#Peeling oranges is overrated

[spoicyjuice]

Worst part of peeling an organ is knowing exactly where your paper cuts are. Fuck you I only wanted sweet juicy fruit nor burning peel juice.

[danime25]

You Had Me At Soup

masterlist // ao3

*Summary: While in the Sierra program, Six never got sick. Now that he was adapting to civilian life with Claire and the woman he roped in to play Claire's mom, he seemed to be down with a bug of some kind.

*Rating: T For Teen

*Content/Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fake Dating, Pining, So Much Mutual Pining, Sickfic

*Status: Oneshot/Complete

A gift for a friend, enjoy!

Six heard the plink of fat raindrops hit the window of his bedroom. In between the rhythm of the precipitation, a splitting pounding in his head. He tried to sit up, but that seemed to only make the pain worse for him. His stirring woke up the woman beside him and she saw as he curled back up under the covers.

“Six?” She asked him. She sat up and her hand ended up resting on his forehead, “Oh you’re burning up.”

“I need to take Claire…” He made an effort to sit back up before deciding getting up was overrated

“I’ll take her to school. You have to rest.” She said in a soft tone. Sure it was soft, but he knew it wasn’t a suggestion.

“Okay.” He sighed, “Tell Claire I love her.”

“I will. I’ll go wake her up.” She got up and closed the door behind her. As quickly as he woke up, he went back to sleep. It was only a 30 minute nap, he confirmed so with a quick glance at his phone. He sighed and checked his phone,

“Sent 1 Minute Ago

Got Claire to school, be home soon.”

“Okay.” He whispered to himself before getting up to go to the bathroom. He looked like shit. He’d never been this laid up over the flu before, but he supposed his immune system wasn’t operating at 100 percent just yet. Something about the healing process after almost dying. He managed to muster enough energy to hop in the shower and clean up his facial hair but even that seemed like too much. He crawled back into bed bitterly and looked up at the ceiling. By the time he was back in bed he heard the door jingle open and she called out into the house,

“I’m home!”

“Hi.” He tried to shout back, but this only brought on a fit of coughs. She opened the bedroom door and came over to him

“How long did you sleep for?” She asked him. It was like she was a nurse doing rounds.

“About 30 minutes.”

“Six.” She tisked, “Get some more rest. I’ll wake you up after I’ve made lunch.”

“Yes ma’am.” He took a deep breath and shut his eyes. She stood by his side until she saw the weight of his body sink into the mattress and went down into the kitchen.

---

He jolted up in bed and looked at his phone to check the time. 2 hours and 14 minutes. Better. He got up out of bed and wrapped the spare blanket around his shoulders to walk down to the kitchen.

“Hey.” She turned around to face him, “I just finished… I could’ve brought it up to you.”

“It’s okay.” He sat down at the island, hunched over and rubbing his hands together for warmth.

“Here.” She brought the tray over to him. A roll of saltine crackers, some soup that was warm to the touch but not scalding, and bowl of peeled oranges

“I could’ve peeled the orange myself.” He said to her, popping a wedge into his mouth

“I know you could’ve.” She returned his highly guarded sarcasm with a cold wall that worked just as hard to keep him out as it kept her inside herself. He wanted to break it. He needed to know how she felt… felt about the situation he’d pulled her into. About him.

“Thank you.” He replied after a couple seconds of silence. He took the spoon and blew on the soup before bringing it up to his lips. He let the soup linger on his tongue for a little too long just to make sure his taste buds were still intact. Practically the only sense of his not shot to hell. It tasted… wonderful. It was somewhere between made from scratch and straight from a can but the line seemed to blur. The pulled pieces of chicken were tender, but the noodles weren’t melting into nothingness. He tried to skirt around the piece of celery and carrots that were floating in the broth, until he saw her leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. He looked back down at his bowl and took a spoonful of the veggies up to his mouth. She nodded silently and turned around to start working on dishes. He had to force himself to get the celery down, but he managed to finish it and went back to savoring the fruit. He got up to grab a drink and she pointed at a glass to her side, filled with water. He nodded and took it back to his seat. When he was done with his meal he thumbed around with the cabinets on his side of the island to grab a piece of gum. He wasn’t able to find any so he grumbled quietly and went to rest on the couch. He turned the TV on to just flip through his options. It gave his fingers something to do while the rest of him was bedridden. He decided on something he’d seen a couple of times as a kid and just listened to it. It reminded him of days when he’d watch something with his brother… it was just what he needed to lull himself back to sleep. He woke again a couple of hours later when the house door opened. Clare tried to be quiet, but she couldn’t help running over to Six to tell her about her day.

“Hey, Six.” She smiled at him, “Guess what?”

“What?” He sat up

“You know that math test I was freaking out about?”

“Yes I do.”

“I passed it.” She pulled the paper from her backpack and showed it to him, “I got a couple of answers wrong, but I got the foundation down. I talked to Mr. Garcia about what I could do better next time, and he helped me figure it out.”

“I’m so proud of you.” He gave her head a little scruff, “Didn’t it pay off to work on it?”

“Yeah. You know it’s my hardest subject.” She sighed, “I just hope I can remember it for the final.”

“You will.” He reassured her before she stole the TV remote from the footrest in front of Six. She started flipping through channels before stopping on a teen drama of some kind.

“I know you’re quiet Six, but you’re not normally this quiet.”

“It’s fine Claire.” He replied

“He’s been sick all day.” His partner peaked her head into the room and explained to Claire

“Six.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been taking care of him all day.” She walked in and put a fruity electrolyte drink in front of him. With his daughter and her looking at him, he took a swig of it and swallowed it down. It wasn’t bad tasting by any means, but his body wasn’t used to it. After he took a minute to grow accustomed to it, he drank it down quickly.

“That’s good.” Claire sighed, “You’ll be okay tomorrow though right?”

“Yeah. It’s just another Thursday.” He smiled at her, “I’m going to head up to my room. Let me know if you need me.”

“I won’t, get some rest.” Claire yelled after him as he was halfway up the stairs. Like a shadow, the woman followed him up the stairs and went to the master bathroom. He heard her rummaging for a minute before she opened the door.

“What did you do?” He raised an eyebrow

“Just made you a bath.”

“You saying I stink?”

“It’s good for the sinuses.” She replied as she got under the covers of their bed and pulled out the book she’d been working on for the past couple of nights.

“Fine.” He went into the bathroom and saw the water waiting for him. He removed his pajamas and sunk in as far as he could fit in the tub. He let his head rest along the edge and took a deep breath. Something peppermint smelling wafted through the air. It was relaxing. Despite having slept the whole day away, he could have fallen asleep there. Would tonight be the night? When he finally let go of all reason and kissed her forehead in a way only a husband and wife should. Would she give into the desperate pleas in his eyes as he wanted to be held all through the night? With a sigh he pulled himself out of the lukewarm water and grabbed a towel. He went back into the bedroom and saw her curled up to her side of the bed, resting her head against the back of her hand on her pillowcase. Slowly he inched forward and as he was about to kiss her cheek, he pulled away fearing she might still be awake. When she didn’t react to him in her space, he laid next to her on his side. He faced away from her and shut his eyes. He felt the weight in the bed shift but stayed still. He felt the tips of her fingers linger along his spine and her face pressed into his back. This being before her lips touched the spot where his shoulders met with his spine. He controlled the shiver he felt as she made contact with him and acted as though he was out cold.

“Feel better.” She whispered, the air pushing against his skin before she rolled back over. Six waited in silence until he knew she was fully asleep before getting up out of bed and walking down to the kitchen.

“I’ve gotta go.” Claire hung up on whoever she was talking to and looked over her shoulder, “Hi Six.”

“Hi.” He replied, sitting down next to her

“Aren’t you going to ask who I was on the phone with? Oh it was just a friend from school, don’t worry Six. Hey…”

“I’m fine Claire.” He insisted, when Claire picked up that he wasn’t responding to her usual dry sense of humor

“No you’re not. Is it because you’re sick?”

“No.”

“Is it because of her?”

“No.” He lied

“Six.” She sighed, “Just tell her how you feel.”

“I don’t have anything to tell her.”

“Well then you should show her.”

“There’s nothing to show her.”

“Six you’re so frustrating to deal with sometimes.” She huffed, “I need to go to bed anyway. Good night.”

“Good night.” He sighed as she left. He grabbed a pack of gum to chew on while he sat and contemplated. He couldn’t keep this up. This would breach every rule he learned in the Sierra program, to let himself be vulnerable with her and tell her how he feels. Still it killed a piece of him every day knowing that she wouldn’t crack before he did. “Why me…” He shook his head and went back upstairs to finish sleeping for the night. He woke up the next morning feeling about as well as he did the day before, if only slightly better. He was able to get up on his own, but at her insistence she drove Claire to school that day again. When she got back she did another check on him.

“Not nearly as feverish, but still high.”

“That sucks.” He sighed

“I’ll make you lunch again.” She said, matter of fact

“Fine.”

“Do you want something different?”

“Surprise me.” He curled back under the covers, knowing she’d tell him to anyway. She went downstairs and started making noise as she looked for an appliance. While she was distracted with that, he decided to hit the shower once more. He didn’t feel like he could nap again even if his life depended on it, so he decided to flip through one of her books she had finished while he waited for the smells from the kitchen to waft up the vents. He lost himself in the book though, because he saw her attempting to open the door while holding his tray of food. He rushed to the door and held it open for her and she quietly thanked him. He nodded and got back into bed. “Smells good.”

“Thank you.” She replied. It looked like she had more to say, but whatever it was she didn’t. He looked over the tray, the soup didn’t have veggies floating in it but was a pureed consistency with a bright yellow base. There were some spices sitting on the top layer, and without bothering to look at what she had put on the side, he dug in. It was warm and comforting, and it felt more nourishing. He put down the spoon and drank it straight from the bowl before muttering about how good it was.

“Thank you.” Her face cracked with a gentle smile. He moved on to the bread on the side, pulling it apart with his fingers and looked over at the bowl of fruit. Strawberries today. Not his favorite, but surely she had a reason to give him those so he ate them with the little fork she had included on the side. She sat on the edge of the bed as he finished up and he pushed it away from himself. “I’ll go take this downstairs.” She leaned in, and Six leaned in towards her. Her body not anticipating this, her lips nearly brushed up against his forehead. They both sat still and she darted her eyes away from his gaze. He took her head into his hand and forced her eyes back up to meet his. He let everything that he felt pour into his eyes before she broke contact and kissed his forehead. He took a hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. He held her hand against his chest before kissing it once more. She moved closer to him and tilted her head so as to kiss him before he stopped her. When she looked at him with confusion he explained,

“I don’t want you to get sick too.”

“Maybe it’s worth it.” She said before her lips made contact with his. He wrapped his hands back around her neck as he made an effort to deepen the kiss.

“I’ve… fallen for you.” He said, not wanting to admit how long he’s wanted this

“I have too…”

“Be honest with me.” He said, with the implication of ‘Bare your soul to me’

“Yes?”

“How long have you felt this way for me?”

“I…” She didn’t want to tell him, she had built this wall around herself and if she said anything her protection from feeling was gone. Six knew it all too well, which is why he wanted to hear from her first. “The first couple of months after you told me you needed someone to act as your wife was fine. I fell in love with Claire as though she was my own daughter the minute I met her…. And you, it felt as natural as breathing to feel as though we were in love.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve never had to act because I’ve felt from the bottom of my heart that you were my ‘one’. I was just afraid that you didn’t return my feelings.”

“I understand.” He sighed, “I’ve had feelings for you pretty much since the same time. The way you take care of Claire… when you chewed out the admin.”

“You like me yelling?” She raised an eyebrow

“It was cute honestly.” He smirked back, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man in so much fear before. I was a little scared too.”

“You have nothing to fear, my love.” She kissed his cheek with a smile as she pulled away, “Now… you should rest.”

“I should.” He sighed, “But would it be too much if I asked you to stay by my side?”

“How?”

“Just lie in bed with me.” He replied

“Okay.” She put his tray on the side table and got under the covers with him. They stared at each other before Six closed the space between them with her in his arms. She rested her head against his chest for a second before he said,

“I…”

“Yes?” She looked up at him with doe eyes

“I have to tell you, I wasn’t asleep last night… When you kissed me. It gave me the courage I needed to tell you how I felt today.”

“Oh.” She said before hiding her face back into him

“Can you… hold me like that?”

“You want me to spoon you?” She asked

“Yes please.”

“Anything for you.” She kissed his cheek before he rolled over. Her arms were like magnets to his torso and they pulled his back into the front of her body. She moved up in the bed so her head could comfortably rest on his shoulder and she kissed the back of his neck. His hand worked its way over one of hers and threaded his fingers in between the spaces left by hers. He took a deep sigh as he felt the weight in his chest lift. Sure he was still sick, but with her by his side he had a feeling that he’d recover that much quicker.

[godza]

actually ill go through my fruit lore.

oranges are the worst fruit on earth and i will not be having anybody disagree. i practically wrote my college essay on how much i hate oranges. i despise the smell. ive gotten better with it over time but it genuinely makes me gag. i hate those poetry posts stop peeling mandarins you dumb bitch get that out of my face. worst fruit you have to work for it. peeling isnt easy like a banana you have to get in there and get it all over your hands while you stink up a ten foot radius. i need to leave the room when i smell oranges. burns my nose. gives me a headache. if i could i would ban oranges. i despise them so much i cant put it into words. never tried them never will.

apples are so mid. apple juice is nice but actual apples are so mid. will not be having another one i last had one at age ten

watermelon tastes like nothing. sweet nothing. dont like it

bananas are the only fruit ill eat but i think i might be allergic to them. they make me sad too since i cant give them to my dog anymore. bananas have to be eaten in such a specific timeframe and its annoying. still like them even if they make my mouth buzz and my tummy hurt

strawberries are overrated. who gives a fuck. theyre cute but taste like nothing. the seeds look extremely gross and are uncomfortable texture wise

i have never tried any other fruit and i dont want to ever. can you tell im autistic

[a-sasi-selfshipper]

(Did this because I just wanna rant

About him⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️)

🍓Being anxiety is a full-time gig, but if he had to choose another, he’d be an author because he’s such a beautiful writer<3

🍒We’d spend hours wrapped up in a blanket, cuddling and smooching and probably watching The Nightmare Before Christmas. If we feel like going outside, we’d casually get some boba and then go back to cuddling.

🍎The grape juice that comes in a wine bottle not just because it tastes good but he loves the fact that it’s just wine without any of the consequences. ⬇️This is it⬇️

🍑He gets so guilty whenever I get him stuff and it’s adorable but I think he likes getting them, even if it’s just a small friendship bracelet I made him

🍊He would chuck it right back at me and say “Do it yourself, idiot!” But if I keep asking him he’ll do it with growing concern, asking me if I broke a finger or anything else that refrains me from peeling that orange

🥭He had a stuffed bat named Fang when he was young, so I bought another bat plushie I named Sprankles so we have matching bat plushies!

🍍If I could change one thing from his past, I wish he knew that he didn’t have to put up a villainous act to protect his friends at the expense of their care. That he knew we would love him no matter what.

🍌He prefers darkness all the time, but if he had to choose to light up a room, it would be covered in emo LED lights. He feels the big light thing is way too bright.

🍋(Nope STAWP THIS ONES EMOTIONAL FOR MEEE)He wants to change a lot of things about himself but I think the thing he wants most he wishes that he could stop worrying so much about every little thing, that he could just be easier to love.

🍋‍🟩After the black cat superstition, he ain’t believing any of that.

🍈 He honestly doesn’t really care. Leaning more towards the non-believer side but as long as he’s with us, it doesn’t matter whether it was meant to be or not.

🍏(ACE KING) Soooooo I think he just thinks sex is overrated and didn’t really think of it much until people started talking more about it and thinking it was another thing that was wrong with him. And then there’s me, who was labeled as asexual, that’s when he realized it was a thing to not crave that intimacy like other people desire. Now we’re in a happy ace relationship🖤🩶🤍💜

🍐He’s literally ANXIETY! He has ALL of the nervous ticks. His most common ones though are bobbing his legs and biting the inside of his cheek. He used to bite his nails but I keep painting them with bitter nail polish to help.

🥝Just some simple eyeliner and eyeshadow. He sometimes lets me do it when it’s more for casual reasons.

🫒He would give me little side hugs in public due to his shyness but when it’s just us he will just cling on to me. Trust me, it’s adorable.

🫐He’s a writer, and a very good one at that. Definitely right brain due to his appeal to reason and cautiousness

🍇Probably doing what he does when I’m not around, listening to my chemical romance while making extremely cool pieces of clothing.

🥥He loves writing and sewing clothes. He’s trying to learn how to play the electric guitar and DANG he’s learning fast!

🍅He would get/make me a life sized pokemon plush, and I would literally bawl if he does.

🌶️If I even have the faintest stomach ache or nausea, he will make me drink water. It does help a little though.

🫚he’s not picky at all. One thing I KNOW he will not eat though is any type of bug. He thinks it’s disgusting and hates the bug cruelty. Doesn’t eat green things as well

🥕Remus/Janus probably never fed him veggies in his early days, but will eat them if they aren’t green (pickles and cucumbers being an exception)

🧅Outside of panic attacks, anxiety attacks, and general anxiety, he doesn’t usually cry. I bring enough of the waterworks in books/movies for the both of us.

🌽He absolutely adores spiders and actually has a pet tarantula he calls Princess. He fears no animal FOR ALL OF THEM ARE BEAUTIFUL!!

🥦He REALLY hates it when people are condescending. His self esteem is already bad and it gets worst when people act like they’re the best.

🥒He has Socialphobia (Fear of being judged I think?) scopophobia (Fear of being watched) and Emetophobia (fear of vomit)

Aaaaaand I’m too lazy to do the rest

the ULTIMATE f/o infodumping ask game!

(this is gonna be a long one...)

🍓 - disregarding the career your f/o currently has, what other career would they consider going into, if given the chance?

🍒 - if your f/o and you spend a day doing anything, anything at all, what would they do and why?

🍎 - what's your f/o's favorite drink? any drink, alcoholic or non alcoholic!

🍉 - is your f/o religious? what's their opinion on religion or spirituality?

🍑 - is your f/o more comfortable giving or receiving gifts? why? do they have any preferences on gifts they like receiving?

🍊 - if you asked your f/o to peel an orange for you, what would they do?

🥭 - did your f/o have stuffed animals growing up? do they still have stuffed animals? do they have a favorite?

🍍 - if you could change any one thing about your f/os backstory/character, what would you change? why?

🍌 - does your f/o have a vendetta against The Big Light™? what kind of lighting do they prefer?

🍋 - if your f/o could change one thing about themselves, what would they change and why?

🍋‍🟩 - is your f/o superstitious? is there any habits they follow or quirks they have to follow said superstitions? like not opening umbrellas indoors to avoid back luck?

🍈 - does your f/o believe in fate? do they thing everything is preplanned out by the universe or a higher power, or do they think that the idea of fate is bogus? why?

🍏 - if you have any queer headcanons for your f/o, how did they realize they were queer?

🍐 - does your f/o have any nervous ticks or idle quirks they do? like mindlessly tapping on a desk or fiddling with their hair when they're stressed?

🥝 - would your f/o ever let you do their make-up? what does their make-up process look like? is it simple? complex?

🫒 - what kind of hugger is your f/o? do they give good hugs? do they like hugs? do they like receiving hugs?

🫐 - is your f/o more of a writer or an artist? would you say your f/o is more left or right brained?

🍇 - if you and your f/o never met, what do you think your f/o would be doing right now?

🥥 - what hobbies does your f/o have? is there any hobby they would like to get into that they haven't tried out yet? what is it?

🍅 - if your f/o could buy you any gift in the world, whether it exists or not, what would they buy you? or, if they could make you something, what would it be?

🌶️ - does your f/o have any remedies they follow when they get sick? like taking a shot of whiskey to get rid of a fever?

🫚 - is your f/o a picky eater? is there any foods they will not under any circumstances, gun to their head, eat?

🥕 - when your f/o was little, did they dislike vegetables? do they still dislike them?

🧅 - what makes your f/o cry? do they get emotional at sad movies or books? do they only get emotional under very rare circumstances?

🌽 - does your f/o have a favorite animal? what is it? are they scared of any animals?

🥦 - does your f/o have any pet peeves? things that just really really get on their nerves? what are they and why?

🥒 - what's your f/o afraid of? do they have any phobias? anything minor they're scared of?

🥬 - what are some beige flags your f/o has? so, not bad, but not nessecarily good either. just. "oh. you do This."

🫛 - how does your f/o feel about pet names or nicknames? do they like them? hate them? what are their favorites and least favorites to be called and to use?

🫑 - how does your f/o feel about death? are they afraid of it? is there anything specific they'd like to do before they die?

🥑 - is there any niche topics your f/o is interested in? what are they and why do they like them?

🍠 - what are a few of your f/os favorite pastimes or things that they do when they're bored?

🍆 - does your f/o have a favorite scent? why is it their favorite? do they have a least favorite scent?

🧄 - does your f/o have any allergies? food or otherwise?

🥔 - does your f/o have any food dishes they make often? is there any foods you make for your f/o that they enjoy?

🍄‍🟫 - if your f/o could be any mythological species, what would they be? if your f/o is already a mythological species, would they ever want to be human?

I recommend practicing reblog karma ! people love infodumping about their f/os :) I also recommend sending more than one emoji at a time,,, there are Many here...!!!

[hidefire2]

❝ here, have an orange. i'd make you breakfast but i haven't gone to the store this week. ❞ ( jude )

@accidntals

"eh. breakfast is overrated." which is funny, considering she works at a cafe that only really serves the thing. it is basically every meal that she eats, because as much as she may hate the taste, she has never been able to turn down free meals. an orange is just fine compared to another one of the same, frozen breakfast sandwiches.

"y'want half?" she asks as she begins peeling. because speaking of being late to grocery shop, she has only just now noticed how bare the cabinets seem to be. even rain's have more than this.

[ammcgee-author]

237. Cliché Goth Song

Edgar Allan Poe ain’t got nothing on you,

Because you cry, and you sob, and you drink too much, too –

I want to howl and drink your blood, after midnight,

I want to bury you, and leave you for dead in the moonlight;

I want to do anything in the dark, if it feels right.

Like a ghost ship with a skeleton crew, I want to do everything only if it’s with you,

You’re like an oblong box full of teeth,

Let’s get married and live our lives so happily;

You’re like a mystery that Doyle couldn’t solve, a history of Dupin’s resolve;

You’re like a chess-playing automaton, I’d bet the devil my head that you’re never wrong;

Hop frog

I’d follow you around the world in a balloon, an imp so perverse; but don’t leave me so soon.

In a world where everything feels so untrue,

Fair as a Pharaoh;

You must be a mummy because I want some words with you —

Because Edgar Allan Poe ain’t got nothing on you,

Because you cry, and you sob, and you love too much, too —

I want kill with you,

and be partners in crime;

You’re a nihilist, in a world so sublime;

I want to soak in and absorb your disease,

Slit your hopes, and disembowel your dreams;

I want to do anything that makes me feel free,

When life is just a dull fantasy, of everything we wish it could be —

Like nothing really matters about our lives,

Like Eiros and Charmion,

Living dead in Paradise…

Because Edgar Allan Poe ain’t got nothing on you,

Because you cry, and you sob, and you’d probably cheat on me, too —

Put a hex on you, if a bullet won’t work,

Draw a knife on you, and then go be berserk;

It’s too easy to kill, and so hard to love;

I want to cast a spell, of love potion nine,

Peel you like a orange, throw away the rind;

Love is dangerous, but I ignore the signs…

I’m like a bird on the wing, flying under these raven skies —

Catching up with you because I’m always behind.

Because Edgar Allan Poe ain’t got nothing on you,

Because you cry, and you sob, and I know you’re crazy, too —

Like a cryptogram and a golden scarab,

You talk like an orangutan, but sing a cherub;

You’re so complicated and overrated, I know it makes you happy but don’t ask me;

How ghosts of your past will always haunt you, your friends and enemies will always want you;

I’m game as long as they never catch us, you’re strange in so many ways but you’re the one I trust.

A portrait hanging above your bed, like waking life hanging by a thin scarlet thread…

Because Edgar Allan Poe ain’t got nothing on you,

Because you cry, and you sob, and I know you’re insane for me, too —

A Mason with the jingling bells, a spade and a black cat hiding behind the walls,

Of your heart, beating beneath the floor;

Don’t let me go, because you know that no matter what I’ll always want more —

Like a cathedral in the forest,

They can hide, but they can’t ignore us;

Run if you can, but adore us —

Because Edgar Allan Poe ain’t got nothing on you,

Because you cry, and you sob, and you’d probably kill me, too —

I never know what you’re gonna do,

It thrills me, and chills me… I know it’s bad for me, too.

Edgar Allan Poe ain’t got nothing on you,

But I have to admit, the way it is, baby –

I’m scared of you.

— A.M. McGee

[Notes & thoughts: I tried to fit as many Edgar Allan Poe references as I could in this cliché goth song. The models I was trying to beat were the Wednesday Addams series, and pretty much anything with Vincent Price in it. All goth songs seem to reference Poe in theme or imagery, but sometimes lack the religious, spiritual, and metaphysical depth that his poems and stories had. This song was also inspired by the Goth versus Emo South Park episode, lol.]

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Hadestown

Chapter 8: Unfinished Business

He followed Milah across the street to…

He smirked at the sight of it. It was a beat-up VW van from what looked like the '70s. There was a large dent in the side, the paint, which had apparently once been bright orange, was missing in places, and one of the back windows was shattered. It looked like it had been in an accident, which was probably what brought it to this world if his theory about "dead things" rang true. Someone had probably totaled this piece of garbage in The Land Without Magic decades ago. And yet there was Milah, getting into it and putting on a seatbelt…like it mattered.

He moved around the van, ignoring the peeling peace sticker on the backside, and tried to open the door only to find that it stuck. It wouldn't open. He was about to use magic when he saw Milah lean over in her seat and stretch to pull the handle from the inside and give it a little push for him. Without a word from her, he climbed in and examined the interior. The seats were nearly worn through, the curtains in the back looked as though they were moth eaten, and it smelled like mold and water. Perhaps it hadn't been an accident that did it in. Maybe it drowned in a hurricane, or someone had simply grown weary of the thing and pushed it into a lake for the insurance money after claiming it was stolen. That was what he probably would have done.

Beside him, Milah let out a judgmental huff as she put the key in the ignition. "Shut it!" she ordered at him with a roll of her eyes.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to," she snapped. "It's written all over your smug face."

That comment only made his smirk grow. When she'd known him, he had no talent for acting or putting on a show. Now he was an expert at it. Nothing showed on his face unless he wanted it to. Not that she knew that.

"My apologies, it must have slipped out," he commented as she attempted to turn over the engine. It shuttered but quickly died.

"We can't all live in fancy mansions or have magic…" she rambled on as she tried again. It made him look past her to the place where his "mansion" now sat. Well…there was a failure on his part. He would hardly have called it "fancy" when he'd stumbled upon it, but after the repairs that he'd made, even he had to admit that it stood out. On a street where every house was boarded up or had broken windows, fallen roofs, and chipped paint, his now felt like it let out a soft glow of newness in the morning smog. Perhaps he hadn't been as discreet as he'd wanted to be in fixing it. But he had to admit...he was rather proud of it.

"Certainly a long way from a hovel, wouldn't you agree?"

Milah let out a small huff before looking over at him with a glare that would have frozen his blood when they'd been a couple. "I'm sure it's just as overrated as the hovel was."

He stilled his face and fought back a grin. Words like that two hundred and some odd years ago would have hurt. He'd poured his heart and soul into building that hovel and only ever wanted to make it something for his family to grow into. She'd hated it, of course, though she'd been conservative in her opinion back then and never said the words. That was a good thing. Years ago, that comment would have scarred his very soul. But over the years, he'd grown to despise it just as much for what it represented, just as he'd come to hate her. But now, all she had to throw at him were harmless words and silly insults that a schoolgirl could come up with. He wasn't impressed with her, or her wishy-washy indecisiveness. A mansion was too much, but the hovel was too little…he knew a fairy tale that started like that.

"I'll endeavor to be more average then," he commented as she turned the key again and finally got the van started.

"Do what you want…" she muttered as the car jerked forward.

It was an awkward ride, bouncy, he figured, due to poor suspension, and rough, probably due to a lack of alignment in the wheels, but that was also just his guess. He didn't bother to speak his suspicions out loud, just let Milah drive them through streets and roads that were both familiar and yet not as he took in his surroundings, making mental notes for later. It seemed like almost an exact copy of Storybrooke, right down to the houses and mailboxes, hell even the street names were identical. But the dilapidation he saw…it was like what Storybrooke would look like if it was completely abandoned.

His breath caught at that thought. Storybrooke had been abandoned. If Regina had done things right, it shouldn't be there anymore. It should only be the forest it had been before the Curse took root. But then again, if Regina had done things right, Emma would be with Neal right now. For all he knew, this reflected the real Storybrooke, and that, unlike Milah's words, truly did bring an unexpected pang to his chest. He'd known that he'd cared for his home. But he hadn't known he'd cared that much.

"The cemetery?" he questioned as Milah pulled to a stop just inside some gates that looked like the Storybrooke cemetery only…it wasn't. Finally, there was a difference. The Storybrooke cemetery was small, it was easily traversable, full and crowded with stones and plaques, but this…this was different.

It seemed unending, this cemetery. It looked like it could go on for miles. There were headstones as far as the eye could see and yet so much room for so many more. And in a world where everyone was already supposed to be dead, it didn't seem necessary.

"I don't understand," he admitted.

"Exactly, and if there's one thing everyone here should know about, it's the cemetery," Milah suggested on her way out of the van. He got out of the car and followed after her as she took off to a specific corner of it where the graves looked…pathetic, to say the least. They were old. The rocks were worn and rough with age. Nearly all of them were either cracked or toppled over, and most of them had moss or other wildlife growing on them. And then Milah stopped. She looked over a gravestone, one of the few that was still standing, and kneeled before it. He watched suspiciously as she wiped it down, and almost tenderly plucked some grass from around its edges as if it could help. He moved to stand beside her, and it took everything inside of him to contain a gasp of surprise when he saw Milah's name printed on it.

A gravestone with his ex-wife's name on it...

"What the hell is this place?" he muttered.

"Well, it's not hell, that much I can tell you," she explained, standing up. "This is the town directory. Everyone who comes to this place, every soul that passes through, gets their very own tombstone. People think that they're random, but I've noticed there does seem to be some method to it. Look over there…"

She pointed out a small tomb with a large crack through it. The name was nearly worn out of it, but he thought it looked like…

"That's my father," she confirmed. "And over there…" this time, she pointed to another tomb, perhaps a row or two away from her father's. There wasn't so much a crack in it as a crevice, it was practically in two. "That's one of my brothers. But if you look that way, it's hard to see from here, a long one, laying on its side…that's my mother. Age, geography, and connection all seem to play a role in where these tombs pop up. I figure that if I'm here, then you'll probably be here somewhere too. Though it is odd, usually new stones look new. A brand new one like yours should be easy to pick out."

He heard the suspicion in her voice but ignored it. And for good reason. "Everyone who comes to the Underworld gets one?" he clarified.

"Yes," she answered, beginning to walk among the rows. He followed her, feigning interest in the names he saw. If his theory was correct, then he most certainly would not have a tombstone in this place. But only if it was correct. This might be the perfect way to see if his theory was right! Though looking out over the vast amount of them…he wasn't sure it was possible to search the entire place.

"They're all so damaged," he commented, realizing that Milah's was about the only one in this section that still stood upright on its base, her name still legible. Most of them were destroyed or had fallen down and were becoming part of the ground.

"That's why this is an accurate directory and not just a cemetery," Milah explained as they walked. "This isn't hell, and thank the gods, it's certainly not heaven. We call it the Underworld because it's more like an outpost for both. This is the place where every soul with unfinished business comes after death. The Ferryman picks us up and brings us here, and then…we work through our issues."

"Your unfinished business..."

Milah nodded. "After you've worked through whatever issues your soul might be grappling with, you then go on to Mount Olympus or to a place much worse than this."

Heaven and hell, he had a feeling he knew which one awaited him, and he had to admit that if that was a place worse than this, he couldn't blame his father for not being in a rush to get there.

"Can't imagine a place worse than this," he muttered.

"Well, it hasn't always been like this. The design changed recently. Before it was…"

His mind knew that Milah was saying something important, knew that he should probably focus, but in walking by the tombstones, his eyes landed on one that made his heart stop and his mouth go dry. It was an old stone, and it lay on its side with moss growing over it like a blanket that kept the impression of the name clean. His instinct was to reach down and wipe it off, but there was a certain serene beauty to it that stopped him. It reminded him of how she looked the few times she'd ever accidentally fallen asleep beside him.

"Margery…" Milah commented, breaking his concentration. Apparently, as he'd been staring, she'd wandered over and now looked at the stone herself. "Why does that name sound familiar?" she questioned with genuine confusion that made him want to reach out and take her heart again. Of course, she wouldn't have remembered Margery. She'd only had an affair with her husband!

"She was Rolf's wife," he commented through gritted teeth.

"Margery…the meek little thing who lived down the road."

"Oh, she wasn't meek," he spat back out at her. "She knew herself far more than you ever did. She was…" he had to stop himself, physically bite his tongue to hold in his words. He wasn't going to defend her against Milah. He'd already spent too much time telling Belle there was no comparison. He wasn't going to keep comparing apples or oranges to a sour old raisin.

"Hang on…" Milah squeaked out before he could drop the conversation and move on. The suspicion in her words rang out clearly, and he wanted to kick himself. He'd said one thing too many. Fucking emotions…

"You…you slept with Rolf's wife?!" she accused, forcing him to lift his eyes up off of the tombstone and onto the face of his ex-wife, who looked at him as though she'd just been slapped.

"It was after you'd gone," he clarified, though he was greatly aware that he had no need to. "Not that I need to justify it to you, given your behavior."

"So, you thought I was dead off with Killian, and you were shacking up with Rolf's widow!"

"It wasn't like that," he argued, though he knew Margery likely would have argued it was exactly that. "And I'll remind you that while you allowed me to think I'd sentenced you to certain death, you were 'shacking up' with Hook, who you found as a replacement for Rolf, in the first place."

"How would you know about that?"

"Oh, Milah, the entire village knew about that. You weren't exactly discreet."

Milah let out a huff and crossed her arms over her chest "Well…were you and Miss Meek any better, or did you marry."

"You can't honestly be jealous right now."

"Don't be stupid. Jealous of you and Margie together? I'm just trying to figure out how the two quietest people in the village managed any conversation."

"We weren't exactly talking most of the time," he lied with a wicked sneer just to see her nose turn up. With an opinion like that, there was a part of him that was dying to let her know how loud he could make Belle scream, but it was a fruitless masculine urge that he denied the beast within. Belle would be one secret he'd keep here.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Did you marry her?" she pressed with wide eyes because she could apparently go off and have her affairs, but if he did it, then it was adultery.

He didn't know why, he owed her nothing, but all the same, he let out a sigh and shook his head. "No. No, we never married, though there was a time I wanted to and a time I suspect that if I'd asked, she'd have agreed. But I waited too long. She moved on, and found another man to marry her."

The memory of their encounters played over in his head. Memories of how their interactions changed and their relationship had grown. The warm place he'd once held for her in her heart seemed to glow once more as he recalled their brief private dalliances and the way he'd worried terribly the day that he'd said goodbye to her before she took her kids and went to marry in another country. He'd worried so much that he'd nearly done something stupid.

"I checked on her a few years later and found they were happy, and she was pregnant." And he'd stayed in the shadows, too worried about what she'd think if she could see what he'd become in her absence. Now that he had Belle, he was happy to admit that their encounter had been a good thing. He'd rather have Belle and he was certain that Margery belonged with the man that she'd married. They were better off living their best lives with the loves of their lives rather than two people stuck together just making it work as he and Milah had done for years. But still, the memory of that night made his throat swell with sorrow to think of it. To think of what she'd wished for him in her own happiness...

"Her one and only hope for me was that I'd find someone just as she had..."

"And have you?" she pressed.

He refused to answer. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't point her in the direction of Belle, so instead, he decided to just stare back down at Margery's grave as if she'd been everything to him and let her interpret his own personal moment of silence for loneliness and regret.

"Well, I suppose the fact that she's moved on is a compliment, then."

"Excuse me?" he questioned, trying to decipher what the hell she'd just said.

"The tombstones...they tell a person's story here in the Underworld. When you arrive, you get one, and it stays there, intact as long as you are here. Then you work through your unfinished business, and once you've finished your journey, you leave. Tombstones with a crack through them mean they moved on to the worse place, but stones that have fallen over, like Margie's here, indicate that they've moved on to Mount Olympus."

Mount Olympus. Heaven. Margery was somewhere good. She was at peace. That made him release a sigh that he didn't know he'd been holding onto only…

"Why exactly is that a compliment?"

"Because if she was ever really worried about you, then you would be her unfinished business, and she'd still be here. The fact that she was able to move on shows that she didn't worry you'd find someone because she knew you would, with complete confidence. It's amazing the things the mind can convince itself of," Milah sneered before turning away.

He nodded, choosing to ignore the backhanded remark and instead focus on the good thing that she'd said. It sounded like Margery. She always believed that he'd find someone. It had taken him hundreds of years, but he finally had found the right person to spend the rest of his life with. And if he was right and he still had a life to live, then he had to get back to it so he could spend it with her.

[basichextechml]

1. Do you think you could take Viktor in a fight and win?

2. What is the stupidest lie you’ve ever told?

3. What is something you think is overrated?

Oh Viktor would beat my ass no question, I've got no upper body strength and I can't run very fast. I feel like he'd just swipe his cane under my feet and I'd be KO'd

The stupidest lie I've ever told was when my mum once mistook a lemon for an unripe orange and put it in my lunch box when I was younger. I peeled it and took a bite only to realize it was a lemon. I, being an asshole, realized I could play a very good prank. I told my friend that my lemon was one of the most delicious orange's I'd ever had, and they should have a slice. I pulled out all the stops, told them my mum grew them herself, that they were a special type of orange, and we got the seeds from Joshua Tree, the whole nine yards. They ate the lemon, and I had a bruise on my arm for two weeks after that from where they punched me.

You know those flower shop/tattoo parlor AU's. Yeah. I think they're really overrated. It's not that they're necessarily bad, I just think that they're overdone, and they fall really easily into cheesy trope territory. There are much better AU's out there <33

[sandersstudies]

Silly opinion: I also had no idea that people made the pspspsps sound; because my family is russian, we say ksksksksksks. I don't even know how to properly make the the pspsps sound, my lips Don't Do The Sound. Die-hard opinion: oranges are the most OVERRATED citrus fruit of ALL TIME they are SO HARD to peel and the taste THE EXACT SAME AS MANDARINS just EAT A MANDARIN and be DONE IT

Yeah dude oranges are like “eh, okay.” WHY do we eat them when mandarins are easier to peel AND mangos, peaches, etc. TASTE better

[longitudinalwaveme]

Looking in the Bathroom Mirror

It never failed. No matter how early Sam got up (and he considered himself a fairly early riser, especially compared to the Pied Piper), there was always-always-at least a four-person line to the bathroom, and, since their hideout only had one bathroom, this was a problem. (Sam would never understand why Len had decided that it was a good idea to buy a house with only one bathroom to serve as a hideout for nine highly unstable people, but he had.) At the moment, he was standing behind Mardon, who was standing behind Mick, who was standing behind Len, who was standing behind a whimpering, dancing James, who clearly had to use the bathroom.

“Who’s in the bathroom?” he asked Mardon.

“I think it’s Dillon, but whoever it is, I hope they hurry it up in there. I haven’t showered in three days,” Mardon replied. Sam frowned. Well, that certainly explained the smell.

“That’s really gross, Mardon.” Mardon shrugged.

“Hey, the less I have to wait in this line, the better.” Sam had to admit that the man had a point. Showering was nice, but it was definitely not always worth incurring the wrath of eight other people.

“I need to pee!” James whined loudly. Sam groaned. Why did James always wait so long to use the bathroom? He knew that there was always a line, and yet he always waited until the last minute to go to the bathroom. Len moved past James and banged on the door.

“You’ve been in there for forty-five minutes, Dillon! You’ve gotta be done by now!” Len snapped. The door opened a crack.

“One cannot rush perfection, Cold,” Dillon’s snooty voice announced. Then the door slammed shut again.

“Fine, but if Trickster has an accident out here because you’re taking nine years in the restroom, you’re cleaning it up,” Len replied. Five minutes later, Dillon finally left the bathroom, perfectly shaved, hair immaculately combed, showered, and fully dressed in a yellow-and-green striped tuxedo.

“Top of the morning, everyone,” he said in a tone that was probably intended to sound cheerful. Then he walked off, whistling “It’s a Small World After All” as he did so. James rushed into the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door behind him, but thankfully, Len managed to close the door before James made it to the toilet. A minute later, James rushed back out again. (He’d taken a fifteen-minute shower yesterday, so there was no need for him to spend a long time in the bathroom.) Len went into the bathroom and slammed the door. Then Sam turned back to Mardon.

“Are you sure it’s only been three days since you showered? Because you reek,” he asked. Mardon nodded, but then he frowned thoughtfully.

“Uh, now that you mention it, Lisa kicked me out of the bathroom before I could take a shower on Wednesday, so it’s actually been more like a week and a half,” he said sheepishly. Sam took a few steps back-and backed right into Digger, who had apparently joined the line in the interval. He also smelled bad, but this wasn’t unusual for him, as Digger had always said that he thought showers and deodorants were highly overrated. Sam sighed. Apparently, he wouldn’t be getting any relief for his nose for awhile.

“G’day, mates!” Digger exclaimed, much too cheerfully for Sam’s tastes (at least at 7:30 in the morning), but Sam decided to engage him in conversation anyways.

“You’re in luck, Digger. Dillon’s already finished,” he told the Australian.

“Really? How long did he take this time?”

“At least fifty minutes, by Len’s clock.” Sam had no idea if Dillon really had been in the bathroom that long, but it wouldn’t have surprised him, as the arrogant elitist never got out of the bathroom in less than twenty minutes.

“He’s got kangaroos loose in his top paddock, he does.” Sam nodded in agreement, used to Digger’s colorful Australianisms. Dillon was many things, but sane was rarely one of them.

“So, who’s in the bog now?”

“Len,” Mardon replied, evidently having decided to join the conversation. As if on cue, Len left the bathroom, still in his bathrobe and fuzzy polar bear slippers but looking decidedly cleaner and better shaved.

“Make that Mick,” Mardon added quickly as the gigantic pyromaniac ducked into the bathroom. At this point, Lisa showed up, wearing her pink satin nightgown and with her hair a tangled mess.

“Excuse me, boys,” she said as she cut to the front of the line. Mardon groaned. Sam understood why, as Lisa took even longer in the bathroom than Dillon usually did, but both men kept their mouths shut. What Lisa wanted, Lisa always got, and no one was about to anger her, her brother, and her boyfriend by refusing to let her cut to the front of the line. Mick left the bathroom about two minutes later (being bald, he was a fast showerer, and he rarely shaved), and Lisa entered. Thirty minutes later, she was still in the bathroom, and Digger had started doing his own variant on James’s bathroom dance. At this point, Mardon’s patience apparently ran out, and he knocked on the door.

“Are you almost done in there, ma’am?”

“No. I’m still applying my makeup. Beauty takes effort-not that any of you would know about that,” Lisa replied.

“Okay, but Digger really has to use the bathroom, so you might wanna hurry,” Mardon said as he backed away from the door. Thirty minutes after that, Lisa finally left the bathroom, hair styled, makeup applied, and wearing a lovely orange dress. Digger rushed to the bathroom, almost knocking her down in the process, and left it thirty seconds later.

“Did you even wash your hands?” Sam asked him.

“Nope,” Digger replied cheerfully. Then he and Lisa walked downstairs, and Mardon entered the bathroom. With all his companions gone, Sam groaned. It would have been so much easier if he could cut the line by using the Mirror Realm, but after he had accidentally “walked in” on Len once, he had decided that the risks outweighed the benefits (especially since Len had punished him for said incident by making him clean out the bathroom for three months) and stopped doing it.

“I’m singing in the rain, just singing in the rain,” a loud voice sang. Sam rolled his eyes. Despite his lack of talent, Mardon insisted on singing in the shower, and, since Mardon was also very loud, the off-key voice was hurting his ears. Thankfully, the bad singing stopped once Mardon left the shower five minutes later, but about two minutes after that, he yelled

“OW!” and emerged a few minutes later with a large bandage on his cheek. Apparently, he’d nicked himself while shaving. He went down the stairs, and Sam went into the bathroom, took a shower, dressed, and then started shaving. While he wasn’t nearly as particular as Dillon, he still liked to look good (or at least better than Len, Digger, and Mardon), so he was still shaving when the Pied Piper stumbled into the bathroom about twelve minutes after he’d entered it. The small man’s long, red hair was a frizzy, tangled mess, and he looked half asleep.

“Good morning,” Sam said cheerfully as he finished shaving.

“G’morning,” Piper mumbled.

“You’re up early.” Usually, the Piper never got up before 11.

“The roof was leaking.” Piper grabbed his toothbrush and then started to “brush” his hair with it. Sam stared at him. What was he doing?

“Uh, Piper? Why are you using your toothbrush to brush your hair?”

“Huh?” The Piper replied drowsily. He looked at his toothbrush in confusion.

“So that’s why it felt funny.” He put the toothbrush down and proceeded to fumble around for his hairbrush. After a few seconds, Sam handed it to him, and despite being half asleep, the Piper managed to tame the frizzy mess that was his hair enough to pull it into his usual ponytail. He then grabbed his razor and started shaving haphazardly. Sam stayed in the room and watched, both out of amusement and a desire to keep his teammate from accidentally slitting his own throat. When Piper finished shaving, he stumbled out of the room, and Sam followed him. It was definitely time for breakfast. When the pair made it to the kitchen, it was already a disaster area. Dillon and James were already almost finished with their food, Mick appeared to have burned three waffles and was attempting to toast a fourth, Mardon had spilled his orange juice all over the table and Len’s cereal and Len was screaming at him, and Lisa was pouting.

“We’re out of yogurt,” she explained when Same looked at her quizzically.

“Oh,” Sam replied, not sure of what else to say. He moved over to the refrigerator and grabbed two eggs, which he proceeded to start hard boiling, while the Piper blinked slowly, as though unused to the kitchen’s brightness, and then grabbed a banana, which he proceeded to take a bite of without peeling it.

“I think you’re supposed to peel bananas before you eat them, Piper.”

“Oh. Right,” Piper replied sleepily. He peeled the banana, and continued eating it as he stumbled out of the room.

“What’s wrong with him?” Lisa asked, still sounding annoyed about the lack of yogurt as she poured herself a bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats.

“He’s not awake yet. Apparently, his roof was leaking, so he got woken up early.”

“What?” Len demanded, apparently having lost interest in Mardon (who was now futilely trying to clean his mess up with a ridiculously small napkin).

“The roof is leaking over Piper’s room, and it woke him up,” Sam repeated. Len groaned.

“Great. That’s just great.” Across the room, Dillon suddenly shrieked angrily.

“You disgusting, loathsome creature! I have told you a thousand times that you should utilize better table manners, and now you have spit food on my tuxedo!” he yelled at Digger (who had been eating his cereal with his face since Sam had arrived in the kitchen).

“Don’t care,” Digger replied (although he had his mouth full, so it sounded more like ‘onto coo”). Dillon stormed out of the room in disgust, and Len smirked.

“Serves that snobby lunatic right.” Lisa scowled.

“Lenny! My boyfriend is not a lunatic!” she exclaimed angrily. Len looked at the ground.

“Okay, so he’s not a lunatic, but he is really weird,” he muttered apologetically. Lisa shook her head and went back to her cereal.

“You were asking about the roof?” Sam prompted.

“Oh, yeah. Who’s gonna fix it? I patched the last hole in the roof, so I ain’t about to do this one, too,” Len replied.

“I’ll do it!” Lisa volunteered.

“No, sis, you’re too little. I don’t want you to get hurt,” Len replied. Lisa scowled and sighed huffily, and Sam rolled his eyes. He would never understand why Len was so convinced that his sister was a helpless little girl when he’d seen her rob banks and fight the Flash, but he didn’t feel like inflaming the situation.

“I’ll do it, boss!” Mick said as he burnt the waffle he had been toasting.

“That sounds good. You’re on roof duty, Mick,” Len replied. Mick saluted and smiled broadly.

“Thanks for letting me help, boss. You’re the best!” Len turned to Sam.

“When you’re finished with breakfast, go buy groceries.” He handed Sam a stack of bills. Sam groaned. The last time he’d gone to the grocery store, he’d run into Iris Allen and only narrowly escaped having her call the police on him, and he had no desire to go through that again, especially since she had also informed him that she carried a pistol in her purse. However, since Len already seemed to be in a bit of a mood, he pocketed the money and continued cooking, only for Mardon to throw up his hands and use his weather wand to create a wind that dried up the spilled orange juice. Unfortunately, said wind also knocked Sam’s hand into the boiling water.

“OW!”

“My bad!” Mardon yelled. Sam glared at him, but decided to ignore his pain and continue cooking. Len muttered something unintelligible that was probably supposed to be vaguely threatening but instead just came off as silly, given that he was still wearing his stupid polar bear slippers, and grabbed an apple, presumably to replace the cereal that Mardon had ruined. He continued glaring at Mardon as he ate it. A few seconds later, James finished eating and cartwheeled out of the room, narrowly avoiding kicking Digger’s face. Digger just continued eating his cereal with his face as though nothing had happened. Lisa finished her cereal and stuck her bowl in the sink, then exited the room, and, about a minute later, Sam finished boiling his eggs. He put them on a plate and sat down to eat them as Mick burned a fifth waffle and grabbed a banana, evidently having given up on being able to toast a waffle. Sam quickly ate his eggs, dumped his plate into the sink, and departed the kitchen. As he passed through the living room, he found Piper passed out on the couch, with the remains of his banana on his face. Sam took a picture, sent it to all the other Rogues (and the Flashes), and then went to his room. He sighed, steeled himself for his mission, and then traveled to the grocery store through the Mirror Realm. Upon arrival, he grabbed a shopping cart and started throwing all the necessary groceries into it. The faster he could get done with the store, the better. Seven minutes later, he was in the checkout line-a new record! He purchased all the groceries (a total of $570), and then started throwing them into the mirror realm. When he was done, he entered it himself, walked to the mirror that he used to get back to his room, and threw all of the groceries out of the mirror realm and into the house. Once this was done, he exited the Mirror Realm himself and used the same system to transport the groceries from his room to the kitchen.

“This is why I always send you to buy the groceries-you’re efficient,” Len said respectfully. Sam smiled. Compliments from Captain Cold were few and far between, so Sam appreciated this one.

“No problem. It’s easy for someone who has my way with mirrors.” By this point, the kitchen was mostly empty, but Digger was still there and shoving his face into what appeared to be his fourth bowl of cereal. Sam wrinkled his nose in mild disgust. Why did Digger have to be so...Digger?

“Doesn’t he ever get full?” he wondered aloud.

“Not that I’ve seen. Could be worse, though. You should see the way our “friends” in the red PJs eat,” Len replied. Sam wasn’t sure when Len had actually seen the Flashes eat, but since the Flash Museum blared the fact that speedsters had high metabolisms on the annoying PA system every five minutes, and he had been to the museum many times in attempts to vandalize it, he figured that the man was probably accurate. A series of loud bangs followed, suggesting that Mick had made it to the roof.

“Good old Mick,” Sam said. Of all his teammates, the brawny pyromaniac had surprisingly proven to be his favorite. He was quiet and friendly, and too dim to betray secrets or jockey for position, so it was hard not to like him, even with his destructive tendencies.

“Yeah, he’s good to have around,” Len agreed. (Last week, he had said that Mick was a liability, but then again, Mick had managed to catch the stove on fire last Wednesday.) The two men left the kitchen together and walked into the living room-only to find Lisa and Dillon standing in the middle of the room, locked in a very passionate embrace. Len walked over to them and cleared his throat loudly in that “I’m-trying-to-get-your-attention” way. Dillon reluctantly broke away from Lisa.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I want you to stop PDA-ing with my baby sister!”

“Lenny, nobody was here but us until you walked in! That’s not a "PDA"!” Lisa protested.

“Piper’s here,” Len said.

“Yeah, but he’s asleep,” Sam blurted out before he could stop himself. Len whirled on him.

“Whose side are you on here?”

“First, I never said anything to imply that I was on your side, so your question makes no sense, and second, I’m on their side. Your “baby sister” is thirty-three years old and fights the Flash on a regular basis. I think she can handle her boyfriend,” Sam said. Lisa smiled, and Len scowled.

“But he’s a freaking psycho!”

“Who worships the ground she walks on and follows her around like a lovesick puppy? Yeah, not seeing the problem here.” Lisa’s smile widened.

“Thank you for your support, Sam,” she said. She winked at her boyfriend and pecked Sam on the cheek (much to his surprise). He blushed, and Len glared at him.

“Stop encouraging her!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Sam protested, and Lisa nodded.

“Yeah, stop being such a grouch, Lenny. I’ll be fine. If Roscoe tries anything I don’t like, he’ll get a skate to the face,” she said fiercely. Sam mentally reminded himself not to anger her.

“Besides, I am no cad, Leonard. I would never force my beloved to do anything she does not wish to,” Dillon added. As if to prove his point, he stepped a few feet away from Lisa.

“See, Lenny?” Lisa asked. Len just scowled again and stormed off. Upon realizing he was gone, Dillon embraced Lisa once again and the two began making out.

“Uh, don’t mind me, guys. I’m just going to watch some football,” Sam said, and then he quickly exited the room. He had no desire to watch Dillon and Lisa practically eat each other’s mouths. He rushed to the den, only to find that Mardon and James were already there and predictably fighting over the remote as the TV played a rerun of Barney.

“Tell him to watch his stupid Barney show somewhere else! I wanna watch the weather channel so that I can make sure their forecasts are wrong!” Mardon exclaimed. Sam sighed. On a normal day, he would have insisted that they hand him the remote so that he could watch the Central City Cougars (hopefully) defeat the Star City Sea Lions, but the shopping trip had exhausted him, so instead he just said,

“James, as soon as the episode is over, let Mardon watch the weather, okay?” James nodded and smiled evilly. Some sort of Barney-related prank was definitely going to be played on the Flash (and probably Mark as well) in the near future. Sam left the den and went back to the living room, where Dillon was now showing Lisa a jewel-studded top. He ignored the couple and checked on Piper, who was finally awake again but still looked rather exhausted.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“Ha. Ha,” the Piper said grouchily. He disappeared from the room, and then returned with a cup of coffee. While he drank it, Sam tried to ignore the constant giggling and kissing noises coming from the house’s resident lovebirds and awkwardly drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch that Piper was sitting in. About five minutes after Piper finished his drink, he smiled.

“Sorry for my unpleasant behavior this morning,” he said. Sam snorted. Of all the unpleasant behavior this morning, Piper’s had easily been the least offensive. Piper vanished a few seconds later (he was remarkably good at pulling disappearing acts for a man without access to the Mirror Realm or super speed) and then returned wearing a ripped pair of jeans, a green t-shirt, and holey sneakers, which was basically his civilian uniform.

“Uh, hey. Glad to see you up,” Sam said. He didn’t really know how to relate to the idealistic rich kid, so their conversations were usually brief and awkward.

“Thanks. What did I miss?”

“Digger being gross as per usual, a long line for the bathroom, a disaster area in the kitchen, a shopping trip via the Mirror Realm-we have yogurt again now-and Len freaking out when he caught Dillon and Lisa kissing. Oh, and Mardon and James fighting over the TV remote,” Sam explained.

“So, nothing unusual, then?” Sam shook his head.

“Okay, see you around, Sam. I’m going to meet Wally at the homeless shelter,” Piper said, as though a supervillain going to help people at a homeless shelter with his enemy was perfectly normal. Piper was a weirdo, no doubt about that.

“Uh, you have fun with that dumb goody-good stuff, I guess,” he said as Piper left the house. Not having anything better to do, Sam retreated to his room and pulled out one of his well-hidden JSA comic books and began reading it. Although he would never admit it to his teammates (the last thing he wanted was to share Piper’s reputation), he was a huge fan of the heroes, due to having loved their adventures as a child, and he just couldn’t bring himself to stop reading them now. His love of those dumb comics had once made his mother so proud-but no, thinking about stuff like that was stupid. His mother hated him now, and for good reason. The boy she’d raised to be a hero-hah!-had become a villain, so it was better for everyone if they forgot each other. That way, no one would blame her for him. She wasn’t like Len’s dad-she had done no wrong. He was just a creep, and all the chaos in his life was his own fault. In frustration, Sam ripped the comic in half, deposited it in the trash, and dove into the Mirror Realm. At least that way he didn’t have to look at his reflection. He stayed in the Mirror Realm until he heard Lisa screaming.

“Sam, get down here!” Sam sighed, emerged from the Mirror Realm, and went down the stairs and into the living room, where he found Len and Dillon in a Mexican standoff with an angry-looking Lisa in the middle.

“What is it?” he asked exasperatedly.

“Tell them to stop kissing!” Len barked.

“I don’t care if they’re kissing, Len. And even if I did, what would you suggest I do about it?”

“You could dump Dillon in the Mirror Realm,” Len said, sounding far too enthusiastic about the idea. Lisa frowned and Dillon gave Len a glare that could freeze even the Master of Absolute Zero.

“No, thanks.” Sam didn’t particularly like the snobby elitist, but considering the fact that Dillon was telekinetic, he wasn’t about to anger him.

“Sam, tell Lenny to stop treating me like a little kid! He listens to you!” Lisa exclaimed.

“Yes, do, and tell our “beloved” Captain that he is being unnecessarily hostile as well,” Dillon added. Sam sighed. How did he always end up playing the middleman?

“Look, Len, I know you and Dillon aren’t each other’s favorite people, but can you at least try to like each other for Lisa’s sake? Also, Len, seriously, stop treating your sister like she’s ten years old. It’s getting ridiculous, especially since my mom was married when she was ten years younger than your sister is now,” he said, trying to ignore the memories that the mention of his mother brought up.

“I am not doing anything! It is only he who is not trying,” Dillon protested.

“Oh, yeah, then who was it that called me an uneducated piece of trash the other day, your secret twin?” Len shot back. Lisa looked surprised and hurt, and Sam wanted to scream. Why were these people so difficult?

“I was only speaking truth,” Dillon said disdainfully.

“Roscoe, my brother is not trash! He’s a hero!” Lisa exclaimed. Upon realizing what she had said and how odd it sounded, she blushed, but she didn’t retract her words.

“My apologies, darling. I did not realize that your brother was so...highly esteemed in your eyes,” Dillon said gently. He wrapped his arm around her, but she pulled away.

“Of course he is! He was the only person who cared if I dropped dead when I was a kid!” she yelled, eyes sparking with anger.

“But he’s so barbaric,” Dillon protested. He seemed surprised when Lisa slapped his hand and glared at him.

“Yeah, and you’re a freaky weirdo with a top obsession,” Len said. To Sam’s surprise, Lisa frowned at him, too.

“Lenny! Roscoe is not freaky! He’s a gentleman!” Sam snorted. No one who had ever been on the receiving end of one of Roscoe’s attacks would ever have described him as a gentleman, but then again, he had never raised a hand-or even his voice-to his girlfriend.

“No, he’s a snooty jerk,” Len muttered. Lisa frowned.

“Both of you, stop insulting each other right now, or I’ll stop speaking to both of you and kick you both with my skates to boot,” she said icily. Len and Dillon immediately fell silent, something that would have been the envy of police officers everywhere had they seen it.

“Sorry, Sis. I still hate Dillon, but he does make you happy, and he hasn’t hurt you yet, so I guess I should try to keep my mouth shut when he’s not actively being a snob,” Len said.

“And I apologize once again, sweetums. I still believe that your brother is obnoxious, but his raising you allowed us to meet, so I will try to keep the abrasive comments about his background to a minimum,” Dillon added. Lisa beamed.

“See? Friends,” she said firmly. Sam sighed in relief.

“What did you need me for?” he asked her.

“Moral support,” she replied. With that, she and Dillon walked off, and Len turned to Sam.

“Wanna watch football?” Sam shrugged.

“Only if you can convince Mardon to stop watching the weather channel.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.” The two headed to the den and found Mardon sitting on the couch, staring at the weather channel in utter delight.

“Change the channel to football,” Len barked.

“But I don’t wanna,” Mardon whined.

“Now!” Len barked. Mardon pouted, changed the channel, and left the room. The two watched what proved to be the last six minutes of the game and saw the Cougars lose to the Sea Lions, 29-0.

“Our team is terrible this year,” Sam muttered and turned the TV off in disgust.

“This is why I only watch the Cubs and the Combines,” Len replied, sounding equally annoyed. (He often made this claim, but he always watched the Cougars the following year anyway.)

“I’m starting to think somebody from Gotham put a spell on our team the last time we played them or something.”

“Maybe so.” The Gotham team hadn’t played in two years, due to being called the Jesters, something that had prompted the Joker to turn up repeatedly and attempt to murder several players and the team mascot, but they were still formidable in the minds of the other sports teams.

“You got anything planned, Captain?” Sam asked, more out of boredom than anything.

“Not for another two weeks. Sorry.” Sam groaned.

“You bored?”

“A little. Want to go bother Piper?” Sam asked, not having any better ideas. It beat sitting around in the hideout watching reruns all day.

“Sure. Just let me get dressed.” He left and returned five minutes later wearing jeans and a t-shirt that read “Cold” on the front.

“Subtle,” Sam said. Len shrugged.

“Hey, it’s not like Hartley won’t know who we are anyways.” With that, the two left the hideout and started walking to the homeless shelter. (Sam probably could have used the Mirror Realm to get them there, but most people who weren’t him tended to puke when they were yanked through it, including Len, so walking was for the best.) About ten minutes later, they arrived at their destination, only to be grabbed by an exhausted-looking lady.

“Oh, good, you’re here! Our workers in the kitchen are completely understaffed!” Before Sam could explain that they weren’t there to volunteer, she dragged the two of them to the kitchen, and Sam found himself with dishpan hands. For the next two hours, he washed dishes, in part because the kitchen was so busy that he could barely finish one plate before ten others were shoved into his hands, and in part because he had neglected to bring his Mirror Gun and therefore couldn’t escape through a reflective surface or threaten someone into allowing him to leave. Len, meanwhile, had been more or less pressed into becoming a waiter, and no one had yet listened to his angry protests that he wasn’t a volunteer. Sam sighed. He was never going to complain about being bored again.

“What does Hartley like about this place?” Len asked as another tray of food was shoved into his hands by a smiling teenager.

“Oh, you know Hartley?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Len replied, sounding as confused as Sam felt. What was so special about one volunteer amongst like a hundred?

“That’s so cool! He’s amazing!” she exclaimed dreamily. Len made a face and walked away with the tray, while Sam turned to the girl in the hopes of figuring out why the Piper seemed to be a celebrity here.

“Why do you like Hartley?” he asked, only to have to turn away from her as another person shoved two plates into his hands.

“Because he really understands the people we serve. A lot of volunteers, myself included, have a hard time relating to the people here because we don’t want to come across as rude, but he acts like he’s known them all his life. Oh, and he’s a total babe,” the girl replied.

“Yeah. There’s nothing better than a cute guy who’s also a nice guy,” another girl, who was cooking, agreed.

“Basically, there’s only one guy who’s cooler than Hartley working here, and that’s Wally. We’re really lucky to have a real-life superhero volunteering here, because it encourages other people to help out. He’s great,” the first girl said.

“And he’s super cute,” the second girl added. She giggled, and Sam made a face. The Flash was not cute, and frankly, neither was Piper. How had he ended up in a place where they were celebrities after putting in so much effort to avoid such places? He decided to end the discussion and turn his attention back to the plates. At least they didn’t remind him of how non-heroic he was. About ten minutes later, Len returned, looking oddly pleased.

“Why are you smiling?” Sam asked. Len never smiled.

“I found a new Lisa,” Len replied cryptically, and when the next tray of food arrived, he practically grabbed it out of the cook’s hands. Sam just sighed. He had a weird boss.

“Here you go,” a guy said as he handed Sam twenty plates. Sam wanted to scream at the guy, but knew that Len wouldn’t be happy if he caused trouble off the clock, so instead he just started to wash the new load of plates, trying to ignore the fact that his back was killing him because he’d been standing in place for over two hours. Several minutes later, Len returned, still smiling widely and apparently as happy as a clam.

“Len, I haven’t seen you this happy in ages. Seriously, what gives?” Sam asked as he finished washing a plate and had six more shoved into his hands. (By this point, he was pretty much on autopilot when it came to washing the dumb things.)

“I told you. I found a new Lisa.” Sam scowled. Why was Len being so secretive?

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” he protested. Len smiled again, this time a bit sheepishly.

“Okay, if you’re really desperate to know, I’ll give it to you straight. There’s an adorable little girl out there who looks just like Lisa used to. Her name is Josephine, and she… she don’t have a father worth speaking of, and, well, somebody needs to help her,” he said.

“Um...okay,” Sam replied. He’d long been aware that Len had a soft spot for young kids, but he’d never seen the man take this much of an interest in helping one before today. Supervillains didn’t help people. It just wasn’t done (unless you were Piper, but Piper was weird.)

“I’m coming back tomorrow-and bringing her some presents, if I can get them. Nobody who looks that much like my sister is gonna go without if I can help it.” Sam stared at Len in shock and wondered idly if the Piper had used his flute to somehow brainwash him.

“Whatever floats your boat, Len.” He personally planned to never come back, as, unlike some people (including Len, apparently), he actually wanted to maintain his reputation, but he wasn’t going to rain on Len’s parade, either. Len grinned, took another tray, and then exited the kitchen again. Sam rolled his eyes and kept robotically washing plates. A few minutes later, Piper appeared, beaming.

“I didn’t think you cared about the poor, Sam. I’m glad to see that I was wrong.” Sam almost laughed out loud. Was Piper really naive enough to think that HE would want to help people? Him, the scourge of Central City? What a laugh. There was nothing good about him.

“Actually, I came here to bug you, but then one of the people who I think works here dragged Len and me to the kitchen and I’ve been washing dishes ever since.” Piper’s face fell.

“Well, if you came here simply to bother me, then you deserve your current fate.” The man sounded utterly disappointed, and Sam rolled his eyes for what was probably the twentieth time that hour. Hadn’t Piper figured out that he was the bad guy yet? Did he honestly think he was a good man?

“How’d you even know I was here?”

“Captain Cold told me.” Given Len’s recent mood, Sam wasn’t surprised.

“Of course he did.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to your task, Sam.” Sam stuck his tongue out at Piper’s retreating back and continued washing dishes. Two hours later, he was finally relieved from duty (the shelter evidently really was very understaffed), only to find that Len didn’t want to leave.

“Len, come on! We’ve been relieved from duty! We can go!”

“But I don’t want to leave just yet. I’m enjoying myself.”

“Well, that makes one of us. Now let’s go!” Sam said. Len smiled plaintively.

“At least let me introduce you to Josephine.” Sam groaned.

“Fine.” Len eagerly led him out of the kitchen and up a flight of stairs, where he saw a children’s playroom. A tiny little blonde girl ran up to Len and hugged his leg. Sam examined her and decided that she did, indeed, look a lot like Lisa-and then noticed that she had a black eye.

“Wait… did her father…?”

“Yeah. He did. That’s why I want to help her out.”

“Hi, there, kid. I’m Sam, Len’s friend,” Sam told the little girl awkwardly. He was the last person who should be talking to the kid, what with a) being a villain and b) having a decent childhood, but he figured that he should do something.

“Hi,” she said quietly. Then she buried her face back in Len’s leg.

“Why did she trust you so quickly?” Sam asked. Len looked at the floor.

“I have scars, too,” he muttered, which made Sam feel like a bit of a jerk for being so mystified by Len’s uncharacteristic niceness- this girl reminded him of himself! No wonder he was being nice to her. A brown-haired woman walked up to him. She also looked a lot like Lisa, except for the hair color, and, just like her daughter, she had a black eye.

“Your friend is terrific. My Josephine adores him,” she said.

“I’m glad, but we have to go now,” Sam replied, shooting Len a glare to try to get him to get moving. Len sighed and turned to the little girl.

“I’ve gotta go now, princess, but I’ll be back soon. Good-bye.”

“Bye,” the little girl replied. She released his leg, and Len and Sam left the room and exited the shelter. They walked home, Len still seeming pretty happy, and upon arrival, they found that the roof had been repaired. They went inside-and found Lisa and Dillon making out again. Sam was hopeful that Lisa would be able to keep Len and Dillon in line, but just in case, he prepared to exit the room. He was shocked when Len smiled at them and said,

“Hey, sis? I just wanted to tell you that I’m giving you two my blessing.” Dillon looked at him skeptically.

“What is the catch, Leonard?”

“No catch, Dillon. I still don’t like you, but my sister’s old enough to know what she wants. If it makes her happy to be with you, it makes me happy, too. Sorry I’ve been such a creep, lately.” He shook Dillon’s hand, pecked his sister on the cheek, and walked off.

“What was that about?” Lisa asked.

“As far as I can tell, he has a new person to protect now, so he can see you as the adult you are. I was bored a couple hours ago, so I suggested to Len that we go to the Piper’s shelter to bug him, and he agreed. Bad idea, by the way, because we got forced into working there, but while we were there, he met a little girl named Josephine, and he enjoyed helping her, I guess because they have lousy fathers in common, so now he’s taken it upon himself to protect her, and since she needs help a lot more than you do, he can lighten up around you.”

“Fascinating,” Dillon said, not sounding at all fascinated. Lisa smiled.

“Thanks, Sam!” she exclaimed. She pecked him on the cheek again, much to his confusion. Did she think that he had intended to introduce Len to Josephine?

“I, uh, wasn’t actually planning to help you guys by going there, but I’m, uh, glad that the trip ended up helping you out,” he said. Lisa nodded, and then she and Dillon embraced and started kissing yet again, and Sam went to his room, exhausted. What a day. As he collapsed on his bed, he glanced on the comic book that he had thrown away, and he felt another pang of guilt. If Len could change his spots, and if he could help resolve a family quarrel without even meaning to, maybe-just maybe- he could change his spots, too. He picked up his cell phone and dialed the number that one of his parole officers had programmed into his phone years ago upon one of his many releases from prison. The phone rang for a few seconds, and then someone picked up.

“Hello? Mom? I know it’s been forever, but I was wondering if maybe you could talk.”

[midniter]

ezra furman transangelic exodus for the music ask game <3

Opinion on cover design: i think it translates the vibe of the album very well?

Favourite song: the whole album...... but if i had to choose, either God Lifts Up the Lowly or Psalm 151

Least favourite song: i would say Peel My Orange Every Morning but just because  it’s more like an interlude. Stil great, though 

Underrated track: the whole album fdkjdksf also the fact that she only has 378.779 montly listeners on spotify is revolting!!!!

Overrated track: i gotta say I Love You So Bad because it really is the Famous One, but it’s still a great track 

Rate: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10  12!!!!!11

BIG MUSIC ASK GAME

[stormypaint]

me: i dont like most ‘classic’ fruits

friend: oh, really?

me: yeah. apples are only good in slices, bananas are sorta overrated and underrated at the same time. only green grapes are good.

friend: what about... oranges?

me: oranges?

friend: oranges.

me, pushing aside piles of orange peels as i finish voring every cutie in my fridge: jUiCeEeE

[abrasife]

👍🏼 ana and fos

MEME ┊accepting.

DIANA

Their first impression of them: ❝ She was… odd, in a way. I mean, it isn’t likely for a stranger to call someone cute? Actually, I still don’t like the fact she thinks that. ❞

Their current impression of them: ❝ Well, it’s honestly hard to tell what the right thing to say around her is. It’s kind of tense. ❞

If they have the potential to be in a romantic relationship: ❝ I’m not really that interested in dating. It could be nice, but I really don’t know. ❞ [he says no to everyone; don’t take it personally]

If they have the potential to be friends: ❝ Possibly. I mean, I would like to get to know her better if that means anything. ❞

What their most attractive physical feature is: ❝ Umm, she’s overall aesthetically pleasing? I mean, Diana is Diana, and her look suits her well. She wouldn’t be her without that. Her fashion choice is definitely iconic. ❞

What their most attractive non-physical feature is: ❝ The confidence she has in herself. I wish I had some of that sometimes… wait, don’t tell anyone I said that! ❞

What nickname they have for your muse, if any: ❝ I don’t really use nicknames. ❞

How much they like your muse, on a scale of 1-10: ❝ Uh, seven? I don’t like rating scales to be honest. ❞

Out of character:

Do you have a song associated with the muses: me don’t have songs. It’s very rare that I think of something, especially since the music I listen to is very limited.

FOSSARIUS

** “he’s not here right?? I can talk freely?? I don’t want to get myself beaten up.”

Their first impression of them: ❝ I didn’t have one other than the one thought equivalent to an exclamation mark plus a question mark side-by-side because of that stupid cockroach he let crawl over my bad arm. I heavily freaked out, okay. ❞

Their current impression of them: ❝ … I… actually don’t know at the moment… ❞

If they have the potential to be in a romantic relationship: ❝ Hell no. Romance in general is overrated and a waste of time and with this person, no way in Mila’s good grace would I ever consider a demon who might as well be the same as those damned Rigelian soldiers who made me crippled in the first place. ❞ [I know this stuff references main verse things, but rating memes kinda blend the mindsets of verses because there is no set verse for them even if it would be implied by the muses involved??]

If they have the potential to be friends: ❝ As much as I want to believe he has some good part to him, he’s making it very hard. Knowing myself and my own stupidity, I’ll probably hope for it anyway. ❞

What their most attractive physical feature is: ❝ Nothing about him is attractive. Why would I find a guy attractive anyway? ❞

What their most attractive non-physical feature is: ❝ I find it hilarious he can’t peel a fricken orange, ❞ a smile forms on his face at the thought, ❝ every time I think about it, I can’t stop myself from laughing inside. ❞

What nickname they have for your muse, if any: ❝ I don’t have one for him. And either way, he’d probably break my arm if I used one. ❞

How much they like your muse, on a scale of 1-10: ❝ Oh great. I don’t want to answer this, especially not with people who’d actually hurt me for giving an unlikable answer,  ❞ but of course he had no choice in the matter, ❝ fine. I give him a… four?? ❞ He can’t believe he sounded so unsure after that stupid pre-rating ramble.

Out of character:

Do you have a song associated with the muses: see the previous note for this section.

[froggis-blog]

Amythest isn't always your friend

Witchy tumblr, calming is good and all but if you are doing a spell you shouldn't always be calm, sometimes magic needs fire, warmth and energy and lavendar amythest calming is the opposite of what you need. Yeah sometimes you want change to be relaxed and it is good for you but I see calming things used way too much, if it's a spell for peace and tranquility I understand. Lavender and amythest can help with anxiety and self care for that too but I see people use it for depression healing and things and something to calm you is like the opposite of what you need when you want to be in your bed or grave all day, use citrine, cinnamon, orange essential oil or peels, topaz, warm hot fire things. Same for money spells if you need it fast and need it now the last thing you should do is calm. Calm is overrated, get the energy, get hyped

[mercless]

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Advice for their past selves | No Longer Accepting

[ You complete and utter Fool. I’m not strong enough so you get A QUARTER of that many. ]

Classic:

“The cape is versatile and useful, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Peel oranges before eating them. They’ll taste a lot better.”

“Don’t try anything stupid with the General. He’s smarter than you will believe, just follow his orders.”

“Learn how to read as soon as possible. Memorise scraps of litter, old propaganda posters, whatever is available.”

“Having a family isn’t that bad. Just learn how to tolerate the teasing. It gets easier.”

“Regret your actions, let it haunt you at night. It means you still have a conscious.”

“Check the bodies before dumping them into the sewer. Gold, weaponry, then other stuff.”

“Memorise the layouts of the sewers, the rooftops, and take note of the new infrastructure as Noxus Prime grows.”

“Avoid being drafted into the Ionian War. There will be soldiers collecting urchins, and it might seem like a better lifestyle and a chance to prove your strength, but nothing good will come from that invasion.”

”Don’t… eat the rats raw. Sure, it might seem like a time saver, but whatever you get from them will come right back up.” 

“Katarina has her own problems to deal with, don’t let her anger affect you, it’s not your fault.”

“General Du Couteau is a… complicated man. Respect him, but don’t Idolize him.”

“Sleeping in a proper bed won’t make you softer, don’t mistake comfort for weakness. Just sleep in the bed instead of on the ground.”

“There will be others that chastise you for being ‘chosen’ by the General. They won’t ever understand your hardships, and there won’t be any point in trying to explain.”

“Don’t hold his decisions against him. He had his reasons, even if it involved putting Noxus before his family.”

“Others will look down on you because of your past. Look at them with the knowledge that you’re more powerful than they could dream to be.”

Dreadnova:

“You’ll question the Captain’s judgement from time to time. But he’s watching the battle from above the mesosphere, not on the planet’s ground.”

‘Bring a few energy bars on infiltration missions. The gunk they try to pass off as food on those backwater planets won’t stay down for long.”

“Stick with the decisions you’ve made. It’s too late to change your mind no matter how much you might regret it.”

“Don’t get too attached to your looks. Being part of a space crime syndicate will mean roughhousing.”

“You’ll come to realise how important family is once you no longer know where they are in the galaxy.”

“Depth perception will be a problem for a while after the accident. It’ll take some time to get used to the electronic vision, so just try to not bump into anything.”

“Be sure to admire the stars when everything slows down. It’s easy to forget there’s more to this galaxy than Dreadnova’s control over it.”

“Don’t test the Captain. His only warning for being spaced is to do it to the recruit next to you.”

“Blasters and guns are overrated.”

“The EXO-suit will be weird to begin with. Just think of it as armour that morphs to your body; like a second skin, but with technology in it.”

“Pulling the cloak off for dramatic reveals is Not over the top it’s cool and the cloak is perfect for stealth.”

“Don’t think too much about all the times you were nearly left on a planet that was going to be blasted from orbit. It happens too many times and you’ll start to think someone on the crew has it out for you.”

“Get used to the sound of a small machine running in your head all of the time. Actually, it’s really not as bad as it sounds.”

“Remember those old bedtime stories about the creatures that created the stars? Well, they might not be completely made up.”

“Not everyone sticks their first landing while using a jetpack, but you should really, really try to.”

“It gets lonely in space while on those solo missions, by which I mean all of them. Try to not let it get to you.”

Slayer:

“Aim for the head.”

“Keep those gymnastic classes up, especially those floor routines.”

“Those old book kept in the garage, about the basics in electronics and wiring? Take a few hours to read through it.”

“Don’t be too picky about the materials and weapons you pick up. They’ll all run out eventually.”

“Keep moving. Trying to set up a base of operations just isn’t worth the work it will take by yourself.”

“Don’t steal from other survivors, You’ll already have brainless, flesh-eating creatures after you, no need to add people to that list.”

“If someone asks you for help, do what you can. It’ll keep your conscious clear and mean one less person will be out to get you.”

“That being said, when little Timmy calls out on the radio that he’s stuck in a warehouse, best save yourself the trouble and leave the ankle biter. That whole experience took at least a decade off my life.”

“It’s going to feel like it’s still there for a while. Just don’t try to open any doors or grab anything with the phantom hand when the blade is equipped. There will be blood and tears.”

“The airdrops sent in aren’t worth the risk, they don’t only attract strong survivors.”

“It’s safest whenever the sun is out. Even if it’s partly cloudy, don’t let your guard down for even a second.”

“Get used to rummaging through the garbage. Yeah, it’s gross, but so is dying.”

“Stay in the city. It’s too difficult to get out anyway, and it’s not like it would be any easier out in the wide open anyway.”

“Don’t ever get caught out at night.”

“Get resourceful, get creative. Tape that broken glass to ripped up fabric strips. Who’s going to stop you?”

“Before you climb anything to get away from the zombies, think to yourself; just how am I going to get down from here without any serious injuries?”

[jacobtulach]

task 5: jacob tulach

Basic Character Questions

First name? Garfield Jacob

Surname? Tulach

Middle names? Jacob.

Nicknames? Jacob.

Date of birth? Jac–December 16.

Age? 43.

Physical / Appearance

Height? 5′9′’

Weight? 220 lb

Build? Thick.

Hair color? Brown.

Hair style? Short on the sides and long on top, usually slicked back. Sometimes a little wild or in his face.

Eye color? Green.

Eye Shape? Deep-set, small, circular.

Glasses or contact lenses? No. (reading glasses.)

Distinguishing facial features? A scar on his left eyebrow. A full beard.

Which facial feature is most prominent? His severe brow.

Which bodily feature is most prominent? Wide shoulders.

Other distinguishing features? Monochromatic tattoo sleeve on his left arm from wrist to shoulder.

Skin? Tan.

Hands? His nails are dirty, his knuckles are bruised, and the skin is rough and cracked.

Make up? Nah.

Scars? Scars from cuts on his left eyebrow, left elbow, and right shin. Small burn mark under his right arm at the bottom of his ribcage.

Birthmarks? Nah.

Tattoos? Yes–left arm has a tattoo sleeve in mostly black ink of monsters/creatures. There’s a kraken, dragon, griffon, bear, wolf, and falcon.

Physical handicaps? He’s got bad knees, and he broke his arm as a child. It didn’t heal right so he can’t bend his right arm all the way.

Type of clothes? Plaid shirts, field jackets, jeans, combat boots, muscle shirts …. cargo shorts, swim trunks.

How do they wear their clothes? Sloppily. His clothes have holes and frayed edges.

What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc) He walks around barefoot quite a bit so his feet are pretty calloused, otherwise he has boots on.

Race / Ethnicity? White.

Mannerisms? He likes to smoke. He’s bad at maintaining eye contact. Always has to be busy with something in his hands so he’s usually whittling or sharpening knives, etc.

Are they in good health? He’s in decent physical shape strength-wise, but he gets coughing fits due to a bad case of pneumonia causing scarring in his lungs. Smoking doesn’t help.

Do they have any disabilities? Nah.

Personality

What words or phrases do they overuse? “Look here.” “Sod off.” “Shut up.” And threatening to gut people that annoy him.

Do they have a catchphrase? “You.” (threateningly)

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Pessimistic.

Are they introverted or extroverted? Introverted.

Do they ever put on airs? He wouldn’t know how. He’s very genuine, for better or worse.

What bad habits do they have? Smoking, swearing, drinking, eating too fast, being a terrible conversationalist.

What makes them laugh out loud? Slapstick physical humor that happens in real life, even if it happens to him.

How do they display affection? Spending quiet time with the other person, perhaps maybe hand holding.

Mental handicaps? He’s short-tempered and has a bad memory so he forgets people’s names.

How do they want to be seen by others? Formidable, unyielding, and commanding.

How do they see themselves? As a farce.

How are they seen by others? A quiet, sometimes violent thug.

Strongest character trait? Being pragmatic.

Weakest character trait? Empathy.

How competitive are they? Very.

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? Snap judgements.

How do they react to praise? Depends on the person, but in general he will awkwardly try to get out of the conversation.

How do they react to criticism? He internalizes and obsesses over criticism. Unless the person giving it is an asshole, then he wants to beat them up.

What is their greatest fear? Imprisonment.

What are their biggest secrets? Noah Graves is his real son. He has worn a nice suit on more than one occasion, and gone to “brunch” in New England with Noah’s family.

What is their philosophy of life? You suffer then eventually die.

When was the last time they cried? When he was a child.

What haunts them? He dwells on the pain he has caused others.

What are their political views? The strong should protect the weak.

What will they stand up for? Family and the few people he is close to.

Who do they quote? Nothing but old idioms.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? Outoorsy.

What is their sinful little habit? He’ll melt if there’s a dog around.

What sense do they most rely on? Smell.

How do they treat people better than them? Like shit.

How do they treat people worse than them? Slightly less like shit.

What quality do they most value in a friend? Loyalty.

What do they consider an overrated virtue? Honesty.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? Be a good father.

What is their obsession? Woodworking and a good, balanced knife.

What are their pet peeves? Pointless small talk.

What are their idiosyncrasies? His upper lip will twitch when he’s annoyed. He reorganizes the sparse furniture in his house once or twice a month.

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? Pretty big. Several siblings and nieces and nephews. He has one son, and an ex and her husband.

What is their perception of family? Family is more than blood.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger? Yes.

Describe their best friend. Deadpan and a lot like him.

Ideal best friend? Deadpan and a lot like him.

Describe their other friends. Much more chatty and compassionate. Have more of Jacob’s best interest in mind than him.

Describe their acquaintances. Pretty much everyone is an acquaintance.

Do they have any pets? No.

Who are their natural allies? Jupiter’s Fury’s crew, most other pirates.

Who are their surprising allies? His son.

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child? He was a fussy baby that screamed a lot. He was much quieter as a kid–speaking up meant being struck.

Did they grow up rich or poor? He grew up as a pirate, so a little bit of both.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? Nurtured to become a pirate, but neglected in emotional support.

What is the most offensive thing they ever said? “That’s not what your mom said last night.” (He doesn’t do mom jokes anymore).

What is their greatest achievement? Bringing Noah on a voyage.

What was their first kiss like? A quick peck.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? Not being there for Noah.

What are their ambitions? Keep his head down until he can retire.

What advice would they give their younger self? Fight harder.

What smells remind them of their childhood? Seaweed, peeled potatoes, hot wax, woodsmoke, brandy.

What was their childhood ambition? Become a ship captain.

What is their best childhood memory? Learning how to fight with a knife.

What is their worst childhood memory? Sleeping alone during bad storms.

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? No.

When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? When he got knocked out during his last bare knuckle boxing match.

What past act are they most ashamed of? His first kill.

What past act are they most proud of? He very briefly commanded the Jupiter’s Fury when Theo was sick on a voyage.

Has anyone ever saved their life? Yes.

Strongest childhood memory? His father standing over him.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight? No.

Are they in a relationship? No.

How do they behave in a relationship? Doting but awkward. Unable to discuss feelings.

When did you character last have sex? It’s been since before his latest voyage, so at least a month.

What sort of sex do they have? Rough. He doesn’t take his time either.

Has your character ever been in love? Yes.

Have they ever had their heart broken? Yes.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat? Be the first to attack.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Fists.

What is your character’s kryptonite? Noah. Pretty people.

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? Letters exchanged between him and Tara and Noah.

How do they perceive strangers? With suspicion and derision until proven otherwise.

What do they love to hate? Stupidity, small talk, naivete.

What are their phobias? Sharks and guns.

What is their choice of weapon? Fists or knives.

What living person do they most despise? …tara.

Have they ever been bullied or teased? Yes.

Where do they go when they’re angry? He sits on the roof of his villa.

Who are their enemies and why? He doesn’t like to have enemies. He wants to settle things one way or another and not have any lingering bad blood.

Work, Education and Hobbies

What is their current job? First mate on the Jupiter’s Fury.

What do they think about their current job? It suits him. It’s enough responsibility without having all the weight on his shoulders.

What are some of their past jobs? Gunner, carpenter, boxer.

What are their hobbies? Woodworking and carpentry.

Educational background? He’s got a high school level equivalent.

Intelligence level? Average.

Do they have any specialist training? Is fighting a specialty?

Do they have a natural talent for something? Taking hits.

Do they play a sport? Are they any good? He’s good at climbing and he’s a good marksman but he hates guns.

What is their socioeconomic status? Pirate?

Favorites

What is their favorite animal? Dogs.

Which animal to they dislike the most? Sharks.

What place would they most like to visit? The Alps or the Andes.

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? The Galapagos.

What is their favorite song? Johnny Cash - Ain’t No Grave.

Music, art, reading preferred? Art.

What is their favorite color? Green.

What is their password? password7890

Favorite food: Avocado.

What is their favorite work of art? Michelangelo’s David.

Who is their favorite artist? He doesn’t have one.

What is their favorite day of the week? He doesn’t have one.

Possessions

What is in their fridge: 24 pack of Yuengling lagers, gouda cheese, orange juice, milk, and smoked salmon.

What is on their bedside table? Reading glasses and a bottle of water.

What is in their car? He doesn’t have a car.

What is in their bin? Sawdust.

What is in their purse or wallet? A picture of Noah when he was five.

What is in their pockets? Switchblade.

What is their most treasured possession? His table saw.

Spirituality

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? He doesn’t believe in guardian angels.

Do they believe in the afterlife? No.

What are their religious views? Every man for himself.

What do they think heaven is? There is no heaven.

What do they think hell is? Earth.

Are they superstitious? A little.

What would they like to be reincarnated as? No.

How would they like to die? In combat.

What is your character’s spirit animal? He doesn’t believe in spirit animals.

What is their zodiac sign? Sagittarius.

Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Imprisonment.

What is their view of ‘freedom’? Not being part of the capitalist machine.

When did they last lie? When he told Noah he’d kick his ass if he didn’t bring back his table saw.

What’s their view of lying? It’s sometimes acceptable.

When did they last make a promise? When he told Tara he’d make sure Noah would finish school and come home.

Did they keep or break their last promise? He fucking tried, okay?

Daily life

What are their eating habits? He is a pescatarian. 

Do they have any allergies? No.

Describe their home. White walls with no decorations, handmade wooden furniture. Bare bones.

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Minimalist, but his front yard is full of junk from the storm.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Wake up at dawn and drink coffee with a cigarette.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Drink a beer and woodwork.

What do they do on a Friday night? Drink a beer, smoke a cigarette, and woodwork.

What is the soft drink of choice? Sprite.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? Neat whiskey or Yuengling.

Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype? (Innocent, Orphan, Hero, Caregiver, Explorer, Rebel, Lover, Creator, Jester, Sage, Magician, Ruler) Rebel.

Who is their hero? He doesn’t hold anyone living or dead in that high regard.

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? A pirate.

Are they comfortable with technology? No.

If they could save one person, who would it be? Noah.

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Theo.

What is their favorite proverb?  “To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.”

What is their greatest extravagance? Cigars.

What is their greatest regret? He’s dealt with his regret of not raising Noah.

What is their perception of redemption? It’s not easily earned.

What would they do if they won the lottery? Buy a ship of his own and retire.

What is their favorite fairytale? He doesn’t have one.

What fairytale do they hate? All of them.

Do they believe in happy endings? No.

What is their idea of perfect happiness? Living in a time where he doesn’t have to fight to exist.

What would they ask a fortune teller? What kind of person asks people to pay them to lie?

If your character could travel through time, where would they go? Maybe the future so he could be a space pirate.

What sport do they excel at? Boxing.

What sport do they suck at? Tennis.

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? Super strength, of course.

@noahgraves @captaintheotulach @bernicehector