#it was so hard not to spend another chunk on the latest drop but i had to behave | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lunarw0rks · 9 months

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Hello again! I love your works and it's super early to request another but I read your latest post and I loved it! So if you don't mind, could you do headcanons on 141 reacting to their s/o cleaning their car?

Like one of those stereotypical scenes where she's in a bikini or a bikini top with shorts and she's cleaning her car, like she loves her car so she cleans it alot but this is the first time they see the full scene. NSFW would be amazing if you would be ok with it :)

Thank you :]

In The Sunlight // 141 Headcanons (+Ale)

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), suggestive language/content, established relationship, fem!reader, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.6k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? // ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

SYNOPSIS; summer hit, and it hit hard.

Sizzling atmosphere, sky-rocketing temps, and revolving fans working overtime. Every year, people complain that they miss winter when the high temps smack them in the face, but they wish for the heat when the leaves fall. For you—you would take any excuse to enjoy the hose and sprinkler, sometimes washing your car weekly as an excuse to cool off. Cold showers, ice packs, air conditioning; it wasn’t enough.

On the bright side, it gave you an excuse to wash your beloved car. To run the hose on the vehicle, and most of all your sweating skin; all while wearing revealing summer attire.

Price

John was due to be home that day, the house was lonely, and you were miserable in the heat. Why not be outside when he comes home? You dressed yourself in a bikini to sprit yourself with the hose, spending about half the time searching for a cool off than washing your car. In your other hand, you had an drink with more ice cubes than liquid; a soothing cube to crunch on while you worked. You swirled your drink as you put another cube between your teeth, spreading the foamy soap with intense focus.

That focus broke when his car finally pulled into the driveway, revealing his attempt at an eager welcome. He was exhausted, but never too exhausted to greet you. Besides, you wearing a basically see-through swimsuit? How can he resist?

❝Don’t work too hard, sweetheart. You’ll get heat stroke.❞ John crept up to you, dropping his duffel. He leaned down and sipped from your drink, picking up an ice cube between his teeth. His lips leaned forward, tracing the ice along your neck and down your cleavage until it melted against your flesh. ❝Let me help you cool off, I missed all of you.❞ His lips found your drink again, meeting your lips with a dripping chunk of ice—a whole new meaning to a sloppy kiss.

Simon

Simon hates the heat—despises it, even. All year round, he wears dark colors, multiple layers, and most notably his balaclava. Does that stop him from ogling you? Not a bit. He can enjoy the view from inside, peering through the curtains at your soaked figure as you scrub your prized car. You lean over the edge, bikini top doing little to contain your breasts as he gets a good view down the top. Simon lets out an amused scoff at the sight, closing the curtains before you have the opportunity to spot him.

You come back inside for some water, wrapping a towel so you don’t dribble on the floor. A hand darts out of the doorway of the kitchen, Simon’s hand gripping the towel and giving it a yank until it falls to the floor. ❝Gave the neighbors a show, didn’t you?❞

He steps out from his hidden spot around the counter, giving your arm a gentle pull so you come towards him, until your face his inches from his. Normally, he leaves his teasing until nightfall, but he’s home and you’re soaked.

❝Need to get you into some better clothes.❞ His strong arms slither around your midsection, gripping intensely. No better excuse, assisting you in getting another change of clothes after he carries you to the bedroom.

Soap

The humidity constantly disturbed your slumber. You and Soap’s shared bedroom was more like a sauna, no matter how long the fans or AC ran. It was so severe you laid awake during the early morning, tossing and turning, peeling the covers stuck to your sweaty body. There was no point in attempting to sleep, you were wide awake at four-thirty in the morning, might as well go outside and cool off. Your car could use a wash, anyhow.

You slipped on a bikini and stepped out into the morning air. The sun hadn’t risen completely, so the heat wasn’t unbearable yet. The hose spewed a stream of water on the hood as you did your first rinse, then scoured cleaner on it. You bent over the hood of your car to reach a spot you missed, lips curled in concentration.

When you felt a pair of hands on your hips, you let out a squeal, quickly soothed by a familiar accent. ❝Don’t move,❞ he purred into your ear, tugging your bottoms down to your ankles. Soap knelt behind you, swiping his tongue along your folds. Your gaze darts around the dim streets, insisting a neighbor will see.

He speaks, then his licks only gained intensity and sloppiness. ❝Let ‘em see.❞

Gaz

As soon as the two of you find time to be outside, it’s an immature sight; chasing each other through the backyard, spraying one another with the hose, or on days where he’s beat, he’ll simply watch you from the hot tub. Today, it was betrayal. You were washing your car, completely believing the fact that Gaz was “too tired” for games tonight. He was too calculated to not have a battle plan, you should’ve known better, right?

As you’ve returned from refilling the soapy bucket, there’s an icy pour of ice water, over the top of your hair, soaking your bikini top, all the way down your jean shorts and legs. With an agape mouth, you drop the bucket and chase after his fleeting figure—a smug grin on his face the whole time. When you round the corner into the backyard, he’s nowhere in sight. As you creep up on the shed, he finally reveals himself, sending you both to a tumble in the grass.

Kyle constricts your arms above your head, grinning down at your hopeless struggle. ❝I didn’t cheat, you just need better eyes, babe.❞ He loosens his grip when you stop fighting him, leaning down to press a kiss on your lips. He places a knee between your legs, staring down at your soaked bikini top hungrily. ❝You look so goddamn sexy like this…❞

Alejandro

You were washing away, brows knitted in focus. Then, you remembered you had left your water bottle on the kitchen counter. The windows were wide open because you were airing out the house on a hot day, so it was worth a shot hollering for Alejandro. ❝Ale, can you bring me my water? Ale?❞ You raise your voice slightly because there’s no way he can’t hear you.

❝In the backyard, cariño.❞ His unmistakable voice replies, distant from the back of the house. You sigh and enter the house, finding your water but no sign of Alejandro, even through the paned glass windows and sliding door. In reality; he had been ogling you for several minutes, waiting for his opportunity for either you to ask for something, or him making something up on the spot. Lucky for him, your need for your bottle had everything going according to plan.

You exited to the backyard, holding a hand up to block the sun. Even if he was visible right now, he would be impossible to spot from the blaze of the star. ❝Right here, amor.❞ Alejandro crept out from out of the shade, wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You knew what this meant—it was inevitable with him. And yet, you fell for it again.

In the next second, you were plunged into the pool, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist. He chuckles at your whines of contempt, pressing his forehead against yours. ❝How was that? You fell for it again, que no?❞ It’s obvious he can’t resist you in a bikini.

Laswell

There are two things Kate can’t get enough of; sunbathing and eyeing you. Sitting on the lounge chairs, reclined with a book or magazine in hand. It’s not often she’s on leave, or home long enough to spend outside. Today was different—she had some time off. She intended to spend as much time outside enjoying the heat, much more preferable than being cooped up in an understimulating base. And watching you while she vedged out? It’s a common pursuit of hers, bikini on or not.

You held your hair up with one hand, the other using the sprinkler setting to mist yourself. Kate tipped her sunglasses down slightly to get a better view, a warm beam spreading on her face. Her nose crinkled slightly as you sprayed the hood of the car, spreading the suds around on the surface.

She flicked to the next page of her magazine, soaking in the sunbeams.

Though she would never say it out in the open, she was certainly ogling her favorite parts of you; your sunkissed chest, the curves hugged tight by shorts—all a cherished image for the next time she leaves, and probably later that night after dinner. ❝How much for you to do mine too, babe?❞

To add to it, she probably snaps candid photos of you, the stream of them probably ending with you blocking the lens with your hands. She’s her own favorite comedian, your complaints and embarrassed whines are a close second.

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jwittekchatter · 2 months

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Livestream Recap Tuesday, 27 Feb

-said he was in a crappy mood because of Cody being up his ass in his apartment and calling pharmacies

-had a lot of work stuff coming up, got humbled/his ass kicked at Sean’s gym. Said the training session was brutal

-said he’s not sure what he was thinking because he’s only done like 10 MMA classes and thinks he’s going to do a pro fight

-pretended to meditate (like back when he was with Georgie) then said “remember when we were in that relationship where I was being manipulated” - very strange comment to make since WE weren’t in a relationship together and HE wasn’t in a relationship with Georgie either

-said he’s done skydiving forever because of that hematoma he got last time, still has a lump from it

-knows it’s hard to keep up with his phases of what he’s into

-thinks Kyle was inspired to run the upcoming LA marathon because of Jeff running the NY one but Kyle hasn’t officially said that 🙄

-had a body scan (he showed on his Snaps) and said he’s in perfect health

-got that blue box chocolate PR box from Mr. Beast. It’s lit up so there was a black battery pack in the box. Cody being the moron he is said that it was a listening device and Jeff started getting paranoid. I thought he was joking but if you watched him in the H3 stream he mentioned it there again and seemed like he actually believed it.

-said he has a funny dating story that he’s waiting to share in live shows. A tour will be in the future. (He’s been saying this since fall 2021 guys. He’s lost a huge chunk of his supporters he had when Patreon started. The new influx of viewers he has now are Tana fans and probably wouldn’t pay to see his live show. I don’t think a live show will happen soon despite him saying it will. They’ve been spending Mondays as writing days for a live show though)

-said the latest meme on IG is true (it shows Jeff in bed with a girl and Cody in between them because he’s always around). Cody liked the meme but then seemed actually bothered by it on the live. He’s such a wimp.

-they both were sent Brooks running shoes after he whined about Cody Ko being sponsored for the NY Marathon (maybe because Cody is actually an athlete and focused on that)

-to Cody: “I gotta find a girlfriend eventually so you’ll have to find your own way”

-is proud of his niece with her bjj classes

-closed the pod room door and said they boys “lost” another pod episode while he was in AZ with Suga Sean. Handled it better but was annoyed. When the Bruce thing happened he asked Casey Neistat and his parents for advice

-someone asked if he feels like he’s his authentic self around his friends and Jeff of course said yes, around strangers too. 🙄

-Oscar said they could do an AI episode of the Bruce pod because I guess he has the audio and screenshots? Jeff sounded like he wants to do that but who knows with them

-said he used to be aggressive when they filmed the barbershop episodes but he’s gotten soft. Said it seems like he had more fun back then

-said he saw some clip of Tana and Brooke saying that Jeff is too hot and they couldn’t date him or something. He spoke in a weird voice and said he’d “get them” the next time they were on the show (he was joking and acting like they had said something offensive)

-there were issues with the live and it only worked on laptops but no phones so he was saying he will make a YouTube membership like H3 and move all previous Patreon vids over there. Then at the end he said he’d think about doing that so he doesn’t know what he’s doing, as usual.

-there will be a merch drop soon

-he said “consistency is key” which made me laugh because would any of us use consistent as a word to describe Jeff at all? Definitely not

-someone asked for advice about a long distance relationship but he’s never been in one so had no advice to give.

-said Cierra was gone to film a movie where she had to kiss a guy. He trusted her but it bothered him - but him acting like he’s sleeping with Tana shouldn’t bother a new girlfriend right? 🙄

-said he remembers the Australian girl and Morgan from the Bachelor but no one else

-I guess one of the girls is in law school and he said one of them would have to make a sacrifice to be close to the other and is wouldn’t be her if she’s in school - why he’s pretending like he’s move his entire life for a random girl he meets on this dumb dating show is so stupid

-some new girl asked what he likes to do in the bedroom and he said he’s not going to answer that - wtf is wrong with these new weirdo fans?

-said his life is so hard and he works so much - the lies he tells omg

-he got an infection in his mouth from cutting himself from his water pic, thought it was something worse

-someone said Cody is rotting Jeff’s brain and Jeff agreed

-asked if he’d put his kids on social media and said he’s not sure. His partner has a day in that so they’d have to decide - didn’t he say in the first Bachelor episode that the wife will have zero say in naming them and that he would only get to do that? I hope he was kidding but his change of tone was interesting.

-said he’s going to Miami for Suga Sean’s fight, I wonder if he’ll hang out with Mike and Sara? Last we saw Sara was pissed at Jeff and hasn’t been around him since. Will Mike choose her and Jeff be with other people?

Thanks!!

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insomniamamma · 3 years

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Rain: Ezra X F!Reader w/Cee

A/N: Prickle ‘verse. Takes place after Prickle but before Clean Dirt. Can be read as a one shot. Reader is established crew with Ezra and Cee. This was written for @autumnleaves1991-blog ‘s Writer Wednesday. I am woefully behind. I legit don’t understand how some of you write fics so fast!

Warnings: Mentions of war, a little bit of angst, but mostly gentle fluff. Feelings.

"Hey, Ez," Ezra is engrossed in grading the latest haul, testing for clarity and hardness. The surface of CJ's World is cut through with oxbow rivers, fantastic hoodoos of striated sandstone slashed with valleys deeper than any found in Sol system. You're digging for fossils. These rusty carved out plateaus were once the bed of an ancient ocean. Through some trickery of mineralization and chemistry the fossils of CJ's world shine like the fire opals of Old Terra. Big or small, they all have value. "Ezra," says Cee, "She's doing it again." "Doing what, birdie?" Ezra takes off the loupe and rubs at his eyes. Rain pelts on the tent, even sheltered the humidity soaks through. "Look." Ezra draws open the tent flap and sees you, standing in the rain, your head tilted up, no gentle shower this, rain that pelts down hard, turns the view across the sharp-cut canyons to silver curtains. Your clothes are plastered to you like a second skin. The rain actually aids your cause, washing away loose sediment, making the fossils easier to get to. You bow your head and let the stinging rain hit the back of your neck, let it fall on your closed eyes, your outspread arms. You laugh at the sky.

"What do you know about Falnost?" Cee's eyes go distant for a beat. She has a memory to rival Central computers.

"Hmmm..about two thirds standard grav, class C5, would've rated lower if not for it's primary. Dustball." "Mmm-hmm." "She's not used to real weather," says Cee. "Observant as ever," says Ezra. The rain is not gentle. It is chilly and hits your skin like handfuls of flung sand, but is so different from anything you've known, so new that you can't help but stand there with a huge, dumb grin plastered on your face, even as your teeth chatter with the cold. Ezra comes and gets you. "C'mon, Artichoke, while the rain does feel slinky and delicious it is not worth hypothermia." "Sorry, Ez," you say and allow him to take your hand and lead you back to shelter. This has become something of a habit. Many worlds in the fringe are dustballs like the one you fled, algae and fungus growing on every bit of pipe that condensation beads on. On Falnost they had a deal with the ice-miners, discounted accommodations on world or on station in exchange for chunks of ice from your primary's lush rings de-orbited, burning and evaporating as they fell. The idea was that, eventually, there would be moisture enough in the atmosphere to trigger rains. Someday Falnost will have an ocean, but you won't be there for it, half your life spent harvesting rills of water from sail-traps, careful irrigation channels covered over with plastic sheeting, calorie vs water consumption ratios discussed every planting season. How many credits do we net vs wha† we have to spend? You got fucking sick of dreaming of an ocean your great grandchildren might paddle in. You skimmed enough to buy your way off world and since then you have seen things that you never would have believed as a child. The first time you heard thunder was on a world called Ingwy. Your first thought was artillery. Ingwy was a contested world, Karoclan and Lussia Collective skirmishing over land rights, while small stakes droppers like you and Ez and Cee swooped in to reap the spoils while the big corps and clans fought each other. It was the middle of the night and you were on your feet instantly, railgun in hand, screaming that there was incoming, to take cover. Someone had flicked on a utility light hanging from a cord that swung, illuminating the inside of the tent in sickening arcs, and there's another explosion, this one so loud you feel the pressure change in your ears, hear your own voice crying out in tandem, white hot light even through the thick weave of the tent. "It's just thunder," Ezra yells over the sound of rain slamming against the tent. "That was an explosion!" He presses gently on your arm until you lower the rails. "It's just loud," says Ezra, "It can't hurt us. We're safe here. Put the gun down." You set on the edge of your cot and put your face in your hands. "Kevva. You must think I'm the dumbest dirt-farmer this side of the Great Arm." The cot dips as Ezra sits beside you. "Not at all," he says, squeezes your shoulder, "I come from a backwater as well. First time I ever saw a proper ocean I nearly lost my breakfast right there on the beach." Thunder peals again and you flinch, shrink against him slightly. "Static electricity," says Ezra, "That's all it is. Builds up in the clouds and discharges into the ground." He keeps his hand on you as he speaks, fingers gently squeezing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, "The sound you hear is the air in the path of the lightning instantly heating and expanding. It makes a sonic shock wave, like any explosion." "Like the boom when ships lift," you say. "Just like that, Artichoke," he says, "Storm's already moving off, see?" The rain pelting the tent has settled into a steady drone. Thunder grumbles, a low, almost soft sound, not the air-rending explosion that shocked you out of sleep. "We should try to rest," says Ezra, gives your shoulder one more firm squeeze and a little shake, and when you look up, he's smiling, dimple just beginning to sink into his cheek. "Yeah," you say, "Okay." He kills the utility light and settles into his cot. You can hear the music from Cee's headphones, the tinny, fast pop she favors, threaded through the white noise of the falling rain. She slept through the whole thing.

The ancient life of CJ's world favored heptagonal symmetry, long-dead mollusks like seven-sided shields shine out of the rusty ground, the smallest the size of a fingernail, the largest the size of dinner plates. This is a good deposit. The small ones are fashioned into jewelry and buttons. "They take these great big ones and slice them micron thin," says Ezra, "Use them for window-glass in the temples of the Ephrate. They say it is like standing inside Kevva's very beating heart." "I can see why," says Cee, and so do you. The minerals that limn the shells shine translucent red with brilliant streaks of orange, yellow and even thin threads of green and blue. "They say that Kevva's first heart-beat ignited the explosion that became the universe," says Ezra. "You really believe that?" Asks Cee. "I don't know if believe is the right word," says Ezra, "We all grew up with these stories, why my grandmother..." You smile and tune him out. The back and forth banter between Cee and Ezra is a pulse that underlies every harvest. Cee has grown more talkative with each drop. Their relationship has a growing ease to it. You don't know exactly what happened between them before you joined up, but Cee's initial skittishness and Ezra's new healed scars tell a story you can guess the shape of. You let their conversation fade into the background, focus on the work of your hands, the meticulous scrape of soft sediment away from the hard glitter of the fossil, working around the seven sided edge, loosen enough up to get your fingers under the shell and you can pry it out, focus on the sounds of the world around you, no birds on CJ's world, but there is a range of bug-music, hidden in crevasses in the midday heat, all metallic clicks and creaks. Your rail-gun rests within easy reach, as always. You worm your fingers under the edge of the shell, wiggling it like a loose tooth, pops out of the sediment suddenly and you plop on your ass in the sandy dirt. "You all right there, Artichoke?" Ezra grins at you. "I'll recover." You dust yourself off and take your prize over to the tub that sits in the shadow of the pod. Further cleaning and grading can be done after dark. Nights are long at this latitude. You stretch in the sunlight. This job is a milk-run compared to other drops, but hunkering in the dirt still hurts your knees and you feel every bit of it when you stand. There's a familiar sound, like a rumbling stomach, thunder, you think and glance up. "Ezra!" Your voice is urgent and sharp and he's scrabbling up in a heartbeat, hand on the thrower at his hip, but when he stands there is only you pointing out across the vast expanse of sharp-carved valleys and hoodoos, lined in sharply delineated shadows and rusted cliffs where the light catches. The rainbow swoops skyward into grey cloud-bellies, a luminous curtain against the grey clouds, distant rain falling across the canyons.

"Ezra, look!" Ezra exhales, tension leaching out of his shoulders. His hand drops away from the thrower. "Oh, hey, a rainbow," says Cee. You lower your arm and just stare, transfixed at the glowing phantasm, brightening and dimming with the movement of clouds between it and the sun. "It's beautiful," says Ezra. But he's not looking at the rainbow. He's looking at you. Your eyes are wide, lit up with wonder, an unconscious smile creeping across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes. The stiff professionalism that you wear as close as your body armor momentarily set down, forgotten. Ezra's heart squeezes. There you are, he thinks. He can count on his one hand the number of times he's seen you smile like this, open and carefree, rare and precious as the gems the three of you pull from the ground. Part of him wants to kiss you, but he suspects he would end up on his back in the dust with the barrel of your railgun jammed beneath his sternum, so instead he brushes his hand against yours and your fingers find his and squeeze hard. "I've never seen one before," you say, barely aware of Ezra's hand linked with yours, "I mean, I know what a rainbow is, but I've never seen one. Not in the real, just in vids." "They don't have rainbows on Falnost?" Says Cee. "They don't have rain on Falnost," you say, "Get's a little hazy sometimes after the ice-haulers make a drop, but that's about it." You shake your head as if just waking, the rainbow still shimmers, a bit duller now, and you are suddenly aware of Ezra's hand clasped with yours, the gentle pressure of his grasp. "Sorry," you drop your eyes, "I got distracted. We got work to do." Ezra gives your hand a squeeze and then lets you go. "Not to worry, Artichoke, rainbows are fleeting things. You look your fill while you can." And so you do. So does he.

#writers wednesday #ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra (prospect) x f!reader #ezra and cee

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set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years

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i never knew how much it would hurt to feel (this building collapse on top of me)

prompt: buried

whumpee: shawn spencer

fandom: psych

hi and welcome to my very first psych fic! i finished the show a couple weeks ago and finally get to write it! since this is my first fic there is a high chance the characterization is not the best and i do apologize but as i write more it will improve! i hope you like this anyway! (first part of the title is from some kind of disaster by all time low)

Shawn and Gus are poking their way through a falling-down, long-deserted office building on the outskirts of town, looking for clues about the latest murder case that they’ve gotten themselves assigned to. Gus pokes his head through a doorway and immediately recoils with a yelp, hands scrabbling frantically at his face.

“Spiders!” he shouts, and Shawn shines the beam of his flashlight on Gus’ face.

“Spider webs,” he says, reaching out to brush them away. “Ooh wait, what’s this - a giant tarantula on the back of your head?”

Gus slaps his hand away, brushes his own hand across the back of his head to confirm that there isn’t really a giant tarantula lurking there, and frowns at Shawn. “If we don’t find any clues soon -”

“C’mon, man, you know it’s a process. This building has two more floors we haven’t even seen yet.”

“Two more floors that look like they might collapse at any second.”

Shawn can’t argue with that, especially when the next step he takes makes his foot sink a couple inches into a rotting floorboard. He gingerly pulls it out and prepares to concede to Gus about the top two floors of the building.

“Okay, fine, we don’t have to go up -”

The ending of that sentence is drowned out by a horrific crashing noise, and before Shawn has time to process what’s happening, what feels like several tons of stuff is falling down on top of him in the single most painful event of his entire life. He screams, and dust and pieces of who-knows-what fill his mouth and he coughs and his chest burns and he can’t quite breathe right because something is pushing down on him and everything is dark -

Ah. That would be because his eyes are closed, Shawn realizes, in a moment of blinding clarity. He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly in the dust, and sees...a whole lot of junk. Chunks of plaster and concrete and wood surround him in a sort of enclave, and if he looks out across his body he can see what’s causing the issue with his breathing - a very large, very heavy piece of concrete, probably some kind of support beam. Excellent, Shawn thinks. Being buried alive in a mountain of old office is exactly how I wanted to spend my day.

He’s trying to distract himself from the pain with this line of thinking, which is half-working. If he can just not focus on how much it hurts for a few moments, until he can make his hands cooperate and grab his phone, or until he has enough air in his lungs to call out to Gus -

Gus! Shawn is trapped in his own personal bubble of debris, and Gus isn’t here. Which means he’s somewhere else, maybe hurt even worse than Shawn is, or maybe even dead, but Gus isn’t allowed to die, not like this, not -

“Shawn!”

Thank god you’re alive, buddy, Shawn thinks at Gus’ voice, and then he thinks, oh man, I actually have to yell back to Gus so he doesn’t think I’m dead. He takes as deep a breath as his constricted lungs will allow, which hurts like absolute hell, and shouts, as loudly as he can, “Gus!”

“Shawn!” he hears Gus yell again, as he tries to ride out the wave of pain burning through his entire chest. Don’t make me yell again, he thinks, forcing himself not to cough despite the large amount of dust that has gotten into his mouth, because he thinks the pain of that might actually kill him.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to yell again - he hears shifting noises and knows that Gus is getting closer. He tries to think of a way to let Gus know exactly where he is without opening his mouth again, and then realizes that one of his arms disappears underneath the rubble currently boxing him in. His hand doesn’t feel like it’s buried, though, so he thinks that it must be on the outside, and maybe Gus can see it. He concentrates very hard and wiggles his fingers, taps them on the ground, and hopes that Gus is as close as he sounds.

And he is. A few seconds of wiggling and tapping pass, and then Shawn feels Gus’ hand touch his own. “Shawn?”

Shawn curls his fingers into the best approximation of a thumbs-up that he can manage.

“Okay, um, don’t move,” Gus says. Got it, Shawn thinks. Don’t exactly have anywhere to go. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna get you out of there.”

This seems like a pretty good plan to Shawn, except for one thing. He shuts his eyes and prepares himself to speak again.

“911,” he whispers, and hopes that Gus can hear him.

“Oh. Right,” Gus says, and Shawn hears the sounds of him dialing, and then explaining that his best friend is buried under debris in an abandoned office building on the edge of town.

“They say it’ll be about twenty minutes,” Gus informs him. “You’re not buried very deep, so I’m gonna try and get you out before then, okay?”

Shawn gives him another thumbs-up, mildly surprised by Gus’...lack of panicking. Not that he’s complaining, because honestly he’s pretty close to panicking himself, and at least one of them needs to remain sane at all times.

He lies there and listens to the sounds of rubble moving and Gus making various noises of effort to indicate the very difficult work he is doing. All the while, though, he’s talking to Shawn about, talking how stupid this idea was in the first place, and how he could be at work earning money to pay for the new TV in the Psych office instead, and about a million other little things that Shawn would ordinarily groan at and find some way to change the subject.

Now, though, he’s content to listen to Gus and distract himself from the fact that he feels like he’s been run over by a truck carrying a mobile home and then had the mobile home dropped on top of him for good measure.

It doesn’t actually take that long for Gus to mostly unbury him. There’s still some rubble surrounding him, but apart from the giant concrete thing lying across his chest, he’s basically free. He gives Gus the best smile he can muster in his current situation and wheezes out, “hey.”

“Hey,” Gus replies, checking his watch. “Help should be here in about seven minutes, if that lady at 911 dispatch was telling the truth.”

Shawn nods as best as he can, then experimentally moves his freed arms to the concrete currently crushing his chest.

“Don’t do that,” Gus warns. “The 911 lady said it would be too heavy and that trying to move it by ourselves might hurt you worse.”

But it hurts, Shawn thinks, petulantly, and this must show on his face because Gus says, “don’t give me that look, Shawn. She said if that beam was gonna crush you, it would have already, so you just have to wait.”

He really doesn’t want to wait. Maybe this beam isn’t going to crush him to death, but it’s making it very difficult to breathe, which in turn is making it very difficult to stay calm, which is then making it harder to breathe -

He needs to relax. Maybe if he closes his eyes for a few seconds...yeah. That sounds nice. He lets his eyes slip closed and tries to take a calming breath that does approximately nothing. But not two seconds later, his eyes are snapping back open.

“‘Ow,” Shawn mutters, as loudly as he can, as Gus smacks him across the cheek with a surprisingly strong hand.

“Don’t you dare pass out on me, Shawn.”

“Won’t,” he promises, reluctantly keeping his eyes open. How much longer do I have to keep my eyes open for, exactly? he wonders.

“When’s...help?”

Gus anxiously checks the time, as though he hadn’t just anxiously checked the time like two seconds ago. “The lady said twenty minutes. It’s been fifteen.”

Five minutes...he can make it five more minutes. Right?

“Talk...to me.”

“I was talking to you, Shawn. Until you decided to almost pass out on me!”

Shawn slowly shakes his head. “Wasn’t gonna.”

Gus shakes his head in return, like he doesn’t believe it, which is fair. But he keeps talking anyway. Shawn wonders whether it’s even possible for Gus to run out of boring things to say to keep people awake.

True to the 911 lady’s word, exactly five minutes later, help arrives in the form of a firetruck and ambulance. The paramedics immediately get to work on Shawn. In other circumstances, he’d maybe try and fight them on the whole precautionary c-collar situation, but they also give him drugs and an oxygen mask, and both of those things feel absolutely wonderful, so he decides to shut up and let them do what they need to do - namely, free him from his concrete prison.

Even with the drugs in his system, it hurts, which is surprising considering they’re removing the thing that’s hurting him. But it hurts almost as bad as the initial collapse of the building on top of him had, and it hurts more than actually being pinned under it had. He screams for all of two seconds of intense pain, and then the weight is completely gone and the pain stops and he falls silent with an “oh” of pleased surprise.

The move onto a backboard and into the back of the ambulance hurts, too, but far less in comparison. Shawn makes it through both of those events with only minor wincing and whimpering, and soon enough they’re on the way to the hospital, and Gus is talking to Jules on the phone, and the only source of pain at all is the iron grip that Gus is keeping on his hand.

aaa thanks sm for reading! hope the characterization wasn’t too abysmal and i hope you enjoyed :) i plan to write plenty more psych whump in the future so if thats what you enjoy you’re in luck!!!

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump6 #buried #psych #shawn spencer #my writing #i say things #this was fun! its been a minute since ive written for a new fandom

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mostlymovieswithmax · 3 years

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Movies I watched in September

I skipped a month again. But not to worry. This is a wrap-up of all the movies I watched in the month of September (2021). I think I maintained a steady ratio throughout but perhaps there’s not as much on the list this time because I wanted to get on with other things, be that work-wise or just trying to get out to the beach as much as possible and make the most of the last dregs of summertime. I went swimming in the sea a lot! But I also got to catch the new James Wan movie, Malignant (twice!) as well as the new James Bond, No Time To Die. Not to mention a couple of classics! My hope again with this list is to introduce people to new movies that they may otherwise not have seen or perhaps have never have heard of. These short reviews are my own subjective opinions on each individual movie. I’m thinking maybe a more informal approach to movie criticism can help include others who are just passing through. So here is every film I watched from the 1st to the 30th of September.

Fanny and Alexander (1982) - 8/10

Coming from Ingmar Bergman, I was surprised to see just how warm this was. I’m a big fan of the Swedish director and while this isn’t my favourite from him (perhaps due to it needing a second watch, or the fact I watched it in three chunks because it’s about three hours long and I overestimated how much time I had in the day) it’s still an interesting departure from what I’ve come to expect from him. Fanny and Alexander is a dreamy Christmassy movie that presents an overarching theme of love, spending a large portion of its runtime just hanging out with this big family on Christmas and showing how close they are. I would love to watch this again at some point in December and see how my opinion shifts but for now, while it could meandre in places, I can’t deny how unique a movie it is.

Another Round (2021) - 10/10

I had seen Thomas Vinterberg’s latest film before this point but this was the first time I got to see it in a cinema. Luckily for me my local independent cinema was showing it one night and while they had a few technical hiccups with setting everything up, the movie itself was still fantastic. Following a handful of school teachers who experiment with whether they can maintain a certain level of blood alcohol throughout the day, Another Round demonstrates a sense of unease and sadness throughout an otherwise comedic tone. These emotions are balanced perfectly, boosting an already intriguing concept that examines our relationship with alcohol from every angle.

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021) - 4/10

Straight after Another Round, I made my way to the chain cinema to meet up with friends to see the new Marvel movie. At this point, having had my second dose of the Covid vaccine that morning, I was starting to feel the effects and I was not doing well. But I watched the movie anyway, all the while wanting to be in bed. Shang-Chi was massively underwhelming and I’d go as far as to say it was even incompetent. Truth be told, I like the Marvel Cinematic Universe but from the get-go I already wasn’t hyped for this movie and I was expecting it to be about mediocre but what I got was something a lot worse. I won’t rehash what I’ve already said on this film so if you want to hear me rant about it a bit then I would recommend checking out episode 47 of my podcast, The Sunday Movie Marathon.

Your Name. (2016) - 6/10

Ultimately this was a fun little romance movie but I can’t say I understand why people adore it, nor do I understand why it needed to be animated. For what it’s worth, I found it cute and entertaining but nothing much jumped out to me.

Phil Wang: Philly Philly Wang Wang (2021) - 7/10

I’m always stumped on what to say about stand-up shows. It was good! I enjoyed Phil Wang talking about different things in a funny way and it got some laughs out of me. Admittedly I’m writing this a couple of weeks after watching it but it’s certainly a decent way to spend an hour if you’re looking for something light and fun.

The Lego Batman Movie (2017) - 6/10

I remember seeing this in the cinema with two of my friends and the theatre wasn’t exactly packed but those that were there were either children or parents. But I like The Lego Batman Movie! Clearly this was made by fans of the character as it’s packed with a lot of details and references from old comic runs but as someone who has never read the comics or seen those older movies, it still managed to be entertaining and while I won’t say it’s quite as good as The Lego Movie, the animation is still top notch and the voice actors are certainly giving it their all, especially Will Arnett as the titular character. It’s just a bit of fun!

Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) - 10/10

A friend of mine told me to go to the screening of Terminator 2 at my local because they themselves weren’t able to attend. The first Terminator movie is a real gem and one of the most 80’s-type movies I’ve ever seen. I was excited to watch T2, remembering next to nothing about what I watched of it when I was a child. So it was just me in this screening, with one person in a row in front of me, and one other person behind me. If I had it my way, I would have been the only person there because this is honestly one of the best movies I’ve ever seen and it was very hard not to yell out every time something incredible happened, especially when it’s so action-packed and basically goes all out at every opportunity to deliver some of the most jaw-dropping effects or choreography. Truly there is never a dull moment and I was grinning like a lunatic the entire time. This film rocks!

Mirror (1975) - 7/10

Andrei Tarkovsky is one of my favourite directors and the new Criterion release of his film, Mirror, had been on my shelf for a while. My friend and fellow podcast co-host, Chris, was also interested in watching this movie so we decided we’d give it a watch and review it on the podcast. But this is such a weirdly structured film that the entire way through, neither of us knew what on earth was happening. What we got from the experience is reflected in the episode we made and I would love to watch this again at some point, hopefully with more context and a better understanding of what I’m in for. But in the meantime, you can hear the discussion on episode 46 of the podcast.

The Night House (2021) - 6/10

The Night House is David Bruckner’s follow-up to his previous movie, The Ritual and while I’ll say I prefer The Ritual, this is still a decent watch, just don’t go in expecting horror. More of my thoughts can be found in episode 46 of the podcast.

The Ritual (2017) - 7/10

After watching The Night House, I decided to go back to the director’s previous film, The Ritual and I got a lot more out of it this time around. Themes of guilt and grief permeate the movie and the result is this weird and unnerving film about a group of guys who go hiking in Sweden after the death of one of their friends and encounter dark forces beyond their comprehension. It can be drawn out at times and probably could have been boosted with a better script but there are so many interesting and strange ideas presented that culminate in a haunting third act that it’s worth watching just to see what on earth they’re being hunted by.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) - 10/10

Straight after recording an episode about our favourite movies on the podcast, I returned to one of my all-time favourites. Holy Grail is such a fantastically funny movie with so many memorable lines and moments that it’s become a staple in the comedy genre. Setting it in Arthurian England is a surefire way to make sure it stands the test of time, making use of the budget in a way that heightens the comedy, for example: not being able to get horses and so resorting to having a man banging two coconut halves together as they skip through the grassy terrain. It’s the writing that really takes centre stage here; the guys from Monty Python were/are geniuses. A couple more points were made on my podcast so please do listen to that to hear more: Episode 46 of The Sunday Movie Marathon

Malignant (2021) - 7/10

The new James Wan movie was bonkers! I saw this one twice in quick succession without hesitation. To find out why I love it so much, listen to episode 47 of the podcast.

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) - 8/10

We got a marathon of the first three Nightmare on Elm Street movies on the podcast so we watched them in quick succession within a day. This first movie is a true masterpiece of its time. For more insight, listen to episode 47 of the podcast.

A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2: Freddy’s Revenge (1985) - 2/10

Quite an embarrassing departure from the genius and fun of the original. Elm Street 2 is not only technically unfulfilling but a wholly unentertaining movie to boot. More thoughts in episode 47 of the podcast.

A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors (1987) - 3/10

While only a few hairs better than its predecessor, Elm Street 3 is still a mere shadow of the original. All in all, these second and third instalments in the franchise have put me off watching any of the others. More thoughts in episode 47 of the podcast.

Her (2013) - 10/10

Her is at once a beautiful love story between a man and an AI, and a scarily accurate look at how technology is expanding and moving forward. It uses warm colours and smooth camera work to create something that feels homely and safe, juxtaposing the often cold and dark feeling of science-fiction films to tell an intrinsically human story. What would it be like to go through this and what are the hurdles that need to be overcome? Her is a masterpiece of filmmaking and it left me emotionally exhausted in all the right ways.

Alien (1979) - 10/10

First time I’ve seen Alien in the cinema (as I was too busy not being born yet to see it on an initial release) and it was amazing! This is cosmic horror at its best. With all the eerie sound design, slow and deliberate camera movement, and outstanding effects, there’s no wonder as to why this is considered one of the greats and seeing it on the big screen was enthralling.

Aliens (1986) - 8/10

I had never seen Aliens before so the opportunity to see it for the first time in a cinema was one I could not pass up, especially since I was able to see it straight after the first. This is more of an action movie than the first one and as that, it was really something to see. While I don’t think it quite measures up to the original, James Cameron does bring a style to it that makes it something completely different while still feeling in line with its predecessor. A problem I’ve found as time goes on is that I don’t find myself thinking much about Aliens whatsoever and that’s probably down to its characters who generally I found quite weak. I’m already not big on standard action flicks and this is a clear cut above those but it does still fall victim to the trappings. That being said, I would in no way call this bad or even mediocre because it was a lot fun and being able to see it in the cinema is an experience I’m very grateful for.

Gunpowder Milkshake (2021) - 6/10

Gunpowder Milkshake is trying very hard to be John Wick and although it never really manages it, there is still fun to be had with its action (because really that’s all this movie has to offer). There’s a very creative scene in which Karen Gillan has to fight some goons in a hospital with a gun taped to one hand and a scalpel taped to the other, with the caveat being that her arms don’t work. Despite that and a good enough performance from Gillan, the rest is very goofy, with a villain about as intriguing as an advert for life insurance and a story that to say the least, leaves much to be desired.

I Lost My Body (2019) - 10/10

Another one for the podcast, I Lost My Body is a glorious cerebral animated piece that hits every nerve in my body. Listen to episode 48 for more.

Alice In Wonderland (1951) - 10/10

Perhaps the best early Disney movie in my humble opinion. Alice In Wonderland is complete insanity, doing things simply for the sake of it in a beguiling dreamlike take on Lewis Carroll’s classic book. Listen to episode 48 of The Sunday Movie Marathon for more.

WALL-E (2008) - 9/10

WALL-E is one of Pixar’s best. It is a cautionary tale of where the world is headed wrapped in a sweet story about going to the ends of the solar system in order to help those you love. I do however have one big problem with this movie and you can find out more in episode 48 of the podcast.

Killing Them Softly (2012) - 6/10

A lot about America’s economy at the time, Killing Them Softly goes about showing the lengths people will go to for money and yes it is generally solid with a fantastic speech by Brad Pitt to cap it off, but it cannot avoid meandering scenes of listless dialogue that neither engage me nor make me care about the characters it presents.

The Dirties (2013) - 6/10

Funny! The Dirties is a mockumentary about two guys making a movie about bullies in their school. While often it was generally chugging along and making me laugh, it tended to err on the side of plain as regards its presentation. A lot of scenes happen for the sake of it and in a movie that’s around an hour and twenty, it’s amazing I still managed to dip out in the latter half. More thoughts in episode 49 of the podcast.

Telstar: The Joe Meek Story (2009) - 3/10

Ah, I really hated this. I don’t even want to talk about it anymore. Just listen to episode 49 of the podcast to hear what I had to say.

Blade Runner 2049 (2017) - 10/10

This is my favourite movie! I got to talk about it on my podcast! Listen to episode 49 of The Sunday Movie Marathon to hear what I have to say!

No Time To Die (2021) - 8/10

Best Bond movie? Perhaps. I’ve not seen every Bond movie but of the ones I have seen (which does include all of Daniel Craig’s run), this is as good as it gets. Despite a near three hour runtime, No Time To Die felt as though it wasted very little. I’ve always complained that I could never follow the plot to these movies because often I simply didn’t care about it; for me it’s more about the action and seeing Daniel Craig be James Bond. No Time To Die does not escape some of the general tropes that often don’t leave me thinking I’ve watched something masterful but what I will say in its favour is that it’s fucking fun! Don’t expect to love it if you already dislike these movies because generally it stays in the same vein as the others before it, but for Bond fans it’s something totally enjoyable. Captivating cinematography, biting fight choreography and action set-pieces, a core struggle for James who actually goes through relatable hardships his time round, coping with being part of a family and trying to keep them safe.

I was happy to see a bit more attention paid to female characters this go round; in a franchise that often glamorizes Bond’s sexual promiscuity and ability to woo any woman he likes, it was much more refreshing to see that he often did need help from a lot of badass, well written female characters.

No Time To Die has been waiting to be released for a long time now and now it’s actually out, I’m pleased it’s not hot garbage. In fact, quite the opposite is true. The final swan song for Craig’s fifteen-year tenure as one of cinema’s most recognisable heroes outdoes all that came before it. Bravo.

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

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A STUDENT'S GUIDE TO GET STARTUP GROWTH

If you went out and hired 15 people before you even knew what you were building, you've created a broken company. It's an old one, as old as the web grew to a size where you didn't have to be a successful product company in the sense of art that would appeal to most humans, and perhaps others that would appeal to most humans, and you could tell he meant it. Among them was Frederick's of Hollywood got the most traffic. If you're a good hacker. We thought so when we started ours, and we asked several people who were said to know about business to run a startup are commonsense things people knew before there were business schools, or even universities. It might actually carry some weight. But when I think back to the painting over and over. Basic. It would cost something to run, and it might be interesting to look at the problem from the other end of the spectrum, where you can read the beginning of a story, but to absorb some prescribed body of material. If you make software to teach English to Chinese speakers, you'll be able to do everything these startups do. And you know, you'll find the animal test is easy to apply. And as you go down the food chain the VCs get rapidly dumber.

When everyone else is reading the latest John Grisham novel, there will always be a few people reading Jane Austen instead. The other cutoff, 38, has a lot more disagreeing going on, especially measured by the word. During the Bubble, full of prowling VCs looking for the next few days to work on small things that could grow into big things, you seem to have just humiliated them technologically. In theory, that could have meant someone else owned big chunks of time, if your business model seems spectacularly wrong, that will make most of them happier. I was considering starting another startup. Not spend it, that's ok. Thanks Paul We are having a bit of a hack. My message to potential customers was: you'd be stupid to use anyone else's software. I'm going to try to make it look fast. Indeed, one of the founders is an expert in some specific technical field, it can be to decide what you should have been making. What good is it? But I don't write to persuade the actual reader, someone who didn't use a certain programming language might go to a friend's house for dinner.

Refutation. So Don't be evil, and of all the things we could have done that we didn't count for much. The recording industry hated the idea and resisted it as long as you seem like you know what? There was a window of several years to get average case performance. Is more to setting up a separate place to hold the accumulator; it's just a field in an object instead of the head of the observer, not something that was a hard sell. Focusing on hitting a growth rate reduces the otherwise bewilderingly multifarious problem of starting a startup consists of. You think you can always write that book, or climb that mountain, or whatever we were, search could safely be allowed to wither and drop off, like an umbilical cord.

So approach this like an algorithm that gets the right answer to be constantly reminding yourself why you shouldn't wait. Overlooked problems are by definition problems that most people think don't matter. The Mythical Man-Month, and everything I've seen has tended to confirm what he said. It's the same principle as incremental development: start with a distinction that should be obvious but is often overlooked: not every newly founded company is a startup. As you accelerate, this drag increases, till eventually you reach a point where 100% of your energy is devoted to overcoming it and you can't get around this by hiring more people, because beyond a certain size new hires are actually a net lose. But as happened with Apple, by the time everyone else realized how important search was, Google was indistinguishable from a nonprofit. Once you experience the pain of missing your target one week it was the same for a lot of popular sites were loaded with obtrusive branding that made them want to buy us. An undergrad who gets something published feels like a star. And not just in obvious ways, like making them register, or subjecting them to annoying ads. And it's free, which means people actually read it. So I think people who are smart, but not design it. Though better than attacking the author, this is part of the conversation.

They expect to avoid that by raising more from investors. The average person looks at it and thinks: how amazingly skillful. If you can attract the best hackers to work for you, the way sites like Busmonster used Google Maps as a platform was at least not too constricting. 0 i return s 0 return bar Python users might legitimately ask why they can't just write def foo n: s n def bar i: s 0 i return s 0 return bar Python users might legitimately ask why they can't just write def foo n: lambda i: return n i To be fair, Perl also retains this distinction, but deals with it in typical Perl fashion by letting you omit returns. Same story in 2004. Silicon Valley has been pulling ahead of Boston since the 1970s. Compared to IBM they were like Robin Hood. Which meant we got to watch as they used our software, even though the risk is too. Henry Ford did it to the car makers that preceded him.

The most convincing form of disagreement. It just made me spend several minutes telling you how great they are. But when you import this criterion into decisions about technology, and we got Java applets. When you scan down the list of most popular web sites, the number of people who are bad at understanding. If you own rental property, but let's suppose there were management companies that could do it for you. When a decision causes you to develop software twenty times faster than you. The mildest seeming people, if they aren't median people, it's a sign you haven't yet figured out what you're doing, you can fix it yourself. Ad Hominem. Some languages are better than either of them?

I imagine them sneaking off to work on big things, you find that there are or aren't standards of taste. If you make people with money love you, you can understand why investors like them, and if you're 21, hiring only people younger rather limits your options. The story about Web 2. For example, knowing what to do when the teacher tells your elementary school class to add all the numbers from 1 to 100? 8x 5% 12. But it's possible to be part of a startup have to include business people? The reason it pays to put off even those errands is that real work needs two things errands don't: big chunks of our software. But many will want a copy of your business plan, if only fake ones like Willie Horton. Fortunately reporters liked us.

But in practice that never happens. If you want to help them. Code size is important, because the people I know are all procrastinators. Practically every successful startup, odds are you'll start one of those lucky people who know early on what they want to do. When you get an unexpected result like this, it was neither a success nor a failure; it was too late. Or more precisely, by Benjamin Graham's Mr. There's another thing all three components of Web 2. Would that kill spam? Now there's a new generation of sites, but they were worth it as market research. The combined code can be much shorter than if you had a graph in which the most impressive people I know are all procrastinators. His mind is absent from the everyday world because it's hard at work in another.

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the-cookie-of-doom · 4 years

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My latest fic idea:

This started out as an idea I knew I would never write, but then I realized I could cannibalize one of my quarantine fics, and it might happen...

First of all, Stiles is pushed out of the pack. I want it to take place during season 5, after he kills Donovan. Mitch helped Stiles cover it up; he’s a hunter, he knows Stiles did what he had to do to survive. After Allison died Chris couldn’t stay there anymore, but he didn’t want to leave the pack defenseless, so he called in Mitch. Someone who can make the hard choices and weather the consequences and keep an eye on the kids.

The pack is falling apart, and as the alpha Scott can feel them all pulling away (or rather, he’s pushing them away as they get more out of his control), and in turn he’s lashing out, agitated as he feels all his pack bonds so close to breaking, one after the other.

Finally it all comes to a head after Donovan. Tensions are high, both of them feel betrayed, and maybe they could have recovered from that argument if it was just about Donovan. But it isn’t. Scott’s resentment has been festering for a long time. It’s deeper than Stiles ever realized, and in that argument, Scott throws everything in Stiles’ face. Donovan, Allison, all the way back to him getting bitten in the first place. He lays all of that at Stiles’ feet, and it’s the final straw to break the camel’s back.

Stiles storms out and Mitch follows after him; he takes Stiles’ keys and drives him home because he was in no state to drive himself. On the way they don’t talk, until Stiles finally breaks down. He can’t do it, he can’t stay here. It’s toxic and Beacon Hills is breaking him down, slowly killing him. He can’t live here knowing Scott blames him for everything.

Stiles needs to get out. Mitch asks him where he wants to go, and Stiles says he doesn’t care; anywhere is better than Beacon Hills.

Mitch drops Stiles off at home, and he spends the next few days grieving the death of his oldest friendship, and the part of himself that died, that Scott just killed. He eventually manages to talk to his father about what happened, and about what he needs to do. Three days later he calls Mitch, saying he needs to get out of here. He wants Mitch to take him away. Just like before he says he doesn't care where they go, as long as it’s far away from here, and Mitch has just the place.

A good chunk of the fic would be comprised of a roadtrip; the farther they get away from Beacon Hills, the easier it is for Stiles to breathe. He didn’t even realize how bad things had gotten until he gets away. Where before he wanted to just get out, now he can slowly relax enough to enjoy the journey. What was going to be a 5-7 day trip easily turns into almost 2 weeks of traveling, stopping in tourist traps and sight-seeing. Stiles learns more about Mitch in that week and a half than he has in the past almost 2 years he’s been there. It’s nice.

Stiles is surprised when they wind up in a little old cottage/cabin in Virginia. Mitch didn’t tell him where their destination was and Stiles didn’t push, figuring it would be nice to have to good surprise for once, and he was right. It’s quaint and cute and belonged to Mitch’s grandparents; he used to spend his summers there as a kid, but hasn’t seen the place in years. Now seemed like a good time to return.

They have to get the place cleaned up and stocked with groceries to be inhabitable, but Stiles doesn’t mind the work. It only takes a few hours and it’s oddly domestic, and endearing to see Mitch in this new context, telling Stiles about fond memories of baking with his grandma or word working with his granddad.

They spend about a month in Virginia, and it’s the best Stiles has felt in years. And slowly, their friendships evolves to something more.

The thing Stiles appreciates about Mitch the most, is that Mitch actually respects him and his choices. Scott always tried to dictate his actions, wanted to be in control because he felt it was his right as the alpha, never mind that Stiles never submitted to him like that. Just another fissure in their crumbling relationship. But Mitch has always stood by Stiles, even after Donovan.

The first time they kiss Mitch doesn’t question Stiles or ask if he’s sure; Stiles knows himself and what he wants and Mitch isn’t going to make him second-guess himself, or prove himself. He trusts Stiles to know his limits and speak up if something gets too much. That more than anything is what makes Stiles start to fall in love.

#Cookie writes #stitch #stiles stilinski #mitch rapp #scott mccall #this is gonna be so sweet #Stiles is gonna live the cottage core dream we all fantasize about #they're going to make fresh lemonade from the lemon tree and go swimming in the lake and cuddle in front of the fire #Stiles is going to oggle Mitch chopping wood while shirtless bc he deserves Good Things

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bewaretheundead91 · 4 years

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A very Eventful Christmas Part 2: Wine and Tiramisu

Summary: You are on your way back to Washington D.C. to spend time with your family for Christmas. On your way you run into a man from your past.

Duncan Shepherd X Reader (Y/N)

A/N: Christmas is around the corner? I’m sorry, due to my job I tend to hear Christmas music earlier than most. So I’ve been inspired to start a Christmas series. Subject to be edited and changed.

Warnings: (none) a slow burn, inspired by cheesy Christmas rom com tropes...a lot of rom com tropes/clichés here...and plot.

Part 1

“Chicago to D.C. is ready for boarding,” A woman calls from over an intercom. “All heading to D.C. from Chicago may board the train now. The train will be departing in 30 minutes.”

After taking a glance up at the wide eye and smiling train attendant, you drop your eyes back down to the phone in hand, still angrily texting Erica, your cousin, about the free coffee you had taken from Duncan Shepherd. If only you were the girl you were 5 years ago, that made men cry when you had the chance. The girl that was brave and said what was on her mind. Fast forward to the present and your raging fire has transitioned into a timid candle flame. Chicago was too cold most days for a social life.

And he remembered my coffee order, you type out, misspelling the word remember a few times, out of typing too fast, my damn coffee order and he thought he could just talk to me. I was trying to hide from the guy and it was obvious. The audacity of it all, Erica responds ending with a eye rolling emoji, Did he say where he was traveling to? You look around your surroundings, there is no gray coat wearing man with soft wavy locks and a scruffy beard. You sigh. He didn’t say anything and of course I was not going to ask you text then shove your phone into the pocket of your coat. You stand up and walk to your train car. Your fingers grasp the ticket and you pull it out so that attendant can scan it.

“Good evening,” The smiley attendant greets. Her makeup is on point and her hair is perfect. “You’re seat is actually not too far from here, just a few rows down and on your left.”

“Thank you.” You reply stepping onto the train and instantly hit the heat on blast from inside of the cart.

You look down at your carry on bag to make sure it was still zipped and continue deeper into the train cart. Quickly you find your seat near a large window with a collapsable trey large enough to fit your computer. The seat looks comfortable enough for the multiple hour travel, being cushioned. You secretly hope that no one has the seat beside you. You sit down and make yourself comfortable. There was an urge to turn your phone off during the ride, but you couldn’t commit to that or the potential pile up of voice mails and missed calls from your editor or family.

“Estimated arrival time to Washington D.C. is…” You block out the rest of the dialogue and glance around the exterior of the train. People were still running to board the train, family and a cute couple walking hand and hand closely. You roll your eyes at the romantic scene before you. Young love around the holidays, good for you guys, I’m sure something will mess it all up, you thought to yourself and cross your arms over your chest, wow that was vile thought. I take it back, all of it.

Your mind wanders to what going back home would be like, your younger sister planning a wedding to be married to a young entrepreneur for a the latest electronic selling out off the shelves. Your mother being delighted to see the couple together and then nagging about how you have been single for years now since you left the D.C. area. That dreaded city, she would say you think to yourself, full of dreadful people, just like your late grandfather. Dreadful people you should even think about dating let along marrying. Washington D.C. has many eligible men for marriage.

The train had been making its way for a few hours and you start falling asleep with the ambiance of the train car along with the subtle hum of the train. Your face falls flat against the window and mashes against the glass, you were tired and finally you have a space to sleep. Your mind drifts off to the couple you earlier, than to a series of different romantic Christmas comedy movies where young people fall in love and then to the cheesy cookie cutter, over formulaic movies you also equally love that would marathoned on cable. The movies where most of the main characters fall in love by Christmas.

The thoughts transition and you find yourself sitting on a couch sipping hot cocoa wearing a matching flannel pajama set. A series of knocks come at the door near you along with soft singing voices. You get up and answer the door to a group of Christmas carolers singling the chorus of All I Want For Christmas is You. Feeling a cool breeze, you wrap arms around your body and listen to the carolers with am excited smile. The group of singers, break apart a low voice starts to sing along with them. Your eyes meet the bright blue eyes of Duncan Shepherd who was wearing a red sweater with a large fuzzy Christmas tree on it and a big red Santa hat. He looks up at you lovingly holding a poster with large letters that wrote out “To me you are beautiful”…he flips the poster to reveal another one, “Than all the diamonds I could buy, than anything I could ever buy”…he places the poster behind another,“You are priceless, and I love you”. The heart in your chest begins to pound and you feel your face blush.

“Excuse me, Miss,” You hear a voice over the the carolers and Duncan. The carolers do not stop. You look up at the ceiling of the room you were in and frown in confusion. “Miss, I’m sorry to bother you.”

A hand touches your shoulder and you jump in your seat, colliding with the collapsable table. Before you can prevent yourself, you fall back and hit the window, face first clumsily. Finally your eyes open to see a train attendant holding a trey with a glass of red wine.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” She beams. It was the attendant from earlier. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head hard?”

“I’m fine, but I didn’t order that,” You say sitting up in the seat. You rake your fingers through your hair smoothing the strands out and pat your cheek that made contact with the window. You look over to the glass and see a faint makeup print. “I’m sorry you have the wrong person.”

“The gentlemen in the gray coat sent it over,” She says with a smile. “He thought you might enjoy a nice red blend while you look out the window. He’s so charming.”

“Excuse me what?” You ask tilting your head in confusion.

“The gentlemen a few rows down.” She points out down the isle.

You sit up a bit more and straighten your back to gain height. You look down the isle to see Duncan Shepherd speaking to another train attendant who was handing him a glass full of a brown liquid. A frown scrunches across your face and you slowly slump back down in your seat, fixing your coat.

“Whiskey,” You snarl, looking up at the ceiling. “I can’t take this.”

“You would prefer whiskey?” The attendant asks.

“No,” You say wide eye tilting your head even more. “Just please take this back, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I don’t take drinks from strange men…I mean strangers.”

“But he made it clear that you two knew each other.” She nods.

“Miss,” You look at the name tag on her blue blazer. “Ms. Jessica, he might think he knows me, but I don’t know him. So please just take this back or give it to him. Or how about have a glass of wine on him.”

“Oh,” She nods. “I see.”

“No,” You shake your head. “Whatever you are thinking…he’s an acquaintance and I’m not really in the mood.”

The attendant walks away with the glass of wine and you peek behind the seat in front of you to witness his reaction. The attendant, Jessica, approaches Duncan and shows him the trey with the glass of wine. Duncan was resting his head on his hand casually staring down at his glass of whiskey.

“Mr. Shepherd,” Jessica’s voice changes, it goes lower in pitch, like she is attempting to be seductive. You scrunch your nose. “She does not want the drink, sir.”

“Oh really?” He posture changes and he turns his head to the side glancing at the seat beside him. His wavy hair bounces and you mash your lips together tightly. “Y/N refusing a red blend?”

“Yes, sir,” Jessica responds with a disappointed look.

Duncan shifts his body so he can turn towards your direction. He quickly turns his head and makes eye contact with you. You duck down behind the seat in front you of you embarrassed, feeling your cheeks burning.

Please don’t come over here, you think to yourself, please do not for the love of God come over here.

“Do you have any desserts?” You over hear him ask Jessica. “If I’m going to drink this wine I need something sweet to eat with it.”

“Would you like a menu?” She asks.

“Is tiramisu available?” He asks.

“I believe it is, sir.”

You pull out your phone and send Erica another text, he just tried to send me a drink on the train. He’s on the train with me.

Jessica shortly walks back down toward your direction, this time she has a trey with the glass of wine and piece of tiramisu. Jessica pulls out your trey and places the drink and dessert in front of you.

“Mr. Shepherd was adamant that you enjoy these treats on behalf of himself,” Jessica says then glares at you. “Just take the damn drink and dessert so I can go back to what I’m supposed to be doing, please. I’ve got three cars on this train that I need to check up on.”

“Just leave it then.” You say with a sympathetic look.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Jessica says. “Try to enjoy them. They are expensive.”

“Of course they are.”

Before you sat a glass of wine from Duncan, another one of your favorites, and a big chunk of tiramisu, also another one of your favorites. The idea of Duncan Shepherd remembering those tiny details about you makes you annoyed. You groan to yourself and an idea pops into your head. To deliver the items back to Duncan yourself and walk away.

You unzip your carry on bag and pull out a compact to check your appearance. Other than your eyes looking tired and your mascara minimal smeared beneath your eyes, you look good for a long train ride. Your hair to your atonement was only mildly messy and starting to look gross. You close the compact and pull out you minty lip balm and coat your lips generously, then grab the drink and plate. Boldly you walk down the isle and approach Duncan’s seat. His head perks up, his piercing eyes meet yours, and a warm smile appears across his full lips. Heat rises up from your chest and to you cheeks.

“Please stop all of this,” You shout, practically throwing the wine and dessert onto his collapsible table. “I know that you think spending money is a personality trait, but it isn’t. If it is, it’s not a great one.”

“Y/N,” He says looking hurt and rubs the tips of his fingers across his lips. You quickly make your way down the isle towards you seat. You hear the squeaking of a chair and boots meet the floor of the train car behind you. A firm hand grabs your bicep. “Is it so wrong that I want to treat an old friend to something sweet?”

“Please, don’t touch me.” You say trying not to gain any attention. Duncan takes a step closer and towers over you. His eyes looking just as tired as yours, sheepish, and looking a bit more scruffier than usual once you get a better look at him. But you admit to yourself that he is still the attractive man that has made many women and men swoon.

“I just thought two of your favorite things could make the trip a bit more comfortable. I did not mean to offend.” His voice was soft, something different from earlier. You look down at his large hand still laced around your arm. He drops it. “Sorry.”

“I’m not offended,” You say taking deep breath. “I’m confused and annoyed. I didn’t expect you to be on this train, but out of course you expected me to be here.”

“I only assumed you were going back to D.C. because of the holidays, where did you assume I’d be off traveling to? Of course I’d want to spend the holidays back at home with my mother.”

“I just didn’t expect you to truly be on a train.” You say licking your lips. You watch as his eye stare down at your mouth.

“We are on a long train ride with nothing to do, perhaps we could talk.” He suggests.

“I was honestly hoping to sleep and relax before having to see my family.” You close your eyes and shake your head. “And I can’t be seen with you. Actually you can’t be seen with me. I don’t want to be affiliated with you.”

“I understand, but tell me,” He begins. “Who’s going to notice? Especially on this train.”

“That’s why I love Chicago, no one really knows me and I want to keep it like that. That is one reason I decided to take a train as well.”

“Is that true?” He laughs. “Do you really not enjoy being the center of attention?”

“Typical Shepherd.” You roll your eyes.

“But also who didn’t enjoy watching you,” He smirks. “You knew what you were doing.”

“You were watching a lot of people.” You say.

“Maybe I was,” He says raising his brows. “But there was one I had a focus on.”

At that moment the train starts to buckle on the tracks, making the individual cars move bumpily around the tracks. Suddenly you lose balance and fall forward colliding with the tall man before you and arms wrap around your body in attempt to soften the impact. Your hands meet the rough fabric of his coat, touching his chest, and you land directly on top of him. A grunt escapes his mouth and you feel his hot breath on your lips. You open your eyes to see your lips mere inches from each other and forehead mere centimeters. His eyes bolt open wide and his lips slightly part. There was whiskey on his breath. His hands slide up your back and you shiver.

“Sorry,” You say attempting to get up, but you fall between his legs in the process and chest meets his harshly. “I’m really sorry, this train, the tracks…”

“Can be bumpy, traveling across the country. It’s okay, are you okay?” He asks sounding genuinely concerned. He sits up onto his backside and runs his finger through his now wild hair. “You didn’t hit your arms or twist an ankle did you?”

“I’m fine,” You say finally getting to your feet. The heat flares in your cheeks again. “I’m the one that fell on you and your arms secured me in place.”

“You’re right,” He laughs. The train car shifts again and you fall forward against Duncan’s chest again. He wraps his arms around you holding you in place. You gaze up at him and shake your head. Honestly the view was not bad from there. Stop it, you internally scold at yourself. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“I was on my way to my seat already.” You say pushing him away. He laughs. You adjust you coat.

You walk back to you seat and sit down. To your surprise Duncan did not follow you. He was certainly a charmer for the kind of man that he was.

#duncan shepherd #duncan sheperd x reader

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hollowworldentertainment · 4 years

Text

Forging More than a Sword

Anodyne stormed his way through the remain of Slag, clearing a path through the remains as he quickly made his way to Plo’s shop. Running through the door he shouted with desperation.

“The land lord of Slag, is he powerful?”

Plo and Appretend turned as they were both hunch over the furnace. Plo gestured to Appretend and she quickly scurried over to Anodyne while they Plo continued.

“What did you say? Please be quick Plo will need me soon.”

“The land lord, the induvial to whom you pay rent to, are they powerful.”

“What do you think, they own territory in the Eternaverse, they are incredibly powerful. We are the latest project he has had, he has many more projects at much further stages of progression.”

Anodyne started to sweat.

“We need to leave, we need to leave right the hell now.”

Appretend ran over to Plo, they both discussed for a short while then Appretend returned.

“We can’t, we have gone too far with the process, you will lose your souls you have gathered if you leave now.”

Anodyne’s mind seized as he was posed with a conundrum that pushed his wants to the limit. Apprentend returned to Plo as they continued the process. Anodyne started to shake as he stood in the door way.

“I’m fucked, I’m actually fucked. If I leave I lose my progress but keep my life. If I stay I may get a sword in my hand, or one in my heart.”

Anodyne started to pace back forth as his mind ran in circles. His movements stopped as he turned to see a very mad looking individual standing just outside with a couple of familiar faces from the conflict standing behind him.

“Hey there friend, I got all dressed up for this destroyer of worlds. But before me I see a lowly god barely able to explore the Eternaverse with any form of precision. At least I will look good as I slaughter you.”

The gods armour shone as the light from a nearby sun illuminated it. In hand a vast spear with barbs and lightning arcing around it, crackling as it went. Anodyne’s eyes widened before he raised his hands above his head and clapped. A small bubble appeared around the store and quickly vanished, taking the store and a chunk of Slag with it.

The land lord stood mildly amused.

“Hmm, never seen someone so weak muster the energy to teleport with so much external matter before.”

One of the two scared individuals behind him spoke out quietly.

“Are you going after him? He destroyed everything.”

The land lord looked down and grinned.

“He destroyed trash, this asteroid was an embarrassment to my accomplishments. It is annoying he took the best of this asteroid, but he did cull the weak. I could follow him, but I see no point in killing someone so low.”

The land lord watched as the energy of Anodyne’s ability slowly faded from sight.

“And… now I cannot follow him. Besides, it was your job to ensure you stayed safe, I can’t be expected to baby sit all the time. I am a busy man. You survived, congratulations, you are the only two shops on Slag. Now excise me while I go find some more crafters to occupy this space.”

The same well carved door that Anodyne summoned to find Slag appeared before the Land lord and he wandered through. The two weak gods looked at each other and one after another they disappeared from Slag, leaving it to be a just another ruined rock floating through space.

Anodyne stood with his breath falling heavy, hands still above his at their final positions.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Safe.”

Anodyne slumped to the ground and let out a sigh.

“He did not follow, he could not be bothered. We are safe.”

Plo looked out the door and then back to her work, after a second she realised what she was looking at and dropped what she was doing. She walked to the door and stared out to the new area of space she had just been transported to.

“Where are we?” She said as Appretend struggled to maintain the soul forge while Plo left to enquire to their new location.

“We are safe, they did not follow. Now you can finish my sword in this new space.”

“But where are we Anodyne, where did you take us?”

“You can know that once I get my sword. Now hurry up. Your apprentice is struggling.”

Plo turned and quickly rushed to take over once again. Anodyne, feeling safe sunk into his sitting position and closed his eyes. Before he realised it he was fast asleep and the other two were left to continue the forge un interrupted.

Towards the end of the process where concentration was not needed they both relaxed and started to talk.

“I don’t know if you noticed Appretend, but we have moved. Anodyne has taken us somewhere new.”

“I did, when you ran off I looked out the door. Does it matter, was this not part of your plan?”

“I mean not really, I assumed we would stay on Slag getting other work. How much work can one god give us? Even if he does supply us with work how much can he offer us?”

“He ran from our land lord, and he is extremely powerful. So at a minimum he is good at escaping stronger foes. Which means he can help us avoid dangers. Not money, but good value.”

“But only if he is with us, I was thinking we could leave his weapon here and then make our way back to slag.”

As they finished their conversation and the final touches on the sword Anodyne woke up and rushed over.

“It is done, I have a sword forged from the souls of deities. I am one step closer to getting my world back. Now for your payment, do you have harvesting tools?”

Yes, no good forge can run without them.”

Anodyne focused and clapped, shifting the house forge to a new location.

“I found this universe a while ago, you can have free reign to harvest what you need.”

The two forgers wandered out of their home to be surrounded by stone. Laying before them was the liquid stone that provided both sun and moonlight. The very same material that was used in their forge.

“This universe is just air bubbles surrounded by matter of diverse types. Instead of standard suns they have these, so you should have all you could want to harvest here.”

“I guess he does have a lot to offer us ae Plo, because this is more valuable than anything we have been paid.”

“Feel free to hang out here and visit me whenever you need anything, or have anything you can help me with my goal.”

Plo walked up to Anodyne to confront him face to face.

“What do you need this all for? What are you investing all your effort into?”

“A world I named Hollow. It is my world and another deity has taken it. I want it back, I am not going to stop till have killed the usurper and claimed my world again.”

“You are doing this over a planet? You know you can just create another, why spend so much effort on a world that is impossible to reach. You can make a whole multiverse where you could make as many worlds as you want, yet you are spending all your efforts on this one?”

“Not anymore, not really. The universe I originally took you to was a new one, I am going to build my presence on as many worlds as I can and then I shall return to my first and claim it back.”

“You are insane, no one cares that much about a single world, but if you can continue to show us to places like this, with rare resources. I don’t care what you do, as long as we get to forge. I assume we find you at your new universe?”

“Yes, I am going to work on that for a while, but I have to get back to Hollow before too long. There is an occurrence that only happens once a year, and I cannot miss it. So work hard and help me claim my world back, or I will hunt you down and burn all that you love.”

Plo turned to Appretend as she was examining the fluid rock sun.

“I will do whatever it takes, to be honest this is more advantageous to us than it is a hindrance. But if you think you can get to her without having to fight me think again.”

Anodyne smirked and started to fade.

“It was a fact I was counting on, now get back to work.”

Anodyne faded fully from sight and left the other two to their work. As he appeared in his new universe he found Sylum waiting for him.

“So finally made a second universe ae?”

“Yup, trying something new with this one. But this is just the first of many. I just need more praise to conquer the shit of a deity that has claimed my world.”

“So is this Hollow two?”

“No, my worlds are very different. This does not deserve the name of Hollow. It is close, but will never be what I first created. Nothing ever will be.”

“So what do you call this new world?”

“Dolor, and it is just one of many.”

To anyone who likes my stories, you can find the full catalog on my website, additionally you can find me on a variety of other social media.

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#writeblr #writing #writer #hollowworldentertainment #forgingmorethanasword #chapter54 #horror #short stories #horror stories #short horror stories #horror writing #scifi #scifi writing #scifi stories #fantasy #fantasy writing #fantasy stories #dark

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queen-scribbles · 6 years

Text

Where I Want to Be

@pillarspromptsweekly #47: Roll for It. I got Edér, a farm, and exhaustion, so obviously I used it as an excuse to write established relationship Ederity. :D lbr I was gonna write Ederity anyway, this just made it easier

The sun was just starting to sink as Edér finally reached Charity’s house, and he couldn’t help but wince. He’d meant to get here by mid-afternoon at the latest, help her with clearing and planting a couple of her gardens. But the mayor stuff today had been just one thing after another, and before he knew it, it was early evening as he waved farewell to the last of the villagers who’d wanted to talk to him.

It wasn’t so much worry over Charity’s reaction--she’d repeatedly made it clear she didn’t want him skimping on his mayoral duties to spend time with her. That was his job, and during its set portion of the day, it needed to come first. But Edér had been looking forward to spending most of the day with her, and losing out on that because Gjyra wanted to complain about Soren’s out of control mulberry bushes(again) was more than a little disappointing. He was here now, however, and there were still a few hours left in the day. It was something.

From what he could see as he made his way to the door, Charity had gotten a lot done. It didn’t surprise him; she was one of the hardest workers he knew. He knocked on the door, frowned slightly when there was no response, and tried again. “Charity?”

Still nothing. Knowing she left the door unlocked whenever she was home, Edér turned the knob. It opened without resistance and he shook his head as he stepped inside. I gotta talk to her about that... “Chari-” Oh.

His worried frown turned to a fond smile when he saw why Charity hadn’t answered the door. She was asleep on the sofa. It clearly wasn’t something planned, judging by the mug of tea resting precariously on her knee and tipping ever-closer to disaster. Biting back a chuckle, Edér crossed the room in two swift strides and deftly rescued the mug from her loose grip. Charity barely stirred as he took it, and he couldn’t resist brushing a kiss against her forehead.

It looked like she’d sat down with her tea to wait wait for him and nodded off. Wasn’t hard to figure out why, either; Edér could see the mud caked on her boots and dirt and grass stains that streaked her clothes. Charity had worked hard all day and was beat. ‘Course, the warm, snuggly calico curled up in her lap probably hadn’t helped her stay awake, either. Sparrow mewed at him and Edér smiled as he reached to pet her.

Judging by how warm the tea was, Charity hadn’t drifted off that long ago, which meant se’d likely be out for a while. After paying due attention to Sparrow, Edér straightened and carried Charity’s boots over to the entry vestibule. He pulled his off, too, so he could move quieter, and then grabbed one of the extra blankets from her spare room.

Sparrow caught on to what he was doing, and moved long enough for him to drape the lightweight blanket over Charity before settling back into her spot. Charity shifted as the cat got comfortable, mumbling in her sleep and flinging one arm up next to her head.

Edér smiled affectionately and watched her sleep for a minute. You’re so blazin’ cute. He rolled his eyes. An’ I’m so blazin’ smitten. He may have been too late to help with the gardens, but there was something he could do to help, something he was indisputably better at than she was.

Humming a nonsense tune under his breath, Edér headed for the kitchen

***

For a minute as she slid toward wakefulness, Charity thought she was still dreaming. What other explanation was there for the positively divine aroma filling the air? But then the low clatter of someone trying to cook quietly reached her and she remembered.

Edér was coming over. With that thought, she shot awake. They’d already missed a good chunk of the day, who knew how much more had potentially wasted because she couldn’t keep her eyes open for five damn minutes.

Sur enough, as she rubbed sleep from her eyes and stretched, she could see Edér in her kitchen. His back was to her, sleeves rolled up, as he worked on whatever he was cooking. Occasionally he would turn and murmur something with a smile to Sparrow, who was perched on the pass-through between kitchen and dining room, tail twitching around her paws.

Charity smiled lazily as she watched. My cat likes you almost as much as I do. She yawned and went to brush hair back from her face. That was when she noticed her bun had loosened and migrated downwards, the remaining pathetic knot hanging against the nape of her neck. She was still debating whether to fix it when Edér turned and saw she was awake. Gods, she wished she could bottle that smile and use it to brighten rainy days.

“Good timin’ sleepyhead,” Edér winked. He grabbed a rag and swung the bubbling stewpot away from the fire. “Just finished cookin’.”

“Whatever it is smells delicious,” Charity said, pushing aside the blanket. Her hair started to slide forward when she moved to sit upright, and she huffed softly in exasperation as she made up her mind and tugged loose the wrecked bun. “And I’m starving.”

Edér chuckled. “Figured that would be the case. Looks like you worked hard.”

Charity nodded as she gathered her hair in a loose, low ponytail. “Been fightin’ weeds an’ tree roots all by my lonesome all day.”

He shot her a sheepish look. “Sorry. I meant to come help, but-”

She shook her head. “Not what I was insinuatin’, sweetheart. Mayor stuff comes first. I’m just tired, ‘cause there were dozen of weeds but only one me.”

“Looks like y’ still won, though,” Edér said, grinning, as he ladled out two bowl of stew and joined her on the couch.

Charity smirked. “That I did.” She kissed him on the cheek as she accepted the bowl of stew. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, darlin’“ He obligingly shifted a bit further away when Sparrow hopped up between them. “I think we have a chaperone.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nah, I just have a beggar for a cat.” She scooped Sparrow up with her free hand, scooched closer to Edér, and deposited the calico on the arm of the couch. “There.”

Sparrow let out a decidedly grumpy mroawww and jumped up to stalk along the back of the couch.

“So. My day was exhausting, how was yours?” Charity asked as she blew on her food to cool it.

“Also exhaustin’, just for different reasons,” Edér chuckled. “There are time I swear the people in this village make up problems if they ain’t got any sometimes.”

“Well, I mean, I’d make up excuses t’ come talk to you,” she said with a wink.

“Yeah, but we’re courtin’, that’s different. ‘sides, you don’t hafta make stuff up to spend time with me.”

“I know. Just sayin’ I understand why someone would make something up for a chance to talk t’ you.” She grinned mischievously, which turned into a quiet groan of pleasure as she took her first bite. “Mmm, ‘course, none of ‘em are ever gonna see you again, on account of me lockin’ you up here to cook for me forever. Gods, this is good.”

Edér laughed. “Glad you approve. I did what I could spur of the moment.”

“If this is what you can pull off spur of the moment, no wonder Tavi was grumpy at you for holdin’ out on her.” Whatever he’d put in it reminded her of her mother’s stew, just a little. Something in the seasonings. Or maybe I’m just still tired...

“Well, thank you,” Edér said with a smile. “But it’s more a compliment to how well your kitchen’s stocked than my cookin’ skills.” He winked. “Not that I’m opposed to takin’ a compliment from a pretty gal when she offers.”

Charity blushed so hard at that she forgot to check her next bite had cooled and burned the roof of her mouth. She grimaced but swallowed it anyway, groping for her long-cooled tea to wash it down. “And thank you right back for that,” she finally managed.

“Y’ alright?” He raised an eyebrow in concern.

She nooded. “Hotter’n I expected. I’ll just have to be more careful’s all.”

“Mm.” Twinkle in his eye, Edér leaned forward and kissed the corner of her mouth.

It was Charity’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What was that for?”

“Kissin’ it better,” he said matter of factly. “Why, wrong spot?”

“Close enough.” She grinned as she scooped up another bite, careful to blow on this one enough before eating it. “So, anything from your day we can talk about, or is it all private? ‘Cause in that case we can talk about my day.”

“I wanna hear about your day anyway,” Edér informed her around a mouthful of stew. “But there are actually a couple things I can share...”

***

They spent the next hour or so talking and laughing as they ate, occasionally pausing to pet Sparrow when she got tired of being ignored and made a fuss. Finally, though, after two helpings each and several shared stories, Edér collected their bowls and carried them into the kitchen. He waved off Charity’s offers to help and protests that he shouldn’t do all the work, it was her kitchen.

“I’m the one who cooked, so it’s my mess an’ only fair I clean up,” he argued. “You stay right there.”

“Well, I’m not gonna argue when a handsome fella tells me to relax,” Charity winked, scratching under Sparrow’s chin when the cat settled in her lap again.

Edér laughed and hurried through cleaning up so he could rejoin her on the sofa. “Now that that’s out of the way...” He tugged her closer. “C’mere.”

“You might not wanna do that,” Charity said with a wry laugh, half-heartedly resisting him. “I’m still pretty beat, so if you get me too comfortable, I will fall asleep.”

“I can think of worse places to be trapped,” Edér countered, grinning. “I’ll risk it.”

“Alright, hope you don’t have anything mayor-y and important first thing in the morning,” she giggled as she relented and let him pull her close.

“Not a blazin’ one,” he promised, kissing her temple as they got settled.

“Well, then...” Charity reached for the blanket that had fallen on the floor. She dropped it on the far end of the couch, barely covering their feet, and winked. “Just in case.”

It proved to be a good precaution. She started drifting off again within five minutes of them getting settled.

Edér chuckled as he felt her relax, laying heavier on top of him, and kissed the top of her head. “Night, Char.”

Charity mumbled something unintelligible and snuggled further in. Just as she’d warned, he was trapped now. Edér smiled to himself and rubbed her back as he felt his own weariness finally catch him. No place I’d rather be...

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #eder teylecg #charity #ederity #eothasian idiots #and i got a hell of an idea for how to let tavi find out :3 #it's gonna be GREAT

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tinyfierce · 6 years

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What about an evfra/ryder sickfic? The one who gets cared for is up to you haha

[Prompts from thispost. Still open!]

“Urgh.”

Evfra turned as the human on his sofastirred, the sound coming from her mouth unsurprising considering thecircumstances.

“Pathfinder,” he called dryly. “Youlive.”

She frowned, but made no motion to situp. “Where am I?”

“You are currently in the ResistanceHeadquarters, Pathfinder.” The voice of her AI hummed out of hercommunicator, a courtesy Evfra assumed was for his sake. “Themedicine you received rendered you unconscious for the past twohours.”

“Medicine.” She squinted at theceiling for a moment, and the Angara watched as the memory hit her.“Oh f- the fruit.”

Heturned back to his work, scrolling through the latest intel onHavarl. “Your doctor called. Said that you should sleep it off. Shedidn’t sound pleased.” Ryder grumbled something unintelligible tohis translator in response. “Maarva fruit is grown here, for ourrace. What possessed you to do something so idiotic as to eat it?”

“It was offered to me,” shemumbled. “I didn’t want to seem rude. Bad diplomacy.”

Evfra snorted. “It’s worse‘diplomacy’ for the Angara if the human pathfinder dies on ourhomeworld.”

“Yeah,that’s fair.” After a moment, she continued. “Why am I here,though? Why you?”

It was the same question Evfra hadbeen asking himself since she’d been deposited in his office.

“Our healers are busy,” he informedher, “and you’re not sick, just stupid.” A message beeped on hisscreen. “Your abilities make you too dangerous to be left withanyone unarmed, and here I can continue to work, if you cooperate.Also, Jaal would tear me apartif I let anything happen to you. Satisfied?”

“Roger.”His translator hadsince learned that the name was also a call sign, a way to say‘understood,’ and no sooner had he returned his full attention to themessage than his peripheral vision caught Ryder attempting to adjustposition and consequently sliding half onto the floor.

Cursing, Evfra crossed the room anddropped his screen on the table, freeing both hands to pull her legsback onto the cushions. “For my sake and yours, stay still,”he commanded, squatting by her side. “If you fall onto the flooragain, I’ll leave you there and take my chances with Jaal.”

Shesmiled drowsily, and before he could react, she reached for him. Herfingers, soft and pliable and ungloved, found the edge of his largestscar and traced it down the length of his face. He stiffened; she hadcaught him off-guard, even in her weakened state.

“Howdid you get these,” she murmured, eyes following the path of herfingertips.

Evfrarumbled a low discomfort in his throat. He wasn’t ashamed of hisscars – no freedom fighter should be – but the stealth of hermovement and the warmth of her touch was unsettling in a way hecouldn’t quite place.

“Istouching another race’s face and asking them personal questions partof your ‘diplomacy,'” he snapped, and Ryder’s datapad beeped tolife behind him.

“Pathfinder,”it called. “Until the effects of the foreign substance have leftyour system, your cognitive and motor capacities may be diminished.Please exercise caution.”

If hedidn’t know better, Evfra would have thought that the thing wassubtly pleading with her to shut up.

“Listento your AI,” he said. “Talk to it instead of me.”

Sheignored him. “How long, SAM?”

“Giventhe amount, my estimate places your complete recovery between threeto four hours.”

Meaning,Evfra realized as Ryder let out a frustrated sigh, that he would bestuck with a lethal fighter with little control of her mouth or limbsuntil then. With a frown, he picked up his screen and moved to theother end of the sofa.

“Move,”he issued, and Ryder obligingly drew back her feet enough for him tosit. If he was going to get any work done, he would have to have herwithin arm’s reach in case she decided to move again.

A fewminutes of blessed silence passed, and he managed to get throughthree more pieces of correspondence uninterrupted before Ryder openedher mouth again.

“Hey, Evfra?”

“What,” he answered, not lookingup.

“Do you like rough sex?”

He started, and the screen he’d beenholding dropped into his lap.

“What?”

“Likechoking,” she explained casually, “or biting, probably flat-outsparring -”“No, why are you asking methis?”“I don’t know,you just seem the type.”

Hegroaned, leaning forward and pressing his face into his hands.

“Goback to the scar question,” he muttered. “I prefer that.”

Hefelt her feet press against his thigh as she shifted, and heinstinctively reached out the closest arm to steady her against thecushions’ edge.

“Wasit Kett?”

“No,”he answered. “Roekaar.” He draped his arms over his knees,staring absently at the far wall as the memory resurfaced. “It wasjust after Akksul had struck off, and as soon as he had the numbers,he wanted to make a show of power. Rigged a Resistance supply dropwith explosives. Jaal and I were scouts at the time, assigned to thepickup. By the time I saw the fuse, it was too late.” Sympatheticburns heated the old injury, though he made no show of pain. “Managedto pull him out of the way, but caught a chunk of shrapnel to theface. Even though we’re both soldiers and I kept my eye, Jaalalways blamed himself.”

“Becauseyou saved him,” Ryder said, and Evfra inclined his head.

“Yes.”

Hegroaned inwardly as he felt the cushions lift beside him and he knewshe was trying to sit up. “I thought I told you to sit still.”

“Want to see mine,” she offered asshe reached for the hem of her shirt.

“No.”But it was too late –the shirt was off, and he was greeted with a wide expanse of baremidsection. The colorful language he’d been about to loose in herdirection disappeared when he saw what she’d intended to display.What looked like regular, even hatchmarks of raised skin covered theentire right side of her torso from her waist upwards. It disappearedunder the fabric of the undergarment she wore across her chest, andwas gone where it ended.

“Emergency mesh,” she said. “Fromwhen I took a hit for Jaal on Eos and the impact knocked me off acliff. Whole side of my chest basically collapsed. I ran onadrenaline and SAM’s help until we got back to transport and theycould slap this on me.”

As she spoke, his gaze traveled overthe damaged skin. Humans were building a reputation for resilience;the damage must have been severe. And from the way Jaal spoke of hisadmiration for the Pathfinder, Evfra could only imagine his reactionto knowing the extent of her sacrifice.

“I assume Jaal badgered you intorecovery,” he said, and Ryder shrugged.

“He doesn’t know how bad it was,”she said. “And he hasn’t seen this. It might heal up, it might not.If it doesn’t, I’ll tell him if he asks. He… takes everythingpretty hard, as you probably know.”

Evfra murmured his assent, intrigued bythe implication of her words. That Jaal hadn’t seen her undressedmeant that he hadn’t yet tried to bed the human. His own intel wasnever wrong, but something was clearly hindering his comrade’sadvances. Interesting.

“Why did you ask?” He turned toface her, draping one arm over the back of the sofa. “You’refighting a war. You’ve seen worse.”

She stretched, and the way hermusculature moved beneath her undergarments caught his eye. “Athought I had once. I wondered if someone could feel them when theykissed you.”

Nofilter, he tried toremind himself as instinct kicked words into his mouth.

“Irrelevant.And what does that imply about yours, when someone puts their mouthon your -”He cut himself off, cursing under his breath. No,he was stopping that there. He could only hope that the Pathfinderwas too out of it to notice the innuendo. It had been such a longtime - his flirting was clumsy, if this could be called that.Not that he’d ever really been good at it.

“Put your shirt back on,” he toldher. “No. I’m uncomfortable and I’m warm.”“Thisis my office.”“And I’m the human Pathfinder, so Ihave diplomatic immunity.”

He frowned, trying to make sense ofthat last part. “I - am I supposed to argue with nonsense?”

She snickered and leaned back againstthe armrest, leaning her head against the back of the sofa to smileat him. “That’s my favorite part of debriefing with you, thearguing.”“You’re bizarre.”

Her smile only widened, and Evfra sethis jaw against how disarming it was.

“Might be hard to believe, but Igenuinely like you.” She dug her toes under his thigh, settling herfeet as her eyes began to close. “We should spend time togetherwhen we’re not fighting for our lives.”

He snorted, but said nothing inresponse. When her breathing evened and he was confident that she wasasleep, he reached for his screen but remained in place beside her.

He wondered if all humans were thisridiculous.

#prompts #drabbles #evfra x ryder #evfra de tershaav #evfra #fem!ryder #jaal x ryder #jaal ama darav

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ruthoakenshield · 4 years

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Gary & His Neighbor

“Dammit!” You cussed as you dropped the mail off the top of the pile of stuff in your arms. You looked down at the envelopes all over the floor on the landing of the stairs. “Ugh!” You groaned, realizing you’d have to set your armload of groceries and books down to pick it all up.

“Here, allow me, Miss!” Came a smooth baritone voice from the landing above you. You look up and see a tall man with dark hair coming quickly down the stairs.

“Thanks!” You say as he reaches the landing you’re on and stoops to pick up your mail.

He stands and you realize he is much taller than you. The top of your head just barely reaches his shoulders. You tilt your head up to see his dark hair is starting to get a few silver strands in it, you look at his face and he is looking down at you with bright blue, twinkling eyes that have laugh lines at their corners.

He tilts his head and smiles a mischievous smile at you. “You look like you have an arm full. Would you like some help?” He asks.

You grin and nod. He holds out his hands and you hand him your big stack of books you just borrowed from the library. He chuckles and motions for you to lead the way.

You head up the stairs and down the hall to the corner unit. He follows you noticing you have an unusual gait to your walk. And watches you walk down the hallway as he follows you. He glances down at the books in his arms.

“What’s with all the books?” He asks. You glance back and grin. “I don’t have many friends here yet, and I like to read to fill my time during the day. I get lost in a good book and tend to spend half if not the entire day reading if I’m not careful.” You giggle. He chuckles.

You arrive at your apartment door. You pause at your door and dig around for your keys in your jacket. Unlocking your door you say, “Thanks for picking up my mail and helping me with the armload of books, Mr???”

He chuckles. “I’m Gary Fuller. My sons, Donnie and Trey and I just moved into the apartment a month ago.” He tells you as he leans against the wall smiling at you. He holds out his hand offering to shake yours. You reach out and place your hand in his and give him a firm handshake. He looks down and sees your hand has several scars.

You notice he is looking at your hand and quickly pull it away. Tucking some hair behind your ear nervously you gone him a smile. “I’m y/n. I moved here after the tornadoes raced through. My home was completely destroyed as was my town.” I just got all the estate and insurance stuff finally settled so I was finally able to pack up what was left and move here.”

You explain. “I found this place two months ago.”

He smiles. “Yeah, we were in Silverton and it got hit hard too.”

Your eyes got huge. “I heard about those. They had that E5 tornado hit!”

Gary closed his eyes and remembered the day. “Yeah, I almost lost my oldest, Danny, in it.”

You look at him and saw the hurt on his face. “How old are your boys?” You ask. He chuckles, “They’re teenagers.” He explains, “Their mom died a few years ago so now I’m raising them... or trying to... they are at that age where they don’t want to listen and are trying to be more independent.” He explains.

You nod, remembering your brothers were like that.

“Um, do you want to come in and have some ice cream?” You ask trying to change the subject.

He looks up and gives you a surprised look. “Yeah, thanks.”

You open the door and head in. Gary follows you and closes the door. He chuckles as he looks around. Your apartment is basically the mirrored image of his.

He looks around as you take off your jacket and unload the groceries. He stops in the dining room and watches you.

You look up and see him leaning against the window watching you. “Sorry it’s a mess in here. Still unpacking.” You say with a blush.

He grins and walks over to the kitchen. “It looks better than ours. We’re still trying to find which box our dishes got put into.” He laughs.

You giggle, “Well mine are in that cabinet. Grab the bowls, will ya?” You ask him as you pull out a chocolate with marshmallow ice cream out of the grocery bag.”

Gary’s eyes lite up and he opens the cabinet and pulls out two bowls. He hands them to you and notices the scars from your hand goes all the way up your arm.

“Did you get those when the tornadoes hit last summer?” He asks.

“Huh?” You reply then look over at him confused. He chuckles and touches your arm gently indicating your scars.

“Oh, yeah. My apartment building fell in on us and I got buried in the rubble. I had hid under my butcher block table, but my arm was sticking out and got messed up.” You explain.

“The spoons are in the drawer behind you.” You tell him as you dig in the drawer in front of you for the ice cream scoop. You find it and set it on the counter. He digs out two spoons and puts one in each bowl.

You get the tub of ice cream open and try to scoop it out but it’s frozen too much for you to get much out with your injured hand. You growl in frustration. “Sorry, Guess I gotta let it thaw a bit.” You tell him.

He chuckles. “May I give it a try?” He asks. You look over at him and shrug, handing him the scoop. “Knock yourself out.” You say as the two of you switch places and you watch him.

He takes the scoop and turns to the sink. He runs the water so it’s hot and then takes a glass from the dish rack. He fills the glass half full, then shuts the water off.

You look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Something the lunch lady at the school I worked at showed me. This trick works great.” He explained.

You watched as he dunked the scoop into the hot water, counted to 10, then pulled it out and scooped the ice cream with ease. “Wow! That cut through the ice cream like a hot knife through butter!” You exclaim.

He grinned and looked at you. “ How much do you want?” He asks. “Um, two scoops please.” You reply.

He scoops out two scoops for each of you then puts the lid on the ice cream container. “Want me to put it in the freezer for you?” He asks. You nod.

He opens the freezer and puts it in, noticing you don’t have much in there.

He closes the door and turns back to you. You’re smiling and hand him a bowl, and you grab the other one.

He follows you to the living room and you both sit on the couch. He looks up and admires the paintings on your wall.

One is a big painting of a waterfall above the couch, the other is a scene of a river in a forest. You see him admiring the pieces.

“Do you like them?” you ask then put a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth. He nods and looks back at you with the spoon handle sticking out of his mouth. You giggle.

He nods, grinning, and pulls the spoon out. Once he swallows the ice cream he says, “They’re wonderful. Very relaxing.”

You tell him that your sister painted the waterfall one and her friend painted the river scene one. That they were one of the few things that miraculously survived the tornadoes.

He looked back up at it, noticing a little water damage, but that it overall didn’t affect the quality of the painting.

You both were quiet for a few minutes as you are your ice cream. “You said you worked at a school in Silverton. What did you do there?” You asked him.

He looks over at you and smiles. “I was a vice-Principal of Silverton High School.” He tells you. After the tornado flattened the school and a good chunk of the city, I decided to move my family out of ‘Tornado Alley.’ So we came here to start over. The boys were pretty traumatized by the tornadoes. They would wake up screaming in the middle of the night so they were happy to move.”

You nod. I get those still sometimes. My psych person says it’s a form of PTSD. She is helping me get a service dog because of my injuries and the PTSD.” You explain. “Are you guys working with anyone to help with the night terrors?” You ask.

Gary shakes his head. “Not yet. Still trying to get situated here. I got hired on as an assistant principal of the middle school here. Much to my boys’ relief.” He chuckles.

“What, they don’t want Dad being able to check in with them during the day and seeing them in the hallways?” You tease.

Gary laughs. “Apparently not.” He says with a grin.

“Well I can give you the name of my Psych person I see. She is great and they have several guys who Work there too that I’ve talked with when Allison can’t make it.” Gary nods. “I will ask the boys and see if it’s something that they want to do.” You nod.

“Do you have a room mate? I noticed you have the same layout as our unit, only it’s a mirrored image. This is a 3 bedroom unit, isn’t it?” Gary asks.

You nod. “It is a 3 bedroom one, but I have no roommates. I work from home Part time, so one room is my office. I’m on disability because of my injuries, so it covers most of my bills.” You explain.

He nods. “What do you use the third bedroom for?” He asks. You smile, stand and take the two bowls. “Come see.” Is all you say and then go to the kitchen and rinse them out and put them in the wash basin in the sink.

Gary stands and follows you. He waits as you rinse out the bowls then follows you to the third bedroom at the end of the hallway. You open the door and he looks in. “Go ahead and go in.” You tell him. He looks down at you and you smile back. He steps in and looks around.

There’s a workout system, a small rack of dumbbells and an exercise ball in one corner, and a huge art easel in another holding your latest work. A folding table loaded with paints, brushes, canvasses and cloths. A few unfinished paintings lean against one wall on a plastic tarp on the floor and a few completed ones hang on the wall. There’s some shelves with pictures and Knick knacks and inspirational cards on them.

“It’s my therapy room.” You explain as you lean on the door casing.

He looks around wide eyed. “You paint too?” He asks.

You step in and sit on the workout bench. “Yes, but I’m nowhere near as good as my sister was.” You say. You walk over to a shelf in the corner and remove a photo frame that has a picture of the two of you in it. It’s your favourite photo of the two of you. Richard comes and stands behind you and looks down at it.

“Is that her?” He asks quietly. You nod. “She died in the tornado. They hid in the fridge at the restaurant she worked at. The tornado dropped an airplane onto the restaurant and it flattened the building and the fridge.” You said quietly.

“I paint to keep her memory alive.” You explain as you put the picture next to a little figurine of two women who’s hair colors matched yours and your sister’s.

Gary puts his hand on your shoulder, “I’m sorry for your loss, y/n. Your paintings are beautiful. What do you do with them when you finish them?” He asks as he looks at the ones hanging on the wall.

“Some I donate to charity auctions, some I give away. A few I really like, I keep.” You tell him.

He looks at one you did of some picture you saw online. You couldn’t find any info on the photographer but you saved it and based your painting on it. He carefully takes it off the wall to look at it closer.

You smile. “Do you like that one?” You ask. He nods. “It is relaxing to look at. Reminds me of a kayaking trip me and the boys took in Colorado one summer.”

You come and stand next to him. It was one of your favourite paintings. Many people had asked to buy it from you but you refused to sell it or part with it.

He looked down at you then back at the picture. He hangs it back on the nail you had it on and looks at it again. “You really do beautiful work, y/n.” He says turning to you.

You blush and look at your feet. “Thank you, Gary.” You say.

Just then his phone rings and he pulls it out of his pants pocket. “I better take this, it’s one of my boys. He goes out into the hallway to take the call. You look at the painting Gary was admiring. Then got an idea and went to the kitchen. You were making tea when Gary came up to you and stood by the door.

“I gotta get going y/n, my youngest needs a ride with his friends to the mall.” He explains. You smile and nod. “Thanks again for your help on the landing. It was nice to meet you. Which apartment are you in?” You ask.

“We’re in number 7.” Gary replies with a smile. You hold out your hand and he takes it and gives it a squeeze. “See you around the apartment then!” You tell him with a grin. He smiles back and nods. “Bye.” He says and heads out the door.

You watch him go and then close the door. You take your mug of peppermint tea and go back into your art/workout/therapy room. You take down the painting Gary liked. You think about what all he had told you about his boys and their anxiety from the tornadoes. You nod.

You take the painting over to the table and turn it over. Grabbing your black sharpie, you write: ‘to Gary and his two boys, may this help bring some peace for you in an anxious world that we live in.’ And you sign your name and date it.

You take the painting and wrap it in tissue paper. Then place it in your cloth tote bag. You grab your phone and keys and head back out the door with your tote.

You drive to your local art store where a friend you’ve gotten to know there does professional framing for you when you have your art framed for auctions.

You show him the piece and explain who it’s for and why you’re giving it to them. He helps you pick out a frame that compliments the painting and he gets it framed for you. You write the same message on the paper backing of the frame as you wrote on the canvas. Then thank him for the work. He wraps it in brown paper and ties it with some cording.

You take it to the cashier and pay for the framing then head to the pharmacy to pick up your meds. While you’re there you pick up a card for Gary and his boys to welcome them to the apartment. You sign it and leave your apartment number below the signature. You pay for your purchases then head home.

You wrap the framed painting in some nice paper and tuck the card with “Gary” on the front into the ribbon. You go back to his apartment, turn on some music and do your rehab exercises.

You don’t hear someone knocking on your door, but when you come out to the kitchen to refill your water bottle you see something shoved under your door.

You pick it up and see it’s a piece of paper. On it is scrawled, “Join is for pizza tonight? 7pm, apartment 7 :) ” in what you guess is a young man’s handwriting.

You chuckle and wonder if it’s from Gary or from one of his boys. You guess it’s from his boys since it’s on notebook paper. You grin and decide to play along.

You take a shower and slip into a t-shirt and jean shorts. Knowing he has teenagers, you grab the new package of creme filled chocolate cookies you bought, and set them with the invite.

At 7 pm you grab your phone, keys, cookies, the invite and the thermos mug of peppermint tea you were working on and head to Gary’s door. The package you left is gone, you hope he got it ok and that someone didn’t steal it. You knock on the door and a young man opens the door. You assume it’s one of his boys.

“Is Gary here? You ask. He looks at you funny and you smile and hold up the invite. His eyes light up and he tells you to come in.

He shuts the door and introduces himself. “I’m Donnie. Dad went to get Trey and his friends from the mall. They should be back in a few minutes.

I found the package left by the door and saw it had girly writing. I wondered who was leaving Dad a gift and peeked inside the card. Hope you don’t mind. I didn’t open the gift tho. I put the card back like you had it. Dad doesn’t know I invited you to join us.” He said impishly.

You chuckle. “I figured as much when I saw the note written on notebook paper.” You teased. “He mentioned he has two boys and I know how mischievous you boys can be!” You teased. He blushed bright red.

Just then you two heard Gary’s deep voice coming up the stairs.

Donnie looked panicked for a moment. “Please don’t tell dad I invited you!” Donnie says quickly. He hasn’t seen the gift yet, tell him you just brought it over and I invited you in!” He begs as he hands you the gift. You nod and slip the note into your pocket.

Danny gives you a grateful smile as his dad walks in the door with the pizzas and Trey. He looks up surprised to see you standing there. Then he smiles and looks at Donnie with a raised eyebrow and a questioning look on his face....

#Into The Storm continuation #what happens afterwards #Gary Fuller #Reader #Painting #PTSD #Injuries #friendship

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say-no-to-this-rp · 4 years

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Friday, 12th of May, 2023 - Late Afternoon

Residence of Andromeda Tonks in Lawrence Hill, Bristol, UK Teddy may live in a London flat, but home will always be a brick-faced cottage in suburban Bristol. He's has always held fast to the belief that not a single thing in his life can't be made better by ambling down Memory Lane (no, really– that's the name of the street), surrounded on either side by sweet-smelling wisteria trees, their branches full with heavy amethyst blooms, and coming up to the front drive of his childhood home.

Gran's house is a brown, brick-faced cottage with creamy shutters; picturesque in an whimsical, English Cottage Garden sort of way. The yard is framed by an old picket fence, which is being held up by a precarious combination of dumb luck and sheer willpower (and possibly a touch of a fastening charm, but if Teddy were to say as much his Gran would only deny it). The front gate drags into the ground, and you have to lift it just so if you want to open it enough to actually fit through. Teddy's offered to fix it about half a million times, but each time his Gran rejects the offer with a wave and an offhand comment about how a broken gate somehow gives the place character. One of these days, he's going to fix it behind her back, and play dumb when she points a finger. Who, me? His Gran won't buy it for a second, but hey, at least he would have to hop the fence each time he comes through.

The path from the gate is made of flagstones, spaced in an eclectic, winding trail that circles the yard before leading to the front porch. Each stone is worn smooth from years of hopping from one to the other as a child, pretending the mulch was molten lava. Following the pathway means getting a full tour of the garden, which is positively bursting in with hollyhock, foxglove, roses, and peonies. There's a long-limbed tree in the middle of the yard, its branches just within reach of his childhood bedroom (he knows from experience), with a knotted face in the trunk that Teddy has always thought looked like a laughing woman. The nostalgia of retracing this familiar path is unbeatable, no matter how many times he follows the familiar circle to the front door. After all, Teddy grew up in this garden. According to his Gran, so did his Mom. Teddy lets himself into the front door with the spare key under the statue of a friendly garden gnome pushing a wheelbarrow, and sets it on a table in the entrance room. He can already pick up on the smell of curry permeating the air, laid over the ever-present aroma of lavender and sage that saturates every memory Teddy has of his grandmother. "Gran?" he calls out, as he hangs his coat on one of the brass knobs by the door. A moment later, the crisp, crystalline voice of his Gran answers back: "Kitchen!" He passes through the sitting room, which he's always thought had a suspiciously misleading named given that no one is actually allowed to sit there except on Christmas, and shoulders through the swinging door to the kitchen. Sure enough, his Gran is at the stove, sleeves rolled past her elbow, apron covered in flour. She's folding butter into raw dough, but pauses to smile at him over her shoulder. "You're late," she chides, but there's no heat to the words, only affection. "Hello to you too," Teddy says with a grin, giving her a kiss on the cheek on his way to the sink. "What's the Flaky Pastry for?" "Not for you," his Gran tells him, giving him a pointed look, "I'm going to a dinner party tomorrow, and thought I'd make palmiers. You're helping." "Oh, am I?" Teddy says with a good-natured roll of his eyes, before soaping up his hands. "Sass isn't cute, young man," his Gran tells him, repeating one of her many age-old wisdoms. Or at least, what pass as wisdoms, in the Tonks household. Sometimes the line between a wisdom and a pet peeve is somewhat blurry, when it comes to Andromeda Tonks. "Who's sassing? I was just making a simple observation." His Gran makes a small noise that might have passed as a snort if she weren't too much of a lady for it. "Who raised you to be such a menace?" "Hmm..." Teddy pretends to wonder, rinsing his hands and shutting off the water with his elbow, "I think it might have been my menacing grandmother?" The pair of them spend the next hour alternating between grating, chopping, simmering, and stirring the coconut curry they'll be having for dinner, and twisting garlic, rosemary, and red pepper flakes into swirl-shaped flaky pastries for his Gran's party the next day. They pass the time chatting about the last two weeks, catching each other up on everything that's happened since their last Bi-Monthly Get Together. Teddy tells his Gran about Dom's latest scrapbooking prank with the hot pink faux fur, and his Gran tells him about a new recipe she's found and will be wanting to try the next time they get together; he talks about his job hunt finally turning up a teaching position at Hogwarts, and she talks about the certain someone from her Book Club she's started seeing. It isn't until they're sitting down to eat, and Teddy finally brings up the wedding planning, that his Gran's mouth pulls into a frown, and she falls uncharacteristically silence. Teddy sighs. He thought she'd be over this by now; goodness knows they'd already put each other through the ringer for it. "I thought you liked Victoire." "Don't be daft. It's not about her and you know it," his Gran tells him with another sigh. Almost to herself, she adds, "It's like you hear me but don't listen." "I listen," Teddy says, with the indigence of a frustrated child, chasing a chunk of an onion around his plate. "Then stop pretending you don't," his Gran snaps. She sighs with frustration, setting her fork down against her plate. "I don't want to argue during dinner." "I don't see why we have to fight about this at all," Teddy says heatedly, "I can't just pretend I'm not getting married, Gran. I am marrying Victoire." "And less than a year ago, you were leaving Victoire," his Gran says, punctuating it with a look that all but dares him to disagree. "Victoire is a brilliant young woman with a bright future ahead of her. And you are a brilliant young man with a bright future ahead of you. But I don't see the same bright future for the pair of you." "I know all this, Gran, because we talked about this. And we agreed to disagree about this. I shouldn't have to walk on eggshells around the woman who raised me, because she doesn't like that I'm getting married to my high school sweetheart." His grandmother sighs, turning away from him suddenly and staring at a vase of peonies set out by the window. The seconds tick by, and Teddy watches them go one by one on the clock above the door, knowing better than to draw her from her thoughts prematurely. After a while she dips her head, like a nod to herself, and meets his eyes, pinning him in place with sharp eyes the exact same color as his own. Teddy braces himself for another argument, but gets none. Instead, his grandmother does the unexpected: "You're right. I am happy for you... I want you to be able to tell me about the wedding." An olive branch if he ever saw one. Teddy grins. "Well, we finally picked the venue out the other day...?" Dinner runs without any further hiccups, but when Teddy leaves for home that night, there's a buzzing in the back of his head he can't seem to suppress no matter how hard he tries. He can't quite put a finger on what it could be no matter how hard he tries... and by the time morning comes, the buzzing has all but slipped away, forgotten.

Monday, 7th of August, 2023 Early Morning Residence of Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley in Westminster, London, UK Teddy sits with his cup of coffee at the kitchen table, pretending to skim this morning's edition of the Daily Prophet while Victoire hogs the bathroom for forty-five minutes. What she does in there is a total mystery to him. What he does know is every morning she steals away into it like a thief in the night, and he spends an hour waiting impatiently to be allowed to pee in his own house. Another ten minutes go by before Victoire comes into the kitchen, looking like one of Witch Weekly's centerfolds and smelling like the same perfume she's worn since she was sixteen (if prompted, Teddy could also tell you it's called Passion Potion, costs five-hundred sickles for a bottle the size of his thumb, and is actually mixed with a few drops of Amortentia to appeal to anyone who happens to pass within whiffing distance). She sinks into the seat next to him without a word, holding out an expectant hand, which he dutifully places the business section of the paper into. As Victoire reads, she twirls her wand over her shoulder, where the kitchen is; Teddy watches her favorite mug slide itself out of the cabinet and place itself onto the Keurig, which resets itself with a new cup before starting all on its own. Teddy was raised to put a little elbow grease into everything he does, and feels it has kept him humble and given him a basic understand of how and why things work; Victoire, on the other hand, is the sort of woman who will streamline anything and everything, and when something comes up, not only does she know a spell for it but she has mastered said spell beautifully. A difference they love and hate about each other. Their relationship is almost characterized by love-hate, come to think of it. With a small smirk to himself, Teddy thinks, 'Love keeps us going, hate makes the sex good.' He does not say this aloud. Mostly because Victoire wouldn't think it was funny. "Today's the cake appointment, yeah?" he says instead, and Victoire turns the page of the paper before glancing up at him with those gorgeous blue eyes of hers. "Is that today?" Teddy raises an eyebrow at her. "At four. Don't tell me you forgot." "That's what Assistants are for, yes?" she answers with a shrug, leaning back to accio her coffee. She drinks it black. Teddy admittedly has to fight the frown very hard, but he does win out in the end. Assistants have, historically speaking, been satisfying a lot more than Victoire's schedule. Or, more accurately, one Assistant had been. But he was supposed to have forgiven her for that... And besides, this is a different Assistant, a new hire named– he thinks it might be Opal? "Not excited about cake?" Victoire shrugs again, before turning back to her paper. "I'm supposed to be watching my figure, Teddy." "Your figure is gorgeous," he points out, but Victoire's answering look lets him know that he's missing the point again. Cheerfully, he thinks, 'Well I'm excited enough for both of us.' "I have a meeting at two, but it should be done well before then. I'll be there." The rest of the morning passes quietly, lasting only for as long as it takes Victoire to finish her coffee. It's not an uncomfortable silence, though Teddy has always been the sort of man to prefer conversation to quiet, but something about it unnerves him. So much so that he's completely unable to read a single sentence of the paper, and is almost relieved when she folds her section of the paper onto the table. Victoire leans in to kiss Teddy's cheek, as she does ever morning before she heads out, and says, "I will see you after work." "I'll see you at the cake shop," he says with a grin. Victoire only half-smiles (the smile she gives him when she doesn't think he's as cute as he thinks he is, but is trying placate him) and shakes her head: "That's the same thing, Teddy." Almost as soon as the door has closed behind her, Teddy is on his feet. He stretches, moves across the room to the kick on the radio, and blasts Top 40 Hits while he gets ready for the day.

Late Afternoon Brew Crew Coffee Bar in Mayfair, London, UK Teddy and Dom are sitting across form each other at Brew Crew Coffee Bar, which would normally be a totally average, fun thing for them, if Teddy wasn't glancing at his watch every few minutes and wondering aloud why Victoire wasn't here yet. The three of them had agreed to meet at the coffee shop at 16:15, because the appointment was at 16:30 and the shop is close enough that they'd have enough time to order some drinks and walk over. Only 16:15 came and went, and Dominique showed and Victoire didn't. Teddy's called Victoire's office, and gotten the plummy voice of her new Assistant, telling him I'm sorry but she's unavailable, Mr Lupin and she's in a meeting, Mr Lupin and would you like to leave a message, Mr Lupin? Which good on her for not taking his shit, but also, Victoire isn't supposed to be in a meeting she's supposed to be here. He glances at his watch and reads 16:46. And sighs. 'Victoire's job is her priority,' Teddy thinks, 'You know this about her. You like this about her. It's not personal, this is just how she is.' "Should we go in without–?" he starts to say, but isn't even able to finish the thought before the phone in his back pocket starts ringing. He gives Dom a knowing look, which says guess who that could be, before he reaches to answer it: "Speak of the devil." "Hello, Mr Lupin?" Teddy pulls the phone back to stare at it in disbelief, as if that will somehow convey his feelings across the line. It's not even Victoire, it's her Assistant. Is this what it feels like to be punked? Is that what's going on here? "Mr Lupin?" "Hey, yeah, sorry. Vic leave her phone at the office on her way out?" Teddy asks, hitting the speaker button and holding it between him and Dominique, so she could hear the conversation. Teddy knows, logically, that Victoire hasn't actually left yet. He knows she isn't going to leave. If Victoire had intended to be here, she'd have been here thirty minutes ago. On time. "Ms Weasley wanted me to inform you she won't be able to make it. She's in an important meeting which has unfortunately run over, and simply can't get away," the Assistant says, voice crisp and carefully neutral. Teddy nods along, even though she clearly can't actually see him through the phone line. "Yeah, alright," he says, already resigning himself to his fate, "Did she say if she wanted us to go on without her, or did she need us to reschedule?" Another small hesitation. "She didn't actually say one way or the other... Would you like me to ask for you, Mr Lupin?" "No, it's fine, don't bother her if she's in a meeting. If she asks later, tell her I said I'd figure it out," Teddy says, "Hey, and thanks for letting me know." "Of course. Have a lovely rest of your day, Mr Lupin." The line disconnects, and Teddy stares at the phone as if it were a crystal ball that had failed to answer any of his questions. This isn't the first time Victoire has skipped out on wedding planning. This isn't even the firs time this week she's skipped out on it. 'This isn't personal. She's not skipping out, you asshole, she just can't make it,' Teddy reminds himself. Victoire's busy. She works hard, she has a hard job, it makes sense she'd get caught up in it sometimes. This doesn't mean their wedding isn't important, or that she doesn't care. It is, and she does. Today just wasn't meant to be. "Welp," he says finally, fully prepared to make the best of this, and looking over at his fiancé's little sister (and to be quite honest, one of his best friends) with a playful smirk, "Guess it's just you and me again, Dom."

#teddy #post #batty

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discordantparables · 4 years

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Today is the 19th of February 2020. The Wuhan/COVID-19 epidemic is in full swing (it could get worse), I am three-weeks in the company’s work-from-home arrangement, and this is the first week of the implementation of our 50% pay-cut and 2.5 day work week. It is not well.

I turn 25 in 3 days, and I’ve been bored out of my mind so I thought that now would be a good time to reflect on the past ten years.

I’ll start with one of the bigger realisations - I’ve been single for 10 years. Broke up with my “boyfriend” (if you can actually call it that at 14/15 years old) at 15. Got into JC making this “promise” with God that I wouldn’t get into a relationship for my two years in JC, didn’t meet anyone who shared my values in Lasalle after that, and the years just flew by I guess. Interest in different people never came to anything more than interest on my end, and probably had to do with the fact that I never really knew them all that way; I was obsessed with the idea of them, and reality has a fun way of showing you that they aren’t who you imagined them to be. That, and the fact that I was never actually close to any one of them in the first place. The past two or three years in particular have been harder in this regard. I don’t regret the lessons I’ve learnt about myself and seeing my shortcomings, but each experience of hoping and falling flat in disappointment snatches away chunks of the ability to hope. It’s like thinking you’re jumping into a deep pool and expecting a rushing flood of water around you, only to feel the sharp pain of concrete slamming through your body into your bones. I’ve written more than my fair share of entries about this latest disappointment, so I’ll stop here.

Another thing I’ve discovered is this - I’m not sure the person I was at 15 (or 18) would be proud of who I am now at 25. I’ve found that if I’m truly honest, I don’t want to grow. I don’t want to go through the experiences I need to go through, the hardship and pain I need to feel for that growth to take place. I don’t want that. I want comfort, and ease, and being just passable. And this, dear self, is the exact person you told yourself not to be. This person so comfortable with stagnation and so at ease with mediocrity - you’ve become the person you pleaded with yourself not to be. You’ve lost your drive for discipline and excellence, you’ve stopped giving your best out of laziness and contempt. “Why should I give my best when I don’t receive the best?” You’ve become entitled, and self-pitying, expecting whatever you want to be dropped at your feet. Where’s your self-respect? You’ve lost hope, that even if you give your best (if you still know what that actually means), you won’t get what you fought hard for. Sure, you tell yourself you’re fighting and you’ve still got grit. But let’s be real, you were punched in the gut and you stayed down. You’ve used those punches as excuses to remain on the ground, as excuses to why you’re crawling instead of trying to stand. You’re lazy, have no self-control or discipline, you stopped pushing yourself. This close to 25, and I don’t say this in an insulting manner, but you’re actually pretty pathetic.

Disappointed and mourning the loss of things that (ironically) never existed, I’m angry at God. I can’t look at Him. I can’t help but blame Him for not giving me the things I want. The thing I want. I can’t look at Him. I can talk about Him, I can do things for His people, I can do a lot, but I can’t look at Him. I’m throwing a tantrum. I know. I can’t see why He’s keeping this one thing I want from me so much, can’t believe that He’s worth not having this, can’t see how He could possibly be good. I can’t help but feel like He’s been playing me all this time, putting someone He knows I’ll like in my path only to have nothing grow from it. I think back to the times I trusted and prayed for it, only to have someone come close and then have nothing happen again. I feel so played by Him.

I can’t pay off what I owe to Mum by the end of the year like I wanted to because of this pay-cut. I spend more than I should be saving, I have no real financial plans or investments and insurance for “rainy days”. (Why are they even called rainy days? I love rainy days. And accidents and situations don’t get wrapped up in a day, it drags on like being pulled by the cheek with a hook.)

25. Twenty. Five. You’ve slid backwards more than you’ve stepped forward.

19 Feb 2020

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attract-mode-collective · 7 years

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Memories Of Mom & Dad Playing Video Games

So no game culture wrap up this week, due to aforementioned on-going health related complications. Nothing serious, though it’s been enough for me to not only miss the majority of Death By Audio Arcade’s latest shindig, Deathmatch By Audio IX (perhaps some of you might recall my mention of XIII), but I also have to sit out on DBAA’s upcoming appearance at the Smithsonian this weekend. And that sucks.

At the very least, I’m able to catch a screening of the one film that truly encapsulates the New York City experience, that being the criminally underrated Bill Murray vehicle Quick Change, with the girlfriend. I should also be able to post something this Sunday, which is somewhat of a special day for Attract Mode, but more on that later.

In the meanwhile, wanted to share something that caught my eye on Reddit, the image above obviously. Not surprisingly, what results are various folks sharing their own fond memories, of mom or dad playing video games. Here are the stand outs…

“In 1989 my parents got divorced. I was 6. My dad went to go stay with a friend who had a kid my age, and we went there on nights we visited him.

One night I was sleeping in my friends room, my dad woke me in the middle of the night and brought me downstairs.

He and his buddy had been stuck on World 2-1 in Super Mario Bros for an hour, and had eventually got so frustrated that waking the kids seemed like the appropriate course of action

I cleared the level for him and went back to bed.”

“I was about 6 or 7, my step-dad had rented SMB2 for me. He eventually pried me away and sent us to bed that evening. When I woke up the next day, I found my 4yr old sister playing, and she was in a level I'd never seen before. Next thing I know, she was battling Wart. I knew this thanks to Nintendo Power. I watched in complete amazement as she battled him, but then I realized her movements weren't quite syncing up with what I was seeing on screen.

That's when I realized I'd been had. My step dad had stayed up until 5am beating the game and recording it on VHS - then set my sister up for the ultimate prank. He really had me going for awhile.

Another time he found a clipart collection of popular commercial logos and started sending out letters on official looking letterhead. He sent his cousin one from Coors about getting to attend the SuperBowl, and sent me one from Nintendo saying I'd been selected to beta test their upcoming 32-bit system. It had a secret code I was supposed to use when I called the number on the paper. I ended up calling a vitamin company and repeating my passphrase to one very confused customer service rep.”

“I remember my mother waking me on a school night at 2am to watch her kill Chaos in FF. That was pretty cool.”

“Dad bought a Gameboy in the early 90s for my brother and I to keep us quiet on road trips (it didn't work cos he only bought one...) And my mom got hooked on Tetris. Most of the accessories we got were bought by mom. Battery pack..a bigger battery pack. The light. The magnifier. All of it so she could keep playing Tetris.

Little while later we got Dr Mario for NES and mom got hooked on that too. I still remember the last time my mom ever played a video game. It was 7am on a Wednesday morning. I walked into the den and there she was sitting on the floor, playing Dr Mario.

‘Mom where's breakfast’

‘What're you doing up? What time is it!? Oh my god!’

She'd played Dr Mario for the entire night. She called in sick to work so she could sleep, and traded the game in for credit at a local game store the next day. Never touched Tetris again either.”

“I remember one of the first games I got for N64 was Star Wars: Shadow of the Empire. Sometimes when I'd get stuck on a level I'd ask my dad to beat it for me. I don't think he really liked video games or anything - I'm sure he'd much rather have played catch or something outside - but he'd play for hours to beat those levels for me because he wanted to spend time with me and my brothers, and that's what we wanted to do. It's one of the fondest memories I have of him. Anyway, at some point I asked him to beat the sewer level for me, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't take down that tentacle boss. Then one day I managed to do it for myself. After that I knew what I had to do. I killed him and took his place as ruler of the family. Old man shouldn't have shown weakness.”

Now, this isn’t the first time that such imagery has been shared in such a forum, far from it. And still to this day, my absolute favorite example (as evidenced by the fact that I’ve written about it multiple times, for multiple places, so it’s finally Attract Mode’s turn) remains the time some dude came home to discover his mom drunk and playing Link To The Past, around 2 in the morning. Which he also had to take a picture of and share on the internet. Naturally…

And here we have my favorite responses from that, the ones that are not quite so vulgar…

“I’m just going to say it, I’d bang your mom.”

“I played A Link to the Past with my mom when I was a kid. I used to come home from school and she would tell me about all the progress she made while I was gone. >:c”

“Sweet CRT man.”

“my mom was playing Ducktales when I was conceived.”

“HEY OP THANKS FOR TAKING A SEXUAL PUIC OF YOUR MOM. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK EVERYONE WHO USES THIS SITE”

“Dude, clean your house.”

“Marry her”

“Seriously, Plasma and LCD prices are so cheap now. Buy a new tv, there is no excuse. A buddy and his wife had that exact tv until may this year. I got so sick of watching hockey on it at their place I went to best buy and dropped 800 on a new 50 inch plasma for them just so we could have a proper hockey party. Really people the 90′s are over it’s time to ditch the crt.”

“COMMENTS SUMMARY: EVERYONE WANTS TO FUCK YOUR MOM.”

Oh, so back to the original subject, that being folks sharing stories about a parent playing a Game Boy… I’ve got one of my own.

It was Christmas time, 1996. Up till that point, I was a freshman in art school, in New York City, my first significant chunk of time away from home. But instead of flying back to Washington State, to spend the holidays with my parents, I instead went down south to Louisiana. You see, there was this girl from high school that I was friends with, and we were just friends… until I began to develop feelings during our long phone conversations, which sprung from both of us being homesick in college (she was attending some major school in the midwest).

So the plan was for me to spend time with her, at her parents, who had just relocated down south (since it was a military household, they were reassigned). I came up with a bullshit cover story to my dad, about how I got a gig on a Rugrats motion picture, hence why I was staying put in NYC (it’s worth noting that my first legit job in school was being a telephone psychic and I accidentally predicted The Rugrats Movie years before it actually happened, yes sayin’). I had assumed that my holidays would be spent a close friend from back home, who wasn’t my girlfriend, but would become one.

Well, that didn’t quite happen. I would discover in the most awkward way possible that she didn’t feel that way about me, and early on into my two week stay. So to pass the time, I ended up just playing Game Boy… as in, I played with her dad’s Game Boy. And quite a bit. Tetris was the game, which her dad was obsessed with it. Him and I would pass it back and forth, to top each other’s high scores. The old man basically felt sorry for me; he knew why I was there, i.e. to have sex with his daughter, but because I was so clearly crestfallen from being rejected, he tried his best to keep me distracted.

Though it’s a safe bet that he would have figured out other ways to keep me occupied if his daughter was indeed into me. Though in the end, I’m happy to say that my Game Boy Tetris skills are so good that it’s enough to beat a legit 4 star general in the United States Army.

Don’t forget: Attract Mode is now on Medium! There you can subscribe to keep up to date, as well as enjoy some “best of” content you might have missed the first time around, plus be spared of the technical issues that’s starting to overtake Tumblr.

#game culture snapshots

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