#maybe they’ll still make a fifth and a sixth one… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heymeowmao · 2 months ago

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2024.08.17 - https://weibo.com/l/wblive/p/show/1022:2321325068458969923865

LYN: Hallo everybody, good evening. I am Liu Yuning. Welcome~ LYN: I need to tell you- Happy 817! C: You’re finally streaming! LYN: It’s not that bad, right? It hasn’t even been that long since my last stream. /hic/ Sorry. I ate something before I started streaming. The last time I streamed, it was- /hic/ What’s wrong with me?? Hold on- Let me get some water. C: Did you lie? LYN: No- I had something to eat before I started streaming. Maybe I inhaled it too quickly. I was afraid I wouldn’t have the strength to keep streaming, so I thought I’d eat something beforehand. So I’ll.. stream for a little while today. Someone also said, “you’re finally streaming” and I don’t think “finally” is appropriate, is it? I streamed only a few days ago, it hasn’t been that long. I’ve got to make sure you’re well fed. I’m sure that there are no other artists out there like me, who come to stream when they have nothing better to do.

C: You’re pink and soft~ LYN: Yes~ After all some of you have spent six- though I’ve debuted for six years, this is the seventh 817 together. You’ve grown with me for seven years! Think about it. If one of you were 35 years old when you first starting liking me back then, and have stuck with me to this day, then you’d be (at least) 41 now. Isn’t that right? If you were 18 when you first started liking me, then this year you’d be… 18 + 6… 24 years old. You’ve probably started a job now, huh? So I wanted to dress young so that we collectively feel younger. C: This is my fifth 817. LYN: For some, this could be their first. Second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh. There might even be an eighth. C: I was 14 when I started liking you. LYN: Then, adding six years you’d be… 20 this year. How nice.

LYN: For the friends who are new or for the people who are just passing by and have unknowingly found themselves here- what is 817? It’s not a particularly special day, but for my fans and I, it is. People are wondering why 817 is a fan-day? It’s because the year I debuted, I had held a fanmeet. I invited a lot of people- I think it was 300? We set 8/17 every year as a festival for my fans. It’s quite a happy thing. Every year around this time, we can be happy and spend it a little like a festival- it’s a holiday of our own. LYN: There are many of my fans grouped in all different locations. For example- I won’t be naming any specific locations. Because if I say, “Shanghai, Beijing, Liaoning”- once I start naming cities and provinces, then I have to name them all. For example, I name Zhejiang, but not Henan. Then the fans in Henan will say, “What’s the big idea? Are you looking down on Henan fans? You don’t even want to mention us??” If I name Henan, but not Hebei: “Are you looking down on Hebei?” That’s not it. In the end I’d be naming them all. There are “sheds”- that is, my fan groups- in all different locations. On this day, 8/17, they’ll gather together to rent out a place, have a meal, and share their stories and the happiness they’ve gained from chasing the star known as Liu Yuning. They’ll use all their different dialects to describe how handsome and cool I am in their eyes. It’s that sort of festival, where they flatter me. No- I can’t say it like that. It’s where they make plans for the next 817 festival day. LYN: It’s just a small get-together for my fans, and they spend it happily. I’ve seen that some rent out a place, and even a huge screen. It’s like a wedding venue! Also, I was thinking- would it be bad of me to stream at this time? Because I’m sure that even at this moment, there are groups that are still in the midst of their gathering. Possibly, many of them are watching right now through their phones, or if they have a big screen maybe they’ll cast this to the screen to watch my stream. Right? :D Look- we’re even interacting. If there are people watching me right now, I’m sure they’d have all collectively answered, “Right!” It’s like a concert, now. LYN: I hope- I’m guessing- that the places you’ve rented out are private spaces? Because if it’s a public space and there are other guests in the area, they’re probably thinking that I’m crazy. You all also don’t look very sane. So, I hope you can be more discreet.

LYN: But I was wondering if it would be okay for me to stream at this time, because it’s past 8p, almost 9p. Tjey probably started eating around 6p or 7p, and eating would take about an hour. Many of my fans, though female, have probably already started drinking. I was afraid that many of you’d already be… so happy you’re dizzy with it. [read: drunk] If you’re watching my stream on top of that, too much excitement might not be a good thing. C: I can drink more than you! LYN: I’m sure you can. I’m peanuts- my tolerance is no good. I’m SURE you can drink more than I can, you don’t need to compare. There’s no need.

LYN: Alright, well. Ning-ge will use water as wine and make a toast to you all. Let’s all raise our cups! You- drink water or soft drinks, if you can. Grab your cola or sprite and let’s go. Here’s to you. Happy Holiday! C: Use tea as wine. LYN: Okay, okay. C: Ganbei! Ganbei, lao-da! LYN: Some of you started a chant: “Drain it! Drain it!” This type of person- that’s not very good of you. You think you’re being very enthusiastic, but we’re trying to get people to NOT drink. Also- I’m drinking water, not wine. We’re not limiting water- drink as much as you want. If our emotions are deep, then- ?? Why did I say that? Well, it doesn’t matter. Let’s go. If our emotions are deep, then down it in one shot. If our emotions are shallow, then just sip. (感情深一口闷; 感情浅，舔一舔.) - /drains his glass but also pours a little water on his keyboard/ LYN: (acting drunk) /hurk/ Sorry- I drank too much, friends. I- My alcohol tolerance is really low. I can’t keep you company anymore, so- drink and be happy amongst yourselves. I can’t drink anymore. Look at how red my face is. I’m not a good drinker at all. I really can’t hold it. One glass and I’m out. You uh- if you want to drink, then you continue. Be happy.

LYN: Many of you are probably at home? I read a comment that said, “I just finished cleaning up the house and you started streaming.” That’s great. If you’re at home you can be nice and comfortable. Grab some snacks and we can spend a few relaxing and happy hours together. C: I’m on a diet. LYN: Oh, you’re on a diet? Then, restrain yourself a little. Don’t grab any snacks.

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C: Lao-da, do you know any Mongolian? LYN: I don’t speak any. But I can sing it. :) I think I only know one line, though. Does that count? I don’t know. -- 乌兰巴托的夜 (The Night in Ulaanbaatar) LYN: This probably doesn’t count as Mongolian… - /looking something up on his phone & struggling with it/ -- 鸿雁 (Swan Goose) LYN: No, the- the translation/pronunciation that it’s giving me doesn’t look… Let me try again. - /take 2/ LYN: Again! - /take 3/ LYN: /laughs/ Ah- let’s forget it. I accidentally got carried away with it. Excuse me.

C: Ning-ge, did you drink? LYN: I just drank two mouthfuls of some water as wine, didn’t I? But I didn’t expect that it would go to my head. So, I didn’t drink but I am a little “drunk” with it.

C: If you haven’t checked in today, go do it. LYN: Okay. If you haven’t checked in yet on my Super Topic, this is a reminder to go do it.

C: Rang Jiu. LYN: I think today is also- what is it called- Daomi Festival, right? That is- a festival for fans of DMBJ. What a coincidence, that it’s the same day as my fan-day as well. Also coincidentally, I sang the song for Tomb of the Sea and have acted as Hei Yanjing. I think there’s some fate there. C: What a coincidence! LYN: It is! I don’t know if I’ll be able to sing it well, but how about I give it a try? I’ll try.

LYN: /laughs/ Do these make me look overly cute? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. At least it can cover how red my face will get, because this song is goes pretty high. -- 让酒 (Let the Wine) LYN: !!! It’s been too long since I last sang this song! I missed the timing for the chorus, sorry. Let me start from the top. Let’s stop the previous segment there, and then erase it. LYN: /pretending he’s drunk/ This is, ah- drinking and singing don’t mix well. But I didn’t drink any alcohol. I’m joking, friends. Oh, look. The producer (of the song) is Song Pengfei. That’s our good friend. [t/n: Ning-ge’s fans are called “pengfei.”] Let’s try again, properly this time. Excuse me. -- 让酒 (Let the Wine) (take 2)

C: Lao-da, let’s sing “chi” together. LYN: Let’s not, because the track I have is for the female key. (hard for him to sing along to)

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C: Lao-da, read my comment and my heart’s wish will be fulfilled. LYN: You can’t say such things. There is no “fulfillment of your heart’s wish”- you will encounter so many different goals at different stages of your life. This might be your current wish, but you will have many more in the future.

C: (Wang) Yizhe saw your commentary. LYN: I know- he made a reaction video to my reaction. I saw it. It was fun. An interaction between friends.

C: Ning-ge, I want to watch your livestream- LYN: Let me imitate this friend’s way of speech. They’re probably a student, to have made such an innocent comment. [t/n: he uses the word “chunzhen”, yes- homophonous with the yogurt.] They said, “Ning-ge, should I do my homework, or watch your stream?” They asked such a question. I think it’s like this- definitely do your homework first. Your studies come first. As for my stream, there’s always the playback when it ends. When you’re finished with your homework you can lie down on your bed and watch. Or maybe tomorrow when you have the time. You don’t necessarily need to watch me stream live. There’s not really a difference between a live stream and a pre-recorded one. Actually, right at this moment you’re watching a recorded stream, it’s just that you don’t know it yet. This is recorded, and is just playing. You might see me sitting here now, but actually I’m outside eating some hotpot.

C: But watching “live (at location)” has more feel. LYN: Are you watching a concert, what are you talking about, “live” has more feel??? It’s not worth it. This is all there is to a stream. Even though we are far apart, we’re just meeting through a screen- be that a phone or a computer or cast to a tv or tablet. There’s nothing to watching it “live (at location).”

C: Can you see our comments with those glasses on? LYN: Yes? Just because I’m wearing them doesn’t mean that I’m blind. How could I not see them??

C: Is your blush a filter or what? LYN: It’s a filter I turned on to match today’s pink shirt. /turns it off/ Now it’s normal. My face isn’t pink. It was a filter.

C: Lao-da, when will the soybean oil you owe me come into stock? LYN: My studio really did help me to buy oil and rice today. When I came home today they asked me if they should move the goods into my streaming room, so that I can show you that I have them prepared. I said, “Forget it.” Why? Because if you really start taking me seriously, then this would be a difficult thing to facilitate. Sometimes, and mostly in my streams, a lot of the things I say aren’t exactly outright joking but more abstract and you can’t tell. But I discovered that when I’m trying to be abstract and joking, there are really some people who are taking me seriously. I’m speaking in an abstract sense, but people are really believing it. So… I’m afraid that one day my joke will turn into a lifetime of silence. So I told them to forget it, because if I really bring oil and rice here today, you’re going to spread the news. Then, it will be that I secretly let some people receive theirs and some people don’t get any. Then people will stop checking in to the Super Topic (because they have no more expectations). I don’t need anyone really taking that promise seriously. I’d be in big trouble, then. C: You can only trust 20% of what he says. LYN: Yes. Only trust 20%

- /keeps “cheers-ing”/ LYN: Water as wine. Today we’re celebrating a holiday… C: Raising fish… // Drain it! LYN: /sigh/ It’s just water, what’s there to drain?? I don’t think I should have said what I did, earlier. “If our emotions are deep, then down it in one shot.” I shouldn’t have said it. Because now every time I pick up my cup I get the feeling you want me to drain it. LYN: If you’re going to keep making me do that, then the neighbors will be fighting soon. Very quickly. They’re going to start fighting. Hold on, let me pour more into the cup. But know that if you keep making me drain it, the neighbors are going to be fighting really soon. (t/n: he’ll need to go use the restroom, lmao) C: It’s okay, we have the videos.

C: How about spending the new year? (stream past 12a) LYN: I don’t think I will be able to stream for very long tonight. I have a bunch of scenes tomorrow to shoot, so I’ll stream until it’s about time and then go. Don’t try to force me to stay.

C: Lao-da, I can see your blackheads. LYN: That’s a bit much, isn’t it? Has the quality of the video increased so much that you can even see my blackheads?? That’s amazing.

LYN: (backtracking) So I thought I would forget it, and not show off any oil or rice. I was afraid if I showed you actual product, you all would start requesting your allocations. This venture is a little too large of a scale, I honestly don’t think I would be able to pull it off.

C: Ning-ge, smile at the camera so I can take a screenshot. LYN: /makes a crying face instead/

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LYN: It’s another 817, yeah. LYN: We posted a video for the day, right? And in it there were a lot of clips, especially from my concert. I felt a little emotional seeing it, because it’s been five years ago now. I do miss it. So I was wondering if… it was about time for me to have my next concert. LYN: 1. I am, actually, a singer. So a concert is a must. 2. When I’m watching the video I really will feel a bunch of emotions and miss being in concert. I’ll start imagining what it was like in the venue. I really need to look into finishing up dramas this year and start working on my concert next. I should work on my music. C: Release your album first. LYN: Yes, very soon. Once this drama wraps I’ll go and finish up my album. We’ll make plans to post some things, and then it will be released. After it’s released we can just get the concert sorted out for next year and we’ll be set. That’s my current plan. - C: How many shows for Beijing? LYN: I don’t yet have the confidence to say that all my tickets will be sold out. I’m not like others, where a ticket is hard to acquire. For me, the concert goers are hard to acquire. If I open too many shows and no one buys the tickets I would die of embarassment. There’s no point if I’d be singing to myself. I’ve heard enough of that as is. So I was thinking just a moderate amount would be enough. One stop per city. As long as everyone can see me and I can perform well, that’s enough. C: Arrange more shows. I really won’t be able to fight for a ticket. LYN: That’s nonsense! Many of you always give me the misconception that my tickets are hard to get. The sales aren’t even open yet, and you’re already acting as if they’re sold out. Stop fooling me. I won’t believe it. - LYN: But after I saw that video (for 817), I thought I would finally start making plans to hold my concert next year. It’s about time, and something I should have been working on. LYN: So, I wanted to say that MAYBE next year I’ll hold my concert. Maybe. It’s still only a possibility right now. But the probability is high because I really want to have it.

C: Ning-ge, open reservations and let’s see how many you’ll need. LYN: Are there pre-reservations for concert tickets?? I don’t know about it. I mean, a reservation is fine but when actual sales open and people don’t finalize to buy the ticket, don’t we have the same problem?? So, let’s just see when the time comes. Keep feeding your piggybanks. LYN: I really think that the investment to go to a concert is really very high. It’s not as simple as tickets. Those can range from a few hundred to a few thousand (RMB). But the problem is that many of you are coming from surrounding areas to the city nearest you. There’s the ground transport and airfare, which could rack up to a few thousands. If you live close, maybe you can get away with just a train ticket. But then there’s the cost for hotel. It’s a lot of logistics and expenses to think about. It’s costly, so start saving up in your piggybanks. Once tickets sales are open, you can smash the piggy and rush over.

C: Lao-da, can minors attend? LYN: ? That, I really don’t know. Probably! A lot of my friends are mothers now, and my male fans are fathers- I always see them bringing their kids. I’m not too sure on how the tickets were sold, though. You should be able to buy tickets. I mean, there’s no- I can GUARANTEE that there will not be any nudity (or content not suitable for minors) at this concert. For example if I’m singing, and then all of a sudden it goes to my head and I rip my shirt off. There will be none of that happening, so I’m sure that minors can attend. There will probably be no such impulsive behaviors. C: Kids can buy tickets as normal. LYN: I think so, yeah.You should be able to go. I saw kids in my concerts all the time, so you should be able to come. Rest assured. LYN: Wait- because I said that there will not be any shirt-ripping, will that influence my ticket sales? That is- many of you were expecting to see something, but I told you there’s no chance, so you no longer look forward to it as much as you did before?

C: Where to buy tickets? LYN: You’ll find out later, when I’m ready to have the concert. I’ve only talking hypothetically, up until now. I saw the video for 817 and I missed those times. I’ve spent the last two years constantly shooting for dramas, and I think it’s about time that I work on my music now. C: You’ve spent the last five years shooting dramas. LYN: Yes, I have but I also sang a lot of OSTs. Still though, I haven’t released any of my own music, so I’m really very ashamed.

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C: Ning-ge, do you need copyright to release/play a song? LYN: In my stream? Probably not? If I’m using it for business (profit) then that’s probably no. But if I’m just listening to it, there shouldn’t be any problem. My stream is strictly no business- I don’t “officially” promote dramas, I don’t try to sell you anything, and I don’t accept gifts. It’s just a normal entertainment stream, so playing some music in the background probably wouldn’t violate any copyright rules. Even if I did, I don’t think it would warrant anyone suing me?? LYN: Right now I am playing YoungCaptain’s song. I don’t expect him to sue me tomorrow. I don’t think it’s worth it. After all we have what counts as a small collaboration. This goes for anyone- I don’t think me playing their songs in my stream would garner such a severe reaction as them suing me. It’s not worth it.

C: Ning-ge, be the spokesperson for the cologne that you always use. LYN: ? You know, I alway see comments online saying, “Every time Ning-ge walks past us, he smells so nice!” ? “What cologne is he using??” I keep thinking about this and I- ??? I don’t think it’s me? It’s probably on YOU, and when I walk by I stir up the wind. So what you’re smelling is the other friends who are there. I don’t think it’s any smell of cologne from me. Probably when I walk by- breeze by- and what you’re smelling is the perfume from the fans before you. Then I bring the scent of whatever YOU’RE wearing to the person next to you. And so on and so forth. So you’ll never be able to tell exactly what scent it is. It’s the combined smell of countless perfumes that you all are wearing, not what I am wearing. LYN: If you ask me if I USE any cologne/perfume, of course I do, but mostly for events where I have to make an appearance. So at the very least I don’t smell like sweat- I’d like to smell nice. But I always change it up. What’s the basis of this? Because sometimes I use my makeup artist’s. Sometimes I use my hair stylist’s. Sometimes I use my assistants’. Then sometimes I use my own. It’s not a sure thing, so there’s always a different scent. C: How much do you spray?? You must have to use a lot. LYN: Let me tell you- one time- you really shouldn’t spray too much perfume. If you put on too much it’s truly excruciating. One time I took a plane, and the person next to me had so much on. It smelled nice, sure. But I was almost choking on it- even through my face mask.

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C: How did the fight go? LYN: Don’t ask! Why do you need to know about things that have nothing to do with you… It’s fine- they weren’t fighting. It was just the sound of the tv. C: They’re watching A Lonely Hero’s Journey (Gu Zhou). LYN: Yes, probably. I didn’t clearly see what they were watching. It was probably GZ.

LYN: There’s someone who keeps wanting me to talk about my work- you can stop spamming. It’s endless. Why would I come to stream, just to chat about that? I don’t know what you’re thinking, asking me to “talk about this” and “how did you feel about that”. Are you crazy? Who am I, to talk about that stuff in my stream? I don’t know what you’re thinking, but stop spamming. LYN: How shameless do you think I am, to talk about those topics?? You really don’t consider me a stranger, do you. You’re still spamming. I’m not kidding. This is a matter of respect for this industry and for the people I’ve worked with.

C: Lao-da, you’re trending. #31. LYN: I don’t believe it. There’s no way. Absolutely no way! LYN: Let me take a look. LYN: … /sits in silence, bc he’s not on it/ C: You were on it, but just dropped. LYN: You’re liars! - LYN: Friends, all of a sudden I am feeling a little sleepy. I feel like sleep is coming. I have a song called 狂风袭来 (strong wind is raging)- but now I feel sleep coming. [t/n: making a language pun] I want to sleep, now. Maybe I should take a shower and then just go to sleep? Everything is possible, in a dream. [t/n: he can be trending in his dream XD] C: Sleep early. Getting enough sleep is important. LYN: I’ll stay a little longer, but good night to you. Let’s not force it. - LYN: Someone just asked a profound question, “Is a trending topic that important?” Let me think of how to respond to that. If I say it’s not important would that be disrespectful to weibo, because being on such far-reaching network and to be trending is actually a huge form of support for an artist? But if I say it IS important, then there’s that added connotation of exploitation. If I say it’s important, then you’re going to think that the only reason I stream is so that I can be on the list of trending topics. It makes me look shallow. There’s no good way to answer this question. LYN: But I do want to say that it does have importance. Because if I am on the trending topics, people might see that and then make their way into my stream. They might not know me, or understand me, or only know of me only due to all the negative comments, but through a single stream- if they stay five or even ten minutes- it’s possible that their impression of me could change. Maybe they’d think, “LYN is not as annoying as I thought. He looks pretty normal, and not as bad as everyone is saying he is.” It’s like that. I believe the purpose of the trending topic is so that many more people get to know me and understand me. Once they know my name, perhaps in the future when I release a song or one of my dramas airs- they’ll check it out because they remember that they watched five minutes of my stream once. Every consumer is important. Each and every one of you is important. So, I still hope that I can have a trending topic, so that people can come to know of me.

C: I never thought a trending topic could influence so much… LYN: It’s not, really. It’s okay if I don’t have a topic, but if I had one it would be even better. It’s just icing on the cake, but life without it goes on as normal.

C: When will you come to Xinjiang? I’ll take you to eat delicious foods. LYN: Okay. I’ll go to play if I find the opportunity, and eat your delicious foods.

C: Ning-ge, does Daimi lose her color? LYN: ?? Does she lose her color? Do you really think she’s a mop?? Actually… she has changed color. When I first got her, she was black and white. But as I continued raising her, she’s turned grey and white. I think part of the reason for this is maybe what we’re feeding her, which has caused her color to not be as black and shiny as before. She doesn’t really eat dog food. She eats sausages- that’s her main source of sustenance. She’ll only eat dog food if you hand feed it to her. She might not eat it if you give her two pieces at once. You have to feed her piece by piece. When she’s had enough she’ll stop. She likes snacks.

C: Lao-da, I’m about to start school. Can you try to stream on the weekends rather than during the week? LYN: There’s no problem with this. I’ll stream when I stream, and you can watch the playback as needed. The two don’t contradict. My streams are not at a fixed time/day. When the time comes and you can’t make it, you can just watch the playback.

C: Can you help me do my homework? LYN: I can’t help you.

LYN: ! Last time someone in the comments wrote, “Ning-ge, I lost my dog!” and then just now I think I saw “Ning-ge, I found my dog!” Congratulations. Also- I don’t know if you would like hearing this or not, but- small dogs are a part of your family (and should be treated as such). It looks like a small dog, but it’s really a small person. Suddenly losing them is a painful thing, but I’m glad you found it and I hope you learned from that. Be sure to keep a good eye on them from now on. LYN: My dog, too, would run. When I was shooting dramas before- we live in the hotel, right- as soon as the door opens, she would run outside. She just wanted to go outside to play, I don’t know what for. She wanted to be outside. One day, she got out and when I finally realized and started to look for her she wasn’t even on the same floor anymore. It scared me to death. Becuase there are so many floors, I went one by one looking for her. I had already looked for several floors with no sign of her. After a while, I don’t remember who told me, but they said, “There’s a small dog in the first floor lobby.” I went down immediately to see her wandering around. She took the elevator down. It was stopped on our floor and she probably got in and rode it down. Once on the ground floor she was dazed, looking around at everyone and thinking none of them looked like me. I almost lost her, that day. It was a long time ago now, but be sure to keep an eye on small dogs.

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C: Ning-ge, I lost my older brother. Could I borrow you for a few days? LYN: How about no? Forget it. LYN: You can consider me as your brother from a distant place, who you have no contact with. Go ahead and consider me your brother, but our relationship is that we are not in contact. Let’s make an example: you are my sister. We’re born from the same parents, and I’ve always wanted to learn art but we’re a transfer student family that has businesses in all different places. We have billions in inheritance. Our father wanted me to take over the family business, to become the owner of said billions. But I wanted to pursue music and acting, so I refused to inherit and decided to leave home. Our father said, “If you step out those doors, don’t ever think of coming back!” I walked to the door and turned back with a wry smile, replying, “I would never return to this house even if I died!” I slammed open the door and very unpolitely left. I’ve been out on my own ever since then. I deleted every contact from home I had including you, sister. I deleted your contact info. There’s no way I’m going home because honestly I am very happy now. I’m doing what I like to do. Please take over the billions in family inheritance for me. Our family business is counting on you. LYN: I am your brother, but we aren’t in contact and we can’t meet. Just forget it.

C: In order to fulfill your dreams, you won’t even acknowledge your sister anymore?? LYN: I think it’s like this- It’s not that I’m not acknowledging that I have a sister, it’s that this episode is not up to the reuniting step yet. On 8/17/2024, that part of the series has not been uploaded yet. Later my sister and I will fight over the inheritance, but that’s in a later stream. At this point in the story, we are not in contact. I am pursuing my dreams and she is at home preparing to take over the business. Reuniting comes later. C: Reunite when you’re 60. LYN: 60 is a little late. Let me tell you my life plan: after a certain amount of time, it could be one or several years later, I will suddenly come to realize that my family is the most important. I’ve already accomplished what I wanted to for my dreams, and I experience some event that makes me think that family is important. So I go home. There is sure to be such an episode. Let’s not rush.

C: Ge, what if our dad accepts you? LYN: Meimei, you mean that Dad accepts that I want to sing? LYN: There’s no way. I don’t believe it. Don’t try to trick me! I think you must be working together- to trick me into coming back home. No way. I can’t go back.

C: Ning-ge, my friend says that you’re not sane. LYN: /sigh/ What sort of terrible friend?? /laughs/ You don’t have the greatest taste (in friends).

C: Dad already told me. Ge, actually, I’m adopted. Ge, come back. Let’s start over. LYN: Oh- So you’re saying that Dad is insistent on giving the business over to me and not you because you’re adopted? Oh~ So you’re adopted. We have no blood ties? - [t/n: I can see where this is going (love story), and how LYN is trying to get around that. XD] LYN: /smirks/ Wow, so thrilling?? LYN: But there’s a problem- which is that you didn’t know that I’ve always known about your birth. Dad SAYS that you were adopted but the truth is you are the daughter he had with another woman. Since it’s come to this, I have to tell you the truth. I am still your brother. We have the same father, but different mothers. Our dad tricked you. Don’t overthink this. Let’s maintain some distance.

C: Ge! I also want to be a celebrity. Why don’t you show me the ropes? LYN: Huh?? Sis, let me tell you- the life of an artist may LOOK shining and brilliant but actually it’s hard. It’s hard to get good footing in this industry. It’s not anything like what you’re thinking. Also- it’s not so easy. You think I can help you become a celebrity? I’m not even doing very well myself. If I try to bring you up, I’m afraid that we’ll both fall. Sorry, but it won’t work. I can’t take care of you. Stop thinking about it. LYN: Just take your billions in inheritance and have a nice life.

C: Ge, if I can’t be a celebrity, then can you take me to meet some instead? LYN: Oh, so for example I have a celebrity friend and you want to meet them, so I take you to see them? So it turns out that you weren’t a fan of me, your brother, after all? The reason you’re a fan of your brother is so that you can see other celebrities?? You’re not going to ask me to help you get their autograph next, are you???

C: Ge, my best friend says that you sound like a duck! LYN: Ah. I sound like a duck??! No way, right? It doesn’t sound that bad, does it? What are you talking about?? LYN: What a terrible best friend! What type of people are you hanging out with all the time?? LYN: QUACK!

C: Ning-ge, so you did have resources backing you after all. LYN: “LYN must have someone backing him in the industry” and today the truth has come out. That’s right- it’s the Liu Group’s business empire. The story goes like this, friends: it all started from ten years ago. I decided to leave home that day- when my father said, “If you step out those doors, don’t ever think of coming back!” and I rudely talked back at him, saying, “I would never return to this house even if I died!” I started out on my own, to pursue my dream of music, me- the prince of the Liu Group. I went to pursue my dreams. At the start it was like hitting a wall, but inexplicably, slowly, I started to become more and more successful. I started finding jobs one after another. But the truth is that the Liu Group- my father- was secretly helping me. He found some companies and told them that if he invested then they would need to bring his son work in return. That’s the truth of it. I have the Liu Group Business Empire backing me.

LYN: Everything I have said so far is just for that variety show effect. I’m joking, so please don’t take it seriously or think I am trying to disrespect anyone. This is purely for show. LYN: (This all started) Because there was a friend earlier who wanted to be my little sister.

----------

LYN: Someone said that their best friend think that I sound like a duck when I talk. Now that I’m thinking about it, the more they say it, the more like one I become. C: Ning-ge, your voice is a combination of Donald Duck and Minnie Mouse. LYN: What are you talking about?? Who’s Minnie Mouse?

C: Ning-ge, what are you doing after filming wraps? LYN: After wrap I’ll be cleaning up the set after the crew. Move some props. LYN: It’s not set yet, but I have a lot to do after filming wraps. Mostly its music work. I have songs to record and business events. C: Will you have more variety shows? LYN: Only Melody Journey. And then… that’s it I think.

C: Lao-da, this time you’re really on the trending topics. #12. LYN: You’re lying to me! Really? I’m afraid to look! LYN: Let me see what’s up! - /checks it/ /is sad/ LYN: I’m sure that it was not this friend’s intention to trick me, but that they didn’t hit “trending topics” but “MY trending topics”- so it’s not the same list. You clicked on YOUR trending topics- the one IN YOUR HEART, not Weibo’s trending topics! I’m already only #13 in your heart, so what other good news do you have to tell me?? LYN: If you haven’t yet subscribed to my weibo, please so do. Thank you, everyone. C: Gege, I’m sorry. In MY trending topics, you’re #30. LYN: /laugh cries/ Today is 817, isn’t it? You want to anger me to death, don’t you? [t/n: number pun - 把我气] LYN: You dare to trick me? I think that you no longer wish to keep working in this industry. Woman- you’re playing with fire.

LYN: No but really, I’m ok. It doesn’t really matter to me if I’m trending or not. I’m only streaming- what’s there to talk about? I always stream, so it’s not a rare thing. If other artists start streaming and end up on the trending topics because of it, that’s normal. But I always stream. C: You don’t “always” stream, you stream once a month now. LYN: Once a month is already not bad. Since August has started this is already my second stream. What more do you want?

LYN: I discovered that I have an influx of student-fans. I suspect that they’re ELEMENTARY students. Because what they’re saying is so childish. “Lao-da, can you help me do my homework.” Do you think I would have gone to cooking school if I were able to solve your problem sets? I would have gone to Tsinghua or PKU, instead of grilling sweet potatoes.* And you want me to do your homework?? [t/n: 考上 (kǎo shàng) - admitted to vs. 烤上 (kǎo shàng) - grilled] C: I thought you grilled corn? LYN: I’ve done it all. LYN: They were admitted to Tsinghua. You were admitted to PKU. In the end, I grilled sweet potatoes… and corn.

C: Do you think I should go to sleep or continue watching your stream? LYN: Go to sleep. It’s already past 10p. It’s about time. You should sleep or rest when you need to.

C: Let Liu Group’s Business Empire invest in Weibo. That way you can be at whatever number on the trending topics you want. LYN: Liu Group’s Business Empire is in a parallel universe. It’s a different place from where we are right now. Don’t misunderstand. The story I was talking about earlier was about the me from a parallel universe, not the me from this universe, right now. I was merely communicating a little with someone in the parallel universe, is all.

C: Have you given any thought into being my dad? LYN: /crosses his arms in the shape of an “X”/ LYN: Don’t mess around. You just threw me back to the days when I was playing 劲舞团 (Jin Wu Tuan) [??]. I used to love playing that game, spending my days in the internet cafe like this: /keyboard asmr/. “Boss, could I get instant noodles over here?” LYN: There were families or whatever in that game, and there would always be people going, “I’m the father/I’m the mother. You are my daughter.” At the time I thought those people were so childish. But now Ning-ge has grown up, or rather- he’s gotten old, so I can’t play like that anymore.

C: Lao-da, I’ll be starting school in a few days, console me. LYN: It’s good to be able to pursue studies. Why should I console you? You’re lucky, but you just don’t know it.

C: Ning-ge, could you get me an autograph from Jackson Yee? LYN: Uhm. I think if I were to thicken my skin and boldly ask him for one, I would probably be able to get one. If I ask, I think he would likely give me one. I don’t think it would be a problem. But I want to ask- why should I?? Why would I do such a thing for you? I just want to ask. Are you associated with Liu Group’s Business Empire? C: Ning-ge, ask for an autograph for me and I will throw 100mil at you. LYN: /laughs/ /muttering/ You all must be crazy!

------ Break #2

C: It’s my first time hearing you whistle. LYN: !! -- 手写童话 (Handwritten Fairy Tale) [Listen-Ning EP] - /singing along/ LYN: Wait- if I’m remembering correctly, I whistle in this song, right? If I’m not wrong it’s this part. Is there, though? I forgot. - /continues singing/

LYN: One day I discovered that I have a LOT of songs… that I don’t remember how to sing anymore. Some that I even forgot existed. But I asked others singers, and they have also had this type of experience. Because sometimes the songs were released long ago or if it was not a particularly well-received song, it doesn’t have a lasting impression.

LYN: Like this song: 不求. Do you still remember it? // I’m trending on the main list at #20? -- 不求 (Do Not Ask) [Single] LYN: This song is pretty old- maybe abound 2019?

LYN: Let me see what other songs there are… that I can’t remember. LYN: This one I can remember, because I heard it in a video edit the other day. This one’s popular lately: -- 当遇见你 (When I Met You) [Skate Into Love OST]

-- 一番星 (A Single Star) [Looking Up OST] -- 昨日少年 (The Youth of Yesterday) [Penguin Highway OST] (LYN: This one was pretty early on.) -- 隐侠 (Hidden Hero) [My Heroic Husband donghua OST (LYN: I quite like this one.) -- 生命之书 (Book of Life) [Glory of Special Forces OST] (LYN: I rarely play this on in my stream, but I do like it.) -- 爱了很久 (I’ve Been in Love for A Long Time) [Twilight OST] (LYN: This one is relatively recent.) -- 眷恋 (Nostalgia) [You Are My Hero OST] -- 本可以 (Could Have Been) [Rattan OST] -- 风衣 (Windbreaker) [Fireworks of My Heart OST] (LYN: This one, I actually really like. There was a stage I wanted to sing it on…) -- 天判 (Judgement of the Underworld) [A New Ghost Story (game) OST] (LYN: This one is old, isn’t it?) -- 愿重逢 (Wish to Reunite) [Choice Husband OST] [t/n: he didn’t actually let this one play.] -- 阳光, 海浪, 我和你 (Sunshine, Waves, Me and You) [Falling into You OST] -- 忠实观众 (Loyal Audience) [Listen-Ning EP] -- 剑魂 (Soul of the Sword) w/ Tan Jianci [20220611 Hello Saturday] -- 最浪漫的忘记 (The Most Romantic Forget) [Never Say Goodbye OST] (LYN: This one, I really have forgotten.)

LYN: Okay, that’s about enough. There are just so many songs that I liked when I was recording them but I haven’t sung them in so long, so it’s a bit of a shame. Later I’ll have to organize them and see which I can sing, then find a stage to properly showcase them. Otherwise they would have been released for nothing. It’d be a waste.

-----

LYN: I’ll chat with you a while longer before leaving. Since it’s 817 today, I just wanted to come celebrate with you, and enjoy a relaxing and beautiful night together.

C: Get Daimi over so I can look at her. LYN: I can’t let her steal my limelight. I don’t want her to. - /calls her over anyway/ LYN: Say hello to all the uncles and aunties.

LYN: Look, she’s still sleep-dazed. She can’t even open her eyes. She was sleeping, how could you have me call her over?? Look at how sleepy she is. She doesn’t want to bother with you. - /pats Daimi/ LYN: It’s okay, I know.

C: It’s “brothers and sisters”! LYN: Nope- say hi to all the uncles and aunties.

LYN: Okay, you can go. Greet them again. /waves her paw/ She’s getting annoyed. LYN: Okay, bye bye. Go play. Go sleep. C: She just left? LYN: Yeah, she’s gone. LYN: ~ She’s gone. Without an ounce of hesitation. It seems like in this world, there is someone more important to her than me. ~

C: Like a gas tank. (round) LYN: No, she’s gotten thinner! These days I’ve been doing my best to limit the amount of sausages she gets. So she’s lost 2kgs. So it’s good- she looks a little less heavy. I think it’s a healthier state of being, for her. She’s definitely not thin, but just a little thinner.

C: She almost can’t run anymore. LYN: Yeah…

C: She needs to go on a diet, too? LYN: No- it’s just that for that period of time she was getting WAY too many sausages. She could eat 10+ in a day. That was honestly a bit remiss of me and totally not sustainable. Nowadays she only gets 5 or 6 a day? 6 or 7? X’D Estimated. It’s good enough.

-----

C: Ning-ge, do you have WeChat? LYN: No, I’m not on that platform. LYN: Also, people were asking me if I’m on other platforms… honestly the only one I’m on right now is weibo. That’s the truth. I’m mainly using weibo, and I’m not on any others.

C: Ning-ge, didn’t you play QQ Xuanwu? LYN: I was playing that, yes. I was good at it, too. I would practice every day.

C: Ning-ge, I didn’t have a signal so I climbed an electric pole to watch your stream. LYN: … LYN: So unsightly? Are you being serious or are you joking? If you’re joking, it’s not funny at all. You should be careful. Get down from there. Stop watching. Go home to watch. C: I’m on a mountain. LYN: That’s nice! When people used to ask me where I wanted to go for vacation, I would always say I wanted to go to a bustling city- Beijing or Shanghai. Because when I was little I really didn’t get out much. The farthest I’d gone was Shenyang- I’m from Dandong. But I was thinking if I ever got the chance to travel I would go to Beijing or Shanghai. Hangzhou, also. But now I really want to find nature. Somewhere where there’s not a lot of signal. I could have a tent or a wooden cabin and grill something over a fire. Like camping- somewhere with a nice view. I really want to go somewhere like that, now. C: Return to nature. LYN: I just want to find someplace where I can calm my heart/mind. Somewhere peaceful/tranquil. It’s just that these past few years- someone said earlier that they’ve spent six 817’s with me- I’ve just been constantly pushing myself forward. I get the feeling that I need to refuel. Even robots need to be maintenanced. LYN: ~ My body is not as good as previous years. Now I’d just like to find a place to peacefully spend my days. I hope you can leave me to return to the mountains and forests. ~

C: You SHOULD rest. LYN: I didn’t before because the more recent dramas were all scheduled pretty tightly close together. After Cicada Girls not a few days passed before I was in the next crew. After that once ended, I was in the next crew soon after. There wasn’t really a break between them. If I had even a month- I had about half a month but there was other work to do- but there was never any time to be still. It was hard enough even to find a whole day to play games or hang out for someplace. So after this drama wraps I’ll probably rest for… three or four years? XD LYN: For me, a day is like a year.

C: Ning-ge, I’m still waiting for a 60 year old you to tear off your shirt. LYN: Rest assured. When I hold my concert when I’m 60, I will definitely show you an old man tearing his shirt off. You just wait. I’ll perform it for you. When I’m sixty- I’ll wear a shirt so worn that it already has holes and so old that it’s yellowed. I’ll tear it off on stage. Why did I choose such a shirt? Because it’s sure to tear. At that time I’d be an old man and probably not have much strength so it needs to be ratty. So I’d wear my sweatpants and slippers and sing for you. -- /Rang Jiu (old man ver.)/ C: After you’ve described it, I don’t want to see it anymore. LYN: If you don’t want to see it then get out. Who cares if you don’t want to see it or not? Even if you don’t want to, there are still others that do. LYN: Think about it- I’ll be sixty. Many of my friends are older or maybe younger than me, but in general our age difference isn’t too big. When you’re 70 years old, or 50-60, what other forms of entertainment will you have?? I know because I’ve seen my mom- there’s mahjong. You’re either going to be playing mahjong or dancing in the square. At that age, for you to be able to go see an old man tear off his shirt - wouldn’t you call that entertainment? Let me tell you- 60 will be my year. I’m guessing it will be the peak of my career. I’ll be up on stage and the audience will be filled with 50-60 year old ladies, watching my concert. It’s going to be amazing.

LYN: Also- at that time you’d have a happy family with your children and grandchildren. You get a monthly retirement fund, and benefits insurance. There’s nothing else for you to do but be happy. You’d have full economic power. There would be no better time for you to buy tickets. LYN: Someone earlier said that they were a student-fan. In that case, you should study well. One day when you’ve graduated from college and have a successful career, at that time you can buy a concert ticket to come see me. Think about it- when all of you are 60-70, have a family and savings, it’s the best time for you. You’d have both time and money. That’s the best time. - C: 60 is the best age to make something of yourself. LYN: I wouldn’t go that far. - C: Ning-ge, is there a senior discount? LYN: No. But if you’re 50-60 and you don’t have the money to buy a concert ticket, you can go ask your children or grandchildren for it. Then, if they don’t give you the funds I will come to stream to back you up. I will continue to maintain streaming all that time, so that when you’re old and your children aren’t filial, I can come here to berate call them out. I’ll give them pressure until they treat you well. You think you’re a fan of LYN, but really you’re a fan of someone who- in case you’re old and your children aren’t filial- you’ll have a friend who will stand up for you.

C: Ning-ge, tickets for seats on the ceiling are fine for me. LYN: You can get them wherever you want- it all depends on your own circumstances. You can buy a ticket for whatever spot you want. As long as you go and have the experience, at least once.

LYN: I don’t know, though. Let’s talk again when I’m sixty. I don’t know what condition I’d be in. I know I always say that your body (health) is most important. To all the young people who are working hard right now- if you’re only in school, you have it a little easier- and for those who have difficult (labor-intensive) jobs: when have we ever paid attention to our own bodies? When have we stopped to consider whether what we’re eating is healthy or not? We haven’t. So I know I always say that health is most important, but it’s hard to put in practice. Still, we should try harder to make it important. Every time I go to the hospital, it’s terrifying. So please stay healthy, okay friends? Let’s all stay healthy so that we can make it to an old age.

LYN: If you have not yet subscribed to my weibo, please do so. I am Modern Brothers Liu Yuning. When I have time I come to stream, but I am also shooting dramas and releasing songs. I am a singer and an actor. If you have the time, I hope you can please support my works. Thank you.

C: Ning-ge, if you’re going to tear your shirt during your concert, then how many rounds (shows) will you do it for? LYN: You must be sick. What sort of a question is that?? LYN: I’ll prepare 100 of them, so that I can tear them all on stage. Tear one, put one on, tear that one, put another one on, etc. The whole performance for the night is just me tearing shirts. Tearing 100 shirts by hand. What do you think?

C: Be healthy, be healthy! I’m going to sleep! LYN: It’s 11:30p and you’re saying that’s healthy?? Are you overseas and there’s a time difference? Why don’t you have a meal while you’re at it. They say if you’re full before you go to sleep, that’s healthy. So that there’s something in your stomach from which you can absorb nutrients while you sleep. Why don’t you try that? LYN: I heard something yesterday: A midnight snack is just breakfast a few hours ahead of time. So eat when you want. Eating a midnight snack is not a sin, you’re just eating your breakfast early. Early by six hours… we should be early for things. The early bird gets the worm, right? Whether in life or in work, we should work hard.

C: Ning-ge, I eat 5 meals a day. How would that be calculated? LYN: I don’t have the right to comment. I can only praise you for having a good home environment. It looks like you’re doing well for yourself, if you can have five meals a day. You must own a restaurant, right?? But it’s not like every time there’s a customer and you bring them their dishes, you join them for the meal, though??? // Your family DOES own a restaurant? Oh, then that’s another discussion. All I can say is 1. Eat if you want to and 2. I guess your family business is doing well. LYN: Honestly though, I think four or five meals is still okay. Because some people who work out have multiple meals a day, too. That’s what I’ve heard, at least. They’re exhausting a lot of energy, so they need to eat more to maintain it. I’m not sure how it all works.

C: How many meals a day do you eat? LYN: Me? Maybe two or three? On average, two. I get up and eat a meal then eat another at night. Most of the time, it’s two. If I need to head out particularly early I’ll have a little breakfast, then a lunch, then a dinner.

C: Ning-ge, I eat 8 meals a day. LYN: As long as you’re happy. I can’t stop you and I shouldn’t- LYN: There are two words that come to mind but I am not shameless enough to say them out loud. [Animal feed?] What are you doing- what has happened to starve you so much that you need 8 meals a day?? That’s a bit much, isn’t it? - /some discussion about this/ - [t/n: I’m hearing “pixiu” and “taotie”, which are both mystical creatures, but I think the gist of it is: “Glutton”.] LYN: You’re taotie, you’re a qiling. That is- these mystical creatures that can eat a lot. You’re a… camel. XD LYN: I’m joking, I’m joking. Okay. That’s about enough.

LYN: Now there are people starting to curse at me. Looks like it’s getting a little chaotic in here. That’s okay. It doesn’t matter. LYN: If you’re sleepy, then get to sleep. Rest up. I will come to stream when I have the time.

LYN: I hope everyone had a relaxing, happy, and wonderful night. It was great to have you and I hope you had fun. Thank you for accompanying me, and I hope that you’re here for the next 817. Goodnight, everyone.

#Liu Yuning #lyn livestream #(2:49:54)#[one month later....]

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blinkaftermidnight · 7 months ago

Note

is it possible to ask for a snippet of that 50k word unpublished fic? Is the plot hole that severe?

Officially that fic is "you left me in the dark." The title is out there now so I guess I'll start using it. The plot hole was literally there were supposed to be nine boys on the island and I only bothered to account for eight throughout the entire story. I hit the end and realized I'M MISSING A BOY. And it mattered because I called those fuckers the Sunken Nine the entire time and went back and saw I only had eight. Also I didn't bother to account for their confederates.

Literally I invented a bunch of boys before the actual boys cast was announced, and maybe that doesn't matter to you guys, but I care about the plot hole that I noticed. It's a stupid one but I'd like to fix it.

Also I have problems with what happens with the characterization of Leah and Fatin, so that needs to be looked at, too. If anything, THAT is the bigger problem I have with this fic as a whole.

I actually started rewriting it but didn't finish that, so I'll give you a snippet out of the original unedited thing.

Here's the first unedited 1.5k under the cut. Sorry if that's a repeat but I included more than I did in one of the posts I linked below.

It took time but I found some related posts about this fic:

It’s their fifth televised interview – no, sixth – since the story first broke. This Morning America, this time. They have to travel to San Diego from Los Angeles in order to make the appearance. Leah still hasn’t figured out a way to stop being nervous once she’s in front of a camera, and she still reaches for Fatin’s hand when they’re warned that they’re gonna be on in sixty seconds. The talk show host smiles too broadly at them, has too much makeup on. She looks fake even up close. Leah squeezes Fatin’s hand tighter to stop herself from scoffing or rolling her eyes or saying something she’s going to regret immediately. Fatin doesn’t squeeze back; she just taps her thumb against Leah’s hand, twice.

The cameraman counts them down while, on the couch on the other side of Fatin, Toni and Martha exchange a few words about how they always have to answer the same fucking questions over and over. On the other side of Leah, Shelby’s leg bounces incessantly, and there isn’t enough room for them to sit without touching, but the way Shelby’s shoulder presses into Leah’s arm isn’t uncomfortable. What’s uncomfortable is the way Leah and Fatin have to act as a buffer between Shelby and Toni. Dot’s next to Shelby, and she’s just as fidgety, but that’s more likely due to her nicotine withdrawal now that she’s picked smoking back up again. She’s not – unfortunately, in Leah’s opinion – wearing cargo pants. She is wearing pants rather than a dress – just like Toni – but Dot’s pants have a normal number of pockets, which is just fucking tragic.

Rachel sits next to Dot, her expression as unreadable as ever, her arms crossed in a way that carefully conceals the stump at the end of her right arm. They’ll be asked about it. At least, they were asked in their last five televised interviews, and the reporters always ask them, and no one knows how to mind their fucking business. Then on the other end of the couch, next to Martha, sits Nora. She speaks maybe ten words total in any given interview. Even when directly addressed. She’s part of the Unsinkable Eight, no denying it. But she isn’t like the rest of them. She knew, and her knowledge of their situation sets her apart.

Leah glances at her hand, still clasped in Fatin’s as the cameraman says five, four, three, two. Fatin’s nails are perfectly manicured, flawlessly painted – what the fuck would Fatin call that color? Probably, like, seafoam green. Her nails match her dress, which is always guaranteed to be too short, so Fatin sits with her legs crossed, with the toe of her shoes with unnecessarily high heels pressing into Leah’s calf. Leah squeezes Fatin’s hand one last time right before the cameraman says one and gives the signal that they’re live, then Leah’s hand easily slips free, and she folds them together in her own lap.

Toni and Martha grin as the host starts speaking. Dot smirks. Shelby’s leg finally stops bouncing, and she sits with her back too straight. She sits too stiffly. She does not look anywhere that could be even vaguely classified as at Toni. Shelby’s shoulder only touches Leah’s arm because there isn’t enough space for it not to. Shelby fidgets as Rachel fields the first question – about her hand, about how it happened and how the group reacted, about how she’s adjusting to it, about what she’s hoping will happen to Gretchen Klein. Rachel manages to deflect most of the question, presenting Fatin with the perfect opportunity to jump in.

Fatin does most of the talking in any given interview. None of them agreed on that. Not explicitly. They still haven’t really made a plan or anything, even though they’ve had plenty of time. Maybe it’s just easier not to talk about it, but no one tries to prevent Fatin from enjoying the spotlight that the media is more than happy to shine on her – on them, really, but Fatin steps up and takes one for the team. Happily. She tastefully redirects the conversation away from Rachel’s hand – or her lack of a hand, Leah supposes – and while she’s not quite talking about herself, she’s still talking about herself. And Fatin’s interruption prompts the host of This Morning America to ask her the next question, and Fatin gladly answers it, smiles widely at the camera, even winks at it at one point.

Leah’s jaw clenches as Fatin laughs with the host over something Leah didn’t hear. Fatin’s always too relaxed about this sort of shit. But Fatin is used to attention, likes having all eyes on her, and Leah could easily see Fatin making a living by, oh, hosting a stupid TV show such as this one every single morning. Wouldn’t bother Fatin at all.

Leah’s careful to keep her eyes away from the camera, just in case it’s on her at any moment, doesn’t want to be caught staring into it. She can’t help but wonder if he watches this show, if he turned on his TV this morning to find the Unsinkable Eight sitting on This Morning America’s couch to discuss their horrific – but apparently wildly entertaining – experience. She wonders if he’s going to have to live the way she does, being forced to hear about her constantly, at least until Gretchen’s trial starts and finishes. You know, the way she has to hear about his upcoming novel. He still has her number blocked, not that she’s tried to find out. He’s probably doing just fine, even if he has to turn on his TV and see Leah’s face on it, even if just for the few moments it takes him to change the channel. It probably doesn’t bother him at all.

Martha’s answering a question now, and maybe that’s why Fatin’s eyes linger on Leah’s face as she chews on the inside of her cheek, wrings her hands together in her lap. Fatin’s fingertips press into Leah’s hip, just briefly, just long enough to get Leah to look at her, and Fatin’s expression is hard to read, but Leah thinks the look she receives means ease up a bit, will you? Leah brushes Fatin’s hand away from her, and Leah resists the urge to do something like run her fingers through her hair – since that would mess it up, and that lady spent so much time getting it perfect – or pull at her eyebrow.

Nora doesn’t speak at all during this interview. She sits with her head bowed, sits in a way that takes up as little space as possible, sits with at least three inches of space between her and Martha even though the rest of them are crammed up against each other due to a lack of space. The host tries to address Nora directly, but Dot swoops in and steals that question, gets a good laugh out of the studio audience with her answer, and the host seems to forget that Nora hasn’t said a word. And Leah would almost rather speak herself than let Nora speak for them all.

It’s their sixth televised interview since the story of the fabricated plane crash and the experiments run by Gretchen Klein and funded by her many rich donors first broke. It’s their last interview before someone – and no one knows who, apparently – leaks all of Gretchen’s files. All of them. Every. Last. One. Logs of their time on the island – not just their time, but the boys’ time, too. Literally thousands of pages of transcripts of what they said, notes on what they did for three fucking months out there – everything. And that’s not even counting the personal files Gretchen had on each of them – and each of the boys – and on all of their closest friends and family. Plus Gretchen’s personal notes and inquiries and guesses about all the girls and boys. Everything Gretchen had comes out.

And all of it leaks while Leah’s asleep in a hotel room in San Diego, while Fatin flips between Netflix and Hulu and cable channels in search of something to watch, because Fatin doesn’t sleep at night, and that’s the reason they know about the leak to begin with. Fatin’s phone is in her hand, and she’s scrolling through Twitter when she sees the first article – at least, that’s how she says she found it once she screams loud enough to jolt Leah out of her first nightmare of the night, drags her out of one nightmare into an inescapable one.

“Files?” Leah questions, rubbing at her eyes. “What the fuck does it mean by files?”

“All of it, Leah!” Fatin yells, knocking her hand into Leah’s shoulder. Leah grunts, rips Fatin’s phone out of her hand and forces her eyes to focus on the words even though she has to squint against the brightness of the screen. “Everything she had on us is out there! Someone just dumped it all onto the internet – and who even knows what might be in there?”

#Anonymous #my fic #the wilds #leatin

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moonysfavoritetoast · 2 months ago

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Im sorry if this comes out as offensive, but im like, really interested in your rants about school. What else happens? Anything happen to your friends either?

content warning ⚠️: mentions of school shootings, mention of shooting threats, mentions of rape and rape jokes, pedophile mentioned, calories mentioned, mentioned sh and ed’s, one mention of puking, slurs, murder threats, mention of groping. lmk if i missed anything.

lots of kids saying slurs (if it’s not obvious from my posts)

we’ve had. i wanna say three shooting threats this year in my district. two for the middle school and one for the high school. and i believe there was one at one of the elementary schools not sure tho.

uit’s the fifth week of school.

so many rape jokes. people hope other people get raped. people will say they want to rape people.

notably, a classmate said he wanted to rape my wife.

we have kids that are getting genuinely groped. nobody’s doing anything about it.

we have a pedophile gym teacher. who told us before thanksgiving break, when i was in SIXTH GRADE, that we should exercise after eating and make sure we didn’t eat too much.

i was eating 900 calories a day for six months because of him. he still works there.

there’s a kid who keeps saying he wants to stab people.

as far as i know, our administration said the shooting threats were all fake. the one that happened on a kid’s first day of school might’ve been rumors about him having the gun on him, but he was planning on bringing it. he got expelled after his first day. parents received emails saying it was all fake.

the principal said “well..if i hear anything else about rape im calling the police”. all four of us wrote statements on this kid joking about rape.

he got off without punishment because he’s not neurotypical.

the office will pick and choose if they’ll let you call a parent to go home. they told both my wife and khris that they weren’t allowed to call their parents because they didn’t want parents complaining about yesterday’s situation. which is fucking illegal.

principal also tried to text ace’s mom from ace’s phone(?) which is also illegal.

they hide the superintendent’s email because they don’t want parents contacting them if office staff don’t do anything.

when i was in fifth grade and sister was in third, her best friend gave her a note that was a murder threat.

it was from this girl’s brother who was in middle school. both of these girls tried to say it was for emily.

my sister and i were accused of wanting to or liking school shootings and gun violence.

my mom shut them down by saying we know someone who was shot at oxford.

i was being touched and stared at by emily’s brother who i was friends with (fifth grade, not middle school brother).

his fucking aunt was our principal. that’s why he never got in trouble.

the only teacher i’ve ever had say ANYTHING about the f slur was my hb/science/ss teacher in sixth grade.

nobody at my school cares what’s being said. nobody cares who gets threatened.

maybe it’s selfish of me, but i’m really fucking scared of going to school. i’m alternative. i’m queer. i feel like i’d be targeted. i feel like my friends would be targeted.

when teachers bring up sh and ed’s (we had an assembly about it last year), the only reason they say these habits develop are because of being bullied. sure. that’s part of it. but holy fucking shit.

they got rid of a counselor everyone loved bc she did her job TOO well.

there are kids at my school who fake sh. there are kids that fake ed’s.

we had an lgbt youth organization coming in once a week during lunch last year. nearly everyone going to the lunch group were kids that say fags should kill themselves.

we aren’t safe at school. i am not safe at school. my wife, ace, mee? im on the verge of fucking vomiting every day. because what if it happens when im not in a class with them. i don’t even have a class with my wife.

what if it happens and i can’t put myself in front of them?

the middle school office staff do not respond to emails. they aren’t doing anything about parents’ concerns. and parents can’t do anything. because nobody has access to the superintendent’s email.

more money goes into sports than keeping us safe.

#so sorry if this isn’t what you wanted when you sent this ask #but. this is a good compilation of everything that my district has done wrong i think #evan’s rambles #evan gets an ask *gasp*#wife = wife pt two

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blorbologist · 2 years ago

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Cat’s Cradle - Chapter 3

Ch 1 ... Ch 2

Babysitting has never been Percy’s strong suit.

Before - before, of course he was occasionally left to mind the younger siblings. It usually amounted to him ordering pizza and the twins either watching a movie together or watching him play video games. They never had the patience for his tinkering, and Ludwig would sleep through the whole evening.

After the second or third fight the parents returned to, or the fifth or sixth kitchen science lab incident, well. Percy was usually left to his tinkering, and Whitney and Oliver were just about old enough to mind themselves and the littler ones.

So Percy is at a loss as to what to do with these charges.

The one Vex offloaded on him has settled down, the tempo of its kneading much slowed. Four other voices mewl out at intervals, still displeased. They’ll be safe soon, he knows - Vex won’t let them down. He won’t. They’ll give them a good meal, bring them to the shelter in the morning, and hopefully get a trap for Curio and reunite her with her young.

Ah. The shelter will want to know everything possible about the litter, he’s sure.

Percy carefully eases the slate kitten back into the nest - its head jostles, trying to follow his retreating fingers. “I’ll be right back,” he promises, and sets up his workstation.

Scale, steel bowl, notepad, and laptop open on three webpages about neonates later, Percy keeps his word and scoops up that kitten again.

“Biggest - solid blue?” he murmurs as he writes into the table. With the bowl on the scale, its screen blinking 0.0g, he slides the kitten in -

it wails, writhing in protest, doing its best to lift itself out. Percy curses and scoops it up, grabs a hand towel to dump in. “Oh dear - I’m sorry, that was cold.”

This time when he weighs the kitten, it does not recoil. He, Percy decides, with a glance under the tail, at the guide, back again. Gods this is confusing.

His little notepad slowly fills up.

Solid blue - 137.3 grams - male?

Brown w black stripes - 124.6 grams - female?

Blue tabby - 125.8 grams - ???

Blue tabby - 123.1 grams - ???

Percy squints at the page and back at the litter. Rummaging through Victor’s blueprint desk - no, how about - ah, there! He won’t miss a little ribbon.

It’s easy to amend his notes:

Blue tabby - 125.8 grams - ??? - green collar

Blue tabby - 123.1 grams - ??? - white collar

And, last but not least:

White ? - 117.0 grams - female

This one he examines a touch longer. She’s the smallest - he says she, the only one he’s fairly confident is female. And maybe it’s just the fact she is the runt but she wobbles as she tries to join the cuddle pile. Her movements are uncoordinated - with the caveat that the all are, being only hours old. There’s just something worming at the back of his head he does not like.

Her ears are a touch darker, yet he is fairly certain these newborns have not had any chance to get dirty yet.

Percy carefully wets his finger and rubs her ears. No grime coming off, though the kitten tries to lean into the touch with a whimper.

Curious.

Checking his watch, there’s still at least half an hour until Vex will return with formula.

Recalling how the grey male had calmed down in his hold, Percy hauls a chair nearer to the forge, carefully bringing the basket of kittens with him. He then, one by one, piles them in his lap. They gravitate to eachother, murmuring, but to his hands, too.

Satisfied, Percy thumbs their baby-down fur. One by one, they fall asleep, and it’s a struggle not to join them.

Watching Vex prepare the bottle feeding formula is frustrating. Mostly because Percy wants to make himself useful - Vex took one look at the litter in his lap and gleefully told him to sit tight. All he can do is guess as best he can what she’s looking for and call its location before she turns the space upside down looking for it.

It was also frustrating because the kittens are awake again and now screaming with hunger, looking desperately for their mother. Percy tears his gaze from Vex to herd one of the blue tabbies back in place for the fifth time before giving up.

“I don’t know why you’re so insistent about this,” he complains, one hand keeping the kittens from falling as the other deposits them one at a time in the basket. “I know where everything is. It would be more efficient.”

Satisfied with the temperature of the water, Vex glances at him as she spoons it into the powder already in the mug. “Aww - but I hadn’t had a chance to take a picture yet!”

“Excuse me?”

Vex lets his affront sit as she whisks the formula together with a scavenged fork. “For Keyleth and Vax.” She knocks him back with a wicked wink when he has the wherewithal to look at her and not his wiggling charges.

The happy couple left yesterday on a roadtrip to Zephrah, with plans to stay a week with Keyleth’s father before embarking on the two day drive back. Percy’s not overly bothered by Keyleth’s absence - he does not think himself overly reliant on physical contact or proximity, and their conversations more than make up for their usually incompatible schedules regardless. She sends photos of the ride when she has reception, he tosses any nature factoids he’s stumbled on or some heads up about sightseeing in her area.

Vex, though, is already a little twitchy without Vax in the apartment they share. From her activity feed she’s spent her time off work with just about everyone in turn, or talking to Trinket with more babytalk than usual.

Not that he’s paying attention.

“You were so cute holding them,” Vex continues. She pauses to let drops of the formula against her wrist. “Perfect! Oh - keep the last one, I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Percy stills his hand on the brown tabby - he had thought it black until he spied the stripes of brown and a paler face in better light - and turns his hold into an awkward pet. The tiny head butts up into his thumb as the kitten lets out another cry.

“Cute?” He stifles his snort in a grin for the kitten’s sake. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been cute. Maybe… handsome.” Vex hums, smoothly pouring the formula and preparing the rubbery cap - he knows exactly what it’s called and he refuses to think it, no. “Elegant. Cool.”

“Broody,” Vex teases.

“That’s Vax.”

“Oh, he’s certainly got the aesthetic. But I was thinking chicken broody. Fussing over cute little babies. Which is incredibly cute.”

Percy makes a face he is fairly certain the kitten mirrors, though the sources of their displeasure are completely different. Further distinguishing them: he is fairly certain cats cannot blush.

Vex has mercy on him, pulling over a chair to sit beside him. Sets up a towel in her lap. “Okay, so it’s been a while, but I think I remember this well enough.”

“I’m still not sure how you acquired such a skillset.” He settles the kitten in her lap - picks it back up to make sure its legs are splayed a little more comfortably. “Trinket was on solid foods when you acquired him, if I am remembering right?”

She shrugs. “Our mother fostered all sorts of baby animals. Never long - we did not have the funds or room for, say, a litter of puppies. But it was something we did together, as a family.”

Percy thinks he was going to say something - a comment, or maybe a gentle prod about this ever-elusive Elaina - but Vex’s eyes crease just so at the corners and he does not mind to lose it.

“Hi baby,” she coos. “Hungry?”

Baby is, indeed, hungry - it takes a couple tries, with Percy holding his breath (what if they don’t eat? What if they choke? What if -) for each attempt until the pale little paws reach for the air and he hears, beyond his heart, the faint suckling of a tiny, tiny creature.

Her hand is steady, holding up the bottle. “What a brave little girl!”

This voice is made for nests and secrets in the woods and the rare moments Trinket feared. Not her grand repertoire for cajoling and prompting and all of Vex that drew attention, but the Vex that insisted here, now, there was a greater wonder than she.

(He might beg to disagree, if he remembered to speak.)

(Truly, Curio could not have had worse timing.)

“Percy!” She brings him back to himself - and the kitten, now purring up a storm. The little tail can’t quite stick up but gives its best effort. And the little ears - still folded almost flat against the head - are twitching with each suckle.

He had not expected the ear wiggles. Vex’s grin stutters with awe. Oh, gods, he’s melting.

“Cute,” Percy echoes, just clipped enough to sound controlled. Not sappy. Not.

“Of course.” She peers at him from the corner of her eye. “Want to give it a try? There’s a second bottle.”

“One second.”

Percy fishes for his phone, snaps a picture and sends it to Keyleth. Vex is laughing as soon as she clues into the ploy.

“Alright - I’m ready.”

#cat's cradle au #critical role #critical role fic #critical role fanfiction #perc'ahlia #percahlia #percy de rolo #cr percy #percival de rolo #vex'ahlia #cr vex #my writing

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aeoki · 2 years ago

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Grand Slam - The Old-Fashioned Sports Festival: Chapter 2

Location: Unknown Characters: Tomoya, Hitsugi & NEGI

TL Note:

The name of the sixth of the Seven Mysteries of Yumenosaki, 悪夢ノ咲 / akumu no saki, is a combination of the words “悪夢 / akumu / lit. nightmare” and “夢ノ咲 / Yumenosaki / lit. blooming of dreams”. I’ve chosen to translate this as “Nightmenosaki”; a portmanteau of “nightmare” and “Yumenosaki”.

< The video that was open on Hitsugi Kurone’s phone. Time and place: everything unknown. >

Hitsugi: “Hitsugi and~♪”

NEGI: “His big sister’s~...♪”

Hitsugi: “Pre-recording for “Broadcasting Accidents”...☆”

NEGI: *Clap clap clap clap*

“...Do you really need to include that? And do you even need me?”

Hitsugi: “Of course, I do! What’re you saying? Are you an idiot, Onee-chan!?”

NEGI: “I’ve been called an idiot by an idiot. Poor me.”

Hitsugi: “Onee-chan, you’re always someone I need! It’s lonely being by yourself, after all!”

NEGI: “I think it’s just wasting time. All that trouble to switch between us and editing the video so that it looks like we’re having a proper conversation… It’s just a waste of time.”

Hitsugi: “But if we’re erased, someone else will come across this video, right?”

“In that case, if we make it an amusing video, it might pique their interest and maybe they’ll watch right through to the end.”

“And when they finish the video, they might realise something, follow in our footsteps and look into things.”

“It’s a rare opportunity! So I want to make it something that people will regret not watching!”

NEGI: “You’ve completely turned into a “producer”, huh. Too much influence from Anzu.”

“Don’t get too obsessed. You’re not intending on creating more of me, are you?”

“...Well, nevermind, let’s start. Where should we lift off from?”

Hitsugi: “We’ll cut the beginning and re-enact the important parts!”

NEGI: “Gotcha~ Elohim Essaim, Elohim Essaim–”

Hitsugi: “Ia! Ia! Cthulhu! Fhtagn!”

“............”

Tomoya: W-What? He stopped talking.

The video didn’t freeze, right? The video’s progress bar is still moving slightly…

Hm? Something seems off about Kurone…?

Mayoi (Hitsugi): “Over here, everyone…♪”

Makoto (Hitsugi): “H-Hey, is this okay? What’s this place? Uuu~ It’s cramped, dark and scary!”

Yuuta (Hitsugi): “Don’t be so loud, Yuuki-senpai. The noises bounce off the walls and it makes the inside of my ears throb.”

Subaru (Hitsugi): “If your head’s pounding, maybe it’s because there’s not much oxygen down here! Ahaha ☆”

Makoto (Hitsugi): “What was funny about that sentence, Akehoshi-kun!?”

Sora: “HaHa~♪ HiHi~♪ HuHu~♪ HeHe~♪ HoHo~♪”

Tomoya: (W-What on earth is this…? Kurone is re-enacting everyone’s actions and words?)

(I wonder if he’s re-enacting the video that was confiscated from “Broadcasting Accidents”.)

(It seems like it. Akehoshi-senpai, Yuuki-senpai, Harukawa, Yuuta – And that’s Ayase-senpai, right?)

(Why is Ayase-senpai there? Ahh, I remember hearing that Shiratori had him go in his place since he also got sick.)

(I remember thinking I should have asked someone to go in my stead too.)

(I-In any case, why is Kurone filming this…?)

Mayoi (Hitsugi): “The Seven Mysteries of Yumenosaki.”

“First: The Odd Cenotaph. Second: The Blood-Vomiting Beast. Third: The Earth’s Requiem. Fourth: The White God. Fifth: The Dead Chatter-box. Sixth: Nightmenosaki[*] .”

“That’s all. There are only six of the Seven Mysteries that have been identified.”

“It’s said the seventh will appear when the rest of the Seven Mysteries are all triggered, but the details are unknown.”

Yuuta (Hitsugi): “You hear that a lot with other Seven Mysteries, huh~ The last one is always shrouded in mystery. Anyway, you sure know a lot, Ayase-senpai.”

Mayoi (Hitsugi): “Uh, umm, they’re well-known stories, after all?”

Yuuta (Hitsugi): “No, I don’t think they’re that well-known. No one knew about it when we were investigating it last year, so we ended up at a standstill.”

“We got a lot of ridiculous rumours instead, though.”

Mayoi (Hitsugi): “P-Perhaps someone hid them intentionally. They hid the real Seven Mysteries and spread rumours that acted as a decoy instead…”

← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ Next Chapter →

#grand slam

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fryingpan1234567 · 2 years ago

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I got a Hogwarts thing for ya

So Gryffindors, right.

They’ve got poor impulse control, they’re headstrong and good leaders, and they have the mental ability to overcome most/ all challenges if faced by fear (aka courage lol).

The Sorting Hat puts you in your forever-category on your first night at Hogwarts. You then spend all day every single day with those people at different stages of evolving into Level 8 Houses, you as well. You become accustomed to this.

Second Year Gryffs are starting to get the hang of things- they know their way around the castle well enough, and they’ve learned to be loud for attention. But if someone asked them to down an entire box of every flavor-beans, they’ll still hesitate to the challenge.

Fifth Years are pretty much sick of school. They’re zoned into reality in class less than ten percent of the time. They’re willing to either cram for the OWLs less than twelve hours before them or fail, they don’t care by this point. If someone dared them to jump off the tower they’d do it. The only adult they’ll still listen to with zero question is McGonagall.

Seventh Years… oh man. Skipping classes. Literally zero filter or common sense, if they had any before. Underage drinking and/or magic, maybe even around the Muggle friends they trust. Nearly every single one of them has broken their wand at least once and had to get it fixed or replaced. Not a single bone in their body hasn’t been broken, bent, or dislocated at least once as well.

Now our Hufflepuffs. Puff people are kind and considerate, patient as well, and they’re good peacekeepers as well as deescalation MASTERS.

First Years are almost too soft- sometimes the older ones will giggle when one of them tries to carry books for three of their friends as well as their own from class to class, because they haven’t quite gotten the hang on what it actually means to be kind and not bend over backwards for everyone.

Third Years are usually at the stage when Puffs master the ability to chill other people out. Sometimes they even have luck getting Gryffs to sit down and realize it’s not a good plan to steal from Snape’s secret potions closet, although that’s still pretty rare (you can’t really talk a Gryff out of a dare, but everyone’s tried at least once). They can be right alongside teachers pulling fighting students apart, and they tend to be the right-brained class teachers’ favorites (botany, DATDA).

Seventh Years are gods at mediation and have really got a grasp on kindness and sympathy. They’re the only successful ones to get Gryffs to think things through, get Ravenclaws to take care of themselves, and Slytherins to not carry out murders in the middle of potions class. If you need to talk to someone, you go to an older Hufflepuff.

Ravenclaws are wise, have good judgement, and think logically. Sometimes they lack in the emotional intelligence and compassion department, but they make up for it in quick thinking and good grades.

Second Year Ravenclaws are acing all their classes and have been since day 1. They don’t love every class, like botany and magical creatures, but they study during meals and before sleep. All their focus is on having good grades because that’s what they think it means to be smart, and while the older kids pat them on the back, they try to explain that good grades and intelligence aren’t the same thing.

They don’t fully get that until around fifth year. They’ve improved their critical thinking and puzzling skills, they’ve accidentally hurt people’s feelings, and their sleep schedule is somewhat decent. They’re all addicted to coffee, but they know what amount is healthy. They finally understand that they weren’t picked for the house because of their grades, but because they can challenge their minds. They let up on themselves (at least a little) by sixth year.

Seventh Years don’t sleep. Their grades are decent enough but not perfect. They’ll deadass tell the riddle painting to fuck off and it’ll open. They make ungodly concoctions of Red Bull, coffee, extra shots of espresso, and who knows what the fuck else to last 38 hours on like 40 minutes of sleep. GOD tier Minecraft and Animal Crossing builds (that’s how older Ravenclaws are categorized- Minecraft or AC lol). They know spells that have been long forgotten, but most of them are relatively harmless- showers of sparks that don’t really do anything, conjuring pigeons that only live for three hours, things like that. They get together with Slytherins to make up long words that sound like spells, but really are just gibberish and enjoy the way Gryffs squirm uncomfortably.

Slytherins are cunning, ambitious, cutthroat, and really good liars. They are loyal to an absolute fault- they’d kill and die for people they care about. No one can match their sarcasm or insults, and Gryffindors are the only ones who come even close to their humor and meme references.

First Years are too over-the-top with their bigotry and asshole-ness, and the older ones do their best to beat that out of them. Flick in the side of the head for racism, extra ASL homework for homophobia, running fucking laps for sexism and slurs. By second year, they learn not to fuck with other people in a genuinely mean way… at least most of the time.

Third Year Slytherins are fluent in sign language to speak with the mermaids of the lake and fully use that to their advantage- signing at each other in class to cheat on tests, making fun of dumb assignments, things like that. They’ve been fluent in sarcasm since First, but they’ve mastered perfect insults and clapbacks like omg-

Seventh Years are so scary no one but Seventh Year Gryffs are willing to fuck with them. They could kill with a glare, they manage to make school uniform look fire in a way no one else seems to be able to get right, and one sideways look in a friend’s direction and you’ll be hexed for weeks. They protect every little, not just from their own house, from jock Gryffs, emotionless Ravenclaws, lecturing Puff People. But they won’t babysit. Don’t ask us for that.

#Hogwarts #gryffindor #slytherin #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #headcanon

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 20 days ago

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Through The Teeth

Combining days 23-24 of anemia's goretober challenge; vivisection & teeth.

Summary: Having broken out of every other prison, Icy is sentenced to be a test subject in an experiment that tests the possibility of physically altering a witch or fairy's magic type.

Warnings: Gore, teeth, human expirimentation, whump, dead dove

They force her mouth open and tell her that it is her own fault and that, if she is too difficult, then they will pin her upper lip to her face to keep her teeth bared. The teeth that they seem to hate when she shows in any other circumstance. “You brought this upon yourself.” They remind her again as they bring the needle closer. “You should have just gotten comfy and cozy in Light Rock.”

Maybe she should have.

Or maybe it suits her just fine to let them rip her to pieces.

Maybe that’s why she closes her mouth for once.

Or maybe defiance, even at a detriment to herself is in her nature.

It brings her at least some sort of delight to know that she can still get under people’s skin even as they are trying to get under hers. And under her skin they get. One needle slips into her arm, embedding itself within her frigid veins. The second needle is at the ready. Poised towards her mouth.

But first they tighten the restraints around her wrists. Second they fasten her head in place. Third they tell her that if she moves wrong that she will choke herself and they’ll move onto E105-116. She is Experiment 105-115. Fourth she laughs at them and asks them why they still haven’t gotten it right after 114 attempts. Fifth they tell her to shut the fuck up. Sixth she tells that she thought that they wanted her to keep her mouth open. Seventh they slap her. Eighth they slip a pin through her upper lip and jab it through her nostril, securing her upper lip to her nose; she had been planning on getting a few piercings anyways. She wonders if she should ask them if they can fix a nose ring in there for her.

Ninth, they wipe the blood away. But it wells up again pretty quickly. Tenth they tip her head back and the blood in her nose works its way through her sinuses and into her throat. She has a feeling that they won’t care if she inhales it and dies drowning in a few drops of her own blood. She likes the smell of copper.

Eleventh they pick up that needle. It is magical in make, and fashioned with the sole purpose of breaking through bone. Bone and, apparently, teeth. It is a long, thick thing, maybe an inch or two larger than the types she sees regularly. Twelfth they jam the needle into her first premolar. It finds its mark with a searing sensation that radiates up through her gum and into her jaw and all the way up the right side of her face where it creates a pounding pressure behind her eye. An incessant beating that will probably overtake the rest of her head. The doctors...scientists? She doesn’t know what to call them really---they have to twist the needle a little to get it to go all the way up. It breaks through the shell of her teeth and strikes a nerve. The pain slices all the way up the right side of her face and slashes into her skull.

If she screams the needle will shift and so to will the pain, at any rate she doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing that they’ve hurt her---she recognizes in them, the same sadistic glee that gets her dopamine pumping. What comes out instead is a strangled gurgle that almost certainly tickles that aforementioned delight.

They hold the needle in place and pump whatever it is that fills the syringe into her system. “Did you know that the source of a witch’s magic is located in the teeth?” He asks.

She had never paid much mind to magical anatomy studies, never cared where her magic was located physically insofar as she is able to access and use it.

“Fairy magic, of course, generally dwells within the heart.”

She knows this but only for having studied exactly how to vacuum it out of a fairy.

She realizes with a turning of her stomach that, that is what she is feeling; not a shoving, but a sucking. A tugging and pulling that she could mistake for extracting a tooth if she didn’t know any better. That which they have inserted into her tooth is less of a needle and more of a vacuum and it tugs and sucks until she feels the magic in her disintegrate.

Her breath catches in her throat.

Her magic.

Her essence.

Suddenly she feels a twinge of guilt over having tried to replace her powers with the dragon fire.

“You, my darling witch, for once in your life, are finally doing the magical universe a service. Your participation in this experiment will help with magical transfusions and replenishment for fairies and witches who have lost their magic or seek to change their magic type.” He withdraws the needle. She catches only a glimpse of the syringe as he puts it aside. Her magic, in its physical form, is deep blue in color with a swirling white shimmer that spirals around like snow in a midnight sky.

“We have a few procedures going on at once, different variations of this same experiment, different extraction methods and different methods of transferring the magic, for example. Your sisters are going through their own variation of this.” He explains as he picks his way through his tools. “The one who has been complaining about needing her glasses back---that one is getting a tooth pulled. The other one is getting her magic extracted through her gums. The version of this experiment that we are running on you goes like this; we extract your magic via the syringe. And then we reinsert it directly into your frozen, shriveled heart.” He arranges a few tools; scalpels, mirrors, more needles, and many more that she doesn’t have the knowledge to name.

“The goal with you is to see if we can help a fairy or witch switch their magic type from one to the other. A different ice witch that we are working with will be receiving someone else’s magic to see if we can successfully swap, say, an ice witch’s magic for an ice fairy’s magic. And we have a similar experiment running to see if we can swap an ice witch’s magic for a water fairy’s.” He pauses. “It is quite fascinating really. Unfortunately most of our procedures, 114 as you so helpfully pointed out, have resulted in death or rejection. The wretched creatures will never be able to use magic again. Drove most of them mad. Did you know that forcefully ripping someone’s magic away can have the same effect as stealing their soul? You didn’t care about that, did you? When you stole that girl’s flame. I assure you that I will afford you the same level of compassion.”

She breathes heard, heavily. Erratically.

“Since you have been nice and quiet for me I suppose that I will numb you before I open your chest.”

“How thoughtful of you.” She mutters.

The man chuckles and another needle enters her arm. She realizes that he never told her what the first one had been for. Perhaps a sedative of some sort. She wishes that they would put her under completely. Instead she is left to feel her body go numb and useless from the waist down.

He picks up the scalpel and draws a few clean lines upon her chest. When he has enough of them he peels back the flaps of skin and pins them to the surrounding skin. She feels only a few pinches. She holds her head back and stares at the ceiling.

That doesn’t save her from the horrid sensation of a needle puncturing her heart. She gasps, the product of shock and maybe the result of having her heart stabbed.

“You can still feel that, can’t you?” The man asks with apathetic interest. “Yes, where matters of the heart are concerned, you will feel everything. I suppose that it hurts more when you’ve forgotten that you had one at all.”

It is hard to articulate. If someone were to ask her to describe what it was like to be part of the experiment, she doesn’t think that she could do it well. She can say only that her heart feels bloated or waterlogged. As though it has been stuffed with something tarry in consistency. It comes with the sense that it shouldn’t be beating at all anymore. And yet it keeps on pounding.

She is hot and cold all at the same time.

The man stitches her back up and informs her that he could heal her magically and leave her free of scars but he doesn’t care to wait for a medical fairy to come in and work her healing magic.

“I recommend not attempting to use your magic for at least two months. It took some trial and error to figure out when it was safe to use magic without risking death; you can thank E105-1 through 27 for that discovery. 27 through 114 have all damaged their magic to varying degrees. 27, of course, is entirely unable to use magic. 114 is only about half as powerful as she used to be.”

“Four months then.” Icy can only manage a whisper. “I should wait for four months.”

The man shrugs. “We are trying to figure out at exactly what point magic is safe to use again after a successful procedure. I expect an attempt to use magic in two months and one week’s time.”

“Or you can let me wait four months and work backwards from there to find out which point it becomes unsafe to use magic.”

“Fancy yourself a scientist?” He asks.

“If I do well you can get me a job here. I’d be happy to make people suffer in the name of greater good or whatever.”

“At least you’re thinking of the greater good at all.” He packs his tools away. “Perhaps I will take you up on that offer.”

He wasn’t supposed to, she is just being a sarcastic asshole as per usual. But he takes her literally and maybe that it is for the best.

“In four months I will see you back here and we will observe your ability to perform basic fairy spells.”

“And then what?”

“Well that all depends, my darling witch. If it is a success then we will monitor your health and begin teaching you to use your new magic type. If you are another failure then we will observe your decline and improve our trials for the next delinquent on our operating table. Either which way, after your observational period you will have served your sentence and are free to go either to return to your life or to begin a new magicless existence.”

A magicless existence.

She swallows hard.

It would drive her mad indeed.

“In the meantime we will have you transferred back to a prison cell. I recommend that you request to go back to Light Rock and actually make an effort. That’s where most of our more successful subjects went for their recovery periods.” He glances over his shoulder. “It is where your sisters have chosen to go.”

“They’re alive?”

“We’ve gotten past the stage in the experiments where our test subjects die on the operating table.”

And so she is returned to Light Rock with no anti-magic tiara glowing around head and a sense of impending dread.

And the very faintest unpleasantly cool tickle in her heart.

She likes to think that is an itch of magic trying to crackle icily over her heart.

She likes to think that it is a sign that if she just waits it out that she can regain her magic in its fullest from. And perhaps one day, if they ever have a fully successful procedure, she can book herself an appointment to reclaim her witchhood.

#Winx #Winx Club #Goretober #Winx Icy #Fanfiction #One Shot

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dracomysthical · 1 year ago

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oh my god the way they described DashCon

but the MESSAGES

Image IDs below the readmore:

[Image IDs: 10 screenshots from the CNN article linked above, all text.

First screenshot text: “(CNN) - When the first generations of social media natives are old and gray, they will bounce their grandchildren on their knee and tell them about the old days when Facebook was just for college kids and Twitter wasn’t a place for world-altering political discourse. As their rheumy gazes search the distant past, they’ll recall another titan of that lawless age.

‘Then there was Tumblr,’ they’ll wheeze. ‘Man, that place was weird.’”

Second screenshot text: “DashCon would not reach such great heights. It was a legendary failure,” and cuts off there.

Third screenshot text: “And then, there was the issue of the ball pit.”

Fourth screenshot text: “One of O’Neil’s original ideas, when hope was high and life worth living, was to have a giant ball pit at the event. Everyone loves a ball pit, and it felt right for DashCon’s vibe. (‘Ball pits are also great enrichment for ferrets,’ she added.) The con’s organizers assured her she would get her wish.”

Fifth screenshot text: “‘I thought, ‘At least I have my ball pit.’ So I went to a Taco Bell, I got some chips and nacho cheese. I came back and I found the ball pit, and it did not feel real,’ O'Neil said.

‘You know how sometimes you feel like you’re in a dream? It was this, but it was horrifying. A nightmare. And I just kind of sat in it and ate my cheese.’”

Sixth screenshot text: “More than the larger issues of mismanagement, more than the disappointed few hundred Tumblr users who showed up to the con, and the thousands more who watched the event break down in real time online, the ball pit of dissociation became the enduring emblem of DashCon: something fun and full of promise, now deflated and alone on the floor of a convention room in Schaumberg, Illinois.”

Seventh screenshot text: “‘I always felt like Tumblr was a place where I could really be myself,’ O’Neil said. ‘There are people that are always posting weird things. But then it makes you feel like maybe you too can be a little weird.’”

Eighth screenshot text: “The better is, well, better. O’Neil is still friends with people she met at the event. She said people still send her cosplays of the infamous ball pit, almost 10 years later. It’s just another sign of how deep the event has etched itself in peoples’ memories; not in a place of derision, but in a place of absurd, almost disbelieving fondness.”

Ninth screenshot text: “‘It was a terrible convention,’ she said. ‘But it wasn’t the first terrible convention, and it won’t be the last. As we move forward in the future, people are always going to have big, creative ideas. They’re going to get excited, and they may not know their own capacity. And when that happens, others are going to say,”

Tenth screenshot text, dramatically big: “‘Don’t you remember DashCon?’”

End IDs.]

I can't believe CNN just ran a story about DashCon in the year 2023

#linkz #storiez

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passerine-writes · 2 years ago

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Silent Sparks - Volt 6

Warnings: More mentions of child neglect and muzzling :( Word count: 2532

Notes: Italics - Tsukare signing (this chapter it's Mic signing in the beginning) Bold italics - Family member/friend signing 'Italics with apostrophes' - Thoughts

Masterlist

Volt 5 | Volt 7

After six months, Tsukare deemed Yamada 'Pops' and Aizawa 'Dad'. They were both huge milestones for the parents. The second one was seeing him off for his first day of his fifth year of elementary school. If Yamada cried then he wouldn't admit it, he was proud. He was so proud and happy with his small family.

The next step they finally took at their sons pace, was therapy. Once a week after school, he's scheduled for psychiatry with Recovery Girl. Even though she isn't the guidance counselor, Tsukare voiced that Hound Dog's sheer size initially startled him. Plus, he bonded with the tiny, sweet, old nurse and nobody wanted to take that away.

Shortly after, he started training his quirk with his dad's, finally feeling a little more comfortable to try and do so. They watched as he grew and excelled, starting to thrive in his home.

Then they met Shinsou Hitoshi. A small, purple haired kid with matching eyes who looked exhausted. Yamada was the one to find a child during patrol this time, noting how the child resembled his husband to a large degree, and now realizing a common theme. His booming heart stuttered and fell quiet when he noticed peculiar bruising on his face, much like he got as a child.

"Hey little listener, you okay?" Shinsou ducked his head down and kept walking, quicker this time, so Mic decided to take a shot in the dark as he ran in front of him.

Do you know sign?

The boys eyes widened in shock, not expecting a pro hero of all people to be able to sign. He simply nodded, still processing this fact.

Are you okay? You're a little bruised up, can I take you home?

With a pregnant pause, Yamada knew what the answer was going to be.

You don't have anywhere to go, do you?

The boy shook his head and went to side step, but the hero was faster.

What's your name?

My name is Shinsou Hitoshi.

Where are you staying right now?

Doesn't matter.

Did you runaway?

No, and it doesn't matter.

Why do you say that?

Because nobody wants a kid with a villains quirk, so can I go now?

Can you show me where you're staying so I know you're safe?

Will you leave me be if I do?

Maybe.

Fine, let's go then.

Taking it as a victory, Mic happily followed Shinsou a few blocks down.

Happy?

Mic was not happy. It was still getting cold out, the morning frosts still sticking and the cold nights barely starting to fade. And here this boy was, sleeping in a box with about five blankets in an alleyways back corner.

What happened to your family?

They threw me out, okay? Nobody wants a kid with a villain quirk. They weren't even my real parents. They were my sixth set of foster parents.

This kid was starting to remind him a lot of his husband now.

I'm a foster parent, my husband and I are, we're getting ready to legally adopt our current foster son. Would you at least like to stay the night? It's supposed to get really cold. Plus we have cats.

Fine. But only because you have cats.

Yep, definitely a carbon copy of his husband. Yet Tsukare was bordering on a carbon copy of himself so he couldn't say much.

Okay. I'm going to run home, talk to my husband and our son and make sure they're comfortable. Then I'll be back but I don't think they'll have any issues. Just hang tight.

With a singular nod, Hizashi speed walked back to his home and called his husband in the process.

"'Zashi is everything okay? You never call me on patrol."

"Sho, do you remember what you asked me six and a half months ago when you called me randomly on a night patrol?" His husband already knew where this was going, that was the last time he ever called his husband on patrol.

"Of course I do."

"I'm asking you the same thing right now, would you be okay if I brought a kid home? He's a tiny you Shouta!" Aizawa glanced over his shoulder to look at his son doing his homework in the kitchen. "Shouta, I have the same feeling in my gut that we did with Onryo. He feels like he should be our kid, too." The dark haired man let out a breath through his nose, more concerned with how their son might handle this adjustment. He finally started letting himself talk more freely and has finally started raising his hand in class.

"We have to go over it with Onryo first."

"I know! That's why I'm swinging home now and potentially going back to get him! I'm about to walk through the door!" Maybe he was jogging more then he was walking.

"Hi Pops!" The blond smiled and ruffled his sons wild hair, until his look turned confused. "You're home early from patrol, are you okay?"

"I'm okay, little listener. We actually wanted to talk to you about something real quick." Onryo hesitantly nodded, trying to think of what he possibly could have done wrong to warrant a serious conversation but he couldn't think of anything. His room was clean like normal, he has good grades and is actively doing his homework. "You didn't do anything wrong, just wanted to run something by you. Alright?" The child looked more relaxed and followed his dad's over to the couch. "I met a kid on patrol today, and when I met him I got that same feeling in my gut that Sho and I have about you, like he should be apart of our family. I was hoping he could stay the night, if that's alright with you." He nodded and got a sad look in his eye but did his best to mask it. "What's going through your brain, kiddo?"

"Am I.. going back?" The two looked concerned at how wrongly he interpreted that.

"No, not at all. Onryo, your Pops and I love you, you're our son. We aren't replacing or getting rid of you. Not now and not ever." A weight had been taken off of the almost nine year olds shoulders, the small bit of reassurance doing wonders.

"Then, I'm okay with having a brother. It just might take some time to get used to." They were both immensely proud of their son, knowing how much he despised change yet he was open for this one.

"Okay, I love you both, I have to go grab the kid! I'll be back! Shouta make sure we have ice cream!" The last sentence struck a chord of concern in the two left home, watching as the loud blond ran off.

"Do you think.."

"I hope not. But we'll see when they get here." However, they both silently knew why Mic would request ice cream for the kid.

"Alright! I'm back! You ready to rock 'n' roll?" The purple haired boy looked at the pro hero in shock. He actually came back. Shinsou started packing his things, surprising Mic with his many hidden places in the alleyway. "Alright, let's head out. Ice cream's waiting for you, it helps with your tongue after they put it on you." Shinsou's head shot towards the blond, shocked that he knew what the bruises were from but had also experienced it.

It was a silent walk, which Shinsou was more then happy with. When they walked in, Shinsou awkwardly stood to the side instead of stepping forward further.

"Alright, this is Shinsou Hitoshi, he's staying the night with us. Shinsou, this is our son, Tsukare Onryo. And this is my husband, Aizawa Shouta. And we all know sign language here so you can talk however you feel comfortable." The sleep deprived kid stood in shock again, not expecting to see one of his all time favorite pro heroes sitting in the kitchen.

You're Eraserhead.

"You actually know who I am?" Shinsou nodded quickly, still taking in everything. He took note of a boy, a smidge shorter than himself, sitting next to his dad, his leg bouncing rapidly as his fingers fiddled with a fidget. "That's a first." A small, anxiously waved hand caught his attention.

I think Pops already told you, but we have ice cream. It actually helps a lot more then you'd think. Tsukare signed hesitantly.

His thin eyebrows furrowed, confused as to how a second person in the house and a kid at that, also understood. Slowly, he sat on the stool, setting his bags at his feet protectively.

"Okay, so we wanted to go over something with you Shinsou. We only really have one rule of the house and that's honesty. Just be honest with us, and if you don't want to talk about something then tell us that and we'll save it for a later time. Onryo only has one rule for his room." The purple haired boy turned to topaz haired kid curiously.

I have some special things on my nightstand, please don't touch them. They're really important to me and I don't even let Dad and Pops touch them.

Odd request for Shinsou to hear but he shrugged it off and nodded. Yet he couldn't help that confused feeling. All of his other houses had so many rules and chores and punishments.

Anything else I should know?

"We're thinking about fostering you as well, however it's also a decision for you to make. If you don't want to stay here, then we won't force a foster home for you, all we want is for you to be safe as well. In the chance we do foster you, then the rules go up by one. Just keep your room clean, we already told Onryo but as you two get older then more responsibilities come, like doing your own laundry or loading the dishwasher." Shinsou sent Aizawa a crazed look, perplexed that those were the only rules. "Do you have any questions for us?"

And so the standard questions and curiosities ensued, most of them the same or similar to Tsukare's on his first night, except the eight year old wasn't expecting to get questions too.

So why don't you talk?

I don't want to accidentally use my quirk on you. Still working on controlling it. Why don't you talk?

Same reason I guess. I got a villains quirk so I try not to.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is your quirk?" Shinsou took his last bite of ice cream, spinning the spoon in his mouth to bide time from his role models question.

Brainwashing. If someone answers me, I can control them.

"Shinsou, no quirk is naturally villainous. It depends on how a person uses it that makes it that way. Mine was and could still be interpreted that way with that logic, but I realized that in high school." Shinsou stared at him with wide eyes, not expecting that from his favorite hero. "It takes some time to digest and really understand, but I promise you that it's not a villainous quirk." All the purple haired boy could do was nod before turning back to the smaller kid.

So what's your quirk?

I call it sound wave, I can control how loud a person hears me if I look at them while I talk. It won't affect anyone I'm not looking at, so if I used it on you, it could burst your eardrums but to Dad and Pops, it would just sound like I'm talking normally.

Neat, so it's Mic's quirk but on a select scale.

Tsukare nodded, attacking his fidget cube more intently.

I have a question for all of you. You both made the ice cream comment, and said it helps with it. Did someone put those things on you two?

Mic looked at his son for permission, accepting the nod before speaking. He didn't want to say too much and make him uncomfortable.

"We both grew up in foster care, we actually grew up in the same center. They'd put the muzzles on us if we 'stepped out of line' with our quirks." Shinsou nodded slowly, reevaluating his outlook on life silently. Truly he was worried about the small kid next to him, his eyes bounced from every object and back, his hands and leg unrelenting and he looked nervous almost.

"Sunshine?" The blond hummed as he looked at his husband who nodded his head towards their son. His eyes widened as he realized he forgot to give their son his meds this morning since they were running late for school.

"Little listener?" He looked at his Pops with wide eyes, confused at the querying tone. "Did you visit Miss Hina today?" Tsukare became lost in thought, an answer enough for his dads. "Alright, better late then never. Get over here you little rascal." He ruffled his sons hair, pleased that he at least laughed before he got down.

Shinsou watched confused as Aizawa grabbed a glass of water and three pill bottles from the top cabinet. All different sizes and colors. His confusion growing more as he watched this kid down them all at once.

"If you want to ask him you can. There's no harm in asking questions." He looked at Mic with wide eyes before turning back towards Tsukare.

What were all those for?

Tsukare looked at his dad cautiously, not knowing if it was okay to tell people. He had never been asked that before, so it was new ground for him.

"You can tell who you want to, it's up to you." He nodded shakily, thinking things through in his head before signing.

Ones a magnesium supplement to help with anxiety, the other one is actually for anxiety and the other one is for ADHD.

How old are you?

I'm eight. How old are you?

Eight. I turn nine this summer.

I turn nine in October.

Did you learn how to sign because of your quirk?

Kind of. What about you?

Pretty much, yeah.

Do you like cats?

I love cats.

Who's your favorite hero?

Your dad.

Really?

Yeah. He's why I want to be an underground hero. He fights quirkless pretty much and doesn't get a lot of attention while fighting villains. Plus he has a mental quirk.

I want to be a hero because of Pops! We both have sound quirks and he was always my favorite. A lot of people like All Might but I don't care for him all too much.

All Might's weird. He's loud and in the spotlight too much for my taste.

Do you want to go meet the cats and see the house?

Sure.

The two got up quickly, the parents worries completely washed away for now. Aizawa couldn't stop the smirk on his face, he knew exactly what his husband meant now. The two of them just felt like they were made to be brothers and their children.

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ohscorbus · 2 years ago

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Do you have any headcanon as to how scorpius and albus would deal with there trauma from the delphini events?

I think Albus actually acknowledges it and responds in a positive and healthy way, which is new for him. He also doesn’t do it alone. That’s the headcanon and the hope!

For years he’s isolated himself and he's just been hit with the ugly reality of the consequences of that. While Scorpius is undoubtedly the brightest star in his life, I think when he knelt behind his father in that church as his family and friend fought fiercely alongside him, he realised there was a whole galaxy of people surrounding him. His parents, his siblings, his cousins, his whole extended family. Even his classmates and teachers, who maybe aren’t all so bad. Not if he gave them a proper chance.

So when he stood at Cedric’s grave with his dad, he listened. He processed before he reacted and when he did he was still honest, and it worked. I believe he’ll continue to do that. No matter how hard it is some days. Because he needs them as much as they need him. Which is something he’s having to re-learn after years of convincing himself that he could disappear without anyone caring. Learning the hard way how wrong that was wasn’t ideal, but he won’t make another mistake twice.

As much as I think a lot of these changes come from within Albus, and need to in order to be successful, I also like to think an adult in his life offers him the opportunity for professional help. McGonagall brings someone in for Scorpius almost immediately. While Draco and Scorpius are communicating better and that does help, she knows Draco has his own demons and would hate to bring those back to the surface with everything else he’s dealing with. She still cares for her old students as much as she does her current ones. So she invites a nervous Draco to her office to talk. Draco only wants what’s best for his son, but he’s reluctant. He doesn’t trust an outsider. He knows that even highly trained medical professionals sometimes still hesitant at their surname. McGonagall understands but she has someone already in mind that she trusts, so she simply asks him to trust her. And so he does. The sessions work wonders on Scorpius, which encourage Albus to finally cave and take a few sessions himself. I also hope that Draco sees the good it does and actually seeks them out himself. Between his youth, the war, fatherhood, the loss of his wife… there’s a lot to unpack. Yet if he can improve himself and make sure what just happened never happens again, then it’ll all be worth it.

So in short, Albus will listen more and they’ll both talk more, especially to people other than each other, and they’ll also definitely hug more. Since that’s a thing they apparently do now. After that time on the staircase, their next hug was in the corridor outside the mind healer's office. Albus was waiting for Scorpius to finish so they could walk to dinner together. He leaves, right on time, but Albus barely gets a word out before Scorpius launches himself at him. Albus starts to ask what it was for but then realises he’s counting. Scorpius explains afterwards that hugging someone for twenty seconds has been scientifically proven by muggles to slower stress, anxiety, and heart rates. The cuddle hormone or something. Albus isn’t sure it worked, his heart rate is anything but lower and he’s thinking of another hormone entirely. Yet the hugs keep happening and soon Scorpius stops counting and just enjoys them. Albus too. And yeah okay, he’ll accept now that he does always feel better when Scorpius decides to cuddle up with him but he’s not entirely convinced that’s because it stops him from having to do his homework while he holds him back. But give him a few more months and he’ll admit that’s just a bonus. Because the headcanon that I’m most adamant on is that these two don’t get together until at least sixth year. Fifth year is all exams and recovery which is a lot. And important. Sixth year brings its own stresses of course, but it also gives them the time to properly explore this new version of themselves before they re-discover each other.

#I've written about this before and definitely answered it with more angst but you caught me in a good mood #scorpius malfoy #albus potter #scorbus #albus severus potter #text post #mypost

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strawwritesfic · 3 years ago

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Peter Parker x Pregnant!Female!Stark!Reader: Where Gods Do Fear to Tread [Ch. 7]

Summary: The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry, the best laid plans of teenagers even more so.

Challenge: “9 Months” challenge by crackleviolet on Lunaescence Archive -- Bonus Two -- Teenage Pregnancy

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (sexual references; two underage people having consensual sex off the page; teenage pregnancy; family drama; mixed families; teenage cruelty; discussion of abortion; discussion of adoption; foul language; crude humor; postpartum depression; Stark!Reader; Lila & Reader friendship)

Pairings: Peter Parker x Female!Reader; Tony/Pepper; Happy/May; Steve/Bucky; Clint/Laura; past!Tony/Reader’s Mom

Tag List: @imaginesfire, @plutoneu

Master List

Chapter 7: Kicks

One of things no one ever said during the hundreds of “don’t have sex or you’ll die” lessons you had to endure from fifth grade onward was that death would be among the least horrible consequences of doing the deed. They told you about single parenthood, warned you about abortion clinics, and did their best to terrify you with horrible pictures of sexually transmitted diseases—but clearly none of that had worked. Maybe, just maybe, if they’d talked a little bit about the truth of pregnancy, you would have listened. Probably not, but maybe, because sixth months in held enough misery that you almost wished you had died instead.

Heartburn. Hot flashes. Leg cramps. Dizziness. All of these you endured in relative silence. Whining about them did you very little good anyway. Doing so usually earned you another lecture from your dad…or thorough reaming out from Pepper, who couldn’t really help being so ticked off when she was about three months ahead of you.

The back pain you found a lot harder to shut up about. You couldn’t spend all your time in a warm bath, not with school and homework and long meetings about what adoption meant and even longer lectures from Nick Fury of all people about the dangers of casually sleeping with Enhanced.

The uncomfortable hospital waiting room chairs didn’t really help matters. They had wooden arms on each side and a beige-ish back and cushion. You used the word “cushion” for want of a better term. No matter which one you tried to sit in, you couldn’t stay comfortable in it for more than a few minutes at time. By the time Pepper had been in labor for six hours, you’d tried nearly every chair in the room, much to the consternation of every other person crammed in there with you that warm May afternoon. Probably they wondered what an unsupervised, massively pregnant teenager was doing loitering in there instead of at a gynecologist’s office somewhere.

For the fifteenth time that day, you pulled your phone out of your backpack to check for messages to distract yourself with. None were there. Obviously. Your dad was in the room with Pepper; the rest of the Avengers were answering some important distress call over in Siberia; and it wasn’t like you had any friends that were going to check on you after you’d left school at around ten that morning.

“Sorry I’m late. Did I miss anything?”

You looked up in shock both at the voice and the feeling of the chair next to yours moving. Peter himself had plunked himself down there. Wide eyed, you looked around the room for May or Happy at least, but no one was there.

“Happy’s going to pick up Aunt May,” Peter explained. “They’ll be here soon.”

“Guess they figured there’s not much trouble we could get into at a hospital,” you said with a weak smile.

Sure enough, Peter’s sudden arrival had every eye on you again, nurse and visitor alike. You tried not to blush at the feeling of all those eyes on you. Their disapproval couldn’t make you unpregnant, no matter how convenient that might have been.

“Right. So? I wanted to get here sooner, but Aunt May said I had to finish school for the day.”

“It’s fine, Peter. Pepper’s still in labor. I think. Guess Dad might just have decided not to tell me. Probably wouldn’t my aura rubbing off on Morgan’s right out of the womb,” you said, a little bitterly. Your baby sister’s arrival would take a lot of pressure off of you, but you also desperately missed your dad’s affection. What if having a new daughter made him willing to send you away now?

Peter seemed to read your mind as he wrapped one arm around your shoulders. “Mr. Stark wouldn’t do that. He loves you.”

“Maybe he did for a little bit.” You gave yourself a firm shake before changing the subject. “So, you were at school. They finally let you back after you gave Flash that black eye?”

“It was just a quick suspension,” he said, like it didn’t matter at all.

But it did. Though no one had told you outright, you were pretty sure that your dad had pulled a lot of strings to keep Peter at that school after his fight. A large donation had likely been made to Midtown High.

Peter hadn’t even used his full strength on Flash. If he had, Flash would have been turned into little more than goo splattered across that Audi. Fighting at school was still fighting at school, though, and if he hadn’t been throwing punches to protect your honor, you shuddered to think where Peter would have ended up.

You gazed at him, trying to will those horrible, uncharacteristic tears away. He seemed to notice, as he kissed your temple before he took his arm off your back so he could hold your hand.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m okay. I’m not the one going into my seventh hour of labor.”

“Is that normal?”

“I think so.” Again, you shifted in your seat and found no relief in your newest position. “No one’s been all that keen on giving me details, though. Mostly a lot of talk about my poor decision making skills.”

He let out a small laugh. “Yeah. I got a little bit of that from Director Fury, too.”

“It’s not funny,” you said, swatting him lightly on the shoulder.

“No. I guess it’s not.”

His eyes fell where they’d been falling a lot lately: the place where your hands connected. You felt his fingers contract momentarily around yours. What he was thinking when he did this, you didn’t know. Finding out wasn’t high on your priority list either.

“Lila sent me a card, though,” you said. “That was nice of her. And when it’s Natasha’s turn to babysit, she mostly leaves me alone.”

“Oh yeah?” Peter said absently.

“Yeah. Happy’s been great, too. I know he acts like I’m an enormous burden, but I’m starting to think it’s only an act. He bought me a milkshake a few days ago…”

Without Peter’s eyes on you, you found it difficult to gauge whether or not he had heard a word you said. The rest of the waiting room had; no one else there was speaking—at least, not as fast or as loud as you were. He didn’t look up, however, not even when you trailed off into an uneasy silence yourself. It seemed to magnify all the other tiny sounds in the room: a nurse at a desk turned a paper; a phone somewhere in the back rang; one of your fellow waiters unwrapped a granola bar.

“Peter?”

“Yeah.”

“Peter.” That time, you kicked his shoe with your closest foot.

He looked wildly up and around, only to relax when he saw that there wasn’t anyone in a giant mechanical rhinoceros suit headed straight for him. “Huh?”

You sighed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Mostly. I just…”

You wondered then if he kept staring at your hands to avoid staring at your belly. His eyes drifted slowly over to the swell of it obvious even through your sweater (it might have been May, but your school wanted you to wear something a little less indecent than your usual button down). Then, just as slowly, he brought them back up to your face.

“You just what?” you asked around your suddenly thick tongue.

“Nothing. It’s…dumb. But you had your appointment earlier this week, right? You know what it—you know what we’re…you know what the baby is?”

Things between you and Peter had settled down since you’d gone to see him at school a few months before. You both texted most nights (knowing full well FRIDAY was keeping logs of every message sent); Happy and May had come over for a much less uneventful dinner (not a fun experience this time either); and sometimes you even got to talk to him after one of his training sessions (so long as Steve or Clint hung around; you didn’t exactly jump at the chance when it was your dad who volunteered). All the same, your relationship felt tenuous, like you were walking on a wire just to keep things casual. That was why you sounded so guarded when you answered:

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” Now that he’d broached the subject, he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off your baby bump. “And what is it?”

“Peter…”

“I just want to know. That’s all.”

He’d picked a good place to ask. If you blew up in the middle of the hospital, you’d probably get carted off to the psychiatric ward—or, worse, someone would go wrench your father away from the birth of his good daughter so he could yell at you some more for your bad behavior.

Truth be told, you didn’t really want to blowup at Peter anyway. You loved him, and you still felt plenty guilty over deciding to give the baby up for adoption (and reject his sort-of proposal) without asking him about it first. The only thing was that you worried about what giving him that information might do.

“It’s…the baby’s a girl,” you said quietly.

His eyes went as round and as huge as one of your dad’s largest serving platters.

“Is that bad?” you asked.

Seemingly unable to speak, Peter shook his head. Your free fingers crept almost unconsciously to your belly as you watched him. What was he so freaked out about? Either the baby was going to be a boy or a girl. What other options were there? He wasn’t the kind of guy to hope the baby was a stillborn, so that couldn’t be it.

Finally, Peter let out a long sigh. “Is she pretty?”

Your knee-jerk reaction was to remind him all babies looked the same before they were born—and usually for a while after that, too. You surprised yourself by saying instead, “Yeah. She’s beautiful.”

“Does she look like you or me?”

“Me. She’s got a real big head.”

Alarm bells went off in your head. What were you doing? This baby was growing inside you, sure, but you weren’t supposed to get attached. She was going to some nice family as soon as she could. You couldn’t talk like she was coming home with you. All the same, when Peter grinned, you grinned right along with him.

“You’re head’s not that big,” he said.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. You know, my mom tore when she had me.”

“T-tore?” All the blood drained from Peter’s face.

“Yeah. Around my head.”

“Is that…is that going to happen to you?”

“I don’t know. It’s a possibility.” One you had a lot of nightmares about, too. The way Peter looked away from you and licked his lips made you think he might start having nightmares about it himself.

“Being pregnant’s really hard, isn’t it?” he asked.

“It’s no walk in the park. But,” you said, when he continued to stare at his jean-clad knees, “if I had to have anyone’s baby, I’m glad it’s yours.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because you’re kind.”

“Tell that to Flash.”

“Punching Flash doesn’t count. I owe you for that one.”

“No, you don’t.” Your eyes met once more. Peter’s tongue flashed at the corner of his thin mouth. Butterflies erupted in your stomach before he could speak. “Listen, I was wondering—”

“Peter, don’t.”

“I was just wondering what you’d want to call her. If we were going to raise her. What would you want to name her?”

“But we’re not keeping her,” you said.

“I know. But just…if we were.”

A lot of things about this situation hurt. Mostly your body, obviously, but also a lot of relationships and your grades and your self-esteem. None of that really made you twinge as deeply inside as considering the name of the baby you’d hardly get to hold in your arms. Logically, you knew you’d made the right choice in not keeping her, in finding her a family that would keep her safe, in getting her into a home that would have room for nothing but love for her. Emotionally, you couldn’t pretend you hadn’t spent the past few days obsessively thinking over the very thing Peter was asking you.

“Bethany,” you whispered. Your fingers pressed against your bump as you closed your eyes. “I want to call her Bethany, after my mother.”

You breathed deeply in through your nose then out through your mouth, then repeated the process several times. Bucky had suggested that to you last time he’d been present for one of your fun little panic attacks. Oddly enough, it helped…though you assumed Bucky didn’t need it nearly as often to prevent himself from bursting into tears in public.

A warm weight pressed against your hand closest to Peter. Opening your eyes, you found he had placed his hand on top of yours and interlaced your fingers again. Tears sparkled in his warm brown eyes.

“I think that’s a beautiful name,” he said hoarsely.

“Y-You do?”

He nodded. “I think I’d want to call her May, too. After all Aunt May’s done for me, it just seems right.”

“Bethany May?” you suggested.

“Bethany May.”

“Parker or Stark?”

“Parker-Stark. What else?”

Even though everything about the scene throbbed like a healing bruise, you and Peter worked your ways into tearful smiles.

“Bethany May Parker-Stark,” you murmured.

Peter echoed the sentiment, his eyes misty. Then: “So we really can’t keep her?“ he asked.

Reality doused your modicum of happiness like a bucket of cold water tipped over an ember. "No. We can’t.”

“But—”

“But what, Peter? We’ve been over this a thousand times already.”

He lifted his shoulders, tensing for an argument…then let out a long sigh and leaned his head backward against his chair until he was staring up at the paneled ceiling. “I know. I guess it’s just that…I don’t even remember my parents. I don’t want our daughter to grow up like that, wondering about what we’re like.”

“I know the feeling.”

“You do?”

“Sure. My mom told me when I was really little who my dad was. I kept asking her to bring him in for career day at school. Obviously, she couldn’t do that. She probably only told me because she figured if I told anyone, they’d think I was playing pretend. I kinda thought she was playing pretend, too, when I got older.”

“But Mr. Stark is your dad. You knew that.”

“It sounded too good to be true. That’s part of why I ran off to see him. I knew Mom never told him about me before she died, and I just thought if he knew me, everything would be okay.” Which, contrary to everything the world taught, it had been. For a little while, at least. Until you got it into your head to have sex with your boyfriend.

“Do you think Bethany’ll ever do that? Run away to meet us?”

“She won’t have to. These people who are adopting her are really nice, Peter. They work for SHIELD. They promised me that if she wants to when she’s older—when we’re older—they won’t stop her from looking for us or making contact. Besides,” you went on, “Fury’s pretty sure she’s going to wind up with your abilities, and if she does, there’s no way she won’t figure out who her dad is.”

“You really think so?” said Peter, lips curling up into a smile he couldn’t quite allow.

“I do. Oh!”

Your sudden exclamation had Peter’s attention off the ceiling and right back on you. “What is it? What’s happening?”

“Nothing.” His serious expression caused you to giggle. It really was a good thing he wore a mask as Spider-Man; he was too cute to scare any crooks bare-faced like that. “I just think that she already knows you’re her father.”

Peter’s brow furrowed further still. Without explanation, you gently lifted the hand he had resting on top of yours, brought it inches from the fabric of your sweater, and let him go.

“Touch it,” you said.

“Huh?”

“Just do it. Quick! She doesn’t keep it up for very long.”

His confusion did not evaporate. Frowning, he did as he was told, with many glances back at your face. Did he think you were trying to trick him somehow? You held your breath. If she didn’t do it again right away…

He gasped as he felt that same popping popcorn-like sensation inside you. “Oh my God!” he said. “Is that her? Is-is she doing that?”

“She’s kicking!”

“I can’t bel—”

“Miss Stark.”

You and Peter froze at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Your eyes remained locked on each other’s for several seconds, but the bubble of happiness had utterly burst. Embarrassed and reluctant, you looked over to see a frazzled-looking woman in scrubs standing with a clipboard only a few feet away.

“Yes?” You tried to use your most dignified tone. She didn’t look impressed.

“The baby’s been born and checked out. Your parents would like you to come in and see them now,” she said.

Both you and Peter rose in unison, his hand slipping away from your stomach and back down to your hand. Neither of you got more than a step away from your seats before the nurse shook her head.

“I’m sorry, sir, but only family is allowed in the room for now.”

Peter didn’t let you dawdle or argue. “That’s okay,” he said quickly. “Aunt May will be here soon. You go on ahead. We’ll catch up later.”

He was probably right. As much as you wanted him with you for this moment, rules were rules. You allowed Peter to pull you in for a quick kiss, then went off to follow the nurse to Pepper’s delivery room. When you got to the door leading to the hall, you turned to look at him one last time. He waved. You waved back.

The tears threatened to rush right to your eyes once again as you turned away. This time, you refused to let them free. You couldn’t cry when this was such a happy moment for your dad and Pepper. With a sniff, you rubbed the moisture accumulating on your lower lids away, after which you hurried after the still-moving nurse. What was there to cry about anyway, you wondered. At least someone was getting a happily ever after after all of this, even if that someone couldn’t be you.

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years ago

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So I was showing my sister your amazing Q-A posts, when I came across Peter's. I realized that you just keep mentioning the incompetence of the Order, and how they're just a bunch of babysitters who don't do anything throughout many posts, but never actually wrote a rant about them and their members. Can you do that, while stating all the things they did/didn't do and their uselessness to the Order? What can I say I love your rants!

Caveat that it has been a while since I’ve read books 5, 6, and 7 of Harry Potter. I have a fantastic memory but some things may slip my mind. If I grievously offend anyone and it turns out the Order does actually do something, anything, of any vague importance then feel free to let me know and shame me on the internet.

With that, the story of why I think the Order of the Phoenix is a ridiculous organization that was mostly there because Dumbledore felt the need to have a guerilla resistance group (you’ve got to have a guerilla resistance group! Or, if Tom has a secret cult, I must have one too! BUT WITH BIRDS! COO COO KACHOO TOM RIDDLE!)

First, let’s look at our lineup.

Yes, we have a few aurors in the midst, but even with them the lineup is... worrying. In the first war we knew that key figures had presumably just graduated Hogwarts and joined the Order (James and Sirius). For all we know, they were recruited even before graduation. This makes sense as James’ is a big financial win for Dumbledore and was probably, perhaps with Longbottom, in charge of funding most of their operations. That and he and Longbottom give Dumbledore a voice in the Wizengamot (which so far as I can surmise is the only real governing body in the country, the ministry exists, but it all boils down to the Wizengamot).

The point being, James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Lily are all barely squeaking out of Hogwarts not only when they join the Order but also even by the time they die. More, it could be because the books are from Harry’s point of view and he has a serious thing about worshipping James, but James in particular is made to sound very vital to the Order’s operations. A twenty-one-year-old who charged Voldemort without a wand (I really shouldn’t give James shit for this, it was a desperate situation, an attack they had not anticipated, he’s young, and panicking. I will still give James shit for this.)

Otherwise we have Mundungus Fletcher, who gives strong vibes of being an alcoholic and is just a generally unreliable, shady, dude who will steal your silverware and pawn it on the black market when you aren’t looking.

We have Molly and Arthur Weasley, whose only use I can possibly think of is being moral support and... I don’t know... providing safe houses maybe? Seriously, we have no indication they’re good at dueling (less so as Harry’s shocked when Molly takes on Bellatrix and miraculously wins). We know Arthur’s not a very intelligent guy. Arthur and Molly have no sense of... Well, suffice to say, if Dumbledore gave them any real information they’d run away screaming. They throw Percy out of the family for becoming Fudge’s secretary, I’m sure Dumbledore was just internally screaming and begging them not to do it so he can make Percy a spy. But he can never say as much as such a notion would horrify Molly and Arthur. Molly and Arthur are also presented as vital members of the Order by the way. Molly and Arthur. ARTHUR.

We have what remains of the Marauders in the second go around: Remus and Sirius. Remus, while a competent wizard, nobody can quite trust for the reason they couldn’t quite trust him last time: he’s still a werewolf and has no reason to support the current government. Sirius is recovering from ten years in hell and is in no condition to do anything, knows it, loathes it, and is clawing at the walls of the safehouse he was pretty much forced to provide the Order.

We then have the aurors. Kingsly seems competent enough but more than him we have Moody and we have Tonks. Tonks is young and seems very very green, she was a good enough duelist to get into the auror corps but we know she’s dreadfully clumsy and often seems to treat Order business as this very exciting super secret mission she’s on. Moody, is a paranoid wreck who is almost comical for his utterly ridiculous skepticism of everything and seems incapable of making any true plans or taking any real action.

Looking at the Order of the Phoenix is kind of like watching “Dodgeball”, you just have this really weird collection of people who try to dodge wrenches, only the Death Eaters aren’t much better, so it kind of evens out.

But onto why I think they do nothing... It’s because we see them do nothing.

We don’t get much information on the first war but at best it seems like there were a few minor skirmishes in the street now and then. I always imagine something like the Sharks and the Jets in Westside Story. They’re walking along the streets, spot each other, dramatic music ensues and a rumble begins, then they scamper away when the aurors come in.

Remember that these guys aren’t a legitimate organization and really don’t have the structure of one. Back in the day they were probably, essentially, a street gang.

We get a little more evidence of what we see them get up to in the later books. And it’s all just kind of sad.

Remus is sent on the world’s most ridiculous and hopeless quest to recruit werewolves. Why do I say ridiculous and hopeless, what the hell does Remus have to offer these guys? Werewolves are ridiculously oppressed by the current government, they cannot obtain an education, they cannot hold jobs, they’re desperately unemployed and people routinely talk about wiping them out. Remus comes up to them and says, “Hey guys, come support the guerilla movement that supports the government that talks about killing you all the time! It’ll be great!” They’ll either put Remus’ head on a pike or if they’re nice just laugh at him until he leaves. I’d say it’d be worth it, except that it’s an exceedingly dangerous task that probably would end with Remus’ head on a pike. As it is, it ends in embarrassing failure. And this is one of the more legitimate Order missions.

Hagrid, similarly, is sent to talk to the giants and it ends in equally embarrassing failure for the same reasons (why would the giants ever support the ministry and or Dumbledore who promises them nothing). Also, sending Hagrid to talk diplomacy, with anyone, ever. Surely, there’s no way that could possibly go wrong.

Otherwise their big task seems to be to babysit Harry and transfer him from the Dursleys to the Burrow/Grimmuald Place. The first, they fail at, Mundungus gets put on the job the one day something actually happens and it’s a complete disaster. The second, they also fail at, as I never understood why they couldn’t just portkey him where they needed him to go or at least closer by. The polyjuice flight across the sky was... really unecessary.

You can tell by the seriousness with which most Order members, i.e. Tonks, take the babysitting Harry duty that this is a very serious task for very serious people. Given this, Tom’s lack of overt action in the fifth and sixth books, the fact that we don’t seem to see them do anything even in the seventh book... Yeah, this and keeping an eye out for that prophecy are their most exciting jobs.

Remember that rescuing Harry from the Department of Mysteries wasn’t really Dumbledore’s idea. That was an emergency situation where he had to pull out the stops, more, I suspect Sirius went “CHAAAAAARGE” and gleefully rushed out into glorious battle with the Order directly behind him and Dumbledore going, “Well, shit.”

I guess the last thing I’ll say is that we also see that Dumbledore has very little confidence in the Order. He gives them nothing important to do and, more, gives them virtually no intelligence.

He never tells the Order about the horcruxes (their existence or Harry, Hermione, and Ron’s super serial mission to track them down and destroy them). He never relays to them that Harry himself is a horcrux. He never reveals the suicide ploy with Snape or that he was in fact dying before that point. He never reveals Malfoy’s assassination attempts. Dumbledore doesn’t tell them jack shit.

If he relies on anyone, usually when he’s forced to, it’s Severus Snape. This I think is not only because Snape is forced in a way to be loyal thanks to the life debt to Harry as well as his own overwhelming sense of guilt but also because he’s the only really intelligent and competent one there.

The Order’s just... if you need someone to pick up Harry or else keep an eye on him when Mrs. Figg is busy: they’re your guys. Otherwise, they make Dumbledore feel good about himself?

#ask #anon #the order of the phoenix #harry potter #headcanons

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moonknightly · 4 years ago

Text

and you keep me holding on : santiago garcia x reader (nine)

Word Count: 2.3k+

Excerpt: “He’s figured out that she thinks she’s dreaming every time she opens her eyes and sees him. She thinks that she’s going to wake up to Nathan and that Santiago will be gone.”

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault, cursing, uhhh I think that’s it?

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

OCTOBER FIFTH — DAY TWO

Santi isn’t sure who calls her parents, but they’re in the waiting room the next morning and while he knows that they have every right to be there, he wishes that they would just go away. Her mother is already talking about taking her “home” the second she’s released from the hospital.

He doesn’t have the energy to fight with them yet, doesn’t know how to tell her grieving parents that her home is with him. She belongs with him, he’ll take care of her.

But then again, he’s already failed once.

Maybe she won’t feel safe with him anymore.

Maybe she won’t feel safe in the new apartment, she won’t recognize it. Sure, she’ll look around and see familiar furniture, some pictures and the duvet she’d picked out herself. Nevada. Maybe she’ll smell Santi’s cologne in the air or the stench from the cigarettes he smokes when things get just a little too hard, but it’ll all be in a space that’s entirely new.

Did he make the right decision? Should he have stayed at the last place?

No. No, he doesn’t think that would’ve been smart either.

Maybe she does need to go with her parents, back to the house she grew up in, where her room hasn’t been touched since she was in high school and everything is familiar.

But then she says his name in her sleep, and he knows that he’s not going to be able to let her go.

He knows he can take care of her. He’ll do it right this time, he’ll never let a damn thing happen to her ever again.

So Santi shuts it down the moment her mother brings it up again, and he’s surprised that her father actually sides with him on it. It doesn’t turn into an argument like he thought it would and he’s beyond thankful for that.

She stays asleep for most of the day, only waking up for a little while at a time, and when she does, she refuses to take her eyes off of Santi. It only serves as further confirmation that she needs him, he’s the right decision.

Jay offers to stay with them for a while, thinking maybe they’ll both feel better with another set of eyes, a little added protection, and at first Santi shakes his head — he feels guilty for some reason, he doesn’t know exactly why but he feels like it’s too much.

But then she has a nightmare, and he watches as Jay immediately reaches out and touches her cheeks to let her know she’s not alone, she’s safe and they’re right there. Santi’s positive that Jay has noticed that he hasn’t touched her yet, and he also knows that she probably needs someone who will be able to give her physical reassurance when she wants it.

So he caves, only if Jay will take his bed while he crashes on the couch and of course Jay says no.

But it’s not something they really have to worry or argue about right then.

She’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

OCTOBER SIXTH — DAY THREE

Every single news channel has been covering her return just as much, if not more, as her disappearance. They’re still looking for Nathan, but Santi’s sure they’ll never find him. Not anytime soon, at least.

He didn’t know if he’d dumped her with the intention of her being found alive or dead, but either way he has to know she’s been found and that they’re looking for him again with the same amount of ferocity as they had been when she first went missing. He hates to think about that, how after just a few months everything just seemed to die down for everyone else but those in his little circle, and even then sometimes he felt like the only one who still cared.

Santi shakes his head and pushes those thoughts away.

Her. He just needs to focus on her.

They’d gotten her temperature up, and the cocktail of medicine they’d been pushing for the last three days seem to be doing their job. Her scans all came back clear, no damage to her heart or brain. All in all, she’s responding well to treatment.

She’s still confused though, still disorientated whenever she wakes up but the doctors assure Santi that it’s completely normal and to be expected. He’d asked them how long it would take for her to become lucid and coherent, and they hadn’t really been able to give him an answer.

Could be a few days, could be another week.

But it’s okay, she needs to rest. She needs to rest and Santi needs to get a fucking grip on himself so he can be there for her when she’s finally fully conscious again.

He thinks the nurses have started to notice that he’s keeping his distance, and that they’ve been setting him up to touch her in small ways that he can never really say no to.

“Can you fix her blanket for me?”

“Hold her hand up while I replace the bandage on her IV?”

“Help me slide her over?”

He always does what’s asked of him, but his fingers never linger and he’s managed to do it all without directly touching her skin so far. The sweatshirt she’s in is good for more than just keeping her warm.

But still, he doesn’t really count it as touching her. Direct contact with her body isn’t something he can even imagine right now because he still wants to cry every time he pulls away from her, and he’s only touching a fucking piece of clothing she’s wearing.

Santi needs to get his shit figured out.

It’s not fair to her, not in the least.

So at three in the morning, when he knows it’s going to be another hour before her morning labs are drawn, when he knows that there won’t be a single person in to bother them until then, he gets out of the chair he’s been living in and moves to sit on the end of her bed.

She stirs, and the panic in her eyes is immediate. Her fingers tighten around the blanket and she looks like she’s getting ready to scream or cry out.

He hates it. He hates causing it even though he knows that he’s not really the reason behind it.

He clears his throat and whispers her name, trying his best to keep his voice from wavering.

She blinks, his voice clearly registering in her head though she still looks confused and unsure, but the terror melts away. She knows this is someone safe, someone that she can trust and someone who isn’t going to hurt her. She’s safe.

“Stay.”

“I’m right here, baby.”

She shakes her head and closes her eyes again. “You always leave.”

He’s figured out that she thinks she’s dreaming every time she opens her eyes and sees him. She thinks that she’s going to wake up to Nathan and that Santiago will be gone.

It breaks his heart.

“You’re not dreaming sweetheart. You’re okay.”

She shakes her head again.

“I’m right here,” he repeats, taking a deep breath before he reaches his hand out, but he stops when he’s only an inch away.

There’s no heat radiating from her, and if he wasn’t standing there watching her breathe he’d be thinking the worst.

It finally hits Santi just how small and fragile she is.

And now he feels like if he touches her, he’ll break her.

He pulls his hand back.

He’ll try again tomorrow.

OCTOBER SEVENTH — DAY FOUR

It’s cold and dark and his voice is coming from all around her. He’s calling her name, threatening her with things that she tries so hard to block out but they still creep into her mind, filling her with even more panic and dread as she’s left to think about what he’s going to do to her once he finds her.

Nathan calls it “The Game”.

He gives her a thirty second head start, tells her to run as far and as fast as she can, and if she can get away, she’s free. She can go home.

But if he catches her, his twisted words become a reality. He’ll keep her chained up for a few days, or maybe it’s a couple weeks or even a month, she’s never really sure but then the cycle repeats.

And he always catches her, always. No matter how sure she is that she’s finally escaped, he’s always right there to pin her to the ground and have his way with her. He’s always there to crush her hope and what little faith she’s able to gain back in those brief moments of thinking she’s free.

She shakes her head, trying to clear her mind enough to focus. She needs to get moving.

She looks down to figure out which way she had come and there’s snow. She hates snow. She used to love it, back when her and Santi would go for walks around Christmas time, hot cocoa in hand with their arms linked together. She wonders if he’s put the tree up this year. She wonders if Christmas has already passed.

But per usual, that happy thought of Santiago is ripped away from her when she hears Nathan’s voice again, this time only closer. Her skin crawls.

She has to start running. She knows she’s not as fast as she used to be, she’s too weak, but she has to try.

God, she hates snow.

She never stands a chance. It’s always so easy for Nathan to follow her tracks, and it always feels like there are tiny little needles stabbing into her bare feet with each step she takes, but she doesn’t allow herself to feel it in the moment, no. She never thinks about the pain until The Game is over, because of course she’ll take that moment of pain in trade for freedom. She’ll take those pins in needles if it means she’s just one step closer to getting away.

She thinks she might have it this time. Nathan’s voice is far off again, and she can see something in the distance. A road, maybe.

Yes, a road. That was definitely a car zooming past.

She runs faster, that familiar hope blossoming in her chest. She’s so close, so so close. Just a few more yards-

But then there’s crushing weight on top of her, and rough hands grabbing at her hips and she doesn’t have to look to know who it is.

He found her, of course he found her.

She immediately starts to cry, kicking herself because she should have expected it, she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes so high. All Nathan does is laugh and pull her closer, and then she feels his hand move into her hair. He holds her head up so she can keep her eyes on the road while he gets himself ready to do what he always does.

She tries to just lay there, begging her mind to drift off towards Santi, towards her safe place. When she thinks about him instead of what’s happening, it’s not so bad. Santi makes it all better.

But then another car drives by, and then another, and another and she can’t focus on anything but the fact that she’d been so close. There were people right there, maybe close enough to hear her if she’s loud enough.

She screams.

She wakes up screaming.

She’s screaming and kicking and Santi’s immediately by her side, calling her name, begging her to look at him but she doesn’t hear a thing, doesn’t register it.

He calls out for a nurse, starting to panic, afraid that she’s hurt and in pain but then he hears his name leave her lips in a broken, mangled sob and he knows she must’ve been dreaming.

He wants to cry with her. He hates seeing her like this.

Two nurses rush into the room, trying to get her attention as well but to no avail. They’re asking her what hurts, what happened, but all she can do is thrash around and call out for Santi again.

Hearing her like that, it’s the final push he needs to finally reach out to her.

Santi takes her hand, kissing each of her knuckles once he feels like she’s not going to punch him while he whispers that it’s okay, he’s right here and he’s not leaving her. She’s not with Nathan, she’s not in danger. She’s okay.

She doesn’t calm down, not really, so beyond terrified that Santiago’s voice is nothing but a trick her mind is playing on her, that he is the dream, one her brain had created to block it all out.

He repeats his words a second time, moving one of his hands up to her cheek, and it seems to break her out of it just a little bit more. He brings the second one up so that he’s cupping her face, and he watches as she immediately melts into him.

“You’re okay, sweet girl, it’s okay. It’s me, Santi.”

She doesn’t open her eyes. He wishes she would, but he doesn’t expect her to, not really. She’s so tired and he’s sure crying has left her completely exhausted.

He knows he’s right when her breathing evens out again.

But he doesn’t let go. Now that he’s touched her, he doesn’t want to stop, even though he knows that once she’s coherent it’ll probably be the last thing she wants.

He’ll take it while he can get it though.

He holds her hand all night long.

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years ago

Text

Hermit Rivals: Skizz and Logic

this is a bunch of short scenes put together based on the tiny amount of Skizz/Logic content we got in twitch rivals: hermit raiders :D they don’t really blend together very well but i couldn’t figure out how to do it so enjoy anyway lol

…

Waiting in the lobby for the competition to start, LogicalGeekBoy is talking strategy with his team when he feels something poking him in the back. He turns and finds himself face to face with a grinning Skizzleman. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Logic chuckles. “What’s up?”

“I’m gonna beat you,” says Skizz. “I can’t beat Impulse cuz he’s on my team so you’re next on my list of friends I wanna beat.”

“Oho, fighting talk, huh?” teases Logic.

“You bet! You may be one of the smartest people I know but I bet my team can beat you in a fighting-based competition.”

“Okay, you know what? You’re on.” Logic grins. “Forget first place; my only goal is to beat your team.”

Skizz grins back. “Oh, you are ON! You’re not gonna know what hit you!”

Logic laughs as he watches Skizz bound off back to his team. “So easy to wind up.”

“We better beat their team now,” remarks Doc.

Logic nods. “Oh yeah, losing is NOT an option. If he beats me, I’m not gonna hear the end of it for weeks. Maybe the rest of my life.”

On the other side of the lobby, Skizz bounces up to his teammates. “GUYS. We gotta beat Team Doc!”

“Okay, why them, specifically?” False asks.

“Because if I don’t beat Logic now, he’s gonna lord it over me for the rest of my life.”

“Are you sure you’re not thinking of yourself?” asks Impulse teasingly.

“Shut up, I hate you.”

…

“Uh, guys?” Doc’s voice comes over their team comms line. “I don’t want to alarm anyone but I’m currently being attacked by iJevin.”

“What?!” Logic yelps.

“Oh, this is the hermit mob round,” says Xisuma, sounding unfazed. “The waves this time are mobs retextured to look like the players in the event.”

“Well, THAT’s not disturbing at all,” Doc responds wryly.

Logic quickly slices down a mob version of fWhip, before darting around a house to find a lone mob he can see highlighted behind it.

But he stops dead as he registers the mob standing there.

“Oh no…!”

Mob-Skizz immediately starts moving towards him, arms up, trying to reach him to attack. Its movement is clearly that of a zombie but Logic is still frozen, his sword hanging limply in his grip. He doesn’t want to attack his friend.

“Skizz, please, I…! I don’t wanna hurt you…!”

As he backs away, trying to think of something else he can do, he feels his heel catch something and he topples backwards. He looks up to find Mob-Skizz advancing on him, within a few blocks of attacking. His sword is within reach but…

Logic’s rational mind knows this is just a mindless zombie made to look like his friend but he can’t bring himself to strike something that looks like Skizz, even when said thing is attacking him. He strains against Mob-Skizz as it starts raking its claws down his arms and trying to bite him.

Then he hears the sound of a mob taking damage and the pressure is lifted from his arms. Logic barely has time to breathe before he’s grabbed by the hand and hauled to his feet.

“Logic, FOCUS,” Doc scolds him. “We can’t afford to waste time dying!”

Logic watches Doc run back into the fray before taking a moment to inspect his arms. Several long red welts stare back at him.

He grimaces. Come on, Logic… It’s not the real Skizz attacking you. You think Skizz would hesitate to kill a mob looking like you? Get a grip.

…

“Oh no, all the mobs are hermits!” yelps Impulse, almost toppling off the roof of the house he’s perched on. “Skizz, get them towards the pit!”

Skizz immediately takes off running but as he’s luring the hermit-mobs towards the lava pit, something catches his eye. Out of all the hermit-mobs swarming towards him, one particular one causes his stomach to lurch.

“Skizz, let’s GO,” False’s impatient voice snaps.

Blinking himself out of his thoughts, Skizz dodges around Mob-Logic and leads a whole group of them carefully to the lava pit they’ve made. He jumps over and turns back to check it’s working.

And it is; the mobs try to follow Skizz over the opened trapdoors and fall straight into the lava below.

Skizz cheers. “Woo, look at that! It’s working!”

But his grin quickly falls as he spots THAT mob again, falling into the lava pit. He has to catch himself before he yells Logic’s name, as if it’s his real friend sinking into the lava. Mob-Logic is staring up at him with wide eyes, Logic’s eyes, as it dies a fiery death.

Unable to bear it any longer, Skizz takes off running and shuts himself in one of the houses, breathing deeply in and out to quell the nausea threatening to spill out of him.

“Skizz, where did you go?” comes False’s voice over the comms.

“I-I need a moment...!”

Impulse clearly hears the emotion in Skizz’s voice, and he’s known Skizz long enough to realise immediately what’s affecting his best friend. “Skizz, it’s not real,” he says reassuringly. “I know it’s hard but you have to see them as the mobs they are, not our friends.”

“You don’t understand,” whispers Skizz.

He opens his mouth again but he can’t find the right words. How is he supposed to explain how awful the churning in his stomach at the sight of his close friend dying in lava was? The way Logic’s eyes looked back at him as if asking “why would you do this to me…?” How agonising it was to fight against every instinct in his body screaming at him to jump into the lava pit and save his friend?

After a moment, he sighs. Come on, Skizz. Logic’s probably got no problem with killing a mob that looks like you. Get a grip.

…

In the lobby at the end of the round, False is looking at her team captains’ communication line. “Looks like Team Doc’s round is bugged,” she reports.

Skizz is immediately alert; that’s Logic’s team. “Are they okay?”

False nods. “Yeah, apparently the game seems to think there’s two raid guys left but they can’t see anything highlighted and it says zero of seventy-five on the side of their screen.”

“Oh, you’re right,” says Impulse, seeing 0/75 written next to Team Doc’s name on his screen. “It’s stuck on zero. What are they gonna do?”

“Just let the round end naturally, apparently.”

“Aw man,” mutters Skizz. He hopes Logic’s doing okay; he knows his friend has a thing about bugs and glitches.

But down in the village, Logic just wants this round to end. Exhausted from searching for the final two raid mobs their screen says still exist, Logic is morosely gathering up the hay bales from around the village. They had been doing so well. Sure, they weren’t on track to win or anything. But they may have at least gotten fourth or fifth, but now they’ll be sixth by default. All thanks to the stupid glitch. That’s points thrown away that they can’t afford to lose.

“The admins say they’re gonna put us down joint fifth with Team False,” Doc reports after a while. “Two points.”

“Better than one,” Xisuma mutters.

This actually helps Logic feel better. He knows their team can’t win but it would be nice to beat Skizz’s team.

…

Wandering around the lobby, listening to Doc and Xisuma argue strategies over their team comms line, Logic spots a dandelion lying on the floor. He picks it up and, after a quick scan of the area to find a specific person, trots over to the corner of the lobby where Team False are having a meeting.

“-why whatever we face next will be-.” False breaks off as she spots him approaching. “Hey! Logic! Get outta here!”

“Team meeting, man, c’mon,” Skizz, who is sitting with his back to the wall, adds. “Get outta here. Can't be stealing our strategies, dude.”

Logic silently places the flower on Skizz’s knee and takes a few steps back.

As he registers what the item is, Skizz glances up sheepishly. “Oh. Thanks, buddy.”

Logic just smiles. He and Skizz both know he tends to not speak much in social situations involving people he isn’t fully comfortable with.

“Yeah yeah, great, now get outta here,” False says brusquely. “This is our meeting place.”

In response, Logic sits down next to Skizz, looking expectantly up at False.

Impulse and Skizz both snicker at False’s exasperated eye-roll. “Skizz, make your friend go away.”

Skizz nudges Logic in the side. “You heard the captain, bro. We gotta talk strategy.”

Logic’s sad frown almost makes Skizz change his mind on the spot. He gives a chuckle and pats him on the shoulder. “Bro, you know I love you, but you’re not on our team. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

After a moment, Logic nods, stands up, and starts walking away.

Skizz watches him go, then jumps to his feet. “Hold on, be right back,” he says quickly to his teammates.

He rushes after Logic and catches him just turning the corner. “Wait a sec, Logic.”

Logic turns, smiling at his friend. “What’s up?”

Skizz hesitates, then clasps Logic’s hands and presses a small item into them. “Stay safe, buddy,” he says earnestly, before turning and rushing back to his team.

Logic stares after him for a moment before opening his hands to check the item Skizz gave him.

It’s a totem of undying.

…

Logic is perched atop the sky island, firing down on the ghasts from above. Far down on the ground, he can see the figures of Doc and Xisuma taking on the ground mobs. Even though he’s not great at fighting, Logic is far better with a bow than a sword.

A ghast screech behind him causes him to spin round. To his horror, he finds a ghast staring directly at him from less than a hundred blocks away, a fireball already flying towards him. He swings his axe back, ready to try and hit it back at the flying mob, but he mis-hits and the fireball knocks him clean off the island. And it’s only now that he realises he forgot to grab the elytra from the chest.

Logic can’t help a scream as he plummets, hands fumbling for anything he can use to save himself. But he has no hay bales, no buckets of water, no elytra. Nothing except…

His fingers close around the totem of undying JUST before he hits the ground. The loud explosion-like sound and spray of green sparkles lets him know the totem worked. He hurriedly scrambles into the nearest house and shuts the door, breathing heavily.

“Logic, you okay?” comes Xisuma’s voice over the radio.

“Y-Yeah, all good,” replies Logic shakily. “Gimme a second.”

He checks himself down. No injuries anywhere.

A smile spreads over his face. “Thanks for looking out for me, Skizz,” he murmurs.

…

Skizz sits on the stairs leading up to the seating area, absently twirling the flower in his hand. As is the same after every event, his mind is occupied by racing thoughts and ideas of how he could have done better.

“Penny for ‘em?” comes a friendly voice.

Skizz glances up to find Logic coming up the stairs towards him. “Hey, buddy. Nah, you don’t wanna hear about my stupid thoughts.”

Logic sits down next to Skizz. “Try me.”

After a moment, Skizz sighs. “I dunno, I just can’t help feeling that I held my team back. We came last overall and… it was probably my fault.”

“No, dude, I can assure you it wasn’t,” responds Logic kindly. “Nobody held their team back. You’re always gonna feel like that on a team with two hermits.”

“Did you feel like that?”

“Yeah, I did. I always do when I’m in the presence of hermits. It’s only natural, really. You feel like an imposter almost, like you shouldn’t be playing with such esteemed people. Like even your best will pale in comparison to their average. Like…”

As Logic trails off, Skizz glances sideways at him and finds him staring numbly into thin air. “You okay…?”

Logic blinks himself out of his thoughts. “Oh. Yeah, sorry. Anyway, my point is don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“It’s hard not to be,” responds Skizz morosely. “I don’t think I can name a single useful thing I did that wasn’t what False or Impulse told me to do.”

“I can,” Logic says immediately.

Skizz raises an eyebrow. “How would you know? What can I have done that you would know about?”

“You gave me the totem of undying,” replies Logic pointedly.

Skizz stares at him for a moment. “Wait… really…?”

Logic nods. “I fell off the top island in the fourth round. No elytra, no water, nothing. That totem you gave me saved my life. Even if that was the only useful thing you did unprompted in the whole game, which I doubt, it was worth it to me.”

“Aww…” Skizz puts his arm over Logic’s shoulder. “I’m glad I could help you out, brother.”

The two fall silent for a moment.

Then Logic clears his throat. “So… those mobs that looked like us…”

“Creepy as hell.”

“Extremely creepy,” agrees Logic. “It was cool at first but when a mob that looked like you was trying to bite my face off, it wasn’t quite as cool.”

Skizz blinks. “Oh jeez, that sounds terrifying.”

“And painful too,” Logic says, holding up his hands to show off the red claw marks down his arms.

“Wait, wait, what?!” Skizz stares at the wounds in shock. “That was mob-me?!”

“Yeah, it was vicious. Nearly killed me.”

“Oh gosh…” Skizz shivers. “I’m so sorry.”

Logic laughs. “Skizz, it was a zombie retextured to look like you! You have no reason to apologise.”

After a moment, Skizz nods. “I guess. And hey, I had to watch a mob that looked like you get burned alive in lava, so…”

“All in all, a very good round for nightmares, then.”

“You’re telling me.”

Another pause follows this, punctuated by Skizz rising to his feet and stretching. “Man, I’m worn out. Wanna go hang out with the gang before we go home? Say goodbye to everyone?”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’d be very good company,” Logic responds. “I’m pretty tired and there wouldn’t be much point in me being there if I don’t talk anyway.”

“You’re always good company to me, brother,” says Skizz warmly. “Even when you don’t talk.”

Logic can’t help a smile. “Thanks. Okay then, I’ll come along.”

“Awesome!”

As the two head down the stairs, Logic adds, “And you usually do a pretty good job at interpreting for me, anyway.”

“Usually?” Skizz pretends to be affronted. “Uh, I’m AMAZING at reading your thoughts, thank you very much.”

Logic chuckles. “Uh huh, sure. You know what you're NOT amazing at?"

"What?" asks Skizz warily.

"Beating me in a fighting-based competition."

"OKAY LISTEN-."

#twitch rivals #hermit raiders #skizzleman #logicalgeekboy #vaunna writes

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