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rebrandedstoryline · 4 months

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Rebranded - Ch 18.3 - Minor Confrontations

Math. YUCK. But at least its useful.

After divulging the unpleasant information about the murderous AI to the animatronics, Logan stuck around for a few more hours. Those hours were full of nothing but tension. At least where Sun and Moon were concerned.

They had a lot to be worried about.

Logan had blindly accused Sun of killing people. It was an indirect accusation, yes, but it was still an accusation. One which rightly made the Solar animatronic feel uneasy. That in turn made Moon tense, because he was protective of his twin.

They were scared. Scared of somehow being blamed for the recent string of murders. Scared of their real backgrounds being discovered.

Thankfully, after having been thoroughly chewed out over his earlier accusations, Logan overlooked their obvious unease. It was passed off as a sort of natural paranoia pertaining to the risk of a potential threat.

When Ayala and Logan concluded with their business matters, the visit was called to a close. The man politely took his leave. In doing so, he left the trio alone to sort out whatever concerns they might have. Specifically, concerns pertaining to whether or not they actually were suspected of being responsible for the recent murders.

“Erm... A-Ayala?” Sun anxiously called out to the woman by name.

The woman in question simply continued to go about her business. With Logan gone, she had started to make herself a cup of tea. She didn’t even bother to stop and look in Sun’s direction to let him know that she had heard him.

“I don’t think you or Moon have gone out and killed people, Sunny.” Ayala simply replied, having already guessed what it was that was on Sun’s mind. As she spoke, she placed a cup of water into the microwave to heat it up. “It's physically impossible.” She added, still not stopping to look at the animatronics.

Having been so bluntly told that they were not suspects of murder, both Sun and Moon were both able to relax to some degree. Though one definitely relaxed more than the other.

“O-oh! That’s a uh... That’s a relief~” Sun responded. His voice left him as something that sounded like a relieved sigh.

There followed a few seconds of near silence as the woman continued to make herself some tea. The microwaved beeped and she pulled the mug of water out from inside of it. After that, in went the teabag and some sugar.

“However!... Now that it's been brought to your attention, I guess I do have some concerns about this... Situation.” Ayala stated. She sounded somewhat hesitant as she spoke. Somewhat concerned. As though she was trying to pick her words carefully so as to keep from upsetting the animatronics.

Sun and Moon each offered a confused noise in response. They nervously watched as the woman made her way over to the island to sit down. She took a quick sip of her tea to test its temperature. Too hot to drink.

“You two are runaway animatronics with a bit of a history. Yet for some reason, Fazbear still hasn’t put out any alerts on you two having escaped… And I’ve checked. Many times.” Ayala stated, getting started on telling the bots what it was that had made her uneasy. She took another quick sip of her tea to test the temperature again. Still too hot to drink. “They’re making plans to open a new location. It's as if they don’t care that they have two of their animatronics on the loose... I can’t help but think that maybe you two aren’t the only animatronics that they’ve had escape. And that they’re keeping quiet to save face, because whatever is out there killing people has come from them.” She explained. As she did, she began to slowly stir her tea in order to speed up the cooling process. After a few seconds, she took another quick sip to test the temperature. Finally, it was cold enough to drink. “Are there any other animatronics that might’ve escaped? Any that you’d know of?” She inquired. Her tone went a bit hesitant towards the end of her question.

The animatronics shared an uneasy glance with one another. Each seemingly attempted to scour their databases in search of any potential escapees.

While it was not impossible to find a list of potentially violent animatronics, it was impossible for them to name any of them as a potential suspect. That being because, to their knowledge, all of the other animatronics had been found and decommissioned. As in, any potential suspects were basically dead, or at least in a state of suspended animation.

“No.” Moon replied, a sort of bitter expression washing over his face as he spoke.

Thinking about what had become of the other animatronics was not pleasant. In a way, he and Sun suffered from some level of survivor's guilt over it.

While they had never quite been friends, there had always been something of an understanding between the lot of them. The incidents brought on by the virus and their resulting suffering had brought about a sense of kinship. In a way, it was if the daycare attendants had left their only family to die.

“Anyone with a background has already been decommissioned.” He added, the bitterness having crept into his voice as he spoke.

“Are you sure?” Ayala asked in response. It would take some convincing to get her to believe that the rogue animatronic in question wasn’t another escaped Fazbear AI.

“Yes.” Moon replied quietly. “None of the others would have been able to escape the Pizza Plex... Not without being found. Sun and I were fortunate. We’re more nimble, and we’re equipped with special sensors that let us detect humans. If any of the others had managed to get out, they would have been found right away.” He explained, presenting his reasoning to Ayala.

The odds of these recent murders being committed by another Fazbear animatronic were almost laughably low. The only caveat being the possibility of it being a discontinued animatronic that had somehow gotten loose.

While those odds were also low due to the level of disrepair that the discontinued animatronics would have fallen into, they were definitely higher than the other option.

But Moon opted to keep that particular theory to himself. He wouldn’t even be able to name any potential animatronics in that case. So it was better to just not bring it up.

The woman offered a sigh in response to this, before taking a long drink of her tea.

“This all still stinks of Fazbear.” She stated. She fully believed that it was an escaped Fazbear animatronic out there slaughtering people.

Moon responded by making a rather peculiar sound. A sound that sounded like the mix between a snort and a grunt, but grumpy.

“What makes you so sure it's not us?” Moon inquired. His voice sounded a mix of bitterness and sarcasm.

The woman offered a dry laugh in response to this. One that almost seemed to mock the question itself.

“How good are you at math?” Came Ayala’s sarcastic retort. She turned to look at the nighttime attendant, who responded in turn by giving her a confused look.

“... Better than you.” Moon bluntly but hesitantly stated. He and Sun were effectively walking calculators. It was just one perk of being an AI.

“Alright. Now, tell me how fast you walk or run, on average.” Ayala requested. She then took another sip of her tea. Tea that had now managed to cool to a sort of lukewarm temperature, not that she seemed to mind.

“Our walking speed has a range of four to five miles per hour, and our maximum running speed is fifteen miles per hour.” Moon replied.

The movement speeds that he described were actually another sort of safety precautions put into place by Fazbear. He and Sun could not move at a speed fast enough to deal lethal damage to a child, should they happen to have direct impact. Stepping on or otherwise applying their weight to the body of a child was of a differing issue; but that was why they both had sensors. It was so that they could keep track of where kids happened to be.

The woman offered a hum in response to this.

“Alright. Here’s your math problem. We live about ninety-six miles away from town, if you take the road. That number jumps up to God knows how much if you go off-road, because of the terrain. Go ahead and figure out how long it’d take you to get to town and back on foot.” Ayala responded by giving the animatronics a bit of a math problem to solve. A math problem that would establish just how impossible it was for Sun or Moon to have been able to sneak off and kill people.

The animatronics need not think about it for long. Again, they were walking, talking calculators. They could also do mental math much faster than the average person.

With the math done, they definitely understood why Ayala was so adamant that neither of them had been the ones out attacking people. And why Logan was such an idiot to suspect them at all.

“... Around two days if we walked, roughly thirteen hours if we ran.” Moon quietly replied.

The woman offered a soft hum upon hearing this.

“Sounds about right.” Ayala muttered. She then downed the rest of her tea in one long swig. A little sigh escaped her once she finished her drink. “I’m Pretty sure you two can’t break the laws of physics. If we were closer to town then I might have suspected you... One of you, at least.” She stated.

As it were, she had already done the math. Granted, she had done it using different speed measurements, but still. Sun and Moon would have needed to be able to run at almost double their maximum speed in order to make it to town and back before she woke up. And that wasn’t including whatever time they would need to set aside to pull off the actual murders that had been taking place. Not to mention the cleanup that they would need to do to cover up their actions.

Their clothes were worn out as is. They’d never be able to get the blood out if they did something that violent.

Despite having been proven innocent, Moon cast a bitter expression in Ayala’s direction. Only for a moment.

Despite understanding why it was that she might suspect him as the killer, it still hurt to know that she would suspect him at all. Especially after putting so much effort into being less physically aggressive towards her. Which was hard, because he still considered her a threat. He was still under the influence of his security protocols. It wasn’t easy for him to ignore those protocols.

The woman merely cast him a similarly bitter look in response. She didn’t really understand what his problem was with her, because he wouldn’t talk about it. So from her perspective, he was just a hostile asshole. But she put up with it because she thought it was a trauma response.

“That aside, I wouldn’t worry about the rogue too much. We’re pretty isolated out here.” She stated as she picked up her cup and brought it to the sink.

As far as she was concerned, there was no point in fretting over the rogue AI. The nearest attack was still a couple days away on foot. All of the attacks had happened in relatively populated cul-de-sacs.

The three of them lived in an isolated building out in the wilderness. Ayala was willing to bet that the rogue animatronic wouldn’t be able to casually stumble upon their home. At least not anytime soon.

Whether or not she would be stupid for making that bet would be a problem to deal with when and if it presented itself.

#rebranded #rebranded au #rebranded storyline #fnaf #fnaf au #fnaf:sb #daycare attendant #moondrop #sundrop #moon #sun #ayala

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smoochkooks · 3 years

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—chapter two: of peonies and broken promises

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 1.4k words

summary: you are twenty-four, hopelessly in love with your best friend and the smell of peonies still makes you nauseous, just like it did eleven years ago.

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Jungkook's apartment is an epitome of him.

Wherever you look, you spot a piece of him. A single, wooden shelf in the living room where he placed all his analog cameras, because he loves photography. The replica of Van Gogh's Starry night hanging just above the navy blue couch, because he loves art. White walls of his bedroom decorated with movie posters; among them the newest addition to the collection: French Parasite poster you remember him buying recently. He traded stupid amount of money for it and you'd scold him for doing so if you didn’t know how much he enjoys cinematography.

Staring at this back as he makes coffee, you almost forget why you came her in first place. It's trivial: the latest software update on your laptop made it work more sluggish for some unknown to you reason. Jungkook has always been good with technology (hence his degree in digital art), helping you fix things on your laptop whenever the issue isn’t too complicated for him to deal with it on his own.

You feel a little embarrassed, asking him for help again (as if he wasn’t installing a new antivirus software for you a few weeks ago) but Jungkook beat you to it, assuring you it was absolutely fine before you could recite a round of apologies upon entering his apartment.

It’s just the way he is – the kindest, most selfless person you have ever met. Helping others seems to be etched into his brain for good.

“Here you go,” he says, placing a cup coffee in front of you. “I still haven’t quite figured out how the coffee machine works so I hope it doesn’t taste like shit.”

You smile, wrapping your fingers around the cup. Jungkook is a tea person, something he most definitely took after his mother, who has a separate cabinet in the kitchen filled with various kinds of tea. That’s why it’s so funny to you that somehow he insisted on buying a ridiculously expensive coffee machine a few months ago when he moved into his new apartment.

You wish you could focus on the delicate scent of his blueberry tea. You wish you could let yourself be overwhelmed by the aroma of your freshly made coffee. Anything.

Instead, all you can process is the intense, nauseous smell of the peonies standing right before you.

They’re definitely new, wrapped up prettily and ready to be gifted to someone special. Jungkook notices your lingering gaze, and clears his throat.

“Soojin's coming later today. They’re her favourite.”

He didn’t need to give any explanation to you. It’s his life, his girlfriend, his plans, her favourite flowers, her perfect boyfriend. You’re just you. Yet for some unknown to you reason, he felt and urge to mention it anyway.

“I didn’t peg you for the gentleman type.” you say to break the awkward silence. It’s anything but true, so Jungkook snorts in response.

“Aish, I always give you a single red rose for your birthday, Valentine’s Day and Women's day as well! And we know each other for eighteen years!” he reasons, somewhat defensive.

You force yourself to grin. “I know, I know. I was just fucking with you,” He huffs and takes a sip of his tea. As soon as he does that, he regrets it, muttering “Shit, it’s hot.” under his breath. “Soojin's lucky to have you.” you add.

Despite coming off as a confident person on daily basis, Jungkook gets insecure too.

You remember vividly the look in his eyes when he told you he didn’t deserve her. It was right at the beginning of their relationship, they were still getting to know each other and Jungkook couldn’t possibly understand why out of all the boys Soojin could date, she had chosen him. A digital art major who liked talking about cinematography and ate ramen at 2am in the morning when he couldn’t sleep.

Back then, you wished he could see himself with your eyes. For you, he was far more attractive than any guy you saw on campus. For you, he was talented, hardworking, passionate. No doubt Soojin fell for him.

But Jungkook was twenty-one back then. He lacked self-assurance he has now. It irritated you that he viewed Soojin as some sort of goddess who took pity on him. Although a lot has changed since, he still could quite literally kiss the ground she walks on.

You watch as a small tingle of blush covers the apples of his cheeks. Pink, just like the peonies standing before you. Pink, just like the flowers you hate so much.

11 years ago

June was beautiful that year. You spent most of your time after school in Jungkook's garden, seated by the wooden table and doing your homework.

His mother besides tea, loved planting flowers. And June was the month of peonies. There was so many of them, invading your senses with their sweet yet nauseous smell.

Jungkook was scribbling something in his notebook. You doubted it was anything Math-related, judging by the quick and harsh strokes of his pen. ‘’Do you know Sana?” he asked out of the blue, startling you.

“That new girl from Japan? What about her?”

“Jimin says she has a crush on me.” he answered, his eyes still glued to the paper. You noticed he was sketching some anime character's angry face.

Your eyes involuntarily widened. “How does Jimin know that?”

“Dunno. He told me he heard some girls talking about it in cafeteria the other day.” Finally, he dropped his pen and looked up. His brows were furrowed and he had a sour look on his face. “I don’t want her to have a crush on me.”

At that, your heart started beating faster. You were just fourteen and yet already so stupidly in love with your best friend. “Why?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

You knew girls were checking out Jungkook here and there. He was a top athlete, had good grades and had grown at least ten centimeters taller over the year. He also had let his mother (and you) convince him to cut his hair shorter lately, getting rid of the emo fringe he was sporting for the past six months. Of course some pretty girl like Sana would have a crush on him.

Somehow, Jungkook had always been oblivious to that, or at least you thought so. This was the first time he decided to talk to you about it.

He sighed, looking away from you as if he was embarrassed all of a sudden. You could swear you saw his cheeks flush. “Because I don’t even like her. You’re the only girl I can stand being with.”

Now it was your turn to blush. As best as you could, you tried to ignore the funny, giddy feeling in your chest. “You know you'll have to marry some girl one day, right?”

“Then I’ll ask you to marry me,” Jungkook said and for the first time since he had started this conversation, he actually looked you in the eye. When he saw your shocked expression, he mumbled, “Maybe in like… ten years or something. Once we are out of college.”

You snorted, nudging his side. Despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, you regained your composure. “Do you think I will put up with your for that long?”

“We know each other since we were six and you haven’t run away yet. Besides, I’m the only boy you aren’t scared to talk to.”

“Hey! That’s–Maybe it’ll change in the future! Maybe–”

Jungkook ignored you and instead thrusted his pinky finger in your direction. You stopped speaking right away. Pinky promises held little significance yet for some reason, you felt like it was a serious situation. And if the determined look on your best friend's face was anything to go by, he thought the same.

“If we don’t find anyone worth giving our heart to by the time we are twenty-five, let’s get married. Promise?”

You were astonished, to say the least, staring at this hand with wide eyes. You were only fourteen back then and to hear something like that from the boy you loved was like a teenage dream come true. You replied with blind devotion. Because there was only one, good answer to such question.

“Promise.”

You are twenty-four now, hopelessly in love with your best friend and the smell of peonies still makes you nauseous.

#jungkook smut #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #my writing #an ode to a broken heart

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cookie-cutter-communications · 3 years

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It has taken quite some time for Aloe to muster up enough strength to wander through the unfamiliar halls of the mansion that they were forced to call home for the time being. Their chest- or lack thereof- still ached when they exerted themself too much, but it was better than passing out in the agony that they were in however long ago. As their steps carried them through the halls to one of the only familiar rooms in this place, Aloe would place a hand against the cloth that had been sewn for them, feeling an indentation where their injury remained. The indent was deep, and though they didn't wish to believe in something that sounded so ridiculous, it felt like there was still an entire hole through them. "How does one's anatomy last like this...?" They would murmur to themself.

And though they wished to push further amid their wandering, something- well, someone- bumped into them, knocking them into a stumble more than they would like to have admitted. "Ah, apologies-!" The thief would quickly state in light of their swiftness being more clumsy than smooth. Aloe felt a grip on their arm and, sure enough, Roguefort was holding them to ensure they didn't fall over in the clothes that had made just as clumsily as they had acted. The hold was a kind gesture, but one that the scientist was not all too sure on accepting, considering who Aloe themself was. And still somewhat is, in some regard. "Uh, I am unsure if you have heard, but I am going to scout out a place for me and Cyborg to have our next heist. I assume you won't be coming with?"

There was some expectant, worried look in their eyes that Aloe couldn't recognize. It was almost as if Rogue wanted them to come with for one reason or another... but with a sigh and the shake of the head, they would reject the offer. "I am not nearly as swift as the both of you. Not only that, but you do understand that your crimes are both illegal by the legality of the law and of the way this world runs, yes?" A smile would grow on the procurer of gems' face as they gave a breathy laugh. "Do you truly believe that we care for the law at this point? You could have just said no, you know!"

"When have I ever been short and to the point?" "I mean considering your height, I would say-" "I would say you should get going before you say something you regret."

Despite how bitter the scientist could be, there was something about the rudeness that fell more towards the side of endearing and playful. Is this why Cyborg and themself seemed to get along despite their bickering in recent days? Was that their means of entertaining each other? Either way, Roguefort would find humor in such just this once. "If you say so, but do not expect me to let up on using your height as a point of humor." "You only state that considering you are the tallest individual to exist for now..." "Hmm?" "What?" "You said-" "I said nothing in particular. Now get going."

Rogue would narrow their eyes at the shorter, though wouldn't say anything more and turn away to continue. They'd take a few steps forward, trying to process what Aloe could have possibly meant until perking up and turning back to see the other lost in thought. Seems like they weren't the only one who got lost in whatever their mind brought them if they were recognizing things correctly. "Erm, I know you stated for me to leave, but..." Roguefort would pause, making sure that Aloe was paying attention and not still lost. The scientist seemed surprised, as if they thought they were already alone. "I do have one request, if I may ask..." A silent nod was all they were given in response. "Well, since I will likely be gone for an hour or so to find a proper place full of preciously glinting gemstones... Could you look after Cyborg? Make sure they do not do something that could harm them?"

"I was planning on doing such anyways, but I will keep an extra close eye on them without you here to quell their antics." Rogue's expression would soften upon being reassured. "Thank you. Sincerely." They'd speak with as much of a genuine tone as they could give before turning and continuing on their way, just as quick as before. Aloe wondered how the thief felt wearing that new set of clothes. They hoped that there was no unluckiness brought upon by its design. At least those ribbons that they added did seem to suit the aesthetic appeal, as much as they didn't care for how things looked so long as they were efficient.

Speaking of efficiency, why were they so caught up in another's dressings when they had an assignment to complete? Find Cyborg and make sure they, for lack of a better word, didn't do anything stupid. Knowing the half-bot, that would either be the easiest or most difficult task they've had in a long while, leaning towards the latter of the two. With a sigh, the plant would depart for one of the more familiar places of the mansion. More than likely, they were in the kitchen eating stolen ice cream from some unthinking vendor, or perhaps they were just blasting around as they always did. How much change had their living work gone through?

Ah, here they go, wandering through thought after thought with no clear answers or goal. With their steps steady, they'd let their mind take the wheel, something that they had gotten used to entirely yet not at all. The nature of thought, what exactly was wrong with it? Well, it was irrational. Imperfect. It could lead to misunderstanding and fights, fear and destruction... A far cry from the joy that those naturally felt, especially when left uncontrolled. It was trains of thought like this that tugged Aloe's mind back towards where they were before. Their thoughts had become audible murmurs, though they stopped and immediately looked behind them as some sort of instinctual paranoia had kicked in for them. They'd turn around, spotting one of their wires protruding from the ceiling. They'd glare at such a thing, watching it retract. "Best be more careful with what exactly is thought of in terms of thoughtlessness, then..."

Strings of thought would continue to dwell and wrap around Aloe's mind, though with no clear ties or ends to any of them. The only thing that brought them away from such thoughts was some sort of clinking noise. And as they stepped forward, it would get louder and louder, interrupting more of their thoughts until it became the only thing they could hear in what was otherwise silence and their own footsteps. "What is that racket...?" They'd grumble. Raising their gaze, the plant would see that they were right next to a door, with Cyborg being seen flying just above a windowsill in that room, blaster clinking on the glass. So, this is where they were.

"Cyborg, what are you doing?" The scientist would incredulously inquire while entering, idly recognizing this room as the one they had spent most of their time resting in. Their chest cavity ached at such a thought. "I'm trying to count how many people are outside! There are so many of them! I don't think we'd be able to give them all snacks to leave us alone!" "You believe snacks will ward them off?" Though the two of them haven't spoken of it, there was no way one living in this place could go without seeing the large crowd that had gathered outside. Tens, perhaps even a hundred if counted by Cyborg and how faulty their math was at times, just... Crowding around the front of the place. They had no thoughts on how to deal with them, which is surprising considering how much they'd think on other topics. "I mean, you think we could just ask them to leave?" Cy would turn away from the unreadable number of smiling faces to curiously stare at Aloe. "Our fridge isn't big enough for all of them! And all their eyes being on us all the time is creepy! It's like we're some kinda show put on for other's entertainment and they're the audience just waiting for our next appearance!"

Aloe would stare dumbfounded at the other, hand raising as if they wanted to make a point but... Any words they could have had died in their mouth. "What?" Cyborg would ask with a cock of their head, "I was just saying it meta... phh... fffforri... Not realistically! Either way, I wanna pay a visit to them and get them to go away!" It took a few moments for Loe to process what had been spoken, shaking their head to bring themself back to reality. "Right, well, if you are going to do something that is honestly incredibly... For lack of a better word, utterly idiotic... I am going to accompany you. I have been tasked to take care of you, after all, and I intend on completing this as smoothly as possible."

"Ughhhh, what are you, my Nanny? Whatever," Cyborg rolled their eye lights, though they wound up rolling their entire head along with it. "At least you're actually letting me do something! This is an improvement! Hehe, c'mon, let's go say hi and get them to leave us alone!" And before Aloe would speak another word, their hand was grabbed and they were being dragged along. It wouldn't be too bad if they both walked, but Cyborg was keen on continuing to float despite how awkward it made holding their hand. "Wait a moment- aren't you- ack- going to wait until Roguefort returns before doing this? Just in case we need their aid?" "We'll be fiiiine! Besides, I don't wait on anyone!" "It is unfortunate how true that statement is..."

There wasn't even a time to prepare before Cyborg would burst that front door open, bringing them both face to face with who knows how many husks. Did the half-bot not realize how much danger they were throwing them both into!? "Stay- stay in your 'character' so they don't act suspicious of us-!" Was all they could get out before Cy had started striking up a conversation with them. Well, with how energetic Cyborg was before all of this mess, they should hopefully prove to be fine. Now all they needed to do is act as they did when not being the one in contr-

"Hello, Aloe!" A husk would greet, causing them to jump. As much as that was an accident, it was entirely 'in-character' for them- though it did cause their injury to pain them. They had to stifle a wince as they turned to one of the many husks- the one that had spoken to them. "Yes, hello, you... You and your group need to disperse from here-" Straight and to the point, but it didn't help that there were so many here to retort against them. "But we are here to help you two!" Another one of them would say, having Aloe whip back around to address it. Ugh, all this turning and twisting didn't bode well on their still-recovering body. "We are perfectly fine! Do you not realize how many germs are being spread through the air between all of you? This is highly unsanitary! Disgustingly dangerous, even! Air purification outside is harder than you think!" "Is that why your breathing is so weird, Aloe?" "Is that why you're holding your chest, Aloe?" "Is that why, is that why?"

The plant's pupils shrank as they felt hands reach and grab at them. Their body trembled against the touches, knowing that this meant that they were found out. They looked to Cyborg, who had already been snagged up, and seeing their blaster light up for a moment but die down as distress would cover their expression. "H-hey! Can we please be let go? Weh- You guys are holding a-a bit tight!" They... Didn't want to fight these? The scientist couldn't blame them- they didn't wish to use their wires against these things, either, if they even knew how to control them well without being 'in-line'. Aloe would heave an uneven breath, desperately trying to address the crowd despite how they didn't seem to listen to anyone. "I-I did not say you could touch me! Let me- Let us go! Unhand us! Have any of you even washed your hands today?!" Despite their farce, these things seemed to be more cunning than they let on.

"We can't have any impurities in someone as important as you!" "Yes, yes! We are going to fix you right up!" "You're both going to a place full of sunshine and rainbows, we promise!" "You'll be perfectly happy, just like all of us!"

Their chattering would go on and on as the two of them were dragged. As much as they struggled, there were too many hands and too many bodies keeping them from escaping. "How could you all possibly fix us? I am the only one who can do so in this area! I am the only Controller that-" "Not anymore!" "Wh... What?" There was a collective giggle from the ones that surrounded them. It sent a chill down Aloe's spine listening to these things be so unnaturally happy. "Since you were the only one, and you were compromised, it's only fair that there would be another one made to keep us in check! You won't need to worry about it, though, since you won't remember any of this! No more pain, no more hate between you guys, just happiness!" "But we don't-" "But we really don't actually-"

The similar retort caused the two to look at each other in some sort of strangely desperate surprise. Seems like the two of them truly didn't despise each other... That was a relief on both of their ends, though it didn't help in the fact that there was an eye-bleedingly bright building in the distance they seemed to be headed straight towards. Cyborg's struggling kicked up a few notches then, whining with their engines whirring. "Even if I love rainbows, I'm pretty sure I am going to hate that place! And I don't wanna forget everything that I've had with Aloe and Roguefuck! Especially Roguey!!" And yet, their words would go unheard.

"We are going to make you into your best selves!" "We see the tension between you two, and we're gonna help you not have it anymore!" "You're both imperfect, and that just won't do!" "You both want to forget, you just won't admit it!" "No worries, we're almost at the door!"

There was a small sound of disgust from the plant as they contemplated if this is how they sounded when they were just as much of a husk as the others. Sure, they had a few benefits, but all this talk the duo heard was... Cultish and abnormal, unnerving at best.

"The only thing I wanna forget is your stupid faces!" Cyborg would chime, still struggling despite how Aloe had somewhat resigned to their fate. Well, less resignation and more knowing that they would pass out if they put too much effort into this. "Good one, Cyborg," They would state without attempting to hide their sarcasm. And yet, despite that- "Wow, thanks!" "..." "Hey, wait a minu-!"

And with that realization, the two were practically chucked into the building with the both of them shrieking and bracing for the worst. Shrowded in the dark and unknown, there was no telling what would await them in here. At least entering the place didn't seem to fix them instantly, so... There was that saving grace. And despite the danger they were both in, Cyborg would use an abnormally quiet voice as they laid on the floor after being essentially thrown in. "I hope Roguey is okay..."

Deftly exiting their home from one of the windows, since the front exit clearly wasn't safe with the hoard that was just outside of their door, Roguefort would lift themself atop the building and onto the roof. It was quick work, made even quicker with how light their clothing was. They adored this new set of cloth, reminding them of how they were no longer what they were- just some thoughtless thief of fine arts. Instead, fine gemstones called to them. And that's exactly what they would be on the search for.

Once atop their building, they would take leap after leap onto trees and whatever buildings surrounded their home. There was mostly vegetation, considering a 'lonely' thief would need a just as 'lonely' home- not that it was anything akin to that anymore. From branches to roofs to whatever else they could scale and climb- the thief took their due diligence not to slip up and get caught in any manner and only using their cane's hook when it was safest. They were a little out of practice with it, to say the least. They'd scale until they were able to get to some sort of vantage point in the form of a building's spire, peering out and squinting to try and spot any jeweler buildings from where they stood.

Instead, they spotted a very colorful and large crowd. What was all that commotion about? They'd give up their place of observation, sliding down the side of the building they were on and doing the same as they did before to try and see what was going on with this mass of husks. The only other time they've seen a crowd this big was before their own home, and if it was the same, then...

A deeply disturbing sensation filled Roguefort's chest as they darted faster than ever, attempting to get a good look at the crowd. They scanned over for purples and greens, perhaps some silver and white, anything to alert them if the two they were caring for were in any sort of trouble. And- to their horror- they were able to faintly hear Cyborg's voice crying out as they approached nearer. Closer and closer they would get, remaining hidden amongst rooftops, to be shaken to their core seeing both of them- Cyborg and Aloe- caught up and being forcefully towed along by the very husks they wished to avoid. "This- this can't be-" They spoke with bated breath, frozen still for just a moment before vigorously shaking themself out of it. Their eyes flickered between the crowd and their cane. If... If they had to do something brash, so be it.

They just prayed that if they were to commit something heinous against these thoughtless freaks... Cyborg wouldn't hate them. Their legs carried them onward, but their mind remained in the same place. Keep them both safe. Keep them away from danger. No cost too great for their safety. There was no sacrifice too heavy for these two to continue living as freely as they are.

#a.loe #cy.borg #rogue.fort #written by you know who #cookie run #cookie run au #we are so close to fixing these errors that you have let sprout #and to the other- do you truly believe that using such force will allow you to save anyone?#if anything you have doomed them further by taking up such a task of resistance against a tide that is too strong for you- for them- for all #well all except us that is :)

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yokelish · 4 years

Text

Heart of a dog.

An OC for BSD no one asked for? It’s more likely than you think. A day in life of an original character by Yokelish no one asked for? Absolutely. I don’t have to, I know, but Misha has been on my mind recently, which worries me. Mostly, worries me about me. Anyway.....Here he comes. I just want to make sure for myself that I can tweak my writing style a bit. I am very humorous.You can read it, of course, and you can take it as an example of how not to write an original character.

Anyone, here’s a thing I made for my kouhai, check that if you are more interested in canon characters.

✏ Universe: Bungou Stray Dogs ✏ Characters: Mikhail Bulgakov OC ✏ Word count: 3,094 (too many tbh) ✏ Warnings: mentions of alcoholism, drugs, smoking, and a dead animal.

Heart of a dog.

If there was a god above, then he must know how awful it felt to wake up in the morning. There was nothing as worthy of collective loathing as mornings. Extra sprinkles of revulsion get the mornings involving work. Mikhail covered his eyes when picking up the ringing phone. The light hurt him just as much as the idea of getting up from the bed. The ringing was tenfold louder and more annoying in his head, hitting the walls in his skulls like a smith’s hammer. Every sensation felt like an assault on his already shaky sanity.

“You have a patient in an hour,” said familiar voice on the line. Misha groaned. It wasn’t her voice that grinding on his nerves, it was the idea of having to do work today. The woman on the phone sighed with deliberate loudness just to let him know all about her frustration. She was the only person who could stand having him. Mostly because he payed her a pretty sum but that wasn’t the only reason.

“You have no option,” Nadejda reprimanded. There was a sound of typing on the other side, but it ceased quickly. “It’s Olga Danilovna.”

He took a deep breath. There was no mental exercise to prepare for that. “Dear, I don’t pay you for ruining my day the moment it begun.”

“Right, you pay me to do my job,” she spoke sternly. “And if my job ruins your day the moment it begins, I’m sorry, get a better life.”

“Understood, the blame is mine. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“You better be here in an hour.” Nadya hang up the phone first. The annoying sound of a call ending assaulted his hearing. The sensations of the outside were coming on too strong, they were attacking, they were frustrating. Everything was too sharp, too bright, too loud. His head was pounding with the reminders of how Misha had spent the last three days. It was nothing close to productive.

Mikhail got up from the bed with a groan of a man who was drinking for days straight. He wasn’t dry for an hour, as the saying was. He sighed, and groaned, and regretted the drinking. He would do it again. The clothes on the floor didn’t bother him. There was never anyone to pass judgement. There was never anyone to tell him to get his life together either. There was simply no one. Barefoot he walked across the room, picking up and collecting articles of clothing that would go in the wash now. There was an hour for him to get to the office, which wasn’t impossible, but it meant he had to move around his small apartment faster. And he doubted his mind and body could comprehend moving faster without sending the surroundings spinning. Everything was too overwhelming now. It wouldn’t get better for a while.

The cold water splashing against his face brought some sanity back. It felt good to be reminded the drinking had yet to kill him. It was nice to be reminded he had a job only he could do. It felt good that he was alive and capable of doing something. It was all a comforting lie to get over himself and his hangover.

The cold air of the outside smelled like that of a big and polluted city. The sounds were loud but distant, multiple but common. Nothing new was added to the picture he witnessed day after day. It’s an old painting he studied for hours, every stroke, every shade, every perspective too familiar. Nothing about it was new or surprising or remotely pleasant. It simply was and it was only ever changing in ways that didn’t matter. The city he got too familiar living in. The air, the sounds, the broken pavement underneath. The sun was hiding or finding comfort in the heavy grey clouds foretelling rain. The sun, too, didn’t want to see the city. This weather was for the better. The bright and shiny would sulk the mood. That would go against his already ruined day. Bulgakov stopped walking only to get the cigarettes out and start one. The smoke felt good in his lungs. It smelled better than the city too.

Fortunately, it didn’t start to rain while he was trying to get to his office on time. Doctor Bulgakov appeared in a somewhat acceptable state in. Unfortunately, he didn’t make it within the given time frame. And, unfortunately, there were no excuse for him available either.

“Late.” A stern, annoyed, but factual statement. The voice belonging to the woman of the hour. Mikhail shook of his coat and carelessly hung it. Nadejda was sitting at the receptionist table looking very annoyed herself, staring daggers at the other woman. Such were the days featuring Olga Danilovna.

“Hey there, Dan. It’s been a while,” Mikhail shifted his attention to the child in a wheelchair. He was a blonde boy, aged eleven, with a pet cage on his lap. The cage covered up with a blanket. By the size of it, Misha would guess it was fit for a rabbit.

“Hello, Doctor Misha,” the boy replied slowly, patting the blanket-covered cage as if the animal could feel it.

“I guess it’s your leg this time.”

“It hurts.” As honest as a child could be. Nothing wrong in admitting being in pain. Danila was staring at the wall mindlessly, repeating the same motions with his hand.

“Just hold on a little longer,” the doctor assured. “It will be over soon.”

Bulgakov unlocked the door to the examination office. It smelled the same as always: sickeningly familiar smell of disinfectant that turns sweet to senses over time. It smelled more like home that anything else. Nadya was always a good keeper. She kept his office as pristine as she kept his dirty secret. Well, the secret wasn’t awfully dirty but, as all secrets are, problematic to keep in check. It had to be controlled who knew and who didn’t. If too many people knew about it, life would become very uncomfortable very quick. And Mikhail was a person of comfort.

For the sake of formality, he put on white medical coat over his sweater. He took the cage off the boy’s lap and placed it on the table. Danila barely reacted to the change, dropping his hand on his lap the moment the cage was gone. Bulgakov peeked inside. Inside was, indeed, a rabbit.

“You really like animals, Doctor Misha. Where do you keep them all?” Danila asked. It was a gift of being a child to be so oblivious to the obvious.

“Me? No. I have a friend who lives on a farm. He adores them,” Bulgakov lied and did so naturally. At some point, he even thought of a name for said friend, how big the farm was and what animals lived there now. A well-repeated lie was a believable lie. The more it’s told, the more it turned into the truth of things. It wasn’t a stretch of intellectual thought to count all the pets that came into his office along with the patients and conclude a remarkably simple outcome: those pets never went home with him. But he wouldn’t break a child’s heart so cruelly. In six weeks, Dan’s leg would be perfectly healed. And the rabbit would be six weeks older. But six weeks is too long for his mother to wait. A broken bone is a note in the medical history of an upcoming sports star. Mikhail never bothered to remember what exactly Danila played.

Mikhail came to inspect the boy’s leg. The safest bet in his line of work is to assume the worst possible injury: broken. But on the plus size, it seemed to be broken only in one place.

“Put your arms around my neck and hold on as tight as you can,” he said to the boy. Tiny hand grabbed around his neck without much force behind it. “On a count of three. One.” He carefully hooked his arms under Dan’s legs. “Two.” The doctor mentally braced himself. “Three.”

It wasn’t terribly difficult. It was only the weight of a child, after all. But Misha was having a terrible hangover and, thus, everything seemed more difficult than it should have been. Danila was now sitting on the exam table. Not that there was anything else to examine. And even if there was some injury unseen to the naked eye, he hardly had the equipment for it. Taking care of the child was a job for the mother. Bulgakov offered the headphones to the child. A useful thing to protect the child from a conversation that a child should not be privy to.

“Well, you know the drill, Dan,” Mikhail said, helping the boy to lie down comfortably on the table. “Headphones on, eyes closed, full relaxation.” The patient nodded, putting on the noise cancelling headphones on without questions. Danila was a good child just not equally blessed with good parents.

After making sure that Dan couldn’t hear a thing, Bulgakov returned to the rabbit in a cage. Lovely animal: calm, big, with a shiny fur. Misha took the rabbit in his arms and started to gently stroke the animal to calm it. It was warm, and alive, and completely defenseless.

“You look like you’ve been drinking for two days straight,” Olga Danilovna observed. Misha couldn’t tell if she was judging or simply stating. Not that he cared for either of those things, it was mere curiosity. He rarely could decipher any emotion within her unless it was anger and irritation.

After a quick mental math exercise, he forced a smile on his face. “Actually, it was three. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“You think you are funny,” she mocked him. “Nothing worse than a man thinking himself funny.”

“I thought there was nothing better than a man acting like a clown,” Misha replied, grinning. “And nothing worse than a man thinking himself awfully charming.”

Olga shook her head, fake blonde hair perfectly styled with too much spray, and rolled her eyes. And that was the end of that conversation. However, there was something else on Bulgakov’s mind, something he doubted was worth mentioning. After all, it wasn’t any of his business. The last thing he needed to do is to pass any judgment on people who paid him. It was an excellent advice, most importantly, it was an instruction he gave himself. He couldn’t be wrong about that. And so, he didn’t listen.

“You drugged him,” he stated simply. There was barely any judgement in his voice. There was no point in judging a client, least of all, a client that wouldn’t listen. But a warning wasn’t something Olga Danilovna would accept either. A challenge, however, she could listen to.

“I gave him painkillers, yes,” replied Olga.

“No, I expected painkillers, that’s why he wasn’t crying by the time I showed up. I am saying you drugged him. I noticed the slowness in his reaction time. I saw his eyes up close.”

“What did you expect me to do? He is still a boy and can’t handle pain very well.”

Bulgakov sighed. What was he expecting to get by starting this conversation, anyway? Danila was his patient and nothing more. And the only reason the kid even was a patient was because his mother could afford to pay. It really wasn’t any of his business. He should forget about it. Mikhail continued to stroke the animal in his arms, offering whatever little comfort he could. And taking in all the comfort the rabbit could provide. It was alive, and warm, and with a soft fur. It felt lovely to hold a rabbit in his arms.

“I have to ask, though,” Olda Danilovna started to speak again, “would you be able to treat a concussion?”

“A concussion? Are you serious, Ol’?” he could even tell why he was getting riled up. “He’s eleven. Get him into swimming or some other Olympic sport.” Never mind, after some quick digging, he remembered that he had a personal dislike towards Olga Danilovna. Money can buy a service; it cannot buy positive personal bias unless for testifying in court.

“And what of it? Even if he wins the Olympics and brings home gold, he will peak before he’s twenty-five and then what?” Olga crossed her arms on her chest. Cold-blue flame flickering in her eyes dangerously — a warning. “Be a PE teacher? A swimming coach? No, thank you. And answer my question, damn you.”

“Sure, I can,” Mikhail answered, giving up. Arguing with a woman such as herself would only bring headache. Her voice was as sharp as her glare. And he was still recovering after a hangover.

“Would a rabbit suffice?” she continued to question.

“Depends on the severity,” the man shrugged. The rabbit in his arms was acting like a perfect companion. Perhaps, whatever little comfort he could offer was just enough to keep it calm. “If there is an open wound gushing out blood from his head, then no, you’ll have to find something bigger.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there are plenty of stray dogs on the streets.”

“Screw you.”

“Understandable.”

Cutting the conversation short, Bulgakov took his seat behind the table. The rabbit still cradled in his arms. He knew the pain that would follow render him useless, he’d collapse on the floor and then live with the embarrassment of such memory. Not that he cared for it, but for the sake of formality. The pain intensified and was only made worse by the remains of the hangover. If it made his head pound and body feel weak, now he could safely say he knew exactly what getting hit by a car felt like. It was a pain to the tips of his fingers, clouding his mind, rendering him mute and weak. The only positive about this state was that he was familiar with this. It was a pain that never got better; it never got worse. It was stagnant and familiar, which means he got used to it over time, with each use. He learned to live with it. Today just happened to be a little worse due to careless hangover. His hand rested on the still warm rabbit’s fur.

“You can take him, Ol’,” Bulgakov rasped as if dying from thirst. “Nadejda Andreevna will process the payment.”

Olga Danilovna didn’t waste a second more, running up to her son and getting him up from the table. In a hurry she could pass for a warn and loving mother, she even examined the previously broken leg. She asked if anything hurt. Olga could pass for a caring mother and not a woman who wanted to live out her ambitions through her son. With his leg perfectly healed, Danila wheeled the chair himself.

“Thank you, Doctor Misha,” the boy said with a smile before leaving the room. His reactions were a little faster this time around.

Mikhail, however, barely had the mental capacity left free from the pain to comprehend the words and offer a reply. Nonetheless, he managed. “Be careful next time, Dan.” He offered a feeble wave of his hand before the boy left. When the door closed, Misha slouched on the table, resting his forehead against the cold wood. It was offering no relief whatsoever, but it felt grounding. A sensation to tether him to reality, otherwise, he would allow himself to drift away from it. The rabbit’s fur felt less warm. That was even less of a comfort. It stopped mattering the moment he picked his phone this morning.

It was all a little useless. Nothing but a play of a repentant man. One actor theatre: he is on stage and is the audience. He didn’t count seconds, cared not for minutes it took for Nadya to come in through the door with a glass of water. He heard the door opening, her light steps, but didn’t want to raise his head just yet.

“You’ll survive, right?” Nadejda asked with amusement in her voice. He was rendered useless, true, but not helpless.

“Bastards live a long life.” A glass was placed on his table. Mikhail chuckled, amused by the thought that rushed through his pounding head. “Careful, dear, I’ll start to think you are a warm and caring human being.”

“That will be your grave mistake,” she replied.

“Doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Take your pills and, please, with water. It’s not in my interest for you to choke on them.”

“I shall.”

“You want me to take care of that?” she asked coldly, uncaring. That was why their arrangement was most perfect. That was why he hired her and why she remained by his side. There were few reasons why she could stand to work for such a horrible, irresponsible boss. Not only because he could pay her a pretty number. Not only because they were legally bound by a contract, preventing Nadejda from getting her hefty paycheck in case of Bulgakov’s strange death. It wasn’t only because she could keep her pretty mouth perfectly shut. But because Nadejda was aware of her self-serving nature and did not care. Nadejda Andreevna did not, in fact, care for anything but herself.

Mikhail placed the rabbit on the table and took out a cigarette from inside his pocket. He put one in his mouth. Nadya wordlessly offered a lighter. The smoke felt good inside his lungs: warm, calming, and perfectly harmful.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll take care of it,” Mikhail replied, evenly breathing out cigarette smoke. He reached in the drawer to get the pills out. Something to dull the pain, something to bring more senses back to life. Nadya was leaving the room in her usual catlike steps.

“You’ll lock up, right?” she asked, stopping in the doorway.

“Sure,” Misha nodded.

“See you when I see you.”

“Right back at ya.”

The door closed behind her. Soon, the office would be completely empty. He would leave, locking up for the day. Soon, the pain from his body would disappear completely, gone without a trace. His state would return to what it was when he woke up. Soon, there would be nothing bothering him but the hangover. The pounding would get less intense as time passed. By the end of the day, he should fell relatively fine. Soon, he would be heading home where he’d get to be as miserable as he felt like to be. Soon. Right after he would bury this obviously very dead rabbit on the table.

#yokelishtorturesenglish #BSD OC #bsd fanfic but OC so....#if you read it.....do you have questions? something you noticed?#yo is always happy to talk about them shitty creations

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dragonnan · 4 years

Note

16, 17 and 19 for the most recent ask thingy, should you feel the mood sway you. 😁

The mood will ALWAYS sway me lol!

16. Describe your WIP that currently has the highest word count.

Simon and Simon and Psych (Psych/Simon & Simon) Word count: 24,323

So this one, in spite of not being updated in YEARS, is a story I’m still absolutely on fire to resume because I’m just thrilled af about the concept. It’s a crossover between 2 series I love - Psych and Simon & Simon (an 80s Private Detective series). What excites me most about it was the reimagining of Simon & Simon for the modern era while still retaining all of the things that made the characters what they were.

A little back story on Simon & Simon as I feel more people will be less familiar with that series of the two. The series is about 2 brothers who decided to open a detective agency together after the younger brother, AJ (Andrew Jackson), left the larger detective agency where he had been working for several years.

AJ is blond, surfed a great deal as a younger man, attended law school, and was considered the “golden child” growing up somewhat sheltered and cherished and maybe a tad innocent of the world. When his brother went to Viet Nam, AJ took part in the peace protests - primarily because he was terrified for his brother and wanted to do anything he could to make the fighting stop. AJ tends to be the more mature of the brothers - nearly always wearing a suit and usually takes lead in dealing with clients (assuming Rick doesn’t interrupt him).

Rick, the older brother, left home after they father died and bounced around from various interests, including being a biker for a time, before going to Viet Nam. He would come back from the war with a boatload of PTSD and a very fierce drive to protect his younger brother (probably far more so than he’d even felt prior to Viet Nam but to be clear - Rick is VERY protective of AJ). All of that, however, might take the casual observer by surprise as Rick is incredibly irresponsible (on the surface) and nearly always in a good mood or quick with a joke. Just don’t threaten baby bro other their mother. Really, just do not.

So that’s a bit of backstory so I can mention my changes for the modern era. Instead of Viet Nam, Rick is now a veteran of Desert Storm. They now both carry cell phones instead of relying on pay phones or other land lines. They have a website. I’ve updated their cars. Before, AJ drove a red Camaro T Top so I changed that to a 2008 Chevy Corvette. Rick, in the series, drove a 1979 Dodge Power Wagon so that one... did not change lol! I seriously cannot picture Rick in any other vehicle.

So after ALL OF THAT there’s actually a story in progress...

The plot thus far is that the Simon brothers are in Santa Barbara because AJ is running in the annual Half Marathon (an actual one cause I do like to blend some real events with my fiction lol). While in town, Rick goes to run an errand - picking up an item his buddy Carlos had shipped but wasn’t able to pick up himself because Carlos is... sketchy (an actual character from the series that we hear about anecdotally from Rick). Meanwhile, Juliet and Lassiter are at the shipyards as well, having set up a sting on suspicion of drug activity. So, of course, when Rick goes to collect this item for Carlos, he ends up being stopped by the cops who confiscate the item after finding it filled with drugs and they arrest Rick. THIS, then, is how the crossover comes into play as Shawn, of course, horns in on the investigation and immediately suspects that Rick is being setup so he volunteers to help out the Simons. Various things happen which ultimately leads Shawn, Gus, and AJ back to the shipyards and a suspicious warehouse (aren’t ALL warehouses suspicious?) where suspicious men are rapidly emptying it of product. The 3 men get caught and are bundled off in the back of a suspicious vehicle to a suspicious location. At about this time Rick is let out on bail (thanks moooom....) and in a panic as he hasn’t heard from his brother. When he realizes AJ must be in trouble, he ends up tentatively joining up with Juliet and Lassiter who are trying to find Shawn. Nobody is entirely thrilled with being teamed up in either group...

And this is roughly where things stand after the last update!

So after I’ve subjected you to all of the above, how about a snippet from chapter 1?

___

Shawn Spencer spun slowly in his father's chair – maintaining just enough speed to make a full revolution before kicking himself into another circuit. Typically he enjoyed his time at the station, provided he wasn't behind bars or being subjected to an interrogation. Okay, scratch that. He did enjoy an interrogation provided his hot pants girlfriend with a personal pair of handcuffs was the one dressing him down. He leered. He didn't even have to try to make that sound dirty.

Right. Back on the subject at hand. Naughty cop Jules would, sadly, have to wait until they could have some private time.

If they could have some private time. Of course, the way things were going lately...

And that brought him back full circle to his original beef.

Dad was being cagey. Like, Nick Cagey complete with diminished mane and sneaky covertness. Sure, he pretended he wasn't being covert but his dad sucked almost as bad as Lassie when he tried to fake acting casual. He was way too sour in the shorts to pull off that level of none chalice.

Like now, the old man was going for coffee. Like anybody with half a badge couldn't see right through that act. Shawn pulled together a mild sneer as his dad returned to his desk.

“Really? You put sugar in that too?”

His dad didn't look at him as he set his coffee on the desk. “Stop glaring at me. And get the hell out of my chair!”

Shawn didn't budge. “I am on to you.” He enunciated with immaculate exaggeration.

“The only thing you're on is my chair. And too many Pop Rocks; I thought Gus had cut you back to one pack a day.”

“I'm allowed two packs on the weekend.”

“It's Wednesday, kiddo. Maybe it's time you invested in a calendar.”

“Well maybe it's time you invested in hair plugs!” Shawn paused as his father crossed his arms. The pointing hand dropping back to his lap. “Too Terence Stamp? Sorry, I was caught up in the moment.”

“What do you want, Shawn?” Giving up on patience, Henry opted for shoving his son until he toppled out of the chair. Ignoring the yelp when Shawn flopped to the tile, he scooted closer to the desk so he could pull up the report he'd been working on. Fingers just coming to rest on his keyboard, he scowled at the active game of Pitfall taking up his screen. He tapped a button but rather than taking him back to the SBPD mainframe, it caused the character to jump into the green shapes he assumed were meant to be alligators. Behind him, Shawn gasped.

“You just killed my last guy!”

“Be grateful that's all I've killed.” Slapping a few more keys he finally found the right combination to get back to his report.

Still sitting on the floor, Shawn drew up his knees up and propped his chin on both fists. Not even managing to type a single word, Henry sighed and swiveled towards his moping son.

“What, Shawn?”

Now that he had the desired attention, Shawn pushed his lower lip out the tiniest bit. “Jules is busy and she said I can't help with the stakeout cause it's “super stupid important, Shawn” and Gus won't let me borrow the blueberry so I can follow her cause deep down inside I know she wants me to help cause, please, like I don't always make a stakeout better – I mean, who else is going to remember to bring an extra container of cheese dip for the nachos because one cup is just never enough and believe you me you do not want to short cheese a guy packing tear gas...”

Henry held up a hand to cut off the ramble that could easily go on another five minutes. With his other hand he rubbed at his aching eyes. Of course Shawn would find out about the sting. However, Chief Vick had been adamant about keeping him out of it. Henry had actually lobbied for including his son on the details – the memory of the last big operation that had temporarily cost him his job was not an easily healing wound. Rather than even attempt reconstructing the word barrage of bitching, Henry latched on to the least pointless detail.

“Where is Gus anyhow? I thought you two left an hour ago for dinner.”

Shawn shrugged. “I don't know for certain... I mean, by now he could be anywhere. He's always expressed an interest in touring with Alicia Keys...”

“Shawn.”

“We went to Taco Louie's and he insisted on the deep fried beef and bean mini burrito...”

Henry raised his hand again. Enough said.

“Well whatever you were thinking, I'm still not talking the Chief out of her decision. You're bored? How about you work on the burglary case I gave you.”

“Daaaad... the Redbox robberies?” Groaning, Shawn flopped on his back and sprawled dramatically. Officers passing back and forth shot glances at the display and Henry rubbed his face in embarrassment.

“Dammit, Shawn, get off the floor! You look like an idiot!”

Shawn sat up but didn't stand. Nor was he ready to let go of his latest complaint.

“Come on! Dad, Redbox? That is so... not sexy!”

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

This one is an Iron Man character exploration regarding Tony’s relationship with Obie and that, with hindsight, he realizes Obie had been grooming him. It will never cross that crucial line but the potential leaves Tony reeling. This will be in the same universe as another short fic titled “Simple Math”. Here’s the bit of writing I’d put together so far:

_____

He'd thought it was bonding; at the time. His dad had never been one for just hanging out; shooting the shit; telling tales out of school. No, Pops, when he bothered to interact, led with questions. “You keeping your grades up?” “You still seeing that floozy?” “When are you going to pull your head out of your ass and grow the hell up?” “You do realize it's my name you're disgracing every time you go on a bender?”

With Obie it was just, easy. Obie might ask about school but it was always with approval and pride. He would discuss Tony's conquests as though Tony had climbed Kilimanjaro wearing nothing but underwear and a cape.

Obie was there when his father wasn't. Which meant that Obie was always there. The first time he got astoundingly drunk on his father's scotch, Obie was the one to help him hunch over the toilet and vomit expensive, aged booze into the toilet. Obie was also the one to replace the depleted bottle to keep Howard in the dark. For a fourteen year old kid still trying to gain his dad's favor, that had meant everything.

He saw his first porn with Obie; sex education ala Traci Lords, three months shy of his fifteenth birthday. That was the same time he was introduced to weed. Obie had cautioned him to use it sparingly; didn't want to fry that genius brain, he'd say, and ruffle his hair. The porn had made him uncomfortable. Obie had turned it off and told him they could watch whatever Tony wanted. They'd ended up changing the station to Knight Rider; smoking and munching Cheetos and laughing over their orange fingers.

It was Obie who was there, arm around his shoulders, after his parents died. He desperately didn't want to sob in front of the man. Things were so complicated with his dad that all he felt was blinding guilt... as though some part of him had caused this. But Obie had filled him with bourbon until the emotions got soft around the edges and he'd sat beside the older man, head tipping gradually to the right until he was held up by Obie's bicep. Obie had just slung and arm around him and let Tony pass out while he rubbed a broad hand up and down his arm.

It was strange, now, looking back with adult perspective. A perspective that included Afghanistan and his intended execution and Obie's arm around his shoulders while he talked about legacy and responsibility while Tony's lungs slowly seized. He'd taken the time to sit there – arm around Tony's shoulders while one broad hand traveled up and down Tony's bicep – just like when he was a kid and Obie was the whole world.

He'd tried to remember if it had felt so tainted... at the time. Or if he'd always believed it was love.

Obie had never quite crossed that line. Though hindsight offered a peek into that possibility with enough clarity Tony had fought with his cramping gut for nearly thirty minutes. He'd staved off vomiting though he was fairly certain his dignity had still been in tatters what with Bruce wandering in on his misery.

19. What’s your favorite character headcanon?

Gosh... It’s funny that when asked the question the first thing that I ponder is “what head canons?? what are characters??? Do I even watch tv???” So I needed to ponder a bit.

As far as it goes my favorite head canons are not typically ones that I myself have come up with. And going with that maybe the best one I know is for the series, and character, Sherlock.

I’m am 100% all in on Sherlock being on the autism spectrum. Yes, I know this is attributed to MANY characters but consider the fact that those reasons have a ton of validity. Sherlock has very strong indications of being on the spectrum and having read quite a number of essays on the subject, many of which were written by people who are also on the spectrum, I’m completely convinced. It’s to the point I don’t even like calling it a “head canon” as that implies it’s only a fan concept and therefore has less likelihood. It just feels so deliberate with that character.

So going off from that I would say, in a more general sense, my favorite head canons are they type where we can discover neurologically atypical traits in characters - especially heroes. Too long anyone neurologically divergent is portrayed either as a victim or, FAR FAR worse, as the “crazed villain” and frankly that is disgusting. So it is beyond refreshing to suddenly have this amazing, brilliant, layered person who also displays autistic traits. In going back over characters that I’ve loved most there are many who have traits of this sort that, only in hindsight, do I recognize. Just a few off the top of my head; Malcolm Bright, Shawn Spencer (100% ADHD), Rapunzel, Rick Simon (remember him? lol), Adrien Monk (his OCD was very deliberate), as well as characters who’ve developed trauma after horrific events such as, well, most MCU characters but particularly Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. Malcolm Bright also very much was built from trauma but I also am convinced there are neurologically atypical traits at play.

Thank you so much for the great ask!!

#disappearinginq

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365days365movies · 3 years

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January 6, 2021: Last Action Hero (1993) (Part 1)

Let’s have some fun, shall we?

Comedy is my favorite genre, and I obviously also love action. So, when looking at the subgenres to cover this month, action-comedy most certainly was at the top of the list. But what exactly is action-comedy?

Exactly what it sounds like, funnily enough. Action-comedies rely on physical action sequences to further the plot, but also inject dialogue with humor and jokes throughout the script. Entertainment and amusement combined into one beautiful, succinct package. I’ll be judging the writing for these movies on how much they made me laugh while watching it. That said...

OK, so, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Last Action Hero. Schwarzenegger isn’t exactly the most emotionally expressive actor in the world, as you’ve probably noticed. And expressiveness is somewhat necessary to express humor. Look at Eddie Murphy up there, and see how expressive he is. Schwarzenegger...doesn’t have that. At all. But, this movie could still be funny! Shane Black wrote it, and he wrote one of my favorite guilty pleasure Halloween movies, The Monster Squad. So, I’m looking forward to this movie for that in and of itself. And with that...

Recap

We start with a sick guitar lick on Christmas Day, as a group of cops close in on a criminal known as the Ripper holding children hostage at an elementary school. But then...Jack Slater (played, naturally, by Arnold Schwarzenegger) arrives. And yes, this is a parody character and scene, meant to lambast all of the stereotypical renegade cop tropes that I’ve literally never seen in a movie. Like, I guess Lethal Weapon and Beverly Hills Cop have it, but I think this character concept has been Flanderized into...well...Jack Slater.

Slater kicks a cop through a window with a Schwarzenegger-esque action line, and CRUSHES A RADIO LIKE A NAPKIN. I appreciate Schwarzenegger making fun of himself like this, and we’ve only just begun. Jack goes through banter with the Ripper (Tom Noonan), who...is unironically terrifying. Holy shit, that guy is creepy as fuck, and his stylized ax is intimidating as hell. And as he holds Slater’s son hostage out of revenge, the two face off with some cool action beats, and...

...Shit, I think I want to watch this movie. And I don’t mean Last Action Hero, I mean the in-universe movie that our actual main character, Danny Madigan (Austin O’Brien) is watching. Danny’s a big Jack Slater fan, and one of the only patrons of a movie theater owned by Nick (Robert Prosky). Nick, a kind old man, invites Danny to see the next Slater film before anybody else. And honestly, I get it. I’d watch this movie series unironically if it existed, real talk. Mostly because it seems fun.

Danny’s skipped school just to see this movie, and he walks into his English class, where the teacher shows Lawrence Olivier as Hamlet. Fun fact! The English teacher showing it is played by Joanne Plowright, Olivier’s real life wife! Very sweet! Anyway, Danny, bored by a goddamn classic movie, conjures a different movie in his head.

Fuck yes. I need this movie to exist.

We learn from Danny’s mother (Mercedes Ruehl) that his father has recently died, and he spends far too much of his time watching movies at Nick’s theater. I look forward to this revelation never being explored. As he’s headed to the theater when he isn’t supposed to, he opens the door at the exact wrong time, and A ROBBER BREAKS INTO HIS PLACE, OH SHIT! Confronted with the type of real danger that he’d see in an action movie, and with no action hero to save him, the robber finds nothing of value and leaves the place. He gets rescued by the cops eventually, and they tell him to go home. But, no, he goes...to the movies.

Mom might have a point there, sport.

While he’s there, Nick brings him in, and begins to monologue to him about his past in the theater business. And that monologue introduces the MacGuffin of the film: the Golden Ticket, given to Nick by Houdini himself, and an alleged portal to another world.

So, is this gonna be more of a Pagemaster situation, or a The NeverEnding Story deal? The Golden Ticket is torn for admission, Danny sits down, and the movie-in-a-movie begins in earnest. In the film, Slater’s cousin Frank (Art Carney in his last film role) is being held hostage by the crime boss Vivaldi (Anthony Quinn), and his henchman...one of the most immediately visually interesting characters I’ve ever seen in a film...in a FILM.

Benedict (played by Charles Dance), is immediately a fascinating character, essentially a non-Marvel Bullseye, and a gunsman with flawless precision. And yeah...I dig it. Oh, how I dig it.

Jack Slater arrives in his snakeskin boots, and discovers Frank, who delivers a message in the cheesiest death sequence I’ve ever seen, followed by the cheesiest bomb compound I’ve ever seen, followed by a bigger explosion than anyone would’ve expected, FOLLOWED by...OK, look, the references to other action movies in this are already ridiculous and all over the place, and I refuse to spoil them all for those of you who’ve never seen this movie.

By the way, I gotta make a comment about Danny real quick. Watching this many action movies may have made him a little...detached...from reality. I say this because he expressed no shock or emotion during or after the robbery, then went immediately to the movie theater, and had no reaction whatsoever about the death of the two cops in the movie. Little budding sociopath, that Danny.

Although, that might change, now that the ticket’s getting all magic-y, and a stick of ACME dynamite (actually in the film, I swear) makes its way into the theater. It explodes, and Danny inexplicably (magically, even) finds himself in the movie. So, Pagemaster, then.

Danny’s complete lack of reaction and emotion in this situation confirms my theory on him being a liiiiiiiiiiittle detached from reality. But then...the most gloriously stupid thing I’ve seen this month happens.

Arnold proceeds to make a pun that is NOT “Nasty brainfreeze,” and I am disappointed forever. Who wrote this? Who wrote this?

We get a car chase fueled with jumps, gunfire, puns, a casual mention of premature ejaculation, and Coca Cola product placement, all accompanied by Danny finally showing a modicum of reaction to the fact that he is IN A FUCKING MOVIE. REACT MORE, DANNY. At his age, I would have soiled myself immediately. At MY age, I would soil myself if this happened to me! Anyway...

OK, I just have to say this now: this movie has some of the most insane shots and set-ups that I’ve ever seen, and by GOD, I am here for it. Like...Did you SEE the motorcycle dress girl panic while a man WAS ON FIRE IN THE BACKGROUND? Earlier, a car does an INSANE jump and crash and explodes in the BACKGROUND, and the movie just treats it like a pigeon flew on set! Nobody cares! THE SCENES IN THIS MOVIE MAKE INSANITY AN ART FORM.

Anyway...we get to the LAPD, and...HOLY SHIT. IS THAT…

Was that Sharon Stone as Catherine Trammel from Basic Instinct, and Robert Patrick as T1000 from Terminator 2? I...but...wait...if...how...I’m broken now. 404, blue screen, reboot, update needed, WHAT?!? I...just...SO many questions, and this movie better answer them.

We see some added insanity, including a man with a houndstooth suit which I DESPERATELY WANT but could not pull off. There’s literally a buddy cop generator, where we also see a rabbi cop, and an Amadeus reference is dropped as F. Murray goddamn Abraham (playing a cop named Practice) appears in this movie, and THEN...an animated cat cop sexually harasses a female cop. I am not joking.

Am...am I insane? Also, if I was in the theaters watching this movie-in-a-movie, I would be both angry and confused as to what in the FUCK was happening!!! WHY IS THERE AN ANIMATED CAT COP IN MY JACK SLATER MOVIE? WHO DIRECTED THIS BULLSHIT (in universe)?? Also that cat was recently suspended, and is also one of their best men.

And then, Danny uses his knowledge of the Jack Slater franchise to break down the barriers of repressed affection between the chief and Slater, and it’s briefly heartwarming for some reason. Anyway, they’re now suspicious of his knowledge of Slater’s life, and this leaves to the inevitable buddy cop pairing of Jack Slater and Danny Madigan. This art-deco something walks by…

...and I desperately need to know more about the art direction of this film. Because, wow, it is an absolute masterpiece of randomly exaggerated shit, damn.

To prove his point about being in a movie, Danny goes to a Blockbuster, which... man, does THAT bring me back! That’s right you young whippersnappers, I WAS THERE FOR BLOCKBUSTER IN THE ‘90s! We used to go to the store and look at the VHSs. I remember seeing The Lost World there, but my dad said I was too young for it. I was sad, but he got me some candy and a Really Wild Animals video, and we watched it that night after Carmen Sandiego. My God. It was paradise.

Anyway, Schwarzenegger doesn’t exist, and find out that Stallone has taken over his roles.

...I’d watch that. I’d watch the HELL out of that. Danny then uses some legitimately impressive math to dissect the “555” number thing in movies, as well as pointing out the lack of non-conventionally attractive women. Which, credit to you, kiddo, for addressing the overwrought emphasis on conventional attractiveness that permeated Hollywood at this time, and to this day. I mean, he’s not criticizing it, but he is pointing it out, and that’s better than nothing in the ‘90s.

Danny guides his way to Vivaldi’s house, where the butler is...Professor Toru Tanaki! He looks exactly like Odd Job from the James Bond series, but the actor is SubZero from The Running Man! You know, the hockey killer!

Anyway, after crack about Schwarzenegger’s “I’ll be back” line, a conversation with Benedict (who has a smiley face instead of a bullseye), and some terrible CGI dogs, Benedict becomes correctly convinced that something’s up with Danny. They arrive at his house, and his college-aged daughter Whitney (played by Bridgette Wilson, in her first film role in and out of the movie, in a neat little twist!) kisses Danny directly on the mouth, and I’m a liiiiiiittle uncomfortable with that. Anyway, we brush right past that, and realize that his son...died. Oh. Uh. Guess we didn’t see the end of that movie, huh? Yikes. Poor Jack.

Hey, Benedict and his gang arrive at Slater’s place! Fun! There’s a sort-of amusing play on “harming a hair on one’s head,” and the interrogation continues. Charles Dance is legitimately threatening as Benedict. And, while we’re at it, Bridgette Wilson has an entertaining action sequence all her own.

Anyway, Jack arrives, and makes a ridiculous jump off of the balcony to pursue Benedict. Benedict name drops getting a tank, which I’m assuming is named the Chekov (film trope reference there, have a good time). Danny realizes that he’s the comedy sidekick of the movie, and at this point, I need to mention something: in case you haven’t noticed, this film is delightfully meta. And I love that about it.

But it’s also...cluttered. You’ll see what I mean in a little bit, but real talk, I didn’t realize that Benedict had stolen the ticket until Danny mentioned it, because I was apparently quite distracted. And this is an important plot point, as Benedict soon realizes the true power of the ticket, cleverly overlaid by the opening to the Twilight Zone, with Rod Serling mentioning traveling to another dimension. Also...his eye was a bomb. What. Anyway, that explosion results in Slater officially getting fired from the department, and the chief...

Um. Yeah, this movie is also kind of a cartoon, not including the cartoon cat. And you have no idea how much I’m omitting from this movie. The digitization of Humphrey Bogart, the fact that Slater can’t say “fuck” in a PG-13 movie, the surprising character realization that Slater’s ex-wife is actually remarried, the clearly dominatrix cop clad in leather, the fact that there’s a plan to detonate a nerve gas-infused bomb stuffed into a dead man nicknamed Leo the Fart at his own funeral, a digitization of Humphrey Bogart. Yeah, I said that last one twice, because the effect actually holds up really well, like, seriously.

OK, let’s take a break, yeah? Part 2 later today!

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tran5rightsos · 3 years

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Tomorrow Might be Good for Something - Chapter One

Word Count: 1873

Leave Kudos?

Michael sighed irritably, glaring at the clock on the wall. Even after a month of consistent school attendance, he didn’t seem to be getting any more used to the way time tended to drag in boring classes.

“Twenty minutes,” Calum commented.

“This is bullshit,” Michael replied.

Calum looked at Mr Barnes, but luckily he hadn’t heard. Before Michael’s dad cracked down on his attendance, he would have just walked out of class the moment he felt bored, which was often. It was genuinely shocking that he was keeping up in class, given that he’d barely been there last year.

Personally, Calum was grateful for Mr Irwin’s intervention. Actually spending time with Michael in class meant that they’d slowly become friends. Their teachers were worried about Michael being a bad influence on Calum, but so far the most he got in trouble for was talking to him in class.

“You wanna go to HJ’s?” Michael asked a little loudly.

“I’d love to,” Mr Barnes replied, giving Michael a pointed look before turning back to the whiteboard to explain the quote he’d written on it to the class.

Michael rolled his eyes.

“Sure,” Calum said quietly.

The nearest Hungry Jack’s was a twenty minute walk from school and thirty minutes from Calum’s house, the perfect detour for when he didn’t wanna go home right after school. As they walked, Calum wondered if Michael was putting off going home too. They made conversation about movies, Michael suggesting that Calum come over to watch Mission: Impossible since he hadn’t seen it since he was little.

“Have you done the Maths homework?” Calum asked as they ate.

Michael scoffed. “The deal was that I go to school, not do schoolwork at home.”

Calum said nothing. He hoped Michael wasn’t that much of a smartass to his dad’s face. Calum’s would kill him if he tried something like that. He started having second thoughts about going over for a movie, but ultimately decided that he’d rather watch Michael get his ass beaten than go home.

Calum didn’t know how far Michael lived from him yet, he’d never been over before today. He lived in a pretty normal-looking house with a sleek silver muscle car parked in front of the garage.

As they approached the front door, Calum heard faint sounds of impact from the garage. They became louder when they got inside and he realised there was a sort of uneven rhythm to it. Four impacts, then a pause that varied in length, though sometimes there were fewer impacts before a pause.

Noticing Calum’s curiosity, Michael explained. “We have a gym in the garage. Shouldn’t be too loud, though.”

The entryway opened up to a combined kitchen, dining room and living area. Michael headed straight for the TV cupboard to look through the movies while Calum looked around. The door by the kitchen looked like it went to the garage and a sliding door in the dining area led to the back veranda. Calum guessed that the rest of the house was through the archway at the other end of the dining area.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Michael invited as he turned on the TV.

Calum didn’t know if he could do comfortable, but he took a seat on the couch as Michael went to the kitchen to get a bag of chips. He started settling in when Michael offered him a chip from the bowl he’d brought them.

“Tom Cruise is hot, huh?” Michael commented after a while.

Calum glanced at him and gave a non-commital grunt. Leave it to Michael to say something like that. Even to people who didn’t know him, the eyeliner, piercings and bright red hair should have made it obvious that he didn’t really give a shit about acceptable behaviour.

“Are you… into him?”

Michael scoffed. “I like dudes, yeah.”

Calum nodded. “He is kinda hot,” he eventually agreed. He didn’t want Michael to think he was weird about gay people.

Just then, the kitchen door opened and Calum froze. Shit.

A small kid from school, probably a year nine or something, walked in looking sweat and exhausted. He stared at Calum, seeming nervous about his unexpected presence, but Calum was more concerned with the man that followed him in.

He was somewhat aged, in his forties by lines in his face and the maths Calum guessed with, since he was probably a relative of Michael’s. His outfit consisted of shorts that showed off curvy thighs and a black singlet that clung to his body, showing off everything. He was in really good shape. His hair was black, curls dangling around his hawk-like eyes and filling out his heart-shaped face.

He ruffled the kid’s hair lightly. “Go shower, I’ll get lunch on.” There was a slight American twang in his accent, as if Calum needed to find the man any more intriguing.

The kid scampered away, which unfortunately left the man to focus his attention on Calum and Michael as he filled a glass at the kitchen sink.

“Haven’t seen you before,” he commented, “I’m Michael’s dad, Ashton.”

“‘M Calum,” Calum replied weakly. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, pulling his eyes away from Mr Irwin’s pouty lower lip.

“Calum.” Mr Irwin regarded him for a moment and Michael pulled his attention away from the movie to return the look. Mr Irwin grinned, showing dimples Calum hadn’t expected. “My boy behave himself in class?”

“Ash,” Michael groaned, flopping back against the couch in annoyance.

Mr Irwin chuckled and finally turned away to rummage through the fridge.

“Why do you call your dad by his name?” Calum whispered during a loud action sequence.

Michael glanced at him. “He’s- Me and Luke are adopted.” He didn’t bother keeping his voice down and Calum cringed, throwing Mr Irwin a glance.

“See the resemblance?” Mr Irwin joked as he put a capsicum on the island bench.

“Sorry,” Calum mumbled to Michael.

Michael shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Calum felt slightly less weird about finding his friend’s dad hot, but he would still rather die than admit it out loud. He focused on the movie and Michael’s commentary as much as he could while Mr Irwin cut vegetables in the kitchen, but couldn’t help the occasional glance. It wasn’t Calum’s fault that the man had fucking amazing arms.

“Mikes,” Mr Irwin called after a while.

Michael looked over at him.

“Can you finish lunch?” he asked, holding up a flip phone.

“When are you gonna be back?”

“I’ll let you know when I know,” he replied as he headed to the archway, “Don’t forget Luke’s peanut butter.”

Michael sighed and stood.

“You want help?” Calum volunteered, pausing the movie.

“Sure. It’s just stir-fry.”

The vegetables and tofu were already chopped, so Michael had Calum rinse the leafy greens in the sink while he put a wok on the stove and took out several bottles of various sauces. Mr Irwin reemerged as they were putting the veggies in, dressed in black jeans, a red button-up and a leather jacket, his shower-wet hair pushed back. Calum flinched when he walked straight at him and Michael, but all he did was pull Michael in for a quick, one-armed hug on the way out.

“Don’t wait up. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Michael replied easily before turning back to the stove.

When Calum’s heart rate had slowed somewhat, he asked if Michael needed any more help.

“Could you put some toast on? Bread’s in the fridge.”

Once the stir-fry was done and Michael had spread peanut butter on the two slice of toast, he put all the knives in the sink and filled it partway.

“Dinner!” he yelled, making Calum flinch.

The kid, Luke, slowly emerged from the hallway.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Michael asked with a frown as he took the wok to the table.

Luke shrugged, eyes flickering to Calum.

“Calum’s not gonna care.”

“Care about what?” Calum couldn’t see anything wrong with how Luke was dressed; he was just wearing shorts and a red flannel.

Michael shrugged. “Can you get the forks, Luke?”

They set the table, Michael putting the plate of toast in front of Luke before serving Calum a helping. He was shockingly well-mannered, given his behaviour at school.

“This is Calum, by the way.”

Calum gave Luke a smile, but he kept his eyes on his plate. “Were you exercising with your dad earlier?” he tried.

Luke nodded shyly.

“Boxing,” Michael said, gesturing for Luke to serve himself next.

Calum stared at Michael, wondering if that was just what they told people, if their “exercise” was closer to Mr Irwin taking his anger out on them. Michael didn’t seem scared of his adoptive father, though. Was that just part of his rebellious personality?

“Ashton wanted us to be able to protect ourselves, so he started teaching us when we were little,” Michael continued. He gave Luke’s hair a fond ruffle, Luke making an indignant noise in response. “Our little guy’s been getting strong recently,” he cooed in the kind of voice one might use when talking about a puppy.

Luke pouted in annoyance for a moment before taking a bite from his peanut butter stir-fry toast as Michael snickered.

“Where did your dad go?” Calum asked.

“Work,” Michael replied, “He gets called in for emergencies sometimes.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a mortician.”

Calum frowned. “Morticians have emergencies?”

Michael shrugged.

When they finished eating, they took the dishes to the sink.

“Do you wanna watch Mission: Impossible with me and Calum?” Michael asked Luke.

Luke chewed his lip and glanced at Calum, eventually nodding.

Michael gave his shoulder a pat. “Go wait for us.”

“Where are your knives?” Calum asked when they were washing up, holding up the one he’d just dried.

Michael hurriedly lowered his hand, glancing at Luke on the couch. “That drawer.”

Calum opened the drawer he’d pointed to, finding all their knives sitting in dividers, including the dinner knives that Calum would have expected to belong with the normal cutlery. He put the knife in an empty spot and closed the drawer, wondering if it was appropriate to ask. Maybe it was to keep them safe from children, but there wasn't a lock and, as far as Calum knew, Michael didn't have any siblings aside from Luke.

When they were done, Michael grabbed a bag of cheezels from the pantry and poured them into a new bowl and took it to the couch. Luke snuggled up to him as he sat and Calum took the seat on his other side. As they unpaused the movie, he found himself distracted by Luke, who kept pawing at Michael’s side, looking up at him urgently.

“Later,” Michael hissed to him, “A few hours won’t kill me.”

“A few hours?” Calum asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael replied, flicking Luke’s head.

Luke grumbled irritably, but didn’t actually say anything the whole time Calum was there. Mr Irwin didn’t come home either, though Michael assured him that he was usually stuck at the morgue for hours at a time when he was called in. Calum didn’t have a lot of close friends, but as he walked home he started to wonder if the Irwins were kinda weird.

#au: tomorrow #my fic

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fantroll-purgatory · 4 years

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@itoshiki

hello! im submitting my sort-of-trollsona-but-not-really. I made him I guess more Alternian and he’s highly personal 2 me but that shouldn’t discourage you! I’m stuck at some parts because I just recently got back into homestuck and I’d like advice from someone who knows their stuff. IT’S SO LONG IM SO SORRY… Thank you so much if you do review it tho!

Hey no worries. Thanks for your patience!

Hell yeah hell yeah ceruleanbloods with Eye Stuff.

World: Alternia, maybe an AU? I’m unsure. But he’s Alternian.

Name: Sancti Serpus

“Sancti” comes from “Saint” and his belief that he can do no wrong, as well as how he believes that his experiments benefit troll society. “Serpus” comes from “Serpent” and his personality being sly and manipulative, could be described as a snake by others in the way he is first nice to his friends but backstabs them later, as well as his lusus being a two-headed Titanoboa (prehistoric Boa).

I understand the reasoning behind the first name! If you want something that plays a little more into the archetypal Mad Scientist “I will become a GOD AHAHAHAHA” vibe then I suggest Apoteu from the Greek apotheoun, meaning “to make a god of.” Still fits his beliefs about himself and how he benefits society…but there is such a thing a vengeful, malevolent god.

I like the serpent theme, especially given the Rod of Asclepius/Caduceus confusion, given that the former is about medicine and the latter about commerce. Plus snake oil salesman as duplicitous people claiming they have a cure when they’re really just selling you whatever they could dig up. Serpus is a little too obvious as a snake troll though, so maybe we abstract that a bit. A slightly silly one would be Davdav, since the longest-living two-headed snake is named Double Dave after its discoverer.

Apoteu Davdav. It has the opposite of a nice ring to it, but I like it because it sounds kind of mad sciencey.

Age: 7.5 Sweeps (16 Human Years)

Theme/Story: His theme is sort of Mad Scientist vibes. He dabbles in forensic pathology, chemistry (even though he often explodes things), troll biology/genes and psychology. Those are his main 5 branches because he’s not very good at math so his knowledge of physics is limited.

fugidghiuuaehiu Bad At Math Science Gang RISE UP

He was hatched and went through The Brooding Caverns. He decided to settle on a Hive in the outskirts of a city, in a suburban area with only a few highblooded neighbors. However, his lusus was very, very hard to feed for the two heads would often argue with and attack each other. His lusus would feed on anyone who visited or came too close, by asphyxiating them. It also neglected him and didn’t pay attention to him for it was too busy fighting with itself. He eventually learned to sedate his lusus through aromatherapy, with chemicals he himself created in his lab. He lives on a huge castle-like hive near a forest where he gets the material for his experiments and corpses to analyze. He has a bunch of body parts in flasks and bottles.

He is a very strange troll, but he doesn’t want to be. Due to his upbringing and his lusus eating whoever came over. He often saw culling, death and destruction near him, which caused him to have a morbid fixation on death and a desire to better troll society through science, influenced by his ancestor Discordi Discipla (he’s a WIP). However, he has fallen victim to his own mental deterioration and apathy as he spent more time around the dead (and undead). This mental deterioration was exacerbated when a presumed dead corpse came to life in his lab and attacked him, causing him blindness in his right eye. He’s somewhat afraid of being culled for his blindness, but knows that it’s not likely, due to his highblood status.

This is pretty good and comprehensive!

Due to his childhood where he didn’t have control over what his lusus did, he now wants to have control over everything in his life. This makes him a very controlling and manipulative person, bent on doing anything to get his way even if it means experimenting on his lowblooded friends. He doesn’t necessarily like hurting others and doesn’t mean to, Alternian society and his own visions of violence has just made him apathetic. This apathy as well as his low self-worth stemming from his neglect has made him have tons of unhealthy relationships, as well as has made him a perfectionist and narcissist. Despite his supposed belief that the end justifies the means and he’s going to make troll society better, he doubts himself and has an inferiority complex.

His mental deterioration has made him a very unstable troll to be around. He’s still a good troll at heart, however the odds are in disfavor due to his blood color causing him to look down on others lower on the hemospectrum and his own childhood. He does things mainly on impulse and suffers from strange hallucinations and visions of the future ever since he was blinded on his right eye. He’s learned to cope with them and they don’t necessarily harm him, but they do cause him significant distress.

He also has a lot of scars from laboratory incidents, and his neighbors hate him.

fjiodshfuo yeah if my neighbor kept making ungodly noises and murdering people with abandon I may also have a beef with them.

Review Goals: General Overview please! Strife Specibus:

Chemicalkind. He carries around various noxious chemicals to use as he pleases, but sometimes they irritate his eyes when he uses them. He can handle it almost all of the time though. He throws them in bottles and that’s how he fights.

I know I *just* suggested this for my most recent review but bottlekind fits here too because if he runs out of chemicals he can just break a bottle off on a nearby surface and stab someone with the broken glass it’s fun it’s easy it’s free.

Fetch Modus: I kind of took the idea from a mspa fetch modus entry, since I’m bad at coming up with fetch moduses. It’s unoriginal I know, but I genuinely couldn’t think of anything.

Periodic Table Modus.

It requires Sancti to remember his elements, as he needs to remember them for when he’s working and therefore it helps him but also inconveniences him as he can forget them.

This is how it works:

When an item is captchalogued, a quick calculation is checked to see the size of that item. If it is lower than 190x190, the size of the item is totalled and placed on a slot on the fetch modus that corresponds to the periodic table number.

For example, an item that is 4 in by 2 in would total to 6, and be in the position of Carbon on the table.

Sancti would then have to open the periodic table modus, which would open as an actual metaphysical table, and retrieve the item.

It is blank, with 118 spaces.

This fetch modus is a little confusing to me as well, and your poor math challenged troll likely also finds it difficult.

…but I think I have an idea that keeps with the spirit *and* the confusion while generating some good old Modus Shenanigans. What about an ORBITAL MODUS, with items filling in in each new category as an electron shell would? All items in the outermost shell would be immediately accessible, with deeply nested items remaining inaccessible until the outer shells were emptied.

Like this. Which is perfect for your chemist troll.

Blood Color: Ceruleanblood/Cobaltblood.

Lunar Sway: Derse, because he is dissatisfied with himself.

Derse and Prospit assignations don’t necessarily have to do with how one feelings about *themselves!* Karkat is Prospit and Nepeta is Derse, which reflects the fact that Karkat has accepted the hemospectrum as the way things have to be despite the horrors it inflicts on him, while Nepeta is extremely happy to be herself, but constantly snipes Equius for kowtowing to the hemospectrum. Even Equius is a Dersite, since he doesn’t agree with the hemospectrum so much as develop a really disturbing fixation over the following and subversion of it.

Given that your troll actively uses the hemospectrum to his advantage and delights in doing so, I’d argue he’s a Prospitan! Title: I’m unsure if I want to make them a sylph of light or a sylph of space, I’m actually not sure at all what they should be.

Between forensic pathology and genetics and chemistry and being attacked by a zombie and feeling he knows best he’s actually coming off VERY much as a Life player to me. Since you’re bouncing between two Sylph classpects I’m happy to keep that title as long as we acknowledge he’s not currently very good at it :P.

Symbol and Meaning: The symbol for purification by burning. He’s my first troll in the session I want to make. It kind of has the meaning of spiritual cleansing or purifying something that is not pure. In this case I think it relates to Sancti’s personal growth that will happen through the session, reflecting how he has to better himself through painful events.

If we go by the EZ, his sign would be Scorsci, Sign of the Fixer. Which is certainly what he sees himself as! I’ll see if I can play with the symbol you gave him and incorporate the Scorpio M into it.

Handle: gravesideAnopsia

Anopsia is a defect in the visual field or blindness, and graveside refers to how he got his blindness.

We definitely see trolls with retroactively foreshadowy trolltags, but I can’t think of a reason for him to have picked Anopsia before his blinding. What about gravesideConjunct, since he sees himself as the connective tissue between the dead and the living? Which can become retroactively ironic when his eye putrifies after it comes into contact with necrotic tissue, which is basically an extreme version of conjunctivitis.

Quirk: ~~( he types…. zzz….. taking… his time…. with words… and….types in caps when he…..wants to zzz…. ASSERT HIS POINT….)~~

Love this quirk he’s a sleeby boy.

He either keysmashes to laugh as “eoeoeoe” “sksksks” or simply laughs like “haha” or “hehe”. He also uses the following emoji :)-< and (－‸ლ)

Special Abilities: None, unless you count his visions of the future. But he wasn’t born with psychic abilities.

Idk that he even needs visions of the future tbh. Injury does not always confer abilities in troll society.

Lusus/Guardian: A 2-headed Titanoboa (think of a huuuuuge prehistoric Boa, even bigger than an Anaconda). He considers himself to have two dads as the two heads have separate brains. He calls them “my snake dads”. Him and his lusus have a better relationship now that his lusus is sedated, and he often cuddles with his lusus in between their two heads and feeds them the corpses after he’s done analyzing them. However, their relationship used to be negative and neglectful, as explained above.

Omg yes I love his dads.

Interests: Apart from the sciences listed on his theme, he also enjoys the arts and painting with blood of the corpses he studies, as well as making artistic murals outside to the annoyance of his neighbors. He likes cosmic horror books, doomsday devices and machinery, bodily modification, philosophers, and in his spare game he will play puzzle and roleplaying games (but not FLARPing, he’s bad at it). He thinks about hunting the undead sometimes, and likes horror movies, making friends regardless of their dead or alive status, scaring his neighbors, horror movies, and mindless antics.

Appearance: His hair is very straight, but it tends to get messy. Also the string on one of his horns is a string that got stuck on his horn and it’s hard to remove now.

usghiuserg good. I’m gonna see what I can do to his sprite to convey the “straight but messy” vibe more.

Personality:

He’s VERY creative, more than analytical, which is an oddity for a scientist, others may think of him as a “creative genius” but he rejects the title of being a mad scientist. He wants to be positively known. He also always tries to finish things and has a general curious personality. He’s always seeking knowledge, and often tires himself out from working too much on his experiments, which causes him to enter a cycle of all nighters vs heavy sleeping. He’s a very heavy sleeper, often taking naps throughout the day. He procrastinates on mundane tasks that don’t relate to his interests or experiments. However, he drinks a lot of caffeinated beverages when he needs to work in order to keep himself awake essentially starting an all nighter cycle.

Depending on the circumstances, he can be very friendly and charming, or quite the opposite. It all depends. He likes to crack morbid jokes that make nobody laugh, and is quite disorganized as well as silly. He cares for his moirail (wip) and matesprit (wip) the most, and even though he sometimes snaps at them, he never wants to lose them.

Land: Land of Dreams and Angels, but depending on the classpect you assign him I will change it.

*Hopes and Dreams plays in the background*

What if he’s Land of Regrowth and Thaw, with the grass being fed by the remains of former consorts and the rest slowly unfreezing from ice as his journey continues? Works with his work with dead bodies and also gives us the vegetation associated with Life.

I also have his introduction written out but idk if I should include it. Here it is:

Your name is SANCTI SERPUS and you’d rather be sleeping, or dead.

You love everything relating to THE SCIENCES, but you are not very good at MATH, or keeping organized. However, you are still considered a “CREATIVE GENIUS”. You love anything that STIMULATES YOUR GRUBBY BRAIN - such as PSYCHOLOGY, FORENSICS and TROLL BIOLOGY. You do many EXPERIMENTS, most of which involve using troll parts in jars, to create true ABOMINATIONS; and one which sadly took your right eye’s vision and has had you in fear of being CULLED. However, you reject the idea of being a “MAD SCIENTIST”.

In a weird fashion, you also highly enjoy THE ARTS, and paint the walls of your GINORMOUS HIVE and other places with objectively “pretty good” PICTURES made from the BLOOD of the corpses you work with, to the annoyance of your neighbors. You also have a slight interest in BODILY MODIFICATION, in an effort to withdraw attention from your accident, as well as an interest in COSMIC HORROR BOOKS, as any good scientist should have. Another interest of yours is VIDEO GAMES, especially ROLE PLAYING and PUZZLE games, and when you’re not working, you spend your time playing them. You’ve even attempted to CODE your own game, and FAILED. However, you are not a very good FLARPER.

Despite this, all your work leaves you tired, which means you are a HEAVY SLEEPER and tend to procrastinate even the most MUNDANE TASKS that are not related to your interests. On the days that you are energized from drinking CAFFEINATED BEVERAGES, you like to go outside at night and collect all sorts of RANDOM KNICK-KNACKS, which may include CORPSES and FOSSILS to analyze. This has attracted the attention of your neighbors and BEST FRIENDS, who call you an UNHINGED TOTAL MANIAC. You don’t understand why, until you take off your lab coat to reveal an alarming amount of new scars from LABORATORY INCIDENTS. You really are kind of an ODDBALL.

This is such a frickin MOOD. Let’s go to the redesign, though I don’t have much!

Horns - you said he got string tangled in his horns but those horns are shaped in a way that makes it pretty easy to untangle stuff! I gave him horns that are Klein-bottle inspired, though it’s obviously impossible for horns to actually grow into a Klein bottle shape. Now THAT’S a mess I wouldn’t wanna tangle with!

Hair - I absolutely ripped a fan-troll template to shreds and put it back together again for this hair, but I think this conveys “basically straight but mussed up” with a little more shape than the original.

Face - I adjusted the proportions and replaced the eyebrows with just the piercings because it was looking a little busy.

Shirt - Again it looked a little busy with the jacket with symbols on both flaps and the pendant in the middle, so I gave him a mad scientist jacket edited from John’s.

Symbol - I tried to find a happy medium between the radial symmetry of the original symbol and the Scorsci M with the arrows.

That’s pretty much it! Hope this helped!

-TR

#ceruleanblood #cobaltblood #submission #itoshiki #review #tr review #sancti #serpus #sancti serpus #apoteu #davdav #apoteu davdav #redesign

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zayndrivesmeinvain · 5 years

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The One Where He Comes to your College Graduation

The moment you’ve been waiting for, all the long sleepless nights and falling asleep in the library has paid off. You graduation day is finally here and you couldn’t be more proud of yourself, you’ve come a long way and getting two different degrees will really pay off. Since you’ve completed your internship last summer, they were highly impressed by your work ethic and drive to learn that they offered you a full time position for the fall.

You’re beyond excited but your nerves have gotten the best of you, both of your parents will be attending but they recently haven’t been on the best of terms, your younger siblings will also be attending and you somewhat feel responsible to create a sense of role model for them since you’ve done so well since both of your parents didn’t go to college and you are the first in the family. Your family never severely struggled, however there were bumps in the road and your parents had to work 2-3 jobs at times when you were younger to pay the bills and get food on your table.

You’ve been very fortunate to have the parents that you have because they have done so much for you, however you saw how they struggled with you and your siblings and you vowed that your children would never have to ever wonder if they’ll have a meal the next day, or ever let your children see you in such distress that you witnessed your parents.

You’ve just arrived at your graduation ceremony and you’re waiting impatiently in the back with the rest of the graduates. You palms begin to sweat and you just want to have your diploma in your hands by now. Big crowds make you nervous and waiting your turn does too. You’ve spotted a few of your friends as more people start to walk through and make their way in. They look just as impatient as you do, however happiness over runs those emotions. As you look away for a moment, a wave of white overcomes the room and the one big room feels so small.

They required us to wear some sort of white or light colored outfit and you’re thankful they did because the pressure of finding a dress these past few weeks had to be the last thing on your mind with finals and thesis’ due. Thankfully, you found a beautiful thigh length flowy dress online and paired it with some nude wedges. Since it’s your big day you decided to bump it up by curling your hair and doing some extra make-up to symbolize your special day.

“Y/N, Y/N.. are you even listening?” you come out from your own thoughts and look back at your friends.

“ I’m sorry, I uh- I uh- was just thinking.. What were you saying?” a nervous laugh escapes my lips and I pull my attention to my friends.

“ I was asking if Harry was coming? Isn’t he in London recording again?” If you’re being completely honest the thought of Harry coming to your graduation never really crossed your mind. You obviously mentioned it, however you knew he was busy and last time you talked to him last night, he was in fact in the studio. He was there with a few of his friends having a few drinks and sharing some laughs. The pressure of having an album ready hasn’t taken its toll on Harry yet since it’s still early but when the time does come, he was be completely focused.

“ Oh, I don’t know. It’s been really hard for him to come back and forth all the time, and he had some meetings to get through this week so I doubt it.” Sadness has overcome your conscious but you can’t show your friends how you’re actually feeling because this is supposed to be one of the most exciting days of your lives. Harry has always tried his best to come to the important events in your life but it’s always caused an issue because he gets recognized and an important and beautiful day that is supposed to be yours, is spent having him sign his autographs and taking pictures with fans. It’s never his fault but the two of you had agreed maybe your graduation wasn’t the best place for him to come, which is why you never minded: until now.

You’ve been sitting in the metal folding chair for the past hour and graduation has moved smoothly. Attending a State University has really taken the pressure off of yourself because in realization there are thousands of students graduating today. Many of these students you haven’t seen since Freshman English, Math or Science. Some of these people have really changed since freshman year and some of those you never thought would graduate but they did it.

You notice your phone vibrating and you pull it out from your dress pocket and it’s a sweet message from Harry.

“ Hey Bubs, good luck today! I’m so proud of you and all that you’ve accomplished. I can’t wait to celebrate when I see you. xxH”

Even though you’re understanding, Harry is truly one of the very few people if not the only person you cared for if they came. Even though your parents helped pay for the first few semesters Harry has been the only one to take an interest in what you’ve been going for. He’s taken the time to really get into it with you and has listened to all your hopes and dreams, the last year he’s helped you pay for school even though you made a deal with him to pay him back. However, him paying for your schooling has helped you save up some money and you’ve caught up with rent and has let you buy some new appliances for your apartment.

You’ve always prided yourself on being independent, especially when it came to college. No one helped you when it came to filling out the applications or taking the SAT’s or helped you study for your AP classes in high school. Because your parents were so busy you often took the bus to interviews and college fairs throughout the city. When Harry come into your life, he insisted on helping you financially as much you let him but he never overstepped his boundaries. You never wanted him to feel as though you were taking advantage of him or his money because he earned that himself and he wasn’t your personally piggy bank even though he offered to be.

Names were being called and after 20 minutes your rows turn was up and you were about to walk across the stage. The moment you’ve been anxious about, studied hard for, pulled all nighters and even cried many times for, is here.

You walk over and get in line and only a few people are in front of you, all your beloved teachers are standing up there and some that you have never met before.

“ Y/N,” you walk across the stage, shake a few hands, exchange a few hugs and stop to take a final picture. The moment flashed before your eyes before you knew it, and it’s all over now. Your college career has finally come to an end and you couldn’t be more overjoyed yet sad at the same time. You spent countless hours in this building for pep-rallies and parties and you won’t be coming back. The last 4 years of your life have flashed before your eyes, and what you would do to go back.

My family rushes over to me as I meet them outside where the rest of the students have met their families. My parents are getting along for the sake of the day, my siblings holding onto balloons and flowers for me. My younger siblings run into my arms and I take them into a tight embrace as they congratulate me.

“ It seems like yesterday you were running around in your diaper in our first apartment together. I always knew you would do amazing things Y/N, I just didn’t know they would come so soon.” My mom pulls me into a tight embrace as I can feel her tears falling onto my shoulder. My mom has always been a very strong person, especially growing up as a teen mom, and she rarely has ever cried in front of me.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of someone familiar. When realization kicks in, I instantly start running towards them and fall into their embrace.

“ You think I’d miss the most important day of your educational career, Bubs?” Harry really came all the way to the States to come visit me.

“ You seriously don’t know how much this means to me, Harry. Thank you.” A sweet quick peck was shared between us before the rest of my family joins us.

You ended up going back to your parents house after your graduation ceremony, where your parents made dinner and had a cake for you. You honestly preferred this over some lavish dinner, even though your family can be annoying and at times dramatic, you have stayed close knit together, and they take Harry’s job into consideration which leads to a lot of family gatherings.

One of your favorite parts of Harry is that he’s adjusted to your life so well, he knows that you don’t ask for much or even expect anything from him, he understands where you come from and how your family is. Your parents adore him and so do your siblings, it’s the perfect family picture with a lot of dark pasts.

The night is slowly coming to an end, dishes are being put away in the washer, napkins and tablecloths are being put away, drinks are shoved back into the freezer and cake is being wrapped up so you can take it back to your apartment.

You thank your parents once again, Harry and you make your way out the front door after many hugs and kisses and endless goodbyes and congradulations.

“ Are yeh ready to have a party of our own at home, Bub?” even in the dark you could see Harry’s eyebrows wiggling up and down, a swift smack to your ass followed by a gentle nudge to your arm.

#hary styles #Harry Styles #harry styles images #harry styles imagine #harry styles images #harry styles fanfics #fanficts #fanfiction #one direction #the one where he #blurbs #reading #love #graduation #college grad

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theymakemesoft · 5 years

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STRAY KIDS’ REACTION: THEY FIND OUT THEIR S/O IS A VAMPIRE

Chan:

You often came to the dorm. You were like the maknae line’s third parent. Whenever you knew you were about to see the guys you would make sure to fill up on animal blood, you didn’t want to suddenly attack them. You wanted to tell Chan, especially as things had gotten pretty serious between you, you just weren’t sure how. When you arrived at the dorm you found the guys playing around with a stethoscope that they had brought home from work. You were careful to not be too obvious with your aversion to it, you just kept distracting them every time they began to take interest in hearing your heartbeat. When everyone had gone to bed you and Chan would be left. He would plant the stethoscope piece on your chest before you could say anything. He would move it around trying to find your heartbeat as his eyes scrunched up in confusion. You would suddenly blurt out that he wouldn’t be able to find one, and then reveal the truth in one long run on sentence. He would freeze, but then smile nodding understandingly before sighing. He’d be kinda into it, he wouldn’t mind if you drank his blood, but like Woojin he’d want to know that you didn’t hurt people.

“Huh, no heartbeat... You are dead...”

Minho:

You would have been dating a long while. You had always avoided going to restaurants for date night, but sometimes it was inevitable. You would end up really sick, your stomach not used to regular food. You thought your boyfriend hadn’t noticed your aversion to food, but he had. Minho would be actually pretty worried about it, he would make sure to compliment you more often hoping that you weren’t feeling pressured to lose weight by anyone. He’d even talk to the other members about his worries. He’d even confront you about it, which made you try to suck it up and eat more often in front of him. Finally Minho had enough and he sat you down at a cafe to talk about his worries with you. When he had confronted you about it, you would bust out laughing. You loved food, just not the same kind of food, you craved blood - a lot of it, all the time. You would say just as much which would shock the senses straight out of him. He would hear you out, mostly because he was too scared to move. When you finished he would have come to a certain understanding of your situation and he wanted to find out more. He would be in shock for a few days and would ignore you, but eventually he’d remember that he cares about you. He would forget about it eventually and it would only really come up when necessary, he might even let you drink his blood once or twice.

“W-what? You drink blood?”

Changbin:

Changbin had always noticed how much you liked to count things. He thought it was funny, another one of your little quirks. Sometimes it was tiring, like when you would insist on counting the number of bricks on the wall before entering the building. Or when he brought you a bouquet of roses and you would spend a good five minutes calculating the number of petals in the whole bouquet. He’d even get you to tutor JeongIn in math for Chan’s sake. One day, you would both be in somewhat bad moods. You inevitably got into a fight when you insisted on counting each and every popcorn kernel that you were going to pop before your at-home movie night. He’d ask why you always had to count everything. You’d respond by telling him that you couldn’t help it, it was what happened when you became a vampire, it was instinct, nothing you could control. You would both be shocked by what you blurted out. You would react quickly though, not wanting him to run away. You would blurt out everything in a matter of seconds and assure him that you never have nor will you ever hurt anyone. He would take a few hours of just sitting there to wrap his mind around it all, but when he came to his senses he would immediately start teasing you and making jokes. It would make both of you feel better. He’d be another member who would go back to normal pretty quickly, it was easier for both of you to just move on about it.

“You must be trying really hard not to bite this handsome face.”

Hyunjin:

You were friends since high school, even after you graduated (for the twelfth time) you stayed friends and eventually things had developed romantically. He had always thought it weird how you always seemed to look about eighteen, you hadn’t changed at all, but he didn’t really either so he just let it slid. He had always found some of your habits weird, but he would accept them willingly - he cared about you, even the strange things you did sometimes. One day you had shown up at one of his concerts to surprise him and his cross necklace was a part of his outfit. You wouldn’t have noticed it as you went in for a hug, that is until you felt something burn into your collarbone. You would throw yourself off of him violently, looking down to find a little burn in the shape of a cross. You would both share a look as he had pieced together what happened. You would rush to explain yourself, but he would just turn away needing time to himself. He would be one of the members that would have the hardest time with this information. You would be left in worry for several days even weeks as he tried to figure out what to do from now on. Eventually though, he would come back and apologize for how he acted the way he did. He would be very curious about all of it after he had gotten over his shock.

“What have I gotten myself into?”

Jisung:

Not only you, but all of your roommates were vampires. You had been careful to avoid bringing your human boyfriend to the den. There were just too many clues that would lead to him finding out. The fridge was full of blood bags and raw meat. The blinds were meant to keep all sunlight out. Most damming of all were the coffins found in each person’s room. Jisung had gotten more and more curious though, especially since he began to crave more time alone with you, away from the dorm away from the teasing eyes of the other members. Eventually, when all of your roommates had gone on vacation, you had prepped the place enough that you felt okay bringing him in. The only thing you hadn’t moved were the coffins, all of the dirt in them it was just too messy. It would be fine, there’s no reason for him to go into your room. You had brought him in and you had both watched a movie on the couch. Eventually you brought out some blankets and a pillow for him to crash on the couch while you head to your room. You thought it would be fine, that’s why when the cover of your coffin was removed and you woke up to face your boyfriend you bust out laughing nervously, as did he. He assumed that it must be a prank, but when you began freaking out he would start to realize this was serious. You would have to probably sit him down by the coffin and reveal everything. He’d take it very well in front of you, but when he went home he would have a mini-existential crisis. He would never share his concerns about your vampirism to your face, but he knew he cared about you and he wanted to be with you.

“Haha, that’s funny...you can’t be serious.”

Felix:

The longer a vampire lives, the more the sun hurts them. You were quite old, really old even if you looked eighteen. You had always had a hard time dating because, for one thing dating wasn’t really a thing until fairly recently, and secondly you couldn’t go out during the day. That was one of the great things about Felix though, he was always busy during the day until late at night and then you guys could hang out. He appreciated the fact that he could text you at 3 in the morning wondering if you could go out for ice cream with him and you were always up for it. One day though, you had accidentally fallen asleep on the couch in your apartment with him beside you. Normally you slept terribly unless you were in your coffin but you had slept like a baby. Felix had even woken up before you and the blinds were open. You were right at the border of shadow and sunlight. Felix had noticed when you jumped at the speed of light to the far end of the room screaming at him to close the blinds. He would be freaked out until you calmed down enough to explain everything to him. He would be in shock, he’d find it amusing, but he’d also be kind of relieved to see you relieved. He wouldn’t really know how he felt, he’d probably take a few days to tell you if he was okay with it or not. He’d be very caring about it and though he may take some time to get around to it, he would eventually forget about it most of the time.

“I don’t know how to feel about that.”

Seungmin:

In Seungmin’s eyes you were the most beautiful girl in the world. When you would constantly avoid taking pictures with him or duck the minute he whipped out his phone he’d assume you were self-conscious. If only he knew that even if he did take a picture of you you wouldn’t appear. You had always been careful to avoid mirrors when you were around him, but he didn’t really care about that. He just wanted a picture of his girlfriend that he could look at while he was on tour. One day he’d hide behind your shower curtain and then surprise you by taking a picture of you. He would grin in victory before glancing down at his phone only to see nothing but your bathroom, he’d look up and realize there wasn’t a reflection in the mirror either. You’d rush to explain everything and he’d listen thoughtfully. He wouldn’t be in shock, he’d be more and more curious as you continued to explain. He’d want to be sure that you don’t hurt anyone, but once you assured him you could never hurt anyone he’d be quick to move on. A strong part of him would wish that he hadn’t found out, but he had and it wouldn’t change how he felt about you.

“Alright then, as long as you don’t kill people I guess...”

JeongIn:

You had been good friends at school and eventually with much urging from the members he had confessed to you and you started dating. A lot of the time you acted more like friends than a couple. One day when you were hanging out at the dorm you two were fooling around in the kitchen, you accidentally got a cut, but no worries it healed in less than a second. Problem was that your boyfriend had noticed this. His jaw had fell right away and he could barely let a sound out. You had to drag him to the bathroom and lock the door. He’d ask what you were, and when you answered his hands would hit his cheeks in surprise. He would just stay there listen to your freaked mutters. Secretly he thought it was cool, he thought it was something like a superhero. He was also a little scared the next time he spoke he’d mumble about how he couldn’t handle all of this. You two wouldn’t speak for a week until finally he decided that he cared about you and nothing would change that.

“I’m too young for this...”

_______________________________________________________________________

This was an old request I can’t remember who sent it in but here it is! I really hope you enjoy it! Keep requesting!

Coming up next:

GOT7′s reaction to their best friend fainting

_______________________________________________________________________

#stray kids #stray kids reactions #stray kids woojin #stray kids chris #stray kids chan #stray kids minho #stray kids changbin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids jisung #stray kids han #stray kids felix #stray kids seungmin #stray kids i.n #stray kids members #skz #skz reactions

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therealfluke · 4 years

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hello hello ! wld j like to say that if ur already following me and ur like “why” it is because. this is may. i j reserved from my rph so the alias it went under was lucky. which actually,, so fitting w this theme (goes by a name that means an unlikely coincidence, last name is associated with luck, etc.). in addition, if “lucky” by britney spears immediately got stuck in ur head... that was the ultimate goal. also listen,,,, u r not the only one who hates my url. and finally! i saved the old posts on here and j made them private for posterity (obviously) and also,, my sanity.

‹ OLIVER JACKSON-COHEN, HE/HIM, CIS MAN, BISEXUAL. › levi “fluke” fisher is the twenty-seven year old from salem, massachussets / new york city, new york. when a friend asked them what they thought of the manor they said, ❝ IT FEELS LIKE I’VE BEEN HERE BEFORE. ❞ they claim final destination is their favorite scary movie, and if they were to die in a horror film they would form an alliance with the murderer, then annoy the murderer into killing him by asking too many questions. their fears include rats, isolation and living the rest of his life without muse d, and they don’t know we know, but… in spite of a promise he made to his family, friends and self, he has a baggie of heroin on him at all times so he can prove to himself he’s strong (which is a lie – it’s really for a ‘just in case’ situation) . hope they enjoy their stay. ‹ MUSE C from OTHERSIDE penned by, LUCKY, 20, EST. ›

QUICK FACTS:

full name: levi “fluke” james fisher

hometown: salem, ma // moved to new york city, new york at twenty-two

date of birth: march 10, 1992*

*does not perfectly reflect the below Big Three Zodiac Chart™ because that’s so much math

zodiac big three: pisces sun, scorpio moon, pisces rising (he is!! so ruled by his emotions!!)

gender & pronouns: cis man & he/him

sexual orientation: bisexual

occupation: museum night guard ( fired ) / leech off of his older siblings

mbti: infp

enneagram: 4w5

the song i listen to on repeat while i write the intro: “stars” - nina simone ( cover )

BACKGROUND INFO:

triggers: death (under mysterious circumstances, but officially dubbed murder), night terrors / hallucinations?, drug abuse / addiction ( oxy, heroin ), accidental overdose, death by overdose

it began with josephine (“jo”), levi, charlotte (“lottie”), and christopher (“chris”) – in that order. or, perhaps, that reverse order – see: chris was the oldest.

they were all born to very kind and lovely parents. the majority of levi’s memories with his parents take place in a large house they were intending to flip. given its size and the price it would sell for, they spent more than their fair share of time in there. that being said, because their parents were often busy flipping and marketing the house, they all relied on each other for fun, even in spite of the sizable age difference between himself (and jo, who i have forgotten to mention is his “younger” twin) and christopher.

the longer they spent there, however, the more uneasy they grew. i mean, it was basically its own version of the manor – it was also guillermo del toro’s wet dream. levi could’ve sworn he’d had some run-ins with spooks, but no confirmation was ever, nor could ever be, offered. so the manor feels... very normal.

anyway, when levi was eight, his mother and father met an untimely demise. a break-in gone wrong while the kids were with their grandparents, they were told. at the time, levi... was eight and, therefore, had no doubts. now, however, he mulls over the many possibilities – it was a big house, the likelihood that they really could’ve been in that wrong of a place at that wrong of a time felt very unlikely. some form of suicide? something otherworldly? they seemed about as likely. he’s pretty sure lottie and chris know the truth, but...

after that, they were sent to live with their grandparents. while not particularly ideal, they recognized that it was far better than the foster care system. however, these recurring spooks didn’t just stop when he moved. his grandparents and older siblings blamed it on childhood night terrors, jo believed him.

as they continued into his teen years, they claimed it was sleep paralysis. he confided in jo, in secret, that they weren’t strictly at night. he knew very well that, if he shared that with his grandparents or older siblings, they would think he really needed help. maybe he did, he never truly learned.

when chris moved out to go to college, and when lottie followed just a few years after, levi found it was just jo and himself. their grandparents were beginning to go past old age and reach senility. they had bouts of forgetting.

levi chose not to go to college, but insisted jo, who’d always wanted to go, go without him. she went to new york city, he stayed behind with his grandparents in salem up until their death when he was twenty-two. it was early in his eyes, but for, say, his brother, it was pretty record-breaking.

when he was twenty-one, after the death of his grandparents, he left salem and all of its reminders of childhood terrors and lies. he found jo in new york and began living with her and working as a night guard at one of the many museums.

but a mere one (1) year later, jo, usually straight-edge, decided she would finally go to her first college party in celebration of being so close to graduating. yeehaw. levi was invited to go with her, but had been warned far too recently that, if he missed one more shift, he’d be fired.

on the topic of his night shifts, his terrors seemed to go away when he moved to new york. it seemed as though he’d left them all in salem, but there were definitely moments in a huge and empty museum that he could’ve sworn he’d seen something. anyway, back to the main point:

jo didn’t return until the next morning and, when she did, she expressed the excellency she had experienced the night before. she wasn’t afraid of telling him she’d tried drugs for the first time – no, that night, it’d just been weed. he’d tried weed in high school, trying to figure out if it would help with his terrors. for a hot second, it did... which is what led to his own demise.

(OK! so from here on out, i’ll be talking about the other muses in the subplot. i’m gonna do my best to leave their story and keep their drug of choice vague! anyway!)

jo began falling deeper into the drug world after meeting and beginning to date muse b and eventually fell into harder tingz™. she never tried to pressure fluke into trying anything, but he witnessed the reaction to it. between that and having looked up to his younger sister ( by, like, two minutes ) for nearly the entirety of his life, he decided to try whatever she did.

however, unlike her, he quickly escalated to heroin.

he started out smoking it... then snorting it... then began shooting it. he liked shooting it the best – not only because he reached the high quicker, but also because it required more of a ritual. as a fan of ritualistic behavior, the lead-up was almost as enjoyable as the high itself. unfortunately, it did leave him with many trackmarks and an even higher risk of reliance and overdose.

he didn’t go out to many parties after that. he preferred shooting in the company of the few, not the many. if his sister and friends did, that was their prerogative, but it was just... more peaceful...

suddenly, he didn’t ever think about the terrors or the lies or the shadows in the museum. he was eventually fired, yes, and had to start ‘earning’ money via asking his other siblings.

when the topic came up between himself and his little group of friends on whether or not they should quit, he had no answer.

in 2018, at twenty-six, his usual dealer had cut him off due to the money he was no longer good for. finding a much cheaper one, he took the same dose, but the amount of other chemicals it was cut with sent him to the hospital. given plenty of naloxone, he came out of it alive and clean and, due to the nature of it all, was deemed a fluke.

he didn’t take to that at first. he was lucky, yes, but a fluke ? it couldn’t have been that unlikely... especially when he fell back into it after finding another dealer and being totally fine. however, when he heard jo had overdosed and actually died ?

yes, he was a fluke.

he was so blinded with rage at muse a at first for leading his absolute crutch to her death, he was so blinded with rage at muse b for first introducing her to a world of harder drugs, he was so blinded with rage at himself for being the one who survived when she was the one who actually could’ve done something with her life.

so he embraced the word ‘fluke’ – he acknowledged that he was one during her eulogy, he told his other siblings he’d been the fluke at her wake. when he began saying it enough times, it caught on, whether he meant for it to or not.

he’s no longer so angry at muse a and muse b for what they did. muse b wanted to get sober, after all, and muse a , much like himself, was simply an addict. they couldn’t help not being prepared to give it up. he’s still furious at himself.

now that they've all gone clean, however, fluke is somewhat more pleased. he’s fairly certain he’ll never not be in mourning. quite frankly, he’s fairly certain he’ll eventually relapse. even worse, in spite of the group promise, he’s brought contraband with him to “prove his strength” ( see: that’s what he tells himself ).

riffing off of that, in the manor, his terrors have begun returning and he’s unable to nail if it’s because of the similarities between it and the home he remembers so well or if it’s because he’s now sober of it it’s because... it’s just the manor itself.

he’s still certain it’s all real.

TL;DR:

basically lived in a replica of the manor when he was a kid with his loving parents and three other siblings. is pretty sure he saw some paranormal stuff goin on. parents were “murdered” but he suspects something else. moved in with grandparents and continued seeing some paranormal stuff. only his twin sister, muse d (jo), believed that it wasn’t just night terrors. jo went to college, he stayed behind. grandparents died rip. he went to nyc where jo was and eventually met muse a and muse b when they all fell into hard drug use. almost died because of poorly cut heroin. jo died some months later. hates himself. rip. alexa, play “my heart will go on” but the recorder version.

PERSONALITY INFO:

sad boi energy

if u read thru this and didn’t think “why does she keep basing her characters off of characters from thohh” then,,, u should go watch thohh bc,,, it’s so obvious (we even over here picturing victoria pedretti as jo unless someone applies for her at some point afhsljk) hlfajdsa

has a terrible tendency to find someone to feed off of – someone to be codependent off of. without jo, he’s floundering.

is very * eyes emoji * at,,, many things. the explanation for his parents’ death? * eyes emoji * the spooks that almost everyone came up with excuses for? * eyes emoji * staying sober? * eyes emoji *

didn’t mean to start going by fluke, but started using the word to describe himself so much, it just happened organically.

i have stated before. that im bad at these sections. so feel free to j consult the zodiac / mbti / enneagram above haofuwdlijk

not rly personality but lil hc is that he goes back to that huge victorian house all the time and uses a ouija board to see if he can contact ANYONE :\ the ultimate eeyore :\

another lil hc is that he’s actually a v talented pianist. his mother sort of taught him the basics and he went on to learn classical through sheet music and schooling, then songs from rock bands/artists who incorporated keys in their music. brought the 7-octave keyboard his grandparents bought him... apparently doesn’t need it because there’s a huge piano hajfdkls

if u want 2 hear abt some of my paranormal hcs lmk i wld put them here but?? some r actually creepy (and/or involve blood) which we luv for me!!

FEARS:

rats: when he was living in that big house™, there were plenty of rat infestations. he often got those mixed up with his spooks™. there were also a lot of rats at his grandparents’ house and at his and jo’s apartment. it’s more of a general fear, but. (also... rat poison? drug abuse? symbolism.)

isolation: for an introvert, he’s really bad at being alone. for one things, he gets lonely which is very detrimental to his already fragile mental state, especially considering he’s pretty sure he’ll relapse. in addition, he’s much worse at dealing with any spooks™ that come his way when he’s completely alone. when someone else is in the room, even if he isn’t actively talking to them, at least there’s the comfort of not being alone in it all.

living the rest of his life without muse d: even if she was the one who began their drug journey, she was the only person who ever believed anything fluke said – she was the only person he ever felt actually listened to him and cared about him with no ‘if’ or ‘but’ attached. he also always found her much wiser than himself and could’ve sworn she would’ve gone to rehab after getting well with muse a one last time. she was the one who was going somewhere and she was the one who loved him unconditionally. no wonder he’s got sad boi energy :\

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

his other brother and sister! i’ll probs send in wcs for them to the main, but if you think they wld sound cool, lmk. luv that. (update!! take one of them you cowards.)

the dealer who actually dealt him quality heroin

the dealer who dealt him heroin cut with god-knows-what

someone he accidentally starts to sink with himself

exes

fwb

ons

enemies (not super great at making them, but is still able to)

the new person he’s decided to latch onto

childhood friends (if there are other salem (or at least massachussetts) characters!)

idk!! we can also look at urs and/or brainstorm!!

ok ! like this or hmu if you’d like to plot !

#manor.talk #(there's a tl;dr btw ahlfsj)

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studiash · 5 years

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Or How to Survive School with Learning Difficulties

I recently got officially diagnosed with a significant specific learning difficulty (SpLD) in the area of mathematics or Dyscalculia after years of struggling with the most basic parts of mathematics, and I felt this was a suitable topic for a studyblr post.

My numeracy and maths fluency (addition) on the WIAT III both were in the 2nd percentile (Meaning I scored lower than 98% of people), and the highest percentile on any of the maths subtests was my problem solving, coming in at the 18th percentile, which is still disastrously low

And yet despite of all this, I’m currently in IB Higher Level maths, and actually doing somewhat alright, and I had to be pretty good at maths in school throughout the years in order to allow this to fly under the radar for so long, so how did I do it?

Showing. Every. Single. Step. Of. Your. Work.

I know for a lot of people it seems like just a waste of time to show everything you do, especially if it’s something supposedly as simple as “2-1″ when you could just write “1″ right away, but if you’re like me... it’s not as simple as that and as it gets to more and more complex “basic” bits your likelihood of messing it up is higher.

I can’t speak for any other curriculum but in the IB the majority of your marks in maths come not from the answer itself but the working, even if your answer is completely wrong if you’ve shown every step of your work you will get the majority of the marks, but sometimes they will only award the marks if they see where you went wrong, and if it’s not clear why you might’ve messed up you could lose a mark.

Proofread, proofread, go over your work, proofread

Whether it’s an essay, a lab report, or an exam, always proofread and check everything over again n again. You can never be too safe.

Your calculator is your best friend

You know all those memes that have a picture of a calculator with 1+1=2 and a caption like “just to be sure”, yea that’s been my entire life. The majority of my maths tests in IBMYP were with a calculator, and that’s a huge part of how I managed to actually be one of the star students, it wasn’t until the last year or so of MYP and then this past year of DP that I started struggling because things became non-calculator, and that’s how my dyscalculia finally got picked up on, and I’ve got accommodations now (which I will go over in the next section) that will help with that.

But when it comes to calculator exams like DP paper twos, you get your graphing calculator, and even for people who are great at mental maths, your calculator should still be your best friend because it saves so much time, and if your calculator can do something for you, don’t waste the time doing it by hand.

You need to graph a function? Put it in the calculator and use that as a reference. You need to solve an equation? Graph it. You’ve got an integral or some other long calculation needs doing? Don’t bother to simplify it heaps to do it on paper, just type it in.

Your graphing calculator saves you time and provided you type everything in properly your answer will be difficult to get wrong, just make sure you show some sort of “working” on your paper. If you graphed something to solve it, do a quick sketch with basic labels to how you got your answer paired with “GDC” written somewhere in the corner. Whatever you type into your calculator, make sure that’s written somewhere on your paper (and whatever steps you had to take to get to that point).

Access Arrangements (Accommodations)

If you have a diagnosed learning difficult or any other condition that may affect your performance (This includes stuff like ADHD and Autism and even most mental illnesses), you may be entitled to inclusive assessment arrangements, different schools will have different processes for different things but most school/exam boards, from the IBO to APs and the US college board, to AQA and Edexcel and all other GCSE/A Level exam boards have systems in place for inclusive assessment arrangements.

Whilst schools are supposed to have processes themselves in place so that you don’t have to be the one looking at all this, sometimes you have to be the one to self advocate. Remember that these arrangements exist for people who need them, not just because you want an extra advantage, do not abuse them if you don’t need them. If you’re doing IB your school’s IB coordinator is the one who has to submit the applications for any arrangements requiring authorisation, most schools will also have a dedicated special education or learning diversity team for these processes, approach any people involved about these arrangements if you believe you do need them.

I don’t know much about other systems but it should be fairly easy to locate information online (If you can’t, feel free to HMU and I might be able to help you with my googling prowess) but click here for IBO’s document detailing the possible arrangements and requirements to receive those arrangements

The most common arrangements that people get however are:

Separate exam venue, you don’t actually need authorisation from your exam board in order to receive this, your school may require certain things like a diagnosis or evidence that you would be better suited for it than others to consider it but ultimately this is usually one of the easiest accommodations to get. Additionally, or by itself, if you have difficulties with noise/your surroundings, even if you’re in the main exam venue you should be able to wear noise reduction earmuffs (they mustn’t have any sort of audio capability or electronic function, think construction earmuffs) and/or have mini “walls” placed around you on your desk to block external viewing.

Rest periods, similar to separate exam venues you don’t typically need authorisation for this either, in fact all students (at least in the IB) are technically entitled to a certain amount of break time per hour (for the IB it’s ten minutes per hour), your school may already provide all students with this option or it may reserve it only for people who’ve asked in advance, if you feel you’d need it, ask about it. It’s also possible to apply for additional rest period time if you need it but that does require some form of diagnosis or doctor’s note giving proper reasoning why and depends on exam board/school/why you want/need it.

Extra time, now this you need authorisation for pretty much no matter how much it is BUT the requirements are fairly lenient, with the IB as well as most other boards (I believe) you can easily get 10-25% extra time for the majority of conditions provided it can be shown you need it, so even if you only have a diagnosis of depression, if it’s shown that your depression interferes with your speed or quality of work you can very easily get 10% extra time and possibly even 25%. Once you’re looking at higher percentages like 50% or 100%+ it gets increasingly more difficult to qualify, 100%+ is incredibly rare and 50% is somewhat rare, but the process is similar. Either way: Talk to your school about it

Modified papers (large text, braile, coloured paper), a reader, a scribe, or the option to use technology to type written responses. There are specific requirements for obtaining these arrangements, and they differ from board to board and school to school, typically you will know if you require this sort of thing or not and it’s easiest to do your own research, and then get a doctor’s note or other medical certificate for these applications. Talk to your school about what you need for them to consider it.

And my personal favourite: four function calculator. This is possibly one of the hardest accommodations to get and you need to have a certain standard score on a mathematical related psych test (IB wants below 90 on a test of mathematical fluency), which means you need to get properly evaluated by an edpsych to even have a chance at receiving it.

And last but not least:

Do not be afraid to ask for help if you need it

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angelicassbut · 5 years

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To the Wolves (Part 1)

Supernatural and Teen Wolf crossover

Summary: You are Sam and Dean’s half sister. You met them after your mother was killed by a demon and never had a close relationship with your dad John Winchester. Your brothers have been taking care of you since you were 8 and did everything they could to give you a normal life and make you go to school, but you always wanted to hunt with them. You came to a compromise: you are allowed to hunt as long as you keep going to school and get decent grades. You and your brothers find a case in a town called Beacon Hills…

Warnings: None

Word count: 1612

Intro

“Y/N get your lazy ass out of bed before I make you.” you heard Dean sigh next to your bed.

You’ve been pretending to not hear your alarm for 5 minutes.

“Y/N, last warning...”

“Okay! Okay let me just get used to the light jeez!” you put your hands up in surrender.

The last time Dean got you out of bed you ended up in a bathtub filled with cold water. He didn’t just throw cold water in your face, he threw you in it. You didn’t want that to happen ever again.

“C’mon sleepy head go get ready for school.”

“Why do you have to be so bossy? It’s only morning Dean.”

“Y/N...”

“Fine.” you groaned and walked to the bathroom.

You got dressed with your signature flannel and tried to make yourself look presentable for your first day. You liked to say that you didn’t give a crap about your appearence but no matter how many times you did, changing schools was always stressful, even if you knew that you would never see these people again after a few weeks. You were a hunter but in the back of your mind, sometimes you just wanted to fit in.

You left the motel with your brothers and they drove you to school. The closer you got, the more stressed you started to feel.

“You okay kiddo?” Sam asked looking at you through the rear-view mirror.

“Yeah, just a little stressed, the usual don’t worry.”

“It’ll be fine Y/N. It’s just for a few weeks, you’ll do great, just like every other time.” he said reassuringly and you nodded.

You arrived at school and Dean stopped the car and turned around to face you.

“We’ll pick you up after class. Try to find that Stilinski kid and his friends, I bet they know a lot more than what is said in the files.”

“No problem.” you smiled and opened the door to leave.

“Hey Y/N,” Dean called before you closed it “Be careful and call if you need anything. And don’t forget to w...”

“Wooork! I know, I’m still at school. Don’t worry grandpa.” you answered finally closing the door.

You walked into the school and you walked around the hallways, searching for the principal’s office. You knocked on the door when you found it and a woman opened it.

“You must be Y/N.” she smiled at me “Come in.”

We sat at her office and she took papers out of her desk.

“So here is your schedule, and your teachers will give you the lessons you missed. How are you feeling? It must be hard to change schools in the middle of the year.” she gave me a sympathetic look that made me cringe but I just smiled.

“No, it’s fine. I’m kind of used to it, it doesn’t bother me. So uh what class am I supposed to be in.” you asked before things got the chance to become more awkward.

“Of course, you have maths. I’ll bring you to the classroom, since it’s your first day.” she smiled and you got up.

You walked to the class and she knocked on the door and opened it. The teacher stopped talking and everyone stared at you which made you really uncomfortable.

“Good morning, sorry to interrupt the lesson. This is Y/N Bonham, a new student. I hope that you will all welcome her very nicely.”

You stood there and smiled awkwardly thinking about how your big brother had chosen another Led Zeppelin member’s name as an alias. It was really starting to get old.

“You can sit over there, next to Lydia, there’s a free seat.” the teacher smiled at you as the principal was leaving.

The name caught your attention. It was one of the names on the list. You looked over to the desk and saw a girl with strawberry blonde hair who was smiling at you. She was the complete opposite of you: high heels, flower dress and makeup, while you were a flannel, combat boots and messy hair kind of girl. Maybe you were quick to judge but you sighed.

« How am I ever going to make friends with her? » you muttered between your teeth, nervously smiling back as you came to sit beside her.

In the end, it went pretty well. She actually helped you on an exercise because you really sucked at maths, she was really nice. When the class ended, you didn’t really know what to do and Lydia reached out to you before you could leave the room.

“Do you want to stay with me and my friends? It would be nice, especially since you’re new, you probably don’t know anyone here.” she smiled.

She seemed genuinely nice and you started to feel slightly guilty about the fact that you were manipulating her to collect informations on her and her friends but you accepted anyway. You had a job, and being a hunter isn’t charity work.

You met Malia, a girl who wasn’t on the list on your second period but who was a part of their group and she seemed way more wary when you first talked. When lunchtime came, you went to the cafeteria with Lydia and Malia, who seemed to always be keeping an eye on you and sat with them. There were other people sitting with you and they all greeted you nicely. There was a tan boy who looked pretty handsome and he was sitting next to an asian girl who was probably his girlfriend. Next to them was another boy, quite pale and lanky, with spiked hair. He looked cute if it wasn’t for the way he was looking at you. He was smiling, but you could see in his eyes that he was very suspicious. You could still feel that they were all somewhat distant and wary, but not as much as him. Even if he was hiding it, he looked more distrustful than Malia.

“I’m Scott.” the tan boy said.

“And I’m Kira.” the asian girl smiled.

You looked over to the other boy, even though you had an idea of who he might be. He introduced himself after hesitating a little bit.

“I’m Stiles.” he said.

Bingo! The sheriff’s son. You had found the right people on your first day in Beacon Hills. You started talking with them, not asking too many questions to not seem too curious and at some point, they started to ask you questions.

“So what makes you come to Beacon Hills?” Stiles asked after staying silent for a while “I mean, it’s not a really interesting town and isn’t it hard to change schools in the middle of the year?” you knew it wasn’t an innocent question but you decided to roll with it anyway.

“I’m used to it. I move a lot because of my brothers job.” you smiled at him.

“What do they do?” he continued as soon as you were done with your answer. He was really the sheriff’s son.

“They’re in the FBI.” now that got everyone’s attention.

They suddenly all looked more tense and you caught them glancing quickly at each other.

“What would the FBI doing in Beacon Hills?” Lydia chuckled, but you could sense nervousness in that laugh.

“Nothing much, mostly paperwork.” you could see them relax a bit but then you decided to try to mention the case to see how they would react “They also heard about some disappearances recently but they don’t know if it’s a case that needs the feds’ involvement yet.”

Gotcha. You thought seeing how bad they were hiding how tense they were again.

“And what about your parents?Do they move with your brothers too? What do they do for a living?” Lydia tried to change the subject and you let her. You had what you needed for today anyway, you knew that they were involved one way or another. You just needed to figure out how. You knew that your answer would make things even more awkward though.

“Well um... they’re dead.” you tried to say the most casually possible but the reaction stayed the same.

“Oh... I’m sorry I didn’t know I...” Lydia started babbling awkwardly.

“It’s fine.” you waved it off “My father passed away before I could meet him and my mom...” you felt your throat tighten. You thought it would be easier to say it with time but you were wrong “Uhh... car accident.” you finished trying to keep your voice from cracking.

They stayed silent and just stared at you worryingly.

“But I was 8, it was a long time ago.” you hurried to finish.

Images from that night flooded your brain, and you didn’t want them to see you vulnerable. They could be evil after all, you didn’t know how they were involved in the case.

“There is some stuff that I need to see with the principal, I’ll see you guys around.” you smiled as you got up “Thanks for letting me sit with you.” you left.

You couldn’t move on from your mother’s death, especially when you had to tell everyone that she died in a car accident. You could still smell the blood and hear her maniac laughs at night, you could see the knife piercing her stomach. It’s something you would never get over.

But at least, you had done your job today. You just needed to find out more about your new friends. Do your job, be with your brothers and protect each other, that’s all you needed now. You spent the rest of the day avoiding people, waiting for the end of the school day so Sam and Dean could pick you up.

Reblog if you want to be tagged in the next parts!

#supernatural #teen wolf #crossover #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #castiel #scott mcall #Allison argent #isaac lahey #stiles stilinski #malia tate #malia hale #lydia martin #theo raeken #supernatural imagine #teen wolf imagine #imagine

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growingstrongorsomething · 5 years

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1. A Letter to Future Aliens

Original Prompt:

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/b0pesi/wp_all_humans_on_earth_voted_to_assign_you_the/ “Now, we will turn to New York City, where United Nations assembly are reviewing letters and emails from the shortlisted candidates.”

My family are watching the news stream live from my computer. We lounged about in front of the computer, as it is placed on a coffee table. We aren’t very rich, but I managed to turn a small profit from blogs and Youtube channels. Truth be told, there are also a lot of professional writers, journalists, and philosophers sending their applications. Their names are listed on UN website, and my name is the 1065th.

“Thank you, Azizah. As you can see, the world leaders are busy reviewing the papers. I was told that eloquence of writing isn’t the only prerequisite to be selected. Prospective writers to this letter must also have active participation in aiding the hardcore poor and marginalised communities throughout the whole world.”

“The list will further be shortlisted to fifty best choices, and anyone throughout the whole world are free to vote for the best writer.”

My younger brother lies down on the tiled floor with a huff. “Mom, it’s boring. Why do I have to watch this?”

My mother lightly grabs his head and squeeze it a bit. “So that you know how the world works.”

The wait is filled with speculations by some experts thinking who could be the chosen fifty. Many names are from Africa, some from Europe, and a few from China. I think JK Rowling are also discussed, though I am more surprised that George R.R Martin aren’t included. He’s a sci-fi writer, he should at least be considered.

“The results are in, Azizah. We are now ready to broadcast the names chosen to be voted on by the Earth’s population.”

And the names are read aloud by UN Secretary General Antonio Guterres. He says many names I don’t know about, and a short list of their achievements, which I often see on Facebook or Instagram. The news is getting long, and my mother is already at the kitchen getting some fried banana fritters and black coffee to pass the time.

It took an hour before we turn our heads back to the stream. There has already been thirty names. “And for the thirty first name, we choose Januarius anak Idrus, a citizen of Malaysia. Born in Sabah, he has aided a lot in educating stateless children through the use of wireless connections and even funded internet availability for extremely rural areas.”

They took my bluff! It’s just my grandfather’s village. But my parents are esctatic, hugging me tightly and do I hear a sniffle?

The streaming continues, but my family are already too excited to bother.

“Start writing the letter, son. We will see Januarius name soar across the world!”

“We will help you all we can, but be quick, later people will beat you to it.”

I sleep soundly, too tired to take in the stress. My parents are laughing and loving each other throughout the night.

My younger brother wakes me up the next day. “Jan, jan, wake up!”

“What, why Felis?”

“Newspeople are coming! They want to interview you!”

The journalist is a petite woman. She sits in a single person sofa, comfortable in her seat. I on the other hand, is rummaging through my hair so it will look a bit more presentable.

The interview is embarassing. I barely have anything to say, haven’t researched anything, and worst of all, my face is sagging like rumpled carpet when they took my picture! By the way, what should I write anyway?

“Hello, my name is Maisarah. So, is your name is Januarius bin Idrus?”

“No, it’s Januarius anak Idrus.”

“I would like to ask a few questions. Firstly, how did you knew about the contest to write a letter to the aliens?”

“Well, me and my friends are browsing the internet when one of them, Saiful, shows me a Facebook post. It shows the contest, but I thought it’s a joke. So I write just a generic email and send it to them. World peace, economic equality, less pollution, all the good stuff. I also have to send some resume, so I hope I got at least a job out of it.”

“Will you send the same letter to the aliens, or will you rewrite a new letter?”

“I think I will have to. Apparently NASA does have correspondences with the aliens, but I have no idea what exactly they are offering.”

“Will you be consulting anyone to help with writing this letter?”

“Of course! I have no idea how to start this time. I don’t think I can answer you any more questions, since I haven’t prepared anything yet.”

“That’s alright. Will you let us interview you, next time?”

“Yes, yes please. Please give me a call first.” I wrote down my phone number and give it to her.

Now the problem of what to write is getting bigger in my head. Should I ask for world peace? End of poverty? Beginning of space travel? The silent whirr of my laptop fan might as well be a loud engine hum. Everyone is at work or school, and I am here staring at a blank Word document. Might as well call a friend.

“Hey, Hisham, can I go to your place?”

His place is a school. Not of brick and fresh paint and strong zinc roof. But of throwaway planks and board, lacking paint and old zinc roof with holes here and there. But the school is filled with children singing the alphabet song. Hisham is leading them, his smile shining bright from half a mile away.

I waited until his class is over. Hisham grabs me by the shoulder. “Hey, you have become fatter! How have you been?”

“Been healthier every day. Have you started building new school?”

Hisham leads me to a chair by a table. “We have just contacted a social advocacy group willing to help build one.”

We ate a few fried banana fritters as we chat. Hisham keeps spilling the beans. “Of course, we do have our own money, and have free volunteers too. You want to join?”

I would like to reject, but I haven’t been carpenting for weeks. “I will when I am free. If you are about to start, tell me.”

“Of course. But, what brings you here?”

I don’t know my face is obviously showing when asking for something. “Well, I have been chosen by the UN to write a letter to aliens, asking for help.”

Hisham pours more coffee to his cup. “You know our situation here in Sabah. You should speak about that.”

“But I am representing the Earth, not just Sabah.”

“There are many marginalised people. Stateless, minorities, hardcore poor, culturally oppressed, you name it. I do my little part. You expand it to the whole world.”

The visit is good, but I am not satisfied with the answer I get here. I walk back to my car when a kid is cupping his hands to me. I give her a ringgit. She shouted, and a horde of children suddenly appeared. At least, I still have enough money left for oil.

And now I am staring at the damn blank page. I try typing something. “Dear aliens ...”

No, too darling.

“To aliens of Planet Xenoniah I humbly...”

Eugh, grovelling.

“Greetings to leaders of Planet Xenoniah ...”

Isn’t that too formal? Am I supposed to be formal?

I am about to ram my head to the tabletop, but laptop is in my way. So I move it forward, then introduces head to desk. The pain is fogging my sight even more. Mentally, fortunately. My eyesight is still as clear as it always been without glasses.

Searching Google about child education is quite a chore. Half of it is about how to develop a child’s mind. Which is rather useless as my little brother taught me middle-school level math. Then I searched about education for stateless and hardcore poor in countries throughout the world.

Many groups are already working on it. One research even shows how older children can help younger children learn English with apps and videos. But there is something missing in all this.

I try to find what the children do or became after they’re adults. There seems to be some classes on entrepreneurship for adults, but they seem to not bring the children in.

The next day, my handphone falls on my head. It should only be a small nuisance, if not for the fact that my handphone is the brick phone Energizer recently launched.

“Hello?” I can feel the heft of my phone on my forehead and cheek.

“Yo, congrats on your short selection! Have you wrote something?”

“Is that Eric over there?” I look at my phone screen. “Of course you are. I have no idea really.”

“Have you tried writing about poverty?”

“Poverty’s too big an issue. Can you be more specific?”

“You know microloans? Try to ask for that.”

“You want me to write a letter so they lend us a hundred dollars?”

My phone erupts with laughter of many people from the other side. “Try that. For the lols.”

“Heh, lol.”

Eric talks some more about how the soup kitchen he is running isn’t actually lacking in potential food waste. But they lack cars or trucks to carry all the leftover food quickly before they become prime source for compost.

“So I should ask for faster than light travel?”

“Wormholes. Something like Doraemon’s As-You-Like Door.” Eric is referring to a door gadget which opens immediately to a new location.

“Well, I try to make it sound formal.”

My parents return home for lunch, as usual. My sister cooked them some chicken in soy sauce and onions. And the vegetables are sauteed cabbage. The smell is heavenly. And the lunch is somewhat calm.

My father breaks the silence. “Have you started writing?”

“Nah, I don’t know what to write.”

My mother swallows her rice. “Try writing for world peace.”

“Isn’t world peace up to us?”

My sister removes the chicken bones from the flesh. “Try asking for a lot of money to pay both sides to be at peace.”

“I don’t know, that makes us look very greedy.”

“You’re saying we aren’t?”

Well, now I have three ideas. Education for marginalised, wormholes, and money.

The next interview with the journalist comes a few days later.

Maisarah points the microphone a bit too close to me. I readjust myself to the back and she gives some distance. “Please tell us what your letter is about.”

“I want to ask for tools to build a type of school.”

“School?”

“Yes, it’s an odd school. Children went there to learn how to read, write, and count, the usual. But adults learn how to do crafts, such as carpentry, weaving, smithing. Some schools may even teach coding and business basics.”

“Don’t we have the same system here?”

“Well, the schools we have now are for the citizens of our countries. There is no infrastructure for the stateless of our countries. There are classes set up by social advocacy groups, but it’s for children and they don’t have enough funds to teach more people. There is no funds to buy tools and supplies to teach adults.”

“So, you want to ask for funding to build schools? Will it be any different from our system now?”

“Yes, for one thing, we receive outside funding, literally! Secondly, the schools are going to be borderless. Any stateless people or hardcore poor can join in from anywhere.”

“Anywhere, even from other countries?”

“Yes.”

“But, how will they travel to the schools?”

“For one thing, we know Planet Xenoniah can make wormholes. Set up some wormhole doors so people can travel from their villages to schools by literally walking a few hundred meters away.”

We don’t watch the final selection on TV, as we are invited cordially to Geneva to witness the event. At the end, the judges decide to compile three most popular letters to one. The end result is this:

“To our friend, the leader of Planet Xenoniah Coalition, Babluk Xinaphah Waristi,

We thank you for your offer of help, and we have prepared with our requests.

Firstly, we ask for wormhole technology, some funding and supplies, to build schools to teach our marginalised people skills and carfts to help them provide their communities with jobs and products.

Secondly, we would like to learn your knowledge on terraforming. We have chosen our first step to be the atmosphere of Venus, while we build Mars to be more Earthlike. Hopefully, we could expand the reach of our species and provide more resources for further advances.

Thirdly, we would like to visit your fine planet and host you. We would like to know how your culture functions and the history.

We thank you again for your aid, and may our alliance blossoms for as long as our civilisations exist.”

For my problem, I get a goodie bag with some Swiss chocolate and kopi luwak. And the letter will be sent by Chris Pratt, aboard a provided spaceship. Unfortunately, he’s just the one to give the letter at a mothership stationed near Jupiter, not the one actually piloting it. That is other people’s job.

I never think about the letter after that day. I am still rather jobless, helping around with social advocacy groups, and sometimes teaching at Hisham’s school. But one day, just as I am watering the plants, there is a sudden flash of light. Hisham steps out of the light, which have transformed to a gate.

“Hey, come! Class is about to begin!”

“You better start paying me.”

“How does RM 3 000 a month sound?”

Well, I have no excuse now. I grab my wallet, phone, and some books. “Let’s go.”

#short story #r/writingprompts

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alpha-imagines · 6 years

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8th Grade Valentine’s- Billy Hargrove

A/N: Aw this was such a cute idea thank you to whoever suggested it!! Another part of New Boy should be up tomorrow but i wanted to post this on Valentine’s day so here ya go! Hope you’re all having a fun day no matter what you’re doing!

Requested by Anonymous: so i saw that you wanted some ideas for billy, and i thought of something v-day related. so what i was thinking was like reader is the partys babysitter and dustin is "in love" w her and he asks her to be his valentine before billiam couldve asked her and hes lowkey pissed about it bc he cant spend time w his girl bc some fucking 8th grader asked her first???

The first time you properly met Billy Hargrove was at Joanna Cleeves’ Christmas party. Her parents were away and Carol had convinced her that she had to host a festive gathering which slowly turned into a house party for what felt like the entire school.

You and your best friend had arrived, got unequivocally drunk before you had encouragingly pushed her into the arms of Craig Lawson who she’d been crushing on for pretty much her entire life.

“Hey Angel” You heard from behind you and although your reflexes were pretty out of sync you slowly turned your head and saw that Billy Hargrove was leant against the counter behind you, red cup to his lips that partly masked his brimming smirk.

“Uh Hi” You mumbled, confused as to whether or not Billy Hargrove was actually talking to you or maybe someone behind you.

“You look to die for” He smirked and sent a wink your way, despite the alcohol that was spinning his brain he didn’t miss the blush that covered your cheeks.

“Thanks” You replied sceptically only for you to realise you were being pulled further away from Billy by someone who had a grip on your elbow

“Hey!” You exclaimed before your vision caught up with you “Oh hey Steve” You smiled pulling him into a drunken embrace

You didn’t really know Steve all that well, you shared a couple of classes with him but recently you saw more of him thanks to Dustin Henderson. When your parents separated your mom wanted to downsize, so you stayed with her and moved to a smaller house a few doors down from the Henderson’s.

It started out with the odd bit of housesitting when they were out of town for the weekend and gradually you started to babysit whenever Claudia went out and eventually you occasionally took Dustin to school or his friends. You got on really well with Dustin and got to know the other boys pretty well, and when Dustin started spending time with Steve it was inevitable that your paths would cross at some point.

You couldn’t really remember much of that night apart from sitting on the front lawn and drunkenly spilling secrets with Billy who’d followed you out there only to be snatched up and driven home by Steve who announced that you were “too drunk” and “too nice” to be alone with Billy Hargrove.

But that was the first time you’d spoken to Billy and the pair of you had hit it off after that. Winks in the corridor and at basketball game, him stopping by your locker before walking you to history so he could miss 5 minutes of maths. You two were friends but he flirted furiously and you didn’t mind it at all, much to Steve’s disapproval.

“Dustin said you were sitting for him tonight?” Steve asked as the pair of you walked away from the gymnasium after Hawkins High had thrashed the other team at a basketball game.

“Oh yeah” You remembered “I’m going for 6 if you had plans with him first”

“No, no plans” Steve said and scratched the back of his neck nervously “I just have a favour to ask you”

“Sure” You smiled as you approached his car and slid into the passenger seat.

“So are you like around on Valentine’s Day?” He asked, turning in his seat to face you

“What?” You stammered “Oh um Steve…”

“No no no” He quickly interjected, holding his hands up innocently “Not for me, but maybe for Dustin?”

It took you a moment to think, and you were about to respond with a somewhat hesitant “ok” when Steve interrupted you

“Don’t tell Dustin I told you this, because he’ll kill me” He laughed “But he kinda has this big crush on you and he didn’t want to go to the valentines dance alone and I figured..”

“Sure” You smiled reassuringly at Steve who then released a breath that he didn’t even realise he was holding.

You liked Dustin, he was a sweet kid, a little weird but he was always sweet. You didn’t mind giving up your valentines to help him out, but you had a feeling that perhaps Billy would.

“So what film do you wanna watch?” You asked Dustin, your legs stretched out on the sofa as you flicked absently through the channels

“Hey what’s up?” You asked when he didn’t respond, you scooted off the couch and sat next to him on the carpet, your back resting up against the sofa.

You knew something was up with him, his shoulders were slumped and he wasn’t rambling on about some physics theory or how to win at the arcade games.

“So are you going to the valentine’s dance?” You asked, bumping his shoulder with your own to prompt him to look at you

“No” He sighed “Lucas is taking Max so I don’t wanna be there”

“Ahh” You sighed sympathetically, he’d told you about how he liked Max and he also told you how she liked Lucas, it was no one’s fault but the boy was clearly still upset by it all

“Well I’ve got no plans either” You shrugged “Maybe we could do something?”

“What?” His head whipped round to look at you which only made you crack a smile

“Yeah I could take you out” You clarified “If you wanted?”

His vigorous nod told you all you needed to know, making the pair of you smile. He seemed happier after that, picking out a movie and chatting the whole way through it like he normally did, it made you smile to know you’d made him happier.

“Morning angel” You heard from behind your ear as a pair of arms snaked their way around your waist

“Billy” You laughed, trying to sound serious but ultimately failing “Not here”

“Why not?” He asked with a smirk “Afraid your good girl act might falter?”

“Not funny” You replied and turned around to give him a light smack on the chest “But I’ve got to get to chemistry so I’ll see you at break” You said and pulled away from him to start heading to your classroom

“You know where to find me” He smirked, his hand still entwined with yours but you let him go as the final bell rung and the corridors began to clear.

As you had said, you met him at his car at the start of lunch, he was leant against the driver’s side, clouds of smoke falling from his lips, his brows drawn into their usual frown from the sunlight as he watched you walk closer to him.

“So” He began as you got close enough to him for him to wrap his arms around you once more

“So” You repeated looking up at him and brushing the speck of dust off of his cheek

You and Billy weren’t officially dating but you’d be heartbroken if he was with anyone else the way he was with you and secretly you hoped he’d be the same if it were you.

“So I was thinking” He started

“Uh oh that could be dangerous” You smirked up at him which earnt you an unimpressed glare

“I was thinking maybe once Susan and my dad are back from whatever stupid adult thing their doing, and Max’s is at her lame dance, maybe we could do something, you know on Valentine’s Day”

Your heart swelled at what Billy was saying, initially he told you that he wasn’t about because he had to look after Max but now he was actually putting in an effort to show he cared, except you already had plans.

“I didn’t think we were doing anything?” You frowned up at him

“Well we are now” He smiled and brushed your hair back behind your ear

“Unless you don’t want to” He stammered after you stood there silently chewing the inside of your cheek

“No no I do want to” You clarified and forced a smile onto your face

“Then what’s the problem?” He asked, he was starting to sound angry and the last thing you wanted was for him to cause a scene

“Billy” You began only to be immediately cut off

“What? You seeing someone else now is that it?” He said pushing you lightly away from him to create some space

“Not like that” You tried to explain “I said I’d take Dustin out on Valentine’s Day”

“Dustin?” Billy spat “As in my little sister’s nerdy friend, 8th grader, ‘son of a bitch’ Dustin?”

“I didn’t want him to be alone on Valentine’s Billy” You pleaded, stepping an inch closer to him

“So you’re gonna ditch me for an 8th grader?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, hoping that you were joking with him

“Billy we can hang out afterwards ok” You tried to reason

“You’re actually going on a date with an 8th grader over me?”

“What difference does it make when you’re already acting like an 8th grader” You quipped back before turning on your heels and heading back towards the cafeteria

“Hey Handsome” You smiled as you spoke through your open car window as Dustin came towards you “So I thought maybe we could go catch a movie then go for food, how’s that sound?”

“Good” He smiled “Great”

“Good” You smiled back triumphantly and sent a quick wave to Mrs Henderson who was stood on the doorstep, cat in her arms, waving at the pair of you.

You’d finished the movie and surprisingly you’d only had to tell Dustin to shut up three times throughout the whole film which seemed like an achievement in itself.

The pair of you then walked a few blocks to go and grab something to eat, you shared a booth and both silently deliberated over the menu before an unenthusiastic waitress came to take your order.

“Hey angel” You heard and instantly you whipped your head around to see Billy stood by your booth and a bunch of flowers that looked a little worse for wears in his hand

“Billy?” You asked with raised eyebrows

“Well I couldn’t not give my girl a valentine’s present could I?” He smiled and motioned for you to slide along, which you did.

“Billy what are you doing here?” You whispered harshly

“I came to see my girl on Valentine’s” He smiled and placed the bouquet of flowers in your hand “Sorry they’re crappy it’s all they had”

“Thanks Billy” You smiled sincerely

“Sorry to steal your date kid” He said, leaning back in his seat “She’s just too hard to resist”

Although you failed at hiding the smirk on your lips you smacked him lightly on the shoulder

“Well if you’re going to gate crash at least go and get me some ketchup” You ordered and prodded him with your finger until he got up and did what you’d told him

“Sorry Dustin” You said with an apologetic smile

“Steve never said he was your boyfriend?” Dustin said confusedly just as the waitress brought over your fries and milkshakes

“He’s not really my boyfriend” You began “It’s complicated” You shrugged

“Steve says he’s a psycho” Dustin said somewhat hesitantly as he took a sip of his milkshake

“I can tell him to go” You said, ignoring his previous comment “I’ll tell him to go”

You slid out from your seat and walked over to where Billy was wrestling with the ketchup bottle

“Do you think maybe this is the best idea?” You asked as your hand rested on his back as he turned to look at you

“Whatta you mean?” He asked, his brows furrowing at your question

“Well you know” You began, averting your gaze from his broken expression “You tried to beat up his best friend, he’s kinda scared of you”

He swallowed hard at the realisation that you somehow knew what had happened before Christmas, and all of a sudden he felt guilty for ruining your date.

“I’m not going to hurt him” He said, his tone was confused as if you were suggesting that he might

“I know you wouldn’t” You smiled, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles “It’s just- I don’t know maybe three’s a crowd?” You cringed expecting some sort of angry response about you putting some kid before him but to your surprise he slowly nodded and placed the ketchup bottle back down on the side

“I promise I’ll make it up to you” You smiled and leant in for a quick kiss

“You better” He smirked once you’d parted lips “You better get her home safe Henderson!” He called out into the diner and Dustin’s eyes were suddenly wild with fear

You laughed and slapped his chest playfully, shaking your head at his comment

“Thank you Billy” You said, your hand pulling him back as he began to head for the exit “and Happy Valentine’s Day”

“Don’t have too much fun” He smiled but you could sense some serious in his tone, he hated the idea of you having fun with someone that wasn’t him, even if it was with an 8th grader

“Not without you” You smiled before letting his hand fall out of yours and watching him walk towards his blue Camaro.

“So how was your date?” He asked, his fingers combing through your hair as your head laid on his chest

“It was nice” You smiled “Thank you for not throwing a tantrum” You said, turning to put your chin on his chest to look at his face

“A tantrum?” He asked, propping himself up slightly “You tryna say I throw tantrums?”

“You know you do” You laughed and Billy couldn’t help but smile back at you

“Well maybe I’ve shown I could be boyfriend material” He said but it came out more like a question

“Maybe you have” You smiled and leant in for another kiss.

You had to admit it had turned out to be a pretty successful Valentine’s Day for all of you.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #billy x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove writing #billy hargrove fic #stranger thing billy #stranger thing writing #stranger things fic #dustin stranger things #dustin henderson #steve harrington #steve stranger things

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