#perhaps a little more sodium chloride next time...

[xenomorphicdna]

No fucking clue why you are awake this early

Are you alright ?

Ok so I'm gonna do this thing called resetting my sleep schedule,,, and im gonna do that by not sleeping at all

We goin full loop

[thisisthevoice]

whenever i say im intj on this site i feel the need to add a disclaimer. i do not believe in it its astrology for ppl who think theyre too good for astrology i just think intj jokes are funny

[susielesbianism]

[ID: A meme featuring a digitally drawn person wearing sunglasses that has been edited to look like Berdly from Deltarune. He is smirking and holding a wing up to his head as if to tap his forehead. There are a series of complex mathematical equations surrounding his head and below him is text that reads: “Why am I laughing? Apologies, my friend. It’s just that, as an INTJ, these illogical actions of yours… well, I find them to be amusing. What’s that? A free sample of your store’s new crispened potato snacks? Not necessary. I’ve already calculated its flavor in my head. Mmm… perhaps a little more Sodium Chloride next time…” End ID]

What a birdbrain amirite

[deerangle3]

Can you write a short scenario about me feeding a singular fry to plush barou

at first he resisted. he wasn't hubgry, or so he said. perhaps it was also because he physically could not open his mouth, due to being a plushie. therefore he was also lacking the needed organs to consume and digest this fry. but that wouldn't stop mao. mao Was determined. it was feeding time, whether barou wanted or not...

"i see..." they said, smirking. mao set down tiny barou, beside him the lone fry. she went to gather a few candles, salt and the blood of a freshly decapitated kuon.

preparations for a ritual.

mao drew a circle with the salt and placed barou right in the middle. ontop of him they would put more salt, covering the entire Torschützenkönig. next up, mao would take the blood and draw a pentagram over the salt circle, slightly larger. at every point of the Star, a candle.

mao lit each candle with caution. these steps had to be followed exactly, no mistakes shall be made.

'now I must recant these words...' mao thought to themself.

"תן לו לחיות. התפללו לו איברים שמהם יוכל לצרוך שבב יחיד. התפללו לו חיים. בארו בארו אוהב אותך".

the first part. now all that was missing were the three chants to summon a spirit.

"מלך השערים"

the ground shook slightly.

"מלך השערים"

a rumble was heard, very distant yet so close.

"מלך השערים"

all the candles went out at once. the salt was dispersed throughout the room. mao stood in anticipation. a large, roughly 9 foot tall dark figure appeared infront of her.

it spoke in a demonic tone, mao couldn't understand, yet she knew exactly what it asked, what it wanted and what it would give.

mao grabbed a heart she had in her pocket.

it was kuons, still warm, very slimy.

she held out the heart with two hands. the entity absorbed the organ and it's eyes lit up a bright, fierce red.

"אני מבקש שתיתן לו חיים".

mao spoke with confidence. the creature sure was intimidating, but this was for barou.

the amalgamation of nightmares started disintegrating into a black dust. all the salt had turned a deep red, hardly distinguishable from the color you would see from the deepest pit of hell, the torturous fires of the pandemonium, a violent black.

the room cleared. mao took a deep breath of relief. the little pole of salt in wich plush barou lay, began to move.

"it worked!" mao cheered as they saw tiny plush barou poke his head out.

"what did you do?? loafer!"

"BAROUUUU!!!!" mao kneeled to hold the very small now living thing in her hands. "barou you're alive!"

"i can tell" barou looked away annoyed.

"put me down." he demanded looking back at mao, but mao Was already standing up and went to place barou back on her desk.

"not now barou, it's feeding time!" a wide cheery smile on her face. she grabbed the fry. by now it wasn't as crisp anymore, but it was surely tasty nonetheless.

"open wide." the smile formed into a devious grin.

"what If I don't??" barou asked annoyed. he could feed himself, he wasn't a toddler! although in his petite plush form he was very similar to one.

"you don't have a choice" she giggled, "now open up!"

"no tham-" he was abruptly cut off by a salty potato delicacy entering his oral cavern.

he had no choice. no power. he was but a tiny organism, completely at the disposal of mao.

'this is actually quite yummy...' barou thought to himself, annoyed that he would even think that.

though he would proceed to eat it. not like he had a choice, deity mao standing above him, gently force feeding him with a simple potato fry.

this wouldn't be the last time barou would taste the fine sodium chloride alongside this groundfruit, shaped into a rod.

[sbnkalny]

Why am I laughing? Apologies, my friend. It's just that as an INTJ, these illogical actions of yours…well, I find them to be amusing.

What's that? A free sample of your store's new crispened potato snacks? Not necessary. I've already calculated its flavor in my head. Mmm…perhaps a little more Sodium Chloride next time…

Why am i alive. In the Later actions of edge, Azel and the Seekers, the tower of worms. You're the last shred OF human events it becomes necessary for one free man, report him. civic deeds do not go. However, we Calculated that adding all that glunk. He had a contrary idea to make a little more time with US

[paramar]

ever since season two ended i've been calculating in my head how they will adapt some manga scenes like that INTJ meme. and i think it makes more sense to end the next episode with shigeo saying "and i'll make sure nothing gets in my way" instead of mob's on the ground, we all saw the trailers we know that happens. hmmm. perhaps a little more sodium chloride next time...

[moonrisecalamityretreat]

perhaps a little more Sodium Chloride next time... || hanji || trial 3.2 || re: yuriko, ikko

"Ahhh. Yeah, Nyako's right. Not only does it take a long ass while fer rust t'form, but th' rust on the carriage looked to have been sittin' there fer a while. Too old lookin' t'have been predetermined fer this here case."

Hanji speaks in the same way one would if you asked them where they went, and they simply responded that they had to go take a piss. And not only that-- are they unwrapping a granola bar right now?

Well, anything for stimulation, as they like to say.

"But then, that begs th' question o' th' water droplets," they muffle out, mouth full with sticky granola, "Well, them droplets on th' floor tasted salty. Considerin' there were no other traces o' wet 'nywhere, I reckon whoever dun'nit started cryin' after th' incident. Emotional 'nuff t'say sorry in blood I guess."

The granola bar had disappeared as fast as it had come out mid sentence, their cheeks now full of food.

"Eh. It could be an accidental killin'. Or sum'un might'a jus' taken advantage of what was already there, too. Maybe th' tears an' th' apology was jus' signs o' somebody's last-minute regret.

Well, whatever. Keep talkin' 'bout shards. That point's interestin'."

Thank you floor licker

[willowsdeus]

GIRL HELP WHATS THAT ONE MEME WHERE ITS LIKE THIS DRAWING OF A DUDE WITH GLASSES LOOKING SMUG AND THE CAPTION IS HIM BEING LIKE “haha I’m such an intellectual ENFP. I don’t need to eat those chips I’ve already eaten some in my mind. Hmmm… perhaps a little more sodium chloride next time”

That wasn’t it exactly because it’s so vague and yet so clear in my mind can ANYONE help me please.

[girldraki]

i’m gonna say it. daniil dankovsky would have “intj” in his twitter bio

[evilscheme]

Why am I laughing? Apologies, my friend. It's just that as an INTJ, these illogical actions of yours... well, I find them to be amusing.

What's that? A free sample of your store's new crispened potato snacks? Not necessary. I've already calculated its flavor in my head. Mmm... perhaps a little more Sodium Chloride next time...

[xenomorphicdna]

Ultrakill?? I am ultradying

Slfjsk so um I decided to try out the demo,,

I have like,, never really played first person games that need aim,, dlfjsjf

@anothermonikan I have a skill issue in your beloved robot game and this is how it's going

I will not survive future levels,,, save me,,

Having the time of my life tho, will be getting the full game later this week

[plumknodel]

What’s that? A free sample of your store’s new crispened potato snacks? Not necessary. I’ve already calculated its flavor in my head. Mmm…perhaps a little more Sodium Chloride next time…

[sovietunion]

What's that? A free sample of your store's new crispened potato snacks? Not necessary. I've already calculated its flavor in my head. Mmm.…perhaps a little more Sodium Chloride next time.

​

[wienerbarnes]

The Escape

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,717

Warnings: mind control ooooo, general violence, description of stealing a car that is wildly inaccurate bc ive.... never stolen a car, dues ex machina

A/N: some background about the reader! this one takes place before the last chapter of the original series, way before anything with bucky. this oneshot kinda recounts her prison escape 👀 not a lot of bucky in this one, but kind how the reader got to where she is and stufffff i love a good origin story

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

You didn’t sleep the entire night. How could you? How were you supposed to sleep when you know you’re waking up to your inevitable death?

You refused a last meal a few hours ago. What was the point? You didn’t have an appetite anyway.

All you could do was count the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until the footsteps would sound down the hall, arriving at your cell, the guards would stare at you through the bullet-proof glass wall, the only wall of four that wasn’t made of thick concrete.

They’d take you down to the observation room, they’d strap you down in the chair before asking for your final words. You’d stare out into the window of the observation room, unable to see through to the otherside, but knowing there’d be witnesses there. Maybe the families of people you killed. Maybe government officials, the ones who worked as hard as possible to get you this ending.

First, the sodium thiopental would be injected into your veins to sedate you. Then, the vecuronium bromide will be given that will send your body into paralysis. Finally, the potassium chloride will stop your heart. And your life will be over.

What a shame.

Too soon, your life was wasted. And too soon did the guards feet sound down the hall. And too soon did he arrive in front of your cell, ordering you to get up from your bed to shackle you.

He’s alone, you notice. Perhaps they don’t expect you to put up much of a fight.

Something snaps in your brain and before you realize you’re even doing it, you’re tapping into the young guard’s poor brain. He was a cop. A cop turned prison guard to spend more time at home, less time out in the world trying to catch bad guys. Never really bad guys, though, always just some unlucky soul caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Open the cell.” You tell him, finally through to his head. The keys jingle as he unlocks the three complicated locks attached to the side of the door.

You’re suddenly grateful for the hundreds of times they called you crazy, they called you a psycho, they told you you didn’t have powers, that that was your sad and sorry excuse of the reason for your crimes.

“Take off your clothes.” You order next. The young man begins to strip, taking off his clothes until he’s down to his underwear. White briefs with a blue waistband.

Once his uniform is on your body, you take everything he has, leaving his pistol with him.

“Shoot at everybody that comes in here.” You tell him, and he stares at you blankly, no longer in control of his actions as you take over.

You take a moment, closing your eyes and trying to concentrate on what the prison looks like, where the exits are, and where the guards are. You peek an eye open to glance at the man’s watch that now sits on your wrist, eight minutes until the shift changes.

Eight minutes for you to not fuck this up.

You close the cell door behind you, locking it, and making your way down the hall. You need to time this perfectly so that you’re slipping out as the other guards are leaving.

Just keep your head down, and get out as quickly as possible. Don’t talk to anyone. Just get out and start walking. You’ll get to the city eventually and you’ll hide out until you can keep making your way through New York. Maybe you’ll go to Jersey. Or up to New Hampshire.

Yeah, you’re just going to walk to New Hampshire, aren’t you?

Not a priority right now. Focus on getting out. A deep breath until you unlock the gate at the end of the hall, making your way out into another hallway. You visualize the map in your head once more and keep making your way down. You walk with confidence, head still slightly tilted down, but steps quick and light. Another guard turns the corner at the end of the hall and you make sure your steps don’t falter, and he walks right by you without a second thought.

You’re still unsure about the whole mind control thing. You don’t want to question it, because it seems to be pretty useful right now, but you don’t want to abuse it either, knowing your luck will eventually fail you.

It’s not long before you hear a gunshot ring out in the distance and you glance at a clock on the wall to see the shift change happening now.

You need to get out of here, now. Soon the guards will realize it’s you who’s missing from your cell and the search will begin. They’ll start with the entire grounds of the prison, which will hopefully buy you some time to make it to the city, if you sprint.

You finally make it to a more open area, exit signs now posted at the tops of doorways. You finally find a group of other men, some with bags or coats and you slip into the crowd, hoping that these are the guys leaving from their shift.

“Hey, have a good one, man. Tell the family I said hello.” A rough hand pats your shoulder before brushing past you.

Your stomach drops at the fact that these men are so unaware. So unaware that their real friend is in your cell, probably having a shootout with the new guards who just began their shift. The fact that these guards showed up to work today and the first thing they encounter is another guard in his underwear shooting at them.

Push it back. Push it back. Push it back.

As you’re huddled in between bodies, a bright light suddenly washes over your face. Sunlight. Your eyes burn at the feeling, a feeling so foreign having not felt it in months. You force them open though. You need to separate quickly, because not only do you not know where the parking lot is, you don't know which car is yours, you don’t have keys, and even if you did, you don’t know how to fucking drive.

Why did you never learn this! You never thought you’d need to since you decided you were going to join the military at sixteen, but you still should’ve fucking looked into it!

You don’t think you’ll make it walking. It’ll draw too much attention. The prison is in the middle of fucking nowhere and you’re just going to walk home? What would be worse is if someone offers you a ride.

New plan: find your car and hope it’s unlocked so you can sit inside until everyone leaves.

You know Hydra made you break into things before; houses, cars, etc. But you’ve tried to repress so much of that time that you can’t remember if you ever hot wired a car before.

You hope your luck doesn’t run out anytime soon.

Men arrive at their cars and the options quickly narrow down between an orange SUV and a black, fancy-looking car. You take your chances on the SUV.

It’s unlocked. It’s fucking unlocked. You shut the door and heave, feeling so hard to breath in the small space, but feeling relieved at the chance to finally make some noise and express your stress outside of that group of people you were stuck around.

“C’mon. C’mon! Fight or flight, c’mon, just make me know how to hot wire this.” You close your eyes, as though that will suddenly make the knowledge appear in your head. It doesn’t, surprisingly.

Until you look in the cupholder to see a dozen bobby pins. He probably has a daughter. “It’s going to have to do.” You mumble to yourself.

You quickly straighten them out and shove them into the small spot where the key goes. You twist and turn, holding a bunch of pins together to simulate an odd shape of the key, until finally you hear a click.

That’s gotta be good! Right? You go with it, continuing to twist until you hear a sputtering and crunchy sound of the engine starting.

This guy drives a piece of shit car. But it’s fucking on! You waste no time in putting the car into the drive before pulling out the lot. You make yourself extremely nauseous at your own driving, or rather, attempt at driving. You see in the rearview mirror the lights on the prison flashing, the bright red signaling that they’ve realized you escaped. You give yourself twenty minutes before they ditch the search of the prison grounds and look for you in the city.

Down the road you alternate between driving fifteen miles an hour to sixty, finding it so difficult to get a steady control of the car. But you’re doing it! You only need to make it to the city. That’s it.

“How the fuck do they make sixteen-year-olds do this shit?”

Eventually you get the hang of it. Still a terrible driver, but you at least don’t feel as scared driving among other cars. 

The longer you drive, the more it catches up to you what you’ve done. Soon enough, the tears come and so do the sobs. Until you stop a red light and let out a yell of agony, the stress and sadness washing through your body.

It’s hard, wanting to break down completely but having to keep your eyes open for the light to change, and having to pay attention to your surroundings. You find a small alleyway to pull into and you put the car in park before ditching it.

No time to cry, you can cry later. You peek around at the name of restaurants and stores around you, not recognizing any of them. You look at the street signs not recognizing those, either. You haven’t been around society in almost ten years, and you feel hopelessly and utterly lost.

You look around the alleyway and see a big dumpster. Just for a little while, you think. You lift the lid and climb inside, shutting the lid above you.

It’s dark, greasy, and the worst thing you’ve ever smelled, but it’s somehow better than where you were. You don’t know how much time has passed, but the noise outside the dumpster grows, and you make a guess that it’s around six or seven in the morning.

If you want to blend in with the crowd, you need to change your clothes. A prison guard outfit will most definitely make you stand out to people, especially when news breaks that there's a prison escapee on the loose.

When you finally lift the lid to stand up, you look to your left to see a teenager, probably not older than seventeen, staring at you, frozen, key in hand, seemingly to open up some store that you’re in back of.

He’s tall and lanky, and what makes him stand out to you the most is the spiky black hair he sports on his head and the thick black eyeliner around the rims of his eyes.

“You… okay?” He asks, clearly confused as to why a random woman in a prison guard outfit is hanging out in the dumpster behind her place of work. But you’re frozen. You don’t know what to say. You can’t imagine the last twelve hours I’ve been through, it won’t make much sense.

“Are you… hungry?” He asks when you don’t answer. “I’m, uh, opening now, but no one will be here for another hour or two when we actually open. I can make you something if you like?” He offers.

He thinks you’re homeless. Which, you are, technically. But he doesn’t recognize you. Perhaps you haven’t made the news yet, but it’ll only be a matter of time.

You finally nod, climbing out of the dumpster bin and walking over to where he holds the door open for you.

You devour the sandwich he makes you, a simple ham and cheese on white bread, but it’s the best thing you’ve eaten in, well, a decade.

“How long have you been homeless for?”

“Are you from New York?”

“What’s your zodiac sign?”

“What’s your favorite band?”

So many questions come from the curious kid, kindness radiating from him. Casual conversation ensues, and you’re careful not to give too much away.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you swallow the last bit of sandwich.

“How do I get to Brooklyn from here?”

“You’re in Brooklyn, silly.” He responds and your eyes widen a bit, not thinking you’d get this lucky.

“Sorry, that came out kinda insensitive,” He apologizes, picking up your plate, “It’s not like you have a GPS or anything. Anywhere you’re trying to go in particular?”

You have a flash of a vision, Bucky sleeping soundly in his apartment, as the sun shines through in orange cracks in his blinds. Your mind envisions the building, where it is, what it looks like, and how you can get there. Why is your mind and body wanting to lead you to where Bucky is? If you’re trying to lay low, why does your vision want you to go to what’s the third most recognizable government figure in the country, after the President and Captain America?

“Uhm… to see a friend. I guess I wasn’t trying to go, but I have a lot of… free time now, so. Just don’t know what I’d say to him.” You tell the boy, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. You’re not looking forward to the rest of the day, or week, or month, or life.

“Why don’t you write a note? That’s what I do; when I don’t think I can say the right thing, I write it instead. I can give you some paper and an envelope.” He offers.

This kid has got to be my guardian angel personified, you think. What are the fucking odds?

“You should take it with you, though. I gotta open up soon, and I’m sure you don’t want to experience the morning rush of this place.” You read my mind.

“I’ll give you a change of clothes, too. Where’d you get that, anyway? Do you hang around dumpsters often? Is that one from a Halloween store?”

“Okay, that’s too much. You’ve already been so kind.” You refuse, ignoring the curious questions that shoot out of his mouth.

“Then don’t take it as me being kind, take it as me being mean. You smell like shit from that dumpster.”

You can’t help but laugh, and oh how good it feels. You never thought you’d laugh again, and here you are, giggling at being told you smell bad by some goth teenager.

Soon enough, you’re walking through the backways of buildings, in a crisp white t-shirt that smells of the cologne of a teenage boy, and note and envelope in hand. It takes you about forty five minutes to make it to Bucky’s apartment building, and it was only slightly less stressful that your walk out of that prison.

Through the glass door, you don’t see anyone at the front desk, so you open the door and step inside.

To your left you see a wall of mailboxes, and one large one at the bottom overflowing with letters and gifts. You take a wild guess and say that that one belongs to Bucky. You’ve heard he’s a pretty popular guy, along with the company he keeps.

You take the stairs to the eighth floor and the fourteenth room, hoping the 814 on that mailbox wasn’t random. You scribble out on your piece of paper, tearing it off and keeping the rest in case you need for another note in the future, or a snack. You bite at the blue bracelet on your wrist before it breaks and stick it in the envelope, tucking in the flap to close it.

You place it on the ground and silently press your ear to the door. You don’t hear him, but you hear the sound of the television, announcing your missing presence and the manhunt around the city. You take that as a cue to leave quickly.

Why you feel such a draw towards Bucky, you’re not sure, but for some reason, you have a feeling that leaving him this gift of sorts won’t come back to haunt you.

Perhaps it’ll even lead to the opposite.

[fenth-eiria]

Things I want drawn on my birthday Pt.1!

Elder Cadia : That’s the key slice of truth we need to complete the entire truth pie.

The Librarian: Ooh, can we get some actual pie?

Elder Cadia : I like the way you think.

The Librarian: Hey, you want a tarot reading?

Elder Cadia : Those are Pokemon cards.

The Librarian: You got a magikarp.

Elder Cadia : ...

The Librarian: It means 'fuck you'.

The Librarian: I’m 80% awesome 20% water and 100% handsome.

Elder Cadia : That’s 200%.

The Librarian: I’m twice the man you’ll ever be.

Elder Cadia : Do you even know what an amulet is?

The Librarian: Of course I do! I eat amulets sometimes. I like the ones with cheese and onions!

Elder Cadia : The Librarian, those are omelettes.

The Librarian: Oh. Then I’ve got nothing.

The Librarian: I'm gonna need a human skull but you can't ask why.

Elder Cadia : Only if you also don't ask why.

Elder Cadia : *pulls four pristine human skulls out of their bag*

The Librarian: ...

The Librarian, grabbing a skull: This one will do.

The Librarian, holding a fork: You know your talking a lot of shit for someone who has 2 perfectly good eyeballs each cost about $16,000 on the blackmarket.

Elder Cadia : ....

The Librarian: *lip smack*

Elder Cadia : A mosquito tried to bite me and I slapped it and killed it.

Elder Cadia : And I started thinking.

Elder Cadia : Like, it was just trying to get food.

Elder Cadia : What if I went to the fridge and it just slammed the door shut and snapped my neck?

The Librarian: Are you ok?

Elder Cadia : I think you're still suffering the effects of your party last night.

The Librarian: All I drank was Redbull!

Elder Cadia : How many?

The Librarian: Eighteen.

Elder Cadia : Come on, The Librarian! How any times do I have to apologize?

The Librarian: Once!

Elder Cadia : ...No.

The Librarian: I think it’s time I get my life in order.

Elder Cadia , narrating: But they did not get their life in order. In fact, they got drunk last night and fought a raccoon.

Elder Cadia : Can I have some water?

The Librarian: *starts chugging their water bottle*

The Librarian: *chokes from drinking too fast*

The Librarian: *spills water all over themself*

The Librarian, coughing: I don't have any water.

Elder Cadia : That sounds like a terrible plan.

The Librarian: Oh, we've had worse.

Elder Cadia : What do you have?

The Librarian: A KNIFE!

Elder Cadia : NO!

The Librarian: *holding a salt packet* It’s just a little sodium chloride.

Elder Cadia : Actually The Librarian, it’s salt.

The Librarian: That’s what I said, sodium chloride.

Elder Cadia : Uh The Librarian, that would be salt.

Elder Cadia : *takes salt packer from The Librarian* This is iodized table salt, which in addition to sodium chloride contains anti-caking agents and potassium iodate, which is added to prevent iodine deficiency. So not only are you being overly pretentious by insisting on using scientific terminology for everyday items, you are factually wrong. Your arrogance is your downfall, you annoying little shit.

The Librarian: Here you go, Elder Cadia , a nice hot cup of coffee!

Elder Cadia : It's cold.

The Librarian: A nice cup of coffee.

Elder Cadia : It's horrible!

The Librarian: Cup of coffee.

The Librarian: Cup of coffee.

Elder Cadia : I'm not sure if this even IS coffee.

The Librarian: C U P.

Elder Cadia : I made tea.

The Librarian: I don't want tea.

Elder Cadia : I didn't make you tea. This is my tea.

The Librarian: Then why did you tell me?

Elder Cadia : It's a conversation starter.

The Librarian: It's a horrible conversation starter.

Elder Cadia : Oh, is it? We're conversing. Checkmate.

The Librarian: Elder Cadia , you risked your life to save me!

Elder Cadia : And I’d do it again! And perhaps a third time! But that would be it.

The Librarian: Elder Cadia ...

Elder Cadia : Oh no, 'Elder Cadia ' in B flat.

Elder Cadia : You're disappointed.

The Librarian: What is this!?

Elder Cadia : That’s the weight of guilt. Give in to the nice side. Help those unfortunate, and make the guilt go away, my friend.

The Librarian: Ow! Make it stop!

Elder Cadia : Surrender to your kindness, The Librarian. It’s nice to be nice.

The Librarian: Your guilt is strong, my friend. But it is no match for the power of my selfishness!

Elder Cadia : *in a jail cell* What about my Miranda rights!? You’re supposed to say I have ‘the right to remain silent’”! NOBODY SAID I HAD THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT!

The Librarian: *in the cell next to them* You have the right to remain silent, what you lack is the capacity.

The Librarian: I have a new hoodie.

Elder Cadia : Wrong.

Elder Cadia : We have a new hoodie.

Elder Cadia : I found a note in one of my old word .docs that said Note to self: Get revenge on The Librarian.

Elder Cadia : Except I couldn't remember what I was supposed to get revenge for.

Elder Cadia : But I trusted my own judgment, so I went with it.

The Librarian: Hmm... I don't know what you were supposed to get revenge for, either.

Elder Cadia : I can only assume you got what was coming to you. Not 100 percent sure, though.

The Librarian: Well, whatever I did, I guess I deserved it.

Elder Cadia : Let that possibly be a lesson to you.

Elder Cadia : Who's in charge here?

The Librarian, shrugging: Usually whoever yells the loudest.

The Librarian: Isn’t a bit dangerous?

Elder Cadia : The Librarian, please. We’ve in a lot of unexpected predicaments before and we always escape unhurt.

The Librarian: ...

Elder Cadia : Okay, we sometimes escape unhurt.

The Librarian: ...

Elder Cadia : Alright, we escaped unhurt once... Then we hurt ourselves in the way home.

The Librarian: Are you an ‘arr’ pirate or a ‘yo ho ho’ pirate?

Elder Cadia : I’m a ‘I’m not paying $600 for photoshop’ pirate.

The Librarian: Why are you like this??

Elder Cadia : I used too much "No More Tears" shampoo as a kid and I haven't felt a single emotion since.

Elder Cadia : Dearly Beloved, we are here today to remember The Librarian, taken from us in the prime of life; when they were crushed by a runaway semi, driven by the Incredible Hulk.

The Librarian: Aww, you knew my favorite cause of death.

Elder Cadia : The Librarian! I thought you were dead!

The Librarian: No, just in deep cover.

Elder Cadia : ...But it was an open casket.

The Librarian: It was very deep.

Elder Cadia : *holding a salt packet* It’s just a little sodium chloride.

The Librarian: Actually Elder Cadia , it’s salt.

Elder Cadia : That’s what I said, sodium chloride.

The Librarian: Uh Elder Cadia , that would be salt.

The Librarian: *takes salt packer from Elder Cadia * This is iodized table salt, which in addition to sodium chloride contains anti-caking agents and potassium iodate, which is added to prevent iodine deficiency. So not only are you being overly pretentious by insisting on using scientific terminology for everyday items, you are factually wrong. Your arrogance is your downfall, you annoying little shit.

Elder Cadia : You look like a corpse that was just pulled out of the river.

The Librarian: Wrong. I look like a cool rock star who just OD'd in their own pool. Big difference.

The Librarian: We just ate. Why are you making pancakes?

Elder Cadia : For the dogs.

The Librarian: Why are you making pancakes for the dogs?

Elder Cadia : They don't know how.

The Librarian: So, what are we doing?

Elder Cadia : Wasting our lives.

The Librarian: I meant for lunch...

Elder Cadia : I know every song to ever exist it doesn't matter if it's from the past, present or the future.

The Librarian: Oh yeah? Then continue this.

The Librarian: I don't cook I don't clean-

Elder Cadia : So let me tell you how I got this ring.

Elder Cadia & The Librarian: .....

Elder Cadia & The Librarian: GOBBLE ME, SWALLOW ME-

Elder Cadia : What are amphetamines?

The Librarian: Drugs that can go on land and water.

Elder Cadia : Ohhhh.

The Librarian: How do tall people people possibly sleep at night when the blanket can't possibly cover you?

Elder Cadia : The Librarian, it's four o'clock in the morning.

The Librarian: So, you can't sleep, huh? Is it because of the blanket?

Elder Cadia : I know this isn’t going to end well and I don’t care. So don’t you try and stop me, The Librarian!

The Librarian: I wasn’t stopping you. I was asking if you had a spare camera so I can record this.

The Librarian: Don’t preach to me about romance, Elder Cadia . I had a three-way in a hot-air balloon.

Elder Cadia : *dangling from a rope over a pit of fire* Remember when I said I’d tell you when we’re in too deep?

The Librarian: Yes?

Elder Cadia : We’re in too deep.

Elder Cadia : The Librarian! For the love of god, please turn down that music. I have a hangover.

The Librarian: *blasting the mii theme at full volume* That sounds like a you problem, not a mii problem.

*Elder Cadia falls over*

The Librarian: Elder Cadia ! Are you alright?

Elder Cadia : Is that you, God?

The Librarian: What?

Elder Cadia : It's just, you sound a lot more like The Librarian than I expected.

The Librarian: Truth or dare?

Elder Cadia : Truth.

The Librarian: How many hours have you slept this week?

Elder Cadia :

Elder Cadia : Dare.

The Librarian: Go to sleep.

Elder Cadia : I don't like this game.

Elder Cadia : If it’s any consolation, they got me here on a very misleading text message.

The Librarian: Technically, you are about to be screwed in the biology room.

The Librarian: What are your three best qualities?

Elder Cadia : I’m hot, I have soft hair, and sometimes I cry because I love my friends.

The Librarian: What’s sexting?

Elder Cadia : I'm not having this conversation with you.

Elder Cadia : *shatters a window and climbs through it*

Elder Cadia : *turns around and helps The Librarian through it* Breaking and entering is wrong The Librarian.

The Librarian: Okay.

The Librarian: I thought you were going to give me a book recommendation or something.

Elder Cadia : *laughs* Book recommendation? I can’t read!

The Librarian: Alright, listen up you little shits.

The Librarian: Not you Elder Cadia . You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

The Librarian: Someone’s trying to break in. Call the cops!

Elder Cadia : *loads shotgun* I got this.

The Librarian: Last week you fell up the stairs, what do you mean-

*Elder Cadia sends more than 5 messages in a row*

The Librarian: I ain’t reading all that.

The Librarian: I’m happy for you tho.

The Librarian: Or sorry that happened.

Elder Cadia : *is visibly upset*

The Librarian: Elder Cadia , what happened? I haven't seen you like this since you found out candyland wasn't an actual country.

Elder Cadia : It’s nice to be wanted, you know?

The Librarian: Not by the law!

Elder Cadia : So what do you have planned for the future?

The Librarian: Lunch.

Elder Cadia : No, like long term.

The Librarian: Oh...um, dinner?

Elder Cadia : We’re all in this together. If one of us falls, we all fall. Nobody is expendable on this team.

The Librarian: Sounds fake but ok.

The Librarian: Just be careful, Elder Cadia !

Elder Cadia : *heading out the door* I'm always careful, The Librarian!

Elder Cadia : It's everything around me that's careless.

The Librarian: How are you today?

Elder Cadia : Please don’t make me think about my life.

Elder Cadia: That’s the longest worm I’ve ever seen.

The Librarian: That’s a snake.

[sass-and-suspenders]

Merlot & Mistletoe

GIF from big-brass-ego-deactivated201812

Pairing: Dr. Frederick Chilton x Reader

Author’s Note: Just some holiday fluff staring everyone’s favourite peacock

Frederick swirled his wine as he surveyed the room. As much as he loathed BSHCI’s annual Christmas party, he had to admit that the venue looked superb: white Christmas lights were strung about the room casting a warm glow, tasteful red and white floral arrangements adorned every table, and an impeccably decorated Christmas tree, one of the largest he’d ever seen, stood in the center of the room. From his position near the bar, Frederick spied a bunch of mistletoe hanging above the main doorway.

His mood quickly soured when his attention turned from the décor to his coworkers. All around him, his colleagues and their partners were enjoying themselves, which only seemed to amplify his own loneliness. Abandoned at his table while everyone else was mingling, Frederick began to list every insufferable thing about work holiday parties: forced small talk with coworkers whom he despised, barely edible food, overly loud Christmas music (and, god forbid, Christmas karaoke). Taking a sip of his drink, he added ‘wine only a step above grape juice mixed with antifreeze’ to his list.

And then he spotted you in the crowd and acknowledged that work parties did have some advantages.

In your bright red dress, Frederick was surprised he didn’t notice you sooner. You were surrounded by a group of people, talking animatedly with a large smile on your face. While he was too far away to make out what you were saying, he could hear faint sounds of laughter from the group.

You had started at BSHCI two months ago, filling-in for a psychiatrist on maternity leave. On your second day, you literally ran into Frederick, scattering the contents of the patient folders you were carrying across the hallway. It was during your stammered apology, as he helped you pick up papers, that Frederick first felt the butterflies in his stomach that always materialized whenever he saw you.

You turned your head, sensing someone’s eyes on you; realizing it was Frederick, you flashed him a smile. However, Frederick remained rooted in his seat, not daring to go over and say hello. Memories of the last time he mustered up the courage to speak to you flooded his mind. He had been a bundle of nerves, stumbling over his words and even calling you by the wrong name. You had laughed off his faux pas, telling him not to worry and then jokingly called him by the wrong name. That was perhaps what Frederick loved most about you: your kindness. Unlike everyone else in the hospital, you never mocked him. Come to think of it, Frederick couldn’t recall you ever saying a bad word about anyone.

In his seat, Frederick imagined what life would be like if only he were a little bolder. How he would be at your side, his arm wrapped around your waist; how he would proudly introduce you to everyone as his girlfriend; how you would go home with him at the end of the night; how he would find your red dress on his bedroom floor in the morning.

And then the thought hit him that you might already be seeing someone. You’d never mentioned anyone before, but Frederick still found himself anxiously turning his attention to the people around you, checking to see if they worked at the hospital or if there was someone unfamiliar who could be your date. A sense of relief washed over him when he didn’t find anyone, but it quickly dissipated when he observed one of the hospital’s board members lay a hand on your arm. Frederick bitterly noted that it was the youngest (and, according to the nurses, the handsomest) member of the board; the one with the pretentious name, the one who always parked his expensive cars haphazardly across multiple parking spaces, the one who was on the board due to his family’s connections and barely bothered to do any actual work.

His heart sank further as he watched the board member lean down to whisper something in your ear. While Frederick could hardly blame the man for flirting with you, he still found himself silently willing the massive Christmas tree to fall directly on Chauncey or Nigel or whatever his pompous name was.

It was in the midst of this death by Christmas tree fantasy, which now included the tree taking out several additional colleagues who Frederick found particularly unpleasant, that he noticed the nurse.

She wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, but Frederick had worked with enough criminals to notice the subtleties of human behaviour. Like, for instance, how the nurse’s wine glass was precariously full or how her gaze, which was focused on you, contained a predatory glint.

While Frederick was quick to piece together the nurse’s intention, he had no time to warn you. He could only sit and helplessly watch the scene unfold: the nurse pretended to trip, spilling her glass of red wine all over your dress. Frederick could tell you didn’t believe it was an accident (even from where he was sitting, he knew that the nurse would never win an Oscar), but you didn’t make a scene. Instead, you graciously accepted her fake apology before excusing yourself to go clean up.

With a mix of excitement and panic, Frederick realized that your path to the washroom would take you right past his table. His pulse quickened as you approached, the pounding of his heart drowning out all external noise. You were frowning slightly, head bent down, as you assessed the damage to your dress.

“Club soda!” Frederick exclaimed, the primitive part of his brain taking over, as you reached his table. He hated how his voice sounded an octave higher than usual.

You paused, turning to face him with a look of confusion. Frederick mentally berated himself; only two words into the conversation and he’d already managed to embarrass himself.

Clearing his throat, he started again. “Club soda will prevent the stain from setting. There’s some at the bar. I, uh, could go get it for you. If you want, that is.”

“That would be great -thanks!” You smiled brightly at him, and Frederick was sure he would develop heart palpitations from how quickly his heart was beating. “Meet me near the washroom?”

Frederick eagerly nodded, earning another smile from you. He knew it was irrational, but part of him hoped that, if he saved your dress, you’d start to see him in a different light, that maybe you would start to feel butterflies, too.

The instant you left, Frederick rushed to the bar, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. He feared that someone would swoop in and help you while he was away, causing him to lose his chance with you. When he found you, though, you were alone, blotting the wine on your dress with flimsy paper towels.

“Hey,” you greeted when you spotted Frederick lingering in the doorway. His arms were laden with bottles of club soda, making you wonder if there were any left at the bar. 

“Apologies for taking so long,” Frederick said stepping into the washroom, even though it had only been a few minutes since you last saw him. “I went to get some hand towels as well.”

“You’re amazing!” you beamed, helping him place the items on the bathroom counter. “I’ve had no luck with these paper towels –I think they’re actually making me look worse.” You gestured to a large splotch of wine on your dress.

“You look like a work of art,” he murmured as he studied you in your dress under the pretense of examining the stain. When he looked up at you, there was an unreadable expression on your face.

“I mean,” Frederick started to backtrack, realizing that he had voiced these thoughts aloud. “Your dress -it looks like a Jackson Pollock painting.”

He vaguely gestured to your dress as he prayed for the ground to swallow him up.

“Wine Whirlwind, 2019. Merlot on velvet,” You chuckled, drawing Frederick out of his embarrassment.

“Ah, yes, one of Pollock’s later works. I believe the MoMa is interested in acquiring it,” Frederick added, causing you to laugh harder. A feeling of pride shot through him when you laughed at his joke.

When the laughter died down, you and Frederick were left awkwardly staring at each other. Frederick fiddled with his signet ring, unsure if he was overstaying his welcome.

“So,” you said softly, touching the back of your neck and nodding towards the club soda. “Is there a trick I should know or…?”

“No trick,” Frederick shook his head. “You just pour it on the stain and allow it to sit for a few minutes.”

“Okay,” you paused for a moment before voicing the next thing on your mind. “There’s some wine on the back of my dress that I can’t quite reach -would you mind helping?”

You swept your hair away, revealing the dark red spot near your shoulder, as well as your neck. Frederick audibly swallowed. He envisioned himself placing kisses along the nape of your neck before unzipping your dress and letting it pool on the floor.

“Frederick?” You prompted, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“Y-yes, that’s fine,” Frederick choked out, closing the distance between you.

As he carefully poured club soda on the stain, Frederick attempted to push the images of you and your alluring red dress out of his mind. He knew that his infatuation with you was one-sided, that he was only getting his hopes up with these daydreams.

“Did you know,” he began, trying to turn his thoughts to a more monotonous topic but nearly losing his train of thought when he caught a whiff of your perfume. “It’s a misconception that sprinkling salt on wine stains will remove them. Red wine contains tannins, and sodium chloride actually sets those types of stains.”

“Hm, I had no idea,” you answered, your eyes downcast and lips pursed as you focused on the giant splotch of wine near the hem of your dress. “It’s a good thing you’re here -a few people told me to use salt.”

“I’m glad my experience is useful. My experience with chemistry, that is. I don’t know all of this because I constantly spill wine on myself. I’m perfectly capable of drinking from a glass,” Frederick babbled. He hated how being around you seemed to turn his brain into mush.

“Well, however you came to know about it, I’m grateful,” you said, catching his gaze in the mirror, a faint smile on your lips.

Frederick felt his cheeks redden as he muttered something incoherent in response.

The two of you worked in silence for the next few minutes, with Frederick stealing glances at you. He couldn’t help but smile at your pursed lips as you concentrated on tackling the stains. He’d noticed a similar expression on your face whenever you dealt with complicated cases.

When the work was done, you turned to him. “Thank you again for helping me, Frederick,” you grinned, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“O-of course,” he faltered, feeling the familiar flutter in his stomach intensify as your hand touched his.

“I should probably go home…My dress needs to dry and, honestly, I just want to change into my pajamas and watch TV.”

“Right,” Frederick said, trying not to sound disappointed. He wasn’t delusional enough to believe that the night would have ended with you declaring your love for him, but he thought you would at least offer to dance with him out of pity. “Allow me walk you out.”

You nodded, taking his hand as you exited the washroom. Frederick tried not to read too much into the gesture, instead focusing on the way your hand seemed to fit perfectly in his. His small moment of happiness was soon interrupted; as you were heading out, the nurse was coming in from a smoke.

“Oh, I hope you’re not going home! Is it because your dress is ruined?” The nurse asked, barely attempting to conceal her glee.

Frederick gained a small sense of satisfaction at the fact that the pompous board member had abandoned her and was chatting up someone else.

“Thank you for your concern, but my dress is fine. Frederick ended up saving the day,” you coolly replied.

“I’m glad I caught you,” Frederick directed to the nurse. While you were fine taking the high road, he certainly was not. “I was glancing through my patient files and noticed that your notes are a mess. I’ll need you to re-write them.”

“But Dr. Chilton-”

“And while you’re at it, you can also upload the files into the new online system. I’ll need it done by Monday morning, 9am sharp.” Frederick stared her down, ready to add more tedious tasks if she complained.

The nurse simply nodded, albeit with a large scowl on her face, before she left to rejoin the party. He was sure she muttered a few choice words about him under her breath as she stomped off.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” you glanced up at him, your hand still intertwined with his.

“She was being malicious. She intentionally spilled that glass of wine on you because she was envious of the attention you were getting. I’m not going to let her get away without repercussions. Besides,” he added, lightening the tone lest you find out his feelings for you and reject him. “Who says I did it for you? Maybe, I was avenging the wine she wasted.”

“Please, we both know it wasn’t for the wine -it was basically burgundy-coloured antifreeze,” you warmly smiled before your expression turned more serious. “You know, it’s amazing how you can notice some things and yet be completely oblivious to others.”

“I’m not oblivious,” Frederick scoffed.

“Oh, no, you are. Example number one: you’re standing under the mistletoe,” you smirked, pointing towards the ceiling.

Frederick glanced upwards, finding the bundle of mistletoe he’d noticed at the start of the evening directly above him. He felt his palms become sweaty and he was grateful that his facial hair would partially hide the redness creeping up his neck and cheeks.

“You don’t have to kiss me,” Frederick quickly remarked. “It’s fake anyway, so it wouldn’t be bad luck. I don’t expect-”

“Example number two,” you interrupted before leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Frederick barely registered what had happened before you were speaking again. “I’ve had a crush on you since we met.”

For once in his life, Frederick didn’t make a situation worse by rambling. Instead, he pulled you close and kissed you with all of the desire that built up over the last two months. With your lips on his, Frederick could hardly remember why he hated work parties.

In fact, he was looking forward to the next one.

Tag list: @madpanda75 @obsessionprofessional @madkingcrowley​ @im-like-reallythirsty @burningg-red @nikkijmorgan​ @misssirenlove​  @zoeykaytesmom @mommakat32​​