#because it’s inspired by natural habitats on ao3

[rhub0h]

go for it, nat!

#this is meant to be #shaunanat #because it’s inspired by natural habitats on ao3 #check that out! it is so phenomenal #digital art #clip studio paint #yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanart #natalie scatorccio #natalie yellowjackets #rhuboh art

[sundrop-writes]

Miss Nectarine

Donna Troy x Fem!Thick!Reader

Miss Nectarine, jawbreaker sweet.

Summary:

Ever since the old Titans have come 'home', Donna has been swimming in stress and grief over the friend they had lost the last time they lived at the Tower. She unintentionally found the perfect way to combat that grief when she accidentally walked in on you in a very revealing situation.

Donna Troy x Fem!Thick!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut. Set during Season 2, Episode 7.

Word Count: 2,600

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is such a random fic lmao; this is primarily smut; this fic does feature spoilers for the canon if you haven’t seen the show before and you want to watch it spoiler-free; mentions of Titans!Bruce Wayne’s intense paranoia; mentions of background (past) Dawn/Dick; mentions of canon violence (no in-depth descriptions); mentions of Donna/Garth (but I never outright state in this fic that Donna and Garth were romantic in the past or if they were just friends - I like them better platonically tbh); mentions of Donna’s grief for Garth as a best friend; this uses the ‘caught masturbating’ trope - Donna accidentally walks in on the reader masturbating and all the lustful feelings she has ever felt for the reader come flooding toward the surface; there is no hard dom/sub, but Donna is more dominant and the reader is more submissive to Donna’s orders and whims; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; she reader is described as fat/plus sized (through a very loving gaze - Donna is very turned on by her body); accidental voyeurism (Donna watches the reader masturbate for a while); clitoral stimulation (the reader masturbating); the reader calls Donna ‘D’ (because that’s a thing in all my fics now); very clear consent is established before Donna touches the reader; mentions of Donna manhandling the reader slightly (using her superpowered strength, but nothing that would be incredibly unrealistic); oral sex/pussy eating (Donna giving, reader receiving); I believe that’s about it. 

A/N: This is named after the recent song Miss Nectarine by Ashnikko, which is about someone struggling with their attraction to women and I fucking love the song so much - the second I heard it, it captured my heart. I highly recommend listening to it. Also, I feel like this fic is not my best work. Idk. I wrote it with a really awesome inspiration in mind (Donna lusting after a thick girl) but I couldn’t really get the writing flow down, and I feel like some parts of it are clunky. But I know that sometimes we should stand behind work that’s not our best, and people still might enjoy reading this. So, here you go!

...

Titans Tower was a place that had a lot of usual features. Things that no other home would ever need. 

The large serenity garden in the center of the house that never seemed to bring anyone serenity. (It was likely just there because the Tower had been built for people who were city-dwelling chronic night owls, the type of people who never saw plants in their natural habitats, and needed a simulated one in the middle of their million dollar condo.) The large, state of the art training facility. The medical bay, stocked with all kinds of equipment and medication - including a freezer filled with spare blood, in all of the original Titans blood types. Which is something that would be insanely creepy to any outsiders. 

And among the more peculiar security measures: none of the internal doors in the house had locks on them. All the bathroom doors, all the bedroom doors, the doors to the training room - none of them locked. 

To a certain extent, Donna understood why. 

The place had been designed by the most paranoid man on the planet - at least, that’s what Diana often called Bruce, and Donna had to believe it wasn’t an exaggeration, because Diana didn’t really believe in hyperbole. There were cameras in every single room, endless security protocols to breach the Tower from the outside - most of which Donna likely didn’t even know about. The place had been designed around its own unique, state of the art surveillance system. 

So, there being no locks on any of the bathroom doors or bedroom doors was just another… quirk. Something implemented for security purposes without ever considering how inconvenient it would be for a person to actually live with. 

It was something implemented with the idea that locks put barriers between the members of a team, and those barriers can create secrets. Secrets cause friction. A team should be one solid unit. That, and it can be dangerous, taking away precious life saving seconds if someone is locked in their bedroom while sick or injured and a door needs to be smashed up in order to get to them. 

At least, that’s what Bruce had in mind when designing the place. 

Back when all the original Titans had moved into the Tower, knocking became the most easily upheld rule in the household. No matter how much they argued over who did the dishes or complained about certain people making noises at ‘impolite’ hours - above all, it was a sacred practice not to barge past a closed door without asking first. 

And as Hank taught them, whenever someone wanted privacy in their room, as a kind of ‘do not disturb’ sign: a sock was to be wrapped around the doorknob as a universal signal that the person inside did not want to be bothered. It was a good old fashioned standby that he had learned while living in a frat house that had shitty, broken bedroom doors with locks that often failed. It came in very handy whenever someone wanted their privacy to masturbate uninterrupted, to unwind and sob without question after a particularly hard mission, or - when Dick and Dawn coupled up - to fuck like rabbits without anyone else barging in on them. 

Somehow, being back in the Tower, it was easy to forget that sacred law of knocking. Something about taking a five year hiatus from living in the strangely designed condo and wallowing in the tense emotions that being here brought back to her - Donna was more focused on the stress of Deathstroke and Doctor Light, everything around her old home that reminded her of the dear childhood friend she had lost the last time she was here. Her mind was a mess, and sadly - it was easy to forget about something as simple as knocking. 

Over the past few days, her mind had been occupied by far too many things. 

Doctor Light’s ‘escape’, and then his strange, untimely death. Deathstroke suddenly showing up again, and the moral conflict of harboring another one of his kids in the Tower. Which was made even worse when she considered that he would be an emanate danger to her - and to everyone else. 

All of this stress was topped off, brought to a boiling point when Donna had walked into her room after doing some yoga and meditation with Dawn (trying to calm the rockiness of their minds) and she found a bottle of orange soda on one of the bookshelves. Not just any orange soda - the orange soda. 

Her memories of Garth were painful enough - she didn’t need to be reminded of him like this. She wasn’t sure if someone was doing this to fuck with her, or if someone had put it there to try and comfort her. As an attempt at reminding her of the good parts of her past. If that’s what they meant, it wasn’t working. 

As soon as she found it, Donna rushed down the hall to your room to confide in you. She simply needed to share this strange occurrence with someone who wasn’t going to jump down her throat with conspiracy theories or brush off her concerns. She needed a shoulder to lean on, maybe cry on. Maybe she needed to reminisce about Garth when she had banned speaking his name since she had re-entered the Tower. 

She thought nothing of it when the doorknob to your bedroom turned under her palm with absolutely no resistance. 

She found herself standing in your doorway, holding the bottle of warm soda in one hand, staring down at it like it was a bomb about to go off. With her other hand still poised on the lockless doorknob, her mind filled with stale grief over her lost friend - when she heard it. 

A soft moan. 

Donna’s head shot up toward the noise, mostly an instinct of her training. The sight she was greeted with instantly shifted all of the energy in her body from confused, saddened, and hurt to pure, blinding lust. 

You were laying in the middle of the bed, your head propped against several pillows, making you look like a fantasy, purposefully displayed and laid out for her - and you were touching yourself. Your oversized, comfortable shirt was shoved up to sit underneath your chin, revealing your gorgeous tits, bared so perfectly for the eye to consume. 

Your lounge shorts with your panties tangled inside them were tossed off to sit around your ankles, clearly in a haste to partake in the act of ‘self care’. (Something different than the calming yoga Donna had been doing to take her mind off things, but just as effective.) This left your wet, wanting pussy out in the open, completely visible for Donna to see, and she even swore that she could smell you - a pungent tang in the air that drove a carnal hunger deep inside her. 

The thing was, as much as Donna had acknowledged in the back of her mind that you were attractive, and funny, and cute, and that your strength when facing enemies put an undeniable heat in her gut - she had never truly looked at you with this much lust boiling inside of her. Not until now. Because she had never truly seen you until this moment. 

Well, up until this moment - she had seen you as a friend, as a companion, as a fantastic warrior, someone she always wanted by her side. But this was the first time she had seen you as a potential lover. As someone she so badly wanted to fuck. 

With you laid bare to her like this, so desperately humping your own fingers and intimately visible, she couldn’t help but to stare. 

Two of your fingers worked furiously over your swollen clit while you held a lip between your teeth, clearly trying to hold any noises tight inside of your throat. This was something that made Donna even more desperate to hear your sounds, to hear what kind of moans or whimpers you would make for her. 

Your breasts bobbed in the air as your chest heaved - two beautiful mounds with peaked nipples, zagging lines of stretched skin where reality had quaked to prepare for your gorgeous muchness. This caused her eyes to trace down your quivering stomach; her gaze following the smooth rolls of your body that perfectly guided her eye down to the beautifully fat mound of your cunt. Your pussy was dusted with hair that was absolutely dripping with your need - so utterly soaked that you were beginning to form a small stain on the comforter below you. 

Perhaps best of all - the wideness of your thighs perfectly framed your clenching hole, clearly so needy and yet untouched as you rubbed sloppy, increasingly loud circles on your clit. It was a space where Donna wanted to slot herself and be smothered by the perfect dimpled thickness of your thighs, wanted to feel the endless warmth there, encasing her in everything that was you and barring out the stresses of the world. 

She stood there, frozen in place for too long, simply admiring you. 

She still had her hand on the doorknob, standing in the doorway, and with your eyes screwed so tight with pleasure and concentration, she knew that you hadn’t seen her yet. 

Part of her wondered if she should approach you. If she should be so bold as to assume that you would want her in your bed. 

But when she glanced down again, she saw the orange soda bottle. And something in the back of her mind was reminded of that haunted past. Something that said she was never meant to be happy. Something that told her living in the moment only fucked things up. Everything she had done back then, it was karma, that-

“Donna.” 

You said her name like it was the sweetest song. 

A soft, delicate moan coming from your lips - not an accusation, not a griped yell for her to get out. 

When she looked back at you, your eyes were even tighter with pleasure, your back arched slightly off the bed, displaying your breasts in an even more perfect way. Your fingers worked more furiously on your clit, clearly trying to make yourself cum with even more intent. Your other hand came down to hook under your knee, lifting your leg up in a way that spread your thighs even more. This made Donna breathless at the visible wave of slick that leaked out of you and the way your fingers dug into the fat of your thigh. 

It almost made her jealous of the act. She should be the one grabbing your thigh. It made her entirely tempted to charge over there and simply take over.

“Fuck, D.” You sighed breathlessly. 

It was clear in her mind: you hadn’t caught her. You were thinking about her as you were getting close. 

Donna’s own pussy throbbed between her thighs, and as she clutched around the glass bottle so hard she swore she heard it crack. In that moment, she could almost hear Garth’s voice in her mind. He was chanting, telling her to ‘go for it’. Telling her that the concept of ‘karma’ was bullshit and she had to make her own fate. He would have told her that she was stupid to pass up an opportunity with ‘such a hot babe’. If he was a ghost, supposedly haunting the Tower, he would probably be her wingman in this. 

Maybe it was his ghost, with a hand on her back, guiding her toward you. Whatever it was - in that moment, Donna felt the impulsive Atlantean side of her take over. 

Or maybe it was the fact that she needed to turn away from all the grief - for the first time since entering the Tower, Donna needed to make herself forget about all the ghosts that haunted the halls. She needed to hold onto something real, something good that was right in front of her - she needed the real, tangible now.

She stepped fully inside your bedroom, shoved the door closed behind her. It was only with that quiet slam that you actually came out of your personal, lustful bubble. There wasn’t enough time for shock to take over as Donna abandoned the mysterious orange soda bottle on your dresser and strided toward the bed with intention and purpose in every single movement. You snapped your legs closed around your own hand, suddenly feeling shy under her ravenous gaze. 

“Yes or no?” She asked you firmly. 

She placed a knee on the end of the bed, looking at you with heat blooming across her cheeks. Her own chest shifted with puffs of hot breath as the lust rapidly increased her heart rate. 

Of course, she would never do anything without your explicit consent. 

Even though shock was still barreling through your system, unsure if this was a fantasy or not, perhaps a strange illusion blurring into reality - you managed to squeak out a reply. There was only one possible answer you could think of when she was looking at you like that. 

“Yes.” 

Donna nodded firmly and then moved onto the bed. Before you could blink, she had hooked both her hands under your knees and, using her enhanced Amazonian strength, she pulled you down the bed toward her. This caused you to let out a sharp squeak - a sound of delighted surprise at the fact that she could move you around so easily. Nobody else that you had been with ever could. 

She placed both her hands on your inner thighs and spread your legs open like you were a book that held all the answers to life’s most demanding questions. She was glad that her hair had already been up in a low bun, because it was out of her way as she held your legs open with impressive force and dove in. 

Years of unrealized lust for you came rushing out of her, concentrated on the tip of her tongue. Feelings that she had been holding back through intense, well-trained self discipline began to pour out the minute that her tongue met your mound. It was a demonstration of her sheer power painted in front of you as she flicked her tongue over your needy clit, fucking you hard and fast. She couldn’t help but to moan loudly at your taste. Sweet like a nectarine. 

“Fuck!” 

You moaned out, unable to take your eyes off the sight of such a gorgeous, goddess-like woman between your thighs. Your mind almost unbelieving that it was real - barely able to comprehend how perfect she looked with her pretty pink lips pressed against your cunt and her tongue working in hard, fast circles as she fucked you in such an utterly demanding way. 

“Oh my god, Donna!” 

Your muscles quaked with the effort, but you were unable to move even an inch to shut your legs around the intense, overwhelming stimulation that she provided. Heat shot through your body from that one point - from that beautiful place where her lips were sealed onto your cunt. 

Donna felt the spasming of your legs, felt the heat pouring off you in waves, and she reached over with one hand and worked two fingers inside of you. This was entirely easy with how slick you were, open and ready for her. You moaned sharply and your face was twisted into a gorgeous pinch of pleasure when she glanced up at you through her lashes. 

There was just one more thing that she wanted. 

She popped off your clit with a filthy wet noise, causing you to whimper. 

“Cum for me,” She demanded sharply. 

You couldn’t help but to follow the order. 

When you fell apart underneath her touch, you couldn’t contain your screams. Everyone in the Tower heard you.

...

If you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

#sundrop writes #donna troy #donna troy x reader #donna troy x fem!reader #donna troy fanfiction #dc titans #dc fanfiction #titans x reader #titans fanfiction

[kalosstarters]

Fic: An Unexpected Encounter

Characters: Professor (not professor then) Kukui, Professor Oak, Ash Ketchum, Gary Oak

Summary: Koa Kukui has traveled to Pallet Town in order to start his Pokémon Journey in Kanto, and while he’s there, he meets someone who feels strangely familiar... 

A/N: This idea came to my mind many months ago but finally I found the time to finish this story. I love the SuMo episode where Celebi brings Ash back in time to inspire young Kukui, and when I remembered that Kukui also traveled in Kanto once canonically, I started thinking... what if the same also happened the other way around, without them knowing. So here’s the result. Keep in mind that Kukui was a kid when he met S&M era Ash, while in this fic he is a young adult while Ash is like 5, so no, he doesn’t know the connection (yet). Enjoy and please leave comments, it’s been /ages/ since I’ve last written anything Pokémon related!

Words: 2090+

[AO3 link]

...

“Hello, professor. It’s nice to finally meet you. My name is Koa Kukui.” A young man with his black hair under a cap and clothes that were slightly questionable for Kanto’s weather extended his hand to greet the region’s most well known Pokémon professor, Samuel Oak.

“Alola, Koa! Isn’t that what they say where you live?”

The young man chuckled at the comment.

“That is correct. I suppose your cousin has taught you a thing or two about our region already.”

“Yes indeed, he has. I make sure to visit him at least once a year because Alola is such a fascinating place. I was so surprised when I first saw your gigantic Exeggutor! And your Vulpix are ice type, right?”

“They are,” Kukui confirmed. “It is kind of ironic when you think about the weather differences between these two regions, but it starts making more sense when you learn that the Alolan Vulpix’ natural habitat is Mount Lanakila.”

“Yes, I once read Samson’s article about that.” Oak nodded. “But I don’t think you came here to educate me on the Alolan variants. Samson informed me that a very promising young trainer wishes to participate in our league challenge. What brought you this far from your home, though?”

Kukui’s mouth twitched slightly when he heard the compliment. Apparently Samson Oak did tell his cousin more than just Pokémon puns.

“I am interested in learning more about different kinds of Pokémon moves, but I don’t think Alola alone can give me enough challenge and information to complete my research. People there prefer playing and just relaxing with their Pokémon instead of battling. But hopefully our new school will inspire more young trainers to start battling more seriously and our competitive scene will grow. Once I get my degree finished, I might start teaching there too. However, my ultimate dream is having a league of our own in Alola but that seems a bit, sorry for the pun, Farfetch’d at this point.” 

“You’re an ambitious one, aren’t you?” Oak said with amusement.

“I guess you could say that.” Kukui rubbed the back of his neck.

“Please stay that way,” Oak stated. “Remember that we Kantonians weren’t this serious about battling either back in the day. But the new generation, like our new champion Lance, always brings something new to the table. It sounds like you’re trying to achieve many different goals at once. I remember also being like that when I was younger…”

“Some people say I’m crazy for trying to Tackle so many things in such a short time but I can’t help it. This might sound a bit silly but I’ve been secretly itching to compete in the Indigo League ever since I was a kid. A boy I once met told me that he had battled in different Pokémon leagues and I remember wishing that I could do that too. I guess that thought has in a way stuck with me to this day.”

“Oh. That’s interesting. I think it’s a totally valid reason to want to travel here.” Oak’s eyes focused on his watch for a moment. Kukui imagined that with that many Pokémon in his lab, he probably had a very strict schedule. “By the way, did you bring any Pokémon with you?”

“Just my Incineroar,” Kukui replied. “He’s been with me since I was a kid. I left my other Pokémon in a friend’s care for a time being.”

“I see. I take it you’re planning to catch some new Pokémon here in Kanto, then.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m hoping to do.”

“In that case, we should probably start here.” Professor Oak pointed at three Pokéballs that were put on display on his work desk. Before Kukui managed to take any of the pokéballs into his hands, though, two kids ran into the room unannounced.

“Woah, are you gonna pick your starter?” the first one, with brown hair and clear resemblance to Professor Oak asked.

“What will you pick, what will you pick?” the other one, a boy with black hair and unique lightning shaped markings on his cheeks asked. There was something weirdly familiar about him even though Kukui wasn’t sure what made him think that way.

The boys were both still very young, according to Kukui’s estimation, maybe 4 or 5 years old, and they weren’t lacking energy. They kept staring at him intensely as he considered his options.

“Boys! It’s not polite to interrupt us when we are having a meeting!” Professor Oak scolded them. “I’m sorry, Koa, this is my grandson and his friend who lives nearby. I’ve told them that when I’m dealing with work related things they should not disturb me… but as you can see, they do not listen.”

“It’s OK.” Kukui laughed, waving his hand. “I still remember what it was like to be a kid. If I had been living in a place like this, you bet I would have been so curious about each and every Pokémon around me.”

“Alright, then,” Oak decided to let it be. “Well, I guess these boys are dying to know which starter you’ll choose, so, go ahead and make your decision.”

“You should pick Squee-tle!” Oak’s grandson exclaimed.

“Everyone knows that Cha-man-deh is the best!” his friend insisted.

Kukui was amused by how the boys pronounced the Pokémon’s names, but instead of mentioning that aloud, he took the third pokeball, with a tiny leaf sticker on the surface, into his hands.

“You know what, boys? I think I disagree with you both. I myself think that Bulbasaur is the best Kanto starter. Come out, Bulbasaur!”

A red light flashed in the room and a Pokémon appeared in front of them.

“Bulba! Saur!”

“Wow, it’s so cool!” the black haired boy exclaimed, having already forgotten that he supposedly preferred Charmander. “Look at this bulb on its back!” He started poking it and Kukui could see some kind of powder starting to float out of it.

“Be careful, kiddo!” He warned. “That could be poisonous or even cause paralysis!”

“But… but…” The boy didn’t have time to say more because he fell asleep on the lab floor faster than Kukui could say ‘Litten’.

“Well… I guess we now know the first move this Bulbasaur knows. Sleep Powder,” Kukui said awkwardly as he called the Pokémon back into its ball and lifted the sleeping boy from the floor. Professor Oak showed him a couch where he could let the boy rest while his grandson was jumping around him, asking Oak if he was going to be OK.

“Calm down, Gary, the powder will wear off maybe in an hour or so and he’ll be just fine. You guys have been in much worse incidents,” the professor noted.

Kukui wondered what kind of incidents those had been, but as he set the boy down, he made a solemn promise to be more careful with his Pokémon from then on when there were kids around.

…

“Oh, you’re finally awake!” Oak’s grandson, Gary, said when his friend opened his eyes about an hour later. He had been waiting with Kukui the whole time while Oak had gone off to feed the Pokémon he was taking care of. “We’ve been waiting for aaaages.”

“What happened?” the boy asked slightly drowsily. “Why am I here?”

“It was Bulbasaur’s Sleep Powder,” Kukui responded. “You got some of it into your system and fell asleep.”

“It was really effective, then!” the boy said happily, quickly shaking off his drowsiness.

“That’s one way to look at it,” Kukui laughed before getting serious again. “I am sorry, though. I should have warned you earlier. Bulbasaur sometimes extracts those powders when you poke its bulb.”

“It’s fine! One time I tried to ride one of Professor Oak’s Tauros. That didn’t end well,” the boy reminisced.

“Oh, what happened?” Kukui asked.

“I fell and broke some bones. They had to take me to the hospital. But I’m all good now!” the boy told him, like an incident like that was an everyday occurrence for him.

“Wow, sounds like you have a tendency to get into trouble, young man. Where I come from, Tauros are used as Ride Pokémon, but they can be really fast and unpredictable when they want to, so you need to have some practice before you’re allowed to ride them on your own.”

“Yeah… Well, the professor said we shouldn’t go near them… but he was out somewhere and Gary and I were bored so we wanted to see who would be a faster Tauros rider. I won because Gary didn’t manage to climb up his Tauros.”

“Hah, that’s only because I knew it was a stupid idea!” Gary claimed.

“He’s lying,” the other boy pouted.

“Alright, boys, let’s use Calm Mind” Kukui said before they started a bigger argument. “So, you spend a lot of time here in the lab, don’t you? You must really love Pokémon.”

“We do!” the boys answered in unison.

“Funny, I guess I’m a Psychic type because I knew that,” Kukui chuckled. “Are you thinking about becoming trainers when you’re older?”

“Yes, of course!” Gary answered without any hesitation.

“Yes, I’d like to…” the other boy said, not nearly as certain. Something about his tone caught Kukui’s attention. He couldn’t say he knew this boy very well yet because they had only exchanged a few sentences so far, but based on his earlier comments he wasn’t lacking confidence or will to learn more about Pokémon. That’s why it seemed a bit strange that he wasn’t as eager about starting his own journey as his friend seemed to be.

“Hmmm? You’d like to? Is there something hindering you?” Kukui asked. “If you want to tell me, of course.”

“It’s… my mum. Every time I tell her I want to be a Pokémon trainer when I’m bigger, she gets all weird.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah. She starts mopping or peeling the potatoes like she doesn’t hear me. I don’t think she wants me to become a Pokémon trainer.”

Apparently Oak’s grandson enjoyed sharing a good drama because when he realized that his friend wasn’t going to spill the beans, he announced: “It’s because of his dad. He started his Pokémon journey a looong time ago and never came back home.”

Kukui wondered briefly what exactly that meant; if the dad had simply left them or if he had died on his journey. Either way, he couldn’t help but feel bad for this boy he had just barely met.

“Gary! You didn’t have to tell him that!” the boy exclaimed.

“Grandpa always tells me you’re supposed to tell the truth,” Gary argued.

“Yeah, but…”

“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough,” Kukui stopped them. “It doesn’t matter to me why his mother thinks that way. There are still many years left before you’re old enough to become a trainer, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, take advantage of that time. Hang out here with the Pokémon whenever you can and show your mother how much you love them. If you still want to become a trainer when you’re old enough, she will understand. She’s probably just worried about you.”

“You think she would let me go?” the boy asked, sounding more hopeful.

“If you know how to pull from the right strings, she will,” Kukui winked at him. 

“Awesome!” Suddenly the boy seemed to throw all his worries away and he asked: “Hey, hey, do you have any other Pokémon with you right now? I’d love to see them!”

“Sorry, I only have one with me here in Kanto and I left him at the Pokémon Center in Viridian City before I came here,” Kukui apologized. “I wanted to make sure he’s in good shape when we start our journey.”

“Owww, that’s too bad. But maybe you can show it another time.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Kukui smiled. “And who knows, maybe one day you and I will get to battle each other. Just keep on dreaming!”

“I will!” the boy promised.

Soon after that Professor Oak showed up again and told the boys to not annoy their guest who probably wanted to get going already. Kukui just waved his hand dismissively at him, telling him the boys were not bothering him. As they ran out to continue playing and he himself prepared to leave, he couldn’t get rid of a weird feeling. It was like he knew the dark haired boy already even though he had no idea how that was possible. Something also told him that this probably wouldn’t be the last time he would hear about these boys.

#professor kukui #ash ketchum #professor oak #pokeani #gary oak #my fics

[peppersonironi]

Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype Chapter Three

Wooo! Chapter Two (not including the prologue) is up now for my @dukethomasbigbang fic! Today's art is by @a-sketchy-character and you can find the glorious piece HERE

thx again to my betas @queerbutstillhere & @theycallme-ook

Today has a special thanks to @batgirls-appreciation who dropped out as a beta, but this chapter couldn't exist without her!

Summary:

Duke pursed his lips, not quite sure why Cass had come down to the basement, only to look into his soul, shrug, and leave. But that didn’t matter right now. As Bruce would say, “The mission comes first.”

Read on Ao3

Duke frowned down at his empty pad of paper, trying to brainstorm. It had been a mere twelve hours since the failed Rick Roll (though, the Rick Roll itself wasn’t a fail. Duke would be daydreaming about the chaos for years to come), and the day shift bat was itching for a way to make up for it.

Alas, the creative juices were not flowing that day. Duke had tried everything - taking a walk, training, meditation, writer’s sprint, and even resorting to watching prank compilations on YouTube. But nothing worked. So, he found himself watching the target Bat - Bruce - in his “natural habitat.”

Also known as the living room, mid lecture.

“But I don’t know what I did!” Tim pleaded desperately, trying to convey to Bruce his confusion.

Bruce shook his head. “No, you do, Tim. Dick told me you all will appeal to my affection to get out of the consequences for your actions -” wow, Duke remembered Dick using that exact tactic just yesterday, and it worked - “So I will not allow you to shirk the punishment.”

Tim groaned. “This is tyranny! I’m an emancipated minor, I don’t need to deal with this.”

“Actually, yes you do. You will be doing chores for Alfred for the next two weeks, and you aren’t allowed to run off to Mount Justice.”

“Then at least tell me what I did wrong!” Tim cried, throwing his hands up in the air. Bruce rubbed his temples, then glanced briefly at Duke.

“You know what you did, and how it affected those around you. And you’re grounded because of it. No room for arguments. Now go work on the sprinklers, Alfred has mentioned they’ve been finicky.”

Tim scoffed and stalked out, soon after followed by Bruce.

Duke considered relocating as well - he couldn’t very well observe Bruce if said wild furry wasn’t present. But something about that conversation that sent a light shiver up Duke’s spine, some small spark of inspiration.

An idea began to form in his mind, and Duke smiled slowly.

*****

“For all Bruce’s waxing poetic on the merits of high tech stuff, this pipe organization is seriously ancient,” Duke muttered under his breath as he glanced from the blueprints he had secured to the mess of pipes and spigots and nozzles in front of him.

Though to be fair, this wasn’t the Batcave. Duke was in the basement of Wayne Manor - yes, he was just as surprised to find they actually had one of those that wasn’t dedicated to the dark and mystique training of Gotham’s Protectors. And impromptu Mario Kart challenges, because as Tim had once told Duke “We all know that’s the real reason Bruce got a giant computer setup.”

Duke cursed softly under his breath when he dropped a wrench that began to clang around in the messy cage of metal. He set the blueprints aside atop the gallons of paint he had chosen, and reached around and down to get the wrench. When he came back up, he found himself face to face with his sister Cassandra.

Oh shit, Duke thought, as he tried to figure out how to cover for what he was doing in the plumbing of the Manor.

Cass squinted at him and, not for the first time, Duke felt like he was an onion trapped beneath her gaze, slowly being peeled back layer by layer till the young woman before him knew every little detail about him. Every thought or plan he ever had.

Duke began to sweat, unable to keep his panic under wraps. Cass was scarier than Bruce, that was just a fact.

Cass tilted her head a fraction of an inch, and Duke thought he was a dead man. But, much to his relief and confusion, Cass shrugged and turned. She walked lightheartedly out of the basement and to the stairs, whistling tunelessly as she went.

Duke pursed his lips, not quite sure why Cass had come down to the basement, only to look into his soul, shrug, and leave.

But that didn’t matter right now. As Bruce would say, “The mission comes first.”

*****

As all members of the Wayne family knew, the Library was one of the best places, period. Aside from the living room which was always a mess of pillows, bean bags, inflatable dinosaurs, spare semi-automatic weaponry and knives, the Library was the most personal room in the expansive home that was the Manor. Sure, it was cleaner and home to fewer surprise nerf gun fights, but It still had an air of warmth about it. It was the place that they would go to to rest after a difficult patrol. Where you could find Jason reading some book in a corner, Tim busy with WE work at the large table, Damian trying to teach Alfred the Cat and Titus to read picture books, Cass and Steph trying to be subtle about making out (though to be fair that was only half the time, other times Cass was working on reading with Steph helpfully giving her guidance). Dick would always be trying to decide what to read and but he would never actually succeed, Bruce would sit in his tall armchair in the corner overlooking every small detail of his children with a not-quick-smile-but-pretty-darn-close on his face.

Duke himself also had his own spot that he would work on writing poetry, or just surf Tumblr. It was a window seat at the far side of the library which was technically big enough for three people, but Duke had a strict policy that it was his and his alone and no he totally wasn’t bullied by Cass that one time to snuggle. Why on Earth would you ever consider such a thing?

It was in this spot now that Duke was situated, though he was not alone. Titus - yes, Damian’s dog - was draped across his lap. Now, Duke didn’t mean to steal his little brother’s pets, but it just happened. Titus was in need of snuggles or belly rubs when Damian was away with Jon or on patrol at night, and Duke just happened to be the only one that said canine could bully into granting him.

Thankfully, like all bats were, Duke was a multi-tasker. He wasn’t put off by having to scratch a dog behind the ears whilst simultaneously checking the twelve blinking dots on his laptop screen that represented his family members.

Duke stared intensely at the diagram of the Manor as all the dots slowed down and finally stayed in their predetermined positions. Huh, Tim was right. Stalking family members did pay off!

The dots suddenly stopped blinking, and Duke snapped out of his self congratulations. It was go time . He switched windows, then quickly pulled out his phone and pressed a button.

There were several screams that echoed throughout the ancient halls, those screams spoke of terror and surprise, and passed along the message that something was very, very wrong in the world. The status quo had been broken, and there was no returning from this.

Duke smirked down at his computer, where a dozen different squares displayed camera footage of the real time happenings of the Manor. Said footage was showing several members of Duke’s family drenched in paint. The same paint that Duke had meticulously divided and poured into the ceiling sprinkling system that the Manor had for some totally-not-plot-related reason. The same paint which had been primed and ready to be sprayed out of the spigots coating each bat with the perfectly calculated, even layer.

The paint had just finished being deployed, and yet several people were for some reason trying to fight it off like it was an attacker. Duke noticed that the swinging of bo staffs, AK-47’s and katanas were altogether unsuccessful. Honestly, the people who were standing completely still in shock, or who were trying to shake off the paint were having much better luck.

But then everyone finally realised that they weren’t being sprayed anymore, and a collective sigh spread out across the Manor. The onslaught was done, and they could finally gather together and grab the pitchforks to hunt down the responsible party.

It was then that the glitter was deployed.

The chaos immediately multiplied tenfold, and the screams sounded up again. The air was filled with the sparkly dust that was way too thin to swat away. (No, Duke totally didn’t spend extra time researching to find the world’s finest glitter)

Duke was outright laughing at this point, so hard that he almost fell off the window seat. Titus barked suddenly, and Duke sobered enough to get back upright and watch the finishing up of the chaos. He had to admit, this felt wonderful. If he had to describe his current state of thrill in two words, he would have admitted that he felt altogether too close to the Hellmo Meme.

Unfortunately, Duke was not Stephanie, and ran out of glitter eventually. The vents stopped blasting the film of fairy dust, and the bats were given a reprieve.

Though the break was short lived, as just then, Bruce’s loud bellow sounded throughout the giant house.

“ALL OF YOU GET IN HERE!”

Duke chuckled as he scooched Titus over and set his laptop to the side so he could get up. This was all working perfectly! He’d arrive at Bruce's interrogation completely free from all paint or glitter, which would immediately prove his guilt. And if that didn’t work, then he supposed he could outright confess. But that wasn’t the point of this. The point was for Bruce to come to the conclusion on his own.

He walked down the hall, completely carefree. So happy and confident in his own abilities that he never even noticed that Cassandra’s paint or glitter didn’t go off. That she wasn’t even present where the tracker he had subtly placed on her earlier that day said she was.

*****

Duke hummed to himself as he skipped along the carpet, past the antique vases and random finger paintings, past the drawing rooms and bathrooms, and towards Bruce. All was quiet.

Though that began to trouble Duke, as he got closer to one of the rooms which was very special. It was where Cass had been situated, playing with Selina’s cat Isis, for the past hour. Now, Cassandra was quiet, sure. But not that quiet. And besides, wouldn’t the cat be screeching right about now? Cass didn’t seem like the person to give a nerve hit to an animal just because it was being loud ( cough Jason cough ).

He slowly entered the room and looked around, but was surprised to find it completely empty. Not just of girl and cat, but of paint and glitter too.

“You were mistaken.”

Duke whirled around to find Cass sitting in an armchair, wrapped in shadows, and stroking Isis in a manner not altogether different from that of an Evil Mastermind™.

“Uh…” Duke replied, “about what?”

Cass smirked, and Duke felt a shiver run up his spine. “Actions have consequences. ”

Duke frowned. Wait, what? He glanced around again, trying to figure out what Cass meant. On a surface level he understood, but there was something about the way Cass was eyeing him that told him something else was up.

The only thing he could find that was out of the ordinary, however, was the camera he had placed just yesterday. Huh, now that he thought about it, he was at just the right angle to see it. Which meant he was in direct view of the camera itself. Pretty darn to close to where he had been planning Cass would stand, actually.

Then a faint spitting noise came from above him.

Oh.

*****

Duke trudged forlornly into the room where the rest of the bats - except Cassandra, who had disappeared after the glitter had deployed onto Duke - had gathered. He was one of the last to arrive, muttering curses under his breath, so all eyes were on him as he opened the door and joined them.

Though that also meant that Duke could see them. He had to admit, that as disappointed as he was, it was still hard to keep a grin from spreading across his face. Boy, he had done a great job with color coordination, hadn’t he?

Bruce was front and center, covered in a dark gray paint which had the sheen of yellow glitter. Dick had black paint completely covering him (much more than Duke planned. Did Dick roll in the stuff?) along with blue glitter. Jason had both red paint and glitter on him. Tim had started off with a lighter colored paint - this time red - and then the look was finished by black glitter. Damian looked like a small Christmas tree in his green paint and red glitter. Harper had blue paint then covered in purple glitter, both of which were the exact shades of her hair. Duke wasn’t a monster ; he knew how to match colors.

The cousins - both honorary and actually - had also been present. Bette had been appropriately targeted with a flaming orange and gold combination. Kate had black paint and, instead of red, Duke had picked a rainbow glitter for her. From the slight glint in her eye, Duke supposed he had chosen correctly. Jean-Paul had been doused in yellow paint and red glitter, and he honestly looked like a very large and human shaped version of his sword. Luke was covered in silver paint and an electric blue glitter.

Bruce, however, didn’t give Duke a second glance, covered in yellow paint and black glitter (which had been meant for Cass, but honestly, it fit Duke quite well), though he was.

“Good, now we just have to wait for Steph,” Tim remarked, rolling his eyes.

Duke frowned. “What about Cass? She’s here too.”

Everyone gave Duke a weird look. “Uh, no she isn’t. She’s been hanging out with Selina and Babs all weekend.”

“Then your intel is wrong,” Duke countered. “She was just here! I planned on her being here!”

The silence in the room was palpable. Before, where there had been bickering and accusations, the quiet had taken over. Everyone stared at Duke with suspicion in their eyes.

Finally, Duke thought, sighing in relief.

Bruce opened his mouth about to question Duke’s statement when the doors to the room banged open.

“What’s up, Bitches? The Waffle Queen has arrived and looks as fabulous as ever!”

Duke stared, completely amazed that she actually seemed to like the purple on purple combo Duke had picked for her. Oh, yeah, now that he thought about it made perfect sense that Steph was the only one to like this.

“Wow, whoever did this really got my colors right!" Steph continued as she waltzed in and posed in front of everyone, her hip cocked and arm thrown up dramatically.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, and he began to growl at her. “This is not funny.”

Steph pouted. “What do you mean? I sure think it is!”

Oh boy, she didn’t notice she was digging her own grave, did she? From the looks of the other bats, they shared Duke’s sentiment.

“Stephanie Brown, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Stephanie smirked. “Yup! I look way better than you, you old fur- hey wait! Are you blaming me ?!”

Bruce glared even harder, and Stephanie started to protest, claiming that she was but an innocent victim of these pain-filled proceedings! It was not her fault! Nor was it her fault that she happened to get colors that she liked better than everyone else.

Bruce refused to hear what she said, and told her to go get changed. “You will be cleaning up this whole mess, and no patrolling until it’s done.”

Bruce turned and stalked out, and Steph was left speechless - for once - in the hall. She backed away, seeing the angry stares from the others. The only one who didn’t seem mad at her, was Duke himself. He opened his eyes wide, conveying pity. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed silently.

Instead of being reassuring, however, Steph squinted in suspicion. Oh shit, that probably hadn’t been the best move.

Just moments after Steph left, Jason threw up his hands. “Okay, who wants to have a water gun fight to clean off?”

There were several cheers of assent, but Duke quickly made his own escape at that time. He honestly wasn’t in the mood to get splashed in the face with water. Now was not the time for fun, as the failed prank still hung over him.

Now was the time for plotting.

*****

“Okay, but why on earth do you have a fully functioning sprinkler system in every room?”

“Yeah, Bruce, even for you that’s paranoid! What caused you to think that was necessary?”

“You.”

#duke thomas #duke thomas big bang #batfam #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #dtbb21 #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #kate kane #jean paul valley #luke fox #bette kane

[theotherdoe]

But It’s the Quidditch World Cup!

Author’s Note: So I wrote a thing! This is my first time sharing fan fiction anywhere, so I hope who ever reads this story enjoy it!

This little one shot was inspired by that cute little part in Goblet of Fire where Harry, Ron, and Hermione are exploring the wizarding camp at the Quidditch World Cup, and Harry is just amazed at seeing magical people in their natural habitat. I had this little idea in my head that James and Lily would have totally taken Harry to the Quidditch World Cup whenever it was in England if they were alive, and of course Remus and Sirius are there. And as soon as Wolfstar became a part of this story, it kind of got away from me...

You can also find it on my AO3 page (my first AO3 story ever! AHHH!)

          “Mama.” A quiet, sweet voice said, as a small warm body pressed into Lily’s side. “Mama, wake up.”

           Lily Potter slowly opens her eyes, looking around the tent her small family is sleeping in. The wood burning stove has a few smoldering embers, but is mostly out, causing the family to snuggle close together under the covers of their shared bed for warmth. James, her sweet, goofy, husband, is lightly snoring beside her, hair wild and face smashed into his hands, drool slowly running down his chin. There’s a chill in the air, and it’s mostly quiet outside, besides the occasional cheer from people partying late into the morning, preparing for the Quidditch World Cup. Lily can tell it is still dark out, signaling it is much too early for her four-year-old son to be waking her up for the day.

           “What is it, baby?” she mumbles, squeezing Harry tight, burying her face into his wild, black hair.

           “It’s time to wake up and watch Quidditch, Mama.”

           Lily snorts loudly in response, waking James up.

           “Wh-what-what’s wrong?” He mumbles, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and slowly sitting up.

           “Daddy. It’s time to get up and watch Quidditch.” Harry repeats, wiggling out of Lily’s arms, and sitting in his father’s lap.

           James stares at Harry, his hazel eyes wide as Harry stares back, his big green eyes wide with excitement.

           “Daddy,” Harry whines, waiting for his father to respond. “It’s Quidditch time!”

           James glances at his watch – it reads 4:13 AM. A time that is much too early for Quidditch.

           “Harry, bud,” James yawns, ruffling his son’s hair, making it even more wild, “it’s too early. The suns not even up – you know the rule – you can’t wake up mommy and daddy until the sun is up.”

           “But it’s the Quidditch World Cup!” he yells, causing Lily to quickly sit up in frustration.

           “Harry James Potter.” She says in her most, stern, mom-like voice. “It is a privilege that you are here, and we can take that privilege away. I know you are excited, but we need to rest to enjoy the match later today. Now, cuddle with Daddy and your stuffed Moony and go. To. Sleep.”

           Harry’s bottom lip begins to tremble, his eyes full of unshed tears. Lily rarely has to be stern with Harry; he’s a clever, sweet, and well behaved child, that, despite the influence of his father and uncles, listens well and keeps his trouble making to a minimum. Whenever Lily is inclined to use her firm, “mom voice,” that James says is remarkably close to her “Head Girl Voice,” Harry gets a little scared and nervous, sad that he upset his mother.

           Seeing Harry’s reaction, James’ heart melts, and he wraps him into his arms, sitting on the edge of the bed.

           “I’m sorry Mama. I just love Quidditch.” Harry mumbles, burying his face into James’ chest, his voice quivering.

           “I know, baby. But it’s so early – if you don’t sleep now you won’t be able to watch the match.”

           “Can I sleep with Padfoot? I’m too excited to sleep, and his cuddles always make me feel better.” Harry explains, giving his parents the biggest doe eyes. He stares his father down, knowing he can never so no to Harry’s big green eyes and toothy smile.

           “What about daddy cuddles?” James asks, pretending to be hurt.

           “Daddy, you don’t cuddle. You just lay on me. And mama snores.”

           “I do no-“ Lily begins, but she stops at James’ look that says ‘if he sleep with Remus and Sirius that means we can sleep in our own bed without a little four year old kicking us and taking up all the bed for a couple hours.’

           “Harry, we’ll go sneak into Padfoot and Moony’s tent, but they might say no to Harry cuddles, just be prepared.”

           Harry grins triumphantly, knowing his two favorite uncles are wrapped around his finger. There wasn’t anything, or anyone, that they believed was more precious and worth spoiling than Harry Potter.

           Lily sighed in defeat as she laid back down, burying her face into her pillow, her dark red hair fanning across the bed, and ruffling her son’s hair lovingly as he leaves their shared bed.

           “Please be clothed and at least semi-sober.” James whispered to himself in a prayer as he walks next door into Sirius and Remus’ tent with Harry on his hip, knowing that the couple was out enjoying some of the festivities last night.

           While the Potter’s tent was modest, but comfortable, magically extended to include a full kitchen and bathroom, but no separate rooms; set up more like a studio apartment with comfortable, deep scarlet and gold furniture and décor, (‘Really?’ Lily had asked, and James had simply responded, ‘Gryffindor forever,’) Sirius and Remus had splurged on their magical tent.

           Throughout the years, Sirius and Remus found that they enjoyed turning full moons into camping trips and retreats for the couple. Once Remus finally began trusting the Wolfsbane potion, and the wizarding world started viewing lycanthropy as an illness, and there was strong movement to change the stigma of werewolves being evil and dark, dangerous creatures, the couple began to frequently take full moons as a chance to get away from their professional lives. It wasn’t always possible for them to run away to Northern Scotland, or the wilderness of Ireland or Wales every month, especially during the school year when Remus had to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, but when they could, it was special for them to take the time, to just be Moony and Padfoot, in the middle of nowhere, running and being free.

           But Sirius had made sure that if Remus was going to be recovering from full moons in a tent, it was going to be the most luxurious, comfortable, and special magical tent there was. While it was an open studio, like the Potter’s tent, everything was plush, and spacious, with calming colors, and fluffy textures. The kitchen area was huge, with a large assortment of teas and chocolates. James had never been in the bathroom, but he knew it was also massive, and beautifully tiled, with a massive, magical bath that provided the perfect temperature water, and an endless supply of healing bath salts.

           There was a large lounge area with a comfortable looking couch in front of a fire place in the entry way, and in the corner of the space, was a massive, four poster bed with a fluffy mattress, down blankets, and the most pillows James had ever seen in one space.

            Sirius and Remus were cuddled close together in the middle of the bed, and James thanked Merlin that he saw the sleeve of a shirt on his arm that was thrown around Remus’ middle. Harry wiggled out of James’ arms, sliding down his legs, and scurrying over to Sirius’ side of the bed.

           “Paddy.” Harry whispered, and Sirius slowly opened his eyes in response, registering the presence of his godson in his tent.

           Harry opened his green eyes wide, pouting his lower lip out, cuddling his grey stuffed wolf he had named, “Baby Moony,” tight to his chest. He was the picture of pure innocence and adorableness, and Sirius knew he would give him anything he wanted.

           “What’s wrong, Prongslet?” Sirius asked, unwrapping himself from Remus and sitting on the edge of the bed. Remus woke with a grumble, slowly sitting up resting his head on Sirius’ shoulder, a small, sleepy smile on his face once he saw Harry.

           “Baby Moony and I couldn’t sleep. Mama got mad because we woke her up. Can we sleep with you and Uncle Moony, Paddy?” Harry asked, laying it on thick. “Padfoot always makes us feel better. He makes us feel safe.”

           James let out a quiet laugh, and watched the scene in front of him unfold. Remus’ usually worn, but tense or tired eyes softened, and Sirius smiled softly at Harry, quickly picking him and plopping him between Remus and himself. James laughed a little louder – his son, four years old, and already a pro manipulator.

           “Come wake us up when he becomes too much.” James said as he exited the tent and as Sirius turned into his Animagus form - a big black, shaggy dog, Padfoot.

           Harry smiled, cuddling into Padfoot’s side, wrapping his fingers into his long, black fur. His other arm was wrapped protectively around his stuffed Moony, and with a happy sigh, Harry quickly fell asleep.

           Remus looked at the pair, Harry and Padfoot, his heart swelling, and a large smile on his face. He snuggled next to Harry, listening to his little snores, and Padfoot’s light, sleepy whimpers, and fell asleep, his heart full.

#hp fanfic #harry potter #jily #wolfstar #james potter #lilly potter #remus lupin #sirius black #james x lily #remus x sirius #omg baby harry #uncle padfoot #uncle moony #everyone lives au #marauders era

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, light smut w/ more to come - college!au

wordcount ~ 1.7k

warnings ~ light smut, drinking/partying, mentions of dick?, basically just making out, feat. long hair jk :)))))

a/n ~ this is my first time posting a fic!!! costume idea inspired by @ddaenggtan‘s iconic weeb-ass jk in chasing butterflies lol, and I got the idea to write this in general from wondering what a scenario like @joonbird​‘s literally flawless fic passionfruit would be like from the opposite perspective bc I kept reading it (and rereading it...and rereading it...) and loving the connection but I’m much more like joon in that au than the reader oooop. anyway thank you to all the writers on here whose work i have loved and my friends who have encouraged me and made me bold enough to embrace such a fun new creative outlet xxx u know who u are :’)

next: chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 (coming soon!) 

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 1 ~ dress up

You never intended to end up at this Halloween party. You didn't even know who to expect to see here, other than your roommate's friend from high school, the host, who had invited y'all as a package deal even though she knew you didn't really do parties. At least not ones like hers, where every bedroom ended up occupied by the end of the night and nearly no one went home alone. Thrilled to break out of your lame group of friends for a taste of flirtation and fun, you tried to relax into the scene but the unspoken expectation of casual sex intimidated you the tiniest bit.

Speaking of casual sex, there was Jungkook.

Used to admiring him from afar in your "14 Films To See Before You Graduate" class, you paused to take in the sight of him in what you supposed was a more natural habitat. Everyone knew Jungkook got girls, thanks to the rumor his first freshman-year hookup had started about his seriously impressive dick. He had a beautiful body too, carefully crafted muscles obvious even beneath his usual baggy black clothes, so as the more intimate rumors spread and various co-signers confirmed every detail from length to curve to (you had always hated this word, but...) girth, getting a piece of all that became a badge of honor among the girls in your grade. You had never really understood how the awkward boy who hid manga under his desk in class could supposedly be such a sex symbol, but you almost felt bad for him. That kind of reputation following you around everywhere couldn't be all fun and games. If anything, though, it had intrigued you even more about the rest of him, all his little weeb quirks and the way he debated your points in the discussion boards like he actually cared. He wasn't exactly studious in general, but he clearly loved film and you enjoyed speaking up in class just to see how he would jump off of your observations. You hadn't really talked to him other than that, but he didn't seem to be talking to anyone else tonight either. From the corner, you let yourself appreciate the way his nervous hands tugged at the skinny black tie of his costume, freeing more of his throat from a thin yellow button-down shirt.

At least you no longer felt overdressed in your Nancy Drew outfit. The retro headband, brown loafers, and bookish plaid knee-length skirt set a much more sophisticated tone than most other ensembles you'd seen, but Jungkook's weeb ass had basically worn a full suit to channel Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop. With his grown-out hair tousled and a navy pinstripe jacket cinched tight with two strips of electrical tape over his tiny waist, you couldn't deny that he rocked it. He leaned against a long plastic table left in the hallway, bobbing his head to the music in the next room and adjusting the too-slim suit pants around his thick thighs. His translucent cup stayed hidden behind a hip until he raised it quickly to his face for another sip of...red wine? Probably Franzia, knowing tonight's crowd, but anything was better than beer. You made a beeline for the one boy with taste at this party, your sole mission now to get wine drunk, sneak some Usher throwbacks on this playlist, and drop it low enough to leave some dude hard on the dance floor. #wastehistime2019, yknow.

"Hey!" You got his attention, grabbing the hand with the cup before he could lower it out of view again. His eyes grew comically wide and his mouth formed an "o" in shock before you demanded "Where is the wine?" and he pressed his lips back into a line, stuttering.

"I-I-I'm sorry, I just brought a bottle because the beer here sucks but I think it's all gone by now, I tried to hide it but yeah anyway you can have the rest of this one if you want though." Wincing at his own ramble, he ruffled the retro pouf of his hair with one hand and proffered the plastic cup in another. Both actions highlighted how pretty his hands were and you were just slightly tipsy enough to thread your fingers over his in the also-pretty black waves falling over his yep-still-just-as-pretty cheekbones.

"Aw, it's okay, I don't want to take your wine. No more liquid courage for me," you grinned, dotting the lightest kiss on his nose. It was an innocent gesture, but as your face naturally lowered so your noses touched, leaving your lips centimeters away from each other, something snapped—in him.

His wine discarded on the table, a hand curled around to clutch your ass and you practically felt his tongue before you felt his lips. Slamming your body abruptly into his, he nudged a thigh between your legs to grind it up on your center and as your arm got caught between your bodies, the tension you sensed filling his frame gave you pause. You pushed him away gently but firmly with the hand already flattened against his rock-solid abs. Looking down at the slight space restored between y'all, you removed his hands from his hair and your ass and laced them in yours to guide him back against the wall.

"I...what was that?" you almost giggled. You definitely weren't trying to laugh at him, but you couldn't hide your surprise at this first potential proof of his fuckboy reputation.

"I'm—" his whole face crumpled, both from the simple sting of your seeming rejection and the possibility that he had broken a boundary or forced himself on you against your wishes, which made him so sick he could barely face you. Squirming under your light hold but not quite resisting, he rambled again: "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to force myself on you or anything, don't worry I would never try anything if you didn't want to, I just figured we might as well get to the point if you did because, uh...when girls touch me like that or even talk to me at these things it's pretty much always just because they...want to."

"Jungkook," you breathed, pulsing your hands over his in reassurance. He squeezed his eyes shut, still distraught, and when they opened, you had craned your neck to meet his averted gaze.

"I never said I didn't want to."

His eyes widened again. "Uh...uh...then..." he trailed off, never having needed to directly proposition a girl like this before. He really had been inexperienced before the rapid escalation of college, and was at a loss for how to get to the good stuff from here via anything more eloquent than a rushed "Wanna fuck?" You shook your head silently, nose grazing his again, and let go of one hand to cup his face with care, like he was something precious you were scared of breaking.

"What? You want to get right to fucking me?" you murmured into his ear. He shivered at hearing you curse for the first time, freed from the constraints of class discussions and closer than he ever guessed you'd get to him. "Is that really what you want? Or is it what you think I do? Because if it's alright, I think I want something better. For you."

You pressed a new kiss to his nose, only slightly stronger than the one that had started all this. He held his breath and his untouched, open mouth trembled as you scattered soft introductions of your lips across his forehead, to his temples, over the scar that sliced his cheekbone. Finally inhaling a skittery heave of your shared air as you passed closer to his lips, he forced it back out in frustration when you ducked away to nudge under his jaw instead. Returning your hand to his hair, you grinned, enjoying the spike in his pulse under your thumb and skipping the tip of your tongue lightly over his neck right up to the earlobe. You lifted the choppy ends of his waves away from the dangly silver hoop they hid, tensing the strands just slightly between your fingers in an inability to hide your glee. Something told you this was going to drive him crazy.

Taking a slight detour to suck his pierced lobe between your lips, you responded to Jungkook’s low moan of surprise by wedging your tongue through the first oversized hole and letting your teeth clatter over multiple rings of metal. He was trying so hard to stay pliant under you, but the tease of slight pain in a new and unusual spot made him want your mouth more, anywhere he could get it. No one had ever spent this much time tracing so few inches of skin.

And so many girls had buried his face in their necks, craving evidence of an encounter with the Jeon Jungkook, that a strange kind of empathy caught him off guard when you showed him how good it could feel to receive. You connected your lips to the hollow right under his ear, feeling the tendons stretch as his head lolled away from you. Working him through a cascade of light gasps, you stepped away satisfied once you had sucked a dark bloom to the surface. He watched you leave with his mouth agape and chest heaving, unable to believe you could just walk away with a wave and a "See you in class!"

But you did, and he would.

"Shit!" he swore, a shaky hand darting straight to the spot. Now he had to keep his hair long for at least another two or three days. If he showed up to discussion on Monday and had to watch you admiring your work on his skin, he would probably just die on the spot. And that would not be very Spike Spiegel of him.

next chapter

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #bts fic #college!jungkook #college au!jungkook #bts college au #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #my writing #anti-hero #anti hero

[traditional-with-a-twist]

xxvi. Beauty and Her Beast

@the-pompous-potato *steeples hands evilly* yes, yes, all as planned... XDD so glad to get to the end of your review and find that you still enjoyed it! despite all the pain and all the seriously, what?!! XP

@bubblesthemonsterartist HA HA yes, where IS Obi? The man is taking avoidance to a whole new level... meanwhile, Raj in the back with a placard: *FOR HAPPY TIMES AND UNDERSTANDING PRINCES, PLS EXIT HERE*

<<Previous || first arc || AO3 || Next>>

Wistal is a city of stones, stacked on top of each other with no space to breath.

Tonight they loom so high that the tops lean in, blocking out the sky, like a cage that shrinks tighter with every day that passes by.

As the sun faded, shadows lengthened, and the castle complex became Obi’s playground, his feet began to itch.

They had carried him here, to her quarters, a place he had ventured often as of late, in missing her, in the faint hopes of encountering her.

This time he didn’t come empty handed: He carried a knapsack.

...

Her room is empty. 

He knows because he feels the absence of her in the air. 

He can taste the staleness of a space unstirred by her presence.

...

He doesn’t know that she has faced the prince and lost - he doesn’t need to know anything new to recognize that they are out of options and running out of time.

Ever since his own defeat, he has kept out of the way, lying low and waiting for some answer to come, some inspiration to strike him. 

It can’t be said that he was thinking - he was watching, hiding, seeing without being seen.

At one point, he dozed as exhaustion overtook him, while all the while impressions and fears and desires worked away behind the veil of his mind, in some dark recess, wherever it is that decisions happen while you concentrate elsewhere.

...

Obi opens the wardrobe.

A curtain of white greets him, dangling limply like half-hearted ghosts. 

He shut the door on them.

...

Still he doesn’t know exactly what he is doing here - or hasn’t admitted it to himself. He prefers to let his hands travel of their own accord, as they so often do where Shirayuki is concerned.

They lead him to a chest tucked in the corner by her bed.

Inside it, he finds the treasure his pilfering hands sought: skirts and blouses of cream, pink, and brown, all the clothes she wore as a pharmacist.

Here lay her old life, folded in a neat box and removed from view.

...

At the very bottom lies the crisp uniform trimmed in blue.

Except for the unmistakable row of buttons, it is almost unrecognizable as the trim, lithe form that once graced the castle halls: fetching, carrying, administering, researching, creating.

The dozens of activities, menial and magnificent, that had occupied her days, now flattened into a square the size of a dinner plate. 

It must have been the first thing she set aside when she accepted Zen’s proposal, confident that she would never need it again.

...

By now he has an inkling of his own intentions, so he tries to move fast, before he can reconsider them. 

Obi rifles through the chest like the perfidious thief he is, filching her treasures and stuffing them in the bag without more than a cursory glance at his selections: long, short, light, heavy - that ought to be enough.

They vanish into the mouth of his knapsack like sweets down the gullet of a greedy child.

Long habit stays him long enough to snap shut the chest’s lid - cover your tracks; it will slow down the pursuit - then he springs to the window.

He balances there, poised on the ledge.

...

Obi carries nothing but the leather satchel, with its assortment of plain clothes, and a stack of razor thin leaf blades buckled to his back pocket.

They are the ingredients of something different, something new, somewhere else.

The picture gathered before his mind’s eye, like the world coming into focus after one wakes from a deep sleep into the softness of pre-dawn.

...

An endless road stretched before them: twisting and turning through the trees, straggling over rocks and underbrush - not an easy road, not a smooth path, but they walked it together.

He felt her tiny hand enclosed by the heat of his broad palm, their fingers looped together.

She was trusting as a new wildflower that bloomed wherever it was planted: sending forth its roots and anchoring in place with perfect confidence that it would find the life-giving elements it needed, even if its new home was a rambling one.

He would work for her happiness - find a way to make coin without paying for it in blood. He would make a way for them even if it meant juggling balls in the village square.

He would see her planted in a rich, open place, where the springs flowed deep and the sun poured down, where she could lift up her head and turn her face to the sky and smile again.

...

He had so very little to offer her that he would deny her nothing, least of all the one gift that he knew he could give: freedom.

He thought, We don’t need anything else.

Then he leaped.

...

Once upon a time, he kept such a close eye on his miss that she never strayed from his radius of awareness.

Besides that, she had followed predictable patterns, like a star tracing familiar orbits across the sky. 

It never cost him many moments of doubt before he found her.

Since the sun had vanished from its place, they had all fallen into new trajectories, following erratic and irregular ellipses, each wandering in his own way. 

Obi had found it necessary to derive a new system of navigating his way to her: haphazard, less regular, but after so many iterations, he was beginning to get the hang of it.

...

He wheeled like a bird around the confines of the Wistal complex, honing in on the signal that would lead him to her.

The nature of that signal, he couldn’t have put a name to -- it was as if her essence resonated on a frequency his heart could now detect, as if the clear bell of her being sang in his ears and coaxed him in her direction, no matter how profound the distance between them.

On this occasion, it leads him away from the castle’s stone blocks, outward, towards its green perimeter.

His wide-ranging circuit strikes gold through a greenhouse window.

...

There she is, resplendent in her natural habitat. 

He pauses to admire her: so slight yet so strong, still upright despite everything that fate has thrown at her.

She imparts life to the garden beds with her delicate but sure hands, and they breathe out their gratitude, wreathing her with serenity.

Even the tinted glass warms the harsh white of her dress, bringing color back into her cheeks.

...

Obi closes his eyes to conjure up the memory of her face, the timbre of her voice when she had promised herself to him.

It still felt more like a dream than reality. Hadn’t he imagined her smile, her laugh, her embrace?

In either case, it would rapidly become a nightmare for them both if he didn’t act soon.

...

Shaking his head to focus his thoughts, Obi melts from tree to shadow to one of the many ways he has found to let himself inside the greenhouses without a sound.

The familiar smells and textures of the moist herbs and dewy flower beds blanket him. 

He pauses to let his eyes adjust to the swimming green air.

...

She stands so close that she would hear him if he spoke her name.

He moves to step into the space between them - then recoils.

She is not alone.

#Akagami no Shirayukihime #obiyuki #PurePassion #Beauty and Her Beast #the moment has arrived #Obi has finally decided to follow your excellent advice #and get the heck out of dodge #reading your reviews is the best part of my day #I gear up with popcorn and tissues #thank you <3

[vellaphoria]

heya! i read ur running (and when to stop) series on ao3 and enjoyed it so much! luv ur approach to tim and dick's relationship. that tension is just *french chef kiss fingers* perfection. so wanted to ask, do u have any dicktim fic recs?

Thank you so much! DickTim is absolutely my Gotham-based dc OTP, due in no small part to all that Delicious Tension™

I do have a few recs! These are some of my personal favorites, and the character dynamics in them provided a lot of the inspiration behind my own writing. I also highly recommend following up on wintersnight and Tabithian since they both have way too much excellent DickTim content for me to link it all here.

(also making this list made me realize that even tho these are some of my favorites, I’d forgotten to leave kudos on a few of them - that’s now been rectified!)

1. Fracture by wintersnight (Rating: E)

To be fair, this one is technically Dick/Tim/Jay, but it remains some of my absolutely favorite DickTim content out there. It’s pretty heavy on its exploration of Tim’s feelings of betrayal and some of his more serious mental health problems, along with a theme of him running away from what he both wants and needs. It’s my #1 recommendation because it was the fic that inspired most of my Tim-centric work and convinced me to start creating for this ship.

2. Ever More Reckless by Merelymine (Rating: E)

This one is a bit of a cannon divergence that takes place after Bruce’s death but before Red Robin. Essentially, instead of leaving Gotham, Tim takes over as Nightwing. While it’s probably best described as porn with plot (but mostly porn), it also has shades of an angst-soaked character study.

3. Dream of Better Lives by Tabithian (Rating T)

A bit of a lighter one this time. This one’s (loosely) a Sky High AU, but I say loosely because the main takeaway is that Tim went to a superhero academy and is now in search of someone to be a sidekick for. He runs into Nightwing. In his civilian identity, he also runs into GCPD officer Dick Grayson. Tim quickly puts the pieces together, but he isn’t supposed to know about his partner’s secret identity…

4. The These Things I’ve Found series by Tabithian (Rating: T)

A very good Villain!Tim AU which is cute and fluffy and just a tiny bit devious. Tim is more like an anti-villain in that he uses questionable methods to achieve arguably good ends while pretending to be almost completely ineffective to keep the heroes off his back.

5. How Much String is in the World. Who Has it. by someinsistant (Rating: M … tho could be seen as E, depending on your interpretation of rating systems)

Essentially, Dick is drunk and Tim tracks him down. This one is a little bit of an oddball piece in that it involves footnotes and strange references to observations of animals in their natural habitats. It’s a slightly scattered but overall fun read. 

#dicktim #fic recs #jagn answers

[myheadinthecloudsnotcomingdown]

Splinters

I wanted to get on the Chouette! train, which is @ladyblargh‘s fabulous original story. This story is inspired by this post.

Ao3

Connor kept looking back and forth between his partner, who was running in front of him, and the subject he was currently chasing, a witch who was flying above them. They had simply been following up on a lead when they came to the coven district- they weren’t expecting a chase scene! Not that Connor was complaining. In fact, he thought it was actually kind of fun, running through the city streets and seeing the shocked faces of the civilians as they jumped to get out of the way. Connor cracked a crooked smile and would probably have laughed when his partner jumped over a cart, leaving the shocked vendor to stare at her in shock, but he was starting to get tired and his breath was coming in gasps. Racoons were built for sprinting, Connor thought ruefully, not for marathons. Shame that this witch didn’t seem to respect that.

Connor successfully dodged the cart and looked ahead to Eerie. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew that she was probably scowling in concentration. What he could see was her bow, which was bouncing up and down adorably as she ran. She looked up and Connor followed suit. The witch, it seemed, was getting tired and loosing altitude quickly. She was still high up, but she couldn’t clear the tops of the buildings anymore. The witch risked a look back on the gaining detectives, then veered into a narrow alley on her right. Rookie mistake, Connor thought as they followed. Alleys were his natural habitat.

Eerie ran gracefully through the dim alley despite it being cluttered with trashcans and homeless blankets and Connor scrambled after her with just as much speed, albeit with a little less grace. There was a high, weathered wood fence dividing the alley, blocking their way. Eerie jumped, gripping the rough wood with her talons, then vaulted herself over without any problems. Connor moved to follow – jumping up, aiming to grab the top of the fence so he could scramble after her. Unfortunately, Connor was more tired than he thought he was. His hands slapped the wood a full six inches short of the top of the fence and he started to slide down. That was bad enough, but to make it worse, Connor watched in shock as his left glove snagged on a hidden nail and he slid down the fence bare handed. Connor could feel every splinter and chunk of wood as it dug its way into his supernaturally sensitive skin. The feeling in his hand was so strong that he didn’t even notice the pained scream that tore out of his throat.

When Eerie returned, the witch temporarily forgotten in favor of her partner, he found him curled on the ground in a fetal position with his tail wrapped around him, clutching his injured hand.

“Connor! What happened?” She exclaimed.

The racoon looked up at her with tear in his eyes, trying and failing to joke through the pain, “The fence stole my glove.”

Eerie’s eyes widened as she looked between him and his glove, still pinned to the fence by the traitorous nail. She never looked more like an owl than she did when she was shocked, her head flicked back and forth, taking in the whole alley, until her wide eyes finally settled on Connor, who was still huddled piteously on the ground.

“Let’s get you to the hospital.” She smiled as if she had just said the sweetest thing in the whole world.

Connor sat up, but he looked down. “I don’t wanna go…” he mumbled.

“Why not?” Eerie said in surprise. Even the lowest whisper was no match for her hearing.

Connor’s face turned hot. He couldn’t meet his partner’s wide eyes. “They laughed at me.”

“Who?” It looked like Eerie was more than ready to kick the butt of whoever had dared to laugh at her partner. Connor took a deep breath, still stubbornly refusing to look at anything besides the ground.

“They don’t mean to,” the steadiness of his own voice surprised him, the bitterness did not, “But in walks a supposedly hardened detective who spends his days chasing down ghosts, witches, and goblins, but cries and screams the minute anyone touches his hands.” Connor whimpered, “I hate this stupid curse.”

Eerie looked at him with a mixture of surprise and pity. She had never heard her partner so embarrassed, so … broken. Sure, Eerie was familiar with curse induced embarrassment, like when she swiveled her head all the way around on the train, then realized everyone is staring. Or the time there was a rat in her apartment and, well…. She knew she was never telling anyone about that one. But she had never seen those same emotions in Connor. The closest was when he looked mildly chagrined about having to pay for the plate at a restaurant because he had gone ahead and eaten that along with the food, but that didn’t even come close to the torrent of emotion that she saw in her partner today. Conner was still on the ground clutching his hand. Eerie could tell that he was trying not to whimper, that he was embarrassed by his pain, but Eerie could still hear him. She couldn’t make him go to the hospital. Even if the hospital staff didn’t mean to embarrass him, there was no way that they could understand the quirks and trials of being a cursed person. No one could understand besides another cursed. Eerie cared about her partner too much to put him in a situation that would make him even more ashamed, but she also cared about him too much to let him keep suffering.

“I could take them out for you.”

For the first time since he’d screamed, Connor looked at his partner. His eyes were still clogged with tears, so she was a little blurry, but he could still see the soft expression on her face. He wasn’t used to that. Normally she was so strong and fierce, he’d never seen her care so much, if that was even the right word for the expression that painted itself across her face. He didn’t know what else to do, so he nodded. Eerie smiled.

“Let’s go then,” She helped him stand, then grabbed his glove from the fence and handed it to him, “Your house is near here, right? Do you have any medical supplies at home?” Connor nodded. He had added quite a few medical supplies to his collection of objects over the past few months. He knew that Eerie would kill him if he wasn’t taking good care of himself.

Finally left the alley together.

\\

“OW!!” Connor stared at his palm in abject horror as Eerie gently attacked it with tweezers.

“Sit still Connor!” Eerie was beginning to have sympathy for the doctors who had helped her partner before. He was a baby when it came to his hands, even if it wasn’t his fault. She sighed. “It’s only going to hurt more if you keep jerking away.

“I can’t help it.” Connor was crying, “I see the tweezers and I know it’s gonna hurt and I…” Connor decided that his shoes were a better point of focus than his partner, “I’m sorry.”

Eerie thought for a moment. They could do this. After all, it wasn’t so different from the challenges that they came across every day. They just needed a strategy.

“Well,” Eerie said hesitantly, “If looking at the tweezers makes you queasy, just don’t look,”

“What?” Connor said, “Like a blindfold?” he hesitated, “I think that would make me even more insecure.”

“Ok then, back to the drawing board, I guess.”

“Wait!” The racoon’s eyes danced behind his tears, his brain working faster than his mouth, leaving Eerie in the dust. “Yeah, I think that’ll work.”

They had been sitting on the couch in his neat, if somewhat cluttered apartment. Connor stood and started using his good hand to carefully remove a variety of collected objects from the coffee table in the center of the room. When it was clear, he sat down on the edge and gestured for his partner to come join him.

“If we sit back to back like this,” he turned his back to Eerie and braced himself against her, “I won’t have to look.”

Eerie smiled at her partner’s ingenuity and reached behind her to grab her partner’s hand. He pulled back a little at the skin to skin contact but let her put his hand in her lap anyway. It occurred to Eerie that this was the first time she had ever actually touched Connor’s hand. She grabbed her tweezers and started removing the splinters as gently as she could. Her smile faded into a look of concentration when she heard Connor yelp, but he didn’t pull away like he had before.

They sat like that for an hour, back to back, Eerie concentrating and Connor trying not to cry. He gave up the pretense after the first ten minutes and by the end was letting his tears flow freely. Eerie was simultaneously the best and the worst person to see him like this. She was the best because he saw her every day and she understood being cursed better than anyone. She was the worst because he saw her every day and he was going to have to face her knowing that he had broken down and cried like a baby in front of her. He was supposed to be better than this, dang it.

Finally, Eerie stood up.

“Are you done?” Connor asked, hope in his voice.

“Almost” Eerie replied. Connor’s ears drooped.

Eerie rummaged around in the box of medical supplies for a moment before coming back with a bottle of clear liquid and some cotton balls.

“What are you going to do?” Connor curled in on himself in a defensive stance, wrapping his tail protectively in front of his hands. He suddenly looked even more like a threatened racoon.

“I just need to make sure it doesn’t get infected Connor.” Eerie said, motioning for him to turn back around.

Even though Connor knew it was coming, or perhaps because he knew it was coming, Connor screeched when the alcohol hit his palm.

\\

The Disney movie was largely ignored by the two detectives as they snuggled deeper into the blanket fort that Connor called his bed. He had his head on Eerie’s lap and, if he hadn’t fallen asleep already, he would soon. Eerie smiled down at him, noticing how he still protected his injured hand, even now that all the splinters were gone. She gently started playing with his hair which was as wild as ever. He must not have been completely awake because he shifted under her hand and looked up at her. Her owl eyes were wide in the half darkness and the horned cowlicks in her hair had long since wormed their way out from her bow. He stared at her for a long moment before...

“Thank you.”

Eerie smiled and began playing with his hair again, “What are partners for?”

#choette! #eerie #connor #ladyblargh

[deathfrisbeeinthetardis]

The Sky Beast, New and Improved Chapter 2

Yay I wrote a second chapter for the fic!! One of the key plot points is inspired by @q-unsolved‘s amazing art :D

Summary:

Ryan Bergara is 100% human until they shoot the Mothman episode. They didn’t find anything but Ryan might have brought a piece of the investigation home with him. Or: A bit of Mothman attaches to Ryan and he gets pretty cool perks. Shane is a fan.

Chapter 2 Summary:

Ryan goes to work with his wings tucked away, and they go camping for the weekend. Hijinks ensue.

Find it on Ao3 here or read below!

They take a sick day.   

Partly to figure out how to best keep Ryan's transformation a secret from the rest of the world. Partly just because it is all new and exciting, and the two men want the chance to completely regress to boys for the occasion, you know, to celebrate. 

Case in point, Ryan is flapping around his apartment with Shane on his tail, his wings doing all the work to keep them and Ryan's body from crashing into the walls or the furniture. They had taken time before this to clear away everything of value from shelves or tables, of course, they were capable of behaving like adults for a few minutes longer before they totally lost it.

"How's your six-foot-fourness helping now huh?" Ryan shouts with glee, cackling breathlessly as his wings maneuver him deftly away from Shane's outstretched hands, settling him to perch on top of a cupboard. 

"Damn it, why aren’t you obeying the laws of physics?" Shane wheezed, supporting his hands on his bent knees before said cupboard with a giant grin on his face, which brightened even more, "You know what? Your mob name is going to be wings now if I am to be called legs! It's only fair." he declared, straightening with hands on his hips.

"Uh, no way. My wings are totally going to be my secret weapon! I can't go announcing that to all my enemies, also Night-Night is way cooler. You're just jealous." Ryan stuck out his tongue, relishing in the joy of this moment. The past two hours actually, they really haven't accomplished much.

It takes another half an hour before both of them are too exhausted and hungry to continue, and they collapse onto Ryan's couch with a carton of orange juice between them, chugging it down with the fervor of men after vigorous aerobic exercise and several cases of severe laughter-syndrome. 

"So," Shane says when his breaths finally start to even out, "We know you can fly outside the natural laws of this earth. Also, I think I saw you're eyes glint red when the light hit it a few minutes ago, you're not about to go rogue on me now are you?"

"Wait, really?" He really hadn't noticed, cause that's not how eyes work. It was probably too dark the last time he looked in the mirror that morning for him to see. Ryan sets the carton onto the coffee table and hops over it to get to the window where watery sunlight shines into the room. Using his phone as a makeshift mirror, he wiggles his head until the light catches his eyes at a certain angle and, "Oh wow, they really are red."

"That could be a problem with filming, especially when our cameras are all good enough to avoid red-eye." Shane pauses, then chuckles, "Oh boy, if the fans ever find out they are going to go crazy. All those theorists positing how I'm a demon are gonna come after you now!"

Ryan wrinkles his nose at his reflection, "You're being way too happy about this."

"Hey, you win some you lose some. At least your red eyes are normal-sized, not like goggles or something like in the myths."

"Goggles," Ryan frowns at that, something in his memory sparking an idea, "didn't you recently get those pair of broke-Tony Stark glasses? The yellow ones?" He eyes Shane without turning, "You think they sell red ones? I can always say the red is from the glasses' reflection."

The other man makes a considering noise and pulls out his phone, after a minute his brows climb high on his forehead, stretching out his hand to show the screen displaying an astounding collection of red-tinted sunglasses, "They're supposed to help with visibility apparently, like the yellow ones." He strokes his nonexistent goatee, "Hmm I wonder what character wears red glasses, I gotta get you back for that Tony Stark comment."

"Shut up, Shane," Ryan replies almost on instinct, squinting at the screen to pick out the least obnoxious design. There was an optician's a few blocks from his apartment and Shane volunteers to get Ryan a pair while he practices camouflaging into a normal human workplace.

It actually turns out to be pretty easy, just as long as he keeps the thought of the necessity of the invisibility in the back of his mind. Ryan also discovers to his delight and Shane's halfhearted dismay that tangibility does not seem to affect his flight ability much beyond some extra concentration. He'll be fine tomorrow at work. He'll just have to remember to take a break every few hours to stretch or something. 

The shoot on Monday though, that could be a problem. Now that he has gotten used to his wings through one day of intense usage, Ryan has absolutely no guarantees that if he gets spooked he won't just flap away on instinct. 

Shane sleeps over that night to 'observe the Mothman in his natural habitat', Ryan decides his newest favorite sleeping position right in the middle of a five-pillow nest and when he drifts off he dreams about the red-eyed Mothman from the stories.

On Friday, Ryan wears the biggest hoodie he owns to work, just in case his wings pop-out unplanned. Despite the confidence from the day before, paranoia of a different kind creeps up on him as he sits at his desk next to Shane. He almost never comes in this early, but it was better than walking through the office with everyone there. 

He stares bleary-eyed when his computer boots up, taking his new glasses out of the case and setting them on his nose. The color gives everything a mildly sinister tinge and makes him more self-conscious of his appearance than he has been in a long time, but they do their job. 

He's quite proud that he only jumps a little when Jen calls "Nice specs, Ryan!" from six desks away. He also manages to wait until lunch break before he has to race to the bathroom to let his wings out. One of the pros of working at Buzzfeed is that there are constantly so many weird things happening that his abnormal choice in eye-wear didn't draw any attention more than a few comments and even some compliments. 

All things considered, it's a good day. Ryan even manages to get a good chunk of editing done amidst his paranoia and routine banter with Shane, the latter has gradually started to become more and more moth specific. Seriously did the guy research all the moth puns through the night?

"What do you call a group of moths dancing around a light?" Shane leans over to say an hour before they can go home for the weekend, his eyes twinkling, "A moth pit." 

Ryan groans, choosing not to respond as the passive-aggressive way to protest against the excessive abuse of all things moth-related within the day. His shoulders feel stiff, and out of habit he folds his arms behind his head and leans back in a long slow stretch, and it is the most satisfying stretch in his life, as the strain of a whole afternoon of mostly sitting still with his head craned forward just vanishes. He hums a little in satisfaction. 

Simultaneously, the lights overhead go out. So does his computer. And everyone else's. 

"Oh no no no my computer just crashed!?"

"Is there a power outage? What's going on?"

"I didn't save..."

Ryan is frozen in his position as the cacophony of voices barrages his now slightly enhanced hearing, and it hits him a moment later. In a flash, he's hunching down in his seat, trying to seem as small as he can with his face in his hands, while his invisible wings come down to wrap around him from where they had just stretched too, unseen. Fuck. Wasn't there a thing about electrical malfunctions on the nights of Mothman sightings? Oh god, he hopes he didn't knock the whole of Los Angeles off the grid. He feels his face flush, the skin heating up against his palms. Great job Bergara. Fantastic managing of your powers. 

Shane, who had been in the process of returning to his own editing after snickering at his godawful joke, has his hands hovering over the keyboard and a bemused smile on his face as he tilts his head and sees Ryan with the hood of his hoodie pulled down over his face. 

"I'm sorry," Ryan mumbles faintly into his hands, "I didn't think that part would apply to me."

Shane looks at him for a moment, then he claps a hand on Ryan's shoulder and wiggles him a little in his seat as his smile splits into a grin, "Lucky for you, I save my work by the hour. Otherwise, you'd have to fly like hell cause I'll tackle you."

"You'd never catch me," Ryan says, lifting his head a little to shoot a grateful glance at the taller man, "remember yesterday?"

"Oh but I was unprepared!" Shane declares, rubbing his hands and widening his eyes until he resembled a crazed hunter, "Next time I'll have a bow and a ton of those suction-tipped arrows, and I'm bringing you down baby!"

"You're unbelievable." Ryan huffs with a laugh, glancing around the pandemonium that has descended onto the BuzzFeed office and what seems to be the street outside as well, "Ugh, wanna head back now? We're gonna have to walk, uber is definitely not going to work."

Shane nods, chuckling silently at the whole situation. On their way out, Ryan desperately avoids eye contact with anyone and stares at his red-tinted feet, only snapping out of his inner guilt tirade when Shane pokes him in the rib.

"Stop looking down and hunching your shoulders, makes you look more guilty." He chides, the stupid grin still on his face as he tugs Ryan's hood back as they walk onto the sunlit street. "They'll just blame it on PG&E. The whole thing will teach everyone a lesson to be on top of their job and not rely entirely on technology and big electrical companies to save their work."

"You're just smug that you didn't get affected as much." Ryan retorts, but the comment didn't have any actual heat behind it. 

"You bet I am. Come on, buck up buddy. We've got the entire weekend to have fun with this!" The taller man gestured to the general area on Ryan's back where his wings hung hidden, "Don't you want to go into the wild and see what happens?"

Ryan would never tell Shane this, but his wings stir and shudder a little at the words as if they were dying to show the extent of their abilities. Traitors. 

They end up in Monrovia Canyon Park after an hour-long drive that afternoon, since they figured most of LA's population would be out in the city doing fun Friday night things, so the chances of anyone seeing a figure flying through the trees of the park are greatly reduced. Fortunately, they arrive with around an hour of sunlight left to hike in and set up their camping gear. Unfortunately, the light gives Ryan the opportunity to read the sign at the trailhead. 

"Fuck no." Ryan yelps, pointing an accusing finger at the picture of a black bear with the words 'warning, you are entering bear territory' emblazoned in black under it. He's terrified of bears, those things are the apex predators of the land, and Shane knows that because they've argued about this multiple times, on camera. It's probably why he chose this damn park over the others. "I am not camping here with those things around."

The man shrugs and the tall backpack on his shoulders rise up at least half a foot with the motion. "It is the most heavily wooded park in the area, and I do have this bear mace here," He says innocently, though his brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight seem to issue a challenge that riles up something in Ryan into a frenzy. "And in case you forgot, you can fly, Ryan, no bears are gonna get you."

"I hate you," Ryan mutters darkly, shooting the other man a look that was something between affection and scorn. What Shane said makes sense, logically, and Ryan is beyond annoyed when stuff like this happens on the regular. Speaking of powers, he wonders if there are any more tricks up the Mothman's sleeve that he can use to give Shane a good getting back at. 

Ryan half stomps over and yanks the canister of anti-bear from the side pocket of the taller man's pack, scowling at his snicker and latches onto the cool metal with a death grip, finger crooked into the trigger. Shane is right on one account, no bears are going to get him on this trip, or he'll get a face of mace and whatever cool shit Mothman can do when it's spooked. 

They dump their bags in a patch of grass amidst the trees, far from any established trails or camping grounds just to be safe. With a sigh of relief, Ryan's wings materialize at his back, dark against the dimly lit forest around them, dwarfing Ryan with their span. It seems they hadn't been at their full size that day in his apartment. They now stretch twelve feet in total, drawing a sharp awed inhale from Shane as the powerful limbs flex and stretch in their freedom. The best part? Ryan didn't even have to take off his hoodie, the wings found their own way through the material without really altering it. 

Ryan rolls his neck and relishes the warmth that the cracks leave behind as the soreness melts away, and he grins at Shane. "What now?" he says, a little breathless already.

"Whatever feels natural, Ryan." Shane says with a wolfish grin of his own, "Just let go of all the stress and embrace mother nature." 

So Ryan lets his eyes flutter close and gives in to that wild part in him that has started stirring since their investigation in Virginia. When he opens his eyes again, their red glint sharpens his vision as his wings carry him straight up into the air. The wind whips at his face and he has his arms spread wide, laughter bubbling out of him as his previous fear of heights dissolves into the crisp rich air.

He rides the soft winds, weaving through the semi-dense woods around their campsite and listens to his new instincts as he twirled in the air performing moves that he had once seen professional divers do. He feels free in there, and even though the falls and dips in height still send his stomach clenching, it's more in anticipation of the thrill of control, of pulling back at the very last second to glide just a few feet off the ground, rather than fear. He flies and perches on various treetops and swoops again, all to the whooping and cheering of Shane from down bellow. 

"Hey Ryan! Look what I brought!" He shouted, and Ryan glides down to a lower branch to give the not-so-tall looking man a questioning glance, the man was smirking with mischief, holding out a hand to wiggle a bright camping lantern in his direction, "Since you're Mothman, d'you feel anything for this here light?"

Ryan was about to adjust his grip on the branch to only using a certain finger on both hands when suddenly Shane yelps and starts to do a twitchy dance with his upper body. For a second Ryan panics, but he was just close enough for his enhanced night vision to see that the strange behavior is, in fact, not caused by a demon possessing his friend. 

"Oh, fuck is that a wasp?" Ryan bursts out laughing at the way Shane's face contorts a little at the tiny insect buzzing uncomfortably close to his face and did not feel sorry at all for his friend. Nope. Ryan was almost squealing in delight as Shane batted at the wasp as best he could, flapping his long arms around with a panicked look on his face. 

"See what you get? This is what you get! Yes! Take that for--" Its a shame that his victory speech is cut short when a wasp materializes right in front of his own face, sending him tumbling backward off the branch with a high pitched screech. 

A part of his brain thinks that if people heard what he had just uttered, there are going to be reports of the first Mothman sighting in Los Angelas. 

For some life-fucking reason, the wasp--actually three of them now-- tormenting Shane decide to refocus their attention on the flying creature instead of the sasquatch. They obviously haven’t taken physics or learned about surface area.

Ryan threads his way through the trees with much less of his previous flare and joy, flying for his life as the few wasps quickly grow to a swarm, despite a small voice in his head encouraging him to stop, to take a stand. What the fuck did he ever do to them?? It's not like he kicked their nest or something. Frustration and exhaustion combining is never a good look on Ryan, and after what he estimates is four minutes of high-speed air chase, he dives to the ground. Landing softly, he lets instincts take over, whirling around to let out a snarl at the swarm that races for him, wings arched at his back and shaking slightly to make rustling sounds.

The wasp swarm halts before him with a jerk.

Ryan's teeth are bared, which is kind of dumb, cause he doesn't have fangs so that image must not be very scary to anyone. But the wasps hover before him, their formation shifting uncertainly, and Ryan can see the detail on each and every buzzing insect with crystal clarity. A deadly calm washes over him.

"Heel." He growls, and his own voice startles himself. With all the macho, gangster bits they've done on Unsolved, he has never heard his voice go this low and guttural. Ryan blinks, and the heavy blanket of calm is gone. 

The wasps hold still, their formation now in a fixed sphere as they buzzed quietly. Respectfully, a part of Ryan's mind supplies, they serve him now. What the hell just happened?

A crackle of a boot on dry leaves has Ryan whipping his head around to see Shane approaching him with a flashlight and bear mace in perfect Harries position, concern and something like dread tightening his face. "Ryan come here, get away from the wasps." 

"They're not a threat anymore Shane," he said, tone stiff and tired. "They obey me now." The taller man looks doubtful but after a few flashes of light at the swarm produced no change in the wasps' motion, he slowly lowered the mace can. 

"I-I didn't know what to do so I just grabbed this," he said, lifting the mace a bit and then letting his arms drop back to his side. "Ryan are you okay? Your hands are shaking."

"What?" Ryan says absently, and there are tremors running through his hands. He clenches them into fists and tucks them into his hoodie pocket. A flick of his head at the swarm has them dispersing, buzzing back to wherever the hell they popped out from. "We're losing light, we should set up the tent," he says as he turns to walk back to where they had dropped their bags.

Shane stands his ground and reaches out a hand to catch the smaller man's shoulder when Ryan tries to walk past him, and his eyes widen slightly as Ryan's wings bristle at the contact, but his grip is firm. "If there's something wrong, Ry, anything at all that feels off about this whole Mothman thing, you'd tell me, right?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, big guy." Ryan offers the taller man a small smile, though it might have wavered a little. He can tell that his friend would have liked answers to a great many questions about how he felt, about the mad chase and about that final showdown, but the man didn't push. He trusts Ryan to reach out if he needed it.

The problem is, Ryan has never been that good with emotions.

But at the moment he feels... okay. The excitement of the ordeal seems to have canceled out his energy. So he smiles some more, "I promise." At Shane's not at all satisfied expression, he nudges the taller man with the tip of a dark wing, "Come on, help me light a fire. I'm dying for some smores."

And so they did.

#fanfiction #inspired by awesome art #I love Mothman!Ryan so much #alex writes #Ghoul friends

[doofboxprince]

bug enthusiasm

A little fic on some Pokemon/Revue Starlight stuff. Gen, not really shippy or much of anything, tbh. There’s some kaotaba, I guess?

Anyways, please check out rosenkrone on ao3, their work is lovely and their Pokemon/Starlight fic and this AU inspired me to write my own take on things! 

The sun is going down but the air is still uncomfortably muggy as they sit outside the dorms. Kaoruko is tired of fanning herself and she’s long since given up on more iced tea.The pitcher of iced tea is bordering room temperature now and it won’t be long before it turns into lukewarm tea.

For now a nap is a much better way to beat the heat and the boredom. She’s already half asleep in the chair when Ducklett startles her awake with a quack. Kaoruko sighs and yawns.

A rare little critter approaches Maya who’s reading in the chair beside her.

Maya's Ducklett quacks at it again from the patio. It chitters something back before it looks expectantly at Maya. Swablu on Maya’s shoulder regards it warily.

“That’s a Karrablast,” Kaoruko says at Maya’s raised eyebrow. “Haven’t you seen one before when you were in Unova? It’s a bug type that’s common there.”

“I didn’t have a Pokedex at the time,” Maya explains. Though despite having one now, Maya still doesn’t move to register it in her Pokedex. If it were some unknown bird Pokemon Kaoruko is sure she’d show more interest.

And if it weren’t so hot Kaoruko would be a bit more incensed that the relatively rare bug type is more interested in Maya than in herself; a patented bug connoisseur. It’s a bit insulting that the Pokemon isn’t naturally attracted to Kaoruko but she lets it go.   

After all, Maya has been occasionally feeding Kaoruko’s Spinarak poffins this entire time. Surely the poffins have has caught this little critter’s attention and lured it over. Quite a bold little critter to come right up to them though, especially since it’s peak bug catching season.

Maya selects another poffin from the tin on the table. “Here.” She leans over her chair and the Karrablast happily takes the proffered poffin from her hand. Then it jumps onto Maya’s lap beside Spinarak and gets pecked at by Maya’s ever-territorial Swablu for it’s trouble.

Maya grunts as they start a fight right on top of her. Spinarak displeased by the competition joins the fray on Maya’s lap. Ducklett and Kaoruko watch unimpressed while Maya struggles to stop the stray wings and horns and legs from hitting her.

“Anyone would have seen this coming, you know. That bird of yours is always like this.” Kaoruko sighs and shakes her head. “Are you going to catch it for me, Tendou-han?”

Swablu whaps Maya in the face with a cottony wing. Kaoruko snickers.

“I don’t have Pokeballs,” Maya says after managing to pluck Spinarak off at least.

“A shame. Neither do I at the moment.” And it really is a shame, because Karrablast are almost never seen in cities like this one, except for a handful of rare days of summer when they swarm.

Briefly, Kaoruko considers going inside to get a Pokeball from someone, but that’s a bit too much work for her taste, despite the rarity of this Pokemon.

And also, the only people she actually knows are all out.

Maybe next year then. Kaoruko just gets more comfortable in her chair instead, taking a sip of her unpleasantly warming drink, as she watches the struggle. It’s a pretty passable way to pass time, if only for a short while.

Maya’s finally gotten her Swablu back in it’s Pokeball, and she's just about to drop the Karrablast off her lap, when a party returns.

Karen opens the gate with Hikari and Mahiru behind her, looking entirely too dejected. They’re all clearly exhausted though Mahiru is too polite to be dragging her feet like the other two are.

“Welcome back,” they say simultaneously.

Karen makes a muted wave at them but then she yells and points, forgoing a normally polite response.

She runs up to them with sudden haste, the bug catching net on her back wobbling wildly back and forth. She is still yelling the entire time. All signs of her exhaustion have evaporated from her.

Mahiru and Hikari approach at a much more lethargic pace, carrying equally empty cages with matching expressions of resignation.

“Karen-chan...why are you yelling?” Mahiru asks slowly. And then she sees the Karrablast on Maya’s lap. Mahiru yells in shock. “There it is!” She points to it while still holding a picnic basket in it. “It’s there! It’s right there, Karen-chan!”

Hikari blinks at it slowly.

“Is something wrong?” Maya asks.

“Goodness, what’s got you all up in a tizzy?” Kaoruko asks. “The Karrablast?”

“We’ve been looking for that all day! A Karrablast!” Karen shouts still pointing an almost accusing finger at the creature in question.

“There it is,” Hikari says dully. “A Karrablast.”

It seems like they had a rather disappointing bug hunting day.

“The heat brings out lots of bug type Pokemon,” Kaoruko starts, waving her fan at herself, “but despite being the season when they swarm, Shelmet and Karrablast are still fairly rare, especially in a city like Tokyo, you know?” She states rather matter-of-factly. “Even in the outskirts or suburbs you would have trouble. After all their habitat tends to be mostly wetlands.”

Ever the bug enthusiast, she knows all there is when it comes to them. Of course, if they wanted to go bug hunting, then like any respectable trainer they would have found out that out for themselves before heading out.

“Mh, there’s actually an area that was similar to their habitat,” Mahiru confirms with a sigh, finally dropping her finger. “We spent all weekday going out to places, as far as we could but we never found a Karrablast.”

“I guess Tendou-han’s just quite lucky then,” Kaoruko says side-eyeing the Karrablast in her lap. Despite the commotion and clamor it sits rather docilely. Such a friendly Karrablast. “Swarming season is ending, so you’re not likely to find one after today,” Kaoruko adds. “Well. Until next year that is.

Mahiru’s shoulders slump further. “Yeah.”

Hikari holds up a cage with a fussy looking Shelmet. “We got this one.”

“Ooh.” Kaoruko sits up beckoning her. Hikari brings it closer for Kaoruko to admire. “Quite, a lovely find.”

The sheen of it's armored chitin is a lustrous silver in the setting sun, a cut above most other Shelmet. Even though it surely sees the Karrablast —  it’s natural enemy — neither of them look fussed. No flaring or aggression at all, though it would be natural behaviour in the wild to display aggression towards each other... Again, another surprisingly docile bug type. How well-mannered. Kaoruko hums appreciatively. “They’re perfect specimens!” She declares with a satisfied nod.

“You say that about all bug pokemon,” Mahiru comments with a smile. Well, it’s only fact.

Hikari raises the cage to inspect the Shelmet again, as if trying to understand it’s beauties. At least she’s trying.

“You have a perfectly lovely Pokemon,” Kaoruko reiterates. “You should show a deeper appreciation for the perfection that is bug types, Karen-han.”

“I know! It’s great it really is, I love snail stuff and bugs too but...I want that one!” Karen points again at the Karrablast in Maya lap. It looks utterly unfazed by the commotion. “Tendou-san! Please...trade it with me!”

“It’s not mine. You’re free to have it.”

Maya takes the Karrablast off her lap and gives it to Karen before she can even respond. It only looks mildly perturbed at being shuffled about.

“Yes! Tendou-san, thank you so much! I can't believe this! A Karrablast!” Karen spins it in her arms before stopping suddenly. “Here, I’ll give you this! A trade is only fair!”

Karen takes the caged Shelmet from Hikari, clearly intending to give it to Maya. This time, the Pokemon meet eyes and are clearly flaring.

“I don’t actually want it,” Maya says.

“Karen-han, if you do that then—”

“Wait, Karen-chan—”

“Karen—”

They evolve. Maya blinks at the strange new Pokemon sitting in the now too small cage on her lap. Karen is shocked by the Escavalier in her arms where a Karrablast used to be.

“W-what...my Karrablast..” Karen stares shocked at her Escavalier. The Escavalier pokes her in the head with one of it’s long lances. Karen drops back to her knees in despair.

“Ah, an Accelgor and Escavalier. Congratulations, you two.” Kaoruko says airily.

“You’re free to have it back, Aijou-san.” Maya opens the cage, letting Shelmet—now Accelgor exit. She has to shake it out of the tiny cage. It’s a bit stuck. It drops onto Karen’s lap, on its head before Karen helps it right itself.

Karen now sits with a Pokemon in each arm, both of them entirely too big for her.

Mahiru sighs. Hikari looks utterly unamused. They both head inside leaving Karen to mope.

“I’ll...be right there. Just give me a second,” Karen says. “I just need a second...to…process...”

“Yes, please reflect on your new acquisitions, Karen-han. It’s important to appreciate what you have.”

Ducklett takes the initiative to monopolize Maya’s lap. Idly, Maya pets it’s head. She’s already returned to her book, leaning back into her chair.  She doesn’t care much for Karen’s despair and Kaoruko doesn’t really either.

Kaoruko relaxes back into her chair, hoping to catch a quick nap again. It’s almost pleasantly warm now with most of the sun having set. She’s just about to doze off when she hears a clattering at the gate again.

“Hey! We’re back!” Futaba calls cheerily. She comes through the gate with her own share of bug catching nets and cages. So that’s where she’s been. Out bug catching.

Behind her, is Junna, looking dead tired just like Hikari and Mahiru before her. Junna offers them a polite greeting upon seeing them, unlike Karen earlier. Then she walks right up to the jug of iced tea on the serving table, and pours herself a glass.

“Welcome back, dear. You’ve certainly been gone long,” Kaoruko says trying not to sound too curious about Futaba’s bug catching adventures. Let her have some space Kaoruko reminds herself. It helps to tempt down the battery of questions that are brimming. Sitting up, she offers Futaba the remnants of her iced tea then flaps her fan at her.

“Thanks!” Futaba says. Compared to Junna’s leisurely pace, Futaba practically chugs the tea, even though it’s definitely a little gross now that it’s warm instead of chilled.  As expected Futaba’s face scrunches up with distaste when she finishes the tea. “Geez, it’s gross when it’s this hot.”

“Agreed,” Junna says, making a similar expression. “We should have packed more water…” She sighs.

“Daiba-san will be upset if you haven’t been hydrating yourself in this weather,” Maya comments. She pours Junna another glass. “You do have a propensity to pass—”

“J-just keep it between us!” Junna says hurriedly.

“Sorry, that’s on me this time,” Futaba says. “It got hotter than we expected today and we went out kind of far too so...keep it a secret, okay?”

“Very well. Though, I’m sure she would have been fine in your capable hands,” Maya comments.  

“Of course!” Kaoruko adds haughtiful. Anybody would be fine if Futaba was around. She excels in taking care of people even she has no business too.

“I don’t know about that. Oh, pour her another glass though,” Futaba says when Junna finishes off her second glass.

“M-more?” Junna splutters.

“More,” Futaba insists.

Maya obliges, and fills her glass again. Junna looks at the no-longer-iced tea with more disdain than before, but she drinks it regardless. Albeit slowly.

Satisfied, Futaba nods and turns to Kaoruko. She plucks a Pokeball off her belt.  “Here.” Futaba passes the Pokeball into Kaoruko’s hand. “You better appreciate this, these things are harder to get than we thought.”

“Hmm?” Kaoruko’s eyes widen when a Karrablast pops out of the Pokeball and onto her lap. “That’s where you’ve been sneaking off to this entire weekend? You went to find a Karrablast for me?” She asks a little awed.

Futaba grins, incredibly proud of herself.  “Well? What do you think?”

Kaoruko turns her attention back to the Karrablast.

“It’s coloration...is very normal,” Kaoruko says. The blue color is as plain as most Karrablast. Unsurprisingly.

“Yup,” Futaba says with a nod, expecting her to continue.

Unlike the Shelmet, this Karrablast has a rather thin, almost soft feeling chitin. It’s actually a bit too thin compared to most other hard shelled bug Pokemon. Odd. “Maybe undernourished, or possibly because it has a different diet than other wild Karrablast....” Kaoruko muses. “If it was caught near the city rather than it’s usual habitat?” Kaoruko wonders aloud to herself.

”Swarming bugs, do tend to have very unusual diets, right?” Junna asks, seemingly the only one keeping up with her train of thought, though Futaba nods along to her inspection.

“Hmm. Likely. I’ll see what a new diet will do.” Kaoruko rubs the thin horn gently. It doesn’t jerk away. It chitters and rubs its head into her hand. Kaoruko is delighted. “It’s so bizarre! Look at how docile it is! Just like the others! This is amazing! Such a lucky streak of bugs!”

“You sure are weird about bugs. I can never tell if they’re any good or not!” Futaba says with a huff, but she’s clearly amused. She raises her hands placating when Kaoruko starts to protest.

“They’re all good Pokemon! I know I know!” Futaba laughs. “You said you wanted one didn’t you? So, here it is.” Futaba grins. “Sorry we couldn’t find a Shelmet while we were at it, we tried.”

“I can’t believe this…”

“Woah. Uh. Karen what are you doing over there…? Oh, hey! Look at that! You already got them evolved?” Futaba whistles appreciatively at Karen's new acquisitions. “Damn, and here I thought they were rare as hell. Good for you!” Futaba claps Karen on the back.

“You caught both of them and already evolved them? Argh, I really wanted to see…” Junna groans and sighs.

“You just missed it,” Kaoruko says. “It was certainly something alright.”

Karen stares enviously at Kaoruko’s Karrablast. Kaoruko pets it with a wide smile, just to rub it in a little bit.

“I can’t believe this…” Karen repeats with a dramatic groan.

“What’s with the face, Karen? You’ve got some seriously awesome Pokemon,” Futaba says.

“And we had so much trouble getting just the Karrablast,” Junna adds. “You have them both evolved already…“ Karen only looks more dejected. “Why are you moping more?” Junna asks, utterly confused.

Both of Karen’s new Pokemon abandon her. They push back into Maya space for more poffins, bored with their new unresponsive trainer. They wait patiently while Maya picks out another poffin. Such nice Pokemon, and so well-behaved!

“Indeed, Karen-han,” Kaoruko smiles delighted by Karen’s unusual streak of misfortune. “You should be thankful for such excellent Pokemon.” And they really are nice Pokemon, she wouldn’t mind having a pair of them for herself.

Perhaps sensing that thought, Karen leaps up with determination and then immediately drops back to her knees in deference.

“Kaoruko-chan, please with trade me! I’ll give you both of these Pokemon for that Karrablast!”

“Hmph, no way. Get your own.”

Karen only sighs as if having expected the total rejection. “Yeah, I figured it would be like that.”

“You wanted a Karrablast?” Junna asks with surprise. Karen nods.  “Oh. Now that I think about it...don’t they look a lot like that one character you like a lot…?”

Karen nods eagerly now, momentarily delighted that Junna seems to have recognized it.

Oh. That weird brown slug thing? Or was it a crab?  A cricket? It was on almost all of Karen’s belongings, though not nearly as prominent as Hikari’s obsession with Mr. White or Mahiru’s obsession with Suzdal Cat. Right now, under her overalls, she’s got one of those weird crab...slug... things printed on her shirt.

“They look totally similar, right? So I really wanted a Karrablast!”

Kaoruko doesn’t see the resemblance at all.

“Well...if you want it so bad, I have one. I can trade you,” Junna says, selecting a Pokeball from her belt.

“What? You have one?” Karen jumps from the floor. “Really? JunJun, really? Really, really, really?”  Karen grabs her by the arm, shaking  jumping up and down.

“Really! Now let go! Geez!” Junna huffs. She shakes Karen off.  “While I was out of with Isurugi-san we found these two Karrablast at least. I was hoping we could get another pair but...”

“No, Shelmet though, unfortunately for you, huh Hoshimi?”

“Unfortunately. If we could have gotten enough to see a live evolu—”

Karen immediately cuts off Junna’s long-winded explanation before it gets any steam by grabbing her arm again and shaking it. Kaoruko mentally thanks her.

“Yes!!!! I’m so lucky, thank you! Thank you so much! JunJun! I’m so happy! I’m so glad! JunJun!”

“Okay! Take it easy! I said, let go!”

#revue starlight #appoximately 2800 words #idk i just like pokemon and revue starlight #and sometimes i like writing

[tehrevving]

I know I know, you all sat there earlier when I posted my first crack week fill like: ‘But Rev, that wasn’t NSFW or that cracky’ Well my loves, there’s a reason for that. Here is my second entry for the first day of FFXV Crack Week

This is a spiritual successor to my previous fic ‘Hot Rod Lovin’’ and was inspired by the lovely @mooshinspace and the dream she had after her and I met Ray Chase earlier this year. This particular fic also comes with a special tumblr exclusive author’s reading, because I love you all so much. Trigger warning for Australian accent. 

Ao3 Link

Title: Fishiues Fuckeus

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Inappropriate use of fish and fishing rods

FFXV Crack Week 2018: @ffxvcrackweek

Prompt: Monday - Noctis x Fishing Rod

Also tagging the lovely @lhugbereth

Please imagine Ray Chase reading the following, if you can.

"Ah, what luck we are having today, we seem to have stumbled across a Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prince of Lucis, otherwise known by its taxonomic name Fishiues Fuckeus, in its natural habitat; not only that but we seem to have captured this specimen in the middle of a brutal struggle for its next meal, this is an event that has never before been captured on high definition film.

We shall begin with a brief outline of the Noctis Lucis’ peculiar eating and mating habits, for those who are unfamiliar. This creature will spend its days sat by a body of water and use an external tool known as a ‘fishing rod’ to attempt to lure in and capture various types of aquatic creatures. The predator and its prey will engage in a vicious battle of wits and skill, as the prey desperately tries to escape the clutches of this well adjusted predator. If we are lucky, we may be able to see one of these skirmishes today.

If the Noctis Lucis is successful in reeling in its prey it will then kill the captured animal with a blow to the head before beginning to engage in its most sacred mating ritual.

The Noctis Lucis will insert its engorged genitalia into the mouth of its dead prey and stimulate itself until ejaculation. Afterwards it will then take the captured prey back to its pack where it will be prepared and cooked by the pack second in command. The semen of the Noctis Lucis imparts its meal with more nutritional value, meaning that the pack is able to reduce the frequency at which they are required to hunt.

Here we can see that this specimen currently has its ‘fishing rod’ in the water and is waiting patiently for its prey to take the bait. It is difficult to tell but to a trained eye we can see from the posture of the Noctis Lucis that it has been here for quite some time.

It appears that our valiant predator has been unsuccessful in its hunt today, having given up on its fruitless quest for prey and a suitable semen receptacle. Whilst its pack will accept it returning empty handed without a meal, they will not accept the creature returning without first relieving itself of any excess semen.

If we look closely we can now see the Noctis Lucis unsheathing its genitalia, if we are able to adjust the camera slightly, ah here we go, we will be able to see what is colloquially referred to as its ‘hard throbbing rod.’

Whilst it is quite unusual to see self stimulation in creatures other than humans, the Noctis Lucis has evolved for sexual fluids to play a large role in its digestive cycle and so it tends to produce an excess. Here we can see the Noctis Lucis wrapping its hand around its genitalia and beginning the rigorous process known as ‘jerking off.’

In a rare display we can see the Noctis Lucis has decided to use its external ‘fishing rod’ to assist in its masturbation ritual. The Noctis Lucis has inserted its penis inside of the hook at the end of its ‘fishing rod.’ It will use this to increase stimulation on the tip of its penis while using its hand on the rest; with the end goal being to speed up the process of ejaculation.

If you listen closely, you will be able to hear the Noctis Lucis unleashing its mating cry, which to those of us not quite studied in their language will note that it sounds a lot like the word “Prompto”. It will release this noise just before ejaculation in the hope that this might attract a mate who will assist it. However, it seems like this current specimen is unlucky today and its cry goes unheeded.  

The Noctis Lucis will ejaculate over its fist and over its ‘fishing rod’ before cleaning itself off in the creek. Not only does this serve hygiene purposes but it also means that some of the aquatic life inside the body of water may ingest some of its semen and thus increasing the nutritional value of the prey contained inside this body of water for any future hunts.

That concludes our segment on the hunting and mating rituals of the Noctis Lucis Caelum, we must quickly clear out our equipment before it notices our presence as it returns back to its pack empty handed. We will attempt to follow it with our camera crew but these creatures, collectively known as ‘chocobros’ are fairly elusive and difficult to track. Please stay tuned."

#ffxvcrackweek #my writing #rev writes #noctis #noctis x fishing rod #reading #australian accent #crack fic #fanfic

[ask-me-about-datlof]

Thank You, Friend - Chapter 1

There’s a new friend creeping into the story in this chapter! 

Also, very, very mild blood, and mild alcoholism; don’t day drink at home kiddies.

You can read this chapter and the prologue on AO3.

Time passes quickly when you spend it in the company of good friends. And the year and a half after the flight to the moon passed in seemingly no time at all to Lewis, Simon and Lalnable. After the short time they spent recovering from the trip into space, things began moving quickly. Lewis published the details of their trip, along with the photos they took and the scientific community pounced on the publishings, sending questions, asking details and asking for interviews. It wasn’t long before the mainstream media turned its attention to the trio, formerly reporting their trip to the masses. Of course there were critics, those who didn’t believe that it actually happened; people who believed that the whole thing had been a hoax. But most were amazed and awestruck that a ragtag group composed of only two scientists and one dwarf managed to fly to the moon and back. It was during this time that Lewis first discovered that the red outfit Simon had convinced him to buy had been a Star Trek cosplay, something that he had been wearing during the trip to the moon, something he had shouted at Simon for while the dwarf rolled around on the floor laughing. And after the excitement and hubbub surrounding their trip to the moon died away a little, the three were left in Lalnable’s home wondering what they’d do next.

It was Lewis who came up with the idea of a company dedicated to science; researching, testing and eventually inventing things for the general public to use and hopefully to make their lives easier. Both Lalnable and Simon were thrilled by the idea until the question came; where would they base their new company? They couldn’t use Lalnable’s home because although it had almost everything they could want, it was in the middle of nowhere. The nearest town was quiet and rainy and hardly any of the inhabitants there would be interested in the complex science that Lalnable and Lewis wanted to research. Lalnable had then mentioned Datlof, the large city that lead most of the world’s scientific advancements. Datlof wasn’t as far away as some of the other cities in the world and it was the home of everything science. It was the perfect place to start up their company.  Simon was the one who then came up for the name of the company. He’d been joking around, saying how the three of them were like an “old goon squad” and with a sudden spark of inspiration he’d suggested naming it ‘Ye Olde Goone Squade’, giggling while he’d been saying it. Lewis had instantly decided that that was a stupid name for a scientific company but Lalnable had replied with abbreviating it and adding labs to the end, resulting in the name ‘Yoglabs’. Both Simon and Lewis had liked this idea, and thus Yoglabs was formed.

The trio moved to Datlof and worked at setting up Yoglabs. During the time that Lalnable and Lewis had been rebuilding the spaceship, Simon had been amassing a larger and larger collection of gold; a collection that was used in helping to fund the creation of Yoglabs. Because all three of them played a part in the creation of the company, all three became Co-CEOs, although it was no secret that it was mostly Lewis who was in charge; Lalnable was more interested in his science than actually running a company and Simon was just hanging along for the ride. It took a while to settle into Datlof, finding places to stay and finding a suitable building for Yoglabs to be based in. And once all that was sorted, they began advertising job vacancies. Due to their fame with the trip to the moon, there were a good number of scientists who applied for jobs within the company and it wasn’t long before Yoglabs was up and running.

Growing accustomed to life in the city was difficult for all three. Although Simon had grown up in a dwarven city, his home city was very different to Datlof. In the dwarven city of his home, Simon had been safe underground and the people who surrounded him had all been his height. The buildings had been smaller and more spread out and there was a much larger sense of community. Simon quickly realised he preferred the countryside to the city and so he decided to build himself a small house in the forests around the edge of the city, somewhere where he could stay away from the bustling of the streets and also somewhere where he could set up a small mine for himself. Lalnable had grown up in the country his entire life, most of his contact with people coming from his parents and so suddenly being thrust into the centre of a hive of people and activity was a bit of a shock for him. Although he quickly grew accustomed to the constant life and excitement of the city; the fast pace of a day in the city suiting his lifestyle and feeding into his energy, and the expanse of 24-hour shops and coffee shops was an added bonus, helping him when he stayed awake all night and needed a quick caffeine fix before the next day started. Lewis found the city strange after the quiet solitude of the forest and his friends’ company. But he quickly settled into the city life, almost like it was his natural habitat. Of the three, he spend the least amount of time adjusting to the rush and pressure of the city and Lalnable and Simon quickly realised how charismatic Lewis was. He charmed everyone he talked to and in any given situation, he became the leader; people gravitated towards him like he had some kind of magnetic pull. Lalnable and Simon had introduced Lewis to gin while they were still settling into Datlof after Lewis had complained that he didn’t particularly like any of the alcohol that they had drunk previously. Lewis and gin had been a big success. Lewis had discovered he loved the bitter spirit and would often drink it neat, shocking both Simon and Lalnable. It didn’t take long before Lewis would often have a drink or two of the alcoholic beverage during the day, quickly raising his tolerance and allowing him to drink more. But he never drank enough that he was completely numbed by it or was outwardly drunk.

Despite it being technically illegal to carry weapons around the city, Lewis kept his diamond sword with him at all times, a sword that Simon had made for him while they were still in Lalnable’s house with the diamonds he’d gathered during his mining trips as a thank you to the spaceman. And when police officers questioned him about it, Lewis was able to talk his way out of every situation, claiming that the sword was blunt and not suitable for combat. And they always believed him. After all, a diamond sword? It had to be a fake. And on this particular night, Lewis was very glad he carried his sword around with him.

It was a warm night and the sky was tinted purple with the last remains of the setting sun far to the west. The city streetlights glowed orange, filling the streets with their artificial light. The same glow from the streetlights dulled the stars in the night sky, so only a couple remained visible flickering bravely down to the city below. The air was filled with the sounds of vehicles, conversations and drunken laughter as people walked down the streets, some wandering slowly, others swaying along with friends and others striding along by themselves, walking fast and looking down at the round as they hurried towards their destinations. At this time of the night, most of the people still out on the streets were looking for a good time.

Lewis was walking down the street, heading back to his flat. He was wearing some new clothes that he’d bought in Datlof; a red jacket with gold trim, plain brown trousers and a blue and white striped shirt. He’d decided very quickly he no longer wanted to wear the Star Trek outfit, and his old clothes often drew a lot of unwanted attention, especially because his name was written on the jacket, so he’d bought himself some new clothes with some money loaned from Simon. It was a rather late time to be leaving Yoglabs but staying late was something they still had to do regularly as the company was still in its early days and many things still needed sorting. This night, Simon had left earlier so he could get home and relax; he’d been complaining that he hadn’t been able to relax much in the past few weeks and so Lalnable and Lewis had said he could leave early. Lalnable had decided to stay even later, working on one of his projects which had meant that Lewis was walking home on his own. This didn’t bother Lewis, he’d had to walk home alone multiple times. But it was a lot more fun when he had his friends to joke around with, Lewis though quietly as he watched a group of friends pass him in the opposite direction. They were laughing together and paid Lewis no attention as he walked by them. Lewis sighed and turned down the quiet side street. It was a shortcut to the block of flats where he had rented an apartment. It was amazing how quickly the noise of the main street died away, leaving Lewis even more along as he walked along.

Behind him there was a flash of blue and the piercing noise of a siren as an ambulance shot past the entrance to the street, cars pulling out of the way of the vehicle as it sped by. Lewis glanced back and caught sight of it as it vanished behind the buildings before he continued walking. Further down the street Lewis could see a small group of about 3 men leaning up against a wall. They were talking among each other, their low voices drifting over to where Lewis was. He couldn’t make out what they were saying but he didn’t much care. He just wanted to get back to his flat and relax. Lewis sighed again and picked up his pace, taking a quick sip from the small flask of gin he now carried around with him. The quicker he walked, the sooner he’d be back home. As he approached the men, he noticed how they were either wearing brimmed hats that hid their faces in shadows or masks around the bottom halves of their faces. And it might’ve just been his imagination, but he was sure that they were staring at him, like hunters eyeing their prey. Lewis’s left hand crept down and rested on the hilt of his sword. Just in case. They started moving as Lewis drew closer, moving away from the wall they were leaning on, spreading out in a line in front of Lewis. Lewis slowed down and eyed the three men warily. As he slowed, they walked towards him, circling around until he was completely surrounded. From behind him, Lewis heard the click of a switchblade and he came to a complete stop. The man in front of him drew his own knife and twirled it around in his hands before he began speaking.

“Alright, mate, you’re outnumbered. So make it easy for yourself and hand over everything you’ve got.” Above the small group, silent as a whisper of wind, a large owl flew by, yellow eyes staring down at the collection of men before vanishing into the dark night. Lewis closed his eyes and sighed. He reached over for the hilt of his sword with his right hand.

“Yeah, I might be outnumbered, but haven’t you thought you might be outclassed?” Lewis’s eyes opened and he drew his sword with a flourish. The man in front of him paused for a moment before he laughed. Behind him, the other two men started laughing too. Lewis had sounded brave but he wasn’t feeling particularly good about his chances, especially with them all laughing.

“A sword? Seriously? Come on, dude, there’s no way you can actually use that thing. You’ll just end up hurting yourself.” The man slowly started stepping towards Lewis and a quick glance behind him revealed the other two men doing the same. “Just give us everything you’ve got and we won’t hurt you.”

Lewis took a deep breath and twisted around to face the men behind him. There was a moment when he registered the surprise on their faces but he didn’t wait for them to recover before he knocked his sword into the man’s switchblade, sending it spiralling down to the ground. Lewis then took a wide swing at the two men, sending them jumping backwards to avoid the sharp blade of his sword. While he had no intentions of being mugged, he didn’t particularly want to send them to hospital. Lewis turned around again as he heard the third man, the leader of the little group take a step towards him. He raised his sword as the man jabbed his knife towards him, blocking the attack. This man had a stronger grip on his knife than the other and as a result was able to keep hold of his knife as Lewis tried to knock it from his grasp. Behind him one of the men had regained his nerve and jumped onto Lewis’s back, knocking him forwards. Lewis knew that he’d have to scare them enough to back off or they wouldn’t leave. The man with the knife jabbed forwards again and Lewis struggled to block it with the man still on his back. He jabbed up into the man’s stomach with his elbow as he swung his sword towards the other man, catching the blade on his hand and causing the man to cry out, partly in surprise, as blood began to trickle out of the shallow wound. The man on his back was knocked to the floor, winded, and Lewis backed off a little, managing to escape from the ring they had around him. Now that he could see all three of the men, he felt a little more confident, and a small grin crept onto his face. The two men still standing both had their knives out, the leader glaring towards Lewis. The man that was on the ground was still struggling to catch his breath and Lewis knew he’d be down for a little while longer.

“Come on then.” Lewis beckoned, straightening up and smirking at the two men.

“You fucking bastard!” The leader spat just before he lunged towards Lewis, closely followed by the other man.

Lewis parried their attacks and swung his sword up towards the second man’s face. He tilted his head back to avoid the blow, but the blade still scraped up his jawline, splitting the fabric that was covering his face and drawing blood. The man staggered back as the leader attacked again. Lewis blocked him, but found his own attack blocked by the man. He didn’t wait for the man to act before he pulled his sword back and swung it down on the man’s arm, causing a long deep gash. He cried out and dropped his knife to the floor as he clutched at the wound, blood rapidly soaking into his clothes. One down, two to go, Lewis thought quietly as he stepped by the leader and swung at the man who had just clambered up off the floor, still struggling to get his breath back. He was unprepared for Lewis’s attack and Lewis gave the man a long cut down his leg, causing him to fall to the floor again, crying out in pain. Lewis felt bad at injuring these men, but he didn’t fancy his chances if he’d refused to give them his belongings. Lewis turned to the last man who was backing away slowly, his hands raised slightly in defeat. He was about to let him go when he felt a knife sink into his side. He drew in a sharp breath and spun around, swinging his sword out across the chest of the leader, ripping his clothes and drawing blood. The man stumbled back, breathing heavily.

“I’m getting out of here…” Lewis heard the man behind him mutter just before he could hear the man’s pounding footsteps as he ran.

The injury in his side was hurting more and more, but Lewis ignored it as he looked at the leader of the little group, his sword pointing at the man’s chest. The third member of the group had climbed to his feet once again and was limping away, his hand clutched at the cut on his leg.

“Have you done? Your friends have left.” Lewis said, glaring at the man in front of him. The man gritted his teeth before he slowly backed away.

“Next time, next time you won’t be so lucky!” The man called out before he turned and ran, leaving Lewis alone in the street.

Lewis sighed as he sheathed his sword, thankful he’d been carrying it with him. The injury in his side was burning and he hoped it wasn’t serious. He could do without a trip to A&E. He closed his eyes and sighed again, his hand pressing gently against the stab wound.

“Well that was impressive.”

Lewis turned around, startled at the sound of a woman’s voice. As he turned he caught sight of a woman standing in the street with a large owl resting on her shoulder, its sharp talons gripping tightly to the leather pad that protected her shoulder. The owl had pale tawny feathers that faded into blue at the tips and it was staring at Lewis with bright yellow, unblinking eyes. The woman’s long blonde hair was tied up out the way in a ponytail and her hands were on her hips. She was wearing brown leather boots and dark brown trousers with a pale blue shit that billowed slightly in the air and over her face was a mask, reminiscent of an owls face, where her blue eyes could be seen shining through. It also looked like it could double as goggles with some lenses that Lewis assumed could drop down in front of her eyes when she wanted. Her pale skin was tanned ever so slightly, but the orange of the streetlights hid this fact from Lewis, making her skin seem almost sickly, although he knew he’d look the same under the orange glow. There was a slight smirk on her face as she looked at Lewis.

“It’s not every day that someone can do my job for me.” She said, still smirking slightly at Lewis. At this, Lewis was reminded of reports he’d heard in the news of a vigilante that roamed the streets of Datlof; a woman who used a combination of magic and fighting to deal with the denizens of the night.

“Lomadia, right?” She nodded. Lewis laughed slightly. “Well if I’d known you were coming to help, then I didn’t need to fight so hard. You’ve got nothing to do now!” Lomadia’s smirk widened.

“But I got to watch a good show instead. Sword fighting is a rather strange skill to have.” She moved her gaze to the sword that rested at Lewis’s hip. “And frankly, I’m surprised no one’s stopped you from carrying it around. If you weren’t the victim in this situation, I’d be tempted to turn you into the police.” She lifted her gaze back up to Lewis, still smirking slightly. The owl on her shoulder flapped and rose up into the air, circling once before vanishing.

“Aha, ah well the reason I’ve not been stopped might be because I told the officers who stopped me that it’s blunt.” Lomadia stared at Lewis and he quietly wondered why he was telling this to a vigilante. Suddenly she burst out laughing.

“So you lied to them!” She said once her laughter had subsided a little. She shook her head and looked at Lewis, a grin on her face. “Well, I’ll let you off for the sword, but let me sort you out.” She beckoned for him to come closer and Lewis frowned.

“Uh?” Lewis could see her eyes roll behind her mask slightly.

“You got stabbed. Let me heal it a little for you.” She gestured for him to come closer again, this time a gentle blue glow beginning to surround her hand. Lewis cautiously stepped forwards.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad…” He said, slightly nervous as Lomadia placed her hand over where he’d been stabbed. She remained silent and a few moments later Lewis felt a warmth spreading through the injury, numbing the pain. Then an itching sensation broke out and Lewis could almost feel his skin being knitted back together by Lomadia’s magic. After another couple of seconds she had finished and she stepped back, the blue glow fading away from her hand.

“There you go.” She said, smiling as Lewis ran his fingers over the now healed injury. “I haven’t healed it fully, so be careful not to be too rough, or do anything that might reopen it. But it should save you a trip to the hospital.”

“That’s amazing!” Despite having been in Datlof for a while, and having heard about magic and magic users, this was Lewis’s first time actually experiencing magic first hand. And the scientist inside him was aching to find out more.

“Glad I could help.”

Lomadia smiled and gave a small wave before she leapt up, feathers sprouting from her body, turning her arms into wings as she rose up into the sky, circling upwards before she flew away and out of sight, Lewis staring with his mouth open as she went. He stayed staring for a couple of moments more before he shook himself out of his daze, his fingers once again running over the healed injury. Simon and Lalnable were not going to believe what had happened when he told them tomorrow. Smiling slightly, Lewis began walking again, heading down the street. For a shortcut, this route had taken him a lot longer than usual, Lewis thought, still grinning slightly. Tonight had been rather entertaining overall, but right now the best plan that Lewis could think of, would be going back to his flat and unwinding. He could do with a break.

#Lewis Brindley #Lalnable Hector #Hannah Rutherford #Lomadia #Lewis and Simon #Yogscast #writing #creative writing #Datlof #magic #thank you friend story #Simon Honeydew