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matuto1ypea · 16 days

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CHANGED

I guess i can share one writing i finished literally like, yesterday, nothing special and it barely makes sense out of context but there it is.

It was done for a writing prompt.

CHANGED for a scene from my muse's past that represented a turning point in their life

Brightly lit room of the Riffingham central hospital, sun that rarely shone over the lands of Dolores was merciless. Arwyn stared out the window, watching clouds drift with the wind, gentle breeze saving unprepared for the summer folk - it was only the end of the second month of spring.

His father was asleep. Slow, steady beeping of the EEG machine showed he was, in fact, still alive. Ever since Arwyn arrived, he's been asleep.

He couldn't help feeling relieved. As his doctors let them know, he's been living off his last hours, if not minutes. Old Fletcher wanted to see his sons one last time, and it didn't sound like a good thing to anyone - as it is the first time he is seeing them both together. As expected, a question of what it is that he needs them both for? One of them out of the world- and no wish to see his late wife?

Might be the question of heritage. Arwyn assumed, there was no other reason. But he's long assumed that Alistair was out of the question - was he wrong? A flush grabbed at his cheeks, well, he wasn't looking forward to inheriting that business either.

Was he wrong about Alistair?

“Arwyn,” voice behind him, weak and shriveled, called out, “Where's your brother?”

Arwyn rushed to the bed, and held his father's hand.

“Surely will arrive soon,” Arwyn smiled, rubbing the weak hand gently, “He's coming from far away, yes?”

“Don't say he's departed-” a pause, the old man tried to focus on the door, as words struggled to leave his mouth, “Don't say he's departed only a few hours ago? He had… a week.”

Arwyn pursed his lips, shrugging just barely. Only Seers knew what was on Alistair's mind. A person of extraordinary, unpredictable mind he was. Father was wrong, though. Alistair's been in Berceusia for three days now.

Only Seers knew what was on his mind.

“Calm yourself,” Arwyn said, “He's responsible. And it's not three yet.”

The old man clicked his tongue, in a way Arwyn knew that he wanted to add something else, but whether it was his fatigue or politeness that stopped him, hard to tell.

Tension started to rise in the room, and Arwyn caught himself thinking - what a wonderful day it was outside. And he had to be here, in a sterile hospital room, and his father was no longer unconscious. He caught himself thinking how much he'd rather be anywhere else, like Alistair was right now. Arwyn held a sigh.

The old man mumbled something, but Arwyn could barely make anything that wasn't his brother's name said in familiar disdain. Whatever it was, Arwyn figured he didn't want to hear it.

And as time was slowly turning to three o'clock, he started to worry. Arwyn more and more glanced at the clock on the wall over the door, feeling his palm getting sweaty grasping into his father's. “He'll be here any minute,” Arwyn thought comforting words, “He's never late.”

“He's almost here.” Arwyn said now out loud, less for his father as much for himself.

He didn't want to be here alone.

Fast footsteps outside the room, but it wasn't one person. At least two. More worry in his chest, Arwyn looked at his dad, who closed his eyes once again and rested. Might’ve not heard him a few minutes ago, then. That mattered not- he’s rather glad that he didn’t. His voice wasn’t his father’s favorite.

Door flew open, exactly as every hand took their position of three in the afternoon. A man in tophat and a cloak stood with a nurse dragging him back, saying something about no outside wear being allowed and other such formalities. He was unmoved and stubborn.

That was his brother.

Arwyn exhaled an anxious breath he held, waving to Alistair.

“You're late.” Grumbled the old man, cracking open his eyes again.

“Not.” Said Alistair, removing his cloak and resting it on the empty stool, hat following along. He barked at the nurse not to touch it, after which she finally decided to leave it, or she ran off to look for alternative influence on him. In a face of a chief doctor, perhaps. “It's exactly three.”

The old man grumbled something unintelligible again.

Arwyn picked himself up, to greet his sibling appropriately. Having exchanged a simple handshake, Alistair took his seat on another stool, further from the bed. Arwyn stayed by the window again, leaning onto the sill, pushing away the disappointment of his sibling’s detachment from him.

The sun was shining brightly, though having already passed its peak it slowly was taking to rest. Soon, it wouldn't be slipping through the window anymore.

Silence lingered in the room.

“Well?” Alistair clasped his hands, leaning to their dad. For a nicely clothed man, he was still messy, no talk of manners either. You'd hardly say he was a gentleman. “What's all this then?”

By the parking lot of the hospital, a couple of punks argued. Arwyn squinted and moved his head, to get a better view.

“I'm dying,” the old man cut to the point, no patience he had when he spoke to Arwyn, “My notary will be speaking to you, but I needed to have you both before this accursed tumor got to me.”

“What's with Mrs Fletcher?”

“That's none of her business.”

Arwyn frowned slightly, as the argument grew into a fight. That was a strange choice of place for solving their conflict, but suppose there's no need to call an ambulance now.

“Okay.” Alistair nodded, strain in his voice tangible, “Then talk. Is it about Alice Motors? I thought we already had this conversation. I don't want any of it.”

“Then you will shut your mouth and listen,” Retorted the old man, the same strain causing him to cough. His shaking hand pointed at Arwyn standing by the window. “AM is going to Arwyn, it didn't change.”

One of the punks was on the ground, the rest kicking him from every side. Arwyn held a hand to his mouth in strange anticipation. Weren't there supposed to be security cameras outside? Is no one else paying attention at all?

“Great, then-”

“Shut- stay silent.” The old man barked, “I didn't finish. What's with your interrupting? Constant interrupting. Who taught you that?”

Alistair didn't say anything.

Weak hands rested atop the man’s stomach, satisfied with his older son’s compliance. It was obvious than ever that Alistair was on the brink - fumbling with his fingers, tense expression on his face. No one wanted to be here.

“I needed to make peace,” The old man continued. “With myself, and the both of you.”

Arwyn just barely glanced back at the other men in the room. It’s as if the words coming out of his father’s mouth were hard to really believe. Alistair, clearly, felt the same, raising an eyebrow with apprehension he hid behind confusion.

“Don't have to tell me how insufferable I am,” After a moment, continued the father, “Even someone like me, at my age, has to realize he wasn't an angel. You've got the right idea to spit on my grave.” He tried to chuckle, to let out a pathetic wheeze, “And yet I tried my damndest. Look at you.”

Arwyn stayed still; the punks outside wouldn't stop fighting. He quietly observed his brother, who sat just as motionless, taking in their father's words.

“Disappointments. Both of you.”

A poisonous sting in his chest didn't let Arwyn move or react. He kept watching, words simply washing over him. He couldn't hear his thoughts.

A moment of silent procession barely interrupted by the rare cough. Alistair nodded.

“Okay.”

The old man stared dumbly in front of him, saying nothing. The thought he might've dozed off again didn't come questioned, as none tried to break the lingering nothing.

Arwyn locked eyes with his brother in passing, the annoyance and irritation in them he seems to wear his face with casually, are turned up twice in intensity.

“That all?” Alistair says blankly.

No immediate response.

Alistair picked himself up, “This is a waste of my time.” He grumbled, heading to the exit.

“So much money into every of your whims.” The father continued, as if air was knocked out of him while he was thinking, “And never satisfied. Never satisfied.”

Alistair glared at him, then at Arwyn.

Arwyn sniffled quietly, staring down at the floor.

“I did everything I could, still.”

Arwyn didn't know if he was begging for pity, understanding, or something else entirely. Years flashed through the minds of every person in the room, and Arwyn felt cold sweat running down his spine once he realized the extent, the weight of these words - despite the acknowledgement, he was never self aware. He was not pleading guilty.

Arwyn's chest ached, spots of his body that he couldn't protect before, that he was too small and innocent to protect, pained anew, and the animosity in his brother's ruby red eyes seemed to be able to burn the entire hospital down if he so desired.

He knew if there was one thing about Alistair that he wasn't going to stand the stepping and stomping on, it was his dignity and ego.

Tragically, a trait his father shared.

Alistair came up to the father's bed, leaning into his space dangerously close.

“No one will miss you.” He said, “And all your shallow achievements alongside your name will fade into obscurity. You are nothing to me.”

His breath shook, strained nonchalance that bordered with fury unheard of.

The old man closed his eyes, furrowing.

“I'm leaving.”

So he did, picking his hat and throwing his cloak over the shoulder, without looking back. Arwyn tried to mumble a goodbye, doubtful that it ever reached Alistair's ears.

Words unsaid floated in the room, the presence of his brother still tangible. In beeping rapid, Arwyn's lump in the throat.

The rest felt like a blur. There were doctors in the room, a bunch of people around his father's bed. Whatever was said to him, flew over his head, through his polite nodding.

It was only four or five o'clock. He remembers that wind had stilled by then, and clouds seemed motionless in a yellowing sky.

“Excuse me,” He said, “Someone needs help outside. I think there was a fight.”

#mirakae

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my-weird-news · 8 months

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😂 12 Hilarious Office Memes to Brighten Your Workday! 🤣

When Work Becomes a Circus 🎪 Isn't it just wild to think we could have a world where we're all sipping coconut water on a beach, but nooo, we're stuck juggling spreadsheets in this crazy work culture instead. 🏖️🥥 Work, my friends, can be a real beast. I mean, who needs an alarm clock when your boss's emails can give you heart palpitations? But hey, if you're ready for a chuckle between those conference calls, brace yourselves for these uproarious work memes! Time Warp: 7 Hours = 7 Minutes ⏰ Imagine, you stroll into your office, park your behind, and dive into the email abyss. Suddenly, it feels like you've aged a century, but in reality, it's just been seven minutes. 😱 That guy in the meme? His face is like a Picasso painting of a worker bee who's slaved for hours only to realize it's barely snack o'clock. Karen vs. The Manager: A Tale of Equine Wisdom 🐴 Ah, the Karen, that mystical creature that prowls in stores, demanding to see the manager. But guess what, horses have cracked the code! They've shown us the hoof-stomping truth: when Karen corners the manager, it's like ordering a pizza with extra karma—same response, different toppings. 🍕 If only we could neigh our way out of customer conundrums! Endless Meeting, Enter That Guy 🗣️ Ever been trapped in a meeting that felt like a never-ending accordion solo? Finally, you see the light at the end of the boring tunnel, until that guy pulls a verbal rabbit out of his hat, and suddenly time implodes. Now that's a disappearing act no one asked for. 🎩 Zen and the Art of Nature Vacuuming 🍃 Let's talk about the art of looking busy when the boss hovers by. This meme? It's a masterpiece! A woman vacuuming nature—because nothing says productivity like tidying up the great outdoors. I bet her resume says "Mother Earth's Personal Housekeeper." 🌍 Death's Grin and The Great Escape ☠️ Work blues got you wondering what life's all about? Well, this meme says death's a big upgrade, ‘cause you'll never need to face a spreadsheet again. The happy cadaver's smile says, "I’m free from meetings and memos!" 😄 Remember, folks, even death seems more appealing than Excel sometimes! When Work Multiplies Like Gremlins 🧟‍♂️ Picture this: you slog like a champ, only to discover your reward is more work. Surprise, it's the job version of getting a second pet gremlin that comes with zero instructions. 😩 Our man's hidden expression mirrors the reality of working, where hard work's treated like a buffet—everything's piled onto your plate. Faxes in a Time Machine 📠 Ever been asked to send a fax in the era of smartphones and AI? It's like asking a hamster to fix your car. But some folks still cling to their fax machines like they're the golden ticket to job security. This meme’s here to make us wonder, "Do these fax lovers also send carrier pigeons?" 🐦 The Couch Potato of Corporate Chaos 🍿 Behold, the dude chilling as the office combusts around him! This is the face of someone who warned everyone that a clown car couldn't fit through the door, but no one listened. Now all he can do is grab popcorn and watch the circus. 🤡 The Pun-slinging Office Hero 🦸‍♂️ Who doesn’t love a good pun? This guy’s a master of cheesy office banter. It's like a marathon of punchlines in a 3-second sprint. Bet he can turn any dull meeting into a stand-up show, complete with laughter sound effects. 🎤🎵 Friday's Freedom vs. Monday's Mess 🎉🧹 Friday's here, and you're mentally moonwalking out of the office. Papers fly like confetti; you're the mess-maker extraordinaire! But hold on a second—Monday isn't exactly your cleanup crew. You're the superhero that left the city in chaos, only to return as the janitor. 🦸‍♂️🧼 The Great Workplace Hypocrisy 🕰️ Ah, the workplace double standard, where staying late goes unnoticed, but sneezing five minutes late gets you the "Come to my office" death stare. This meme's the spotlight on that twisted reality, like catching your reflection in a funhouse mirror—it's amusingly warped. 🤪 So, there you have it, a world where work's a circus and the memes are your popcorn. Remember, even when life hands you spreadsheets, you can always turn them into comic strips! 🎪🍿🤹‍♀️# When Work Becomes a Circus 🎪 Isn't it just wild to think we could have a world where we're all sipping coconut water on a beach, but nooo, we're stuck juggling spreadsheets in this crazy work culture instead. 🏖️🥥 Work, my friends, can be a real beast. I mean, who needs an alarm clock when your boss's emails can give you heart palpitations? But hey, if you're ready for a chuckle between those conference calls, brace yourselves for these uproarious work memes! Time Warp: 7 Hours = 7 Minutes ⏰ Imagine, you stroll into your office, park your behind, and dive into the email abyss. Suddenly, it feels like you've aged a century, but in reality, it's just been seven minutes. 😱 That guy in the meme? His face is like a Picasso painting of a worker bee who's slaved for hours only to realize it's barely snack o'clock. Karen vs. The Manager: A Tale of Equine Wisdom 🐴 Ah, the Karen, that mystical creature that prowls in stores, demanding to see the manager. But guess what, horses have cracked the code! They've shown us the hoof-stomping truth: when Karen corners the manager, it's like ordering a pizza with extra karma—same response, different toppings. 🍕 If only we could neigh our way out of customer conundrums! Endless Meeting, Enter That Guy 🗣️ Ever been trapped in a meeting that felt like a never-ending accordion solo? Finally, you see the light at the end of the boring tunnel, until that guy pulls a verbal rabbit out of his hat, and suddenly time implodes. Now that's a disappearing act no one asked for. 🎩 Zen and the Art of Nature Vacuuming 🍃 Let's talk about the art of looking busy when the boss hovers by. This meme? It's a masterpiece! A woman vacuuming nature—because nothing says productivity like tidying up the great outdoors. I bet her resume says "Mother Earth's Personal Housekeeper." 🌍 Death's Grin and The Great Escape ☠️ Work blues got you wondering what life's all about? Well, this meme says death's a big upgrade, ‘cause you'll never need to face a spreadsheet again. The happy cadaver's smile says, "I’m free from meetings and memos!" 😄 Remember, folks, even death seems more appealing than Excel sometimes! When Work Multiplies Like Gremlins 🧟‍♂️ Picture this: you slog like a champ, only to discover your reward is more work. Surprise, it's the job version of getting a second pet gremlin that comes with zero instructions. 😩 Our man's hidden expression mirrors the reality of working, where hard work's treated like a buffet—everything's piled onto your plate. Faxes in a Time Machine 📠 Ever been asked to send a fax in the era of smartphones and AI? It's like asking a hamster to fix your car. But some folks still cling to their fax machines like they're the golden ticket to job security. This meme’s here to make us wonder, "Do these fax lovers also send carrier pigeons?" 🐦 The Couch Potato of Corporate Chaos 🍿 Behold, the dude chilling as the office combusts around him! This is the face of someone who warned everyone that a clown car couldn't fit through the door, but no one listened. Now all he can do is grab popcorn and watch the circus. 🤡 The Pun-slinging Office Hero 🦸‍♂️ Who doesn’t love a good pun? This guy’s a master of cheesy office banter. It's like a marathon of punchlines in a 3-second sprint. Bet he can turn any dull meeting into a stand-up show, complete with laughter sound effects. 🎤🎵 Friday's Freedom vs. Monday's Mess 🎉🧹 Friday's here, and you're mentally moonwalking out of the office. Papers fly like confetti; you're the mess-maker extraordinaire! But hold on a second—Monday isn't exactly your cleanup crew. You're the superhero that left the city in chaos, only to return as the janitor. 🦸‍♂️🧼 The Great Workplace Hypocrisy 🕰️ Ah, the workplace double standard, where staying late goes unnoticed, but sneezing five minutes late gets you the "Come to my office" death stare. This meme's the spotlight on that twisted reality, like catching your reflection in a funhouse mirror—it's amusingly warped. 🤪 So, there you have it, a world where work's a circus and the memes are your popcorn. Remember, even when life hands you spreadsheets, you can always turn them into comic strips! 🎪🍿🤹‍♀️ Read the full article

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kegstandking · 4 years

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billy facts:

tho i headcanon his middle name to be dean his true, full name is billy ‘tits out’ hargrove. cuz his tiddies always out. they cannot be contained.

#♔ℬ —— ooc #♔ℬ —— it's shitpost o'clock my dudes (crack)#[ facts only here folks ]

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ageofevermore · 4 years

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Lights Up

summary → in which Harry hates that the two of you can’t enjoy a night on the town without the blinding lights of paparazzi

word count → 1.3k

warning(s) → mentions of the current pandemic, mask wearing if that somehow triggers you, the slightest implication of paternal guilt, parenting is hard folks

request → @gwen-and-harry ‘could you possibly do a fic where maybe they get swarmed with paps and they try to cover goldie’s face or something and get defensive??’

add yourself to my taglist

In all honesty, you should have expected this. It was never ideal, but it was the life of an up and rising music celebrity who happened to fall away from the public eye for months. You couldn't deny that the time Harry spent locked away with you and Goldie was blissful, but it had lead to a craze of deprived fans and entertainment outlets practically putting a bounty on his head. That's how you ended up here, outside of Nobu with Goldie and an enraged Harry, desperate to keep the flashing lights from yours and her eyes.

It started earlier that afternoon, when Harry had proposed a date night with you and the little love. You had flown out to Malibu weeks ago through a private airline, Harry hoping to maintain some level of secrecy with you and Goldie. He had rented a beach front property for the weeks leading into September, ready to spend countless dusks and dawns with the both of you. Well, your visit to America was coming to an end within the month, and Harry figured you might as well take advantage of the high class restaurants nearby.

You had booked a seven-thirty dinner reservation, and had specifically asked for a table in the back and a need-to-know status. You wanted nothing slipping through the cracks of the industry, and yet somehow that had happened anyway despite the high end service Nobu was providing you with.

Harry was bent down over Goldie's high chair when you noticed the first glint of silver in the distance, contracting the warm tone yellow and golden hues of Nobu's known aesthetic. Your baby was nearly asleep on herself, little fingers and face a mess of overpriced chocolate from the ice cream and cake you had spooned her. Harry had brought a wipe down to her, shushing her whines and wiggles while he cleaned up her sticky features. When he pulled her out of the seat and into his lap, you noticed a definite ruffle in the bushes. At first your heart stopped with the irrational thought of a violent ambush, but when a camera came into view and your worry turned to anger.

"You alright, Petal?" He asked, adorning green pools looking you over with worry. Your loose features had tightened considerably since ordering a round of coffee. His gaze broke when Goldie shifted against his chest, little hand pushing into his suit and laying against his skin, but you knew you still had his attention. He had a way of multi-tasking when it came to the two of you.

"There's a bunch of them outside." You enlightened, eyes looking over your fussy baby who was trying to get comfortable against her father's expensive suit. The sight of her always calmed you, but that was proving unsuccessful now. "We should go before she's asleep and they wake her."

The idea of so many flashing lights in your daughters face was unsettling, and entirely intrusive. She was untouched by the traces of harsh media, shared through approved pictured and short clips. You hadn't prepared for such an invasive encounter yet.

Harry didn't object, thankful that the bill had been paid when your round of desert was cleared from the table. He flagged down the nearest waiter, asking for the coffee to be forgotten, and with a vote of confidence for the both of you, stood from the table. His hand found the small of your back quickly, leading you through the restaurant with a clenched jaw and tight hold around Goldie.

"Her eyes, Harry." You reminded softly, uneasy when his hand left your back and instead went to your daughters head, pushing her face into his neck gently. The both of you were lucky enough to have masks covering the majority of your face, concealing the anger written across your locked jaws, but Goldie didn't. You faintly heard her whine at the shift of temperature when the glass doors were pushed open, but Harry shushed her quickly with a few pats on the back.

It had taken only moments for the dark streets of Malibu to light up with white flashes. Your eyes watered at the abrupt change in lighting, and unconsciously your arms locked around Harry's bicep. He looked down at you quickly, flexing his muscles beneath your hold as a way of reassurance. His hand was still holding Goldie's face to his neck, knowing your baby was as curious as he was.

Harry cursed beneath his breath when a particular flash blinded him, sending a deep fluttering sensation through his stomach when he couldn't make out a clear path towards the car. You knew he never liked feeling trapped, or like he couldn't get the lot of you to privacy quickly and safely. It also didn't help that despite the masks, the paps were not abiding by social distancing guidelines.

"We've got a baby, mate. Can you please back up?" You called softly, maternal instincts blazing at the sight of four or five media outlets treating you and Harry as nothing more then paychecks. You were sure a high resolution snap of Goldie was worth all the same as one of you, which was borderline infuriating.

You had chosen this life at seventeen years old, Harry just a year younger. You had both grown up in dainty English towns, wholesome experiences and tight budgets with a clear and chosen career path in sight. That was everything you had dreamed of sharing with your children, and yes, Harry had built an empire for himself and invited you along, but it meant that in times of desperate privacy you were denied. The industry came with just as many losses as it did wins, if not more.

Goldie let out a strangled whine, nose running along Harry's collarbone as she wiggled. It was nearing nine forty-five, hours after her seven o'clock bedtime, so you weren't surprised by her irritated huffs and whimpers. Usually, she could fall asleep anywhere, but it would be hard for anyone to sleep through the blinding flashes and camera shutters.

"Daddy's got ya, moppet." Harry's voice traveled smoothly through your memory, his light kisses to her crown not doing the trick anymore as gentle cries bubbled in her chest. That was all it took for Harry to see red, barely keeping his head on straight as the photographers acted as though they were heartless.

Harry had an understanding for their line of work, but that didn't mean he was any less appreciative towards their invasive tendencies. He knew that sometimes you were desperate for a paycheck, that these men had families at home they were trying t support. But, hardly ever did they show any compassion towards his own family. "Shh, come on now, Goldie. You're okay." He mumbled, lifting her higher in his arms, making sure to keep her eyes away from the flashes.

"Seriously, give us some space." Your words were coated in venom as you reached up to adjust the mask over your nose, feeling less then protected by the close proximity of frantic strangers.

Maybe it was the edge to your tone, or just that they'd maxed out their storage, but all at once the crown dispersed around the pair of you. You were left with a few stragglers, but they were respectful in a sense that they abided by the CDC requested guidelines of six or more feet apart. The flashes didn't start when you got to the rented black SUV, though you were thankful for the tinted windows.

Harry managed to get Goldie into her car seat with only a few tears, and once the door was closed it was like a weight from within you was lifted. You climbed into the passenger seat, looking over at Harry when he closed the drivers side door and breathed out deeply and guiltily.

"Hey," You whispered, laying a hand on his and searching in the darkness for the gentle green of her endless pools. "It's not your fault. It's never your fault."

#fine line #fine line series #dad!harry #Harry Styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #goldie styles #this ending is kinda rushed pls don't come for me #i wanted to get this out bc ive been promising it for weels

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failedintsave · 3 years

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Ok fine, fine ok. It's Nategaar hours around here today, and I need it to stay out of my current project so here's me purging it from my system til it resurfaces with vengeance in probably like a day.

You Spin Me Round

The rattling of the window panes was audible even over the bass of Murderface's boom box, rain blowing almost horizontally in tropical storm gales. But seasoned Floridians weren't afraid of a little stormy weather, as proven by the groups of drenched partygoers who continued to filter through the door of their crowded apartment.

Nathan weaved his way through the sea of bodies, returning from the keg with four Solo cups balanced overhead, trying his best not to spill everything down his arms. He squeezed into the corner where most of his band stood gathered around a wooden cable spool he'd taken from his dad's hardware shop, the tabletop littered with a scattered deck of cards, an overflowing ashtray at it's center.

"Who the fuck are some of these people?" He grumbled as he approached, passing out beers to waiting hands.

"Shit, man, idunnoe. I invited some chicks from deh show, and I know Magnus told some folks to come back, but deh rest?" Pickles shrugged. "Stuffs closin' fer deh weather I think, people lookin' fer something ta do."

He grunted, handing a cup over to Murderface next to him before reaching across the table to pass the last beer to Skwisgaar wedged between two fawning groupies.

"Shoulda put someone at the door to take money for cups, they're draining the keg." He took a slug of foamy beer, glaring down into the contents. "And there's no room to play games or do anything."

"Juscht play drink-the-beer, who needsch a game for that?"

"Auuuggh that's boring. And besides, I'm really good at that game and we'll run out of beer faster."

"He ams gots a good points."

Pickles rubbed his chin in consideration before snapping his fingers, a proverbial lightbulb going off over his head. "I gaht it."

He scurried off, slipping easily through the throng of bodies towards his room. They watched him disappear, barely a glimpse of fiery red hair visible over the shoulders of their so-called guests. After a few minutes he reappeared with a Cheshire grin and a green bottle of whiskey. He held up his first two fingers, a single die pinched between them.

"Alright, I've gaht a game fer us. First step, we empty dis bottle." He cracked the top and handed it to Nathan. "As you were deh inspiration fer dese shenanigans, you may do de honors."

"Perfect." Nathan tipped the bottle back and took a long pull, passing it off to Murderface to share around the circle as Pickles continued.

"Next t'ings, we need a couple extra players, ot'erwise dis will get real predictable quick." He stood on tiptoes, waving over a few familiar faces from their show. He flagged Magnus down, but the guitarist didn't move.

"What do you want?" He shouted across the room.

"Come play a game!"

"What game?"

"Russian roulette, whaddya think? A party game!"

"What game?" Magnus repeated, moving slightly closer.

"Spin deh bottle!"

That stopped Magnus in his tracks. "Nope. Not this again. Fool me once, shame on you. Hard pass."

Murderface sputtered as he handed off the bottle down the line. "Hold on, what wasch that?!"

Ignoring him, Pickles threw his arms up at the goateed guitarist. "Why not?!" Magnus shook his head and turned back, melting into the crowd. "Ah yeh fuckin' killjoy, fine den!"

Nathan frowned, tracking the bottle's progress around the circle. "Uh, Pickles. Why exactly did you think we'd wanna play that? Together? Do we look like middle schoolers?"

"It's fun! Dere's stakes!" He slapped the die onto the table, smirking around at his audience. "Me an' Tony an' de guys made up dis version back in deh day."

Skwisgaar wiped his mouth on the back of a slender wrist, handing the liquor down to the woman next to him. "Sos you always play deh kissingk games wif your bands?" To Nathan's ear he didn't sound put off, merely curious.

Murderface, meanwhile, was less impressed. "That'sch totally gay! We can't play thisch together, what'sch wrong with you?!"

"Eh, it's just a goof we made up, touring ain't all blowjobs and snortin' coke off tits, sometimes ya just wanna have fun." Pickles reached out and poked Murderface in the belly. "Wouldja lemme finish explainin' deh rules before ya quit?"

The bottle made it's way back to the drummer and he tilted his head back for several long chugs, holding the glass up to the light and sloshing the liquid around. He nodded and handed it off to Nathan again with a wink. Frowning, Nathan took another long draw. He wasn't going to be the first of them to back down from this idea, even if it was stupid.

"Okey, so here's why dis game is different. Dere's two parts." He indicated the die and the bottle with a flourishing gesture. "First you roll de dice. On a one, two er three, it's normal rules. Little smackaroonie. No big deal. Four an' five, ya elevate it a little bit. Makeout, pull some hair, whatever."

"Oooookaaay I think maybe Murderface was right about this." Nathan looked around at his bandmates. True there were almost twice as many girls at the table than them, but he wasn't sure he cared for the odds.

"Schee?!"

"Oh waaaaah, you buncha babies! Yer the one who said you were bored! Let's see whet you can come up with!"

"I'll plays."

Nathan's head jerked to face Skwisgaar across the table. The blonde wore an amused smirk as he focused on Pickles, a faint flush on his cheeks from the alcohol. He cocked his head to the side, accepting the drummer's challenge, golden waves cascading over his shoulder as he moved. Of course that smug bastard would play, this game sounded like a routine Thursday for him.

With a heavy sigh, Nathan's eyes shifted back to the drummer. "Alright. So what's six?"

Pickles grinned impishly. "Oh we call six 'Make It Look Good.' Thirty seconds on deh clock or til ev'rybody else makes ya stahp."

"What the actual fuck, Pickles."

"Ah-ah! Lemme finish! You have options!" He ticked off on his fingers. "One through three you can skip fer a shot. Four an' five you chug a beer. And six…"

The group around the table leaned as one, craning their necks expectantly in the drummer's direction. His eyes flashed as he snickered.

"If you want outta six, yeh gotta run a naked lap around the apartment building."

Thunder boomed outside as if to punctuate the final rule.

"Schon of a bitsch. We need more schotsch if we're doing thisch. I'm gonna get fucked up."

Pickles produced a second bottle and slammed it down on the table in front of him.

"Where were you keeping that?"

"Don't ask questions, are we playin' or what?"

The initial bottle finished it's second loop, landing in Nathan's palm again. With a grunt, he slugged the last of the booze and slammed the bottle onto it's side in the center of the table.

"God I wish there was room to play pong right now…" he picked up the dice and rolled.

The game didn't go nearly as badly as he'd expected, and after several rounds of making out with hot girls and taking shots to avoid kissing his bandmates Nathan was really starting to enjoy himself. Defying statistics, the only six rolled so far had been between two of the girls, and they'd all cheered like hooligans.

And then the fickle dice gods reconsidered their influence.

"Alrights, my toirns." Skwisgaar, who hadn't yet opted out of any of his rolls but was starting to get fairly tipsy regardless, snatched up the dice and shook it in Nathan's face, squinting one eye and grinning. He dropped it, four pips staring back up at him. Laughing, he gave the bottle a rapid spin.

It whirled and Nathan found himself holding his breath, eyes glued to the bottle, a little confused about what he was hoping would happen. Slowly, slowly the neck of the bottle came to rest pointing at Pickles.

"Uh-ohhhh, ya think the keg is tapped? Ya might be outta luck pal." The drummer laughed, pumping pierced brows at the blonde.

"Pfffft, shuts up." Skwisgaar leaned past one of the giggling girls, seizing a handful of Pickles' shirt and hauling him forward into an open-mouthed kiss. Nathan stared as they pulled apart, his skin heating and head swimming with whiskey.

"Well okey den," Pickles stroked his chin, nodding sagely. "Now I see whet all deh fuss is about, nyeheheh."

Swaying upright again, Skwisgaar clumsily flung his hair back over his shoulder. "Whats can I says, I ams a master ats everyt'ings I dedicates my times to."

"Scho like, two thingsch."

"Ams better den no t'ings."

"Hey!"

Nathan zoned out, staring at the table for the next few turns, snapped back to attention by Murderface's repeated 'No, no, no no!' as Pickles rolled a three and landed on him.

"A'right, yer turn Nate." The drummer smirked, sliding the bottle and the die across the table.

"Ugh, are we still playing this? When is it over?"

"Aw aments Nat'ans havingk any funs?"

He raised his eyes to the willowy guitarist across from him. Skwisgaar's thin arms were crossed over his chest, hip popped jauntily to the side. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his high forehead from the dense mugginess of the apartment, a teasing smile playing over his lips, bruised pink from being crushed against Pickles'. With an effort, Nathan tore his gaze away and redirected it towards the table.

"Fine. Whatever." He started the bottle spinning with more force than necessary, rolling the dice as it rotated.

Six.

Shit.

The rest of the table was already hooting in glee as the bottle spun down, slowing, taking an agonizingly long time to stop. Finally it came to rest at twelve o'clock.

Pointing at Skwisgaar.

The table erupted.

"OH SCHIT! Can't drink your way outta thisch one!"

"Nyeeeeheheheheh! Now's tha real show!"

"Oh dear sweet lord." Nathan covered his face with his hands, cheeks burning already.

"Hey you have an advantage, everything he does looks good."

"Why t'anks you, what was you names again? Monicas?"

"Yeh could always take the second option agin?" Pickles offered, biting back a laugh as he patted Nathan's shoulder.

His heartbeat throbbed in his ears, and something like pre-show jitters fluttered in his stomach, arms and legs tingling.

"Huehuehuehhue, ams lookingk pretty nastys out dere." Skwisgaar's drunken chuckle was underlined by another peal of thunder, window panes jumping in their casings. "Yous gonna gets blowed away."

Fuck that.

He dropped his hands away from his face, narrowing his eyes at the smirking blonde. "Fine. You dildoes want a show?"

His audience yelped as he reached down, grabbing the edge of the wooden spool and throwing it aside, playing cards and ashtray scattering to the floor, bottle toppling to the ground and shattering. Nathan lunged forward, relishing the shocked widening of blue eyes before impact.

Fighting against muscle memory of past football tackles, he grappled Skwisgaar against his broad chest, wrapping his arms beneath the other man's flailing limbs, his palms cradling bony shoulder blades. He walked the blonde backwards into the corner, pressing him into the wall.

"Timer! Start deh count!"

"No don't, I've scheen enough already, augh!"

As Skwisgaar recovered from the initial shock of being sacked, the natural showman in him awoke. Fire coursed over Nathan's scalp as calloused fingers threaded into his hair, holding his head steady as Skwisgaar turned to deepen the kiss. Nathan's clenched jaw unlocked and his lips parted before he could overthink it.

"...seven, eight, nine..!"

The sound of their onlookers counting faded into the background, drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears. He pushed a knee forward between Skwisgaar's thighs, catching a long leg as it wrapped behind his and hiking it up to his hip, leaving the blonde standing one legged like an albino flamingo.

"...fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen..!"

Skwisgaar bit down on Nathan's bottom lip and something in him broke, a cage door swinging open on its hinges. A growl rumbled in his chest as he reached down and grabbed the guitarist's other leg, hauling it up to his waist, lifting the other man from the floor as easily as he would carry groceries up from his car.

"... twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…!"

Fingers clawed into the material of his shirt, scratching against his back. The sudden urge to carry Skwisgaar away from the party, to drag him back to his cave like a neanderthal, blindsided Nathan and his muscles locked. Sensing the end of their performance, Skwisgaar sighed into his mouth, the pressure of his lips softening as he started to pull back.

"Thirty! Dat's time!" Pickles howled a laugh. "Holy shit guys, dat's game. Ain't nobody gonna top dat act, even if you hadn't broke deh bottle!"

Nathan opened his eyes as they broke off, the heated blue gaze in front of him driving any and all coherent thoughts from his brain. Gingerly, he released one of Skwisgaar's legs, then the other, white boots touching down on the floor, toe-heel, toe-heel. Standing once again under his own power, a slow, crooked smile stretched across Skwisgaar's face, a breathy chuckle shaking his shoulders once. It took every ounce of willpower Nathan possessed to tear his eyes away from the curve of those full lips, and he turned to face the other two members of his band.

Murderface had his eyes squeezed closed, cracking one to peek. "Isch it over? Are they done?"

Frowning, Nathan grunted through his nose like a bull, stomping forward to snatch the second bottle of liquor from the bassist's hands. Glass crunched beneath his boots as he retreated wordlessly to his bedroom, passing Magnus on the way out.

The older guitarist shook his head, curly mane swishing. "I coulda told ya… every time Pickles tries to pl--"

"Just. Don't." Nathan pushed through the hall, evicting the gaggle of strangers standing around in his room and slamming the door behind him.

Hours later, after the storm had slowed to only a downpour and the party had fizzled out, Nathan lay awake on his back, staring at the ceiling. From the second his door had closed behind him, his brain had flipped from a crawl to light speed, hurtling through thousands of moments from the last couple of years, all of them centered on interactions with his lead guitarist. Slender fingers brushing against his own as he passed the tv remote, blonde hair tickling against his arm as they drove with the windows down, the nervous fluttery feeling in his belly at the sound of a dorky, throaty chuckle.

Nathan ground the heels of his palms against his eye sockets hard enough to see stars. How long? When did these thoughts start popping up? And when had he started stomping them down, locking them away without acknowledgement? Sure, Skwisgaar was hot, he wasn't blind, he could admit that much. But this wasn't that, this was...he didn't know what this was.

But he needed to find out.

Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he crept out to the door directly across the hall. He started to knock, then paused, not wanting to wake anyone else in the apartment. Nathan turned the knob and cracked the door enough to wedge his face into the gap.

"Hey. Psst. Skwisgaar, you in here?" Another thought struck him, an irrational jealous pang vibrating through him. "Uh, you alone?"

The red glow of a digital clock was the only source of light in the guitarist's bedroom, a faint silhouette shifted on the bed, backlit in flashes by the blinking 12:00.

"Nat'ans?" came a groggy voice from the covers. "What ams you doing up? What times am it?" He rolled to check the useless clock and groaned in exasperation.

"Can... can I..?" He didn't wait for an invitation, stepping inside and closing the door behind him, leaning back against it and clutching the door knob like an anchor.

As his eyes adjusted he could see Skwisgaar sit up, scrubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wake up. Nathan chewed his bottom lip, the flesh tender in an not-unpleasant way. For the second time tonight his mind blanked on him completely.

"What's de matters?"

He swallowed. "Uh."

"Nat'ans?"

"Uhhhh."

Skwisgaar waited, studying him in the dark, giving him time to organize his thoughts. It was something Nathan had always appreciated about the Swede, having (mostly) learned a second language, he understood the occasional difficulties Nathan ran into expressing himself verbally.

"I uh. Earlier."

"Ja."

"I didn't. I didn't think that."

Skwisgaar shifted on the bed, turning to fully face Nathan, still waiting patiently.

"That it would…"

"Hm?"

Nathan inhaled deeply through his nose, forcing the last words out in a rush. "Wouldbelikethatthefirstime."

He waited, certain that Skwisgaar would brush it off, dismiss it as nothing, a game. Or worse, that he'd laugh. Nathan held his breath, ready to bolt in embarrassment. This was stupid, he was stupid, what had be been thinking, it had been a game, it meant nothing.

"Ams you sayingk you wants a do-overs?"

He could hear the smile in the other man's voice, cadence low and teasing, but without cruelty. Playful.

"I-I uh." He'd used up his words for the day, instead opting for a jerky nod.

A ghostly white hand reached out in the dark, forefinger crooking, beckoning him.

"Come heres den." As Nathan shuffled forward he could see Skwisgaar's eyes shining like a cat's. "Ams a firm believer dats practice make perfects."

#skwisgaar skwigelf #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #william murderface #dethklok #metalocalypse #nategaar #the tickets were confusing how did i board this ship?#this game is a version i played in my early 20s #you know the days when everyones dumb and extra h*rny 😳#anyway that's the fic let them all kiss ok bye

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araiz-zaria · 2 months

Text

Форма Головы Барклаи(??)

(aka. The shape of Barclay's head(??))

"Egg!" Haha!

"hehehehehe hehehehe!"

...and the sorrowful aftermath 🥲↓

"My head is not an egg..." 😭😭😭 . . (ko-fi)

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vldkeith · 3 years

Text

Dolphin Kisses

a/n: This fic is based/inspired from my experience at this boat ride thing I went on some time ago and I just klance-ified it lol. Anyways this whole fic is just some super cheesy stuff my brain barfed up and yeah, I have nothing else to say besides enjoy <33 -Klance Day

☆°☆°☆° ☆

Lance wanted to go on a date with Keith; but not just any date. The perfect date. So Lance finds himself in front of the wheel, driving Keith to the oceanfront. It was a really pleasant day outside. The scent of the salty sea grew stronger as the scenery changed from suburban family homes to tourist attraction stops and stores. Radio songs hummed in the background and filtered out from the open car windows. Lance peeks at his right to Keith, just to make sure that he was having a good time. “‘You excited to be on a boat, mullet?” he asks cheerfully. “For the last time, Lance, I don’t know. It’s my first time.” “I know, I know. You’re worried about getting seasick,” Lance nonchalantly waves off. “But not to worry, babe. If you feel the slightest weakness, don’t be hesitant to fall into my arms.“ Keith scoffs at his dramatics. “Sure.” ☆°☆°☆° They finally reach The White Lion boat ride dock, and Lance parks the car on the old, cracking concrete below it. The two walk out and start heading towards the ticket and tour center, but to be honest, the “center” was more of a big shack with dull yellow and pink paint peeling right off of it. Lance pulls out his phone and shows the lady at the front desk his reservation time. She nods wordlessly and hands him two white tickets. Lance smiles and runs back to Keith, waving the paper slips in the air. “Let’s go!” He points towards the line on the dock to the boats. A few boats line the edge of the water. Lance motions his hand to the purple one with waves. “That’s the boat we’re getting on." Keith grins and scoots a little closer to Lance as more people fill up the wooden platform. Lance plants a light kiss on his head. A few minutes later, a bulky man walks by the clustered line. "The 4:30PM White Lion’s Roar boat tour has been canceled due to an engine malfunction,” he starts. Lance’s heart drops to his shoes and frowns. He glances at Keith, who wears a similar expression. “You can get refunds at the ticket center and come back another day, or book for a another boat at a later time,” the man finishes. “We are sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused. Have a good evening.” As soon as the man walks away, dissapointed murmers ripple throughout the crowd. They all start to disperse and head towards the ticket desk. “I’m sorry,” Lance sighs. So much for a perfect date, he thinks. “It’s okay,” Keith comforts. “We can just go on another boat.” He grabs Lance’s arm and tugs as they walk back to get new tickets. This time, Keith is at the desk, and Lance stays back. He blows out a puff of air, slightly smiling at his boyfriend. Sometimes, he still can’t believe that they’ve been dating for almost four months now. Keith reaches back to Lance to show off their new tickets. He starts to explain, “I got another boat tour for five o'clock. Don’t worry it’s the same price and we got refunded from the first tickets. It’s a slower boat, but it goes farther, and it garuntees dolphin sightings.” Lance smirks. “That’s my Keith,” he responds. ☆°☆°☆° Twenty minutes later, a new line has fully formed for the new, bigger boat. Two kids and a grandma are chattering beside Lance and Keith. “Look, there’s a Poké-Spot on the boat!” one of the kids cheers. “Quit your Pokémon Go-ing,” the grandma snaps. Lance chuckles and turns his attention back to Keith. Soon, people began boarding. Right before they stepped on the boat, a young lady with a White Lion t-shirt stops the two boys. “Excuse me sirs,” she raises her camera. “But we are offering pictures for the boat ride that you can purchase at the end of the ride. Would you like to take a picture?” “Sure,” Lance replies as he wraps his arm around Keith and makes a peace sign with his free hand. “Smile!” The lady clicks her camera. “Thank you for choosing The White Lion boat tours,” she welcomes. ☆°☆°☆° Lance and Keith both decided beforehand that they wanted to go to the second floor of the boat, so they scurry quickly up the stairs in hopes to get a good spot. Thankfully, they manage to grab spots at the front. Lance sits down on the bench and Keith plops right beside him. As soon as the boat starts humming, a voice comes to the speakers. “Hello, and welcome to The White Lion’s Pounce boat tour,” a supposedly Australian man cheers. “My name is Coran, and I will be your guide on this trip. Firstly, let’s go over some safety rules.” The man goes on to explain where the life jackets are, what to do if you feel seasick, and other various things to know when on a boat. Lance can tell the Keith’s attention has already wandered from the peppy voice’s informative talks. Right now, Keith is staring out onto the long stretch of water before them, and Lance couldn’t help but smile. “But Lance! I don’t even like the beach!” He could still hear Keith’s complaints from a couple days ago. “It will be fun, babe! New experiences and all,” Lance persuaded. “Besides, I already bought the tickets, so we have to go.” Lance’s pleading worked, of course. It’s just his natural charming boyfriend skills. ☆°☆°☆° The boat finally made its way out of the dock and through the mouth of the small river into the ocean. People fishing on the edge of the big rocks and stones waved as the boat went by. Eventually, Lance stands up to the railing, and looks out. The boat was gently gliding on the water, rocking slightly with the dips and peaks of the waves. Keith joins him in a little bit, placing his hand over Lance’s, which was already on the rail. Now, the scene was different. The boat is gliding at a steady pace parallel to the boardwalk. From the distance, the people, umbrellas, towels, and small tents looked like blended spots dotting the long stretch of beach. Behind them stood hotels and restaurants varying in size, color, and shape. Lance spots a Marriot, a Hilton, and a Holiday Inn as they pass by. The Marriot looked the newest with its glassy, black exterior. Soon, the long and busy boardwalk mellowed down to the more open, lesser used beach. Hotels turned into private rental houses, and the crowds faded. Lance pointed to a small lilac house. “'You wanna stay there someday for a vacation?” he jokingly asks Keith. The other boy scoffs in response. “As if. More than a day at this sandy giver of salt and sunburns and I will actually die.” Lance giggles. “Okay, you vampire.” Keith glances away as his mouth turns upwards in a slight grin. ☆°☆°☆° A few more minutes pass when the boat halts to an even slower turtle’s pace. The speakers crackle as Coran begins to speak. “We are approaching our dolphin sight-seeing spot, folks!” he says with almost too much enthusiasm. “While you keep your eyes peeled for them, take a moment to look again in front of you to our very own Seagull’s Peak Lighthouse! Originally built in…” Lance’s ears blocks out the rest because his eyes are busy darting around for any signs of dolphins. Finally, a gray fin popped up from the water. “Dolphin!” Lance yells. Keith turns his head around to where Lance’s eyes were staring. “'Looks like we spotted our first dolphins! Ladies and gentlemen, look out for more.” The crowd oohed and ahhed as more and more dolphins appear splash around the boat. Coran continues, talking more about the dolphins. Lance spots Keith grinning excitedly at the intermittent dolphins. He smiles to himself, content with the fact that his boyfriend was enjoying this too. ☆°☆°☆° Eventually, the boat turned around and they were heading back the way they came. Keith had prompted that both of them go downstairs for a change, and Lance happily agreed. The boat was shaking and rocking back and forth as it made its way through the water, so it was hard to balance when walking. Fortunately, Keith and Lance had each other’ hands to hold on to, so they walk to and down the stairs and towards the front much easier. “Woah,” Keith gasps when he sees rests his hands on the railing, looking on to the ocean from a much closer view. “Yeah. This thing’s going pretty fast, isn’t it?” Keith opens his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a random child squealing. “Mommy! Look it’s a rainbow!” Keith and Lance look up to see a faded, but visible arch of colors that the girl was pointing too. Other families took notice and began to stare in awe. “That’s kinda gay,” Lance jokes, lightheartedly jabbing Keith’s side with his elbow. Keith snickers along. He smirks, arching an eyebrow. “You think?” ☆°☆°☆° “And that concludes our boat ride! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for choosing the White Lion! Photos are available for purchase at the docking point of the boat. Have a wonderful evening.” The speakers crackle again after the announcement before playing random pop songs as it did at the beginning of the tour. Soon, the air fills with sounds chatting and talking as the passengers filed out of the boat onto the dock. Lance and Keith were among one of the last people to go out, so it was less crowded when they finally step onto the platform. The lady from before handed them their photo from the start of the trip, and soon, the two were back in the car. This time, Keith was in the driver’s seat. “So,” Lance starts. “How did you like it?” he asks in a sing song voice. “It was good,” Keith responds, putting on his seat belt. He should have been happy, but Lance deflates from how monotone Keith sounded. “That’s all?" Keith must have taken notice of Lance’s grimace because he quickly rushed to add a supposedly forced, "It was great! The dolphins and rainbow were very cool!” “I thought you were enjoying it,” Lance reprimands, his lips pursed and brows tight. “I guess not.” “No, Lance, it’s not like that,” Keith trails. “I had a really good time.” “You don’t have to lie about it.” Keith pouts in response, but doesn’t press any further. He plugs the key into the car, and they leave the parking lot in silence. ☆°☆°☆° Lance stares out the window, taking in the busy streets of the oceanfront. He expects that in a few minutes, the sight would be gone as they leave the area, but as more time passes, it seems that they were going deeper in. “Hey, are you sure we’re going the right way?” Lance asks, not even moving his head to face Keith. “Yes.” He hears in response. “But it looks like we’re heading towards the beach,” Lance counters, finally turning his attention to his boyfriend. “It almost seems like that’s the point,” Keith replies, voice sarcastically high. “Are you taking us…?” Lance doesn’t finish his sentence, and Keith doesn’t bother to fill it in. ☆°☆°☆° The car comes to a halt on a sandy parking lot. A couple of children chase and run around eachother as adults pop open their trunks to take out various beach toys and towels. Keith’s seat belt clicks open, and opens the door to come out. He motions his hands for Lance to come out as well, but Lance was still trying to process what they might even be doing here. “Come on,” Keith drags. “We don’t have all day.” “Okay..” Lance tags the word with suspicion. He steps out and joins Keith. The two walk down the sandy ramp to the actually beach. They walk wordlessly, until finally, they reach the water. Keith plops down on the semi wet sand, and pats down next to him for Lance to follow. He sits down. Now, Lance was throughly confused. “What are we doing here?” He finally asks. “You, like, hate the beach.” “Yeah, but you love it.” Lance’s face flushes when he sees Keith give a small smile. “I thought that I could make it up to you if I brought you here. I’m sorry for not being enthusiastic enough,” Keith mumbles. Lance perks up, and he waves his arms. “No, Keith! I’m sorry. I should have trusted you when you said you were having a good time,” he huffs. “I was just expecting a little more response than a ‘It was good.’ But it’s okay, I know you meant well.” He slowly wraps an arm around Keith and pulls him closer. “Thanks for bringing us here,” Lance whispers into Keith’s hair. “I appreciate it.” The Sun dips behind them, creating a soft blend of blues, oranges, and pinks all around the beach. Waves peacefully crash up and down, creating one of the only noises on the lesser crowded beach. Lance pretends nobody else is there but him and Keith as he leans forward to kiss him. One kiss turned to two, to three, to more than he could keep track of. Soon enough, they were both smiling so hard, none of them could continue. The giggle and hug; Lance only occasionally pressing his lips against Keith’s forehead. “Hey, you,” Lance sighs contently. “Hey.” “'Wanna know a secret?” The other boy smirks. “Yeah.” Lance leans to Keith’s ear before whispering, “I love you.” Keith stifles a laugh. “That wasn’t a secret, idiot.” “But it still made your heart race, didn’t it?” Lance light heartedly retorts. Instead of giving a proper response, Keith pulls Lance in for another kiss. “'Love you too,” he finally says with a barely audible voice. Sometimes Lance wonders what he did to deserve someone as wonderful as Keith. He doesn’t know, and probably never will. That doesn’t stop him from loving Keith, though. He’ll never stop loving Keith.

#voltron #klance #klance fanfiction #lance mcclain #keith kogane #I LOVE IT KLANCE DAY...SO CUTE 🥺🥺🥺#makes me want to go to a beacha sdkjghfdsjkghfjdsk #txt

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elroymeg · 3 years

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Perhaps the Seven were trying to tell him something.

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shinobis-of-ninjago-au · 3 years

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Shinobis of Ninjago

Pilot 2: Ruler of Shadows

Prologue Pilot 1 (Pilot 2-Part 1, Part 2, Part 3), Episode 1

Later in the week, the ninja had neared the final weapon: the Sai of Absorption. The temple they were sealed in was carved out of a dormant volcano deep inside a forest. Mystake had decided to stop about half an hour or so from the temple, wanting her team to be at their best when they retrieved the weapon.

That night, when they made camp, they relaxed. Seliel had brought a set of travel drums and was singing. Nya, Pixal, and Skylor were dancing around the fire, occasionally singing if they knew the words. Mystake had tucked herself away in the corner against a tree and was meditating.

Skylor bent down next to Seliel and whispered something to her. Seliel smiled and nodded. She began to play a different beat, one that was bouncy and folk-like. Skylor began to dance, twisting and turning. She pulled in Nya and Pixal and spun them around a few times. When she finished, the others applauded and began asking her questions.

"That was an Ignacian dance." Skylor explained. "Kids are taught that dance and we perform it at parties and the Harvest Festival. But that was nothing, you should see Jay and I dance together."

Everyone grew quiet, looking to one another. "Umm, who's Jay?" Nya asked.

"Jay, mi hermano. Have I never said his name before?" Her teammates shook their heads and she looked down, ashamed for overlooking such a simple detail.

"It's fine." Seliel shrugged. "As soon as we get the sai, we're going to save your brother. Obećanje." ('Promise.')

Skylor smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

They continued to dance the night away. Sooner or later they fell asleep, letting the fire die out as it was a warm night. They had taken hour shifts and it was Skylor's turn, perhaps around three o'clock in the morning. She sat up against a tree with a little bit of rope, tying it into knots and untying it.

She thought about what she would do when they rescued Jay. She would hug him tightly and probably not let go for the longest time. Skylor sighed, undoing the figure-eight knot she had just done.

"Skylor."

At the sound of her name she looked up. Spotting a shadow in the bushes she stood up. "Who's there?"

"Relájate, soy solo yo." ('Relax, it's only me.')

The konran's face drained of colour as Jay stepped out of the bushes. His clothes were clean, as well as his face and hair. His skin was pale and his eyes were grey, devoid of any colour. Skylor blamed it on the moonlight and stepped forward, too shocked to say anything.

"Tengo que ir." ('I have to go.') Jay whispered. He turned around and disappeared into the bushes. Without thinking, Skylor scrambled after him.

They chased each other through the forest, Jay's giggles echoing through the trees, but they were dull, unlike his usual ones that were filled with life and could get anyone laughing.

Skylor stopped, looking around, for she had lost track of Jay. She groaned, turning around and punching a tree in frustration. How could she have lost him! He was right there.

"¿Jay? ¿Jay, dónde estás?" ('Where are you?') She called, cupping her hands around her mouth.

Hearing a twig snap behind her, she turned seeing Jay with one arm extended. His face was relaxed, no worry visible in colourless eyes. A loose smile formed hollow words, echoey almost.

"¿Vienes, Skylor?" ('Are you coming Skylor?')

Skylor smiled, taking his hand. He led her through the trees, both laughing as they danced under the stars. She wasn't sure how long they were gone from the camp, but at this point, Skylor didn't care. Jay was back.

They stopped dancing, giggles dying down. "Sígueme." ('Follow me.') Jay said before taking off again. She followed him until they reached the dormant volcano where the sai were supposedly located. Skylor stopped, letting Jay enter the volcano as she stared at the temple.

It had been carved into the rock, golden pillars framing the entrance made of red doors. As she walked across the stone bridge, she peered over the side into the water. It was dark, black in the nighttime light.

One of the doors had been cracked open, most likely Jay's doing. Pushing open the door further, Skylor gasped in amazement.

The walls were stone and carved with golden drawings, only reflecting the light from the golden pair of sai that lay on a miniature version of the temple located in the centre.

"Jay?" Skylor's voice echoed through the empty temple. Turning back towards the sai, she found Jay standing in front of them. "Ahí tienes. Vamos vamos a casa." ('There you are. Come on, let's go home.')

Jay tilted his head. "¿Por qué? Me gusta aquí. La maestra ha sido tan agradable". ('Why? I like it here. Master has been so nice.')

"Maestra?" ('Master?') Skylor murmured. "¿Qué estás diciendo? ¿Qué has hecho con mi hermano?" ('What are you saying? What have you done with my brother?')

"No sé de qué estás hablando, hermana, estoy aquí..." ('I don't know what you're talking about, sister, I'm right here.') His voice morphed from hollow to that of a woman's, cold and calm, sending a shiver down Skylor's spine. His body faded, a shadow taking his place on the wall, red eyes shining off the stone.

"Misako." Skylor growled. She reached for her sai, only to realize that her scabbards were empty.

"Forgot something?" Misako asked, a smirk audible in her voice.

"You can't hurt me, you're banished, trapped in the Underworld." Skylor said, trying to hide her shaking hands.

"That is why you are going to remove the Sai of Absorption for me." Misako's shadow shrunk and moved to the side, gesturing to the sai.

Skylor scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. "Yeah, I don't think so. There's no way you can make me do anything."

"Are you sure?"

At the sounds of chains rattling, Skylor looked to the back of the temple. A figure dropped from the ceiling, hanging limply. Skylor's eyes widened in realization and horror before narrowing in anger.

Jay hung there, clothes torn, skin caked in dirt and mud, and hair matted. Cuts were visible on his arms and legs, clothes brown with dried blood in places and a deep gash on his face, running through his right eyebrow and down his cheek. When Skylor called out his name and he didn't respond, she knew he was unconscious, or worse.

"What the hell did you do to him?!" Skylor shrieked, turning on the shadow.

"If you don't remove the sai, how else shall you save your precious little brother?" Misako teased, ignoring the screaming girl in front of her.

They chains dropped, bringing Jay closer to the back of the temple, where it dropped off into the old dormant magma chamber.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock." Misako's voice echoed through the large room, only adding to Skylor's anxiety.

Skylor closed her eyes, forcing back tears. She wasn't going to lose Jay, not again. Taking a deep breath, she mentally went through her plans. She should've woken the others, not run into this without thinking.

Knowing she would regret it, Skylor took off running. Grabbing the sai, she ran up the wall, getting momentum and using it to push off. Grabbing the chain, she stuck one of the sai through a link and broke it. Using one hand to hold onto Jay and the other to the rest of the chain, she started swinging. She knew she probably shouldn't be moving her brother, but having no other option, she let go of him, watching as he landed safely on the other side of the temple.

She swung off after him. Picking him up and tossing him over her shoulder, Skylor started for the doors. Misako's shadow appeared in front of her and she got into a fighting stance.

"You can't hurt me, you're only a maldita shadow." Skylor proclaimed.

Misako hummed and clicked her tongue. "Little girl, you must learn that everything has its uses. Though I must thank you, your brother was very helpful."

"What. Did. You. Do. To. Him."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. I would be more concerned for your own well-being."

Skylor's shadow began to peel off the wall, becoming three-dimensional. Laying Jay on the ground, Skylor pulled out the golden sai. Twirling them in her hands, she lunged forward, only to go right through the shadow. Turning around, she roundhouse kicked it, the move unsuccessful.

Her shadow reached out, grabbing her shoulder. Bringing Skylor close, the shadow brought up its knee into her chest repeatedly. The shadow dropped Skylor to the ground where she doubled over, coughing.

"Am I being too hard?" Misako questioned.

"Not at all." Skylor replied, getting to her feet. She swayed side to side, her vision being filled with spots, but she stayed standing.

Skylor continued to throw punches and kicks at the shadow, including swings with the sai. The shadow in return, threw its own, landing multiple hits. The shadow threw one final punch, sending Skylor spinning back to where Jay was laying.

A bright light appeared on the wall next to the shadow. The konran looked over, seeing a figure standing next to a flashlight. They moved their hands in front of the beam of light, fingers appearing on the wall.

Forming a finger person, the shadow puppet kicked the shadow, sending it skidding back a few feet. The shadow shook its head and ran forward, prepared to attack. The shadow puppet sent another kick, Skylor's shadow flying across the temple before shattering into dust against the wall.

The figure turned off the flashlight, shoving it into a satchel strung over her shoulder, and running over to where Skylor was. She helped the girl to her feet, making sure she could stand before picking up Jay over her shoulder.

"Mystake?" Skylor croaked.

"Yes." She answered. "Come, let's get you and your brother out of here."

"Sister." Misako greeted, voice as calm as ever. "I see you protect one, but what of the other three?"

"They are safe." Mystake replied. "Far from your grasp, Misako."

"I would not be so confident..."

Ignoring her older sister, Mystake turned to Skylor. "My sister must not unite the four weapons. We must keep them apart." She led them past the miniature temple and towards the doors.

"Awaken guardian of the deep!" Misako cried, putting on a facade. "They're stealing the sai! You must not let them escape!"

There was a low rumbling from the back of the temple, deep within the magma chamber. Skylor froze, looking over her shoulder. A dark figure shot out of the hole and soared over top of their heads, landing in front of them, shaking the ground.

Skylor reached over to Mystake, pulling the flashlight out of her satchel and turning it on. The beam fell upon a spiked tail, then a scaled body that moved with every breath of hot air. Wings were stretched out as Skylor moved the beam to the creature's face. Yellow eyes stared down at them, the flashlight reflecting off tips of fanged teeth.

The dragon let out a roar, so loud that Skylor surprised Jay didn't wake up.

"There's no way out. Misako's taken away all our options." Skylor said, voice shaking as the dragon's tail thumped against the ground, sending a shockwave through the temple.

"All but one."

Before Skylor could ask what Mystake meant, Jay was shoved into her arms and the sai in her hands were gone. Turning around, she spotted Mystake standing by the edge of the drop.

Skylor let out a nervous chuckle. "Mystake, what are you doing?"

"If Misako is to bring the weapons here, then I will take the Sai of Absorption to the Underworld. It is my sacrifice to make." Mystake said, pulling out a cloth from her bag and wrapping the sai.

"No, it's mine, I shouldn't have come on my own. There's got to be another way." Skylor pleaded.

Mystake replied by smiling and falling backwards, disappearing into the magma chamber.

"I will see you there, sister." Misako's shadow disappeared, glowing red eyes gone from the wall.

Skylor fell to her knees, flashlight dropping to the ground and turning off. She pulled Jay close, sobbing into his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I messed up. I messed up bad. I shouldn't have come alone. You're hurt, Mystake's gone, I don't know where my team is. I failed." Skylor took a deep, shuddering breath, listening to Jay's faint heartbeat. "I'll be a better sister. Please, I just want you to be okay. I'm sorry."

She curled into a tighter ball, Jay still in her arms and the dragon's hot breath against her neck.

————————————————

Seliel rolled over, for something felt off, though she wasn't sure what. She opened her eyes, squinting in the light. Light? It couldn't have been dawn yet, Skylor should've woken her up a long time ago. Though Seliel knew that the redhead was eager to retrieve the sai and save her brother and would most likely have stayed awake the entire night, they all had enough honour to respect Mystake's orders. Sitting up, she realized her teammates were nowhere to be seen, as was her Sensei.

What she did see was skeletons. Maybe one and a half dozen surrounding their camp. Not taking her eyes off the one in front of her, Seliel reached for her staff, but only getting a fistful of dirt.

The one in front of her, one of the top generals if she remembered correctly, held up her staff, waving it teasingly. Seliel made a move to stand up, but before she could, two skeletons grabbed her arms and began dragging her backwards. Two more were waiting for her, Pixal and Nya in their arms.

A gag was shoved into Seliel's mouth and a cloth tied around her head, keeping it in place. The three ninja were thrown against a tree, rope being pulled tightly around their torsos, binding them to the trunk.

Her eyes drifted over to where Samukai was bent over the golden weapons, examining them. Seeing that they were the real things, she picked them up.

She turned towards the ninja, looking down at them. "I believe these belong to Lady Misako now." She turned back to her troops. "To the Amber Temple!" She ordered. The army cheered, beginning to climb aboard their vehicles. Samukai walked over to hers, but was stopped by a shadow appearing in the tire. Realizing the darker shade and red glowing eyes, Samukai bowed. "Mistress." She greeted.

"My sister has taken the sai to the Underworld. Return immediately and bring the weapons to my hand."

The shadow disappeared, leaving Samukai confused, but she followed her master's orders nonetheless. "To the Underworld!" Samukai shouted, changing plans. "The Dark Lady wants us to return home."

The army cheered once more, climbing into their vehicles: trucks and motorcycles alike. The party sped off, leaving the ninja sneezing in the dust.

Seliel exhaled, something resembling a sigh. Nya began to shift beside her and she peered around the trunk, seeing a glimpse of steel. Nya moved her leg to the side, revealing a sword hidden underneath. She used her leg to slide it up to her hand. Gripping the hilt, Nya used the sword to cut through the ropes. It was slow going, but eventually the ropes snapped.

The shinobis removed the gags from their mouths, breathing deeply.

Seliel ran over, squeezing Nya tightly. "Nya you lijepi genij! ('beautiful genius!')

Nya smiled and flipped her hair playfully. She knew that from Seliel's tone it was a compliment. "I try."

Pixal patted Nya on the back. "Well I must say that was an excellent performance, we might need to save the compliments for later. There are more pressing matters at hand."

Nya and Seliel nodded, following Pixal to where the skeletons had dumped their weapons and bags. Donning all the knives and shurikens they had taken off before going to sleep, they grabbed their main weapons from the pile. Taking to the trees, they set off after the skeletons.

"Hey," Nya said. "Did ya'll see Sensei or Skylor?" Her teammates shook their heads. "Should we go back an' look for them?"

"I think they'll be okay." Seliel assured. "The weapons are our main priority." They stayed quiet as they ran through the trees until Nya started chuckling. "What?"

"Nothing, just... they took the Golden Weapons but left our regular ones lying around. Sometimes I forget how stupid they can be."

Seliel joined in the giggling. "Well, they're skeletons. They don't really have brains."

After a few minutes they reached the main road that led through the forest. Hearing the revving of engines down the road, they followed the noise. Minutes later, the red glow of taillights filtered through the trees, and the three kunoichis picked up their pace.

When the vehicles came into full view, the ninja slowed to match the pace of the vehicles. They could hear Samukai shouting at the drivers to go faster. The motorbikes leading the party disappeared in a flash of light, leaving the bigger vehicles to race through the forest without an escort.

The kishu signaled her team to advance, and the three jumped down. They landed on the largest vehicle—something resembling a monster truck—the one that happened to be housing the Golden Weapons as well as Samukai.

Seliel and Pixal waved at Samukai teasingly, keeping the attention away from Nya. The scout scooted her way along the side of the monster truck, careful not to fall off. The Golden Weapons were stored in a locked cage at the back of the truck, two guards keeping watch.

Grabbing the sash of one of the guards, Nya threw them over the side. Side-kicking the other, she turned to the cage. Reeling her fist back, she punched the lock. "Okay, that's why they make keys." She hissed, waving her hand to ease the pain.

Knowing she would need a lock picking kit and that she left hers at camp, Nya crawled on top of the cage to get one of her teammates' attention. She was met with the end of a staff in the face.

At the sound of something hitting metal, Seliel turned around, taking note of her teammate lying on top of the cage. Taking down one more skeleton with her bo-staff, she knelt down, placing a hand on Nya's back. "Nya! Sorry I didn't see you." Nya sat up and removed the lower part of her mask, her cheek and angry red. Seliel winced. "We'll get that checked out soon."

The truck jolted forward, seemingly going at twice the speed it was before, impossible by human standards. Not used to the speed, the ninja soon lost their grip on the truck, tumbling onto the dirt road. The last of the army disappeared with a flash of light, leaving the three kunoichis coughing in the dust. Nya began to say something, but was hushed by Seliel.

"Save your breath, you don't need to say it. Znam. ('I know.') We've lost."

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gideongrace · 4 years

Text

Words fall from your lips like honey

It's a party like any other except it's not because Steve is there rather than be where he normally is these days, hanging out with his little nerds and doing anything but drinking, or, Billy supposes, having a good time in any sort of way, shape or form.

Nope, here he is, lurking in the background and talking to people like this is a thing he does, like this is just the way he is now, like he's just a guy who hangs out on the sidelines and smiles and something... something about that just gets under Billy's skin, but then something about Steve always has.

Ever since Billy first heard about Steve there's always been something that bothered him - like just how the hell does a guy stumble into being the most popular guy in school and then somehow just stumble right back out again?

Like who does that? And why? Why would you give all of that up? What possible reason could a person have for doing something like that?

'Cause Billy, okay, he knows how he looks and how he acts, he knows, but the thing about that is - it's all on purpose. The way he looks and the way he acts is the outcome of years of careful practice, of watching everyone around him and figuring it all out, figuring out exactly how popular people acted, learning by careful study exactly what to do and spending hours upon hours working on his body, his hair, his clothes, but Steve... it's like Steve just woke up one morning and decided to be popular.

Or maybe the world decided for him, Billy isn't sure. Maybe it was less a choice for Steve and more a consequence of the way his life turned out.

Maybe it was his hair. Maybe it was his money. Maybe it was that big, empty house that probably saw hundreds of parties just like this one, that saw untold amounts of drunken destruction and now only sees a handful of nerds sleeping over in their little sleeping bags; little nerds who at worst might leave a bag of spilled potato chips out until morning. And that's at worst.

Maybe it was for… who knows what. Point is, Steve was popular.

Point is, Steve had it all.

But then, then, just as casual as anything, Steve decided to date some girl (and not even a terribly special or interesting one from what Billy's been able to tell, and he's spent time watching Nancy Wheeler, he's been interested, been curious about what could get a guy like Steve to drop everything and he's seen nothing in her that could ever prompt such behaviour) and just... Steve just... disappeared. Like everything about him was an accident and now he's someone else entirely. Someone who runs around with dumb kids and acts like that's fun and it just... it just...

He looks...

He looks so miserable at this party right now and he looks so happy when he's walking down the street, talking with that curly haired nerd about whatever nerd shit has caught that kid's attention at that moment and it just...

It's just infuriating.

And Billy is extra infuriated because he doesn't know why it's infuriating. It's not like him to care this much about one specific person, it's not like him to...

Feel whatever the fuck this is that he feels every time he looks over at Steve and his stupid, big hair.

And then, just as Steve's looking like he might bow out for the night (and it's only 10 o'clock, the big coward) some aggressively drunk girl with a very precariously held onto glass of whatever the fuck they're calling punch at this party dares Steve to pick up the guitar in the corner and play it. Billy's not even sure she means to pick Steve specifically with the way her hand roves out among the crowd, wobbling back and forth and back and forth before finally settling on Steve as she calls out, “You! Play something!”

Steve gives her this total deer-in-the-headlights look with his ridiculous Bambi eyes as she stumbles over to him, teetering dangerously on her too-tall-for-her heels. “You should play something!” she yells as she somehow manages to simultaneously grab for his shoulder and spin around to point at the guitar in the corner.

“Oh, I don't think -” Steve starts, his eyes looking towards the door like a drowning man looks toward the shore.

“PLAY SOMETHING!” she shrieks, her tone halfway between drunken giggling and pure hysteria in a way that seems to explicitly belong to drunken teenage girls and drunken teenage girls alone.

"I -" Steve starts again, getting visibly nervous in a way that has Billy's hackles rising, has him wanting to get involved.

Like, who does this girl think she is, anyway?

"PLAY SOMETHING!" she shrieks again and dear God, now other people are starting to notice, now the eyes of everyone else in the room are slowly but surely starting to turn towards Steve and this girl and it has this weird, protective feeling creeping up Billy's spine and spreading out over his bones, making him desperate with the need to act. He cracks his knuckles and takes a step forward, about to yell, "Alright! Show's over folks," and physically lead Steve out of the room when Steve smiles all easy and calm and takes a step towards the guitar.

"Okay," Steve says, the warm feeling of his smile leaching into his words, coating Billy like honey and wiping away that aggressive, spiky feeling, that need to protect; the smile and those words make him feel… something and whatever it is, Billy doesn't like it.

As Steve walks forward, people part for him, creating a nice, safe crowd for Billy to melt seamlessly into. They gather around in a circle as Steve picks up the guitar and strums a few notes, testing it out - everyone seems curious about what it is he's about to do and the room is silent as they wait, silent until -

"Just play already!"

Billy doesn't need to turn around to know it's the same drunken disaster of a girl from earlier that's shouting now, but then someone counters with:

"Oh, just shut up, Melissa! And go home! You're too drunk to be here anyway," in this loud, booming way that has the rest of the crowd tittering in laughter and Melissa running off with tears in her eyes.

And all Billy can think is serves her right, as he looks back over at Steve who only grins sheepishly, smile half hidden by his hair as he continues to pluck away carefully at the guitar.

Everyone inside the house has started to move towards the living room, to gather around Steve for this impromptu concert he's apparently going to be giving and as Billy looks around the room he can see that some of the people around them look curious and some of them look too drunk to really have a clue what's going on other than that the people moved this way and they followed.

There are others, though, too many others that have this look on their faces like they're just waiting for Steve to fail, waiting for him to mess this up so they can snap their hungry jaws down around their former King and bite. And Billy's torn between wanting to join them, or, not just to join them but to laugh the loudest, to scorn Steve the most, and wanting to take anyone who dares laugh at Steve out to the backyard and punch them square in the face.

Then Steve starts singing. "Now, I've heard there was a secret chord, that David played, and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do you?"

And… the whole room goes dead silent. Billy would have thought Steve would have picked something silly, some pop song by Madonna or something.

Not… this.

read more on A03.

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my-weird-news · 8 months

Text

🔥 Unbelievable: Dinner and Hot Girl Walks Exposed! 😱

The Confusing Circus of Trendy "Girl" Labels You won't believe what my TikTok algorithm had the audacity to ask me the other day: "What kind of insufferable girl are you?" I mean, seriously, it's like the algorithm's become a judgmental aunt at a family gathering. The options it presented were a wild trio: "femcel," as in a radical feminist who's allegedly pathologically unlovable; "coquette," for those who adore bows and bop to Lana Del Rey; or "blogger," which, of course, means me. The original video might've been ditched into the digital abyss (too much insufferableness, perhaps), but I'm telling you, it's stuck in my head like gum on a shoe, not because it was an intellectual masterpiece but because it introduced me to another internet "girl" to add to my collection. Just what I needed, right? Welcome to the era of "girl" obsessions, where the internet's gone gaga over half-baked microtrends involving the word "girl." People are blabbering about their "girl dinners," which, let's be honest, are just glorified fridge clean-outs. Oh, and those "hot girl walks" we're all taking? Yeah, they're just regular strolls with extra flair. And don't forget the "feral girl summers" that somehow make us all feel like wilderness warriors. The internet has spiraled into a rabbit hole of absurdities, trying to decide whether they're "strawberry girls," "cherry girls," or even "tomato girls." I swear, it's like we're building a fruit salad cult. We're deep in "girlboss" territory, doing complex equations with our fabulously fabulous friends during the sizzling "hot girl summer." We're gulping down pink goo and green powders, hoping to transform into "clean girls" or "That Girls." But when those plans flop, what are we left with? Apparently, the crown of "insufferable girls." Eating my girl dinner, strolling my hot girl walk, binging on sad girl music, reading feral girl books, dancing with my girlianas, sipping with my girlipops—every day, a snail's pace towards... well, womanhood. — @EmmaKupor, July 10, 2023 Seriously, if you read these trend labels in sequence, you might wonder if we've all lost our marbles. And who's surprised? A good chunk of the folks riding this "girl" wave are women, and it's a smidge demeaning to treat grown women like toddlers playing dress-up. Are 30-year-olds really supposed to care about being a "strawberry girl" or a "cherry girl"? Shouldn't we have cracked the code of our own personalities by now? We could argue that boxing women into these labels reeks of gender stereotyping, or that stamping ordinary behavior as "girl-coded" merely widens the gender gap. But let's not kid ourselves—these aren't trends, they're just slick marketing ploys. Remember that Saturday Night Live skit where they cooked up a fake teen trend called "souping" to scare parents? Like, teenagers were supposedly getting high on expired soup cans? Classic. It's like today's trend journalism has taken a masterclass from SNL. One video goes viral, chats spark, media jumps in, and before you know it, you're watching the 6 o'clock news, where seniors gasp at how bizarre youngsters have become. And guess who gets the most bewildered mentions? Yep, our girls—because, naturally, they're the ones who must've lost their minds. But here's the kicker: half the time, the original video was a playful jest, meant for an audience who already knew it was bonkers. Take "girl dinner," for instance. It caused an uproar that'd make a volcano jealous, all because it blended womanhood with eating. Olivia Maher, a showrunner's assistant, labeled her medieval-peasant-inspired feast of bread, cheese, pickles, and vino as a "girl dinner." Why? Because she could do whatever the heck she wanted when her boyfriend wasn't around. But oh boy, did that get twisted in the news. Suddenly, this cute oddity turned into an epidemic—like leftover meals were a crisis worthy of international attention. But guess what? The "girl dinner" gig is so last month. I mean, I'm discussing it in August—talk about being fashionably late to the party. But no worries, the internet's churning out new "girl" stuff faster than rabbits procreate. And that's because "girls" sell like hotcakes. Casting our minds back to 2015, we had another "girl" frenzy gripping the bookstores. Remember the time when books like "Gone Girl" and "The Girl on the Train" took over the bestseller lists? Suddenly, every book had to have "girl" slapped somewhere on the cover. But the "girl" craze wasn't just literary—it infiltrated TV shows, movies, and even office lingo. "Girlboss" became a thing, and shows with names like "Good Girls Revolt" and "2 Broke Girls" dominated the airwaves. Seriously, we couldn't escape the "girl" invasion. Now, if you dive into the rabbit hole of analysis, it's not about the age of these "girls" but the themes of their stories. It's all about the transition from girlhood to womanhood, from being someone to being someone's wife or mother, whether that narrative path suits them or not. The protagonist of "The Girl on the Train" exemplifies this—she's like an erased wife, faded into nothingness once the marriage ink dried. This whole "girl" shebang is like a journey back to girlhood, where possibilities are endless. So, these TikTok women aren't merely following trends; they're strategists, plotting their moves like marketing geniuses. They've seen VSCO girls and e-girls break the internet, so they're riding the "girl" wave, because they know it sells. Heck, even this year's blockbuster movie and the record-breaking musical tour revolve around women in their 30s navigating their unique versions of girlhood. People will always be intrigued by girls—partly because they're not quite women, which makes them less of a target for scorn. Girls are like trending snacks, readily consumed, and they've got more avenues than ever. In the end, these online ladies aren't just trend-followers; they're marketing moguls in the making, crafting click-worthy labels that break the internet. We've all turned into mini-publishers, hoping to milk the anticipation of girls blossoming into full-fledged women. And in the process, we might end up a bit insufferable, but hey, at least we're stylishly insufferable. This zany column first hit the world through the Vox Culture newsletter. And hey, if you're up for supporting journalistic clownery like mine, why not throw a few coins Vox's way? They're not just banking on ads and subscriptions—they're all about bringing quality info to the masses. Will you support Vox's explanatory tomfoolery? *Most news outlets juggle cash from ads and# The Confusing Circus of Trendy "Girl" Labels You won't believe what my TikTok algorithm had the audacity to ask me the other day: "What kind of insufferable girl are you?" I mean, seriously, it's like the algorithm's become a judgmental aunt at a family gathering. The options it presented were a wild trio: "femcel," as in a radical feminist who's allegedly pathologically unlovable; "coquette," for those who adore bows and bop to Lana Del Rey; or "blogger," which, of course, means me. The original video might've been ditched into the digital abyss (too much insufferableness, perhaps), but I'm telling you, it's stuck in my head like gum on a shoe, not because it was an intellectual masterpiece but because it introduced me to another internet "girl" to add to my collection. Just what I needed, right? Welcome to the era of "girl" obsessions, where the internet's gone gaga over half-baked microtrends involving the word "girl." People are blabbering about their "girl dinners," which, let's be honest, are just glorified fridge clean-outs. Oh, and those "hot girl walks" we're all taking? Yeah, they're just regular strolls with extra flair. And don't forget the "feral girl summers" that somehow make us all feel like wilderness warriors. The internet has spiraled into a rabbit hole of absurdities, trying to decide whether they're "strawberry girls," "cherry girls," or even "tomato girls." I swear, it's like we're building a fruit salad cult. We're deep in "girlboss" territory, doing complex equations with our fabulously fabulous friends during the sizzling "hot girl summer." We're gulping down pink goo and green powders, hoping to transform into "clean girls" or "That Girls." But when those plans flop, what are we left with? Apparently, the crown of "insufferable girls." Eating my girl dinner, strolling my hot girl walk, binging on sad girl music, reading feral girl books, dancing with my girlianas, sipping with my girlipops—every day, a snail's pace towards... well, womanhood. — @EmmaKupor, July 10, 2023 Seriously, if you read these trend labels in sequence, you might wonder if we've all lost our marbles. And who's surprised? A good chunk of the folks riding this "girl" wave are women, and it's a smidge demeaning to treat grown women like toddlers playing dress-up. Are 30-year-olds really supposed to care about being a "strawberry girl" or a "cherry girl"? Shouldn't we have cracked the code of our own personalities by now? We could argue that boxing women into these labels reeks of gender stereotyping, or that stamping ordinary behavior as "girl-coded" merely widens the gender gap. But let's not kid ourselves—these aren't trends, they're just slick marketing ploys. Remember that Saturday Night Live skit where they cooked up a fake teen trend called "souping" to scare parents? Like, teenagers were supposedly getting high on expired soup cans? Classic. It's like today's trend journalism has taken a masterclass from SNL. One video goes viral, chats spark, media jumps in, and before you know it, you're watching the 6 o'clock news, where seniors gasp at how bizarre youngsters have become. And guess who gets the most bewildered mentions? Yep, our girls—because, naturally, they're the ones who must've lost their minds. But here's the kicker: half the time, the original video was a playful jest, meant for an audience who already knew it was bonkers. Take "girl dinner," for instance. It caused an uproar that'd make a volcano jealous, all because it blended womanhood with eating. Olivia Maher, a showrunner's assistant, labeled her medieval-peasant-inspired feast of bread, cheese, pickles, and vino as a "girl dinner." Why? Because she could do whatever the heck she wanted when her boyfriend wasn't around. But oh boy, did that get twisted in the news. Suddenly, this cute oddity turned into an epidemic—like leftover meals were a crisis worthy of international attention. But guess what? The "girl dinner" gig is so last month. I mean, I'm discussing it in August—talk about being fashionably late to the party. But no worries, the internet's churning out new "girl" stuff faster than rabbits procreate. And that's because "girls" sell like hotcakes. Casting our minds back to 2015, we had another "girl" frenzy gripping the bookstores. Remember the time when books like "Gone Girl" and "The Girl on the Train" took over the bestseller lists? Suddenly, every book had to have "girl" slapped somewhere on the cover. But the "girl" craze wasn't just literary—it infiltrated TV shows, movies, and even office lingo. "Girlboss" became a thing, and shows with names like "Good Girls Revolt" and "2 Broke Girls" dominated the airwaves. Seriously, we couldn't escape the "girl" invasion. Now, if you dive into the rabbit hole of analysis, it's not about the age of these "girls" but the themes of their stories. It's all about the transition from girlhood to womanhood, from being someone to being someone's wife or mother, whether that narrative path suits them or not. The protagonist of "The Girl on the Train" exemplifies this—she's like an erased wife, faded into nothingness once the marriage ink dried. This whole "girl" shebang is like a journey back to girlhood, where possibilities are endless. So, these TikTok women aren't merely following trends; they're strategists, plotting their moves like marketing geniuses. They've seen VSCO girls and e-girls break the internet, so they're riding the "girl" wave, because they know it sells. Heck, even this year's blockbuster movie and the record-breaking musical tour revolve around women in their 30s navigating their unique versions of girlhood. People will always be intrigued by girls—partly because they're not quite women, which makes them less of a target for scorn. Girls are like trending snacks, readily consumed, and they've got more avenues than ever. In the end, these online ladies aren't just trend-followers; they're marketing moguls in the making, crafting click-worthy labels that break the internet. We've all turned into mini-publishers, hoping to milk the anticipation of girls blossoming into full-fledged women. And in the process, we might end up a bit insufferable, but hey, at least we're stylishly insufferable. This zany column first hit the world through the Vox Culture newsletter. And hey, if you're up for supporting journalistic clownery like mine, why not throw a few coins Vox's way? They're not just banking on ads and subscriptions—they're all about bringing quality info to the masses. Will you support Vox's explanatory tomfoolery? *Most news outlets juggle cash from ads and Read the full article

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nobleclover · 4 years

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Cuphead: Birthday Blast

A week earlier:

Cuphead and Mugman were running around the woods in their usual carefree manner flying their red and blue kite. Recently, they got it off Hilda Berg as both a little 'thank you' gift and early birthday present for saving her from the Devil's debt. For about half an hour they were racing against the wind, skipping streams and hopping through the tall grass with the kite trailing after them above.

Suddenly, just as they were about to leave a clearing, the kite took a sudden dive and got lodged within a tree. Both boys stared up at the tree in dismay, watching their kite rock up and down with the branch in the wind.

"Well, gosh darn it," groaned Mugman, "it just had to get lodged in a stupid tree branch the first time we try it out!"

"Fear not Mugsy! I'll get it down in no time!" declared Cuphead, in his usual bold manner.

He walked over to the base of the trunk, spat on his hands and prepared to climb up…only to slide back down. He looked back at Mugman with a nervous look before trying again, and again, and again.

Mugman shook his head pityingly at his brother's efforts before looking back up at the kite again. I bet I can try and get it down from there, he thought to himself. Cuphead was still trying to climb up the imposing trunk while Mugman laid his eyes on a nearby tree.

Much to his delight, this tree had a number of interconnecting branches which would surely allow him to reach the first branch of the tree that the kite was stuck in. He decided to fetch it himself to surprise Cuphead to impress him. He knew that his brother was pretty impressed with him enough from their short time as the Devil's lackeys, but the eager little mug wanted to impress him a step further.

Cuphead was now glaring up at the tree before backing up a few yards away from the trunk. He then sprinted before leaping in the air to grab onto it, despite his small arms. Unfortunately, his face landed into the hard bark, causing him to rebound and land on his back.

Instantly, the red cup cupped his face in pain and pulled away to find some blood on his gloves. He groaned in both concern and frustration at having broken his nose at trying to climb the damn tree.

"Whoa! Are you okay?!" a small voice called out from above him.

To his surprise, it was Mugman in the tree, who was now very close to the branch that snared the kite. The blue mug grimaced as he took a good long look at his brother's bloody face. He almost looked like he had been fighting again, only this time he just suffered a broken nose.

"Whut're thuh hell're you doin' up there?" Cuphead mumbled nasally.

"Getting the kite back down! I'm almost there in getting it, see?!" Mugman responded excitedly.

"Yeh, yeh, justh be careful cuhmin' duhn, okeh?"

"Yeesh, Cuphead, don't worry too much abo—"

Suddenly, just as Mugman grabbed onto the kite, the branch snapped beneath him, causing the poor boy to plummet to the ground in shock, still holding the kite. Cuphead's eyes and mouth widened in terror as his brother landed with a sickening crack on the ground.

There was an air of dead silence for twenty seconds before a shocked Cuphead ran over to his dazed brother and cried, "Mugs! Mugs?! A – are you ok—?"

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

Present time:

Since then, Mugman had been mostly confined to their home with a broken leg and right arm, as well as the most painful looking black eye ever. As for Cuphead, the only sign of injury he bore was a small cotton bandage he wore on top of his nose.

Mugman would spend the days just sitting on the couch reading, drawing with his good hand and listening to the radio. Cuphead would always make small talk with him every morning and evening, only to be gone for most of the day. He'd try to ask how Cup's day was only to have him change the subject or just respond with "Fine, fine, nothing much."

The poor mug hoped that he'd stay around that Saturday for their birthday. He'd even wondered if some of the debtors were coming over. However, he guessed that he'd be staying home while Cuphead and some of their friends would be out celebrating.

"Yeah, well, I kinda wanted to be alone," he muttered to himself, which was kind of true.

He felt a little angry at Cuphead for not hanging around with him. However, he'd also remember that guilty look in Cuphead's eyes whenever they did chat. Perhaps my injuries also remind him of our battles with all the folks on the Devil's list, he thought. With that realisation, Mugman began to feel even more gloomy.

During the times Cuphead was out, he'd often wonder what he was up to. Usually, Elder Kettle would allow them to be out until six but for three days this week, he was coming back at around eight o'clock. On Friday night that week, Cuphead came back all frustrated and cursing under his breath.

"Hey, Cups! How was – ?"

Cuphead had already slammed their bedroom door behind him, much to Mugman's surprise. Sure, he was a bit of a hothead, but he was never this angry before.

Elder Kettle sighed and said, "I'll go talk to him, son."

After 15 minutes, Elder Kettle came down and walked over to his adopted son, who looked back at him concerned.

"Is Cuphead okay?"

"He's fine, boy. He's just extremely disappointed with some plans he had for tomorrow."

"Plans?" he asked curiously.

"He made me swear not to tell you what they are, but I will tell you that he can't go through with most of them," Kettle explained.

"Why can't he go through with them then?"

"He just heard that there's some bad weather on the way around noon tomorrow. However, I have suggested that he try a different approach with what he's planning," Elder Kettle replied.

Tomorrow, on their birthday? Now, Mugman's interest was piqued. Was he planning a surprise for him or something? He decided to say nothing so that he'll see for himself.

"Okay, then. Let's hope something better turns up for him," Mugman quipped.

"Yes, let's hope so. Now come on," Elder Kettle said, taking Mugman's hand, "I'll help you get up the stairs."

"Thanks, Elder Kettle," Mugman replied.

The next morning:

Mugman stirred and took a big yawn, gently rubbing his eyes with his uninjured hand. His arm and leg had been encased in plaster since the accident and now he felt being weighed down in bed. He never thought that having a feeling of being sunk into your bed would ever be uncomfortable.

Turning his head, he noticed that Cuphead was gone, with his bedsheets all over the place. He thought about what Elder Kettle said to him yesterday, and began to wonder what he was doing today.

"WAAAAKE UUUUP!" Cuphead sang, slamming the door open.

Mugman jumped before slightly flinching in pain. He sat up as best as he could to ask his brother, "What the hell, Cuphead?! What are you –?"

"Sorry, brother!" Cuphead chuckled, "just wanted to start your birthday off with a bang!"

"Yeah, yeah, thanks. Now what –"

Before he could finish, Cuphead stuck a small object wrapped in blue paper and happily proclaimed, "Happy birthday, Mugman!"

Mugman's eyes widened as he took the present and started to tear off the paper as best he could. All he could think was, I knew it was a surprise, I KNEW IT!

Cuphead watched eagerly as his brother tore off the last shred of paper to reveal a shiny new toy car. The paint was soft blue and had glistening silver bumpers with a small key with which to operate it. The blue mug smiled widely as he examined this swell gift he received. He then reached his good arm out for a hug, which Cuphead enthusiastically returned.

"Gee, Cuphead! I really love it! Thank you so much!"

"Yeah well, I raked up a lot of money to get that car for you. So, you play with it as long as ya want," his brother replied.

Mugman smiled before asking him, "Hey, about last night…what were you mad about?"

"O – oh, that! I was kinda bummed that nobody would come around due to this bad weather and I had planned a really spectacular party for pretty much everyone to come and see," he explained.

Mugman nodded, finally understanding as to why his brother had been mad the other night. He lay back in bed and asked, "So, you just wanted a really big party for us, but didn't tell me?"

"Yeah, a – and I'm sorry I wasn't seeing you all that much but I wanted it to be a surprise," Cuphead sighed.

"It's okay! I understand now! I don't mind just celebrating our birthday with just ourselves and Elder Kettle!"

"Thanks, Mugs. Anyways, you hungry?" he asked.

Before Mugman could answer, his stomach let out a small growl, which was most certainly a yes.

"Just let me get dressed, okay?"

"Okay, just call out when you're done!" Cuphead replied, walking out of the room.

Mugman put on his clothes as best as he could, despite the huge casts on his arm and leg, before rummaging under his pillow for something. He pulled out a sketch that he drew a few months back when they successfully liberated all of Inkwell Isle. It was a coloured sketch of the two brothers grinning proudly as ever with their fists to the sky. He drew them both with a few small cracks in their heads, to remind them of how far they came to freeing all those souls. This would make a great gift for Cuphead, he thought.

He stuffed the drawing into his pocket before calling out to his brother, "Okay, Cups! I'm ready!"

Cuphead walked in beaming and told him, "Great! When we get downstairs, you're gonna love the cake, Mugs!"

"Ooohh, is it chocolate?"

"You betcha! Now let's get ya downstairs," he smiled.

For the rest of the day, the two brothers and their guardian had a nice, small, party celebrating another year in the cups' lives and enjoying each other's company. All in all, it was a really pleasant birthday that they'll surely remember.

#cuphead #cuphead don't deal with the devil #cuphead and mugman #for last year's anniversary #brotherly fluff #cup bros #cuphead is a stubborn goodhearted kid in this

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moonstone-blues · 4 years

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A Spark By The River - Chapter 6: Memories

As River and Nick walked down the dank streets, River couldn’t help but look around. It wasn't difficult to see how bad the conditions in Goodneighbor were. Ghouls slept on the street and all the citizens had their weapons drawn at as if they were ready for a fight at any time. It was… shocking to say the least.

"Why does everyone live like this?” River asked, looking back at Nick. “Can't they all go to Diamond City?"

Nick sighed. "Well Diamond City has a strict entry policy."

River furrowed her brow in confusion. "But I was allowed in with hardly any trouble."

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well you're human.” He looked at River from head to toe, examining her. “Clean. Pretty. And being a vault dweller surely helped since they're known to be friendly folk to human settlements."

"Wait…” River paused as she processed Nick’s information. “They only let you in if you're human?"

"Well, have you seen any ghouls in Diamond City?" Nick asked.

River shook her head. "No… But they let you in and you're not exactly human yourself."

"That was before the wonderful mayor came up with an idea during his campaign years ago. People call it ‘the ghoul ban’. Ghouls used to be all over the place in Diamond City but as soon as McDonough was elected, all the ghouls were evicted from their homes. With nowhere else to go, they all soon came here." Nick explained.

"No wonder Piper hates him..." River clenched her fists. She hated people like that. Discriminating others for no reason. Next time she was in Diamond City, she would be sure to march right up to McDonough’s office and give him a piece of her mind.

Nick then suddenly stopped, patting his pockets with a blank look on his face. River turned to look at him. She raised an eyebrow. “Nick? What’s wrong?”

Nick suddenly slapped his own head with a loud, frustrated groan. “I’m so stupid!”

After seeing River’s confused look, Nick looked down at her with a look of embarrassment. He scratched the tear in his cheek. “I was in too much in a hurry, I forgot something pretty important.” Nick sighed. “The bastard’s brain.”

River let out a frustrated groan. “Do we really have to go all the way back?” She didn’t feel like running into another suicidal monster again.

“No.” Nick stated. “You don’t have to go all the way back but I will. I’ll get you a room at the hotel here and you can stay there while I go get the brain.”

“But didn’t you say this place is dangerous?”

River shifted uncomfortably, seeing another argument break out in the streets. A man with a machine gun -who River assumed was a sort of guard- soon ran over and eventually broke up the fight. The two fighters stormed off in opposite directions, still clearly angry at each over. River moved closer to Nick.

“You’ll be fine as long as you stay in your room, okay? Come with me.” Nick said before he began walking in a different direction, eventually standing in front of a building with a large neon sign saying ‘Hotel Rexford’.

Nick soon got River a room and escorted her up to it. At the door to River’s room, Nick put his hand on her shoulder. “Remember, do not leave this room under any circumstances, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

River nodded her head, understanding. She opened the door to her room and smiled at Nick. “Same could be said for you, Mr Valentine.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “I always am.”

River chuckled. “Right. That’s why I had to rescue you from countless amounts of thugs in a highly secured vault which you had been imprisoned in for a few weeks at the least.” She flashed a smirk, aiming it towards the detective.

Nick playfully glared at her. “Better watch it, Mrs McConnell.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now go before the smell of your coat rubs on my clothes.” River made a ‘shoo’ motion with both of her hands.

“I get it, I smell.” Nick huffed before he waved to her. “Goodbye.”

River waved back. “Don’t be long.”

River walked into her room and looked around. It was nothing special. There was a bed, a table and a few other pieces of furniture. River walked towards the boarded up window and peeked out of it through the small cracks between the wooden boards. A minute went by and River eventually saw Nick leaving the hotel. Nick walked past a building in the distance and eventually disappeared from River’s sight. River backed away from the window and thought for a moment. She tried to think about the place they were going to go.

The Memory Den.

River remembered Nick telling her about it a couple of weeks ago. It was a place where people went to relive their memories. To get lost in the past. River looked towards the door and thought for a moment.

One little trip couldn't hurt...

River shyly walked into a large room. She noticed large machines, lining the walls. In the far side of the room was a platform where a chaise was placed and a woman lay down in it. Once she saw River, she sat up.

“May I help you?”

River cleared her throat. “Umm hello. My name is River McConnell. I heard that you can revisit memories here?”

The woman smiled. “Why yes, of course we can do that.”

River sighed. “May I… relive a memory? Please?”

“Honey, if you want to go back to the past, I'm gonna need some caps. Can't run a business if I don't get paid.” The woman told her.

River thought for a moment. She checked her pockets, only counting about twenty. Doubtful that would be enough. “I don't have much… but I can assure you, if this is really what I think it'll be then you can garentee yourself a regular customer. I'll pay you whatever you want. Please, It doesn't even have to be a long memory!” She looked down slightly. She was ashamed of her begging but there was someone she just had to see again.

The woman thought for a moment, resting her chin in her hand. “Well… I suppose a little taste wouldn't hurt. And you do certainly seem troubled…” The woman smiled at River. "Just this once though. Don’t tell my coworker.” She added with a wink.

River beamed. “Thank you so much!”

The woman couldn't help but chuckle at River’s enthusiasm. “Amari!” She called out. “We have a new client!”

A woman in a lab coat soon entered the room. She looked River up and down. "Get in the lounger, please."

The woman pointed to a strange looking pod. River swaalled, doubting herself for a moment before climbing in. Some weird machine attached itself to her head. She could heard the doctor speak just a little away from her by a computer, though the machine prevented River from turning her head.

"Please tell me what memory you want. Something strong the machine can cling to."

She needed no time getting to work.

"I want a memory of my husband… Well, my late husband." River asked.

"Describe him."

"He was from Ireland. Had the typical red hair and green eyes. He was very tall, very handsome. We met when we were teenagers and he had such an accent." She chuckled to herself as she remembered.

"Got one!"

The woman River first met spoke up. "Now, just relax, dear."

River took a deep breath as the pod closed. She continued to breath in and out. She still had her doubts about this whole thing but maybe that would change when she relaxed…

Then, the memory came to her.

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

River walked down the long hallway of her school, books in hand. She let out a sigh as she made it to her locker, gently moving her fringe out of her face with a calm sigh. She had so much homework to do and so little time. She opened her locker and put her books in, taking out some stuff she would need for her next class. She closed her locker once more to see her very own sister.

"Hey River." The girl smiled, her own books close to her chest.

"Hi Jane." River responded, leaning against her locker. She raised a confused eyebrow. "I thought you were in maths right now. What are you doing all the way over in the english department? Did you forget your bag?… Again?”

"I cut. Mr Johnson is so freaky. I'm pretty sure that he constantly checks me out. It's super gross.” Jane cringed, sticking out her tongue.

River rolled her eyes. Jane was always the drama queen. “Jane, you think that everyone checks you out.”

Jane huffed. “Hey, I can't help it if a lot of people think I'm very attractive!”

“Whatever you say.” River shrugged her off, beginning to make her way over to her next class, Jane following close next to her.

Jane suddenly let out a gasp as she suddenly remembered something she had forgotten to tell River earlier. “By the way, guess what?”

Jane didn't let River answer.

“There's cheerleading tryouts going on after school. You should totally try out!" Jane suggested. "You don't have to actually do anything, just be there and I'll show you where all the cute guys are." She winked. "By the way… I hear jocks have a thing for blondes."

"I'm fine, thanks. Cheerleading isn't really my... thing." River began walking to the courtyard. “Besides, you know I'm not into assholes.”

Jane followed close behind. "Oh come on, sis! Don't be a stick in the mud! Let your hair down for once!" She then stepped in front of River and pushed her bottom lip out with a pouty face in an effort to convince her. "Please?"

River stared at her for a second before letting out a groan. "Fine! But don't be mad when I don't make it into the squad!”

River tightened her ponytail before grabbing her pom poms. She couldn't believe she actually made it in the cheerleading squad. She looked at the main girl -someone called Lena- who was talking about what their routine would be. Jane nudged River with her elbow and pointed in the direction behind them.

"Hey. Cute guys, twelve o'clock."

River turned around, seeing a few jocks talking and laughing. She rolled her eyes. What was it about them that made Jane so attracted to them?

"You have no taste, Jane."

Jane scoffed. "Speak for yourself."

Soon they got in position for their routine, River trying her best to do it correctly while Jane lazily struck a pose.

Lena spoke. "Ok for this part, I'm thinking of something big..." Her eyes fell on the other cheerleaders as she placed her hands on her hips, eyeing everyone up. "Can anyone here do a backflip?”

There was silence among the others. Lena waited for a few seconds before letting out a groan. "Look. If we want to amaze everyone at the next football game, we've gotta make this good. Now-"

"I might."

Everyone's attention turned to River. Jane's jaw hung open. River immediately regretted speaking up. "I-I mean I took gymnastics a while ago outside of school and I learned a few things..." Her voice trailed off.

A grin appeared on Lena’s face. "Perfect! Now everyone except for River get into the pyramid formation we discussed earlier.

She then went on to explain what River had to do in full detail. After she explained, River got on top of the pyramid. She suddenly felt extremely nauseous. She shook her head, trying to clear her nerves before she was thrown into the air by the other cheerleaders. She managed to just barely complete a single backflip before landing in an awkward split.

Lena thought for a moment. "Ok. It needs some work but we have enough time to practice. Well done.” She clasped her hands together with an exhausted sigh. “Ok everyone! I think we should have a little break. You've done good up to now!"

River sighed. She was about to walk over to Jane when she heard clapping coming from behind her. She turned around to see all of the jocks staring at her. A few of them were flashing a disgusting smirk, others held beer cans which they had somehow hidden from their coach. However, there was one jock who sat a couple of feet away from the rest of the group who was… clapping. River simply rolled her eyes and turned back to the other cheerleaders, assuming that the jock was just patronising her.

After practice River and Jane were discussing the work they had to do before they walked home together. Jane had been slacking in her work and as usual, River had been asked by Jane’s teachers to help her. River didn’t mind helping Jane; she was her sister after all. However, River would rather study herself or just hang out with Jane as sisters, not study partners. Jane was complaining about her english homework. The pair were interrupted when a voice stopped them.

"Excuse me?"

River and Jane looked at each other before turning around to face the figure. River's eyes widened. It was the jock from before who was clapping.

Jane immediately smirked. Jocks were a... personal favourite of hers to say the least. "Can we... help you?"

"Well, I just wanted to say... you were really good back there." The guy nervously smiled at River, scratching the back of his neck. He had a very strong irish accent. Jane’s smirk grew. He was exotic.

"Umm thanks?" River said, a little unsure what response she could've gave to the jock. Was he trying to… flirt with her?

"Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to... I don't know... go to Joe's? I'd really like to get some lunch with a really pretty-"

"No." River cut him off.

"W- What?" The guy was slightly taken back.

River held up one finger. "First off, I don't even know you." She raised another. "Second, you don't know me." Then a third finger. "Third, you only want to go on a date with me because you think I'm pretty and four? You think that just because you're a 'hot jock', you can get with any girl. Well not me. Sorry but I'd rather study. Goodbye!" River turned away. "Come on Jane."

Jane walked closer to the guy, twirling her hair. "Well I'M free if you wanna hang out... umm... what's your name?"

"It's-"

"JANE." River called out, annoyed.

"Wow, I'm coming! Jeeze..."

The next day, as River was walking towards her locker as usual, she noticed a group of jocks approaching her.

“Hey babe.” The one at the front spoke with a flirtatious smirk. River knew who he was. Randy Sullivan. Captain of the football team. He wasn't really classed as a ‘bully’ but he had been known to steal other kid's lunch money back in seventh grade.

“My name is River.” River crossed her arms, eyeing Randy up and down. “And you know that, Randy.”

“Don't be like that.” Randy smirked down at her. “I saw your performance yesterday. I can tell that you're quite… flexible.”

River cringed. Why did jocks always have to be so… vulgar? “Randy, I need to get to my locker, can you move please?”

Randy wrapped an arm around River’s waist. “Don't be such a spoilsport, River. I saw the way you looked at us yesterday…”

“With complete and utter disgust? Yeah that sounds about right.” River tried to move away but Randy’s grip on her tightened. “Let go of me, you creep!” River tried to push him away.

“Playing hard to get isn't really a turn on, babe, so you can stop now.” Randy stated with a frown.

“I'm not your ‘babe’ so cut it out!” River snapped.

Randy used his other hand to grab the back of River’s hair. River yelped and tried to move with it having not much effect. Randy moved his head closer towards hers until a voice called out to them.

“She said let go.”

Randy turned his head to see someone stood in front of him. He rolled his eyes.

“Walk away, jackass, this one's mine.”

“Oh haha, Randy. Very original.” The male stated sarcastically before giving Randy a small round of applause. "Stop being a dosser and leave her alone."

“You got a problem?” Randy asked, displeased.

“Yeah. My problem is you're trying to kiss a girl who clearly doesn't want you to. Pretty sure you can get in some deep shite for that.” The male walked closer. “I always knew you were a manky creep, Randy.”

Randy paused for a second. He turned to the group of other jocks around him. “Grab him.”

River’s eyes widened as the jocks surrounding Randy ran towards the other male. He managed to dodge a leaping jock and punch another in the face. But soon after that, he was forced to the ground. He tried to get up but his arms and legs were held down. Randy let go of River and walked over to the fallen male and began to kick him hard in the gut. He let out a pained yell. River’s eyes widened.

“Get off of him!” River cried.

River ran towards Randy and pulled on his arm, trying to get him away from the struggling male. Randy eventually got annoyed and turned around, smacking River across the face. River yelped and fell to the ground, holding her cheek in pain. Tears threatened to fall down her face. River turned and saw that Randy had gone back to kicking the other guy. River clenched her teeth and stumbled back to her feet. She took a deep breath before she walked up to Randy.

"Hey!" She yelled.

As soon as Randy started to turn around, River punched him in the face. Randy fell to the ground with a cry and River held her fist, biting her lip. That hurt… a lot.

This surprised the other jocks, causing them to loosen their grip on the male on the floor. The male quickly broke free of the other jock’s grasps and jumped to his feet. He immediately grabbed River’s arm and began to run down the hallways, dragging her behind him. River looked back to see the jocks chasing them. River’s eyes widened and she looked back in front of her. The male holding her suddenly pulled her into a room, closing the door behind them. Nearly in sync, River and the male slid down against the door and panted, out of breath.

River let out a sigh. “Thanks for helping me back there.”

“No problem. I can’t believe I'm on the same team as that arse…” The male groaned, looking back at the door.

River then realised something as she examined his face properly. “Wait a second…” River pointed an accusing finger towards the now recognisable jock. ”You’re the jock that tried to flirt with me yesterday!”

The male awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “When you put it like that, it makes me sound like a loser.” He flashed a nervous smile and outstretched his arm. “And thanks for getting Randy off of me, by the way. What’s your name?”

River looked at the male’s hand before she shook it with a small chuckle. From a flirtatious ass to a gentleman. “River. River Bellafield.”

The male smiled. “The name’s Jack McConnell.”

“Nice to meet you Jack.” River moved her hand away before she thought for a moment. “You know what? I might just take you up on that offer you made. I’ll pay though. It’s the least I can do for my hero.” She sarcastically batted her eyelashes at him.

Jack burst out laughing, eventually being joined by River. After the laughter died down, Jack folded his arms and tried his best to look offended. “Okay, now I know you’re purposely trying to make me sound like a loser.”

“Your accent… Irish, right?” River questioned.

Jack blushed slightly, embarrassed. “Um… Yeah. Is it that obvious?” He chuckled to himself. “I've only been here-”

Suddenly a scream rang out. River and Jack turned to see a girl screaming, while she stared at Jack. River sighed.

“You dragged me into the girl’s bathroom, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Yes I did.”

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

The pod opened and River was snapped out of her memory. She carefully climbed out of the pod and turned to the women ahead of her with a grateful smile. The woman in the lab coat had left. “Thank you. I'll definitely come back here. I'll pay whatever you want.”

The woman who lay in the chaise nodded her head before she paused, narrowing her eyes as she noticed something. “Dear, are you alright? You're crying.”

River paused for a moment and raised two fingers to her face and wiped under her eye. River looked down at her pale hand. The woman was right. River had been crying.

“Oh umm…”

River quickly wiped both of her eyes with a small sniffle and flashed a smile, trying her best to look like she was fine.

“It's okay. I'm fine. Thank you so much.”

"I'm sorry for prying but we have to watch the memory to make sure we know if we have to pull you out if something goes wrong." The woman explained. "That memory looked clean. The people looked clean… what's your name, dear?"

"River McConnell."

The woman gasped. "That's it. You're the woman out of time!"

River tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, slightly embarrassed. "Didn't realise the paper came out this far."

"It doesn't. But word of mouth travels far." The woman smiled. "I assume you didn't just come here for a trip down Memory Lane then?"

“I'm... actually working with someone to help look for my son. He's a synth called Nick Valentine. We’ll be coming here later. Can you… not say anything to him please? Don't tell him I was here. He told me not to leave the hotel but I just wanted to see what this place was like. He wouldn’t understand...” River politely asked.

The woman thought for a moment before she nodded, understanding. “My lips are sealed.”

River took out her twenty caps. "Like I said, I don't have much, but-"

"No, no." The woman shook her head. "Please keep it. You need all the help you can get with your tough times."

River nodded. "Thank you again…" She turned to leave but stopped. "I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"Irma. Now you hurry off before Mr Valentine comes back!"

River smiled and walked out of the Memory Den. She stuck close to the buildings, avoiding anyone who looked like trouble while she made her way back to the hotel and entered her room once again. River closed the door with a sigh and took her bag off, throwing it to the side before she flopped onto the bed. It was even scratchier than Nick’s. River sat up, the sheets irritating her skin too much and thought for a moment.

She missed Jack.

River brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them. She first thought Jack was just another jerk jock that was in a constant competition to sleep with the most girls but he was different. He was kind and gentle, willing to stand up to Randy and those other jerks. She wanted to see him again. She wanted to feel his embrace again…

River was crying again.

Nick sighed as he came up to a familiar wooden door. He adjusted his tie. He couldn’t look too unprofessional. River was still a client after all. Maybe… a friend… But still a client. It took him a little longer than expected but he had Kellogg’s brain… or well, whatever it was. Nick raised his hand, ready to knock when he heard a faint sound. He knew he shouldn’t be nosy but he couldn’t help but press his ear to the door. He heard crying. Nick backed away slightly. He cleared his throat and decided to call out.

“River? It’s Nick. Are you in there?”

There was a gasp and after a moment, River replied. “Hold on a second! I’m just… putting my stuff back in my bag!”

Nick frowned. She didn’t have to lie to him.

River soon walked out of the door, flashing a smile. “Sorry about the wait. All of my stuff fell out of my bag when I put it down.”

Nick nodded his head. “Mm hm. Come on, let’s go.”

The pair made their way over the brightly lit building with Nick glancing at River occasionally, seeing her sniffle and rub her eyes.

“You okay?” Nick asked.

“Huh?” River looked up at him. “Oh… Yeah… I just have a stupid cold. Hope that isn’t deadly out here.” She let out a nervous chuckle.

Nick nodded before he looked away. He would talk to her about this later.

They approached the double doors and walked inside the large building. River saw the same woman as before laying in her chaise. She smirked once she saw Nick and sat up, making her way over to the detective.

"Well, well. Mister Valentine. I thought you had forgotten about little ole' me." She batted her eyelashes at the old detective.

Nick chuckled. "I may have walked out of the Den, Irma, but I would never walk out on you." He gave her a wink.

"Hmph. Amari's downstairs, you big flirt." Irma chuckled, pushing Nick away.

River gave Nick a ‘look’ to which he simply rolled his eyes with a chuckle. Nick began to walk, waving at River, gesturing for her to follow him. River looked back at Irma and flashed a sheepish smile, mouthing ‘thanks’ so that Nick wouldn’t hear her. They walked down some stairs to see another woman at a machine. River identified her as the one who set up the pod she climbed into earlier.

"Doctor Amari?" Nick called out.

The woman turned around. "Yes?" She looked at the two. She saw River and quickly glanced back at Nick.

"We need a memory dig, Amari, but it's not gonna be easy. The perp of our case, Kellogg, is already cold on the floor." Nick shoved his hands in his pockets.

Amari's eyes widened, looking at the both of them. "Are you two mad? Putting aside the fact that you're asking me to defile a corpse, you do realize the memory stimulators require intact, LIVING brains to function?"

River bit her lip, nervous, before she spoke. "Please. Nick told me you're the only one that could make this work."

"This dead brain had inside knowledge of the Institute, Amari." Nick stated. "The biggest scientific secret of the Commonwealth. Imagine what we could gain from this sort of information." He tried his best to convince the doctor.

Amari sighed, eventually giving in. "Fine. I'll take a look, but no guarantees." She looked at each of them. "Do you... have it with you?"

"Here's... what we could find." Nick handed the small mechanical part of Kellogg’s brain over to Amari.

Amari took it carefully with a look of utter confusion. "What.. is this? This isn't a brain! This is... wait..." She examined it closely. "That's the hippocampus! And this thing attached to it... A neural interface?"

Nick frowned, scratching his cheek where he could feel a couple of wires poking out of his ‘flesh’. "Those circuits look awfully familiar..."

Amari raised an eyebrow. "I'm not surprised. From what I've seen, all Institute technology has a similar architecture."

"Is the brain still good?" River asked, hopeful.

"Possibly. I think the tech preserving the tissue so there is some hope. However, there's no way to access the memories inside without a compatible port." Amari explained.

Nick cleared his throat, deciding to step up. "Hey.” He said, getting their attention. “I'm an old synth. If the Institute built me out of similar parts, we might have an in. If you plug that thing into me, we could make this work."

Amari paused. She took a deep breath before saying her next words. "There... could be long-term side effects. I don't know where to even begin with listing the risks."

Nick held up his hand, stopping her. "Don't bother. I don't need to hear them.” A determined look was now present on his face. “Plug me in, doc."

River stepped towards him. "Nick, you heard what she said. You could suffer from this. I don't want you to-"

Nick gave her a small smile. "I said, we'd find your boy, didn't I? Well if I have to have something from a psychopath plugged into my brain then that's what i'm willing to do."

"I..." River looked down with a sigh before she looked back up, smiling at Nick. "I really appreciate this, Nick. Thank you."

Nick chuckled. "You can thank me when we've found your son." He looked over at Amari. "All right. Let's do this."

"Whenever you're ready, Mister Valentine. Just sit down." Amari gestured to the chair she was standing next to.

Nick sat down with a nervous chuckle. "If I start cackling like an old, grizzled mercenary, pull me out, okay?"

Amari carefully plugged the cybernetics into Nick. She cleared her throat then spoke. "Are you... feeling any different?"

Nick looked around, frantically as if what he saw in his mind was all around him in the real world. "There's a lot of... flashes... static... I can't make sense of any of it, Doc."

"That's what I was afraid of." Amari sighed. "The mnemonic impressions are encoded. It appears the Institute has one last failsafe."

"Wait.” River said. “Is Nick going to be okay?" She asked, concerned. She didn't want Nick to be hurt because of her.

Amari sighed. "Yes, the connections appear to be stable. But we need to solve the current problem first."

Amari continued. "The memory encryption is too strong for a single mind, but..." Amari gave her full attention to River. "What if we used two? We load both you and Mister Valentine into the memory loungers. He'll act as a host while your consciousness drives through whatever memories we can find." She explained.

River nodded. It was the best shot they had right now. "All right." She still wasn’t entirely sure about this but she was willing to go through anything now.

Amari pointed to an open memory lounger. "Just sit down over there. And…” She shrugged. “Keep your fingers crossed."

Nick smiled at River before he climbed into a memory lounger. He waved before speaking his next words.

"See you on the other side."

River climbed into the empty memory lounger and bit her lip, nervously. As it closed, she looked back at Nick then at the screen in front of her.

River could hardly hear Amari over her own thoughts but she noticed that she was quickly beginning to slip into a deep sleep. She only heard Amari tell her to hold on before she was completely submerged in total darkness.

#asbtr #a spark by the river #nick valentine x sole survivor #sole survivor #fanfic #fanfiction #fallout fanfic #amari #irma #fallout 4 #River McConnell

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