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donnerpartyofone · 1 year ago

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I don't know when this started happening, but it seems like I increasingly cannot get certain medications by just going to my pharmacy anymore. There's a whole bunch of stuff that my doctors now have to (for some reason) route through a "specialty phramacy", which is actually a startup-y online business with a cute little app I have to use, and they take care of both delivery (meaning every time I need my meds I have to add $5 to the price tag in order to tip the delivery guy, since I can't just go to a place and I refuse to not tip) and also they seem to have a lock on insurance pre-approvals, like if my insurance company needs an OK they can't or won't get it straight from my doctor anymore. In June, I didn't deal with any of these companies, just my regular old pharmacy. As of a month later, I have to deal with THREE of these "specialty pharmacies" if I want all my meds, so I have to keep track of different apps and logins for individual scripts basically. And I mean, TWO of these companies are connected to ONE of my doctors, so that's how well this whole thing is going. Here's today's adventure with the latest one of these things:

I get a text message from the actual physical pharmacy (also new to me) compounding my new medication, and the message includes a link to log into the specialty pharmacy so I can pay for the medication and schedule delivery. The specialty pharm is called Nimble. I open the link in a browser and get all the way to the part where I give them my email address "so we can send you your receipt", and I can't go any further because apparently my email address is already attached to an existing account. It wasn't clear to me that I was setting up a new account, I thought I was just completing a transaction...and also I don't remember Nimble, but I guess I must have used them a long time ago, so ok fine, I'll start over and try to log in first. Now the text message link just opens an error page. So I go to Nimble's home page and try to log in from there, and it asks for my email address so it can send me a "magic link". Every single magic link it sends me is preemptively "expired", and it also appears that I'm not actually getting a new one when I request it, it kinda looks like they're just forwarding the first email over and over again? 15 minutes later I receive a text telling me to download the Nimble app, which I REALLY don't want to do just on principle--plus apparently the app shows fucking ads, so they're getting paid to force me to do this--but like, maybe this is the only way to get my medicine? I won't even describe all the complications I had just downloading the app, we can just skip to the part where the inside of the app is exactly the same as the browser version and it is magically sending me the same expired "magic link". So I click into the help chat thing in the app, and I learn that:

Whenever the fuck I used Nimble before, it was under my maiden name. My email address is locked to my maiden name. My current script is under my married name. I am still using the same email address, but there is no technical way to merge the accounts and apparently there is no way for a customer to simply update the spelling of their own name that they use in real life, even though this might have to happen at any time for many reasons including typos. I could have given them my private email address instead of the old one that I give to scammy businesses when I'm forced to, but since WHY THE FUCK would I do that, the solution was for customer service to go into the back end and put a fake email address in my old account, and add my real email address to the new account. No online account I've ever had has been set up like this, where you can't put in your email address or phone number and update something like a password. There was also no way for me to independently enter my name first, even though that is the key unchanging piece of information the way phone/email is normally, and ultimately, there was no way for me to find out what the problem even was without like penetrating to the center of the labyrinth to have it explained to me why I wasn't allowed to get my meds.

I'm on Tumblr like 24/7 and it's obvious that I'm no luddite, but I'm really angry that the whole world has bought into the idea that as long as some system is based on new technology, then it is automatically more efficient and superior to whatever we used to do. This entire experience is NOT superior to me physically walking to my pharmacy and getting all my meds, and it is STILL NOT superior to me calling the physical pharmacy to pay over the phone and book a courier. We need to stop pretending that shit like this is making our lives better just because it feels shiny and new; now it's just like, if I wanna do something totally normal that I'm dependent on doing--like getting drugs that I might need to live as far as all these assholes know--I have to appease some 3rd party alien entity that does not contribute in any way to the success of the process or the quality of the outcome, it's just this random extra burden that takes so long to get through that they should honestly pay me to do it. Because right now I'm fucking sitting here doing this shit like it's my job, and it absolutely is not.

In this case customer service was actually helpful when I finally got to them, but basically they shouldn't have been necessary at all. Everything else about the situation was so fucked up that it reminded me of the single worst customer service experience I've ever had: I used to have a REALLY shitty Lenovo laptop (I didn't realize that "basic" and "simple" now just means "doesn't work"), and one day the Start menu got stuck open. It was fully expanded across my entire desktop, so I couldn't get to any of my shit. I had to spend about an hour talking to a service person who, it turned out, had NO IDEA what I meant by "desktop". I could not get the idea into her mind. I did a screenshare with her and she was like "Yeah I see all your applications, everything is there, what's the problem?" I could not get her to understand that it was INCORRECT for the menu to be permanently open and I couldn't get her to understand what it was blocking. I found myself typing crazy shit like "So the Desktop is like, ya know, it usually has a picture you picked out as the background, and there's little icons for programs you use or stuff you downloaded, there's always the little trashcan thing there..." and she just would not admit that she knew what I meant. It was as if she had never used a computer before. And like I don't even remember how I fixed the problem, I stopped using that machine obviously--but to this very day, there's a part of my brain exclusively devoted to running an endless background process that asks, "What's the best way to describe a computer desktop display to someone who has never seen or heard of one before?"

#yes i know i could have gotten to all my shit through a file navigator but THAT'S NOT THE POINT

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kadoodles-on-ao3 · 2 years ago

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Hey there!! Thank you for the kind ask (this is Zanthe's "Main" blog) I didn't want to reply to it directly because i'd like to keep it in my inbox to treasure, but I wanted to say thank you. It truly means a lot!

We are 🤝 over rarepairs in this tiny little fandom, though I do admit I love the anonymity nowadays! I've been here for years and it's very comfortable and nice being an older, more obscure artist lol.

I do recommend at the very least, sitting down and writing down your amv ideas. There are many i've never drawn, but i have a ton written down to chip away at the day I have the energy to, and it's very good to keep those ideas with you, i hope you're able to realize them one day, I'd love to see them!

Also, I'm glad my checklist can be of help!! If you're curious, it took about 4 days to make it, in which i was completely hyperfixated on it!spreadsheets my beloved. Good luck on your project!! If you'd ever like to chat, feel free to send a message ^w^ have a lovely day

Oh!! Of course, I'm glad it made you happy! To hear you liked it so much you want to preserve it is really touching and made me smile, thank you! :>

(I hope it's alright that I'm replying to your ask directly, if not let me know and I'll take this down and copy-paste what I said below to you in a DM if you'd like!)

Haha it's really true that rarepair fans are like their own group that crosses fandoms and/or specific ships, a little subculture inside a subculture of a subculture :)

I definitely can't blame you for not wanting a lot of attention since I feel the same way, I'd be terrified to be a big name haha.

Oh I really appreciate the advice! The fact that you think my ideas are worth preserving is very kind of you haha :) I'm very much the type who gets random inspiration at 3 AM or while eating dinner, and would otherwise forget my epiphanies if I didn't write them down. So ever since I was a kid I made a habit of it! Although back then I used pencil and paper haha, but now I have a 22-page-long semi-organized google doc. The AMV outlines are in there somewhere! Knowing there's even one person out there who wants to see something I've made or plan to make is an incredible feeling, thank you so much ;v;

Anyway, how did you learn to animate and make AMVs? And what drawing software do you use? If you don't mind me asking of course!

Oh thank you again for that checklist!! Wow 4 days seems like nothing compared to how extensive it is, that's amazing! I've been working on my own Xenoblade excel sheet project for a long time now, and it took me months and months to get that near completion. But if you're much better at organizing/planning than I am it saves a ton of time, I went through like 3 major restructurings of stuff that took days to finish... only to redo everything like a week later haha

And you're also very kind to read my silly tags and wish me luck on my project!! (It's a different one from before haha, that one is a comprehensive list of when all the party members' and bosses' voice lines play and under what circumstances. I'll be making it public on the upcoming anniversary!) For this other one, it's a challenge run of XC1 of sorts! But I have a dumb irrational fear that if I go into detail about what it is, someone else will swoop in before I get a chance to do it myself and take the world-first credit of it hahaha. But one day I will do it, I really want to, and your checklist will be immensely super helpful in planning my route and keeping track of everything, so thank you again! And thank you again (again) for this wonderful message, it really brightened my whole day! :))

#ask #i am once again nervous at intimidating the poor people who send me asks by typing a novel in response #but at the same time unable to stop myself lol #every time i get an ask it makes my day though!!#especially one as long and as kind as this one!! and from someone whose art i've loved for so much time as well!! :)

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mycrofts-gunbrella · 3 years ago

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Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part 11)

A/N- Okay so this is just a short 2k fill in chapter! It’s kinda cute and kinda sad but it was too long to add to the last chapter, and it doesn’t fit in with the theme of the next chapter (though it sets it up quite nicely!). The next chapter is likely going to be a bit angsty but I promise it’ll have a rewarding ending to it! I hope to have it written and up sooner rather than later but, until then, enjoy this little piece.

Word Count- 2028

The ten minute drive from Baker Street to the Natural History Museum went by in a flash- most of it being spent by Mycroft giving you a mental tour of the building's various rooms and the 'most appropriate route to take'. Though it did also take a minute or two for you to convince him to not get everybody kicked out for a private visit, no matter how many people were there.. Admittedly, you hadn't been to the museum for 6 years or so now- after living so long in London it feels less of a luxury being only round the corner from it- but walking through the doors made you feel like a child again. Entry to the museum was free, but that didn't mean you didn't see Mycroft swiftly pushing a few notes into the donation bin at the front before guiding you forwards. Glancing up, you eyed the blue whale skeleton that hung from the ceiling and frowned. Mycroft caught your look and spoke up.

"Ah yes, Hope has been a relatively recent addition to the museum. She was found dead on an Irish beach back in 1891. It's a rather beautiful marvel to gaze upon, though, large as she is, she doesn't quite fill the hole in my heart that was left after my beloved Dippy was removed." Your eyes scanned the skeleton of the large mammal once more before looking back at Mycroft. "I did try to convince the board to keep the diplodocus somewhere but all attempts were futile. There's only so much force you can put into such a topic without exposing yourself as-"

"As a man who loves dinosaur bones more than he loves people?" Mycroft shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed.

"The very thing." Lifting your arm, you rested your hand at the crook of Mycroft's elbow to encourage him to move on.

"When we get home and have dinner we can raise a toast in Dippy's honour.. but for now, my mind's been taken over by that huge statue of Darwin." And the pair of you headed off, your hand very much staying place at Mycroft's arm as you wandered through the rooms- Mycroft more than willing to reel off facts about every deceased animal of history and, more often than not, even impressing the workers with his spiel of facts. Though you were very much enjoying wandering aimlessly through the room of human evolution, you most definitely noticed the pull from the man beside you as he was eager to reach his beloved dino-pals. As you turned the corner into the slightly darkened dinosaur room, you tripped over your feet slightly as you felt Mycroft stop in his tracks, his eyes wide and taking everything in. He looked as happy as a boy at Christmas and, quite frankly, it was adorable. You nudged him slightly when he still didn't move. "You okay?"

"Sorry, it just seems as though, no matter how many times I come here, it always feels like the first." He had shaken his head as though to bring his thoughts back to focus before taking a few steps into the gallery and leading you over to the skeletal remains of a Baryonyx. "The name Baryonyx roughly translates to 'Heavy Claw' from the Ancient Greek's 'Barys' meaning heavy and 'onyx' being claw or talon." He spoke, his voice smooth and relaxed as his fingers brushed over the board that announced the name of the creature within the glass. "It was also an excellent swimmer which it would use to its advantage while hunting." You listened to his every word as he spoke, grinning as he excitedly told you how many teeth it had and it's preferred techniques for capturing food before he moved you onto the next one.

"Oh these beauties have always been my favourite." You almost whispered, taking in the sight of the huge triceratops skull. You barely noticed Mycroft's hand shift from his pocket until you felt the heat of his palm against the small of your back, fingers squeezing slightly by your hip as he spoke.

"Mine too. Sherlock used to say they were boring and that we might as well have gone to the zoo to look at rhinos. He ended up spending 5 months trying to prove that the rhinos were descendants from the triceratops and then avoided me for 3 weeks when he realised there was no connection at all."

"That sounds about right. Though I can't imagine Sherlock enjoying it here very much anyway.." Mycroft began to guide you to a small bench just off the side to sit down, still giving you the view of the beautiful dinosaur bones.

"He didn't. When we were much younger he would kick off until Mummy and Father would tell us it's time to go and I had to go with them.. Then as we got a little older and Sherlock properly found his legs, he would simply run from the doors round to the science museum. Of course mummy and father had to follow him as he was so young, but one time I decided to stay here. They didn't realise I hadn't followed them until it was time to go home 5 hours later." Mycroft spoke quietly.

"Found his legs? That's at, what, four? Five? How young were you?"

"I was 9 the first time, I think." Now, Mycroft, you don't just 'think'; you know. Your hand moved to rest above his own on his knee, brushing your thumb fondly over his knuckles. "But it isn't all bad. Some of my best days as a child were spent here, and a lot of the staff were very kind and would teach me extra facts that weren't displayed. There was one gentleman who even gave me his own copies of some books that they had here. I'd wander the whole museum in time but I always found myself back here on this bench just.. watching. This room felt more like home than my very house sometimes. It was the room where I could escape the real world and find peace. Eventually Mummy, Father and Sherlock stopped bothering with the visits because Sherlock found the science museum boring after he'd prove them wrong on something each time, but I'd still pop back in on occasion without them.. Coming to think about it, I've never actually brought anybody here with me at all." You squeezed at his fingers and settled back into the bench.

"Well I am incredibly glad that I found out about your little interest, and I feel even more honoured that you let me come here with you." You beamed. And it was the truth. Evidently, this little museum meant much more to Mycroft than you could have ever imagined and it warmed your heart to know that he trusted you to see him nerd out over some bones.

"Eventually I used this very building as the scaffolding to build my mind palace. My files on Sherlock, very appropriately, are nestled in the human biology room. But most people's information is either stored in the entrance, where Dippy remains over Hope, might I add, or in a few of the rooms I find less interesting.." You didn't have to ask to know he was referencing 'that room with all the bloody rocks'. "I love most of the galleries too much to taint them with information on people that aren't important. The likes of Gregory and Doctor Watson now reside in Hintze Hall as the years have passed." His eyes remained focused in front of him, unblinking, as though he was wandering the very halls at that moment.

"And where.. where are my files?" You had to ask, really. Since he was on the subject anyway. "If you've put them in the marine reptiles room when you know I'm terrified of the ocean I shall never forgive you." Mycroft's hand flipped beneath yours so the pads of your fingers brushed before he blinked and looked over to you, a small smile on his face.

"Here." Oh. Well that's.. something. You shifted to give him a quick kiss on his cheek, knowing he wasn't overly fond of PDA and tugged him to stand.

"And on that note, I think we should go and grab some lunch before you make me cry in front of the dinosaurs."

---

After lunch, you both spent a few more hours walking from room to room (and of course circling round to the dinosaur gallery again) before you decided to call it a day at 4pm. Before departing, you headed towards the toilets that happened to be beside the little gift shop and you had a browse while Mycroft was occupied. Grinning, you picked up a deep blue plush triceratops and stroked a finger across its back. It was just small enough that, after purchasing, you could hide the little guy in the loose fabric of the sweatshirt you wore, acting innocent as you waited back outside near the wall. After going to the bathroom yourself, the pair of you headed outside where a car was waiting for you. Sliding in the back seat, you couldn't contain your little gift anymore.

"Surprise!" You laughed, producing the small toy from under your clothes and into the hands of the man beside you. He studied it briefly before beginning to laugh himself as he reached into his inner pocket and handed you the matching dinosaur, though purple in colour. "God, we're such children aren't we?" You noted as you swapped plushie companions, each of you brushing a finger on its nose as though it were a small pet. "I daren't think what your colleagues would say if they knew you were now the proud owner of a baby triceratops teddy that's.." You glanced at the tag. "..Suitable for children aged 12 months plus!"

"Probably nothing as bad as if they realised said triceratops was going to take proud placement on my desk at home." He beamed. "Thank you, this really does mean a great deal to me." You knew he wasn't just talking about the toy that rolled around his long fingers and you shifted to rest your head lightly on his shoulder.

"We can come back any time. I, for one, know I'll never get bored of looking through the galleries.. Or I'll never get bored of watching you light up as we walk through said galleries. Either or works, really." He hummed in response, his emotions slightly overwhelmed from the day and its revelations into his past. "Plus there were about 10 other little dinos in the shop and I've always been one to want a full collection.. so, if we pace ourselves, that's at least 10 more trips."

"13.. Although that could be tripled if we take the colour variations into account."

"Oh, of course! Can't half-arse a collection or it's just pointless."

"I concur."

"That's settled then. Almost 40 more trips to finish off our collection.. And thennnn we can move onto the figurines." Mycroft let out a laugh beside you and tilted to rest his head atop yours for the remainder of the journey home.

---

The evening between you was shared over a meal (where, as promised, a small toast was made to the memory of Sir Dippy) before Mycroft sat to finish the papers for Greg. Eventually you collapsed into bed at a relatively reasonable time, groaning at the throbbing in your legs from the day's adventure before finally slipping into rest.

---

The next day passed relatively quickly. The morning was spent visiting Greg in his office to drop off the papers before the pair of you took a small stroll through the streets of London. Eventually, Mycroft and yourself even got a text message from Sherlock giving a (albeit half-arsed) apology for his behaviour the day before and the rest of the day was spent in bliss. That was until exactly 17 minutes after you got back home when Mycroft's mobile began to ring. He swallowed deeply, showing you the caller ID of the person he had been dreading to speak to post-Eurus and answering.

"Ah, yes.. Hello, Mummy."

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potionsprefect · 4 years ago

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Right Place, Right Moment

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: There’s something on Ethan’s mind...

Rating: General Audiences

Category: fluff

Ethan could hear the thrashing of rain and the loud clapping of thunder outside. But that wasn’t what woke him up.

Instead, it was the feeling of a warm body on top of his, the feeling of gentle kisses against his jaw making him hum in delight. Ethan opened his eyes to see Victoria peering down at him, eyes shining bright and with a big smile on her face.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise.” Ethan said as he pulled Victoria closer so she was laying next to him.

“I think it’s the best way to wake up.” Victoria smiled.

“I won’t disagree with you there.” Ethan replied leaning down to press a soft kiss against Victoria’s lips.

“So what do you want to do today? I’m thinking we just stay in our pyjamas and do nothing.”

“I agree. It’s been a long week and all I want is to just spend my time with you.” Ethan replied wrapping an arm around Victoria’s shoulders.

“Ditto.” Victoria snuggled into Ethan’s chest.

“We should get some breakfast.” Ethan said.

“Shower first. Then I can put on clean pyjamas.” Victoria said climbing out of bed. “Well? Aren’t you going to join me?”

Ethan didn’t need telling twice. He jumped out of bed and hurried to Victoria’s side, closing the en-suite bathroom door in an instant.

— — — — —

One very long shower later, (that didn’t involve much washing) Ethan and Victoria were washing up their breakfast things in the kitchen.

Well, Ethan was.

“I wonder if there is anything good on TV today.” Victoria said, flicking idly through a magazine.

“It’s Sunday sweetheart. Which means it’s race day.”

“Are we gonna have to watch it all day?” Victoria whined.

“Nothing comes between me and the motor racing.” Ethan shrugged.

“Do I actually come second to formula one? That’s actually kind of hilarious.” Victoria laughed a little.

“Only every other Sunday. The rest of the time I’m yours completely.” Ethan chuckled bringing Victoria into his embrace.

He took her by the hand and led them to the couch, sitting down first so Victoria could lean back into his embrace, Ethan wrapped his arms around her as Victoria snuggled against his chest.

“How long have you been a fan of formula one?” Victoria asked.

“Since I was a kid. I’ve always loved cars and the excitement is always great to watch.” Ethan replied.

“Dad and Will like it as well. I’ve never been particularly bothered.” Victoria shrugged. “So who are we routing for today?”

Ethan grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, finding the correct channel where the race was. As he found it, the cars were lining up on the track.

“See the bright red cars? The ones in 4th and 5th? That’s who we want.” Ethan gestured to the TV.

“Okay. And who are they?”

“Sebastian Vettel and Charles Leclerc.”

“Are they the best?”

“Vettel is. But the one who will probably win is the one right at the front Lewis Hamilton. He’s currently leading the championship.”

The cars started to move off their positions, all swarming round the track. Victoria had a hard time keeping up with them. She could feel Ethan tensing up against her.

“Who knew a sport could work you up to much.” Victoria teased looking up at him.

“It’s exciting Rookie.”

“Even the interns don’t frustrate you as much.” Victoria laughed.

“That’s a different kind of frustration.” Ethan replied.

“Talk to me. What’s happening here?” Victoria looked at the screen.

“Well to no surprise, Hamilton is leading, he does have the best car, then his teammate is behind him, then the two Ferrari’s.” Ethan explained.

“Who’s the car behind them?”

“That’s Max Verstappen and Red Bull.”

“Oh I’ve heard that name before. I think Bryce likes them. I overheard him talking about him once.”

“They’ve never won a championship. Max has a bit of a hot temper.” Ethan said.

Suddenly on the screen, two of the cars collided and they were sent spinning. Debris scattered the track as the tyres rolled in all directions.

“Oh my god!” Victoria covered her eyes as the crash was replayed in slow motion.

“It’s okay Vic, they’re okay. Look, they’re climbing out of their cars.” Ethan chuckled rubbing Victoria’s arm gently.

Victoria looked through fingertips and saw the two drivers involved in the crash getting out of their cars and walking away from the scene.

“How did they escape from that?” Victoria asked.

“F1 cars are built to be as safe as possible.” Ethan replied.

Victoria watched the drivers walk off the track, recognising one of them.

“Wait! That’s...”

“Vettel. Yep. And Verstappen. It was the latter’s fault.” Ethan shrugged.

“Looks like your favourite team aren’t gonna win today.”

“Leclerc is still there. Although Hamilton looks unstoppable today.”

“I like Hamilton. Not the musical, the driver. He has a nice car.” Victoria said.

Ethan laughed tightening his arms around her. “God I love you.”

Both froze. Victoria’s eyes widened. Did she hear him correctly? Did he just say that he loved her?

Ethan could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to say those words for a long time, but his plan was something along the lines of the opera and then dinner.

“Did I hear that right?” Victoria sat up to look at him.

“I may have had a better plan than to say it like that.” Ethan replied.

“Oh yeah? And what did that involve?” Victoria smirked as she straddled him.

“Something to do with the opera and then dinner. Maybe over dessert?” Ethan chuckled.

“That sounds lush. But I preferred how you said it now. And I should say it back. I love you too.” Victoria smiled.

Ethan felt as if he was on cloud nine. Knowing actions spoke louder than words, he leaned forward to press his lips to Victoria’s, his hands finding their way into her messy blonde locks as hers wrapped around his neck.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.” Ethan broke apart, resting his forehead against Victoria’s.

“Believe me, I’ve wanted to say it for a long time. I just didn’t want to pressure you. It took you forever for you to act on your feelings, I didn’t want to make you feel like I was rushing you.”

Ethan answered with another kiss, a softer and more gentler one.

“Falling in love with you was the best thing to have ever happened to me.” Ethan smiled.

“Really?” Victoria said, eyes glistening with emotion.

“Really Vic. I couldn’t think of a better person to have by my side for the rest of my life.”

Victoria snuggled back against Ethan’s chest, feeling safe and secure as his ran his hand through her blonde hair.

“Oh look, Hamilton is 5 seconds ahead.”

Ethan laughed. “He is the best driver after all.”

“Maybe we should go to a Grand Prix one day. Then I can see you in your natural habitat.” Victoria said.

“I thought my natural habitat was at the hospital?” Ethan replied.

“After this, I’m retracting that statement. Seeing Ethan Ramsey getting excited over cars is definitely much more exciting. Then again it does play to the whole boys and their toys stereotypes.” Victoria laughed.

“I’ll take that over shouting at interns. Natural habitats are supposed to be fun.”

“And here’s me thinking you did find shouting at interns fun. Guess I didn’t know you as well as I thought I did.” Victoria laughed pressing a kiss to his cheek.

The couple laid on the sofa as they continued to watch the race, completely content and safe with each other. It seemed like the race went on for hours before finally, the first car passed the checkered flag.

“Hamilton won!” Victoria smiled.

“Told you he would. Completely uneventful.” Ethan rolled his eyes with a small smile.

“I still find it all confusing. It’s so technical. You’ll have to explain it again to me in the future.” Victoria said.

“It could take a while.” Ethan chuckled.

“I’m a great listener and you have a nice voice so it’s very unlikely I’ll fall asleep.”

Ethan laughed as he leant down to kiss Victoria.

“I’m glad you like my voice Rookie.”

“One of the many things I love about you.”

Ethan tightened his arms around the woman he loved as she snuggled up to him. If he spent the rest of his life explaining one of his passions, he was glad Victoria would be the one listening.

I can’t find the anon who sent the ask but I realised I haven’t written a proper ‘ily’ fic so I thought I’d give it a go!

Let me know if you would like to be tagged or removed

Tag list: @ohchoices @openheartfan @queencarb @genevievemd @iemcpbchoices @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @alina-yol-ramsey @stygianflood @malakemads-blog @gryffindordaughterofathena @openheartfanfics @rookie-ramsey @sophxwithers @romewritingshop @ethansramsey @codykosuckmytoe @mrsethanfreakingramsey @coffeeheartaddict @mm2305 @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @nishas-paradise @replayfootsteps @mainstreetreader @anntoldst0ries @aleynareads @lsvdw-blog @kiara-36 @quixoticdreamer16 @helloayz @udishaman

@choicesficwriterscreations

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke #Ethan x Victoria #playchoices #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #choices: open heart #fanfic #fluff #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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mulderist · 4 years ago

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Wicked Game

Previous chapter || Read on A03 || tagging @today-in-fic

CHAPTER 9

Hegal Place

Alexandria, VA

My footfalls echoed down the hallway as I approached the front door. With a firm push it swung open and I descended the short brick staircase to the sidewalk. I surveyed the familiar rowhomes across the street; small front yards bordered by thin wrought iron fences. A small child was being led by the hand down the steps of one brownstone. I waited for the kid and her mother to walk up the block then I chose the opposite direction. An older model Packard chugged down the otherwise quiet street, coughing an exhaust smoke signal as it passed. That driver should probably see his mechanic sooner rather than later.

As I walked I felt my holster sticking into my right ribs, suppose that’s what I get for hastily slipping it on. It was enough of an annoyance to force me to focus on the task at hand; finding Alex Krycek. The steady afternoon breeze brought in clouds but not enough to predict rain. I still had a few hours before sunset and wished for a drier evening than my previous outing. I sighed and hoped Scully found herself a cab.

A dog bark caught my attention and I saw an excited yellow Labrador happily wagging a tail at an average looking man. As I moved to get a better view I saw the dog connected to a leash being held by a young woman. The average man gave the dog a gentle pat on the head and must have felt my stare because he straightened up and let the woman and her furry companion pass by. I knew it was him by the way he watched the woman walk away. Krycek slipped his hands into his pockets and stood firm on the spot. I ran through a dozen different scenarios of how I would approach him; close-quarters-combat, a strong right hook, or a simple shot to the leg. I honestly didn’t want to draw too much attention. The challenge was having a conversation without sounding like two territorial alleycats. Right as I finished my thought, Krycek took off around the corner.

I swore to myself and tightly gripped the butt of my gun as I followed in pursuit. A footrace was certainly not where I wanted this to go. My lungs burned while my feet pounded against the sidewalk, a stern reminder that I needed to resume my visits to the campus track. There was a flash of a jacket down what I assumed was an alleyway. I slowed my pace and found a proper hold on my gun. I pressed against the brick wall, careful to hide my position until the right moment. Like so many times before I took a deep inhale and with the exhale I glanced around the corner. I ducked back to avoid Krycek’s fist, then I charged forward pushing him farther into the alley. He stumbled and tried a quick jab to my stomach. I tightened up right as he made contact and in return I let my gun give him a kiss on the cheek. Krycek doubled over and spat on the ground. With both hands I grabbed him by the shirt I tossed him against the wall, the tip of my Browning wedged into his abdomen.

“You know as well as I do that a bullet to the gut is a slow way to go,” I said with my left arm braced across his chest, “So you better talk.”

“Well that’s a fine how-do-you-do,” Krycek grumbled with a crimson smile. I quickly frisked him, found his Walther and relieved him of it. I pressed my weapon back into his stomach then said,

“A little birdie told me you were at Washington General earlier today.”

“Is that so?” he mumbled.

“Cut the shit, Krycek,” I responded, applying more pressure to his chest, inching my forearm closer to his throat. He choked out a laugh,

“The redhead! Ah Mulder you sure can pick ‘em.”

“Leave her out of this!” My gun pressed harder into the soft surface of his abdomen. I saw him wince and I twisted my hand hoping I found a nerve,

“Damnit,” he hissed, “I only gave her some friendly advice.”

“Stay away from her,” I growled. He shook his head disapprovingly with a limited range of movement.

“Oh now I get it. You’re sweet on her, aren’t you --ah! -- jesus!” His assumption was cut short thanks in part to my weapon stabbing him in between the ribs. I cocked my gun and felt my jaw clench as he struggled.

“Red got herself involved when she worked on that autopsy,” Krycek sputtered.

I eased up a bit, put the hammer back down but still held my aim.

“What do you mean? Who was the stiff?” I asked, uncertain if I was going to get a truthful answer. He swallowed and licked his lips.

“A nobody by all accounts.”

“Then what’s the big deal?” I shrugged and felt like this was starting to become a waste of my time.

“The body wasn’t disposed of properly. He never should have ended up at the hospital morgue.”

Finally, some clarity. It’s as though the sea of confusion was at low tide, revealing an answer like shells on the shore. I witnessed it myself that night at the Navy Yard. They thought the cabbie would just float downriver and disappear. Now they wanted to cover their tracks as soon as that body washed up near the marina. Scully was just doing her job in the wrong place at the wrong time. Scully. I had to get back to the precinct.

“Are we done, Mulder?” Krycek asked, breaking my concentration. My attention snapped back as he was fixing his shirt.

“Not quite,” I said as I tentatively put my gun back in the holster, “I want to know one other thing; tell me your connection to Spender.”

“Spender?” Krycek’s voice was now hampered with a slur, “God, I am so tired of hearing that name.”

“Talk.”

“It’s like I told you before,” he gestured, “Spender was a hophead. Got a taste of the stuff when he was investigating Vincenti. Do you remember that tip I sold you about four months ago? Turns out your partner wanted to have a private meeting with Vincenti’s second in command. Detective Spender dealt himself right into the drug game on the government’s dime.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Because,” Krycek coughed out, “Carlo Lodi told me.”

My mind worked like playing cards being shuffled, each revelation waterfalled onto another until the deck was stacked.

“You told Lodi to put the hit on Spender,” I said pointedly.

“I’m a snitch,” he stated a little too simply for my taste. “Frankly I had had enough of being the information errand boy, so I sold him out. Your partner thought he could muscle in on Vincenti’s pushers and try to expand the trade routes, so to speak. The elder Spender got wise and to keep things kosher with Vincenti and his boys, he ordered a hit.”

“Wait a minute. Did you say Spender’s father?”

“Who do you think helps keep the peace?” he replied rhetorically. I thought for a moment and chided myself for not seeing far enough up the ladder.

“Whose side are you on, Krycek?”

“My own,” he curtly answered, “I don’t care if the mob kills the whole lot of you.”

“As long as you get box seats to the show,” I said. He chuckled and spit a trail of red once again onto the pavement. There wasn’t much more I could add. No more interrogation to give. I returned his Walther and left the alley.

------

After a less than ideal cab ride, I arrived at the precinct and bypassed the front desk, heading straight for the stairwell. As I descended the steps I tried to think of how I would untangle this web I found myself in. I never fully trusted Krycek, apparently Spender did. The new information was swirling in my head and I needed to pin down the facts before I approached Skinner. But first I needed to talk to Frohike and the boys.

The door to their department was ajar, sending a quick surge of adrenaline to my chest. I pushed the door open further and entered the lab, relieved when I saw Langley flipping through a thick-bound book.

“You guys should really put a lock on that door,” I began, “never know what’ll wander in here.”

He chuckled and quipped that instead I should have a bell around my neck so they’d know when I was coming. I asked if Scully had arrived and he directed me around the corner where I practically bowled over Frohike, who clutched a blanket to his chest. I raised an eyebrow.

“I uh -- this was for our guest,” Frohike said softly. I reached over and he relinquished it, then I gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder. Scully was curled into the threadbare sofa, she looked exhausted. It surprised me to see an actual piece of furniture in the lab, though I’m sure they needed something other than an army cot for those overnight cases. I unfolded the blanket and gently laid it over her sleeping frame. The sudden weight caused Scully to stir, eyelashes fluttered against the makeshift pillow of her hand. I crouched down and heard a hum escape her lips.

“Glad you made it,” she said with eyes still closed.

“True to my word,” I replied. She turned her head away from her hand and slowly blinked open her eyes.

“Did you find him?”

“I did. We had a friendly chat and a smoke.”

“What actually happened?” she asked, voice heavy with sleep.

“He took a swing at me and I shoved him into an alley; he won’t bother you again. As it turns out, my former informant has his finger in just about every dish on the crime buffet.” I tried to adjust the blanket which had slipped down her shoulder but her arm snaked out, fingers pressed tenderly against my forearm.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Rest for a little bit. I’ll be back,” I left her with a kiss on the forehead then went to round up the boys.

Langley passed by and I gestured for him and Frohike to join me, moving towards the exam tables on the opposite side of the lab. Byers suddenly emerged from the front door with a binder in hand and I waved him over as he muttered something about a body coming in for autopsy.

“Mulder you look like something’s on your mind,” Frohike said.

“Krycek was the one who confronted Scully at the hospital,” I relayed, “After twisting some truth out of him, he told me the body she did an autopsy on should never have been found. He can’t be trusted.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Langley, scratching at a blonde temple.

“I need to give a report to Skinner, he needs to know it was Krycek that put the hit out on Spender.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph it was all true,” Byers exclaimed as he folded his arms.

“We still need to find out who killed Lodi and his henchman,” I said, running a hand over my neck, “It had to come from whoever is at the top of the food chain.”

“Do you think Krycek could actually be pulling the strings? I mean he’s basically been lying to you from the start,” Frohike countered, pushing the bridge of his glasses back up his nose. I nearly laughed aloud but thought long and hard at the potential of Krycek being a crime boss. It would be a hell of a curve ball to try and take a swing at. Langley, Byers, and Frohike exchanged looks as I continued to ponder the question.

“No,” I said, “but I appreciate the creativity. He isn’t loyal to either the DCPD or Vincenti’s mafia family. The profile I’ve developed is that he’s a man who would just like to sit back and watch the city burn.”

The shrill sound of a telephone ring interrupted our conversation. It continued until Frohike broke away to answer it. I heard him agree with the party on the other line, then he shot a glance in my direction. He nodded then quickly hung up.

“The Captain must have a sixth sense or have a bug somewhere down here,” Frohike said as he walked back over.

“I certainly hope we’re not bugged,” Byers responded with a quick look up at the ceiling.

“He wants me upstairs?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Double time,” quipped Frohike. I rolled my shoulders and as I turned to leave I heard a new voice say,

“Leaving so soon.”

The boys seemed to scatter, save for Frohike who was glued to the spot when Scully stepped into the main area of the lab. Her stark white nurse uniform fit a little too perfectly amongst the shelves of science and macabre medical arts. She approached me and Frohike got the hint, trying to busy himself with tidying up the counter behind him.

“The boss is requesting my presence,” I told her, “And I’ve got a few things I’d like to say to him as well.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, a look of concern in her eyes, “I could give a statement about what happened.”

“Sorry Scully, this invite is for a party of one.”

“Are you coming back?”

“Planned on it, unless they burn me at the stake.”

“So dramatic,” she shook her head and reached for my hand with slender fingers. With a quick squeeze she added, “As much as you hate to hear this, I’m involved now. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines. Let me help where I can.”

I saw Byers timidly approach out of the corner of my eye.

“Excuse me Miss Scully,” he said with a kind wave, “there is a body due to arrive for an autopsy if you’d like to observe.”

“I’m sure we could use her assistance,” Frohike piped up, “that is, if she wouldn’t mind.”

I tried to think of a jab but she silenced me. She gave a pleasant smile in their direction then leaned a little closer, the faint scent of her perfume hit my senses.

“Go. Don’t want to keep the boss waiting.”

I got caught in her blue eyes, only able to manage a simple nod of agreement. My hand slipped from hers and I left the quiet of the forensic lab, bracing myself for the roar of the bullpen and Captain Skinner.

#i wrote this #historical au #xf fanfic #mulder pov #my fic #noir fiction #hey look an update #xfiles

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dreamydarkblue · 4 years ago

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i promised and waited

| litg, noah x mc |

rating: T

word count: 1315

warning: mild swearing

tagging: @lasswithumor

notes: i always wanted to write Noah but never got around to it. probably because i couldn't finish his route with how frustrating it was. but since i can imagine whatever i want, i imagined a story where they would start over at the reunion but with a twist, of course. i am thinking of making this story multiple chapters but we'll see. for the music, i would suggest still feel it all by MARO.

For Noah there were some things in life that really mattered to him. His family, his books and her. But that ship has sailed away long ago. It was stupid of him to feel these feelings after so long. It has been 5 years since the reunion, since he saw her look him in the eyes with confusion.

She felt cold. Throughout the night he would sneak glances her way but she always turned him down with the turn of her head. After some drinks she couldn't count the numbers of, she got up in his face and gave him a piece of her mind. He deserved it, she has waited for him all through their time in villa and even after it. She was patient, to a point though. Enough was enough, she thought to herself. Why the hell did he come here with Hope? He had promised her. She was so goddamn foolish, it was her fault. She should have known that he wouldn't take that step if it meant protecting Hope's feelings. But what about her feelings? Every time, every hopeful promise, every longing stare, it didn't matter to him. With mascara running down her face, hands balled up next to her sides, she humiliated herself around them. It didn't matter to her anymore too. Or she would act like it to help ease the sorrow and justify her rage. With the last words out of her aching soul, she got out the room that suffocated her.

Noah was conflicted as to what to do. Hope was next to him, baffled by Zane's words and standing still. She looked up at him to see what was he feeling. She saw it in his eyes, Zane was right. She scoffed. Unbelievable, it was. Here she was, the ball between them, passed around to win an argument.

Noah wanted to follow Zane out of the room. Maybe he would beg her and kiss her if she let him. And then he would run away with her, just like in his dreams. He looked at Hope. She knew. He managed to break two hearts tonight, an addition to his own.

"I'm sorry...", he let the tense silence consume everyone.

Hope just shook her head, grabbed two drinks from a nearby table and went out. The whole room was dead silent. Even the music has stopped. The track must have ended. Poetic, he thought.

Hope was trying to find Zane. She needed to talk to her, explain or apologize, just say something to get rid of this guilt in her chest. Because Hope knew this day was going to come, maybe a bit sooner than she wanted. Truth to be told she was aware of how Noah looked at Zane. Sure, she was angry and hurt that it turned out this way, but she knew that Noah and her weren't compatible. She wasn't stupid. He wanted everything she didn't. Some nights she would blame him for it, some nights she would think of ways to break it off. But her pride didn't let her and every single time she continued to hurt them both. She knew it wasn't just her fault but the guilt was telling her maybe she could have prevented this. Then she heard a few long sobs around the corridor, she walked hastily to see Zane on the floor. She was silent but a few sobs managed escape her mouth and she trembled. Hope got down next to her and said, "Fancy one more drink?".

Zane was surprised to find Hope next to her, offering a drink. Her anger bubbled up just for a moment but as she kept looking at Hope, she calmed down. She was better than that to blame her. She took the drink from her hand with her own trembling ones. They drank in silence for a moment. Hope sighed.

"I am sorry, Zane. I really am. I could have stopped you and Noah from hurting tonight but...", her voice got stuck.

"I just couldn't.". There wasn't any excuse she could use and feel okay with. Then she heard a laugh. Zane was laughing next to her like this was anything funny.

"What? I really don't know what's going on... Are you okay?", Hope asked with her hand on Zane's arm.

"It's just so funny to me that once again Noah didn't face his mistakes and both of us has to deal with it again." Zane chuckled.

"Do you know what's the worst though?"

Hope waited a few seconds for her to continue.

"It's not even about him loving me back anymore or him making empty promises, it's the way he always lets others deal with it. Here you are next to me, apologizing. Where is he? I have been waiting for him to build up his courage for a whole year. I gave him my word that I would wait if he promised to do this the right way. And here we are again, all three of us hurt. Does it even matter to him anymore? Do I even matter to him anymore?" Here comes the water works again, she thought.

"I am sorry..." that's all that Hope could say.

"No, you don't need to apologize for him. Ugh, I am sorry that I am putting you through this. Thank you, Hope. I mean it. I hope you find the peace and love you deserve." Zane said as she put her hand on Hope's. She smiled and got up. Hope smiled down at her hand, and started to walk back to the room.

Noah felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked at Rahim. His friend's eyes spoke a thousand words, better than Rahim could have managed to say. He walked out of the room, looking down with tears in his eyes. Just as he turned the corner to walk in the other corridor, Hope stopped him. "Noah...", he couldn't look at her, the shame didn't let him. Hope took his face in her hands and made him look.

"I love you... But we both know this wasn't going to work between us. When we want way too different things from life, when she is always a part of your heart and mind. Go. Go after her. Once in your life, be selfish and don't think about me or others. Think about her and your feelings for her." She caressed his face softly. Tears were pooling around his eyes and going down his face to meet her hands. She kissed him on his cheek and hugged him for the last time as something more than friends. He got out the building and called a taxi.

That night came back to haunt him every now and then. Even after 5 years, he couldn't let her hold on his heart and mind go. He followed her on social media and saw how happy she looked. He figured she didn't think about him anymore. She didn't dream anymore. He did.

So to see her name in his messages was surprising to say the least. After a bit of texting, they decided to meet. He suggested to meet in Romford, maybe it was a bit too much but he wanted show her his hometown. She accepted the offer.

So here he was, waiting for her in Raphael Park. He was nervous, what was she going to say? Did she keep her promise and wait or ran out of patience because of his mistakes?

"Hey Noah!" Zane shouted. It still felt surreal that she was meeting him.

5 years could change so many things. A baby would become a child, a new excitement would become a strong connection, a person would become a tombstone, and things left unsaid would become forgotten.

But he looked at her the same. And matter of fact, she looked at him the same too.

#i promised and waited #litg #litg noah #noah x mc #i hope you like it #let me know what you thought if you want to #inspiration has been hard to come by #but music helps thankfully

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kingofthecon · 4 years ago

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@femmechanceux

#1 "You know what rhymes with Bugaboo? Me and you." It was a pretty boring night of patrolling so naturally Chat Noir decided to fill the air with anything and everything just to keep them both entertained. His vibrant green eyes focused more on the task at hand - keeping an out for trouble - than they did on his partner, but when his eyes did meet her form for an extended period of time he couldn't help but grin. Running around Paris late at night with a lovely lady by his side helped him to forget about his life outside of costume. It helped his mind come up with all sorts of entertaining ideas which drove away all the reality shattering ones that came with common sense - one of the recent things being what'd happen when they finally defeated Hawk Moth. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that one day they would actually catch Hawk Moth slipping and manage to not only take him down and retrieve his Miraculous, but also learn his identity and lock him away forever, but what would come next? They wouldn't be able to keep their Miraculous anymore, would they? Sure there would still be crime left in Paris, but that could be handled by the officers of the law instead of vigilantes like them. What did that mean for his friendship with Ladybug? Would they just...no longer be able to see each other? No, that was stupid. Ladybug might not be interested in him because of her crush on someone from her life outside of the mask, but that didn't mean they couldn’t be friends. They'd make a way. "It's been a lot of times recently where it's just been me and you, and though I do love spending quality time with my leading lady, I can't help but wonder when the ball's going to drop. I don't want to jinx it, but the last time we found someone who was akumatized it was Mr. Pigeon and that was nearly a month ago." He had most certainly been keep tracking. Between the photo shoots, collabs, and interviews along with school, his fencing class, and a few side activities, there wasn't much of any activity from Hawk Moth. He doubted the man had suddenly fallen off the face of the Earth, but there had to be something at play. Then again his sidekick, Mayura, had been hurt in her last confrontation with the rest of them. Maybe the two of them were an evil couple and Mothy had to take some time out of his akumatizing schedule to take care of her? It was sweet even though they were both evil - taking joy in turning people into their minions all in a vain attempt to get the Cat and Ladybug Miraculous. Then again, what if her sickness was the reason why Hawk Moth was trying so hard? Maybe the reason they'd shown their costumed faces was because of desperation, and Hawk Moth had gotten a mad power-up from her to boot. She hadn't been in the game until recently so maybe that was it? It was something he'd been speculating on a while now, but hadn't had enough evidence to support this theory which meant he hadn't said anything to Ladybug about it. He probably should at some point, but not even now seemed like a good time. "He's too annoying to just give up and go on vacation, so maybe he's wrapped up in some supervillain HR meeting where they talk about their failures and how to go about achieving their goals while eating muffins from the cafeteria." It was random and probably outlandish. The goal was to make her laugh, especially when he was about to say something that might cause a bit of an issue between them. Yeah, butter her up before telling her that he won't be around for a little while because a friend of his father had done some contest and had picked three kids from nowhere to take on as apprentices or something and Adrien would be with them for a while. It was just a publicity stunt and collaboration thing, but it was an extra added activity and with everything else he had to do something needed to be cut out, and it wasn't like Ladybug only had him to rely on considering she could dish out the Miraculous to other people. It would be fine. "I don't think there's any crime afoot tonight," he offered teasingly after they stopped near the Louvre for a break. He stretched both arms over his head and yawned before flopping down in a cross legged position. "Which is convenient because...well, I won't be uh, be around for the next few weeks at least." Best to just rip off the bandage. "My family is going to be particularly busy and I won't be able to get out of certain obligations so if there's an emergency you'll have to get one of the others. I'll try to sneak away, but you'll have to treat any threat that might crop up like one that I won't be able to help you fight in." Just saying that made him feel like crap. If an emergency came up and someone got hurt because he prioritized taking pictures with some contest winners over fighting crime then he would have to live with that guilt, but his father would be watching and if he even tried to get out of something like that the consequences would make him being Chat Noir period even harder when things weren't incredibly busy. If he wanted to keep being being a hero then he was going to have to do whatever it took to keep his father off his case. This was one of those situations where there were no good options to take. "I'd better head home. I have to wake up early. Well, earlier than usual." He turned back the way they'd come, which was in the opposite direction of his home actually, and ran off. He was out of his lady's sight he changed the direction and took a different route home. He de-transformed, fed Plagg a few pieces of Camembert and raced the rest of his way home - entering through the front gates and not stopping until he was in his room.

"Okay Sixer, how'd this happen?" Triplets Stanton, Stanford, and Stanley sat in their shared bedroom - Stanley and Stanton; or Shermie as he liked to be called - sitting on either side of their brother Stanford as he read the letter in his hand for the fourth time in silence. There had been a bit of a contest months ago created by a man named William Chiffrer. He was looking for individuals with a wide variety of talents that ranged from athleticism to intellect. Stanford had of course sent filled out the necessary forms on top of going above and being by writing an entire essay about why he believed he should be chosen...he'd also sent out the necessary forms for his siblings and tricked each of them into writing a bit of an essay of their own. He didn't think any of them would be accepted. William was a man of many talents, but what had caught Stanford's attention was the man's intellect. William had the ability to create his own language - something that he and his siblings had done when they were younger...little ciphers that only they could understand, but William? As far as Stanford knew the man had at least three different languages of his own under his belt, a company that didn't seem tethered to him, and ideas of deep sea and space exploration that he had no qualms with sharing to the masses. In other words, the man was an actual genius who had absolutely no problem flaunting it. Stanford was envious, intrigued and well, William was his idol. That meant he wanted to learn from him and this contest? This contest would be his one shot. He, however, didn't want to go in alone. The sound of someone playing with a paddle ball close to his face caused him to jerk to attention. His eyes traveled to his left where he saw Stanley, the sibling that was identical to him minus the fingers, waiting impatiently for an answer. To Stanford's right his slightly older fraternal sibling looked unimpressed already having an idea of what'd taken place though the chances of all three of them being picked was...highly unlikely. "It's not that difficult to understand," the middle triplet said as he pushed himself off the bed and paced the center of their bedroom floor. "More so, improbable. The chances of the three of us getting chosen for this opportunity of a life time is simply astronomical. It's--" "Not the question, Poindexter. Sherm and I didn't enter this sleaze ball's contest. I know I suck at math, but I'm at least a hundred percent sure that us not enterin’ means we both hadda zero percent chance'o winnin' anything. Howzat possible, I wonder." One look at his brothers had rooted to the spot - both hands behind his back as his started to get nervous. Stanley continued to play with his paddle ball, but his attention remained on Stanford while Shermie let out and exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry! I don't know what I was thinking. Well, of course I know what I was thinking. It would be incredible to have William Chiffrer as a mentor. His vast knowledge of the world and its inner workings - despite being quite controversial - has merit and have been shown to be more than just plausible. This man has plans to change the world and the means to do it and it would be remiss of me to pass up the opportunity to work under the man himself. I just did not wish to go alone so I took the liberty of signing contest forms for the both of you while feeding you false information about an extra credit essay where you had to convince the President of the United States of why you would be a great addition to the White House." "Wait, that's not what you told me," Stanley said with narrowed eyes while slowly lowering the paddle ball. "Errhm, yes well, you having to convince a potential suitor's father of why he should let you date his daughter seemed more plausible than the Presidential angle, I'm afraid. Now, even if only one of us came out victorious in this raffle the winner is permitted a plus one! Had either of you won instead I would have hoped that you'd allow me to tag along." "And yet Pa calls me the shyster. I am so proud of you.” Stanley wipes an imaginary tear from his eye while Stanford glares at him before turning his attention towards Shermie who’d finally lifted his head. His expression was exasperated yet thoughtful making it clear that he, at least, wasn’t going to make such a huge deal of out it. Between Stanley and Shermie, the latter was much more academically inclined and when opportunity struck he tended to let it in and treat it like a friend. Paris, France was a place that these three boys from New Jersey would never in their wildest dreams imagine being able to visit - not with how much of a penny-pincher their father was. For a while all there had only been a pair of glasses between them which Stanley and Shermie had agreed to let Ford have indefinitely. ”This is a once in a life time ordeal, isn’t it?” Shermie questioned after letting the silence linger. They were teenagers with no real funds to their name. If they went to college it would have to be on a scholarship - Stanford had at least four lined up, Stanley could possibly go for football, and Shermie had his hands in a little bit of everything. Other than that, there was nothing for fancy trips to far off lands like France, so right here? Right now? Yeah, it definitely seemed as though this was going to be one of those once in a lifetime deals. The brothers looked at each other, Stanley sliding off the bed to punch Stanford in the arm before leaning against his shoulder while Shermie continued thinking. Finally he stood up and crossed his arms. "That was an underhanded trick you pulled Ford, but I can't say that I blame you and a trip to freaking France? The City of Love? We'd have to be crazy to pass up the opportunity." "Ugh, love," Stanley griped, immediately turning sour causing Shermie to look a little guilty while Ford rolled his eyes and elbowed him good-naturedly. His breakup with Carla McCorkle had been a messy one. Karma seemed to strike at both Carla and the boy she'd cheated on Stanley with, Thistle Downe, in the form of someone riding his van into a ravine. According to reports it had been someone dressed up in some sort of costume with a tail. Either way love was currently a big flaming no-no in the Stan Triplets's bedroom...except for Shermie. "Perhaps it would be in your best interest to invite Veronica along, Shermie." Ah, the turns immediately tabled as Stanley's frown disappeared to be replaced by the biggest, doofiest, mischievous grin he could muster while Shermie's face turned a nice shade of tomato red. He sputtered while Stanley darted out the room to make the call leaving Stanford to block his big brother in - the commotion the duo made their mother had to warn them about roughhousing in the house and to take that mess outside. Stanley snickered, his Ma gave him an idea. Outside and to his car he ran after hearing his brothers on the stairs. When they realized that Stanley wasn't inside the brothers raced outside to see Stanley checking his pockets for his keys. Suddenly Stanley was on the ground laughing after having been tackled by Shermie which left Stanford - innocent little Stanford - to head back inside and make the call himself. "Hello, Mrs. Carlyle? This is Stanford Pines. Is Veronica there?” There’s a particularly loud wheeze from outside that catches Stanford’s attention. He looks to his Ma and shrugs before going back to his call. “Hello, Ronnie? You won't believe the good news. Do you recall that contest I entered for the trip to Paris, France to study under THE William Chiffrer? Exciting news. Not only did I win, so did Stanley and Sherman. I...will explain later, but each of us gets to bring a plus one. I am cordially inviting you--"

Talon had seen the threat coming a mile away and he actually tried to draw attention to what was going on. With him being who he was he held rank in his uncle's organization, but it only extended so far especially when the side of evil thought they'd had the victory in the bag. It was the same song and dance time and time again. They thought they had the inspector, he'd goof around and somehow come out on top with the help of his niece, and then Claw would vow vengeance the next time they crossed paths. It got old, and Talon was tired. He was tired of constantly losing when he knew that he had the skills to come out on top. In fact, he was pretty sure he could overthrow his uncle instead of working as his underling, but as things were? His street cred had plummeted. All the losses caused by Penny and her uncle set him back time and time again. The villain circles he ran in started giving out awards for the most failed missions and he had somehow gained the lead. It was embarrassing and degrading and it was about time he'd think about his future. If he wanted to show the world he was more than just that bumbling oaf who happened to be Claw's nephew then he needed to branch out and re-establish himself, perhaps even go back to the drawing board. It was when he realized that no one was going to heed his words did he decide cut his losses. He'd grabbed Penny and her dumb dog and pulled them to safety with the parting words of, “Catch ya later, Penny,” before going back into the fray. He had a mini force field surrounding him which was, in theory, supposed to be strong enough to protect him from any type of explosion. He didn't think he'd actually be in a situation where he'd be testing this out, but he didn't have too much time. He was looking for something in particular before things went side ways. It was as though his eyes landing on his prize was the trigger which launched the explosion. He cursed, a bright light blinding him before he was propelled off his feet and backwards. He clicked his heels together until the rockets activated, and he hastily righted himself, but he still slammed against through the wall behind him. He should have snapped his back. He should have been covered in flames, but instead survived - barely able to get a handle on the situation. For one thing his force field was still holding up and he’d managed to what he’d gone back for - a bejeweled box which was what his uncle had been after. Luckily whatever he was holding was also covered by his forcefield. Not only that but this explosion was the chance he'd been waiting for - to get away from his uncle and lay low, preferably with a family member that was on the opposite side of the law. You know, a good guy. It helped that he’d been straddling the fence for months now - working with HQ a bit due to some sob story he’d fed Penny which meant he definitely had an alibi. People saw him save Penny. People knew that this scheme of his uncle’s had absolutely nothing to do with him. Whatever happened here couldn’t be pinned on him. Talon’s boots were totally ruined when he activated them - they only had a few seconds of righting him before the thrusters at the bottom went off in mini explosions that luckily hadn't harmed his feet - and found an agent of Claw that was roughly his size though totally unrecognizable. He removed his boots and shoved them onto the remains and dragging it over to a still burning flame. His forcefield protected his feet from the heat, but it wouldn't hold for too much longer. Even now the heat was already starting to penetrate and he had to run. With the forcefield having protected him from the brunt of the explosion some of his other tech remained as well. There was a prototype cloaking device he'd had installed that ran on the same 3D holographic projector tech he tended to use for a quick and easy disguise. He swapped modes and from his belt a little barely noticeable light extended, scanned his form, and bent the light around him making him appear invisible. He made it half a block invisibly before the forcefield conked out with the invisibility following next which meant that his 3D projector was also down for the count. He paid it no mind as he'd taken that into consideration and made sure to avoid any areas that seemed busy. He didn't need anyone to see him running around barefoot and covered in soot. Besides, no good villain worth their salt went around town without a cache of some sort and he was near his closest one. It was a rundown apartment building which, on the outside it just looked a little lopsided; could use a little TLC. On the inside? Oh, the building looked as though it should have been condemned before his Uncle Claw was born. It was perfect, and it was where Talon cleaned himself up, changed into a set of clothing that was not his typical purple though did include another set of rocket boots, and combed his hair flat on his head giving him those infamous "Boy Band Bangs" which were partially hidden by the hood from the jacket he'd decided to wear. He left the apartment and, despite knowing it was a bad idea, made his way back to the scene of the explosion. There were HQ agents, a bomb squad, the fire department and of course police officers everywhere as well as a crowd. He spotted Inspector Gadget who'd apparently made it out unscathed as usual, and he even saw a few of Claw's men being apprehended. He shook his head. There had never been a fight between him and HQ that had gone so far in as long as he could remember. He clicked his tongue and whispered, "C'est la vie," as he walked away - washing his hands of this botched operation as well as his Uncle Claw - for good. Once far enough away and pulled out his cellphone, took a deep breath and placed a call he'd never thought he'd make. "Hey Billy. It's, ugh, Tristan*. Is that offer for help still on the table?" William Thaw* sounded visibly confused on the other end of the line, most likely because he'd been sleeping at the time. When he realized that his cousin was in need of help he woke up just a bit more. "You need a place to stay, Mr. Big Shot Criminal?" That was not the tone that Talon was hoping to hear, but it wasn't entirely unexpected either. Most if not all of their family was evil including Billy's dad. Even their grandma was evil, but no one had really given Billy the memo so he turned out to be one of the good guys. With him and Talon being roughly the same age and having lived together with their grandma for a while, there was always some form of disagreement or the other, especially when Talon had learned of their family's history and chose to follow in their footsteps. It was why he'd swapped his name from Tristan to Talon as a sign of respect for his then role model Dr. Claw. "Is this the part where you give me a huge speech about right and wrong or heroism because if it is you can save it. I’ve branched away from Uncle Claw months ago and a good thing too because he messed up big time. I tried to tell him his plan was bunk from the get-go, but he went ahead with it anyway even after I warned him about a gas leak. Then I tried to tell the stupid henchmen that the explosives they were planting were going to trigger an even bigger explosion but I’m not on the payroll anymore and apparently a bigger explosion the better. They were so concerned with making sure they got Gadget - that’s their entire thing but...Usually no one gets fatally hurt and a few people did. That's not the kind of villainy I signed up for." For a moment he thought Billy'd hung up on him, but then he heard the ruffling of blankets and the clicking of what must have been a lamp being turned on. "People died?" "One as far as I was able to tell. I was caught in the blast too. ForcefieId tech saved me and I managed to get a few people out before the blast but yeah. I'm sure it'll be on the world news if it isn't already." "What do you want from me, Tris?" Hearing that nickname hurt. "I want to initiate protocol Redo." "Never thought you'd say that." The sound of Billy getting out of bed could be heard. Moments later the sound of a computer or laptop being booted up sounded through the line. "Tell me about it. I thought I had everything planned out. Didn’t take into account that Uncle Claw’s gotten senile in his old age." "Luckily we're both deceptively smart and plan for things that we don't think we'd ever need then, huh?" "You call that luck. I call that being smarter than everyone else. Even if you don’t think it’ll ever happen to you plan for it anyway, especially in this line of business.” ”Especially.” Talon finally stopped walking when he reached a twenty-four hour fast food place where he plugged in his phone and ordered something so that he wouldn't be bothered. "I assume you handled Talon?" "Died in the explosion that took out a few senior HQ agents and a few of Claw's henchmen. Identifiable only by his rocket boots." The line was silent aside from the clicking of keys. Talon ate silently while he listened to his cousin work. A few hours of Billy working he finally came to a stop. "Tristan Thaw is in the system once more. You did a thorough job of wiping him out. Can't say that I'm surprised. I've altered Talon’s files. You're now your own twin, congratulations. You were put up for adoption at a young age but there was a missing person's report due to you running away. Your file was closed because you were presumed dead. People will most likely stumble upon this now while trying to pull up information about Talon so...in the off chance that that happens. Call me, and I will say I've been hiding you in my dorm." "No. I can't do--" "You will, Tristan. Despite the incredible foolishness of this family it's the only one I have. Despite how everyone around me is a bad guy from the worst comic book tropes I've ever read, this family still manages to take care of each other. I'm in a boarding school because I didn't want to be part of the family business. Someone in the family is paying for me to be here. You've protected me inadvertently a few times, and Uncle Claw has taken me under his wing a time or two, and I am also the first person grandma taught her cookie recipe to. The point is, despite this family being nefarious in every sense of the word, we ALL protect each other, and you came to me for help. You did what you could to stop something horrible from happening, and it happened anyway. If worse comes to worse I'm sure Uncle Claw would help--" "Gonna stop you right there. I don't want his help, otherwise I'd have gone back to the lair. This is...let him think I'm dead. You're the only one who’ll know the truth." "Of course. Well, if you can manage to get from where you are to Paris there's an apartment that seems to have been paid for. Has been in my name for a while. I'm thinking Grandma made me a few safe houses just in case I decided to turn rotten, but you can stay there." "Thanks Billy." "You can thank me by not pulling this stunt again." "Or I'll just say thank you and move to your safehouse."

---TIME SKIP--- ONE MONTH LATER

When Billy told him about the safehouse in Paris he probably should have expected the place to be pretty well furnished and in a decent part of the city. It wasn’t exactly flashy, but it would probably garner the attention of his neighbors. Luckily he had a backstory figured out, a passport, a birth certificate and other documentation that he needed. Luckily for him there was nobody looking for him, and even if they were they certainly would have no reason to look for him in Paris. It was the perfect escape for him, and definitely gave him time to himself. He didn’t want to drop the villain thing, but if he wanted to become a huge contender then he was going to have to change his image. He was going to have to one up the competition and finally...he was going to have to down his uncle. For now, he had to start small. For now he had to blend in with the masses, build up a bit of a rep while staying in the shadows until he could build his own empire. Luckily for him he had a few connections already.

The three dorks staying across from him had arrived a few days after he moved in and made quite the impression. The one with the six fingers had bumped into him and apologized profusely for not paying attention to where he was walking and flailed his hands a bit. Talon, or rather Tristan made the faux pas of commenting on his fingers aloud which seemed to cause some embarrassment. Another boy, had to be a twin or something, heard the remark and was making his way over with his fists clenched causing Talon to remark that he’d never seen something so cool before. It seemed to be the right thing to say as all three of them somewhat relaxed while heading up the stairs. That’s where Talon encountered the third of them realizing that he was staying across from a set of triplets. It was a bit awkward at first, before the boy with the glasses answered his question about what they were doing in Paris. “I didn’t know that Willy had a contest going on. You guys must be pretty smart if he chose the three of you, and siblings to boot.” Of course Talon knew very well that Willy wasn’t exactly a good person. The guy was sophisticated in public, but in private he had a bit of sadistic streak and was pretty psychotic in some instances. Yeah the dude was an actual genius, but he also gathered great minds and exploited them. The fact that he’d gathered three brothers, triplets no less? Something was definitely going on. “You say that as though you know the man personally,” Stanford stated while his brother, the one with the slightly darker hair (Shermie) opened the door and Stanley carried some stuff inside. “Not at all,” he immediately shook his head. “I tried to enter his contest before as well. I actually made a hoverboard--” “Like from Back to the Future?” Stanley asked as he kicked his box into the room. Talon nodded and said,"Exactly like that," while Stanford looked skeptical. That was the start of their...he wouldn’t exactly call it a friendship but it was pretty close. --------------------- Adrien hadn’t been expecting to be invited to the triplet’s apartment building after their initial gathering and photo-op with William and his father, but he had accepted the invite anyway seeing as it would allow him to spend some time with teenagers his age while using his father’s tactics against him. “I was supposed to meet up and help the Pines’s today for an hour before meeting Kagami for our fencing lesson? His father had simply nodded through the tablet monitor that Nathalie was holding. Adrien took off soon after that with G manning the car. When he’d arrived at the apartment it was to an open door and the triplets arguing over what they wanted to do first. There was also another boy there, arms crossed and back against the wall with a smirk on his face. Adrien had the feeling that he’d been the cause of this little argument. “Am I early?” he’d asked which drew the triplet’s attention. “Yer right on time, Aiden.” “His name is Adrien, be nice.” The identical brothers bickered between themselves while Sherman shook his head and beckoned for Adrien to come inside before closing the door. “Just go. It’s not a big deal.” All eyes turned to Talon who pushed off the wall and raised his hands. “Of course it’s a big deal! He can take his girl all over Paris after we celebrate. We’ve been here for a week and haven’t burned our apartment down. This is a cause for celebration! Let the Pines Brothers party for a day,” Stanley argued with his arms crossed. Shermie just covered his face in his hands and sighed. "Or we can go get Ronnie since she may as well be a Pines, grab some snacks and celebrate here?” “Stanford Filbrick Pines--” The two outsiders watched in amusement as Sherman tried to grab the six fingered boy who ducked behind Stanley and then into the kitchenette practically dragging the loudmouthed boy with him. “So um, who are--” “I live across the hall. Gotta admit these guys have been the best entertainment I could have possibly asked for. What about you, Mr. Agreste? Working a charity case here?” Adrien was partially confused and partially offended by the question. “Not at all. I was invited over.” “Oh, that makes more sense.” He hadn’t elaborated on that making Adrien narrow his eyes before the triplets re-emerged from wherever they’d been in the apartment. Stanley had his arms crossed while Stanford was scowling. Shermie looked far less ruffled than the other two which meant he’d proven his point. "Sorry about that, you two. The plan is we’re going to call my friend to have her meet us here then head out for a celebratory get together. Since you two are the only people we know here we’d thought you’d be up to joining us?” The fact that Adrien had made three new friends who wanted to hang out with him brought a smile to his face, but then he thought about his obligations and the other friends he’d had to turn down. His smile turned a bit sad before he shook his head. "I’m really sorry you guys, but I can’t stay for very long. My schedule is booked solid. The only reason I was able to slip out was because I told my father that I had to help you three for an hour before I have to practice my fencing.” Talon lunged at the air in front of him, swinging around an imaginary rapier before snorting, “Can you be any more of a cliche?” Even Stanley cracked a smile at that before lunging towards Talon with his arm out, the two of them swiping at each other with their invisible weapons, Stanley beginning to talk like a pirate while Shermie was in the process of calling Ronnie to let her know of their plans. “Ignore them,” Stanford said while giving his brother and Talon a glare that went completely ignored. “It’s what I do when they get like this.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” was Adrien’s annoyed reply. A second later he found himself being dragged into the sword fight by Talon before Stanley grabbed an unwilling-to-participate Stanford. “My first mate will absolutely swab the deck with ye’s!” “Stanley no.” “Cap’n Lee thinks he kin board me ship and spread ‘is tall tales, but we’s a learn’em.” “Tristan don’t encourage him!” Stanford’s words went ignored as Talon managed to grabbed a decorative pillow from the couch and chucked it at the six fingered boy yelling, “CANNON BALL!”. Taking it as an immediate out, Stanford dramatically fell to the floor, sat up and positioned the thrown pillow beneath his head, and then laid back again. “Nooooo, Sixer! I shall avenge ye!” He ran towards Talon only to be intercepted by Adrien as he slid in front of the other boy. Stanley’s eyes widened, surprised at Adrien’s speed, and he tried to stop before colliding. Adrien moved out of the way as quickly as he’d come while Talon remained there holding out another of the pillows which he used to smack Stan in the face as he came to a stop. Stanley dropped to the ground dramatically like Stanford had and made gurgling noises since the unwritten/impromptu rule was that the pillows were cannon balls. The four boys laughed before Stanford got up and put the pillows away with a shake of his head. Stanley was glad to have managed to get his brother to participate. It had been a long time since they’d done something like this and it made him think that this trip to Paris was a good idea, especially after having met “Tristan’ and Adrien.

#femmechanceux #—Swindler's Folly #► Opossumus Prime #► Triple Threat #► Gadget HQ #—X-0vers #Tristan is Talon's name in the French version #William Thaw is the son of Dr. Thaw #Billy and Dr. Thaw are both from Gadget and the Gadgetinis #Dr. Thaw is Dr. Claw's Twin

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walkerismychoice · 5 years ago

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Unwritten (Raleigh X MC AU) - Chapter 1

Book: Platinum

Pairing: M!Raleigh X MC

Rating: This series will contain mature themes. Any necessary warnings will be listed before each chapter, but the overall series rating is 18+

Note: So I've been trying to come out of my unofficial writing hiatus for quite some time. Leave it to @choicesarehard having a birthday to get me to jump right back in with a whole series. This is an AU, and although some of the story follows along with parts of the book, there are major deviations as well. If anyone wishes to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know.

Word Count: 1369

Happy Birthday (belated) birthday @choicesarehard!

Master List

"Ms. Campbell?"

"Huh?" Aria snaps out of her meditative trance. It feels as if she' been waiting for hours, but she's been too nervous to keep track of the time. "I mean, yes, that's me."

The young but already hardened looking executive assistant seems unimpressed as she gives Aria the once over, lips pressed in a thin line. "Mr. Knight will see you now."

Aria self-consciously smooths her pencil skirt and tugs at her thrift store blazer. What is she doing here trying to pretend she belongs amongst this designer-clad crowd? Just days ago she was working in a smoothie shop, and now she's meeting with Ellis Knight, owner of Overnight Records and probably the biggest name in the business. She hesitates, telling herself this is the last chance to turn around and run back out the door, but finds the courage to move forward following the assistant through Ellis's office door.

Aria had always dreamed of a career in music. With her parents both being music teachers, her musical talent and interest have come naturally. As much as they had encouraged her to follow in their footsteps and go the practical route, it wasn’t her dream. Singing and songwriting have always been her passion. However after multiple rejections and being stuck working a mall job, she’d been beginning to think her parents were right when fate stepped up to the smoothie shop counter in the form of pop-star Avery Wilshire. Too stunned to speak, she’d been mortified when her coworker and best friend Shane gushed about Avery being Aria’s musical idol and slipped him a piece of paper with the link to her YouTube channel. The only way it could have been worse would have been if she’d been wearing the store’s banana costume. She’d gone to bed replaying the embarrassing exchange over and over in her head, but it had been all but forgotten when she woke up to her notifications blowing up after Avery followed her on Instagram and shared one of her music videos. Several phone calls and one week later, and now she’s here in Ellis Knight’s office surrounded by important-looking people, wondering if this could be the start of something big.

“Ms. Campbell,” Ellis begins as he shakes her hand and they all sit down. He’s even better looking in person than in pictures with his perfect, bright white, probably veneered teeth and neatly coiffed, dark silver-gray hair, making him all the more intimidating, even if he is old enough to be her father. “I’ll cut right to the chase. I’ve listened to your demos and you have a raw talent; that’s undeniable.”

“Thank you, Mr Eliis,” Aria blushes.

“...But, I don’t see us being able to sell you as a mainstream artist.”

Aria’s heart sinks to her stomach and she’s wondering why he brought her here just for another rejection. ”Okay, well thank-”

“Wait, let me finish,” Ellis insists. “I meant yet. You do have potential, and that’s why you’re here. But like I said, your talent is raw and you need time to develop, and time is money in the music industry. While you aren’t ready to make it on your own yet, paired with the right artist, you could have hits on the radio in no time.”

“So what are you saying? You want someone else to sing my songs?”

“Not exactly. We have an artist that’s struggling, in more ways than one, to finish out the last album in his contract.”

“You can’t be serious!” A petite woman with a sleek black bob and striking blue eyes interjects. “Her style is all wrong for him.”

“Fiona...” Ellis warns.

She shoots Aria a mildly apologetic glance. “No offense.”

Once he says her name, it sparks her memory, It’s Fiona Syed, manager of Avery Wilshire among other big names. Aria tries to play it cool. “None taken...I guess. I’m not even sure who we are talking about.”

Ellis clears his throat. “Unfortunately due to the need for discretion, you won’t know who this artist is until after the contract is signed. Like Fiona said, your style does not quite mesh with this artist, but there are elements there. As mentioned, we can’t use any of your current songs for him, but together, I think you could create something with real mass appeal.”

None of this makes sense. Why all the secrecy, and why her? Aria has so many questions. "What are the terms of the contract?”

----

On the way to the beach house, it all seems so surreal. Aria has agreed to spend the summer holed up with an unknown artist in an undisclosed location writing songs. At least Fiona, now also her manager, will be there. Wow, just even thinking about having her own manager feels so weird. Despite their rocky start, Fiona has been polite and professional, if not exactly warm towards Aria. Her chest flutters as they approach the light blue, cape cod style home on a secluded area stretch of Atlantic beachfront. Knowing that Fiona is also Avery’s manager has Aria both excited and terrified that he could be the mystery artist.

Aria steps out of the car just as a black Escalade with dark tinted windows approaches.

Fiona holds out her hand. “Give me your phone.” Picking up on Aria’s confused expression, she elaborates. “Remember the contract? We can’t risk anyone finding out about the location or who’s here. Streams of fan-girls traipsing along the beach trying to get pictures will not bode well for productivity.”

“Yes, that’s right.” It’s a little annoying because it’s not like Aria would break the contract even if she had access to her phone, and she’s most definitely going to feel like an appendage is missing the first couple days, but she gets it. She knows from her days in the Avery Wilshire fandom on Tumblr just how crafty those fan-girls can be. They can give the CIA and FBI a run for their money. Even one non-descript photo could lead to their location being found out.

Aria has little time to grieve the loss of her phone before the Escalade stops and the back door opens up. She reflexively stops breathing as the figure emerges and has to make a conscious effort to pick her jaw up off the floor. It's not the sandy blond, squeaky clean, heartthrob she was expecting. Quite the opposite, in fact. Raleigh Carerra, the tattooed, dark, smoldering-eyed, hotel room-destroying, Puerto-Rican boyband member turned solo R&B artist, has an image that’s far from wholesome. Not that she’s a puritan saint herself, but she now see’s why Fiona had objected to Aria writing with him. What could they possibly have in common, musically or otherwise?

“There’s no fucking signal out here.” Raleigh holds his phone up, seemingly searching for service.

Fiona reaches up on her tiptoes and snatches the phone out of his hand. “Good thing you won’t be needing one anyway.”

"Hey, give that back. I need to let everyone know where the party is tonight since nobody would tell me the address before we got here." Raleigh reaches for his phone just as Fiona tosses it to the Escalade driver, an imposing figure in a navy suit and dark sunglasses.

"Hank...C'mon man," Raleigh pleads.

Hank slips the phone in his suit pocket and crosses his arms across his chest, face fixed in a stone-like expression.

"Fine, but we'll be discussing this later. Where are the guys? How am I supposed to write without my team?"

Fiona rolls her eyes. "Seeing as you've been working with them for months and all you have to show for it is a lot of late night partying and charges for property damage, we figured a new approach was needed. Meet your new writing partner, Aria Campbell.

Aria smiles sheepishly as Raleigh seems to notice her for the first time. He smirks ever so slightly, before his lips turn downward and his eyes narrow.

"What, am I supposed to write a fucking Kidz Bop album or something now? I'm sure you're lovely, sweetheart, but this isn't going to work. Hank, take me back home." Raleigh gets into the back seat of his car and slams the door shut.

#playchoices fanfic #platinum #raleigh x mc #raleigh carrera #my fic

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

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Title: Arranged {1}

Yahya Abdul Mateen II x OFC Nyorie Kane

Warning: Plot

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Yahya is thirty-three, and his friends and family all seem to believe that it is long overdue for him to have a wife. He’s been set up more times than he can count and with his busy schedule and rising Hollywood star, it is becoming even more difficult to meet people, well people who aren’t looking for a come up. In the beginning, he said he didn’t want anything serious; his motto was “I’m was here for a good time not a long time.” Then it became he didn’t want anything that would distract him from where he wanted to go and what he wanted to accomplish. Now that his fame is rising and he’s approaching a sweet spot in his career he decides what the hell the time might be right.

In comes “A Match”, an exclusive matchmaking company run by his best friend Ramel’s wife Tamika. He gives Tamika and Ramel free rein and all his trust to find him, someone, he’d mesh well with. Instead of going through her clientele Tamika has just the right woman in mind, her best friend, Nyorie. Things are done a little unorthodox at “A Match” though. This unconventional route is credited for a near-perfect success rate.

Note: I’ve only tagged those who have expressed to be on a forever tag list.

****Also, please keep an open mind.

**Loosely Proofread/Edited**

✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*

Chapter One

“Man, you not getting any younger. Plus we all know how important family is to you the rate you’re going you not even gonna have one till you fifty,” Ramel said as he came back into the living room with his hands full of food. Ramel stopped in front of the U-shaped sectional and handed out bags to their owners. He stood up and took the cream-colored plastic bag Ramel held out for him.

“I don’t know how many times you’re going to keep saying this.”

“As many times as need be. I mean really, is uncle Ya good enough bruh?”

He pulled out the containers of food and thought about Ramel’s words for a few moments. He loved being uncle Ya, loved picking his niece Havea and nephew Rami up for their biweekly ice-cream and bowling night. He loved showing up to their school functions and trips to Disney and tagging along to kid movie premiers. He wouldn’t change anything about it.

“Look man, I know you love my kids. What’s not to love? I also know you want kids of your own. You can’t have that continuing on the way you are,” Ramel drilled home.

He knew it. Truthfully, he’d been mulling the pros and cons over for months. Ramel wasn’t the only one in his life badgering him like this. His mother, sisters, and brother were all on his case too. His mother liked to pile on the guilt asking him when she’d get a grandchild and when she’d get to see him walk down the aisle and made it no secret she was praying for it before she died. What the hell was he to say to that?

“Not everybody wanna be married Mel, you got half the squad on that ball and chain shit leave him alone,” Rashawn blurted out. The four of them laughed loudly. Normally they’d be keeping it down because of the kids but they were at a sleepover, so they were free to be as loud as they wanted.

“Man, shut up. He the last one. Your ass bout to be on that ball and chain shit too. One-week fool,” Ramel added.

“You don’t have to remind me. Torri has the house filled with everything wedding related. Man, this week needs to hurry up so we can get back to real life.”

He leaned back and focused on his food. He was the last one in the group still single. The last one of the four musketeers, the lone wolf. It didn’t bother him before; it was just the way it was. Now—he wouldn’t focus on it, not now.

They continued to watch the basketball game and talk like they always did when they got together. They’d been friends for a long time, and he valued their friendship and advice. He trusted them with everything and would always have their backs as he knew the same was true for them.

Rashawn desperately stayed away from all and any talk about his wedding to Torri. He acted like he’d been caroused into the wedding when everyone knew damn well he was stupid in love and cried through the proposal. Ramel assumed the role of loudmouth big brother pretending like he knew everything; it was a role he’d played for most of their friendship. Tyrell didn’t pretend to not be the hopelessly devoted husband he was to Dacia; he was the one who was always caught texting her and secretly face-timing her during guys night out. When they got together, a lot of fun and a lot of shit-talking always happened and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

By the time the game ended, the food finished, and Tamika came home it was close to two in the morning. Ramel wasted no time kicking everyone out when he saw how inebriated Tamika was.

“Y’all don’t have to go home, but you got to get the hell up outta here. My woman is drunk, we got no kids for the night, some freaky shit bout to go down!”

They all rolled their eyes and quickly began gathering their things.

“How freaky?” He looked back to see Tamika crook her pointer and wiggle it to Ramel who smiled but pushed her hand down trying to hide her finger. He knew they were into some freaky shit and he did not need the details or the visuals.

“Imma head out. I have an early day later anyway. Stay up man,” he said and went around the group giving each of them their handshake.

“Think about what I said burh. We here for you,” Ramel finished. He nodded and walked over to Tamika and gave her a kiss on the cheek before he walked out the door to his car in the rounded driveway.

The drive back to his house was a quick and quiet one. When he got home he showered and used the rest of his awake time to prep for the coming day. He knew it would be a long one.

-The Next Day-

Just as expected the day stretched on and on. He got maybe two hours of sleep before he was out of the house and on a set for a photoshoot. That shoot went on for eight hours, then he was off to a string of interviews then two meetings and yet another photoshoot.

It was now close to one in the morning and they were just getting their last shots. He was exhausted. he knew this came with the territory. If he wanted to act he had to be okay with photoshoots, interviews, paparazzi, and everything else that came with fame. Some days it was a tough pill to swallow and he wondered what it would have been to continue on in architecture, and others he took it in stride and piled more onto his plate. Today was a mix of both.

“All right Yahya, thank you that’s a wrap,” the photographer called out. He nodded and went around shaking hands with everyone who worked the shoot. A woman with dirty blond hair approached him with a wide smile.

“I am such a fan, Yahya. I loved you in Aquaman.” He graciously smiled and thanked her. She bit her bottom lip and gave him a look he knew wasn’t strictly friendly. “Can I have a picture?”

“Sure. No problem,” he cautiously responded as he stepped beside her and waited for her to angle her phone just right.

“Say Black Manta.” He smiled at her request and held up his peace fingers. Once the photo was taken she turned to him again and thanked him.

“Look, I know this is forward and normally I wouldn’t do this but it’s 2020, I’m gonna shoot my shot.” She held out a piece of paper to him and he could see a phone number scribbled across it.

“This is my number. No pressure to use it, just—if you want to use it, I’d answer, and we could hang out.”

She was attractive, he wasn’t going to deny that. Her skin reminded him of smooth chestnut. Coupled with the color of her hair she was a beautiful woman. He was just leery of her motives. Ninety percent of the women he’d met since his breakout roles all had ulterior motives. Most just wanted to be seen out with him so the rumor mill could start circulating and give them their fifteen minutes. He wasn’t with that. That was the one thing about his newfound fame. He never knew what anyone wanted from him anymore.

“Uh--.” He was speechless. He didn’t want to embarrass her by rejecting her, so he took the paper and nodded. “Thank—you.”

She smiled and again bite her bottom lip. “Okay, great. See you around.” She walked off leaving him to look down at the paper with her name and number. “Thalia-954-389-3048.” She’d dotted her I with a star. It bothered him and he didn’t know why. He stuffed the paper in his pocket resolved in his decision not to take it there. He didn’t have the time or energy to sift through the sea of clout chasers.

He quickly finished up, got his things and left. He’d missed his workout for the day and needed to get one in. every little bit helped especially with him trying to get into Matrix shape.

Luckily his trainer was up and was able to meet him at the gym to train. A few reps on the treadmill, another couple sets of weights, then some time on the bar and finally a brutal boxing session rounded out the hour and fifteen-minute rotation. By the end of it, he was dripping sweat and ready to just drop in bed which is just what he did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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TagList:

@chrisgalore @thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15 @queenbetter @jesseswartzwelder @briellableu @titty-teetee @zaddysqueen7 @melaninhawtie @simplyyamberr @airis-paris14 @ashanti-notthesinger @afraiddreamingandloving @ajspencer1892 @wakanda-inspired @chillavesss @drsunshine97 @cleothegoldfish @builtalongthewayside @theunsweetenedtruth @geeksareunique @aykanna @hanasamara @profilia @ollieveracity @autumn242 @missyperle @sup3rn0va13 @chaneajoyyy @forbeautyandlife @kreolemami @designerwriterchic @laketaj24

#arranged fic #yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfiction #Yahya Abdul Mateen ii x reader #Yahya Abdul Mateen ii x you #Yahya Abdul Mateen ii x black reader #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years ago

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The Eras of Lana Del Rey: Lookbook no.9

Hi to anyone reading,

Hope you’re okay! AND that you didn’t end up here because you searched the Lana Del Rey tag so you could see people ranting about her-you’re about to be very disappointed. Sorry. This is not about to be some Question for the Culture discourse because the world is bleak enough right now and the last thing we all need is to be reminded of that saga.

Being a Lana Del Rey fan is easy, they said. She’s not a controversial artist, they said. And yet 2020 had to do what it does best and fuck everything up.

Whether people like her or not, it’s made me so angry reading all the abuse she’s been getting about her appearance for the last couple of weeks, because I really thought that if we could agree on anything it was that attacking individuals for the way they look because you dislike something they’ve done (with the exception of shit like racist tattoos and blackfishing) is, you know, awful and judgemental as fuck? Like you do realise when you treat the word fat as a pejorative that the fat people you don’t have a problem with understood that you meant it as an insult too? I think what all those people tweeting about Lana’s weight, and that includes some of her fans, are forgetting is that she was in her early 20s when she was thrust into the limelight. As much as there’s this conspiracy that her dad bought her a career in the music industry, she’d made the decision to go it alone and had lived in a trailer park as a struggling musician for years. On top of that, we have the unreleased tracks with lyrics seemingly referencing an eating disorder in her younger years. OF COURSE her body is going to look different. Why is it that we treat weight gain as an inherently bad thing without any insight into the other factors that constitute a person’s “health”? It’s fucking insane that so many feel they have the right to comment on other’s bodies in the first place and it breaks my heart that she might be reading these comments. This wasn’t intended to necessarily be a rant about how much I love this woman but all the shit I’ve read about her on the internet these past few months have pushed me to it. You'll respect your queen of alternative music or I shall stan twice as hard on your behalf. You can thank me later when you come to your senses xoxo

I’d love to say it was intentional that I finally finished this post the week Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass was released but that would imply I have my shit way more together than I actually do. If I’m being completely honest, I’ve only heard L.A Who am I to Love You so far 1). because I want to wait for the hard copy for the rest and that doesn’t turn up til September and 2). because I do not have my shit together, lol. That being said, there is no doubt in my mind that I am going to love it-one thing I have always loved about Lana’s lyrics is how well they paint a picture and this is something that poetry only more freely allows for the exploration of. That ability to create such a strong narrative voice and atmosphere is a talent that extends to her visuals and the production of her records too, and is something I really missed when it comes to the Norman Fucking Rockwell era. I’m just going to say it: a strong aesthetic is to NFR as memorable songs are to Lust for Life. Lacking. Am I allowed to say that as a fan? The collaborations don’t do it for me, okay, and as as NFR is concerned, aside from The Greatest/Fuck It I Love You video which went down the whole neon surfer girl route, it’s hard to identify a cohesive theme. It’s understandable that at this point, she would want to just focus purely on the music, and it goes without saying that NFR will stand the test of time in that regard but I don’t think we can deny that when people think of Lana in the future, it’s not gonna be a green windbreaker that comes into their heads.

^Illustration credit to Filip Kozak (https://filipkozaksart.tumblr.com/?fbclid=IwAR3vwLX2pNxoFNhTPD1ky14LllPqlLtL1GxGlD79xuHxdtzcHLw-6aNBZWo)

And here’s where this Filip Kozak illustration comes into it; after years of it sitting in my camera roll for years, it finally has a use. There’s really nothing better to illustrate how mundane life has become this year than the disproportionate level of excitement my photo-hoarding-self experienced realising it would fit perfectly into this post and is thus eligible for deletion. Up there with being able to fit a whole box of biscuits onto the shelf at work rather than having to individually take out as many as I can and then shove them on top of the existing box of biscuits one by one. Truly riveting content on this Tumblr page. Back to the point-by using this as my stimulus for the post rather than the Lana Del Rey albums as outfits tag that went round on Twitter, I can conveniently exclude NFR as an outfit inspiration category, and that saves me from having to buy a charity shop windbreaker with its price bumped up 150% by some upper middle class Depop e-girl or boy who uses the word peng as a descriptor like it’s a nervous tic. To make up for leaving out NFR, I’ve tried to branch out a bit and do the outfits not just based on the music videos or album covers but also from street style and stage looks and photoshoots from around the same period too. It was hard not to be influenced by the general “vibe” and sound of the albums either when I was planning outfits, whether it’s the grand, orchestral instrumentals of Born to Die or the 70s psychedelic rock inspired riffs of Ultraviolence and hopefully that’ll show as well! Enjoy:D

Born to Die (Release Date: 27th January 2012)

It’s been 8 years, and when you ask most people what they think of when they hear the name Lana Del Rey, they’ll probably dismiss her as the one who sings about being sad and doing coke and sleeping with older men. That’s the Born to Die impact. Say what you want but it’s one of only a handful of albums released by a female artist to have spent more than 300 weeks on the Billboard 200 chart and it really established the mythos of “Lana Del Rey” because before all this, before all the think pieces from other women claiming she’d set feminism back hundreds of years with her music, before she ousted grayscale Effy Stonem as the queen of angsty teen Tumblr (which as you can probably guess was a subsection of the internet I was very much engulfed by, lmao), she was just Lizzie Grant, a relatively normal aspiring singer songwriter in her early twenties. But as Lana Del Rey, she was someone else-some beautiful, mystical being that personified the sentiment of being born in the wrong era. Whilst every other singer’s record labels seemed to be trying desperately to thrust them into the future and keep them on top of all the musical and stylistic trends, it was refreshing to hear someone whose music and visuals captured all the most glamorous elements of the past. Part Priscilla Presley/Jackie O reincarnation (the National Anthem video really illustrated how Lana is just as much a storyteller as she is a musician), part high level mobster’s wayward wife à la Michelle Pfeiffer in Scarface, she was the good girl by day and the bad girl by night, and I think that’s a duality we can all relate to or would like to think we’re interesting enough to relate to deep down.

Her style from around this period was EVERYTHING. She had those grungy Tumblr girl elements, the camo jacket and the oversized pieces and the leather jackets, but she also heavily drew on the styles and silhouettes of the 50s and 60s with the beehives and the new look Dior inspired cinched waist dresses. Even now in 2020, I think this period is what most people would think if they were asked to describe Lana’s style. I made sure I got the grungy pieces in there with the chunky boots and the vinyl and the oversized leather but the foundation of her looks back then were usually these daintier throwback pieces like the white silk dress and the corset and the mint fur trimmed coat (House of Sunny’s Penny Pistachio coat).

Favourite lyrics from the album? “Now my life is sweet like cinnamon, like a fucking dream I'm living in” from Radio. Nobody asked but I’m gonna give it to you anyway.

Born to Die: The Paradise Edition (Release Date: 9th November 2012)

Lana’s Paradise EP contains probably my absolute favourite song of her’s, Ride, and with that, the beautiful opening monologue that will stay in my mind forever. This era was of course ushered in by Tropico, the short film that included the premiere of the songs Bel Air, Body Electric and Gods and Monsters, which established the ethereal tone of this period-it’s in the name, after all. Both the album and the videos were other-worldly and leaned heavily on religious symbolism which I’m sure pissed off many a middle-aged bible basher at the time. Most prominent in her lyrics were reflections on the freedom of the open road which corresponded with visuals of biker gangs and desert dwellers and modern interpretations of the Wild West, as was an attempt to capture the nature of the so-called “American spirit” which as Lana portrayed it shared more qualities with a kind of celestial, transient being than any kind of solid concept or identity. She played an emotionally detached stripper and a haunted saloon-style-bar singer (almost looking like a runaway bride) and Eve the “first woman” all in the same album and honestly, if that’s not iconic, I don’t know what is. We saw SO many incredible red carpet looks in this period too which built upon this idea of her as the fallen angel tempted by original sin that Tropico established; I feel like this era was all about laying bare the soul of the character she played, this broken, delicate but ultimately liberated being that was so dangerous to the idea of the strong, stable modern feminist ideal. She went about it in COMPLETELY the wrong way in a post that betrayed the ignorance of the privilege she has as a white female performer, but I think this is what she was getting at in it and Ultraviolence only went on to bolster her critics.

In response to the criticism she still receives about the choice to wear a Native American war bonnet in her Ride music video, I’d like to say that it really seems like she’s learnt from that-actions speak louder than words and so though it’s not my place to say whether this makes up for that error, the work she’s done with Native American reparations-focussed foundations since and the money she’s donated to the cause says a lot about her intentions. Again, I want to stress that it’s not my place to say! But it’s a detail that is often overlooked so I thought I’d mention it here.

“I was a singer, not a very popular one. I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet. But upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky, that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken. But I didn’t really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing it to know what true freedom is.”

Ultraviolence (Release Date: 13th June 2014)

AH, Ultraviolence. My favourite of Lana’s albums and imo, a masterpiece. ONE skip. ONE. Sorry Guns and Roses. I got stoned in my back garden and listened to this (for research purposes ofc, heh) and ended up deciding that this is what I want to listen to when I die (also whilst stoned). It sounds dramatic but listening to this album in that state of mind is such a heavenly experience that I’d be too zen to notice myself slipping away into nothingness on the basis that if I didn’t as long as I could stay in that bubble of awe, nothingness forever wouldn’t be so scary after all. I know, I know, that sentence has big Jaden Smith’s old tweets energy. But if an album is what helps me get over an existential crisis, I beg you allow me the nonsensical ramblings about how I felt like I was ascending into the stars.

Though in terms of the lyrical content the public perception is probably correct, I think the reputation Ultraviolence has as Lana’s darkest, most gothic album (which is something I’ve in incorporated into the outfits I put together) is mistaken; instrumentally and visually it drew more on 70s psychedelic rock and the bohemian counter culture of the period than anything, and her stage looks are a clear reflection of that, and also the outfits I was most excited to channel. It seems counter-intuitive to the moody atmosphere I associate the tracklist with but it’s my go-to summer album; it’s raw (probably her most stripped back work along with NFR, lots of the songs are barely edited) and it’s gloomy but let’s be real, hot as fuck-don’t bother making a sex playlist, just put Ultraviolence on shuffle, and you’re good to go. This was the album where Lana debuted some of her most criticised lyrics and where the notion that she glamourises abuse comes from, one of the points she also seemed to be getting at in the Instagram post, but imo it’s fair to say that she sang truthfully about the initial allure of a dangerous relationship and the nature of the mindset that facilitates staying with somebody poisonous where you do feel like you’re nothing without them. Turning horrific experiences into romantic tragedies is how Lana has always made her music and yeah, out of context there are some fucked up lyrics on the album, but policing how a woman expresses her trauma and complaining that she glorifies weakness because she wrote honestly about the reality of a complicated partnership is hardly any more “feminist” than the lyrics themselves. I can only guess that the reason Lana felt the need to bring up this criticism in 2020 is because these darker themes are going to be revisited in her upcoming album and that in spite of the issues with the way she expressed herself, this time critics will be more accepting of how she chooses to address these themes.

On a lighter note “yeah my boyfriend's pretty cool, but he's not as cool as me” will always be a great line. Simple but effective. If my boyfriend ever is cooler than me it’ll be doing Lana a disservice.

Honeymoon (Release Date: 18th September 2015)

Considering that a lot of other Lana fans are of the opinion that this is her best album, I find it weird that I really don’t remember all that much about this period, other than High by the Beach being released and then hearing Salvatore and Freak for the first time. I guess because she didn’t do a Honeymoon specific tour and didn’t make that many public appearances in this period? It was definitely harder for me to find visual reference points beyond the HbtB music video and the cover art, so I mostly drew on the general vibe of the album, a cinematic accompaniment to a summer in Italy or the South of France, filled with exotic instrumentals and the sense of impending romantic doom that Lana does so well. I suppose if I associate the visuals of this era with anything it’s idyllic florals and warm tones, bygone country club pool days, a rich American’s vacation in Southern Europe, long walks on the beach (and as our Lord and Saviour Jujubee once said, big dicks and fried chicken). Apparently inspired by Lana’s relationship with Francesco Carrozini, it’s a hazy story of some ultra-feminine, submissive archetype becoming unhealthily enchanted by a mysterious “foreign man” who’s ultimately not all that good for her, which as the story goes turned out to be quite prophetic. Going against the grain, it’s my least favourite of her albums after Lust for Life, but in spite of that, I will always remember how obsessed I was with the sax riffs (I think? I don’t know my instruments all that well so forgive me, lol) on Freak and I definitely understand why it’s a firm favourite for so many.

“You could be a bad motherfucker, but that don’t make you a man.” was truly a cultural reset of a line.

-on an unrelated note, OMG, I never realised how I have my mouth open in literally every fucking photo I take, somebody tell me how to pose, please and thank you-

Lust for Life (Release Date: 21 July 2017)

Lust for Life is a controversial one. On the one hand, I appreciate that this album was the victory cry of a happier, more independent, politically-aware Lana in spite of it apparently being a far more optimistic sounding album than the one she wanted to release, but on the other there were way too many collaborations for me and this meant that the album lacked a sense of cohesion and the characteristic narrative thread that usually runs throughout her tracklist. Aside from Love, Cherry, Get Free and Tomorrow Never Came, most of the songs on the album aren’t hugely memorable and it’s a crying shame that a collaboration with STEVIE FUCKING NICKS of all people left so much to be desired. Coming from two witchy icons, I expected something absolutely magical so maybe I was setting myself up for failure, but come on. We could’ve had a real anthem there.

Aesthetically speaking however, this is one of my favourite eras for Lana, which is unsurprising when you consider the tracklist contains references to both Woodstock and Coachella. I’m not gonna lie, I think seeing Coachella fashion in my early teens was my style awakening-I remember seeing Vanessa Hudgens’ outfits and being like, wow, I want to be her (oh, what a fall from grace)-so the late 60s/early 70s flower power groupie style Lana adopted in this period really spoke to me. It was all long hair and dreamy pastels, and this era included some of the most head-to-toe coordinated looks we’ve ever seen from her. Of course I couldn’t completely abandon the grungy touches that I love, that I tend to associate with the early Lana street style days and the Paradise and Ultraviolence music videos rather than with this album, but I’m never gonna pass up an opportunity to whack out a good floral two piece and putting together Lust for Life inspired looks is the perfect excuse to do that.

So, that marks the end of this post! If you made it to the end, thank you so much for reading! I have a Yesstyle lookbook and review to edit but now that I’ve finished that, I’m trying to go down more of a style inspiration focussed route with my lookbooks rather than just putting together outfits from clothes I’ve just bought (though I might still do one every so often to bring in a new season-let’s just ignore the fact that they’re all blending into one bc climate change for now, one catastrophe at a time please universe). I find that if you have a specific idea in mind of what you want, it’s super easy to find something similar on Depop and Ebay and that way you avoid buying new things and also take old things off a person’s hands that might otherwise end up being thrown out by a charity shop and then dumped into a landfill from there. Something I’d LOVE to do before this year is out is put together a lookbook based on the most stylish TV shows of the last decade, but that probably won’t be for a while-even so, if you have any recommendations of series to watch which could fit into this category, let me know!

To finish, I need to go a little bit off-topic so forgive me, but I truly don’t know why this even needs to be said: WEAR A FUCKING MASK. IT IS NOT A POLITICAL ISSUE. IT IS A BASIC HYGIENIC PRACTICE THAT HELPS SPREAD THE STOP OF A HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS DISEASE! RUDIMENTAL SCIENCE! NOT A CHANCE TO PROVE HOW “EDGY” YOU ARE! SERIOUSLY, STOP MAKING A FUCKING PANDEMIC ABOUT YOURSELF! NOBODY ENJOYS WEARING THEM BUT THEY HELP PROTECT OTHERS! SO UNLESS YOU HAVE A VALID MEDICAL REASON NOT TO BE WEARING ONE, DON’T BE A SELFISH PRICK!

Sorry to sign off on a rant-y note with something that has nothing to do with Lana, lol, but all the stupidity has been grinding me gears lately and I had to let it out on behalf of all retail workers: if we can wear a mask for 9 hours at a time, YOU can tolerate the mild discomfort of wearing one for 10 minutes. I know this doesn’t apply to the majority of people but there’s always a couple of arseholes, isn’t there!?

Stay safe,

Lauren x

#ldr #lana #lana del rey #fashion #fashion blogger #style blogger #outfit inspo

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gumnut-logic · 5 years ago

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We’ll Be Home For Christmas 5.1

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Five – Here on Tracy Island – Part 1 Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 2.3 | 3.1 | 3.2 | 3.3 | 3.4 | 3.5 | 4.1 | 4.2 | 4.3 | 4.4 | 4.5 | 4.6 | 5.1

Author: Gumnut

20 Jun 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 3313

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Artist!Virgil, Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos I started this fic before we saw it.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D

No, I haven’t forgotten about this fic, and yes, it hit the six month mark about two weeks ago. I started writing this 8 Dec 2019. I’m nearly there.

Landmark, though. It is now officially my longest Thunderbirds fic, overtaking Gentle Rain today at around 60,000 words, depending on which word processing program it is sitting in. Never expected it to be this long.

This chapter pretty much wrote itself. It is almost like a role call of the five brothers and their states of mind. So a little bit of all the bros in this. I hope you enjoy.

Many thanks to @i-am-chidorixblossom @scribbles97 and @onereyofstarlight for reading through various bits, fielding my many wibblies, and for all their wonderful support.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Day Five: Here on Tracy Island

Virgil woke late the next morning. It was a pleasant awakening, slipping from deep sleep to doze to a peaceful warmth beneath the covers. His room was dark. Darker than his cabin on A Little Lightning and with decidedly less sway.

He lay there for a while, enjoying the lack of need to get up and do anything and the absence of pain. He had slept the sleep of the dead and was thoroughly rested. There was something to be said about sleeping in your own bed at home that no holiday anywhere could provide.

But honestly, he wasn’t one to sit and do nothing for long, his brain kicking into gear while he lay there, listing off things waiting to be done. A visit to Two to reassure himself she had been checked over and was ready should she be needed. Not that he didn’t trust his family, it was just for his own peace of mind.

He should be able to get away with it so long as he didn’t spend too much time down there.

It took him a full half an hour of random rumination to realise that it was Christmas Day.

Oh shit.

The clock said eleven am.

His family...

He sat up abruptly and was thoroughly reminded of how stupid such a move was.

Oh, for the love of...

He grunted and rolled over until his face was smothered in his pillow.

The medic in his brain listed off the reasons why he shouldn’t have done that and why he needed to be careful and, goddamnit, he was sick of this. It was only an appendix, for crying out loud.

Stupid surgery.

That could have been so much worse.

He was being a spoilt child.

He let out a breath into his pillow, its warmth wrapping around his face. Another week and he would be fine.

But now, it was eleven oh five on Christmas morning and he was holding his family up.

He clambered out of bed with minimal complaint from his body, into the shower, a shave and into his familiar red flannel, jeans and boots.

It was such a comfort to be home.

He blow-dried his hair, gelled it up and made himself presentable.

The man who stared at him from his bathroom mirror was one appendix less and a whole pile of experience more.

He hummed to himself, tasting the notes in his throat. He could feel the soft whale skin under his fingertips, hear the lap of the water, the breeze in his hair...

And the music.

His eyes were closed without permission, the imagery taking over his mind. His fingers tapped against the bathroom vanity marking out the beat and rhythm of what he was trying to say, the pictures warping into abstract and lack of understanding.

Salty and long spoken, the notes repeated.

He didn’t know how long he stood there under the bathroom light, eyes seeing another world somewhere below the ocean surface.

By the time he shook off the haze it was eleven forty-five.

Almost lunchtime.

Alan would be foaming at the bit.

He pushed himself away from the sink and killed the light. Walking carefully across his room, he shook himself, rolling his shoulders. Get it together, Virgil. Your family is waiting for you.

Out through the door, down the corridor and, screw the stairs, he was taking the elevator.

It swallowed him whole.

-o-o-o-

Gordon had been up since before the sun. It was a sign that he was home. A session in the pool brought familiarity into the equation. There was definitely a difference between swimming in the pool versus the ocean and it had nothing to do with water salinity.

The ocean was beautiful and he adored it. But the pool sported no threat, no need to monitor his surroundings beyond the presence of a mischievous brother or two, leaving him to be able to focus on his stroke and let his mind wander.

The pleasant warmth of well used muscles pulling him forward through the water, simple thought processing...and considering the last few days, there were a lot of thoughts awaiting examination.

Some he had managed while piloting A Little Lightning on the home stretch, but there were still more needing answers and tactical decisions.

Sam. Mel. Scott. John. Virgil.

As far as he knew, Scott was still planning on inviting the neighbours over today. That would place Sam within reach of the apparently resistant Virgil.

He understood where both men were coming from. Virgil needed time and Sam was just a ball of eager energy.

Gordon was stuck between the two.

Push came to shove, he would side with Virgil regardless. He had too. But he really didn’t want to be divisive. If Virgil would talk just a little, it would help not only Sam and himself, but it might assuage the ball of worried energy that was Scott.

His arms sliced through water until he reached the end of the lane, his body automatically flipping and turning into the push off surge in the opposite direction. Air, splash and his hands slicing through the water again.

Okay, he would admit that he was worried himself. At first it was just amazing. His brother could sing to whales! A breakthrough. But yesterday he witnessed exactly how spaced Virgil became when singing and everything screamed wary. Humpback whales were beautiful creatures, but so big and so possibly unintentionally dangerous.

He couldn’t let Virgil anywhere near a whale alone. It just wasn’t safe. There was so much they didn’t know and the urge to protect his gentle brother just swelled in his heart.

They needed to investigate further. Find out exactly what was going on. Make sure his brother was safe. That it didn’t affect any water rescues.

They couldn’t afford to have Virgil spacing out in the ocean at random. As it was, Gordon wasn’t going to let Virgil anywhere near the ocean during rescues for the foreseeable future. He could stay up in Two.

Safe.

Whale song could travel around the globe.

His native realm had become a hazard for his big brother and that was unacceptable.

They had to find out what was going on.

John and Eos had made a good start, but Sam and himself needed to investigate further and soon.

Virgil needed to cooperate for his own safety.

Gordon broke his stroke, pushed himself to the side of the pool and rested his head on the concrete a moment, letting his body float randomly.

Blood pumped through his ears, his heart still running at exercise rate.

He needed to convince Virgil.

Somehow.

-o-o-o-

Scott revelled in the early dawn light. His feet pounded on his wonderfully familiar route around the Island. A trek he hadn’t laid eyes on for a week.

His runners crunched volcanic gravel beneath them.

The sun was just rising on Christmas Day, the beautiful weather hanging strong, the sea a stretch of glass disappearing off into the horizon. His current trajectory pointed him directly south where he knew beyond the glass lay Raoul Island. A single spot in a sea of blue, so similar to the even tinier spot that was Tracy Island.

Same sea of blue.

A pokey tree appeared on the side of the track, its red flowers quite glorious in the morning sun, and he found himself grinning. Sure, he knew the correct name of the pōhutukawa tree, but Alan’s name was so much easier to pronounce and it made Mel laugh.

His legs took the strain as he jogged up the rapidly steepening trail.

If he was honest with himself, the whole no strings attached thing was a lie. He found himself thinking about the woman more the longer they were away from Raoul.

And they only left yesterday.

As soon as the sun was high enough in the sky to be polite, he would be contacting Raoul with his invitation to her, Sam and Liam. It wasn’t the only time he had invited people to the Island, they weren’t entirely hermits, but it was rare and the first time in a long time.

And he was so looking forward to it.

Penny and Parker were due after breakfast as was the tradition. As soon as everyone was awake, they would have their present opening party, always a major family event. More for the company and laughter than the presents themselves.

He could almost hear Gordon declaring it ‘Tracy style’ complete with the arm movements to compliment the claim.

But Mel...it was like he was excited to show her the Island, perhaps because he knew she would be very interested in the ecosystem that had developed here since their father had begun repairing it over a decade ago.

And he was staring at it right now as he followed the path around the back of the Island. Pokey trees, palms and ferns were everywhere a foothold was available. Scott knew very little about their ecosystem beyond the need to keep it safe. Gordon and Virgil were the ones who knew most about it among the brothers. Gordon focussed on the sea and Virgil sometimes helped out with animal numbers and photography for the scientific group.

But Mel hadn’t been here since Dad...

He grunted and hurdled a rock he hurdled every morning as the slope inverted and started heading down. The view was stunning.

Despite the glass of the ocean, the swell still crashed on the back cliffs of the Island, jagged volcanic rock resistant to the relentless pounding.

Hopefully she would consent to the visit even though it was late notice.

He did have a Thunderbird, after all.

-o-o-o-

John hadn’t slept much. He never did when something was on his mind. His everything drove him to find a solution, particularly when a brother was involved.

Eos never slept, so she was the perfect insomnia companion.

There was also the factor that he was home, but he really wasn’t.

He was missing Five.

Now he was back on the Island, everything was screaming at him to go home.

Not that he didn’t like the Island, quite the opposite. The Island contained his brothers, his grandmother, Kayo, his family and he adored his family.

But the stars were calling to him. His body ached to feel the release from gravity. He wanted his home.

He ignored it.

His body needed gravity. It was an undeniable fact. It had evolved under the pressure exerted by the planet and while his mind adored the stars and the lack of gravity, nature demanded its return under the ‘use it or lose it’ mandate of life on Earth.

So, tired, but awake anyway as the sun hit the front of the villa, John made his way down to the pool where he found Gordon, as expected, in the water, but unexpectedly, not swimming. His head was lying on one arm at the edge of the pool, his body floating lazily behind.

John dropped his towel on a lounger and, bare footed to the edge next to his brother. Folding himself into a seated position he dropped his feet to dangle in the cool water.

“Gordon?”

“Hmm?” His head rose a little blearily. “Oh, John, hey.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Huh? What, oh, Merry Christmas, John.”

A frown. “You okay?”

Gordon flexed his shoulders. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Virgil?”

“Yeah.”

John sighed. “Same. But you do know he’s okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking it through.”

John pushed himself into the water and couldn’t help a relieved sigh as the water took away so many of the effects of gravity, cradling his body. “Swim with me?”

Brown eyes turned to him and John saw a reflection of his own worry in their depths. “Sure.” Gordon pushed off from the edge, his movements graceful despite his distraction.

John moved to the lane next to Gordon’s preferred and lined up beside his fish brother. Gordon shot him a brief but grateful smile before pushing off the end in a careless surge into stroke. He was metres ahead before John had even shifted into form.

Typical.

Show off.

But he couldn’t help but smile as he pushed off the edge himself, automatically moving into a strong but leisurely stroke in warm up.

Swimming denied verbal communication, but it wasn’t needed, the two of them just keeping each other company.

By the fifth lap, John started pushing himself, putting his body through the exercise needed to keep it healthy. He had no delusions of keeping up with Gordon. He just paced himself as his body needed it. Twenty laps in, he eased up a little and checked on his brother.

Gordon was still going. John brought himself to a halt, treading water, muscles pleasantly buzzing.

“Hey, John.” The astronaut startled, turning in place to find Scott standing on the edge of the pool. His running gear appeared well used, sweat stains prominent, and he was still breathing heavily. “Just letting you know that I’m going to be taking One out in about half an hour.”

“You going to get Mel and Sam?” Gordon was suddenly beside him. It was a sign of how tired John actually was that his younger brother startled him almost as much as Scott had a moment earlier.

“Yeah.”

“Can I come with?”

“Don’t you want to be here for when Penny arrives?”

John arched an eyebrow in Gordon’s direction. The fish had been looking forward to Christmas for that very reason. Before Virgil’s illness, it had been Penelope this, Penelope that. Apparently, he had the ‘best’ gift lined up for their first Christmas as a couple. Whether or not that was still going ahead considering recent events, John had no idea. Gordon hadn’t mentioned it since Virgil fell ill.

“I thought you had the fastest plane on the planet, Scotty.”

Their eldest brother snorted. “Plane, yes, younger brother, no.”

“Hey, I can be fast.” A strawberry blond frown. “Regardless, I need to speak to Sam.”

Scott eyed him a moment. “Virgil?”

Gordon sighed. “Yeah, Virgil. Gotta handle this delicately.”

Scott’s lips thinned. “Okay, then you better be ready in thirty because that’s when I’m leaving.”

The fish was already climbing out of the pool. Wet footprints marked the concrete as he strode to his towel.

Blue eyes turned to John. “You okay? You look tired.”

John let water run through his fingers. “I am, but I’ll live.”

Voice quiet. “Virgil?”

A single nod, voice equally quiet. “Virgil. Eos, Gordon and I will work it out. We just need time.” And patience. Admittedly, he didn’t have much of that where his brothers’ health was concerned. He could fake it, but it didn’t mean he felt it.

Scott’s expression was thoughtful. “I know you will do your best. Don’t forget to look after yourself.”

A groan. This was why Virgil was always adamant that he was fine. I single hint of something wrong and their biggest brother was all over them, his concern obvious. “I’m fine, Scott.”

That earned him a grunt and John actually struggled not to smile at his brother’s exasperation. John swam to the pool edge and pushed himself out of the water. A wave in the direction of the rising sun’s reflection. “The pool is all yours, dear brother.”

Scott eyed him. “Thank you.”

The morning breeze cooled John enough to raise goose pimples on his arms. Before he could reach for his towel, Scott was handing it to him.

Ever the big brother. It was John’s turn to eye him back. “Thank you.”

Scott smiled at him, a definite smirk on those lips. He knew exactly what John was thinking and had likely done it on purpose. “Anytime.”

Hmmm. “Merry Christmas, Scott.”

Those blue eyes widened as his big brother obviously realised that despite all the preparations underway, despite the tree they had stacked with presents the night before, he had still managed to forget the significance of the day.

It was John’s turn to smirk.

But Scott recovered quickly, tilting his head, a small smile on his lips. “Merry Christmas, John.”

With that he turned and headed off into the house.

-o-o-o-

Alan loved to sleep in. He shared this love with his second eldest brother. Getting up early sucked big time and he had no coffee addiction to help him.

But there was one day of the year when you could witness the youngest Tracy out of bed, while not early, at least a decent time where breakfast could still be called breakfast and not lunch or even brunch.

Christmas Day.

Alan adored the day. Presents, food and family, what more could a guy ask for?

So, eight am found him stumbling down the stairs to the kitchen in search of the second and third items on the list. He found Grandma at the kitchen table eating her fruit and yoghurt.

Alan made no effort to be quiet, but she didn’t appear to realise he was there, staring out across the lagoon. “Grandma?”

She dropped her spoon with a clatter as it hit the bowl. “Alan!” She clutched her hand to her chest, gasping. “You frightened me. Gave my old heart a kick in the pants.”

“Sorry, Grandma. Are you okay?”

“This time. Though I wouldn’t recommend doing it too often.” She held out an arm. “C’mere and give me a Christmas hug.”

Now that was something he was quite happy to do. Grandma hugs were always appreciated. “Merry Christmas, Grandma.” He held her tight.

“Merry Christmas, honey. Are you hungry?”

Uh, that was always a loaded question and there were important indicators related to that. “Where is everyone?” He had expected to find at least John down here. His space brother would eat his breakfast staring out into the lagoon and follow it with work on his tablet just to be around family in his own way. But not today.

“Scott and Gordon have gone to Raoul to collect Ms Fisher and that scientist friend of Gordon’s.”

“Sam?”

“I guess. They were both in quite a hurry to leave.”

That set Alan grinning. “I think Scott likes Mel.”

An arched eyebrow. “I thought she liked Virgil.”

A snort accompanied the grin. “I don’t think she is Virgil’s kind of girl.”

Of course, that was the very moment Kayo decided to enter the kitchen. She had obviously been on a run, dressed in shorts and a high cut top.

“Who’s Virgil’s kind of girl?”

Alan’s eyes widened. “Um.”

Green narrowed at him. “What are you up to, Alan?”

“Nothing!” He held out his hands. “What did I do?”

“I’m more concerned with what you are going to do.”

“Suspicious, much? I’m going to eat breakfast, that’s what.”

She continued to eye him. “No practical jokes today.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. Gee, you’d think I was Gordy or something.”

“Gordon will be contained by Lady Penelope. You, however, are not.”

“And what? That makes me some kind of prank genius?”

“Genius, no, annoyance, yes.”

“Hey, Merry Christmas, Kayo. How about a little of the spirit?”

She glared and him and grunted before turning away and stalking off.

“What’s up her skirt?”

“Alan!”

“Well, you saw her. I didn’t do anything!”

Grandma was quiet a moment. “She has things on her mind.”

“When doesn’t she?”

“Let her be.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Grandma sighed. “Things will work themselves out for the best.”

Alan stared at his grandmother. What on Earth was going on? Did everyone know something that he didn’t. He sighed. Wouldn’t be the first time. “I’m going grab some breakfast.”

“Yes, dear.” And Grandma was staring out at the lagoon again.

What the-?

Alan grabbed the refrigerator door and flung it open, his eyes raking its contents. Perhaps food would fix things.

A glance at Grandma found that she hadn’t moved.

There was definitely something going on.

-o-o-o-

End Day 5 Part 1

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Alan Tracy #Grandma Tracy #kermadec fic

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1157

survey by hxcsingingsk8r

Phone Scavenger Hunt

First off, what phone do you have? I have an iPhone 8.

And what provider do you use? It’s a local one you wouldn’t know about, called Globe.

How long have you had your current phone? I can’t remember if it would be 3 or 4 years this 2021. Either way, it’s definitely been a while and I’ve been itching to upgrade. It’s too early to make such a big purchase, though.

Do you have any cases for it? Describe them. I have a clear case that I bought last year. Before that, I had a pink Otterbox case that I managed to destroy even though Otterbox is normally known for its durability. I just have a very unique ability to wreck everything I’ve ever owned lol.

How old were you when you got your first cellphone? I was technically 6, but it was meant to be a present for my 7th birthday. We threw a birthday party a month in advance because my dad had to fly back abroad for work before my actual birthday, but we wanted him to be present at the celebration so we decided throwing a party early was the best route.

What about your first smartphone? [If the answer is different] It was an iPhone 5S.

How old are you now? Dunno what this has to do with the theme of the survey but I am now 22.

Okay, move onto the scavenger hunt part

What is your lock screen picture of? It’s of Kim Seon Ho at a restaurant, lmao.

Home screen? It’s one of the shots from a recent promotional photoshoot Hayley did for Good Dye Young.

How many pictures are thre currently on your phone? This question just made me so anxious hahaha. I have way too many photos; and upon checking, it turns out I currently have 6,266. My god do I need to clean up my camera roll this weekend.

How many videos? I have 227. I have no idea it’s gotten to be this many; I barely use my phone to take videos. I’ll go ahead and delete some of them right now, just to give my phone (and its storage) space to breathe.

What is your most recent picture of? It’s a work thing...I guess I’ll explain it so it can make more sense. So one of our clients has got this Lent campaign going on, and to spread word about it we’ve tapped a handful of food bloggers to try out the offers themselves and post about their experience on social media. Now that we’re in the middle of Holy Week they’ve gone ahead and uploaded their own posts, and I’m in charge of taking screenshots so I can show to the client that the execution had been successful.

And the most recent video? It’s a private vlog. Every Sunday, or at least every other Sunday I take a few minutes to sit down and do a weekly video thing where I talk about my ~mental~ and ~emotional~ status, and it’s basically a way to be in touch with myself and keep track of my progress. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually get to uploading them one day.

Do you have any albums? If so, of what? Yeah. I have one for Cooper, one for Kimi, and a bunch of tiny albums I’ve made where I compiled 4–5 photos of friends to post on their birthdays.

What pictures have you favorited? I have a lot of favorited photos. There’s no required category for me to label them as such.

Do you have any shared albums with friends or family or work? No. I’m not sure if I can do that, or how to do it if it is allowed.

Do you have any alarms set? For what time and for what occasions? I have a bunch of alarms but only because they’re archived into the Clock app and I just haven’t gotten around to deleting them. When I was still new at my work, I used to have alarms set for certain work tasks I have to take note of every week – but now that I’ve gotten into the groove of things, I don’t need the alarms to be reminded about them anymore.

Check your weather app, what is the weather and temperature where you live? It says ‘Mostly Clear’ and shows a temperature of 26ºC.

Do you have the YouTube app? Do you have your own channel? I do have the app and my own account, but I never use it to post videos. It’s nice to have my own channel so that my homepage can be tailored to my interests.

Do you have an email app? Which one do you use? I just have the default Email app that comes with iOS, but I never use it because it’s so wonky. It doesn’t refresh new emails and it takes forever when it does, and it doesn’t always show the full thread of email conversations. If I absolutely need to check my email for something I usually have to pull out my laptop.

Does it say that there is an update available on your phone or any apps? Yes, it reminds me everyday hahaha. I don’t update unless Apple has been planning a big revamp with new features, though; and if the updates are just to address bugs, I disregard the reminders.

Go into your contacts, how many contacts do you have total? It says I have 178.

Name all of your contacts under the letter M: Feels a tad bit invasive, so I’ll just name five people I have under M: Lui, Kim, Patrice, Danika, and Andi.

Name all of your contacts under the letter U: I don’t have anyone under U.

Do you have any contacts that are businesses rather than people? Which ones? No, I don’t really use text to contact businesses. If I wanted to inquire or order from one, I usually head to their social media page.

Go into your notes, how many notes do you have saved? This is another one I have a hoarding problem with lol. My phone says I currently have 561 notes, though I’m fairly certain the biggest chunk of it comes from minutes I’ve taken down from work meetings. It was a whole lot less when I was still in school.

What kinds of things do you save in your notes? Like I said, I use Notes for taking down minutes from meetings. There are also a few surveys on there, from times I didn’t have internet and couldn’t post them on here.

Do you have any voice memos saved? What of? Yep. Some of them were recordings I had to do for journalism classes I was assigned to do voiceovers; some are interviews, also from my journ class; and the rest are of me rambling.

Do you ever use the calculator app? Pretty frequently for work.

Do you ever use the Maps app? Not really. If I needed directions, I would check out Waze for that.

Do you have any health/fitness apps? Which ones? I still have the Nike Training app from the very brief time I wanted to start working out earlier this year.

Do you have the Instacart app? The what now? I’ve never even heard of that.

What about a delivery service like Postmates, Uber Eats, Grubhub, Doordash? I have the McDelivery app for McDonald’s, but I also have other general delivery apps like Grab, Lalamove, and Transportify.

Do you have something like Venmo, Cashapp, or Paypal? I have the Paypal app but I never use it. I also have a couple of e-wallet apps just in case I’d have to use them as a payment method, since some businesses I purchase from prefer certain ones. Ultimately, though, I use Grab’s mobile wallet the most often.

Do you use Bitmoji? I think I did before? I never used it all that regularly though. Didn’t see the point.

What other keyboards do you use besides English? Any? Filipino, Korean, and Emoji.

Which social media network apps do you have? Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, Tumblr, TikTok, and Snapchat. So I guess I have all the main ones?

If you have Instagram, what is your handle and how many followers? I have a very private one I only use for work. I didn’t want it to have any followers but at present there’s Angela (because she asked to follow it this week) and Bea (idk why).

What do you typically post on the various social media platforms? The only ones I regularly post on are Twitter and Facebook, and on either I share life updates (if there are any) and memes; though on Facebook I have to watch out what kind of memes I share and make sure they aren’t too offensive because I’m friends with relatives, workmates, and media on there lmao. But on Twitter, I basically have no filter.

Do you make TikTok videos? I don’t make any myself, but I do enjoy going through the app.

Do you only add people you know on Facebook? Yes, for the most part. I’ve taken to adding people as long as they’re from UP or my high school even though I’ve never met them as well, but if I sense that they only added me to try and sell me insurance OR try to get me into MLM, then it’s an instant unfriend for me.

Do you have an app that tracks Instagram followers? No, because I don’t need to track my Instagram followers. I’m off the radar as off the radar gets.

Do you have a Snapchat? Yeah, it’s still on my phone just because but I literally never touch it anymore.

Do you ever take selfies with filters? What app's filters do you use? Eh, just before. I don’t really take selfies anymore, period.

Do you use any apps like Depop or Poshmark or Etsy? No. Out of these three I’ve only ever heard of Etsy, too.

What messengers do you use to talk to people? Any besides just texting? I have Messenger to stay in touch with family and friends; Whatsapp and Viber for work; and Telegram just in case my friends want to play games.

Do you have any photo editing apps? Which ones? I have this app called Foodie that has some pretty filters. Otherwise, since I’m not on Instagram anyway I’m never on the lookout for photo editing apps; no one ever filters their photos on Facebook and Twitter lol.

Do you have any games? Which ones? I do have a ton of games on my phone. I never play any of them, but I keep them just in case I get bored enough to start revisiting them. I have word games, drinking games, games similar to Heads Up! where one person will have to guess the word on the screen while the phone is on their forehead, and gimmicky games like 1010! and Candy Crush haha.

Do you have any rideshare apps like Lyft or Uber? I have Grab, which is a rideshare, parcel delivery, food delivery, and online grocery app all in one.

Now go to the actual phone app, whose phone numbers are saved as favorites? I don’t tag any of my contacts as favorites.

Who was your most recent outgoing call to? I can’t recognize the number, so it was probably a Transportify driver that I called to give him directions to my house.

Who was your most recent incoming call from? I also can’t recognize the number, but this time he was most likely a Grab driver.

Who was your most recent missed call from? Again, can’t recognize the number HAHAA

Why did you miss that call? On purpose? Were you sleeping? Busy? My phone is on silent 24/7, so I must have missed it while I was working.

Who is your most recent voicemail from and what's it regarding? We don’t have voicemail in the Philippines.

What was the last thing you Googled or searched on your phone? Candle tunneling and how to fix it.

What music app do you use? Apple Music? Spotify? Something else? I use Spotify, but I also availed of a 3-month trial on Apple Music earlier this year just because. I think it’s supposed to end soon but I have no plans to shift.

What playlists have you made on there? I have playlists called, “robyn discovers kpop,” “winding down,” “angst,” “not my loss,” and my personal favorite, “paramore but fuck you.”

Lastly, what is the most recent song/album you've added to your collection? What Type of X - Jessi.

#survey #surveys

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 5 years ago

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Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Six

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

They went down many hallways on the way to the kitchen, enough of them that Roman lost track of where they were. He understood that they were taking the scenic route to avoid his mother, but this still seemed...extreme.

It was all made worth it, however, when Roman and Logan arrived in the kitchen, and Roman was instantly assaulted with the smell of sauces, and spices, and cooking food. Patton came over almost immediately with a smile on his face. “Logan! Nice to see you again! And you brought a guest!”

“Yes, we’re hiding Roman away from his mother,” Logan said.

Patton faltered. “Roman?” he asked.

“That is his name, Patton,” Logan said.

“Oh. Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know!” Patton exclaimed.

Roman waved off his apology. “My mother didn’t want anyone to know, I’m not surprised that she would try to misinform you.”

Patton looked like he might slap someone at any moment. “I’ll give her the overcooked turkey, in that case.”

“Ooh, turkey tonight?” Roman asked, eyes lighting up.

“Turkey as well as spinach lasagna, for the vegetarians,” Patton said.

“That’s rather considerate of you,” Roman said.

Patton shrugged. “I get meal offers all the time that I follow even if they don’t make sense. Following a vegetarian meal plan is easy compared to some of the things I’ve seen in my day.”

“I’ll bet,” Roman laughed. “But I love turkey. My brother Remus and I would eat turkey sandwiches virtually every time we returned from one of our ‘adventures,’ it was by far one of my favorites for a long time, and I still have a soft spot for any sort of turkey because of it.”

Patton smiled. “You seem very fond of your brother,” he noted.

“He’s the best,” Roman said. “Very first person I came out to, and he was super understanding. I love him more than words can say.”

Patton nodded. “Yeah, you show that in the way you talk about him. Can I offer you something to eat before dinner? A sample of what you may have, for instance?”

Roman laughed. “Maybe a little, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all!” Patton chirped. “I’ll get you a piece.”

Patton puttered around the other cooks in the kitchen and grabbed a piece of turkey, returning to Roman with the piece skewered on a fork. “Go on, it’s encouraged to make sure that everything is cooked properly.”

Roman took the offered fork and took a bite, humming as the flavors burst on his tongue. “This is amazing, Patton,” he said with a smile. “Truly amazing.”

Patton grinned. “I’m glad you think so, Your Highness!”

“Are you going to be cooking for the wedding?” Roman asked.

Patton nodded. “That I am! Do you have any requests for food?”

“No requests,” Roman said. “Except that you put as much care into the dishes as you do with this meal.”

“Of course,” Patton said. “I put as much care and love into every dish as I can.”

“Excellent!” Roman exclaimed, beaming. “Then I can look forward to the food we’ll have by the end of the week.”

Patton laughed and shook his head. “You are too kind, Your Highness.”

“On the contrary, I think you’re too humble,” Roman said.

Patton offered Roman a grin before one of the doors to the kitchen opened and Damien poked his head inside. “Oh! Roman!” he exclaimed. “I thought you might be here. Everyone is beginning to get settled in the dining room, if you want to come out with me?”

Roman hesitated. He didn’t want to have to hide in the closet so soon after he had gotten out of it. But did he have a choice? Not really. “All right,” he said. “I’m not looking forward to playing the part of a princess, but I’ll walk out with you.”

“Oh, and his mother’s getting the dry turkey,” Patton informed Damien.

Damien got a wicked gleam in his eyes as he smirked at Patton. “You, sir, are far more devious than you let people believe.”

“Part of my charm,” Patton chirped. “Now you two should go before the entire castle starts looking for you.”

“True,” Damien said, offering his hand to Roman. “My good sir.”

Roman laughed and took Damien’s hand, shaking his head. “You’re a mess,” he informed Damien. “You like to pretend to be together and suave, but in actuality you’re a huge mess.”

“I hope that won’t be a problem?” Damien asked.

“No, no problem,” Roman said, shaking his head. He grinned. “It means I get to laugh like a maniac whenever one of your schemes goes awry.”

“I am a prince, Your Highness. I do not ‘scheme,’ I ‘plan’ or more often ‘strategize,’” Damien corrected.

“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say,” Roman said, beaming up at Damien.

“Were we not monitored every second of every day I would tickle you in retaliation for that remark,” Damien hissed at him.

“Oh, good thing for me that we are always watched, then,” Roman replied. Damien huffed and shook his head, but he was fighting back a smile. Roman laughed and nudged Damien. “Come on, you know you love me,” he sang.

“Mm. Love is debatable, seeing as how we’ve known each other all of a single day,” Damien said. “I do enjoy your company, however.”

Roman giggled as he stood on his toes and whisper-sang into Damien’s ear, “Gay~!”

“You little shit,” Damien hissed right before they rounded the corner leading to the dining room, where Damien’s parents were waiting.

“It’s good to know you’re comfortable around me,” Roman said, arching his eyebrows meaningfully. “I doubt many people see that side of you.” He glanced over at Damien’s parents and knew that they were within earshot in a second.

“You would be right that not many people know that about me,” Damien agreed. “But those who do know me are aware that I do things such as that, and generally, they don’t care.”

“Mm. Your parents?” Roman asked.

“Don’t care if I swear like a sailor so long as I keep it clean among house guests,” Damien replied quietly and simply. “But being vague is in our best interest since we don’t know where your mother is or if she can hear us.”

Roman sighed. “True. Much as I hate it.”

Damien offered Roman an apologetic shrug. “Just one week, my dear, and then I will ensure no one deadnames you or misgenders you ever. For any reason.”

Roman shook his head. “You can’t guarantee that,” he said.

“I will do everything in my power to ensure that anyone you come into contact with respects your name and your pronouns, then,” Damien said. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Roman said. “I still don’t think you can guarantee that, but it is in theory more feasible and I appreciate the sentiment.”

Damien offered Roman a smirk before turning to his parents. “I found our guest in the kitchen,” he said. “Something tells me Logan took him there.”

“Per my request,” Roman said. “Don’t pin all of this on Logan. And besides! I only had one bite, which Patton offered to me! I didn’t steal any food!”

Damien laughed. “Okay,” he said.

“Everyone’s getting seated,” Damien’s mother said. “Are you both ready for the uncomfortable amount of attention you’ll be receiving?”

“Not really, but we may as well get it over with, right?” Roman asked, adjusting the ends of his shirt sleeves.

Damien’s mother smiled ruefully. “True. Don’t worry, my dear, the tailor has been informed about the change of plans and he will be here after dinner to take your measurements. And he will always be respectful.”

Roman offered her a smile. “Thank you,” he said. He blew out a breath. “Showtime.”

“You’re the most convincing drag act I’ve ever seen, for what it’s worth,” Damien whispered into his ear as they walked into the dining room.

Roman squeaked and smacked Damien on the arm. “Behave!” he warned.

Damien just grinned and walked Roman over to his seat, pushing him in as Roman sat down. There were quite a few dignitaries around his seat, including Mira, one of the ones who he had come out to before his parents found out. “Hi, Mira,” he said.

She offered him a pained smile. “Hi,” she said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Roman nodded. “Likewise. You’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve been treated properly by everyone here,” he said, glancing at his mother, who sat next to Mira at the table.

“That’s good,” Mira said, and her shoulders relaxed minutely. When Roman’s mother looked away, she mouthed, “Roman?” And Roman nodded with a smile and a finger to his lips.

Mira’s smile grew into something more relaxed and genuine, and she nodded. “How do you like it here in general?” she asked. “I always enjoy visiting whenever my duties call for it.”

“It’s very nice,” Roman said. “Perfect scenery for painting, when the paint actually comes out of the tubes.”

Mira snorted. “Found another exploding tube, did you?” she asked.

“Indeed,” Damien said.

“Oh, no,” Mira laughed. “I’ve been on the receiving end of those, too, and it’s never fun.”

“No,” Damien agreed. “Can’t say I’m a fan of it either, when the paint wound up on me as well.”

Mira laughed and Roman cracked a grin. “It was fun this afternoon, though,” he said. “I had a fun time.”

“As did I, my dear,” Damien said, smiling at Roman. “As did I.”

“Oh, you two already act like you’ve known each other for years,” Mira laughed. “I love it.”

Roman smiled. He wished he could ask Mira to give a message to Remus, but he knew she’d be flying out tomorrow morning and would be nowhere near the castle, if Roman could even write a letter and slip it past his mother. His father would find it, knowing his luck, and then he’d be in even more trouble. He didn’t want to wait until whenever his parents decided to send Remus over to talk to him, but that seemed to be what was going to happen.

Damien put his hand on Roman’s and murmured, “Everything will be okay.”

“You can’t promise that,” Roman breathed.

“Maybe not,” Damien allowed. “But I won’t allow you to be hurt if it is at all in my power to prevent it.”

Roman offered him a small smile and the two let their hands break apart as cooks exited the kitchen with turkey and lasagna alike. Roman grinned as a large portion of turkey was placed in front of him, almost to the proportions of Damien’s plate. “Wow, they must know how much I eat,” Roman joked. “I can eat huge bags of chips in the span of three hours and not gain any lasting weight. I know that will likely be subject to change later, but for now, it’s nice that I have a plate that can actually leave me feeling full.”

“That is a good thing,” Damien agreed.

They all started to eat, and Roman didn’t fail to notice his mother mutter, “The turkey seems a bit dry,” as he tried not to cackle outwardly at Patton’s antics. As it was, Damien and him shared a glance and nearly burst into a fit of giggles, just the two of them. Roman savored the taste of dinner for as long as he could, as the ambassadors and dignitaries around them congratulated them on the wedding.

Damien fielded most of the questions, a fact for which Roman was thankful. Everything still seemed so surreal, and he couldn’t believe that everyone around him was convinced he was going to be a bride at his own wedding. Even being called “Veronica” didn’t sting as much right now, he was too caught up in his own mind.

What was going to happen after the wedding? Obviously, his parents were going to be furious. Remus would keep in contact if at all possible, obviously, but would his parents ever speak to him again? Would they believe that he was transgender, at long last, and change their tune? Or would he be stuck wondering what had happened to his family for the rest of his life after his marriage?

A hand on his own pulled him out of his musings. Roman realized he had his fists wrapped around the utensils in a white-knucked death grip, and he forced his hands to relax. “Are you feeling all right, my dear?” Damien asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Just thinking, I guess,” Roman said, glancing at Damien and smiling, before his smile faded as he stared at the table. “This still doesn’t feel quite real.”

“I know, I’m still in shock myself,” Damien said. “But if I have to marry anyone, you’re an...ideal candidate.”

Roman laughed at that, once, loud enough that the whole table stared at him. “Oh, yeah, and we both know why that is,” Roman teased.

Damien’s eyes grew softer and he relaxed into a smile as Roman felt a little bit of life rekindle inside him. “I believe the tailor will be arriving in fifteen minutes, which I assume gives you about twenty before he asks after you,” Damien said. “Not really any time for dessert, I’m afraid.”

“That’s all right,” Roman said. “After all, I’m having cake at the end of the week.”

Damien laughed and nodded. “I suppose that’s true,” he allowed. “But if you want to sneak a cookie later, let me know and I’ll see what I can do.”

Ripples of laughter floated around the table at that comment, and Roman went back to eating with a small smile. Damien kept near enough to Roman at all times that no one could say anything to Roman in secret without Damien hearing, and Roman appreciated the sentiment behind the gesture, even though he doubted he would be having a hushed argument with his mother in the middle of dinner. He finished his plate of turkey right as one of the workers came in and said, “Your Highness, the tailor is here for you.”

Roman sighed and squeezed Damien’s hand. “Try your best to not get eaten alive,” he said. “I’ll be expecting to talk to you soon, even if tonight isn’t available.”

“I imagine Remy will be keeping you for quite a while,” Damien said. “So I think I will probably not see you until at least tomorrow morning. Good night, my dear.”

Damien kissed Roman’s hand and Roman short-circuited quietly as he followed the worker out of the dining hall. “You and Prince Damien are an awfully lovely couple,” the worker said. “Even if you haven’t known each other for very long.”

Roman laughed. “Yeah, I do love to spend time with him. He’s rather charming.”

“I’m admittedly a little jealous,” the worker whispered conspiratorially. She continued, “He seems like such a dashing gentleman, and I would love to spend time alone with him.”

“Are you new around here?” Roman asked.

“First month here,” the worker confirmed. “Why?”

“Oh, just wondering. It seems like a lot of the older workers are used to him causing mischief,” Roman said. “They don’t seem to call him a gentleman as much.”

“The older workers probably remember him as a young child, though. Surely, he’s matured?” the worker asked.

Roman snickered. “Well, he and I went out this afternoon intending to paint the scenery below the mountain and wound up covered head to toe in paint from a paint war. If he has matured, he certainly has some rather large gaps where he relapses into mischief.”

“Oh,” the worker said, somewhat deflating. “I could have sworn he was more mature than that.”

“There are plenty of people out there more mature than anyone in this castle,” Roman said. “And if you want to pursue someone mature, I have no doubt you can achieve that. Just not with Damien. He’s a little too juvenile.”

“Too true, babes, too true!” a voice called from down the hall. The man standing there had sunglasses on and was wearing a nice leather jacket, with a T-shirt and jeans. At the very least, his shoes seemed to be somewhat new and formal, but the guy didn’t immediately strike Roman as someone who would fit in a castle such as this. “You must be my next client, the name’s Remy! Let’s come on, now, after all we don’t have much time before your big day!”

“Don’t remind me,” Roman complained. “My stomach twists in knots thinking about it.”

“Ah, relax, babes, you’ll look amazing when I’m through with you,” Remy said. “I can make anyone look amazing enough to stun everyone.”

“I don’t really care about that,” Roman said, walking into the room that Remy was standing next to, and when Remy closed it behind him, Roman said, “I just care that it’s a suit and not a dress.”

“Ah, yeah, the king called me, babes, told me about the change of plans. I took the liberty of bringing a couple of the binders I’ve made in the past over to see your size and get accurate measurements for the suit tonight.” Remy walked over to a box and pulled out a couple different tank tops. “What’s your cup size?”

Roman crossed his arms and huffed. “That’s hardly any way to treat someone you’ve only just met.”

“Babes, I need to know so I can get the right sized binder, not so I can drool over your measurements,” Remy said.

“C-cup,” Roman sighed. “They’re not huge, but they’re still too big for my taste.”

“Understandable, babes,” Remy said, pulling out a plain white tank and tossing it at Roman. “Put it on like a shirt. Warning, you will get stuck. At least once.”

Roman took off his suit coat and blouse without issue, but he hesitated at the bra, with Remy still standing there and observing. “Uh, you gonna turn around?” he asked.

“I need to make sure you’re not going to die in that thing, babes, and if you get stuck I’ll be the one who has to help you. And anyway, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Remy said. “You have my word that I won’t try anything, m’kay?”

“Okay,” Roman breathed, unhooking his bra and sliding it off. He took the tank top and pulled it over his head, got his arms through the holes...and couldn’t pull it down any further. “Um?” Roman tried to move his arms, weakly grabbing at the bunched up fabric. “Is this normal?”

“It is a newer chest binder, so yeah,” Remy said. “May I?”

Roman tugged and tugged but nothing budged and he was still stuck. He sighed. “Yeah, sure. Just don’t grope anything.”

“Would never dream of it, babes,” Remy said. He walked over, grabbed the bottom of the tank, and gently pulled it down over Roman’s chest, and down to just above his pants. “How does it feel?”

Roman was too stunned to respond. When the binder went on, his chest looked...completely flat. He looked like a man from the torso up. He grinned. “That’s amazing,” he breathed. He tried to inhale but stopped about halfway through what he should have been able to do. “I can’t breathe very well, though.”

“Do you feel like you can’t get air in or does your breath just feel short?” Remy asked. “Because those are two very different situations.”

“It feels short,” Roman said, still struggling to breathe deeply.

“Okay, then that’s completely normal. Binders constrict your whole chest, not just your breasts, so as a result you’ll feel short of breath the first couple times you wear them. You also shouldn’t wear them swimming unless they’re specifically built for swimming in, and you should never exercise in one, clear?”

“Crystal,” Roman said.

“Good. Most trans guys I know tend to wear their binder every day until they get surgery. Not all of them, but enough. And as tempting as it might be to keep it on all the time, your body has limits you shouldn’t cross. Meaning no exercise, no swimming, take it off after eight hours or whenever your body starts to ache, and for the love of god, don’t sleep in it,” Remy instructed.

“Got it,” Roman said. “I probably won’t be able to wear it around the castle, though, anyway, because of my mother...”

“Yeah, I gotcha, babes. I won’t force you to hide this in your room, I might need it when I go to sew everything together, anyway. But I need to know it fits you, and that you know your limits in it, before I can go any further.” Remy moved away and grabbed a measuring tape. He grinned. “Now comes the fun part,” he said with obvious glee.

Roman felt dread build in the pit of his stomach. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I’m going to measure you!” Remy said. “And it’s going to take a while to get everything right, which means I have a captive audience of one!”

Roman’s relief only appeared at a fraction of its usual intensity. “What do you want to talk about?” Roman asked.

Remy’s eyes lit up. “Okay, so I have a boyfriend, right? His name is Emile. Sweetest guy on the planet. Also dumb as rocks.”

Roman nodded along as Remy continued, which mostly consisted of this boyfriend of Remy’s trying to earn the trust of a local feral cat in the area. And every time he went to pet it, the cat would hiss, or scratch, or bite Emile. Clearly, Emile just thought he hadn’t built up enough trust in the cat and kept trying, kept continuing to try and pet the stupid thing, only to again, get scratched, or bitten, and get a tetanus and/or rabies shot. And, to top it all off, the man was terrified of needles.

“Why don’t you tell him to wait to pet the cat?” Roman asked.

“I have!” Remy said. “I tell him every time he comes home with a scratch or a bite that he has to wait! And he might never get to pet it because, you know, it’s feral, but he doesn’t care! He just keeps trying, babes, and honestly I worry about him. He has a PhD in Psychology, but he’s got approximately zero common sense.”

Roman giggled. “Hey, my parents are the leaders of an entire country, and they don’t have any empathy to speak of, so maybe that’s just a common thing if you’re an expert at one thing. You’re absolutely terrible at another.”

Remy sighed. “I hope not, babes. I hope there’s at least one competent person out there who can do everything mostly okay, you know?”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Roman said. “But if that one person isn’t in a position of power, then what sort of difference are they going to make?”

“You never know,” Remy said with a shrug. “Someone who’s good enough with people can find those who will be listened to.”

“But if they’re that good with people, then that means they’re no longer a jack of all trades, and therefore they will be incompetent at something,” Roman pointed out.

Remy gave Roman a slightly irritated glance. “Are you always this annoying and determined, babes?”

“Only around people I’m comfortable with,” Roman said, letting Remy circle him and keep humming to himself about measurements.

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