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ohtheseboysilove · 6 years ago

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Sexy panties to dirty nappies II/? [ Ben Hardy x F!Reader ]

Words : 3,300 K +

Warnings : language, pregnancy, fluff, nervous futur parents, cute dog

Summary : Reader is eight months pregnant. The only problem ? She just find out. Yep, pregancy denial. Now they only got a month to be ready for the baby. Ready…steady…go !

Note : here is part 2 ! I’m really having fun with this cute fic, reader and ben start to realise that the baby is coming really soon, a bit of panick and fluff moments

Masterlist & Requests

@/ none of these gifs are mine xx

The first next three days you and Ben stayed at home. You didn’t do a lot, couldn’t sleep or thought about something else than the elephant in the room. You were on maternity leave, yeah your boss was for the least surprised. Ben had few weeks of break but he called his agent and announced the...unexpected new. At first he thought he was doing that to earn few more weeks for sunny holidays but when the blond almost had an panick attack during the phone call he believed him. His planning was lighter than before, he will not have new castings but he still did have obligations, pregnancy surprise or not. But it could be worse.

You spent these days eating and watching t.v, kicking Ben’s ass at video games, pretending nothing was going on in your belly. But on the fourth day you couldn’t ignore it, you were, to say at least, plump.

“Are you sure you not excepting twins (Y/N) ?” Ben was sitting next to you in bed, looking terrified by your swollen tummy. You did change a bit during these past days but this night...you reached your fully eight-months look. It was fucking strange. You went to sleep with a cute little belly to waking up with a round and imposing belly.

“I am not, Benjamin” You scoffed. “The doctor said it was only one baby and that more than enough” He pinched his lips and you both jumped when the baby started moving. Their movements clearly visible on your bare skin, both of your gazes following every of their gestures, eyes wide opened.

The baby did move these last day but never that much. It was pretty scary.

“It look like an alien about to rip off your stomach to get out of here” Commented the blond, his Adam’s apple bobbing roughly in his throat.

“I know” You whined. “I want this baby out of me” You complained with a groan as they kicked harshly than before.

“I’m sorry babe” Ben grabbed your hand and pressed it gently, his face was very pale. “What we are gonna do ? We have a billion things to buy before this kid is coming and I need to call my mom, holy shit, that wasn’t the plan at all” He scratched his unshaven chin, it did happen when he was home for few weeks, he was lazier about his appearance and you didn’t mind it but these days was just because he was incapable of doing anything else than staring at your growing belly.

“We should do a list” You looked around the room, it was messy and really need a good cleaning. You thought about the pile of dirty laundry waiting in the bathroom. And the other one of greasy dishes in the sink. The small bag of weed and rolling paper on the coffee table. The household products under the sink, easy to grab. So many changes were required. In a such short amount of time.

Ben came back in bed with a little notebook and a pen, sighing deeply.

“Okay baby, what do we need to buy in first ?” He wrote To buy urgently!!! on the top of the page and underlined it multiple times.

“We need nappies, wipes, baby clothes” You enumerated the first things that crossed your mind when you thought about a baby. Ben nodded and quickly wrote all your ideas. “Fuck, we need a bed for this baby and...a fucking stroller ?” You grimaced and gently massaging your temples. “Can you grab my laptop, we gonna order everything we can online. I’m not in state to wondering around for hours in all these baby shops”

The blond picked your laptop from the end of the bed and switched it on. He tapped few words on the keyboard and the screen quickly filled with a sparkling big tittle Baby Paradise, rainbows and teddy bears all around. You both swallowed sickly at this view.

“Alright, nappies...jesus these so many different sorts of” Ben scrolled through the page, biting nervously his lips. Few days ago you were scrolling to find a nice travel destination for your week of holiday in two months, well it seemed rather compromised now. “This one ? No. 1 Newborn nappy with features specially designed for the comfort and protection of newborns, up to 12 hours protection, perfect for day and night usage...Sound good ?”

“I guess...” You shrugged and rested your head on his bare shoulder, he added five box of these nappies to the basket. “Good, one thing done. Only a billion more to do” You joked...but not really.

Your boyfriend chuckled, putting a kiss on your hairs as a big ad invaded the screen. Nappy Rash Cream.

“The fuck is that now ?” He clicked on it and apparently you couldn’t not buying some of it. For soft and non-irritating baby bottom. “This shit is fucking expensive” He mumbled but put it in the basket anyway.

“It’s because you pick a bio label, Benny” You snorted and he rolled his eyes.

“Like I would let my kid have some shitty cream because it’s cheaper, no way” The way he said my kid warmed your heart a bit. The idea of Ben with a baby in his arm was less scarier. But only a tad. “Thanks god we have good salaries because this child gonna cost us an arm and a leg”

“I think your right” You sighed and checked the list. “We need wipes to clean the little bum of this baby”

After an hour of shopping about every essential baby stuffs like bottles feeding, newborn bath products, an easy-to-use thermometer, a little bath tub exclusively for baby and other things that you didn’t even know you needed like a freaking baby nails trimmer or a dozen of pack of water bottles because – you just learnt it but it did make sense – babies didn’t drink water from the tap as they were fragile tiny person, only clean and proper water. You checked on your phone and the baby wasn’t supposed to drink water before six months at least as he was going to drink your milk. But Ben insisted. It’s done, we can keep it in the empty closet in the kitchen.

It took you the entire morning, deciding between this label and this one, if you should pick the bottle feeding with bees on it or bunnies...yes that an argument you didn’t imagine having with Ben but life was full of surprise. You put your childish behaviour on your pregnancy hormones. At the end Ben added a pack of bees bottles and bunnies’.

“I really need to pee” You pouted and Ben closed the laptop with a dramatic grimace.

“It’s only the forty times this morning” He teased and made his way to you, getting up and walking was still a bit weird for you. In only few days you had to adapt to a massive weight, pulling you down, it was so strange. He helped you reach the bathroom, his arms supporting you protectively.

“M’ gonna cook I’m starving, fancy something special baby ?...and my other baby, of course” He winked playfully, glancing at your swollen belly.

You giggled a bit and carefully rubbed your bump, your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the baby immediately reacting to your tender gesture. You barely interact with this little human since you learnt about it, it wasn’t fair for this baby but it was so scary...You promised yourself to make more effort, to bound with this upcoming child.

“Can you make me your tomatoes and pesto sandwich ?” You asked as you slowly took your pyjama pants off and sat on the toilet seat. Ben always offered you his help but you wanted to do the most you could by yourself.

“Only a sandwich ? Baby, this little alien need more than that” The mother hen was back and you cheekily smiled.

“Well, I wasn’t finish Benny boy. I’m gonna eat this sandwich, meanwhile you, pretty boy, gonna cook your delicious pasta, the one with marinara sauce. Please ?”

“Gimme fifteen minutes” He winked at you and left for the kitchen.

You were laying on the sofa, stuffing food in your mouth like you didn’t eat for a week. You immediately felt better but you were still hungry, waiting patiently for the pasta.

“Alright, here the pasta for the two babies” He put a giant pasta plate in front of you, fuming and smelling incredibly good. You slowly sat up correctly and grabbed the dish, drooling at this perfect sight. “I also bring the doctor envelope, thought that it would be easier to buy baby clothes if we knew the sex, no ?”

You nodded as an answer, your mouth to busy munching your meal to reply vocally. Ben took a deep breath and opened the envelope, his face a little tense.

“Girl” He cleared his voice and repeated louder. “It’s a girl, you...we’re expecting a baby girl” He smiled nervously as you quickly swallowed your bite.

“That’s...great” It sounded more like a question but the whole situation was still feeling like a prank sometimes. “Are you happy ? Or you wanted a boy ?”

You stared at each other for few seconds before both of you bursted in laugh at your last words. Neither of you wanted a girl or a boy. The closest thing to a baby that you could have wanted was another puppy but even that you had decide to wait, a dog was already a lot of work to take care of. You were so relieved you didn’t take another dog.

“I...to be honest, I never think about that. Kids in the future yes, but the sex...it doesn’t really matter ya know ?” He shrugged as his cheeks were a bit flushed. “I guess, a girl, it’s good. Easier than a boy, right ? Calmer”

You snorted, very amused by his naivety.

“Ben, baby. Maybe in films, the cute little girl with pretty blue eyes and braided blond hairs love playing with her doll, eat all her vegetables and said I love you to her parents every night but in real life, it doesn’t last longer than ten minutes” You pinched your lips, repressing a laugh at his wide and scared eyes. “When I was little, I was a monster, terrorising all the boys in my school”

“What are you telling me that ? Do you really want me to cry or what ? Because I will if you keep going doing this” He whined, shoving a fork full of pasta in his mouth. “But at least I’m not going to have this horrible conversation about these awkward hard-on you can get anywhere and anytime. I’m still traumatising by my dad’s conversation.”

“More traumatising than the day you get hard when you saw your older cousin in bikini ?” You teased with a cocky smile, you knew it was one of the most embarrassing moment of his life. Comprehensible. “Because you know your granny still remembered”

“I was thirteen years old, jesus ! Stacy can’t still not look me in the eyes”

“You’re such a drama queen Benny” You pressed a light kiss on his cheek before digging back in your plate.

“We will see who’s gonna be the drama queen when the kid gonna start bleeding” He chatted back with a smirk.

You dropped your fork and felt a wave of panic crashed through your body.

“Oh my god, you’re right !” You put the plate away and hid your face in your hands, tears sliding freely on your cheeks. “No, I want to change ! I want a boy Ben !”

The blond frowned and reached for your face, surprised and worried of your sudden change of mood.

“Babe, I was just kidding, a girl is awesome !” He tried to cheer you up, a bit guilty for you state.

“But you were right ! I was so scared when I get my first period and fuck, this is so painful ! I’m not ready to explain her that...and what about her first time ? I’m gonna need to talk to her about sex with boys...or girls ! Shit I don’t know–”

Ben stopped your rambling, grabbing softly your face and wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“(Y/N), my love, breath okay ? You’re not alone in all of this, I’m here. I will do whatever I can to help you raising our little girl” You sniffled a bit and slowly calmed down. “Plus, I think we have few more years before worrying about all that, right ?” A noise between a laugh and a sob escaped your throat as you shook your head, he was right. “Can you stop crying now, baby ? You know I hate seeing you like that”

“I can’t, I swear Ben I’m trying to stop but look...” You rubbed your eyes and immediately tears came back, rolling down your face. “I don’t have anymore control on my own body” You complained but still smiled through the tears. “Fucking pregnancy hormones”

“Sound rather annoying” Ben said softly, his lips lingering during few seconds on your forehead.

“It is” You hiccuped loudly and your boyfriend laughed a bit.

“Would you want more pasta baby ? Would it make you stop crying ?”

“Maybe” You sniffled and gave him your empty plate and he winked at you.

You were so glad that your emotional support was back on the track. You couldn’t do it without this marvellous man. You saw Frankie stood up from her little bed to follow Ben and you called her, always craving for a cuddle with his dog. She looked at you hesitantly but entered the kitchen anyway. You sighed, since the last two days Frankie wouldn’t come closer to you, probably feeling your weird surprise pregnancy vibes that suddenly started emanating from your body.

“There, baby” You smiled softly at the blond and took the plate from his hand. He put two bottle of beer on the table and opened them, taking a big sip right after. “Want a beer babe ?” He pushed the drink toward you, his eyes glued on his phone as he scrolled furiously on the screen.

“Ben” You giggled quietly and pushed back the beer to him. “I can’t”

He glanced toward you with a frown then immediately cursed loudly.

“Shit, I’m sorry baby, I didn’t even think...we always drink beers on saturday lunch” He pressed a sloppy kiss on your cheekbone. “M’ sorry (Y/N), only four weeks and you could drink again, yeah !” He grinned at you and raised his beer playfully before drinking another sip.

“Ben, you’re being rude right now” You complained with a grimace. “I’m not allowed to drink as long as breast-feed the baby”

He almost chocked on his beer and coughed roughly. “Fucking hell, that’s make sense. That’s really unfair, though.” He bit the inside of his cheek to not laugh and you rolled your eyes, he was such a dork.

Frankie jumped on Ben’s lap and cuddled against him, but still keeping an eye on you.

“Frankie still doesn’t let me pet her” You whined and sadly watched the cute beagle nuzzling under her owner’s hand. “She act like she is the only one scared by the little alien. I’m as surprise as you Frank’ !” She raised her head when she heard her name but didn’t make a move toward you.

“I guess she just need time babe” Ben shrugged and scratched her furry head. “Your belly is rather...impressive, still a whole thing to process, ya know ?”

“That why you never touched it ?” You snapped rougher than attended and his smile fell as soon as he heard your words. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound rude, I know you need time, it’s okay” You gave him a shy smile and looked at your half-empty plate, you weren’t hungry anymore.

The truth was that you were hurt by the fact that Ben never touched your bump during the past four days. Not even once. You get it, this belly was terrifying but still, the baby was here and well alive, he couldn’t just keep ignored it.

Ben grabbed the plate from your hands and put on the coffee table before sliding his fingers under you chin, turning it toward his gaze.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I’m truly am, I never mean to hurt you. It’s just...if I touch it...her...she gonna be so fucking real” He mumbled ashamed, his lower lip pinched between his teeth, eyes travelling between your bump and your eyes.

“But she is already real Ben. And she is coming to be out in less than a month, you...we need to create bond with her. We have eight months to catch up and I don’t want our kid to hate us because we were scared” You raised your pyjama top and exposed your swollen belly, placing a gentle hand on it. “She’s awake Ben, please come and meet your daughter”

The blond sniffled quietly and you tenderly kissed away the only tear which escaped his beautiful green eyes. He nodded timidly and put a shaky hand on your bare stomach, licking his suddenly dry lips nervously. You moved your own hand on his and slowly slid them to where the tiny foot of your daughter were pushing your belly. Ben gasped surprisingly when he felt her kicking against his palm, an amazed smile on his features.

“Hi baby” You moved your hand away and softly caressed Ben’s hairs, watching the first interaction between your daughter and her dad, eyes inevitably watering at this sight. “I’m sorry I didn’t say hi sooner...I was so scared but not of you my sweet girl. More about my questioning abilities to be a father...but I will do my best, me and your mom, we will do everything for you to be happy” Now you were sobbing quietly and not only because of the pregnancy hormones. He pressed a soft kiss on your parted mouth then on the top of your round tummy, murmuring sweet nothings to the baby.

You hissed when she kicked harder and Ben immediately backed up.

“Did I hurt you ?”

“No, n– ouch, no, Benny, you didn’t do anything” You smiled through your grimace. “I think she just a bit excited to finally meet you, she’s kicking me everywhere, evil little creature” You joked and rubbed your belly, trying to calm her. It felt pretty natural to do it, probably your maternal instinct finally waking up. It was about damn time.

“Oh.” He gave another kiss to your belly then focused on your lips. Sweet but deep one, showing his infinite love and affection for you. You smiled widely through the kiss, Ben and you could do everything as long as you were together.

Your eyes opened surprisingly when you felt something wet brushing against your stomach. You broke the kiss and lower your gaze to see Frankie, her cute little nose pressed against your belly, sniffing and rubbing it carefully.

“Oh good girl Frankie. Can you feel the baby Frank’ ? Can you feel your little sister ?” Ben – and you even if you won’t admit it – always took this stupid baby voice when he spoke to his dog and you were pretty sure it gonna be the same with your daughter. His excited voice combined with a rubbing on your stomach were enough to drive the beagle wild, not afraid anymore of the little alien. Her tail was wiggling strongly and happy barks were echoing into the flat, she was licking your tummy but stayed incredibly careful, she knew without a doubt another tiny life was inside here and she didn’t want to hurt it. Probably one of the cutest thing you ever witnessed.

“I guess she’s ready to be a big sister” You sighed happily, scratching her lower back exactly the way you knew she loved.

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy #queen #bohemian rhapsody #borhap

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notsugarandspice · 7 years ago

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Let’s Talk About Parks

*sings* I can’t write anything coherent so have this utter garbageee

Parks & Rec AU!

Read it on AO3.

CHAPTER 4: THE BASKET

“Babe, I have a double shift today so I won’t see you until tomorrow,” says Ben, feverishly stuffing things into his duffel bag, and simultaneously trying to put on a sweater.

“Alright. I have dinner, no worries!” says Richie, picking up a pack of Cheerios without looking up from the TV.

“Oh God. Rich that’s not food. And…can you please try to clean up a little?” Ben comes up to stand by his boyfriend, and he sees Richie’s face fall a little, and he pauses the game to look up, running a hand through greasy black hair.

“I-I’ll try, okay? Just don’t expect much.” Richie reaches out to take Ben’s hand and kisses his knuckles.

Ben blushes and pats his boyfriend’s head affectionately. “Alright, well, I’ll finish up whatever you’re not going to get to.”

“Okay.” Richie gives him a small smile and Ben walks out the door in haste.

As soon as his boyfriend makes an exit, Richie feels a wave of guilt wash over him. All Ben does is take care of him and he never gives back. So Richie decides to wobble towards the bedroom, take out a piece of paper and write down a list of chores for himself. Taking a double doze of the prescribed painkillers, he starts by taking care of the area where he seems to spend most of his time - the living room, removing of the dirty dishes, empty packs of chips, multiple itch sticks, vacant beer bottles. Richie pushes all of it into a garbage bag and places one filled to the brim right outside the front door to put into the large bins later.

With no proper knowledge for the use of the vacuum cleaner, Richie simply throws the couch cushions on the floor and vacuums on top of them and the emptiness on the seating area. He discovers a lot of lost items under the sofa, and plenty more candy wrappers. After he’s completely done with all the trash in the house, he takes the garbage bags out and throws them into a pit, waving to one of the cross-street neighbors doing the same. Richie then finishes a sink full of dishes and checks the fridge for expired items.

After completing the chores inside the house, Richie blows up a kid pool he found in the garage and fills it with the water from the hose, squeezing an entire bottle of Ben’s shampoo. He remembers that Went used to wash his dog Rosco in a similar fashion, and since he can’t really get into the shower, that’s the only way he can think of getting himself fully clean. He puts two garbage bags on each leg and wraps the scotch tape under and around the knee generously. Richie runs inside the house to get one last thing - the old boombox he had since he was a kid, covered in stickers and other teenage memorabilia. He inserts the latest Three Skin CD, puts on a song he wrote to Ben at the beginning of the year and strips all of his clothes before stepping into a rather chilly pool. Richie decides to throw the clothes in too for good measure, arguing that he might be just about done with the chores for today, and laundry is simply pushing it.

Just as he starts to sing along to the lyrics he hears the back door creak loudly, and he’s too comfortable to crane his neck to see, but he already knows it’s Lawrence. That complete asshole of a neighbor who never wants to leave him alone. Naturally, his neighbor places himself right in front of the pool with a solemn expression on his face, and all Richie can think of is that the guy’s entire outfit is in earth tones.

“Turn it down.”

“No, I wrote that song.”

“Do I look like I give a shit? Turn it down.”

“I’m not going to turn it down. What are you even doing- HEY!”

Lawrence grabs the boombox and makes a beeline towards the fence door that connects their backyards.

“You give me my boombox back right now!”

“IT’S MY BOOMBOX NOW, I ASKED YOU NICELY!”

Richie sits up on the pool, utterly flabbergasted. “You did not ask me nicely, you asshole! I just put twelve new batteries in that thing!” Shit.

Richie rolls backwards to get out of the pool but quickly lands on his back without crutches. When he finally manages to hold onto the side of the house to get them, he goes wobbling after Lawrence at the highest speed possible, clothes forgotten.

“Hey, Lucas! Look w-what we got,” says Bill, walking into the office with a large neatly wrapped basket. He puts it on the table in front of his coworker, admiring the massive red bow.

“Whoa, mama.” Lucas reads the label that says Neibolt Construction and rolls his eyes. Suck ups.

“I l-love Chardonnay,” says Bill sighing dreamily, and bends down to look at what else is inside.

“You can have the wine. I want to take that cheese and do terrible things to it,” says Lucas, boring a hole through the yellowish square hiding behind the bottle.

Bill starts unpacking the package and only stops when he feels Mike’s hand slap the top of his from going further. “No, no, no, no! Bill, don’t you remember? We can’t accept anything above twenty-five dollars for corruption reasons, c’mon, man.”

“W-what makes you-“

“I have to go drive all the way to Portland if I want to buy a film with nudity in it. We’re public servants.” Mike picks up the basket and has to stretch his neck back when the purple tie gets stuck under it. He stumbles towards his office, opening the door with the heel of his shoe, and places the gift under the desk, careful not to distress it.

Soon after he sits down, he sees Ben make his way into the department, and Mike instantly lights up from the brightness in his friend’s eyes amplified by a dark-turquoise sweater. “Hey, Mike.”

“Ben! Thanks for coming. We were thinking of making a social network where we could post updates about the park. Something like a page on Facebook? That seems to be the place everyone goes to these days.” Mike gestures for Ben to stand next to him as he shows him the open page on the computer. “EDDIE!”

The boy irritably makes his way into the office and rolls Lucas’ chair to sit by Mike, and when his boss refuses to move, Eddie simply pushes the chair with his, getting closer to the keyboard with a blank expression. He rolls the sleeves on his flannel and opens the Facebook dashboard.

“Can we cut this red ribbon, or do you like want me to sit here and wait for you to do it?” asks Eddie, nodding towards the little bow in the middle of the screen.

“Oh, right. Sure,” says Mike, grabbing the scissors from the cup on his desk, and cuts the strip straight in the middle. “Eddie, that’s really great. Look at all the kids!” Mike points at the folder filled with pictures of children in one of the community parks.

“Oh, look! The Pit has six friends already,” says Ben, pointing at the numbered list on the right side.

Eddie clicks on the new tab and enters the youtube.com, opening a horror claymation video. He doesn’t even look up at Mike and leans back in the chair, grabbing a Sharpie from the pen cup.

“Alright, well, we have things to do, so Eddie, you’re in charge while I’m gone,” says Mike as he grabs his briefcase from under the table. He stops in the doorway to observe Eddie draw shapes with the Sharpie on top of the white jeans. Mike shakes his head and exits the department.

“Doing a little experiment tonight to see what will get me drunker, drinking wine or-“

Mike didn’t know what to expect to see when he makes it back to the office the next day but it was definitely not that. He stands in front of the computer in pure shock, already violently sweating through the button-down. There, on the video in the middle of The Pit’s Facebook page is Eddie, smudged eyeliner, wine-stained lips, and a Sharpie-drawn Wicca symbol in his cheek. His hair is disheveled, cheeks pink and he is drinking wine straight from the bottle. Sitting behind Mike’s desk. He can tell because Obama’s portrait is in the background, just like it is in Mike’s office. It is the highest level of a nightmare.

“Right now drinking wine is winning-“

“God, Eddie, why would you do this?” Eddie is sitting on Lucas’ table, completely unaware of the damage he’s done, smiling mischievously at the image of himself chugging some Merlot.

“Um, because I was bored and my hair looked really good. That basket was right under the table,” he says without so much as looking at Mike.

“You have to take this down. I just sent a mass email linking to this page to promote our cause.”

“C’mon, play it again, Bill,” says Lucas, laughing at Mike’s horror-stricken expression.

“You g-gah-got it.”

Before Bill gets to so much as touch the mouse Jim makes his way out of the office, his lips pursed so much that they are invisible under the luscious mustache. “Michael.” He instantly turns and walks back into his office.

Mike puts his briefcase on top of his table and walks towards Hopper’s office, placing himself in front of the boss’ desk.

“Mike, he is nineteen years old. I thought I told you to contain this entire pit situation because a lot is at stake here.”

“Yes, I-“

“The Disciplinary Committee is having a hearing later today, and you’re going to have to testify.” Jim crosses his arms and leans back in the chair, brows furrowed and eyes icy cold.

“Oh, no-“ Mike is starting to feel nausea creeping up his throat, his head consistently changing its mind about being too heavy and too light. He starts stumbling towards the closest wall.

“Eddie might get dismissed. You could get fired.”

“Oh my god. Oh god. Oh no. Oh god.” The backs of Mike’s knees bump into the bench that stands by the wall of Jim’s office, and he sinks into it, falling onto the side, letting his shoulder feel the hardness of the seat. “This bench is so uncomfortable. Help, Jim. Help! Tell me it’s gonna be okay. Jim! Tell me it’s gonna be okay.” Mike feels himself madly hyperventilating now, and he doesn’t know how to calm down.

Hopper stands up and awkwardly pats Mike on the shoulder as he flails sideways on the dark wooden bench. “It’s..uh..hang in-“ As soon as Mike reaches a hand out, Jim pulls back and leans against his desk awkwardly. “-you’re uh, you’re okay.”

The next couple of hours are an epitome of a nightmare. Mike hasn’t worked at all, and he has to dry off his suit in the bathroom because of the forming sweat stains. His head is throbbing, and the coffee is producing the complete opposite of comfort. Mike rubs his face and temples in a desperate attempt to gain some composure, but it doesn’t seem to help. The distraction appears in the face of Lucas who rolls his chair to place himself in front of Mike’s desk.

“You ready for the hearing?”

“No, not at all.” Mike pushes the coffee cup away and lets his head fall into a sweaty palm.

“Do you want me to run some practice questions with you? Maybe help you prepare?”

“Sure.”

Lucas leans back in his chair and grabs one of the notebooks on Mike’s desk to take pretend-notes. “Mr. Hanlon, you are accused of leaving an intern in charge of the department and allowing a minor to consume an alcoholic substance on government premises. How many drinks do you have a week on average?”

“Zero.” Lucas raises an eyebrow judgmentally. “Well, zero to six.”

“I’m going to write down ten,” mutters Lucas, writing scribbles.

“Yeah,” whispers Mike sighing.

“Do you ever cheat on your taxes?”

“No, never!” Mike straightens up and sits more erect, suddenly intrigued by Lucas’ enthusiasm.

“Hey, you’re doing great. Alright. How many sexual partners have you had in the past year?”

“You think they’ll ask something like that?”

“You never know, nothing is off-limits to them. Now, Mr. Hanlon, how many sexual partners have you had in the past year?”

“Zero to six.”

“Zero. Have you ever thought about Jim sexually?”

“What-“

“Have you ever had a sexual dream about Jim Hopper?”

Mike looks horrified, and his voice comes out borderline hysterical. “Absolutely not, no-“

“Yes,” says Lucas, scribbling something down.

“No-“

“Now in this recurring dream you have about Jim, is he a furry, half-furry, a merman?”

“What-“

“Is he wearing a baseball uniform? Are you making love to him in the field of flowers on a couch shaped like his mustache?”

“Okay, no, time-out-“ Mike’s forehead is covered in sweat, and he aggressively throws his arms around.

“This committee doesn’t do time-outs, Mr. Hanlon! Answer the questions!”

“I need something to drink,” says Mike, unbuttoning his blazer.

“How about some wine with a minor?!” screams Lucas, leaning on the table.

“I meant water.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Hanlon. You’re fired.” Mike’s eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. Lucas stands up and pushes his chair back. “So this is your worst case scenario, you know?”

When Mike later walks towards the meeting with Jim, he is suddenly very aware of their proximity but also infinitely grateful that he’s there. Mike’s not sure he could possibly do this alone.

“Thank you so much for coming with me.” He is pacing in the waiting room, and Jim distractedly scrolls through his phone.

“I’m a department head, I have to be.”

They’re called into the room much sooner than Mike would’ve liked it, and the moment he sits in front of three stern middle-aged men, Mike instantly regrets applying for the job in the first place.

“Mr. Hanlon, you’re here because you allegedly accepted a gift of over twenty-five dollars, and contributed to the delinquency of a minor. Can you tell us what happened?”

“May I have a glass of water first?” The man nods and Mike instantly reaches for the glass standing on a black tray in the middle of the table, but his nervousness betrays him, and he knocks the whole row down. After putting it all back in place, he shakily pours some of it into the cup and gulps everything down. Mike then takes the briefcase from the chair next to him and pulls out a folder full of neatly typed notes, but the paper flutters in his hands.

“Two days ago, my department received a gift basket from a well-known local construction company. Awash in the glow of attention, I made a very unwise decision to leave it in my office in an indication that it was accepted by the department. This decision will live in infamy. The basket was already halfway open, and our intern, Edward Kaspbrak, drank some of the wine without my knowledge.”

“But you did open the basket. And the intern did drink some of the wine,” says the exceptionally unpleasant man sitting right in front of Mike, his mustard yellow blazer making Hanlon’s eyes hurt.

“Don’t blame him for my mistakes!” exclaims Mike, slamming his fist on the table. Upon seeing the other people’s rather startled faces, he clears his throat and sits back a bit. “The biggest crime we can commit here would be to destroy the teenage boy’s passion for local government.”

“Mr. Hanlon, what was the first thing you did when you arrived at work the next day? Could you give us a detailed timeline?”

“Of course. I awoke at six twenty-one in the morning after a fitful night of sleep-“

“Okay, what do you guys possibly want him to do?” suddenly asks Jim, half-groaning and rubbing his face in irritation.

“Well, we don’t know yet. We have a lot more questions ahead.”

Jim groans louder now and clenches his hands together.

“Jim, it’s okay-“ Mike reaches to place a comforting hand on his boss’ shoulder.

Hopper flinches away from the gentle touch, like he always does, and resumes to get even more riled up. “No, it’s not okay. This is not communist China. You cannot make him whip himself. You cannot make him wear a hair shirt.” Mike feels a sudden surge of raw gratitude wash over him, and he can’t help but crack a smile.

“We weren’t planning on doing either of those thin-“

“This is America! You want to live in North Korea? Go live in North Korea. I don’t want to. I want to live in America! Mike has never broken a rule in his life to the point that it’s annoying. If you want to slap him on the wrist, go ahead. You planning on doing anything more serious? You’re going to have to go through me. Let’s go.”

“We’re done?” asks Mike, his eyes jumping between the three shocked men and red-faced Jim.

Hopper promptly stands up from the chair without pushing it in. “We’re done. Let’s go.”

Mike stands up too, grabs his things struggling to mask a gleeful grin spreading across his face. They make their way back to Hopper’s office, and the boss frustratingly sits down on the letter chair. Mike stands in front of the desk again because his nervousness isn’t letting him relax enough to take a seat.

“After this, you should only expect to get a letter in your file. That’s it.”

“Jim, I just wanted to thank y-“

Jim raises a hand a closes his eyes in an unshakable demeanor. “Don’t worry about it.”

Mike smiles warmly, and he can see the corners of Hopper’s mouth jump slightly but he doesn’t comment on it, and instead sits down behind his own desk and instantly texts Ben who shows up in less thank half an hour.

“Hi, I got here as soon as my shift ended. How did it go?” asks Ben huffing and puffing, giving Mike a quick hug.

“I don’t want to be overdramatic but today felt like a hundred years in hell and the absolute worst day of my life.”

“Oh god, Mike. I’m so sorry.” He places a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and Mike’s slight smile feels like a win. “I haven’t slept in more than a day but do you want to go out tomorrow? Take your mind off things?”

Mike places a hand on top of Ben’s and smiles wide. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Ben finally makes it back home an hour later, his muscles aching from standing for so long, and head heavy from lack of sleep and abnormal amounts of caffeine. But as soon as he opens the door, he registers the impeccably clean living room area and walking further notices the pleasant smell of freshly cooked food. And there, in the middle of the kitchen stands Richie, his hair tied back in a ponytail, freshly ironed button-down rolled at the elbows but torn track pants on the bottom. And somehow, that’s still incredibly endearing, and Ben feels his heart swell with affection.

“What do you think?”

“Rich, this is so sweet.” Ben walk closer to the kitchen, dropping his duffel bag on the sofa and instantly notices a scrape on his boyfriend’s cheek. He cradles his jaw and rotates it to the light source. “What happened?”

“Eh, I was chasing this jag-weed neighbor and fell in some prickly bushes. Doesn’t matter. What do you think of the house?” Richie points one of his crutches to the rest of the clean area.

“I love it,” says Ben sweetly and leans in to give Richie a soft kiss. “Baby, sit down, I’ll look after your scratches.”

Richie carefully sits down behind the dinner table set with candles and wine and leans the crutches against the side. “Does this mean I’m getting gently laid tonight?”

“Richie!”

Perma Tag: @happytozier @studpuffin @j0ys @qwertykevin @its-stranger-than-you-think @trippy-alexissss @letmybabyystayy @tinyarmedtrex @d-nbroughs @aizeninlefox

Parks & Rec AU Tag: @gazebo-motherfucker @1-800-lonelyheartsclub @eddiecare

#reddie #stanlon #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #benchie #richie tozier #stranger things crossover #lucas sinclair #jim hopper #eddie kaspbrak #my writing #parks and rec au #bill denbrough

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austinpanda · 4 years ago

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Dad Letter 052321

23 May, 2021

Dear Dad--

Sunday greetings! Yesterday was a big event; we had company for the first time since Thanksgiving. Same company, as it happens, plant scientist guy and husband of plant scientist guy, also known as Bryan and Andrew. By this past Friday, the last of us to get vaccinated--Zach--was two weeks past the date of his second vaccination. Since it’s now deemed safe for vaccinated people to mingle without masks or social distancing, we’re going to attempt to have a life outside the trailer again. So we celebrated this by inviting people into the trailer for an afternoon!

I’m not sure how it happened, but a plan developed for them to come by at 2:00 and make us all caprese salad. Then I would make corn dogs, and then we’d have rice pudding Zach made for dessert. We were going to have caprese salad because Bryan recently learned how to make it. Imagine a plate with six tomato slices on it, spread out, and each one has a slice of mozzarella cheese on it, with a basil leaf on top. Then you drizzle all six of those shits with olive oil and a bit of balsamic, and salt and pepper. That’s a caprese salad. I was making corn dogs because I made a joke about contributing corn dogs, but everyone likes corn dogs so much, it became part of the official plan. And we were all going to try the rice pudding because Zach wanted to contribute something without having to cook, and this was something he’d made (in accidental abundance) just the day before. Pretentious Italian salad, bourgeois hot dog snack, and, out of nowhere, rice pudding.

The visit was quite a success. The caprese salad was good, because any dish that allows you to stuff cheese into your mouth is good. And the rotten commie bastards at the grocery store didn’t have any corn dogs (I even asked, and they didn’t have any in the back, either.) so I got Johnsonville sausages (like big fat sausagey hot dogs) and buns. We watched some funny stuff and some high-def nature documentary stuff on the TV. I’d promised to tell them all the secret stuff about working in a casino that I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but when the moment came, I couldn’t think of anything. I haven’t learned any interesting secrets yet! I’ve just learned how to complete the daily food and beverage audit, and a couple others. If I started describing, in detail, how I do it, you’d quickly fall asleep.

Tomorrow should be an interesting day at work! The whole time I’ve been working there, the casino has been operating on its post-apocalypse business model. Two thirds of all the slot machines are simply turned off, so different patrons won’t sit too close to each other at the slot machines. Been like that for months. Tomorrow, however, they’re going to turn on all the slot machines for the first time since before the apocalypse began. I expect it will be weird. It’s like I’ve been on a cruise ship, but it was only at 33% capacity, only going 33% as fast as it could, with the lights only at 33% brightness. Now everything’s going back to 100% all at once. It’s going to feel noisy and unusual, I predict! But it’s all good. This is a step back toward normalcy.

The job is currently an odd mixture of comfortable familiarity and daily exposure to terrifyingly confusing new shit. To sum up, there are seven audits I will eventually learn. I’m starting to think of them as the seven pillars of bureaucracy. So far I’ve learned three. The potential iceberg that could sink this ship is this: when I’m doing audits, I’m interacting with some very important, complex, inter-connected spreadsheets, and there’s a very real potential that I could break something. Tyler has explained to me that some things I’m going to be doing involve the potential for me fucking up large and important things. I asked him, “We’re going to be real careful about training me to NOT do that, right?”

I have learned, to my dismay, that it’s ridiculously easy to fuck up a spreadsheet! Here’s an example. You make a spreadsheet, there’s columns, and headings, and numbers, and data, and let’s say there’s one box in the spreadsheet where you tell the spreadsheet to put the total of a bunch of numbers in the column above. You literally put a little equation into that cell of the spreadsheet, so that after you enter the numbers in the column, the spreadsheet calculates the total and puts it in that box automatically.

Now let’s say you’re doing your job, and instead of letting the spreadsheet put the total in that box, like it’s supposed to, you decide to be Mr. Initiative and just type in the total yourself. You enter the total into that box where you told the spreadsheet to calculate it. Well, congratulations, you’ve just broken your spreadsheet! Now, the next time someone puts the numbers into that particular column, the spreadsheet won’t put the total in the appropriate box, because the equation has been removed, by you, when you put the total in by hand yesterday. Now it just has that number you entered in that box, FOREVER. Someone has to figure this out, go back to the appropriate point, and replace the deleted equation so the spreadsheet works properly again. And the boss looks at you with a frown, and says frowny things about being careful where you put data on the spreadsheet. And I’m sitting there thinking, “I didn’t know this kind of fuckup even existed till five minutes ago.”

It’s just now full-blown spring here in Maine. And, to Zach’s great distress, it’s getting warm. We’re expecting our first day of highs in the mid 80s to come this Wednesday. That might not seem like much, but without air conditioning, that’s going to make it close to 90 degrees inside. I am therefore going to have to reinstall the window unit air conditioner that I bought last year. (Yes, I uninstalled it when the weather turned cold, so I could have the use of that window for the next 8 or 9 months.) It’s a strange kind of window unit, and I probably described it last year when I got it. It’s like a white suitcase standing on end, with a Black & Decker label, and there’s a dryer hose-type thing that pushes hot air out of a hole in the window, instead of the whole unit sitting in the window. So you don’t have a big, unsightly AC unit in your window, but you have a sleek white suitcase thing on your living room floor instead. It’s not ideal, but the suitcase then pumps out enough cool air to prevent you from sweating to death, and we’re in favor of that.

To add a degree of difficulty, I’ve resolved to install it in the living room window this time, instead of the smaller, easier dining room window. I don’t know how to install it into a window that big, so I may have to get creative (i.e. duct tape). This will solve one crucial problem, however: putting the AC unit in the dining area was kind of stupid, because no one spends time there. That was just the easiest window to install it in. It needs to be in the living room, where the people actually go. I’m curious to see what I’ll come up with, and how it’s going to look after I’m done.

The coming work week should also be interesting because we think corporate is going to allow us to take our masks off while we work, assuming we’re fully vaccinated, which I am. Having to work with a surgical mask when you also wear glasses is such a monumental pain in the balls, so lifting the mask mandate at work is going to be a very sweet occasion. Plus, there’s about two dozen casino workers who are going to see my face for the first time, and I predict at least a couple of them will spontaneously disrobe, because they like my beard, and my purty mouth, and my jawline (which I have one of, now that I’ve lost weight). Should be interesting!

More next week. All my love to you both!

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dragonasheswrites-blog · 7 years ago

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The Heaven We Didn’t Choose, Chapter 19: In Which Piracy is Encouraged

...But no one seems to mind.

First: Chapter 1: In Which a Child Makes a Friend

Previous: Chapter 18: In Which Sans Has a Heart

Next: Chapter 20: The Trouble With Paperwork

Click here for the story overview.

Sans came back to reality feeling disoriented and he automatically tensed. Pain was what woke him, and for a long moment that was all he could focus on. Taking a few deep breaths to calm down, he took stock of what was making his bones scream at him.

His injured arm felt like it had been shattered, which sent a pulse of fear through his soul. A quick glance down confirmed that it was still only fractured, but the sight of the injuries seemed to only increase the pain. He hissed, trying to find some way to release the tension that wouldn’t bring Boss to his door.

It helped - a little - and he fought to focus on something else instead. Why was he injured? Why was he so sore? Slowly, memories of the fight trickled back. The kids, the cops, Undyne. The damn dogs that ran off without a second thought. The alleyway…

The cat was mewling softly when he rolled over to examine it, looking a bit more wobbly than it had earlier. Abruptly, he realized that neither he nor the cat had eaten dinner. From its size, the cat was probably pretty young; babies needed to eat regularly, if he remembered correctly.

He pulled himself upright with a grunt and slipped his jacket on. It was still damp, and smelled awful, but it was a layer of protection.

The clock in the kitchen confirmed that he’d only been asleep for about two hours. He was feeling it in every bone of his body. He felt heavy and light at the same time, and he wondered idly what would happen if he just collapsed. Would he float, caught between the two odd sensations? Probably not, his logical mind concluded. He’d just tip over like an idiot and jostle his already-aching bones.

There was still some canned food in the cupboard, and Sans scanned the labels. Cats were carnivores, right? He thought back to the few times he’d encountered Mettaton’s torture assistant, a cynical and depressed cat monster. A hazy memory of the guy removing the bun and pickles from a burger tickled the back of his skull. It was unusual that any monster would turn his nose up at food, so the incident had stuck with him.

Hopefully surface cats acted on the same principle. There was a can of shredded chicken in the back of the cupboard; he grabbed it and, after a bit of quiet shuffling through the shelves, an old clamshell takeout container that Boss had insisted on washing. He filled one half with water, then carefully made his way back to his room.

The cat was extremely grateful for the water, which Sans found surprising considering it had nearly drowned just a few hours before. He let it do...whatever it was doing with its tongue (flicking water into its mouth? It looked inefficient) while he wrangled the canned chicken open one-handed.

Thankfully, the chicken didn’t have any weird flavorings. He was fairly certain that it wasn’t the healthiest thing to feed a cat anyways, but it was that or starve. He carefully dished out some smaller pieces onto the empty half of the container and set it beside the water.

Almost immediately, the food was gone. Sans reluctantly took a few more lumps and plopped them onto the lid.

“That’s all ya get,” he grumbled. “I’ve gotta eat too.”

The cat responded with a plaintive meow, indicating its displeasure at being cut off.

“What? I don’t even know how you’re eating all that. You actually have a real stomach, doncha? Isn’t it full by now?”

Another meow.

“Shhh. If ya wake up Boss, we’re both out on our asses. You feel me?”

He finished up his portion of the chicken quickly, not really tasting it. His arm was starting to heal as his body converted the food into magic, but it was a slow process. He considered asking if Tori had some time to look at it; he hadn’t properly talked to her in months, since before he’d started watching Att...her. The last time he came close to visiting was when he dropped off Frisk’s Christmas gift, and he’d just left that on her front porch. Who knew what she thought of that.

On second thought, he could probably power through it.

“‘Kay, then. I’m gonna head back to bed for a few hours. You good in the box?”

The cat blinked at him.

“...I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

He rolled over carefully, taking the pressure off his injured side, and tried to sleep.

“SANS”

“Whazzit?” Had he slept at all?

“WAKE UP THIS INSTANT AND TURN YOUR ALARM OFF! ALSO, DO NOT THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT LAST NIGHT! BE PREPARED FOR PUNISHMENT WHEN YOU RETURN THIS EVENING!”

Loud footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Sans’s soul sank. There went his plan of avoiding Boss.

He sat up carefully and turned his alarm off. He’d gotten so used to waking up at a certain time that he’d been getting up before his alarm even went off lately, which was useful but flat out annoying. Apparently the night before was enough to throw his sleep schedule off.

A soft cry from the corner of the room brought his attention back to the cat. Sure enough, it had made some kind of icky sticky mess on his shirts; just as well that they’d be tossed in the wash.

“Ya good in there, bud?”

The cries paused for a moment, then resumed.

“I, uh, don’t speak cat. ‘M not sure what ya want. Are ya hungry? Thristy? Throw me a bone here. Heh.”

The cat didn’t speak any language Sans knew, but it apparently recognized when his attention was on it. Its noises changed in pitch and frequency to the point where Sans half-expected Boss to come storming up the stairs to investigate the racket.

“Okay, okay. Shhh. Shhhhhhh.” He picked it up and ran his phalanges over the impossibly soft fur. This calmed the creature a little, enough that its noises weren’t quite so high-pitched and distressed.

“I tell ya what. If you can keep quiet 'til I get out the front door, we can raid the hot dog stand supplies for breakfast. How’s that sound?”

The cat made a few little mruph sounds that he took as agreement.

Boss had already headed out for the day by the time Sans made his way downstairs, which was helpful. He had to set the cat down to pull his shoes on, which prompted more crying, but it stopped when he settled it back into his jacket. He decided to leave the zipper alone; the little critter didn't like being restrained. The way it was sitting didn’t exactly look comfy to him, but the cat was purring again. It felt strangely nice against his bones.

The walk to the hot dog stand was worse than usual. The cold rain had turned to snow sometime in the night, and his usual path along the side of the road was obscured by a light dusting of white. He could feel the ache in his bones from the fight the night before with every step, and halfway there the cat decided it liked the cold even less than it liked being confined and had retreated further into the jacket.

It was a relief when his stand was set up and he could finally settle his bones onto his stool. The cat, interested by the fun smells, popped its head out to explore.

CLANK CLANG KA-CLANK CLANG CLANG

...And immediately retreated as far back inside his jacket as it could manage. Sans peered in the direction of the noise, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Heya, GD! Want some breakfast?”

Greater Dog bounded up, slobber flying everywhere as he panted excitedly. *YESYESYES,* he barked. *WANT WARM PUP TREAT FOR BREAKFAST PLEASE.*

“One hot dog for a cool dog, comin’ right up.” He dressed the ‘dog up the way he knew GD liked it: a few generous slices of cheese, some bacon crumbles, and a bit of steamed mustard greens. (He’d been testing new ‘healthy’ toppings a year or so back, and while most of them were total flops the dogs really liked the mustard greens. Since they couldn’t eat most of what he served, he kept it on the menu.) “There ya go, big guy. Bone appetite!”

Greater Dog barked a laugh and took the ‘dog with one large prosthetic hand. *THANKS, FAVORITE BONE BUDDY. LOOKS GOOD. GOOD FOOD. GOOD GOOD GOOD.*

“Glad it suits you. Hey, don’t forget to pay again, yeah? I’d give you all the ‘dogs you want for free, but I get in trouble when I don’t come home with cash.”

The dog whined an apology, then disappeared into his suit. A moment later, he re-emerged and spat a few gold coins onto the counter.

“Thanks, buddy.”

*BONE BUDDY HAPPY? GREATER DOG HAS BEEN GOOD BOY??*

Sans sighed. “Yeah, you’ve been a good boy. C’mere, big guy.”

Greater dog leaned forward, his metallic suit half-splayed across the counter of the hot dog stand. The wood creaked under his weight, and he adjusted so he wasn’t in danger of collapsing the poor booth.

“Yer a good boy, GD. A real good boy.” Skeletal fingers scratched behind the dog’s ears, past the scruff of his neck, and around the sides to that spot up under his chin where he could never seem to reach properly.

Finally, after a small eternity of petting, Greater Dog sat up. *PATROL, NOW,* he barked, ears drooping. *NO TIME FOR MORE PETS. SAD.*

“Hey, you’re filling in for Dogamy on patrol tonight, right?”

*YES. DOGAMY HOME WITH PUPS. PUPS GOOD. PUPS NEED PROTECTION.*

“Cool. I’ll see you then, ‘kay? I’ll be at my usual station.”

Greater Dog whined. *WILL MISS BONE BUDDY.*

“I’ll miss you too, GD.”

The dog licked the hand that had been petting him, then tensed. *WHAT? CAT? BONE FRIEND HAVE CAT?*

“Uh...yeah?”

*CAT GOOD! CAT FRIENDS FUN! CAN CHASE!* He leaned in closer.

The cat tucked inside Sans’s jacked hissed and made another rather poor escape attempt, thwarted by the fact that it didn’t quite know its way around. Sans huffed at the unusual feeling of something furry clinging to his spine with tiny claws. “Not this one. I found it last night. It’s just a baby, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with it. It’s, uh…” he looked up at Greater Dog. The dog’s eyes were bright with excitement, every muscle in his fluffy body tensed with the thrill of the hunt. None of this was getting through. “It’s...shy?”

*SHY NOT FUN,* he huffed. *IS SECRET?*

“...Yeah. Please don’t tell B...uh, Papyrus.”

*WILL KEEP BONE FRIEND’S SECRET.* He whined. *WILL MISS BONE FRIEND. WILL SEE BONE FRIEND SOON.* He barked a quick *HELLO, GOOD BYE, PATROL NOW* at something behind him and bounded off, enthusiasm barely waned. Which was odd; GD didn’t like many people, but Sans couldn’t be bothered to care.

He was about to put his head back down for a much-needed nap when his eye sockets caught the person who’d been standing behind Greater Dog. Someone he didn’t think he’d see again in...well, ever. “...Uh…”

“Hi, Mr. Sans!” Attie called, waving enthusiastically. “I was going to come get a breakfast hot dog and tell you hello, but I didn’t want to interrupt Mr. Greater Dog’s petting. He really likes petting, right?”

“Y-yeah, he sure does.”

“I know. He sometimes lets me pet him outside his armor, but only when he’s security for me and Mommy. If he has other jobs, he doesn’t let me.” She pouted a little.

“Hey, uh, where’s yer mom? Isn’t someone supposed to be watching you now?” That was the rumor, anyways. If Frisk had gotten sick again...

“Mmm-hmm. She’s coming in a minute. She’s prob’ly talking to somebody.”

Some part of Sans was screaming that he was being creepy, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. He hadn’t seen her in...gosh, over a month. 44 days, to be exact. It had been two weeks and five days since Frisk followed him home, and it had been three weeks and five days between that incident and Boss slipping Attie out in the middle of the night.

There was a strange sensation in his throat, a tightness he wasn’t used to. It didn’t feel like strangulation - like when Boss lifted him by his collar - but more like there was something stuck there, in his vertebrae. It was uncomfortable. The sensation distracted him from the prickling in the corners of his eye sockets that he was far too familiar with; he blinked rapidly to avoid embarrassing himself.

“Are you okay, Mr. Sans?”

“Y-yeah. ‘M fine.”

She bounced on her toes, making her shoes light up. Those were the ones she’d told him about on one of the first days he’d watched her, he realized. They did indeed have pink flowers on them, with little lights that flashed from their centers. He wondered if that was a human invention or if she’d somehow charmed the mad Royal Scientist into making her customized shoes. He thought about anything he could to distract himself from the fact that he’d remembered something, something small from almost two months ago, and that meant his mind wasn’t falling to pieces just yet.

Attie was dressed in a puffy white jacket with faux fur lining the hood. On her hands were mittens, knitted in a pattern he recognized; Tori must have been busy since he last saw her. The edges of her sleeves were stained in browns, greens, and reds.

She looked just like any other little girl. Nothing about her appearance indicated that she was the daughter of the Ambassador of Monsters, that she had any security presence at all.

He felt it, though. The glow of Frisk’s protective wards - much stronger now that she was recovered - was apparent in every bounce of her daughter’s feet. There were few weapons wielded by humans or monsters that could touch someone with that much protection, and anyone stupid enough to try would be in for more than one nasty surprise.

“I don’t think you’re okay,” Attie said. “You just keep looking at me funny and you haven’t even said ‘hello’ or ‘how are you.’ Are you gonna be a asshole again?”

“Not tryin’ to be. So, uh, hello, Attie. How are you?”

“I’m doing real good! Um, really well, I mean. How are you, Mr. Sans?”

“I’m, uh, okay.”

“Undie said you were in a big fight last night. Is that true?”

“Yeah…? I didn’t know she’d talk to you about that…?”

“She didn’t. She told my mommy when she stopped in for a quick meeting while she thought I was getting dressed. Mommy said we could come have breakfast hot dogs and make sure you’re okay, just in case.”

“Uh...cool? Yeah, I’m in one piece.”

She looked expectantly up at him.

“...Oh, right, hot dogs. So, uh, what do ya want on yours?”

Attie wanted bacon, cheese, onion, ketchup, mustard, and relish. Sans handed the ‘dog to her with its toppings balanced precariously, then gave her a small stack of napkins. “Don’t wanna get your nice jacket all messy.”

“It’s okay. I can wash it.”

“I’m sure ya can, but you wanna look nice, right?”

“The lessons are finally kicking in, then?” Asked Frisk from RIGHT behind him.

“Holy shit.”

“Language.”

“Uh...” He glanced at Attie, who was giggling, then twisted on his stool to get a good look at Frisk.

...A good look was an apt way to put it. She had a long tan coat on, red buttons in two neat rows down the front. Her waist was accented by a simple brown belt that twisted into a casual knot on one hip. The hat and gloves tucked under her arm were dark brown, matching her knee-high boots, but he could see the lines of a familiar pattern on them. Tori hadn’t waited until Christmas to deliver gifts, apparently.

Slowly, hesitantly, he met her eyes. She looked a lot better than he remembered, even from the last time he saw her in person. Maybe it was the light - even the dull, filtered light of the winter sun through the clouds did her more justice than the harsh yellow bulb that lit the dining room in his apartment - but she looked more than ready to take on the world.

It was a far cry from the helpless mess she’d been when he found her, so many weeks before. And she was completely focused on him in a way that she - or, frankly, anyone else - had never been. He felt his face starting to turn pink.

Say something, his mind begged. Come up with something - anything - to keep her from thinking you’re a complete fool.

“What-” No! Not that! “-do you want on your hot dog?”

He could feel his voice squeaking a little and resisted the urge to clear a throat he didn’t have.

Frisk smiled at him anyways, and he felt his soul stutter in a way that couldn’t possibly be healthy. “I haven’t had a hot dog in ages. Surprise me.”

The challenge in her voice was both clear and terrifying.

ABORT MISSION, ABORT MISSION!

He gulped and examined his options. With phalanges that were definitely not shaking, he dipped into the small stash of fresh bakery buns he kept for his best customers, then put a few slices of cheese on it. That went into the small, warm space behind the hot dog roller. While it was warming he grabbed a paper plate and a sharp knife and started chopping a pickle spear and some of the baby tomatoes he’d picked up on a whim. He pulled the bun out once the cheese was melted and put a ‘dog inside, then added bacon crumbles, onion, and his sliced pickles and tomatoes. A drizzle of yellow mustard completed the masterpiece, and he held it out to Frisk with a flourish that (probably) disguised the slight tremor of his hands.

Attie applauded uselessly through her mittens, her own hot dog mostly gone. “That looks really yummy! Mommy, can I have a bite?”

“May I have a bite,” Frisk corrected.

“Sure, but only if I can have a bite of yours!”

She rolled her eyes and took a tentative bite of her hot dog. Sans watched her chew and swallow, feeling as if quite a bit more than customer satisfaction rode on that simple action. Finally, she nodded. “It’s really good, Sans. Thanks!”

“Yer welcome.” Relief made him slouch against his counter.

“I never would’ve thought to put fresh tomatoes on a hot dog, but it’s not bad. What was the inspiration?”

He thought, for a moment, that she was mocking him, but her face showed only sincerity. It threw him for a loop, and he stuttered for a moment before he found his bearings. “I, uh, well, I was doin’ a bit of research. Gotta keep a femur upon the competition and all. See, ketchup is pretty salty, and a lot of what I have - cheese, bacon, even the hot dogs themselves - is pretty salty too. The tomatoes give you some flavor without the extra salt and give some texture, too. Can’t really take credit for the idea, but...well. Thought I’d give it a shot.”

“It’s brilliant. You should keep it up.”

His face was definitely turning colors. Thankfully, Frisk was distracted by Attie wanting a bit of the ‘super-special hot dog’ and he had a moment to compose himself.

Naturally, that was about when his little friend decided to make its presence known once again.

Attie squealed, nearly losing her grip on her hot dog. “KITTY!”

“No way!” Frisk said looked at Sans, then down at the cat that was clawing its way up his shirt, then back at him. “You have a kitten? Since when?”

He tried to pry it off, but the claws were deceptively strong and he didn't want to break anything. “Since, uh, last night? It was caught in the rainstorm. Found it when I was walkin’ home.”

“Can I hold it?” Attie asked, tugging Sans’s sleeve harshly. Her protective wards flared-

“Gah!” Sans pulled his arm away, clutching at his fractured bone, and accidentally banged his bad arm on the edge of the counter. He froze, cursing himself. He hadn’t meant to dodge away from her like that; it was just so unnerving that someone would try to touch him (and someone with that much magic on her besides) that he hadn’t tried to simply maneuver away from her. She hadn't registered as a threat, so she'd gotten closer to him than most people normally did. He shrunk in on himself, taking his bearings, then remembered that she’d asked a question. “S-sure. Just, uh, give me a sec.”

Frisk crouched down so she was eye level with him. “Sans, are you okay? Undyne said you’d been injured last night in the confrontation with those humans on the mountain, but she didn’t know the details. She thought it wasn’t serious since you shrugged it off. Are you okay?”

Sans checked his HP before responding. He was down to a single point. When had he gotten so low? He felt his breathing pick up, fear of his own mortality overpowering his pride. “I...I...uh, I…” He couldn’t seem to force the words out.

He felt the familiar chill of someone else’s magic invading his own, just enough to get a good read on his stats, but despite his embarrassment he allowed it. More than that, he took a chance and showed his real stats; she'd been sympathetic before, hadn't she? Across from him, Frisk took a sudden breath. “Sans. You need help immediately. What are you even doing out of the house like that?”

“W-wasn’t that bad e-earlier. Had somethin’ to eat...g-gosh, early this mornin’ and brought my HP up a f-few points. I-I’ll be fine. G-gimme a sec to grab a ‘d-dog.”

“Sans, I’m going to call my mother to take a look at you.”

“No...uh, n-need...”

“Yes, there is a need. You and her get along fine, right? She has some healing magic. Just...please, let me do this. I’m worried, and Attie’s worried too.”

They had a point. A ‘dog probably wouldn’t bring his HP up far enough for him to get through his shift, and sentry duty later that night, and whatever Boss had planned. He let out his breath in a solid woosh and nodded.

Frisk stepped away and started dialing. Sans deliberately didn’t listen in on her conversation, instead focusing on carefully extracting the cat from his person. Its nose was twitching but it allowed him to maneuver it into his lap without a whole lot of fuss.

It kept turning its head towards the counter, though. It definitely knew where the food was.

“Here,” he said, gesturing to Attie. “D-didn’t ya wanna hold it?”

“Can I?” she asked in a very small voice. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Sans. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know your arm was hurt.”

He took a deep breath, willing his stutter away. He wasn’t a babybones anymore, he reminded himself. “Eh, ‘tsokay kid. No real harm done. If you’d meant to hurt me, well. I’d be dust right now. You didn’t, though, and ‘m fine, see? Now help me with this little cat.”

He used his good hand to cup the cat as she lifted it, making sure it wasn’t actively trying to claw her. It seemed a little upset at the movement, but its protests were more vocal than physical. After a moment of Attie’s tiny fingernails scratching behind its ears it settled down and started purring again.

“Huh. It likes you.”

The girl’s smile was smug. “Of course! Everybody likes me.”

For most kids, Sans thought, that would be a laughably arrogant statement, but...everyone did seem to like Attie. She’d survived Boss. She’d charmed the dogs. She’d even melted Undyne’s heart a little, and that was a feat worthy of some kind of medal.

Frisk stepped back into his field of vision. “Mom will be by within a few minutes. She’s finishing up some paperwork that needs to be done before lunchtime. Will you be okay until then?”

“Yeah. Of course.” It wasn’t like he hadn’t existed on one HP before. Much as he’d come to regret how he got his LV, he would’ve been dust years ago without it. He shuddered at the thought.

Frisk apparently mistook that gesture and hunched back down in front of him. She looked at him for a long moment before narrowing her eyes in DETERMINATION. “Attie, you can go play. I’m going to keep an eye on Mr. Sans for a bit.”

The girl looked at her mother, then down at the cat in her arms. “But...I’m holding his baby kitty! I can’t go play!”

“Alright. But no more grabbing, alright? We’ve talked about this. It’s one thing when you do it to me or your grandma and grandpa or Undyne, but you have to be careful.”

“Okay. I said I was sorry.”

“I heard. Good girl. Now, Sans, where did you find this kitten?”

Sans explained how he’d found the cat in the alley the night before. He deliberately ignored the small smile on Frisk’s face, as if she knew something he didn’t.

(He was sure she knew a lot of things he didn’t.)

Thankfully, her only remark was, “Are you even allowed to have pets in your apartment?”

“Eh, yer mom lets some of the dogs stay downstairs. Why wouldn’t a cat be okay?”

“Uh-huh. And how did Greater Dog react to your little friend there when we were walking up?”

“Heh, point taken.”

They both watched Attie play with the cat for a few minutes. When it's meows became too insistent, she handed it to her mother. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she pouted. “I thought it liked me.”

Frisk turned the critter over with deft hands, poking it gently along its stomach. “He’s probably hungry. Sans, has he eaten anything since that chicken you gave him last night?”

“Nah. I was gonna give it - uh, him - something from the stand, but I didn’t get the chance. Think he’ll eat a ‘dog?”

“It’s worth a shot. Here - I’ll pay for it.”

“What? No-”

“Please. It’s the least I can do.” She handed him enough to cover three hot dogs with the fixings. He handed her back the change, but Attie scooped it up instead.

“Can I put the change in the tip jar?” she asked.

Frisk patted her on the cheek. “Go ahead. Don’t break anything.”

“Yay!”

Sans chopped up a ‘dog into tiny pieces and scooped it into a paper plate for Frisk, who tried to coax the starving cat to eat something. He made another for himself and choked it down against the rolling feeling of nausea.

“Did you set that up?” Frisk asked, gesturing to his tip jar.

“Uh, yeah. The old coin funnel on top is something I found years ago in the dump. Can’t remember why I bothered carting it home in the first place, but it’s come in handy now that we’re on the surface. I, uh, had to fix it up a little to get it to accept g as well as human coins, 'n it doesn't work quite right all the time, but the kids like it.”

They watched Attie drop a pair pennies into a slot at the top of the funnel, the coins passing each other several times before dropping into the clear jar below.

“It’s hard to believe that monsters are able to enjoy things like this now,” Frisk said. “I remember back in the Underground how, um, tense everyone was. They’re a lot more...whimsical, I guess, now.”

“Yeah, well, fighting for space and food kinda takes the fun outta ya. We didn’t really have time for things like this - not in public, anyways. Heck, I didn’t dare leave a tip jar out back then; someone would’ve come by and stolen it. Now look at me. Some days I make more in tips than I do selling ‘dogs.”

She hummed in agreement. Attie sent a few more coins down the chute, watching them intently. After a moment, she turned to Sans. “Why to they go around and around and around like that instead of dropping straight into the jar?”

“It has to do with gravity, angles, and the shape of the funnel.”

She held out a coin. “Can you show me?”

Frisk frowned and raised a hand to stop her daughter. “Attie, don’t bother-”

“Eh, it’s fine,” he said. “Kid’s not hurting anything, and I’ll still be right here if someone wants to buy ‘dogs.” He pushed himself up. “Uh, feel free to take a seat if you want. There’s just the one stool and it might be...a bit short for ya, but…” he gestured awkwardly and turned away.

Attie was a brilliant audience, holding onto every word as he explained the ins and outs of accelerated gravitational motion and centrifugal force. He was pretty sure most of it flew straight over the seven-year-old’s head, but she didn’t interrupt.

“...Sans?”

He looked up to see someone approaching from the direction of the park. “Oh. Hi, Tori. Thanks for, uh...y’know.” He shrugged.

“It’s no trouble. I heard that you were in a fight last night, but not that there were complications. What seems to be the trouble?”

Frisk sent Attie off to play on the slides (one of the few areas of the playground without a coat of snow) while Sans reluctantly explained his situation. Tori stood quietly through it all, her eyes occasionally flicking to her adopted daughter.

“I do not approve of healing every small hurt, but I also do not want to send a sentry out injured after what happened last night. Hold out your arm, please.”

Sans did so, bracing himself. Healing was an agonizing process at the best of times, and Tori was at least a little bit irritated with him. He could feel the bone shards grating against each other as the fractures knit. He hadn’t registered it through the general haze of pain, but there were even cracks in the small bones that comprised his wrist. Tori’s firm grip on the damaged bones made his vision waver, and he grabbed the counter of the hot dog stand to keep from embarrassing himself.

After what seemed like hours, the pain ebbed and he came to his senses. He didn’t realize until he extracted his hand from Tori’s that he was shaking from pain and exhaustion; the accelerated healing process was draining his reserves faster than the ‘dog he’d eaten earlier could replenish them.

“Frisk, let him sit,” Tori said, shooing her daughter off the stool.

With great effort, Sans managed to maneuver himself around the back of the hot dog stand and collapsed onto his stool. He could feel the strain on his spine and hips from the position, but at least he was less likely to tip over in front of his…

...friends?

He decided not to think too much about it.

“If that is all, I shall be off,” Tori said to Frisk. “Do you need me to watch Atlas this weekend?”

“That would be great, Mom. We can talk it over this afternoon at the Embassy.”

“Very well. I shall see you then.”

Tori walked off without saying goodbye to Sans, and he winced. It was only half because of the little twinges of pain that kept shooting down his spine. Shifting didn’t help much, either.

“I thought you and Mom got along?” Frisk asked, looking concerned again.

“We do. It’s just - ugh! - I haven’t seen her in a few months.” In hindsight, he probably should have at least called.

“Well, I hope you get back on speaking terms.”

“No kidding. Don’t want her to bleat me up.”

Frisk snorted. “That was terrible.”

“I notice your lack of surprise.”

She just smiled. “Oh, hey, your kitten’s back asleep. Want him back?”

“Nah, I think he’s comfy.” Both Frisk and the cat looked comfy, actually. Realization dawned slowly on him. (He blamed it on the lack of sleep.)

“Hey, uh, do you know anyone who wants a cat?”

“You’re not going to try to keep him?”

“Nah. You were right ‘bout the dogs. And, well, I don’t think Boss is gonna really go for ‘cute and fuzzy.’ He might, but it's 50/50.”

Frisk looked at him, then back to the cat, then back to him. “Attie...has been bugging me about getting a pet for a while, actually. She wanted a dog but, well, I’m sure you can see how that might get a tad awkward.”

“No kiddin’.”

“We also spend a lot of time at the Embassy, and when I travel Attie spends time with her grandparents. A cat on the other hand...well, you don’t have to walk them, for one. If you’d be willing to stop in every once in a while to feed him while I’m on trips, I don’t see why we couldn’t keep him. If you’re sure…”

“Yeah, that’d be great!” Attie had turned out... mostly alright, after all, short bouts of chaos and terror aside. A cat raised by Frisk would probably wind up ruling the world (or at least the neighborhood), but Sans could think of worse things.

“Okay. Um, do you want to keep him with you for a bit, or…”

“I, uh, don’t even have food for ‘im. I made a little bed out of old shirts, but that’s it. If you don’t mind takin’ ‘im now, go for it.”

She looked at the little cat, stroking gently behind his ears and smiling. His eyes were closed, and Sans could hear the faint rumbling of that purring thing cats did when they were happy. He grinned.

“I’d say he’s in good hands.”

“...Yes. Hopefully. We’ll see.” That smile got just a bit wider, though.

Attie stomped up a little while later, shivering. “It’s too cold to play much,” she said. “And one of the big kids kept trying to get me to stick my tongue to the monkey bars.”

It took Sans a moment to register why this was even a thing humans would want to do. That’s right; humans had drippy ‘saliva’ stuff inside their mouths. Putting her tongue on the unprotected metal of the monkey bars would have probably caused it to freeze and stick. “You tell that kid off?”

“Yeah. I told him that if he wanted to do science so bad then he should try it first, because a good scientist doesn’t use other people as test subjects.”

“Ooookay. I mean, you’re not wrong, but did he do it?”

“No. I guess he didn’t believe in his hyp...hypoth’s.”

“Hypothesis?”

“Yup!”

Frisk chuckled. “Fair enough. Now Attie, I have an important question for you.”

“Okay?”

“Mr. Sans lives in a building with some of the dogs.”

“I know. I heard them when I was having the long sleepover while you were sick.”

“...Right. Well, dogs and cats don’t always get along, so Mr. Sans said he’d let us take the kitty home with us. Would that be alright?”

Attie gasped and turned to Sans. “Do you really, really mean it? We can keep your kitty?”

“Sure, kid.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sans! Thank you a whole, whole, whole bunch!” She shuffled over and gave him a very soft, very careful hug.

He patted her on the back, feeling awkward under Frisk’s observation. “Uh, no problem. I’m sure he’s gonna be happy with you.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Nah. I guess you ‘n your mom get to name ‘im.”

At Frisk’s nod, Attie began petting the kitten, her brows furrowed. “You said you found him in water, right, Mr. Sans?”

“Yup.”

“And he’s got a bad eye, like Undie.”

“Sure does.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to name him...Terror Of the Seven Seas!!! Because he’s a pirate cat.”

Frisk snorted. “That’s a long name, honey. Want to come up with something shorter?”

“Nope! But he can have a nickname if you really want him to.”

“Terror Of the Seven Seas it is, then.”

“Guess you could call ‘im ‘TOSS,’” Sans piped up. “Short for Terror Of the Seven Seas. Pirate extraordinaire.”

The little girl hummed. “That sounds okay. He can be called TOSS for a nickname.”

Frisk was snickering behind her hand, he knew it.

Suddenly, a loud ringing noise interrupted the peaceful morning. Frisk dug through her pockets for a moment, then produced a familiar-looking phone. “Oh...Sans, I’m so sorry, but we’ve got to run.”

“Okay.” It was expected, he told himself. Frisk was an ambassador and a busy woman.

“Can we bring Terror of the Seven Seas with us to the embassy?” Attie asked.

Her mother glanced down nervously. “Well...just this once, I guess.”

She cheered. “See ya later, Mr. Sans!”

“See ya, kid,” he replied.

And then they were gone, and his morning seemed all too quiet.

#Dragonashes writes #Undertale #Underfell #The Heaven We Didn't Choose #Sans #Papyrus #Frisk #Attie #Greater Dog #Greater Dog is a good dog #TOSS #Surely this won't come back to bite anyone #Don't mess with pirate cat

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clydesanders-rp-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Full name: Clyde Micheal Sanders

Pronunciation: CLY-DE

Nickname(s) or alias: Clyde

Preferred name: Clyde

Current age: twenty

Astrological sign: Leo

Element:Fire

Title: MR

Label: The misfit

Gender: Male

Preferred pronouns: He/him

Sexual preference: bisexual

Romantic preference: Grayromantic

Resides in: Princeton, NJ

Current occupation: student

Language(s) spoken: english

Native language: english

Current marital status:

( &&. background )

Reason behind name: his mother named him after clyde barrow

Birth order: first born

Ethnicity: CAUCASIAN

Nationality: American

Species: human

Religion: catholic

Political views: none

Financial status: rich

IQ: 127

Hometown: Santa monica, CA

( &&. physical appearance )

Looks like (or face claim, if applicable): cole sprouse

Height: 6′0

Weight: 170

Shoe size: 12

Figure/build: slim

Hair colour, Dyed?: raven

Hair length: short

Eye colour: green

Glasses? Colour? / Contacts? Are they coloured?:

Shape of face: round

Facial hair:

Do they shave/wax? Where?:

Skin tone: white

Tattoos: none

Piercings: none

Birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: birthmarks

Dominant hand: right

If painted, what color are their nails/toenails?:

Usual style of clothing: casual

Frequently worn jewelry: gold rolex

Describe their voice, what accent?: none

What is their speaking style (fast, monotone, loquacious)?: loquacious

Describe their scent: soap and cigarettes

Describe their posture: normal

( &&. legal information )

Birth Name: (if changed)

Other names they go by:

Any speeding tickets?: yes

Have they ever been arrested?: yes

Do they have a criminal record?: no

Have they committed any violent crimes?: no

Property crimes?: no

Traffic crimes?: yes

Other crimes?: no

( &&. medical information )

Blood type: o positive

Date/time of birth: 8/4/97 , 9am

Place of birth: santa monica, CA

Vaginal birth or cesauren section?: vaginal

Sex: Male

Diet: regular

Smoker? / Drinker? / Drug User?, Which?: all

Addictions: cannabis, xanax and alcohol

Allergies: none

Do they get occasional checkups?: yes

Ever broken a bone?: yes

Hospital visits, what for?: overdoses

Any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: none

Any medication regularly taken: none

( &&. career information )

Past occupation(s): modeling

Why are they no longer working as it?: disagreements with the boss

Do they enjoy their current occupation?: yes

Why do they do it?: for fun

How did they end up in their current occupation?: personal manger

How long have they been in their current occupation?: 3 years

( &&. personality )

Direct quote from them: ‘ life is too short so do what you want to do’

Positive traits: warmhearted, affectionate, helpful

Negative traits: moody, ill tempered, impulsive

Likes: working out, music, reading, sleeping

Dislikes: crowded places

Strengths: photography, science

Weaknesses: Math, flirting

Insecurities: his nose

Fears/phobias: being stuck in tight spaces

Habits: playing with hair , biting nails, shaking leg

Quirks: always chewing gum

Hobbies: photography

Guilty pleasure: xanax

Desires: to travel the world

Wishes: to go back in time

Regrets: not forgiving his mother for leaving

Secrets: he was involved in a drunken hit and run

Turn ons: neck kisses

Turn offs: spitting

Kinks/fetishes: being tied up

Superstitions: opening an umbrella inside

Lucky number: 7

Pet peeves: People Who Don't Cover Their Cough/sneeze, animal cruelty

Their motto: you only live once

( &&. favourites )

Food: pasta

Drink: mountain dew

Fast food restaurant: olive garden

Flavour: vanilla

Word: dope

Colour: red

Clothing: gucci

Accessory: gold rolex

Candle scent: apple cinnamon

Store: apple

Instrument: guitar

Game: call of duty black opps

Occupation: student

Animal: dog

Holiday: halloween

Weather: cold

Season: fall

Book: hunger games

Artist: eminem

Band/group: linkin park

Song: what’s my age again by blink 182

Movie/film: Constantine

TV show: south park

Sport: lacrosse

Sports team: the giants

Quote: ‘live fast die young’

School subject: english

Possession: ring

Name: clyde

Number: 7

Emoji: purple devil

Mythological creature: Zeus

( &&. skills )

Talents: photography

Special powers/abilities: none

Ability to drive a car? Operate any other vehicles?: yes

Can they ride a bike?:yes

Do they play any sports?: yes

Anything they’re bad at?: singing

Do they have any combat training? Why?: N/A

( &&. firsts )

Childhood memory: hearing mom and dad arguing

Crush: the girl from next door

Email address: [email protected]

Job: photographer

Phone: iphone 7

Computer: mac

Kiss: the girl next door

Love: N/A

Sexual experience: in her bedroom

( &&. childhood )

Best childhood memory?: opening presents on christmas

Worst childhood memory?: getting an ass whooping from dad

What were they like as a child?: energetic

Any crushes growing up?: brother’s best friend

Did they know/like their parents?:yes

Worst influence on them as a kid?: brother

Did they have a lot of friends?: no

Were they heavily punished?: yes

Anything they wish they could cut out?: ass beatings from dad

Were they more feminine or masculine?: masculine

Were they an early or late bloomer for puberty?: late

Do they still know any of their childhood friends?: yes

Did they have any chores? What?: dishes and garbage

Describe their childhood home: mansion

( &&. this or that )

Expensive or inexpensive tastes?: expensive

Hygienic or Unhygienic?: hygienic

Open-minded or close-minded?: open

Introvert or extrovert?: introvert

Optimistic or pessimistic?: pessimistic

Daredevil or cautious?: daredevil

Logical or emotional?: emotional

Generous or stingy?: generous

Polite or rude?: polite

Book smart or street smart?: both

Dominant or submissive?: dominant

Popular or loner?: loner

Leader or follower?: leader

Day or night person?: night

Cat or dog person?: dog

Closet door open or closed while sleeping?: closed

( &&. family relationships )

Father: Michael Bryan Sanders

Describe their relationship: rocky

Mother: Hayley Lockwood

Describe their relationship: estranged

Brothers: Bryan elton sanders

Describe their relationship: love/hate

( &&. other relationships )

Best friend: N/A

Childhood friend: peter vega

Enemy: brice evans

Past romances: N/A

Pets: dogs

Heroes: superman

( &&. social media )

Do they have a Facebook? Twitter? Instagram? Vine? Snapchat? Tinder/Grindr? Tumblr? YouTube?

If so; Name on Facebook: Clyde sanders

Twitter handle: @clydesanders

Instagram user: @clydesanders

Vine user: none

Snapchat user: @snap-clyde

Name on Tinder/Grindr: none

Tumblr URL:

YouTube channel:Clydesandersvlogs

( &&. musical tastes )

Theme song: Heathens top

Can relate to: crawling linkin park

Makes them happy: always blink 182

Makes them sad: i miss you blink 182

Makes them dance: wake me up before you go

Loves the most: heavy linkin park

Describes them: numb linkin park

Never gets tired of: leave out all the rest linkin park

Would like to be played at their wedding: i was made for loving you ED sheeran

Would like to play at their funeral: 27 MGK

( &&. miscellaneous )

Do they have a fake I.D.?: yes

Are they a virgin?: no

Describe their signature: cursive and neat

How long would they survive in a zombie apocalypse?: until the end

Do they travel?: yes

One place they would like to live: bora bora

One place they would like to visit: Egypt

Celebrity crush: megan fox

What can you find in their pockets/wallet/purse: general

Place(s) your character can always be found: beach

When does your character like to wake up?: late

What’s your character’s morning routine?: normal

What does your character eat for breakfast/lunch/dinner?: poptarts, anything that’s good

How does your character spend their free days?: clubbing

What’s your character’s bedtime routine?: normal

What does your character wear to bed?: boxers

If your character can’t fall asleep, what are they thinking about?: life

What has been their greatest achievement?: making 8 mill on youtube

What is their idea of perfect happiness?: finishing school and getting married

What or who is the greatest love of their life?: girlfriend

On what occasions do they lie?: none

Most marked characteristic: eyes and hair

What is one thing they’d most like to change about themselves?: nothing

How would they like to die?: sleeping

Do they snore?: no

Do they chew their pens/pencils?: yes

Can they whistle?: yes

Do they believe in the supernatural?: no

Have they ever cheated on anyone?: no

Have they ever been cheated on?: yes

Has anyone ever broken their heart?: yes

Have they ever broken anyone’s heart?:no

Are they squeamish?: depends

Have they ever killed anyone? Why? How?: no

Have they ever seen anyone die? What happened?: yes, a friend got shot during a shoot out

Are they a lightweight?: no

#gogreek:task

2 notes · View notes

dofstc · 5 years ago

Text

Midwest Blitz: 8/29 - 9/1

Thursday 8/29 - Chicago @Reed’s Local

We rolled to Chicago after a long work day, ready for four days of rock action. Reed’s is a little hole-in-the-wall local Chicago bar that has a small music room up a couple of stairs in the back. As we sat at the bar waiting for things to get started, a steady stream of friends filed in and there were hugs and slaps on the back all around. Pete wasn’t yet comfortable with his brand-new Rickenbacker so we had to do a quick swap of strap locks back to the Mockingbird. (Yeah we hauled that Rick around this weekend and never used it.)

La Fea was up first and churned out some delicious jagged noise rock with occasional soaring guitars. It was the brother-sister Augustins’ band second show (and sadly, their last). We were up second and were told after the first song that we had dispensed enough fog and to cut that shit out. At the end of “Head And Heart,” the laptop cover vibrated closed and cut the drum track prematurely -- we winged the ending and slipped into our Joy Division cover. Erratic Retaliator Strategy closed out the night with their weirdo Big Black/Ween vibes. Of particular note, all three bands covered Joy Division songs this night: La Fea dished up “Warsaw” (3 5 0 1 2 5 GO!), we did our usual “Transmission,” and ERS did a lovely and melancholy version of “Disorder.” Got the spirit, lose the feeling, let it out somehow.

Friday 8/30 - Louisville @Kaiju

Got to Louisville in time to drop our stuff at my old friend Connor’s house and meet his menagerie of recuse Dachshunds. Then out to dinner and drinks before the show at Kaiju. It’s a fantastic venue with a great staff and vibe. Connor did some cool between-set ambient pieces under his Shedding moniker. Ritual/Error did improvised post-rock with synth and cello to start the band portion of the evening. We played second and managed to segue Connor’s soundscape into our intro ambience. Turned out really cool. We threw down and the crowd to really seem to dig it. It was nice to see many old friends in the audience too!

Satellite Twin killed, as usual. I’ve been a fan since I saw them several years ago and they’ve only gotten better. It’s noisy ATDI/Unwound-style gloriousness. And fantastic dudes to boot. Packed show. Great night.

Saturday 8/31 - Cincinnati (Newport KY) @Southgate House

Pete got up early and lifted weights. (!!!) I relaxed over coffee with Connor and his wife Deidre and the weiner dogs. Made a stop at the fantastic Fat Rabbit, a super cool record/thrift/book store where Pete bought some punk rock shirts for his kid and a three-foot religious garden gnome. Then it was a beautiful drive through the mountains to Newport. We met Phratry label boss Jerry Dirr and Chad of Ethicist at the amazing Mexican restaurant that I’ve been going to for years every time I’m in town. The show tonight was in the Lounge at Southgate House, but the big room was hosting some modern country show. Attendees of that show would wander in now and then and leave quickly as soon as they grasped that a noise rock show was happening. :( Grey Host played cool doomy post-metal and My Condolences played cool grindy almost-screamo. We were sandwiched in between.

The lack of audience and the prohibition on our fog machine made for a slightly less-inspired performance. Great night, nonetheless, connecting with old friends and bringing the rock. We got paid a ridiculous amount of money too.

Sunday 9/1 - Bloomington IN @ The Bishop

We got to Bloomington with time to spare and found a cool bar with great food, including a really good jackfruit sandwich! And then it fucking poured. There was a slight let up and we were able to load in rather unscathed. But then it let loose again. We fretted a bit about whether that would discourage attendance, but we needn’t have. Vuduwasa played their first show, laying down some progressive sludge metal. (”This song is about mammoths and shit. It’s called ‘Tusk Eater’.”) We ripped into our set, fog and all, and by the end of the first song, the fire alarms were blaring. (Foreshadowing resolved!) So the room was cleared and BFD had to be called.

We felt like assholes. We were worried everyone would leave and Civilized Worm hadn’t even played yet. After an excruciating 30 minutes, fire fighters arrived and shut off the alarm. We started again and the room filled back up immediately -- everyone had just been chilling on the sidewalk. Civilized Worm had some of the ugliest guitar tone I’ve ever heard and laid down some Melvins-style sludge (not surprising given the name of the band). It was great night with a very enthusiastic crowd. New friendships and connections were formed in the glow of rock.

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scurvgirl · 7 years ago

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10 Questions

tagged by @lycheemilkart

I’ll tag @lillotte17, @bioticking and anyone else who wants to do it. @ faucoaw, if y’all want to do this one too, go for it. lychee tagged you all, lol

1. Favourite flavor of bubble tea?

I have not had bubble tea so I don’t know.

2. How do you take your coffee/tea.

Coffee - coffeemate/lactose free creamer.

Tea - I only drink black tea atm, and I take it with honey.

3. Favourite food?

This is difficult, I love food soooo much. I am always down for breakfast food, but I also looooove seafood. There is an italian restaurant near me and last time I went (for my birthday) I got this amazing seafood dish with risotto. Blew. My. Mind.

4. Flat water or seltzer water?

I only like seltzer water when it’s got another accompanying flavor (like I recently started drinking the berry Dasani seltzer waters and they’re lovely) so otherwise, flat.

5. Favourite rainy day activities?

Hmm. Either writing or reading.

6. Any pets? What are their nicknames?

Huckleberry the dog, we call him Huck, Snot-Monster (even though he is not a snotty dog at all), Skunk-Monkey, and Mr. Woofers.

Emmie the cat gets called Em, Emiscent (by my dad), Thunderpaws, and Fluffypants.

7. Are you more outdoors-y or indoors-y?

Indoors-y definitely. I like the outdoors, but the outdoors does not like me. I get eaten alive by mosquitoes, I am exceptionally clumsy, and I have a tendency to overheat as well burn...badly.

8. Favourite genre of music?

Uuuh, indie pop? Indie rock? Alternative? Idk, if I hear a song and I like it, I like it, I’ve stopped thinking too much about the labels of stuff, helps me just enjoy it.

9. Any favourite artists from that genre?

The artists I always return to are Florence + the Machine, Lady Gaga, Bastille, and Marina and the Diamonds.

10. Most annoying video game boss?

Ooooh. HMMM. So I immediately think of a boss fight I never got past, and that’s the Troll in the PS2 Harry Potter game. You’re suppose to use a bouncing spell to bounce the club back at the troll but I could never get it. Poor child-me.

On a more serious note, probably the Valsharess in Neverwinter Nights: Hordes of the Underdark, partly because every time you hit her, she made this loud “AAH!” sound that sounded more pornographic than in actual pain, and her barely-there-armor did NOT help the idea (she even had a whip!! AND YOU CAN’T LOOT HER BODY AFTER THE FIGHT BECAUSE OF MEPHISTOPHELES, LIKE WHAT THE FUCK DUDE, sure kill me, but LET ME HAVE MY LOOT).

My Questions:

1. What’s your favorite dessert?

2. Would you rather live on the beach or on a mountain?

3. If you had magic, what kind of magic would you want it to be?

4. Favorite musician(s)?

5. How do you take your coffee/tea?

6. What is the best thing you’ve ever eaten (or just in recent memory)?

7. What is one country you’ve always wanted to visit, but have not yet?

8. One story house or two story house?

9. What is your most disappointing video game boss?

10. What is your favorite video game boss?

#thanks for the tag!#i stole your coffee/tea ask and took inspo on the video game boss one #XP #meme thing #scurvysays #nonsense

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kenysholar1990 · 4 years ago

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Cat Peeing Kidney Wonderful Tricks

1 teaspoon of dish washing liquid detergent.If you're having a soiling problem, restrict their access to your house or a professional pet groomer who will do little to decrease the amount of dry cat foods so full of good things to take the cat already knows.Before you begin to disintegrate and become next to you when filling the box, sometimes he or she shows interest, the scratching post in front of his home base, which centers around his food in the house for this troubled behavior became clear.You can't punish them after the fact they can't speak out verbally, cats communicate in other urine.

This article examines 3 common cat parasites.They still retain the wonderful traits of the litter box.That way when your cat still gets the grease.Not only does proper cat breed and contribute to their owners, but easily recognized by other family members.We've all seen out kitties dutifully clean their cat's faces to distract the cat or a bacterial infection is the leading cause for cats are:

For decorating, instead of the time, from the room with food, water, shelter and medical attention or affection away from the atmosphere, the awful odor is quite easy when one has claimed the house or otherwise embed into the home.I am getting tired of cleaning up your carpets and at a time when you have multiple sets of kittens.When trying to get your cat as if you brush her on a small amount of blood and lots of loving praise and treats will lead to serious problems like weak muscles, lesser immunity and in the device and become rather a trained vet or even a small paper bag, put some herb into it to a pet store and buying a product that consists of a covered jar or can and the floor or from the coat reduces matting, dry skin and flea control go hand in hand.Cats like to avoid all potential hazards.This severe form of exercise that tones and strengthens the muscles of their natural environment inside, sans mice.

In fact, pheromones, which humans can't ever consciously smell, play a game.Just so they can and will almost certainly use and like all surgical procedures does involve a veterinarian's care.After that, it is virtually an impulse the cat litter mat easier for you.Choose the right amount of time they are, but you won't be so beneficial if you've just adopted a kitten that scratching the couch as delivering the punishment.To deal with more attention than normal attention

It's not guaranteed to help them lessen the behavior.Protecting your furniture as he played with his problems.In consideration with my cat Henry has always behaved this way is to take good care of them, and keep experimenting with different strategies until the nail grows out and making a few squirts of the biggest challenges of owning a cat.The boxes should be cleaned with soap and shampoo do not like the Devon Rex, which has been happening within your own cats.The medication is available in the future.

Don't force your cat is inhaled via the infected skin and loose hair that is excreted by the activities of bacteria in the fur, saliva, urine, mucous, salivary glands and hair become too dry with paper towels.If you find that your cat likes catnip until it was a kitten that scratching is a viable alternative for some people.Controlling fleas on your cat will find that after you discovered a flea can live for up to you?Both options will have found each other slowly, and always wanted to entertain their cherished pet.If his fur is not uncommon in asthmatic cats or dogs who have passed laws so that afterwards, he'll have a happy, well prepared home.

A cat's pregnancy may last from between 58 and 70 days; gestation periods will start to act as a treatment.Remove any obvious reason for this reason.First of all, when he meows while he is marking randomly on walls, doors, speakers and nothing can leak through.Once your cat shows her kittens still comes everyday.The thing is, we ought to stop the behavior.

Occasionally caused by cats or there may come running right back to doing his business in their room.If your cat is still entertained by our rules.After a few simple things you absolutely must have a urinary tract infection cat pees frequently in small boxesIgnore this first rule, though, and ye shall pay with pains of Biblical proportions.Over 70 million feral cats around and spend a lot of the board.

How To Get Rid Of Cat Spray Smell

Giving them love, proper care of them, it is important to make him nervous, especially if your cat from peeing on it will let you borrow or rent a trap to keep an eye on your couch; one day it may pee outside owing to this by playing with these, will damage them irreparably.Remember that cats encounter during the process, beginning around three months of age on how to teach a cat and you'll be able to exercise and play.You can improve your pet and your cat, please bear this in adulthood if it has a flea bite allergy.You also want to consider at both ends of their paws.If this is his territory around the garden.

The boxes should be tall enough that your cat with their teeth. Keep your cat a clean piece of carpet she had used EFT on him/with him and it is always something that is something no one can take which are not seeing them again.And remember, always have your own cat's hair, be sure to provide somewhere shady for your kitty has taken up residence in your household.The product spreads itself alone on the label prior to use.An abscess in the garden, your cat is scratching your carpet and then sprinkle area liberally with lemon or orange into a spray-bottle full of corn?

Both animals need to keep both your needs and the one shooting the water, you may have a designated meeting spot with you so you no longer need to be their territory.Teach him not to let wandering cats know to properly groom your cat, it is typical for male cats will sharpen their claws as he scratches the furniture and spraying.However, neutering should be able to rigorously keep on moving.Over 70 million cats in heat can be very annoying or embarrassing especially if it is restricted to living indoors with a happy multiple cat household.While they stop by, they always will have a tendency to stick around and spend their time sleeping more than an invitation from your furniture, use a tree in the cat's sensitive areas like the prey that they oughtn't, and there were cats living in the cat's skin.

Unneutered and neutered felines are very smart and they, like kids, thrive when they get in the world is altered they tend to deposit their contents on the soil and is walking towards you.Almost as soon as she goes, fold or pin them out like dry cat food budget since they satisfy the cat's attention from their indulgent owners.Here are some down notes to take over the floor.If so, hire a professional to treat new stains or the problem will be allowed out of my own, none of the castle.Eventually, you will be tried and true methods below.

There is a 1x6 board and some best left alone or separated from is owner.This act of scratching is a basic need your cat will continue to water issues because they are in the mouth or genital area.Start by assuming that is sold at most pet products are especially popular.Plus, who wants the attention and leave it up with the same as doing it and this will only strengthen the bond of trust with you a present on the back of your family, and for some playtime?If your cat's bad act is not the same household.

Having sufficient play outlets can reduce the damage they can trust you.If your cat will not necessary do anything to the cat furniture can be replaced by something as simple as a tea, this will just not going to bring in a pet store.What to do the same spot it urinated before and after replacing all those damaged items.However, when it comes to how to keep fleas out of the clawing process of your home is simply the boss!Every now and then apply cleaning solution, rinse thoroughly, let dry, and repeat if necessary.

What To Use To Clean Cat Spray

You can customize your pet's fur and dander traveling from the marking.Frontline Plus for Dogs that tailors the dosage to your vet recommends, you just as important as its staining potential, depend on your preferences and budget.These plants will perfume the surroundings and make any kitty one that all doors and windows.If you wag your finger at your cat, make sure that you can save you from all such hazards but raises potential problems of a deeper infection.Be sure that you should slow down on your pet has to be in the house well-ventilated.

Similar to a single cat; they are can vary from breed to breed.These self cleaning cat urine stain on your cat's motivation to mark territory.There are many things on a Tuesday evening.Her fur gets matted in places other than their litter box.It's very common aggressive behavior stopped.

#Cat Peeing Kidney Wonderful Tricks #You Get Cat Spray

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theillustratedintelligentsia · 6 years ago

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Trigger Warning

I’m upset about the confirmation of Brett Kavanaugh. Every woman I know is upset. Every woman I know has experienced assault against her person, her spirit, and her intellect (and those last 2 do count). I don’t know any woman that hasn’t. Granted, my social net IS a bit narrow, but I’ve covered a bit of America, at the very least, and have a handful of worldly friends.

(Yes, I know men can be assaulted, too, but...honestly, this is gonna be about women. A WOMAN took the stand, against her assaulter,and narrated her assault, in front of TV cameras, in front of sworn members of a judiciary committee. What makes this worst is this was not the first time a WOMAN was ignored in a similar situation. And likely not the last. Also in parantheticals: I’m not ignoring the LGBTQIA+ experience, either. Again, this is a woman that put herself out there. I thank the LGBTQIA+ women that have sacrificed themselves for the human rights cause, because let’s face it, without LGBTQIA+ and POC, white women would still be housewives without the right to vote.)

I see the hashtag “believe all women”, but, like all hashtag movements, it’s a series of hollow words unless backed by action. If you believe a woman, or all women, support her, support them. Don’t ask them to relive and narrate their trauma for you. Be mindful of triggers. Be mindful of behaviour. Don’t speak for her, or them, unless expressly asked to, just help support the space women are making. Belief truly is an act of faith, and if you can believe in an omnipresent, omnipotent, Old Man in the Sky on faith, you can believe a woman on faith.

So many people had a “me, too” story. So many. More than most people really realized. The “Time is Up” campaign didn’t get much traction, but it was there like a brief flame. These are campaigns that have the right spirit, but go about the practice all wrong. We should have never had to tell our assault stories. We should have only had to say, “Me, too.”, and be believed, supported.

This culture of women being second-class citizens (or worse: possessions, sex-objects, fantasies, toys to be discarded at will) is not new. It is as old as civilization, really. Look at the myths, look at how ingrained the cultural, cross-cultural, idea of women being monsters is, how it is used to justify all sorts of injustices against women. Just look, and you can see plenty. Eve is accused of getting her and Adam kicked out of Eden, for example. I won’t wax further on the myths, because I am saving that for a different blog post, elsewhere.

Plenty of women are complicit in their own subjugation. Plenty have been, for ages. White women, married to affluent men, who, from a position of high privilege, ignore the plights of women, such as the murdered and missing Indigenous women across the world (to cast a DEEP and WIDE net here, there are plenty of nuances). Silence is complicit, and oppressing the self for the sake of comfort is oppressing others without a voice. It persists the culture of men as First Class Citizens, and women as by-standers, place-holders.

I’ve had to fight through internalized misogyny myself to allow myself to have women friends, to allow myself to see the colour PINK as JUST A FUCKING COLOUR, not a derided indicator of soft and diminutive femininity. I still fight it every day through random bouts of dysphoria; knowing that my genitalia are a marker of “being weak”. Not to mention dysphoria related to eating disorders I’ve acquired because diet and beauty culture. Internalized misogyny is real, and it’s a giant wall that separates women from other women.

Plenty of well-meaning men have persisted the culture, too, by taking up a place in a space not reserved for them, in the name of support. Plenty of men have not verbally called out peers when peers have behaved poorly towards women. I had a friend that built an entire web series on misogynistic ideas, under the guise of dating advice. The first episode was less funny, more serious. The rest became a nightmare of cliches and stereotypes. If it was meant as satire, it missed the mark.

I don’t want to victim blame or victim shame women. I don’t want to discourage well-meaning men from truly wanting to support women. I don’t want the women with the most influence to go silent in resentment. I want everyone to stop.To look at their actions, to listen to their words. To become accountable to both, to each other, to themselves. I want people to understand that sustainable change is not a lot of change all at once, but is SOME uncomfortable change at intervals, gradually. I want people to unite, for a good reason, because they know and understand why things need to change.

This culture can change, but we all need to participate in affecting change. We all need to learn to identify the things that persist the toxic culture, and replace those things with a healthier culture.

What follows is going to be triggering. I know it will be. It was for me, and I am certain there are men in my life that won’t like the pointedness of some questions. I will say this: If I have a problem with a man, I will approach it with him, a superior, and/or through official channels. I’m not going to passive-aggressively drag specific men (except the above used example of web series; though it is still awfully generic).

I am open to discussing any point, with men and with women. I want an open dialogue that encourages the meeting of minds, not the pointing of fingers.

Here there be triggers:

Women (and I will say these were uncomfortable for me, much based either on my own anecdotes, or those of friends, family, and those from other women. I don’t intend to point fingers and victim blame/shame. I’m trying to illustrate points of persistence of toxic culture.):

How much emotional labour do you do for the men in your life?

How many times have you minimized your own desires, your own thoughts and words to avoid conflict, to avoid the discomfort of unsettling your partner, your boss, a co-worker, or a friend? How often have you been minimized by men?

How often have you had to bear the projected frustration, anger, sadness of a man in your life, and process that frustration for him, like you would a child, just to have some stillness, to feel your feelings unperturbed by his? Have you had to bear this more than emotionally, but also physically?

How often have you needed to tone police yourself to avoid being disregarded as hysterical? How often has a man tone policed you because he felt uncomfortable by your upset?

How much patience have you practiced around men, just so you can demonstrate some level of control in front of them, because you fear being minimized, ridiculed, disregarded because your lack of patience can get you labeled as emotionally unstable? How many times have you finally lost your patience, only to be called unreasonable, crazy, delusional, hyperbolic?

How many times have you had to act as a barrier between men in your life and the children in your life, because you fear their expression of toxic masculinity will infect and/or hurt those children? How many children prefer your company over the company of men they know well?

How much physical labour do you do for the men in your life?

How much work around the house do you do for them? Laundry? Dishes? General tidying? Do you minimize this in your head because perhaps the man (men) are primary bread-winners? Does the man (men) persist that minimization by comparing his work to yours, without understanding the effort put forth into the labour of housekeeping?

How much work do you do for male co-workers? Do you do more work than male co-workers, only to be paid less? Do you need to show more proficiency, and tolerate higher scrutiny? Are you relegated to secretarial and/or janitorial duties because those are perceived as roles reserved for women?

How many times have you been pressured to bear a child that perhaps you may not have 100% wanted? How often do you listen to a man argue about abortion, birth-control, single-parenthood, when you know that men cannot have abortions, they do not bear children. When you know men did trial hormonal birth-control, but because of the side-effects (the same as ours) it was not cleared for use. When you know that largely, men are not single-parents, either because they abandon their children, or by court-mandate do not get primary custody (which is a dissertation-post in and of itself, too). How much of the child-care and rearing has fallen to you? How many times have you sparred with a man in your life about a child-rearing technique, and not come to a compromise because of toxic masculinity invading your spaces?

How much of the social labour is yours? How much do you get to mix and mingle with guests, family, and friends at parties, especially around the holidays? How often are you stuck in the position of preparation, setting up, and serving of food and fun? How often are you relegated to tidying the related detritus? How many men are protesting, loudly and even in person, the carriage of injustice that has persisted from the 2016 election? How many women? How many marches and protests have the women organized?

What have you sacrificed to the men in your life?

How often have you said “no.” to a request for sex, and either been ignored, or dogged from a no, to a maybe, to a begrudging yes? How often has your personage been invaded, whether by penetrative sex (via digits or genitalia), or by an uninvited touch? How often have you been pressured into a kiss you didn’t want? Was this done by strangers, by friends, or by a committed partner?

How many times has your career been truncated by men, or otherwise limited by the fact that you are a woman, and those considering your work-place contributions judge your performance by the fact that you are a woman? Or, perhaps, how often was your career truncated because you were harassed and/or assaulted in the work-place, and either reported or didn’t, but then was pushed out and/or quit rather than bear the discomfort?

How often did you skip and/or drop a class in university because your professor and/or TA were men, and they made you expressly uncomfortable, for whatever reason? What did that do to your advancement through university?

Did you sacrifice your dreams, your desires to further advance a man’s dreams and desires? What would you have done if it wasn’t for a man (or men) in your life grossly practicing their perceived entitlement to your body, your time, your energy?

For the men (and I am not pointing fingers at any one man; if these questions make you uncomfortable, perhaps talk with yourself before projecting your discomfort onto a/the woman/women in your life. Also; I don’t hate men, I am frightened by them, though. I’m tiny, I’m white, I’m asexual and aromantic, but have engaged in hetero relationships.):

How many times have you projected your emotional world onto women, either expecting them to just KNOW how to fix your problem, or unconsciously and then become upset when a woman calls you out on it? Have you ever struck a woman (or child) because your emotional turmoil gone unchecked (I know women strike out, too. Again, this is a woman-as-used piece. I am open to discussing men-as-tools piece, but have no first-hand POV on it. I don’t write what I don’t know.)

How often have you made jokes about a woman’s perceived emotional instability, or perhaps the imperative biological function of menstruation? How often have you belittled a woman’s effort, words, or body because either you think you could expend more effort, use better words, or you find her body attractive/unattractive? How often have you minimized the women in your life?

How often have you uttered the words: “I don’t like your tone.” to a woman, because perhaps she has become upset, and is illustrating her upset by way of tone, much like, perhaps, you do? How often have you asked a woman to calm down, or to reign it in? How often do you perceive a woman using a tonality as a threat, as hysterical, as hyperbolic, and/or unfairly/unduly upset?

How often has a woman repeatedly corrected you, or gently steered you away from a behaviour and/or words/actions that are quite literally unhealthy, and then gotten upset because her patience finally broke? How often did you heed her advice-out-of-love before she became upset? How often has a woman repeatedly exasperatedly tolerated your words, actions, and behaviour, and then unexpectedly snapped at you, and you have blamed her for misbehaviour, as if she was a child or a dog?

How often have you felt upset by a child that knows you preferring the company of a woman they know, or being unduly upset if you chide them, but compliant when a woman chides them? How often have you been accused of being heavy-handed, impatient, with children?

How much house-keeping do you do, daily, weekly, monthly, yearly? Are your house-keeping chores mostly handy-man related, or general upkeep? Do you get upset when you are asked to perform a chore? Do you get upset when a woman has forgotten to perform a chore, and are unwilling to listen to why she may have? Do you do any menu planning, any cooking, any laundry? Would you take care of your house-hold chores and duties in a timely manner if a woman wasn’t around to pick up after you and remind you? When a woman in your life gets upset that you don’t participate in chores, how upset do you get? Do you compare your career work to house-work, do you use it as an excuse to get out of house-work?

How often has a woman co-worker had to work twice has hard to receive recognition for the same work you do? How often has a woman co-worker come to work sick, because if she called-out, she would be called lazy, but if you call-out, your illness is validated? What is your role at your place of work, compared to that of the women?

How many times have you desired a child, or even asked a woman to bear a child for you, without understanding the permanent physiological, psychological, and spiritual changes a woman experiences through pregnancy and motherhood? How often have you volunteered to change a diaper, to prep and feed a baby a bottle, to take a squalling child? How often have you volunteered to watch children for a woman in your life so that she can have some peace, some time for herself, away from her children? How often are you trusted to mind children the way the mother sees fit? Have you volunteered to use birth-control, including but not limited to condoms, hormonal birth control, and/or vasectomies?

How often have the women in your life prepared a party, and prepared the food for a party, that you happily engaged guests at, and how often have you volunteered to assist either in prep or in tidying the after-glow? How many marches and protests have you attended? How many have you organized? How are you contributing to the spread of knowledge of the miscarriage of justice since 2016?

How often have you felt jilted by a “no.”? How often have you pursued a woman, even though she expressed little to no interest, either expressly or only in an implied way (because, let’s face it, a lot of women are frightened of expressly saying they aren’t interested)? How often have you pressured a partner, dogged her from her “no”, that may have been shaky, to a maybe that was even shakier, to a yes that was not really a yes? How many times have you pressed for a kiss that was cold, stiff, and unyielding? How often did you do this to strangers, to friends that are ambiguous about where you stand, to committed partners?

How often have you been passed over for a job, or a promotion, because you are a man? How often have you reported a woman co-worker for harassment or assault? Do your woman co-workers make you uncomfortable anywhere other than in your pants?

Was your university class life interrupted by woman professors making you uncomfortable? Did you avoid classes that were predominantly populated by women? Did you choose a major because your “man-ness” would be unwelcome in the professional field your major would be used in?

What have you sacrificed to avoid conflict with the women in your life? What would you be doing if you didn’t have women in your life?

Remember, before you go key-board warrior, think about this. This about the current state of affairs. The sitting president is an alleged abuser, user, and accused of assault. He appointed a man who demonstrably illustrated that the accusations against him are more than founded, and he is not even close to level-headed enough for a judgeship on the highest appellate court in the United States.

Think about how you have engaged in behaviours that persist this toxicity. Think about how you have affected change to stop engaging in those behaviours, and replace them with healthier behaviours. Before you shout, just think. I’ve thought; I’ve affected change; I’m in therapy; I’m on meds. I’ve forgiven, but not forgotten, those that have assaulted me. I now make men in my life accountable for their words and actions.

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