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saratogaroadwrites · 8 months

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For King and Country (62/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount: 280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

A sneeze ripped across the deck of the Eternity, followed by a none too dignified sniffle. Lifting his eyes from the ice floes he had been watching, Roland turned to his partner. Leander sniffled again.

“It isn’t even snowing,” he grumbled, blowing into his hands to try and warm his bare fingers. The blanket he had all but tied around his shoulders shifted like an oversized cape. “How can it possibly be this cold and not be snowing?”

“It’s too cold for snow,” Roland replied. His breath misted in front of him, yet another sign of just how frigid the northern-most oceans were in the middle of the night. It was a very good thing they hadn’t tried to come through here in winter, he thought, or they would have had much bigger problems. “You know you don’t have to stay up here, right? I can keep watch on my own.”

“I am well aware of that,” Leander said, though any attempts at sharpness were ruined by another sniffle. He pulled a face and adjusted his glasses. “But two sets of eyes see things a single pair would not. It is safer this way.”

“And you’re sick of Batu’s snoring.”

“And that.” Leander pulled a face. “I don’t know how his Majesty can possibly sleep through that!”

Roland huffed, amused. Leander hadn’t seen Evan trying to sleep through it their first few nights as a group, and therefore he hadn’t seen the boy-king with his pillow over his head. He’d gotten used to it since, but… “Practice.”

“Of course.” With a sigh, Leander eyed him sidelong, annoyed. “How are you tolerating this?”

In response, Roland simply tucked his chin into his collar. This had the added benefit of hiding the beginnings of a smirk.

“The cold’s never really bothered me,” he settled on, trying not to snort at the refrain of a song that drifted through his brain. Of all the things he hadn’t forgotten… “I guess I’m just used to that, too.”

“I suppose so.”

Tucking his hands into his armpits, Leander shifted his weight from foot to foot. They fell into a fairly comfortable silence, watching the ice floes drift aside in the Eternity’s wake. Off to the starboard side, a large iceberg drifted by, close enough to touch. Roland held his breath, but when it passed with no incident he let it go. There would be no hull breaches tonight.

“Roland,” Leander said, “May I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Where is it you hail from?” Leander asked, and Roland went stiff, “Your accent sounds nothing like those from Dell or Goldpaw, nor the Sky Pirates. I cannot place it.” He turned his head, glasses reflecting the golden light of a nearby lantern. “Where in the world did you pick it up?”

“Here and there,” Roland said quickly, mind racing. He needed a cover story, one that wouldn’t fall apart whenever someone squinted too hard at it. “Mostly from my mother. She was from Autumnia.”

Even as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. The best lies came from grains of truth and not saying too much. Give a man enough rope, he thought, internally crossing his fingers that Leander would take him at face value and drop it.

“Did Lady Aranella not call you her brother?”

No such luck. “Adopted,” Roland said, “My parents passed away when I was little, same as Aranella’s. We were raised in the Castle together, so…” he shrugged and looked out to sea. Ice cracked as it was caught up in the Eternity’s wake.

“I see,” Leander said, his tone gentling. “My apologies. I did not mean to press on a sore subject.”

“It’s fine,” Roland said, shaking his head. A smile flickered across his face. “It was a long time ago, and…” He took a deep, steadying breath. “I can’t say I don’t stand out. I guess I just got used to people not asking about it.”

“An oddity, given the curious nature of the Grimalkin.” He cupped his hands in front of his mouth and blew into them again, the skin pale from the cold. His voice was muffled as he said, “Though I suppose they must have grown used to it over the years.”

“Probably.” Roland agreed, though his mind was still whirling. He would need to talk to Aranella and Evan, and soon. Work out a proper cover story that would actually pass muster before someone realized the pieces weren’t lining up. Resolving to seek them both out in the morning, he turned his attention back to the ice. “Now, can I ask you something?”

“It would be only fair.”

“You went to Neo Hydropolis before we left, right?” When Leander nodded Roland pressed on, “How is Queen Nerea doing?”

“Construction is proceeding well and—”

Roland shook his head. “I’ve read the reports, Leander,” he said gently, their shoulders brushing as he shifted his weight. “I’m not asking how the city’s coming along. I’m asking about your Queen.”

Leander blinked slowly. Once. Twice. Three times. Then, as Roland watched, a soft, tired smile spread across his face. Roland was struck by the oddest feeling that he had been the first to ask how Nerea herself was doing. His heart gave a twinge at the thought, but he shoved it aside.

“She is doing well,” Leander said in a voice nearly as soft as his expression, “She has completely recovered from her ordeal.” He paused then added, “I never did thank you for your intervention, did I? Had you all not arrived when you did…” He glanced out to sea, eyes haunted. “I dare not think of what might have happened.”

Roland hummed softly. “You don’t—” He stopped, allowed himself a quietly amused huff of air, then said, “You’re welcome. I’m just sorry we didn’t make it in time to stop Doloran entirely.”

Wasn’t that the story of their lives? Always arriving one step behind, too late to stop the disaster and only able to clean up the mess left behind. It reminded him of his life as President, really. Oh, he’d done his best for his nation, and at home things were fine, but in international relations…well. People didn’t drop missiles on major cities for no reason.

With a shudder that wasn’t from the cold, Roland shoved the thought away.

“Your lives have all changed. For the better, I hope, but…I bet it’s different.”

Leander huffed amusement. “Quite. But it is a good sort of different. I suppose one could call it re-experiencing life.” He leaned against the rail and blew out a large cloud of mist. “Is it odd that I find all of this a second chance?”

Roland shook his head. “No. Not at all.”

Or, if it was, then Roland was just as strange. He looked up to the sky, the midnight blue-black clear of all clouds this far north. The stars twinkled down at him in unfamiliar patterns, brighter than he’d ever seen them in his world. The city lights had always been too bright. Even in the hills and suburbs outside of town, the light had blotted out all but the brightest of stars. It wasn’t like that here, even in Evermore.

He wished that Alex and Trevor could see it. They would have loved it here; the fresh air, the clean skies, the kind people…they would have made it into a proper home. Evan and Trevor would have been fast friends, if given a chance.

Suddenly overwhelmed by guilt and a wash of sadness, Roland swallowed hard and looked to the deep blue sea below.

“Roland?” Leander asked quietly.

“It’s nothing,” He said, but his thoughts had turned inward. For the first time in weeks, thinking of the family he had left behind didn’t hurt as badly as it had before. Already he was forgetting their laughter, the scent of Alex’s favorite perfume, the twitch to Trevor’s lips as he’d tried to hold back a laugh at one of his father’s terrible jokes. The pain that had gripped his heart every time he’d thought of them was fading away into a chilled, blank sort of numbness.

Slow as it was, the grief was beginning to ease. What did that say about him that he was moving on so easily? It had barely been six months. Guilt and grief and loss should still have crippled him, not—

“This does not appear to be nothing, my friend,” Leander said, resting a warm hand on Roland’s shoulder. “What troubles you so?”

“I.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Just…thinking.”

“I see.” Leander replied. He squeezed Roland’s shoulder, just once, in a gesture of support that added its own lump to Roland’s throat. His hand fell back away as he said, “Take care not to let your thoughts drown you, Roland. That would aid no one.”

“I know,” Roland said. Taking a breath, he raised his eyes to the horizon. There was no point in letting despair take over. Not now. He still had work to do. When they got home, he’d figure something out.

Home. Evermore. Cold that had nothing to do with the ice gripped his heart, and it was a struggle to keep his face blank. Home. He was already calling it home. When had that happened? When had it…

When had he changed so much? He snorted quietly.

“I know,” he repeated, “but that doesn’t make it any easier sometimes.”

“No.” Leander agreed. The deck creaked beneath his feet as he shifted his weight. They stood arm to arm, eyes upon the horizon. The world seemed to soften; Roland’s stomach twisted. Leander shook his head slightly. “I suspect that nothing ever truly does.”

“Yeah,” Roland sighed. “You’re probably right about that.”

#nnk2 #ni no kuni 2 #nnk2 fic #!fic #fic: for king and country

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lonely-lost-soul · 3 years

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Under The Floorboards pt. IIII

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V

Whipping the sweat off your brow you placed the honey jars you collected on the ground, Phil really built this farm efficiently. However, that didn’t stop you needing to collect honey pots here and there, now that the vault was complete you could actually use the honey for normal things. Technoblade would never admit it but he loved when you put honey in his tea, contrary to popular belief he wasn’t a fan of plain black tea or coffee. You rolled up your sleeves and adjusted the sunhat that sat lazily on your head against your better judgment you had left your armor inside. The only thing on your person was a netherite ax Techno had enchanted for you, it was an effective weapon but without your armor, you were a bit of a sitting duck. As the bees buzzed and bumped lazily into each other, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight. They were just so silly. You picked up the crate of jars and turned around, your eyes narrowed as you saw some movement by the trees, it was still too early for Tommy and Technoblade to be back...so just who was snooping around the property. You felt very naked in your sun hat and overalls, especially if it was Dream himself that you were about to encounter. Your worry only increased as you noticed four men all in netherite armor walking towards the house, their swords were drawn. You had a feeling that these were the men who took Technoblade the day prior. They were like a little gang all dressed the same way, bloody aprons and all they really had the executioner vibes down.

“Hello, gentlemen.” You smiled giving them a wave while you adjusted the box of honey, “beautiful day isn’t it?”

The first to answer was a man who had a scar from the tip of his eyebrow down to the bottom of his lip. He sent you a smile and you noticed a tooth missing from the upper row, a navy blue beanie held his dark hair in place.

“Very beautiful, it’s always a good day when the sun is shining.” He mused the sun in question reflected beautifully across all their netherite armor. The one thing you decided to leave inside, you weren’t intimidated nope not at all. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

“(Y/N).” You responded with a hum, “Is there something that I can help you all with today?” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed two of the men moved to surround you, they thought they were slick. The only one who didn’t move was the tallest of the children there, he looked to be half Enderman. He also looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now poor thing. Drawing your gaze back to the other three men, you noticed one was Tommy’s age and had small horns atop his head, along with goat-like ears. A burn scar also took up half of his face. It made you frown distastefully, what was with these kids getting traumatized? First Tommy and now the half enderman and the goat kid, you couldn’t adopt all of them, well you could but it’d be a lot of work. The other looked to be part fox after all the big orange ears and the fluffy tail was dead give away, wait didn’t Ghostbur say his son was a fox. “Are you Fundy?” You asked, suddenly tilting your head to the side.

“How do you know my name?” Fundy’s face flushed a little and he shuffled on his feet, his hand twitching to grab the sword that was at his side.

“I talked to your father earlier today. I’m assuming that’s how you found me?” You took the hat off your head and rested it on Carl’s stable. The fox gave a reluctant nod of confirmation you licked your lips and put your hands behind your back. “So? Do you have a problem with Technoblade or just me specifically?”

“Wow, she’s not even a little bit ashamed.” Quackity mused and you frowned, “We’re here because your boyfriend blew up our country. He also disgraced our President right Tubbo? Don’t know if you’re aware of that or not but he escaped his punishment. So we intend to make him repent.” He walked towards you and you took a step away from him.

“That’s far enough thank you.” You held up your hand in hopes it would stop his trek towards you, Quackity did pause for a moment. He let out a chuckle and smiled. He thought your tough attitude was cute, but he was clearly mocking you.

Jackass.

“Quackity maybe we should leave her be...she didn’t do anything.” The young goat kid murmured his ears flicking as he looked up at you.

“Quiet Tubbo. Let the adults speak,” Quackity snapped at him before clearing his throat and looking back at you. “Listen (Y/N) was it? We’re going to have to ask that you come with us. If you don’t we’ll have to take you by force.”

“Wait, couldn't Technoblade have trained her?” The half enderman spoke holding up his finger in the air but no one seemed to pay him any attention.

“I guess force it is. Although the fight is a little unfair.” You took out your ax and twirled it in your hand, “Something tells me you don’t exactly like fair fights.” Fundy took a hesitant step backward not really wanting to lose a life for this of all things, but he pulled out his sword just in case. Clicking your tongue in distaste you sent a bloodthirsty smile their way, one that rivaled Technoblade, “Come at me.”

Without hesitation, Quackity charged at you with his sword he didn’t aim to kill, just disarm or injure. You blocked the swing with the wooden part of your ax and spun around just in time to dodge an attack from Tubbo. You managed to elbow him in the back and he stumbled forward into Quackity, the man made a grunting sound before shoving Tubbo off of him and into the snow. Fundy moved next and managed to land a hit on the side of your arm, you hissed loudly glaring daggers at the fox. His ears pressed against his head and he let out a small whimper, “sorry!”

“Don’t apologize to her!” Quackity groaned, “You guys are the worst gang ever.” He slapped his forehead as you readjusted your posture, “I have to do everything myself.” Quackity snarled charging at you again you sidestepped out of the way. As he stumbled trying to regain himself he knocked over the honey pots and they shattered against the ground. You swung your ax and managed to land a hit on him in the back of the legs, he let out a strangled yelp and fell on his face into the snow like Tubbo had done earlier. Yanking out the ax out of the leader of the gang blood splattered all over the ground and stained the snow. Little red beads dripped off the ax as you held it by your side, the man only let out another scream as it was torn out of him.

“Back. Off.” You repeated again baring your teeth with a hiss, “Turn around and go back to L’manburg and I won’t kill you. Got it.” The ax was pointed at all of them, you saw the half enderman nod vigorously,

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded rapidly grabbing Tubbo and Fundy by the arm and pulled them back, the three of them watched as Quackity snarled and backed up to join them. You watched them cower and you dropped your ax on the ground so you could press the palm of your hand into the wound on your arm. You quickly turned and ran back into your home to collect bandages and fix yourself up, blood speckled the floor as you made your way into the bathroom. You tore off your overalls and shirt, washing out the wound before wrapping your arm in bandages. You didn’t know how long you stood there in front of the mirror but you looked worse for wear.

Technoblade was going to lose his shit.

---

All Technoblade could think about on their way back to his retirement home, was you. He could only put up with Tommy for so many hours until he needed to talk to literally anyone else. He was ready to get your relaxing date night underway; he could already feel your fingers running through his hair braiding his as you went. He hummed fondly listening as the voices called him simp repeatedly, he didn’t mind this time considering he was when it came to you.

“That’s still cringe chat.” He murmured to himself as Tommy continued to scream about something in the background, “Yeah, yeah I love her.” He heard the chat flip their shit and he fondly chuckled, intermixed with their happy cries there was a distinct sound of ‘E’ as well as ‘nerd.’ He almost didn’t hear Tommy’s worried shouting. He frowned and rolled his eyes back into his skull,

“What Tommy?”

“Technoblade! Technoblade!” The teen bumped back into him, Technoblade grunted and looked down at him. He followed Tommy’s eyes and spotted the blood littered snow outside his house. Technoblade paused and his vision went red around the edges, his eyes stayed trained on the bloodstains as the voices began to roar within his skull. His head shot up and he saw the honey box spilled over on the ground, glass littered the snow, your hat hanging loosely on Carl’s old stable.

“T-Technoblade.” Tommy stuttered again looking up at the pig-man, seeing how glazed over his eyes looked. He swore steam was coming out of Technoblade’s nose and his hand drew out his pickaxe gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt his tusks grow in size and his face began to shift into his pig form. Tommy’s voice was drowned out by the flood that was the voices in his head:

‘SHE’S GONE. THEY HAVE HER. KILL THEM ALL. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. WE DEMAND BLOOD. E. SAVE HER. YOU’RE A FAILURE. YOU DIDN’T PROTECT HER. SLAUGHTER ALL OF THEM. SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. SHE NEVER HURT ANYBODY. YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’

Technoblade took a step forward to which Tommy rapidly backed up in response. He’s never seen Techno this gone before, oh shit he has it bad for (Y/N). However, Tommy didn’t make a move to stop Technoblade; he didn’t want him to release that rage on him. Technoblade walked into the house, stepping on his glasses that fell off his face. He threw his door open with a loud slam, he needed potions and he needed a new sword.

Whoever did this all their cannon lives were gone he’d make it long and torturous.

A soft voice broke him out of his stupor his entire body went rigid.

“Bubs…” He slowly turned around and came face to face with you, you looked so small, so delicate standing in the doorway. You were wearing your pajamas, soft blue with little sheep all over them. His ears twitched and his shoulders softened considerably seeing you standing safe in the doorway, however, he tensed again the minute he saw the bandages tied around your arm. Blood leaking through them, he growled eyes locking in on the spot as you made soft shushing sounds at him.

‘SHE’S HURT. SHE’S ALIVE THOUGH. BUT SHE’S HURT, THEY NEED TO PAY. ATONE FOR WHAT THEY DID TO HER. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. SPILL THEIR BLOOD THEN MAKE OUT WITH HER. SHE’LL LOVE YOU MORE IF YOU DO. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’

Technoblade jumped feeling her hand caress his cheek, “Bubs it’s alright I’m okay.” Your voice was smooth and soothing, his eyes dilated as you spoke to him. His face shifting back to normal as he breathed heavily through his nose, “See?” You brought his head down to rest against your chest, it looked uncomfortable the way that he was bending. However, he could feel your heart beating in your chest, he made a soft whimper and grabbed onto your shoulders his pink hair tickled your chin. You brought your hands up to run his fingers through his hair as he finally calmed down enough to ignore the voices for the time being. Right now they were just commenting on how nice and warm her hands were anyway.

“What happened to you? There was blood everywhere I was so scared.” His voice broke a little bit as he pulled away from you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest Technoblade had never looked so broken.

“The butcher squad came and attacked me. They wanted to use me to get to you but I fought them off just like you taught me.” You couldn’t help but smile proudly at him and he let out a disbelieving laugh. His hands moved from your shoulders to your back as he cradled you gently in his arms, you both stood there rocking back and forth together until Technoblade was satisfied.

“That’s my girl.” He finally murmured backing away from you, you flushed at the compliment. Whenever he called you that it made you flush all over, you let out a loud flustered whine and whacked him on the chest. Technoblade laughed at your flustered expression, it was a rare moment the tables were flipped like this and Technoblade was going to take full advantage of the situation. “Princess what’s with that look? Am I, thee Technoblade, making you flustered? I know I’m a lot to handle, I beat Dream once, I never die, I’m not homeless. Guess what?”

“What?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he circles you eyeing you up and down.

“I’m single.”

“Oh really?” You cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you had a girlfriend.” You twirled your hair around your fingers and you felt his strong hands rest on your waist.

“Hm I don’t think so. You might need to refresh my memory,” Technoblade mused kissing your neck tenderly.

“Well she’s stunningly gorgeous, and tough as nails,” Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back against him. “She absolutely adores you and how protective you are of her, and how much of a gentle giant you are.” He made a noise of protest and rested his chin on the top of your head. You could tell he was pouting at you,

“See, not only is that super cringe but also factually incorrect. I am not a gentle giant, I just committed vast sums of minor terrorism and I also kill orphans so what would my girlfreind say to that huh?” He huffed clicking his tongue distastefully.

“She would say that you’re right but also she sees the way you take care of Carl, and how you put up with Tommy. You’re totally brothers. That makes you at least a little bit soft”

“Not brothers and I don’t like him.”

“Right sure,” You giggled a little and kissed his chin lightly.

Technoblade let out an indignant sound before muttering, “Oh we should probably tell Tommy you aren’t kidnapped. Also discuss what to do about L’manburg now that they know you exist.” You blocked out that last part and made a beeline outside to find Tommy. The teenager in question was fumbling with his hands over by his cobblestone tower, you ran over to him and engulfed him in a hug.

“(Y/N)!” He shouted letting out a disbelieving laugh hugging you back with a childish smile. “You’re okay! Holy fuck I totally thought you were dead and shit! Technoblade was going fucking apeshit! His face went all pig like n’ shit totally thought he was gonna kill everyone for you! Not that I was worried.” He added quickly shoving you away crossing his arms.

“Of course you weren’t THE Tommy is never worried.”

“Yeah exactly Miss Blade you get me.” You smiled fondly at him and you ruffled his hair and he shouted at you to stop. You did so sensing Technoblade approach the both of you, Techno interlocked your hand with his own and squeezed it tightly. “You chill now Big T?”

“I’m always chill Tommy. Only nerds aren’t chill.” He mused with a scoff, “Hence why I always call you a nerd.”

“WHAT THE FUCK TECHNOBLADE! I AM ALWAYS CHILL! I’M THE CHILLEST MAN ALIVE I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW!”

“Stop shouting,” Technoblade groaned burying his face in your hair as you laughed fondly at their antics. Although L’manburg knew about your existence now, and although you knew Dream probably wasn’t too far behind in learning that knowledge either, you felt everything was going to be okay.

All you needed was each other, Technoblde, Tommy, Phil and you. Together you four were gonna do great things, you just knew it.

~~~

I do plan on making another part because people seem to be enjoying this story a lot more than I originally thought when I first posted it. Which is amazing thank you for all the love and support! New stuff is also in the works, thanks again for reading and enjoying! Stay safe guys! 🥰✨

#dream smp #dreamsmp x reader #technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt #minecraft fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #blood for the blood god #rp

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onecanonlife · 3 years

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Wilbur wakes up one morning to find white in his hair. This is—irritating, for several reasons, but that's all it is. An annoyance. A distraction.

There's nothing deeper at work here. There's nothing wrong at all.

(Or, the stresses of the presidency give Wilbur a white streak of hair earlier in canon, and somehow, this serves as the cry for help he can never bring himself to make.)

(word count: 5,039)

(second part) (third part) (fourth part)

--------------------

Part One

He first notices it because he chances a glance in the mirror. Not something he does often, these days, because he dislikes looking at his appearance for longer than necessary. The mirror only tends to show him his flaws and imperfections: the bags under his eyes that he can never quite hide, the way his cheekbones jut out in too-telling prominence, the way his uniform never seems to fit right lately, and not just because he almost never finds the time or energy to give it a proper wash.

So, he doesn’t look in the mirror beyond a cursory glance in the mornings as he’s dragging himself out of bed, just long enough to be sure that his veneer of professionalism is holding, because frankly, he has nothing if he doesn’t have that. No one’s called him on his slowly slipping standards just yet, and he intends to keep it that way. He is president, after all; he must lead by example, and if the nation is to be a success then he must be as well. Or at least, his citizens must believe that he is.

But this morning, his gaze lingers just ever-so-slightly longer than he normally allows. And then, his vision catches on—something. He thinks he must be mistaken, and he hasn’t the time to figure it out, really, but he can’t help but lean in closer, searching his own reflection. What he sees makes dread beat out a two-timed rhythm in his chest.

There is white in his hair.

Not much. Just a few strands. But it’s strange enough to catch his attention. There has never been white in his hair before. He can’t imagine what caused it. He’s not that old. But nevertheless, the white is present, and it’s not so obvious that someone would catch it on a first glance, probably, but it stands out enough against the dark brown of the rest of his hair that it’s not inconceivable that someone might spot it. Spot it, and then ask questions. Questions that he would not want to answer, if only because it would be ridiculous for someone to be grilling him about his hair of all things.

He doesn’t want to deal with it. That’s the only reason why he’s bothered, surely.

He’s going to be late to a meeting if he dallies for too much longer. So his gaze flicks about his room—which is fairly bare, fairly utilitarian; decorating’s been the last thing on his mind in recent weeks, and it would be a waste of time that he could be devoting to bettering his nation—and lands on a sword leaning against the wall. One that he’s barely touched recently, and that he hardly knows how to use, and certainly not well at that, but if he’s looking for a quick solution, it will serve. So he crosses the room, snatches it up, and returns to the mirror.

With one hand, he picks out the white strands. With the other, he uses the sword to slice them off. Crude, and he’s certain he gets a few brown strands as well, but it’s effective, and that’s what’s important.

It only takes a few minutes more after that to prepare himself. He emerges from his room confident, his head held high, a president ready to take on the challenges of the day. Never mind that he barely slept last night. Never mind that he’s stopped eating regularly, grabbing a bite only when his schedule allows him. Never mind that he’s been feeling jumpy of late, more anxious, that he’s taken to tracking the whereabouts of everyone around him at all times, if only to know that they’re safe. Never mind any of that. He is the president, and sacrifices must be made.

He is, after all, only as good as the country he builds.

---

The incident slips his mind in the following weeks. It’s simply not important when there are so many other things to accomplish; infrastructure and food and an economy and all the other intricacies that go into running a nation, that lead to endless stacks of paperwork for him and hopefully, prosperity for his people. All the other intricacies that, as it turns out, he has no idea how to handle, but he’s trying.

Because it’s all worth it, if it’s for them.

But one night, he’s tugging off his hat, shucking off his coat, tears already pricking at his eyes for no other reason than the feeling of being terribly, desperately overwhelmed, and he happens to glance at that hated mirror. Rather than alighting on any of the other aspects of his physicality that annoy him—most recently, it’s the fact that he always feels that he’s not standing straight enough, and that other people are judging him for his lack of professionalism—he focuses on his hair.

There’s white in it. Again.

And more of it, this time. Not too much, still, but definitely more. Enough that someone else might actually notice. He’s not sure how he didn’t, up to this point. He strides over to the glass, already tugging at his hair hard enough to hurt, and sure enough, there they are. Strands of snow white hair. Like he’s bleached them, except—he takes one and rubs it between his fingers—without the brittle quality that often-bleached hair tends to take on.

He doesn’t understand why this is happening. He can’t feel anything about it other than annoyance, because this is just one more thing to deal with, one more thing to add to the pile. And it’s made worse because it’s practically a vanity project; sure, he doesn’t want people bothering him about it, but logically, he knows that hair shouldn’t be such a big deal to him. It’s only that professionalism is important, and he already feels like he’s not doing enough in that area. Not enough to garner the respect that a good president should command, at any rate. So he needs to keep this under control.

Somehow, the thought of doing anything about it tonight is too much. Exhaustion pulls at him like anchors tied to his legs, even though he knows his sleep will be broken and fitful, as it usually is of late. He breathes in and out, slowly and deliberately, hoping to attain some measure of calm, but it doesn’t work, only makes him more aware of the tears readying themselves to fall.

It’s a disgusting display of weakness, truly. He only allows himself this because there is no one else here to see it, no one else to realize just how weak a man their president truly is. He can break down in private, as long as it doesn’t interfere with the rest of his duties. There was even a time when crying into his pillow made him feel better, if only a little, made him feel as if he was getting rid of all the emotions and incessant whispers of failure that always build up in him over the course of a day. But those times are long gone. And yet, the tears still flow.

Here, alone, in the privacy of his chambers, he can never manage to stop them. He lacks willpower.

Weakness. It’s pathetic. He knows it is.

But if he has to be weak here in order to successfully pretend at strength for everyone else, then he will put up with the self-loathing that he can’t seem to shake, and he’ll let himself cry. It’s not as if anyone will ever know about it. No one will be able to judge—except for himself, that is, but dealing with his own judgments is nothing new. In a way, it’s what keeps him going, his self-criticisms. They keep him sharp, doing what needs doing; he can always trust himself to tell himself the truth, after all, even if he can trust no one else.

He casts one more glance at his hair, disgust flooding him. He’ll trim it out in the morning, same as before. For the moment, he crosses his bare floor to his bed, slumping into it. Almost immediately, his eyes begin stinging with more intensity, and the first of the tears roll down his cheeks. He turns his face, burying it in his pillow as emotions well up in him, too many at once, washing over him and drowning him, because it’s all so much and this is the only way he can deal with them, because he has to be strong. Has to have himself together.

It truly is pathetic, how much trouble he’s having with handling this. He should be able to do better, and yet, here he is. He can’t help but wonder what they would all think if they knew. Surely, they would consider him unfit to lead them, and the trouble is, they might even be right. But that would destroy him, he thinks, if they were to believe him unworthy of their trust, of their love.

And sometimes, he wonders what Phil would say if he could see him now. But he always shies away from that. And besides, Phil doesn’t need to know. He’ll keep sending letters that emphasize the good, and Phil will be happy, and Phil will be proud of him, and—he needs to stop thinking about this.

Morning comes too soon, but he forces himself out of bed, as per usual. Cuts the white hairs until there’s no sign they were there at all, and hopes that will be the end of it.

---

The problem is, that’s not the end of it. The white hairs keep appearing, and at an increasing frequency as time goes on. It starts to be that he can’t go more than a day or two without checking for them, lest they become noticeable to literally everyone else around him.

The most troublesome thing about it, though, is that he simply doesn’t have the time to deal with it. He doesn’t have time to painstakingly comb through his hair every morning, not when there’s so many more important things he could be doing, so many tasks to accomplish, ideas to form and sign off on, an entire goddamn nation to keep afloat. He doesn’t have the time, and it’s wearing on him already, so he needs a different solution.

He considers hair dye. He could get his hands on some fairly easily, and likely surreptitiously. No one would have to know. But the trouble with hair dye would lie in finding the right color; if no one has noticed the white hairs cropping up until now, they certainly would notice if he came into the office with his hair an entirely different shade of brown. And that would make it obvious that he’s hiding something; no one dyes their hair a different shade of its original color unless they’re trying to cover something up.

Possibly, through trial and error, he could make a dye that matches his hair color exactly, or at least, close enough that the difference is imperceptible. But there’s the time issue again. He can’t waste his efforts on experimenting with hair dye when he’s meant to be trying to better the lives of his citizens, to build up a prosperous, glorious country. What kind of president would that make him? He’s already well aware that he’s not a very good one; he doesn’t need to make matters worse.

So, hair dye is impractical. He’ll revisit the idea if he truly gets desperate. But the situation as it is is untenable. He’s been having difficulty getting out of bed at all in the morning, recently, a combination of exhaustion and a strange, pervasive apathy serving to keep him under his covers long past when he should have been preparing for the day ahead, even though staying in bed longer doesn’t seem to help him catch up on sleep at all. Why he finds himself wanting to lie there, doing absolutely nothing other than staring at the ceiling for hours on end, he has no idea. He doesn’t let himself, of course, or at least, not for more than an hour or two just after dawn, but the fact remains that the temptation is there, and growing stronger every day. He can’t be spending ages on his hair every morning. It’s not feasible.

But that leaves only one real solution. And that’s to leave the white hairs as they are, and simply try to hide them. The more he considers it, the more he believes it’s the only real avenue worth pursuing. He could probably manage; his hat is a part of his uniform anyway. He rarely takes it off outside of his bedroom. So, all it will take is an extra moment of styling to make sure that all of the white has been pushed up under it. And perhaps checking a few times during the day to be sure that nothing has come loose, but that should take seconds at most. He can spare a few seconds, probably.

At the very least, it will take less time than what he’s been doing. That’s the goal here, really.

He hates that this is something that he’s having to put any amount of thought into at all. But he’s reached a decision, and the next morning, he gives it a shot. Arranges his hair so that more of it lies hidden under his hat than usual, and sets out for the day.

No one comments on it. Not this day, nor the next day, nor the next. He supposes he could consider that a success.

It does mean, of course, that the amount of white in his hair only increases as time goes by, until his hair is streaked with it. But if he’s careful, if he continues to be cautious with it, no one will know about it but him, and he can dislike it in the privacy of his own quarters. Just as he dislikes everything else.

---

On the rare occasions that he has any time to himself before retiring for the night, an instance that becomes more and more seldom as the days and weeks pass on, he often finds his feet carrying him to Niki’s. There is a safety here that is difficult to find anywhere else, even in his own quarters. Perhaps especially in his own quarters, because there is nothing warm, nothing personal about his room. Here, though, there is the scent of baking bread and cookies, a heat that gets trapped under his skin and chases the chill away, and there is, of course, Niki herself.

He finds it hard to lend too much trust to anyone these days, but Niki is an exception to that.

So, here he comes, and here he stays, when he has an hour or two to spare. He comes here, and they talk, about little things, unimportant things, about how her days have been or the latest prank that Fundy has performed—and it’s nice to hear about Fundy. He barely sees his boy, busy as he is, and it’s good to hear that he’s doing well, that he’s still the upbeat, rambunctious lad he knows and loves.

They talk about these things, and they talk about other things, and sometimes, they talk about nothing at all. Sometimes, talking is asking too much, and Niki always seems to see it, and she kneads dough and lets him sit in front of her and watch. He likes watching. The motions are repetitive, soothing. If he had the time, he might ask if he could join in; he thinks he might enjoy it, even if he’s never had a deft hand in the kitchen. But he never has the time, of course, so he just watches, for whatever time he can spare.

Today is one of those days. It’s nearing nightfall, but for once, he’s cleared his desk of a majority of his paperwork, so here he is, slumped against Niki’s counter, letting his cheek rest on the cold stone as she pats down the space in front of her with flour, rolls out her dough with a rolling pin. Cookies, then, rather than bread. He likes watching this, too, likes watching as she spreads out the dough again and again, cutting out more shapes until all the dough is gone, used up, in the oven and baking.

He likes being here in general. He could be doing other things—he told Fundy he’d take him fishing soon, for instance, but soon keeps on being put off, and he feels terrible about it, but the job has to come first. His country has to come first. Or, there’s a new redstone gimmick that Tubbo worked out that he wanted to show him, but that can probably wait for a bit. Or, Tommy wanted to watch a movie with him, he thinks, but he never has time during the day, and by the time night comes, he’s far too exhausted, so he comes here, instead. Comes to see Niki, where, somehow, the weight of all the expectations placed on him seems to lighten, if only for a little while.

He always ends up being horribly unprofessional here, in this bakery. Always ends up messing up his uniform, taking off his coat, getting a smudge of something on his face, not sitting straight enough, not keeping his shoulders set, slumping in general, a whole list of faults. But it’s harder to care when it’s Niki in front of him. Because she’s always glad to see him, and she’s one of the few people from whom he can believe that the sentiment is the truth.

But that is always, and this is now: Niki’s making cookies, the last batch of the day, and he’s watching, head resting against the table. He almost feels like he could fall asleep like this, which would be a miracle in of itself. He wouldn’t let himself, of course; a bit of unprofessionalism is one thing, but falling asleep where anyone could see him, where anyone could get to him, that is quite another.

He wonders if he should tell her any of the things he’s been thinking about. About his own ineffectiveness, about how all his work seems to amount to very little actually being done. About how he’s sure everyone is losing faith in him, and he can’t even blame them, because he’s losing faith in himself. About how in the end, he has no idea what he’s doing, and he was a fool to think that he did. About power and its nature, and who has it and who doesn’t, and about how his words might not amount to very much at all, actually.

Probably not. He’s not sure she would understand. And he shouldn’t burden her with his troubled mind.

So he just watches, and lets himself drift a little.

“Rough day today?” Niki asks, working her rolling pin, smoothing out all the clumps.

“No worse than usual,” he says. “It’s just tiring.”

Niki hums. He likes when she does that. From someone else, it might sound dismissive, but when she does it, it means the opposite, means she’s considering all of your words, giving them due thought.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been tired a lot, lately,” she says. She sets the rolling pin to the side, picking up a cookie cutter. It’s leaf-shaped. For autumn, he assumes. Outside, the trees are beginning to change colors, though the shift to reds and oranges and yellows won’t really get going for a few more weeks. It’s that hazy, indistinct time of year when it’s not still summer and not yet fall, too hot for one and too cool for the other.

Not that he’s been paying that much attention. It’s been a while since he was outside for any significant length of time. Or rather, for a reason other than approving construction or checking on borders or something of the like. For a reason not presidentially important.

“It’s a tiring job,” he says. “Who would’ve thought? I’m alright, though. It’s well within the bounds of what I can handle.”

“Have you been getting enough sleep?” she asks. She presses the cutter into the dough. Lifts it. Pushes the shape out of the cutter and onto her baking sheet. Repeats.

He laughs, quietly. “I don’t need you to mother hen me, Niki,” he says, and without looking up, she reaches across the counter and swats him on the arm.

“I am not mother henning,” she says. “I’m being your friend. Your eyebags could hold second, smaller eyebags in them.”

“What, you don’t think I’m gorgeous?” he asks wryly, and she snorts.

“I’m sure someone out there would,” she says. “Tiredness has to be considered hot somewhere.”

“Mm. I think I’m hot. Very sexy.”

“You would think so.” She’s got enough cookies on the sheet for a batch, now. The next step is to put the sheet on a pan and put the pan in the oven, and that’s exactly what she does. It pleases him that he has the steps memorized. “I’m serious, though, if you have too much work to do, give some to your cabinet. I’m sure Tommy or Tubbo would love to help out more. Or Fundy.”

“Fundy’s too young.” It’s a bit of a longstanding argument between them. He tries not to let it get to him.

“And the other two aren’t?” She returns from the oven, an eyebrow raised, and then goes for another baking sheet. She’s still got dough left to roll out. One more batch will do it, he thinks. “You—oh, wait a moment.”

He watches bemusedly as she leaves the counter again and crosses to her sink, washing off her hands and then dampening a dishtowel. He’s not sure what she’s doing; it doesn’t make sense to wash up when she still has another batch to make. Her hands will just get dirty again. But now she’s walking back over, towel extended toward him and—now she’s rubbing it on his head. He blinks as a corner of the towel flops over his eye.

“Sorry, I got a lot of flour in your hair,” she says. “I’ll get it, hang on.”

And then, her motions slow, and then stop.

“It’s not coming out,” she says slowly. “Wilbur, did you dye your hair?”

The question doesn’t make any sense at all, at first. Because no, of course he hasn’t dyed his hair. Part of the whole problem is that he doesn’t have time to dye his hair. Not properly. Not in a way that no one would notice.

And then his brain realizes that that’s not what she’s asking about at all. Realizes that he’s been lying with his cheek resting against the counter for the past half hour, face parallel with the surface it’s resting on. Realizes that his hat has long passed the point of being merely askew and is now barely touching his head at all. Realizes that his hair is splayed out for anyone to look at.

He shoots upright, grabbing his hat and slamming it down on his head. Too late, of course; the damage has been done. Niki jerks back at the suddenness of his motion. Her damp towel drips a bit.

“No,” he says instinctively, and then curses himself, because—because hair dye would work as an excuse, wouldn’t it? A reason for why it’s like that? It might get her to not push further, and he’s not even sure why it’s so important to him that she doesn’t, because it’s Niki of all people, and Niki won’t use this against him later. Probably. Hopefully. Most likely. Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t want her to worry, because he knows that she will, even though it’s not a big deal at all and her efforts would be better expended on other problems, other people.

Fuck, wait, it’s been too long since he said something. Can he still change his answer without arousing suspicion?

“Yes,” he says, and internally cringes. It was definitely too late for that, because Niki’s just staring at him now, eyes wide. “Um, yeah, I thought it’d be fun. And then it went a bit wonky, so I’ve been covering it up. It doesn’t look very nice, does it?”

Is this what he’s been reduced to? Lying to one of his closest friends?

Gods, he’s pathetic.

“It looks fine,” Niki says, in that soft tone of voice she uses when she either doesn’t know what’s going on or doesn’t know how to proceed without scaring someone off. Like she’s talking to a frightened animal. “Wil, are you—are you really alright?”

“Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Her mouth works for a second.

“Wilbur,” she says, just that, and something in his chest turns hot, wrenches all around, squeezes, and for a brief, panicked second, he thinks he’s having a heart attack. But no, he can feel his heart pounding. A bit faster than it should be, if anything, but strong. His vision blurs, too, but he blinks hard, and everything comes back into focus. Which might be a mistake, because if anything, Niki looks even more distressed.

“Wil, please, you can talk to me if something’s wrong,” she says, and he laughs, shaking his head and standing. His stool scrapes against the floor, loud and grating to his ears.

“There’s nothing wrong, Niki,” he says. “You don’t need to worry so much. Though I have realized, I do have a bit more work to do tonight, so I should probably get back to it.” He smiles at her, though she doesn’t smile back. “But it was very good to talk to you. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Wilbur—”

He’s already leaving. His chest feels tight again. Tight and hot. For absolutely no reason at all, because even if Niki did ask him more questions, it’s just hair, for crying out loud. It’s hardly the end of the world.

But he needed out of there. He doesn’t quite understand why.

His parting words were not a lie. He does have a bit more work to do. There is always a bit more work to do. The work never ends. He can’t actually remember the last time he didn’t have work to do. Before getting independence, surely. Back when he still felt entirely sure that he could do this, that he could build a country, that peace through words was a sustainable option, that he could look at the mess of things that need to be done to form an effective nation and actually accomplish them.

He tries not to think about that.

But instead of to his office, his feet carry him back to his room. To his blank walls and floor, his few pieces of furniture, his few sets of the same uniform. He really does need to get around to washing them. His gaze falls on his sword, next, still leaning against the wall, and then his guitar, propped up in the corner. There’s a layer of dust collecting on it. He should clean it off. That’s not good for the wood or the strings, and he’s sure it’s terribly out of tune. How long has it been since the last time he played?

There’s no time for music, nowadays. Not when other things need to take priority. He’s got a country to run; he can’t be wasting his time. He can’t afford to.

But rather than do anything productive, he winds up in front of the mirror. He takes off his hat, though it’s almost unnecessary; his hair sticks out from under it every which way, after how he shoved it on so carelessly. He hopes no one was watching him as he returned here.

There is a broad white streak in his hair. Right in the front, right where people tend to look. He tugs at it, and his scalp stings. He’s not sure what else he was expecting.

He definitely can’t cut it out now. It’s far past that point; people will definitely notice if he goes about with a whole chunk of hair missing. And they’ll also still notice if he dyes it, so that problem remains.

He just needs to be more careful, that’s all. The thing with Niki was a foible. An error on his part, a lapse in judgment. He’ll take more care from now on to ensure it doesn’t happen again.

He lets out a shaky breath, and then, he blinks and finds himself kneeling on the floor, still in front of the mirror. He looks at himself, and then immediately looks away, because he can’t stand what he sees. It’s not just the white streak, though that’s awful enough on his own; it’s all the inadequacies stacked together, all the imperfections that he can’t help but pick out, all the screaming signs that seem to point directly toward his own incompetency.

It’s a wonder no one else has seen it yet.

Tears burn his eyes, and he can’t seem to blink them away. They go rolling down his cheeks, and he watches their progress in his reflection as best he can. His breathing hitches, and a small gasp escapes him, and he can’t have that, can’t make too much noise, so he stuffs a fist in his mouth.

He’s fine. The fit will pass, and he’ll be fine. He’ll spend the next three or four hours in bed staring at the ceiling, wishing he could fall asleep, and then, at last, he will, and he’ll wake up in the morning feeling more tired than ever, and he’ll drag himself out of bed because he has to, because he’s got responsibilities that he can’t shirk, even if he can’t fulfill any of them well enough. And he’ll be fine, because he can’t afford to not be, because he’s got a country on his shoulders and that means he needs to keep standing.

He’ll be fine. He is fine.

He is.

He still can’t bring himself to look in the mirror. The next morning, he covers it with a sheet, and tells himself that it’s not a defeat.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #nihachu #niki nihachu #alivebur #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #cw depression #cw self-hatred #in general his mental state isn't great #but anyway! here's part one of that president wilbur fic i mentioned a few days ago!#there will be a part two so stay tuned #just in case anybody got to the end and was like... where's the rest of it #it'll be posted once i manage to get it finished!!

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP Recap (March 17/2021) - Ranboo’s Story

Everyone is building on the Dream SMP today. Phil works on his projects in the Arctic, Foolish continues construction on the massive mansion, Niki works on her underground city.

Ranboo takes some time to do something else: tell his entire story as it stands so far, in preparation for what’s to come.

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Hbomb94

Foolish

Tubbo

Philza

Ranboo

Hannah

Niki

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- Ponk meets Niki at the Community House. She notices his red eyes.

- Niki leads Ponk to her haven city for a tour. Ponk thinks it’s a pyramid scheme. Maybe a cult.

- Ponk asks if there’s a jail in this city.What happens if someone does something bad? Niki explains that they just get thrown out. She’s friends with some powerful people.

Ponk: “Look. With friends come conflict, Niki. Just remember that. Wilbur was Tommy’s friend, look what happened! ...So I’d be careful who you trust. But I may be coming back here soon, maybe to join you.”

- Ponk says his goodbyes and leaves the city. Definitely a cult.

- Tubbo visits Michael and decides to plan out what rooms he wants for the mansion. He speaks with Foolish to discuss the layout.

- Tubbo and Foolish work on the mansion

- Hbomb logs in and chats with Niki as she works on the underground city.

- Phil works on the Syndicate room.

- Ranboo shows Phil the infested stone he collected

- Quackity whispers to Phil “Look Gorgious” and leaves

- Phil keeps working. Foolish calls him over to Snowchester.

- Foolish tells Phil the mansion is for Michael and Phil points out Michael is tiny.

- Foolish shows him the list of requests

- Phil gives Foolish “fool’s gold” (honey)

- Phil visits Foolish and puts on his canonical glasses (shaders)

- They go back to the Prime Path and put on creeper heads to become Sam.

- They briefly visit L’manhole and Phil tells Foolish he used to live there.

- They go scouting around Eret’s castle and then head back to the Arctic.

- Before Foolish can come into Phil and Techno’s territory, Phil asks Foolish how he feels about government. Foolish says he’s neither pro nor anti. He’s never been a part of a government, since all that ended before he joined the server.

- Foolish does his shift dance. Phil throws him some real gold.

- Foolish leaves and Phil continues working

- Phil does acid (shaders) in L’manburg

- He explores the bottom of the crater. Phil feels no regret about what happened.

People can’t be replaced, but things can. As someone who’s been around for a long time, who’s seen people pass over hundreds of years, people are so much more important than possessions as a result of that.

- He’s lived for so long he’s forgotten for how long, but at least hundreds of years.

- Phil’s known Techno since Techno was young.

- Foolish returns to the mansion. He speaks with Tubbo about the layout again.

- Foolish commits arson on James

- Niki accidentally dug into the Kinoko Kingdom library while working on her city. It will either be the spark of a beautiful friendship, or a war.

- Her Syndicate name is Nemesis

- After more work in the Nether, Phil goes to Niki’s underground city for a visit.

- Niki gives him a tour, and Phil drops off the quartz

---

Ranboo’s Lore Recap: The Story So Far

---

Ranboo logs in at Spawn. He went outside, punched some trees, got killed by Dream a couple times (non-canonically), got a tour from Niki.

The next day, he got a tour from the President of L’manburg, who asked if he was going to run for President. Ranboo decided to live in L’manburg. He shaped Ranboo’s beliefs at the beginning, that L’manburg was good. They went to the Nether and found Michael, and put him in a boat.

Then, they were approached by Tommy, who told them about his plan: to grief George’s house. As they walked over, Niki and Puffy (on their date) were there. Ranboo and Tommy asked for Niki’s armor and went over to George’s house to do it. They ran off after burning it down by accident.

Niki and Puffy knew it was them and asked, but Ranboo realized…he didn’t remember.

Dream started building a wall around L’manburg, and they didn’t know why. He showed them George’s house. It got blamed on Tommy.

During the trial, Tommy stood up for Ranboo and so Ranboo didn’t take the blame, as he had bad memory.

They decided to meet with Dream and created the Meeting Hall, and for the meeting, Ranboo became the minutes man of L’manburg.

There was a pig guy watching them during the meeting.

The meeting didn’t go well; Tommy used Spirit as leverage to get Dream to take down the walls, but then Dream stopped and told them he didn’t care about Spirit, only the discs.

There was another meeting set up. Ranboo realized writing stuff down to remember it was a good idea, so he created the first “Do Not Read” book.

He watched from the ground as the cabinet met with Dream on the wall. Ranboo saw Tommy being taken away for some reason — he’d been exiled. Ranboo felt guilty.

Back in L’manburg, things were going great! Ranboo had a house now, pets…but the guilt remained. Ranboo visited Tommy in exile a couple times, and things seemed off, so Ranboo wrote letters to him to try and help.

One day, while writing in his book, starting an ice cream shop with Fundy…he was approached by this fellow named Quackity. Quackity told him about this wanted pig guy, Technoblade, the reason everything was gone — Techno was a traitor, and Quackity had plans to get Techno and bring him to justice.

The first Butcher Army meeting was held. Ranboo was a bit confused, but decided to help, because betraying someone’s pretty bad. So they all went off to fight Technoblade. Quackity got a horse named Carl, and Techno surrendered, and though Ranboo thought there’d be a fair trial, there was just an execution. Techno miraculously survived, ran off, and Quackity was killed.

While this was happening, Phil — who had saved him from lava one time when he was trapped — was apparently helping Techno, the traitor. So L’manburg put him on house arrest, and he wasn’t happy about that. Ghostbur called Ranboo an “Aaron Burr” and went with Ranboo on a trip to then snow…to Techno’s place.

Ranboo still had Techno’s armor, Techno tried to kill him, then Ranboo gave all his armor back. Someone else was there was well — Tommy.

Ranboo wrote all of this down in his Memory Book and returned to L’manburg, told them that he had no idea where Techno or Tommy were…at which point Ranboo realized…he’d just betrayed the entire Butcher Army.

The next few days, Ranboo kept seeing Techno and Tommy around with a lot of dogs. He continued to write things down, being kind of on both sides. Ranboo decided he couldn’t choose and instead would help everyone.

Things were going fine. L’manburg was planning a Festival to kill Dream, as Dream would finally respect the laws of L’manburg and attend with no armor. Ranboo made a trident game.

At some point, Ranboo created a fake memory book that got burnt by Skeppy around Christmas during Skeppy’s sister’s visit.

Before the Festival, Ranboo realized he’d lost his Memory Book. He found it in a chest…but that wasn’t where he’d put it. How did it get there?

Ranboo created a panic room out of obsidian, a place to reckon with his morals, a place to think. The water created white noise that helped him think. It was there that he decided to stop choosing sides, and start choosing people.

The day of the Festival, Ranboo secretly met with Techno and Tommy in Purpled’s Skull Base. Dream arrived and started building the wall again.

Dream led them all over to the Community House, and they all saw that it was completely destroyed. It was apparently Techno and Tommy, who shortly arrived. Tommy and Tubbo fought, Dream asked for Techno’s help to blow up L’manburg the next day. Then, Dream told them that Ranboo was a traitor. He gave Tubbo a little book — the first Memory Book.

Ranboo thought he had the Memory Book on him. How could it have been switched? He opened up the one he had, but…all that was left was a smile. And that smile symbolized his betrayal. This was the second Memory Book, the replacement.

At the announcement of Doomsday, everyone somewhat banded together. Ranboo gave a speech, that if they kept trying to save L’manburg, it would just keep causing problems. People were looking at Ranboo, the eye contact made him aggravated, he lashed out at his friends.

He went back to the Panic Room, started talking to himself, thinking about what he would do. Would he help or not? It was at that point that he began to hear something — something that was Ranboo…a voice. A voice that sounded like Dream. It told Ranboo the last thing he wanted to hear: that by trying to help everyone, he’d betrayed everyone. Ranboo didn’t believe him, thought he’d only given the armor to Techno. The voice left, and Ranboo decided the best thing he could do was help. Help the people who helped him: L’manburg.

He was still missing something: the first Memory Book.

It was time for Doomsday. The dogs, the Withers, the explosions all started, and L’manburg went. The people who’d been for L’manburg suddenly switched. But out of all of this, Ranboo heard something. He heard Techno ask, “What’s this ‘Do Not Read’ book?”

Ranboo ran to Techno, who gave it to him and told him to run. Techno showed him mercy.

Ranboo talked with Fundy after, he’d hurt Fundy. Ranboo talked with Quackity, who seemed to forgive him, because he’d read Ranboo’s Memory Book. He’d been the one to have the book, and he read it.

Ranboo visited the Panic Room, not knowing what to do…

Someone came and asked if he was okay: Phil. Phil offered him a home with himself and Techno, and they got along.

He thought he was safe, and everything was good, and that’s when he heard a disc: Mellohi, from someplace very far away. It was from the Panic Room, so he went back. He took out the disc, and an old friend came back: the voice. This time, the Dream voice told him that he was more of a traitor than he thought. It told him that he’d been helping Dream this entire time, he just didn’t remember. It told him he blew up the Community House. But the voice wasn’t Dream, Ranboo figured it was just a voice trying to fill the gaps between his memories. It told Ranboo to mine a block, behind which were two pieces of TNT.

Ranboo kept chilling with Techno and Phil, build himself a place to live. It was at this time that Tommy and Tubbo were planning on trying to get their discs back.

For a while, Ranboo lived in solitude. For the first time in a while, he was happy. He decided he was done living in fear of the Dream voice, and went to confront it, to tell it that there’s no way he helped Dream. The Dream voice told him he had one of the discs. Ranboo thought there was no way, so he went back to his house and searched, and dug up a chest with the Cat disc inside.

Ranboo realized that something was going on. He realized he’d been sleepwalking, of sorts.

Something happened: Tommy and Tubbo were going to fight Dream. Everyone thought they were probably going to die, and…what happened after that?

Dream was put in prison, Ranboo started to be able to pick up blocks, and Ranboo decided to call this state: Enderwalking.

Everything seemed fine, besides the giant Egg. The prison was open for visitation, and Ranboo had a good idea: what if he visited Dream? Everything went normally, except Dream told him exactly what he didn’t want to hear: that apparently, he and Dream had been talking in his Enderwalk, and Ranboo was one of Dream’s best friends. Dream handed Ranboo his own Memory Book. The entire chest was full of Memory Books. The prison started to crumble, Dream disappeared and then…Ranboo guessed the entire visit had just been the Dream voice but…worse. He decided to keep his head down for the time.

Ranboo needed to visit the prison again, but for real this time, to actually get closure. He went up to Sam, made his way to the lobby, and told Sam it was his first time visiting — which he thought it was. Sam thought he was joking around. Sam told him that he’d visited before…the Enderwalk. Sam showed Ranboo the books, and they were written in Enderman.

Sam told Ranboo he had a book on him — Ranboo now had a third Memory Book, but there was nothing in the books about any visit.

There must have been a fourth book.

Ranboo, to this day, still does not know where that fourth book is. This fourth book…it wasn’t a Memory Book. It was a book of the Enderwalk.

So for the time being, Ranboo tried to work against the Enderwalk, but nothing worked. So…he was just kind of living. His beacon disappeared, his tools kept getting to low durability randomly. He didn’t know why. He just decided to stop getting involved in things and just keep living.

Ranboo visited Snowchester, he did cool things with Techno, he was happy.

Then, he got married for tax reasons and decided to build a hotel to rival Tommy’s with Tubbo.

Then, one day, after saving Michael, after everything, they received news: Tommy had died. And Sam had just let it happen.

Another day, in his house, Ranboo decided he should just relax. He saw Niki outside and wondered what she was doing there. Techno offered him a place in an anarchist organization called the Syndicate. Ranboo decided to join, he told them that Tommy died.

Then Tommy was alive. Somehow he was alive.

Ranboo was brought to a room with two shrines and a hallway with a place for everyone's treasured items. He started to remember, started to hear things. Dream had a revive book. Tommy and Tubbo didn't die because everyone went there and saved them, but Ranboo didn't remember this.

Ranboo realized that Dream had to be stopped before he brought back the villains, and...then he'll finally be happy. He has Michael to protect now.

He was hanging around with Tubbo when they were approached by Tommy, who had the same idea. Ranboo agreed. They began to build a watchtower, Ranboo spoke with Ghostbur, who didn't seem like he wanted to go.

And now? Ranboo is trying to figure out a way to kill Dream. But there's also a larger issue to figure out.

He figures that Dream gave him a set of instructions while he visited the prison in the Enderwalk, and Ranboo needs to find a way to stop the Enderwalk.

It hasn't happened in a while, right? Maybe he already has.

So now, Ranboo is figuring out the Enderwalk and protecting Michael at all costs, even if he might have to lose a little bit of life…

And that is the story so far.

[This story was told as c!Ranboo — not really, but if Ranboo could collect his entire story and tell it. So some things have been left out.

For example, Sapnap giving Ranboo the message…]

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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booksbookssomemoviesandbooks · 3 years

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Book Recs

Hello! so for my first post, I'll recommend some books, so y'all can have a closer look at some fandoms I'll post about! enjoy!!

Harry Potter By J.K. Rowling is definitely an interesting, well-written series! there are 7 books however, and the books get bigger as the series progresses. It's sometimes difficult to know the exact order, so I'll list it below:

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone)

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Although the movies are great, they don't include all the amazing details, as with all movies. A short summary:

Harry Potter, a young boy who’s being constantly abused by his uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia, gets a peculiar letter from the magical school of Hogwarts, where he spends most of his time, becoming his home.

Quotes:

“To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." ― Albus Dumbledore

“You’re just as sane as I am" - Luna Lovegood

“Mischief managed" - Fred and George Weasley

It is Important to know that j*r is a huge transphobe, along with other things, and is currently being erased by the fandom itself.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians, along with the other series by Rick Riordan, is a definite must-read. With each book, you can really notice the character developments and a lot more! There is loads of representation in this one, with lgbtqia+ characters, black characters, Muslim characters and more. It's very action-packed and addicting, sucking you into the magnificent world of Half-Bloods and Demigods within the first page. The first series consists of 5 books, in the following order:

Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief

Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters

Percy Jackson and the Titan's Curse

Percy Jackson and the Battle of The Labyrinth

Percy Jackson and the Last Olympian

THE MOVIES ARE TRASH SO I DEFINITELY DO NOT RECOMMEND WATCHING THEM BEFORE READING THE BOOKS!!! There were many changes and the movies aren't nearly as good as the books. A short summary:

Percy Jackson, a 12 year-old who lives with his mother, Sally, and step-father, Gabe, attends the private boarding school Yancy Academy. While on a school trip, his teacher, Mrs. Dodds, turns into a fury and attacks him. This, in turn, triggers a series of other problems and adventures.

Quotes:

“If my life is going to mean anything, I have to live it myself.” - Percy Jackson

“With great power, comes great need to nap. Wake me up later." - Nico Di Angelo

“Even strength has to bow down to wisdom sometimes." - Annabeth Chase

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins is one of my most recommended series! With everything it deals with, from the Capitol to the districts to the champions, the books are amazing!

Order:

The Hunger Games

Catching Fire

Mockingjay

Starring the movies is the amazing Jennifer Lawrence, but with all books, the movies have slight differences, although I definitely recommend watching them when you're done with the books.

A Short Summary:

In what was once North America, the Capitol of Panem maintains its hold on its 12 districts by forcing them each to select a boy and a girl, called Tributes, to compete in a nationally televised event called the Hunger Games. Every citizen must watch as the youths fight to the death until only one remains. District 12 Tribute Katniss Everdeen has little to rely on, other than her hunting skills and sharp instincts, in an arena where she must weigh survival against love.

(FILM SYNOPSIS)

Quotes:

"May the odds be ever in your favor." - Effie Trinket

"Fire is catching, and if we burn, you burn with us!" - Katniss Everdeen

“Hope is the only thing stronger than fear.” - President Snow

Divergent is another book with a huge fandom, and rightfully so. This book is amazing, and you honestly can't live without having read it!

Order:

Divergent

Insurgent

Allegiant

Surprisingly, I haven't watched the movies yet, but I hear that they aren’t that bad, so you should give them a go!

Summary:

In a world run by fictional classes known as factions, children who reach the age of 16 begin to choose which factions they wish to call home for the rest of their lives. Each faction comes with its own ups and downs, so it's definitely a hard choice, especially for someone as unique as Beatrice.

Quotes:

“Becoming fearless isn't the point. That's impossible. It's learning how to control your fear, and how to be free from it“ - Four

“We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another.” - Dauntless Motto

"We are not the same. But we are, somehow, one." - Tris

You might have heard of this series, and it's really addictive, trust me! The Mortal Instruments is one of the most astonishing books I've ever read, and it's most definitely my go-to when recommending a book series!

Order:

City of Bones

City of Ashes

City of Glass

City of Fallen Angels

City of Lost Souls

City of Heavenly Fire

Again, (I know this is rather disappointing) I haven't watched the movies, but do check them out!

Summary:

Clary Fray's search for her missing mother leads her into an alternate New York called Downworld, filled with mysterious faeries, hard-partying warlocks, not-what-they-seem vampires, an army of werewolves, and the demons who want to destroy it all.

via: https://shadowhunters.com/shadowhunters-novels/the-mortal-instruments/#:~:text=Clary%20Fray's%20search%20for%20her,want%20to%20destroy%20it%20all.

Quotes:

“Heroes aren't always the ones who win. They're the ones who lose, sometimes. But they keep fighting, they keep coming back. They don't give up. That's what makes them heroes.” - Clary Fairchild

“If I cannot move Heaven, I will raise Hell.” - Sebastion Morgenstern

“The descent into Hell is easy.” - Motto of the Nephilim

Gay. What more needs to be said?

SADLY, there isn't a movie yet, but I think they're working on one, or sure though

Summary:

Set in a world in which a female Democrat from Texas wins the presidency in 2016, Red, White & Royal Blue chronicles the illicit romance between the president's son, Georgetown senior Alex Claremont-Diaz (Dad is a Mexican-American senator), and Prince Henry of Wales, his childhood nemesis.

Via: https://www.wsj.com/articles/red-white-royal-blue-book-summer-beach-read-11565285001#:~:text=Set%20in%20a%20world%20in,of%20Wales%2C%20his%20childhood%20nemesis.

Also, classic enemies-friends-lovers arc and honestly it's amazing

Quotes:

“As your mother, I can appreciate that maybe this isn’t your fault, but as the president, all I want is to have the CIA fake your death and ride the dead-kid sympathy into a second term.” - Ellen Claremont

" 'that’s because you can’t hear all the menacing gobbling.' 'Yes, famously the most sinister of all animal sounds, the gobble.' " - Harry and Alex

"History, huh? Bet we could make some." - Alex

I’m sure you've heard at least a little bit about this book. While not nearly as famous as ones mentioned above, it's still just as good, of not better. I'd say this book is one of my favorites, to be honest. It speaks about a lot of topics people usually find disturbing, and it makes me so happy that it's there, it's written, it's amazing. PTSD, coming out issues, abusive relationships and more, this book is truly awesome.

TRIGGER WARNING

Summary:

A young boy named Charlie usually dissociates, and pushes other people away. He’s afraid of beginning high school, until he meets two other students who show him how bizarre and amazing the world is.

Quotes:

“And in that moment, I swear we were infinite” - Charlie

“We accept the love we think we deserve” - Mr. Anderson

“You can't just sit there and put everybody's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love" - Sam

This book is honestly pro-feminist and I think that's much more than enough

Summary:

Kaur explores the true impact of sexual abuse and harassment, as well as the difficulties of immigrating, being a female, and depression.

It's also a poem

TRIGGER WARNING

Quotes:

“what is stronger

than the human heart

which shatters over and over

and still lives”

“you do not just wake up and become the butterfly

- growth is a process”

“on the last day of love

my heart cracked inside my body"

This book isn't very well-known, which really sucks because I really love how it speaks about the consequences of WWII from the German point of view. And about the Germans who did not believe in Hitler's ways. It's also based on a real story, and it's so cool

Summary:

A nurse working in a nursing home meets a peculiar old lady who decides to tell her her story when she meets the nurse's younger son, Karl, who reminded her of her brother. Lizzie (the old lady) speaks about life in Dresden before the war, and even after it. She also tells them the story about the strange, magnificent elephant in her garden.

Quotes:

“That was the only way of keeping our hopes alive, by looking beyond all we were seeing around us, and the shadow of disaster that hung over us.” -

“I think I have always had a strong sense of justice, of fair play, of what is right and what is wrong.” -

“Our home should be an oasis of peace and harmony for us in a troubled world.” - Lizzie (Quoting Papi)

10.

This book is pro-blm and it's ahead of its time (by like 2 years but still).

Summary:

Sixteen-year-old Starr Carter moves between two worlds: the poor neighborhood where she lives and the fancy suburban prep school she attends. The uneasy balance between these worlds is shattered when Starr witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend Khalil at the hands of a police officer. via: https://socialjusticebooks.org/the-hate-u-give/#:~:text=Sixteen%2Dyear%2Dold%20Starr%20Carter,hands%20of%20a%20police%20officer.

Quotes:

“Sometimes you can do everything right and things will still go wrong. The key is to never stop doing right.” - Lisa

“Daddy once told me there’s a rage passed down to every black man from his ancestors, born the moment they couldn’t stop the slave masters from hurting their families. Daddy also said there’s nothing more dangerous than when that rage is activated.” - Starr

“Everybody wants to talk about how Khalil died,” I say. “But this isn’t about how Khalil died. It’s about the fact that he lived. His life mattered. Khalil lived!” I look at the cops again. “You hear me? Khalil lived!” - Starr

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johannstutt413 · 4 years

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(requested by calligomiles)

Waking up every morning in a proper bed, in a proper building, with proper heating and air conditioning and water and and andandand- Waking up, period, was a strange experience for FrostNova since she’d arrived at Rhodes Island. Or rather, since she’d found herself in a bed at Rhodes Island, saved by the grace of whatever god presided over what remained of Terra and the mind-numbingly massive effort invested in the attempt to resuscitate her, every day had a dream-like quality to it, as if none of this was truly happening anymore. Her Oripathy, which she’d been sure would be the death of her, was stabilized, albeit on the precipice of falling apart should she even attempt to use her powers, so like many of Rhodes Island’s patients, she found herself busying herself with her recovery and administrative work. And it was during said work that she first encountered the red-hot mistress of the King’s Wand, Skyfire.

While Frost was processing a requisition for a flame-retardant robe (where did they come up with these things?), the Feline burst into her office. “You!”

“You seem to recognize, but I don’t recognize you.” She looked up from her keyboard. “How may I help you?”

“Spare me the pleasantries, witch. You were part of Reunion before coming here, yes?”

She sighed. “Yes, before coming to my senses, I aided Reunion. I have since repented of my foolishness.”

“The only repentance you deserved was being disintegrated.” Skyfire’s outfit was beginning to smolder. “Fortunately, I’m here to oblige you.”

“If you wish.” FrostNova, with a sigh, continued with her work.

She couldn’t believe it. Ignoring someone who was threatening her directly - the nerve of this woman! “Any last words?”

“Tell the Doctor,” she replied, without missing a beat, “whoever keeps burning through their clothing should ask for an inhibitor when outside of combat.”

“‘Whoever keeps burning their-’ what do you mean, an inhibitor?” As the Feline said the words, there was a snap as the elastic holding her bra in place came undone.

The Cautus noted this and carried on. “As a practical measure, those of us with dangerously powerful Arts can wear certain garments or accessories designed to limit their ability to leverage those powers. One of the less carefree members of Reunion made one for me in the hope it would meaningfully extend my lifespan, and while it was not entirely sufficient, if I’d made more regular use of it, it could have been. Miss Skyfire, I presume?”

“...Yes, that’s me.” She sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. “Did the sound of my strap breaking give me away?”

“The smoke you emitted as a result did, at the least. If you would like, I can have a request in the Doctor’s hands by the end of the day for an inhibitor to be made for you.”

Skyfire thought for a moment before sighing. “Do so, then.”

“I’ll begin as soon as you’ve apologized to me.” In truth, she was already working on it, but she did want an apology. “You did threaten to kill me just now, after all.”

“...I’m sorry. Ever since Reunion killed the Wand’s beloved, we- I haven’t been able to forgive them. They must atone with their lives. For what they did.”

Yelena nodded. “I can understand the sentiment, but consider: did the man who killed this Phil already die?”

“They did not.” The Feline began smoldering again. “They escaped in the riot that followed.”

“I see. That is rather unfortunate. May I suggest you do limit the scope of your hatred to those deserving it, nonetheless? In this case, the ones immediately responsible for Phil’s demise?”

She stared at the Cautus disbelievingly. “Why do you care about the fate of these criminals?”

“Many had little choice in where their allegiance fell - without a better alternative, they flocked to those who made great promises with honeyed words, or were forced to join the mob by those rushing forward behind them.” She looked back at Skyfire. “But there are certainly some I would like to freeze where they stand and watch the life leech out of their eyes.”

“...That’s fair. I’m glad we came to an understanding.”

Yelena nodded. “Certainly. The Doctor should have that request in his inbox before the end of today. Is there anything else you need?”

“No.” She turned to leave. “I’ve research to attend to. Enjoy your evening.”

“Likewise.” ‘...Did my nerves play tricks on me, or did I feel the room heat up when she walked into my office?...’

-- -- --

A few days went by, and Yelena heard nothing more from the spitfire Skyfire. She assumed that either she’d gotten her inhibitor, and ergo she didn’t need to come see her again, or she hadn’t and decided to take the problem to the Doctor themselves. Either way, FrostNova had other things on her mind, so why should it matter?

...It mattered because it had been years since she’d felt even that tiny bit of warmth, and damn it all, she wanted to feel it again. During her time with Reunion, it seemed like that warmth was impossible to find, but now she had hope again, and if there’s one thing Yelena had learned from being saved by Rhodes, it was that sometimes hope was the key ingredient to making something possible. Fortunately for her, she had an opportunity not longer after coming to this decision when the Caster found her at lunch.

“Good afternoon, FrostNova.” Skyfire sat in the chair across from her. “I wanted to thank you for the inhibitor request; it’s been three days since I destroyed my clothes, and not for lack of trying.”

“I’m happy to have helped.” She would have continued, but after spending five hours in her office with minimal contact with other people, her communicative powers were somewhat shot.

The Feline wasn’t done, however. “There’s a side effect that I was hoping you might know how to deal with, since you’ve had one for longer. When I have to take it off at night, I emit a lot of excess heat, which means that now, rather than burning through my clothes, I’ve incinerated three sets of sheets in four days. Do you know where I could find a heat sink?”

“A heat sink?” Ah. Well, this was as good a chance as any. “I happen to sponge heat rather well.”

“That would be fine.”

Should have known that was too- wait. “I expected you to be less open to the idea.”

“Why wouldn’t I accept your help?” She shrugged. “I’ve grown accustomed to others seeing me without my clothes as a side effect of my Arts, and if it solves my problem as well, I’ve only gained from it...More than that, however, I think I know why you’re volunteering.”

“You know about my condition, then?”

Skyfire blinked. “Condition?”

“You don’t know, then?” Yelena decided to ask the follow-up question after answering the Feline’s. “For some time now, I’ve been completely unable to feel warmth; whether because of nerve damage, a side effect of my Oripathy, a mix of both or some unknown third factor, I now chill the air around me rather than warm it. The other day, when you came to my office, I...I felt warm, for the briefest moment, for the first time in years.”

“...Ah. I see. That makes perfect sense.” The plastic fork in her hand wilted as she blushed.

The Cautus smiled. “Why did you think I offered to help you?”

“W-well, as a single woman with a prestigious position in academia, I’ve received several... offers of intimacy.” Half true - she’d received offers before achieving her status as an acclaimed scholar, but only after reaching her ivory tower did she regret not considering them more thoroughly. “And I imagine you’d have to be rather close to absorb enough of my body heat to have an effect...I’m sorry, I may have been projecting a little.”

“Projecting? Did you want me to be propositioning you, Skyfire?”

Caught like a cat in the fish tank. “...It’s rather lonely at the top, isn’t it?”

“You don’t have to climb far to isolate yourself.” Yelena paused for just a moment before she sighed. “Well, it seems I have no choice in the matter now, do I?”

“In which matter?” The Feline, for once, wasn’t quite following.

She brushed her hand against Skyfire’s glass of water, freezing it solid as her inhibitor redirected some of her ambient chill, on her way to handing her a note with her mobile number. “I’ll see you tonight. Depending on how...heated things become, I can’t guarantee your sheets will survive.”

“I have one more set in my closet.” Her hand shaking, she reached for the note, but found her open hand instead. “So soft, but so cold. Like freshly-fallen snow. Or, at least, I imagine this is how it feels to hold snow; I always melted it before it reached me.”

“Mmm.” Yelena’s words had escaped her once again, however, as radiating from her hand and through the rest of her body was the feeling hope had promised her: warmth.

Or, perhaps, love at first touch?

#arknights #skyfire (arknights)#frostnova (arknights)#calligo has non-bear interests as well #and i'm glad for it #because this is brilliant #like seriously this is like the most intuitive solution to both their problems #frostnova needs to feel warmth #both literally and emotionally #and skyfire needs to stop overheating and incinerating everything in the process #they were made for each other!#good call calligo good call #arknights fic

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darkhorse-javert · 4 years

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Vidua... Part 1

@everlarkficexchange and @567inpanem. I’m sorry this is so late, technical problems my end. Also I am still writing it down, and I have no idea when I will get to the end.

Written for prompt 44, where Katniss is taken to the Capitol to marry Snow.

They bang on the door just after sunrise. Buttercup leaps from the windowsill to dive under the bed as I shove my feet into my boots and cross the room to open the door. No matter what you opened when the Peacekeepers knocked, or you soon found that you didn’t have a door, just a flat board of wood lying on your floor. Cray, Head Peacekeeper, stands on the doorstep

“Katniss Everdeen, aged sixteen on 8th of May this year?”

I nod tightly “That’s me” Cray knows who I am he’s bought wild turkey from me often enough, but there is a clipped formality to his voice, and I see the half-dozen other peacekeepers grouped up beyond him

“You need to come with us to the Justice Building, now”

“What is it?” My mother’s voice comes from behind me “What’s going on?”

“No need to worry Mrs Everdeen, in fact you should be proud of your daughter.” Still the formality in Cray’s tone, my mother's hand clamps on my shoulder, wrinkling the rough shirt. “Now Miss Everdeen comes with us, Mrs Everdeen you and any close family may attend at the Justice Building in half an hour to assist, bringing smart clothes for Miss Everdeen”

Cray holds out his hand towards me, I don’t take it but I step through the doorway, past him. The half-dozen peacekeepers form a box around me two in front, two behind, two at my sides. They are so precise it unnerves me, but as we march off I take a look over my shoulder. My mother stands in the doorway of our house, watching, and then Prim still in her night dress appears at her side in a flash of checks.

Framed by the Peacekeepers we walk quickly through the district, the dirt paths and rickety Seam houses, then onto the more orderly streets of the town. Already people are up, and they look over but then avert their eyes. Someone in the centre of a squad of peacekeepers, it doesn’t do to show any kind of acknowledgement or association. Only a handful of children stare, because it is a strange thing to see, with our Peacekeepers. That only makes me stiffer in my stance. Somewhere in the long distance between the start of town and the Justice building, the peacekeeper on my left reaches out and touches my hand, making it seem as if she’s guiding me around a puddle on the ground. I glance over to see the formal reflective visor gone and recognise Purnia, who I’ve seen at the hob. Her eyes are kind as she whispers quickly, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble, I swear.”

I want to ask her what is going on, but her eyes snap forward again and the glimmer of the visor comes down. We’re nearly at the square when I hear the pit siren. But not the horrifying screech that means there has been a mine accident, the hooting that marks an end of shift, and yet, isn’t the pitch different. Normality in the middle of chaos, but even that is wrong.

We pace across the square, prominently visible. The shopkeepers are more awake than the Seam; setting up for the day, rigging out their awnings, polishing the glass, checking the lay of the window displays. They stop what they’re doing as we walk past, making a dull ripple of silence and I feel the fear in their gazes. But again, nothing more than looking, you don’t mess with Peacekeepers on official business. Then when we’re at the base of the two flights of steps to the front of the Justice Building, there is the sound of a scuffle going on behind. Only when we reach the big landing halfway up the stairs do I glance over, two of the baker’s sons are grappling in the shop door, the older pulling the smaller back into the shop. Purnia’s hand on my back urges me forwards up the stairs onto the stone frontage. The doors, with their huge proud eagle, swing open, then close behind us with a deep metal slam. Only my pride holds back a shuddering flinch. Now Purnia's reassurance feels very very thin.

Inside the Justice Building entrance hall,mMy escort march me to one of the lifts. I along with Purnia, and the other flanking peacekeeper step into the lift to be surrounded by the smell of sour milk. The other peacekeeper presses the button to take the lift up.

As I turn round, just before the doors close I see the back pair of peacekeepers moving away to the flights of stairs at a quick jog. The lift doors close and it begins to creak upwards. Without the sun on the visors I can now see the face of my other escort, Livia. She's not in the job as often as some of them, but I've traded with her before now. Rosehip syrup comes to mind.

"Katniss, whatever is to happen, from the moment these doors open, you stand for District 12 in its entirety. Just - " Purnia pauses “Just show them what District 12 really is, not just the assumptions people make about it, that it's all grubby minors. 12 is more than that. Be proud of it and show that pride.”

The fact that the Peacekeepers who know about things because they are the officials of the district don't really seem to know what this is about far more than I am willing to let on. And why warn me or cue me at all. Whatever is going on, it's to her benefit for the District to look good for some reason. Of course the Peacekeepers are the security, the day to day panem representative in our district, so they want to look good.

The lift in the Justice Building is supposed to be slower than a slug but it is too soon when the box stops and the doors open. It must be slow though for Cray and the other four Peacekeepers stand there to receive us. Cray is slightly further back, his face tinted red. I resist a smile at the thought of him having to puff up all those stairs for me. The flash of amusement is quickly doused, what am I doing here? To represent the District, according to Purnia. That’s the same high flowery language Effie trinket uses each Reaping day. But how? A reprobate hunter being whipped? Have they snached Gale too, to make an example of both of us… or some of the Hob traders? They lead me down the corridor to two large wooden doors at the end with the same eagle insignia as on the Justice Building main door we passed through earlier. Last time I was here I was eleven, receiving a medal for my father who I would never see again. I blink sharply, forcing back the emotions behind my mask. Purnia warned me.

Keep it together Katniss, you stand for District 12.

Cray pushed open the wooden doors of the hall, and we walked in. The wooden beamed hall seeths with Capitol people, a mass of bright colours. As someone notices our arrival there is a sudden hush, and in the gathering of the silence I hear someone say "President Snow has chosen well this time."

Even then a shrill Capitol voice rises and out of the throng comes Effie Trinket, the Capitol representative who each year calls out the names of those reaped

"Here she is, our District Sposata" her hands are outstretched towards me as if in welcome, but I'm still coping with the shock of the too brilliant false pink dress she is wearing, so bright it cannot be a natural colour. She clicks towards me in her heels, moving straight past Cray without even an acknowledgement. Her eyes note my clothes and hollow, then falsely brighten again.

"You are a darling, I am sure."

She glances at Cray, who straightens and answers a question she hasn't even asked "I asked her family to arrive in half an hour with smarter clothes, to give you a chance to explain everything to Katniss, Miss Everdeen,about her situation."

"Quite right." She beckons to me as she turns away "Come with me, dear and I'll explain everything."

I follow her then perch awkwardly on the wood of a recessed window seat. I already know at least part of what she is about to say. As soon as the bubbly man said the words President Snow. A dim memory from that starving spring I turned 12, extra mandatory viewing,watching a girl from District 4 in the Capitol, walking between rows of people in a dress of luxury we could only dream of, to be married to the president of Panem, a man old enough to be her father. There had been pain in her eyes, pain I hadn't understood or cared about then, as she walked. I drag myself back to listen to Effie prattle "it is a great honour to be chosen for your district Katniss, to be the one to symbolise the partnership between the Capitol and the District."

Partnership..not likely.

I but in, before I think too deeply about that. "What about my family, my tesserae, I provide for them".

Effie actually looks sympathetic for a moment before it morphs into excitement "You needn't worry Katniss, they'll receive a Capitol stipend to replace your wages, a house in Victors Village... They needn't worry about the tesserae anymore with that. Besides with the marriage they'll become Capitol citizens by extension, and they'll be ineligible for reaping." Effie pauses to tally where she's got to in her list of benefits, and it's a good thing because my brain is fixed on those three words

Ineligible for reaping.

I go and Prim won't be in the pens this summer knowing that there is a slip with her name on itin the girls great glass bowl. And not just this summer, but every summer, as the slips would pile up each year.- for this I would be willing to die, marriage is a small price to pay.

"How many of my family?"

"Just siblings dear, those with a shared parent."

A pang of regret that I cannot register Gale and his siblings as my cousin and have them excluded from the reaping too.

"Is the marriage today?", it tumbles out before I can stop it and Effie laughs softly, pityingly like you would with a child. I clamp my jaw shut before I say anything else stupid and she shakes her head.

"Goodness me, no Katniss. Today is your district farewell, then we'll go to the Capitol. There are so many things that you need to know and that need to be done. The fitting of the dress, your trousseau," Effie waves her hand as she speaks and the cuffs flutter like birds. The marriage, that will take place in a week, once we've dusted you off a little bit.” I feel like I have been doused in cold water. Effie is looking around slightly suspicious at one of the fire places, which does seem fairly free of coal dust.

These people are not interested in me. Just in a symbol of the district they can have without it's bad points. I rub my fingers on the smooth wood of the seat, while she rattles on again sounding rather like a squirrel chattering in the branches. After a while she notices that I am not attending in the slightest and huffs, then she gets up and leaves me to the whirl of my thoughts.

There is a velvet cushion on the window seat, my fingers find it, rifling the stroke of the fabric back and forth. But even this is strange, different from the little house, where it's only place is a tiny strip on my mother's collar. I turn and stare out at the square below. The stalls have been herded away, people in uniforms are setting up huge projector lights, uncoiling the rope for one large pen in front of the steps, I cast my eyes upwards and sure enough there are nests of extra Peacekeepers appearing on the roofs I can see. It's like another reaping day, apart from the fact there are no age pens. The thought, the realization hits like a stone, sinking through my mind and into my stomach. It is a Reaping day, and I am the lone tribute, chosen by a lottery I don't even know; to go to the Capitol. I turn back to the room, and Effie must have been watching because she's stops her chattering and comes to me

"You will love this Katniss, I've just been to talk to Cinna, the ideas he has for your trousseau, you'll be the talk of the world." I have no idea what a trousseau is, other than it needs fitting according to her earlier comment.

"Miss Trinket," I use my best manners voice, as if I was at school, "I will be able to come back to District 12 won't I?"

"Of course", the cuff birds flutter. "Why it would be utterly gauche to miss any special district events… but Katniss there is so much in the Capitol the winter celebrations, the illumination yo will never have seen the like, the fireworks the dinners, and I haven't even mentioned the private parties."

But through that I hear what she isn't saying, that once I leave the district I become a person of the Capitol and that my visit back will be few and far between for display. Some of it must have shown on my face, because Effie starts chattering again "But of course we're not rude, after you have been presented to the district and received their acclamation, you have two whole hours to make your goodbyes to all your friends, so they understand before you are whisked away to the Capitol for a time"

[i]or forever[/i] I add in my head.

"You mustn't come back until you are well settled in." She holds out a notebook and a gold pen, seeming warmer in her attitude "Here, you write down a list of everyone you want to see, and that way I can give them priority over anyone else who comes to curry favour."

The back of the notebook is slightly furry in my hand, a strange texture between pelt and the velvet. The pen is so strange, cold and gold that I am almost afraid to touch it, that I'll leave fingermarks on the shell. Effie leaves again. Livia steps closer to me, ostensibly a protective guard. She leans over and subtly twists the pen so a small nib pops out of the end, giving me a tiny chin up nod then becomes inscrutable again. I turn my attention to the page, the list of people I really want to see as it forms in my head as I run it down.

[i]Gale Hawthorne[/i]

[i]Hazelle Hawthorne[i]

[i]Primrose Everdeen[/i] I'm not taking chances she'll be forgotten, but I hope she'll come with our mother.

There are others I'd like to add, but I don't think I can safely invite Hob people without giving reason, and I can't send peacekeepers to fetch them on official business. But Sae is safe. Yet as I add her name, I realise I don't know her surname. Only that her Hob name amongst us is Greasy Sae, and we can rely on her to take what we catch and to not begrudge us hear in the winter. I stare down at the page, trying to remember, trying to hear someone else use it, but I draw a blank. Livia bends her head down, speaking low.

"Its Fetler."

[i]Sae Fetler[/i], I write it down pause... then add another name beneath

[i]Madge Undersee.[/i]

We aren't friends, not like Gale and I but I realise that I'd feel guilty to leave her out, to disappear without a proper explanation to her face, although being the mayor's daughter she probably knew before I did. Half a dozen names, all the people I can put down to say goodbye to. Not much really. Effie clicks over on her heels, wordless I hand over. She nods, half glancing." I'll see they come". She speaks with such confidence and nods with such assurance as if no one would dare say no to her.

------------

Any feedback, @567inpanem, would be gratefully received.

#thg #hg #hg fanfic #everlark fic exchange #EFE #efe 2020 #katniss #Katniss everdeen #fanfic

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tempestaurora · 4 years

Note

Hi I just need to share this idea before I fall asleep: AU where Beck targeted Harley instead because Tony left Harley EDITH instead of Peter

read on ao3

They showed up in the hand of a suited man who looked uncomfortably hot in the Tennessee sun. E.D.I.T.H., the card in the glasses case read, Even In Death I’m The Hero – T.S.

Harley had been to his funeral the month before, had stood outside the lake house with a collection of plain-clothed superheroes. He’d recognised some, but not all. Captain America, Falcon, Hawkeye, Bruce Banner. They were all red-eyed and sombre, donned in black suits and congregating in small groups after the ceremony. Harley had come alone, without his mother or sister, and had spoken to barely anyone, bar Colonel Rhodes who recognised him, Pepper and Morgan, who’d invited him, and the kid called Peter Parker, who looked about his age - though, post-snap, it was hard to tell anymore.

He hadn’t touched the glasses for two days before finally working up the nerve to try them on, then he’d played with them in complete awe for three days before finally putting them away again. He’d read the texts of strangers on the street, peered inside the Mustang’s engine and dissected every part, stared at the maths problems on his homework sheet and watched the numbers float off the page and solve themselves. It was a lot of power, Harley figured. Too much for a kid in fuck-all nowhere Rose Hill.

He made a small hole in the floorboards of the garage, and hid the glasses away.

He’d vanished in the snap, like half the universe, but his sister and mother had lived on for five years, continued to grow and change. He’d been in his senior year when he’d died, and now his sister was too. They shared the same classes, and though she’d desperately tried to get into science and engineering; to make use of the tools in the garage that Tony had provided Harley with, she just wasn’t interested, and leant heavily towards history, with dreams of archaeology and excavation.

They looked like twins now, and started to tell people that they were.

His little sister was five years younger than him, but they were both eighteen now anyway.

In all, despite having E.D.I.T.H. under the floorboards of the half-gutted garage (the equipment inside was both too sentimental to sell, and too expensive not to), nothing much changed with Harley as the world tried to right itself after the second snap. Time continued on, the world slowly rebuilt itself and struggled to house all the new homeless folk, and superheroes re-emerged from the cracks, fighting the everyday bank robbers and crazy scientists, rather than colonising aliens.

Harley and Ariel graduated side by side, her name read out first, then his, and they wore matching robes and smiled matching smiles for their mother’s photos. They packed up their things and both headed for New York, both of them studying at Columbia, and both of them scoring rooms in the same dorm. On the day they left; Harley’s Mustang idling out front with his sister’s music blaring from the stereo, Harley wandered around the garage, decked out by a dead man, and pulled back the floorboard. E.D.I.T.H. still sat there in the case, just as it had when Harley had first received it a year before, and he removed it, replaced the floorboard, and started the long drive north.

His classes were the good kind of difficult, and he threw himself into electrical and mechanical engineering, scoring high grades and making new friends. Parties were a rare thing in Rose Hill, as everyone lived so far apart and kids his age were rare, so now he and Ariel had new experiences to make; dorm parties and frat houses, night clubs and bars. Despite the new laws about post-snap identification, his I.D. from before still worked in some places; technically twenty-three rather than the lived eighteen.

“We’re twins,” he and Ariel would say to whoever asked; the two Keeners living on the same floor and going to the same parties. They shared a lot of friends, though drew themselves to different areas; Harley falling easily into the D&D Society, and Ariel finding herself in three separate book clubs.

“Family has become more important than ever,” the post-snap counsellor would say in their mandatory session in their first semester. Every student had to meet with them, only a year since the world came back, but Harley and Ariel attended theirs together, more joined at the hip than they had ever been when they were five years apart in age.

They went home for Christmas and returned in January, starting classes anew. It was then that Harley met his new teacher, Quentin Beck, an M.I.T. graduate who’d once been a successful head developer in R&D at Stark Industries. Harley took every reference to Tony like a stab in the side; Tony’s face was everywhere, painted in every mural. All his classmates were obsessed with the arc reactor and the Stark tech, they all held Starkphones like once everyone had held Apples. Beck’s entire first class was essentially a spiel about what he learned at S.I., and Harley felt sick by the end of it.

Just as he was rushing out of the class, Quentin – all the tutors insisted being called by their first names – called him back. “I hear you’re the student to look out for,” he said easily, resting against the edge of his desk. “Tell me, where did your interest start?”

Harley had never been asked this question, but he had always thought he’d lie if he were. Instead, facing a man who’d also known and cared about Tony Stark, he said, “I’ve always liked building things, but I don’t think it was until I met Tony Stark myself that I really got invested.”

Quentin raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You’ve met Tony Stark?”

“It’s a little hard to believe,” he admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck, “but back in 2013—the Mandarin incident? With the President?—when Tony vanished after his house got bombed, he ended up in my hometown. Broke into my garage to hide out from the snow, and well—I dunno. I got to hang out with him for a few days.”

He thought he’d be scoffed at, honestly – it wasn’t a particularly believable story, though Harley had realised that was the case with a lot of truths – but instead, Quentin smiled, like he’d found someone similar to himself, a friend. They talked for a bit about Tony, and then after the next class, they talked again. They went to Quentin’s office and told stories about working with Tony and their experiences with Iron Man. Harley showed him the photos from when he was fifteen and visiting New York mere weeks before Ultron, when he and Tony worked on the code for his own helper bot and later went to a museum together.

It was—strange, honestly. Having someone to relate to about this stuff. Having someone who cared—about Harley, about Tony, about his legacy. Quentin was the only person who got it. Ariel had never met Tony, had been too young to really remember the events anyway, and Harley hadn’t wanted to bother anyone he’d met at the funeral; their connections to Tony far stronger than his could ever be. He hadn’t known the man like Colonel Rhodes had, like Pepper had – but he still grieved, still mourned, still wanted him back.

Talking to Quentin, then working with him on his project, was a little like that; like finding Tony in the world again.

So, one day, as they worked in the shop he said, “Tony left me a gift actually.”

Quentin paused and leant back on his stool, saying, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. When he died. Some lawyer showed up at my door with it; said he’d left it in his will for me.”

“What was it, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Glasses,” Harley replied. “They’re—it’s an A.I., called E.D.I.T.H..” He shrugged. “I don’t know why he left them to me, honestly. He already gave me a whole workshop and a vintage Mustang. And we weren’t—we didn’t talk a whole lot, even before the snap. Couple times a year, I guess. I came up to New York like, twice, and he would email out of the blue to see if I wanted to test the new Starkphone…”

“What does the A.I. do?”

“What doesn’t it do?” Harley sighed. “I’m pretty sure it’s a borderline surveillance state A.I., I mean, if the government had it. It can see everything, I think. In the wrong hands… it could be catastrophic.”

“Are your hands the wrong hands?” Quentin asked.

Harley hesitated. “I hope not. Tony trusted me with it, so he must think… must think they’re right.”

“Well,” Quentin said, “I’d love to see them sometime. They sound incredible.”

That afternoon he returned to his room, where he knelt by the drawer he’d fixed a false bottom into, pulling out the E.D.I.T.H. glasses for the first time since he hid them away in September. He tried them on, and E.D.I.T.H. greeted him in the warm tone, information pouring out before him. He peered around his room slowly, and as the sight caught on his roommate’s laptop, their tablet, E.D.I.T.H. captured the data and sent it scrolling before his eyes.

“E.D.I.T.H.,” Harley said quietly.

“Yes, Harley?”

“Why did Tony leave you to me?”

“Tony Stark left gifts for all loved ones in case of his demise. He did not tell me the significance or reasoning behind his actions.”

Harley sighed and flopped backwards onto his bed. “What did other people get?”

“Virginia “Pepper” Potts and Morgan Stark received the majority of the wealth, assets and properties under the name Anthony Edward Stark. Virginia Potts was also left controlling ownership of Stark Industries. Colonel James Rhodes was bequeathed several vintage cars, a large sum of money, and several sentimental items. Harold Hogan was bequeathed the same. Should I go on?”

“Sure.”

“Mr. Stark left various moneys, cars, sentimental items and properties to individuals he worked with under the Avengers Initiative: Robert “Bruce” Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Steven Rogers, Clinton Barton and Thor Odinson. Other moneys were left to various organisations, foundations and charities supported by Mr Stark. He bequeathed myself and a college fund to you, Harley Keener, and a matching college fund and equipped workshop space in Queens, New York, New York, to Peter Parker. He left—”

“Stop,” Harley said.

Peter Parker had been the other kid at the funeral. The one with the internship with Tony. The one at the front of the dock, who’d cried beside his Aunt, who’d been introduced to Morgan for the first time mere minutes after Harley had.

“E.D.I.T.H.,” Harley said, “do you have the contact information for Peter Parker?”

“Of course, Harley.”

Peter’s phone number, email and address appeared before his eyes. His personal information scrolled beside it; seventeen, in his senior year, Midtown Tech High School. Harley thought about calling him; about saying Hi, we met at the funeral, want to be friends? About the bond he had with Quentin, the only person who understood what Harley was going through, even a little, and how he could have it again, with someone else. Someone who had worked beside Tony and looked up to him, just like Harley.

He was about to ask E.D.I.T.H. to call the number when his phone started ringing.

QUENTIN BECK CALLING his glasses read. He and Quentin had shared numbers because Harley’s college email was glitchy and Quentin had needed a way to contact him about class schedules and extra shop time.

“Hi, Quentin,” Harley said as he picked up.

“Harley! I’m glad I caught you. I was just thinking about those glasses Tony left you…”

It didn’t take much, really, for Quentin to persuade Harley to let him take a look at them. He was a friend, he was trusted – he, too, might be the right hands. Quentin and Harley talked for hours about them, trying them out and asking E.D.I.T.H. about her various functions. Harley had been right about how incredible they were, but he’d also been right about how much power they held for trouble. How far the wrong hands could take them; they were connected to satellites across the globe, had an enabled drone strike, and could send missiles to any given place on the planet. And Tony Stark had made this?

“They’re… truly something,” Quentin had said when the sky grew dark. Ariel was texting about dinner and Harley was packing up to leave. “Don’t… please don’t take this the wrong way, Harley—but do you think they’re too much responsibility for you to have?”

“Quentin, I—”

“I know you’re not a child, I know. You’re eighteen, you’re an adult – but these glasses,” he gestured to them on the table, shaking his head. “You could destroy the world with this, Harley. You could literally take it over. And that’s—that’s terrifying. It’s terrifying that Tony would’ve made something like this in the first place, and frankly, more so that he would leave them to someone else upon his death, rather than destroying them.”

“You think they should be destroyed?”

“I think these are simply another foray into weapon building,” Quentin sighed. “Though rather than selling it to the U.S. military, he’s privatised it and kept it for himself.”

“Then why did he give them to me?” Harley asked, nervous hands picking up the glasses. Quentin was right, of course, they were too much responsibility for him. He’d stuck them under the floorboards where they couldn’t be touched because of it. Left them in the drawer and pretended they didn’t exist. Practically ignored the one thing Tony had left for him.

He bet, bitterly, that Peter Parker wasn’t ignoring the gift Tony had left for him.

“I’m not sure, Harley. And this isn’t something I’m saying about you—rather, about him—but I don’t think it was the right decision.”

Harley swallowed, turning over the glasses in his hands. “You think I should get rid of them entirely?”

Quentin sighed, passing a hand over his forehead. “I’m not sure, Harley. I’m not. Perhaps they’ll save the world someday—but only in the hands of the right person.”

Harley bit hard into the inside of his lower lip. He wasn’t the right person. His hands weren’t the right hands. What had Tony been thinking, leaving a weapon this powerful to him? He was a kid from fuck-all nowhere Rose Hill, not a superhero. He was no Captain America, no Thor, no Iron Man.

“Quentin,” Harley said, his mind made up. “If I gave them to you, would you hide them somewhere?”

“What?”

“Hide them. Like you said, they might save the world someday—but that day’s not today, and they need to be somewhere where they can’t cause trouble until then. And if I’m not the right hands—then I shouldn’t know where they are.”

Quentin took the glasses in careful hands. “Are you sure, Harley?”

He nodded, resolute. “I’m sure.”

Quentin hesitated, turning the glasses over in his hands. “Perhaps you should—you should pass over the control to me, too. They only work for you, and if you don’t know where they are…”

Harley swallowed then shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’ll keep the control.”

“But, Harley—”

“No,” he repeated. “Maybe I’m not the right hands, but maybe you’re not either.”

“Harley—”

“If you were, Tony would’ve given them to you in the first place. I just need… I just need them hidden. Until I am the right hands, or until the world needs them. Whichever comes first, I guess.”

On the way home, he called Peter Parker and arranged to get coffee in some Queens café the next weekend. After dinner, he shot off an email to Pepper Potts, too, to see how she was doing and apologise for not reaching out for so long. Her response was prompt, and the weekend after, he was to meet her at her Manhattan apartment for dinner with her and Morgan.

He felt strange, that night, and the nights after it, going to bed without the glasses in the drawer beside his head, but it was for the best, he thought, not knowing where they were.

During class on Friday, Quentin seemed busy, side-tracked, and on Saturday, Harley met Peter, who was happier than the last time he’d seen him, and more than willing to share stories about Tony all afternoon, until it grew dark and the two of them went next door for a bite of pizza.

Classes all the next week were cancelled due to Quentin being sick, and he responded to Harley’s get well soon text positively, saying he was already on the mend. At dinner with Pepper and Morgan, Harley told her about college, about meeting Peter even. He didn’t mention Quentin or the glasses, and neither did she. Instead, they laughed at Morgan’s bad jokes and afterwards played a board game and let her win.

And then Quentin didn’t show for class the week after. Didn’t cancel it either, so Harley and his classmates sat around, confused and waiting, until they got bored and went home. Harley tried Quentin’s number and he didn’t pick up. The next day he did the same and the number was cancelled.

“This number no longer exists,” the voice at the end of the line said, and Harley shuddered to a halt in the middle of the packed corridor. People bumped into him from all sides and he squeezed his way over to the wall, the truth playing in front of his eyes on loud, flashing repeat.

Quentin Beck had hidden E.D.I.T.H. and then vanished. He’d taken E.D.I.T.H. He was in possession of the most powerful and dangerous A.I. since Ultron. And Harley had given it to him.

Harley called Pepper as he from campus, searching for a cab.

“Hi, Harley,” Pepper said, “I’m actually about to head into a meeting, so could I call you back—”

“No!” Harley cried, skidding to a stop on the pavement. “It’s important!”

“Is everything alright?”

“No, everything’s not alright! It’s E.D.I.T.H.!”

“Edith? Who’s Edith?”

“E.D.I.T.H.!” Harley repeated. “The A.I. Tony left me! I was kind of overwhelmed by the responsibility of it, and my teacher Quentin convinced me that I shouldn’t have it at all, so I asked him to put it somewhere until I could use it, and now he’s gone! He’s gone and he’s the only one who knows where E.D.I.T.H. is!”

Harley was panting out on the street, but Pepper’s voice was even, hard, “Harley,” she said, “did you hand over control of E.D.I.T.H. when you gave it to your teacher?”

“No,” Harley said. “I didn’t think I should, so it’s still under my control—”

“Alright. That’s very good of you, Harley. E.D.I.T.H. can only be used by the person who has control. Tony gave that control to you, and so long as you don’t ask E.D.I.T.H. to obey anyone else, control will remain with you. Now, can you tell me the name of your teacher?”

“Quentin. Quentin Beck.”

“Oh, fuck,” Pepper said, eloquently. “Amy, would you mind rescheduling my meetings? Harley, come to the apartment. We’ll call in some help and get this sorted.”

Harley grabbed his sister on the way, relaying the events and watching as she chose between a scoff that he could be so dumb, and a pitying smile. She chose the latter and the two of them climbed in a taxi, taking it to the Upper West Side, where Pepper lived when she was in the city. The elevator opened not on the penthouse floor like last time, though, but on the floor beneath, where Pepper stood by an array of computers and Happy paced around behind her.

On one of the screens was Quentin’s face, though a good few years younger, and a long list of information.

Pepper greeted them and then told them all about Quentin Beck, the man who became his college teacher. He had worked for Stark Industries, that much was true, and he had led the development of what eventually became B.A.R.F., an incredibly complex piece of technology that extracted memories and could replay them in 3D, just like Tony had displayed at M.I.T. in 2016. But Quentin hadn’t designed it for use as a billion dollar therapy tool; he’d seen it as a weapon, as a way to manufacture events, hallucinations. With B.A.R.F., the user could extract memories exactly as they were remembered, or exactly as they decided to remember them. It could be used for interrogation, for criminal cases – or it could be used for exonerations. And in other events, it could just as easily be taken advantage of; a guilty person misremembering a murder; a victim being forced to replay a traumatic memory again and again.

He was infuriated what Tony wanted to do with his technology, and had eventually been fired for it too. He was off the deep end, Pepper said, a little crazed and dangerous. His reference had been anything but glowing, and yet he’d still managed to doctor the facts and land himself a role at Columbia during the five years between snaps. He still managed to end up as Harley’s teacher – though, it seemed, by coincidence. One Quentin took advantage of as soon as he discovered how close Tony and Harley had been, and who owned the large fund that was paying Harley’s tuition.

After Pepper told her story, Harley told his – about how dangerous E.D.I.T.H. truly is, about the responsibility of a world killer that he could wear like a pair of smart glasses. Quentin had been right, as awful as it was; Harley wasn’t ready for them, wasn’t prepared to own something like that, and in the wrong hands…

“Why do you think Tony gave them to you?” Pepper asked softly, hers hands on his arms.

“I don’t know!” Harley complained. “I don’t know why he gave them to me—”

“He gave them to you because you are the right hands,” she said. “Because you are responsible. And yes, they’re a weight to carry, and they can be scary—hell knows I feel that pressure with F.R.I.D.A.Y. standing over me at all times, knowing what she can do if I asked—but he wouldn’t have handed them down to you if he thought you couldn’t handle it. And maybe… maybe you can’t yet. Maybe you do need to grow into them, but E.D.I.T.H. is yours, and will be for as long as you want it.”

“But it can do so many bad things.”

“And it can do so many good ones, too,” she replied. “Tony was a futurist. He saw the way forward and brought it to the present. He could see the value of A.I.; of a being that learned and grew and changed, but wasn’t human. They can do a lot of bad, if you ask it to – and they’re installed with safeguards for that exact reason – but they can do a lot of good. F.R.I.D.A.Y. is a personal assistant and security system as much as she can be used as a weapon. She can keep an eye on Morgan, can deploy security measures if someone breaks in, can keep an eye on body temperatures, on health and how hydrated we are. She’s a friend as much as she’s technology. If she sees dips in mood, she can work to relieve it; when Tony was struggling after the first snap, she was also the one that alerted me, so I could help. And maybe—maybe they’re small things, compared with missiles in the sky and drone strikes, but they’re also good things.”

She sighed, smiling. “It’s like being a good person or a bad person, Harley. Just because you think bad thoughts, doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. It’s what you do that counts. We all have the potential for chaos, for hurt and harm – we have to choose not to act on it. In the same way, with A.I.s in our hands, we have to continuously choose to use them for good, not evil.”

Harley felt his chest loosen a little, where it had tightened and knotted up. Maybe Pepper was right.

“But E.D.I.T.H. isn’t in my hands,” he said. “I lost her!”

“Anything lost can also be found,” she said easily, turning to the monitors. “I have F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” she said, “and I am using her for good by locating Quentin Beck using New York’s CCTV cameras and S.I.’s advanced facial recognition software—not for sale, distribution or government use,” she added, with a smile. “I could go out there myself, too, but I figured there was someone closer by.” Pepper pressed a button on the dash. “How’s it going Spidey?”

“Hey, Pepper!” a voice responded; the cheery, upbeat tone of Spiderman. “I’m actually just watching him through the window of his buddy’s apartment. They’ve been trying to hack into the glasses since way before I got here and its fun seeing them stressed. They haven’t even noticed I’m here.”

“Spidey,” Pepper sighed, “would you mind getting the glasses back sooner rather than later? And finding out who the buddy is?”

“Oh, KAREN’s already figured that out. Ex-S.I. employee. Guess they all have it out for Mr. Stark, huh?”

The image of a balding man appeared on one screen, clearly taken through the bedroom window. His name popped up next to it, with his details.

“Guess so,” Pepper replied.

It was less than an hour later that Spiderman vaulted through the window of the lab, glasses in hand.

“Oh, pizza?” he said, looking at the boxes Happy had ordered to keep himself busy. “Save any for me?”

Pepper tapped her hand on a closed box. “Pepperoni. Just for you.”

“Oh, you’re the best,” he said, passing Harley on the way to the box and handing back the glasses as he went. “For you,” he added along the way.

Harley eyed the glasses in his hands; they were very Tony, just like the ones he used to wear. He wasn’t ready for them, really. Not yet. But someday, he might be – someday, he might be able to use E.D.I.T.H.’s reach and power for good. Might be able to use her to build good things that help people, to change the world just as Tony had done.

Harley said, “Thanks, Peter,” and grinned as Spiderman, Pepper and Happy froze.

Then Spiderman whined, “How did you know? I didn’t even tell you! I swear, Pepper, I said nothing,” and Harley laughed, waving the glasses around.

“E.D.I.T.H. knows everything,” he said, remembering all the details that appeared when he asked the glasses for Peter’s phone number, “from your class schedule to your secret identity.”

Peter pulled off the mask and Ariel sniggered into her pizza as he did so. He looked so put out. “No telling,” he said, slumping onto a free chair. “I can’t believe everyone I come into contact with figures out my secret identity.”

“It’s probably because you take off the mask every time you want to talk to someone or look dramatically into the middle distance,” Happy replied, with his mouth full.

They all laughed, and Harley grinned, placing the glasses carefully on the table.

Not yet, he thought, but maybe someday.

#marvel #mcu #harley keener #quentin beck #peter parker #bethany talks #bethany writes #could've responded like a normal person and YET i didn't #i wrote this in like 3 hours and then did a quick read through #let me live #jim-hopper-superhero

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #307

“you lie so much, you believe yourself”

How long has it been since you kissed someone? Like, two years or so. What level are you on Farmville? Never played it. What are you looking forward to in the next year? I hope Covid just withers away, dammit. I truly, truly hope this vaccine is effective. And that people start wearing their GODDAMN masks. Do you use a lot of emoticons? Not really nowadays. Would you ever climb a mountain? No. Even if my legs were capable of handling that, I'd be too afraid of an avalanche. Colons or equal signs for your smiley face’s eyes? Colons. When was the last time you swam in a lake? A looooong time ago. If you could have anything right now, what would you want? It'd be great to chill at Sara's house honestly, I miss that. What’s your relationship status? Single and I think finally starting to truly accept I need to be right now. I wouldn't want to date myself in my current position, so I shouldn't expect anyone else to. When was the last time someone asked you your age? On my birthday when I mentioned in group therapy that I was trying to make it an especially good day about myself. When was the last time you danced? Very, very poorly with Sara years ago lmao. Has anyone ever tried to physically fight you? Someone snatched my arm and yanked me down to look her in the eyes in HS because she was a jealous bitch back then telling lies, but idk if her intention was to actually try to start a physical fight. Are you avoiding someone? No. What’s your favorite primary color? Red. What do you have pierced? Just my ears and bottom lip now. :/ I want morrrreeee. I'm forever tilted that so many of my piercings closed when I was hospitalized. What is your favorite dog breed? I find pugs to be very cute, but I do not support their breeding whatsoever so would never buy one. Besides them, I have a definite bias towards beagles. In your honest opinion, what is the scariest sea creature you know? Fucking Christ, giant squids. Terrifying. Do you believe there is just one love for everyone, or…? No. There are way, way, WAY too many people on this planet for that. What natural disaster scares you the most? Tornados. What outrageous career could you see yourself wanting to do? Define an "outrageous" career... but I can't visualize myself doing anything very unordinary. In what way would you want to help change the world? I truly hope I can make some considerable amount of contributions to natural conservation and animal education. When driving down the road looking for an address do you turn the radio low? I don't drive, but I know I would, considering I can't concentrate on driving if the radio is on anyway. What do you think of when you look at the stars? How little I and my problems really are. It gives me perspective. If you could say ONE THING to the president, what would it be? Well, Biden just got into office, so I can't really say yet. We'll see what he does. What Disney princess are you most like? Personality wise, I mean. Uh. I'unno. Maybe Snow White because animals? haha Do you believe in astrology? Not in the slightest. Do you look into people’s eyes when you talk to them? I try to, anyway, but I tend to find it very uncomfortable, and I never know if I'm offering too little or too much. So I have trouble maintaining it, especially with people I don't know. You can have one of the following two things: trust or love. Pick one. Trust. What do you think is the most important thing in this life is? Hm, that's a deep one. Perhaps the understanding that you are just as important as the next person and that we should work as one to make this one life that we know of worthwhile. Make the world better than when you entered it. What is your favorite shade of blue? Pastel blue. I just like pastels in general. When's the last time you bought something just because? I don't buy things "just because." If I actually have money to spend, I use it with motivation behind it. What Ozzy lyric describes you best? WHOA NOW HUNNY you are asking the WRONG person because I can just about name his entire discography so there are waaaay too many song lyrics to dig through and pick one for myself. Probably something from "Dreamer," after a short moment's consideration. When was the last time you went for a walk without a specific destination in mind? Not since Sara and I walked down the path near her house. We didn't plan on when we would turn around to go back. Do you daydream? Only all the time. What was your last daydream about? Ha, thanks to that other question, visiting Sara again. It'd be nice, but yeah, financial limitations and corona. Ever won the lottery? Bitch I wish. What was the most important decision you made that screwed up your life the most? Ugh... I'd say putting all my self-worth, happiness, and source of peace into one person was pretty big but also fucking stupid. What is love really about? Don't ask a romantic this and expect a non-essay, haha. But to keep it as short as possible, it's about mutual care, the desire to grow together, trust, openness, the peace to be vulnerable with the other... It's about a lot. It's such a deep, beautiful feeling. What's the most you ever made in a year? lol Do you have an online diary? Only through surveys, really. What's the biggest pot you've won in poker? I haven't played poker since I was a kiddo, so idr. What Metallica lyric most describes your life? Who wrote this and knows my favorite bands????? Like damn. There's a good handful of the sadder songs I relate to; I did some brief digging through ones I know I relate to, and perhaps the one I feel closest is within "The Unforgiven II": "The door is locked now, but it's open if you're true. If you can understand the me, then I can understand the you." Aaaand now I'm gonna go binge Metallica 'cuz it's been too long, thanks. How many concerts have you been to? Just one. :/ Which one was your favorite? I've only seen Alice Cooper, and it was great. What's the most illegal thing you've done? Pirated stuff, oops. Ever get busted by the cops? What for? No. How many pairs of rollerblades do/did you own? I doubt I have any anymore. Ever wear out a CD? What was it? Ahaha... There is some scratching on my mom's copy of Ozzmosis thanks to me playing it so much on my old CD player. Ever have a tornado in your town? Well my city is pretty damn big, so yes, in some spots. I don't think my immediate proximity has ever seen one, though. If you HAD to pick ONE song to listen to for the rest of your life, and that would be the only song you ever heard, what would it be? I would absolutely need something motivating if that was the case, so most likely "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy Osbourne. That song touches me so deeply and gives me the courage to do what I can to tackle life and try not to waste it. I know, I'm doing a great job at that. Ever heard of Shinedown? Hell yeah; I was actually listening to them in the car earlier. What does your lawn furniture consist of? We have nothing out there. Ever live off of canned soup and ramen noodles for weeks at a time? Er, no. But when I got my tongue pierced, I had to survive off of popsicles and... I somehow forgot the main thing I ate???? How?????? But anyway it was something that didn't involve much or any chewing, either. I actually lost a little bit of weight in that week or so because eating solids was impossible, and I didn't enjoy "eating" liquids either. That piercing (snake eyes, btw) was soooo so cute tho. I really wish it hadn't started to damage my teeth, or else I'd still have it. What musical group/artist do you love, but hide from other people? I used to be kinda embarrassed by artists like Melanie Martinez when you compare her music to my adoration of metal, but at my age now, I don't give a damn. I like what I like and won't hide it. What is the first meal you remember eating? ... Does anyone actually remember this??? What's in your keepsake box/scrapbook? Good God, a lot. I haven't looked in it in a very, very long time though. It brings a usually painful nostalgia. What did you score on your SATs? I don't even remember if I took them. I THINK I took the ACT instead? I don't even know the difference. When was the last time you saw a rainbow? Hm. Been a while. It's not like I'm out of the house a lot, especially nowadays with quarantine. What colors is your lava lamp? I wish I had a lava lamp, they're rad and really relaxing. What's the strangest thing you've ever hung on the wall? Nothing, really. Can you name every place you've ever had sex? I mean I can but I'm not going to. What's the most important thing you ever lost and never found again? My favorite childhood cat Charcoal. He was an outdoor and intact male, so it was very normal for him to eventually vanish to rove. Please keep your cats indoors. What forms of birth control have you used? The pill and, uh, having "barriers." How many webpages have you created, and can you still find them all? I made Wetpaint sites for my two RP mobs back in the day, but the site has since been completely revised, so no, they don't exist anymore. I checked outta curiosity I think last year. How many people are in your family portrait? We don't even have a proper family portrait. Ever punched a wall? No. When's the last time you really lost your temper? In some argument with Mom I don't remember. Ever thought you (or a girlfriend) were pregnant, but it was a false alarm? I had massive anxiety over it once, but it was irrational and even I knew that. Not that anxiety cares. If 97 is yes, were you glad or sad? I was very glad when my period came lmao. What was the last conversation you had with someone before they died? When I saw my grandma for the last time, I just let her know that I loved her and that she was so, so strong, and she was. No one could believe how long she warded death off when she finally stopped chemo. What do your drinking glasses look like? We have some more unique cups and mugs, but the majority of them are just plain, slightly angular glasses, some short, some tall. How many bottles/containers are in your medicine cabinet? Oh wow, a lot. We're covered for most potential problems. How many funerals have you been to? Uhhh I think one. Maybe even none, just wakes. What was the last bug you killed and what did you use? An ant, I think? I just used my fingers. How many computers in your household? There are three laptops, but no desktop computers. Ever help to solve a crime? There was one occasion years ago when our neighbor's window was busted overnight and cops came to us to ask for any evidence we might have had, but we didn't have any. Idk what came of it. Ever get pulled over by the cops and get away without a ticket? I've never been pulled over. What was your first legal alcoholic drink? I think it was a margarita, but possibly a daquiri. Ever get published by one of those poetry groups? I fucking wish. I've tried, but to no avail. What's the furthest distance you've moved? Not very far at all. Just to the neighboring town. How many friends from high school/college do you still talk to? Only a few now and then. Girt is the only one I have real conversations with, though. What's the most expensive things your parents ever bought you? Probably the laptop I have right now, but idk. I've never asked how much things they've bought me cost, it seems rude somehow. What's the most expensive thing you've bought? The upcoming revamp of my tattoo. Deposit was $100, and then it's probably going to be another $300-400. I can't afford it all myself; as my birthday gift, Mom is helping me pay for it, but I've got most of it covered thanks to Christmas and birthday money. How many times did you intentionally start to commit suicide? Start to do it? Well, I was trying to run for sharp objects to do it twice, but on each occasion, someone held me back 'cuz they knew I was about to do something rash, so I didn't get very far, thankfully. The only time I fully went through with an attempt was my OD. Ever spent the night in the "loony bin?" How fucking disrespectful to call it that, but whatever. If you put all the instances together, I've been in psych hospitals for around a couple months, maybe more. What is your favorite cover song? Disturbed's cover of "Sound of Silence" is absolutely unbeatable. I'd just about call it a cold hard fact. What's your inspiration? Other's success stories, music, art in general, etc. What's the longest relationship you've been in? Over 3 1/2 years. Did you ever drop out of school? I dropped out of college three times, yikes. Three times is enough; even if I think I want to, I'm never going back. That is just way too much money to keep throwing down the drain, and there's clearly a pattern. Ever raise a child that wasn't your own for more than 3 months? I've never raised a kid period. Strangest medical procedure ever performed on you? Look up what a pilonidal cyst is and know I had one surgically removed. Pretty strange and uncomf. Song that has changed your attitude recently? None, really. What's something that you say a lot to be mean? ... Why would I try to be mean??? Who told you they loved you last? Me mum. Ever had a pet frog? Not technically, no, but as kids, my sister, neighbor, and I saved hundreds, maybe thousands of tadpole eggs from a ditch that was inevitably going to dry out. We transferred them all to a kiddie pool and let them grow naturally, hopping out and into the world whenever they were ready. I wouldn't call them "pets." Your worst enemy? IT'S NO SURPRIIIISE TO MEEEE I AAAAMMM MY OWN WORST ENEMYYYYY Do you believe in karma? No, but I wish it was a thing. What was the last hurtful thing you said to someone? I'm not sure. I certainly try to avoid doing so. Do you love someone enough you'd die for them? There's multiple people. The last song you listened to? I wasn't joking when I said I was gonna go on a Metallica spree, haha. "Of Wolf and Man" is on rn. Your most favorite memory as a kid? Too many, man. If you had the choice to work or not, would you work? Yes. I need something to do that benefits others in one way or another. Ever TRULY wanted to kill someone? I can't say for sure, if I'm being totally transparent. When I found out about Jason's gf after me, I can say with certainty I wanted her dead beyond dead, but I don't know if I wanted to kill her, per se. Just to clarify, no, I don't wish any negativity upon her now. I was certifiably insane before and certainly don't think I am anymore, so... Marvel or DC? I don't care. Do you watch anime subbed or dubbed? Both. I prefer dubbed, BUT only if the voice acting isn't insufferable. I like dubbed just because for me, it's very distracting to have to keep looking down at subtitles. How often do you exercise? I don't... I'm still waiting for Mom to move into her actual room versus the living room couch so I can do WiiFit with some privacy. I'm too uncomfortable to exercise in front of anyone. What is your favorite book series? Warriors will forever have a very special place in my heart. What is your favorite OTP? I will probably ship Rhett and Link for my entire life. Their friendship is truly incredible and so so SOOOOOOO cute. Who is your favorite Harry Potter character? I've never seen the series, actually.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''holier than thou'' by metallica

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books-and-glitter · 3 years

Note

You literally asked for this directly

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Should be 69 of those 😚

I hate you so much. You monster. I only expressed that I was surprised and you did this to me. I didn't ask for this.

Nonetheless....

🌻 - there is a bug in the kitchen and I am now too scared to go in there.

🌻 - Harper is trying to protect me but she is frankly useless.

🌻 - it's not like a big bug but it is definitely not small.

🌻 - I saw moth put a flower before each of these and thought it was neat. So I am now doing it.

🌻 - the person who sent me this sends a "Daily dose of disappointment" in a group chat we are in. Except it is not daily. It's whenever she has one.

🌻 - Kool Aid originated in Nebraska.

🌻 - The Omaha zoo has both the largest indoor desert as well as the largest indoor rainforest. The rainforest is my favorite.

🌻 - there is a rope bridge in there though that used to scare me a lot.

🌻 - nebraska also apparently originated the reuben sandwich which is gross.

🌻 - the Ogalala aquifer is the largest underground water supply in the US.

🌻 - the 911 system originated in Lincoln so that's kinda cool.

🌻 - the largest Woolly Mammath fossil is from Nebraska. If I remember correctly it's the one in Morrill Hall. His name is Archie and I will die for him.

🌻 - speaking of Archie, he was found on a farm by chickens. The farmer got confused at why the chickens were pecking at something, went to look, found big bones and called an archeologist.

🌻 - okay the bug is still a problem but I now have you to save me when it shows it's little fucking face again.

🌻 - the word Nebraska comes from the Oto word meaning flat water.

🌻 - hell yeah we going back to nebraska facts. Next is that the goldrod is the state flower. Flower is kinda pretty but the paper color by the same name is stupid.

🌻 - blue agate is the state gem and I vibe with that. Agate is cool as fuck.

🌻 - UNL's weight room is supposedly the largest in the country at 3/4ths of an acre (32.6k sqft)

🌻 - the Nebraska capitol had a 9.8 million budget, came in under budget, was paid for by the time it finished construction.

🌻 - I think the capitol looks weird but I am also desensitized to it but objectively it is really cool.

🌻 - cliff notes was founded in Nebraska.

🌻 - unfortunately when the UNL stadium is seated to capacity it technically becomes the 3rd most populated place in the state..... It's also really loud.... And I hate it.

🌻 - Arbor day comes from Nebraska. Which is cool because trees.

🌻 - the Scotts Bluff National Museum has a section of the oregon trail wagon roadbed that you can hike. The museum itself is also kinda cool so I suggest it if you ever are in the area.

🌻 - I wish to kill you, kathryn.

🌻 - more Nebraska facts I hear you cry! No problem! Nebraska has Car Henge! So if you ever want to get the vibe of Stonehenge except stupid and made of antique cars in a field in the middle of fucking nowhere you're in luck.

🌻 - Runzas are the official state food and I hate it. Runza makes decent chicken strips but Runzas are gross. Yes handover that cabbage meat bread 🤢

🌻 - Nebraska has a navy apparently. I know this but I cant tell you what the fuck they do since we are like the most landlocked state in the country.

🌻 - That one president, Gerald Ford, born in Nebraska. That's kinda neat. (I know nothing else about this man or his presidency except he is the only one not nationally elected.)

🌻 - Fred Astaire, Marlon Brando, and Johnny Carson (I think, or he just went to UNL, the media arts building is named after him) are all from Nebraska.

🌻 - getting sick of nebraska facts? Suffer. Nebraska has more miles of river than any other state, which is weird because we were called the great American desert.

🌻 - apparently the Nebraska state insect is the honeybee!!! 🐝

🌻 - the Niobrara river is apparently really good for canoeing and has like 90 waterfalls.

🌻 - I am running low on nebraska facts.

🌻 - there is a park/reserve just outside Lincoln that has some bison in it. Do not fuck with bison. They will wreck your shit.

🌻 - I don't know if he is still alive but there used to be a bald eagle in the same park that only had one wing. (Actually I think he was missing half of one but still)

🌻 - the cottonwood tree is awful and on a bad year can look like a light snow if too many trees are nearby.

🌻 - the ashfall fossil beds are where you can go to see an active archeology site with the fossils of tons of animals killed by a volcano 12 million years ago.

🌻 - Nebraska has a unicameral. Which is basically instead of a state house and state senate we have one legislative body that is elected on a non-partisan ticket.

🌻 - it is illegal to fish whales in Nebraska. Once again we are completely land locked and there are no whales but.. its still illegal.

🌻 - I am dying here. Kathryn I will punch you.

🌻 - Morrill Hall also has elephant hall which is the main hall right when you pass the entry desk. It has like 15 (?) fossils in it and apparently it's the largest collection of elephant fossils on display.

🌻 - speaking of Morrill Hall, it only displays about 1% of it's collection. The rest is stored at Nebraska Hall nearby.

🌻 - I think the cranes in North Platte are lame.

🌻 - nebraska furniture mart in Omaha is apparently the largest in the country. Which I can believe. I went to the discount part and it was a giant warehouse. I don't know what the actual sale floor is like.

🌻 - cherry county is bigger than Connecticut.

🌻 - O street (highway 6) is the longest straight main street

🌻 - Nebraska has a testicle festival. It's probably exactly what you think it is. Too many fried cow balls is what it is.

🌻 - there is a really cool church between Lincoln and omaha called the Holy Family Shrine. Its got massive arches and is mostly glass. Im not catholic so it's not really a religious thing but a bitch can appreciate some cool architecture.

🌻 - the Hall brothers who made Hallmark (card company) are from Nebraska.

🌻 - UNL's Love library has a Shakespeare Folio. Its in the Special Collections and Archives' vault. I want to see it so bad and one of the archivists told me she would show me it next time they opened the vault but then corona... :(

🌻 - UNL's library also has like 5 million+ physical items in it's collections.

🌻 - the serial killer Charles Starkweather is buried in Wyuka in Lincoln.

🌻 - Kearney, NE is dead center geographically between Boston and San Francisco.

🌻 - 92% of the state is farmland/ranches.

🌻 - if you have made it this far I am sorry.

🌻 - Nearly every fun facts about nebraska page has mentioned that the food stuffs Spam is manufactured in Fremont. So I'll mention out of peer pressure.

🌻 - the bug is still in the kitchen. Kathryn has foresaken me. I may perish in the night.

🌻 - 10 more. There is a roller skating museum in Lincoln. It's at 48th and South streets. Has largest collection of historical roller skates.

🌻 - Larry the Cable Guy I'd from Nebraska and he has recorded narrations for some exhibits in the Lincoln children's zoo. Or he used to it's been awhile.

🌻 - going back to UNL stuffs. Morrill Hall is a pretty cool museum and you should definitely go there. If only to say hi to Archie.

🌻 - the bronze Archie that is outside the museum is currently sporting a fashionable face mask set both over his trunk and his actual mouth.

🌻 - there are a couple dino fossils in that museum and if you step over the barrier and onto the decorative rocks an alarm will go off. And staff will be pissed because now they have to tell at you.

🌻 - said museum also has a lot of cool rocks on the third floor.

🌻 - and the bottom floor has like a hall of nebraska animals where you can hit buttons to listen to animal sounds.

🌻 - aaand a room with a plesiosaur embedded in the floor which is really cool.

🌻 - there is also a cool museum in Nebraska called the SAC. Which is the museum for Strategic Air Command. It has a lot of planes and some stuff from moon missions and air force stuff. When I was little some oil from the big plane in the entrance leaked onto a pillow I had when I was sleeping under it on a trip.

🌻 - nebraska is better than iowa but nebraska kinda sucks too so it's not like it matters truthfully.

🌻 - Nebraska has a lot of weather like giant hailstones and tornadoes but Lincoln doesn't get much because it is in a geographic dent so weather tends to weaken over the city. Which is lame. I want lots of snow.

And there we are folks. 69 fucking facts. 58 of which are about Nebraska purely out of spite. I counted.

I am now off to murder my roommate.

(jk but you should expect to be quizzed)

#nebraska facts #in case anyone wants to learn any thing #long post #please save me this took an hour and a half to type on my phone #also i did look up about half of these. a lot i knew or are my original knowledge.#kathryn you bitch #i brought this on myself for opening my mouth and mentioning it.#also the bug has still not been killed #11/69 of these are not about nebraska.

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years

Text

I’ll Be Home for Christmas

Josh Lyman x Reader

Words: 2074

Summary: After spending two weeks on a tiring case in New York, you want nothing more than to spend the holidays with your husband in D.C. A snow storm has other plans.

Notes: This is a late Christmas present for my sister @bensolocanbesaved

With one final click of closing your briefcase, your time in New York was finally over. You’d been assisting on a case for two weeks and you wanted to go home. When your friend had asked for your advice, you expected to be there for a few days, not for the entirety of the trial.

The New York City streets were bustling with last-minute holiday shoppers. It was December 23rd and the city was bursting with Christmas spirit. You were a New York native, but all you wanted was to get back home to D.C. where your husband was waiting with gallons of hot chocolate. It was your first Christmas as husband and wife and you couldn’t wait to go home. Tucked in the bottom of your suitcase was your present for Josh. It was a silver watch with the words Merry Christmas Lemon. Love, your wife engraved on the back.

You shuffled along the crowded sidewalk, double-checking the time for your flight on your ticket. You were supposed to fly out at 8:00 that night, but the news channels were warning of a snowstorm headed towards the city. The storm wasn’t supposed to start until 10:00, so you hoped that you would fly out on time. You could hardly wait.

Josh, on the other hand, was buried behind a rather large pile of papers that covered his desk. He had been busy looking through statistics and economic essays all day and he was nearly finished. He was preparing for an interview about the President’s new plan for inflation (this one not being a secret/nonexistent one). He could just see the blond hair head peeking over one of the stacks.

“I checked the weather,” Donna informed him.

“Hmmm?” He didn’t even look up from the paper he was reading.

“I checked the weather for tonight and things aren’t looking good.”

“Donna, context.” He broke away from reading to finally look at her.

“Please tell me I’m not the only one worried about your wife making it back for Christmas.” Donna turned on the weather channel and an ugly blue mass was moving towards New York. Josh put down the paper and pulled his chair up to the television.

“You have got to be kidding me.” He ran a hand down his face. Christmas was your absolute favorite holiday and you had been over the moon about decorating and presents and baking cookies. You would be heartbroken if you spent the holiday at a crowded airport. “It isn’t supposed to hit until later tonight. She’ll fly out before, right?”

“Now they're saying it’s moving faster than they thought.” Donna sighed, pointing to the ominous red blob heading straight for his wife. He let his head fall into his hands, letting out an irritated groan.

“How long is it supposed to last?” He muttered from behind his fingers. He was afraid to look at her expression and when he did it was not promising. According to the weather channel, the storm was supposed to last until midnight… on Christmas Day. “She can’t miss Christmas!” Josh turned off the television and threw the remote.

“Don’t panic. I’m sure that…” Donna tried to think of something that would make him feel better. “Maybe there will be a Christmas miracle.” Josh narrowed his eyes at her and she quickly exited his office, brushing past Sam on her way out.

“What’s going on?” Sam wondered, seeing the troubled expression on Josh’s face.

“My Christmas spirit is dwindling on empty, Sam.” He blew out a long breath.

“You had any, to begin with?” Sam smirked, leaning against Josh’s desk. “Snowstorm in New York?”

“Yup.”

“Can she rent a car and drive here?” He suggested. Josh shook his head.

“The roads will be closed.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Yup.” Sam gave him a half-smile and a pat on the shoulder.

“If things don’t work out, you can come spend Christmas with me.” Josh returned the smile and sighed.

“Thanks.” Sam went back to his office and the phone started to ring. “Lyman,” Josh answered.

“Josh?” Your voice started from the other end. “So there’s been a problem with my flight and I don’t know when I’ll be getting back.”

“I saw.” He leaned back in his chair. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at the airport. I’m fine, just a little hungry.” You laughed, trying to keep your attitude bright. “I just wanted to call and tell you what’s going on. They’re not sure how long the flight will be delayed.”

“Don’t worry, honey, I’m sure that the snow will pass. It’ll be a…” Josh blew out a breath. “Christmas miracle.”

“I hope so.” You smiled, although there wasn’t much hope for the situation. “Merry-”

“Don’t say it.” Josh blurted. “You can say it when you get here.” You laughed.

“Okay, okay.” You leaned against the wall, the rest of the terminal forgotten. You would give anything to just see him smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you soon.”

You hung up and found a seat amongst the other irritated passengers. Taking the watch out of your bag, you looked at its surface and felt each engraved letter under your fingers. The snowflakes drifted down, turning the world into a blur of white. You looked up at the sky, feeling your hope fade. With a heavy sigh, you put the watch back in your bag, muttering to yourself.

“This is what you get for wanting a white Christmas, Mrs. Lyman.”

The next morning came around and there was little improvement in the weather. The blizzard howled on and you were stuck sleeping in an uncomfortable chair in the terminal since you were far too stubborn to check into a hotel- something Josh feared, but entirely expected.

“You slept at the airport, didn’t you?” You didn’t have to see Josh to sense his disapproval.

“I am not going to spend hundreds to stay in a hotel I don’t need to stay at!” You defended a little too loudly. The seemingly grouchy older woman sitting across from you gave you a dirty look. “I’m perfectly fine, Josh.” You said, this time quieter.

“I really don’t like the idea of you sleeping in a dirty airport with who knows what kind of people.” When he was worried, Josh tended to talk faster than usual. He went on about the crime rates in New York while you tried to get a word in.

“Josh… Josh… Babe… Joshua!” You finally yelled, earning another dirty look.

“What?”

“I’m fine.” You laughed. “Besides, if anyone tries to mug me, I’ll just hit them with the briefcase that C.J. gave me last year. This thing weighs more than my whole desk!”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, it isn’t working.” He scowled, though you could hear a slight chuckle in his voice.

“Really, honey, I’m fine.” You looked at your watch, feeling your stomach growl for breakfast. “I’m going to grab something to eat, but I’ll call you if there are any updates.”

“Okay.” Josh tapped a pencil on his desk, his glum expression returning. “Love you. Bye.” When he put the phone down, Sam knocked on the door frame.

“Still stuck?”

“Yup.” Josh tossed the pencil across the desk in frustration. “It’s just my luck, though, isn’t it? First Christmas married and my wife is stuck in an airport!”

“What’s he yelling about?” C.J. asked, appearing next to Sam.

“Y/N’s flight was delayed because of a snowstorm and now she’s spending Christmas at LaGuardia.” He explained.

“She’s not going to be back in time?” C.J. exclaimed. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Unless you want to ask the President to control the weather, I don’t think so.” Josh rested his chin on his hand. He looked like a kid who just found out there was no Santa. C.J. and Sam exchanged a glance before heading back to work.

You spent most of the day reading travel books at one of the little shops in the airport. Frankly, you were more bored than anything else. There still weren’t any updates on the delay and you didn’t want to call Josh again since you knew he was probably busy. The overhead speakers were playing an endless drone of Christmas songs, all failing to lift your spirits. You missed the tree and the lights and the mistletoe, but most of all you just missed your husband.

Josh’s day didn’t go much better, either. He worked on figuring out the number of votes they would have for legislation over the new inflation plan. He tried to get his mind off of the holiday, but his heart still dropped every time he saw a wreath. He almost snapped at Margaret for humming “I’ll Be Home for Christmas”.

“Where’s your holiday spirit?” Leo wondered, sensing Josh’s unpleasant attitude as Josh entered his office.

“In New York,” Josh mumbled.

“Snowstorm?”

“Yup.”

“Ah, I’m sorry Josh.” He set his glasses down on his desk, looking up at the gloomy Deputy Chief of Staff. “You know, we’re pretty much finishing up for the day. Why don’t you go home? Or at least go spend the holiday with Sam or someone.”

“Is there any chance Air Force One-”

“No.”

“I figured.” Josh gave him a small smile. “Merry Christmas, Leo.”

“Merry Christmas, Josh,” Leo responded. “Don’t be too much of a Scrooge. Who knows, there could be a-”

“Christmas miracle?” Josh laughed, shaking his head. “Not this year.” The two said goodnight and Josh started back towards his office. He turned to corner, nearly running into the excited blond. “Damn it, Donna!”

“I was right!” She exclaimed. “You mocked the miracle, but I was right!”

“What did I say about context?” Josh ran a hand down his face, trying to keep his temper in check. He was tired and frustrated, which was not a great combination.

“The roads might be dangerous and traffic would take all night to get through, but the Christmas miracle is real!” She squealed. She pointed to her computer screen. “There is one road from D.C into New York that’s open. You could make it there by midnight.” Josh’s eyes widened and a smile spread across his face.

“Donna, you are the Christmas miracle.” Josh cheered, giving her a quick hug before rushing to his office to grab his keys along with the small, rectangular box containing a gold charm bracelet. As he hurried out, he called back to Donna. “Get me some mistletoe because I am kissing my wife on Christmas!”

“Flight 1-7-2 to Washington D.C. has been canceled until further notice.” The voice over the speaker dreadfully announced. You heard a chorus of groans from the other passengers and let out a disappointed sigh. You let your head fall into your hands, feeling the rest of your hope fade.

“Miss?” A voice said quietly. One of the airport employees stood in front of you, holding a small sack. “Merry Christmas.” She held up a candy cane, giving you a bright smile. You tried to mimic her grin and took the striped candy. You tried to get some sleep, but it was no use. The clock was nearing midnight but people still bustled around you. You got yourself a cup of coffee. If you weren’t going to sleep, you would fuel your caffeine addiction. You had just lifted the styrofoam cup to your lips.

“Can I have Mrs. Y/N Lyman to the front desk please?” A smug new voice said over the intercom. You dropped your coffee as you whirled around, seeing the smiling face of your husband standing across the terminal. You couldn’t reach each other fast enough, both of you sprinting across the sleek tile floor. He opened his arms and you ran into them, burying yourself in his embrace, laughing as joyful tears filled your eyes.

“How did you get here?” You asked, pulling back to see his beaming face.

“There was one road open and I drove all night.” You smacked his shoulder. “Ow! What was that for?”

“You drove in a blizzard?” You exclaimed, smacking him again. He just shrugged, giving you another grin.

“I’m taking you home for Christmas.” You tugged on his scarf, bringing him in for a kiss. It was that moment, however, that you both realized that you were already home.

#josh lyman #happy holidays everyone #bradley whitford #west wing #what's next #josh lyman x reader

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lonely-lost-soul · 3 years

Text

Under the Floorboards pt. III

(Technoblade x Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII

From that day on Tommy stayed with you and Technoblade in your collective house, Technoblade tried to establish some ground rules but Tommy being Tommy refused to listen to any of them. He was dead set on building a cobblestone tower as well as taking all of Technoblade’s golden apples instead of eating the golden carrots that were graciously given to him. Other than that, things seemed to be going okay for your little found family. Well, that was until Technoblade and Tommy got wind that a man named Dream was sniffing around the area.

Dream was an enigma to you, after hearing Tommy’s stories about the man you could only come up with two conclusions about him. One was that you had no idea what his motivations were in the first place and secondly you wanted to beat his ass for what he did to Tommy. As... unique as he could be at times no child deserved to be exiled and manipulated, it was disgusting. He was a sixteen-year-old boy who got caught up in too many wars and too much violence, you needed to protect him. So long as he was with you and Technoblade that’s what you planned on doing. That was what you silently vowed to yourself, even if Technoblade didn’t share the same sentiment.

Now, it seemed you were coming increasingly closer to voicing those feelings to the man himself. Tommy was shaking a little besides you he tried to look strong as Technoblade frantically told him to hide and splashed him with invisibility potions. He looked over at you next and grabbed your shoulders, he actually looked scared, which meant he wasn’t messing around.

“You need to hide too. God- there’s nowhere that he won’t check.” Technoblade mumbled, his brow creased, and he closed his eyes. “He CAN’T know about you! No one other than Tommy can, they’ll hurt you and-” Hesitantly you put your hands on his cheeks,

“Take a deep breath…” You said tenderly as he opened his eyes to lock with your own. “We’ll be okay, splash me with invis and I’ll stay by Edward, hopefully it’ll mask my particle effects.” He gave a worried nod; you pecked his lips tenderly to reassure him as he splashed you with the potion. Just in time too because a knock on the door sounded, for once Tommy was absolutely silent. You watched as a man who rivaled your boyfriend in size came through the door, your eyes widened at the white mask covering his face there was an almost haunting smile painted on it. You pressed your tongue against your teeth and watched him give a wave to your boyfriend. Even without seeing his face you could tell he was smirking coyly at him. Never one to be intimidated Technoblade gave him a casual greeting and their conversation about Tommy’s location began. You had to cover your mouth with your hands at one point to stop yourself from laughing as Techno began talking to ‘chat’ instead of talking to Dream. You watched as the masked man grew more and more angry at Technoblade’s antics, he began speaking about a favor and Techno reminded him that he believes in full reciprocity. At the end of the interaction, it took all of your strength not to punch Dream directly in his stupid masked face. Why the fuck did it sound like he wanted to murder a child? If Dream ever laid a finger on him again, he was personally going to feel your wrath. The potion wore off almost as soon as Dream disappeared over the hills, Techno immediately turned to Tommy anger written all over his face.

“Where you eating my gapples that ENTIRE time?!” Tommy sputtered out an excuse about absorption and you watched Techno open the window and beckon Dream to come back. You gave Technoblade a look and he scoffed at you,

“I won’t let him hurt you again Tommy. I promise.” You swore looking down at him, and his face turned a little pink. Tommy cleared his throat and shook his head,

“Thanks, Ms. Blade but I’m tough enough to fight him head on! Have no fear!” He pointed to himself with his thumb a proud smile adoring his face. You gave a little laugh and nodded in agreement,

“You definitely are. Thank you for reassuring me.” You hummed and his smile only seemed to widen,

“I’m more qualified to protect your girlfriend than you are it seems Technoblade.”

Technoblade looked unamused, his eyebrow twitching in distaste. “Tommy I literally hate you so much. You’re a nerd.”

“Play nice both of you.” You scolded them, “We have to work together and at least pretend to get along or it’s going to be a very long partnership.” They both nodded reluctantly, and Techno sighed tiredly, he ruffled your hair. The rest of the night was spent gathering some more food in hopes it would stop Tommy’s gapple eating tirade, it obviously wouldn’t but it didn’t hurt to try. After that all three of you turned in for the night, as both you and Technoblade were getting ready for bed he decided to speak up about the plan for the next day.

“Tommy and I need to make a trek into L’manburg to find Phil and try to get my stuff back. I don’t want to leave you here alone considering what just happened today, but you also can’t come to L’manburg.”

“Bubs you know I’ll be fine here alone did we not just have this conversation?” You pinched his pointed ears, and he made a sound of protest. “I’ve got fighting skills, after all have you not been training me in the art of war?” You teased with a smirk, “I got this Blade.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” He leaned forward and kissed you and you kissed him back without hesitation. You felt him squeeze your hand fondly before pulling away from you. “When we get back home, we’ll have a date night okay?” Technoblade whispered softly pressing his forehead to yours.

“Gonna be a bit hard with the raccoon boy snooping around.” You teased eyes sparkling in delight,

“I’ll send him on a quest for something or other. So, it’ll be just us, I swear.” The soft look on Technoblade’s face made your heart squeeze in your chest. He brushed your hair behind your ear, “I’ll make you dinner, and we can watch a movie.”

“Well don’t take too long then.” You sent a teasing wink his way and he smiled fondly back at you. You kissed him again pulling him down into the bed, you both bounced with a laugh. His pink hair hung down and framed his face gorgeously, his glasses slipped down his nose. You pushed them back up with your index finger and he went cross-eyed, “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

The next morning rolled around and after breakfast both boys reluctantly packed a bag with important things they needed for the day. Stepping outside with the two of them, Technoblade gave you a farewell kiss and you watched them disappear over the hills. They were most likely going to go cause problems for other people on purpose. Finally alone, you decided to check up on the nearby villages to see if they had any interesting trades that you and Techno could exploit. You slung a bag over your shoulder and placed a good portion of emeralds inside of it, you placed a few potions inside of the bag as well. As a precaution you also grabbed an axe and a sword, you had to be ready for anything after all. Shutting the door behind you, you started your trek through the snow-covered woods you heard the snow crunch under your boots and began to hum softly to yourself. You paused a moment and raised an eyebrow as you caught sight of a blue sheep wandering by, tilting your head to the side you approached it.

“Well, hey little guy.” You murmured reaching out and running your hand through the sheep’s soft wool.

“Oh, um excuse me!” A voice spoke from behind you, you jumped with a yelp as soon as you spun around you were met with a fully transparent man. He had a yellow sweater with a big gash in his torso, and a beanie resting atop his head. You tilted your head up and locked eyes with him, they were almost completely white.

He was a ghost.

“That’s Friend! She doesn’t really like others petting her but it’s okay because you didn’t know.” The ghost smiled; it was contagious as you felt yourself smiling back at him.

“My bad, my names (Y/n). What’s yours?”

“Oh! I’m Ghostbur! It’s nice to meet you miss, I’ve never seen you around here before. Are you new to the SMP?” He tilted his head floating around you, almost as if to get a better look at you. You focused more on his name, Ghostbur, which means this was Wilbur Soot, ex-president of L’manburg, and ‘brother’ of Tommy and Technoblade.

You cleared your throat and rubbed the back of your neck. “No, I’ve lived in this area for a while, but I’m a wandering adventurer. I trade with the villages around here for interesting collectables stuff like that. I don’t do much of that now though.” You watched the ghost’s eyes widen a little,

“That’s so cool!” He praised, “I bet you have a ton of cool stories.”

“Yeah, there’s been a few close calls, but I’ve made it back alive and well- oh shit no offense.” You winced a little and he laughed shaking his head,

“No worries it’s okay! I’m fine with being dead you know, no one really liked who I was alive, so this is better for everybody.” He puffed out his chest a little and a big smile spread across his face, that only caused you to frown. You reached out to try and touch him and your hand went right through the man, you both seemed to shiver at that, and he looked at you in shock.

“I’m sorry to hear that...that must be really hard.” Wilbur’s jaw dropped at your response, he floated around a bit awkwardly. If he wasn’t floating, he would’ve been shuffling on his feet in a nervous manner.

“N-No it’s…Wilbur was a horrible, horrible man.” He took a deep breath and began to throw some sort of blue substance on the ground in a rapid manner, you watched as he began to mutter and breath heavily.

“Woah, woah, woah I’m sorry don’t freak out!”

“I’m not, I'm okay see, see I’m fine and happy. Very happy with everything that’s going on so no worries okay! Here.” He tossed the blue substance at you and you collected it with a weary smile, “Have some blue it’ll make you feel better.” You thanked him quietly and you both stood there a bit uncomfortably that was until thunder rumbled overhead. “Oh no…I melt in the rain.”

“Here why don’t you come with me.” You smiled softly, “I know a place where you can wait out the storm.”

“Aw thank you.” Ghostbur clapped, “Friend can come too right?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then lead the way.” He chirped as Ghostbur followed you back the way you came, now before you get too mad at yourself you should know that Technoblade had informed you that during his ‘execution’ Ghostbur had visited him at his home. If he didn’t share that information with you, you’d be never revealing Technoblade’s base. As the house appeared over the mountains the ghost looked over at you with a bright smile, “Oh! That’s my friend Technoblade’s house, do you live with him?”

“I do.” You smiled fondly and watched his smile grow excitedly, “He’s helped me out quite a lot.”

“That’s wonderful! Technoblade usually never helps people unless he likes them or if they can do something for him in return. You must be very special, are you two together?” He only had to glance at you for a moment before laughing excitedly, “You are! That’s wonderful!” Ghostbur chirped, clapping his hands as he phased through Technoblade’s door, officially safe out of the rain, turned snow. You had let Friend inside as well and Ghostbur continued talking “Tell me how you met, please, please, please.” Seeing how excited the ghost was you melted, he won your heart just like Tommy. However, you had to keep in mind his alive self-did blow up an entire nation and that couldn’t be just brushed away like he seemingly was trying to do, you can’t erase the past. You can only accept what happens, learn from it, apologize and grow. However, you didn’t see the harm in sharing how the both of you met so you began to retell the tale to Ghostbur, the entire time he had an almost bittersweet look on his face.

“I was married once...her name was Sally. She...left though. But I still had my son, Fundy and we did the best we could together.” Ghostbur said fondly his eyes softening,

“I’m sorry...that must’ve been really hard for the both of you.”

“It’s alright! She was a salmon, so she was going to swim away eventually.”

“Like- like an actual salmon?”

“Yes?”

The silence that stretched into the room was deafening, you cleared your throat deciding not to dwell on the fact that the ghost in front of you very likely fucked a fish. You hoped to god she was some sort of shapeshifter, in fact that’s what you were going to believe. You managed to break the silence by asking about Fundy, and the way he gushed about him was nothing less than fatherly. It was sweet and you listened intently to him, Fundy seemed like a good kid, a bit quirky but you were dating a blood god so who were you to judge? Eventually the snow outside stopped and the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds. Ghostbur glanced out the window and decided it was time for him to head out with Friend. It was about midday and you were almost sad to see him go.

Alone again.

You still had hours to kill before Technoblade and Tommy reappeared, so you figured it was about time to start doing some chores.

---

“Ghostbur what’re you doing here?” Fundy murmured softly, looking over at the ghost with an exhausted expression. His ears were pressed back against his head, talking to the man who was once considered his dad always made him exhausted. Wilbur, or Ghostbur now, really was pitiful.

“Can’t I visit you every once in a while!” Ghostbur hummed a smile plastered on his face as Fundy frowned.

“Preferably not. Plus...I’m a little busy right now I’m meeting up with Quackity and the Butcher Squad to talk about Techno again.”

“OH! Technoblade! I just spent the loveliest morning with his girlfriend, she was absolutely wonderful! She asked all about you and just adored Friend-”

“Rewind, Technoblade’s what?” Fundy’s jaw dropped to the floor and he felt a hand on his shoulder, the young fox man stiffened. He looked to the side and saw Quackity besides him, Ranboo was next to him but Tubbo stood a little ways away.

“Yeah Ghostbur. Do continue.” Quackity grinned, his missing tooth sticking out from his last encounter with Toothpick. Ghostbur wilted a little bit and his eyebrows creased on his forehead, he fucked up didn’t he?

“I-um nothing actually I misspoke.”

“Did he misspeak Fundy, cause to me it sounds like we have new leverage against Technoblade.” Quackity laughed a crazed look in his eyes, “Once again Ghostbur I have to thank you for the great information.”

“You’re welcome…” He murmured weakly, as Quackity stepped besides the ghost.

“Get your weapons boys, it’s time to pay the Technoblade household another visit.”

~~~

Hey guys! Pt. III is officially up! Technoblade’s livestreams huh? :)

Also friendship with Tommy ended Ranboo’s my new favorite child.

As always I love your feedback thanks for reading!

#dream smp #dreamsmp x reader #technoblade #technoblade x reader #ghostbur #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt #minecraft fanfiction #blood for the blood god #rp #fanfiction #fanfic #wilbur soot

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redfoxwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 24)

Welcome! Happy Friday! Kit does in fact Live! Who knew, right? I got the cold of death this week and I swear to GOD I’ve been asleep more than awake. But those who have been keeping up with the family bullshit that has knocked this to biweekly updates and killed my will to write- Cora’s getting a 504 plan so she’s promised the same accommodations she’s getting now from the teacher in the following years. WooHoo! Still some kinks to work out but I *hope* to be writing enough to get this back to weekly updates by the end of March.

Clint x ofc, Series rating: M, Series warnings: Pretty much every Trigger warning that can exist is in this series at some point.

Masterlist

Feed me coffee

Chapter warnings: None

Chapter 24: Going Up

The cold nipped at her cheeks and nose. The heavy coat she wore had belonged to Laura and was two sizes too big, at least. Clint had told her Laura had gotten it while she was pregnant with one of the kids. It smelled like the house and nothing more, a fact for which Deanna was beyond thankful for.

A bitter cold snap had rolled through the area and while Clint had no trouble at all keeping the farmhouse, greenhouse shed and chicken coop warm enough, it did put a damper on their plans. She had made it clear to Clint on the fourth day that she wasn’t prepared to be a mother again. They needed to at least attempt to retrieve Elsa’s mother.

Because of her unwillingness to wait out the cold spell, Clint made damn sure she wouldn’t suffer from exposure. Strapped to her back, under the heavy coat was Elsa. Her body heat combined with the protection of the coat assured them that the small body would be warm enough.

Clint had driven them a good ways, circling the city in the distance. He assured her that the paths they were taking would keep them out of sight of any scouts. In truth, he hadn't expected them to have any scouts but it was better to be safe than sorry. Finally, when he had picked a way in, he parked the truck off the road and wedged it under a large pine. The sagging branches helped hide it but there wasn’t much that could be done about the tracks themselves. Trust trotted along, keeping pace at their heels, unconcerned with the cold.

It was early in the morning, the sun had only began to rise as they started walking. They hiked through the snow for what felt like a lifetime. Clint lead the way and she fallowed in a half asleep daze. There was no sign of another person as far as she could see.

The city loomed in the distance, growing larger with each passing hour. They walked by moonlight alone. Clint didn’t want to use a flashlight and while she understood, Dee didn’t exactly have her feet under her. She wasn’t used to traversing more than her home in the dark. Snow and ice crunched under their feet as Clint guided them along animal trails.

When he reached out and squeezed her glove covered hand with his own, it reassured her. He didn’t expect her to know everything or to be battle ready. He was kind and patient with her even as he urged her forward at a grueling pace.

They walked toward a large building, the largest on the outskirts of the city. She knew what was in store for her, but Dee wasn’t even remotely excited about it.

The glass windows were broken in on the ground floor and many on the second had been shattered as well. They carefully made their way inside. Clint carried the dog over the sea of broken glass, whispering to himself about having to find or make booties for the pooch to protect his feet in the future. Such care was enduring to Dee. He took such good care of them. She couldn't imagine a life in this new world without him.

“How far up are we going?” Deanna asked. Clint pulled open the door to the stairwell, finally clicking on his flashlight.

“All the way. I want on the roof.”

She watched as he worked. It was fascinating, the things he looked for to assure their safety. He checked things she didn’t even think of. like dust on the ground or types of trash. As he worked, he whispered a play by play of what he was looking for. He taught her with the hopes that if she ever had to do this alone, she could.

The flashlight illuminated the landing where undisturbed dust had settled. He shone it under the stairs, checking that no one was hiding out before shining the light up the stairs. Only when he was sure that everything he could see had been untouched for a while, did he start them up the stairs.

“Never treat a stairwell as the only way up or down.” He whispered as they started on the stairwell leading up to the third floor. “Most of the time there is at least one more stairwell at the other side of the building. If it’s in a corner- you can almost count on there being three more- one in each corner.”

She’d never thought about that. There were so many things she had never even thought of. The thought plagued her. Even if she hadn’t hurt her ankle that day, how long would she have really survived? Would she have embraced a group like this, learned to look the other way to protect herself? Would she have been taken captive by one? Would she have tried to fight back only to end up dead on the side of the road?

How many people were killed by groups like this? She knew what was left of the Avengers team, fractured as they were, were working to restore something resembling order to the east coast. Clint had told her how their hold had spread farther and farther west but until proper order was restored, this was life for who knows how many people.

It was hard not to think about the state of things when all she had to do was climb stair after stair. Her legs burned. She wasn’t in any shape for this, though she expected to be in much more pain than she was in. Her body had become stronger over the last four months and she largely hadn’t noticed it.

“Has there been any word for New York?” She whiskered, growing tired of listening only to the sound of their boot falls and her racing thoughts. As they reached the fifth floor, they began to feel safer in their solitude. No one was around.

No one stirred, not even a mouse.

“They’ve located the VP a while ago. He’s something resembling stable now.”

“Stable?”

Clint shrugged. “The decimation- it was hard on everyone. He lost a lot of his friends, parts of his family. For a while it wasn’t looking like he could lead the country.”

“I guess he’s President now?”

“Yep. Rhodes is pretty much in charge of the air force for now. Not sure if he’ll stay in that position as they fill the ranks. Probably, anyway. They’ve put a call on the AM radio stations for any and all military personnel to make their way east. It’s hard to say how many will show up. I guess it’s been a small trickle.”

“That’s good though, right?”

“Yeah.” Silence spanned for a few moments, broken only by the sound of their boots. “I’m not going though. I told them, I can’t. I won’t.”

“It’s good though, that things are getting figured out. Maybe soon people like King Jacob won’t be a problem anymore.”

“People like King Jacob and his band of thugs will always be a problem. Always have and always will be.”

It felt like a lifetime before they reached the roof. They stopped, feeding the baby a few floors from the top. She was young enough that being settled close to Dee’s skin was enough to keep her quite. Little Elsa was staying warm and spent much of her time sleeping. When she was awake, Dee hiked her higher on her back and used the hood to shield the small head, allowing hr to look around some. The baby likely mostly had a view of hair, though. It was the thought that counted, right?

As Clint looked over the edge of the roof, Dee sat near the door and played with little Elsa. It was better to see to the child now, while she could than have the baby want attention or need a feeding while they were in a dangerous spot. There wasn’t much she could do to control the timing of a soiled diaper beyond pray that it didn’t make her cry when they needed her silent.

“Let’s go.”

Dee must have dozed off with the baby in her arms. Clint’s voice startled her awake. Golden morning sun shone out over them. It wasn’t by much but they didn’t leave in the ‘early morning’ like Clint had said. Just because the clock read ‘AM’ didn't make it ‘morning’ but she hadn’t argued about it. Still, half past two was ‘early morning’ in Clint’s book. It had to be something close to six or so, now.

Just as everything that goes up must come down, they had to walk down the stairs- one flight at a time. They went faster down, having gravity on their side. Still, she never wanted to look at another stair again in her life. Ever. Clint was going to have to carry her up the stairs of the farmhouse if he wanted her to go back inside it.

Assuming they both survived.

She followed him, staying close on his heels as they moved through city streets. Clint didn’t tell her much about the path they took beyond that it was safe. Or rather, pretty safe but that was as safe as anything got when they were off his property. That had to be good enough.

For a few hours, they trucked through snow as they worked their way deeper into the city using alley ways and working to remain hidden. The sun hung low in the sky still, providing long shadows for them to move through. Still, it was impossible to ignore the way her anxiety climbed right along with the sun.

She could almost taste the relief when they slipped inside the building Clint had picked out. It was sweeter than any candy she had had. Still, Clint moved them into the building slowly. He thoroughly checked the ground floor, ensuring it was empty before leading them up the first flight of stairs.

This building was taller than the prior, which was why Clint had picked it. Each flight of stairs was harder than the last to climb and after four flights, it became clear that she needed a break.

Clint ordered her to wait in the stairwell, of the fifth flight as he checked the floor. She agreed willingly, causing him to worry. They worked little Elsa out of her jacket and made her a bottle of formula. It wouldn’t be warm like it should have been but the water was at body temperature at least, having been stored in an internal side pocket of her coat.

Once they were settled, Clint started on checking the floor for any sign of use. Some windows were cracked but most were intact, keeping the bitter wind out. Fine dust covered the ground, far more dust than would be expected for how long the building had sat empty.

He knew what that dust was. People who had been here and been lost. People he had failed. It was a toxic thought and he worked to push it away. Now wasn’t the time to think of the people that the heroes of the world had failed that summer.

Right now, what mattered most was that he didn’t fail to protect Dee. What mattered was that he did everything within reason to protect Elsa and reunite her with her mother. What mattered was that those who were taking advantage of others were punished.

He couldn’t find any sign of human life on the floor. Sure, rat activity seemed to be present but he expected that. Rats would be a problem in any city right now. Once he was satisfied that the floor was empty, he set to work barricading the other stairwell doors.

They would rest. They needed to rest and eat but he would only allow them to do so once he was certain that there was no way to get on or off this floor without him knowing. Only when he was satisfied did he go back to Dee.

Wordlessly, he ushered her out of the stairwell and into the floor. It was filled with cubicles and desks. The black screens of computers taunted her with the memory of what had been. Dust floated up around their feet as they walked. Clint lead the way to a small office, probably having belonged to the floor manager. The door was closed but the walls were lined with glass windows, giving it a view of the whole floor.

Inside, there was very little dust. The dust in that office was light and lacked that oddly oily nature that the dust created out of people by the decimation had. When it happened, the room had been empty and the door closed. It was clean.

Dee sat on the floor and set baby Elsa down next to her. As she laid next to the baby, her back popped in places. It felt so good to be off her feet, to have the weight and strain off her legs. Trust laid down next to Elsa, keeping his side touching the small baby, providing her warmth.

Clint left the door to the office open as he sat on the floor next to them. The backpack he carried was large and heavy. It felt amazing to have the weight off his back. Soon, soon they would be in place and he wouldn’t have to keep carrying it for much longer.

He planned to let them rest for the next hour or two. It wasn’t nearly as much rest as he knew Dee needed but it was as also far more than he wanted to give them. Opening the backpack, he set to work unpacking it. He set a foam bowl out and filled it with water for Trust. The dog had largely been eating mouth fulls of snow as they walked but was eager to get a proper drink anyway.

On a paper plate, he dumped a can of wet dog food. That excited Trust. With the dog taken care of, he grabbed up the baby and gave her a change. She’d drank most of the bottle that Dee had given her and was now more than content to eat her toes for a while.

“Is that safe?” Dee asked as he set out a small propane burner designed for camping and lit it.

“Yes and no.” He answered, setting a small metal pot on and popping open one of their cans of stew and dumping it inside. “You normally use them outside, the fumes build up and are toxic. But the floor is open, the door is open and we won’t be allowing it to burn long enough to put us in danger. The exposure is worth having a hot meal.”

He was right, the meal did much more to help her recover her strength than she had expected. There was still the throbbing ache in her legs and back but she felt significantly less like death. The idea of walking up the rest of the stairs however was still something she had no interest in doing.

After eating his share, Clint pulled himself to his feet and Dee audibly groaned. “Don’t worry Babe, you don’t have to get up yet.”

“Oh thank god.” Dramatics were on full force as she made a show of sighing and relaxing against the wall. Before, she’d never liked dramatics. She felt that they were pointless and a waste of time but somehow, with him, they felt natural and she often didn’t even realize she was doing it until later. “What are you doing?”

“Checking to see what we can see from here.”

“What if someone sees you?”

“We’re too high for most people to see us unless they are looking from another building.”

“And they could be.”

“But unlikely. This lot seems not inclined to climb stairs. No one’s been in this one or the last building. Seems safe enough to assume they likely are not high in the others.”

“Safe enough?” She mocked.

Clint rolled his eyes and made his way toward the windows. While he felt reasonably sure enough of his calculation that he wouldn’t be seen, he wasn’t going to dance naked in front of a window either. “There’s going to be a glare on the glass from the sun anyway. It’ll be hard for anyone to really look for long enough to notice movement.”

“If you say so.”

He did say so. Again and again he told himself that as he peeked down through the glass. Ever calm and sure of himself on the exterior, Dee would never guess that there was a steady river of anxiety running through him.

He knew she was right. It was dangerous to approach the window. It put him in the open. He could be spotted. He could be shot. But there was always a risk. He had to weigh that risk against the benefit of information. Right now, he needed information to keep them alive.

He hadn’t told Dee, but he had caught sight of movement in some buildings as they had made their way to this building. There was only so much he could do to keep them in the shadows but there was a chance that King Jacob’s gang knew that there were outsiders in the town.

If they were lucky, no one thought anything if a couple walking through the shadows. Should he have told Dee? His mind was at war over it. It wouldn’t do any good to stress her out, to raise her anxiety levels even higher, right? But there was a part of him that knew she couldn’t be prepared to defend herself if she didn’t know there was an additional threat.

He shook his head and pushed the thoughts away. It was important to focus right now. The binoculars were wedged in his pocket and he had to work a bit to get them out. Even as he worked them free, he kept his eyes trained on the buildings across. There was no movement in them that he could see.

With the binoculars, he was able to take a closer look. There were clear paths through the snow that gave way what roads were most trafficked. Other roads were untouched by human footprints and mainly filled with animal tracks. People moved down below.

They were dirty people. Some were clearly injured. Most were not dressed for the unusual cold. Small groups gathered around trashcan fires, warming fingers. There was a consistent lack of women and younger children.

Everyone he could see looked tired, thin and ragged. They were not weathering the winter well. Turning his eyes toward the city center park, it was clear where King Jacob set himself up. There was a stage built and things hanging from rafters.

Bodies. There were bodies swinging in the wind. One had to be no older than 14.

King Jacob needed to die.

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @usedtobegoodfriend96, @acoholic-muffin, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @carissime72, @myoxisbroken, @coyotesongwriting, @wegingerangelica, @faemapfae, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123, @tnystrk-exe

#clint x ofc #clint x oc #clint barton fanfiction #clint barton x oc #clint barton x ofc

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randomkposts · 4 years

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Katniss Everdeen Aromantic.

The thing about the Hunger Games, and why I head-canon Katniss as Aro, or at least grey, is that romance seemed to matter to everyone but her. She describes food in much more loving detail than any of her love interests.

Katniss, in the first books, says outright that she doesn't want to get married or have kids, as she doesn't want them to be entered into the games. Even a victor's kids would not be safe from the games.

She spends the first book believing that Peeta being in love with her is a strategy, something she adopts when it becomes needed. It's a way to allow her to get both of them home. It's only after, she realizes "oh shit! He wasn't pretending!" And he realizes "she did it to survive". Things become strained between them after that point.

President Snow doesn't believe in the love story the rest of the capitol does. But he does focus on that as the threat. He threatens Katniss's family to get her to keep to the status quo.

Katniss and Peeta spread the fire by paying respects to district eleven.

Katniss explores her feelings for Gale, and goes as far as to kiss him. But bigger concerns soon come between that budding relationship. It won't pan out between them, not because of what they are willing to fight for, but over what they are willing to sacrifice in the fight.

Katniss enters in her would be wedding dress, with rebellion hidden within. Cinna understood.

In the interviews, Peeta is a master painter. He paints the audience a picture of their secret marriage, a pregnancy. Despite being desensitized to seeing children fight to the death on a yearly basis, the audience is outraged over the thought of Katniss losing the child she would never intend to have in this cruel world.

The tributes hold hands, symbolizing their friendship, and the lights are killed.

They go into the arena, and this time, their affection is real for them both.

Katniss has to be reminded she's pregnant more than once, and everyone covers.

She gets saved from the arena. Peeta doesn't.

Mockingjay, she spends trying to adjust. Building her relationships. Finding friends, but at a loss of purpose.

She tries being the mockingjay. She can't just read lines, and mean them with feeling. Peeta is the painter, the artist, able to make people see the narratives crafted in his head. Save for Katniss. He is using them against district 13 and Katniss as they speak.

Haymich understands that much about her at least, and puts her into scenarios that are dangerous, but meaningful to her. Her words are genuine. That is why people are listening. Truth is a guiding star, burning brightly amongst the web of lies, lighting the way.

Gale is throwing himself into war, forging ahead with no care for what the consequences may be. He knows not what he will leave in his wake. Perhaps that would be different if he had been in the games. Perhaps not. Gale might have been able to survive the games, in a way that any other tribute did. By killing other children, to come home to those who mattered to him.

Peeta is brought back, and dangerous to her. And she helps him still. For she loves him, in the way Katniss loves people.

Not in the way of burning stars that passion is made of. But in a way that is steady and loyal and true. It was not romantic love that Snow should have feared coming from her. Katniss does not give romantic love to people. She gives them love, and it is love in truths, in promises kept, in gifts given, and deeds done. She is not always kind, and kindness is not always honest. She does not want hearts. She never knows what to do with them.

She wants safety. And neither Snow nor Coin will give her that.

She fights. She fights for her friends, and parts of her break when she can not save them.

She fights to the capitol, loss in her bones, and sees that no one is safe.

She stops speaking, stops interacting.

She goes to Haymitch, who makes some jokes about problems in Paradise. Her world has imploded with the loss of her sister, glass shards sticking out from her skin, and all he can think about, all anyone can think about in the context of her, is romance. The capitol thinks it, the rebels think it, even her friends think it. The audience thinks about it. Everyone except Katniss thinks about it. She screams, because that is not who she is. Not what she wants. And she is sick and tired of being painted with that brush.

She had thought Haymich had known her better.

She goes to Snow, in his Garden. He knows why she's here. He says"Miss Everdeen, I thought we had agreed not to lie to one another". A line I feel is so full of meaning. A truth, burning and bitter. President Snow has done many things. Sent her to the death, trapped her in agreements she could not keep, broken those she cared about, killed people. But they have never directly lied to one another.

President Snow has never kept her safe. But will President Coin be honest? Will she be safe?

Katniss has learned something about playing the game, though the audience does not know it yet. She votes in favor of a finale to the hunger games.

And when it is time to kill Snow, she kills Coin. Maybe she isn't safe. But maybe one day, other people can be.

She lives. And she goes home, tired and worn and thin. And Peeta goes with her. He takes care of her. She paid her debt to him, but he still owes her more than she would know what to do with.

They aren't in love. His feelings were burned out in his torture in the capitol. He's still figuring his shit out. She didn't love him like he loved her, once. But they love each other. Quiet and steady.

And they heal.

Maybe Katniss does fall in love with him then. And he falls in love with her again, slowly and truly.

Maybe they don't fall in love, like that. And maybe, it's enough to love each other.

Katniss heals, and decides, maybe she wouldn't mind kids. They won't be in any hunger games. She asks Peeta. He's enthusiastic.

Peeta and Katniss make choices differently from their parents. Things are safe now.

Their children grow up never doubting that they are loved.

#Random K #Hunger games #Katniss Everdeen #Aromantic #Grey Katniss #headcanon

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