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icarus-suraki · 1 year ago

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Oh; apologies if I should already know this. I have a vague sense that I might, but my vague senses don’t match reality much of the time, and if I’m being honest the mismatch is probably growing.

But the question: are you actually a librarian, not just in terms of stereotypical perception of your appearance but in terms of your actual job? And if so (or if not) what are your thoughts on being a librarian?

Uh oh. Are you ready for my Tragic Backstory? (read in "heated basket" voice)

I am certified as a librarian--as in, I have an MLS (Master of Library Science) degree. And I made use of it for something like ten years until I basically had a mental breakdown lmao and now I'm an administrative assistant and much happier.

But, yeah, I was assigned "library duty" in 4th grade as part of the whole safety patrol/hall monitor program and I was actually really disappointed because the kids who got to help with the buses and carpool kids got to wear reflective vests and badges and even official raincoats (bright yellow with "SAFETY PATROL" on the back in black letters). But I got stuck in the library where I had to shelve books and, when the "special" for the day was library time, I'd check out my classmates' books to them. Not exactly thrilling. I guess my reading level was "above average" so the teachers and librarian assumed I'd be happy there? My undiagnosed ADHD ass was not all that happy and I was easily distracted by interesting books (this will become a theme later). I mean, I like books, and I was taken to the library a lot by my mom, but damn I get distracted.

Anyway, because of that, it meant that when I was in middle school and early high school, when I needed volunteer hours for graduation or honor societies or whatever, I could waltz up to the local public library and say, hey, I know how libraries work and you should let me volunteer here. So they did and the head of the youth services department basically counted down the days until I was 16 and they could hire me (rather than just have me volunteering). And, holy hell, I hated it lmfao.

Like, yeah, at least I got paid, but at what cost??? I was basically shelving books for four hours, five hours, six hours at a stretch. I was putting in 20 hours a week in the summers (as my parents demanded) and all I was doing was shelving. Endlessly. And mostly picture books--which meant that, once again, I'd get distracted by interesting illustrations, which got me scolded by the librarians. Sorry I suck so much, I guess?

Anyway, I had to quit when I went to college, but the college library hired me as a circulation desk assistant, which was okay if boring (at least I could play on the internet) except in the summers when we would have to shelf read for four, five, six hours at a time--that means we'd take a list of all the books that should be on the shelf and in what order and check each shelf and each book individually to make sure they're all there and all in the correct order. (I read most of the original Amityville Horror book one afternoon rather than shelf-reading and I learned one could ride on some of the smaller shelving cards like skateboards.)

Once again, I had to quit when I graduated. I wanted to be an editor or maybe wanted to get a PhD in literature (with a concentration on Modernist literature mostly because I had a 22 year-old's obsession with Ulysses). Skipping the disastrous summer of 2004 backpacking in Europe, I went to talk to my academic advisor about PhD stuff, and she suggested I get an MLS instead. She thought I'd be happier with that. Dr. G, I love you but... I was still hung up on the PhD thing so I got a job at a Barnes & Noble bookstore in November as a seasonal hire but I wound up staying there for a little over 2 years. I had a friend working on an MLS and she was pushing me towards it but I think it was the evening I had to do a turnaround, closing that night and opening the next day, and I heard a child being violently sick in the bathroom stall next to me (there was no staff bathroom) and knowing that I might have to clean it up, that I thought maybe I should get an MLS.

I quit B&N when I got a part-time library assistant job in the public library system here. I started about the same time as this other guy and every time a work email came in announcing an opening for a professional librarian position (needing an MLS), we'd look at the salary range, look at each other, and say that we needed to get our MLS degrees. So we did. I mean, we had to kick around at that library for a bit while we wrote admissions essays and the like, but we ended up at the same school, starting in the same semester, but in different concentrations (I was library science, he was information science). No, I didn't marry him. He was my work spouse. That would be weird. And, yes, of course I worked part-time in the library at my grad school. Obviously. I was a student reference assistant and I got really good at dealing with gov docs and showing undergrads how to use Wikipedia without using Wikipedia (the links, kid, the links at the bottom).

And then began my four year nightmare of applying, interviewing, getting rejected, getting rejected, getting rejected, hiring freezes, hustling, temping, driving all over the county, getting pushed around, getting insulted, having to smile and take it, and hating it all. It was 2010 and no one was hiring and I was hustling so hard as a temp in that same public library system that had hired me when I was 16. But hiring was frozen (it was 2010, after all, and everything sucked) and all I could do is work as a temporary library assistant for 39.5 hours a week and drive across the county to get those hours to prove I was worthy of hiring. It still took four years (and in between I was told I was "grumpy" and "huffy" and kept getting rejected in favor of more internal candidates) but I got hired and then I had to hustle even harder. Because even if you're not driving all over the county, you still have to prove that you're worth keeping around. The jockeying, the politics, the metaphorical chessboard--holy shit, it was awful and it only got worse. I have Tales.

After about 5 years as a full-time professional librarian, I burned out. But I didn't realize it. I just started calling in sick all the time because I couldn't get out of bed. Or I'd just not really participate in meetings. Or I'd just kind of sit there at the reference desk, waiting for my shift to be over. It was Bad.

So I put in to move to a different location--a new location, with a new building, a new staff, a new everything. I figured that would fix me. Spoilers: it did not fix me. And I just got worse and worse. I got put on an improvement plan and everything. And, eventually, I just straight-up took a demotion and went to do internal, support work. Still full-time, at least, right? That didn't help either. I kept calling out, I had notes from my psychiatrist, I was calling the EAP, I was taking FMLA, I was running out of FMLA, I got an official warning, I got a second official warning, and, in the end...I got fired.

So I went home and stayed there. For two years.

And, yeah, I was a NEET: not in education, employment, (or) training. (I was also verging on hikikomori status, but since that's more of a culture-bound phenomenon I don't think I can really claim it. But I digress.)

I had been saving up with the delusion of buying my own place at some point in the near future, so I had more than a few months' worth of living expenses saved up. I talked to a job coach, went to therapy (a lot), playing Animal Crossing (a lot), applied to jobs, slept (a lot), and just kind of...hung around, doing nothing. And it was, ironically, both the best and worst time of my life.

And this whole story is glossing over a lot, but that's how my career in libraries and as a librarian ended. I like to joke that I was apprenticed to a librarian but it really feels like I was just shunted into librarianship without any input on my part. I've never really had any idea of what career I wanted to pursue because it didn't seem like there were other options. I was going to go do library stuff whether I liked it or not. It was acceptable, it was safe (physically and financially), it was secure, it didn't matter if I wanted to do it because it was just a set of skills to be used to earn a living--no different from, say, HVAC repair. I didn't like it but it was like I was set on a track when I was 9 years old.

To close it out, after about two years of recovering from nearly 20 years of library work, I was hired at my current job and I'm much happier here now than I ever was in libraries.

#my tragic backstory #tl;dr #extremely long post #i'm sorry

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tup-ika-5385 · 2 years ago

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Knockout Chapter 8:

Chapter Summary:

Assessments are done and plans are made, but one thing becomes clear- they have to get off Kamino.

Fic Summary:

Six months after the trials of Umbara, Tup and Dogma are growing into themselves as well-established members of the 501st. Tup's been training more with Fives and Jesse, set on an ARC trooper promotion, and even Dogma has found a place in medical, where his intense focus and organization are both needed and appreciated.

While practicing for his medic exams, Dogma find some worrying abnormalities in Tup's numbers, making some worrying discoveries. As Tup's condition worsens, help comes from unlikely sources as Dogma, Kix, Fives, and Hardcase fight to discover the truth and save their brother.

Chapter 8:

After another hour in the Bad Batch’s barracks, Dogma had almost acclimated to the smell. Wrecker was doing a lot better, and Crosshair had settled in an uneasy truce, still not trusting this many regs in their barracks, but much less likely to be a threat. Dogma guessed that neither of them liked feeling useless when their brothers were in pain.

Fives had finally briefed Dogma, Hardcase, and Patch on their current situation after Patch had done a few assessments on Tup, and Dogma’s head was still reeling. Technological components– inside his brother’s head?! Suddenly, the Kaminoan’s response was starting to make a lot more sense, except… when did it get there?

As batchmates, Dogma and Tup had probably never been separated for more than a day, before their deployment, and even then, something like brain surgery would be pretty hard to hide, even if Tup were trying. And it still didn’t explain the other medics’ reactions, so eager to hunt down a brother without explanation– and an injured one, at that.

Dogma shook his head; he’d go crazy trying to figure it out on his own, especially with his current sleep deficit. Fives had already conked out, sprawled out on the ground like he was still in the middle of a campaign. He’d definitely slept in worse, and Tup hadn’t been far behind him, but Dogma knew any efforts to sleep right now would be wasted, so instead he settled in next to patch and Kix, listening to them go through the assessment results.

“So, after having Tup do a modified version of the WCPA, and a couple physical assessments, I’d say that physically, he’s well on the mend, and will probably be fully recovered in about a week. He might have some residual balance issues and need more sleep than usual, but he’ll be alright. Mentally, there’s a couple things we’ll have to keep a close eye on.”

He paused, looking towards Dogma, “You remember what we talked about with executive functioning, right?”

“Yeah, it’s starting tasks, planning, and follow-through, right?” Dogma confirmed, relieved to know that his training was already coming in handy.

Patch nodded, “That’s right, and it’s something that Tup’s having some trouble with, right now. The assessment I used had him practice scheduling appointments, training, the like. I asked him certain questions about two and five minutes in, which he’s supposed to ignore, according to the instructions at the beginning, and he was told to let me know when seven minutes had passed, according to the chrono I set up. During the assessment, he scheduled everything correctly, just a bit longer than average, which could’ve easily been exhaustion, but was easily distracted when I asked him questions, and forgot the seven-minute marker entirely.”

He paused before continuing. “There were also a few times, outside of the regular assessment where I noticed he’d have more emotional responses than normal. Correct me if I’m wrong, but Tup never struck me as someone with a hair-trigger anger response.” At that, he looked at Dogma, who shrugged sheepishly.

Tup had overheard one of Crosshair’s more caustic comments, asking, “What kind of a name is Dogma, anyways?” and hadn’t thought twice about jumping to Dogma’s defense almost aggressively, at least until his eyes started tearing up, and he’d flushed in humiliation. No harm had been done; Dogma could handle a blunt question or two, but seeing the distress on his batchmate’s face had worried him more than a little.

“He’s always been protective of me, but… his restraint is usually a little better, and the tears are unusual.” Dogma commented quietly, eyes trailing down to find his batchmate still fast asleep, taking comfort in watching his chest rise and fall. Sure, Tup used to cry a lot as a cadet, but Dogma hadn’t seen this many tears in a while– not since they were still in their cadet blues, rather than the reds given out to older cadets.

Patch nodded in understanding, rubbing his face tiredly as he talked. “With the brain, there’s a lot of stuff we just don’t know, but it’s likely that he’ll keep having difficulties.”

“For how long?” Dogma asked before he could stop himself.

“Could be a week, could be a month… could be a lot longer than that. It is something we can help with– there’s lots of mindfulness strategies and coping strategies he can learn to use, to give him a little more time to process his emotions. And for the other stuff, he’ll probably need reminders, check-ins, probably not too different from what you’ve already got set up for a couple other vode in the 501st.”

Patch smiled, looking back to where Hardcase and Wrecker had settled after wearing themselves out. Even before Umbara, Rex and the other commanding officers had already made a habit of sending short written mission briefings to a couple vode mid-mission, Hardcase included, for those who needed a little more help remembering the specifics, and it wouldn’t be too hard to add Tup to that list.

“He’s got a good support system, and I’ll always be available over comm to make suggestions about what might help, but it’ll be a while ‘till we know more about what he needs.”

Glancing back at Kix, Patch asked, “Do you still have that, uh, tumor? I didn’t get a good look at it earlier.”

Kix nodded, reaching into his utility belt and handing it over with a grimace. “Still can’t believe this was inside of him– makes you wonder what the Kaminoans had planned for it, after Dogma’s unplanned adventure in medbay.”

At that, the group sat in still silence, at least until they were interrupted by Tech. “Is that an inhibitor chip?”

Kix’s eyes widened, “What?”

“An inhibitor chip– they’re utilized by the Kaminoans for behavioral modification. We all have one.” Tech replied, looking bored. “Or, at least, I assume we all have one, but given our deviant nature–”

“That must be why the other medics were acting strange!” Dogma exclaimed before glancing back at Tup to make sure he didn’t wake him. “Nothing else would make sense– medic’s don’t just–”

“Perhaps not in your experience, but I would hesitate to insist that these troopers were not just… following orders.” Tech responded, all-too-familiar with regs responding less-than-kindly to those deemed different; a descriptor that now included Tup, apparently.

His words stirred another memory of Tup, half-conscious and mumbling, “good soldiers follow orders,” prompting another question. “Exactly what behaviors do these chips modify, then?” ‘And why didn’t it work on me?’ Dogma wondered to himself.

“Yeah, I’d like to know that too,” Fives chimed in, having woken up from his lothcat-nap, carefully sliding out from under Tup. “Cuz when I looked for information on this so-called ‘inhibitor chip,’ I got nothing– not even a mention or a scanned image, ‘cept the one we pulled from Tup.”

Tech frowned, rocking a bit as he thought. “I am not sure. I did not pursue that line of thought when I first learned of the chip, but I believe I have the data saved somewhere.” He said, before beginning to search through his mountain of datachits and detritus for the second time that night. Hunter looked like he was about to argue for a moment– he was probably the only reason there was a walkable path in their barracks at all– before relenting, just as curious as the rest of them.

“Here it is!” Tech called, pulling out a datachit that looked identical to the others, but with the numbers 02-157 written on the side; it wasn’t an organizational scheme Dogma recognized.

“The file itself was encrypted, which is why I didn’t choose to open it before– doing so would likely alert the Kaminoans, and it’s possible that it would display the datapad’s location as well, so I would wait until you were off-planet to do so.” He cautioned them with a warning look before handing the file over to Fives.

“We’ll keep that in mind, thanks vod.” Fives gave him a grateful nod, glad to be doing something.

“That brings us back to our current predicament, though. We can’t stay here, as grateful as we are for your hospitality,” Fives paused, addressing Hunter, who nodded. “But with Tup’s current condition, stealth’s definitely the better option. Even if we get to a hangar, I’d be shocked if they hadn’t already locked down everything with hyperspace capabilities.” He put a hand on his chin, thinking.

“Actually, we might not need one– a ship with hyperspace, I mean.” Patch offered with a grin. “The 104th should still be in-orbit… it wouldn’t be hard to rendezvous with them and get a different ship– maybe even learn more about this chip while we’re at it.”

“Good plan,” Fives grinned in return. “Speaking of which, I should check back with AZ– last I heard, he was looking into potential insertion dates for the, uh, chips.”

With that, he got out his comm and called the droid. “AZ! What’s the status on those scans you were taking?”

“Oh, hello ARC Trooper Five-s!” A cheery metallic voice called, and Crosshair rolled his eyes from where he’d been listening in. “I have been ordered to report to the maintenance bay for a system wipe, but I shall transmit the data to you at once. One moment please.”

“What?!”

“It appears that the Kaminoans do not recognize the social-emotional benefits of doctor-patient confidentiality, and took offense when I did not share the identity of Patient Tup.”

Fives sighed, “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. I don’t get how you can be so chipper about it– if I was being reconned, I’d be furious.” After all, it was nearly the same thing, and the little med-droid had started to grow on Fives, like some kind of invasive fungus.

AZ-3 hummed. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have human emotions– but I do not!” He replied cheerily before something beeped. “The data is now transmitted.”

Kix’s datapad buzzed, and the medic nodded that the data had been received. “It confirms what we knew; that all troopers past tubies have one of these chips. But I still wanna know who has control of them. Nala Se, obviously, but who else?”

“Can’t be anyone good, if they’re trying this hard to keep them a secret. This is starting to smell like a Separatist plot to me.” Fives frowned, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Sure, call him paranoid, but since Umbara, it didn’t take much to make him doubt other’s motives, and he’d never trusted the Kaminoans much in the first place.

Turning to Tech, he asked, “Tech, could you– is there any way to change AZ’s–”

Tech hummed an affirmative, tapping away at his datapad. “Already done. The system will register the droid as already having been wiped– assuming its number is the same one registered to that comm device, and it should be free to return to its duties.” He said, adjusting his goggles. Hunter might not like it when he intervened, worrying he’d get in trouble with the Kaminoans, but Tech found great satisfaction in disrupting the Kaminoan’s plans, even just a little.

“Hear that, AZ? You should be good to go. Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“Care is not required, as I am a droid. Goodbye!” AZ-3 replied, cutting off the comm channel abruptly, earning a weary chuckle from Fives. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

He turned towards Hunter and the rest of the Bad Batch, who had already done so much to help clones who were practically strangers to them. “I know I have no right to ask this of you– you’ve already done so much to help us, to help Tup, and we couldn’t be more grateful. I know us ‘regs’ haven’t treated you well in the past, but you and your squad have treated us with kindness we haven’t earned. If you ever need anything, you are welcome with the 501st anytime.”

He drew himself up into a firm salute, which was mirrored by the other conscious troopers– Hardcase and Tup were still fast asleep. Hunter nodded his head in acceptance, giving them a rare smile. “I’ve gotta say, it’s been nice spending time with regs who aren’t about to throw down with one of my brothers.”

He glanced at Crosshair for approval, knowing if he didn’t, he’d be hearing about it for the next month. Thankfully Crosshair shrugged, glancing at the regs as if to say, ‘Whatever gets out of my space soonest,’ so Hunter turned back to Fives.

Despite a few bumps in the road, this was probably the most peaceful interaction his squad had ever had with the regs– and these ones actually saw them as vode, which was parsecs above what he could say for most of the shinies still on Kamino. “Now, what did you say you need?” Unfortunately, the Marauder was still undergoing repairs after their latest mission, so they couldn’t just give them a ride.

Fives grinned. “We could use a distraction…”

___________________

Turns out, the Bad Batch had a plan for exactly that, and within ten minutes, their squad was heading towards the nearest hangar completely unobstructed. With the combination of Tech’s computer skills, Crosshair’s pinpoint accuracy when it came to identifying and shutting down cameras, and of course, Wrecker’s ability to draw attention wherever he went, it wasn’t long before they were in possession of a small ship that wouldn’t be missed for 24 hours.

They were home free– assuming they didn’t crash along the way.

“I thought you said you knew how to fly!” Patch yelped, his face a ghastly shade of green as he tried to keep his breaths even as he resolutely refused to look out the viewscreen. His aviophobia had gotten a lot better since his posting with the 501st, but this– he cursed as Hardcase made another loop and a muffled “Oops,” could be heard in the cockpit– was not flying.

“I’ve flown before!” Hardcase shouted back, dodging the last of the sensor arrays as they made their way up into the atmosphere. He twisted the ship around a few more times for good measure, hoping to keep the Kaminoans off their scent, and Patch’s heart stuttered with every jerking movement.

“Umbara categorically does not count!” Dogma griped, inclined to agree with Patch. The sooner they were back on firm ground, the better.

“I mean I’ve practiced some with the General, he’s been helping me to–”

“Watch the controls!!!” Kix cried in despair as Hardcase pulled up on the brakes and they definitely left a mark on the 104th’s hangar floor.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” Hardcase called as the ship came to a full and complete stop, probably smoking a little bit, but otherwise in one piece. “There!”

Kix let out a relieved sigh, clutching his chest. “Remind me to never fly with you again, vod.” He said before walking out the exit ramp, giving a hand to Patch when his legs shook, still looking more than a little green.

“You good, vod?”

Patch let out a slow breath, only just managing to hold down his rations while he nodded. He wasn’t usually one prone to space-sickness, but at least he had an excuse for not noticing their audience until he nearly ran into Commander Wolffe. “Easy there, Patch.”

“Wolffe!” Patch brightened immediately, leaning in to clasp his brother’s wrist, receiving a hearty thump on the back.

“It’s good to see you, vod. Welcome home.” Wolffe rumbled softly, drawing him in.

Patch choked up a little bit, responding just as quietly. “It’s good to be home.”

It’s been more than a year since he was back with the 104th, and even with everything else going on, it meant so much to be here– and to be with his brothers again, so he took a moment to settle in Wolffe's firm grip before pulling away.

He glanced around, noticing their little welcoming party included most of the Wolfpack, as well as General Koon.

“Thanks for letting us crash here, General.” Hardcase joked, watching as the landing crew gave the ship one last spray with a fire-extinguisher. “We’ve heard a lot of good things about you, sir.”

“You are most welcome, young Hardcase. It is an honor to meet Patch's brothers from the 501st.” General Plo offered, smiling under his mask as he greeted the group. “Come, I hear we have much to discuss.” He said, beckoning them forward so they could share what they learned.

____________

AO3 Link:

#hard knocks 'verse #clone trooper dogma #clone trooper tup #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #clone trooper kix #arc trooper fives #clone trooper hardcase #hardcase survived umbara but now has chronic pain #hardcase lives #autistic dogma #autistic tech #clone medic patch #patch has aviophobia #clone trooper oc's #my fics #my stuff

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klysanderelias · 3 months ago

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I think I'm done with Night Stalker - I promised myself I'd stick through 2 episodes, and I've watched five, which is half the total runtime (and there were only six episodes that aired before the show was taken off the air), so I think I've done enough.

Partially it's because the next two episodes have to do with a biker gang that, from my limited reading about the showrunners' intentions, were supposed to end up being the four horsemen of the apocalypse, and honestly that's a stupid idea and I don't feel like watching 2 hours of that.

It's also the problem of like, I don't particularly enjoy the monster of the week aspect of this show, because the average episode isn't that much fun, and any groundwork they lay for future episodes doesn't matter, because there aren't future episodes. And I think that's a thing that really bothers me about shows like this - it's hard to feel good about criticizing a show that got such a short runway, because on one hand, it's not like they managed to get it off the ground, but would it have been good if they did?

And the answer is probably not, there's a lot of shows that famously ran for like ten seasons and never found a good payoff for the stuff they were setting up, and just because a show only got like ten episodes doesn't save it from the criticism that those ten episodes kind of sucked. Like, yeah Firefly got cancelled 'early', but that show was trash, and a lot of the stuff they were setting up was incoherent.

It's easy to go 'but what if it was good' because what IF it was good, but also there's a certain point where you have to accept that the initial promise you saw just didn't pan out, and that's assuming that the show actually HAD promise or if it's just projection.

And more importantly, I've got literally no skin in this game, so as soon as this stops being fun and starts being a chore, I'm going to stop! Maybe the show gets really good! Maybe it IS a crime that it got cancelled because the ninth and tenth episodes were really cooking!

I ain't gonna find out, because I've already spent five hours on this thing, and if they couldn't make me care in the first five hours, they're not entitled to another five hours out of pity.

#long post #night stalker

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the-firebird69 · 4 months ago

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Other than that this area is experiencing more radiation and More death from it and it's beginning to be significant to them levels went up yesterday to about 52. That translates to about six Rads on average. And they were out and about the windows are closed but they need air and they were bringing it in and coughing and choking seeing our son's not right went home and practically cried not a lot of them were crying and saying we're dying for our crimes. There's a few more things but that radiation today is going to be a little bit above that about 6.5 tonight it'll be at 7:00 and increasing steadily that's very high already and the death rate is high it's probably about 400,000 and out of that number and at 8:00 a.m. they will have lost out of that about 60,000 originals so they're down to 3.8 million for real and shrinking slowly it's painful agonizing war and the rings continues and they keep losing it's ongoing

--there are a few other things this group is fighting themselves engaging everybody and saying it's not good but they keep doing it and pja is coming up against it and it's not working it's blaming everybody and their son and daughter and he is going to get hit.

--in addition our son is sitting here and he's not feeling too good off and on and he needs to grow that is going to start happening this week to Prilosec will be knocked out and this weekend will grow. It's kind of getting a little worried because seven RADS for an hour and a half it's different than for days and it's been five rounds for a day and for rent for a day two and three RADS for 2 months and he will start growing a lot we think once that prilose c is gone and yeah he's going to be big pretty soon and you'll be surprised I still understand your mouth will be open and you're stupid that's coming off and you do get your ass kicked because of it people hear it what you're saying in your vulgar pieces of s*** and they want to kill you for what you're saying you're stupid face too and they send troops in and start killing it see this kids been listening to that the whole time this is yeah I've been telling people they're complete assholes so it's going to happen soon and very soon I'm around Thursday the problem set will be out and he will begin growing the weekend and he'll be big. And you're going to be surprised here and the radiation will be increasing and for 2 weeks the two big caverns will join the third the month of the harbor will drop and the cavern system in the Parks one of them will drop and then succession afterwards all of that will happen during this coming to or two and a half weeks and starting around Wednesday and the radiation levels will be about a 12 on average all day and night and most of you are dying already yeah from cancer you kind of knit with dimwits and stupid. You'll see it and you'll try and move and it won't work and you will begin to try and relocate our son by force and it won't work it doesn't do anything and then it will be time for him to have money to try and move him he tries to move it says what am I supposed to move with he doesn't have a vehicle the carry stuff for insurance to try to check in with insurance companies to see if you can get temporary insurance and mostly the receipts and not understand what he's talking about and they don't want to move him and there's a big fight and yeah it starts with John and even lied John remillard and I said no she has those insurance to types because you have everything in the United States and they had it on the border it's different but it is it's like a whole separate insurance to tell you the truth and he's covering his head because he's f***** himself again he thinks but really he's an idiot and he's just going to die here and people don't want to he's doing that in the shelters our son's healing he doesn't want to send to heal and he's saying don't let him and all this s*** and people are saying look he's feeling like madness and you saying don't let him just bothering the f*** out of this it's bothering us now it's helping him and you're saying where his enemy and your f****** dead is what they're saying right now all around town people are getting rid of your duplicates and the other trumpsters they can't stand these b****** and they know they're stuck in a roll and they just won't stop doing it they said you have to stop doing it when you're not going to be here and there's a big movement okay A lot of people are doing it.

-he's going to be big and we will like it but we're not going to like what you people are saying it's going to be horrible and you're going to be dead I'm going to make sure and he needs it badly and he's right he thinks he'll be bigger than an hour and a half or so probably two and a half hours he was exposed to only seven rad and now it's going to be higher he's been in it for days I was wondering why he's not growing and it's not because of him it's the privacy it's getting eliminated and it is going in there and it's speeding up the preservatives which he has every day and it is destroying the prilosec. Very soon it will rip the crap out of it and that will start Tuesday Wednesday or so when those big caverns start dropping the food today the one in the middle is already started and it will taper off earlier I'll be a week early and the others will keep going but the other parts systems will start and they'll add to it and it will remain high a little bit lower yeah by the time those all drop the harbor will begin if you haven't moved them by then you're pretty much going to die none of you will survive that and we do you believe. That you're a bit stupid Tommy f is trying to become vice president and he goes in there and surreptitiously when Dave Dan is hit he's holding on to him and it starts a war between Dave Dan's group and Trump and versus Tommy f to release him and he's invading DC and they're attacking the ship here fairly soon and it is why and Stan can't identify it literally and it's because everybody here is a threat is under threat and he helped the idiots put the propane there and yeah it doesn't help you go for at least overtly threatening Satanist you dangling.

Thor Freya

You see Tim Allen and his son is explaining this one that you and your big mouth are getting us all in trouble. When is the binford 9000 oversized propane tanks you have to take care of to follow local fire code and laws and ordinances in order to not blow yourself up and others and it's the others who are concerned but you are influence to put them there and we saw him do it and we're going to show you. That's what he's saying

Hera

Olympus

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scrawlingwithstyle · 1 year ago

Text

One Good Turn (5/?)

The story of how “you,” an apparently average person, join the Avengers.

A Marvel fanfiction based on my friend’s recurring dream.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1434

Tags: @arrow-guy, @ifitistobeitisuptous

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

You can barely sleep that night, but you know you need to in order to refresh your brain for the morning. Stark had said twenty-two hours. That gives you till five p.m.

The morning takes too long to come, so you’re up before the sun, mulling over your options while you eat breakfast. You have a list in your mind of what powers would pair best with the combat skills you’re learning from Nat and the healing factor you already know you want. You just have to shuffle through them to find one that best suits you.

Shapeshifting comes off the list pretty early when you realize that changing your size or shape might counteract all your training. Longer or shorter limbs would make you clumsy. An animal form would be even worse.

Flight also crosses your mind. It’s practical in some ways. You consider the advantage to dodging, and then an even better thought comes to mind: heightened reflexes.

Having powers that aren’t apparent at first would be good for hiding in plain sight or keeping a secret identity. On top of that, a danger sense of some kind would make it easier to make split-second decisions.

It’s barely six a.m. when you realize you’ve decided on your second power. To make sure you’re certain, you let yourself think about it for a bit longer while you finish getting ready for the day. And besides, you don’t know what time it’s okay to call.

It’s five to seven when you can’t stand it anymore and call the number for Avengers Tower.

“Morning,” greets Stark. He sounds like he’s been up for a while. Maybe he hasn’t even been to bed at all.

“I’ve decided,” you say.

“Perfect. How soon can you be here?”

You look at the clock. “I don’t have work today, so… twenty minutes?”

“Alright. I’ll let Banner know to expect you at the lab.” He hangs up without a goodbye.

You frown a little but don’t take it personally. In the brief time you’ve known him, he appears to be a bit brusque with everyone.

As promised, you arrive at the tower within twenty minutes. You pass by very few people on your way up, including Natasha. When you make it to the lab, Bruce is the only one there.

He greets you from the far end of the room and then asks, “What other ability have you decided on?”

“You know how Spiderman just kind of… knows when something bad is about to happen?” you say, unable to hold back a grin. “Something like that. An extra sense for danger.”

He furrows his brow and nods. “I think I understand. Unfortunately, it’ll take some time to program the device given your specifications. Probably at least a couple of hours, give or take.” He looks you up and down. “If you want to spend some time in the gym, or up in Clint’s archery range, that might be a good way to let off some energy.”

“Oh,” you say, somewhat disappointed. He’s not wrong, though. You’re feeling pretty amped up. “That sounds like a good idea.”

You haven’t been to the archery range yet, and you doubt Clint is here this early to show you around, so you head back down to the gym and find a treadmill. You figure if a brisk jog doesn’t help, there’s always a punching bag you can beat up.

Steve shows up about thirty minutes in while you’re taking a break and just lying on one of the mats. He reaches out a hand, and despite your desire to stay on the floor, you grab it and let him pull you up. “Are you okay?” he asks.

You smile. “Yeah, just nervous. And excited.” You pause at a thought. “How did it go when you got your . . . ?” you gesture to all of him.

He chuckles. “It hurt like hell, and I wanted to sleep for a week straight.”

Your face pales. “Oh, is that all?” you ask weakly.

He claps a hand on your shoulder, laughing. “You’ll be fine. It’s a different process, and it shouldn’t make any drastic physical changes if you didn’t ask for them.”

Relief washes over you. “Thank God.”

You spend some time watching him, fascinated, as he lifts weights labeled in the triple digits. “What are those things made of?” you ask after a minute.

He finishes a set and sets them down before answering that it’s adamantium.

You gape at him for a minute before you find your voice again. “I know Tony has money to burn, but that is a lot of money to burn.”

Steve nods. “I know. I told him it wasn’t worth it, but he had them made anyway.” He shrugs sheepishly. “Now I use them all the time because I feel guilty that they cost so much.”

You go back to your own workout, now and then glancing over to see what he’s doing. You tell yourself it’s curiosity. You’re lying; it’s his muscles. Fortunately for you, he doesn’t seem to notice, but you have to stop when Nat comes in because she absolutely would.

During another break, lying on one of the mats, you doze off a bit and only wake up when Natasha says your name.

“Are you ready?” she asks, squatting by your side.

Anxiety twists in your chest. “I think so. Is it already time?”

She nods and stands, offering you a hand to help you up. “Bruce is waiting for you.”

Working off nervous energy has made you sweaty and sticky, so you’re hesitant to go directly back, but you’re also too anxious and excited to stop and shower before you go. You take the elevator, nervously rocking on your feet until the doors slide open.

Banner greets you again and ushers you deeper into the lab to a large machine that kind of reminds you of an airport metal detector, except that it’s fully encased in glass. He presses a button on the control panel and the front of the glass opens up.

“I’m ready when you are.” He gestures toward the open door.

You take a breath and step inside, and he closes the glass door behind you.

“Stand in the white circle,” he says, voice muffled.

You look down and center yourself.

“Ready?”

You take another deep breath and flash a grin. “Hit me.”

He hits a few keys and the machine whirrs to life. The very air around you begins to vibrate, and the sensation reverberates through your bones. It’s not pleasant, but it isn’t painful either; it’s just really weird.

You open your mouth a little, but forget what you’re about to say when you feel your teeth rattling against each other. It’s unsettling enough that you opt for closing your jaw tightly to prevent it from happening again. You realize after what feels like a solid five minutes that you never asked how long the process was going to take. But you’re not willing to open your mouth again to ask, so you just shut your eyes and wait for it to stop.

Another strange sensation takes you: a warmth that blooms from beneath your sternum, and slowly spreads to your extremities. Again, it’s not awful, just strange. Once you feel it in the top of your scalp and the ends of your fingers and toes, it grows uncomfortably warm before fading almost instantly, along with the deep vibration.

Your ears start to ring, and your body feels as though it’s still buzzing, even though you know it’s stopped. It takes a moment to relax your jaw, which is stiff and painful now, and your voice creaks when you speak. “I forgot to ask how long that would take,” you croak.

The door opens, and you step out on shaky legs.

“That was twenty-five minutes,” Bruce replies, “but it’ll take a couple days for the powers to kick in and your body to recover. You’re going to be pretty lethargic and weak, but functional till then.”

You laugh a little. “I didn’t think about that either. It’s a good thing I don’t have to walk home.”

“We’ll have someone drive you.” He helps prop you up and leads you to a nearby chair. “Your legs should be back to normal, more or less, in maybe thirty minutes. You can sit in here until then.”

You nod, sitting back. “I think I’ll take a little nap, if you don’t mind.”

He smiles. “That’s fine. I’ll wake you when you’re good to go.”

Your eyes are already shut. “Mm-hm. Thanks.”

#marvel #avengers #fanfiction #reader insert #one good turn #it is late #and I need to sleep #but I just finished this part and had to post it

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webspinning · 1 year ago

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SORRY I KKEEP SENDING SO MANY OF THESE >

but how could I not ,,

1, 3, 7, 13, 17, 20, 25 damselfly, six, valiant, saratoga

also obviously you don't have to do all of these,,, there's a lot

don't apologise i legitimately have so much fun answering all of these!! this is my natural environment i am thriving on all the enrichment

1. Damselfly - Bold of you to assume he's ever tried to save anyone. Six - If his experiments count, them. He really does try to keep them alive, but they always die in the end. Valiant - Their maskfly friend, one of the only friends they ever had. Unfortunately it got injured and Val couldn't save it. They still miss it. Saratoga - She's selfish and wouldn't think of saving anyone other than herself. And never has.

3. Damselfly - She lives on unnecessary suffering, and will sometimes prolong her victim's if she can. Six - Yeah :C he doesn't enjoy seeing bugs suffer, unless he's really deep in his mind at the time and thinking about Elegance. She's probably the only person he genuinely wants to see in pain. Valiant - It's here to kill, not to torture. Though it did sometimes get an uncomfortable thrill at the sight of it in general. Saratoga - She likes seeing it ! It's not something she actively seeks out, but she kind of enjoys seeing others in pain, preferably physical. 7. Damselfly - High pain tolerance, they can take a lot of surface level wounds and keep going fine. Big wounds slow them down but the only time they'd get those is while in battle, so it's never been a problem since they can usually heal fast. Six - Low, he's a little bitch. He will cry over paper cuts and generally whines about injuries for hours if not days afterwards as well. Valiant - Medium, depends on where it's localised, at what time in their life, and what kind of wound. Younger Val has a lower pain tolerance but once they're older they just kind of stop caring [and by then have also suffered so many wounds - had an arm torn off, wings shredded, literally died - that anything else can't even compare. Saratoga - It's that of an average person. He will cry but won't complain about it, he works in a kitchen on a ship so burns and cuts are pretty common and he's gotten used to small injuries. [And probably burn a lot of the nerves in his hands off honestly.] 13. Damselfly - Hot shit and she knows it !!! High self esteem, she's very proud of herself even though someone else built her body. Considers herself very pretty / good-looking. Six - He'd rather be a vessel. Hates the fact that he's a mantis because it means he's like Elegance, and he resembles her a lot too. It's at a point where he avoids looking in mirrors because of it. Self esteem is...bad. Probably? Valiant - Its entire life is based on proving its worth because it doesn't think it's good enough for PK. Needless to say it is, er, not great. Body image has never been an issue - Val's own appearance is something it's thought about like, five times in its entire life - but mentally? So low. So, so low. Saratoga - Thinks very highly of himself! He's considered an unusual dragon because of his hybrid status, and a pretty one at that. Not the highest self esteem, but you wouldn't tell that by looking at him. 17. [doing little regrets is hard for these guys they've all done things they regret majorly] Damselfly - Passing up chances, it skips out on things a lot and then regrets it later. Six - Caffiene addiction. Valiant - They regret the dramatic teen era. Saratoga - Not learning to swim well. 20. Damselfly - They've never had friends they don't have abandonment issues. Yet. Not codependent :) Six - No for the first one, yes for the second. Elegance literally threw him out- his abandonment issues are so major. Valiant - Kind of codepent with Aoide, yeah. They try not to be, but both of them rely on each other so much. All vessels have abandonment issues, it's just fact. Its are huge though. Saratoga - No :) Weirdly she's pretty healthy relationships-wise, avoiding the fact that she drowned her previous partner. 25. Damselfly - No teeth, but they love ripping other denizens of Hell to shreds. Hands, claws, tail, whatever they can use. Six - He's wanted to a few times, but never actually done it. He has dissected people with his bare claws though! Not medical protocol, but well, who's gonna tell :) Valiant - They didn't always have a sword, now did they? And sometimes it needs a little extra help with things [yes, yes they have] Saratoga - Probably, little girl has done some extremely questionable things in his life. You won't ever get the story out of him though.

#heheheh i love ! this so much !!!#oc; six #oc; damselfly #oc; valiant #oc; saratoga #mentioned >#oc; elegance #oc; rosa #oc ask games

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thatcheesyler · 1 year ago

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Continuation of Ford and Entrapta hcs!

-Ford thought she was..let's say, interesting, as she continued to gush over all the anomalies that she was currently interacting with. Sort of like him, he supposed, apart from the fact that she kept using strange words like 'Etheria' and 'First Ones Tech', but perhaps she was speaking a foreign language. Who knows?

-Well 𝘩𝘦 certainly wanted to know, so, he watched on. Having no plans of intervening anytime soon...until Entrapta started to talk about dissecting the gnome, that was when he felt he needed to step in.

-"Hey! You can't do that to an innocent animal here, it's illegal!" He would probably shout smth along the lines of that, running in the snatch the gnome away from her.

-But as soon as Entrapta saw him, she dropped poor Schmebulock anyway, and instead raced to pick 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘥 up from the ground for inspection.

-"The first indication of advanced lifeforms on this planet!! Oh this is amazing, do you have a name?!!" Entrapta would then shove the recording device next to his face and wait for an answer.

-I think Ford would absolutely make a small comment about how her hair is so inhumanly strong, but then just push past it for now and tell her his name, not too fond of the recording device.

-And then, yk, she ofc studies him a tiny bit and checks if he has any magic (which he doesn't, duh), discovers he has six fingers and eagerly asks if that's normal for 'his species', to which he would say "no" and Entrapta would get even more excited.

-Cue Entrapta begging to stay where he lives so that she can study him and everything else, to which Ford is extremely hesitant, but says "sure" anyway because she seems friendly enough.

-And now they live together, yaaayy! Entrapta mostly stays up in the attic so that she can observe things outside the top windows...and because Ford said so lol.

-Of course, Ford eventually got Entrapta to explain her whole sitch, and where she came from. Which then turned into a five-hour session of her ranting about the science of Etheria and portal technology. (But Ford was not complaining..for the most part anyway.)

-In return, Entrapta got to study Ford to a full extent, testing his eyesight, hearing, sense of smell, taste buds, nervous system, and his skeletal structure. All of which seemed to be on par with the average person on Etheria, fascinating indeed..

-Also, yk how Ford explains in the episode 'A Tale Of Two Stans' that he hits a roadblock in his experiments? Yh, that still happens in this au, but Entrapta also helps him figure out what to do and then they both get stuck on it together.

-So...Bill. What to do abt Bill, huh?

-Well, I'll tell you what happens, Bill and Ford meet just like how they did in the show, but in this au, Fiddleford doesn't get involved as Entrapta is there to help him instead. So, Ford keeps his deal with Bill a secret, only letting Bill take control when Entrapta wasn't in the room or was severely distracted.

-But of course, Bill wanted control over this new princess as well, she was just such an interesting specimen...

-So Bill waited until one perfect night when both scientists were asleep (a rare thing to come by, if you ask me), and showed up in Entrapta's dreams.

-Honestly, I don't know what he was expecting, but he really shouldn't have been a bit surprised that she was now mesmerized with his existence.

-Hell, he had to teleport away from her a couple of times because she kept trying to grab at him with her hair, anything to help her study him I guess.

-And one time she actually succeeded for about a minute, only sad about the fact that she couldn't use a recording device in her dreams while asking for his name and everything.

-Girlie fr almost pulled his eye out just to 'test the waters', and then asked him millions of questions. None of which he answered directly, being the cryptic bastard that he is.

-Yeah, okay, I don't think she'd have to worry about him trying to make a deal with her anytime soon, it seems just one meeting with her was too much for him. He might even start pitying Ford at this point, for having to deal with her basically everyday.

Okay, now random hcs abt them being a nerdy power duo!

-They definitely finish each other's sentences half the time, prove me wrong.

-Entrapta uses the vents in Ford's house to get around, sometimes just poking her head out of a random one and scaring the shite outta Ford.

-They both take 'Dungeons, Dungeons and more Dungeons' 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 seriously every time they play it, and create sciencey consequences for the loser.

-They have probably done that thing where they're both working at opposite desks in his little lab, and then randomly switch around to annotate on the other person's work.

-Every piece of food that Ford had in his fridge was reduced to tiny versions of said food within about a week of Entrapta living with him.

-If Entrapta's being a bit of a pest, Ford can and will invent little technological puzzles to occupy her.

-The amount of times that Ford had to intervene whenever Entrapta would try to dissect someone or some creature, it's honestly insane.

-They both sometimes get so carried away in achieving their nerdy goals, that they don't fully comprehend the bad things that'll happen. So when the thing is working but there's horrific side effects, one person or the other will most definitely shout, "This is amazing!...And also terrible, we're all gonna 𝘥𝘪𝘦-"

-Somehow give each other fantastic therapy sessions, even though they are 𝘯𝘰𝘵 mentally stable.

-Entrapta would often pop in and out of Ford's dimension, as she still had friends to hang out with on Etheria.

-Ford learns that the princess has a bit of a habit of not picking up on social cues..like, at all. So, he takes the opportunity to teach her! Very slowly, though, she's still terrible at socialising.

-They always like to watch sci-fi cartoons or live action films, so that they can have fun while pointing out every little flaw in the characters' science logic.

-When Fiddleford came over for a visit, Entrapta had quite the interview with him. Eventually he just went "I'm out", and left, trying to savour what was left of his brain cells afterwards.

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

Aaannd, I'm done, now I'm going to go back to my hidey hole. Goodbye everyone, thanks for listening :3

I've been watching She-Ra all over again, and I watched Gravity Falls videos earlier, so now I need to make headcanons for Stanford Pines and Entrapta being a nerdy power duo. Please and thank you.

Okay, first of all, how they met:

-Ever since Etheria was pulled out of Despondos and the rebellion defeated Horde Prime, Entrapta would probably have been hyperfixating on portal technology for quite a while afterwards

-In this particular little au, I'm gonna say that the time zones are very different but the defeat of Horde Prime is around the same time that Stanford first moved into Gravity Falls in his universe

-So, since Entrapta is now free to use portal tech without any catastrophic consequences, she starts exploring the 'multiverse' theory

-And would you look at that? Success! Entrapta has officially made a feasible equation to actually open a portal to a completely alternate universe!

-By the time she figures out the equation aforementioned, however, Stanford has fully moved into his new house and is already investigating the anomalies in his area.

-Giving Emily one last goodbye, Entrapta opens a new portal and finally ventures into the unknown!

-The other end of the portal, of course, opens in Gravity Falls as all the anomalous energy would attract the portal towards it. (Just as Ford said, "Gravity Falls' natural law of weirdness magnetism")

-Then comes Entrapta, crashing down into the forest and drawing the attention of the many supernatural woodland creatures that inhabited it.

-Immediately taking out her recording device (idk what it's called lol), she would start collecting data of every little detail of these new surroundings, including all of similarities and differences to life on Etheria.

-An example of what she might say into her recording device; "Hour one on this yet-to-be named planet, the atmosphere is not too different to Etheria, fascinating...there seems to be an absence of advanced technology in this area, as my tracker pad isn't detecting any strong surges of power from anywhere. And, all the wildlife appears to be filled with much less magic and instead simply have many traces of abnormality. Oh I can't wait to tell everyone about this!"

-A bit cliché, but yeah, Stanford is obviously weirded out when he hears an excited female voice resonating deep in the woods while he's exploring. And especially since they sound like they're not familiar with the concept of Earth.

-Here we go, the moment I've been waiting for.

-Cautious yet curious, Ford picks up a thick branch from the ground as a weapon (just in case yk), and slowly approaches the origin of the voice, taken by surprise when he sees a woman with tanned skin sitting in the air with her legs crossed and using her long purple hair as..stilts, per se, all while using a smaller piece of her hair to pick up and examine one of the gnomes that he had discovered a few days ago.

-Of course, Entrapta doesn't notice him as she's too busy taking notes of every small detail about the gnome. Well, and he's also (kinda badly) hidden behind a nearby tree as well, so it makes sense that she doesn't know he's there.

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

Welp, I'm done, because now that I've gotten this far, my brain has decided that it's nap time and now I have no more hcs 🥲

#gravity falls #gravity falls stanford #she ra #she-ra entrapta #my au #headcanons

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lunarblazes · 3 years ago

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okay i really hate to do this so soon after my last escapade into My Blog Being On Fire but. we need to talk about fan skin artists.

fan skin artists (and fan modelers!) are integral to a lot of the glitz and glam of a minecraft series, in particular, empires smp and the minecraft championship event, though hermitcraft is also bleeding into this lately. skin making to the level you see in videos and streams is really hard! i’m a skinmaker myself, actually, and my current default mc skin took me about six hours total to make, not including recent tweaks to the design, and on average my skins take me three hours each when they’re edited and five and a half hours each when they’re original. i’m also learning blockbench modeling, and though i’m very much a beginner, it doesn’t take much more than a beginner to tell you what kinds of techniques they use to get the models on empires and hermitcraft.

“well, luna, if you’re a skinmaker, why don’t you make fan skins? you clearly really like these series! it would probably be fun for you, right?” i hear you say, for the sake of my post flow.

you’re right, random citizen! i would love to make fan skins and fan models! it would be very fun for me!

however. there is a horrifically bad problem with ccs not asking permission to use people’s skins or flat out not giving credit for their skins at all. this is straight-up art theft, and it’s not okay. some of these artists already have online followings, and that’s the only reason i know who has made certain skins. ccs are notoriously terrible with affording skin artists and modelers the same respect they do with traditional fanartists (even if they pay modelers, it is my belief they should still be credited).

now, some ccs make their own skins! that’s great! but i genuinely cannot tell who has made their own skin and who has used a skin from someone else because nobody ever draws a distinction. i know a few ccs are typically really good with crediting artists in their videos—pearl, in particular, has a skin artist whom she credits often—but in events like mcc contestants often forget to credit their artists, and i’m left a bit skeptical if they asked to use the skins in the first place.

so. yeah. skin artists and modelers need to be given the same credit rights as fanartists. minecraft skins are just as much fanart as a painting someone put a lot of effort into. please, please, please always credit your artists.

#discourse #empires #i could make this post longer but i figured this was a nice readable length #so. yeah #just. ugh. please treat skin artists like their work has meaning #i’m not mad at the ccs to be clear. like i still love their content and they’re not bad people for this #but i would really really like to see better credit given yknow

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yaut-jaknowit · 2 years ago

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Your mxm idea generator is back at it. hear me out, what if the reader was a homocide detective and all the overworking on a case and having to keep it to himself just gets to him, how would his mate react to finding him like that?😭 (zamn this is so specific i’m sorry💀) and as always love you and your works keep up the amazing work🫶

Long Nights

Pairing: Wolf x Reader

Word Count: 2175

Summary: This is your job, your livelihood. How else could you live your life without death and murder? This is all you pretty much know. So when you're beat tired from a long, long day, you head straight to bed. Wolf was gone. Somewhere in the universe. You were left to sleep countless nights in an empty, cold bed. But this was life. Nothing else would stop you from getting into that bed.

Author Note: Never apologize for these great ideas you send my way! I love all of them. This one was fun to write. Sort of gives me ideas to write an actually story about it. Do I have the time or energy? Probably not unfortunately.

Masterlist

Ao3

The first few days of a case are the most important. It’s crucial to collect all and any data possible to further along a case. As a homicide detective, you know this. Through and through. Yeah, you’ll still complain in the solitude of your office or back home. Nothing a cup of coffee or a can of Red Bull can’t fix to keep you up another few hours or so.

A yawn interrupted your thoughts and progress. Your head shook to clear any leftover of exhaustion still in your system. A heady can of Red Bull has helped you for the last hour, yet it seems to be wearing off so soon. Maybe, you needed another one. There was still a lot to do until you could go home and collapse for a couple of hours. Your eyes shifted over to the mini refrigerator in your office.

Or was this your sign? The countless hours, sweat, blood, and tears poured to find the murderer have worn you down. It was far beyond rubbed you raw and bloody at this point. You take a gander at the clock to find out what time it was. Big hand over the two while the small hand rested on top of the seven. Shit. It was morning. Not much light peeked through your closed blinds.

The streetlamps nearby didn’t have enough energy to fight its way into your office. Morning. How long have you been here? Had to be… at least… fourteen hours at the office alone? That didn’t account for the time you took to head over to the crime scene once more.

Yeah, there’s pictures of the night it happened. There’s something different about being there in person. Get a feel for the area, the surroundings. See what the murderer saw. Get an idea on how it was done. What he done to kill two average people in cold blood.

Take a moment. You leaned back in your uncomfortable office chair and filled your lungs with air. It was held on for a few seconds before it was released. Twenty-five days and counting. There has been little on revealing the killer. It was clearly planned well and executed down to the minute details. Not a trace of him has been found. Just the fact there were two bodies and stab wounds that littered them. It was clear it had been personal.

The killer had taken his time, was comfortable with his area, to kill these two people. Similar to the well known case of ‘The Nightstalker’. This murderer had sat down for a bite to eat at the dinning room table. It wasn’t a cantaloupe. Instead, a watermelon. Still, no fingerprints of sorts. You hoped to any one who would listen this wouldn’t become a serial killer case. You didn’t need another one of those. Not after Wolf had found you buried in your work.

Kind of like right now.

Wolf. Your heart panged at the thought of him. Away. Somewhere in the universe. Without you at his side. Someday though. You might grow the balls to join him out in there. Where it probably wasn’t safe for you. But not today. Or tomorrow

Twenty-six days. That’s when you last saw him. The day before this whole shit-show hit the fan. You woke up to find your phone buzzing off the night-stand with your commander’s name on the screen. Off you were. To work. More death and blood spilt. You groaned and leaked back in your chair. It bounced with the movement. Your brain screamed to finally get home, to go home and sleep till six o’clock. Wake up and come back here.

Without Wolf. Again. Fuck, you can’t do that. Not when you’re in this kind of state. You were going to cry yourself to sleep once more. Why did he have to leave without you? Go on to save the universe one infestation at a time. You didn’t even know if he was alive. There was no real way of knowing. He can’t give any true day of return. Somedays, it could be an overnight trip. Others, weeks.

This one is becoming weeks. Again. Without him to warm your side. Or wherever you pass out on top of him. You sighed, head leaned against the back of your chair. He’ll come back. He always does. Then, he can give you the support to continue this dreadful case.

Horrifying. A father and daughter erased from earth. Gone with just a bullet to each other their heads. But this killer had to make it fun. Like any other one. You rolled your neck, popping the joints that lined it. Another day in this messed up city. You should really leave with Wolf. Make off with him and live out the rest of your life out there. Together.

Your knees cracked as you put weight on them. A cringe passed over your features at the sound. Either you’re getting old, or that was a sign to move around more than a couple of bathroom breaks. None of matter though. You made the decision to find go home. Despite the fact you’ll be alone another night. You knew your body needed the sleep to continue this day. Sleep it was.

Everything from closing out of tabs, locking your room, and making your way out of the building was all a blur. There wasn’t a coherent thought between your eyes. Which lead you to make the horrible decision to drive home in this condition. Thankfully, the drive home wasn’t long. Just enough to make you complain along the way.

A cool breeze washed over his hot scales as he stepped into the dark apartment. Dark, cold, and quiet. All the things he didn’t want to find. Worst of all, your scent – one he’s been craving since he left – was distant. You hadn’t been here in almost the cycle of your planet’s sun. Where have you gone? Where are you? Why have you been gone for so long?

It was unnatural to feel this way for his kind. That didn’t stop his heart from twisting in its cage. His hands didn’t shake like yours did though. Instead, his breath grew a hair shaky. One you had to listen for to know it was happening. He didn’t let it best him. He took more steps into the main living space and took note of the area.

Disarray. Blankets not folded. Plates of old food sitting on the table. A few clothes strewn across the place. It didn’t smell clean or well-orderly. What has happened to cause this?

Wolf, himself, wasn’t perfect by any means. But he understood what a clean station and living space meant for himself. A pristine work space offered him a greater outcome of his job. If everything was put back to where it needs to be, he can find it faster. He stared at the main living area with furrowed brows.

His hands twitched at his sides. A whispered calling ordered him to pick up. Something nice for you until you came back. You would come back to a clean home. Then he question what has occurred while he was gone to remedy it.

As the Yautja reached for the first unfolded item to clean, a jungle of keys had him stopping. From the many times he’s been here, at your apartment, he’s learned the cues, the sounds of the apartment. Most of the people here have a set schedule of work. Not you though. He’s been awoken to your phone ringing to either an alarm or work calling you in the middle of night.

First that happened, he smashed the device. It had disturbed both of your sleep. When you start to yell at him out of frustration and exhaustion from only three hours of sleep, he learned not to do that. You needed that device to function at your job. Like his own weapons to kill.

He perked his head up, tresses swaying as he listened. Heavy, uncoordinated footsteps slugged their way over to your door. It didn’t sound like you. He activated his cloak and waited in the middle of your living room.

The keys smacked against the metal doorknob. The one key you needed to get into the hole wasn’t working. Each try, it scrapped against the golden doorknob. Without fail, it didn’t go in. You made a soft, frustrated cry and rested your forehead heavily against the front door. All you wanted was you bed. Though, lonely, it would be better than that damn chair at work. How anyone thinks those are comfortable… Fucking crazy.

That sound. Then, your smell waft into the room. Fresh but… something was wrong.

Immediately, Wolf dropped his cloak and marched over to the door. Within two long strides, the door finally opened to reveal… you? Similar to the state of your apartment, yourself wasn’t well kept up. Hair, greasy and a mess in the low light coming from the hallway. Your clothes were wrinkly and smelled heavily of you. Like you wore them to bed and rolled out looking like that.

You trudged inside, lanyard tossed haphazardly to side. They crashed loudly on the counter, momentarily hurting his hearing. Wolf flinched before shaking his head. He waited, slightly to the side for you to react. He had been gone for longer than he wished.

Nothing. Your feet dragged across the hardwood floor. Each slide created a horrible squeaking noise that usually would have you scrunching your nose. Except, your face was blank. Eyes vacant. Dark patches of skin hung below them. He’s seen this before on you. It was rare, thankfully. But he knew what was happening.

He softly trilled at you, as not to startle you. Yet, you kept moving. Slowly but surely enough, you make it past the threshold of your bedroom. The apartment door left wide open. First, he closed it and locked it. Then, Wolf followed quietly behind you, calling your name.

Each time you didn’t react, he said it louder and louder and louder. To the point, your neighbors could hear him. You finally stopped and blinked slowly. Those lifeless eyes of yours met his. He watched a drop of recognition rolled through you. It wasn’t heavy or thorough by the looks of it. You just smacked your lips together and made a popping noise with them. “Huh. Oh, hey,” you greeted, voice gravelly and dry.

For the first time, Wolf didn’t know what to do. All he could do was watch as you collapse face first into the bed. The heavy, long sigh that escaped your body had him moving towards you. His own sigh breathed into the air as well.

In the dark of your room, the Yautja slowly flipped you onto your back. You would be thanking him later. Next, the thick boots that covered your feet were pulled off. They were gently placed next to the bedroom door. After that, came your dirty clothing. Those were tugged off of your body and thrown into your hamper. He took note of how full it was becoming. A project he’ll take on later when he knows you’re taken care of.

In one of your jean pockets, Wolf pulled out your phone. The bright light hurt his eyes in the dark room. He was quick to turn it off before it come make any noise. Wolf could survive you yelling at him for turning it off the next time you woke. For now, he’ll ensure you get sometime to yourself, away from that job of yours.

Don’t get him wrong. He’s highly proud of you and what you do among your kind. Slightly similar to what he does for the Yautjas. Yet, when he sees what it does to you. It pushes you past the limits of the ooman body. It doesn’t even seem like you care that it does either. A good hunter knows his limits, what he can and can’t do. That’s why his last hunt took a bit longer to complete. Or else he wouldn’t be here right now.

Some days, he truly wanted to pick you up from this damn planet and take you far away; show you what the universe has to offer for even a ooman like yourself. Then, maybe you’ll join him at his side. He would give you anything you wanted to have you stay.

Wolf scooped you up from the bed and crawled on top of sheets. With a skill that only a Yautja could harness, he used his foot to scoot underneath the blankets. Your body was carefully placed upon his torso, chest to chest with him. Your face buried into the crook of his neck, as if hiding away from something. Wolf let an arm drape over your back, fully securing you to him.

You melted into his body, lax and malleable. A gentle, rumbling purr began in his chest, vibrating across your skin. He was more than relieved to be back with you. More than you’ll ever know.

#yautja x you #yautja #predator x human #predator x you #x reader #yautja x human #yautja x reader #predator x reader #alien vs predator #predator #Wolf

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josieoh · 2 years ago

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𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑻 𝑻𝑨𝑺𝑲 𝑶𝑵𝑬

— a look at josie's mobile device & social media ( ft. lunara, dae-eun, finley, jacob, enzo, jieun, kahlan; special mention: lukas. )

THE BASICS:

brand of phone:

samsung galaxy z flip4 512GB.

color:

graphite.

case:

this rhinestone & pearl with a chain thing. visual HERE.

locked or unlocked:

locked, of course, with the fingerprint scanner & PIN, which is jacob's birthday in the format of DDMMYR ( 010394 ) and it's only ever been told to jacob, but would it be hard to figure out? nein.

wallpaper:

childhood photo of her & her brother jacob. visual HERE.

lockscreen:

the front face is a photo of lady justice. visual HERE. the actual lockscreen is a photo of herself, courtesy of lukas for her linkedin or some shit idk. visual HERE.

USAGE:

time spent on device:

not as much as one might think, truthfully. she only averages about 1.5 - 2 hours a day, but can certainly be on there longer if it's a day she isn't busy or wants to read.

five most used apps:

web browser. email. spotify. ID GO. wheel of fortune.

web tabs:

two are open: one being an online portal for US case law and the other being the crime report. she checks the former for work and school often, but she reads the former just for fun --- normally in the morning while she eats breakfast or before zonking out for the night.

last thing googled:

chapters 263-280 of massachusetts' statute regarding crime, punishments, and proceedings in criminal cases. she had to confirm something. don't ask me what because i haven't thought that far ahead thx.

last text message received:

a quick "that's my girl. i'm on my way" response from finley after josie sent her a very nsfw video.

last voicemail:

a request to meet up from a past play toy that she watched go to voicemail. she didn't bother listening to it.. just read the first line of the transcription before deleting it.

last thing on camera reel & what image was last saved:

photo last taken: THIS photo of finley. image last saved: THIS photo of perfume she intends to purchase.

extra tidbits:

she's personalised her phone all the way down to making the icons for all of her apps aesthetically pleasing; she does lots of shopping online & primarily does it via her phone rather than her computer; has three different apps for books and the only ones you'll ever see her reading are true crime ones.

SOCIAL MEDIA:

handles:

ohjosie for personal. josieohcp for business. she passed the exam, so she's a certified paralegal, which is what CP stands for.

instagram, latest post:

snapchat, latest sent:

used to be into it back in the day, but doesn't use it anymore.

dating apps:

um. no. she's hot, she doesn't need a dating app lol

spotify:

top three songs of '22: tippy toes ╱ XG {xx}

❝ thrift shop keep ya change and ya two cents bad gyals on the rise, you a nuisance drop jaws, tie tongues, and the loose ends got pushed out a queen, I've been true since... ❞

gucci vision ╱ qveen herby {xx}

❝ i need space, bitch, i'm comin' through if you're in my crew, you can hang tight, we got shit to do if they only knew, damn right we don't follow suit crystals out, she on that witch type... ❞

5-star ╱ CL {xx}

❝ you my ocean, i'm your star yeah 'til six in the morning baby don't stop, keep it coming make me feel so good... ❞

last listened to: yacht (k) ╱ jay park & sik-k {xx}

❝ just for my baby, just for my baby hit me up baby, on the kakao baby gimme good lovin', we can get down baby get down baby, hey... ❞

tiktok:

doesn't have the time nor the desire to bother with it.

facebook:

she deals with it for the firm she works at, but she's never had one herself.

others:

has a youtube account, but the only people she's subscribed to are JCS - criminal psychology ( both accounts ), EWU crime storytime ( all 5 accounts ), and planD. she also utilises reddit, primarily to read certain true crime related things, but she doesn't have an account. probably has a linkedin account for business stuff? who really knows, i don't.

#nightrest:task001 #꒰ 🔮 ꒱ tasks ╱ 𝐣𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞 𝐨𝐡 ◞#i didn't realise until now just how into true crime this birch is oops #and she cARES about her friends?????????? jail #if u see any mistakes no u don't #i was working on this until after 3am 😭

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princessfanonanona · 4 years ago

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How to Human

Part 5 of College Shenanigans, read parts 1, 2, 3, and 4

Special shoutout to @strawberrycamel for helping me bust this out of the nether in like 2 hours(??????) and then helping with edits aaaaaa you are wonderful thank you. Also shoutout to @typo-art for you know giving me enough ear worms to fill up an entire page of timeline notes (including the idea for this fic)

Summary: Several members of the Astronomy Club express concerns over Danny's inability to behave as a normal human and sit him down for a discussion. Danny is touched, honestly.

---

“What are you doing? School is over, I’m supposed to be going home,” Danny whines as Miles drags him by the arm through the school building.

“Because we have made the collective agreement that you are failing, and probably forgot, what it means being human and need some reminders,” Miles says, without looking back.

“How can I forget how to human?” Danny asks.

“What's the safest height a human can fall without dying?” Miles asks instead of answering.

“Uhh, 90 feet?” Danny looks unsure.

“Nope,” Miles answers, “Six feet.”

“Oh,” Danny blinks.

“‘Oh’ is right, you need a refresher course.”

“Can’t we do this later?”

“Nope,” Miles shakes his head, tugging him into the classroom. “We need to start this now so that you don't end up outing yourself by accident.”

“Outing myself how?” Danny frowns at him.

“You’re liminal, right? That's the term?” Jessica asks from a seat in front of Kat.

“Yeah?” Danny agrees.

“Well," Jessica continues, "You can’t go showing off those weird tricks you just naturally do on the reg outside of here or your hometown, 'cause someone is going to start asking questions. And then the wrong sort of people are going to come looking for answers.”

“Okay that's fair.” Danny acquiesces. “So what do I have to do?”

“We were thinking that we should get a baseline of what you think is normal for people and we can go from there?” Jessica offers.

“That seems smart.” Danny says, taking a seat beside Miles and turning sideways to face the girls.

"Let's also be clear and record this properly," Miles says, heading to the whiteboard and unpopping a marker. He writes, in big letters, ‘What Danny needs to be corrected about’ and ‘What Danny is actually correct about.’

“Well, we know he thinks falling height livability is wrong,” Miles writes down.

“Hey Danny, how high can the average human jump from a dead standstill?” Kat asks.

“Uh...15 feet?”

“Nope,” Miles marks that down. “Next?”

“Wait, am I not going to get an answer?”

“Not yet,” Kat shifts to sit cross legged. “How about how long it takes a sprained ankle to heal?”

“Five,” Danny answers without hesitation. “Where’s Anje? I'm surprised they're not here.”

“They already packed up and headed home two days ago ‘cause their last class was canceled.” Jessica answers. " Five what?”

“Hours,” Danny says as if that was obvious.

“Danny, no,” Kat pales in horror.

“Oh my lord, we have so much to cover don’t we?” Jessica whines.

“What’s the average weight a person can lift?” Miles pulls out his phone.

“200 pounds?” Danny guesses.

“Nope, what's the recommended average hours you need to sleep?” Miles marks that down and scrolls on his phone.

“Four?”

“Nope, how many calories is it recommended you intake a day?” Kat cuts in with her own phone in hand.

“Oh Ancients, I haven't a clue.” Danny shakes his head

“Great, at least you're not off there.” Miles snarks.

“Wow, feeling the love guys.” Danny fights to roll his eyes.

“We’re doing this because we love you.” Jessica says.

“Gee. Thanks.” Danny does eye roll this time.

“Anyways, what's the recommended maximum amount of caffeine you can ingest without going into cardiac arrest?” Kat continues.

“That's a thing?” Danny’s eyebrows furrow.

“Yes, it very much is a thing, what did you think would happen?” Kat looks up from her phone.

“All I ever got was a mild buzz from drinking so much!” Danny throws his hands out, palms up.

“Speaking of, what's the blood alcohol limit before alcohol poisoning?” Miles asks with a frown.

“Oh shit, I don't know. Was never relevant for me," Danny glances over, and winces at the growing list.

“How is that not relevant?” Kat asks, slightly perturbed.

“Higher metabolism, human alcohol doesn't really do much for me.” Danny glances back at the older girl.

“Human alcohol?” Miles half screeches.

“Uh yeah, ghost alcohol is so much more potent and actually affects the ectoplasm in my system, otherwise I'd have to, like, chug a bottle of vodka straight in order to get anywhere near drunk.” Danny says, drumming his fingers on the chair arm. "And even then it just burns through my system."

“That, unfortunately, explains so much,” Jessica comments idly.

“I would like to study you,” Kat leans forward on her desk.

“Please don’t, I have nightmares about my parents doing that already, thanks.” Danny leans back in his chair, hands up.

The trio blinks.

“Should we be concerned, Danny?” Miles asks, the previous ire gone.

“Oh no, it’s fine, I've been hiding the liminal thing from them for years.” Danny shakes his head in a small no.

“Why? Would they hurt you?” Kat presses, half standing and bracing herself on the tabletop.

“No no, they’ve never hurt me!” Danny shakes his hands and head emphatically. “It's just, I’ve seen what they do to weaker ghosts and I know that in alternate timelines they’d be fine with it.”

“Then why don’t you tell them?” Jessica asks gently.

“It's been almost five years since the accident and I just don't want to admit to lying to them that long?” Danny rubs the back of his neck.

“Danny, you do realize I was joking about studying you, right?” Kat’s voice is soft and her eyes, imploring. Miles, unseen by Danny, makes a note in his phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, sorry my joke missed.” Danny looks down at his hands. He doesn't see the look the trio shares over his head.

“Okay, so moving on,” Miles clears his throat rather pointedly. “What's the...hottest temperature a human can survive?”

“Uh, 140 degrees?” Danny asks.

“Close, but not quite. Coldest temperature?” Miles asks.

“Negative 300,” Danny says without missing a beat.

“Wait wait wait, are you thinking fahrenheit or celsius?” Jessica asks.

“Oh!” Danny looks sideways and up. “I guess 140° fahrenheit? Definitely negative 300° celsius.”

“That's…” Jessica trails off.

“Danny no…” Kat comments.

“Well temperature gauges are definitely going to be looked at!” Miles announces loudly as he makes a note on the white board. “Why did you switch systems though?”

“Cause that was relevant to where I was?” Danny reveals his palms with a face of ‘what do you want from me’.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for the heat... I remember looking at the thermometer last summer on a really hot day. Personally, I felt like I was dying but seeing a lot of other people in Amity being fine.” Danny shrugs. “And the latter was when I was in the Far Frozen and looking at their thermometer and personally being fine in a light sweater, so...”

“Wait, where's the Far Frozen?” Jessica frowns.

“Oh the home of the yetis I took Professor Birchshoo to meet,” Danny says with a smile. “Frostbite and her got on like a house on fire, it was terrifying.”

“Should we be concerned?” Jessica frowns harder.

“Nah, they’re both yelling at me to eat better so if anything you should poke Birschoo if you have questions about ghosts and liminals when I'm not around.”

“We might just do that, yeah,” she agrees easily. Miles makes another note in his phone.

“Great!” Kat slaps the table for emphasis. “Because I have more questions!”

“Shoot,” Danny says, getting comfortable himself, “This is actually kind of fun?”

“How is this fun,” Jessica asks.

“I’m learning that I'm an idiot but you're not making me feel like an idiot.”

“Danny,” Jessica gets up to sit beside him and places a hand on his arm. “You are probably the second smartest person in the room.

“Second smartest?” Danny frowns at her.

“Miles is probably smarter than you only because of technicality,” Kat shrugs.

“I’m not sure if I should be offended or honored,” Miles frowns at the pair.

“You are both very smart in your respective fields, however, you both can be somewhat dumb.” Jessica gives the boys a teasing, fond smile.

“Yep, I’m offended now,” Miles crosses his arms.

“I am also offended!” Danny huffs.

“What? It’s true,” Kat laughs, “It’s not like you’re an omnipotent god, everyone is smart about their thing and dumb about something unrelated.”

“Yeah, sure, then what are you so smart about?” Miles asks.

“The history of color dyes, textile making, and how certain colors are associated with symbology, history, familial lineage, and religion,” Jessica tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Also the linguistic growth of a language and how it correlates and affects a developing region's culture, history, the sciences, and politics of a nation; and, in turn, how those aspects themselves also change and evolve the language.”

The boys blink at her. Kat sits back to watch her girlfriend with hearts in her eyes.

“Well, okay then,” Danny says looking at Miles. “Did you understand any of that?”

“Maybe half,” Miles shakes his head.

Danny turns back to Jessica, "I know you were speaking English and I know those words on their own, but what."

"It was part of my graduating thesis," Jessica smiles. "Understanding and breaking down the relationship of color on the language of a developing nation and how that relationship reflects, interacts with and grows with the cultural focus of said developing nation.

"Basically how color, the symbolism of it and terminology associated with it, affects a developing nations language and culture and in turn changes and reflects the symbolism and terminology of the color itself."

"That is not something I ever really thought about," Danny admits.

"Exactly," Kat says. "You're both incredibly smart people, just dumb in other topics because those topics are irrelevant for you to know."

Miles shakes his head, “We are way off topic again."

“Point,” Kat says, leaning forward again. “I had questions.”

“Yeah, shoot,” Danny says.

“What do you consider a correctly balanced diet?” Kat continues.

“Uh ectoplasm, carbs, caffeine, starch, protein?” Danny lists. He pauses for a moment and winces slightly, "Not in that order though."

“I'm pretty sure you’ve mentioned you’re not supposed to be eating ectoplasm," Miles frowns.

“Yeah, you can’t cause it’ll really mess you up,” Danny rolls his eyes. “For the ecto-contaminated, we need it to survive after a certain point. Which, y’know, just contaminates us further, but the alternative is dying a very long drawn out death of starvation, so.” He shrugs in a 'what can you do.'

“Well that’s not horrifying or anything.”

“Turns out, a lot of my exhaustion this semester was from not getting enough ectoplasm, who knew?” Danny smiles ruefully.

“You did get that fixed, right?” Jessica asks, worried.

“Oh yeah, of course, that was actually the main reason I had Birchshoo and Frostbite meet, so that Birschoo can stay on top of me better than I was doing.” Danny acknowledges. “I mean she basically strong-armed me into bringing her there.”

“Yeah that’s fair, she’s terrifying.” Kat nods.

“Oh Ancients, when she punched an Observant in the eye, it was by far the best thing I have ever seen,” Danny says excitedly.

“What’s an Observant?” Jessica asks.

“The ghosts that make me do all that ridiculous paperwork,” Danny groans. "They're like the bureaucratic enforcers of the Realms."

“That’s who does that?” Miles frowns.

“Wait, what paperwork?” Jessica asks.

“You know that stack of tinged green paper Danny sometimes came to the club with?” Kat says. “The ones he had that really fancy gel pen he had to use to fill out?”

“Oh, that,” Jessica nods. “Wait, why do you have to fill out ghost paperwork?”

“Because the Observants hate me and want to make my life as complicated as possible.” Danny bemoans, slumping further into his chair.

“Well that sucks,” Kat says.

“What'd you do to piss them off so bad?” Miles asks.

“Apparently an evil, alternate timeline of myself caused the apocalypse and they’re still salty that Clockwork gave me the chance to redeem myself and not go evil,” Danny says miserably.

“Good lord what did you do growing up?” Jessica says.

“Fight and run from ghosts mostly. You had to learn to survive somehow.” Danny answers.

“That doesn't answer anything,” Jessica frowns at him.

“I have more questions.” Kat says, raising a hand halfway.

“Shoot.”

“How fast can a human run?” she asks.

“I dunno,” Danny shrugs, “I only ever measured flight speed.”

“You can fly?!” Miles chokes on air.

“In the Infinite Realms, yeah,” Danny looks over his shoulder at the older boy. “I mean you have to fly to get anywhere over there, it's not like here where there's ground everywhere.”

“How fast can you fly?” Kat asks.

“Uh, last time I measured was a little over a year and a half ago and I think it was 120 miles per hour, if I remember correctly,” Danny looks up and to the right with a frown. “Hold on, I think Tuck still has the stats from the last measurement.” Danny pulls out his phone to shoot off a text.

“That's kind of insane,” Miles whistles, impressed.

Danny’s phone pings, “Nope 210 miles per hour.”

“Holy fuck man,” Miles says.

“That’s insane,” Kat comments.

“Can you take me flying with you next time?” Jessica asks.

“Jessica!?” Kat exclaims.

“What? I’ve always wanted to know how it felt to fly.” Jessica defends.

“Well I certainly can’t, not without serious body armour anyways. Flying through the Real with me would make you like me,” Danny shakes his head.

"Wait, so why was Birchshoo okay?" Miles asks.

"To be completely honest with you?" Danny turns to look at Miles. "She's too old for the ectoplasm to contaminate her."

"Age is relevant to contamination?" Miles blinks.

“If you can't, then can you ask Coffee Ghost to take me flying?” Jessica asks.

“Jessica!” Kat near screeches.

“What? It’s a valid question.” Jessica defends again.

"So you're just gonna ask any guy to carry you in his arms?" Kat frowns.

"Any guy who can fly," Jessica crosses her arms back, "I'd also ask a girl if she could fly too."

Kat face-desks with a groan.

“I cannot believe I am hearing this,” Miles snickers.

“I can’t believe I have to sit and be a part of this,” Danny frowns.

“I have a question,” Miles says, still snickering, “How are ghost babies formed?”

“No,” Danny frowns at the boy.

Miles outright laughs, “Why not?”

“No, no, no,” Danny shakes his head, “An ocean of no with a side of nope sauce, no. I am not getting into that at all.”

“Aww,” Miles pouts at him.

“Okay, but is it really that mucked up?” Jessica asks.

“Very much in the 'wow that is the most horrifying image I have ever seen' and I have seen shit,” Danny shakes his head again.

“Okay new question” Kat starts, “What's the normal human reaction to something gross?”

“Uh, depends on how gross?” Danny cocks his head to the side. “I guess for moderately gross stuff, make fun of it, actually gross stuff, insult it, and supremely gross stuff, just walk away annoyed?”

“No Danny, that's not, no,” Jessica looks moderately affronted.

“Okay but what do you think is moderately gross?” Miles asks with a frown.

“Uhh ectoplasm splatter after a ghost fight? It's basically ghost blood so the green equivalent to, I guess, a Saw movie scene?”

“No Danny, that’s the stuff of horrors and nightmares,” Jessica says.

Danny frowns at her, “A nightmare is something that terrifies you though? And ectoplasm splatter is just gross.”

“What do you consider nightmare fuel then?” Miles asks.

“Watching everyone you love die horrifically and being unable to save them,” Danny says without hesitation.

The trio stare at him for a moment. Danny blinks and ducks his head, pallor paling a drop.

“Is that how that evil you formed?” Jessica prompts gently.

“Yeah,” Danny tugs at the bottom hem of his shirt. “But, I’ve gotten better about it, cause my sister is awesome and likes to play therapist for me.”

“How old is she?” Miles asks, voice quiet.

“Three years older than me, so that's...22 now?” Danny tilts his head. “Yeah, her birthday was last week.”

“And she’s been playing therapist?” Jessica asks.

“Well yeah, cause the two actual therapists I saw tried to eat our misery and gave the entire school depression and made us all suicidal.” Danny shrugs. “It’s fine she’s in school for it and she’s been taking AP courses since like sophomore year of high school so she knows what she's doing.”

“Well if you think she’s been helpful,” Kat frowns at him.

Danny looks up with a weak but genuine smile, "She's honestly the best, I don't know where I would be without her."

“Somehow I feel like the more we ask these questions, the more concerned I am for you,” Jessica says, “This was supposed to be like a fun thing.”

“I think it’s fun!” Danny turns to her. “I mean I don’t really like talking about certain things but you’re right, if i don’t want to end up getting caught by people with questionable intentions I need to know better right?"

The girls exchange a look and turn to Miles who makes a face in return. The trio steel themselves with quiet determination.

“We will make you pass for human if it's the only thing we can do for you as your friend,” Jessica lays a hand on Danny’s arm again. “I mean, we care about you immensely and you deserve happiness and safety. If this helps you, what you share with us, we will take it to our graves. Nothing you say will ever leave this room."

Danny looks around the small group, eyes glistening, “You don’t- that’s- oh Ancients, why?”

“Because we like you?” Kat offers, moving to sit on Danny’s other side on the desk. “Because you're a good person, a bit weird but a good person.”

“And nobody deserves, in any aspect, to live in fear of their own parents, no matter how unfounded,” Miles crosses his arms. “And if it makes your life that much easier, we’ll do it.”

“You guys,” Danny tugs Jessica and Kat into an awkward hug. “You guys are way too nice, who let you be this sweet?”

“Common decency,” Miles huffs, moving closer to ruffle Danny’s hair. “Now before this becomes too much of an emotional mess, shall we continue asking questions?”

“Yeah, go for it,” Danny releases the girls who both give him affectionate hair ruffles.

“Semi serious question” Jessica starts, hand resting in Danny’s hair, “Can I keep playing with your hair?”

“Sure?” Danny glances at her with a shrug.

She lets out a tiny squeal, burying both hands into his locks and starting a very in depth massage.

Danny hums in mild bliss. “Ancients, are you magic?”

“No?” Jessica giggles. “Your hair is just really soft. How is it so soft?”

“Ectoplasm is a wonderful conditioner if you process it right,” Danny hums, eyes drifting closed. “Hey Kat, I’m marrying your girlfriend so I can have epic head massages from now on.”

“Excuse you!” Kat gasps, “That’s my personal head masseuse!”

“I’m free to share,” Jessica giggles again. “More serious question, how often do you think humans need to have personal hygiene habits?”

“Uh? Teeth at least twice a day,” Danny starts and receives noises of approval. “Shower any time you get soaked in ectoplasm?”

“That not, okay yes you should, but if you don’t get soaked in ectoplasm,” Miles rephrases the question.

“I guess like once a week unless you worked out?” Danny offers.

“Okay yep, personal hygiene going on the board.” Miles announces. Danny cracks an eye open to look at him.

“How was that wrong?”

“You should shower like at least every other day,” Kat says. “Body is recommended everyday but your hair can technically go a week without washing, but that's not really recommended.”

“Actually, depending on hair type and bio-oils you naturally produce, typical activity level, amongst several other factors,” Jessica states, hands moving into a strange tugging pattern that was just as relaxing. “You need to wash your hair anywhere between every day to once every week and a half. Danny here, probably could go with a hair wash every day considering how often he deals with ectoplasm but also hair length.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Danny concedes. “What are you doing to it anyways?”

“I'm braiding it.” Jessica announces.

“You can do that?” Danny asks.

“What, like it's hard?” Jessica huffs.

“But it's not that long?!” Danny opens his eyes to try and look at her.

“Don’t move!” Jessica chides. “And it’s long enough.”

“I have the weirdest friends,” Danny sighs.

“Coming from you, that sounds derogatory,” Kat nudges Danny in the shoulder with her shoe.

“Say’s the girl who put rhinestones on my face,” Danny huffs.

“Okay point, but still, you definitely have us beat on the weirdness level.”

“I mean, alright,” Danny concedes. “Considering the point of this whole group.”

“Exactly, babe, switch with me?” Jessica asks.

“Sure,” Kat shrugs and they switch places so Jessica can braid the other side of Danny’s hair.

“Right, was there anything else on the list?” Miles asks, pulling his phone out again.

“Wait, you had a list?” Danny startles, pulling against the strands that Jessica had in her hands.

“Oh jeez!” Jessica rubs the spot of where she pulled. “I’m sorry, are you okay?”

“Huh what?” Danny blinks, slightly disoriented. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just accidentally yanked your hair!” Jessica exclaims.

“Oh, I didn’t feel it,” Danny waves her off to look at Miles, “What do you mean you had a list?”

“Okay in order,” Miles holds up a hand and marks ‘pain tolerance’ on the white board. “We have a list to make sure we covered everything that we thought was relevant. Follow up, what is your pain tolerance like?”

“Uh, what?” Danny blinks at that.

Miles partially rolls his eyes before sighing. “Would you say it’s higher than average, lower than average, and of either, by how much? Honest scale, where do you think you rank compared to the average person?”

“Oh, higher than average, definitely,” Danny answers. “I guess moderately higher? But I’m clearly overestimating normal non-Amity people so probably much higher than average pain tolerance.”

“That’s probably the most correct statement so far,” Miles smiles, marking the other side of the board.

“I feel like there's a but coming,” Danny frowns. Kat snorts so he gives her a light shove on the knee.

“You would be correct,” Miles shakes his head at them. “Mostly that we need to figure out how high your pain tolerance is and then get you to either avoid public injury or react appropriately.”

“I feel like avoiding injury will be easier of the two,” Danny says.

“Usually,” Jessica says as she finishes off the second braid. “Except you have never met a master drama expert.”

“Who's the drama expert?” Danny asks.

“Me!” Kat raises her hand in a dramatic flourish. “I used to be a child actor so you know I can train you in no time.”

“Wait really?” Danny looks up at where she's sitting on the desk. “That’s awesome! How come you never talked about it before?”

“Wasn’t relevant,” Kat shrugs.

“They were also Canadian movies,” Jessica stage whispers into Danny’s ear.

“Hey!” Kat whines. “That was supposed to be a secret.”

“Ah yes, the horrors of Canadian cinema,” Miles rolls his eyes. “Whatever will we do with this information?”

“I don't know,” Kat whines louder, “Take over the world with the cursed knowledge that my movies carry?”

“Done that,” Danny waves a hand with a scoff. “So not the thing to do, way too much paperwork.”

“When did you take over the world?” Jessica asks.

“Alternate timeline, not a fun one,” Danny answers.

“At this point, I honestly cannot tell if you are bullshitting us or are being dead serious,” Miles frowns.

“Oh I'm always dead serious,” Danny says with a smirk. A green sticky note appears on his forehead, covering half his face.

“Oh my gosh,” Jessica giggles, “What is that?”

Danny pulls it off his face with a frown. He blinks at it, expression clearing. “Oh, speaking of alternate timelines, apparently I’m needed to help with this one.”

“Seriously?” Kat asks, leaning over to look at the post-it. It has a bunch of indecipherable scribbles written on it in glowing blue ink. “That’s not English.”

“Obviously,” Danny rolls his eyes, standing up with a stretch. “Well this was fun but I have to go now. I guess text me for actual lessons?”

“Wait!” Kat lunges forward to grab onto Danny’s arm as he opens a portal in the air in front of himself.

“What?” Danny jerks, turning at the sudden tug on his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“First rule of being human,” Kat glares at him, “No more noping out of conversations with a portal to alternate dimensions.

“This one is technically an alternate timeline so it doesn't count, right?” Danny points to the blue ringed portal.

“No portalling out the room where you can be seen or caught on camera!” Miles rephrases.

“Oh, okay,” Danny nods. “Well, I broke the camera in this room when I first joined the club so that's fine still.”

“Let him go, Kat,” Jessica buries her face in her hands.

Kat mutters under her breath and lets go. Danny salutes the group.

“You guys are awesome and I will make it up to you, promise!” Danny waves one last time before disappearing into the blue and green vortex.

“Why did we do this?” Jessica looks up at the group. “Training him how to act normal is going to be the hardest thing on the planet.”

“We can’t give up now,” Miles shrugs as he takes photos of the whiteboard. “Besides, I’m pretty sure this will eventually pay off in the end.”

Jessica yelps in surprise, falling out of her chair.

There’s a green sticky note on her forehead.

“Clockwork!” Kat shouts at the ceiling, “Don’t give my girlfriend an early death!”

A second sticky note appears on Kat’s forehead.

Miles facepalms, before walking over to the pair. “What do they say?”

“Thank you,” Jessica reads off. “In probably the fanciest handwriting I have ever seen.” She turns the note around to show off the graceful loops and sparkling ink.

“Mine says, ‘Sorry about that,’” Kat reads. “Also in the most bougie handwriting.” She also turns her note around to show off the calligraphy. A second note appears on Kat’s face.

“I can see why Danny likes the guy so much,” Miles tugs the note off his red faced friend. “It just has scribbles on it.”

“Oh, that’s upside down.” Jessica says before turning pink and barking a laugh.

Miles blinks at her before turning the note over. It reads, in the most fanciful, swirly calligraphy in the shiniest, glittering metallic blue, 'Bitch.'

#danny phantom #phanfiction #college shenanigans #dp college au #coffee ghost #nona writes

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justhockeythings-blog1 · 4 years ago

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Who said I’m out of your league?

A/N: I wasn’t sure how to end this one so let me know what you all think! Feed back is greatly appreciated! Also I totally had to use this gif, his confidence is unmatched lol

Request: Can you please do a William Nylander imagine where you meet the team for the first time and they tease him about you being out of his league or something. Thanks!

For the entirety of your six month relationship, you had always assumed that Willy was out of your league. He was a professional hockey player, the Swedish-Canadian version of Thor, not to mention that his personality could impress even the strictest mother on the planet. You were, for all intents and purposes, average. You had a normal job, normal friends, you considered your looks to be normal, and you had a normal, by your own standards, upbringing. Your personality was probably the one thing you were confident could hold a flame to Willy’s but even then, he had the ability to be so selfless at times you wondered if you were dating an angel.

Willy on the other hand thought that you were the most amazing thing to ever walk this planet and he took every single opportunity to tell you just that. You did something different with your hair? “Wow babe, you look amazing.” You wore new clothes that you just got? “Damn baby you should model for that company.” There was never a shortage of compliments that came from him about you.

Which was probably why you didn’t feel as nervous as you should about meeting his teammates for the first time. You knew that Willy loved you, there was never a doubt in your mind, so you figured even if today went horribly wrong in every aspect you still had that going for you. You also had heard wonderful things about his teammates, from Willy himself but also the fans. It wasn’t like you hadn’t interacted with them in some capacity, they had heard your voice over the phone or briefly over the headset when Willy joined them for video games. You were pretty sure Willy had talked about you to them, at least in some capacity, so really you should be set up for an easy meeting with all of them.

That’s what you tried to tell yourself anyways, the closer you got to the bar you were meeting the team at the more you felt your hands beginning to sweat. You rubbed them on your jeans for the fifth time, reaching over to lace your fingers with Willy’s as he drove. You thought you were holding your nerves fairly well, you had assured Willy before you left that this was going to be a walk in the park.

Boy were you beginning to eat your words.

“What’s got you so worked up?” He teased, pulling his eyes away from the road momentarily before he returned them to focus on where he was going. “You’re never nervous.”

That was a lie. In fact Willy had seen you nervous on numerous occasions, including the first time you two had ever met. He would be lying if he said he didn’t find it cute. You had a number of nervous ticks that he had picked up on over the last few months. You would bounce your leg while waiting for an event that was causing your nerves to spike or you would bite your lip when deep in thought, as if planning out every option. Your cheeks would heat up, creeping up your neck, when someone called you out on any and you would wave your hand in the air as if physically brushing the nerves away momentarily.

Right now you were expressing all of those ticks, right down to the heat climbing up your neck as you tried to wave your free hand absentmindedly, brushing his words out of the air. It caused Willy to smile, he knew you better than you thought he did. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it before he focused back on the road again. You would never admit it to him, you liked to be a neutral front but he had seen your nerves spike randomly in the days leading up to today. You had grilled him about his teammates a few times, wanting to make sure you at least had the basics of their names, girlfriends who may or may not be there. It had made Willy laugh, comparing it to you taking notes as if you were about to write a paper on the leafs player.

“You can hide it all you want, but you’re nervous.” He called you out again and you gave him a sharp look, sticking your tongue out at him childishly.

“I’m not nervous, I’m just…” You trailed off, tossing around a number of emotions in your head before you settled on the one. “Worried. These guys are your teammates and your best friends. I know it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, because you love me and that’s important but it’s going to make things awkward if they don’t like me.”

You turned to look at him, letting your words settle in the car as Willy parked, your stomach dropping to your feet as you realized you were there. Everything felt so much more real now that you were looking at the sign of the bar, peering in the front window you could see Zach and Rasmus, already surrounded by other players.

“Hey..” Willy’s soft voice pulled your eyes away from the window and back to him. “It’s going to be okay. They’re going to love you, I mean it’s not like I haven’t hyped you up. Just be yourself, if you’re uncomfortable after like an hour then we can go, okay?” He assured you, giving your hand another kiss.

“Okay, let’s go.” You smiled a little, grabbing your purse and climbing out, stopping in front of the car to wait for him before you both made your way inside. Your stomach flipping once more as he held the door for you, following you inside and guiding you over to the table.

“About time, we were wondering if you got lost on your way.” Zach teased, causing Willy to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I get lost one time and you never let me live it down.” Willy laughed, pulling out a chair for you to sit down in before taking one at your side. “This is Y/N. Y/N, this is Zach, Rasmus, Auston…”

You followed his finger as he pointed to each player who was there, as well as their own guests, mentally trying to commit them all to memory. You were pretty good when it came to names and faces, but the nerves weren’t helping, you could almost feel your hands shaking a little.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you all.” You waved a little, smiling softly as conversation picked up, Willy holding your hand under the table.

It was as though you had known these people your whole life, you fell into conversation easily, answering questions about your job, hobbies, and your family. Willy kept a close eye on you the entire time, making sure that you weren’t getting overwhelmed by the amount of people who were trying to get to know you all at once. He smiled a little as he watched you engage in a conversation with Mitch about puppies and which breed was superior. He hadn’t been worried about you meeting the guys, he knew you would get along well and they would probably end up liking you more than him.

In his mind it was impossible to not like, you were the sweetest person he had ever crossed paths with, with the exception of maybe his mom. You were constantly doing what you could to help others, taking care of him in the smallest ways like putting his laundry away after a road trip, making his favorite dinner after a rough game, or making sure he followed the trainer’s instructions even if he tried to avoid them. Not to mention that you seemed to make friends everywhere the two of you went, you just had the type of energy that drew people to you.

“Hey, I’m going to grab another drink with the girls, did you want anything?” You asked, pulling him out of his thoughts as you stood up and he smiled a little. “Sure, surprise me.”

He gave your hand one more squeeze as he watched you branch away from him with some of the girls, making your way up to the bar to order your drinks. It was like a proud parent watching their kid go off to school for the first time, it was a sign to Willy that you really were comfortable around his friends now.

“Dude, she is so out of your league.” Mitch snorted, taking a sip of his drink as he watched Willy look after you with that same lost puppy dog expression you had been describing about your own dog only moments ago.

Willy felt his cheeks heat up as he tried to hide his face in the last remnants of his drink, he should have known the second they had him alone they would say something to him.

“I mean seriously, she’s like a walking angel. How did you land her?” Zach asked, joining in on the chirping of their young teammate. Everyone was happy that Willy had found someone who seemed to match his energy, knowing that the blonde deserved the best.

“It’s my undeniable charm boys, maybe you should try it sometime.” He smirked a little, firing back at his teammates as they all erupted into chuckles around him.

“Well if she ever wants a real man, let her know I’m always around.” Rasmus teased, reaching over to mess up Willy’s hair playfully as Willy smacked his hands away.

“She wants a man not a man child.” Willy fired back before he felt a hand on his shoulder, another drink being placed in front of him. “Got your usual!”

He smiled as he saw you sitting back down beside him, shooting a look to the boys to behave, he didn’t mind their chirping but he didn’t know how you would take it seeing as how this was your first time meeting them and while it was going well, he didn’t want it to ruin anything.

The rest of the afternoon continued in a similar manner, the conversation flowed easily, and any time you stepped away from the group Willy was hit with another round of chirping about how you were out of his league. It was all in good fun and by the end of the afternoon you had begun to pick up on some of the chirping that carried over into the normal conversation, firing back at the boys with a smirk.

“I mean, at least Willy knows what he’s doing, when was the last time a girl came back to you after a night?” You shot back at Auston innocently, sipping your drink as Willy and the boys burst into a loud round of laughter, accepting the high fives and the fist bump from Auston.

“On that note, I think we better get going, gotta get my girl home and away from you hooligans.” Willy smiled, throwing his tip money on the table as he helped you up and you waved your goodbyes to the group.

“Bye Y/N! You know where to find us if you ever want an upgrade!” You heard the boys called, laughing as you and Willy made your way back out to the car. The ride home was nice, you were buzzing as you filled Willy in on the conversations he hadn’t been a part of. This continued when you got home too, jabbering away as you made your way upstairs, stripping out of your jeans and sweater, tugging a pair of his sweatpants from the drawer as he sat on the bed, staring at you.

“Damn you are so out of my league.” He muttered to himself, smiling as he watched you glow in relief of his friends approving of you.

“What? Who said I was out of your league?” You frowned a little, setting yourself between his legs and playing with his hair as you looked down at him, his hands resting on your sweatpant clad hips.

“Just the guys chirping at me, don’t worry about it but they do have a point. I am dating a literal angel.” He smiled as he could tell that the heat was rising up your neck to your cheeks again, in an attempt to hide your blush you shook your head. These were the things you usually thought about Willy, not things you were used to him saying about you.

“Oh please, have you looked in the mirror Nylander?” You hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips so he couldn’t argue against you. “Maybe we aren’t out of each other’s leagues but just in a league all our own.”

He smiled against your lips, giving your hips a gentle squeeze. “That’s a pretty elite league to be in, I must’ve gotten called up when I started dating you.”

“You’re running my compromise!” You laughed and pushed his shoulder, hardly enough to budge him. “Now, I had fun today but can we get pizza or something and just chill? My social battery is drained.”

He smiled and stood up, now towering over you gave him the advantage to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Your wish is my command, Princess.”

#william nylander #william nylander imagine #Toronto Maple Leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs story #william nylander x reader #william nylander story #william nylander writing #nhl writing #nhl #nhl imagine #toronto maple leafs writing

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insomniac-dot-ink · 4 years ago

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Hey! A new wlw short story is up on my Patreon. Check it out! And please consider becoming a Patron for more wlw writing and more. As a struggling artist anything helps.

Here’s a free preview:

Headlights Girl

Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the land, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they shrank away from my gaze deep into their cages into the nooks and crannies. Most things do.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness and sleep. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There have been stranger kids born in the age of spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for small articles and mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy with fire on his breath. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father calls it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He doesn’t look at me much. And I know what he means. I know what he means when he calls it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. They could barely afford to send me to That School. I didn’t want to be there either.

We weren’t the same, not really. None of us are the same age and most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons under flat mattresses. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or have a pig-nose or blackhole for a nose. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he runs away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I’m 16 when I heel-toe my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with a collection of loose clothes, change, a bath towel, sewing kit, a bible written in a language I don’t speak, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he’s at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at Target and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There’s a beer in front of his idle hands and he glances at the bag on my shoulder.

He sighs like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafs through a wad of cash he kept in a safe in the garage. He hands me almost three hundred bucks and we nod at each other. I’m out the door before the midnight bus arrives.

I watch the headlights of the bus approach through dense summer night and think it must be like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I get on the bus and kick my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, I cross my arms over my chest, and watch the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet move like tides. They toss me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I taste the painted deserts toward the west. I dip my toes into the largest cities with lights brighter than my own. I graze my palms on neon signs and hunch my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touches me. They don’t come close enough when I open my eyes and they see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that will smite them.

I find my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gather. I don’t talk much, I don’t like to, and people stare at me whether I’m speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it aches. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’ve never seen a movie in any theatres, but I can imagine what it’s like.

I like the ocean cities best with their pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding white paths, and crushed seashell parking lots. I like the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkles from the ocean water as it sun-dries. I camp out on beaches and bum cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I’m good at taking care of myself once I get in a rhythm.

Sometimes, or often, I dream of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dream of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I am weighted down through the cold to where no human has ever been before. I open my eyes there, I open them all the way, lightning-bright, and in my dreams, the salt doesn’t sting. It doesn’t hurt, instead, I light up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I do something good then. Maybe I do something good and bring the sun to places that have forgotten it.

I meet Mags on the beach. She’s got one eye and five teeth and carries around string and scissors everywhere. She smells like seawater and roasting kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes are neat despite her leather-cracked skin and her arms and neck are covered with tattoos of shipwrecks. She cackles and pulls me aside the first night we meet.

“What’s your name?” Her voice is old creaking wood. I am quiet. “I could give you one.” She offers with a grin that is more empty space than anything.

I shake my head. “Nana.”

“What do you like, kid?”

I shake my head again.

Mags likes me more than I deserve. I pocket her last pair of socks when she’s not looking. She never mentions it and drags me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She takes me to the soup restaurant for something that isn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackles, she spits when she talks, people glare at her as well.

I think she’s normal, not touched by the spirits, but she likes me more than most people and I don’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snort. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snap.

“Lippy-wild thing. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heats the needle before she uses it, red hot and untouchable. She dips it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she calls them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin with color and movement. She shows me on her right foot first, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It takes her six hours to make a little shipwreck right above her big toe. It’s a schooner going under and I’m the only witness to the way she makes the waves come to life and crash against its sides. I can’t look away and I forget to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washes another needle. She heats it red-hot. She dips it in ink and hands it to me.

I practice all over my thighs first, there’s enough meat there and it’s easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looks like nothing but squiggles, a wobbly stick figure on a skateboard, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practice designs in the sand. Mags takes me to the museum on Sundays. They’re free on Sundays.

Something stirs in my chest, even as the guards yell at me about how flash photography isn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I’m shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rots roars to life in my chest.

I stab in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake next, and then finally, something good, something that gives people a reason to stare. I make it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than the others.

I don’t want to leave the ocean city. Mags says she has to keep moving though. She gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackles. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winks as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I want to make her pinky-promise like I’m a kid again and begging one of the other kids to tell me if I’m actually beautiful when I close my eyes. I can’t do that; I wave as she totters up the steps of the bus and is taken away with the tides of her own feet. ------------ I get an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked to them first and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but coach surfing and camping out on beaches is a tiring pastime. Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie run a tattoo shop together. Davies walks like he’s never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie has a throw-pillow that says “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies is nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie has topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’s been asked to leave a number of stores before the children start staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me, it’s not that type of town. I rankle at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. I brush off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie calls me “Shadow” and I think it’s a joke. Davies says I must be possessed by the ghost of a dead star and now I’m nothing but a blackhole: take everything in and let nothing out.

Neither of them lets me touch a needle in those first six months. They have me practice on pig skin and stand by their shoulder as they work. I feel like a dental assistant except I’m the hanging light above shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stand at their shoulder as they draw thick lines and thin dots and make hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They ask me to stop blinking and stand still. I almost walk out and find a new cliff to crash against, almost. No one had ever expected me to show up to something before. No one cared if I went to school or when I got home. And no one kept any tabs on me after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, it didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow.” She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I am eloquent in the morning.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want the desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

I grumble. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before. I tell myself I’ll just try it out, no harm in having a bit of a savings anyway. No harm in seeing what the fuss was about.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with my eyes. I don’t let up though. I put on pants for this, after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder now.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, he had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me now as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “The line’s barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” He chuckled darkly. His grin is crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.

“Look at you go. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun before the new year. I tell myself I’ll only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I don’t have to actually stay. I’ll just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chases after girls with eyes that glow.

I don’t break my lease. I draw cartoon heroes in speedos on tipsy college girls who swear they’re sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I have to give two refunds for a duck that turns out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with nothing but doors ahead of her. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I’m best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It’s dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hide my smile when she goes to my bosses and points at it while jumping up and down. The best thing she’s ever seen. She should pay us double. Where did you get this girl? I try not to blink so they can’t see the wetness under my eyes.

Sometimes I still stand by the bus stop to check who’s coming off. I don’t expect to see Mags again so soon, but sometimes I want to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

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