#hold up mate what about safety protocols? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

salvador-daley · 4 years ago

Text

Quarantine (Part 1)

Robert Sheehan x Reader

A young starlet finally lands what she hopes will be her big break. But first she has to endure two weeks locked up with her annoying co-star

CW: Smut, of course. Plus a lackadaisical attitude to airline safety protocols

The flight is a little delayed, so you wheel your Louis Vuitton case into the airport lounge and order a glass of champagne. You pick a table by the floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking the terminal concourse and pull out your book, trying to ignore that tight knot of nervous energy growing in your stomach. You hate flying and your anxiety only seems to get worse the more you do it.

Is it too soon to take one of my pills? you think. Probably. The flight could be delayed even longer and then you’d only end up falling asleep in this armchair and missing it altogether.

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you barely register the tall man entering the lounge and sauntering towards your table, only fully becoming aware of his presence when he drops his slightly tatty leather rucksack at your feet.

“Hello there!” he says brightly in an Irish accent, slumping into the seat opposite uninvited. “I believe we’re going to be working together soon.”

You look up and see the familiar face of your new co-star smiling back at you. He’s wearing a designer duffle coat that could just as easily be from a charity shop and a slightly see-through sweater that appears to have been purchased from the womenswear section. You note that it bears several holes around the neckline.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you,” you say, extending your hand and introducing yourself.

“We’ve met before actually, at Nancy’s New Year party last year,” he says, shaking your hand, his various beaded bracelets jangling.

You smile at him blankly. You spent that entire party sucking up to a producer who would later tell you that you were “a little too provincial” for a part you wanted, whatever the fuck that means.

“Anyway,” he says after an awkward beat, “I’ll bet you’re looking forward to being locked up in quarantine when we get to the other end.”

“Oh, I dunno,” you sigh, “I think maybe two weeks of peace and quiet sounds pretty nice. I’m quite good at entertaining myself and it’ll hopefully give me a chance to look over the scripts again. What about you?” you ask.

“I’ve come prepared,” he says, opening his coat to display a dog-eared copy of the Bhagavad Gita poking out of his inside pocket.

“Hindu scripture,” you say, raising your eyebrows. “That is some hardcore reading material.”

He leans forward: “Oh, I’m sure it’s no less hardcore than…” he lifts your book away from the table to look at the cover, “Jackie Collins! Now that is hardcore,” he says, giving you a devilish look.

“Don’t take the piss,” you say, snatching the book off the table and shoving it in your bag. “It relaxes me, I’m a bad flyer.”

You lean back and cross your legs, catching him as he steals a glance at the strip of flesh between your thigh-high boots and your leather miniskirt.

“You’ve dressed for comfort, I see,” he says, using his eyebrows to indicate your outfit.

“I’m not about to end up on the front page of TMZ in my jogging bottoms,” you scoff.

He sighs and leans back in the chair, shoving a hand into the pocket of his... jogging bottoms.

“Not everyone can pull them off,” you add quickly.

He smiles, perhaps at your accidental double entendre.

“Oh, I’m sure you could,” he says.

****

“Welcome aboard, sir, you are in seat 3A,” says the flight attendant, tearing off the stub of his boarding pass. “And you are in seat 3F, madam,” she adds, tearing off yours.

“Oh well, we can wave at each other across the plane,” he says, giving you a wink as he heads inside.

As he takes his seat he actually does wave at you from across the plane, wiggling his fingers impishly. You wave back and attempt to smile underneath your face mask, but your nerves are getting the better of you now. You slip one of your pills beneath the mask and try to concentrate on staying calm, every whirr and click of the aircraft setting your teeth on edge. At least the seat next to you is empty. You couldn’t cope with being sat next to a snoring stranger for the next eight hours.

As the plane takes off, you close your eyes, gripping the armrests and concentrating on taking deep breaths. After a while, you become vaguely aware of the seatbelt light turning off in the cabin.

He drops into the empty seat next to you: “How are you holding up?”

“Not great,” you say, opening one eye to look at him. “My therapist told me to take deep breaths, but that’s easier said than done.”

“Excuse me, my love,” he says, stopping a passing member of the flight crew. “Do we have to wear these for the whole flight?” he asks, indicating his face mask.

“I’m afraid so, but you can remove it if you’re eating or drinking,” she replies.

“I guess we should order some drinks then,” he says.

****

As he talks, you catch yourself watching his lips and you subconsciously run your hand through your hair. You’re both several drinks deep now and you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been sat like this, heads together, talking in confidential tones in the darkness.

Every now and then he leans a little closer and that playful look in his green eyes causes your stomach to flip. Although I suppose that could just be the turbulence, you think.

This close, you can smell his coconut shampoo and hear the chinking of his various beads and trinkets as he ruffles his hair. When it’s your turn to talk, you catch him snatching glances at your lips, his smile travelling to his eyes as you swap funny stories about shared acquaintances.

“So have you always been a nervous flyer?” he asks, sipping his drink.

“No, I used to enjoy flying, but it’s just got worse over the years,” you say, your face beginning to warm from the effects of the alcohol. “Actually,” you say, leaning your head closer to his conspiratorially, “I’ve always had this thing…” You stop yourself, suddenly aware of how unguarded you’re being: “No, I can’t say.”

“Oh, go on, tell me,” he says, in a low voice, shifting his body towards you in his seat.

“No, I can’t,” you say, shaking your head and half-covering your eyes shyly with your hand. You must be a bit drunk, otherwise you wouldn’t even consider telling him this.

“Come on,” he begs, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the plane.

“Ok, fine,” you say, whispering now, “I’ve always wanted to…,” you pause as the flight attendant passes your seats, “I’ve always kinda wanted to do it on an aeroplane,” you say eventually, cringing at yourself.

His thick eyebrows rise immediately at the revelation and his face breaks into a wide smile.

“Really?” he says, excitedly.

He looks around the plane for a second, then turns to you again.

“Well, in completely unrelated news,” he says quietly, trailing his fingers along the flesh above the cuff of your boot, “I’m going to head to the toilet. I’ll be using that one right there, just in case you need to know for any reason,” he adds, pointing to the bathroom at the head of the plane.

He rises now, giving you a wink.

“You’re not serious?” you ask, in a hushed voice. But he only bobs his eyebrows in response as he opens the door and shuts it behind him. The light comes on above, indicating that it is occupied, and you just sit there, your heart racing in your chest now, blood rushing to your face.

You look around the plane. Only a couple of reading lights illuminate the cabin and most of the occupants are now asleep.

Oh my God, this is madness. You’re not actually considering this? You’ll be caught. You’ll be arrested. Imagine what the press will say.

You undo your seatbelt and step into the aisle, the pounding in your chest travelling to your ears.

This is crazy, you think, walking up to the toilet door. You rap quietly on it and for a second you wonder if perhaps this is some cruel prank he’s playing on you. How will you react when you call his bluff? I was only kidding, I’m not really going to shag you in an aeroplane toilet, mate. Haha, so funny.

He opens the door and pulls you inside, locking the door behind you.

“Thank God, for a second there I thought you were going to leave me hanging,” he says, pulling you close and connecting his mouth with yours.

One of his hands wraps in your hair while the other pushes your skirt up over your ass. He grabs it and pulls you even closer, pressing his erection against you. His kiss is intense, frenzied even, devouring you while his hands press your body into his.

The tiny room fills with the sound of heavy breathing as his mouth explores yours, then moves to your neck.

“Wait,” you whisper, catching your breath, “what if we get caught.”

He pulls away and looks at you: “I know, right?” he says, flashing you a wicked smile.

And then his lips are on yours again, his hands travelling underneath your clothes. He tears your sweater off over your head, diving his face between the lacy cups of your bra, grabbing you, biting your breast through the thin material.

Now his hand is travelling down, hitching your skirt around your waist, dipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

His lips meet your ear as his fingers circle your clit: “I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since Nancy’s party,” he whispers, slipping his fingers inside you. He smiles: “Oh, you dirty bitch, you’re so fucking wet,” he says, finding your mouth again and wrapping his tongue around yours.

He lifts you up to perch you on the edge of the sink, fucking you with his fingers while his mouth roams around your neck, your collarbone, your chest.

It’s all happening so quickly you barely have time to find your breath, let alone think about what you’re doing.

You wrap one arm around him, plunging your hand into his soft curls, reaching down with your other hand to grasp his cock over his sweatpants. As you palpate him with your fingers, it only spurs him on.

“I can’t fucking wait to fuck you,” he says, pulling your head back by your hair and exposing your neck to his greedy mouth.

You place your foot on the lid of the toilet and drag his sweater over his head, pulling his torso close to yours.

“We have to be quick,” you hiss, conscious of the very real risk of being caught. Your heart pounds inside your chest, like a prisoner banging desperately against the bars of a cell.

You grab the waistband of his pants now, tugging them down roughly, freeing his cock. It springs into your hand, firm and eager.

He runs his hand up your leg: “I fucking love these boots,” he says into your ear, bringing his hand up your thigh and over your ass. With his other hand, he pulls your underwear to one side and enters you, filling you with his cock.

“Jesus, you feel so fucking good,” he growls in your ear, holding your body tightly to his as he begins to thrust inside you. You squeeze your eyes shut and bite your fist to silence yourself.

Fast, duelling breaths become the only sound inside the cubicle. You cling to his body and dig both fists into his hair, meanwhile his hands wrap around your ass, drawing you closer with every thrust.

You pull his face up and look into his eyes as you fuck each other, panting wordlessly. Then he kisses you again, his tongue searching for yours.

Your mind races: He’s fucking you in this bathroom and there’s dozens of people on the other side of the door. If you’re caught, you’ll be in so much trouble. The police will be called when you land, you’ll be handcuffed, everyone will know what you did…

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you gasp, through clenched teeth, trying your best not to scream.

He groans and you feel him coming too, his fingers digging into your ass as he deepens his thrusts.

“Don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop,” you plead pitifully.

You claw at his back as your orgasm peaks, white hot adrenaline filling your veins. Every nerve in your body snaps and fizzes and you float thousands of feet above the earth, coming back down gently, like a falling feather, aided now by the gentle rocking of his hips.

You hold each other for a second, trying hard to regain your breath. Then the silence of the bathroom is broken by your laughter, then his, your bodies shaking together with liberating vibrations.

****

“You go first, give me a second to fix myself up,” you say as he pulls up his pants and slips his sweater back on, giving you one last furtive kiss before he unlocks the door and slips back into the cabin.

When you leave a minute or so later, you meet eyes with a glamorous older woman sitting in the seat nearest the bathroom, her eyebrow curling in the direction of the sky as she looks you up and down. You avert your eyes, feeling the blood rush to your face as you retake your seat.

He leans his head into yours: “I think the woman in 1E is onto us,” he whispers as you sink down beside him.

****

You lift your eye mask and see him sitting under the reading light, his head in his book.

“I can’t sleep,” you whine, sitting up in the reclining seat.

“Yeah, me neither, I gave up trying,” he replies.

“Do you want to watch a film?” you ask, offering him one of your headphones and adjusting the seat.

“Yeah, ok,” he says, closing his book and snuggling down under the blanket next to you.

You pick something at random, some vapid romcom that will ideally allow you to drift off for the last few hours of the flight.

“I auditioned for this part,” you tell him, your head resting on his chest. “Didn’t get it, obviously.”

“Really?” he says, lifting his chin slightly to look at you.

“Yeah, apparently the girl who got it was dating the director at the time,” you say, yawning.

“Well, you know what it’s like. It’s not what you know, but who you know, and who you’re willing to sleep with,” he says.

You snap your head up: “What the fuck does that mean?” you hiss at him, trying hard not to raise your voice.

“I didn’t mean you, obviously,” he says, fumbling for his words.

“You think I fucked someone to get this job?” you ask him, your eyes narrowing.

“No, no, I didn’t say that,” he says defensively.

“You think I fucked you for some ulterior motive?” you ask, sitting up in the seat now and glaring at him angrily.

“Well, Jesus, I hope not...” he says, his brow furrowing.

“I think you should go back to your seat now,” you say.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean you,” he says, pleadingly. But you’re not listening. You throw two of your pills down your throat and pull your eye mask back over your face, rolling over in your seat with your back to him.

Stupid twat, you think.

He sighs loudly and rises from the seat.

“Touchy cow,” he mutters as he heads back to the other side of the plane.

****

“And here is the key to your suite. As you are spending the mandatory 14-day self-isolation period with us, please remember not to leave the room unless there is an emergency,” says the hotel receptionist as she scribbles quickly on your registration card.

“N-n-n-n-no,” you say, wagging your finger at the receptionist. “Not suite. Suites PLURAL. There should be two, one for him and one for me,” you say tetchily, indicating to him as he stands beside you at the desk.

The receptionist shrugs helplessly: “I don’t know what to tell you, madam. I’m only seeing a booking for one here on the system.”

“Well, check it again, there must be some mistake,” you say, irritation rising audibly in your voice.

“Madam, I don’t need to check it again, this is our last available room, I’m afraid,” she says.

You become aware of him turning towards you with a smirk, watching you with amusement as you feel your temper beginning to rise.

You plaster on a fake smile. You're not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your shit.

“No problem, I’ll just make a quick call and get this all straightened out,” you say through gritted teeth.

****

“I’m sorry, darling, but that’s the best the production company could come up with,” says Lynda, your agent, down the phone.

“Lynda, I’m a reasonable person, I can share a suite with someone, but why does it have to be with him?” you plead.

“What are you talking about? Everyone loves him, you’re the only person I know who has a problem with him.”

“He’s an arsehole, Lynda,” you say emphatically.

“Look, this job is a really big opportunity for you. I don’t want you to blow this by being… yourself.”

“What the hell does that mean?” you shriek down the phone.

“Darling, you know I love you, but you have to admit you can be a bit of a.. well, you know…”

“A bit of a what, Lynda?”

“A BIT OF A DIVA, ok? You can be a real spoiled brat sometimes and kind of a hothead. Just suck it up. It’s only two weeks. Just put on a smile and be nice.”

With that, she hangs up the phone, leaving you standing there in the hotel lobby, mouth agape, speechless, furious and frustrated.

****

“No luck?” he says with a smug grin, leaning against a pillar near the front desk.

“After careful consideration, I’ve decided that I am willing to let you share my suite, just to make things easier for everyone,” you say.

“How gracious of you,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I think so, yes,” you reply, snatching the key card from his hand and striding to the elevator.

“This is going to be a fun two weeks,” he mumbles, following you to the door.

Read Part 2 here | Read Part 3 here

Liked this? Why not give it a cheeky little reblog? 😘

Want more? Check out my Masterlist

Taglist: @slutforrobbiebro @iamsexytrash @pickledbeefwastaken @m0onlitmadness @blog-kyku-us @super-unpredictable98 @love-is-dirty-baby @clumsyramen @maerenee930 @simplymesam99 @crisis-of-joy @sheehaniphilia @rob-private @rina-cydonia @pythonstarlet @icarusklaus @badsext @robertsheefan @elliethesuperfruitlover @nostalgiawings @orangepear18 @p0tat0nug @21stcenturywitchcraft @ssanjuniperoo @the-freckled-luba @motherofanimals @archivemysins @faceache111 @robertsheehanownsmyass @lezzy-4 @archivemysins

Want to be tagged for the next one? Go here to join the taglist

220 notes · View notes

ka-writes · 3 years ago

Text

——————

Notes: First of all... thank you so much for the support!!

Second, space vocab: starling: young unidentified species ISF: intergalactic safety force

Anyways, take care of yourself <3!

——————

Warning: flashbacks to abuse, if needed skip past any italicized words, mentions of child labor exploitation (Someone forces Tommy to steal), attempting to drug character, cussing, kidnapping, fear.

——————

Incase you missed:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 5:

——————

Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

——————

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33147661/chapters/82290709

——————

Chapter 6: Causing Chaos

——————

Planet Amari was their next stop. It would take only four hours to get there and usually this would be no problem if they weren’t harboring a human. Let alone the human that had just escaped the Dream Team Ship.

Phil shook his head and focused on the increased security around the boarding docks.

Amair is a planet whose only purpose is to entertain, meaning they already have some of the best security in this part of the galaxy. The added security came directly from the ISF and were now searching suspicious ships.

“Check check, one two.” The microphone turned green, “As your captain it is my duty to warn you about extra security measures. The ISF is boarding ships and checking for abnormalities. Please complete protocol 35.0.” Phil spoke into the mic and waited for everyone’s confirmation.

He got up and started the process of taking maps and blueprints that were not available to the public along with future plans and hid them in a document compartment behind one of his shelves. He then changed his normal illusion monitor and changed it to the default screen.

He stepped out of the cabin and cleaned the surrounding area, while also checking for anything that could be confiscated.

“Tommy. In order to go onto the planet I need you to wear this.”Wilbur confronted.

“No! It looks like one of those serial killer masks!! My face is too beautiful to be hidden.” Tommy scoffed.

“Tommy if you don’t wear it willingly, I will tell Ranboo about-“ Wilbur was cut off by a series of curses and Tommy fiddling the mask around his face. “Good. Put this on too.” Wilbur handed the blonde a bundle of clothes and made his way to the lab. Phil chuckled at the brotherly bond that was already forming.

He made his way down to the lab checking for abnormalities before seeping back to the holding cell. The human was pulling at his clothes while packing things back into the shelf.

“Hello mate! Whatcha doing there?” Phil asked, casually. What he didn’t expect was the human to practically jump out of his clothes in the captain’s presence.

“W-who are you?” Tommy stammered, Phil had completely forgotten he had never introduced himself before.

“Oh! I forgot we haven’t formally met. My name is Captain Philza Mine Craft, but you can call me Phil or Philza, whichever you prefer. I use he/him pronouns and am the legal captain of the SBI Craft.” Phil finished his introduction with an easy confidence, even with the face mask you could easily see the kid’s wonder, “We are currently waiting for a formal check from the ISF.” The human tensed at that, “So if you would please follow me to the common room, so I may hide the holding cell.” The human nodded vigorously.

Once Phil had dropped Tommy off in the common room he made his way to the holding cell. With a few clicks and checks the holding cell made a perfect illusion wall, which molded it into the wall not to be seen by any inspectors or gadgets they may have.

Once he had gotten confirmations from all crew members, he made his way back to the pilot’s cabin. If they were even a minute slower with preparations, security would have deemed the ship suspicious.

They settled the ship at the checkpoint and waited for a security officer to signal them.

——————

Wilbur’s leg bounced anxiously as he wore his disguise. He had finished briefing Tommy about the plan. They would lie about their origins, Wilbur doing the talking, and would get what they needed and get out.

The only thing anyone was waiting on was the guard.

Almost on queue the door began to open and a young starling stood at the door. He seemed to be genetically engineered and had wires attached to his head and 3D glasses.

“Hello everyone! My name is Jack Manifold, and I will be checking your ship!” The starling chirped, “I hope you have both we have to confiscate, because everyone here seems like lovely people. I have to ask where is your captain?”

“Right here mate.” Philza said, stepping out of the pilot cabin. “I am Captain Philza Mine Craft, of the SBI Craft. Feel free to look around.” Phil said with a hint of impatience. Jack didn’t seem to notice and made his way around the Craft.

Everyone sitting in the common room shared a few nervous glances. The only one who seemed oddly comfortable was Tubbo.. Wilbur took note of the behavior and tried to busy himself with the magazine he was holding...

When did he get a magazine?

He was immersed in an article about room design when Jack returned.

“Everything seems to be in order! The only thing I ask is that everyone introduces themselves.” His tone turned serious as he looked at the crew.

“My name is Technoblade. I am the security officer on this ship and second in command.” Techno said without faltering in tone.

“I am Ranboo. I am Technoblade’s hired assistant and do most chores around the ship.” Ranboo said clearly anxious with the attention on them.

“Tubbo, I am a hired gardener and take care of food supplies and medical ingredients.” There was a coldness to Tubbo’s voice as he finished his introduction.

“Dr. Craft, I am a toxicologist. This is my medical student, Tommy, he doesn’t talk much.” There was a suspicious glint in Jack’s eye as Wilbur continued, “We have been working for this crew for two months, before that we were traveling on our own licensed craft.” Jack accepted the answer and finished checking his notepad off.

“Alright, that will be all then! Welcome to Amari! Once I give this report to my manager, you should be able to enter the atmosphere!” With that the cheery starling left the ship and Phil closed the door before disappearing into the pilots cabin.

To say Wilbur was relieved was an understatement.

——————

Things were falling into place.

Once they were on the planet all Tubbo would have to do is add the substance to one of Tommy’s drinks and he would be acting out in no time!

But is it worth it?

He pushed the thought out of his head and finished packing the small packet in his bag before getting off the ship with the rest of the crew.

“Before we head to the shopping center, why don’t we stop by Las Nevada’s? I mean it’s Tommy’s first time on Amari after all.” Tubbo said. Las Nevada’s is the most well known restaurant and casino in Amari. It was the perfect place for Tubbo to start his plan.

“I don’t see why not. Just stay in the restaurant bit, we don’t want to draw any more attention to ourselves.” Phil answered.

With that the group walked into one of the best and worst places in the city, though no one knew of the worst bit yet…

——————

They sat around a booth compartment. It had soft red padding and purple looking palm trees, without the coconuts.

It reminded Tommy of a stereotypical mafia restaurant. Something Tommy never got the privilege of seeing.

It made him very uncomfortable, especially when the waitress gave them drinks in glass cups. He felt like whatever he touched would instantly shatter into a billion pieces.

Techno was taking Ranboo to the bathroom and Phil and Will were talking to a waitress leaving only Tommy and the scary bee boy . alone.

“I told you I was done Miranda!!” A man shouted from a nearby table causing Tommy’s attention to be focused on the couple fighting.

“You had one job. And you failed it boy.” A man slapped his face.

He was in his third foster home again. They had asked him to get at least $50 from people on the subway, he had only managed to score $20, and the man was furious.

“You’re lucky I see potential, otherwise you’d be back in that goddamn group home.” Tommy’s eyes dropped yo the floor, another slap and a hand grabbing his chin to look at the man, “PAY ATTENTION TO ME BOY. I saved you from that hell hole and I can take you back.” The man sneered. Honestly Tommy would rather be there than here.

“Hey!” Wilbur snapped in front of his face, “You with us?” Tommy nodded. The couple was gone and everyone returned. Now Ranboo and Wilbur were sitting next to him and Tubbo was sitting next to Ranboo. Did bee-boy always look so guilty?

After a minute of awkward silence, Phil and Techno started talking, their voices drowned out by the surrounding noise. Wilbur had turned his attention to his menu and Ranboo was writing in his book again.

Tommy reached for his water and Tubbo turned his attention to the human. The mask he was wearing had a flap so he could easily breathe, eat, and drink. He took a sip of water….. was water supposed to be this sweet?

“Why the fuck would someone put sugar in water as a prank?” Tommy mumbled, everyone’s attention was on the human again, “What?” He asked defensively.

“Did you say sugar?” Wilbur asked as if it was the craziest thing he had ever heard.

“Umm… yea?” Tommy said. We’re these people pulling a prank on him? Why was everyone looking at him like that?

“Tommy, can you give me your water?” Wilbur asked, he was genuinely confused by the reactions. After a few seconds he gave his water to Wilbur who immediately took a sip and spit it out.

“What the fuck?!” Tommy asked as Wilbur gave him the water back.

“That is definitely sugar.. Tommy do you feel weird at all?” He asked.

“Erm no?” This was getting stranger and stranger.

“So humans are immune to sugar…” Will said as if it was a scientific breakthrough.

“Yea? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Well for one, most species go absolutely crazy after eating sugar, for some it could lead to death.” Tubbo informed. He looked even more confused than Tommy felt.

“So like, aliens go psycho when they eat sugar? That’s lame.” Tommy laughed out the last line. Everyone looked at him with concerned glances, “I don’t think I am gonna go psycho after drinking a small bit of sugar water, I mean most people have been eating sugar their entire lives, me being one of ‘em.” Tommy finished and the underlying tension died down. Well except Tubbo’s which felt more like an angry glare meant to affect him in some way.

When the waitress came everyone gave their orders, Wilbur supplying Tommy’s. The rest of the meal was comfortable, with Phil telling stories and the rest supplying jokes and chatter, along with the occasional glare from Tubbo.

To be honest Tommy had never felt so comfortable around anyone before, he wanted so badly to let down his wall around these people. Still there was that annoying voice that told him not to trust them. For once he didn’t listen to it.

I mean what could go wrong?

——————

The plan failed. Shit.

Tubbo was mad. Not just mad, furious.

The others were having fun with the human, yet again. Tubbo had wandered off, he wanted to destroy everything, and yet he simply walked off without a second glance. He could feel the tears streaming down his face.

“Hello bee-boy!” The human scared the droneling, his ears falling flat against his head.

“I am not in the mood to talk.” Tubbo sniffed.

“Oh..” The human’s tone dropped, it was almost as if it was hurt by Tubbo’s words. “That’s alright big-man! We don’t have to talk.” The human settled with that response, with that the pair walked through the busy street in silence. Tubbo tried to throw the human off his trail but gave up after a few minutes.

After fifteen minutes of them wandering around Tubbo spotted a shop and made his way over to the electronic shop. The human followed him into the small store.

It was a small shop with tight isles and jazz music filling the silence. At the register a tall creeper hybrid fiddled with a redstone contraption. Tubbo paid no mind to him and turned his attention to some of the smaller devices scattered throughout the shop. The human shifted nervously behind him.

Once Tubbo found what he was looking for he took it over to the register. Another man stood behind it along with the original one. His eyes shifted to Tommy.

“Are you sure that’s him?” The original man asked, his name tag reading Sam.

“Yes, positive. Dream will be happy with this.” The other man replied, he stretched one of his fingerless black gloves and turned towards the pair. “Hi. I am assuming you have my boss’s patient?” The black hair man asked. He was a blazeling and had a cruel glint to his eye.

Without warning another man came up behind them and slapped a cloth over both of their faces. Within seconds the pair was out and everything went black.

He woke up in a cage.

——————

Chapter 6- End

Words: 2206

——————

Notes: The next bit will be hard to write ;-; but then we get to the fluffy-angst :D

Also this was harder to write... motivation went poof, but I won’t quit on you!!

——————

Tubbo: *tries to cause chaos—fails

Tubbo: *wanders into a random shop—causes chaos

Tubbo: .-. Wtf

——————

Chapter 7:

#dream smp fanfiction #my fanfic tag #my writing #tommy mcyt #wilbur soot #philza #ranboo #reblog #sbi au #space au #tubbo #techno #chaos #;-;#humans are space orcs

26 notes · View notes

smuggsy · 4 years ago

Note

“Don’t move, you’re bleeding.” - Collins/farrier ( I regret nothing) - Y

Regret? What's that? In this house we make Collins bleed and Farrier comfort him and we don't regret it.

Thanks for the prompt! Here it is, hope you like it a bit at least.

He feels a bit sick to his stomach when he pulls the undercarriage lever and realises no change underneath. He tries pulling it two more times until it gets stuck and he feels his breath get caught on his throat.

"Shit," he curses under his breath and no sooner has he done so than he's hearing his Squadron Leader's voice through the intercom.

"Collins?"

"Lever's stuck!" he shouts in fleeting panic, forgetting all about protocol at the realization he's going to have to land this fucking thing on the tarmac and it's going to be ten times worse than any possible water collision, "s'fucking–" he tries again, but the lever doesn't give in, "–stuck."

"Bail out," is what the older man orders, voice sounding almost matter-of-factly, like he's telling the time, and Collins will be damned if he's going to let a damn good Spitfire burst down in flames when he can save it with only a scratch or two to account for it.

"I'll manage."

After that, he shoves his headset off because he knows what follows. He only hears a strangled Collins, don't��! and then he's back on the task at hand: slowing down the bloody engine enough to slide down swiftly and even maybe save the fuselage.

He spots a number of tiny dark shapes down on the ground near the airbase with the corner of his eye and can only think, well, enjoy the show lads! as he lowers down and down; until the white streaks of paint on the runway before his eyes make him dizzy.

He keeps going like that for a bit longer than necessary, perhaps ten or fifteen seconds more as he feels cold sweat down his back and on his forehead, headquarters left long behind and only a tiny smudge of grey in the distance when he looks back.

They won't see him as clearly either.

Unless there's an explosion, that is.

He pushes the thought away because it's too late for that now, and buckles down and tries to lean back far from the glass and duck.

When he lands the safety belt keeps him from flying off his seat but it doesn’t prevent his head from hitting against the walls of the cockpit. It feels like flying through a storm but a bit worse, like turbulence but the kind of turbulence Collins supposes happens when you're already going down to your death after a direct hit.

"Fuck!"

He can see sparks surrounding him from left to right at the friction of the fuselage against the tarmac and with his heart pumping almost painfully on his chest he half-waits to hear the sound of the fuel tank bursting open and igniting.

It doesn't happen.

The Spitfire stops moving and all goes quiet.

He stays still as well, catching his breath and feeling that nausea come back strongly and fearing that if he moves too much his luck will run out, he will step off on the wrong side and something will leak and burst.

It's not long until he hears the gentle roar of an army pick-up truck and he unbuckles himself with trembling hands. Somebody else draws the canopy back, though, beats him to it, letting in fresh air that he breathes in with relief.

"Oh, you stupid git–!"

It's Farrier, and Collins feels a pair of strong arms draw him out onto the right-wing because apparently, he's swaying on his feet.

"Ugh..." is what he lets out, a pathetic sound that seems to soften Farrier's hold on him, letting him sit down, sitting down with him.

"Lean on me," his mate urges him as somebody else whose face Collins can't make out shouts something from down there. He can't make out the words either, over the ringing in his ears.

"Hang in there! Doctor's comin'!"

Farrier's voice sounds much closer, in his ear.

"Don't move, you're bleeding."

A hand comes to tug at his tie to loosen it up. He can feel Farrier's cold fingers grazing against the skin of his flushed neck and he lets out a sigh, relishing in the sensation for a moment and forgetting himself.

"Gonna throw up..."

Farrier grunts but his secure hold doesn't waver at all when Collins tries to push him away with a weak shove.

"M'gonna mess up me suit," he offers with a scowl, and he heaves and heaves but nothing comes up.

"Jesus, don't worry about the fuckin' suit."

The anger from before returns, the cold hand returns as well, to his forehead now.

"Staaay," Farrier warns, Collins tries to blink the fog away but fails, did he say he was bleeding? "Collins, stay with me, now."

"Is he alright?!"

"Where's the bloody ambulance?!"

The pilot down on the ground shrugs, turns around and squints to make out the shape of a white van and a red cross still too far away for comfort.

"If ya lemme go I gonna ssslide d'own," Collins tries to say, his words come out much too sluggish for Farrier's liking.

"I'm not gonna let you go."

"Good."

Collins lets his head drop against Farrier's chest, now that he's sure he's not going to puke his guts out.

"Thanks," he mumbles and then passes out. Farrier's insistent shaking doesn't bring him out of his concussion-induced slumber.

#it's not even 1000 words but i like it #i'm late as well lol but here it is #i wrote this instead of studying #i could write a second part if you liked it!#thanks sm for sending that prompt in!#i'm terrible at remembering names so i can't guess who you might be #Y???? sorry #but thanks again lmao #also i know i got another (angstier) prompt but this one called out to me more #mainly bc i already have a WIP with a character death and mourning theme but i might write a second part to that instead!#either way thanks for sending that in as well whoever you are (:#farrier #collins #pilot husbands #flyboys #dunkirk 2017 #dunkirk #collins x farrier #farrier x collins

33 notes · View notes

biomedmillie · 4 years ago

Text

University tips for Freshers from a final-year student

1. Don’t study the course material the summer before the course start date

I’ve known so many well intentioned students to do this (including myself!), but it is a fruitless enterprise that ends up wasting precious relaxation time. For a start, lecturers and course coordinators are constantly changing the material that ends up on the exam year upon year, and so in most instances students end up studying subjects with little or no current relevance for the course they are about to embark upon. Furthermore, course prospectus’ are infamously vague, and on more than one occasion I have studied material based upon the course plan that has no relevance whatsoever! University is stressful no matter what year you are entering, and as a first year you may be facing many other new experiences, such as living on your own, being independent and self-sustaining, that bring challenges and difficulties of their own. So don’t spend the summer stressing; use it as a reset point to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed upon that first week of university, so you can face up to those changes! If you want to be proactive but not waste your time, I suggest looking at the reading lists for each course, and lightly looking over any topics that peak your interest. From my experience, reading lists are much less likely to change year to year, and can provide interesting background information for your course- but keep the stress to a minimum!

2. Try not to party too much in Fresher’s week!

This one is so tempting to do, but there’s a few reasons why this isn’t a good idea! First off, fresher’s weeks or ‘Fresher’s festivals’ are often very overpriced and aimed at getting naive students to spend as much of that new student loan as they can before they realise how expensive food shopping and laundry is (tip; it can get very pricey!). Also, in most universities, and definitely in my case, important orientation lectures are held where attendance is mandatory on that first week of term, and it is vital you attend. In the case of science students such as myself, this includes proper usage of microscopes, lab safety protocols, grading schemes and how markings work, your tutorial assignment and can even be work due the next week! I know you might be thinking ‘I’ve heard all this in A-levels’, but universities operate to a different calibration entirely; marking is ranked on percentages rather than a curve, there are no As and Bs, and lab protocols are ALOT stricter. You are working in a higher academic environment, and as such higher academic conduct is expected of you! And this does not just apply to science students; those studying classical subjects will have specific referencing lessons (science students also have this, but only use the Harvard format), new academic writing styles, research methods etc. With all this important information, you don’t want to be hungover or worse miss the orientation and start off on the wrong foot. But if you’re worrying that not going out every night will mean you won’t make friends, don’t fret; most students, including myself, made friends with those on their course after a few months, or through living arrangements. Freshers is by no means your only chance to make friends, there are plenty of opportunities at university to do that, and after a couple of weeks you’ll find great mates!

3. Wait a bit before buying all those expensive textbooks

I’ve been guilty of this, every single year! The fact is, you don’t need every single item on the reading list, and this can even rack up to hundreds of pounds! You can find out which books you might need to buy in the first few weeks of your course, depending on library availability, how much your lecturer relies on the text for course support and content, and your personal ability in the course. Books that are in high demand at the library and the ones you can never seem to get hold off you may need to pay for, but if the book is available the majority of the time you can often rent for weeks on end, and just renew the rent when the time is up. In that case, there is no reason to buy your own copy if the library has enough to sustain demand. In the case of course content and lecturers, the reliance on the textbooks recommended varies greatly; in one course the textbook didn’t feel necessary whatsoever, in another it was a great supporting body that followed the course accurately, and other times the lecturers had used the entire information within the textbook AS their lecture content. It is only when the textbook can be utilised as supporting information that it can elevate your study, otherwise it can be irrelevant or the exact information you just heard in your lecture. Get used to each teaching style in those first few weeks, and make an informed decision whether the information required by the textbook is already fulfilled, irrelevant or would prove to be an excellent resource. Furthermore, textbooks are dense in information, but lacking in higher qualities of information that can push your grade into those top marks, so adjust your need for the textbook according to ability. If you are excelling at a certain course, the information a textbook can provide will be too basic and I would encourage you to push yourself to reading academic journals and papers to earn those top-tier marks. However, if you are really struggling with a course, stick to the basics and give a good thorough read of the textbook; it is unlikely you will understand those higher materials without at least understanding the basics, and you can still get a good grade without reading those complex sources. Both of these scenarios occurred to me in second-year; I bought textbooks for both microbiology and molecular biology, and while I found my microbiology textbook too basic and looked to higher scientific journals, the molecular biology textbook turned out to be a godsend! Everyone has different natural abilities, so I suggest to adjust your study to those needs, and your wallet will thank you in the process!

4. Find a method of note-taking that works FOR YOU

I’ve seen so many peers struggling because they just haven’t found the right form of note-taking for them, and instead follow a method that most do which I highly discourage! The method in question is where the student preemptively downloads the lecture PowerPoint, and makes notes in the space below of details the lecturer may mention. Now, this method works great if you are really on top of your note-taking and have a lot of extra time, but there’s a few reasons why I don’t recommend it. First off, by only making notes on those specific details students often miss the main body of text that acts as the core material, and as such must complete this mass of information at a later date. From my experience, students don’t have the time to do this and as such the material never becomes completed, leaving notes weeks or even months behind. Another method is handwriting. EVERYTHING. While I do agree that you remember more when you are handwriting notes (because it takes longer), this is way too time consuming and results in the same backlog of the previous methods, where your notes are always constantly behind on the lecture material. What I would recommend is a note methodology that incorporates both handwriting and typing up lecture notes, in a way that is not time-consuming. My own personal method utilises a Cornell template, whereby I copy and paste or type up the main body of text from the lecture the night before, and handwrite details of what the lecturer is saying in the columns. If you have the extra time, try reading through the lecture the night before also, and thinking of questions you have for the lecturer about any information you don’t understand. There are multiple iterations of this that I’ve seen, such as using post-its or writing on typed lecture notes, but all the most efficient in terms of time and memory utilise both typing and handwriting. That way you avoid that nasty note backlog, and can experiment with structures and templates that work with your study style. So don’t follow the crowd, and find a method that works best for you!

5. Have Fun!

University is a life-altering experience where most find their independence, and make friends for life. Whilst you should study hard and invest in your future, I wish I had told myself to go easier in my first year; you can still get a First whilst having fun, and you’re only going to have this period of your life for a few short years before you enter the world of work, so enjoy it! Study should never be your entire life, and those rest days are just as important, so try not to overdo your first year and just focus on enjoying that university experience; you’ll have plenty of time for study and stress in those second and third years! (Trust me...)

Note from the author: I hope this article helped to quell some of those fresher nerves, and gives advice I wish I had known in my first year! Comment below if you’re a second or third year with your advice for freshers, and new students feel free to comment with your hopes for the new academic year! I wish you love and luck!

#biomedical science #medicine #biomed studyblr #science #studyblr #doctor #med student #study #studying #100 days of productivity #university #freshers #study aesthetic #study blog #studyspiration #studyspo #study space #studywithme

212 notes · View notes

awintersrose · 4 years ago

Note

235) Thunder Storm (for OroTsu/missing their Third?)

From this prompt list.

As the heavy wooden door clatters shut to the banquet hall, the inauguration ceremony is complete. Konoha’s best and brightest remain in attendance to celebrate the rise of the Sixth Hokage, Hatake Kakashi, but Tsunade instead finds her escape with a pilfered bottle of sake.

She makes for a surreptitious figure, running among shadowed paths and darkened alleys, skipping rooftops toward the forest, heading toward the one place she knows she won’t be sought out. That locale is just outside the village, and happens to be the new holding quarters of her former teammate - quaintly appointed the ‘New Otogakure.’

The last long stretch of the walk is lonely, it always is, and the scent of ozone hangs in the air. Tsunade recalls that it is meant to rain this night, and she absently considers that she could be caught in a downpour at any moment. Serves Shizune right for forcing her into this kimono.

It’s fortunate that she makes her way past the Jounin on duty just as the first raindrops begin to fall.

The facility is rather modern, which she knows suits Orochimaru well. It still surprises her that he has found a form of contentment here, but then again, there are a great many things that have surprised her of late.

A beeping sound accompanies the automatic doors as they open before her - she has scarcely had the chance to press a single button, but it seems she doesn’t need to. His eyes glimmer, cat-like in the halflight, as if he has been waiting for her.

“I could sense you on your way at a hundred-fifty paces, Hime. What brings you to my humble abode?” Orochimaru crosses his arms, then gazes at the bottle in her hand. “I take it the inaugural celebration was not to your taste? Come in, then.”

She follows his fluid steps down brightly-lit corridors, giving into the knowledge that his company is the only one she can stand on a night like tonight. Now that everything is finally at an end.

Now that her service is over.

They play cards and drink, and it’s obvious that the sake won’t be enough, it’s never enough. Her spirits are far lower tonight than they have been since the war ended. Tsunade should feel relieved to be passing along the hat, but by her own measure - her legacy came at far too high a cost.

“Did you hear me?” Orochimaru snaps his fingers to regain her attention as he lays his cards on the table. “I’m about to rob you blind, Hime.”

“What?” She sets her saucer down, peering and blinking bleary-eyed at her own hand. Perhaps he might be fooled into believing she can even read the suits and values at the moment.

“You’re not nearly drunk enough to be losing on purpose. What’s the matter?” he asks, head tilting to the side as he studies her.

He already knows her scent has been radiating discontent and her pulse has been erratic from the moment she crossed his threshold, but like him, Tsunade has never liked thunderstorms. Since her arrival, the skies opened up, and have poured forth pure wrath, barreling down upon the building with heavy force. The silence amplifies the sound, and it’s simple enough to blame her nerves on the environment, yet there is more. Because even he feels the edge of it.

Once they had comfort on nights like these. Too-warm, sun bright comfort, with laughter like booming thunder and the name to match, his arms big enough to fit them both in his embrace. Jiraiya.

Now there’s only an empty space where he should be, and the only thunder present is that which crashes amongst the clouds.

“Don’t you go crazy here like this?” she demands.

“Don’t I? Hime, I think the village established long ago that I am ‘crazy’, what a question,” he smirks, shuffling the cards.

“Stop that, you know what I mean. Alone in the silence, thinking about things.”

“What good is it to think about such things? I find my distractions. And I find them well,” he sighs. “I don’t know what the point in playing is anyway, it’s not as if I can win your money and use it… Not for anything I truly want.”

“Ugh, Oro - behave.”

“Hime, you know very well I have been the model of perfect decorum and plan to be exactly that for the extent of my time as such an honored guest of my homeland.” His words drip with honeyed venom, and his golden eyes flash with a bit of understated discontent, but she knows him well enough to know he means what he says.

“You only say so because you know good behavior will get you the privilege of the equipment and requisitions you desire.”

“Just so, Hime-dear. A reciprocal balance.” Orochimaru rises to walk towards a small cabinet, where he withdraws a dark bottle.

Tsunade’s eyes sharpen. “You old snake! I didn’t know you were hiding alcohol here.”

“I wasn’t. Suigetsu-kun pilfered it and left it here. It’s a decent quality umeshu - not your drink of choice, but one I find more palatable than your choice of sake. Who made the ordering decision for the ceremony, anyway? The quality was dreadful. You don’t care because you drink like a fish.”

“Shizune - cutting costs as usual. But that doesn’t matter - open the bottle and get over here.” Tsunade waves him over, just as a particularly close peal of thunder rolls and lightning flashes through the high-slitted excuses for windows. She practically jumps in the air.

“Hime…” Orochimaru approaches, abandoning their usual distance to sit a bit closer beside her as he works the bottle open.

By his movements, Tsunade realizes just how formal this aspect of their interactions has become. Not their words, no, those have never been formal - could never be formal at this point in their lives. But when was the last time they touched with true intention, let alone affection?

She supposes the avoidance was a safety measure at first, to appease the council and prying eyes. It’s not as if she couldn’t subdue him on her own if he really were a threat. Even so, feeling him closer, so close that the silk of his haori brushes her arm as he moves, makes her aware of an emptiness she thought she’d reigned in long ago.

Despite movements that are as graceful as a geisha serving a favorite customer, Orochimaru’s pour is generous and he pushes the cup into her hand. “Drink.”

As she takes the cup and quaffs the overly-sweet liquor, all she can think about is how his biting, corrosive chakra should have always been accompanied by the solar warmth of another.

That absence is eating away at her, has been eating away at her with every toast to each accomplishment, each success of her rule as Hokage, the Allied Shinobi Forces’ victory at war…

Her gambles always have a way of fucking her over in the end. All the idiot had to do was come home.

Orochimaru takes a sip of his own drink and turns golden eyes on her, dark lashes dipping low. “I miss him too, Hime.”

“How did you even…”

“Do you remember what we used to do when it would storm like this during monsoon season?” he swirls the small amount of umeshu in his cup, contemplating the amber hue of the liquid in the dim light.

“It didn’t matter because we were together.” Tsunade shifts back and pulls her knees to her chest just as a deafening thunderclap echoes through their hearing.

With the flash of accompanying lightning, the room is plunged into darkness as the power to the building goes out.

Perhaps it’s the reminiscence, perhaps it’s the proximity, but Orochimaru finds himself caught around the waist by arms stronger than iron as he blinks into the encroaching darkness. It should feel startling and foreign, but he’s always known Tsunade better than anyone else ever could. That includes the feel of her against his form, whether in joy, or sorrow, or fear.

After all these years, her skin still smells of vanilla bath oil, even if it’s laced with rice powder, cosmetics, and the tang of old sake rising from her pores. She’s been drinking more than usual at night, it seems. Anything to chase the memories away.

It’s not as if he can blame her.

The distant hum of a motor indicates the activation of a generator, and the eerie green of emergency lights flicker along the floor as mechanical bolts lock into place at all doorways. Emergency protocols - no one wants their pet prisoner escaping during the raucous chaos of a blackout. The sensor Jounin know exactly where he is and exactly where he won’t be going.

As if he would while here with Tsunade anyway. The sound however, startles her enough to make her utter a sound, her arms clamping around him even harder. It’s out of character for her, especially at their age.

Out of character or not - how could he deny her? His arms slip around her in turn, and she feels smaller against him that he remembers. Deceptively fragile.

This woman is anything but, at least not physically.

“Remember how we’d used to spend those days at his flat? He’d make that spiced hot chocolate his mother used to fix when we were kids, then try to make us laugh when the storms picked up?”

“If the power went out, he’d get lanterns and a flashlight and make dumb faces…” Her voice is tentative, as if afraid of the words it speaks, the images it conjures. “We’d have to get him to stop.”

“I was never cold when we were together like that.” Orochimaru settles his chin upon her shoulder, solidifying the embrace. It goes unsaid that he’s been cold for decades since.

Neither Jiraiya nor Tsunade ever knew the depth of who and what they'd always been to him, nor why their abandonment of Konoha destroyed an already fraying mind in the end. It took an age for Orochimaru to admit it to himself.

It was why he found his purpose in his work. It was why every attempt at a bond made elsewhere was an ephemeral thing, even when attempted with another who chased immortality.

For his clan, a mating bond, once established, was near impossible to break.

In another life, they might have been a family twined out of three matched souls. But he failed her when it mattered most, and the life lost also cost him any dream of a future. And so he paid a life for a life as he handed Tsunade her brother’s necklace. Eventually Jiraiya paid his own price in turn.

Now she's here in his arms, trembling in the dark with the ghosts of lost loves so near and all Orochimaru wants to do is chase that pain away. Isn't it too late?

It's never too late until you're dead. A jovial baritone echoes in his memory, so close that he could reach out and touch the heat of Jiraiya's presence.

Her lips taste like plum wine and sake, smeared lipstick and leftover spices from her shared meal at the ceremony. Kissing her may be a mistake, and certainly against many rules, but all pretense of good sense is out the window and melted away in the rain.

Good sense is a trifle he will leave the young to pursue; they’ve had their fill. The Densetsu no Sannin are relics of the past, forgotten and stricken from history, but the two that remain now stand reunited in the one place they have left to call their own.

That place has never had walls or a stone foundation. It lies between breaths and heartbeats, in the echoing desperation of Tsunade’s voice in his ear, pleading in nonsensical tongues. It is in the heat of her skin, scarred and soft and perfect as he kisses away the salt of her tears.

He can only see her in shadow and the second subtle glow that his senses lend him, of her chakra, her heat signature, both things that he would know anywhere no matter the surroundings. Her lacquered nails tear at clothing, eager to get to the flesh beneath, and they fall together, side by side on a makeshift bed consisting of her kimono and his discarded haori.

The raucous drumbeat of rain and crashing thunder accompany the rising hunger, the echo of the aching emptiness both seek to fill. What rises between them is not gentle, could never be; much like the storm outside, holding the potential for creation or destruction.

Lightning flashes, illuminating her in all her splendor as Tsunade meets him pleasure for pleasure, and Orochimaru is wholly overcome. Self control gives way to the long lost years of denial, of cravings locked behind steel bars of heartbreak and vengeance.

Decades have passed and she still has the power to render him undone.

He loses himself within the clutch of her body and too quickly, euphoria finds them with a furious violence that borders on pain. It’s nowhere near enough to quell the ache of old wounds torn asunder, the need awakened anew. Hardly a breath is caught between them before they are set to chasing the same high yet again as the storm rages outside, and Jiraiya’s spectre lingers in their hearts, their collective sense memory.

Peace may never be fully within their grasp, but a tenuous comfort is found in the afterglow, where Tsunade drinks down Orochimaru’s every gasping breath. The heat of his touch radiates over her flesh as if he’s marked her for keeps, their bodies still united.

The electricity kicks on and the dim lights flicker to full brightness, revealing the beauty of his form just as she pins him down to rest beneath her. What’s been lost is found again, however inconvenient it may be.

All she knows is that she refuses to let it go. They’ve earned this.

When storms come, they’ll weather them together - as it always should have been.

#orotsu #jiraorotsu #orochimaru #tsunade #naruto #naruto shippuden #my fanfics #hope you enjoyed it!#awintersrose #peepingtoad

58 notes · View notes

ask-the-clergy-bc · 5 years ago

Note

Please could you write some more headcanons for a domestic relationship with the Special Ghoul, I live for your HC's

Always have tons of love for our favorite mysterious dork!

Special Ghoul + Reader Domestic Head Canons

~He goes from periods of being home regularly to going off for days at a time. Special always feels guilty when he’s gone and CAN’T tell you why. His role in the Clergy is VERY important and secretive, and even you, his beloved mate, can’t know what he is up to. But he does his best to make you feel happy when he comes back!

~Special ALWAYS enters your quarters while shouting, “HONEY- I’m HOME!” Every single time, no exceptions. Then follows it with a big hug and KISS! He’s seen it in enough sitcoms so he thinks it’s standard human protocol.

~You and Special get some incredible quarters in the Clergy! It’s so roomy and almost feels like your own apartment. He’s that high ranked of a ghoul where you don’t have to be in the ghoul dorms with the others. Special is very simple, so he leaves the decorating to you. Loves what you do with the place and always smiles. “It looks like a home and not a dungeon!” His favorite thing is the couch you bring in- it’s fluffy and comfortable and perfect for naps!

~The only thing that sticks out as Special’s when it comes to possessions is his record stereo and collection of vinyls. I can’t stress this enough, his Abba collection is second to none. Expect a LOT of Abba playing every time he is home.

~Even if you are a sibling of sin, Special does not like to talk about Clergy matters when you are together- except if it’s something you really want to discuss. He wants your together time to be about you both as individuals- not instruments of the Clergy and His will. This always surprises you, cause you know deep down he is one of the most devout ghouls on Earth.

~Special LOVES to cook with you! If you both have the time he loves when you get to make dinner together. He invested his Clergy earnings and favors into getting his own kitchen and having it well stocked. He tries his best to teach you ghoul recipes with human ingredients. And he always loves to hold you from behind if you are stirring something on the stove. Special’s favorite thing is when you both get to feed each other ingredients.

~Gives the best feet and shoulder rubs this side of Hell. Special is very invested into physical intimacy in the platonic sense. So him helping you unwind makes him feel very nice. He’s very good about getting his thumb in all the right places and making you turn into jelly!

~One of the big things that shocked you was how territorial he can get of you in your living space. Which has been strange, as he is a very passive and joking ghoul. Special does not mind visitors you invite but adamantly refuses anyone just ‘dropping in’! Special admits to you that he just wants to make sure you are protected and that ghoul nests are very, well.. Special. Not saying he would hover over you or make you feel isolated. He just doesn’t trust many of the clergy with your safety....

~You get to hear him sing in the shower every day. He has a decent voice but the weirdest song choices. One time you could have SWORN he was singing Rick Astley!

#the band ghost #reader insert #ghost bc #Ghost headcanon #special ghoul #special #fluff

89 notes · View notes

scifigeneration · 5 years ago

Text

How nine days underwater helps scientists understand what life on a Moon base will be like

by Csilla Ari D`Agostino

Csilla Ari D`Agostino and her teammate carry out experiments outside their undersea habitat. NASA

As NASA prepares to return to the Moon in the next couple of years and possibly even establish bases, it needs a better understanding of how the human body performs in such an inhospitable habitat.

To that end, two astronauts, two researchers (including me) and two technicians participated in a program called NASA Extreme Environment Mission Operation (NEEMO) in which we descended 62 feet below the ocean’s surface this past June, to spend nine days living in a tiny capsule that mimics what life might be like in the tight quarters of a Moon base.

I am a neuroscientist, and our team`s research during this mission focused on assessing how humans react to the high-stress, extreme environment while having a heavy workload. Taken together, these experiments should establish a baseline for how the human body functions in extreme environments. These data should help NASA find ways that astronauts and aquanauts can improve physical and mental performance, while protecting the brain, in both genders during future undersea and deep space exploration missions.

Csilla Ari D`Agostino performing some cognitive tests on the waterproof iPad in front of the Aquarius habitat. Csilla Ari D\`Agostino, CC BY-SA

Laboratory under the sea

So how did I, a neuroscientist specializing in manta ray brains and behavior and diving physiology, become a crew member for NASA’s NEEMO 23 mission? In 2017 I coordinated research projects and was a support diver for a NEEMO project. As NASA prepared for the next mission, it needed to find a nonastronaut crew member with a strong dive background, operational experience from field work and relevant academic background. It turned out that I was a good fit. A couple months after NEEMO 22, to my surprise, NASA invited me to join the NEEMO 23 crew.

The NEEMO mission takes place at the Aquarius Reef Base, located 62 feet below the surface of the Atlantic Ocean in the Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary. It is the world’s only undersea research station that replicates space mission conditions, including the opportunity to experience weightlessness. NASA has been sending teams of “aquanauts” on the NEEMO undersea expeditions to Aquarius Reef Base since 2001, to train astronauts, test space devices and study the physical and psychological toll of living and working in extreme environments.

During NEEMO 23, my crew mates were Samantha Cristoforetti, who holds the record for the longest uninterrupted spaceflight of a European astronaut; Jessica Watkins, NASA astronaut candidate; and Shirley Pomponi, a marine biologist. Two male habitat technicians, Mark Hulsbeck and Tom Horn, were also part of the expedition.

Csilla Ari D`Agostino is performing the first ever underwater electron microscopy experiment inside the Aquarius habitat. Csilla Ari D`Agostino, CC BY-SA

My goal during our mission was to understand psychological changes in crew members in this high-stress environment. For nine days the six of us were isolated from the rest of the world, in a confined space, as we made time-sensitive decisions that had serious consequences.

Our team constantly grappled with technical difficulties and a large workload. We also experienced physical exhaustion that might have affected our performance. Just like space missions, there was no opportunity to return to the surface, and our mistakes or equipment failure could have been fatal.

Underwater science

I studied how stress, team dynamics and workload affected performance. I also explored how strength, dexterity and sensory functions change while living and working in Aquarius. For my research we collected data on our cognitive performance – reaction time, short-term memory, decision-making and risk tolerance – inside the habitat and during extravehicular activities. The purpose of the extravehicular activities is to simulate spacewalks for up to five hours a day.

Csilla Ari D`Agostino gearing up for the extravehicular activities, before entering the water from the habitat. Csilla Ari D\`Agostino, CC BY-SA

At night, I also used a remotely operated vehicle as part of my National Geographic Open Explorer project to monitor the seafloor to find sponge spawning events (when sponges release sperm and eggs so my crew mate could attempt in situ fertilization), collect plankton samples and detect biofluorescent marine organisms that emit light around the habitat.

Our team also focused on sleep quality, changes in inflammation markers in the blood, heart rate, the microbes inside our bodies – also known as the microbiome – and body composition. By the end of the day we quickly fell asleep. We did not even notice that we were underwater.

We also tested a portable scanning electron microscope for the first time underwater, tracking augmented reality devices, simulating a lunar landing and testing a space exercise machine and a lunar evacuation system to transport unconscious astronauts.

For me, the most challenging aspect of this mission was taking stairs with the heavy gear entering the water: The heavy (32 pounds) helmet put a lot of pressure on our neck and back muscles in addition to the 50-60 pounds of dive gear plus 20 pounds of extra weight to simulate the conditions that would be experienced on the Moon.

Difficult moments

The crew in their bunk room going through decompression with a specialized oxygen breathing protocol before returning to the surface. Csilla Ari D\`Agostino, CC BY-SA

The most difficult and memorable moment of this mission occurred when, after some malfunctioning equipment was fixed at the last minute, I was able to finish the experiments during my extravehicular activities shift, crazily collecting samples and performing tests that the team needed. I later heard that my productivity earned me a lot of cheering and jumping around on land at the mission control, which made me really happy.

During our mission we had to adapt quickly to new situations. And we were constantly in problem-solving mode, addressing issues alone, with the help of teammates or with the surface support.

Probably the most dangerous part of the mission was the last 17 hours. We had to go through a strict decompression protocol to remove the nitrogen that accumulated in our bodies while breathing air under high pressure. They slowly reduced the pressure inside the habitat, which created the risk of water entering the habitat; and we were breathing pure oxygen for an hour, which increased the chance of getting seizures from central nervous system oxygen toxicity. Fortunately, we all returned safely.

Now there are a lot of data waiting to be analyzed in the following months. I hope that our team’s effort will improve the safety and efficiency of future space and underwater missions.

About The Author:

Csilla Ari D`Agostino is a Research Assistant Professor of Psychology, at the University of South Florida

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.

#science #psychology #NASA #space exploration

19 notes · View notes

cupidmarwani-archive · 6 years ago

Text

Natural (4/12)

“No. No, I’m telling you, there’s been a mistake. Connor asked me to mark him. I would never, ever do anything to an Omega I wasn’t explicitly asked to, Mrs. Goodwin, you know that,” Will pleads. “Whoever reported this, they lied. I swear, you can even ask him yourself. That isn’t what happened-”

She holds up a hand for him to silence himself.

All Will can think about is why someone would say that, why someone would think he would ever hurt Connor. That’s the last thing he’d ever intend to do, especially when Connor had come to him seeking comfort and safety. Right now, he should be in the ED, taking care of patients and keeping an eye across the room on his coworker, but instead he’s here, wondering if he’s going to be suspended over something he didn’t even do. And Will’s the type of Alpha who believes victims, honestly. But he knows Connor didn’t report this, and that he didn’t do anything wrong.

“I believe you, and not this report. But it is protocol that I investigate. So tell me what happened, and then I’ll interview Dr. Rhodes myself. If you didn’t do anything wrong, you have nothing to worry about. So just sit down and talk to me.”

Will forces himself into a seat, schools his voice as calm as he can manage, and goes through the whole thing from the beginning. Connor coming into the ED and acting strangely, and then how he pulled Will aside for comfort, and asked to be marked. He tells her that Ava had commanded Connor- which she responds to by emailing Dr. Latham- and all he did was try to protect someone he cares about. And he explains how Connor pushed him away at first too, but only because he was already on edge, and that he came right back and then asked to be protected. Will just wants him to be safe.

“Okay. You can wait outside while I talk to Dr. Rhodes.”

He gets out of the chair faster than he could have ever thought, practically throws himself out of the room, and sees Connor standing just outside, leaning against the wall. Ever so slightly, he bares his throat to Will again, dosing him with his scent. It washes over in a wave of serenity, stealing his anxiety as Connor walks in to see Goodwin. They're only in there together for a few minutes before the door swings open and Will sweeps back in to the soundtrack of Connor's shoes on the floor and the slight tug of a capable hand grabbing his lab coat for the second time today. Holding. Clinging. Needing. It pokes at Will's instincts to cradle Connor close to his body and claim him.

"Like I told you, Will, I believed you. The report is clearly a misunderstanding. But in the future, be more careful about public affection, okay?"

"Of course, Mrs. Goodwin," Will says immediately.

Connor only responds by nodding and pressing his face against Will's sleeve. Inhaling slow and deep. Smelling, using it to self-soothe, and that feels like victory. Connor wants him. When they leave her office, they’re still close together and Will can smell himself all over Connor’s body at this close range and he wonders, suddenly, what it would be like to truly lay down with him and bond with him, be given the chance to love him.

He doesn’t say as much, though maybe it’s visible on his face anyways because Connor smiles at him bright and perfect and kisses his shoulder. Something about that gives Will the courage to wrap an arm around Connor properly and keep him close. He has this urge to mark Connor again, to refresh the scent and make it glaringly obvious no matter where in the hospital one is that Connor is claimed and off limits.

But the thing is, Will doesn’t have a claim to him, and this whole thing, it’s just so Connor feels a little safer in light of Bekker having commanded him, which in of itself isn’t that much of a sign of interest. He can only have this today. He has to enjoy it before it’s gone, and takes the offer when Connor leads him into a supply closet and bares his throat again to be marked. Will doesn’t hesitate to take the chance he’s offered. He kisses along his jaw, bites gently once or twice, and then dips his head to rub his cheek against Connor’s stubble. He wants them to smell the same. Wants people to think they’re courting.

Will wants to court him.

He’d never admit it, certainly not to Connor, but he loves the idea of having the privilege to kiss him all the time, buying him dinner, taking care of him the way an Alpha should. Too many people would want Connor to quit his job to become the ideal mate, but Will doesn’t think that way. Connor would be miserable. And he deserves to be able to choose what he wants, to keep working if he wants to instead of being relegated to a human incubator that does the cooking and cleaning. That wouldn’t be Will taking care of his mate, but expecting him to be a servant. Really taking care of him would mean sometimes, Will does the cooking. It would mean cleaning up when Connor is sick or tired or just having a bad day. It would mean tucking him into bed and helping him wash his hair and marking him every morning before work and helping him cook breakfast on Sunday mornings and giving him his everything. People don’t always understand what it really means to care for an Omega. And maybe that’s the only thing Will has that could help him if he really wanted to court Connor.

“Alpha,” Connor whines, and Will jerks back, dropping his grip on Connor’s hips that he didn’t realize he had.

“Connor? Connor, hey, what-”

His nose catches it. A hint of slick. A hint of heat. Not here yet, but close, and clearly brought nearer to the surface. Will takes an instinctive step back and raises his hands like a surrender. If Connor’s close, it means he probably can’t consent to anything, and Will refuses to do anything that he isn’t one hundred percent certain Connor wants. He isn’t that kind of Alpha.

“I’m sorry. It just happens- I’ve been on suppressants for like- for like five years,” Connor says, and his voice is breathy in a way that worms beneath Will’s skin and sparks heat in his cheeks. “Haven’t had a heat since. Sometimes my body just does that, and it’s an instinct- I didn’t mean to say that. I’m sorry."

Will waves a hand dismissively and cups Connor’s cheek. “It’s okay. But five years, Connor…”

“My GP knows. It’s all good. But if this means you don’t wanna mark me today, I get it.”

No, that’s not an issue. It’s the furthest thing from an issue. Will shuts his eyes and inhales deeply, savors the crisp scent of Connor’s slick, even if it feels a little empty without arousal to back it and give weight to what it could mean. There’s nothing real here, Will reminds himself.

“It’s not your fault. Just maybe take a few minutes before you come back to work?”

Connor nods, and they separate a little more as they leave the closet. His scent is cloying, heavy, almost too intense where it burns in Will’s usually under-sensitive nose. Being able to smell this so strongly feels like a miracle.

“Take my jacket home,” Will says, before he can stop himself. “My shift is a couple hours longer, but this way, you’ll be good for tomorrow. If you want that, of course.”

“I’d love that.”

He lifts up on his toes just enough to kiss Will’s cheek and breaks away to go wash his hands and wipe himself down a little so he can go back to work, while Will just heads straight back to check on his patients and look at their results. In truth, his job barely touches his thoughts when he can still see and smell Connor for the majority of the day. He sees him getting ready to leave, holding Will’s jacket to his face, and feels warm inside and secure when he turns his full attention to a woman riding in on a gurney out of an ambulance.

By the time his own shift is over and Will goes to the doctor’s lounge, he sees his jacket crumpled on the table. He picks it up like a fragment of glass, like it’ll hurt him, and lifts it to his face. It smells like Connor, but the scent is stale. Something’s wrong.

Or, his brain supplies snidely, Connor never wanted the jacket in the first place and he didn’t want to openly tell Will no. Although he doesn’t want to believe it, Will winds up cramming the jacket back into his locker before he goes home feeling empty.

#naturalfic #fic #mine

15 notes · View notes

stargate365 · 6 years ago

Text

[SGU] 1.03: Air (3/3)

Rock hunting!

Oh... there’s new symbols on the Stargate. Dots like morse code

Desert road trip!!

Oh dear, Mrs Armstrong is having a meltdown

I bet that was coolaid in the phial.

Dust devil.

Oh snap. What’s with the dust devil?

Haha. You thought it was a painkiller and she knocked you out. Sucks to be you.

Yaaas.

Tamara is snark Queen and I’m gonna marry her.

Famous last words “I’m fine”

Oh jeez. No. Bad idiots. You’re morons and gonna die.

Eli is probably gonna be the only one to live.

What do you mean the remote is the only safe way to get home? #panic

It’s the dust devil again...

Maybe it wants his water?

Oh fuck that was creepy

Wtf was that?

He has found... more sand

I’m a deaeer

Wow

And he’s being followed by a ghost

Maybe it’s an ascended dude

Or not?

“I have a gun”

Mate you’re wearing black in a desert no wonder you’re dying.

The more I think about it the more I think the dust devil is alive..

Yup

It found the lake

Go strange alien dust devil!!

Whooo!

Cmon bro you can do this!!

Go team go!

Countdown 059

Cmon bro!

Safety protocol ftw!

Hold up... what was that? Did a capsule just leave?

#day 329 #sgu #stargate #stargate universe #1x03 #sgu 1x03 #air #sgu: air #stargate 365+1 #gif: wishfulwhumping

9 notes · View notes

capricxs · 6 years ago

Note

“You’ll always be safe with me.” for matthew & victoria!!!! 💘

“matthew!” there’s a pounding on his door which springs him from his sleep. launching himself from the bed after hearing his name called more times, he hears the urgency in the tone of the princess on the other side of the door. not bothering to get himself ready, he launches to the door, swinging it open and looking around intensely, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“what’s wrong?” he looks down at her, grabbing onto her shoulder.

her face frozen, now looking over his figure. he didn’t bother to put on pants. or a shirt, really. he’s just roll out of bed to make sure she wasn’t in danger.

“you’re late, i was worried.” she chokes out, bringing her eyes up to meet his.

he lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in. “so you’re… fine?” he asks slowly, making sure he understood correctly.

“yeah i’m alright.” she nods, clasping her hands together and standing there rather uncomfortably.

“you scared me.” he slumps.

“you scared me.” she shakes her head. “it’s ten-thirty.”

“what?” he blinks, only to let out a heavy sigh. “i supposed.” he reaches up to rub his eye. “it took me a long time to fall asleep.”

“hm,” she hums thoughtfully.

matthew just turns around, flicking on a lamp and reaching to grab a pair of his plants, sliding them on and going for the rest of his clothes.

“was it… a bad night?” she asks carefully, stepping into his room while he shuffles around to get ready quickly.

“you could say that.” his tone is casual, as always, even if it’s talking about the hard things.

“how are you now?” she leans against the table, looking up now and then to watch him, slipping his bullet proof vest over his chest, and sliding into his shirt, covering the body that was previously just presented to her.

“well i’m late. that’s how i am.” he grabs his holster, sliding his arms through and adjusting it properly. he grabs his jacket, and the proper gear. he slides on the ear piece and turns it on. he turns to look at her, and her casual presentation. she looks a bit more delicate today than she does other days. maybe it’s the dress. it’s a bit daintier than what she wears, but he likes it. “would you mind waiting here?”

“what? why?” she furrows her brows. “you’re not ready?”

“i have to get something.”

“and you just had to demand i not come? now i want to.”

“well let’s pretend i didn’t say anything and i just walk out.”

“no, what’s so important.”

“i’ll say it, it’ll sound dumb, and you’ll make it a thing.” he rolls his eyes.

“well then let’s not make it a thing.” she pauses, “matthew, you’re always trying to protect me from things but you can’t do that with everything.”

he just doesn’t respond. instead, he walks from the room, going down the hall to enter another room where a guard stands. “hey,” he smiles, taking his id from his inside breast pocket. they’re worked together for months but matthew feels weird out of protocol.

the guard nods, reaching into the case to pull out the pistol and two magazines. matthew takes them in hand. before the guard, he checks everything. checks to make sure it’s not loaded, that it isn’t cocked, that nothing is out of the normal. the safety is on, the magazines are in tact. everything is where it needs to be. “thanks, mate.” he says quietly. sliding the magazines into his holster slowly. the gun is handled with care, his fingers slipping over the metal until it’s clicked back into it’s case.

he turns around, seeing victoria leaning in the doorway. he walks past her, going back to his room. “what was so wrong with that?”

“i don’t like you seeing those things.”

“i’m not a child.”

“i never said you were.”

“then why does it matter?”

matthew stops inside his room, turning abruptly to see victoria in front of him. his arms reaches behind her to shut the door, leaving them in close proximity. “it’s not you, victoria. i know you can handle it. i just don’t want you to see it.”

“well why not?” she huffs.

he rolls his eyes, raising his arms in a shrug.

“you know. don’t play that shit with me, matthew.” her eyebrows knit together and he knows she’s beyond annoyed with him.

“because it’s scary to me.” he says carefully. his teeth clench and he looks at his feet, letting out a sigh. “i’m good at this job but this person inside me that comes out during these things i’m not… too proud of. i never want you to see me differently because of that person. because of those things.”

“matthew, i’ll never—” he cuts her off before she can finish.

“there’s going to be a day when i use this on someone, to save your life, and i’m terrified of what that might mean. of how you’ll look at me.” his lips purse, and he keeps his eyes down. he’s suddenly very aware of the feeling of the gun against his ribcage. “you’re always safe with me. that’s never in question. i just–… i don’t want you to see me as that person. that’s what i want to protect you from.”

she doesn’t reply for a while. he knows that he’s right. she’s a smart girl and a tough cookie, and he knows that if he kills on her behalf, that could change things. he’d never want to. but if it came down to saving her life, there wouldn’t be a single hesitation.

“i’m sorry that scares you matthew.” she finally says, quietly. she reaches a hand forward to press to his shoulder. “but you’re safe with me too, from that person. as much as i can help it.”

he knows that she’s trying her best. she’s doing what she can to make him feel better about this thing that worries him nearly every day. that fact flatters him, but it doesn’t quite get the job done in the way she might want. “thanks.” he forces a smile, taking her hand from his shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze. “we need to get moving though.”

“yeah,” she says quietly.

he reaches past her again, opening the door to let her out.

#mazerparchive #* otp: matthew & victoria.#¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯

1 note · View note

orbemnews · 4 years ago

Link

These Companies Thrived as Others Struggled to Survive Small companies had been devastated in 2020. They’ve pivoted so ceaselessly to take care of state-mandated shutdowns, new buyer wants and pandemic security protocols that many aren’t positive what route they’re going through anymore. 9 months into the coronavirus disaster, greater than 1 / 4 stay closed, not less than quickly, in accordance with information from Alternative Insights, a analysis group at Harvard College. However for some industries, it has been a banner 12 months. Small-business house owners serving clients who’re trapped at dwelling, buying on-line and looking for out of doors adventures have tallied report gross sales. Success throughout a disaster might be uncomfortable. “I can’t say sufficient that it’s bittersweet,” mentioned Sunshine Foss, the proprietor of Blissful Cork, a Brooklyn wine store whose gross sales soared as different companies in her neighborhood closed down. Listed here are 5 small companies that beat the pandemic odds and are thriving — and even hiring — as they transfer into 2021. When Ms. Foss and her husband, Remo, opened their wine retailer in March 2019 on a evenly trafficked aspect avenue within the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, hours would generally go and not using a sale. “We might stand on the road and beg individuals to come back in and check out our stuff,” she mentioned. The pandemic modified that. As the town locked down within the spring, clients streamed in for wine by the bottle and by the case. In April, gross sales doubled. Gross sales jumped once more in the summertime: As protests over police brutality and systemic racism rocked the town and nation, demand for merchandise from Black-owned companies — Blissful Cork’s specialty — elevated. “I couldn’t hold Black Lady Magic on the cabinets,” Ms. Foss mentioned, referring to a California wine assortment created by two sisters. “I’m so glad now that there’s big buyer demand, however it’s bittersweet that it took all of this to get consideration on these manufacturers.” Esrever Wines, a label created by three longtime mates from Queens, has been one of many beneficiaries. The pandemic sophisticated manufacturing for the corporate, as a result of the California vineyard that produces its blends is brief on employees, however demand has soared and Blissful Cork is among the many enterprise’s prime retail places, mentioned Tyshemia Ladson, one in all Esrever’s founders. A mortgage of $1,875 from the federal Paycheck Safety Program helped the store via the pandemic’s early days. Ms. Foss doubled her employees this 12 months, to eight staff, and he or she has been fortunately stunned to have customers from all around the nation stopping by, usually drawn in by her prolific social media posts. Her enterprise has now blown previous the gross sales projections she mapped out when it opened. “A whole lot of shops that open in our neighborhoods have bulletproof glass; you’ll be able to’t contact the bottles,” Ms. Foss mentioned. “I wished one thing that was an intimate buying expertise; I wished the shop to odor actually good and look actually fairly and be comfy. Now we have pricing that works for everybody. You may get an important bottle for $8 from a model you’d by no means have identified about.” San Diego Plastics fabricator The telephones at ePlastics began ringing nonstop in late March with calls from clients looking for masks, plexiglass dividers and different protecting gadgets. The deluge hasn’t let up. “No one was ready for this,” mentioned John Quick, the overall supervisor of the 106-year-old plastics manufacturing enterprise. “Everybody was typing into Google search phrases for ‘limitations’ and ‘shields,’ and we bought calls from all around the world.” EPlastics needed to shut its retail showroom, which shares plastic merchandise starting from constructing provides to wine glasses, for a couple of month because it navigated California’s shutdown guidelines and found out find out how to shield its staff. In its workshop, although, fabrication continued practically across the clock. Sourcing uncooked supplies like acrylic and polycarbonate sheets was a continuing problem, Mr. Quick mentioned, due to international supply-chain disruptions. Gross sales had been 30 % greater this 12 months than in any earlier 12 months, and the corporate’s 52 staff put in loads of time beyond regulation to maintain up with demand, Mr. Quick mentioned. It has churned out greater than 10,000 plastic limitations this 12 months. EPlastics devised some in style new merchandise of its personal, like a conveyable barrier for outlets that cashiers can go cash via and a plastic field with holes that medical doctors can place over sufferers’ heads to cut back air trade. However a lot of its work went into {custom} initiatives for shoppers together with hospitals, universities, banks, and retailers like supermarkets and liquor shops. The Navy has been an enormous buyer, shopping for dividers for the meal halls on its ships. Mr. Quick was significantly delighted that ePlastics performed a job within the coronavirus aid efforts of the Nationwide Aeronautics and House Administration. NASA’s Robotics Alliance Challenge, which sponsors competitions for prime schoolers, had its scientists crew up with college students to design and produce face shields utilizing polycarbonate sheets from ePlastics. The shields are being bought on-line and donated to medical professionals. “We had been discovering little 4-by-8 items of plastic throughout the nation, however it was actually exhausting for the machines to digest these,” mentioned Lucien Junkin, a NASA robotics engineer. “EPlastics had one in all their suppliers make a bunch of 750-foot rolls that the machine might simply gobble up. Then we had been spitting out 1000’s of face shields left and proper.” Charleston, S.C. E-commerce firm Katie and Wes Lyon, together with their faculty pal and enterprise associate, Max Berry, stop their company jobs in March to work full time at their start-up, promoting American-made American flags. Enterprise & Economic system Up to date Dec. 23, 2020, 8:59 a.m. ET “We’ve seen exponential progress this 12 months,” Mr. Berry mentioned. How a lot progress? “It’s not a quantity anybody believes once we say it, it’s so loopy,” Ms. Lyon mentioned. She paused earlier than answering: “4,000 %.” A 12 months earlier, they weren’t positive their e-commerce enterprise would fly. They began the corporate in late 2018 to “crickets,” Mr. Berry mentioned. “We’re not a type of firms that turned our web site on and orders flowed in.” He and the Lyons initially thought handmade American flags sewn by American staff utilizing supplies sourced in America can be a straightforward promote. That’s what that they had personally seemed for, and couldn’t discover. “We had two choices: We might purchase it on Amazon or from a big-box retailer,” Mr. Lyon mentioned. “And both it was imported from China — which is ridiculous to us — or, if it was made domestically, it’s mass produced with low cost supplies.” They got down to create a greater flag and located a manufacturing home in South Carolina that might make their star-spangled banners. However then … the crickets. It took them practically a 12 months to learn to successfully goal clients with digital adverts. They realized they couldn’t simply promote an American flag; they wanted to spotlight its high quality and their American-made beliefs. They adjusted their digital promoting simply earlier than the pandemic — fortuitous timing that helped them journey the coronavirus e-commerce increase. “I believe it was as a result of individuals had been spending extra time at dwelling and taking good care of their dwelling,” Ms. Lyon mentioned. “That blended with an enormous American pleasure, that we’re all on this collectively, we’ve a accountability to maintain one another secure, as Individuals.” They anticipated a pre-election surge as effectively, however October turned out to be their slowest month of progress. Heavy spending by political campaigns crowded the corporate out of the digital channels it depends on. “We had been combating political adverts which have thousands and thousands to spend,” Ms. Lyon mentioned. “It was a tough month for direct-to-consumer companies.” Allegiance employs 4 staff at a distribution middle and contracts 20 stitchers in Georgia and South Carolina to stitch the flags, which begin at $50 for a 12-by-18-inch flag. “I find it irresistible,” mentioned Cindy Packard, who started stitching Allegiance flags in April. “Typically whenever you’re a seamstress, it’s form of bland. However I really like the colours. And I really feel patriotic. Each time you inform somebody you’re making flags, they need to ask you about it.” Chattanooga, Tenn. Bicycle producer When the pandemic took maintain in late March, gross sales at Peter Hurley’s high-end bicycle enterprise collapsed. Mr. Hurley furloughed staff whereas his administration crew developed security protocols and tried to adapt. However the pause turned out to be temporary: A month later, after reconfiguring the manufacturing facility ground and turning convention rooms into manufacturing area, the corporate resumed manufacturing. A $409,000 mortgage in April from the Paycheck Safety Program helped flip the tide. Mr. Hurley used the money to carry again and pay his staff, which freed up income to extend the direct-sales retailer’s on-line advertising. By Could, orders had been choosing up, and a sustained increase started in June. The corporate’s gross sales sometimes peak by July after which taper off; this 12 months, the autumn lull didn’t occur. The corporate now has 67 staff — 30 greater than earlier than the pandemic — and its highest income since Mr. Hurley purchased the enterprise 13 years in the past. American Bicycle Group focuses on custom-built street, path and triathlon bikes that begin round $2,500; Mr. Hurley attributes the gross sales spike to clients spending extra time outdoor and to passionate riders deciding it was time for an improve. Daniel Medina Díaz, a triathlete who lives in Benton Harbor, Mich., had been coveting a motorcycle from the corporate’s Quintana Roo line since he encountered the model eventually 12 months’s U.S.A. Triathlon Nationwide Championship. A Labor Day sale lastly knocked the value down sufficient for him to make the leap. “I really like the feel of the carbon fiber, and the best way they paint the bikes to appear to be a racecar,” mentioned Mr. Medina Díaz, who hopes to debut his new bike at a race in Tempe, Ariz., in April. Mr. Hurley is ready to see if this 12 months’s gross sales increase will final. “Is that this the brand new regular? I’ve provided that quite a lot of thought, and I actually do not know,” he mentioned. Austin, Texas Building and design firm Dolores Guerrero Davis walks into her workplace every morning and appears on the oversize whiteboard that maps out her firm’s pipeline of initiatives. “My mind simply explodes,” she mentioned. “It’s a lot work.” That isn’t what Ms. Davis anticipated. Even earlier than the pandemic, nationwide indicators warned that the reworking enterprise was anticipated to sluggish in 2020. So when Austin closed nonessential companies in March, she ready for exhausting instances. She bought a $641,000 mortgage from the Paycheck Safety Program, which ensured that CG&S — began by her dad and mom in 1957 — stayed open and that none of its 35 staff had been laid off. Then the surprising occurred: Owners in Austin and throughout the nation realized their houses wanted an replace, pushing building corporations into overdrive. CG&S acquired a surge of inquiries, significantly for its design providers. They usually weren’t from dreamers: Prospects had been prepared to put out money. “I believe everyone seems to be spending time at dwelling and recognizing that their area doesn’t work,” Ms. Davis mentioned. “The youngsters have been dwelling from college since March in our market, and I believe it bought individuals eager about their houses and the way they perform.” Immediately, CG&S has twice as a lot design enterprise because it ever had, and lots of of its shoppers are hiring the corporate’s building crews. Ms. Davis, who owns the enterprise along with her husband, Stewart, employed a number of new designers and two extra mission managers. For Matt and Denise Chumlea, the timing was lastly proper to redo the kitchen of their Forties bungalow. That they had transformed the remainder of the home, however had been laying aside the expense of their dream kitchen, with a 300-bottle wine cellar, high-end home equipment, a mud room and extra. When Ms. Chumlea discovered she was pregnant, they thought of making simply upgrades — then determined to go large. “If we’re in for a penny, let’s be pregnant in Covid and do an enormous kitchen rework on the identical time,” Mr. Chumlea mentioned. They discovered CG&S via an indication Ms. Chumlea noticed in a neighbor’s yard. “They had been capable of take my concepts, the imaginative and prescient in my head, and simply carry them out,” Mr. Chumlea mentioned. Building is anticipated to wrap up in February, simply in time for the brand new child to come back dwelling. Supply hyperlink #businesses #struggled #Survive #Thrived

1 note · View note

msclaritea · 4 years ago

Link

This is a strong, hardworking, brilliant woman. I watched the primaries very closely. What did I see?

Media attacking her for being a strong debater. She did not ATTACK Biden, she confronted him and practically handed him a golden opportunity to re-think his position on certain subjects.

The media erasing her blatantly from ads and mentions when talking about the candidates. The reporter Cilliza, embedded in her campaign ran non-stop attacks on Kamala.

Seeing full inclusiveness from her camp and the places she went, in opposition to needing shades on from the blinding white of the places certain other candidates went.

ADOS injecting Colorism into the public discourse by demanding we draw a distinction between Black people born here vs Jamaica. All anyone has to do is research how black slaves…WHO CAME FROM AFRICA…were treated on Rum plantations to know this argument is bullshit. (Note, it is a known fact ADOS was backed by white supremacists.)

The attacks from hard left, especially all those Champagne Socialists, calling her a cop. Maybe so, but look closer at her record. Her biggest targets were those who commit violent crime, and most importantly, SEX TRAFFICKERS.

I empathize, minutely with white women who want to be salty about not reaching this position first, but that chance presented itself in 2016, and we were handed 45 instead. It just seems to me, so many women just don’t like other women. Also, assuming she runs in 2024, there is no reason to believe she would not pick a white woman as HER running mate.

She is a black/Indian American woman who cares. Who when still running California, went personally around to LGBTQ clubs and strip clubs, to personally make sure they were adhering to fire safety protocols. Ironically, many of the Progressive black prosecutors we have now, who keep being complimented were inspired by Harris and her early policies.

For the hard left, who basically share some of the same ideology as the GOP, a lot of whom are actually young republicans, adamant on Abolish Police instead of Reform, others should look into the future and consider this: Some states, financially depleted having to turn to corporations to fund their precincts even more. Exactly what happened to sports fields across the country decades ago. Cities could not keep up with costs, corporations took over, prices went up. We all see what an unstable government TRULY looks like now. Still a good idea?

Right now, we keep losing women in crucial positions because various levels of spite, jealousy and personal money interests hold them back. News just reported over 30 women in Health and Safety positions across the country were threatened out of the jobs just when we needed them there, most.

STOP LETTING MEN PULL THE STRINGS AND TALK YOU OUT OF SMART CHOICES. Some in Hollywood are trying to block her. I don’t trust Hollywood right now. They have a huge Human and Sex trafficking problem. People deserve to be safe. CHILDREN deserve to be safe.

Do your own research. Below are excerpts from the Kamala Harris wiki page.

Contents

1Early life and education

2Early career (1990–2004)

3District Attorney of San Francisco (2004–2011)

4Attorney General of California (2011–2017)

5U.S. Senate (2017–present)

62020 presidential campaign

7Political positions

8Electoral history

9Awards and honors

10Personal life

11Publications

2.12003 Campaign for District Attorney

3.1Public safety

3.2Reform efforts

3.1.1Felony conviction rate

3.1.2Non-violent crimes

3.1.3Violent crimes

3.2.1Recidivism and re-entry initiative

3.2.2Death penalty

3.2.3Truancy initiative

4.12010 election

4.22014 election

4.3Significant cases and policies

4.4Criminal justice reform

4.5Consumer protection

4.6Public safety

4.7Obama appointment speculation

4.3.1Anti-truancy efforts

4.3.2Law enforcement accountability

4.3.3LGBTQ rights

4.4.1Launch of Division of Recidivism Reduction and Re-Entry

4.4.2Sentencing and prison inmate retention

4.4.3Death penalty

4.5.1Fraud, waste, and abuse

4.5.2Privacy rights

4.6.1Environmental protection

4.6.2Law enforcement improvements

4.6.3Sex crimes

4.6.4Transnational criminal organizations

5.12016 election

5.22017

5.32018

5.42019

5.52020

5.6Committee assignments

5.7Caucus memberships

6.1Speculation as Joe Biden’s running mate

#Kamala Harris #VP pick #2020 #Stop being afraid of strong black women #Smear a woman today and live in fear of BEING a smeared woman tomorrow #This is someone you can work with #Shut up about Biden if you were one of those who ignored Harris #Occupy The Process #That is what she does #I thought that was a good thing?

0 notes

ask-de-writer · 7 years ago

Text

NIGHTMARE NIGHT LESSON : MLP Fan Fiction : Tales to Read AFTER the Lights are OUT!

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

Return to Tales to Read AFTER the Lights are OUT!

NIGHTMARE NIGHT LESSON

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

2871 words

Writing begun 10/19/17

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

The palomino waitress, Peanut Brittle, called, “Um, Boss!! They are back! They are roosting on all the stronger branches of our hedges and up on the roof, too!”

Caramel Treat called back from the kitchen of her restaurant, Caramel Treat's Sweets, “I know, Peanut! They are a little early, that's all! I set out some meat for them in the back dining area!

“Don't worry about the vultures! They are behaving, just like Roe promised that they would! He says that the bats will be right on time!”

Peanut Brittle looked up at the big vultures roosting all around the outdoor dining plaza of Caramel Treat's Sweets. They were looking right back at her, except for the ones that were staring at the customers. And licking their beaks in anticipation!

The customers were clearly enjoying the bizarre show! Caramel Treat's Sweets was known all over Equestria and the many lands beyond for being a place for superb food and for their unique Nightmare Night Celebrations! Those presently dining were happily accepting the big black carrion birds as a part of this year's celebration.

After all, Peanut had already dyed her fur green and was wearing her traditional witch costume as she took orders. Several goats disguised as small “Demons of the Underworld” lounged about, holding tridents or other instruments.

She glanced up at the big black birds and muttered to herself, “Only one more full day and it will be Nightmare Night!

“Caramel sure is keeping it close to her chest about who her secret Guest of Honor is!”

Caramel, whose extremely sharp werewolf's senses allowed her to hear the comment, replied, “That is because I have pulled off one of the best ones yet! I don't want anypony trying to pull her away from our celebration! I have special decorations ordered from Bleater's Hallow, too. Those should arrive later today in a closed van.”

Shrugging, Peanut went back to taking orders.

Shortly she was joined by Fangrin, Caramel's mate, in his pony form. He was gray all over. His mane and tail were the same gray but darker.

He confided, “Caramel has not told me, either. I do have a guess. I saw the drawings for the dining area decorations. More like a stage set, really. There will be a dark throne at the center of it all.”

Almost instantly, Romaine, roving reporter for the Ponyville Prancer, and usually having light green fur with a darker green mane and tail, was there. As part of the Caramel Treat's Sweets Nightmare Night staff, she was glamored to resemble a somewhat skeletal dark colored thestral.

She pointed out, “I have been with Caramel's Nightmare Night celebrations since the beginning. May I quote you about the dark throne? You know that I will not reveal anything without clearing it with Caramel first.”

Fangrin nodded thoughtfully. “You may quote me on that but you must keep this whole thing secret until Caramel releases it, OK?”

“I promise it,” Romaine replied. “Will there be a Dark Court to go with the Dark Throne?”

Fangrin snickered a bit as he said, “Yes, there will be!”

Further exchange was stopped by the arrival of a large delivery van pulled by six goats. Their leader, a plain tan color, unhitched and trotted over to Fangrin.

“Pardon, Sir. We have the decorations and set for the restaurant's Nightmare Night. What shall we do with it?”

Caramel was out from the kitchen at once! She was in her pony form too. She conferred with the goat's leader and one of the pulling crew. They were going over the set diagram.

“The tables will be reset like so. Keep the throne shrouded until our guest arrives. We need to work around our dining guests. Got it?”

The goat leader nodded, “Got it!” Turning to his crew, he called, “Put the van's loading ramp down! We are starting the set up now! Don't do anything to disturb the diners. We just have to work around them.”

Van doors were opened and a stout ramp secured. The industrious goats began to unload many pieces and fabric curtains. As the set began to take shape, it was clear that it was looking very like a large, dark, bare stonework, castle room.

Last, the goats wrestled out a large object shrouded in black cloth. They set it up with care on a stage-like dais at the back of the room. In front of the dais, they set up Caramel's traditional cracked cauldron, supported on chains from a stout tripod.

The vultures had waited on the roof until all was ready. They swooped about and found perches on ledges and rods provided for their use. The dark birds stared out to the various games and tables, suggestively licking their beaks!

All was in readiness for the big day and night tomorrow! The van was now stored behind Caramel's restaurant.

It was late, almost closing time when Caramel's secret guest of honor arrived.

The call came from above! “Make way! Royal Guard landing!”

A flight of six Royal Armored Pegassi in the livery of Princess Luna landed in the street in front of Caramel Treat's! They were in an open Vee formation, with the open side facing the now decorated restaurant! Princess Luna landed lightly in the center of their formation and paced forward, into Caramel's shop! Her Guard followed, breaking formation to enter through the tables across the front of the outdoor dining area and reforming as soon as they were clear of them.

It was a most impressive display of marching skill. Luna turned to them and smiled. “My good Guards, you are now released to recreation as you see fit. You have served me well on the night flight to this place.

“I know that you have deep and honest concerns about my safety. I am as well guarded here as I could be. This event is being watched over by two Werewolves, Grumpter Goat, and the Litch King himself.

“If I may be so bold as to recommend it, the food here at Caramel Treat's is some of the finest to be found in the whole kingdom. And whatever you get will be paid by Royal Largess. The Lovely Witch pony here, is waiting to take your orders.”

Caramel and Fangrin came out and managed good courtly bows, in spite of being in their wolf forms. They chorused, “Welcome to Caramel Treat's Nightmare, oh, Ruler of the Dream.”

The three disappeared into the restaurant proper.

Watching them go, one of the Guard spoke to Captain Lightning, “It still makes me nervous when the Princess just takes off like that with commoners.”

The Captain, relaxing at a table and examining the menu, replied, “It used to bother me too, Baron. The worst risks that she has ever faced mostly came from the nobility. Most of those were Counts or Dukes. When she is among the Rom or supernatural beings, I really worry less. They are VERY careful to protect both Princesses.”

“I understand that, Captain. I am worried about all of the common ponies that she will be around with this Nightmare Night thing.”

The Captain turned to Peanut and requested, “The Clover Steak with Sea Grass Puffs, please. The Honeyed Cider sounds perfect to go with it. Thank you.”

Returning his attention to the Baron, he pointed out, “Among those watching her, this visit is the Litch King. A being who can not be dodged or avoided. One who can stop any attack by simply saying Drop Dead! And make it stick!”

Sitting to the table, the worried Baron said, “I see. Sort of like last Nightmare Night, when we went to that realm of monsters that Princess Luna said was on the edge of Nightmare. She controls more than is apparent.”

“Precisely. I understand that the security arrangements for this event make Palace Security look like foals playing with rag dollies.”

The Baron looked about the place and commented, “Perhaps, but I see no sign of it.” He paused thoughtfully for a few moments before adding, “It could be that it is so good that we do not see it.”

Back in the kitchen, Luna was delightedly cooking up the dinner orders as they came in. “This is so much fun, Caramel! This short order cooking is so different from banquet or snack cooking! Let's see, this scramble will be fast, so I start it last . . .”

The two big Everfree Ridgeback Wolves watched tolerantly while Princess Luna took over their kitchen. Caramel confided to Fangrin, “This was her price. Uninterrupted cooking except when she is being part of our Nightmare Night Staff.”

Romaine quietly entered the kitchen and politely asked, “Your Highness, is it OK for me to get pictures of you cooking? They will be part of my annual Caramel Treat's Nightmare Night story for the Ponyville Prancer. I already got pictures of your arrival with the Guard.”

Princess Luna looked up from her cooking to exclaim, “Romaine! I haven't seen you since we made that book deal to clobber the so-called Celestian Church! Of course you can! That is a blanket permission for the whole event!”

Caramel grinned, “You have the scoop, Romaine! You know where the Magic Net mirror is! Call it in and send your pictures! We managed to keep this visit secret even from Luna's Protocol Ponies!”

With a final few pictures, Romaine nearly flew to the Magic Net mirror to call in her story and pictures!

The next morning, just after staff breakfast, the vultures all took to the air, forming a swirling cone of birds of ill omen, centered on Caramel Treat's!

Looking out through spy holes in the set, the staff saw a long line already formed! Out front, a news pony was hawking the Ponyville Prancer's morning edition!

“Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Princess Luna has come to Caramel Treat's Nightmare Night Celebration!”

Caramel turned to Princess Luna and suggested, “Let's not keep them waiting, your Highness!”

Taking that as a cue, two of the goats pulled the cover off the object on the dais, revealing The NIGHTMARE THRONE. Luna actually drew a breath of surprise.

“That is a very good copy of my Nightmare Throne in the Fortress of Nightmare!”

One of the goats smiled at her. “We had to work from our folklore! I am glad that we got it done so well!”

The glamored goats, appearing to be twisted creatures of Nightmare, stepped forward on the set and began to beat the start of a Processional on deeply resonant kettle drums. The doors of the set opened impressively. Caramel and Fangrin stepped out and went each to one side of the doors. In full view of every pony waiting, they transformed into their monster sized Wolf forms.

Luna's Guard stepped out by twos, glamored as thestrals. They formed up before the throne and split to two ranks, one flanking each side of the throne.

Trumpets blew a fanfare while the deep drums kept their part of the processional going. Princess Luna stepped forth, glamored to a Nightmare Alicorn. She was all jet black, fur, mane and tail, her eyes glowing red coals, stark yellowed fangs in her jaws and small curls of flame were arising from her nostrils!

She paced forward faced the crowd and blew out flare of fire. The Nightmare then ascended to the Throne of Nightmare.

She called, “Prepare the Cauldron of Fate!”

The Cauldron was brought forth by a skeletal Alicorn, a witch pony and a Goat skull with fangs, glowing eyes and a candle burning between its horns. The goat's body was invisible but clearly supporting his leg of the cauldron's tripod.

They set it up some meters in front of the throne. The witch touched it with her wand and mist began to arise and boil over the lip and some out through a prominent crack in the side of it.

The big black gryphon, her flight feathers outlined in stark red and her eyebrows picked out in it too, admitted the foals and their escorts in groups of five. Each “trial” game was set up for five to do at once.

She whispered to one foal who was looking worried, “The Nightmare does not expect you to be perfect. If you try at each game, that is enough.”

Soon the area was an orderly madhouse of foals trying their luck at the games before “Advancing” to the Cauldron of Fate! There, they chanted “Nightmare Night! What a fright! Give me something sweet to bite!”

Plunging eager hooves into the famous Foal Bowl cauldron, they brought out treats for their loot bags!

Besides taking photos of the unfolding event, Romaine had a sign up.

Your picture with the Nightmare!

Only ONE Silver, rolled in a tube

Only TWO Silver, framed!

All proceeds go to the Widows and Orphans Fund to feed and house the needy. All donations will be matched from Royal Largess.

In spite of the fairly steep price, there were many lined up to get their pictures made! As he brought out a new stack of frames, one of the glamored goats commented, “It is good thing that when we heard about the photo thing, we brought our frame shop along in the van with the set! You are keeping us hopping!”

It was approaching noon when a goat, glamored as a creature of the underworld, began pushing a cart down the line waiting to get in. He had small cheap snacks and an order book. For those who wanted more than the snacks, he took orders and gave out numbers.

Soon a second cart came down the line, delivering the ordered meals. And more snacks, of course!

Princess Luna was having a ball, hamming it up for the many photos of her and foals! A favorite pose was her possessively gripping a costumed foal and making a threatening blast of flame. Since the flame was a carefully designed glamor, it was totally harmless but delighted the foals!

As evening came on, big cressets on either side of the throne lit up with flaring flames of blue, yellow and green! Again, like her flaming breath, it was carefully designed glamors, totally harmless but a lot of fun!

Among the new evening glamors that Grumpy was managing for Caramel and Fangrin was causing the whole set and cast to glow in a spectral and ghastly pale blue.

Oohs and aahs of appreciation for the effect arose from the line. The bats made their scheduled appearance, fluttering all about the set! The glow and the cressets were drawing in tasty moths and the little guys were having a field day!

The well fed vultures were happily perched where they could look menacing and enjoying the whole show!

A pegasus in full Royal Court attire fluttered down, landing self importantly in the midst of the set! Without preamble, he demanded, “YOUR HIGHNESS!! It was most difficult to find you! Your presence is REQUIRED in Canterlot, immediately! You must stop this foolishness with these commoners at once and come with me!”

He was moving to block the next foal in line for a picture as he spoke.

Princess Luna's pale midnight magic, shot through with stars, reached out and slapped him from his feet! It gently picked up the filly in her Princess Celestia costume and brought her to the dais.

Ignoring the outcries of the outraged Count, she asked softly, “How would you like your picture to be made?”

The filly thought for only a second. “I'd like one of those vultures perching on my right wing and a couple of the bats on my left! Want to be sort of rearing like Celestia facing down the Nightmare! Can we do that?”

For answer, a smiling Nightmare brought a vulture from its perch and herded a pair of bats to the filly's wings. She helped them all to be rearing and looking menacing towards her. She reared in her own turn and held them all posed with her magic while Romaine got the picture!

While waiting to have it framed, the filly pointed to the fallen count and asked, “Isn't he awfully important?”

Luna gave her a hug as she replied, “He certainly seems to think so. The answer is that he is wrong. You, your dad and mom, and all of the other so called common folk of Equestria are who is really important.

“All of his wealth and position rests on the work of all of you. You are all the foundation upon which the house of the nobility rests. Without the foundation, the house would collapse.

“It works the other way too, dear. A foundation with no building is but useless stones. Together, they form a whole building. But never forget this. It rests on the solid foundation that is all of you.

“That is why I am here. I honor the solid foundation of all of Equestria.”

Admiring her framed picture, the filly replied, “Wow! I got a real treasure, this Nightmare Night! And it wasn't just this picture! Thank You, Your Highness!”

~THE END~

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

Return to Tales to Read AFTER the Lights are OUT!

#NIGHTMARE NIGHT LESSON #MLP Fan Fiction #Tales to Read AFTER the Lights Are Out!#written by De Writer

30 notes · View notes

leighbot · 7 years ago

Text

today’s contribution... it’s weird and not factual or scientifically possible in any way shape or form. i like it a lot anyway

Day Seven: Write about a rocketship

“If I knew how the ship had crashed, I probably could have prevented it,” Harry gripes into his intercom. He uses the back of his hand to wipe at the sweat on his brow and sighs. “You can’t tell anything from your end?”

Liam’s voice is scratchy on the return. “Nothing,” he confirms. “Everything checks out. The systems still show you’re on the move.”

“Well, I’m not,” Harry says simply. “I’m most definitely not on the move.”

“What do the measures show?”

“Like I’m on Earth still. There’s oxygen, good pressure, movement under the surface. It’s like I’ve been flying for two weeks and I’m back where I started. But the view outside is… nothing like home.”

“About how long ago was the crash?”

“An hour and fifteen minutes,” Harry answers, double checking the stop watch on his shirt.

“Your path doesn’t even pass anything solid for another six days. Harry, get that thing up and running as soon as you can- there’s something going on here that I can’t understand.”

Harry kicks at the mainframe, getting nothing but a few angry blinking lights in response. He looks up in search of anything that can help him. He gets an idea. “I’m undoing the com for an hour to try something with the cords – I’ll be back in sixty minutes.”

“Harry-“

“Liam, I have no other options.”

“Suspending communication is not going to help.”

“It isn’t like you know anything yet!” His words come out sharp and angry, loud with his frustration. He goes quiet for a few seconds, his watch clicking through the time. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. I’m going to get you answers, Harry. I promise.”

“Sixty minutes, Liam.”

“Sixty minutes.”

Harry signs off, setting a new timer on his watch for fifty five minutes. Carefully, he lifts the plate off the intercom speaker and gets to work.

Nearly an hour later and he has almost nothing to show for his time except for two new minor burns and a tingling in his hand from an electric shock. He’s got the com system back up but he’s delaying his call in to Liam for fear of having no progress on either of their ends. Instead of doing something useful, he’s currently sat on his bum against the wall, knocking his head against the metal paneling and waiting for inspiration to strike.

It takes longer than it should for him to realise there’s another sound coming from the front of the ship.

Doomed to death regardless of his next action, Harry gets to his feet and ducks through the small archway into the main hull. He doesn’t hear anything anymore and he wonders if he’s already hallucinating. He climbs into his seat, letting his legs hang over the armrest and resting his sore skull on the padded seatback. He closes his eyes.

Knock, knock, knock, knock

Eyes open wide, Harry bolts out of his seat, nearly dinging his head on the ceiling. His breath is shallow and quiet, listening with all of his energy. He hears it again. It’s definitely someone knocking on the door to the ship. The rhythm is off, nothing like the short, sharp knocks that would be common back home, but it’s gentle and unmistakable.

Unsure of the exact atmosphere composition outside the ship, Harry grabs his airpack, sliding it over each shoulder and snapping the mask into place. It covers his mouth and nose completely, leaving the rest of his face open and his mobility free. He grabs his lightpistol and checks that it’s loaded, four bullets ready if needed. He takes off the safety and holds it in front of him as he approaches the door, his footsteps nearly silent. There isn’t any glass on the door through which he could look- of course- so he takes one deep breath, steels himself, and flings it open.

If he’s hallucinating, he’s really, really into it.

The… man? person? alien? standing outside is possibly the prettiest being Harry has ever seen, with human-like features and limbs but with a copper sheen to its skin. There’s a mess of curls that Harry thinks might be green or brown though the exact colour of the shade escapes Harry’s mind. His pistol still held high and aiming out the door, Harry clears his throat.

“Can I help you?” he asks, strongly hoping the being isn’t about to attack because Harry might just let him. “Do you speak English?” His words come out like Darth Vader through the mask and he takes a second to gauge the air. His eyes aren’t prickling or watering so he pulls the mask away and lets it hang around his neck.

“Better than you, probably.”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“I’d like you off of my rock as quickly as possible so, no. That won’t get me very far.”

Harry lowers the lightpistol and earns a smile from the being. “Have you met very many humans, then? Where are we?”

“Your kind comes here from time to time. There’s a magnetic field at my planet’s core that pulls your ships in. I’ve been working on disabling it.”

“What, erm…”

“What am I?” Harry nods. “I guess you’d call me an alien but I would call you the same. Your ancestors came to this planet a thousand years ago and built a colony. I’m one of a hundred inhabitants still alive that descended from the mixed line of your people and mine. I’m ZorAnaYenNod but you can call me Zayn.”

“Zayn,” Harry repeats, liking the buzz of it against his tongue. “I’m Harry. I’ve never heard of this planet. It doesn’t show on the scans.”

“Well, it and my people are proof of the wrongs committed by Earthlings when they came to my home. The circular history of your people taking over lands already possessed proves the lack of evolution from generation to generation. We’ve been hidden since we’ve been found.”

Harry feels the awful urge to apologize but he doesn’t know where he would even start. Zayn doesn’t seem to need it, motioning past him to the inside of the ship.

“Can I see your mainframe? I might be able to program it to ‘ignore’ the magnetic pole, so to speak. It worked on the last guy.”

“Yeah, f’course,” Harry says, stepping back and letting Zayn pass. He follows curiously as Zayn heads straight to the back as if he already knows the layout of the ship. “Have you helped many of us, then? No one’s ever said anything.”

“Your memories are cleared once you leave the orbit.”

“Is that the magnet, too?” Harry jokes, feeling like he’s out of his depth.

“Not sure,” Zayn responds, poking and prodding at the various lights and switches. “I’ve never been off this rock.”

There’s a buzz, a far-off bang and then the slightest hint of a smoky scent to the air and the ship is suddenly back to life, all systems flashing and the engines flaring below the floor.

“How did you do that?” Harry exclaims.

Zayn shrugs though he’s smiling. “It’s a gift, I guess. My mum taught me. You should be good to go. I would follow the path marked out ahead of your ship- it’s the flattest part around here and our only runway.”

Feeling like he wants to leave but doesn’t want to forget the beauty he sees before him, Harry hesitates. Zayn’s smile grows.

“Others have tried to stay but it doesn’t work,” he advises. “I’m not yours to keep and this isn’t your home.”

Harry understands, he really does, and he reminds himself that this is probably all just a hallucination and he can’t miss what isn’t real. He thanks Zayn and lets him walk out of the control room and back to the door of the ship.

Harry laughs. “If you turn out to have been just a dream, it will be the best I’ve ever had.”

“Good bye and safe voyage,” Zayn says, walking away across the empty plain. “You’ll be right back on track within half an Earth-day as if you’ve lost no time at all.”

“Has anyone ever come back?” Harry calls out to him.

“Not yet. Maybe you’ll be the first, Harry.”

“Bye, Zayn.”

Harry waves before tugging the door closed. He heads back to the control room and buzzes the intercom. “Liam, can you hear me?”

There’s nothing but static as an answer. Harry sighs and prepares for takeoff without the guidance from his home-base controller. He’s flown ships like this half of his life so it’s second-nature by now, checking the flightplan, measuring the fuel and going through the safety protocols one by one. He clears himself quickly, the ship as if it had never crashed, and he jumps back into his seat.

“Let’s go home,” he says, getting his hands on the gears. “Let’s go.”

Zayn’s home disappears behind him quickly, a speck in the distance before half a day like Zayn promised. Harry sets his path and rests his eyes, suddenly exhausted.

Waking up, Harry’s surprised to find himself four hours off of his expected schedule. He grabs his radio from where he’s sat. “Liam, can you hear me?”

“Perfectly, Haz.”

“I’m off-schedule. Is something wrong?”

“Looks good on our end, mate. You have a weird recording from last night though. I’ll send it over- it’s hard to make out what it is but you might be able to pick up something.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Harry waits for the message to come through, pressing his thumb to the terminal and letting it open. It’s audio only, the soundwaves sharp against the black background as something crackles over the speakers. There’s murmuring but Harry can’t make out any of it.

“Sounds like I was talking in my sleep, maybe. I’ve done that before.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Liam confirms. “You’re doing great so far. I’ll check in with you again in half a day.”

“Thanks, Liam.”

Liam signs off, the crackle of the message still playing. Harry’s about to turn music on, something to keep him awake, when he hears something that catches his attention. Sitting up straighter, he rewinds. There it is again. He rewinds one more time and turns the volume to the max, closing his eyes.

“Has anyone ever come back?”

That’s definitely his voice. There’s an answer Harry can’t make out though he tries several times. It’s too quiet, too low. He lets the tape play out.

“Bye, Zayn.”

Zayn. Something… some dream Harry had comes to his mind, colours he can’t name and a pretty face he can’t recall. He feels urgency in his veins, something pushing him to remember, and he feels frustrated when he can’t.

“Liam,” he buzzes over the com.

“Yeah, Haz?”

“Monitor my dreams for a few nights. Want to jump on anything before it becomes a problem.”

“You got it.”

Harry sighs and turns on the music, forcing his mind away from the mysterious dream for now.

#zarry #aliens and space au #idk what this is either #365 prompts #drabble #my fic

10 notes · View notes