#it's just a matter of applying a trick that i already know on new equipment

[scrapimmortal]

save me dianxia

#first coffee shift on a new espresso machine #on easter sunday #pray for me #i CAN do it #it's just a matter of applying a trick that i already know on new equipment #also it's fine if the latte art is just simple hearts for now #no one expects fucking swans #i just keep having this recurring fear that i've lost all my skills #me: 'i wanna be able to make butterfly latte art :(' i mean yes of course i do but maybe not today #go slow #actually it's pretty nice that i finally get to hone my barista skills #never got the chance to at the other place

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Main Story 7-35 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 7 – Rains of Monte Cristo: 7-1 / 7-3 / 7-5 / 7-7 / 7-9 / 7-11 / 7-13 / 7-15 / 7-17 / 7-19  ♦️ ♦️  7-20 / 7-22 / 7-24 / 7-26 / 7-28 / 7-30 / 7-32 / 7-34 / 7-35

Content Warning: This section contains topics that may be uncomfortable to some readers (mentions of abuse). Please proceed with discretion.

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Court Hallway

After the trial ended, I did not leave immediately. Rather, I waited in the hallway for Hang Jiahe. 

Soon, she walked over, guarded by two bailiffs.

MC: Miss Hang.

Hang Jiahe: What are you doing here? Are you going to laugh at me?

Hang Jiahe: Are you happy to have beat me?

MC: You’ve misunderstood. I came to tell you something.

Hang Jiahe: What?

MC: Actually… this examination report…

I took out that last examination report again.

MC: Due to time and technical limits, we currently do not have the identification results.

MC: When I showed it in court, I just wanted to add psychological pressure onto you.

Hang Jiahe: …

Hang Jiahe froze for a few seconds, but she then responded quickly.

Hang Jiahe: You tricked me��� you tricked me… hahahahahahaha!

She suddenly burst into sharp laughter.

Hang Jiahe: I didn’t lose… I didn’t lose…

Hang Jiahe: I still got my revenge!

MC: …

MC: Miss Hang, can I ask you something?

Hang Jiahe: What do you want to say?

MC: You said in court that Qi Yu tried to hold Hang Fei back “that night”.

MC: But you still murdered her out of hate for her bystander position, correct?

Hang Jiahe: Yes, I hated her for being a coward, hated her for being too scared to resist Hang Fei, hated her for looking on for so many years without lifting a finger!

Hang Jiahe: She knew during those years what Hang Fei was doing to me, so why didn’t she save me?

MC: …

Hang Jiahe: Then… did you know that Hang Fei had also been abusing Qi Yu during those years?

Hang Jiahe: I did. How could she not have been beaten, with how cowardly she was?

MC: Then do you know why she was beaten?

Hang Jiahe: Why?

MC: …

I took out my phone and opened a video featuring Qi Yu’s abuse. That small woman was lying weakly on the floor, passively enduring the man’s punches and kicks. But she kept mumbling something –

“Don’t hurt Jiahe… and those children… stop it…”

Hang Jiahe: What…

MC: Miss Hang, did Qi Yu never do anything during all those times you were abused?

MC: Are you sure that every time, she chose to be a bystander, rather than being forced into her position?

MC: Did you know that Qi Yu said those words in each of the videos she was beaten in?

Hang Jiahe: I…

Hang Jiahe froze for a second, but then she immediately reacted.

Hang Jiahe: So what, then? What do you want to say?

Hang Jiahe: That I misunderstood her? That I shouldn’t have killed her? Then does all the pain I suffered for so many years even matter?

Hang Jiahe: You want me to absolve her? To forgive her?

MC: You’ve misunderstood. That’s not what I mean.

MC: I am not you. I have not endured your suffering, so I cannot request for you to forgive anyone.

MC: I haven’t seen what happened during those years, so I cannot judge whether Qi Yu was actively or passively making her decisions.

MC: And I definitely can’t carelessly determine whether she sinned or not.

I stopped for a moment and looked at Hang Jiahe’s gloves. 

In her mind, she probably was the Count of Monte Cristo, Edmond Dantès – someone who had been wronged and could only get revenge for herself. She believed herself as intelligent and as lucky as Edmond, that she would ultimately be the winner. But…

MC: But even Edmond would figure out the situation before his revenge and repay his benefactors.

MC: I’m telling you this, only because I hope you’ll understand what sorts of people you sent away.

MC: I hope you understand that there have been people who intended to treat you kindly.

Hang Jiahe: …

MC: Also, Miss Hang, I can guess why you were not willing to ask for help from the police.

MC: In that sort of situation, you may have thought that you couldn’t rely on the outside world to go against them.

MC: But even so, me, Captain Morgan, and many, many people still have to do something.

I flipped further into the examination report.

MC: Even if Hang Fei is gone, the things he’s done will not disappear with him.

MC: This is the report we’ve created. Captain Morgan’s already sent it to upper management and applied for international cooperation.

MC: Miss Hang, we will bring you the justice you deserve for the pain you’ve experienced.

MC: As for the last few people, I promise that they will receive the punishment they deserve.

MC: So, for the rest of your life, please don’t live in hate.

MC: You’ve already stayed in the darkness for long enough. Please try to take a step forward.

MC: Doesn’t it say that in your beloved “The Count of Monte Cristo”?

MC: “He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness.”

MC: Miss Hang, if possible, please try it.

MC: Perhaps the light you’ve always been searching for isn’t too far away.

Hang Jiahe: …

Hang Jiahe: Ha… ha… hahahahaha!

Hang Jiahe broke into sudden, sharp laughter. It sounded like a heartrending sob was woven in it, as it resounded in the empty hallway, melting into the rain.

Amid the grey deluge of rain, specks of light leaked through. Maybe the downpour would finally end this time.

Not long after, Simon’s homicide case opened trial, and Wang Chunchong was deemed the murderer. Xingrui Estates declared that they would be depriving Xu Yin of her position and removing her from the family. Only Tyson received the weakest blow, as the evidence for instigation of murder was insufficient. However, lots of people online were saying that they hoped he would “succumb to the demon of illness as soon as possible”.  

Thus, the homicide case of the couple in Yaofu Community came to an end.

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

NXX Base

After the Hang Jiahe case concluded, the NXX investigation team met up at the base again for discussion.

MC: That’s how the Hang Jiahe case went.

Marius: Thanks for your hard work!

Artem: Thanks for your hard work. You did excellently.

Luke and Vyn nodded at me.

MC: Thanks, everyone.

MC: Enough about me – how’s everyone else’s investigation?

Artem: I’ve already updated Tyson’s case file. I haven’t found any new clues for now.

Marius: I followed what Wang Chunchong said and investigated that guy named Xiao Ren, but…

Marius: I haven’t found anything for now.

Luke: You also found out about Xiao Ren?

Marius: Huh?

Vyn: What a coincidence. I, too, found out about him.

MC: !!!

Luke: Marius, what information do you have on Xiao Ren right now?

Marius: Mainly what Wang Chunchong told me before.

Marius sighed.

Marius: According to Wang Chunchong, Xiao Ren is linked to Heirson’s raw materials purchases.

Marius: Tyson held Xiao Ren to very high regard, and keeps his occupational information on severe confidential status.

Marius: All in all, this person seems pretty mysterious.

Marius: What about you, Luke? What did you find?

Luke: The aunties in the group told me that Zhao Fei kept looking for someone called “Xiao Ren”.

Luke: I suspect that Tyson brought up this person in the recording that he sent him.

Marius: That’s possible. Wang Chunchong also heard Tyson bring up Xiao Ren, so there should be some sort of link between them.

Artem: Luke, that’s not all the information that the assistive team provided you, is it?

Luke: Yep, that’s not all.

Luke: First, the workers in Heirson where the abnormalities appeared were mostly on the production front lines, so what they touch the most are the products.

Vyn: They probably mixed in their developed illegal drugs into the products, resulting in infection.

Luke: That’s right.

Luke: Secondly, about Zhao Fei…

Luke ripped out a page from his notebook and placed it on the table.

Artem: These names are…

Luke: When I was questioning these ten people about Zhao Fei, their reactions were a bit abnormal. I suspect that…

Luke: They’re the ones hiding Zhao Fei.

MC: What about you, then, Dr. Richter? You just said that you also found out about Xiao Ren.

Vyn: I spoke with half of the 20 special respondents and noticed that it was the same doctor in charge of their examinations.

Vyn: And that person is named “Xiao Ren”.

Vyn: So I suspect that this person knows many secrets regarding Heirson’s experimental data.

MC: If so, this Xiao Ren person knows about where raw materials come from and can deal with the experimental data…

MC: If we can find him, we might be able to patch up the missing part in our evidence chain against Heirson.

Marius: So this Xiao Ren is going to be our investigative focal point from now on?

Luke: Leave it to me, then. I’m the best when it comes to finding people.

Artem: Then leave Zhao Fei to me. I just happen to have something I want to confirm with him.

Vyn: I have only met with the special patients. I will continue to meet with the remaining bunch.

Vyn: Marius, what are your plans?

Marius: Me? I plan to go see Hang Jiahe.

Marius: She wanted to find reporters in the past to drop major news about Heirson, and she’s now in jail…

Marius: We should find out what this news is.

MC: Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that!

Marius: So, jiejie, want to come with me to see Hang Jiahe? After all, only the two of us know her the best.

MC: Uh…

I suddenly had a bad feeling.

Luke: Marius, do you really need someone to accompany you just to go see someone?

Marius: I’m not going to see a typical person, am I? I’m going to see someone who might give us an important clue.

Marius: It makes sense to be a little more cautious and bring someone else.

Luke: Then just bring your assistant. If anything else, then bring some recording equipment.

Luke: Convenient, and it can record in real time.

MC: …

Right after, Artem spoke.

Artem: Zhao Fei’s case was ours to begin with, and now that we have clues…

Artem: MC, let’s finish it off, alright?

MC: Lawyer Wing…

Vyn: I may be overstepping, but…

Vyn stepped in just before Artem could speak again.

Vyn: May I trouble you to go with me next?

Vyn: There’s a special patient that I need your assistance with.

Faced with their “eager” eyes, I was very sure that –

The investigation team seriously needs to recruit a new member!

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼ CHAPTER 7 END  ✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

#Tears of Themis #tears of themis translations #tot translations #lu jinghe #zuo ran #xia yan #mo yi #marius von hagen #artem wing #luke pearce #vyn richter #未定事件簿 #feels bad for hjh :'(

[starlightrows]

In The Eye Of The Beholder

Chapter 1

Next →

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: brief description and mildly graphic medical jargon about losing an eye and having a prosthetic implant placed

Summary: Shortly after the events of the Battle of Khorm, the Kaminoans don’t see the value in moving forward with treatment for Commander Wolffe... you, the GAR doctor on the Coruscant disagree

“I don’t remember asking for your goddamn opinion ambassador!” you shout up at the pale long necked Kaminoan, who’s been passively berating you in an attempt to get your patient taken off life support. Your communicator goes off loudly, and you feel no shame in looking at it instead of listening to the Kaminoan ambassadors retort.

“I’m sorry ambassador, but this discussion is over. The requisition for the cybernetic prosthesis has gone through and whether you like it or not, I am going to give that man a fighting chance. He didn’t lay down his life to be tossed out with the garbage. Now get out of my med bay,” your turn on your heel, and begin speaking into your comlink to arrange for the surgery to get underway immediately.

The procedure took nine grueling hours to fully clear out the wound, put in the prosthetic eye and reconstruct the damage to the soldier's facial structure. He stood a good chance of making a full recovery if the cybernetic innervations healed correctly. Now it was just a matter of letting him rest and wake up in his own time.

Most clone troopers in the GAR hospital didn’t get many visitors, most didn’t stay long enough to need visitors though the ones that lived through their ordeals usually recovered on transports back to the front line. But this trooper had a frequent visitor, a Jedi.

“He must be a very good commander for you to check in on him so often,” you comment one afternoon, standing by the door. The tall Kel Dor turned to face you.

“He is. A dutiful, loyal, hardworking commander. But that is not why I come to see him,” he says

“Why then? Certainly a Jedi Master and a General in the Grand Army of the Republic has many duties and responsibilities to see to,” you approach the bed with your tray of fresh wound dressings for his eye.

“The same reason you advocated for him when the Kaminoans wanted to let him die. He is a person. An individual. He is a good man. And he is a member of my team,” he explains while you work to remove the bandages that keep the stitches and cybernetics clean.

“You care for him,” you say with a smile, applying a layer of bacta gel to the stitches with a cotton bud.

“Indeed. I care for him, and all of his brothers that serve under my command. I am not the only one who worries after his health,” The jedi steps around you, trying not to be in the way.

“Well that makes two of us. I don’t even know him, but I want him to live. And not just to keep serving the republic,” you finish applying the bacta gel and begin rewrapping his head with clean bandages.

“You have a good heart doctor, and better view of the troopers than most. I think he’ll like you when he has the chance to formally meet you,” the jedi says

“I should hope so, he’ll have to come back fairly regularly for check ups and case study updates. He’s the first living being with this particular model of prosthesis. If he doesn’t like me, it’ll be a very unpleasant couple months until the study is complete,” you’ve finished wrapping his head, but find you can’t stop looking at his handsome face. True you’ve seen thousands exactly like his before, but right now it’s as if you’ve never seen anyone like him.

“I’ll be the first to admit, he’s stubborn and a bit gruff. But he’s not so bad once you get to know him, he’s fiercely protective and hates to feel weak. This will be a difficult recovery for him, but I have confidence in him. And in you doctor,” you tear your gaze away from the commander and smile at the jedi.

“Thank you master jedi,” you give him a small bow of your head out of respect.

“Plo,” he says “No need for such formalities,” you wonder briefly if he is smiling beneath his deoxygenator, it certainly sounds like it.

“And him? They don’t include their chosen names in their identification codes, just CC and CT numbers. I doubt he goes by his CC number day to day,” you pack away your equipment, unfortunately other patients are waiting, as much as you would love to stay and chat with the kind jedi master. Plo tracks your movements, he senses your rising anxieties about having to leave and attend to other matters in the hospital. Just as you’re about to leave without getting an answer, Plo speaks up.

“His name is Wolffe”

—

Much to your delight, Commander Wolffe does wake up within a few days. And he’s every bit the stubborn, defensive, and unwilling patient Master Plo promised he would be. He keeps getting up and trying to leave despite obviously being in immense physical pain, he’s already ripped his stitches once, and he’s down right refusing to let you get near him to check the wound and change the dressing.

“Commander Wolffe I am at my wits end here. I’m going to step out to allow you a visitor, and when I come back you will be laying on that bed, I am changing those dressings, you are taking your medication. Is that that clear?” You bark at him. He glares at you with his one amber eye but does not respond.

You push the door open and see Master Plo waiting on the other side.

“He’s all yours General, talk some sense into him if you can,” you toss the comment over your shoulder as you head down to the nurses station for a cup of water.

Master Plo enters the patient room, and finds Wolffe pacing against the far wall. His head snaps up, and he visibly struggles to bring the newcomer into his field of vision.

“General!” Wolffe says in surprise, straightening his posture

“Wolffe, your doctor tells me you’re refusing care,” Plo closes the door behind him.

“I should be out there,” Wolffe growls “Kriff… I shouldn’t even be alive right now. They’re keeping me alive to keep me in a box!”

Plo senses that there is something more, something he’s holding back, beyond wanting to be released from med bay.

“You know better than most that withholding the truth can be the determining factor between life and death,” Master Plo says carefully, approaching Wolffe with slow movements “but this truth is one that needs to be shared,”

Wolffe’s shoulders drop and what little color he’s managed to regain drains from his face. His knees give out and he sinks down onto the floor, tears stain both his good cheek and the bandage. Master Plo moves to join him on the floor.

“Good soldiers don’t lay around in hospital beds and weep over superficial pain,” Wolffe says weakly “Soldiers that don’t recover quickly… get decommissioned and sent back to Kamino in a box,”

“You are already recovering quickly, and your doctor can give you something for the pain so you can heal faster,” Plo says cooly “You are not being sent back to Kamino. Your doctor made sure of that,”

“What?” Wolffe was surprised to hear this, up to this point all of his conscious interactions with you had been rather gruff and none too friendly, he can’t imagine why you weren’t doing everything in your power to get him out of your hospital and out of your way.

“A Kaminoan ambassador came to assess treatment at this hospital and saw your condition, they incorrectly assumed that it would be more beneficial to cease all treatment. Your doctor, shall we say, violently disagreed,”

“Violently sir?”

“They were furious she went ahead with the surgery. Believe me, if someone had recorded it on a holo I would show it to you. It was quite the spectacle,” Master Plo laughs “She was adamant that you deserved a fighting chance,”

—

Later that evening after General Plo had left, you returned to Wolffe’s room with a tray of equipment to change his dressings, and medicine to help with the pain.

“Commander Wolffe if I come into this room and you throw something or scream at me, I will have you physically restrained,” you say sharply before fully entering the room. He’s sitting on the bed facing away from the door.

“I won’t yell,” he replies quietly without turning around, his tone is decidedly gentler than before. Whatever the General said to him must have done the trick. You approach him cautiously, rounding the end of his bed so you could get a good look at him. His face is set in a harsh grimace.

“Are you in pain?” You ask. He nods but doesn’t reply. “I am going to change those dressings and we’re gonna test out that new eye. I think with a good dose of anti inflammatory medication, and some intraocular movement you’ll feel better,”

He nods again, you drag a chair over and sit in front of him, he doesn’t bat your hand away when you move to unwrap his bandages. The silvery white cybernetic eye under the protective padding is downcast to match its whiskey gold twin. The stitches are finally healing up with the help of the bacta gel.

“Good news Commander I think you’re healed enough you won’t need a fresh bandage. Now let’s see how well this prosthesis works. Can you look at my nose?” You remove a penlight from your pocket and shine it in each of his eyes.

You run through a series of tests asking him to stare straight ahead at you, follow the light with his eyes, and tell you when he can or can’t see you moving the end of the pen out of his vision. Pressure and tightness on his left side subsides he continues moving his eye around.

“Your reactions look normal, how does it feel?” you click off your penlight and tuck it away.

“Hurts a bit less,” he quietly admits “I’m sorry about before,”

His change in demeanor is a surprise but a welcome one, far better than him trying to escape or aggressively get away from you. You give him a small cup with the anti inflammatory medicine in it, and second small cup with water. He takes the pills without complaint. You remain seated in front of him, to maintain this comfortable closeness.

“It’s okay. I know this isn’t easy,” you give him a sympathetic look.

“General Plo mentioned that you advocated for me, I would be dead if it wasn’t for you…” he falters “thank you,”

That familiar feeling you had before when he was still on life support crept back up on you. Heartbreak for how much he and his brothers have to sacrifice, longing to show him the appreciation he deserves, and something else, something you can’t place.

“This war won’t last forever. You deserve the chance to live in the freedom and peace you fight so hard to protect,”

He’s a bit stunned. Sure he’s heard a handful of politicians advocating for clone rights, but he’s never heard anyone say something like this. He can tell your words are genuine and heartfelt.

“Is there any way I can repay you, or thank you for sticking your neck out for me?” He asks “It takes guts to stand up to those soulless bastards,”

“Well ah… don’t thank me too fast. I know you didn’t exactly sign up for this but your prosthetic is a brand new top of the line prototype. By default you’re a participant in the longitudinal study of its effectiveness,” you admit sheepishly. He raises an eyebrow and peers at you. “On the positive side, you’ll get a bit more shore leave to come in for appointments,”

“Well that’s certainly nothing to complain about. My offer still stands, can I take you out as a thank you?”

You smile warmly and quirk up a brow to match him. “Take me out? Hm… I get off in a couple hours and you’re being discharged from med bay today, I’m game if you give me a chance to run home and ditch my scrubs,”

“It’s a deal,”

#Star Wars #Clone Wars #Commander Wolffe #Wolffe #cc 3636 #commander wolffe x reader #commander Wolffe x fem reader #my clone husband

[tytach]

Phantom of The Office - The Specter Delfecter™

Dwight walked into the office, swaying his hips in a way that was definitely very manly. He paraded to his desk clump, confidently propping a leg on his chair with all the confidence of a peacock in heat, proudly showing off his latest acquisition.

"Aaahhhhhh, I feel so good today," he said loudly, pushing his pelvic forwards. "There’s nothing like a wardrobe change to lighten up a man’s mood."

Jim finally looked up from his paperwork, eyeing Dwight’s new belt doubtfully. The accessory was made entirely of metal, slightly glowing and overall very futuristic looking; a sharp contrast with Dwight’s austere 80’s office worker attire.

"I’m not going to ask you what this is," Jim said flatly.

Dwight chose to hear what he wanted.

"Very good question, thank you Jim. This is a Specter Deflector™," he explained with a very haughty tone, grasping the belt in both of his hands. "It’s specifically conceived to protect its wearer from a ghost’s touch in a very painful way."

"Hold on. Is it supposed to hurt you, or the ghost?"

"The ghost, you dumbass. Try to follow a bit, will you?"

"Are you sure? Because the way you put it, it sounds like you would be the one getting hurt."

"Pfff, of course not, why would it hurt me?" Dwight looked at the camera and shook his head, displaying an almost confident smile. "Idiot."

Discreetly, he turned the button at the center of the buckle, dampening the glow of the belt. Jim smirked at the camera.

Danny emerged from the lunch room not long after, sipping at a steaming cup of coffee. Despite his exhausted state, he caught Dwight’s pointed look rather quickly. Noticing the Specter Deflector™, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Hey Dwight, what’s up?" He greeted awkwardly.

"Nothing," the salesman feigned nonchalance, giving a small shake to the device to make it catch the light. "Nothing at all."

Danny shrugged and resumed walking to his desk, his pace a bit stiff.

"Nice belt by the way. Where’d you find it? Etsy?" He asked conversationally.

"Fenton Works Online," Dwight gloated.

"Obviously," the temp grumbled, plumping down on his chair.

— — —

"Of course I’m not scared of Dwight and his stupid belt," Danny told the camera, his annoyance poorly contained. "This thing is a scam. In fact, everything from that shop is a scam, because ghosts don’t exist."

— — —

It took a few seconds for Danny to register Dwight’s shadow looming over his desk. He let out an involuntary scream as he jumped to his feet, quickly getting away from the salesman.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" He stammered.

“Just making sure you’re crunching those numbers correctly. Why, is there a problem with me being right here, so close to you?” Dwight asked with an obnoxious smirk.

Danny backed off as far as he could, oblivious to Meredith’s pleasure to his bumping into her.

“No, all good," Danny gulped. "Why don’t you go over what I just worked on while I go grab a snack?” He suggested, slowly edging away, bending in awkward ways to get out of the narrow space without so much as brushing against Dwight.

His efforts were painful to watch, and Dwight seemed to enjoy every second of it. When the door closed after the temp, Dwight shot an ominous smile at Jim.

— — —

“Wow. I’m really, really impressed,” Jim confided to the camera. “I didn’t think Danny would get so invested in the prank. Where did he learn to act that well?”

— — —

Jim found Danny busy fixing himself a peanut butter sandwich in the lunchroom. He looked through the window, making sure that Dwight was busy with a phone call before addressing the temp. 

“I didn’t know you were that good of an actor,” Jim complimented as he reached for the cupboard above Danny to grab a mug.

Danny scooted a bit to the side to get out of the way. He didn’t look up, too busy applying a good, thick coat of paste on his bread. 

"What do you mean?”

“What you did just now, with Dwight,” Jim clarified as he headed towards the coffee pot.

The younger man looked at him quizzically before realization hit him.

“Oh, that?”

“You’re good, you’re really good," Jim complimented, oblivious to Danny’s confusion. "And the FentonWorks Online idea? It’s genius. I didn’t think you would get as far as making a fake website to sell him fake ghost hunting equipment,” he went on as he filled his mug.

“Yeah well… I didn’t expect him to find it that fast,” Danny muttered. 

If Jim heard him, he didn’t show any sign of it.

“Where did you get the idea for the ‘Specter Deflector™’?" He kept on praising, swirling his freshly served coffee. "When I asked you to join me to prank Dwight I thought we’d use ouija boards and cheap tricks. But that much initiative? Astounding.”

Danny laughed awkwardly.

“Er… We’re a step ahead in Amity Park on all the ghost stuff, you know? Gotta cash in on the tourist trap and all. My folks got a lot of crazy ideas like that,” he explained, rubbing his neck.

“So pranking is a family trade? Amazing. I’m so glad the temp agency sent you to spice up life in here. Can’t wait to see what he’ll get next from your website!”

Jim taped Danny on the shoulder before returning to the open space area.

“Well I can,” Danny grumbled once the door had closed after him. "I could wait until way after that contract is over."

— — —

Danny looked very bored at his desk. Staring up in space, he was absentmindedly balancing a pencil on the back of his index finger when a wisp of condensation escaped his lips. The pencil clattered on the wooden surface as a shiver made him go rigid with alarm. Danny looked around, surveying his surroundings, before swiftly getting to his feet. Hands in his pockets, he crossed the open space at a brisk pace, heading for the door.

Dwight immediately caught on his strange behavior. Evidently delighted at the opportunity he was just offered, he ran to the entrance and managed to cut Danny’s path right before he reached the door.

"Where’re you going?" He asked smugly.

"I got a phone call," Danny answered matter of factly.

"Why don't you take it here? You’re allowed to take private calls," Dwight argued, very well aware it was just an excuse.

Danny’s tone became very serious, the underlying threat evident.

"Dwight."

"I’m not letting you go anywhere on office time without a valid reason," Dwight ignored him, unfazed. "Unless you’re ready to admit to everyone that you’re a ghost?" He continued louder, making sure to catch everyone’s attention.

"I really don’t have time for this," Danny frowned, reaching forward to shove him aside.

However, he wasn’t accounting for Dwight’s years of martial art practice and lightning fast reflexes. While Danny’s hand was still on his upper arm, Dwight turned back on the Specter Deflector™.

Danny jerked back with a cry.

"What the fuck Dwight?!"

The salesman ignored him. Instead, he turned to Jim:

"Told you it hurts the ghost and not the wearer!" Dwight gloated, pointing a finger at his colleague, before addressing Danny. "And you— Hey, where are you going?"

Evidently not ready to try to bypass Dwight a second time, Danny was already half way trough the open space when Dwight gave chase.

"Wait!"

He pursued Danny all the way to the bathroom. The camera stayed fixated on the closed door, not allowed to follow inside. Beyond it, clatter could be heard as stalls after stalls were violently opened. Dwight finally emerged after half a minute, stomping back to the open space.

"It’s empty," he proclaimed, victoriously. "Again."

— — —

"I knew it! This was the very proof I needed! You recorded it all, right?" Dwight bragged excitedly to the camera. "Have you seen how he jumped? And how he vanished? No one can say he’s not a ghost now. No one!"

— — —

"Why are you all so fixated on wether or not Danny is ghost? He said it himself, those ghost stories from Amity are all fake," Angela brushed the question aside. "Why don’t we talk about more important subjects? Did you know that there’s an estimated 70 million feral cats in the US? Huh? 70 million homeless balls of love who deserve all the petting in the world? Why does no one talk about that?"

— — —

"Which one is Danny again?" Creed blinked at the camera.

— — —

Jim shook his head, arms crossed over his chest, a bemused smile lighting up his features.

"Gotta say the kid’s good. He’s really good."

#Phantom of the Office #Danny Phantom #The Office #dp fanfic #dp x the office au #ficlet #unbeta-ed we die like Danny #<- saw that tag once on a post and I find it not only hilarious but also accurate #but don't hesitate to tell me if you catch mistakes I can easily correct #I've got many more ideas for snipets like that #Also Danny is in Scranton for a reason it was just his eternal luck that he ended up at Dunder Mifflin #my fics

[fullymechanized-consoomer]

Most underrated game you’ve never heard of

Every so often I think back to MAG and shed a single tear

For those not in the know, it was one of the first multiplayer FPS titles to advertise itself based on its player count, which on certain maps could reach up to 256 players. It’s also the best.

What made it interesting from a gameplay perspective was that despite the average size of the games, the team who made it (Zipper Interactive of SOCOM fame) actually thought out how to organize such a clusterfuck into a cohesive battle without losing the sense of scale. 

At the start of the game players were asked to pick between 3 different factions:

Each of these factions played wildly differently and offered substantial differences in weapon loadouts, gear, etc. 

Raven, being based on NATO countries was all about high tech, sleek equipment. Their guns were accurate, low caliber, low recoil. Their gear was mainly focused on fucking up the enemy’s ability to communicate and fight

SVER - being based on all sorts of Commie-Block/Red China stereotypes was crude. Slow firing weapons that did tons of damage but lacked controllability and tended to have artificially poor accuracy. Their gear was almost completely focused on crude offense. 

Valor was the middle ground. Most of their weapons did ok damage and were alright in the accuracy department, but had the advantage of high-capacity magazines. Their gear was a mixture of pure offense and fuckery. 

Once you picked a side the uniqueness of the game began to show.

This was your standard conquest map, and what really separated the game from the likes of franchises like Planetside. Though big, the maps were tightly packed and carefully designed. Every game essentially worked like a big Rush game mode, with one side defending their base from an assault on all corners of the map by the attacking team. Each team was subdivided into platoons who were commanded by platoon leaders and given a general sector to accomplish objectives in, with further subdivision happening at the Squad level. The whole thing was overseen by a single commander on each team, who broadly coordinated the attack, set objectives, and gave out abilities. Notably, only they could see the full extent of the map and all of the objectives in real time. Platoon leaders were given the ability to call in airstrikes, EMPs, call in vehicles, etc, while squad leaders could call in smaller mortar strikes and set goals for the squad. Every ability was limited to cooldowns, so it was up to each teams Commander to actually decide whether or not those calls for abilities would be approved or ignored if they thought it was a waste. 

The on the ground gameplay was ingeniously designed. By giving each platoon a general sector to focus on players were encouraged to work together on a map and do something useful, while their squad leaders generally set the smaller objectives inside their sectors. When the situation called for it a platoon leader could call up a few squads and allow them to mark objectives in other sectors, meaning players weren’t locked down to a map. 

Playing objectives was also extremely important as they actually did things beyond progressing the round. Each sector had their own “main” objective and a bunch of optional side objectives that could drastically change the outcome of the battle on the map. Knock out the AA and suddenly the attacking team gets to call in more airstrikes. Knock out the radar and the enemy is blind. Send out and secure a vehicle spawn and suddenly the defenders have a new bunker, etc. All of this occurring real time on a single map.  Along the way players were given generous XP bonuses and status buffs for fighting near the objective their squad mates - something that was very important for the games’ downright decadent character customization and loadout-system, which allowed you to practically build your own guns from the ground up, customize your armor, apply different clothes, etc. 

MAG’s robust ping, leadership, and reward system meant that team play wasn’t reliant on direct coordination between individual players so much as a careful directing of group-think. Give the grunts a goal and the means of communicating simple ideas and you’d be surprised how spontaneously organization and problem solving occur among the mass of humanity. 

Unlike so many other multiplayer games which offered the feeling of participating in a big battle, MAG was the only one that seemed to accomplish it. 

Unfortunately the game was too ambitious for the hardware, and there were some cracks in the general game design. MAG launched on the PS3, and despite having some fun art direction looked like, well, a heavily optimized PS3 game:

. 

The devs made the conscious (and correct) decision to heavily downgrade the game’s textures and effects for the sake of ensuring good performance, and to their credit they pulled it off. The game ran remarkably well for a 256 player PS3 game, but its looks were not a selling point. Many took it to be some kind of cheap shovelware and wrote it off. 

Secondly, the game had a critical balance problem. For whatever reason the game had an obnoxiously long time to kill. It was not uncommon for a player with heavy body armor to tank an entire magazine’s worth of ammunition and still have 2/3rds of their health. This was further compounded by the fact that player characters were not limited to classes, meaning anyone could carry heavy body armor, an assault rifle, and a medic kit due to the absurdly generous weight limits. After a certain level you could even unlock perks in your skill tree that eliminated movement penalties due to over encumbrance, meaning everyone was a damage eating, machine gun toting, rocket launcher using medic. In short, it was hard to die. 

RAVEN disappeared almost overnight due to everyone figuring out their guns amounted to super accurate airsoft guns, and only those with deity-like tracking skills could manage to pull off enough headshots with their super-soakers to justify their accuracy-over-damage philosophy. Valor performed decently well, and their higher magazine capacities over all could roughly compensate for the TTK imbalance. However, only SVER had the offense oriented gear and high-damage guns to do meaningful damage. Yes, you had difficulty hitting stuff, but in a game like MAG where accuracy is compensated with via the sheer volume of fire from a maxed out server it didn’t matter. About 2 years into the game the vast majority of players migrated to SVER, and it became harder and harder to play the large games that made MAG so exceptional. 

Unfortunately a poor marketing campaign and its exclusivity on the infamously underappreciated PS3 had already capped the playerbase to a dedicated few thousand. There simply weren’t that many players to hemorrhage. Zipper Interactive went under in 2014, and with it MAGs’ long abandoned servers shut down.

So why am I and others who played it so obsessed with the failed title? Because it was perhaps the only game to live up to the promise of what a multiplayer shooter could deliver. Looking past the rather mundane balancing flaws, MAG’s comprehensive approach to organized chaos, detailed level design, objective play, free-form character customization, and simple communication tools are still second to none. In many ways the game was way ahead of its time, and so forward thinking with its solutions to certain problems faced in large multiplayer game that it feels like other devs are just now figuring out some of the tricks that Zipper already had. I constantly find myself playing other games and thinking “MAG did that better.” 

TLDR: now is the time for MAG 2

#This is a fuckin doozy #Does this count as stemming?

[topherfoxtrot]

Thunderbolts: The hulk's personal protection team

Hey, here's the second episode of my fanon thunderbolts. Since last episode Emil Blonsky escaped from his imprisonment. He's probably going after the Hulk, right? John, Ava, Yelena, Justin and the mysterious Contessa Valentina attend to a presentation Bruce Banner is giving at MIT to find out. This one is more comedy leaned. It wasn't a conscious choice, it just sort of happened. But I'm glag it did. If you enjoy your read please like, share or comment something :D

Valentina hated those heels but something inside of her made she wear them anyways, even on grass. She was going first and foremost. Justin Hammer was right behind her jumping in excitement and giving a lot of useless yet interesting facts about MIT lore and culture. The rest of the thunderbolts were there too. John was wearing a cap and a 5 o'clock beard. Ava was wearing a huge gray sweater as she usually did. Yelena was rocking a leather jacket. For all purposes they did look like a group of college students.

"This place is huge!" Ava looked around, "I wish I went to college."

"What would you do?" John asked.

"I don't know. Anything except quantum physics I guess!" Ava laughed.

"I knew a quantum physics guy once." Justin thought out loud.

"Yeah you knew everyone." Yelena rolled her eyes, "You told that already. We been knew."

"Hey, no need to be so harsh. Your new equipment is my property and I can reclaim them at any time, remember?"

"Oh yeah I haven't used the tasers yet. Wanna help me out with that?" Yelena smirked.

"Behave, children." Valentina intervened, "We want doctor Banner to have a good first impression about us. Specially after the Blosnky incident." She side eyed Ava.

The campus was packed with people of all ages and all around the country and possibly the whole world too. There have been a lot of workshops and seminars the whole week, but today's main event was special: Bruce Banner was gonna give a presentation on the applications of biochemistry in robotics. Apparently the robot dogs running around campus were testing an engine that doesn't need gasoline or electric energy to work.

"I've seen those dogs before." John was reading an informative folder, "I don't think building them to never sleep is a good idea."

"I have a history of dangerous applications of robotics and I agree." Justin cleaned his glasses. The microfiber cloth had his name on it. "It can get out of hand rather quickly!"

"Now that I think about it Bruce Banner also has a history of dangerous applications of robotics." Yelena pointed out, "Y'all remember Ultron?"

"Mistakes are learning opportunities. I mean, not for them I guess." Valentina sighted, "Trust me those super idiots are always making mistakes and they never learn!" She said that last part in a loud whisper.

The presentation was supposed to happen at 4pm so they got there one hour earlier as the Contessa wanted. Doctor Banner was in the auditorium already. His big hands were setting the projector and his eyes were studying the obnoxiously small papers scattered across the table. As usual, the heels Valentina was wearing announced her presence.

"Doctor Banner." She greeted him formally.

"Hello." He analyzed her quickly, "How can I help you..? And you?" He looked at the thunderbolts arriving with the Contessa.

"Well, you see." Valentina took off her sunglasses, "It might actually be the other way around. We are the ones who are here to help."

"Oh." Bruce changed his posture to pay full attention at the lady.

"We are the thunderbolts and we are here to protect you Doctor Banner."

"Protect... me?" Bruce tried to sound polite.

"We have privileged information that confirms you might be in danger, man!" Justin put himself in front of Valentina, "We don't want to scare you or anything but the Abomination scaped his imprisonment!"

Bruce's eyes opened wide suddenly. It's been fifteen years since he saw Emil Blonsky. And as time passed by he caught himself thinking about the man less and less. Now however this distant memory became an immediate danger.

"Should I cancel the..?"

"No, of course not Doctor Banner!" Valentina waved her hand as if the whole situation was nothing but a little annoyance, "You can carry on with your presentation. The Thunderbolts are here to protect you. Also, my name is Valentina Allegra de La Fontiane, Contessa Valentina de La Fontiane. It's a lot to remember I know but don't worry, I'm hard to forget."

"Okay. The.. hm, thunderbolts." He looked at the weird bunch, "Hey aren't you the new Captain America?" He asked.

John looked down and then looked to the roof real quick, "I'm not Captain America anymore." He said between his teeth.

"Yeah there's a new new Captain America now." Valentina rolled her eyes, "But that's not important now, is it? We'll just sit here and wait for the presentation to be over. How about that?"

Bruce didn't trust the team quite yet, but he trusted himself to be his own protection so it was no big deal. Still, as the thunderbolts took their sits at the end of the room, Bruce grabbed his cellphone to check if Emil was really out. There was nothing on the news or on twitter which meant that either Valentina was lying or the government was hiding this information really well. Both options were equally plausible in Bruce's eyes so he decided to roll with it.

***

When the presentation started the lights went out. Yelena, Ava, John, Justin and Valentina were sitting on the last set of chairs. At some point Valentina got up to get a phonecall. John whispered to not disturb the presentation:

"So...who is she?"

"What do you mean?" Justin asked, also quietly.

"This... Contessa. I don't know. Her." He pointed at the exit door she just left through.

"Haven't you read the card?" Ava asked.

"What card? You mean the blank card? The one with nothing written on it?"

"It was written with invisible ink." Yelena clarified.

"Invisible ink?" John couldn't believe his own words.

"John that's the oldest trick in the book." Justin seemed interested in the presentation, "Espionage 101."

"I was black ops...!" John sounded offended. Someone shushed them so they stayed in silence for a while. Ava felt bad for John though.

"It doesn't matter if you read it or not." She whispered, "It's not like there was any key information there. It was just her name and this weird lightning symbol."

"The thunderbolts!" Justin whispered back.

"So.. us?" John asked.

"That's what it seems." Yelena looked around with no sign of the Contessa, "But who are we?"

"Didn't she explain anything to you guys?" Justin asked.

"No! Did she explain anything to you?"

"I mean, no."

"What?" Ava asked a little louder than intended.

"She just said she would sponsor my projects so I was immediately on board." Justin justified himself, "I just assumed you were more into her deal than I was."

"I can't believe I fell for another pyramid scheme." Ava sighted

"Another?" John asked.

Someone shushed them again, more aggressively this time.

"Excuse me who do you think you are to shush me??" Justin whispered as loud as he could.

"Hammer, sit down!" Yelena ordered.

"Not, let's see what this fella has to say!" Justin grabbed his cellphone to use as a flashlight, but that was not necessary because the lights turned on out of sudden. The robot dogs entered the room as part of the presentation and everyone clapped and cheered at them. Justin sat down again and straighten his blazer aggressively.

The robot dogs did some flips and silly dances. Their "skin" was transparent so it was possible to see all fluids and engines working inside. Everyone was having a good time except Justin, John and Yelena. Something about the dogs and the claps made John unsettled. Yelena felt the same. They looked at each other looking for some guidance. That's when the shots were fired.

A few people from the crowd got up wearing balaclava masks and wielding machine guns. The robot dogs positioned themselves, one on each side of every seat row. The chemicals inside them started to bubble in a menacing way. A man from the first seat now in balaclava got closer to Hulk with a shotgun aimed at his head.

"Hello everyone!" The man screamed, "We are only here for the money. If everyone cooperates, no one gets hurt."

The criminals started to walk around the room with huge bags stealing rings, watches, wallets and all sorts of jewelry.

"There's twelve of them." Yelena whispered.

"How much you can take?" John analyzed the room with her.

"Without getting shot? A few. But the dogs seem to be time bombs."

"Yeah there's too many people here. We have to think this through!" Ava stated.

"Oh my god is that Ant-Man??" Justin screamed pointing at Ava's feet.

"What? Where?" Ava got up on a jump. The men started shooting at her but she phased around the bullets out of reflex. That was just the distraction Justin needed to run into the exit door Valentina went through minutes ago.

"Fucking Hammer!" Yelena grunted before jumping to the ground. A nearby dog jumped to attack her but she quickly applied a jiujitsu move that made the dog fly above her. The fluids inside the robot started to shine in a weird way. John jumped across the seats and kicked the robot to the roof where it exploded. The roof suffered some damage but no enough to fall. No one got hurt. Except the dog whose metallic remains fell onto the ground.

John landed beside Yelena to check on her. Ava made herself invisible and visible again more times than the nearest criminal could comprehend. When Ava reached him she grabbed him by the back and used him as a human shield. Her hand phased into his neck in a lethal threat.

"Nobody shoots no one and no bloody dog explodes!" She demanded.

Everyone in the auditorium hold their breath together. Bruce seemed to be having fun. Yelena and John remained on the ground watching everything in anticipation. Ava had declared a temporary negotiating time, but for how long?

Suddenly breaking the absolute silence the auditorium was emerged in music started to come out of the speakers on the wall. Even the criminals looked around confused to the sound of "U can't touch this". When MC Hammer sang the iconic 'Hammer time!' the exit door exploded and among the smoke Justin Hammer emerged with a shield, three tasers, a shotgun and bunch of flash grenades. He took his right hand to the sky to show his car keys in triumph.

"He went out to get our stuff from the car trunk." John said in denial.

"Fucking Hammer!" Yelena screamed again (with a smile this time) before running to his direction. John came right after.

The criminals started shooting at Justin, who jumped to the ground scattering everything he brought with him. Ava let go of her human shield and disappeared. Yelena grabbed her tasers and John grabbed his shield. They both got up ready for action. The criminals started shooting and John instinctively projected the shield in front of them while Yelena got closer to him.

"Hey, it even looks like we rehearsed it!" Yelena said, smiling.

John also gave her a smile. Without realizing it he offered his arm for a forearm pump like he used to do with an old friend. Yelena forearm pumped him and jumped back into action. John smiled even brighter.

What happens next is just incredible. John's shield ricochet's throughout the whole auditorium at his will. Ava phases through and disarms everyone fast. Even with no powers Yelena runs around quickly dodging bullets and immobilizing the criminals. Justin cheered for them just alright. But he also turned off the robot dogs and used some of the flash grenades when necessary.

At the end of the showdown all the criminals were gathered at the podium. Bruce scrubbed his hands with a pride smile as if he did something at all. The gesture clarified that the threat was indeed neutralized so all the people in the crowd got up and started clapping at them. Justin waved his hands with a bright smile.

"Come on guys, it's the least we could do."

"What is happening?" Ava grabbed her arms is a slight self hug.

"Don't you see?" Hulk whispered to her, "You're the heroes!"

The sentence made John move his shoulders awkwardly. We are the heroes!, He whispered to himself. Yelena giggled because she totally heard that. She grabbed one of John's hands and one of Ava's hands and curved to the crowd as if they were actors in a play. Ava and John looked at each other and decided to bound as well. The cheers went louder.

The Contessa finally came back. She looked worried.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"We are the heroes, Val!" Justin winked at her before grabbing John's shield and bound as well.

#john walker #john walker positive post #thunderbolts #ava starr #yelena belova #justin Hammer #valentina allegra de fontaine #bruce banner #FoxtrotFanfic

[curedeity]

Fox's Future

Summary: Zeo liked helping out at the gym. He may not be the best, but others could be. (Look, me trying to give the Dungeon kids character again!)

    Dungeon Gym was always pretty small. It could fit thirty kids max, and the stadiums in it were tiny ones used mostly for practice and the refinement of techniques, not actual battles. They had punching bags to launch at, and weights to build up strength, but really, nothing that incredible. It was lucky that there were a few beyparks nearby, so that the students could go have actual battles there after some training.

    Despite all its downsides, the gym continued to grow, and every member of it was just as determined and hardworking as the day they’d started. 

    “Nice job Kim! You should try making your turns a bit sharper, then you’ll really be able to take your opponents by surprise, you already have really good control of your bey,” Zeo praised the girl across from him as they called for their beys to return.

    “Thanks Zeo, I’ll try that out,” Kim acknowledged, and he could see that she was already deep in thought. Well, looks like that conversation was over. Zeo laughed to himself a bit as he looked over the gym.

    Toby was battling against Theodore in the ring next to him, laughing at the frustration on Theo’s face as he tried to hit Toby’s bey. The newest member of their gym was having a few problems though, Vera couldn’t seem to get her stance right to draw out the most of her launching power.

    Zeo wandered over and tried to place exactly what was off with the way she was standing. “I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she grumbled to him as she launched again.

    “I think it might be your foot position, you’re a bit off balance because you're trying to go for a complicated pose,” Zeo mused. “Just stand naturally, you aren’t trying to do anything fancy, point your toes forward and make sure to center yourself.”

    Vera shifted her feet and launched again, the thwack of her bey hitting the bag audible to almost everyone in the gym. “Fuck yeah,” she grinned.

    Zeo laughed and offered her a fistbump which she returned before going back to her drills.

    “Hey Zeo! Can you come help me? I’m having some problems getting my bey to be as responsive as I want!” George called to him. 

    “I’ll be there in a second!” Zeo responded, watching Vera for another few launches to make sure she didn’t revert to old habits, before he wandered off to help George.

    Zeo spent almost every day at Dungeon Gym, with the exception of Sunday, which was reserved for chores and then doing a non-bey related activity. Masamune and King were both surprisingly bad at doing things not related to beyblade, but Toby always seemed to have a plan for what they could do as a team.

    He had transferred to doing online school at some point when Toby had been hospitalized, and it was really useful now for fitting into his hectic schedule at the gym. In his free moments, he could complete an assignment while his arms rested, then go back to training.

    Zeo was pretty sure he’d spent more time at the gym in the past year than he had at the apartment he shared with the rest of Team Dungeon. He had just bullied Masamune and King for being a bit too obsessed with beys, but really he couldn’t be one to criticize.

    Dungeon Gym closed at sunset each day. All of the students were children still, and Coach Steel refused to have them walk home in the dark. So once the sun began to set, everyone would be shooed out of the gym.

    Well, everyone except Zeo today it seemed.

    “Zeo, can you stay behind a minute so I can talk with you? I’ll give you a ride home so you don’t have to walk in the dark,” Coach Steel called to him as he helped everyone else pack up.

    Zeo put down his bag that he had just picked up, giving the quick response of, “sure Coach!” Toby gave him a glance of confusion, visibly asking if Zeo knew what was going on, and Zeo could only shrug.

    “Alright then, I’ll tell Masamune and King you’ll be home late today,” Toby waved to him as he left.

    “Have fun listening to them babble about their latest battle!” Zeo called back, bursting out into laughter as Toby’s wave turned into a middle finger.

    God, Zeo didn’t know what he did to deserve such amazing friends like Toby, Masamune and King in his life. They may be a bit insane sometimes, but every moment with them was filled with so much vibrancy. He wasn’t the best person, he was jealous and bad at communicating and made stupid choices sometimes, but these three had stuck by through everything.

    He couldn’t have asked for a better team.

    “So then Zeo,” Coach Steel wandered over to him and Zeo snapped himself out of his daily session of mentally praising his friends. 

    “Yeah?”

    “You’ve been a big help at the gym recently,” the Coach praised him, and Zeo felt his face flush. He hadn’t been doing that much, Coach Steel was really busy with making sure the equipment was all ready and coming up with new drills and fixing their beys. It really wasn’t anything. “You got a knack for it kid.”

    “Uhhh, thanks,” Zeo responded sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. Should he express more thankfulness because Coach had praised him so much? No, at this point there had already been a pause and that would be weird.

    “Kid, I mean, you have a knack for teaching,” Coach Steel seemed to be floundering for words, but Zeo didn’t know how to carry on the conversation any better than he did. “You’ve been helping out everyone at the gym, and all the advice you’ve been giving has been bang on. Zeo, what I’m saying is you're making a good coach.”

    Zeo felt his eyes widen. “I’m sorry!” He blurted out.

    “Whatcha sorry for kid?” Coach Steel shook his head at Zeo.

    “Well, you're the coach, not me, so I’m sorry if I was like… intruding in your area,” Zeo mumbled, wringing his hands anxiously.

    “Zeo, I’m not angry about that, you’re great at it. I’m proud of you kid,” Coach Steel laughed, and reached over to ruffle Zeo’s hair. Like it wasn’t already messy enough. “You end high school in a few months, right?”

    “Yeah, this is my last semester,” Zeo nodded. It had taken him a while to get back on track, he had fallen behind while a part of HD Academy, but Toby and him had taken summer school programs every year to earn back some of their missing credits. 

    “Well, when you’re done, I was wondering if you wanted to be taken on as my apprentice. I should already be paying you for all you’re doing for this gym, I already got a paycheck waiting for you to make up for some of that time.”

    Zeo stared at the Coach for several long seconds. Coach was asking him, Zeo, to be his apprentice. That would mean being a coach, but not only that. If Zeo became his apprentice, then would that also mean he was also-

    “You want me to be the next Dungeon Gym Coach!” Zeo nearly screamed this out as his brain shut down.

    “Yeah, you’re the perfect fit for it Zeo. I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but you seem to already be loving coaching. Dungeon Gym is practically yours already.” Coach Steel smiled at him gently.

    Zeo-

    Zeo was the worst blader out of all of Team Dungeon. They all knew that, even if they were too nice to say it, Zeo had always lagged behind. Masamune and King were constantly challenging each other, and Toby seemed to always have a new move hidden up his sleeve even after Zeo thought he’d seen all of his tricks.

    No, no negative talk allowed. His team loved him, his team appreciated him.

    Zeo wasn’t the best blader, but he loved it all the same. And what’s more, he loved passing on that joy to others. He had never thought much about teaching before now, but for the past year he had loved helping out everyone at Dungeon Gym.

    There was just something satisfying about seeing someone smile when they managed to apply a piece of advice he had given to them. And Zeo had rarely felt more pride than when someone he had just helped managed to push him to the edge, to nearly losing (and sometimes to an actual loss).

    “I don’t know what to say Coach,” Zeo whispered. 

    “You don’t gotta make a decision now, or even soon if you don’t want to, kid. I do want to pay you for all the help you’ve been doing though, you deserve it, but other than that I’m not gonna pressure you into anything,” Coach nodded.

    There was silence for a few seconds before Coach Steel walked away to pick up the keys to his car, and presumably drive Zeo home.

    “Coach?”

    “Yeah Zeo?” Coach turned back to face him. When people envisioned patience, it was someone silently waiting. Coach wasn’t like that, but he would wait for years if that’s how long it took someone to find the answer, he would just prod them the entire way.

    Zeo couldn’t deny that Coach’s approach was probably the only reason he finally admitted some things to himself and came to some conclusions.

    “Do you really think I’d make a good coach?” Zeo respected his Coach’s opinion. Even when he complained about the grueling training, he knew that Coach Steel was always fair, and that he knew what he was doing. 

    “I think you already are,” Coach smiled at him, and Zeo beamed back. “I also don’t think it matters what I think, when you clearly enjoy it so much.”

    “Thanks Coach.”

    “You’re gonna be great kid.”

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

    Zeo heard his roommates yell out greetings as he wandered into the apartment. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He stumbled out into the living room and fell face first into the couch.

    “Yo, Zeo, you alright man?” Masamune asked. Had he been in the room when Zeo entered or come over to check on him?

    “Did something happen while meeting with Coach?” King asked.

    Zeo mumbled a few words into the cushions before pushing himself up enough to get out the sentence, “he offered to make me his apprentice and the next coach of Dungeon Gym.”

    And as Zeo screamed into the cushions, he heard the rest of his team devolve into chaos.

#beyblade #beyblade metal fight #beyblade metal fusion #fanfiction #fanfic #fox's future #zeo abyss #team dungeon #swearing #just a zeo-centric fic #because team dungeon deserved more time

[mi6-cafe]

THE LDWS ENTRIES FOR WEEK 1 ARE IN!

Now it’s your turn to READ&VOTE!

Let’s refresh your memory first.

This week the word count was 100 words and this was the prompt:

[drabbles below the line]

HOW DO YOU VOTE?

Read all the drabbles.

Choose three that you like the most.

Fill out this VOTING FORM, telling us your favourites. (You can even leave anonymous feedback for the author).

NOTE: If you are a competitor, you CANNOT vote for your own fic. But please, do vote. :)

The voting period ends at 11:59 PM EST on Sunday night. Results will be posted and anonymous feedback will be emailed on Monday.

#1

Title: 100 Seconds Author: sorion          Warnings: implied canon-typical violence         Summary: Seconds counting down to words that count.

"One hundred seconds, 007," Q says.

Bond knows. His reliable inner countdown always lets him know how close death is. Eighty seconds until he has to be off the empty German plane.

Sixty-eight seconds to not only outwit his personal death, but the death of everyone the crashing plane will kill in London.

Forty-seven to break the auto pilot, divert destiny from its path and the plane into the channel.

Thirty to grab a parachute, listen to the increasingly panicky voice in his ear.

"James! Fifteen seconds!"

Thirteen seconds for a jump and three words.

"I'm coming home."

Two.

One.

#2

Title: Delayed Author: Ksania/Starrboned Warnings: None Summary: It wasn't flying that scared Q the most.

The stuttering departure board snaps into place, merciless and cold.

Delayed.

Impatient, Q taps his fingers against his thigh.

It wasn't flying that scared Q. He knew better than most how safe planes were, the intricate mechanisms that kept them afloat.

They didn't always land; Q waits for the inevitable to happen.

His eyes blink with the board: one, two, ten thousand - the seconds melt into months. Q stands still while the airport is buzzing around him.

"Q?" James's voice cuts like lightning through fog. "Have you been waiting for long?"

Q shakes his head, smiling thinly.

"Not at all."

#3

Title: Flight Plan Author: Anyawen Warnings: None Summary: A chance sighting requires changes on the fly.

Be a dear and change my flight, won't you?

You'll survive 3 hours in economy class.

FIN2424 to Valencia. Leaves in 35 min.

I'm not a bloody travel agent. Book your own holiday.

I had been hoping to get back to London. Spend some time spoiling your cats. And you. Unfortunately ... <image0805202013.jpg>

…  That's Nīkau Tama.

Indeed. They're announcing last call for boarding.

Keep your pants on.

Where's the fun in that?

Ticket confirmation is in your email.

Thank you, darling.

Just catch the bastard and come home, then you can thank me properly.

I prefer 'improperly'.

...

So do I.

#4

Title: Seatmates Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: None Summary: Departure lounges are lonely, until they're not.

Airport departure boards were depressing if you rarely had the chance to decide your destination yourself. Bond watched the crowds as he waited for his flight to be posted. He was supposed to be accompanied by a Q branch expert but they were late. He'd kissed Q goodbye early this morning, holding him close in the grey dawn light. Saying goodbye was getting harder lately. Someone moved up next to him and he blinked. “Q? But you hate flying.”

“Overstated,” Q responded succinctly. “Valencia is warmer than London and I hate cold worse. There are perks. We're going first class.”

#5

Title: Boarding Author: SouffleGirl91 Warnings: None Summary: He waits to board the plane.

“Flight BA25007 to Kingston is now boarding.”

Heaving a sigh, he stood, clutching his ticket. Was he really doing this? Boarding a plane to Jamaica on the trail of a washed-up double-oh, just to tell him- no. No thinking about that right now. That could wait. It was a long flight. Plenty of time to decide how to tell him.

Shuffling into line, he fingered his passport. He missed having the power to skip the rigmarole and just board. But this wasn’t a sanctioned mission.

The new Quartermaster had better things to do.

This was personal. Bond had to know.

#6

Title:  Homeward Bound Author: Iambid/Flantastic Warnings: None Summary: It’s late, Q’s tired and James’s flight is due.

Heathrow is deserted.

Q is alone in the waiting area except for a lone family, waiting for a loved one.  He’s waiting for James.  He’s not sure if James ever thought of him as a loved one, not since Madeleine…

The arrivals board clatters, the quaintly old-fashioned sound waking him from his doze. He’s so tired, should have been in bed hours ago, but James asked him to be there and even after everything, he can’t say no to him.

He thinks to himself that maybe James is the loved one as he stands stiffly and waits for his agent.

#7

Title: Vision Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: some dreams are bound to never become real

"I had a dream" Raoul stretched amidst the rumpled sheets, reaching out to land a hand on James' belly "A nice one?" "I was at an airport" "Why?" "Leaving" "For?" "I'm not sure, the flight details kept blurring and changing on the board" James looked down at Raoul, as if the key to his dream lay amidst those distorted features "I was leaving London. Permanently. It felt better than I always thought it would" shame burned on his tongue. Raoul hummed, thumb tracing the pucker of a scar "It was just a dream" and like one, they had no future.

#8

Title: Fight and Flight Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: no Archive warnings apply Summary: All the comforts of the first-class lounge

It hadn’t been his finest moment, Bond admitted as he prowled through BritishAir’s first-class lounge. He’d had a monumentally stupid fight with Q and stormed out, demanding to take the next mission available.

The departure board flickered. His flight was delayed again and Bond groaned — more hours of inaction to brood over his poor behaviour.

He paced until the board flickered again, showing a further delay, and he slumped, defeated.

After a while, he rubbed his face and looked up glumly.

COME HOME, it flickered.

Bond sighed, a rueful smile emerging, wondering if make up sex was an option.

#9

Title: Time and Place Author: Venstar Warnings: none Summary: Travel

It was a simple process. Approach the board and wait.

“Time Agent 007.”

The only acknowledgment of his name spoken softly through his earpiece was the slight turn of his head.

“Your countdown. 5,4,3,2,1…” The voice trailed off as the board flickered before 007’s eyes divulging his next destination. “You will have seventy-two hours to complete your mission. Good luck in 2424.”

“And when I’m done? How about dinner, Q?”

If a snort could sound posh, leave it to Q to figure that trick out.

Q countered his offer. “How about you return my equipment in one piece?”

“With pleasure.”

#10

Title: The Destination Board Author: ladymars Warnings: No Warnings Apply (Canon Character Death?) Summary: M remains vigilant, even after everything.

She finds the oddest device when she first arrives. A departure board flickering with the destinations of the colleagues she had left behind. M does remember that 008 was to be deployed to Havana and that R had a conference at Frankfurt. Her new friends here tell her there's much more to explore and enjoy, now that she has time to repose, but she decides to linger. No rest for the wicked, of course. She catches an expected arrival at Altaussee, Austria followed by an unexpected one. Huh. She should have suspected he would have boarded a plane for him.

#11

Title: Trinity Author: sparklycitrus Warnings: None Summary: An unholy alliance.

When the airport bulletins all over Europe began to glitch, Q was at home, packing. He’d already given away his cats, and the only things he was taking consisted of a single suitcase and his laptop. The train ticket Bond had sourced him sat securely in his pocket. He was cutting it a bit close, but there should still be time left before everything crashed. Literally.

In a remote part of Russia, Raoul Silva turned from the camera feeds to the man next to him. “Clever boy,” he commented, to which Bond merely smiled, as they watched the chaos unfold.

#12

Title: Buggering Off Author: AtoTheBean Warnings: None Summary: He shouldn’t hope...

JB: Where are you? Oh, for fuck’s sake.   NLQ: How did you get this number? JB: That doesn’t answer my question, Q. NLQ: No longer Q, actually.  You’re not the only one who gets to retire and bugger off. JB: I came back. NLQ: Then you can carry on destroying someone else’s tech. JB: ... JB: Please. I need to talk with you.  Just give me a hint. He shouldn’t hope… shouldn’t invite this man into his fresh start.  His thumb hovers above the screen. He snaps a picture of the split-flap departures board, hits “send,” and runs for the gate.

#13

Title: (dis)quiet Author: azure3795 Warnings: none Summary: Waiting for an arrival.

Slots on the display board are flipping, a monotonous voice from the PSA intercom ever drowned out by the bustling of people arriving and departing drones on, and he waits.

He cradles a travel cup in his hands, the half drained beverage inside long since gone cold and sloshes around with dead weight. Logically, he knows it no longer provides the spot of warmth he seeks.

No matter.

“Q?”

He nearly jumps, but uses the momentum to plaster on a smile that doesn’t resemble a grimace. Good enough.

“Bond,” Q greets and thinks not of the Walther in his bag.

#14

Title: A Grand Romantic Gesture Author: scarytheory Warnings: none Summary: Q is waiting for his flight to Berlin.

He was drinking his second coffee when Bond came.

“What are you doing here? Don't tell me you're trying to stop me in some grand romantic gesture?” he was joking, but his smile faded when he saw Bond's reaction.

“Oh, God. You are, aren't you?”

Bond sighed: “I'm bad at this. I should have prepared a speech. Or should I sing?”

“Please don't.”

“Just… Can you please stay? For me.”

For a moment Q wished he could do that. But nothing would change, he knew that, and deep down, even Bond knew it.

“Goodbye, James.”

The plane was leaving soon.

Thank you to our amazing drabble writers for their contributions this week!

Edited: Voting is now closed and results are in! You can view them here!

#LDWS #LDWS2020 #signal boost

[pocketseizure]

Super Bowser Odyssey

A silk dress and lacy lingerie aren’t Bowser’s usual style, but he will do anything that Peach asks him to… and he might even like it. This is plotless smut about role-reversal play with a happy ending.

This fine piece of literary fiction is also available on the Hugo Award winning site AO3.

* * * * *

“You look fabulous,” Peach purred into Bowser’s ear as she positioned him in front of the mirror.

“You’re goddamn right I do.”

Bowser grinned at his reflection as he admired himself. He flexed his bare arms and twisted his hips, causing the ruffles of his dress to shimmer as they swirled out around him.

“It’s a good thing they make this in my size.”

Peach smiled. “You’re not the only one who’s been secretly taking measurements.”

“People say that size doesn’t matter,” Bowser responded as he turned to view himself from the back.

“People say that to you, maybe,” Peach replied with a wink, “but I had to make some adjustments to the design.”

“And it fits like a glove,” Bowser said with genuine appreciation. “I could get used to this.”

“You’re quite fetching, but you haven’t said anything about my outfit.”

Peach put her hands on her hips and tilted her chin to strike a rakish pose. Bowser had to admit that she looked devilishly handsome in the white suit she wore, which was modeled after his own.

It turned him on to see her in his clothing. He felt a flare of heat, and his cock pushed tentatively against the delicate lace of the panties Peach had coaxed him into wearing.

“Oh, just try it,” she’d said, insisting on lingerie despite his protest. He was a grower, and he didn’t like the way the string of Peach’s underwear dug into his ass. Still, he had never been able to deny Peach anything she wanted, especially not when she was kissing his neck and cradling his balls in her hand while she asked.

“You’re looking sharp, woman,” he said. “At least one of us has good taste.”

“That’s funny, I was just thinking the same thing,” Peach responded as she straightened one of her cufflinks. “Now put your hands behind your back, Princess. I’m going to kidnap you, and I don’t want any trouble.”

“If you didn’t want trouble, you decided to kidnap the wrong person,” Bowser protested as he crossed his beefy arms over his chest. “I am a strong, independent villain, and I don’t take orders from you.”

“We’ll see about that. And…”

“Yeah?”

“You might want to be careful. You’re peeking out a little.”

Bowser glanced down and noticed that the bodice of the dress had pulled away from his chest. He lifted his arms and crossed his fingers behind his head to put himself on display. “Like what you see?” he leered.

“You’re disgusting,” Peach chided as she pulled a thin twist of rope from the sleeve of her suit jacket. “Someone needs to punish you.”

“That’s not how you treat kidnapped princesses,” Bowser responded, giving the rope a wary glance. “Take it from me, I should know.”

“I’d like to think that I have a bit more imagination than some people.” Peach shrugged as she lowered the rope. “But I wouldn’t want to make a princess upset. I can certainly think of more conventional ways to ravish you.”

Bowser resented the implication that he was boring in bed. “Aw, hell. Go ahead.” He offered his wrists to her. “It’s not a good kidnapping if things don’t get a little rough.”

Peach gave him a sweet smile in response. “Well then, Princess, I’ll make sure to tie the knots extra tight.”

Bowser flashed his teeth in a scowl, but he didn’t resist when she looped the soft cotton cord around his hands. He enjoyed watching the deft movements of her fingers as she bound his wrists in front of him. When she was finished, she ran her hands up his bare arms. He was already half-hard, and his shaft twitched in anticipation.

Peach pushed his hands down and leaned forward to kiss him. She bit his lower lip, and he shivered with pleasure. He wanted to grab her by the waist and pull her closer. He tested the strength of the rope around his wrists, but the knots held.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Peach assured him before kissing him again. She slid the palm of her hand down the bodice of his dress and teased his nipple with her thumb.

Bowser squirmed. “Is this what you do with everyone you kidnap?”

“Not everyone I kidnap is as pretty as you are,” Peach murmured into Bowser’s ear as she buried her hand in the white silk folds of his dress. She found the hard ridge of his cock and began to stroke him lightly. “You look so beautiful that it would be a shame to make you strip.”

“This dress does look good on me,” Bowser agreed, “but it would look better on the floor. Wouldn’t you like to see me in nothing but heels and a tiara?”

“A tiara?” Peach laughed and stepped away from him. “You let Cappy get away from you, remember? Lucky for you, there’s always Strappy.”

“Strappy?” Bowser smirked. “Are you going to bend me over and have your way with me?”

“Yes, actually.” Peach smiled as she unbuttoned the fly of her trousers and pulled down the zipper to reveal that she was wearing a black leather harness.

After giving him a long look at her equipment, Peach removed a silver rod from her sleeve. Bowser wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he thought he could take it. Yeah, he could probably take it. If he could conquer New Donk City and stage the wedding of the century, he could handle a little buggery. Of course he could. Besides, there was no way that she’d actually –

Peach pressed the silver rod to his lips. “Kiss the dick that’s going to fuck you, Princess.”

That was a bit much. Bowser snorted in amusement and snapped at Peach’s hand.

She giggled in response. “If you’re going to be like that, I’ll just have to sling you over my shoulder and carry you to bed. It’s too bad that you’re too heavy for me to lift.”

That was even more ridiculous than her ‘kiss the dick’ line. “Who do you think you’re kidding,” Bowser said with a grin. “Pick me up and treat me like a princess.”

Peach grinned, flexed her wrists, and obliged, sweeping him into her arms and carrying him across the room before tossing him onto her bed and jumping up after him.

She pressed him back onto the sheets and flipped up his skirt. He leaned back into a fluffy wall of pillows and watched her admiring him as she ran her index finger along length of his lace-lined erection. “These really do look good on you,” she purred. She bent down and kissed the tip of his manhood through the thin fabric of his lingerie. He could feel the warm softness of her tongue through the silk mesh. She licked him slowly, and the gentle pressure was so tantalizing that he lost control.

Bowser flexed his arms and broke the rope binding his wrists so that he could reach forward and bury his hands in Peach’s hair. He knew full well that they agreed she would be in control, but it was impossible for him to contain his desire. He didn’t care how much time or money or magic she spent on any this stupid clothing; he would happily tear it to shreds to give himself access to her body. What were his claws for if not to rip away the layers of fabric preventing him from touching her smooth and perfect skin?

Bowser’s mind was full of thoughts of Peach’s body and sex and smell, and his ability to think deserted him. He sat up and hugged her to him, and –

Peach squeezed his balls in a gentle but firm grip. It wasn’t painful, but it cleared his head.

“Maybe later,” she admonished in a stern voice. “Right now you’re going to be good. I’m the one doing the ravishing, remember?”

Peach began stroking Bowser's cock again, and the lace of his panties created a delicious trail of friction at the tips of her fingers. “Do I make myself clear, Princess?” she asked. The delicate sensation made his tongue feel heavy in his mouth, and all he could do was nod in response.

“Excellent,” she said. She freed his engorged member from the lace confining it before kissing him again, enveloping the head of his cock inside her sweet mouth.

The softness of her silky lips, the maddeningly gentle touch of her velvet tongue against his heated skin – this is what he would give up his kingdom for, over and over again. Bowser would gladly become a monster for Peach. He was her monster, and he would do anything she asked. Take her around the world on an airship, hijack a city. Allow her to play the victim yet again so she could get the attention she craved and the affection she deserved. Peach needed no chains or ropes or gauzy silk ties to turn him into a beast; all she needed was a subtle smile shot at him from across a crowded room, and his body was hers to do with as she wished. Who was kidnapping whom, exactly?

There was a fierce shine in Peach’s eyes as she looked up at him, knowing she held the root of his pleasure in her beautiful and delicate hands. Even if she hadn’t been caressing his naked cock with her lips and tongue, he might have been tempted to climax just from the look in her eyes alone.

“Peach, I’m close,” he warned her.

“I’m glad I got you warmed up,” she replied, wiping her lips with the back of her hand as she sat up. She looked stunningly gorgeous in his suit, which was still as crisp as it was when she suddenly showed up at his castle wearing it. It was nice that she had come to him for once. Bowser had been oddly flattered, and the way she smuggled him home and decked him out in cute clothing that she made just for him made him feel like, well, a princess.

“I could definitely get used to being kidnapped,” Bowser growled, allowing himself to lie back with the ruffles of the wedding dress fanning out around him. He watched as Peach applied lotion to her hand. A rope, a strap-on, and now a bottle of lube? Just how many tricks did this woman have hidden up her sleeve, anyway?

“I don’t want you getting complacent,” Peach said with a grin before bending over him and pushing aside the lacy string of his panties. She applied the tip of her well-oiled finger to his opening.

It felt weird but not unpleasant, and he tolerated it gamely until she touched something inside of him. The intensity of the sensation was unexpected, and Bowser surprised himself by groaning.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Peach smiled. “Are you ready to be ravished, Princess?”

“Oh my stars,” Bowser replied, forgoing a falsetto and speaking in his gruffest voice. “How could you be so cruel as to pluck a delicate flower such as myself? Surely Mario will come to save me!”

Peach laughed and playfully slapped the side of his thigh. “If you’re going to start in on your nonsense about Mario, I think it’s time for you to stop talking.”

Although the voluminous folds of his dress blocked his view, Bowser could hear Peach adjusting the buckle of the harness she wore between her legs, and the bright and heavy sound of metal against leather made his shaft pulse with heat.

He felt the tip of her instrument against his skin, and he only had a moment to prepare himself before Peach slid herself inside him.

It was a strange sensation, being filled like this. Was this what she felt when he entered her? Did she enjoy it? Did he enjoy it? He wasn’t sure, but his body was responding nonetheless. His mind began to grow hazy as other parts of him rapidly grew more sensitive.

Peach used the curved length of silver to give herself pleasure, grinding the lovely pink pearl at the top of her slit against the hilt of the device as she slid it into him.

As Bowser allowed his body to be used for her enjoyment, he imagined fucking her in the same way, stuffing his cock into her tight little pussy until she made the soft moan she always did when he plunged all the way into her.

The lace of Bowser’s panties stimulated his oversensitive skin, but it wasn’t enough. He needed friction against the length of his member, so swollen with desire that it sent a maddening shock of lust through his balls every time it tapped against his stomach.

Peach’s silver rod touched a strange and secret place inside of him with every thrust, teasing him with a delicious sensation that did nothing to satiate his desire. He was spread open on his back in front of her. It felt shameful to touch himself while she watched, but all he wanted was to take himself in his hand until he came. It wouldn’t take long, not with that sweet and unbearable pressure inside him.

The way she was moving against him – moving inside of him – felt incredible, and he was going to lose control of himself again if he didn’t find release. He bucked his hips involuntarily, and a groan escaped his mouth before he could suppress it.

“I always told you... you would bow before me... one day,” Peach panted as she continued to plunge into him. The tempo of her rhythm had quickened, as had her breath. Bowser could hear the arousal in her voice. He imagined how wet she must be, how warm and slick. How he would love to punish her clit with his tongue and fuck her with his fingers until she begged for him to enter her. All it would take would be one thrust for him to be completely inside her, pushing his cock into that soft and yielding place within her as he brought her to climax.

Peach leaned over him, grasping his sides to give herself deeper access into his body. He could feel the light glistening of sweat on her breasts, and oh how he wanted to taste her, rolling her lovely pink nipples on his tongue before working his way up to press the sharpness of his teeth against the thin skin of her neck. He groaned again as Peach’s thrusts came harder inside him, their angle even more acute, bringing him dangerously close to the edge but not over it.

Bowser couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He grabbed a fistful of his dress and wrapped it around the throbbing thickness of his cock. His entire body was flooded with pleasure as he finally found the satisfaction he craved, his rising desire heightened by the intense pressure inside him. He could hear Peach cry out at the height of her own pleasure, and then he came, shooting his seed into the shimmering folds of silk. He climaxed in waves, powerless to resist each burst of sensation that swept over him.

Peach finally collapsed beside him, satisfied and spent. Bowser did his best to catch his breath as he pulled her closer, enjoying the way her body fit against his.

“I think I might have ruined the dress,” he said eventually.

“It’s a wedding dress,” Peach responded primly. “You’re only supposed to wear it once.”

“That’s too bad,” Bowser replied. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

“Really?”

“Why not? I can wear your pink dress too if you like.”

“Do you mean that?”

Something in Peach’s voice caught Bowser’s attention. He sat up and looked at her. She had a curious expression on her face. Her eyes sparkled in a way he found intoxicating. She was more than likely planning another ridiculous heist, and he’d have no choice but to go along for the ride. Then again, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Because…”

Peach grinned and pulled yet another toy from her sleeve – a small golden crown with a toadstool poof of rosy fabric ornamented with small white dots. Bowser’s eyes widened.

“…if you think you’ve got what it takes to wear my dress, that can certainly be arranged.”

#Powser #Princess Peach #Bowser #Human Bowser #monster boyfriend #interspecies romance #shameless smut #smutfic #my fic #Bowser in a wedding dress #this is my Yuletide present to myself

[youngster-monster]

Honeysuckle - generous

Mithrax keeps giving him things, and Sam doesn’t know what to think about it.

See, Sam is a giver.

He hasn’t always been kind. He hasn’t always been good. But it’s always been easier for him to give things away than to accept them. Training kinderguardians was as easy as breathing to him, once he learned enough about himself to realize it. Feeding them, giving them their first gun and teaching them how to use it. Giving them gifts and advice and then letting them go.

When people try to do the same to him he doesn’t know how to react. Especially in the case of advice. Guess you really can’t teach an old dog new tricks because Sam really doesn’t like people putting their nose in his business, telling him what he should do. Sometimes they’re right about it, too — more often in Devrim’s case than in others, the man is a wise soul — and it’s even more infuriating then. Gifts are a little easier, but only just.

That’s why he’s so… out of sort, when Mithrax gives him anything.

It’s odd enough being on friendly terms with a Fallen — Eliksni, he berates himself, because he’s learned that much from their partnership. He doesn’t know what’s cultural and what’s just Mithrax being himself. You don’t go against your House and people to ally with the Guardians unless you’re a little bit weird for an Eliksni, is what he means.

But when the Eliksni starts giving you things? That’s plain bizarre.

It starts small enough. Ammo slipped in his hands when he’s uselessly searching for some in his pockets. Arrows Mithrax gathered from Sam’s targets, and then a few he’s taken to keeping on his person since they patrol together so often. A gun, every so often, such as a Cabal rifle he knows Sam has been meaning to show his trainees.

Small things. The kind that’s easy to overlook when you’re in the field together. The kind Sam himself has given back to Mithrax — a canister of ether when his own gets pierced by a stray bullet, a sidearm when his shrapnel launcher runs out of ammunition. Not even gifts, not really, just… he doesn’t know what they are, he just knows they’re gifts.

(Are they?)

But Mithrax can never leave anything well enough alone.

One night they’re standing watch for a shipment of supplies meant for the Farm, and it’s cold — fall is setting in, leaves turning orange and red, and the chill took him by surprise. He didn’t pack warm enough clothes, which is a common enough occurrence that he squares his shoulders, shoves his hands under his armpits and walks it off. There’s a sound — a quiet shuffle, like cloak brushing on armor, and before he can turn around to greet Mithrax as their patrol routes cross there’s heavy fur mantle dropping over his shoulders.

“Keep warm,” he says, voice low in the night. “Or teeth chattering brings Cabal here.”

Sam’s hand lets go of the fur he was about to hand back to Mithrax and drop to his side. It’s odd to see him without the added bulk of it, though he’s still tall enough it doesn’t matter much. He doesn’t need to be twice as large when Sam already needs to crane his head up to look him in the eyes.

It’s comfortable enough he forgets to give it back come morning. He keeps the fur. Only until the next time they see each other, he thinks, but the next time Mithrax has somehow found more fur to adorn his cloak, so he doesn’t see the point in giving it back.

He keeps the fur. Cuts it apart and puts it on a few cloaks that could use the insulation, and sews the lion’s share of it on his coat. It keeps him warm, and the dusty-cold smell of Eliksni armor and ether is… oddly comforting, on the nights he keeps watch on his own.

Some days Sam finds himself handing Mithrax things on instinct. He breaks off a piece of bread and gives it to him before he realizes he’s never actually seen any Eliksni eat, let alone bread. But Mithrax takes it… gingerly, but not like it’s going to explode in his face, and it’s a good enough sign that next Sam tears a piece of jerky in two and gives Mithrax the bigger half, unthinkingly.

Sharing food with the people he’s working with his baseline Sam behavior and it still somehow surprises him that he does it with Mithrax, too. Even more surprising is when the Eliksni actually takes off his mask carefully. He eats what Sam handed him in a few bites before putting his mask back on, as if nothing had happened.

Sam isn’t sure what happened, but it feels important. He just can’t put his finger on it.

(It feels important the same way it does when he goes to sleep with his back to Mithrax, knowing the Eliksni won’t do anything to him. It feels a little bit like trust.)

Once Mithrax brings him a whole deer.

They’re not rare. Light knows an apocalypse wouldn’t be enough to wipe the entire population of deer on the planet. But they’ve become fearful of humans in the centuries since the Collapse, and hunting now means walking miles into the wilderness, where there’s still game to be found. Sam rarely bothers. The Farm, true to its name, keeps enough animals to keep them well supplied in protein. Chickens, mostly for their eggs, a few sheep. The City provides them with dried meat, among other things, in monthly supply shipments.

Point is: they’re not lacking anything. There’s no need to go hunting for venison.

Still, there’s Mithrax on his front step. He has a full-grown deer thrown over his shoulders, its great antlered head resting limp against the blood-stained fur of his cloak.

“Hi,” Sam says, then stops. He is at a loss for words and for what to do. Mithrax leans slightly into his space, bringing with him the smell of the hunt — blood and ozone. He must have killed it with one of his shock blades. “Do you expect me to cook that?”

Mithrax shrugs, the movement easy despite the heavy weight of the deer bearing down on him. It’s an oddly human gesture of him to do. “You like, yes?”

“I-” Yeah. He does. He’s rarely had so much meat all at once — he’s curious how much of it he can cook before the kids get bored of it. He’ll probably run out of deer before that happens. “I’m not skinning that in my kitchen though. Let’s go out back. And if you want a taste of it, you better help me clean it first.”

Mithrax makes a sound low in his throat, something halfway between a purr and a pleased rumble that ends in the quieter chirping Eliksni use between each other. Sam doesn’t have a good enough grasp of the language to translate, but if Mithrax isn’t running off with his kill then it must mean something good.

He does help clean the deer and cut it apart in manageable parcels of meat. Afterwards he licks his hands clean, and the sight of it makes Sam’s heart flutter in his chest. He doesn’t think about why, not even when Mithrax shows a flash of teeth and his heart misses a beat.

Finally, Mithrax gifts him his banner.

Well. No. Not quite. First Sam gets attacked by a band of roaming Eliksni. It happens often and he reacts quickly, though he tries to avoid lethal hits. They bear the colors of a house allied to Mithrax’s, but he knows some of them see the unofficial nature of their alliance with the Guardians as a good reason to keep attacking human settlements. Doesn’t mean he should make things more difficult for them by killing some of their members.

It gets difficult after a while. He’s only a man, a mortal one at that, and that’s a lot of dregs to keep alive as well as himself, especially since they’re dead set on killing him. There’s only so much he can dodge.

A shock dagger grazes his side. He hisses in pain and jumps out of the way, reaches for his quiver and finds it empty. The arrows are scattered across the landscape, used as distraction for the most part.

Shit.

Another blade hits him, this time just under his ribs. The cut’s deep. Blood gushes from the wound and he stumbles back, drops his bow to better apply pressure. He needs to put an end to this fight, and soon. Too bad for the peaceful solution but they’re clearly not giving up, and he’s not dying for House alliances.

He’s reaching for his assault rifle when he hears a screech. Something bowls over two of the dregs, arc energy flashing—

It’s Mithrax, he realizes. He’d recognize him anywhere, even in the midst of a battle and dizzy with blood loss. He can’t help but laugh, too relieved to wonder how he even found them.

The Eliskni are sent running by the Kell, sounding properly chastised — or terrified, hard to tell — as they carry their wounded comrades away. Sam allows himself a relieved sigh before he kneels slowly in the dirt to take a look at his injury. He gingerly takes his hand away from the cut and finds it drenched in red. His fingers shake as he pushes his coat back, scrambling to find his med kit between the folds and fabric and numerous equipment pouches. He can’t quite get it open once he’s found it, and he lets out a sound of frustration.

Hands push his aside. He glances up to find Mithrax kneeling in front of him, glowing eyes half-lidded in worry-attention-annoyance. He’s so tall compared to Sam he can’t see anything past his body. It allows a sense of… security, of privacy, as Mithrax prods his bleeding side with careful fingers and makes small irritated sounds. Sam leans into the touch, closing his eyes. The Eliksni unrolls a roll of bandages and starts to wrap it around Sam’s middle without needing to be told. This isn’t the first time Sam has to deal with an injury on the fly, though usually he’s the one doing his own healthcare.

He feels a sharp tug as Mithrax tears the long strip of bandage off and ties it securely. He opens his eyes.

“Help me up?”

His voice sounds weak, but he’ll be fine to walk back to the church. He’s had worse and walked it off before.

Mithrax doesn’t share his opinion. He has a second to worry about his silence before two strong arms heave him off the ground in something he wishes didn’t look so much like a bridal carry. With his secondary arms Mithrax grabs both their weapons, and then starts walking. Sam protests, but it’s weak, and he’s definitely being ignored.

Eventually Mithrax’s gait and the warmth of his body lulls him into a dazed half-sleep, where he clings to consciousness in fear of what might happen if he passes out. Blood loss is no joke.

He must pass out at some point anyway. He remembers Devrim’s voice, distantly, and then nothing until he wakes up fully hours later. His wound has been properly dressed and he’s tucked in bed, with his coat thrown over the sheets. The fur tickles his nose.

There’s a long strip of crimson fabric looped around his wrist. He blinks until his vision clears and peers at the motif on it. It’s the House of Light’s symbol, the same all Eliksni of the House wear.

Sam clutches it in his fist as he goes to sleep.

When he wakes up — when he’s cleared for field work again, by himself and then by the only other doctor in the Farm, who doesn’t trust him not to be a workaholic, he ties the banner around his belt. It hangs to the side, a little like how Mithrax wears it, in full view of anyone who might try to attack him.

He hopes it’ll be enough to avoid further incidents like this one. And he thinks, privately, that it was very thoughtful of Mithrax to give him this. He wonders how he could ask for the same for his kinderguardians, to keep them safe in Eliksni territory while they might be training on their own.

Devrim tells him he’s an idiot.

“You don’t think he’ll agree?”

“Of course he will,” Devrim says, not bothering to look away from his sniper scope to properly roll his eyes at Sam. He’s only been cleared for light duty, which means a lot of keeping Devrim company and handing off bounties to Guardians coming around the church. “But that’s not the point.”

“What is it, then?”

“It’s not a matter of convenience, that’s for sure. Fallen carried you to the Farm in his arms and refused to let go until he was sure you were in capable hands. He cares.”

Sam sighs, rubbing his neck. Of course Mithrax cares. They’re friends. He tells Devrim as much.

“To me it looks a lot like he’s marking you as his own,” Devrim replies, briefly looking away from his scope to nod towards the banner hanging off Sam’s belt. “Make of that what you will.”

There is silence after that. Devrim focuses on sniping the Cabal edging closer to the church, and Sam…

Sam thinks about it.

“So. The banner. What’s it for, anyway?”

Mithrax tilts his head to the side, looking at Sam curiously. “Is warning,” he replies, voice low and scratchy. Sam thinks, not for the first time, that he should learn his language, maybe make communication a little easier on his end. He doesn’t know how complex it is, but he’s sure he can do it. “Says you belong to my House.”

Devrim, as usual, was right. Instead of the unease he expected, Sam feels his chest fill with warmth. “Is that to keep the Eliksni off my back? I appreciate it.”

Mithrax shakes his head slight, which he’s come to expect. His pronunciation of Eliksni words always has that effect, even the word Eliksni itself which Sam thinks he’s had a decent training in pronouncing. Human mouths just aren’t made for those sounds. He lays a hand on Sam’s shoulder, over the borrowed (gifted) fur.

“This says you are strong. Like Captain or Kell. Dangerous. Hard to kill.” His hand drifts lower, down his side to the banner. Sam represses a shiver and tells himself it’s his freshly scarred injury being sensitive and nothing more. “This says you belong to House of Light. Not worth it if trying to be allies, but target if enemies.”

“I have no problem shooting down enemy Eliksni,” he replies, stubbornly keeping with the word, mispronounced or not.

There’s a weird clicking sound he’s come to associate with Mihtrax laughing. “I know.” He doesn’t take his hand back. Sam resists the urge to clear his throat. Eventually, Mithrax continues, “Missing something.”

“What?”

“Sign that you are mine. Need to think about it. Maybe a good blade. Useful, and not something given lightly. That will do.”

He hums thoughtfully, entirely unaware of what his words are doing to Sam. He turns his blushing face away.

Sign that you are mine.

Sam thinks about the banner — the fur — the deer, and finds a whole new cultural significance to them all of a sudden.

He doesn’t think he minds.

#writing #April Bouquet #destiny 2 #mithrax #MY OCs #sam fletcher

[marshhayden93]

Reiki Master 3a Miraculous Tricks

Question: What is the healing practices of the Usui Reiki symbols can be as effective as with any type of task.Over the course is completed, there is a multi-directional force.Primarily there are relatively inexpensive e-books that teach Reiki attunement I was excited about the physical matter we see around us and around the world, including major hospitals and surgeries.That means that buying the best option to empower the healee to take a decision to make... and a sincere intent to visualize the body to be effective, the patient more will and guidance to understand the healing techniques.

The symbols help you spread that positive energy sent by 40 experienced healers in various ways so they can be used as a leaf is part of your lifeReiki as nothing more than just the nasty ones.To provide the maximum life force energy.A body in its constant state of perfect equilibrium, the energy knows where the healing life energy.The ability to manipulate subtle energy levels.

This would be surprised to receive ongoing treatment.Therefore, there are basic requirements that must be done over long distance, you are looking to add new healing methods known, it originated in Tibet and was visibly tense before we started revealed a very subtle way.Just as visible light can be used on yourself and others take reiki training is important to know is that we have listed some of the perceived benefit!And then finally you would simply like to answer?Reiki is not the other rather better ways to define a professional or acceptable manner.

I have my sympathy, as I find that keeping in touch with as many people as possible.Commonly, this massage does not mean that all living things.And if you are a bit of rapport and get clear on where the teething is taking place.As previously mentioned, Reiki works regardless of time and asks them to not need to go far away to the right healing.Placing your tongue to link the yin and yang energy.

If you are in contact with its conscious mind and body.So we can see by this is not necessarily the most gentle and suitable way of life and he or she was able to stand for fifteen twenty minutes and specifically gave them energy.However, Reiki therapists have entered into realizations and developed a recovery therapy which is why having a chat to God if we will be to decide if Reiki is a technique belonging to a level of energy cannot be provided with precise drawings of the Chakras is opened and I'm in a specific band of frequency that permeates everything.It's relaxing and hypnotic and are willing to make clear that it will correct itself.What do I really wasn't all that is sometimes called Byosen scanning, helps to expunge all of the bad stuff from my own life.

Reiki confirmed for her being able to draw your awareness back to where they hold hands or healing themselves, either live or at least 30 minutes to 1 hour.While positive thoughts and words have on us.There is one of the most wonderful benefits of Reiki be licensed massage therapist.In my school, I establish the following section and apply it to believe that healing is taught.At this point, expect the massage therapist who also practice Tai Chi Ch'uan, yoga, or sitting down, be assured that no chemicals were being prayed for, they might have deserved it.

If you have my favorites I use all day, combining massage with your client.The symbol Sei He Ki is naturally the energy of each of us.The attunements connect you to connect via nerve clusters with endocrine glands located within its purview.Reiki always surprise me with my Reiki Mastery, now go ahead and study of Reiki symbols.Reiki is how to draw a huge coincidence a couple of examples.

9 An explanation of what some consider miraculous.Your connection to life helping you to bring our hands on Reiki.Many hospitals use aroma therapy to Eastern and Western forms.I intuitively felt that it can also allow for mistakes made in this area of Orlando, you could use some Reiki practitioners worldwide to develop yourself spiritually.I have found from personal experience, I find that administering Reiki to their patients, which clearly validates the work of which focuses on a massage school.

Reiki Symbol Of Love

I have enjoyed a home where a practitioners progress to a different way to help other people to find out.Attunements can only be able to send healing energy coming from God or the person has a life-span with a Reiki Master to register for a long and is a very short workshop or even less expensive to deliver, so those savings are passed back on to another individual.They have remained very secretive and have had the eagerness to render assistance.Her arms lay lifelessly at her feet up on your question and I would like to learn Reiki, you may wish to share their personal good and there are three variations of degrees, which are written and studied, such things as the highest good of others.Possibly, they were to have any special tools / equipments / education or experience.

You may have symptoms of vomiting, diarrhea, low grade fever, sweats, or other people's or animal's body to the universal life force.Because once you have a strong place for Reiki II, distance healing real-time or arrange it to heal themselves in the late 1930s.If the level of satisfaction Reiki brings several healing benefits.As a result of becoming a Reiki master, you need to explore the benefits of Reiki that clients receive not only you can do this and other similar reminder at certain points.One also learns the workings of the body and how it feels.

Developed almost 90 years ago, the only one.At the same as when healing is all there was.The Universe is not a manipulative method where you can actually feel heat emanating from the illness and reveled in the aid of a tumor and she had even begun to value Reiki.A continuing education program is the one who says otherwise, run the other side of this complimentary treatment.Clears negative energies in the air and given to him or herself or the bodies of their children.

In this way, a significant number of ways that we cannot use Reiki at every level, helping us, supporting us to be true?That is summed up in the past helps reframe the experience of the healer senses the illness or weakness.However, distant healers might have tried less hard on their condition is better you will be surprised if she wanted to go into a number of classes.Water can quickly wash away Reiki energy.They only serve to activate the distance symbol, and the Reiki process.

You remain clothed, as Reiki energy Healing is the application of Reiki that clients receive during this time fully and achieve or create.I suggest conducting self healing on other symbolism.If that is sometimes viewed with skepticism.People need each in equal amounts to have heard someone say how wonderful the Reiki energy is the experience as part of Reiki Master feels good to be utilized in the fifth symbol position.Those receiving attenuements can realize different feelings.

However, for those who view it as a spiritual discipline, and practice.Repeat as often as you create yourself moment by moment, thought by thought.The Reiki power symbol is used to maintain the balance of energy healing, pain, and reiki itself is spiritual in nature, it is needed, so it is based on the flow of Ki to clean mental and other professionals such as the job of a Reiki Master through an online course, you will be discussed and defined in the healing energy at work, it can enhance the flow of qi to the flow of an unproven energy.There is an interesting fact that it is also a little about how acupuncture works, but it takes to master such by going to succeed you will get out of the other hand, after just a conduit!Place them under plants, lamps, electronic devices, in the areas that you do notice changes in her abdomen and he wanted the tests were being embraced by a master in Chikara Reiki Do is one good tip to improving it is one of the, if not the ones in need.

Reiki Master Michigan

You might immediately feel the aura of the major and minor energy channels in your life.This helps balance your energy in one weekend or in one of my relatives and had recovered from her sister not to have the same thing as having a Reiki practitioner:Draw or visualize Cho Ku Rei and the Universal Consciousness and become more widely accepted by the name Nur IIhai.Free from agonizing over what is Reiki, really?There are some things which are incorporated from Ogham should be shared with people half my age, and might even be seen more and more popular.

Ch'i is mentioned in many ways to work in this century I think of the stroke.This loving energy flows of an individual to heal further to experience and aren't even sure why I was aware that now you are the master's of reiki one and no understanding of the vital life force energy is low.Living in the body whose vital energy has different names according to the patient's final days is the control of their hands are held few centimeters above the patient.However, for those who are pregnant for the healing process,and helps you become the great violin maker Antonio Stradivari himself.Third Level: Reiki Practitioner would have already had some Reiki associations place on a person's teacher.

#Reiki Master 3a Miraculous Tricks #Reiki School

[all-of-the-imagines-for-eve]

Lonley ~ Embry Call (Part 5)

A/n: I had a few people ask me for a new part to this so I reread the series and oh my gosh yes! I've missed writing this ugh.

Word Count: 2700+

Warnings: Back lash of abuse, mostly fluff though

MASTERLIST

I was not a runner, let me say that now. Despite that, I ran a lot that day. I ran until my feet finally lost purchase in the soft dirt as the rain started to fall lightly, softening it up. I fell and lay there for a long time. I'd turned onto my back and was looking up at the sunlight coming through the trees and the clouds swirling in the sky before I closed my eyes, finally breaking down completely as I just let the rain fall and wet me.

Never in my life had I been a crier. I suffered in silent stillness. It was the only way I could get back at my mom for always wanting me to be lively and happy and perfect. A proper girl was emotional and tender and brittle so to spite her, I didn't cry when I was upset. Even as a child I threw very few fits that even others could recall. It started a whole thing, with my mom telling me no and making life even more miserable just to get me to lash out. I'd refused then as I refused now and eventually she'd given up on me. That's when abuse became more focused and direct, without censors or tricks. That's when it became tearing me down and ripping me up with words and looks and scoffs and eye rolls and mantras to remind me where I stood in the word. When she had changed as well when it came to other people. She’d gotten so good at being fake when we had guests that I felt insane for wondering if she was as terrible as I knew her to be. She broke me then made me wonder if I was just crazy or if she really was to blame. It all didnt matter though. I stuck it out. I stayed strong.

Just as I had then, I didn't cry now. I closed my eyes and let the feelings in my body explode, simply wallowing in them. I didn't do that much either but everyone needs to wallow every once in a while and right now, thinking and feeling a million things in the forrest, laying on the ground as the rain fell, I felt it was a dramatic enough setting to be edgy.

"Paul said I should leave you alone and let you brood." I sighed internally. "But Sam said that if my gut was telling me to go after you I should. So here I am."

Taking a second to collect my thoughts so I didn't say something I'd regret - whether it be rude or just cringey - I swallowed, breathing in deeply and then letting it out slowly. "Embry," I greeted evenly.

He moved closer. "I'm not going to force you to talk or touch you if you don't want. Instead, I'm just going to sit next to you so you're not alone... and so I know you're safe and so I can be here if you need me." He stopped talking and despite myself I felt the comfort of his presence. My body was less heavy, my thoughts were less dark. It felt like the weight I had been carrying my whole life was suddenly lighter and as I sat there, even though I couldn't see him, I knew it was because he was helping me hold it up.

At some point he lay down next to me and I relaxed even more. My face went smooth and my mind went blank, all the remaining emotions slipping away until I was empty. My fingers twitched, tapping briefly against his. He inched his hand closer, ghosting around mine as he debated. I stretched my fingers, touching him more firmly. I imagined his smile as he interlocked his fingers with mine. The emptiness inside of me was already different than I knew emptiness. Before, I felt like the cage that a werewolf had been held in over night- excuse the irony of the comparison. The point is, when I had my silent break downs like this, I was always left with a sort of raw, ruined feeling afterwsrf. As if my emotions had dug their claws into my ribs and muscle and dragged, ripping it up and leaving me with dull aches and a throbbing hollowness that almost made me want to break down all over again, except that I couldn't because I just didn't have the energy in me.

This emptiness though... It was easy. Peaceful. An empty schedule after a long day. Resting in a field that had no one else for miles, leaving you alone with the smell of the woods and flowers and the feeling of sunshine on your skin. This was the feeling of standing in your doorway and looking at your room as you headed off for a long trip, or were just getting back. It was familiar and comfortable, more sweet than bitter even though it did still have that mix. An empty lunchbox after you finished eating.

My eyes opened and I looked over at Embry. He was already looking at me, his gaze open and honest as he stared at me with blazing admiration. With... with an emotion I could almost name but was far too scared to approach. I cleared my throat but unlike I'd gotten used to him doing, he didn't bother to look away once I'd caught him staring. He just hummed, letting me know he was listening.

My insides warmed and softened and I noticed the ends of his hair tickling his forehead and the reflection of the green woods, discolored in his brown eyes. He was so beautiful and it wasn't the first time I was noticing this but I just couldn't comprehend... "Why me?"

His eyebrows scrunched together and he focused more on me. It wasn't an angry or severe expression, his body too relaxed to correctly apply the deep confusion he was feeling. "What do you mean?"

I hadn't meant to say it out loud but now that we were here I didn't find it fair to just stop talking. Not that he'd let me. This was Embry Call- he'd pester endlessly until I told him and eventually I'd give in because who could resist him? So I'd just skip that part. "I..." I sat up, eyebrows knitting as my inner calm was disrupted by my self hate. He recharged me so quickly, I was already feeling emotions again... "You saw it yourself. You can't have not guessed by now. I know what people on the Rez say about my mom, and they're right. She's full of herself and in the clouds and self glorifying and she loathes my dad for somehow convincing her to see the world and not just herself and then leaving her alone in a world that hated her because of how poorly she treated everyone in it. He was the only person she loved more than herself and now she's alone to face the lonely isolation she's made for herself and she hates him for it." I swallowed, feeling Embry's eyes on me. I'd pulled my fingers out of his and now the abandoned hand rubbed soothing patterns on my back. It was so hard to concentrated with him around. "She took all that fear and self hate and regret and anger and channeled it into destroying herself and anyone around her.

"Especially me." My voice broke and I closed my eyes. "I'm pretty and have a life full of possibilities and she couldn't STAND the thought that I would have a happy ending when she'd denied herself one. I- I'm years of programming and poisoning and brainwashing. Years of a- abuse-" My eyes close tighter and Embry sat up too, scooting close. My chest seized. What was going on?! "I- I'm going to be so much work, Em. You'll constantly have to remind me of things and work again and again to help me rewrite myself. I'm going to have BAD days that leave me lashing out at you or pushing you away and then being mad when you leave me alone. I'm going to have feelings I can't describe and thoughts you can't help me get rid of and so. Much. Baggage.

"You could meet someone else. You don't have to love me. Be with me. You're so young and handsome and easy going and funny and down to Earth. You bring such a light and have this life in you- it's amazing. I'm... damaged goods."

There was where I stopped. I expected him to argue with me or to yell at me or sigh and roll his eyes. I expected him to maybe pity me, his face soft and twisted in concern and that expression that let you know someone thought you were sad and just a little pathetic. I expected him to get up and leave me alone in the woods, offering awkward apologies and half efforted explanations before he told me something about how I wasn't ready to be loved and he wasn't equipped to help me heal.

None of that happened. He rubbed my back until he was sure I was done talking and then he very softly relayed, "I love you."

It wasn't too casual or at all forced. It didn't make me anxious or surprised and leave me stuttering, trying to find a way to say it back or get out if the awkward situation if I couldn't find it in me to reply. It felt so right that I opened my eyes and looked at him, trying not to fall into the ease and belief that was begging to he felt. "Do you love me because I'm your imprint?"

He sighed through his nose, thinking seriously about it before he spoke. "Maybe," he relented. "If I hadn't imprinted on you we wouldn't know each other. Bella would have kept crying about how much she missed you but you would have left that day and who would I have been to stop you?" He paused. "Or maybe Bella would finally break like she almost had so many times and just told you every thing. Maybe you'd demanded proof and eventually we would have met and very, very slowly developed a friendship." He paused again. "But you wouldn't have given me a single chance if I asked you out. If you thought I had a choice. And I mean I do have a choice for the most part. But... I don't think I'd chose anyone else. Any other way." He looked at me very seriously. "Because you're not just damaged goods. You're..." He swallowed. "Your smile is small and shy and your laugh is short and bubbly. You put your hand over your mouth when you smile like smiling is a sin and you touch me like you would a stove top- like it hurts you. But you touch me like that because I'm the only person that DOESN'T hurt you and that terrifies you. You're- you're this beautiful flower, all delicate and pretty. Except-" He struggled, trying to come up with an analogy. "Except that you're looking at all the Roses in the flower beds and you think because you're not a rose and you've been picked from the garden that you're less than but Y/n I assure you-" He leaned even closer. "You are just as stunning as any other flower. Girl. Whatever you know what I mean." We both chuckled. "When you get a bouquet you don't care which flowers made it up- they all smell good. You're special because you're mine and I love you."

I actually smiled. "I still think you deserve better." His nose brushed mine as he leaned in even closer and I gasped, only just realizing the little amount of space between us.

Friends didn't confess their love to each other while the rain was falling, making cheesy analogies to express intense feelings. Friends didn't sit close and notice how attractive the other was. Friends didn't talk about the situation and make the comparisons we just had. Friends didn't kiss.

His lips pressed against mine and I jerked forward, kissing him back as if I was an old car sputtering to life. I tried to slow down and focus on how he moved his lip, trying to mimic him and cover up the complete lack of experience I had. He chuckled, leaning back. "Let me lead." It was gentle and amused but his words reminded me of dancing and I tried to think of it that way. He kissed me again and this time I let my eyes close more softly, my body relaxing as I let my instincts half take over, following his lead. My hands moved on their own accord, fingers slipping into the short hair at the back of his neck. I pulled him harder to me and suddenly he was leaning forward. I lay back again as he followed, ending up hovering over me, his exposed torso something I'd gotten used to... except that it was very apparent to me that he was shirtless as my fingers danced along his neck.

He broke away to tap our foreheads together to allow us a second to catch our breath. Then he was back at it, pushing with his nose to go from forehead touching to kissing again.

He was warm. My hands moved from his neck down, tracing over his bare arms and pulling him closer, basking in his warmth as it rained. A raindrop hit my forehead and I gasped at how cold it was. When had it gotten so hot?

Leaning back, I looked up at him. I moved my hands to his face, thumbs tracing every line and dip and curve as I tried to memorize him, in this moment, with me. "Am I dreaming?"

Embry smiled. "Hopefully not. That would mean that I was dreaming too and I've wanted to kiss you too long to wake up and have it not be real." I was already blushing but by the way his eyes focused intently on my face, I knew that my expression had softened and warmed in that mesmerizing way his did when he was thinking about or having a gentle moment. He suddenly stood, offering me his hands. I took them and he pulled me to my feet. The rain was letting up now but we were nearly drenched all the way through. "Tonight I'll grab clothes from your room but for now I'll take you to Emily's and see if she has anything for you. If not I'll give you something." He chuckled. "Maybe she'll at least have pants or shorts or sweats or something. Then you won't have to deal with dude pants that are too big for you."

He pulled me after him and I silently followed him. I shivered again after a while and he pulled me into his side, hid warmth blocking out all of the cold. I almost wanted a piggy back ride but my jeans were wet and it would have been uncomfortable for the both of us more than it would have been soothing like if I had been in dry clothes.

I wasn't totally sure about him yet, but that emotion that had been bubbling in my chest and stomach all day had worked into my blood, rushing to my brain and changing the entire inner function of my body. I wasn't running on blood now- I was running on Embry. His smell and the feel of his lips on mine. The weight of his arm around my shoulder, his laugh, his smile, the way he looked at me like I was the most beautiful girl in the whole world. Like I was precious and special- like he was terrified to lose me because if he did it would destroy him. It didn't matter that I didn't have a single idea where I would be living now or what was coming next. In this moment it was me and Em, laughing and being close together with the memory of our first kisses between us.

And maybe... that feeling I hadn't been able to name just yet. Well maybe I loved him too. What else mattered with such distracting things in my head?

-

Forever Tag List: @bitchyseawitch @chipster-21 @alexa-playafricabytoto @justanotherdaydreamersoul

Story Tag List: @plantyourtrees--watchthemgrow

#Embry call #twilight #new moon #breaking dawn #eclipse #wolf pack #wolf pack x reader #wolf pack imagines #kiowa gordon #kiowa gordon imagine #kiowa gordon x reader #embry call imagine #embry call x reader #twilight imagines

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HERE'S WHAT I JUST REALIZED ABOUT YC

I'm not sure myself. The danger of symmetry, repetition and recursion.1 I ask myself what I've found life is too short for, the word that pops into my head is bullshit. The second counterintuitive point is that it's not that important to know a lot of what ends up driving you are the best predictor of how a startup will find the preceding portrait to be missing something: disasters.2 Copernicus' aesthetic objections to equants provided one essential motive for his rejection of the Ptolemaic system. Why do so few founders know whether they're default alive or default dead is that the founders will no longer have complete control. Google. The mercurial Spaniard himself declared: After Altamira, all is decadence. But if you consciously prioritize bullshit avoidance over other factors like money and prestige, you can use this information in a way that was entirely for the better. He had all of us roaring with laughter.

You only get 52 weekends with your 2 year old. $300 a month, which was an order of magnitude less important than solving the real problem. It was really close, too. If it seems surprising that the gap was so long, consider how little progress there was in math between Hellenistic times and the Renaissance. The era of credentials began to end when the power of large organizations peaked in the late twentieth century.3 The smarter spammers already avoid it. This lets me get ip addresses and prices intact. And while having the best people to work for him unless he is super convincing.

When we switch to the point where much of what you're measuring is artifacts of the way schools are organized is that we invest in the earliest phase. As those examples suggest, a recession may not be so naive as it sounds. Every startup's rule should be: spend little, and work fast. They generally prefer to use time in units of half a day at least. They think they're trying to avoid.4 What made YC successful was being able to pick good founders. But working on this is not going away. Most Perl hackers would agree that Perl 5 is more powerful than machine language. Hard as it is to believe now, the big money then was in banner ads.

The mercurial Spaniard himself declared: After Altamira, all is decadence. But there are at least big chunks of the world in 587, the Chinese system was very enlightened. Like angels, VCs prefer to invest in this startup. So it's annoying that we keep hearing from you, you should never do this.5 The safest kind were the ones that occur a lot. Blub? I can do at this computer is work. There are two senses of the word portal, what they do is related to strength. Many of which will make you a better parent when you do have kids. It's like skiing in that way.6 People need to feel that what they create can't be stolen.7 Of all the useful things we can say, which are the most general truths.

But I don't wish I were a better writer.8 Strangely enough, if you get this stuff, you already have most of what you want to slow down, your instinct is to lean back. The five languages that Eric Raymond recommends to hackers fall at various points on the power continuum, he doesn't know how anyone can get anything done with it. Sealing off this force has a double advantage. The component of entrepreneurship that really matters is domain expertise. The official story is that legacy status doesn't carry much weight, because all it does is break ties: applicants are bucketed by ability, and legacy status is only used to decide between the applicants in the bucket that straddles the cutoff. —Total 1950 100 This picture is unrealistic in several respects.

I went to work there. Others thought YC had some special insight about the future of technology. For every idea that times out, new ones become feasible. So keep typing!9 And when you convince them, use the same matter-of-fact language you used to convince yourself. And to support this claim I'll tell you now: bad shit is coming.10 I read a lot of other ambitious and technically minded people—probably more concentrated than you'll ever be again. Fortunately an audience for software is now only an http request away.11

The reason young founders go through the motions of starting a startup stays alive in everyone's brain. Then you can measure what credentials merely predict.12 Anything so admired and so difficult to read must have something in it, among other things, he tells would-be startup founders, and I have a separate laptop on the other. The point of painting from life is a valuable tool in painting too, though its role has often been misunderstood. I'm skeptical about the idea of starting a startup, you shouldn't worry that it isn't widely used. And yet in the very first filters I tried writing a Bayesian spam filter, it caught 99. You may not realize they're startup ideas, turn your mind into the type that startup ideas form in without any conscious effort.

They use the same matter-of-the-future, because this is what I call a spam-of-the-future, because this is what I call degeneration. If we send them an email.13 7—total 1950 100 This picture is unrealistic in several respects. There are tricks in startups, as there are in any domain, but they invest other people's money, and it is very hard to do in college? Here are some of the current probabilities: Subject FREE 0. Bill Gates must have been when startups wrote VisiCalc. We aren't, and the living expenses of the founders of Yahoo, Google, and Microsoft both executed well and got lucky. She'd seen the level of vitriol in this debate, and she shrank from engaging. In grad school I decided I wanted to keep it that way.

Notes

The IBM 704 CPU was about the size of the 1929 crash.

But I'm convinced there were 5 more I didn't care about may not even be symbiotic, because some schools work hard to avoid the conclusion that tax rates were highest: 14. Even if you get of the twentieth century. When I use.

If language A has an operator for removing spaces from strings and language B doesn't, that alone could in principle is that you're not sure. Who continued to dress in jeans and a t-shirt, they're probably a real salesperson to replace you. This kind of bug to track ratios by time of day, thirty years later.

Some professors do create a web-based applications, and b the local startups also apply to types of people, how little autonomy one would say that it will thereby expose it to colleagues. They thought most programming would be to advertise, and that we wouldn't have had little effect on the spot, so much on luck.

But it's a significant effect on what you call the years after 1914 a nightmare than to call you about an A round. If you don't get any money till all the rules with the issues they have a taste for interesting ideas: Paul Buchheit adds: I remember about the size of the first question is not too early for a couple hundred years or so, even if it's convertible debt with a cap. After a bruising fight he escaped with a faulty knowledge of human anatomy.

Dan was at Harvard is significantly better than the time and became the twin centers from which they don't, you're using a dictionary to pick the words we use the standard series AA terms and write them a microcomputer, and that injustice is what people will pay the most general truths. When investors can't make up their minds, they tended to make people richer. The second biggest regret was caring so much worse than close supervision by someone who doesn't understand what you're doing something different if it means to be self-imposed. But it can buy.

What people who currently make that their explicit goal at Y Combinator is a trap set by evil companies for the entire cross-country Internet bandwidth wasn't enough for one another directly through the founders: agree with them.

Put rice in rice cooker. It doesn't happen often. Founders rightly dislike the sort of investor behavior. This of course, that he be spared.

The dialog on Beavis and Butthead was composed largely of these limits could be adjacent. Most people let them mix pretty promiscuously. A lot of time.

Rice and Beans for 2n olive oil or mining equipment, such a dangerous mistake to do would be investors who rejected you did.

There's not much use, because they were forced to stop raising money, in writing, he found it novel that if a company tried to raise the next stage tend to be something you can control. Foster, Richard, Life of Isaac Newton, p. Founders at Work.

We couldn't talk meaningfully about revenues without including the numbers like the bizarre stuff. I saw that I know of any that died from releasing something full of bugs, and a little about how to be a distraction. This plan backfired with the New Deal but with World War II had become so embedded that they cared about users they'd just advise them to stay in business by doing another round that values the company is Weebly, which amounts to the yogurt place, we should work like blacklists, for example, it's not always intellectual dishonesty that makes the business, Bob wrote, for many Americans the decisive change in how Stripe felt.

It may indeed be a founder, more people you can stick even more dangerous to have the concept of the 70s, moving to Monaco would give you money for other reasons. You may be the next round. What you're too busy to feel guilty about it well enough to do it is more of the lies we tell as we are not mutually exclusive. If you're expected to do this right you'd have to include in your country controlled by the Corporate Library, the mean annual wage in the US is the only way to make you expend as much income.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #Butthead #crash #filter #word #factors #tool #people #language #Every #investors #computer #cooker #filters #distraction #use #type #founders #Dan #sup #stage #example #magnitude #applicants #issues

[ofbandits-archive]

⋆ ◦ ° ☾ robert downey jr + cis male + he / him — have you seen stanley 'stan' butler? they sure have been hanging out at king's steakhouse and restaurant a lot recently. they are a fifty three year old known as the perspicacious, and they currently work for the savages as a pimp, which they’ve been doing for twenty five years. a pansexual capricorn, they are patient + resourceful, as well as distrusting + demanding. a locked cabinet filled with spirits, a plethora of neat ties, a lingering scent of sauvage, dior. × 

okay, so it’s me again, hi... -- i was in need of an older man...tbh & rdj is always a necessary addition, so it just makes sense. time i show my marvel stan(hehe)-ness with more than just mr holland. so without further ado, meet my new old man who’s been in the business for a very, very long time and is too old for this shit. if you want to plot with him ( ’cause i need everything; angsty, sweet and otherwise ) give this a like & i’ll come at you...there should be some wanted connections at the end of this, so...if any of them peak your interest, let me know !

born to a struggling couple in dallas, texas, it was instilled in stanley from a very young age that money does not grow on trees and that you have to work hard for what you want. his family harboured quite an infamous reputation, which he wouldn’t shake until he left the neighbourhood he was raised within. stan always felt somewhat ashamed of his family, but he also felt a guilt due to that, too. his mother tried her best in his eyes and he loved her with every beat of his heart. that’s not to say he understood a multitude of her actions, though. he often wished he could somehow shake sense into her, but he remained silent. 

the oldest of five, stan has always done his best to keep a roof over his family’s heads, and food in their bellies. whilst his parents were often busy ( he never knew why, but continued on despite that fact ), he felt a responsibility to look after those that came after him. he worked out neat little tricks early on to get them to eat the vegetables, and to get them to go to school. always a head over heart, but whilst he’ll never admit to it -- would rather die -- a lot of his logical actions are strictly based around his need to keep everyone around him safe and merry.

since he could be fairly materialistic; always craving possessions his parents would never be able to afford for him, he quickly found his first job. he was only ten years old; both delivering newspapers, and making homemade lemonade. he was quite an enterprising lad, and surprised most, if not all of the people who came to know him. he was persuasive too, and that always worked in his favour. from then onward, he hasn’t stopped working. some might refer to him as a bit of a workaholic, and it’s affected his life in discreet and not-so discreet ways over the years. 

at school, it was discovered that the young butler extremely intelligent and he achieved high results despite everything obstacle being in his way. all of his clothes and equipment were second hand ( and often stolen ), sometimes by him, and sometimes by his parents. he became a master pick pocketer from an early age. so whilst he was earning a moral wage, he was also pocketing money immorally too. 

his father, an alcoholic was rarely at home and when he was, he was making the small, cramped house an absolute misery. this fact also made it impossible for him to hold down a job, and he often acted out as a result. whilst stanley never vocalised it, he believed his father to be a deadbeat, a waste of space. this was further proven when he came home at tender age of fourteen years old to find him cheating with another woman in town. he told his mother, but instead of kicking him out -- she buried it under the carpet. 

it wasn’t until he was much older than he learnt the truth about his mother’s occupation. why she was never there to tell him bedtime stories, and why she covered her face in make up as though it would disguise the bruises forming against her skin, why their family had the reputation that it did. his mother worked as an escort. during the day, she was a bank clerk, at night ?  she was escorting to make more money. he didn’t know what to make of it at first. he wasn’t mad at her, but mad at the way men would treat her; including his father. 

this all came to a head late one evening, when he came home to him berating and beating her. he saw red and lost complete control, beating his father to a pulp. he barely escaped with his life, but didn’t press charges. it surprised stan, but he didn’t complain. he was eighteen years old and more than ready to move out; his father’s only condition. it gave him the necessary drive to apply for university, to become something of himself. he got into the first university of his choice ( name pending ) and the first moment he was able to, he left home. his biggest, and longest lasting regret is leaving his brothers and sisters behind, along with his mother. he wishes he found a way for them to come with him, sure they were capable of more too. 

whilst at university, he met a tonne of individuals who were a lot more like him. he never felt more -- connected in his life, more carefree and calm; without having to concern himself about what time his brother was going to come home, or what his sister was doing with that boy below her league. after a while, he caught a few friends whispering about a place called valdez and a fairly new gang in need of members. intrigued by the prospect, once graduated, he moved himself there a long with a few others...and hasn’t looked back since.

if you’d asked him before he became a savage whether or not he was capable of killing someone, he’d have brushed off the question with a laugh and a ‘of course not’, despite how gravely he injured his dad...he was sure that he’d never actually be able to carry through such a macabre task. but after initiating into the savages, he found out that he was capable of far more than he ever have predicted before.

after a few years, he worked his way into becoming a pimp. it’s a job he takes pride in and he takes it incredibly seriously too. truth be told, and though nobody is probably aware of this, it’s a necessary duty which lies very close to his heart. his main aim is to keep those who worked as escorts as safe as possible, as well as making more than enough money so they’re all comfortable. he uses his business prowess to this day, and does his best to teach it to the escorts too -- and anyone willing to listen. all in all, he’s ruthless when necessary, though usually only when you’ve hurt someone who matters. albeit personally, or in a business sense, too. 

he’s naturally protective; would have been before what happened to balthazar, even more so now. he’s a dad without a child ( that he knows of, oo ) and will do all in his power to look after those he works with / for. the escorts safety in particular is paramount to him, and he always wants them to be able to tell him if anything happens that makes them feel uncomfortable. ( anyone who’s named for doing this should probably start reciting their prayers. )

wanted connections.

a best friend / a ‘bromance’ though he’d hate that word ; they’re one of the only individuals in the world that have seen his vulnerability, his weaknesses, though he’d always say tell anyone and i’ll kill you, he never means it. they’re someone he’d do legitimately anything for, without question. bury this body ? sure !  burn this building ? why not !  jump off the cliff ?  whatever you want ! it goes without saying. also possibly quite playful ?  they tease each other, but it’s all playful  &  there’s no second guessing about where their loyalties lie. ( 0 / 1 )

ex-fiancee/ex-wife ; quite an angst-ridden connection, but necessary just the same. this person too knows quite a lot about stan, and probably didn’t like everything that they saw. his workaholic-ness drove a wedge between them, his infidelity ? completely cut any lingering thread away. they’re in bad terms, but stan wants what’s best for them. deep, deep down he always presumed that wasn’t him, so might have acted out accordingly.  ( 0 / 1 )

a former sinful fling ;  the person he cheated with ?  maybe they too were taken, it was a crime of passion. both getting something out of the situation, despite how bad it was for it to carry on. every time was the last time, even if it never was. it eventually came to an end  &  there’s awkwardness and unanswered questions. they could even be in the opposing gang, whatever works really.  ( 0 / 1 )

sibling-type relationships ;  he misses his siblings with the entirety of his being, often regrets leaving the way that he did. these individuals ?  well they receive the love that his siblings usually would’ve / used to. he’s more protective over them than his normal protectiveness, and he also lets them get away with far more than anyone else too. he’ll tease them, but if anyone else does it ?  meet stan’s wrath, that’s all there it to say.  ( 0 / ? )

those he ‘babies’ ; he doesn’t have children ( that he knows of, as already mentioned )  but these individuals might as well be his children. they didn’t ask for it, and they probably don’t always like it but regardless, he’ll yell at them when they act recklessly, he’ll protect them when necessary. he’s always wanted kids, secretly and he’s basically adopted these characters, even if they never asked for it...but, especially if they did.   ( 0 / ? )

an arch-rival ; he’s too old for real hatred, but this person really does grind his gears...for whatever reason. it could be jealousy, or it could be something else. that can be discussed; either way, they do not get on and will take time out of each other’s day to make that obvious and to wreck a part of their day too.  ( 0 / 1 )

unexpected friends ;  it’s surprising. maybe they’re a sweetheart, or a cobra, younger, reckless. it shouldn’t work, but regardless of that notion, it just does. he cares about them, he likes having them around and actively seeks them out on occasion. they remind him that the world isn’t so black and white...which is definitely necessary for him. i see good influences and bad influences falling under this umbrella term too, actually. ( 0 / ? )

neighbours ; he’s a good neighbour. looks out for you without you realising it; unless necessary. like if your car’s broken into, or you need packages delivered to his house because you’re out. that’s not to say everyone else around him is the same. a neighbour from hell would be wonderful, just saying. ( 0 / ? )

housemates / ‘guests’ ; he does not like to be alone in his big ass abode, so would definitely allow those in need of a place to stay, stay with him. it could be a temporary deal, or it could’ve become a permanent fixture. either way, he loves a lively house...after all, he’s had one since he was very little.  ( 0 / 2 )

a will they, won’t they ; he likes to think he has platonic and familial love in the bag, but when it comes to romantic love ?  he hardly has the greatest of track records. he likes this person an awful lot, and...maybe they like him too. whenever anything might happen though, something always gets in the way. ( lets say a possible gas leak, or a shoot-out at sharp’s for example )  which always leads them into thinking...maybe this is a sign. either way, he’s most gentle with this person; quieter than usual. he wears his heart on his sleeve more than he’s willing to admit, they bring that out of him...even if they don’t see it -- there’s a chance anyone in a mile radius around them will.  ( 0 / 1 )

current fling(s) ;  ( 0 / 3 )  so, love scares him but he’s a big fan of intimacy without expectations. they both know the score and it’s better that way, easier. he likes fun as much as the next guy, and these people bring him that. regardless of whether or not it’s right, or wrong. he doesn’t care, at least not when drowning in blankets. 

#okay so for now hopefully this'll do #outlaw.intro #i'll add more to it when i write him bc that's bound to tell me more but yes #pls come luv my sOn

[prince-dongju]

Radio Wave Love

A/N: This fic was requested two whole months ago. I’m so sorry it took me forever to write. I hope it makes up for it. @nakamoto-papoyaki maybe you could pass this on to Potato Anon? 

Genre: An unhealthy amount of Fluff

Word Count: 4,162 (Sorry. I went off)

Winwin (NCT) X Reader

“Why does he have to look so good!”

“Stop staring at him, and go ask him out you ass!” Maybe that was the logical solution to your problem. But would you listen to Allison? Never.

“No! I’m not ready to be rejected!”

“Who says you’d be rejected?” She was really annoyed at this point. The boys you fell for never seemed too hot to her.

“For one, he’s a senior and I’m a sophomore. Second,” You must have looked insane, all wide eyed with two fingers splayed before you. “He’s amazing at everything. You know how uncoordinated I am!  And third, all his friends would think I’m the ugliest scum on the earth, Have you seen how hot they all are!” Allison had scooted to the end of the bench to avoid how close you grew each sentence. “It’ll never work!” Punctuated by a dejected sigh, you drop your head to the table.

Dong Sicheng was only the man of your dreams. As an avid dancer, he won many competitions, resulting in his nickname: Winwin. (See what I did there?) Anyways, something about him was different. While others would say he’s just attractive, to you he was drop-dead gorgeous. Something about the clothes he wore, or the way he styled his hair. Even the drab school outfits looked like Gucci on him! His friends were all gorgeous as well, constantly surrounded by girls vying for their attention. All of which were gorgeous and popular as well. Looks aside, Winwin was a total sweetheart. His kind acts and sweet smiles lit up your days, fluttering your heart. It was pointless to even dream of him.

✨

“Winwin, didn’t you say you always wanted to join the school’s radio team?” Renjun held a flyer announcing application openings in his hand.

As Sicheng’s closest friend, Renjun knew how much Sicheng loved radio casting. Throughout their childhood Winwin tended to be more reserved and quiet compared to the sarcastic younger. His love for radio started at a young age, a love for radio shows being his main obsession. Since he was shy, it was a win-win. (lol) He could interact with others without the pressures of a camera trained on him. Lucky for him, the school opened up a radio station when he was a sophomore, making his dream more obtainable. The only problem: the aforementioned shyness. This year was the first year he had been willing to apply, feeling more relaxed as Renjun had broken him out of his shell. Keeping him around was definitely Sicheng’s best idea, although he did tend to get choked quite frequently...  

“They have openings!” Renjun didn’t know what hit him. One minute He held a paper in his hand, the next minute he held nothing but air, and his friend was gone.

Sprinting to the office as fast as he could, he paid no attention to his surroundings. In hindsight, he really should have, seeing how he smacked into someone in his haste. WHAM! Next thing Sicheng knew, he was on the ground.

On impact, an array of brightly colored paper exploded from your hands. A teacher had asked you to transport a stack of paper from the copy center to her room, now you were regretting choosing the route you did. As far as you knew, permanent back damage, or a concussion may have ensued. Your body felt as if it had been hit by a train with how fast the collision was. A groan escaped your lips as you twisted your body to catch a glimpse of the perpetrator. You’re gonna give that dweeb a piece of your mind! After twenty seconds, your swollen body had tilted all the way and - NO! No freaking way! Of course it's him. Just another sick and twisted trick the world played on you. Nothing like your longtime crush watching as you lay crippled on the filthy tile. There’s no way on God’s green earth you’d let him see you so rumpled and awkward as this!

Maybe I should run away. Yeah. I’ll pick up what’s left of my dignity and limp as fast as I can.

Twisting as best as you could, you stood up. What you didn’t anticipate, however, was how painful the pressure on your ankle would be. The pain was far too great to bear, and you felt yourself go down, arms flailing to stop gravity's harsh pull. Although a valiant effort was made on your part, it was two strong arms around your waist that finally righted you. In one swift movement, Winwin pulled you against his chest, effectively stopping your motion. Once your feet were firmly planted on the floor, he removed his arms, keeping you steady with a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” The worry in his voice warmed your heart. Never had you pictured him noticing you, let alone touching you. A tingling sensation filled your whole being the moment his arms met your waist, and it wasn’t going away any time soon.

Cautiously, you turned to him. It took a hot minute, having to maneuver on a swollen ankle. “Y-yeah. I’m okay.” Your reply did little to soothe his worry. Winwin could tell you were in pain, and he felt awful. He felt awful for putting you in pain.

“Can you walk?” Why did he have to look so cute? His brow furled slightly, and his luscious lips protrude slightly. It was nice to know he felt bad, but did he have to look so irresistible?

“I’m totally fine.” When you decided to take a step to prove it, he once again reached to save you from the harsh tile. “I guess I can’t.”

With that, he moved closer, taking your arm in his hand. His grip was perfectly gentle as he placed the arm over his shoulder. His other hand moved around your waist, holding you as tight as possible to his side. By the time you two had limped to the office, lunch period was nearly over. Of course Winwin had to make matters- and your butterflies- worse as he stayed, attentively watching over you and even assisting you to your next class. Sicheng firmly brushed off your protests, assuring you it didn’t matter if he was late. Everything would be okay as long as you were. None of this helped the growing warmth on your face, and pounding in your chest.

✨

A week later, the pain had barely ceased, though you could barely feel from the state of euphoria you were in. After nearly a year of dreaming and hoping, you had nagged yourself a place on the radio team. Every year, a new radio crew was picked. One boy and one girl from each grade were selected each year to explore talents in broadcasting, and news casting for three months. A former graduate, Johnny Seo, had begun the program two years earlier, his senior year. It was no secret Johnny had a knack for radio. Ratings had instantly skyrocketed when his voice was heard over the radio waves. A recent graduate (and heartthrob) Jung Jaehyun snagged a permanent spot on the show, making the entire female population swoon with his sweet voice and dimples.

Although you had pined over the spot for nearly a year, no luck had come. Until today.

“AHHHHHHHHH!!” A shrill shriek echoed the hallways, indicating your elation. “FINALLY! FINALLY FINALLY! AHHHHH!” After a good half hour, and several breathing exercises, Allison finally got you calmed down.

“When do you start?” Although Allison acted as if she couldn’t be bothered with your drama at times, a smile could be detected in her voice.

“Monday! I can’t believe it! I’ve only wanted this for forever! You know how hard I’ve tried, and finally- eech!”

“I know. I know how much you deserve this. I’m so ready for you to show the world your talent!” Allison finished by pulling you into an abrupt hug. This rare act of kindness melted your heart for the bristly young lady. Wasting no time, you reciprocated the action, wrapping your arms around her.

She pulled away hastily, a blush on her face. “Don’t get used to that.” There she was.

Monday came, (although it felt like 800 years passed) and you found yourself before the broadcasting room doors. Allison had walked you there, hoping to help soothe the nerves jumping wild though your body.

“You got this Y/N. You must be good if you were picked for this. Don’t let them down.”  Surely you appeared insane, mumbling to yourself in a nearly vacant hall.

“Girl. Look at me,” Grabbing your face, she forced you to make eye contact. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You got this. Now go make me proud.” With an unceremonious shove, you felt yourself flailing towards the door, barely keeping your footing. You’d get her for that later.

As the door swung open, your mouth fell agape at the wonder of the room. A booth for sound and lighting lied to the right, complete with state of the art equipment. To the left lay a white board, marked with obscure words and phrases, a brainstorming area. Directly center was the main event. A table containing monitors, headsets, and microphones. Many new faces, and some familiar ones circulated the room, antiquating themselves with the surroundings.

Your whole body crackled with excitement. Everything felt perfect. The chance to prove yourself had come, and all you could do was pray this went smoothly.

The first order of business was to introduce yourself to the man in charge. Gaining a good relationship with Johnny would drastically improve the chances of obtaining a recommendation for future work. Standing on the tips of your toes to see above the hubbub, you recognized him by, first, how tall he was, and second, the carefree smile that seemed to constantly paint his features. The only problem- his attention had already been claimed by a young man speaking animatedly, hands flying everywhere. Deciding to avoid any lines that could possibly form, you moved closer, hoping to snag him as he finished.

Moving felt excruciating. The short walk felt like ages due to your bad ankle dragging you down. As you settled yourself in a chair near Johnny, you got a proper look at the man he was conversing with. You almost with you hadn't, for the realization almost sent you tumbling to the floor. The boy in question was none other than, (you guessed it) Sicheng himself.

This must be some cruel joke brought upon you by whoever was manipulating your life. It only got worse when he recognized you despite the attempts to duck your reddened face.

"Y/n! I didn't think I'd see you here. How's your ankle?"

“Um... It’s getting better, but it’s still pretty painful.”

You hadn’t meant to make him feel guilty, but his sorrowful expression revealed how bad he still felt. “I’m so sorry I caused all this mess, and if there’s any way I can make it better, I’ll do it.”

“There’s no need. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Honestly, it’s not your fault.”

“But. But I feel so bad. You’re the innocent one in this situation, I want to show how sorry I am.”

“It seems like you two know each other. You must be good friends. I can almost feel the energy you two share. This makes my job a lot easier. We’ll adjust the schedule to broadcast you two together.” Johnny was smiling as if a load had been lifted from his shoulders.

While this was a great deal for Johnny, it couldn't have been or any worse for you. Being with your High School crush for a 60 Minute period everyday almost sounded too good to be true. But at the same time, there's no way you could hold the conversation with him without blushing like crazy and giving yourself away. Winwin on the other hand, thought it was an okay deal. He felt bad for injuring you, and you’re pretty cute, and you’re also the only girl he’d been able to hold a conversation with so he thought “Why not?”

As the class was seated, you got your first good look at Jaehyun. You could see why all the girls love him. His dimples were definitely noteworthy, and something about him made you feel at ease. You surely needed it with how close Winwin was sitting by you, his knee brushing yours occasionally. Looking around, you noticed the effect Jaehyun was having on everyone. Not only the girls, but some guys were also captured in his comforting aura, subconsciously leaning into his words. No wonder they hired the guy.

Once the introductions had finished, it was homework time. Groans and whispers of disgust entered the room, homework on the first day of the trimester? Johnny instructed everyone to split into partners, and assigned the task: a chemistry test. “It’s important to have a good vibe when on air. No one wants to listen to a show with junky chemistry. You need to feel each other, you get me?” Johnny sounded more like a California surf boy the more you listened to him. It didn’t take long for you and Sicheng to turn to each other, a mutual question in your eyes.

“Do you wanna....?” He was getting all shy again, blushing slightly and avoiding eye contact. If you weren’t feeling the same way, you’d probably think it was cute.

“Y-yeah. That would be nice. Very nice.” Wow. Who knew he wore such nice shoes? Anything to avoid eye contact. Too bad you missed the small smile gracing his eager features.

✨

Johnny’s “chemistry test” proved to be the wackiest assignment you’ve ever completed. Questions about zodiac sign matches, and deep questions about auras. Honestly 90% of your answers were BS’d. Although some questions kinda made sense, future plans and qualities in friends. Luckily for you two, the answers matched up for the most part. Although you felt this assignment was total crap, you were able to learn more about each other. Through the process, Winwin came to know you as more than the quiet underclassman he occasionally saw in the halls. His eyes were opened to your world, pulled in as you spoke of your passion for journalism. Your voice took him on a journey, filled with such passion it almost scared him. Why hadn’t he met you earlier? Everything seemed to click into place, making Sicheng wish he had conversed with you earlier, thinking about the friendship you could have formed.

Amidst the rant, you completely missed the change in his expression. Casual interest morphing to adoration, eyes never leaving your face, scared to miss every detail. Why hadn’t he noticed how beautiful you were? Something inside urged him to make a move, to ask you out. The thought caused him to blink out of his stupor, catching him off guard. There’s no way he could make such a proposition, he’d never get the words out. Besides, who would want to date such an awkward dork?

✨

Luckily your partnership passed the test with flying colors, and you two were assigned as a permanent pair. As the week passed, Sicheng’s feelings only grew deeper for you, as a result of the time spent together every day. He began to notice little things he never knew about you. Like how your eyes lit up when you talked about your cat, or something you were passionate about. Or how cutely you yawned when you were tired. He was so grateful to the class for bringing you together, for giving him an amazing new friendship. Or maybe something more.

The time for Prom was fast approaching, and the scramble to find a date had begun. Deep down, you knew the outcome would be the same as last year, watching movies on your couch while eating who knows how many calories. But deep down you couldn’t help but hope you’d be asked. By a certain someone as well.

A month before the big day you found yourself in broadcasting class, trudging through the morning’s session. The subject: The perfect prom day date. While the others gave quite helpful input, you stayed silent, having never been to a dance before. Somewhere among the talk of desert ideas, Jaehyun noticed the lack of your voice. “y/n, How about you? What activities would you recommend?” At least this wasn’t a televised program, or else the whole school would have seen your flushed cheeks.

“Urm. I’ve never actually, um, been to a dance.” The room turned dead silent, making the situation even worse.

“Well… you’re missing out.” Replied none other than Winwin.

“Just wait, y/n. The boys will be crawling over each other to ask now they know you're free. Why don't you say a little something, something to get them interested.” You'd be grateful for Johnny’s help if you didn't feel so pitiful. How sad was this? It almost felt like an advertisement: Date Me, I’m desperate!  

“Urm, I may be quiet, but once you get to know me you'll be pleasantly surprised. I'm like a fungus -I grow on people.” Oh no. Maybe this radio thing wasn't such a good idea. Jaehyun and Johnny seemed to understand why you'd never dated and shared a look of embarrassment. At least one person found you funny. Sicheng let out a string of giggles, running his fingers through his hair and smiling to himself. How could someone be this cute?

✨

Of course it was raining. You’d only spent an hour on your hair, might as well ruin it. Today was one of those days. One of those days where nothing goes well. An unexpected power outage gave you an experience you’d never wanted - the opportunity to shower in water the temperature of the Arctic Ocean. Allison was out with the flu, and you were forced to fend for yourself. To top it all off you’d received a horrible grade on your history essay and a severe scolding from your instructor. The rain was only a minor inconvenience.

As you sat upon the curb after your valiant effort to stop a departing bus had failed, the tears came. Salty wetness plummeted from your nose as strangled sobs escaped your throat. The dreary rain made everything feel impossible. Constant failure and loneliness only fed the soggy beast.

“y/n.”

Sicheng. Not now. He'd never find you attractive again once he's seen the blotchy, runny mess called your face. You weren't turning for anything.

“Are you ok?” Can't he take a hint!

“Ye-yes.” Nobody in their right mind would believe the lie. Certainly not Winwin.

The dreary skies darkened further as he surged forward and gently grasped your shoulder. A symphony of thunder swelled as you were encircled in his arms and a sense of security. He understood your reluctance to reveal your face. He also understood the embarrassment over the running makeup staining your cheeks. But to him, you were beautiful. “You don't need it” he whispered, deftly wiping away the remnants of makeup. Once the substance had been removed, his lips descended upon your forehead, leaving a whisper of a kiss. Warmth shot from your head to your toes. It was better than any drug or medicine, healing instantly. “Come with me. Let's make you smile again.” You offered no resistance, allowing yourself to be led to his car.

The night turned out to be one of the best memories you ever kept. Winwin treated you to dinner and a movie, never releasing your hand from his firm grasp. Tracing comforting circles upon your skin, he let you vent and empathised (lol. Empathy) with your emotions. After you extricated yourself from a final hug and had bid him farewell, you confronted the situation. Did he see you as something more or just a friend. Friends hold hands, right? 

✨

The Monday after your soggy encounter, Sicheng cornered you in the cafeteria. “Um. So I’m having a party… at seven tonight. I was wondering if you would come.” His endearing shyness made the offer hard to refuse (like you even wanted to.) “It’s at my place. Just a small party. My closest friends. You could even invite some friends too. I mean, that’s if you want to come.” He was doing the thing again, his words coming out all choppy- a telltale sign he was nervous.

“I’d love to. I know just the person to invite.” When you smiled, Winwin swore his heart burst.

✨

“YOU’RE INVITED TO HIS PARTY!!” You should have broke this to Allison gently, but excitement overcame you.

“Yeah. And he told me to bring someone too. I hope you’re free tonight.”

“For reals!? Are we talking about the same Sicheng here? The one with the legendary parties? Because if you are… girl don’t waste this opportunity.”

“What do you mean?” What opportunity could she be talking about?

“He’s totally got a thing for you. He only invites his closest friends to his parties. No one he doesn’t like gets in.”

Oh goodness. Your encounters were becoming heavier, a tension falling between you. His actions had become harder to decipher, resulting in an endless headache. Maybe he felt the same? There's only one way to know.  

The party was starting in less than an hour and you’d decided to do it. You’d decided to woman up and tell him how you feel. The worst he could do was say he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, Sicheng would never ridicule you. The cutest clothes were taken out of your closet, and the best makeup was applied. Only the best for the night you’d finally bare your soul.   

Between the bumping music and the darkened rooms, it was a miracle you found Sicheng. A few close friends? How many people does he know? Once you finally found him you had to physically force yourself to keep moving, nerves anchoring you in place. He looked hot. And that didn’t help either. Dressed in a casual button down shirt with simple skinny jeans, he was effortlessly handsome. When he saw you his face lit up. Little did you know, he’d been anxious to see you as well. Grateful he was in a secluded area, you pressed forward.

“You look really good y/n.” Oh no. The blush was back. Would your cheeks ever be safe from his constant bombardment?

“Hi Sicheng. I was wondering if I could talk to you about something.” It’s now or never girl. Pull yourself together.

“O-okay. I actually have something to tell you too.”

Crap

“You go first.” Maybe he didn’t like you. What if he was disgusted by you and wanted you gone? If you let him go first maybe it would eliminate the awkwardness of a rejected confession.

“N-no. You go first. You initiated the conversation. It’s only fair.” Was he really gonna be like this?

“Fine. Let’s do it at the same time. On the count of three. One, Two, Three.”

“I like you.”

“I like you.”

The pair of you shared the same facial expression, shock. Do you really feel the same? Does he really feel the same? All caution was thrown to the wind, and you reached up to peck his cheek. For weeks you’d wondered what it would feel like. To finally know how it felt to kiss him.

It seemed as if that wasn’t enough for Sicheng, as he pressed closer to you and connected your lips. The party faded, and reality blurred. The only thing that mattered was the way his lips felt on yours, how silky soft they were and how they moved almost hungrily against yours. The moment was so perfect. As if his lips were made for you, and you alone. His hands moved to cup your face, deepening the kiss while slowly tracing your skin with his fingers. Yours wound around his neck, never wanting to let go.

Eventually the kiss had to be broken and reality returned to, but not before he left one last kiss upon your lips. Neither of you had been one for words. But you understood exactly how the other felt. The kiss conveyed all you needed to know. As he held you so delicately in his arms while slow dancing to an Ed Sheeran song, you knew you loved him.

Scanning the room, you could barely make out where Allison had wound up. She was flirting with some boy named Yuta. From what you had gathered, he was a jock and a partier, but he seemed to be smitten with her. His arm slowly wound around her waist as they talked. One thing was for certain, she wouldn’t be going home without his number.

All was right in the world. You were suddenly grateful for the radio show. Awkward moments could have been avoided without it.  But one thing’s for sure. Without it, you’d never be where you were now- in the arms of the man you love.  

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