#the couch reclining cord

[eat-rock]

moodboard for my dog who ate the ethernet cord yesterday

[duskythesomething]

i did in fact buy a couch! ..it won't fit in my stairway! :D

[crippleprophet]

my recommendations for the si joint dysfunction starter pack (half-joking) are an si belt, lumbar support pillow(s), an si cushion, & a yoga mat. unfortunately all together that’s expensive as shit because they’re all like $30 but i’ve built up my collection over time & they’ve all been integral to my life.

i’m homebound now so i only have to sit in something that isn’t our recliner couch when i go to the doctor, but back in postgrad i would take my si cushion in my backpack or sitting on it in my mobility scooter & never sit in a chair without it. the added elevation kinda aggravated my knee pain, so i started bringing the cheapest, widest lap desk i could find bungee-corded to my mobility scooter & would take that off, set it up on the ground, & prop my feet up on it. honestly i didn’t gaf back then like what the hell 😂😂 i hurt way too bad to give a shit about abled opinions

the lumbar support pillows i have a smaller, squishier one for sitting in the couch recliner & a larger, firmer one for laying on my back in the bed. it hurts like shit lol but it helps a looot with that like passive stretch. that under my lumbar spine + regular pillow under my knees stretches it so good just laying on my back in bed.

idk how many of you know this so i’ll tack it on here but if you have ankylosing spondylitis it can help neck pain to use a flat pillow! my current one is just flattened by being old as hell but i’ve previously used one marketed to toddlers bc those are made to be as flat as possible. the reason is bc a thicker pillow pushes your neck more into a certain position, generally forward or to one side, which can make morning stiffness & pain worse. some people stop sleeping with a pillow at all but my pain is better with cushioning (i usually sleep on my side with a pillow between my legs & a pillow between my arm & head, & squishy stuffed animals between my hands & the mattress) so i still need one, & when i first switched from a thick memory foam pillow to the toddler one my neck pain got improved So Much literally overnight

obv this is all just my experience but i hope some of that is helpful!! feel free to add on with other shit spine tools & crip hacks!!

[cherry-cola-on-ice]

Ok I have a another idea can you write Thomas Hewitt with a teen daughter who is in a relationship! Also love your work ❤️❤️❤️

Too young to feel this old

He should be happy for his daughter. You were, so why wasn't he?

Thomas Hewitt heard his daughter laughing on the phone, no doubt twirling the cord around her finger. She said a name, but all Thomas could hear was his heart beating rapidly in his chest. She laughed again and Thomas felt sick.

His daughter was light of his life.

Well, the second light in his dark life. I

t was hard for anything to take your place, you had dragged him outta of hell and straight into his own little heaven. Through sheer grit and determination, the two of escaped the hellhole of that Texan town. Started a life of your own.

When your daughter entered his life, he finally felt complete. He had you, a home and this little bundle of joy wrapped up in a pink blanket.

But that was sixteen years ago.

His hair was graying and he could feel his knees aching from the years. There was no doubt about it that he was getting older.

But she wasn't.

At least, she wasn't supposed to be. His daughter was supposed to stay his little girl forever, with pigtails and missing teeth smiles. Constantly asking her dad for help, asking him to play with her. Forever his baby.

Then she brought him home. This outsider trying to steal away his happiness.

He guessed that this intruder seemed nice enough. He worked hard and looked at his daughter like she hung the stars in the night sky.

Thomas huffed, walking away from the sound of his daughter's delighted giggles. He sat down on his recliner in the living room, trying to ignore the way his body creaked. You sat there on the couch, a old paperback in your hand.

Without even looking up at him, you said "He's good enough for her, Tommy. You just refuse to let it be. "

Thomas grunted, fingers tearing at the old fabric of the chair. You looked over at him, eyebrow raised "He is. And you know he is. I know he is."

If Thomas could speak, he would have some very not nice things to say to right now. As if you read his mind, you slammed your book down "Thomas Hewitt, you need check your attitude. Because all you're doing is making everyone else miserable. "

You stood up and placed your hands on his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks "She's your baby, I get that. And maybe if we could've had one more it wouldn't hurt so much. But she's growing up, rather you like it or not. And she needs us, her parents, to help her and trust her to make the right decisions. "

You stood back up, hands on your hips " He's and great boy, who's going to turn into an great man. Someone our daughter deserves. "

In the background, Thomas could hear the phone click, followed by a shout for you "I need help deciding what to wear tonight! "

"I'm coming, honey!" You shouted back, before turning to look at him "It's your choice, Tommy. Stay here and become a grouchy old man alone. Or... be the best fucking father this world has ever seen. "

Thomas blinked, thinking over your words. Maybe it wasn't his daughter growing older that scared him. Maybe it was himself. He laughed.

His daughter's boyfriend wasn't that bad.

[t-h-i-n-g]

can you do some cute max mayfield x reader fluff?? Ik you get a lot of Max requests but i love her sm 😭

Come Over

(gif not mine credits to owner)

a/n: how I came up with this was just looking up fluff prompts and came across "Why'd you call me?" "I missed your voice," and just kinda went off of that. Ty for requesting :))

word count: 800

summary: max's original plan of spending the night at the wheelers is changed as she gets a phone call from a special someone and she is more than happy to take up their request.

warnings: none but some light swearing

st - masterlist m.masterlist

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

Max was tired.

Dealing with teenage boys hyped up on sugar and deciding to yell at a TV over a show that she didn’t care to know the name of was draining.

Max rubbed her temples when Mike once again jumped up from his spot on the couch, hand pointing at the screen in an accusatory matter. Silently she glared at him as it took him no longer than five seconds to watch the conflict be solved. Sitting back down he went back to zoning in on the action-packed bit.

Shifting her gaze she looked at the floor, where poor little El just sat in tranquility and a smile on her face, wrapped in a blanket.

Huffing to herself, Max just couldn’t comprehend how an overall sweet, caring human being could find peace in a wack-ass person that barely showers three times a week.

Dragging a hand down her face, she glanced at the clock resting on a side table. It was only 7:00 pm and she had signed up for a night full of binging.

Technically nothing was holding her back from leaving, but she had nothing else better to do. 

Billy was home tonight and she didn’t want to hear him bitching about the number of times she had brought her girlfriend over.

Who wasn’t even here. When Max found out you couldn’t make it she threw a little fit. Stating she won’t be able to stay sane if you didn’t go with her.

But she guesses, visiting your brother that lives in another state was a good enough excuse.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a little empty not having you cuddled up next to her on the recliner like usual.

“He just needs to stop.”

“You’d think getting nailed in the gut would tell him to back off, but no.”

“There he goes again. Just give up, you’re gonna get pummeled.”

“He practically already did.”

“Literally though.”

This was the third time they’d had this conversation. Seemingly they have to continue to break apart with every little repeating event.

Just as Max was about to tell them to just shut up with the commentary, footsteps came down the basement stare.

“Max, somebody on the phone wants you,” Nancy informed. Not giving her time to ask questions Nance went back up the way she came.

Furrowing her brows, she pushed off the chair and stepped over the bodies littering the floor. Nobody paid her any mind, still too tranced by the TV in front of them.

Confusion crowded her mind with the thought of who wanted to talk to her. Opening the door, Max shuffled across the kitchen tiles, moving to the phone.

With slight hesitation she picked up the object, placing it to her ear.

“Hello?” She greeted.

“Hey.” Max’s heart jumped to her throat.

“Y/n? What are you doing?”

“Calling you duh.” Max’s face grinned at your playful tone.

“I mean why are you calling me?” 

“Missed your voice, shit kinda went sideways today,” you mumbled.

“Did something bad happen?” 

“Our flight was canceled cause the pilot wasn’t available and they weren’t able to get another one.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that.”

“It’s all good though,” you assured. “Just kinda ticked off that we had to drive like 3 hours just to be told to turn back around. But it’s fine. I called your house but Billy answered and said some shit like, ‘Skrew you and your dog, Max is at the Wheelers’ I don’t know why he dragged my dog into it but he told me where you were so it’s alright, I guess.” Max chuckled, twirling the phone cord around her finger.

“So you’re back home then?” She asked.

“Mhm,” you affirmed, “Was just calling to see if you wanted to come over or something tonight. It’s been a long day, I just want to see you.”

Max bit her lip to conceal her smile at your statement. She could never understand how you made her feel like such a giddy schoolgirl.

“But if you’re doing something with the party I get it-”

“No!” she cut you off quickly. She cleared her throat, shocked by her own little outburst. “I mean we aren’t really doing anything. They’re just watching some lame show. If you want I could ask Karen if you could come over.”

“Eh,” you sounded, “I was kinda hoping if it could be just you and me, but if you want to hang with them I get it.”

Max just knew she looked like the Cheshire cat with the way the smile on her face was splitting her cheeks.

“No, no it’s fine. We can just hang out. The others are too into their TV to miss me too much anyway,” she stated.

“Cool, I’ll pick you up in ten.”

“Cool,” she repeated.

“See you soon, Max.” Her heart fluttered at the sound of you using her name, but she quickly shook the fealing away.

Seriously she was getting way too into the school girl in love act.

However, she didn’t pay it another thought as she darted out of the room and down the stairs. Grabbing her stuff, she explained to the others you were coming to pick her up.

“But it’s just getting to the best part!”

“Shut up, Dustin. You’ve said that like seven times already.”

-----------

likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

[gravedigest]

Teeniest DS drabble.

“I need your help,” Doc had said.

Deimos scratches his head, staring at the problem.

What he’s looking at is Hank.

Splayed out, dead eye aimed up at the ceiling, jaw agape. Deimos didn’t even know Hank’s jaw could open, the only time he’d seen Hank fed involved a pump and a tube snaked through the hollow space of his torso, and he only speaks through a synth.

“Are we hiding the body, or…?” Deimos’ eyes slide away from the nearly normal image of what he assume is, once again, Hank’s corpse.

Doc’s got a cord in hand.

“He’s not dead.”

“He looks pretty dead.”

“I can assure you, he’s not dead. Sit down.”

“Are you aboutta plug me into a corpse?”

“Deimos-“

“I seriously do not want to interface with a dead guy, man. That’s gonna fuck me up. Like, emotionally. And I’ve got ethical concerns-”

Doc bypasses the rambling by gripping Deimos by the top of his head, forcing him to stare at the floor as he jacks the cable in like a man putting a leash on a misbehaving dog, complete with tugging on the lead to get Deimos to follow.

And Deimos really should be offended, outraged, cussing Doc out for the mistreatment, but his damned legs move while he’s still leaning forward and speechless

“He’s still running, you can hear his damned fans if you would listen,” Doc pushes him down into couch, next to Hank’s dead weight. “But he’s been unresponsive for an hour and I need to know if it’s a network error, or if he’s being petty.”

“You can’t plug him into a PC and figure that out?”

“Aren’t you my PC?”

Deimos doesn’t get to reply, because Doc pops the other end on the cable in before he can.

The connection is a weird feeling, not like tunneling, where he’s wholly sucked into the experience on the other side. He can register his own feet on the floor, see the room from his own eyes, feel his lips curl and his nose scrunch from the sensation.

It’s like having eyes in the back of his head.

And what he’s seeing out the other side?

It pulls the air from his lungs all at once…

… As a bark of laughter.

[fuck man are you serious rn]

[What.]

[docs gonna get pissed as hell dude youre zonked like you bluescreened on the couch and hes like two seconds from vivisecting you to see what broke]

In that second set of eyes, neons flash by. Sleek, shiny graphics, an artificial city rolling out, the phantom sensation of the sports-car’s movement jarring Deimos’ real life sense of balance bad enough that he reclines in his seat, throwing his arms over the backrest to ground himself.

“What’s going on in there?”

[Shut up. Keep lookout.]

[yeah sure whatever put the pedal to the floor]

Deimos waves a hand to Doc, who’s peering down at him before he closes his eyes to focus on the race.

“Hank’s gaming.”

[punsmaster69]

12/OCT/20XX

undyne and alphys seem to have gotten some spooky new yard decor. these inflatable things, with lights on 'em.

alphys clicked two cords together.

....

the lights did nothing.

she tried again.

still nothing.

"probably has a bulb loose."

"ACK!-"

alphys whipped around to face me.

"Sans! Don't s-sneak up on people like that!"

"sorry. you need a hand with frankenstien there?"

"You of all people should know it's-"

"frankenstien's 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳."

"Yeah! O-of course you'd know-"

"..oh. here's your problem. bulb's missing on his left eye."

"you got a spare?"

"I think there was an extra in the box."

alphys retrieved the light and fixed it to the eye.

"Plug it in, Sans!"

"ok. here goes."

the inflatable monster lit up everywhere except the opposite eye.

"It worked!- wait. T-the right eye doesn't light up now?"

i pretended not to notice her glance at me and snort a little.

"hope that's the last malfunctioning bulb, 'cuz there's no more spares."

i changed the bulb, so she plugged it in again. all the lights worked this time.

"nice."

"Thanks for the hand."

"..Oh! You probably came here for something, right?"

"yeah. wanted to ask you somethin'."

"have you been hanging around papyrus more lately?"

she froze.

"I- I-"

"Y-yes, but-"

"I haven't- I didn't-"

"I didn't come up with it!"

"...."

"ok."

"just wondering."

"You- you're not upset?"

"nah. i mean, it's a little strange setting me up to be alone with my 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱, but obviously nothing happened 'cuz we're 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀, so i don't know what you expected."

"T-that was NOT nothing-"

alphys slapped a hand to her mouth.

"........."

"taking back what i said about not being upset."

"I-I only saw the end part!"

"If you're 'just' friends with Toriel, why did she romantically kiss you goodnight?"

"(...romantically?)"

"she.. does that to everyone, i think."

"𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵??"

"you don't kiss your homies goodnight?"

"I-I'm DATING my 'homie', Sans!"

"still counts."

"Are you r-really telling me you don't like Toriel 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡??"

"i like our friendship."

"....."

"Look, I know w-what it's like to not wanna mess things up, but-"

"i'm not gonna."

"..What?"

"let's say i did like tori."

"and i decided to ask her out."

"she says no? ok. well, she doesn't wanna hang out after that, for sure."

"she says yes?"

"...."

"would anything change?"

"You could spend your nights cuddling together.. dancing.. o-or go out on dates!.."

"What- what's with that look?-"

"....OH MY GOD??"

"like i said, i don't know what would change-"

alphys excitedly slapped my shoulder.

"Just ask her out! Y-You're pretty much already-"

"i'm going home."

"gonna tell papyrus you're bullying me."

"YOU CAN'T J-JUST LEAVE AFTER-"

.....

nope.

won't think about it.

friendship is just different between people. that's that.

i reclined back on the couch and turned on the tv.

——

a loud slam jolted me from my seat.

"YOU'RE DATING ALREADY??"

"IT SEEMS LIKE OUR EXPERT PLAN WORKED FASTER THAN ANTICIPATED!!!"

"𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩?? (plan?-)"

"we're still friends."

"WELL OF COURSE YOU'RE 𝘍𝘙𝘐𝘌𝘕𝘋𝘚. JUST WITH A NEW PREFIX!!"

"i'm not dating toriel."

"OH."

papyrus quietly closed the door behind him and sat next to me on the couch.

".....WHY?"

"dating requires a mutual love."

"......and, there's probably.. not that."

"YOU DON'T LIKE MS. TORIEL?"

"no, it's probably that 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭 doesn't like 𝘮𝘦."

"SO.. YOU DO 𝘓𝘐𝘒𝘌 HER, THEN."

....

do i?

[paytato435]

Chapter 10: The Bug

Learn to Fly

Mikey was starting to get on Casey’s nerves.

“Hey, Casey, Casey, heeeeyyyy…” Mikey waved at him from under a mountain of blankets on the couch. Casey begrudgingly pulled his headphones off to listen to him. In doing so, the invisible barrier he’d built up around himself dissolved.

“Are you going to actually ask me what you want now?” Casey asked with a little irritation as he pushed the vacuum cleaner over the living room rug.

He wasn’t really in the mood to talk. Especially if Mikey was also going to try and get him to open up again, even though they’d both agreed to pause his unlicensed therapy sessions.

This wasn’t the first time, but Casey had woken up at four in the morning and couldn’t fall back asleep. The nightmare that had forced him awake wouldn’t let go of him, and the only thing he could think to do was to make himself busy. 

Blasting the angriest music he could find through his headphones and straight to his core, Casey decided that every speck of dirt in the lair was his sworn enemy. While all of his clothes were in the washing machine, he had bleached and scrubbed coffee stains off the kitchen counter, found dishes left out to go in the washer, scrubbed the ones that were particularly crusty, and then swept the whole first floor shared space. Switching the laundry over, he moved to mopping, even going so far as to move the furniture around halfway through to get to otherwise neglected areas. 

It was probably the struggle Casey had in moving Splinter’s recliner that had disturbed the box turtle. The look on his face when he saw Casey cleaning made it look like he didn’t recognize his own home. Still drowsy but probably just looking for an excuse to be around someone, Mikey curled up onto the couch and played video games as Casey mopped the rest of the room. While it didn’t bother him so much that Mikey shared the space with him, it had started to get on his nerves when the turtle kept glancing over at him like he wanted to say something, but refused to do so.

“Well, now you’re going to vacuum, so maybe not…” Mikey hummed nervously.

“Mikey, tell me what’s going on already!” he snapped, perhaps a little too harshly.

“Ok ok, it’s just, I’m worried you’re gonna say no.”

“Clearly.” Casey huffed, twirling the power cord.

“Can you… can you teach me how to fly?”

Casey opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again. How was he supposed to teach Mikey how to fly?

Mikey rocked his head back and forth laterally in deliberation. “It’s just… I talk to Draxum about it but he doesn’t care about it that much. He’s way more into technical magic stuff? Like spells and stuff.” Mikey gagged a little. “But you said I could fly so… I was hoping you had some pointers for me.”

Casey glanced up at Donnie’s lab and remembered the conversation they’d had about his future tech before. If he was being fair, he should probably turn Mikey down. He could just say he didn’t know anything, but then again, Mikey wouldn’t figure it out for years….

Damn, Leatherhead was right, he was a hypocrite.

“Sure.”

“Wait really?!” Mikey squealed. “You can help???”

“I don’t see why not, but we need to go over a couple things. First thing of course, is that I only have what you’ve said about the subject, I don’t really get it myself.”

Mikey nodded.

“Second, you might want a helmet.”

“A helmet?”

“The first time you did this you gave yourself a concussion on the ceiling.”

“Ok that’s fair,” Mikey pouted. “Raph! Can I borrow your helmet?”

“Shut up!” came Leo’s response, who was still trying to sleep. It seemed Leo had not been kidding about not being able to sleep the night before. Casey hadn't either, of course, but he felt it would be better to pass out vacuuming a floor than to lie in bed hoping he wouldn't have anymore nightmares.

They were both low odds, but he tried his best.

Hearing no response from the snapping turtle, Mikey poked his head behind Raph’s curtain and snatched his football helmet.

“Seems he’s done a night patrol,” Mikey shrugged, putting the helmet on. “Alright, show me how it’s done!”

“Show… right…” Casey rolled his eyes and sat down in the center of the living room, and invited the box turtle to do the same. It wasn’t odd for Raph or Donnie to go out late at night now without them, but it was odd that Raph would still be out beyond sunrise. It was nearly seven now.

But Mikey was nearly bouncing around from his seat on the floor already, so Casey put the thought aside.

“Ok, so in your own words, the ninpo that allows you to fly is a force that lifts you up. It’s not like it makes you lighter or anything, it’s more like… magnetism,” Casey explained, hoping that made any sense. “The greater force you apply, the higher you’ll go. And if you want to stay up in the air, you gotta make a force that is constantly pushing yourself into the air. So your first objective is to force yourself up into the air without jumping.”

“Without jumping?”

“Without jumping. Ideally, you shouldn’t have to move any part of yourself. You’re only pushing with your ninpo.”

Mikey screwed up his face in thought.

“You alright?” Casey asked, concerned.

“How am I supposed to not do anything?” Mikey asked. “That doesn’t make any sense. I use my hands to extend my chains and to open portals. I draw runes for magic circles…”

“Oh! You’re not doing nothing,” Casey clarified. “You’re moving your ninpo.”

“Moving it?”

“Yeah, like you’d move your arm? You can move it right?”

Mikey looked at Casey like he was speaking a different language. He didn’t even know that? Even Casey could feel his ninpo, even if he couldn’t do anything with it.

“You can move your ninpo like it’s a physical thing,” Casey explained. “It comes from here,” Casey placed his hand over his chest. “And it can shift around you… uh… like water?”

“Like electricity,” came a voice from upstairs. Donnie was hanging over the railing.

“You know what he’s talking about, Donnie?” Mikey asked, inquisitively.

“Of course. I can’t use my ninpo without moving it,” he explained. “Everything I build comes from the inside out. I thought your chains would be made the same way, or Raph’s clone jutsu.”

“Oh! So the projection is physical. That makes sense,” Mikey nodded. “But I don’t really think about that part much. They usually just… kind of happen.”

“You just do things without knowing how they work,” Donnie rolled his eyes.

Mikey smiled sheepishly. “If you put it that way, yeah.”

“Well, if you want to fly, you need to think about how it works,” Casey told him. “Flying is all about control. It’s like riding a skateboard; once you get used to it you don’t have to think about it so much.”

“You know how to skateboard?” Mikey asked.

“No, that’s just how you explained it to me,” Casey sighed. “There weren’t a lot of good places to skateboard in the future. I have no idea what you were talking about, honestly.”

Mikey deflated. Casey saw Donnie sneak into the kitchen. It was coffee time; for a moment Casey mourned the loss of the now spotless kitchen.

“So I need to feel my ninpo…” Casey turned back to Mikey, who was now squeezing his eyes shut in concentration.

Pop!

Mikey’s nunchucks jumped out of thin air and dropped into his lap.

“The force you used to fly didn’t really materialize,” Casey pointed out. Mikey scowled at him.

“Can you move your nunchucks without touching them?”

Mikey opened his eyes and looked down at the weapons in his lap. They didn't seem to move at all, but it looked like he clearly expected them to. 

Instead, they caught on fire.

“Ah!” Casey scrambled back in surprise.

“This is dumb,” Mikey grumbled as the flames quickly dissipated. “How is it supposed to move independently from me?”

“It’s not independent of you, it is you. Like another arm.”

Mikey started wiggling his arms at the chains. 

Oh, this was going to take a looooong time.

Casey leaned back on his hands and watched Mikey fidget for a bit while he turned his attention to the energy inside himself. Like the ghost finger feeling he had when he was a turtle, he could visualize the connection from his brain to his ninpo. He didn’t have a great hold of it, but if he focused, he could feel it… rippling? The most he could do was acknowledge it was there.

“Casey do you have ninpo too?” Casey’s head snapped up, eyes wide. He hadn’t noticed Mikey was watching him.

“What? No. How would I have ninpo?” Mikey narrowed his eyes, but if Mikey couldn’t even feel his own ninpo, he shouldn’t even be able to know Casey had it.

“Then why do you look like you’re trying to find it too?” Oh. Yeah… “Was I trying to teach you how to use it in the future?”

Even on his best days, sometimes Casey was an open book.

“Ok, it’s not a sure thing…” Casey couldn’t help but notice Mikey’s eyes light up. “…and I don’t want to get into the details…” he shrugged. He could tell part of the truth. “You guys are my family, you know? Master Michelangelo thought my mom and I could get it like April did.”

Mikey's shoulders rose and his eyes got big with excitement. “That would be so cool! But does that mean…?”

“I don’t know if I have it,” he lied, shrugging. “Mom never figured it out either. I still try sometimes. It'd be really cool to have.”

“No no no, not that!” Mikey shook his head. “We’re literally family! You’re Hamato just like us! And April! Oh that’s so awesome!”

“Well yeah, I kind of thought that was obvious. I was…” Casey caught himself. “…I grew up around you guys. Why do you think I’m here? You guys are my whole world.”

Casey remembered when Sunshine had caught him in his lie; that he had said his family was dead. Why had he said that? They were right here! It wasn’t exactly the same, but they were still his family, right? He didn’t just want to protect them, he wanted to be a part of them. They were the reason he was here. Seeing Mikey that excited by the idea made Casey want to melt into a little puddle.

“Casey… I think I can see you,” Mikey said, turning his head to one side.

“What do you mean? I’m right here.” He didn’t know why, but he was smiling.

“You’re pink.” That normally would have made Casey freak out, like when Angel pointed it out. But for some reason, it just made him chuckle.

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out,” he cradled his head in his hands and anchored his elbows to his knees.

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew!” Casey told him. Master Michelangelo would never shut up about it.

“But when we went shopping…”

“I’m not going to start wearing pink clothes just because,” Casey shrugged. “That’s a you thing. People don’t just wear their heart on their sleeve all the time.”

“Why would you hide that though?” Mikey asked, looking a little betrayed.

“Same reason I don’t tell you other future stuff. It doesn’t matter until it happens.”

“Yeah but… it’s you.”

“You can’t tell everything about someone from their color, Mikey.”

“Well yeah but…”

“You see me because you know me,” Casey smiled. “That’s more valuable than me just giving you the answer.”

Casey could see the gears spinning in Mikey’s head.

“That’s deep man,” he eventually let out with a sigh.

“How do you see me anyway? Master Michelangelo never really explained it.” He wondered if Angel saw it the same way.

He briefly wondered if she was doing okay.

“It’s like,” Mikey tapped his chin. “Man, I don’t know! That’s probably not good…”

“Is it like looking without your eyes?” Casey guessed. If it was anything like he felt…

“Yeah! That’s it exactly!” Mikey nodded his head excitedly.

“Now just move your chains without your arms,” Casey smirked.

“Ooohhhhh,” he said as if finally understanding (after Casey had only told him it three times). Mikey looked down and noticed his weapons had vanished while he wasn’t paying attention.

They popped back into existence and Mikey stared at them again, but nothing happened.

“This is hard,” he groaned, leaning back onto his hands.

“Yeah, I never got it.”

“Got any other advice?”

“Do you remember learning how to use your hands?” Casey asked him.

“No?”

“Me neither. That’s all I got.”

-

When Donnie came out of the kitchen with his coffee, he saw the two boys lying on their backs, spread eagle in the middle of the floor.

“What are you guys doing?”

“Becoming one with the universe to discover the secrets of Hamato ninpo,” Mikey answered cryptically.

“There’s also a spider spinning a web in that corner,” Casey pointed to the south east corner.

Donnie took a sip of his coffee and shuffled back upstairs.

“April’s coming by in an hour,” he called down.

“Cool,” the dum-dums on the floor both said at the same time.

-

To be honest, Donnie had planned to work on Leo’s katanas all day, but the call from April last night had caught him by surprise. She hadn’t told him much, just that she needed to see him as soon as possible, and it was very important.

So Donnie was up three hours earlier than usual, trying desperately to not look like he’d stayed up all night when April showed up.

“An all-nighter again, Donnie?” Crap. She knew him too well.

“How could you tell?” He asked, blinking too slowly, gripping his coffee mug like it was his lifeline, and struggling to push the lab door open all the way open so April could come inside.

“I have my ways,” she smiled brightly. Then she gave her signature wink and edged past him to crash into a new futon that he’d gotten specifically for situations like these; it was becoming more and more frequent that people would come in just to hang out with him while he was working. Conversation was optional, friendship was not. He was tired of people leaning over his shoulder all the time, so this was the compromise the family was trying out.

“You said this was urgent,” Donnie raised an eyebrow. “You seem pretty relaxed for quote ‘as soon as possible’ end quote.” 

April stretched out on the futon and gave him a cheeky smile. “It is very important. Time sensitive too. Are you free this evening?”

“I have projects I could be working on, but I can make time.”

“Good!” She sat up and pulled out her phone. “I have something that needs looked into. Do you remember the herbicide scandal I uncovered over the summer semester?”

“The stuff you used against the Krang in the subway tunnels, yeah. Are you still…?”

“Professor Boringson’s missing,” April’s expression turned serious. “I’ve been keeping away from the lab just in case, but he’s been taken off the staff directory online. All mentions of him are completely gone. It’s like he didn’t even exist.”

Donnie pursed his lips. That was suspicious.

“Where did he go?”

April shrugged. “I wish I could’ve bugged him like you offered, but the whole department’s been on high alert since I broke in. Something weird is going on there; really weird.”

“So you want me to go check it out?” Donnie surmised.

“Please? I would go but I don’t want to risk getting in trouble with the school…”

“No that’s fine, I get it,” Donnie assured her. “I can get in and out easily."

“Oh, you don’t have to do that… on your own, I mean,” April spoke up. Donnie tipped his head to one side and furrowed his brows in confusion. She had a small smile on her face. “I have a way to get you in.”

Donnie had a feeling her idea wasn’t something he’d like.

“Don’t look at me like that!” she snapped at him.

“What do you mean?” he narrowed his eyes all the more.

April sighed and looked back down at her phone again. “I have a friend who will let you into the building. He’s got a bio lab there tonight.”

“A class on a Saturday night?”

April shrugged. “Yeah, that’s kind of what got me thinking about all this. We’re in a group chat and he was talking about the odd time of it. Turns out there’s a new teacher there taking over for Boringson with some… interesting habits.”

“Like what?” Donnie asked.

“Like… making long unhinged emails to her students about why yokai should return to the ‘underworld.’”

“Yeesh. She sounds like a super villain.”

“Yeah, even Tim thought it was a little strange. So I asked if he could let you into the building tonight after class. The doors lock shortly after the class starts, so I figured he could let you in and you’d be free to snoop without having to break in.”

“His name is Tim?”

“Or Timothy, I’ll send you his contact info. The class should get out at 8:30, he can text you the details.”

Donnie’s phone pinged as she sent him the number.

“And Tim Or Timothy is fine with just letting some stranger into the building? Does he know about…” Donnie gestured to himself. “...this whole situation?”

April gave him that same smile she had when she first walked in. He realized this must be the reason for her good mood. She was plotting something.

“Oh, Tim’s a good guy; I don’t think he’ll mind at all,” she shrugged.

“There’s more to this story, isn’t there?” Donnie asked with suspicion.

But April didn’t let him continue the conversation, because it was at that moment she decided to notice the forge he had put together in the corner of the room. It was huge and difficult to miss, but she gasped and “Ooo what’s that?”-ed to divert his attention.

And let’s be honest here for a moment- what’s more important, figuring out April’s secret agenda or monologuing about his new special interest for the next hour? April was always a good listener; it was an easy decision to make. By the time he had explained every detail of his plans for Leo’s new katanas, he had completely forgotten about her knowing smile. Well, until he showed up to the university in the evening, that is.

-

The Bug

Donnie: Would the east entrance be an acceptable door to use?

Tim Or Timothy (presumably): ?

Donnie: You are April's university friend, yes?

Tim Or Timothy: Oh! You must be Donatello. Yes, the east entrance

Donnie: I will wait there then.

Donnie had arrived at exactly ten minutes before Tim's class was released, and, after confirming where they would meet, had quietly stashed himself up in a tree and out of sight of any on-campus security. It wasn't the most comfortable accommodation, but it did afford him a good vantage point to see students leaving via the adjacent main entrance.

A minute past 8:30 and they began heading out in groups and singles, taking their time to their cars, toward the station, or on foot. All completely oblivious to him.

As he watched them, he felt that pang of otherness settle over him again. It didn't matter that people now knew and somewhat acknowledged that mutants existed, their worlds would still be very different from each other for a long while yet. That included stares longer than his beak, and people awkwardly shuffling away from him when he tried to visit a bodega the other day with his hood down. That had been an uncomfortable situation- but he felt he needed to go out… for science. He wanted to know how people would see him now. That particular collection of data had not calmed him down.

It felt like nothing had changed.

Mikey and Leo had been going out everyday for a week and were fine; surely he was missing something. Or maybe they just handled it better? It felt like they were leaving him behind. Maybe he should have started eleventh grade with Leo instead of diving headfirst into college applications.

He was almost considering it when he noticed a shadow move at the east door. Holding on to the feeling of apprehension, he quickly sent a text to confirm it was Tim at the door.

As if in response, the door opened and a young man with a dark head of messy hair leaned out and looked around. Before the presumed Tim could close the door in confusion, Donnie dropped down out of the tree and landed gracefully upright about ten feet away from him.

"Holy-" but the teen caught himself by throwing a large hand over his mouth. His eyes however, betrayed him as they seemed to bug out of his head in surprise.

Before he could say or do anything else, Donnie stepped up and took the door from him. Technically it didn't matter if it was Tim or not; he was in anyway.

The presumed Tim backed up to let him in, and the soft shell wasted no time entering the building, blinking his eyes as they adjusted to the bright fluorescence.

"Uh, hi." 

Donnie turned his head just slightly toward him. 

"You are Donatello right? I didn't just let some stranger into the school?"

"Yes, and yes you did," Donnie nodded. "Thank you." 

Without another word, Donnie began to slink down the hallway, but he didn't get very far before he realized he was being followed.

"Did you want to risk getting caught sneaking around after hours, too?" Donnie asked, not bothering to turn around.

"I… uh…" Donnie didn't wait for Tim to answer, and turned down a hallway that should lead him to the stairwell up to the second floor.

"Wait!" His ask was too loud. Donnie pivoted and stepped up into Tim's personal space. The surprising maneuver led the human to take a cautious step back. "Sorry… I just…"

Donnie twirled his wrist in a gesture for Tim to get what he wanted to say off his chest.

"April asked me to tag along with you," said the human nervously.

Donnie's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but remembered the odd way April had been acting earlier today.

"And why on earth would you agree to do that?" Donnie asked, genuinely curious. Surely April had told Tim what they were doing could be dangerous. What was he going to do that would help Donnie anyway? He only needed to get inside.

Tim shifted uneasily from one foot to the next, clearly nervous. "She didn't tell you anything, did she?"

"She said you'd let me in," Donnie answered.

Tim sighed and pulled out his phone, clearly looking for something to explain away his impulsiveness to follow a strange mutant turtle around a school after dark.

Tim finally tapped open an image and showed Donnie the screen. It was an image of the TurtleTank parked by Repo Mantis Salvage; likely from the last time Donnie had visited the place before it was temporarily shut down.

"April said you built it. She said you'd let me take a look at it if I kept an eye on you."

"What?!" This time Donnie was too loud. "That's ridiculous! Why would she say that? My own sister, handing out tours of my…" Donnie dragged his hands down his face in frustration. 

"I mean, you don't have to, I don't want to be a bother…" Timothy put his phone away, looking apologetic. "She really shouldn't have-"

"No, no, it's fine," Donnie interrupted, trying to sound sincere but definitely coming off as rather irritated. "I'm sure she has her silly reasons. Just be quiet ok?"

"You know everybody's left, right?" Tim tipped his head to one side. "Even the staff and janitors are gone."

"I don't care, I haven't snuck out like this in weeks!" Donnie answered before turning and flipping dramatically into the shadows. He lowered his goggles and scuttled along the wall like a bug until he could peek around the next corner. Tim just casually walked along behind him.

"April also said you'd want to know more about Dr. Aderman," Tim said as they finally reached the stairs to the next level.

"The replacement professor?" Donnie asked as he jumped up to the second floor and perched on the railing as he waited for Tim to jog up to him.

Tim nodded. "I'm not usually one for gossip, but it seems she has a pretty bad reputation around here already. Class was a bit… scary." The human tapped his fingers together nervously.

"April mentioned a bizarre email."

"Yeah. Turns out there's a… another person like you in our class and she's not all too friendly to them."

"Wouldn't that violate school policy?" Donnie asked, turning toward the hallway he remembered April describing to him. At the center of the building there would be a lab with a simple card reader lock he'd need to break.

"Technically there isn't a policy yet," Tim shrugged. "But it really doesn't look great for the school."

Then why was she even here? Even if Donnie didn't feel comfortable around humans, he at least knew that Universities tended to have some of the most inclusive people among them. It went with the territory of being educated, he theorized; a proper scientist should be open to all possibilities. He didn't like the sound of this one.

Donnie approached the classroom April had mentioned, but noticed that even through the glass, it had been completely repurposed from the last time she had been there. They'd probably have to look around some more, but it wouldn't hurt to check here first.

A quick glance at the card reader told him it would easily be broken into with the right magnet strip, but he wondered if it would be better to just disable it altogether so there was no record of the door unlocking in the first place. That was probably the safer option. Systems going briefly offline were more overlooked than suspicious entries.

Donnie could see Tim's eyes light up in wonder as Donnie's little robot arms popped out from the back of his shell and started disabling the card reader. It took everything in himself not to smirk. Even if he was April's friend, he still didn't trust him.

Within ten seconds the door was open, and the two of them slipped inside. Donnie began to move about the lab/office methodically, but Tim stayed back, looking around like a lost puppy.

"So… what are you looking for?" He asked as Donnie chanced by him to open a few cabinet doors that were disappointingly empty.

Donnie's snout twitched as he moved on. "April didn't tell you?"

"She said you were looking for information on Aderman, but her office is back downstairs."

Donnie turned to face Tim with a mildly annoyed look that included his lips firmly pressed into a thin line.

"You couldn't have said that before I broke into the wrong room?"

Tim scratched the back of his head. "You looked like you knew where you were going!" He smiled sheepishly. "I didn't want to stop you."

Regardless, Donnie continued his search around the room, just in case there was anymore evidence of the herbicide.

"There was a particularly dangerous herbicide being kept here a few weeks ago," Donnie explained, rifling through a desk filled with unrelated papers and bars of unused staples. "April discovered it was rather good at damaging the aliens that invaded the city."

"Wha… how did she discover that?" Tim asked, looking concerned.

"Trial and error of course," Donnie smiled, remembering her retelling of her encounter with the sister Krang. "She threw many things at it beforehand. Baseballs proved to not be so effective."

"You mean she fought one of those things?" Tim's eyes were about the size of April's aforementioned baseball.

"She did. She took its eye out with the herbicide. But now we're trying to figure out where it came from, and why someone was making something so dangerous."

"Wow, she's pretty impressive," Timothy noted, seeming to completely overlook the dangerous situation he had volunteered himself for.

Wait, why had he wanted to do this again?

"Why do you have a picture of my tank?" Donnie asked suddenly, catching Tim off guard.

"Oh, well… it's really cool!" the human said with what appeared to be genuine interest. "I just took a picture of it when I went by the salvage yard… ok maybe I took a few…" he suddenly looked a little nervous.

Donnie narrowed his eyes, not that Tim could see with his goggles on.

"Are you stalking me?"

"What?! No! It's just… how do I explain it…" the human tapped his fingers together again. It appeared to be a nervous habit. “I just thought it was really cool…”

"You…" Donnie's voice trailed off as realization struck him. "You're a FAN!" All at once the super secret stealth mission he had before him was thrown to one side as his voice rose in excitement.

"That's why April set me up with you!"

Timothy scratched the back of his head and blushed a bit. "I guess so? You know there's a small online community of people who look for your vehicle around town? They have all kinds of crazy theories as to who you are and what it does."

"What it does?! It does EVERYTHING," Donnie's eyes sparkled. "And if you are so inclined, I will gladly tell you more about it when we find that herbicide," he added, turning his head to do a final sweep of the room.

Tim chuckled, and Donnie nearly jumped in surprise.

"What? Are you not interested?"

"No no, I am!" Tim assured the turtle. "I just didn't expect you to be so excited."

Donnie stood upright and began to walk back out of the office backwards. "Of course I'm excited I-"

But he didn't get to complete his sentence, because in his elated buffoonery he had completely forgotten their circumstances, and bumped clumsily into someone standing behind him.

"Oh, hi… Dr. Aderman…" Timothy squeaked. Donnie saw Tim take a step back in surprise, and that he was looking up at someone much taller than himself.

Slowly, Donnie turned around. Sweet Galileo she was HUGE. If he had to guess, Dr. Aderman was six foot six and two hundred fifty pounds of pure muscle. She had flaming red hair braided down either side of her head, bright green spectacles, and a nasty snarl on her face. She looked like she could easily wrestle Raph, nevermind the small, gangly soft shell that Donnie was. In the words of his most beloved twin brother:

“Eugh boy.”

Donnie skittered back into the classroom and jumped over a table to put more space between them. Aderman followed him into the classroom, shutting the door behind her. That was surely a threat if he had ever seen one.

“Well this sure is a surprise,” Aderman giggled, taking a step forward. “I can’t believe you just decided to find me yourself!”

“Please tell me that you aren’t implying that you know me,” Donnie grimaced.

“Hardly, but it’s hard to forget four little freaks defiling the light of God.”

Oh, so she was a religious nut too. Cool. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“I’m going to finally cut you open and get a good look at what goes on in that disgusting little head of yours.”

Donnie had a hard time figuring out how the two statements were related.

“As much as I love research,” Donnie took a nervous step back. “I’m totally fine keeping my insides inside, thanks oh god I really don’t want to think about that…”

“Just what are you, exactly? What made you?” she wondered aloud, lowering her head to get a better view of him in the dark room. If he had listened to anything April and Tim had said, he figured it was not in his best interest to answer that question honestly. Speaking of, he glanced over to Tim and saw that the poor guy had backed himself up into a corner on the opposite side of the room. Donnie immediately regretted letting the human tag along with him. The last thing he wanted to do was drag more people into this mess. How was he supposed to get them out?

As he continued to try and put distance between himself and the woman, Donnie quickly realized he was running out of classroom. He glanced over at the second story windows to his right. He could easily break out that way, but Tim?

“You tricked me!” Donnie blurted out, pointing an accusatory finger at Tim.

“What?” Both Tim and Aderman looked confused.

“You set me up with your smooth talking about science and engineering!” Donnie wailed. “How could you?! Humans are the worst!” He raised his hand to his brow in a mock swoon.

He really needed to take some acting lessons. Simply imitating Leo’s dramatic flourishes probably wasn’t the greatest sell. But it didn’t matter because at the very least it made Aderman do a double take to glance at Tim before Donnie leapt for and broke through the window screaming at the top of his lungs: “You’ll never get me aliiiiiiiiiive!”

Unfortunately for him, but fortunately for Tim, he supposed, Aderman dove out the window behind him with greater speed than he expected.

“Get back here you filthy little bug!” she roared, grabbing a hold of his ankle as they went tumbling out. He realized then that his battle shell was still in robot arm mode, so his jet pack was not ready to lift him up. He had prioritized stealth this evening, but thinking back on how loud he had been talking about his tank, perhaps he hadn’t, actually. Stupid stupid stupid.

Raph was really going to chew him out for this.

And Leo would never let him live it down.

The two of them crashed into the ground, Donnie thrown face-first into the dirt, no thanks to Aderman’s desperate reach. He let out a pathetic little puff of air from his lungs, but forced himself to his feet quickly as he could already hear Aderman lumbering up to him.

“Stupid little…” she grumbled and took a swing at him, but Donnie was ready for it. His sparkling new tech bo was already out and spinning, the glow of purple mystic light from it forming a shield between himself and his assailant. It hadn’t fared so well against Krang Prime, but a punch from a human (even an especially large one,) did not stand a chance. Aderman’s fist collided with the shield with a sickening crunch.

She screamed in pain, swearing profusely and shaking her hand out as Donnie took the offensive. He decided to go for a low sweep, knocking his staff into her knees and toppling her over. Unfortunately, it seemed her grubby hands had a habit of clinging onto things, because she was again somehow able to reach out and grab him as she went down, dragging him with her. The soft shell yelped as the woman bear-hugged him while at same time cursing about how awful and gross he was. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but think she was being a little over dramatic about that, but he wasn’t really in a position to critique. She rolled over and pinned him down with just her left hand on his head, his arms pinned under him.

“You disgusting little turtle thing-” but she froze when she saw the ring of purple mystic artillery surrounding her, all aimed pointedly at her head.

“You wanna rethink those words, sasquatch?” Donnie grumbled, spitting out dirt.

To his surprise, the doctor started cackling. “You’re full of nasty surprises, aren’t you?” She raised his head in a move to slam it down again, which Donnie took as permission to use what would questionably be considered semi-lethal force.

But when he pulled the trigger, so to speak, nothing happened. Instead of throwing him back down, she pulled her face to his and smiled wickedly. “Oh honey, did you think I’d be caught by that? Unfortunately, I have a few nasty surprises of my own.” All of his mystic tech had somehow vanished, and when he tried to reach for it again, he could see dazzling purple static dance around in Aderman’s eyes. It was the last thing he saw before he ate the dirt again.

------

Saturday Morning Sillies Comic

Prev. Masterpost Next

Notes: Thank you so much to @pinetreevillain for letting me borrow Timothy for this chapter of my fic! Here he is! I'm internally screaming, it's very loud inside my head rn. This has been marinating for over two months, so I hope you like it! I kept my promise; Timothy is fine! Donnie on the other hand, is not. oops (T-T)7

Additionally, this chapter has a comic to alongside it that I posted all the way back in September, heehee! It's so important that I linked it twice. Bet you didn't see that coming did you? I'm very sneaky.

This also marks the beginning of "shit hitting the fan" part of the story for Snapper and Stinkpot. We are officially out of the exposition, baby!

[strings0fcontrol]

Hannigram – Post-Fall (8)

Words proved inadequate to contain Will's torment, and his tongue faltered, yielding only a feeble whimper. Graham's cheek still throbbed from the lingering pain of his earlier outburst, and every spoken word tugged at the stitches binding his wounds. As he contemplated speaking, the full extent of his agony became painfully evident.

The memory of the last time he had heard her voice haunted him. He had questioned whether it was all a dream, and that inquiry had shredded the very fabric of his reality.

Should he dare pose the same question once more? Was he prepared to court the same madness?

Would it spiral into an endless loop, growing ever more surreal, even though a semblance of clarity seemed within reach?

The exhaustion of his helplessness weighed heavily on him, as he languished in this bewildering place where nothing seemed to make sense. The madness was singing to him.

"Nothing," Will exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. He could almost envision the subtle tilt of her head, a mannerism so reminiscent of Hannibal's when he harbored doubts.

"Well," Bedelia began, her words measured and deliberate, "Now, I know you're not being entirely truthful with me."

His silence had stretched on for so long that the palpable presence of his fear and bewilderment hung in the air, undeniable and looming. It was a reality she couldn't simply ignore, unlike him, who might wish it away. But he remained silent and made no answer. Again the high priest asked him, 'Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?' (Mark 14:61)

"What occupies your thoughts, Will?" Bedelia inquired, her tone measured and collected.

Will sensed a distorted glimmer of salvation within her voice, as if she possessed an answer just beyond his grasp, if only he formulated the right question. The pregnant pause that swelled before it tightened its grip on his heart, leaving him once more breathless.

He exhaled, his eyes leisurely traversing the room, scrutinizing the furniture, figurines, photographs, the couch, and the windows. The conspicuous absence of clocks in the room drew his attention, prompting him to glance at his naked wrist and then his phone. It was an older digital model, resting on a battery station without a cord, lacking the convenience of a smartphone. It, too, remained silent on the matter of time. This could either be another mundane coincidence or a peculiar detail warranting his keen observation. The passage of time remained an enigma in this space, its behavior a mystery. Day and night unfolded, yet there was an imperceptible strangeness to their rhythm, a subtle aberration that eluded easy definition.

Within the confines of his mind, a sound persisted, steadily growing louder with each passing moment of silence.

"I believe Hannibal is en route for you," Will finally admitted, the notion emerging from the tumultuous voices suddenly reverberating within his thoughts. It evolved into a steadily crescendoing chorus, culminating in a crystalline, irrefutable pitch.

A scoff, almost audible, emanated from the other end of the phone, accompanied by the clatter of her fork.

"Well, you do have an uncanny talent for ruining my appetite with your knack for stating the obvious," Du Maurier interjected dryly. Certainly, Hannibal, and most likely Will as well, would come for her. This notion had already been firmly established.

She reclined in her chair, languid and contemplative, the soft glow of lamplight casting elongated shadows across her face. Her tongue danced delicately along the contours of her cheek, a curious serpent probing the inner recesses of her thoughts.

Why, indeed, had he chosen to bring it to her attention?

"No, Bedelia," Will pressed urgently, her first name slipping from his lips like a forbidden secret, "he's coming for you. You need to run," he hissed, as if the impending transformation loomed just beneath the surface, a man teetering on the brink of a sinister metamorphosis. His voice oozed with an ominous darkness that sent shivers coursing through her very soul.

What unsettled her the most was the sudden, unwavering certainty in his tone, as if it were a foregone conclusion. Indeed, it felt inevitable; Hannibal was a man of his word. Yet, the timing seemed oddly askew, like a picture hanging crookedly on the wall that, from a peculiar angle, oddly made sense.

Will's anxiety surged, and in a familiar synchrony, the phantom chime of a doorbell echoed through the phone. He could almost envision Du Maurier turning in her chair to face the door.

The certainty sliced through the moment like a knife. "Bedelia, I implore you," he whispered, "Don't—"

"Just a moment, Will. I shall return presently," Du Maurier's words carried a note of caution, and he could sense both the hesitancy in her tone and the inquisitiveness in her measured steps. 

As she set the phone down, a small voice whispered in his mind: ‘She won't.’

If this were indeed Hannibal, there would be nowhere for her to flee, and she understood that well. Attempting escape was futile, for an angel could never flee from the wrath of God.

'Through the wrath of the Lord of hosts the land is scorched, and the people are like fuel for the fire; no one spares another. They slice meat on the right, but are still hungry, and they devour on the left, but are not satisfied; each devours the flesh of his own arm.' (Isaiah 9:19-20)

If Hannibal sought Will, he hungered for something more than mere sustenance. A famished lion was a creature of unpredictable impulses.

Will stood immobilized, his breath held captive, speech stifled as if an invisible vice clutched his throat, squeezing the life from him. The world around him whirled in a frenetic maelstrom, akin to an enraged swarm of wasps. He could sense Hannibal enveloping him, his presence palpable in the very air he breathed, the taste of him lingering on the edges of his senses. As he clung to the phone, his lifeline to sanity, he heard it—the dark voice, a distant shadow but undeniably distinct, washing over his senses like rich, melting dark chocolate. “Hello, Bedelia.” He strained to discern the nature of the sounds, their exact boundaries eluding him. They constituted the final auditory vestiges before the line abruptly disconnected, and his breath escaped in high-pitched gasps, struggling to sustain the remnants of his shattered self. Will teetered on the brink of hyperventilation, his muscles betraying his control, the icy tendrils of panic coiling around his senses. In the swirling chaos, distinctions blurred, leaving him dissociated and disconnected, where everything seemed to both vibrate and stand still in a disorienting paradox. He played the sound over in his mind several times, as if he needed to reassure himself that it was indeed the reality he was perceiving, and not some cruel jest aimed at shattering his sanity.

"No. No, no, come on," Will growled, his frustration boiling over as he shook the phone. Then, he screamed. "HANNIBAL!" And once more, until he savored the metallic tang of blood in his throat, his own ears ringing with the shattering crescendo of tearing stitches. “HANNIBAL!” Desperately, he unleashed the full force of his lungs, as if beseeching a merciless deity to hear him at last. Will’s screams echoed through the void, a chaotic plea, but all they yielded was more silence.

‘Answer me quickly, O Lord! My spirit fails! Hide not your face from me, lest I be like those who go down to the pit. Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust. Make me know the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.’ (Psalm 143:7-9)

The heavens remained unmoved, regardless of how long he persisted in his anguished screams, wearing down the very instrument of his voice.

‘Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord! O Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy!’ (Psalm 130:1-2)

Screams echoing into an abyss of terror.

'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning?’ (Psalm 22:1)

Until his voice grew faint and searing, a burning ember in his throat.

‘I am weary with my crying out; my throat is parched. My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God.’ (Psalm 69:3)

Voice spent, he could only convulse in agony, rocking back and forth, clutching the phone with white-knuckled intensity. His fingers frantically redialed the number again and again until they grew numb and eventually sore.

It no longer even rang; the line had vanished into silence.

He found himself alone once more, forsaken in the horrific void. Each time he dared to claw his way out, it felt as though he courted punishment. He felt like he was clawing against the interior of a glass cage, trapped amidst endless mirrors. All the while, he pleaded for someone on the outside to see him and swing open the door to freedom.

Blood spilled, and with each droplet spent, Hannibal believed he was edging ever closer to the answers he sought. What greater sacrifice could he offer than an angel? This prompted him to proceed with utmost caution, taking measured steps to ensure absolute precision. Starting with the legs. He wanted to calculate the exact cost of Will’s soul in angel parts.

It was a small gamble with fate, one that Hannibal had ventured into without fully grasping the steep price of his impatience. Blissfully ignorant, he meticulously set the scene. Bedelia, dressed, occupied one end of the table, her countenance quivering with the foreknowledge of the impending ordeal, her drowsy gaze fixing upon the unsettling feast before her. The room seemed to spin, but amid the disorientation, one element remained vividly clear—the gleaming fork. She extended a desperate hand toward it, her final, futile attempt to ward off the encroaching insanity that threatened to devour her.

The three plates were set, but only one participant had taken their place thus far. A grotesque dish, a delicate balance: 29 percent cooked, 71 percent so raw—it offered a macabre opportunity for her to dine again. Certainly, Hannibal intended to indulge in the exquisite art of savoring every delectable morsel. As a lover, she had failed him, unable to replace Will, and the bitter taste of that failure lingered like a sting on her tongue.

‘I slept, but my heart was awake. A sound! My beloved is knocking. 'Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one, for my head is wet with dew, my locks with the drops of the night.' I had put off my garment; how could I put it on? I had bathed my feet; how could I soil them? My beloved put his hand to the latch, and my heart was thrilled within me. I arose to open to my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh, on the handles of the bolt. I opened to my beloved, but my beloved had turned and gone. My soul failed me when he spoke. I sought him, but found him not; I called him, but he gave no answer.’ (Solomon 5:2-7)

Yet, he found a way to astonish even Bedelia. As Will was wheeled in, a peculiar IV fluid drew her intrigued gaze. Her eyes narrowed in thought. The second plate was evidently not intended for him; clearly, he couldn't partake in the meal. The question lingered: was he even still alive? Her eyes traced a path up and down his deathly pale figure as the wheelchair came to a halt on Hannibal's left side. Meanwhile, the handmaiden assumed the position she might have expected Will to occupy, settling between them like the final bastion of sanity.

The lamb was absent. 

This wasn't how she had anticipated events unfolding. Even in her drugged state, following whatever concoction Hannibal had administered, a surreal quality hung over her surroundings. An unsettling unease pervaded her senses. Her thoughts moved sluggishly, each inch of progress an arduous effort, as if her mind strained to bridge the gap toward that elusive understanding of what felt so profoundly amiss.

Hannibal assumed his customary commanding presence behind the chair, a role he had played countless times before. His lips moved with an air of pride, undoubtedly delivering an elaborate introduction to the dish he was about to subject her to. However, his words seemed like a garbled cocktail, a nonsensical mixture that defied comprehension.

Nonetheless, she could discern with a chilling clarity the meal set before them, and though fear coursed through her, an eerie numbness suddenly overtook her senses.

Just moments ago, she could have sworn she had been engaged in a phone conversation with someone. Her gaze remained fixated on Will, seemingly entrapped by his presence. She was so thoroughly immobilized by the moment that she missed the opportune instant to wield the fork and carry out her meticulously devised plan to stab him, when he set the dish down for her. Bedelia's fixation rivaled the obsessive attention Hannibal was lavishing on his captive.

Even Lecter, accustomed to unsettling situations, found himself disconcerted by the intensity of her stare. It appeared as though she had been deliberately oblivious to everything that had transpired since his introduction, from the dish placed before her to his initial comment as he took his seat and began to eat. The latter had garnered no response whatsoever from her. It was as if Bedelia held knowledge that terrified her more than the prospect of dining at this table, facing the very act of self-consumption.

His head tilted ever so slowly, dark eyes narrowing as if he anticipated an answer to manifest before him.

"What’s going through your beautiful head, Bedelia?" Hannibal inquired at last, lifting a morsel to his lips.

"Evidently, I am," she shot back, her retort a verbal lash that seemed to catch Lecter off guard. It had been an eternity since laughter had stirred within him. Yet, he remained composed, a master of elegant restraint, concealing the brief flicker of amusement that had danced across his face.

The fork paused, as though contemplating its sinister purpose, before descending upon the morsel. With each deliberate, measured chew, his eyes remained locked onto Bedelia's, a sinister delight flickering in their depths.

"You taste delicious, Bedelia," Hannibal purred, his voice a velvet blend of charm and menace. 

Du Maurier inhaled sharply, bitterness lingering in the air, as she reached out with her fork to pick at the meat. She lifted a piece of the dish and chewed on it with a hint of defiance, a subtle act of rebellion against the taunt.

Bedelia refused to play a part in his twisted narrative of a happy ending. There was no way she would swallow any part of this gruesome charade. With eyes as brilliant as her golden hair, she expelled the contents of her mouth, splattering them across the table and directly onto Lecter's plate. What greater act of defiance against God than to challenge Him at her very own table? She keenly observed the millimeter of retraction in his lower arm, the subtle twitch that surely stirred surprise and irritation within him. Even Chiyoh, positioned at her side, instinctively leaned back, as if seeking to distance herself from the impending explosion that was about to unfold.

Poking a dragon was to court death, but the audacity to poke God – what cataclysmic reckoning would that invoke?

A sly smirk etched itself upon her lips under the unrelenting weight of his gaze, and she could practically taste the tangible aura of his insatiable bloodlust.

"Oh, what could possibly ail you, Hannibal? Is your meticulously constructed world unraveling because one of your wee  piglets   refuses to comply?" Her gaze flickered toward Will, a disdainful assessment etched upon her face. Each word she uttered was a venomous dart, intended to goad Hannibal further into his seething rage.

Though she avoided locking eyes with Hannibal, the inscrutable mask he wore hiding his true emotions, she could feel the last remnants of her breath escape her as his fork gently clinked against the plate. It was but a fleeting moment before she sensed the heat of his hands on her neck. His movement had been a lightning strike, but it represented the only opportunity she could hope for, a momentary advantage to catch him off guard and drive the fork into his thigh. Yet, there was no force behind his grip; his hands were strangely gentle, while his eyes bore into her from above with an awareness that defied easy characterization—it was more than merely ‘frightening.’

"What tidings does my angel bear?" His voice, akin to a siren's seduction, eroded her dwindling resolve. It flowed with such silkiness, a masterful control devoid of any trace of anger. Her eyelids betrayed her, fluttering as if she teetered on the brink of swooning.

In the narrative she had hoped for, he would have yielded to impulsivity, snapping her neck, twisting it, freeing her from this never-ending nightmare. Yet, in stark contrast, here he stood—the Morningstar himself—staring down at her with such intense resolve that even death seemed to recoil in his presence. Tears welled in her eyes, glistening like precious pearls, and her lips began to quiver and contort into uncontrollable shapes of helplessness.

What could drive a wrathful angel to such despair that it would weep in the presence of a merciful god?

"The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?" Hannibal invoked Jeremiah 17:9, and Bedelia faltered, her fingers digging into the seat's edge to steady herself. One solitary verse, and it was as though her heart had been mercilessly crushed.

His thumbs traced deliberate, ominous circles around her cheeks, smearing her tears into her foundation. Each stroke bore a distinct quality—some gentle, others impatient, some light, and others unsettling. He was contemplating, and her time was rapidly running out.

Amidst the prevailing sense of futility and pointlessness, his eyes snagged on a subtle movement in his peripheral vision. The clink of Chiyoh's fork against the plate resonated, as if she too had been jolted by what she had witnessed. When his gaze descended, he discerned Bedelia's terror, frozen in place within the same room, her eyes locked onto a single point. Had his scheme already borne fruit?

[coffeecat1983]

Mario Bros: Connected pt 1. (Mario Movieverse fanfic)

   Time: November 2001.    Beeps and blips filled the living room of the little basement apartment, along with clicking of buttons. Arthur sat cross-legged on the floor with Mario in his lap, the little one happily slapping away at a disconnected controller as his uncle played with the connected one. The floor was covered in blankets and toys. The twins were babysitting their nephews for the weekend to give Marianna and Giovanni a break.    Mario babbled at the TV as Arthur took out a group of enemies.      "You tell em, kid!" he laughed. Mario looked towards the kitchen as a new sound drifted towards him. Arthur paused the game as Mario reached towards the doorway, his little fingers opening and closing.      "Umm BAH!" he squeaked. Arthur lifted him and stood, quiet as he approached the kitchen. The source of the new sound quickly became clear.    Tony danced around the kitchen, headphones over his ears and Luigi in his arms. The cord led down to a music player hidden in his jeans pocket. As he danced, he sang along to the tune he was listening to. Luigi meanwhile was giggling and watching him with a look of joy on his little face.    Arthur stayed in the doorway, watching them with a smile. Mario cuddled against his chest, listening to the singing. Unable to help himself, Arthur joined in on the chorus. Tony was startled but kept the tune, finishing it with his twin. As he pulled off his headphones and dropped them on the counter away from Luigi's reach, Arthur chuckled.      "Bee Gees? Really, bro?"      "What? Alone is a good song! I could have picked Champagne Supernova."    Arthur laughed harder. "And have Luigi's first words be 'we were getting high'? Marianna would kill you. Dinner almost done?"    Tony glanced at the timer. "Not much longer. You wanna pick out a movie?"    Arthur hummed and gave a nod, taking Mario back to the living room. Gently running his fingers through Luigi's dark brown hair, Tony began humming Alone. "Whadda ya think, kiddo? Should that be our special song?" he said softly. Luigi just smiled at him.      A little later found the twins on the couch, a movie on low as the baby Bros slept on a blanket nearby.      "What do you think they'll be like when they're older?" Tony said, watching them sleep as the movie came to an end. Arthur hummed.      "Crazy, like us." he finally said. Tony snickered, rolling his eyes.      "Be serious!"    His younger twin looked thoughtful. "Luigi's gonna be like you somehow. Gonna keep Mario balanced, I think."      "Mario's gonna be feisty like you, I bet. Got that protective nature already." Taking off his glasses, Tony rubbed at his head. "Just hope Gio's a bit easier on em."      "Yeah." Arthur looked over at him. "Headache?"      "Headache and a little dizzy." Tony put his glasses back on. "Happens once in a while."    He was startled at a tugging on his leg. Luigi had woken up and toddling over, was reaching up towards him. Tony picked him up and Luigi snuggled against him, clutching his purple tee.      "Heh, you know when I don't feel right, don't you, kiddo?" Settling in, the little one stuck his thumb in his mouth, drifting off as he listened to his uncle's heartbeat.

Year: 2014    It was Sunday evening, and the family was relaxing after dinner. Giovanni and Arthur were talking about work, Mario had escaped to the Bros' room to play video games. Luigi had stayed at the table. He seemed to be listening in on his dad and uncle, but in reality, he was keeping an eye on Tony. The older twin had been oddly quiet during dinner and hadn't eaten much. Luigi kept feeling a familiar sense of unease.    After just a few minutes, Tony excused himself, heading for the living room. He reclined on the couch, hand to his head as he shut his eyes.

   In the kitchen at the little table, Marianna and Marie chatted. Both were surprised when Luigi came in and got into the cabinets, pulling out a box of teabags and a mug.      "Ginger tea? Are you okay, sweetheart?" Marianna asked as her son filled the mug with water and headed for the microwave.      "Yeah, it's not for me." Luigi said, watching the mug turn. Behind him, Arthur had gotten up and gone in the living room. As the microwave beeped, he came back in the kitchen.      "Hey Mar, you got any-"      "I got it, Uncle Art." Luigi said, dropping the teabag into the mug. He grabbed a spoon and two packets of sugar before heading for the living room. Arthur stared after him.      "How the heck, Tony didn't ask him for that, right?"    Marianna just shook her head, as confused as he was.

   Luigi slowly walked into the living room, careful to not spill any of the steaming liquid. Salvatore gave him a nod of approval as he placed it on the table beside the couch.      "Uncle Tony?" Luigi said softly. Tony cracked open an eye and then sat up, giving him a smile.      "Hey kiddo."      "I brought you some tea." Luigi said, sitting beside him.      "Thanks, Arthur ask you to bring it?"    Luigi shook his head. "I was making it before you asked him. I knew you needed it." Tony paused in stirring in the sugar. "You knew?" The 15-year-old nodded. "You weren't feeling good at dinner, either."    Sipping at the tea, Tony sighed. "Kiddo, you never cease to amaze me, you know that?" He cringed, rubbing at his head again. "Stupid headaches." he muttered.      "You really should see a doctor about those." Salvatore spoke up. Tony groaned.      "He did, Papa, three times just this year." Arthur said from the living room doorway. "They never find anything."    Leaning back, Tony closed his eyes. "They always blame my eyesight but say my glasses should help." He smiled faintly, wrapping his arm around Luigi's shoulders as his nephew leaned into him.      "How did you know about the tea?" he asked softly. Luigi snuggled close.      "I donno, just did."

Time: Late August 2023, after the Bros move to the Mushroom Kingdom...

   Mario landed neatly on his feet outside of the Brooklyn warp pipe. Luigi meanwhile came crashing out with a yell, the toolbox spilling as he landed. He rubbed his head as he sat up.      "I don't think I'll ever get the hang of that," he muttered. Mario laughed and helped him up before they both began to pick up the tools.      "You'll get it someday, Lu, and once you do it'll be easy."    Luigi shouldered the toolbox and paused, an odd look on his face. Mario put a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"      "Yeah, just, I donno something felt off for a second." His phone pinged and he checked it. The alert that it was time for a job was flashing. "It's probably nothing. We gotta get going!"    As the bros reached the street and headed for their first job, Luigi paused again, looking in the direction of the family's apartment building. An odd feeling crept over him. Shaking it off, he broke into a run to catch up with his brother.

   At the apartments, Arthur stretched as he exited his little home office and went into the kitchen. Glancing at the clock he noted the time.      "Two-thirty, the boys should be here for work by now." he muttered, reaching for the coffeepot. He looked at the door at the sound of soft footsteps. Tony came in, dressed still in his nightclothes. Dark circles were under his eyes.      "What happened to you?" Arthur asked, "Hangover?"      "Very funny," Tony grumbled. "This headache won't quit, I feel awful."    Arthur grew concerned as Tony rushed over to the sink. Thinking his brother was going to be sick, he grabbed a dishtowel and came over. Tony had a hand up to his nose and when he pulled it away, crimson dripped down his fingers into the drain. "Nosebleeds, too." he said. "I think I ruined my pillow last night."      "I'll run out in a bit and get you a new one." Arthur said. "C'mon, you need to sit and tip your head back or somethin'."

     "Wrench?" Mario held his hand out. There was no reply and he glanced out from under the kitchen sink. "Lu, you okay?"      "Huh? Oh! Sorry," Luigi dug in the tools and handed him the wrench. Mario took it and tightened up the pipe. As he worked, he heard Luigi begin to hum. Something about the tune was faintly familiar, but Mario couldn't place it. After he finished with the loose pipe, he crawled out and got up. "What song is that, Lu?" he asked, dusting himself off.      "I, I don't know. It's been in my head all day." Finishing up with the customer, the Bros went outside. "Next job's not too far from here, you okay to walk?" Mario said.      "Y-Yeah, I'm fine." Luigi was staring off towards their home apartment again. Mario playfully tapped his head.      "Ey, earth to Lu! What's got you in la la land today?" Luigi's shoulders slumped. "Sorry bro, just, I donno." He looked at Mario. "Something just feels wrong."      "Hmm, well maybe seeing everyone at dinner tonight will help." Mario smiled. "A little of Ma's cooking never hurts, either." His younger brother let out a laugh. "Yeah, maybe."    The two went on to the next job and Luigi was careful to focus and help out, the job a shower that was clogging up no matter what the customer tried. He began humming again as they worked, the same melody as before.      "Huh, haven't heard that song in years!" Their customer stopped in the doorway.      "You know it? I can't remember what it is." Luigi said.    The customer nodded. "Yeah, came out about ninety-seven or so? It's Alone by the Bee Gees." They walked away, singing the lyrics. Luigi paused, a faint, blurry memory in the back of his mind.    Holding on to a purple cloth, soft under his little fingers. Warmth and comfort surrounded him as he heard someone sing to him.      "Our song." he muttered.    A little later, they stood on the front porch as Mario finished up the details. Luigi felt tense and began fidgeting, staring off in the distance again. Panic hit him hard and fast.      "M-Mario?" he called out, his chest growing tight. Mario started down the stairs.      "Right behind ya, Lu-" he stopped when he saw the terrified look Luigi gave him.      "We need to go! Now!" Luigi bolted, running faster than Mario had ever seen. He was heading towards the apartment. Without a word, Mario ran after him.

   They arrived, both out of breath, as an ambulance was pulling away from the front of their childhood home.      "Ma!" Mario called out. Their parents were on the sidewalk, Marianna looked scared and Giovanni was digging in his pocket for his keys. The Bros made it across the street.      "W-Was that Papa Sal?" Mario gasped out. Marianna shook her head, tears in her eyes.      "It was-"      "Uncle Tony." Luigi finished softly. Pulling out his keys, Giovanni kissed Marianna's cheek then turned to the bros.      "I'm heading to the hospital; your Uncle Arthur is with him now. I'll call you as soon as we hear anything." he explained. Mario took off his hat, feeling lost. "Ma, what's going on?"    Marianna gathered her boys in her arms, hugging them both. "Let's go upstairs and talk." Once upstairs, they gathered in the little living room where Salvatore, Marie, and Bria were. As the bros sat on the couch, Bria got up from the floor and sat beside Mario, hugging his arm.      "What on earth happened?" Mario asked.      "It was scary." Bria said softly. Mario pulled his arm loose and put it around her.    Marie spoke up. "Tony's been having those headaches again and it's been getting worse. He started with nosebleeds last night, and then today..."

   Arthur paused, a sting nagging at the base of his skull. It grew stronger and he heard the crash of a coffee mug shattering in the kitchen.      "A-Art!" came the fearful cry.      "Tony?" he got up and went in to see his older brother shaking, his favorite mug in pieces on the floor. He was clutching at his head as blood dripped off his mustache and down his mouth. Taking a step forward, Tony collapsed. Marie and Bria ran in when they heard Arthur begging his brother to wake up.

   Giovanni entered the small room in the ER of Eastern General hospital. The bed was gone. Arthur jumped up from his seat, he was shaking slightly as his older brother hugged him.      "Where is he?" Giovanni asked as they sat back down.      "They um, they rushed him off for tests, brain scans and stuff." Arthur ran his fingers nervously through his hair before holding his hands out. "Feels weird, like I should be holding his Walkman about now." Tears stung his eyes. "God, Gio, I can't do this, I can't-"    Giovanni held up a hand. "Stop right there. Don't think about it that way, wait until we hear from the doctor."      "Right," Arthur said softly, folding his arms, "you're right." The room grew quiet, the only sounds that of the hospital past the sliding glass doors.      "Does Tony still have his Walkman?" Giovanni asked. Arthur gave a nod. "And his portable CD player, and most of his music, too." Both were startled at a tap and the door sliding open.

   Back at the apartment, the only sound was that of the TV. Salvatore had turned it on as a distraction, but it wasn't working. Luigi was staring at the floor, his leg bouncing nervously. Mario meanwhile was watching silly videos with Bria on her phone, trying to keep her from worrying. In the kitchen, Marianna was prepping coffee for everyone, and she nearly dropped the carafe as Marie's phone went off. Marie quickly answered.      "Art?! Babe, what's going on?"    Having heard, Salvatore clicked off the TV and the whole family grew quiet. Marianna's heart sank as she saw her sister-in-law uttered a low "Oh, God."      "Ma?" Luigi came in, looking scared. Putting her arm out, Marianna urged him over and held him, rubbing his back as they listened in.      "For how long? Okay, I'll get that right now and bring it up. No, it's not a problem." Marie said into the phone. "Love you, too." Hanging up, she let out a shuddering sigh as she stood. "Living room." she said. Marianna and Luigi followed her in, taking their seats.      "What is it, Marie?" Marianna asked gently.    Marie hesitated. "They found a brain tumor." she said softly. "They're going in for emergency surgery first thing in the morning."

To be continued....

[troglobite]

alskdjf

v fun not realizing exactly how much my back wore me out yesterday and continues to wear me out today

until a candle basically causes a meltdown

i'm literally still shaky. i managed to blow dry my hair brush my teeth and do everything else i needed to do and now i'm dry and in pajamas etc

but i need to eat even though i feel sick

and i can't go out there bc if i do i'll have to do it while wearing a mask

and if my mom sees me wearing a mask she'll just get more upset

so i have to sit in my fucking room w nothing to eat feeling tired awful shaky and sick

and not being able to do anything abt it, including just wanting to sit on the couch to help my back feel better

bc my mom's in a bad mood

and bc we live in fucking Nothing Square Feet

it's literally inescapable

i'm so glad that this all started literally just bc my fucking aunt couldn't be fucked to check where the power cords connect on my grama's recliner so they had to call my mom like the chair stopped working :((( and in those 25 mins of clarifying to them that there is also a power BOX under the chair that has to be plugged in and that was all that was wrong, which happened LITERALLY ALMOST SIX HOURS AGO NOW, my mom is just in a horrible fucking mood

and bc we don't have any fucking space or sanctuary in this godforsaken fucking house

there's nowhere for me to run and hide

i can hear EVERYTHING on the tv loud and clear

can't leave to get my headphones from the other room bc she might see me wearing a mask

can't go out and sit w her bc again, mask

and then she'll ALSO get mad at me bc she'll want to watch something that "[i] won't want to watch so [she has] to change it" even though she literally doesn't and idgaf

and i can't go sit anywhere else in the house bc the only place w remotely ANY back support for me is my own bed and the couch and the couch is off limits

and i'm just fucking at my breaking point

what's more is she left the fucking candle on yesterday too

i just.

why.

fucking WHY.

i'm so tired.

and this house is SO FUCKING STUPID.

her bedroom and bathroom will kinda smell like the candle, yeah, but then LITERALLY EVERYWHERE ELSE IN THE HOUSE WILL SMELL INTOLERABLY LIKE THE CANDLE

INESCAPABLY LIKE THE FUCKING CANDLE

AND WILL SMELL LIKE THAT FOR FUCKING HOURS

i'm so fucking tired

i hate this fucking house i hate it here i can't fucking stand living here anymore bc i can't fucking stand having to be the fucking target of all of her ire and her fucking punching bag when she doesn't want to fucking do anything to help her process feeling that way

FUCK THERAPY

FUCK COUNSELING

FUCK ANYTHING ELSE HELPFUL OR PRODUCTIVE

JUST TAKE IT OUT ON YOUR DISABLED AND CHRONICALLY ILL KID WHO BASICALLY WISHES THEY WEREN'T EVEN ALIVE HALF THE FUCKING TIME JUST BC THAT'D BE EASIER!!!

caveat that i'm FINE it's too much energy and too many consequences to Actually Fucking Dying it's a passive "would be nice if i ceased to exist and was erased from all memories" once again bc i can't fucking escape ANYTHING

and when i can't escape and i'm just spiraling towards meltdown i just want to fucking die and i can't take this anymore

[rin-the-cat]

So I finally cleaned out from behind and around my recliner found (among other things) the power cord for my lamp... So why am I now sitting on the couch squinting at my jewelry project while the 4 year sits in my recliner? 😂

[juliebrost]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Airspace Adjustable Laptop Desk Used.

[bedbugtreatmentlab]

The Ultimate Quick Guide to Orlando Bed Bug Treatment

Doing away with bed pests is actually certainly not fast or low-cost. In depth evaluation as well as treatment is actually the only method to get rid of all of them. Look in and around nightstands, especially responsible for face layers. Check wall spaces for evidence of hiding locations and the presence of molted fairy skin layer. Just before the bed bug treatment Orlando it is actually needed to dramatically decrease the population along with either vapor (warm) or cryonite (cold). This are going to guarantee the success of the app.

1. Check Your Bed mattress

It's certainly not an enjoyable duty, but you'll intend to perform a complete evaluation of your mattress as well as the bed frame and also head board. Draw off the slab, as well as use a torch to search along the folds up, joints, and also cording of your mattress. Search for blood stream blemishes, discharge, thrown away skin layer casings, and also little sets of white colored eggs.

When you have finished, transform the cushion over and also check the bottom, paying special attention to the corners and also joints. You may yearn for to run a charge card between the bed mattress as well as the framework to help you poke out any type of hidden insects or even eggs wedged in gaps.

You ought to also examine the folds up, joints, as well as tufting of your carton spring season and headboard. If achievable, make an effort to avoid producing previously owned furniture, as well as consistently make use of a full covering bed mattress guard when taking a trip.

2. Inspect Your Bedding

When you strip your sheets, try to find blood stream blemishes or undigested markings. Darker spots signify bed pest pheromones, as well as they typically appear in a bunch around the center of a problem.

Next, review the joints of your bed mattress and also carton springs, and also pay off exclusive focus to the regions beneath the plastic corner protectors and by the head board. You should additionally analyze the fractures and splits in nightstands, chest of drawers, as well as any home furniture near your bed.

Do not neglect to inspect the furrows as well as folds of your furniture, specifically upholstered items like sofas, recliner chairs, as well as armchairs. Also, look for signs of mattress bugs in closets and also mess, including papers, magazines, and apparel. Last but not least, see to it to check out any kind of used items you take right into your home, as they might consist of bedroom infections.

3. Examine Your Home furniture

If you locate a plagued furniture, remove it coming from your home asap. Wash or even vacuum it along seams, folds and other surprise regions to do away with any sort of bedroom pests or their eggs. After that utilize a mattress pest spray or explosive to handle the furnishings as well as all of the areas it's in.

Ensure to make use of a torch to illuminate dark corners and gaps that might include surprise bedroom insects. Then, while using a set of gloves, properly operate your fingers along the edges and also seams of the furniture, tufts as well as other tight spaces to seek brought up bumps, digestive discolorations, shed exoskeletons and very small blood spots. Additionally, don't fail to remember to inspect responsible for nightstands, the backside of mounted pictures and also in the gaps of timber furniture junctions.

4. Evaluate Your Walls

Generally, the most ideal location to locate bed bug treatment Orlando is actually around bedrooms and also various other home furniture. Yet they also like to hide in the wall structures, specifically where folks sit for substantial periods of your time, such as couches as well as recliner chairs.

Utilize a vivid torch to look dark splits and also gaps. The light might surprise the bed bugs as well as oblige all of them out of hiding. A magnifying glass is going to aid you see the pests better. A slender tool like a charge card or thin cement knife can assist you scratch out the insects.

Seek indicators of a bed pest problem in the tufts and joints of mattresses, in the folds of pillows, and in the edges behind head boards. If you can not discover any sort of, turn over nightstands and also chest of drawers to assess all-time lows.

5. Assess Your Floors

A mattress infection attack may disperse swiftly from space to space, so it is necessary to look extensively for indicators of an attack. Search for tiny blood stream discolorations, rust-colored spots, or even the bugs themselves. Make certain to look below home furniture like night tables, opulent armchairs and couches, as well as rugs. Also be actually sure to check moldings, walls, and also household furniture lower legs for cracks where bed pests or even their eggs could be hiding.

It is very important to remove and also check every one of the mess in your house to offer bedroom pests less areas to hide just before your treatment. Ensure to vacuum your rug and also clean your bed linen in very hot water frequently. Additionally, sealing off cracks in walls and around light outlets and wall sockets is a good tip to avoid the spread of mattress infections during the course of your treatment.

All American Pest Control

390 N Orange Ave Suite #2300

Orlando, FL 32801

(321) 559-7378

Orlando Bed Bug Treatment

[dominionproperties]

How to Create an Apartment Home Office Where Style Meets Productivity

Are you tired of working from your couch with a side of Netflix®? Or battling for space at the kitchen table that also serves as a catch-all for your whole apartment? It's time to step up your game and discover how to create an apartment home office that's invigorating, inspiring and efficient. Let's dive in!

Location, location, location

Pick prime real estate for your new apartment home office. You want a spot with minimal distractions and maximum comfort. No more setting up shop in the middle of your living room—choose a corner that says, “This is where the magic happens!”

Find a spot by a window for natural light and make sure your background is a nice view. Don't forget easy access to power outlets for all your tech needs. After all, you won’t be recharging your creative genius if your laptop isn’t charged.

Ergonomics is everything

Your back will thank you for investing in an ergonomic chair. Think of it as a productivity throne. Adjust the height, recline like a boss and roll around the room. Or if you prefer standing, invest in a solid standing desk that can adjust to the perfect height. (Kind of like the Goldilocks of sizes—not too big, not too small, but just right for all your projects.)

Organization brings clarity

Nobody wants to feel like they're working in a tornado of paperwork, tangled cords and empty coffee cups. Mastering organizational Zen is key to knowing how to create an apartment home office that inspires.

Get some sleek storage solutions—shelves, drawers or file cabinets—to keep clutter at bay. Use cable organizers to keep your wires neat and tidy. Remember, an organized space equals an organized mind.

Personalization station

Here's where the fun really begins. Personalize your space to reflect you. Add a splash of color with vibrant décor. Or some snazzy artwork that always puts you in the mood to work. Place a couple of plants around to help boost your mood. Bonus: Plants also purify the air. Add in a motivational quote or quirky knick-knack for extra oomph.

Time to shine

Creating an inspiring home office in your apartment can transform your work. As you figure out how to create an apartment home office, it won’t be long until you have the hottest workspace in town!

[chaosorc]

Grafting, Budding, and Shipping

Dave was sweating and rubbing his greasy chin stubble. He had been standing in the doorway looking at the messy room while Phil worked. Must have been five minutes without catching notice.

You think this will work? It looks painful. He chuckled.

Phil looked at him over his shoulder, holding the plant. Oh, it'll work my friend. Don't worry about that.

Dave looked for a place to sit. It was the final trailer in a chain where it was added as Phil's bedroom when he was old enough to move out of his mom and dad's trailer segment. The walls were actually made out of wood paneling from the seventies and Dave was used to just seeing a bed, a desk, and a couple of chairs like Phil maybe stole from an elementary school. Papers and compact discs and his latest projects on one side, the window on the other above the bed that was usually full of dead wasps on the window sill. Wasps were the only way to keep the bees next door from setting up hives on the property.

Dave finally settled for moving shoe boxes and a spiral notebook off the spare chair and onto the edge of a large set of speakers for the record player.

I'd rather not die of suspense.

It's called grafting and budding. I took the bud from the Gaia N-A house plant and grafted it to the kudzu and if you'll give me a minute I'll be done here.

Dave sat back and folded his arms, almost slid out of the chair.

A gaia what?

Phil pushed some papers off a box and handed it to Dave. On the front it read AIR CLEANER THAN SIXTY HOUSEPLANTS. The glossy paper inside explained how it had been genetically engineered to clean the air reducing anxiety and boosting moods, naturally of course. REMOVES VOLATILE ORGANIC COMPOUNDS or VOCs for short.

///

It's after midnight!

Sorry, ma.

The headlights from Dave's car backing out of the gravel driveway.

The screen door slapped at the side of the trailer and Phil bounded down the driveway to roll the chainlink fence closed. The sounds of cicadas had faded but not the nearby highway.

Phil's mother was climbing out of the recliner when he returned. He offered to help her but once she was able to stand up straight she waved him away with both hands and nearly toppled into the couch.

Phil stood with the kitchen light framing him and watched her weave out of his shadow and down the back hall to her bedroom trailer segment. The door closed.

The light clicked off and Phil edged his way through the dark and into his room. He had to push some stuff aside to shut the door.

The papers on the floor were maps and lists of addresses. Behind the door were boxes of vials and plastic packing, labels and photocopies of numbered directions.

Phil fell face down on the mattress and began to snore almost immediately.

///

He woke and the sun had crept through the clouds and his window and was at his face. Something caught his eye and Phil sat upright and stared for a few moments at the vine that had tripled in length since yesterday. He spent the rest of the day with the window open so he could hear the on and off rain as he carefully trimmed away buds and placed them in plastic vials with PGR serum (plant growth regulator) to inhibit growth.

///

Phil sat with his mother at the small folding table and chairs in the kitchen. They ate eggs and a processed steak slice, side of potatoes.

She started, What are you off to tonight?

Have to mail those off. He gestured with his elbow at milk crates stacked by the side door. Diligently arranged cardboard boxes inside, individually labeled, postage visible in places.

More plants?

Yeah, just a little project.

She let out a snort and they ate in silence.

He washed the dishes with the phone cradled in his ear, tethered to the wall by the coiled cord.

Dave! I need you, Dave! Pick up.

The sound of a struggle. Dude, what's up?

Where are you?

Oh shit, is it four?

Phil let the phone drop and continued scrubbing.

Mom in the living room a few feet away sitting on the couch facing the television where a deputy beat a poor person on an action show.

///

They listened to classic radio in Dave's car. The entire upper half of Phil's body rocked forwards and back.

At the stop light he turned, Dude. Calm. Down.

Phil would not make eye contact. Instead he stared at the light and squinted against the noon sun glare.

They turned onto his block and Phil clicked off the seatbelt. Before the car had stopped in front of his house he pushed open the door and hopped on one foot, fought with the chain link gate to roll it back enough to squeeze through.

Dave leaned over and yelled, later gator. And pulled the door shut.

Phil heard the engine pick up as Dave drove off. As that sound died he could hear his mother calling for help.

He pulled open the side door and the hallway at the end of the trailer was impassable. Green vines crept around the door frame and tendrils hung menacingly in the dark.

He ran around the front of the house and doubled back past his father's shed to his mother's window. His own window creeping with vines, hanging in the afternoon sun.

When he got to the window he could see inside was dark, a few vines here and there. His mother's still yelling, Help me, Phil! Oh my god, help me!

The area behind the covered patio and shed was where the septic tank had been buried. There was a large bush that had grown up to provide shade to that side of the house. And, in the eight or so feet between it and the trailer he could see that the vines had slowly crept out along the ground.

In the awning of the trailer benefiting from the shade and the distance from the trafficked areas was a line of white, porous wasps nests with holes that shivered as Phil approached. And, at the broken out window that led to his mother's trailer they swarmed.