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of-thoughts-and-phobias · 5 years

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Part Two: Realization

Sorry for the long wait! My phone broke, deleted everything, and now the new phone I got deleted the art I was working on. So no art for this chapter sorry.

A big thank you to my good friend @tinykitty252 for editing this!

Sean woke up on the floor beside his bed with the worst hangover ever. Was it even a hangover? Did he drink at all last night? What was his name again?

Red and green swirled through his vision, which made it hard to focus on anything.

"Ughh,hu" he sat up shaking his head, hoping to wipe away the pain. Nope, nope. Bad idea. Sean shot up and ran into the bathroom, before promptly throwing up in the toilet.

"Best way to start the morning," he thought spitefully, rubbing at his mouth.

He shuffled to the kitchen and filled a semi clean glass with water to wash out the sour taste in his mouth. Afterwards, he put a pot of coffee on and threw a few pieces of bread in the toaster. He downed another swig of water along with a pepto bismol. He sat up on the counter, counting the seconds by the indicator light on the coffee maker. The toast soon popped up, quickly followed by a high pitched beeeeep, so he hopped off the counter and grabbed them both before migrating over to the couch.

There was a wet squelch under his feet which made him jump a bit. It was his hoodie, tossed haphazardly on the floor the night before. 'Oh right,' he thought as he remembered the freak storm that came out of nowhere.

Next to his jacket was his phone. He picked it up and examined it; there was a sizable crack in the protector but that was easily replaceable. Sean switched it on and almost dropped it again.

"4:50??!" He'd missed both uploads! "Great. Just friggin fantastic," he groaned, swigging some coffee from the pot. He pulled up his Twitter to post a quick apology to his fans, and then speeding into his bedroom to get ready for the day.

Now feeling slightly less dead, Sean downed the rest of the coffee and set the pot in the sink to be washed later. He then headed to his recording room to at least get some work done. Camera up? Check. Game up and loaded? Sweet. Alright. In and out, Sean.

In.

And out.

"Okay and a 3, 2, 1 GO!"

As he worked, Sean could feel the tension start to leave his body and he found it easier to breathe.The pounding in his skull calmed down considerably and little by little, his strength started returning to him. Before he knew it, he had finished filming four whole videos! And that wasn't even counting the two that he'd uploaded earlier!

Sean sat back with a sigh. He checked his watch to find it was 9:45. "Some work, eh?"

His stomach started rumbling. He never did eat that toast, he remembered. He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge and good lord when was the last time he went shopping? Let's see here, peanut butter, m&m's, a half empty jar of pickles and what he hoped was a peach. Now, Sean didn't really feel like making a nightmare sandwich and having it exist so once more, he grabbed his keys and went out.

The roads were still wet despite not raining at all that day and the sky was clear for the first time in a while. A few stars were visible against the stark blue sky. The whole street was painted blue and it seemed that the only colors came from inside the shops.

Sean waited for a car to pass before running to the other side. He walked for a bit more until he arrived at a little, run down establishment. Best pizza in the neighborhood if you asked him. The door let out a pleasant chime as he entered and the smell of fresh baked bread welcomed him in.

"Heya Sean!" The guy behind the counter greeted.

"Hey Bruce," he greeted back.

"The usual?"

"Yeah but could you make it a large?"

"No problem."

"Thanks Bruce."

As he gave him the money, Bruce jumped back, flustered.

"Sorry man, y'kinda shocked me there," he said, grabbing the money from the floor.

"Did I? Huh, sorry."

"Don't worry about it," the tall man said, picking up the change he'd dropped. "Here's your receipt."

‘Huh, that was weird,’ he thought as he sat down. He rubbed at his wrists as he waited for his food.

Sean found himself awfully anxious but he wasn't quite sure why. His legs were bouncing, his fingers drumming on the table, his eyes darting to every little thing that twitched. The nervous looking man in the blue sweater had stopped to check his watch every thirty two seconds, poor dude. The barking of a dog a few blocks away followed by disgruntled shouts. He could clearly hear the lyrics from the music coming from one of the nearby apartments. He could perfectly see the wings of a fly circling one of the dangling lights. The lights. Why did they hurt? He was overwhelmed by just how loud everything was. The talking, the laughing, the dinging of the door, the colors, the lights. Why were they so loud?

"Sean!"

Everything stopped. He looked up to see a very concerned looking Bruce holding a fresh pie. Everyone in the restaurant seemed to be looking at them.

"Are you okay?"

Was he?

"Um yeah, m'fine. Haven't really eaten today, heh."

That didn't really ease his nerves but Bruce thought it best to not push it, so he placed the pie on the table and went back to the kitchen.

"T-thank you!" Sean yelled and he was answered by a mock salute.

It felt nice actually having food inside him and somehow Sean managed to eat the whole thing in about twenty minutes.

"You forget to breathe or somethin?" Bruce huffed as he came over to pick up the tray.

Sean chuckled "Absolutely. Nah, I just forgot lunch today."

"Whatever, goodnight Sean."

"Night Bruce."

Sean left the pizzeria with a full stomach and a ding from the door. Congratulations, he thought, you're a human being. Why'd he have to live so far away? If he had to walk any farther, he'd probably have to learn how to drive. ‘At least it wasn't raining this time,’ he mused.

A high pitched piercing noise came from nowhere and hit Sean like a punch to the face.

"Gah!!" He pawed at his eyes. What the-

"Sean.. McLaughlin?"

"Who's there?" He cried, still clawing at his face.

"William McLaughlin?"

"Do I know you?"

He could vaguely see two figures down the alley coming closer to him. A man and a woman by the looks of it. They were moving oddly, like they had no choice. Soon they stopped right in front of him.

"Sean.. William McLaughlin?" Okay now they were starting to freak him out.

"Yes! That's me! I swear if you guys say you're fans I wi-"

The man suddenly lunged at him, pulling him deeper into the backstreets, the woman standing directly behind him, blocking the way out.

"Hey! What're you doing? Let go of me, let go!" The man's grip did not budge. He continued to limp farther down the dark road. Sean started to panic, breaking his fists up and pounding against the man's chest. That did nothing to slow him down, but he kept trying.

"Let me go," He felt his hair rising on the back of his neck and his fingers start to tingle.

"Do you understand me ya fathead? I said " He raised up his fist.

"Let go of me!"

He clocked him right in the face, sending him across the street. "Woah what?"

He looked down at his hands. Blazing green mist flowed around his hands with his veins shining through his skin. What's happening to him? Oh no. Is he dying? Was the pizza radioactive? Was he drunk? What is happening?

The woman clumsily but determinedly ran towards him. Right. Now's not the right time for a break down, Sean. She reached out to grab him. But, grabbing her first, he pushed her away. She sprung back and grabbed him by the neck and pinned him down. The light from the passing cars rapidly illuminated her face. There was something definitely wrong with her, Sean could tell right away, but at the moment he was more focused on not dying than on the woman trying to kill him.

He put all of his strength into throwing her off. How was she so strong? She looked like she hasn't eaten in weeks!

"Ahh!" He yelled, reeling back.

"AAAGHHHH!!" Then everything went white.

When he came to, she was off of him and was trying to get back up. He looked around for the other one, taking note of his surroundings. For one thing, everything was on fire. Did he do that? Trash cans and discarded items were blazing and the water on the ground was steaming. The man from earlier had recovered and was slowly making his way across the street.

Sean ran to the back of the alley, only to be greeted by a ten foot fence. He was trapped.

Well, he thought, I hope these zombies are up for round two. They both jumped at him but he dodged under them. The man swung at him but he easily side stepped it. The man kicked his knee and sent him down, where the woman held down his legs.

"No!" He yelled.

The man wrapped his arms around his waist and started to pick him up.

"No! No no no n̷o̸ N̵̛̿O̴̻̎ ̵͚͝Ñ̸͊Ŏ̵̆ ̷͍̀N̸̈̄O̵͋̇!̵͓͆" power surged through him, burning him out of their grip. He felt like he was being torn apart. He screamed out in pain while they just watched in what could only be seen as confusion.

The street was alive with electricity, bolts of green lighting dancing across the walls. Glass from the nearby windows shattered and the ground below them started rumbling. And Sean was right in the middle of it.

"A̶̅̔ A̴̘̋ A̴̢͆ Ȁ̸̉ Ạ̵͝ Ğ̶͝ H̴͚͝ H̸̏̿ Ĥ̵̤ H̴̓̄ H̵͋̉!!"

They tried to get to him but the pure power surrounding the Irishman wouldn't allow them to come closer. And then.. Just as abruptly as it started

It was over.

The rumbling had ceased, the street had stopped hissing and it was dark once more.

The couple stood unfazed as the fires around them dwindled down into nothing as they looked down at the place where Sean William McLaughlin once laid.

Cold, brisk air rushed all around him, jostling him awake. He felt like he was floating on air. He opened his eyes and saw.. stars? Wasn't he in an alley?

A large rumbling thing whizzed underneath him.

It couldn't be.

'British Airways' was written in dark bold lettering along the body of the plane.

Those weren't stars. They were buildings.

"HOLY-" he was cut off by the plane shooting passed him, practically blowing out his eardrums.

"AHHHH"

Focus. How did this even happen? Last he checked, he was in the middle of being kidnapped!

He felt queasy, which was understandable considering the situation. The wind tugged at his face, pulling tears out of his eyes. This was it, he realized.

He held his arms out in front of him, ready to accept his fate when he noticed something odd. His arms were still glowing slightly, the burning green mist streaming behind him. Great, he still had some of that radiation left. Huh, that was a sentence he never thought he would say.

He focused on the burning sensation in his chest, drawing all of his power to his core. He felt worn out and overtaxed but he wouldn't be feeling anything if he'd just focus!

He thought of home.The nest of blankets on the couch, his recording room, the kitchen. The coffee pot he hadn't washed. Power flooded all throughout him. He recalled him and some friends playing on his Playstation when he first moved in. The God awful curtains he still hadn't gotten around to changing. The elevator that will probably never be fixed.

His apartment. His home.

He closed his eyes and dreamt. And it h̷u̶r̴t̷.

Pure, raw force circulated through his body, pulling it out of the sky and back to the earth.

Around thirty feet outside the complex, an old man was taking out the trash to the dumpsters. It was a pretty uneventful day if he were honest. Nothing really happens around here anymore. He sighed. The street lamps behind him started to flicker. He opened the lid to throw the bags in when a large blast suddenly came from the building across the lane. Emerald sparks shot up from a trash bin, followed by smoke.

There was coughing and wheezing coming from the bin, and it shook with every noise. A hand, followed by another came out the trash, accompanied by the rest of the man. He hopped out the dumpster and immediately keeled over.

He gasped "Young man!"

He didn't respond.

"You! On the ground! Is everything alright?!"

A moment passed.

".. Yeah," he wheezed "s'bad day."

"Better go home while there's still light."

"Thanks.."

Sean waited until he heard the door shut. Then he groggily got to his feet. Through shaking eyes, he saw the familiar glow from his apartment building across the street. He sighed with relief and started crying.

Close enough.

@septilover3 @cookiethedevil @obsidiancreates @reverseblackholeofwords @the-editor-is-bored @ytcoma @caori-azarath @alexis

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#official story #jackieboy man #jacksepticeye #otap #of thoughts and phobias #feedback?

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ansgiftexchange · 7 years

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Office Gossip

*For @claudeng80! Merry Christmas! Thank you so much for being so awesome and I hope you enjoy my gift!*

(Modern AU, w/c~1,700)

Kai strolled into the building, whistling a Christmas tune while holding two Starbucks coffee cups in his hands. Shiira sighed, sitting straight in his swivel chair. “You’re late.”

“That’s because I had to get us coffee,” Kai explained, sliding a cup to him as he sat down next to him.

“They have coffee here. If you remembered that you wouldn’t be late all the time.” Shiira grabbed the cup anyway and took a slow sip. “Thanks.”

“I don’t feel like setting up the coffee maker, you know.”

They were the first people inside Wistal Headquarters, setting up the security cameras and checking the daily agenda for scheduled client meetings. It was their responsibility to know each and everyone going in and out of the building, know where everyone was at and what they were doing.

“Are you bringing a date tonight?” Kai asked as he stapled the blank sign-in sheets.

Shiira shook his head, eyes glued to the glass doors of the building. “Are you?”

“No.”

A few early bird employees trickled in. The cleaning lady Marina was on time today, nodding her head toward the two guards as she walked straight through the office doors behind them. Shiira glanced at the small video screen in front of him, watching Marina head to the kitchen and prepare the morning’s coffee pot.

There were clicking and beeping noises at the front door, like someone trying to get in the building without permission. Shiira dropped his head, sighing with second-hand embarrassment. “Shirayuki! You have to swipe, wait for the click, then pull!”

Shirayuki swiped her badge and pulled the door handles immediately—not waiting for the click. “It’s not working, Shiira!” she shouted, voice muffled by the glass between them.

“Fuck it, just press the button and let her in,” Kai huffed out, swirling his coffee cup. “There’s a line forming behind her.”

“No, she has to learn. Besides, that button is for the handicap,” Shiira explained, facepalming, walking toward the doors. What will they do without him, he thought.

Before Shiira could manually open the door, there was a commotion behind the growing crowd. “Excuse me, I got this. Morning, Shiira.” Obi shoved his way to the front of the line. “You’re an embarrassment, Miss.” He grabbed Shirayuki’s badge, tugging it harshly and nearly crashing her face to wall.

“It doesn’t work, Obi,” she insisted, a tinge of red growing on her cheeks.

Obi swiped her card, waited half a second and pulled the doors open. He glared down at Shirayuki, his face so close they could almost kiss. He flicked her badge out of his fingers, letting it smack into her nose. “It works.” Shiira wedged the door open, letting the rest of the cattle in. He nodded lightly at each one, softly greeting them a good morning.

Shirayuki and Obi dragged inside, bickering on their way in. “You’re such an ass, Obi,” Shirayuki snapped, arms crossing against her chest. “Morning, Shiira. Morning, Kai,” she said chirpily, her tone completely different from a second ago.

Obi whistled, hands behind his head, hips grazing Shirayuki’s as they walked side by side. “You mean a hot ass,” he said, winking at Kai. “Whatever you say, Miss.” He opened the office doors for her, one hand gently placed at the small of her back, corralling her in.

Shiira caught Obi’s impish smile toward Shirayuki and watched the doors slam as they went in.

“Oh, my God. Those two hate each other,” Kai chimed in, elbowing Shiira. “Seriously, they have so much tension, you could cut it with a knife.”

Shiira gave him a quizzical look. “You mean sexual tension.”

Kai nearly choked on his last drops of coffee. “Yeah, right! Obi and Shirayuki? When pigs fly. She’s in love with Zen.”

Shiira shrugged and kept his next thoughts to himself. They were security guards, fo goodness sakes. Water-cooler gossip was for the bored and useless workers…they were professionals.

“Speak of the devil.” Shiira darted toward the entrance. Zen walked in with so much confidence like he owned the building. He practically did—owning thirty-five percent of shares in the company.

“Good morning, you two. Did my package arrive?” Zen said coolly.

Shiira nodded his head, ducking down to the desk and taking out a large, but lightweight, package. “It arrived late yesterday, sir.”

Zen shook it like he was guessing the contents inside.

“What’s inside, if you don’t mind sharing,” Kai asked. He was nosey, but always polite about it.

Zen flashed him a smile. “A suit I’ll be wearing tonight.”

He headed toward the office doors but stopped suddenly like he had forgotten something. “Oh, by the way, hold my calls around noon,” he started, a hand on the doorknob, “I’m having lunch with Shirayuki.”

Kai nodded fervently, a giggle forming at the back of his throat. When the door had finally shut, he squealed like a little girl.

“Oh, my God, he’s so in love with her.”

Shiira shook his head. “They’re just having lunch, idiot.”

“Yeah, but he asked to hold his calls. When has Zen ever asked to hold his calls on his lunch break?”

Shiira lifted a finger, but Kai interrupted him instead. “Never. The answer is never, Shiira.”

The caterers and decorators checked in at different times. It was already a busy day for the two guards and it was barely 1:00 PM.

The interns had their lunches delivered to them—a perk Izana gave them earlier in the year.

“An ice sculptor? For reals?” Kai lifted an eyebrow, double-checking the guest list. “God, the boss is a little extra this Christmas.”

“Why are you complaining? It’s not your money he’s flashing.”

The room echoed in giggles and laughs. Shirayuki and Zen smiled brightly at each other, both carrying doggy bags from the Italian restaurant across the street.

“The tiramisu is amazing,” Shirayuki said, green eyes lighting up.

Zen narrowed his eyes down at her, a coy smile tugging at his lips. “I figured. You ordered two of them!”

Shirayuki hid behind a hand, face turning red as her hair. “Well, I wanted to save one for…”

“Hey, you two!” Kai shouted, waving them toward him. “You guys should check out the room! There’s fake snow, dude! And mistletoes everywhere!”

Zen and Shirayuki exchanged shy looks, then turning their heads to the side. “Well, I got a lot of work to finish before the party,” Shirayuki blurted out. “Thank you for lunch, Zen.”

Zen nodded, one hand massaging his neck as he cleared his throat. “Yeah, no problem. See you tonight?”

Shirayuki smiled at him, walking inside the office without another word. Zen followed after, chuckling to himself as he closed the doors.

“Oh, my God. They are so in love,” Kai chirped.

Shiira lifted an eyebrow, his lips straight as a line. “More like friends. Did you see how far apart they were?”

The conference room transformed into a Winter Wonderland. NSYNC’s “Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays” blasted through the speakers, and Shiira found himself bopping his head along.

“Money can buy you happiness,” he observed, grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s a wonderful feeling, with the love in the room from the floor to the ceiling…” Kai sang along, snapping his fingers on beat. His eyes darted to the bar and he stopped singing. “Shiira, I gotta go. There’s a drink over there that’s eyeing me.”

Shiira walked around the room, watching people immersed in their conversations. There were a lot of them wearing Santa suits. How original, he thought. He headed toward the photo booth, adjusting his tie like he was going to take his school pictures.

The booth was occupied. Red Santa pants with black shoes peeking right below the curtain stops. There was a giggle and a soft moan inside.

Shiira hesitated to move, but wondered if he should come back in a few minutes to give the two occupants some privacy. The moaning continued, two lips smacking against each other as Shiira patiently waited for his turn.

The shutters stopped clicking, but the two occupants continued their romp inside the booth. Shiira glanced over to the dance floor, catching Kai’s gaze. Kai was goofily dancing, arms flailing over his head. Shiira was ready to join him when his eyes dropped to the photo strip that fell on the floor.

Holy shit. Shiira picked up the photo, his eyes flew open in surprise. There was only one red-head in the building, and the pictures showed her face buried inside a fake white beard. It was impossible to recognize the Santa, especially since the four pics had his face underneath Shirayuki’s jaws, neck, and behind her ears.

He placed it back inside the printing station and bolted toward the dance floor. Not my business, he said to himself.

“This party is lit, Shiira!” Kai shouted into his ear. It was electronic music, remixed in between Christmas tunes by Nat King Cole.

Shiira glanced over to the DJ Booth and saw Mitsuhide—Zen’s assistant—controlling the knobs. “Of course he’s playing electronica.” Everyone in the building knew Mitsuhide had shitty taste in music. But it was Christmas and he was smiling brightly and Shiira couldn’t help but smile as well.

Shiira and Kai grooved to the beat, popping and locking like two goofy robots with no rhythm. It had been a while since Shiira had let loose, and today was special.

“Hey, have you seen Shirayuki?” Kai asked, swaying his hips to “One More Time,” by Daft Punk. “Zen is looking for her.”

Shiira shrugged, moving his legs side to side. He loved this song and his body moved along naturally.

“No, I haven’t seen her,” he lied. He didn’t like lying to Kai, especially since he trusted him the most. This was big gossip and he did not feel like partaking in this kind of drama.

“Hey, Kai,” Shiira started, grinning from ear to ear. “Wanna take a shot? I Ubered here.”

Kai nodded violently, a squeal escaping him. “Fuck yeah, Shiira! It’s about time! Holy shit, it’s a Christmas miracle!”

They high-fived each other, eagerly walking to the bar, side by side.

#ss17 #submission #gift

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a-taller-tale · 7 years

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Stop Copying Me

Pairing: SimmonsWash for @swedishjazz. Prompt from the RvB Rare Pair Week Tag: “Stop copying me.” Set during S11.

***

It was hard to think with Simmons shadowing him around the base all day. And Wash needed to think to figure out a way to make sure the mantis-class military assault droid Caboose brought home didn’t kill anyone in this canyon, or their rescuers if anyone ever showed up. That would follow Wash’s luck lately.

It wasn’t just the fact that he was being followed. Caboose pre-“Freckles” had dogged his steps on and off frequently, and no matter how antagonistic Tucker had been acting lately, Tucker got lonely and frequently abandoned his training to show up wherever Wash was and chat.

But he’d gotten used to Caboose’s heavy footfalls and bounding energy and Tucker’s quieter gait. Simmons was…twitchy.

Jittery and nervous. He would become anxious at the drop of a hat and fidget constantly. He jumped at every sudden noise. While Red Base was undoubtedly louder, Sarge was the worst neighbor, Simmons wasn’t used to living with Blue Team and the usual sounds in their base either.

Simmons also complained, a lot. Loudly. All the time. Even when he was “quiet,” he was sighing or muttering to himself while he tinkered. And apparently expected to be summarily ignored. He jumped to follow every order Wash gave before the other two and then waited for praise, but he hadn’t listened to Wash ordering him to go home before he’d been locking into staying with them by Freckles’ guns. It was Simmons’ own fault he was here in the first place and his presence was an extra complication Wash really didn’t have the extra energy to deal with. So Wash tried to ignore Simmons’ presence as much as he was able to with the soldier following him around the base, and fidgeting and sighing, and projecting so much nervous energy you could see it in the air around him.

But on the second night, Wash found Simmons sitting at the table in their makeshift kitchen, blocking Wash’s access to much-needed caffeine.

Enough was enough. Wash could tolerate a lot. But Simmons following him around for the past two days every waking hour while they were under the gun, literally, and Tucker was still angry with him for trying to help them survive, he should at least be able to get a midnight cup of shitty military coffee in peace.

“Simmons. What are you doing here?”

Simmons jerked his head up, startled as always whenever Wash even turned a way he wasn’t expecting. Simmons’ eyes were red-rimmed and he clutched the beer he was nursing to his chest.

Oh.

So he hadn’t been stalking Wash for once.

“Sir. Uh- do you- Can I do something for you? Do you need an agenda? A spreadsheet? Ammo? Someone to cue the video?”

“Video?—Uh, no. I was just getting some coffee. And you don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ Simmons.” Wash said awkwardly.

“Sorry, Sir. Uh—Agent. Uh—you said you didn’t like D—“

“Washington is fine,” Wash said before Simmons could say ‘dad’ again. That was so awkward. “Or just Wash.”

He started preparing a pot of coffee while Simmons watched his every move. “I can’t believe you even found a coffee maker.”

“Didn’t you have one?” Wash asked. “I thought we found plenty of small kitchen appliances in the wreckage.”

“Grif tried to use it as a hot plate. It had a bad end. Sarge insisted on a funeral.” Simmons sighed almost wistfully. “I wonder what else Grif’s managed to destroy since I’ve been gone.”

“Well, Donut and Doc are over there now. They seem…clean.”

“But Donut’s way more destructive! I bet the silverware is completely out of order.”

Wash thought about what order silverware might be in, and then briefly why anyone would spend time putting silverware out of order, before he decided he didn’t care. The Reds were weird. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you back to your team as soon as we figure out how to deal with… the situation.”

The situation being Caboose’s “pet” and making sure they had radio contact with someone competent enough to rescue them this time. Simmons nodded, idly ripping at the label on the beer bottle.

It was strange how some parts of the ship were so untouched that they had found glass bottles that hadn’t been broken, and yet so many people hadn’t fared the same way.

“Simmons, why did you come over here?”

“Sarge ordered us to spy on—to investigate—Er… to see how you were doing.” Simmons said. “Since I was over here anyway I thought I might see what you were doing differently over here. Your base is so clean.”

Simmons was apparently a lush. There was a flush to his cheeks and he finished the beer, getting more worked up with every passing word. “Tucker bitches a lot but he actually does what you say! No one ever listens to me. People seem to respect you. I try to keep things neat and organized and they never listen to me like that… Even with all the stuff you did—“

Wash winced and Simmons winced harder. “I mean that’s water under the bucket, Sir. Uh, bridge. I mean, uh—I didn’t—“ Simmons’ fists were clenched, digging his nails into his palms and Wash remembered that. The need to please and failing miserably at every turn, but he still had no idea why Simmons was directing that feeling at him.

The… hero worship for someone who killed one of his comrades in front of him. Who interrogated him and held him hostage... Simmons was also sort of being held hostage now too. But this time it was not Wash’s fault.

A therapist probably wouldn’t think of any of that as healthy for anyone. Not that Wash put much stock in mental health professionals after the experiences he’d had.

But there was something he should say to Simmons.

“I never said I was… sorry, to you.”

Simmons caught on to what he was trying to say immediately, and actually made direct eye contact so he could wave him off. “We hit you with the car afterwards. And we threw your friend off a cliff. While he was trying to take my friend with him- Doesn’t matter. I know you’re still the newbie—Sir—But we don’t talk about feelings on Red Team.”

The little show of backbone compelled Wash to sit down with him, mug of coffee in hand. Simmons started a little at the chair scraping, but didn’t seem scared. “Simmons, you’re on Blue Team right now. We sometimes talk about feelings.”

“But I didn’t bring my calligraphy pen!”

“—What?” He still had no idea what these guys were talking about sometimes, even after months with them. It’s like their experiences had become an entire inner world he wasn’t quite a part of yet, but for good or ill it felt like he was getting there. “You don’t need a calligraphy pen. I…owe you my time if you want it.”

“How do you get people to listen to you?” Simmons blurted out eagerly. He tried to take another sip of his beer, realized it was empty and opened another.

Tucker was going to be annoyed, but he’d been half-assing his squats lately so Wash didn’t feel the need to stop Simmons. Tucker had let him come over, so any beer he drank was on Tucker. Meanwhile, Simmons was rapt waiting for his answer. The private seemed equal parts fear and inexplicable admiration.

Wash thought about it. “I suppose it’s… confidence and experience. I’ve proven my advice can be trusted in a military and survival context.”

Simmons deflated. “Confidence…Okay.”

“You might have a confidence problem, but you have a lot of experience. And you’re respected more than you think. Your team trusted you to organize their resources, and the base.”

“Neither of them wanted to do it, and I built it under a radioactive ship engine…”

That... was a good point. “They also came right over to rescue you.”

“Except I committed treason again, and when Freckles showed up they ran away.”

“Treason? Again? –Never mind.” Oh god, he was the worst at comforting people. What would North have said? He was always better at that stuff. Actually, North had never successfully comforted him. And Carolina was always supportive, well until that last leg… Maybe he didn’t have the best examples. “All you can do is try, Simmons. You try a lot. Maybe they act like they don’t appreciate it, but they’ll miss everything you do for them.”

“Yeah, I’ll get shot by the giant killer robot and then they’ll be sorry,” Simmons grumbled.

“Why don’t we say that Sarge and Grif alone for a few days with only Donut as a buffer will straighten them out?” Wash instinctively reached out and gave Simmons’ shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Simmons almost dropped his beer, eyes widening, ears and cheeks going redder than just the flush from the alcohol. “Um.”

Maybe giving him some one-on-one time could be good for both of them. Simmons was savoring the attention, and he seemed a lot more relaxed around Wash now. It would be strategic to have an ally among the Reds once they got Simmons back to his team.

“You should get some sleep,” Wash said. “After Caboose gives us our orders in the morning, maybe I’ll show you… the journal.”

Simmons perked up. “The journal?”

“It’s more of an organizational system. Sections for supplies on hand, training schedules, strategies for rescue...”

Simmons’ fingers started twitching. “Organized alphabetically?”

“Color coded.”

“Oh my god,” Simmons moaned. “Tomorrow,” Wash promised.

#rvb #rvb fic #simmonswash #rvbrarepairweek #my writing

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networkingdefinition · 5 years

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Noodles Quotes

Official Website: Noodles Quotes

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• 3 years ago I was stocking shelves at Target, living on Ramen noodles, and crashing at Billy’s house. Now I’m on tour – Benji Madden • A lot of people in this country are obese because of a form of malnutrition. One thing I’d like to do is to help people understand the correlation between a steady diet of empty calories – though you may not experience hunger pangs, you can’t really function well if all you’re eating are things like ramen noodles, or chips, cookies, and sodas, things that are quite typically inexpensive and affordable because of the way we subsidize the ingredients that go into them. – Lori Silverbush • A professional player is smarter than a college man. He uses his noodle. He knows what to do and when to do it. He rarely goes up in the air as is the case with most of our college players when they get in a tight place. – Red Grange • All the dreamers in all the world are dizzy in the noodle! – Edie Adams • Almost anything can be stretched to serve more people by being added to a white sauce or canned gravy or undiluted or very slightly diluted canned soup and served over noodles or rice. With chops or chocolate eclairs, however, the only solution is to claim you don’t like them. – Jo Coudert • And what have I done?” What? WHAT?…You’ve stolen them.” With that, Cornelia fled, but Buttercup understood; she knew who “them” was. The boys. The beef-witted featherbrained rattledskulled clodpated dim-domed noodle-noggined sapheaded lunk-knobbed BOYS. – William Goldman • As a musician and a guitar player, I can noodle as well as anybody. But from my background as a session musician, I always try to play what is called for by the lyric and listening to the song. As a writer, that’s what I do, too. – Richie Sambora

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Noodle', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_noodle').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_noodle img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Because real thoughts come from outside and travel with us like the noodle soup we take to work; in other words, inquisitors burn books in vain. If a book has anything to say, it burns with a quiet laugh, because any book worth its salt points up and out of itself. – Bohumil Hrabal

• But I couldn’t draw as fast as she requested. Thus, I tried to create the worst abomination of a comic that I could, so as to make her not want comics anymore. That abomination, my friends, was Happy Noodle Boy. – Jhonen Vasquez

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• Can’t make chicken salad out of chicken noodle – Mike Ditka • Carbohydrates, and especially refined ones like sugar, make you produce lots of extra insulin. I’ve been keeping my intake really low ever since I discovered this. I’ve cut out all starch such as potatoes, noodles, rice, bread and pasta. – Cynthia Kenyon • Censure is a limp noodle across the wrist of the president. I think the way we vote on the articles will express the way we feel stronger than any censure vote. – Larry Craig • Even now, when I do a slide show of the Geek Squad story, the first slide is a photo of ramen noodles. Because for me, ramen noodles are the international symbol for struggle. – Robert Stephens • He’s smaller than me, did you see him? He looked like a noodle next to me. – Adrien Broner • I can make things, but I don’t cook them, exactly. Like salmon, I can stick that in a pan. Or the other day I made noodles, but they were hard. It never occurred to me to check them; I just stopped cooking them when I felt they were ready. Really, I’m too absentminded. – Paula Poundstone • I cook everything. I love Mediterranean cooking, I love Asian cooking. I do lots of Japanese noodles. – Ted Allen • I don’t put cream in any pasta noodles ever. I would use a little butter, but I don’t ever use cream. – Mario Batali • I hate to admit this but I don’t even know how to make a cup of tea or coffee. I can boil a kettle for a pot noodle and I’ve been known to warm up some food in the microwave. – Michael Owen • I have a rescue dog named Fideo, which means ‘noodle’ in Spanish, and a cat named Hutch. – Ana Ortiz • I love Chinese food, like steamed dim sum, and I can have noodles morning, noon and night, hot or cold. I like food that’s very simple on the digestive system – I tend to keep it light. I love Japanese food too – sushi, sashimi and miso soup. – Shilpa Shetty • I remember when I couldn’t afford to eat like this. It was ramen noodles and the San Francisco Treat [Rice-A-Roni]. Dessert? Get you a honey bun and put a slice of cheese on it. Put it in the microwave for 45 seconds and you had the gift of a lifetime. – Rick Ross • I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘cooking’ but I can make noodles. That means I can boil water, put the pasta in and wait until it’s done. – Devon Werkheiser • I’m not as good as a man as you are, Sundown. I find it hard to give an enemy my back under any circumstance.” – Ren “Oh, I didn’t say I was giving her my back. I’m not lacking all my noodle sense. But I’m not holding a grudge neither. Sometimes you just got to let the rattlesnake lay in the sun.” – Sundown “Men? You do know I’m standing in this little box with you and can hear every word?” – Abigail “We know. I merely don’t care.” – Ren – Sherrilyn Kenyon • If it’s possible, I will have some noodles in the morning and start talking to people, start to think about a few things in my head – the project or a few ideas which are not finished or if there are possible directions and what will lead into another game. It’s always like setting up some kind of game you can continuously play. – Ai Weiwei • If you think you can lead your flock of sheeple and peeps to some glorified noodle fest on the mall, you got another thing coming, mister. – Stephen Colbert • I’m Italian. I love to cook Italian food, so I learned from my dad how to make sauce and meatballs and all that stuff. With my wife and kids, I started making homemade pasta. The very first time, I didn’t have a pasta maker, so I had to cut it with a knife, the old-school way! The noodles were all jacked up, but it was fun. – Joey Fatone • I’m layering away: sauce, noodles, I belong to you, cheese, sauce, my heart is yours, noodles, cheese, I hear your soul in your music, cheese, cheese, CHEESE. – Jandy Nelson • I’m not the kind of guy who sits around at home and writes songs. Once in a while I’ll pick up a guitar and noodle around, but it’s rare. – Scott Ian • Instructions for Adam Look after no one except yourself. Go to university and make lots of friends and get drunk. Forget your door keyes. Laugh. Eat pot-noodles for breakfast. Miss lectures. Be irresponsible. – Jenny Downham • It turns out that Molly wasn’t her mother’s daughter in that respect. Charity was like the MacGuyver of the kitchen. She could whip up a five-course meal for twelve from an egg, two spaghetti noodles, some household chemicals, and a stick of chewing gum. Molly … Molly once burned my egg. My boiled egg. I don’t know how. – Jim Butcher • Life was so much simpler in pre-video days when everyone refused invitations because the ‘Forsyte Saga’ was on. Now we all just have a long list of unwatched shows, all of which, it seems, our friends are raving about. I feel as outdated as if I wore a Fair Isle sweater, ate Pot Noodle and had a two-bar electric fire in the sitting room. – Simon Hoggart • Memory, in my opinion, is a complete noodle. It hangs on the silliest things but forgets the stuff that really matters. – Ellen Potter • My grandmother was a kind of Scarsdale, New York, society woman, best known in her day as the author of the 1959 book ‘Growing Your Own Way: An Informal Guide for Teen-Agers’ – this despite being a person whose parenting style made Joan Crawford’s wire hangers look like pool noodles. – Sloane Crosley • My mom cooked pot roast with noodles and frozen vegetables. Or she’d make spaghetti or hot dogs, or heat up TV dinners. Before I started modeling at age 19, I was 5’8″ and weighed 165 pounds. – Carol Alt • Noodles are not only amusing but delicious. – Julia Child • OH KYO KUN! Isn’t it said that eating pink noodles turns you into a horny pervert?! – Natsuki Takaya • Once you’ve started a film you don’t become a wet noodle. You must have that conflictual interface because you don’t know, and they don’t know. It’s through conflict that you come out with something that might be different, better than either of you thought to begin with. – Jack Nicholson • Peace will come to the world when the people have enough noodles to eat. – Momofuku Ando • Ramen is a dish that’s very high in calories and sodium. One way to make it slightly healthier is to leave the soup and just eat the noodles. – Masaharu Morimoto • Sam was starting to feel anxious. Nutella and noodles were fine. Great in fact. Miraculous. But he’d been hoping for more food more water more medicine something. It was absurdly like Christmas morning when he was little: hoping for something he couldn’t even put a name to. A game changer. Something…amazing. – Michael Grant

• She led him past the engine room, which looked like a very dangerous, mechanized jungle gym, with pipes and pistons and tubes jutting from a central bronze sphere. Cables resembling giant metal noodles snaked across the floor and ran up the walls. “How does that thing even work?” Percy asked. “No idea,” Annabeth said. “And I’m the only one besides Leo who can operate it.” “That’s reassuring.” “It should be fine. It’s only threatened to blow up once.” “You’re kidding, I hope.” She smiled. “Come on. – Rick Riordan • Since I’ve been on my own, I’ve been eating a lot of popcorn, cereal, instant noodles, and snack bars. I have a hot plate in my bedroom, a microwave, and a small fridge. That’s the kind of kitchen I know how to get around in. – Karen Marie Moning • Spaghetti… I can’t eat spaghetti, there’s too many of them. No matter how hungry I am, 1,000 of something is too many. I’ll have 1,000 pieces of noodles. – Mitch Hedberg • ‘Tampopo’ is a deeply odd film about Japan, ramen noodles, love and sex. It made me very hungry and desperate to travel to Japan. It started my love affair with this amazing country, its culture, its food, its cinema and made me buy my first ticket to the land of the rising sun. – Jamie Cullum • The boys. The village boys. The beef-witted featherbrained rattleskulled clodpated dimdomed noodle-noggined sapheaded lunk-knobbed boys. How could anybody accuse her of stealing them? Why would anybody want them anyway? – William Goldman • There’s a Polar Bear In our Frigidaire– He likes it ’cause it’s cold in there. With his seat in the meat And his face in the fish And his big hairy paws In the buttery dish, He’s nibbling the noodles, And munching the rice, He’s slurping the soda, He’s licking the ice. And he lets out a roar If you open the door. And it gives me a scare To know he’s in there– That Polary Bear In our Fridgitydaire. – Shel Silverstein • There’s only one rule in photography – never develop colour film in chicken noodle soup. – Freeman Patterson • We can do anything. It’s not because our hearts are large, they’re not, it’s what we struggle with. The attempt to say Come over. Bring your friends. It’s a potluck, I’m making pork chops, I’m making those long noodles you love so much. – Richard Siken • When beetles fight these battles in a bottle with their paddles and the bottle’s on a poodle and the poodle’s eating noodles… …they call this a muddle puddle tweetle poodle beetle noodle bottle paddle battle. – Dr. Seuss • When I would feel down…I’d have some noodles father prepared, and all the worries I had that day…Poof! They would all disappear. – Kim Young-kwang • Yes, but I’ve already made my fortune in other things. (Solin) Such as? (Geary) Viagra. My brother learned to take a personal problem and profit by it. (Arik) It’s true. It pained me to see a man as young as Arik stricken with impotency. Therefore I had to do something to help the poor soul. But alas, there’s nothing to be done for it. He’s as flaccid as a wet noodle. (Solin) How creative of you to project your problem onto me. But then, they say celibacy is enough to make a man lose all reason. Guess you’re living proof, huh? (Arik) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • You can’t be wishy-washy. That’s the most boring thing in the world, to be a middle-of-the-road wet noodle. That’s my greatest fear, to be like, “Oh, whatever.” That’s just not who I am. – Chris Black • You have to find a group that really desperately cares about what it is you have to say. Talk to them. They have something I call otaku. It’s a great Japanese word. It describes the desire of someone who’s obsessed to, say, drive across Tokyo to try a new Ramen noodle place ’cause that’s what they do, they get obsessed with it. – Seth Godin • You noodle around with tempo and sound until you get the perfect fit for that particular song, and then, so long as you can sustain it, God is on your side and everything comes easily and even the waiters smile. – Wilfrid Sheed • Zen is to religion what a Japanese “rock garden” is to a garden. Zen knows no god, no afterlife, no good and no evil, as the rock-garden knows no flowers, herbs or shrubs. It has no doctrine or holy writ: its teaching is transmitted mainly in the form of parables as ambiguous as the pebbles in the rock-garden which symbolise now a mountain, now a fleeting tiger. When a disciple asks “What is Zen?”, the master’s traditional answer is “Three pounds of flax” or “A decaying noodle” or “A toilet stick” or a whack on the pupil’s head. – Arthur Koestler • Zerts’ are what I call desserts. ‘Trée-trées’ are entrées. I call sandwiches ‘sammies,’ ‘sandoozles,’ or ‘Adam Sandlers.’ Air conditioners are ‘cool blasterz’ with a ‘z’ – I don’t know where that came from. I call cakes ‘big ol’ cookies.’ I call noodles ‘long-ass rice.’ Fried chicken is ‘fry-fry chicky-chick.’ Chicken parm is ‘chicky-chicky-parm-parm.’ Chicken cacciatore? ‘Chicky-cacc.’ I call eggs ‘pre-birds,’ or ‘future birds.’ Root beer is ‘super water.’ Tortillas are ‘bean blankets.’ And I call forks ‘food rakes.’ – Aziz Ansari

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

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equitiesstocks · 5 years

Text

Noodles Quotes

Official Website: Noodles Quotes

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