#Nothin' But The Bles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emmyrosee · 1 year

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She’s been an absolute brat all day.

Atsumu can’t take it anymore, as cute as Hisako is in the flesh and bone, she’s one of the most stubborn little girls he’s ever met- granted, he’s only met like, three, but she’s on the top of that list.

He can’t blame her, she’s got Miya blood in her veins, but he’s never seen the effects this potent.

And today? She’s in a goddamned mood.

Atsumu puts her hair up, she takes it down because she doesn’t like it.

She doesn’t want to eat her breakfast because of how it’s arranged on the plate.

She didn’t want to brush her teeth because of how the toothbrush felt in her mouth.

Atsumu told her he’s going to leave without her, she said “that’s fine.”

She didn’t want to buckle her seatbelt, because the seatbelt made her skin itch.

(“No,” he snarls. “This is not a negotiation. You’re getting buckled.”

“But I don’t want to!” She pouts. “You n’ mommy nd’ uncle Samu tell me I don’t gotta do stuff I’m on-comfter-ble with!

“This is different and Miya Hisako, if you do not listen to me, so help me gods-“)

He’s at his limit.

How can she be so precious with her mother, her uncle, the other uncles who is on Atsumu’s team, her granny, literally everyone but him?

Menace.

It takes two hours to get Hisako ready and fed and in the car for school, Atsumu is sure he’s got grey hairs now, but he’s thankful to at least have her in the car. The ride is silent and tense, with Atsumu’s white knuckles gripping the wheel with the force of 1000 gods. In the mirror, he sees her little arms crossed, her lips in a little scowl, and she looks so much like him when he was a kid it’s hilarious- if he ever acted like this as a kid though, he needs to send his poor mother a muffin basket ASAP.

Finally, finally, they’re able to get to school without getting into another spat, and Atsumu sighs and parks his car, but before he gets out to let Hisako out, he turns in his seat with a soft smile.

“Listen, baby,” he says sweetly, trying to extend an olive branch to his damned six year old. “I… I want you to have a good day today, okay?” His tips his head when the pout etched on Hisako’s lips soften. “Do you wanna tell daddy what’s wrong? What I can do to help?”

Hisako sighs and fiddles with her tiny fingers. Atsumu nods softly in encouragement, ready for his babygirl to confide in her favorite person and reach a resolution that would help them both through the day, and-

“It’s you, daddy.”

Uh.

What.

“Excuse me!”

“It’s you!” She whines again, her legs kicking out in her seat for emphasis.

Atsumu is convinced he’s never been more offended in his life. He knows his little girl could be a tiny devil, she was her father’s spawn, but this?

Horrendous betrayal.

“What the heck did I do!”

“Other than breathin’, nothin’!” She grumbles, the scowl on her lip out once again. “You just get on my nerves sometimes!”

“You little-!” He unbuckles himself to fully turn in his seat. “You don’t even know what that means, okay?!”

“Uh-huh I do!” She crosses her tiny arms, “you get on uncle ‘samu’s nerves all t’ time! He tells me!! He goes ‘your dad’s real good at gettin’ on my nerves!’” She huffs, “and now I ‘gree!”

“That’s not-! That’s-! You’re-!” While Atsumu scrambles for words, Hisako is blinking at him with the most wide, angry eyes, and he growls deep in his throat when he can’t find the words to convey how salty he is. Scrambling, he escapes his way out of the car to open the door to his back seat, brows furrowed.

“I hope you have the day you deserve!” He snips, fingers diving in to tickle her sides and up to her neck, and he tries not to soften at the sound of her laughter. “I hope, that none of your markers work, and all of your crayons are broken, and all your letters are messed up!” Tiny hands shove at his, bouncing in her seat to try and fight him away.

“Daddy, no!” She squeals.

“I hope that all your papers get crinkled, and I hope the lunch uncle Osamu packed you doesn’t come with a note! I hope that your friends only want you to swing when you play jump rope, and I hope you get sand in your shoe in the sandbox, you little snot!”

With that, he retracts his hands and unbuckles her seat, still trying to keep an angry facade, despite the fact that seeing her smile is more than enough to break that feeling. Quickly, Atsumu unbuckles her seat and pulls her up and out of the car, passing her backpack to her with a tiny ruffle of her hair. “Get outta here.”

Atsumu cards his hair back and looks to the sky for whoever was listening for patience, but that silent prayer is interrupted by a gentle tug on his sweatpants.

“What?”

She flashes him her biggest set of puppy eyes, and Atsumu quirks a brow. “You didn’t give me a hug…” her fingers clasp in front of her innocently. “‘N I don’t like that. You still give mommy hugs when she mad at you.”

The vein in his forehead throbs but he chuckles at his little girl’s words, because sure, maybe she is right, the little shit. He bends down to scoop her into his big arms, squeezing her tight with a playful groan of effort while she curls her arms around his neck.

“I do hope you have a good day, princess,” he hums, kissing her temple. “Even if I made you mad this morning with my breathing.” Hisako giggles into his neck, and with another kiss to her head, he finally puts her down and sends her back off with her teacher, sighing at the little terror he calls his daughter.

He gets back in the car. He picks up his phone. Immediately, his fingers fly over the keyboard to dial his brothers number.

“It’s 7 in the morning, one of ya better be dying-“

“YOU TELL YOUR NIECE I GET ON YOUR NERVES?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, he hears his twin, his younger twin, the twin he should’ve eaten in the womb, chuckle.

“Yeah,” he says cooly, like this hasn’t been the lead cause of chaos for the first four hours of Atsumu’s day.

“Sometimes, you manage to piss me off with just breathin’, ‘tsumu.”

based on this tiktok hehehe

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f4y3w00d5 · 1 month

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Faye Fangirls About My Chemical Romance, Part 1 (Danger Days

Danger Days: True Lives Of the Fabulous Killjoys – Sorta pop punk ig, some more rocky songs

Excluding the ‘songs’ where its just talking

Okay so basically this is their most recent album, 2014, and it follows the Killjoys as they fight against BL.IND (Better Living Industries) who seek to ELIMINATE all individuality. (Spoiler: They die saving The Girl in the music video for SING)

Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na)

Upbeat!!! Dancing!!! Fast!!! You jump around screaming about doing crime and partying and sex!!! I love it!!! (you should listen to it after Look Alive Sunshine, which is the intro to the album and its just Dr D speaking, and at the start of Na Na Na, it goes ‘THE FUTURE IS BULLETPROOF! THE AFTERMATH IS SECONDARY!! TIME TO DO IT NOW AND DO IT LOUD! KILLJOYS, MAKE SOME NOISE!!!’)

Bulletproof Heart

Uh so this is sorta less fast and stuff but its SO cool and idk how to describe it but its sorta jaunty? First song I listened to by the band!!! (Fav part is ‘and tho, I know, how much you hate this. Are you gonna be the one to save us? From. The black. And hope-less feelin. Will you meet ‘em when the end comes reelin? Hold, your heart, into this darkness. Will it ever be the light to shine you out? Or fail. And leave you stranded? I aint gonna be the one left standin. You aint gonna be the one left standin, and we aint gonna be the ones left standin!!!’)

SING

Aaaaaaaaa this ones so cool, took a bit to grow on me, its mostly slow and repetitive but the BRIDGE ‘Cleaned up corporations PROGRESS! Dyin in the PROCESS! Children that can TALK ABOUT IT livin on the WEB-WAYS, people movin SIDEWAYS, sell it til your LAST DAYS, buy yourself the motivation GENERATION NOTHIN! Nothing but a DEAD SCENE! Product of a WHITE DREAM! I am not the SINGER THAT YOU WANTED BUT A DANCER! I REFUSE TO ANSWER! TALK ABOUT THE PAST SIR! WROTE IT FOR THE ONES WHO WANNA GET AWAY! ……. Keep runnin.’

Planetary (GO!)

Okay so like omg. I love this one. Everythings amazin. Starts off slightly slow, and then starts movin faster around the verses? AND THE VIBES!!! Ive got a few favs and ill save them here (I love the way theyre said too-) ‘Ladies and gentleman, truth is now acceptable! Fame! Is now injectable, PROCESS THE PROGRESS, This core is critical, faith is un-a-vail-a-ble, Lives, become incredible-‘ and also ‘Youre unbelievable, ah, so unbelievable, ah, you ruin everything, oh, you better GO HOME! Im unbelievable yeah, im undefeatable yeah, LETS RUIN EVERYTHIN, BLAST IT TO THE BACK ROW- they sell presentable, young! And so ingestible! Sterile and collectable! SAFE, and I cant STAND THAT! This is a letter, by word, is the beretta, the sound, of my vendetta against, the ones that PLANNED IT!’ So uhhhhhhhhh yeah lol

The Only Hope For Me Is You

Likeeeeeeeee holy SHIT this one just sorta- idkkkk- ‘Where? Where were you when, all of the embers fell? I still remember them… covered in ash. Covered in glass. Covered in all my friends, I still… think of the bombs they built- IF THERES A PLACEEE THAT I COULD BE, THEN ID BE ANOTHERR MEMORY, CAN I BE THE ONLY HOPE FOR YOU? BECAUSE YOURE THE ONLY HOPE FOR ME! AND IF WE CAN FIND WHERE WE BELONG, WE’ll Have To make It on our own!! Face all the painnn and takeee it on, because the only hope for me, is you alone…’ its one of the slower ones tho

Party Poison

This one starts in Japanese for some reason??? Its hard to explain… another fast and dancy type one ig, but sorta raw-er? Its sooooooo weird- not one of my favs but its semi popular

Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back

Okay so idk how to describe this really- sorta gives Only Hope type thing but faster and sorta rockier? Idk. My fav parts tho!!! ‘Get offfff the ledge, and drop the knife… Not a victim of a victims life! Because… this aint a room fullla suicides- WE’RE BELIEVERSS I BELIEVE TONIGHT-‘ OH AND ONE OF THE MORE POPULAR LINES PEOPLE KNOW ‘Ill tell you well how the story ends, where the good guys die and the bad guys win… (WHO CARES?)- THIS AINT ABOUT ALL THE FRIENDS YOU MADE, BUT THE GRAFFITII THEY WRITE ON YOUR GRAVE-‘ then the last two ‘Im the only friend that makes you cry! Youre a heart attack in black hair dye! So just save yourself, and Ill hold them back tonight….’ And ‘We can live forever if you’ve got the time- YOU MOTHERFUCKER (OHHHWHOAAAA) Youre the broken glass in the mornin light! Be a burnin’ star if it takes all night!’

S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W

OHOHOH APPARENTLY THIS ONE IS TO SOOTHE THE KIDS WHEN THE NUCLEAR BOMBS HIT AND GET THEM INTO THE SHELTER!!! (yes there are nuclear bombs, its post apocalyptic lmao) I love the bridge- ‘Love, love, love wont stop this bomb, bomb, love wont stop this bomb, bomb, love wont stop this… bomb……. Run, run, bunny, run. Run, run, bunny ruuuuuuuuuuun’ One of the slowest in the album also

Summertime

Okay so this is prolly my fav? Idk how to describe it tbh….. I know what it describes for me buuuut you don’t wanna hear me be weird about people……. Ill just tell you my fav parts (that I relate to!!!) ‘Terrified of what I’d be, as a kid from what Ive seen… Every single day when people try and put the pieces back together, just to smash them down… turn my headphones up real loud…. I don’t think I need them now…. Cos you stop the noise!!!’

DESTROYA

………………fucked up robot song where you scream and moan. What else is there to say? (the porn bots In the story worship a ‘god’ called Destroya who will supposedly come save them)

The Kids From Yesterday

I love this one too. Sorta slow ig. Nostalgic maybe? ‘Well now, this could be the last of all the rides we take…. So hold on tight and don’t look back……… we don’t care about the message or the rules they make…. Ill find you when the sun goes black…..’

Vampire Money

Dance!!! Sex!! Upbeat!!! Fast!!! ‘Three two one, we came to FUCK-‘ and my other fav line ‘and get your finger on the trigger tap the barrel of the gun! Hair back, motherfucker, jet black, SO COOL-‘

@mayhem-moth

#my chemical romance #faye fangirls

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nikogane · 1 month

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ruh roh some1s been exposed

exposed nothin god bles .

#nico ask

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biographydivider · 2 years

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“Is that something you want to talk about?”

Rottmnt😉

"So...is that something you want to talk about?"

Raph leaned his full weight against the closet door, making it creak. "D?"

A long moment of silence. Then; a single knock.

No.

"Okay, tha's fine. As long as I know you're in there, bud. If I gotta organise a search party I'd wanna do it before Dad gets home." He laughed; a single awkward bark.

The Comfy Closet had been something Donnie and Dad had put together after The Great Sudsy Meltdown when Donnie was five. It was stuffed full of bedsheets and pillows, old pyjamas worn to a buttery softness, once-loved plushies waiting for their moment to shine and fuzzy, cosy blankets. Usually, Donnie just took a armful to bed when he was feeling overstimulated. Tonight, apparently, he'd simply walked in and closed the door.

It had been Raph's fault. He'd missed the signals that Donnie was approaching Meltdown Status; the glassy eyes, the snappish responses to being prompted to tidy up the common room/work on survellience for the next patrol/drink some water once in a while, the gritted-teeth insistence that they all thought he was stupid, that he wasn't a dumb-dumb, you know, and why couldn't everyone just shut up for a second...

So Raph, being Raph, had reached out and spun him by the shoulder, insisting Donnie needed to tell him what was wrong. And that was when Donnie spat back; "Do not fucking touch me, Raphael."

"Oooooooooh," Mikey had sang, sticking his head into the garage at just the wrong moment. "Donnie cuuuurrrrsed, he gon' get in trooouuu...ble."

Seeing his brother's faces, he'd swiftly retreated. That had been two hours ago, and no-one had seen Donnie since.

"Look, D," Raph continued, picking nervously as the skin of his knuckles, "I don't think you're a dumb-dumb, alright? No-one does. I just...I just blunder on ahead sometimes, y'know? Barking orders and giving you guys a hard time for...for nothin'. Like, you guys aren't babies no more, are you?"

A single knock.

"An'...an' I've always done that, haven't I, D?"

Two knocks. Yes. Raph winced. He knew what Donnie was thinking about. He was thinking about it, too.

Raph had been six. Dad hadn't been good for a month or two. Distant, you know? So Raph had been Big Brother, Playmate and Authority Figure for a while, and the younger kids were starting to rebel. He'd managed to wrestle Mikey and Leo into the bath, but Donnie was being stubborn. He liked his stink, apparently. So Raph had picked him up bodily and dumped him in the tub. Donnie had slipped, and bashed his soft shell against the taps, hard. His head went under water and he'd inhaled a lungful of frothy bathwater; triggering the biggest meltdown ever seen by man, rat or turtle. Not long after, the Comfy Closet was born.

Raph's knuckle worked its way into his mouth, and he worried at the skin with his tooth. Something he only did when he was feeling nervous. Or guilty.

"Aw, D...I'm so sorry. I just...you'd think after all this time, I'd be able to read yous guys' signals better, huh? Some leader I am."

Dont cry. Don't cry don't cry don't cry don't--

A creak. Raph stilled. The feeling of a hand inching its way along the ridge of his shell, down to his shoulder.

Pat. Pat pat. Pat pat pat pat pat pat pat pat...

Raph snorted; his nose suddenly full of tears and snot. Donnie had had a lot of nonverbal spells as a tot, and it always made Raph fret. Especially after the Great Sudsy Meltdown. So his brother used to sit and drum merrily away on Raph's shell, or his leg, or the top of his head. It was his little way of saying hey, I can't talk right now, but that doesn't mean we're not speaking. I still love you.

Raph reached up, found the wrist that the hand was attached to.

Pat pat pat pat pat pat. Pat pat.

They did that for ten minutes or more, in silence. Then, Raph laughed.

"We're so dumb."

Two knocks.

"Well," Raph continued, "when you want it, the shower's free. You can have it as hot as you want, with the scrubby brush for your shell? It'd make you feel better. Then maybe we'll order takeout, play some video games...you still need to help me with my Creature Crossing island..."

The closet door bumped against his shell; once, twice. Then, Donnie emerged; shark plushie shoved under one arm, Pooh Bear blanket wrapped around his shoulders like the cloak of some disgruntled, pre-school wizard.

"'m keepin' the blankie," he muttered. "An' no-one's gonna say nothin' 'bout it. Capisce?"

"Okay, that's fair. You're a grown turtle, after all."

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt fic #rise donnie #rise leo #I've had Blanket Wizard Donnie in my head for a week now and this gave him an excuse to break free #thanks friend!

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mybakerstreetboys1 · 1 year

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*royalty free instrumental rap beat plays*

Whats up guys.. ive decided to get mah emotiunz out of me in ghe form of song..yuh......yuh, uhhuh,, ouh, yahuh,, Feeling awful in da club. Nervous breakdown in da club. Yuh . Uh. Dread in the culb. Uh. Yuh.Á̵̢̡̠̩̳̠͉͈̗̣̖̞̣̘̠̳̣̞̞̣͔̗̾̒́̈̏̽̆̎͌̈̈́̑̀̓̈̌̏̃̐̈̓̈̊̈́̐̄̀̄̉̎̃̏͂̈́͊͗̕̕̚͘̕̕͘͘͜͝͠͝A̸̢̡̧̡̢̛̛͙̝̲̙͉͍̬̘̩̤̫̟͈̫̗̥̺̳̮̖̭̯͙̝͕̮̥̺̦͍͕͔̘͎͉̩̙̾͗̑͗̃̈́̑̂̋̈́͆̄̈́̒̍̈́̿͂̀̎̎͗̓͑̐͗̌̔͑̄̈̽̅̚͘̕̚͘̕͜͜͠͝͝͠ͅͅĄ̵̥̟̩̳̱͔̳̳̟̪̤̤̮̠̗͕̀̔́͆̒͆̄̃̍̎̃̌͛̇͑͂̈̓̓̒̔͛̀͌͒̑̿͐͑͑͗̏̑̈́͊̀̉̍̊̋̔͐͘͜͜͠͝͝͠Ą̵̧̢̨̧̡̡̧̧͎̥̳̞̣̬̮̻͖̩̼͉̲̖̗͎̠̗̥͔̭͍̟̜͕͙͕̞͇̯͓̞̰͍̯͙̯̠̘͓̓̈̒͋̊̈́͋̔̎͛͊͗̓̽̅̓̿͊̚͜͝͠Ä̷̢̢̨͕̗̮̺̗͕̙̫͙̤͙͚͓̳̺̭̼͓̰̲͎͇̫͕̲͉̞̼͙̥͔̙͓́̀̒̈̍́̈́̽̄̔̽́̄́̔́̾̀͛̈̄̂̐͒͑̏̇̊̓̏̎̔̚͜͝͠͝͝͝ in da clubz.. Nothin g matters club. Á̵̢̡̠̩̳̠͉͈̗̣̖̞̣̘̠̳̣̞̞̣͔̗̾̒́̈̏̽̆̎͌̈̈́̑̀̓̈̌̏̃̐̈̓̈̊̈́̐̄̀̄̉̎̃̏͂̈́͊͗̕̕̚͘̕̕͘͘͜͝͠͝A̸̢̡̧̡̢̛̛͙̝̲̙͉͍̬̘̩̤̫̟͈̫̗̥̺̳̮̖̭̯͙̝͕̮̥̺̦͍͕͔̘͎͉̩̙̾͗̑͗̃̈́̑̂̋̈́͆̄̈́̒̍̈́̿͂̀̎̎͗̓͑̐͗̌̔͑̄̈̽̅̚͘̕̚͘̕͜͜͠͝͝͠ͅͅĄ̵̥̟̩̳̱͔̳̳̟̪̤̤̮̠̗͕̀̔́͆̒͆̄̃̍̎̃̌͛̇͑͂̈̓̓̒̔͛̀͌͒̑̿͐͑͑͗̏̑̈́͊̀̉̍̊̋̔͐͘͜͜͠͝͝͠Ą̵̧̢̨̧̡̡̧̧͎̥̳̞̣̬̮̻͖̩̼͉̲̖̗͎̠̗̥͔̭͍̟̜͕͙͕̞͇̯͓̞̰͍̯͙̯̠̘͓̓̈̒͋̊̈́͋̔̎͛͊͗̓̽̅̓̿͊̚͜͝͠Ä̷̢̢̨͕̗̮̺̗͕̙̫͙̤͙͚͓̳̺̭̼͓̰̲͎͇̫͕̲͉̞̼͙̥͔̙͓́̀̒̈̍́̈́̽̄̔̽́̄́̔́̾̀͛̈̄̂̐͒͑̏̇̊̓̏̎̔̚͜͝͠͝͝͝ indescribÁ̵̢̡̠̩̳̠͉͈̗̣̖̞̣̘̠̳̣̞̞̣͔̗̾̒́̈̏̽̆̎͌̈̈́̑̀̓̈̌̏̃̐̈̓̈̊̈́̐̄̀̄̉̎̃̏͂̈́͊͗̕̕̚͘̕̕͘͘͜͝͠͝A̸̢̡̧̡̢̛̛͙̝̲̙͉͍̬̘̩̤̫̟͈̫̗̥̺̳̮̖̭̯͙̝͕̮̥̺̦͍͕͔̘͎͉̩̙̾͗̑͗̃̈́̑̂̋̈́͆̄̈́̒̍̈́̿͂̀̎̎͗̓͑̐͗̌̔͑̄̈̽̅̚͘̕̚͘̕͜͜͠͝͝͠ͅͅĄ̵̥̟̩̳̱͔̳̳̟̪̤̤̮̠̗͕̀̔́͆̒͆̄̃̍̎̃̌͛̇͑͂̈̓̓̒̔͛̀͌͒̑̿͐͑͑͗̏̑̈́͊̀̉̍̊̋̔͐͘͜͜͠͝͝͠Ą̵̧̢̨̧̡̡̧̧͎̥̳̞̣̬̮̻͖̩̼͉̲̖̗͎̠̗̥͔̭͍̟̜͕͙͕̞͇̯͓̞̰͍̯͙̯̠̘͓̓̈̒͋̊̈́͋̔̎͛͊͗̓̽̅̓̿͊̚͜͝͠Ä̷̢̢̨͕̗̮̺̗͕̙̫͙̤͙͚͓̳̺̭̼͓̰̲͎͇̫͕̲͉̞̼͙̥͔̙͓́̀̒̈̍́̈́̽̄̔̽́̄́̔́̾̀͛̈̄̂̐͒͑̏̇̊̓̏̎̔̚͜͝͠͝͝͝ ble horrorz clurb. Á̵̢̡̠̩̳̠͉͈̗̣̖̞̣̘̠̳̣̞̞̣͔̗̾̒́̈̏̽̆̎͌̈̈́̑̀̓̈̌̏̃̐̈̓̈̊̈́̐̄̀̄̉̎̃̏͂̈́͊͗̕̕̚͘̕̕͘͘͜͝͠͝A̸̢̡̧̡̢̛̛͙̝̲̙͉͍̬̘̩̤̫̟͈̫̗̥̺̳̮̖̭̯͙̝͕̮̥̺̦͍͕͔̘͎͉̩̙̾͗̑͗̃̈́̑̂̋̈́͆̄̈́̒̍̈́̿͂̀̎̎͗̓͑̐͗̌̔͑̄̈̽̅̚͘̕̚͘̕͜͜͠͝͝͠ͅͅĄ̵̥̟̩̳̱͔̳̳̟̪̤̤̮̠̗͕̀̔́͆̒͆̄̃̍̎̃̌͛̇͑͂̈̓̓̒̔͛̀͌͒̑̿͐͑͑͗̏̑̈́͊̀̉̍̊̋̔͐͘͜͜͠͝͝͠Ą̵̧̢̨̧̡̡̧̧͎̥̳̞̣̬̮̻͖̩̼͉̲̖̗͎̠̗̥͔̭͍̟̜͕͙͕̞͇̯͓̞̰͍̯͙̯̠̘͓̓̈̒͋̊̈́͋̔̎͛͊͗̓̽̅̓̿͊̚͜͝͠Ä̷̢̢̨͕̗̮̺̗͕̙̫͙̤͙͚͓̳̺̭̼͓̰̲͎͇̫͕̲͉̞̼͙̥͔̙͓́̀̒̈̍́̈́̽̄̔̽́̄́̔́̾̀͛̈̄̂̐͒͑̏̇̊̓̏̎̔̚͜͝͠͝͝͝ clubÁ̵̢̡̠̩̳̠͉͈̗̣̖̞̣̘̠̳̣̞̞̣͔̗̾̒́̈̏̽̆̎͌̈̈́̑̀̓̈̌̏̃̐̈̓̈̊̈́̐̄̀̄̉̎̃̏͂̈́͊͗̕̕̚͘̕̕͘͘͜͝͠͝A̸̢̡̧̡̢̛̛͙̝̲̙͉͍̬̘̩̤̫̟͈̫̗̥̺̳̮̖̭̯͙̝͕̮̥̺̦͍͕͔̘͎͉̩̙̾͗̑͗̃̈́̑̂̋̈́͆̄̈́̒̍̈́̿͂̀̎̎͗̓͑̐͗̌̔͑̄̈̽̅̚͘̕̚͘̕͜͜͠͝͝͠ͅͅĄ̵̥̟̩̳̱͔̳̳̟̪̤̤̮̠̗͕̀̔́͆̒͆̄̃̍̎̃̌͛̇͑͂̈̓̓̒̔͛̀͌͒̑̿͐͑͑͗̏̑̈́͊̀̉̍̊̋̔͐͘͜͜͠͝͝͠Ą̵̧̢̨̧̡̡̧̧͎̥̳̞̣̬̮̻͖̩̼͉̲̖̗͎̠̗̥͔̭͍̟̜͕͙͕̞͇̯͓̞̰͍̯͙̯̠̘͓̓̈̒͋̊̈́͋̔̎͛͊͗̓̽̅̓̿͊̚͜͝͠Ä̷̢̢̨͕̗̮̺̗͕̙̫͙̤͙͚͓̳̺̭̼͓̰̲͎͇̫͕̲͉̞̼͙̥͔̙͓́̀̒̈̍́̈́̽̄̔̽́̄́̔́̾̀͛̈̄̂̐͒͑̏̇̊̓̏̎̔̚͜͝͠͝͝͝ zÁ̵̢̡̠̩̳̠͉͈̗̣̖̞̣̘̠̳̣̞̞̣͔̗̾̒́̈̏̽̆̎͌̈̈́̑̀̓̈̌̏̃̐̈̓̈̊̈́̐̄̀̄̉̎̃̏͂̈́͊͗̕̕̚͘̕̕͘͘͜͝͠͝A̸̢̡̧̡̢̛̛͙̝̲̙͉͍̬̘̩̤̫̟͈̫̗̥̺̳̮̖̭̯͙̝͕̮̥̺̦͍͕͔̘͎͉̩̙̾͗̑͗̃̈́̑̂̋̈́͆̄̈́̒̍̈́̿͂̀̎̎͗̓͑̐͗̌̔͑̄̈̽̅̚͘̕̚͘̕͜͜͠͝͝͠ͅͅĄ̵̥̟̩̳̱͔̳̳̟̪̤̤̮̠̗͕̀̔́͆̒͆̄̃̍̎̃̌͛̇͑͂̈̓̓̒̔͛̀͌͒̑̿͐͑͑͗̏̑̈́͊̀̉̍̊̋̔͐͘͜͜͠͝͝͠Ą̵̧̢̨̧̡̡̧̧͎̥̳̞̣̬̮̻͖̩̼͉̲̖̗͎̠̗̥͔̭͍̟̜͕͙͕̞͇̯͓̞̰͍̯͙̯̠̘͓̓̈̒͋̊̈́͋̔̎͛͊͗̓̽̅̓̿͊̚͜͝͠Ä̷̢̢̨͕̗̮̺̗͕̙̫͙̤͙͚͓̳̺̭̼͓̰̲͎͇̫͕̲͉̞̼͙̥͔̙͓́̀̒̈̍́̈́̽̄̔̽́̄́̔́̾̀͛̈̄̂̐͒͑̏̇̊̓̏̎̔̚͜͝͠͝͝͝ Á̵̢̡̠̩̳̠͉͈̗̣̖̞̣̘̠̳̣̞̞̣͔̗̾̒́̈̏̽̆̎͌̈̈́̑̀̓̈̌̏̃̐̈̓̈̊̈́̐̄̀̄̉̎̃̏͂̈́͊͗̕̕̚͘̕̕͘͘͜͝͠͝A̸̢̡̧̡̢̛̛͙̝̲̙͉͍̬̘̩̤̫̟͈̫̗̥̺̳̮̖̭̯͙̝͕̮̥̺̦͍͕͔̘͎͉̩̙̾͗̑͗̃̈́̑̂̋̈́͆̄̈́̒̍̈́̿͂̀̎̎͗̓͑̐͗̌̔͑̄̈̽̅̚͘̕̚͘̕͜͜͠͝͝͠ͅͅĄ̵̥̟̩̳̱͔̳̳̟̪̤̤̮̠̗͕̀̔́͆̒͆̄̃̍̎̃̌͛̇͑͂̈̓̓̒̔͛̀͌͒̑̿͐͑͑͗̏̑̈́͊̀̉̍̊̋̔͐͘͜͜͠͝͝͠Ą̵̧̢̨̧̡̡̧̧͎̥̳̞̣̬̮̻͖̩̼͉̲̖̗͎̠̗̥͔̭͍̟̜͕͙͕̞͇̯͓̞̰͍̯͙̯̠̘͓̓̈̒͋̊̈́͋̔̎͛͊͗̓̽̅̓̿͊̚͜͝͠Ä̷̢̢̨͕̗̮̺̗͕̙̫͙̤͙͚͓̳̺̭̼͓̰̲͎͇̫͕̲͉̞̼͙̥͔̙͓́̀̒̈̍́̈́̽̄̔̽́̄́̔́̾̀͛̈̄̂̐͒͑̏̇̊̓̏̎̔̚͜͝͠͝͝͝ Á̵̢̡̠̩̳̠͉͈̗̣̖̞̣̘̠̳̣̞̞̣͔̗̾̒́̈̏̽̆̎͌̈̈́̑̀̓̈̌̏̃̐̈̓̈̊̈́̐̄̀̄̉̎̃̏͂̈́͊͗̕̕̚͘̕̕͘͘͜͝͠͝A̸̢̡̧̡̢̛̛͙̝̲̙͉͍̬̘̩̤̫̟͈̫̗̥̺̳̮̖̭̯͙̝͕̮̥̺̦͍͕͔̘͎͉̩̙̾͗̑͗̃̈́̑̂̋̈́͆̄̈́̒̍̈́̿͂̀̎̎͗̓͑̐͗̌̔͑̄̈̽̅̚͘̕̚͘̕͜͜͠͝͝͠ͅͅĄ̵̥̟̩̳̱͔̳̳̟̪̤̤̮̠̗͕̀̔́͆̒͆̄̃̍̎̃̌͛̇͑͂̈̓̓̒̔͛̀͌͒̑̿͐͑͑͗̏̑̈́͊̀̉̍̊̋̔͐͘͜͜͠͝͝͠Ą̵̧̢̨̧̡̡̧̧͎̥̳̞̣̬̮̻͖̩̼͉̲̖̗͎̠̗̥͔̭͍̟̜͕͙͕̞͇̯͓̞̰͍̯͙̯̠̘͓̓̈̒͋̊̈́͋̔̎͛͊͗̓̽̅̓̿͊̚͜͝͠Ä̷̢̢̨͕̗̮̺̗͕̙̫͙̤͙͚͓̳̺̭̼͓̰̲͎͇̫͕̲͉̞̼͙̥͔̙͓́̀̒̈̍́̈́̽̄̔̽́̄́̔́̾̀͛̈̄̂̐͒͑̏̇̊̓̏̎̔̚͜͝͠͝͝͝

#me #vent

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overwijs · 3 years

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Dag 178 – “Call me, beep me”

Dit verhaal hoort bij mijn werkdag van donderdag 4 februari.

De dag des oordeels is aangebroken. Vanmiddag heb mijn leerlingen NaSk1 hun schoolexamen gemaakt en morgen is het de beurt aan mijn groep NaSk2-leerlingen. Toen ik ze in december overnam heb ik ze een paar beloftes gedaan. Ik zou voor rust zorgen, voor duidelijkheid, voor informatie, en dat soort dingen. In lijn met mijn persoonlijke doelstellingen: informatie per leerdoel, alle tijden mogelijkheid om uitleg opnieuw te bekijken en er voor ze zijn als dat nodig was.

Heel expliciet staat daar niet bij: een voldoende halen voor het schoolexamen. Niet mijn belofte aan hun, niet mijn persoonlijke doelstelling. Er is namelijk een probleem, meer dan je best kan je niet doen. Zij niet én ik niet. Dus ik kan me uit de naad werken, zij kunnen alles op alles zetten en dan nog kan het zo zijn dat we niet het gewenste doel van een voldoende bereiken. Dit heb ik dus ook niet als stip op de horizon gezet.

We hebben gewerkt aan de leerstof, aan het opdoen van succeservaringen, we hebben hele moeilijke opgaven gemaakt, we kregen soms een error in ons hoofd en soms lukte het. Soms zagen we het even niet meer zitten maar altijd gingen we er weer voor. En nu moesten ze het zelf doen.

Nadat ik uitgebreid gewerkt had aan mijn eerste doelstellingen, bleef er nog een belangrijke over. Er voor ze zijn als ze het nodig hebben. Dus beloofde ik ze plechtig dat ze mij op elk moment een chat mochten sturen als ze ergens vastliepen bij het voorbereiden op hun schoolexamen. Ik beantwoorde chats in het weekend, heb zelfs nog met een vader van een leerling gechat om ze verder op weg te helpen, ik gaf reactie op hun gemaakte werk als ze dat naar mij toestuurde, ik legde nog iets uit als ze ergens een vraag over hadden.

Mijn leerlingen vonden het wel gek, en dat snap ik ook wel. In de laatste week hadden ze mij, zoals verwacht, meer nodig dan in de periode daarvoor. Nu waren zij namelijk bezig met wat er komen kwam, zoals een goede puber: enkele dagen van te voren. Dus dat klopte wel. Daarom hadden ze deze week ook meer vragen over mijn bereikbaarheid: “kunnen we u echt altijd een bericht sturen en dan geeft u ook antwoord?”. Ik zag wie het vroeg en ken mijn pappenheimers. Zijn dag-nachtritme is anders dan die van een volwassene met een baan overdag. Een nachtdier. Mijn antwoord spitste ik daar ook op toe: “Tot elf uur ’s avonds beloof ik deze week sowieso een reactie.”. Hij leek gerustgesteld: “Oh dat is geen probleem, dan stuur ik u tijdens het leren gewoon een chat en als u dan weer wakker wordt kunt u hem beantwoorden voordat ik wakker word.”

Natuurlijk stuurde hij mij uiteindelijk niets, soms is het alleen de gedachte al die telt. Dat is in ieder geval voor veel van mijn leerlingen zo, het idee dat ik er voor ze ben gaf al steun. En de andere? Misschien hadden die uiteindelijk geen vragen of helemaal niet geleerd.

Er waren wel leerlingen die er gebruik van gemaakt hebben, ze hadden ook vanavond weer tot elf uur met vragen over het schoolexamen van morgen. Om kwart over negen kreeg ik een berichtje, die ik meteen vanaf de bank kon beantwoorden.

“Hai mevrouw, ik ben nu aan het leren. Staat de dichtheid van verschillende stoffen ook in de BINAS? Groetjes.”

- “Zeker weten!” En ik stuurde er nog een foto bij van de betreffende tabel in het boekje.

“Wow u reageert echt super snel! Dankuwel!”

Een kinderhand is gauw gevuld zeggen ze toch? En natuurlijk kunnen niet alle docenten dit doen en snap ik dat heel goed. Maar ik zit met mijn eindexamenleerlingen nou eenmaal in een bijzondere situatie, dus dat vraagt ook om bijzonder gedrag. Zolang ik dit kan doen voor, zal ik dat ook blijven doen. Want we weten allemaal dat het fijn is dat er iemand bereikbaar is voor welke vraag dan ook. Dan weet ik: ik heb er alles aan gedaan. Zij zijn aan zet.

Ooohh yeahh yeah

I'm your basic average girl

And I'm here to save the world

You can't stop me

Cause I'm Kim Pos-si-ble

There is nothin I can't do

When danger calls

Just know that I am on my way

It doesn't matter where or

When there's trouble

If ya just call my name

Kim Possible

Call me, beep me if ya

Wanna reach me

When ya wanna page me it's okay

I just can't wait until I hear

My cell phone ring

Doesn't matter if it's day or night

Everything's gonna be alright

Whenever you need me baby

Call me, beep me if ya

wanna reach me

Message clear, I am here

(Let me reassure you)

I’m never gonna leave you alone

(I am on my way)

You can always count on me

When it gets stuck I’ll help you see

I will help you find your way

(Help you find your way)

It doesn't matter where or

when there's trouble

If ya just call my name

…

Doesn't matter where

Doesn't matter when

I will be there for ya til the very end

Danger or trouble

I'm there on the double

You know that you always can call

Kim Possible

Yeaahh yeaah

Het liedje luisteren doe je hier: https://open.spotify.com/track/4gLJSncpK6VnvWLFNy7ejf?si=6HDJwtvqROm5fJMGemh72g

De hele afspeellijst van mijn blogs hier: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5EtxaLDydwfpnPsFrSS3Oh?si=Q38OEQ4aSDWoR42OH9Ef6A

#lvnslssn #docent #leerling #onderwijs #dialoog #gesprek #afbeelding #blog #chat #nachtdier #avond #nacht #bericht #antwoord

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humminghalo · 5 years

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did you touch the moving water?

I di d tou ch it with m y █████ !

It was a fu zzy , cool feel in g .

The s ea is so love ly to m e . . .

It is li ke a wil d love r , that wil l neve r be you rs and y et , you cann nev er le ave h er for long . You alw ays ret urn to he r , and she kn ows how deepl y you belo ng to her , y et nothin g she doe s is terri ble to you .

a ,.

aa a sorr y , I got a li ttle take n away ! : )

#text #text post #👁️#ask #answered #friend #sea #Netherlands #ameland #island #cryptid #cryptic #humminghalo #rain #meer

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caindiis · 5 years

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nothin against tutorials but u r all so annoying... god bles

#saying this bc #epic seven #and love live #most of it is self explanatory we dont need these PLEASE

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disneytva · 6 years

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youtube

Oh, yeah, hey-yeah. I'm your basic, average girl and I'm here to save the world. You can't stop me 'cause I'm Kim Pos-si-ble.

There is nothin' I can't do. And when danger calls just know that I am on my way. (know that I am on my way.) It doesn't matter where or when there's trouble if you just call my name: Kim Possible.

#Kim Possible #Kim Possible The Movie #Kim Possible Live Action #Disney Channel #Disney Channel Original Movies #Mark McCorkle #Bob Schooley

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derelict-ravnrose · 6 years

Text

To Press a Point

To draw a cityscape disappearing into the distance, an artist will start with a straight, vertical line; from the top and bottom each, two lines at equal angles away from each other. Drawing along those guides forces the eye to see things as they aren't - distant and tiny, despite being as flat as anything.

The corners of rooms are built with those exact same lines, and just like in an illustration, they force the viewer to look at things differently - simultaneously as they are, and aren't. Perception defines the world, holding it in place, and where perception falters, things can slip through unnoticed.

In the far corner of the taproom in the Honey-Tongued Fox, where the patrons look but don't watch, something - rather, someone - slips through unnoticed.

The shifting shadows there seemed to part like a thin veil, and a dark man stepped trough. Raven-haired, black blazer casually unbuttoned over a bare button up, and matching black slacks that hugged his thin frame with the air of professional attention. With a lazy smile and an easy swagger to his walk, he looked for all the world like a man freshly off the clock.

The quaintly imperfect music of a local group set the room gently asway to the story of man called "the Free Storm." It was an upbeat and exciting span of songs about a roguish, local folk hero. It was still in its infant stage of trial and error, but it showed promise in its growing popularity. He didn't much care for it, though.

The man scanned the room with white-less eyes the color of a new moon's midnight - pupil-less and inscrutable. He marked each person in attendance, keeping a mental ledger of the number, the appearance, and the demeanor of the room at large. This took only a few seconds, and soon, he was back on the prowl.

He wove through the lightly packed room as unobtrusively as a wisp of smoke, never so much as brushing the sleeve cuff of another as he passed.

There was a woman seated at the far end of the bar who had spaced herself three down from her nearest neighbor. She was handsome - square shoulders, wheat-colored hair, and a thin patina of soot on her arms and clothes that suggested a profession in manual labor. Her ale apparently held a good many stories to tell, as all her attention fell squarely on the half-finished drink. So much so that she didn't notice the darkly dressed man slip into the seat next to her until the woman behind the bar said: "Oh, hello, Mr. Derelict."

The woman beside Derelict nearly leapt out of her chair in surprise at his abrupt appearance. He affected a slight slouch in his posture, and propped an elbow on the counter so that he could rest his chin on his palm. From all seeming, he had been relaxing there for hours already.

Derelict donned a wry smile, white teeth sharp to a point threatening to show at the corner of his lips, but didn't yet acknowledge his skittish neighbor. "'ello, Arleen," he said, the cheer in his tone concealing a razor's edge, "'ow've you been?"

The barmaid returned the smile and drew out a pad of paper and a stub of a pencil, "About as well as one can hope! What'll you be having tonight?" She poised the pencil over the paper expectantly.

"Nothin' much, tonight, luv," he made a dismissive gesture toward the pencil and pad, "Just a dry martini for me - on the rocks, lemon, not lime - and then," he casually motions toward the woman beside him, "Whatever she's 'avin'." He finally tilted his head to turn his too-dark eyes on her, and gave her a small, encouraging smirk.

She stammered on the first few words a moment before collecting herself, and responded in a somewhat husky tone, "Another pint." She pitched the mug against her lips, downing it in a few swallows, then set it back on the counter and slid it toward Arleen, the barmaid. She scooped it up quickly and bustled off toward the bar proper.

Derelict's attention didn't leave the woman at his side as Arleen departed, and for several moments after. Just at the point one would get to "-ble" if speaking "uncomfortable" aloud, he breaks the silence, "So, Dawnin Farcast," he addressed her by name before asking for it, "From what I've been told, you've found yourself in quite the sticky situation, 'aven't you?" His attention roved up and down the woman - though his pupil-less eyes didn't let that show. He watched for any and all movement, especially for the unconscious sort - it was from those subtle twitches that he got his honest answers, not spoken word.

A shiver ran up Dawnin's spine as he spoke her name, as if someone had walked over her grave. She had heard plenty of rumors about this man - "the Shark; the Shadow" - but they didn't prepare her for actually being in his presence. Where others in the man's field of loan sharks, racketeers, and dons kept thickly muscled goons at hand to intimidate, Derelict illicited a sense of creeping anxiety by his presence alone. As if by simply showing up to meet him, one has already made a terrible deal with the devil under uncertain terms.

Dawnin's muscles tightened, and went slack again as she took a deep breath, "Yes. That's true," she answered stiffly, carefully calculating each word before she spoke it, "What have you heard of the situation so far?"

Derelict shook his head slowly, a helpless smile touching his lips, "Why don't you tell me your side, and we'll see 'ow much of it rings a bell to me." His obsidian eyes glinted dangerously in the low-light, "I like to judge me level of involvement on 'ow well stories match up."

The tension in the air tightened around the pair, and her mouth opened and closed several times as she hunted for the right words. "W-we ranch aldagot out Center-wards," She rushed through her summary as if she were ripping off a bandage, "but last week, some rustlers set up camp in one of the far side of our property. There's an old cottage and a lighthouse out there that no one's touched in ages, and they've turned them into a sort of fort!" She finally took a breath, then started again, this time less rushed, "It's like warfare with them - they come out at night, rounding up just a beast or two, then vanish with them. By the time we notice, they're already off to market. Then day comes around and they're holed up behind stone walls." She averted her eyes, staring sidelong at the floor as her voice takes on a melancholy hue, "It's impossible... We'd run them out ourselves, but..."

"But...?" Derelict implored, "But? But?" He had caught the small expression of unease on her when she had looked away, and he latched onto it, prodding the weak spot. Derelict considered comfort to be the foundation of negotiations, so when he found a place to apply pressure, he did so with a sadistic sense of glee. He found it typically sped up the path to the heart of the situation.

Dawnin's sandy cheeks turned a embarrassed shade of red, "But... we can't exactly just /kill/ them, or even report them for that matter..." She trailed off.

"Because of that somnus you 'ave growin' in that western field." Derelict stated nonchalantly, picking up the trail.

The color drained from the woman's face and her jaw slackened in disbelief, “How did you-” she started, then went quiet, burying her hands in her lap and looking away once again. Her anxiously hopeful expression had soured into a sunken shame. “It’s all we can do to...”

Derelict held up a hand to stop her, "Say no more, luv.” By that point, Derelict had shifted his position to rest his cheek on his fist and elbow on the counter, watching as Dawnin went about her story. He wore the amused smile of someone who knows too much - of a fox who knows the combination for the lock to the hen-house. "Terrible shame - it really is,” he remarked idly, “so what you’re saying is that you need these ‘omewreckers tended to, and you need it done quiet-like. ‘ave I got the jist of it?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she replied with a silent but sure nod.

“Well!” Derelict declared, “Looks like you came to the right unscrupulous gentleman.” His grin widened to its fullest, pulled back to show a wicked slash of too-sharp teeth. That was what he’d been looking for the whole time: a clear description of the terms. He had just needed to allow her to work up close enough to the brass tacks, herself.

He adjusted himself, then sat up straighter in his seat, “Takin’ care of blokes like this isn’t easy, I’ll tell you that. Mean bunch - rowdy bunch. If things were to get too physical, you’d be right to expect it to be a big show.” He holds up a finger to point at his point, “So me solution would be to isolate them, cut off all escape, and, like I said, deal with ‘em quiet-like.” He brings his hand back to scratch his chin contemplatively, “Still makes for a bit of a problem what with it all bein’ on your property. Probable cause is a bitch, and we don’t want them threatenin’ your livelihood. Trust me,” he added, shadows casting a shade darker across his features, “I know ‘ow that is.” He was quiet a moment longer, pretending to contemplate an answer for the woman, though he had already made up his mind on the matter before he had even sat down with her.

“Listen: ‘ere’s what we can do:” he started slowly, but worked speed into it as he went, as if getting caught up in a new idea, “Why don’t you put, say, three acres of that land up for sale - now ‘ear me out, I know that’s family land and you’d rather not part with it, but in the end, it’ll all work out for you. You put up those three - ones at the edge that ‘it the two abandoned places and then leadin’ up to the main road. I’ll ‘ave m'boys snatch it up, and then we’ll take care of them on me own property. Then no-one ‘as a reason to set foot on your property, and whatever ‘appens there is none of your concern.” He spread his arms amiably, “You wouldn’t catch so much as a peep. Besides, that strip along that cliff edge probably isn't great for grazin’ anyway, is it?"

Dawnin chewed her lower lip, her hands fidgeting in her lap, “Not particularly, no," She admitted sheepishly, "He... might make that deal. But that’st just... so much bigger than we had thought, we don’t exactly have the money to be able to pay for something quite so... Big.”

With a flick of his wrist, Derelict brushed the notion aside, “I’ve been runnin’ the numbers in me ‘ead, and I’ve seen the old shack itself." His tone was innocently contemplative, "It's a spot I might 'ave considered pickin’ up anyway if it were up on it's own. Good location, good view, nice and far away from the noise of the city." He was quiet a moment, putting on a show of mulling the decision over. "Nah, I'll offer a fair price - your payment'll be this opportunity for me." He shot her a conspiratorial glance that he noted right away didn't seem to alleviate any of her tension - exactly as he'd hoped, "Not all business is done in coin, luv." He concluded with an oily sort of confidence.

He made a barely perceptible gesture - a flick of his fingers across the bar - and in a span of moments, Arleen hurried back over to them with their drinks in hand. Had he taken his martini with lime, she would have brought it back promptly. But the substitution for lemon gave the cue to not come back till he called for it. Now he wanted that glass in Dawnin's hand. This close to the final decision, her tiniest expressions would speak volumes, and allowing those expressions to play across a glass in her hands would be like printing it in bold text.

Derelict picked up his glass by the stem and gave it an appreciative raise and tip to Arleen, who understood it as "good work, that'll be all" and "it'll be a good tip for you tonight." The barmaid smiled brightly and offered them both a small bow in return before hurrying off again to attend to the other patrons. Derelict always considered it good practice to be good to wait staff. They were some of the best eyes and ears, and good customers got remembered favorably.

He turned his attention back to Dawnin, who had picked up her mug of ale and now held it between both hands. Holding it close, he thought, defensive, considering what would happen if she gives me an answer I don't like. He knew that patch of family land was a serious point for her and her father. He knew this because he had already tried to buy that space through an intermediary, and the old man had adamantly refused to sell. But it was the perfect spot for his purposes, and he was a persistent man.

Derelict let the silence reign for a bit longer - not willing to be the first to talk once the cards were on the table - and soon, Dawnin rested an elbow on the bar and switched the mug into one hand, swishing the liquid inside thoughtfully, then taking a gulp. There it is. Making the commitment to one hand, taking a mouthful and not a shy sip. He allowed himself a small smile, waiting patiently for her to declare the decision he already knew she'd made.

"I think... That my dad should be alright with that. It's not much of the land, after all, and would could use the money to cover the cost of the last aldagoats." He said, hesitant at first, but becoming more confident the more she thought it through.

"Exactly!" Derelict agreed emphatically, "Maybe even a little left over to spruce the joint up, if I've been readin’ the ledgers and askin’ prices right." He pushed more positives in to solidify her decision, and he watched as it all cemented in her expression.

Dawnin nodded hard enough to drop some locks of her sandy golden brown hair over her face, "Right, then. I'll let dad know."

"And I'll 'andle that messy paperwork for you both," Derelict said with a smile, his colorless eyes flashing hungrily, "Don't you worry about that. It'll just take a few scribbles in your end, and you can consider that band of baddies 'andled. Permanently." He added with a dangerous grin.

He would, of course. After acquiring the property, he'd let the thefts happen maybe once or twice over the next week, just to allow a proper tapering off, and them he would call his men back out. They didn't ask for much pay to take up that job for him - they had seemed strangely happy just to be doing it. It was why he was so confident it would all go over well - count on the people who love what they do, but know better than to do it for free. He'd expected to need to push this family more to get them to finally let up - he had dealt with sentimental types before, and usually they waited out till the circumstances were desperate before following his breadcrumb trail back to him for help. So, he was pleased with the results he had gotten after only a week. With the rustlers-for-hire's contract terminated, the "menace" cleared out, and the cottage open and empty, he'd be able to do what he pleased with it.

Enambris did want a seaside wedding, after all.

Derelict raised his glass in Dawnin's direction and gave her a knife-edge smile, like a cat with a mouse, "To good business."

Dawnin raised her mug to match, and though her voice wavered a touch, she agreed, "To good business."

#derelict ravn #writing #balmung #ffxiv rp #balmung rp #negotiations #over drinks #thinks are happening over dinner

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wheat-hands · 6 years

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bonfire!!!

dream house (TY TY FOR ASKING YR SWEET I BET 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛)hmm wow hmmfaaarm.... for surelike a community living farm.... i rly like adobe/clay/cave like walls and stuff, natural curvature m, lots of wood beams.....plays a lot w the transition of inside and outside, i want the outside as much inside as possible lol, like LOTS of windows, creeks and plants that wade thru the house and rooms/areas separate a little so u have to walk a little outside to get to them, koi ponds and such... and a conversation pit lmaooh for sure outdoor bath and shower (also inside one but nothin beats showering outside)i like a little dirt in the entrance ways ya dig? ty ty bles u

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cereul · 3 years

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aint nothin but chaos and pain in my heart lads! i need some fuckin ed*bles

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jceydrew · 6 years

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ice cream.

so i told @aceofintuition i’d write them a little drabble about their version of joey (who we all like to call ‘snowy’ in our little group chat) spending time with his daughter. i figured i should post this somewhere.

warnings? it’s sugary sweet and i didn’t proof read it. typo’s and errors beware!

Sundays had always left the Drew household a little more occuppied, a little more lively; and yet at the same time, a little more cozy. Where Joey had often found himself in the studio during the week and, if his sacrifices had called for it, late into the evening, Sunday had been a roadblock to all every gripe and headache that had been work. It had been one of the days that he could not only spend relaxing, but within the company of his family. No longer in the presence of uptight workers who he often found himself frustrated with, but with those who had cherished that had broken down that business demeanor that he usually upheld, that cracked away at a man who had been more soft than one would figure.

Particularly, Joey found the Sundays where he spent time with his daughter to be his favorite. The atmosphere had changed since her dreadful diagnosis, one that had plagued him with levels of sorrow and an inexplicable force in his veins to reverse that, to free her of the pain. But around the household, he and his wife had, and would do, absolutely anything to make sure she had everything she had ever needed and wanted. Her smile had been worth every penny in the entire world, and every drop of blood and life that he could offer. Even with their efforts in mind, she had always been a wonderstruck girl, not unlike her father; Even when her health had been rapidly declining, she had faced the odds with an optimism only his own blood could have. It had made the pain and stress far, far easier on them.

His footsteps had been light as he carried himself to her bedroom door. Knuckles rapped against the door, his other hand holding onto the knob, awaiting approval. A familiar voice had squeaked out a, 'Come in', and that had been his green light. Slowly, he pushed the door open to not disturb her too much, half of his torso and head peeking through the space made. No matter how many times she had seen him, she would always light up like a firework at the sight of him, the book in her hands--Something he and his wife had supplied for her when they had been busy, so she could get lost in her own little world of whimsy and imagination--Long forgotten in favor of his presence.

"Papa!"

"There's my little star. Didn't interrupt too much of your reading now, did I?"

Her hair follows as she shakes her head in a sound no, her hands outstretching as a silent plea for him to come closer. Obligation is hardly the word, the sheer act of spending time with her more so a pleasure: What sort of father would he be, after all, if he didn't enjoy spending time with his family? Slipping fully into her room, the door shuts behind him soundly, soon walking over to the edge of the bed.

"Well, that's mighty swell. I'd hate to interrupt story time -- What's new in that book of yours?"

Blue eyes blink as she grabs at her book and thrusts it towards him, excitement radiating off of her like a buzz.

"This one's a book you'd like very much papa! It's about a--a engine! He's real sad lots," She pauses, a little thoughtful. In a single second, she seems to have hopped back onto the next train that was giddiness, "He thinks he can't do nothin'--And all those other trains are mean to him. But he shows them, papa, he really shows them!"

"Is that so? Well, I'd sure love to meet that little train. I think me and him would get on just dandy."

She nods again, opening to a random page and pointing to the colorful train character. Joey squints as he examines the little engine, the shot of him finally making it over the hill; It was a sign of hope. He considers it good that she had decided to read that one.

"Do you think--D'you think he can be in an episode with Mister Bendy?"

"Well, sure he can! You know, Bendy's real fond of trains."

Those words are enough to make her over the moon, reaching over just enough to hug his arm.

"Yay! Mister Bendy's gonna meet the little engine that could, he's--" She pauses again, lips pursed curiously as her eyes peek up at him, quizzical. "Don't you gots work to do, papa? Mama says you're always so busy."

Joey's tongue clicks, his hand carding through and ruffling her hair. "Oh, don't listen to her. I can always make time for you."

That seems to satisfy her enough, the smile once again present, but her eyes not leaving him. "Are you gonna read a story with me?"

"As much as I love tellin' stories, I've got something better planned for us today!"

A tilt of her head. "What's that?"

"Why, we're going on an adventure!"

The look that had reflected in his daughter's eyes had said it all; The way that they had squinted in skepitcism, in disbelief had left his heart wince with a sting, but it had been fresh coal to the burning fire that was his relentless ambition to give her a life nothing short of golden.

"Papa, you're silly," She giggled at that, and Joey knew that her laugh was worth all the years off his life that he could give. "Mister Doctor man says I can't go on adventures no more." No matter how depressing the thought had been, one that could break down even the strongest of people like dust, she had said it all so cheerfully, so full of life and spirit. It was something he knew that he could admire in her; Something that had reminded him of himself, at one time, that he was thankful to see it on her than himself. She had needed it more than he did.

Still, he plays along. With a shake of his head, his lip curls into a scowl and his eyes narrow rather comically; A caricature of one of his employees would witness.

"Now that's no way to talk, little lady." Up into his arms he scoops her from the lonely, depressing shell of her bed, tucked against his chest as a form of safety. "Doctors are awfully smart fella's, I'll give them that much. But you can let ol' white coat ruin your sense of adventure! What is it I always say?" There's a hum in thought; False, but his eyes roll to the ceiling in faux thought, a finger raising to tap his chin. "Gee, I just can't seem to recall. Think you can refresh my memory for me?"

There's another melody of a laugh at that, and he knows he's done well. Where skepticism once sat in her blue eyes had been replaced with stars. "With enough belief," She starts carefully, as if reciting something so terribly delicate and dear to the heart, "Anything is possible--There's no such thing as im...impa..." The one cheerful grin warps into concentration, struggling with the word. This time it's his turn to laugh; light and warm as a finger taps her nose, not condescending but endeared by the display.

"Im-poss-i-ble." Each syllable is pronounced slowly for her to gauge and understand, soon met with an eager nod from her in response.

"Yeah, that!"

"You'll get it next time, sweetheart. Remember; Practice makes perfect!"

There's a silent confirmation between them as he carries her over to her wheelchair. She may have the spirit of a lion, but he can't help but see her as so fragile; That if he isn't careful with her, she much break in his hands like glass. It shows in the way he slowly settles her in her wheelchair; A sight, when empty, only makes him clench his fists and brainstorm on how he can give the Gods more to grant him with what he had truly desired, on what he can do to get her walking again. Someone so young, so nimble, so full of life and stars and sunshine had deserved to walk and run just like all the other children. Why she had been the one of the unlucky ones to be so cursed with such a damned disease had been beyond him, but it had been tragedies like that that had left him questioning the world.

Whatever trance of his own thoughts he'd been momentarily lost in, however, she breaks him out of with a soft question: "Papa? Where are we goin'?" Snapping to life, his hands take hold out of her wheelchair's bars, pushing her out of the room, as careful as he had put her in it. The smile is evident in his voice, even if she can't see it with him behind her.

"We're going to the park. Now, I told your mother we were just going for a li'l air, but," He leans enough for her to see him as she cranes her neck up at him, and he greets her with a finger to his lips and a wink, "Don't tell her I'm gettin' you ice cream. She's gonna have my head on a plate for that."

A light twinkles in her eyes as she gasps, tiny hands covering her even tinier mouth. He knows that that's a light that deserves to shine. "I won't tell her, papa, I promise!" Her voice is meek and small like a mouse, a whisper that's interrupted by childlike giggles.

His grin widens at that, a state of happiness settling through his bones, of affection only a father can hold for his own child. "That's my girl."

Joey couldn't say that his memory held the exact date of when he had last gotten her ice cream. Taking her out and about on Sundays had never been against the norm; He and his wife had done the best they could to make sure that she hadn't stayed cooped up inside all day. Hell only knew what it would mean for her happiness to be left in a dreary room and no way to get around that had been free of struggle. So they had taken her anywhere her heart had desired; To the park, to the beach, once even, by her persistance and a firm sweep of his employees to make sure nothing had gone wrong, to a small lot of the studio to show her 'Daddy's workplace.' They had all been fond memories, but there had always been something special about having ice cream and watching the clouds in the park.

The weather seems to be perfect for the outing; Not too hot and not too warm. Clouds speckle the sky, fluffy and a bright white against the clear blue sky, and many families had been out on such a day. There came a certain delight with her pointing out strangers and making commentary, asking him questions about nature, or when she saw a dog playing fetch and how she so badly wanted a puppy for Christmas. The fresh air had done her good--And with his shortening age, Joey supposed his own had benefited from it, too. His eyes scanned around before stumbling upon a lone ice cream stand; The line slowing to an empty queue. Wheeling her towards it, they waited patiently behind the following patron, who had waited for their scoop. Once given, Joey approached.

"What can I get for you folks?" His voice held a twang native to Brooklyn, the positive expression on his face genuine rather than the forced smiles some workers seemed to have.

"Two, please. One mint chocolate chip and--" His head turned down to his daughter, who had been staring at the menu as if it was the hardest decision known to man. "What would you like, sweetheart?"

"Strawberry!"

"And one strawberry." Joey punctuated it with a snicker, raising his head back upright.

"You got it, pal." The owner turned his back to them, busying himself with getting the waffle cones and their share of scoops.

Reaching his back into his slack's pocket, he pulled his wallet out, flicking it open only to be disrupted by the sound of a blown raspberry. Furrowing his brows, his head again turned downward to meet his daughter, who this time had her arms crossed and her face scrunched up in that of disgust. It was obvious what had come over her, such were the way of children, but Joey couldn't help but ask.

"What's the matter?"

"Mint is yucky, papa!" Her tongue stuck out with an exaggerated 'blech' sound. "Tastes like toofpaste!"

"Oh, cut your old man a li'l slack. See, when you grow up into an adult, you don't get to enjoy normal, fun flavors anymore!"

At that, her expression fell, caught up in the lie. "Huh? Why's that?"

"It's a sad story. Real sad. I don't think you'll be able to bear it."

A whine came from her throat, insistent.

"Alright, alright. Y'see, when you grow up into one of those--Adolescents, you start to lose your right to have fun like all the old tykes and tots. You can't enjoy this or that anymore--There's this big council of fun--We call 'em uh, well, the Bee Oh Cee Eff--That tells you what you can and can't like. And the most heartbreakin' thing they tell you is that us adults only get two ice cream options: Raisin and mint! Scary, in'nit?"

She nodded with a pout. "I don't wanna be an adult!"

"Well, everybody's got to be one. That's why you gotta make a promise -- You gotta stay young at heart, no matter how old you get. Even when you're ninety-two. 'Cause that's the best thing you could ever be."

A nod came from her, followed by a little salute.

The ice cream owner seemed to laugh at that, boisterous and the sort of laugh that had been booming, enough to snap Joey's attention back to him.

"Mint for the fella and a special double scoop for the li'l lady."

Fingers pulled across the bills in his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

"Naaah-ah-ah, no way, pally. Dis one's free a'charge, a'ight?" There was an unquestioning look in the owner's eyes when they had met Joey's; A look of sympathy. Of silent, agonizing apology for his situation. It had been pity in it's rawest form, of a stranger trying to make life even a touch easier for a girl so troubled. It was people like that that had made the world a better place, hadn't it?

"Well, thank you very much." First he took her cone, then his own. "What do we say to the nice man?"

"Thank you, mister!" Her hands waved to him, before reaching out for her ice cream. Joey obliged, handing her both his--One she pouted at--And her own, something she hadn't minded. His hands would be occupied with pushing her around until he could find some place to settle, a routine they had gone through before.

It hadn't taken him long to find a bench underneath the shade of an old oak tree: One barren and free of too much activity from other visitors. It had been the perfect place for a rest stop, her chair left right besides him as he sat on the bench with his own ice cream. The two sat in a comfortable, understanding silence; Conversation hadn't always been needed. There was a certain harmony, a certain easiness, in just sitting down and enjoying the presence of family. Gaze lost on the lazily drifting clouds, a much tinier hand overlapped his large one that had rested on the flat surface of the bench, pulling his attention away. Glancing over, he blinked in question; She hadn't looked upset by any means, enjoying her ice cream, although a little sloppily. He'd clean her face off in a minute.

"Papa?" She started, voice quiet.

"What is it?"

"Next time, can I get three scoops?"

The sudden question, asked so privately as if she would get in trouble for it, brought out a laugh from him. It was moments like these that made everything worth it.

"Sure, sweetheart. Whatever your dream is, it's my job to make it come true."

#I DONT HAVE A WRITING TAG SO JUST TAKE IT #long post

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