#i just have been enjoying those ''stay on the farm'' challenges | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

talewrites · 1 month

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Fragile Part 6

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(This chapter got too long- I had to cut it short,,,, :]]] Enjoy!)

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’, 'miss', and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, blood, electrocution, graphic depictions of torture, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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Today you were spending time with Donnie while he worked in front of his monitors. You liked it there much better than in his lab. He had a map of the city up with little marks indicating spots where the Foot had been spotted. But that wasn’t what he was working on right now.

No, you and Donnie were doing much more important things at the moment.

Like playing the new update in Stardew Valley.

“Fishing mods are cheating.”

You gawked at him in mock offense. “But you can’t pause in a multiplayer farm, there’s no time to play the fishing mini game!!”

“That’s why it’s more of a challenge!” He stuck his tongue out while he clicked his mouse rapidly to fight off a slime in the mines.

You pouted, adjusting the laptop in your lap. “I don’t need my cozy farming sim to be challenging…”

Donnie did not miss the cute grin that graced your face after, his heart fluttering in his chest.

These past few days you found yourself smiling more and more easily. Whether it was Mikey getting covered in flour while you baked cookies together, or Raph teaching you how to purl stitch, or Leo showing you how to wield a sword. You were enjoying spending more personal time with the turtles as you got to know them better.

Your toes curled where you were perched in the chair beside Donnie, glancing up at the map again. Your eyes always drawn to the blinking red dot marking the location of the lab you escaped only weeks before. The police had raided it and found it empty, which only increased your unease as to where Dr Stockman might be hiding. It already felt like a lifetime ago, that night when the turtles first found you.

You owed them your life.

“Hey (y/n), you almost ready for afternoon training?” Leo came over, snapping you out of your thoughts. Leo leaned against the back on Donnie’s chair, earning a dismissive swat from his younger brother.

“We’ll stop after we finish up this day, Leo.” Donnie said not even taking his eyes off the screen. You giggled and got back to fishing on the beach.

You were two hours into your training session with Leo.

“Okay, good. Now when you kick, focus on your balance. Stay firmly planted and your leg should have more power.” Leo coached you.

Master Splinter was supervising while sipping his tea. It had barely been 5 days since your mutant abilities had manifested. But you were already making astounding progress in unlocking its potential. Leonardo had played a big part in the process, being the one who had helped you work through your fears of using your mutant reflexes, so the abilities came more easily to you when training. He trained with you every day, while Master Splinter provided guidance. Everyone was doing their best to support you through all the changes.

Casey suddenly jogged in through the entrance of the lair.

“Guys! Just got word, the Foot are planning to rob a warehouse full of high tech weapons tonight. We gotta go intercept it.” He said waving around his cellphone.

“What? Where? Their communication frequency has been quiet since they moved those chemicals to the old Sacks building!” Donnie spun around in his chair to face Casey, you and Leo walking into the living room with Raph and Mikey close behind.

“Queens. Our contact in the Foot Clan leaked the info to us just half an hour ago.”

“Huh, that’s strange. That’s all the way on the other side of town. Aside from Sacks Tower, they’ve only really been active around the East Village and ChinaTown this past week. Maybe they changed their frequency again to throw us off track.” Donnie was quickly typing up info on his keyboard.

“Well, regardless, we better go check it out.” Leo sighed. He wanted to keep training with you, but it would have to wait.

“Heck yeah! I’m bringin’ the steak-out snacks. Who wants Doritos?” Mikey grabbed his ratty old Jansport backpack and started shoving cans of Orange Crush into it.

“(Y/n), you stay here and keep an eye on Donnie’s computer. The Foot might try to communicate about their raid tonight. Donnie’s program will intercept it. April will be here in about an hour, so just tell her if anything suspicious comes up.” Leo asked you.

“Right!” You said standing to attention and giving a military salute with a silly little grin on your face.

It made Leo’s heart melt in his chest and his expression turned soft.

“Just, stay safe, okay?” He patted you on the head then headed for the exit.

As the rest of the boys filed out of the lair, they each stopped by you. Mikey getting a high five, you quickly cleaned Donnie’s glasses for him, and Raph, always last, ducked down for a quick hug when his brothers weren’t looking. Casey rushed ahead of them.

Master Splinter waved goodbye to his sons next to you. Once the boys had left, he informed you he was going to go meditate, and to come find him if you needed anything.

About 45 minutes later, you were casually watching YouTube videos on Donnie’s computer when a flashing red light appeared on the screen. It was indicating that Donnie’s program was intercepting a message from the Foot’s closed communication server. A message popped up on the screen, and you gasped.

“We have captured the turtles. Continue with the plan.”

Then a video feed loaded up on the main screen.

Your blood ran cold.

It looked like the feed from a security camera, depicting Leo, Mikey, and Donnie all locked in glass cages, restrained with thin tubes of red connected to their arms. They looked weak, they looked bad.

“What….? No… No, not this… please no…!”

Where was Raphael? He was nowhere to be seen. How did they get captured so fast…? They had barely been gone an hour!

Your mind was racing. You recognized those machines. Dr Stockman used them to take blood samples from Bebop and Rocksteady. If that was the case, there was no time to lose.

You made up your mind.

You snuck past the dojo and muttered a quick apology to Master Splinter. You knew Master Splinter wouldn’t let you go, so you kept quiet. Then you grabbed the handheld GPS device Donnie left on his work table. You entered the location on the map where the message was sent from.

The old Sacks Tower.

Time to move.

April arrived at the lair much later than expected. She and Casey had just finished speaking to the commissioner about police activities being leaked to the Foot. When they entered the living room, they were confused to only see Master Splinter waiting for them. The old rat was pacing and anxiously stroking his beard.

“Splinter? Where’s (y/n)?” April asked, confused.

Splinter shook his head.

“You don’t know where they are?” April became concerned, walking further into the lair.

“It appears, that our greatest fears have been realized.” His expression deeply troubled. Before April could ask, she noticed what Splinter was looking at.

Playing in a loop on Donatello’s monitor was old CCTV footage from when the turtles had been captured 10 years ago by Shredder and Mr Sacks. April breathed a sigh of relief, immediately recognizing the scene.

“Splinter, the turtles are safe. I spoke to Leo on the phone only 10 minutes ago. They’re staking out a warehouse in Queens. This is old footage.”

Splinter’s eyes widened and looked back to the screen. His expression turned contemplative.

“If that is so, then perhaps Miss (y/n) has made the same mistake.” He spoke gravely.

April had a look of shock. She quickly pulled out her phone and speed dialed Leo’s number.

Leo thankfully answered quickly. “Hey April, anything new?”

“Leo, is (y/n) with you?”

Leo paused a long moment and sent a look over to his brothers, getting their attention. “No…. Aren’t they at the lair?” All of his brother's eyes were suddenly on him. Leo turned the phone on speaker.

“No!! They’re gone. And there’s a video playing on Donnie’s computer. It’s a recording of you Mikey and Donnie locked up at Sacks’ estate from over 10 years ago… I think this is what (y/n) saw before they left.”

“They left?” Leo felt his heart drop into his stomach. “To go where, Sacks’ estate?” His brothers immediately started packing up their stakeout equipment to leave.

“No I don’t think so, the sender’s location was tracked, it’s still on the screen. It says it was sent from Sack Tower in Times Square.”

Donnie came over and joined in the call, typing furiously at the keyboard on his wrist. “Sacks Tower. That’s where they were spotted smuggling those stolen chemicals into the other day…! From my notifications, it appears that the message was sent through an older Foot Clan communication frequency approximately 43 minutes ago.”

“Donnie, how long will it take (y/n) to get to Sacks Tower.”

“From my calculations, if (y/n) left the lair heading to the Sacks building about 40 minutes ago, going by subway, they should arrive in about uhhh, approximately 8 minutes.”

“And how long will it take us to get there.” Raph asked.

“From where we are now, if we manage to hitch a ride on the next nonstop train to Times Square…… about 1 and a half hours.”

“Shit!”

Raph cursed loudly and turned away frustrated, and Mikey put his hands on his head. Donnie was typing away at the keypad on his arm, trying to find any kind of faster route and muttering about how stupid he was for not making you a shellcell.

“We don’t have a minute to waste. Let’s move out.”

That’s all they needed to hear. Everyone sprung into action and booked it for the closest subway station manhole cover.

“April, we are headed to Sacks Tower as fast as we can. And get ahold of the police commissioner again. Whoever gave us the information to come to this warehouse tonight was intentionally planted with misinformation. There was no sign of the Foot at the warehouse. …..It was most likely a diversion.”

“Right. I’ll get back to you soon.”

Leo hung up the phone and jumped off the apartment building and dove down towards the street’s manhole cover.

Leo grit his teeth.

“Hold on (y/n).”

The halls of the building were eerily empty. This place made your skin crawl. The laboratory felt all too similar to the one you had been trapped in before. But this one had clearly been abandoned for a long time. Broken glass, graffiti, turned over chairs, scattered paper. But strangely the power was still on. You didn’t dare try to use the elevator in fear of giving away your position. But you were confused as to why you had yet to see any guards. This is where the message was sent from, the turtles had to be here, right?

You climbed the steps to another floor, but paused as you creaked open the door exiting the stairwell. This floor felt like a world apart from the previous ones. It was clean.

And the lights were on.

You kept low, and hyper vigilant. Steadying your breathing like Leo had taught you, you crept into the sterile white hallway. There were glass windows along the hall looking into different labs. One held chemistry equipment, another held big bulky medical equipment that clicked and beeped. Finally, the last room at the end of the hall, a room with no windows. You had a sinking feeling in your gut, but still you crept towards the door. Slowly and quietly you pulled open the heavy door, and revealed a large lit room with a high ceiling, and there you saw it.

“Guys….!”

There along the back wall were 4 glass boxes with 3 of the turtles strung up and being drained of blood. You had found them! Seeing no one else in the room, you rushed in.

“I’m going to get you out of here, just you wait!” You went to the first machine in front of Donnie and reached out to touch the screen-

Your hand passed right through.

“What…?” You tried to touch it again but there was nothing there.

The hologram distorted, and then the turtles disappeared. You gasped.

It was a trap.

You turned around to book it towards the exit, but the door was opening again. Bebop and Rocksteady squeezed through the small door one at a time, and blocked your exit. Then over an intercom you heard the familiar laugh that sent a shiver down your spine.

Stockman chuckled darkly. “Just how I planned it! Like catching a fly with honey. So predictable!”

You backed up slowly as Bebop and Rocksteady approached you.

“Did you miss us, little kitty?” Rocksteady sneered.

The intercom buzzed as Stockman spoke again. “Bebop, Rocksteady, keep them occupied until I arrive. I will be there momentarily. And let’s not have a repeat of last time, please!” There was a clicking sound and the intercom went quiet.

Bebop chuckled. “Hell yeah! It’s been so long since we last played! Let’s make the most of it.”

“That’s right! And we gotta pay you back for all the trouble you caused us! We missed you so much after you left. You wanna go first Beebs?”

“My man!” Bebop smiled at Rocksteady and clasped his hand, they both laughed.

You tried your best to steady your breathing like Leo taught you. Your hands were trembling. But you needed a way out. Bebop and Rocksteady were not fast, if you timed it right, maybe you can get past them to the door.

Bebop approached you. You stayed still and waited. Then when he got close enough, you ran right towards him, surprising Bebop. He reached out to grab you but you slid right between his legs, then jumped up behind him and tried to run past Rocksteady before he could react. He was still too close to you and managed to grab you from behind, but you were ready for him. Just like in training, you reached up and grabbed him around his neck, and taking a deep breath, you threw all your strength forward and down and managed to flip Rocksteady onto his back- stunning him. You quickly jumped over him and ran for the door, slamming into it fast and wretched the handle to pull it open.

Locked. (Warning for graphic depictions of torture ahead.)

“No…!” You felt a bruising grip close around your arm, and you were torn away from the door. “NO!!” You cried out as you were thrown hard onto the floor between the two oversized mutants.

“See? Now that’s your problem. You gotta go makin’ our job harder than it needs to be!” Bebop complained.

Rocksteady was picking himself back up, rubbing the back of his head tenderly. “Don’t let them get to ya Beebs, we’ll sort them out quick before Stockman gets here.” Bebop then reached into his pocket and pulled out an all too familiar black taser.

Rocksteady took the taser and chuckled. “Little kitty needs a check-up!”

You tried to get up and run, but Rocksteady stomped down hard on your left arm. There was a sickening snap and you screamed, writhing in pain. You were pinned.

“Tsk, tsk. You know what happens when kitty gets naughty!” The taser was flicked on, all you could do was close your eyes before a strong surge of electricity was shot into your ribcage and throughout your body. You convulsed as the shocks seized you, your shoulder getting dislocated from the spasms, then collapsed back on the floor.

“Just like good ol’ times!” Rocksteady passed the taser to Bebop.

Rocksteady laughed and removed his foot from your arm, then Bebop tased you in the ribs again. You yelped and rolled onto your stomach, tucking your very broken arm underneath you and tried to crawl away.

“Hey, where ya goin? We’re just getting STARTED!” Rocksteady punctuated his sentence by kicking you in the stomach hard enough to throw you across the room. You hit the ground and your body rolled another few feet until you stopped on your side and curled in on yourself, the air knocked out of your lungs.

Bebop took his time strolling over to you, and grabbed you by the hair to lift you up. You coughed and gasped for air, grabbing at his hand and tried to pry his fingers off of his grip.

“Think you can just up and leave whenever you want, do ya?” He growled in your ear, then dropped you down haphazardly to the floor. You were on your knees, buckled forward and holding your left shoulder, when suddenly Bebop’s foot stomped down on your right ankle and you heard a loud crunch.

You shrieked.

Exhausted and riddled with unbearable pain, you crippled to the floor. It took everything you had just to pull breath.

“Alright, I’m back! How is our lovely patient doing?” Came the cheerful sing-song voice of Dr Stockman entering the room through the locked door, Karai tailing behind him.

“Hey boss! Uhhh, we were just warming them up for ya! See? They can’t run away no more.” Bebop nudged your side with his foot, knocking you onto your side so Stockman could see the pain riddled on your face. You were barely conscious by this point.

“Excellent! Bring them to me.” Stockman ordered.

Bebop picked you up by your good arm and carried you over to where Dr Stockman was walking to in the back of the room. Karai stepped in Bebop’s way for a moment, taking in your beaten appearance, and back-handed your face hard for good measure, leaving a shiny bruise and angry red gash across your cheek. That woke you up a bit.

Just enough to retaliate.

You took a deep breath and tore your arm out of Bebop’s grasp and punched Karai in the stomach, hard enough to throw her into a large display screen next to where Stockman was standing. Stockman squawked in surprise. She rolled onto the floor, and pushed herself up onto her side. Spitting a bit of blood onto the ground and wiping away at her lip.

You tried to stand on your good leg but you were too weak and collapsed back to the floor. Bebop and Rocksteady grabbed you by each of your arms and brought you in front of Stockman.

He was looking at you in awe, and reached out tentatively to swipe at the blood on your cheek. He rushed over to his desk, jumping a bit in excitement. He put a drop of your blood onto a slide, and observed it under his microscope.

“Ha…! HA HA…! YES!!” Stockman shouted in excitement and did a little dance. Bebop and Rocksteady exchanged a confused look and Karai stood up and walked over to Stockman, eyeing you angrily and rolling her shoulder.

“What does this mean?” She questioned him.

“It means that the mutation was a SUCCESS!!! Those stupid turtles must have triggered it somehow. And now we can finally proceed with the plan!!!” He grabbed something off his desk and skipped over to the stairs leading up to the circular titanium base in the middle of the room. “Bring them here!!” He called over, waving his hand to Bebop and Rocksteady.

They dragged you over to Stockman, and were deposited on the round podium that sat under a large glass tube. Stockman started to pull down long rubber tubes from above, and attached large thick needles to the ends. You tried once again to crawl away with your good arm, as Bebop and Rocksteady retreated.

But Stockman approached you from behind. In a quick jab, he stabbed the two needled tubes deep into your back. You grunted and groaned in pain, but could do nothing, collapsing on the podium. Beaten, bruised, and bleeding.

When Dr Stockman was finished, he descended the stairs and rushed over to his computer, giggling excitedly he typed in a command and the glass tube descended over you until it clicked into place at the sturdy titanium base. Locking you inside.

“They’ll be placed in suspended animation. Once the tank is completely filled with the preservation fluid, they’ll become nothing more than a convenient blood bag, supplying an endless supply of mutagen for our mutant army.” Stockman rubbed his hands together evilly.

“And what about the turtles?” Karai asked.

“It is already too late for them to stop us. Even if they manage to get through your guards, they will be unable to free them from this tank. Once I start the filtration process, I will delete the programmed command to empty or release the containment cylinder. They won’t be able to free them without my help!” Stockman typed away quickly at his computer.

One of the tubes connected to your back began to pull blood from your body, leading up through a small opening in the top of the cylinder then down into a canister at the base. Then from the second tube, a white milky substance full of liquid nutrients began to filter through and down into your body. It did nothing to numb the pain you felt as you laid there in a state of half consciousness.

Suddenly, the loud banging of gunshots could be heard somewhere outside the door.

“We’re not ready yet! Hold them back!” Stockman ordered Bebop and Rocksteady, who positioned themselves between Stockman and the door.

The door suddenly blew wide open, and the four turtles rushed into the room, angry and weapons at the ready.

“Where’s (y/n).”

Part 7

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel @blackrockshooter780 @l-n-g-t @peachesdabunny @silverwatergalaxy @willy-the-witch @caeliasaida @veri-varily @xnorthstar3x

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

#tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader #tmnt imagines #tmnt fanfic #bayverse donatello #bayverse raphael #bayverse leonardo #bayverse michelangelo

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slasher-male-wife · 1 year

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Slashers with a hippie s/o

Spring is upon us and I've been leaning into more of a hippie style with the warmer weather. I've been running out of ideas for what to write about so I hope this doesn't suck.

Includes: Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Jason Voorhees, and Baby Firefly

Warnings: Mentions of what slashers do, weed mentions in Babies part

Bubba Sawyer

He honestly loves your style. He's noticed the shift to hippie styles for awhile now while dealing with victims and he's always admired it from afar.

If you go all out with it and don't wear shoes often then Bubba is going to be a bit concerned about you hurting yourself while walking around. He's probably going to refuse to let you leave the house without wearing some kind of shoes.

If you have long enough hair for him to style he's going to have a field day with it. Braiding flowers into your hair, brushing it out, curling it if it's straight or twirling his fingers around it if it's curly. If your hair is more coily/kinky he's going to adore sticking flowers in it and making a flower crown for your hair.

If you need any new clothes or Bubba finds some on a victim that he thinks you'd like he's taking them for you to have. I have a feeling he can sew pretty well so if he ever has enough fabric and a pattern he'll try making you some clothes.

He also enjoys hippie music. It's mostly slow, calming stuff that helps keep his mind at ease. He can't go out and buy new records to play so all of his music comes from the radio which is fine by him.

Thomas Hewitt

His family (meaning Hoyt) has made him look down on hippies since they became aware of what hippies are. But meeting you has challenged his view on them.

If you're a man/look more masculine he's going to feel conflicted about how you dress, because in his eyes (and the way Hoyt has talked about hippies) "real men" don't dress like that. But you, again, change his mind about that.

Will also steal clothes from victims if he thinks you'd like them. Your clothes are going to get dirty often from all of the work you're doing around the house and on the farm so he's going to have a few pairs of work clothes set aside for you.

Over time he becomes more of a fan of your style, even if Hoyt makes comments about it. But when Hoyt does make those rude comments on your style, Thomas gives him a death glare, because he's not brave enough to outright fight his family but he's not below intimidation.

He's also a fan of the music. It's a nice break from all of the screaming and yelling of victims and his family. It's calming to him and whenever he has the time, he likes to put of the radio and dance with you.

Jason Voorhees

Jason lived in the woods for most of the mainstream hippie trends, but he still saw them and he wasn't the biggest fan of the style. His mother raised him Christian, and while I don't think he stayed Christian as he got older, he did keep some ideals from the religion, like modesty.

He's not against your style, he just doesn't love it when you show a lot of skin. But if you make a hippie outfit where you're more modest he's all for that. Although he's also worried about the longevity of the clothing. Because of all the activities you're doing around camp.

Another slasher who will steal clothes from victims to give to you, unless he deems it to be too immodest. Like Bubba he's not letting you leave the house without shoes on. Will honestly only let you keep a pair of boots just because of the practicality of them.

He does like the more nature inspired themes in the hippie style. As your relationship goes on he's going to try and find ways to make hippie clothes more practical for the life you two live.

As for the music, he's kind of a fan. It's not like 80's rock music which I feel like he despises. He likes how it's slow and calmer and while he doesn't agree with all the parts about sex and drugs, he's not too against it.

Baby Firefly

Her style is kind of the opposite of yours. She loves more tight fitting clothing that's all ripped up and edgy. She probably laughed at your outfit and made a comment about it when she first met you. "Just letting you know Woodstock was three years ago."

But she loves dressing you up in whatever stuff she can. She probably has some kind of hippie clothes laying around her bedroom that she'll want you to try on. Half of them are her's, half are from victims. But she's always happy to hit up a second hand store to buy more clothes or try and diy some new ones.

She agrees with some of the ideas that come with being a hippie. She's all for free love and smoking weed, she's against the Government too and she thinks guys with long hair are pretty cute.

Her family is probably going to make comments on your style, except for Mamma and Rufus, they'll be more polite. But if her family makes rude comments about your style she'll defend you. But if a victim insults your style? She's going to see red, because nobody is mean to her s/o unless it's her.

Not a huge fan of hippie music. She prefers heavier stuff, but since you listen to her music all of the time she'll sit and listen to some of yours for a little bit. She can't promise that she won't get bored after a few songs but she'll try her best to not complain about it.

#bubba sawyer #bubba saywer x reader #bubba sawyer x y/n #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x reader #jason voorhees #jason vorhees #jason voorhees x reader #jason vorhees x reader #baby firefly #baby firefly x reader #baby firefly x y/n #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

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nicoline1998enilocin · 7 months

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Flufftober Day 22 | Apple picking

Pairing | Boyfriend!Dad!Young!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Mom!Female!Reader

Word count | 2.1K

Summary | You've grown up with the tradition of going apple picking each fall, and now that you and Tony have your own little family, you want to keep this tradition going. As you, Tony, Orion, and Hudson go to a local apple farm during an apple-picking event, you can't help but soak up every last second and special memory.

Prompt(s) | 22. Picking | @flufftober

Warning(s) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Reference to ruined childhood memories, use of pet names (Sunshine, Love/My Love, Baby Boy, Baby Girl), no mention of Y/N.

A/n | This one shot is written for day 22 of my Flufftober 2023 Challenge. I absolutely love Tony, Sunshine, and their little family, so they shouldn't miss out on one of my favorite activities during the summer and fall! I hope you will enjoy this as much as I did when writing it 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 🧡

Divider is made by @cafekitsune | GIF credit to the owner

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | AU Masterlist | Flufftober Masterlist

You were driving home after a long and tiring workday when you suddenly saw a giant advertisement for apple picking at a local apple farm. It brought up many fond memories, and you can't wait to tell Tony about your idea; it would be amazing to take the twins there.

When you think back to your childhood, you have a lot of good, fun memories, but ever since you've been pregnant with your Munchkins, those memories have a bit of a dark edge.

You can't think about that too long because an incoming phone call immediately brings you back to reality, and you see it's your loving boyfriend, Tony, to see what time you will be home.

''Hi Love,'' you sigh softly before continuing to drive home, still about a half-hour drive away from home.

''Hey Sunshine, how long will it be until you're home? We miss- hold on,'' he interrupts himself. ''Hudson and Orion Stark, get off of there right this second!'' he says before putting his phone on the table with a loud thud.

You can't help but chuckle as you listen to what's happening at home, though you're looking forward to seeing all three of them again. They always bring a smile to your face, even on your most challenging days.

''Right, I'm back! Sorry for that, Sunshine. I was asking-'' and that's when he sighs. ''For the love of... I'll call you in a bit, Sunshine.''

He hangs up the phone and takes care of the kids, putting them in front of the TV with a cartoon to ensure they'll stay quiet long enough before he calls you back.

When their favorite cartoon is playing, and they're sitting hand in hand, their pacifiers in their little mouths, he finally dares to call you again, but not without taking a picture of them first.

It doesn't take long before he's back on the phone, finally able to talk to you for a few minutes while still keeping a watchful eye on his troublemakers on the couch.

''Welcome back, My Love, long time no talk,'' you joke, and you can't help but let out a boisterous laugh at your joke, making Tony smile in response.

''Right?! I was starting to think you'd leave me forever...'' he says with a fake sniffle.

''I could never leave your ass, it'd cost me too much to move out!''

''Please always remember that, Sunshine! But that's not what I'm calling for. I wanted to know when you'd be home because I want to go for dinner with the twins tonight. No specific reason but I just felt like taking my beautiful girlfriend and amazing twins out to dinner,'' he tells you, and your heart melts at his words.

''I'd love nothing more; how about that Italian place we love so much?'' you say, and Tony agrees.

''I'll be home in around 20 minutes, but I'd like to change quickly before we go, so how about 18:30? They might want to take a short nap before, and they can go to bed right after we're home.''

''Consider it done, Sunshine, we can't wait to see you,'' after a few goodbyes and I love you's, you hung up, and Tony managed to get the twins down for a quick nap.

Tony can hear your keys in the lock, and he rushes over to the front door, meeting you there with a big hug. Usually, he would be accompanied by one or both twins, but it's nice to have him all to yourself for a little while.

''Hi Sunshine,'' he says as he wraps his arms around your waist, and you find their home on his neck, and you pull him in for a tender kiss that deepens gradually.

When you pull apart, you're both breathless, and you chuckle softly before giving him one more peck on the lips and heading to your bedroom so you can get changed.

When you're going through your dresses, your eye suddenly falls on a new dark green dress, and you decide to wear it combined with a pair of white Converse and your glasses, too, so you can let your eyes rest a little instead of wearing contacts the entire time.

''I'm going to get the twins ready, okay? You can also get changed because I'm not taking you to the restaurant in those clothes,'' you say as you reference his old shirt and slightly tighter grey sweatpants.

''Might not even make it there if you don't change now,'' you whisper in his ear, simultaneously cupping his bulge in his sweatpants. Tony groans at the sudden feeling of your hand, and his hips buck forward at your touch.

''Fuck, Sunshine, don't tease me like that unless you want to be bent over this fucking counter right now,'' he growls in response, and you can feel your panties dampen at the words.

You decide to let him go for now, a wicked grin spreading across your face as you see him adjust before walking to the bedroom and changing.

Tony opts for a dark outfit today combined with his glasses and gets changed while you get the twins woken up and dressed in cute outfits.

It only takes a little while for all of you to be ready and off to the restaurant, and Tony is driving. When you drive past a bakery, you suddenly remember the ad for the apple picking again.

''Love?'' you say, and Tony squeezes your hand softly before responding.

''Yeah, Sunshine?'' ''Can we go apple picking with the twins soon? There's an event at a nearby apple farm, and I thought it might be cute to take them for the apple picking and some treats as well,''

Tony thinks about it for a short moment and then agrees happily. ''We do need to bring your camera in that case because Mom, Dad, and Virginia are going to want lots of photos!'' he says with a big smile.

The twins are happily babbling away in the backseat as you let yourself sink into your seat, thinking about the new tradition you'll start with your family now.

''Are you excited to pick some apples today, Baby Boy?'' you say as you pick up your sleepy son, and he immediately holds onto your neck as soon as you hold him.

''Someone's still sleepy, huh?'' you coo at him, and you rub your hand over his back, the other one supporting him under his butt as you walk over to Tony, who's changing Orion into her fall outfit.

''Look at you, Baby Girl! You look adorable in your little outfit! But it's time to get your brother into his before we can give you your breakfast together,'' you tell her with a few tickles, and her limbs go wild, earning you a glare from Tony.

''Love you,'' you say with a peck on his cheek.

''Right, let's get you off of here to make room for your brother; I need some more cuddles with my Baby Girl after all,'' Tony says as he picks her up, and she immediately grabs onto his neck, just like Hudson did with you.

When Hudson is changed into his fall outfit, you take him to the kitchen, where Tony is already preparing warm milk for them. It has been quite a change only to breastfeed once daily, but they are used to having their bottle in the morning now.

''Let's get settled on the couch, and Daddy will bring you your milk soon, okay?'' you tell Hudson, and he looks up at you excitedly, warming your heart.

''Here you go!'' Tony says, and Hudson takes it with both hands and brings it to his mouth without a problem, happily drinking the milk while Tony settles next to you and gives the bottle to Orion.

''I can't wait to go apple picking with all of you today, make some amazing memories together, and just spend quality time with you,'' you sigh softly, and you let your head fall onto Tony's shoulder, after which he kisses it.

''I can't wait either, Sunshine,'' he tells you softly, and you close your eyes to take in the moment. Your son on your lap, your daughter on your boyfriend's lap, drinking their milk before going out the door and going apple picking together.

''I love you so much, and I'm eternally grateful for giving me a chance to live the life I've always dreamt of,'' you tell Tony, a single tear escaping that you quickly wipe away.

''I love you too, Sunshine. There's nowhere else I'd rather be than with you and our Munchkins. I should be thanking you, though, for being the perfect woman, girlfriend, and Mom in this world,'' he whispers against your hair, and you two stay like this for a little bit.

When Hudson and Orion are done with their milk, you put the bottles on the table, and your daughter crawls into your lap, wanting to be close to you and her brother.

''Hi Baby Girl, are you coming to cuddle with us for a little bit so Daddy can change?'' you ask her, and she gets settled in your lap after Hudson gracefully makes some room for her.

''Be right back, Sunshine,'' Tony says, and you melt into the back of the couch as your kids cuddle with you, surrounding you with warmth and love.

Tony is wearing a black, white, and red outfit today, his glasses on his nose and hair styled perfectly, and he looks as handsome as ever in his fall outfit. It also helps that you laid it out for him beforehand so he would wear something you'd love.

Now, all that's left is you changing into your outfit for the day, and you're ready to go. Your camera, snacks, drinks, and toys for the kids are packed and ready, too.

''Right, time to pick some apples!'' Tony says before he takes both twins by the hand and lets them walk to the car instead of carrying them this time.

There's a stroller in the car for emergencies, but you don't need it as much anymore, which you're happy about.

The drive is uneventful; the twins are happily babbling away in the backseat, and you and Tony are enjoying the sights and seeing how everything is slowly turning from greens to reds, oranges, and yellows.

His hand is lying on your thigh, and your hand covers it as you talk about everything and nothing, never seeming to run out of things to talk about.

''We're here!'' Tony exclaims with happiness laced in his voice, and before you know it, you're standing at the apple trees; Orion and Hudson are both trying to pluck an apple while you're filming them.

Tony is constantly crouched behind them and encouraging until Orion has her apple picked off the tree, stamping her feet excitedly while letting out some content sounds. These happy noises almost sound like words.

''Good job, Baby Girl! Look at you go!'' Tony says that Hudson also picks his apple off the tree shortly after.

''Wow, great job, Baby Boy! You're doing amazing!'' you say as you keep filming his reactions to pulling off the apple. And you're glad you kept the camera on him because you suddenly hear something unmistakable.

''Apple!'' he exclaims while holding it high in the air, and you and Tony immediately look at one another, checking if the other also heard it. You did. He just said his very first word.

''Did you-'' ''Yeah!'' you say as you try and fight back the tears. You're thrilled you kept filming and caught his first word on camera. This is a great moment; you're nothing short of happy that he's grown up so fast.

The video was quickly shared with his parents and your Mom, and the reactions were nothing short of amazing, as they were all just as happy as the two of you.

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing some games, and sharing a big slice of apple pie with Tony while the kids ate a cup of apple sauce until they fell asleep in your arms, and it was time to go home.

You're glad you took lots of photos with your camera, including a few family photos for your collection, and now you're on your way home again. The twins are in a deep sleep in their seats, and you're smiling like a lovesick idiot.

''I can't believe he said his first word today; he's growing up so fast,'' Tony says, and all you can do is nod in response because if you say anything, you will release a dam of tears you don't know you can stop.

They're growing up so quickly, but you're glad they're a part of your lives like this because it wouldn't be the same without them by your sides.

#flufftober 2023 #day 22 #tony stark #young tony stark #no powers au #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fanfic #tony stark one shot #tony stark imagine #tony stark x female!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark fluff #young tony stark fanfiction #young tony stark fanfic #young tony stark one shot #young tony stark imagine #young tony stark x female reader #young tony stark x reader #young tony stark fluff

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armpirate · 29 days

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Kalla | Choi San || Chapter 5

MASTERLIST Previous || Next

Pairings: CEO!San x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers.

Warnings: dom!San, sub!reader, voyeourism, use of sex toys, bondage, dirty talk, BDSM, exhibitionism, rough sex.

Summary: She was surprised by how fast her life went from the perfect fairytale to the destructive mess it had turned into. Dealing with a cheater ex boyfriend, having to move out to a different place because the house she lived in belonged to that man she once dreamed of spending the rest of her life with, while continuously being underappreciated at work... It was as if life was telling her to stop dreaming big, to go back to her small town, Bibury, and help her parents run the small farm her family had owned for decades.

At least until she received a call from her friend.

A sudden vacancy as an assistant showed up on one of her friend's system, having her being encouraged to take that big step and apply for it. She had no hopes for it. Mainly because she didn't have any experience on the field, and she didn't comply with most of the requirements that were added on the offer -and which most of them sounded ridiculous and exaggerated for the position, making her wonder who was the freak who needed so many guidelines in order to hire someone to pick up the phone and schedule events.

Although that hotel she'd be working on was much more than anything she could've come up with.

Choi San wasn't someone easy to deal with. After his previous assistant presented his resignation letter on his desk, he felt forced to start the whole selection process again -after merely two months.

Sure that he was being way too strict, enough to find that anyone who applied for the position wasn't enough, he asked one of his friends to be in charge of the interviews and the selection of the most adequate candidate.

Little did he know Wooyoung would hire the imperfectly perfect candidate for him, sure that she'd help him in many ways other than just in dealing with the responsibilities of his position.

A new challenge will come their way as soon as she steps inside the hotel.

Y/n will have to learn how to mold onto him and deal with all his small habits and requirements, and San will find himself trying to open up and let out all those same things that turned him into the person he was.

The more she digs in Kalla and all of its secrets and exciting corners, the deeper she'll dive into San's heart and soul... Although, maybe, she won't be able to take it.

Kalla opens its doors to you, sharing the vast amount of filthy and erotic plans it offers, and that you can join with a partner... Or maybe just by yourself.

Hope you enjoy your stay.

Chapter duration: 12 minutes

Avoiding to let her fall asleep, and in a way to keep them both awake, Wooyoung came up with the idea of theoretically guiding Y/n through Kalla, the place where she would be working at, and that had been the perfect place to hide for her future boss, and his best friend. It was also a good way to keep her entertained, going through the most basic formation while they didn't really know what to do for twelve hours in a plane. And opposite to what he could think, Y/n was thankful of the way he took the time to teach her how things worked, taking the time to talk about the people she'd be working with, explaining her tasks in a deeper way and displaying the programs she'd be using so, at least, she'd start getting used to them by sight.

Wooyoung went through absolutely all the things he could, only leaving out one small detail, a tiny thing that shouldn't even be a big deal to her: Choi San. He thought he managed to keep her from even thinking about her boss, but she was only listening carefully to everything he was saying until it seemed like he was done.

—I think you missed an important detail —she started, looking at him—. I know how the hotel is divided, who leads each team, where will I need to go and who will I need to talk to according to any issue Mr Choi will want me to deal with in his name, but you gave no information about said person that will be requesting those things from me.

—Didn't I say anything about him? —he scratched his neck nervously, trying to earn some time as he tried to think of an excuse to evade the question again.

—Is he as tough as you're trying to make him seem? —she joked, closing her small notebook, sneaking the pen inside the spiral that linked all the sheets together.

—He's not tough. Just... demanding.

And harsh. And fussy. And a bit moody.

Of course he couldn't say he had already lost three assistants in the span of three years, or how most of the people in Seoul took back their job application as soon as they knew the company they'd be working for, and the person that would be in charge. The name of Choi San, along with the scandal the hotel went through not even two years back made it difficult for them to get locals employees to agree to work with him.

The word spread fast in that city, and San didn't seem to care, until he felt forced to hire someone from a different country.

—Hmm okay. But are there things I shouldn't do? Or things I shouldn't say?

—Just keep it like you're with me, but with more distance. And don't speak unless he allows you to. Don't talk with anyone from the hotel unless he tells you to. He actually doesn't really want his assistant to be too linked to Kalla's business.

—So he doesn't want me to have nothing to do with anyone from the hotel, yet I'll be spending most of my time there—she replied back.

—I think I didn't explain myself well —he tried to start all over again.

—He doesn't want you to take over any tasks that have something to do with reception, for example. You're there to assist him, not to work in the hotel —Wooyoung explained—. That same way, he doesn't want you to take demands from anyone else in the team that isn't him. Regardless of how high their position is, you're above them. You're San's right hand, which means you should be above all the staff in the hotel, but at the same time, you have no say in how they do their work.

—I get it. They're two completely different jobs. And if it weren't because he loves staying in that hotel, he'd be working from home or in an independent office. Am I right?

—Pretty much —Wooyoung nodded, smiling as he analyzed each one of the things she said—. Just do your work, follow what he says, and you'll be fine.

—What about Korean?

—What about it?

—I don't speak it —she mentioned as if it were obvious.

She spoke it? Not really. But did she understand it? She could watch content in that language without needing any subtitled support to understand it, but still some words and meanings escaped her understanding.

—Leave that to me —Wooyoung assured her—. We'll facilitate some courses so you get used to the language. And you'll start using it unconsciously during work, I'm sure of that. You'll see how fast it'll seem like you've spoken Korean all of your life —he sighed when he was aware of the way her eyes shifted to the window, playing with her fingers nervously on her lap—. I already told you most of the customers, and most of the suppliers are from foreign countries, so you'll be using English most of the time. Just do a good job, and San will have no reason to complain. But don't push yourself either. The first few weeks will be hard, which is obvious. Take it more as an adaptation period, rather than the first week of work.

—So, what is the daily work there?

Wooyoung pressed his lips together, trying to find a way to explain her he didn't actually work in the hotel itself, and the only things he knew were because San explained it to him, or because he read them on the documents that were sent to some of the applicants so they could get an idea of the job position.

—It's calm —he lied—. Like any other hotel —he shrugged—. San stays in his office, and barely bothers anyone —he lied again—. I guess you'll have your own desk, but I don't remember if it's inside his office, or if there was another office prior to his to give a first filter to his visits —Wooyoung tried to remember.

—You don't work there? —Y/n asked surprised.

—I used to —Wooyoung sighed.

And thank god it ended. He was really tempted to end the ten-year friendship he had with San over strict he was sometimes.

—I worked as the event planner for a while, then got promoted to team leader, then to manager, and then I left —he shrugged his shoulders—. It was a good experience, but I'm better working at my own rhythm. The only reason why I did the interviews is because I know San better than anyone else, and let's say I'm the only person he trusts enough to let me choose who will be his right hand and get them to sign a contract.

She was aware of how crazy it all was when she realized she was on her way to Seoul, after signing a contract three days back, and without knowing if she would pass the trial period of three months, or if she'd end up having to get back home after two days in Korea. She didn't think about the situation she was in until Wooyoung mentioned the contract, and she remembered nothing was set in stone, and everything could change, especially after hearing those several descriptions of that man.

If he was as tough as he was described, Y/n didn't even need to get off the plane. Just one step in Korean ground, one look at her, and it'd be enough for him to know that she wasn't what he was looking for.

She was so damned.

—And that's why you should feel lucky I'm with you on this flight —he continued—. Because I'll be giving you all the tips you might need to receive a good first impression from him.

—Wait —she stopped him.

Wooyoung followed the movements of her hands, sneaking inside her jacket to bring out her phone. She looked up to him again, letting him know she was ready for that little class on how to be the best assistant.

—Although he's the owner, he stays around for quite long. He even spends a lot of nights in one of the rooms —he grimaced—, so it's not surprising he usually wears clothes that fit the uniform of the staff in the hotel. You know, a vest, a white shirt, clothing pants... that stuff —Y/n noted that down, although that wasn't the main point of the explanation—. He considers people working in the hotel to be the image of it, and so he is. Just like staff are the face of the hotel, you're somehow a representation of him when he can't deal with customers or partners at the moment. Your appearance has to be as neat as possible. Not a single wrinkle on shirts, good scent, extremely good hygiene, not excessive makeup, but also not a lack of it, good posture... sit straight —Wooyoung called her out.

Almost instantly, her back straightened, feeling a bit taller right after.

—A calm tone, a decisive attitude... —he tilted his head, trying to think of more— Now that we're getting to the attitude: be nice, but distant enough so you don't make anyone feel uncomfortable, be serious, but always with a smile on your face, be responsible, and try to be ahead of San's need, but don't cross any boundaries.

She hadn't even started working, yet she could already feel completely exhausted as she tried to imagine how to get all those things to work out in the best way all together.

—He loves punctuality. He's usually there at seven, so I'd recommend you show up ten minutes earlier, and leave ten minutes later than he does. Organization is also quite an important deal for him, he gets easily stressed when things are messy —Y/n nodded, relieved to finally be hearing some normal instructions—. Documentation is really important for him, and this is really serious: Do not touch any papers, any folders, nothing, unless he tells you first. If he needs you to work with anything, he'll most likely leave it on your desk so you don't touch anything.

Punctuality, organization and obedience. She for sure could do all of them without a problem. They were probably the easiest of all the things Wooyoung mentioned, and all of the things he later mentioned.

Every moment from then went by fast, almost if she had blinked through all of the trip until she felt the bumping of the airplane as it landed on the airport.

Even if Wooyoung had assured her she wouldn't be meeting San until the next day, because the trip was too long and draining, and she'd rather be at her best when she finally meets her future boss. As much as she wanted to show off how ready she was to work, she agreed with him. There was no way she'd face that demanding man while wearing a pair of jeans and a comfortable hoodie that she had always worn whenever she traveled -which wasn't a lot of times either.

She also thought she'd need a lot of me to get through all of the information Wooyoung displayed to her earlier during the flight. It was a good idea to prepare herself by using all of those points.

He wasn't the type to put the people he worked with in a tough situation, but he loved seeing that the work was well done. San was careful with details, being sure that the smallest mistake could have a big impact. But it made sense for him. It took him so long to establish the hotel, to get the public back on it again with the same level of trust, that he didn't want any issues risking what it took him so hard to get back. It wasn't only the public, investors also had all of their eyes on him. They all trusted him when he first presented the project, and they kept backing him up when things got tough. He had a bigger responsibility to get it all to work out in the neatest way possible.

As he walked past one of the receptionists, he noticed how one of the laces of his shoes was longer than the other, unable to ignore it and quickly pointing it up.

—Jae Sung, the shoes. Tie them well —he first said.

It only took that boy to be a bit more distracted than usual, as that lace got a bit longer with every step, to end up tripping and falling on the floor. If he could avoid someone getting hurt, why wouldn't he?

—Yes, sir —the brunette quickly mentioned, bending over to tie his shoelaces again.

San had just come out of one of the most boring and longest meetings with one of the investors, surprised at the old man choosing to show up there, when they usually just met monthly with the rest of investors that participated in the hotel as much as he did. It wasn't a relevant meeting either, he tried to wonder what was the reason behind analyzing all the production numbers they had already reviewed two weeks back. It was a useless and stupid meeting, a perfect way to waste his time, but it wasn't like he had the possibility to say those things directly to Park Ki Tae.

—Your father called a few times asking for you —Young Ja mentioned as he approached the long counter of the reception.

If he called the hotel, he most likely called directly his private number. And he indeed did. As soon as San unlocked the screen, he could see the way his father's name showed up at the top several times, with the phone icon, but also with the kakaotalk one.

If he had an assistant already, he probably would be already giving them a headache instead of taking over all of the lines made for customers and their inquiries, rather than his annoying and useless petitions.

Just thinking about having to have that talk with him again was making him groan and throw his head back in discomfort.

He didn't say anything else, he just stepped away, walking calmly to one of the corridors at the opposite side of stairs -crowned with the big calla flower- to start making his way to his office.

Although maybe he could make a quick stop to the room he usually reserved for him only, for the days he was too tired to even get in his car and drive to his apartment.

There was a lady right in front of the elevator that would take him to the side of the hotel where that room was, only being able to see her hair waving in the air as she spoke. It was as if she was making up for being unable to move the hand holding the phone.

She gave him a small bow, before she continued speaking.

—That man sounds like the biggest freak —he heard her speaking—. I even doubt he won't be bothered by the way I breathe, at this point —she complained in English—. The things I can or cannot do are longer than the contract itself. It's nuts —she huffed, scoffing shortly after to continue—. He sounds like the typical old fat man with a superiority complex, who torments the people that work for him because nothing fulfills him in his daily life. I swear some people should go to the therapist before ruling a whole team by themselves.

Whoever she was talking about, that man was probably having his whole body in pain by the way she spoke about him. That person sounded like a big douchebag but, at the same time, San could understand that way to act.

When the metallic doors of the elevator opened, he saw a serious Wooyoung, who quickly smiled when he was aware of him.

—I went up looking for you —he informed.

It was surprising how fresh and energetic he seemed, despite having gone through a long flight from London to Seoul that had landed not that long ago -he could bet.

Wooyoung turned to the woman that was next to him, and who quickly hung up on the phone as soon as she was aware of his presence. By the way he smiled and pointed at her, San could already have an idea of who she was.

And she wasn't starting the best way.

Y/n turned to him, finding a tall attractive man looking at her with a serious and harsh expression. He was intimidating at first, piercing into her eyes as Wooyoung spoke.

—She is Y/n, the girl I told you about —Wooyoung introduced her—. And Y/n, he is San.

She could feel the way her blood stopped running through her veins as he introduced the man in front of him with that name.

Choi S... San?

—Or like you'd say: the old fat man that needs a therapist —he coldly added.

She for sure felt like she wouldn't even need to unpack her bags. Most probably she'd be sent back to England before she could say another word.

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taleweaver-ramblings · 2 years

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Inklings Challenge 2022: The Remnant

It's ten minutes 'til midnight, but it's still October 21, so I am ON TIME. You hear that, @inklings-challenge? It's fine. We're fine. This is somewhat less polished than I would like it to be, but hopefully it'll be ok.

Musical quotations are from Newgrange, Níl Sé’n Lá, and The Voice, all by Celtic Woman. Enjoy!

~~~~~~

I came by a house last night and told the woman I am staying. I said to her, "The moon is bright, and my fiddle’s tuned for playing"

The Golden Moon Inn was full when the stranger strode in, on the night when the rest of the world ended. Brennan didn’t notice her arrival — it seemed that everyone in town, from the poorest farmer to the mayor himself, had braved the wind and rain to visit, and every one of them wanted a drink. Their requests kept him running back and forth behind the taproom’s bar, pulling one drink after another: nutty golden-brown ale, stiff amber whiskey, fresh-squeezed juices, rich honeyed mead, and, of course, glass upon glass of sweet apple wine.

No, Brennan’s first glimpse of the stranger was when he turned to greet yet another customer and found himself caught by a pair of pair of eyes as dark and bottomless and as prone to knock a man cold as a full cask of hundred-year Southgrove Red. Had Brennan a bard’s tongue, he would’ve said those eyes were so deep that stars could get lost in them, and so knowing that one wondered if they had predated those same stars. Had Brennan a scholar’s mind, he would have known just what kind of person eyes like those usually came attached to.

But Brennan had a farmer’s tongue and an inn-hand’s mind. So instead he gaped like a fish until the stranger’s voice brought him back to reality. “Is there a glass of apple wine to spare, Mr. Braeburn?”

Brennan shook himself, pulling himself together. “Always, lady.” And she was a lady, he was sure. She held herself like a general surveying a battlefield, and though her clothes were travel-worn and of a foreign, fluttering style, they were brightly hued and shone dully in the light in a way that the homespun, linen, and wool that marked the locals’ wardrobes never could. “Just a min.”

He turned, fetched a glass from beneath the counter, and filled it from one of the casks along the back wall. The apple wine was the Moon’s specialty. It had never run out, Mistress Fellworth said, not in all the years her family had owned the place, and it wouldn’t do so under her watch. Every autumn, she and her staff laid down a dozen barrels in the cellar to mature; in a week or two, they’d prepare this year’s batch. But it always went too fast to be worth bottling, except when a customer brought their own bottle and paid for it to be filled.

Brennan passed the glass across the bar to the stranger. “By the by, lady, if I can ask, how know you my name? I’ve not seen your face afore.”

The lady held the glass under her nose, breathing in the scent, and then gave Brennan a strange and secretive smile. “I couldn’t miss one of Joli Braeburn’s boys. You look very like him.”

Well, how did she know that? When Brennan’s thrice-great grandfather had lived, the town had been a nowhere-place still, just a cluster of farms, and the inn had been naught but a house large enough to have rooms to rent to people passing through — though even then, the Fellworths had made their apple wine, and people had visited for the express purpose of drinking it. But before Brennan could ask, Mistress Fellworth herself bustled up to him. “Bren! You hear me — the lady and her fiddle are our entertainment for the night. You see that she doesn’t go thirsty.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Brennan gave a heavy nod. By the time he turned around again, the lady was gone. But two mugs of beer, a glass of whiskey, and a pewter cup of juice later, he heard the woman begin to play —

And time slowed down.

~~*~~*~~*~~

There is a place on the east; a mysterious ring, a magical ring of stones. The druids lived here once, they said; forgotten is the race that no one knows

This landscape was far too pretty. It was hard to believe that it was host to the only major concentration of magic south of the Shiftlands — and yet, somewhere in these rolling green hills was just that.

Alessa shifted in her seat, watching out the auto’s windows as the vehicle rolled along the bumpy dirt road. Apparently, pavement hadn’t made it out this far from the cities yet. Apple orchards covered many of the hills; supposedly, they produced the finest crop in the land, though people said the process of removing residual magic from them dulled the taste a bit. They’d been here even before the Magistorm, and they were among the first things to regrow in the wake of its passing.

No one knew exactly how they’d survived so well. Very few people had bothered to try to find out. Most students of history and magic preferred to focus on the problem of the Shiftlands, seeking to understand what had caused it to become what it was so the land could be reclaimed. Very few people cared to study its far less problematic cousin.

A shimmer on the horizon drew Alessa’s attention to the way ahead. She glanced at the driver, a square-built man with a face that looked like it had been passed down through a dozen generations. “Is that —"

His mouth worked the words over several times before releasing them. “Aye. We’re near there now.”

Alessa sat up straighter in her seat, watching eagerly, straining for the first glimpse of what she’d come here for. She was rewarded a moment later, as they crested a hill and the Remnant appeared.

At first, it looked like nothing at all, just a heat shimmer in the air. But the longer Alessa looked, the more she could make out its outer bounds. It rose like a column, ground to sky, a good fifty feet around, blurrily reflecting its surroundings and shimmering where the sunlight went through it. It certainly wasn’t as impressive as anything you’d find up north, where the residual magic made the ground roll like waves beneath your feet and burst up in deadly geysers of power, where the landscape could shift from barren wasteland to deadly jungle in a blink. All the same, it was there.

The car went over one more hill and then stopped at its base. “You’ll have to walk from here,” the driver announced. “Any closer and we’ll break down.”

“Understood. Thank you, sir.” Alessa fished in her skirt pocket for a coin and passed it over. “Will you help me unload my things?”

“Aye.” The driver and Alessa clambered out and circled around to the boot. The driver lifted out Alessa’s bag and her three crates of tools and supplies with a grunt. “You certain about camping out here? There’s a fair inn in town.”

“I’m sure.” Alessa pushed more confidence into her voice than she felt. “I’ve roughed it on the moors before, and at least for the first week, I need easy access to the Remnant.”

“If you say so,” the man grumbled. “I’ll be out this way tomorrow morning, so I’ll stop and see if you change your mind.”

“Much obliged, sir.” She was not much obliged. But it was the polite thing to say. She waited for him to make a few last remarks and drive away. Then she dug notebook, pens, and camera out of one of her bags and approached the Remnant.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Tell me that the night is long; tell me that the moon is glowing. Fill my glass, I'll sing a song, and will start the music flowing

Brennan had never seen the town in such a merry mood, not even on a holiday — nor had he ever seen someone play so well and so long as the stranger.

She danced as she played, weaving through the room, and people danced with her, swinging each other ‘round and laughing. Those too old or too tired to dance sang along, lending voices rough with labor to fill out the choir that the golden-tongued fiddle led. The tapping of feet on the floor and the beat of mugs on tables provided the rhythm, and several people had pulled out pipes and pennywhistles to play along. They traded out one song to the next, but the stranger never stopped. Her songs flowed off the strings like wine into a glass, smooth and rich.

Brennan wasn’t sure how she was doing it. He’d yet to see her stop for a drink, though people had brought her glass back to be filled more than once. And she’d not stopped to eat either, not properly. Instead, she called for a plate of cut-up chunks of cheese and ham and bread and made a show of spearing them with her bow on one stroke and popping them in her mouth on another. It couldn’t have been much fuel to go on, not with how she’d never once stopped moving since she raised her bow. And yet!

He filled another two glasses with apple wine, tilting the cask forward to drain out the last drops. He’d have to go downstairs and fetch another. It would be the second tonight, though the first had been near-empty to start.

Brennan glanced at the clock sitting behind the bar. It hadn’t chimed since the stranger arrived — or perhaps he’d just not heard it amid all the noise. The hands had moved all the same, pointing nearly to midnight now.

He drew another mug of beer and passed it across the bar, then edged down to Mistress Fellworth. “About time for closing, isn’t it?”

Mistress Fellworth shook herself as if she’d been in a trance. “Ay, what’s that?”

Brennan nodded at the clock. “Closing time?”

Mistress Fellworth glanced over the crowd, regret written heavily over her face. “Aye, I suppose . . .”

A blink and the stranger was before them, though Brennan could’ve sworn she was across the room before. “Stay open, if you will. Stay until my fingers are weary and until your guests are ready to leave.”

For a moment, Mistress Fellworth seemed about to nod. Then she squinted at the stranger. “What manner o’ trick are you about, then? Who’s to say your fingers are going to wish to stop?”

“’Til the morning, then,” the stranger replied, calm as could be, her fingers still plucking a melody and her bow tucked under her arm. “Until I and your guests are tired, or until the morning sun rises, whichever is first. Is that to your liking?”

“That’ll do.” Mistress Fellworthy nodded. “The daylight will show well enough if it’s no good you’re about.”

The stranger smiled again, though her eyes seemed suddenly sorrowful. “I mean no evil, Mistress Fellworthy. Wait for the dawn and you’ll see.”

Then she danced into the crowd, raised fiddle to her chin and set bow to strings once more, and the songs flowed on.

~~*~~*~~*~~

"Listen, my child," you say to me, "I am the voice of your history. Be not afraid, come follow me; answer my call, and I'll set you free"

At the top of the Remnant, you could see the stars.

Alessa had noticed this three days and fifty pages into her study of the phenomenon. Most of the Remnant reflected its surroundings, albeit in a blurry, watery sort of way, with occasional ghostly wisp of else blended in. But if you looked up, up, up to the very top, a patch of night sky was visible, and in it, you could see stars.

She had, of course, started tracking their positions. One theory held that the Remnant was a sort of defunct portal to another realm, and so the stars might be from some other world. But if they were, it was a very stagnant world, for they’d not moved an inch in the month she’d been here.

She’d learned a number of things in that month, as the apples ripened and the leaves turned from green to gold. She’d learned that the Remnant was as strongly magical as anywhere in the Shiftlands, something that had sent her double- and triple- and quadruple-checking her equipment and then to review the textbooks she’d dragged along to make sure she’d not misread. A magical concentration of this level should have made the surrounding region uninhabitable, and yet a day never passed without Alessa seeing a farmer or a farmer’s children or a group of orchard-workers go by.

She supposed it had to do with the nature of the magic, and the way it all seemed to be bound up in this spot. That was something else she’d noticed. Her textbooks were all very insistent that magic was like boiling water. It couldn’t stay still. It would move and bubble and try to spread out, changing form as easily as man changed his hat. But the Remnant stayed placidly where and as it was.

Perhaps, she sometimes thought, in the late hours of the night, it was all still doing something, and that was why it wasn’t wrecking havoc. But for it to be still in use, for it to still have a spell directing it, there would have to be a living wizard to wield it. And the last of the wizards had died out in the conflict that produced the Magistrom.

Many of her other findings simply confirmed what she’d already known. You couldn’t touch the Remnant; even in the proper protective gear, your hand would turn away. If you tried to go through it, you’d find yourself abruptly walking the other direction the moment before you passed its surface. Objects thrown at it seemed to either vanish or disintegrate — Alessa had yet to figure out which. Animals wouldn’t go near it, though they didn’t seem alarmed by it.

And all around its border were great, smooth-sided stones, with a crust of grey that could be brushed away to reveal a shimmering opal surface. Reports told of similar stone in the Shiftlands, great mounded towers of it. Scientists hypothesized that it was the leavings of spent magic, that it was left behind in the same way that calcium deposits were left in a teakettle by boiling water. As they were only found here and in the Shiftlands, that hypothesis seemed quite likely true. Trying to cut away the stone, however, simply left the cut section to turn to grey dust that blew off in the wind before Alessa could run any useful tests on it.

Of course, she didn't spend all her time at the Remnant. She hailed passing workers and trekked out to nearby farms to talk to the locals. Many an afternoon found her helping a farm wife with chores in exchange for information, and many an evening saw her sitting at the dinner table of those farmwives, enjoying a good meal as she questioned the farmers and fieldhands. And once a week, the driver who’d brought her out from the train station would return and drive her into town to restock supplies and speak with anyone willing to have a conversation.

Most of them, she found, had little enough to say about the Remnant. It was a fact of life for them, hardly worth remarking on. It interfered with no farmwork, killed no animals, and created no disturbance. It had always been there. It always would be there. Alessa tried bringing up the issue of magical contamination of crops and livestock, but those she spoke with laughed off her concerns. The Remnant wasn’t like the Shiftlands, they said. If it were going to cause anycone harm, it would have done so long ago. True, they had to process away the residual magic in any crop they wished to ship away. But for their own use, the Remnant’s influence did no harm, and a few old grandfathers swore up and down that the magic helped the plants grow, helped produce larger and better fruit.

And, indeed, the people who dwelt by the Remnant ate apples off the tree and tomatoes off the vine without fear. Alessa gradually worked up the courage to do so as well, when the trees nearest her camp ripened to irresistible perfection. For the first week, she monitored herself carefully for symptoms of arcane corruption. After that, though, she learned to love the extra crispness and sweetness that the magical influence seemed to bring. And the flavor only added to her suspicions. Untamed magic corrupted — but why should not a magic directed for some good improve everything around it?

~~*~~*~~*~~

Don't go out into the cold, where the wind and rain are blowing, For the fire is flaming gold, and in here the music's flowing.

Far away, far to the north, a storm was coming to a head. In cities and towers, wizards prepared the first and last spells of a war that had been going on in secret for centuries. Soon, that war would be a secret no more, though the wizards had no idea just how much of an effect their clashing spells would have.

But in the Golden Moon, the stranger still played. Brennan couldn’t make out what was odder: that he wasn’t tired, or that she wasn’t. Midnight, one, two in the morning had come and gone, and more than a few guests had purchased rooms in the inn to sleep off their drink and merriment. Yet she never stilled, never stopped, never slowed. Every time Brennan thought she’d reached the end of all songs ever written, she produced one more, or else a guest called out a request for her to play something again. And she did so, unwearyingly.

And something in her tirelessness must have been catching, for Brennan felt no more inclination towards his bed than he had at the evening’s start. Neither, it seemed, did Mistress Fellworth, nor any of the inn’s staff. The remaining guests, too, were unusually alert and cheerful for this hour. Many still sang. A few still danced.

But not all were so affected. As the stranger slid from one song to another, old Farmer Martin stood and gathered his family and farmhands. He tipped his hat to his friends and started towards the door.

The stranger was at his side seemingly without moving — or perhaps she’d already been there, and no one had quite realized it. “Stay,” she said, and though her voice was quiet, the whole inn could hear. “Stay, good man, if you will.”

Farmer Martin gave a rough shake of his head. “It’s another day of harvest tomorrow, lass. Better to work on a few hours of sleep than none at all.”

“Stay,” she said again, fingers plucking her violin strings in a melody as sweet as a summer’s afternoon and as sticky as a spider’s web. “Stay, I pray you. The night is wet, and the wind roars outside. Stay and sing by the fire. Or if sleep you must, do so here, and I’ll pay for a room for you, since you remain on my behalf. Stay till dawn, I beg you.”

Brennan saw the old man waver. Then, with a nod, he turned away from the door. “Till dawn, then, though I imagine I’ll take you up on that offer of a room. But if I’m to stay up, I’ll need another drink. Braeburn!”

“Yes, sir.” Brennan took the proffered glass and refilled it with apple wine. He had to tip the cask again, though there were still a few more drinks in it, by the feel. Sooner rather than later, he’d need to bring up a fresh cask.

Far away, the wizards cast their first spells.

~~*~~*~~*~~

I am the voice of the past that will always be Filled with my sorrow and blood in my fields.

One chilly night, the Remnant locals introduced Alessa to apple wine.

She sipped the sweet drink, barely noticing the slight sting of alcohol beneath the fizz of magic, and listened as they told her of its history. Apple wine had always been made in these parts, they said. It was as old as the orchards themselves. And while it could no longer be shipped across the realm — removing magic from the apples made them too expensive to be used for wine — it was still a local favorite.

Of course, the locals told her, even their best wasn’t as good as it had been before the Magistorm. In those days, it had been the specialty of an inn called the Golden Moon and a family called the Fellworthies, or so the stories said. But inn and family both had been lost in the aftermath of the wizards’ war, along with the rest of the village. As far as anyone could tell, the village had been centered on the Remnant’s current location, though no trace of it remained.

A pity, the locals said, and laughed. A pity, but at least today’s wine was still good.

A pity, Alessa echoed, and drank her wine, and wondered.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Fill the glasses one more time, and never heed the empty bottle! Turn the water into wine, and turn the party up full throttle.

The last cask of apple wine was half gone. Brennan rocked it on its stand, feeling the liquid within slosh back and forth. How had the crowd drunk so much? Or perhaps the better question was, how had the wine lasted so long, with all the town calling for it over and over again?

Mistress Fellworth joined him at the barrel. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re nearly out.” Brennan kept his voice low enough that the crowd wouldn’t hear. “This is all we’ve left to sell.”

Now it was Mistress Fellworth’s turn to rock the barrel. For a moment, her face was dark and distant. Then her expression hardened. “Water it down as much as you can. Half the crowd is probably drunk enough they won’t know the difference. Stop when there’s a cup or two left. We’ll have to close then, whatever our player says.”

There was a soft gasp from somewhere. Brennan glanced back in time to see the stranger stumble. But she recovered and spun back into her song with a laugh. He turned back to Mistress Fellworth. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”

With that, he trekked down to the cellar yet again, returning with a cask of drinking water. He hoisted it onto a stand next to the wine and hammered in a tap. He held a glass beneath and turned the nozzle.

Golden apple wine, as fair-smelling as the best of the Golden Moon’s vintage, flowed out.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Wait for the sun on a winter's day, and a beam of light shines across the floor. Mysterious ring, a magical ring; forgotten is the race that no one knows.

The last of the year’s harvest was picked, and the first frost laid thick on the ground as Alessa circled the Remnant yet again. The latest shipment of scientific supplies from the university had included a set of arcane detection goggles, and wearing them, she could clearly see the threads of magic running off the Remnant into the orchard, bright as streams of water.

Perhaps the old men had been right. The magic flowed in the core of each tree, and in every branch and twig. Perhaps it was helping the trees grow. Perhaps it had always done so. Perhaps that was how the groves had regrown so quickly after the Magistorm. Perhaps the Remnant had preserved them.

But why? And . . . Alessa looked back towards the Remnant, studying it as best she could. With the goggles on, it was almost like looking into the sun, but she thought she could see a sort of pattern — and beyond that, a shape. A building, maybe, large as a city inn.

Alessa pulled off the goggles, and the Remnant went back to normal. Maybe she should check again if anyone knew of any records from the time before the Magistorm. If she could find out exactly what had stood where the Remnant was . . .

A shift in the sky pulled her away from her thoughts. Alessa looked up with a gasp.

At the top of the Remnant, the stars were fading.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Tell me that the night is long. Tell me that the moon is gleaming. Fill my glass, I'll sing a song, and we'll keep the music streaming Until all the songs are sung.

Dawn came in a flash, in the same moment that the songs stopped.

The sudden cease of music was nearly deafening. Brennan stood, stock-still, blinking in the light that suddenly flowed in the windows, wondering if he were going mad. A few feet away, Mistress Fellworthy swayed on her feet, staring dazedly.

A murmur swept through the guests, confused and then panicked. Questions were thrown here and there, but what happened was repeated the most, over and over again.

What had happened? Brennan glanced at the clock as if it would give him answers — but it had stopped long ago, though its pendulum still swung slow and useless behind the glass. Mistress Fellworth had begun to mutter as well, grumbling about a headache and how she shouldn’t have stayed up so late.

There was something wrong with the light, Brennan realized. It was — different. Too green. And the air tingled with the absence of . . . something.

Where had the stranger gone? Surely she could explain. But when Brennan looked around, he could see her nowhere at all. Had she slipped out already? Ducked away amidst the crowd’s confusion?

She couldn’t have gone far. He went to the door and threw it open. And then he stopped.

There was no street outside. No village. Just rolling hills and apple orchards — and, some twenty feet away, a girl in strange but serviceable-looking clothes standing and staring at the inn like she’d never seen it before. She looked nothing like the stranger, but he called out to her anyway, “Hello?”

“Hello,” she called back, and then took several careful steps forward. When nothing stopped her, she picked up her skirts and ran to the inn. “Is this — is this the Golden Moon Inn?”

“Aye, where else would it be?” Brennan looked around again, hoping against hope that the village would appear. “What’s become of the rest of our place, then?”

“It’s . . . It’s a very long story.” The girl shook her head. “I’m not sure you’ll believe it. I’m not sure I know all of it, but maybe you can help me.”

“I’ll be glad enough to try.” Brennan held out a hand. “Brennan Braeburn, miss.”

“I’m Alessa Foxwood.” She shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Same to you, miss.” Brennan took one last look around, then turned to re-enter the inn. “Come on then. Let’s have a drink, and we’ll see if we can’t answer each other’s questions.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan.” And inside Alessa went, as the last of the Remnant faded into the soil and the sky.

~~*~~*~~*~~

I am the voice of the future. Bring me your peace — Bring me your peace, and my wounds, they will heal.

They never found the stranger. But they found her fiddle and its bow, still warm to the touch and tingling with magic. Later, when all was revealed, they would hang the instrument in a place of honor above the Golden Moon’s hearth.

But for now, bow and fiddle sat on a table in the center of the taproom, while the Golden Moon’s occupants listened in mingled awe and horror as Alessa told them of the world outside — of the wizards’ war and the Magistorm that swept across the land in its wake and of thousands of years passing by afterwards. Many of them thought of their homes and farms and wondered what would become of them, now that they had nothing but the others within the inn. Many of them thought of what would have become of them had they not been at the inn, and they blessed the stranger in their hearts for convincing them to come in the days before and for not letting them leave that night.

It was Alessa who discovered at last who the stranger had been. In the days after the Remnant faded, she requested any records, any papers, anything of note that the Golden Moon had so she could copy them out and preserve them. Records from before the Magistorm were few and far between, and she would pass up no opportunity to find more.

Mistress Fellworth was willing enough to comply in exchange for Alessa’s help in establishing relations with the local farmers — though all her casks of water had been filled with good wine, she had the future to think of, and she’d need to lay out twice as many barrels as she normally did. So Alessa spoke with the farmers and was rewarded with a box of papers to go through. Among them was a sketch, carefully preserved between the pages of an old book, of a woman whose face made Brennan gasp. That was her, he said, the stranger who’d played that night, though she was younger in the picture, and her eyes not yet so deep and knowing.

Alessa turned the picture over. Melanie Fellworth, age 19, the back said, and the family tree buried deeper in the box recorded that name: a daughter of the long-ago Fellworth who’d turned the farm into a proper inn. While Melanie’s siblings had stayed, Melanie herself had left home and traveled far away to seek her fortune and an education in magic.

“She must have been one of Melanie’s descendants,” Alessa suggested, setting picture and family tree aside and returning to the original book.

But Brennan thought of the stranger’s endless eyes and the way she’d spoken of his thrice-great grandfather. “No. It was her, herself.”

Alessa shrugged, and agreed that it might be so. Wizards were said to have been very long-lived, after all. Perhaps it had been Melanie herself. Perhaps she had returned to her home on the eve of its destruction to save the family she’d left behind so long ago. If it was, it was surely her magic that had made the Remnant, that had kept the Golden Moon safe and preserved through the centuries.

Brennan nodded at this, thinking of the wine in the water casks and the way the stranger had swayed just before that moment. She had to be a Fellworth, he agreed. For the wine still flowed, and it would flow still for many years to come.

#inklings challenge #inklingschallenge #team tolkien #genre: secondary world #genre: time travel #(sorta anyway)#imagery: wine #taleweaver writes #my writing #short story #short fiction

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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Goofball Iolite Hospital and Dreamlight Valley Antics

why? Because I have been playing Dreamlight Valley while my shoulder recovers, and I made my character in that game Aluminum. So these silly scenarios of how my characters would act in Dreamlight Valley wriggled into my brain like worms.

TW: Brief mentions of Chronic Illness and Swearing

Aluminum, Dr. Cogsworth, Derek, Baxter, Maya and Johnny Doe would all probably share the same house, arguing with one another over who gets the bed until they can afford to buy enough for everyone. Well, Maya and Johnny would probably just stay to the sidelines, alongside Derek, because they are content to all snuggle up on the floor, mainly because Derek is like a pillow. Derek doesn't mind being a pillow. Aluminum would fistfight for the bed, though, and suffer because he needs complete silence and darkness to sleep, and Baxter snores up a storm. Dr. Cogsworth doesn't really care, being able to stay up all night as long as he is wound up, and Baxter sometimes wakes up to Cogsworth staring at him while he sleeps, only to hear him say something both random and concerning, like "Mickey is standing outside our door, again." This then causes Baxter to be unable to sleep for the rest of the night, due to an intense fear of Mickey Mouse.

The group would be absolutely feral compared to the rest of Dreamlight Valley. Aluminum would probably introduce himself to new villagers by saying something along the lines of "Hello! I'm Aluminum! I'm chronically ill!" Only for the other person to already feel overwhelmed by the over sharing. Dr. Cogsworth would feel naturally drawn to Wall-E, because they are both robots. Wall-E might feel a bit reminded of AUTO due to how Dr. Cogsworth tries to always go by systems and rules, while holding a cold outer shell, but might warm up depending on how their interactions go. Meanwhile, Baxter is flirting with the villains, both unaware and not caring that they are villains. Meanwhile, Maya keeps embarrassing him by acting like a goofball, with the intention of ruining his chances to protect him from said villains.

Johnny would hang out at Remy's, not ordering any food, and just bringing in piles of clay and eating them off of the fancy plates he has. He would also beg Derek and Dr. Cogsworth to buy him clothes from Scrooge so he can gnaw on them when stressed. The entire town is also concerned about Johnny's forgetfulness, thinking he might be more susceptible to the night thorns, only to calm down when it is explained that he has short-term memory loss and it isn't the night thorns. Derek would heavily enjoy farming all day, finding that it reminds him of his home world.

I can totally see Aluminum trying to farm, only for some random villager to walk through it on accident, causing him to suddenly burst out in anger. Like, Mother Gothel would walk on through his lettuce garden only to suddenly hear him screaming "YOU!!! HOW DARE YOU YOU LITTLE-" then it turns into a ten minute long tirade full of pure rage and curses. Derek would have to pick him up and take him inside, wrapping him in blankets and giving him something to chew on to release him stress.

Dr. Cogsworth would end up just marching into Remy's and giving him a long list of what each member of the group can and cannot eat, only to absolutely overwhelm him as he explains how Aluminum is allergic to a bunch of things, without knowing what exactly they are. It does give Remy an interesting challenge of trying to make safe to eat foods for them, though, as well as making a small bond between them as he teaches Dr. Cogsworth the safe recipes and asks for any feedback the others give on them. He even tries to remake the other foods on his menu to be safe, so they can enjoy them, too.

Baxter likes to hang out of the beach, trying to learn how to swim. He also likes to catch random fish and just... eat them raw, right after catching them, to the horror of those who happen to see him doing so. Ursula and Ariel would end up having to save him from drowning as he pushes himself too hard as he tries to teach himself to swim in an attempt to impress whoever he's decided to crush on that day. He'd then have to explain that, as a landshark, he doesn't actually know how to swim, but wants to learn how to do so to become closer with his shark ancestors.

Freaking Dr. Cogsworth learns that he has this weird, natural gift for dancing and playing music when he hangs out with Kristoff. The catch is, he can only play and dance waltzes. He can play Masquerade Suite Waltz by Khachaturian off the top of his head on any instrument, but ask him to play Mary had a Little Lamb and he is done for. Sometimes people will ask for him to play music in certain areas, like the beach or meadow, so they can hold little homemade ballroom dances.

Aluminum has to have someone to help guide him around whenever he has to wear clothes that don't have eyes on them. He does his best to draw them on, but sometimes he just doesn't have anything to draw on the clothes with. He gets pretty freaked out during those moments due to having a fear of blindness, which is natural for many of the Eyeless, but most everyone seems kind enough for him to feel relatively safe.

On the subject of clothes, everyone would be cross-dressing for the heck of it. Like, they don't care. Aluminum thinks he looks better in dresses, anyways, and Maya wants to be the "knight in shining armor! The mini Mulan! The cool tomboy who kicks evil's butt!" Baxter loves to wear makeup and finds that skirts are easier to wear when you have a tail, with Derek agreeing. Johnny likes to play pretend with Maya, playing the part of a prince who needs saving, while wearing pretty pink slip on shoes due to the fact that they feel comfortable and look nice. The most Dr. Cogsworth would so is wear a mixture of different gendered clothing depending on what he is doing, all while trying to stay modest and professional. Is it his turn to water the crops, but it is hot enough that his systems will overheat? A nice skirt with a button up shirt will do. Is it cold outside, but he needs to go to the forest and frosted heights to collect wood? Well, the only gloves he has are some sparkly pink ones, and he has to match his clothes to look presentable. Pink glittery, rose shirt with some warm black pants and winter boots. Meanwhile, Aluminum would be running around in crop tops, shorts, pretty princess dresses, high heels, and whatever he feels like because he is at the point where he just doesn't care. His clothes hardly match half of the time, too.

Maya would be running around, sometimes on all fours, making the most random of noises to shock people. A girl has to have fun somehow, and when the only games you know how to play are slinky hunting and chase laser you are going to have a peculiar sense of fun. Johnny joins in from time to time, chipping in on other games to play. He's the one who came up with their knight and prince games. She mainly sticks her tongue out and makes a "blep" noise, but she will randomly screech or growl to catch the villagers off guard for fun. When Baxter catches this, he picks her up and shouts at the top of his lungs "LOOK AT MY NIECE! WHAT AN AMAZING HUNTRESS SHE IS!" out of pure proud uncle energy.

#tales from the iolite hospital #my ocs are my babies #disney dreamlight valley #This was supposed to be a joke but I have gone too far #what have i created #Crack fic?

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zot3-flopped · 10 months

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I am wondering what is in the future for the other 4. Harry is obviously set for life at this point, creatively and financially. A hard worker who went at it right from the get-go, and who has talent, work ethic, connections and creative interests enough to give him a great career.

Liam struggles, and I can see him being in and out of rehab for years to come. He has some talent. His little SA tour might give him a push and it might not. He gets in his own way but partly that’s his addictions and his odd brain chemistry. But with a dwindling audience he can’t hope to get very far without some major changes.

Niall will plod along. He’s a hard worker and he seems ok to work with, interested in music certainly. He’s not very interesting but he doesn’t seem that bad. I predict he’ll slow the music down and rely on his golf business. I think he’d enjoy that.

Zayn I can imagine will just carry on the same as now, maybe a couple more revelations about the band ending just to garner sympathy or attention. He’s obviously had talent and not nurtured it, and I wonder if he can turn that around. He’s so MOR in the genre he’s chosen that I can’t see him having much longevity to be honest.

Louis fascinates me, because he has the least talent by a long long way but by god he is screwing what he can out of it. But, how much are these attempts costing him, financially? His tours cannot be profitable, unless there’s some metric we can’t see (always possible). It costs money to make a documentary and if he covered those costs then great but he needs profit. With no talent and with the image he’s crafting for himself being so unattractive, he doesn’t really have a hope of progressing. I can imagine him doing one more album and then not touring it. I can’t imagine he’s cash rich at all and it takes investment to tour. Look at his outfits and stage set-up. That’s not a man who can afford to put on a show. He does seem to be caning it on tour and will that be a long-term drinking problem afterwards? Will he go quiet a bit, concentrate on helping to raise his son, and disappear? He seems too stubborn (unfortunately). But what else can he (afford to) do?

Agree that Louis is investing a lot of his own money into his projects and barely getting any return, particularly in the case of his documentary. He must have spent at least £3m on AOTV, thinking that a big streaming service like Netflix or Amazon would pay him a nice chunk to have it on their platform - but they know a vanity project by a has been when they see one, and they weren't interested. He tried to finance the Asian tour on his own too, but got cold feet and pulled out at the last minute.

The AFHF is unlikely to be the annual event he wants it to be because only a few thousand Louies buy tickets for it. He's really struggling to sell tickets this year. I think he'll bring out one more album and tour it in small venues, and after that he'll just have to admit defeat, unless he wants to go bankrupt.

Niall is probably sick of doing the utmost when it comes to promo - on every platform possible - and not receiving the recognition he thinks he deserves in terms of certificates and awards. He's already prioritising golf over music when it comes to planning his year.

Liam needs to stay away from the party scene if he's serious about his sobriety, but it's the only lifestyle he knows and his girlfriend loves it too. Kate romanticises alcohol and can't resist posting photos of artfully framed glasses of wine and champagne. He has no chance with a selfish partner like that.

Zayn has just released an earworm that could do well on the charts with some TLC, but he still won't leave his farm. His new label don't seem to have much influence over him. IG stories with chickens are cute but won't expose his new single to a wider audience like performing on a breakfast show would.

#niall horan #louis tomlinson drink problem #niall tour #liam payne #zayn #harry styles

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simswamp · 8 months

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Welcome to my very first post on Tumblr ever (help me I have no idea what I'm doing), and the opener for a new decades playthrough! I've been Simming since 2000, and this is by far my favorite way to play.

Some things to know:

I go by a different time table than the classic Decades challenge. I don't switch decades until the next generation is born, which is weird and doesn't make a lot of sense, but well same here so this is what we're doing. When playing the traditional way, I find that the game starts moving too fast, and the 18 collective hours I've spent downloading vintage CC seems like a much less effective use of my time. So my playthrough is starting with 1880 (founders), and will become 1890 with the YA birthday of their first child, and will STAY 1890 until the next generations heir has their YA birthday. If this sounds too confusing/dumb, please leave because I am the most confusing and dumb bitch you'll ever meet. But I've spent thousands of dollars on this franchise over the last 23 years and I owe it to myself to do the absolute most.

I'm really not a storyteller, I don't use poses, and I don't edit my screenshots, 50% because I'm lazy and 50% because I don't know how. There will be a paper-thin attempt at something resembling a plot, but that's about as deep as it gets. I love this game the most when it gets weird.

I fill the world with gallery Sims that are hashtagged with the appropriate time period, so that the background characters are still very appropriate without me having to actually make them. Again, lazy. So you may see some Sims you recognize, if you do the same or happened to have made those Sims. The same is true of some buildings, which may be lightly edited on occasion, and which I will never take credit for or pretend to have built. All Sims that see any playtime and all buildings that the legacy family live in will be 100% made by me.

I'm new please be gentle :3 I'm truly just here to dump screenshots and hopefully find people to interact who are also this into this game.

Once upon a Monday around 8pm, an imaginary, immortal cartoon based on a human loser, got extremely bored. Sure; she's immortal, with immortal versions of her partner and pets to keep her company, and also unlimited money and artificially perfect skin. But what's it all about?

And then, a brainstorm. Why not create imaginary people and control every aspect of their lives? But they can't enjoy the decadence that usually comes with being a pretend person, because that's just boring. The best part is when they're stressed out, right? So they'll have to be pretty damn quaint.

She built a church to the only deity she had ever fully believed in: Dibella. Of the Nine Divines, Goddess of beauty and love, from a video game series so 1) appropriate and 2) also very imaginary. From the pulpit, she could call her little sheep to flock, checking in on their lives and encouraging a meager lifestyle. Just because we KNOW the cheat codes, doesn't mean we should USE the cheat codes.

Three newlywed couples were created.

Imogene and Ambrose Merriment,

Mathilda and Vernon Revelry,

and Amina and Roger DeBauch.

After an afternoon spent around their adorable little gathering place, she decided on the Merriment family being her primary focus, receiving the most attention and the least control of their own fates. All three families will be largely controlled, but not to the same obsessive level as the Merriments.

They were given a farm, complete with a barn, cow, chickens, small garden plot with seed packets, and 100 Simoleons. Much more important, they were given a randomized mixed-breed puppy, Llewelyn, for protection and company.

Setup complete, let the great experiment begin!

#sims 4 decades challenge #sims 4 gameplay #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 decades of merriment #the sims 4 legacy #simblr #new simblr #ts4 screenshots #ts4 legacy

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theunstuffedpepper · 2 years

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We bought a Big Green Egg! Technically I bought it through my brother, who got a great deal on it through his work, back in May for Father’s Day. It finally arrived to my brother’s store and he drove up to deliver it to us last weekend. If you’re not familiar, the Big Green Egg is an awesome ceramic smoker/grill, but we’ve put off buying one because they’re pricey.

I don’t get to see a whole lot of my brother, who is five years younger and lives in NJ. We aren’t very close, I think because of a combination of age difference, geography, differences in stages of life, and personality differences. We’re just very different people. That said, it was great seeing him and spending a little time together. I also got to sit and chat with his girlfriend for a while while he helped B put together the egg, which turned out to be nice. The best thing B has made on the egg so far was this incredible spatchcock Peruvian chicken with green sauce. The sauce was done by yours truly, and it was amazing, but the chicken was all him. SO GOOD.

We also took the babes for their first trip to the farm recently! It was such a cool place — a farm about a half hour from us which is free to families to walk around, see the animals, and explore. Pep is learning about farm animals and their sounds right now so it was so cool to show him the cows and pigs and horses and ducks and hear him moo and oink and neigh and quack.

I had my postpartum follow-up obgyn visit and turns out I have healed from delivery “awesomely” so I’m now cleared to go back to life as normal. I’m still going to take it easy with exercise but I’m happy to be heading toward normalcy and being able to do everything I want to do. I’ve not made the progress I’ve wanted to make as far as weight loss — still feeling very mushy after growing and birthing two (giant) boys, so this month I want to change that. Maybe I’ll even start one of those weight loss tracker calendar things that @losingitinjersey inspired me by using a while back. We shall see.

B and I have still been casually house hunting. The house I’ve talked about previously fell through and went to another buyer — probably a blessing. We looked at another one yesterday which was much less of a project and we liked it a lot. Thinking about making an offer. The real estate market is definitely cooling off from where it was even a few months ago but we shall see how it goes. Still very competitive, I’m sure.

What else? Really just surviving the summer duldroms over here. Looking forward to cooler days. Trying to keep the house relatively tidy, which is a serious challenge when you’ve got an 18 month old who LOVES throwing food. This… is not my favorite stage, food-wise. Yikes. Trying to get sleep when I can, which is honestly so much better than it was with pep at this age. Speaking of sleep, pep transitioned to his big boy bed and is no longer in a crib, and it’s been going much better than anticipated. He took to it well and it really hasn’t interfered with his sleep. Once we tuck him in he stays in bed, but enjoys the freedom of being able to get out if he drops his binky or his dear, dear bunny. So far, so good!

All is well on my end, and I hope the same for you all. Soaking up the last month of summer before the best season of the year is upon us.

#momblr #pip is 8 weeks #pep is 18 months #big green egg #08032022 #operationkay10

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lambden · 2 years

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back with another flash fic challenge— the first one since spring of this year! I wrote some cahir/eskel in a very loose space AU. featuring a healthy dose of weird kinky wireplay and some characterization that I entirely stole from people who write cahir much better than me. enjoy!!

E, 5.7K, angst & smut but no actual smut, sci-fi AU Also on AO3!

The meal replicator emits a simple six-note song when it finishes its task, and Cahir glances over to carefully consider the small machine. People find the sound more pleasing than a routine electronic noise, even if it serves the same purpose and triggers the same chemical reaction in the human brain. Even though his brain is not wired to receive the same satisfaction, Cahir mimics the song. His voice is far from melodic but the noise still calms him— until the replicator beeps again, then he hurries to open its door.

Cahir carries his mug out of the dining hall, humming to himself. His own quarters are right next to Emperor Emhyr’s, a fact that embarrasses and satisfies him in equal measure. He understands that his proximity to the Emperor is only for convenience’s sake, but on lonely nights like this he likes to believe that Emhyr placed him there as a sign of trust.

He places a hand against the Emperor’s door as he does every night but doesn’t knock, just holding his palm to the solid metal. Soon, upon his leader’s return to the space station , this door will be opened again and Emhyr will call on him for evening strategy sessions. And it will be soon; Cahir is sure of that.

Naturally, his own quarters are more modest than the Emperor’s. He has no paraphernalia from home or furniture with which to entertain guests, because his role on the station is not to host or provide entertainment. But despite the lack of a bed there is a small bedside table, and Cahir sits on the ground beside it now, humming the song of the replicator.

His fingers curl around the hot mug until his pain receptors are almost activated, then he pulls back in time to avoid burning his skin. While Cahir has no taste for hot cocoa, or most human foods, he understands the appeal. The sweet smell and warmth are comforting, and the funny gelatinous marshmallows bobbing up and down in the hot liquid coax a smile out of Cahir for reasons he can’t entirely place. He only wishes that he had someone here to actually drink the cocoa.

But his role here is certainly not to complain. Cahir raises his chin to stare out the window, taking in the expanse of space outside. In the far distance stars twinkle at him; he wonders if those are the same stars visible from Vicovaro. His home planet, though windy with unruly weather, had always had the most beautiful sunsets. He and his siblings used to stay up to watch it; of course, they never slept anyway, but waiting out the long night was always more tolerable when you weren’t alone.

Vicovaro is a subject of internal conflict for Cahir, and thus he doesn’t like to spend much time thinking about it. He holds a great deal of nostalgic affection for where he was made, but he also recognizes that the planet was politically dominated by the Empire. Had Vicovaro been less pathetic, or boasted any military strength, perhaps they could have put up a fight against the invading forces. But Nilfgaard rightfully took over the planet of small manufacturing facilities and farms, and so Cahir’s greatest journey had begun.

He turns his thoughts away from his old planet and cups his hands around the hot cocoa once more. Despite the lonely stars, the skies are devoid of movement. Cahir watches for the distant white flame that he knows will arrive any day now, signifying the triumphant return of Emhyr’s ship. His Emperor will dock onto the space station, and he’ll find it just as pristine as when he left almost a month ago. No— even more pristine.

The hope soothes him. Cahir stays silent, watching the sky for the approaching ship. He hums the song over and over, until the station’s automated lighting system reaches its morning brightness. Still no light appears on any horizon.

Cahir gets up, stretching his limbs and lifting his arms over his head. Time to prepare for his regularly scheduled rounds. He retrieves the now cold cup of cocoa and heads back out into the hall. Almost as soon as the door shuts behind him, a small shuttle careens towards the station.

“If this is the last you ever hear from me, I want you to know I love you,” rumbles Eskel, his thumb jamming down the communicator button as he reaches around the dashboard to prepare for docking. “And also I want you to tell everyone that I died in a much, much cooler way.”

“You aren’t going to die,” Geralt snorts, his voice tinny through the ship’s speakers. “We’ve scanned this hunk of junk over and over for any signs of life and there’s nothing on any radar. No shields, only some outdated cloaking.”

Looking up at the massive space station, it’s easy to see what his brother means by outdated. Some of the outer panels are in dire need of repair and the engines obviously haven’t been maintained in decades. The landing bay doors are swinging open, beckoning him in. Eskel is reminded of a carnivorous plant waiting to trap its prey. He shudders, glaring at the station. “The lights are on.”

“But nobody’s home,” supplies Geralt. Eskel supposes he’s right; they would have picked something up by now. “Come on, it’s basically buried treasure without any guards. Grab as much as you can carry; hell, tow some vintage parts behind your ship. They won’t notice a thing missing. Vesemir said that no activity has been flagged here in a few decades.”

“Right,” Eskel says, still uneasy. “... Keep the lines open?”

“I’m here,” Geralt reassures him, even though he’s nowhere near here. If there really is a threat aboard this old vessel, his family will never make it in time to help him. Eskel lets go of the mic, instead reaching to secure his weapon in its holster. He braces himself for whatever awaits him.

He couldn’t have possibly braced himself enough.

The ominous landing bay welcomes him aboard, although all posted signage is in a language he doesn’t recognize. A quick scan reveals it as Nilfgaardian, and Eskel frowns, forwarding the translation to Geralt. Although they tend to have their fingers in many pies, Nilfgaard doesn’t spend much time on this side of the galaxy. Their efforts have been focused on Cintra and Redania, and on claiming old, long-uncontested territories and dwarf planets. Maybe a hundred years ago he would have been scared to sneak onto a Nilfgaardian vessel, but their empire is practically archaic now.

Following the translated signs for 'cargo hold’, Eskel keeps his wits about him and explores in silence. As far as he can tell, all the lights are automated and kept on a planetary schedule; it must be mid-morning back on Nilfgaard. But the elevators are surprisingly clear of dust and none of the lights have burnt out, so this station must have some mechanical method of maintaining itself.

The cargo hold yields no remarkable hidden treasure, save for an extremely unusual garden. Eskel has yet to remove his helmet or suit but the presence of plants is promising; he pauses to run a quick test of the air. It’s not dissimilar from Morhen air, and the pressure is lighter than he expected for a ship.

Bemused but curious, Eskel kneels at the edge of the garden, photographing the plants. He can’t identify all of them but the ones he recognizes are harmless, mostly herbs and flowers. The garden is only a few metres wide and the plants are short instead of overgrown. Eskel reaches to one of the herbs, twisting the stem between his gloved fingers. The growth has been carefully clipped back. Maintained, just like the elevators and halls. His blood runs cold.

“Geralt,” Eskel rumbles, pressing down the button on his arm that will signal his brother. “I don’t think I’m alone here.”

Two days from now, Emperor Emhyr var Emreis will have been on his crusade for a month. Cahir awaits the anniversary with nearly unbearable excitement, because he remembers his leader’s advisor, a rather unpleasant human named Vilgefortz, bragging about how the away mission would undoubtedly take little time under Emhyr’s command. ‘At most, a month,’ Vilgefortz had boasted to the gathered navigators and soldiers in the control room. No one paid him much mind, all bustling about to prepare for their imminent departure. But Cahir, the sole occupant of the station who would not join Emhyr on his journey, had clung to the words as religious humans cling to the words of their holy preachers. At most, a month.

And now, twenty-eight days after the departure of his emperor’s vessel, Cahir expects his arrival any hour now. He kicks into high gear— literally— and adopts a rigorously productive schedule. He cleans areas of the station that aren’t even on his cleaning docket, scrubbing the high ceilings of the command centre and carefully wiping down Commander Morvran Voorhis’ array of weapons. Cahir hums to himself all the while; he’s sure he sounds about as melodic as a half-dead robot bird built by a child, but he can’t help it. He wasn’t created to sing, but until his master’s return (at most, two days from now!) no one can stop him from humming.

Over the sound of his own voice he nearly doesn’t hear the footfalls from the open door. But his sensors are better than any human hearing, so Cahir whips around, rag in one hand and antique sword in the other. He half expects to see his Emperor silhouetted in the artificial light from the hallway, standing tall and strong and waiting for Cahir to come and kneel before him.

Instead, a stranger stands in the open door. Cahir’s system begins overheating as he struggles to process the sight before him. The stranger is broader than his emperor, and taller, wearing a bulky space suit and helmet unlike any technology Cahir has ever seen. In his hand is a gun that will not do much to immobilize an advanced model like him, but Cahir still shakes, afraid despite himself.

The big stranger stares through his visor. He doesn’t shoot, but he doesn’t lower his weapon, either. Instead, he speaks— it takes Cahir only a moment to translate the language. It takes him longer to try to wrap his mind around the soft, nearly kind timbre of the man’s voice. For the first time, Cahir sees his eyes: dark, and gentle. “Are you the only one on board?”

“Yes,” Cahir answers proudly, before realizing in a panic that he probably should have bluffed and said no. But he has never been expected to act in a forceful capacity, only as a cleaner— Emhyr’s most trusted cleaner, to be sure, and the last line of defense, but he isn’t exactly a security robot. He would have to download a whole new set of processes to even learn how to wield the scimitar in his hands. He clings to the blade’s grip anyway, hoping it will intimidate the stranger. “That is, I thought I was until just now.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” The man raises his other hand. “Are you… why are you here?”

“I work for the Emperor,” Cahir informs the stranger, who seems inappropriately unimpressed by this declaration. “Emperor Emhyr…? Deithwen Addan yn Carn aep Morv— ah. The White Flame Dancing On The Graves of His Enemies, I suppose, would be the translation in the common tongue. He’s on an away mission at the moment, so— I— why are you here?”

Beneath his helmet, the man’s face twitches. “There’s been no signs of life in this quadrant for a very long time.” His tone is still too kind. Cahir can’t remember the last human who spoke this kindly to him— he immediately distrusts it. “I’m a… um, mechanic. I was flying by and saw the lights, and I thought maybe you were stranded.”

“I am not— we are not stranded,” Cahir corrects. “We are cloaked. In fact, you should not have been able to board the vessel without our security system evaluating your threat level. How did you board?”

The mechanic blinks. “The doors were open.”

Were he human, Cahir might blush. He had opened the landing bay doors, but only because he thought a passing comet was Emhyr’s ship and he hadn’t wanted to delay the White Flame’s entry for even one moment. He should have known better than to leave them open; he curses, privately making a note to adjust his own impulses.

“Well… that is because I saw you coming,” bluffs Cahir, taking a leaf out of Vilgefortz’s book and trying to copy his confidence. “And in order to properly prepare for the Emperor’s arrival in two days, I thought that I would enlist your services.” The mechanic’s gaze flicks to the scimitar in his hands and Cahir quickly replaces it on the shelf.

“Two days, huh?”

“Yes.” He wrings out the damp washcloth and places it over his shoulder. “Your arrival is well-timed, as I need someone to examine all the technology on board and ascertain that everything is up to date.”

Still watching him with that curious twist in his mouth, the mechanic asks, “Why not just examine the hardware yourself?”

“... I am not permitted to do that.”

“Alright.” Finally, the man lowers his weapon— only to holster it, and fold his thick arms over his broad chest. The thought occurs to Cahir that by human standards, this man would be considered very beautiful; the strange scars across one side of his face are all that mars his visage, and even those are a sign of worldly experience. What Cahir doesn’t like as much as his appearance is his persistence, and defiance, as he asks, “Well, what’s in it for me?”

“Is loyalty to the Emperor not enough motivation?” The stranger just frowns, and Cahir sighs. “Fine. What would you like? I cannot offer much.”

“I want to look at your hardware,” the mechanic says without an ounce of shame. Cahir’s internal fan picks up speed, and he hopes the man can’t hear it. “See if you’re up to date too.”

Such an offer would be considered unbelievably rude by most, and Cahir should tell the man to get right back in his spaceship and go back where he came from. But awaiting the crew’s return has unlocked a new loneliness in him, and despite this man’s size and weapons and unfamiliarity, he doesn’t seem… bad-natured. So Cahir finally relents, hissing, “No permanent changes.”

“Hey, no, of course not,” says the mechanic, raising his hands. “You can stay online and walk me through the whole thing, alright? I just want to help.”

“I need no help,” Cahir spits at him. “... Would you like a hot cocoa before we begin?”

“What?”

Seemingly forgetting the rag slung over his shoulder, the service bot cleans out a ceramic mug with another dishcloth. Eskel watches from across the dining hall, fascinated even as Geralt asks him question after question. “You’re fine? Nobody’s holding you hostage? You’re not in any danger at all?”

“Don’t think so,” Eskel whispers back. The android turns to glance in his direction, and he covers his mouth with his wrist, mumbling into his communication system, “I’ll tell you later, okay? But I’m good. Found something weird.”

“You and Lambert and all your weird discoveries,” gripes his brother. “You know what I do when I find something weird on a looting run? I leave it the hell alone and mind my own business. Have you ever heard of the concept? Minding your own business?”

“Gotta go,” Eskel mutters, and switches his comms off. He’s sure Geralt won’t be happy with him, but whatever’s going on with this bot is way more interesting than he’d expected. The android is still staring, so Eskel raises his voice to clarify, “Sorry. Just my brother checking in.”

“Oh,” the android replies in an odd voice. “You have a brother?”

“Two of them, actually.” Eskel takes a seat on a hard, unwelcoming bench; he guesses Nilfgaardians prioritize function over comfort.

“I also have two brothers,” volunteers the android. Eskel stares; he hadn’t thought that robots ever followed traditional family models, not unless they were brought into a human family to act as a family member. “And three sisters.”

“Are they… Nilfgaardian too?”

“No.” He sniffs— it is such a distinctly human action that Eskel can’t help but smile. “I was made on Vicovaro.”

“Oh, I’ve been there! Beautiful place.” Last time he visited Vicovaro, he got chased off the planet by the local police for looting an old cruiser for parts. But he’ll leave that out of the story, especially since the old tech could have been parts of this android’s siblings. “So you got drafted, then?”

The android meets this question with silence. Fair enough; it’s a little personal, even though he had been the one to offer information about his family, and to ask about Eskel’s.

Unfortunately, Eskel is starting to like this weird little robot. So as the android places the mug down in the vintage food replicator, he presses, “You don’t have to tell me your whole story, but we’re gonna get up close and comfortable pretty soon here. So we can at least exchange names, right?” This doesn’t get a response either, so he offers, “I’m Eskel. I’m from Morhen.”

“I have many names,” the android finally says. “CM-DAC-1268 is what you might— um, see.” Seemingly embarrassed by the reminder that Eskel is going to open him up soon, he twists away, watching the machine pour hot cocoa through the translucent door. “Back home, my maker gave us traditional Vicovarian names in the hopes that we would sell better. So my full name is Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach. But please just call me Cahir.”

“Cahir,” Eskel repeats, committing the full name to memory anyway— as best he can. Cahir doesn’t turn back to face him, not until the hot cocoa is finished pouring. The replicator plays a jaunty six-note song, and Eskel chuckles. “Catchy tune.”

When Cahir finally spins around with the mug of cocoa in his hands, Eskel catches the hint of a smile on his face. Compared to the latest model of android, Cahir is plain— no bells, no whistles. But he’s pretty, and his light blue eyes shine as he carries the drink over to the table. Eskel might be in a little bit of trouble here.

The space station is equipped with a standard laboratory for android upkeep, but Eskel seems to find the place wanting. He keeps asking Cahir about items that he hasn’t heard of; probably a translational error, but it gets annoying. Finally Cahir paces over to the table and strips out of his uniform to prepare for the operation; Eskel lets out a gasp, and Cahir spins to look at him. “What?”

“No, no, nothing,” Eskel bleats, very much not looking at Cahir. “I didn’t think, um. Shit! Never mind.”

Cahir glances down at his own naked body, frowning. “Surely you weren’t expecting exposed circuitry. I was made better than that.”

“Yeah, clearly,” says the mechanic, his voice thick. “It’s fine, I just… I didn’t think they made, um… service bots with… all the parts.”

Slightly amused, Cahir tells him, “My creator didn’t know what I would be sold for. I’m equipped for several roles and functions.” Eskel finally glances his way, and his gaze roams over the length of Cahir’s exposed skin. Nervous goosebumps travel along his arms and thighs, and his system begins whirring a little faster. “Is that… is there something wrong with that?”

“No,” Eskel says quickly. “You’re beautiful, that's all.”

The words stun him. Eskel still has yet to remove anything other than his helmet, but judging by his broad neck and kind eyes and the shaggy hair that falls over his brow, Cahir thinks he’s rather beautiful too. But he’s never had any opportunity to return any sentiment like this, because it’s never been directed at him before. Puzzled, he frowns, and then proposes, “You should take your suit off too. I don’t want to be the only one on display here.”

“Ha,” Eskel huffs. He doesn’t immediately move to undress, though, fidgeting with one of the tools Cahir laid out. “You might not like what you see.”

Cahir’s confusion deepens. “Why?”

The man just stares, his own frown tugging down in the scarred corner. He doesn’t offer any further explanation so Cahir returns his stare. After a long, charged moment, Eskel reaches up to unfasten the top of his suit. He slowly pulls down a zipper to reveal his chest, and instead of the undersuit that Cahir had expected, he’s only clad in baggy shorts and a loose tank top. Some scars are visible under his clothing; their webbing stretches around his shoulder and pectoral muscle to his back.

Cahir pays his scars very little attention, too wholly consumed by how broad his entire body is, even without the spacesuit. His arms and shoulders are tense but even if he wasn’t flexing his muscles he’d still be a good deal larger than Cahir. His stomach presses against the tank top and his shorts hang low on his hips, revealing a patch of hair that creeps down his stomach and leads between his massive thighs. His chest has thick, curly hair too. Cahir was not built to want. Inexplicably, defying science and his own system, he wants.

Voice shaking with obvious nerves, Eskel shatters the silence between them: “It’s a little cold in here.” A flimsy excuse, especially when he won’t meet Cahir’s wandering eyes. He reaches down to grab his suit where it’s gathered around his knees, and Cahir launches forward to stop him, touching the backs of his hands. Eskel stops, startled, and finally looks up at him. His eyes are the exact colour of cocoa.

“I can assist with that,” Cahir says. Eskel’s pupils balloon out until they nearly eclipse his irises, but he does not move away or push Cahir off. Carefully, Cahir scoots around him, heading for the temperature control panel on the wall. Eskel watches him go with a slightly amused expression that Cahir doesn’t know how to begin to understand, so he doesn’t worry about it. He raises the temperature, and somewhere deep in the station the heat kicks on. “I’m not used to hosting humans,” he explains. “Like I said, everyone else has been gone for a month; I suppose the settings are not exactly suitable for mammals.”

Eskel’s eyes are still dark but this gives him pause. He begins to say something before thinking better of it. “Here,” he mutters instead, kicking his suit away and carefully moving Cahir’s uniform to a chair. “Lie down,” he instructs, and Cahir does.

The mechanic carefully drags his fingertips down Cahir’s sternum, looking for something— he doesn’t find it. Cahir frowns, trying not to shiver, and he reaches for Eskel’s hand. He pulls the mechanic over to the right place; the button to access his command centre is on his right side, around where the human liver would be. Guided by Cahir, Eskel finds it and presses down gently.

His chest cavity pops open— Cahir feels nothing, thankfully. Androids are never given pain receptors in their chests or backs to allow for easier access when they need hardware updates. Eskel still winces, his eyes bulging out of his skull. Cahir snorts softly. “I thought you were a mechanic.”

Distracted, and almost slightly guiltily, Eskel replies, “What?”

“I only meant that you should be used to this by now.” Cahir gulps, glancing at Eskel’s thick wrists. “Right?”

“I mostly work with ship parts, not robots,” he concedes. “But I… um, the models I have worked on have been. Different. Their chest opens up…” He raises his hands so that Cahir can see, and parts them down the middle. “Two doors, not one.”

“Two doors?” Derisively, Cahir snorts. “I don’t know how they do things on Morhen but I have yet to see an android with two chest doors.”

“They’re called rib plates,” Eskel tells him, his voice as gentle as his touch. “They’re quite common, actually.” He reaches down into Cahir’s wiring, picking up a fistful of crossed wires to examine it closely.

Cahir’s breath hitches, and he abruptly regrets getting fully undressed. His body is immune to most physical reactions, but androids tend to react in other ways when touched— and Cahir’s insides have always been exceptionally sensitive. He considers warning the mechanic, just so that if Eskel glances down between his thighs he won’t be surprised. But before he can say a word Eskel carefully separates a bundle of wires, and Cahir bites back a gasp.

Abruptly, the man stops. But his fingers are still tied up in Cahir, whose breaths are coming faster and harder now. “Does that… hurt?”

“Not hurt,” Cahir pants. “No! Definitely not hurt. It’s— I’m sensitive.”

“Oh.” Eskel swallows, hard. “Would you like me to stop?”

Violently, Cahir shakes his head. Eskel seems to get the message; he eases up a little, but the gentler touches just drive Cahir crazy. It’s like he’s riding the edge of satisfaction, and Eskel won’t just give him what he needs. He can’t focus on anything— not until Eskel pulls a stopper out of a port and plugs him into a smooth, small tablet.

The wire is sleek, dark and thin and Cahir can’t feel it at all; he reaches to touch it, mystified. Eskel looks at him sharply, surprised, but Cahir doesn’t pull his hand away. He demands, “This one doesn’t feel like anything at all. Why?”

“It’s newer,” Eskel mumbles. “Usually, they don’t— um, usually androids aren’t sensitive the way you are. So hardware updates are a very routine process. If I’d known it was going to be like this, I would have wined and dined you a little more, I mean; uh, that is to say, I, I feel, you know, sort of awkward.”

“Don’t feel awkward.” Cahir frowns, letting go of the wire so that he can hold Eskel’s wrist instead. The veins inside are a comparable size to the wire, except they’re pulsing quickly. His blood must be rushing— Cahir’s system speeds up at the thought. Then he realizes that Eskel can probably see the strain on his system performance on that little tablet, which, of course, only makes his fan run faster. “I like it,” he hastens to say. “It feels good.”

“Yeah. Fuck, I bet it does.” Nilfgaardians have their own curse words, and hearing something as common as fuck goes right to Cahir’s exposed anatomy. He leans his head back against the table, baring his throat; Eskel glances right at his neck, and swallows hard again.

Once more, Cahir is overwhelmed by a wave of wanting. The desire does not fall in line with his programming, and doesn’t make any scientific, rational sense. But try telling that to his cock. “Touch me,” he begs, his eyelids sweeping shut. “Please, it feels… Please touch me, Eskel.”

“I want to,” Eskel groans, sounding almost pained. “You have no fucking clue how badly I want to. But I… I think something is wrong.”

A sudden sinking feeling erupts in Cahir’s stomach. Fighting off the dread, he opens his eyes to see Eskel frowning at the strange tablet. He props himself up on his elbows, trying not to jump to any fear-based conclusions before he sees the evidence for himself. “What is it?”

“I don’t want to overload you, so I’m going to say this as gently as I can,” Eskel tells him, unnaturally calm. It feels forced, and sets Cahir off more than if he’d just blurted out the bad news. But his chest door is still swinging open and he’s still connected to Eskel’s computer by a wire, so he’s helpless to do anything but watch as the mechanic pulls up a seat beside the table. “You said that you’ve been waiting on your crew for thirty days.”

“Twenty-eight,” Cahir corrects, his erection flagging instantly. “They said it would be a month, at most.”

“They were wrong.” Eskel flips around the tablet; on its screen is a list of tiny, bright statistics. Cahir sees the attribute ‘system date’ and the fact ‘actual date’, but the glowing numbers swim before his eyes and he can’t make any sense of it. Eskel sighs, but he doesn’t look away. The weight in his eyes is heavy, pitying; Cahir doesn’t understand why. “They’ve been gone much, much longer than that.”

Cahir’s mouth twitches downwards into a pout, and he blinks rapidly. “Thirty days,” he suggests.

“No.”

“A… a few months.”

“Cahir—”

“I can read it,” he insists, furiously, even though for some reason he can’t. It’s like his programming won’t let him process the information on screen; as soon as he has that idea, the sinking dread in his stomach solidifies into a stone. With horrid certainty, he knows that that’s exactly what’s going on. Still, he pleads, “They’ll be back soon. They promised!”

Eskel’s kind, brown eyes fill with tears, and Cahir can no longer bear to look at him. But he has no way to block out the sound as the human tells him, sadly but firmly, “That was ninety-three years ago, Cahir.”

Behind his eyelids he sees it all so clearly: the mission succeeding, Nilfgaard establishing a new trading port and taking control of another planet. They command other space stations, bigger ones; soon they have command over sprawling metropolises. Maybe someone challenges the Emperor and his empire— their empire succumbs. Maybe Nilfgaard grows and grows until it becomes an intergalactic power. A universal empire.

Either way, they move on from the space station that they assigned a service bot— Emperor Emhyr’s most trusted service bot, but a service bot nonetheless— to maintain. They decide that the trip back to reclaim the station wouldn’t be worth the fuel. Not when the station’s only occupant is an antiquated android with no status and no ambition. His greatest drive above all, to serve Emhyr and happily await his return, had kept him occupied. They had ensured that it would; they had fucked with his internal clock. For him, it’s only been twenty-eight days. For everyone else, nearly a century.

Which means Emhyr is dead. A dull thrill races through Cahir’s system at that, which he instantly and violently denies and rejects. But it is— it must be the truth; the emperor is dead, his advisors dead, his commanders dead, his subjects all dead too. Except for one lowly, lonely robot; his only remaining subject. Not dead, but locked in purgatory. Abandoned but not wiped. Forgotten.

“That’s fine,” Cahir hears himself say, quite neutrally and levelly despite how badly his voice is shaking. “That is fine.”

He opens his eyes to see Eskel staring at him like he’s lost his mind, which he sort of has, really. “What?”

“You checked to see if I was up to date,” he says. “And obviously, I am not. That’s fine. I still have a mission; I still must keep the station maintained for when Nilfgaard returns.”

Eskel’s hand meets his, and their palms slide together. Humans are so warm— Cahir had forgotten. With tremendous, unbearable sympathy, Eskel says, “Cahir, they aren’t going to return.”

“They still may.” Cahir sniffs. “I cannot abandon my post just because of a programming error.”

“It wasn’t an error.” Eskel flips the tablet around. Unwillingly, Cahir reads it. The ‘system date’ and ‘actual date’ data are now accurate to each other, but underneath is another date that he has trouble processing. ‘Termination date’: six years and nine months from now. Cahir glances at Eskel for confirmation, and he nods, devastated. “They only insured this place for a century. When that runs out, they won’t care about maintaining it anymore, and you’ll go offline.”

“Well— well— they— well—” Cahir rereads the date over and over. “They might come back then. In six years and nine months.” Even to his own hearing, he sounds desperate.

Eskel squeezes his hand. “But if they don’t?”

“Then I’ll have served my purpose.” In his mind, the White Flame extinguishes itself.

To his credit, the man actually considers Cahir’s wishes before gnawing on his lip, and finally shaking his head. “I… No, I… I can’t. I’m not going to leave you to die here for no good reason! Listen, I’m not— I haven’t worked with vintage parts before, so I don’t know how to fix this. But I have contacts, and they probably could find a way, alright?”

The room suddenly seems smaller than it ever has before. Eskel’s hand in his is warm, like the hot cocoa he makes to hold every night. It takes him a millisecond to compute that he must have made over thirty four thousand mugs of cocoa. What a ridiculous waste of Nilfgaardian resources— he bankrupted his own empire without even knowing it. And all so that he could cradle something warm in his palms and stare out the window for a light that would never, ever come.

“I’ll come with you,” Cahir agrees, surprising them both.

Eskel launches forward to hug him— in doing so, his chest presses against the exposed bundle of wires, sending a thrill through the android’s system. After a moment of trying to get his synapses back in order Cahir hugs back, awkwardly and probably incorrectly. But Eskel doesn’t complain about his technique, just holding him tightly and muttering under his breath, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. And thank fucking god.”

Cahir doesn’t believe in any god, and doesn’t know anyone else alive who does. But Eskel’s zeal inspires a similar fervour in him, and he grips the human tightly in response. “And in six years and nine months,” he breathes into Eskel’s bare shoulder that tastes of sweat and salt, “you’ll bring me back here?”

After a heavy pause, Eskel nods against his throat, and releases him. “If that’s what you want.”

It is the first time in Cahir’s life that any human has ever acknowledged what he might want. He makes a note to treasure the memory forever.

#cahir fic #eskel fic #eskel #cahir #eskhir #eskhir fic #my writing #flash fic challenge #tagging this is so difficult with my stupid broken keyboard omggg #also i am fully in rarepair hell. rorveth coming to u all soon

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anxiouslyfred · 2 years

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A Week’s Walk

Summary: While on holiday to England, Roman enjoys the countryside walks and exploring the areas around cities without driving. He challenges himself to do a walk around one of the county's and has a few hiccups on the way.

Author’s Note: I am English, have never been to America and based Roman's reactions from how I've heard youtubers or people online talk about America or their experiences visiting England. I have however done/ am doing a 100mile round of my county on weekends. The foal trod on my brother's foot, not mine thankfully

/\/\

England was small, and Roman could feel that the entire time he'd been there for the holiday. It felt like a contradiction to say he'd found nature in England, compared to America everything should feel on top of each other, with no space to just relax and drive, but that's what he'd done.

Where there weren't areas to enjoy driving, instead there were footpaths, extended walks, often within a short distance of any city he'd stayed in. It was almost baffling to hear someone suggest taking a walk to the next town, but Roman enjoyed agreeing and being shown little paths he'd have ignored or assumed to be part of someone's garden.

Recently he'd learnt of a 'round' a walk that connected the small towns further out of the county the city was in and since he'd got a week free in his holiday decided to attempt it, picking up a copy of the route from tourist information before setting out. The friend's he'd made even offered to take turns driving him out and picking him up from the places each morning and evening since none of them were particularly willing to walk it with him, even just small sections of it.

He'd never have expected to find farms on his first section, walking past cows and sheep would never have lived so close to cities back home. The footpaths even took him straight past them, through those fields a lot of the time.

Being able to befriend those animals as he passed was a great joy of Roman's, at least until, in an effort to nuzzle closer, a foal stood on his foot and refused to move from it. That was instant pain, an aching foot for the rest of his walk and an effective lesson. It definitely had Roman avoiding getting close to animals where he could from then on, not that he'd been actively approaching them before it.

That night he definitely sunk into a bath gratefully, already reading ahead to try and predict when he'd be passing through horse fields again. It might be sensible to see if there were walkways fenced off around the horses that he might follow, since there had been one around the field the foal was in that he only realised as he was leaving the field.

On the second day of the walk, Roman was confused and muttering to himself various insults for his friends. The locals he knew had been boasting over the footpaths and how well labelled they were. They'd even claimed that the routes through fields and woodlands were always well trod and visible.

He was currently sorely tempted to march back to their homes and lecture them about lying; in fact he'd do precisely that, just as soon as he finished the hike today. He squinted around the field he'd been wandering through again, trying to spot the yellow posts that had become his best friends to walk with. Perhaps the book meant to go down there. It certainly looked as if the bushes could be hiding a yellow post somewhere among them.

Finding the next town and a short time of clear footpaths and simple directions was enough for Roman to pause and eat his picnic for the day. He could carry on walking again soon.

Roman was feeling more connected to the world, to the farming and domestication of animals that humanity had brought about from doing this walk than he'd ever felt while driving around the USA. He thought of it as a challenge, an adventure, perhaps even a quest of fantastical proportions. He was also going to declare war on the English Countryside if he had to battle any more sections purely to keep his shoes on his feet.

Sure there had been a few drizzles and clouds had covered a couple of the days the week before, but Roman was going from walking over fields that had cracks in the dirt from drying out to areas of woodland clogged with mud. At least today he'd brought a spare pair of socks with him but still dreaded his hotel questioning why he'd had to clean mud coated socks in the sink the evening before. It would save him some blisters from going without socks if he had to rescue his shoes from the mud again.

Hopefully there would be easier paths ahead from here.

Roman had reached the highest point on this section of the walk. He could see a lake ahead of him and the sheep from the farm the path went through were scattered over the field. It took what was left of his breath after the climb away.

This was why he had wanted to do this walk. Moments like this where the view and the peace enraptured him. It might feel absurdly long and over complicated with directions always being either too detailed or too vague, but here, far from the bustle of the city, with just the view, the sheep and a welcoming bench to enjoy it from? People had climbed mountains to reach moments like this and Roman was beyond thrilled to have done so here.

As he pulled out his snacks it felt like he could look out over the lake for years without his fascination waning.

#roman sanders #sanders sides fics #hiking #walking #be careful around farm animals kids

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amberfaber40 · 1 year

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Amanda Seyfried on why she will never divert away from her personal style

The actress opens up about the challenges of red-carpet dressing and what she thinks makes a great investment piece

Jenna Ortega's Shag at the SAG Awards

Ortega has been on a roll this year since the debut of "Wednesday" on Netflix, and her retro shag haircut was equally as edgy as her character. The

Amanda Seyfried Is a Woman We Love

Because of those eyes, and that smile — even when it's filled with tabbouleh. Of these things we're sure.

Pastures New: Amanda Seyfried for The EDIT

Amanda Seyfried

Amanda Seyfried on playing Elizabeth Holmes in The Dropout & life away from the spotlight

Read the exclusive interview with Amanda Seyfried on PORTER

Amanda Seyfried still feels uncomfortable on the red carpet. As one of Hollywood’s most recognisable faces, you might assume that she wouldn't be fazed by it, but, like so many A-list actresses, she still struggles to feel at ease in the unusual situation. Posing in front of so many photographers will always have its challenges, she tells me, and no matter how much experience you have, it rarely feels like a natural thing to do.“I really enjoy experimenting with fashion on photoshoots, but the red carpet is a different animal; it’s very brief and it’s very frantic,” she says, speaking to me over Zoom from her kitchen table, dressed down in a cosy knit. “You don’t really have enough time. When I’m on a shoot, it feels more like acting – it’s more about the art in fashion, which is really fun for me. You can take as long as you like to feel comfortable and make the clothing work for you, which just isn’t really the case on the red carpet.”Because of this, Seyfried feels that she has boundaries with red-carpet dressing, knowing what she will feel at ease in. The actress has been working with stylist Elizabeth Stewart for years, someone who she says truly understands her style.“Elizabeth is so savvy – she is so amazing and I trust her so much,” she says with a smile. “She has these incredible relationships with designers, and she always finds the pieces that she knows I will like. She understands what will look good on my body and she knows my boundaries with fashion, and I am so grateful for that.”In terms of the process that goes into finding those amazing red-carpet looks, Seyfried says it is all down to Stewart, who brings a rack of clothes over to her house, which will always have something on that she’ll love. “It’s actually always very easy. Every once in a while – maybe once a year – I’ll see something in a magazine that I want to try, but almost always, it is something she has chosen, something she has put on hold, knowing I will love it.”Tristan Fewings //Getty Images Related Story Life Lessons with Anya Taylor-Joy For Seyfried then, much of her focus in fashion is about her down time, where she chooses to wear things that prioritise comfort over anything else.“I think my style has really always stayed in one place – it has evolved here and there and of course my body has changed when I’ve had kids, but I have always been one to wear sweatpants as often as I can, and when I wear jeans, it is going to be the same jeans I have had for years,” she explains. “It just works for me so I don’t move away from it. And look, I live on a farm for the most part now – no one is photographing me, so I just dress how I want.”This, to her, is what timeless style is all about: consistency. “I think it’s about not fitting into one era, you know, not fitting into a trend. For me, it’s really just been about what's comfortable over the years and so I feel in that sense that my style is timeless – I could be from anywhere, from any era; I never want to embrace trends or fleet from one thing to another.” She pauses, thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s because I’m just not brave enough, but I think that embracing what truly feels like you, and what you feel comfortable in is how you look your best.”CourtesyRelated Story Video: Inside Iris Law's beauty bag But comfort doesn't have to mean boring. While Seyfried may have her capsule wardrobe down to a T, she is all about investing in those very special pieces, those which elevate your everyday style.“Good jewellery is what I will invest in. It’s powerful because you can really embrace your own style with jewellery; you can make it your own. I will also invest in great shoes – I’ll overspend with them – and also I will spend money on cashmere, cosy jumpers I’ll wear forever, and a great watch.”As one of the faces of Jaegre-LeCoultre, she knows a lot about how to choose the right timepiece. Her top tips? “It has to be something that you are not afraid to wear all the time. It needs to be a watch that feels like it's part of you, and maybe you can’t remember a time when you didn’t have it, you can’t believe you used to not have it. You need to feel like, ‘How did I ever not own this? How did I walk around without this?’”“And I think this can be the case for very luxurious, extravagant watches too,” she adds. “I remember when I first tried on the Rendez-Vous watch – and I could see why it would be intimidating to wear because of all the diamonds. But I remember doing a shoot wearing it, styled it with a simple black turtleneck, and the pictures were just extraordinary. And I thought, yes, it’s very expensive – it’s exquisite – but it’s also extremely elegant and can add so much character to what you wear, even if you are just pairing it with jeans, maybe especially then.”CourtesyHaving such a close relationship with the brand has also allowed Seyfried to have even more respect for the beauty of the watches, now that she fully understands what has gone in to creating them. It's why this relationship has been successful for so many years.“Jaegre-LeCoultre is the master of watchmaking. It’s great to work with a company which is built on precision and attention-to-detail – their value is in these incredibly beautiful pieces, and getting to understand everything that goes into the making of these is just so incredible. Everything becomes even more special.”Working in fashion, and having access to such beautifully made products, has clearly made Seyfried appreciative of the power behind what we wear. And, whether in full glam on the red carpet or dressed down on the farm, she knows how personal style can tell the story of who we are – which is why she never wants to divert far from what she knows she loves.“Fashion is an extension of who we are and what we represent,” she says. “We are capable of expressing so much of ourselves in what we wear – it makes us feel seen before we even open our mouths.”Related Story Kate Hudson: What you don't know about me

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nasa · 4 years

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NASA Spotlight: Astronaut Mike Hopkins

Michael S. Hopkins was selected by NASA as an astronaut in 2009. The Missouri native is currently the Crew-1 mission commander for NASA’s next SpaceX launch to the International Space Station on Nov. 14, 2020. Hopkin’s Crew-1 mission will mark the first-ever crew rotation flight of a U.S. commercial spacecraft with astronauts on board, and it secures the U.S.’s ability to launch humans into space from American soil once again. Previously, Hopkins was member of the Expedition 37/38 crew and has logged 166 days in space. During his stay aboard the station, he conducted two spacewalks totaling 12 hours and 58 minutes to change out a degraded pump module. He holds a Bachelor of Science in Aerospace Engineering from the University of Illinois and a Master of Science in Aerospace Engineering.

He took some time from being a NASA astronaut to answer questions about his life and career! Enjoy:

What do you hope people think about when you launch?

I hope people are thinking about the fact that we’re starting a new era in human spaceflight. We’re re-opening human launch capability to U.S. soil again, but it’s not just that. We’re opening low-Earth orbit and the International Space Station with commercial companies. It’s a lot different than what we’ve done in the past. I hope people realize this isn’t just another launch – this is something a lot bigger. Hopefully it’s setting the stage, one of those first steps to getting us to the Moon and on to Mars.

You served in the U.S. Air Force as a flight test engineer. What does that entail?

First off, just like being an astronaut, it involves a lot of training when you first get started. I went to the U.S. Air Force Test Pilot School and spent a year in training and just learning how to be a flight test engineer. It was one of the most challenging years I’ve ever had, but also one of the more rewarding years. What it means afterwards is, you are basically testing new vehicles or new systems that are going on aircraft. You are testing them before they get handed over to the operational fleet and squadrons. You want to make sure that these capabilities are safe, and that they meet requirements. As a flight test engineer, I would help design the test. I would then get the opportunity to go and fly and execute the test and collect the data, then do the analysis, then write the final reports and give those conclusions on whether this particular vehicle or system was ready to go.

What is one piece of life advice you wish somebody had told you when you were younger?

A common theme for me is to just have patience. Enjoy the ride along the way. I think I tend to be pretty high intensity on things and looking back, I think things happen when they’re supposed to happen, and sometimes that doesn’t necessarily agree with when you think it should happen. So for me, someone saying, “Just be patient Mike, it’s all going to happen when it’s supposed to,” would be really good advice.

Is there a particular science experiment you enjoyed working on the most while aboard the space station?

There’s a lot of experiments I had the opportunity to participate in, but the ones in particular I liked were ones where I got to interact directly with the folks that designed the experiment. One thing I enjoyed was a fluid experiment called Capillary Flow Experiment, or CFE. I got to work directly with the principal investigators on the ground as I executed that experiment. What made it nice was getting to hear their excitement as you were letting them know what was happening in real time and getting to hear their voices as they got excited about the results. It’s just a lot of fun.

Space is a risky business. Why do it?

I think most of us when we think about whatever it is we do, we don’t think of it in those terms. Space is risky, yes, but there’s a lot of other risky jobs out there. Whether it’s in the military, farming, jobs that involve heavy machinery or dangerous equipment… there’s all kinds of jobs that entail risk. Why do it? You do it because it appeals to you. You do it because it’s what gets you excited. It just feels right. We all have to go through a point in our lives where we figure out what we want to do and what we want to be. Sometimes we have to make decisions based on factors that maybe wouldn’t lead you down that choice if you had everything that you wanted, but in this particular case for me, it’s exactly where I want to be. From a risk standpoint, I don’t think of it in those terms.

Can you describe your crew mate Soichi Noguchi in one sentence?

There are many facets to Soichi Noguchi. I’m thinking about the movie Shrek. He has many layers! He’s very talented. He’s very well-thought. He’s very funny. He’s very caring. He’s very sensitive to other people’s needs and desires. He’s a dedicated family man. I could go on and on and on… so maybe like an onion – full of layers!

Star Trek or Star Wars?

I love them both. But can I say Firefly? There’s a TV series out there called Firefly. It lasted one season – kind of a space cowboy-type show. They did have a movie, Serenity, that was made as well. But anyway, I love both Star Wars and Star Trek. We’ve really enjoyed The Mandalorian. I mean who doesn’t love Baby Yoda right? It’s all fun.

How many times did you apply to be an astronaut? Did you learn anything on your last attempt?

I tried four times over the course of 13 years. My first three attempts, I didn’t even have references checked or interviews or anything. Remember what we talked about earlier, about patience? For my fourth attempt, the fact is, it happened when it was supposed to happen. I didn’t realize it at the time. I would have loved to have been picked on my first attempt like anybody would think, but at the same time, because I didn’t get picked right away, my family had some amazing experiences throughout my Air Force career. That includes living in Canada, living overseas in Italy, and having an opportunity to work at the Pentagon. All of those helped shape me and grow my experience in ways that I think helped me be a better astronaut.

Can you share your favorite photo or video that you took in space?

One of my favorite pictures was a picture inside the station at night when all of the lights were out. You can see the glow of all of the little LEDs and computers and things that stay on even when you turn off the overhead lights. You see this glow on station. It’s really one of my favorite times because the picture doesn’t capture it all. I wish you could hear it as well. I like to think of the station in some sense as being alive. It’s at that time of night when everybody else is in their crew quarters in bed and the lights are out that you feel it. You feel the rhythm, you feel the heartbeat of the station, you see it in the glow of those lights – that heartbeat is what’s keeping you alive while you’re up there. That picture goes a small way of trying to capture that, but I think it’s a special time from up there.

What personal items did you decide to pack for launch and why?

My wedding bands. I’m also taking up pilot wings for my son. He wants to be a pilot so if he succeeds with that, I’ll be able to give him his pilot wings. Last time, I took one of the Purple Hearts of a very close friend. He was a Marine in World War II who earned it after his service in the Pacific.

youtube

Thank you for your time, Mike, and good luck on your historic mission! Get to know a bit more about Mike and his Crew-1 crew mates Victor Glover, Soichi Noguchi, and Shannon Walker in the video above.

Watch LIVE launch coverage beginning at 3:30 p.m. EST on Nov. 14 HERE.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space: http://nasa.tumblr.com

#launchamerica #nasa #spacex #crew1 #astronaut #rocket launch #space #science #STEM #Air Force #us military #hope #resilience #Spotlight

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armpirate · 2 months

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Kalla | Choi San || Chapter 3

MASTERLIST Previous || Next

Pairings: CEO!San x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers.

Warnings: dom!San, sub!reader, voyeourism, use of sex toys, bondage, dirty talk, BDSM, exhibitionism, rough sex.

At least until she received a call from her friend.

Although that hotel she'd be working on was much more than anything she could've come up with.

Little did he know Wooyoung would hire the imperfectly perfect candidate for him, sure that she'd help him in many ways other than just in dealing with the responsibilities of his position.

A new challenge will come their way as soon as she steps inside the hotel.

The more she digs in Kalla and all of its secrets and exciting corners, the deeper she'll dive into San's heart and soul... Although, maybe, she won't be able to take it.

Kalla opens its doors to you, sharing the vast amount of filthy and erotic plans it offers, and that you can join with a partner... Or maybe just by yourself.

Hope you enjoy your stay.

Chapter duration: 12 minutes

The glass made a dry sound as she placed it back on the table after taking a long sip from it, feeling the ice against her lips as she just gulped the bitter drink.

—I shouldn't have gone —Y/n shook her head slowly, too hooked up on her own pity to care about the concerned looks her friends were giving her—. You should've seen the look on his face when he started speaking, and I looked dumb as fuck catching random words in the air. He probably wondered if I was stupid or something. Who'd apply to a job offer in a language you barely understand?

After pouting, Y/n hid her head between her arms folded over the table, hiding herself from the embarrassing environment that had been following her since she did the interview.

—I thought you said it'd cheer her up —Joanne accused.

—Yeah, after breaking up and getting rid of that asshole she should be feeling untouchable, not deeper in the bottom —Rosie murmured.

—I just wanted to give her hope —Lizzie excused herself—. I thought it'd help her to stop settling up for a shitty job and a dumb boyfriend, because there are way too many good chances out there for her.

—Liz —Y/n raised her head, supporting it on the palm of her hand—, shut up.

Her friend's full red lips disappeared inside her mouth as she pressed them tight, too scared of her younger friend to say a single word about the topic.

—Rose is right. I have a shitty job, I always end up crying on my way back home or on my way to the office, and I wasted four years of my life next to a douchebag. And now they also know I'm pathetic in Korea —she whined.

—Why did you have to say that? —Rosie scolded her.

—Well, since we're already in a depressed mood, I have something to say —Joanne interrupted—. I broke up with Chad.

Y/n's problems suddenly moved to a second place after her friend's announcement, having all of her friends looking at her concerned as they tried to read through her neutral expression.

—What happened? —Lizzie asked first.

—We haven't been doing well lately. And being offered a higher position in the company on the other side of the world didn't help either —she calmly answered, taking a sip of her glass.

—You were offered a higher position in your law firm? —Rosie asked.

—No, he was offered a higher position in his company, and expected me to follow right after him and leave it all behind —after the silence from her friends, she felt forced to continue—. I have everything here: my family, my job, my friends, my house… Giving everything up for someone I spent more time arguing with than fucking was a no.

—But… what if it got better in that other place? —Y/n softly asked— You've been together for three years —she tried to justify.

—Honey, it never gets better —Rosie answered—. I thought the same after I followed my ex-husband around from Ohio to London, after seven years together, and it only got worse until we divorced and I was left with nothing. Jo took the right decision.

She remembered how Joanne introduced Rosie to their group of friends shortly after meeting her in one of those weird workshops she used to attend to distract herself. Rosie had just divorced her ex-husband, she was in a pretty dark place, until she finally started getting her life back together to become the person she was in that moment. If there was someone who could give either of them good advice, that was Rosie.

Although her bright moment of wisdom only lasted until the sixth shot of tequila. At that point of the night, Lizzie and her were everywhere but at the table where they started.

Despite the loud music and the cheers on the dance floor, Y/n could still feel the silence and quietness coming from Joanne, who was left at their table while she looked at her glass with a sad look.

—Are you alright? —Y/n asked first.

—Of course. Look at them —Joanne giggled, pointing at their friends.

Her tongue clicked, aware of what her friend was trying to do before she sat next to her, instantly allowing her real feelings to break through.

—I'm okay —she assured her—. It's not the end of the world. This isn't my first break up, and I'm sure it won't be the last either.

The only difference is that she genuinely saw a future with Chad, opposite to what she thought she had with any of the other men she dated in the past.

—It hurts. Of course it does —she finally admitted, nodding—. He's the person I love the most, I really love our relationship. But that's exactly why we needed to go different ways —her lips slightly grimaced with that comment—. I'm sure he wouldn't have taken the promotion if I had insisted. We weren't doing okay, but there is still so much love that I was afraid he'd allow it to get on the way to his future —Y/n could see the way her eyes started to water as she spoke—. Love could fight it all right now, but would it be as useful in the future? When he looks back and realizes the opportunity he missed? He'd have been selfish if he had insisted on me to leave with him, and I didn't want to be the selfish one making him choose me over his dream. It just wasn't fair.

Y/n nodded silently, rubbing her friend's shoulder in an attempt to give her some comfort through her words filled with pain.

—Maybe right now isn't the time, but it could be that you'll meet again in a few years and come back stronger than ever.

As Joanne's eyes squinted immediately after she smiled at Y/n comment, a sneaky teardrop rolled down her cheek over her makeup.

—You will never change, won't you?

—I'm just hopeful your story is just going through one of those "wrong time" situations.

—You should stop reading so many rom-coms —Joanne squeezed her knee, shaking her head—. So closed to love, yet the first one encouraging others to believe in it. You're unbelievable.

Y/n smiled to the ground, trying to make her smile disappear when she sipped on her drink with the golden straw. She had said it, she had sentenced love to a dark place in her life she didn't want to know anything about. She had lost so much in those four years, that only now that she was free did she realize the level of conformism she had reached.

—What about you? Are you okay? —Joanne asked.

—Of course. Andy is the one missing the…

—You know what I'm asking for.

—Yes, I guess I'm okay —she shrugged—. I think I just got too ahead of myself. I knew they were going to give me a "No" before I started the interview, but still my hopes got up because I saw the chance to kick all the things that annoyed me away. I saw a new opportunity to start something new, and get the feeling that they actually wanted me there. So when I heard the answer I already knew, but didn't want to believe, my heart broke a bit —her breathing dropped for a second—. It was too good to be true, either way.

—You'll get a similar chance soon. I have a good feeling about this —Joanne kicked her arm playfully.

Her head raised among the pile of pillows, and her upper body emerged through Rosie's arms wrapping tight around her as if she were going to escape. She first woke up with the unfamiliar sound that came from somewhere in the room but, a few seconds later -and after getting some sense back from her sleep-, she was able to recognize her ringtone.

—Turn that off —Rosie complained.

Still with her eyes closed, and with eyesight a little bit too blurry to adapt to the new light in the room, she picked up the call.

—Hello? —she mumbled, falling back on the bed and feeling Rosie's arms holding her tight again.

—Good morning. Is this Y/n?

—Yeah —her mouth moved, trying to get rid of how pasty it felt—, who is it?

—Jung Wooyoung, we had an interview yesterday…

Y/n didn't need him to explain what he knew her from, she already knew by just hearing his name. She quickly got rid of her friend's grip, sitting back on the bed to pay more attention to the call, aware of how quickly her five senses activated with just those words.

—I promise I didn't mean to lie —she assured—. That resume was sent without my supervision, but the person who sent it had no ill intentions either. Please don't sue us.

She was drunk, but she could perfectly remember Rosie's words before she was too high to be aware of her surroundings. She didn't think lying in a resume could have such big consequences as being sued for fraud, until Joanne also confirmed it, remembering one case she worked on a few years back.

She spent the whole night hoping she wouldn't ever hear anything from Wooyoung or Kalla.

—Suing? For what? —Wooyoung interrupted.

—That's not why you called?

—No. I actually wanted to speak to you about the interview. Could we hold a meeting…?

—I can —she rushed to answer.

—Great —he cheered with a melodic smile—. I'll be waiting for you at the restaurant of my hotel at eleven.

Y/n said goodbye and assured she'd be there before hanging up, relaxed and taking some time to celebrate, only to realize she was only thirty minutes away from the time of the meeting.

A muted whine announced the sudden move of her body, hopping over Rosie to get to the floor, only to fall right after. When she dared to check, she could see Joanne curled up, covering her body with a random blanket.

—What are you doing there? —Y/n asked, suddenly getting up to pick up her shoes.

—Liz kicked me out of the sofa —she pouted—. And you both looked so cute while sleeping that I didn't want to wake you up.

—Have you been there all night? —Rosie lifted her head to look at their friend.

Joanne simply nodded, moving her head slightly.

—Come on here —she invited her—. Where are you going, by the way? —her eyes moved back to Y/n, who was battling to put her shoes on.

—They called me from the job interview —she answered with a shaky voice—. I don't know what it is about, but let's hope for the best.

—Of course. That's the spirit —Rosie slowly went back to lie on the bed—. Call us when you know more things.

Before Y/n could even say goodbye to the both of them, Rosie and Joanne were already cuddling to each other with their eyes closed.

Those thirty minutes had been the craziest -and most stressful- ones in her life. She managed to stop by Lizzie's place first, get a fast shower, get rid of all of her make up and dress with a pair of straight jeans and a white shirt before she got inside the taxi she called to get faster to the hotel.

The thin coat of sweat on her forehead made some of the locks of her head stick on it, as she walked quickly through the reception of the hotel, trying to guess where the restaurant was before she saw the golden sign.

Wooyoung was sitting in one of the tables in the middle, with his back lying over the backrest while one of his hands fell over his crossed leg.

—Hello —she greeted.

—Hey —he smiled, offering her the seat in front of him—. Five minutes early, but with the evidence of how much you struggled all over you.

Y/n frowned as she sat down, breathing through her parted lips. He was criticizing her, but he looked completely casual about it, to the point that she wondered if he indeed was analyzing her looks.

—Sweat, messy hair, wrinkled shirt… —he pointed out her flaws one by one—. Sometimes it's better to be on time, or five minutes late, looking your best and giving a good impression, than showing up early looking like you've just gotten out of a marathon.

—That's… a whole new perspective —she nodded—. I'll keep it in mind.

—You should —he seconded—. What I told you isn't the type of things I pay attention to. You were here on time, I called you all of a sudden, that's alright. But San is the one who pays close attention to those details. It's over if he ever has to point them out.

—Excuse me —she interrupted him—. Why are you even telling me this?

—I thought you did the interview to be his assistant —his eyebrows raised, while his lips puckered as he spoke—. If you want to start well with him, I should give you all the tips you could use.

Her heart started to race inside her chest when she thought she caught the meaning behind those words, hoping she wasn't projecting or daydreaming as usual.

—He keeps losing assistants. At this point, we'll run out of candidates —he shook his head.

—I don't think I'm understanding what's going on —she interrupted him again—. Yesterday you said my profile didn't adapt to what you're looking for.

—It'd be better if you were fluent in Korean —he replied back—, but it isn't something you can't work on eventually. Most of the clients are foreigners, and most of the suppliers as well. You'll be alright. Also you said you were a fast learner, didn't you? —he quickly called her out— It'll be easy for you.

Before they could keep discussing the details about the interview, Wooyoung asked her to order something to drink or eat while they were there, going back to the main conversation as soon as she had her coffee in front of her.

—Can I ask why you changed your mind?

—I told you: I liked you as a candidate. Although you don't have direct experience in this position, I could tell you'd be a good hire by how you spoke. I also liked your honesty towards the end, probably it was what I enjoyed the most about your interview —he admitted—. Patience, empathy and honesty —she thought out loud, moving the spoon inside his macchiato—; I think the person you will assist could really get some benefits out of those traits.

—If this is a joke, it isn't funny —she warned him.

—I'm not laughing —his eyebrows moved up quickly, before he reached his cup to take a short sip—. But before we go on, I need to make sure with the type of hotel you'll be working at. I know you'll assist San, but he spends most of his day there.

—Will I have to see anything?

—No, no —he quickly shook his head—. San is really strict with that, but some people are uncomfortable with just working in that environment —he shrugged.

—What's the salary?

—Fifty million won per year.

Y/n stopped, not allowing herself to get fooled by that big number as she tried to make the math in her head.

—Almost forty thousand dollars.

—Shit —she breathed, almost choking on the air.

Wooyoung giggled at her comment, and how she quickly regretted it after being aware of it.

—We'll pay for your airplane ticket, we'll give you an accommodation at the hotel while you look for a place to stay in Seoul, and we'll help you with all the necessary documentation and visa permits you will need.

—Why does this sound like a scam? —she squinted her eyes— This sounds like the perfect trap to get me to an isolated place, and traffic with my organs.

—Honestly, it's the price he has to pay for being so exigent and annoying —Wooyoung admitted—. If he wasn't like this, probably he'd have ended up hiring someone from Korea. Just be happy I chose you —he suddenly attacked.

—I am happy. I'm just not used to such good things —she admitted—. It almost sounds too good to be true. By the way, what will happen when I get there? Will I just start straightaway?

—Hmm no —he lowly answered—. You'll meet the team you'll work with directly, you'll meet San, and Mingi will sit with you and teach you how everything works for a few days. He was one of San's assistants, before he applied for a different position —Wooyoung added—. Are you in? —he stretched his hand over the table and the cups, offering it to Y/n.

It didn't matter how bad Wooyoung was picturing her future boss. She could tell by the tone that he was probably just joking around because they both are close friends, she could almost bet San wouldn't be as bad.

—I'm in —she nodded, finally lifting her hand to stretch it with his.

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elias-code · 3 years

Text

Asleep in Your Arms - Techno x Reader

Characters: c!Techno x gn!Reader

Summary: While a blizzard outside rages, you find comfort in Techno’s arms. He tells you a story to help relax you, and you end up asleep in his arms. Not having the heart to wake you so he could go to his Syndicate meeting, he sleeps with you.

Warnings: None!

~Ask~

Could you maybe write a small thing about short reader (like 5’) feeling safe in Techno’s arms and maybe falling asleep on his lap before a syndicate meeting and not having the heart to wake you up so he lets you cuddle him during the meeting??

~Ask~

Note: Aww I’m 5’ 5” and this really speaks to me… When I get stressed, I just feel the need to melt into someone’s arms (preferably Techno’s) and sleep. Also I hate being woken up so i would appreciate him being so careful lmao. I couldn’t figure out a way to make the meeting happen so I hope this will do! Also, the story that he tells isn’t mine, I just heard it a lot when I was a kid, so I decided to write that one instead of straight up copy and pasting something else—

—- Enjoy! —-

To Techno, this was just another bad storm, but to you, it was one of the scariest parts of living with him. The only thing that could make the blizzard go away was his warmth. Even though this was your second storm by now, you still weren't used to the sounds. Snow was supposed to be soft and fluffy, but buzzards were far from that and far from anything you'd experienced before.

“When is this going to be over?”

Techno continued to look out the window at the blinding white storm. “I think it’s going to be a while. I don’t think it’s going to let up anytime soon.”

You sighed and put your hands to your face. You prided yourself on being a well composed person, but when it came to storms, something deep in your animal brain wanted to make you hide forever. Your instincts weren’t well-founded when it came to the blizzards, but Techno comforted you nonetheless.

He closed the curtain and walked over to where you were sitting, kneeling to your level and taking your hands off of your face to look you in the eye.

“Baby, it’s going to be okay,” He cooed, “It’s just a storm, it can’t hurt you in here.”

“I know…” He stood and sat next to you on the plush couch, the cushions sinking in as he did so. He put his arm around your shoulders and invited you to lean into him.

“C’mere,” He said, motioning for you to move closer, “Sit with me.”

You complied, just as the storm picked up once again. You scooted over into his lap, leaning your head on his chest. Compared to the 6’5” giant, you were an infant. He was nearly one and a half feet taller than you, and even though you were used to people being taller than you, it always felt different with him. With some people, it was intimidating, sometimes patronizing. With Techno, you always felt at home, like he was the iron giant looking after you. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head.

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” He asked. It was always comforting when he did that.

“Yeah…” You mumbled, shutting your eyes.

“Alright,” He cleared his throat and began:

“There once was a wealthy farmer who had three sons; Henry, Oliver, and Prince were their names. By the time he was seventy, he was on his deathbed, and he had to decide which son to give the farm to. When his sons asked who he wanted to receive it, he replied: ‘Whoever passes my test will be the one to own the farm when I die.’ The boys leaned in closer in anticipation for the challenge, ‘I will give you each twenty-five cents. I want you all to use that money to fill a room in the house completely. Buy whatever you need at the market, but do not go over budget.’

The boys understood the assignment, but were confused as to why he wanted them to do that instead of more conventional means. He could have just chosen one of them at random, one proposed, but the old man smiled and said, ‘I have my reasons, now go.’

And so they did. At the market, Henry bought the cheapest, biggest things he could find. He bought thin boxes, thinking he could fill the room with them, since they were so bulky. With the twenty-some boxes he bought, he could only fill half the room, and so he lost the farm.

Oliver was next, and initially, he thought he would be able to hire people to crowd into the house and maybe bring some friends, but no one was interested in what little money he could offer them. He came up with another plan, his father wouldn’t know if he bought above his budget, and so he bought the boxes off of Henry, and then some more. Henry charged him his full twenty-five cents, knowing Oliver was bound to lose with those boxes. Instead, when Henry went into the room they were supposed to fill, he saw a few extra wheels of cheese which blocked the entrance, meaning the room had been filled. Seeing this, he notified his father. Oliver had cheated, and so he would not get the property.

Lastly, Prince skipped into town. He was the youngest out of all of his siblings, only twelve years old at the time. He saw what his other brothers did and took note. He figured there’d be no way to fill the room with any physical objects, and so he came up with a different idea. He bought a candle and a match, with two cents to spare. When he got home and lit the candle, the room filled with light, and he explained it to his brothers.

They refused to think that their father would consider the room filled, but Prince insisted he’d stayed within the rules, and lo and behold, the father was ecstatic.

‘My dear Prince, the farm is yours! Unlike your brother Henry, you were able to fill the room. I never specified what to fill it with, and Henry just assumed that he would have to fill it with physical objects, which is not the case. You also outsmarted your brother Oliver, who had no sense of the rules and threw his chances away by cheating. You were the only one to stick to the rules and accomplish the task, I’m proud of you.’”

Techno finished the story he’d told you many times, knowing it was your favorite. You’d talked about it before, referring to it as a ‘lateral thinking puzzle’ or something along those lines. Techno had bought a whole book of them for times like these, when you were stressed. He’d go over them with you and he especially had fun poking holes in them, finding other ways to get to the desired end.

He was about to say one of his usual quips about the story when he noticed you let out a light snore. You were asleep in his lap, his arms around you, protecting you from the storm outside. He smiled, I am not gonna make it to the meeting today, am I? He thought to himself. The voices answered half-heartedly, still discussing how long they thought you’d been asleep for. He didn’t have the heart to wake you, and so he sat there with you until eventually he fell asleep, too.

#elias original #c!techno x reader #c!technoblade x reader #technoblade x reader #techno x reader #Eli sleep #dsmp #dreamsmp #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt #Technoblade #i have a new computer so shit might be off lmao sorry

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