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oddsnendsfanfics · 4 years

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Chaos in Coccham

Genre: Fan Fiction (The Last Kingdom) Pairing: Finan/Reader Warnings: N/A Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: My entry for @geekandbooknerd 1K CELEBRATION! - Whoo! Congrats! My prompt was “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”

thank you @gearhead66 for the header

The Last Kingdom Master List

Chaos.

Absolute and pure chaos!

The house was upside down and barely hanging on. Toys scattered all over the living room, a sock in the dishwasher, and was that a bucket of sand in the fridge? Uhtred had been gone for the weekend, Friday to Sunday.

Looking at the clock, you rub your hands over your face and sigh. Uhtred would be home before dinner, surely. When he'd left he had made it clear – behave!

Perhaps that had been a warning to the babysitter. Finan loved his surrogate nephews and niece, in return they loved him. What child wouldn't? Uncle Finan was a giant, bearded, kid himself. Your last straw was finding the sticky note on the fridge, claiming that one of the children had thrown up. Finan had insisted he cleaned the kid, the mess, and thanked his time in college for the help.

Had he been drunk?

Through the window in the kitchen, you hear the commotion. Yelling, laughter, and what sounds like something being hit. A brief glance from the window gives you a view of Finan, surrounded by children. A ball of some sort in his hand, he is gearing up to throw it at Osbert, the youngest of Uhtred's children.

Swinging with all his might, the boy closes his eyes, and the others cheer when the make shift ball hits the bat. A loud splat sends bits of obliterated apple soaring through the air. Apple lands everywhere. On the side of the house, the ground, even Osbert. Who, despite the mess he is in, cheers loudly and does a victory lap around the others.

“I told you.” Finan shouts with glee. “I told you that you could do it. See!”

A chorus of “great job!” and “Way to go Os!” follows Finan.

“Alright, little man, are you ready?” Finan shouts and points at a forth child.

Before any more apples can be thrown, you step through the screen door. Everybody wrapped up in their game, nobody took the time to notice you looming.

“Finan.” Your voice rings through the yard.

Heads snap and Osbert even gasps. As if they had saw a ghost or another sort of daunting monster, the gang freezes.

“My love, my heart. What a lovely surprise.” Finan is grinning like a mad man. A bushel of rotting apples by his feet. His beard covered in bits of apple, his shirt muddy, and his jeans grass stained. He looks as rough as the children around him.

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes. “You're in trouble, Mister.”

“Oohh!” the children mocked, giggling and laughing at their babysitter.

“My love, my heart. Trouble? We're only having a bit of fun.” He tries his best to woo you with his cheeky grin and those big brown eyes.

Ignoring him, you set your sights on his accomplices. “Kids, you all know better than to let Finan run wild.”

“Run wild? I did no such thing.” The Irishman defends his actions.

Ignoring his plight the best you can, you try your best to steady your mood. This was a disaster. Finan meant well, he adored the kids, but sometimes he got a little out of hand. Taking the drunk favourite uncle to a whole new level. When Uhtred had asked his best friend to watch his children, he knew what he was getting into.

“Athelstan, what are you doing here?” Your gaze falls upon the dark haired boy, mud and apple all over him.

“I wanted to come play.”

“Do his parents know he's here?” You look at Finan, hoping he had at least mentioned taking the boy to somebody in his family.

“No clue, but his grandmother knows. She brought him over.” Finan's smile is wide, as he ruffles his little shadow's hair.

“Do you want to play?” Uhtred, the younger version, asks holding out the bat.

Scowling at the teenager, you huff. “No, I don't want to play. What I want is everybody inside and cleaning. Your father is going to be murderous, when he comes home to this.”

Sulking and grumbling, Finan's miniature terror brigade slowly move to your will. Had you made it a game, like Finan, they would have gladly got on board doing whatever you asked. Unfortunate for them, this was business that needed dealt with. If you'd left it to Finan, it would never be completed and Uhtred would never speak to either of you again.

Inside the mood was somber, children filing in, and Finan following you like a lost puppy. He would have gotten around to cleaning, eventually. In his defense, Uhtred had lived in worse. Most of their college years were spent living in absolute chaos and disarray. To think of it, Finan couldn't remember either of them ever cleaning. Perhaps that was the reason Sihtric had always kept his door locked and refused to grant them entrance to his room.

“Uhtred is going to kill you,” Hands on your hips, shaking your head at the destruction. At home, Finan would never allow this to happen. If he did you would be gone and he would be left to pick up more than a mess.

“We'll have it all cleaned up before then.” Finan winks and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Come on gang, time to get dirty.”

“But we were having fun,” Stiorra whines pouting and using her best attempt at puppy dog eyes. It was her no fail, fool proof way of getting whatever she wanted.

“Oh, well, I suppose...” Finan smiled softly at his favourite – not that he would tell the others.

“Finan.” You gently cuff the back of his head. “No wonder this place it a wreck. Did you let them play you like that all weekend?”

Finan gently rubbed the back of his head, frowning. “Not all weekend.”

Unbelievable!

Finan was useless when it came to authority with children.

He was kind with a good heart, fun, and trusting. However he had no control over the younger beings, when they wanted something, he was easily played and every kid who met him somehow sensed that. Fun Uncle Finan was his claim and he adored the title, it meant more to him than anything else. Yes, he could allow the children to get unruly. Yes, he could do better with being the boss. He could even feed them a vegetable or two now and then, but what did any of that matter?

At the end of the day they were alive. Happy. Fed. And couldn't wait to start all over again in the morning. These were the things that made memories. Memories of a happy home and childhood were the things that dictated success. Providing a happy childhood, with their favourite drunk uncle, was worth more than gold to Finan.

House somewhat cleaner than when you'd arrived, dinner on the table, and kids cleaned all in three hours – it was something short of a miracle. Finan finished sweeping up the living room, while you wrangled children to the table. This time there wasn't a piece of pizza, chip, or candy insight. No complaints, either, which greatly amused Finan.

If he'd tried to feed them salad, they would have revolted. Staged a coup and hung him by his underwear.

“Well done my love, my heart.” Finan praises, stashing the broom and dust pan.

“See what being a mindful leader gets you,” You wink and turn to give him a well deserved kiss on the cheek. “You can take control, the kids will still love you.”

“Tell me about it, I love you every day. Despite having my bal-” Wisely he shuts his mouth, when he receives your glare. “I will do better, next time.”

“When this is done, I am taking Athelstan home. Finan, please do the dishes and get the kids in bed before it's too late.”

Armed with your instructions, Finan salutes. “Yes ma'am.”

Dinner finished, it's up to the kids to load the dishwasher and get cleaned up. Allowing Finan to flex his authority skills. Gathering the grubby Athelstan, you listen to Finan as he tries to be demanding. The Irishman really doesn't have it in him to be tough, not with three of his favourite young humans at least.

He'll learn. In time.

You had been telling yourself that for a few years. It was never going to happen. Those children had him right where they wanted him, the only other person they could overpower and outwit that easily was Osferth and he was growing wise to their wicked ways.

Shouting goodbye, you usher Athelstan out the front door. His parents likely have no clue he is missing, his grandmother would have told Finan to let her know when he needed to come home, which would have been forgotten in the chaos and fun.

Chaos and Fun were only two of Finan's greatest qualities. Despite how they drove you mad.

“What do we have here?” Uhtred's voice startles you, the car door shutting with a thud. Taking a look over the messy child, he folds his arms and waits.

“Uhtred,” You greet him with a faint smile, speaking loudly in hopes Finan and the children will hear you through the window.

“How bad is it?” Uhtred sighs. He had no illusions about how big of a mess Finan and his children would make. Seeing you was the indication that there was some hope.

“Not as bad as it was.” You shrug, instructing Athelstan to get in the backseat of your car. “They're just finishing dinner.”

“Alright, well, I should go in and see them. Are you going to wait for Finan?”

“Actually, that is a great idea. Tell him to hurry, I won't wait long.”

Waiting for Finan, you smile at Athelstan in the back seat. He looks like he's been lost in the woods for a week, wandering through mud and muck, as if he'd never met a bath before. Thankful that you were the one who didn't have to clean him.

Looking through the windshield, you frown at the sight of Finan dragging himself from the house. Overnight bag in hand, he had a pout and his eyes are downcast as he walks. His upbeat, eager demeanor is dampened. No doubt Uhtred had given him a quick once over about the responsible adult – again.

“What's wrong?” Your immediate instinct is to ask when he opened the car door.

Finan's brow is creased and his eyes sad.

“I wasn't ready to say goodbye.” Finan let the door shut behind him, sighing heavily. “But that is fine, Uhtred asked if I can come over Wednesday, when he works late.”

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

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12. The Apex is Falling

This is the longest chapter of this story at a whopping 6819 words. I hated making a chapter that long for this fic in this fandom, but like... I just couldn’t break it anywhere that I thought about. So, sorry about that bit, folks. I don’t know if anything here is necessarily triggering, mostly just sort of sad and troubling.

The Monroes did not appreciate the amount of retroactive damage control that they had to do behind Grace’s former behavior, however. As it was, they did spin the story in order to paint Grace as a girl who felt threatened and needed to defend herself. They were mostly disappointed that she lied to them and that her lies weren’t buried. If she was going to lie, she could have at least made sure that it never saw the light of day! Her mother wasn’t currently speaking to her and her father was being as extreme in his rules as ever before. She had embarrassed them. She embarrassed them at the Corn Dog Express, and CERTAINLY when the assault allegations arose. She didn’t see the need to point out that the first was actually Simon, not her, because her mother had been very vocal about how stupid it was to leave her wallet behind, “As though Simon ever has money!”

It wasn’t worth explaining to her that Simon usually carried her small items in his pockets when they were together and she had presumed that he had her wallet. It wasn’t worth speaking at all, because her mother was so infuriated with her that after she completed her obligatory bitching about things, she began her unscheduled silent treatment. Nothing that Grace would say would matter until Mrs. Monroe deemed her worthy of regaining her attention. 10 year old grace would have fallen apart. Soon to be 16 year old Grace just took her verbal berating with a grain of salt and the mental note that Simon was on her shitlist.

Their birthdays weren’t too far from each other’s. Simon’s fell towards the end of August and hers was about a month later, so they generally combined birthday efforts, and this year, they were turning 16. That meant a lot of big things for Simon. He was going to be liberated from his parent’s guardianship, he had his permit and only needed to take a test for his license, he would be old enough to work a real job, and all of those combined things meant that he would legally be an adult. This is extremely important to him.

Children had no power. They couldn’t make money. They couldn’t legally drive. They couldn’t find a home and live by their own rules. It was an excruciating reality, and no matter how much he tried to prove his worth in the real world, as long as he had no legality to his adulthood, people didn’t take him as seriously as they should have. He didn’t like that. This was the first birthday that he was looking forward to since his childhood.

Grace wasn’t as stoked about hers. She was so disinterested that she wanted them to have their birthday party closer to his birthday, instead. Her mother absolutely shot that idea down. She was going to have a very big and deliberate Sweet 16 party and was going to invite every single famous person that she now knew, along with the most upstanding students at the academy, and the children of politicians and entrepreneurs that the Monroes respected and valued. Simon didn’t mind waiting a month for a party like that, at all. Plus, it would give him time to maybe gather up the nerve to ask her out, officially. Her birthday was technically September 23 at 6:45 am, but the party was on Saturday the 22, and would still be happening at Midnight, which would be considered her birth date. So, he wanted to ask her then. He wanted to get her a gift. Not to add to her hope chest like all of her tribute trinkets, but something that would show that she was his. He had ideas for years. A lot of them, very expensive, ergo impossible. Some of them, complicated, ergo improbable. He wanted to do something that he had the power or skill to do, that was also a worthy offering to her of himself and his emotions, and still have it be something that she would also enjoy.

He was fortunate that as her long term right hand, he had the power of the Apex on his side. The rich kids at school who lived for her were more than willing to contribute to his cause and her girl sect went above and beyond being helpful in arranging things and assisting in his planning process. The main mission was complete secrecy. He didn’t want anyone involved to speak with anyone else about their role or donation. He wanted it to be a surprise to her and everyone else. He wanted to woo her in the most memorable way and to create something so magnificent that there wouldn’t be a single doubt in her mind that here was a man who wanted her more than anything. He smiled to himself thinking about his elaborate gesture.

“What are you smiling about?” She asked, looking up from her book. He blushed, thinking about her wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the lips, then looking at him with love in her eyes, ready to be everything to him. “Simon, really. What the heck are you thinking about right now?”

“Being happy,” he said. She narrowed her eyes and stared at him suspiciously. “What are you thinking?”

“That I have never heard my Simon speak about being happy in the almost 6 years that I’ve known him, so you’re obviously one of his little figures, but life size and able to communicate… and I don’t doubt that Simon has the smarts to create such a thing, but the funding… I’d be confused on where he got the funding.” He let out a little chuckle and leaned back in his seat. He was working on his assignment again, but he was still smiling to himself. Weird.

That wasn’t the only weird thing that he did lately. He began to keep himself up more. It wasn’t that he didn’t take care of himself, but he was more of a functional, hygienic than the extra care that he was now taking into stuff like his eyebrows and fingernails. He used to just either let them grow out of sheer apathy, clip them out of annoyance that he’d let them get too long, or chipped them in his day to day and bit off the crooked parts when he did. Now, he seemed like he was giving himself manicures. His nails looked healthy and cared for. His cuticles seemed nourished and smooth. And he smelled amazing now. Like, not like he picked up whatever antiperspirant was cheapest when he passed the aisle, but like he was making attempts to be fresh and clean and… attractive! “OH MY GOD, YOU’VE got a crush on somebody!” she said.

She saw a shimmer in his gray eyes and she laughed and looked around. “Who is it? I know that she’s Apex. You’d never look twice at a null. BUT… I have no idea what your type is. I remember whenever you would get all clammy whenever that redhead girl came around.”

“What? No I didn't. I would always get nauseated, because she always had on so much perfume that it unsettled my stomach and made me feel like I’d break out in hives.”

“So… not her, then.” She studied around the campus. “I’m gonna find out who she is.”

“What will you say to her?” He asked, and rested his tongue on his upper canines as he smiled at her.

“Hi, I’m Grace. I’m sure you know me as one half of Grace and Simon, also known as The Apex. I’m here to tell you that it’s your lucky day, because Simon himself has his eyes set on you. I strongly recommend that you give him a chance. I can’t make you, but it would really be in your best interest, because he’s an amazing guy… And if you hurt him, I’ll fucking kill you. Hahaha… Just Kidding! Unless you hurt him, and then I’m not.”

He started laughing and something settled in his eyes as he looked at her. She stopped smiling, slowly, and collected her things, “I should get to dance so that I'll have enough time to tie these locs up. Are you… gonna tell her, ever? Or, is it just something that you like having in your mind for nobody else to taint?”

“Will you stop looking for her if I answer this?”

“Scouts honor.”

“You’re not a scout.”

“Half of me is,” she said and gestured towards him. He laughed again. This was the cheeriest that Simon had been.

“Okay, well… I’m definitely going to eventually speak to her about it.” His smile was very warm and he looked… genuinely happy. Like, she couldn’t remember ever seeing him so much so, not even when they were doing great fun things together. It was like he had some sort of peace that he found. She HOPED that she wasn’t going to ruin that for him.

“Well… What if… she’s not interested in you?” She asked, trying not to look right at him as she asked.

“Wouldn’t it be in her best interest to give me a chance, since I’m such an amazing guy?” He asked back, still smiling, still content.

“I did say that.” She nodded her head. “And I did mean it, but what if… she doesn’t, you know, think of you in THAT way?” Now, his smile faltered and he thought for a while. She wondered if he was registering what she was trying to go around saying.

“Why wouldn’t she?” he asked, concerned. She moved her legs nervously, dancing around and he stood up, grabbing his things to walk with her. “What’s wrong with me?” He asked.

She shook her head, “Nothing. But, what if… well… what if she’s like me?” He looked confused. “Like… What if she never thinks about stuff like that? What if she once kissed the person that she loved more than anything and it only registered to her as something soft and wonderful… but nothing like the way that people describe kisses are supposed to be? What if she thinks that you’re the best thing on earth, but… she just doesn’t feel certain things? Would you still want her, if she can’t want you in the same way?”

“Are you… coming out as something, Grace?”

“I guess so. I’m just… I guess with you moving on to other relationships, I’m wondering where I stand.”

“There will never be anyone that comes before you…”

“That’s a bad start, if you like somebody else, Simon. But, that’s not what I meant. I mean, I know that you have certain feelings. I’ve seen it. I don’t have those. Someday, when our friendship isn’t enough to fulfill your connection with someone, I guess, I’m wondering if you think that somebody like you would be able to connect with somebody like me… when I can’t reciprocate everything.”

“Are you… Like… Asexual?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve never had to think about it before. The only guy that I’ve ever been close to has always been my best friend. I’m just warning you. Fake relationship that we’re having in front of my dad aside, you should ask yourself if you would still want this girl if she was… like me.”

“I would… I do,” he said nodding his head.

“You didn’t even think about it.”

“I don’t have to think about it. I’d want you, no matter what.”

She playfully elbowed him, “You mean “her.”

He caught her elbow and her attention when he did so. “Could you? Being… the way you are? Do you want to have somebody who wants you?”

“I don’t want to be alone, and I have feelings, if that’s what you're asking. Just… not the ones that people our age tend to seek out. I could absolutely fall in love with a wonderful person and want to spend all of my time with them and be as fulfilled as somebody can be… But, I already have that. I guess it just now occurred to me that getting older maybe means losing that, because you’ll eventually want and need more, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to deliver what needs you might have. Or the next person. Or the next...” Her eyes were a little damp.

Simon heard what she said, and it even made sense to him on some level. However, looking at her, with the school approved scarf tying her locs up and forward, her face all natural and flawless, save the tears trying to form in her eyes, and her long, perfect legs bouncing nervously just thinking about losing him… What she was saying just didn’t really matter to him. It couldn’t matter. What she was saying meant that he might have to move on from his soul mate. He didn’t WANT to hear that part. He heard the part that did matter to him.

I could absolutely fall in love with a wonderful person and want to spend all of my time with them and be as fulfilled as somebody can be.. I already have that.

He smiled and wrapped an arm around her. She sank into his side, as usual and they kept walking.

The number 16 was lit up in the sky with fireworks. It was set to be there all night. If it began to fade, the paid pyrotechnician would release another. The attire was “Heavenly Extravaganza,” and they were calling it her “Celestial Sixteen,” instead of “sweet.” All of the hired help were dressed in white, silver, and gold gaudy Victorian styled costume, and Mrs. Monroe literally had a set built in their ballroom, to have a tower upon which she and Mr. Monroe could sit on “heavenly thrones.” Her Queen of Heaven outfit was much like something you might see in a very high budget film about a royal queen, and her husband’s suit matched. The Monroes and Simon were dressed in gold, with jewelry and sparkles.

Grace and Simon had both been taken to a styling center. Their outfits, hair, body, and things that Simon wouldn’t have even thought about were all surrendered to Mrs. Monroe’s team of professionals to have them be flawless for their entry. Simon was listed as Grace’s escort, but her mother had worked very hard to make sure that they had the matching attire she had for this vision of hers, and that there was no possibility that they forgot to do anything, if left to get themselves ready. Grace was more used to this than Simon was (even for the school dances that he always attended with Grace, he was styled, but generally took care of himself besides that). He didn’t usually have to do a spa day and detox, and sophisticated beauty treatments. He liked it though.

Simon felt like a king. Grace felt like a doll.

She hated these appointments. Sure, she felt wonderful afterwards, but that was typically short lived once she had to get prepared by the team. She was pressed into a dress and standing for the time it took to steam it to be certain that there were no wrinkles, then getting placed into the vehicle - tonight a white limousine covered in bling crystals, and driven to the estate, where all of her Apex fans would be clustered outside, but barricaded (Simon convinced her mother to sell tickets to stand outside of the property and watch Grace come down the red carpet).

The sun had not yet set and Grace could see countless faces that had no real characteristics, except for lipstick prints on their faces that they had their friends kiss on or drew on themselves or something, in varying degrees of red (none of which were Apex Red), and inexpensive formal attire. She was much better at remembering attire than faces, and she didn’t know any of these fans, so it was lipstick marks and public school prom gowns that she and Simon walked down, towards the party, where Apex members that Simon hand selected were allowed to stand on the sides and receive them without barricades (guards were nearby).

Simon felt like royalty. Grace felt like a spectacle.

Simon had been to Monroe events before. This topped everything! Mrs. Monroe had allowed him to collaborate with stylists on his attire, and they customized things based upon some of his wishes and on the design of Grace’s gown. He was allowed to be behind the scenes and work with planners for various details and things.

Grace hadn’t been the least bit interested. She never was and quite frankly was a little annoyed that Simon was so into it, but she didn’t press too hard, since she knew he liked setting up scenes for his figures and stuff and guessed that this was all similar for him. She ragged on him about it a little bit, but got bored with it, since he paid her very little attention.

After that, she spent the party planning time writing music and working on songs. Mrs. Monroe wanted her to learn a dance for the party, but she shrugged her shoulders and said, “Simon and I can just do the waltz we did freshman year.” Simon looked at her like she was out of her mind.

“I don’t remember that dance!” he said, laughing uneasy.

“I didn’t say Simon and you, I said you need to learn a dance,” Mrs. Monroe told her. Grace had her tongue stuck out, thinking as she wrote down notes on sheet paper and hummed, with her mother and Simon’s voices barely registering to her. “Grace!” She snapped her head up and the woman shook her own head and said, “Simon, handle her,” before walking off, heels clacking on the floor.

Grace laughed and imitated in her exaggerated British accent that she used to mock her mother, “Simon, handle her.” But, Simon didn’t laugh along or join in. Instead, he clasped his hands together and bit his lip. “Oh, what? Don’t tell me that you’re about to start sticking up for my mom, too?”

“Noooo… But, the party is very important. Your dad worked really hard to fix the incidents surrounding your name…”

“Which were brought on by your explosion in the mall…” She reminded him. He bypassed the reminder.

“And now, we have to focus on the leader of the Apex being worshiped, and your reputation being restored. You said that your image is important to you. Your mom is literally bringing your image into the heavens. Have you SEEN the Black Madonna piece she had made from her delivery photo?”

“That wasn’t a delivery photo. I was days old when they did that photo shoot. A team made her look like a beautiful glowing new mother. There ARE no delivery photos, because she, and I quote, “Actually somehow looked ugly while ruining her body with my arrival and didn’t want anyone in the world, not even me to ever see her less than stunning.” She destroyed photos from the actual birth.”

“Okay… But, did you see the artwork?”

“I see that you seem to be trusting the adults. We don’t trust adults. We don’t listen to our parents.”

“You listen to your parents all the time!”

“I mean, yeah, when I have to, but like… YOU don’t have to!”

He sighed and sat down next to her. “You’re about to be an adult, Grace.”

“Hell no, I’m not. I’m about to be 16, and instead of doing some cool shit with my best friend, I’m gonna be hosting a knock off Met Gala with literally a ballroom FULL of strangers. I don’t know any of the people on the guest list, and I certainly don’t know people who were exploited by you and my mom just to see me get out of a shiny ass limo and walk.” She tossed her music book aside and touched his ponytail, “Wouldn’t you rather we went through the motions, then got out of the limo, gave the kids on the sidelines their little tickets’ worth, then I just kick off my shoes and we take off running to go camping in the woods and play Chubby Bunny?”

He scoffed and threw his head back. “So, whenever I try to defend your honor, we’re not kids anymore, but whenever I try to help fix your image that you blame me for messing up, then you want to be 12 again?”

“No, when you react violently to a simple mistake, that’s childish to me, but it's perfectly fine to say a big screw you to these societal pressures and have fun with my best friend, for my birthday!”

“How do you know this won’t be fun, Grace? Several people, including me, have worked hard to make this a memorable night for you… And you don’t even seem to care.” He got up and grabbed his backpack. She felt horrible. Maybe she was a childish brat, after all.

“Simon…”

“I have college exams coming up,” he said, softly. That was his version of a goodnight.

“Simon, I’m sorry. You’ve been working really hard to make up for the corn dog thing. It isn’t your fault that my parents are still punishing me. Not directly, anyway. I should have noticed that you were putting in all of this planning work for me, for us. I just… You don’t have to do it. I’m happiest the days that we just get to spend time together. I feel like we never get to anymore. Like the old days, when it was just you and me. I guess for me, getting older means losing everything that I consider precious and the closer my birthday gets, and the more adult you act, I just… I don’t know. It’s a lot.” She hugged herself. “But, you have a point. This will help my image and I should be grateful that everyone is working so hard. Especially you.” She kissed him on the cheek and he turned an instant bright shade of red, overmatched only by the Apex Red print she left there. He took a deep breath and gave her an affirming nod.

So, she sucked it up and decided to be here tonight and gave it her all.

There was dancing, mingling, her mother announcing things over a speaker system, from a hidden mic attached to her person, and a presentation of gifts - something that Grace just knew Simon was responsible for. It was like whenever kids gave tribute to her at school and he’d tell them, “All right, you know the drill, line up and present tribute as your dues to be able to call yourselves members of the Apex.”

But, tonight, there were Apex members with Simon’s kiss… She recognized his lip prints, as she noted tonight… lined up, very military in their movements, holding gifts in one hand and their fists into the air with the other. Grace smiled, in confusion, glanced at Simon, who was seated on the other side of the tête-à-tête with her. He was looking at the display. Simon felt like the world was about to become his. Grace was frightened that hers was about to fall apart…

Because with every presentation, every declaration that each kid seemed to be making on Simon’s behalf, traveling their memories of friendship with gifts that were brought as symbols of sentimental moments that she and Simon shared… she realized that this wasn’t just some tribute from Simon for her birthday. This was a very bold declaration!

Every gift was beautiful and brought up some of her fondest memories of them, and when Simon knelt in front of her and presented her with the final and most important gift - a charm bracelet, with charms of each of those gifts in his presentation, with an inscription “The Apex is Forever,” and in front of ALL THESE PEOPLE, friends, family, strangers, fans, celebrities, hired help, and whatever phones and cameras were present, he said, “The only thing that makes sense is that we’re together. Will you accept this as a token from my heart and take me as your man?”

What did that even MEAN? Was this for her father’s benefit? Shouldn’t he have discussed something so extreme with her? And what was she supposed to do with all of these eyes on her? With his eyes on her?

“Gray Eyes…” She was sweating and about to cry and breathing hard… “You’ve always been my man, Man...” she said. There were cheers from just about everyone, except her parents. Her mother threw her father a displeased look, but the man just looked right back at her with a note of satisfaction. Her mother got up from her throne and went down the winding staircase of the tower to leave. Her father stood and thanked everyone for coming out to Grace and Simon’s 16th birthday party.

Grace went to go find her mother as Apex members got out of her way, random strangers congratulated her on her new relationship, and friends crowded Simon to celebrate that they pulled it off. Simon barely noticed her leave, but when she paused in the doorway and looked at him, they made eye contact. He looked slightly confused, but when she turned to continue her exit, he continued talking to Apex.

“Mom?” Grace called, knocking on the boudoir door as she entered. The woman had already gotten out of the dress, but the elaborate hive of a hairdo, graced with celestial embellishments would take longer. Grace was shocked that the dress didn’t take longer, but she realized when she picked it up to avoid trying to cross over it in her own, that Mrs. Monroe had ripped it off. “Are you okay?”

“He isn’t right for you,” Her mother said, staring at the reflection behind her in her vanity. “You and I both know it. You think that I don’t pay attention, but I do. He isn’t right for you, and you’ll regret this.”

“I thought that you wanted me with my best friend. It was Daddy who wanted me with someone in my class.” Now, he’s paying Simon to make me a kept woman and suddenly my best friend isn’t right for me? “Did you two switch roles?”

The woman rolled her eyes, “Your father is settling, because he thinks that a man can fix anything. Forget about the fact that women historically have been doing all of the heaviest lifting without any of the credit, whether it’s been in the workplace or in the home. The driver told us that there was something wrong with you, and we didn’t listen. We knew that we raised you to make good decisions, with morals and intelligence. The moment you introduced me to Simon, I saw that he was a bad decision. But, you talked to us, and we heard you out. This was your best friend and you wanted us to treat him like someone you cared about, and so we did. You never ask for much. It was one small task to take an unfortunate child into some of our charity. Now, look at you… some miserably defected boy’s golden goose.” She snatched up her makeup removing cloth and shook her head, “Your father is settling. You’re settling, and you’ll regret it.”

Grace grabbed a foot stool and set it next to her mother, “I didn’t know what to say. I had to say something and I couldn’t just shoot him down in front of all those people. The public would burn me at the stake for that, and Simon would be hurt, and Daddy would be displeased. I don’t even think you would have liked that.”

“Why do you think he CHOSE tonight to do this?” She asked. “You think that he just thought this was the right time to show you that he cared? He wanted an audience. He wanted to put you on the spot. He wanted to control the situation so that he could have some control over your answer! Don’t be fooled, Grace. Simon is a smart boy. He knows who you are and how you are. He knew what to say and do to get you to say yes and you fell for it.”

Grace was getting fed up with her mother’s accusations. She thought the woman had grown to like Simon, at least. She was speaking about him like he was still just some shaggy boy in a shabby suit to her. “He didn’t purposefully put me in an uncomfortable position, Mom. Simon may have a lot of problems, we ALL do… but he does love me and he would never do something to make me stressed out on purpose or try to dominate me!”

The woman finally actually turned her face to Grace, and Grace would never forget the look of certainty in her eyes whenever she said, “Simon doesn’t even know what love is, and neither do you. What in this world would make you think that he is able to give you something that he has never been given before, himself?”

“Because, I know that I give him my love. He knows it too...” Grace said in a low voice, unsure of the truth in that, even as she said it.

Her mother scoffed and turned back to the mirror, a bemused partial smile on her features. “Whatever it is that you two give each other… You’ll regret it, Grace. Mark my words. I haven’t changed my position at all. You should still make sure that you build a life with your best friend. My opinion is that Simon simply isn’t that. I don’t know if he ever was. You just regarded him as such because you had someone who you could control for once. But, he’s grown out of that, poppet. You didn’t even notice when he cut his strings and tied them onto you, did you? Of course not. Because, you love him. Because he’s your friend. Love makes you stupid. Friendship makes you weak. And you let him make you both.”

On principle alone, Grace was going to take her relationship with Simon as far as it could go. Just to prove that her mother was wrong. “Well, you didn’t seem to mind him whenever you needed my strings pulled.”

Her mom was wiping off makeup. “I minded. I just knew that I have more control over him these days than I do over you. Simon may have surpassed your tactics, but the world will burn before he’s ever able to match my skills. You’ve just gone so wrong that you don’t know which way to go. Maybe you do need professional help.” She sighed, “It’s sad. You had such potential, and you’re going to end up just like me. The trophy of someone who wanted the best, only to hoard your greatness...”

She left the boudoir, angrily and found Simon and her father on the terrace, watching the guests be led out of the event. “Hey,” she said. They both turned around to see her.

“I should go find my wife,” her father said and clapped Simon on the shoulder.

“She’s not happy,” Grace warned, under her breath. Her father hugged her and gave her a soft happy birthday. She wondered if Simon hadn’t told him that would be a nice present. That just made it feel… less than, but the entire night had been unpleasant to some degree. Or, if she now was deserving of his affection because she had found herself a good man to tame her. That just made her feel sick.

When they were alone, she stared at Simon, trying to forget the things her mother accused him of, but… something had felt off about him for a while. It wasn’t his damn eyebrows, or his hygiene, or anything like that. There was something different about him. Something that made her uncomfortable. Something that she felt like needed to be addressed, but never wanted to, because it might put them in a bad place.

But, those were her friend’s eyes. Gray eyes, that always looked at her with fondness, from the very first time they landed on her. “Simon… What you did tonight…” He smiled. He was extremely impressed with how well he pulled it all off! She had no idea that he had worked so hard for the most spectacular gift to the Apex ever - official confirmation of Grace and Simon, their OTP, their royalty. “You shouldn’t have.” His smile faded. Her face was stern and she didn’t seem happy.

“The Internet will talk about this night forever.”

“The Internet wasn’t in that room tonight! The Internet wasn’t put on the spot, in front of all of those people. The Internet didn’t just have their mother scold them for being stupid and weak enough to have a friend and to love that friend. You put me in a really uncomfortable position, Simon. You had the chance to tell me about this whenever we talked about how important this party was to you, and you didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t say anything because it was a surprise… A surprise that I take it ‘the impossible to please Grace Monroe’ was not pleased with.”

“I get why you felt like you had to impress my dad, but…”

“Your dad?” He laughed, but his eyes looked anything but amused, “Your dad? You think I did that for some empty promise to your dad?”

“Why else would you do it?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!” He shouted at her, almost right in her face. She was stunned. It was the most contradictory way of saying it that she had heard and she had heard her parents tell her this before with not the slightest hint of warmth or kindness. This… was actually terrifying.

He must’ve realized that he frightened her, because he reeled himself in and placed prayer hands over his mouth as he waited for her next words. She couldn’t find any, so he broke the silence. “I didn’t mean to yell. You just… sound like you didn’t mean it when you said yes to me. You sound like you're backing out. You sound like you’re making excuses, when you could have just told me that you don’t want me.”

Her eyes were wide with disbelief. All of those things were true, but he was saying them like they were unreasonable, considering the atmosphere that she was faced with, not to mention this completely alarming reaction to even the possibility of those facts. “Simon… Do you remember the conversation we had about the girl you liked?”

“I remember the conversation we danced around about our feelings for each other,” he said. “I remember that you said that I’m amazing and that I deserve a chance. I remember you said, “I could absolutely fall in love with a wonderful person and want to spend all of my time with them and be as fulfilled as somebody can be.. I already have that.” I remember knowing that you were afraid to lose me, and now you won’t. I don’t know what’s been up with you. That conversation was the confirmation that I needed, to know that you know that we belong together!”

“I told you that I didn’t think that I could give you what you might expect out of a relationship...” Her heart was racing as she choked the words out, not wanting to upset him, but unable to stop herself from reminding him.

“Grace, I don’t care about your sexuality. That’s a part of you and I respect that. I just get sick and tired of us pretending that there’s not something between us.”

“I’ve never pretended that…”

“Then what’s the problem? You don’t really love me?”

“I do!”

“Good! We’re on the same page again!” He collected her into a hug and she started crying on his shoulder.

Simon felt like… She gets it. She knows how I feel, I know how she feels, and everything is right in the world again. Grace had never felt more alone, misunderstood, or confused… but, at least she still had Simon.

They could work through these feelings. She was obviously just projecting the doubts her mother had planted. This was Simon. Her Simon. Her friend… her man? That thought didn’t even sound right, but that’s what… what was happening? She stood and stared at his face. He was watching her suspiciously, like he was looking for a sign of her doubts from moments before. She had to do something that she had done before, but had never really thought about the fact that she had to do this with Simon… she plastered on a fake smile and cupped his face.

He sighed and rested his lips against her forehead. “My Grace,” he whispered, holding her tight. She softened, willing herself not to feel tension with Simon. She wrapped her arms around him and rested against him. It didn’t feel quite right, but she knew these arms, this scent, the rhythm of this heartbeat, and that was what she guessed she needed, to deal with… whatever the rest of that stuff was.

“Since you brought it up, Grace… What do you think is the significance of that talk today?”

Grace came out of her memories of she and Simon to look at the psychiatrist. Every time she pulled herself out of a memory of Simon and the Apex, she was faced with this woman, and she was brought back to reality - the real world, where Simon was no longer in her life and she was the most trapped she had ever been.

The large glasses, large afro, the fullest lips and a wide gap between her teeth always reminded Grace of one of those cheap pieces of Black art in the beauty supply shop… but the doctor always was dressed in a business suit and had a blank facial expression. She didn’t smile or look sad or even seem to react to anything Grace said.

That made it easier for Grace to confide in her about everything that went down between her and Simon before she landed herself in this place. That made her more open about the things he’d done to punish her, as well as all of the things she did that made her feel like maybe she deserved some of his punishment. Everyday she told herself that she didn’t, but when the person you’ve loved more than anything for nearly half of your life turns against you, turns everyone against you… “Maybe… Maybe I messed up. I should have just told him that I couldn’t see a future for us and that I would always be his friend and nothing else. I knew that he cared about me. I should have been more direct in telling him that couldn’t happen the way that he wanted.” The doctor blinked and nodded once. “And now, I’ve said something wrong to you.”

“It isn’t that you’ve said anything wrong, Grace. You spoke your true feelings, and that’s what you’re supposed to do here. It’s never wrong of you to admit your feelings. Now that you’ve stated them, I can help you sort through them again. Whenever you spoke with Simon that day - the day that you tried to bring back to his remembrance on the night of the party, did you tell him any lies?”

“No. I was completely honest with him about everything.”

“Why do you feel like you should have lied instead? How would you suppose it might have been a benefit to either of you, for you to lie to him?”

“Because, Simon couldn’t handle my truth. I was supposed to protect him. The people in his life always abandoned him. I was the one person who he thought he could depend on, and when I could have protected him and just told him that we were friends, and that was it, I told him that I loved him and had a fulfilling relationship with him.”

“Why do you think that a lie might have protected Simon?”

Grace shrugged her shoulders, “I guess that doesn’t make sense. But, my relationship with Simon never did. When we were little, I could always tell when something was bothering him and I always tried to smooth him over. I always made it right. Then… we got older and I noticed less and less. I realized that a lot of the stuff that I said and did to keep Simon docile were probably the same kinds of things that made him so aggressive?” Grace needed the doctor to tell her whether this sounded right or not. She hardly knew anymore. What she did know was that when she was 16, she lost her best friend, and it took her two more years to even fully see that.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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rhetoricalrogue · 4 years

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31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 30

Prompt: Night Rating: G Words: 1,804 Characters: Cameron Buchanan, Nicolo Morelli Summary: This is the fic, if it were a show, that would be titled The Boys Talk About Their Feelings. AKA, Unit Delta (D for Demotion!) field missions are boring as hell. Note: The mention of a certain type of shapeshifting animal is a nod to the Wayhaven Writers Group and a certain Saturday book club reading.

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

Stakeouts were usually the most boring thing Nicky could think of doing. Nothing usually happened on them and he hated staying still in one place. At least this time he was partnered up with his Commanding Agent so the company was good and he didn’t have to sit out in his car freezing his ass off alone.

“You think there’s going to be any movement?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee. Drinking wasn’t the wisest idea he had, seeing that he’ll have to go out and find a tree or nearby bush take a piss behind sometime within the next hour or so, but the coffee was hot and he needed something to keep him awake. Napping while doing boring surveillance was a surefire way to make sure that something important did happen that he would unfortunately miss.

“Probably not.” Cam relaxed in the driver’s seat and grabbed a snack sized bag of chips he’d packed. Stakeouts always made him hungry and it was one of the few times that he liked to indulge in junk food and convenience store ready made meals, especially if Nicky was around. It was funny, the man had serious Opinions, capital O and everything, when it came to restaurant food, but the two of them could tear up a 7-11 if left alone without adult supervision, namely Penny and Winona. “Looks like this is another wasted evening.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nicky raised the night vision goggles he had been messing with and pointed towards some people who were walking away from their car. “I think that’s a drug deal.”

Cam, who had no need for night vision goggles, tracked Nicky’s finger and rolled his eyes. “Nick, those are kids. They look like they’re twelve.”

“Then they’re out past curfew. We should sneak up and scare the hell out of them.”

Cam gave him a disbelieving look before opening his chip bag. “I’m not going to scare a few kids just because they’re walking home in the dark.”

“Spoilsport.”

“You want to be the next cryptid creepypasta on Reddit or somewhere, be my guest. This isn’t the sixteen hundreds where you just had to worry about being stabbed if these kids were carrying knives, Nicky. Kids these days are probably carrying mace and knives and I for one do not wish to spend my evening cold and covered in pepper spray.”

Nicky caught Cam mumbling especially when I could be spending my evening someplace better under his breath. “So, scaring a few juveniles is out of the picture and we both know that tonight’s another wild evening of sitting in the car watching these two were...were-” he turned to Cam. “What sort of shapeshifters are they again?”

“Bears. The husband and wife are on thin ice for apparently attacking a home intruder. They shifted into bear form while attacking her because they were afraid for their children sleeping upstairs.”

Nicky ran a hand over his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We’re dealing with the case that some of the agents are dubbing the Goldilocks Affair?”

Cam sighed. “Look, I didn’t name it. I feel bad for them, they were just defending their home.”

“Yeah, but they could have beaned her upside the head with a bat, they didn’t have to practically claw her to death. From what I heard, the Agency had to go in as a group of doctors to memory wipe her and make her believe that she was out jogging in the woods when she slipped and fell down a ravine.”

“How did they make her injuries look like she fell? I saw the file report, there were definitely bite marks involved.”

“You got me, you know how I feel about the Agency when they start doing shady shit like this.”

Cam nodded, grabbing the binoculars on the dash and looking around the area. He paused when he saw the husband stare out the window, his hand at the curtain. “I can’t believe that these people think that we’re here as security, just in case the woman has friends who figure things out and want to retaliate.” He gave a brief wave back when the man waved at them.

Nicky dug in the plastic bag full of food and pulled out a waxed package. Unwrapping it, he took a bite of the handheld fried pie inside, the chocolate filling seeping out from the edges. “I guess it’s better than them being paranoid and knowing that we’re here to look into them to make sure they don’t start making a habit of eating people in the privacy of their own home.” Nicky stretched his long legs in front of him and started tapping a wordless tune on the car’s console as he chewed. “So, you and Penny, huh?”

Cam stiffened. He was wondering how long it would take for Nicky to bring that up. It had been a few days since Cam had told Nicky of his and Penny’s relationship, and he was surprised that it took their friend this long to start to pry again. “Yes, me and Penny. I thought we went over this already.”

Nicky grinned and playfully punched him in the arm. “We went over the fact that you and her were an item, and the fact that you were going to be a prude and not tell me a single sex-related thing, but we never really went over how the two of you went from sighing and mooning over the other when you thought the other wasn’t looking to holding hands and leaving socks on doorknobs.”

He rolled his eyes. “There’s not much to explain? I asked her out to dinner and made it clear that I wasn’t asking her out as a friend. She agreed and we spent the evening talking about how much we wanted our relationship to change.”

“That,” Nicky spat, flopping in his seat and leaning his head back dramatically against the headrest, “has got to be the most boring of how I met my girlfriend stories I’ve ever heard. Where is the drama? The emotion? The sizzling lust that finally gets to ignite after years of longing?”

Cam laughed. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“This is the worst. Twenty years, I’ve waited for payoff to all the pining and this is what I get? Disgusting.”

“Well, we can’t all be you, Nicky. When are you going to tell me about you and your surprise wife?” As if by magic, Nicky’s phone lit up with a text notification from Isabela.

“Speak of the devil,” he murmured, swiping at his phone and giving the picture on his lock screen a fond smile before opening up their chat. “I told her I’d be working tonight, but she was free to text. Didn’t think that you would want to hear me whisper sweet nothings into my phone or else I would have said that it would have been okay for her to call me.”

“Thanks,” Cam deadpanned, finishing his chips and digging into the bag for the sandwich he’d bought. “But Nicolo, are you actually okay with this? I mean, the woman put a spell on you that won’t let you die, didn’t try to find you and made it impossible for you to find her when she was pregnant with your daughter, and from what you told us, stabbed you to death when you went to meet her.”

Nicky shrugged. “We all have our flaws.”

“Nicky, she killed you. You were dead on her kitchen floor. If that’s not a red flag that this relationship is toxic, I don’t know what is.”

“And I’ve been dead in many other places over the course of my life, that isn’t new.” Nicky had a faint smile on his face as he finished texting. “This, Cameron. This talking with a woman and slowly getting to know her instead of heavily flirting just to get into her bed for a brief fling? This is new.”

“And what do you think about it?”

“I don’t know yet. Part of me doesn’t want to put too much hope in this working out because I don’t want to be disappointed if the other shoe drops, but part of me does want this to work out.” He lifted his phone as it vibrated with her reply. “I’ve gotten to know my daughter, Cam. Having a family wasn’t quite the first thing on my mind back when I was still alive. I thought I had time to play around and be the romantic, but really I was just being a fool. And I’ve continued to be the fool all these years because it was easier to fall back on that aspect of my life instead of growing up.”

Cam shook his head. “Come on, Nicky, I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit. You’ve been a fine asset to this unit and there’s no one else I’d trust to have my back than you.”

“Thanks, you don’t know how much that means to me.” He looked at him. “And you know that I trust you and our team with mine. You’re my brother, Cameron, even if I am older than you by a few centuries.”

“Family is important, and I hope that whatever happens with yours works out for you.” He paused. “But really, what do you think will happen between you and Isabela? Will you ask her to come here? Would you leave the Agency?”

“I don’t know. You know how Facility life is, Cam. She’s a witch who’s had her own space for centuries, she’d hate it here.” Nicky laughed as he took another sip of his coffee. “Then again, could you see me as a civilian? I wouldn’t know what to do with myself, especially since I wouldn’t have the same salary to buy all the shiny new gadgets I can get my hands on here, not to mention having disposable income to get bespoke clothing whenever I feel like it.”

“I’ve seen stranger things, though I’ve got to admit, seeing you in a day job? That would be the weirdest sight of all. What would you even do?”

“I could always be a food critic.”

Cam snorted, but hid the sound by opening up a can of soda. “Well, whatever you decide to do, I’m sure that you would be brilliant at it.” He eyed him. “And don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not pushing you out of the unit either. I would love to have you around forever.”

“An eternity watching werebear houses and making sure that little tea shops run by witches were up to code?” Nicky drained his coffee cup and reached into the bag for an energy drink Winona would have had a conniption over if she’d been there to see him drink. . “Count me in.”

#31daysofwayhaven #my writing #Unit Charlie #cameron buchanan #nicolo morelli

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derenger · 4 years

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Growing up, parenting and gaming - Longread on life, computer games and finding yourself

This longread is dedicated to and written for all those current and former kids, who had or have troubles growing up, taking decisions, finding themselves in the world they live in, who play games independently of age and – perhaps – have not lost their love for a good game, good times and good buddies.

Perhaps it will help someone in their life. If that happens – I shall think of this writing as useful and my time writing it as not completely wasted.

The ideas have been on my mind for over 2 years now (they started getting very clear when I started doing therapy) and I have to put them on paper now.

Here it goes.

I grew up in the 90s in Eastern Europe. After the USSR collapsed millions of people found themselves without work, perspectives and means of existence. We were lucky that my dad had a good job that was paid in hard currency, however he was barely home – and by that I mean like seeing him 2 or 3 times a month.

We had good living conditions compared to others and my mom did the best she could too take care of my younger bro and me.

The first time we were exposed to computer games was when I was like 7 and my bro was 5 – in the office where the boyfriend of our aunt has been working. We played Dangerous Dave, Scorched Earth, Socoban, Digger, Civilization, The Incredible Machine and some others I do not recall the names. And of course, we liked it and it did not take long for our dad to install them on his PC at home. 2 years later my best buddy got Doom 2 installed on his PC and that was the absolute blast. We spent weeks trying to figure out how to get through level 2 and it was a big holiday when our buddy finally did.

My dad tried to restrict TV and computer time per week, so we always opted for the PC. Over time I learned to turn it on by myself and play when there was no one at home. My dad did not know.

A couple of our friends had 8bit consoles - soviet bootlegs of Super Nintendoes, with TMNT and Chip n Dale, but that was probably it. After all, we were living in a small village with not that many possibilities to make money.

When I was 10 we moved to a bigger city into a 1 room apartment. All 4 of us. This was 1996. 2 other very important things:

We started going to a far bigger school than before, where the mood was totally different from what we were used to. We were bullied and beaten, could not get along with other pupils and teachers and no one actually cared.

Father was home every day.

I mean, father was present home every day. It is not like he spent time with us doing sports or whatever. He just had any idea what to do with us as this was his first long time exposure to kids in the 11 years we were a family.

He was more of an authoritarian guy – we were not supposed to waste time in gaming clubs, listen to stupid music (Prodigy, Beastie Boys), we should have studied well, read books, have been doing sports and in general act like good kids.

We were doing some martial arts sports cause mom brought us there. We were taking music classes cause “everyone has to”. We were supposed to help out at home. We were not supposed to hang out with “bad” kid or stay outside till late hours. We were not supposed to smoke, swear and simulate illness to miss classes. We were not supposed to get into trouble.

It is not like we were putting a lot of thought into it. We just moved to the city from rural area and frankly speaking were absolutely not happy about. I guess we just went with the flow.

This was also the time when the first “gaming spot” in town opened – they had 2 Sega Mega Drives II and 1 Sony PlayStation. MK3, MK3 Ultimate, Contra Hard Cops, Golden Axe, some samurai fighting games for the Sega. SPS – Red Alert, Twisted Metal, Duke Nukem, Doom and of course – an incredible breakthrough for its time – Quake 2. And that was a revelation. I recall mom giving us money from time to time. To go play. Sega cost like 1 buck and hour, SPS – 1,5 bucks – far more expensive, so we played mainly on Sega.

At the same time we did have some games at home – Doom, Power Formula 1, Lines, the same Civilization, Lion King, Alladin, Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis, Gods and Dune 2000. Dad did not want to allow us play games. Like, at all. Don’t ask me why he never deleted the games. The PC was mainly used for him to work. So when he left home, he took the power cable of the monitor and closed it in his spare suitcase. What we did was to unplug the cable from the printer and use for the monitor. Later on he hid both cables – from the monitor and the PC in the suitcase. I found a way to open the suitcase with a very fine flat screwdriver. Mom hid the fact from our dad for a while until he noticed the suitcase was “broken”. I believe they did not speak with each other for a week. But I am still proud of the fact of cracking that suitcase! Fuck yeah!

Things started getting worse when I transferred to a lyceum - 1998. I was 12. This was like a gymnasium for hardcore science-kids, where they went deep into math and natural sciences. I was hysterical the first 2 years as I was barely making the program. Even my dad had troubles solving the math they gave us. Music classes turned to shits. I had no time nor mood for sport. But I had to keep doing it all. Just because. There were a couple of bullies in class, whose parents bribed the management of the school so that their kids would have fancy graduation papers at the end and frankly speaking no one could get a grip on them. That had me very depressed.

Around 13 I started stealing money from my parents and missing classes to go to computer clubs – their number was getting bigger every week, consoles started to disappear. Half Life, CS 1.6, Age of Empires 2, Q3, D2 1.07, Black and White, SimCity 2000, NOX, StarCraft Brood War and many other games had our full attention. The biggest part of it was the fact you could play with or against your friends! That was so fucking awesome! At the same time I started discovering sci-fi and rock music, but that is a different story.

We stole a lot of money from our parents in those times and missed a lot of classes and of course after 3 or 4 months it all got revealed. Boy oh boy our dad smoked us. That was very very tough for a kid when all the things he actually liked were taken from him. Dark times when we were seriously asking ourselves what the hell our parents wanted from us as aside from the stuff they told us to do they never really told us what was it for. Everything else was useless, stupid or waste of time.

Somehow my marks at school got better closer to graduation and I graduated almost with a medal, went to university. I remember they had this PC club with like 200 PCs and from time to time we skipped one or the other lecture to play Starcraft or CS, but very quickly boozing with buddies became the major leisure activity and pushed gaming to the back. I did pretty well at the university, made my master with excellence and that was it – 6 years flew by in a blink of an eye.

I got my own PC during the first year at the uni, played a bit of Warcraft 3, HOMM 3, Quake 3, Lineage II but it was not like I was deep into that. I remember after defending my master I spent like 3 days playing Crysis without anyone saying a word. I mean, I was through with the university. I was free!

Soon after that I went on to work abroad as a project engineer in the chemical industry.

At the moment I am doing sales engineer for a good salary in Berlin, I am married and except for the Corona and all the restrictions it brought life seems ok.

During the last 10 years of my “adult” life I have been in many different situations. I have been very sick a couple of times, running on the edge of life and death. I have been in some useless relations that only drained energy and nerves from me. I also have been diagnosed with depression and burnout at some point, did therapy and consider myself fully recovered from both. I’ll be summarizing it all below.

When I look at my life it did occur to me that gaming was far more important than just the sheer desire to shoot buddies and skip school.

Growing up under the conditions where everything is predetermined one does not really get the chance to expose your own wish. After all, my parents both come from very unhappy families and did not have the exactly best examples of parenting.

It occurred to me that they never really cared about anything we achieved – whether in school, music or sports. I recall a couple of times when I did really good, like winning the City-contest in English language or getting my first “good” in algebra in 7th grade as that shit was extremely tough. I do not recall any reaction. In fact, mom and dad put their close attention to us only when things started getting really bad, like when we were skipping classes or got arrested for setting up fireworks in a crowded place. We never really got any positive feedback for anything we did because our parents just had no idea how to do that. I do not blame them – they were trying their best from their own experience.

And gaming was the absolute opposite to all of that.

Going to computer clubs we knew exactly that we were surrounded by like-minded lads. We made some good friends along the way – lads, who were always ready to jam on de_dust or bring their D2 chars to share some loot. One of the owners of the club had a daughter who was really good in Q3 – I remember everyone has been looking at her like she was some sort of demigod. The games gave us the space and playground we needed so much – clear even rules for everyone. If you frag – you win. If you don’t – you lose. If you suck – the older guys would always help with a couple of tips. Games also gave us control. I really liked the games where you went on an adventure, like NOX or Will Rock or serious Sam. Gaming also gave us the space to take our own decisions and suffer the full consequences if these were wrong – getting overrun by zerglings or getting fragged with rocket launcher with QUAD DAMAGE.

Gaming clubs were our safe space. At some point our dad did raid the computer clubs and did bust us a couple of times. Sure we got beaten on those occasions.

I recall my bro being very proud on getting 1st in the national 2v2 ladder in SC:BW later in the uni. He also used to game the whole night long at my parents place. This was over 10 years ago and they still do not know. He is still very good in SC though he does not play anymore.

I do play sometimes – currently grinding D2 and refreshing my knowledge in chess. I do not have more time for any other more or less serious game.

I am slowly approaching the point where I should write a conclusion – it is going to be quite simple. Gaming was the first opportunity to take my life into my own hands. It took me 32 years of my own life to find the power in me to take responsibility for myself and not to rely on someone else. My decision – my choice – my consequences. It took a lot of trouble and turmoil for me to get to this point and finally embracing the power within feels great. It was also the first surrounding of dudes just like me, which was a very good feeling back then.

During the last 6 months I switched to a job that pays almost the double of my previous one, my wife moved in with me from abroad, we have a nice apartment and are looking forward to vacations in the Alps. I still have to find a way to approach my parents though I am not sure the old hive is worth disturbing. I guess time will tell.

Whenever I am down or things do no go according to play – I do turn to gaming occasionally, just to get back into the world where I am in full control. It gives me power and I guess hope that everything will work out. If not now – then over time. You just have to keep practicing. And ask for help when it is needed.

I hope you found this read interesting.

#life #gaming #adulthood #friends

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neshabeingchildish · 4 years

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League of Extraordinary Geniuses || Chapter 2

Not gonna lie, this chapter is dialogue heavy and a little rushed. Something was going on with my device where I couldn’t quite get the formatting correct and I grew impatient because this is currently the only thing I’m getting feedback on from people other than Lil’ Dynamite and so I wanted to push it out anyway, regardless of errors. I’ll probably go back and change those later. Patience isn’t my ministry. So, whatever. Thanks. Enjoy and sorry. All the platitudes you require, I give. Tagging @kiddangers @just-a-j-reallly and @sunbeameyes (Please lemme know if you wanna be taken off while you do all the stuff you’ve got going on). TW: for alcohol drinking. Idk. Sometimes, that bothers people, even if nobody’s drunk or abusing it.

I Didn’t Say Overthrow the Government

Charlotte gave the twins hugs and kisses before sending them off with their caregiver. It was just something about having access to these children that she couldn’t see them as experiments or projects, even if that was in essence what they were. And the caregiver would definitely have to shapeshift into her at times in order to calm them down, because they were extremely attached to their “mother.”

Charlotte had a work program for bionics and supers that didn’t want to be heroes. She felt like it was unfair to presume or worse, force people into positions where they had to risk themselves for the rest of the world. She knew that her previous boss had that type of childhood and he never grew up past that of a superpowered 8 year old, then he simply continued to repeat that cycle by inducting underage sidekicks and even opening a school to keep that process going.

She knew that Chase might have wanted to be something else had he not been raised and forced to be a protector. He mentioned, in passing, as though it was completely ridiculous, that when he was younger, he wanted to be an astronaut/lawyer. He laughed at his expense, until Charlotte wondered, “Why didn’t you do it?” He stared at her as though the question was ludicrous, so she had to tack on, “I have the credentials to be quite a few things that some might laugh at, and you definitely are more than qualified to be an astronaut lawyer, if that’s what you want.” He gave a little chuckle and moved on with the subject.

That was actually the thing that compelled her towards a new project. She loved new projects, because even though it kept her busy, it opened up her brain for new opportunities to touch the world in an impactful way. She went live on her page the next day and asked supers and bionics, “If you could do ANYTHING ELSE in the world, right now, what would it be? I know that some of you have certain abilities that have made it to where you have focused in on using that gift to help the world, but… What if you had the means and the opportunity to do something else? What would you do?” She read all of the comments and in the same conversation made a decision, “You know what… I feel very moved by a lot of these testimonies. So, this is what I’m going to do…” She created an email address and shared it with the viewers and posted it to her website, “I am going to have everyone who is interested in transitioning from an imposed future that revolves around your ability to a career or even just a hobby that you would love to get into to email me so that I can try to figure out how to make a some of these things happen.”

The number of “I STAN!” comments she received were nothing in comparison to the amount of mail that she got. She had a guy named Bob that she heard went to the academy on Bionic Island who had super strength, but was very gentle and hated having to fight. That was exactly the type of person she was trying to seek out. She had Chase introduce her to this guy… he was sweet, but by God, he was not bright. Sort of reminded her of her best friend, Jasper, in that regard. And it hit her! Jasper! “Hey, Jasp… I’ve got this bionic guy named Bob. He doesn’t want to have to be out on missions. He doesn’t like fighting. He’s very nice, but not that smart and he really doesn’t have a lot of skills beyond mission training and superstrength.”

“We ABSOLUTELY could use someone with super strength around here. I can teach him some maintenance stuff to help out around the lair and the shelter while he finds himself and figures out what he wants to do. Henry’s been enrolling in adult classes at the Vision Institute. Bob could maybe do that?” Jasper said.

“Yes, I’m definitely getting him in touch with an advisor, but I was more like checking to see if you had an empty room to put the guy up in and also if you could maybe mentor him a little along the way, since you have a lot in common?” Charlotte said. Jasper gave her ideas that she was already in the process of setting up, but a support system would be a huge part in these transitions. A lot of people who went to the Vision Institute went for the reason it was created - to figure out exactly what they wanted to do with their life now that their brains were fully formed and they were adults who realized that they had spent all of their lives going in directions that they were pulled in, instead of where their minds led them.

NOW, she had to try to get a more nuanced system in place for those bionics and supers who suffered the same existential crisis, but with the added pressure that they HAD to do whatever direction they were pulled in because, “the world depended on them.” Know who else the world depended on? Caretakers and caregivers, and Charlotte found a perfect shape shifting one who just wanted to be able to look after kids and stuff. She was bionic, so she definitely had been trained and conditioned to fight and protect, but now she was able to play with a couple of adorable babies who turned into adorable puppies AND, she would be able to help them hone their shifting, whenever they were ready for it! Charlotte loved that for her. She loved that Bob might be able to live out his dreams. She loved that she put things in motion to help people be happier and more successful and safe.

The twins were gone to the cottage, which was where they generally stayed, since the castle was fairly new and Charlotte wasn’t even there a lot of the time. With having the guys there, it would be easier anyway.

She came back inside to Max coming from his guest quarters and almost immediately asking, “Do bionics have twin powers?” She froze and folded her arms, thinking. She didn’t know and he didn’t either, so they both rushed to her desk to work on figuring out if they could figure that out.

Chase surfaced later, and found the two of them walking around one in one of Charlotte's famous theory rooms, which was a room with the walls covered in notes and models hanging from the ceiling, and spots where it was clear that experiments were done. It was sort of like if a lab didn’t have everything that was needed to do the work, but had everything that was needed to get to the work. Chase had seen the one that she had in her Dystopia home and the one in the Defender Dome, but this one was bigger, but less used. She and Max went to hover above a model with little figures of people and the scene of what looked like Centium City. “Good afternoon. I made a late start. I think that something is wrong with the guest capsule,” Chase said.

“Do you feel rested and like you’ve had the best sleep ever?” Charlotte wondered.

“As a matter of fact, yes!”

“Then, how could there be something wrong with it?” She asked, rhetorically, not turning her attention away from the model.

Max asked, “Hey, Bionic Boy, do bionic twins have the ability to tap into twin powers?”

Charlotte gasped and said, “I didn’t even THINK about just asking Chase, and we went through that whole thing earlier only to come out as inconclusive.”

“What are twin powers?” Chase asked. Now, Charlotte and Max looked up from the current tangent/theories that they were mulling through to stare at Chase. He smiled awkwardly. “You know what, I’ll just look it up,” he said and touched his finger to the side of his face. “Okay… um.. No, I don’t think so. It would most likely have to be programmed into the coding for their chips. Kind of like my override, but like… something mutual that becomes something else.”

“The mystery kinda dies with that, doesn’t it?” Max asked Charlotte, disappointed. “Well, at any rate… Definitely gonna work on twin powers for the Swagger Twins,’ Max said, into his phone, recording.

Charlotte added in a smol voice, “They is good boys and they deserve!” Max looked at her, absolutely smitten and smiled.

Chase watched with some judgment. He knew that Charlotte frequently switched up for who she needed to be, whenever she needed to be it. The Charlotte that she was with her best friends, the professional in a business meeting, the one that had to deal with Mr. Davenport, and so on. This one was new to him, and if he didn’t know any better… he’d say that this one was into Max. There was obviously some type of inside joke there with the strange voice and the grammatically incorrect phrasing, but the smile that Max gave her made him… irritable. “Are we doing some work today? Anything that I can latch on to?”

“Oh! Yes… We were actually just having a discussion about roleplaying, chess, and boardgames,” Charlotte counted off on her fingers. “We’ve been determining - out of the bionics worlds and the supers worlds, which heroes would be which characters or pieces.”

“We keep on switching and changing between chess and DND, because neither of us is making a list. Making a list might cut into the creative juices and this is all for fun…” Max added on. Chase knew all about chess and Dungeons and Dragons, though that was because Mr. Davenport had casually mentioned it one day and of course, it only took him a few moments to research and memorize it all, but he still hadn’t had the chance to ever play it. Charlotte and Max were talking about this current train of thought, until Chase projected a hologram for them, with a chess board and a diagram that he was creating in progress, split screen with the chess board as he explained, and went through all of the bionic people he knew from the database, where they would be on a chess board and why.

He blinked it away when he was done and offered, “I’m not as hip to DND, but I have some ideas…”

“Um, no… Let’s discuss whatever that set up was!” Max said, practically cheering. “You can do cool shit like that, and you… just don’t? You could be fanboy famous with that gift!” Chase blushed a little and Charlotte smiled at this and at Max’s enthusiasm for that display. “You honestly should take that online.”

“But, it doesn’t fit the Chase Davenport brand that Mr. Davenport approved,” Chase said, coming closer into the room.

“Who is Mr. Davenport?” Max asked, looking between the two of them, then gasped and asked, “Wait, is that what you call your Dad? Uncle? Dude?” Max started laughing and shook his head, “You’re ONLY supposed to do that when you’re a corny dude at a fancy meeting and you say the cliche phrase, “Mr. Davenport is my father.”

“Well… that’s what we call him,” Chase said, annoyed, again. Max backed off and went back to their current mind game…

There was definitely still tension, and Max and Chase were being cordial, but it was clear that they still weren’t sold on one another, so Charlotte decided that maybe after a good day of mental stimulation, a few small experiments, a nice meal and some fine drinks, she could talk to them about the future.

So, after all of that, they retired to the lounge, and she poured wine, lit candles and played easy listening music overlayed on nature sounds. Chase smiled, comfortably and announced, “This is a very satisfying lounge.” Honestly, she was setting it more for him than for Max, so that was good feedback for her.

“I was thinking about something,” she said and picked up her wine glass. “I was thinking about a couple of years ago whenever I started trying to open doors for people who didn’t want to be reduced to their bionics or superpowers. People who just wanted to be people and enjoy their lives whether or not they could fly or breathe underwater… I couldn’t help but to think about it today and the fact that neither of you ever really said anything about wanting to do something else besides be heroes.”

Max narrowed his eyes suspiciously and took a drink of wine. “Gross. I’m raiding your liquor cabinet,” he said, put down his wine and telekinetically collected a few bottles of brown liquor and three shot glasses to himself.

“Well, I can’t speak for Max, but there really isn’t another option for me,” Chase smelled the wine and took a sip. It was good. How could Max not enjoy it? It was a very excellent year and a perfect aroma…

“But, there ARE though. Today alone, you proved that you could, if you wanted to, create an online presence for fandoms - which don’t give me that look could be extremely successful! - make exciting and fun games, excel in theoretical physics, improve mission suits and super suits, recreate the Internet with better accessibility and less monopolizing, if you wanted to, and like.. Several other things, and that was just today!” She insisted.

Max took a shot of whiskey and poured another, “You want one?” He asked Chase, knowing that whatever Charlotte was about to say, this uptight Chase dude was gonna feel some type of way about it.

“I’ve never had it before…” Chase said, a little leery. Max floated over the shot glass and Chase received it, smelled it and winced. To Charlotte, he said, “Yeah, I enjoyed doing all of that stuff in the theory room, but in real life, I have commitments and obligations…”

“That The Dom forced upon you,” she mentioned, taking a sip of her wine.

“That! That’s what I know that dude as.” He snickered under his breath and mumbled, “Mr. Davenport.”

Chase threw him a short glare, took a sip of the whiskey and groaned, then dropped the shot glass, but Max caught it and floated it back up. “That’s disgusting! Get it away from me! People DRINK this? On purpose??”

“You’re supposed to shoot it, Dude. Like this,” Max demonstrated, blew out a deep breath and nodded, “Then, give it a moment, and it runs through you and feels warm and good.”

“It feels like poison,” Chase said, grabbing the floating shot glass. But, Charlotte had it in her home and Max had just had two, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as the initial taste. He shot it like Max did and slammed the shot glass down, breathing hard and shaking his head, “I’ve decided that I am not a whiskey man.”

“Fair enough,” Max said, smirking.

Chase used his own molecular kinesis to put the shot glass away, then told Charlotte, “I thought that you had accepted that I’ve accepted that this is what I’m doing with my life…”

She furrowed her eyebrows and wondered, “Why did you think that? Chase, you were my motivation to start liberating supers and bionic people from destinies written out for them, so I don’t accept you accepting that, unless you’re accepting it because it’s what you want and not what you believe you should be doing!”

“What’s wrong with keeping a purpose that you’ve already been given?” Chase asked her, looking at her extremely hard and starting to kinda feel what Max was talking about, with the whiskey.

“Nothing… Unless… The person that gave it to you wasn’t qualified to create it for you. Davenport is a genius. We can’t take that away from him. But, he’s not a god and he isn’t infallible. His purpose for you makes A LOT of sense and helps a lot of people, but that doesn’t mean that it’s perfect or shouldn’t be challenged.”

“No, but me trying to do something just to be happy whenever what I do now actually saves lives… I mean… You’re a utilitarian, Charlotte. Does that seem like a better world to you? One where I’m creating games or… Or… being an Internet personality or whatever?”

“She didn’t say that you couldn’t still save the world, Man. I think she’s more like, thinking about the fact that you spend all of you life and make all of your decisions within those confines that Davenport put on you and nothing else. You could have been enjoying things like you did today, instead you’re like… such a Davensnore when you come out of the mission suit. You can save the world and still be your own human,” Max said. Then chuckled again and repeated, “Davensnore. Put it on the books, Folks. That’s his name now.”

“That’s not his name!” Charlotte said, but chuckling at little. “But, he’s right about everything else. IF you accept that what you want is to be a bionic savior and do that, then of course, I support that. But, you seemed so lighthearted and fulfilled today, exercising your smarts for fun and also coming up with very great ideas too, and maybe you’re meant to be a different kind of hero. I feel like I’m a hero and I definitely rarely hit a battlefield personally.”

“You DO! But… You’re not like me,” Chase said.

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?” Max asked, sitting up straight

“Just that she was able to grow up with the mentality that you can be what you want to be and do what you want to do and everyone will support it and motivate you, instead of put you in a box.”

“I WHAT?” Charlotte asked, putting her glass down.

“Now, you’re in trouble,” Max said, with a smile.

Chase’s eyes were wide with apprehension of whatever Charlotte was going to say next, but instead of saying anything, she just stared at him, in disappointment. God. That HAD to be worse than whatever he thought she was going to say. She looked so betrayed and let down and he wished that she would just tell him where he messed up at so that he could bring about a solution. Instead, she simply stared at him and thought her explosion inside of her mind...

“I know that you grew up in a basement, so normally, I’d let you slide on that, but you have learned too much history, have read too many books, and have an entire two black female humans in your immediate family and one male counterpart, as well. You have to know on some type of level that that statement you just made is NOT true at all and even now, today, with the things that both of us have accomplished in our own ways, IF you had accomplished the things that I have accomplished, do you know how much more well received and adored that you would be? Have you SEEN some of the criticisms against me and compared and contrasted it with what you get? Have you done the same with the compliments? I’m in your corner, Dude. Don’t… downplay my stuff because you don’t like what I’m saying. If that’s how it’s gonna be, forget that I asked you to venture into this with me.”

“Well,” she said after five full minutes, Chase noted almost right on the dot. He had upset her SO MUCH, that she just “took a five” and used it to stare at him in upset. It kinda made him miserable. He NEEDED her to say something to him about it. Even now, she didn’t. She picked her wine glass up, shot the rest and pointed at Max, “The scotch, please.”

“Coming right up,” he said, telekinetically pouring the shot and sent it to her. "By the way, what's this venture you and me are doin'? You still hadn't said."

Chase was quiet, mulling over the things that were unsaid while the other two talked.

Charlotte was a little flustered, but brightened up as soon as Max asked her about her idea. "I want to find and collect people like us, those who can and could change the world if only they didn't have significant barriers to doing so. I want to find and gather as many of us as I can, help to guide them in the right direction and with all of our combined intelligence, hard work and determination, we can undo our current, flawed system and rebuild a new and improved one that will benefit everybody."

"You… want to overthrow the government?" Chase tried to clarify.

"I want the government to be changed into something that makes sense and is run by smart and capable representatives, and works for the people in it."Chase looked really bothered and so she explained, "For far too long, the system has been slanted.. it was created by men who were all in the same type of station, with the same interests and they made a system that has been benefiting them and almost exclusively them for so long that it is DEBATABLE for anyone else to have a fair shake. I think, if we really want to change the world and save some lives, we've gotta change the foundation. Just like with Dystopia, but like… farther and wider."

”You had me at “overthrow the government.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You… did. You just used way too many words when you said it.”“Well, I meant enhance life for the people.”

Chase interjected, unsure if she knew what she was suggesting here, “You CAN’T without overthrowing the government!!”

“That sounds like the government’s problem,” Max said, taking his last shot of the night. (He knew his limit).

Charlotte now got up to sit next to Chase and look right at him, the most serious and concerned look on her face that he had ever seen before and he knew that this meant a lot to her and that she needed it to mean something to him too. Something good. He wasn’t FEELING that this could actually lead to something good, but he WANTED to feel what she seemed to want him to feel as she spoke, “Don’t you hate the fact that this country, this WORLD is constantly at war, people are always going without, someone is always oppressed, and almost everybody doesn’t have what they need not just to be happy, but to survive? And who is to blame for it? It shouldn’t be us, but it usually is. Scientists need to find a way. Doctors still haven’t found a cure, etc, so on and so forth. When people like us work beside or even worse BENEATH clueless ingrates who see us as their smart… equipment. And you two understand this more than my previous team. The world does read you a certain way, but also, when they know what you are, they let their biases slip in. They don’t trust bionic humans any more than they do androids. And supers? Not if they don’t know every single solitary fact about that individual and still, they keep them at bay. I don’t feel like I should have to speak about or make a list of my struggles with this place. It. Has. To. Change. We have to try to change it. We’re qualified to and if that isn’t being a hero and saving the world, I guess I just don’t know what is. I don’t want the future to be as oppressive as the present. The world isn’t in God’s hands. It’s in the hands of the smart and the brave.”

Chase nodded his head, “I... have to think about it. I mean.. How would it work? Are you just compiling a genius database and visiting them like some type of secret society and just inducting them and giving them this speech, or...?”

“Pretty much just like that, Sir,” she said, with a little shrug of her shoulders.”But, do think about it.” She stood up and Max stood up as well. “See you tomorrow,” she said. “I’m going to go unwind.” Max stretched and grabbed the bottles from the table to move to sit closer to Chase, who looked confused as to why Max was moving next to him. Charlotte went through the corridor that passed through her courtyard to go inward to her quarters.

“Sure you don’t want anymore?” Max asked.

Chase furrowed his eyebrows and wondered, “You said that I was in trouble... What is it that you know that I don’t about what I said?”

Max scoffed out a little laugh and shook his head, “Have you never read one book about racial injustice or the lingering effects of chattel slavery in America?”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with - Ohhhhhhhhhhh.”

“You basically just told one of the most historically subjugated and mistreated persons in the nation that she had more privilege than you and the unspoken presumption, that her privilege was why she wanted to take this on.”

“Do you think she’s mad at me for it?”

“I think you hurt her feelings,” Max said. “A genuine apology goes a long way, though.”

“I’ll talk too her tomorrow.” They were quiet for a while, then Chase wondered, “Are you really on board with this? You’re answer is undoubtedly yes, to this idea of hers?”

“Yeah. Not like she asked me to rip out my own heart and throw it at a politician. She’s talking about moving silently to help fix things that a lot of powerful people are often loud and wrong about and STILL gain support. Whatever side of history Charlotte is ever on, I’ll always know its the right side.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But, you’ve gotta do what makes Chase Davensbore happy.”

“I thought it was Davensnore?” Chase said.

Max shrugged his shoulders. “It’s both, Bionic Boy. You’re super bland.”

“Your ego is unwavering.”

“I talk like this ‘cause I can back it up,” Max said.

“I can too, and I don’t act like this!”

Max furrowed his eyebrows and wondered, “You don’t know Beyonce song references when you hear them?” He suddenly sat upright and looked right at Chase, like he had something very urgent that just happened. Chase sat up, equally as urgently, in reflex alone, only to have Max ask, “You do know who Beyonce is, right?”

Chase sank back into the seat and sighed, “Ugh. Of course I do... I just don’t know her catalog that well...”

“Just as shameful. I’m going to bed. You’d better apologize to Charlotte.”

“Of course, I will!” Chase snapped and whenever Max was gone, he got up and went to find her. Things were easier to communicate between them without “her other friend,” around. He was convinced that there never would have been any weird miscommunication without Max there, but it didn’t matter now. He was big enough to admit when he was wrong, and even if he wasn’t, in his mind... Charlotte was worth putting himself aside for a moment. Was she worth taking on the world, though? The status quo? He found her on the terrace, wind blowing through her curls. Her silhouette doing nothing more than watching the moon shine down on her and still looking like music. Is she worth it? Yes. Yes, she is.

#Henry Danger #Lab Rats #The Thundermans #Chasing Thunderbolts Fic #League of Extraordinary Geniuses #LOEG Update #Nesha Fics #Multiverse Fics

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meggannn · 5 years

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Thoughts and analysis on Gen. Armstrong (if you don't mind)

oh absolutely. a lot of this is speculation on my part, but it’s just my reading and theories on how she kind of came to be who she is.

so i vibe with armstrongs being a very traditional, patriarchal family in a very old-fashioned country. they had four daughters, olivier being the oldest and (arguably) most capable, but alex, the second youngest kid but only son, was the one chosen to lead the family. i think that olivier carried a lot of the burdens of being the oldest sibling and oldest daughter.

maybe olivier was the first daughter in the armstrong family in a long list of sons? i like that idea because it kind of has the opportunity harden her to the world as a kid, in my mind. a lot of excitement for the firstborn in an illustrious family, and… it’s a girl. ugh. okay, well, we’ll try again.

except i think olivier really decided to just start doing whatever she thought a male firstborn would get to do, taking her studies seriously, preparing to be the armstrong heir, and her family just kinda sighed and didn’t take her seriously. when she joins the military, i am going to bet that she either had to fight for it, or there was a lot of familial backlash/tsking between her parents because ~a woman shouldnt be in the army~ (i am operating under the belief she’s the only female officer to ever make it to general, because to my recollection i don’t think we’ve ever seen another female officer as high or higher than her). and when alex follows her to the military years later, i’m going to bet she was L I V I D when their parents were like “well of course, he’s the oldest son, he’s going to make us proud.” there were screaming matches of epic proportions when she joined, and when he does, it’s all fine. (even alex as an adult isn’t entirely rid of sexism when he asks when she’s ever gonna change her attitude so she can get a husband. and when she challenges his right to head the family, he arguably loses because he underestimated her. although i’m also going to chalk part of that up to the fact that although alex wanted to head the family, he didn’t NEED to win as badly as olivier needed to, because she needed to kick their family out and use the mansion to house her troops to prepare for the promised day. that’s the kind of person she is, “i need this to happen and so it will happen, i will give myself no other option.”)

i don’t think that olivier is the kind of person who pushes her limits to try to “prove” anything to other people; maybe she started by trying to mostly prove it to herself, but it eventually just became who she is. no nonsense. very protective, but maybe tired of taking care of kids/siblings. highly capable, very savvy. perfect for briggs. i think she takes her role as their leader VERY seriously. she knows she’s earned it, and up north defending the border, she sees how every person matters.

i’ve always wondered if there’s something in how olivier is stationed at briggs, the furthest possible post away from central. i don’t think it’s to get away from anything, exactly; it does seem like the best job suited for her. i think partly this represents her physical distance and distain for politics: she clearly looks down on mustang, possibly because he’s a state alchemist, and maybe part of it is for his reputation of being an annoying flirt who can charm his way up the ranks while maybe she had to fight for every rank she earned, though i think also part of it is because she thinks he’s naive to join the very system he’s trying to abolish. but as we see in late show, she’s not terrible at the politics and backstabbing, i think she just doesn’t like to deal with bullshit. she’s a very blunt person. she’ll play chess if she has to, clearly, but when she pulls the sword on the room full of officers, you know she’s been waiting MONTHS to do that.

she also doesn’t like alchemy. i’ve always wondered if there’s a reason behind this – the wiki says “she views [equivalent exchange] as a mindset promoting easy handouts and unnecessary compromise” so i’m guessing she doesnt like philosophies that base themselves around quid pro quo agreements, especially since it leads very easily to corruption. the armstrongs are a very noble family that take that sort of thing seriously. i think she’s smart enough to realize alchemy is often NECESSARY, but the state alchemists themselves are… ugh. difficult to deal with and probably almost always really bossy. and think they’re so fuckin special. and also all male. so it’s no wonder she doesn’t give a shit about edward elric, some kid who shows up with no warning with a letter from her annoying brother, asking for her help.

so already she has a chip on her shoulder about alex: he’s a younger sibling she had to take care of; he’s a younger BROTHER who got more support and fewer roadblocks than she did for achieving (or even wanting) the same things way before he ever did; he’s also an alchemist, and state alchemist. she’d see that as annoying at best and borderline dishonorable at worst.

and then ishval.

so for the record, i fully believe that by the events of canon, olivier’s intense disgust for alex for his “cowardly” actions in ishval is mostly, if not entirely, an act. i think it’s EASY for her to act like it’s real, because she struggles with real feelings of hostility and annoyance toward alex for the reasons above, and she WOULD probably think he’s a poor soldier for defying orders…… but would she openly advocate for genocide? she’s not perfect, but i don’t think that of her. but she lets absolutely none of that internal questioning show on the outside. externally? “my brother is a disgrace. he failed to protect this country. if i were head of the family, i’d dishonor him publicly.” and alex, you know, i think he sees past this, a little? he knows she has to say these things otherwise she’d lose her reputation and might also be demoted, given she’s on a rickety foundation as a woman general as is. she doesn’t have to be so passionate about her opinions, but she might also have gained a target on her back by his actions in ishval; maybe they’d assume she had ishvallan sympathies because he was her brother. so she’s already got enough baggage against alex, and he inadvertently dumps some more political bullshit on her back just because he didn’t do his job. i think she’d say the things she did to distance herself from alex, not because she’s angry with him or disappointed in him (though there is a bit of that, but for unrelated reasons), to keep her position. she’s very ruthless politically. you could question the morality of this, like i do, but i don’t entirely blame her for feeling like she could lose her position as the only female general in charge of defending a politically hot border position.

fma has a rather annoying “we don’t see color” attitude wrt race at times, but in the case of olivier, whose attitude after all the years in briggs is “we literally cannot afford to be prejucide, there are so few capable people here, and if someone works, they are part of the team and will be treated with respect, full stop” it makes sense why she’d say what she said to miles. it’s not that i think she’s an ishvallan activist behind the scenes because of her lieutenant, but i think she knows the “war” was complete horseshit and fully respects his bitter feelings toward the amestrian government.

privately, though, i think olivier knows clearly that this country is messed up, before “the shape of this country.” but she has a very powerful family, and it’s hard to completely renounce that dedication. she still loves amestris a lot. she feels very protective of the people she’s defending, even if she doesn’t like them very much.

i respect that she swallows her pride, gives up briggs, and joins the political battle in central when it becomes clear that that’s the best way to get to the center of the matter. imo she and roy mustang teaming up, unnoticed, in the heart of the beast could have made an amazing combo, but ofc she’d never let that happen lmao. she is a good person without being a nice person. that’s refreshing. she’s ruthless, pragmatic, ambitious, angry, untrusting, and kind of an asshole, and yet you never doubt that she is, at heart, honorable and trustworthy. she will tell you what she thinks of you. she hates lying. but she will cave and do what the people of amestris needs her to do; we see she IS able to separate her government from her country. i think she always knew, but the events of the show are kind of her “put up or shut up” moment to stand up and show where her loyalties really are, and she delivered. she’d be offended if you ever even thought she might choose differently.

i love olivier a lot because she doesn’t have an arc in the traditional sense; her personality and position don’t change much from the time we meet her to the last time we see her. her biggest change is that she lets herself show pride in her brother, or maybe she’s able to admit that she’s proud of him in the first place. i think for her, that’s enough. i also really, really like that she’s not shown as someone who NEEDS to change. she’s allowed to be an angry, confident, strong woman in charge of a fort who likes things the way she likes them and expects you bend to her rules in her fort or you will leave. i think it’s a great accomplishment and testament to the writing and acting to show that she is not nice, and not always likable, but you never question she is a good person.

#olivier mira armstrong #Anonymous #askbox #megan talks about fma

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funkymbtifiction · 5 years

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IDK who I am?

Ok so this is kind of a whole ass mess, I started off with a question that would make it a useful read for everyone and not a waste of time, but it ended up being a bit of a personal advice question so I hope that’s ok.

What would cause unhealthiness in a type? Most of the time, i feel like i’m a healthy ENTP, but multiple arguments with my ESFJ (or ESTJ?) mom have caused me to seriously doubt myself in many ways over the years. I read that an unhealthy ENTP can be argumentative, unwilling to drop arguments, etc. These are all things my mom tells me I do, along with not taking responsibility and making excuses. I’m 18 now and we don’t argue that much but we did a lot when I was around 13-15 and kind of, ya know, going through it as teenagers do. And since my mom has basically always used these same digs at me, I’ve assumed that maybe that’s the reason that it really hurts whenever those same digs are brought up now, and basically I have a lot of self doubt and am insecure about being an immature version of my type (because that would mean that i’ve been in the wrong in so many instances in my life if everything my mom says about me is true, and i think that sentence in itself proves my mom right in that i don’t like taking accountability.) As I’m typing this, I’m wondering if maybe that fear of being an unhealthy version of my type or admitting my faults could be related to enneagram ?? Anyways, I know that nobody’s perfect and can definitely appear even worse especially in conflict, I just sometimes wonder if i’m unhealthy or a completely different type altogether. That’s another thing, I’m always trying to find an answer to things, but have a hard time settling on just one. This could be another reason for my self-doubt. I guess my question, after that exhausting story, is WHY? I go back and forth between caring or not caring about personality type, but I’m in a particular stage right now where i care and really just wanna know why i am the way i am (i’m in a bit of desperate state of mind rn lol.) I don’t know if i gave enough info for you to answer this, but what causes me to fear failure so much? Does it have to do with being raised by an ESxJ? Or is it related to enneagram? Or something else altogether? Also, am i even an entp?? you’d probably need to know more about me, but from the way I wrote this, could you give me anything? I’m asking for so much right now, I’d honestly be annoyed at me. But I’ve been so unsure about so many things lately and I just want one thing in my life I can be at least a little more sure about.

I’m sorry you are in a place of feeling like you aren’t sure who you are; if it helps, most people who embark on MBTI journeys face that, sooner or later. And it often precedes a period of self-understanding that helps you find your type, because you start focusing on how you respond to things and how you get things done, rather than what others are telling you about yourself, and linking that to specific functions.

So much hyper-focus on what your mom says about you either indicates you are a high feeler (FJ seems more reasonable than FP at this point, since it’s not about defending self from the outside world, but wondering if what others say about you is true; but if you are sure of Ne-dom, I’d look into ENFP also) or in a Fe-loop. EFJs often mistype as ETPs at first, because they don’t realize how much they lack a specific sense of self, because their entire identity is built on how others perceive, relate to, and speak to them. If this has been a persistent concern for as long as you can remember, consider EFJ (most ETPs at your age care way less what others think, and way more about how they can ‘use’ them to get what they want, since Fe is just a tool for them and not a place of ‘being’).

If you are an ENTP, you sound as if you are in a Fe-related loop, excessively ruminating on others’ external views of you and causing you to wonder if you are really the irresponsible jerk they tell you that you are. To break this loop, you need to get back into Ti and return to building inner frameworks of logical understanding and consistency. Your natural, healthy tendency will be to notice flaws in arguments, belief systems, and logical inconsistencies, and point them out to yourself and others. You should be learning ‘how things work,’ and not worrying so much ‘how others are reacting to me.’

To gain a better understanding of oneself, you need to put your mother’s criticisms into perspective. Is she the sort of person who finds something harsh and critical to say about everyone, all the time? Or is it just you? What is the objective truth in her digs? Can you come up with specific examples of you doing the things she is accusing you of, or is it just generalization on both your part?

Immature (and at 18, you can’t be anything else, cognitively) ETPs are prone to not taking personal responsibility for themselves and making excuses about it, yes. Ti can rationalize, argue, avoid, and shift responsibility away from self (a natural behavior of unhealthy Fe) rather than simply admit, “What I did was wrong, and I’m sorry.” Arguing, for an ETP, is like breathing – they are so good at it, and so self-assured of thinking up an excuse for everything they do in order to justify their “what I want” based thinking, they forget that their “fun banter” is actually seen as “aggressive behavior” from feeling types. (Sherlock is a great example of what I am talking about.)

If you think your mom has a point, and you can come up with times when you did avoid taking personal responsibility, you have a choice – to work on next time refusing to give an excuse, humbling yourself and admitting you didn’t do what you were supposed to do, or you were selfish and ate the last bag of chips in the house, or whatever else she “gets on you” for. You can also start taking “adult initiative” and doing “mature” things around the house, to show her you are taking responsibility for your stuff, your chores, your bills, etc. The only way to convince an ESJ that you are a mature adult is to consistently act like one and show them you are being responsible with your decisions. Part of being a mature adult, regardless of type, is admitting when you are wrong and taking responsibility for the problems/pain you cause.

If she is criticizing / nitpicking needlessly, analyze her and think about her reasons why she might be doing this, or feels the need to bring others down, or is being “hard” on you in particular. There are many factors that go into people’s behaviors. Do you remind her of someone she used to know, who went the wrong way in life, and is she associating your behaviors with that person’s downward path? High Si’s are prone to instant sensory comparisons of that nature. SJs are also highly responsible people, very driven, who have a specific idea of “how the world works,” and how YOU will have to be, to succeed in it. (IE, 9/5 job, be responsible, buy car insurance, save for retirement, take care of your family, etc). This is how and why they clash with the “when I see it, I’ll know I want to do it, and do it for awhile, and then find something else to do” fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants EP types.

With parents, it’s also important to remember their bias. Their opinion of you is just their opinion. What matters more out in the world is what your boss, your coworkers, and other people who have a direct financial impact on you as an adult in the workforce think of you. Your parents have watched you grow up. Seen all the good and bad things. Things that do not matter at all in the workforce, and that nobody knows about, outside the family. Things that do not have to ‘define you’ as an adult. EJ parents can also have a lot of trouble transitioning from being “parent” to “friend” – she is used to being your “mom.” So, prove her wrong. What can you do to show her you’re an adult?

You might also be an Enneagram 9 or 6 (both, Tritype-wise, is likely) which is messing with your ability to have a concrete sense of self.

Once you’re in college, your functions will show clearer. Heavy school work / an environment where you need to please peers and teachers will bring out lower functional development.

- ENFP Mod

#question

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jcmorrigan · 4 years

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//Oh!, ok, got it. I take almost everything literally, and don't understand idioms, metaphors, expressions, slang, certain jokes, and/or figurative language, sorry. //I've never seen the show, I've heard( that) it's bad though. If so, why?

Duly noted!

Okay, so the thing is, my memories of it aren’t clear. I know I did watch it as a child, since I was a 90s kid. It was never really something I...bothered to remember. I was more into Chip & Dale: Rescue Rangers as a kiddo (though somehow that one hasn’t held up to me as well on a rewatch; it kinda feels like a lesser version of Darkwing Duck and I never got past the pilot)

I had completely forgotten about it, and then all of a sudden I’m watching a review by a certain Internet critic who I am ashamed to admit I used to like watching (because people yelling at things that don’t make sense is my kind of humor; don’t worry, I stopped with him and instead just focused on the likes of Mozenrath and other fictional characters who would do exactly that), and he brings up Shnookums & Meat and I just go “IT WASN’T A DREAM. THAT WAS REAL.”

I admittedly haven’t actually watched it since...25+ years ago, but on principle, the thing is, it’s obviously a clone of Ren & Stimpy. It can’t be coincidence that while that show was at its peak, Disney decided to do a slapstick comedy series about a cat and a dog who sort of liked each other.

Am I defending R&S? No. I HATE that show and everything it stands for. I have a pretty high tolerance for cartoon hijinks that can be offputting or violent (The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy is one of my favorite cartoons to this day), but every single R&S clip I’ve seen feels...off. And I think I’m feeling the negative energy that radiates off John K. wherever he goes; I have heard horror stories about how he talks about women and his ego in what tropes he thinks he “invented” in animation. Also the fact that they tried to revive R&S as a show specifically way raunchier tells me quite a bit about what the spirit of it was at the core (compare and contrast: Samurai Jack’s final season was also TV-MA, but instead of crudeness, this was used to be able to up the stakes, have Jack deal with the topic of mortality, show carnage to depict the villains’ reach, have some edgy jokes that aren’t OOC for the characters involved, and yes, depict some sexual tension between a loving couple. SJ proves that the problem isn’t in suddenly making your show more adult, but in HOW YOU DO THAT).

So back to Shnookums & Meat, and unfortunately I am forced to type out that title each time because Disney never got that its abbreviation was “S&M”? You’d think that wouldn’t have cleared production. But anyway. This is the 90s, when Disney’s image as family-friendly and wholesome entertainment is in full swing. Meanwhile, Boomers absolutely HATE R&S. It only gets its popularity from the kids, and though I can’t speak to what percentage of that popularity rode solely on the shock-value factor, it was definitely a sizeable percentage. Disney’s already in the lead with the parents here. If they want to win this war, all they have to do is continue making shows with simple-yet-unique premises (along the lines of “Scrooge McDuck travels around the world having adventures”) with goofy banter, charismatic characters, and this same image of wholesome fun. Easy, right?

Except SOMEBODY in the writers’ room steps forward and legitimately pitches “We need to make a copycat show of that horrible one our target audience’s parents ban them from watching.” AND THIS GOT APPROVED, SOMEHOW

And I mean maaaaaybe Shnookums & Meat is the actual better version of R&S with good dialogue and far less discomfort? But the fact that it exists at all on the worst premise it could possibly have just makes me feel embarrassment rising even acknowledging its existence.

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dokidoki-tae · 5 years

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Hey! I really like your blog so far! I was wondering if you also do some sad/angst stuff... how would each member of la squadra react to finding out they have a little daughter (like 5 or 6 yrs old) that they didn't know about? And then meeting her? Thanks!

Hello! So I will break this into individual parts throughout the next couple of weeks since they are turning out longer than I thought. I will post them one by one! First, we have Risotto!

Risotto: He never thought he’d be back in hometown inSicily especially so soon. It had been a little over 5 years since he had lefteverything behind. When he was assigned an assignment to take out a targethere, he wanted to pass it on to someone else, but the situation called for him.Evidently, almost nothing had changed, only a few new businesses had poppedup and some of his favorite stores he loved visiting as a child had closed down. Hedidn’t have the luxury of walking around in the open; he would stand out toomuch and be recognized. Using Metallica to cloak himself in case he needed togo out, other than that he had to hide out in his motel room until his mission wascomplete. This whole assignment had Risotto convinced Boss was doing this tospite him in hopes to bring up old memories. Boss doesn’t know much aboutRisotto or his stand, but he does know where Risotto originates from. He probablyexpects the assassin to “feel” something “nostalgic” from this trip. Begrudgingly,old memories stirred up for Risotto, memories of the family he abandoned. A smallprice to pay to avenge the murdered child of his cousin. It wasn’t like Risottohad many happy memories here. All his life he felt estranged and detached from thepeople of the Sicilian town, only ever feeling attached to his family, thebeauty and history of his home, and someone special.

Until he was 18, Risotto was once an awkward short teen, hitting his growthspurt when he was 16 and towering over his classmates who often bullied him forbeing the shortest and then for being the tallest. His neighbor and classmate wereoften there to speak up for him and defend him. The bullying never got to Risottobut to watch someone defend him with such passion, feelings began to develop.They spent much of their time together; she was there to support Risotto and theNero family when their family member was killed by the drunk driver even whenRisotto lashed out at her to leave him alone. She stuck by his side, and she was the one who Risotto lost his first kiss and virginity to. He thought she couldbe the one who could help him make peace with the cruelties of this world, butwhen he heard this family member’s murderer was going to be free after justfour years, any thoughts of settling down and living a normal life no longerexisted for him. He left his family and left her without a word.

He found himself thinking about her without warning one night andmindlessly went out without hiding himself to walk and feel the cool airagainst his skin. He needed to feel something, to experience the nostalgia ofbeing back home at least once. He knew it was a senseless and reckless thing todo, but he didn’t care. On his walk, he heard his name being called out, knowinghe had been recognized by a local. Deep down, maybe it was something he wanted.To be remembered as the young, awkward, Sicilian boy and not the cold-bloodedmurderer he had become. When he turned to look at his caller, his breath hitchedwhen he discovered who it was.

“Is that really you?” He heard no resent in her question, just confirmher suspicions. As she walked closer, her eyes and smile grew wide, extending herhand to wave eagerly at him. “Long time no see, Ris!” Just like nothing haschanged, she softly punched his chest, and he couldn’t fight his smile.

“It has.” He wanted to say more but couldn’t bring himself to. He simplysmiled down at her, hoping she would continue, but she equally struggled to saysomething, making the air awkward.

“Who’s that?” A small voice bringing them out of their own world. Risottohadn’t noticed the small presence holding the hand of his former lover. A smallgasp escaped his lips when he saw the little girl with ashy hair and red eyes. Thislittle girl couldn’t be…

“He’s an old friend of mine, sweetie.” She explained, nonchalantly. Herbehavior made Risotto question if this was his child. The little girl’s appearanceand the time he left, it added up but her casual attitude made him questionhimself.

The little girl remained watchful and looked Risotto up and down, observinghim. He watched her for a reaction, but the little girl gave him nothing,completely stoic. Though, she did stick her tongue out at him when he staredfor too long.

“Are you just visiting or…” His childhood friend asked, unsure if shewanted to know his honest answer.

“Visiting.”

“Oh. I see.” He watched as disappointment made its way onto her features,but she quickly perked up. “If that’s the case, come have breakfast with ustomorrow morning! We were just out buying some last-minute groceries, turns outwe were out of eggs and milk and a few other things. You should come over beforeyou go!” She offered, hopefully.

When Risotto opened his mouth to decline, a simple “okay” came outinstead. His childhood friend enthusiastically told him where she lived and thebest to go over while the child frowned and pouted, scrunching her nose at Risottobut said nothing. When her mom wanted to continue her conversation, she pulledat her mom, telling her she was tired and wanted to go home. They bid their goodbyesuntil the morning.

Risotto had a mind to simply not show up, but his mind was not beingreasonable, so he found himself eating breakfast with the mother and child.Risotto and his childhood friend talked and caught up. She spoke animatedly abouther career and hobbies while Risotto nodded along. She did all the talking andnever once made Risotto explain himself for leaving so abruptly without sayingso much as a word to her. While she spoke passionately about herself, she madeno mention of where this child came from.

“Can I go play outside?” The child asked before pushing her empty plateto the middle of the table.

“Oh. Don’t you want to get to know Mr. Nero?”

“No.” She said bluntly.

“It’s alright. Let the child play outside. She must be bored just hearingus talk.” Risotto interjected. He wanted to speak privately anyway. The child narrowedher eyes before heading off outside.

“I’m sorry about her. She’s can be very straightforward about her thoughtsand feelings.” She apologized, getting up to wash the dirty dishes. “People sayshe’s exactly like me when I was her a-“

“Who is her father?” Risotto interrupted

She pressed her lips into a thin line and went silent, letting the sink faucet run, the running water replacing their conversation with neither of them moving an inch for a couple of minutes.

“I-“ She paused again. “I’ll discuss this…” She sighed. “I can’t say, not when you’re leaving again.”Her voice shook.

“So she is mine?” Risotto asked one last time to confirm.

“I…Yes. I’m sorry…” She breathed, Risotto watched as her shouldersshook but didn’t move to comfort her. He had his own feelings he needed to sortout. What did this mean for him? Did this change anything?

“Has she ever asked about me?” Risotto wondered out loud, catching himselfand her off guard. She looked down at her fiddling hands and thought deeplyabout his question.

“Only once.” She said honestly. “Only once did she ask where her fatherwas. When I told her I didn’t know, she never brought it up again.”

Risotto bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself composed; hecould not let this get to him. Not here. He got up before asking permission tospeak to the child.

“You're not going to tell her, are you?” She instinctively moved to block the door. He could see the fear,distress, and hope in her movement, expression, and voice. Fear and distress as to what the child couldfeel and hope that it could mean Risotto would stay.

“I am not. I just want to speak to her if you’ll let me,” Risotto reachedout and held her cheek to calm her. She relented and gave him permission as shesat down to collect herself.

Risotto found his child sitting by a tree, seeking shelter from theunforgiving sun and saw her filling in a coloring book. She must have grabbedit before heading out. She glanced up when he approached, giving him a quick “hi”before returning to her messy coloring. Knowing that this little girl was hisdaughter caused his heart to lurch, and he was angry at himself for it but choseto ignore it in the moment.

“Hello,” he greeted awkwardly, seating himself next to her.

“… Hi.” She responded quietly, not looking at him. Risotto noticed her downtrodden faceas she colored absentmindedly. As the adult, Risotto figured he had to strikeup a conversation, but his child beat him to it.

“That’s the happiest I have seen mom in a long time…” She opened up, “EvenI never made her that happy,” she said mumbled bitterly. Risotto didn’t know a childher age could saying something with such bitterness. She stabbed her cartoon onto the page and color furiously,breaking the crayon in the process. “… Thanks for making mom happy, I guess,”she muttered.

Unable to find the right words, Risotto placed his large hand on her headand gently ruffled it. Without direction, his child leaned into him and restedher head against him. The sadness on her face chipped away at his heart. Thiswas his child, and he had no way of comforting her; he couldn’t tell her who hewas to her. Not when he couldn’t stay.

“Are you my dad?” She suddenly threw her question at him.

He paused before asking, treading light. He didn’t want to break his word to the mother. “Why do you think that?” He wanted to know.

“Because of how happy mom was when she saw you because we share the samecreepy eyes.” She said, pointing to her own.

“Creepy?” Risotto repeated?

“That’s what all the kids here say about them. My eyes are creepy,” shesaid, matter-of-factly and unbothered.

“They aren’t creepy,” Risotto expressed, a protective and sudden paternalside manifesting, wanting his child to be confident in her appearance.

“Are you my dad?” She repeated, ignoring Risotto comment.

He remained quiet, knowing his silence was both an answer and not an answer at once,and she seemed to accept that and chose to go back to drawing. Things suddenlybecame tense, and Risotto realized he had made a mistake and stayed too long.He had to go. Without warning, he used Metallica’s ability to cloak himself andleft without uttering a word to his daughter and former lover. As time passed,the young girl’s mother came by to check on her.

“Where is Mr. Nero?” She asked her lonely daughter who told her that heleft a while ago.

“He told me to tell you sorry that he couldn’t say good-bye and that he’llmiss you,” she lied, hoping she lessened the blow for her mother.

“Is that so?” She smiled understandably, kneeling to give her daughter asoft kiss on the forehead. “That was very kind of him. Thank you, bambina.” Thelittle girl trembled and wrapped your arms around her mom’s neck, fighting theurge to cry. “There, there, my little sweet pea. There is no reason to cry.” Shetook her into her arms and carried her away, leaving her coloring book behind andtaking her inside.

The mother and daughter did not come out the rest of the night when Risottofound himself on their property once last time. He was tempted to cloak himselfand see them one last time but now had enough sense to know it was not a goodidea and would stop him from going back to Naples and his team.

As he began to walk off, he noticed the coloring back, picking it up and flippingthrough the pages. He smiled at his child’s reluctance to stay inside the lineand using random uncommon colors for common things. He didn’t expect to takeany gifts for back home, but he carefully placed the coloring book in hissuitcase when he finally headed back to his new home in Naples.

On the plane ride, he fell asleep thinking about his former lover andtheir child and dreamt about the life they could have had if things had turnedout differently.

#shay replies #risotto nero #my writing #jojo hcs #for later #Anonymous #jjba #vento aureo

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starryknight09 · 5 years

Note

It's Under question! In chapter 18,“You guys do know I cook for Peter like all the time now right?” Tony quirked an eyebrow.“Is that why he’s so skinny?” Sam joked.“Hey I do ok!” Tony defended. “It’s been weeks since I set off the fire alarm. Right F.R.I.D.A.Y?”“That is correct boss.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. answered. And in chapter 17, “I made chocolate chip pancakes.” Tony tempted him. “Your favorite.”“Really? I didn’t hear the smoke alarm go off.” Peter smiled into the pillow.“That was one time.”

Oh yeah I remember now!

I had a cute idea about it so I started writing it and then it got away from me and turned into an actual oneshot soooo…enjoy!

Tony woke up before his alarm went off. Not an uncommon occurrence for him with all the thoughts and stress usually buzzing through his brain, but he thought he’d have a harder time waking up on this morning. Peter hadn’t gone to sleep until half past two the night before. They’d stayed up watching movies in the kid’s bed on his laptop. Tony had allowed it because he knew how hard it was to shut your brain off and rest the night before a loved one’s funeral. A parent’s funeral. May’s funeral.

Tony had planned the entire day out. From the plot and gravestone down to the flower arrangements around the casket. Peter had helped with a few things here and there, like the outfit he wanted May buried in and the pictures that should be displayed, but mostly he’d left the majority of the decisions up to Tony, which had been fine with him. It hadn’t even been that much work, but it’d been difficult in a different way. The sadness of it had been dragging him down all week, mirrored by the specter of the kid essentially floating around the apartment, whenever he actually got out of bed, which wasn’t often.

It worried him, but he didn’t really know what to do about it. He was new to this whole taking care of a living breathing kid thing.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and forced himself out of bed. He had to get dressed and put together before he woke Peter up because he had a feeling once the kid was awake today he was going to require his 24/7 attention.

It didn’t take him all that long to get ready for the day, hair perfectly styled and white dress shirt on with a black tie in place. He left the suit jacket off for now, draping it over one of the chairs at the kitchen table. According to his watch, there was still an hour and a half until the funeral was slated to start. That should be enough time for him to attempt to do something with some eggs and pancake mix for the kid.

He grabbed the box of mix out of the cupboard and read over the instructions on the back. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d tried to cook, but it didn’t seem all that complicated. He handled dangerous heavy machinery on a daily basis. Mixing some things together and applying heat to it couldn’t be that hard.

He grabbed a mixing bowl out of one of the bottom cabinets after a thorough search. Adding the eggs wasn’t too difficult. He only had to scoop out three pieces of shell that fell in. The milk was easy enough to pour and then came the pancake mix, which maybe he should’ve added more carefully. When he flopped the measuring cup over, a slight cloud of mix erupted from the bowl. He stepped back and fought the urge to cough. At least he had all the ingredients together. Now he just needed to stir it. Whisk it? That’s what the instructions said. He was fairly certain he had a whisk around here somewhere. After another couple minutes of searching, he found it.

“Aha.” He grabbed it out of the kitchen drawer and quickly set to work vigorously whisking all the pancakes components in the mixing bowl.

Once all the lumps had mostly disappeared, he stopped, exactly as the recipe told him.

“Piece of cake.” He mumbled. This was way easier than rocket science. He could do this. Sure, it was kind of boring, but the kid deserved something besides cold cereal and take out. And since Tony had signed all the documents making him the kid’s official guardian, he was in it for the long haul so he had to start learning how to do this cooking thing sometime. The way things were going, it looked like maybe he was going to have a knack for it. Perfect.

Next, he found a large pan and set it on the stove, turning the burner on to the setting between medium and high heat as the directions specified. Then, he poured three distinct circles of batter into the pan. He found the spatula in the same drawer as the whisk and set it on the counter next to the stove. Now he just had to wait to flip them and he’d have some homemade edible breakfast food ready for Peter. Well, sort of homemade, if premade mix counted. Maybe next time he’d get real crazy and make them from scratch. Or maybe add some chocolate chips. That was a thing, right? Chocolate chip pancakes? The kid would probably like that. He liked chocolate. At least Tony thought he did. What kid didn’t like chocolate? On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t do chocolate chips. Candy for breakfast wasn’t exactly healthy. God, this whole responsible adult thing was hard.

His phone rang from where he’d left it on the countertop, interrupting his thoughts.

“Hey.” He answered after glancing at the caller ID.

“Hey Tony.” Steve said back. “Can I bother you with a quick question?”

“Shoot.” He said, eyeing the pan. Everything still looked okay.

“Did I leave the suit jacket from my dress uniform at your place?”

“Uh, not that I know of. When would you have done that?”

“I don’t know but I can’t find it anywhere and no one else has seen it.”

“Pretty sure it’s not here.”

“Can you just look?”

“Fine.” He reluctantly agreed. “The things I do for you Cap.”

Steve sighed audibly over the phone.

Tony smirked as he searched the living room. No missing dress uniform. He walked down the hallway to his bedroom and searched there even though he couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t have seen it if it was in his bedroom.

“Did you find it?” Steve asked impatiently.

“Not yet.”

“Check your closet.”

“Why would your dress uniform be in my closet?”

“Maybe the cleaning service got mixed up. Maybe they found it on the couch or something and hung it up for you.”

“I’m fairly sure they’d know a military uniform wasn’t mine.”

“Maybe they thought you were using it more nefarious purposes.”

“Nefarious huh?” Tony rolled his eyes but stepped into his closet to look. “I doubt it. I haven’t done any kind of kinky role play in years. And I hate to say it but the military thing isn’t really my go to when it comes to that. No offense.”

“Oh god Tony.” Steve said in half whine and half reprimand. “I definitely didn’t need to know…that. I meant maybe they thought you were doing some kind of undercover op since you’re an Avenger, remember?”

“Huh. I suppose that would make sense.”

“So is it there?”

“I’m looking. Cool your jets.” He scanned through his plethora of suit jackets. “I’m not seeing it.”

Steve groaned. “Now what am I supposed to wear to the government meeting?”

“A normal suit like everyone else.” Tony answered, looking through the last part of his closet.

“That’s easy for you to—”

“Son of a bitch.” Tony said in surprise when his fingers landed on the dress uniform jacket shoved between two of his own navy suit jackets.

“What?”

“I found it.”

“I knew it. I’ll be right up to get it.”

“I’m still trying to comprehend how your uniform ended up in my closet. When were you wearing this up here?” Tony asked as he plucked the jacket out of his closet and eyed it as if it held the answer.

“I don’t know. Maybe at that function you threw a couple months back?”

Tony remembered. “And what? You just decided to strip while you were in my apartment?”

Steve sighed heavily again. “No. I probably just got hot and took it off. It’s not the most comfortable thing to wear in case you can’t tell.”

Tony was about to make an inappropriate quip about Steve being too hot when a high pitched screech sounded through the air.

“What’s that noise?” Steve asked in concern.

“Um…” It took him a second recognize the fire alarm and realize an instant later what it was from. “Oh shit. I got to go.”

“Tony what’s going—”

He ended the call and dashed out of his bedroom, tossing the jacket on his bed along the way. He’d completely forgotten about the stupid pancakes while he’d been talking to Steve.

Smoke filled the kitchen.

“Shit shit shit.” He said, running over to the pan and turning the burner off. The pan continued to smoke with scorched pancake batter. He opened the garbage can and pried the smoking remnants of his previously perfect batter into the trash with a spatula. Three blackened circles remained behind and no matter how hard he scraped at them he couldn’t get them off. The batter and the pan had become one.

“Dammit.” He swore again.

“Um what’s going on?” Peter asked, standing by the hallway in his pajamas and rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.” He said even though all the evidence pointed to the contrary

The alarm continued to blare. He should probably do something about that.

“FRIDAY can you turn that stupid alarm off?” He yelled as he dropped the ruined pan into the sink and ran water over it, trying to get the smoking to stop.

The noise cut off so abruptly the resulting silence was nearly deafening in itself.

Peter walked to his side and peered over his shoulder at the blackened pan.

“Were you…cooking?” Peter asked in surprise.

“Trying to.” He admitted. “Didn’t go so well as you can see.”

Peter glanced around, taking in the evidence of his pancake making attempt around the kitchen before turning to look at him.

The kid gave him a bemused look and pointed at his cheek. “Um you have some…stuff on your face.”

“What?” He swiped at his right cheek.

“No the other one.” Peter said. He wasn’t smiling but there was a twinkle in his eyes Tony hadn’t seen once since picking him up from the hospital.

He wiped at his left cheek and a chunk of batter came away in his hand. “Did I get it?”

“No. There’s more. And some, uh, powder stuff.” Peter said, a small smile escaping this time. “Maybe you should look in the mirror.”

“Tony! Are you ok?” Steve yelled as he burst out of the elevator into the room, brandishing a tennis racket in one hand as weapon.

“Yeah stand down Cap. It was just the smoke alarm. We had a slight pancake mishap.” He answered.

Steve let his arm drop. “I thought there was an intruder.”

“An intruder that my state of art AI didn’t tell you about?” Tony raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

Steve shrugged.

“And if there was an intruder, what were you going to do with that?” Tony asked, pointing at the tennis racket. “Wimbledon them to death? You do know we’re in a facility filled with weapons? Real weapons. Like a supersoldier’s vibranium shield. Ringing any bells?”

“I came to save your life and this is the thanks I get?” Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

“Save my life from what? My terrible cooking skills?”

Peter burst out laughing.

They both turned to look at him, surprised at the noise. Steve’s harsh look warmed and Tony smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Peter laugh. The kid had a great laugh.

“Yeah I hate to break it to you kid, but in case you haven’t already figured it out, I can’t cook worth a damn.” He said blithely as Peter’s laughing tapered off.

“That’s all right. I’m used to it.” Peter said, still smiling. “May couldn’t cook very well either. Remember that walnut date bread she gave you the first time you met me?”

Surprisingly, Peter’s face didn’t fall at the mention of his aunt. His eyes turned a little misty, but a ghost of a smile remained on his face.

“Oh I definitely do.” Tony said, keeping his response light. “Don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

“Yeah me neither.” Peter agreed. “Anyway, it’s probably understatement to say I’m used to the fire alarm going off.”

This time Tony laughed.

“You guys look like you have everything under control. I’m going to head out.” Steve said. Tony had almost forgotten he was there.

“Wait, don’t you need your suit jacket?”

“I’ll come back for it later. I don’t need it until this afternoon.” Steve said with an oddly warm look in his eyes as he regarded the two of them.

“Ok. I’ll probably be gone but FRIDAY will let you in. It’s on my bed.”

Steve nodded and gave him a smile as he stepped back into the elevator, gracefully exiting and leaving him alone with the kid. Tony realized he probably should’ve introduced the two of them, because even though Steve had seen Peter when he’d helped carry him inside the other day, Peter hadn’t officially met Steve yet. Oh well. There’d be time for that later.

“FRIDAY be a dear and crack some windows open for me.” Tony requested. He clasped Peter’s shoulder and started to steer him out of the kitchen. “Why don’t you go clean up and get ready while I wash this stuff off my face, and then we can go grab some breakfast.”

He purposefully didn’t mention what exactly Peter needed to get ready for. They both already knew.

“We’re going out for breakfast? You’re not going to try cooking again?” Peter asked and Tony could tell he was being sassy instead of curious.

“Um no. Definitely not. Not today anyway. Maybe later. Like next week, or next month, or next year. Actually, let’s just say never for now. Never is good right?”

Peter smiled and Tony took that as a win. Sure, he may not have been able to make food to feed the kid, but he’d made him smile on the day of his aunt’s funeral. That was definitely harder. He could always figure out the cooking thing later.

He tried making pancakes again a week later.

It didn’t go any better than the first attempt. The previous fiasco repeated itself almost identically, except instead of Steve, it’d been Pepper that had called him in the middle of cooking, needing him to look over an e-mail for SI. He’d done it, but he’d also completely forgotten about the pancakes. Again. The smoke alarm had gone off and had woken Peter up. Again. To his credit, the kid had tried to hold back his laughter at the sight of him scraping charred pancake remains into the trash, but he hadn’t quite succeeded. With another pan ruined, Tony had taken Peter out to his favorite waffle place instead of trying to salvage homemade breakfast.

The third time he tried making pancakes was only a few days after the second botched attempt, but instead of trying to do it on his own, he’d had FRIDAY help him. She reminded him when he needed to flip the pancakes and take them off the stove, and he’d managed it without burning them. Apparently the third time was the charm. When Peter walked out all sleep rumpled and looked borderline impressed at the deliciously perfect pancakes stacked on a plate waiting for him, Tony didn’t fess up to using his AI for assistance. The kid didn’t need to know. Besides, he’d made FRIDAY, so did it even count as not doing it on his own if it was his own creation helping him?

The pancakes had been a hit. Peter had absolutely devoured them. They’d gone over so well, Tony had decided that next time he was going to do something crazy and try adding chocolate chips, since he’d noticed by now that his kid definitely loved any kind of sugar confectionery.

As he’d watched Peter wash off the empty plate, he figured maybe he wasn’t doing so bad after all with this whole guardian thing.

#asked #and answered #missing scene #my fic #The darkest hour

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amindofmanystories · 5 years

Text

Caretaker

Yautja x reader

Part 1

Warning: adult language

You stared at your little brother with an annoyed expression "I swear to fucking god, if you eat my fucking snacks I'll break your legs-NO! I'll sell your game system!" Your brother squinted his eyes "You wouldn't!" "Oh I would!" Both of you stared at each other. You brother quickly glances at the bag of chips in his hands before looking back at you. He slowly reached the bag of chips out to you. You smile happily but as soon as you reached for the bag your brother snatches it back and jets out of the house "You little shit!" You growl and follow close behind him. He ran out to the backyard and into the woods behind the house. You brother began to open the bag as he ran and jumped over foliage. Your eyes widened at the sound of the bag opening and the crunching that followed after "Oh hell no!" You ran even faster and jumped toward your brother. You successfully tackled him to the ground and rip the bag away from him. You smile triumphantly and look at the bag, it was empty. You snapped your head to your brother and glared. He smiled up at you with a mouth full of chips. You were about to put him a choke hold when a loud roar filled the sky. You look up and see something falling from the sky. It seemed to be coming your way. You quickly push your brother down and cover your head. The object quickly soared past you and crashed. You felt dirt, twigs, and a couple rocks fly at you. A couple of the twigs cut your face and you hissed in pain. You and your brother waited until it was silent. Slowly and cautiously, you uncover your head and look around “WHAT.THE.FUCK!” your brother yelled. You wince and quickly cover his mouth “Shut up, you idiot!” You stumble to your feet and pull your brother up. You both looked at the trail of destruction that whatever crashed had left. Your brother began to slowly walk down the broken trail but you quickly grabbed the collar of his shirt “And what the hell do you think your doing?” “A freaking asteroid just soared past us and landed not to far from here! Imma check it out!” He pulls free from your grip and runs toward the asteroid. You stare at him in disbelief “THIS IS HOW IDIOTS IN MOVIES GET WEIRD DISEASES AND PARASITES!” you yell at him “THEN I GUESS I’LL BE LEGENDARY!” he yells back. Your growl and stomp your feet in anger before glaring at your brother “fuck...WAIT FOR ME YOU IDIOT! MOM ‘LL KILL ME IF YOU GET HURT!” you yell as you run to catch up with your brother.

You and your brother continued to follow the path until a giant metal object came into view. You both felt heat emit from the object. In closer inspection, it was a space ship and pieces from the ship had broken off and some were still of fire. You both stared in amazement. Your brother then noticed an opening on the side of the ship “Hey! There’s an opening here!” he yells to you. He then turns to the opening and yells “E.T. GO HO-” You smack your brother upside the head and shushed him “What if there’s an alien in here! It coulda heard ya!” your brother pouted and rubbed his head “there’s only one way to find out!” he runs into the opening. You growled and rubbed your temples in frustration “Out of all of dad’s swimmers, this idiot somehow won the chance of life...” You sigh and follow your brother.

The inside of the ship was a total mess. You both had to climb, jump, duck, and push away objects in order to get through. It was rather quiet besides the creaking of both of your footsteps. You both began to hear an odd clicking sound as you both neared an opening to a room of sort. You both peaked inside and noticed a figure on the floor. Your brother looked around and picked up a long piece of metal before approaching the figure. You followed him until you were a few feet away. The figure was much bigger than you both anticipated. It had odd dark green and brown skin with patterns on it, something that resembled dreads on its head, sharp nails, odd armor, and a metal face... or was it a mask? Your brother lifted the piece of metal and continued to poke the limp figure "I think it's dead." You snatch the metal out of his hands "Don't poke it! Are you crazy!?" "Hey! You scared or some-" the eyes on the mask suddenly lit up and the figure quickly sat up "AAAAAAAAH!" You both screamed. Out of instinct, you lift the piece of metal and swing it at the aliens head. It then fell limp once more. You both stared at it "I....I think you killed it." You snap your head toward your brother and grab his arm "We're getting the hell out of here!" "We can't just leave him here!" "Watch me!" You began to walk out of the room but your brother didn't budge. You turned to him "What are you doing? We need to go!" "He's injured, (Y/n). We can't leave leave him." You stared at each other silently. You glance back at the unconscious body. You began to feel a bit bad for it and that conflicted with your common sense. You sigh in defeat and look at your brother "Fine. We'll help him, but if we end up getting killed I'm gonna kick your ass for eternity." You brother smiles and you both grab the alien and drag him out of the ship. You couldn't just drop him off at a hospital and you couldn't just have him in your home, but thankfully you had an old shed in your backyard. It wasn't used since it had holes in the roof and slightly worn from years of storms. Your brother opened the rotted wooden door and you dragged the heavy body into the shed. Your brother grabs some old worn blankets and a first aid kit. He put the blankets in a pile and hands you the first aid kit. You carefully clean the Alien’s injuries before bandaging them up. You still felt uneasy about having an alien in your backyard but you kinda felt proud of yourself for helping it. Your brother walked to the house and came back with a bag "These should stop him from hurting us." Your brother kneels in front of the alien a pulls out a ton of Chinese finger traps (I think that's what it's called. Those things where you have to push your fingers together to get out. If you pull it becomes harder to take off.). You give your brother an ' are you serious?' Kind of look but he continued to put them on the alien's fingers and toes. You shake your head and grab an old jump rope from your house. You tie up the alien to a stack of old concrete blocks that laid in a corner. Satisfied that the alien couldn't hurt you or your brother, you look outside and noticed the setting sun "Hey, let's head inside. Mom and dad will be heading home soon." Your brother nodded and walked to the house. You followed your brother inside and went to the kitchen. You grabbed a cheap cup and plastic pitcher and filled it with water. You then carried the items back to the alien and set them beside him. You weren't sure if it could drink water but it didn't hurt to leave it there. As you left the shed you glanced at the alien one more time before closing the door and walking home.

As night fell, the injured alien stirred awake. He winced in pain and tried to touch his head but his arms and hands couldn't move. He looked down and noticed he was tied up. He growled and thrashed in his restraints. He tried to stand up and walk but he fell flat on his face. This added to his anger. He roared as he broke free from the jump rope but not the things on his fingers and toes. He tried to use his helmet but it wasn’t responding.

You were asleep when the alien roared with anger. You jumped from your bed and grabbed the closest thing to defend yourself with, the metal piece from before. You quietly open your bedroom door and walk to your brother's room. You open the door and nudge him awake "Hey! It's awake." Your brother jumped from his bed, grabbed a baseball bat, and silently ran to the backyard. You follow close behind him and cautiously approach the shed. You were only a foot away when your brother stepped on a twig. The snap made you both freeze. The shed went silent. You turned to your brother and nod toward the door. He goes wide-eyed and shakes his head no. You role your eyes and turn back to the door. You reach for the handle slowly. Just as you did, the door busted open and the alien stumbled out. He somehow got his toes free but not his hands. He snapped his head toward the two siblings. His growling grew louder. You look at the tall alien with wide eyes “Whoa! Hey! We’re not bad guys!” You tried to explain but the alien was too angry to pay attention. He charged at the both of you and you both jumped in separate directions. Your brother swung his bat at the alien but he quickly dodged it and kicked your brother across the yard “(B/n)!” You glare at the alien “We.saved.your.ass!” you growled at the alien. You swung at the alien and got a few hits right at him. He looked at you impressed and continued to fight back. He dodged one of your hits and kicked you in your back. You fell on your stomach and gasped. The air was knocked right out of you. You struggled to turn toward the alien as he staggered toward you. You summoned all of your strength and lifted your weapon in front of you. The alien seemed to have chuckled at you. You prepared yourself “Hey! Over here, ugly!” the alien turned and looked at your brother. You took this chance and swung your weapon behind the alien’s knees and knocked him to the ground. He let out a grunt as he hit the floor beneath him. You quickly jump on top of him and hold the weapon to his throat with one hand and used the other to hold his trapped hands above his head. You both panted and looked into each other’s eyes “I am not your enemy.” you huff. He didn’t reply and only stared at you. Many thoughts raced through the young yautja’s head. He had been knocked off his feet by a tiny human! But...he didn’t seem to mind. He was actually impressed by your fighting spirit. You both continued to stare at each other before a cough caught your attention. You both look at your brother standing a few feet away with a small smirk “Are you guys gonna kiss or something?” your cheeks heated up and you quickly jump off the alien. The alien slowly got to his feet and stared at you and your snickering brother with his hands held out “I think he wants his hands to be freed.” your brother turns to the alien and motions to push his fingers together. The yautja stared at him at first and then proceeded to do as told. Once released, he could stare at what held his fingers trapped together. A sense of embarrassment washed over him but he quickly shook it off. You cautiously walk up to the tall alien and motion to his bandages “I-I patched you up. Your ship crashed not to far from here. I’m sorry for tying you up and my brother is sorry forputting those things on you.”"no I'm not." You glare at your brother. The yautja stared at you before he nodded his head in thanks. He turns away and runs through the woods towards his ship. You and your brother watched as he disappeared in through the trees. You pat your brother's back "That was fu-" "WHAT THE MOTHERFUCKING HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING OUTSIDE! IT'S 2 IN THE MORNING!" Both of you swung your head up and saw your mom sticking her head out of her bedroom window. You looked at each other and ran inside "It was his/her fault!" You both yelled out pointing at each other.

The next morning was rather quiet. Your parents were at work and your brother was still sleeping. You yawn tiredly and make your way to the kitchen. You grab a cup from the cupboard and walk past a figure as you made your way to the fridge " mornin'..." You yawn. You open the fridge and pull out a carton of juice. It wasn't until you took your first sip of juice that it hit you. There in front of you stood the tall alien you had helped the other day. His mask off and his piercing yellow eyes observing you. After what felt like hours, you hear footsteps. Your brother enters the kitchen and yawns "Good mor- HOLY MOTHER VAGINA WITH TEETH!" He yells.

((Anonymous request. Will post second part in 3 days.))

#yautja x reader #yautja #alien

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thelanguageoflovers · 6 years

Text

That Damned Universe - Chapter 4

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

AO3

Cyrus was exhausted. Madame Aguillard had kept them 15 minutes after class ended to discuss in alarming detail all of the accents in the French language. She spent thirteen minutes talking about their various effects on a word and, later on, their origins and applications. As he dropped into his seat in third period science, panting slightly, he suddenly understood the practicality of the preposterous amount of time between his classes. He pulled his science textbook from his bag just as Mr. Stilen stood up from his desk at the back of the room. He strolled across the classroom towards the front, greeting his students brightly. "How was everybody's first day?" he asked, and was answered with a chorus of groans as the students recalled the level of work they'd been assigned the day before. "Oh, don't be so glum. Wait until at least 11th grade to lose hope. Or better yet- wait until you're a sophomore in college," he advised jokingly. The class shared a forced bout of laughter, most students grimacing at the prospect of spending the next five years working as hard as they had the night before. Cyrus merely sighed, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as Mr. Stile introduced the lesson. Cyrus sat through the whole of the lesson, only for history to repeat itself- the class extended to 10:56, leaving Cyrus with four minutes to sprint across campus to his room for his English Lit book before rushing to his class. Cyrus nearly fell up the stairs trying to get to his room, quickly grabbing his book and rushing back downstairs and across campus. He basically sprinted into Mrs. Elliot's room just in time, falling into his seat as the lesson began. By some force of nature- miracle, wishful thinking, or sheer willpower, no one could be sure- class ended at exactly 11:40, and all 31 students in the class rushed out the door for lunch. Cyrus followed the crowd without thinking, and before he knew it he was absentmindedly swiping his meal card and stepping into the cafeteria. Damn. He'd deliberately skipped breakfast that morning to avoid his friends, and now he was going to have to face them. He briefly considered turning around and leaving, but he'd already swiped his card, and leaving would be humiliating. Though, so was standing in the middle of the cafeteria, hands empty and feeling the gazes of Andi and Buffy burning into his skull. He quickly found a plate, dumping the first thing he saw (a ham sandwich on rye, sealed in plastic wrap) onto it before turning back towards the tables. He briefly caught eyes with Andi, whose eyes narrowed before flitting away, before his gaze settled on an empty table in the other corner of the room. His head down, he hurried to the empty table, setting his sandwich down and pulling To Kill a Mockingbird from his bookbag. He rested his chin in his hand and opened the front cover. Just as he flipped the page, someone appeared in front of him. "Ah! God, announce yourself every once in a while," Cyrus said, gesturing to TJ, standing in front of him. "Sorry, Underdog," TJ apologized. Cyrus scoffed at the nickname, shaking his head. "Is that nickname going to stick?" "I think it just might," TJ nodded. "Mind if I sit? My friends have disowned me." he gestured vaguely across the cafeteria, to where an entire table of jocks was staring at TJ, anger in their eyes. "Yeah, of course," Cyrus said, scooping his things off the table, save for the ham sandwich, still lying forgotten at the end of the table. "So you're the one who took the last ham sandwich," TJ said, taking the seat across from Cyrus. "Oh, I- I guess I did," Cyrus said with a shrug. "Have an affinity for ham on rye?" "I guess I do," TJ repeated teasingly. "What do I have to do to get that sandwich from you?" "Oh, you can hav... is that a chocolate chocolate chip muffin?" TJ grinned, sliding Cyrus his muffin and taking the sandwich triumphantly. "I seem to have found your weakness," TJ said excitedly, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a joyous bite from the corner. His eyes sparkled with smug triumph as he swallowed, before biting back into the sandwich. "You have no idea," Cyrus mumbled, taking a bite from his muffin. "So what happened with your friends- if you don't mind me asking?" TJ froze, staring down at his plate and slowly swallowing the bite he'd been chewing before making eye contact with Cyrus once again. "Nothing- stupid friend stuff," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "What about you, Curly and Moe?" "Oh, so we're the Three Stooges now?" "Yep." "What do you mean 'what about you'?" Cyrus asked, stealing a carrot from TJ's tray. "What happened with you three?" "I told you, Buffy and I fought, and Andi's mad at me now. I kind of overreacted yesterday." "Overreacted to what?" "Oh, nothing much- stupid friend stuff," Cyrus said vaguely, looking over TJ's shoulder to where Buffy and Andii were staring at him, talking in hushed voices. "I know it well," TJ nodded, albeit with a raised eyebrow. "What are you looking at? Ah." He turned around to look at Buffy and Andi, then nodded in understanding. "Ostracized?" "Pretty much, yeah. Hence the sitting at this table. I skipped breakfast this morning to avoid them." "I'm sorry, Underdog. That sucks." "Well, you're in the same boat," Cyrus shrugged. "I'm first oarsman," TJ confirmed. "Does that make me... Second oarsman?" "Is that how boats work?" "You think I'd know that?" "I've known you for three days!" TJ defended, sliding his salad across the table. "Here, you need to eat." "Thanks," Cyrus said with a grin, stealing TJ's fork and stabbing at the lettuce. "But I feel like I am not the kind of person who exudes boating energy." "Did you just use the phrase 'exudes boating energy'?" "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." "Is this a common choice of words for you?" "Not really," Cyrus admitted. "Alright, if this conversation is anything to go by, we need to play 20 questions." "...The guessing game?" "Not that 20 questions," TJ chuckled. "There's more than one version of 20 questions?" "Apparently so. Anyway, the rules." "Rules?" "Rules," TJ confirmed. "One. We each ask 10 questions about each other- any 10." "So it's really 10 questions, not 20?" "Don't question it. Two. We're allowed to pass on...two questions. Three- no lying, whatsoever. Four. No questions that are too personal-anything an adult would say to avoid at a dinner party, you avoid here." "Interesting measurement of how appropriate a question is," Cyrus noted. "It paints the picture, though." Cyrus nodded begrudgingly, taking a bite of salad. "Continue," he said, waving his fork at TJ. "Alright. The most important rule of them all; tell no one anything we say here. It doesn't matter if it's my favorite color or my deepest secret- we say nothing." "What happens at lunch stays at lunch," Cyrus said, nodding in understanding. "You start." "Okay... Any siblings?" "One half-sister, Emily. She's eight. What do your parents do?" "My mom's a kindergarten teacher, dad's a business guy- Amber and I don't really know what he does." TJ shrugged. "Any idea what you want to be when you grow up?" "Not a clue, but I'll probably end up following in my parents' footsteps." Cyrus took a deep breath, looking up at TJ. "Have a crush on anyone?" he asked, trying his best to even his voice. "...Pass." Cyrus nodded, sighing in defeat. "How about you?" "I...I don't know," Cyrus stammered. "Okay..." TJ said incredulously, seeming to take that as valid answer nonetheless. "Um, what's your favorite book?" "...The Great Gatsby?" TJ replied. "What about you?" "The Grapes of Wrath. What does TJ stand for?" TJ stared at him for a long moment, taking a bite of his sandwich before opening his mouth to speak "...Pass." "Really?" "Yep. Are you religious?" TJ asked. "That is a blatant violation of the dinner party rule, but yes. I'm Jewish. Are you?" "No, I'm not," TJ shrugged. "My parents are though." "Fair enough." "Alright, question 6. What really happened between you and Buffy?" "Pass. What really happened between you and your friends?" "...I can't pass, can I?" Cyrus shook his head apologetically. "Can I lie?" "Do you really want to make that kind of an impression on me?" TJ sighed, shaking his head. "One of them...accidentally outed me. And the others didn't take it so well," he admitted. "Oh, I'm sorry, that's terrible." "What's done is done. Listen, I'm sorry to cut our game short, but I have to get to class." With that, he was gone, rushing out of the cafeteria without a second look at Cyrus. "God, he really has a habit of doing that."

Cyrus and TJ were both sitting cross-legged on their respective beds, each surrounded by a mild flood of books. A sharp knock on the door caused both of their heads to spring up before TJ parted the sea of studying to stand up. The second he opened the door, someone rushed inside, a flurry of limbs and apology. Cyrus jumped slightly, displacing the homework in his lap just enough for three books to tumble to the ground. "TJ, I've been trying to talk to you all day! I am so sorry, man. I didn't mean to-" "Marty, it's fine!" TJ exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know you didn't mean to out me, please just sit down." "I'm really really sorry, TJ," Marty mumbled, sitting in TJ's desk chair. As he did so, TJ's twin sister rushed into the room, only to step forward and slap the boy-Marty, TJ had said. "Oh- Oh my God," Cyrus mumbled, watching TJ pull Amber away from Marty. "Amber! Sit down!" TJ ordered, pointing to Cyrus's chair. Amber reluctantly did so, holding her hands up in a surrender. "He outed you, Teej," she grumbled frostily as she sat down, crossing her arms over her chest. "By accident!" TJ protested. "Well, when someone accidentally knocks over a candle, they still burned the house down!" "So not the same thing," Marty cut in, holding his jaw gingerly. "Shut up!" Amber and TJ exclaimed in unison. Just as Cyrus stood up to leave and let them sort this out, Buffy and Andi marched into the room, effectively pushing Cyrus back inside. "Cyrus, can we talk?" Buffy asked. "Good God, I do not want to deal with this right now," Cyrus huffed, sitting back on his bed. "Why are you here, Andi?" "...Moral support?" "Alright," Cyrus said, addressing everyone in the room. "Andi, Amber- get out of our room." "And do what?" Amber asked. "I don't care! Go introduce yourselves, play 20 questions, do homework, find some conveniently placed cups to press to the door-It doesn't matter! Just leave!" Cyrus exclaimed. "Okay, okay," Amber said, holding her the door open for Andi as they left. "Do you think we should go?" she asked Andi. "I want to see how this ends!" "Me too, honestly," Amber agreed, sitting down against the wall next to the door. Andi grinned, sitting next to her. After a moment's silence, Andi turned to Amber, extending a hand. "I don't think we've met." "I don't think we have," Amber agreed, smiling slightly as she took Andi's hand. "Amber Kippen." "Andi Mack." "You're very pretty, Andi Mack," Amber flirted boldly. "As are you, Amber Kippen."

Cyrus and TJ pushed Marty and Buffy out of their room at the same time, letting the door swing shut behind them and flopping onto their beds in exhaustion. "Having friends is exhausting," TJ grumbled. "I'm with you there."

Amber and Andi stood up when Buffy and Marty stepped out of the room. All four exchanged simple introductions, before naturally separating as they walked downstairs; Amber and Andi walking alongside one another, Buffy and Marty mirroring them a few yards behind. "We have 8th/9th PE together, don't we?" Marty asked Buffy, turning to her as they jogged downstairs. "Yeah, seventh period B days. You're really fast," Buffy noted. "Oh, thanks," Marty grinned at the praise, nodding happily. "I'm faster, though, of course," Buffy said. "Why, I'm offended," Marty joked, turning onto the second floor after Buffy. "You and me both know I'm way faster!" "I guess we'll just have to test it out sometime," Buffy flirted, following Andi into their room and letting the door swing shut behind them, leaving Marty and Amber staring at it in defeat. "I guess we will."

#tyrus #andi mack #that damned universe fic #tj kippen #cyrus goodman

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renegadesrpg · 4 years

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The Orkan, Part 4. Escaping Fate. Matteo

The house was quiet as it usually was this early or late depending on how you looked at it. My talk with Linus the other day hadn’t gone too well and the talk with Peter the same day even worse. Peter didn’t usually get upset not easily anyway but at the end of that conversation we both been yelling. It was obvious that Peter nor Linus saw my point of view and neither of them would change their mind about me being Alpha. They were convinced I could do it and it was only a matter of stage fright and shock. No matter how I said worded my issues my words wouldn’t go through to them. I hated the fact that they just shrugged my free fucking will off like it didn’t matter. What baffled me the most was why Peter and Linus insisting on wanting an unwilling person as Alpha, a person who wasn’t interested in the job. It wasn’t a calling for me. I had no desire to parent around 90 and counting adult people and their kids. I was not interested in leading them against a self-hatred war against the Edane Pack who had all once been our brothers and sisters. Once the Edane Pack and Orkan Pack had been one glorious pack with over 200 members and one of the richest and most well-organized packs in the country. Organized in the sense of working together, living as one large family that all provided for the pack but still had their individual lives. Today decades later if they still been together that pack number would have been closer to 300. But instead, my late father and the late Alpha of the Edane pack, both now deceased, let greed tear this pack apart and start a war between packs. Today our packs were born into war, taught from an early age to hate the other pack across the wood. If I wasn’t so pissed I might have asked them about all of it and what was going on but I wasn’t staying around to be told some story for them to get their way. Ever since the situation at the club, Peter and Lucas had been on my case telling me what to do and not listen to anything I had to say; or to see reason. I knew nothing would be different if I tried again. There was nothing left for me to do but to leave. I was not going to stay around to be a pawn in a game that just tore our pack and the Edan pack further into war and hate. I always did my part with pack business, I always spoke my mind and tried to help the best I could but usually, it was all in vain somehow. What surprised me was that Peter never encouraged violence and our pack wasn’t a violent pack. We would defend ourselves yes but try not to start anything and those who did always had to face Peter, our Alphas, wrath for it. Peter was a demanding but fair Alpha, he loved our pack. He was a good Alpha… no he was a great Alpha, that was why I didn’t get why he wanted to give it up. That was why I didn’t get how he could. There were only three ways for one to be rid of his Alpha status and that was through a challenge, from Alpha to son, or by the council approval. As of the death of the Edane pack Alpha Sven, his daughter Alexandra had taken on the role of Alpha, not her older brother Loke. Everyone thought Loke would be the one but strangely enough, he supported his sister’s claim as Alpha. It was strange, not so much because she was a woman but more so because Loke was the obvious choice. The rumor had it, Loke was ill permanently so, but other speculation inside our pack was that the old man Alpha Sven had thought Loke to weak, not due to illness but that he wanted peace, and therefore manipulated the system to let his just as arrogant daughter take over in his absence. Something was off with all of it and I wanted no part in any of it and I sure as hell didn’t want to be the one running this shit show. If Peter didn’t want the job any longer he could take it up with the Council and then hand the torch over to someone they saw fit. I was not going to be it so therefore I was leaving, for good or not I didn’t know. I just knew I had to leave for the time being because the longer I stayed the more conflicted I got and the more they hassled me. I couldn’t think with Peter and Linus around and considering they had their own hidden agenda of some sort that meant there wasn’t really anything holding me there. I love my pack and the people here were good but I wasn’t their savior and it bothered me how they seemed to think so. That was one chip on my shoulder I didn’t need. Shoving my large duffle bag full I got a few changes of clothes in there, adding my laptop and my chargers for both it and my phone. I had a simple phone one of those dispensable ones to keep down cost, we all did. My laptop didn’t have one of those 4 or 5G wifis because we couldn’t afford it or rather we made sure the school building had it for the kids but it was one of those government-funded ones for homeschooling. We were poor, we lived paycheck to paycheck the only reason we could even go clubbing at the bar was that the owner was someone we, Linus and I, help on occasion and once saved his life since then he always gave us deals on liquor and free beer. It was the rif between our packs caused by a deal gone bad where we lost all our money because we’d trusted Sven in an investment that gone sour. And just a few years back we found out that it hadn’t gone sour as much as it been a lie all the way through, a way for Sven to get a hold of the Orkan’s money by manipulaitning my old man into a deal that didn’t exist. I had about few hundred bucks in my bank account but that was it and the only reason I had them was that I picked up some extra work the past months working around the clock more or less between the extra shifts at the factory and pack business. Peter had refused to take the money telling me that the extra money was mine and not pack money. Normally we put all the money in one big pile so to speak to pay off our bills and then devised it up so that everyone depending on the size of the family had what they needed for personal bills, groceries, and things for the coming month more often than not it was us who went without before any of the pack members. Grabbing my leather jacket I slipped it on before grabbing my duffle and my boots in my hand and snuck out of my room, through the house, and out on the porch where I pulled my boots on. Strapping my duffle onto the back of my bike, my old man's old bike, I went to the shed to grab the small tent, a sleeping bag, and the small backpack for hiking. In it, there was a small Trangia hiking kitchen and some useful accessories. It could come in handy since I needed to save my money. I was a big guy so I could always pick up odd work here and there and earn some easy cash but since I didn’t know where I am going I needed to be careful. After getting the tent and sleeping bag strapped on the back of my bike, the backpack on my bag, I looked over at the house as I got my helmet on giving it and the people sleeping inside a last look before I started to push my bike towards the main road. There would be hell to pay the day I returned I knew that hopefully when I did all this Alpha shit had been settled and everything could go back to normal after I had my head bitten off a few times… or maybe more than a few times. For now, I couldn’t be here, for now, I had to not be here. As I came to the main road I straddled my bike and it started up without a problem. The sound of the running motor soothing and familiar, and without looking back headed down the road leading me to the highway away from the only place I ever called home. #EscapingFate #TheOrkan #TheWolven #TheRenegadesRP

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neuropathicgypsy · 7 years

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More knocking today

Two different people.i figured out they were messing with the air conditioner.

The dude just here said he couldn't budge it. It was jammed stuck in there

Since Gordito was warning me that he was going to kill me, I assume he was a big strong guy cause Gordito says he was all fired up.

So the next guy down the row is all "I send the weaker guys do and i tell them if they can't do it I'll do it myself and beat them in the ass, too"

So I had 15 minutes to move the air conditioner, by myself because that's what I have to do because I'm an adult.

So this dude is all with his hidden camera on my front door and he's all "oh my God my guy said he could not move that air conditioner and it would not budge for anything and she pulled that out with one arm! One arm! Oh my God, she what she means when she says "bring it" she meant it!!!"

And he's going on and on about my one arm.

I told him "I used two, don't be so dramatic"

But I did. Yesterday my daughter and I brought the wagon full of groceries up the stairs and into the house. I was looking at the goods still in it to see what we could use as weapons... luckiest chance will be he will stop to eat.

Worst case is that I run out of Chips Ahoy cereal and there was only one box so someone has to explain that.

But this dude is all scared now.

Im a very big girl with lots fat on my ass, stomach, thighs and arms oh and my quad chin. But not so far under that is muscle.

It didn't bother me at all to pull it out

Had to move the (unwrapped) presents and Christmas tree so I could fit then I had to pull out the metal machine then the window was stuck and I only had 15 minutes and that 15 can go quick so I was pulling hard as hell to get it straight locked.

He is screaming the whole time with this little electronic gadgets at his side all "oh my God I can't believe she did that! She's all "ic can't move it hurts so bad wah wah and she does this with on hand to the air conditioner"

Genius, radio frequency ablation or not. I'm not fucking gonna sit there with some dude trying to get in the easy way no mother fucker. Hell no that's lazy as fuck. I had to break into my own house because I Locked my keys in. No. You are gonna have a more difficult time to get into my house than I do.

#gofuckyourself

This mother fucker claims to see the light after promising all his little buddies that he's gonna kill me. He's now gonna break all them promises cause for Jesus sakes.

That's cool. I won't hold it against him.

Got all my windows and doors blocked. Break it and get in and you're gonna be all fuck i just rolled into Home Alone 2020.

I am not kidding. Still waiting to make sure that dude is gone and my daughter is breaking bottles in her room. No shit. The Starbucks. thick glass bottles.

It's home alone, man.

Some dude is being paid pennies or promised by a liar as deep as him. Seriously. He balks at me just pulling out the air conditioner. The fuck?

That's nothing.

That promise that so and so is gonna get money if they kill me. It's paperwork that can be overridden by my own or the FBI's. Or jail time. You can't get money if you're hired to murder

Dude is running around with a contract that he's gonna take to a lawyer for a pay out. "Hi, I promised Jesse I would kill sabrina and I did, so where's my money Mr Lawyer?"

I mean I could tell him the lawyer is FBI but then he didn't believe I would defend myself or my daughter alone. By myself. Because that's how I handle things

So at this point. He's either not going to do it cause he's scared or he's gonna be dumb and for real expect some money

Regardless there's a beautiful paper trail. So they may let him think he's gonna get and book a flight to paradise. Actually load the plane and land in paradise for the cops to smile and take him right back on.

Imagine it. All the money you ever dreamed of in your life. Ever. You can own the world. Just kill a fat bitch that's been in bed for two years. Easy. Easy. Moneh. So easy. Mmmm..I can smell the money. Oh yeah. Ohhh rub it on my fat tummy, hide stacks in my fat roll.

Hide that shit and hold up my fat so my back don't have to carry the load and I load up in a crane to get in my private jet.

Paradise. On my way. Staring out the window so so so so happy

I'm on top the world. Nothing gonna stop my smile. A little pain. Just rub a $100 bill on it.. mmmm so so so so good.

Okay so maybe you're not fat. Read it again and add yourself in it. Maybe your dick is so hard you need help to make it look more like "BoxErs' or you're all mmm new titties, stack some money up there and see what I look like STACKED as fuck!!!!

(I seriously got yelled at cause I was for real in the zone. And laughed at. It's ok)

I think you get the picture.

It doesn't matter how much pain I have. The emotional and mental pain will last so much longer than a little back pain added to my already pain. I have alot of pain all the time. I can block it out but it takes alot of energy

Let's #science for a minute. Adrenaline knocks out all pain. You hear all the time people getting shot and not knowing till they see the blood cause they're all amped up.

So to decide to hurt someone who is already in pain #science the person knows what pain is and is in pain constantly so it doesn't matter how much pain someone causes them. Because for them it's nothing.

Let's do a mini study:

You take someone with years of pain

And someone that works out alot so they have some stretchy pain. Sore muscles etc. I get tinnitus like a bitch in both elbows and wrists cause I go all crazy like straight from bed to carrying air conditioners. (That is what happened) but most people that work out regularly have very little pain.

So high pain tolerance vs average pain tolerance

Same as a Snoop Dogg Weed Smoker vs a first timer smoker.

Same as a hot dog eating champion vs someone constantly on a diet.

Same as an alcoholic vs someone never drank but a few sips when they daddy's back turned (in my case my mom's)

So. Seriously. I have a very high pain tolerance

And unfortunately for some (possibly) i did have successful radio frequency ablation. So I'm doing amazing things like standing for 5 whole entire minutes. Yesterday we carried up the wagon full of groceries. Not a shallow Radio Flyer. A deep one. Very deep. I was on the bottom so I had to balance and lift. It was difficult.

Then we reached the top. I couldn't get to the door so I handed my daughter the key. She was messing around laughing all "I tried to use the car key" I had to stop my mouth. It was crazy. I was about to tell her, (because I've been telling her the truth about my pain and so I try to explain to her what's going on so she understands that sometimes I'm not socially normal. And it is okay to be all I have pain. It's not a weakness. Of course tell a hired hit man, that and you gotta haul out an air conditioner which he still insits was with one hand) so my hips you know... I had to settle my body square but realized I was okay and could stand without pain.

Like for real. It was so awesome. I didn't have nay back pain. I felt great. I was gonna tell her "hurry up, my back hurts" but I didn't have to. I didn't need to. Because I had no pain.

Sure I need my pelvis and my neck done but so what. It's actually better in my neck... or was... yesterday wasn't so kind to it.

What was cool was the FBI was surprised and amazed. I'm gonna cry. Because they have been such a huge support for me. My doctor checking on me constantly answering the lamest and most unintelligent questions over and over. He's so kind. The FBI asks questions about the pain I had from the procedures. Asking how to avoid things and how to do others and making sure that I would be pain free. It's amazing. I'm so so lucky they referred me there and I got treatment. It has been a very long process taking 3 months but finally we finished and I'm so lucky

My pain started suddenly. Out of the blue. And just got worse and worse. My regular doctor wouldn't give me stronger pain medication and wouldn't help me. So the FBI did. They would tell me about other people that got it done to help me understand and feel better. It hurt. Alot. Alot alot alot. But they were always there just making sure I was okay. Making sure I wouldn't have problems and my doctor, he would do it on his own because he's awesome but the FBI just dragging him along, what's this and what's that and she feels this and that is that normal? We're lucky he didn't get a restraining order! They sent other guys and girls in the FBI to be treated by my doctor so they knew what was normal in the office and they could see what happens. Of course they double, triple and annoyingly checked. Just for me. I help alot of people.

And today I had 2 different guys try to kill me and the third on the fence. So as you can imagine add in Denise and all the others i complain about, it's quite overwhelming of negativity. Mental and emotional strain and pain. And a heart condition causes physical problems as well.

So I'm not gonna say i couldn't handle it on my own because I made the decision to try it, full throttle all the way. Even if I had to lie --- which I didnt. Thank god it worked. The first day I had pain in my side. I studied it and memorized it to the point I was severely anti social. And after despite insane pain from needles and lidocaine injections and my back already being swollen clear across my entire upper ass region. The pain I studied was gone. I knew for a fact.

But I decided if I had to, I would lie. Because I didn't have a choice. I couldn't walk just to the bathroom sometimes. I can't have back surgery. I'm a mean bitch (they say I just say I'm aomtim bitch but whatever) and I can stand up to billionaires and people trying to kill me, swat teams, guns in front of idiot ass holes, kidnappers. All sorts of the craziest shit that sometimes doesn't even seem real. But I'm scared to death of back surgery. I've heard so many times it doesn't work and just makes shit worse. It's like chemo. Two things I never want to do and may elect not to, even if my life will be over sooner.

I suppose if I got in a fight with some dude trying to kill me, I would end up with needing it. But that's like an award. A battle scar. It's different. It's all yeah I kicked his ass and saved mine. It sounds so fucking awesome to me. It's uplifting because I survived but yeah of course I had to work really really super hard at it because I hurt myself to the point of surgery. So it's like a feeling. God says he's sorry and so he's gonna not let me suffer anymore and allow the surgery to be 100% successful.

I mean at that point. Maybe I need some metal in my back, to deflect bullets and be all bulletproof.

So yeah. I'm not a liar. That's the point. I don't have to lie.

Sometimes being late for work or taking my daughter to work I'll think of all these fantastic lies that I could say to make my being late super important. By the end, i get there and I'm all "Man we were fucking asleep" not fucking tho. Just sleeping. Truth sounds human. Normal. We all fuck up. Sometimes more than enough nut we do and it's better to tell the truth that you were sleeping than to try to keep all your lies straight. Because when your boss wants to fire you and looks at your file and you're all "I over slept so I was an hour late" "I had a hangover and I killed my alarm and didn't know what it was" they're gonna be all... on one hand they're always late on the other hand they're completely honest

So I just tell the truth. What? I fuck up. Punish me if you want but I'm real. I'm a real human being. And I'm not gonna lie to you.

Honesty is so important. My mother is a master we manipulator and brain washer. So fuck it. Be honest

Then you'll have an idiot marvel at how you can move an air conditioner in less than ten seconds that a weight lifter couldn't. I don't have a reason to lie. I don't like lying. I don't mind tricks so much. Like implying I had Matt's baby when really it was my cousin's and it was a girl not a boy. Or implying I was at Matt's hide away house when really i was at my aunt's. Those are different. Sometimes you have ro test the waters. And I Never said a lie. I allowed you to lead yourself to believe something you wanted to believe or not believe if you think I can be yours. And you wanted to have an anger fit. Or be happy for me.

You know, honestly in was wishing. I was wishing that it was true so there was a deep make believe in the story. But it was all make believe which just now that term just totally made a different sense to me. Make believe = believing something someone made you think. I always thought make believe was imagination. Not some twisted Hitler Denise shit. But yeah. That's all Denise. It's horrible. Like finding out a sing along song is about the plague.

I've had a rather shocking day and so has my hit man so I'll be quiet for awhile. See if I can get my dropped jaw to stop letting all the humidity out my mouth.

So Mr Hitman, Reporter fool. If you get bored think about how you will defend yourself against an air conditioner being used as a weapon.... on your drive done to see me.

Or just put yourself to bed. All your friends are in jail. I don't think they will mind that you weaked out and broke your promises to them.

Of course you would probably need to hide from them when they find you chickened out. So then you would need paradise money. But then the FBI is just gonna arrest you if you do or if you dont.

The FBI thinks you should turn yourself in.

I'm not licensed to do this so let's entertain ourselves for a moment before I go:

The Hitman is an adrenaline junkie, he thinks he's strongest and wisest and must send the weaker out before him. And it's true, he did.

Yet he believes what he wants to, mostly lies he tells himself. Like I'm a liar. He's gonna get paid. There's no FBI protecting me.

If I was him and really believe myself but saw the light but still wanted freedom. Personally I would run. No GPS. In woods. Swamps, water. Making myself as cold as possible so the heat lamps wouldn't find me. But I'm a loner and kinda crazy.

So this guy will probably go hide out at a friend's house and then get their house raided so then he has even more enemies.

The FBI tells me he has no way out and he should turn himself in.

So that or go Rambo.

I guess go to the Casino, try that fantasy on the plane trick, if you can win.

I guess also, if it were me. I would go all out. Night on the town like you wouldn't believe. Remember when you get arrested that's the shit you leave jail in. If you get that opportunity. So definitely arrest me in heels and the most sparkled soft beautiful dress you can imagine. So when I finally get out. I look like a Million bucks. So that my outside space resembles my inside space. That final freedom.

Then pick up where I left off that night I got arrested. Out. Drinking. Smoking. Fucking. Whatever i want as my last harrauh.

If you turn yourself in then you still can dress it up. Maybe something a little tight you haven't worn on awhile cause you plan to do them push ups all kinds while in the pen. So when you get out its it's a double celebration.

Anyways. That's me. Either I'm all Rambo style in the mud in the dead of winter or I'm in a ball gown. It's so difficult to decide.

Ball gown is so much calmer. Plus after getting out Rambo clothes are gonna be dirty. They don't let you wash them before you go home. So.

I would probably ask for 5 hours on the town and then arrest me.. me. You would have to arrest, I'll be honest. Fuck that turning myself in bullshit. Yet on the other hand, cops are less rough when you're all "okay. I know it's time. Hi"

And the cops they laugh cause they're so surprised. They're all the fuck?? You make their day. And even if your day sucks for you, it's a nice feeling to make someone else's a little awesome.

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