Neil Patrick Villanueva-Harris
Nov 27, 2014 0:57:19 GMT -5
Post by Neil Villanueva-Harris on Nov 27, 2014 0:57:19 GMT -5
The easy S T U F F . . .
Name: Neil Patrick Villanueva-Harris.
Nickname: Neil. Pat. Patrick. Patpat by his parents. NPH, but only his husband can get away with calling him that.
Age: Thirty-three.
Member Group: Teacher: Science. (Chemistry or Biology).
Power(s):Duplication. Put simply, Neil’s ability allows him to create clones of himself. These clones are flesh and blood, and are complete carbon copies of himself down to the cellular level. The clones are, for better or for worse, sentient; while each body maintains some subconscious connection with the others, not one body can exert control over the others thru supernatural means. And since all of the bodies retain Neil's personality, seeing the man argue with himself is quite the sight.
The most he’s created without changing his caloric intake was four bodies; they all lasted for around of three hours. Anything above that and he'd need to eat a bit more prior to cloning himself. (The most he’s gone up to was eight; he only maintained it for no longer than a minute before passing out for the rest of the day). He’s constantly been pushing his limits though, and can now maintain two bodies for around twelve hours or so.
As Neil’s copies are taken from his genes, all clones are understandably naked when created, which means that Neil isn’t really fond of showing off his abilities in public without prior preparation. Also, physical contact is required to reabsorb his clones.
Speaking of reabsorption, as these clones are flesh and blood, whatever injuries they’ve encountered prior to reabsorption is transferred to the remaining body at a proportional rate. (That is, if there are two copies, the extent of the injury is halved, provided only one body was hurt. So if there are eight bodies, then the extent of the injury is down to an eight of it). The same principle also applies should Neil have an injury prior to mitosis – its gravity is divided equally amongst the resulting clones.
(A direct consequence of being able to reabsorb his own clones is that this grants Neil the ability to multitask, something he’s abused when he was taking his undergraduate degree).
Due to his cells constantly dividing, Neil has a relatively augmented metabolism, and usually eats six meals a day just to keep himself going. He also experiences relatively unusual, at least for a meta with a seemingly physical-based power, side effects for mind-based powers such as nausea and headaches. Lastly, he’s at an increased risk for cancer, faster aging and ultimately death.
Play By: Conrad Ricamora.
Let it F L O W . . .
“…You should’ve seen the look on his face. He like went from Tiana the Frog Princess to Snow White the moment he realized who I was. It. Was. Hilarious.”
The brunette on screen laughed – no, howled – as he shook his head and slapped his knee.
The man on the other side, however, simply nodded, letting out a barely audible “uhh, nice”.
The brunette, understandably, wasn’t all too pleased with the chilly reception. “Really Neil? Really?” Had Neil been looking at the screen instead of his flashcards, he would’ve seen the brunette roll his eyes to oblivion. “Why did I marry you again?” He tilted his head back and groaned, shaking his head in disappointment.
The appearance of a Great Dane and its repeated barking as it tried to sit on the brunette’s lap barely caught Neil’s attention.
“Earth to Neil.”
Nothing.
“The most important man in your life is saying something.”
Not even a glance.
“Hello.”
They haven’t seen each other in five weeks and this was how he responds?
“EARTH. TO. NEIL. YOUR. HUSBAND. BECKONS.”
“Fucking hell Lionel!” Neil practically jumped off his bed, hastily removing his earphones. When he returned, he had what Lionel liked to call his husband’s trademark bitch stare.
Fifteen year-old Lionel might’ve cowered in fear. Twenty-two year-old Lionel would’ve jumped at his fiancé, grabbed the man and peppered his neck with kisses as he apologized repeatedly. Thirty-three year old Lionel, however, simply snorted.
“You’re a filthy ho. What’s more important than me and my pointless work stories anyway?”
“The Hammel interview’s tonday.”
“So? Haven’t you prepped enough for it yet?” That was all Neil could talk about for the past three months anyway. Ever since they met a friend of theirs from high school in Paris and she told Neil that there’s an opening in their alma mater. Oh how Lionel would like to shave Lisa Singh’s hair. (But he won’t. Cause she’s partly how Neil and Lionel met).
“I don’t know.” A long, deep sigh. Lionel knew that Neil loved to worry but sighs like this were very rare. He’s only heard his husband sigh like that five times before: first when he asked if him and Lionel are ‘boyfriends’ already, second when Neil got accepted to Harvard, third when his father-in-law got diagnosed with cancer, fourth when his wedding proposal almost got screwed over because of bad weather (not that Lionel would’ve noticed; he was equal parts oblivious and just overwhelmed with what was happening to notice), and fifth when they’ve decided they’re going to adopt a corgi but Charles the puppy jumped at Neil the moment they went to the pound and captured his husband’s heart almost immediately.
Long story short, this really was a big fucking deal.
“I just learned who’s going to interview me,” explained Neil, biting his lip slightly. He grabbed the pillow from behind him and hugged it tightly. “Panel has Ms. Morgenstern – who doesn’t like your dad, so me by extension; Dr. Neville – which means I can’t even think stupid things; and Dr. Townsley – basically my idol. So yeah I’m fucking nervous.”
Times like this Lionel wished he was right beside his husband. Oh how he’d like to grab the man’s face right now and just kiss him right there and then. ‘Cause for someone who had a bachelor’s degree from Harvard and a master’s from Cambridge, his husband was being incredibly stupid.
“Babe, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Charles the overgrown dog of a puppy was the Neil stand-in for the moment, with Lionel repeatedly rubbing his fur and giving him tight hugs. The Great Dane wasn’t complaining. At all. “Trust me. There’s no one more qualified to teach biology or chemistry or whatever the fuck you’re planning to teach. Unless it’s woodworking. ‘Cause heaven knows you don’t know how to work with tools.”
“Well I know how to work you.” Finally the nervous smile was replaced with a more self-assured one. “Rather well too, if I could say so myself.”
Lionel burst out laughing. “Neil Patrick Harris, I’m trying to have a moment here. Shut the fuck up.” The confident smirk turned into a pout. Oh how he loved calling his husband that. “Seriously. I don’t think there’s anyone else who would’ve graduated with the highest honours while doing a double-major in molecular and cellular biology and neurobiology AND minoring in gender studies – from Harvard no less – and was able to maintain a healthy relationship with a very needy boyfriend.” Lionel seriously had no idea how his husband was able to do it. And Neil wanted to work part-time even so he can pay for his own education. Great Bey-sus.
(Lionel drew the line there and insisted that nope, he’s paying for Neil’s education. Neil resisted. So Lionel got one of his mom’s foundation’s to award Neil a scholarship. It almost broke them up when Neil discovered the plan three years into his degree).
“And it’s not like you have to work anyway.” Perks of marrying a trust fund baby and eventual multinational conglomerate CEO. Neil’s adamant on not relying too much on his husband’s family fortune though, something Lionel truly admires about him. He calls it his husband’s “middle-class sensibilities”.
“…Are you actually rooting against me?”
Of course his just had to add that statement to his little ‘calm the husbo down’ spiel.
“No!” This was the first time in five weeks that they’ve sat down and talked. (They’re texting and calling daily, but it just wasn’t the same). “All I’m saying is if this is still because Charlie called you a ‘trophy husband’ two years ago…”
Seconds within saying that, Lionel realized his mistake.
Foot in mouth disease. Fun.
“…I’m so not having this conversation now.” Neil rolled to his right, aiming to leave his bed and end the call right there and then.
“Babe! Don’t! I’ll drop it, fine.” Troubleshooting wasn’t really Lionel’s forte. At least when he can’t use his hands when he does it. “Let’s talk about something different now. I’ve already told you I met with Bruno again last night right?”
That thankfully brought his husband back to the bed. “Damn. Twice in three weeks? That’s a new record. You falling for him yet?”
“I think I might. He does this thing with my ass that always makes my eyes water.”
Neil snorted. “You need to learn from him, obviously.”
Before Lionel could respond, a woman in her late sixties spoke. “’Wag kang maniwala sa mokong na yan. Nasa bahay lang siya buong araw. Nakahiga sa kama. Akap-akap yung unan mo.”[1]
“HEY HEY HEY. English please. Sheesh.” The woman simply rolled her eyes as she basically pushed Lionel off his seat in an effort to see Neil better.
Maria was one of Lionel’s oldest housekeepers. She practically raised Lionel. It was just pure coincidence that he’d marry a man who spoke her native tongue. Maria liked to tease Neil that it was the only reason she approved on him above all of Lionel’s exes.
“Pinagseselos ka lang-“[2]
“Nanay Maria I swear I’ll fire you if you say one more word,” growled Lionel as he finally found another chair and made the woman scoot to the side just slightly.
“Seryoso ‘Nay?”[3]
Lionel obviously didn’t like that his husband didn’t reply in English, but being with the man for about fifteen years now and meeting the rest of his husband’s extended family (who, whenever they’re together, absolutely refuses to talk in English unless they’re talking to him), he’s all used to it.
“Oo. Bakit kasi hindi ka na lang dito magturo?”[4] Neil did consider teaching in California. It was where the Harris Industries Headquarters was located, and thus by default his and Lionel’s home base for the past five years. Even though due to Lionel’s position in the company he’s in another city three out of the four weeks in a month. And since Lionel insisted his husband not bother himself with work, it meant being stuck in WeHo for weeks and weeks on end. Alone. Sometimes he'd follow Lionel, but otherwise, it's been pretty bland. “Marami namang schools dito. Mas maganda pa ang bayad, not that you’d have to care.”[5]
“Finally the woman speaks English!”
Neil merely shrugs.
“Nga pala, tumawag ang nanay mo kahapon. Pinapaalala na sa kanila sa Vancouver raw kayo magpa-Pasko this year.”[6]
This time, Neil laughs. “As if I’d forget. Dad and her had been reminding me about it nonstop.”
Lionel, who’d be relegated to merely stroking Charles ‘cause the two basically pushed him to the side, beamed as he finally had an idea about what they’re talking about. “Are we talking about Christmas?” He turned to Maria then Neil. “You don’t sound too happy.”
“I for one am in love with this idea. I miss puto bungbong and bibingka. Why can’t you ever cook those right anyway?” While he might be a good cook, Neil usually fumbles when it comes to his cultural heritage. Lionel tried to learn a dish or two when he wanted to surprise Neil back when they lived in New York, but his seasoning was off. Nanay Maria knew how, but she said that such desserts were more trouble than what they’re worth and refuses to make them on principle. “’Sides, I’m curious about the new girl Norman’s dating. I heard she’s a ditz.”
“Oh god no. She’s stupid as fuck. Do not want her near my niece.”
“Olivia’s basically a little Charlotte so I’m pretty sure she’ll be fine.” Five years old and she’s already sassed Lionel to silence. “I actually feed bad for Jackson. Living with those two? Sheesh.”
“Hey, Charlie’s still my sister you know.”
“But she’s cuckoo!”
“…she is.” Neil preferred to call her driven. And detail-oriented. At least to her face anyway.
“I think it’s hereditary to be honest.”
“…”
Neil can’t really argue with that. It’s their Type A personalities that made them closer actually. It also threatens to tear them apart almost regularly. Luckily Norman took after their dad. Unfortunately for him, it meant being the unwilling mediator 90% of the time.
Neil quickly jumped off the bed and returned with two outfits in hangers. “Which?”
“Yung itim. Mas pogi kang tignan sa itim. Tapos pink undershirt.”[7]
“Don’t listen to the old hag. Go with the red blazer. And jeans. No need to be more formal.”
Neil thought about it for a good minute or so. “Sorry Nay, the husband wins this time.”
Lionel did a little fist bump and elbowed Maria slightly. “K now Nay, you can leave. Neil’ll be undressing and I’ll be pressuring him to have Skype sex with his husband and I’m not in the mood to pay for your hospital bills should you suddenly faint.”
Neil turned red. Maria’s been a confidante for the longest time, and yet Neil still can’t imagine talking sex with her. She’s almost as old as his mom; it just didn’t feel right. Lionel, on the other hand, doesn’t shy away from anything. He even asked Maria for tips in bed once. And Maria, in her infinite wisdom, decided to check up on Neil if Lionel did do her tips the next morning.
He did. And they felt great. Like really great. Which made Neil feel really uncomfortable.
“Kadiri.”[8] The woman stood up with a huff, carrying Charles with her. “Sa Pasko ha, wag kalimutan.”[9]
Neil could only shake his head as the old woman left. “Promise me you won’t kill each other while I’m gone?”
“Dude, that woman can go in a brawl with five grizzly bears and win without a scratch. It should be me you’re worrying about.”
“I’m just saying…”
“Less talking, more stripping. I know that old hag basically told you I’ve been experiencing a three-week drought and if you don’t follow what I say right now heavens help me I’ll fly out there and drag your delicious bum back here and never let you go.”
[1]”Don’t believe that moron. He was at home the entire day. Lying on your bed. Hugging your pillow.”
[2]”He’s just trying to make you jealous.”
[3]“Are you serious?”
[4]”Yup. Why don’t you just teach here anyway?”
[5]”There are tons of good schools around here. They pay better too, not that you’d have to care.”
[6]“By the way, your mom called. She wants me to remind you that you’d be spending Christmas with them in Vancouver.”
[7]”The black one. You look better in black. Then wear a pink shirt underneath.”
[8]“Ew.”
[9]”Christmas ok? Don’t forget.”
Behind the M A S K . . .
Name: Kale.
Age: Early twenties.
RP Experience: Five years, give or take.
How did you find us?: Google.
Show your S K I L L S . . .
It’s hard not to feel nostalgic.
Neil knew that being nostalgic would be his undoing. Like most alumni, Hammel was an incredible time for Neil. It was where he learned to be independent. Where he reconciled with his identity and laid down the groundwork of who he became to be. Where he met the love of his life. Of course it wasn’t without its struggles, but after fifteen years, memories tend to blend together and it’s just so hard to focus on the bad when it’s been mostly good.
And when Neil feels good, he gets rattled. Emotion overcomes him and all plans go to shit. Unlike his sister, who can shut off her emotions if need be (metaphorically of course, though if they discover later on that it’s actually a metahuman ability he wouldn’t be surprised), his calculated mind just goes haywire when emotions become significant enough. Why else would his marriage proposal almost turn to shit?
He’s nervous and excited and anxious and confident and basically every emotion all at once. He’d even go as far as to say it’s like how he felt during their wedding day, but Lionel would kill him if he knew. So he won’t. But it’s close enough.
“Hi,” he said as he approached the headmistress’ assistant, “I’m Neil Patrick Harris.” The receptionist gave him the most incredulous look. Holy fuck he needed to get these nerves out of him. “I meant, Neil Patrick Villanueva-Harris. I have a meeting with Ms. Morgenstern at ten?”
The receptionist briefly looked at Ms. Morgenstern’s schedule and promptly instructed Neil to wait by the couches. He quickly took a seat and took his phone out, texting his husband urgently.
/Help./
/Dying./
/Also the gum you stuck in the pink bench by the pond is still there. Disgusting./
