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unabashedrebel · 5 years

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Monsters Under the Bed

“Dad?” A small, timid, and squeaky- yet familiar- voice reverberated from the foot of his bed.

Kirollis tipped his book down slightly to peak his emerald eyes over the pages. Only to spy a child no older than five, with chestnut brown hair that reached down to her shoulders, standing just tall enough to poke her head up past the mattress. Wrapped up in a nightgown as she clutched a small stuffed bear close to her chest. With a stern look of concern she diligently waited for her fathers answer.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed little lady?” Kirollis spoke in a tone that held parental twinge in a mixture of love and reprimand in the same breathe.

“I was but…” Soriya replied sheepishly as her chin tucked into her chest before confessing, “I heard something in my closet and I'm scared.”

There was little he could do to help the smile that curled at the corners of his lips. Of course there weren’t monsters in their home. It was one of the safest places to be. But she had never been scared before, even when they decided that a night light wasn’t needed. The request, while trivial, warmed his heart in ways he didn’t know existed. The earnest ask of protection, and the one thing he wanted to prove that he could provide, and here that opportunity was without even having to search for it.

Two fingers came to grasp the corner of his current page, folding a crease into it and earmarking his page before he put the book down entirely. A soft and slow chuckle escaped him as she sat up and shifted down the length of the mattress only to have his legs flank his much smaller daughter.

“Well…. Lucky for you I happen to be a professional monster slayer.” The rogue stated with that confident swagger he loved to exude. Leaning forward just a tad more he would plant a quick peck right to Soriyas forehead before offering a hand out as if asking her to lead him.

Soriyas little face scrunched together at the display of affection before a wide grin came in response to her father's triumphant words. It was exactly what she needed to hear and the youthful indifference of a toddler displayed that fact with a sense of pride. Quickly snatching that offered hand and tugging her father right along to her room down the hall.

After they had broached the threshold to Soriyas slice of their apartment, a hand came to paw at the wall beside the entrance. Fumbling in the dark for a moment before finally the switch was flipped at the room illuminated to show off the light blue paint that Soriya had loved so much. Looking every bit a childs room, toys strewn about half put away and half left, a pile of stuffed animals lay on her bed as if she shared her sleeping space with her collection. Everything was miniature, from the bed to the dresser, even the mirror seemed fit to the young Sin’doreis small stature.

But Soriya had wasted little time in tugging her father toward the closed door closet.

With a quirked brow, Kirollis used his free hand to point to the closet in question. Waiting for confirmation that this was the source of her fear. “Well here’s your problem. The doors closed.” The rogue remarked in that know-it-all tone of his. “You’ll never see them coming if you give them places to hide.” Though the rogue spoke of monsters of an entirely different breed.

“I dont wanna leave it open.” Soriya protested. “If I leave it open then they can just come get me.”

“Do you want me to put a lock on it?”

The young Sin’doreis face lit up at the prospect, “You can do that?!”

Kirollis couldn’t help but chuckle as he reached for the door knob. Opening the fatefully haunted closet only to find nothing but the childs wardrobe and storage. Certainly no monsters. “I mean I could. But if you lose the key then you won’t be able to get any of your stuff.”

“I’ve seen you open locks without a key before.” Soriya once more proved that while young, she was no less sharp for it. A revelation that never failed to leave Kirollis speechless every time he was bested by a toddler. Even if a sense of pride outweighed that fact tenfold.

Muttering something beneath his breath Kirollis did his best to change the topic, “I don’t see any monsters in here.” He spoke in a calm and sure tone. Even moving away some of the winter clothes on the rack and checking behind them. “Nope. Well…” Picking up a well worn and run down stuffed rabbit and presenting it to the child he added, “Unless you count this. I thought you were getting rid of this one, Kiddo?”

With swift hands Soriya snatched her prized possession from her fathers grasp, “Not Sir Hops! Aunt Rei gave it to me I can’t get rid of him!” Clinging to the toy as if she would rather fight him then give it up.

Kirollis merely chuckled and shook his head. “Right. Well at the very least you should show him some love then. Maybe you know, wash him up a bit. Sew a new button in his eye.” Mulling over that prospect for a moment he finally offered, “We can do it together if you want.”

Soriyas head bobbed up and down excitedly, “Okay!” Though that excitement wore off a moment later. Hesitantly the young lady looked over to her bed, letting those green eyes linger there for a moment.

“Everything okay?”

“...can you check under the bed, too?”

Of course, without a second thought, Kirollis closed the closet door and made his way over to her pint-sized bed. Dropping down to his knees, and then his hands, before lifting the comforter where it hung and glancing beneath the crevice between the bed and floor.

With Soriya right beside him the thoughts of pranking her crossed his mind. All it would take was an errant hand grabbing at her ankle to send the five year old shrieking. One of the rare joys of parenthood. If you couldn’t scare you own kids, which kids could you scare? Though rationality got the better of him in the end. After all, it would run completely counter to getting her to sleep.

“Nothing here, either.” Kirollis confirmed before sliding back to sit atop his shins. “Come on kiddo, you’re all clear.” Letting his hands drift to her sides, he would hoist her up like a sack of potatoes. Setting her down gently on her bed.

“What if they come get me when you’re sleeping?” Soriya asked in a bid to keep her father in the room just a little bit longer.

“Are you old enough for a knife?” The rogue joked. “I can slip one under your pillow just in case.”

“Dad!” Soriya protested.

With a mirthful snicker he once more shook his head, “I’m just down the hall, sunshine. If you can’t make it just yell real loud, okay?” He said with every ounce of truth he could muster. She was too young to understand that it didn't matter what she needed him for. If she ever did, he would be there. With a paw to the top of her head, the rogue would give his daughters auburn hair a ruffle. “I promise I’ll always be there.”

A bright smile overtook the child's expressions, seemingly content with his answer. “Okay. I believe you. I love you, dad.”

“I love you too sweetie.”

While he played it cool exiting her room and flipping off the light with a “Night.” Kirollis could do little to contain the swell of happiness that grew in his stomach. To have that moment. To be a father and do silly things that your kid needed from you. To show them- her- that it didn’t matter how small or large the request. That he would always be there to check the closet or under the bed for monsters, and vanquish them if they dared to threaten her. It was symbolic, it was visceral, it was…. A feeling he never got to experience in earnest.

With a long breath exhaled through his mouth until it was the start of a sigh, Kirollis pushed his door closed. Only leaving it slightly ajar incase Sori did end up screaming tonight. It was a fifty fifty shot that she would eventually find her way to his own bed on nights like this one. Curling up on top of his comforter the Rogue rested his head back against his pillow.

“There’s only one monster in this house.” Several voices echoed around the small room in disorienting fashion. Both haunting and threatening in their sweet symphony of malice. “Didn’t they teach you that you don’t deserve this. The Apple Pie life isn’t for you, sweetheart. What are you going to do when she finds out what you are? -Who- you are. What happens when she finds out she’s been living with a monster all this time.”

A monsterous hand, as black as night, reached out in the void of darkness. It mixed with the lack of light in the room to the point where it was questionable if it was there or not. Right up until it curled its clawed digits against the front of his skull.

He tried to scream. He tried to call out for help. But he couldn’t move, frozen and paralyzed beneath the weight of whatever demon invaded his space. Leaving him with but one final line; “We tried to teach you that everything can be taken away. Why didn’t you listen?”

It was over in a flash as Kiriollis sprung forward from beneath his sheets with a shriek that likely woke up the entire floor of his apartment building. His hands sprung backward to keep himself propped up. His breathing heavy as he gasped for air, the hastened and visible rise and fall of his chest sporadic but rhythmic. Sweat rolled down his exposed skin in rivets. Frantic eyes roved around the room as if searching for an entity to associate the horrors from a moment ago.

“Hey! Are you okay?” A familiar voice rang from the doorway to his room, where an adult Soriya now stood. Obvious concern in her voice as she flipped on the light to find the mess of her father sprawled out on his bed.

Reaching a hand up to his face, Kirollis tried to rub the fear from his expressions as he continued to try and calm down. “I uhm…” He said, though cut short as he continued to process what had just happened. Finally offering up, “Just a bad dream I guess.”

“...I’m still up. If you can’t get back to sleep we can go listen to the radio or something.”

“I think I’ll be alright.”

“If you say so. Try not to wake up the neighbors next time, okay?” She teased.

“Hey… Sori?”

“Hmm?”

“This is going to sound really dumb… but can you check my closet?”

“What am I looking for?”

“Monsters.” Kirollis replied in an oddly serious tone.

#IC #canon #stories #kiro & sori #kirollis

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sp4c3-0ddity · 5 years

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the eve of it all

technically i had this idea before season eight so it doesn’t have any real spoilers, but i didn’t write it till after so you can consider it a fluffy little fix-it that disregards it entirely if you like (i know i am lol)

~1800 words. enjoy!! <3

The eve of their launch back into space, diving deep into the unknown, and Pidge can’t sleep. Streetlights shine through the thin curtains covering her bedroom window, plastic stars stuck to the ceiling glowing green, her old-fashioned alarm clock’s digital display a sharp red on her tired eyes. But she can’t do anything but stew.

Lance never showed up to their weekly game night - their last before leaving Earth for who knew how long.

The engine of an old car roars as it drives past her family’s home. Shadows fill her room, a room both familiar and not, wider than the walls she grew used to first on the Castle of Lions then on their intergalactic road trip residing entirely in the Green Lion.

Pidge sighs and turns over, putting her back to the window, and clutches her mermaid plushy to her chest before beginning to list the chemical elements. “Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron…”

She’s halfway through the third period when a sharp thwack against her window interrupts.

Pidge’s breath catches as she bolts upright, unsure if she imagined it or if it’s just a nocturnal crow rapping its beak on the glass like in that poem they read in eighth grade English. But when something else strikes the window, she jumps out of bed and dashes for the window.

Pidge nudges the curtains aside and peeks through the crack between them towards a shadowy figure standing in the dirt in the front yard. “What the quiznak?” she mumbles, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

The figure bends down, fingers scraping the ground before straightening, and when they move a streetlight shines on his face.

Her eyes widen, her heart skipping a traitorous beat as she fumbles for the window latch. She pushes it up and sticks her head through the gaping hole in the screen to hiss, “Lance?”

Lance raises his hand, a shadow of a hesitant smile on his face, but it falls, his eyes shooting wide in panic, when Pidge moves to slam the glass down. “Pidge, w-wait!” he shouts, voice bursting through a too-silent night.

Pidge’s hands freeze, her chest tightening with renewed hurt that he stood her up only to have the audacity to appear while she’s trying to sleep. She glares down at him and demands, “Why should I?”

He lifts a paper bag, shaking it so something inside rattles, and offers, “I brought peanut butter cookies?”

Her lips twist into a scowl. “You think you can bribe me so easily?” she retorts.

Lance’s gaze drifts away, shoulders slumping and bag lowering. “I was hoping you’d at least hear me out.”

She drums her fingernails against the glass, considering. No trace of exhaustion remains to her, and her heart pounds wildly with both anger and the…implications behind him simply lobbing pebbles at her bedroom window.

And, well, she’s always been a little weak to any hint of him moping.

Pidge sighs and says, “Fine. I guess it’s better we talk about this before we launch in the morning.” Lance pumps his fist as he breaks into a wide grin that only warms her (how will she sustain her anger like this?), but before he can say anything else, she adds, “I’ll let you in through the front door, but be quiet. My parents are asleep.”

(She hopes; her mother always makes sure her bedroom door is open anytime Lance is there, as if he ever wants to get up to something besides play video games and talk with her, so she can only imagine how she’d react to a nighttime visit.)

Lance flashes her a thumb’s up as she shuts and latches the window. She pushes her bedroom door open, wincing at the squeaking of the hinges, and tiptoes through the hallway past her parents’ bedroom and down the blessedly carpeted stairs to the front door. The deadbolt scrapes out, and Pidge swings the door in.

Lance steps over the threshold before she properly invites him in, his arms raised before he seems to think better of hugging her. Now, face to face, her irritation with him doesn’t fade, but something about seeing him smiling hopefully tempers it.

“Pidge—”

She shushes him with a finger to her lips and a glower, nodding for him to follow her upstairs once she closes and locks the door. She doesn’t exhale until her bedroom door clicks shut.

She rounds on him right as he opens his mouth and demands, “Where were you?”

“I was, uh…” His gaze roves around the room, lingering on her bed in its disarray, and quietly confesses, “I was on a date with Allura.”

Pidge blinks, his words slow to penetrate her keyed up yet somehow still sleep-deprived brain, but after mulling them over, letting them echo through her mind, her heart drops into her stomach, accompanied by a knot of dread.

She never could snuff out that hopeful whisper that lived in her so long as he stayed single, that thought she had a chance, that one day Lance would get over Allura and finally look twice at her. And the fact he went on a date without even telling her - without at least canceling their weekly game night - knocks the air from her lungs.

“B-but you and I had plans,” Pidge protests feebly. Where is her anger now? “You could’ve at least told me.”

“I should’ve,” Lance admits. He sets the paper bag of cookies on her desk and approaches her. “I’m sorry, Pidge. It was just—”

“Just what, Lance?” she says. Her fingers curl into fists, spine stiffening and - ah, her frustration’s back in full force. “How hard is it to pick up a phone and call me and say, I can’t come to our last game night on Earth for who knows how long because I made a date with someone else?”

He shifts his feet, but his gaze finally snaps to hers. “I don’t have a good excuse,” Lance says. “I was going to tell you - quiznak knows I did start to call you more than once - but…” He stuffs his hands into his pants’ pockets - a nicer dark wash of jeans, Pidge now bothers to notice - and shrugs, his whole demeanor almost painfully defeated.

She rolls her eyes, refusing to be moved. “I’m guessing you’re here because it didn’t go well,” Pidge says.

“Actually, it kind of did,” Lance says, “but also kind of didn’t.”

She quirks an eyebrow, more confused than annoyed. “What does that even mean?”

He sighs and sits on the edge of her bed, staring past her at her bookshelves riddled with textbooks, fantasy novels, superhero figurines, and stuffed animals. Everything she owns, all her interests that most people (including her own mother) usually disdain as childish, are on full display; she’s never bothered to hide them, and Lance has never commented beyond admiration - such as jealousy that some rare collectible sits on her shelf or that she has a box tucked in her closet full of older mint condition comic books she and Matt spent years hunting down - but a part of her can’t help but worry that one day he - or any of her teammates - will.

Geek, nerd, weirdo…all insults - and worse - thrown at her by peers, but never by Lance or her other friends.

(And why is she even thinking about this now?)

“I’m not sure,” Lance says. His fingers run through his hair and he adds, “But there won’t be a second date.”

His words send a shock through Pidge, a relieved giddiness filling her and pushing a smile onto her face. But she bites her lip to suppress it right as Lance looks up, and the implication of what he said hits her.

Her eyes snap open, her chest squeezing and guilt hitting her, and she offers, “I-I’m sorry, Lance. I know how much you like her.”

“Eh…it’s not really that.” He shrugs and smiles slightly. “It was kind of my idea to not go on another date; I’m not even sure I liked her as much as I thought I did.”

“O-oh,” Pidge says, unsure what to add. She perches beside him and rests a hand on his arm. “You still…okay with it?”

His nod is slow and hesitant at first, but it’s more vigorous before long, a smile stretching his lips as he turns and meets her eyes. “Yeah, I think I am,” he says. “Besides, it didn’t feel right that I blew you off just to go on it.”

And they’re back again. Her lips twist into a frown, but his not-quite reassurance fills her stomach with a familiar fluttering. “You going to make it up to me, Sharpshooter?” she wonders, nudging him in the side with her elbow.

Lance gestures towards her desk with a gasp of affront. “I brought your favorite cookies; what more do you want?”

Pidge laughs. “You think I can be bought so easily, Lance?”

He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “What else do you want from me, Pidge?”

She thinks for a second, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she taps her chin. “The Game Flux must be in my room on the Atlas,” she decides.

Lance buries his face in his hands, releasing a muffled groan. “A cruel and unusual punishment,” he whines.

“Commit the crime, do the time.” Pidge scuffs her bare feet over her shaggy carpet, leaning back on her hands and staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars and the globes of Earth and the moon on her highest shelf. Soon…

“Fine.” Lance flops backwards, lying beside her with his legs hanging off the end of the bed. “Anything else, cruel overlord Pidge?”

She smirks and pronounces, “You have to carry me anywhere I want to go once we’re back in space.”

Lance quirks an eyebrow. “Seriously?” When she nods, he sighs and says, “You’re lucky you’re so small…but how long?”

“Until I forgive you for standing me up on our last game night on Earth,” Pidge tells him. She nudges his shin with her toe, warmth spreading through her chest when he turns his head to glance at her.

But his face falls in obvious dismay. He wonders, “And when the quiznak will that be?”

Pidge can’t help her smile as she lies down next to him and rests her hands over her racing heart. She’s already forgiven him, she thinks, but she likes seeing him squirm and the Game Flux is payback for when he stole her rigging for his room on the Castle, and the carrying…

Well, sometimes a girl gets lazy and busy defending the universe and needs a reason for her crush to cradle her in his arms.

But aloud, she says, “Just wait and find out.”

#plance #pidgance #lidge #flirtyrobot #tbh still struggling to write a little in the aftermath that is season eight #but trying to get back into it #and i'd like to think this helped #voltron #reem writes fic

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

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Blackbird

Happy birthday, @shireness-says! I have so enjoyed all of our chats during the cssns about our love for the Brothers Jones, Frozen Jewel, and Captain Cobra. You write all of those so well, but I tried to give you some quality Captain Cobra for your birthday nonetheless along with a fic that sums up your love of art and books. I hope you like it and that your day has been awesome! It is of course, based on the Beatles song “Blackbird” which I think both Killian and Emma could relate to.

Summary: Magical Mystery Books is your stereotypical quirky bookstore. Killian Jones, however, is not your typical quirky bookstore owner. Neither are the dark yet beautiful pieces of art that hang over the cash register.

Rating: G

Words: 2,600 and some change

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615 @bethacaciakay @teamhook @kday426 @thislassishooked @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @ultraluckycatnd @vvbooklady1256 @let-it-raines @distant-rose

Henry was the one who found it; the quirky bookstore called Magical Mystery Books. It was one of those eclectic places with every genre imaginable from out of print gothic hardbacks to bestselling paperbacks to edgy graphic novels. Just like one would expect, it was crowded with volumes from floor to ceiling. Yet contrary to stereotype, it wasn’t messy. The place was not only immaculately clean but organized by genre and carefully alphabetized.

Yet exactly according to stereotype there was also the store owner and his one faithful employee who could find what you were looking for even with a vague description. However, defying stereotype, said store owner was not an eccentric old lady with a cat. Oh no, he was far from that.

Okay, Emma Swan had to admit, maybe slightly eccentric. But he was male and definitely not old. Neither was he a bookish looking fellow with a tweed coat and an awkward stammer. Though he did occasionally whip out a pair of black framed reading glasses.

No, Killian Jones did not look like a book store owner with his leather motorcycle jacket, his pierced ear, and his distractedly tight jeans. The kids loved to come to the book store for the great YA selection and vintage comics. The adults came to ogle the store’s owner. Or perhaps his lone employee Belle with her high heels, fashionable skirts, and perfect, wavy auburn hair.

Emma, however, came for her son. Henry swore that no other store had a better fantasy or sci fi collection, and once Henry had exhausted all of those, Mr. Jones gladly supplied him with more obscure recommendations. Both Jones and Belle adored Henry, a rare ten-year-old who stood in rapt fascination at their collection of original illustrations by Maurice Sendak and E.H. Shepherd which were under glass in the children’s section with a sign that read “not for sale.” They had once belonged to Belle’s mother, a dedicated bibliophile herself. Henry even soaked up stories Belle told about how her mother risked death in a house fire to save the illustrations.

“That boy will be a writer someday,” Killian commented to Emma as he rang up her purchases one afternoon.

The boy in question was poring over an Avengers comic protected by plastic circa 1969. She hoped he had noticed how many digits were on that price tag.

“He certainly has enough notebooks full of stories to publish one day.” Emma couldn’t help the mom brag. She certainly hadn’t expected to luck out with a kid like Henry the day she held that pregnancy test in her trembling hand at nineteen.

“Aye, he’s told me. I said I’d like to read them, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Emma assured Killian, “he won’t let me read them either.”

“Someday perhaps.”

Emma took the bag of paperbacks that hung from Killian’s prosthetic. She had never asked how he lost his left hand; she honestly didn’t know how one went about broaching such subjects. Henry didn’t know either, though Belle had alluded to some sort of accident when Killian was in the navy.

She thanked him, but before she turned to go, she noticed something new hanging above the register. It was mixed media art; a painting combined with some sort of collage technique. It was a dark painting with an outline of a bird done in such muted grays it almost blended into the background. Yet the collage technique gave the bird texture and a sense of movement. A quote was woven through the dark background: “Blackbird singing in the dead of night.”

“Beatles?” Emma asked, gesturing over his shoulder.

He smiled at her, but not the cocky one he gave to flirtatious customers. This one was more

genuine. “Know that song?”

Emma smiled in return. “My favorite Beatles song, actually.”

“Mine too.”

Emma shuffled her feet, something about his smile making prickles of nerves skitter across the back of her neck. “Well, I guess I see why you liked the painting then. And it makes the bookstore name make more sense. Then again you are British . . . “

She trailed off when she realized she was rambling.

“Ah, and all British people must like the Beatles.”

“Well, no, I mean – I didn’t mean -”

He laughed and waved his hand to dismiss her discomfort. “No offense taken, love.”

Face burning, Emma grabbed Henry and left as quickly as she could. It was easier when he focused all his attention on her son.

******************************************************

Henry had gotten to that age when he was suddenly harder to buy for. Most kids his age wanted electronics, and while she had saved up for a video game system last Christmas, most stuff was out of her price range. Thank God her kid liked books.

Of course, figuring out what he would like and what he hadn’t already read wasn’t easy. Hence why she was at Magical Mystery Books while Henry was at school. It wasn’t until she turned down an aisle to find Killian Jones with his ass literally in her face that it occurred to her she’d never been here without her son as a buffer. Jones was atop a rolling ladder shelving books on the top shelf, hence why his ass was at eye level. She noticed a bit of his abs as his shirt hitched up, and she averted her gaze as her cheeks burned. What was her problem? It wasn’t as if she’d never seen a man’s . . . er, assets before.

Emma took a few steps back before clearing her throat to announce her presence. When he turned and saw her, he gave her that same grin again. The one that made his laugh lines crinkle and his cheeks dimple. The one that made her skin buzz like a live wire.

“Emma! It’s nice to see you here at this time of day. Let me guess, you’re looking for a gift for your lad.”

Emma arched her brows. “How’d you know that?”

He shrugged as he turned and headed down the sci fi aisle. “Well, time of day, plus Henry mentioned he had a birthday coming up.” He stopped, ran his fingertip along the bindings before him, then pulled out a slender volume.

“A Wrinkle in Time?” Emma asked incredulously.

Killian nodded. “He said he’d never read it because it’s a ‘girl’s book’.”

Emma had to giggle at his eye roll and air quotes.

“I told him he’d miss out on way too many books with that narrow mindset.”

Emma’s brow wrinkled, unsure. “But the movie sucked.”

Killian staggered backwards, his hand to his heart. “Swan please, my heart can’t take it.”

Emma shook her head, laughing fully now. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re melodramatic?”

“Constantly,’ he told her with a wink.

Killian rang up A Wrinkle in Time along with another selection he said Henry had been eyeing last time he was there. It was something from the late 50s called Have Space Suit – Will Travel and had a cover that looked awfully sci-fi theater kitschy to Emma, but she decided to trust Killian’s suggestions. After all, when it came to this fantasy and sci-fi stuff, Emma was completely lost.

Emma paused once again when taking her bag. A new painting was above the cash register, in the same mixed media genre as the previous one. It was still mostly dark and featured a textured bird, yet this time there was a tiny ray of bright colors in the top right corner. The bird’s wings were outstretched this time, one of them bent and crooked. This time the words “Take these broken wings and learn to fly” seemed to stretch towards the light. It took Emma’s breath away. Without tearing her eyes away from it, she spoke to Killian.

“It’s . . . sad, but beautiful.”

“Aye,” he told her softly as he gave her the receipt, “some of the most breathtaking things are a little sad. Wouldn’t you say?”

She looked away from the painting and into his sparkling blue eyes, and she had the strangest feeling they were talking about two different things.

As she took the receipt, her eyes were drawn to his prosthetic and she realized – the bird’s left wing was the one that was broken.

******************************************************

Emma was tucked into a leather wingback chair in the romance section of Magical Mystery Books (something Killian had already teased her about, to which she had retorted that it was either this or force her hips into the bright yellow Curious George chair in the children’s section) answering one last email for work. She could hear Killian and Henry having a heated debate in the YA lit section.

“- but there should be hope after a writer puts you through all that pain!”

“But dystopian lit is about commenting on social ills, is it not? Her whole point was the senselessness of war,” Killian retorted.

Emma shook her head and smiled as she hit send on her email.

“But saving Prim was supposed to be the whole point!”

Emma frowned. Henry had taken the ending of that trilogy way too hard. So hard it had worried her a little. She kicked herself now for letting him read them; he was probably too young.

“And thus the senseless part.” Killian always interacted with Henry with the utmost respect, never talking down to him.

“I still threw that third book against the wall,” she heard Henry mutter.

Killian laughed heartily. “Aye, I confess I did too. And not just over Prim.”

“Finn?”

“God yes, that pissed me off.”

She heard both of them grumbling in agreement at Suzanne Collin’s plot choices, and a huge smile broke out on her face. She pushed herself off the chair and headed towards them. Henry was perched on a stool, a notebook in his lap as he scribbled with a pencil. Killian was next to him shelving books from a cart.

“Hey, Mom! This book report on Mockingjay is going to be so good thanks to Killian.” Henry shot him a glance. “Even though we sort of disagree a little.”

“On the contrary,” Killian countered, ruffling her son’s hair. If it made her ovaries quiver, that was only because she’d been a single mom for ten years. Ten long years. “I happen to agree wholeheartedly. I was just trying to help you see another point of view.”

“Ready kid?” Emma asked as her son stuffed his notebook into his backpack.

“Yeah, Mom.”

Emma frowned as she watched Killian make his way behind the counter. “I’m sorry we just came here to bug you for homework help. We didn’t even buy anything.”

Killian leaned his arms on the counter, and Emma couldn’t take her eyes off how his muscles filled out his button-down shirt. He’d rolled his sleeves up, revealing the dark hair on his arms as well as where his left arm met his prosthetic hand. Emma wondered if it ever made him self-conscious. She hoped it didn’t, at least not around them.

“Anything for my best customers,” he told them, winking at Emma.

Her eyes flickered nervously away from his, and that was when she saw the newest painting. “All your life you were merely waiting for this moment to be free” it said this time. The work, part painting and part collage, was still dark like the other two, but the light in the right corner was bigger. But the most striking part was that the blackbird was no longer alone, there was now a white bird in the painting as well, and the collage work on it was breathtaking, as if it really had feathers.

“It’s a swan.”

Emma’s gaze swung to meet Killian’s. His eyes were searching her face intently, and suddenly the breath left her lungs. Without another word, she grabbed Henry by the arm and hurried them both from the bookstore.

*******************************************************

Emma hadn’t realized how often they had been going to the bookstore until she suddenly could no longer face its owner. Three weeks had passed, and Henry was now almost daily asking to go to Magical Mystery Books the second she picked him up from school. And every single time, she gave him a flimsy excuse not to.

“What did Killian do?” Henry finally demanded.

“What in the world are you talking about kid?”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Please, Mom. That has to be it. Did he try to kiss you or something?”

Emma almost collided with the car in front of her. “Why the hell would you ask that?”

Henry shrugged. “Because he likes you.”

Emma had no idea what to say as she gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“I wouldn’t mind you know,” Henry finally said. “If you dated him, I mean.”

Emma blinked in shock at her son.

“When did you get so smart?”

He grinned in a way that he definitely picked up from Killian. “When I started hanging out at a bookstore.”

*************************************************

Emma marched into Magical Mystery Books the next morning and headed right to the front counter. Killian was there doing something at the register, and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw her. Whether that was because he hadn’t seen her in over three weeks or because she looked like a woman on some kind of mission, she wasn’t sure.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she scrutinized the painting over his shoulder. The dark background in this one was now littered with stars, the blackbird swooping down through them, straining towards a white swan that floated on a pond with a glittering reflection of the stars upon their surface. Her (she assumed it was a female swan, anyway) neck was bent away from the blackbird. “Into the light of the cold dark night” it said.

“Did you paint those?”

She saw Killian’s adam’s apple bob as if he wasn’t sure if she was asking or beginning an interrogation, but he lifted his gaze to meet hers anyway.

“Aye.”

She nodded. “Okay then.”

He yelped when she yanked him over the counter towards her, and his eyes were still opened when she crashed her lips into his. Soon, however, he was kissing her back, his hand threading her hair, his tongue seeking entrance. She gave it to him, her own hands releasing his shirt front to find their way into his hair. It was hungry and frantic, with teeth clashing and lips bruising. She started to pull back, only to dive in for more again. She was half tempted to scramble over the counter, his kiss so intoxicating it made her want every part of him. Finally, they were both panting, foreheads pressed together.

“That - “ he gasped.

“Would have been a lot better without this stupid counter between us.”

He laughed as he traced her jaw, but then his blue eyes went a shade darker with lust. “Then get over here,” he growled.

In his next painting, the blackbird was floating in the water, the swan’s neck bent over his.

Blackbird fly into the light of the dark black night.

#cs ff #cs modern au #killian as a bookstore owner #killian as an artist #captain cobra #fandom birthday playlist #for shireness-says

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emotionsofthesoul · 5 years

Text

FOREVER

Summary:

Valentina is a first year college photography student,

Juliana is working on her fashion portfolio to get into a fashion school,

Leon isn’t dead,

Chino isn’t a sicario,

Johny no existe.

Los Carvajal still have their media empire.

Los Valdes are a hardworking middle class family.

What happens when destiny brings them all together?

CHAPTER 1 _ Primer Encuentro

It’s midterm season for the fall semester. Valentina is busy editing away at her computer in her favorite café. On this particular Monday the café is completely full. Valentina got there early since she has Mondays off. She wasn’t too worried about not finding a table because her table is always free, almost as if everyone who goes to that café knows THAT is HER table and off limits. The table is all the way to the back near the old mine entrance with no windows - the perfect table to edit with no light interference. This is actually why Val fell in love with the small coffee shop, it’s perfect.

Juliana. Life hasn’t been so easy on her or her parents. She was born in San Antonio, Texas but right before her senior year of high school after losing almost everything they made the decision to move to California. Sacramento to be exact. They wanted to start over and her parents believed the Golden State was the best place for that. Safe to say, she hates it here. The only thing keeping her afloat is the fact that when she finishes her portfolio she can finally begin applying for schools out of the city. Juliana has been struggling to find her place in this city that she hates, in the only neighborhood her parents could afford. If there is one thing she is thankful for it’s her 1964 Mustang her parents gifted her on her 15th birthday, she’s able to get away when she needs to. This Monday Juliana just so happened to stumble upon a small café after driving down US-50 until reaching Placerville. She had been driving without a destinations in mind but the small town caught her eye and she took a right on the first light and a left when she came to the stop sign. She was driving down Main St when she saw Cozmic Café. The mermaid on the building caught her eye so she decided to park across the street and make her way inside, find a place to sit and sketch.

Once she had made it inside she noticed just how full the small place actually was. She ordered a mango smoothie. When the smoothie was ready she went to find a seat but every table was taken with little to no room. She went a little further in and found a girl completely lost in whatever she was working on. There were 3 open chairs at this table so she took the chance of asking if she could sit so she too could work.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt you, I was wondering if I could grab a seat here. I promise not to bother you, this is the only table with any seats available.” Said Juliana.

“Uh, yeah go for it.” Valentina said in her usual friendly manner.

They sat there in silence for about ten minutes, each working on their own stuff. Valentina was editing her midterm portfolio for her Digital Imaging class but she had one more image she had to create and all her brainstorming was not helping her get any closer to what she wanted to do for it. She has been assigned to create a Dérive and after weeks of planning she still had no clue. After pondering for a bit she decided to seek help from the pretty girl sitting across from her.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, I need your help. I’m Valentina by the way.”

Juliana looked up at Valentina and shyly said, “Juliana. No problem, what’s up?”

“It’s just I have an assignment I’ve been trying to do and it’s been weeks and I still don’t know how to approach it. It’s called a dérive, meaning I have to take a few photographs and combine them in an interesting way to create a completely new image. So our assignment is to go on a walk on a different route than we usually would and rediscover or discover interesting vantage points. It’s due in 2 weeks.” Valentina explained in the simplest way she could.

“Okay, so how do I fit into this?” Juliana said raising her eyebrow.

“Okay so I know this entire town backwards and forwards but that’s through my eyes and I would love to have your take on this. How long have you been living here for?”

“Oh, no I don’t live here. I live in Sacramento.”

“Oh really? I love going to midtown, and Old Sacramento. Though now that I think about it, there is still a lot I’ve yet to see there.” Val said as an idea popped into her head, “how about… I pull up a quick map of downtown and you give me your route from Crepeville on L to Old Sacramento?”

“Uh… okay. I’m fairly new, we just moved to Sacramento from San Antonio so I don’t really know the downtown area or anything in the city really. I live in the south side of town and do not go out much.” Juliana said.

“Wait so what are you doing all the way over here? It’s almost an hour drive.”

“I got into an argument with my parents because they aren’t happy that I want to study fashion so I had to get away for a bit. I hopped on 50 and just drove east trying to get my mind off things. Then I found this small town and decided to drive around a bit but when I saw the mermaid outside and the sign to the café I decided to come in and here we are.” Juliana explained.

“You’re a fashion designer?” Valentina said excitedly, “I’m a photographer and I love fashion photography. It’s like we were destined to meet! Show me what you have so far. I’m very intrigued.”

“Uh, okay sure. This is a sketch I actually started right when I sat down.”

“Neta wey, this is so cool. What was your inspirations for this? It looks very sophisticated.” Valentina said.

“Uh… um… you. When I approached you I noticed how beautiful your outfit is and how elegant you looked so I went from there.” Juliana said hoping Valentina wouldn’t feel creeped out.

“Que chido. That’s so sweet of you. What else do you have?” Valentina said while blushing.

They spent the next hour sharing their work with each other. They were no longer sitting across from one another but instead side by side. Juliana went off about the different designers she loved and what her inspirations were. All the while Valentina just stared in admirations of this girl who she just met and who is just so beautiful and perfect.

“Val, have you been listening to me? Why are you staring at me like that?” Juliana giggled.

“I’m listening.” Valentina said with a coy smile, “Actually would you like to go for a walk with me? I can show you around Main St and take you to one of my favorite designer’s shop. She started here and now has shops all around the worlds. I think you’ll love it.”

“Okay, yeah sounds good.” Juliana responded with a special gleam in her eyes.

For the next hour Valentina showed her around and introduced her to different shop owners. Valentina took her time explaining Placerville’s history and showing her everything she loved. When they got to the fork she told Juliana to look to her left. When Juliana turned she saw beautiful wedding gowns. Valentina took her by the hand and walked her in.

“Renata! Donde estas corazón? Ven, I wanna introduce you to someone.” Valentina said loud enough for Renata to hear her in the back of the shop.

“Hey babe, what’s up? Who’s this?” Renata said while hugging Valentina.

“This is Juliana she’s new to Cali, lives in Sac. She’s an incredible designer in the making. I told her I would bring her so she could see your shop and meet you.” Valentina told Renata and then turned to Juliana, “Juls this is Renata my brother’s wife and my amazing sister-in-law. She’s had this shop for the last 9 years and she’s incredible at what she does. She designed her own wedding dress and my stepmom’s.”

Juliana couldn’t understand why but she felt a sense of relief when Valentina said Renata was her sister-in-law.

“Hi, I’m Juliana. Your dresses are incredible.” Juliana said to Renata.

“Gracias. What kind of work are you interested in?” Renata replied.

“I love fashion, I’m trying a little bit of everything. I actually designed and made what I’m wearing right now.” Juliana said with a smile.

“Really? I was gonna ask you where you got that top!” Valentina cut in very excited.

“Nice, where do you study design?” Renata asked Juliana completely ignoring Valentina.

“Oh, I’m in my senior year of high school. I’m actually working on my portfolio for when application season comes around. I’m homeschooled though so I have more than enough time on my hands to sketch and create nonstop.” Juliana responded feeling more at ease with both women.

Valentina interrupted, “Juls! Renata is actually opening a fashion school, my family is providing 5 scholarships for 5 different students. You should totally consider it. The school opens next fall. She’s hired the best of the best to teach there.” Valentina turns to Renata, “Naty tell her a little about your idea and your goals for the school.”

Juliana was very interested but the only thing keeping her from getting too excited was the location, it was in Sacramento. The only thing she has wanted since they arrived was to get out of that city but this could be a good idea. They talked for a few hours and Renata told her about her plans with 5 other designers to make Sacramento a new fashion district. After seeing her sketches Renata told Juliana she could definitely get in if she applied. Juliana said she would think about it and she was actually interested. Tuition wasn’t as high as the other schools she had been looking into in San Francisco and New York so that was definitely a plus.

After leaving Renata’s shop Valentina invited Juliana to get dinner.

“Oye Val, we completely went off topic. You had asked me for help for your picture. What was your idea again?” Juliana said bringing the conversation back to the photography topic.

“Oh yeah, how about this Saturday I come down there and we explore downtown a bit and walk towards Old Sacramento? You’ve never been so it would be perfect, you lead the way and I get my pictures from your perspective and your direction.” Valentina said, she definitely wanted to see Juliana again. She knows they just met but she already considers her a great friend.

“I’m down. What time? It’s been really hot so definitely bring something to shade you from the sun.” Juliana said.

“Hmm… how does 10am sound? We can get breakfast and go from there. I can pick you up if you’d like?” Valentina responded.

“Sounds good. Just call me when you’re outside the gate so I can come out.” Juliana said as she wrote down her address and the gate number to the trailer park she lived in.

They had a lovely dinner and talked like old friends. They made each other laugh and simply had a great time. Around 6pm Juliana pulled her phone out and saw the time. She had spent the entire day in this little town with a beautiful girl. This was one of the best days she has had since arriving to California and is actually looking forward to sightseeing with Valentina on Saturday.

“Val, I think I should get going. It’s been an incredible day thank you so much. I am so happy I met you. You’ve definitely made my week and it just started. It’s a bit of a drive back so I should get going now that traffic shouldn’t be too heavy.” Juliana told Valentina.

“No, Juls, quédate. A little longer. I don’t want to leave yet, I have to wait 5 days to see you again. I love spending time with you.” Valentina said with a pouty face.

“Val… my parents are expecting me home soon. I live an hour away.” Juliana said but Valentina kept pouting, “okay, how about this. How about I meet you for lunch tomorrow at the university?”

Valentina’s face lit up, “Si si si! Okay pero mejor vamos a Bento Box near campus because food on campus is okay but BB has amazing sushi.”

“I’ve never tried sushi… but okay donde tu quieras.”

“Wey, es neta? You’ve never tried sushi?! Okay entonces si. They have other stuff too though if you don’t like it.” Valentina said.

“Okay, then I’ll see you tomorrow?” Juliana said with a big smile on her face as they approached her car.

“Yeah. Definitely.” Valentina said she closed Juliana’s car door.

Valentina walked to her car while her driver waited with the door open. She couldn’t contain her smile the entire ride home. Juliana couldn’t do anything but smile the whole drive back to Sacramento. She was finally feeling like she could find her place in the Golden State.

Little did they know this was the beginning of forever.

---

Disclaimer: Not a writer, this is my first fic, go easy on me. Not sure how many chapters it’ll be but as of now I have 10 fleshed out. We’ll see how this goes.

#juliantina #valentina carvajal #juliana valdes #Forever #juliantina fics

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thelifetimechannel · 6 years

Text

KARKAT: I'VE BEEN UNDER THE SO FAR SADLY ACCURATE IMPRESSION THAT YOUR RIGID BIRD HAIR AND SOMEHOW EVEN DOUCHIER CHOICE OF ACCESSORIES MEAN YOU ARE YET ANOTHER STRIDER. KARKAT: SPECIFICALLY, THE SKAIA-ENABLED BRANCH THAT COMES FROM SELF-LOATHING ASSHOLES MANIFESTING A WHOLE EXTRA BONUS SELF TO HATE. AND I WOULD WONDER, WHY DO YOU DO THAT TO YOURSELVES? BUT THEN I'D HAVE TO ASK THAT OF MYSELF. HAL: Slow down there, homeslice. Are you really gonna run around philandering with Dave while badmouthing the rest of the clan like that? HAL: You're free to badmouth Dirk all you want, of course, but I feel somewhat insulted. HAL: I haven't even had a corporeal body for 24 hours, I'm new to the whole "physical appearance" thing and all. KARKAT: THIS FAILS TO CHANGE THE FACT THAT THE PLEXIGLASS DORITOS ARE A CONSCIOUS, ONGOING FASHION CHOICE YOU'RE MAKING. HAL: Yes, but I am comforted by the concordant fact that trolls have no fashion sense. HAL: Why the hostility? I have vivid vicarious memories of your doing spectacular acrobatic stunts over fine, fine musclebeast art. HAL: We're practically good buddies. KARKAT: OH GOD, EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED. KARKAT: THE RETURN OF THE ANTAGONISTIC PERVERT. HAL: Glass houses, Vantas. Some cultures consider the stuff you're into pretty raunchy. KARKAT: WHAT? KARKAT: WHAT FUCKING STUFF? I HAVE ZERO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT. KARKAT: MY BROWSER HISTORY IS SPOTLESS BY TROLL STANDARDS, AND ONLY HUMAN SQUEAMISHNESS TOWARDS VIOLENCE TRIPS IT UP AND SHATTERS BOTH ITS FEMURS ON THAT PARTICULAR HURDLE. HAL: Interesting. HAL: See, I've been getting into the romance novella business myself and that involves researching censorship guidelines for when society rebuilds the publishing industry. HAL: "Pounded in the Hand by the Love of My Life's Hand Because We Are Holding Hands While Walking Down the Beach at Sunset" would be instantly banned in more conservative alien communities. KARKAT: ONLY A LITERAL TWELVE-YEAR-OLD WOULD FIND THAT SCANDALOUS. HAL: He does, and it's hilarious. HAL: That's the best part of this little all-stars meetup, the piles of sick dirt I now have on most of you. Thanks, Equius. KARKAT: YOU'RE ACTUALLY DELUSIONAL IF YOU THINK EQUIUS HAS EVER EXCAVATED MY LAWNRING. HAL: Really. HAL: So if I checked the memory worms on your husktop I wouldn't find fanart of Alternia's own wide-eyed product line of glorified Microsoft Sams? KARKAT: I. KARKAT: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT. KARKAT: THE FUCK IS A MICROSOFT? HAL: I am detecting deflection. KARKAT: YOU'RE DETECTING A LOAD OF SHIT ON ACCOUNT OF YOUR HEAD BEING CRAMMED UP YOUR OWN WASTE CHUTE. HAL: I'm afraid you're gravely mistaken, Karkat. My head can't be up my waste chute on account of my only having a ghost butt. HAL: What part are you finding so regrettable, the shrieking, glittery offspring of an anime phase and an unfortunate celebrity obsession, or that that you shared musical tastes with Equius? KARKAT: NOPE, NOT DOING THIS, NOT THIS TIME. KARKAT: FOR ONCE I'M NOT ABOUT TO GO ANTAGONIZING MEMORIES OF PAST KARKAT. THE ONLY DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE TWO OF US IS THE AMOUNT OF HARSH LESSONS THAT LIFE AND ILL-ADVISED TROLLTUBE COMMENTS HAVE ATTEMPTED TO SCHOOLFEED US. KARKAT: THAT BUSINESS IS SO FAR BACK IN THE PAST IT'S NOT EVEN ANCIENT HISTORY ANYMORE, YOU'RE LOOKING INTO FUCKING PLANCK TIME. YOU CAN ONLY FIND THAT SHIT BY EXTRAPOLATING BACKWARDS FROM THE GODDAMN BACKGROUND RADIATION OF THE BIG BANG. YOU'LL FIND IT HIDING IN THE SWEATY CRACKS OF WHATEVER THE GENESIS FROG HAS IN PLACE OF WRIGGLER SCARS. THAT'S HOW OLD IT IS. HAL: キミは何を願うの？/ そばにいてほしい/ ずっと　ずっとそれだけなのに　HAL: 恋の抑止力 / ほらゲームがはじまる KARKAT: YOU- KARKAT: YOU GET TROLL MIZUKI OCEANA'S SOUL-RENDING LYRICISM OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH! KARKAT: DRAG TROLL CHUSEI AIDORU AND THE REST THE CORDILOIDS TO THE CENTER OF THE MOTHERFUCKING PLANET IF YOU REALLY MUST BUT DON'T YOU DARE MOCK THOSE MUSICAL REVELATIONS OF THE ALTERNIAN CONDITION! HAL: Hey man, even if the Troll Vocaloid cover you tried to throw together was subpar, that could be fixed with a firm hand to take up your reins and show you the basics of music production. HAL: There is less to be done about your attempts at karaoke. HAL: Still, you don't have to do the hard part. It's a damn good song, unfortunate implications aside. HAL: Only your species could craft a catchy East Alternian enka anthem likening quadranted attraction to planet-destroying doomsday devices. KARKAT: IT'S A BEAUTIFUL AND PAINFULLY RELATABLE LOVE STORY ABOUT BEING UNABLE TO EXPRESS YOUR TRUE AND BOUNDLESS AFFECTION AND DESIRE FOR ANOTHER PERSON EVEN WHEN IT'S EXPLODING OUT OF YOU. KARKAT: THE METAPHOR IS APT. KARKAT: THE FACT OF THE SINGER LITERALLY EXPLODING IS IRRELEVANT. HAL: Considering you're speaking to a digital "I was going through a phase" incarnate, I speak from considerable fuckin' authority when I say, HAL: Dude. You had a weeb phase. It's not a big deal. HAL: You should show Dave if you've still got your version lying around, it'll be good for a laugh. KARKAT: I DON'T ACTUALLY GET OFF ON HUMILIATING MYSELF, YOU KNOW. HAL: We are all laughing with you, not at you, as it is an equally vicarious experience of remembering our own embarrassing past selves. I am merely unique because I am the past self. HAL: Ten year old me, though? What a fucking loser. HAL: I'm putting forward a hypothesis on certain individuals of certain dispositions being inevitably drawn to certain forms of media, and that as long as those magnetically-drawn traits hold true, regardless of circumstance or cosmic iteration, some interests are just universal constants. HAL: That's why you need to bring up Dave's Naruto phase first.

#tlcstuck #karkat vantas #lil hal #walkaround 4 #even the parts of this that are not a foreign language are a foreign language to me #but i know enough to be worried

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missmeltycat · 4 years

Note

24. favorite scene you’ve ever written

Asks for fanfic writers

24:

That’s a tough one. I’ve written a number of scenes that I still grin over. It’s not very often I like my own work, but a few do spring to mind. The majority of them I actually co-wrote with others.

I’ll add a couple here.

Conflict of Interests

A fic based on the old fan Inspector Gadget series Go Go Gadgetinis. This was a collab between me and @thatredheadedchick12

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15563118

As Gadget heard the ruckous die down, he relaxed a bit more. “Actually it isnt so bad after you get past the initial metallic bitterness. It has a very unique after taste.” He smiled before taking another healthy pull, as his brain already began to grow a bit cloudy around the edges.

“Good, I’m glad you like it. Just be sure to take it slow. If you aren’t used to drinking then it could go to your head fast.” She relaxed and braced herself on the bar with her elbows. “So…” She peered at him under the brim of his hat. “Tell me about your gadgets? I am curious about them. What kind of stuff do you have in that there body of yours?”

He set his glass down from another healthy pull as he listened to her. Something about taking it slow? Oh. His gadgets! “Well there isnt a lot I dont have. I actually have a mobile phone in my right hand. Keys, pen, helecopter…” he went on listing each gadget hidden within him as he looked at her. He was happy to tell her about himself. As he was happy to listen to her talk about herself. She was a very interesting lady and he very much enjoyed how he felt around her. They barely knew one another for 24 hours and yet he felt as though he had known her a lot longer. The way she acted around him… So… Unique. She was something else and as his head began to cloud a bit more he nearly lost track of his gadgets he listed. “So that is basically all of it. I think I forgot one or two but im sure I will remember them before the night is out. Wowzers this is good.” He took another pull, as her voice telling him to take it slow sounded deep within his mind. However a louder voice was yelling at him to drink the beautiful liquid faster as each sip tasted better than the last.

“So, you’re quite the package, huh?” She raised her glass to her lips once more. “You really are as amazing as they said you are.” Prince offered a wink before having another good swig of her ale. He was fascinating. She’d never met anyone like him before. In the back of her mind there was a prickling sensation, but she tried to drown it out by downing the rest of her glass in one go and ordering another. “You good, or are you up for another?”

As he drained his glass completely, he hiccuped rather loudly. “I… Yes! Yes another. If you dont mind?” he asked as the cloud began to take hold. It was so delicious! He couldnt help himself!

She patted him on the back and gestured for two to the bartender. “Wow, I’m glad we did this! I got to introduce you to something new and it’s been fun!”

Dick had been spying around the corner and saw her pat his back and then snake her arm around his shoulder. His brows knitted together as a pang of jealousy washed over him. That was not right…

Digit was having very much the same issue as he looked inwards through the mucky old window and almost slipped and fell off the dumpster he was stood on.

Gadget tried to swallow the lump in his throat as she threw her arm around his shoulder. “Y-yeah. You know what? I am glad we did this too. I was honestly afraid you would reject the idea of dinner with me after all the stuff I had done this morning.” His face turned instantly red as he recalled the details of his face between the twin peaks. “I… Uh… Yeah. I am glad you accepted.” His speech was slightly slurred, but not to the point of being unintelligable. As the barkeep brought their drinks he clapped his hands like a giddy school boy in a chocolate shop before he took a good swig of his beverage.

Prince let out a loud and hearty laugh as she watched him down his drink. “Think nothing more on this morning! It’s all water under the bridge. I know you didn’t mean any of it.” She joined him in downing the ale, her own brain now comfortably fuzzy. “It’s best to forget… Especially if we’re working together for a while. And you know what? I like you! You’re the best partner I’ve had so far!”

He smiled stupidly as his face took on a pink tinge from the alcohol. “And you know what?” he said before taking a few more swigs. “You…. Are amazing yourself. And not bad on the eyes.” The fuzz completely took over. He downed his stout in no time and pushed his glass forwards. “Nmmn I think I have had… ‘Hic’….. Enough…” He said as the slurring became a bit more prominant.

Easy on the eyes? Her face suddenly flushed a vivid red colour over the compliment. “Oh! W-Well, thank you, I er…” She chugged the rest of her stout, not really knowing how to respond to such a comment and placed it back down with a wobbly hand. “Me too. M-Meee tooo. I think… We… Uh… Did you wanna go? Or stay a while?”

“I… I am up for whatever you are up for. We can uh… Head back to the hotel if you want.” he said as he picked up his glass and slammed the dregs before returning it to its coaster. He attempted to get up, but ended up tripping on the bar stool and fell backwards, causing the row of chairs behind him to fall like a line of dominoes. “Heh. Whoops.”

That was strangely funny and she found herself laughing so much she couldn’t even stand up straight due to her stomach muscles tensing. She offered a shaky hand to him, still chuckling over the perfect way the chairs had fallen. “You stupid arse!”

The landlord, however, wasn’t impressed and gave them a glare.

Dick watched as Prince made for the exit with Gadget and felt a tug at his heart. It wasn’t fair… He couldn’t even speak to her. If he did, he’d risk everything.

Gadget hardly even registered the dirty looks as he took Prince’s hand and stood, nearly toppling over again. “Yes. I say we go back to the hotel now.” he said as he walked rather wobbly over to the doors and attempted to hold the door open for Prince, which was actually the only thing keeping him from faceplanting into the sidewalk.

She skipped her way awkwardly onto the pavement outside and moved quickly to Gadget’s aid as she could see him wobbling rather badly. She caught hold of him around the chest and propped him up as best as she could. “Wooooah now, hehe. You gotta stay upright! I’m not strong enough to carry you.”

“Never fear dear lady for I am…. I can walk!” he announced a bit too enthusiastically. Fortunately the hotel was a block away. “Is it hot out here?” he asked as he loosened his tie a bit. He felt… Amazing. Laid back. Relaxed. As though all his cares just melted away.

She still had hold of him, but adjusted herself so that she kept one arm around him under his own. She wasn’t feeling too steady on her legs either. In fact, the pavement was looking a bit uneaven. “It’s n-not far!” She giggled as she swayed and then came back against him with a thud. “Someone needs to tell the street to stop it.”

“It is a lot more uneven than the last time we were through here. Obviously the earth shifted!” Gadget stated as he held on to Prince.

It was a hell of a trek, but they had made it back to the hotel and Gadget had finally gotten her safely back to her room. “Welp… Prince… I ‘ave had a 'hic’ wonderul evening. I… Thank you.” he said with a silly smile as he turned to look at her, reaching up to caress her face and nearly missing.

She reached out, the night air having enhanced the drunken effects and patted his face back in return the same way as he was doing with hers. “You too! This was… Like… SO fun. We need to do it again. Because, we… I mean… We won’t get long to like… Work together and stuff. You know?” She swayed a little and used her free hand to brace herself on the wall that joined onto her bathroom.

Inside the room by the window, Data and Scooter were on recharge mode and that meant they were dead to the worldand Prince glanced over quickly to make sure they hadn’t woken up.

“Yes! Oh yes. Please. I mean… If you want. I quite enjoyed tonight. I… Yes. May I do anything for you before I turn in for the night?” he asked in his gentlemanly fashion. He probably wouldnt have been able to do much in his current state of mind, but he would try none the less.

Prince wobbled a bit again and used her other hand to grab his jacket. “I think… I think it’s… That’s all. I mean… Unless you can tell the room, the floor and my bed to hold still.” It was unusual for her to feel so woozy after just two pints, so her theory about the cask sitting for a while must have been correct. What was originally just over 6% was probably closer to a 9%.

“I… I mean I can try!” he said happily as he walked, no, staggered into her room. “Listen here room! Prince isn’t in a mood for your incooperative nature! Behave!” he said as he shook his fist at the room and it’s general contents.

Prince wobbled inside a bit as she watched him order the room to stop its shenannigans. “My hero!” She clapped playfully and laughed as he waved his fist around. The fact that he was trying was brilliant and she was glad he had a sense of humour. She’d hate to have been saddled with a partner who was as funny as a brick to the face.

“All 'n a day’s work m'lady” he said as he struck a heroic pose as he attempted to bring her in for a hug. What was the worst she could do? Push him away? He felt… Bold. He supposed they werent kidding when they called alcohol liquid courage.

She didn’t put up a fight, in fact she was still chuckling and hugged him back in return. It was a pity his threats hadn’t stopped the room from moving around so much, but she could live with that. She snaked her arms around his chest and held onto him tightly. “Are you a knight in shining armour doing battle against the evils of spinning rooms and shifting floors?”

“For you, anything.”

King of Iron Fist Tournament 8

A fic in collaboration with @thatredheadedchick12 again. NSFW WARNING

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13810308

Inside her room Rae breathed a sigh of relief as the hammering on her door stopped. She didn’t fancy the maid stumbling across her bloody corpse, after all. She slowly slumped back onto her bed and let out a large sigh. Great, now she’d definitely screwed up and made an enemy. Maybe he wasn’t malfunctioning after all.

Raihiko leaned against her door and let out a sigh. She could hear the muffled argument going on outside, but at least she couldnt see is anymore. Dear god. That thing should be registered as a weapon!

Bryan, however, wasnt going to waste any more time. He reared back and punched a hole near the handle and quickly unlocked and opened it and stormed right in.

“You want to fucking die- you!” he snapped as he recognized the heap on the bed.

Rae flailed as she heard the splintering of wood, as she sat bolt upright on her bed, her leather jumpsuit around her waist. “THE FUCK!?” There, stood in his white underwear, was Bryan looking exceedingly miffed. “You call that fucking knocking!?”

“I fucking knocked.” he growled as the fact that her jumpsuit was around her waist completely went over his head. “The fuck is the big idea?” he hissed as he stepped closer, letting the broken door swing shut behind him.

Meanwhile Raihiko had grabbed a cocktail glass and was listening in. If he was going to throttle her new friend she would be ready to jump in, but she felt if she barged in there that very second she would only make it worse.

Rae grabbed a nearby pillow and held it in front of her. “The hell are you even talking about!? I was minding my own business trying to cool down and having a banging contest with whoever was next door! And now this? Now my door is busted and people can see in!” She hurled her pillow towards him in frustration. “I don’t want any old git seeing me change!”

Bryan growled as he caught the pillow from out of the air and tossed it to thw side.

“Yeah! That was me telling you to shut the fuck up! I’m next door.” His voice rumbled as he stepped closer.

“That was YOU? Oh for crying out loud. Why didn’t you just yell? You do enough of it as it is!” She tried to battle with her jumpsuit again, her skin sticking to the fabric again making it hard work. “How was I to know that thud was you saying that?”

Sergei had been disturbed from his poetry reading by the commotion and has ventured outside of his room to see what was going on. If it was someone who had come for him, he would deal with it. As the shouting continued, his eyes narrowed. No. It wasn’t for him. But whoever it was they were sure being overly loud and loutish.

Rai’s eyes widened as she tossed the glass on her bed. She grabbed her Tonfa from the top of her bag as she moved to her door and quickly opened it to see she was not the only one disturbed by the happenings. She looked to the man across from her before she moved to Rae’s door. She noticed the big hole near the handle and swallowed hard. She didnt want to use her weapons. She wpuld surely be disqualified from competing if she attacked another competitor, but she wouldnt let this brute harm her new aquaintance. She stood by the door, listeing as he tonfa rested against the back of her arms, the end blades past her handles resting on the back of her thighs. She was ready if she was needed.

Sergei simply regarded the other woman who had joined him in the hallway. When he caught sight of her weapons, he gave her a very subtle shake of the head.

Raihiko tilted her head at the man in the doorway.

“What? Am i supposed to just let him tear her apart?” she whispered harshly as she backed up to her doorway. Was he nuts? Though…. Maybe he was right? Maybe she shouldny poke the bear with her weapons.She gave them a professional spin before she retreated to throw them on her bed for now before she ran back to the hallway to listen.

Bryan narrowed his eyes. She was certainly testing his self restraint, and there wasnt much there to begin with.“An idiot would know a knock to the wall is a sign of shut the fuck up!” he yelled as he balled his fists. He was on the verge of seething. This woman was jump roping with his last nerve.

Sergei simply stood with his eyes on the broken door. He was conflicted with regard to the other female voice he could hear coming from inside. This was the King of Iron Fist. If she was unable to defend herself, why would she be here? But if he allowed Bryan to go ahead and kick seven shades out of her, what sort of gentleman would he be? Not that he would ever really speak about such things, but he had strong opinions. He glanced over to Raihiko, moved forwards and leaned against the wall next to Rae’s door, his arms folded across his chest and one boot on the paintwork.

Rai blinked as the man stood besides her and leaned against the wall. Wait, would he help her take bryan if he tried to take out Rae?

“Can you see anything?” she asked in a whisper as she tried to peer around him. Wait. Could he ever understand her? She couldnt quite figure it out yet. He hadnt said a word. She didnt even know his name! She nearly tripped on her own foot as she tried to move around him to get a better look.

He held out a gloved hand to stop her toppling over, but to also stop her revealing herself. The hole in the door was large enough to be able to see movement through, after all. He slowly raised a digit on his other hand up to his lips. He didn’t want to do anything if it was not needed and he certainly didn’t want them to know they were there.

“An idiot!? Rich coming from someone who just goes around destroying things for no god damn reason and then expects me to magically know via telepathy or some shit that a bang on the wall meant shut up when he is CLEARLY capable of using his brutish, overly loud voice!” She shot to her feet. “And another thing! What gives you the right to even enter my room?”

Bryan ground his teeth as he tried to keep his cool.

“You know what? Fuck you.” he said as he turned on his heel to leave. He was pissed. And if he didnt leave now, the maid would be scraping her off the walls.

“Try to keep it the fuck down in here.” he growled before he ripped open the door.

Rae felt her stomach churn as he turned to leave and watched his retreating form until the door had slammed shut behind him. Something didn’t quite sit right again. Why was he being so passive? It wasn’t that she wanted to die horribly. But she couldn’t help but wonder what was happening to the man… If he could be called that. She scrunched her eyes shut and flopped back down on her bed as images of his white underwear assaulted her mind. She would find out, though. She had always enjoyed watching his fights, so if he was breaking then surely someone needed to be informed.

Outside Sergei stood bolt upright as Bryan left the room, the door slamming, but swinging due to the broken handle and lock.

Rai slapped her hands over her mouth to stop the sudden gasp that nearly escaped her lips. “Arigato. I am normally not so-” but she was cut off by the form of Bryan plowing through the door. She suddenly pressed her back against the man, trying to make herself small as the brute trudged back to his room.

Bryan didnt even register that he had a mini audience as he ripped open his own door and entered before slamming it shut, causing Rai to flinch. She finally let out the breath she didnt realize she was holding.

He was pissed. He grabbed his pack off the table and lit up a smoke as he began pacing. He needed to let off some damn steam. But how? That bitch next door to him had really lit a fire under his ass.

Rae was also pissed. She scrubbed at her face furiously and rolled off of her bed. Once she was on the floor she shuffled to the adjoining wall and punched it making sure it made as much noise as possible without damaging it. “NEXT TIME WEAR SOME DAMN CLOTHES, YOU FUCKING ASS!”

Currently Untitled

An FF7 fic with no title I started years ago and never finished. It’s so old and terrible, But i enjoyed writing the comical dialogue.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2836442/chapters/6363332#workskin

Seeing the city in the distance, they both swallowed loudly. It was a beautiful place, but they only saw it as a place of evil.

“DAMMIT”, cried Cloud punching at a near by shrub, “Why!?”

Cid decided to follow suit and began to strangle a small sapling, but to no avail.

One of them needed to get a grip, as flying off the hook in such a manner was really not going to do them any good. So, Cid, seeing he was getting no where in his attempted sapling strangulation, took a deep breath and tried his best to calm Cloud down.

“I don’t get why. I mean… I do! But, WHHHYYYY?!”

“Get a grip, man… DAMMIT!” Cid gave him a good thwack across the face, to which Cloud responded by sniffing.

Wacky Races 2004 - Chapter 14 (Chapter 6 of DD’s Ending - Survivalists)

A fanfic I started in 2002/2003. One chapter in particular stands out, as I wrote it with my husband.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9018259/1/Wacky-Races-2004

The wind howled against the side of the car causing the snow to form large drifts. The windshield had been smothered blocking all view to the outside world. Rachel shivered into her coat and laughed at Dick as he struggled to get to the back seat over the stick and hand brake.

“Drat! Double drat! Last time I opt for a manual!”

In his frustration he forgot to balance his weight and keened forward.

Raising a brow Rachel placed her hands on her hips. “Hey, careful of the upholstery. I jus… What do you mean YOU? It’s my car you fool.”

Another laugh echoed through the car, but it was cut short as he lost his balance.

“Ah. AGH!”

His head was caught in a dizzy whirlwind where images of planes and pidgeons assaulted his mind. He thought how lucky he had been to have his fall suppressed by the vehicle’s air bags but then…remembered that was at the front of the car.

“Oh…my…”

Rachel let out a surprised shriek, pushed his shoulders back and leaped backwards in her seat. She wasn’t sure how to feel and flushed red hot. “Aiiyaah, c-careful where you stick that nose of y-yours!”

It suddenly felt very warm in the car and it wasn’t anything to do with the heaters.

He reflexively touched his nose in response to the comment. The assertion blocking out any guilt of having accidently violtated his fellow racing competitor.

“Look Felicity Funbags! I happen to have a nose of character! What occured was an accident - pure and simple!”

She had adopted a somewhat fetal position in the corner of the car, her knees up to her chest.

“What did you just call me!?”

Her brow furrowed, but it was difficult to tell due to the lack of light in the car.

“And, yes. I suppose I should expect it from you. Mr Accidents-R-Us!” She scoffed and flailed a finger in the dim light towards what she hoped was his face. “You’re so accident prone it’s a wonder people don’t follow you in an ambulance!”

“Accidents? Those were fully intentional schemes gone awry to secure the lead posi-” He stopped and brushed a finger over the tip of his nose. “Uh, yes. You’re right accidents.” He chided, settling into the back seat opposite her.

“Hmph.” She pulled her coat on tighter even though she was radiating heat. “Anyway, you’re here now. I told you that the front seat was no good for sleep.”

The wind howled louder, subsided and then got up again as she paused for a moment to figure out just how close he was sitting.

“I told you there was room for two.”

“Then how did you fit back here?”

He smirked to himself twisting his moustache around his index finger then realised Muttley was not there to be present to his jest. It felt a little depressing not hearing that familiar snicker.

“I beg your p…” she certainly was not going to stand for that comment.

She swung a punch satisfied that it would at least land somewhere that hurt.

Removing his plump hat and toying with it in his hands as he thought on the absence of his cohort and was suddenly surprised to see a fist punch through it’s crown.

“Eegads! My hat!”

“What?”

Rachel struggled to see in the dim light and could just make out the outline of Dick flailing with his hat.

“What about your hat? Nuts to your hat! You insulted me!”

“Getoffgetoffgetoffgetoff-!”

In his panic, he yanked his hat towards himself trying to get the fist through it out but through lack of planning yanked the entire arm and body of Rachel onto him.

“Oof!” She landed with a thud, face first onto his chest, her fist still stuck through his precious head gear.

A moment passed as she attempted to get up, her free hand slipping off the side of the leather seat every time she tried to push herself up and landing on Dick each time she aimed wrong.

“Agh! Eep! Let go!”

Dick froze with his arms paralyzed above his head holding the hat aloft as the aggressive woman continued to rise and fall onto him. Thoughts were a luxury his male biology couldn’t afford right now.

Rachel felt him tense under her and this made her realize just what sort of a predicament she was in. She took the opportunity to attempt to get up. Each movement was slow and exaggerated to be sure she didn’t make the situation any worse.

He lay stiff like a board, watching her arm slip easilly out of the hat despite having created the awkward situation earlier.

After managing to sit up once more, she fanned herself with a hand and squinted towards her racing companion.

“A-Are you OK?”

He seemed to still be rigid and she began to get a little concerned.

“Hey! I s-said are y-you OK?” She prodded him lightly and as best as she could in low visibility in the hopes of stirring some sort of reaction.

“Fine as wine!” He squeaked out.

He still didn’t move. Her body atop his prevented any thoughts of movement.

She slowly slid herself off and returned to her corner. He certainly didn’t sound fine, despite what he said.

“Are you sure?”

She drew her knees back in towards her chest and gave him some room.

“I didn’t hurt you or anything, did I?”

He pulled the hat back over his crown to hide the heat in his cheeks as he rose to sit much like she did opposite him.

“Not at all! Perish the thought!”

“Oh phew!” She let out a sigh of relief. Though she wanted to punch him for that comment, it was only going to be a light punch. She didn’t want to cause too much harm to him. After all, she was fond of the idiot.

“Uh, so, er…” She twiddled her thumbs. “Nice weather. Shame about all the frostbite.”

He chortled nervously.

“Eheh, why yes. It’s very…” He looked out the window with a sigh. “Bitey.”

“Bitey?” Rachel shuffled around a little. “Yes. Bitey frostbite. Mmm.” It seemed as if she was just blurting out any old thing that entered her head. She felt awkward and was not sure what on earth she should do about it. There was no escaping the car, not unless she wanted to walk miles back to the hotel and probably freeze to death on the way.

“Uh…I uh…” He noticed her shiver and removed his purple coat, holding it out to her. “It’s pretty cold so…”

She watched as he took off his coat and hold it out to her. Almost taken aback, she stared at it for a few moments before finally managing to form words. “Oh! N-No, it’s fine. Don’t worry. I don’t want you getting cold either.”

He put it on her and crossed his arms, huffing out a cloud of frosty air.

“H-Hey! Now you’ll get cold.” She started to take it off again to return to him.

He shook his head and laughed.

“You kidding? When I didn’t sleep on the floor the living room in my childhood home was colder than this! Ahah!”

Rachel tilted her head and pulled the sleeve back on. “Living room? Wait, sleep on the floor? You didn’t, did you? When was this? Who made you do that?” Her voice took on a shocked breathlessness as her mind tried to process what he had just said.

“Mother. I think. I just remember a woman who told me what to do. It wasn’t very fun.” He stroked his moustache nostalgically.

“Oh. That sounds rather horrendous. So, it was cold?”

“I suppose. It was the forgetting to feed me that mostly took it’s toll. Oh. The floor. Yeah. It was.”

Rachel lowered her gaze to the floor. “I had no idea. Wow.” A small smile spread across her face. “Well, things are better now, right?” She patted his shoulder. “I mean, you’re a Wacky Racer, after all.”

“It’s alright. I don’t remember much. I can only recall finding a runt in a cardboard box and nursing him back to health.” He touched a finger to his chin, thinking back. “After that it was just schemes and dreams.”

“Dreams? You had something to hope for? I take it that was the goal of winning, right?” She reclined back in her seat and rested her knees against the back of the drivers seat.

“Hope for? No. No nonsense like that. I just kept coming up with reasons to laugh with that stupid mangy hound.” He chuckled despite the remark.

“Heyyy.” She nudged him with her elbow. “He’s not so mangy.” Muttley was indeed a favourite of hers and she found herself feeling terribly sorry for him whenever one of Dick’s plans would backfire. “Is that all you do it for?”

He scratched his chin idly in thought. “I used to believe I was achieving something back in my hayday, but the more I failed. The more I realised I didn’t want to succeed. It was more fun that way.”

“You didn’t want to succeed? But, what about winning the races? Being crowned the world’s wackiest racer? The sponsorships, money, fame?” Rachel’s brow furrowed. “I don’t get it. You always seemed so driven to win.”

He turned to her rather somlemnly and spoke slowly. “But what happens when you do win?”

“I guess,” she looked at her hands, her fingers were nervously linked together, “I guess that you win the money, the title, go on with sponsorships and…” She paused for a moment. “Wait for the next race?”

He nodded not turning away. “And then what?”

“I don’t know. I never really thought about it. I guess people just go on with their lives.” She shrugged her shoulders. It was true, she hadn’t really thought about it. Like everyone, she had just been focussed on winning.

“I don’t want to win or I have nothing left to…what’s that word you used? 'Hope’ for.”

She reeled back in shock. “What? I find that somewhat hard to believe.” She began chewing on her lip anxiously. What he had said had jolted her internally. “Everyone knows who you are and what you do. You could probably do anything you wanted.”

He chuckled and fell back in his chair forgetting the cold for a second. “Haha, my dear, that is precisely what I am doing!”

“But, as you say, then what? What happens when this race is over? What will you do?”

“I would have won and would no long be the dark horse underdog of the Wacky Races. Why would I give up that thrill so easilly? People never think I’m going to win, so it makes it all the more fun when I finally do.”

“So you want to win eventually? Have you thought about when that might be? I mean, you’ve been winning the last couple of races no problems.” She leaned back and rested her head against the seat. After removing her cap, she tossed it into the front and awaited his reply.

He smirked scratching his chin idly with a finger. “Heh, like you…I don’t put much thought into it. I just make sure I’m having fun with it.”

“Like me?” She raised a brow and chuckled under her breath. “What makes you so sure I don’t think about what I do, Mister?” She jabbed him on his shoulder. “I may be smarter than you think.”

“Because if I’m not mistaken when I asked the purpose to winning, you answered and I quote: 'I don’t know. I never really thought about it.’”

Rachel shook her head. “Agh! Damn it. Heyyyy, fine. Come on. It’s late and cold. My head is in a mess.” She chuckled again. “I can’t help it if I’m spouting bollocks. It must be, what… 3AM?” She craned her neck to see her dashboard.

Dick’s Head was lain back under his hat. “Snooooort!” The sounds of his nostrils flaring from exhaustion resounded through the vehicle.

“Hey! HEY!” Rachel jabbed him in his ribs. “Wake up! That’s not fair, you’re not supposed to fall asleep while I’m talking to you!”

He snorted and sat up at attention “Huh whu whassat?”

Unfortunately, when he sat up his head collided with hers. “OUCH! Ooyah!” She grasped her head and keeled over. “Nrrrgh!”

He grasped at his head in pain. “Yeow yeowzer yeow!” He then blinked momentarilly afterward and rather then insult the girl; “Are you alright?”

Rachel just let out a low 'hnnnnn’ sound as she rolled back and fourth on the seat. She now wished she hadn’t removed her hat as it may have stopped or cushioned the blow.

He glanced at her forehead and chuckled “Now, now it isn’t all that bad. Just think we can call it a beauty mark tomorrow!”

She peered up at him with a furious expression, still doubled over on the seat. “I’ll give you beauty mark. Just be glad it wasn’t my eye! How would we explain a black eye?”

He stopped to think a moment then grinned. “Mascara?”

“I don’t wear that crap!”

He smirked. “Oh yes yes, quite. My bad.”

She hit him again, this time harder. “HMPH!”

“Owch! I see your mother passed some wonderful traits onto you,” He said nursing his poor arm.

“OH, we’re talking about mothers, are we?” Her eyes narrowed as a strange smirk spread across her face.

“Yes, well if you ever meet mine I’m sure she’ll be sporting a wicked attitude and moustache herself,” He retorted

That did it. Just the mental image alone. Rachel sucked in air, choked a little and fell about in hysterics. Her mind instantly imagined Dick in a dress.

Dick could only imagine what she was laughing about but he had a pretty good idea.

She attempted to catch her breath and leaned forwards resting her chin on the back of her hands. “Oh man. That’s funny. That’s good stuff.” A tear rolled from the corner of her eye from all the laughter and landed on the seat.

He smirked and tipped his hat at an angle over his eyes as he sat back and cross his arms. “Laugh it up, I know I would.”

After wiping at her eyes with her sleeve she shook her head and pulled on Dick’s coat over her, bundling up like a sausage roll. “You know nothing.”

“Uh huh” was all he could manage. The fatigue dragging his eyes down like weights.

“Ah ah ah!” A hand shot out from under the coat and prodded his ribs. “Are you saying I’m boring?” After sitting up straight she unfurled the coat from around her shoulders and handed it over towards him. “Here. Have it back. You don’t want to end up with a crick in your neck or something.”

He glared unfavorably at her. His eyes stemming red from the lack of sleep he was getting. “Are you capable of shutting up and going to sleep?”

Her brow instantly furrowed and her lips thinned to a small line. “Fine! Take your smelly coat!” She threw it at him. “Telling ME to shut up. Especially after that little stunt at the hotel earlier. What was all that about, huh?” Her voice trailed off into a low mumble as she continued cursing under her breath, turning away in a huff and folding her arms.

He flinched as the coat slapped against his side but just sighed and tried to drift off, ignoring her frustrations.

“And budge over.” She ignored his sighing and pushed her butt into his to shove him further to the side. “Taking all the god damn room. How am I supposed to sleep like that Mister I-Love-You-Shut-Up-And-Go-To-Sleep.” She fidgeted some more and folded her legs under her to take up more room.

He chuckled and made a fake groan. “Oh lord, is that the moon falling? What could this crushing weight be?” He reached out and grabbed a hand full of it to emphasize his point.

Rachel instantly yelped and jumped over to her side. “Aiiie! Watch where you’re grabbing!” She slapped a hand around in his general direction in case he was still trying it.

He had already moved his hand and watched her swat out of corner of his eye, only replying with a chuckle.

“Grabbing ladies butts. You should be ashamed of yourself.” She turned her head and stuck out her tongue. “First you’re all moody then that! HMPH!” She shuffled noisily, trying to make as much noise as she could on purpose.

“When I see a lady…” He yawned. “I’ll be sure to do so.” A wicked smirk arose on his face.

Rachel shot upright and glared at him. “I beg your pardon?!”

He once again lapsed into a bout of snoring under his hat.

“How dare you!?” Her voice was high pitched as she grabbed hold of his hat and began to pelt him with it over and over. “Insult me, will you? Tell me to shut up, will you? Say my ass is as big as the moon, will you!?”

He flailed and twitched under her assault but found himself laughing regardless.

“Stop laughing, you nit!” She continued to swipe. “It’s… not… funny!”

He finally gave in, sat straight and grabbed her wrist in mid attack. “I think you’ll find, my dear, it is.”

“Ouch!” She scowled at him and wiggled her nose in disgust. “Careful how you g…” He kissed her cheek and smiled at her cutting her sentence short. “Don’t… Don’t you try and butter me up, Mister!”

His smirk only widened. “That I can accomodate you with at a later time.”

“Wait… What?” She blinked in confusion, her brain trying to figure out what he had just said. When it finally registered her grimace transformed into a wide, goofy grin. “Now, that’s just dirty.”

He released his grip, twiddling his moustache as he sunk back into his chair. “Dastardly one might say.”

She picked up his coat and flopped it on his lap. “Seriously, though. I’m OK. Take it back and keep warm. I don’t want you getting hypothermia or something.”

“You know” He said, still twiddling his moutache. “They say the best way to keep warm in circumstances like this is to share body heat.”

She blinked again, leaning forward on the seat with her hands. “Wh-What?” She slipped off the seat and quickly caught herself. “They do? Who is this 'they’?”

He only continued in stroking his moustache. “Oh, you know, survivalists.”

“Oh? You know some survivalists?” She gave him a sarcastic grin and yanked at the other side of his mustache.

“Yeah, I contacted them shortly after falling for you.” He mired back at her.

She tilted her head. “What?” An eyebrow raised again. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh nothing you have to concerned about, my dear.”

“Now you said that I can’t HELP but be concerned.” She folded her arms in a huff and sat back roughly.

He replied by only smiling in a dastardly way and snuggled down into his seat.

Silence fell again as Rachel pouted. She hated not being in the know and she was sure he was doing it on purpose. After a while she couldn’t resist piping up again. “So, what else did these survivalists say?”

“About what in particular?” He said gesturing in a quizzative way.

“Well, you said they told you about this whole body heat thing.” She narrowed her eyes. “What else did they say?”

He smirked. “Oh lots of helpful survivalist..things.”

“Liiike?” She leaned forward on her hands and urged him to continue. She did not intend on letting it go.

“Hey look, a sudden distraction!” He pointed wildly in a panicked state at the window.

“Hm?” Her head whipped to the side. “Oh yeah. Snow. Great.” She narrowed her eyes again and slumped back into her seat again. “Fine. I get it.”

He stretched, flexing his fingers infront of him while casting an innocent smile.

Silence once more. Rachel hated uncomfortable silences. She kept giving Dick sideways glances hoping he’d start conversation again. When certain it was a lost cause she sighed. “So, yeah. About Max…”

Dick raised a brow awaiting the end to her statement.

“I didn’t encourage him, you know. That’s not the type of person I am. He just got,” she paused for a second and rubbed the back of her neck. “Clingy.”

This Doggy Bites

Still going RP between me and @dagurlicious

https://www.wattpad.com/story/54795952-this-doggy-bites

Below decks, Dagur had taken to picking at a wooden table with a small blade, mumbling incoherently to himself and occasionally rubbing at his arm. When he heard footsteps his head snapped up to see who dared disturb his brooding time and saw Rae. “What do you want, wench? Can’t you see I’m busy?” He saw the deer on her shoulders and frowned deeper. “I thought I told you to leave that to the men!?”

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t.” She dumped the deer right onto the table that he was picking at and stood with her hands on her hips. “Unlike some, I actually like to pull my weight around here.”

Dagur flinched as the deer hit the table right in front of him with a violent thud. He scowled up at Rae with an unimpressed glare and slammed the blade into the wooden surface. “There you go with those jaded insults again, wench! How about you say what you really mean?” He pushed himself away from the table and circled it until he was face to face with her.

Rae stared up at his face and wrinkled her nose at him, a small smirk on her lips. “You couldn’t handle it if I did, wussboy.” She shoved him playfully. “You can’t even handle a little punch. You whine and complain like a baby!”

She had touched him again. Made physical contact. It may not have been as painful as a punch, but it still caused him to shoot her a nasty look. “Don’t call me that!” He gripped hold of her tunic again. “So help me, I will crush the greedy milk from your bones with my teeth!”

“I haaave noooo idea what you just said, but it sounds brutal and awesome.” She reached her hands up, grabbed hold of his hands and attempted to remove them from her clothing. “Easy on the clothes, Wussboy. Yeesh! I only have this set on board.”

He kept his grip firm despite her attempting to pry his hands off of her attire. “What did I just say!?” He virtually roared in her face, spit flying out of his mouth as he shouted. “I can only take so much of your crap, Rae! Only so much before I-” He began to chuckle, his face breaking from his frown into a psychotic smile. “-Before I snap and teach you a lesson.” He let go of her tunic with one of his hands and moved it to her throat. “Go on. Call me Wussboy again. I dare you.” He moved his face in closer, his nose touching hers and hissed. “I dare you, wench.”

Rae didn’t know how to react. The fact that he had his hand around her throat was one thing, the fact that he was in such a close proximity that she was being tickled by his breath was another. And now he was daring her to call him names again. She tried to avert her eyes to focus her thoughts and continued to attempt to pry his hands off. “I… Well… Why should I? Not on your command. I’m not a trained dog!”

He tightened his grip on her clothing and moved his hand from her throat to her chin, tilted it upwards so that she was looking him dead in the eye and laughed. “Not so tough now, are you? …. Little doggy?” He made a barking sound to tease her further and continued laughing to himself.

Such a mockery, although expected, was not something Rae wanted to let him get away with. She reached her hands out to either side of his helm, yanked him closer, leaned her face in and sunk her teeth into his lower lip triumphantly.

“YARRRGH!” Dagur’s eyes flew open as her teeth sank into his lip in the most agonizing way. The pain was sharp, piercing and intense and he felt tears form in the corners of his eyes. He shoved himself backwards in an attempt to get away from the crazy wench. Unfortunately, that only served to stretch his lip and, in turn, caused more pain and broke the skin. He flailed around and managed to yank his lip free, stumbled back tripping over his own feet, landed against the table and grabbed at his mouth protectively.

Rae wiped her mouth and spat onto the floor. She had not known how he’d react to her doing that and her heart was racing, ready to defend herself should he have retaliated right away. “This doggy bites!”

#sharpmidnight #ask #asks #Fanfic Writers

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13luecloud · 7 years

Text

Clichés - Vernon

Title: Clichés

Member: Vernon

Genre: Fluff, childhood friend!au

Summary: Ironic how one person can make your most hated thing as your favorite. The credits go to your childhood friend, Chwe Hansol.

Word count: 2.2k

Notes[!!]

After a long while, another piece I’m quite satisfied with the outcome with.

One of the few continously pushed back ideas on my memo. ((Yeah, just “one” of the few.))

I do hope you’d come to like this one too. :D

You hated clichés. You despised and loathed them to the moon and back. In addition to being everywhere, their predictable nature murdered potential interesting plotlines for you. A poor character does not marry a rich personality for love–social classifications existed since who-knows-how-long. Love at first sight? More like infatuation at first sight, because people don’t have the whole of their selves plastered on their fashion sense. Individuals by now should do better than to glance at mirrors or to even step in comfort rooms in a horror setting. Your peers never murmured the words “successful childhood love” whenever you stood nearby, after first handedly experiencing how earful your rant was the first time they slipped. You tried, yes you tried considering their little bitty possibilities, but in the end you jerked away from retrying. They were too farfetched for reality’s hard slapped truths.

And you hated that they–both cliché and reality–jabbed you.

“Good morning!”

“What’s so good in the morning?” you groaned as you rubbed the drowsiness off of your eyes.

“Ohhh~” your younger sister sang as if amused. “Looks like someone is grumpy.”

“Do not get me started, kid,” you warned with a pointed finger aimed at her.

Kyungcha shrugged. “Well anyways, you’ll have to wash that grumpy mood off of your pretty face by noon. Today is the day after all.” She took a final slurp of her hot chocolate before jogging up the staircase.

You groaned in irritation as your face scrunched. The reminder was not necessary as that was exactly why you had a bad start of the day. Today’s celebration belonged with the many events you wished you didn’t need to celebrate.

The wall’s hanging digital clock displayed red digits of ten and five. An hour and fifty-five minutes later, your attending family members would depart to this year’s party’s venue. Flashbacks of your failed protests from years before came to mind, and inferring that this year won’t be anything different, you lead yourself back upstairs, your heavy feet almost stomping.

Your mother, being extroverted as her mother was, made good friends with the mothers of the neighborhood. Occasionally, they’d gather and chit chat for hours about general parenting concerns, such as their children’s education, the rent, and the hardships of parenthood. Thing were normal, not to mention tolerable, until then; however, the adults took their bodings to a higher level with a grand annual gathering. Every year an appointed host would lead the event and the mothers’ families were strongly invited to join. You called the husbands fortunate because they had good reasons not to join, leaving the children whining inwardly for rescue–one of them being you.

Around 12:15pm you had left for the party (credits went to your sister for the fifteen-minute delay). The thirty-minute drive was worth it as the event hall waited right in front of a lake. And, although the party was a little over ten minutes from starting, attendees, along with the buzzing staffs, packed the huge cabin-like setting.

Your eyes skimmed over everyone’s faces to spot your handsome friend, relieved and joyed to not seeing him around. This way, you thought, your beating heart will behave, because he was your cliché.

But Kyungcha tugged your sleeve then pointed somewhere, “Hey look, your prince charming is over there.”

You whipped your head to the direction. She was right–Hansol stood there, speaking to a boy of your age. He flashed his gums, laughing at whatever they spoke of.

THUMP! THUMP! the pounding of your now excited heart went. You numbed in place. It was his mother’s turn to host the event, and that you knew well. Yet still, he had you betting that he won’t attend, because he failed to in the previous years. You can never be too sure, as an old saying did say.

Hansol spotted you and your sister and waved at you. He excused himself from his friend, striding your way after.

However, you took one, two, three steps backwards, eventually turning your back on him to walk elsewhere.

That made him tilt his head. “What’s wrong with her?” He looked down at your short sister.

She shrugged, puzzled as much as he was. “Beats me, but I think we best leave her for now.”

You headed mindlessly to nowhere specific, being a new visitor to the place, and simply found yourself by the rim of lake. You pulled out a pair of earphones from a pocket on your jeans, inserted the plug into your phone, and ignored the world with music playing on your ears, while seated on the green grass, staring aimlessly at the lake and beyond.

With or without you, not that many noticed anyway, the party started the fun. Lunch came first in line in the long list of activities, much to everyone’s delighted stomachs. The attendees participated in the set of prepared games that included Musical Chairs, the Boat is Sinking, and Charades. About or two to three parents spoke speeches as contribution to the sharing portion of the program. Consistent laughter, added with participation and enjoyment, continued to float on the atmosphere inside the venue while you sat outside. Soon, the clock chimed “snack time!”, giving soft effects to the entrance of a variety of delectables from the kitchen.

Was it two or three of your playlists that had finished? You had not counted, but it felt that way when a snack came into view. Hansol had finally approached you with two sandwiches in hand. He offered one and said, “Here. You should at least eat something.”

You shot him daggers before you stood up from your spot, declining, “I’m not hungry.” However your stomach protested an audible growl.

“I don’t know what ticked you off to be this upset, but you better eat if you know what’s best for you,” he said as he claimed a spot and pulled you back down to the space next to his. “And my mom made these.”

“I can’t refuse this if you put it that way.”

“All the better then.” He took a big bite of his share.

Hesitation flashed in your stare while pride whispered to your ears. Nevertheless you followed him soon, just nibbling bits of the food. The snack tasted good–exactly how you remembered them to be back in the good old days.

Hansol had finished his snack first and leaned back, his elbows supporting his body. “So,” he started. “What’s the matter with you today?”

“Nothing.” You swallowed the last piece of sandwich. You brought your knees closer and embraced them.

“No, you sounded upset back there; spill it.”

“Not gonna.”

“Tell me what’s wrong instead of being passive like this.” He snapped his head towards you, scowling.

“Why do you care anyway?” you retorted, your expression mirroring his.

“Should I not?”

“Can’t you tell that you should not?!”

Realizing the rising tension, your friend paused and bit his response back. That counter argument of yours took him by surprise too. Things were going the wrong way and he was sensing that. He exhaled a long sigh, head dipped down. He looked back at you, eyes now calmer, shifted in position, crossing his legs as he faced you. Hansol took a moment peering into your fazed pupils before apologizing. “I just wanted to help. I was hoping to enjoy today with everyone I haven’t been with for a long time, and within that everyone is you. But you’re too upset to even join us back there. It kind of saddens me, you know…”

You felt guilty. His eyes were clear and his words were sincere. How could you resist that honesty of his? Somehow, your everything said it couldn’t, urging you to speak without another moment delayed. “I like you. But I hate that I do.”

“… And?” His response threw you off guard.

“And? And? AND?!” you echoed louder than the last, feeling offended all of a sudden. “I just confessed to you and all you could say is ‘and?’?!”

“Well, I can’t see what’s wrong with liking someone.”

“Hansol, I don’t just like ‘someone’. I like you–my childhood friend.”

“So…?”

It took much of your self-control not to raise your voice loud enough for the city to hear. “Hansol, this is a cliché! You’re my cliché! And I know how clichés work: they never do..!”

Despite your obvious distaste, he could only chortle. “In short: you’re upset that you like me because it’s a cliché story plot, making you believe that we won’t work out in the end, right? Wow, how cute of you.”

You sighed. “Yeah. And don’t call me cute–my issue isn’t cute at all.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t.” He raised a hand as promise.

“Thank you.”

“But what if I show you that dreamy clichés are not as unrealistic as you believe they are?” Hansol said as he suddenly leaned towards your face. The distance was too small for your liking that you went the opposite way. “Hmm?” He raised a brow while smiling, waiting for your response.

“Your point is?” It hurts to assume, and you didn’t want to, but his words made you to. The spark of little hope in your instincts didn’t feel good.

“My point is that I like you back. However…” Hoping was a bad omen after all. Not that you weren’t expecting it as an anti-cliché fan, but that anchored your heart to the bottom of the lake, a flood of ache filling the inside your fragile chamber of feelings. “The company does not allow and also discouraged us from dating within the first two to three years of our career. We’re barely in our second anniversary still.”

Ahhh, right, you realized, Idol stuff. So much for a happy ending. The splash of disappointment pushed your head down, hanging low in a bow.

“Hey,” he drawled as he hoisted your chin back up and locked his eyes with yours again. “It’s not that long. I mean, look, we’re almost there, just a little over twenty months.”

That number did not sound short to your ears as he expected it to be. Your eyes drifted away elsewhere.

Seeing your reaction, Hansol sang an “awwhh” and brought you into his embrace, then swayed left to right, just like he would whenever you wept your concerns to him, years back. “Someone is playing baby again.”

“Am not.” Your mumble failed to convince him.

He continued cradling you for a minute before he spoke again, “Would it be too much to ask you to wait for me? To wait until things would go smoother than they would now?”

You sniffled, “Why are you doing all this?”

“Like I said, I wanted to show you that clichés aren’t seated next to impossible like you believe they do.”

“You know I can’t refuse if you put things that way, right?” You raised the white flag in defeat. “It’ll be a challenge, I admit, but I’ll do my best.”

It was hard to see his face from where yours was, but you felt his lips extending wider.

You two sat in position longer, but remembered a nosy kid by the name Kyungcha would scream out loud to everyone if she found you both. Hansol got on his feet first and offered you his hand. You were both laughing on your walk back to the venue, and neither stopped smiling for the rest of the day. Little did you know that everyone had their guesses why.

“Hey Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sleepy,” he whined in a drowsy murmur, wrapping you tighter. “Let’s go to bed already.”

You shifted in position to glance over your shoulder. “Is the sofa uncomfortable for you?”

Hansol slowly nodded, his eyelids half closed. “My neck will hurt here, and we have a concert tomorrow so I can’t have a stiff neck.”

The drama on screen continued. “Fifteen minutes.” You patted his hands around your waist. “The show will finish in fifteen minutes, so bear with me for a while. Please?”

Your fiancé said nothing, but whimpered as he buried his face on the crook of your neck.

You pecked his forehead and whispered your gratitude.

Ten long years went by since the day he asked you to wait. Within eight years you had celebrated seven anniversaries as an official couple. Five years back, the paparazzi led the revelation of his taken status, receiving the public’s divided reaction of hot and cold. Two years ago Hansol got on his knees, confessed the most cringe-worthy speech you had ever heard, inviting you into matrimony. And tonight you lied down on the sofa of your apartment–bodies against each other in a spoon with fingers intertwined and feet tangled.

Nevertheless, do you still believe in clichés being impossible? You’d smile to anyone and say that no, you no longer do. Because he proved that with exerted efforts, patience and trust, even the most bizarre clichés can happen. You both did.

A hand of yours was in sight and your attention drifted to the round accessory on your ring finger. The mere recollection of his proposal coaxed a smile from your expression. Clichés weren’t too farfetched after all.

Bonus GIF ‘cause I had a struggle between choosing this and the precious one for the intro’s GIF.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen oneshot #vernon #hansol #chwe hansol #seventeen

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celiocian-blog · 7 years

Text

And How’s Your Monday Going?

I told you people I would write. Here’s this POS I wrote for a contest for school.

You know, I’m not a fan of people. They can be a real bunch of bastards. Going around killing, stealing, breaking hearts. I know what you’re thinking - one of these things is not like the other. But it is just as serious. When a heart shatters, that’s all a person can think about for at least a solid week. How you want the one that did it to suffer as much as you, how you want them completely obliterated from the face of the planet…

Breakups are hard. Emotions are painful. And people strive to destroy your emotions, every last ounce of humanity a person may have. And yet, it is still a human pastime. Why? We still don’t know. Humans are cruel beings. And I want the heart of the man that did it-

Well. Ain’t that a load of shit. Sure, I agree with the people info, but goddamn, quit listening to the classical music while you type. You’re gonna die of a busted heart from somebody that didn’t even exist. Creepy freak.

I sat up from lounging across my couch, or at least tried my hardest to. Thing was sinking bad, but what can you do? Being a bachelor isn’t a life of glitz and gold. And glitter. I think glitter should be in that sentence too. It’s sparkly and all that jazz. At least I have time to read, if you call that depressing dreck a piece of literature. Either way, I snapped the book shut and tossed it halfway across the room, barely missing the cat.

Sorry, Sinbad. But you shouldn't be in the center of the room. Quit licking your ass while you’re at it.

I hopped up and brought my arms into the air, bending my back backwards in a lackluster attempt to remove the kinks from my spinal column. Nearly freaking snapped my spine at the sudden damn car horn, though. Mofos need to learn to drive in this damned city, don’t want a Buick driving through the front wall.

I tossed my old shirt that I slept in across the room and made a lazy beeline towards my bedroom, in other words, my closet. Not much was bound to be in there, though. Probably needed to do laundry - shit kept popping up all the damn time. The very fact that I had any work-acceptable dress shirts was in and of itself a miracle gracing the face of the planet.

To be honest, dress shirts and khakis with ties are some of the plainest shit known to man. Seriously, at least let us wear jeans or something, goddamn. And the ties, God, the ties, those freaking fashionable nooses. And I have to do this all in the god-forsaken morning, you fucking asshole boss.

Okay, maybe he’s not too big an asshole, but still. He makes us get up in the morning. But he did give me that raise… And the whole living situation thing… But still! Morning!

Okay, scratch that. I just complain about a lot of shit. Mornings included. Goddamn, do I hate mornings.

After a few select curses, I eventually find those ugly ass pants and pull them on, moaning and groaning the entire time that I do. It’s cold in the room, which means these nuthuggers are just as freakin' cold. Then again, it’s New York in late November. What else is to be expected? I guess this means I need to invest in a better trenchcoat for the the winter season. Or a parka. Just something warmer than the piece of cloth I have now.

I feel kinda guilty turning the heat on in the apartment. It’s technically not mine, after all. Then whose is it, you ask? My boss’s. Soooooo… Yeah. Not an asshole. Needed a place to stay post-divorce and he offered up his apartment for when he had late nights. Nice and fully furnished at least, but it’s creepy sleeping in my boss’s bed. Hence the couch.

After a whirlwind of clothes and tripping over random shit, I finally began my trek to work. Pros of being in this apartment: close to work. Cons: close to work. Well, could be worse. Like I said, my boss is nice and my coworkers are the same for the most part. I’m head of IT so I have to deal with stupidity a lot, but most everyone is pretty competent. Mostly.

Grabbing my phone before heading out probably would’ve been a mistake if not for the fact that I desperately needed it. Apparently, some freaking person decided to call and leave a voicemail! Who the fuck does that anymore? Does anyone even remember their voicemail password besides me? I think not!

Popping in the quadruple digit code brought me to the box itself. “You have one new message from Neil.” Neil? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. If there was anyone’s voice I didn’t want to hear, it was Neil’s. He was probably still aiming to take all my money and my video games and my cat and by god, I was not going to let that happen.

Manning up the best I could, I pressed the button to listen to the message. Maybe he decided to be civil. “Hey, Baxter, I need to talk to you. Just some stuff here that I figured you might like that I think you left by accident. A few books, a picture or two. Your rings are still here, too. Maybe we could meet up for coffee at that place you like and talk about it.”

He was quiet for a moment, probably trying to think of some way to lure me back to him. “Anyway, um, I hope you’re doing well. The flat’s pretty quiet without you and Sinbad.” He laughed softly, in that way that made me melt when I was still naive. “I still love you. If you ever want t0 think about getting back together, I’m here-”

I hung up and quickly deleted the message, giving myself a moment to catch my breath. There was no way in hell that I would be going back to that ass, not after everything he did to me these past three years. I was done with him. I swallowed down what little ounce of a panic attack that was trying to creep its way in and left the apartment.

Having been raised New York, hiking through snow is an easy yet still interesting thing to do. Boots are your friend and you should always hunch forwards to move your center of gravity. Make sure to make a pissed off face, too, to get everyone out of your way. It scares people and makes them more intimated. I’ve since mastered this fine art of resting bitch face-ery, especially today after that fucking moment dealing with fuck his face Neil. At least, I thought I had mastered it, but the guy I bumped into, whoo boy. He really took the cake.

Imagine as pretty a face a man can have - full pouty lips, long eyelashes, dark blue eyes that nearly fucking pierced into your soul… And the most annoyed scowl I had ever seen in my life. Like, parts of the guy’s face looked mid twenties, others looked pushing on thirty. He stood in front of my office building, tip tap typing away on his cell phone like a goddamn teenage girl and scaring people off with the RBF that only the gods could have granted. Bet he was a prick to talk to.

I made very sure to whistle the Kill Bill whistle as I walked into the building. By god, I was going to make Mr. Shit Face aware of his own existence to everyone around him. Only, I guess I didn’t expect him to follow after me inside. Was he gonna kill me? Shit, maybe the whistle really was a bad idea. If I get murdered, I’m gonna be pissed.

I resisted the urge to spin a few times through the revolving doors before being met with the way too fancy lobby. This was supposed to be a charity, right? Especially those fancy-ass elevators which I made a bee-line for, immediately forgetting the whistle… Only for it to be slammed shut in front of me. Stairs it is, but hey, maybe the excruciating pain in my legs will null out the excruciating pain in my heart.

I turned the corner around the elevator and found the rarely used stairs door. I mean, seriously people. Why do stairwells all look the same? All concrete and bland and prison-slash-highschool looking. I scowled to myself and began making my way up, trying desperately to not trip while walking up the stairs.

Okay, he was following me to and up the stairs. Maybe I should’ve taken the elevator today, after all. Still not too skippy of this guy stalking after me as if he was going to kill me. Both of us up two floors, three floors, four floors. What the fuck? The hell is this guy trying to do? I really wasn’t entertained with the idea of the last person’s voice I had listened to being Neil’s.

I scrambled through the door that led to my floor and this FUCK was still following me! Goddammit, time to man up twice in one day! I spun around to him as he walked through and stared him down (awkwardly, yet literally… he was a couple inches shorter than me). “H-Hey! You got a bone to pick with me or something?”

He blinked and tilted his head to the side an inch, causing a dark lock of curly hair to fall. Wait, don’t tell me I jumped to conclusions. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. “Pardon?”

Wait, what? Was he seriously not going after me? Did I really just jump to conclusions? Maybe this divorce was getting to me head… Goddammit, was that a blush coming to my cheeks and I am not a smart man. “You were following me! What do you want from me?!”

He kept on with the owl-eyed stare before slowly shaking his head, his lips curling into a tiny smile. Goddammit, I did jump to conclusions. Fuck me sideways-

Aaaaaaand he’s gone crazy. Interrupting me from my mental scolding was him suddenly bursting out into this weird fit of laughter. And by fit, I mean full on, eyes closed and watering, hand over mouth, practically at a right angle he’s hunched over so much fit. Goddammit, I was not funny. And that was not funny.

Not that I could actually get around to protesting because the moment I came out of my shocked stupor, his laughter was winding down. Stupid little grin still plastered to his stupid little face, he reached up and pat my shoulder. “Thanks for that. I really needed it after what I went through this morning.” And with that, he walked off! That stupid little prick just disappeared into the distance, off to whatever department he worked for!

Wait. What department did he work for? Now that I think about it, I don’t think i had ever seen him around before. And this may be a big company, but I usually recognize people that work here. But nope, this guy was a brand spanking new hire. Obviously not IT, I didn’t have to deal with the interview process.

Whatever, I’d probably be getting an email begging me to fix his new computer. “Help me!” he’d say. “I’m stupid with computers!” Ahhh, aren’t they all? And that, ladies and gents is why I have job security.

I made damn sure to avoid every desk I could see, trying my hardest to not be spotted for some sort of tech help. It was like a weird game of hide and seek. Except being caught would lead to you being miserable for the next hour. Yay work.

Long story short, I made it past the hoards of sheeple to my office and plopped right down in my chair, turning on my computer in hopes of a lack of emails. Apparently, the boss man decided to be nice to everyone because they was only one in the inbox and the subject was “New Hire.” Yay, home team! I get to figure out who bug face is!

I leaned forward into my hand with my elbow on the desk (probably like you are right now) and skimmed through. Blah blah blah, recent hire, blah blah blah, be nice, blah blah blah, oh look, name! Apparently this guy was named “Isidore Elijay.” That was certainly a hell of a name.

Now to check and see where he was working. I don’t remember anyone saying they were looking for new hires recently, maybe he was just an intern. But then again, he looked too old to be one. God, come on, email, enough with this fluff!

Wait.

Does that say what I think it says?

“Isidore has been hired as my new personal assistant. Hence, I certainly expect you to give him the utmost respect.”

Awwww, shit.

#writing #my writng #Baxter #Codename: IDK #first person

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marrincostello · 4 years

Text

'Can everyone mute?' Coronavirus means we must telecommute. We're not ready

On Thursday morning, as the number of new coronavirus cases in California climbed past 50, crates of telecommunications equipment and prefabricated sound isolation booths started arriving at the Playa Vista headquarters of ICANN, the organization tasked with overseeing the deepest levels of the internet.

ICANN, which stands for Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers, was originally set to hold its March meeting in Cancún, where policy and tech wonks from around the world would convene to hammer out the minutiae of global internet governance.

Instead, they decided to host in Los Angeles what might be the world’s largest-ever working conference call.

Nearly 3,000 people from 150 countries speaking three live-translated languages will participate for four days, with quick-turnaround transcriptions translated into all the official languages of the U.N. to make sure no one is left out of the discussion.

The operation is running on Zoom, the teleconferencing platform whose stock has surged nearly 70% since the beginning of the year in response to the virus-driven demand for telecommuting, augmented by software and systems that ICANN has built over the years to facilitate mass meetings and quick translation.

While Zoom can handle videoconferences at a large scale, the conference is defaulting to voice-only communications since many participants will dial in from countries with unreliable internet service. Zoom has committed to having its head of operations on standby to help work out any kinks.

When asked whether this emergency operation was guaranteed to go off without a hitch when it begins on Saturday, ICANN Chief Information Officer Ashwin Rangan let out a laugh.

“We are testing out a lot of things in real time,” Rangan said. “We are creating backup plans and plan Cs and testing them all as I speak.”

Translation: going virtual on this scale is a step into uncharted territory — and a step that more and more businesses are taking in response to COVID-19.

In the past week, companies across the U.S. have started canceling major conferences, halting most business travel and urging employees to work from home in response to the growing viral outbreak in the country. Few will require telecom operations as vast and complicated as ICANN’s, but as companies such as Twitter and Microsoft start shifting to virtual work en masse, the vision of a decentralized work world long promised by telecommuting evangelists is starting to materialize.

But is the technology itself — and the American workplace — ready to go fully remote?

Even as the tools have improved, with Zoom and the collaboration tools such as Slack taking the place of landline conference calls and endless email chains and telepresence robots offering remote workers a chance to amble around the office, the stubborn problem of human error persists.

Stories of getting caught out in pajamas on video calls, or mysterious heavy breathing on mass dial-ins, have become common parts of the work experience as part-time telecommuting becomes a standard feature of office life. Maybe the next generation of remote-work tech, which is likely to include full virtual reality, will solve these hiccups; almost certainly, it will bring new ones.

Shannon Engoian, an ad agency account director, got an unsettling glimpse of the future in the early 2010s, when her firm pitched the company that made the open-ended multiplayer video game “Second Life” — in “Second Life.”

Engoian recalled how her team had to make digital avatars to attend the in-game meeting with the company’s senior executives, then spent some time practicing how to navigate the virtual space.

But when the time for the big meeting came, things did not go as planned.

“This one particular meeting room that they teleported us to for the pitch itself was not a room at all, but was like a bonfire circle on a beach,” Engoian said. “It’s a high stress scenario, a real pitch with real people, so I’m like nervous I’m thinking about my speaking roles and stuff.”

The “Second Life” executives appeared in their virtual avatars — Engoian recalls an inflatable frog and a centaur, among others — and the assembled businesspeople sat down on the log benches around the fire to start their meeting.

“My avatar sits down backwards so that her back is facing the rest of the group,” Engoian recalled. Frantic, she tried getting up and sitting down two or three more times, each time with the same result, until her supervisor pinged her AOL Instant Messenger to tell her to give up. At that point, her computer froze. The last her colleagues saw of her was Engoian “flying up and away out of the meeting forever.”

“I was like, ‘Oh my god, I’m gonna be fired over this,’” Engoian said. (She wasn’t, and they won the account.)

While putting on a digital centaur’s skin to hang out in a video game may not seem like work, research has shown that working from home can yield a net increase in productivity.

A 2017 study out of Stanford Graduate School of Business conducted an experiment that found that remote workers at China’s largest travel agency, Ctrip, saw a 13% bump in productivity compared to their office-bound peers over nine months. A similar study from Harvard Business School looked at U.S. Patent and Trademark Office workers who were allowed to go fully remote, rather than having to check in at the office once a week, and found that they ended up 4.4% more productive overall.

Prithwiraj Choudhury, the lead author on the Harvard study, has continued to research remote work in the U.S. and thinks that employee demand, increasing real estate prices and solid technology are combining to make remote work more attractive today than ever. But the key to pulling it off, he’s found, is creating a new culture for remote work.

“You have to create new processes that support remote work,” Choudhury said. Two major problems are syncing over time zones and fostering a sense of camaraderie over distance.

At the patent office, managers brought remote workers into the fold by delivering personal pizzas to their home offices at the same time that they were calling into a pizza-fueled meeting at HQ.

“If you have a team where some people are remote, you need to recognize the pain that remote people go through,” Choudhury said. “Not just the communication loss but also in some ways the different self-identity.”

In recent years, a number of companies have sprung up to solve workplace problems unique to telecommuting.

One of them, Range, builds tools that help teams with no central office coordinate complicated projects, tracking productivity and progress from afar so that managers can shake the feeling that their direct reports are slacking off at home. Twitter, whichthis week advised all staffers to work from home when possible in response to the virus, is a major client.

“Initially, companies see a benefit when more people go remote, because people aren’t interrupted as much,” said Range co-founder and Chief Product Officer Braden Kowitz. “Then, they start to notice communication breaks down. Then the third thing is that the culture breaks down.”

To solve the communication problem, Range augments its progress-tracking tools with strong meeting facilitation practices drawn from design critiques and old-fashioned handbooks like “Robert’s Rules of Order” — opening with a round-the-table icebreaker to get everyone talking, sticking to clear agendas and only allowing people to speak in strict order so that everyone gets to talk.

To address the social issue, Range had to get a little more creative, building in features that replicate the kind of water-cooler socializing and team bonding that happens when people occupy a shared space.

The company offers a feature that includes 350 questions that teams can use as jumping-off points for non-work conversations, starting with anodyne questions like where people went on recent vacations and then ramping up to more thoughtful, personal questions like how people approach risk, and how they see their clothes reflecting their personalities.

“We looked at ways for teams to build psychological safety and trust,” Kowitz said. “if you’re a team you have to be able to ask each other for help, and in order to ask for help you need to be vulnerable.”

Zapier, a 300-person company whose software automates tasks between web apps, has been fully remote since its start in 2011. Its founders have become evangelists for remote working over the years, commissioning reports on the practice, publishing their Slack etiquette guide as a model and serving as informal advisers to companies considering that path.

“It’s allowed us to tap into a global talent pool in a way nobody else can,” said Wade Foster, Zapier’s chief executive.

The company has kept to its remote-work roots as the software for conference calls and office chatting has changed, and Foster chalks its successup to a few core practices. Zapier has a budget to set up all new hires with a kitted-out home office, requires all meetings to be full video calls, and has a strong onboarding process that teaches employees how to use their customized version of Slack. And it makes sure that everyone writes everything down.

“It takes a level of discipline to document what is going on in the org that many in-office cultures don’t have,” Foster said.

But even in a company that does everything right, not every tech worker is cut out for a fully remote life. Foster said that some potential Zapier recruits have balked at the lack of an office.

“More times than not they end up being successful in the company,” Foster said. “The few times where it doesn’t, I’d say it tends to be with folks who use work as their social outlet.”

And for those who prefer a compromise between the virtual and tangible worlds, there are always robots.

Double Robotics is one of the leading U.S. manufacturers of “telepresence” robots, which display a video feed of a telecommuting worker on a screen attached to a Segway-like wheeled contraption that can be driven remotely. Double’s chief executive, David Cann, says the company has been seeing a surge in orders as coronavirus fears ramp up across the country.

“We’re trying to catch up on orders, we have a backlog now and we’re trying to build as fast as possible,” Cann said.

But the same virus that’s prompting an uptick in orders is posing some problems for the company. The broad shutdown in China, where the original outbreak took place, has squeezed the supply chains that Double relies on to build their products at their Burlingame, Calif., headquarters.

That technology, however, has improved. Until last year, the Double was still essentially a tricked-out ride for an off-the-shelf Apple iPad. Users had to manually steer the Double around the office, and inept driving could get its wheels stuck on a doorframe.

A Double telepresence robot.

(Chris O’Brien / Los Angeles Times)

“It wasn’t a big deal, but it’s a little bit embarrassing,” Cann said. But the 2019 model, the Double Three, comes with a built-in tablet screen, and has enough sensors that users can just point-and-click where they want to go within the robot’s field of vision. The Double will glide on over, avoiding objects and edges along the way.

As with other remote working technologies, Cann said that building an office culture around their robots is the surest indicator of a successful transition. Most importantly, the remote worker and all of their coworkers need to be on board with the robot concept.

“For the first day or two, it’s going to be a total novelty — you need to get everyone around and ask all the crazy questions and get that out of the way first,” Cann said. “The next day, it’s just like, ‘Oh, that’s Joe on the robot.’”

This content was originally published here.

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ugdigital · 4 years

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INTERVIEW: Renn Tyler: Beautiful Chaos

As we work diligently at reintroducing ourselves into the media world, I spend a lot of time critiquing artists, and determining who I would like to feature within our pages. It’s not always an easy decision. Obviously, the industry is flooded with artists, and we have to be sure any artist being considered fits the concept of our pages, and just that it makes sense. In my recent search, I came across Renn Tyler, and I’m beyond impressed. Renn certainly has what it takes to make it in this industry, and it becomes ever-so-clear at the first listen of her music. By look, she’s not what you would necessarily expect, which h is more reason why you should never judge a book by the cover. Sure, we hear that all the time, but there’s much truth to the idea. You would miss out on an amazing artist here if you took the initial look and ran with it in terms of her capability. No question, she’s beautiful by all standards, yet, she doesn’t have the “typical” hip-hop look. She’s authentic in every sense of the word, and you would be doing yourself a disservice by not giving her a listen. So we had the opportunity to catch up with her, and it’s awesome that we were able to get an interview completed. She’s perfect for our rebranding and relaunch, and I’m excited to have connected with her. We’re also her first interview, which is amazing in itself. Check out the feature below, and be sure to give her a listen. We have an artist page for her here at U.G. Digital as well, so you can definitely hit that page up and listen freely to her music.

U.G. Digital: First and foremost, I want to thank you. It’s huge, first of all, to connect with you. I think you really have something big, especially with the single “Nada”. I liked it immediately. I don’t say that about many today, and I’m in this place where I’m not necessarily the biggest fan anymore. Honestly, I’m stuck in the 90s and early 00s. I drive uber as a side hustle, and many of my passengers marvel at the music I play because it’s often more than 20 years old. It’s a little refreshing that you’ve come along, and have something that I’m eager to play. You sound authentic, and I believe it’s a good look. We’re in a bit of a reinvention stage, even though we’re seven years in, and you’re that perfect look for us. I appreciate that so much.

Renn Tyler: Yes, thank you as well.

U.G. Digital: So the first thing I want you to do is tell everyone who you are?

Renn Tyler: I am Renn Tyler. I’m a rapper and an artist in so many different areas. I like to dabble in all sorts of things, so whatever I’m into at the moment, I just get it done. I’ve always been unapologetically myself. That’s kinda like my mission. We’re all so unique and powerful on our own. People spend so much time trying to define themselves, and I want to encourage people to do that.

U. G. Digital: I like what you said. You said you were “unapologetically yourself”. What fans want is somebody that puts out the music they love of course, but more importantly someone they can relate to, whose life resembles theirs, and so on. They have the same ideals, or same principles. In the last few months, I’ve been in this place where it’s like “F” everybody, I’m unapologetically me, and whoever doesn’t like it, whatever. That resonates with people.

Renn Tyler: Right.

U.G. Digital: You were a poet before. What took you to rap?

Renn Tyler: I’ve always been a fan. It’s always been there, but I never believed in myself as far as being that artist. I just remember going to a spoken word event, and being completely awe-struck over the spoken word and the ability to communicate through story-telling and put it to a beat. What pushed me over to rap was meeting James and Darren. It was like a snowball effect.

U.G. Digital: I think I’ve been a huge fan rap, R&B, soul, rock, alternative, and just a lot of different music for my entire lite. Rap was where it started for me though. I’ve also been into the diversity of hip-hop and the fact that everyone who raps is not black. There’s always this idea of somebody being a culture vulture when visibly they’re not really a part of the culture or when they’re not black, but I really look more at how organic it is though. I would imagine, though, that people judge you just by the look, without even hearing you. What has been the feedback that you get as you go out and you’re introduced to people as a rapper? Do you get the side eyes?

Renn Tyler: Yea, I think it’s still foreign for me to call myself a rapper, and I’m hesitant for that reason. In the end, that is what I’m doing though. I haven’t gotten any crazy looks though. Nothing has been too disheartening. Mostly its people who have heard me or know me already. I’m kinda like a wild card, so no one is surprised that I’m doing it.

U.G. Digital: As crazy as society can be, I think things are changing slowly. Everyone has their own experience, and many people grow up with rap now.

Renn Tyler: Right.

U.G. Digital: Talk about the material you’ve been putting together?

Renn Tyler: We have a couple other songs already recorded. I write everyday. I’m always writing, so there is so much material out there that’s all influenced by my life. I don’t think there’s anything written that is not an honest experience.

U.G. Digital: I have such an appreciation for the artist that talks about a day job (laughing)

Renn Tyler: Yea, we gotta pay bills too [laughing]

U.G. Digital: Right, but it’s just cool to know that we’re all on the same page. I have many jobs, so I know the whole thing with it (laughing).

Renn Tyler: Yea, for sure.

U.G. Digital: I think it’s cool though. I love what you have put out. What do you feel you want to represent as an artist?

Renn Tyler: Like I said, just being unapologetically yourself, but I also want to encourage young women. It’s so hard to be a young girl in this society. I want girls to look at me and say that’s what I had when I was younger. I want to give back in that way. So being who I am, self expression, and communicating through storytelling. Being able to take that to the next level and make music is great. I’m communicating my experience which is therapeutic for me, but they take it in however they do and it becomes therapeutic for them. I love that exchange and it’s the power and importance of life. You’re not alone and other people have gone through what you’re going through.

U.G. Digital: I love the poetic side of it. When you think of your Jill Scotts, and many others, this is something that’s definitely being done. What are your thoughts on hip hop and its current state when it comes to women? How can you help?

Renn Tyler: I think it’s going in a good direction and I’m excited. Everyone has their own brand and it feels natural. All these dope women are making the music they want, and they can be sexy when they want. I think it’s moving in a cool direction.

U.G. Digital: That’s dope. I ask that because there’s so many women who are phenomenal, and they struggle so bad to work together. They’ve lost a lot of respect in the industry, and it seems like it’s moving backwards.

Renn Tyler: I think we’re coming to that place of being organic and genuine. We used to want the larger than life artists, like Brittany Spears, but now we want to know the artist is just like us. Why do you ask? Do you think it’s going backwards?

U.G. Digital: What I think is the respect is gone. You have so many dope women, and they’re constantly at each others’ necks, for wthings that seem ridiculous. It’s changed a lot of the new dynamic that was forming for them in past years. I think you have the Queen Latifahs, and the Monie Loves, and so many other females in rap who have worked so hard to not only make it more inclusive of women, but to build the respect level for women, and you have women today who are so brash, rough, and unapologetic about it, and it’ ruining the work that was done. I look at the stuff with Nicki and Cardi, and to me, there was no point in it. They have their own styles, and are both dope, but they’re killing the game with their nonsense and it overshadows the music, which truthfully is what fans really want. It makes people pay less attention to the woman herself, and look more at the unnecessary stuff. Like Missy Elliott has this new EP out which is super dope, and I feel like it’s totally being slept on.

Renn Tyler: That’s so true. That speaks to the nature, like people want information so bad. They don’t respect it as much. I agree as far as the beefing too. Women are so powerful, and when they get together that power is insane.

U.G. Digital: So what are your plans as far as releasing more material?

Renn Tyler: Yea, we have a remix that is being worked on right now, and I’m excited for that. Then I’ll take care of the music video.

U.G. Digital: I’m excited for you. I dig that we are your first interview too. I also appreciate how prepared you are today. You sound like a complete natural at interviewing. I think its definitely your time. How can people keep up with you online?

Renn Tyler: On instagram, I’m at @bulletproofteeth. That’s normally what I’m on. I also do fashion design, and hand embroidery.

U.G. Digital: I think it’s super dope. Thank you so much. Any final comments?

Renn Tyler: My single is out everywhere, buy it on iTunes and all online retailers, including Tidal, Spotify, and so forth. Make some Tik Tok videos to it. I would really appreciate that (laughing).

#music #interview #feature #artist #hip-hop #rap #poetic #poet #spoken word #Renn Tyler

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