“Ruthenium Marie Quinn!” They heard being bellowed from downstairs, their dad’s deadpan intonation breaking character as he all but yelled for her.
They logged off the chat and decided to simply drop in and give him a good scare. Like literally. They slipped through the floor, drifting down until they fell and solidified in front of him, causing him to let out a girlish shriek.
“Ruth,” he warned, a thick finger waving in front of her face.
“What’s good, Daddio?” They asked in an exaggerated drawl, sliding lazy cat eyes his way.
“Eight times in the last year alone my boss- you know my employer, has emailed me saying that once again, you are attacking SHIELD online.”
“Ohhhhh-kaaaaay... and? What kind of government agency doesn’t allow for freedom of speech? Seems kinda fash to me, pops,” Ruth argued, shrugging.
“It’s not- you are bad mouthing my job, the people who employ your mother and I and keep food in your ungrateful mouth. This is your final warning, Ruthenium. If you put a toe out of line again, you can find a way to pay for your last year or college on your own. Do you understand me?” He stared down at her, only a few inches taller at 6’2.
“Either that or you will accept the internship they keep so graciously offering you.”
“Graciously? Okay, father. I don’t want it. I don’t want to work for SHIELD and be a like a traitor to my own species. You guys know that all I want to do is write!” They groaned, throwing their hands up in the air.
“And who helped you self-publish?! Where do you think that money comes from? You’re a hypocrite. You’ll take their money but then turn around and drag their name through the mud. You’re lucky I’m not taking away your recording equipment. That little podcast of yours is attracting the wrong kind of attention,” he warned, turning around to walk away from them.
“Great talk, dad!” They called after him, glaring petulantly at him.
I’m twenty one, not fourteen. But thanks for once again dismissing me. God.
Ruth rolled their eyes and ran back upstairs, wanting to get back to work on their new title but one look at the clock and they knew they needed to leave.
Jack and the Conjurers blinked at Ruth and they grinned, “Fucketh you, Rowling,” they whispered fondly.
Saving the file on their laptop, and stowing it away, Ruth ran downstairs and grabbed their razor scooter. Pushing one foot off the curb, they began their daily trip to school.
They logged off the chat and decided to simply drop in and give him a good scare. Like literally. They slipped through the floor, drifting down until they fell and solidified in front of him, causing him to let out a girlish shriek.
“Ruth,” he warned, a thick finger waving in front of her face.
“What’s good, Daddio?” They asked in an exaggerated drawl, sliding lazy cat eyes his way.
“Eight times in the last year alone my boss- you know my employer, has emailed me saying that once again, you are attacking SHIELD online.”
“Ohhhhh-kaaaaay... and? What kind of government agency doesn’t allow for freedom of speech? Seems kinda fash to me, pops,” Ruth argued, shrugging.
“It’s not- you are bad mouthing my job, the people who employ your mother and I and keep food in your ungrateful mouth. This is your final warning, Ruthenium. If you put a toe out of line again, you can find a way to pay for your last year or college on your own. Do you understand me?” He stared down at her, only a few inches taller at 6’2.
“Either that or you will accept the internship they keep so graciously offering you.”
“Graciously? Okay, father. I don’t want it. I don’t want to work for SHIELD and be a like a traitor to my own species. You guys know that all I want to do is write!” They groaned, throwing their hands up in the air.
“And who helped you self-publish?! Where do you think that money comes from? You’re a hypocrite. You’ll take their money but then turn around and drag their name through the mud. You’re lucky I’m not taking away your recording equipment. That little podcast of yours is attracting the wrong kind of attention,” he warned, turning around to walk away from them.
“Great talk, dad!” They called after him, glaring petulantly at him.
I’m twenty one, not fourteen. But thanks for once again dismissing me. God.
Ruth rolled their eyes and ran back upstairs, wanting to get back to work on their new title but one look at the clock and they knew they needed to leave.
Jack and the Conjurers blinked at Ruth and they grinned, “Fucketh you, Rowling,” they whispered fondly.
Saving the file on their laptop, and stowing it away, Ruth ran downstairs and grabbed their razor scooter. Pushing one foot off the curb, they began their daily trip to school.
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