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creative-soul-22 · 1 year

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15 questions, 15 mutuals

@moon-arts02 had this on her blog and I wanted to do it, too so here we go...

1. Are you named after anyone?

Yes. My paternal Grandmother. Just like 2 of my female cousins. I'm not kidding.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I actually don't cry a lot. I mean of course I sometimes tear up when a movie or a song really touches me deep inside (it's still new to me since this didn't happen in my earlier days) but actually crying? Like lying in bed crying a river? I don't remember.

I think it was in September when I was at Disneyland Paris. Seeing the Disney D-Light and the Disney Illumination show for the first time was so beautiful I got overwhelmed and cried like a fool. Just because it was so beautiful.

3. Do you have kids?

No. And I don't want to have kids. All that Relationship/family stuff is scary to me as I'm afraid I might screw it up. I'm not good at these things.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Well, I haven't thought about it yet. Do I? I don't use it like all the time but whenever I feel like it or when I'm really pissed off by somebody. I think that's when my sarcasm gets me. When I'm pissed.

5. What sports do you play/have played?

- running to the train station to catch the train

- running to the tram station to catch the tram

- walking up and down the stairs in the library

- stretching as far as I can to reach the top shelf

- walking up and down the library ladder

- walking around the library in general

- lifting big heavy books on my head

- try to keep the books on the shelf from falling with one hand while putting another book on the shelf with the other hand

- walking from one corner in my office to another

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

I don't know. With every person it's something different. I like to look at people as a whole, their overall appearance, not just their eyes or their hair, etc. I literally look at people from top to bottom. And the first thing I notice is possibly something remarkable. But what I always look at first is their faces so I guess that's what I notice first.

7. What's your eye colour?

Brown-green

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

I'm a DISNEY GIRL so ALWAYS AND FOREVER happy endings!😅

No, just kidding. I don't really like scary movies because they are - SPOILER! - scary and I have way to much fantasy and imagination to not be scared after a scary movie. Although during my last holiday I wanted to watch scary movies and watched almost all of the Conjuring Universe movies and wasn't scared. Don't know what was wrong with me that made wanna watch them but I have to admit it was pretty inspiring. Guess I had a little 1 week dark phase 😅

So I lean more to happy endings. But you know what's better than happy endings? Happy lives. Happy beginnings.

9. Any special talents?

Writing. Reading. Acting. Editing. Designing. Probably dancing?

Are these special talents?

But I'm not like a sword swallower, if that's what you mean.

10. Where were you born?

Munich!

11. What are your hobbies?

Writing. Reading. Editing. Dancing. Watching movies and TV-shows. Going to the cinema. Simping on stuff I love. Talking to people I like about things I like.

12. Do you have pets?

No. My father used to have a dog in Sicily called Baronetto. That's the closest I ever got to having pet (my father is Sicillian btw).

13. How tall are you?

1,50m in the tallest, I guess?

14. Favorite subject in school?

Oh, I LOVED my music classes in 8th/9th grade! My ex music teacher is so adorable and lovely and we're still in touch meeting from time to time. We just have tea and cookies then and talk about this and that. And we both relie on those conversations.

15. Dream job?

Author or actress, of course!

But I already found a very good job in a library. And I already live out my dreams so I don't necessarily have to be an author or an actress to make them come true.

But then again I'm still young so who knows? What is not yet can always come (or however the saying goes).

So, who's up next?

Feel free to do it when you want!

@moon-arts02 Wanna do a Melissa McCarthy/Ursula/Sookie version?

#tag game

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anaisvionet-blog · 1 year

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more jazz please

My roommates Leong, Sophie, (Charles) and I were coming from a Yale sporting event. The sky looked like a dirty Swiffer-mop and the wind seemed to be ignoring the posted 20mph speed limit. It was a typical spring day in New Haven, overcast, 65°, with intermittent, drizzling rain. I was thinking it was a good day to be a duck.

We were looking for something to gnaw on and a beverage - of the alcoholic variety. We picked up some Mike’s hard cider (featured in our refrigerator now), which proves college students really do plan for the future.

It was about 4pm and the streets were puddled, slick-looking and empty. The lone passing car sounded like it was riding on a sponge. I was wearing a navy blue, short sleeve Polo dress, a matching Polo bucket hat (for the rain) and a slub knit hoodie that I ‘borrowed’ from Sunny forEVER (seriously, I ordered her a replacement from Amazon) and Roxy boat shoes.

On a side street, a “party-bike” sat parked, sad and abandoned in the rain. A party-bike is a tram fitted up as a bar that slowly drives noisy drunks around. The drunks sit around a “U” shaped bar, on small, backless stools welded onto the tram. Yes, an open-air bar on wheels. I can’t help thinking that a lawyer came up with the idea, because what could go wrong?

The first time I saw a “sightseeing” party-bike was on Beale Street, in Memphis Tennessee. Memphis is the Disneyland of barbeque and the blues. Every storefront for blocks is an open air blues bar, a barbeque place or souvenir shop (or all three at once). Party-bikes make sense there, because intoxication is like oxygen in Memphis. It's a party-bikes native environment. In New Haven, they seem cheap, excessive and opportunistic.

As we were walking, in the distance, we heard the wail of a saxophone and a beat so clear, that the sound seemed to linger and shimmer in the air, like a cartoon neon ‘Jazz’ sign. We instantly turned that way and discovered it was coming from a place called “Three Sheets” which was having open-mic tryouts for the house band.

It’s a bar that serves food and there’s a ‘beer goddess’ painted on one wall. In Georgia, we’d call it a ‘fern bar.' We found a table in the darker back, out of the way, and settled in. A waitress quickly took our orders and brought us several IPA beers.

Near a platform stage, there were 6 or 8 musicians sitting around (with their instruments) waiting to take a turn forming a trio with the house drummer and bass who were laying down a constant beat. One would step in with a guitar and play for a hot minute, then a guy with the sax, another with a trumpet and yet another with a clarinet, it went on and on. They each had a solo, at some point, and it made me wonder why I don’t listen to more jazz.

Our afternoon of music was something Sophie had wished for. Earlier that morning, as we were leaving the residence, she’d said, “I wish there was a concert or something going on tonight - something musical,” and boom, we get this. Still, I don’t subscribe to the idea of holy intervention.

I hate it when I hear people say, “God never gives us more than we can handle.” I bristle, my head snaps in the direction of the speaker, I want to see who that dumb-ass is. My parents and sister are doctors, and believe me, people are dying every day in situations that are more than they can handle. Heart attacks, staph infections, gunshot wounds, covid, cancer - Uggg, sorry, I got off track and boiled-over there.

Anyway, we had some jazzy music and incredible Vietnamese pulled-pork sandwiches with fries and a smoky ketchup that I could have just drunk. . . *I put (Charles) in brackets because, as our driver and escort, he’s usually there in the background when we’re not in the residence. But his presence is circumscribed, because he’s not there socially. Is it rude not to include him in every narrative? I don’t know - it's a habit.

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boreothegoldfinch · 3 years

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chapter 11 paragraph viii

Inside the parking garage, which vibrated depressingly with olive-green light, there were a number of empty spaces in the long-term area despite the Full sign. As we nosed into the space a man in a sports coat lounging against a white Range Rover threw his cigarette in a spit of orange cinders and walked toward the car. His receding hairline, his tinted aviators and his taut military torso gave him the wind-whipped look of an ex-pilot, a man who monitored delicate instruments at some test site in the Urals. “Victor,” he said, when we got out of the car, crushing my hand in his. Gyuri and Boris received a thump on the back. After terse preliminaries in Russian, a baby-faced curly-headed teenager climbed out of the driver’s seat and was greeted, by Boris, with a slap on the cheek and a jaunty seven note whistle: On the Good Ship Lollipop. “This is Shirley T,” he said to me, rumpling the corkscrew curls. “Shirley Temple. We all call him that—why? Can you guess?”—laughing as the kid, unable to help it, smiled in embarrassment, displaying deep dimples. “Do not be deceived by looks,” said Gyuri to me quietly. “Shirley looks like baby but he has as much onions as any of us here.” Politely, Shirley nodded at me—did he speak English? it didn’t seem so— and opened the back door of the Range Rover for us and the three of us climbed in—Boris, Gyuri, and me—while Victor Cherry sat up front and talked to us from the passenger seat. “This should be easy,” he said to me formally as we pulled out of the garage and back out onto the Overtoom. “Straightforward pawn.” Up close his face was broad and knowing, with a small prim mouth and a wry alertness that made me feel somewhat less agitated about the logic of the evening, or the lack of it: the car changes, the lack of direction and information, the nightmare foreignness. “We are doing Sascha a favor and because of that? He is going to behave nice to us.” Long low buildings. Disjointed lights. There was a sense that it wasn’t happening, that it was happening to someone who wasn’t me. “Because can Sascha walk in bank and get a loan on the painting?” Victor was saying, pedantically. “No. Can Sascha walk in a pawn shop and get a loan on the painting? No. Can Sascha due to circumstances of theft go to any of his usual connections from Horst and get a loan on the painting? No. Therefore Sascha is extremely glad of the appearance of mystery American—you—who I have hooked him up with.” “Sascha shoots heroin the way that you and I breathe,” said Gyuri to me quietly. “One stitch of money and he is out buying big load of drugs like clockwork.” Victor Cherry adjusted his glasses. “Exactly. He is not art lover and he is not particular. He is utilizing picture like high interest credit card or so he thinks. Investment for you—cash for him. You front him the money—you hold the painting as security—he buys schmeck, keeps half, steps on the rest and sells it, and returns with double your money in one month to pick up the painting. And if? In one month he does not return with double your money? The painting is yours. Like I said. Simple pawn.”

“Except not so simple—” Boris stretched, and yawned—“because when you vanish? and bank draft is bad? What can he do? If he runs to Horst and calls for help on this one he will have his neck broken for him.” “I am glad they have changed the meeting place so many times. It is a little bit ridiculous. But it helps because today is Friday,” said Victor, taking off his aviators and polishing them on his shirt. “I made them think you were backing out. Because they kept cancelling and changing the plan—you did not even arrive until today, but they do not know that—because they kept changing the plan I told them you were tired and nervous of sitting around Amsterdam with suitcase of green waiting to hear from them, you’d rebanked your moneys and were flying back to U.S. They did not like to hear that. So—” he nodded at the bag—“here it is the weekend, and banks are closed, and you are bringing what cash you have, and—well, they have been talking to me plenty, lots of time on the phone and I have met with them once already down in a bar in the Red Light, but they have agreed to bring the painting and make the exchange tonight without prior meeting of you, because I have told them your plane leaves tomorrow, and because they have fucked around on their end it is bank draft for the balance or nothing. Which —well, they did not like, but they accepted as proper explanation for bank draft. Makes things easier.” “Much easier,” said Boris. “I was not sure how bank draft was going to go over. Better if they think the bank draft is their own fault for dicking around.” “What’s the place?” “Lunchcafe.” He pronounced it as one word. “De Paarse Koe.” “That means ‘the Purple Cow’ in Dutch,” said Boris helpfully. “Hippie place. Close to the Red Light.” Long lonely street—shut-up hardware stores, stacks of brick by the side of the road, all of it important and hyper-significant somehow even though it was speeding by in the dark much too fast to see. “Food is so awful,” said Boris. “Sprouts and some hard old wheat toast. You would think hot girls go there but is just old gray-head women and fat.” “Why there?” “Because quiet street in the evening,” said Victor Cherry. “Lunchcafe is closed, after hours, but because semi-public nothing will get out of control, see?” Everywhere: strangeness. Without noticing it I’d left reality and crossed the border into some no-man’s-land where nothing made sense. Dreaminess, fragmentation. Rolled wire and piles of rubble with the plastic sheeting blown to the side. Boris was speaking to Victor in Russian; and when he realized I was looking at him, he turned to me. “We are only saying, Sascha is in Frankfurt tonight,” he said, “hosting party at a restaurant for some friend of his just got out of jail, and we are all of us confirmed on this from three different sources, Shirley too. He thinks he is being smart, staying out of town. If it gets back to Horst what has happened here tonight he wants to be able to throw up his hands and say, ‘Who, me? I had nothing to do with it.’ ” “You,” said Victor to me, “you are based in New York. I have said you are an art dealer, arrested for forgery, and now run an operation like Horst’s— much smaller scale in terms of paintings, much larger in terms of money.” “Horst—God bless him,” said Boris. “Horst would be the richest man in New York except he gives it all away, every cent. Always has. Supports many many persons besides himself.” “Bad for business.” “Yes. But he enjoys company.” “Junkie philanthropist, ha,” said Victor. He pronounced it philanthropist. “Good they die off time to time or who knows how many schmeckheads crammed in that dump with him. Anyway—less you say in there, the better. They will not be expecting polite conversation. This is all business. It will be fast. Give him the bank draft, Borya.” Boris said something sharp in Ukrainian. “No, he should produce it himself. It should be from his hand.” Both bank draft, and deposit slip, were printed with the words Farruco Frantisek, Citizen Bank Anguilla, which only increased the sense of dream trajectory, a

track speeding up too fast to slow down. “Farruco Frantisek? I’m him?” Under the circumstances it felt like a meaningful question—as if I might be somehow disembodied or at least had passed beyond a certain horizon where I was freed of basic facts like identity. “I did not choose the name. I had to take what I could get.” “I’m supposed to introduce myself as this?” There was something wrong with the paper, which was too flimsy, and the fact that the slips said Citizen Bank and not Citizen’s Bank made them look all wrong. “No, Cherry will introduce you.”

Farruco Frantisek. Silently I tried the name out, turned my tongue around it. Even though it was a hard name to remember, it was just strong and foreign enough to carry the lost-in-space hyperdensity of the black streets, tram tracks, more cobblestones and neon angels—back in the old city now, historic and unknowable, canals and bicycle racks and Christmas lights shaking on the dark water. “When were you going to tell him?” Victor Cherry was asking Boris. “He needs to know what his name is.” “Well now he knows.” Unknown streets, incomprehensible turns, anonymous distances. I’d stopped even trying to read the street signs or keep track of where we were. Of everything around me—of all I could see—the only point of reference was the moon, riding high above the clouds, which though bright and full seemed weirdly unstable somehow, void of gravity, not the pure anchoring moon of the desert but more like a party trick that might pop out at a conjurer’s wink or else float away into the darkness and out of sight.

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rocksandrobots · 4 years

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Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 14 - Bot Fighting

Varian stood outside the convenience store next to the trolley stop, bags in hand. He had run out of minutes on his cell phone and Wasabi had lent him some money to buy a new phone card and a few other items he needed.

Varian gave a frustrated sigh and looked at his watch. The tram was running late and he was getting tired of standing in the heat of the day. But he was even more annoyed that he had to ask to borough money again.

Varian had been in this new world for three weeks now, and while the full scholarship Professor Granville had given him granted most of the necessities he needed, such as student housing, free meals at the school cafeteria, free credit at the college store for school supplies and textbooks, and even a student pass for the city's public transit, it didn't cover extras like his phone bill or anything else he might want to buy.

He had tried to get a part-time job like his friends, but that was proving to be a difficult task. Most of the applications he'd had put in online he wouldn't ever hear back from and the few he'd applied to in person got turned down almost immediately. Usually either citing his age or his student visa as cause for not hiring him.

He was just thinking of some other options to make money when a man dressed in leather and riding on a motorcycle pulled up. The man parked the bike, got up, and taped a piece of paper to the pole of the bus sign.

Curious Varian peered over the man's shoulder to read the flier.

BOT FIGHT TONIGHT

WINNER

$5,000 GRAND PRIZE

Call 'Louie' for details.

"Uh, excuse me, but are you 'Louie?' Varian politely asked.

"Who wants to know?" Was the man's reply.

"Well, umm, what's a bot fight?"

The man looked surprised. "You really don't know?"

Varian shook his head.

The other man narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't be pulling my leg now would ya?"

Varian shook his head no a second time.

"It's a competition. Competitors pit the robots they've built against each other. First robot down or destroyed loses."

"Can anyone join?"

"So long as you got a ‘bot and some cash you can."

"Cash? You mean like for an entry fee?" Varian grew disappointed. He was sure he could win a competition like that with ease but he didn't have much money left. "How much money do you need?" Varian asked against all hope.

"Depends, how much do ya got?"

Varian dug into his pocket. "Uh… Ten dollars."

"Hmm… well that's a start anyways. Here ya go kid and good luck."

The man gave Varian a small business card with the name of a restaurant, directions, and a phone number.

"It starts at 6 PM, but get there earlier if possible to sign up." And with that the man got back on his bike and drove away.

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Varian raced back to his lab as soon as the bus let him off. He had called the number on the business card and the woman over the phone told him the rules of the game. Turns out there was a height and weight limit to the robots allowed to enter, so he would only need to build a small automaton to fight with. He could whip one up in a couple of hours, he was sure.

Once he had finished crafting the miniaturized war machine he headed back to the dorms to drop off his purchases and prepare to head out. Wasabi wasn’t there when Varian arrived, otherwise Varian would have invited him along. His friend apparently had a group project that he was working on after school. So Varian simply left him a note telling the other teen where he had gone.

“Hey Ruddgier, sorry to keep you cooped up here all day but I’m afraid they won't allow raccoons at the bot fight.” Varian scratched behind his pet’s ears. “But I did get you a present while I was out.”

Varian pulled out a bag full of apples and Ruddiger practically crawled all over him trying to get at his favorite treat.

“Okay, Okay,” Varian laughed. “You can have some.” He put the bag inside the kennel. He didn’t have the heart to lock the cage’s door though. He hoped the fruit would be enough to keep his pet busy and out of trouble until Wasabi returned that afternoon.

“I gotta go now, so be good, okay, buddy.” Varian ordered, and with that he grabbed his coat and mini automaton and headed out the door.

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“Guys, we have a problem!” Wasabi burst through the Big Hero Six headquarters waving a note in the air.

“I’ll say, Roddy still hasn’t finished the wiring!” Fred said ruefully, not paying attention to his friend.

“Hey, you can’t rush fine craftsmanship.” Said a large man hanging from the rafters. He was dressed in overalls and had a bushy red beard. In his hands were wires and a soldering iron.

Fred had been insisting that the gang needed a HQ to work out of for months. None of the other members had thought it necessary, but they finally relented when Fred offered to pay for the whole thing using an old abandoned candy factory his family owned and a well respected architect known for building superhero lairs named Roddy. The jury was still out on whether or not this was a good decision but it tended to keep Fred out of trouble so the gang thought it worth it in the end.

“No not that! This!” Wasabi yelled and shoved the note into Fred’s face.

“Dear Wasabi, gone to a bot fight. Would have invited you but you were busy. See you later tonight. Signed Varian.” Fred read.

“Oh no.” Gogo groaned. “He doesn't know ‘bot fights are illegal.”

‘We have to find him,” Hiro said with determination, ”before he gets himself into trouble.”

“Should we suit up?” Honey Lemon asked.

Hiro turned down the idea. “No, we don't wanna start a fight and risk having Varian or others caught in the middle.”

The rest of the gang huddled around him as he strategized a plan. “Now they tend to rotate where the fights are held into order to evade the police so we’re going to need to split up. There’s at least five possible places in Good Luck Alley alone so, Gogo you take the Red Room. Wasabi hit up the Union Sports Bar. Honey Lemon, I need you to check out the Koi; that’s like a spa but it’s got a hidden arena underneath. Fred there’s the usual warehouse on second street and Baymax and I will head to Louie’s. They know me there so it’ll be easier for me to get in.”

“And remember, we’re only going there to get Varian, so find him and then leave. Nothing else.” Gogo admonished looking right at Hiro when she said this.

Hiro looked hurt but he understood where Gogo was coming from. He loved the sport, but it had caused enough trouble in his life and he didn't need any more of that.

“Okay, any more questions? Good. Then we’ll meet back up in front of the Good Luck Arcade and then go from there.” And with that the gang headed out to search for their friend.

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Hiro peered around the corner of the building and down a short alleyway to see the flashing neon sign advertising the restaurant. A burly man guarded the doorway and was checking individuals over before allowing them in.

“Okay, Baymax,” Hiro said turning back to his faithful companion, “I don't think the bouncer is going to let you in so you wait right here and if I’m not out in an hour call the others, alright?”

“I do not think it is a good idea for you to go in alone, but if you insist I will wait right here.” The robot blinked his coal black eyes and dutifully stood to attention on the sidewalk.

“Don’t worry, they know me here, it’ll be fine. Thanks Baymax.” And with that Hiro walked over towards the guard.

“Ya here to fight or to watch?” Asked the tall man.

“Watch; I wanna get to know the competition.” Hiro lied. This seemed to satisfy the bouncer and after paying the man ten bucks Hiro was allowed entrance.

The restaurant was crowded with spectators and dimly lit. Chairs were sacked and tables were pushed out of the way to make room for the event, with a single spot light hanging down on a short stage at the back. Though Hiro couldn’t see who was competing at the moment due to all the people standing in the way.

“What are you doing here?” came an annoyed voice behind him, and Hiro turned around to see who it was. A tall, lanky woman with an eye patch and hair piled high up on her head in a bun glowered over him.

“Hi Fujita.” Hiro gulped. “Look I’m not here to cause any trouble, I’m just looking for a friend. Have you seen him? He’s about my age, so high, has black hair with a blue streak in it, and he usually wears goggles.”

The woman rolled her eyes as she recognized the description. “You mean the new champ? He’s on stage right now.” She stuck her thumb out and gestured towards the back before walking off to collect bets for the next match.

Hiro thanked her and started to push his way through the crowd. He saw Varian sitting cross legged on the small stage, with a pile of cash next to him and fiddling with a bot. Varian spotted him as soon as he made it to the edge of the platform.

‘Oh, Hiro! Hey!” Varian exclaimed a huge grin splitting his face. “I’m glad you could make it. Look how much money I made!” He gleefully held up a wad of cash. “Now I got a enough money to pay everyone back; for everything, the phone, the clothes, and even that book you bought me. Here.”

Varian handed Hiro the money and Hiro was at a loss for words. His new friend was so earnest, so sincere, and so completely oblivious to the den of debauchery he was currently in. It would have been comical if not for the fact that Hiro knew first hand just how quickly things could go wrong here.

“What!? No! First, that was a present, you don't need to pay me back, and second we need to get out of here, now.” Hiro said firmly.

Varian looked at him with wide eyes. ”But why? I’m winning!” He laughed.

Hiro, made to answer, but was interrupted by Fujita coming up on stage and announcing the next match.

“Now folks, it’s time for the final round!’ She enthusiastically yelled. “Yama versus the new kid, Varian!” The crowd cheered as a large heavy set man dressed in a sweat suit appeared from behind the curtain.

Hiro’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the mob boss. Things were getting out of hand now; time to call back up. Hiro stepped off to the side and pulled out his phone to text Wasabi when a muscle bound goon stanched it out of his hand.

“Hey! Give it back!” He yelled and jumped up to make a grab for it. But the thug was too tall for the short teen and held the device high above his head.

“No cell phones.” He growled and Hiro slunk back over to the stage.

His despondent mood turned quickly to curiosity though when he saw what Varian was up to.

The time-displaced teen was winding up a crank on the back of his robot. He set the machine down and it began to jerkily walk forward as a creepy music box like melody played.

youtube

Yama stared at the dinky looking bot for a moment before bursting out in raucous laughter. “You gotta be kidding me. You’re going to fight me with a little wind up doll!? Bwahaha. What is this a bot fight or a toy tournament!? Someone get me a real competitor.”

Varian gave the man a smirk. “What’s the matter? A big man like you afraid of a little toy?” He sarcastically taunted and Yama looked like he was about to burst a vein in anger.

“It’s on, you little twerp!” The mob boss roared and Hiro grimaced. This wasn’t going to end well.

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Baymax stood dutifully on the sidewalk corner. His internal clock ticked down the minutes until the hour was up, when he would then be needed to call upon the others. Hiro still had a good twenty minutes left though and Baymax's hadn't been alerted to any other emergencies.

Just then the robot's auditory sensors picked up the whirring sound of sirens coming closer. Three patrol cars pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the restaurant he was standing next to.

"Oh no." Baymax bemoaned.

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Hiro was beside himself. On the one hand, Varian was winning. On the other hand, Varian was winning.

Yama was a sore loser who got to the top by stepping on others. If Varian lost the fight he would owe money that he simply didn't have. If he won, then Yama would probably tell his goons to beat them both up and take the money anyway. Either outcome more or less ended with a trip to the emergency room for one of them unless Hiro could get his friend out of there quickly.

That was easier said than done since all eyes were on the young alchemist at the moment, including Hiro's.

Varian's robot was a marvel. Hiro didn't know what the thing was made of but it was near indestructible. It ran on pre-programmed instructions and didn't need the use of a remote unlike the other bots. Therefore it's movements were more clunky but it's blows hit harder. Just chipping away chucks of its opponent with each connecting hit. Moreover, on the rare occasions Yama's bot was able to land in it's own blow, it would only wind up damaging itself in the process while Varian's bot remained unscathed.

Soon enough Yama's robot sputtered and sparked and then shut down and Varian was proclaimed the winner.

"Awe, too bad." The goggle wearing teen gloated while he shoveled money into his pockets. "Maybe you'll win next time, hun?"

Yama just glared at Varian from across the stage and Hiro could sense the mob boss's thugs crowding closer around them. Hiro climbed up on the stage and started to tug at his friend's sleeve.

"Okaay. Time to get going then." He nervously said while his friend still gathered up his things.

“What’s the rush?” Said the minion who had stolen Hiro’s phone earlier. He now stood right behind the two boys blocking their exit.

“Oh no rush, but it’s not like he has anything left to fight with?” Varian snickered, still unaware of the danger they were in.

“Oh don’t I?” Yama replied, cracking his knuckles into a fist and standing to his full height.

Varian visibly shrank at the sight, “Heeey, now, I thought this was just a friendly competition.” He nervously laughed. “No need to get bent out of shape. Am I right, Louie?” Varian turned to the tall goon behind them, looking for backup. None came.

Varian gulped, “Fujita?”. But the tall woman made no move to help either. He looked around wide eyed, desperately hunting for a friendly face.

“Sorry, kid nothing personal,” said ‘Louie’, “but Yama pays the light bill.”

“Oh.” Varian hollowly said as realization finally dawned on him.

Hiro stepped in, “Look, you can keep the money. We just don't want any trouble.”

“Awe, too bad,” Yama threw back Varian’s words, “but, hey maybe next time you’ll know better?” And with that Varian and Hiro braced themselves as the gang started to surround them.

Just when Hiro thought things couldn’t get worse, the cops busted down the door.

“Everyone, hands up! This is a raid!”

#varian #hiro #yama #big hero 6 #bh6 #BH6 the series #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts #rta

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sevenseasofrog · 6 years

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Lads ‘n Lasses

pairing: highschool!ben x fem!reader

summary: single sex schools are never boring

word count: 2982

a/n: wagwan gs, this might not be to everyone’s taste but i’ll see how it goes, this is the first time i’ve imagined myself as the reader while writing ?? not as someone else reading it ?? it’s also set in a manchesterish sort of place bc i had a major mind block trying to write about anywhere else other than where i actually live ,, that probably sounds weird idk aha, it’s defo an au where ben basically is still in education and all sorts of chaos takes place as the year moves forward ,, anyway ,, enjoy !! if you have any questions or likewise feel free to send an ask bc i see how it could be semi confusing ,, love u all a lotta :) ❤️

here’s also some stuff that could make it less confusing (especially if you’re not familiar with lingo from north west england, i’ll maybe add to this with each new chapter that comes out :)

St. Mary’s/ Mary’s- the all girls school the reader attends, quite middle class and full of students who like to make drama for their own entertainment, strong focus on languages and arts

St. Peter’s/ St. Pete’s - the all boys ‘brother’ school to St. Mary’s, very laddish with a focus on sports and science

Niamh & Maria - the reader’s two closest and longest friends

Tram/Met - British version of an overground subway?

Shout - another word for a houseparty

Snide - unfair

Swear down - saying you are telling the truth

also, the reader and ben are between the ages of like 17 and 18ish, the whole thing isn’t very accurate to the uk school system but it works a little better like that so yall are gonna have to go with it aha

ps, this chapter is spilt in two bc i got very carried away when writing it and tumblr has a word limit, hmph. however, that does technically mean that i can say i’ve written two chapters not just one ?? go me !!

Chapter 1: September

4th of September, the night before a new term, new academic year and a nearly fresh start. Your last year at St Mary’s had not been something you were dreading so to speak, and now it was finally here. Thanks to upcoming exams, you only had a little over five months to get through before freedom, and eventually, a completely clean slate at a new, far less intimidating school environment. Anticipation building, you called it a night

6:15am. You woke up to the painful sound of your alarm clock, early morning sun peeking through the split between the curtains. Eager to silence the blaring noise you crawled out of the comfort of the duvet and hastily clicked the stop button in the centre of your phone screen. You made your way into the bathroom, careful not to wake your parents, brushed your teeth and quickly got undressed before stepping into the shower, letting the cool water run down your back without getting your hair wet, since you had it cut and washed yesterday afternoon. Slipping on your school uniform you caught eye of yourself in the mirror and decided that you had nothing to lose by putting on a little makeup, you had time after all. It was about 7am when you made your way downstairs, the house still quiet with only you awake. These mornings were the ones you liked best, just you and your own thoughts, with no one to bother you other than the dogs. It was still relatively warm during the September days so you chose to leave your jumper hung over a chair in the kitchen, putting just your blazer over your crisp, white blouse. Throwing an apple and cereal bar into your bag for later in the day, you figured that you might as well also pack some paracetamol and chewing gum for good measure, knowing it would come in handy eventually. You headed into the hallway to sit on the bottom step of the stairs to put your shoes on, tying the laces as tight as you possibly could, slung the black tote over your shoulder and grabbed your set of keys, which were usually on a hook which your dad had attached to the wall earlier in the year.

The walk to the tram stop was pleasant enough. There was no real breeze and you walked with your hands in you pockets to the beat of the music. Skipping down the steps to the platform to buy a ticket for the week, the change rattled in your pocket, and you had to cover it to stop anything flying out. Once you had finally managed to get the machine to produce a ticket after it spat out the coins you tried to use a few times, you spun round and walked towards the sheltered seats down the further end of the stop. It was only 7:45 by this stage and there were still very few people around. Missing the school rush was certainly worth it for you, and it also meant there was time to grab a coffee on the way to school with Niamh and Maria, who both got on at later stops anyway. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, deciding to text your parents, as you did every morning to let them know you were okay. You skipped a few songs before slipping your phone back into your pocket and looking up to examine your surroundings, following a good few weeks of not coming to the somewhat grimy metro stop, nothing had changed. The ground was still caked in chewing gum, graffiti littered the ticket machines, and the bin was, as ever, overflowing.

There was one thing different though, slightly odd too. A blonde haired boy who you had never seen before was stood on the opposite platform. Weird. It was then that you noticed he was in the uniform for St. Peter’s, with a backpack hung on one shoulder and a gym bag on the floor- grim move from the newbie. It suddenly hit you however. He was on the wrong platform, and could end up getting on a tram further into the city centre rather than away from it. God, this was awkward. You could leave him? it would be kind of funny? but also a bit snide.

No.

Don’t do that you told yourself. Deciding to ‘start the new term right’ you cleared your throat before shouting across

“You going to St. Pete’s mate?”

He looked up from the ground, obviously somewhat confused, checking to see whoever the person who had shouted was talking too. Luckily, this was quite easy, given that he then noticed that he was in fact the only person on the platform. You gave a wave and as friendly a smile as you could muster given it wasn’t even 8 o’clock yet, in a desperate attempt to get his attention, which just so happened to work.

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Because given that you’re on the wrong platform, you’re gonna have a very hard time getting there”. His jaw dropped a little

“You are joking, right?”

“Nope!”, you popped the ‘p’, just for emphasis, “So... are you just gonna stand there like a lemon or change platforms then?”. He quickly picked his bag off the ground and jogged up the steps to the bridge. As he crossed you rolled the waistband of your skirt up, realising that you previously looked a little to nun-ish for your liking. By the time you had finished fixing up your appearance the mysterious blonde was plodding down the steps, towards you. Shit. Now what?

You had just about composed yourself by the time he reached you.

“Ben. Ben Jones” he spoke, before offering his hand to shake.

“You’re very proper aren’t you!?”, you thought out loud “guessing you're not from up here then hm? Name’s y/n l/n by the way, I go to St. Mary’s”, you said, trying to remain friendly.

“Yeah, moved up from Bournemouth at the start of summer. My parents wanted to come up here so I had a chance of getting some sort of sports scholarship or something for rugby, y’know, for uni and that”. He spoke with quite a low, quiet voice, but definitely had a southern accent that you couldn’t imagine going any time soon. Now he was stood nearer, you had managed to get a clearer picture of Ben; he was very well built and had the physique of a genuine sportsman, He wasn’t too tall- but still taller than you by a considerable amount. His facial features were mostly soft, although his nose looked like it could have been broken in past games and he had the most striking green eyes.

“Well, you’d have had a pretty difficult time getting anywhere if you were stuck in the centre of town.” you both let out a laugh.

“Honestly, I’m such a melt, only I could do that on one of the few days that being on time actually matters”. You broke eye contact momentarily to see that a tram was approaching.

“Right then” you said, stepping towards the edge of the platform. “We’re a bit early but I normally get a coffee anyway, you can come if you want? I mean, you don’t have to get this one if you don’t want but if you do then the offer’s there..” You trailed off, noticing that you had waffled on a bit.

“Aha, no it’s fine! I’d be happy to get this one, you’re literally the first person I’ve spoken to who’s like, my age so it’s not like I have anyone to wait for. Plus, I’ll probably get lost if you abandon me now.” He looked up with puppy dog eyes after picking his gym bag off the floor again.

Stepping on the tram, you decided to offer him your first piece of valuable advice; “Right… Well. If we’re gonna be mates I better give you the rules of the road up here”.

“Go on then, local expert”, he said with a smirk.

“First things first. Don’t put your bag on the floor. It’s crusty and makes you look like a gimp”.

“Noted”, he spoke as the pair of you sat on the grey seats.

“Second. Most of the boys are maniacs and the girls are awful bitches, I’d say that I’d help you figure out who’s who but you’ll probably be able to decide for yourself”.

“Hm, you’re really selling it to me. The brutal honesty is a nice touch”. You gave a playful punch to the side of his arm, with a grin smeared across your face.

“Swear down mate, you’ll thank me later for this though.”

The journey passed in a flash, the pair of you talking like friends reunited. You learnt that he had a beagle named Frankie, lived not too far from you, he played rugby for teams but also enjoyed drama and music.

“You’re quite the character aren’t you! can’t say I took you for a performing arts kinda guy”

“Well… What kind of person did you take me as then, all knowing-y/n”

“Well Ben from Bournemouth.. that would be telling wouldn’t it, I can tell you however that this is our stop though”. You both stood up, grabbing your bags and heading for the doors of the carriage. You had a text from Niamh and Maria earlier on in the journey saying they’d be late and there was no point waiting for them, so you carried on the walk alone with Ben.

“If I left you here right now, would you have any clue where to go?” you questioned, genuinely intrigued.

“Erm.. no… I would have to stand around for a bit and hope someone takes pity on me”

“What about google maps though??”

“Hmm.. Let’s just say that there’s a reason I don’t take geography”

The coffee shop was about the same distance from the tram stop as is was from school, and it was about 20 past 8 when you pushed open the door with a small chime. It was a cosy little café, situated on the corner of the market street with wicker chairs outside and brown leather sofas inside. You never stayed in however, much preferring to enjoy whatever you brought during the rest of the walk to school. Today was a latte day, no questions asked. You liked to rotate throughout a few different drinks, depending on your mood. Ben stood close by as you explained how you’d most definitely be on black coffee by this time next week, but you might have the odd pumpkin spiced latte as September moved into October, just for novelty really. He gave out a small chuckle,

“You really are in a league of your own aren’t you? I’ve known you like an hour and I’m convinced you hold the secrets of the universe or some shit”. You liked Ben. He was good company and you had a fair bit in common;

“and what if I did hold the secrets of the universe huh?”

“I’d use the black market to sell you to a looney philosopher somewhere or other and make myself some fat stacks.” You both doubled over in complete hysterics. Would it be weird to say that you’d never bonded so quickly with someone? yeah, probably you thought, brushing the idea away quickly. Your giggle fit was quickly broken up however when the barista announced that your drink was ready, you fished the loose change out of your pocket and handed it over moments later,

“keep the change mate” you said politely, turning on your heel towards the door once again.

“You really are quite the angel aren’t you?” the boy walking next to you said “ooooo, keep the change mate, I’m y/n and I am the source of all life and joy” he mocked.

“You know it blondie”, you retorted with a smirk.

You had walked a fair deal further, now following the main road and considerably nearer to school when Ben reached into his inside pocket .pulling out a cigarette and lighter. You silently watched out of the corner of your eye as he held the stick in his mouth and lit one end, he inhaled deeply before taking it from between his lips to exhale. Before his could bring his hand back up however, you plucked it from his fingers and drew a breath from it yourself before throwing it down and stamping on it. Ben simply stood with his mouth hung open looking dumbfounded. “Whoa steady on...What the fuck was that about then? Oh… and for the record, you owe me a cig now!”, he spoke with a tone of shock mixed with annoyance

“Boo-Hoo”, you spoke back, “But neither of us can have a first day back if we get excluded before we even get to school you dimwit. There’s teachers stood by the traffic lights down there”, you pointed further down the pavement. “See for yourself if you want…” you trailed off. Ben looked a little guilty, realising that he could have got you both in a good deal of trouble,

“Ah, Right, Okay… Sorry about that..”

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly. It’s fine, you’re new! You’ve got a lot to learn still”, you gave him a reassuring smile, but you could tell that he still felt a twinge of regret.

The pair of you carried on the walk in a comfortable silence, and as you approached St. Peter’s a thought struck you. “Right. After school, wait for me here, I don’t really want you being lost in a new town stuck on my conscience all night”

“How noble of you, Miss y/l/n! How will I ever repay you for this selfless act of charity!” He exaggerated, running his hands through his hair as he spoke.

“We’ll have to see about that one won’t we, I guess”, You hitched your bag back onto your shoulder properly. Before he turned into the courtyard of his new school he grabbed your arm,

“Wait a minute... you give off way too much chaotic energy for things to run smoothly. What’s your snap or your number or something incase something goes horribly wrong” He spoke again, with a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“Hm, go on then, I’ll give you my number then you can just add me on snapchat with it too if you really want. Two birds with one stone ‘n all that”, you reached into your bag and pulled out a pen. “Gimmie something to write on, chop chop matey!” you spoke hurridley, realising that you only had 10 minutes before you needed to be sat down in your first registration of the academic year. In a panic, he stuck out his hand, and you began to scribble down the first few digits.

“Fucking hell! I thought you were writing it down not tattooing it!”, he took in a sharp breath.

“Hm.. What.. Wait! Shit, sorry.. I’m a bit heavy handed”. You finished writing the numbers down with a conscious attempt not to press quite so hard and then threw the pen back into your bag.

“Aight then, I’ll see you later yeah?” He looked up at you,

“See ya later lemon boy”. You shot another smile before continuing on a few meters further down the path and approached the gates of St. Mary’s.

Hello old friend, you thought before taking a deep breath and turning into the school, with no way out for the next few hours at least. You stepped hurriedly through the labyrinth of corridors before reaching the room where you’d be registered. Throwing your bag onto your usual desk you could feel two sets of eyes on you.

“y/n l/n, You have some explaining to do! go on then, who’s the boy?” Niamh began, a devilish grin on her face.

“Gimme a second to sort my life out yeah? I just need to get my bearings then you can interrogate me”, you spoke, followed by a heavy sigh. After you put your bag in your new locker you returned to the desk where you were greeted by your long time friends once again. “Wait a minute, how do you even know? started hiring government spies or some shit?”

“Erm, no. But that’s quite a good idea actually. If you’re that desperate to know, Lewis sent me a message asking if you’d got a boyfriend over summer..” You let out a scoff before Maria could continue. “He still really likes you ya know?”

“Yes mum, I do know, you remind me most days” You all let out a laugh, attracting some attention from the neighboring tables.

“We’re off topic, you still need to explain yourself and we have like, 3 minutes until the bell goes” Niamh interrupted, she had always been the most conscious member of the group, as much as both you and Maria hated to admit.

“Right, I’ll keep it simple. I was at the met stop and he was stood on the wrong side so I told him to switch otherwise he’d never make it to school then he told me that his name’s Ben and he’s new and he’s in our year and then we got on the tram and then we went to get coffee then he decided he wanted a smoke and then I told him off and then we got to school and then I told him I’d meet him after school then I walked into school and now I’m here with you two” You barely paused for breath and gasped before either of your friends could continue, both of them looking shocked and rather confused.

“Right. You can explain that all again later in a bit only at least 76 times slower. ok? thanks? nice” is all Maria managed to respond before the door swung open and your teacher walked in...

Hope you enjoy !!❤️

Let me know if you want adding to the taglist !! :)

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 5 years

Text

The French Connection - Chapter 11

A HardyxMiller AU

Ellie Miller is left to go on her honeymoon alone after a devastating secret about her fiance comes to light - halfway through the wedding ceremony. Sitting in St Pancras International in London waiting for her train, she runs into none other than her uni rival/best friend Alec Hardy, on the run from his own recent heartbreak.

They decide to make use of Ellie’s pre-paid trip, rekindling their friendship and escaping real life; yet, it turns out their years at uni are the hardest to outrun. Based on this prompt from @timepetalscollective

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday and Sunday. Beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma

This fic will remain at a T rating, but there is some steam.

Masterlist | AO3

---

Tuesday

“Last full day in France,” Hardy noted as they made their way over to the Studios Park. “It’s gone fast.”

Ellie hummed in agreement, unable and unwilling to fight back her happiness. The sun was shining, birds were chirping. It was an overall beautiful day, made brighter by the man beside her, hand holding hers. For all his grumbling and complaining he’d been an excellent sport, going along with all of her ideas and plans. It meant the world to her how he’d embraced it all, and she told him that.

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth ticking up. “Anything to make you happy.”

“You make me happy.” It was true; she felt lighter than she had in years, away from her family. “You make me feel like me again. Like I was in school. I didn’t realize how much I didn’t until we were- until I saw you again.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he agreed as they scanned their tickets and entered the park, “more than I knew.”

They crossed the courtyard into the hangar-sized building designed like a movie studio, past the shops and quick-service dining areas into a second courtyard. The design was much more reminiscent of Hollywood, and almost didn’t feel like a Disney park, which she hoped Hardy would appreciate.

“What d’you want to do first?” he asked as they stood at the crossroads.

“Um…” Ellie pulled out her mobile and opened the parks app, using it to see wait times. I love this thing. “You mentioned starting at the back- the wait for Rock’n’ Roll Coaster isn’t too bad at the moment.”

He nodded and they started in that direction, Ellie oohing and aahing over everything they saw.

Joining the line they stood opposite each other, leaning back on the railing while waiting to move. “What’s your plan when you get home?” Hardy asked quietly, crossing his arms.

“Uh…” Ellie licked her lips, more focused on the picture he made. Dressed in shorts and a tee, wearing the groom ears, he looked good, like something out of a magazine. If anyone had tried to tell her she’d see him looking that way, and more importantly liking the visual, she would’ve called them crazy. Now, she just wanted to jump him. “Work. Figure out what to do with the house I bought- maybe find a roommate if I can’t find a flat and a buyer. I certainly can’t move back home, and more importantly, I won’t.”

“Were you living at home before you bought the house?”

The line moved then and she waited until they’d repositioned ten feet up the corridor to answer. “No. Well, briefly- we were sharing a flat, but closing on the house got delayed so we were staying with my parents for the last two months while that all got sorted. Everything’s been moved in but not set up, so there’s plenty of work there, though if I can find a flat and a buyer quickly I may not have too much trouble moving. It’s just a mess.”

He nodded in understanding. “Once I’m back I’ll have to pack quickly and find somewhere soon as I have my new post. I don’t have all that much, but it’s still a hassle.”

“D’you have any idea where they might send you?”

“No,” Hardy sighed, shifting, “could be anywhere in England. I’m not strictly opposed to somewhere far from Sandbrook, less chance of knowing anyone there or them having heard about it all, but… och, I don’t know.”

“Well, if you end up in the southwest, let me know. I know of someone in need of a roommate,” she joked, before flushing at the implication. “I mean…”

His face contorted into an odd sort of grimace, and he rubbed at the back of his neck; both sure signs he was uncomfortable.

“What?”

They moved again, and this time, he stood straight up with his arms tightly folded against his chest. “What happens after this?”

“Tower of Terror?” she tried, but his expression didn’t change. “I… don’t know. Why?”

“You said ‘let me know’. That implies you don’t… expect us to keep in touch.”

“Of course I want to keep in touch!”

Dirty looks from the people in front of and behind them said her tone was a bit louder than intended.

“Yes, I expect us to keep in touch.” Lowering her voice, she tried to picture returning to life without him. “I’d… I think I’d like to do more than just ‘keep in touch’. Maybe.” She gave him a small smile.

Slowly, his shoulders unhunched, just a bit. “So would I.”

Maybe, just maybe, that meant everything would be alright.

“You alright?” Ellie fought back laughter as she led Hardy out into the sun.

“Aye,” he rasped, though the death grip he had on her hand and the stiff way he was walking suggested otherwise. “What the fuck was that?”

Practically biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, she managed, “Tower of Terror. Did it live up to the name?”

It was a rhetorical question; buttoned-up, restrained, unflappable Hardy had spent the entirety of the ride from the first drop shouting obscenities and clutching Ellie’s hand so tightly it was starting to tingle. She’d never seen him so shaken, so pale, and while she was sympathetic, it was also hilarious.

“Stop laughing,” he grunted, as she led him to a convenient bench not far from the ride’s exit. “Not funny.”

“You’re not going to be sick, are you?”

He shook his head and they settled down, Hardy closing his eyes and breathing deeply. “Let’s… let’s go for something milder,” he requested as she laid her head on his shoulder, hoping to offer comfort.

“When you’re ready,” she agreed easily. “There’s an action and stunt show soon back near the Coaster, how’s that sound?”

“Fine.”

“Then we can do the Studio Tram Tour, should be easy, then lunch?” She rubbed his back.

After several minutes he lifted his head, and she met his eye with a sympathetic smile that faded as he stared at her, eyes searching hers.

“What?”

Hardy leaned forward, kissing her softly, which she was happy to return.

“What was that for?” she murmured when they finally pulled apart, “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I- I-” He had an intense expression on his face, eyes shining, and her breath caught as she realized what he might be trying to say.

She just smiled, the hand on his back resuming it’s circuit as she waited in silence.

The moment eventually passed, the energy shifting, though a current of electricity remained as they stared at each other. When he finally spoke, it was to change the subject, though a hint of wistfulness was present in his tone.

“When’s that show?”

Ellie checked her watch before standing up. “Five minutes.”

“Right.”

She offered him a hand, helping him to his feet, and they started back towards the theater. To her surprise he let go of her hand, though her heart warmed a moment later when he wrapped an arm around her waist. Doing the same, she gave him a silly smile and led the way, humming to herself.

It really can be that simple, sometimes.

For dinner they had a reservation at King Ludwig’s Castle, a restaurant in the Village outside the parks. While it wasn’t quite the Eiffel Tower, Ellie still dressed up, given it was their last night.

Standing in the bathroom finishing her makeup she was full of nerves. Though they’d taken every meal together since they’d left London she was on edge, anxious; this felt like a date, a proper one, particularly in light of his almost-confession that morning.

What am I doing? Ellie stared at her reflection, trying to sift through the maelstrom of emotions inside her. This trip has been brilliant, better than I’d imagined even before… everything, but what happens when we go back to real life? Is this just lightning in a bottle? Can we make it work? Does he want to?

“El?” He rapped on the door. “We’ll be late soon. Alright?”

“Yeah!”

Pushing down her questions she finished her makeup, opening the door to find him standing right there, hand up as if to knock again.

“Hi,” he said, lowering his hand slowly, “ready?”

Not trusting her voice she merely nodded, grabbing her wrap. When he offered she allowed him to drape it across her shoulders, taking his proffered elbow and letting him lead the way.

It wasn’t far, a quick walk had them there soon enough, and he waited until they were seated and left with menus to say, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, why d’you assume something’s wrong?” she tittered nervously, knowing immediately her response had basically confirmed it. “I’m just… in my own head,” she shrugged, repositioning the place setting in front of her. “I’m fine, really.”

Crossing his arms he leaned forward on the table, and when she peeked up at him, those expressive brown eyes were focused solely on her.

Damn. “You must never have to ask questions in the interrogation room,” she joked, “just have to look at someone and they probably start talking.”

“Miller. I’m not asking the world of you. Just the truth.”

It wasn’t until he used her last name that she realized all through the trip she’d been Ellie instead. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she cast her eyes around the restaurant and idly noted the adorable castle-like décor. You’re stalling. “I don’t want this to be a rebound.” Every time she thought about the situation, that was one thing that stayed constant. “I don’t know what that means, I don’t know what happens when we go home, I know… nothing, and you know how I hate that, but what I do know is... I don’t want to go another eight years without seeing you. I don’t want to ruin this, whatever this is. I don’t want to hurt you, or be hurt.” Reluctantly she met his eye, only to see understanding and sympathy shining back at her. “I want to be happy. And I think that includes you.”

The hope and optimism radiating off of Hardy was palpable, his mouth opening to reply, to hopefully say he felt the same, but was stopped by-

“Bonsoir, madame et monsieur, bienvenue a King Ludwig’s. My name is Diana, I am your waitress this evening. May I start you with some drinks?”

Are you fucking kidding me? Can’t you see we’re having a moment here?!

“Bottle of red,” Hardy said brusquely, never taking his eyes off of Ellie. “We’d like to see the list.”

“Bien sur, just a moment, thank you.”

Ellie huffed as soon as she was gone, rolling her eyes slightly, though she smiled when he let out a soft laugh.

“Ellie.” He tentatively reached across the table, and she didn’t hesitate to rest her palms in his. “I want the same thing. Regardless of where I end up, we can make it work. Given… recent events, it may not even be a bad thing if we’re some distance apart.”

She nodded, squeezing his hands. “Agreed. As amazing as this all has been… we haven’t seen each other in years. Doing a long-distance relationship, talking… it’s probably the best place to start. Take it slow, and build a solid foundation.”

“Precisely. In a year we can see where we stand and go from there, but… this- us- is too important to fuck up.”

“We have the rest of our lives,” she said softly, realizing the weight and truth of the words, soul unclenching when he smiled.

“That we do.”

They leaned across the table at the same time, a chaste kiss given their location, but with enough heat to promise what was to come.

She only realized music was playing softly when the song changed, and she had to laugh as she recognized it, fitting for a romantic dinner at Disney.

So this is love, Mmm mmm mmm, So this love, So this is what makes life divine

#bbatcfic #broadfic #Broadchurch #HardyxMiller #Alec Hardy #Ellie Miller #AU #The French Connection #platonic honeymoon fic

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dawnbutterfly · 5 years

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At Fault

I can’t believe I forgot about this one when I was posting the rest.

This one is an alternate scene from Fractured but Whole itself, where I indulge in my enormous love for self-sacrifice and unrelenting pain. XD It takes place during the genetics lab sequence, in an alternate universe where my New Kid just can’t take it anymore.

“Oh, the tour tram is offline! Somebody is gonna have to get to the CPU and hit the override switch!” Dr. Mephesto explained. “Where's the CPU?” Kyle asked. “Down on the third level… Ah, it was silly to put it there, wasn't it?” Mephesto answered, realizing his folly. “So somebody has to walk down to the third level and flip the switch?” Stan asked. “One two three NOT IT!” A chorus of “not it”'s rang out from everyone in attendance. All except for the New Kid. “Sorry, New Kid, but it really should be you anyway.” Kyle said. “Yea, if you think about it, this is all kind of your fault.” Stan added on. The New Kid stared at the group for several moments, before tears came to their eyes. Everyone's expressions changed to ones of shock and worry. “W-Whoa, hey, what?” Stan said. “Y-You're right… this is all my fault…” The New Kid said, sniffling. “I-It's my parents who got kidnapped. I never should have dragged you all into my problems…” “W-Whoa! Hey, that's not how we meant it!” Kyle said, backpedaling. “Yeah, we rib each other when we're scared, that's… that's how we deal with it!” Stan added hurriedly. The New Kid seemed to ignore their words, pulling out their phone and flipping through for a moment. Suddenly, Wendy, Kenny, and Butters all got a notification on their own phones. They checked them, and saw that they'd been removed as combat buddies from the New Kid's party. “Wait a minute…” Wendy said, looking around as the New Kid turned to walk towards the door. Nobody else's phone buzzed or beeped. Nobody else got a notification that they'd been added to the New Kid's party. “You're not going out there alone! That's suicide!” Wendy shouted. The New Kid didn't stop. “S-She's right! Come on, if you die out there, then we're all gonna die too! You don't wanna be selfish, right!?” Craig pleaded, his usual monotone giving way to an amount of fear. The New Kid kept walking, reaching the door. “Don't you fucking dare!” Kenny finally spoke up in his stern, superhero voice. The New Kid flinched, finally stopping in their tracks. “Didn't I tell you before that you remind me of my sister!?” Kenny said. “I told you then that I have an instinct to protect you, and that statement stands. So there's no way in hell I'm letting you walk out that door without at least one of us to back you up!” The New Kid was silent for several moments, not turning around. “Of all the people in this room, you're the only one I would ever let follow me on this mission…” They finally said. They turned around, sadness in their eyes. “At least you I couldn't lose…” They continued, Kenny raising an eyebrow. “But I won't put you through that… because dying fucking hurts, doesn't it?” The New Kid finished. Kenny's eyes widened in realization The New Kid turned back to the door. “Maybe I'll find that out first hand, huh?” They said, opening the door and running through. “Don't you fucking dare!” Kenny screamed, rushing towards the door as it slid shut behind the New Kid. When he reached it, however, it failed to open. He tried to pry it, but it wouldn't budge. “Damn it! He must have barred it from the other side somehow!” Kenny said, pounding on the door. “You open this door right now, you selfish son of a bitch!” ⁂ Battered, bruised, bloodied… the New Kid dragged themself into the next room, to see a familiar face strapped to a table. “Sport? Is that you? It IS! Cupcake, it's me, Daddy!” Chris said. The New Kid approached their father. “They're trying to get DNA from your mother and I! You have to get me out of here. That computer is waiting for a DNA sample from your mother. Quick! She's in the next room. Go get mommy's DNA sample and bring it here! Hurry!” Chris explained. The New Kid got a pit in their stomach, turning and limping over to the room where their mother lay. Their mother looked up at them, pain on her face, her body badly injured. “Sixth Graders… came out of nowhere… My legs are broken sweetie. Mommy can't walk. You have to go into town and get help.” Kelly said. “Sweetheart listen to me. They were about to cut off your father's head to scan his DNA. I'm sorry sweetheart but you have to finish the job. The only way out of here is to kill Daddy.” “I HEARD THAT! What the hell is wrong with you?” Chris shouted from the other room. “Can I have a conversation with our child without being criticized!?” Kelly shouted back. “Oh YOU'RE the victim again, huh!? Like you don't deconstruct EVERYTHING I say.” Chris shouted back. “Ok, Mr. never-wrong-in-his-life.” Kelly called back. “Go do it, sweetie. Go cut off Daddy's head. Hurry.” Tears came to the New Kid's eyes once again at the fighting. Kelly's expression softened. “I-I know it's a lot to ask, but…” “Mommy, Daddy… please, stop fighting…” The New Kid sobbed, quickly breaking down. “I-I'm so sorry you got kidnapped because of me… please don't hate each other…” Tears formed in the corners of Kelly's eyes as well. “Oh god, sweetie… w-we never meant to…” She started. “T-This isn't your fault, cupcake! I-It's just-” Chris also cut in. “T-T-They've been putting cat urine in your alcohol and pot brownies…” The New Kid said with a sniffle, Kelly's eyes widening. “I-It's why you're so angry all the time now. P-Please, don't hate each other so much you want to kill each other just because you're being drugged… and because of me…” “O-Oh god… what have we done…” Kelly mumbled, tears streaming down her face. The New Kid walked back over to their father, examining the machine he was being held in through bleary eyes. “S-Sweetie… what are you doing?” Chris asked. The New Kid pushed a few buttons on the side, Chris' eyes widening with fear. However, the table restraints quickly popped open, freeing Chris. “G-G-Go help mommy… make sure she doesn't bleed out… please…” The New Kid said. “A-Alright sport, but… we still can't get out of here without a DNA sample. This place is built like a death trap. It has to be a large one, from one of us…” Chris said. “D-Don't worry. I'll hack the machine. I have a friend who can walk me through it…” The New Kid said. Chris looked at his child warily, but nodded, walking over to Kelly. “Christ, look what those mutant bastards did to you…” He said. Kelly coughed. “A-At least I've got my clothes, still…” She said. Both parents shared an uneasy chuckle. “What kind of parents have we become?” Chris asked. “All we ever wanted was to protect them, but instead, we've just taken away their childhood…” “What choice did we really have? It's not like the government was going to let them have one anyway…” Kelly said sadly. They both looked into each other's eyes. “If we're being… rational… I'm the obvious choice for the DNA sample.” Kelly said. “I can't walk on these legs, and I've lost too much blood even if I could…” “Let's be honest, they were always closer to you…” Chris said, looking down sadly. “If it came down to it, you're probably the one they'd want around.” He then looked back up. “But it's ok. They said they were going to hack the machine. One of their friends knows how apparently.” He said. “You believe that?” Kelly asked. “I think we should give them the chance to try…” Chris said. Just then, however, they both heard a loud, electrical whirring sound. “W-Wait… that sounds like the-!” Chris started, just as the sound of the laser firing rang through the room. Chris ran from Kelly's confined room with wide-eyed horror, just in time to see his child closing the slat on the DNA scanner. With a sickening slicing sound, the screen turned green. “Organic DNA sample accepted.” The computer said. The New Kid turned to their father, only their right hand visible below their sleeve. “W-What have you done?” Chris asked, his face full of heartbreak and horror. “What… what I had to…” The New Kid said, seeming unsteady on their feet. “Y-You said it needed a sample from either of you… and I have DNA from both of you…” “W-What's happening!? Sweetheart, what's going on!?” Kelly called from the other room. The New Kid locked eyes with their father. “T-The wound was cauterized by the laser. I need to keep moving. Stay here and… protect mommy for me…” They said. “You are not going anywhere in the state you're in.” Chris said evenly, holding back tears. “If I don't, none of us are making it out of here…” The New Kid said. “I can handle it. Just… keep her safe.” The New Kid then turned and bolted into the elevator, descending below before Chris could react. Chris walked back to Kelly, shock and disbelief on his face. “W-What happened? What's wrong!?” Kelly asked. “Our child… saved us. That's what matters.” Chris said, sitting down next to Kelly and holding her hand. “They saved us…” ⁂ “We're gonna die here!” Clyde sobbed. “The New Kid's dead and we're next!” “Come on… have a little faith in them…” Wendy said half-heartedly. “Come on Wendy, face it. He let his emotions get the better of him, and now we're all gonna die because of it.” Kenny said. He looked down sadly. “Maybe that's what we get for how we treated him…” Just then, however, the light of the tram came on, and the door opened. Everyone looked up in shock. “Holy shit, dude…” Stan said in amazement. “He actually did it!” Kyle exclaimed. “Well, what are we waiting for? Everyone on the tram!” Mephesto said, hurrying all the children onto the cart. The tram slowly descended, until it eventually reached the desired floor, just in time for everyone to see the New Kid emerge from a door near the rails. “New Kid! My god, I can't believe you managed to pull this off!” Wendy called happily. “You reckless idiot!” Kenny said, jumping from the tram and landing near the New Kid. He grabbed the kid by the collar. “Don't you ever do something so stupidly dangerous again, you hear m-” The New Kid, however, collapsed to the floor, Kenny stepping back in shock. “New Kid!” He shouted, kneeling down to help his friend up. “Are you alr- oh god…” He began, stopping short as he saw the seared stump where the New Kid's left hand should have been. “W-What's wrong Ken-” Wendy asked as she approached, only to stop, gasping in horror. “WHAT DID YOU DO!?” Kenny screamed. “T-The tram control… needed a large sample… of my parents DNA to start working again…” The New Kid said, everyone's eyes widening. “I-I tried to hack it… tried to use a hair, and a small sample, but… it needed more…” They looked Kenny in the eyes, tears streaking down their face. “A-And I couldn't choose… p-please don't make me kill my mommy and daddy…” They said, their eyes going hazy for a moment. Kenny looked thunderstruck. Wendy had tears in her eyes. Craig looked absolutely furious, and turned to Mephesto. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” He said, punching the doctor as hard as he could in the stomach. Mephesto doubled over in pain. Craig grabbed him by the shirt. “WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DESIGN ANY OF THIS LIKE THIS!? WHY WOULD YOU MAKE OUR FRIEND CHOOSE BETWEEN MURDERING HIS PARENTS AND MUTILATING HIMSELF TO SAVE US!? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” “Come on! We need to get him to the hospital right now!” Kenny said, pulling the New Kid up and helping support them. The group all began to rush towards the front exit, however… “Not so fast, Coon and Friends.” A familiar voice said as they rounded the corner. They all came face to face with Cartman. “No! Fuck you fatass, we're not fucking playing anymore!” Kenny screamed at him. “Is that so?” Cartman said through his hand puppet, Mitch Conner. “Then I guess that means you give-” Kenny, however, had already walked up to Cartman, and punched him in the face. Cartman looked stunned for several seconds, before spitting out a tooth. “You sick son of a fucking whore!” Kenny screamed in his face. He grabbed Cartman by the hair and forced him to look over at the New Kid, who looked like they might collapse if not for Wendy and Kyle supporting them. “You took this way too fucking far, and now look at the New Kid!” “W… what happened to his hand?” Cartman asked, a hint of horror creeping into his voice. “He had to fucking cut it off so he wouldn't have to MURDER HIS PARENTS TO GET US OUT OF HERE!” Kenny screamed in his ear. “YOU DID THIS TO HIM!” “N-No! It was Mitch Conner, guys! Mitch did this!” Cartman protested. “THIS ISN'T A FUCKING GAME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” Kenny continued screaming. “No, you heard him, guys. This is Mitch Conner's doing.” Kyle said spitefully, drawing everyone's attention. “So let's punish the right person, and put Mitch Conner in the fucking ground. He is Cartman's left hand, after all. The same one the New Kid lost. LET'S FUCKING CUT IT OFF!” “N-No! No you guys, come on! I can't control him, that's not fair!” Cartman continued to plead. “HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY BE THIS FUCKED UP!?” Wendy screamed. “Our friend is mutilated because of what YOU did! YOU KNOW THIS WAS YOU!” “P-Please…” The New Kid coughed, barely able to stand. Everyone's eyes fell to them. “N-No more… no more fighting… no more hurting…” “New Kid…” Wendy said. “No more…” The New Kid repeated. Kenny's furious expression didn't change, but he walked back to the New Kid. “You heard him. Let's just get the fuck out of here.” He said. “I said not so fast!” Cartman said through his hand. “Cartman, I swear to god, I will kill you in your sleep tonight if you don't get the fuck out of our way right fucking now.” Kenny said evenly, without the slightest hint of hesitation or hyperbole. Cartman looked him in the eye for several moments, before lowering his hand, and standing aside. “W-Wendy…” The New Kid said, barely audible. “What is it?” Wendy asked with worry. “Parents… upstairs… hurt…” The New Kid managed. “9-1-1…” The New Kid finally passed out, becoming dead weight on the other kids supporting them. “Let's get them outside. I'll call an ambulance for them and their parents.” Wendy said. The group quickly moved outside of the building, laying the New Kid gently on the ground as they waited for the ambulance. “I can't believe he did all that alone…” Stan said, looking at his battered, unconscious friend. “I can't believe we let him do it alone…” Wendy said, tears forming in her eyes. “He locked us in, what else could we do?” Token asked. “We could have found a way out if we weren't such damn cowards. You know that…” Wendy said spitefully. All the other Freedom Pals looked down in remorse. “What right do we have to call ourselves superheroes? When it came down to it, we were just a bunch of scared kids, and we made an even younger scared kid do all the work for us. Some 'pals' we are…” “M-Maybe it won't matter…” Scott said, drawing Kenny's angry glare. “I-I mean, the New Kid hath power over time! A-An actual thuper power! He brought me back to life onthe! Maybe he can jutht… put hith hand back too…” Kenny stared into Scott's eyes, searching for a sign of a joke, but could find none. He sighed, looking away. “Even if he can, does that change the fact he had to go through cutting it off in the first place?” Kenny asked solemnly. Scott opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. “God, how long has he been holding all of this in? He seemed so distant, so emotionless. I thought he was just some weird kid who nothing ever got to, but… has he actually just been holding all his pain in the whole time?” Kenny wondered aloud. “All those times we treated him badly…” “C-Come on, he had to know we were just messing with him, right? I mean, that's just what we do with each other, he knows that!” Stan offered. “Does he? How often have we actually hung out with him?” Kenny asked. “Does he actually know any of us? Does he have any real frame of reference for how we act with each other?” “W-We've hung out plenty of times! He was our King! We played Stick of Truth together, and…” Kyle started, but stopped short. “And… and that was only for three days the first time, wasn't it? Then it was like he just dropped off the planet until we started playing again a week ago…” “What's the New Kid's name?” Wendy asked. Everyone looked at her with shock. “Do any of us even know it?” “I… I do…” Butters spoke up tentatively, drawing everyone's attention. “I-I was there when he first joined the game and Eric asked what his name was. He said it was Grant…” “I-If… I get a say… I'd prefer 'Gracie' this week…” A wavering, barely audible voice shocked everyone. “N-New... Grant! No, Gracie?” Kenny stumbled over his words. “Whatever! Talk to us, are you still in pain!? How can we help you!?” Gracie smiled weakly. “H-Hearing you say… my name… is more than enough… until the ambulance gets here…” She said. With some difficulty, she lifted her left arm up, taking a good look at her severed wrist for the first time. “Who knew… it'd come to this?” She mumbled. “Gracie, Scott said you have some kind of power over time. An actual superpower.” Kenny said. “I'm not sure I believe that, but… can you use it to fix your hand, if you do?” Gracie set her arm back down at her side and sighed. “No… I can't…” She said. Kenny sighed as well. “Yeah, I figured he was exag-” “My time powers can only affect the world around me, not my own body…” Gracie explained in a tired voice, causing Kenny's eyes to widen. “I can stop time, advance it, glitch something backwards in it, even summon an alternate timeline version of myself to fight with me… but I can't do what I did for Scott for my hand…”

Aaaaaaaand that’s about where I ran out of steam. Like I said, a lot of these just kind of peter out, but people seem to enjoy my writing while it’s there anyway.

(Also if you’re wondering why the other kids don’t know the New Kid has real super powers, it’s because I wrote this while strongly headcanoning that part of the New Kid’s power was bringing the other kids imaginations to life when they play, making it seem totally normal and not worth noting, which explains why they can do all the superhuman things they do in the game, and also why they’re so casual about the New Kid having super powers.)

#Greater South Park Multiversal Area

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themassculture · 5 years

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Russia's youngest serial killer

Vladimir Vinnichevsky in many ways, a unique serial killer, and not only in the domestic criminal history, but also the world. It is surprising that such a truly monstrous in its cruelty and at the same time smart and resourceful criminal caught, in General, quite by accident, still remained unknown to the General public. Meanwhile, the story of Vova Vinnichevsky deserves attention.

Volodya, born in 1923, began killing at the age of 15 years. According to his own confession, he committed about 18 attacks on children aged 2-4 years for the purpose of rape, which often ended in death for them. The first victim Vinnichevsky , about which I learned Sverdlovsk law enforcement, became a 4-year-old Hertha Gribanova, raped and murdered in the garden of his house. It is actually a criminal and wasn't kidnapped. It was an extremely audacious attack.

Vinnichevsky not once, not twice kidnapped children literally from the front door or from under the Windows of the apartment where were the parents. This sleight for a long time baffled all knowledgeable about the details of the crimes. After capture Vova explained the method — in search of the potential victim he safely entered private houses and entrances and if adults weren't nearby, then spoke with the child and took away with itself. If there older then Vinnichevsky pretended Komsomolets social worker, they say, "we will have red Friday, we collect scrap metal, I came here to see if you have a scrap of some change?»

Komsomol members collecting scrap metal were a sign of the time. They did not surprise anyone and the legend worked perfectly. Even when the Sverdlovsk knew about the crimes and the unfamiliar man aroused widespread suspicion that the student is bypassing the house supposedly in search of scrap metal, fear is not aroused.

Going with Hertha in the garden, Vinnichevsky attacked the girl and began to choke. After she was quiet, he decided to try something new. The criminal for the first time started up a knife and began to strike blows to the head. Soviet factory knives have always been of disgusting quality, so that on the eighth blow the blade broke off and the tip remained in the head of the victim. The medical examiner suggested using the victim's skull as evidence. In that case, if the killer does not throw a broken knife and the knife is found, it was possible to conduct an examination, proving the application of wounds with this knife, and not any other. The idea seemed attractive, made decapitation, and the body of the relatives were given without the head of the child.

However, this calculation was not justified. Vinnichevsky did not keep a knife with broken blade and threw it out. But in the future I learned a lesson and began to use a screwdriver and a Swiss army knife. The killer actually turned out to be very trained man, and has come up with many elements of the criminal's handwriting, given that in those days there were no movies, thrillers, and good books-detectives were gold.

Vinnichevsky attack not only on girls, he, as a true pedophile, sexual identity of the victim was not fundamental. So, the fifth victim of Vova as he told, there was a boy, however, the militia didn't receive any messages on it. Most likely, the victim survived and relatives wished to hide the incident from law enforcement agencies. The baby, who became the object of the next attack, 4-year-old Borya Titov, also survived. He was the first who was able to report at least some information about the mysterious rapist and his manner of behavior: Vinnichevsky invited the boy to ride him on a sled, brought to the wasteland at the end of the street, where he attacked, and then threw him unconscious in a snowdrift, taking the sled away to ask the search for the wrong direction.

The mutilated body of the seventh victim, 3-year-old Wali p. Lobanova, Vinnichevsky dropped into a pit of feces under the wooden outdoor toilet. Those who have seen such a latrine can easily understand the calculation of the murderer — there is no light and smell. And this stench will mask the smell of rotting flesh. Dropping kids in the sump — another invention, which Vinnichevsky thought of yourself. He will be faithful to him in the future. One of the girls, thrown into the latrine in an unconscious state, survived. 4-year-old Paradise Rahmatulina saved by the fact that the killer was confined to the stifle and is not used edged weapons. Thanks to this, the girl woke up, began to call for help and heard her.

Vinnichevsky lived in the center of Sverdlovsk, but to commit crimes prefer to go to the outskirts of the city. In the spring of 1939 in the forest near the railway / road station, he killed 4-year-old Lida Surin. The guy stabbed her 24 injured with machetes and the body was camouflaged with branches. The girl quickly enough and began to look for. It was already 11 attack Vinnichevsky when local police finally realized that in the city operates a maniac, attacking young children. Therefore, for practicing all the messages about the disappearance of the toddler immediately rushed all available forces. Surin was found quickly, but she was already dead.

Soon investigators realized that the offender had not taken the victims more than a kilometer away from the abduction site, so if you quickly start a search from the point where the child was last seen, then you can manage to find him alive. Thanks to this speed, some of the children were rescued.

In the summer of 1939 the investigation of the crimes committed Bennicassim in Sverdlovsk, were United in one production. To a certain extent confused picture of the variability of the behavior of the killer — as mentioned above, sometimes he strangled victims with his hands, and sometimes resorted to melee weapons, so even with excessive brutality. The offender disguised the bodies of the dead in different ways, chose different places for attacks and did it, as it seemed, without any visible system.

There was no clarity as to who to look for. For example, according to one version, the killer was seriously ill or disabled. Also, everyone was sure that he has a criminal past. And none of the prosecutors and the police, even in a head could not come that they are looking for 15-year-old student who is attending school loitering in the streets of the glorious city of Sverdlovsk and talking about the collection of waste paper and scrap metal.

Perfectly demonstrate criminal experience Vinnichevsky his actions during and after the Commission of the last murder. His victim was 4-year-old Tasia Morozova, whom he took away from home, promising to buy ice cream. The area where this crime took place had virtually no natural shelters — no forest, no shrubs, no ravines, there was not even a lawn, one dull wasteland with miserable individual houses and working dormitories — in General, a working suburb of the Stalin era. The killer raped and killed the girl in the latrine, threw the naked corpse into a fecal pit, and took away her clothes.

Vinnichevsky was not going to Rob the victim, and had nothing to profit from 4-year-old girl. He took the clothes because he knew that the body in the pit of faeces would sink, but the clothes would remain on the surface and could be seen. Therefore, the offender went to the house of the murdered and dumped the clothes, reaching a few tens of meters. His calculation was based on the fact that if the clothes and find that in itself was not obvious, it will look in the house and around it. And to the toilet, remote by more than 300 meters, you look and will not get.

However, the calculation of the offender was not justified. Not least because by October 1939 the tendency Vinnichevsky to heat the bodies of the victims in the cesspools was already well known in the Sverdlovsk militia. However, when Morozov was found, no one knew that this was the last child killed. The investigation had no leads to the killer. Employees of criminal investigation Department "closed" already more than 300 people, and crimes all didn't stop. The militia worked without days off and holidays, the city was flooded with the hidden patrols, but nobody could give a guarantee that they really will help.

Got Vinnichevsky in the end by accident. Returning from patrol cadets of school of militia noticed the guy who left the tram with the small boy on hands. In principle, nothing particularly suspicious Vinnichevsky did — he looked like the older brother of the child whom he held a casual conversation. And alerted the cadets that the teen took the baby to the side of the houses, and to the forest. So we decided to follow. They had time: in the thicket the guy was already choking the child, so the company immediately detained him.

Not to say that the young killer grew up in poverty and deprivation. Of course, the times were scarce, but Vinnichevsky wore leather shoes, sported in a tank helmet, which was then the dream of all the boys, and owned a Swiss penknife — such an artifact did not have a price in the eyes of teenagers. Plus, during the arrest, he was carrying more than 20 rubles, while the adults survived, then, is based less than 10 rubles per day. In General, it is impossible to call the guy miserable and the poor. Vinnichevsky sang well, knew by heart many songs, the most favorite of which was "Heroes of Hasana". In General, a normal member of the Komsomol. Wanted to be a tanker, the songs they sang in the helmet tank went, kids cut and strangled.

In December 1939, when the investigation was nearing completion, Vova's father and mother wrote letters to local Newspapers, asking the Soviet authorities to give their son what he deserved, according to the gravity of what he had done. In those days, it was politically correct and even politically correct to publicly call curses on the heads of fascists, imperialists, Trotskyists, white guards, unrecoverable opportunists and double-dealers, as well as all other external and internal Hydra of the counter-revolution. These letters by the decision of the regional Committee of the CPSU(b) were published, because the political situation required a demonstration of success in the field of strengthening of social law and order. Then these letters were read in court. Since the death penalty for children from the age of 12 was introduced in 1935, January 16, 1940 seventh-grader Volodya Vinnichevsky was sentenced to “the highest measure of social protection”, and soon shot.

victims

#tcc #Russia's youngest serial killer #Vladimir Vinnichevsky #serial killers #russia serial killers #true crime #true crime community #mass murderer #unique

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langscollector · 6 years

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Croatian slang

As requested, I am making a post about slang we use in Croatia. Hope you’ll like it <3

There’s no particular order to this. Most of the slang is based on what we say in eastern part of the land. Y’all can’t blame me However the majority would be understood across the whole Croatia

Slang - meaning in Croatian - translation in English

NOUNS:

Trac - Tramvaj - Tram Bic/ bajs - Bicikl - Bike Trenđa - Trenerka - Jogging suit Gimba - Gimnazija - Gymnasium Slamboš - Sladoled - Ice cream Pija - Pijaca (tržnica) - Market Žurka - Zabava - Party Čaga - Dance - ples Cener - 10 kuna - 10 kunas Cvike - Naočale - (Sun)glasses Kinta - Novac - Money *used only when you’re short of money Komp - Kompjuter (računalo) - Computer Nogoš - Nogomet - Football Slasta - Slastičarnica - Pastry shop Škemba - Trbuh - Stomach/ Belly *used only when you want to express that you have more belly “fat” than you’d like; or if you express yourself/ someone else not having any (having abs/ flat stomach (so this is NOT used to say whether your stomach hurts, for ex.) Benza - Benzinska (postaja) - Gas station Beštek - Pribor za jelo - Cutlery Rođoš/ Ročkas- Rođendan - Birthday Mek - McDonalds Drito - Ravno - Straight Dezić - Dezodorans - Deodorant Krimić - Krimi serija/ film/ knjiga - Crimi tv series/ movie/ book Čvimba - Bubuljica - Pimple Dvoguza - 2L piva - 2L of beer Nula bodova - Literally/ absolutely nothing Pljuska - Šamar - Slap in the face Brija - Stage when 2 people are kind of and low key together, but not officialy. Brija is the period after making out with someone and before the actual relationship. Fotić - Fotoaparat - Camera Žestica - Beverages with higher percent of alcohol in it. Ex. Whiskey, Tequila Kupanac - Kupanje - Swimming Brutala - Nešto jako dobro - Something really good/ awesome Cajke - Pop- folk, balkanska glazba s elementima narodne glazbe; slično glazbi koja se zove “Chalga” u Bugarskoj - Pop- folk, Balkan’s music with elements of “folk” music; similar to “Chalga” music in Bulgaria Ex. majority of the songs from this channel Cirka - Otprilike - Cca Faks - Fakultet - University/ College Fotka - Fotografija - Picture Hića - Hitno - Urgently Oriđiđi - Original - Original Pirs - Piercing Pliz - Molim te - Please Sića - Sitan novac/ Kovanice - Coins Tekma - Utakmica - (Sport-) match Zuja - Stage of not being sober and before getting wasted Sluške - Slušalice - Headphones Bruka - Sramota - Embarassment NOUNS related to people: Butra - A girl Lega - A guy Legica - A girl *the previous 3 slang terms are specific for the town Osijek Frajer - (used for male only; very often sarcastic) when someone got groomed, when someone is sorrounded by a lot of beautiful women, when someone does something good, etc.. Penzić - Penzioner - Retiree/ pensioner Dobrica - Netko tko je dobra osoba - Someone who’s a a good person Alkos - Alkoholičar - An alcoholic Raska - Razrednica - Class mistress Lik - Basically any male Cinkaroš - A person who blows the whistle Bracika/ Brale/ Buraz - Brate - Brother Luzer - Loser VERBS: Kontati - Razumijeti/ Shvatiti - To understand Čagati - Plesati - To dance Ići pjehe - Ići pješke - Go on foot Lapiti / Zujiti- Dosađivati se - To be bored Laprdati - Pričati besmislice - To talk nonsense Spičkati - Potrošiti puno novaca -To spend a lot of money Riknuti/ crknuti - Umrijeti - To die Skompati se - Postati prijatelj s nekim - Become friends with someone Naroljati se - Napiti se - To get wasted Bacati hejt/ hejtati - Mrziti nešto - To (lowkey) hate something Bariti - Pokazivati osobi da ti se sviđa - To show the person that you like him/ her (more in a sexual context) Zabrijati - To make out Brukati se - Sramotiti se - To embarass yourself Biti u banani - Imati problem - To have a problem Cinkati - Blow the whistle Cmizdriti - Plakati - To cry (in an annoying way; used often for young spoiled children who, along with crying, start screaming and making some gestures) Nacugati se - Napiti se - To get wasted Nacrtati se (lit. to draw yourself) - Pojaviti se - To appear

ZAGREB’S SLANG Dragi purgeri, if I’m wrong about about any slang term, please correct me :) The slang terms above are used in Slavonia for sure. I’m not sure about Zagreb, but the majority is. The following terms though, aren’t common in Slavonia so I put them under the title “Zagreb’s slang”.

Levat - Similar to idiot Fakat- Zaista - Really Mamlaz - Similar to idiot Skulirati se - Smiriti se -To chill out/ To relax Sprehati/ Uvaljivati spiku - Zavoditi - To charm Zatreskati se - Zaljubiti se - To fall in love Dofurati - Doći - To come Pošorati se - Potući se - To fight Muljati - Lagati - To lie There are many more, but I’m not sure if they are used so I’m not going to add them. However, my fellow Croatians (especially Dalmatians), add more !!

#croatian #hrvatski #croatianlanguage #croatianvocab #langblog #langblr #language #multilingual #polyglot

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akai-hito · 7 years

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When you wish upon a star

With an original title come an oriinal story arf.

Thank to everyone who given me postitie feedback aout my idea. Now it’s out there, on AO3 so I decided to put it here too. I tag some of you guys there, for the first chapter : @kritzels-trash @miirukusan @reecheecx and @shoutingnonsense

Thank for the support again. It’s the beginning so tere’s probably not much to say, but I’ll hope it please anyway~

Osomatsu found this kind of funny that he was blocked in the tram, which he never usually took, all of this because a little adventure with his brothers who haven't hesitated to abandon him at some point.

Ah, he couldn't wait the moment when he will beat their ass.

Still, it wasn't that bad, he just had that to do after had to walk for a while. Now he didn't have to walk very much.

The NEET was blocked with the incredible amount of people with a work like it was popular in Japan. Even though he wanted to, he couldn't sit down anywhere. He was stuck with several people while his eyes were wandering.

The scenery was wonderful! All those breasts, I mean all those hills uh.

Finally, it was even less annoying, the « view » made him forget about his growing hunger.

Another station, some people left while some other were coming.

He enjoyed the changing scenery when he noticed something... wrong with it.

A girl was stuck between one of the wall and a man, and if it weren't for her facial expression he wouldn't have noticed...

...her expression looked even more terrified, as she looked at her. He kept a straight expression, but he could see his arms moving...

…

« Oi. »

The two strangers were startled by his sudden appearance, especially the man.

« It seems that you don't know the rule: look but don't touch, right? »

The guy was a little taller than him, but why would he care? He didn't, not at all.

He finally looked at him, saying :

« What do you mean? »

Osomatsu watched the young woman to be sure he wasn't doing any mistake, but she was paralyzed by her fear et it just encouraged Osomatsu to use his own fist.

First, he took the guy by the collar.

« You know very well what I am meaning. »

At the same time, the door opened again and a simple and clear idea came into his mind :

« Leave me some space! I take out the trash! »

Some second later, you could hear a scream as the aggressor was ejected out of the tram. Osomatsu attracted the attention on him but didn't give any attention to it as he was making his way to get close to the person he rescued.

After something like that, nobody dared to ay something about it and the crowd who was entering in the tram stayed silent as the man was now, ironically, in a trashcan.

Then the tram kept going, in silence. The atmosphere was particularly after such an event.

Osomatsu finally said something :

« Do you think I did a home run? »

He chuckled at his own joke, but the woman had no reaction. Comprehensive, he asked :

« Are you okay? »

Still shocked, all she did is watch in his direction. Osomatsu smiled brightly while rubbing his nose. His hand bumped by accident on her own, but it gave him an idea :

« … can I? »

She opened her own hand, and once he was holding her, she grips his hand. He smiled again.

« Don't mind. Everything's going to be okay from now on. »

He kept her hand the whole time, silent. She seemed to relax but he wasn't really sure.

The tranquility which slowly took place between them was interrupted by the announcement of where they were now. Akatsuka Ward, of course.

«Ah, we're finally there. »

She blinked out of surprise :

« Me too. »

They noticed that they were still holding hands. Osomatsu grat the back of his neck, blushing :

« Ah-haha! I'm sorry, I haven't noticed... _ No it's okay... reassured the young woman »

They had to walk out of the tram at the same time to walk in the same direction for a while, in silence. Came the moment where they had to part away.

« I see..., have a good day then! »

Osomatsu said those words and proceeded to wave his hand, as she smiled in return. He saw her leaving without a thought, but weirdly she managed to get back at him a paper in her hand.

« It's my phone number... _ ...eh ?! » She looked away :

« Sorry if it seems too bold I just... I would like to talk to you again if possible... your voice reassures me. _ O-ok... »

Just after having said that, she was really quick to leave, not leaving him the time to give her his own number.

It took him a moment to realize all that happened.

He rescued a woman from an aggressor.

She smiled at him, several times.

They held hands for what looked like hours for him.

And now he has her number.

He started to giggle stupidly and then managed to scream :

« HEY GUYS! GUESS WHAT YOUR BROTHER HAVE DONE TODAY! »

He close to home and his first idea was to run to it, screaming those words.

Once at home, he took an aspiration before to get into their room, a smile almost as big as Jyushimatsu's.

« Guess who got the number of a girl without any effort today? »

They looked at him with suspicion :

« It's surely fake. Replied Choromatsu, _ WRONG! And I will tell you WHY, Choromatsu! »

He sat down, waiting for his brothers to gather around him to listen to the eldest one.

Something which few of them have done, but he finally got their attention. He talked with fierce about the heroic behavior he had. It was worth a tv show, but more a lie than anything to his brothers.

It was why they said absolutely nothing.

« You don't believe me? Seriously ? _ Just call her and we will believe you, Osomatsu-nii-san. Cut Todomatsu, tired by the situation »

Osomatsu tensed up. Blushing, he chuckled visibly embarrassed :

« Perhaps... later right? You know, the time she gets over her emot- HEY! WHY ARE YOU ALL LEAVING ?! »

They were already all focused on their own occupation.

Vexed, Osomatsu decided to go downstairs to watch the TV. Whatever ! He'll show them later anyway.

A quick nap later, the loudest voice in the house awaken him :

« Osomatsu-nii-san, Osomatsu-nii-san! »

Quickly, he was shaken by Jyushimatsu :

« It's almost time for dinner! _ Ah... mm... yeah... _ You still haven't called her right? Said Jyushimatsu, out of nowhere »

Osomatsu looked at his brother whit hit the nail on the head. Despite this, the usual carefree attitude of Osomatsu came back and he smiled :

« I'm waiting for a SIGN Jyushimatsu... _ Ouch! Please stop, you're painful to look at. »

The two dork of the house laughed at the brief imitation of Karamatsu, and proceeded to go to eat.

Though, Osomatsu weren't really acting about waiting for a sign.

He came to the terrace looking at the sky and dreamy.

With the number of this stranger in his hand, he sighed.

Oh, he knew it was a real one it wasn't the question but...

He was nervous. What was he supposed to say?

He looked at the sky. Haha, who knows, perhaps the sky will really show him a sign...

« … woah ?! A SHOOTING STAR ?! »

It was the sign he waited, the moment to do a wish!

« I don't know how it works but... Akatsuka-sensei, if you're out there, please give me a chance to talk to this girl- »

But in return for his prayer, a scream echoed in the night.

He barely had the time to open his eyes that someone violently crushed him, ejecting him to the wall.

« Osomatsu-nii-san ?! Osomatsu-nii-san ?! »

His brothers worriedly reached him, and with their lifestyle, they were not ready for that.

I mean, what was doing that GIRL on their BROTHER, both of them against their wall ?!

The stranger fell on the floor, Osomatsu staying on the wall visibly stuck in it.

Finally, Choromatsu spoke up, talking to Jyushimatsu :

« Have you done any other sport than baseball today? _ No, only baseball! Also, why are you all looking at me ?! _ Perhaps it's because of Dr.Dekapan... said Karamatsu, in a curiously normal voice _ Instead of talking, we should help them don't you think? Added Ichimatsu »

The boys looked more preoccupied about the girl than their own brother, but strangely Osomatsu could have a bit of their attention when the gravitational effect made him fall on the young woman.

Which resulted in him being punched by Choromatsu :

« HOW DARE YOU?! Treating a poor innocent girl like this!! _ Mademoiselle, how are you? Can you hear me through your sweet slumber? Asked Karamatsu, while holding her hand _ Is she alive, Kusomatsu? Ichimatsu started to get close too _ Karamatsu-nii-san, my ears are bleeding, stop that! Objected Jyushimatsu _ SHUT THE FUCK UP ALL OF YOU! STOP TO GET CLOSE TO HER! YOU'RE GOING TO SCARE HER! Screamed out Todomatsu, visibly aware of how confusing it will be for her to wake up »

He had right, she was woken up. She didn't notice that her hand were held and just tried to sit with difficulty, whimpering because of the pain :

« Ouch... I should really stop to get near to this laboratory... »

It's when she noticed her hand being held, and how she was surrounded. Startled, she asked with a hesitant voice :

« Have we met before? _ Heh~? Reacted Karamatsu, happy to have some attention. I have no memory of it my lady. _ Uh... but why are you so many ?! »

Her gaze goes to all of them who weren't moving. Choromatsu tried to find his words, but Todomatsu finished to say something :

« Sorry for... everything, and good afternoon? Hahaha, we are the Matsuno. I am Todomatsu- »

She fainted, it was really too much for today.

They all looked at her, motionless.

Ichimatsu sighed :

« It seems like we killed someone. Again. »

#osomatsu san #osomatsu matsuno #and here i am #though nobody know her name yet #It will take me some balls to go for the next chapter with how much I am tired

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lulusoblue · 7 years

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Initiate (Headcanon as Transgender - Renet Tilley)

So. This is late. And turned out to be way longer than I was planning it to be. Whoops.

This is my part for Day 5 of @lgbtmntweek! I think i’ve grown to attached to Renet being a trans girl, and I spent a lot of time writing this drabble hoping I was being respectful enough and not getting it wrong.

As a heads up, I headcanon that the timeline Renet originally comes from isn’t a very good one for LGBT individuals. I didn’t think she was just born into an order of time travellers, and since she’s pretty young as is in her show first appearance, I wanted to try and fit in a backstory that would explain that. Mean as it was on a 12yo girl, I tried to come up with more factors to Renet leaving her home behind besides “time travel is cool”.

So, hope you guys enjoy this one. If there’s anything you feel I’ve done wrong or insenitively about this drabble on Trans Renet, please tell me.

—

Renet was so nervous. She had to check herself over again before she left, again and again. She made sure her wig was in place and wouldn’t come loose. She gave her nails another blow to be sure they were dry, because who really knew if 33 minutes and 28 seconds was long enough for nails to dry. She readjusted the training bra for the millionth time because she still wasn’t sure if it fit properly with the slight padding she gave it with her socks.

She looked in the mirror and saw a 12-year-old girl with long blonde hair and painted nails and a training bra. She saw what she had wanted to see for so long in her bedroom mirror. She was just sad it would be the only time she could look like this in her own home.

Renet pulled on the new clothes she had bought without her mother knowing, clothes that weren’t too girly but would still get a barked order for her to put back if her mother had seen her looking at them in the store. (Her parents had really got hung up on that lately.) Once she was all changed, she checked her bag of belongings had everything she wanted to keep with her and that her bag of gear had everything she needed. With her father’s stolen credit chit in hand, she was out of the luxurious apartment at 1:00-A.

She thanked the creators that her parents were attending a dinner that night. Aside from the bigger risk of getting caught, she might have changed her mind about running away if she knew her parents were asleep and none the wiser.

It didn’t take long for the next tram to reach the city limits. Renet had been sitting as calmly as she could, wary of any familiar faces that might recognise the Tilley’s boy, but it never happened.

An elderly passenger sat opposite her for a while and asked if she was all right, but Renet managed to put off suspicions with the excuse that her parents were waiting for her at her stop. Sleepover gone wrong, she said. The old woman made a sympathetic tut and went on a tangent about kids these days until Renet’s stop came up and she abruptly excused herself. She paid her fare at the terminal and the doors slid open for her to hop out.

Things were going smoother than she had expected them to. Even smoother when she snuck into a lot outside a bar and hijacked a hoverbug, one modded for speed. Not so smooth breaking past a barrier, but the bug’s mods proved to outrun the sentries’ vehicles quickly enough.

Renet drove as far from the city as she could, until its lights were a dim speck on the horizon one way and the ruined monoliths of En-Wy-Cee rose from the ground ahead. Good. This was far enough.

It was 3:38-A. Renet got to work on her setup by the light of a glowball. Monitor here, generator there, check that all wires were where they needed to be and all fixtures were secured tight as they could be.

If all Renet had needed to be happy was an interest in science and tech, she thought, she would never be out here at all. She would be happy living as the Tilley her parents expected her to be. She would never have let her grades slip after dozing in class because she had spent the previous night digging so deep into conspiracy sites about time travellers and watchers hidden in the in-between. She wouldn’t have got in a fight with Roddy Flix over how time travel was fake, or over how girly her handwriting was. She wouldn’t have fantasised about the possibilities of time and space so much that it was all she really focused on instead of her schoolwork or whatever sport her father was suggesting she try. She wouldn’t be she. She would be a miserable girl who had to call herself a boy, at home living a linear life and letting opportunity pass her by.

So when the device she had put her hopes, blood, sweat, and tears into was all set up and ready to go, there was only the slightest hesitation. She checked her wig was still in place, then she took a deep breath. And flipped the switch.

The pulse shot up into the night sky and sent her tumbling back into the dirt and dust. The whole of the space around her and the machine rippled and waved and twisted and turned and bent and broke and -

And just as quickly everything was back to normal, just like Renet knew it would be. She brushed herself off and looks around, anticipating their arrival. Then she started getting anxious when nobody showed up.

“SMALL ONE.”

Renet spun around and had to look up to see the tall, broad-shouldered red humanoid that was suddenly in the middle of the desert with her. His face was flat, reptilian-like, and his eyes were pure black with only the glint of light reflecting from them to tell that, yes, he did have eyeballs. He loomed over her with a staff in hand, one that looked like… well… a hand. An ornament no bigger than her own hand and shaped to hold a glowing bauble.

The time traveller bent down to get a closer look at her, eyes narrowing, before saying, “LORD SIMULTANEOUS RECOGNISES YOUR REQUEST FOR A MEETING. HE HAS INVITED YOU TO AN INTERVIEW. DO YOU ACCEPT?”

Renet shuffled away from the alien man, not sure what she was expecting of a time traveller, but she was no less deterred by his… loud way of speech. “U-uh, yes, I accept! Totally!”

“GOOD. HE WILL BE PLEASED.” The time traveller straightened up and struck his staff to the ground. Behind him, a door of light opened out of thin air, and he stepped to the side. “YOU WILL WANT TO WATCH YOUR STEP.”

Renet stared at the door wide-eyed. Then she took a leap through.

–

20 minutes later, Renet sat in a cushy chair as she was being “interviewed”. By a giant, glowing, floating, head. This wasn’t quite what Renet had envisioned when she finally met the masters hidden in the corners of time, but it wasn’t a disappointment. If anything, Lord Simultaneous seemed much more excited to meet her than she was to meet him.

“And you’re only 12 in human years?”

“Yup.”

The floating head let out a chuckle that echoed throughout the chamber. “What made you believe that such a feat would work?”

“Well,” Renet began, taking a quick sip of the sweet water she had been offered, “all these forums talk about you guys online. Like, how you guys are guardians of time and you try to preserve it. So I figured if I wanted to meet one of you, I should make it look like there was serious trouble in my timeline, then boom! You show up to investigate!”

“Quite the impressive one, aren’t we?” There was something about his smile that was good, but at the same time Renet felt something more serious in the giant head’s expression. Her stomach felt a little uneasy, being honest. “I must say that’s a first for someone wanting to draw our attention, never mind a child.” He spun to look down at another agent, an incredibly tall being with several limbs and a long, sunken-eyed face. “There hasn’t been any record of faking such a temporal disturbance, isn’t that right Helki?”

The agent huffed as they fiddled about with some kind of holographic screen. “No, there hasn’t, thankfully. We would hate to have to deal with false alarms all the time.”

“Really?” Renet looked up at him, confused, as she took another cookie from the plate an apprentice had offered. “Nobody’s tried it?”

“No one has figured out how! Well, to fake one, at least.” Simultaneous frowned and shook his head. “We’ve had plenty of troublemakers cause the real deal. But an artificial distortion for the express purpose of getting our attention? You are definitely the first in my time.”

That made Renet all glowy and giddy, even with the disapproving glare from the alien Helki bearing down from across the chamber. She was a first for something, and it was a first in time travel. Eat your heart out, Roddy Flix.

“So, Miss Tilley.”

She sat up a little straighter when he addressed her that way. Miss Tilley. Not Master Tilley. Hearing herself being called Miss out loud just felt so much righter, and it meant that the effort she had put into her appearance was worth it.

“You had more motive for making contact with us than to have a pleasant chat.” The smile faded a little, taken over by that more serious feel to his demeanour that Renet had picked up on before. “You want to be a time traveller. One of us.”

She nodded. “More than anything.”

“And you are aware of what that would require on your part? What and who you would have to give up?”

There was that tug again. She remembered her parents, some good memories, and the familiar sights and sounds and comforts of her home city. But she also remembered crying in the bathroom because she hated how she looked one morning, a news report of a gay rights protest that ended horribly before her dad had changed the channel. Watching a stranger be spat on because she looked too masculine for someone else’s liking, hearing about the boy she had as a science partner one time getting beaten up for playing a stepsister in a historical pantomime for drama. Asking her mom if she could wear a dress and getting a stern look and being told, “Of course not. You’re my son, dear.”

She was aware of what she was leaving behind. She knew she couldn’t be who she was in the timeline she grew up in, and she knew going back would mean being miserable for the rest of her life. This was Renet’s only chance.

“I know, but I still flipped on my machine, didn’t I?”

Lord Simultaneous went back to the amused smile. “Very well then. Helki,” he said, looking down at the multi-limbed agent again, “give our new initiate a quick tour before setting her up in her new quarters.”

Renet was caught up in a flurry of thank-yous and I-won’t-let-you-downs as Helki grumbled and moved away from the floating head’s side. Their alien expression still reeked of disapproval as they moved past Renet, at which point Renet noticed they also had multiple limbs and hand-feet for walking on. “Try to keep up, youngling.”

Renet flung her bag back over her shoulder and grabbed a cookie for on-the-go. She was halfway to the doors of the chamber when she skidded to a halt and spun around. “Thank you again, Lo-” But he was suddenly gone from the room.

“Youngling! Keep up!”

She jumped and scrambled to follow Helki into the hallway. They were still grumbling about something as they gestured towards a set of doors that whisked open, and motioned for Renet to follow them inside what appeared to be an elevator. One of their arms reached up to enter a sequence on a screen and the doors closed. When the elevator began to move, it felt less like going up or down and more like going from side to side then up to down and all sorts of ways. Renet guessed this would take some getting used to.

“Well, might as well get the first facts out of the way while we’re waiting,” Helki finally spoke, their voice dry as they continued to fiddle with their datapad. “If you have any ailments or concerns regarding your health, go and see Doctor Tyl, not Doctor Tul. Tyl is the one familiar with human physiology.” They looked down at her with a stern face. “Do not let Tul try to treat you. The last thing I need is a mishap misdiagnosis for a youngling from him.”

“Doctor Tyl, not Tul, got it,” Renet repeated, trying to keep herself from bouncing out of control.

“However, if you’re in need of advice regarding your hormones and the like, Doctor Evr'i is much more knowledgeable in the matter.”

Suddenly, Renet wasn’t in the mood for bouncing. She was in the mood for running. Renet gulped and looked up at Helki. “H-hormones?”

“Mmm,” Helki hummed, all six eyes glued to the datapad. “If you would feel more comfortable by adjusting them, Evr'i is the one to go to. Helps your presentation around strong-nosed species if you would prefer to keep physical tells to yourself.”

She was panicking. And close to crying. Who had she been kidding, thinking she could just be a girl like she wanted without anyone knowing? But the casual way Helki was telling her this was so… odd. “S-so… you know I’m… a boy?”

“I can smell that you have a male body, yes.” One of Helki’s hands tapped their nostrils. “Like I said, strong-nosed species will pick these things up, and not all of them think to check any visual cues contradicting physical gender. Not that all species share the same idea of gender norms. Considering your record, I thought you would appreciate being informed as soon as possible.”

That got her attention. “My record?”

Helki’s eyes looked down at her in a confused way. “You think Lord Simultaneous just requested an interview for the one who caused the first falsified temporal distortion right on the spot? He’s not that foolhardy. Vork was sent to pick you up at a point as soon as possible after you activated your device.” Helki pointed three hands at their datapad to make a point. “Before that I spent three standard weeks working on your file. Which Earth timeline you originate from, significant events, the fact that you enjoy these ‘cookies’.” They huffed. “I still argue that recruiting a youngling is unwise, even given your living situation. Time is not a game.”

“I don’t think it’s a game!” Renet quipped. She was still quivering and panicking even through her bout of stubbornness, because she realised something. “Wait… so y-you knew I was… not a girl. And you guys still wanted me?”

That gave Helki pause. They tutted, and for the first time since Renet had met this grumpy agent of time, they softened. “You are a girl, by what I’ve gathered from putting that report together. And, yes, Lord Simultaneous had pretty much already decided to snatch you up as a potential apprentice as soon as we had more information on you. The dossier and interview might as well be formalities given the situation.” Then Helki went back to grumbling and focused on the datapad. “Because Makers know we need to keep to a paper trail on these matters.”

Renet had no idea what to make of things. She was a time traveller, or going to be, and she was allowed to be who she was while doing it. She wouldn’t have to hide it like she had thought she would. Her nerves slowly eased themselves and she felt the buzz of her excitement rising up again. But before she could let herself go absolutely giddy again, she had to check again. “So is anybody here gonna care about… well…” She gestured vaguely at herself. “…me? Besides the smell thing? Do I smell bad or anything?”

That raised Helki’s eyebrows - eyes-as-brows? - in what appeared to be amusement. “Youngling, I am an apostate from the moons of Kaltauri 7. If I am accepted here, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be welcome.” They tutted again. “This is why I don’t like dealing with human-related matters. Your species’ societies unnecessarily suffocate their younglings’ freedom to explore identity and it frustrates me to no end. No offence.”

Renet readjusted her wig again and imagined herself years later, in the garb of a time traveller, hopping throughout time and meeting historic figures and growing her hair out long enough to style it. “Nah, what you said sounds about right.”

—

Three years standard later, Renet was looking in the mirror as she carefully braided her hair around her head. She had taken Helki’s advice to see Doctor Evr’i, who had talked her through a number of things beyond masking a scent. According to Evr’i, Helki wasn’t one for tact. Renet got used to that about them after a while.

Renet had decided to start hormone therapy after getting Evr’i’s advice. She’d never thought such a thing would be possible for her, even less than the probability of becoming a time travelling. And yet here, she was. She could look in the mirror and do her makeup and nobody could scare her or stop her.

No, the only thing she couldn’t do now was hop around time as much as she wanted to. Stupid rules about meddling with time and space.

#tmnt 2012 #renet tilley (2012)#lgbtmntweek #lgbt tmnt week #trans renet headcanon

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mimikoflamemaker · 7 years

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Tagged

I was tagged by @chenria - thank you dear

Tag under the cut for length reasons ;) Also not tagging anyone because

Are you named after anyone? I don’t think so - my grandmother chose my name because she liked it - Justyna - and it’s not bad at all. But I doubt there was any special reason behind it.

Also, since she requested for her first grandchild to be a girl no one ever wondered what they would named me if I turned up to be a boy - that was never an option ;)

When was the last time you cried? Hmm that would be... a month ago when I went to discuss quitting the PhD with my tutor. I don’t cry often (usually not at all and sure as hell not in public) but the mental strain of all of this was too much this time.

Do you like your handwriting? Nope it’s way too messy... and it got worse since I started to mostly type everything. You’re usually unable to tell whether I mean to write “o”,”a” or “u”.

What’s your favorite lunch meat? Chicken breast preferably in any way, shape or form as long as it’s not steamed ;)

Do you have kids? Not yet and not in the foreseeable future - but I do want to have kids one day

If you were a different person, would you be friends with you? I would try... But I probably wouldn’t have enough patience to wait for my actual self to warm warm up to me.

Do you use sarcasm? You sort of have to when you’re an introvert working with people on daily basis - it’s good cover for blunt honesty when you can’t call someone an idiot straight into their face.

Do you still have your tonsils? Yes.

Would you bungee jump? I’ve seen what can happen if something goes wrong so no - I’m never doing this myself.

What’s your favorite cereal? I’m not much of a cereal person... or breakfast person for that matter. Which is bad i know - I studied this shit ;)

Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Nope - but I do that when I have to put them back on.

Do you think you are a strong person? I can say that I’m one tough cookie - I really need something big to break down emotionally; physically - it’s not what I was used to back in the day (office work will do that to you ;) ) but I’m working to rectify that and I’m still rather strong imo

What’s your favorite ice cream? No ice-cream for me. Cream/vanilla when I have to but 5 years of working in the cafe has killed my joy of eating ice-cream effectively.

What’s the first thing you notice about people? Hands - it probably stems from years of nails picking

What’s your least favorite physical thing about yourself? My hair - its a on giant mop of wtf if I neglect haircutting or I’m trying to re-grow them... plus they recently got thinner than they used to be and they generally looking rather unappealing to me

What color pants and shoes are you wearing right now? Gray jeans, no shoes - I’m padding around the office only in my socks

What are you listening to right now? Ambient noise of the evening traffic: cars , trams, occasional train

If you were a crayon, what color would you be? I think green is the most accurate choice

Favorite smell? Autumn morning (away from the city smog is definitely not my thing). Rain is a close second

Who was the last person you talked on the phone with? My 2nd younger brother (there are 3 of them)

Favorite sport to watch? Got used to watch most of them (football especially) but I usually do it because I have to so I don’t pay much attention to what is going on.

Hair color? Brown

Eye color? Either, green or grey or blue depending on light/mood whatever - never figured that one out. Always with some specks of copper. But they’re definitely pretty

Do you wear contacts? Only glasses. I tried contacts, but when I remove the first one I go so blind I can’t remove the other and staring to freak out... Last time my brother had to save me ^^;

Favorite food? Pork roast with dark gravy and “kluski slaskie” (small round dumplings made from cooked potatoes) will probably come out on top most of the times... but I like a lot of other food - italian and asian tastes are my particular favorites.

Scary movie or comedy? I’m not really a movie person.

Last movie you watched? In cinema - 2nd part of “50 Shades..” Don’t judge me -_- My mom was asking me to go with her - I couldn’t say no. DVD - some part of LOTR probably it was a long time ago. And I TV I mostly watch what’s on thought I’m trying to stick with good old “Criminal Minds” “CSI” or “Bones”

What color shirt are you wearing? Green turtle-neck

Summer or winter? It I have to choose - winter - I prefer sitting at home wrapped in 3 blankets to trying and jump out of my skin because there is nothing else to remove.

Hugs or kisses? Hugs - if I feel like getting cuddly which doesn’t happen often

Book you’re currently reading? "Kill Your Heroes” by Evil Is A Relative Term on ff.net

Who do you miss right now? My dignity... jk. Though I still feel like a failure after giving up the PhD even if I know it’s for the better

What’s on your mouse pad? A truck (not my fault I’m in the office ;) )

What’s the last TV program you watched? An episode of “Bones” before leaving for work today.

What’s the best sound? A raging storm - as long as I’m listening to it from the inside of the house.

Rolling Stones or The Beatles? Neither, really.

What’s the furthest you ever traveled? Furthest would be Tunisia - but it wasn’t the best idea

Do you have a special talent? They way I can put words together I believe... but no one considers that special anymore

Where were you born? In the same city I still live in - north-western Poland.

#personal #I was tagged #chenria

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grapsandclaps · 6 years

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GRAPS AND CLAPS REVIEWS - FUTURESHOCK UNDERGROUND 31 #PACINPRESTWICH

Hello and welcome everyone to this edition of Graps and Claps taking me this time to Prestwich once again for Futureshock Wrestling Underground 31 to see the appearance of former WWE star and current Dragon Gate kingpin PAC as he was set to take on one of Futureshocks standouts in the form of Soner Dursun for whom in recent months had recaptured the form that he was showing in a Futureshock ring in 2017 - so anticipation for this match was at a high level for those in attendance, which I can happily say was very much a sellout with people standing at the back to get a view of the action.

As ever, though before the wrestling was the pre-show festivities in Bury, as me and Geoff took our friend Andrew Campbell on a whistle-stop tour of the town's drinking scene as he had not visited it before. First pub was The Thirsty Fish Micro pub that is located next to Bury Bus Station, this small establishment was fairly packed with customers wanting to take a break from shopping on Bury's world famous market with a wide range of Cask, Keg and Ciders to wet the whistle - of which I tried two pints, first off being from Stod Fold Brewery - West Coast Pale Ale (4% £3) which was a nice light starter but rating nothing above average for this drink. However, the pint of Moorhouse Sabbath Flight IPA (5% £3.40) was a more Moorish drink that hit all of the right notes. Even though this place is tucked away from most of the other pubs in Bury, it is certainly one to visit on your travels!

Next stop as ever on a walk around Bury was The Trackside who finished No.2 in the 'Pub of the Year' for Graps and Claps offering a good range of local ales ranging from your 3.8% pales to 12% Barrel Aged Stout this is a good place for the beer connoisseur. My pint for the half an hour or so we was here for was a pint of Torrside Marynka Hazy Pale Ale (4.5% £3.20) that was quite fruity in taste, on the other hand Andrew's 7.4% stout was a bit too strong in barrel aged taste. Next pub was just the 1-minute walk to The Clarence which is home to Silver Street Brewery, plus a range of other ales, cocktails and a good fine dining experience which it has won awards for - a far cry from when it used to be a proper local shithole that I frequented on many a Thursday night. Only the one pint here from Scottish Brewery Inveralmond 'Bard' (4.6% £3.75 with a CAMRA discount), that I would give a 6/10 - proper solid malty drink!

With the time coming up to half 4, we then visited two more pubs before taking the tram to Prestwich. First being, Wyldes which is under the Joseph Holt's banner. Recently this place has had a refurbishment, now offering pizzas on order and plenty of TV Screens showing the afternoon's sport which to be honest has added a bit more character to a pub which was always generally quiet when I used to go regularly. Siding with a pint of Nethergate Glory (3.8% £2.57) as it was the only one on the bar I hadn't had, we finished this off quickly, before moving on to the last stop being Automatic which is ran by the same people who run The Clarence, another fine dining place, but it does sell a good range of cask ales and a big range of whisky's if that is your tipple of choice. I myself though, went for a pint of Three Brothers APA (4.5% £3.25) that was just passable - still though well worth a visit - I certainly recommend the food here of what I can remember from my only Valentines Day in this building (yes I am still bitter - ha! Jilted Ex)

Drinks done, we arrived in Prestwich at 6:05pm only to be greeted with a huge queue outside the Longfield Suite with not much sign of it moving. We were all ready to queue, but we were greeted with the presence of Shauna who we hadn't seen for a few weeks since WXW in London (amazing to think we seemed to see each other every week), so with Shauna in tow we went for a quick drink in the Railway and Naturalist as we waited for the queue to whittle down, which it duly did when we got back in for 6:30pm. Initially though we stood up at the back up until the third match, as eagle eyed Geoff spotted empty seats on the front row next to Shauna, so we took up base there for the remainder of the show. So, with that said let's get into what went down!

First up it was 'Mr Purple Pants' Isaiah Quinn taking on Henry T.Grodd, with the latter looking to build momentum as he looked to stake a claim once again to challenge Crater for the Futureshock Title. Grodd early on beat down on Quinn to floor The Guiding Light, that was until Quinn fit a face front slam on Quinn to get back in the game. However, that was about as much as Quinn would get in as Grodd hit a tilt-a-whirl slam to Quinn and soo finished off Isaiah with a BIG Lariat to get the three count. Grodd as he has been, is getting over very well with the Futureshock audience and in some people's eyes he should be the only to slay Crater and not John McGregor but that is debatable.

Up next was 8-man tag action with many of this writer's favoruite involved with the newly turned JJ Webb teaming with Big Joe, Damon Leigh and the Nordic Accountant Thomas Wolfe to take on Callum Corrie, William Regal's son Joe Bailey and The Young Guns (Ethan Allen and Luke Jacobs). Now The Young Guns here were hoping to get a much needed victory as they have been on the wrong side of things in the last three months losing to James Drake & Sam Bailey and also Big Joe and DDL (Big and Brave) and it would be a great start for the Guns as Jacobs was like a house on fire hitting rapid fire clotheslines and knees to anyone in sight. However as the match went on, it would be Big Joe who put the baddies in control, until Joe Bailey who was wearing his dad's hand me downs, hit a double underhook suplex to Joe to get the hot tag to Callum Corrie. Unfortunately for Corrie it didn't end too well as chaos ensued around the ringside area, leading to DDL and Joe finsihing off Corrie, as Damon hit the compactor to get the three count. Chalk up another one in the loss column for the guns, who will be hoping for better luck next time as they team with The Hurricane to take on Joe, DDL and Wolfe on March 17th at Stockport Town Hall.

3rd match was 'Serious' Kev Lloyd looking to soften up Crater who is due to take on his former team mate John McGregor on the 17th March at Stockport for the Futureshock Title. As the sirens sounded for Crater, so did the patter of feet going to the bar/toilet! Now when they look back at the record books, this match will say Crater won this match which he duly did using his plodding and ponderous offence to flatten Kev with a huge lariat for the three count in around 5 minutes. What it won't say will be what a shower of shit this match was and it wasn't Kev's fault as he is a very accomplished wrestler who I do feel deserves better than this! The reaction to Crater as Champion is being played out to total silence, which has been shown in the crowd wanting a change in the form of the more mobile pairing of Grodd and John McGregor - which we all hope will be sooner rather than later.

Grodd after this match tried to attack Crater with a spear but was thwarted as the big man knocked him down - BOOOOO!!!

Thankfully after that, we got back on track as we had 3-way action for the Adrenaline Title as Chris Ridgeway took on C.J Banks and the Champion Joey Hayes, with the latter wanting to hold to his ever growing title collection at the moment that would make the Ultimo Dragon jealous. Originally, as people might remember this was supposed to involve Ilja Draguanov, but due to Dark Match duties in Coventry against my boy Ashton Smith he was otherwise engaged meaning Chris Ridgeway was his replacement. Hayes and Banks on the other hand have been tearing the house down at Stockport and Manchester, with possibly the first meeting being the best of the two! As a match, I thought this was possibly the best match of the night, with all three competitors producing a fun 3-way action that involved everyone at every moment, which generally you have one on the outside and the other two do the work - so at least this was something different from the norm.

Lasting around 15 minutes, the end came when CJ Banks who was looking to finally topple Joey Hayes, ending up getting hit with the JKO to leave him laying on the outside leaving Joey and Ridgeway to battle it out of which Hayes got the better of it as he locked in the Cross Hayes to Ridgeway who tapped out to end a fine match. After the match we had a confrontation between Hayes and Banks who look set to have another war in the coming months.

We then went into the 15-minute break and half-time photos with Chris Ridgeway of which there were quite a few takers.

Back from the break we came back with John McGregor looking for a fight with a former Futureshock Champion as he looked to get validation from someone to if he is really going to be the man to topple Crater. Now rumours had been rife that a certain Jack Gallagher was going to answer the challenge as he had been tweeting from the National Football Museum in Manchester and that looked to be proven right when Gallagher's music sounded to a great ovation from the Prestwich audience, sadly though there was no Gentleman in sight as McGregor looked on and duly attacked from behind by one Sam Bailey - BOOOOOO!!!!

Obviously with the early attack, Bailey was on top for quite a lot of this match much to the groans of the audience, still though give Bailey his due he is still a capable of putting on a good match and it certainly looked at one stage that he would prove to be that bump in the road for McGregor, but maybe he got a bit cocky for his own good as he was hit with a Tornado DDT by a valiant McGregor who got the three count in a good match to prove that McGregor possibly does have it to defeat Crater next month.

Women's action next with Futureshock up and comer in this division Hollie taking on Taonga with the shrieking Alexxis Falcon in her corner. Now as mentioned on Futureshock's last show, both Taonga and Falcon got involved in Hollie's and Lana Austin's match causing a DQ so this was set fair for Hollie to get some much needed revenge on Taonga and Falcon. For the duration of this contest it has to be noted that Alexxis was being a constant nuisance on the outside especially with our section - sitting on my mate Andrew's lap, whilst also giving shit to me and Shauna, to her credit this did get a reaction from us lot - so well done! Falcon also got involved in the ring as well as Hollie floored Taonga with a Bazooka Knee, Alexxis came up from behind to hit Hollie with a high spin kick to leave Hollie laying, which then led to Taonga to hit the Unprettier for the 3 much to the boos of the audience. Honestly, I thought this turned out better than I though it would be - good stuff!

After the obligatory raffle, we now come to the Main Event with Soner Dursun taking on 'The Bastard' PAC in what was set to be an absolute humdinger! You know what this did not disappoint anyone who bought a ticket with PAC bringing his working boots and so did Dursun who has been one of the underrated stars of the North West scene in the last couple of years. We had dives, strikes and high-octane action that kept the Prestwich crowd on the edge of their seats for the near 20-minute duration. Soner looked like he had PAC beat as he got a 2 count on a Spanish Fly as they soared through the air, it has to be said how great PAC looks with his shoulders looking like someone's kneecap - he has certainly not been on the pie and chips diet like me! PAC as well is just so fluid with his transitions from move to move, just a treat to watch.

As the match reached its conclusion, it would be the man from the North East who would get the win as he hit a 450 splash and then locked in the 'Rings of Saturn' to tap out The Turkish Wolf to end an absolute corker of a match, possibly my second best match of the year only after the Irie/Cobb match from Leeds last week - still this should be one you should search out when it comes on Futureshock On Demand.

Show done, it time took make our way home, but not before having a quick chat to 442Dale and Chaff off the Rochdale Fan's Forum about Rochdale perilous position in League 1 and to whether Keith Hill should go - its a Yes from me! Making our way to the tram after walking past the huge queue to see PAC, we got back into Bury for 9:30pm as our wrestling weekend came to an end, with us now looking forward to Tidal's show in London on March 3rd. Anyways if you want to check out any matches from this show make sure you watch PAC vs Dursun and Banks vs Hayes vs Ridgeway.

As ever give this a like, retweets and share on the usual social media platforms and until next time - BYE!!

@oggypart3

#grapsandclaps

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prowrestlingextra-blog · 6 years

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JaxSB

This showed up today on my FB Flashback, pretty humorous article I had e-mailed a friend who had moved out of the Jacksonville area back in the late '90s. It's from the Florida Times-Union sports section during Super Bowl XXXIX week here in the 904! Circa January 2005 - Enjoy! Go ahead, bash us! We can take it; we'll even help you insult our fair town! By: MATT SOERGEL, The Times-Union Dear glamorous out-of-town journalist: How y'all doin'? Thanks for leaving your incredibly cosmopolitan city to spend a few days here in the sticks. We know: We can't believe we got the Super Bowl either! And we know that a big part of your Super Bowl fun lies in pointing out the inadequacies of the host city, even if it's San Diego, which is, like, the most perfect place on earth. Boy, you must be licking your lips waiting to dig into us (if you've been able to wait, that is). And then you've got Detroit next year -- lucky you! It gets even better: To do your big story on Jacksonville, we've saved you the trouble of having to leave your no-doubt completely unacceptable hotel room. (Sorry, the Magic Fingers aren't working and the soda machine's out of Diet.) We've done it for you. After whiling away a few hours down by the "cee-ment" pond, swatting at mosquitos and gnawing on boiled peanuts, we've come up, for all our colleagues covering Super Bowl XXXIX, exactly XXXIX reasons to bash Jacksonville. (Sure, we had more, but the XXXIX number just seemed so catchy.) They're all yours: Feel free to embellish/adapt/discard as you wish. 1. Jacksonville's original name was Cowford, a Timucuan Indian word meaning "hot, flat boring place by the river." 2. Jacksonville: Conveniently located near South Georgia. 3. Yes, we're small. But we are the second biggest city in the country with a "ville" in its name, behind only Hooterville, home to Uncle Joe, the Petticoat Junction girls and Arnold the pig. 4. Yup, that's downtown. That's all there is. There isn't any more. 5. There are so places to eat after midnight. You got a problem with waffles? 6. There are multiple dining options in Jacksonville: Fried or smothered in barbecue sauce. Or both. On waffles. 7. Strip clubs here have either nudity and no alcohol, or alcohol and no nudity. City council members spent the better part of January discussing how many square inches of buttocks could be exposed by bikini dancers. Some fun, huh? 8. As unbelievably grim as it is here for you glamorous out-of-town journalists, we're actually all spiffed up for our big date with the Super Bowl. You should see us in the morning, without our makeup on. Man, oh man. 9. Is Jacksonville Southern? Put it this way: We have public schools named for Robert E. Lee, Jeb Stuart and Nathan Bedford Forrest (one of the founders of the KKK). 10. There really are Confederate flags in the windows of pickup trucks. We can vouch for that. 11. Sure, it's unbearably hot nine months of the year. But it's a wet heat. 12. "Cute" is probably not the highest praise a Super Bowl city could ask for its airport. 13. Jacksonville's as red as red-state America gets. And if you have a problem with that, you must be a girly-man, defeatist ultra-liberal who hates America. 14. Even Orlando likes to make fun of us. Orlando! Our response: "Yeah, well ... um ... uh ... Mickey Mouse!" 15. When we want to make fun of someplace, we pick on Yulee. Hardly a fair fight, but that's the way we like it. 16. Since they fixed the paper mills, it doesn't smell anymore. Not as much anyway. Unless the wind's blowing down from Yulee. 17. Yes, that's an ocean 15 miles east of here. But they built the city on a river. Go figure. 18. Jacksonville is so backward, the river runs north. 19. There are lots of things for tourists to do here. It's called St. Augustine. 20. You weren't mistaken: Somebody just called you "honey." (Admit it: You liked it.) 21. True fact: The college radio station in town plays easy-listening music. 22. At last count, 18 radio stations were vying for the honor of being called Jacksonville's classic-rock station. 23. The remaining three stations play today's country hits, all the time. 24. There are two kinds of homeowners in Jacksonville: Those who say they have cockroaches, and those who are liars. 25. That cool Skyway tram you see running through downtown? It doesn't go to stadium. Or the arena. Or the ballpark. Or The Jacksonville Landing. But it does connect a couple of really big parking lots. 26. Jag-wars? Jag-wires? We're still making up our minds. 27. Lynyrd Skynyrd, Molly Hatchet and .38 Special all came from Jacksonville. Notice a trend? 28. Limp Bizkit too. Our bad. 29. Just like in other cities, concertgoers here hold up cigarette lighters and chant: "Free Bird!" Only we're not being ironic. 30. Jacksonville is so boring, even hurricanes won't come here. 31. The biggest landmark downtown is First Baptist Church. At least we know they aren't going to go out of business. 32. Can't find a cab? Don't feel bad. Jacksonville natives have never seen one either. "That's one o'them yeller cars, right?" 33. Last call in this town is 2 a.m. However, get-your-butt-kicked-because-you-looked-at-my-girlfriend-the-wrong-way-time is right around 1:45 a.m. 34. Yes, that was a restaurant sign you saw that said "Chinee-Takee-Outee." 35. A strip mall for every taste. 36. There's a slight sprawl problem. Wherever you are, you're 25 minutes from wherever you want to be. 37. Sweet Home Alabama invariably gets the biggest cheers at a Jaguars game. And we don't even like Alabama. 38. Jaguars games almost never sell out. We're too busy doing, um, ah, all kinds of other exciting stuff instead. 39. The city recently chose a new slogan: Where Florida Begins Runner-up slogan? The City That Sleeps

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dawnbutterfly · 7 years

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Big Brother

((Alright, so... because of the positive, or at least not-negative reception of Adoption, at the suggestion and inspiration of @keeperixx, I wrote a sequel. Where as the first one focused on my New Kid rescuing Butters from his shit-awful abusive parents, this one takes the opposite approach, focusing on Butters being there for his little brother in a moment of vulnerability. Thus, I present “Big Brother”. As before, read my cringey shit at your own risk.))

Darkness.

Grant scanned over his environment. The inky blackness seemed to stretch on forever.

“Hello?” He called out, answered only by a slight echoing of his own voice. “Is anyone there?”

Spinning on his heels again, he got an annoyed look on his face. “If you've kidnapped me, I can tell you that's a big mistake!” He shouted out impatiently.

“You're not the one who was kidnapped…” A voice, barely a whisper, sounded right next to his ear.

Grant whipped around, his fists raised ready for a fight, but saw no one there. He blinked, confused, before feeling a strange sensation on his hands. Looking down at them, he saw them dripping with blood.

A look of horror came to his face as he tried to shake the viscous fluid off of his hands.

“Why…?” Another, different voice came from behind him. He turned slowly, coming face to face with a grizzly visage of his father, head severed and held at eye level by his body, his eyes cold and vacant.

“Why did you kill me, sport?” The head spoke, blood leaking from its lips as they moved.

Grant recoiled in fear and horror. “N-No… I-I didn't want to! I-It needed a DNA sample! I-I didn't have a choice, I had to save my friends!” He stammered.

“But you came to save us, sweetie.” The first voice sounded. He turned, and saw his mother, the same vacant, dead look in her own eyes, her left arm severed and held in her right hand.

“I couldn't walk. I was almost dead. But you chose me anyway. You chose me over your father, and you murdered him!” The woman cackled.

“N-No… you told me to do it! You told me…” Grant said, tears flowing down his face.

“Say, sport… you're our child, aren't you?” Grant's father spoke. He turned slowly to meet his dead eyes once again.

“That means you have the same DNA as your mother and I.” The horrible apparition continued. “It would have accepted your DNA for the sample, wouldn't it?”

Grant's eyes widened. He felt another hand grab his right arm. Turning, he saw it his mother's severed arm, still held by her other hand. “If you had just cut off your hand, we could have both made it out. You know that laser would have seared the wound shut. We could have all lived.” She barked out spitefully.

“B-But you're alive now! I-I fixed it! I fixed the timeline! I kept you safe!” Grant pleaded.

“You think just because you erased it, that means it didn't happen!?” His mother screamed. “You didn't even know you could fix it when you did it!”

“You cut off my head, and then you left your injured mother to die!” His father shouted.

“We could have lived. We could have lived. We could have lived.” The two chanted, drawing closer and closer as Grant stood frozen in fear.

“YOU CHOSE WRONG!”

⁂

Grant's eyes snapped open, a mix of shock, horror, and illness on his face. His hand flew to his mouth, and he quickly rushed to the bathroom, hunching over the toilet and retching his guts out.

He wiped his mouth, trying to steady his breathing. It was only then he noticed an odd feeling from his pants legs. Looking down, he sighed, a blush coming to his face.

“Damn it… I can't deal with this on a school night…” He mumbled to himself. He walked over to the cupboard under the sink, opening it to reveal a small stash of spare clothes. Sighing again, he took a pair, and quickly changed into them, stuffing the soiled ones into a bag he could hide until he could wash them.

With another sigh, he morosely walked back to his room, closing the door behind him.

“How many times is that, now?” A voice startled him as the door latched shut. He looked up to see his adopted brother, Butters, standing at the foot of his bed. Next to him, he saw the sheets and bed cover from his own bed bundled up on the floor.

Grant looked away in embarrassment. “Which do you mean? How many night terrors I've had? Or how many times I've wet myself in fear of them…” He asked spitefully.

Butters didn't reply, but quietly walked up to Grant, taking him by the hand. Grant tensed for a moment, but relaxed, and allowed Butters to lead him back over to his bed. They both pulled themselves up on to Butters' bed and sat silently for a while.

“You know…” Butters finally spoke up. “I've had a lot of nightmares in my life too. My fair share of… accidents because of them as well…”

Grant just kept staring down at his lap.

“I'll be honest, I can hardly imagine what would scare you so badly that would happen, but…” Butters paused, feeling Grant's discomfort and shame. He reached over and patted him on the shoulder.

“But just know that I know where you're coming from, if you want to tell me…” Butters finished.

Grant remained silent for several moments. Butters simply sat with him patiently.

“You… you know how I have the power to control time?” Grant finally began. Butters nodded.

“W-Well… in an alternate timeline, we got… we got stuck in the old genetics lab up on the hill. Or… maybe that still happened. It's hard to tell…” Grant started.

“I remember it happening.” Butters said reassuringly. “You went out and turned on the tram so we could all escape. You saved us…”

Tears formed in the corners of Grant's eyes. “Y-Yeah, well… you don't know what I had to do to turn it back on…” He said. Butters looked at him with concern.

“That whole god forsaken place is built like a death trap… and in order to reactivate the tram, I had to…” Grant choked up, the tears falling from his eyes.

Butters took hold of his hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I'm here for you. Big brother's here…” He said, trying to comfort him.

Grant took a deep, steadying breath. “T-The controls… needed a DNA sample from one of my parents in order to reset… a huge DNA sample…” He explained, Butters' eyes widening.

“I-I had to choose… to choose a parent to kill… to feed the god damn machine a piece of their body to make it work again… so I could save everyone else…” He said between sobs.

He finally looked Butters in the eyes. “I-I cut my own dad's head off to escape a room, Butters!” He said, perhaps a little too loud. He covered his mouth, looking down. Butters looked thunderstruck.

“I-I killed my own dad… and then I left my hurt mom alone… and…” He choked on his own crying again.

“W-Well… your dad seems fine to me.” Butters offered, unsure quite how to handle what he'd gotten himself into.

Grant sniffled loudly, taking another deep breath. “I-I changed the timeline, from way back in the past. S-Somehow it made it so my parents never ended up in that situation. I'm not entirely sure how…” He said. “B-But that doesn't change the fact that I did it. I killed my dad, a-and left my mom for dead…”

“Grant, you…” Butters started.

“I-I-I'm their child, Butters! H-How could I just choose one of them over the other like that!?” Grant began sobbing again. “I-I chose myself over them! I-I have DNA from both of them! The scanner would have taken mine just as much as theirs! I-I should have just cut off my-”

Grant was cut off when Butters latched onto him in a hug. He just stared absently out a the room in shock.

“D-Don't say that, you hear me?” Butters said. Grant could tell that he was crying too. “W-What if whatever you cut off wasn't enough? A-And what if you bled out, or went into shock because of it? W-What good would it do if you got yourself killed trying to save everyone?”

Grant looked down silently.

“Everything about that place was awful. You remember how mad Craig got about how stupid everything was. So don't you blame yourself for doing what you had to do to save the people you cared about.” Butters said, hugging Grant tightly. “Y-You were saving you friends. You were saving your brother. And in the end, you saved your parents too.”

“B-But it wasn't fair of me to-” Grant began.

“You're right, it wasn't fair.” Butters said sternly. “It wasn't fair that a nine year old had to go fix a tram system. It wasn't fair that a little kid had to kill their dad to do so. N-None of it was fair to you, and I'm so sorry you had to go through it…”

“You do so much for this town. Even when people treat you badly, and throw you under the bus, you still stand up tall and fix everything when no one else can…” Butters said, patting Grant's back soothingly. “Your friends are alive. Your family is alive. So if you won't believe it for yourself, then believe it from someone you saved when he says you don't deserve to suffer. You don't need to hate yourself…”

Grant sat in silence, processing what Butters had said. Eventually, he simply closed his eyes, and finally returned the hug Butters was holding him in. Tears kept streaming down his cheeks, but his breathing steadied.

“What did I ever do… to deserve such a caring brother…” Grant said through sniffles.

Butters finally pulled away from the hug, putting a comforting hand on Grant's shoulder. “Hey. Brothers have to look out for each other, right?” He asked with a smile.

Grant wiped the tears from his eyes and returned the smile. “Right…” He said.

Suddenly the emotional exhaustion finally hit Grant, and he yawned widely. Looking over to his clock, he saw that it was about two in the morning. “Aw man, getting up for school is gonna suck…” He said.

Butters chuckled. “Then I guess we should probably get back to sleep, huh?” He said.

“Yeah…” Grant said, looking over to his own bed, bereft of sheets, and still with the faint outline of the wet spot on the mattress. He blushed.

Butters patted his shoulder again. “Hey, why not sleep here in my bed tonight? Just in case you need a hand to hold…” He said.

Grant smiled sheepishly. “Thanks…” He said.

Grant reached over and grabbed the pillow from his own bed, and the two shuffled their way to the head of Butters'. Managing to fit the second pillow on the bed, they both settled in under the covers, back to back.

“Good night Grant.” Butters said with his own yawn.

Grant was quiet for a moment.

“Good night… big brother…” He said, smiling to himself.

Shortly thereafter, he drifted off back to sleep.

⁂

Darkness.

Grant scanned over his environment. The inky blackness seemed to stretch on forever.

This time, though, he wasn't quite so alone.

“You killed us!” The ghostly apparitions cried out.

“Not tonight, fellas. We've got school in the morning.” A young blonde replied with an innocent smile.

Grant stood in the dark, his mother, father, and brother all hugging him tightly. The dark versions of his parents slowly faded away, leaving him alone with the ones he loved.

You chose right.

#Text #SP #South Park #New Kid #Butters Stotch #I guess my little one-off is a proper alternate timeline now #I figure I'll tag it this time and see how much hate mail I get #Adoption Timeline

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