#wrote a speech today 0-[-[

[ambitions-of-an-eccedentesiast]

ooooooooooooooo the green is backkkk

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[siilvan]

Could you please write a platonic fic with reader and Nikolai? Maybe with a little bit of peril involved so they are both worried for each other?

crash site

characters: nikolai

summary: after your pilot crashes in the middle of a war zone while trying to extract you, a reverse rescue mission ensues.

genre: general, gn!reader (bravo 0-5; no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, mild descriptions of injuries, inaccurate medical care, nik and reader get hurt, mutual worrying, i wrote this w/ a migraine i’m sorry

word count: 3.2k

note: anon i hope you know i love you for requesting something that i already sorta wanted to write

also so sorry this took so long, i hope you enjoy <3

you instinctively raise your gun when a bullet flies past and pierces the half-destroyed concrete wall just in front of you. various shouts in a language you can’t understand soon follow, and your heart races as you spin around to confront the enemy.

the mission was supposed to be simple. get into the city, take out the target, and get out without being compromised.

the first two objectives went without any trouble, but your escape was compromised the second the target’s body hit the ground. that’s how you ended up in this situation - with a single magazine in your gun, a city of armed men pursuing you, and no signs of backup in sight.

not to mention the approaching sandstorm, you mentally add to the list, blinking back tears as rough grains of sand whip around and obscure your vision.

you manage to take out the group actively giving chase, which then leads to your next problem: you’ve completely run out of ammo. even your sidearm was emptied as you fought through the small militia, and you lament the speech that price is going to give you about "being prepared" once you make it out.

vaulting over the short wall brings you to a city square. you crouch low near a stack of crates and building supplies, hoping that the chaos of the situation and the sandstorm would mask your presence to the various search parties nearby. you scan the area for any weapons while moving undercover; the last thing you need is to be caught without a way to defend yourself.

if you had a nickel for every time things did not go to plan today, you’d be rich enough to retire. a yell and a bullet landing near your feet signaled that, despite your best efforts, one of the parties spotted you.

you rise to your feet and lift your hands, praying that a surrender would buy you some time. the square fills up, and soon you’re stuck in place as several dozen guns are pointed right at you. there was no way you’d be getting out of this, even if you did miraculously find a weapon during your brief search.

the apparent leader of the group steps toward you, repeating some command - or, perhaps a question, you couldn’t tell - while the others slowly form a half-circle around you. several of the soldiers look antsy, hands twitching as they adjust their grips and rest their fingers against the trigger, like they were just waiting for an excuse to open fire. your stomach churns at the thought of someone getting a little too anxious.

your radio suddenly crackles to life for the first time since you confirmed the target’s death. at the same moment, a distant silhouette in the sky catches your eye. you focus on it and squint, trying to make it out through the ever-increasing cloud of sand, before a familiar voice catches your attention.

"0-5, get down!"

before you can even register who the voice belongs to, you follow the order and drop to your knees. the sound of heavy gunfire surrounds you immediately after, forcing you to lift your hands in an attempt to protect your head as every other person in the city square was gunned down. you bite back a panicked noise when the men closest to you are dispatched, worrying that whomever was in control would accidentally hit you, as well.

when the dust settles, both literally and figuratively, you cautiously lower your hands and lift your head again, scanning the area once more.

as expected, every soldier around you laid dead. some laid on their stomachs due to the unexpected ambush, others were on their backs after attempting to confront the source. your eyes flicked back to the sky, towards the silhouette you had seen before.

even through the sand and dust, you could make out the all-too familiar helicopter hovering near your position. it was a little unsteady, clearly a victim of the intense wind and debris in the air, but you grinned at the sight nonetheless.

"ace shots, nikolai." you let out a relieved laugh after reaching for your radio. "i’m surprised you can fly in these conditions."

"not for long, so let’s make this quick," he says, and you watch as the chopper attempts to land on one of the nearby roofs. "the storm will be here any minute. seems like i got here just in time, no?" he adds with a smug chuckle.

"i’ll be sure to send a thank-you card after this!" you huff and rush to the building he was landing on. for the first time today, things seem to be going according to plan; a ladder inside leads directly to the roof, which you quickly ascend with renewed vigor, and wait impatiently for the chopper to touch down.

you aren’t sure why, but a wave of cold dread washes over you once you reach the rooftop. your attention shifts from your escape to the nearby buildings and streets as you give your surroundings a once-over. surely it’s just adrenaline, you tell yourself.

you spot a figure in the window of a house just a block away. they’re kneeling behind the edge, eyes trained in your direction, pointing something directly at the building you were standing on top of. you stare at the mysterious object in their hands, until they carefully shift their aim a little higher. directly at nikolai, you realize just a second too late.

"watch out–!" you frantically shout into your radio. even if the weapon, which you now recognize as an RPG, hits the building and damages it, your chances of survival were far superior to nikolai’s own.

before your warning can reach him, however, a rocket is fired at the helicopter. you can only watch helplessly as it connects with the tail and sends the vehicle spiraling out of control. despite the damage, nikolai manages to maneuver it upwards while attempting to regain control. a second rocket is fired shortly after and hits the engine, stripping the pilot of any control as the vehicle practically falls from the sky. it crashes into the ground a decent distance away, and your stomach drops at the scene.

you scale the side of the building at breakneck speed and start towards the crash site, completely ignoring the eminent threat at your back as you pray for his safety. you didn’t care about empty guns, failed escapes, or compromised assassinations - you’d take a hundred of each before losing any of your teammates.

you’re swiftly given a cold reminder of your situation during your mad dash to nikolai. you duck into an alley and press your back against the wall as a team rushes down the street, no doubt heading to the same place as you. with a deep inhale, irritating your throat as sand and dust contaminates the air, you push off and follow their path.

come on, nik… you mentally beg the man. this is no way for you to die.

the combat knife tucked in your vest, your last line of defense, finds its home in the neck of one of the soldiers when you attack him from behind. you grab his rifle and dispatch the nearby soldiers, silently thanking the sandstorm for finally hitting the city in full force. it was impossible to see more than a few feet in front of you, but such was the same for the enemy.

"0-5… can you hear me?" a strained voice comes through your radio and just barely cuts through the raging storm. nikolai. thank god.

"i hear you– nik, what’s your status?"

a pained grunt and the sound of creaking metal answers your question. "i don’t think we will be flying out of here–" he cuts himself off with a sharp hiss. "i’m not sure i can even stand."

"i’ll get us out of here," you tuck yourself into the shadows again as a patrol passes by, the lights on their guns permeating through the dust cloud and highlighting their position. "just stay put for now. get to cover if you can, i’m on my way."

"the enemy will have me surrounded within minutes, 0-5. you cannot fight a militia alone."

you click your tongue and shake your head from side to side, as if he could see you. "i’m not leaving you, nikolai. i’ll sooner drag you out by my teeth than abandon you." a stiff laugh and a muttered comment about your "stubbornness" was his only response.

the group that previously passed you was now stopped in an intersection, exchanging words with another small party. you squint at them and manage to count eight in total. difficult, but manageable. you had the benefits of stealth and surprise on your side, at the very least.

with a slow inhale and exhale, you open fire on the group. you take out two of them before the others start their search, frantically pointing their guns in every direction. once again, the lights gave away their positions; your rifle didn’t have a flashlight, allowing you to stay concealed as you picked the remaining members off one by one.

you reach for your radio again after you confirm the kills. "still doing okay?" you ask, continuing towards his location.

a second passes before you get a reply. "i am still alive, at the very least," nikolai grunts softly, and you recognize the sound of not-so-distant voices through his radio. "they haven’t found me yet. too worried about you to conduct a proper search, i assume."

"hopefully i can reach you, then. it’ll be difficult, but it’s not impossible to slip by." you notice the crash site after rounding a corner and running a few more blocks. it was yet another area that resembled a plaza, with several soldiers dotting both the inside and the outskirts.

"be careful." he speaks slowly, and you push down the worry that stems from his tone. instead, you try to reassure him. "always am, nik. just try to keep your blood in until we get out of here."

you approach the entrance and quietly dispatch the trio standing in your way. judging by the sounds of panic that followed, the gunshots weren’t entirely drowned out by the winds. that’s fine, you inwardly boast. even if they investigate the noise, they’ll come up empty-handed; you move on before the alarm is even raised. weaving through their sights is easy enough, thanks to the soldiers’ scattered and uncoordinated paths. nonetheless, you take out as many as you safely can.

before long, you come across debris from the crash, and you follow it until the main body of the helicopter is visible. you physically cringe at its ruined state until a whisper-shout of your name from somewhere nearby catches your attention. doing your best to follow it, you shove some metal scraps - hot to the touch, even through your gloves - out of the way.

you have to choke back a relieved sigh when you finally locate nikolai, leaning against more of the wreckage while clutching his side.

"never been so happy to see you," you chuckle and reach for his free hand. with a soft grunt of effort, you pull him to his feet and guide him to rest his weight against you. "i’ve got you, just lean on me."

"we need to hurry…"

nikolai’s words are brushed off by your gentle shushing as you make for an exit - easier said than done with the state he’s in. "i know, i know… we’re almost there, just need to get out in one piece."

"you don’t understand–"

his warning is cut off by bullets whizzing past your legs. you regret brushing him off as your adrenaline is sent into overdrive, and you practically carry him out of the plaza. you search for cover before your eyes settle on a small house with boarded windows; inconspicuous, but you really don’t want to back yourself into a corner.

an acute pain in your shoulder makes you reconsider the latter concern. you stumble forward, tightening your grip on nikolai as he nearly collapses from the sudden movement, and resign to your fate.

your lungs are burning by the time you reach the building. you shove the door open and haul the both of you inside before kicking it shut again. cautiously, you scan the interior, fingers twitching as you prepare to grab the rifle slung over your shoulder. the house was meager, you realize; a small sitting area bordered an even smaller dining room, with a modest kitchen that was surely emptied a long time ago.

you stagger to the torn-up sofa in the sitting area and maneuver nikolai to lay on his back, apologizing under your breath at every pained noise that left his lips. the rifle is leaned against the wall as you shove a tall wooden shelf across the room to block the front door, creating a decent barricade.

well, "decent" was a generous description. it would buy you a precious few seconds, at most.

the sharp pain in your shoulder bleeds into an agonizing throb from the effort, and you desperately try to shake off the feeling. your minor injury didn’t matter right now.

"we don’t have much time," you say while shifting your focus back to nikolai. "i’ll patch you up as much as i can. no point in escaping if you bleed out, yeah?" you add with a forced chuckle, trying to ease the both of you. the only interior doors lead to a bedroom and bathroom, and you search both for any supplies.

following the apparent theme of this mission, the only useful items you find are fabric, some foam, and a basic first-aid kit. the kitchen and dining room are equally as frugal, with a half-emtpy bottle of alcohol and a pair of small metal rods as your only rewards.

"you’re not a medic," nikolai says, staring at you from the corner of his eye while you gather the supplies on a nearby table. you huff and begin looking over his injuries. "it’s me, or a grave. pick your poison." you briefly meet his gaze and smile. he concedes and remains silent as you continue the examination.

considering what he had been through so far, his injuries were surprisingly minor. the worst of it was a laceration on his forearm and a fracture below his knee. there was also the bruised and broken ribs, but you couldn’t do anything about those. the smaller cuts just needed to be disinfected and bandaged, depending on the severity - all things that you were perfectly capable of doing.

despite the bad luck, you managed to gather just enough to make a splint for his leg. a shitty splint, but it’s better than nothing.

you start with the fracture, doing what you can to stop the bleeding and disinfect the wound. he hisses in pain when you try to move his leg to apply the padding, and you mumble another apology. the rest of the process goes as smoothly as it can, given the circumstances. you manage to make the splint and wrap his lower leg with the cloth you found, securing it in place.

after checking the splint, you move on to his arm. the first-aid supplies included a suture kit that you were already loathing having to use. your hands shake as you prepare it and clean the wound, taking a deep breath and internally recoiling at the scent of blood.

the stitching is about as torturous as you expected, for nikolai more than yourself. he is remarkably calm, though the occasional grunt or groan still escapes his tightly pressed lips. you finish the procedure as quickly as possible for his sake, tying the thread off and cleaning the area again before wrapping it in the leftover bits of cloth.

"it’s not much, but it’ll suffice for now." you send him another smile. he breathes deeply and nods his head, inspecting your work.

"you are a better medic than i thought," he confesses and nods again. "i’ll definitely put in a good word with the captain." he chuckles softly. his gaze shifts to you, and you’re reminded of your own injury.

before he can say anything, you stand up and grab your gun from its spot. "i’ll be fine. we’ve already spent too much time here, anyway." you sling it over your uninjured shoulder and head to the wall opposite of the front door. the planks boarding the windows were weather-damaged and easy enough to pull off. you detach one and peek through the gap.

the street was quiet, thankfully. the soldiers must have lost track of you after you ducked into the house - at least, that’s what you hoped for. further down the street, you spot a car. your escape.

"see anything?" nikolai asks. you turn back and hum affirmatively.

"there’s a car down the road. if it has fuel, we can drive out of here."

"the militia won’t follow us outside of the city."

you nod towards him. "exactly. i’ll head over and check it out."

nikolai jolts upwards, before grunting and clutching one of his various injuries. "you’re not heading out there alone. the enemy could easily ambush and overwhelm you like they did before."

"it’ll be far faster for me to look at it alone," you argue while pulling the other planks off the window frame. "you can’t walk on your own, let alone fight, nik. this is our only option."

you swing one leg over the edge of the window and shoot a glance towards him. "i promise i won’t be gone for long."

the storm immediately takes you off-guard again, and you clutch your weapon close as you jog towards the car. it was an all-terrain vehicle, left behind by one of the militia groups. you check the fuel gauge and sigh a breath of satisfaction at the half-full tank of gas. best of all, the keys were left in the ignition.

must’ve abandoned it during one of the skirmishes, you think. those weren’t so unlucky, after all.

you head back to the house and find nikolai trying to lift himself from the sofa. "so impatient," you comment, pulling his arm over your shoulders and offering yourself as a support once more. "seems like the car is going to work. just a little further, nik."

he mutters something in russian that you assume is positive, based on his relieved tone, as the two of you head for the exit. both of you stumble towards the car together, fighting against the storm and your own exhaustion that is slowly but surely creeping in, ignoring the painful ache that plagues you from head to toe.

you get nikolai settled in the passenger’s seat before circling the hood and turning the keys in the ignition. the vehicle sparks to life, and every horrible twist and turn is all but forgotten as you speed down the street. the edge of the city isn’t terribly far from your current location, you can make it.

"it’s funny," you say, barely audible over the turbulent winds. "usually you are the one driving and saving our asses, but now the roles are reversed."

nikolai shakes his head. "one save does not make up for a hundred, 0-5. you still owe me." he replies with a self-satisfied grin, earning a frustrated curse from you as you cross the city border.

sure enough, the captain had his speech prepared before you even left the medical bay.

[eluxcastar]

Ok lets go SImply reblogging your oneshot for my req isn't enough i need to analyze and annotate the entire thing like a literature professor and tell you Everything. (✿◡‿◡)

pantalone might be ooc

He's not!!!!!! by which i think this is fairly a Really Good portrayal of the guy considering the 5 sentences we know about him. He's strict!!! frankly a little scary!! And also chill and positive about loverboy!! But it felt Just Right!!!! ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

descriptions of blood

description so good i might as well have killed that man myself

...pretend that his lore has a spot where this fits perfectly

I think i can make it fit!! would you be cool with making minor changes if so?

"You're very good at what you do."

Imagining the same voice as sebastian michaelis saying this with the sexiest buttersmooth voice is eviscerating me. Very self-indulgent but praise kinks will always slay so hard.

...on the verge of stabbing him a moment ago. 

This,, and the small thing i wrote about loverboy launching them both out the window to escape an onslaught of assassins in my other req. get you a ship where one of them has completely normal knee-jerk reactions to kill the other <3

...as he crushes their hand beneath his shoe without mercy

Fatui Harbingers - House of Wolves - KIERU 0:15

...Instead, Pantalone looks unfazed by it all, stopping as he reaches the other side of you, free of most of the blood. He greets you with a knowing smile as he usually does.

hey ririto this is so ominous and eerie for some reason not known to me. Just the backdrop of grey and snow and probably a gruesome corpse right next to loverboy and Pantalone has a silent smile through everything. Delicious sentence 10/10.

"I knew making you a banker was a good idea,"

THIS IS SO. The confidence and quite calm assurance that pantalone says this with is SO. You'd never be sure whether to lean into it and let out a sigh of relief,, o r back up further becuase it sounds so good but all in the wrong ways.

...thumb brushing across your bottom lip slicked with blood.

fellas is it professional to feed double edged words of honey to your young inexperienced subordinate while kneeling in front of his battered and bruised self who killed someone for you,, and run a gloved thumb across his blood soaked lip. ( ͡• ͜ʖ ͡• )

"Who knew you had so many other talents,"

you are infusing these dialouges with crack cocaine giggling kicking my feet while being slightly concerned because Sir. What do you mean by that.

"Ah ah," he says, a harshness seeping into even just that sound. "Stay."  You stay put,

thank you for making loverboy so Ouppy.

"Lord Harbinger," you try to say

yes,, this could be a minor thing to adjust: i think we could actually fit this oneshot somewhere AFTER he gets his vision,, and BEFORE Pantalone becomes the Harbinger Regrator. Can be a valid reason for Pantalone to see that reader failed to kill the assassin from their shitty negotiation meeting,, and wanting to newly test him again after he had his vision + ambitions awakened to see if he can get past the fear of killing NOW. (Even then,, maybe due to inexperience/unfamiliarity of using visions, reader didn't think to raise his advantage of supernatural powers against another visionless man in this scenario.)

I'd think his first kill was one of the factors that caused him to leave after his 3year duty, not sticking around for Pantalone's promotion to Regrator.

"You are much like your father."

Top 10 things Not to say to someone with daddy issues-

...they're as wet behind the ears as you are.

Dear diary, Today i learned a new speech of expression

...Pantalone's hand that rests on your chin moves... "Now, try again. Dear banker, whatever do you mean?" 

this whole paragraph. What on earth do you mean 'ooc pantalone'. This is the MOST pantalone thing you could've written. Strict and intimidating about improving reader's meek attitude. a Push in the right direction.

"Is this a test?" you manage, words muffled by the way he squishes your face like putty beneath his fingers.

(thank you for making loverboy so Ouppy) x2

...and you know who, regardless of how 'anonymous' that source may have been in his words.

I MAY BE STUPID. （；´д｀）ゞ I CANT TELL. who you are hinting towards 😭😭

"Hold this," he adds, an unnervingly tender instruction for the way he was just behaving. 

There he is. its reminding me of: the same pantalone that washed reader with a clock in my very first req to you.

...looking probably about as pathetic as you think you do.

POV: You're Pantalone looking down at Loverboy.

I forgot how much of a bug-eyed wet dog loverboy is before his time-skip "character development" so to say. Thanks i love him.

"next time someone approaches you from behind, don't wait to stab them. Don't reach for your wet knife with your wet hands, either. Both of those things will get you killed."

I think pantalone is entirely having too much fun with observing Loverboy try climbing the ropes to how REAL fatuus run business.

"Come now. You want to go home and back to Liyue, don't you? I'm tired of this cold." 

Σ(っ °Д °;)っ back to liyue??? Loverboy is Liyuean??? pantalone stays in liyue??? I ALWAYS THOUGHT arlecchino called pantalone a bitch in Signora's funeral for "never leaving the comfort of his homeland?" Whuh-?

ALL IN ALL,, CLOSING THOGUHTS,, GOOD FOOD RIRITO DINNER HAS BEEN SERVED, ATE, AND LICKED CLEAN 10/10 ILY

I GOTT THIS JUST BEFORE I WENT TO SLEEP AND ONLY JUST GOT THE TIME TO ANSWER IT BUT I KNEWWW YOU WOULD GET THE HOUSE OF WOLVES REFERENCE

That is true actually and I realised after I posted it that like, wtf is in character for him?? 😭 he's said like two things and while I have memorised those things they're not a lot to go off but I'm glad you enjoy him (ﾉ´▽｀)ﾉ♪

Also if you can make it fit, feel free ☆(≧∀≦*)ﾉ I sorta only had a vague idea of where it might go, but at that point in time, loverboy works abroad in the Northland Bank. I'll also throw in that he travelled there for that job and unfortunately does not come from Liyue 😔 (unless he's supposed to?? I got the impression he was from Snezhnaya) it was more a "I bet you'd love to be back at a desk job rn" or something to that effect, loverboy is going back to the bank once things are settled where he belongs but Pantalone isn't going with him (hence why they're in Snezhnaya when this happenscause I also interpret at as him not liking to leave Liyue)

I'm so glad the J Michael Tatum love never stops but also you're so right praise kinks absolutely do. I also noticed that them trying to kill each other is like, a repeated theme so far 😭⁉️ LIKE WHEN PANTALONE WENT TO FIND HIM LAST ONESHOT HE WAS GONNA KILL THAT FUCKER

Confident possibly mildly degrading Pantalone is literally my favourite thing, like I chew on him. I chew on him being unnervingly calm because what would he have in the eyes of a wet mop boy besides an unwavering poker face. Get yourself a man who uses the blood of your enemies like your lipstick and knows he made good choices stationing you at his shady probably money laundering black hole of debt he calls a bank

Yk I agree actually I was trying to figure the timeline out in my head and realised it would've made more sense to happen before he was a Harbinger so I agree with this revision that actually makes it fit the lore and if I ever decide to make it a longer multichapter fic I'll definitely fix that 💀 t'was a victim of laziness

YES YES THIS Pantalone basically shaping him up so he doesn't literally die and being strict with it get so him. He'll prompt him to say it again but won't let it slide because that behaviour isn't going to be beneficial, especially not with someone who may be working under him long-term

I went back to read the part about the anonymous source line came from, and I think I figured out what happened here, so allow me to explain  (;ﾟдﾟ)   Ok so, it has a bit to do with the weird way I wrote this because when I said I wrote this on the train that was half a lie. I wrote some of it on the train and the rest at the library where I also edited what I already had because the spelling mistakes were atrocious. I did write down who it was but cut it when I decided it cluttered the story a bit which retrospectively was also a mistake because I didn't think about the fact it would seem like I was hinting at something at the time (ﾟ▽ﾟ*) the shorter, boring answer is that there's no one Ririto did a big silly and cut context in the chaotic editing this suffered

LMAO NOT THE CLOCK AGAIN

I love him the wet mop boy. I was like I want him to be at least a lil pathetic rn because his concerns are completely different. He's thinking about how to not die, and how much he misses his mom and his much fatui dick his dad must've been riding before death to think this career path was worth it (slash JOKING but he is still wondering why his father would have done this job willingly) that and I think men who whimper are cute thanks for coming to my Ted talk

HE IS ENJOYING IT and I love it sm

Hehe I am glad to know you haven't gone hungry today (^o^) and such high ratings for the banker and loverboy

[s0lar-ch3ri]

hey new draft making

i keep putting this off, but it today arrives! a ramble about ryan selucreh to fill tghe tag for once

(spoilers for mythborne ahead BUT ITS BEEN OUT FOR A WHILE FOR FREE NO PATREON REQUIRED PLEASDE CHECK IT OUT I NEED MORE MYTHBORNE FRIENDS IN MY JRWI MUTUAL CIRCLE)

so who even is ryan selucreh? well, hes a football jock and a big oaf, the stereotypical strong dumb athlete kid. however, theres more to ryan that we're diving into, years after the oneshot ended!

one thing to note on ryan is how his powers were gotten in a mix of ways aster and connor did. aster was born with them (assumed cause goddess mother), connor got them from a book (recieved from searching, wasnt born with it), ryan got his powers from squats. silly, sure, but like i said, its like the inbetween of the two. he has the power himself and doesnt need a book for them or anything, but he wasnt born with them either. i also wanna note how asters powers are like life (plants and the sun, both can symbolize life) and connors powers are like death (decay and disintegrating, both are related back to death), but ryans powers cant be "like" anything. its not something super showy, hes just super strong (strong enough to rip a mountainin half im pretty sure was confirmed).

lwts get into those comments ryan made, and how its reflected across the 3 episodes. yeah, the comments on faking his personality around people and how he doesnt know who he is anymore.

first showing of this is with the j crew. charlie gave a good idea (he was nicknamed jyan), but condi says he told them that. granted, it was probably to be funny, but theres other options to that. ryan missaid his name out of nervousness, the j crew misheard him, he wrote his name really wrong, so many different options that also are pretty comedic. yet, ryan told them he was jyan to join their team.

on the floatball jersey he wears, they didnt even have a 10 for him, simply a jersey with a 1 and a "poorly painted 0". did someone else use the 10? why didnt they have one? another way ryan changed for people symbolically, wearing one number but being another.

ryan joins in with the omnious curse speech despite it not being planned. an attempt to keep fitting in with his group there.

hell, ryan even was an ass to connor before when he was with the j crew, yet wasnt when he was with connor and aster alone.

he even goes out of his way to try and save asters dad, an act of carrying for her and her father. hes such a friendly and caring dude that hes trying to fit in with them all to keep up their friendships.

thats what makes the whole "i dont have a real personality" line mean so much. because he really doesnt. all that can be seen as his personality is simply to appeal to another person.

HELL IM FUCKING CONNECTING IN THE FACT THAR RYAN WAS A HISTORY MAJOR TO THIS! WHO EXPECTS THE JOCK TO LIKE HISTORY? NOT ME, I THOUGHT THAT WAS CONNOR, AND THATS WHY ITS SO INTERESTING, CAUSS NOTHING LEADS YOU TO BELIEVE RYANS INTERESTED IN THAT SHIT!!! ryan barely talks about his past or anything, minus the memory (but that was only to save professor aeliana), BUT HE DIDNT FUCKING BRING IT UP. kinda ironic, the character whos past is pretty unknown is in classes learning about our past.

oh yeah did i ever mention his parents are dead? cause they are (confirmed by condi a while back)

maybe thats why he tries to be so appealing to everyone, to make up for that missing link. i mean, its not like that event wouldnt have some impact on you (also no jrwi pc has gone to therapy from what i know so safe to assume he has no coping skills PLUS ITS A CONDI PC YPU THINK HES MENTALLY STABLE??).

another thing i learned: ryans last name is a backwards hercules. fun call back to the name, yeah, but the actual story may have some weight here...

the screenshot doesnt give the full story, of course, so i will. the picture leaves out how the reason he went through hardships was because he was driven to madness. according to research, hera was mad at hercules being born (for he was the product of zeus and a mortal woman), so she made him go crazy and slaughter his family. to make up for it, he was given 12 impossible tasks to do.

am i saying the full story applys? hell fucking no! i dont think ryan killed his parents or anything, but i think the jist can apply. a man trying to be forgiven by people for wrongdoings that wouldnt have happened if said people didnt make those wrongdoings happen. ryan trying to get the validation of his friends and acquaintances by pretending to be someone hes not, which wouldnt be needed if he could see friends accept people as themselves. given impossible missions (be someone else) to appease those who he looks to (whether its to the side or up to).

another thing to note is theres no episode cover with only ryan on it. cover 1 has all 3, cover 2 has background faceless frat members and connor, and cover 3 has only aster.

it could be from how there was only 3 episodes of mythborne, yet this could be solved by having all 3 in a cover at once. while it would have been a lot, they had all 3 in the first and a total of 4 characyers in thr second cover. this of course was a purposeful choice, and it shows in a way who the focus is meant to be on in that ep (all of them, connor, aster).

so why coupdnt ryan have been focused on in episode 1? yeah he was directly related to the chaos (j crew being first vicitms and shit), yet that clearly had a more general showing. its because ryan isnt a character who can be focused on. he crutches to his friends like a team relys to eachother, thats how he has purpose, thats how hes even a person.

i woulsnt even doubt the stupid bit being an act! to play in a sport, you actually do need good grades (in my school experience, above a C+ in all classes), and ryans been on this team since he started college (infered from dialoge with j crew member), probably since kindergarten even (has known j cre since kindergarten). he learnt it from them, and found it to be a possibly appealing trait of himself to others, everyone likes the lovable idiot! sure, what he does to play an act can be extreme, but if this is really thr coping mechanism i think it is, its not too much for him (also wanna note how of all characters ryan is the biggest stereotype caharacyer).

the 3rd episode btw seemed a lot from the cover and namr and all like the whole world was a fake (for me atleast), and isnt it fitting that ryan was the first to fall off the stage? the man, who had an identity crisis outloud for once after it seemed like one friendgroupd was about to learn his secrets, the first to exit stage down (stage direction jokes). hes been playong a play himself for what feels like his whole life by now, he doesnt need a script.

i came in here to talk about ryan, put him under a microscope, see who he is. really, ryans a shell of a person, a muscle soulless being pretending to be a person someone can love and care about. maybe he too thinks about how connor had changed inside to save him. whatever it is, i think ive not learnt from this who ryan selucreh is, and maybe if he gets aomething like this, he can learn himself who ryan selucreh is.

[masterofd1saster]

CJ court watch - free speech case

SCt decided National Rifle Association of America v. Vullo, 602 U. S. __ (2024) today, 30may24. Decision was 9 - 0. To give you some idea of how far New York and the 2d Cir. went awry, J. Soto-Mayor wrote the opinion.

Six decades ago, this Court held that a government entity’s “threat of invoking legal sanctions and other means of coercion” against a third party “to achieve the suppression” of disfavored speech violates the First Amendment. Bantam Books, Inc. v. Sullivan, 372 U. S. 58, 67 (1963). Today, the Court reaffirms what it said then: Government officials cannot attempt to coerce private parties in order to punish or suppress views that the government disfavors. Petitioner National Rifle Association (NRA) plausibly alleges that respondent Maria Vullo did just that. As superintendent of the New York Department of Financial Services, Vullo allegedly pressured regulated entities to help her stifle the NRA’s pro-gun advocacy by threatening enforcement actions against those entities that refused to disassociate from the NRA and other gun-promotion advocacy groups. Those allegations, if true, state a First Amendment claim.*** The District Court denied Vullo’s motion to dismiss the NRA’s First-Amendment damages claims. The court held that the NRA plausibly alleged that “the combination of [Vullo’s and Cuomo’s] actions . . . could be interpreted as a veiled threat to regulated industries to disassociate with the NRA or risk DFS enforcement action.” *** threat, the court said, crossed a First Amendment line. The District Court concluded that Vullo was not entitled to qualified immunity at the motion-to-dismiss stage****

The 2d Cir. apparently had no problem with NY's racketeering operation against NRA. "Nice insurance company you got here. You wouldn't want nothing bad to happen to it, would you?"

Vullo was free to criticize the NRA and pursue the conceded violations of New York insurance law. She could not wield her power, however, to threaten enforcement actions against DFS-regulated entities in order to punish or suppress the NRA’s gun-promotion advocacy. Because the complaint plausibly alleges that Vullo did just that, the Court holds that the NRA stated a First Amendment violation.***

Ultimately, Bantam Books stands for the principle that a government official cannot do indirectly what she is barred from doing directly: A government official cannot coerce a private party to punish or suppress disfavored speech on her behalf.***

In sum, the complaint, assessed as a whole, plausibly alleges that Vullo threatened to wield her power against those refusing to aid her campaign to punish the NRA’s gun-promotion advocacy. If true, that violates the First Amendment.***

There were two concurrences.

[astainedglasswindow]

For Lauren:

This is a meaningful and personal anecdote I have about Lauren. When I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease, I was terrified. I was scared and nervous and I felt guilt and shame. I was a 17 year old girl who had a diarrhea problem and I was swimming in a sea of aggressive high school girls, ready to pounce. I was afraid to be sad because I didn’t want to make my parents feel worse than they did and I really didn’t want to let myself feel sadness. I fought myself through the diagnosis and recovery. Constantly convincing myself that it didn’t hurt me, mentally, physically, or emotionally. I made ‘fake it till you make it’ my reality. 

But on one of my brief moments of weakness, Lauren mentioned the concept of infinity to me. I was told that my disease was incurable. my brain stopped listening after that. I heard stuck forever and I spiraled. It felt like a flaw that I would have to explain to my friends and my future husband. I felt broken without any explanations of how I got this disease and evidently, there was no cure. Adulthood started to look so different for me. I didn’t want a colostomy bag. I didnt’ want to have to watch what I eat. I didnt’ want steroids. I didn’t want infusions. I wasn’t sure how I would explain this to anyone, because the disease was so new to me. I wanted to know more but I was afraid of what I would learn. Lauren told me that forever isn't always bad. I thought, “easier said than done,” rolled my eyes, and told myself, I was on my own. I have to deal with this alone. She then explained to me why forever isn’t always bad. 

 She told me like my dad’s love for me, for example. My dad woke up every night for months, after my diagnosis. He wanted to make sure I was sleeping instead of running to the restroom alone, like I had been for months before.  That no one else would do that for me, without me asking. That my dad would love me and take care of me, even if I needed a colostomy bag. She then told me that her love for me, was forever. She then proceeded to tell me why it was great to have a restricted diet, as a female, that I would always be skinny. She tried to cheer me up, anytime I felt like I was in a dark hole, alone. She and my dad bought me a ring that had that symbol, infinity. I wear that ring every day, and every time I look at it, I think of them. She came through for me again. I had just had my first craniotomy and I unexpectedly lost my speech. 

I was scared and depressed. How would I continue my life? would I be permanently handicapped? I could only say a few words, “weird” was the constantly reoccurring word. It came out whenever I spoke. I called her, my dad, and jared. They were in the car. They tried to direct the conversation, knowing that I couldn’t really respond. They all tried their hardest, but it was apparent that it was difficult. they were worried about me and wanting to know how I was doing but I couldn’t tell them. I cried listening to them struggle to things to tell me about. Lauren made a joke about me saying the word “weird.” something along the lines of, “why do you keep saying that? what is weird?” she said it casually. Before anyone could stop her, I laughed. I laughed because she knew that I didnt’ mean to say weird, but it was the elephant in the room. It made this struggle, livable. It wasn’t being ignored or pretended like it didn’t exist. I genuinely laughed hard. Then Lauren told me she would see me soon, as if I was being dropped off at school, instead of at Stanford hospital waiting for my next craniotomy. Her making light of the situation, made everything seem like it was going to be ok.  

Lauren shared many of her interests and passions with me. One being reading. John Green one of our favorite authors wrote about infinities that stood out to both me and her. So I will end with this today. “I am not a mathematician, but I know this. There is an infinite between 0 and 1. There's .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities.” Lauren showed me that no matter, our love is forever and even though she passed away at such a young age, her influence and love live on. I notice things about myself, randomly, that I know she has impacted my life, for the better. I loved our quality time together, even if it's not as long as I want, some infinities are bigger than other infinities. 

[thelandscapingemployeetrap]

EXPLODE Your Service Business $200M Tommy Mello

A successful business requires a business mentality. If you want to succeed in your business, you need to think like one. Learn how to lead, not just how to work. This is how Tommy Mello made his career soar. The focus of his leadership development was not on how to solve problems but on how to improve his leadership abilities. Your mindset should be focused on cultivating your team. For him, he can hire a subject matter expert to solve problems he cannot solve. Rather than being ashamed, he encourages us to ask for help and find the best people for the job. The end goal should be to manage these people and grow your business by managing them, not to do everything yourself. 

In today's episode, we discuss leadership, culture, marketing systems, and recruiting the right people for your business. Be inspired by Tommy Mello's story and learn how he elevated his business. This episode provides you with an inside look at his secrets and strategy. 

  Tommy Mello owns A1 garage door service. Six years ago, he began his podcast to help entrepreneurs grow their businesses. He is a note-taker, and every time something comes up in his head, he writes about it. His success inspired him to write the first book Home Service Millionaire, and he then wrote Elevate, a book about attracting and developing a winning team. You can buy his book using this link: www.elevateandwin.com/keith

    “I never call people my employees. I like to call them internal customers. I like to call them my coworkers. I like to call them my team.”

 - Tommy Mello.

  Topics Covered: 

0:33 -  “Tommy Mello built a home service business specifically in the garage door industry from scratch up to 30 million 50 million, and now they're doing 200 million this year. He has over 700 employees.”

Introduction to Tommy Mello.

2:04 -  “I love what I do, man, and I'm opening up doors. The first thing I start with every speech I do is I'm in the garage for business. I'm in 23 states. If you like what we do, use our company, and see how we do things, but also have a graduate company looking to partner up with a great company that's going to take care of your internal customers, that's us. So at building little marketers out there. It's amazing what happens when you give. It's the byproduct of giving just good things happen.” 

Tommy shares how he got started in the business. He never refers to his employees as employees; he calls them his team. It's that kind of approach that builds a great leadership team. 

7:27 - |You guys are welcome to see my price book. And they never knew what he was doing so much better. While he was marketing to the right customers at the right time. He was branded correctly, and he didn't have turnover. And so you got to pay your people the right amount. Otherwise, your guy quits who's running the warranty call for the customer. They're not there who's running on weekends and nights To the holidays, oh, they're not there because they didn't treat my employees right. They didn't pay them appropriately to a living wage, they weren't able to be homeowners. So they had to move farther out away from the city. And now they can't work for me because they didn't make enough money. So I think the byproduct of taking care of people is your customers get handled in the same day service, they got the right parts, they got a trained technician that cares.”

Paying your employees appropriately was Tommy's main point. A good salary won't make them leave you. It is the byproduct of paying people what they are worth that they provide good customer service. Therefore, you must set your price high enough to cover the cost. 

12:35 - “A lot of times when I was smaller and business, I thought I was saving money by buying used trucks and not hiring the best and not getting the best trainers. And I thought I'd just help. But then I realized that I was actually losing money because things weren't hitting the finish line, and things weren't getting done. And it was kind of a hodgepodge put together. And all these ideas without hiring the best consultants, without reading books, without listening to great podcasts, without getting learning at great speaking events. I realized I was actually kind of shooting myself in the foot. I was actually making my life harder. And I thought I was going to be an expert at everything, but I became a jack of all trades, a master of none. Then I started investing in myself and everybody around me. And that conclusion has been very positive.”

Tommy admits that he can't do everything by himself. His secret to success is hiring the best of the best. Having a jack-of-all-trades approach won't help you succeed. It's important to stay on track with your schedule. Leadership skills can be improved by recognizing your weaknesses.

20:10 - “ I never want to be the bad guy. I'm not a good, bad guy. I'm not good at firing people. In fact, I'm probably too lenient on second or third chances. But I've really empowered my team. And I think that that's something that most business owners fail out.”

Don't be afraid to make big decisions and praise those around you. Encourage your team to make their own decisions and recognize their achievements.

38:06 -  “I learned the simple formula without a budget without numbers. How much are you spending as a percentage of revenue on marketing? And if it balloons for one month, why? what's working and what's not, when you can reinvest the things that are working all the time, and the evidence is clear, because you've got data integrity to make sure the numbers are right, then it's basically a compass. And you just got to follow TrueNorth to get where you want to go. And the CRM and the accounting tools allow you to do this, but a lot of people go accounting or smiling. I don't want to budget. It's too much work. And it is a lot of work. It's a lot of work to get it right. But when it is right, you'll find the Holy Grail.”

Tommy loves numbers, he's always calculating and computing. When it comes to business, numbers are very important to him. He ensures they meet their monthly KPIs. Every department maintains a scorecard to track performance.   

46:12 - “I want to see their six-month plan, their one-year plan, their three-year plan, their five-year plan, and then I want to show them how it could help them hit their goals. Same thing with vendors, the same thing with anybody. And that's the whole meaning of the word Elevate. You get to win when they win. And it doesn't need to be losers.”

Tommy explains why he wrote Elevate and what the book title means to him. 

  Key Takeaways: 

“People used to talk about me on Facebook before the podcast and say he's our villain. He is such a prick. He comes into our market. He takes our employees. He raises prices, and he charges too much. And others like, well, Tommy's a pretty good guy. I'm making a lot more money now. The employees are happier. My clients are happier, and my vendors are happier because our product mix is better. So they all won. And that's the hard part for people to comprehend. And it just doesn't make sense. But it works.” - Tommy Mello

“I really believe these things, and I just have you got an opportunity to grow to be whatever you want. I'm here to help you get to where you want to be. I want to know your dreams, your goals, and what you want out of life. And if we could work on these together, what do I get out of it? Number one, I love homeowners. We had two new homeowners last week. We got a new kid that came into the Awan family two weeks ago. It's amazing. Right now, yesterday, my guy rest of the hospital's wife's pregnant. I don't know if she has had the baby yet. But I love this stuff. So that's amazing. But what's also amazing about it is when they're winning, I'm winning. I tell them if their dreams are coming true, I know mine are. My dream has to be big enough for all your guys' dreams to fit inside. So when I watch every one of your dreams start to come true. The byproduct is I know, I know, I'm successful when you guys are hitting your goals because the way I designed the pay structures is it's inevitably that outcome.” - Tommy Mello

  Connect with Tommy Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thomasmello/ Podcast: https://podcasts.apple.com/podcast/id1341478446?ign-itscg=30200&ign-itsct=lt_p Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/officialtommymello/ Tiktok:https://www.tiktok.com/@officialtommymello YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCC95oOLvDda4V6LdyRoHb3w LindkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/tommymello/

Connect with Keith

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/keithkalfas/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thelandscapingemployeetrap Website: https://www.keithkalfas.com/resources Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@keith-kalfas

    Resources Mentioned:

The Home Service Expert: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-home-service-expert-podcast/id1341478446

Elevate: Build a Business Where Everybody Wins: https://www.amazon.com/Elevate-Build-Business-Where-Everybody/dp/B0BWSNBQZV

HVAC Spells Wealth: https://www.amazon.com/HVAC-Spells-Wealth-Ron-Smith/dp/142431481X

Rocket Fuel: The One Essential Combination That Will Get You More of What You Want from Your Business: https://www.amazon.com/Rocket-Fuel-Essential-Combination-Business/dp/1942952317

Traction: Get a Grip on Your Business: https://www.amazon.com/Traction-Get-Grip-Your-Business/dp/1936661837

Home Service Millionaire: https://homeservicemillionaire.com/

Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less: https://www.amazon.com/Essentialism-Disciplined-Pursuit-Greg-McKeown/dp/0804137382

The ONE Thing: The Surprisingly Simple Truth About Extraordinary Results:https://www.amazon.com/ONE-Thing-Surprisingly-Extraordinary-Results/dp/1885167776Surprisingly-Extraordinary-Results/dp/1885167776

Come Up for Air: https://www.amazon.com/Come-Up-Air-Leverage-Drowning/dp/140024384X

The Infinite Game: https://www.amazon.com/Infinite-Game-Simon-Sinek/dp/073521350X A1 Garage Door Service: https://a1garage.com/

Elevate: www.elevateandwin.com/keith

Jobber: https://getjobber.com/im/ambassador-referral/?gspk=a2VpdGhrYWxmYXM4NTIx&gsxid=Rs6pwtznLDcs

7 Steps To Marketing Your Business: https://www.keithkalfas.com/7steps

          Check out this episode!

[gogandmagog]

It’s so funny that you’ve asked this now! It’s a big question that requires a lot of thought from a lot of people to get its due solid answer, but if I can speak for myself?

I don’t think she was afflicted with racial prejudice, at least not towards indigenous populations of North America. (Nor any other races that I can think of, but perhaps I’m missing something somewhere that might incline a different thought from those groups. Mention of ‘Arabs’ from time to time, isn’t there?) I wouldn’t ever posthumously condemn someone as racially biased for use of archaic terms that were common speech that they didn’t realize were offensive. (If they did realize they were offensive... of course that’s different.) “Squaw,” as you’ve pointed out, hurts now, of course, but large media groups like Disney are just as guilty (and on a far larger scale) of such slurs and I believe that demonstrates just how casual and thoughtlessly-used these terms were.

I just finished basically throwing my life into the very narrow window of Montgomery’s early work (narrow in terms of what I’ve so far been able to access), and one of the very first things she had published (ever) was about a native girl, titled “A Western Eden.” She wrote it in 1891, when she was in Saskatchewan, with her stepmom and dad’s family. She has another story called “Tannis of the Flats,” which hit me a little strangely in the gut when I initially googled it, because there was a quote about Montgomery writing in it that the “half-breeds” are the prettiest girls, and a ‘half-breed' myself I simultaneously wanted to cringe into infinity and say ‘awoop, thanks Maud’! This is, again, not an uncommon-for-the-period thought and a stereotype that still exists today, across all ethnicities. (You can’t throw a stone without hitting a bigger 20th century offender for the problematic use of this term, just for instance, Cher [0% indigenous] singing her very madly popular “Half Breed” in a headdress and little else.)

Maud does a huge forward-thinking thing from time to time and steps away from ever maligning First Nations with (also common at the time, especially in literature) terms like “savages” and worse that I won’t repeat. Maud has references to Natives in dozens of her works. Even in Anne, there’s no trace of an ugly attitude for or about or towards them. She mentions Davy wanting a war bonnet, and even has a passage about PEI, that’s all, “the beautiful St. Lawrence Gulf, on which floats, like a jewel, Abegweit, whose softer, sweeter Indian name has long been forsaken for the more prosaic one of Prince Edward Island.” Softer and sweeter? These don’t exhibit a sour opinion at all.

There was a Native poet who was quite prolific and well liked in Maud’s time called Pauline Johnson. I’ve learned that Maud did a speech called “Pauline Johnson and her Contribution to Literature” to a women’s literary society of Ontario. The speech has no existing remains, though, so it’s all a guess work about what was said. But... I believe the title indicates that Maud had respect for Pauline’s work.

So, so far, from what I’ve been able to deduct, she was empathetic and a friend. She certainly didn’t ever reference sharing the stance of the majority at the time, which was that residential schools (assimilation) was a natives only ‘hope.’

Considering the duality of man, this evening. Every single time I think I've finally gotten a firm glimpse of just who Lucy Maud was as an admittedly-very-complex human, I'm thrown. Reading more and more Dr. Mary Rubio tonight, and finding out that solitary strand of relationship advice that Montgomery ever gave one of her son's wives, was to never let your husband see you naked, and to never see him naked; that her general approach to intimate relations within marriage was actually very Victorian after all. Further, that her relationship with Chester (the one that was a sex pest, and financial criminal), made people "very uncomfortable." (Nothing outright, don't flee for the hills!) Further FURTHER, that she wasn't interested in votes for women. This I already knew, but was reminded of. A certain Cornelia Bryant quote pops to mind here. ("I'm not hankering after the vote, believe ME," said Miss Cornelia scornfully. "I know what it is to clean up after the men. But some of these days, when the men realize they've got the world into a mess they can't get it out of, they'll be glad to give us the vote, and shoulder their troubles over on us. That's THEIR scheme. Oh, it's well that women are patient, believe ME!") Then when we hear also that Maud astonished the descendants of Herman Leard, when her journals were published, because they maintain that it was Maud who was infatuated with him (her journals imply he was gifting her with chocolates, in order to get her into his bed, think Dean Priest a little bit), despite him being engaged to someone else... get this... who looked 'just like Anne.' (I will assume this means red haired and freckled?)

All odd things to weigh against the woman I've built Montgomery up to be, in my mind and heart, but none of it able to detract from my interest and adoration for her; I'm very simply forever a fan. The hard and ugly parts of someone's life only prove that humans stay humaning.

[lostinwoso]

I could do this fic, where alexia comes back from injury and for some reason or form she is presented in the stadium and the reader is in the stands getting emotional and the cameras capture this moment. (the reader also plays for barça)

Where She Belongs (Alexia x Reader)

Today is the day.

Your girlfriend was finally cleared to be back on the field.

Helping her through the recovery, you know she is stronger than ever and ready to show everyone that she is still one of the best players out there.

Unfortunately for you, you can't be with her on the field, thanks to a small muscle injury you got earlier this week in training.

Before making your way to your seat, you are in the locker room with the girls, wanting to keep Alexia some company, knowing that she is slightly nervous about her first game after months.

Knowing it's almost time for the game to start, you pull her into a hug, "I'm so proud of you mi amor, you are going to play amazing." you softly whisper in her ear.

In return, you receive a soft "Thank you."

"Not for that, love." pulling back, you press a kiss to her head before pulling her into a real kiss, hoping to soothe her nerves a bit more.

"Get ready to walk out any minute!" you hear a voice yell from outside the room, with that you tighten your hug once more before making your way to your seat.

Not soon after the teams walk out onto the field, but before the game starts the announcer read out a letter which the team wrote together to welcome Alexia back onto the field also being handed flowers during the speech.

You can tell how much it means to her to be finally back, the emotions on her face clearly shown on the boards in the stadium.

Feeling tears coming to your eyes, you try your best to hold them in, but as soon as the speech was done and the whole stadium started clapping and chanting her name, you couldn't hold them back anymore. So you let them fall with a proud smile on your face.

She was finally back there where she belongs.

Unbeknownst to you is that the moment you started crying, the camera was focused on you, showing the fans watching from home your emotional moment.

________________________

The game was amazing, Alexia was on fire. The game ended in a clean 4-0, your girlfriend being included in every goal, two assists and two goals herself.

Making your way down to the field, you said your congrats to the girls you passed while searching for your girlfriend.

A pair of arms wrapping around your waist puts a stop to your search, turning around, you immediately pull her into a tight hug.

"I'm so proud of you, te amo." you tell her.

"I couldn't have done this without you, so thank you y yo también te amo." she replies, pulling you into a short kiss after, not wanting to get too touchy in front of all the people in the stadium.

After making rounds in the stadium to interact with the fans you all had a small celebration at a bar, due to it being in the middle of the season that's all you could go for.

________________________

Alexia is already in bed while you are still getting ready for bed in the bathroom, "Mi amor?", you hear your girlfriend say.

Turning off the lights in the bathroom, you make your way to the bed, "Yes?".

Waiting for you to get in next to her, she shows you her phone, your teary faced visible on the device, "You cried?" she asks you in a soft voice.

"Uh yea, I was just so proud and happy, to see you finally back on the field, with the attention you deserve." You say honestly, although a bit embarrassed too by the fact that everyone could see you crying.

Pulling you into her, she says a quiet "Thank you, I know you don't like me saying that but just let it slide, okay? I love you so much." She finishes, pressing a long kiss on your head.

"I love you too, now let's get some sleep, you deserve it after that amazing performance tonight."

With that, you two turn off the lamps on the nightstands, quickly falling asleep in each other arms.

[writing-on-the-wahl]

What Are The Odds Part 5

(Finally)

So fun story I wrote a continuation MONTHS ago but then realized I needed more to happen before that scene…. So i wrote this… PART 5 🤗

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

—————

The knock sounded at the door several hours after Hero had shut herself in the guest bedroom. She’d tried to fall back asleep, but their conversation and her childish flight from the room had kept her from slipping into a peaceful rest.

“What?” The word was harsh and sharp. Apparently it hadn’t been long enough to let her anger dissipate.

“Make a list of things you want my sidekick to pick up from your apartment.”

Hero’s heart sank at the unspoken message: you’re going to be here for a while.

Her back slid down the door as she sank to the ground, running the odds of surviving a jump out the penthouse window.

0%

Shocker.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she pressed her hands against them, hard.

If only she hadn’t asked Villain to kidnap her.

If only she hadn’t gone to the gala.

If only she hadn’t stumbled across those files.

If only, if only....

But the only odds she could see were in the future. There was no point looking back.

She ran the odds of Villain killing her today.

7%

Not bad.

She ran the odds of him catching her if she tried to escape today.

96%

Not great.

Hero sighed and pushed off the floor to find a pen and paper.

She had a list to make.

—————

Hero shifted from foot to foot in the entry of the Villain’s penthouse apartment as Sidekick gave Villain all the updates on the campaign and how many points Politician had lost in the polls thus far due to his association with and donations from Billionaire. Villain was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, a satisfied smirk growing with each bit of news. She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flitting to her.

She’d avoided speaking to Villain all day, hiding in her room and ignoring his frequent attempts to lure her out with the promise of food and company.

Unnerved by the attention, Hero focused on the bag still clutched in Sidekick’s hand. Her own hands were uncomfortably empty as she stood there, unsure if she was supposed to be overhearing the conversation.

As Sidekick switched to discussing the declining quality of Politician’s speeches, Hero checked the odds of Politician winning, then couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. Serve him right.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she ran the odds a certain golden-eyed villain was looking at her.

Yep.

Her heart fluttered for the briefest moment before she remembered why she was here. The smile fell from her face.

Hero shifted backwards, wondering if she should just return to her room and come back for the bag later.

Villain caught the movement and lifted a hand to cut off Sidekick’s breathless spiel. “Thank you, Sidekick. We can continue this in the morning.”

She nodded in understanding as she looked between Villain and Hero before extending the strap of the bag towards Hero. Hero slid the strap of the duffle onto her shoulder, shifting under its weight while Sidekick assured Villain that no one had seen her sneak into the apartment. Hero wasn’t sure how anyone could not see her in her six-inch stilettos and bright pink pencil skirt, but she kept that to herself.

Thanking Sidekick, she began to turn back down the hall that led to her room.

“Why the shampoo?”

Hero froze, the blood draining from her face at Sidekick’s query. She’d made sure to specify on her list that Sidekick bring her drugstore brand shampoo and conditioner.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Villain looking on with raised eyebrows as she mumbled something about liking the way it smelled. Heart racing, she excused herself to take a shower.

She placed her bag on the bathroom counter and pulled out her vanilla-scented shampoo, pretending not to notice expensive salon-brand shampoo in the guest bathroom.

Sometime later, she cracked open the bedroom door, her rumbling stomach relieved to find it unlocked. She slipped down the dark hall in socked feet, passing the the living room, where the half open door spilled the colorful lights from the TV into the hallway.

She kept her eye on the living room as she turned into the doorway of the kitchen.

Where she promptly collided with Villain.

Hero stumbled back against the doorframe, grasping the edge of the wood as her heart raced.

“Running away?”

The low voice sent a shiver down her spine, and her eyes shot up to where Villain’s face hovered mere inches from hers. One hand rested on the doorframe above her, trapping her in.

“No! I was just going to the kitchen.” She glanced beyond him towards the granite countertops, mahogany table, and her least favorite chair.

Villain was looking down at her with an inscrutable expression on his face.

Hero dropped her head, cheeks burning with shame as she remembered all the times Villain had knocked on her door today, offering food, sending Sidekick for her clothes…

He was unexpectedly considerate.

And she’d given him the cold shoulder all day.

She wasn’t angry anymore. She just felt hollow.

In truth, she hadn’t really been angry; she’d been afraid. Politician had made it very clear what would happen if she revealed what she’d stumbled upon. But it was easier to be angry than afraid.

“I’m sorry I was so angry,” she whispered, studying her fuzzy blue socks. It was the best she could do.

“It’s okay.” Warm fingers softly tilted her chin up. “I promised not to press you for answers and then I did. I’m sorry.”

His face was sincere, his voice regretful. Warmth spread through her.

There were questions she wanted to ask, odds she knew she should run. But all she could think about was the way his hand slipped from her chin to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Vanilla.”

“I- what??” Hero’s brain struggled to make sense of Villain’s quiet comment because somehow he was standing even closer than before.

“Your shampoo.” He fingered a strand of her long hair. “It’s nice.”

Her stomach was a menagerie of butterflies as he continued to twirl her hair between his fingertips.

She drew in a sharp breath as his smoldering eyes met hers.

His handsome features softened. “Hero…” the quiet murmur faded as his gaze moved down to her lips. His other hand slid up her shoulders and into her hair, gently cradling her head as he slanted his mouth down towards hers.

Hero leaned forward, and her eyes fluttered closed as the distance between them shrank.

A cold rush of air greeted her as Villain abruptly shifted away, his hands falling to his sides.

His voice was flat as he gestured to the kitchen. “Dinner is on a plate in the fridge.”

Then he strode past her, his bedroom door shutting with a deafening click in the silence he left behind.

It was a long time before Hero was able to drag herself to the fridge and collect the perfectly arranged plate of food.

Taglist:

@im-a-wonderling @shieldmaiden-of-gondor @watercolorfreckles @distance-does-not-matter @onestopheroxvillain @lolafaiy @chaoticgoodandi @1becky1 @tobeornottobeateacher @himynameisorla @superherosweet @brekker-by-brekkerr @crazytwentythrees @great-day-today @sunflower1000 @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @selectivegeekwithstandards @chibicelloking @trantolette @sapphiques @jinpanman @genesissane @wish1bone1 @amongtheonedaisy @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @glitterythief @jinx1365 @cherrychewingbrat @in-patient-princess

✨ Special thanks to @im-a-wonderling and @shieldmaiden-of-gondor for reading/editing ✨

[90363462]

Today marks thirty years since rage against the machine self titled debut album. Here’s the story behind their signature song Killing In The Name

Story Behind the Song: Killing In The Name by Rage Against The Machine

By Rob Hughes

( Classic Rock ) 

  published February 12, 2019

Inspired by the LA riots, Killing In The Name became an unlikely Christmas number one 17 years after its release

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Few rock songs have enjoyed an afterlife quite like Rage Against The Machine's Killing In The Namedid. Its adoption by a Facebook campaign in December 2009, intended to put the blocks on X Factor winner Joe McElderry claiming that year’s Christmas No.1 spot, was a phenomenal success. Killing... raced to the top by racking up more than half a million downloads, leaving McElderry behind and becoming the fastest-selling digital single ever. 

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The feat was all the more remarkable given that the track was 17 years old and peppered with potty-mouthed expletives – and the fact that Rage Against The Machine, who recorded it, had little to do with this second coming

“It took us completely by surprise,” admits guitarist Tom Morello. “It was a tremendous David and Goliath story. We only joined the campaign in the final week. It was completely ruled by the fans, and was one of the greatest things in my life.”

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Killing In The Name was riven with meaning, written at a key moment in recent American history. The beating of black motorist Rodney King by four LAPD officers in March 1991, captured on CCTV footage, had enraged the nation after it was serially beamed across every news channel. 

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It was an episode that fed directly into the wiring of Rage Against The Machine, a radical bunch of rap metal-heads who railed against all manner of societal and political ills. Formed in Orange County, California that year, they were led by singer Zack de la Rocha, son of a Chicano political artist and grandson of a Mexican revolutionary, and Morello, himself the scion of African insurrectionists.

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The track, Rage Against The Machine’s first single, bit hard on several levels. A righteous slam-bam of punk, hardcore and hip-hop, Killing In The Name was heavy on venomous polemic, burning its gaze into what the band saw as endemic racism in US security agencies. De la Rocha’s repeated mantra ‘Some of those that work forces are the same that burn crosses’ alludes directly to the Ku Klux Klan.

“I was in LA when the whole Rodney King episode went down,” explains Garth Richardson, producer of the song and 1992’s self-titled parent album. “That was a big thing for the city. Zack and I had a long talk about the power of speech and how whatever he needed to say, he had to say it. Malcolm X was a major influence in Zack’s life, and this was not the time to back down.”

The track’s slamming guitar motif, which echoed the no-compromise ferocity of its message, was more serendipitous.

“I was actually in the middle of playing bass in a guitar lesson,” Morello recalls, “and was teaching a student about the drop-D tuning when it came to me. I said to him: ‘Hold on one second’, and scribbled it down. Then we went into rehearsals that night and worked it out. It was part of the second wave of songs we ever wrote.”

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Killing In The Name is particularly notorious for its final verse, in which de la Rocha, having built to something of a belligerent frenzy, hollers: ‘Fuck you! I won’t do what you tell me!’ no less than 16 times, topped off by: ‘Motherfucker! Uggh!’ It’s an extraordinary climax, made all the more primal by Richardson setting up the studio with a concert PA and recording the band as if it were a live show.

“My jaw hit the floor,” he recalls. “The song was a standout for an anthem and it knocked me off my feet. We all felt this was going to be big. I knew that Tom’s sound was going to change the way guitars were being heard.”

"Zack and I had a long talk about the power of speech and how whatever he needed to say, he had to say it. Malcolm X was a major influence in Zack’s life, and this was not the time to back down."Garth Richardson, producer

However, the band did not instantly earmark it as a single.

“Heavens no!” Morello laughs. “We had a particular guy at the record company, Michael Goldstone, who was very sympathetic to what we were trying to say as a band. He was our ‘fifth Beatle’ for a while and very much high in our counsel. It was his suggestion that we release it as our first single. 

"It didn’t come from the band. So it was a case of, ‘Okay, let’s get this straight: it’s the record company who want our first record to be the one that goes, “Fuck you! I won’t do what you tell me!” 16 times, followed by a “motherfucker”?’ Sold! That wouldn’t have been my choice, but that’s how it worked.”

Goldstone may have been adamant about its release, but he nevertheless felt the track was too long. He asked Rage to remove two sections, but the band were having none of it.

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“Michael called me, and I was the go-between with the band,” Richardson says. “It went like this. Michael: ‘I want you to cut out those parts’. The band: ‘Tell him to fuck off’. Michael: ‘Tell them to fuck off’. Band: ‘Fuck you’. We all knew this song was a huge hit. It had so much power that the band and I were unwilling to let anybody change it.”

It drew even more potency by the time it was released on the album, in November 92. Rodney King’s police assailants had somehow been acquitted by a jury in court that April, a barely believable verdict that instantly triggered the LA riots. The whole affair did little to dispel the song’s claims of institutional racism in certain sections of American society.

Killing In The Name, unsurprisingly enough, was slapped with a radio ban across most US stations. The unedited video version was also censored on MTV. 

It was instead left to Europe to carry the flag, where the song enjoyed substantial airplay (albeit in ‘clean’ form, apart from one priceless moment when Radio 1 jock Bruno Brookes unwittingly played the original version in full on his Top 40 run-down) and made No.2. in the UK in February 93.

Bullet In The Head and Bulls On Parade were bigger UK hits for Rage in the 90s, but Killing In The Name remains their signifier.

“Having a UK Christmas number one in 2009, after all that time was a thrill of a lifetime,” says Richardson. “It just shows how much power people have and what they can do when they work as a group. 

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Rob Hughes

Freelance writer for Classic Rock since 2008, and sister title Prog since its inception in 2009. Regular contributor to Uncut magazine for over 20 years. Other clients include Word magazine, Record Collector, The Guardian, Sunday Times, The Telegraph and When Saturday Comes. Alongside Marc Riley, co-presenter of long-running A-Z Of David Bowie podcast. Also appears twice a week on Riley’s BBC6 radio show, rifling through old copies of the NME and Melody Maker in the Parallel Universe slot. Designed Aston Villa’s kit during a previous life as a sportswear designer. Geezer Butler told him he loved the all-black away strip.

[fernpost]

Cycle 0 - Interviews

[read on ao3]

[next]

Taako Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in transmutation and inventive magical applications.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

Davenport likes to think of himself as calm and composed. It’s hard to throw him off. He has to be in order to have gotten this far in his mission as fast as he has.

But when he turns around from shutting the door to see his interviewee with his feet kicked up on the table, twirling a wand through his fingers, he’s a little shocked. He’s been doing these interviews for two days now, and even the more relaxed and confident people have held a bit more sense for decorum.

It’s a bit rude.

It’s also a little interesting.

He sits at his desk, pulling the elf’s papers away from his boots (shiny, and though they look expensive he can see they’re worn down and well taken care of) and glances down. “Tell me, Taako Taaco, what makes you want to explore the planerverse?”

“Bored.”

If the feet on the desk threw him off for a second, that floors him entirely. “Bored?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do on this plane, why not, you know?”

“No burning desire to go further than any being has gone before?” That’s one of the normal responses, the well-planned out speeches he keeps getting in response to his opening question.

The elf crosses his feet, leaning back somehow further into the provided chair. Davenport worries for a second that he may fall as he continues on, “that’s cool too, I guess. But I figure, why wouldn’t you want the great Taaco name aboard your ship.”

Davenport picks up a pen from his table and makes a small note on the paperwork, “no offense, Mr. Taaco, but you’re rather cavalier about this interview that determines whether or not you’re accepted into a program that may redefine our understanding of the world.”

The elf shrugs and takes his feet off of Davenport’s desk, flashing him a smirk, “you’ve seen my sister’s paperwork, yeah? No way you’re not going to accept her, and we’re a package deal. Says it right there in bold at the top of my application, my man.” It does, in fact, say that at the top. Cursive words noting how he refuses to accept any position on the ship if his sister isn't there too. When reviewing who he was interviewing today, he saw similar words on Lup Taaco’s paperwork.

“You’re very confident in your sister’s abilities.” Davenport begins, pausing for a second as he notes the way the elf begins to tense up before continuing, “however, I wouldn’t sell yourself so short. You also graduated top of your class, and excelled in the art of transmutation multiple times. One of your letters of recommendation even noted how you made many spells easier to cast, somatically speaking.”

“What can I say, I’ll find any short cut I can.”

Davenport makes another note on his paper. “Now, I do need to ask about your record of petty theft.”

“Oh, natch.”

Lup Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in evocation and applied magic regarding planar research.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

“Lup Taaco, it is nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain.” The woman in front of him smiles. The resemblance to her brother couldn’t be more clear, and though her demeanor is quite similar, she at least doesn’t have her feet on his desk.

Not that his desk is anything fancy, but the point stands. “I’m not technically the captain yet, you know.”

“Potato, potato.”

Davenport is fairly certain that’s not how that phrase is used. “You did research into the planes at Tredore, correct?”

“Quite a bit, yeah. I’m sure my brother told you?”

The slight tilt of her head and lit of her voice tells Davenport this is some sort of test, which is confusing and a bit disconcerting, considering he is the one conducting the interview. He checks a quick box on his papers. “He talked you up a bit, yes. But this is your own interview, and I wanted to discuss your own knowledge with you, personally.”

She smiles, a touch more warmth to it than her previous attitude. “Oh, of course. Did quite a bit of studying at Tredore. First real school we attended. Kinda boring at times, you know?”

“If you’re accepted into this program, it’s going to be four intense months of studying and teaching you the more complex workings of the ship. Plus the two months of actually being on the ship.”

“That’s the fun stuff. Not a third semester in a row of another language I already figured out most of years ago.”

“How many languages do you speak, Ms. Taaco?”

“Including common, five languages.”

“Impressive.” Davenport himself only speaks three. “Now, I would like to ask you about your criminal record, if you don’t mind?”

Her smile grew sharp as she laughs.

Honestly, he isn’t surprised. Her explanation is the same as her brothers. Grew up on the road, needed food and other items on occasion. Didn’t always run fast enough. Davenport can’t fault them, and certainly won’t hold it against them.

He glances down at her paperwork, about to ask another question about her education, when she speaks up. “I’ve got a question for you, Captain.”

“Oh?”

“The ship- we’re really going with the name ‘The Starblaster’?”

Davenport sighs. He knew this question was coming, but he was expecting it to come during a press conference from a reporter, not a potential shipmate. “Yes. To be fair, it was a communal name we put to a vote from everyone who worked on building the engine.”

Ms. Taaco smiles. “Dope.”

Barry J. Bluejeans. 37 years old. Human. Wizard; specialization in applied magic regarding bonds and planar research.

Previous experience: Current assistant professor at Duffman University of the Arcane, part-time employee at the Institute of Planer Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Previous altercations regarding necromancy; no crimes against the nature of life and death ever committed.

Mr. Bluejeans is an interesting man. By the look of him, you’d expect to see him fumbling his way through a PTA meeting for his two kids. Instead, Davenport is staring down the word ‘necromancy’ on his paperwork on an application regarding literal planar travel on a ship called 'the Starblaster.'

So far, the interview has been going well. He’d listened to the man explain his research into the arcane, and he’d understood planar travel as well as any of the current scientists and engineers at the Institute. He was called in often for conferences and meetings about the bond engine. He’d seen the man walking around on occasion. They’d never been in a meeting together before, but he’d seemed nice.

But he also had a history of necromancy.

Now, Davenport doesn’t like to judge people. However, being in an enclosed space with someone who needed to specify he had never technically committed “crimes against the nature of humanity” isn’t the most comforting.

But, he was a smart man. Easy to get along with, too. So far. Necromancy notwithstanding.

Best to get it over with, “so, Mr. Bluejeans. I do need to ask about your criminal record-”

“Oh! Yeah, I never killed anyone. Or un- killed anyone. Uh, resurrected, I mean. Just did lots of studying into the application of necromancy and necromantic spells. Got in trouble because I toed the line of ‘research’ and ‘bringing my cat back to life,’ but got a stern talking to. Didn’t try it again, and don’t plan on needing to deal with those types of authorities again.”

Okay, normal enough answer, far as the situation applies-

“My current research into it has stayed purely theoretical, and it won’t interfere with the mission at all.”

So the man is still into necromancy.

Davenport glances down at the man’s file, thick with it’s attached papers Bluejeans has done on planar research. He’s not even stuck up about his level of education, and that’s extremely rare for the field.

Holding back a sigh, Davenport asks, “Can you explain the paper you wrote on the outer planes interactions with the inner planes for me?”

It was a really good paper.

But the man is still into necromancy.

Lucretia. 20. Human. Chronicler; Specialization in journalism.

Previous experience: Due to multiple NDA, she is unable to give us the exact number and titles of books she has written, but she sent letters of recommendation from Duke Rensburg, Lady Norabelle, and Warren of the Seatree Clan.

Criminal Record: Acquisition and attempted use of a false ID.

“So, Ms. Lucretia, I understand you cannot provide us with most examples of your works, but from what you have provided, you seem to be very, very good.”

“I like to think so, yes.” The young woman in front of him seems polite. She’s quiet; he saw her waiting outside with a few others before her interview, and while most of them were engaged in some awkward small talk, she sat away from them. Likely partially due to her age- she is much younger than the people outside- but she also simply seems quiet.

Which wouldn’t be the worst quality in someone you would be sharing a small, enclosed space with for an extended period of time. But, if she couldn’t bond with the others sufficiently, the bond engine won’t work.

(Hell, the bond engine was already finicky, they figured out the tech only a month ago, and they only have four months to bond an entire crew to pilot it and-)

“Can you explain to me why you acquired a fake ID and tried to use it at a, uh,” Davenport glances down at the records in front of him, holding back a chuckle, “at the forbidden section of the Library of Runar?”

Lucretia looks uncomfortable for a second, and he’s sure if the lighting in the room were better he would be able to see her flush with embarrassment. She gives him a hesitant smile, “I can’t get into the explicit details, but I was working on a book for an older client whose memory was becoming patchy, and I wanted to confirm some details before I put their name to it. They wouldn’t allow me into the section without the proper documents, but my client refused to agree that I should double check his work, even though I was almost certain he was wrong, so I simply… found a way to get past their guard. I wasn’t going to steal anything and I was going to use the proper equipment to read through the documents.”

Davenport smiles, “pursuit of knowledge and truth is important to you, then?”

“I don’t think spreading lies, especially in that context, is very honorable, no.” Her hands are folded in her lap now, and she seems a bit more relaxed.

Considering the others he is planning on accepting, he may be wrong about her getting along with them. Anyone willing to break the law just to prove an old man wrong would at least get along with him. Davenport refuses to have any pushovers aboard his ship.

Magnus Burnsides. 19. Fighter; Specialization in protection fighting and mechanical engineering.

Previous experience: Current bouncer at Apex Club. Currently enrolled in Gallier’s Fighter Academy and College.

Criminal Record: One count of assault and battery, appealed for defense of another person present. One count of indecent exposure and public intoxication.

Davenport will be the first to admit it can be tricky to follow human aging patterns, but he knows he’s not mistaken in thinking the man in front of him is barely out of “child” territory. Nineteen is a very, very small amount of time to be alive. Also, a very, very small amount of time to learn important things, like how to run what is basically a ship right out of a science fiction novel- complete with breakthrough technology.

Despite this, it’s hard to not find the young man in front of him to be endearing, and mostly knowledgeable in the things they need him to be.

“Magnus. You’re very young, one of the youngest applicants we have. What makes you think you’re qualified as the head of security of the ship?”

The young man in front of him- Gods, he really is young- grins and lifts his arms to flex, a show of pride and ego almost unbefitting of an interview setting, “Have you seen my muscles? I’m very strong, and a very good fighter.”

Many of today’s interviews have been quite different than he was expecting.

“I was referring more to job experience.”

“Oh!” Magnus shifts in his seat, fingers drumming against the table as he thinks. “I worked as a bouncer for a club while I was in college and did, if I must toot my own horn, a very good job. You should have a letter of recommendation from the owner-” He leans forwards, reaching a hand out as if to look through his own files to show him the letter.

“Yes, I did read through it. She was very thorough in stating how eager you were to help.” Davenport glances down at the papers in front of him, holding back a sigh. It truly was a glowing review of this young man. While his grades from the aforementioned college weren’t the highest, especially in classes one might consider important for an institute of planar research, the two letter of recommendations he submitted from teachers of his explained how Burnsides was very persistent when he wanted to learn something he didn’t know. He also had taken quite a few classes regarding vehicles- not enough to claim the young man was an expert but enough to provide a solid basis to show him how things worked and could be repaired on the ship.

The kid’s attitude was something of a breath of fresh air in this place. However, there was one glaring concern.

“I was also a bit concerned about the criminal record we have on file for you. Assault and battery as well as the indecent exposure and public-”

“In my defense for the second one, I was drunk with some friends and maybe thought it’d be funny to streak in the lake. Who hasn’t been to a party that gets a little out of hand.” He holds his hands out as if to say “am I right?”

Off the record, Davenport is inclined to agree that he was right. On the record, he is choosing to ignore it. “And the assault and battery? The file says it was in defense of a young person.”

Burnsides grins, “that’s how I got hired as the bouncer!”

He waits a moment, expecting Magnus to continue. When it seems the young man is assuming that is enough explanation, he prompts, “by beating up a man outside the club?”

“Yeah! He was harassing someone outside, and I was walking home and passed by. I told him to step off, and he didn’t. So I decked him, and he was out right away.”

It lined up with the records he had, and honestly, seeing someone so ready to step up to the defense of a stranger was a good quality. Better than some of the older applicants who were much more… formal in their training. He wonders briefly how Burnsides would react to an altercation against someone with magic.

Glancing down at his records, he guesses he would run headfirst without thinking.

Stifling a small grin, Davenport continues, “Now, tell me. Assume we’re up in space, and something goes wrong with the bond engine. What would your course of action be, Mr. Burnsides?”

Merle Hitower Highchurch. 214. Cleric; Specialization in botany, religion, and medical treatment.

Previous experience: Current botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration. Professor of botany at Narvick’s University for four years.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of loitering.

The door is pushed all the way open before Davenport can even call out the next person.

A short dwarf slides into the room with a wide grin, “hey Dav!” A mug of tea is pressed into his hands.

“Hello, Merle. You do know this needs to be at least a little formal, yes?”

“Formal schmormal. Ask me your silly questions already, bud.” Merle Highchurch, resident botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration, plops right down in the seat he’d taken to commandeering once a week, for the past three weeks.

Davenport had seen him around before, but a botanist in an institute designed for exploring other planes that had little capabilities to actually go to those places yet was rarely busy, and even more rarely called upon. He still barely knew the guy, but after the day they’d gotten stuck in the elevator for ten minutes when it broke down, the dwarf had come to his office for tea each Wednesday.

It was a bit strange, but the tea was good.

“Tell me about your work experience.”

Merle laughs heartily, “they barely have me do anything around here, ‘cept tend to the couple of plants they’ve grabbed from the ground plane.”

“It’s the Elemental Plane of Earth, and don’t sell yourself short, Merle. This is basically a job interview, you know.”

Merle slurps loudly at his own mug, “aren’t you planning on nepotism hiring me, because we’re buds?”

“That isn’t even what that word means, Merle.”

“Isn’t it?”

Davenport stares into the tea, “is this made from the Earth plant?”

“Maybe?”

Davenport. 276. Captain and navigator; Specialization in mechanical engineering and arcane components combined with contemporary technology.

Previous Experience: Crewmate on the Lady Blue for twenty years. Graduated from Grensville University. Current staff at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Unlawful resistance of orders from captain, raising of commotion on board ship while employed.

Davenport handed the six files over to Selune, “These are them.”

The halfling woman flips through them, eyebrows raising higher with each one she sees. “You’re sure you grabbed the right ones? A few of these I understand, but you do know we had the Issaiah Broler apply.”

He folds his hand in front of him, nodding. “I also know that during the interview he made me want to pour my tea on his lap. There’s no chance of getting the bond engine going with him. These are the six I picked. They’re all qualified- and the ones that are less educated in the specifics in the field I’m sure will pick up on the important information quickly. The Taaco twins already will give the bond engine a huge boost. Ms. Lucretia will ensure we have everything chronicled, something I’m sure you can appreciate, Selune. Mr. Bluejeans previous work shows he will thrive given the opportunities awaiting us. Mr. Highchurch is an educated man, and I trust him to keep the crew healthy and provide ample information on anything botany related we encounter, and I’m certain Mr. Burnsides will provide ample help in any task we show him how to do.” He sighs, glancing out the window of her office. There were a few people lingering outside in the courtyard of the Institute. “We have been given a tremendous opportunity to explore beyond what we can imagine, Selune. The last thing I want is to be bogged down by people stuck in their ways, who have been working in this field long enough to have their preconceived notions about what to expect and who will react badly when they’re proven wrong. I trust my own judgement in picking a crew, and I hope you trust my abilities to get these people ready to set sail in four months.”

What he doesn’t say is that he doesn’t want a bunch of stuffy jackasses on his ship. He’s not even sure picking all the over-qualified people would pass through the higher-ups' inspection of the crew. The people he picked were qualified enough to get a quick sign-off, but not too much. Anyone “overqualified” would probably get rejected. The ship had been built in basically six months. It’d get them off the ground, sure. It wasn’t going to explode on them once they got up there, but it wasn’t safe. There was a reason Davenport was the captain at all.

The six candidates in those files didn’t have a name for themselves as “important” to any stuffy scientific group or noble family. These people he picked were just that- people. A group of people who he believed deserved this opportunity. If anyone was getting the chance to make a name for themselves- to have the chance to redefine everything they know about the planar systems, he wanted to make sure they deserved the chance. A dangerous chance, sure. But what was science if not a little risky.

She sighs, opening the file on top. Her hand reaches for her pen, “Davenport, I got the final say on the name of the ship, I suppose the least I can do is give you final say on the crew.” She begins to write ‘approved’ at the top of the file, flipping through each one before giving him a pointed look. “But when I get angry calls about how you approved a bunch of nobodies and two people not even old enough to drink, I’m transferring them straight to your crystal.”

“And I will not be answering a single one.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Captain.”

[lalis-fandom-stuff]

Original twins headcanons

I'm finally making this after months. Here's some random facts from my fic. Let's go.

Ok mostly they're opposites in everything (very predictable, I know). Rafal dresses like a royal, Rhian has an infinite amount of copies of the same outfit like a cartoon character. Rafal is charming and good at speeches and all that jazz, Rhian doesn't want to be percieved. Rafal is a Light Yagami kinnie, Rhian has 0 self esteem. Rafal is an absolute monster, Rhian is a literal angel. You get the drill. One thing that they do have in common is that they're both introverts.

They're left handed. It's not relevant, I just accidentally made them left handed in a drawing and now I decided it's canon.

Random Rhian facts: he's your typical Hufflepuff. He has a pretty smile. He hates responsabilities and talking to stranger. He likes walking in the woods. He deserved better. I miss him a lot (and I make him suffer in every chapter even tho he's my favourite character).

Rhian is the only valid straight person in sge sorry I don't make the rules 😔✋🏻. I think I accidentally made Rafal aromantic. I sincerely apologize to all my aro followers for that.

According to Personality Databes, Rafal's MBTI type is INTJ. I decided that Rhian is INFP because I kin him.

As I said in a previous post, Rhian is a cottagecore king and Rafal is too much into dark royalcore. Uhm. Interesting contrast.

Rhian's talent is ice magic (because their dad is related to the Snow Queen) and Rafal's is controlling shadows (Shadow!Rafal canon ✨).

They actually became school masters a short time after their third year (does that count as a fourth year quest?!). The reasons why they put two litteral 18 year olds on charge of protecting the most important entity in the woods? 1. They're two twins from different schools, therefore a perfect symbol of balance between Good and Evil (wich was very needed in that time period). 2. They're some of the best students from that year. 3. The previous School Master died suddenly (... long story) and they were really desperate to find a new one. 4. Their dad is famous and no one wants to upset him. 5. "They're siblings!! They should get along!!! Right?!" (And then they didn't).

Rhian didn't even want to be a School Master, one day Rafal basically went "Hey I know you want to live in a cottage with your gf and shit but I wanna become the School Master very badly and they probably won't let me without you" and Rhian was like "😀?!?!? Ok I guess?!?!!!!" (Spoiler: it was a terrible idea).

Pretty irrelevant but young Rafal wears a shitton of rings because I think they're cool. Later on he gets into gloves (because they give creepy vibes and also for sad edgy reasons).

Their mother (Ingrid, name stolen from @tedros-is-helpless ) is a former Ever and their father (mr Isa Mistral, that fucking bastard) is a Never. Wich creates a lot of drama, even tho Isa doesn't live with them.

Rafal is good at seeing people's true natures (=mostly if they're Evers or Nevers) and Rhian is good at understanding other people's emotions. Except that they use these qualities in the worst way possible. So yeah my first hot take from today are "Rafal has some sort of emotional intelligence but he only uses it for evil".

Rhian is generally better at magic and Rafal is furios about it, even tho he doesn't show it.

Rafal really gets into weapons (especially very fancy daggers that can conveniently be hidden in your sleeve to kill your brother).

No but they were actually very close when they where little, but they broke apart a little bit when they started school. Rhian kinda hoped that becoming the school masters would solve everything, but as you might expect it got really shitty real quick (and it was Rafal's fault, as always. He's gross).

My secon hot take is "the only person Rafal ever loved was Rhian and deep down he regrettes killing him". And he knew that Rhian cared about him but he simply decided to ignore it and pursue power instead. (Also his idea of "caring" is "I want him by my side and I don't want him dead" and not "I want him to be happy").

Rafal felt like he could only be truly himself with Rhian, wich either means "snarky edgy teen" or "manipulative and controlling monster that only cares about himself" depending on the context. Basically he's only nice to important people and he's passive aggressive.

Rhian is only twenty-something when he dies and that breaks me (even tho I wrote it). Also he always tried to justify Rafal's actions because he didn't want to lose him and, even tho he eventually had to put the School's safety first, he loved him until the very end. Maybe it doesn't hit you as hard described like this, but it definetly hit me hard a worring amount of times a day.

So yeah. Here's what, as the kids say, lived into my mind rent free for the last year. I wrote most of this at 1 am and it shows. Please like it.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Tuesday 18 September 1838

5 55

12

fine but dullish morning at 7 am at which hour F61° clearer at 5 than at 5am said Josephine – breakfast at 7 10 till then ¼ hour reading the torn remains of a volume lent me (received by Charles yesterday morning) by the ex-maire d’Estêré [Esterre], the berger who took care of my horse on Sunday – volume begins at p. 309 – the 4 pp. wanting after p. 316 and what more I know not – the last p. I have is p. 432, but I see it is a fragment of Ramonds’ work on the Pyrénées – vide p. 223 Mt. Buet en Swisse only 60+ higher than the pic du midi de Bigorre – breakfast and reading Ramond  till 8 25 – off at 8 35 Charles following us on the little mule we had before and Pierre walking alone before till we soon came up with Henri Charles’ frère and [Markett] Pierres’ beau frère to help to get A- up to the top of the pic on the little mule – sowing rye (le bled) a little way from Barèges – sowing it on barley stubble (Estōōrăh) and then ploughing in the seed with a little plough drawn by 2 beaufs – champs perpetual about Luz parcequ’il n’y a pas d’eau – but about Barèges where they have water they change from Champs to près and from près to champs every 5 or 6 or 7 years – on turning the près into champs 1st barley sown in April or in May dans les hauteurs – 2nd bled (seiglle [seigle], rye) sown in September as here and in high places and in October in the plain – 3rd Sarracène [Sarracénie] or barley, at ainsi de Suite – they mow and gather the iris-stalks for winter fodder for the sheep – at 10 turn (left) up the montagne de Tou to the 2 cabanes de Tou – at the lac d’Oncet at 11 10 and frightened by a few drops of rain – alighted – A- put on her cloak and I my cape – then remounted – doubted whether to go to the cabane – it cleared a little – the guides ate their breakfast and I determined to to have our horses with the shepherd boy that we had called to us, and to the brêche de cinq Ours – we had passed a gentleman on horseback with one guide just before our reaching the lake – he said he had returned because he could see nothing (the guide said he had not gone to the top on account of the brouillard) and Markett advised us to retrograder – a little brouillard in the brêche de cinq ours and over the summit of Neouvielle (i.e. the old snow neou nivis, snow and vielle, veuts, old) – we had just before had a good view of the Neouvielle from here (plateau d’Oncet) close to the lake, but above it – not at the flat stone at its waters’ edge where the duchess de Berri breakfasted and which Chaussenque [Chausenque] mentions as the common breakfast (table) the plateau d’Oncet and de Tou (Too as pronounced) and in fact the whole montagne de Tou covered (tapissés) with trifolium alpestre +

+ no! reglisse

- it must be one sheet of reddish pink in spring – here and there among the rocks on the pente between the 2 plateaux little low bushes of Mezereon as yesterday but saw no red berries – diminutive begloss and purple, or lightish blue pansies, little campanulae, yellow potentilla and other subalpine? plants, still in flower on the pente among the grass – surrounded rocks and boulders – off again in 25 minutes at .. 11 35 the men having breakfasted A- on the mule with my saddle and I on foot – at the brêche de cinq ours at 11 50 the rain had come on again five or six minutes before – and the brêche was full of brouillard – we took shelter under a rock ¼ hour till it was fair, and en route again at 12 5 – as we passed the gorge d’Esponne and the great cleft in the rock, above it we passed the brouillard quite close at our feet – it seemed abutting against the rock as if impeded and not able to rise above it – at 12 40 the rain came on again almost immediately succeeded by hail which accompanied us to the top with wind from the west but not strong enough to make my umbrella unmanageable till 5 or 6 minutes from the tour, hutte, or colonne as Charles calls it - .. at the top at 1 13 – A- rode round the colonne but did not alight – too cold and haily and windy – brouillard all round – the men ate a morsel – I crept into the hutte, and tore down and brought away a newspaper-shred, dated 27 August, a quotation from a speech made by Lord John Russell on the 18th March 1824, contrasting our ancient greatness with [one] then littleness – the word contrasts more lamentably true now than ever – A- starved – began .. the descent at 1 18 – in about ¼ hour it began to clear a little and at 1 ¾ was fair and fine (a little sun)au dessus la laquette (what Chaussenque [Chausenque] calls the plan d’Aube) where we stood ¼ hour looking about us – seeing a little of Neouvielle, and seeing very well and instructively the pics of Caubère, Ereslitz and Ayré and bits of the St. Sauveur mountains -  .. off again at 2 (Charles afraid of the storm again – said now was coming to us from the valle d’Obiste) and back at the brêche des 5 ours at 2 16 and had got the horses and paid the boy (5 minutes job) and .. was off from the cabane d’Oncet at 2 40 – at the Pas des ours at 3 5 – stopt on the Tourmalet road at 3 ¼ - changed the saddles – A- mounted her horse, and I mine and Charles the little mule, which had carried A- every inch of the way from the lac d’Oncet up to, and round the colonne on the summit of the pic, and all down again to here! – one gentleman sometime ago did the same thing for a wager, but no other person except himself or A- has done the like – Charles would have this ‘mis sur les journaux pour encourager les étrangers’!  En route again in ten minutes at 3 25 – gave Charles 16/. (sixteen francs) 1/. paid to the shepherd boy for taking care of the horses 5/. each for Henri and Markett and 5/. between them extra to drink A-‘s health on being the 1st lady who had ridden all the way up and down from the pic – In returning talked over the Neouvielle with Charles and Markett – the latter has mounted the pic culminant – not difficult – but advises going by the valle de Lienz (not Bōl-lŏ) to the lac de Portett [Pourtet] – thinks that after so hot a summer we may have very little glacier to pass – no great difficulty – shall be at the top in 5 or 6 hours but must be off by 6 am – fixed to go to the pic d’Ayre [Ayré] tomorrow at 10 am A- can ride all but a petit ¼ d’heure – shall be at the top in 3 hours – good view of Vignemale and shall see the route we shall have to take to the Neouvielle on Thursday if fine enough – had had a few light drops of rain just before and on stopping at 3 ¼ on the Tourmalet road, but they blew off and the sun came out a little and the brouillard rose higher up over our heads and left all the valley clear – I had put my cloak on soon after leaving the cabane d’Oncet on account of the brouillard being so near us that I felt it damp - .. home at 4 40 – changed my dress –read Ramond (vide line 2 of the last p.) – dinner at 6 ¼ to 7 25 – sat with A- till 8 25 – had Josephine – wrote all the above of today till 10 25

SH:7/ML/E/22/0022

fine afternoon and evening from about 3 20 to 8 when heavy rain for about an hour – we had the mauvais temps from 11 10 am vide line 18 p. 34 and the rest of the day

From Barèges to the lac d’Oncet from 8 35 to 11 10 = 2 hours 35 minutes

.. Lac d’O- to brêche de 5 ours   11 35 to 11 50 = 0.15                                   Rest = 0 hours. 25 minutes

.. Brêche to the summit   12 5 to 1 13                    = 1.8                                              0.15

                                                                                        3.58                         at the top = 0.5

                                                                                                                                                0.45

Descent

From the top to near the laquette                       1.18 to 1 ¾ =    0.27

.. near the laquette to the brêche                          2 to 2 16 = 0.16                 rest= 0.15

.. the brêche to the cabane d’Oncet                     2 16 to 2 35 = 0.19

.. from the cabane d’O- to the Pas de Ours        2 40 to 3 5 = 0.25                        = 0.5

.. from the Pas des O- to the Tourmalet road     3 5 to 3 ¼ = 0.10

.. Tourmalet road to home                                      3 25 to 4 40 =1. 15                 = 0.10

                                                                                                            2.52                    0.30

going 3 58

returning 2 52

rest 1.15

8.5 = the time of absence from 8 35 to 4 40 .:. allowing 55 minutes more or one hour for remaining on the top we can do the pic du midi in 9 hours

had just written the above at 10 55 pm – then making a few notes of words en patois etc. till 11 ¼ pm – then till 11 ½ skimming over todays’ paper

[danganronpa-and-chill-mods]

Ouma x reader imagines (Angst maybe)

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

I was gone for so long . . . School is ending for me, and I was really bussy. I posted a one-shot that ended being trash and I wanted to try and write for other characters. Please request, I really would appreciate that.

The reader is kind of insecure about how she/he/they looks.

If you are insecure, please I want you to know that you are loved

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

➵You and Ouma were friends since day 1, obviusly you had some fights, most of them were usually just friendly (With friendly I mean they weren't serious at all)

➵But... This time was different. This fight was... A joke for him at the start,but not for you. Even if he was lying he really hurt you. His words touched your heart and not in a good way

×Flashback×

"HEY [Y/N]! You should stop trying to impress (Character name)... They don't want to be with someone soooooo ugly!"

". . . Damn, I do not like (She/He). Stop being so anoying, I am not in the mood"

"Aw come on, you know you do, stop trying they would not like being with you! They rather someone more pretty"

"OUMA STO- Nevermind, you are a lost cause. This friendship was a mistake"

×End×

➵ Those words were in Kokichi's head for a lot of time... Did he really hurt you that much? They are just jokes and you taked them at the wrong way. He was trying to sleep but... It was hard. Now that he thinks about it... It was not the first time he talked shit about how you look...

➵Every time he tried to rest, he thinked about how he just... Ruined everything. Well, maybe that explain why everyone says that words may hurt.

➵But... Did they hurt you that bad? He loved you and he never tried to hurt you. He was going to say, at that moment when you wantes to go away "It's a lie!"

➵ Somehow... He knew that it would make everything worst. He noticed that you usually tried to cover your body, even if it was summer, you never were wearing a swimsuit. He was a liar, and when you say "I am fine, I just don't want to swim today" he knew you were lying.

➵ He felt in love with your form of being, not with your body... That was the only thing he wanted to say... Or scream, so you could understand

➵But it was too late... You were angry, and since that day you avoided him. His tears were always fake, but this time? This time he really felt bad. That night, at that hour, Kokichi Ouma, the ultimate supreme leader, was sobbing at 3:30 am. He felt like he failed to you

➵ He wanted to fix it. He thinked that he has to

➵ Even if it was late,and maybe he was asleep, somehow he managed to talk with Gonta. Bad idea, he gave him a "speech" about how being a gentleman.

➵ This time, Ouma was going to follow his advice. But... That was just the start if everything. After talking to Gonta, he texted Saihara, not anything weird, he just asked him to investigate about why you were insecure.

➵Shuichi was not okay about it... He told him that if he wanted to fix things, he had to do it himself. But Kokichi tried and tried to at least, get some help. The answer was still no.

➵But he was right. Even if Ouma wanted to lie to himself... It wouldn't change the fact that he had to do something. Yes, it was hard and he was afraid but he had to. After all... He loved you

➵Sadly... It was very late (5:09 am). He would think about that in the morning

➵He woke up late, with the sound of a call. But when he tried to answer, they cut the call. Damn, it could be you but he did not saw the name.

➵It was sunday, so he could think about it all the day. Maybe he could do that thing about writing a letter but hidding his identity... He did not wanted to start since 0! But if he had to... He was going to try.

➵He was all the day trying to write a letter that you may like. After lots of failed atempts, he did it. Morning, before you could go to school he put the letter at your locker

➵You arrived at school like every day. Ouma was kind of following you but you ignored it. Even if you wanted to talk to him, somehow you didn't. You were okay, but... Maybe he was angry with you

➵(Y/N) started reading the letter

Letter:

Before you think about who I am,I want to say something... I see you every day, you are wonderful. Not only beacause you are pretty, thing that is true, beacause I easily get lost in your eyes. It is beacause. You care about those ones you love. You may be a little bit mean with your words but that doesn't mean that you have reasons for it. Please, when the class ends go to your favourite place, I know which one is! Don't worry, I am never going to stalk you.

➵ All the day you were thinking about it. You really liked that feeling, you knew it could be the start of something you would like.

➵ Ouma was there, but... You were kind of late... Maybd he just... Shouldn't try anything. Something inside him told him that you knew it was him, and that you were angry at a point that you never wanted to be with him.

➵ He started sobbing at silence, trying ti hide himself, after all, even if he thinked that you were too angry for thinking clearly that day, maybe you really wanted to say it

➵Anyways, even if his vision was blurry, he saw you aproaching. You came! He was so happy to knew it... But he had to do the hard work now

➵ You were searching someone and... You found him... SHIIIIIIIIIT.

➵<Okay Ouma, don't lie to her/him/they. Go and talk> He wiped away the tears, and walked were you were. He had a teddy bear in his arms, it was a gift, for you.

Ending 1: Don't worry. It is Okay

"Ouma... Did you wrote the letter?" You asked, kind of worried

"Well yes! You are soooo smart" He was talking like nothing happened, with his usually playful voice

"You... Like me? But if you were saying I was-"

"I was lying... Like always. No lies since this point. I like you since ever, and when you were angry with me, I felt like... I didn't deserve you... I... Am... SO SORRY!" He couldn't try to hold it anymore. He just hugged you and... You gave him a kiss at his head (If you are shorter you gave him a kiss at his forehead)

Ending 2: It is okay but...

"Ouma... Did you wrote the letter?" You asked, kind of worried

"Well yes! You are soooo smart" He was talking like nothing happened, with his usually playful voice

"Ouma I- I feel like... We should think about it more... You hitted a soft spot and... I am still sad. It doesn't mean that I don't want to be your friend and maybe your lover but... In a future"

"Oh. . . I know that I hurted you but I am going to try my best for fixing everything"

Ending 3: Not even a little bit

"Look. Before you start talking... I am still angry, you ruined it, and I don't want to know anything about you. I hate you and thanks for making me suffer"

Ouma tried not to cry... But when he arrived his home... He cried, and then he knew, that he shouldn't trust anymore...

[baronessblixen]

prompt: mulder and scully are on a roadtrip with 6 year old emily in the back

Thank you so much for this prompt! I don’t know if this was for the three sentences so I just wrote. It’s more than three sentences but still a short ficlet.

Tagging @today-in-fic

Sharing a car with Scully and Emily reduces Mulder’s radio privileges to 0. After listening to Emily’s current favorite storybook cassettes – twice – Scully has put on a family-friendly radio station. It’s been two hours and Mulder finds himself nodding along to the saccharine pop songs. Who knew music like that existed? He’s still learning new things every day, thanks to the little redhead in the backseat, who is singing along, as off-key as her mother, but with gusto.

“I still can’t believe I’m about to meet the famous Charles Scully,” Mulder muses.

“Uncle Charlie is famous?” Emily asks from the backseat, her head peeking through the seats.

“He isn’t,” Scully says, shooting Mulder a glance. “It’s a figure of speech.”

Emily repeats the expression, memorizing it. She soaks up their words and their mannerisms like a sponge. Just the other day when she came to visit the office, and Mulder and Scully were having half an argument, Emily furrowed her brows and yelled at Mulder “not to be a cryptid”, trying out one of the words she must have picked up from him. 

“Can I have a snack, please?” Emily asks, tapping Scully on the shoulder. Mulder’s own stomach grumbles as he watches Scully peel a banana and hand it to the girl.

“Thank you.”

“Should we stop somewhere to eat?” Mulder asks, still eyeing the bag Scully packed this morning before they left, and wondering whether she bought any candy. 

“Do you want a banana, too, Mulder?” Scully asks him, one eyebrow raised in amusement. His breath hitches when he sees the glint in her eyes.

“Do you have anything less healthy in there?”

“You can have half of mine, Mulder,” Emily says and accidentally presses the soft, slightly moist fruit against his cheek. “We can share.”

“Thank you, Em,” Mulder takes the half-eaten banana from her hands and stuffs it into his mouth. He hears Scully chuckle and then she leans over and wipes at his cheek. His eyes follow her as she slips her finger between her lips, licking it off.

“Scully, don’t,” he says, his voice low, returning his attention back to the road.

“Mommy, what did you do?” Emily asks, her curiosity making her stumble over her words. Sometimes Mulder still forgets that they have a pintsize Scully in the backseat who hears everything. Especially the things she shouldn’t.

“She tried stealing my banana!” Mulder says in mock horror, quickly grinning at Scully.

“You wish,” she mumbles but smiles at him.

“You know we have to start thinking about what to do for someone’s B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y soon.” He checks the rear-view mirror to check if Emily is listening. But she’s busy with her entourage consisting of her old, ragged doll, the fox plushie that Mulder gave her after her adoption was final, and the pink squid plushie they bought at a gas station because Mulder still hasn’t learned to say no to Emily’s sweet face and determined pout (he doubts he ever will).

“I know,” Scully says with a sigh. “What do you think we should do?”

“A small family affair. With your mom’s B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y C-A-K-E. I was more thinking about the P-R-E-S-E-N-T-S though.”

“Didn’t we decide on a B-I-K-E?”

“Mommy,” Emily says, leaning forward, holding a plushie in each hand, “I want a blue bike.”

“What?” Mulder and Scully ask in unison.

“For my birthday,” Emily says, almost sounding bored. “I want a blue bike.”

“Did she just – did you know what we were talking about?” Mulder asks.

“Duh,” Emily exclaims. “You already taught me how to spell years ago! A blue bike, please,” she finishes and goes back to playing, unfazed by the situation.

“Scully, she’s too smart for us already.”