#moderately-ok-trash-bin

[an-ecu-harrypotter-au]

TPS Part 4: The Wand Of Intuition

Ah’m dreamin bout mah classes at Hogwarts. Ah dunno what Ah’m doin yet but Ah feel like Ah’m doin somethin right. There’s a kinda mean lookin guy wit black hair but he ain’t smacked me up the head so Ah can’t be messin up too bad.

“Son. Toby ya gotta wake up.”

Ah get up yawnin.

“Wha’s happenin that Ah gotta get up, Pop?”

“We’s gotta go ta dat Diagon Alley place.”

Ah wake up real fast.

“DIAGON ALLEY?!”

Pop pats mah head an shushes me. Ah know Ah used mah outside voice but Ah jus can’t help it.

“Tha’s right Toby. Gonna be goin ta Hogwarts soon so we’s gotta be gettin yer schoolin supplies.”

Ah start wigglin in mah bed an get ready ta go.

“Sit an eat breakfast first Toby. Can’t be doin all our walkin on an empty stomach.”

Ah sit down ta eat cause Pop’s right bout not bein able ta walk much hungry.

“Now ya jus go over yer list agin cause we gotta make sure we get everythang.”

Ah pick up mah paper an Ah read it so many times. Even on the ferry ride ta England Ah read it cause Ah don’t wanna ferget anythang.

“Awright, Toby we’s in London now. Gotta go ta this place called the Leaky Cauldron. Humans ain’t gonna be botherin us cause ta them it’s jus gonna look like an old borin store.”

Ah nod an follow Pop round London. Ah try not ta get distracted by everythang cause Ah’ll jus get all dizzy. Ah keep walkin wit Pop till Ah see a sign sayin Leaky Cauldron.

“Ah see the sign, Pop!”

He turns in the direction Ah’m pointin an Ah feel good bout mahself.

“Well there ya go, Toby. Jus gotta get inside an find a way ta Diagon Alley.”

Ah follow Pop inside an Ah see a lotta wizards wearin fancy robes.

“How can I help ya sir?”

Ah listen ta the man at the bar talk ta Pop while Ah look round. When he’s done Pop leads me ta a wall.

“Watch closely son. The nice man said we’s gotta touch the right brick. See the trash bin here.”

Ah look an nod at Pop.

“Now the nice man done said that we gotta tap the brick tha’s 3 up from the bin.”

He counts 3 bricks up from the top of the bin.

“Then we go 2 ta the right.”

He counts 2 bricks ta the right jus like he says.“

"Gotta remember this brick here, Toby. This brick’s how we get ta Diagon Alley.”

Mah eyes widen when he taps the brick an the whole wall moves ta make a door.

“Now jus hold mah hand son so ya don’t get lost.”

“Ok Pop.”

Ah grab onta Pop’s hand an we start walkin inta the wall ta Diagon Alley. He walks up ta this wooden board.

“This’ gonna be yer first lesson in navigatin son. You’s gonna learn how ta read a map a Diagon Alley.”

“Awright Pop.”

Ah study the map, readin’ and studyin’ it over at the same time.

"Got it in the brain Toby? Made it inta the little squares so’s ya can remember it better?”

“Yeah Pop. Ah got it inta them little squares. The map shows how ta get ta all kinda stores.”

“Tha’s mah boy. We's gonna get yer robes first so we know they's gonna fit ya.”

“Awright Pop.” 

We don't gotta walk far till we see the robe store.

"Now when we's go inside an it's our turn Ah'll make sure ta tell whoever's helpin us that ya need special robes."

"Ok Pop."

We go on inside. Only a couple people inside. Ah see a boy wit brown skin lookin at a set a robes.

"Toby why don't ya go an talk ta that boy there. Ya might end up in the same class."

"Ok."

Ah go up ta 'em.

"Hey. Whatcha lookin at?"

The boy looks at me.

"Dese are self-ironing cloaks."

Ah notice his accent ain't Irish but it ain't like how royalty talk neither.

"Where are ya from? Ah ain't ever anyone talk like ya before?"

"My moder is from Gujarat, India. Her family moved to Leicester."

"Ohhh. So yer part Indian then."

He nods. Ah ain't ever met an Indian before. They jus don't seem ta live in the part a Florida where Ah'm from.

"My fader is British so that's vhy my name is Param Burton. Most people call me Pacer dough."

"Ok. Mah name's Toby. We used ta live in Florida. Now we live in Cork. Tha's in Ireland."

"Do you know vhat House you vill get into?"

Ah blink. Ah dunno anythang bout houses so Ah jus shake mah head.

"Don't matter ta me. Ah jus wanna fit in."

"My fader vants me to be in Huvlepuv like my brother vas."

"Tha's nice."

A woman comes out wit a pretty robe on.

"Mr. Burton your robes are ready to go."

Ah see a guy stand up an walk up ta Pacer. Ah think it's Pacer's dad.

"Thanks. Come on Neelja."

A woman comes up behind 'em an she's got a red dot on 'er forehead.

"Bye Pacer."

He waves at me as they take the robe an leave.

"Who'd ya meet son?"

"Pacer. He's part Indian. Like actual India Pop an not like how some people called momma an Indian."

Pop nods cause he knows a lot bout wha momma went through.

"Well le's get ya fitted wit yer new robes. Gotta make sure ya feel good in 'em."

"Ok."

The woman in pink takes us ta a room an puts a robe on over mah clothes. Pop makes sure ta tell 'er bout mah meltin episodes.

"You don't need to worry about how the robes feel. These are meant to fit over regular clothes."

"Ohhhh. So these're like graduation robes."

"That's right. And the hat is only for special occasions. They are not to be worn on a daily basis."

Ah try ta follow long wit 'er. Ah think wha she's sayin makes sense.

"Now le's try the winter cloak. Gotta make sure Toby don't overheat."

"Alright then. I'll make adjustments to this one and make two more of these."

Ah try ta carefully take mah robe off. Feels nice nough ta not make me melt. Ah then try ta put on the cloak on.

"This feels nice too Pop."

"Tha's good, son. We'll take it."

"Excellent. Just sit down for a few minutes while I get it ready."

Ah take the cloak off an sit down wit Pop. Ah start thinkin bout Pacer an everythang he was sayin. Ah dunno wha Huff an puff is but Ah sure hope it ain't got anythang ta do wit the Big Bad Wolf.

"Awright son. Yer clothes've been paid fer. Le's go an get yer wand."

"Ok Pop."

Ah follow Pop til we get inta the shop an see walls lined wit display racks full a wands.

“Now we’s gotta wait fer this Mr. Ollivander feller. He’s gonna be takin care a ya.”

Ah wiggle a bit cause Ah can’t wait ta get a good wand. Shortly, an old man wit a crooked nose walks towards us.

“'Ello. I see you're lookeng fhr a new wand. What's yooehr name?”

Ah think he’s an Irish guy cause Ah don’t get what he says.

“Oh, uh, we’re lookin’ fer a wand fer mah son here, Toby.”

Ah’m glad Pop gets wha he said.

“Tell me about yooehr sahn. After all, it's de wizard dat makes de wand.”

“Well, uh…Toby’s a bit slow on the uptake when it comes ta conversatin, an the boy’s never been able ta handle stress too well. He’s a good hearted boy. Toby’s got quite a temper, an Ah’ve seen 'em lose it a time or two, even ta the point where he’s started throwin’ things an knockin’ stuff over. Ain’t his fault cause it’s his condition.”

The Ollivander man nods then turns ta me.

“Sound. I’ll take Toby’s measurements and we’ll try out some wands.”

Ah step up ta get measured fer a wand. Mr. Ollivander pulls out an arm’s-length measurin tape on a little roll an measures me from head ta toe, then scribbles numbers on a notepad. He measures mah arm length an mah height. Then Mr. Ollivander picks up a wand.

“This is Englesh Oak. A wand fhr both de good and bad times. It's a wand dat's only as loyal as de wizard who wields it.”

Ah look at mah Pop.

“Means yer a good boy, Toby. This wand’s bout as good a friend as they get. It's the wand a intuition.”

"Wha's intition?"

"Ya get wha ya call gut feelins yeah? Well tha's intiution. Yer wand's got it cause it can feel how ya are as a person."

Ah smile a bit cause that must mean Ah got a good wand that likes me. It's real long too like Ah got a magic tree branch.

“Well, Ah’d like ta try it. Ah feel like this’ the one. All textured an knobby.”

Ah take the wand from Mr. Ollivander’s hands an try ta wave it round. The wand immediately bursts out wit a huge shower of sparks. Mr. Ollivander an Pop look at each other. 

“We’s takin it.”

Pop reaches out ta take the wand ta do the honors of payin for it wit his gold. Mr. Ollivander reaches out ta take it back. Ah get confused bout the white fluffy hair in his hand.

"Wha's that he got Pop?"

“He’s addin a unicorn hair ta yer wand cause it wants ta keep ya from makin mistakes. Ain’t ever gotta worry bout bein a bad wizard wit a unicorn hair wand.”

Ah nod mah head cause Pop makes sense. Mr. Ollivander gives mah wand back an Ah look at it. Ah can’t believe Ah finally got mah own wand.

"Thanks!"

“Come on, son. We’s gotta get yer other supplies.”

Ah wave bye ta Mr. Ollivander an follow Pop outside ta the other stores. By the time we get back ta the ferry, Ah’m so tired Ah jus fall asleep right on Pop’s shoulder.

Tagging: @arrolyn1114, @nemos-rapture, @xanatenshi, @briefpandatimemachine, @hooked-on-elvis,

@vintagepresley, @aliengoth3, @smokeymountainboy, @bigdaddyelvislover, @mercsandmonsters,

@pledgingmylovee, @presleysgirl6, and @thetaoofzoe.

[godly-feh-edits]

Hi! If it’s not too much trouble, could I get an edit of Legendary Edelgard with brown hair like young edelgard from 3h please? I know I’ve requested a similar edit before with standard edelgard. Thanks in advance! I love your edits btw :)

(Mod Africa) Sorry for the delay! Toto forgot to put this in the queue!

[incorrect-rainbow-rocket-quotes]

Hey. Theatre kid Maxie anon again. Off anon now bc I am no longer worried everyone will shun me for committing Cringe Headcanon™️, and now I feel like maybe people will want to talk to me about other maybe-not-cringe things bc that would be neat. Really tho, we had it all backwards. Maxie is the drama kid and Lysandre is the nerd. A nerd with incredible fashion and a knack for grandiose flair? 100%. Can’t deny that. But he DID build a functioning whole-world-death-laser.

moderately-ok-trash-bin said:I suppose that now that I’m off anon I can stop introducing myself. Ok ok but hear me out here. We all think Lysandre’s style and theatrics point to a drama kid. But I do stand by my Nerdy Tech Geek Lysandre. So for your consideration I have... Geek with a strong love for reading novels. Think about it. Timeless, characters are as compelling and beautiful every time you read, it’s a world built entirely by one’s imagination, exactly as you want it to be. (Curse tumblr’s ask limits)

moderately-ok-trash-bin said:(Continuing my last ask) He seems like the type to like fantasy and sci-fi most, but PARTICULARLY real hard, gritty dystopian stuff. He gets absorbed in good writing and compelling settings, and the seeds of similarities he sees between the broken worlds of his stories and the world he truly lives in awakens a grave sense of duty. Only he can see how this world will fall to ruin. Only he can stop it... by whatever means necessary. But anyway that’s just my headcanon. Hope u like it tho 🤷‍♀️

Yoooooouuuuuuuu

YOU

Need to STOP coming up with these GOD-TIER HEADCANONS

I can absolutely see Lysandre liking novels that’re somewhat dystopian and yet philosophical about humanity, like Farenheight 451 and The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, as well as general books on philosophy, like War and Peace (one thing he and Maxie have in common is a love of Tolstoy) and The Space Trilogy.

(He’d give Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? to Cyrus to read at his recommendation.)

[cairnsteward]

Hello. I heard you were letting people talk about their D&D characters. You said this so you brought my annoying rambling upon yourself and this is not my problem :) so I have this Air Genasi Shadow monk character named Aria, she dual-wields swords and attacks by stabbing and kicking her enemies to death. She is very good at this, and can attack up to 24 times in one turn once per day. She was a high-ranked general in the rebel army fighting against the oppressive elven government of her home country until the rebel leader, who she loved and trusted with her life, betrayed her and left her to die in favour of pursuing greater dark power, simultaneously admitting that he killed her father for the same reason. After this, she was left as a wanderer with nowhere to call home and absolutely nobody to trust. She believed that every person was inherently selfish, constantly eager to do whatever they needed to to achieve their own goals with no regard for anyone else unless it benefited them. Fast forward to when she finally finds her way to a new territory, only to be thrust into another battle against another oppressive government, and she is incredibly confused by her newly-acquired travelling companions, the compulsive chemical-drinking, glow-in-the-dark gnomish bard, the fallen angel expelled from heaven for stealing his God’s weed, the ex-slave tiefling Wizard with a drinking problem, and the merely-months-old sorcerer who is literally pure arcana given sentience (Homebrew race), who all really seem to mean her no harm. Shenanigans, secret-finding, drug-cartel-running and country-inheriting abound as these guys try to figure out wtf is going on. Also my dad commissioned art of this character for me as a Christmas present :)

So I think that’s pretty neat.

Anyway sorry that this turned out to be so long, I meant to keep things a little quicker lol

oh my gooOD i love this she sounds like a total badass!!! THAT’S SO MANY ATTACKS also what a cool design???? her haiiir 😍 that party sounds so fun, i hope she can start to trust people again with their help :’))

[ellenchain]

Now that I've had another night's sleep over it, I can kind of put my finger on the one thing that bothers me so much about this ET (apart from the obvious things that this guy is trash):

It doesn't fit into the series!

For comparison: we had an action thriller in Hitman Absolution, 47 was brutal and a bit of a Jason Statham and Tom Cruise version. The boxing ring is also very similar. The game was vulgar, disturbing at times, we suffered with 47, he bled, he fought back; I mean there were gothic nuns to fight, like wtf, but it was entertaining. Hitman was rough and brutal back then. Just like 47.

But with the WOA series, though, we got more James Bond vibes than The Expendables vibes. 47 was now smartly dressed, went to fancy parties, was somehow invulnerable and always the best, no matter where he was. He was calmer, more calculating and didn't seem like someone who would beat another person to death in a ring in front of hundreds of spectators. I was so shocked when I played the story mission. I mean, you don't have to play it like that, but it was the only mission story, so I felt it was "canon". That's why I went for it. But honestly? Why would 47 go into the ring himself? In front of everyone?

Wasn't he the type who always acted as a 'silent assassin' and didn't want to be recognised? Back in Absolution, silent assassin wasn't that important. You could play the game like a shooter and there was hardly any point deduction. I mean, you can also play the WOA series as a kill everyone challenge, but if you play it 'by the book', you get the most points by working stealthy.

You get my point

The other additional content we got recently, they brought rough and brutal 47 back. Level 100 in the safehouse gives you a… Jogging suit? Ok, looks nice I guess. But the outfit for our DJ from the last ET… 47 looked like he was selling crack. The fur jacket that IOI is now trying to sell us doesn't fit 47 at all either. He was our little James Bond with the nice lady in his ear, who would rather hang out at a bar with red wine and champagne to poison someone than beat up some blokes in an underground (with a fur jacket)

But IOI is increasingly marketing Hitman to men again, who see aggression as masculine, and in doing so are pushing female fans away (imho). Because people who are like that are usually very much misogynistic.

Call of Duty had that too, until they realised that women like gaming just as much and sometimes also like dudebro shit (aka FPS). But in moderation. And the fan community is regularly fed with pink guns and funny skins. Doesn't make the racist people go away, but makes playing the game still fun.

So if IOI absolutely wants to cater to the dudebros, it will be a fine line not to throw the newly built WOA in the bin and still let the "new fans" play Andrew Tate.

Lowest level somehow. The WOA had a really interesting story, great gameplay and characters we could identify with. And precisely because 47 was designed so that everyone could identify with him, he is increasingly losing his neutral character. For my part, I cherish the old WOA series and only play these new things because they're there anyway. But for me to give IOI money again, something better has to come along. Especially something that fits into the series - visually and conceptually.

"in in style"

Both people who are currently working for hitman didn’t see that typo, well well

And the elusive target was no fun… a bit cringe even… and "Mr. Doe"?

am I not getting something (except the John Doe name thing from the states) why 47 is no longer mr rieper

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

If it’s not too much trouble, could I request “I did the thing.” and “I will mind your face and you can’t stop me.” Please?

sure can

Askbox is currently closed as I work my way through these older asks

[youth-no-jutsu]

8, 21 and 40 for the ask game :)

sorry it took me so long to answer this!!! thank you so much for sending me this ask :)

what would your go to jutsu be in battle?

since i answered before that i’d have fire chakra nature, it’d have to be a fire style jutsu. i’m honestly a big fan of asuma’s fire style burning ash! if he’d be willing to teach it to me, i’d definitely use the shit out of it.

would you want to learn medical ninjutsu?

it would probably be really practical for me to learn it. i have a bleeding disorder called hemophilia which basically means my body is unable to naturally form its own blood clots so once i start bleeding i can not stop. as you could probably imagine, this can get fairly problematic. knowing medical ninjutsu would benefit me a lot in this aspect, as well as my comrades. but i also take into consideration that you’ve gotta have really wicked good chakra control to use medical ninjutsu, and just judging on my personality and my issues with focusing and such i could see myself having a hard time with chakra control. i’m not sure i’d be very good at it!

which character would be your drinking buddy?

tsunade. hands down. we’d have a fucking hell of a time. and i LOVE playing cards when i’m drunk.

[hermannsthumb]

I've read fics where Hermann disapproves of PDAs but what about the reverse? As in he's so stunned at winning the most amazing man in the Shatterdome (6 phds, literal rockstar, gorgeous Newt) that he deliberately provokes contact and shows of affection. Just to show off to people and send a clear back off signal. And Newt just dotes on him obliviously.

ok this one is another super old prompt and when I was writing it this week it KINDA got away from me. but I hope everyone enjoyyyys. partially inspired from conversations with @k-sci-janitor 👀 totally sfw, except for one brief reference

anyway, a fic about hermann being all affectionate with newt and also discovering what relaxation is 

——————————————-------------------------------------------

The day after the world doesn’t end, Hermann brings Newt breakfast in bed.

Honestly, it surprises Newt more than the whole world not ending thing. Up until the previous evening, after all, Newt was pretty damn sure the guy absolutely hated him, and that if Hermann was gonna do something as out of character as bringing him breakfast, it surely meant he’d spat in it first. Or maybe poisoned it. If hated isn’t the right word, Newt would say Hermann at the very least barely tolerated. And then the whole sharing the neural load thing happened. And, after that, hugging, not once, but twice, and then falling asleep in bed together. And now Hermann’s perched on the edge of his bed (which they shared while they slept) and handing him a plate.

“You had quite the busy day yesterday,” Hermann says kindly. Hermann has never spoken to Newt kindly before. Atop the plate are two pieces of toast, a soft-boiled egg, and a mug of coffee. The coffee and toast (Newt notices) are exactly the shade he prefers. He wonders if Hermann picked up on it before or after the whole mind-melding thing. Before wouldn’t surprise him—Hermann has always been weird about noticing details like that. The egg, however, is something purely Hermann in taste. “I imagine you could use a nice spot of breakfast,” he adds.

Newt shoves his glasses on and blinks at Hermann groggily. He struggles to sit up, partially tangled in his sheets, and then takes the plate. A little bit of coffee sloshes down onto one of the slices of toast. “Are you wearing my sweatshirt?” he says.

Hermann smiles and looks down at the ragged old MIT sweatshirt he’s tossed on. He may have a few inches on Newt, but he’s still one skinny motherfucker, and it hangs almost comically off his frame. “I am,” he says. “I poked around in your closet, I hope you don’t mind. My clothing was in a rather sorry state.”

Sorry state is an understatement for both of them. Newt’s surprised they haven’t been formally ordered to burn the shit they wore to the bone slums yet. Blood, dirt, and kaiju guts aside, Newt’s, at least, reeks to high heaven with sweat. “No worries,” Newt says. He picks up the coffee and blows on it. He wonders where Hermann got coffee that smells this good. It’s been hard to find anything decent and non-instant on the base these days, and (thanks to limited rations) chain shops like Starbucks cost an arm and a leg for even a small. He also wonders what people thought when they saw Hermann strutting around the base with bedhead in a sweatshirt that obviously wasn’t his. Newt almost wants to blush on his behalf. Scandalous.

Before Newt can so much as take a sip of the coffee, Hermann is suddenly unbuckling and shucking off his grey slacks. “Dude!” Newt yelps, flushing bright red to the tips of his ears. Hermann blinks at him innocently. “What are you doing?”

It’s not so much that Newt is upset as it is that it’s so wildly out of character for Hermann that he feels he owes it to Hermann to act at least moderately scandalized. In all his years of knowing and working alongside Hermann, he’s never so much as seen Hermann’s bare wrist before. Now he’s in Newt’s goddamn bed flashing calves, and thighs, and neatly-pressed little white briefs… Hermann rolls his eyes and tosses the slacks (unfolded!) onto Newt’s desk chair. “Making myself comfortable,” he says. “Would you like me to stop?”

Does Hermann iron his underwear? It would be at odds with the rest of his clothing if he did, which is usually in various stages of frumpy to outright wrinkled, but Newt can’t think of how else it would look like that. He wonders if Hermann’s stitched his name on the inner waistband. It seems like the kind of thing Hermann would do. Newt suddenly realizes he’s been staring at Hermann’s briefs (and, worse still, considering how cute Hermann looks in just them and Newt’s sweatshirt) for an uncomfortably long time, so he quickly shakes his head and drags his eyes to Hermann’s face. One of Hermann’s eyebrows is quirked up. Newt hasn’t been subtle. “No,” he says. He clears his throat. “No, dude, you’re—all good.”

He chokes down a too-hot sip of coffee to have something to do with his mouth.

Hermann smirks.

The bedcovers are drawn back. Hermann slips under them and drapes an arm across Newt’s chest, his hand curling protectively over Newt’s hip. With his other hand he snags Newt’s coffee from his grasp and takes a sip. Newt watches his jaw and throat work as he swallows it, a funny feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach. The mug is handed back over, Hermann’s fingers brushing against Newt’s, which make Newt feel even funnier. “Newton,” Hermann declares. “I think we ought to have sex.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Can I finish my breakfast first?”

“Certainly,” Hermann says.

Newt’s heart pounds as he spreads a little packet of margarine across one of the pieces of toast; he can feel Hermann’s eyes on him, never straying once. Hermann’s hand draws little circles on his hip. Newt drops his toast twice to the plate before he can successfully take a bite, and even when he does, he doesn’t taste it. Hermann’s fingers dip under the hem of his t-shirt. Newt swallows his toast. “Why?” he says.

Apparently it’s the right question. Hermann nods, like he’s pleased Newt has asked. Like they’re talking theories or something. “I came to the conclusion while I fetching your coffee,” Hermann says. “It occurred to me that I wouldn’t have gotten up at seven in the morning to get coffee for just anyone. Then, of course, there is the whole drifting business—”

“You realized you wouldn’t have done that for just anyone too, huh?” Newt says with a smile. Hermann’s hand on his hip stills, and his cheeks go pink. Newt’s relieved to have gotten some ground back here. “Hermann, that’s sooo romantic.”

“The world was at stake,” Hermann sniffs.

“It’s okay,” Newt says. “I won’t tell anyone the great Dr. Gottlieb has feelings. So, what, you realized you have a big ole crush on me?”

Hermann takes the unfinished piece of toast from him and sets it down on his plate. He pulls Newt’s glasses off, kisses him soundly, and then puts Newt’s glasses back on. His mouth tastes like toothpaste. “On the contrary, I’ve always suspected it,” he says. “It’s just that now I have the time to confirm it.” He reaches up and strokes at Newt’s hair. “We have the time for lots of things, now, Newton. Whatever we’d like.”

Newt finishes off his coffee quickly, not even caring when he burns his tongue, and then tosses the remainder of his breakfast to the floor. His egg spills onto the massacred skinny corduroys he wore yesterday. Whatever, Newt’s burning them anyway. “God, get overhere already, man,” he says, tugging at Hermann’s borrowed sweatshirt. He needs to help Hermann confirm his crush or whatever, pronto.

--

It’s a few days before Newt and Hermann finally drag themselves out of bed and to the lab to tackle what little work remains for them to do—cataloguing what are apparently the last kaiju samples known to man (Newt), recording and backing up their drift data (Newt’s solo drift, and then their joint data), drawing some random scribbles on the board and pretending they’re important calculations about the possibility of the Breach reopening (Hermann. Okay, whatever, maybe they are important). Unfortunately, the delay isn’t for any sexy reasons, as much as Newt would’ve liked it to have been. The events of the last day of the war caught up with them pretty quickly after that morning in Newt’s bed, and they mostly just slept, ordered out dinner, popped ibuprofen for their various aches, and avoided medical at all costs. (Rumor had it the medical staff on base were looking for him and Hermann so they could do some brain scans. Apparently drifting with a kaiju brain is potentially dangerous, who knew.)

A rancid smell washes over them the second they push the heavy lab doors open, and Newt spots several hunks of kaiju organs rotting away on his workbench. Hermann clamps a hand to his mouth. “Oops,” Newt says, turning to Hermann sheepishly. He can’t help but cower as he does. He and Hermann got along swimmingly the past couple days—it’ll be sad to see all that hard work go down the drain over this. “Guess I forgot to clean up the other day. In my defense—we were kind of busy.”

But Hermann doesn’t snap at Newt, or thump his cane on the ground, or call Newt an idiot, or even look annoyed; he lowers his hand from his mouth and laughs. Albeit a terse laugh, but still. Newt gapes at him. “We were rather busy,” Hermann concedes. “So long as you clean it up in the next ten minutes, I—what, Newton?”

“Nothing,” Newt says, quickly. “I’m gonna—um—deal with it now.”

Hermann disappears from the lab while Newt is digging around in the storage closet for extra heavy-duty trash bags. When he comes back an hour later, he’s holding a cardboard tray of small plastic cups, and Newt has just hefted his last spoiled sample into the lab’s airtight biohazard bin (a bit mournfully, if he’s being honest, since he’s sure there’s still more to learn about the kaiju from them). Newt squints at the cups in the tray while he rips his messy disposable work gloves off. “What’s that?” he says.

“Iced coffee,” Hermann declares.

The gloves slap, wetly, into the biohazard bin, and Newt lets out a low whistle. “Dude. No way. From where?” He’s not sure when he gave off the impression that the way to his heart was good coffee, but maybe it’s true. Then again, Hermann could probably win him over with a cup of lukewarm tap water. Not because Newt is desperate or anything. He just really likes Hermann.

“A little shop a bit away from the base,” Hermann says. “I took the bus.” He draws back his chair and sits down with a soft sigh, setting his cane against his desk. Then he draws out a small brown paper bag from his parka pocket. He tosses it to Newt; Newt catches it with one hand. “They had these funny little cakes on sticks. I thought you might like one.”

“Cake pops?” Newt says.

“I presume,” Hermann says. While Newt inhales the little chocolate-dipped cake pop (which is so good, oh my God, Newt hasn’t had dessert that didn’t come from a vending machine in plastic shrink wrap in years), Hermann adds, “I wasn’t sure what sort of iced coffee you liked, so I made sure to get a variety.”

“Sick,” Newt says, spewing crumbs on his shirt. “Um. But, like, why though?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermann says. “I suppose I wanted to do something kind for you.” He carefully slides a straw out of its paper wrappings and pokes it into the lid of one of the coffees. Once he crumples up the wrapper and tosses It into his train bin, he grips his cane, and uses the handle to nudge Newt’s desk chair towards him. “You worked awfully hard cleaning the laboratory.”

Newt preens a little, even as he privately wonders why Hermann’s acting so weird. Well, nice. But nice is weird for Hermann, so they’re basically the same thing. Is this part of his whole deciding whether or not he digs Newt thing? Newt just assumed the awesome morning they spent together would be proof enough of that. Then again, Hermann’s pretty thorough. “I guess,” Newt says. “It was kind of my mess, though.”

Hermann pats at the empty chair with a smile. Hermann’s smiles are so rare—crooked, and stupid cute—that Newt’s heart gives a painful little twist at the sight of it, and he realizes he doesn’t actually give a shit about why Hermann’s being all weird, actually. “You’ve earned a break,” Hermann says. “Besides, I’d like to spend time with you.”

Newt’s too stunned to argue with that one. When he sits down, Hermann inches their chairs together until their knees are touching.

--

They don’t necessarily fall back into their usual habits by the next week, but the better ones they’ve picked up (being a little kinder to each other, a little more patient, a little more respectful, and also the fact that Hermann can’t seem to stop touching Newt) all but fall into the background as Newt throws himself into his work with renewed determination. Unfortunately, his desire to get it all done as soon as fucking possible speaks less to his awesome work ethic, and more to the fact that he’s just not sure what else to do with himself now, and he likes that work gives him the excuse to not think about it. Hermann said they have all the time to do whatever they like now. Well, Newt likes working. He knows working. Relaxation is a foreign concept to him, and it was a foreign concept to Hermann up until recently. While Newt is toiling away over his decaying kaiju samples in the lab, Hermann is out—

“Where?” Newt says.

Hermann gives Newt the most serene smile Newt’s ever seen cross his face. “I took a bath,” he says. “It was very nice. I bought some nice soaps, and lit some candles, and looked online to see how to do one of those mud masks. It was very relaxing. You ought to try it.”

“Try bathing?” Newt says.

“Yes. Well, no. I mean taking a bath. Is there something you’re not understanding?”

Newt tries to imagine Hermann with a mud mask on his face and cucumbers over his eyes and fails miserably. Hermann hates messes. He would never stand for mud, let alone on his skin. Where’d he even find a bathtub? Did he break into the rangers’ locker room again? Aren't candles banned on base for being a fire hazard, anyway? “Yeah,” Newt says. “Pretty much all of it.”

Hermann shakes his head with a snort, and Newt catches a whiff of something floral and fragrant—his fancy new soap or oil, he guesses. “I’m not surprised. You know, Newton, you are awfully tense.”

Hearing that from Hermann of all people, the king of having-a-massive-stick-up-your-ass, is probably the funniest thing that’s ever happened to Newt. He laughs out loud and plunges a bare hand into his kaiju sample with a gross squelching noise. “Sure, dude.”

He’s almost too engrossed in his sample to feel Hermann sidling up behind him and setting a hand at his waist. He definitely feels Hermann nose a kiss behind his ear, though, and the hot flush that spreads down across his neck from it. Newt’s hand goes sweaty around his scalpel. One thing he definitely wasn’t expecting from a post-no-apocalypse Hermann is how free he is with affection in any and all forms. “Give it a rest, love,” Hermann murmurs. He nudges at the heel of Newt’s boot with the end of his cane. Love? “Why don’t we head back to my quarters and watch a film? You can pick.”

“But.” Newt fidgets. “I have—my sample—”

Another little kiss. The soapy-oil smell is stronger now. Newt thinks it might be lavender. He wonders if the mud mask left Hermann’s skin all soft. “It won’t be going anywhere, Newton.”

Newt sets down his scalpel.

When they they pass by a group of LOCCENT staff in the hallway, Newt makes to drop Hermann’s hand (which Hermann had laced together with his own before they left the lab), but Hermann holds fast, maybe even faster than before, and looks at him with his stupidly sweet set of big eyes. Newt waits until they round the corner to say anything. “Sorry,” he says, lamely. “Um. I thought—you wouldn’t want—” Hermann continues to stare at him. His iris is still ringed red like Newt’s. “I just mean I know you’re weird about stuff like that. Public stuff.” Hermann has been a closed and tightly-bound book for as long as Newt’s known him; he can’t imagine that would suddenly change and he would start broadcasting his emotions far and wide in the course of a week just because he’s a little less stressed.

Or, you know. Maybe Newt’s totally wrong on this. “Ah,” Hermann says. He nods, very seriously. “Yes. I have been considering that as well. I see no reason to hide recent developments in our relationship.” He squeezes Newt’s hand. "In fact, I see no reason to not be quite, er, proud of them. You’re quite the catch.”

Newt remembers the stolen sweatshirt. Maybe Hermann wearing it out to get them breakfast was more calculated than he realized. “So if I made out with you against the wall right now you wouldn’t be mad?” Newt says.

“Well,” Hermann says, inclining his head to his door, "seeing as my quarters are right there, it seems a rather unnecessary inconvenience.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Newt smiles as Hermann leads him in. “Can I really pick the movie?”

“Within reason.”

[allmight-pisskink]

i’ve been tagged in a lot of picrews recently but alas they did not work for me so i thought fugg it i’ll just start my own tag game with one that does! haven’t seen this picrew going around yet and it is AMAZING!!!! super inclusive!! tons of options!! THEY HAVE AN ACNE/SKIN IRRITATION OPTION Y’ALL!!!!!!!!! so have at it and tag ya friends!!!

tagging: @hahbastard @rock-n-roll-lee @alyssah430 @mangekyhoes @kakashishomegirl @all-seeingbi @quilfish-swan @moderately-ok-trash-bin @imuser304 @pinepickled @royaltastic @altogetherweathered @delicate-banana-youth @asa-kujaku @konann

this is @youth-no-jutsu btw :) in case any of y’all don’t recognize me. this is my main blog.

[ask-de-writer]

An excerpt from GONE TO SEA, a novel in progress

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the World of Sea

CHILDREN’S PLAY

An excerpt from GONE TO SEA, a novel in progress

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

3688 words in this excerpt

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All  rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or  to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express  written consent of the author.

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What Mecat told Kurin was basically true.  The fundamental discoveries of glue in Strong Skin was made by children wanting to make toys.  They even made some boats and some ships.  Over time, their arts got lost and Mecat had to show the scattered men on Sea how to do again what the children had learned.

The original colonists to Sea were all picked for being, among other criteria, quite bright.  Somehow, nobody paid attention to the fact that many bright people have bright children too.

When Adults get too busy, they often put the concerns of children last.  In an environment like Sea, that may be a mistake of sorts . . .

Chapter 04. Children at Play

As is the case everywhere that there are children, they play.  In some of their playing, they imitate their elders.  They also do another thing that children have done since the dawn of time.  Because the only toys that the adults thought to bring or make were educational, they raided the trash for fun things to play with.

Cora Halyn dug the pan out of the waste stream dumpster.  Grinning, she held it up for the others to see.  “What good is that?” asked Mikal Novotnoy.

Cora grinned some more and threw out several used twenty centimeter air filter disks made from the dried skin of the Strong's shark.  She said happily, “I was there when the cooks made this mess out of some Moreson's eels.  They tried to soak it out, scrape it and even chip it loose.  Since it melted once, I don't know why they didn't try to melt it again.  If it will melt, we can squish it into these disks and make Frisbees!”

Jason Torres asked her, “Did they chuck out any of the Shark's teeth or bones?”

Cora promptly dove back into the dumpster.  The sound of things shifting and thumping about followed.  Several large pieces of bone and some ten to fourteen centimeter long razor sharp and naturally serrated teeth cascaded out of the trash bin.  Cora vaulted out after them.

“Why did you want the teeth and bones, Jase?” she asked curiously.

Jason cut a finger as he gathered up the teeth and bones that Cora dug out for him.  He paused long enough to suck the cut a moment before commenting, “Those teeth are sharp!  I thought that it might be fun to try doing some scrimshaw with them.  Maybe even make my dad a present that he can use, like a paperweight or something.”

The children gathered up their booty of trash and went to the recycle center.  Mister Makle looked over what the children wanted and asked, “What do you want with the pan?  The rest is no problem but that pan is aluminum.  We can remelt it and make new things from it.”

Cora grinned and pointed out, “True, but we already get all of the new aluminum that we want by processing seawater.  What we really want is the goo in the pan.  I think that we can melt it and work it into the used filter disks.  If I am right we can make Frisbees out of them! Those eels are pretty common so we can make lots of toys like that if it works.”

Shrugging and smiling, Mister Makle signed a release for the children's salvage and said, “Be sure to let me know if that trick works!  I'd like a Frisbee too!”

The next day, Cora and the rest of her crowd brought Mister Makle a home-made Frisbee.

Cora proudly explained, “The goo by itself was way too brittle when it hardened in the disks.  We fixed that by mixing in some oil that we got by rendering the waxy stuff.  Now it is strong and somewhat flexible.  Here, try it!”  She expertly flipped the disk to him.

Mister Makle caught the disk with a delighted smile and did try it.  He flexed it some and then tossed the disk so that it bounced off a wall and examined it again.  He smiled even more as he said, “Keep me and the rest of the waste management and maintenance team in Frisbees and you can have anything that you want from the trash if it isn't dangerous.  OK?”

Jason grinned back and said, “Sounds easy enough.  There's lots of those used filter disks.  We have another idea that you might like.”

Interested, Mister Makle asked, “What is that?”

Seeing that there was an adult who wasn't too busy to pay attention, the assorted children of Cora's crowd gathered around and said, “Fishing! When we saw how tough that Strong's skin and eel goo is, we made a pole out of some of it.”

Mikal added, “We figured out that if you cut a big mussel loose and just set it in some seawater, it will put out the attachment foot to start making new holdfast strands.  We put a little chunk of bone near where the foot comes out.  As soon as it stuck the holdfast thread to the bone, we started to pull real gently.  We got over five meters of line from it.”

Mister Makle said, “I'd like to see that.  What are you going to use for a hook?”

Cora said, “We are going to try several things to see what works best. The dense bone from the Strong's shark will be the base for most of them.  A few will be carved out of shell from the mussels.  Got a piece of paper?  Mala'klea will sketch them up for you.  Her folks were in the Polynesian Back to the Ocean movement.  She's learned all sorts of neat stuff from them.”

Black haired little Mala'klea silently took a pen and began sketching quickly.  It only took a few moments for her to hand Mister Makle the paper with a half dozen different hook designs on it, complete with notes about materials and the glue applications where necessary.

While she was sketching Mister Makle asked Cora, “Doesn't she talk?”

Cora gave a half grin and replied, “Yes she does, when she has something to say.  It is worth listening when she does speak because it is always good.”

Mala'klea did suddenly look up at Cora with a smile and said, “We can overlap disks to make laminated planks.  We could make a sailing canoe from them.”  She fell silent again and took another sheet of paper.  

Her nearly flying pen sketched rapidly.  A simple dory built design for a long, deep keeled and moderately wide canoe-like boat took shape.  It had a large outrigger or secondary hull and a deck on struts between the main hull and the smaller one.

Mister Makle looked at the paper and commented, “Sweet design.  This is all done with equal angles for the ribs.  That will make the fabrication easy.  You kids will need a formal adult supervisor for a project this big.  How long do you actually plan to make it?”

Cora grinned in relief that their idea wasn't just being blown off by a man whose department was critical to building it.  She replied, “We thought that about twenty meters should make it safe from Strong's sharks and most of the other big fish that we know of.”

Mister Makle studied the drawing and sections seriously for a moment and said, “That will be way too large to manage easily with paddles. Will it have a sail?”

Cora agreed, “It will have two masts and three sails.  Mala'klea has that all figured out.  Her mom was the captain of the Mona Loa.  It was a sailing ship of the Polynesian Back to the Ocean Movement.”

Mister Makle grinned widely and said, “You do know that this boat is as big as the two ships that the station engineers are planning to build, don't you?”

“Sure we do,” Cora replied confidently.  “Size is a relative thing. Theirs will be wider and deeper in the hull and have two masts. Those round ships will be able to carry a lot more than our voyaging canoes and will have a longer range.  We figure that these will be way faster, though.”

Mister Makle asked, “Would you be willing to practice on a smaller boat or two using the same principles, just to test your ideas before you commit to building the big one?

“I know that the maintenance crew would be willing to do the supervision in their off time.  They want a chance to play about with boat building but the shipyard is being a real prat about it ever since Mister Angerson got put in charge.  This will be a big job because of all of the Moreson's eels that you will have to catch.  I can set the recycle folks to salvaging all of the filters that come through.”

Cora got a faraway look and then suggested, “That would be great.  We could use a test boat to catch the eels that we will need.  If everything works as well as it should, we could even help the maintenance team to make some boats for their own use.  

“I think that Pele Barant would be our best senior supervisor.  Not only is she Mala'klea's mom, she knows all about primitive tools and things because she was in the Polynesian Back to the Ocean movement. She's also a top flight mechanical engineer.”

Mister Makle promptly placed a call through his computer.  “Mrs. Barant, this is Mister Makle down in the Waste Management office.  Your daughter and some other children are down here.

“What? No.  There is nothing wrong.  In fact, I think that they want to do something very right.  It will need a senior supervisor who understands so-called primitive tools and materials.

“They told me that you were in the Polynesian Back to the Ocean movement on Earth and that you might make a good person to supervise their work. Oh, did I forget to say what it was?  They want to make a surprisingly large sailing canoe based on a Polynesian voyaging canoe.

“Yes, I thought that you might like to see how they plan to do it and the materials that they have found.  Recycle has turned up a few other native things that might be useful in the project as well.

“So, we will see you in a few minutes?  Excellent!  We will be waiting.”

He turned back to the children and told Mala'klea, “That really got your mother's attention.  Do you kids know that this is the first proposed project to use only things and materials from Sea?”

Cora grinned and held up one of the flying disks.  “Not quite.  We made these first.  To do them right we had to make a knife that would cut that Strong's shark skin.  It is really tough stuff.

“Jason, do you have those knives that you and Mala'klea made?  If you have them handy, we could show them to Mrs. Barant.  Mister Makle might like to see them, too.”

Mister Makle leaned back in his office chair and said, “I would like to see them.  My department got stuck with making those filter disks and you would not believe how fast that skin will dull a knife.  Thing is, Pele is on her way down.  Save the knives and show them to both of us at once.  She is the expert on things like this.”

Several of the maintenance crew came into the office.  One of the women exclaimed, “Boss!  How did you get Frisbees?  I applied to engineering to make us some for recreation and they turned their noses up at the job.  Said that they had more important tasks than toys!”

Mister Makle grinned and tousled Cora's hair as he replied, “They turned me down too, Molly.  The kids here made these out of old air filter disks and some sort of glue that they made out of Moreson's eels.  They work really great. Here, Molly, catch!”  He flipped a disk at the woman who had spoken.

Startled, Molly reflexively caught the disk.  She paused long enough to examine the disk carefully.  She said quietly, “This looks like it was press molded.  How did you guys make it?”

Cora smiled in delight at the recognition of their work and replied, “We made one that worked really well.  We used it to make a form that we do press them into.  All that we need to do is wax the form and our hands.  Then we work the glue into the disk and push it tightly into the form by hand.  It needs about twenty minutes to set up and then we can pop it out and make another.  That's about all that there is to it.”

Molly happily flipped the disk to another of her crew, even though the range was short.  It never got to him.  A small Black haired woman dived in from the door and caught the disk before he had a chance at it.  She bounced energetically off one of the office walls and stood, examining the disk intently.  She flexed it and said, “Here, Klea! Catch!”

The disk sailed across to little Mala'klea who did catch it expertly. Beaming, she said, “Thanks, Mom!  This one is for Molly and her team.  We have more and can make them for anyone else that wants one!”

Mister Makle observed, “That is more than I have heard you say even when you were drawing up the boat plan.”

Mala'klea, cringing like she expected to be hit, looked about fearfully, and went silent.  Pele crouched beside her daughter and pulled her into a hug.  Mala'klea hugged back fiercely, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

Pele spared a look for the shocked Recycle and Maintenance people in the big office.  Still holding her daughter, she told them, “Klea was one of the children that Mister Angerson was caught beating for refusing to pray to his God during their schooling time.  Instead of teaching them math, he was trying to force the children to follow him in his suicidal mania that he calls a religion.

“He was particularly brutal to those kids that he called pagans.  Since my little Klea follows our family's polytheistic beliefs, he beat her the worst of all.  The station's doctors found two cracked ribs and a hairline fracture of the right radius.

“Mala'klea refused to give in to his assault but he did manage break her trust in most people.

“Mister Angerson has been formally required to surrender his teaching duties and stay away from the children.  He has been forbidden to ever touch or speak to any of them.  His own wife and two children moved into our apartment to get away from him.  Trisha has filed with the station's Executive Committee for a divorce.”

One of the men from Molly's Maintenance crew said, “I know about the schooling problem.  I was on the jury.  What Angerson did sickened us all.  He claimed that God Himself ordered him to discipline the children for their unbelief and that God's orders override the Colonial Charter.  We all disagreed.  The verdict was unanimous.”

Molly volunteered, “That idiot Marcus cornered me once and tried to convince me that we are doomed.  God sent us all here to die by slow starvation for our sins.  Seems that we are all to be the Sacrifice For The New Covenant to preserve all of  mankind's colonies in space.

“He seems to forget that both the thymine and lysine that are our last real stumbling blocks have been spotted from orbit, even if they haven't been isolated to any particular organism yet.  In the meantime, the plants and animals that we brought along are filling the gap.  We will find what we need someday, probably soon.”

Pele nodded to Molly then gave her daughter another hug and asked her, “Do you have any sort of plan or working drawings for the boat that Mister Makle mentioned?  What are you thinking of making it out of?”

Everyone watched silently as Mala'klea went fearfully to Mister Makle's desk and, darting glances all about, brought her mother the pages of sketches.  She took one of the flying disks from Cora and wordlessly handed it to her mother as well.  

Pele's eyes lit up and she sat cross-legged in front of Mala'klea and patted her lap.  Looking meaningfully about at the other adults for silence, Pele said, “This is a wonderful start, Klea.  Please tell me about it.”

Mala'klea began almost inaudibly, “We can use old filter disks and rectangles to make the planks.  See, Mother?  The big side planks are the same width all along their length.  By keeping the angles of the side to bottom planks the same, it is just a long four plank dory, the same way that the old Polynesian voyaging ships were built.”

Mother gave daughter a quick hug and prodded, “How will you make the planks out of the smaller pieces, Dear?”

Mala'klea answered more confidently, “To make the flying disks we had to make a glue out of Moreson's eels.  Because of the messy way that they come apart when we heat them, we call them Goo fish.  We had to try several ways to get the glue right.  We had some of the disks stick together by accident.  That gave me the idea for laminating the parts.”

Pele nodded in happy seeming approval.  “Very observant, Klea.  How will you hold the planks and ribs together?”

The other children of Cora's Crowd almost bit their lips to keep quiet.  Cora stopped one of Molly's crew from speaking by whispering, “We have seen this before.  This is how Pele helps Mala'klea to stop being scared.  Let Klea answer for now.”

The man nodded understanding and held his tongue.

Mala'klea almost eagerly told her mother, “We can get strings from the mussels that grow almost everywhere on the Station's docks.  Cora figured out the glue and filter thing but it was Jason who thought of the string.  It was Matty that thought of making a boat.  I put their ideas together.

“We can use string that we make from the mussel threads to tie the parts together.  Once we are ready, we can laminate more skin over the joints to waterproof them.  We can lock the ribs into place the same way.  It is only a little different from the way that you were putting together the latest big Polynesian ship that you and your friends were building back on Earth.”

Pele grinned at her daughter, and looking her in the eye, pointed out, “Those planks and parts will need to be trimmed to shape, and many holes drilled in them to tie them together.  How will you manage that?”

By now, Mala'klea was answering eagerly and openly again.  “Jason and I made some knives and other tools out of Strong's shark teeth!  Jason brought them down here to show to Mr. Makle.  We can cut and trim the glued skin with them.  We made an awl that can make the holes.  When you were making that big canoe, you had a bow drill thing to make the holes but I couldn't remember how to make one.”

Jason silently handed a roll-up of knives and other tools to Mala'klea who unrolled it to show her mother.  Pele took the time to examine each knife and tool carefully.  She thoughtfully tested edges and checked the orientation of the natural serrations in the fangs that the knife and tool edges and points were made of.  One tool was made from a piece of flat bone with fairly coarse teeth carved into it for spreading and forcing glue into the skin.  The tool had the sheen of a waxy coating worked into the bone.  They all had handles formed of many layers of the skin and glue.  Each handle was carefully formed to fit the hands of the children.  Pele even examined the leather of the roll-up.

Nodding with a smile as she felt the softness of the leather, Pele asked Mala'klea, “Is this made out of some of the Strong's skin with your oil from the Goo fish worked in to soften it?”

Mala'klea smiled at her mother and said, “Yes, mother.  Mikal Novotnoy thought of doing that.  We all worked on different parts of it.  It is stitched with the mussel string.  We needed something that would keep the tools sharp and save us from getting cut on them.”

Pele gave Mala'klea another hug and stood up, holding the child's hand.  She said, “This is a really well thought out project, Klea.  I especially like the way that you gave credit for ideas to the others. I think that this ship will make a great project.  

“It will need you children to do a lot of math to figure out the details. You will need good language skills to present what you figure out to the rest.  We can use this project for a big part of you kid's schooling.  It will make a perfect demonstration of the relationship between what you are taught in class and the real world.  It will also be more fun than any lessons should be.”

Mr. Makle thoughtfully consulted his computer, accessing the Public Announcements.  Looking up he said, “You kids don't need to worry about Mr. Angerson any more.  He is forbidden to even come near to any of you, including his own family or your projects.  If he tries, we can lock him up.  The Executive Order implementing the jury verdict of child abuse was posted about four days ago.”

Pele looked over at Mr. Makle and asked him, “How can we keep him away from this project?  It will need a lot of room to build it and, because of their time in the classrooms, the kids won't be able to work on it all of the day.”

Mr. Makle looked cheerfully at the children of Cora's Crowd and said, “Maintenance will contribute building space for it down on Maintenance Dock C.  Its access ways all lock.  As soon as you are ready for the actual building to begin, let me know and I will formally reserve it for you.  Due to the suspicion of sabotage to the Reverse Osmosis Desalination plant, we have been given the authority to forbid access to ANY unauthorized personnel.  We can arrest trespassers if necessary.  C Dock is already equipped with surveillance cameras and alarms.

“We installed the locks, alarms and cameras because we are storing those new fiberglass boats that you have been making for us down there.  If we do have a saboteur, those boats could become a prime target.”

The End of Chapter 4

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the World of Sea

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As a neighborhood family owned dumpster rental company we can service our dumpsters more often and sooner than the big Dumpster Service companies. We take delight in the truth that we are able to service our Dumpster prospects more effectively and extra typically than a larger Dumpster company. When you call, you're going to get a live particular person moderately than an automatic system.

We do our best possible to service our Dumpster Rental clients same day and next day. If you call us earlier than 11am we can often get out to your job website the same day, or switch out full dumpsters for an new empty dumpster. If we can't get to you on the day that you simply name we are going to service you the very subsequent day. Simply give us a name and we may also help you schedule service at a time that is most handy for you.

Our 15 yard dumpsters are nice For Small Jobs, this dumpster is Roughly three-4 Choose up truck loads, Giant enough for a small clean up, light demolition, development particles or storage clean out but not sufficiently big for a transforming or roofing job. Ok, for residential or business use.

Our 20 Yard Dumpsters are Our MOST standard measurement, Sufficiently big to handle most reworking, roofing, and yard clear up projects. Roughly 5-7  decide up truck loads. Great for construction,  mild demolition, a full garage clean out, giant junk elimination or foreclosure clear out. Our most popular Dumpster Size. Okay for residential or business use.

Our 30 yard dumpsters are great for contractors doing a number of room remodels, convenient for large scale clean-outs, and may simply accommodate demolition and Junk Removal Companies development debris. Our Dumpster Leases make any job simple and convenient. Roughly 7-9 pick up truck loads. Greatest for Commercial use.

Need Junk elimination in Brandon?  We can help you with that too! Rent a dumpster and cargo up your Junk in considered one of our 20 yard containers, once its full we are going to haul it away. You don't have to worry about hidden fees, our rates include, delivery, pick up and dumping charges up to 6,000 lbs. All you want is just a little elbow grease and assist from your pals and your junk will disappear quickly and easily with a Junk removing, Dumpster Rental Brandon. We additionally service Tampa, Riverview and Surrounding areas.

[creamsodaprince]

@moderately-ok-trash-bin

He passed with flying colors. They couldnt fail him. He's babie.

[charco-de-lluvia]

Wonderful @kuuberrykyu tagged me, so it's time to do this!

Rules: Bold what applies to you

APPEARANCE:

I’m over 5’5” // I wear glasses/contacts // I have blonde hair // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // I have one or more piercings // I have at least one tattoo // I have blue eyes // I have dyed or highlighted my hair // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don’t often smile // I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards

HOBBIES AND TALENTS:

I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic // I know more than one language // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe // I know how to swim // I enjoy writing // I can do origami // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends // I travel during school or work breaks // I can do a handstand

RELATIONSHIPS:

I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year // I have a crush //I have a best friend I have known for ten years // my parents are together // I have dated my best friend // I am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // I have had a long distance relationship // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends // I have made an online friend // I met up with someone I have met online

AESTHETICS:

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell  // I have watched the sun rise // I enjoy rainy days // I have slept under the stars // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like // I listen to music to fall asleep // I enjoy thunderstorms  // I enjoy cloud watching // I have attended a bonfire // I pay close attention to colors // I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favorite season

MISCELLANEOUS:

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend // I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food // I can drive a stick-shift // I believe in true love// I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least three dogs

I tag @rookgirl97 , @canira , @spookymyst , @baileybooradly , @areggo , @shahdaryu , @onyon-trash and @moderately-ok-trash-bin

[godly-feh-edits]

If it’s not too much trouble, could I ask for Fairy/crit (if possible. Attack art works fine otherwise) Mathilda, fairy Leon and Fairy/attack Hilda? And if it isn’t too awkward to do, could you make the wings bigger? Thanks in advance :)

(Mod Toto) I hope you meant normal Leon :,3

Also the problem with the wings is that they’re hollow inside (because Peony covers them) so they can’t be too big :,c

[cytharat]

Tagged by: @guardiansinferno thanks bb ♥ ♥ ♥

Tagging: @hoiist @s0tc @uldren-sov and anyone else who wants to do this, consider yourself tagged!

— Ira Hayes: Anthem.

$ Financial : wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty (depends on where you draw the lines I guess. He's not starving anymore and has just about enough money to maintain his javelin, but the budget still doesn’t leave much room for luxuries)

✚ Medical : fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable

✪ Class or Caste : upper / middle / working / street trash / slave / unsure

✔ Education : qualified / unqualified / studying (for a Freelancer)

✖ Criminal Record : yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children : had a child or children / has no children / wants children (eventually) / can’t have children

◑ Relationship with Family : close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased

◔ Affiliation : orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s) / not applicable / raised by hired help

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

♦ extroverted / introverted / in between

♦ dis-organised / organised / in between

♦ close minded / open-minded / in between

♦ calm / anxious / in between

♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between

♦ cautious / reckless / in between

♦ patient / impatient / in between

♦ outspoken / reserved / in between

♦ leader / follower / in between

♦ empathetic / unempathetic / in between

♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between

♦ traditional / modern / in between

♦ hard-working / lazy / in between

♦ cultured / uncultured  / in between

♦ loyal / disloyal / loyal unless their trust is betrayed

♦ faithful / unfaithful / in between

[ BELIEFS ]

★ Faith : monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic

☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✮ Belief in an Afterlife : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✯ Belief in Reincarnation : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

❃ Belief in Aliens : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✧ Religious : orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious

❀ Philosophical : yes / no / kinda sometimes? (usually when alcohol is involved)

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality : heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual / queer / undecided

❥ Sex : sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless

♥ Romance : romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious

❣ Sexually : adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious

⚧ Potential Sexual Partners : male / female / agender / other / none / idk

⚧ Potential Romantic Partners : male / female / agender / other / none / idk

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

≡ Literacy Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✍ Artistic Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✂ Technical Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol : never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / Alcoholic

☁ Smoking : trying to quit / quit / never / trying it / rarely / sometimes / frequently / Chain-smoker

✿ Recreational Drugs : never / quit / tried it / rarely / sometimes / frequently / addict

✌ Medicinal Drugs : never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently / to excess

☻ Unhealthy Food : never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater (look if you find it in the bins behind the bar it may not be healthy but it’s free ok)

$ Splurge Spending : never / rarely / sometimes / frequently (can’t spend what you don’t have but shapers help him once he does have a few coins to his name)

♣ Gambling : never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler (he tries not to but as soon as he does he may or may not have a problem)

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

req’d by @moderately-ok-trash-bin

excellent. you’ll find your next instructions under the mat in location 7