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purplesurveys · 2 years

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Breakfast Food-Inspired Survey! 🥞🍳🥓 by joybucket

Section 1: Pancakes 🥞

What is something you haven't done since before this pandemic? See my college friends. We’re pretty much back to normal now so there’s been lots of chances to have had a reunion, but everyone is either in law school or a big introvert haha. I have seen Lui once but that was for a work thing so I don’t even count it.

What is the best thing to put on top of pancakes, in your opinion? Fried chicken and bacon.

Do you eat breakfast every morning? No, I pretty much skip it every morning unless my mom makes me the occasional breakfast.

What is your favorite breakfast food? Eggs Benedict, Croque Monsieur, or your good ol’ waffle and chicken combo.

What is your favorite thing to do order at Denny's? I’ve never been to Denny’s and have never understood the rationale behind paying P500-P600 for breakfast I could get for P50 at some stall.

Do you own a pair of pink pants? I don’t think I do.

Name three things you like that are soft. My Tata plushies, my dogs, and idk...pillows?

Do you prefer sausage or bacon? Bacon. I never liked sausages.

Have you ever had pumpkin spice pancakes? Nopes, I’ve never had anything pumpkin spice, but I’ve always been curious about the taste

Do you prefer scrambled eggs or hash browns? Scrambled eggs. Hashbrowns are fine but too oily for my liking.

Do you like to eat at Panda Express? I’ve never tried! The handful of branches we have here are too far from where I live. Their food looks great though and that’s definitely on my radar to try soon.

Have you ever been to IHOP (aka International House of Pancakes)? Nah. We had like one branch here ever but it was never crowded and just looked sad so I figured it wasn’t all that good.

Have you ever been to the other IHOP (the International House of Prayer)? I’ve never heard of that but you’ll also never see me there either.

....if not, would you ever want to go there? Nope.

Section 2: Eggs 🍳

What is your favorite way to eat eggs? Scrambled, poached, or omelette with lots and lots of cheese and bell peppers and anything else you can possibly pack inside an omelette.

Have you ever colored eggs for Easter? 🥚 Once with my cousins when I was like 10 or 11.

Do you celebrate Easter? In a sense that my family goes to church for it, yeah. But we don’t have a grand celebration for it nor do I observe it.

...if yes, how do you normally celebrate it? Just by going to church like I’ve mentioned.

Do you like deviled eggs? I’ve never had them but they look really yummy, so I’m not opposed to trying it out.

Do you know anyone who calls deviled eggs "heavenly eggs'? No.

Do you know anyone who is allergic to eggs? Yeah, a few friends.

Have you ever seen a bird hatching? 🐣 I don’t think so, only through videos.

Do you often put things off until the last minute and then scramble to get them done? I will be that way sometimes, but I wouldn’t say it’s a habit.

What are three of your favorite girl's names that start with E? Emilia, Elizabeth, Elliott.

What is your favorite boy's name that starts with E? Ezra is a pretty name.

Have you ever been to England? 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿☕️ Nope.

....if yes, what were three things you liked about it? I have not been to England.

Are you English? Nope.

Section 3: Waffles 🧇

What is your favorite things to put on waffles? Fried chicken. I also recently learned that jalapeños work great with waffles and chicken too.

Do you own a waffle maker? I don’t. No one ever really craves waffles in our household so we never saw the need to get a waffle maker.

Do you like to play Four Square? I’m not sure I know what that is.

Have you ever been to Times Square? 🗽 I haven’t. I’d love to go one day.

Do you own a pair of square earrings? No, not really my style.

Name three things you like that start with "W." Wasabi...and that’s all my 10:45 PM brain can think of.

Have you ever been to a wedding? 💍 I have, but only as a kid. I haven’t been to a wedding in years.

Do you worship God? No.

Do you prefer word searches, crossword puzzles, or sudoku puzzles? Word search.

What's your favorite day of the week? Friday.

What's a contest that you have won? A pro wrestling writing contest when I was like 13, lol.

Are you part Welsh? 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿 No.

What are three things you like about winter? Idk I’ve never experienced winter but I do find the idea of snow appealing and being all cozy in front of a fireplace. I know it’s not always that pretty though.

Have you ever pushed a wheelbarrow? Sure.

Section 4: Bacon 🥓

Do you like bacon? Love bacon. I’d never say no to it.

Do you have wavy hair? It is kind of wavy on some days, which I like.

What is your favorite thing to sprinkle bacon bits on? I’ve never sprinkled bacon bits on anything. I like it on doughnuts though, for one. OOH and mac and cheese.

Do you enjoy baking? I don’t...do stuff in the kitchen. Hahaha.

What are three of your favorite bakery items? I don’t have any.

Do you prefer muffins or scones? Muffins, just because I’ve never had a scone before.

What are three things in your room that start with a "B"? BTS albums, a black chair, and books.

What is/was your favorite Backstreet Boys song? I don’t have one.

Do you think Blake makes a better boy's name or girl's name? Idk I don’t care.

....and how about Brayden? ^

....Brooklyn? ^

.....Brady? ^

....Brogan? ^

Do you prefer bookstores or libraries? Don’t they serve different purposes though? We don’t have a lot of libraries though so I guess I have to go with bookstores by default.

Section 5: Bagel 🥯

What is your favorite thing to put on a bagel? I don’t have bagels regularly so I don’t have any preferences.

When was the last time you ate a bagel? Many many years ago.

Name three things you like that are round. Cake, pizza, cookies.

Have you ever owned a beagle? 🐶 We have a beagle! The sweetest and friendliest a dog could ever get.

Name three things you like that have holes in them. Doughnuts, ripped jeans, and uh idk maybe cheese?

Which fast food restaurant serves the best breakfast food, in your opinion? Probably McDonald’s? I really like those sausage McMuffins they have.

...and which sit-down restaurant do you think serves the best breakfast food? I’ll stick with a classic - Pancake House.

Do you like orange juice? It’s fine but you’d never see me looking for it.

Which name do you like best: Bree, Brynn, Bianca, Brogan, or Bailey? Bianca and Bree.

Do you have a cousin named Brian? I don’t; but I have an uncle with that name. It’s spelled with a y, though.

What is something you find hard to believe? That I'm alive at the same time a Marcos is president.

Do you prefer bagels toasted or non-toasted? I don’t care much for bagels.

Would you rather drink tea or coffee with breakfast? Coffee; I never have tea.

What is your favorite flavor of oatmeal? I also don’t like oatmeal.

Final Questions!

What did you eat for breakfast this morning? I skipped breakfast and lunch today, unsurprisingly. Dinner will be my only meal.

Do you watch any morning talk shows? Nope but when I was in college and drove myself to school I used to regularly listen to a morning radio talk show.

Do you listen to the radio in the morning? Like I said, only when I was in college. I rarely get to listen to the radio now especially since I work from home and don’t have to drive out on the daily.

What is your favorite thing to listen to in the morning? I usually put on a BTS video to help with my morning anxieties.

Would you rather wake up early or sleep in? Wake up early cos I always want to be productive with my time.

What are three things you like about mornings? Greeting my dogs, making my coffee, and idk that’s it really. I’m not much of a morning person.

Are you a morning person? Hahahahahahahaha

What are three things you do first thing in the morning? Splash my face with water, make my coffee, and figure out my game plan for the work day ahead.

Have you ever filmed a morning routine for YouTube? Nope, I’ve never made a video like that before.

Do you enjoy watching morning routine videos on YouTube? Not so much.

Would you ever film a morning routine video for YouTube? Sure, I’ll just have to tidy up my room first hahah.

Have you ever watched Good Morning America? No.

And last but not least, did you enjoy this survey? Sure.

#survey #surveys

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stellarboystyles · 4 years

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Make a Move

Harry’s a bartender and she’s a waitress, a match made in heaven. That is, if they weren’t constantly pining over each other like idiots.

4.2k !

She and Harry closed almost every weekend.

Why? Because there wasn’t really anyone else that was willing, so they’re always picking up slack. They were even more short staffed before Y/N came along, and given that she was the only waitress who actually gave a shit about her job, she was always the first choice whenever someone called in sick or quit unexpectedly, which, unfortunately for her, was quite often. Not that she’s complaining, because she and Harry always work the same shifts so it’s always fun. She was so kind to every customer but as soon as any of them were crossing a line she’d be the first one to tell them to back off. Harry was the best bartender on the strip, and everyone local knows it, too. Word travels fast, and his drinks speak for themselves. They make a great team. The rest of their co workers claim that the pair always get better tips, and even though they aren’t wrong, Harry and y/n like to indulge in the private joke that maybe if everyone else didn’t do their job half ass then maybe they’d get the tips that they get every night. Their boss is lucky to have both of them working for him.

But Harry was just as lucky to be working there.

That’s exactly what it was. Pure luck.

When Harry’s mum Anne told her husband that she was pregnant with him, he promised her that he was going to change and be home more often, for them. And he kept his promise, for a while. Harry was such an easy baby, easy going and hardly ever cried. However, three months later things swiftly took a turn when she quickly realised that he was going to be a colicky baby. Seeing her little baby boy in pain, screaming and inconsolable just simply broke her heart, but it just meant that he needed a little more attention. She’d quickly learned his favorite remedy was a warm bath and a comfy swaddle, followed by some cuddles and he’d be right back off to sleep. She still thinks the reason that they’re still so close now is because of that extra bonding time.

Harry’s dad had always been distant from him. He was never home, And when he was, he wanted Anne’s full attention, and when he wasn’t getting that anymore, because, you know, she was busy raising an infant by herself, he grew selfishly jealous of the child that he created. When he hit her in front of her son, that was it. She made the split decision that she didn’t want this life for Harry, or for her. She waited until he fell asleep that night, packed what she could, took her baby and left. Moved to London and never saw or heard from him again.

Harry was six years old when his mum first got sick. It started out as headaches and a fever that would come and go, but it got worse. To be specific, an autoimmune disease that was attacking her muscles and joints. It got so bad that she couldn’t even brush her hair, let alone take proper care of a six year old. Long story short, Harry learned quickly and at a young age how to take care of himself. when Harry wasn’t in school all he wanted to do was take care of her. He’d always wake up early on the weekends and make her second favorite breakfast...waffles. Her first favorite was pancakes, but he couldn’t make those, only because he knew that his mummy said the stove wasn’t safe and that he couldn’t use it by himself, because he could burn his fingers.

Three years go by and things are really tough. Anne could no longer work, so without her knowledge, Harry began to improvise. He started selling some of his toys to his friends at school during playtime. By the time almost all of his toys were gone he’d managed to gain thirty five dollars, and he was so proud of himself. But when he saw one of the medical bills totals on the kitchen counter, he knew he was going to have to try something else. Every monday his mum gave him five dollars to pay for lunch at school for the whole week. So instead of eating lunch, he kept it in his backpack with the other thirty five. His friends always shared their lunch with him so that he wouldn’t go hungry all day, and no one ever found out. Week by week the amount seemed to add up quickly. Before he knew it it was the end of the school year he had one hundred and ninety five dollars. He counted it twice just to be sure, but it didn’t matter because it still wasn’t enough.

He was sad, extremely sad and angry. Three more years go by and his mum is in the hospital recovering from surgery. He couldn’t help feeling so many things all at once. His mum was his best friend, why on earth was this happening to her, to him?

One afternoon Harry was walking home from school. It was gloomy and dreary, typical London weather. He wanted to get home faster so he could get to the hospital to see her, so he chose to make a quick shortcut down an alley to his left. As he walked he noticed a group of boys older than him, maybe fourteen or fifteen, on the side of the alley. Before he could turn around or walk past them, of course, they surrounded him. It felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

He was getting jumped.

“I-I haven’t got anything.”

One of them held his arms in a tight grasp whilst another one yanked the backpack off his shoulders, dumping the contents, including the wads of cash, onto the asphalt.

“Ooh, what do we have here?”

Harry’s eyes instantly widened, struggling with all the strength in his body, desperately trying to get free. He couldn’t let them do this.

“No! Please, please don’t. I’ll do anything you want, but I need that money!”

“So do we.”

A fist landed against his cheek and before he knew it he was on the ground being beaten senseless.

“It’s not for me!” he tried, throwing his hands up in front of his face in an attempt to defend himself. “It’s for my mum, she’s sick.”

“Hey! How many times have I told you to quit causin’ trouble back ‘ere?!”

Harry was wide eyed as he saw a man, probably a store owner since he came around the back corner. They quickly ran off empty handed. The man’s face changed from angry to bewildered as he saw Harry’s face.

And as if on fucking cue, it started to rain. Pour, actually.

“No, no, no…”

Harry scrambles to his knees and crawls forward, trying to salvage the dampened green paper, shoving it back into his backpack.

“Are you alright?!”

That was the moment that Harry’s life changed forever.

The man, who Harry quickly learned was named Joe, did more than just clean up the young boy’s bloody face. They started talking and Harry told him everything. About his father, the piling medical bills, everything—and in that moment Joe knew he had to help him.

Every day after that, after school Harry would go to Joe’s bar and work for him. Small jobs—sweep the floor, clean the tables, things like that. He took Harry in, looked after him when his mum couldn’t and gave him advice like the father he’d never had.

The day Harry turned seventeen was the day his mum was officially in remission. Harry had been saving every single penny he’d made over the last five years, which was enough to really help out with their situation until his mum could go back to work. He was over the moon, he didn’t think he’d ever see the day that she’d be feeling like herself again.

Harry didn’t really plan on going to college because even if his mum was better, he always wanted to be able to visit and check on her. After he graduated, he moved into the apartment upstairs above the bar, and the rest is history.

And that leads us to now. Four years later at twenty one Harry is everyone’s favorite bartender, who's crushing hard on this truly one of a kind girl that walked into his life only a few months ago, and he can’t remember what life was like without her in it.

Despite how the job sounds, they both loved every second of it. Especially when they worked together. When they weren’t busy, they were constantly messing with each other, usually it was him teasing her whenever she tripped over her own feet, almost spilling a plate or glass and when she’d come back behind the bar he’d be smirking “y’not drunk are yeh?” and she’d mumble a “shut up.” making him chuckle.

But they were incredibly soft for each other, there was no way around it.

One time, Harry called in sick, and if he would’ve seen the look of disappointment mixed with sadness on her face, he might have just said fuck it and came in to work just to make her happy or at least see her smile, despite the food posioning.

That’s what she did to him. All rationale was lost, even if it was just for a moment.

When he came back, his co-workers filled him in, telling him that she was all sad and pouting through the whole shift. It made his heart ache, made him want to kiss the pout right off her lips,

because her lips were so pretty.

But it also made his heart beat a little faster.

He caught himself staring more and more as the months went by, their friendship torturing him day by day. It was truly a sick joke—being her friend but not being able to feel her soft skin under his touch, kiss her anywhere, anytime he wanted.

Was this karma? What did he do to deserve this?

He’s never been a day dreamer, until now. She’s in his head all the time and he can’t stop thinking about what his life would be like if he could just muster up enough confidence to tell her that he loves the way she pushes her hair behind her ears, or how he’s been dying to kiss her since she walked in the door on her first day.

He remembers that day like it was yesterday.

***

Harry was wiping down the bar, cell phone cradled between his ear and shoulder as he listened to his boss tell him about his newest hire being a new waitress.

“Hope this one sticks.” he mumbled, a small smirk appearing on his face as he dried off the inside of one of the glasses. “M’not gettin’ paid to wait tables, Joe.”

“Oh piss off, I’m payin’ you more than that.” a laugh was shared between the two before he continued.

“She’s already been trained, but it’s her first day by herself, so be nice.”

“M’always nice. It’s those other vultures you’ve got to worry about.”

Harry wasn’t exaggerating. The other waitresses were like wild animals, they’d either attack you or try to have sex with you.

“Just look out for her, will you? Don’t want her bein’ eaten alive on her first day and then she’s too scared to come back.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, I’ll keep y’updated. Have fun on your holiday.”

“Thanks again for taking care of everything, I really appreciate it.”

“S’the least I could do after all you’ve done for me.” the humor in his voice slowly faded, his tone becoming more serious.

Don’t get soft on me now.” his response to Harry’s sentiment makes him chuckle.

“Okay, okay. But m’serious, don’ know where I’d be without your help.”

When he hung up the phone, as if on fucking cue, he hears the front door open.

***

Everything about her was perfect. Her hair looked like silk, even if it was tied back while she was working with some baby hairs falling around her face. Her skin was flawless—he loves it when she doesn’t wear any makeup, like today. He found her rosy cheeks and naturally long eyelashes to be undeniably adorable.

“H?”

His head snapped up at her voice. It was sweet, like the sugar he always puts on the rim of her glass when he makes her mojitos some nights after they close up. Harry thinks he’d do anything she wanted if she asked him nicely.

“Earth to Harry.” she jokingly waves her hand in front of his face. “It’s almost two.”

“Oh, shit. Wasn’t even lookin’ a’ the time.” he chuckled. “Thanks, love.”

“No problem.” Her cheeks were splashed with pink, looking at her shoes before turning to walk away.

To this day, Harry doesn’t know what on earth possessed him to do this. But for some reason, three words popped into his head.

Make a move.

“Hey.” he stops her from walking away by taking her hand and pulling her towards him.

“What?” she giggles as she turns her head to look at him.

“C’mere.”

The look on his face was giving her butterflies. He blinked slowly, a small smile curved across his lips.

“Got a new drink idea, can I try it out on ya?”

She lets out a nervous giggle before nodding her head.

She felt like an idiot because she really thought that he was going to kiss her. She wanted to feel his lips on her lips, her skin. And god, did he want to kiss her. He felt like an idiot because that wasn’t really a move. He wanted to kiss her, so fucking bad but he got nervous. How couldn’t he? She was his friend, and so, so beautiful. What if she didn’t want to be more than friends? It was a scary thought, rejection. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin their friendship, he cared about her too much to ruin that. Wouldn’t it be awkward, if things didn’t work out, or she didn’t want him in the first place, and they still had to work together? Harry just might have to crawl under a rock.

But she wore her heart on her sleeve, so she couldn’t really hide the sadness in her eyes as her gaze fell to her hands as he was mixing the contents that were going to go in the lowball glass. It pained him to see her anything but her usual bubbly, sweet self.

“S’wrong?” Harry frowned, but she shook her head.

“Nothin’. Just waiting on you, like always.”

His mouth fell open at your accusation.

“Since when?” he scoffs. “M’always waitin’ on you.”

“When?” she challenges, eyebrows furrowing.

Harry playfully rolls his eyes. “When we were goin’ t’that festival, or anytime we do somethin’ outside of work, yeh always take forever to get ready.”

Because she wanted to look super cute for you, you idiot.

“I messed up my makeup, okay? Gimme a break.”

She’s sitting on the bar stool and he’s behind the bar, leaning onto his elbows and stopping what he’s doing to look at her.

“Y’dont need tha’ stuff.”

She gives him a sheepish smile, but Harry’s not having any of it.

Here goes nothing.

“Hey.” he reaches over and puts a hand under her chin, finger brushing the skin of her jaw and his touch gives her butterflies. “Look a’ me?”

Her eyes flicker up to meet his, earning a smile on his pink lips.

“S’true. You’re beautiful and you don’t need it, okay?”

A soft smile graced her lips, making his small smile wider. “Okay, okay.”

“Alright, here.” he slid the glass across the bar top towards her. She takes a sip and her eyes light up, making his do the same.

“Mmm, it’s so good!” she looks up at him, eyes widening, making him laugh.

She loved his laugh.

“Know you like to start off with the fruity stuff.”

“Careful.” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “I know how much you love those cranberry vodkas.”

“And they’re delicious. Especially mine.”

“Definitely yours.” her comment makes Harry giggle, looking at his hands and you’re positive it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. He looks at her, flicking his head.

“C’mere, I’ll show yeh how t’make one.”

Her whole face lights up. “Really?” and her excitement is so adorable he can’t help but mirror her expression with a laugh.

“Mhm, c’mon.”

She’s standing behind the bar and Harry’s standing behind her, showing her the ropes, as he called it. But when she felt his chest pressed against her back as he went through the steps, she could no longer focus on anything he was saying, which worked in his favor because he stumbled across his words quite a bit at the feeling. They were physically closer than they’ve ever been and she smelled so fucking good. He rests his head on her left shoulder, gripping the bar top in front of her.

She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, and he finally speaks up.

“Wanna try?”

He picks up the lowball glass, bringing it up to her lips. He moves his hand, tilting the drink to meet your lips. The interaction was so intimate, and you could feel his breath on your ear.

“Good?”

His voice was deeper, sending shivers down her spinal cord. She nods and he moves beside her, (much to her disappointment) and leans one of his elbows onto the surface beside him. She turns to him, and takes the glass out of his grasp as he’s taking a sip.

“S’not nice!” he laughs as she takes a drink, giggling as he gets in her face.

“S’your turn to make me a drink now.”

One hour later and she was three drinks in, which meant that she was on the verge of drunk. She made him two replicas of the cocktail he’d helped her make just before, and he claimed that hers were just as good, but she still wasn’t too sure if he was letting her win or not. She wasn’t drunk, though.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.” the smirk sliding up his lips told a different story.

“Liar!” she giggled, and she tries to walk towards him but her legs betray her as she trips over her own sneakers and falls into his chest.

“Okay, you’re drunk.” he confirms with a chuckle, catching her by her forearms helping her to stand again.

“M’not drunk, shoelace is untied.” she tries to lift up her leg to show him the definitely loose laces, but she loses her balance and nearly falls onto the wood floor, and if Harry hadn’t grabbed her hand when he did she would’ve definitely had a sore backside.

“Maybe I am drunk.” she mumbles, pouting when she hears his chuckle. “Not funny, H.”

His stomach drops when he sees that she’s looking right at him with tears threatening to spill onto her soft cheeks.

“No, m’sorry love. Didn’t mean it, okay? Promise.” He uses his thumb to brush the skin just under her eye. “Please, don’t cry.”

The rest of the tears subside at Harry’s comforting gesture. They stood like that for a while, eye contact refusing to break before she spoke up.

“Do you like me?”

Did she really just say that? Was he that drunk? He was definitely more than tipsy, but did she really just say that?! Was he dreaming? Please let this not be a dream.

His heart thumped in his chest when her fingers started playing with his.

“Now what’s not to like about you, darlin’?”

That’s sweet, but not what I asked, she thinks to herself.

She could not believe the level of bravery in her blood right now. She wasn’t even that drunk and words that she thought she would never say were spilling out.

As she was about to respond, she lets out a yawn, her previous thoughts quickly slipping her mind.

“Tired?’ he questions as he cocks his head to the side, a grin sliding up his lips.

“Mhm. Still need to walk home.” she frowns and his eyes go wide.

“Can’t let y’walk home alone-”

“I do it every other night.” she protests, clearly getting frustrated.

The thought of her walking back to her apartment alone at 3 am, sober or not, made his stomach turn. He ignores her attempt at convincing him that she’s fine, because there is no way he’s letting this happen.

“ Y’can stay with me? S’just upstairs.”

His voice was quiet and it took a moment for her to register what he’d said.

“Wait, what d’you mean upstairs?”

“There’s a flat upstairs, s’mine.”

The confusion on her face made his heart want to melt.

“C’mon, I’ll carry you.”

She feels another yawn coming and he picks her up—one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back. She lays her head on his shoulder, and he’s so warm—she can’t help but nuzzle her face into his neck and he thinks he could very well pass out, but he won’t, because he’s holding her, obviously.

He sets her down onto his bed, and tells her she can pick whatever looks comfy from his dresser to wear as pj’s.

“M’gonna go get some water, okay? Be right back, love.”

She picks out a stones t-shirt and changes into that because honestly, it’s one of the first things she sees and it smells like him and she’s tired.

He comes back upstairs and she’s laying down on his dark sheets, her back to him with her hair fanned out on his pillow. He walks around to the other side and sits down next to her. She feels the bed dip, opens one eye and pouts when she sees the water bottle in his hand.

“I know love, just drink some for me? Y’know it’ll make you feel better tomorrow.”

He encourages her to sit up and he doesn’t let her lay back down until she’s had at least half, and then covers her up with his blanket before

“I’ll just be on the sofa. If y’need anything in the middle of the night let me know, alright?”

“No, stay.”

His breath hitched inside his throat. He swallowed thickly before replying.

“You want me to stay?”

She nods. “Don’t leave me.”

She wants him to stay.

“I won’t, s’alright.”

After a small freak out episode in the bathroom while he changed, he gets into bed next to you.

Harry always had trouble falling asleep, but tonight it only took a few minutes and he was softly snoring into his pillow.

The light peeking through the curtains was what slowly pulled her out of sleep.

“G’mornin’ sleepyhead.”

She couldn’t help the lazy smile across her lips, letting out a giggle as she stretched.

“What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. Do you want somethin’ to eat?”

“Can I have some waffles?”

So, he made her some waffles. Some for him too. Harry didn’t have a dining table so he insisted she stay put while he make them breakfast in bed. He watches her take her first bite and he swears that this is the moment when he truly fell in love with her.

“Mmmm.” she hums, eyes closed with a dopey, syrupy smile across her lips. “So good.”

The reaction made him quite literally crack up laughing, because those waffles were from his bloody freezer and she was acting like Harry had just ordered room service to their hotel room in Paris.

He’d take her to Paris.

“So, how’d you end up living here?” she wondered out loud, breaking Harry out of his daydream.

He proceeded to tell her everything. About his piece of shit dad, his mum getting sick, getting jumped, and how Joe took Harry in and was the father he’d never had. When he’s finished, her hand is on the back of his neck pulling him into a protective hug, lightly toying with his hair.

“I’m so sorry, H.”

Her voice is just above a whisper and it makes Harry’s eyelashes flutter.

She pulls away and they instantly find each other’s eyes. He gives her a small smile, as if to say, it’s okay.

She looks at him with doe eyes and he can’t help but reach over and pushes her hair behind one of her ears, the space in between their faces becoming smaller and smaller, until his nose brushes hers.

“Can I kiss you?”

She gives him a small nod.

He cautiously presses his lips to hers. The kiss is everything both of them have ever dreamed of and so much more. Her hand is still on the back of his neck and he’s moved to cradle her cheeks in his hands, and they fit perfectly.

Neither of you want the kiss to end, both of them breathless as Harry’s forehead is pressed against hers.

“I really, really like you, had feelings for you for a long time.” you heart flutters in your chest at his sweet words. He felt like he couldn’t breathe as he waited for you to say something, anything.

“I really, really like you too.”

This is my baby, be nice to her. I’ve pulled many all nighters to make this as close to perfect as it can be so I hope you love it <3

Thank you to @oh-honey-styles , @for-fucks-sake-h and @andwhenshesays for putting this Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge together, I’m so glad I could be a part of it!

BIG THANKS to my babies @goldenfeelin , @bfharry and @avhrodite for truly hyping me up and being so supportive, I love you. <3

#pypfc

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lasttimeonthenegaverse · 4 years

Text

The Life and Times of the Negaverse Chapter 3

Dinners and Demands

She let her feet guide her and...she stopped right before the kitchen. Dinner. That meant eating, that meant sitting down and having time to process what she was feeling. She gulped. It had seemed so simple, then again, her fits of emotion were always simple in the short term. And then it was a barrage of apologies for what she’d done in her fury, or devastation. Like leaving Da...She shook her head. No, no thinking of that. She was just…..march ahead. Gosalyn had been placed at one end of the table, LaunchPad close to her. Negaduck sat on the other side of him so she was to sit next to her new….. charge. Ah there was the instant regret. What had she been thinking accepting even partial responsibility for a child? She wasn’t allowed to watch the other Gosalyn without supervision from the girl’s overprotective father. It was genuinely... “She always overthink this much?” LaunchPad’s voice startled her from her own thoughts and looked up to see that...all of them were staring at her. “It’s okay. She doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to. She’s probably just thinking about her life and all the things she’d be giving up.” Gosalyn’s voice was a small whine that tugged at her heart strings. “It’s alright Miss -Not this- Morgana. We’ll be fine on our own. You can go back home. Your Gosalyn needs you!” LaunchPad said nothing, but he bit his beak. NegaDuck turned to glare at the girl and the fury in his gaze gave her the strength she needed. She had to be here to protect that girl. After all, NegaDuck had come to ask for help. How much worse than him were the creatures that always took her! “Well she may but...you need me more” Morgana smiled and tried to move…..and noticed that from her knees down was encased in a thick and solid block of ice. “Sorry about the cold feet. I’ll handle that in a moment” Well that was embarrassing. She gave a huff. Once upon a time her powers were nearly immeasurable and every spell found it’s target. Now she froze up like a child put on the spot at a family dinner. Morgana looked down, focusing fire downward, but paying attention to the math even as she let her elemental magic flare. The only thing more embarrassing than cold feet would be giving herself a nasty case of scorch. NegaDuck would think she was useless and her magic was too dangerous, much like… “I thought you said she came willingly?” LaunchPad murmured to his husband. Negaduck shrugged.

“She did. And not even on false pretences.” A raised brow from the Pelican. “Promise . I mighta just brought uncomfortable truths to light….slid a few…. ideas in.” LaunchPad sighed. There was no trying to fix whatever terrible plan had been set in motion. Best to let it run it’s awful course and figure out how to slot the pieces later. Granted...last time he did that they ended up with a kid...ah well. What could really happen this time? “Okay. Then” Morgana sat down, the bottom of her dress still a bit damp. “What’s for dinner?” She asked gently...also because….what was she looking at? She tilted her head as she looked at it. It looked like her slime cream pies, but the wrong color. Plus, Dark never even tried her food let alone have LaunchPad make the recipe. And why would they be having dessert for their main course?

“Leftover Casserole” LaunchPad scoffed. “And I’m a better cook then Negs so enjoy.” NegaDuck looked offended at the accusation….and didn’t refute it so…. Morgana nodded and took her fork to the dish…..then couldn’t pull it back out. Gosalyn seemed to have the same problem, she wasn’t actually eating the dinner, her fork was stuck and she was nibbling at some chips. That wasn’t good. “You know” And he glared at her as NegaDuck snickered. “When the texture is this sticky, forks have more spaces to hold onto.” She wiggled her fingers and turned it into a serrated spoon. “This is usually best when the food is still moving, but this is even tougher than Tar Rice. Good on you. Mine falls apart.” She looked back down and sharply twisted her serrated edge into the sludge, effectively severing it. With a wave of her hand the other three forks were similarly transfigured. “I was only asked to help with watching and raising. Watch is easy, I’ll ward her room tonight. But raise, well, I defer to the parents. That being said...I don’t really think chips are a good idea for dinner.” “You haven’t tasted the food” NegaDuck smirked. Gosalyn giggled while LaunchPad glared at his husband. Unperturbed, the duck hopped up to fill with water three glasses and…..and a sparkly pink cup. She didn’t tend to drink tap but still...at seeing what was obviously Gosalyn’s cup Morgana felt the smile pulling at her beak. It was clear that this child was surrounded by love and so far better than Dark had thought…..then she had a bite of food. Oh…. oh ….oh no. A hand flew to her beak and it didn’t matter that LaunchPad looked deeply offended or that NegaDuck and Gosolyn were both holding back their laughter. Oh NO . How was this child alive? In fact, how were any of them alive. Oh JEEZ it was like it was expanding in her mouth and getting stuck in her throat. Coating everything and filling her mouth with the revolting taste of decay. She needed….. Morgana didn’t really register the glass of water in her hand. Not until she was taking great greedy gulps of the water. She only stops drinking when she’s choking, a lack of air from drinking too much too fast. Even then the taste still clings in her mouth. Negaduck is trying and failing to pretend that he’s not moments away from bursting into hysterical laughter and little Gosalyn takes a bite of a chip that somehow seems….. smug.

“What” Morgana manages “Is in this?” “It’s not that bad” LaunchPad scoffs, managing to wrangle a bite of his own. The second it passes through his beak he winces. “Okay….maybe this batch is pretty bad.” He hums and has to Morgana’s growing horror another bite. “Okay, you maybe weren't exaggerating too badly. The spoon is full again and her hand finally flares out, magic wrapping around his wrist. “Why?” Her voice is soft in terror, even as he tries to fight the spell, to shove more of... that into his mouth. Oh sweet merciful magic no wonder the child was eating chips. LaunchPad frowned and shrugged slightly. “It’s what’s for dinner. We gotta eat something . No cook got kidnapped.” Her look of purest horror was met with a shrug. “It’s not the worst thing we’ve eaten. The Hotdogs mighta gone bad...or the custard was scorched.” She had to take a deep breath. ‘Leftover casserole’ was what he’d called it. So….what that probably meant was that all of the leftovers went into a pot….and….

“When can I go back to my Saint Canard?” She asked suddenly. A snort of laughter came from somewhere but she couldn’t identify where. It wasn’t NegaDuck. His face was twisted somewhere between disbelief and rage.

“Seriously? Giving up after a lil food?” He snarled. “You wanna go running right back in the arms of your loving precious little can’t even trust you Darkwing. Do you even know how hard it was to make myself ask for your help-”

“With protecting that child?” Morgana asked, stone faced. Had NegaDuck’s words hurt? Obviously. But he was Negaduck it was in his nature to be needlessly cruel and it was in the nature of all parents to lash out when they were worried about their children. The rationale didn’t stop everyone’s feathers from standing on end due to the influx of electricity in the room. “I plan to. The first thing is to make sure she has nutritional food. I happen to be a cook. Though…” And there was a stray flame that sprung up on the table. She used her hand to stamp it out, but everyone was looking at the very literal heat from her tone. “Some people, whom will remain unnamed, do not even TRY my cooking, there are LOADS of others that like it and at the very least it’s editable.” LaunchPad growled and magic or no she had the common decency to smile at him “You said this batch was particularly bad. I’m sure it’s fine most of the time. I just” He calmed slightly, but still looked a bit livid. “cooking on rotations? Please?” The word seemed to throw him for a loop before he snorted, a crooked grin slicing across his beak. His grin causes her to calm down just slightly. “Lemmie get ya summore water” LaunchPad’s smile never faltered. “Fer de rest of your food. Can’t go back on an empty stomach.” There’s something mildly feral in that grin. Apparently he took the slight to his cooking to heart. NegaDuck glares at him slightly, but he seems oddly chipper as he goes to grab water. “Really I just need the vibrational frequency of this plane of existence and I can whip up a spell to slide between them as easily as walking to the store.” She tried to rationalize. NegaDuck snarled. She could go between!? Well that was an unfortunate development. What the fuck kind of havock could she reak on his kid leaving her alone whenever it struck her fancy. LaunchPad seemed to have the same idea. No faith, none whatsoever. He could solve this! He was Negaduck “We don’t know that information so Negs’d have to take you. He’ll do it in the morning.” LP was grinning as he placed the glass of water in front of her. NegaDuck’s eye twitched. He was NOT going to spend all night arguing and STILL end up with an ‘I told you so’ nope, nuh uh, NEVER

“Why exactly .” He started as Morgana took a reluctant bite of food and shot back the whole glass of water to wash out the taste. “Do you need to go back?” He was forcing his voice to stay even, but her hand had gone up to her head. She didn’t seem to notice that Launch looked pleased. NegaDuck sighed. His Husband was so unbelievably petty. But hey, he loved the man for a reason. “Food of course. And A few spell ingredients to better ward Gosalyn.” She was frowning and checked the glass she’d been given. “That was tap water wasn’t it?” She groaned slightly. “The pipes in every St. Canard are bad.” She lamented. That caused frowns around the table.

“You’ve tasted water like that afore?” LP asked, concern sneaking into his tone. He was fine with randomly poisoning people, but by trying to abandon his daughter she was now his enemy and he didn’t like the idea that someone might finish killing her first. She nodded, before NegaDuck spoke again. “Why don’t I just take a duffel bag and clean out your house?” He didn’t want to Haul around duffels of useless shit. It was better than the alternative of her going home and meeting up with Dipshit Duck and letting him sweet talk her into forgiving him and leaving this Gos in the dust. “Almost all of the Tap water in Saint Canard. The water at the tower of course but sometimes even the water in my house.” She shrugged to LaunchPad before snickering at NegaDuck. “My house can’t be cleaned out. There are multiple rooms and multiple pocket dimensions in each room. Not to mention protective spells to keep others away” Nega had to bite back a scoff at that. After all, her protective wards hadn’t been able to do shit to keep him from breaking and entering multiple times. But….he hadn’t grabbed at anything. “Tap water gives me headaches…..though…. bag ….You may be able to steal one item. My universal satchel. It connects directly to my home. If I had that then I could get what I need without leaving.” “Yeah, great. Tell me what the purse looks like and I’ll pick it up tomorrow” Gosalyn’s face fell into a pout that was the likely precursor to a screaming sension. “It’ll take me what, an hour, three at most. I’ll leave first thing in the morning and be back by lunch. Right there, right back.” LauchPad was ignoring his poor Husband trying to appease their daughter and focused more on the fact that the woman in front of him had apparently been actively drinking water spiked with trace amounts of bleach. Who was trying to….well, bleach in trace amounts would only suffice in giving her massive headaches, palpitations after a while but who did she piss off that much? That wasn’t outright kill, that was ‘get revenge’ like how he was getting revenge on her for trying to leave his kid. If she had enemies like that on the other side maybe she was good for Gos. “It’s a small round red bag. Blood red not Crimson. It has pentagrams in shimmering black. Glittering Black and it’s the bag of souls. Exactly one cobweb or you’re picking up multiverse bags and those are nothing but trouble.” NegaDuck listened carefully, though he seemed more annoyed than anything. It was just the way his face fell. Bloodred bag, shimmering black pentagram, single cobweb. “Yeah, yeah, yeah- bright red glitter black lotta cobwebs I got it.” It was hilarious the instant offence that spread across her face, as well as how she half rose to curse him out but ended up stuttering and half swallowing her words trying to keep Gosalyn of people from hearing them. It was fucking glorious the indignant blush that painted her face. He let the smirk he’d been holding back slice across his beak. “Morgs. Blood Red, one cobweb, fuckin relax.” She wasn’t relaxed. Her knuckles were taunt she was clenching her fists so hard. Delightful . He chuckled at her and smirked at his daughter. “Alright Buttercup, time for sleep. You feel like kickin and screamin or are you gonna do your sweet act to trick me into not leaving?” She pouted at him again and glanced over at Morgana. Ah, she was going to be a monster . He huffed but went to pick up the overdressed nine year old. It was made extra difficult by the 20 pounds of lace and tulle that she was draped in. Still, he could still pick her up and so he did “Puttin the bitch ta bed” He called down. He didn’t need to turn to see that Morgana had locked up at what he’d called his kid. She’d learn. “Probably best not to go up there for a bit” LaunchPad smirked. “Guns have a tendency to pop out during bedtime.” Morgana frowned and looked upstairs. What were the chances that This LaunchPad was joking? Hers was a joker at times. “Do you get your own water?” And her attention was dragged back to what had to be the strangest question she’d ever been asked. The other duck was leaning forward, mirth dancing in startlingly blue eyes. Morgana’s hands clenched again as she looked at this man. This was and wasn’t LaunchPad all in the same vein. It was disconcerting the clash in her mind between ‘This is LaunchPad and you’re safe’ versus ‘This is NegaDuck’s husband and so extremely dangerous.’ In the end her mind couldn’t stay actively worried when it was LaunchPad so she tested the waters to see how dissimilar they were. “I never would have guessed NegaDuck was married” She said instead. The only answer LaunchPad gave was a raise of a brow. There was a sort of stand off for a moment before he relented, relaxing his shoulders in a way that made it seem….not like he wouldn’t but less like he was going to launch across the table to snap her neck with the flex of an oversized arm. “Isn’t Darkwing married?” He asked, genuinely curious. He knew the answer by how her face went red and her back straightened. “Ah…..is he dating” Her face was bewildered, but quickly shifting to mildly offended pride. Dating her... “ Ah Okay. Just figured out something’s all.” His smile was amused now and that foreboding feeling caused the feathers on the back of her neck to perk up. “What” She asked carefully. “Did you figure out?” The dangerous man gave her a once over before thinking and letting out a dark chuckle.

“Maybe not figured it all the way out…..i think someone was trying to kill you” “WHAT”

“Or” He continued as if she hadn’t just screamed. “To get you out of the way.” He shrugged. He kinda wanted a camera for the look on her face. He’d look at it later when she wasn’t actively panicking. About half of his instinctive hatred to her was the fact that it was MORGANA. She came by once a month to try and steal his husband while threatening both himself and his daughter. The only reasons she wasn’t dead were A-he couldn’t figure out how to kill magic and B- an old associate was oddly Enchanted by her and wanted to date her if ever she stopped her obsessive campaign on a married man. He didn’t know much about this Morgana and while it didn’t take a lot to make him want to torture someone, it took something...something worse than her not wanting to eat admittedly horrible food. The look on her face was….shit. He didn’t like having a heart. And the lady was endearing herself simply by coming to help out with Gos….and he’d already tried to kill her over a misunderstanding. “What are you talking about!?” She demanded. And there were sparks again, the house lighting up and dying down in flashes as she affected the wiring. “Why would anyone be trying to kill me!?”

“You’re a powerful sorceress?” He ventured. That wasn’t the reason she was being targeted if his hunch was right. But it was a pretty good reason nonetheless of why someone would want her gone. Her face fell and the electricity faded from the air as she realized that he was right.

“Oh…..but who would be close enough to me to kill me? And how would they go about murdering…..well, me.” And that sounded like the Morgana he knew and hated. “I’m more than a bit durable.” That sounded less like the Morgana he knew and hated. Enough less to prompt an answer.

“Tap Water.” Her face morphed into one of confusion. “Metallic taste plus headache means your glass was spiked with trace amounts of bleach…..the glass I just handed you was spiked …..and you said ” He shrugged. “Did anyone in your dimension hand you tap water consistently? Call it bad pipes?” She stopped to think. The only person that got her something to drink….and she only took it because he was so nice….. “your LaunchPad get you tap water from bad pipes?” And by that face it hadn’t occurred to her. As confusion came onto her features he cut off the question. “That’s what I would do if you were dating Negs and we weren't married. Or I’m wrong...I’m just speaking from my own experience. Other me might not do the same.” But by the look on her face….. “I…..he was my friend ” Fuck. Yup.

“He probably wasn’t trying to kill you.” The other Duck admitted. “In trace amounts bleach just gives ya headaches.” He said it like it made things better. There was a rumbling sound and it was his only real warning before the raincloud started. Surprisingly, it didn’t turn the room into a monsoon. A small localized hailstorm over her head. Her fists were still clenched tightly and she was taking deep breaths. “You’re lying” She said coldly. It didn’t take a genius to realize that she was more upset with herself than him. “That’s impossible. LaunchPad is my…..” The storm got worse, now focused entirely on her side of the room. He idly debated internally on how much larger the storm could get before she started to damage the internal structure to the house. If it got too much bigger he’d throw a frying pan at her. She was way too far in her head to stop it and it would just knock her out, she seemed to be dealing with some shit. He sighed. “Look” And she was still hearing because she looked up at the word. But she was half frozen and he wasn’t good at comforting people. A LOT better than his husband but that wasn’t saying much. A slug could comfort people better that Negsy. “Ya still plannin on helpin with Gos?” The wind raged and an unused bulb popped, glass shattering on her side of the kitchen. To her credit, as destroyed as she looked, there wasn’t a second of hesitation.

“Well Obviously! She needed help NegaDuck said. I’m not leaving a child out in the cold. Nor am I subjecting her to being fed poison.” Her voice was haughty and proud and she was downright offended at the suggestion of leaving. Well damn. Definitely not this Morg “Then does it really matter right now?” She blinked at him. “Call this a….a well needed break . You’ve been on edge all night and while you’re probably different from this Morgana, you’ve gotta be more put together if Negs thought you could help Gossy. It’s not the issue right now. It’ll work itself out or it won’t. So calm down before ya break the house.” It probably only worked because she was distraught. Her fists clenched even more tightly before releasing. “A moment.” She looked around to what her natural power had done just lashing out as it was. Though she had magic, Math was used to guarantee specific outcomes. Otherwise you ended up with….She sighed and ran a few quick actual calculations, condensing the storm to her hand where she squashed it. “Sorry. Today has been….not very good. Counting the two rescheduled dates and the secret identity I seem to be the only one unknowing of…..this month hasn’t been very good.” She was trembling with the effort of keeping her magic contained. LaunchPad got up and turned to a cabinet, rifling around before.

“Here” And a tumbler of whisky was put in front of her. “Not poisoned this time.” She was looking at it distrustfully which…..was fair . He poured himself a glass as well. “Look your magic goes crazy when you’re upset so maybe talk about it before ya get stressed by the kid. And since I’m the only one here, unfortunately….”

ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND

Gosalyn was quickly changed into her preferred nightgown. Pink and with a skirt made of ruffles. She went from daytime dress up doll to night time Barbie and it was a truly sickening sight. But she had a habit of trying to make him gag when she was pissed off at him. She crawled into bed and pulled white lacy sheets up to her shoulders, turning from him in pure rage. That earned an eyebrow raise and a cruel chuckle as he grabbed his secret weapon. “As angry as ya wanna be. I got somthin ya need.” She lifted her little head and glared back at him...he waved the hairbrush at her mockingly. “Lil hint. When ya bluff, make sure your bases are covered.” “I can get Papa to do my hair.” She sniped. He nodded, she could….. “That means giving up a Daddy Daughter tradition since yer hair got washed that first time….You really wanna break tradition?” She didn’t like deviating from her patterns. It was a weird thing that he’d noticed about his kid and used to his advantage. Like the fact that she couldn’t sleep in an empty house and her obsession with ‘pretty’ that bled into the poor innocent room. As he suspected, she sat all the way up and turned away, arms crossed as she pouted. He took the permission for what it was and ambled over to the queen bed, climbing unto it behind the little princess of chaos. Deft fingers wiggled off the rubber band keeping her ringlets in place before he started to brush her hair out, far more gently than one may have thought him capable of. “Tomorrow you be nice to miss Morg kay. Maybe keep a babysitter for longer than an hour. Might be fun.” Gos, in true Gos fashion let out a sound halfway between an enraged shriek and a pitiful whine.

“She’s a selfish lying bitch.” Gos pouted. “She doesn’t even want to be here and she’s going to skip away the moment she’s not needed.” Negaduck snorted at that, making sure to twist his wrist with the grain of the hair so that any tangles wouldn’t cause the kid pain. “Why’d you even go get her? You missed out on Tank’s research.” “Fuck, ‘sonly been a day the lil Tesla’s got research already? I thought he’d just take in intake...vitals and shit.” She giggled brightly and while he didn’t mind the sound he wished she wouldn’t do it while he was brushing her hair. She would put spikes under his side of the bed if he miscounted and brushed less than 100 times. “He’s really happy with the specimen. Enough water caused full reconstitution and whatever keeps him alive is not the same thing keeping him stable. Tankie started working on looking at DNA to try and do a normal intake but nothing about him is normal. It’s no wonder you have such a hard time capturing him. Not only does every water drop have his DNA in it, but water that’s introduced to him shares it as well. Electroshock causes the new water to lose the connection until reintroduced but only causes a weakening in the bonds keeping his form stable.” Negaduck rolled his eyes, but considered the hair adequately brushed and so started to pull it into a tight braid. “Only you would pick a Poindexter as a bodyguard” He remarked as he started on the next pigtail.

“Minion Daddy. I need some brain to balance out my brute of a bodyguard.” He bit his beak from reminding his daughter that they were both bodyguards since she hadn’t officially notified Tank of his change in status, even though he’d had the promotion for almost six months now. She didn’t like change.

“Speakin ‘a bodyguards.” She froze. Oh boy, this would have to be handled with all the fineness of disarming a bomb. Something he wasn’t too used to doing since it was more fun to pull all the wires and send it off to doom some chumps at random.

“Honky-Tonks and Tankie do a great job on their own.” She spat out, bitter. “I wouldn’t of even got taken if it wasn’t for Dorkwing Dipstick. That fucker was the problem but he allowed my plan to be set in motion.” Fuck the bomb, this was a nuclear warhead and it was leaking radiation. Still… “I don’t need another bodyguard. I’ve got my two, Papa, and if you stayed around-” “If I stayed around you’d have a bigger target on your back and you know it.” There was a crash from downstairs, but he’d worry about it only if he heard a gun go off. “You know those idiot heros are tryin ta kill me. What better way then if they figure out I actually got a soft spot fer my kid? They’d catch you, drag me outta hidin, then put an end ta my villianny once and fer all. I know you’d avenge me but...I’m selfish. When my lil monster turns St. Canard to rubble I wanna be flippin the switch fer her and revelin in her twisted laugh.” She turned then, hugging him tightly. He returned it and motioned for her to get back into position so that he could start her second braid. “Miss Morg’s gonna look out fer ya when Papa and I can’t be around. If ya play yer cards right, she might even teach ya some spells.” “Miss Morgana hates me. She hates all normals. She certainly wouldn’t just ladida tell them the secrets of her ‘I have magic so I’m better than you’ power.” “Ah-Ha! You’re right. But that’s this Morgana. She’s a fuckin bitch. ‘Swhy I stole another Morgana. She’s the opposite of this one. Doesn’t hold her magic as close. If anyone can swindle some arcane secrets it’s you.” She pouted, but nodded.

“Lady’s a bitch and a liar. She said she wouldn’t let you leave and she sent you away in the next breath.” NegaDuck thought on that for a moment, whether it was best to correct her or not. But she wouldn’t want to hear that her new guard had other commitments that might succeed in getting her back. That would either make her try to kill the woman before she got attached or try to kill said commitments. While it would be funny to watch her try to kill DarkWing, it was ultimately far too dangerous for her to attempt to take on that LaunchPad. “Three hours.” He settled on, wrapping the braids together with a ribbon. He grabbed his blaster. “You wanna hear how I almost killed Dipshit Last…” Oh right, time had gotten messed up. “Time?” He asked. Gos yawned and snuggled up to him. “Aww, tired? I’ll go” He wiggled out from under her and tucked her in before turning to leave. Before he was even halfway to the door he heard the safety click off on the blaster he’d just produced. His shark teeth were on full display as he turned with a grin, both arms raised to the girl aiming at him. “Did I happen ta ferget somin?” He asked. The barrel glowed as she started to compress the trigger. His grin got wider as he waltzed back over. “Aight Alright. Gimmie that, you suck with the recoil.” And he plucked the gun from her and settled her back in to get retucked. It was with a few deep breaths to clear out his craggley voice. He could carry a tune, but his voice itself wasn’t much to write home. Still...he cozied up behind her and started to sing.

Rest your eyes, little girl pink

You live with Murdering Monsters it’s true

And tough we may maim, terrorize and destroy

This one spot is kept safe and pretty for you.

She’s tired, and sleeping by the time he finishes the short version of the lullaby. He reaches over and grabs a porcelain doll from the wall, one with a yellow dress falling like shooting stars and black hair in an elaborate bun. He maneuvers himself out of her grip and replaces the spot with the doll. She cuddles it and the thorns around his heart clench a bit more tightly at seeing the sight. He scoffs and leaves the room before he can get sappy. After all, he’d only be gone three hours tops.

DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD

Three days. Her house wasn’t that….well, it was that large and difficult to get lost in but it tended to pop out guests wherever their intention was. And she’d told him exactly where to go. Had he managed to get lost trying to find her secrets? Did he get trapped in the soul bag? He’d been joking about which bag to pick, but what if he honestly forgot which one it was. It shouldn’t have taken this much time. And she was doing what little she could with fake ingredients. She’d warded the house itself from anyone that had ill intent. Well, any normal. It wouldn’t stop the superheroes it was...flimsy at best. She’d seen the girl eyeing her ring and gave it to her with the claim that it matched her dress. The fact that it did was a happy coincidence. And she was watching to make sure Gosalyn was still wearing it.

That being said….since LaunchPad was out more often than not, she had a pretty good hint of just who was trying to kill her this time. At first they could be written off as cute little pranks. The first night NegaDuck didn’t come back, there were spikes in the bed that had been assigned. It was only after waking up with a pleasant realignment in her spine that she realized that for most people, that was probably uncomfortable. She’d accepted a cup of coffee from the sweet girl only for LaunchPad to snatch it away and toss it into a potted plant…..the plant withered and died. Then there was corrosive acid in the shampoo and luckily she dropped the bottle. The problem with any of these attempts was that….she was made of magic. Even if she was burned she’d have been fine in an hour. Even Bleach water. It affected her...she just healed a bit faster. Hmmm, maybe none of them realized that. That being said, it was amazing how creative little kids could get. Belladonna Berry cookies last night. “Miss Morgana” She resisted the urge to hex the adorable little monster. Gosalyn was holding up a glass of yellow liquid….. steaming yellow liquid. “Mrs. MuddleFoot made Lemonade. Do you want some? It’s oh so yummy!” Morgana took a deep breath. Why yes nursemaid, let her be Juliet, she’d happily down the poison. The thought caused a smile to pull at her lips. Any foolhardy Romeo for this child would be dead long before the impromptu wedding, she’d lure him to a trap for the fun of it. “That’s alright.” She smiled brightly at the girl. She wasn’t going to walk into that trap. And Gos pouted. Morgana very carefully ruffled her ringlets in a way that wouldn’t actually harm them. She’d have to dodge a subtle death threat then. LaunchPad had spent almost an hour curling it this morning. “How about a walk to the bakery. You said that’s where his old portal was.” That and she had a sneaking suspicion that the child had a fondness for the cookies there. Gosayln was still pouting. “If I let you poison me with….” Morgana looked skeptically at the ‘lemonade’ “Whatever Tank cooked up, then will you stop sulking and not try to kill me at dinner? Besides, your Papa’s cooking is going to try that anyway.” The little girls’ shoulders sagged, but she must have been really hopeful about this batch because she smiled and held it up. “Cheers.” The sorceress said with a mild wince. To Tank’s credit it did taste like Lemonade. Had it not been smoking or offered by a child that wanted her dead she may have actually brought it. Speaking of Tank, the scientist was peering out of his garage, the full chemistry set still running as his face fell. He snapped in disappointment and grabbed a notebook to recalculate some numbers. “Alright, lets go for a walk and get you some air.” Morgana ordered lightly. “I’ll get you extra cookies for the attempt.” She’d stopped taking being targeted personally when LaunchPad coughed up some spikes and half threated to make Gosalyn actually eat his cooking.

ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND

Her head was pounding. Morgana felt something like static on the back of her throat. She rose slowly, willing the world to stop spinning. It wasn’t quite working. Someone shoved a glass of water into her hand. She identified it was water by the fact that it was wet and tasted like nothing and wasn’t making her dizzy like a drink would.

“According ta Tank, your powers should start coming back by now.” She chanced a look up to see LaunchPad...he looked terrible. He had a black eye and a busted beak and was leaning heavily on one side. “Hey do me next wouldya?” He gestured at her body and she looked down. Her dress was ripped and filthy and her body was covered in quickly healing bruises. LauchPad must have seen the confusion on her face. “It was an ambush. The Tired Three attacked, demanding to know where Drippy was. Bush Breath used a tree to make off with Gos and when I brought you back here Tank told me what his formula did.”

“It’s like the fuckers have a TRACE to know when to fuck shit up.” Morgana blinked. She was in the living room, draped over the couch. NegaDuck was also in the room, but angrily pacing in front of the T.V. cursing up a storm. Trace….OH! Right. “Don’t worry I’m wat….WHERE WERE YOU!!!” Her pain is momentarily forgotten as she establishes that this man was missing which was what caused Gosalyn to try and kill her in the first place. He at least had the decency to look ashamed for a moment. “Score I couldn’t pass up.” He indicated the bags of loot on the ground. She glared at him and through the corner of her eye was pleased to note that LauchPad had a similar expression. “I GOT THE BAG!” And he had the audacity to toss it at her. But a cursory glance confirmed that yes, this was the right bag. She placed it on her lap and felt for her magic. Whatever Tank had done, he’d muted it somehow. A regular enchantress would need another hour or two before they were up to speed…..luckily, she was a ‘McCawber’ She pulled herself to a sitting position and focused herself inward. A click here, a spring there….and she gave a great breath as the power flowed through her once more. It had been about five minutes of meditation. Five minutes were...a lot her apparently. The two men had already complied a list of where the girl may be and were working on ambush options. “I’m watching her.” Morgana said, raising herself from the couch and doing her mental math. “Shussh. I need to just pop over and grab her so my math has to be perfect.” As she said even that, her eyes turned white. LaunchPad and Negaduck glanced at each other, but both kept their beaks shut as a soft fog filled the room...on their side.

“I don’t know where he might be Mr Quacks and Jacks. I’m so so so sorry.” Gosalyn gave a teary eyed sniff. “If I did. I tell you!” QuakerJack looked for a moment into soft innocent green eyes, blown wide from the terror of her ordeal with Negaduck. No one knew who it was that the tyrant had gotten to travel with her this time, but the woman had at least gone down fairly easily. He sighed, knowing that they weren't going to get any information from NegaDuck’s captive.

“Okay sweetie. Can you at least tell me who pulled you from the lab angel?” Her eyes were teary. Uh oh. How many assets did her tormentor have? LaunchPad and the MuddleFoots were all accounted for. Before she could answer, her ring started glowing. She jumped away from the smoke so the three took the hint to try and get away as well, but it quickly filled the room, a massive stormcloud with a figure shrouded in the mists.

SHE IS MINE

As the words echoed and billowed they were accentuated with thunder and lightning.

The figure was as big or bigger than the mists, only seen in sections, an ice cold hand just barely grazing past, a blood red eye blinking from behind.

YOU PEONS ARE NOT TO TOUCH MINE

The lightning seemed to know not to get close to the only one that could use it. Instead, MegaVolt shivered beneath the gale force winds hurtling around icy rain.

OR I WILL COME AGAIN AND LEAVE NAUGHT BUT DEATH

The minor fog cleared in the room as Morgana’s eyes stopped glowing. But as the fog cleared it left something that hadn’t been there before….rather, some one. “How” LaunchPad started, seeing his daughter, unharmed but a little shaken “did you manage to” “I said not to worry. I’m watching her.” Morgana smirked. Then she sighed. Poisoned twice, lost her powers, charge kidnaped, nearly actually killed. “Though I think that’s enough excitement for today.” She shook her head. “I’m going upstairs to take a nice hot shower with non corrosive acid thank you very much.” There was some law of her life. There had to be. She barely even turned when she felt the minor ward snap like a too tight piana wire, an instant before the roof second floor was gone. What in the name of Magic

“OH Nega Darling! Your Better half has come to free you from the insignificant insects you call a spouse and daughter!!!!!!” Rather than surprise, the room was a chorus of groans.

“I could set my watch to this nut.” LauchPad murmured a split second before he was encased in a shimmering pink bubble, which shot into the sky. Gosalyn was given the same treatment. The woman that had called out floated over, dress whipping around her, all calm pastels-sky blue and soft gold. Her long white hair floated in a cloud around her, the color marred only by two black stripes. But her face was indistinguishably…..

“You have got to be kidding me” Morgana muttered, looking up at…. herself apparently.

#morgana macawber #nega launchpad #nega launchpad mcquack #nega gosalyn #gosalyn mcquack #NegaDuck #negadrakepad #Negaduck is a good dad #People are surprised #NegaGos is a monster #People are STILL surprised #Bad cooking #Bad guy doesn't mean Bad person #Bad person doesn't mean amoral #NegaDuck has crime related ADD

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louisishj334 · 3 years

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How to lose $1 million and risk it all again

When Abbas Dayekh was 18 several years aged, he walked confidently to the reception of Sussex Location, London Enterprise University’s primary campus, and asked: “Where can I enrol?” Safety advised him he would have to wait a several years. Dayekh was in the wrong spot. He was in search of Regent’s University London, exactly where his parents experienced sent him to check a BA (Hons) in Worldwide Enterprise with French. Dayekh, ethnically Lebanese, is from Nigeria, the grandson of the textiles’ industrialist. He was sent to the united kingdom to achieve knowledge, then return and insert benefit inside the loved ones business.

Dayekh, CEO and founder of OyaNow, an application-primarily based shipping and delivery service in Nigeria, chuckles within the memory. It’s not the first time he has taken a detour in his life, and it possibly was one of many additional pleasant – and less expensive - events. With no doubt, one of the most tricky was having to notify his mom he experienced shed all her price savings – about $600,000 – that she invested in him to put in place a Beirut branch of distinctive Parisian couture model CLVII in 2012. “It absolutely was a buddy’s store. The purchasers are certainly top quality; elite footballers and these kinds of. It’s obtained a particular image.

“I ran CLVII notion capital for about a year, and afterwards the Syrian civil war escalated. Bombs started heading off in Beirut. The Saudis and Emirati holidaymakers – my buyers – they went household and didn’t return. I used to be trapped with a great deal of expensive couture and no funds”

I ran CLVII for around a year, and afterwards the Syrian civil war escalated. Bombs started off going off in Beirut. The Saudis and Emirati travellers – my prospects – they went residence and didn’t come back. I was stuck which has a large amount of pricey couture and no dollars. Involving my mom’s price savings, a buddy’s financial commitment of about $two hundred,000 and the money I’d expended in that two-year period, I’d managed to lose $one million.

‘Not a tech dude’

While Dayekh, from Kano in Nigeria’s northern province, felt upset that he’d Enable down his mom, his initial – and biggest – entrepreneurial flop did nothing at all to dampen his enthusiasm for the entrepreneurial route and his zeal to triumph. In actual fact, he reflects that it spurred him on to at some point found OyaNow, an application-primarily based logistics enterprise aiding enterprises to achieve Nigeria’s progressively related populace of just about 200 million by trustworthy and rapidly previous-mile shipping and delivery.

This Regardless of the simple fact Dayekh promises to generally be “by no means a tech man”. He laughs: “I'm able to’t code.” Dayekh has gained the Persons’s Decision Award while in the George Bernard Shaw Unreasonable Individual category at this calendar year’s Serious Innovation Awards (RIA) in recognition of his dogged perseverance to succeed Even with there becoming no fantastic rationale that he should really.

When he had The theory for OyaNow, he was pretty much broke, acquiring returned from Shanghai the place for 9 months he had been performing being an outsourcing broker for just a number of Nigerian clientele he’d managed to secure. “They had been tiny contracts and Therefore the Fee was little,” he claims. “I had return to Abuja for being with my mom and determine what I had been gonna do with my life. I barely experienced any revenue, but I nonetheless realized I used to be about to do my own factor.”

It transpired to him that buyer self esteem in Nigeria was zero. “There was no rely on in the market in Nigeria and not Considerably purchaser treatment possibly. I thought of the accomplishment of foods shipping expert services in Europe and The us like Deliveroo and Uber Eats. Nigeria is probably one of many final nations around the world on this planet with such a big inhabitants that remains so underdeveloped. I observed that hole as a huge possibility.”

But who was about to buy the coders? And to the bikes? In fact – this was Africa, not Europe. Banks don’t give financial loans to people with no property. Dayekh was fortuitous to have a network of Intercontinental experts and traders he cultivated from having long gone to one of the better boarding schools in the world in Switzerland. A friend came by with a few seed income Which paid out for creating the app and the main motorbikes.

Ideal time, right solution, proper place

“I realized This may be a really diverse proposition from Deliveroo and Uber Eats. For 1, we would want to supply total pastoral care to our riders – whom we contact Entrepreneurs – mainly because they could be coming from all around the country. We would have to give them a destination to Are living. They would be the brand. I needed to be sure that I did all the things I could to empower them for being entirely engaged in OyaNow and assist the manufacturer to accomplish its key performance indicators of reliability, usefulness and high quality of assistance usually.

“My uncles felt I were born which has a silver spoon in my mouth Which I'd volume to nothing exterior the relatives small business. I'd a burning desire to establish them Improper and clearly show the entire world I could allow it to be by myself”

OyaNow is definitely an abbreviation of the phrase indicating “we've been coming” in Nigerian slang English. It really is widely recognized throughout ethnic teams and tribes and was a great match with the operating product and to the cultural context. It soft released in Abuja, in advance of launching in Kano after which Lagos.

Starting up off to be a foods shipping service about 3 many years ago, OyaNow obtained an sudden fillip within the Covid-19 pandemic which noticed desire for its very last-mile supply provider go with the roof. Now, it delivers Pretty much anything at all that may be shipped and OyaNow has business associations with lots of factories across the country.

The organization now has about eighty five bikes and vans as well as other vehicles, microinvestors which is eyeing the subsequent stage of enlargement in other nations in Africa, but Dayekh can’t say too a great deal more at this time. The serial innovator also has enterprise passions in medical marijuana and hemp in Malawi by way of a Swiss-based startup called House Africa. Previously this yr, Malawi legalised the expanding, promoting and exporting of cannabis for professional medical use.

“Winning this award – the George Bernard Shaw Unreasonable Individual Award – I love it! It pleases me in excess of if I had been to generally be manufactured President of America! It appears that evidently I do new points on a regular basis. But, the truth is, there is a pattern. Africa is often a tough area to know if You aren't from listed here. Western organizations see likely during the economies here but are nervous to generate a transfer due to perception of danger and a lack of certainty.

I've realised that I may be that bridge that inbound links Africa With all the West. It is a fairly distinctive situation to be in and I am just getting started.”

six tips about entrepreneurship from OyaNow founder Abbas Dayekh

Being an entrepreneur seriously isn’t straightforward. You require conviction and dedication. It’s probably a cliche but You can not succeed devoid of it. It’s a lonely highway. You may get dangers. You will upset the established order, and people don’t like that. Men and women like it any time you fall short. Personally, when I turn into devoted to a thing, no one can cease me.

The most important enterprise lesson I've discovered was the four Ps: value, products, promotion and spot. They're the key elements for achievement. OyaNow delivers all 4 together beautifully.

Failure is Studying and almost nothing to become ashamed of. Be honest with your self about what went Mistaken and go forward, striving not to generate precisely the same mistakes once more.

Entrepreneurship can be difficult on your own mental health and fitness. You can find every day considerations about cashflow, and regardless of whether you'll have enough funds to pay your charges; to pay your employees. Even now, I put up with panic assaults. It might be very difficult to repeatedly need to project a façade of strength for your personnel, buyers and the market when deep down you don’t know wherever your following tranche of cash will originate from to maintain heading. Be sincere with oneself about whether or not you can handle this strain.

Any time you expand, empower your personnel. They can be your small business. They will be the distinction between accomplishment and failure ultimately. Be humble as a pacesetter and hear your staff. Apologise for the mistakes. They must invest in into your eyesight. Empower them to co-create that eyesight mainly because it evolves.

Use a disproportionate number of Gals in the management staff. Females tend to be a lot less self-centred and aggressive. Coming from the patriarchal household business enterprise dominated by warring factions, I wish to be surrounded by Girls, who often carry balance and direct for your greater great rather then individual acquire.

The Real Innovation Awards is undoubtedly an once-a-year ceremony celebrating business innovation all over the world, hosted via the London Business Faculty’s Institute of Innovation and Entrepreneurship (IIE). To determine this year’s celebration occurring on ten December 2020 and hear insights on ‘Innovating in Adversity’ sign up below.

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#Passion Capital #Venture Capital #VC london

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ghost-hyunjin · 3 years

Text

Extra! Extra!

CW: Violence, bloody murder, murder in holding cell, graphic description of death, negative portrayal of Greek Life, gossip, flashback to a childhood memory, ghost behaviors, food, implied mafia behaviors

Note: This is an AU situation where the frat president (responsible for Hyunjin’s death) is killed before he goes to trial.

----------------------------

The ghost doesn’t want to sound cocky, but he thinks he’s finally nailed his ability to hide and sneak into classes without being detected. After he got over the initial shock of his death and told himself to stop moping, he tried to make the best of his situation by keeping himself busy. During the summer he practiced his skills with becoming visible and invisible at will, sustaining himself off some of the snacks swiped from the vending machines for a few days. Once classes started again in the fall, he practiced his invisibility when he went to grab food and later took an interest in a large portfolio that some art student was carrying on her shoulder. That led him to quietly sit in on her art class undetected and he found that it was kind of interesting to check out classes outside of his major. He tried to make a point to sit in one class a day, if possible, and preferably something that wasn’t a Business course.

After he stashed some grapes into a napkin in his pocket and an apple in the other, he slipped past the cafeteria lady undetected and decided he might visit the Law School again. Not that he dreamed of being a lawyer or found law super fascinating, but one professor was taking his killer’s case and analyzing it wth the class with different scenarios. It was good information to know, in case a real jury had to handle his case. (Last he had checked, the court had planned to set an appearance date to decide what the accused wished to do; be judged before a court or take a plea deal.)

He looked around for the classroom where Dr. Cunningham taught his class and barely got out of the way as a girl came barreling towards him. She was waving her phone around excitedly and shouting Cunningham’s name.

“Dr. C, Dr. C!” she yelled.

The professor looked up from arranging his slides for today’s lecture and a few of the kids who were there early turned to look at her. The student ran down to the podium where the professor was and held her phone up to his face.

“He’s dead! The case is off!” she declared, face flushed.

One of the male students rose from his seat and started to ask for clarification. His seatmate tapped his arm and read off a headline from a newspaper.

“Defendant found dead in holding,” he read. “Police investigating cause of death...ah damn it, you have to pay for the article!”

“Here!” another student began as they pulled up an article on their laptop.

Hyunjin cautiously approached the classroom and slipped inside, choosing to stand at the back. He looked around for the girl who almost ran through him and saw she was talking fast. Meanwhile, another student was trying to read something aloud, while others argued with each other, drowning out the one trying to read the article.

Dr. Cunningham held up a hand and stopped everyone. “I need everyone to take their seats. Thank you, thank you.” He waited for the kids to find a seat, then his eyes zeroed in on the student with the article up on their laptop. “Hannah, you said you found a full article?”

She nodded and began to read in a loud voice. “In a shocking turn of events, defendant Jeff Dumas, accused of murdering a fellow student, was found dead in his holding cell. Authorities insist the holding area was secure and they are scrubbing through the footage for evidence. While it is early to tell, sources believe this was foul play and that the defendant was targeted, possibly for revenge.” She paused to take a sip of water, then continued to read.

“Chief Morrow insisted “We are doing everything we can to find out what happened. Our station was secured and the defendant was in a holding cell, awaiting bail by his family. At this time, I have no comment on the cause of death – a more official report will be issued, once I’ve consulted with the coroner.” The defendant’s family is shocked and upset by the sudden loss of their son. The Local Bulletin will update this story as it develops,” Hannah concluded.

The class looked around at each other and the professor sighed as he rested a hand on the podium.

Hyunjin was grateful no one could see him now, for he was stunned and at a complete loss for words. He tried to be quiet as he sank to the floor, his ears pounding as the bit of news swam through his mind.

Dead. The fraternity president was dead.

“Class, I know this is a surprising revelation,” Dr. Cunningham explained, “but in some rare instances, this can happen.”

“I feel bad for the victim’s family,” one of the other students remarked. “They’re getting screwed.”

The mention of his family made the ghost feel a bit choked up. He forced himself to leave the classroom, choosing to go hide upstairs on the 5th floor to eat his fruit in peace.

To the ghost’s dismay, the 5th floor wasn’t as empty as it usually was. Some students were present hunting for books and he made sure to look for some place away from them. He settled on a corner near the books on Art History, and pulled out the napkin with the grapes rolled in them.

He picked one off and slowly chewed it, noting that it was okay but not amazing. That reminded him of a time where he and Yeji agreed to tag team together during their youth and they gave their moms identical pleading glances to buy the container of pricey “$30 grapes” from the Korean market. It took a bit of begging and insisting they were asking for better snacks than their peers, but the pair of cousins got their way when the moms relented with their rationale. Sure enough, the cousins determined they were the best grapes ever and even their moms confessed that maybe these overpriced grapes were the most flavorful they tried.

“I thought he hung himself,” a student said.

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes as the student neared the section he was sitting by. He held the grapes in his hands and watched as the student lingered near the entrance to the section on Renaissance art.

“No it was a blow to the head,” another student hissed. “They don’t put shit in a holding cell, ‘cause they want the person alive.”

“How though? You just said there’s nothing in a holding cell that he could use to kill himself with,” the first student explained.

“Okay I’m really not supposed to tell you this,” the second student muttered, “but my brother told me the guy’s head was all bloodied. Serious head trauma. But the victim’s family couldn’t have done it because they’re back home in Korea. Guy had no family here.”

“They have cameras – something’s gotta be on there,” the first student insisted.

The second student guided the first one away from the section and eventually Hyunjin couldn’t hear them anymore. He blinked and starred in the direction that the students left in.

What was going on? The asshole frat president he knew was too full of himself to commit suicide and honestly, he thought the guy was loaded and could afford a proper lawyer and bail on time. But if the whispers were true that this wasn’t suicide or an accident...

@mafia-chae @guitar-sihyeon @la-soleilmafia-cb

#mafia-chae #guitar-sihyeon #la-soleilmafia-cb #[tw: mafia behaviors]#[tw: ghost behaviors]#[cw: food]#[tw: flashback to childhood memory]#[tw: violence]#[tw: bloody murder]#[tw: graphic description of murder]#[tw: negative portrayal of Greek life]#[tw: murder in holding cell]#[tw: gossip]

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beekeeperofeden · 5 years

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fic: the synonyms for ‘barrier’ include hindrance, obstacle, and trammel

Summary: Ability to speak does not necessarily confer the ability to communicate. Entreri and Catti-brie are still learning this the hard way. Opposite of Arrogance AU. (Basic premise of the AU is that Catti-brie started working for Bregan D’aerthe during Starless Night in order to convince Jarlaxle to help rescue Drizzt.) Wordcount: 2880

They were on stake-out again. Catti-brie had noticed that none of the drow soldiers were sent out in pairs, and she wondered what it meant that Jarlaxle kept making Entreri work with her. She didn't need a translator to recognize the "it takes two humans to do the job of one dark elf" jokes as they left, but she didn't think that was Jarlaxle's reasoning. At least, that wasn't all of it.

Whatever Jarlaxle's rationale, it had resulted in the two of them sitting on the roof of a crumbling building, watching the street below for—someone. Catti-brie wasn't actually sure who they were looking for, but she had been assured that Entreri would recognize them. Which meant that, while Entreri studied the sparse crowds and watched for their target, Catti-brie had an idle mind and no one else to talk to.

"What're ye muttering?" she asked him. He'd been frowning and saying something under his breath for the past half hour. It almost had the rhythm of a poem, and she wondered if it were possible that the man who had haunted some of her nightmares would really be reciting poetry in his spare time.

Annoyed grumbling, followed by "Vocabulary." Not poetry, then. Far more practical, and Catti-brie was annoyed at herself for not guessing that first.

"That'll be in drow, then?" They were speaking in Surface Common. Catti-brie had half expected Entreri to insist on speaking drow in order to avoid talking to her, but he seemed to enjoy hearing a surface language again too much to argue.

Entreri rolled his eyes instead of answering.

"Drill me," she said.

"What?"

"I need to practice and so do ye." She nodded at the street. "It's not like we're going anywhere for a while."

He rolled his eyes again.

"Brane'sa," he said. Catti-brie grinned.

"Insect, pest, or annoyance." She'd heard that one a few times already.

"It also means 'prey,'" Entreri pointed out. He looked much less amused, though Catti-brie wasn't sure if that was just his face or if he'd gotten sick of hearing it muttered at him in the hallway.

"My turn," she said. "Delmah."

"Headquarters or fortress." He paused to watch someone exit a building across the row from them. "Uln'hyrr."

"Liar," she said. Entreri nodded.

"The synonym for that one is Jarlaxle," he said. Catti-brie started to etch the new word into her memory before she realized that Artemis Entreri had just made a joke. She searched for some hint of humor, but he kept his face totally blank.

"Uln'hyrr," she said. He raised an eyebrow.

"We just did that one. Choose another."

"Vynnessia," she said, grinning as he frowned. She'd remembered this one because it was pretty, but suspected Entreri might not have bothered to memorize it. He scowled.

"You made that one up."

"It means 'butterfly.'"

"You must be joking."

"Nope."

"Why do drow even have a word for butterfly?" He gestured at the ceiling, at the walls, at everything around them. "We are miles below the surface. There are no butterflies down here."

Catti-brie was silent for a moment, enjoying the view as Entreri's face shifted between astonishment and disbelief.

"Mayhap they're invisible butterflies," she said after a moment. His mouth opened and shut a few times before he responded.

"It's not a matter of visibility—butterflies could not survive in the Underdark. They're too delicate, and there is nothing for them to eat."

Catti-brie frowned and gestured at a pack of rothe down the street. "There's plenty o' food."

Entreri blinked. "I thought butterflies ate flowers."

"And meat. I saw a flock of them nibbling on a deer carcass once. Looked like a patch o' daisies until I got close enough to see their wings move."

He stared at her, clearly hoping for some indication of untruth. She could see the idea but they're too pretty to be dangerous flutter across his mind, unspoken. She shrugged.

"Ye've met Jarlaxle, and he's awful pretty. Are ye gonna tell me he's not dangerous?" She leaned forward. "But more importantly...if I'm lyin' about the butterflies, then why do dark elves have a word for 'em?"

He looked away, staring at the deserted street below them.

"We should move on to verbs," he said. "Run."

Catti-brie blinked, then considered whether she was supposed to run. "Oh! Er, z'haanin."

"That's 'running.'" He stretched one leg, then the other, without losing sight of the road. Catti-brie realized her own legs were stiff from sitting and started to stand as well. "Usstan z'haan, dos z'haan, il z'haane, udos z'haan, nind z'haan—I run, you run, she runs, we run, they run. Dos z'haanus. You ran."

Catti-brie sighed. This was less fun than nouns, but she couldn't deny it was necessary. She winced, remembering the times she'd heard a goblin mangle verbs in common or dwarvish and how easy it had been to discount them as real people. At home, she'd wanted the others to respect her as an adult, as someone who could be trusted to make her own decisions. She had thought she wanted that. But the basic respect that came from acknowledgement that she was a person...she hadn't noticed until it was missing, and she hungered to have it back.

"I hate this," she said.

"Usstan phlith nindol." He eyed her for a moment, then turned his gaze back to the abandoned street. "And in third person singular?"

"Er, il phlithe. She hates."

"If you hate this so much, why not leave?" Apparently satisfied with the results of his stretching, he sat back down cross-legged on the edge of the roof. "You could probably convince Jarlaxle to return you."

"Why would he do that?"

"Gold. Surely your father could pay a ransom that would interest him."

Her own bed. Seeing friendly faces again. Sunlight, rain, a soft breeze. She wasn't sure what season it was on the surface. Autumn, perhaps? There would be fresh apples falling from the trees. Everyone would be taking stock of their supplies, getting ready for winter. Usually she'd be helping buy preserves, storing turnips, deciding which spices to purchase and how many before the roads became too icy for merchants.

If she mentioned it to Jarlaxle today, maybe she could be home before the first snow fell.

Jarlaxle's words echoed in her mind. Drizzt may even outlive you, if they have their way. House Baenre is not known for killing its enemies quickly.

"No. If I leave, then Jarlaxle don't need to hold up his end of the bargain."

"Do'Urden must be quite gratified, to have so persistent a rescuer."

Catti-brie shook her head. "He'd hate it if he knew I was here. He told Regis to hide it from us."

He looked at her, his regard frighteningly intense. "Then why pursue him?"

Empty hallways. Her father, red-eyed and silent. The guilt that would eat her away if she didn't go, if no one went. Alustriel watching her with unexpected hope and respect.

She closed her eyes.

"I already lost one friend." Whatever arguments they had had, whatever Wulfgar had been to her before he died, she could still say 'friend.' "You killed him attacking Mithril Hall."

"One of the dwarves?" He frowned, clearly unable to put a face to her description.

"Not one of the—" Her throat ached with the effort of stopping tears, but she held them back anyway. She would not cry in front of Artemis Entreri. "Wulfgar. He died in the attack."

"But I was not the one who killed him."

"Ye helped." Her voice trembled. "If ye hadn't, perhaps the battle would have gone different."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." He shrugged. "If I had not been involved, it's possible you would have died and Wulfgar would have gone chasing Do'Urden to the Underdark."

"Or no one would have died!" She was vaguely aware that she was standing over him, her voice raised. He didn't seem the slightest bit intimidated, and that only made her feel worse. "We would have beaten them off and kept living our lives."

"Does Jarlaxle strike you as incompetent? If I had not been there, the drow would simply have used a different tactic to pry Drizzt out. Teleportation spells and a larger army, perhaps. Alchemical explosives in the mineshafts. Smoke, like hunters use for foxes."

"So ye joined them to reduce the body count?"

"Hardly." His lip curled in scorn.

"Then what does it matter, if I blame ye for his death?"

"It doesn't. But you hardly have cause to be upset. You did not wish to marry him anyway."

She stared at him, flummoxed.

"How do ye know—"

He arranged his features into a politely neutral expression that she'd never seen him wear. But she'd seen it on Regis's face a few times, when she needed to confide to someone. Like she had before drow attacked, when Regis had been...oh.

"You spying weasel," she spat. "That was—it's none of your—" She kicked a piece of decorative metalwork sticking out of the roof. Pain shot up her foot and spread like lightning through her leg. She cursed, still angry, but it was a pure, hot anger, something she could burn out. Grief was a dark tunnel that she couldn't afford to follow right now, not if she wanted to rescue Drizzt.

"How was I supposed to stop you?" Entreri's voice was harsh. "Say 'I cannot listen to your girlish woes right now, as I have espionage to commit and a prisoner to check on'? Or would you prefer that I simply pretend not to know?"

"Let's go with that."

"Very well." Another strange expression, this time an obvious caricature of sympathy. "I am so sorry about the death of your brutish fiance, whom you were so very excited to wed."

"Someone should have drowned you as a weanling."

He shrugged. "What makes you think no one tried?"

Exhausted by her anger, she sat down at the edge of the roof, close enough to speak but far enough away that he wouldn't think he was forgiven. I'm not sitting with ye, we just happen to be sitting in the same tunnel.

"Why do ye care if I go home, anyway?"

"Jarlaxle would need to give you a map, or send a scout to show you the way out. I could use that."

"So you're just bein' selfish."

"Yes. You could try it sometime."

"I think you're selfish enough for the both of us, aren't ye?"

He bared his teeth in what might have been a pleased grin. For a while they sat in silence, watching the street below them. Catti-brie's stomach growled, and she unpacked the fruit and cheese she had brought with her. She took a bite of the fruit, first. It was unfamiliar to her, but apparently commonplace in the Underdark. The skin was soft pink that faded into green. It tasted like a plum that wasn't ripe yet, but sweeter. She'd found she liked them.

Entreri glanced at her, then at the fruit. "Have you had a chance to look at the drow orchards yet?"

The question was so innocuous that Catti-brie was instantly suspicious.

"The drow have farms?" This far down, with no sunlight or rainfall to speak of?

Entreri nodded. "They're much like the great farms in the south, with aqueducts. They build in terraces to maximize space."

That...actually sounded rather nice. She'd seen aqueducts used in mining, to help carry away dust and debris. It could make sense for farming, too. She felt a pang of homesickness, thinking of the mines. Perhaps it was the case for Entreri, too.

"Do ye miss it?" He blinked, and she clarified. "Calimshan, I mean?"

"Parts of it." This time he didn't manage to hide the note of wistfulness from her. Was that him loosening up or her getting better at reading him?

"Like the food?" Her visit to Calimport had been too brief, too fearful, to really understand the city.

"Like the freedom to kill anyone who talked too much." Catti-brie took another bite of the fruit, and Entreri smirked. "But yes, some of the pashas keep fine gardens. Keeping plants alive in the desert requires time, water, money—it's a chance for them to show off."

Catti-brie didn't remembering seeing any such gardens, but she supposed that they were probably walled off. Knowing that Calimport hadn't been as barren as it looked but that all that green was simply hidden away didn't make her like the place any better.

"Is that why the drow grow fruit? To prove they can?"

Entreri thought about that, then chuckled. "Perhaps. Although, water is not the problem down here."

"Sunlight." She frowned, thinking. "Light spells?" But surely that would take too much magic to maintain, and the dark elves barely tolerated torches along crowded streets. They couldn't possibly be casting enough light spells up to keep any sizable farms alive.

"Some of the fields have light, yes, but plants don't need to get their energy from sunlight. Some can get warmth from the ground." He grinned wolfishly.

"And most of the plants down here get their energy the same way we do—they eat."

Catti-brie finished chewing her bite of not-plum and swallowed. "Eat what?" she asked.

"Meat." He jerked his head at a goblin corpse, already being dragged away. "Whatever kind is available."

Catti-brie looked at her mostly-uneaten fruit with disgust. Entreri huffed in annoyance, then took it from her.

"If you won't eat it, I will."

Catti-brie swallowed her objections. It wasn't like eating a person, not really. She couldn't shake the certainty that it had tasted like blood, nonetheless. Entreri rolled his eyes.

"A few days of hunger, you'll get over it," he said, carving the not-plum into small pieces. He popped a piece of fruit into his mouth. "Or you'll starve. I care not which."

Catti-brie scowled at him, then snatched a piece of the not-plum and ate it, never breaking eye contact. He laughed.

She raised an eyebrow, considering how, when she'd first known him, he'd butted heads with the guard from Luskan for no apparent reason other than that it seemed to amuse him to insult the man.

"Do you have to work to piss off all yer potential allies this much, or do it come natural?"

"It took practice."

"Oh, so ye want otherwise neutral parties to be looking to take yer head off," Catti-brie said sarcastically. Entreri nodded.

"It weeds out the opportunistic leeches. Anyone who sticks around after that is probably just planning to kill me."

"Or mayhap they weren't planning to kill ye until ye opened yer damned mouth." Entreri shrugged, as if people wanting to murder him was a natural consequence of existing. Then he perked up, like a cat that heard the skitter of rodent feet nearby. He jerked his chin as an armored figure down the street.

"Our target." Then he stood and started climbing down the building, not bothering with a rope. Catti-brie peered over the edge after him, then down at the rapidly-approaching drow.

"What am I supposed to do?"

He sneered but didn't answer. As their target got closer, Catti-brie recalled Jarlaxle's instructions: I need him alive, but not undamaged. She growled under her breath, drew her bow, and fired into the target's leg, pinning him to the nearest building.

Entreri, halfway across the street, whirled to scowl up at her. She made eye contact for a long second, then deliberately lowered the bow. She looped a length of rope around the decorative metalwork and started to climb down the side of the building. By the time she got down, their target was bound and gagged. He whimpered through the gag as Entreri roughly tourniquetted the wound on his leg. When Catti-brie let go of the rope, Entreri knotted the bandage and stood up.

"What were you thinking?"

"I was thinkin' ye hadn't exactly shared a plan, and this seemed like a halfway decent one. If ye were expecting me to do something else, ye should've said."

He tilted his head, and she expected an attack. A shove, a slap, something. When it didn't come, she ground her teeth and maintained eye contact until a particularly loud groan from their target drew her attention. Entreri was still frowning at her.

"If you get in my way again, I'll leave you at the bottom of the Clawrift, Jarlaxle's orders be damned."

With that, he dragged the captive to his feet and shoved him toward Bregan D'aerthe's base.

"Walk," he ordered in drow. A glance at Catti-brie suggested that the imperative was targeted at her, too. She pulled her rope down and followed.

"I don't suppose ye can tell me how drow say 'thank you,'" she said, draping the coil of rope over her shoulder. "Given that ye don't seem to know it yerself."

"If you shut up, I'll express gratitude by letting you live." He ran his thumb along the pommel of his dagger. "If a drow were going to deign to thank iblith for anything, I suspect it would be by killing us fast instead of slow."

She spent the rest of their walk in silence, wondering if he was right. When they returned, Jarlaxle smiled in delight, praised their work, and offered not a single word in thanks. By Entreri's grim smirk as they left Jarlaxle's office, he'd noticed too.

#au: the opposite of arrogance #bag of many aus #fic

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hasbihallarcomebackhome-blog · 5 years

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hair vitamins for Dummies

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sunlitroom · 6 years

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Gotham – s4e13 – Reunion

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham:

Barbara wore an upsetting flesh-coloured headband. Jim searched for the Doc. Sometimes we search for things we really don’t want to find. Sofia likes being queen! And she has new ways to hurt Jim! Harvey tells Jim he wants to feel clean. You’ll need a water cannon to get the muck off Jim, Harvey. Ed gloated, but Oswald claimed ‘you’re’ still there! Ivy’s changed. Lazarus water does things! Bruce has a party boy breakdown.

As always, long post will be long. There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot might appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)). There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism. Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

At stately Wayne Manor, Bruce is opening the case that contains his proto-Batman suit. He looks at it for a long moment, removes the mask, and throws it on the fire. Overall, It’s been a very symbolic couple of days for him. He needs to ease up a bit. Do some light housework, a bit of reading. Maybe bake something.

Harvey’s bar in the Narrows, where a man is eating a pickle very loudly. Ivy enters, and regards him with some disgust. Is it because they’re a kind of plant, or because he’s gross, or did whatever Ivy did to herself leave her senses a little heightened, maybe?

It’s hard to say whether it’s the light or the help of some Clairol, but Ivy’s hair is looking slightly redder.

She’s looking for Harvey. The cute barman says he’s not working today, but she can leave a message. Ivy says she will – she’ll use them to leave a message, all their flesh and blood and what they’ll become. She blows pollen onto them from a flower she was carrying.

(An aside. Based on what we’ve seen of her so far, Ivy is virtually the most dangerous person in the city. She kills indiscriminately, and seems completely without empathy or remorse)

At Sofia’s mansion, Lee is looking at a framed photograph of her and Mario. Lee is wearing fingerless opera gloves. That’s…definitely a style choice. I wonder if Lee’s move towards a deliberate and out-of-the-ordinary aesthetic signals a definite move from the move conventional heroic side of things to the more villainous side of the board, which is all about aesthetic.

Sofia says that still Lee is still her sister, even with Mario gone. Given that she murdered her dad, this doesn’t bode well for Lee.

Lee smiles and says that’s nice – but clearly not why she was invited. Sofia smiles back and tells her that while she owns the city, the Narrows never bent the knee. With this kind of phrasing, and Lee’s fur collar, it’s all gone a bit Game of Thrones. Lee tells her that the Narrows has never bent the knee – but Sofia replies that there’s never been anyone like her.

She wants the Narrows under her thumb – in the form of a 30% tax on all income. Lee tells her that the people there live hand to mouth, and will never be able to afford this – they’ll starve. Sofia smiles coldly, and tells her that they all have to make sacrifices, and she wants an answer by the end of the day.

Lee gets up. She offers to kiss the ring, if that’s what Sofia needs – because the 30% tax is impossible. Sofia tells her she’ll find a way. Lee remarks that she thought she was all about family. Sofia stares at her

I never said it was a happy family

At a diner in the Narrows, Alfred reads a paper. Bruce walks in – but Alfred avoids eyecontact. Bruce thanks him for agreeing to meet, but Alfred remains grumpy. He tries to talk to him about the annual foundation dinner, but Alfred is snappish

What exactly is it you want from me?

Bruce asks for his help to figure things out – he can’t do this alone. Alfred refuses. He tells Bruce he can’t just waltz in here and expect him to go back to washing his smalls and cooking his dinner. Bruce tells him he’s changed – but Alfred says there’s a difference between showing and telling. If he shows him, then he’ll reconsider.

Bruce asks how he can do that – but Alfred says that’s for him to figure out. Oh, fuck off, Alfred.

Bruce pleads – and says he’s asking him as a friend, but Alfred says he’s not his friend – he was his butler, and he fired him. He leaves, telling the waitress that Bruce will pay for the tea. Bruce looks lost.

(An aside. I’m sure I was supposed to see this as tough love, or something – but Alfred just seemed like a dick. Bruce is basically a big pile of trauma in lanky teenage form, he doesn’t need weird passive-aggressive sulking. Also – bad writing strikes in that Bruce nearly died a couple of days ago – and knowing that just makes whatever Alfred is doing here look worse.)

Presumably upstairs at Cherry’s, a desperate and dishevelled Ed is rifling through bottles of pill. Nearby, leaning against a wall, BadEd wonders aloud what Lee and Sofia’s meeting is about. He asks if Ed doesn’t wonder, Lee being the love of his life and all.

Ed impatiently tells him that he and Lee are friends. BadEd looks him over dismissively, and tells him that

The cuckoo pills won't keep me away

Ed replies that they might not – but they can stop him killing lee. Walking over to a small table, we see a pile of letters, including the one Oswald wrote last week. Ed opens it, and reads sections out incredulously.

He wants…..Can we be friends? I’ll never forgive him!

Bad Ed reads the letter over his shoulder and smiles snakily.

I think it’s a nice letter

He poses a riddle to Ed

What has two eyes but can’t see?

Ed stares at him, panicked. BadEd laughs.

Back at Harvey’s bar, where the worst investigation of a killer toxin/plant thing is taking place. Seriously, why don’t they just all make a salad out of it at this point and get stuck in? No gloves, no masks…..

Jim enters, and asks Lucius where Harvey is – Lucius tells him that he wasn’t here, and Jim helpfully reiterates what the show reminded us of last week – Harvey shot Ivy’s father. They head off.

Jim and a team of cops break into Harvey’s apartment. They see Harvey sort of spread-eagled on the couch in. One of the cops regretfully comments that they’re too late, but Jim shakes his head, and walks towards him – this is just how Harvey sleeps. Jim wakes him up – because apparently the door being bust open didn’t do that

An irate Harvey asks what the hell is going on, and tells him someone will be paying for that door. Jim tells him Ivy attacked the bar. Harvey asks about the bartender, Donny, by name. Jim says he’s sorry, and tells him that they have to think he was the target – since he shot Ivy’s dad. Harvey angrily tells him that he only shot Ivy’s dad to save Jim’s hide

So don't put this on me

Jim, nettled, responds equally angrily

I’m not putting it on you

(An aside – he’s easily nettled because he has guilt brewing about how Harvey fared due to the whole Pyg fiasco, taking shame and humiliation that rightfully belonged to Jim. At least – I hope he has guilt brewing)

They’re interrupted by a news report, which claims disturbing footage will follow. It’s Ivy, filming herself.

Plants love us. They give us food, shelter – the air we breathe. What do we do in return? Kill them. That's our nature. That's you. We cause pain. Everyone I've ever known hurt and betrayed me. I’ve always known in my heart what I need to do. I’m giving the city back to the plants - starting with the people who hurt me

(An aside - that's basically everyone – Ivy’s sensitive to slights, and also doesn’t really seem to like humans in general.)

Harvey looks worried

Starting with me

(An aside – Ivy’s improved since last week, when her entire rationale was ‘you hurt plants!’ Now that she’s referring back to her past and experiences, we get something else. She hates the whole city. It failed her – we got to see, specifically, how it failed her: watching her end up on the streets. She’ll show no compassion, because she feels she was shown none. She’s a good example of the city reaping what it sows – pun not intended)

As the news report is still playing, Jim and Harvey spot a sign in the background for an eatery they recognise, and manage to pin Ivy’s location. Jim wants to take Harvey to the precinct, but he refuses to hide – he feels responsible. Jim offers his badge, and Harvey angrily refuses. He has more contacts in the Narrows than any of them. He storms out, but then returns quickly – because he forgot to put on trousers.

Lee and Ed somewhere at Cherry’s. They’re talking and drinking. Lee is telling Ed about the meeting. She says it makes no sense: Sofia knows there no money here, Lee offered to bend the knee, Sofia was deliberately asking for something she knew Lee couldn’t give. She wants to punish her.

Ed asks why – but Lee says she doesn’t know. Ed tells her you can’t fight an enemy whose motivations you don't understand

(An aside – I wonder if this remark will become significant again later? Feels a bit like it will)

We cut away, and see Ed has hired the Baker Street Irregulars. He offers them a full set of encyclopedias minus T if they can find out why Sofia wants to punish Lee. They look unimpressed. He throws in 20 dollars, and they leap up.

Go get 'em

A police team breaks into Ivy's lair of plants and discarded sequinned evening gowns. As Jim looks around, he hears a voice.

Selina is sitting on the windowsill

What’re you gonna do?

Jim does what he does best – other than snarling and grabbing – and gets angrily judgy.

She killed four more people – and you knew where she was staying. If you’d told me, we could have saved their lives.

Oh shut up Jim. Go contemplate your own trail of dead.

Selina’s having none of him.

Or not. You couldn't stop her from hypnotising all your cops

Jim asks why she came. Because Selina doesn’t casually dehumanise and discard people, Jim? Even when they’re behaving in ways she doesn’t like or understand?

Selina says she wants to try to reason with her. Jim sneers and says she’s a fanatic – but Selina retorts that she’s her friend. Jim looks at her for a moment, and tells her that if she contacts her, then to call him, and he’ll try and bring her in quietly – otherwise, she should stay out of the way.

At that point, his phone rings. It’s Harvey with a lead.

Harvey is in a big basement? Warehouse? I dunno. There’s lots of barrels.

Harvey tells Jim that Ivy has been hiring muscle. As he says this, Ivy strolls in.

She’s beautiful, don't you think, Jim?

He points his gun at Jim. Ivy tells Jim to drop his weapon.

Poor Ed is sitting on his bed, breathing heavily, in some discomfort. He has his head in his hands.

(An aside – looking round, he's assembled a tidy bedroom like a cross between his apartment and lab. He’s really good at using found stuff and making it look nice. He should totally do this instead of crime – just like Jervis and party planning)

Bad Ed tells him he doesn’t look good, and that he is exceeding recommended dose. He picks up a pill bottle and starts rhyming off side-effects:

Trembling, cognitive impairment – still, how would you know?

He laughs, and Ed tells him to shut up

Bad Ed says he’s only getting stronger

Ed tells him that he won’t let him take over kill Lee. Bad Ed replies that he probably will.

(An aside - But why? They’ve really never made this clear. The implication before was that he would kill Lee because she was Ed’s last anchor to a sense of his better self. If he takes over completely, then what purpose would killing Lee after this point serve?)

Bad Ed smirks, and tells him the only way to get rid of him is to kill himself

Ed looks momentarily still as he looks at him

Well – I guess you're smarter than me

Bad Ed stares

You wouldn’t

Ed gains back a little power over him as he replies

Oh yeah

(An aside. I’m not sure to which extent I’m supposed to feel this – but I just find all this pretty desperately sad. We’ve seen since the early days that Ed fears BadEd, that he’s bullied and belittled by him. He’s trying as best he can here to maintain some control over his sense of self, and keep safe someone who has become dear to him. He’s constantly tired and agitated, and now unwell due to what seems like overuse/misuse of medication. The brief moment of calm he has at the thought of suicide just broke me.)

Back with Jim and Harvey. Ivy asks if Jim believes in fate – she went looking for Harvey, and he found her instead. Then she realised she could make him deliver Jim too.

Jim tells Harvey that she’s controlling him. Harvey answers.

I kinda like it - sweet surrender

Jim has a brief foray into compassion

You need help Ivy - let me find Selina. She wants to help you.

Ivy brushes this off and leaves. She tosses over her should that she has big plans, and tells Harvey to kill his partner, then shoot himself in the head.

Harvey aims at Jim, telling him not to try and talk his way out of it. Jim tries to distract him

Is Ivy's hair more auburn or scarlet?

Harvey mulls this, and Jim runs. They run about the warehouse, Jim taunting Harvey to get him to use up his bullets. Harvey is sore about Jim stealing his job. Jim says it was never really his and then lists his screw-ups. Harvey shoots repeatedly, angry, and Jim is able to evade him until he’s out of bullets, and knock him out.

Sirens. Bruce is looking for Selina’s help. She tells him he’s an ass and that she’s busy. He should go find Alfred. Bruce looks unsettled. Light dawns

You did, and he wanted nothing to do with you

She advises him to apologise to Alfred – whatever happened, she’s sure it was his fault. She leaves.

At Cherry’s, Lee and Ed sit opposite each other at a small table. Ed gives Lee the information he’s found - according to his spies - Sofia and Jim have been carrying on an affair

So, technically, your ex has been sleeping with your dead husband's mafiosa sister.

Funniest line in the episode – narrowly followed by the speed with which Lee responds

Yeah - ok Ed I get it

She starts to hypothesise

If Sofia’s sleeping with the Captain of GCPD it’s a power play, and one that failed, if I’m her next step. Maybe I should just just give her what she wants - power over Jim.

Ed is startled.

You would do that?

She seems pretty unmoved, and very sincere.

I’m not trying to get back at Jim, though he deserves it. My job is to make sure the people of the Narrows are safe and I will do everything in my power to ensure that.

Ed looks her in the eyes. He’s completely, totally smitten. I’m not exactly sure how CMS does that ten emotions all at once thing with his eyes, but it’s genuinely amazing. Seriously.

She smiles back at him

What?

Lee – I...

He looks away from her

I… I have to leave

He exits, and Lee stares after him.

(An aside - Lee didn’t look entirely oblivious, there – nor did she seem unreceptive. I don’t think the notion of her having feelings for Ed is outside the realms of possibility. If she’s not entertained the idea already, then she’s not outright rejecting it.)

Harvey comes round at the precinct. Jim asks if he can remember anything. Harvey says Ivy was talking about people who get rich by murdering plants. Jim remembers that she seemed to have been trying on ‘fancy clothes and shoes’ at her lair. Don’t hide your light under a bushel with those vague terms, Jim – we all remember those stunning 60s cocktail dresses your subconscious put Barbara in. You should set up a business on the side.

Jim instructs officers to ring around – try to find what fancy event is on that Ivy might be trying to crash. Eventually they figure out – the Wayne Foundation charity event. Jim tells them to assemble a strike force. Before he leaves, Harvey talks to him

Hey Jim. I spent too long putting it all on you. What happened – I’ve only got myself to blame

Not really, Harvey. But anyway.

Jim looks at him and ... still fails to own up. He says he’ll call, and leaves.

At the gala, we briefly see a photograph of Bruce’s parents. Are we ever going to hear more about Martha? Thomas is mentioned frequently, but they barely discuss Martha.

Still in his black polo neck of angst, Bruce takes to the stage. The lettering spelling out ‘Wayne Foundation’ is awful. It’s all uneven. And I don’t really think much of the ambience of the room, either. They should have hired Jervis on some day release from Arkham to arrange this. Woeful.

We see Alfred enter the room, as does Bruce, which makes him stumble over his speech. He changes what’s on the cards. He says his parents spent their lives helping people. He was proud of them and wanted them to be proud of him. He saw them murdered, but survived because someone in his life kept him going. He was everything to him: teacher, protector, and father. He hopes he can see that, and give him another chance.

Vaguely shocked applause

Bruce walks to Alfred. Alfred thanks him, and says that meant a great deal. But he then annoyingly and confusingly tells him that he can’t tell him, not until he accepts who he really is. Oh no – here it comes – ‘darkness’ chat again. Bruce needs to embrace that, apparently – but not really, because his heart and compassion are his strengths. He needs to accept altruism and darkness but it’s something he must do on his own. This is terribly confusing, Alfred. Go buy a parenting book from Amazon or something. Jeezy Creezy. No wonder Bruce ends up dressing like a giant bat.

Bruce looks let down and angry

I was stupid for reaching out

He walks away. And who can blame him?

Ivy now takes to the stage

That was quite a speech. I’m Ivy Pepper.

Panicked murmuring ensues. At least if Jervis had arranged this, you’d probably have had some really lovely hors d’oeuvres by now. And probably special folded napkins.

Ivy tells them to stay seated and her thugs chain the doors. Alfred runs.

Some empty space somewhere in Cherry’s. BadEd is ranting and enraged. We see Ed standing at a staircase with a noose in his hand

BadEd tells him he can’t do this – but Ed tells him it was his idea. BadEd tries to play for time

Ok fine - you win - you beat me. Is that what you want to hear?

Ed tiredly tells him that’s very nice, but he still has to do this.

BadEd is desperate.

Wait – there’s a way to do this where nobody gets hurt!

Ed flatly says he doesn't believe him. But BadEd insists – there’s a way to save Lee without killing himself.

Or us

I'm listening.

Back at the function - Ivy comments on the beautiful crimson flowers and tells a man he’s handsome before murdering him.

Bruce is walking away from the room as Jim runs towards it with his strike force. He asks Bruce if Ivy is in there. Bruce doesn’t think so – but the they hear ruckus, and Jim advances

There’s weeping and panic, and we see the man’s corpse flowering. Ivy looks blissed out by this, and says she’s going to turn this room into a gorgeous garden. Alfred tries to attack – but is knocked out. Ivy looks down at him

A volunteer

The strike force bursts the door open and Jim tells the thugs to drop their guns

Ivy strolls away, telling her men to kill everyone.

(An aside - What is Ivy wearing? Ivy – you are not Blanche Devereaux, and you do not have whatever it is that is required to convincingly wear sequinned palazzo pants.)

Bruce looks in at the chaos. Stealing a mask, he saves Alfred, who was about to be killed. He tells him that he’s getting him out of here. Alfred stops him though – telling him people need his help, and this is who he is. Bruce looks at him, masks himself again, and runs off.

(An aside. I kind of feel this is the problem with rushing the Batman thing along too fast. Bruce still really reads as a child. He’s tall. He has a deep voice. But he’s not an adult yet. We’ve just seen him indulging in a specifically teenage style of self-destructiveness. As such, telling him to endanger himself like this just comes off as cruel.)

Somewhere else in the building, Bruce watches from shadows, and then takes out a thug. Jim comes upon this. He yells at Bruce to drop it and, like, immediately shoots him. He might as well have yelled drop it afterwards. Wtf? Isn’t there a recognised way to do this where you don’t just immediately shoot the person? He did the same with Krank in the alley.

Bruce is fortunately wearing something bulletproof, gets up, and runs to the roof. No fucking wonder. Even if he did try to explain, Jim might just shoot him again before he can inhale and start talking. Jim chases him to the rooftop, but Bruce is gone.

Ivy’s lair. She removes the police tape that has been thrown over her plants. I’ve accidentally killed both of those specific plants in the past. One of them, a type of Calathea, is called a prayer plant – because it folds its leaves together at night, like hands in prayer. Ivy rifles through the mess and finds what she’s after - a tiny black bag.

Hear the news? Crazy Ivy Pepper attacks Wayne Foundation Dinner

It’s Selina. Ivy tells her it didn't turn out as hoped. Selina affects mock-surprise

What – you didn't get to kill everyone in there? You got out -you always were a survivor

She looks at her hands

What's in the bag?

It’s the little bag of life and death.

Nah – it’s the last of the Lazarus water.

Selina nods

So you can make more plants to kill people? Yeah - ain't gonna happen

Ivy asks if she’s going to stop her. Remind her of the old days. Tell her she’s not this person. Selina tells her they’re past words and uses her whip to trap her wrist and send the bottle hurtling away.

Ivy sneers – Selina Kyle turns out to be the hero. Selina tells her

I'm no hero

They fight. Ivy reminds her that one scratch is all it takes, and no antidote this time. Selina evades her. Ivy tells her she can’t run – but Selina was picking up the bottle. She threatens to drop it. Ivy asks her to stop – tells her she’ll let her leave. Selina mocks her generosity. She drops the bottle and puts her foot on it, not breaking it - yet.

No! How can you side with them - all the people who hurt us? You think they're innocent, they're guilty. Every person in this city – they spew out poison. How are you not choking on it?

Selina says the only thing she’s choking on is Ivy’s insanity. She breaks the bottle. Ivy screams and wraps her hands round Selina’s neck.

You shouldn't have done that. You're going to die.

Selina maintains eye contact but tells her to look down. She has a knife at Ivy’s gut.

Ivy asks her what what happens now. Do they kill each other? Selina tells her that’s an option. Ivy starts to strop a little

You always thought you were better than me

Selina replies

We were friends

Ivy says that was a long time ago, and she’s a different person now. Selina tells her that this isn’t what she wants and drops the knife. It’s a statement of trust - really, that Ivy still has a better nature somewhere, and she hasn’t altogether given up on that. Ivy tightens the grip at her throat, but tells her not to get in her way again, before dropping her hands and leaving. Selina watches her go.

The Narrows, where Sofia is meeting with Lee.

(An aside – wouldn’t she want Butch there? I know he can’t be, to facilitate what comes next, but even a nod to explain away his absence would be nice.)

Sofia sits down, placing her handbag demurely on the table before her. It’s a classic one with a clasp closure.

Lee says she has something more valuable to offer than what Sofia asked for. This turns out to be Jim.

(An aside – Lee is clever, but this is a misstep. You see Sofia’s eyes widen minutely – she doesn’t like the reminder that she might be losing her grip on him)

Lee says she knows about his other crimes. Sofia says she has her own dirt – but Lee tells her that she must need more, or she wouldn’t be threatening her. She smiles, confident, and tells Sofia to take her deal. And now the misstep is way more obvious. Sofia is quietly livid at the notion of someone seeing her slip up in any way. Her face hardens, and she tells Lee she has a better way to bring Jim to heel.

Sofia’s men shoot Lee’s guards. Lee tries to save one, and tells Sofia she’ll never get out of there alive. Sofia sneers

Your people. Who do think planted the guns?

Samson enters, and tells Lee she should have killed him. She really should have. Sofia tells Lee Samson runs the Narrows now, and points out that Lee’s failure to kill him told her everything she needed to know.

She had her men pin Lee down, and place her hand forcibly on the table. She talks out a hammer, and tells her that since she’s family, she’ll only do one hand.

Between covering my eyes and yelling ‘fuck!’ repeatdly, I could see that it was very gory – Sofia slamming the hammer into the back of Lee’s hand, mangling it, as she screamed in pain. When she’s done, she tells them to throw her on the streets and let the Narrows see its queen.

(An aside – I’ve talked about this elsewhere, but I think there’s a specific note of jealousy in Sofia’s actions, as well as her wider business concerns. Lee was loved by Mario and accepted by Carmine. I don’t know how secure Sofia feels of either of those things.)

Jim gets a call telling him about Lee. We get to the hospital and see him gazing through the window at her. A medic approaches and asks if he’s family. Jim looks tired. There’s a long pause before he replies

I'm a cop

The medic tells Jim Lee wouldn’t say who did it. Jim says she didn’t have to.

(An aside. I have to admit – Like Ed, I was surprised earlier that Lee was willing to deliver Jim even more fully into Sofia’s clutches. I assumed there were residual feelings, and they’d wind up back together, but now I’m not really so sure at all. That seems underlined here – as Jim stares at her through glass, and disavows any type of bond to her. I wonder if they have gone past the point of no return? Especially if Sofia enlightens Jim to the fact that Lee was willing to sell him out. Not that Jim doesn’t need to feel the salutary sting of what it would feel like to be betrayed - hopefully it might teach him something – but it might be a nail in the coffin)

Arkham. A frazzled-looking Ed sits at a desk. He’s signing himself in. The chief medic asks if he’s sure. Ed just looks tiredly at him

You do know who I am, don't you?

The man tells him to read and sign. As he does, Ed tells BadEd

I hate that you were right, but it will keep her safe

BadEd repeats his two eyes riddle, as we see Oswald approach the room.

(An aside – Uh, how? Does Oswald just get to wander with impunity? Did Jerome grant him his special charisma access? He didn’t seem entirely trusting of him that we last saw. If he did, does that access extend to stuff like this guy’s office? Surely pretty easy to escape if he has that, no? Oswald’s clever. Or at least – only when the narrative doesn’t need him to be stupid)

Ed is sick of this riddle, and tells him

Who cares?

You should

Oswald enters the room, accompanied by his villainous jangly music. He’s jubilant and faintly hysterical.

I knew you'd come

Ed is confused. But Oswald says he’s not talking to Ed,

I’m talking to him. I’m talking to him. He laughs. He read my letter.

Bad Ed waves the letter in front of Ed’s face.

Read the first word of each sentence

‘Please bring Ed to Arkham so I can set you free’

Ed looks desperate - cornered. BadEd repeats

What has two eyes but can't see?

Ed panics

No! I came here to save lee

Oswald laughs again – bordering on hysteria.

He read my letter

No – I am Edward Nygma. Lee believes in me and sees me for what I am.

Oswald lunges at his throat and grabs his collar.

But I see him! Lee Thompkins made Ed strong, but I see the other you. The one whose name I wouldn't speak. But because you have earned it and I need your help….

(An aside. This is a frightful guddle. Oswald never thought that ‘Riddler’ was a separate persona. He thought it was an absurd posey name Ed had adopted. The whole point of the grand Oswald/Ed friendship was apparently that Oswald saw BadEd and still thought that was fine and dandy. But now…..Oswald didn’t see that? Or the Riddler isn’t the combined Good and Bad Ed at all? I understand that Ed’s personality is complex – but it’s important to maintain some kind of consistency in who he is and how people perceive him – otherwise you just end up with a gungey mess like this)

Ed is frantic and begging

No - please

I need you, Riddler

Ed grabs his throat and face

Oswald waits, wide-eyed.

Poor Ed. We see several expressions chase each other across his face.

He puts the pen down

Shall we get to work?

Oswald laughs

Ed laughs

(An aside - Hmmm. It’s testament to CMS that a scene with so many wild inconsistencies plays so well. Ed realises he’s been trapped – but it’s too late. Or is it? It’s further testament to him that I think there’s some ambiguity at the end as to the precise nature of the amalgam that’s been created. It didn’t feel as instant or clean as it might.

This scene is also fairly clearly intended as an echo of Ivy and Selina’s stand-off, right down to the hands on the throat, and the appeals to the sense of history and friendship. The difference here is that while Selina genuinely wanted to help Ivy, and while Ivy showed Selina mercy – this is not the case with Ed and Oswald. Oswald shows Ed no mercy – despite his begging and pleading. Unlike Selina, Oswald wants to exacerbate his old friend’s insanity to get what he wants. I suppose you could say that Oswald owes Ed nothing, not after what he did to him – and, indeed, he doesn’t.

Still, it all seems rather ugly and selfish and sad, somehow.)

The kitchen at Wayne Manor. Alfred asks Bruce how he made it off the roof. Bruce tells him the fire escape. He then asks why he ran from Jim. Because Jim has a fucking twitchy trigger finger, Alfred, that’s why.

Bruce says he doesn’t know. He says he wants to help people, and if that means accepting every part of himself, he will - it’s what his parents would have wanted

Would they fuck, Bruce. Your parents would not want this weird psychological assault course Alfred has you attempting.

Alfred tells him his parents would have been proud of him – that he’s proud. He rises. Bruce offers him a lift back to Gotham, but Alfred tells him he’s home.

At GCPD, Harvey looks out over the desks. Jim approaches. Harvey congratulates him – he saved the day. That’s why he’s captain and Harvey’s a 50-year-old screw-up pouring shots.

Jim grimaces.

There’s a reason all right – but not what you think. I screwed up bad, and I need your help to make it right. Sofia hired Pyg - and I knew. I knew and I covered it up.

He’s teared up a little, but now he straightens up

And now I'm going to take her down

Harvey just looks at him. I’m not so sure I saw forgiveness there, if I’m honest.

(An aside – Jim’s big moment here is undermined by how quickly he leaps to the notion of taking Sofia down. It reads less like penance and making amends, and more like shifting the blame to the ‘real’ villain. But Sofia was only ever in town because Jim went to Carmine in the first place. I still don’t feel like he’s taking full responsibility for his actions.)

General Observations

Jim is making sort of vague movements towards making amends in confessing to Harvey – but it’s really not massively convincing. Harvey pointed out, last week, that Jim’s desire to confess is more down to Jim’s need to confess – rather than a genuine desire to make amends. He’s on a mission to take Sofia down, now – but, as I said, I still don’t think he’s anywhere near redemption.

Not a lot of Oswald, this week. I note that – Oswald’s desperation to leave Arkham aside, and that was there anyway – there’s not really one real repercussion of that prolonged and unpleasant storyline with Jerome here. Not one. You’d almost think it was unnecessary.

Aside from that, never mind what version of Ed we had - which version of Oswald was this? I can buy that Oswald is desperate enough to escape that he’s temporarily willing to be completely pragmatic – putting small matters like, say, digging up his father’s corpse to one side. But there are other logistical problems. Previously, Oswald thought that the whole notion of The Riddler was Ed being a poseur – but now he totally gets that the Riddler is the source of Ed’s villainous genius? And given how thoroughly dreadful Ed was on his last visit, why exactly would he think that any aspect of Ed’s dark side was being repressed? On top of that, let’s hope he’s got a back-up plan for when he gets out, because if he should have learned anything, it’s that Ed has a sadistic streak, and would betray him for laughs – or even just to make the point that Oswald does not get to summon him to Arkham to do his bidding.

As for Ed, his story just made me… sad, if I’m honest. He’s not my favourite character, but watching him desperately trying to hit on a combination of pills that will keep Lee safe and buy him some peace, watching him willing to kill himself to do the same, to escape the incessant harassment of a version of himself that he fears – it was genuinely sad. Ed’s ill, and he knows he’s ill.

We’ve seen a few points, over the years, where Ed has tried to get help. He tentatively told Kristen, on their first date, that he heard voices in his head – but she misunderstood him. He seemed to be improving in Arkham, to the point that he had apologised to Oswald for turning him away, but was still plainly ill – and looked bleakly at the doctor who told him he was sane. We see him struggle, here, to maintain control over his compulsions. But nevertheless, here he is again. Ed’s been not waving, but drowning, for a very long time.

I was honestly surprised, as I said, to see Lee willing to sell Jim’s secrets – but I guess it’s a sign of how far her story has moved on. She’s clever, and engaged ably with Sofia, but – at the moment, does not possess the ruthlessness to take her down, as Sofia herself pointed out. From spoilers, it sounds like she is going to cross that line soon. In crossing that line, there might also be common ground created with Ed (whatever version of him we have now), and as discussed above, I don’t think she seemed entirely closed off to the notion of him as a romantic option.

Selina and Ivy’s scene was one of the strongest – harking back to their shared past. Ivy is much improved now they’ve moved away from femme fatale and just made her indiscriminately lethal. A reassertion of Selina’s character was likewise welcome after getting lost in the boring catsuitted vortex of the Sirens’ storyline. It’ll be interesting to see what happens when they next encounter each other.

I’m not wildly engaged by Bruce right now. Sorry. I feel sorry for him – but the reasoning behind Alfred’s behaviour is absent.

Thoughts?

#gotham commentary #gotham s4e13 #reunion

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blogmahnoor · 3 years

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All You Need To Know About CATS

Most of the lesser complex animals, invertebrates, fish, amphibians, and reptiles probably have a worldview along the lines of 'it just is' and accept whatever comes along - go with the flow. But once you consider the relatively higher and more complex animals, like birds and mammals, then brain complexity becomes such that to a greater or lesser degree, intelligence and the ability to think and figure things out has to be taken into consideration.

For those of you who have companion animals, or even those of you who have just watched animals at a distance, you may have wondered how those animals view and perhaps even think about life, the universe and everything.CatifyCo That is, each animal must have some sort of personal worldview; a perspective or point of view probably forever beyond our understanding - usually but not always.

I'm picking on cats in this particular case because I've owned cats nearly all my life. This essay could just as easily have been dogs or horses or some other domesticated mammal.

So what are cats? Can we identify with them? Can they identify with us? Well, domesticated cats are playful; curious; adaptable; selfish; they dream; they like variety though they can also be creatures of habit; they can 'think' things through and make decisions; they have a vocal language and a body language; they display emotions; they have memory and therefore somewhat a sense of history; they have the same sensory apparatus as we have; they have their own likes and dislikes whether it be food; a place to sleep, where they want or don't want to be scratched or rubbed or petted; and, in short each cat has their own very unique personality. Cats are certainly very self-centred, perhaps a bit more so than typical adult humans, but certainly akin to human infants and toddlers whose worldview is very self-centred with a near 24/7 gimmie, gimmie, gimmie; I want, I want, I want. Cats, at least those intersecting with humans have a gimmie/I want aspect to them, and like infants/toddlers the 'pester' factor can often reach extremes. In short, cats really seem to be mini albeit furry versions of humans, especially infants/toddlers. But, how close might that version really be?

For starters, and perhaps like all animals, the cat probably has a worldview something akin to it being the centre of things - the be-all-and-end-all - and that the entire environment the cat finds itself in is there to provide for all the cat's requirements. From the domestic cat's point of view, the world owes it a living! How else could the cat view things? One's self perceptions tend to revolve around 'I am the centre of the universe' because you are most intimately bound up in your worldview with yourself and not as intimately with anything else. Therefore, anything else, in a self-centred worldview must be subservient. Of course the cat often finds out the hard way that parts of that external reality have differing opinions. That never seems to shift the cat's worldview however that it is 'top dog'* and deserves all the best that comes its way - which might not be all the 'best' that nature could provide but the cat doesn't know that.

Cats certainly have no comprehension, perhaps like toddlers, of being in the way, underfoot, in danger of being trodden on or sat upon, while helping themselves to whatever piece of household geography suits their fancy. One could conclude from their selfish (from our point of view) behaviour, their worldview must be one of 'supreme being' and 'rank has its privileges', and such a worldview will persist at least until such time as their tail gets stepped on or they get tossed out of the easy chair! They still probably see themselves as supreme beings - it's their worldview of you that's now somewhat changed.

The average head of the household and cat owner is probably somewhat of the opinion or has the rationale that 'I pay the bills, therefore I call the shots and what I say goes'! Cats can probably understand 'head of the household' in that in cat society, as in all animal societies, all cats are not equal - there is a hierarchy and one cat alone will be 'top dog' as it were. But there's nothing in a cat's worldview that corresponds to money or bills or economics or finance. Everything is a free lunch, be it sunshine or the electric/gas/wood heater you, the owner, pay for. Even if the cat goes outside and catches and eats a mouse, it's still as free a lunch as far as the cat is concerned as the food you put in its food bowl. So that bit about 'I'm the boss because I pay the bills' has no meaning or significance to the cat since the concept of 'bills' is foreign.

Cats have no mythology about shopping. The post Xmas sales and weekly specials at the supermarket are alien concepts. So is that nearly supreme abstraction to humans - time. Birthdays are a non-event with no realization when they occur and with no relevance in any event. Ditto all those other special points in time like holidays we humans are obsessed with. Cats don't make a habit of staying up late on New Years Eve. It's of no consequence. Weekends are no different than weekdays.

Equally the cat has apparently no worldview of tomorrow or of the future (though it has a memory of the past). It doesn't save for a rainy day. I've never observed a cat hide away a few of its dry cat food pellets for a future emergency or a midnight snack. A cat is very 'now' oriented. A cat probably has no concept of death, far less an afterlife. I've always tended to have two cats at a time on the theoretical grounds they have companionship when I'm not around. As such, one cat will finally get to go to that great 'litter box in the sky' and as such the surviving cat (for a while at least) will be without its companion feline 'friend'. I've never noticed however any real change in the behaviour of the surviving cat. The demise and removal of the other animal has apparently all the relevance of my tossing an empty can into the recycling bin. Now if I tossed out the cat's favourite easy chair that would probably cause more of a reaction!

It's difficult to teach a cat anything that isn't already hardwired into its little grey cells. I mean you don't tend to have guard cats, seeing-eye cats, or cats that sit up, stop on command at the corner, beg, and play fetch, etc. when their human owners say so. The cat's worldview is quite foreign to such concepts, though there's little difference between a cat's IQ and a dog's IQ. Maybe that's why the saying 'dogs have masters; cats have slaves' https://www.catify.co/collections/cat-clothing-for-humans

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bomberqueen17 · 6 years

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unicornduke replied to your post “domestic”

I super feel you on the food is hard. I've been having so much trouble lately and like, I want to eat food! but nothing is appetizing so I've mostly been surviving on granola and clemintines. I'm hoping that if I make brown rice for lunch and mac and cheese with bacon for dinner this week it'll make me feel better. It's also hard because I'm trying to clean shit out so I don't want to buy a ton of groceries.

Moving is the worst. The worst. It saps like, all will to anything. For me anyway.

I would just-- live on potatoes probably, except Dude doesn’t like to live that way, so. It’s probably good for me that I’m not ever left on my own, but. It does mean I gotta think it through. However, I don’t have to think it through alone. If I whine enough. (I know you got food Needs, and I have nothing but sympathy there. If I had any kind of meaningful restriction on what I eat I would probably be dead or miserably unhealthy by now because I am so bad at Coping.)

Dude and I sat together at the kitchen table and brainstormed, which helped a ton. And then, bonus, HE went grocery shopping, leaving me to clear out the guest room closet, which was AN ADVENTURE LET ME NOT TELL YOU.

(behind the cut is a week’s meal planning, which is boring but people like food, right?? It is SO nasty out right now we’re basically snowed in so let’s talk about food.)

1) roast the 3.5-lb pork loin in the freezer since LAST fall, the last remnant of the quarter hog we bought from my sister. (She wouldn’t let me pay money, but let Dude do so, it was funny.) Roast it with a butternut squash and serve it alongside the pierogis we impulse-bought that are still in the freezer.

(That’s a lie, there’s still more pig in the freezer, but all there is now is two big hunks of unrendered lard, which i gotta take care of, but we’re not quite through the last bit of rendered lard from before. maybe i’ll do that in the crock pot this weekend though. there’s still time. i’m dithering. if i render lard i’m gonna feel like i ought to make a pie though, and i don’t have anything to put into a pie unless i like. bake a blind crust and put pudding in it or something. which i’ve never done but like. that could be kind of amazing. but crusts made with lard tend to slump if you bake them blind and i don’t have any pie weights to prevent that. specialty items! i bake so much more at the farm, and Former Pastry Chef Farmsister has all the specialty items you could possibly want.) (i’d improvise pie weights out of washed stones but we’re snowed in, there are no stones to be had.) (ugh if i’m gonna do that i gotta get ‘em out and start ‘em defrosting now. blrggh. hey pastured pork lard is supposed to be higher in vitamin D than storebought butter so it’s a healthy fat in a way. that’s my rationale anyway. buy your spring hog share today! *throws glitter*)

2) leftover pork -- > pork fried rice with onions and a bunch of frozen veggies and some eggs scrambled in. That’ll be a good dinner and also make lunch leftovers for some of the week.

3) leftover butternut squash + frozen stock I found in the freezer (i think it’s beef? whatever) = butternut squash soup. Also make up bread dough and let rise in fridge, proof + bake then put soup together = a Good Dinner.

4) macaroni and cheese! with leftover pork if there still is any, or not. We splashed out and bought some gouda! to go in there. v. exciting.

5) meatloaf and potatoes and an unspecified side dish, probably frozen peas or something boring. only we forgot to buy ground beef so whoops. that one’s tabled until someone goes out and gets ground beef.

6) we have frozen ravioli so we bought chicken sausage to go along with. and sauce. regular sauce in a jar.

7) poached salmon and something that was adjacent to mac and cheese in the Joy of Cooking, some italian dish involving spinach and heavy cream called Hay And Straw. why not! dude wanted to make it so he’s gonna.

I’m going to go back to clearing out the guest room closet, which is like, an archaeological dig with a definite inexplicable strata of Shit I Was Still Wearing In 2008 And Buried In This Closet For No Reason??? currently. I’m also machine washing a bunch of stuff that said Dry Clean Only because of 2018′s updated version of YOLO, which is, WADE: We All Die Eventually.

I mean. If my Interviewin’ Suit from 2003 falls apart in the washing machine it is no great loss to humanity. Also that wool blazer I wore in high school that now has an inexplicable bleach stain on the arm. I’ll wash it and maybe take it apart because it was super nice but I can’t donate it with that spot on it. Who knows what I’ll do with it instead! If it’s not machine washable then it’s no use to me.

#unicornduke #food #menu planning #i need to find a recipe for alfredo sauce to send my bestie #last time but one i was at her house i impulse-made a batch of mac and cheese #sort of tipsily #there was some soft cheese that was gonna go off #and she was just going to make pasta and throw it on top #and i was like no make a bechamel sauce first #and she was like a what now #so i finished my overstrength manhattan and impulse-made a bechamel sauce #with skim milk because that's what she had #but i promise you the two point five pounds of fucking brie or whatever that was made up for it #it was amazing #i have some skills #now i want mac and cheese instead of whatever we were doing tonight #whatever i will have some this week and it will be glorious

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rotationalsymmetry · 4 years

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I swear, these things always come across to me as “if we close our eyes and cross our fingers and make sure to not eat any of the fairy food or say the wrong words, things will turn out OK.”

That’s not how reality works. In reality, sometimes people mess up and things work out anyways. And other times, people do everything right and things don’t work out.

Collectively, we can do things mostly right and get the red guy or do things mostly wrong and get the blue guy. It’s still worth trying to do things mostly right — I’m sufficiently sympathetic to virtue ethics that I believe in doing things mostly right even if it doesn’t always work out.

But I don’t think that blaming the Green Party for Gore’s loss in 2000 is doing things right. I don’t think that refusing to express ambivalence about the blue guy is doing things right. I don’t think that flipping out about a few people publicly saying they won’t vote, is doing it right.

Get Out The Vote is doing it right. Volunteering for your local Dem chapter is doing it right. Giving money to the Dems is...eh, I think that probably donating to bail funds or struggling individuals is a better use of your money right now, it’s what I’m doing with my money, but it’s a thing you can do if you have money.

(And yeah, bail funds and individual support are a thing you can do to help Biden get elected as well as directly help people. Generally speaking, marginalized people and BLM protesters are inclined to vote Democrat (and voting Republican is generally not even an option), and one thing that can be a barrier to people voting is being too distracted by how you’re going to pay the utilities bill or how you’re going to get your friend/sibling/child/etc out of jail. You know, survival stuff.)

Offering reminders to vote and help removing barriers to people who are open to that, is doing it right. Especially this year, since a lot of people are going to be voting by mail or otherwise voting early for social distancing reasons, and it can sometimes be helpful to have reminders to ask for your mail-in ballot on time.

Maybe arguing with people you actually know and have a relationship with about whether they should vote Dem, but tbh that’s probably not the best use of your energy, especially if they’ve made up their mind rather than sitting on the fence.

Trying to control what strangers say online? Not doing it right.

And if you’re a spoonie like me or too busy to volunteer but don’t really have limits around posting shit online, there are constructive things you can do just by posting to social media, including urging other people to do GOTV stuff, and posting info about getting your mail in ballot to be counted, and if you’re on a site that isn’t full of left of center people posting news articles etc that say that that voting by mail isn’t more prone to fraud, and other attempts to fact check things the red guy is lying about.

And when you see a post that you don’t like, that you think is wrong and harmful and that makes you so mad, you can take the impulse to argue and fight and control and turn it to one of the more constructive things to do to get out the vote. You can keep a list in Notes or something.

In the same way that (I hope) if you see a transphobic or ace exclusionist post, you don’t reblog it to argue with it and introduce that hate to your blog, but instead unfollow as necesssary and find something positive to do or say for trans or ace people instead. Y’know? Transmuting the urge to argue back into actual constructive action. This is basic social media survival, yeah?

Anyways. I realize I’m probably not going to change anyone’s mind here, and mostly the people posting on the cynicism side seem to have found their own rationales for rejecting the you-must-vote people’s arguments. But I guess for anyone reading this who does basically want the blue guy to win but feels attacked by some of the you-must-vote people’s posts, and are wondering if they may be right. Just know. They have other, better options. (And many/most people who support the blue party are in fact taking those options, and not making the annoying and manipulative you-must-vote posts.)

You’re OK. They’re being mean. (And probably scared.)

#i argue with the bi posts because I’m trying to sort it out myself #political #long post #us politics #us election 2020 #swearing #constructive action #effective action #that thing that i can’t shut up about #stoic on main

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funnydove-blog · 4 years

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Under The Influence

Under The Influence nother question to ask yourself regarding direction is this: ‘Who makes the decision about which direction I go in?’ Answer: ‘I do.’ You are the captain of your ship. ‘I make my own decisions.’ If you are a single adult woman, this is your mantra. You may still be dependent upon your parents to some extent. You may be in a relationship with another person, participating and sharing in the decision-making process.

The truth of the matter, however, is that unless you are a guest of your state or federal authorities (in prison, that is), you can and should make your own decisions about the important things in your life. The danger is that you may think you already do, and this may not be the whole truth.

There are three major influences you may be under that may negatively impact your ability to make good decisions and choose your own direction in life. They are:

mass media;

friends; and

family.

We’ll look at each of these in detail in an attempt to manage and reduce their impact on your life.

THE INFLUENCE OF THE MEDIA

Let’s discuss mass media first. If you watch four or five hours of television a day, you’re probably not making your own decisions about the food you eat, the beauty products you use, or the clothes you wear. You’re watching commercials and television programs that influence you to a huge degree and begin to make choices for you.

Companies spend billions of dollars on advertising for a reason: it works. It shapes people’s decision-making process, making them purchase things they don’t really need and even things that are not really good for them. It also contributes to a huge transfer of wealth from consumers to corporations, to the benefit of the latter at the expense of the former. A tremendous amount of research, deliberation, and effort goes into the work of separating you from your hard-earned money. Often, retailers are persuading you to purchase things that are not necessities.

For example, you don’t need a $50,000 car. However, when you repeatedly watch smart, slick car commercials filled with happy actors driving down the California coastline, with the sunroof open, the music playing, laughing all the way…you slowly begin to believe that you do need a $50,000 car.

You don’t need a $45.00 lipstick. Then, you see that beautiful model in the magazine ad or on the billboard wearing the same lipstick and she looks sultry, sexy, skinny, and confident. You want to be sultry, sexy, skinny, and confident. You don’t think the ad has any effect on you, but then, despite not being able to afford it, you find yourself walking by the cosmetics counter at the department store. You see—oh my!—the $45.00 lipstick! Then, you find yourself buying the $45.00 lipstick. Or, worse yet, having a drawer full of unused $45.00 lipsticks in every color under the sun. Come on, ladies.

Warning: this is the power of the mass media. You don’t need all these things, but advertising makes you think you do. Revelation: the time and money you spend browsing for and purchasing frivolous consumer products is better spent on purchasing your freedom through education, exercise, and self-improvement. Know their game. Stay on your game.

Many people find themselves overweight, seriously ill, or in debt because of this powerful undue influence that negatively impacts their lives. The fact that people spend billions of dollars a year on soft drinks which contribute to a variety of illnesses is just one obvious example. More specifically, have you ever noticed that a certain product is not good for you and that you really don’t need it? Nonetheless, you can’t resist the impulse to purchase it? (One more lipstick…that soft drink…or those shoes). It’s not good for you, you don’t need it, but you still buy it. This illogical sequence of events is symptomatic of someone who’s been subtly brainwashed by advertising.

Advertising is not the only culprit. The internet is fertile ground for corporations and governments to get into your head and shape your opinions. Its evil spawn, social media, can warp your perspective, corrupt your priorities, and expose you to undue influence from often anonymous sources with hidden agendas.

In order to clear your mind of undue influence, it can be helpful to reduce your exposure to mass media, namely television, radio, and the internet. Obviously, the internet is a great source for information and a great platform for communication. Use it wisely.

ONE STEP BACK

There are steps you can take to minimize the influence of the internet and social media on your life. Limit your Daily Internet Exposure (DIE) to an hour a day outside work. Shift your social interactions from digital to real time: a cup of coffee with a friend instead of a text; a dinner with real-world friends instead of a post to Facebook friends; take a walk in the park instead of watching endless YouTube videos.

Pull back from media influence as a first step toward making decisions for yourself. Avoid ‘feel good’ purchases, ‘impulse’ shopping, and ‘power’ purchases, i.e., purchases made that give you a feeling of power or control. The fact that you can buy something doesn’t mean you have power. It just means you’ve made a choice to spend money.

‘BOGO’ (buy one get one free) is an effective marketing strategy. Be aware of it and avoid it. Avoid the ‘just in case’ purchases as well. The ‘just in case’ purchase is often a rationale to spend money on something that may or may not be used for an event or situation which may or may not occur in the near or distant future. Don’t kid yourself: you’re wasting money. Purchase things when you need them. Ask yourself if you’re guilty of any of the following:

wearing the clothes and makeup the media tells you to buy, looking a lot like everybody else, and maybe spending more money than you should;

carrying the purse you’ve seen advertised in fashion magazines because it provides you with a sense of status, even if you’re working for minimum wage;

driving a car you’ve seen advertised on television, because on television everyone is having so damn much fun driving that car! And it’s so cute! Oh my god!

Again, media influence can be costly. How many people do you know who have drawers full of cosmetics and beauty products they never use? Or exercise equipment that does nothing more than sit in the garage or act as a clothes hanger in the spare bedroom? Or pay monthly rent on personal storage units to hold unused, surplus household items that they never use?

These examples are the results of excessive consumer spending. Below are some symptoms consumers exhibit when they’ve been unduly influenced by advertising. Which if any of these statements true for you?

I purchase things I don’t need;

I don’t understand why I make these purchases;

I have difficulty not purchasing things;

I walk around a mall or department store in a zombie-like stupor, looking

aimlessly for something to purchase;

I feel a sense of personal accomplishment or euphoria when I make a purchase;

I don’t use the items that I purchase;

I’m in debt or broke because of my spending.

Let me share some wisdom from a friend of mine. She’s a well-educated, affluent, and charming young lady who lives in New York City. She has a fulfilling career and a circle of great friends. She dresses elegantly, stylishly, and simply. We met in a hotel lobby around Christmas time. I asked her if she’d been shopping. She shook her head dismissively, and added that she shops about four days a year. The rest of her time is spent working, traveling, socializing, mentoring, and reading. She lifted her tea cup to her lips, and then almost whispered to me, ‘The more cluttered the closet, the emptier the life.’

Note: keep your life uncluttered. Guard your mind and your quiet time, day in and day out, so you can determine the best direction for you, long term and short term. Be aware of what you read. Take care of who and what you listen to on television and on the internet. Make sure you’re really making your own decisions and going in your own direction, without undue influence. And, as a great Indian poet once said, be suspicious of what you want.

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nerdyfoodandbeercollector-blog · 7 years

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Depression Series: At least it was for nachos (part 2)

A fair warning is probably needed, I suppose: This post is not and has nothing to do with feer and bood (or beer and food, for that matter). This is a multi-part series I decided to write about living with my depression. Super uplifting stuff (but seriously give it a shot, you might learn something). I guess this second part is about friends.

On my drive home from the taproom where I worked a shift after my regular day job, I decided I had no desire to cook dinner. For one, there wasn’t anything ready to be cooked, but also I didn’t want to eat any leftovers and sacrifice a meal that would be perfect for tomorrow. So I decided to spend money because of course, that’s what we do, isn’t it? And of course, nothing sounded better than grub from a local taqueria I have fallen head over heels for.

After calling my wife to tell her (ask if it is a good idea) to get some tacos for dinner, I pull into the parking lot. As I walk in, a man from the neighborhood walks up to me and asks me for some money so he can buy some dinner. The man appeared to be homeless and ill-equipped for the winter weather we were starting to have. Feeling slightly upbeat, I tell him that while I don’t have any cash (and I didn’t), I would be happy to buy him a taco. I’ve done this in the past, I feel like it gets to the heart of the issue with some panhandlers: either they just want your money or they really do want the things they are asking for. In this case, the man wanted the food and he definitely did look hungry to me-- He graciously accepted the taco offer.

We went into the restaurant together and after an awkward encounter with a patron leaving the place, he looked over the menu and noticed there were other offerings than just tacos. He soon began asking me to buy additional items to which I responded that he pick just one. “Chicken nachos then,” he said, and this was a good choice, I thought, for who doesn’t like nachos?

After he ordered, the man started to walk around and see who else he could get change from. This was odd, seeing as I had already purchased him dinner, and I could tell the servers were annoyed when he scolded customers that didn’t bus their trays. Finally, he found the drink cooler and after picking some orange soda, he asked the servers behind the counter if he could have it. “$1.08″ they said to his disliking. After a few minutes of him trying to barter with them, he turned to me to see if I would buy it for him.

“I already paid,” I said. “And I don’t have any cash. Still. Sorry, man.”

His nachos were ready, a heaping pile of chips and cheese with chicken and beans. You can’t go wrong (well, maybe about the beans. I mean, why does everything have to have beans?).

The man then slowly started to put the orange soda in his jacket, as if to steal it. The server kept telling him “$1.08″ but it only made him more frustrated.

Then the man stopped, sighed, and reached into his pocket and pulled out a few loose dollars ...

... And a crisp $100 dollar bill.

The servers behind the counter were madder than I was. Honestly, at that point, I just wanted my food to take home and watch The Good Place. I actually found it, at the time, a little funny. I mean, here was this guy that looked homeless (or at least poor) asking me for tacos when he had more cash on him than I’d had in weeks. The servers yelled at him for making me pay for his food, they knew what was up.

The man put $1.10 on the counter, grabbed his food, and then turned for the exit, but not before telling me “Yo I got you, man.” What does that mean here in this case? That he’s going to pay me back in tacos, that he was going to break that $100 and give me cash for the nachos? That he was grateful? Was that his way of saying thank you?

He never did actually say thank you.

I drove home and was still finding the whole situation a little funny when suddenly my laughing became more nervous and suddenly I was anxious about how I feel about humanity as a whole. And then I was in yet another funk. Don’t worry, the tacos and torta I got helped, but I couldn’t help think about how I treat people and how I want to be treated and then how am I actually treated.

See, my therapist, let’s call her Deloris (because why the fuck not?), thinks I am a bit of an empath. And yet, at the same time, she thinks I have no desire to treat myself with empathy or to try and get better. I try to be nice to everyone around me and I constantly want to please everyone (and people always tell me that I can’t please everyone but then I try it anyways and sometimes it works but what they don’t tell you is that usually the person you don’t ever please is yourself, at least if you do it that way). If you look at my various jobs over the years, they’ve been in areas to help people. Service industry jobs are serving and helping people. At Best Buy, I was supporting stores to ensure no customer went “unserved.” Technical writers write up steps so you don’t misuse a tractor, causing it to blow up (that is, of course, if I wrote tractor manuals). I’m always there offering a smile, a hug, even a meal (like the nachos here or a homecooked meal for a friend). I love hosting. I offer up all my beer and vices to anyone that will join me because I’m just a friendly guy.

Or so I thought! Dramatic!

Recently, let’s say the last few years, I’ve felt that I have a really hard time making new friends. I’m almost immediately in my own head, thinking of ways to sabotage the conversation, the moment, the encounter so that I don’t have to talk to anyone anymore. Why is that? I like talking to people, don’t I? And then I listen to them talk about a trip or a new job or a new house or a better life and I know I should be happy for them, but then all I want to do is bury myself alive. It isn’t even logical, sometimes whatever I’m jealous about isn’t even something I care about or am interested in, yet I just can’t stop, and I know it makes no sense, has no rhyme or reason, but I can’t shake the feeling that I just can’t be happy for others. And that prevents me from wanting to be their friend, or even truly being friendly.

But then I think, wait, I feel these things before I hear about the new job, the trip, the new cat. My anxiety starts going well before any of that, fuck, it starts when I enter a room and don’t light it up. Something stops me from wanting to make friends before my depression and anxiety can step in and make me feel awful about myself and for myself when I hear about all things I can’t do or couldn’t do or don’t do or haven’t done. Odds are, it’s still my depression and anxiety. It’s a weird double-edged sword, cycle thing: I have the tools to see others suffering and to try and help them through it, and I want to do that because it is one of the ways I feel validated, but I have no desire to help myself, which makes me sad so I continue to slip down, which then makes me see how others don’t treat me, how the world really is, which makes me not want to be nice or use those tools to help others. If I meet their lack of kindness with kindness, then it will only make me sad because I’m not being treated how I want to be treated, and if I stoop to their level and treat ugliness with ugliness, then I am doomed to feel worse and feel ugly for not being who I really want to be. Either way, I’m fucked.

Lately, with this whole introspective analysis on my depression and trying to open up in the hopes of self-discovery, I’ve had this train of thought. Who knows if it’s right or not but... The thing is, I've had a hard time knowing where my depression ends and I begin. I don't really know who I am anymore because for so long I've been trying not to face something that's so very much a part of me and I can’t separate the two. How can I be friends with someone if I don’t even know who I really am?

The last few months, I've been trying to change (like I said, self-discovery). I've been talking and listening and learning and opening up to the idea that I don't deserve this, that I shouldn't be this sad, that there's more to this life than feeling crushed by a wave of emotion (and I can't swim)... And then there's that voice again, telling me to hate myself. And we start over. The thing is, the important thing to keep in mind is, I am constantly just self-criticizing myself. There’s always something I am doing wrong. But that means I am constantly trying to do more, trying to do better, striving to be better. I have high expectations of myself. I guess I don’t know what I can do to make people actually care about others. Have their own empathy. Like, when I ask nicely for you to move so I can get off the bus and you decide this is somehow my fault and that you standing there is more important than letting me off the bus, how do I meet that with kindness?

And so, what if this time, I am actually protecting myself? What if I have been so sick and tired of being nice for so long and not getting kindness in return that I am trying to tell myself to be an ass because, well, that’s what you’re going to be to me. What if the reason I don’t help people anymore is that they don’t help me? What if I am getting colder and colder because that’s what I am exposed to? From the people on the bus that decide not to move out of the way to let me off to the guy cutting me off on the highway to the co-worker that doesn’t hold the elevator all the way to the people in Charlottesville rioting on hate to the president of these United States who has admitted to sexually assaulting women to the Harvey Weinstein’s of the world. Are these good people? Are they worth my kindness, my empathy? Or do I just have high expectations for these people, higher expectations than they can actually live up to because they are the expectations in my mind?

And is any of this rationale, even? Or just more of my depression and anxiety? I’ve often tried to live with the general rule that all human beings deserve respect for the sole reason that they are human beings. Kindness, caring, equity, empathy. All because we are more alike than we are different because we are made of stars. We’re all stardust.

The truth is, even if it is actually the case, that I protect myself by being mean deep down so I can’t be hurt when I am disappointed, that isn’t a way to live. I don’t want to be that way. I need community. And the bitter truth is, my community is always going to change as people come and go. It’s better to keep it growing rather than tear it down.

What does this have to do with nachos, John? Well, it would be easy for me to just give up, especially after getting “cheated” by someone pretending to be in need. It would be easy to give up on those that need our help, to use this as an example to give up on humanity. And to use this as another reason to not be friendly, or to be cold to the world. But I just can’t do that and expect to get anywhere. I need to fight as much as I am able this idea that it is me against the world, that I have a chip on my shoulder and everyone’s to blame. Recognizing it, talking about it... that’s half the battle, indeed.

It’s hard, though. A part of me wants to use my anger that people aren’t nicer as a reason to be nasty, too, fight ugly with ugly. Hell, a part of me has probably already accepted that that's the way to be. But there’s still a voice inside of me that’s laughing and saying, Hey, at least they were nachos.

#nachos

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lalainajanes · 7 years

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Yes!! How about one where Klaus introduces Caroline to Hope for the first time. Or a Hayley and Caroline bonding one and Klaus being creeped out about it lol! :)

This prompt was from when I asked for mini ones two weeks ago.It works for klarolineinfinity so I thought I’d finish it up! I *think* it was a reply and not an ask but it’s not in my notifications anymore and I’m sorry but I forgot to copy the prompter with the prompt! Warning: borrows HEAVILY from the various spoilers floating around so don’t read it you don’t know them!

Friends and Enemies

Caroline’s only half paying attention to the contract in front of her – she and this witch have been going back and forth over her employment terms for weeks but it looks like they’ve finally come to an agreement – her hearing carefully tuned to what’s going on around her. The twins are sprawled on a rug with Hope, deep in an intense game of Candyland (the Disney Princess edition). Josie tends to ascribe to a win at all costs mentality and has been known to be a little underhanded. Caroline might be able to relate (anyone who’s ever played a board game with her knows she’s a pro at trash talk) but she’s trying to encourage a little sportsmanship.

If only because tiny tempers sometimes boiled over and became big magical accidents. Hope was a sweet kid but new to the whole socialization thing. Plus, none of her relatives were what could even charitably be called even tempered (save perhaps Freya – Klaus had explained the sister popping up from the dead but Caroline had only met her once in passing) or well-adjusted so the fact that Hope even tried to rein herself in was something of a miracle.

Nevertheless, the three of them had all sorts of power at their disposal and Caroline would rather not have her office bear the brunt of the damage they’d cause if a squabble escalated. Not when it had taken months to get everything renovated and just how she liked it.

The furnishings for the office wing had all come with the property and considering the property was Klaus’ Caroline was sure the rug cost a pretty penny. The hardwood floors of her office were also original, and gorgeous once they’d been painstakingly restored, singeing them would be a crime.

She’s also listening because she’s expecting Klaus to show up any sometime soon. She’s got a pencil shoved into her hair, keeping it off her face, and that’s not a look she wants him to see. She’d treated herself to a wardrobe upgrade when they’d first moved to New Orleans rationalizing that a move to a big city, finally, was the perfect occasion to update her style a little. Alaric had raised an eyebrow at the pile of bags he’d watched her unload from the car but thankfully had kept his mouth shut. She’d had a rationale all prepared – the climate was different – but she’d been glad it hadn’t been necessary. Alaric could read her alarmingly well these days and she had no desire to examine the reasons why she’d been determined to look her best.

They’d slapped her in the face easily enough on the first day of the term in September.

Because while Klaus hadn’t commented on her attire either the frank appreciation in his eyes as he’d taken in her sleek grey dress and black leather pumps that first morning had said volumes.

The answering twinge of satisfaction she’d felt had let Caroline know that all the claims she’d made about not wanting to consider a romantic relationship right now, that she was far too busy and still getting used to a whole new life to open up that can of worms, might have been more bluster than truth.

Klaus hadn’t pressed the issue, not overtly anyway. But Hope staying behind, in Caroline’s care, for an hour or two after school let out was not uncommon. She was unsure of how much of the urgent business Klaus claimed to have was legitimate because he seemed to have no problem lingering over the dinner he usually brought with him (Caroline was pretty sure he was systematically making his way through the best restaurants in New Orleans and that he was probably compelling or bribing some of them into providing kid friendly options).

He’d promised her food was one of New Orleans’ best attributes, once upon a time, and he was certainly not wrong about that.

She perks up when she hears footsteps, but only for a moment before she grows wary.

That’s not Klaus’ tread, it’s lighter and not as smooth, not belonging to any of Caroline’s few friends and acquaintances. She pushes away from her desk, palming her silver letter opener as she rounds it, to stand between the door and the girls. The building’s the school operates on are all spelled. Each of the nine local covens had contributed and Caroline had asked Bonnie to do so as well on one of her visits.

Turns out that knowing an all powerful badass witch who could pop between dimensions was super handy.

Someone with bad intentions shouldn’t make it very far but Caroline knew that magic was rarely foolproof, and she’d been burned before. She keeps her posture relaxed so she doesn’t alarm the kids (Lizzie’s remarkably empathetic) but eyes the door suspiciously.

She’s gotten her hands dirty to protect the girls before. She’d do it again in a heartbeat.

There’s a brief knock before the door turns and Caroline’s momentarily relieved at the familiar head that pops through the door.

Only momentarily.

Caroline was a master grudge holder and Hayley Marshall wasn’t currently one of her favorite people. Caroline could grudgingly admit that it seemed as if she’d do anything for Hope, and she’d heard a few brief stories that made it seem like Hayley’s life post Mystic Falls hadn’t been a cake walk, but Caroline remains guarded.

A snapped neck and betrayal will do that to a girl.

Still, she could be polite. It was technically her job. She pastes on a smile and shifts to the side, tossing the letter opener back on the desk. Hayley watches her de-arm with a raised eyebrow, and maybe a brief flash of respect. “Hey, I guess you’re on pickup duty?”

The girls have barely glanced up, to intent on their game.

Hayley takes a tentative step further in, “Yeah, Elijah texted me. He and Klaus are trying to collect Kol but not having a ton of luck. I’m not sure about the details but I’m sure Klaus will fill you in. You guys have to talk about something when you have your casual dinners, right? I’m supposed to, ‘Convey Niklaus’ deepest apologies for his tardiness and thank Ms. Forbes for her understanding.’”

Caroline blinks for a moment, finds she wants to smile a bit at Hayley’s deeply pompous inflection, “Uh, okay.”

“I’m sure Klaus will make it up to you,” Hayley says, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

Yeah, Caroline was so not willing to go there. She missed quality girl talk but not that badly. “Well, he gave me a house to run the school in so I figure I’m the one who owes him.”

Hayley’s snort is incredulous, “Oh, please. He would have given you ten houses to get you here. He was pissy that you insisted on fixing up the outbuildings and living on the grounds instead of somewhere nicer. Was a real bitch to live with that week, let me tell you.”

They hear a tiny gasp and Caroline glances behind them. Lizzie and Josie are looking a little wide eyed. Hayley looks chagrined, “Whoops, sorry. Language.”

Caroline waves that away, “Don’t worry about it.”

Hope’s bounced up to her feet, “Mom, hi!”

Hayley runs a hand through Hope’s hair, her face softening, “Get your things, okay?”

Lizzie and Josie help and soon Hope’s got her schoolbooks crammed into her backpack, shoes and jacket on. They’re just beginning to say their goodbyes (drawn out since it was a weekend, basically forever to a pair of 5 year olds and a 7 year old) when Caroline hears the familiar noise that Bonnie makes when she propels herself through dimensions. It’s sort of a weird cracking, and while Caroline’s used to it, welcomes it even, Hayley goes rigid, shoving Hope behind her, her fangs dropping. Caroline throws herself in front of Hayley before she can think to lunge – Bonnie can take care of herself but Caroline doesn’t want to clean up blood any more than she wants to deal with fire. “It’s fine!” she rushes out, shoving Hayley back slightly. “You remember my friend Bonnie, right? She poofs in sometimes. It’s a long story.”

“Poofs?” Hayley asks, still eyeing Bonnie like she’s a threat. “Since when do witches poof?”

“She’s not just a witch. Not anymore. It’s complicated but she’s kind of like the devil? Only nice. Well, nice-ish.

“Thanks, Care,” Bonnie says dryly.

Caroline ignores her, “And she doesn’t eat souls. She brings them to her happy little paradise place totally toll free.”

“Are you high?”

Caroline huffs out an offended breath, “Yeah, I get high in front of my children. That’s how I roll. Doesn’t Klaus tell you anything?”

Hayley shrugs, “We don’t do heart to hearts.”

Hope peeks out from behind Hayley’s back, makes an annoyed face when she doesn’t get far before Hayley blocks her, “It’s true, Mom. Miss Bennett teaches us sometimes.”

Josie and Lizzie have wandered over and wrapped themselves around Bonnie’s legs, “Yeah, Aunt Bon’s the best,” Lizzie tells Hayley.

“You can ask Klaus,” Caroline tells her. “Seriously. I’ve explained how everything went down.”

“Have you?” Bonnie asks, sounding speculative, “What happened to, ‘I’m not moving to New Orleans for Klaus?’ Have you been taking long walks in the woods? Discussing the best methods of tree removal, maybe?”

Caroline glares, the innuendo not lost on her even if it probably is on everyone else in the room. She’d gotten a little drunk and a lot overshare-y once and Bonnie had never let her forget it. She waves her hands, nods over to her paper strewn desk, “Um, hello. Look around. I do plenty here. Wrangling three dozen kids of various supernatural backgrounds and half a dozen staff isn’t easy, FYI.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Hayley interjects slyly, “You work very hard. Must be why Klaus takes it upon himself to bring you dinner every night.”

“It’s not every night,” Caroline denies, wincing as her voice rises in pitch. That wasn’t going to make them believe her.

Hayley glances over at Bonnie, “She won’t agree to anything else. Klaus thinks he’s being sneaky.”

Bonnie’s eyebrows have steadily crept up and Caroline knows she’s got some explaining to do. Ugh, good thing it was Alaric’s weekend to have the girls. She’d totally need booze to withstand this interrogation. “Thanks so much, Hayley,” Caroline manages, her tone dripping with faux sweetness, “for all your help.”

Hayley seems unbothered. “No problem. Klaus usually goes to the bar on Fridays, in case you were wondering. You know the one.”

Caroline grits her teeth to refrain from spitting out that she had known that. Klaus had mentioned it, his not so innocent assertion that they stocked an excellent selection of champagnes less than subtle. Hayley ushers Hope out the door, the girl waving at the twins once more before she departs.

Caroline turns from Bonnie, knowing she can only stall so long, clapping her hands together, “Alright! Girls, put the game away, please. Make sure you get all the pieces because I am sure you’ll want to play it this weekend.”

The scurry to collect the various parts, stowing them carefully under Caroline’s watchful gaze. “Do you have wine?” Bonnie asks lowly. “Because we’re going to need it. I can poof somewhere and get some?”

“I do. And bourbon,” Caroline answers. “But maybe get the things for cookie dough?” Sugar always made awkward conversations better, in her opinion.

“On it,” Bonnie murmurs, and soon she’s gone again.

The girls look up, faces etched in disappointment. Caroline smiles warmly, “Aunt Bonnie will be back in a bit, babies. You’ll see her later, promise.”

It would be a momentary distraction for Bonnie, Caroline knew, and she’d have all sorts of questions about Klaus and what Caroline was doing (or considering doing) about him.

Caroline wasn’t sure that Bonnie would like the answers but that was okay. Caroline knew that Bonnie trusted her to make her own decisions, even if she thought they were mistakes. Bonnie hadn’t been thrilled to go to Caroline’s ill-fated wedding a few years back but in the end she’d shown up. It was just the two of them now, Stefan and Elena and Matt all living human lives, Damon in the wind and so many others long gone. They’d figure it out.

Back then Caroline had been clinging to her human dreams, had them in a death grip because she’d felt them slipping away. It’s different now, she’s different now, learning more and more about the supernatural world became a necessity when she and Alaric had opened the school and it’s no longer foreign and scary but filled with possibilities.

Possibilities had been what Klaus had offered her, years and years ago, and Caroline thought she might be nearly ready to explore a few of them.

Maybe she’d drag Bonnie out for drinks once Josie and Lizzie were safely with Alaric. And if they happened to run into some familiar faces what’s the worst that could happen? Bonnie and Klaus were both pretty much un-killable and Klaus could afford to cover any and all property damage.

As long as it wasn’t her office Caroline could deal.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klarolineinfinity

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