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make-me-imagine · 4 years ago

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Violets: Loyalty and Devotion

Valentines Special: Day Six

Day One: Morning Glories Day Two: Blue Salvias Day Three: Sunflowers Day Four: Pink Camellias Day Five: Yellow Tulips - Day Seven: Lisianthus

Plot: The reader keeps receiving flowers and sweet messages every day from an anonymous source leading up to Valentines Day. But who is sending them?

Choose your own character ending (coming on Valentines Day).

Gender!Neutral Reader x ???

Triggers: None Words: 1,535

Marvel Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @thebookbakery, @groovyfluxie Requested Taglist: @spuffyfan394, @gaitwae, @fablesrose, @kitkatd7, @thefallenbibliophilequote, @beksib, @destynelseclipsa, @criminaly-supernatural, @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet, @belloangelus, @snarky--starky, @saintbootlegloras, @wecallhimbrowneyess, @empath-bunny, @okkulta, @katinthemoon, @wecallhimbrowneyess, @ravennight41, @youcancallme-rae , @radhumandragonclam, @unfortunateidiotinadilemma, @past3l-w1ngs , @okkulta , @anonymous-pls-dont-click (just daily), @username23345, @hulkswitch, @theofficialzivadavid, @lainphotography, @fred-deeks-ben,

February 11th

It was early-morning as you were lying in your bed, still comfortable under the covers. You had stayed up till late at night with the others as you discussed Tony’s Valentines party. Tony was hiring some party planners and caterers today to set everything up.

You were also bombarded with questions about your secret admirer. And everyone was questioning whether it was one of them, but of course no one spoke up or admitted it. If it was one of them, they played it off very well.

As you were lying there, you were flicking through the notes you had received over the last five days. You had read over them countless times now, the words embedded in your mind.

You tried to match the language of the words with the people you knew. The most obvious would be Loki and Vision. They both had a way with their words that came off as poetic. But then again, maybe the way the notes were written were purposefully written in such a way as to throw you off.

Reading over the note that had been attached to the Sunflowers, your eyes read over one part again and again “I adore your grace, and elegance, your compassion, kindness and bravery. There is no way I could not absolutely adore every fiber of your being.”

This part made your heart swell. ‘every fiber of your being’, the good and the bad. You smiled at the words as you continued to flick through them. You felt like a bashful teenager reading through texts from their crush.

You began thinking about Tony’s party. You wondered if Valentines Day was what all of these notes and flowers were leading up to. It seemed to be that way, and you hoped it was. Though, you were very nervous about it. What if everyone except you secretly knew who it was? God you hoped it wasn’t going to be a public admission. You cringed at the thought.

After glancing at the clock you figured you had been lying in bed for long enough. Getting up, you took a quick shower and got changed before leaving your room. You weren’t headed anywhere in particular, you had no work you had to do today, so you were free to relax, but you got bored sitting in your room all day. Maybe you’d go for a walk?

Rounding a corner, you see Bucky, Steve and Sam coming from another hall. Upon seeing you they all smiled and greeted you.

“Hey” you replied as you approached them “What are you guys up too?”

“We’re about to go train a bit, wanna join?” Steve suggested.

“I would but I have been demanded that I not do anything strenuous today because of what happened yesterday.”

“Sounds like a good idea, just in case.” Bucky commented, while smiling fondly at you. “How are you feeling anyway?”

“I feel fine. I’m think I’m gonna go for a walk.”

“A short one” Sam said, as he pointed at you.

You nodded and laughed “Yes, just a short, non-strenuous walk. See you guys later” you said as you parted ways.

As you began walking towards the exit of the building, you were stopped when a man at the front desk called out to you “Agent L/N!”

“Hey Gene” you greeted as you walked over to him.

“This letter was left here for you” he said handing you a small pale blue envelope, a sticker with your name printed on the front.

“Oh, thank you. Uh, who was it left by?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t see, I was talking to someone else and when I turned back around, there is was.”

“Oh, hmm, thanks Gene” you said as you walked away from the desk and opened the letter. You immediately recognized the font of the letter and your heart began to beat rapidly.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ Y/n,

I was so glad to see that you were alright after what happened yesterday. I was so afraid that you were more badly injured. Especially as I sat next to you in your hospital bed, and you seemed so faded. I hope you liked the flowers I left for you again.

Also, I am sorry for what curiosity and confusion all of this might be causing you. But I must admit, I also hope that you are getting some form of enjoyment or excitement from it as well. I’m sure you must be wondering, when will I finally show myself? And maybe you have already guessed that it will be on Valentines Day. I think it quite suiting, and hopefully romantic.

So, please wait patiently for only a few more days, and then all will be revealed.

But until then, you still have 3 days before then, including today. I’m not sure when you will receive this letter, but you should have another present waiting for you at your door, perhaps you already received it. I hope you like it.

Until the party. ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

You smiled at the letter as you finished reading it. Looking around the lobby, you tried to see if anyone seemed to be watching you. But seeing no one paying attention to you at all, and knowing you had yet to receive your next gift, you decided to go on your walk.

On your walk, you could not get the thought of what the flowers you will receive will be. The ones you’ve gotten so far have been so beautiful. You should press them, save them somewhere. Maybe a flower from each.

Unable to stop thinking about it, you turned back mid way through your walk to head back. You wonder when they always know when to deliver the flowers...

Making your way back into the tower and up to your room, you held an energy of nervous excitement. As the elevator door opened at your floor, you partially expected to catch them there, at your door. But, you were not really surprised when the door slid open and all you saw was a small plant at the base of your door.

It was small, and as you approached it, you could recognize what it was. A small potted violet plant, with blooming flowers sprouting from the top. You smiled as you picked it up, admiring it.

“Cute” you muttered with a smile as you unlocked and entered your apartment as you plucked out the note from the pot.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ Violets.

Violets hold the meaning of Loyalty and Devotion. Both are traits you have and both are traits I admire about you. But besides this, these are both promises. Promises of how I feel towards you. And they are exactly what you deserve. You are loyal to a fault, and you deserve someone to be loyal to you for as long as you live. You are devoted, to saving people, to helping people, to making people happy. And you deserve someone to be just as devoted to you.

I hope that I can give these to you. I have been loyal to you since before I remember having feelings for you. Because you are the type of person people trust wholeheartedly, as I do. And I promise, no matter what, to be devoted to your happiness. ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

You sat on the edge of your bed as you read the powerful words. “Do I deserve this person?” you wondered out loud. They seem so....well, devoted. You often caught yourself wondering what exactly you deserved out of love, and you have only been hopeful that you would find someone who could make you feel so important and loved. This could be that person.

Sure, you still had your hopes of who this person could be. One person in particular. But, you seemed to find yourself falling for this anonymous person anyway, even not knowing who they are. And to a part of you, it did not matter.

Was that crazy? Falling for someone when you don’t know who they are? I mean, apparently you did know them, so it wasn’t as crazy as falling for a complete stranger.

Falling back onto your bed, you stared up at the ceiling. “Only a few more days” you said out loud. Would they show themselves before Tony’s party, during? After? How would you react?

You only found yourself asking more and more questions throughout the day. Debating whether or not you wanted to talk to someone about it, you decided against it though. What if you ended up telling everything you felt and feared to them on accident. At this point, it could be any of them.

So, you kept it all to yourself. Any time you saw one of the others, they would ask you whether of not you had received another gift, or a note. You would tell them yes, but not go into detail. The notes were too personal, you couldn’t just share them with anyone. They were meant for you. And you would keep them stored away for yourself. Hoping that some day soon you could really talk about them with the one who wrote them for you.

xx xx xx xx xx

I hope you are enjoying these so far.

I know they aren’t great, since there is no real Character x Reader stuff in it, but I hope you are enjoying the build up and are excited for the endings.

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years ago

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A Muppet Family Christmas

Day 13 of 2018′s 31 Days of Christmas. Note: new for 2020. Credited as 2018 for organizational purposes, & back-filling the prompt.

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the prompt list!

Prompt: Holiday movies

Rating: T (sexual themes, alcohol)

Pairing: TenxRose (AU)

Summary: Despite being mid-January James and Rose have a Christmas-movie watching date, and open up about old grief amidst being childish with the Muppets and Mario Kart. Part of the Cosier With You ‘verse.

2018 31 Days of Ficmas Masterlist | Cosier With You ‘Verse

AO3

---

With a final swipe of gloss across her lips, Rose returned the lipstick to her purse, fluffed her hair, and knocked on the door.

“It’s open!”

Pushing the door open, she grinned at the sight that greeted her. Hair still obviously wet from the shower, her boyfriend of three weeks (and counting!) stood on the far side of his kitchen island, preoccupied with a popcorn popper that was spitting out perfectly popped corn. “Hey!” he greeted her warmly, as she dumped her stuff and came around to his side. “Missed you.”

“I saw you this morning,” she laughed, kissing him hello. “Mm, you taste like butter.”

“I had to make sure it was good,” James shrugged, gesturing to the half-full bowl catching the freshly popped corn. “Only the best for you. And yes, but we were at your place of work, surrounded by people. I much prefer when we’re alone.”

“So do I.” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she rested her head on his bicep. “Remind me why we’re watching Christmas movies in mid-January?”

James eased out of her arms as the popper wound down, dumping the last of the kernels into the bowl before switching the machine off. “Because I don’t want to wait a year to curl up with you and popcorn and watch cheesy Christmas-themed movies with you.” He nodded towards a bottle of white wine and two glasses on the counter, still chilled from the fridge, waiting for Rose to grab them before guiding her to the couch, which was already prepared for the evening.

Two soft, fleece-lined blankets stood at the ready, along with the pillows from his bed. A stack of DVDs sat on the coffee table, two drink coasters optimally positioned, and to complete the Christmas-y vibe, all the decorations, including the tree, were still up.

“So, for future reference, do you typically leave the tree up this long?” she asked, plopping down roughly in the middle of the couch and pulling out the pre-popped cork. “‘Cause I’ve gotta be honest, mine’s been down since the third, and this might be a sticking point in the future.”

He laughed, settling next to her and reaching for his glass. “No, but… I’m not ready to take it down yet, this year. I’m afraid…”

“What?” She took her own glass, leaning back into the cushions and giving him her full attention.

“I’m afraid that this- what we have- is a function of Christmas magic, and if I remove the decorations…” he trailed off, ears flushing. “Point is, I’m not taking any chances on this.”

Rose grinned, blushing herself, and wiggled closer. “I’m not going to disappear if you take your tree down,” she promised. “And I’m mostly teasing you – it’s sort of nice, it still being up. Not sure I’d say the same if I was living- with one still up,” she faltered, and they shared a smile at what was unsaid- “but… yeah. I wouldn’t want to jinx us either. I’ve been wanting this for so long.”

“Me too.” He leaned forward, and they met in the middle in a kiss that tasted of salt from the popcorn, tart from the wine, and sweet from what she was learning was just him. “Mhmm, you’re too tempting,” he accused without heat when he pulled back for breath. “This isn’t why I asked you over.”

“All right, all right,” she resettled herself with a laugh. “Fine, we can Netflix then Chill, if that’s what you really want.”

His ears and neck turned a delightful shade of scarlet, and he all but lunged for the stack of DVDs, voice squeaking as he said, “So! What shall we start with?”

Leaning in again she rested her cheek against his shoulder as they shuffled through the selection, and it took everything she had not to scoff at the final option, managing a neutral tone to say, “A Muppet Family Christmas?”

James stilled beside her, and she was glad she hadn’t laughed when a distant expression flashed across his face. “It was my dad’s favorite Christmas movie,” he said, hesitantly. “Mum hated it, but tolerated it when we were old enough to watch it. It became our thing, me Donna and Dad’s. She and I still watch it together every year.”

“Oh.” Rose tried to marshal her thoughts, recognizing that he was letting her in on something special, wondering distantly if it was some sort of test. “I’ve never actually seen it.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Slightly before my time. I know who the Muppets are, of course, saw the Christmas Carol one, but… not this.”

He was silent for a moment, picking at the corner of the box. “D’you wanna?”

“Yes.” She surprised them both with the strength of her response, based on how James’ head flew up to blink at her. “Sounds like this might be the closest I get to meeting your Dad, so- let’s do it.”

His blinding smile told her it was absolutely the right answer.

By the end of the movie they were snuggled together, singing along at the top of their lungs to the final song, even as it trailed off to the credits.

“-And a happy new year!” they finished, before breaking into peals of laughter.

“Oh, I loved it,” Rose proclaimed, wiping tears of merriment from her eyes. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen that – it’s adorable!”

Beside her, James made a happy noise, pressing his face into her bicep. “Really?”

Wriggling around, Rose waited until she could meet his eye to respond. “Really,” she said firmly. “There’s something special about it. And more importantly, it’s special to you. So it’s special to me. Thank you for sharing this bit of yourself with me.” No words could express how honored she felt, that he was comfortable sharing something so personal with her. It made her a little wistful for her own father; while both men were gone, James had at least grown up with his father, known him in person- Rose had been a baby when Pete died.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” James’ concerned tone dragged her out of the spiral of her thoughts, and she looked up at him when he brushed at her cheek. “You’re crying.”

She bit her lip. “I was just thinking about my own dad,” she said truthfully. “I’d give anything to share something like this with him. Or, anything, really. I was six months when he- when we lost him. I mean, on bank holidays Mum and I watch old Cliff Richards movies, but… it’s not quite the same as this.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a… a sad memory for you.” His soulful chocolate eyes felt like they could see into her very heart, and she pushed down the ever-present but background grief.

“It’s okay. Sometimes it hits me in the weirdest moments. And I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet your Dad – he sounds wonderful, based on your stories.” Then she bolted upright, as a memory surfaced. “Holy shit – I think I did meet your dad! Three Christmases ago, the first couple months you were coming in – we didn’t have much of a relationship then, but I still clocked you every time, ‘cause you’re so bloody cute, and I remember you came in a few days before Christmas with an older man! You’d been out shopping, and blimey, he looked just like you!”

James was silent for a long moment, before exhaling. “Blimey, I think you’re right. I’d forgotten – I was sweet on your even then, and I think he noticed, ‘cause he kept teasing me. I never took him back, for fear of him embarrassing me. But… yeah, there you go. You did meet him. And he liked you, much as he could in thirty seconds. Kept egging me to ask you out, and I brushed him off. If only I’d listened to him…”

They sat with that, imaging what could have been, before Rose clapped her hands. “No, we are not going down that rabbit hole. Let’s be grateful that we got there, and we’re here now. Trust me, I spent my entire life pretending not to notice how my mum had one foot stuck in the could-have-beens. Better not to start down that path.” She reached for the bottle of wine, but it was empty. “What d’you say we go do some stargazing?”

“Or…” he drawled, raising an eyebrow, “we could continue on our childish theme and play Mario Kart.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

By the third race their maudlin musings had been all but forgotten, as they battled it out for first place with taunts and good-natured ribbing, giving no quarter and playing as though their lives depended on it – complete with over-dramatic victory dances and cheering.

“Oh, come on!” James protested, as Rose eked out a second win by a breath. “You’re cheating!”

“Am not,” she denied, settling back on the couch after a final celebratory kick. “Novice, remember? Beginner’s luck?”

He grumbled, turning to look at her. “Care to make it more interesting?”

“How so?”

“Winner takes a shot, loser loses an item of clothing?”

Rose laughed, shaking her head. “You want to turn strip-racing into a drinking game?” Leaning back, she considered her outfit and his, then the empty bottle of wine. “What d’you got for shots?”

A rifle through the fridge produced a cold bottle of peppermint schnapps, “In keeping with the Christmas theme,” he declared, setting it on the coffee table along with two shot glasses. “Hope you’re thirsty.”

Shaking her head, Rose folded her legs beneath her. “You do know I’m a sure thing, right?” she teased, choosing the next track in the game. “You don’t need to get me drunk, or strip to get me interested.”

“Someone’s confident in themself, aren’t they?” he leered. “Better watch out – who knows what the promise of getting you in your knickers will do to my ability in the game?”

“Not a thing,” she shot back, catching her tongue between her teeth. “Because there’s no where you’re getting me in my knickers.” She started the race, laughing at his outraged yelp.

“We’ll see.”

The light turned green and they took off, and Rose waited until they were near the end and he was slightly ahead to say, “I’d have to be wearing knickers for you to see me in them.” As predicted he startled, going so far as to drop his controller, and with a laugh, she sped across the finish line for her third win in a row. As her character (Princess Peach, natch) was crowned, she turned to watch him splutter, eyes wide.

Finally, he just pointed, making a wheezing sound. “You…”

She took her shot first, nearly coughing at the overwhelming peppermint flavor, before turning her whole body to him. “Strip, loser,” she ordered with a smirk. “And, in case you don’t believe me…” Brave off the half-bottle of wine and the shot, she lifted her leg to splay it along the back of the sofa, confirming for him that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath her skirt. Laughing at the awestruck look on his face she returned to facing the telly, tucking her knees primly together. “I held up my end of the bargain…”

Coming back to life, he shook his head in disgust. “You’re not playing fair.” He whipped his shirt off, revealing his lovely muscular chest, and her knees squeezed together just a bit tighter.

“Well, lose quicker then, so we can go to bed.”

He didn’t win a single race after that, but an hour later, flat on his back on his living room floor wearing only a single sock, with a sticky and sweaty Rose collapsed on his chest, he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“I love Christmas.”

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #31 Days of Ficmas #31 Days of Ficmas 2018 #ficandchips #Doctor Who #TenxRose #Tenth Doctor #Human!Ten #Rose Tyler #A Muppet Family Christmas #holiday movies #Cosier With You Universe

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years ago

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1056.

5k Survey LXXVIII

4001. How would you rate your sex drive? >> I wouldn’t “rate” it? I don’t keep tabs on it or anything, it comes and goes at will. 4002. You are sitting alone with a stack of videos and a vcr. Of the following which are you most likely to puut on (1 is most, 10 is least) The good the bad and the ugly, - 5 dracula, - 2 slc punk, - 6 twin peaks fire walk with me, - 1 jerry springer too hot for tv, - definitely not in the running singing in the rain, - 7 flash gordon, - not in the running the matrix, - 4 blade runner, - 3 the muppet movie - not in the running 4003. Are you more likely to get or send random instant messages? >> Neither? 4004. If you were writing an ad telling people to come to your town what would you say about it? >> You lost me at “if you were writing an ad”. 4005. What part of your body can you not stand to get an itch on? >> Any part I can’t easily scratch, of course.

4006. How many people do you suppose have stolen that System of a Down album called 'steal this album'? >> I don’t know. 4007. Name a band you like: What are/were this band's roots and influences? >> I don’t know the roots and influences of bands. 4008. would you rather have a poster of john lennon or a cute fuzzy black cat? >> I’m not interested in either of these posters. I’d rather have a bare wall. 4009. make a public service announcement: >> No. 4010. What makes you feel the need to escape? >> My own brain. 4011. You and your signifigant other, crush, interest etc...who is the ernie and who is the bert? >> --- 4012. When was the last time you did something and later asked yourself 'did I do the right thing?'? >> I don’t remember. 4013. What do you find it hard to say goodbye to? >> Er... 4014. What is your fantasy valentine's day like? >> I don’t have a fantasy for Valentine’s Day. 4015. If you had to have a color for a name, what color would it be? >> --- 4016. Should preference be given to minority students during the college admission process? >> You know, I’ve read a lot of arguments for and against affirmative action over the years, and while I see where multiple sides are coming from, I think that the most important thing to me would be people of all backgrounds being given opportunity. And since this country has proven time and time again that when left to its own devices, it will let systems of privilege and oppression stand without contest, there needs to be a check-and-balance system in place. Which, in this case, would be affirmative action. It’s awkward and has its own ramifications, but it provides opportunity where there was none (or hardly any) before, and I think it opens the door for further discussions and adaptations.

4017. Sweet wine, fresh crisp appples, bagles with creme cheese and lox...what is the most incredibly luxurious food? >> I’m not sure. 4018. Is there really anything to fear in communism? >> ???? 4019. Best sesame street character: most annoying sesame street character: >> --- 4020. feast or famine? >> Wh... I mean, which one do you think I’d choose??? 4021. Write a poem right here in five minutes or less: >> No. 4022. Do you stay and help clean up after a party? >> At someone else’s place? No. 4023. Why was the teddy bear named after teddy roosevelt? >> As far as I’m aware, it’s because some guy saw the bears at a World’s Fair or something and bought a bunch of them to use as promotions for Roosevelt’s campaign. If I’m wrong, there’s always your friendly neighbourhood search engine to clear it up for you. 4024. What are you the prince or princess of? >> I am the Red Prince, inheritor of the Tower and doom of the White! Thank you for asking. 4025. Some people think that Christmas should be taken off of public school calanders because it is politically incorrect. What aould you say to this? >> I don’t know what that means, so I would have to ask for clarification about Christmas’ political incorrectness. Personally, I think more holidays should be added, for students of different cultures and religions, and some of the “American civic religion” type holidays like Presidents’ Day and shit should probably be removed. That’d balance it out. 4026. Would you rather go to an exorcism or a step aerobics class? >> First of all, those are completely different events, so it’d depend on what kind of experience I was looking to have. And whether I felt like exercising. Which I usually do not. 4027. Do you believe in spells and curses? >> Do I think that spells and curses work? Sure, somehow. I mean, people do them for a reason... 4028. What tv show does your family watch together? >> --- 4029. What's on your calander this year? >> Dates? 4030. Is anything ruining your life? What? >> No. 4031. How was life meant to be lived? >> --- 4032. What is your usual breakfast? >> A Morningstar veggie burger and chips. 4033. If you had kids, would you worry about what they did online? >> Of course I’d worry. 4034. Will you be maxin and relaxin this weekend? If not, what are your weekend plans? >> It’s Monday, man, I have no idea what’s going to happen next weekend aside from the usual. 4035. Who has the most interesting story to tell: someone who used to fly to asia as a drug trader the ceo of Nike a nyc homeless person a preacher's wife >> I was a homeless person in NYC and I think my stories are plenty interesting. Regardless, I think most (if not all) people have interesting stories to tell, if one is willing to listen. 4036. What do you have a bad feeling about? >> I am not having a bad feeling at this very moment so I would like to keep it that way. 4037. Do you have a lot to say? >> I don’t know. Do I? 4038. If a smallpox vaccine was offered to you, would you take it? >> ??? Don’t we get those as children? I’m confused. 4039. Would you ever work at a kissing booth? how about a dunking booth? >> No. 4040. There is a woman who paints by stripping naked, rolling around in paint and then pressing her body against the canvas. What do you think of her art? >> That’s pretty neat. 4041. Have you ever bought something you saw on tv? >> Like, on an infomercial? No. 4042. Name a relative: that relative dies unexpectedly. On the same day 9/11 happens. You can either bring back your relative or bring back 1/2 the people who dies on 9/11. What do you do? >> --- 4043. Have you gone mental? >> Frequently. 4044. What do you think of jews for jesus? >> I’m not sure what to think, since according to some reports they’re not even Jews, but Christians masquerading as such in order to convert Jews (or undermine the “official” Jewish stance on Christ being a cool dude but not the Messiah). Which is pretty messed up, in my opinion. But if a Jewish person interprets their holy texts in such a way that they wish to adopt Christ as the Messiah, then I’d imagine that’s their business. 4045. Has anyone ever tried to 'save' you? >> Evangelical Christian style? Yeah, plenty of times. Fortunately, I seem to be immune to that particular sort of manipulation. 4046. Quick! picture santa clause in your head... Was he black or white when you pictured him? >> White. All Santa is good Santa and of course as a Black person I’m definitely interested in Black Santa, but almost all of my visual references up until now have been white. 4047. Would you ever buy a black santa clause? >> I mean, duh??? Also, we have a Black angel for our Christmas tree; they’d go together perfectly. 4048. or take your kids to vist a black santa clause? why or why not? >> --- 4049. What do you smell like? >> Right now, I smell like jojoba and lavender and opium oil (and tea tree oil, on my head) because I just showered and moisturised. It’s very nice. 4050. What kind of soup do you eat? >> I don’t usually go for soup. But last night I had chicken and wild rice soup because Sparrow made it for her meal prep this week, and it was pretty damn good.

#surveys #survey #5000 question survey #not for reblogging *glare*

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madphantom · 5 years ago

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The Sound of Life - Chapter 13

During that time they also spent a few days on the set of Phantom. Jessica Harper, who played Phoenix, showed them around. William Finley was busy with his headaches. Winslow met him in the cafeteria where the actor was sitting with an ice pack on his head. He was wearing the leather outfit, but no make-up and his hair was messy.

"Hi," Winslow greeted him.

"Hi," William replied with a weak smile. "Jeez, how did you survive that helmet?! It's killing me!"

Winslow laughed. "I didn't really pay attention to that."

William chuckled. "I can imagine that." He put the ice pack down and sighed. "So, how you been doing?"

"Quite well. I met Michael Jackson a while ago."

William raised his eyebrows. "Really? Awesome."

"And you?"

"Yeah, well, most of the time I've been shooting the stuff here." William laughed. "I hope I'll get it right. I tend to act rather dramatically."

"Well, I am drama in person, so don't worry about that." Winslow grinned. "What are you guys shooting today?"

"The Beef scene. Kinda controversial stuff."

Winslow raised an eyebrow.

"Of course we're all rooting for you, man," William quickly assured him.

Winslow smiled. "I haven't met your Beef yet. What's his name?"

"Oh, it's Gerrit. Gerrit Graham. Funny guy." William laughed. "The cast gave him the plunger as a Christmas present. We painted it gold."

Winslow laughed as well. "A golden plunger?! How many times did you shove that thing in his face during the shower scene?"

A smile spread on William's face. "Six times."

"Six times?!" Winslow laughed. "Oh dear."

"It was a lot of fun."

"Oh, I believe that." Winslow chuckled.

The door opened and Phoenix and Jessica came in. Phoenix was holding Melody.

"A baby!", William squealed as soon as he spotted them.

"You mean me or Leach Junior?", Jessica asked.

"The cuter one."

"That would be me," Phoenix said and sat down next to Winslow. She smiled. "Hi William. Cool costume."

"Thanks."

"You look like my Pa," Melody said.

William laughed. "I hope so!"

The door opened and another actor walked in.

"Hi Gerrit!", Jessica greeted him and Winslow turned around.

Gerrit did not quite look like Beef, but Winslow was secretly happy about that. He wasn't sure whether someone who actually looked the same wouldn't have triggered something in him.

"Stay away from me, I'm having a cold!", Gerrit announced. "Hi Mr Leach, Mrs Leach. I'm Gerrit Graham."

"Hi."

"Brian asked me to tell you guys to buy some junk food."

Jessica jumped up and did a little chicken dance. "Junk food night!"

"Hyping us up before the Life at Last scene," Gerrit explained.

"Sounds like Brian," William laughed.

"Put on your shoes, Will, we're going shopping!", Jessica yelled.

What followed was a bizarre scene that could have been straight from a comedy movie. The cast, still in their costumes, and the Leaches marched out of the Majestic. People turned around in surprise. Somebody yelled "Hey, look, it's Winslow Leach!" He signed a couple autographs and the squad entered the supermarket. They marched straight into the candy aisle.

Five minutes later they left with five bags full of crisps, popcorn, chocolate and cookies.

They watched the final product a couple weeks later in a small room with a projector at Paul Hirsch's. Melody was at Lucy's. Phoenix and Winslow didn't think the movie would be suitable for a seven year old. Brian brought popcorn. Gerrit brought Pepsi. They all sat down comfortably and Paul Hirsch clicked play.

The movie started with a narration about Swan read by Rod Serling. Winslow raised an eyebrow. "Wow. You actually got the guy to do this?"

"He loved it," Brian replied.

The black background with the white bird then faded into the Juicy Fruits performing Goodbye Eddie Goodbye. It was obvious they were enjoying themselves a lot. Winslow had a good laugh at William's face in the poster scene.

"The Juicy Winslow Leach at the piano," Phoenix commented and the crew laughed.

The movie proceeded with Philbin and Swan discussing some evil plan in their box.

"I actually have no idea what they were talking about," Winslow noted. "Might as well have been the weather."

"Probably not," Jeffrey commented.

Everyone agreed that the shot with the camera circling around William playing the piano was great. They had a good laugh about his dramatic headbanging.

"I was lucky my glasses didn't fly off," the actor chuckled.

The next scene was Philbin stealing Winslow's music. George Memmoli played his part really well. And Winslow laughed like crazy at the way William pushed "Philbin" against the wall and the sound of shattering glass in the background.

What followed was Winslow being thrown out of Death Records. Brian complained about the Swan Song fiasco with Led Zeppelin. Then came the scene in which Winslow met Phoenix. Both leaned forward.

"This is gonna be interesting," Phoenix commented. This was followed by a "Jessie, your singing is amazing, by the way."

"Thanks," Jessica smiled.

"Your chemistry is on top," Winslow noted during the scene. "Ten of ten."

Phoenix laughed at Jessica's confused face after William flashed her with "I would never let my personal desires influence my aesthetic judgement". "Yes, I probably looked like that!"

"You did," Winslow confirmed.

Later they had another good laugh at William in a flower dress trying to sneak in. "I wish I'd witnessed that happening!", Harold yelled. Then Paul appeared.

Winslow was honestly impressed. The friendly little man had perfectly embodied Swan. This guy who was frequently referred to as the Human Muppet had captured the evil spirit like he'd been destined to play Swan. Winslow shivered. He wasn't the only one.

"Was that really acting?", Archie asked.

"Hopefully," Jeffrey mumbled.

"I don't want to know what ancient evils we unleashed," Harold said.

Paul just laughed. "Who knows."

The next scene was the cops finding a beaten up Winslow. This was followed by William dramatically yelling into the camera that he was innocent.

"That was brilliant," Winslow commented. "Perfectly on point!"

"You have no idea how many shots this face took me," William replied.

Next up came some evil little man announcing that Winslow's teeth would be pulled. The real Winslow bared his teeth and pulled a werewolf number which caused some giggles.

The scene then faded into Winslow's escape from Sing Sing prison. William quickly told an anecdote about all the times the scene with the box had gone wrong while Winslow's on-screen counterpart raged through Death Records.

Winslow knew what was coming up now and so did Phoenix. He suddenly felt her hand in his and turned his head a little to see her giving him a little reassuring smile. He was well aware that she was afraid that the following scene would trigger something in him.

It didn't. William saved the day. As soon as he realized what a bomb was about to hit he burst out dramatically explaining how the scene had almost gone wrong and how he almost became Winslow's "Exact Doppelganger". Winslow objectively admired William's remarkable acting skills and secretly wondered why the actor wasn't famous yet.

The next scene caused Brian to explain why the split screen he'd used was a stroke of genius. The crew listened in amusement until the bomb exploded.

Next up came a bit with Swan in his office and then Winslow confronting him. The height difference between William and Paul was utterly hilarious. The scene was followed by Jessica singing Special to me for the audition. Everyone marveled at how similar her voice was to Phoenix'.

Then came the scene in which Swan adjusted Winslow's voice box and made Winslow sign the contract. Next up Paul singing Phantom's Theme with montages of William and Jessica with a black background. It looked wonderfully dramatic.

The next trigger came up now. It was Beef.

Thanks to the fact that Gerrit didn't look quite exactly like Beef Winslow relaxed again. However, he had to admit that accent and attitude were on point. Gerrit blushed when he told him.

There was the epic scream scene which caused Winslow's to have a laughing flash at the drama of William's acting. During the shower scene Gerrit mentioned that he did not recommend snorting powdered lactose. His acting in that scene and the next one were hilarious. Then Harold performed Somebody Super Like You followed by Life at Last and during Life at Last Winslow excused himself for a few minutes and left to prevent himself from getting a panic attack. He came back in to George Memmoli yelling "Somebody get a fire extinguisher!" and thoroughly enjoyed the Old Souls and dressing room scene, as well as the first rooftop scene. During the second rooftop scene Phoenix wrapped herself around Winslow, who made it a point to marvel at William's acting and compliment him on it until the actor was blushing.

What followed was Paul confronting William. Again everyone was crazed at how this human muppet played Swan. Then came the tape room and the wedding, and after a very dramatic death scene for Swan they got the ending which was slightly differing from reality: Winslow's death.

Phoenix laughed at how Jessica managed to look so desperate. "I just thought of school," Jessica commented. Winslow was delighted by the dramatic ending scene with the flaming bird sealing William's doom. "Awesome. Perfect. Like, really perfect. Great job."

"Release?", Brian asked.

"Hell yeah, release!"

8 notes · View notes

ieatsurveys · 2 years ago

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52.

Do you like McDonald's sprite? Yes, I can't eat my meal without McDonald's Sprite. It's a weird quirk of mine.

What age did you start becoming more independent? I'm still not as independent as I had hoped to be. My car got totaled, so I rely on my parents for rides.

How do you like your oatmeal? I don't eat oatmeal.

Do you ever just dance around the house? On occasion.

List 5 things you need to do soon. 1. Get ready for interviews. 2. Do dishes. 3. Clean bathroom. 4. Apply to more jobs. 5. Take a shower.

What do you do when you start to feel sad? Lay in bed for the entirety of the day if I don't have anything to do.

Have you ever been to a metal concert? Nope.

Do you like metal? Some.

What's your favorite Christmas movie? A Muppet's Christmas Carol.

What about Halloween movie? Don't have one.

Do you like the taste of cilantro? I sure don't.

Have you ever busted a window accidentally? Nope.

Do you remember those Bratz dolls? What were your favorite dolls? I remember them, I never owned one.

What was the last thing to bum you out? Continued existence--> Yep.

Name a song that reminds you of summertime. Anything by hellogoodbye.

Do you enjoy apples? Crunchy ones, yes.

Have you ever made apple butter? Do you like it? I have never made any type of butter in my lifetime.

Do you own any pocket knives? I don't.

On a scale of 1-10...How happy are you and why? Today is sunny out, so my mood reflects it. Probably an 8.

Do you think diamonds are overrated? I don't really have an opinion on them.

How many languages can you greet somebody in? A few.

Do you have a favorite planet? No.

Do you know how to play the flute? No.

What do you enjoy putting in your smoothies? I don't drink smoothies.

What's a medication that has really helped you? Abilify.

Do you forgive easily? No.

Have you ever broken up with somebody? Yes.

What was the biggest phase you went through when you were younger? Emo/punk.

Is there something you've been hiding from someone? Uh, probably.

Do you believe in demons? Yes.

Have you ever seen a spider consume another spider? No. I didn't even know that happens.

What's your favorite fruit? Grapes.

Do you ever go clubbing? No. I went a couple of times. The first time I liked it, but the second time, I hated it.

Have you ever been to a church camp? Yes.

Have you ever accidentally swallowed something you shouldn't have? Probably.

Last book you remember enjoying? Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers.

When was the last time you got scared? I don't remember.

Have you ever seen a boy band live? Yes.

When was the last time you drank water? About an hour ago.

Have you ever been dehydrated? Sure have.

Have you ever shot a gun? A paintball gun.

Do you use Facebook? Too much.

Would you say you're well educated on religious topics? Not so much.

What's the longest you have walked at once? I don't remember.

Do you ever take those Buzzfeed quizzes? Not at all. I used to, though.

How long was your last phone call? Less than a minute.

Are there a box of tissues on your bedside table? Nope.

Have you cut your hair recently? No, but I am in serious need of a haircut. But, #depression.

Do you like skittles? I do. The regular kind.

What is your favorite kind of cheeto? (spicy, regular, puffs.. etc.) Regular.

Do you have a skin care routine? I could be better.

Do you know how to write in cursive? Yep.

What's the closest thing to you that is pink? My notebook.

Have you ever watched a black and white film? Yes.

Did you use to read Dr. Seuss books as a kid? My favorite kids author of all time.

What's the longest you've had to wait in line for something? I don't even remember, maybe an hour or two.

What's the sickest you've ever been? When I had food poisoning.

If you had to be named after an inanimate object, what would you choose? I don't know. I've never given much thought to that.

What is one food you would not like to give up? Tacos or pizza. It's a toss up.

Would you ever donate a kidney to a stranger if applicable? Yes.

How many scars do you have? I used to be a cutter and was shocked that the scars faded away. I haven't cut in 3 years.

Do you have any unusual things wrong with your body? (I have different length arms and hands for example) Nope, just fat ;) haha. What did you last have to eat? Egg sandwich.

When was the last time you visited a carnival? Not since high school. I miss them.

Do you own a pair of those socks with toes? Absolutely not.

What age did you stop trick or treating? I never went.

What's the best flavor of popsicle? That's a tough one.

Are you caught up on laundry? I just did a load. Just need to fold and put it away.

Does your car tend to get super messy like mine? I no longer have a car :( Gah, I miss it so much.

What search engine do you use? Google.

Have you ever had a flat tire? Nope.

Do you know what ginseng looks like? No.

When is the next time you have to go grocery shopping? Next week.

0 notes

ifourmindbeso · 7 years ago

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A very, very Merry Christmas

Anonymous asked: Dear Bering and Wellser, I am your secret Santa. What is your dearest wish for this lovely season? I can provide fic of a fluffy or angsty flavour, and will endeavour to write to any prompt you might like to give. Ho, ho, and additionally, ho. Santa ;)

Hey there, Santa — Every year I keep hoping I won’t need to say “please, no angst; the world’s angsty enough as it is”… but every year, here we are again, surrounded by upheaval and uncertainty. As for a prompt, then, what I’ll tell you is that the brilliant poet Mary Ruefle once titled an essay “Someone Reading a Book Is a Sign of Order in the World.” Interpret that idea, or whatever constellation of ideas it represents, as you prefer… or ignore it completely and go with mistletoe! Menorahs! Mangers! It doesn’t matter to me, as long as it’s Bering and Wells. And anyway, I’m already grateful to you, whichever nerdsbian you are, for being a part of this tenacious little fandom. This little fandom that is so big-hearted: it’s a gift in itself.

Merry Christmas, Bering and Wellsers, and to you, the lovely @apparitionism. This piece starts with the prompt above, but quickly goes off in a direction of hopelessly ridiculous. I don’t know where the inspiration for this came from, but part of it was definitely an illustration from the lovely @foxfire141 on tumblr. I asked if she would consider drawing something for this piece, and she provided the delightful illustration that, if I have done this right, should appear in the appropriate spot in the story. I have to thank her for her incredible work on this, and for her incredible talent. It has added to this piece in a way that I couldn't have imagined.

This is a sort-of sequel to my previous fic, ‘Aye, Zombie’. If you haven’t read it, you probably need to know that the Myka in this fic (and Claudia, Pete and Artie) grew up in Belfast, Northern Ireland. Myka is somewhat foul-mouthed but has a good heart, despite her somewhat questionable past. Helena is the HG Wells, who came forward in time because Mrs Frederic told her that Christina would die if she didn’t. Christina consequently lived to old age. I think that’s all you need to know, but you could always go back and read Aye,Zombie, if you fancy some unintelligible Irish-isms and questionable humour.

Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race. HG Wells

“Now, you see, love. That’s what I don’t get. You wrote that thing about the bicycles, not Charlie, right?”

“Yes,” she said, patiently.

“So your great words to the world are that when you see someone on a bicycle, that gives you hope for the future of the human race? What about seeing someone with a book? Surely that is the thing that makes you think that, all right, maybe we aren’t going to explode in a nuclear apocalypse or die from extreme weather caused by global warming. Because people read, and they learn.”

“Well, I suppose I see what you mean,” she said, thoughtfully, looking far too fucking adorable in my opinion, “but a bicycle is a statement all of its own. It means that the person riding it prefers to travel under their own steam. Whether it’s for personal fitness, for the feel of the wind in their face, for the sake of the planet – it’s usually a good reason. A book – well, it can mean a multitude of things. If the book is the bible, well, I’m sorry to say it, but the person reading it could be wonderful, or they could be terrible. Christians come in all sorts of flavours. Evil being the one we’ve seen the most of throughout history. The book could be Mein Kampf. And again, the person reading it could be studying it, to learn about history so as not to repeat it, or they could be reading it to repeat history. Do you see what I mean?”

I looked at her, and I think my jaw fell open a little. After years of marriage – an idea I would have laughed about only a few years back – she still managed to surprise me.

“Do close your mouth dear, you look like a frog that someone’s trodden on,” she said, fondly.

I rolled my eyes. We might be in the 21st century, but my Helena was one of a kind. Victorian to the core. I expected her to say ‘spit spot’ and ‘chop chop’ at times, and then remembered that was just one of my fantasies. (I mean, Julie Andrews is hot, whether she’s in her twenties or her seventies.)

“Are you ready?” Helena asked, as we got onto the plane.

“I’m fine,” I said, scowling slightly. I hated travelling at the best of times, but flights like this – commercial flights – were the worst. You had no control, you were corralled like animals, you were shot if you moved an inch out of place… okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but it certainly felt that way. I could feel the watchful eyes of the air marshal on me and the other passengers. Thank Christ we were in First Class. At least that gave me enough room to stretch out and the attendants tended to be a bit more polite. Mrs Frederic had agreed to ship me first class after the first flight when things had gone a bit… haywire because of PTSD. But sure I’m fine now. Honest.

I drained a glass of Bushmills before we even took off our coats.

The retrieval we were going on was a simple one. People in Flippin, Arkansas were turning into their favourite foods. Like walking, talking muppet puppets in the shape of fries or a bowl of their favourite soup or a walking burger. Pete and I had arm-wrestled for this retrieval. I won, but I promised I’d take lots of pictures.

Sometimes life in the Warehouse made sense. Sometimes it really didn’t, and you had to take advantage of those times, I thought, because otherwise you would take it all too seriously and go batshit crazy.

I drank a few more shots of Bushmills, studiously ignoring Helena dropping a sleeping pill into one of them. She seemed to think that the ‘B A Baracus’ approach was the best way to get me from A to B safely. She might have been right. I had dreams about dancing ice cream cones and that time we all burst into song because of an artefact. It was not pleasant, I can assure you. Helena Wells, despite her many fine qualities, is entirely tone deaf, and Pete sounds like a bullfrog when he tries to sing. Thankfully the rest of us managed to drown them out in the ensemble pieces, but their solo pieces were… ugh.

I woke to Helena gently shaking me awake, touching my left shoulder. We had come up with a code after a few too many attempted punches of her poor face. She had great reflexes, though, and I’d never actually landed a punch on her. Left shoulder meant everything’s fine. Right shoulder meant there was trouble and to grab weapons. Anywhere else on my body – that meant it wasn’t her, or anyone else I trusted.

I wiped my face with a wet wipe before retrieving my bag from the locker and I filed out dutifully with the rest of the cattle. Our Secret Service badges got us past the security on the other end quickly, a fact for which I was grateful. Who wants to be stuck in an airport a few days before Christmas with the entire human race crowded around you? Nobody, that’s who. The entire place smelled like feet.

“Shall we check in first before we go to find our walking foodstuffs, darling?” she asked, and I was once again struck by her other-ness. She was a part of this century now, but a walking anachronism at the same time. When I met her she did a great impersonation of a human from this century, but since we became a partnership, she didn’t seem to want to hide her true self as much. I liked that, a lot.

“We should check in,” I said, wearily. “I hate travelling love, why can’t you invent a transporter? You said you made a shrink ray, didn’t you?”

“I did, but making a teleportation device is somewhat of a challenge, even for someone with my intellect. If you do as they do in your Star Wars, you disperse someone’s molecules and send them somewhere else with the aid of some unknown force. But are those people still themselves when they come out the other end? One misplaced atom could turn you into a yeti, darling, and I really don’t think our wedding vows would cover that sort of mishap. I can handle a certain amount of body hair, but that’s just a little too much for my tastes.”

I made a harrumphing noise at her, and we made our way by cab to the hotel, which was the usual Warehouse style – small but clean, close to town but not in the centre. The check-in took approximately a week and a half, or so it seemed to my somewhat grumpy self, but as soon as we had keys, we dumped our bags off, showered quickly and changed, and went to find our victims. I brought my digital camera - for purely professional reasons.

“Agent Bering, Agent Wells. It’s a pleasure to have you here in our little corner of the world.” It was the Sheriff, the fella who’d called for help with this bizarre phenomenon. He got us, ‘Secret Service’ agents.

“I didn’t like that Flippin airport much,” I said, in my best vaguely-American accent. He laughed loudly.

“You got a great sense of humour, Agent,” he said, thumbs tucked into his belt-loops, his impressive belly jiggling as he laughed. He looked a bit like Santa Claus, but without the beard.

“So, this is the weirdest thing we’ve ever seen, even in a town with a name like Flippin,” he said, scratching his head under his Sheriff hat thingie. “The weirdest thing that’s happened here is when Jerry Dorsey married his future mother-in-law instead of his bride-to-be, and that was like, thirty years ago.

“When did it start, Sheriff?” Helena asked smoothly, not bothering to try to disguise her accent. Her American accent was terrible, so I was relieved.

“You aren’t from the States?” he asked, frowning. “I thought Secret Service had to be ‘Murican.”

“I’m a special liaison from Scotland Yard,” Helena said, lying through her teeth. “Emily Lake, at your service.”

He smiled at that, tipping his hat.

“A pleasure, Ma’am. We don’t get many of the President’s people down here, so I’ll admit to a little scepticism when I saw you were coming. As to when it started, well, Billy McIntyre turned into a doughnut about… 3 days ago. Every day since, we’ve had three or four people try to come into the station. As if we can help them. I mean, how am I supposed to turn a doughnut into a human?”

“They tried to get into the station?” I asked, intrigued.

“You ever seen a six-foot wide doughnut try to walk through an ordinary doorway? Funniest damn thing I ever saw,” he said, letting out a high-pitched giggle that startled me so much I almost shot him. As it was, I stared at him, trying to work out what the fuck the noise was.

“It does sound very amusing,” Helena said, in her rich voice, touching his arm to distract him from my confused, startled face. “Now, Sheriff… Adams, was it? Could you take us to the victims, please? And then we’ll visit the local eateries to see what each person ate in the days before their… um, metamorphosis.”

“Of course,” he said, smiling at her. She was always a charmer, my Helena. I don’t know how she did it, but she charmed the knickers off anyone who looked at her for more than a few minutes. The only person I’d ever met who was even a little bit immune was Mrs Frederic, and even she had a soft spot for Helena, though she wouldn’t admit it.

I had to seriously get a hold of myself when we stepped into the sheriff’s station. We stepped into a back room, where I assumed they did their morning briefings. There were a variety of people there, all looking like they were wearing costumes of their favourite foods. Unfortunately, those people were the costumes. There was a man in the corner who was the 6ft-wide doughnut, and a woman in front of me (I assumed, because the muppet was wearing lipstick) who was a box of fries from a burger restaurant. And a dude who was a large bowl of phō, which I found even more hilarious than the others, because every time he moved, he spilled the contents of the ‘bowl’ everywhere.

We had chicken and waffles, an egg salad sandwich (and Jesus, that fucker must have been the dullest) and a tall man who looked like chunks of tofu with sesame seeds on it. It seemed even the vegans weren’t immune to the effects.

I kept what I thought was an admirably straight face as we questioned the food-people. No-one had been to the same place – that would have been too easy – but they had all eaten at various restaurants and fast-food haunts during the past week, so we made a list and split up, checking each one with artefact spray to see if anything reacted. I got strange looks from people at the diner and the Vietnamese place, and I’m sure Helena did at the burger restaurant and the large dining section at the mall. But when we met later that afternoon, we had nothing. Nada. Niente. Bubkiss. Or as we say in Belfast, fuck all.

“For the love of Christ,” I sighed. “How long are we going to be doing this? I’m fucking starving, and I don’t want to eat anything in case I turn into a giant Chicken parm sub.”

Believe me, I have no desire to become a walking kale salad,” Helena said, sighing in that long-suffering way of hers. “But we have to get to the bottom of this. It hasn’t had any negative effects as such, or at least not yet, but it could. What if one of them gets too hungry and tries to eat another? What if they really taste of the food they’re… sporting?”

“That could get a bit… unfortunate,” I said, my mind drifting back to when Helena and I met, against the background of a civil war and a zombie invasion. Sure it sounds romantic now, but when you watch your neighbours eating each other’s children, it’s… not so much.

“To say the very least,” Helena said.

We went back to the sheriff’s station and talked to the people some more, jotting down dozens of different locations, places they’d visited, people they’d seen. It was a small place, Flippin, with less than 2000 residents, so those places overlapped. A lot.

“We should go to each location and rule them out one by one,” Helena said, studiously arranging them in geographical order.

“Should we split up, or go together?” I asked.

“Together is safer, but apart means we cover more ground. My thought is that we do it apart, because things aren’t exactly dangerous. Or at least not yet.”

I nodded. We took each other’s hands for a moment, squeezing, just for comfort, and then we split up.

I went to visit the local DMV office, the postal office, a home depot-type store, and a general store. There was no dice. Nothing unusual, other than that the town was still called Flippin. Oh, and they reckoned they were a city. There were 17 thousand people in the tiny section of Belfast that I lived in when I was younger. That was a real city, and not even a big one. Flippin was not a city. Americans, am I right?

I got back to the sheriff’s station and was informed that two more people had shown up. One was a man who had turned into a roast chicken. His face was on the breast side, startled eyes with giant muppet eyelashes fluttering in confusion. He must have been balding in his human guise, because there was a ratty crown of hair that went slightly more than halfway around the body of the chicken. I took down the details of where he’d been, doing my best not to laugh, and then interviewed the other person, a woman who had become a hamburger. It was hard as fuck not to laugh at that poor girl, because her top lip was a slice of cheese, and her bottom lip was a burger. Both of which had lipstick on them, in case we should accidentally mistake the walking burger for a male walking burger. She was trying not to panic, and every little breath made her cheese lip flutter in the wind, and made me have to fake a coughing fit because I was dying.

I took some photographs, for want of something better to do, and married up each food-person with their human photographs, sending it all back to Claudia. For professional reasons only, I assure you. And then I started to worry, because Helena had less ground to cover than I did, and she was nowhere to be seen.

I called her phone, but there was no answer. I did start to get a bit worried, then, so I called Claudia on my Farnsworth.

“Hey, Sir Mykes-a-lot. How’s it going there in crazytown?” It was nice to hear another Irish accent, I will admit. The Warehouse has four of us, but it’s rare to meet the Irish while out and about in the field. I mean, I’ve met those who claim to be Irish, but 23 generations back doesn’t count. Especially not if you can’t pronounce your own name. (I’m talking to you, Ni-am.)

“I’m grand, darling,” I said, rubbing the spot between my eyebrows. “My fair lady has disappeared though, and you know it’s not like her to not answer when I call.”

Claudia’s eyes narrowed. She did indeed know that Helena wouldn’t make me worry unnecessarily.

“Let me track her,” she said, already typing away furiously.

There was a silence, and I got a little alarmed, I will admit. But then she spoke, her forehead all crinkled up.

“She’s in town. Heading your way, actually. But the signal… it’s like it’s there, but it’s not? It’s almost transparent. There’s no setting in my system for something to show up transparent. I call magical hijinks, Mykster. She’s heading up main street now; should be with you in a minute.”

I nodded.

“Thanks, kiddo. See you soon,” I said. I made a mental note to buy her something tasteless before I left town. I was pretty sure somewhere like Flippin would have some really tasteless tourist shite. My favourite thing Claudka had bought me was a Hillary Clinton lighter, where Hill’s head flipped back and flames came out of her neck. I had managed to get her a Pope Pez dispenser in a little Catholic shop in a town near the border, and was still trying to top it.

I went to the door of the station, peering out into the dark. There was a figure approaching, but it didn’t look like Helena. It didn’t look human. I took a deep breath, my heart thundering in my ears. It stepped closer, and then into the light of a streetlamp. It was… a hot dog. A walking, presumably talking, hot dog. Another unfortunate victim, I assumed, looking around behind it for Helena.

As it put its weird muppet feet on the first step up to the station, I noticed that it was a girl. Due to the ketchup in the shape of a mouth. And the long hair that covered about a third of the length of the dog. The poor girl had huge brown eyes, and dark eyebrows drawn into a scowl, and then she stepped closer.

“I swear to all that’s holy, if you laugh at me, we are getting a divorce,” my wife said, muppet eyelashes fluttering in annoyance.

I am not proud to say that I immediately laughed.

I had to be lifted from the floor by two burly sheriff’s deputies, who kindly carried me to the bathroom. I was laughing so hard that I was close to losing control of my bladder. Even as I was sitting on the loo, I was still laughing so hard that I pulled two muscles, one on my back and the other on my abdomen. Tears streamed down my face and I howled with pain, but still I laughed. It took me forty-five minutes to stop myself from laughing, and even then, I started again each time I saw my own face in the mirror. Eventually I was calm enough to send a message to Claudia.

“SOS. Helena is hot-dog. Helena pretended her favourite food was kale salad. I may need an artefact to be sent that takes away my ability to laugh. Divorce proceedings imminent.”

I made my way out of the bathroom a little while later, finding the muppet version of my wife talking to Sheriff Adams. She was trying to coax him into doing something, I thought, because her stubby little muppet hand was on his arm and her giant muppet eyelashes were all a-flutter.

I beat a hasty retreat into a nearby office until I calmed my hysterics.

The second attempt was no more successful. I thought of the saddest things I’d ever seen, tried to turn myself into a PTSD-haunted robot by thinking about things I’d done in my past, but still… muppet Helena took me down effortlessly.

Eventually I was able to speak to her without laughing (much) and we determined that there were two places where she might have been caught up in the artefact’s effects. I continued to say ‘artefact’s effects’ after that because each time I said the words ‘food muppets’ she glared, and she looked even funnier than she already did.

Hot-dog Helena had onions and mustard down one side of the sausage. I don’t know why that made me laugh harder, but it did.

I fled the station, delighted beyond measure to be able to leave my wife’s side. I could not control myself, and I knew that I was skating close to the edge of divorce and/or death by muppet smothering. I kept breaking out in hysterical little bouts of giggling, and I knew I must have looked a sight, the tall Secret Service agent who occasionally starting cry-laughing over her muppet wife.

I visited the seedy side of Flippin, finding a small illegal casino-type operation that Helena had visited, and used the artefact spray to douse everything that didn’t move. And some that did. Nothing sparked. The next stop was the town hall, where a number of people on the list seemed to have been. I visited the mayor, a young attractive redhead, who urged me to leave a Christmas wish in the jar on her desk. Something tugged at me, then, because one thing I have learned as a Warehouse agent is that wishes have power. I sprayed the jar with the goo-spray, and it sparked. It sparked a lot. I grabbed the thing, relieved, and thanked the Mayor, who looked at me in confusion when I told her I needed to take it away, for National Security reasons. I swear, you could poke someone in the eye in this country and say it was for National Security, and they’d ask you to do it again.

I brought the jar back to the station, walking along absently, giggling occasionally to myself, when I suddenly realised that I was… different. My arms seemed shorter, and… yes. There was something dripping from behind me.

Now before you get all gross, there was a trail of marinara sauce behind me, mixed with cheese. Mozzarella, a little cheddar, and parmesan. When I tried to look down, I couldn’t. My eyes were widely spaced, I’d realised, and my mouth was way further from my eyes than it used to be.

So, I was a walking chicken parmigiana sub. Because unlike some alleged kale-lovers, I told the truth about my favourite food.

I sighed, trying to take my phone from my pocket, but my pocket was gone, under a pile of bread, I had to assume. I had an urge to try and pull some of the bread off and eat it, because I smelled really nice. But then I thought… there’s always a downside. And how do you explain that you’re missing a limb or a rib because you ate part of yourself when you were a sandwich?

I knocked on the door of the station, and a startled deputy let me in. He managed to keep his face straight, to his credit.

“Can you grab me my kit from the other room, son?” I asked him, vaguely aware that I had a bouncing crown of curls that had just drifted into my eyeline as I moved. I wondered exactly how ridiculous I looked, and stood there, waiting. The young man came back, his face purple, and I asked if he would take out the goo cannister.

Before I dunked the jar, I asked him to take a picture of me. I’d taken approximately 43 thousand of Helena, already, and turnabout was fair play. He did so, still managing not to laugh in my face, and then I dunked the thing. It hissed and it sparked, and still… marinara sauce dripped onto the floor.

“Shite.”

The fella ran off, howling, as the giant chicken sub swore. I didn’t blame him.

I went into the room where the rest of the food-afflicted were, finding Helena reading a book, holding the pages down with her muppet-fingers. I waved at her with my muppet fingers, and she laughed, and she laughed.

And she laughed.

It was possibly the stupidest thing that had ever happened in my life, and that included fighting with a group of inter-dimensional crime lords who started a zombie outbreak. It was hard to be professional about it, I had to be honest. I knew that, because there’s always a downside, it was potentially much more serious than it appeared – which was, of course, not remotely serious. I challenge you, however, to do any better, when faced with a roomful of muppet foodstuffs.

Having tried the obvious solution, to neutralise the artefact, I knew I had to contact the team. But my cellphone was somewhere in the in-between, I supposed, along with my Farnsworth. I grabbed Helena, and we made our way ponderously into the other part of the station, searching out the Sheriff. Sauce and cheese sloshed behind me as I walked.

Once Sheriff Adams stopped laughing, he set up a video conference with the Warehouse. I would have done it myself, but my arms were too short to go around my giant chicken sub body, and I couldn’t reach the keyboard.

Helena laughed about that until she wept ketchup.

We got no sense out of Claudia, none at all, and the poor girl’s mascara was everywhere, so I yelled for Arthur, and he, thankfully, just scowled at us.

“You both got whammied?”

I tried to shrug. It did not work, given that I appeared not to have shoulders.

“I found the artefact and neutralised it. I was wearing gloves, Arthur. But you know how these wishing artefacts are.”

He scowled harder, his eyebrows scrunching up like scary caterpillars, and he said nothing for a moment.

“Go sleep. Get some food. It can’t get much worse, I wouldn’t think. So eat something and sleep, and we’ll research tonight, and we’ll come back to it tomorrow.”

“All right then,” I said, rolling my eyes. Or trying to. I dread to think how it actually looked. Could my eyes even move? I wasn’t really sure; the perspective made everything look weird.

We went back to the room where the other foods were hiding out, and the Sheriff agreed that he’d get us some food, since we had neutralised the problem but were still stuck. It couldn’t hurt, right? We had pizza, all of us, and it was amusing to watch an eight-foot-wide pizza eating a pizza. The sheriff got us a load of yoga mats and big blankets, and we all settled down to sleep in our various food guises. When I lay down, my sauce stopped dripping everywhere, but the poor dude who turned into phō had to sit upright so he didn’t drown us all.

When I woke the next morning, I tried to jump up, and ended up just flailing like a turtle on its back. I had no idea where I was, I was trapped and I was ready for murder. Thankfully, I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was Helena’s muppet-self. That brought me from murderous to hysterical in seconds, and I lay there, helpless, legs and arms flapping as I tried to flip my sandwich-self up off the yoga mat.

“I’m normal again!” someone shouted, and I redoubled my efforts. One of the burgers helped me to my feet, and then I helped Helena, who was not exactly talking to me, to her feet. We turned and found that Steve, the giant pizza, was now just Steve again.

“We have to eat the food we’re craving!” Helena and I said in unison, and then we tried to high-five, missing spectacularly and ending up on the floor in a mess of mustard, onion and marinara sauce. It took the phō guy, Mr Egg Salad, and Doug the Cheeto to get us up off the floor, by which stage we were covered in various sauces, but triumphant.

The sheriff sent out a bunch of his deputies to fetch the requisite foodstuffs, and we took a sly picture of ourselves and the other victims to hang up at the Warehouse. One delicious sandwich (or hot dog, or potato snack, or burger) later, we all sat against the walls of the huge rooms, waiting for the magic to happen.

It took a few hours, and we were all terribly bored, but keeping ourselves going by chatting about Christmas and going home for the holidays, when there was a popping noise from Doug’s corner, and he turned from Cheeto to human. A few seconds later Phō turned to Phil, and I turned back into me. Helena, who’d eaten her hot dog slowly while pretending to hate it, was one of the last to turn back. Finally, there were a roomful of sheepish people staring at each other and wondering what to do next.

Helena, thankfully, got her human brain back quicker than I did. I was thinking about going to find another chicken parm sub, to be honest, because it had been delicious. But she stood, waved her badge around, told them all we’d been exposed to toxic gas that caused hallucinations, and one by one, our former foodstuffs made their way back to their families.

“All’s well that ends well, I suppose,” she said, sniffing, pointedly not looking at me.

“I suppose. It’s a terrible shame we have to get divorced, though. I was just getting used to being married to a Brit.”

“Hmmph,” was all she said, her arms folded, but I could see from the set of her shoulders that she was relaxing. I realised I might get out of this flippin’ town with my marriage intact, and I grinned.

We gave the Sheriff and his staff a non-disclosure agreement to sign, and gave them the usual rubbish about hallucinations and toxic gas, and they all nodded, shaking their heads. We went back to our hotel and tossed a coin for who got the shower first. Helena won, and I sat on the edge of the bed on top of a towel, so as to not get marinara sauce all over the bedding.

I sat there, glad to be human, flipping idly through channels on the television until she came out of the bathroom, naked in all her glory. I grinned at the sight, and she glared at me.

I wasn’t entirely forgiven, it appeared. I took myself into the bathroom, washed up, called the concierge to have our clothes cleaned, and then sat at the small desk to write my report on the incident. I studiously added all the pictures I’d taken, except the ones of Helena. I finished it up, scanning and sending it to the Warehouse, and then I packed up the wish jar - still inside the containment cannister – and the rest of my clothes. Then I gathered up my courage and asked my taciturn wife if she was hungry.

She glared at me as if I was taking the mickey, but I wasn’t, for a change, so she told me stiffly that she would like a salad. I am human, so I was tempted, but I ordered only a salad and did not at any point mention the words ‘hot dog’. I ordered myself a burger and fries and all the fixings, and when it arrived I scarfed it down. When dinner (which was technically lunch, given the time) was done I changed into my usual sleepwear, loose cotton tshirt and shorts, and got into bed. I pulled down the sheets on the other side in clear invitation, and Helena huffed at me, going to the bathroom again, where I heard her brush her teeth. She switched off the light and got into bed with me, and I could feel her begrudging it as she did so.

“There’s another bed, darling. If you’re really that mad,” I said, quietly.

“It’s fine,” she said, back stiff.

I ran my finger down her spine, just once. She made a huffing noise and then turned, putting her head under my chin, her arm around my waist. She was lying on my left arm, so I curled it a little, wrapping it around her body, and she sighed.

“You’re a complete arse, you know,” she said.

“I am,” I agreed. “But I’m your complete arse.”

“Hmm. What a catch.”

“Indeed I am. Catch of the century.”

“You’re a fucking pain, Myka Bering.”

“That’s Myka Bering-Wells, darling,” I said, lazily. “And I love you too.”

It was all right again after that, though she became somewhat frosty when she called the Warehouse the following morning and was greeted only by Claudia’s feet, Claudia herself having tipped her chair back so far that she’d fallen over. (I might have just sent our food-group selfie to her.)

On the flight back to South Dakota, she took my hand, both of us comforting each other as the plane took off.

“I love you, you complete arse,” she said, after a glass or two of red wine.

“I love you too, you gorgeous creature,” I said grandly, after three generous measures of Bushmills.

She sighed, took my hand, and fell asleep.

When we eventually got to the B&B after dropping off the artefact at the Warehouse, we were greeted at the door by Leena, dressed in her usual Mrs Santa costume. She looked spectacular, and Helena looked at me, amused, as I tried not to gawk. I mean, I’m married, not a nun.

Leena gestured at us both to leave our bags, handing us hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles.

“You are a sight for sore eyes, sweet lady,” I said, with a sweeping bow.

“And you are a flirt, Mrs Bering-Wells,” Leena said, winking at Helena. We made our way to the living room, finding Claudia spread out on the sofa, her head in Steve’s lap, and Pete scarfing down a plate of Leena’s chocolate Christmas logs.

“Mykes!” Pete bellowed, jumping up and throwing himself at me. I hastily divested myself of my hot chocolate and accepted his sweaty embrace.

“Bout ye, Pete,” I said, grinning as he lifted me off my feet. He put me down, none too gently, and went to give Helena the same treatment. The look she gave him would have scoured the hide off a pig.

“Hello, Pete. If you put your sweaty hands on me, I will not be held responsible for my actions, do you understand?”

Pete backed away, mumbling about crazy Brits, and I hid my smile behind my hand.

“Hey, girls! We have some lovely pictures of you,” Claudia said, grinning up at us.

“Iks-nay on the ictures-pay,” I said, behind my hand.

“Don’t worry about it, darling. I did in fact grow a sense of humour about all this, eventually. As it turns out, this century has indeed influenced my Victorian sensibilities somewhat. I am somewhat ashamed to admit that, yes, hot dogs are my favourite food, much as I wish they weren’t. That does not mean I will be indulging in them, however. I will continue to eat a healthy balanced diet, unlike my unfairly slim wife, who seems to subsist on all manner of appalling foods,” Helena said, looking at me disapprovingly.

“They’re only appalling to you, darling. I enjoy them, and so does everyone else here. And you know that Leena makes sure we get a balanced diet. It’s just when we’re out in the field that I indulge.”

She shook her head, rolled her eyes – all the usual. I just ignored her and sat down with my hot chocolate. Leena appeared again a few minutes later with some churros which I happily dipped in my hot chocolate. I noticed that my lovely wife did the same, surreptitiously of course.

Claudia, Steve and Pete were talking quietly while a horrifically bad Christmas movie played on the television. I watched Helena quietly. She was beautiful, sitting there with the light of the fire flickering in her eyes. She took the occasional sip of hot chocolate but mostly she was sitting there, looking at the fire, her eyes far away. She was exceptionally beautiful, like a marble statue of a greek goddess.

I heard the piano start up from the other room. Arthur, despite his Jewish roots, has always loved Christmas music. Claudia jumped up. She has always had a passion for music, and this was part of Christmas for her. She wandered off to find him, Steve following close behind.

“Mykissimo,” Pete said, jumping to his feet. “You can’t miss out on the yearly sing-song.”

“I suppose not,” I said, polishing off my hot chocolate. “You coming, love?”

She looked up at me.

“Just a minute, darling. I’ll be right there.”

I smiled at her and left her to it. Christmas was a difficult time for her, I knew. Her little girl had always loved Christmas time. Sometimes she needed a minute, to think about her daughter and how she’d lived to be a grand old age. How she wouldn’t have done, if Helena had stayed in her own time.

Arthur was playing “Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” and Steve was singing along in a pleasant baritone. He had a nice voice, and I loved listening to him. Claudia came to stand in front of me, pulling my arms around her neck, and I smiled down at her. She was like my wee sister.

When we were done with that song, Arthur started playing “O Holy Night.” It was my favourite Christmas song of all time, and I knew that he knew that. He turned and winked at me, and I smiled back. When I was at a Catholic school in Northern Ireland, there was a lot of emphasis on music, and the harmonies in this song and the way it all blended together had enthralled me then. It still does now.

Claudia started to sing, her sweet, light little voice singing the melody. When the chorus came along, we all started to sing our parts, Steve, Claudia, Artie and me – Pete can’t sing for toffee. The chorus swelled and then it pulled back before the next verse. Claudia’s sweet voice made me smile. We reached the second chorus and I realised that I had goosebumps. I turned, finding Helena leaning against the doorjamb, watching us all fondly. The thought of her in her Muppet body did cross my mind, and I smiled to myself. That image wouldn’t be leaving me anytime soon. But the way she looked standing there in her blue shirt and jeans and bare feet, her hair loose around her shoulders, it just made something in me still for a moment. The combination of the perfect music and the perfect woman in front of me made me feel calm and relaxed for once, and if I’d been the praying type, I might have said a thank you to the baby Jesus or whatever right then. As it was, I just thanked anyone who was listening for giving me these people and this place, and letting me live in endless wonder.

Merry Christmas, everyone !

#Helena HG Wells #Myka Bering #Bering and Wells #Christmas fic #Warehouse 13

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cosmosogler · 7 years ago

Text

today my brain, like some kind of drunk frat boy, said “remember that bs we did yesterday? let’s do it again! round 2!!!” in my head i am imagining sam rockwell’s voice.

i didn’t sleep well at all. my eyes felt bruised. my jaw feels bruised. my teeth hurt all the time.

i did, however, manage to shower, eat, clean up after snoopy, and pack and leave by 9:05. so i was in the physics building at 9:30. i had trouble getting settled. i was workin by 10:10 though.

snoop and i are having a disagreement about where the litter box should be. i think that it should be in an area that’s easy to keep clean. snoopy thinks it should be on top of my couch.

i worked until about 12 when i took a break for lunch. my lunch was pretty bad though and very much not enough. i felt sick even from a pbj. i managed to talk harrison into grabbing some lunch from the food court (by talking him into it i mean i asked and before i could finish he said “yes”). pizza was a bad idea... i felt sick after that too, but less like i was gonna shrivel up from lack of food. i might still be losing weight. hard to eat.

that took longer than i wanted it to so i sat back down and continued reading my textbook at 1:15-ish. i have two assignments due tomorrow... i was going to start them today. i was. i wanted to finish reading the textbook so i wouldn’t feel lost and overwhelmed when it came time to solve problems. reading is such slow going though... at 1:50 i stopped to go to my appointment with disability resources. i was there for about 50 minutes. i started feeling really upset when we went over rudimentary study strategies and what, exactly, happens when i try to take tests. danielle said she remembered that i had told my case worker that i’d passed out during the prelims.

i tried to focus on some goals. i half-joked that i was hoping she could get me reading the textbook four times as fast after my appointment. she said to focus on feeling less isolated and to try to relax. she gave me some mindfulness exercise mp3s from a web site so i downloaded a couple that looked interesting this evening. i haven’t tried them yet, but i stuck to the ones that were 5-10 minutes long.

it feels like relaxing only works half the time. last time, when i took my finals in undergrad, i felt relatively confident going into my observational astronomy test. like, i’d studied for 5 days, i hadn’t used ALL the strategies but i did go over all the material. and i got a 50% on that test. it brought my grade down from a solid b into c- territory.

so it’s hard to see the point of being less stressed when i go into tests. because now i know that being less stressed won’t actually help. that stresses me out more.

i noticed when describing how my semester has gone so far that i seem to really know what i’m talking about when i’m talking with my classmates about physics. as soon as i gotta prove that i know stuff to my professor, though, it’s all gone. and when i calm down a little and get working on problems, my brain reaches for stuff i know to connect to the questions, and it picks the wrong stuff. but i don’t notice i am using the wrong stuff, because my brain pulled it down from the shelf and told me it’s what i needed. and at that point i’m so relieved to feel like i know what i’m doing that i just do the problems completely wrong and i look hella dumb.

scrambled connections.

so that’s where i seem to be at. some insight, maybe? after that i went back to the department, got distracted talking to suzanne (her fiance’s cousin died and they are leaving for his funeral so she won’t be around this weekend), got some cookies with keegan and harrison, and then sat down and worked for another hour and a half.

i got that feeling, like, where if you’re doing some form of hard physical activity, stamina wise. when your stamina is gone, and you kind of realize it’s gone a few seconds before your body gives and breaks. i got that deeply uncomfortable, wrong, “it’s time to stop right now” sort of feeling. so i went home real quick after that even though i still hadn’t started my homework problems. i’d made good progress on my reading... i hoped i could read a little more at home even though it was a long shot.

when i got home i didn’t feel like washing my pots to cook anything so i made a microwave meal. i took some time to brush snoopy. i opened the window to let in some fresh air and looked out over the courtyard. i fudged around with youtube for a little bit and did some administrative emailing. i had a couple oreos, maybe three.

then i actually, honest to god, sat down and read the textbook. it was incredible. when my timer went off i took a break and stretched while snoopy watched. then i just laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling for like three minutes.

i got back to it after i checked my updated comics! i finished the chapter, which was my goal actually. some of the work is in chapter 4, i think... the professor wants us to be 3/4 of the way through chapter 4 by tomorrow morning and we all had a good chuckle over that.

i asked around a bit and it seems like not a lot of the other students read the textbooks. i dunno. i know it’s hard, and i know it’s kind of helping me procrastinate on the actual homework, but i do feel more comfortable in lectures when i’ve read the section. it’s easier to keep track of where the professor is going. and it’s easier to figure out what the questions want me to do, and where to find helpful stuff in the book.

some of it’s helpful, some of it’s not. i emailed both my professors in the afternoon and told them i didn’t think i’d have my assignments done by tomorrow morning. the classical professor said to just bring it in on monday which is a relief. my quantum professor didn’t get back to me. i didn’t see him in his office either. i hope he’s ok.

i finished that around 9:40. now it’s 10:15. stretching really did help a lot. might need to do that after i get home every day. stretching my back has helped a little bit, but if i do everything then i might actually feel better instead of just “not worse.”

i somehow pulled both of my shoulders in my sleep the other night though and wearing a backpack’s been agony. it might help to get a backrub but i wouldn’t let anyone massage my back or shoulders even if i was dead. if someone came up behind my corpse it would fly away like a thrown muppet.

i don’t like massages, or spas, or that kind of stuff in general. i can tolerate being emotionally vulnerable sometimes but the idea of being physically vulnerable is like a cold wall of fear and uncertainty and anxiety. i’m already physically vulnerable. if you wanted to grab me or hurt me there’s not really anything i could do about it. but specifically relaxing, in water where it’s hard to move, or laying down or letting someone stand around behind me, feels like it’s inviting problems. can’t do it.

that and my back has all kinds of nerve damage from my heart surgery. when people touch the area wrong or it gets bumped on a table my whole side either feels like knives or just goes fuzzy and numb and i can’t move my arm any more. neither of those feels good!!!

my side gets sore when it’s muggy out too. since the scar tissue is on my right side, having my whole dominant arm be kind of weak and fussy is really irritating.

i know it could get worse. i know things could be worse. but that doesn’t mean they are good now.

thinkin about that makes me miserable.

it feels like a got a lot done today. but it also feels like i got the wrong stuff done, even though i know that my homework would have been frustrating and basically impossible without doing all this reading first. i hate sitting and reading the textbook and my classmates look over and ask how much of the assignment i’ve got done and i have to say “none” even as the sun goes down and the staff goes home.

it feels like i didn’t try hard enough, even though i literally could not have done any more today. my best just isn’t good enough. baby steps aren’t what my professors want. they want me running the marathon with everyone else. i mean, yeah, walking a bit is better than laying on the ground, but i’m still not gonna hit the finish line by the end of the day. it’s so, so hard to get to the end of the day and praise myself for doing just a little bit, even when i feel like hot garbage and one problem was a gargantuan effort. it’s so discouraging to look at my work and be like, “yeah! i did it! i read for an hour today, even though i was very depressed!” when i needed to read for five hours, and now tomorrow to catch up i have to read for another five hours plus the four i didn’t get around to that day.

i mean, it’s not ten hours i need to catch up on. it could be worse. but nine hours is still not good. nine hours is still really bad!

i mentioned a stupid thing before the “read more” cut that i didn’t get around to during the bulk of my entry. i had another panic attack for like forty minutes. right when i left my apartment before i even got to the elevator i felt sick and sweaty and breathless. i wanted to complain to someone but there wasn’t no one there so i just struggled to breathe by myself for a while. it was basically a repeat of yesterday. angry about a big dude grabbing me in the dark and instead of apologizing, saying “i’ll touch you whenever i want.” REAL COOL!!! he’s my step dad. not technically related.

i don’t like having panic attacks. don’t get a lot done when that’s happening and afterward i just feel drained and that makes it hard to get moving again. i’m still upset. but i really don’t feel comfortable making myself all gooey and weak in front of these people i hardly know, especially when they ain’t really talked about any of their problems either. i don’t wanna freak out at someone i don’t know that well four weeks into the semester. that would be bad.

anyway i’m going to go to bed on time for once tonight, so i gotta wrap it up here. i’m so tired. i’m going to do that five-minute meditation thing and see if that changes anything.

(edit: it helped.)

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realityisonlythebeginning · 8 years ago

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*whispers* I need some fic. *yells* Please! It's been FOREVER since you posted any! (Well 2 weeks, technically) *cries hysterically* I'm going crazy without Robron! Fic is the only thing keeping me hanging on. *yells through tears* Please?!? Take pity on a poor talentless idiot who misses her boys! *whispers* sorry for this ask, I really am losing it. :-(

Hiiii!

Okay so I don’t have any fic to post on AO3 but I’m awfully nice and can’t resist a message like this so I sat down and came up with this for you…I hope it helps a little ☺️

—————————————–Aaron flicked the switch up and down a few times until Robert huffed in annoyance,“It’s not gonna work.”Aaron looked over at him, narrowing his eyes slightly and flipping the switch again,“Aaron!”He laughed as he dropped his hand,“Calm down. It’s just a power cut.”Robert leant over the counter and looked out of the window,“House over the road has lights.”Aaron shrugged as he pushed himself up to sit on the other counter,“So?”He reached for a biscuit from the half empty packet, making a mental note to put more on the shopping list,“So…means there’s something wrong with our lights.”Aaron chewed the biscuit and nodded his head toward the utility,“Checked the fuse box?”Robert threw his hands up, voice drenched in sarcasm,“Of course! The fuse box. Never thought of that, thank god you’re here.”Aaron scoffed,“Alright, no need to be like that.”“Don’t suggest stupid things then.”He jumped from the counter,“Deal with it yourself.”He started to leave, pulled back suddenly by Robert’s hand around his wrist,“I’m sorry.”Aaron raised his eyebrows, letting Robert pull him in with a roll of his eyes; instinctively reaching for his waist,“It’s just a power cut.”Robert put his arms around Aaron’s neck,“I just want this place to be perfect. And if there’s a problem then I need to know.”Aaron smirked,“Control freak.”Robert scoffed,“Lazy arse.”Aaron pulled him close,“Best watch your mouth Sugden.”Robert pushed a hand through the man’s hair,“Oh yeah?”Aaron nodded,“Yeah.”Robert smiled as he closed the gap between them, kissing him with a satisfied moan. Aaron’s mouth had just fallen open when the crack of thunder pulled them apart with a start,“Jesus.”They looked at one another in surprise,“That explains the power cut then.”Robert was staring up at the ceiling, as though expecting the lightning and thunder to come straight through the roof,“Robert?”He didn’t answer him, focused on the ceiling as the rain started, heavy against the window,“Robert?”He looked at him, eyes slightly wide,“Did you count how far the-”He gripped Aaron tightly as another crack of thunder happened,“Oh my god!”Aaron couldn’t stop the smile from creeping to his lips,“You’re not scared are you?”Robert scoffed, stepping back,“Course I’m not. Don’t be stupid.”The sky outside light up brightly as lightning struck, followed seconds later by a crack of thunder,“Fuck the fuck off that was right above us!”Aaron looked down at the hands that were tangled in his shirt,“Robert-”“Yes! Okay? I hate thunder. Go ahead laugh at me.”Aaron opened his mouth just as the sky lit up again. He reached up quickly and covered the man’s ears with his hands; grinning at him as he squeezed his eyes shut,“Okay?”Robert nodded as Aaron lowered his hands,“Since when are you scared of thunder?”Robert looked around,“Can we move from the kitchen? If that strikes above us, we’re de-oh come on that’s right above us now!”Aaron cupped his cheek,“Muppet. Come on.”He led him through to the sofa,“Sit.”Robert pulled him down with it,“It’s just noise.”Robert pushed his hands through his hair,“Yeah I’m not a child.”Aaron bit his tongue to keep from making a comment, instead he gripped Robert’s hand,“I don’t mean that…I’m trying to-”He winced in pain as Robert squeezed his hand tightly at another crack above them,“Okay! Explain…explain why you’re scared?”Robert rubbed his face,“I just…I’m not scared. I just…hate it. Just drop it.”Aaron looked at him; all traces of humour gone,“Okay. Okay I’ll drop it.”He rubbed the man’s back as he pushed the balls of his palms into his eyes and clenched his jaw at the noise above him,“God, why is it so loud?!”Aaron hated the way his voice cracked,“It’s okay.”Robert didn’t answer him; Aaron was about to speak again when he heard him humming to himself. He leant down and tried to figure out what the song was, wracking his brain until he placed it, he rubbed Roberts back rhythmically and pulled him closer, leaning into his ear he started singing the words quietly,“Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me…”Robert mouthed the words as well; keeping his hands where they were and going over and over it until a solid five minutes had passed without any thunder. Aaron looked out at the window then leant over and kissed Robert’s head,“I think it’s passed.”Robert took a few deep breaths then lowered his hands and looked over at the window,“Still raining.”Aaron sat back,“Yeah but rains fine. Might clear that bird shit from the upstairs window.”Robert gave a small laugh, making Aaron smile as he nudged him,“You okay?”Robert looked at him,“Yeah…yeah I’m okay. Sorry about…all this. Managed to keep it secret.”Aaron put his fingers through Roberts hair,“It’s fine. Put up with enough from me.”Robert shrugged, busying himself with picking at a thread on a cushion,“Yeah but you’ve got reasons.”Aaron frowned,“It’s not a competition, mate.”Robert paused a moment then met his eye,“Bit pathetic innit? Thirty year old man freaks out over thunder. Even…dogs don’t freak out.”He pushed his hands through his hair again as Aaron moved around, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands,“Robert…look at me.”Robert met his eye somewhat reluctantly and Aaron squeezed his fingers,“I’m scared of spiders. Fucking terrified of them.”Robert cracked a smile; the memory of Aaron screaming and shouting before falling from the shower after seeing the creature was still amusing,“Yeah.”Aaron shrugged,“Fears are fears.”Robert nodded, staring down at their joined hands,“I have some bad memories…associated with thunder. And when it happens it just…brings it all back. And I can’t-”He exhaled sharply,“I hate it.”Aaron pushed his hands up and down his forearms,“And the song?”Robert gave a small smile, still staring at Aaron’s hands, “My mum used to listen to it. When I was little…I remember sitting in the kitchen and it was on the radio. Makes me calm.”Aaron nodded slowly,“How did you deal with it? With Chrissie?”Robert scoffed,“Hid it…managed pretty well. You’re the uh…you’re the first one I’ve ever told.”He shrugged,“You’re the first person I’ve felt safe enough around to know.”Aaron stared up at the man; his heart fit to burst with how much he loved him,“Tell you what.”Robert met his eye,“What?”Aaron smiled,“You protect me from the spiders, and I promise…you’ll never have to be alone during thunder. Okay?”Robert smiled at him, a smile that still made Aaron’s heart skip a beat,“We got a deal?”Robert pulled him in; pressing their lips together before breaking away and resting his forehead against Aaron’s,“Deal.”Aaron cupped the back of his neck and closed his eyes, smiling gently as he massaged circles into the man’s skin. Suddenly the room filled with the sound of the TV, the place lighting up brightly, the two men broke away and looked around,“Hey. See? Told you. Just a power cut.”Robert stared into Aaron’s eyes with a small smile,“Yeah.”Aaron grinned kissing him quickly then standing up,“So…about that dinner you were gonna cook me?”He headed toward the kitchen as Robert smiled to himself, wiped his cheeks and stood up, he watched his husband as he got a beer from the fridge and smiled before heading over toward him. All thoughts of panic and thunder finally ebbing away.

#emmerdale #robron #quick fic #Robert sugden #Aaron dingle

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scarletjedi · 8 years ago

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You know why I'm here. All of them. Write for me, my angel of writing! *slams hands into piano like the Phantom of the Opera*

you *shakes fist*

Fine. I’m not repeating myself, tho :P

and i’m putting this under a cut for length.

1. Describe yourself how you would describe a character you’re introducing

She entered the room like a riot, drawing the attention of everyone (She grins, and it stretches across her face, showing teeth, and most of the smiles that greet her are warm, but there are a few severe frowns on pinched faces, and you wonder). She’s loud when she moves, not her voice, though her laugh is...distinctive, a hearty sound that lifts to a delighted cackle--but her keys jangle at her belt, and her bracelets jingle at her wrist when she moves. She is always moving, a restless energy as she puts down her things and opens her laptop, her heel bouncing and making the table squeek. You realize that she can’t hear it, a discrete pair of headphones over her ears also explains the music you could have sworn you heard when she entered the room.

You watch as she works; even self-contained, she’s a distraction, a bright spot of color in the corner of the room. Her hair, as short as it is, is a shining blond that curls over her forehead like Superman, and the light catches off of the glitter at her eyes, on her nails, and she sparks in the periphery of your vision.

Something makes her frown, and the expression pulls at the corners of her mouth, crinkling her forehead and you realize that she’s older than you first thought, the worry lines comfortable on her face.

One of the others, the pinched faced older woman, goes over to her, and she begins to speak without greeting. It takes a minute for the bright spot to notice her, but she does, pulling her headphones from her ears and looking up with a perfectly pleasant expression. You’d even swear that smile reaches her eyes, if you couldn’t see the way the others, the smilers, all being to pay attention, as if expecting a show.

But instead, she simply stands, and next to the pinched woman, you can tell that she’s larger than she looks, taller and broader shoulders, with strong arms that brace on her hips, and her face is still pleasant, even as her body screams “fight me, Helen.”

The pinched woman finishes her say, and leaves, and the room feels brighter for it. She relaxes, dropping back down into the seat, and catches your eyes. She grins at you.

“Some fucking people,” she says, the laughter clear in her voice, and goes back to work.

2. Is there any specific ritual you go through while/before/after your writing?

depends on where I am and what I’m writing. I usually try to work in a clean space, so i’ll clear off my table/desk/etc, and if I can I’ll light a candle. I’ll put on music if i’m trying to meet a deadline.

Honestly, my most consistent ritual, is announcing my goal out loud. “Today, I’d like to get 2k words written” or “Today, I’d like to finish the next chapter”

It helps to give me direction, and allows me to take breaks when I’ve met my “goal” and *need* a break but feel frustrated and like I can’t stop even though nothing’s happening.

3. What is your absolute favorite kind of fic to write?

Well, I certainly have a penchant for time travel, lol.

I like to take ridiculous “crack” scenarios and treat them seriously.

4. Are there any other fic writers you admire? If so, who and why?

@determamfidd for her worldbuilding and delight, @poplitealqueen for her enthusiasm and drive, @deadcatwithaflamethrower for her prolific dedication, Speranza for always writing the fic that I didn’t know I needed and her characterization

5. How many words can you write if you sit down and concentrate intensely for an hour?

I can get about 700 words in 30 minutes, so...1400? I have trouble concentrating for a solid hour, however.

8. Why do you choose to write?

I think it’s funny that you think I have a choice.

I write because I need to, becuase I want to and like to, because I feel better when I do--because I have something to say, damnit, and this is the way I chose.

9. Do you ever have plans to write anything other than fic?

Yep! I have a novel in the revision stage (heavy fucking revision) and another, like, 3 in the planning stages. I also have a few short stories written under my pen name and plans for a novel under her name as well.

10. What inspires you the most?

well written fiction.

11. Weirdest thing you’ve ever written/thought about writing/etc.?

define weird. (No, seriously, I write fantasy and speculative fiction and magical realism. my bar for weird is *very* high)

12. A fix you wish you had written better, and why?

you mean a fic? Love Letters from Zelda Rubenstein. It’s not that I think it’s bad, but that fic was bigger in my head than it is on the page and that bothers me. (Then again, it was one of the first longer fics that I wrote, so there was a learning curve)

13. Favorite fic from another author?

have three -

Sansukh by Determamfidd (Tolkien)

Waking Dream by deadcatwithaflamethrower (Star Wars)

All the Angels and The Saints by Speranza (Marvel)

14. Your favorite side pairings to put in?

Depends on the fandom, and it varries by fic. Like, I will always write Obi-Wan in love with Qui-Gon, wether or not the relationship ever existed, and Jesse and Kix is always gonna happen for me. I think Luke and Biggs totally banged, and Percy and Oliver had a thing during fifth year. Harry and Ron never hooked up, but Harry *could* have loved Draco if Harry wasn’t Harry and Draco wasn’t Draco, and Ron was totally jealous of both Krum *and* Hermione.

I can’t “take away” a love interest from a character without giving them someone new. If I was to write Obikin, Padme is loved by Sabe, or all of the handmaidens. Stucky has Peggy happy elsewhere (Gabe Jones or Angie Motherfucking Martinelli).

16. Do you have structured ideas of how your story is supposed to go, or make it up as you write?

I have checkpoints - moments that I know will happen. I write them out, and then I play connect the dots.

17. Would yo describe yourself as a fast writer?

I used to. Now, I’m not so sure. I’m faster in the summer than in the winter, that’s for sure.

18. How old were you when you started writing?

I have a journal with Muppet Baby fanfiction, and the handwriting puts be in early grade school, like first or second grade.

I published for the first time on ff.net at 15/16.

19. Why did you start writing?

Because if nobody was going to write the stuff I wanted to read, I would have to do it myself.

20. 4 sentences from your work that you’re proud of

Here, from my most recent “Attachments”

When Luke saw Biggs next, he was decked out in orange, and they were both on their way to run against the Empire’s superweapon. He ignored the pulsing threats that hummed in the back of his mind in the same place where he had seen and not seen the blaster remote. When Biggs died in the shower of sparks, Luke told himself that the aching darkness in his heart was just grief.

He was never very good at believing his own lies.

#fic meme #poplitealqueen

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make-me-imagine · 4 years ago

Text

Blue Salvias: I Think of You (Always)

Valentines Special: Day Two

Day One: Morning Glories - Day Three: Sunflowers

Plot: The reader keeps receiving flowers and sweet messages every day from an anonymous source leading up to Valentines Day. But who is sending them?

Choose your own character ending (coming on Valentines Day).

Gender!Neutral Reader x ???

Triggers: None Words: 1,366

February 7th

When you woke up, you had briefly forgotten about what happened the previous day. You climbed out of bed, wandered to the bathroom, made some coffee in your small kitchenette, sat at your desk, and that was when your eyes landed on the potted plant in the window, the second note left on your door placed underneath it, poking out.

Most of the purple flowers has closed, lying in scrunched tubes, while some had slowly begun to open up again as the morning sun shown through the window on them.

Getting up, you got a small glass of water and poured it over the soil as you admired the delicate flowers again. As you sat back down, you put your head in your hand as you wondered what they meant in their note “Until tomorrow”. Was your apparent admirer going to leave you another gift, a note, or maybe show themselves?

With this, the fear of it being someone you weren’t attracted to plagued your mind. God you hated turning people down, and if it was one of the others that would be worse, talk about awkward.

But maybe it’s someone you like? Maybe it’s that someone. But they’ve never showed particular interest in you, but that doesn’t mean they feel nothing. I mean, you don’t think you’ve really showed your own feelings to them. You sighed as you tried to move on from these thoughts and back to your morning routine.

Though you had managed to distract yourself with your morning work, there seemed to be a constant anxiety in your chest. It was made up of a mixture of fear, confusion, curiosity, and hope.

As you grew annoyed at yourself, with your eyes constant wondering back to the plant in the window, you decided you needed to actually distract yourself. Getting dressed, you left your room and began to wander towards Tony’s lab. Maybe he needed some help with something. He was usually there in the mornings.

But when you found his lab empty of both him and Bruce, you sighed before you began wondering down the halls. Thinking about the gym, you got in the elevator and made your way there. Maybe you could distract yourself with a work out.

As you entered the gym, you saw Steve and Bucky working out together “Morning guys” you greeted as you approached them.

They both stopped what they were doing and turned to you “Morning” they said in sync as they smiled at you.

“Gonna have a morning work out? Wanna train with us?” Steve asked.

“I think I’m just going to run for a bit” you said as you gestured to the treadmill.

Going into the locker room, you changed into some work out clothes you always keep in your personal locker. Popping in your earbuds you began running on the treadmill as Steve and Bucky continued their workout, before wandering in and out to grab other supplies from the training room to practice.

As you began to run, you started thinking through what you needed to do today, possible missions you would be going on soon, the flowers, Tony and Bruce’s project, how to get Peter to stop scaling the side of the tower, the flowers.

You hated that you were so curious about the flowers, but then again it’s not every day that someone gets a gift from a secret admirer. Your eyes darted to the gym door as someone walked in. You almost stumbled when you saw Natasha enter, a bouquet in hand, and a wide smirk on her face as she met your eyes.

Stopping the treadmill, and taking out your earbuds, you watched as she approached you. Steve and Bucky also stopping what they were doing as they watched her approach you.

“Well, well, well, look who received another gift” she smirked as she stopped in front of you, handing you the flowers.

Bucky and Steve walked over, their curiosity seeming to get the better of them. You gingerly took the flowers in your hands as you admired them.

The beautiful blue flowers were wrapped in a thin white paper. They emitted a smell similar to incense that tickled your nose. “Where were they?”

“Outside your door. I went to find you to ask if you wanted to train, and they were lying there. There’s a note.”

You met her eyes and then looked at Bucky and Steve who rose their brows in curiosity. Nat turned and smiled at them “Y/n has a secret admirer, whoever it is left Morning Glories yesterday.”

“Morning glories?” they both questioned at the same time.

You opened the note attached by string and read the words to yourself.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ Blue Salvia.

These mean “I’m thinking of you”. Which I find myself doing always. I don’t know when it started, but it did, and there is no stopping it now, not that I want it to. You never seem to leave my thoughts completely. And I tend to catch myself wondering, how often am I in yours? ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

You felt a small smile spread across your face as you read it, as butterflies grew in your stomach.

“Soo, what does it say?” Nat said as she tried to read it.

Moving it so she couldn’t see it, you looked from her to Steve and Bucky before you smiled “None of your business” you said playfully before you stepped off the treadmill and walked back to the locker room, leaving the three of them to share slightly offended looks as well as amused smiles.

After you freshened up and got dressed, you left the locker room, seeing that the three of them had left. You looked back at the flowers in your hand and smiled.

So, Bruce, Tony, Nat, Bucky and Steve now knew of the flowers. They all seemed surprised about it, but maybe one of them was acting? Someone had to know about it right?

As you made your way back to your room to take a shower, you passed Clint on the way to the elevator who moved to walk next to you “So Nat tells me you have a secret admirer?” he smirked at you.

You sighed as you rolled your eyes, okay, now Clint knew as well. “Apparently. You don’t happen to know who it is by chance do you?” you questioned, watching his reaction closely as you pressed the elevator button.

He lifted his hands up and shrugged “Nope. And even if I did, why would I ruin the surprise?” he smirked.

Walking into the open elevator, you turned and met his amused gaze “Thanks for nothing Clint” you joked.

- - -

After placing the flowers in a vase you had had some fake flowers in, you bit your lip as you began to wonder again who was leaving these flowers. You thought back on the message, it has to be someone you knew, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to think about them like they hoped.

The anxiety of it being someone you have no feelings for filled you with anxiety again. Maybe you could find out who left the flowers? Ask around the tower? There was bound to be someone who knew, or saw.

But then, wouldn’t that ruin the purpose? Maybe this person never intended to show themselves, and you’d make them angry by seeking them out? Or maybe they want you to seek them out?

You sighed audibly as you turned away from the flowers in aggravation “What do I do?” you wondered out loud before turning back and looking at the flowers.

You decided that for now, you would do nothing. You would wait another day or two to see what happens. And then, maybe you’d look into it more. Maybe.

But for now, you needed to get back to work. You needed the distraction. Though, you knew deep down, you would not stop wondering who it was that seemed to think so highly of you. Whose thoughts you seemed to plague. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt about it. You hope at the end of this, you did not have to hurt them.

xx xx xx xx xx

Stay tuned for part 3 tomorrow!~

Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for the rest of this series.

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selenelavellan · 8 years ago

Text

Selene Finds a Home

Muppet AU

Melarue, Nialas, and Aelynthi belong to @justanartsysideblog

TW for allusions to parental neglect, rejection, and food.

The drive to the Department is long, and quiet. Nialas tries to strike up conversation with Selene a few times, but she's still a stranger, so Selene gives the shortest answers she can.

The Department itself looks large, the doors they pass through towering well over Selene. The tile floor is cracked in a few places, and the fluorescent lights are brighter than she's used to. A few of the workers glance up as Selene follows closely behind Nialas, who makes several stops and speaks with several other people in hushed tones, until they end up alone in a room with her. There are several chairs, and beanbags, and a table with crayons and paper and markers. Nialas asks Selene where she wants to sit, and she swallows.

Is this a test?

How is she supposed to know which is the right one?

If she picks the wrong one, what happens to her parents?

What happens to her?

She is sniffling when the person with the pretty earrings enters the room, pizza box in hand. They're wearing a different pair today, but they're still very nice she thinks.

They take one look at Selene, and offer a small smile before sitting criss-crossed on the floor by the table.

“Are you hungry, Selene?” they ask.

Selene sniffs again, and nods.

“Will you sit with me?”

Selene nods again, and moves to sit beside them, eyeing the gooey, cheesy pizza in front of them as they flip open the top.

“Eat as much as you'd like.”

Selenes eyes go wide, as her head turns to them “Really?”

“Of course,” they assure her, pulling a paper plate and a small stack of napkins out of their purse. They reveal an unopened bottle of water as well, and offer it to her. Selene accepts, and they twist the top open for her.

Selene eats her first piece slowly. It's rude to eat too much in front of people that are bigger than you. Bigger people need more food, that's what Mamae and Papae said. Besides, Nialas has a lot of questions for her, and it's even more rude to talk with food in your mouth.

Most of the questions are easy. Her name, her parents names, age, address, where she goes to school. What she eats, how often she eats, and what a normal day is like.

That one trips her up.

Her days used to mean waking up and going to school, then going home to clean and do homework and practice her magic. But the last week has been her at her parents shop, instead of school. Helping with plants, and reading Papae's books and making her notes, and then going home and practicing her magic until she falls asleep.

They both make a face at that, and Selene wonders if she did something wrong again.

But the earring person just offers Selene more pizza, and she takes her second piece.

They both leave after an hour or so of more questions, and a little bit of magical testing, and then Selene is alone in the room with the pizza.

It's cold by now, but it's probably not rude for her to eat more, since there's no one to watch her, right?

She eagerly devours three more slices before they get back, and she watches as the earring person quirks an eyebrow, but they don't say anything about the matter.

“Would you like to come home with me?” They ask Selene instead.

Selene blinks.

“What about my parents?”

Nialas kneels down slightly to get face to face with Selene and gives her a soft smile “Your parents have signed over custody. Melarue will give you a good home.”

“So you're not really asking then,” Selene frowns.

“If you don't want to go with Melarue, we'll find you another family,” Nialas assures her “But I don't know how long that will take, and you'll have to go into the system until another one can be found.”

Selene contemplates her options. She's never had any experience herself with that sort of thing, but she's never heard anything good about it, either. Especially for elven mages that aren't even wanted by their own parents. If she goes with Melarue, she'll at least have a house to live in. And they already told her she can go back to school, and maybe there'll even be more pizza, if she behaves.

“Alright,” Selene agrees, turning to look up at Melarue “I'll go home with you.”

–

The apartment is much bigger than the one she lived in with her parents. Their living room is actually big enough for a TV and a small table and a couch, and you can still see the floor, even. There's a real dining room with a big table and chairs that don’t wobble, and a large kitchen with all of its cabinet doors still attached, and their fridge doesn't make funny noises when she walks past it.

But the biggest surprise is Aelynthi.

He's coloring at the living room table when she and Melarue (who told Selene she can call them Nanae, if she wants) walk through the door.

Selene swallows and debates making a run for it again. What if he's still mad?

But Aelynthi just runs over to Melarue and gives them a large hug, welcoming them home.

“Aelynthi,” they say “Do you remember when I asked if you'd be alright with a sister?”

“Yeah,” he nods, then looks to Selene. “Are you my sister now?”

Selene shuffles awkwardly on her feet, hands twisting behind her back as her shoulders raise and her head tilts downwards “I dunno. D'you...d'you want me to be? I blew up your picture and and...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Sometimes it just happens, I get excited and the fire just happens...but I'm-I'm working on it! I'll try not to ruin anymore of your pictures, really!”

“I'm not mad,” Aelynthi explains “I thought you were mad. You ran away without sayin' sorry, and then didn't come back to school.”

Selene's shoulders raise a little higher up as she whispers out a soft “I'm sorry, Aelynthi.”

Aelynthi steps forward, placing his arms tightly around her. “It's ok. I forgive you. You're my sister now, so I'll always forgive you,” he pulls back slightly, raising a single finger as he lectures her “but don't run away again because it's not safe! Ok?”

Selene sniffles a few times, as her shoulders begin to shake. Before long, she's sobbing again, sniffling out apologies and promises about being a good sister between deep inhales as she tries to get herself back under control, wiping at her eyes to try to see straight. Melarue brings over a box of tissues, and Selene takes a few, blowing her nose loudly.

“Sorry,” she says again, face red and splotchy.

“It's alright, Selene,” Melarue smiles. “Nobody here is going to judge you for being upset.”

Selene sniffs again and gives a small nod in response.

“Oh!” Aelynthi exclaims “Wait here!”

Selene nods again, as Aelynthi runs into one of the bedrooms, emerging quickly with a new glittery picture in his hands.

“I made this for you!” He proclaims proudly, shoving it into her hands.

Selene blinks and looks down at it. It's very pretty, and colorful, and the glitter is a better quality than the stuff in class. She notices that Aelynthi even scribbled some letters down in the bottom corner like a signature, with a 'for Selene' next to it.

“Thank you,” Selene manages, holding the picture tightly between her little fingers and trying her hardest not to cry again.

Aelynthi decides that it's a good idea to give Selene a tour of the house, and she follows him around, nodding attentively at all of the information he gives her while Melarue begins cooking dinner. Selene offers to help when she notices, used to having to help with dinner preparation, but Melarue assures her they have it under control.

Aelynthi is showing off his room when Melarue goes to retrieve them for dinner, a simple chicken Cobb salad. Nialas rings the doorbell while Aelynthi drags Selene off to watch a movie she said she hadn't seen before, and Melarue is washing the dishes.

“These are a few of her things,” She explains, handing over a small bag and a backpack “Some clothes, pajamas, shoes, and her backpack with her school things in it.”

“Thank you,” Melarue accepts. “Would you like to come in?”

“Can't. I still have some paperwork to finish up.”

“A shame, then. Thank you for bringing these by for us.”

Nialas waves it off, and leaves as quickly as she had come.

Selene is spying on the exchange from around the couch, but pretends to have been paying attention to the movie instead when Melarue catches her. They don't pull attention to it though, instead carrying the bundles into Aelynthi's room and inflating the air mattress. Not the best thing for her to sleep on, but it will have to do for the night. They resolve to take the both of them shopping after school tomorrow, to get the rest of the things they'll be needing now.

When the movie is over, Melarue has them both wash up and take their showers before changing into their pajamas. Selene is surprised to find her sunflower pj's in her bag, since she thought she had lost them a long time ago. The legs are a little short now, and her ankles stick out of the bottom, but they're familiar, and she's grateful for that.

“Nanae,” Selene ventures, as Melarue lays out a few blankets for her over top of the mattress “Am I supposed to practice my magic with Aelynthi in here?”

Melarue sighs and shakes their head “No, dear. I think it would be best if you took a few nights off from your practicing. You need the rest.”

Selenes eyebrows scrunch together, and she shuffles on her feet again “But if I don't practice, it'll get out of control and I might...” she pulls the picture her new brother made for her tightly to her chest “I don't wanna mess up again. Then you won't want me either...”

“Selene,” Melarue says forcefully enough that her head shoots up. She sniffs as their tone softens and they continue “You will always be welcome with us. I know you're scared, and this is all very new for you. But Aelynthi and I care for you very much.”

“That's right!” Aelynthi pipes up from his own bed on the opposite wall, causing Melarue to chuckle fondly.

“I hope one day, you'll come to think of us as family, as we do you.”

Selene sniffs, and pulls the picture tighter to her chest, accidentally smearing glitter all over her shirt. “Thank you,” she whispers, trying not to cry again. She's cried a lot today, and it's not good to cry too much, she thinks.

“You're very welcome,” Melarue returns with a gentle kiss on her brow. “Now, into bed. You both have school in the morning, and then we'll go shopping for some furniture for the new house.”

“Yes Nanae,” They both say in sync, crawling beneath their comforters.

Melarue smiles and gives them both a quiet “Sweet dreams you two,” as they flip off the light switch and close the door.

–

When Selene wakes in the morning, she smells something warm and sweet. Carefully tucking her picture beneath her pillow, she sits up and notices that Aelynthi is already out of bed. Did she oversleep? Is she in trouble? What if she doesn't get to go to school today after all?

What if they just forgot she was even here?

Panicking, Selene changes as quickly as she can into the clothes from the bag Nialas brought and runs out to the living room “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to oversleep, please-”

“Wha'?” Aelynthi asks through a mouthful of syrup soaked waffle.

Selene blinks, watching as Melarue scoops a small stack onto a plate and places it on the table. “Don't talk with your mouth full Aelynthi. Selene, why don't you come have some breakfast?”

Selene nods slowly, eyeing the waffles on the table as she takes her seat. She didn't even know you could make those at home.

“Would you prefer orange juice or milk?” They ask.

“Orange juice, please.” Selene answers quietly, watching in awe as Aelynthi calmly cuts and eats his food. Like it's not going to end up in the trash if he doesn't finish it in time, or like he needs to split it into baggies as rations for the day. But as she adds a small pile of syrup next to her own food, and watches the filled all the way up glass placed gently at her spot, she feels something settle in her stomach. Maybe that's not how it works here, then. Maybe she can just...eat.

It's nice.

She manages to finish one and half waffles and all of her juice before she's too full to eat anymore. She feels bad, but Nanae Melarue says it's alright if she's done.

Aelynthi leaves to get dressed, because he was still in his pajamas for breakfast, and Selene clears the table as best she can while Melarue packs two lunches. She's stunned when they hand one to her in a small, colorful, insulated bag.

“Is this mine?” Selene asks, unzipping one corner to eye what's inside. There's...a lot more food than just a peanut butter sandwich. There's crackers, and juice, a banana, a sandwich, and even a couple of cookies inside.

“Of course it is,” They assure her.

Selene closes it back up, and holds the bag close to her chest “Thank you.”

Melarue just smiles and asks her to get her shoes on.

When Aelynthi comes back out, dressed and ready for the day with both of their backpacks, the three of them make their way towards the school. Together. The whole way.

It's nice, Selene thinks.

Melarue even walks them all the way to the classroom, and only leaves because they have to go tell the principal that Selene is Aelynthi's sister now.

Selene thinks that's a very polite way of saying her parents didn't want her, but doesn't push the point.

For now, she's just very grateful that somebody does.

#Muppet AU #Selene lavellan #Aelynthi #Melarue #Food TW #Selene is going to keep that picture forEVER #It's like the first gift she's ever gotten that wasn't just practical #It's her new treasure tbh

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coldeternalarchive · 8 years ago

Text

Matt’s Winter 4

Matt’s Winter 4/15 Matt/George

Matt took off walking, not waiting to see if Jorel or Aron were coming after him. That was the good thing about winter in California, it was cool enough but not freezing. The weather had just enough bite to spur him on to walk faster. He walked as far as the closest bus stop and caught a bus home.

George. What the actual hell? George had said nothing at all to him and hell, he had assumed George had kicked him out of the band. He hadn’t even spoken to George since he’d been back. Maybe he should change that? What if it was playing right into what Aron wanted? Why was it Aron’s fucking business anyway? As soon as he got home he showered and tried to forget everything. It wasn’t easy. In fact it wasn’t happening at all. He lay in bed thinking of George and Aron and Aron with Jorel. He had not really thought of George much, George was usually loud and pushy, or just loud in general, but...he had his moments he supposed. He couldn’t imagine what George saw in him. The blowhard Irish dude hadn’t said much to him on that tour and had stuck mainly with Dylan and Jordon. Still he had watched him kiss Jordon once and it seemed…..nice? He guessed. He liked George’s lips, and the more he thought of them the nicer they seemed. Aron had called George “FIsh lips” once and down deep Matt got the feeling Aron and George really didn’t like each other much. So why was Aron trying to set them up? Wondering this he fell asleep. When Matt made it to the kitchen the next day, his parents were rushing around in a happy state he had not seen them in in quite a while. One of his father’s wealthier colleagues was retiring and had invited everyone he knew on a free trip to Vegas to max out his expense account one last time. They were getting packed and chatting about all the shows they wanted to see and buffets they wanted to try. By the afternoon they had left him some money for food, told him to only drive if he needed to (even though he assured them his head was fine) and had left for the airport. Matt put back a little of the money for it’s intended purpose and then went straight to the liquor store. He wanted something cheap that would do the job fast and decided on Irish Whiskey and cheap grape wine that was more alcohol than anything. He went back to his room, put on the tv and began to drink. He drank through The Today Show, he drank through Wheel of Fortune and by the time Judge Judy came on he was actually enjoying himself quite a bit and decided to slow down a bit. He ordered a pizza, ate and went back to drinking. He thought of Aron, he thought of Jorel. He thought of how great it would be if both of them just ceased to exist. He dreamed of packing his things and going to a new place where no one knew him and no one had formed some fucked up opinion of him already. By the time the five o’clock news came on he decided he needed to see George. He needed to see if what Aron had said was true. If there was even a shred of truth to it all, he had to find out. He took the longest route he could, knowing full well he was too drunk to drive and not giving a shit either way. He avoided the freeways and cruised down back streets and alleys, barely dodging trash cans and a few kids who were still playing outside and not inside with an Xbox. Finally he lurched up to curb outside George’s house. He managed to navigate the sidewalk well enough but forgot about the front porch step and fell forward into the door. “What the hell?!” was the angry, muffled response from inside. The door opened before Matt could right himself and he fell into George despite the fact that his mind was telling his limbs desperately to move, move, move! “What----!? Oh, hey….” George grabbed his shoulders. “You okay?” He squinted. Just came by to say hello was what Matt said in his mind. “....Jello…” was what came out. “Um…...okay….you should come in.” George helped him inside the small house. “Sit down.” “I um….I….we hadn’t….um...talk?” Matt managed. “I’m gonna get you some water. Sit tight.” “Mmm..kay..” The couch Matt was sitting on had belonged to George’s grandmother. It was burnt orange and easily the ugliest thing Matt had ever seen. It always felt like he was sitting on a giant dead muppet. George brought him a glass of ice water from the tap and Matt sipped it cautiously, trying so hard to make his mouth form the words in his head. “I’m ….sorry….about the tour….we hadn’t…..I wanted to see you…” He managed before taking another drink. “Dude, don’t worry about that. Aside from drunk, how are you?” Matt shrugged. George eyed him. “Wanna do a line? I could at least understand you a bit better.” Everything in Matt told him he did not want to do this and yet his lips parted and said “Sure” George grinned and disappeared momentarily. He returned with a the smallest ziploc bag Matt sshad ever seen, carefully measured out some white powder and handed it and a straw to Matt. Matt closed his eyes and recalled every movie he’d ever watched on such things and imitated as best he could. Instantly his sinuses began to burn and it felt like he had swallowed sand and gravel or possibly Ajax. A second later he was no longer clouded, he was alert enough to know he did not want anymore. “Nope gotta do the other side too.” George laughed, pointing his other nostril. Matt did what he was told and the burning transferred itself to the other side of his face. “.....holy shit.” George just laughed and did some himself before carefully setting the small compact (where the hell did he get a make up compact anyway?) on the scratched up wooden coffee table.. “I….I got in a fight with Aron and went to sleep in the RV and… that’s when I got sick and I didn’t want to tell anyone because I didn’t want to be babied, because Jorel said I was a big baby anyway and I got sick and I swear I didn’t mean to pass out, and it cost us the tour. I am so sorry, dude! Do you hate me?” “You could have died! You scared the fucking hell out of me! No I don’t hate you. I’m just glad you’re okay!” “Really?” Matt slid a little closer. “Aron….um...said you stayed with me in the hospital.” “Yeah I’m fucking sorry I got us kicked out. I don’t like prissy bitches in uniform telling me what to do.” “Those were nurses, George.” “So?” “So I thought you fucking abandoned me!!! I had no idea where I was and I thought you kicked me out of the band and just ditched me somewhere!!” Matt yelled, the outburst taking him by surprise as much as George. “I sat on that bus for nine hours thinking I had no friends and that I deserved being left in a hospital in the middle of fucking nowhere!!” “No, no!!” George scooted closer. “We were there the whole time, we were just downstairs, I guess we didn’t think to get word to you. Dylan said you attacked him---” “Oh fuck him!!” George chuckled. “It’s okay, it’s over now.” Matt leaned closer. “George, are you….do you...you don’t hate me do you?I”” “Of course not.” Matt leaned forward. “Is there anything you need to tell me?” George frowned. “Um no I don’t think so. We didn’t make any money really on the tour, just barely had enough to get us back home. If we’d made any I’d give it to you. You can ask the others, nobody got anything.” “That’s not what I meant! Aron said…. Aron said you…” “I what?” “That you wanted...to get with me.” “He what!? When did he say that?” George was instantly hostile and in Matt’s mind that’s all the proof he needed that Aron was lying. “FUCK!!” Matt jumped from the couch. “Fucking Aron! I fucking hate him! He told me to come here! He told me to ask you and he knew! He fucking knew it wasn’t true! He just wanted me to make a fool of myself, him and Jorel---!!!” “Matt, it’s okay, Aron has a big mouth---!” Matt wasn’t listening, he was heading for the door. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I barged in and ruined your night!! You could have done anything else instead of babysitting me. Everything Jorel said was right!! FUCK! I am so stupid! ” “Hey!!” George grabbed his arm and it made him jump. “You’re not going anywhere. You were fucked up enough when you came here and I just made it worse. You’re not going back out. Come on over the crash room.” The crash room was a modified closet that George had attempted to make into an extra bedroom with a lamp and mattress on the floor for when any friend was too drunk to drive home. The mattress smelled like vomit but most of the time if you slept there you were too drunk to notice, at least until in the morning. Matt panicked, George had a vice grip on his arm. He wasn’t sure how mad George was or what he was going to do but he knew he was the cause and it was all Aron’s fault Worse, he knew he had to do what George said because he was in no state to fight him. What was George going to do to him? How mad was he? As all this went through his head, he burst into tears. “Come on, man. Lay down. I’m gonna get you some water. Gimmie your keys.” George didn’t wait, but pulled them from his pocket, the movement like a bolt of fear straight through Matt’s already overstimulated brain. “Jorel was right….I didn’t deserve Aron, he deserved better…...you all did, you should have left me….I’ve ruined the tour….you should have left me behind...I’m so sorry...” He mumbled to himself as George walked him the short distance and held his arm as he lowered himself on the mattress. “Dude, I know it’s hard but you need to sleep. Just lay down, okay? Stare at the ceiling, talk yourself down….I’ll be up anyway. I’ll stay up with you.” Matt wasn’t listening as he lay down on the mattress. Things were popping into his head faster and faster and he had no idea that those things weren’t staying in his head but coming straight out of his mouth. “I should have stayed on the bus. I should never have come back here. Jorel was right about everything. Why did I even try? I shouldn’t have come home. No one wants me here and I ruin everything…….tomorrow I’m going home….get some things and leave…they’ll never find my body...mom and dad are in Vegas, they’ll never know...I can leave a note saying we’re back on tour...they won’t even think to question it….why did I come back? Why didn’t I just keep going? Why did I listen to Aron? Why did I go over there? I should have never came here. Everyone hates me, everyone will be so happy when I’m so stupid, I should have known he was lying. Why the fuck would you care about me? Why did I have to wake up? Why couldn’t I have died and saved everyone the trouble?! I wanna go back! I wanna die!!!.” He babbled to himself until he fell asleep, not realizing George was just a few feet away the whole time. He had no idea what time it was when he woke up again. There was light coming in the windows and he felt like he had swallowed a sandbox. He sat up on the mattress and blinked. There, across the room, Aron sat staring at him. He jumped up but before he could even open his mouth or form a rational thought, Aron was already speaking. “George said you were talking about killing yourself..because of me..” “Get out the way.” Forgetting he did not have his keys, Matt aimed himself at the door. “NO!! George said you were going to go straight home and kill yourself!!” Aron stepped in front of him, standing in between him and the door. “Get away from me you fucking liar!!” Matt tried to sidestep him but George’s vocal counterpart was just as quick and moved once again between him and the door. Without thinking further Matt pulled back and punched Aron so hard he dropped to the floor. Aron popped back up, rubbing a hand over his injured mouth, but annoyingly staying put and Matt was just about to clock him again when suddenly he was face to face with the floor, the wind knocked out of him. It took him a full minute to catch his breath and realize George had tackled him. “Johnny what the hell?!” He blurted out, not thinking, just reacting. It was then he felt something locking tight around his wrists. “Don’t worry, I got his keys and he ain’t going anywhere.” Were those handcuffs? When did George get handcuffs and what was George going to do with him now? The panic was rising again even worse and he fought against George but was clearly going nowhere. From what he could see of the floor, Aron’s shoes were firmly planted and he wasn’t going anywhere either. Oh god, what are they going to do to me?! “Dude, don't hurt him.” He heard Aron say. “I’m not, I’m just going to keep him from leaving until he calms down…..Or hurting himself or punching me like he did you. You okay?” Aron sighed and his sneakers stayed where they were.. “Thanks for coming out so fast.” That voice belonged to George. “....Yeah…” Aron answered, sounding like he regretted it. “Sure you don’t want me to stay?” “Well as much as I’d love to watch him punch you again…” George started to laugh. “I got it from here.” Aron sighed again. “Okay, just don’t let him do anything.” His sneakers turned and walked from Matt’s line of vision. “Don’t worry, he’s not going anywhere until he calms down” Then the ground moved and Matt grunted as George pulled him to his feet and walked him into his own bedroom. Matt’s heartbeat in his own chest was now so fast it was painful and rushed in his ears like a tidal wave. “What the fuck are you doing?!” His voice came back to him in a yelp. “You’re gonna lay down here until you calm down and then we are going to talk.” George dumped him on the bed, not exactly gently, and took off Matt’s shoes and socks. “Want some water?” “Let me go you fucking pervert!! Get me out of these damn cuffs!! I’m sorry for what I said, all right?” “I don’t care what you say to me, you’re not getting up until you’ve calmed down and stopped talking about killing yourself.” “It’s none of your fucking business if I wanna kill myself.” Matt sat up, defiantly. George leaned down quickly, his nose nearly touching Matt’ “It is my fucking business because you’re my god damned friend, okay? We’re gonna talk later. Lay down and go back to sleep!” George growled and pushed him backwards, hard enough that Matt’s head hit the metal bed frame and momentarily he was knocked senseless. George didn’t seem to notice and stomped from the room, closing the door behind him. He lay on the unmade bed, heart thundering in his ears. If he craned his neck he could see the slanted shadows the venetian blinds cast on the walls. His head pounded and he closed his eyes thinking of the last time he had felt like this: small, trapped, cornered and helpless. It was in the RV after running from the room, after Aron and Jorel…….Aron and Jorel…… I’ve been played again….they’re going to tell everyone. I was going to kill myself. I SHOULD HAVE! I can never show my face again….. Not knowing how long he’d slept, if at all, Matt woke to find the house silent and himself still bound. He cleared his throat and found it was scratchy and dry as it had been before. He wondered absently if he could get up and duck his head under a dripping faucet but it seemed like too monumental a task. Had George left the air conditioner on? He didn’t hear it but suddenly the room seemed freezing. He reached for the bedspread, grabbed it in his shackled hands and then rolled over, trying to make a human burrito of himself as best he could. It was still cold but at least it was something. He thought of getting up and somehow trying to walk home with his hands cuffed behind him but he was just too tired. An ice cold hand on his face woke him up with a start. “Holy shit, you’re burning up!!!” It was George’s voice but it was too hard to open his eyes to look at him. “I’m so sorry. I left and…..lost track of time, forgot you were tied up…..shit!!” George’s hands were shaking as they sought his through the covers and suddenly with a click the handcuffs were pulled off him and his hands fell at his sides. You left me to go score, you fucking asshole, that’s why you lost track of time! The thought barely formed in Matt’s mind before it was gone. “I’m cold….” He managed, pulling the bedding around him once more and pressing himself hard against the mattress for warmth. “I’m so sorry.” George repeated. “I’m going to get you some aspirin.” Matt wrapped his arms around himself and fell asleep under the mess of covers he’d gathered around himself. He didn’t remember a thing until he was forced up from the deep waters of unconsciousness by George pushing something to his lips. Matt opened his eyes and saw a bottle of purple liquid with a squeeze top. Don’t drink it, it’s poison! He hates you! Everything would have been fine if you hadn’t opened your big mouth about how he wanted to fuck you. He tied you up and now that you’re weak he’s going to feed you poison and watch you die!!! “No, please…..please don’t…” Matt twisted his face away. “You have to drink something! You’re sick! I don’t know where your folks are. I don’t know how to help you if you won’t take any aspirin for your fever!!” George was clearly distraught but it was lost on Matt. It has to be poison, it’s purple, nothing else is purple! You made him mad and now he’s going to kill you!! You’re weak and you’re cold and you can’t fight back! You shouldn’t have hit Aron. He and Aron and Jorel are all in it together “I’m sorry!!” Matt sobbed. “Don’t make me!” “Dude, I’m not going to hurt you! It’s Gatorade for god’s sake! You want water instead? You have to drink something, you’ve been laying there for two days and I’ve been a complete asshole. Please drink something or I’m gonna have to take you to the hospital again.” Something had changed in George’s voice and Matt started calm down, the voices in his head going silent.- Water sounded good. He nodded. “All I have is aspirin. I’m gonna go borrow some money. I’m going to take care of you.” Matt was shaking so hard with chills he had to have help taking the aspirin and drank almost half the bottle of water before sliding back in bed and shuddering as he pulled the covers over him once more. (more to come)

#Matt/George #hu slash #HU fan fiction #hollywood undead fan fiction

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