights flashing through the house as the police pulled into the driveway.

“You called the police?” Mr. Robot asked, panic evident in his normally confident tone.

He moved to the office door and peered out into the house, the sound of footsteps pounding across the porch causing his mouth to drop open as he drew in deeper breaths.

I shook my head.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well someone sure as fuck did!”

“Maybe my dad heard me leave. Maybe—”

“Maybe I don’t give a fuck! Now listen to me,” Mr. Robot said, his teeth bared as he walked back to stand in front of me. “If I go to jail, Elliot goes to jail. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Get him out of this and I’ll make sure the hack is reversed.”

“THIS IS THE POLICE! Y/N Y/L/N, IF YOU ARE ABLE, COME TO THE DOOR.”

“How am I supposed to help him if you won’t let me see him again?”

“Do you really want me to bring him back now? Into this mess?!”

“Y/N Y/L/N! ARE YOU IN DANGER? IF YOU DO NOT RESPOND IN 30 SECONDS, WE WILL BREAK DOWN THE DOOR.”

“Promise I’ll see him again? Please.”

“You don’t have the power to bargain!”

“Let me at least say goodbye and I’ll make sure he stays out of jail. Money talks, in case you’re too high on your fucking horse to remember that!”

Mr. Robot’s eyes bore into mine as he decided whether to trust me or to take his luck with the penal system.

I pressed, “And you still have to reverse the hack—I can’t help Elliot stay out of jail if that data gets sold.”

The front door splintered and my foot jumped to the powerstrip under my dad’s desk. I paused near the button, waiting for Mr. Robot’s answer before plunging us into darkness.

“Fine—I undo the hack, you get to say goodbye, then you stay the fuck out of his life. Or else we do this alllll over again, princess.”

I nodded my agreement to his terms.

Mr. Robot jumped back from the doorway as a crunch of noise indicated the front door had been flung open.

A rush of movement flooded into the house.

“Put your hands on your head and don’t move!” I ordered as I kicked off the powerstrip under dad’s desk before rushing out of the office, my hands on my head as I stood in front of the door.

“He’s unarmed! He’s not a threat! He’s not a threat!” I repeated as an officer moved toward me and pulled me away from the office door, ushering me outside to safety.

The other two policemen entered Dad’s office and instructed Mr. Robot to get down on his knees.

As soon as my feet touched the sidewalk, I saw my dad pull in behind one of the cruisers. He leapt out of the car, not even bothering to cut the ignition.

I was bubbling with anger as I shook off the policeman’s grasp and crossed the lawn.

“How could you?!” I yelled before my mouth went dry and I felt a churning in my gut. As I was forced to quell my anger or end up being sick on our front lawn, I looked at my dad’s face; it was so filled with worry that for the first time in my life, he looked every bit his age.

He never stopped moving toward me and grabbed me in a fierce hug when he finally reached me. He tried to shield me from watching who he knew as Elliot being escorted into the police cruiser, but I pushed out of his grasp, needing to know that Mr. Robot hadn’t abandoned the person we both loved at a time when he really did need his protector.

There was nothing in his demeanor that signaled a return to Elliot as Mr. Robot calmly slid into the backseat of the cruiser, his hands cuffed, his face a stoical mask.

“You need to tell the police why he broke into our home, Y/N,” my dad said from somewhere behind me.

“Absolutely not.”

“I love you, Y/N, but you are not thinking clearly!” my dad reprimanded, uncharacteristically raising his voice.

“Of course I am!”

“It’s been him all along. All the hacks—I know it has.”

“That wasn’t him—not entirely.”

“What? Like a hacking ring?”

I laughed, a crazy tittering that felt so out of place on our pristine lawn in front of our huge house. My father had no idea how right he was.

I turned to him to explain, “The person who broke in tonight wasn’t the Elliot you’ve met. He has Dissociative Identity Disorder but he doesn’t know he has it. It’s complicated.”

My father’s face didn’t lose its sternness as he considered what I just told him.

“I know you love him, sweetheart, but—”

“He needs help, Dad,” I begged. “He needs us to be the family he doesn’t have.”

As an officer approached and began asking a series of questions, my mind wondered back to all the quiet dreams I had about a future with Elliot, many of those dreams beginning in this house over the Fourth of July. Now, I felt like my whole world had gone grey; there was no bright goodness to be found in white, no rift of black to clearly signal evil, and no limitless possibilities held within all the bright colors between. Everything was just … grey.

“At this time, are you aware of any reason the subject in custody may have broken into your home?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at my father.

“… No. No, officer. I am not.”

I leaned into him, welcoming his strong arm as it wrapped protectively around my shoulders.

* * * * *

A few hours later, our family lawyer, Thea, met us at the Greenwich Police Department. My dad filled her in as we sat in the waiting area, but I could tell by the frown on her face that Elliot’s case had the potential to be difficult.

“Connecticut has pretty strict laws on burglary—”

“He wasn’t stealing.”

Thea knew better than to ask anything else.

“It’s very helpful you aren’t filing additional charges. If I can swing it, I’d like to get the burglary charge changed to trespassing, then plead out at arraignment. That’s only if I can’t get it dismissed.”

I took a deep breath and spoke slowly, scared that somehow Mr. Robot would hear me.

“The charge can’t be dismissed because Elliot needs court-mandated therapy. He … he won’t go otherwise.”

“Does he have a documented mental illness?”

“Not documented, no. I was thinking … what if you could get him ordered to therapy for anger management?”

“Did he destroy any property at the house?”

“What if he intended to, but was interrupted? There’s … the possibility of establishing a pattern of behavior.”

Thea thought for a moment, then put her hand up when she saw me open my mouth again.

“I don’t want to know anything else until I talk to Mr. Alderson. Based on the police report and your cooperation, I have enough now to try to downgrade to a trespassing charge. We aren’t in the city, so I don’t know anything about the judge on the docket. I’m going to make a few calls and see if I can find anything out.

“Elliot should be out of booking by now and in a holding room.”

“Can I see him?”

“Not until I do.”

“Charles Y/L/N?” interrupted a policeman who introduced himself as Captain Neiley. “The Chief told me to make sure you had anything you needed—Tony gave him a call early this morning.”

“Thank you,” Dad replied earnestly, shaking the Captain’s hand.

Because of my father’s connections, I soon found myself peering into a small, concrete room from behind the glass of a very small window, much smaller than the ones on television, as Elliot, or rather Mr. Robot, interacted with Thea.

I could tell it was not going well by the twist of Thea’s mouth and by the way Mr. Robot refused to look in her direction, much less sit down and talk to her. He was distrustful, and clearly, angry.

I looked around for an officer and when I found one, I asked her if she could get my attorney out. She nodded and unlocked the door, signaling for Thea.

“You shouldn’t be here right now, Y/N.”

“He’ll talk, but not to you … not yet. I need to tell him it’s safe.”

Thea sighed and bowed her head. She shrugged her shoulders as she looked back up and answered, “Go ahead. But anything he says to you is not going to help—he needs to talk to me.”

The officer opened the door again and when I walked into the room, I saw that Mr. Robot had finally sat down. As he looked at me, a war started to take place behind his eyes. He was silent for a long, long time and I just stood by the door with my back pressed against it, waiting to see if Mr. Robot would let go.

Finally, I saw it—the same subtle fluttering of his eyes as the night in my apartment.

“Y/N?” Elliot asked, both his voice and his eyes raw with vulnerability.

“Elliot,” I stated, unable to hold back my tears at finally seeing him again.

“I’m here to help, El,” I choked out, “but you—all of you--have to let me help you.”

Elliot’s eyes filled with pools of tears before he shifted, his gaze on the steel of the table and his hands cradling his head.

“I can’t remember … only fragments and—” he looked up suddenly, his face turning to stare into the empty corner of the room where Mr. Robot had been standing before he sat down.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Elliot’s head whipped back in my direction, his eyes widening, his mouth falling open in horror.

“I know about Mr. Robot. It’s okay, Elliot. I’ve met him.”

“No—nobody knows about him.”

“He protects you.”

“Can you see him, too?”

“No, El. I can’t. I just know … it’s hard to explain, but I know you sometimes see him. It’s rare, but sometimes that’s just what happens with people like you.”

“In my mind,” Elliot groaned. “He’s only supposed to be in my mind.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry things have gotten this bad.”

“Oh god,” he moaned, his hands pulling hard at his hair as he rocked back in his seat. “I’m crazy—I’m a fucking schizo and you’re committing me.”

“Tell him what happened tonight,” I said, my eyes flicking to the corner to indicate I wanted Mr. Robot to talk to Elliot.

Elliot looked to the corner again. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the room was silent. Whatever happened between Elliot and Mr. Robot did, indeed, only happen in his mind.

As I waited, I thought back to my research on DID, and I knew Elliot was in an extremely vulnerable state. I also knew what it meant to have his alters interact with me—I needed to be very careful not to break Mr. Robot’s trust since we had made a deal.

After a few minutes passed, Elliot sprang out of his chair and leapt toward the wall, his fist slamming into the concrete with a sick thud.

Elliot left his fist against the wall and leaned into it, tears streaming down his face as he broke down.

I rushed to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, molding my body to his and pressing into his back.

“It’s okay, Elliot. It’s okay. I’m here,” I soothed, my own tears flowing in a fresh wave because of his pain.

His hand fell away from the wall and he brought it to rest over my arms.

I pulled him away from the wall and turned him to face me, his legs buckling and both of us sliding to the floor. I pulled him to me, so much like that night in my closet during the Fourth of July.

“I’m here. I’m here, Elliot. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry,” he said, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into my neck, his tears wet and smearing into my skin.

“He didn’t give me a choice—I had to do the ha—”

“You can’t talk about any of that right now. Not until you talk to the lawyer.”

“I hurt you—your father, your family,” Elliot said, his voice a dull rasp as he finally looked up at me, his cheeks a wet mess. I shifted to my knees so I could cradle his face in my hands; I wiped at his tears, careful to avoid the bruise on his cheek that had changed from red to an ugly burgundy, smoothed his brows, and swiped at his nose with the sleeve of my sweater.

As I touched him, he hiccupped, his breath evening out as he pulled himself together.

I kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose.

“Listen,” I said, holding his face in my hands and pushing his chin up with my thumbs. “I need you to talk to Thea, our lawyer. She’s going to help us.”

“Us,” Elliot whispered, a single tear falling from the corner of his eye and sliding down the side of my thumb.

“For now, but Mr. Robot wants me to let you go.”

Elliot frowned and leaned back, his head resting on the wall as I let my hands fall away from his face. A part of him clearly still hoped I could be in this with him, but we both knew I couldn’t be.

“I’m so tired of fighting him, Y/N. He’s … persistent.”

“Yeah. So I noticed,” I said with a quick upturn of my lips, watching as Elliot’s eyes continued to look at the ceiling.

“You need to be the one to talk to Thea. Mr. Robot needs to let you stay in control. Will you, and I mean YOU, I said waving in the direction of Mr. Robot but keeping my eyes trained on Elliot’s face, stay buried so he can get out of this mess?”

Elliot looked over and up at Mr. Robot with a ferocity I hadn’t seen before.

His eyes returned to mine and he nodded.

“There’s something else.”

Elliot’s brows contracted as he looked at my face.

I moved close to him, slowly wrapping my arms around his neck in a hug. I turned toward his ear, whispering, “The data dump on the Dark Web—can you make it disappear?”

Elliot pulled me into the hug, his mouth nestling in next to my ear as he reached up to grasp my hair, burying his face in it.

“I built a security during the hack. If a password wasn’t entered every 45 minutes, the data would disappear from the Market. It’s gone now.”

I squeezed him and he tightened his grip as he inhaled, trying to lose himself in the scent of me.

“Just like that night I needed to find you. Coney Island. You left your computer logged on.”

“Yes,” he answered, his confirmation a low, comforting rumble.

“Can you—will you stay with me until this is all over?”

“Thea has to talk to you alone, but I’ll be right outside. I’ll go every step of the way that I can with you—as long as Mr. Robot lets me.”

Elliot swallowed thickly, and I pulled away from him. We looked into each other’s eyes until the door opened, then he cast his gaze to the floor.

“Ready to talk, Mr. Alderson?”

* * * * *

Over an hour later, I almost jumped out of my skin when Thea finally emerged from the holding room.

Dad had insisted I eat something, but since I refused to leave, he ran out and got breakfast. I ate enough to make him satisfied, but just as I rounded the corner to throw away our trash, I heard the door open.

I rushed back and caught the door, needing to see Elliot again.

“You’re right, Y/N,” Thea said quietly. “Elliot doesn’t belong in prison, but he needs, at a minimum, a few months of court-mandated therapy. He … destroyed some servers at CIStech?”

My dad frowned, remembering the incident that brought Elliot and I together.

“It was never a romantic story to begin with, Dad,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

I turned my attention back to Thea and asked what that had to do with anything.

“You took care of that one, huh?”

“I did.”

Thea looked at me for a long moment, then began, “There is no way for the DA to prove that Elliot had the intent of committing a criminal act while on your property unless you or your dad have something—”

“We don’t.”

My father shook his head no, and Thea’s mouth quirked up at the corner, “Of course not.”

“How long will this take?”

“I’m taking my offer to the DA now. If they agree to it, the judge may rule at arraignment and this whole thing could be over today.”

“Thank you, Thea. Can I say goodbye?”

“Be quick because Elliot is going to be moved to a holding room outside of the court, soon. I’ll see you over there.”

“Thank you,” I said again before pulling the door open.

Before the door even shut, Elliot stood and began pacing, his voice raspy with overuse as he started talking.

“I have to give you up. He’s not going to leave me alone until I do. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything I did. I’m sorry for letting him do this to you. I’m sorry—"

“Elliot, slow down,” I said as I crossed the room and intercepted his pacing. He stopped with a start in front of me and stuffed his hands in his hoodie’s pockets.

I reached out and lightly squeezed his shoulders, moving my hands down his biceps, and over his forearms. I felt him relax under my repetitive touches, and when it was clear he wasn’t about to climb the wall, I stepped closer and slid my hands into his hoodie’s pockets.

“How’s your hand?” I asked, feeling the swollen knuckles of his right hand in comparison to the unaffected left.

“That’s how this whole thing started,” Elliot said, pulling both of our hands out of his pockets. His shook as he held onto mine. “You took such good care of me.”

“I kept you prisoner in my apartment.”

“And here we are now,” Elliot said with a small smile.

My heart ached at how easy this was with him … how easy it was when it was just him.

“I hate this,” Elliot said in agony as he searched my face, surely sensing that I was on the verge of falling apart again.

I looked into his big grey eyes and let myself get lost, swept back into the love I felt for him, knowing this could be the last time I ever saw him.

“I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry for whatever happened that made you need Mr. Robot. You need to figure out what’s at the root of all of this, why you keep forgetting, and I’m not the one who can do that for you. But you know what? I am going to make sure you have a real chance at getting professional help.”

“I know,” Elliot said, lowering his eyes but still holding on to my hands.

“Know what else? I love you.”

Elliot’s eyes snapped back up to mine, and again, I saw a fierce determination unlike anything I’d ever seen in his eyes before.

“I’m gonna be happy with you someday, Y/N. I’m gonna love you like you love me.”

I held his gaze as I shook off the grip of his hands to reach up and cradle his face.

“You have to love yourself first, Elliot. Mr. Robot is never going to let go of his control as long as you need him to…meet whatever need it is you need met.”

“I’m never going to forget you loved me first—never.”

As if all the pieces of my heart weren’t already broken, I knew that wasn’t true. Mr. Robot was going to delete me. Elliot was never going to remember that someone loved him first. All I could hope for was that Mr. Robot was listening right now, a part of him feeling compassionate enough to allow Elliot to one day restore a previous version of himself, this version.

“Will you wait for me? I know I don’t have a right to ask, but have I earned the right to hope that you will?”

Before I could answer him, an officer opened the door and said it was time to move to the courthouse.

I melted into Elliot’s arms, and he hugged me. I felt determination radiate from him.

He’s so much stronger than Mr. Robot thinks.

I pulled back, knowing the officer was waiting, and I reached up to cup his face one more time. I memorized his face until my eyes filled with tears and he became a blur. I blinked away those tears and I tried to absorb the love that so clearly emanated from his beautiful eyes.

I leaned in to kiss Elliot, and he pressed his entire body into mine, molding his lips against mine as if our mouths had been designed from conception just to connect like this in this single moment.

I knew he could taste the salt of my tears as I broke the kiss and managed to look at him one last time before my vision blurred again and I rushed out the door. I only just made it to the bathroom in time to throw up everything I ate, and as I knelt on the worn, green and white bathroom floor, surrounded by the smell of bleach that tried its best to cover up the stench of urine and failed, my grief finally pulled me under and I let myself drown. Then, for the second time in less than a week, I felt my father’s arms tighten around me as I fell apart.

—Narrator—

November 2014

Mr. Robot whispered to Elliot as he worked, reassuring him this was for the best. Seeing Darlene on Halloween for the first time in over five months reopened a chasm of loneliness Elliot hadn’t felt since—

“You’re really fucking this up, kiddo,” Mr. Robot said from where he was leaning against the wall. “This is what happens when you don’t stick to the plan. You’ve got to get that job at Allsafe with Angela.”

“I know. For fuck’s sake, I know,” Elliot growled as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

His hand reached to click the mouse as he dragged all of the pictures on his phone onto the CD sitting in his drive.

“No, son,” Mr. Robot said as Elliot popped the disk out of the drive. “You’re not done yet.”

Elliot looked at him, his brows drawn in confusion.

“Why can’t you just tell me why we have to keep doing this?”

“You’re not ready to know, Elliot. You created me to be your protector; you have to trust me to do what’s best to keep you safe. So … be a part of this, or I can do it myself. Either way, everything, except Angela, has got to go.”

As Elliot pushed the CD that would hold all of his memories back into the drive, Master Mind watched.

And more importantly, Master Mind waited.

He knew he had one chance at this, exactly one chance to take control and to fix everything Mr. Robot had done. He had one chance to make the world a place where Elliot could finally be happy without condition. He had one chance to restore Elliot’s previous version, effectively recovering all the data Mr. Robot had been deleting over the past few months.

“Alright, kiddo,” Mr. Robot said as Elliot tucked the unlabeled CD into the otherwise empty black binder and tossed it to the floor, kicking it under his bookshelf. “It’s time.

Elliot took a deep breath as he prepared to relinquish control to Mr. Robot, trusting in his protector, but just before Mr. Robot could take over, Master Mind seized his chance.

Elliot’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, but it was too late; as Master Mind took complete control for the first time, Elliot slipped into a black void.

* * * * *

Elliot Alderson sat in the waiting room of the third cybersecurity firm he had interviewed with. This one, though, seemed different. He liked that it didn’t hide who it was.

“CIStech: Always Vigilant” read the sign on the glass door he had pushed open only a few minutes ago.

Yes, Elliot decided he definitely liked this company, so far. Being vigilant was smart. Too many people were happy to live without awareness, happy to live in their bubbles of the naïve just so they could feel good until someone told them what else they neededto have to keep feeling good.*

Elliot cleared his throat as he heard his name announced over the intercom at the secretary’s desk.

“Jayne? Bring in Mr. Alderson, please.”

He was drawn to that voice on the intercom. He liked it—confident, but kind.

Elliot shifted in his seat, ready to stand.

He took a deep breath as he followed the secretary into what was clearly meant to be a friendly, comfortable atmosphere. Instead of a large panel of interviewers, it was just three people. Instead of interviewing in a board room, it was in an office with a round table.

Like equals, Elliot thought. Except they’ve got the power to decide what happens next in my life.

“Mr. Alderson,” a man began, extending his hand. “I’m Colin Greene, Supervisor.

Fuck. They’re hand-shakers.

Elliot followed protocol, reminding himself that his was how to play the game. He shook the second Supervisor’s hand, and then—

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, Senior Manager.”

Elliot stared at Y/N, finally remembering that she was waiting for him to shake her hand, but Elliot felt afraid to touch her.

What if I touch her and she disappears? Like some kind of dream?

Elliot almost laughed out loud at that thought, but something pulsed inside of him, something that made him long to touch this stranger who seemed so familiar to him, who seemed like someone so much more important than a Supervisor at a mediocre cybersecurity firm.

A surge of excitement coursed through Elliot as he extended his hand, not knowing what was going to happen next. As his eyes locked onto the stranger’s, he watched as a sweet smile pulled at her lips, a smile that made him feel safe.

And for a reason he couldn’t explain, made him feel loved.

GIF Credit: @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r

A/N 2.0: Thank you, thank you, thank you for going on this journey with me. Your comments, likes, and reblogs kept me moving along even when I wanted nothing more than to throw my computer out of the window and give up. I put a lot into this story, and it is the longest thing I’ve ever written. I would love to know how you felt about the story or if you have anything you want to ask/discuss, so hit me up with a comment or an ask.

I love Elliot, and I am so glad you do, too. Thank you for indulging me, as always. -xMx ❤️

Tags: @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @teamwolf2411 @limabein @txmel @alottanothing @ouatlovr @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @moon-stars-soul @free-rami @ramimedley @hopplessdreamer @sweet-charmie @polarcrystall @hah0106 @clumsybookworm18 @diasimar @ramisgirl512 @aboutthatmelancholystorm

And a special thank you tag to my cheerleader who gives me the best comments with so many pterodactyl screeches that my heart soars every time I read them. Thank you @alottanothing!

A/N 3.0: All of my research on DID indicates that while there are many commonalities, every system is pretty unique. For example, while many folks who have DID may have a “protector” figure, their protector will function uniquely for the needs of their system. The way I treated DID in this particular fic is a combination of my informal research and just taking what Sam Esmail gave us and working within his parameters. It’s actually super uncommon for alters to manifest and be “seen,” but I stuck with that idea because it was Sam’s and was so integral to the show. I am a singleton, so I am not an expert, nor do I claim to be an authority of any kind when it comes to the incredible complexities of being a system.

#Elliot Alderson #elliot alderson x reader #elliot alderson fanfic #rami malek #rami malek character #mr robot #mr robot fanfiction #mr. robot #mr. robot fanfiction

92 notes · View notes

geckolady · 3 years

Text

Skulduggery Pleasant: Raising Cain - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - Clues and progress

They got to the car they borrowed and had to call a taxi to help get them all back to Gordon’s. They decided to rest for a little while before heading out and Crow went upstairs to remove the body which would be collected by the Sanctuary Cleavers and then cleaned up what he could, Wolf helping him.

Panda sat carefully at the kitchen table, looking at her nervously try to think up something to eat. She could make little bits, her and Gordon had been learning things slowly as a way of spending time together and also so Gordon wouldn’t forget to make food as often, Stephanie would remind him to spend time with her. It made her chest ache for him for a moment. She still loved him, but he had set up everything so she could move on quickly and she intended to make him proud.

She found some rice, tinned tomatoes, passata, cheese and mozzarella after a while and after digging out the recipe from the messed-up folder they had created together. Panda helped her work out how much food they needed for six, then decided after a moment to add on another two portions considering they were all so big and they were all so hungry.

It took a while to make and she had had to replace some passata with tin tomatoes, which were meant to be fresh anyway, and there defiantly wasn’t enough mozzarella, but with cheese on top and the fact it was alright tasting and there was more than enough for everyone, she was the star of the night and everyone doted on her. She’d always thought cooking for people was boring, but they made it fun, and Panda had done all the onion chopping so it wasn’t too horrible.

When they had all finished the meal – Stephanie had forced Crow to sit with them – they all went their various ways to relax. They had made sure to have two on night duty as well as Crow at all times but Stephanie was not involved though she didn’t complain with that, as the others would also be doing washing, drying and putting away since she cooked.

She washed for a long time in the shower, finding a lot of bruise and feeling a lot more aches than she realised she had. There was a particularly big yellowing bruise on her butt cheek she had no idea about but it didn’t hurt and too soon she was out the shower and in her massive, fluffy towel. She took the old nail varnish off her toes and couldn’t be bothered to repaint them after filing so she finished up, including her teeth and putting away the things she’d used in the draws, although they had no real home so it wasn’t exactly organised.

She didn’t care though so she took her clothes back to her room with her towel around her. She was sort of embarrassed to get waved at by Weasel who was going into his room someway down the hall as she was used to sleeping on a whole different floor to Gordon and had even walked, quiet freely, from the bathroom to her room naked without fear of being spotted in the past. She wouldn’t be able to do that anymore, which was disappointing in a weird way. Walking around naked was fun.

She shook the strange thoughts from her mind and went to her room with her massive super king bed and beautiful sheets and all her pillows and throws in various colours and materials, some gifts from her friends, others artfully picked by Gordon. The four-poster had semi-transparent white curtains she always had the tied up. When she was younger they had been the best thing in the room.

She had a desk and fairly new computer though the monitor was the same one from years ago, possibly from before she was born, a desk that went across the span of the room held up with massive screws and brackets rather than legs, giving the allusion of a lot of space. She had a vanity and massive walk in wardrobe with custom shelves, hanging space and shoe space that had never been full but she still loved for the fact it was over the top and made her feel important.

She changed into new pyjamas and got under the covers. She slept soundly.

She had a vague dream of Gordon that night, nothing of importance, no particular event, but she dreamt of Gordon, her and her boys. That’s what she called them in her dream and as soon as she awoke, she remembered that and not much of the dream itself. She decided that was what they were. She was their girl and they were her boys, her bothers. Sure, it wasn’t a perfect name for them, but it was the feel more so than the name itself.

She didn’t bother changing from her shorts and massive t-shirt Gordon had handed down to her some years ago, just grabbed her Panda toy to show Panda and slowly rubbed her eyes and went downstairs.

They were all in the kitchen, Bear, Panda and Weasel mumbling over tea, Crow reading a newspaper and the others far too excited for the morning and making up a big meal for them all. Stephanie sat on Bears lap and he moved back to give her room and was in a good enough mood to even wrap one arm back around her so it rested on her opposite hip, basically hugging her. Such a big, bad man, so feared across the land, and here he was, grumpy, drinking black tea and cuddling her.

“Cub!” Wolf said when he turned around. He was wearing an apron that said ‘I’ve been a naught cook’ on it and started laughing. “What do you want for breakfast?”

She stifled her laughs. “Whatever’s going I guess.”

“A full Irish, coming up.”

“Well, not a full one,” Crow pointed out over his paper.

“No,” Snake agreed. “But it’s pretty close.”

Stephanie listened to them argue over breakfast and noticed she was the last down and only one that hadn’t gotten dressed. Looking at the clock, she noticed it was ten o’clock and they must have been waiting for her.

She was given her food not long after and when they had all eaten and she’d helped putting things in the correct place when it was washed, she ran and got herself ready for the day. Back in her protective clothes, she came back to the kitchen to reconvene and found them inspecting her Panda bear.

“Hey!” She said, making them jump. “Don’t touch my Pandy!”

Wolf put it in the middle of the table. “I just wanted to see Ghastly’s namesake is all.”

“Yeah, just curious,” Snake said.

“Which is totally allowed,” Weasel pointed out. “So don’t get mad.”

“Yeah, but this is special. It was made for me and it’s special and you can’t hurt it,” she told them. “Anyway, I wanted to show Panda.”

“He saw it earlier,” Crow said, coming in from the living room. “He said it brought back memories of the wild animals his father made for him as a child. I think he wishes he made you more now.”

“He made me tones of stuff. I have almost everything you ever got me upstairs. Even the nonsense stuff you gave me.”

“They weren’t nonsense,” Crow muttered and left the room. “We’re leaving in five so get ready.”

Stephanie put her old toy, which was quite beaten up but still cute, at the end of the table and they got into the Bentley and the van and made their way down to the coast.

They stopped near her aunt and uncles place and Stephanie looked out the window at the nice little house. It was deceiving, how quaint it looked considering how bad the people within it had been to her on occasion. She was hardly Harry Potter but she deserved a little better from them, at least.

“Can’t we just steal it? I want to break in,” she told them.

“Stop whining. You get to steal it now, just walk over, go in, steal it and leave. Done,” Crow told her.

“It’s not the same and you know it,” she said, but got out the car, accepting that she was about to embarrass herself greatly in front of everyone.

She knocked on the door and waited until Fergus opened it. “Oh,” he said.

“Yeah. I was wondering how you were?” She asked. It sounded more like she was questioning the question. She certainly was.

“Uh, we’re fine. How are you?”

“Grand, grand. Um, could I use your bathroom?” She blurted out, wanting to get it over with.

He looked at her suspiciously. “Why? What are you up to?”

She frowned meanly at him. “Nothing. I went for a walk at the coast, needed to pee and came here. Is that so bad?”

He made a grunt noise but let her in and she bolted up the stairs to the bathroom. She closed the door and then listened carefully, hearing him call Beryl’s name and her shout back from the kitchen. She crept from the bathroom to her Aunt and Uncles room and searched the jewellery box. She found it quickly, flushed the loo and ran down the stairs.

“Thank you!” She called and closed the door on her way out.

She walked at a normal speed until she was sure Beryl couldn’t spy on her and then ran to the car and got in.

“That was not fun. I hope you understand that.”

“I don’t,” Crow said. “Now let’s go.”

They travelled back to the mansion and found it thankfully clear of intruders. The basement only took a moment to search with all seven of them and they used the key to get in, Stephanie getting to do the honours. It smelt dank and wet and felt frigidly cold.

They couldn’t all go in as there were monsters within would sense their magic, so Stephanie, Crow and Wolf would enter and the others would stay behind to guard and keep them hidden since they didn’t know if Serpine knew of the caves yet and if it gave them a few moments to get the Sceptre’s alliance to them first, it would be the edge they needed.

It felt slow at first, being in the cavernous maze and just slowly wandering around, finding boring plants and fungus everywhere. She had been instructed not to touch any as it was as dangerous as the sentient things down there. Maybe more so.

Stephanie pulled out the little torch she had stashed away in her jacket and they used it to pass a little stream type thing, and to avoid a massive tendril that was moving silently and might have been a snake though she honestly couldn’t tell. They couldn’t use magic, so her torch was invaluable. When they heard noises up ahead she clicked it off and they pressed into the shadows, Wolf’s hand on her shoulder.

The monster passed them with slow, powerful sweeps of its paws – a single claw was bigger than her foot. They waited for it to go around the corner and Wolf let her go and they began running through the dark halls with the torch to help them. Eventually they stumbled across a Snickers wrapper.

“Gordon,” Stephanie said, almost welling with emotion but holding it back resolutely.

“A clue,” Crow said. “We’re on the right track.”

They carefully followed the cave system further down into the dark and they were relying solely on Stephanie’s light for guidance. They reached a large space at the end with three other corridors and an overhang above them. In the centre of the room was the Sceptre.

Crow carefully checked the air with his magic and then nodded to them. They had already decided that Crow should be the one to touch the Sceptre first since he had the most control and would be the hardest for Serpine to kill. He strode forwards and the thing started to sing. He picked it up. It… did nothing.

How anticlimactic.

“Boring,” Wolf said, stretching. “Time to go.”

They left the caves at a jog and Stephanie was incredibly surprised to find everyone above perfectly fine and healthy. They hadn’t even spotted cars around the walls. Bear said it was too quiet, but they were grateful nonetheless and sat around the living room to think of their next move, the Sceptre sitting innocently, and loudly, on the coffee table.

“It needs to be destroyed,” Bear said. “It has no place existing, especially now Serpine is after it.”

“It’s a valuable weapon though. It could be an asset in stopping Serpine,” Weasel suggested though didn’t seem too happy with it.

“I think we should destroy it as soon as Serpine is dead,” Crow said. “It is an asset, and if we could get it assessed first, prove its existence, we can kill Serpine without consequences.”

Wolf shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of destroying it, but it’s too dangerous.”

Panda nodded. “Dexter’s right. I know you want to be certain we can kill him Skul, we all do, but this isn’t the way.”

Stephanie put her hand on Crow’s gently. “It’s way too dangerous. We might not get another chance to destroy it and if someone else gets it, it’d be awful.”

He was quiet as he thought about it. “I suppose you are right. The risk is too great. But that means we need to know how to destroy it.”

Panda stood up. “I think it’s time I paid a visit to the family Vault. Who else wants to go?”

In the end, Panda, Stephanie and Crow decided to go to his family Vault while Bear went to the Sanctuary to try and convince the Elders of the Serpine’s actions. The others would stay where they were to guard the house and Sceptre. It was a fairly long drive to The Vault and on the way Panda and Crow explained a few things.

“The Vault is not a place that is gone in lightly or often,” Panda told her. “My family have collected things over centuries and I have only been in their twice myself. My mother didn’t even go in there as it was from my father’s side and they were always too protective over it.”

“Why are you bringing me and Crow then?”

“You’re family,” he said. “And that one won’t let me not take him.”

She laughed. “What stuff did they collect?”

He shrugged. “Mostly paintings, but they were very interested in the Ancients, which we told you about already, so hopefully they will have something in there that can tell us about destroying it.”

They got to the art gallery in good time and caught the guards before they were leaving, allowing Panda to show his documentation, though it was unnecessary since it was impossible not to recognise him, and they waited for them to open the massive metal door, and it was shut after them, so they could browse.

It wasn’t as big as Stephanie had assumed it would be, but it was still packed with things, all valuable looking. There was art everywhere, some of what she assumed was the most valuable on the walls, and cases of clothes, jewels, piles of books and a massive oval table and chairs in the centre though upon the surface was more things she couldn’t identify.

“Where do we start?” Stephanie asked.

“I’ll start over here,” Panda said, walking to one of the corners.

“You look at the paintings,” Crow told her. “If you find anything relating to the Ancients that might be useful, tell us.”

She nodded and got started on the nearest rack of paintings. They were very expensive and she did her best to handle them with care, the way Gordon had taught her when they had gone through his collection one time. Panda found some maps in his corner they thought could have been places the Sceptre might have been found at one time, though they had no way of checking since they had the Sceptre. They did put them carefully on a chair for photographs though, just in case there was more information about the Sceptre in those places. It must have been almost twenty minutes later that Stephanie found a picture of it.

“I found something,” she said. “But it’s just someone using the Sceptre, not anything about destroying.”

“Tell me about it,” Crow said, his voice muffled as he was bent straight over into a chest.

“It’s a man, and he’s reaching for the Sceptre. It’s sort of hovering just out of reach, and it’s glowing.”

“Is there anything strange about him?” Panda asked, looking through scrolls.

“Yeah… he’s shielding his eyes but they’re both wide open. He looks kind of crazed actually.”

“What does that mean?” Crow asked her, pulling himself from the chest.

“Well, you’d expect him to be squinting, you know? There’s so much detail, there’s no reason the painter wouldn’t make him squint.”

“Anything else strike you as odd?”

She looked it over again. “The shadows.”

“What about them?”

“There’s two. And the Sceptre isn’t making them, the angles are wrong. Maybe the sun?” She suggested as he came over to look too.

“Yes, but what time of day would it be?”

“The shadow at his feet would make it noon, making the sun overhead, but the shadow behind him would make it morning or evening.”

“Which one?”

“How am I meant to know?” She frowned at him, seeing he wasn’t looking at the painting at all, actually playing with a little box. “Maybe morning.”

“So, you are looking at a man who is reaching for the Sceptre in the past and present, seeing everything at once.”

“I suppose so. What does that have to do with the box you’re messing with?”

“Who painted it?” Crow asked. “Ghastly, get over here.”

“There’s a crest. Leopard and crossed swords,” she said.

He lifted the box and showed them the same crest. “Whoever, family or individual, made that painting, also made this Puzzle Box. People like to put things in Puzzle Boxes that might help us in our quest for information. It’s another clue, Stephanie.”

He played with it a little more and then rested it flat on his palm. It clicked and there was a high pitch motorising sound before the top opened and they saw a little blue stone inside.

1 note · View note

casgetoutofmyass0907 · 3 years

Text

“Playing Games”

New Fic is up on my ao3: “Playing Games”

Summary: Dean and Castiel have a prank war, do I have to say more?

“If you get me his phone, I might reconsider,” Dean said to Sam, a sly smile plastered on his face.

Sam looked up from his computer to look at Castiel, who was passed out on the couch from drinking too many beers. Being human has its faults, and Cas was a lightweight when it came to drinking. “Seriously Dean? You won’t place an order for pizza unless I steal Cas’s phone?” Sam says before looking at his brother, who was now grinning like a child, elbows placed on the table and his head in his hands as he straws at Sam.

“Mhmm. Come on Sammy, you go steal his phone so I can fill his camera roll with random pictures, and then I will order the pizza.”

Dean and Cas had been pulling pranks on each other for well over a week now. They were dumb, childish pranks, but it allowed them to have some fun in between hunts. Cas was drunk so it was the opportune time for Dean to make his next move.

Sam scoffed and went back to his computer, looking for a new case. “No, Dean. I’m not getting in the middle of your prank war. I’m glad you’re having fun and all but leave me out of it.”

Dean’s smile faded as he recalled the last prank Cas had pulled. “He put shaving cream on a piece of pie yesterday.” Sam looked up from his computer once again, unamused having heard this story five times already today. “Shaving cream, Sam.”

“Yes, Dean I know. You told me already”

Dean continued retelling the story, ignoring the fact that Sam was trying to speak. “It was a beautiful piece of warm apple pie, and I was very excited about it, but he went and ruined it with shaving cream.” Dean faked a shudder “I can still taste it.”

Sam couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he went back to typing. “I’m not stealing his phone. You can do that yourself.”

“He went too far this time! No one messes with my pie and gets away with it. I would appreciate your support on this man.” Dean leaned back in his chair, raising a lukewarm beer to his lips and taking a drink. He grimaced at the taste, he was never a fan of warm beer but he would drink it if he had to.

“I’m still not stealing his phone.”

Dean groaned as he pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. “Fine, I’ll do it myself. I’ll remember this next time you need help with anything for Eileen.”

Dean made his way towards Cas, who was snoring lightly as he slept. Once he reached Cas, Dean carefully lifted Cas’s trench coat to reach his hand into the inside pocket where his phone usually resides. He was surprised to find the pocket empty and began to place the coat back. Dean frowned as he looked around, thinking that Cas may have left his phone on the table next to the couch, or that it fell out of his pocket. He was about to give up before he looked back at Cas, who had shifted and was now laying on his side facing the back of the couch, trench coat hanging over his side nearly touching the floor. His shirt had come untucked and was pulled up, exposing part of Cas’s lower back. Dean smiled as he looked at his boyfriend, sleeping peacefully, he let his eyes trail down to the sliver of exposed skin only to see that Cas was wearing jeans as opposed to his usual black slacks.

Dean’s smile grew as he saw Cas’s phone in his back pocket. He walked back over to the couch and carefully pulled the phone out of the pocket, pausing when Cas started to stir. Once Cas settled back into the couch and Dean heard his soft snoring again he pulled the phone the rest of the way out.

Dean turned around to look at Sam, holding the phone up as if he won the lottery and was showing off the winning ticket. “Got it!”

“Good for you Dean, now you can use it to order pizza. Extra onions.” Sam closed his computer and rubbed his eyes.

“Ew, I’ll order it, only so you don’t ruin it with onions. You know I don’t like them on my pizza.” Dean scrunched his face and unlocked Cas’s phone, the password was Dean’s birthday 0124. He dialed the number for their favorite pizza joint down the street, hoping they would still be open. He was excited when the line stopped ringing and he heard a “hello” on the other end.

“Hi, can I place an order for pick up? A large pizza, half meat lover’s half supreme, and some cheesy breadsticks.” Those were Cas’s favorite, they would make for good hangover food, Cas was going to need it.

“That will be ready in 20 minutes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

~~~~

Castiel’s head was pounding as he swiped through the pictures on his phone. “I can’t believe you took 200 selfies.” He swiped a few more times and stopped on a picture of Dean sticking his tongue out with his eyes crossed. “What are you even doing in this one?”

Cas handed his phone to Dean, who was trying hard not to laugh, as he took a bite out of a cold breadstick. He moaned at the taste, at least something good came out of last night.

“That’s what you get for ruining a perfectly good piece of pie. You’re lucky I love you and didn’t mess with your breadsticks and chose to fill your camera roll with pictures of my beautiful face instead.” Dean turned the phone off and set it on the side table to his right.

“Well thank you for that. These are just what I needed after last night. One downfall of being human is the hangovers” Cas leaned back on the couch, letting his head fall back, and closed his eyes, popping the last of his breadstick in his mouth. “And headaches”

Dean laughed and rested his head on Cas’s shoulder, closing his own eyes. Cas smelled like beer and cheese but Dean didn’t mind, he was just happy to have a loving boyfriend, who was also his best friend, to lay his head on. He never thought that he and Cas would be where they were now. They had been through so much in the 12 years they have known each other, but now everything was going good for once, so they took a minute to just lean on each other, to be there for each other. Even if they were both still half-drunk from the previous night.

Their days were filled with small jokes, Dean hid Cas’s toothbrush one day, the next Cas filled Dean’s room with balloons. Sam would occasionally help, like the day Dean filled Cas’s bed with plastic snakes or when Cas placed a hundred sticky notes on the windshield of Baby. Dean got Cas back for that prank by spending a whole day pretending to lean in for a kiss but would turn away or grab something from behind Cas before their lips made contact.

Castiel was better at the pranks than Dean, and this time he may have taken it a bit too far.

“CAS GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!”

Dean gave up on trying to brush the glitter off of his shirt. He had managed to get some of it off of his face but hadn’t even tried to shake it out of his hair. Cas had managed to set a trap so that a pound of glitter would fall on him when he opened the door, and now there was glitter everywhere. Dean was considering just switching rooms because there was no way he would be able to get rid of all the fine flakes.

Cas came into the room laughing, Sam trailing behind him wiping tears from his eyes. “You were in on this?” Dean asked in disbelief.

“Who do you think put the glitter above the door frame? Cas isn’t tall enough and we don’t own a ladder.” Sam replied with a shrug.

“You said you weren’t getting in the middle of it!”

“I wasn’t going to, but I wasn’t going to say no to you being covered in glitter.” Sam’s smile grew more as he leaned against the door frame, careful to avoid any glitter that may be on the wooden surface.

“Sorry Dean, but you started this. Maybe you shouldn't have put plastic wrap on the toilet seat and I wouldn’t have felt the need to get you back by putting salt in your coffee.” Cas said as he tried to keep himself from laughing at Dean, who was very sparkly and clearly not amused.

“Unbelievable,” Dean said with a shake of his head, frowning as he tried to shake some of the glitter from his hair. He was annoyed but he smirked as he said “You know I love you, Cas.”

Castiel’s smile faded when he realized what Dean was planning and he took off running down the hallway. Dean threw a handful of glitter at Sam as he took off after Cas. Cas could outrun a lot of things, but Dean was faster, so when he caught up he threw his arms around Cas transferring some of the glitter onto him. “Damnit Dean, really?”

“I just wanted to give you a hug.” Dean flipped Cas around so they were face to face as he pulled his boyfriend into a bear hug, rubbing his glitter-filled hair over Cas’s face and neck.

They were sweeping glitter out of Dean’s room and the hallways for weeks. “I hate glitter. It’s like a pest, and now we are infested because someone decided it was a good idea to dump a shit ton of it on me.” Dean said as he gave a side-eyed glance to Cas and Sam, blowing a flake of it off of his bacon.

“I happen to love picking pieces of it off of you when we-”

“Okay! I’ve heard enough. I don’t need the details of your extracurriculars.” Sam interrupted Cas before he could finish his sentence, and took a sip of his coffee, trying to erase the mental image Cas planted in his head.

Dean and Cas exchanged a look before they both burst out laughing.

#Destiel #PrankWar #FanFic

5 notes · View notes

ilguna · 4 years

Text

i also have a list of shit my history teacher (this year) has said and done so I will share it with you:

warning: its really fucking long bc he would say/do shit MULTIPLE times a day

goes onto the next slide, “it’s a meme, get it?” proceeds to explain the meme (its the hey arnold meme with the first)

also goes onto another slide, with the twitter opinion meme. at the end of the paragraph it says “this class smacks, I’m lit”

“I’m going to beat up your brother. i am going to pummel him.”

On the 6th day of class he finally realized that there was a total of 6 guys and the rest were girls

student: “You should not put it in (as an assingment)”. teacher; “laugh out loud, im dead”

he was teaching us how to write a DBQ, the computer had a pop up saying that the battery was low, and then a spider shows up out of fucking nowhere, hanging from the ceiling. he CLAPS it, jokes about eating it, and then sets it on his desk (not in the trash can 2 feet away) so he can “deal with it later”

his endless military stories, specifically ORANGE DESERT

he wrote “if you would have had your thinking skull on” on my first DBQ

him saying “I hate this” after typing a word wrong multiple times while teaching us DBQ’s lmfao

“For the lols”

Threw a box of tissues across the room into the trash can

threw a box of tissues at a student

he had this obsession with throwing expo markers at his whiteboard, trying to make it land on the metal part so expect that a lot.

“Do you want me to drown him in a bathtub?” (which was about a student’s dog that had separation anxiety lmaoo)

Sang the rain drop, drop top song

The collars on his shirt turned up

“He’ll be beaten for that distraction” (after his son called him during his lesson and he willingly answered)

“Stay woke”

“It was a hot boy summer for him”

expo marker landed on the metal thing for once thanks to a towel that was there

kyle (it must have been a story or something i dont remember)

He woah’d at some point

HAHA so there was a kid in my class that had got caught with a bong on the second week of school and he was suspended. when he came back to class, we were going over what the south grew in the U.S. very early on into colonization. and he used the bong kid as an example of a tobacco farmer

tried to eat a balled up paper

“important revolutionary war stuff”

“My bae, George Washington”

“They could’ve killed g-dubz, but they didn’t”

called george washington “g-dubz” frequiently

“Facts”

“Swagtastic”

he got excited over a military general (baron friedrich von steuben) for being a gay military general--”That was very well respected!”

“He had a ton of swagger”--referring to ben franklin

“His nickname was the swamp fox. You guys can call me that”

The snowball fight story--his brother was friends with a kid he hated next door. my teacher challenged the kid--Eric--to a snowball fight. In preparation, my teacher had froze snowballs, and so when he did have the fight, he LITERALLY knocked Eric out and left him on the front lawn unconscious (he was an elementary school kid)

one time he gave us the punishment quiz by accident, tried to make up for it by giving everyone the answer to #6. however, it turned out to be wrong so he just gave us all 100′s instead

another military story of the goat he bought from an old man with his buddies. unfortunately they had to kill the goat to eat, but the FACT that my teacher said this “a cute little goat--you know, baaa?” as if we didn’t know what a goat was

He was the golf/hockey coach!! so not only would he talk about beating up the kids in the golf club

he would also do random golf swings all the goddamn time! with no gold club or ball, it was just air.

“You are about to get clowned, young lady”

pronounced pamphlet as pamplet fora good part of his teaching career (another story he told us)

“It’s definitely not the declaration of independence you mouth breather!”

George washington = bae on a powerpoint

“you tied me up real good”

“France also popped off”

Compares the Connecticut compromise to ppap (with the song and everything!)

Told someone to shut up after they suggested that Iowa was the least populated state (he’s from Iowa)

hick iowa, to be exact

Wrote 23 as 32, realized his mistake and said “oop im dyslexic”

“If it’s a purge, I’m killing everybody”

“Federalism, not onion!’

“Who’s the dumbass guy? Ducey!” (our state governor)

he got arrested once. his mugshot is on google images and everything

he got arrested bc some guy was destroying his house w a baseball bat at a party his friendw as throwing (but it was at my teachers house). my teacher respectfully punched him and brought him to the front lawn. called the cops when the guy wouldnt leave and ended up being arrested too. teacher thought his career was over and threatened the guy the entire way to the police station

“laugh out loud!”

“We beat the begeezus out of a bunch of british people”

pronounced wolf as woof

“Who was his daddy? Who’s his daddy?”

Called a swim cap a bonnet

“Kick!”--then proceeds to kick a tennis ball. before that he had just thrown it to get out of his way

“Jesus, you’re a big boy”

for like 2 weeks straight he used that same tennis ball to try and erase a whiteboard. and im not talking rubbing it on the board, he fucking threw it at the wall, getting it off little by little. he eventually gave up, though

“I’ll snot rocket into the trash can”

“Cause I realize most of you are morons”

was obsessed with the cowboy boogie

“Every time I cough, my tail bone hurts”

“Do i look normal?”

“I look like an old man”

“Shut up your faces”

“I see you back there, queen”

“Some of you girls need to learn from this article”--the article was old & about girls being submissive

“that would hurt some people’s feelings, but I’m not gonna show it hurt mine”

“He’s just--’meow’”--about his cat

he had a sweater that had his face on it, photoshopped over a boxer that a student gave him. he wore it during winter

flicked a tennis ball across the room with a hockey stick. hit the coffee thermo on his desk, stared for a couple of seconds, and THEN realized that it was open

First off, all you kids making memes about dodging the draft--we don’t want your dumbasses anyway” --continued to rant for a few minutes after that

he HATED the national anthem with a burning passion

“I’m old as shit”

also, his cat’s name IS meow cat

more expo marker throwing

“Hey there handsome”-- to the teacher next door

“Henry clay is going to haunt you until april” (unfortunately we didnt make it that far into the school year bc of covid. disappointed that i didnt get to be haunted)

Singing electric avenue

“but here’s the tea”

“Flagstaff is like--” *reaches as high as he can to put expo marker on the wall

“I’m adopting all of you, and we’re moving to saudi arabia”

teacher: “I’m gonna break bowers kneecaps in front of you. you still want to be on strike?” not bowers but a different kid: “no...?”

Cleaned the shades in the middle of him explaining something

“You know your pinky toe? this little roast beef?”

THE TURTLE SOUP STORY. when my teacher was still a kid, he found a turtle in the wild, and brought it to his grandparents house (they owned a farm). he took care of the turtle for a while, even after his grandfather found out. until one day he came home and saw blood everywhere, went to find the turtle to see it was gone. then found his grandfather chopping up the fucking turtle so they could have it for soup for dinner. his grandfather literally made him fatten up the turtle so they could eat it

“Did mr.*****--?” (referring to himself in 3rd person, also blocked out to protect privacy)

“i’m going to staple your nostrils closed. staple, staple. ‘I can’t breathe mr.*****!’ should’ve done your DBQ!!”

his pedo stache

stood with a paper and smiled, thinking that a student was taking a picture of him when it was really the paper

doesn’t know who gaston is???

him: “I’m going to staple your noses together. One staple” Student: “*****’s piercing parlor!”

*singing* “beauty and the beast”

“I’m going to tackle you”

more random golf swinging

“What’s up (my name)?” me: hi *he then hits the bun on the top of my head on his way in the door*

And he did it again the next day

he literally made kids compete with pastries

which reminds me, he brought donuts in 2 days in a row like a week after that and make us (his first hour) take bites bc he realized he didn’t want to eat it. one of the girls was glad to take it from him, everyone else told him no

“Good morning (my name) how are you?” me: “I’m sick again... do you need help? (with the door)” him; “Actually, yes” (normally he can open the door even when his hands are full but there was a stack of pop tart boxes that were as tall as him so) i opened the door, he goes in and says, “thank you (my name), for not being rude”

the following quotes are for the Hot Seat

Student: “what do you do--?” him: “you’re in the hot seat!”

“Some people cry”

“La *****, luxurious”

“You sit here, and you stare (into the projector light)”

basically everyone in the class had to answer a question as a review. there was a stool in front of the smartboard, perfectly placed so that the projector light would LITERALLy be in your eyes. i actually got the question right on some miracle.

“2 points of weed?”

“Can I get some of that hot leaf?”

“They will make more drugs! You can’t do that much drug!”

“You guys bullied me and stole it”

“Whole rest of the nation sucked an egg”

“Whelp, let’s just kill myself”

“Do you guys know david chapel?” *sigh when everyone says no*

*some girls singing the national anthem* Him: “no! none of this, none of this!”

“Calibri’s for idiots” (the font)

“The only thing that was in--shit”

“and uncle sam--gettin lit”

“Their daddy--UH--”

“They’re going to blame the jews--my people” (he got a dna test done, he’s not actually jewish)

“Whatever you say, boomer”

“Use my words to plagiarize in college”

“I’m jewish, that’s offensive”

“Tell him he gave me instant cancer”

Me: “can i go to the bathroom?” him: “I’ll allow it”

him: “He’s antisemetic and it hurts my feelings” student: “what does that mean again?” him: “Hates jews :(”

“You guys can call me kingfish if you’d like”

~ after we said no to the nicknames, we tried to make one for him ~

student: “cornhusker!” him: “no, that’s offensive... and it’s also nebraska”

student: “corn picker!” him: “no--that sounds like a racist term or something”

“Unless corona really does take over--” (thank u, mr. for ruining the school year”

Student: “how old was she (his mom) when she had you?” him: “thirteen”

“My mom just turned 40 the other day...” (a joke)

him: “My brother got t-boned by a semi truck last night” Student: “Why are you laughing?” him: “Because he lived.”

“Yeah bc I would hide out in a public school with 300 new kids a year” (about him not living in iowa so he’s hiding out in az to get away from his “criminal record” (refer to the 1 time hes been arrested))

“Baby death?”

“Their family has more money than jesus”

*Standing outside the door yelling “CORONA” to students walking in”

“Hey I’m *****, f-word, blah, blah”

“We should fight our cats.”

“OH that’s a big chonk cat.”

“Mortal Kombat is pretty cool. I haven’t played in 25 years”

he told us in class once that we shouldnt open the front door if cops show up at a party. just to shut the blinds and be a little quieter bc the cops cant legally open the door

also one time he had a gun pointed to his face but he never finished that story bc he never liked it

during quarantine he set a DBQ as 1000 points (and i still didnt do it)

and “Here’s the tea, kiddos!”

honorable mentions: all the time he’s sent out emails bc theyre fucking hilarious

#ilguna #high school #gen z

6 notes · View notes

evilringsandthings · 4 years

Text

Headcanons/Rambles/Info because I have no self control

Tw: Drug use

Mack actually wasn’t reborn with blonde hair. Since he was just an extension of Malik’s trauma and anger, he ended up having to have an entire body made for him. There was no pre-existing framework like Atem and Ini. So when he woke up, he had dark brown hair. He’s gone through great lengths to dye it and due to that it’s pretty damaged.

Continuing from above, Mack still feels as though he’s a shield for Malik. He doesn’t understand that Malik has since moved past his trauma and is perfectly fine and capable of protecting himself. Mack doesn’t yet feel connected to himself as a person, and instead still feels as his only purpose is to shield Malik from harmful things. This leads to a lot of strain in their relationship.

I’ve mentioned before but Jonouchi, Anzu, Shizuka, Honda, Kaiba, Ryouji, Isis, and Rishid have NO idea Mack, Atem, and Ini exist. Yugi and Malik have kept their lips sealed about it.

The tattoo that Yugi and Atem got together was something they did during the first months that Atem was back. Atem wanted to truly make this body his own so he got some sick ink. Yugi was actually the one who sketched up the idea. The tattoo includes the date that Yugi solved the puzzle, the date Atem left, and the date he returned. Yugi already had the dates for solving the puzzle and the date Atem left.

Yugi is NB and transmasculine. I’ve already mentioned this but it’s so far back I might as well say it again. He had begun HRT in highschool but didn’t get top surgery until after Atem had left. So when Atem finally returned, he was both happy and excited for Yugi but a bit sad only for the fact he hadn’t been there to support Yugi through the healing process.

Atem and Yugi are not in a relationship AT ALL. Are there romantic feelings? No. Are there platonic feelings? Yes but a bit more intense than your normal platonic relationship. Do they love each other? ABSOLUTELY!!!! Atem is currently trying to figure out how he feels and how he wants to proceed with Yugi. Yugi is quite patient and supportive of Atem, and dates others on the side. One of them is living quite close.

Mack is in Domino! He moved from Egypt to study in Domino for a fashion design degree. He had thought about going into Egyptology (just like Yugi had) but ended up choosing another path. He’s got a job at the local museum and his siblings visit often

Isis and Mai are married. They’re wanderers and usually spend their time traveling to different countries. Mai never liked the idea of settling down somewhere and decided to drag Isis on her adventures. One thing led to another and they ended up eloping.

Rishid still lives in Egypt. Since the whole pharaoh thing prophecies and magic shit is over, he’s opened up the tombs for tours and such. He also takes visitors on other tours! He’s quite content and visits Malik quite often.

I know I’ve said it before but Yugi owns his own game design corporation that’s partners with KaibaCorp. It started out quite small but has grown exponentially. Yugi and Kaiba have grown quite close over the years, having been each other’s only true comfort when it came to mourning Atem. They had a connection with him that the others couldn’t understand. They found solace in each other’s company. Their dynamic is quite odd and it can be seen as hatred to the untrained eye. But there are many sleepovers and late night talks they’ve shared that say otherwise.

Due to staring at computer screens all the time, as well as sitting in the dark staring at said screens, and some other factions, Kaiba has glasses now!!!! He looks lovely but he hates them,

Seto’s style has actually settled down a lot. He’s retired the straps and leather and trench coats. You can now usually see him in a nice suit, or a casual turtle neck with a loose cardigan or coat. He even invested in a pair of sneakers due to Yugi’s request he stop always wearing dress shoes.

Mokuba!!!!! Baby boy is absolutely vibing! He joined his school’s baseball team and got a full ride scholarship to college. Very talented and very sports oriented! He got into self defense after how many times he’s been kidnapped and owns like 6 dogs with insane names.

Ryo and Yugi have lunch together a lot! They’re quite close and Yugi is one of the only people that Ryo will act like himself around. Ryo acts extremely tough and standoffish towards Ini for reasons that will be revealed later. But he’s hardly the stoic asshole he’s been portrayed as so far. Many layers. Like an onion. Ryo is Shrek 2020

Mack is a hella stoner. There. I said it. The man smokes weed and even makes his own edibles and shit. Malik doesn’t know about it but even if he did, he wouldn’t give two shits. Just as long as Mack doesn’t crash the car or touch his bike then they’re good. Mack will usually let Ini join him if Ini’s anxiety has been really bad. Ini enjoys it.

Out of all the houses the trio (Atem, Mack, and Ini) stays at, Mack’s place is the most. It’s usually because Malik is gone so they can be as insane as they want. But Mack’s room is in the basement and conisists of two mattresses stacked on top of each other, hello kitty sheets, two pillows, and a thin bright yellow blanket. A small tv with an Xbox, a pile of clothes, pizza boxes and Mountain Dew bottles everywhere, and his electric guitar and drum set in the corner.

The Trio has a pretty close but unconventional bond. Their relationship with each other is pretty odd and even Yugi, Malik, and Ryo are confused about it. The Trio really just vibes, but they’re all extremely physically affectionate with each other. Always touching, always together, they can look at each other and have a conversation.

Ini, Mack, and Atem all share a birthday. This “birth” day relates to the day that they were reborn and brought back from wherever. Atem’s memories of his past life in Egypt are too fuzzy for him to remember his actual birthday. So they go with the day they were all brought back,

Ini and Mack share a good bond. Both are people who are trying to figure themselves and orient a place for themselves in the world. Ini is the product of a true second chance and Mack is the product of someone that had experienced so much hatred, anger, pain, and abuse. They understand each other’s feelings in a way that not even Atem can relate to.

While Malik was the first to acknowledge out loud that Ini wasn’t TKB or YB, Atem and Mack both knew. Atem knew something was off about the way that Ini interacted. There was no malice. No flicker of familiarity from TKB or YB in Ini. That’s why he was so willing to listen to Ini when he apologized.

24 notes · View notes

lockdownuk · 4 years

Text

Lockdown Diary Part 8

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 211: I stayed up till 5am last night. The last thing I watched was Ronny Chieng, a Malaysian comic in the states. It was a Netflix comedy special and bloody funny. Other than that, a quiet night, nowhere near as fucked as Friday night. As I type, I am about to finish off spicy af sausage cassserole for tea and watch a film - all quite sedate. I’ve work tomorrow, after all!

Day 212: Every time I try and watch something on Amazon Prime, it errors or doesn’t load so I have to uninstall and reinstall, which is a pain the fucking arse. Glad I don’t pay for it. I watched half of the Tom Hanks film last night, A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood, based on a real life children’s TV actor. It’s good but weird. I’ll finish it tonight. Jo Broom called and told me (well, reminded me of, actually) some good info, especially about insulin lasting 4 hours and the liver producing sugar for when you wake up). Day 213: I didn’t watch the rest of that Tom Hanks film last night, doing so right now. I got a call @5.30pm from Tall Tom asking to pop round which he did (social-distancing at the front door). He dropped of a canvas print he’d ordered of on eof my pictures from FB. Fucking gobsmacked! That’s how much he likes them. I am still in shock. What a brilliant thing to do! Day 214: Finished A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood last night, I enjoyed it. Today has been standard. Half way through the third week back from furlough and, while I am still very glad to be working, I now also relish pasrt of being paid 80% for fuck all! My walks have been tentative today, I have done something to my right ankle, it feels sore but OK when walking at pace. My phone and Google Fit are playing up - I am suddenly walking 8km/h! Day 215: Phoned Dad - Rita sent an email a couple of days ago telling of a lump in his ear which he had removed and they are going to check for cancer. When I spoke with him it was usual dad - nothing to worry about. He spoke very highly of the staff at Stamford Hospital where he had it done. They took skin from his nesxk to put on his ear lobe where they performed the op. I had pie and veg tonight. It’s a real change and I am stuffed as I type this. SB pee-ed me off at work big time late this afternoon. Diary updated! Day 216: Dan’s in court today for his drink driving escapade. I think he’s pleading not guilty - I’m not sure, neither has he been each time I have talked to him about it. It was scheduled at 4pm and he’s meant to let me know how it went. As I type, it’s just gone 9pm. Fuck knows what’s happening. I guess he’ll let me know in his own time. Meanwhile, work was OK, nothing hectic, I am on my first Friday beer, just about to eat meatballs and pasta and watch Taxi, a film written by Luc Besson. End of my 3rd week back and it’s a bit like I wasn’t furloughed for 6 months!

Day 217: I switched off that Taxi film after 30 minutes. It was bollocks. Dan got a 20 month ban (reduced to 15, if he does a course, which he says he will) and £1100 fine. At least it’s over and done with now. I got up at gone 2pm today. I have to cut this late sleeping habit out at the weekends. That being said, it’s 8.40pm, just about to dive in the shower, eat and then get on it. Clocks go back later so I’ve an extra hour to play with!

Day 218: Still managed to stay up stupidly late last night, up at before 1pm (but in real terms, that’s just before 2pm!) Had a video chat with Fog - I was meant to go up to his yesterday to listen to the footy but, ‘cos I was up so late, I didn’t. Anyway, during our chat, we’ve decidied to go to Honolulu when it’s safe, specifically to go to McDs. It was a bizarre conversation - I can’t actually remember the details!

Day 219: The lady (I think it’s a lady) from the Oundle Chronicle emailed to say she didn’t think William (the student) has contacted me (he has but is fucking useless), so she’s found some questions for me to answer and wants me to pick my favourite 4 (hi-res) photos. I’ve written a couple of paragraphs that answer her questions and I was to pick photos that have had the most likes on FB - finding that info out, without trawling back over my posts, is easier said than done! Got the car tyres sorted today - an advisory from the MOT that Julian did last week.. I do like Oundle Tyre and Exhaust centre. Work was fine. Marke had to deal with Eileen Baxter and chatted to me about it. I had it all the week before last. She’s delightful but the least IT savvy person I have ever known in a workplace whereby a computer is integral to the role!

Day 220: I’ve been doing press-ups and toe tocuhes after each exercise for a little while now. 7 press-ups, doesn’t sound much but when I did it before and rapidly increased the numbers (up to 22), it played havoc with my shoulder which I thought was becoming frozen. So, I will icrease the amount slowly. I can just about touch my toes now. When I started, I barely got past my fucking knees! Work was standard today and I had an interesting chat with a recruiter about a job at Jagex, a computer game firm responsible for Runescape which is, apparently, a big deal. Posh playing tonight. At one point, when leading at home to Burton we were top. Now it’s 2-2 with minutes to go and we’re third with fucking Lincoln top. Day 221: I sent an email to Shirley from HR (re) asking about the salary discrepancy between mine and Mark’s. She’s going to talk to me tomorrow about it. I had a lomng chat with Barrzy tonight, always good to catch up and reminisce. I’ve just had two sausage rolls (on the cheap shelf from Co-Op, Dauphinoise dotatoes (ditto), mixed green veg and onion gravy for tea and I am fucking stuffed.

Day 222: Typing at gone 4pm on day 223! Had a meet with Shirley. No dice on the pay until it can be reviewed next year. All pay reviews are on hold. She explained that the salary offer was based on available budget rather than a pay grade or bench mark. Day 223: Typing this very late on day 224. Usual Friday. Work, beers, bed at 5am. went up Fog’s for a couple and watched Train to Busan. Day 224: I swore blind, when I woke and got up (2.24pm) I would have a day off from exercise. Stair climb and 10km walk done! Leigh from Oundle Chronicle messaged chasing my answers for the article. Last night, someone posted such great pics on the Oundle Chatter group that it makes me think twice about posting my photos. I tell everyone I just point and snap with my phone camera and, while it is the phone camera, I do so much pissing about with Google photos I feel like a con, it doesn’t sit well with me. Made lasagne for tea. Fucking lush - lardons, scothc bonnet and an Oxo cube really helped, I think. It’s 11:44pm as I type, 15 mins and I’ll deliver K’s birthday card. Not sure what I am hoping to come out of that, really. Just can’t let go! Day 225: Stupidly late one again last night. Up at 2pm. I’ve responded to Leigh at the Oundle Chronicle - why I make it so hard, I do not know, I really overthink some things. Eye appointment tomorrow, 9.50am, which Sam, Mr. Minos’s secretary offered me when she called on friday. Sueanne was very cool about it when I checked it was OK. So, now I am fretful of what will happen! More lasering, I reckon.

Day 226: Eye clinic was not great. I need lasering in my right eye, so that will be both eyes. Mr. Hussain, the consultant that ive seen loads including today, explained that the field of vision is affected that it can mean I am not allowed to drive. In one eye it doesn’t matter, in both the DVLA will order a test and, if the field isn’t wide enough, means I won’t get a license to drive. Shit! K WhatsApp to thank me for the card plus some ‘chat’ which ended uninvitingly (i.e., end of conversation!). I just replied that I was glad she liked it (the card),

Something is up with my left thumb, it’s sore by the nail, as if it’s ingrowing, but it isn’t. Fuck knows what it is and it’s really bothering me, very painful. Pretty shit day, all in all. Day 227: Called the surgery about my thumb and Dr. leijsen called me back, asked some questions about the photo (I had to take a pic and send it in), including whether there’s any pus, and then said she’ll prescribed anti-biotics. Later today, it started to leak pus, and feel better! But, it’s still not right so I’‘l take the course. Looks like I have got an interview for the IT support job at Jagex, got a call from the recruiter today, just need confirmation. Spoke with Shirley from HR about the fact I might not be able to drive in the future. She was pretty cool about it in a kind of cross-that-bridge way and suggested I run it past Sueanne.

Day 228: Spoke with Sueanne about my impending eye lasering which is on Friday ay 3.30pm, the hospital called to let me know, she was very cool about it and even suggested I take Monday off! More importantly, she spoke of the non-driving as no factor to worry about job wise, especially as we are all WfH nowadays. I have an interview at Jagex, well, Zoom, but it is on Friday, 1pm.

Day 229: Told Mark at work about the lasering adn potential non-driving. I think it shocked him a little. I am worried about tomorrow, big time, although it’s just lasering - I’ve had it done before. I cannot wait for this time tomorrow (9.40pm). I have been trying to concentrate on preparing for the interview but it’s all too easy to get distracted. Day 230: Interview went OK. Eye appointment was horrible but bearable. The doc wants me to book in for more laser but, only so it can be reviewed and ‘topped up’ if need be. Better than a going for a check up and having to book another laser appointment thereafter. It’s near enough 9.00pm and I am going to enjoy a bear or two.

Day 231: No after affects to speak of from the eye appointment but I know lasering has occurred. It’s like I haven’t got the full set of cells recieve information from yje pupil. It’s intangible but still perceptible. Great walk today, took some cracking photos - very pleasing. More booze and draw tonight and, hopefully, up tomorrow before the 2.20pm wake up time of today. Posh beat Oxford away (1-2) in the FA Cup 1st round.

Day 232: 2pm by the time I got out of bed. I’ve got to curb this habit. Missed calls from Dad but answered one from Rita just before going for a walk when I promised to phone tomorrow. Day 233: I think SB wa surprised was at work today. I ordered two rugs (from irugs.co.uk). They are 8x5″ and were 75% off, £58 ea. One for under the table (desk) and I put one in the spare room. Hopefully keep the house a tad warmer. Getting into Barry on Sky Comedy. Barry’s a hit man. It’s darkly intriguing. I took a couple of pics of a solitary poppy today, icuding a couple of macros. They turned out OK so will post one on Wednesday (11/11). Talking of photos, two people (one is Alison Brighty) asked for a jpeg of one of the photos I posted on Saturday so they can get it printed.

Day 234: Spoke with dad today, let him know the situation with my eyes which, I think worries him, so I hate to do it but, also, he needs to know, just in case.

Day 235: The poppy pic I posted was very well received, over 160 likes on the Oundle chatter page and Jo Langford wants the original (why she can’t take it of FB?) to print off, which is nice. I am working on Saturday - gotta attend a meeting at 8am. FFS! SB also agreed for me to back on call, cool!

Day 236: Average sort of day. I really wish I wasn’t working on Saturday! OH, Dan messaged...first I’ve heard from him for over two weeks...he’s got two days of so he can watch all the US Masters which started today, and was good watching. So, not that average a day afterall, now that I think back on it. Day 237: Woke up at 9.14am today, yikes! Messaged with Dan a lot as he is home watching the US Masters...told him abbout my eye issues and the fact there’s a chance of losing my driving license. Also, in a silly facebook post and comments, about me not being able to drink tonight ‘cos of work tomorrow, Scottish Ricky asked if I was OK. I replied, not really, meaning that I’m pissed off I can’t get pissed. He messaged to say if I ever need to chat. Fucking great bloke. I rang him to let him know I was not being serious on FB and we chatted for 30 mins or so. Top man. still, it does remian that I am missing a beer this Friday - roll on tomorrow night!

Day 238: Work thsi morning was OK, finished at midday. Watchung golf, having abeer or two right now (just gone 8pm). Posh lost away to Crewe 0-2. Day 239: Up at 2pm after a good few drinks last night (and some silly video posting on FB of me trying shit lager - Corrs Light - with hot sauce). Just settling down to watch Dustin Johnson win the Masters - he’s -20 with 2 to play, no one near him.

Day 240: I ordered some slippers from Amazon that arrived today. They were also returned today. I’m destined to never find a decent, non-expensive pair.

DJ did win the golf.

I watched Jojo Rabbit this evening. A first class film.

#diary #Tumblr diary #lockdown #COVID19 #lockdownuk

1 note · View note

werewolfharrington · 5 years

Note

Flower ask: also all of them. you get to suffer with me >:3€

oh darlin’ we’re in it now huh

Alisons: Sexuality?

homogay

Amaranth: Pronouns/Gender?

she/they | all gender will be shot on sight

Amaryllis: Birthday?

sept 23rd

Anemone: Favorite flower?

monkshood

Angelonia: Favorite t.v. show?

stranger things or ghost adventures

Arum-Lily: What’s the farthest you’d go for a stranger?

like? distance? a couple miles probably

Aster: What’s one of your favorite quotes?

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little lifeIs rounded with a sleep.” William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Aubrieta: Favorite drink?

wild cherry capri sun

Baby’s Breath: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

ima change that to ‘kiss the last person u thought abt kissing’ bc YES

Balsam Fir: Have you ever been in love?

*jenna marbles voice* hell yeah!!

Baneberries: Favorite song?

waiting for the end - linkin park

Basket of Gold: Describe your family.

chaos

Beebalm: Do you have a best friend? Who is it?

i have too many to list !!! brandi, kasey, you, liz, ivy, nick , just to name a few!!

Begonia: Favorite color?

blue uwu

Bellflower: Favorite animal?

foxes !! and opossums

Bergenia: Are you a morning or night person?

night time babey

Black-Eyed Susan: If you could be any animal for a day, what would it be?

either a fox or an opossum or a raven, i think

Bloodroots: When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?

i wanted to be a vet !!!

Bluemink: What are your thoughts on children?

theyre ok as long as theyre not screaming and/or mine

Blazing Stars: What are you afraid of? Is there a reason why?

i don’t liike vomit bc. nastey (trauma i think) and i don’t like old ppl well. i dunno why? they’re just so old and fragile and helpless and sometimes they’re really mean and idk i think it’s like something to do w death or something LMAO idk. also i just hate the idea of becoming old and having to rely on other people ?? hhh

Borage: Give a random fact about your childhood.

i was bullied a lot

Bugleherb: How would you spend your last day on Earth?

realistically? probably playing dead by daylight with my girlfriend ADFSGRHYUTR

Buttercup: Relationship Status?

happily taken

Camelia: If you could visit anywhere, where would you want to go?

ireland, scotland, alaska, greece

Candytufts: When do you feel most loved?

whenever my friends or family tells me they love me but esp when u text me goodmorning or when we say our goodnights sorry im gay haha

Canna: Do you have any tattoos?

i have. uuuuhh 6

Canterbury Bells: Do you have any piercings?

no!!! i want some tho :(

California Poppy: Height?

i think im like. 5′5 or something? give or take an inch ?

Cardinal Flower: Do you believe in ghosts?

oh absolutely. my house is haunted as we speak

Carnation: What are you currently wearing?

bmth hoodie and pajama pants w foxes all over them. i just woke up lol

Catnip: Have you ever slept with a nightlight?

yeah i always keep one on in the bathroom

Chives: Who was the last person you hugged?

my sister bc she came home from college yesterday

Chrysanthemum: Who’s the last person you kissed?

ask me in like. a little over a month from now ;)

Cock’s Comb: Favorite font?

FONT??? the animal crossing font

Columbine: Are you tired?

oh absolutely

Common Boneset: What are you looking forward to?

thanksgiving, christmas, seeing my gf, magfest

Coneflower: Dream job?

idk if it’s a job but i just wanna own like. a ranch that takes in all sorts of animals and takes care of them

Crane’s-Bill: Introvert or extrovert?

introvert

Crocus: Have you ever been in love?

ooooh yeah

Crown Imperial: What’s the farthest you would go for someone you care about?

i mean. depends on what they want/need. distance wise? i’d travel the known universe for u

Cyclamen: Did you have a favorite stuffed animal as a child? What was it?

he was a plaid teddy bear his name was Stanley!!!! i miss him :( but now i have Little Moon God as my favourite stuffed animal

Daffodil: What’s your zodiac sign?

Libro

Dahlia: Have you done anything worth remembering?

Working in Yellowstone is something I’ll never forget

Daisy: What do you feel is your greatest accomplishment?

well. hmm. i was gonna say flying to yellowstone but maybe driving to north carolina by myself bc driving long distances alone to places i haven’t been before gives me hella anxiety (i’m better now)

Daylily: What would you do if your parents didn’t like your partner(s)?

i don’t pay rent in this house to listen to their opinions lmao.

Dendrobium: Who is the last person that you said “I love you” to?

you, i think, when we said goodnight last night!!! EDIT: you this morning!!

False Goat’s Beard: What is something you are good at?

being bad at dead by daylight

Foxgloves: What’s something you’re bad at?

dead by daylight

Freesia: What are three good things that have happened in the past month?

(little over a month now but uhhh) GOT A UH ......GIRL.....FRIEND ...... GOT TO VISIT GIRLFRIEND ........ and got the windshield finally replaced in my car

Garden Cosmos: How was your day today?

i dont know! so far ive laid in bed now im at my computer answering this. not too bad. my shift is only 4 hours today.

Gardenia: Are you happy with where you’re at in your life?

for the most part, i’m pretty content, yeah

Gladiolus: What is something you hope to do in the next year or two?

MOVE OUT

Glory-of-the-Snow: What are ten things that make you happy/you’re grateful to have in your life?

my friends, my mom, my sisters, my girlfriend, my bastard dog

Heliotropium: What helps you calm down when you feel stressed?

metal

Hellebore: How do you show affection?

what does this mean. physically, i’m very affectionate, i just. don’t show it alot bc anxiety/i overthink. that and i constantly tell ppl i love them and what they mean to me

Hoary Stock: What are you proudest of?

whoever is reading this

Hollyhock: Describe your ideal day.

wake up next 2 a cute girl. take way too long to get up. go climb mountain w cute girl. vibe on mountain w cute girl. go to waffle house 2gether. gome home and vibe. play video games or watch a movies/tv w cute girl.

Hyacinth: What do you like to do in your free time?

i like to make art or play bideo jame

Hydrangea: How long have you known your best friend? How did you meet them?

oh gosh i dunno. the ones i’ve known the longest are kasey and brandi, and i’ve known them both around/over a decade i think. we met in middle/highschool!

Irises: Who can you talk to about (almost) everything?

you, ivy, liz

Laceleaf: How many friends do you have?

so many

Lantanas: What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received?

idk man but i remember when you said u had a crush on me and then i posted a selfie and u were like ‘OH NO SHE’S CUTE” and like ??? idk i think that was definitely the first compliment to ever shock me LMAO

Larkspur: What do you think of yourself?

6.9/10

Lavender: What’s your favorite thing about yourself?

my tattoos

Leather Flower: What’s your least favorite thing about yourself?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGGViLwHEUk

Lilac: What’s something you liked to do as a child?

i liked to play zombies ate my neighbors on the sega genesis !!!!

Lily: Who was your best friend when you were a kid?

eliza !!!! we lost touch a few years after i moved away :(

Lily of the Incas: What is something you still feel guilty for?

ima be real everything makes me feel guilty

Lily of the Nile: What is something you feel guilty for that you shouldn’t feel guilty about?

aaaaaa the whole abi/moon incident

Lupine: What does your name mean? Why is that your name?

my name is fox. it means i like foxes

Marigold: Where did you grow up? Tell us about it.

northern virginia babey !!!! that place fucking sucks!!! but everyone who lives up there thinks they’re hot shit.

Morning Glory: What was your bedroom like growing up?

i had a bunkbed and i think the walls were pink

Mugworts: What was it like for you as a teenager? Did you enjoy your teenage years?

😬 i’m just gonna say i’m much happier now and i’m coping with life and shit a lot better

Norwegian Angelica: Tell us about your mom.

she’s sweet and funny and i love her so much!! she always does the Most for everyone, sometimes to the point where she isn’t concerned abt herself and i see where i get it from. but yeah my mom is great, my dad doesn’t deserve her

Onions: Tell about your dad.

source of a lot of trauma and why i have so many issues regarding men. i don’t wanna talk about him anymore LOL he doesn’t deserve the attention

Orchid: Tell about your grandparents.

my dad’s mom is becoming senile and i think she’s racist and queerphobic. my mom’s parents disowned her a few years ago so we don’t talk to them anymore

Pansy: What was your most memorable birthday? What made it be so memorable?

i dunno. i don’t try to remember my birthdays. whenever i can go to busch gardens for my birthday i usually have a lot of fun there.

Peony: What was your first job?

if you don’t wanna count working w my mom as a florist, target was my first job back in 2016. i found my name tag the other day , actually

Petunia: If you’re in a relationship, how did you meet your partner(s)? If you’re not in a relationship, how did you meet your crush/how do you hope to meet your future partner(s), if you want any?

WELL, i know you followed me on here first. and then twitter?? but we didn’t really start talking until stranger things 3 came out (thank u stranger things) PHYSICALLY, we didn’t meet until fursonacon (haha. i remember when u texted me that u got to the hotel and i came down to help n i saw u unloading yr car and it was then that my brain was like OH NOOOOOOOO and my heart was like OH YEEEEAAAAAAAH)

Pincushion: How do you deal with pain?

physical, mental, or emotional? i play a video game or listen to loud music

Pink: Where is home?[

somewhere in appalachia i can feel it in my stupid soul

Plantain Lilies: If you could go back in time, what is one thing you would stop/change?

idk man i’m pretty content w where i’m at now so

Prairie Gentian: Who is someone you look up to? Describe them.

chester bennington

Primrose: Describe your ideal life.

i have a waife and we have many great pets and we live in a log cabin in the mountains or in a nice victorian in a small town or something IDK but we’re happy and that’s all that matters

Rhodendron: What is something you used to believe in as a child?

God

Ricinus: Who’s the most important in your life?

my mom, me best friends, my girlfriend

Rose: What’s your favorite sound?

my girlfriend’s laugh because it’s THE cutest shit and then when she giggles??? oh my heart

Rosemallows: What’s your favorite memory?

oct 23rd, 2005, we brought Fat Boy Zack home !!!!

Sage: What’s your least favorite memory?

July 22nd, 2016. i was 2200 miles away

Snapdragon: At this moment, what do you want?

to be holding my girlfriend >:(

St. John’s Wort: Is it easy or difficult for you to express how you feel about things?

hhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Sunflower: What is something you don’t want to imagine life without?

those i hold dear

Sweet Pea: How much sleep did you get last night?

enough, i guess?

Tickseed: What’s your main reason to get up every morning?

my girlfriend

Touch-Me-Not: How do you feel about your current job?

it’s fucking BORING and TOO EASY and they don’t pay me ENOUGH but i can get away with so much shit there so ima still go, ima still go

Transvaal Daisy: What’s your favorite item of clothing?

all of the flannels currently in my possession

Tropical White Morning Glory: Describe your aesthetic.

mountains, woods, forests, cabins, autumn, cryptic, occult, victorian, edwardian

Tulip: What would be the best present to get you?

if someone gets me a gift i’m legally required to execute them

Vervain: What’s stressing you out most right now?

this 40hr workweek i got coming up

Wisteria: How many books have you read in the past few months? What were they called?

i have not read in So Long

Wolf’s Bane: Where do you want to be in life this time next year?

Moved out away from here lol, we’ll see

Yarrow: Do you know what vore is?

Zinnia: Give a random fact about yourself.

i’m a furry

that was SO LONG im sorry i also put you through that but THANK YOU ENJOY READING ILU

#littlecation #ask #long post

8 notes · View notes

twistednuns · 4 years

Text

February 2020

I managed to use my iPad as a second monitor for my computer. So tech savvy. Yay me!

Joking about developing a sex-based cardio programme with Manu. Powerfucking! Might help against aggression as well.

A late night phone call with Tom. Not saying much.

Making a huge pot of my grandmother’s signature veggie stew.

More Bon Appétit test kitchen videos. Chris recreating tacos. Claire making Ben&Jerry’s. Priya making her mum’s Indian curries.

Writing a letter to Lena. Drawing upside down bats (which makes them look like they’re having a wicked dance-off). Just the act of writing. I thoroughly enjoy looking at my handwriting.

Using the Salted Coconut handscrub by Lush. Especially now that I wash my hands so often when we’re working with clay at school. I feel like the peeling triggers some pressure points on my palms.

That Saturday productivity high. Cooking and preparing heaps of stuff, cleaning the windows, doing laundry.

Painting my nails like an expressionist artist.

Some portrait studies. Accidentally drawing Sirius Black.

Being really motivated to improve my Spanish. Working with Lorena, the Duolingo app and even starting my own grammar/vocabulary book.

This ultra quirky ASMR video. Also: watching videos with Erin an her boyfriend Chris. It’s amazing how well they work together. How you can almost feel their connection, how similar they are.

Carrot cake oats.

Seeing the The Darkness live again, this time with Margit. Justin’s outfit and personality, singing along, especially to Time of my Life, the band’s traditional first song after the show.

Meeting Chris. Having a Bramblette cocktail at Pusser’s. I like that place. Feels very old-timey with a rowing boat right under the ceiling. We made out in front of a tiger slide in a toy store window on our way to the next bar.

Peeling fresh carrots.

Pickling onions and making kimchi. My fermentation game is strong these days!

Looking through Dominik’s sketchbook. I loved the tree whose bark resembled a mole burrow with its underground tunnel system.

The flu. Yes, really. Fewer pupils at school. Quiet times. I’m actually surprisingly healthy. I’d guess my probiotics must play a role here… Who knows.

More sourdough experiments. Writing about it (DELICACY - a haiku. Oven-warm sourdough / salted butter, alpine cheese / and a strawberry).

Finding a really interesting list of SanFran hippie era book recommendations at the end of Robin Sloan’s Ajax Penumbra: 1969. In the mood to read Maya Angelou, Tom Wolfe, Jack Kerouac, Richard Brautigan.

Even more beautiful books: I really enjoyed Die weiße Stadt by Karolina Ramqvist, a feminist author from Sweden, and the graphic novel version of To Kill a Mockingbird. But two books that literally (well, figuratively obviously) blew my mind were Circe by Madeline Miller (mythology, loneliness, animals and plants, magic and monsters, some desperate kind of feminism, independence and strength) and Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo (magical realms, university setting, psychological depth, unexpected twists and turns). I haven’t read anything comparable in a very long time and I desperately hope that there’s more to come from these authors.

A beach collecting all the world’s single socks in The Magicians. Oh and of course seeing them break the moon. What a sight. The show is super confusing, obnoxious and absolutely fabulous at the same time. Best example: the Freaky Friday szene in which Margo and Eliot switch bodies. I love how the actors took on each other’s speech patterns and behaviour.

A new addition to my colour vocabular: celadon (a greyish green; there is a type of ceramics you’ll only see in this colour which is not surprising since the shade provides such an interesting contrast to the the earthy, rusty orange of burnt clay.)

Manu telling me that he had rarely seen people with more joy in their eyes than me (“Ich habe schon Freude in deinen Augen gesehen! So ein Leuchten kann man nicht simulieren.”) after complaining about being bored and lifeless. / Making curry with or, well, for him the other night. Drinking Liqueur 43 with cinnamon and milk. Playing the Jackbox party games for which you can use your phone as a controller.

Finding myself in a well-known sitation from the past. Lying in Frank’s bed in the early morning hours, not that tired yet, when he starts talking about his life and his depression. In English, obviously, because that’s our emotional filter. Relating, since I feel quite similar. Coming up with a suggestion for a reciprocal support system. Let’s see what we can do for each other.

Looking at travel photographs. The sea, the cenotes. Longing to go back to Mexico or Australia. Diving. Taking it all in.

Dreaming of my grandmother talking about her biggest regrets in life. Weirdly she was in a little bundle under a coffee table, much like Voldemort in the last Harry Potter movie.

My weird, weird brain. How both pleasure and pain enhance my sense of smell and increase my brain activity, almost causing hallucinations and fixations on ideas. Like geometric shapes in gloomy off-colours and a beige silicon-like surface the other night. All I could think of was a benchscraper.

Blue eyeliner.

Brainstorming three-letter-words with Frank since I’m thinking of getting personalised Nike Blazers. Sad cat. Yes but. Dat ass. Why tho.

Flying squirrels. Watching them wobble through the air. How they look like cute exhibitionist when they’re extending their limbs and thus stretching their, well, let’s just call it wings.

The fact that red cabbage has an intricate pattern like brain convolutions when you cut it open.

Talking to Sonja for the first time in over two years. What a strange person. Interesting, too. At least in homeopathic doses.

Ripe strawberries and nectarines. Oh my god. I love fruit.

Meeting Eve at Pub Quiz. She identifies as female, loves swing dance, used to be an animator and I love her style. Also, I realised that really like Betty. And Dennis wasn’t mean to me for once. I love my nerd friends <3 And I learned that Starbucks was named after the first mate in Moby Dick! Also, coincidentally they asked a question about the city where To Kill a Mockingbird takes place (Maycombe, Alabama) after I had read it the week before.

Inviting Lorena to the Botanical Gardens. I always feel very happy and very much myself when I’m there. I sometimes wish I was a gardener. Lorena was late so I walked along the Spring Path outside and it might have been the first time I’ve seen a brussels sprouts plant. Inside I learned lots of Spanish words and marveled at the incredible butterflies. The huge yellow one right behind the entrance was my favourite. Its delicate feelers were fascinating.

Washing my hands at the Keg’s bathroom. Looking into the mirror. Suddenly thinking of the perfect karaoke song… Rescue Me by Bell Book and Candle! I kept singing it for days on repeat. My neighbour must hate me (nothing new here) especially since my voice is too low for the chorus.

It isn’t hard to see how such attachment patterns can undermine mental health. Both anxious and avoidant coping have been linked to a heightened risk of anxiety, depression, loneliness, eating and conduct disorders, alcohol dependence, substance abuse and hostility. The way to treat these problems, say attachment theorists, is in and through a new relationship. On this view, the good therapist becomes a temporary attachment figure, assuming the functions of a nurturing mother, repairing lost trust, restoring security, and instilling two of the key skills engendered by a normal childhood: the regulation of emotions and a healthy intimacy. // An interesting article on attachment styles and why theraphy works; it makes me want to learn more about attachment theory. This School of Life video is a nice addition as well.

That dream. About a book shop modeled after my picture of Penumbra’s 24-hour bookstore. There was an old man in a very narrow but high-ceilinged room full of books. There was no light source except for moonlight or some street lights. There were loads of stairs, very steep, leading to the back of the house. Upstairs the man would set out cat food and on the rooftop there was an old sailing boat. One day the man decided to open the door to the roof and let visitors see the ship, much like a museum; perhaps to attract customers. However, in the next night a cat-shaped ghost appeared who reminded me quite a lot of Kot Behemoth character in Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita. The ghost was not amused about the old man’s decision and took away his key, a big golden one adorned with a red ribbon.

Toasted sesame makes pretty much every dish so much better.

Watching High Fidelity with gorgeous Zoe Kravitz (I adore her effortless style and her outfits), getting in the mood for making a playlist and listening to more music in general. There are all these great songs out there I forgot about.

Remembering the xkcd storm chaser comics.

Making a wicked good batch of Pho for Tom.

Spending a nice evening with Alex at Shamrock. Singing along to American Boy by Estelle. Confirming the hypothesis that the nerdy, quiet ones usually have a freak streak. That moment in the morning. Eye contact and kegel exercises.

Karaoke with Margit and Betty. Meeting Manu’s doppelganger. Same type, looks, voice. Eerie.

Making a BA Gourmet Makes meme for Steffen after he had passed his law examps. Strangely Gaby kinda looked like him after I was done with it.

Saturday morning in bed. Reading comics and graphic novels. Fresh bedclothes, surrounded by books. Since it was February 29 I thought about leap years and asked a few friends what their inner seven-year-old would have done that day (based on the thought experiment that your birthday was on February 29 and you’d age in 4-year-steps which would divide your age by 4 obviously).

I came up with: visiting grandma / eating Cini-Minis / falling asleep with my face buried in a cat / beating my neighbour Anna at Memory / drawing while listening to a Bibi Blocksberg cassette.

Alex said he’d have been outside all day, building a snow igloo. Not noticing his mum telling him to come to dinner. If the weather had been bad he would have played with his dinosaur collection. His inner 7-year-old was a hopeless dreamer who got agitated whenever his parents had a fight. Who came home late from school every day because he forgot about time when he was talking to his friend next to a hedge with thorns that looked like tiny airplanes.

Lena said she would have been outside all day long, playing in the mud with the neighbours’ kids. Of course.

#things i love #present perfect #personal #february 2020 #february #2020

1 note · View note