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fanfiction-inc · 3 years

Note

If you are still doing the Ns/fw alphabet thing would I be able to request one of Higgs Monaghan?

Oh, but of course! Now I must apologize to you and everyone else for the delay! I have finally been able to finish up some things for college and have a slow period to get some stuff done! I hope you enjoy this!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It all depends on the relationship he is having with the one he’s fucking. If it’s a one night stand, he has no obligation to clean up the other party, much less show them kindness or deliver niceties on his way out. He simply will redress, and leave whoever they are. Something more than a fling, like a friends/enemies with benefits or standard relationship warrants far more sweetness from the terrorist. He’ll wipe you down, clean you up of any mess and offer the sweetest praises. Now this man, despite all the terrible shit he has done, is the sweetest pillow talker, holding you as if he’ll never see you again and reminding you of what you mean to him. He hardly has quality relationships, so having you as a friend (or enemy with benefits) or partner is what he values most.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite part is of course that damn silver tongue he uses to charm you like always and the mouth it resides in. Be it the nicest words you’ll ever hear or the filthiest, he savors how it makes you react. The stammering or stern and silent look away when you blush. The subtle press of thighs or move of an object to cover a ‘growing’ problem. He loves it all. He also loves what he can do with that mouth and tongue that could get you going. Licking along a hot shaft with kitten like flicks of his tongue, or along folds that hold the honey pot he wishes to steal from.

It doesn’t matter the shape, size, or prominence, but Higgs will always be an ass man. Be it cupping it, squeezing it, using it to get a rise or having his cock buried deep, he will always love a good ass. He tends to be more sexual with asses when his partner is male (or presenting male), often finding moments like those intimate in the guy category. The ass on a woman (or presenting woman) is often more for holding, especially for stability when his tongue is buried deep in them.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Anywhere. Literally fucking anywhere. You want it inside you? Done! Want it down your throat? He’ll go right ahead! Want it covering your face or body? He’ll do his damnedest! He loves the sensation of filling you, but fucking hell does he love how it looks on your body and how it decorates you. Of course he finds humor if it gets in your hair or misses you from a wrong angle, but that’s the playfulness in him talking.

Now him taking any form of cum? That’s a different story. He is absolutely okay with cum inside him or down his throat, but he despises spitting it out or having it leak from him. It’s an intimate act to take such from his partner, so he’ll practically beg for it as long as you’re willing to give it!

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

This Particle of God who permeates all existence is by simple definition, a slut. Now, I say slut with all the love I have for him in the world, but it is quite true. Higgs is by far the biggest example of ‘switch’ energy. He wants to be used like a toy, wants to be used for the sake of giving others pleasure. Tie him up, decorate him in leather. Give him a few healthy smacks to the ass, but just know if he’s the dominating force in the relationship, he may never admit such. It’s something he prefers to keep to himself until he finds the perfect partner to open up to about it, so it remains his dirty secret.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Higgs has had some good flings in his time, allowing experience with both men and women alike and giving him a rather good sense of what he’s doing. He’s learned just what his tongue can do, how his words can make the body react. And when he rolls his hips just the right way, oh, he gets the idea and knows how to manipulate it.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Oh, he could never start off without without a good bit of foreplay. Typically with any partner, Higgs prefers a good bit of face sitting or ‘69’ play, though his main objective is to focus on his partner's pleasure. Anything he can do to get his partner off first, he will attempt to do.

When it comes to his partners, the positions vary. Up against a wall, he’d have their legs wrapped around him and fucking up into them. Don’t forget the wandering fingers to a sensitive clit or hand to a weeping dick. Laying down, it’s a toss up between missionary or spooning. Missionary is often used when he wants to keep his gaze locked with his partner's own, where as spooning is for those moments where he wants to hold his partner close. When he’s spooning, this can be for intimacy purposes where he goes slow and deep, keeping the moment drawn on to savor you or your body. But in other times, it’s the moment to jackhammer his hips into you until you’re a shaking mess. On your knees, and he has you in doggy. This position is also used more often for flings where no eye contact has to be made and is quick enough to be over and done with.

Now for himself, especially if it’s with a male/male presenting partner or during an intense pegging session, he’ll be begging for a form of missionary. He much prefers holding his legs up towards himself so his bum is presented to his partner. If you include a nice hand job while fucking him, then he’s done for in that position.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

This man is not only a switch in the dom/sub realm, but he also is in the serious/humorous realm as well. Higgs is often very humorous when it comes to sex, finding ways to make it fun and carefree. He’ll crack jokes, chuckle if something doesn’t go quite right, but above all, he’ll find it fucking hilarious if you joke back. Playful banter is all part of the fun, but sometimes the moment deserves some serious focuses. If his partner is ever down on themselves or their bodies, he’s serious in the moment. He will make fucking sure that they know what they do to him, but also how beautiful/handsome their body is. All encouragement and softness, but lacking the humorous tone. Then, there is the time were the two collide, where pleasure is the main goal.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Grooming isn’t usually a big concern to him, but he does do it here or there. Just like the stubble that grows on his chin, he sometimes just lets it go until it’s so long and thick that it must be taken care of, just like the onsets of a beard. The color is just as dark as his hair, but a little curled as compared to the well kept nature of his hair on top of his head.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

It truly depends on the partner. If this is a one night stand, Higgs won’t hesitate to call it a quick fuck and move on. He’s not going to give his attention or devotion to a person who doesn’t deserve the full on ‘Higgs Monaghan experience’, but if he feels it may be going somewhere, then expect some kisses or sweet words. Maybe even expect a bit of his strong façade to slip in the process.

Now, if you’re his friend/enemy with benefits, or his partner, then here comes the fucking romance train. Sweet, lingering kisses. Gentle brushes along one's skin followed by an unlimited amount of devotion and praise. He will worship the very ground you walk on as long as he gets a piece of you in some way, shape, or aspect. His love will show in every act, even if it’s a quickie or just a straight up fucking session. He may not be too brash, but his reminders will come at a constant, mixed in with lewd conversation and grunted notions.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Being in his clothes, be it his mask or just his cloak, is the best material he can go to for jacking off. Be it imagining you on your back, hands going to work on whatever gets you off while the fabric bunches beneath you, or the idea of you being in control, being ‘him’. Fuck, does it get his mind going and hand going even faster. The easiest thing to do in those moments is to call you up for some straight up dirty talk. If he’s going to be going after release, he wants you to do the same too (or tease the hell out of you until you’re on the brim and need him, because the cocky bastard loves that shit.)

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

BDSM (Bondage, Masochism, and Sadism mostly), Breath Play, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Face Sitting (partner and him), Impact Play, Knife/Weapon Play, Odaxelagnia, Orgasm Denial/ Control, Pegging/Anal, Praise Kink, Strap-on Play (to him), Teasing, Voyeurism, and Worship Kink.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

ANYWHERE. Literally fucking anywhere. He will do it at the Homo Demens base camp, right outside of a Bridges delivery location, or even in the middle of timefall (of course with proper coverage. He would never want you to get hurt by the timefall, nor the BT’s, but it does make it interesting to see how quiet you can stay when they begin to move about. It’s always with an underlying sense of danger or excitement of getting caught that fuels him. But this doesn't stop him when it comes to being home.

When with the Homo Demens, his room at base camp is an often place as well as the community showers. The bunker of Peter Englert, though smaller than a whole base, offers many places as well. These stationary places are his favorite for privacy and intimacy.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Your body, no matter what, is always an automatic turn on. Especially if there is exposed skin involved that he can hold onto or kiss at. He is a total ass man, always loving to grab at it or just keep his hand there when talking. Your ass, watching it as you walk or beneath him sends blood rushing down below and he may as well cum in his pants at this rate because holy fuck, is that ass perfection. He will worship that ass, constantly wanting to caress it or have a handful if you’re on his lap. Your hands are the next thing. Be them wrapped around his cock, grabbing at the sheets beneath you, or simply cupping his cheek in the afterglow, your hands are always the sweetest thing because they can do so many things that can make him fall apart at the seams.

What REALLY gets him going is being taken care of. Higgs is touch starved all to hell, and when he gets any sign of affection or sweetness from you, be it cuddling or kind words, he feels like he’s floating on a damn cloud. When he is being submissive, or is the bottom in the relationship, It’s especially a turn on when being taken care of leads to praise in the bedroom.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will ABSOLUTELY refuse to involve any form of piss or scat in your play. It is an automatic turn off and he may as well be the cause of another voidout just from the mere recommendation of it. He can’t stand the idea of it. Higgs is into a lot of things, but those two will never fall under his category of things that get him going and needy.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

BOTH! BOTH! BOTH! He is an absolute lover of giving and receiving oral! And he isn’t too shabby at it once he gets used to how your body reacts.

When it comes to giving oral, he goes between a mixture of teasing and driving you mad with that damn tongue. Depending on the relationship you share with him, he either dives right in or takes his time with it. If he wants to, he’ll map out your sex, taking in how hard/wet you are, finding what bits make you mewl the loudest or give him the desired effect. He’ll go slow with his tongue, dragging it until you’re trying to get your cock either inside his mouth or his tongue on your clit (either way, he’ll leave you squirming). When he finally gives you what you want, being lavishing your core or sucking you off, he’s at it and he will go until you’re trembling and begging for no more, to which he’ll get one or more out of you just to prove the point that he can.

When it comes to receiving, he is always down for such, but he is more likely to be down for it if he's the submissive partner in the relationship. He would rather worship and tease when in a dominant position. Taking care of you is the best thing in his mind. But being taken care of? Now that is what drives him absolutely wild. He is sensitive when it comes to the tip of his cock being played with, and will fall apart if it's played with.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It really depends on his mood. If he is wanting to be in a kind and sweet mood, he’s slow and passionate, He’ll take his time to make sure you feel nice and good. Keeping eye contact and sweet praising as he takes you, gentle kisses followed by accented thrust that go just deep enough but not too fast to make it fucking. No, that in his mind is perfect for something he isn’t used to, which is love making. If it needs to be quick, or in his mind it’s a sexual punishment, he will be rougher, or faster with you. He’ll fuck you raw and leave you a mess. Either way you’ll be a mess when you’re with Higgs.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He usually has more time for quickies, as he is the entity trying to bring on the next mass human extinction. Of course he loves a good session of proper sex, being able to take his time with you or give you a chance to properly take him. But sometimes those are short lived moments, interrupted halfway through or being stopped before being able to bask in the afterglow because he has to leave. Duty calls, after all. His favorite places for them are generally at the Homo Demens camp, or on the go in some risky area that could accidentally get you guys caught.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

This fucker practically screams risk. Be it public excursions or a new tactic in the bedroom, he’s game. If you want to try something a little more dangerous with him, or something far more kinky then you two already do, he is down. He will always give you a chance to try things with him, and sometimes he’ll see what he can do to help expand your comfort zones by suggesting new situations or experiences. Maybe trying more intensive bondage would be the step up he would try with you from the light bondage you two may already do. Maybe he wants you to try choking him, or maybe YOU want to try choking him. Either way, he is always up for experimentation.

This man, being the exhibitionist he is, is obsessed with the thrill of potentially or actually being caught in the act. It’s something that he would GLADLY introduce you to if he had the chance, wanting that to be the first big experiment if you aren’t already into it. Now mind you, he will respect (generally) your boundaries on most things, but this is one thing that absolutely screams fun in his mind, and it’s so damn risky because you never know who is gonna see!

“Oops, didn’t see ya there Sammy! We’ll just finish up here.”

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

It really depends on the play and the partner. Higgs is a man who can go perhaps three or four rounds at the most, having stamina like a beast if he’s really hyped up for it. Usually this happens when he is in the domineering position, having full control over himself, and whatever control you’ll allow over you, be it full or less than full control.

When he is the bottom, taking whatever is being given to him, he’ll last two rounds at the most because let's face it, Higgs can become overstimulated quickly if the right touches and praises are given. Use the right sensation or hammer down on him when you fuck, and he’ll be a puddle of incoherent speech and needy rambling. Now this doesn't mean you can’t get more out of him, but he’ll be less likely to be as coherent as if he is in full control of the situation.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Oh he most certainly owns them, and he most certainly uses them when he wants to. He’s the kind of guy that if he doesn’t have a partner close by, and he wants to spice up a dirty call or get himself off quicker than he can with his hand, toys are the way to go. Be it dildos, vibrators, anything of the likes, he uses them and he will gladly use them on you or let you use them on him.

He doesn’t usually like using toys in every session, though. Sometimes feeling skin instead of whatever material the toy is is sooooo much better to him because he issued you and he wants to fuck properly. Now if you’re a person who requires the extra stimulation from a toy while you’re enjoying each other, then by all means, he’ll incorporate it somehow so that you get exactly what you need. Some people just need that extra push, and he is happy to supply!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Excuse me, have you met this man? He is the ultimate tease! Especially publicly. He loves to get you hot and bothered or embarrassed and riled up when he’s around. Sinfully delicious comments against your ear or tracing motions through your clothes until you’re needy and he leaves you like that until you’re alone. In the bedroom, he will do whatever it takes to have his partner either be a begging mess or be so fed up with him that he gets exactly what he wants.

For a submissive partner, he likes to use his tongue the most to tease. Trailing along your chest, or over sensitive nipples. Light flicks to extra sensitive areas below the belt, be it the tip or sweet spot on a cock or the bundle of nerves between a woman's legs. Light kisses or nips to the inner thighs just to get you squirming, that man will do so until you get a bite to your voice or just needy enough to give you what you want. Then again, sometimes he likes the torture of continuing the teasing until you’re vision is blurry with tears and you can’t utter any other word than ‘please’.

With dominant partners, he will make every move or command he gets into a tease. Taking his clothing off too slowly, tracing his tongue too long or not putting enough pressure. Sometimes his kisses will pull away too quickly as to tease you. But that teasing is gone the moment you put him in his place, then he is the most compliant creature ever.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make

He is like a fucking air raid siren when he’s being taken, but his volume isn’t nearly as when he’s doing the taking over having someone on top of him in the form of riding. He’ll moan, that is for sure, but the most common noises are the high pitched hitches in his breathing or the grunts that come when he’s pistoning his hips to bring you over the edge. He may give a growl if the fucking is more aggressive, or he may release and airy chuckle from time to time if you two are having more fun than seriousness.

W = Wild Card (Random Headcanon)

He is more than happy to dress in some kind of outfit for your sexual encounters. Be it a Bridges outfit because he knows you get off from him playing as the unknown stranger at Bridges, Peter Englert, or a Fragile uniform because fuck do you love leather, he’s down. He’ll happily wear panties if you like him in feminine undergarments, happily dress with cock cages and leather straps if you want to see him in such. He’ll even stay in the mask if you ask, but when it comes to dressing up, he isn’t limited to dressing himself. He absolutely adores when you wear his mask, or wearing his cloak to cover your nude form.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He may not be the longest or the girthiest, but Higgs has a nice package. He’s about six inches long when fully erect, so about average (in American standards). He can go from well trimmed to near unmanageable depending on his mood, and also the partner. Some prefer hairless, some don’t mind the all natural look.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Pfft. Have you met this needy man? I mean seriously? He is OBSESSED with sex. Borderline nymphomaniac if you must, Higgs is constantly down for a good time as long as he has time. His big plans for the end of existence come first, but he will gladly give you his all or take whatever is given as long as he gets to enjoy it. He may ask for company more often than once a day given the day, or sometimes he’ll wait till it’s a time restrained time for you and get as much as he can until you just HAVE to do whatever it is you do. He can wait, but it only gets him more hyped for whatever will happen next, and sometimes it’s torture to him with waiting too long.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Out like a fucking lightbulb. He may stay up for a few for some aftercare either giving or receiving, maybe even some light banter, but generally he’s so worn out that he is O.U.T out! That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t like to stay up and chat the night away. Sometimes he does, sometimes he falls asleep like a light sleeping rock, and other times he’s having to redress to start whatever is next in his grand plan.

#higgs monaghan x reader #higgs monaghan #death stranding #lovely anon #thank you anon #anon ask

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smarti-at-smogwarts · 3 years

Text

Theo Abbott Profile

Identity

Name: Theodosia -Theo- Jane Abott

Gender: ....-throws peruvian powder bomb- gender neutral tho she doesn't have the label for it.

*She goes by she/her pronouns though

Age: varies depending on when I’m writing her.

Birth Date: January 11th XXXX

Species: Human

Blood Status: Half-Blood.

Sexuality: Queer af. Bisexual. Arospec.

Alignment: Chaotic Good.

Ethnicity: Mixed.

Nationality: English

Residence: Godrics Hollow. Abbott home.

Myer Briggs Personality Type: ENFP-T [ Turbulent Campaigner ]

The Mage

Wand: Ebony. Dragon heartstring. 13 inches. Quite Flexible.

This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters. In my experience the ebony wand’s perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose.

As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner.The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.

Animagus: Pine Marten

Misc Magical Abilities: Unknown undecided magical ability. ( will be edited when I figure what i want her hphl ability to be) Animagus.

Boggart Form: Theo is terrified of being forced to be something she’s not or being trapped. This shows itself by a square room with no windows popping up in front of her. The walls the start closing in on her.

Riddikulus Form: The walls collapse like the sides of a carboard box.

Amortentia ( what she smells like) : Parchment and ink. Crisp night air. Cinnamon cloves Pine trees.

Amortentia ( what she smells) : Misc smells that represent different people from the Taghd Lynch Defense Squad/her closest friends. Firewood burning. Lemon cakes. Fresh cut grass ( from the quidtich pitch)

Patronus Memory: She’s at the Hogwarts common room goofing around with her housemates and friends. Basically her realizing she’s found a place to be herself and accepted as she is.

Mirror of Erised: Her happy and content and herself in her own home with her writing and her cat and her friends and the fuck away from Godric’s Hollow.

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

At Hogwarts_ Anything you can use on a prank. Some defensive spells as while Hogwarts was fairly accepting of her she did get a bit hassled ( there’s always that one occasional asshole) about both being a girl in the quidditch team and how she chooses to dress out of uniform. Some offensive spells from when she got into fights/duels in the halls along Taghd and Teddy. Her best spells are the ones used to sneak around her mother and grandmother.

Out Of Hogwarts_ While not a spell, apparition becomes her most used magical feat as she likes to visit her friends as they all settle into her adult lives. She also learns a bit of healing spells from either Adelia or Teddy ( and at both their insistence that if she’s going to be getting into trouble out there she should be able to patch herself up a bit. )

*In the Taghd Dies Verse where she becomes an auror she adds a lot of offensive spells to her arsenal “best defense is a good offense right?” Theo no.

Appearance

Faceclaim: Saoirce Ronan

Game Appearance: N/A

Height: 5′6′’ by year 7.

Weight: Average weight for her height.

Physique: On the thin side. Somewhere between rectangle and hourglass boy shape wise. Has muscle on her due to Quiditch. Strong facial features.

Eye Colour: Light blue

Hair Colour: Dirty Blonde as a child. Darkens with age. Often untidy from running or flying and held up/back.

Skin Tone: Fair

Body Modifications: None

Scarring: Has a set of diagonal scars on her leg from when she tried to play with a splintered bat during a quidditch match. A few random scars from scrapes from school that got a little too rough before being broken up.

Inventory: parchment. Quill. Ink. A Claddagh ring from Taghd. Random and assorted books. Notes from her friends. Her wand. Hair pins. ( she keep forgetting she has them there so she just stuffs more in her bag. No one knows how many she has in there by now, not even her)

Fashion: https://www.pinterest.com/xhowling/theo-jane-abbott/#fashion

*Theo tends to prefer Hogwarts robes and wizard fashion in general more as they’re more gender neutral. ( as in both genders wear robes though they differ in style and in Hogwarts case they do not differ at all from one gender to the other) so she wears them more.

When it comes to muggle clothing she’s most comfortable on cable knit sweaters and plaid ( though she favors the former a lot more) because she used to steal Taghd’s though if she has to “dress up” she’ll wear more masc fashion. She’s influenced by Teddy’s fashion sense a bit for that. She also wears her Gryffindor tie even after leaving Hogwarts but with dress robes/a shirt and vest instead.

She tends to prefer more muted colors with like accents of one color or one point of color (i know nothing about fashion please bear with me. Hopefully the pinterest helps)

Allegiances

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor.

Ilvermorny House: N/A

Affiliations/Organizations: Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Taghd Lynch Protection Squad. Gryffindor house.

Professions: Student. Writer/Anthologist. Becomes an auror in the Taghd Dies Verse.

Hogwarts Information

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆☆☆☆

Charms: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆☆☆☆

DADA: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆☆

Flying: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Herbology: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆☆☆☆☆

History of Magic: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆☆☆

Potions: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★☆☆☆☆☆☆

Transfiguration: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆☆☆☆

Electives:

Apparition

Muggle Studies

Study of Ancient Runes

Quidditch: Plays as Chaser and Beater reserve.

Extra Curricular: Does writing count?

Favourite Professors: I think she’d like both Atticus Irwin Grimsley ( @cursebreakerfarrier ) and Toby Moore ( @unfortunate-arrow )

*Will probably add teachers as more details of the games are release

Least Favourite Professors: Pretty much any teachers that have issues with how she dresses or are of the snobby pureblood category are a safe bet.

*Will probably add teachers as more details of the games are release

Relationships

Misc Siblings: None. Theo is an only child.

Father: Unknown atm. All Theo knows is he was a muggleborn wizard.

Mother: Emily Abbott

Love Interest: N/A

*arospec but might have fwb/flings as she figures things out and possibly a platonic life partner/partners in the future. Most likely will end up living with friends as family either way. ( the friends she lives with may even have spouses of their own just...a bunch of friends living in a house as family)

Best Friends: Taghd Lynch ( @unfortunate-arrow ) Lu Morrison ( @rosievixen ) Arthur -Teddy- Elllsion ( @cursebreakerfarrier ) Adelia Selwyn ( @that-ravenpuff-witch)

Rival: She hates Cillian Lynch ( @unfortunate-arrow) and Ernest Ellson ( @cursebreakerfarrier) bc they are unkind to her boys/two of her closest friends. I can imagine they do not like her that much ( seeing as Theo’s about as secretive and sublte about not liking people as a wrecking ball through the wall)

Enemy: tbd

Dormmates: Lu Morrison ( @rosievixen) 3rd and 4rth room mates unknown atm.

Pets: Theo adopts a niffler in the future once she’s out of Hogwarts. Her family has very strict rules about owning pets though at some point in Hogwarts she adopts a stray cat and somehow manages to keep it a secret even when/if she has to go back home for Holidays.

Closest Canon Friends: tbd

Closest MC Friends: Taghd Lynch ( @unfortunate-arrow ) Lu Morrison ( @rosievixen ) Arthur -Teddy- Elllsion ( @cursebreakerfarrier ) Adelia Selwyn ( @that-ravenpuff-witch ) Fred Morrigan ( @ljthebard1) Gabriel Sapieha ( @lizzieparkerhphm ) Danny Gibbson ( @catohphm )

Background/History

Pre Hogwarts: Theo was an “indiscretion” born to Emily Abott and an unknown ( to most) muggleborn wizard. The family kept her, fed her, made sure she knew the proper way for an Abott to act, but there was no affection to this and Theo sometimes wondered if it wasn’t only out of duty that her family did all this. After it becomes obvious that Theo who dresses in boy’s clothes, never keeps a comment inside her mind, and buckles against the propriety forced upon her more and more as the years pass is not going to be changing to fit what her family thinks she should be; it’s decided to send her to Hogwarts where she’ll at least be kept out of sight.

4th Year: Was sent to Hogwarts by her family to be kept out of sight and hopefully shape up ( with the added sentiment that if she does not, at the very least she’ll be out of sight) Met Taghd Lynch, Lu Morrison, Teddy Ellison and Adelia Selwyn.

5th Year: tba

6th Year: tba

7th Year: tba. Graduates with her friends. Though she undoubtedly has to leave some behind as I can see her befriending underclassmen.

Out of school: At some point she moves back closer to Teddy either because she received the news that Taghd died or that Taghd almost died. ( depending on the “canon” or “Taghd Lives AU”)

At some point she might adopt a daughter who is as chaotic as she was and then some ( though much more open and less angry/defensive because Theo’s a better parent than her mother )

In the Universe where Tagdh dies she becomes an Auror alongside Teddy.

At some point she cuts her parents off Completely ( no letters, no firecalls, nothing absolutely nothing) whether this happens because they did something that just got to her too much or it was more a case of her getting away and going “wooow they’re actually horrible to me” remains to be seen but she’ll come to rely on her friends for moral support and also to figure out how to live on her own without their monetary support.

Spoils her friends’ kids so so much ohmygosh she loves them.

Old Age & Death: tbd

Personality

Temperamental and impulsive ‘’jump now, think later’’/’’it looked like a good idea at the time’’ sort of person. Disaster Bisexual. Gets angry quick but it fades just as quickly. Frank, warm, empathetic. Honest-sometimes too honest- The one in a friend group to try to make people laugh. Will encourage you to hex someone who hurts you ‘’hell I’ll help you/cover for you’’ (That Friend) the opposite of the common sense friend. ( ‘’sounds illegal, I’m in.’’ )

Theo’s general status is defensive which to her can often be loud and assertive ( and a bit abrasive though she’s usually sorry about that last one when it happens) due to insecurities that took root during her time with her mother and her family To wit, she believes she needs to defend the way she is subconsciously since it was often the case at home and this leaks into her personality. When she met all her friends her first setting was “im like this and Deal with it” expecting resistance but when she met none ( as her friends all accepted her for who she is) she became a lot less so. ( shes still loud and chaotic as that's also part of who she is but she’s a lot less defensive afterwards.)

Has a really loud laugh. When she’s goofing with her friends or talking to them and laughing with them you can hear it echo through the halls.

Is sort of...a loud person in general.

Theo’s a passionate individual and incredibly stubborn when she sets her mind to something.

Skips the sad/crying phase and goes straight to angry. Might or might not have “/don’t cry/show weakness” complex. Her other emotions however are expressed be they annoyance, happiness ( her laughter Echoes through the corridors when she’s happy about something) excitement ect ect ad infinitum.

Her poker face is shit though. She couldn’t keep her opinions through herself if she tried. Her face will say them for her.

She’s fiercely fiercely protective of her friends and found family. ( see: “would happily hit Teddy’s dad with a blugger if she finds out about him being abusive ‘’curses out ppl who say mean things to Adelia or Lu and half the time will wind up throwing down for it” and of course “I’m actually going to Kill Cillian” circa Taghd’s duel in the Taghd lives AU as examples)

Misc:

Theo’s animagus form is a Pine Marten. She learned it specifically so she could get out of the house which she often found overbearing due to her mother, grandmother, and aunts attitudes towards her.

While her family kept her, fed her and clothed her it was done out of combination of duty and not wanting to waste magical blood. They might have love for her but it’s very clearly overridden by ( if not outright contingent on) their need forTheo being the kind of child they think she ought to be which she is very much not and only grows to stray more and more from it as she grows up)

Theo sometimes does suspect they did it more out of duty than any love but tries not to think about it deeply or think about them at all if she can help it ( and with an entire castle to explore with friends and mischief to manage with those same friends it becomes quite easy)

She has a fascination for the muggle world because it was her father’s world and the part of her her family shuns and kept her from knowing about.

She’s often in trouble with either Taghd or Teddy ( or both) or Lu ( or all three) and the teachers might or might not have a running tally of which combination causes the most chaos.

Theo learns Gaelic from Taghd-they start with the swear words and then she just really wants to learn the language.

Whereas Taghd tends to complain about getting dragged into fights by Teddy and her but does it Theo’s more like you feel the air shift next to you and...yup. Yup she’s there.

If her friends are in a fight nine out ten times she’s there too. That one of ten times she’s not there, she’s going to be soon.

Theo’s a night owl and can often be found the last in the common room reading or writing or talking to Taghd or Teddy or Lu. Sometimes she’ll sneak out to fly. ( specially on really clear nights)

She’s perfected the art of wolfing down breakfast in the last minutes before going to class or even just grabbing a piece of bread and running off to class because of this. As it'll lead to her oversleeping.

Adelia’s her mom friend and possibly one of the few people that can tell her what to do without her going ‘how bout i do anyways.png’

She writes a lot and can be seen talking animatedly about it mostly to fellow writer friend Teddy Ellison.

She’s bit Taghd’s brother Cillian in her animagus form at least once. It was the subject of laughter in the Gryffindor table for a good week after. Theo, ( who keeps her animagus form a secret aside from her closest friends because its a way she has to get away from people or hide or cause trouble when she wants to) becomes very interested in whatever’s in front of her and trying not to laugh when it gets brought up.

She gets really attached to Teddy’s mom ( and is a bit jealous of how nice a mother her friend has) as she both from her experience and what she gathers from Tagdh and other friends of hers she didn’t...think parents could be nice? Like empirical evidence just overall does not seem to be in their favor tbh (specially mothers) and she’s mystified by her and overall thinks she’s wonderful.

This also means she dislikes Teddy’s dad that much more ( though she keeps it to herself around Teddy’s mother ) because as far as she’s concerned he doesn’t deserve her or Teddy with what some of his actions are.

Tends to be physical with her close friends ( bumping shoulders, linking arms as they walk hand on shoulder) though on different levels depending on the different dynamics and how comfortable they themselves are with it.

She hates all the propriety she was brought up with ( one of the bonding things she Taghd had was their shared lack of decorum) but one of the things she enjoyed to learn back in Godric Hollow was calligraphy. She stills practices it as a hobby, keeping multiple colors of ink in her room at Hogwarts and later in life. She likes making calligraphy for her friends and also when they’re adults makes calligraphy for each of their children with their favorite stories.

Finally did a proper profile for Theo.

I’m hoping to get back to doing more content ( including other profiles for mcs I’ve mentioned and going back to my hphm kiddo Marti and writing out gameplay now that I have more spoons. Figured this was a good place to start.

Profile skeleton by @hogwartsmysterystory

#my mc #my profiles #hphl #Theo Abbott

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thatfriendlyecho · 4 years

Text

Sanders Sides AU: Modern Kingdom of Imagineria

Finally I make one of these! My 8 month writer’s block has finally diminished for now and I’ve decided to make an AU I’ve been working on for about a year (among other things).

This is a Modern Fantasy AU, where technology and real life bullshit exists alongside magic. As all good Sanders Sides AUs go, there will be ships. If you want a non-ship esque AU, leave now because there is a whole lotta LAMP.

Anyway, let’s get right into the character descriptions!

Roman Olivers (Dragon-Hybrid, 16)

Roman was born in Manchester, and even after moving to the modern Kingdom of Imagineria at the age of six, he still has a slight English accent.

Roman and his twin brother, Remus, were adopted after their mother was found dead curled around her children in the Endless Forest, just on the outskirts of Manchester. Their adoptive parents, a pair of now ex-dragon hunters, found the twins and took them in as their own.

They moved a few years later, after their mother’s scent vanished and they could leave without the twins remembering her anymore.

Roman’s mother was a fully-grown ruby-scaled dragon (presumably the last of her kind, according to his parents), and he has visible scales of his own on his shoulders, back of his hands, cheeks, neck and forehead.

He is not a full dragon, and he and his brother are half-human. (Or dragonborn, for all of you D&D buffs. Except that he’s mostly human in appearance)

Roman is insecure about his dragon heritage, and as such he grew a slight hatred for dragons. He has often stated that he would slay dragons that ever even set foot near his family.

He doesn’t have wings, but instead has a scaly tail that sprouts from his lower back.

He trips people sometimes, but don’t tell his mother.

All in all, he has serious body dysphoria.

He’s overly protective of his loved ones.

He’s been suspended twice, once because someone made fun of Remus right in front of him, and another time because someone was bullying Virgil.

Roman can create small flames from his mouth, though those have mostly been by accident. This usually occurs when he laughs too hard.

Roman and Virgil didn’t get along for a very, very long time. He eventually started catching feelings for him when he showed up to his front step on his birthday with a woven blanket that he still has not washed to this day.

Roman met Patton and Logan at a library, where Logan snapped at him for flirting with Patton while he was working.

He sings Disney songs on the regular as a coping mechanism.

He’s currently a sophomore in high school that works as his neighbor's babysitter.

Patton Hazir (Harpy, 16)

Patton was born in the Endless Forest, and when he left it for the first time, he appeared in Imagineria.

Patton’s name is actually completely different, but he doesn’t go by it because it’s too complicated to pronounce.

His nickname was Pat because that was the only part of his name that Logan could pronounce. The last name was a random sound he made after stubbing his toe, which kills his friends to this day.

Harpies become independent of their parents after ten years old, and as such don’t have the obligation to return home every night. Since he wanted to go to school, though most harpies don’t want a modern education, he still lives with him.

His parents are very sweet, and naturally they don’t mind.

Patton looks mostly normal, as harpies disguise themselves to present normally to the human eye. The things that seriously stand out about Patton is the fact that he has no ears, he has a few small feathers in his arms that he can’t conceal, and he has talons for feet.

When Patton is in his true form, he has eagle-like feathers sprouting from his arms in varying shades of soft blue. His waist down morphs into the bottom half of some large eagle, tail feathers and all. His torso and head remain as is.

As time progressed, harpies became more docile, and are now not such predatory monsters. They are still extremely territorial and it is unwise to cross a flock, but they are actually very friendly in comparison to a century ago.

Patton is the prime example of the kindest harpies to ever exist in the history of...ever.

He literally smiles at the sun when he wakes up what kind of-

Many people, especially those who are much older, still regard him with a watchful eye.

Patton thinks basically everything is cute. You could show him an imp and he’d pinch its cheek. (He's done this before and he regretted it immediately after)

The biggest challenge for him was Virgil, who we’ll get to in a moment.

They have some really cute moments together.

He can sing, though he’s really shy about it so it rarely ever happens.

His voice sounds enough like music that nobody complains (often).

Patton also has an insane love for sugar cookies, and whenever he’s stressed, he stress-bakes.

Since he doesn’t have a “modern home” in the forest, he usually shows up at Roman's or Virgil's house with a bunch of cookie ingredients.

He has a tendency to steal food, and can’t go into a grocery store without being closely watched.

He received a joke book from Logan on his birthday, and he regrets it. You cannot say anything without him making a pun.

He’s currently a sophomore in high school, and he assists the librarian at the Public Imaginative Library. He doesn’t get paid, and simply loves helping out. That’s how he met Logan.

Logan (Dryad, 14)

Logan was born in the Endless Forest without true parents, being as he is a tree nymph, or a dryad.

Logan was sorely misguided after he was birthed from Mother Earth, and as such he became very curious very, very quickly.

Mere minutes after being born, he wandered to a riverside and was almost killed by a hungry, stranded mermaid.

Luckily he morphed into a tree right at the bank of the river right before she could fatally injure him.

He has a bite mark on his side, which has healed into a scar from the mermaid attack.

Logan was not born naturally smart, and was in fact very naive at birth. He was curious, and never thought of the consequences of his actions until he left the forest and entered Imagineria.

When Logan left the forest, he hid in public parks, where he changed into his tree form for extended amounts of time.

Logan is a dryad, meaning that in Imagineria, if he wished to pursue an education, he could enroll for school on his own. When he learned how to read (he was 3), he became addicted to knowledge, and enrolled himself.

He skipped a grade, which is why he's so young.

The first word that he learned was "falsehood", and he found it very useful after he became friends with Patton, Roman, and Virgil. It is now his favorite word, and he gets very happy when he reads it somewhere.

The library became his home away from home, which is where he met Patton.

Logan is really book smart, NOT street/survival smart. He knows how to transform into a tree when faced with danger, but he doesn't know how to fight per sey.

Logan's appearance is humanoid in nature (no pun intended), and he has the palest skin tone of all the others. There's a slight green tone to his skin, and he sometimes grows small blue flowers that appear in his hair. He also has pointed ears and long claws that he can retract.

He can see well enough, but after meeting Patton, he grew envious of his glasses and made his own out of branches. Don't tell Patton that.

Logan gave himself his name. He doesn't have a last name because he finds it unnecessary.

Logan is a full-blown vegan, and the others need to take this into account whenever they eat together. He doesn't eat often, but he loves fruit and berries.

He's currently a junior in high school.

Virgil Anansi (Arachne, 14)

Virgil was born with the Curse of Arachne, as his family were a mischievous bunch of practicing witches and wizards. This basically means that they angered the ancient spider spirit and she cursed each generation's first born with the Curse.

Virgil was homeschooled until he was of high school age. He's extremely anti-social and insecure because of it.

Much like Roman, Virgil has body dysphoria, though not as badly due to his family.

The Anansi family is a pretty wild and close family, though they experiment with questionable black magic often. They were shunned from society after crossing Arachne.

Had it not been for his curse, Virgil would be classified as an Anansi Witch.

Virgil has three little sisters (triplets), a baby brother, two really weird fathers, a feral uncle who lives in the basement, a grandmother that drinks enough alcohol to poison a large pony, and a familiar for each of them. That makes 9 people and 9 familiars living together.

Virgil's familiar is ironically a spider, a palm-sized tarantula named Kisa.

Virgil had never felt different until he grew up and had to go to school. He was never bullied physically until he showed vulnerability in public.

Virgil's bangs only cover a little bit of his forehead, where three extra pairs of eyes are. They're a pupiless, orchid purple (as Logan dubbed them), and he can't make them vanish like his extra limbs and abdomen. He has fangs, but they're pretty small and elongate when he's hunting. On his back there is a "tattoo" of three purple diamonds.

Often times, when Virgil is being sulky, he makes spider silk blankets and scarves in his room while he listens to classical music.

Depending on what kind of music he listens to effects the sturdiness of his webs. Classical isn't his favorite genre of music, but he can't exactly listen to My Chemical Romance while trying to make an intricate design.

Virgil is an absolute sass master, and normally wins verbal arguments. (You can probably guess who he argues with the most.)

He convinced Patton to sing with him in the school talent show, and they sang Lovely Night from La La Land.

Virgil and Logan are the youngest of their friend group, though often times they feel like they're the ones reeling the oldest ones in.

Virgil's the youngest, and he's treated like the group's baby more often than not.

He and Patton were not super close at first because the harpy was afraid of spiders, and Roman hated his guts for reasons he still won't confess to. He had a hard time making friends with Logan because he was just as awkward if not worse.

He and Patton got really close after an incident caused Patton to break his arm, and Virgil nursed him back to health with potions and a whole lotta cuddling. It was cute.

Virgil met Roman first, which was the worst first impression he had ever given off. Especially since he immediately thereafter had a gay panic.

Virgil is a freshman in highschool, and eventually creates a job in which he creates spider silk blankets and sells them online.

These are the main four's character descriptions, but I can go into depth character appearances, character stories, the modern Kingdom of Imagineria, the Endless Forest, etc. I'm planning on writing the main plotline on AO3, but I haven't decided yet.

I guess I'll have to see. Mkay byee~

#sanders sides au #sanders sides #alternate universe #au #fantasy #modern fantasy au #lamp #modern kingdom of Imagineria #what even #this took so long

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simplysoriya · 5 years

Text

LFC: Soriya Duskhaven

Character Chart

Character’s Full Name: Soriya Amare Duskhaven

Reason or Meaning of Name: Her middle name is latin for beloved. Though it holds no real meaning in the Warcraft universe..

Character’s Nickname/Alias: Sori, Sunshine, The Only Decent Duskhaven

Reason for Nickname/Alias: When its not just a shortened version of her name it’s usually personalized. Like her father calls her Sunshine. Anyone who knows the family uses the last one.

Birth Date: August 14th

Physical appearance

Age: 27

How old does he/she appear: Relatively young and vibrant, full of life

Weight: 145lbs

Height: 6’

Body build: Athletic, toned, petite

Shape of face: Soft, rounded, a bit of a square jaw

Eye color: Turquoise

Glasses or contacts: N/a

Skin tone: Very tan & sunkissed

Distinguishing marks: A particularly bright smile

Predominant features: See above

Hair color: Chestnut with faded blonde highlights

Type of hair: Long & wavy, reaches down passed her shoulders

Hairstyle: It varies, she usually wears it down but will frequently wear it up when active

Voice: Energetic, slightly high pitched, enthusiastic, sometimes hints of sarcasm

Overall Attractiveness: 10/10 (Biased opinion). Very fit, cute, and generally all around attractive personality

Physical Disabilities: N/a

Usual Fashion of Dress: Bohemian, chic, athletic, traditional, or a mix of the aforementioned. It varies.

Favorite Outfit: She likes floral bikinis

Jewelry or Accessories: It varies, usually nicknacks and trinkets she has picked up from her journeys. Nothing too flashy, usually not valuable items. Think like driftwood carvings or handmade bracelets.

Personality

Good Personality Traits: Compassionate, understanding, easy going, kind, thoughtful, probably some other things that just aren’t coming to at the moment. But on theme with those.

Bad Personality Traits: Soriya is a bit naive at times, can be quick to comment without thinking, generally a bit of an airhead from time to time, she can also be distant.

Mood Character is Most Often In: Cheerful

Sense of Humor: Sarcasm and teasing, body comedy, light jokes

Character’s Greatest Joy In Life: Making others smile

Character’s Greatest Fear: Losing someone she’s close with

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil?: At this current point in time? Likely just Kirollis passing on.

Character Is Most at Ease When: Meditating

Most Ill at Ease When: They know someone's ill intentions but trying and be nice to them anyways

Enraged When: I have yet to think of something that would make her go off in a rage.

Depressed or Sad When: She feels like she’s alone in the world

Life Philosophy: Don’t worry, be happy. Akuna Matada. Whatever floats your boat.

If Granted One Wish, It Would Be: To meet her mom, five minutes would be fine.

Character’s Soft Spot: Animals, orphans, people in general, those who have had it rough

Is This Soft Spot Obvious to Others?: It may be hard to spot given her usual sunny disposition.

Greatest Strength: Optimism

Greatest Vulnerability or Weakness: Benefit of the doubt

Biggest Regret: She doesn’t have any, mostly by choice

Minor Regret: See above

Biggest Accomplishment: I want to say she’s proud of who she’s become. That’s likely, to her, her greatest accomplishment. Feeling like she’s a good person.

Minor Accomplishment: Achieving the rank of Master among monks

Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: The time she broke her leg on a dragon hunt.

Character’s Darkest Secret: A stuffed animal collection. It’s not really secret. Or dark.

Does Anyone Else Know?: Maybe?

Goals

Drives and Motivations: Wandering, being the change in the world, brightening up other peoples lives

Immediate Goals: Making sure her students have the tools they need to succeed, and the outlook needed to tackle life

Long Term Goals: Seeing all that Azeroth has to offer. Helping her father through his issues and guilt. Making a change in the world.

How the character plans to accomplish these goals: Exploring, compassion, and heart- in that order.

How Other Characters Will Be Affected: Kiro’s gonna cry a lot.

Past

Hometown: Silvermoon

Type of Childhood: Rough, mostly. When she was in the orphanage resources were very slim and the amount of orphans were very high. It’s why she left in the first place.

Pets: Any dog that she sees.

First Memory: That’s rough, probably listening to other orphans express pain and loss following Arthas’ yeet to the Sunwell.

Most Important Childhood Memory: Leaving the orphange

Childhood Hero: She used to think her parents were valiant knights who fought the undead. She kind of idolized the renditions she imagined..

Dream Job: She likes teaching young ones.

Education: Lacking. She has the traditional education of probably 5th grade. (Not to say she’s stupid, though)

Religion: She’s devoted mostly to Pandarian teachings. But early on it was very muddled and confusing.

Finances: Poor

Present

Current Location: Wandering Azeroth

Currently Living With: Whatever wildlife is near her at the time she makes camp. Alternatively her father.

Pets: Turtles. She also adopts animals all the time, which her dad then goes and finds homes for.

Religion: None that I can surmise

Occupation: Teacher

Finances: Wealthy

Family

Siblings: None at the moment

Relationship With Them: N/A

Spouse: N/a

Relationship With Them: N/a

Children: N/a

Relationship With Them: N/a

Other Important Family Members: Really just her dad and her aunt are left. She hasn’t gone and tried to start one on her own.

Favorites

Color: Sea blue

Least Favorite Color: Orange

Music: Classic Rock, pop, new school, techno

Food: Tacos

Literature: She doesn’t read a bunch. But she likes upbeat fiction, or self help books.

Form of Entertainment: Magazines

Expressions: A bright smile

Mode of Transportation: Boats

Most Prized Possession: A picture of her mom

Habits

Hobbies: Painting, hiking, climbing, surfing, swimming, martial arts, yoga, interior design, fashion

Plays a musical instrument?: Soriya can’t really play much. But she does know how to pick at a ukulele from time to time

Plays a sport?: Any that she comes across. Though soccer is a favorite, as well as volleyball.

How she would spend a rainy day?: Dancing in it. She likes the rain, or really any form of water.

Spending Habits: She has her days where she’s a shopaholic. Though since she came into family money, she’s splurged a lot more then she used to.

Smokes: Thistle sometimes

Drinks: She has a lot of brewmaster friends

Other Drugs: Not repulsed, but not on her to-do list

What does he/she do too much of?: Use qualifiers- ‘like’ ‘sorta’ ‘I mean’ before speaking, or woven into her speech

What does he/she do too little of?: Take a minute to just breath

Extremely Skilled At: Mistweaving

Extremely Unskilled At: Singing

Nervous Tics: Nervous or unusual laughter

Usual Body Posture: Upright, relaxed, calm

Mannerisms: Bright, welcoming, animated gestures, talks with her hands

Peculiarities: Basically her entire self

Traits

Optimist or Pessimist?: Optimist

Introvert or Extrovert?: Extrovert

Daredevil or Cautious?: Daredevil

Logical or Emotional?: Emotional

Disorderly and Messy or Methodical and Neat?: ‘Her’ definition of neat

Prefers Working or Relaxing?: She enjoys a hard days work, but preferably its relaxing.

Confident or Unsure of Themself?: Confident

Animal lover?: Most definitely is

Self-perception

How She Feels About Herself: She’s proud of herself.

One Word Character Would Use To Describe Themselves: Hopeful

Paragraph Description on How They’d Describe Themselves: “I just like to surf and eat tacos man. I’m not that complicated”

What does the character consider his/her best personality trait?: Kindness

What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait?: Forgetfulness

What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic?: Her physique

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic?: I’m not sure she really- I don’t think she focuses on that kind of stuff

How does the character think others perceive him/her?: A naive kid

What would the character most like to change about himself/herself?: If she wanted to change something she would put her mind to it and do it. She’s not the type to procrastinate self improvement

Relationships with others

Opinion of Other People in General: Sympathetic. She believes most people have had a hard life, and thinks that’s the reason for a lot of bad behavior

Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others?: It depends on how close to the chest she’s playing it but generally she will only hide things if she feels like it will hurt someone

Person Character Most Hates: Nobody

Best friend(s): Looking for some I guess

Love interest(s): N/a

Person Character (Would) Go to For Advice: Kirollis probably

Person Character Feels Responsible For: Her dad again, oddly

Person Character Feels Awkward Around: Probably @kat-hawke

Person Character Openly Admires: See above

Person Character Secretly Admires: She wouldn’t hold that back

Art creds @nehku

#character sheet

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beanarie · 5 years

Text

past & pending 3

this is for @stele3 whose lovely comment led to a somewhat mostly done chapter 1. <3 there’s a bunch more written, but none of it’s going on ao3 until i know how to pull the rest together. the rest of the series (post-finale, everyone’s in love) is here.

Welcome to the McGraw-Hamilton Bed and Breakfast, where no one ever calls ahead for reservations.

~~~

They watch the wagon approach for several long moments before Thomas's eyes grow almost impossibly wide and he comes out with it. "That couldn't be our Silver."

Thomas has never seen Silver bare-faced or walking with a boot that obscures, at first glance, that there's anything missing. It's strangely less jarring to see him like this than it is to see him looking like this and limping towards them, as if James expected him to still have his leg.

As he opens his mouth to call out a greeting, a small head pops up from the back of the wagon. For a moment James thinks... but no.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Thomas says, "but that child is entirely-"

"Too old," James agrees. They watch her throw her arms around Silver so he can help her to the ground. She seems to be somewhere in that middle space between five and ten. Her skin is darker than he remembers Madi's being. Not theirs.

Another head pops up, this one belonging to an adult. Thomas makes a noise. "Is that-"

"No." James frowns as Silver guides her out of the wagon as well. "I have no idea who that woman is."

Silver tips his chin in their direction. "Everyone?" he says, projecting his voice. Four more emerge from the wagon, a man and three boys of varying sizes. "Meet Thomas and James."

James stares until Silver looks at least marginally shamed. "Sorry, for not writing," Silver lies. "We couldn't risk a message being intercepted."

"You also couldn't risk us saying no," James says under his breath.

Silver shows nearly all of his teeth. "How are my cats? I'm certain they missed me."

Thomas coughs so he doesn't laugh and cause James to snap and murder someone. "Well! I guess I'm dressing another chicken for dinner. Two more, perhaps?"

~ "We're seeking sanctuary," Silver explains, his mouth half full of stewed chicken. "Not here, of course. We have an idea of where to find Esther's mother." They're not all related. That's clear from their interactions. There appears to be a platonic connection between Esther and Obi, the two adults, and the middle boy looks to be Obi's son. "As for Felix and Andres," Silver continues, tilting his head toward the end of the table, where the largest boy sits with the smallest. "We, ah, picked them up along the way. Does that description feel accurate to you, Madam? Any objections to my phrasing?"

Esther's lips turn up slightly. She looks about thirty. "None," she says, not rising to what was clearly bait. He was teasing her.

After supper, after the washing up, everyone gathers in the parlor and their guests form a wonky, expectant semi-circle around Silver. Story time. James shouldn't be surprised. Children must provide an even more receptive ear than a crew of filthy, brutal, goat-fucking onanists had.

Silver tells of the fight for survival of a sparrow in the grips of a hawk. It's full of hair-raising chases and last-minute escapes.

"Boom!" He claps two hands together and the young girl sits up straighter. "A bolt of lightning hit the hawk, ending his journey in split second. He fell to the ground just steps from where I stood, stone dead, cooked, and even dressed for dinner. The shock of the lightning caused his feathers to flee from his body."

His audience begins to object, the children squirming and laughing. "Stop, please," Obi says, amusement and pain equally evident in his voice.

"On the soul of my dear Grandfather Solomon, when that bird fell he was more naked than the day he emerged from his egg. I have never eaten so well so easily in my life."

Esther scoffs and says nothing.

Felix turns to his brother and asks him a question in Creole. Andres nods and looks to Silver. "The sparrow?"

"Oh, Miss Sparrow took full advantage of her captor's misfortune. She saw her opening, and she took it. She flew away with lightning at her tail-feathers and never looked back."

The crash of Silver's fake leg hitting the floor disturbs the quiet within seconds of James closing the door. He's breathing hard, his eyes closed. "Six days," he says, rolling his shoulders and grimacing.

"Have you not taken it off at all?"

He opens his eyes and laughs sheepishly. "Honestly, I'm a little afraid to look."

"You could have removed it hours ago."

"That-" Silver waves a hand at the floor. "-is not going back on for quite some time and I didn't relish the idea of hopping about the rest of the evening." "What became of your crutch?"

"Giving indigestion to a whale, sprouting roots in the first stage of becoming a tree that will outlast us all, reading Aeschylus and Homer at fucking Cambridge. Does it matter?"

James finishes rummaging around in the trunk and rises with a laugh.

Silver narrows his eyes. "What is that?" He lifts a hand to object. "Before you start, yes, I'm fully cognizant of what that is, but, just. James. You did not buy me a crutch."

"You're correct. I did not buy it." James looks down at the crutch in his left hand and lifts a shoulder. Silver blinks once, then freezes. "Seemed a better use of my time than repairing the kitchen table again."

No response.

"Do you not agree?"

Silver remains still as a Grecian statue.

James sighs. "All right."

A smile pulls at one corner of Silver's mouth. "Well," he says. "It's no declaring war against the British empire in my name. But it'll do."

James swears under his breath. The curse he is under, that could not have been cast after he did anything to deserve it. He would have remembered something so significant, he would have noticed, and he would have taken steps to account for it. It must have been long, long ago. A malevolent figure emerging from the sea, finding his mother, and placing its ghostly finger on him while still inside her womb. Reaching out to his fluttering, thimble-sized heart and proclaiming in a ghastly wheeze most mortals could not hear, Room for shameless fucking miscreants only.

"You were planning on letting me see it, no?" Silver beckons lazily. As soon as James gets within range, a callused hand covers his and tugs, pulling him closer. Silver's fingers ghost over his brow-bone, reverent, and James considers thanking the sea witch after all. "Oh," Silver breathes, "I have missed you."

"Status report, Mr. McGraw?"

James pulls away to check that Thomas closed the door fully behind him. "He's being sincere, so I'd estimate we have about three minutes until exhaustion claims him for the night." They hadn't discussed where he would be sleeping, however, the room they still think of as his is now taken by Esther and the girl. With Obi and... smaller Obi, then the Creole brothers occupying another two rooms, there are still a few options for Silver. Neither Thomas nor Silver will likely voice these other options, so James certainly will not.

Thomas joins them from the other side of the bed. Silver's lips part in a surprised yet grateful moan, and then James spies Thomas's nimble fingers kneading his left shoulder.

"Trying to speed the process along?" Silver murmurs.

"Removing you from the conversation before your compromised self reveals something you may regret later."

The smile Silver favors James with is almost shy. "You know, sometimes it's fairly easy to see why you love him."

James meets his eyes then grins wickedly at Thomas over his shoulder. "Thomas, your efforts come too late."

"What, that? That was hardly..."

James eases away from the bed, rolling his eyes, and seems to catch something out the window. Something is moving out there.

Silver keeps going, though his tone grows vaguer by the word. "Khanyi, the girl, she may wonder where I am. She and Madi are kin of a sort and she seems to have appointed herself my minder."

"If she should rise before you, I'll take her to meet the animals," Thomas says. "They are marginally more entertaining to look after."

"Obi should have something for the children to do. He was a schoolteacher on the island. He's been subjecting them all to twice daily lessons."

"We have some books he may find beneficial."

"Esther will want to go hunting. Andres can go with her, but Felix and Obi's boy, Seydou, no. They'll lose their way chasing after baby deer and get themselves eaten by an alligator."

"How long do you plan on sleeping?" Thomas says, as James exits the room.

James approaches the front door, feeling a bit of a fool. A knock banishes thoughts of delusion from his head. So he did not imagine what he saw.

The woman at the other side is soaked to the bone, shivering, illuminated by lightning at her back.

James breathes out. "Madi."

"James," she says, using the manner in which he closed his letters.

Upon returning to the master bedroom, he gets past the threshold and simply... stops. Silver is dead to the world, his head tipped back and his mouth wide open. Like as not he'll be snoring soon. Thomas sits next to him with his ankles crossed, repairing a hole in someone's trousers with a needle and thread. James keenly wishes he were more practiced at painting human figures. Still, his brain, helpful as ever, catalogues details as though preparing to put them on a canvas. The crease of the pillow- James's pillow- under Silver's bad leg. The furrow of concentration splitting Thomas's brow.

"Is something happening?" Thomas asks, and it's enough to spur James out of his reverie and over to the armoire.

"We have an additional houseguest."

"Truly?" Thomas asks, as though they already host the world entire.

James grabs a blanket and one of his shirts. "You should put the kettle on."

In the first few minutes, they exchange standard pleasantries, she forwards her compliments on their home, and they manage to establish that everyone else arrived safely (plus two) and no, she did not travel all this way on her own.

"My escort chose to remain in town," she says. "But I have to say, if I had no escort, it would be no one's business save my own."

Thomas presses his lips together before he rallies. "This is quite true, Miss Scott. I do hope we did not offend."

Madi sighs quietly and adjusts the blanket around her. She looks diminished in his shirt and her damp trousers, small and miserable and uncertain.

"I am glad to see you," James ventures, heartened when he gets a tiny smile out of her.

"You've said," she points out, not unkindly.

"The sentiment is no less genuine for having been repeated."

"Might we get you something to eat, dear lady?" Thomas nearly begs, his sense of empathy going haywire from having a lovely woman in his kitchen visibly fighting back tears. "Dinner has been handily polished off, but we have bread and cheese. And fruit. I could fry some eggs?"

"Madi?"

Esther stands at the doorway and Madi all but jumps, dropping the blanket on the floor. She pulls herself together with an almost audible effort as Esther asks question after question in a language he does not know well enough to identify at rapid fire speeds.

Their hands inch ever closer and, well. That is not what he was expecting.

#black sails #black sails fic #silverflinthamilton #i won't tag silvermadi bc it's not in this section but they are very much a part of this fic #fun fact 99% of this was written an entire year ago #anyhoo my sunday is over and i need to go to bed #my writing #things by beanarie

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novarasalas · 5 years

Text

Second Look Review: The Last Stand Pts. 1 & 2

I’m having a bit of trouble with this one. Not just this one, but the rest of this season.

I think it would be easier for me if I hadn’t just been making clips from earlier seasons for my videos. Cause damn, this is a huge departure from when we started.

And I casually throw around the phrase “shit gets real”, but, this time, I mean it.

There’s now a sense of realism that this show only barley hinted at in the first episode.

And it’s just the stupidest thing, but the part that’s messing me up the most is that, now, we’re in the military. Of course I knew what the Galaxy Garrison was. It’s got ‘garrison’ right there in the name. But… I’m not a fan of military stuff, which is a bit hypocritical as one of my favorite movies is “Independence Day”. I suppose it’s hard for me to accept that, say...Lance, the goofy, dork of a child, is part of a military institution. He’s a soldier.

I mean, the Paladins have been through war stuff already. But now it’s Earth war stuff; things that are immediately familiar.

I uh...I have some hang ups. If I’m seeming a bit down on all this, it’s a me thing. The show itself is still good. It’s now just suddenly not my thing.

Let’s get down to it.

Part 1

First thing: I love the Holts, ok? Sam is already amazing, and Colleen is a spitfire. You can definitely see where Pidge gets it. If they could adopt me like, right now, that’d be great.

That said, Sam is extremely idealistic. The first thing he wants to do once he gets back to Earth is tell the whole world what happened to him.

Sanda shuts him down:

Sanda: If we told the world there was an imminent attack, we’d set off a global panic.

That reminded me of this, from Men in Black:

And it’s about aliens too. Nice.

She’s not wrong. At least, I don’t think she would be in our modern reality. My city is one sports championship away from spontaneously combusting...again (thank god our teams all suck). I’d really hate to imagine what would happen in this situation in the here and now.

And Sanda wasn’t wrong about sending signals into space, either.

Sanda: Any contact with alien species needs to be run through the appropriate channels.

In the end, she acquiesces, only for them to make contact with Matt, who tells them to stop broadcasting. Welp.

Sanda’s in an unenviable position. How would you react if someone told you that space magic is real and now there’s a risk of alien invasion, and a knockoff band of Power Rangers was your only hope? She didn’t excuse herself from the meeting to stand out in the hallway and scream, which is what I'd have done. But now she has to consider the safety and well-being of the entirety of the Earth, without causing mass hysteria throughout the populace.

There are no good answers. Not in real life. And this is uncharted territory for everyone involved.

So they build weapons in secret.

I have to say, I like how they’ve designed their new tech. They didn’t try to emulate Altean aesthetics, and instead stuck with a more conventional, modern Earth look.

War planes, energy cannons, and a particle barrier. They’re working on their own Castleship. They even have “the best pilots to come out of the Galaxy Garrison in the last year.”

But it’s not enough, and Sam forces Sanda’s hand, telling the Earth about everything. As it turns out that Sanda was wrong, and instead of panic, the world comes together to help save themselves.

And in the end, it’s too little too late.

What a bunch of losers.

We’re not given much of a timeframe on these events. At the beginning of the episode, the screen reads “FOUR YEARS EARLIER”. But where in those four years does the invasion happen? If Sanda had allowed for help earlier on, would it have made a difference?

I’m thinking….no. Sendak knows what he’s doing. The Earth was screwed from the start.

Part 2

So now you’ve found yourself being overrun by alien invaders. Yikes.

And these invaders have this to say about you’re ability to fight them.

Planetary surface reports indicate offensive capability, extremely low.

I wonder if they’d say that about us now. We still have enough nukes to blow ourselves up several times over. Does this future Earth still have that?

They’ve never said much about Earth in the Paladins time, so I came up with something on my own.

I think Earth is peaceful. And I think that because the general scope of the Garrison seems to be exploration, not military power. Of course, they’re not slouch in that department either. I can’t quite explain why they’d still have active military, except that ya know...shit happens.

The overall diversity of the place tells me this, too. If this was strictly military, I don’t think they’d be letting foreigners into their ranks. This is me, assuming again, that Lance is from actual Cuba, and Hunk is from actual Samoa.

Diversity, and bases all over the world. Also, the fact of everyone coming together to protect the planet.

And I think it might be because of this:

Veronica: It’s an older setup from World War III.

That’s pretty damn significant. And it’s the last we hear of it.

Did humanity learn it’s lesson after that? Was this war so bad that everyone found their chill in the aftermath? And is it recent enough to have been within living memory for a sizable chunk of the population?

I’m gonna say yes. Look at the chiefs:

At least four of them at the table have medals on their uniforms.

So my theory is this: World War III happened around 40 years prior. The ones with the medals were awarded these medals for their services during that war. The war was so bad that everyone wised up and stopped all that nonsense. They got rid of the worst of their weapons. Now, the people of Earth have come together to explore the universe.

….hey, why not? We might find out more in season 8. Or we might go right back into fantastic space battles.

Also, I’d like to say that Sanda is also a veteran. She’s just...such a hard ass. She didn’t get that way on her own.

She’s also the one in charge.

Aliens are attacking, Admiral! What should we do?

Why, send in the least effective of our attacking fleet, of course!

Sam: You’ve just doomed those men and women.

And one, in particular.

Yeah, Adam was actually doomed as soon as he was introduced as Shiro’s ex. I’m going to talk more about this at the end of the review, because otherwise it’s just going to throw off the flow.

So, the cities of the world are razed.

Again, I’m having a hard time with this. Military movies, disaster movies….I’ve lost my taste for them. I’d rather spend my time on something hopeful. I guess, in the end, it is hopeful, because we as the audience know that Voltron will eventually save the day. But this lead up is brutal.

So, did you survive the invasion? Or do you think you’d have been one of the ‘able bodied citizens’ taken captive?

I know I’m dead. I’m soooooo dead.

Probably not in the initial attack; they always go for the cities first, and I’m at the edge of nowhere. In the end, it wouldn’t even be the Galra that get me.

It’s my chronic illnesses. If I don’t get my meds, I’m done for. So when I see a story about invasion and people getting cut off and isolated, I get a bit...uncomfortable. And that’s a bit part of why I’m having such a hard time with the back half of this season. In my head, all I can think is “oh god, I’m boned. I’m sooo screwed.”

But who knows? Maybe in this future Earth they can cure what’s wrong with me. Or maybe there’s ways to prevent you from getting sick in the first place. Then again, they couldn’t really help Shiro, so...

….

Auuuggggghhhh!!!

This is bringing me down way too much! I gotta find something great…

Ah! The squad!

The aftermath of season 7 online was a mess. I saw way too many people complaining that adding these four was a waste of narrative. Those people have toe fungus and need to get a hair cut, because the MFE pilots are great. I wish we’d gotten to see more of them.

I made a video of her moments a bit back and talked about this there, but I’ll say it again: I love Leifsdottir, and I love that she’s autistic.

Also: Veronica

Rizavi: I like her.

Same, Rizavi. Same.

I wish I hadn’t read the reviews before season 7. I’d have loved to have gone in blind, not knowing that this is that Veronica, Lance’s sister. I’d have never guessed. She’s so professional.

I wonder if she was like her brother when she was a Garrison cadet. We later see a lighter side of her, and right after that, we see Serious Lance again. Yeah...I’m going with that. I bet Lance entered the Garrison, and the instructors all began lamenting “Oh god...not another one.”.

Also, have you noticed the diversity here at the Garrison? There’s a good split of men and women, and all kinds of varying skin tones. It’s great to see.

This episode does end on a high note, or rather, as high as it can, with a message sent to Voltron with the hope that they get there in time.

And Sam Holt gives a speech.

Earth has been conquered.

We are the last holdout in an evil occupation.

And we must face the facts: our supplies are running out.

They have hammered us and hurt the ones we love.

Our backs are completely up against the wall.

And nothing makes us more dangerous.

We only have enough resources for one last stand.

Regardless of the outcome, if we stand united,

we will let them know, the planet Earth, our home,

will not go down without a fight.

…

I still really like that movie, ok?

---

Now, about Adam.

When I went online after watching the season, I was expecting to hear a bit about his fate, but I never expected all...this. And anything I have to say has already been said better by many other people.

I’m firmly of the idea that the showrunners had nothing to apologize for.

See, like I said, Adam was doomed as soon as he was introduced. He was only ever meant to serve as plot device. Take away the approval for him to be Shiro’s ex, and you’re left with Shiro’s close friend who died at the hands of Sendak. It’s meant to make you feel bad; it’s meant to make you feel unsafe. His death tells you “This is war, and anyone can die.”

But then, Shiro was allowed to be gay. And now Adam wasn’t his roommate, he was his boyfriend.

The narrative needed someone who was close to a main character to show that war is hell, but not too close as to be excessively cruel to the audience. The narrative also needed someone to show that Shiro was queer. It’s just how things worked out.

This is something we’ll have to get used to as better representation begins to filter in. There will be missteps, and there will be hurt feelings. But it is progress.

There are good conversations to be had about this. But none of those conversations are happening here.

In the end, Adam was a brave man, who once upon a time loved another man. He died a hero.

In summary:

This was brutal. It actually happened: Sendak has done everything short of destroying the whole of the Earth. I had really, really been hoping that the fight would stay in space.

The episodes were well made, with a great bit of story to be told. But my own issues got in the way of me liking them. Ah, well...it happens.

...

The Garrison is all 70s aesthetic. I don’t like 70s aesthetics...

Next up: The boys are back in town.

#second look review #the last stand #sam holt #leifsdottir #ina leifsdottir #mfe pilots #voltron #voltron legendary defender #such a long post #it's like 2k words sorry

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boogiewrites · 6 years

Text

Choking On Sapphires 23

Title & Song: Fever

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 4800+

Summary: Genevieve is a force to be reckoned with.She’s been intrigued by Alfie since she met him. But where will she draw the line between business and pleasure? The tension that’s growing between them is getting harder to ignore. Both of them showing cracks in their armor of denial. Will they be able to keep ignoring it when forced to work together for a job that requires seduction?

Warnings/Tags: Language. Fluff. Suggestive Dialog.Mentions of past trauma of a violent nature.

A/N: Every chapter of this story will have a song to work as the title and as a soundtrack. Chapter song is Fever by The Black Keys.

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes and comments feed this artist to write more!

My Masterlist. (Includes Parts 1-22)

He's sitting on a stone bench in the garden, coffee in his cup, sipping noisily and admiring the countryside and sunrise on a lazy morning. He sits up straight and twists, working the sleep out of his body as he takes a deep breath and watches the lavender he gave you move in the breeze, most it now planted in an empty section near the field's edge. The rest littered the garden, bunches of it placed among the low lying flowerbeds, the last bit of it put into a large decorative planter that you'd placed in front of the window in your bathroom. He let’s his mind contently disconnect from the present, his thoughts turning to you.

After requesting to speak to him, your request’s delivery a bit delayed from the mouth of a maid, he’d eventually wander the house to find you. The journey ended many times with him following the sound of your record player. Leaving him standing in the door way to your bathroom as you’re planted deep in the tub. You would greet him with a entirely too casual fluttering of lashes over your flushed cheeks, your hair piled on top of your head in a way that made him wonder how it’d look spread out across bed sheets. The bubbles would mask the surface of the water with its bits of flowers, petals, and herbs scattered throughout the rolling hills of the soft mounds. You set flight to small clumps of bubbles as your pinked lips pursed and blew. If he remembered the sight of you, what you'd asked him on each occasion couldn't be recalled with it. He just recalls seeing you break pieces off and using in your bath and with your little bottles of oils and perfumes. The smell of the lavender he'd bought you slowly penetrated your hair and skin. He couldn't help but feel smug at the thought that you went out into the world smelling like something that you would associate with him.

His thoughts and the near silence of the early morning are broken as he hears hooves. He gazes out, seeing a horse riding over the rolling field that lay before the forest on your land. You're atop the horse, galloping in, your hair bouncing with the rest of you. It had blown back, the long braid loose and messy down your back. The first rays of light just starting to break through the gloom of the morning, he can see the heat coming off you as you slow and dismount. As you approach he see's you're wearing another old fashion choice in dress, this one including a corset. The light white fabric of the sleeves, open front shirt underneath the tight fitting plain bodice. Your layered skirt was gathered up into your lap as you hold it while you rode. He clears his throat, eyebrows rising as he's noticed the garters that hold up your stockings, worn underneath your riding boots. He finds himself quite fond of the look. There was something about the way the worn leather of your tall boots mixed with the soft white petticoat under your fluffy skirt, that roused him ways beyond just alertness. The just slightly darker, but he imagines even softer skin of your upper thighs match the billowing fabric of the skirt, almost distracting him from noticing the tightness of your garters, squeezing your thick thighs just enough to be noticed as you raise up the skirt, giving him a risque glance at you, the shine of silk of your pants as you fuss with the stockings, having wandered from their preferred placement while you rode. His eyes continue to watch you as you fix your skirt, hair, and chest as you call out for the man who works in the barn, the horse's reins in your hands. He decides to cut his morning reflection short to investigate.

"What are you doin' up this early ridin' about?" he asks in a gruff shout as he crosses the dirt path from the garden to the barn.

"Good Morning, Alfie." you say, you scratch your head and mumble to yourself, distracted, walking the horse into the long line of stalls in this side of the barn.

He scoffs and laughs, hands on his hips are you blatantly ignore him. His shoulders still shaking in amusement as you walk farther into the barn, he stands and waits as he sighs and shakes his head at you. --- Alfie has elected to stay outside the barn, getting to watch you walk with a stomping purpose back towards him, rolling your sleeves up over your elbows.

"I was distracted by Essie, I didn't hear a word you said." you say, shaking your head with a laugh as you crack your knuckles on approach.

"Forgiven, dear." he says with a dismissive shake of his head and wave of his hand. "I was inquiring about what ya doin' ridin' around so early." he politely explains again.

"I ride out before dawn to the forest quite frequently," you say, your face and chest flushed, he notices your hair with varied bits of leaf and twig stuck in its soft waves, you reminding him of some sort of forest nymph. "I have a spot for Essie to graze and run while I take off to the woods much like a rabbit, runnin' and jumpin' and carryin' on." you say with an easy going expression, your eyes bright. "Gets the blood flowing, ya know?" you tilt your head and wrinkle your nose. "Keeps me in fighting shape." you nod and raise your skirts as you take a pitchfork in your hand and move towards a stall. "Gotta stay on top of these things for work." you conclude sweetly before you move from his sight into the stall.

"I didn't know you rode." he chimes in, surprised to find you shoveling the contents of the stall into a barrow in the corner.

"What kind of little rich girl would I be if I didn't know how to proper ride a horse?" you say with a laugh, wiping your face with your forearm.

"Is that why you wear a corset to do it?" he smirks and you turn with narrowed eyes and a half smile.

"In part," you say, your eyes looking up for a moment. "When you're plentifully proportioned in such a feminine manner, as I am," you say with a cheeky smirk that compels him to mirror the expression. "You have to have support to ride a horse. Don't want to knock myself out or break my back." you say indifferently.

"I've always thought of corsets as a pleasing aesthetic choice, did not occur they would help in such a way." he beams that cake eater grin at you and you give him a scolding but still warm glance, a heavy sigh quickly follows when you shake your head at him.

"I'm sure there are lots of things you don't know about the reality of dealing with such aesthetically pleasing things." you jeer.

"Also didn't know shoveling shit was something you bothered yourself with, eh?" he asks with crossed arms and a raised brow.

"Well I'm having Winston look after Ess and this was the last chore he needed to be finished before he could leave for holiday, didn't want to keep the man away from his new baby any longer than I already had." you said, he thought he might've heard a touch of guilt in your voice.

"Here, gimmie that ya milk maid lookin' thing." he laughs, holding his hand out for the fork in your hands. You purse your lips at him, shoving the fork further into the hay.

"I am perfectly capable of doing it myself, thank you." you say with a smile but a defensive tone.

"I didn't say you weren't, but I'm a bigger lad than you, eh?" he asks, fingers gripping into his palm for you to hand it to him.

Your shoulders slump and you move to carry what's on the fork into the barrel but one hand slips in your distraction, knocking the metal of the handles of the wheelbarrow, and with the force you exerted to take the heavyweight over, the handle snaps in your hand.

"BAISEUR DE LA MERE!" you shout, one hand immediately covering the other as your shoulder shoves past him quickly. He sees the blood on the splintered handle that rests on the ground now. He hurries after you. You're cursing in anger, your face set in an angry pose that would have been adorable if the anger behind your eyes hadn't been so hot. You see Ess in the far stable, as you trot back to Alfie. "Winston's gone, I'll need to fuckin' clean and bandage this fuckin'-" you let out an angry growl, foot stomping as you bend slightly. "MERDE qui fait mal!" you laugh loudly, madly, holding your hands to your chest, taking deep slow breaths. "Enfer." you grumble as Alfie jogs away from you and you follow less enthusiastically as his loud voice booms across the garden.

"OI!" he booms across the flowers. His tone and word choice reminding you of boys from your school days. "Don't fuckin' see no one. You need me to go? I don't know where it's at but-"

"No, wait I'm sure it's not as bad as it seems-" you explain, not moving your hands apart, afraid to be proven wrong.

"OI!" he yells again, making you roll your eyes with no real annoyance in your face for him, only at the volume with which he announced his displeasure. "Imma go tell 'em." he mumbles out before he moves away quickly. He returns just as fast. "You need to hire girls who know where the fuck things are Genny." he says, annoyance in his voice. You tilt your head at him in question. "She said she didn't know where it was either but she'd go find out and bring it." he rolls his eyes, hands on his hips.

"It's fine. Just help me sit and we'll use this skirt to stop the blood for a bit. I don't feel faint or anything, I think it hurts more than the damage warrants. Lots of nerves in the hand, ya know." you say with a sweet smile to offset your rough words.

"Here, luv." he says sweetly, holding your elbow and sitting you on a stone step outside the barn. "Want me to tear a piece off?" he asks, the hem of your dress in his taut hands.

"Go on." you give permission. You groan as he pries your shaking hands apart, wiping off the non injured one first, setting it down on your dress, his strong hands are so gentle as they move you about the wrist. You can see the cut is near your thumb in your palm. You make a disgusted noise and shake your head. "Bollocks." you mumble with a sigh. He wraps the fabric around snuggly, you wince a bit but beyond that, his touch is like a whisper.

"You'll be just fine, least it wasn't your dominant hand." he's looking towards the house as he speaks, his hands taking yours between his, still holding a pressure to the cut. You were somehow flattered by his knowledge of which hand you wrote with, then you realize you also know his. Your brow would have furrowed if it hadn't already been from pain. You stop to study his hands as he holds yours, his impatient expression still looking over your shoulder. He already had on a few rings at this early hours, they glinted despite the sun not being very high yet. They were so steady against yours, still shaking and upset about the adrenaline rush from hurting yourself. The hand that rets on top, tattooed with a single black crown and slightly fuzzy, its square-tipped fingers caress yours to comfort the non-injured hand. By the time the cold morning air chilled gold starts to warm against your skin, your notice the tick in his eyebrow. Your arms are pushed together by his holding of your hands, your bodies are directly up against each other, arms and thighs almost on top of the other as he'd pulled you to him to inspect you.

"You're going to make me nervous for no reason if you keep acting like this." you insist, eyes wide up at him, your doe-eyed expression catching him off guard as he'd been distracted by your aloof maid's ignorance.

"Uhh.." he stutters out, chin pushing back into his neck. "Sorry luv, that rocks for brains little girl got me frustrated." he says with a sigh.

"Then let's distract ourselves, shall we?" you suggest with a tilt of your head. He gives you a soft nod and smile, turning his attention and shoulders back to you. "Since they are directly in my vision, I can't help but be pulled to ask you about your tattoos, Alfie." you suggest. His head moves in small quick movements in surprise, looking down to his hands.

"Ah." he says with a quick series of nods. "You curious as to why I've got the crowns, eh?"

"How could I not be?" you say with a sweet grin.

"I got 'em after the war." he declares after a deep breathe before he elaborates, indulging your curiosity of him." The story starts before 'at though." he says shaking his head, brow low, face looking out towards the garden, being lit by the sun as it rises over the hills. Your eyes float across his handsome features as he speaks in his animated and captivating way when he tells stories. "'Spose me scrappin' and fightin' about as a boy was the true beginning," he says with a shrug. "But boxin' was where it became more than something that kept me occupied in my free time at school." his stare moves to meet the one you'd been giving him. You notice the sun picking up the yellow flecks in his blue eyes as he speaks "I's a touch good at it, yeah?" he says with a wrinkled nose, nodding over at you.

"I can imagine." you say looking up at him, your heart thumping at the thought, your adrenaline fading, your posture slumping with your shoulders as he continued to speak.

"After the war I knew that weren't what I wanted to go back to. But it did certainly help save my arse more than a few times." his eyebrows raise in emphasis. "I was a Captain, right? 'N as it came to pass you have to fight your own when you're fighting others sometimes." his nostrils twitched slightly in a tiny tell that tells you the memories could still bother him if he let him. "Whether there were words or drink or just bein' fuckin' stir-crazy, we'd brawl," he says as if it's common knowledge. "With my position, there were many names I'm sure they called me," he lets out a huff of a laugh. "But the ironic usage of righteous fists in the insults they would whisper behind my back were always my favorite," he says in a whisper, nodding his head at you. "Somethin' about it." His eyes narrow and move away from you, darting about the garden again. "Even said in such hateful ways you can't help but feel a certain respect in the title. I ended up fightin' when I'd drink too much for all the wrong reasons, but I'd win every time." he turns his face back towards yours, you make sure to lift up your half-lidded eyes. "Not a brag so much as a fact." he nods sincerely, face set softly to sell his point. " Wasn't exactly clean fighting, as you might be able to imagine." he almost mumbles, frowning slightly for a moment before his eyes twitch again and it disappears.

"I can." you say quietly to show you're listening. You notice you've been biting your lip and change this fact as soon as you realize. You hate to admit you'd let yourself get flustered at the power that came off him as he told his tale. The thought of him bare-knuckle boxing and then the number of men he'd been victorious over admittedly had done something for you on a deeper, darker, more animalistic level.

"I don't like to dwell on the memories from the war but that dunnit mean they're all useless." his words start high pitched and more to a deep rumble as he speaks, he looks down at his hands." I got myself out of the mouth of hell more than once with the help of these fists." the slightest hint of pride in his voice. "Seemed proper to remind meself of that." he gives that funny little face, his exaggerated frown when he wants to show his support for his point. "And to warn others I can send 'em back to their makers by my own judgment." he adds, a tilt of his head, his voice back to soft." 'N remind me that I still have yet to meet mine." his voice was growing more gritty as he continued sharing.

It hits you hard how dark and powerfully sexy his words were feeling to you. "That story is far much elaborate than I could've imagined. I can't help but be terribly interested when you speak to me of yourself in such ways. I love knowing what darkness motivates you." your lashes look long as he can't help but think they're batting up at him, your head tilted towards his earnestly as your too close, wet pouted lips stay ever so slightly parted as your eyes move quickly from his lips, back up to his face. He wasn't imaging the flush to your chest, was he? The usage of such sultry words makes the darkness you speak of stir just slightly within him.

"I've seen your paintings, Gen. You don't fear the darkness in the same way others do." he shakes his head just slightly, looking down at you with a question in his eyes and voice.

"Same as you?" you clearly bat your lashes up at him, your lips parted just slightly, still distracting but set in a different pose than the last time they'd stolen his attention. He doesn't know if you mean to come off so seductively but you do nonetheless. As you lean forward to speak to him, he looks away, his peripheral vision aching at the noticing of how your breasts heaved when you slumped your shoulders to speak closely with him.

"Certainly seems so, yeah?" he gruffs out, eyes lowering to your chest as you look out the garden with a thoughtful smile and a nod.

"You know I'd thought of getting a tattoo before..." you say in a light-hearted way, glancing down at his hands. He lets out a sudden, high pitched scoff.

"Now why the hell would you go and mark up a gift from god like 'at?" the words blurt out, sounding like a disciplinary scold, his face turned up in an expression of pure confusion and perhaps even disgust at the suggestion. The red reaching his face as his clumsy and boarish delivery of the words hits him. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the delivery of his opinion, you fight back a patronizing smile and choose to speak softly to counteract his knee-jerk reaction.

"Well," you say with a half smile, looking off to the side to nothing in particular. "I'm quite fond of them on men so I thought I would be fond of them on myself as well." you say with an entirely mischievous smile, he knows you've seen the crack in his calm facade in reaction to your feminine charms. You see his eyes, although skilled at not getting caught looking at you in ways he liked to pretend he didn't, grasping at the chances you give him consciously, and not, to look at you. In particular your breasts. Which were, in his defense, very distracting to a fan of the female form such as himself and in this corset nonetheless. The compliment isn't missed by his hungry mind as you watch his Adam's apple bob up and down.

"You don't need no further decoration, luv. Believe me." he recovers in a gruff tone, his head swiveling about and not meeting your eyes. You can't help but be endeared to his boyish behavior. Getting his feathers ruffled over you getting hurt so simply. His opening up to you, the fumbled words from his suppressed impulses your body sent his way; a big, grown man like him getting flustered over some cleavage was for possibly the first time in years you can recall, was something you found yourself getting turned on by. It seems you did have a soft spot for weak men, but the catch was, the weakness had to be you. ------------------------------------------------------------------============================================== It's another slow Saturday morning, Alfie sat in the study putting the papers away on his desk. He hears a high pitched squeal from you from the front door and he carries himself with a jog to the sound.

You've got your arms wrapped around Tommy's son, Charlie. He's on your hip and he's very weakly defending himself from your assault of kisses to his round little face. "How is Auntie's little gentleman? Look at you gettin' so big! I could eat those chubby cheeks right off your face!" you baby talk him enthusiastically, making 'nom' sounds and blowing raspberries on his face as he laughs and squirms. Tommy is closing the door behind him as Alfie rounds the corner, he's laughing quietly and smiling as Charlie tries to answer questions.

"Afternoon, Alfie." Tommy greets the man as he approaches, they share a mutual pat on the shoulder.

"It is." he gruffs out, looking at you as he speaks to Tommy. "Didn't know you were coming in today, mate."

"He's here on business and surprised me with this little man." you coo affectionately, bouncing the boy around.

"Well, I knew you'd want to see him. He likes driving around in the new car anyway." he shrugs slightly, hands in his pockets.

"Business, eh?" Alfie asks, looking back at Tommy.

"Don't be nosey, Alfie." you say, walking towards them both. "If you need to know, you'll know." you say with a non-threatening smile. You give Charlie one last smooch before handing him off to Aggie. "Shall we get the business over with so we can all enjoy each others company?" you suggest in a politely enthusiastic way. "I've got an adorable godson to spoil if you don't mind." you say matter of factly as you walk towards your office. ------------------- You're sitting on the front of your desk as Tommy speaks to you of a job proposition. A nouveau riche man, coat-tailing on a politician cousin has been throwing his weight around on the wrong people. Literally on girls that work for Tommy and figuratively with his drunken rants that begin with "Do you know who I am?". Tommy didn't go into specifics but he didn't have to.

"I had heard words spoken of the man but until the girls brought him to my attention I didn't think much of it. Once they told me what he had done to them, and rumored to have done to others, I knew you were the woman for the job."

That's all he'd had to say. He could ve lead with that and shook hands and been done honestly. Tommy knew a lot about you. He knew more about you than any other Shelby. More than Polly and even more than Arthur. After jobs in years past, you had spent the occasional very drunken night together talking. It'd all start with a drunken blurting out of something about Grace. You'd both be left raw and the stories just came tumbling out. As much of a pain in the arse he was, he had always kept your secrets. And of course, you'd kept his. So from these quiet confessions, you cathartically purged previous pain of your lives. Spoken into the flames of a dying fire, your pouring and drinking to kill that pain still very much alive.

Because of the nature of the stories told, he knew you preferred to take on jobs that required murder if you thought the person deserved it. Due to the nature of this man's crimes and your stories told, Tommy came to you when he found out a man causing trouble had harmed women because he knew you'd say yes. You had yet to fail him on a job and he was noticing that Alfie was also catching on to how much your allegiance was worth. This didn't bother him in the slightest, he honestly wanted to encourage it. The thought had crossed his mind more than once that if you and Solomons were to join forces, that would mean mutually assured loyalty of Solomons through your orders. He'd only ever known you to be, and frustratingly so at times, a loyal person to those you loved, and as much as you claimed not to like him, he couldn't help but think you counted him amongst those you were loyal to. He didn't see this as changing anytime soon, and you wouldn't let Alfie harm him if you had any control over it, and he suspects a woman like you would certainly have control over a lot of things in a relationship.

So this power hungry pig was known for his fondness of burlesque starlets. It would be easy to get him alone for the purpose of seduction. The man thought he was clever, thinking that dancers couldn't possibly be threats. He'd send his men away, except his driver who Tommy said he could have taken care of with no work needed on your behalf.

"And where will this be happening? You don't own a bar with a stage." you say, holding your hand out to ask for an explanation.

"That's why I wanted the meeting here and on a Saturday afternoon." he says with a subtle smug smile and you nod.

"You want to use Alfie's club," you state, lips pursed, looking at the door, wondering if the bugger was eavesdropping. "You want me to go grab him or ask him later?" you sigh out, swinging your head back towards Tommy.

"I'd actually like to speak to him alone first if you don't mind." he says in an indifferent way. You sigh and stand.

"If he'll speak of business on Shabbat." you say sarcastically with a closed mouth smile.

"He's not trying to sell you that holy routine is he?" he shakes his head, eyes rolling but an amused look on his face.

"No, but I do find his hypocrisy and blasphemy highly amusing." your chuckle shakes your shoulders as you leave the room to send Alfie in. ------- After being informed to the situation, the plan and the inquiry to use his club to do it Alfie sits back in your chair at your desk, hands on his stomach, shoulder hunched and brow low, clearly hesitant.

"I've kept the place quiet so far mate, best not mix things up right now. Not with the way the politicians are actin' skittish after our last job." he says, his face less tense but still unhappy.

"This man's cousin will not mind him gone. I'll clean it up. I just need a controlled environment." he offers, shrugging his shoulder. "Since Genevieve would be in a reasonable amount of danger with this rather large and strong man alone, I thought you might prefer to be around if anything did not go according to plan." he offers in a voice that is too still and calm to not make Alfie's eyes narrow at the man in offense to his assumptions of him.

A "Hmph." of consideration was the only response given to him for using you as a means to appeal to his emotions. He wasn't sure how he felt about the man's boldness to suggest he'd care about such a thing. Even if he was exactly correct in his presumption.

"If I know I can trust the owner of the establishment and the men in it, that lessens the probability that something will go awry significantly," he states with an easy going nod, presenting the attempt at persuasion and using you as a piece of the negotiation. "And we both know we can trust her, eh?" he offers, leaning forward with a nod of his head towards the door.

"You'll clean it up?" he asks, fingers tapping together in front of his face. "I just gotta give you a place for her to dance and 'ats it? You handle all the planning and dirty work?" he leans with his elbows on the desk.

"Every bit of it." he says convincingly.

"You got them political connections now, dontcha? Running for office and what not." he huffs out a laugh. "This a job for 'em?" he asks, tilting his head. "A favor among the aristocracy?" he lets out an amused breathy chuckle.

"Not exactly, no. It being at your club should bring no suspicion to you with the ends I have tied up." he says with a subtle purse to his lips, head tilting back at the man to show he wasn't backing down.

"So ya just use me place and ya payin' me? Is this what I'm to take away from this?" he asks, hands out in question.

"Yes, Alfie, that's what I'm offering." he states very matter-of-factly.

Alfie spits in his hand, Tommy follows suit as they move to open the door to include you in on the conversation.

Pt 24 Every So Often

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ladyhawk-s · 6 years

Text

Are the Dog Days Really Over?

Relationships: Katsuki Bakugou/Ochako Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki and Uraraka Ochako

Characters: Katsuki Bakugou, Ochako Uraraka

Rating: G+

Word Count: 12,170~

Summary: On Katsuki's one day off, he expected some serenity with a bit of spicy food and action packed movies. You know, the usual.But living with Ochako doesn't provide the usual and certainly not today with an unexpected new furry addition to their residence.

AN: FINALLY, yesterday I got off my lazy ass and edited this piece so I could post it. I won't lie you guys, when I first wrote it, I thought this was the best piece EVER. I was so proud of it and I couldn't wait to upload it. BOY was I wrong. I've really changed my writing style since this fic so it's really old (like...September old) and I didn't really feel like editing the whole thing since it's 12000+ so please be aware of that when reading!! Maybe in a few years I will go back and fix it up but in the meantime, I hope you guys like it!! Also, I was going to dedicate this to someone but they blocked me 8') so I just decided to dedicate to every one in the Kacchako fandom. A lot of reasons have kept me away from contributing but you guys still create awesome content that reminds me why I love the ship and forget about what happened so thank you all! I have a bunch of Kacchako fics in store that will be written MUCH better than this so I hope this will sooth you guys over until then!!

Read at AO3 ; Read at FF.net

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The bright sun from the day beamed through the window, creating a natural light that brought an angelic glow into the small kitchen.

Normally, Katsuki wouldn't be at home during the day time hours like this. Due to his immense skill and ability, he was called into work almost every single day, having to use his flames to defeat the gross amount of villains that would terrorize the city. His quirk was known to produce quick results so, along with Izuku Midoriya, they would team up together and conquer the streets together. By no means did they enjoy being in each other's company, in fact there's still slight tension and sarcasm thrown between them but their quirks were compatible enough to beat villains at an alarming rate so they sucked their pride in and just only allowed a few words to pass by them.

However, today was special in that the villain case involved more close intact spaces that required quirks that were designed for closer precision attacks rather than the explosive ones Katsuki and Izuku had. While both were able to perfect techniques that had sharp shooter styles, their quirks still weren't applicable enough for the job, leaving them a day off to do whatever their hearts contented. Izuku took the day to spend time with those around him, really cherishing the free time he had to explore areas he hadn't seen before and making memories that could be stamped on Facebook. Katsuki, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. His body lived for the excited energy of slamming villains against the cement floor, seeing their faces oozing out blood as their bodies burned and bubbled under the heat of his explosions. The adrenaline he gained from zooming through the rubble pumped through his veins and he loved the burn he gained from over exerting his muscles. Katsuki lived for activity and days like this made him feel restless. He already went on a run earlier in the day and he hit the gym afterwards to test out the weights but he still found himself bouncing up and down with pure energy, not resting until he got some motion in them.

To get his mind off of his burning legs, Kastuki decided to find temporary residence in the small kitchen of his apartment, cooking up a recipe that he had been craving for a while now. It was one of his favorite dishes, full of a variety of different spices and flavors that left a tingling sensation on his tongue as it burned his taste buds. Every time he could feel explosions coursing through his mouth, feeling it was on fire as it tunneled down to his stomach but that was the way he enjoyed it. Others looked at him like he was crazy and that the neurons in his mind weren't firing right but in response, he would just flip them off and even eat the items they pushed off to the side.

Katsuki was rapidly cutting the bell peppers in a swift motion when he suddenly heard the door open with small whispers attached to it. Perking up his ears, he stopped in mid cut, trying to identify what the sounds were. He completely froze his body like he did in battle to not mix sounds together and he could hear an all too familiar voice acting as if it was trying to keep a secret. Their words were intangible, mingling with each other as they tried to speak in a frantic voice, hoping that they wouldn't get caught. Curiously, Katsuki silently set down the knife and took light steps towards the voice, trying not to cause attention towards himself.

Through the door frame, he could see Ochako, the other resident in the household, carrying an abnormally large duffel bag that slung awkwardly on her shoulder as it looked like she was talking to it while patting the fabric sides. The bag was bulky in nature, as if it was filled to the capacity with a variety of different items that protruded on the side, their shape being defined on the exterior. Yet, something was odd with this image. Not only was she using a duffel bag that she strictly used for large hero assignments that took several days, but the bag vibrated every time she whispered to it, almost as if it was responding to her hidden commands. Even her eyebrows furrowed in as she spoke, something she usually did when she was frustrated and trying to concentrate. Everything about her position right now confused Katsuki and his cautious instincts kicked in, ready to combat any force that would be emitted from her bag. His muscles tensed up and his stance was completely stable, veins protruding out from his skin as his blood ran wild.

"Oi." Katsuki called out to Ochako, a slight growl emitting from his throat as he caught her distracted attention.

At his growl, Ochako jumped back a little, her eyes widening in shock as she saw Kastuki looming in the door frame like he was a predator trying to catch his prey in complete silence. Unlike Katsuki, her scheduled varied based on availability, leaving her to either stay at home for days on end or find comfort on a marble floor between her breaks as they set up the next assignment for her. However, she knew Katsuki had a more rigid time table from leaving at the early morning sun to coming back at howls of the moonlight. It was a schedule that left a bitter taste in her mouth as she grew accustomed to it so it surprised her to see him standing there with an intimidating look smeared across his eyes. Time felt slightly frozen as she tried to readjust to the situation, though it took the rustling of her bag quickly snap her back.

"Oh! Um...hi Bakugou! I didn't expect to you at home this early! What's going on? Is everything ok?" She rambled on, nervousness lining her words as her eyes slightly shifted around his face, looking for signs that would indicate his mood. Her bag continued to rustle even more under her arm, almost exuding rage like qualities in response to her lack of attention.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes even further, his eyebrows furrowing more inwards while he gauged Ochako's actions. She seemed suspicious, as if she trapped her secrets in her bag and it was raging to come out. Shifting his gaze towards the bag, he analyzed the threads that were protruding out from this mysterious being inside, though it proved more difficult than he imagined since the fabric more opaque than he would have liked in this situation. From what he could see, it was bulky but also filled curves and whenever it would create bulges, they would be small little bumps that would look slightly tubular depending on the angle. After creating a few plausible guesses in his mind, he looked back at Ochako's now pale face and scrunched up his face even more. "What's in the bag?" He asked roughly, not hesitating for a second.

Ochako took a step back in response, gulping her answer along with her guilt as she tried to formulate words to come out. "W-what are you-u talking about?? It's just my hero stuff that I always need. I'm not sure what you're talking about." she whistled out, her face giving off clear tell-tale signs that all she was capable of telling in this current state were covered up truths. Reflexively, she pulled her bag even closer to her chest, acting like she was protecting the presence that resided within there, and she crossed her opposite arm to place her hand the mysterious lump that was sticking out. Her pose even began to shift in one that was filled with defense and protection, as if she was fending off the bag from a villain who was after secret treasures that could change the fate of the universe.

However, Katsuki wasn't buying it. Whatever was in that bag wasn't important enough for her to cover up her footsteps and he felt his irritation boiling up in his fiery veins. Picking up his heavy feet, he slowly trudged over to her, determination for the truth lining in his eyebrows. "Fucking liar. What's in the fucking bag!?" He roared out in his usual aggressive tone, his voice getting slightly louder as his annoyance grew. As soon as he got closer to her, even with her resisting maneuvers, Katsuki elongated his arm and reached for the bag. Despite Ochako's attempts to fend him off, he managed to grab onto the handles of her bag and tugged it closer to him, also slightly pulling Ochako down with him. Though, even he was rough his motions, Ochako still kept her determined look on her face while her feet gripped onto the floor and used the traction of her shoes to somewhat keep her stance. "Fucking! Fucking let go Round Face!" He began to roar out as he pulled harder, the stitches holding it all together breaking under his grasp.

"N-no! Bakugou, s-stop!" Ochako heavily breathed out, her voice giving out under the immense amount of force she was using. Katsuki, ignoring her requests, continued to tug on the straps, grunts escaping his lips with each resistance Ochako put on him. Using a last measure on the man, she begrudgingly let go one of her hands to counter his on the handle and extended it outwards towards him, trying to grab onto him so she could activate her zero gravitational quirk. However, just as he maneuvered around her during the Sports Festival, the same thing occurred here as he shifted around, completely dodging her movements to make him levitate.

They kept at this for a good solid minute with Katsuki bending his back in multitude directions to fend off Ochako's desperate attacks while tugging on the bag even tighter and with Ochako panting out her exhaustion as she tried to protect the contents in there. Due to their actions, they weren't able to notice the vibrations of the bag as it shook in fear, emitting slight noises through the thread with the hope it would be released soon.

"I SAID FUCKING LET GO!" Katsuki barked out again, using all the air in his lungs to bellow out his voice as he pulled once more with immense force. Though, this time, he completely erased his limitations and instead yanked at it enough that he completely ripped off the straps of the bag. The whiplash caused the bodies to collide into each other, creating a small heap on the floor with the bag heavily dropping on the wooden floor, producing a large "thump" sound along with it.

Katsuki and Ochako laid down on the cold floor for a few seconds, recoiling from the blow that had overtaken both of their heads. In the meanwhile, through the rip, a small, moving creature tore its way out, gnawing at the fabric to make the hole enough for its escape. Slowly but surely, he made his way out, placing each foot into the cold ground as he lifted his stumpy legs from his temporary imprisonment to make his way towards the fallen humans. Ochako was the first to prop herself up since Katsuki cushioned her blow and she was greeted with small licks to her mouth that left her to be a giggling mess.

"Hey, stop that! It tickles!" she cooed out in her sing song voice, giving out small laughs that originated from her lungs. When she found her core once more, she swung her legs inward and sat up in a position that allowed for the little 4 legged being to come to her. Picking him up, she brought him close to her chest and gave kisses to the top of his head, not caring that small little pieces of hair were getting wedged in between her lips. His little pants matched the tempo of her loving noises and he dug himself deeper into her hug, embracing her hold and getting himself comfortable in his new mother's arms.

Katsuki woke up to Ochako's inaudible murmurs and initially everything came off as blurry with colors mixing into each other as he tried to readjust himself after the hit to his head. However, his fast paced eyes quickly refined the Lines in his world and irritation set into his blood as he saw the scene unfolding in front of him. Right in front of him was Ochako holding a small, fluffy dog against her chest, caressing his spiked fur while he attacked her face with his millimeter tongue. While on the surface it was sight that should have been mass photographed, all the prerogatives of it flew around it and he began to count down all the faults, noticing first on Ochako's impulsive nature.

"What the fuck is that thing!?" he snarled at her, completely knowing exactly what kind animal she was carrying but more asking in the realm of why even a creature like that was in the house to begin with.

Ochako giggled at his question, completely oblivious behind the true meaning of his sharp words. "What a silly question Bakugou! He's obviously a cute little dog!" she said with a happy voice. She then shifted the dog in her arms so that way her hands cupped his little armpits while their faces met with each other's, his stumpy body extending downwards as his tail wagged heavily in happiness with looking at his new owner. "That's right, you're a cute little doggy, aren't you! Oh you're cutest of dogs! I could just eat you up, that's how cute you are!" Ochako purred out as her eyes squinted out of delight, treating the animal like he was her new born child. Between words, she brought his face close to her and amassed his face with kisses while she received soft licks against her skin in mutual admiration.

Of course, that moment was short lived with Katsuki's explosive mannerisms. Using the muscles in his foundational stance, he quickly sat himself upright and stared intently at the duo while more and more questions began to pop in his head. "I can fucking see that, I mean what the fuck is that thing doing in my fucking house!?" He snarled at them, showing off his sharp teeth as they clenched tight against each other. Ochako was known to act impulsively and cross some lines while doing so, Katsuki even figured this out during their first match as freshmen, but this was even a situation that overstepped even his lowest expectations.

Looking at Katsuki's reaction already sent a shiver down her spine and she gnawed at her bottom lip with doe eyes as she tried to come up with an explanation for the dog in her hands. Even though Katsuki seemed to be one driven with emotions at his constant barrage of words at others, he actually viewed things rationally and logically, using evidence around him to prove his point. He analyzed the situations he was placed in and based his actions around that, only acting impulsively if the situation allowed him to. It was that in addition to his quirk that got him to claim one of the highest statuses in the professional hero realm and that logical mindset could be seen here despite his yelling and sparks that appeared on his palms as he spoke. Every argument Ochako came up, she could hear Katsuki's counter ringing in her ear and his intense stare left her a bit anxious to speak up. She tried to see how aggravated the lines in his face were to see what kind of reaction he would display but the only conclusion she could come up with is that he would spark in her face regardless so she may as well fess up with the truth and pray he would spare her life. "Well....you see...I was at work this morning and our mission today was more low scale, you know, I mean, it was still pretty serious but nothing compared to the villains we fought at UA, I would probably compare it to a maybe low scale Chisaki case with the whole yakuza aspect going on and surprisingly with guns? I'm not too sure why since I'm sure they had quirks but-"

"Get on with it, Round Face."

"Right, right, anyways, we saw this kidnapped family and upon helping them, well, we came across this little guy!" she said as the dog shifted around in her arms, converting himself into a position where he could look at Katsuki with the same glittering eyes as Ochako. "We asked the family if he was theirs since he was locked up along with them but they said he was already there when they got there. After a bit of talking with them, we thought he belonged to the leader but no matter what, it still came down that he didn't have a home to go to. A few others in the team tried to take him with them but he kept growling and biting them, pretty much being an angry poof ball! I was the only one he was nice with so....I decided to bring him home!" With that, she brought the dogs face next to her own and they both shared the same look of happiness, their mouths open in wide smiles attached with goofy eyes. Then Ochako shifted her pupils to her furry friend as she used one of the hands holding him to scratch the skin underneath his soft, amassed fur. "It took me a while to come up with a name but I decided to name him Kacchan after you!"

Katsuki's blood was already boiling from hearing this farfetched story but at the name, that's when hell froze and then burned to crisps under the flames of his metaphorical explosions. If she didn't already cross over many lines, she created more lines and even crossed over those as well. At this point, he couldn't tell if she was just messing around with him and pulling on his leg or if she was actually being serious, though at this point, given her stupid yet seemingly adorable face, it begrudgingly seemed to be the latter than the former. "Ha?! I'm nothing like that scrawny, piece of shit animal over there! Where the fuck did you see me in him?"

At Katsuki's question, Ochako's face brightened a bit, relieved that he asked her something that has a more solid and understandable answer than the others she had to give him. She would be the first one to admit that this situation had ridiculous undertones but at least she could answer this one with more confidence. "Well everything about him is pretty much you, just in doggy form! I'm pretty sure he's a Pomeranian but his fur is as fluffy as yours and it's even the same ash blonde with white undertones like yours as well. Plus he's just as irritable and cranky as you-"

"I'M NOT CRANKY OR IRRITABLE, THE FUCK?!!"

"See! He gets angry just like that, though his barks are a bit more high pitched, but they still have the same explosive tone like yours! And right now he's acting calmer since I'm here but he get can really mean, like he'll bite or growl if he doesn't like you. He's pretty much you at this point, I tried coming up with other names but Kacchan just kept rattling in my mind so I just decided to keep it." At the end of her sentence, Kacchan began to heavily wet her face with the saliva of his tongue kisses, making her beam in delight as soft giggles escaped from her lungs, creating a small melody that went in tune with his pants. It was as if Kacchan was her child and all Ochako could do for him was give him unconditional love under the shelter of their house. After a bit of their moment, Ochako looked back at Katsuki and held out Kacchan to him, her arms begging him to take the puppy out of her hands and into his. "C'mon Bakugou! You should hold him for a bit! His fur may look really rough but he's actually really soft!"

"No fucking way." He immediately spat out, his eyes squinting in massive rejection. No matter how many times his eyes glanced over the puppy, each swipe always had the answer of No within them. Ochako was right in the sense that Kacchan was in the more ferocious end, that was easy to see just from one look at how he slightly barred his teeth at Katsuki. It was as if he was challenging his human counterpart in a battle for Ochako's attention and Katsuki's eyebrows itched in irritation at the dog's nonsensical fighting stance. A small line of red electricity flashed between their eyes as a streak of dominance jolted between, causing a metaphorical anime pre fight scene to commence between them.

However, even though to the common eye their aggression was heavily apparent and prepping for a fight to ensue between them , Ochako's eyesight apparently needed work as she interpreted their behaviors in the complete opposite way than was intended. Her world was skewed in an optimistic way, seeing shades of love and unrequited feelings in certain situations that didn't belong there. Which was exactly how she saw this one too. For reasons unknown, possibly ones that involved trying to diffuse the situation, she saw their stare off as a ring of who would start the first move of affection, as if making the first move would result in a signature of weakness on their manliness. So, Ochako did the only thing she knew how to do (or at least believed so) and she tried to remedy the situation with giving a small crack in the ice that formed between. "Oh, c'mon! Don't be so passive aggressive! Here! Just try holding him!" she chirped to Katsuki as, despite his everlasting protests, she essentially shoved Kacchan into his arms and smiled as she saw the duo together in unison.

Though, the scene in front of her wasn't as peaceful as the image that had formed in Ochako's mind. Within Kastuki's arms, Kacchan wriggled and thrashed everywhere, his body language screaming to be released from Katsuki's latched grip, though it proved futile for the dog as his arms only seeped into him more. Feeling the closeness more than he could handle, Kacchan found a piece of bare skin on the forearm holding him custody and he bite into it, his fangs seeped into the flesh that caused blood to drip out from his mouth. Even though Katsuki tried to shake him off, Kacchan's teeth practically became one with his arm and he even continued to stay on despite even being airborne with shakes for a bit. Small growls erupted from his mouth that coupled with colorful language that was being belted out from the human counterpart.

Witnessing all of this, Ochako went into a frantic mode and immediately ran over to the attack, getting her hands in there. "Oh my god Bakugou!!" She said in response to his explosive curses that heavily ringed in her ear. Her trying-to-be-calm words countered his screams and it was a clash of ideals as Ochako tried to assist him while also having to dodge his flailing arms and the firecrackers that emitted from the sweat in his palms. After a melody of screams and not so pleasure language, she finally managed to rip Kacchan off of Katsuki, blood slightly spurting out of the fang marks as they left stains on his calloused skin. In her arms, Kacchan was quivering, showing his content to be back with his new mother as his tail waved rapidly back and forth while also showering her skin with wet kisses.

Once everything had settled down, Ochako looked back at Katsuki, wincing while his words kept hitting back at her and slapping guilt onto her cheeks as every curse directed themselves towards her. When his fiery attitude sizzled down a bit, she managed to look back at him in a more proper standpoint and her eyes crinkled in worry as she saw the pool of blood collecting in his hand with the veins in his hand protruding out with the heightened pressure he was adding to his forearm.

Her lips began to part to voice her concerned thoughts when Katsuki's head snapped back to her, his eyes gaining beast like qualities as a snarl escaped from his trachea with his teeth becoming more jagged as he looked at his prey. "Get rid of him." He commanded with fire, his voice somehow maintaining a calm level despite his teeth gritting into each other as he tried to not outwardly express the sheering pain he was in.

"What? But Bakugou-!" Ochako began to protest, tensing up her muscles as she readied herself to tackle against his arguments when he interrupted her and allowing his impatience to flourish out.

"Shut the fuck up already!" He screamed out to her, causing her to quickly shut her lips close together and look back with bulging eyes that slightly popped out from her skull. Even Kacchan seized the movement in his tail and took his focus from the safety of Ochako's cheeks to stare at Katsuki intently as well. "Look at what that shithead did to me!" He began to roar out as he took off his hand from his arm and shoved the bloody wound towards Ochako, making sure she can see his blood cells clotting around the deep wound that created an ombré sea of red. "He's a fucking monster and a demonic little SHIT STAIN that deserves to fucking die! I don't give a flying fuck on how you do it, take him to the pound, kill him, fucking feed him to Deku for all I care, JUST GET HIM OUT THIS GODDAMN HOUSE!" Pants began to escape from his throat as he zapped most of his energy to give those demands to Ochako. Fortunately, while most would have grown faint from a wound like this, Katsuki had dealt with enough gashes in his life that the pain wasn't as severe as it could have been but it still caused enough of a reaction that had him reeling back a bit, especially with his over exertion of his voice.

"But he needs a good home Bakugou and I don't know if he'll get one if he's in a place like that. With his scary attitude and their week policy, there's no way anyone is going to adopt him or want him. I can’t even ask around to see if anyone wants him. It's not fair and he deserves a good home too. And he's a sweet little guy when you get past his fluffy, mean exterior." Ochako softly spoke out loud, bringing Kacchan closer to her chest as budding tears began to gloss over her eyes, slightly pushing the realm of crying.

Yet, even though she had a wavering voice and her eyes were symbolizing weakness towards the animal, Katsuki's standpoint wouldn't budge, in fact it only solidified his resolve even more. However, even though he had words sticking out from every pore in his mouth, it was a rare sight to see her in that state. Most of the time, her cheeks would continue to radiate against her smile and would bring happiness even in the darkest of tunnels so to see her now with her cheeks dulling themselves out from the scrunched up face she was making, it tugged at Katsuki's heartstrings and he knew that he had tp control the firecrackers that were budding on the tip of his tongue. Sighing out his aggression, he got up from his twisted sitting position and looked down at the duo with tainted eyes that swirled in mixed feelings. Using the maturity that swelled calmness into his fiery personality over the years, he gave one last feat of exasperation. "Figure it out Uraraka. He needs to get out of this house as soon as fucking possible." Katsuki commanded sternly, making sure that his words weren't too harsh but also were inflicted with a lick of seriousness that would manipulate her movements to match his words.

With a slight nod, Ochako clutched Kacchan further into her and kissed the top of his head as he whimpered his sorrows into the nape of her neck, as if he could see his fate being closed down on him. The two sat like that for a while, holding onto their souls, silently mourning their soon loss when they grew startled by the eruption of the phone ringing. While one minute Kacchan was a quiet creature, the minute the phone spoke out the incoming call, rumbles and growls slowly appeared until they transformed into loud and piercing barks that deafened the room for a small bit. Yet, even though his stance was ready to jump and pounce, Ochako held onto him more, making sure the only struggle he had was close to her and not on the furniture.

As the rings continued to go on, Ochako looked back at Katsuki and gave him pleading eyes, gratitude shimmering in her eyes as they rounded themselves off and made her face turn into that of a doe that was face to face with the barrel to shotgun shoved in her face. Upon seeing those eyes rimmed with desperation, Katsuki decided redial the bullets that were rotating his irises and only grunted in response as he went to perform the not so pleasure deed. With a quick swipe of his arm, he placed the receiver right next to his ear and only responded with a harsh greeting as he listened intently to what the other individual was saying on the other end. Their words were jumbled and combined together with hints of urgency meshing in between their voice and it got to a point where he couldn't understand anything the mystery person was saying except for that they needed Ochako and if she was at home. "Yea, she is. Hold- I said fucking hold on....well if maybe if you kept your shit attitude close to you, maybe I could fucking finish what the fuck I was about to fucking say. Fuck you." He cursed out to the other person in the void of the phone before he whipped the phone away from his ear and shoved it towards Ochako, his tongue clicking against his teeth with his arm vibrating in annoyance and irritation.

Slowly wiping her eyes to rid the current state she found herself in, she weakly grabbed it from him and placed it lightly against her ear, completely acting opposite on how Katsuki did. "Hello....yes this is Uraraka...." As the words spoken on the other end grew more frantic and kept hitting the plastic of the phone, Ochako became more stuff and tense, her throat beginning to close and itch as her eyes widened. The only thing she was able to communicate were slow nods that showed signs of understanding and worry. "Ok...I'll be right there.....The stations near there may be closed so it would take me a bit but I'll be there as soon as possible.....No, thank you for letting me know, if there's any way I can help, I will.....Alright, I'll be there soon....Bye." She spoke out softly, her voice coarse from the shock that she received and she felt her breaths growing heavier as she quickly pressed down on the ending call button and immediately set Kacchan down to crawl towards the contents of her fallen bag and start picking them up. In the midst of her quick rush to pack the contents back in, her eyes locked with Katsuki's and explanations began to spill out. "The agency that is connected with mine is having major issues. Villains infiltrated their underground base and I'm not sure what's fully gone on, I don't think people have died yet, but it's bad enough that some of my coworkers who were in there got turned into hostages. So they need me to go there and help out with the rescue, especially since my quirk can let me get rid of some blocked areas in a more quiet way." Ochako explained, though phrases would be cut off from pauses her thought process as she multi tasked her mind to not only talk to him but to prep herself for the oncoming battle. With throwing in the last of her stuff, she yanked the zipper closed, creating a loud zipping sound as she clenched onto the somewhat demolished straps and placed them on her shoulder with enough ease to not worsen their current state but with enough urgency to showcase her rushed nature.

However, as she swiped her keys into her hands and walked towards the wooden front door, her body was stopped by the brawn nature of Katsuki's body that stood rigid in front of her path. Ochako stepped back, her eyebrows twitched together as her eyes scanned Katsuki in a desperate attempt to find an escape route through his muscular build. Just as Ochako was about to peep out her protesting words, Katsuki threw his arm into an upward side position, his fingers curled into a fist as his index finger stood out amongst the rest, pointing to the new friend that came into their life. "What about the demon fucker? Are you going to take him as a fucking side kick?" He asked in a hostile tone, his teeth gritting together as he patiently waited to see what kind of answer Ochako would give in response.

Which she reacted in just the manner he expected. She slapped her two palms together and brought the prayer symbol close to her face as her eyes crinkled in her normal submissive behavior towards him. "Please Bakugou! Just this one favor for me?" Ochako pleaded with him, giving him the look of desperation as she just hoped this one time he would cooperate with her and actually do this small thing for her.

Except her pleadings were for naught as he barred her teeth at her and little flames could be seen flaring from his nostrils in retaliation against her request. "What the fuck Uraraka?! No fucking way, I'm not looking after that shit stain while you prance around in your fucking hero costume. You want him to be supervised? Then do it your fucking yourself!" He screeched at her, his voice creating echoes in her ear with its higher pitch.

"What? Bakugou, I'm not prancing around in my hero suit, I have an emergency to attend to and he can't come with me. Please, Bakugou, help me out for a bit. It'll only be for a few hours." She begged further, her knees buckling inwards to lower herself in a way that would show a sense of weakness to his dominant stance. It felt humiliating and defeating and something that her pride didn't want to indulge in but it was the only way that didn't include gravitation and her needing to engage in a combat battle that would have stolen all the stamina that was queuing up for her mission.

Though, it only had the opposite effect as Katsuki puffed out his chest even more and elongated his neck, making his features more sharp as his jaw countered itself enough to look like it could kill with one slice. A deep, reddening fire flourished within his crimson irises as he looked down upon her, still not letting go his guard around her ever since she proved him wrong all those years ago. "Did you get fucking amnesia? Or did he suddenly bite your head off enough that it went soft? Look at what he fucking did to me!" he gnarled out, his lip curving up as he swung his arm around like a baseball bat and shoved it to Ochako so her eyes could rest upon the image of his battle wounds once again. "I'm not wasting another second with this fucker so you better fucking handle it!"

His screams echoed in Ochako's ears as her face contorted to be one of pain. Her eyes shifted in confliction with the eternal debate of Katsuki and Kacchan and with every gnaw on her lip, a new thought would appear and tunnel her back to square one in the cube of confusion. It left her in a hole of confliction filled with respect for the parties involved and decisions were only in fleeting in nature, making her brain fizz in choices. However, with one last swipe at Kacchan, resolve filled her spirit and she turned back to the brute force known as Katsuki. Swallowing the buildup of fear down, her lips creased inwards as her eyes quickly drew down towards his chest, surveying his outlook. "I'm sorry Bakugou...." she quietly spoke out but the few seconds it took to reach Katsuki's ears were just enough for her to lung forward and smack her hands against the muscles that shaped his chest.

Out of shock, he wasn't able to lurch out of the way quick enough and Katsuki's legs began to levitate as they released their gravity to Ochako. "What the fuck!?" He screeched, finding himself floating higher and higher. Whipping his head down, he latched his gaze onto Ochako's and flashes ignited in his eyes as he began to curse out all the obscenities in the dictionary. "Fucking put me down Round Face! This fucking isn't funny!"

The rushing nature of the situation suppressed the laughter that would have normally bubbled out in Ochako's lungs and before guilt could scratch at her conscious, she quickly sprinted to the door, acid burning the back of her throat with every step she took. Pulling on the door fast enough that the hinges creaked out their rustiness, she took her foot outside, released him by pressing her pads together and saying a small "Release,", then got the approval to run when she saw his body crash onto the wooden floor. A small sound of apology could be heard with her rushed expression and the door signaled her complete exit with its deafening slam as the lock clicked back in place.

Groaning, Katsuki rubbed his thigh as he reanimated his corpse back to life, sores aching throughout his body as the whiplash of the fall rippled out. His spine cracked when he pushed his back upwards, readjusting his focus to create more solid lines on the objects surrounding him. Everything had a tilted stance and a small rumble escaped his lips that matched the massages on his temple from his rugged palm. However, in the midst of redefinition, a small blob of yellow traveled to him, little clicks tailgating their steps as they got closer and closer to Katsuki. Squints revealed Kacchan making his way towards the fallen Katsuki and getting a little close to his disliking as his fur grazed the fabric covering his jeans. Out of disdain, Kastuki shook his leg away from the four legged beast that had sharper teeth then Eijirou and crossed them together as he pushed himself upwards into a sitting position. Scowling at this foe's constant licking of tongues, he kicked himself off the floor and curved his back behind before snapping it downwards in a condensing 75 degree angle. "What the fuck do you want? A fucking round two?" With only a wag of his curled tail in response, Katsuki snarled at Kacchan upwardly curved lip. "Fuck off then!" He shouted as he pushed the canine away with his foot, making him slightly flop over to allow a path to be cleared to get back to the chopped vegetables on the counter in the kitchen. Placing the knife back in his hands, horizontal stabs began to crease the peppers once again, creating thin slices with slight jagged edges that came from his irritated stance.

Grunting at the cuts he was carving into the vegetables, his mind tunneled into an action packed vortex where strategic plans and potential new moves sharpened his mind and left him to focus on the fresh pieces of food in front of him. His mind fell into a black hole and his focus tunneled into itself to a point that a yelp of shock escaped his throat when he felt small wet stains on his legs. Dropping his knife that created a clattered clink on the floor, Katsuki swung his torso around to see the hound of his nightmares sticking by his heels as his pink tongue brushed against his skin, giving acidic wet streaks against his roughened skin. "What the fuck!? Did I not tell you to fuck off!?" Katsuki screeched out, as he wiggled his leg away from Kacchan, almost hitting his snout in the process. Kacchan, with aggravated and annoyed creases, snarled back before nipping his ankle with his sharpened teeth. Giving out a curse with growled undertones, Kacchan whisked himself away, his unclipped nails leaving little ticks as he pranced out of the kitchen into adjacent room. Even though explosions got caught in his throat, he decided to gulp in down and let it ruminate with the acid that was bubbling in his stomach. Hatred and annoyance created a sharp pain that hit him in the gut and he hoped that the food he was mixing and cooking would settle it all down.

After a millennia passed, he pour the mixture into one of the frilly plates Ochako had insisted on purchasing when habitual living came about and added the last minute garnishes of sauce and spice to really kick in the flavor against his buds. Sticking the fork with the rest of vegetables and rice, Katsuki threw the used and useless utensils into the sink before kicking his feet off to meet with the couch he shared his meals with. However, the calmer expression that had reflected on his face soon morphed back into his typical raging face as he saw Kacchan terrorizing his own space. And it wasn't even just that as well, the blankets that Katsuki had used for comfort were being ruffled by that devious canine as he circled to find his preferred position, making threads pull out under the claws of his paws.

Anger flushed Katsuki's face as he gripped onto his bowl tighter to keep the contents inside the bowl that was already beginning to form cracks under his pressured fingers. His eyes twitched as he saw Kacchan continuously rolling around, sewn threads demolished under his nails. "Oi oi oi!" Katsuki began to call out as he trudged over to the tiny villain, smashing the bowl onto the nearby coffee table before he loomed over him. "When I told you to fuck off, I didn't tell you to fuck off here! Now get the fuck off!" Katsuki screamed as he grabbed the waist of Kacchan, that unfortunately was met with another bite and harsh words, and threw him onto the ground. Not even bothering to check the state of the creature he dominated, he swished his hand around in front of his crimson orbs, assessing the damage he took once again. Determining it was only as bad as a bee sting this time around, Katsuki went back to adjusting the blankets to his liking, forming them so the rougher, woolen one was cushioning the sticky texture of the leather with the threaded, soft one on top to cover him in a sense warmth. However, the mere few seconds he decided to turn his head away gave enough grief as a loud crash shattered onto their wooden floor.

Time seemed to freeze on Katsuki's end, making his hands stick in the same folding position before his neck joints began to add functionality once again and he cracked his neck around to see Ochako's bowl into tiny fragments with his food sprawled all over the table and seeping into the floor. Surprise shook in Katsuki's muscles as his fingers began to twitch in anger before his back heavily straightened and stormed over to the culprit who was casually licking the contents spewed on the floor. "The fuck!? Do you think this is fucking funny to you!?" Katsuki bellowed out, anger seeping through his teeth as his crimson irises met with Kacchan's. Yet, while most would shake in fear from Katsuki's menacing glare, Kacchan just continued to stare, his puffy tail swishing back and forth before he then turned back to the meal he believed he was given. It was as if he gave zero cares to Katsuki's demeanor.

Irritability seethed through Katsuki's teeth as his eyes continued to drill themselves into the scene, the desire to strangle both Kacchan and Ochako building up within his spleen. Huffing out the steam strewing in his bloodstream, eyes rolled as he walked over back to the kitchen to unwillingly retrieve the cleaning supplies since he could hear the ringing of Ochako's whines within his earlobes.

With the rags and spray clasped between his fingers, he clumped his feet back to the scene of the crime before deja vu slapped him back on the face, making his face return back to the distorted expression from before. Possibly even worse as he eyed Kacchan rubbing his back into the gloppy mess on the floor, spreading the contents from the surface deeper into the carpet. Little growls of relief emitted from his toothy grin as his body wiggled against the slop, scratching the itchy patches of fur against the pricks of the shaggy carpet. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING YOU FUCKING STUPID ANIMAL!?" Katsuki cursed out as he ran towards where Kacchan was to only having to be stopped in his track by the dog's flipped position. With his paws lying forward, his teeth protruded out as he stuck his rear in the air, clear sign of playing around with the human companion. "What the fuck are you doing!?" He screamed out once again when he took a step forward, causing his opponent to do a small little jump back as well. Suddenly, a competitive nerve burst in Katsuki as a click was felt in his mind and a demonic grin latched onto his face. "Oh is that how you're going to fucking do it huh?" With whippings of Kacchan's tail and a gruff of noise cursing out of his mouth, Katsuki took that as an acceptance of the air challenge that formed between them. "Alright fucking bring it!"

Accompanying his starting, Kacchan's nails skidded on the floor as he sped throughout the house, the attached food to his paws leaving trail marks on carpet with each zigzagged zoom. Following the same feat, Katsuki began to chase after him, colorful language booming out in the same moments where he knocked into the walls out of clumsiness to get the little furry creatures. And oh boy did Kacchan move fast; his stumpy legs knew how to jump and slide under pieces of their furniture, making Katsuki believe he had him trapped until he saw a blurry figure crisp through his legs, making Katsuki twist and turn to see where he went off this time. Fortunately, the little train tracks of food got Katsuki to sniff out his new location but even the warrior in the wonder duo was facing his toughest opponent to date. Even All Might's punches to the gut back as a teenager seemed to be much easier to have a handle on than this little 4 foot beast scurrying his way around the house.

However, soon Kacchan's official location was finally revealed when vibrations of his whines emerged from the living room. A small shiver of chill crawled up Katsuki's spine as his feet grew stuck to the carpet flooring they found themselves in, trying to gauge the noise Kacchan was making. The tunnels of his ears cleared as he allowed the noises to mix in, making sense of what kind of yelping Kacchan was forming. It was one of immense pain, as if he was screaming in his own language for immediate help. The whimpers grew to be more grange and gnarly and Katsuki's heroic legs quickly moved themselves to play the role of a hero to help the hurt animal. Entering into the living room, his throat tightened up as he saw the scene of the victim mangled into bits.

To be less exaggerated, Katsuki wasn't aware of the circumstances or how it got to this point since his ears had been rumbled with adrenaline but what he saw made his calloused fingers fill with an unusual sweat that panicked him slightly. Somehow Kacchan managed to hit against the table of memories (or at least how Ochako decided to name it) and a special vase that was gifted by Katsuki's mother, containing a special charm that relaxed him, found itself shattered on the floor, bits and pieces sticking out as the meshed colors scattered across the ground. Fragments of all kinds sprinkled around, some visible to the eye, other more minuscule that one would have to strain their eyes to see. However, the pieces that were obtruding out of Katsuki’s eyes were visible enough that he could see swirls of blue and yellow being mixed in with the liquid of red that signaled for immediate attention. Looking at his arrival, Kacchan recalibrate his eyes back to Katsuki and a little shimmer of water glossed over them as whimpers of avail whistled through his sharp teeth.

"Fucking Christ.....you can never keep your shit to yourself huh?" Katsuki muttered under his breath, still continuing his cursing barrage as he side stepped the damage and went to the bathroom to get all the human supplies that could help with a wound. Fortunately, with being a hero, all kinds of detrimental things happen on the daily so Katsuki even had the skill set to be able to revive a heart back to conscious. Which is why, glass being stabbed into Kacchan's paw wasn't too much of a dilemma for him, the only thing hesitating him were the differences in species. But he could worry about that with Ochako later. Right now, it was sewing time.

Pulling out the tweezers and small scissors from the restroom drawer and digging through the cupboard for the healing products, he returned back to the yelping puppy and grabbed onto the paw that was damaged and oozing blood. Kacchan gave Katsuki quivering eyes as he swiveled the paw around, assessing how rooted the fragment of ceramic was lodged in. Noticing that it was only in enough to cause major discomfort but not enough to decimate his walking ability on his pads, Katsuki cleared his throat as he placed the tweezers in between his fingers and carefully gnawed out the piece, listening to the heavy pants that escaped onto Kacchan's tongue. With immense concentration, Katsuki used the metallic tweezers to latch onto the tip and picked at the ceramic bit by bit, moving it slowly around so it would unlatch itself from the pads. Teetering it back and forth, using semi horizontal movements to get the desired result, eventually it loosened to a point where then Katsuki threw the tweezers to the side and used his nails to grip at the edge to pull it out of it socket. Blood began to splatter out, getting drops of the darkened fluid on his shirt as it continued to spill all over the tiny foot and Katsuki's finger tips, leaving a messy trial of the vital fluid.

Ignoring the howls that shrilled out of Kacchan, he continued on his process, calmness radiating through his mind as he worked as swift as possible. A rag that Katsuki pulled from the cupboard soon found itself pressed against the battle scar, hemorrhaging the wound to allow clots to form around it. During the painful minutes it took to make the bleeding stop soaking the rag from underneath him, Katsuki rubbed his furry neck, giving soothing and reassuring words that brought strength to Kacchan's lower quivering jaw. With passage of time and constant checks of the rag to see if the pressure worked, soon the blotches grew small enough to the point of nonexistence and immediately another cloth with disinfectant rubbed itself on the wound, fending off the potential germs that could seep in. Burns and sizzles emerged from the rag and Kacchan gave out hisses as the fiery substance worked itself into cut and fighting against the battles of infection. Rubbing the remaining in, he tossed away the clear soaked rag away and turned the paw within the tips of his fingers to see if stitches were needed. Determining that wasn't the case, he grabbed a flimsy piece of gauze and compressed it down while twirling the medical tape around to keep his work all in one place. Inspecting the finer details of his labor, he gave a grunt of approval before setting the paw down delicately and leaning to meet the panting dog on the side. "There ya go, you little shit. You gotta be more fucking careful or else shit like this will happen again. Got it?" He lectured the canine, allowing the widened smile with a tongue out to be a good enough acceptance from him. "Fucking alright then, can't have you hurt again." Katsuki said in a softer tone as he picked Kacchan up by under the arm pits, carrying him like a human child as he then rested him on top of the nest he was creating until confusion occurred. Settling him down softly so his body curled up into a donut shape, Katsuki loomed over him, his gaze softening against the widened eyes that were looking up at him. "Stay here, I'll be back soon." He responded with a tinge of sweetness as he gave Kacchan one last look before cleaning up the mess.

Bit by bit, things were put back in its proper place, finding their homes back in the cupboards where their clear spaces in the dust made room from them. All that Katsuki could speak were in the languages of sighes, wondering how his one day off turned into this catastrophic mess with a dog he didn't even imagine would come in of all days. But of course, what did he expect from the gravitational girl that also resided in the house? Since they fought in the arena, she kept him on his toes, using the expected to create the unexpected. Deep down inside, he had imagined a somewhat peaceful day where spicy food could be the only thing that divulged in his fiery nature but in actuality, he was now on his knees cleaning up a mess that could have only happened in his wildest of dreams.

Once the house looked somewhat how it did when Ochako ran out, Katsuki dug his fingers into the roots of his hips, teetering of the balls of his feet as he looked in the peripherals of his surroundings, now questioning what to do with himself. The one plan that had really stuck in his mind found itself stained on the ground so that idea completely threw itself out the window in a flash. Ideas ran through his mind yet, even though he wanted to do all of them, a feat of exhaustion flew into his muscles and everything that mingled in his mind felt unappealing and redundant. Then, twisting his body around, he locked his ruby textured eyes with Kacchan's similar ones, exchanging a look of serenity and company. With the way he was positioned in the nest of blankets, the angry and carnivorous vibe he had earlier was swiped away and replaced with a formidable pet that just wanted to receive love. Something that Katsuki could relate to in his former memories.

Digging his fingers more into the skin of hips, he dropped his head down, let out a deepened sigh before bringing it back up and looked at the dog, locking eyes with him. "You can't just leave me alone for 10 fucking seconds, huh?" He retorted back but with a more playful undertone as he smirked back at Kacchan, feeling a somewhat new connection with his former enemy. With the throbbing of his bite marks fading and stitching itself together with the paw's injuries, Katsuki plodded himself over to the couch and slumped his rear down, sinking into the cushions of the couch. Picking up the remote that slid into a diagonal position, he illuminated the high definition screen and flipped through the channels, one thumb pressing the down key, the other hand unconsciously occupied by resting itself on the top of Kacchan's protruding fur, his fingers getting lost within his golden hair.

Settling down on a program full with loud screams and red undertones as two men dueled it out with bloodstains on their clothing, Katsuki set down the remote with small clank on the table and leaned further into the couch. As if his eyes were magnetized the screen, scenes of the movie swirled into his pupils as he continued to look on, only blinking when he felt his eyes slightly watering from the strain of keeping them open. Invested so much into the action, he couldn't even feel the way Kacchan's tail was fanning against the side of his waist as his mouth turned upwards with his tongue sticking out, panting out the same excitement that crossed on Katsuki's face. Both looks contained pallets of captivation as gore splattered across the pixelated monitor, barks of orders and parkour enticing the actors while they continued on the plot with kicks and dislocated joints.

Spellbound by the menagerie of performances that depicted action, betrayal, and even occasional spouts of romance that were met with repulsed looks from the duo, the outside world blurred within their peripherals as the television messed with their internal clocks. Nothing brought them out of that state until they heard a small little click with a flash blinding their visuals. After giving yelps of pain and smudging the black dots away that were popping up in between the shades of color, soon, the perpetrator appeared in front of them. It was Ochako, bruises splattering across her arms and neck from the damages her selfless rescue caused and her silhouette was shadowed on the ground from the lamp switches that were flicked on due to the darkened night that seeped through their familiar window. Yet, even though a black eye covered the purity of her rounded features, tightening up the muscles by the opening with a mixture of dark colorations, it still crinkled in happiness as her rosy cheeks brightened under the small smile that spread across her face. Her delicate fingers wrapped themselves around the phone in front of her chest, creating clicking sounds with her thumb as she created more blackmail with the fine tunings of her camera.

"The fuck are you doing!? Aren't you supposed to be doing some hero shit or something!?" Katsuki retorted out, his body scooting forward to pounce on her to rip that phone from her nimble fingers. A slight blush appeared on his already reddening face though his hand still remained on Kacchan's golden fur, not even trying to cover the tracks of his sudden attachment to the dog he asked to kick out earlier. Even Katsuki could feel Kacchan reacting the same way as his body tensed at his savior.

"Yea but the rescue team finished their work a bit earlier than normal plus," she said with grin as she glided over to the draped windows and yanked them apart to reveal the darkened sky with little bulbs of light sprinkling across it. Katsuki's eyes widened as he stared at the crystalline night sky, completely in shock on how time slid through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. "It's completely dark outside! Last time I checked it was almost midnight as well!"

For Katsuki, it only felt he was on the couch next to his fur rival for an hour, possibly less but Ochako revealed the proof of it being more and twisting his head towards their clock affirmed her words. Even Kacchan's mouth opened up and his tongue rolled out in between his teeth as his head bobbed back and forth between the two differing faces.

"It seems as if you guys are getting along though!" Ochako said as she shattered the silence that formed in the room, looking at the duo with a smirk on her face as small laughter erupted from the depths of her diaphragm. Her eyes crinkled at the image that appeared in front of her as she saw past Katsuki's artificial stance and looked at the true image of care that was painted with their closeness.

"The fuck!? No! Only in your fucking imagination Round Face!" Katsuki spat out, removing his hand immediately from Kacchan and raising himself from the couch as he contracted towards Ochako with clenched fists accompanying his sides. His face reverted back to the one of earlier yet this time there was a glow of softness that wasn't apparent before, reducing his contorted features to be those of a lie.

"That's not what I'm seeing!" Ochako continued to tease, rocking back and forth on her buoyant feet that carried a bantering tone. With her tuffs bouncing close and waving towards her face, she pulled out the gallery of evidence and shoved the clearest photo of their affection into his face. "Last time I checked Bakugou, a picture is worth a thousand words, isn't it?" She teased towards him, giving him a grin that was filled with content and vibrancy but also leaking with slight sinister vibes that contained motives Katsuki knew he wouldn't enjoy.

With tension seen in the veins popping through the outer skin of his fists, Katsuki's mouth twitched at Ochako's prancing as she continued to shove his true emotions down his throat. He wasn't going to lie, he had grown an affinity for the small creature. The way he looked at him with pleading eyes as if he was his only savior, the way he enjoyed the flying of guts being spewed on a TV screen, the way he placed his elongated chin against Katsuki's thighs when his eyes started to get droopy, all these things made the flame in his heart tenderize and a bond started to form underneath the tip of his nose. Yet, he wasn't going to let that slip out to Ochako anytime soon. "Oh I know what that picture is saying and it's saying that that phone should be fucking burned Round Face!" He grumbled out as he lunged towards the object in her hand, ready to smash it into smithereens under the pads of his fingers.

However, despite her coming back from battle and bruised in major areas, Ochako was still able to maneuver with grace as she spun away from his heated grasps. With each step Katsuki took, Ochako took a defensive one back as a smug look appeared on her face in retaliation to the flustered twitches that plagued the edges of his face. To an outsider, it looked like a dance of twisting personalities that spiraled together with a common theme of a phone being held above like a victorious trophy. Even Kacchan felt the excitement between their compatible feet and, with his flag tail whipping back and forth, he jumped from the couch and joined the frenzy with small jumps and little yips. It was a whirlwind of dancing feet of all kinds and no matter how desperate Katsuki fought to grab the phone, Ochako would just refute the action with her own.

"C'mon Uraraka! Give that fucking phone to me!"

"Hmmm let me think about it.....NOPE!" She said with a devilish smirk plastered on her skin as her reddening cheeks became more daring with a redder shade blossoming out. "I actually was thinking about framing it as way to show how affectionate you can really be Bakugou!" Ochako added with a small tongue sticking out to get him riled up even more.

A huge scowl curved down on his lips with a roughing noise escaping through the clenching of his teeth. "Why you..." He managed to bark out before beginning to aim harder at her operations, even going as far to use a hand to pull down the shoulder, aiming up to bring it down.

"Hey that's cheating Bakugou!" Ochako whined, her cheeks puffing out at the pressure that she felt on her shoulder as it buckled her knees down slightly. However, that still didn't leave her taunting appeal as a smug look twisted her features. "Well, you remember how UA dealt with cheaters, right?" And before Katsuki could realize what she was doing, she brought her free hand upwards and slapped the phone with it, causing her cat like pads to illuminate in a pink glow. Slowly, her phone began to levitate, reaching the top of the ceiling as Ochako brought her signature hands downwards. Little mumbles of hurt could be heard in the back of her throat as her neck held itself back, looking at the flow of where it was traveling in the air.

In utter shock, Katsuki stood still for a few seconds, his muscles palpitating as they gave small spasms of anger at the cunning move Ochako had pulled. However, control soon returned back to him and his features convulsed as he tried not to rip her into shreds in that exact moment. "Fucking! The fuck!? What the living fuck Uraraka!? Holy fuck! You'll regret it once I get my hands on that fucking phone!?" Katsuki screamed out as he began tromping around the floor, moving chairs around to see if he could elongate his reach to grab the phone. Yet, no matter how close his fingertips got to get it into his grasps, he could hear little squeaks from Ochako as she maneuvered the phone around, making sure it's lack of gravity kept itself away from the explosive danger Katsuki was going to impose on it.

Once the device floated a sizable distance away from him, Ochako staggered back, still keeping her eye on it as her feet moved backwards. "Re..Release!" She said with a quivering voice as she calculated the distance and caught the phone right in between her hands. Though, that movement had her feet slightly collide into each other and Ochako found herself stumbling backwards to recalibrate her balance and make sure neither her or the phone found itself on the ground. However, as soon as she regained her equilibrium, a loud squeak rippled in the air that was followed by an even louder squeak, though it had more of the soundings of an exasperated gasp.

Looking down, Ochako's eyes immediately downturned as she saw her foot pressing against Kacchan's hurt paw, his eyes turning glossy as he whined for the sheering pain to be released. "Oh my gosh Kacchan! I'm so sorry!" She immediately said as she lifted her foot away from his smaller one, jumping on the more grounded one, trying to get away from the injured dog. Once she core stabilized itself again, she immediately plunged herself downwards, ready to pick him up and have him lay in her curved arms. "Come here baby, oh I'm so sorry! Let mommy pic-"

However, before she could even grab Kacchan, a hiss sounded right next to her as two beefed arms swiped him away, cradling the dog into the crevices that were created in the spaces. Coddles and coos were pressed against his ear as Ochako looked up to see Katsuki purring into his fur while using his free fingers to scratch Kacchan's skin to cause a tongue pouring out. Licks began to mark up Kastukis arm as they bonded over the care he poured into the furry creature. Though, as soon as Ochako shifted her posture a bit, Katsuki's head whipped towards her direction and his canines cross hatched into each other with a ray of red lighting zooming within his crimson irises. "The fuck did you fucking do you fucking gravitational bitch!? Are you so used to the air that you fucking forgot you are a fucking clutz on the ground now? Like the fuck, he was standing fucking right there, vulnerable as shit given his fucking foot wound and you just had to stomp all over him as if he's a fucking toy and you have no respect towards injured people and I hope you- THE FUCK YOU LAUGHING AT!?" He screeched as he halted his hate filled monologue with a response to the slight laughter Ochako was trying to cover up with her hand pressed against her mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She breathed out in between laughs, each time trying to stop the flow but flubbing up once more and continued to giggle under tears dropping down from her cheeks. Breathing heavily to regain her ability to structure sentences once again, she began to cough out the last remaining bits of laughter withheld in her voice before she tried to explain herself. "It’s just....it’s just earlier you were acting as if Kacchan was a spawn of Satan and you wanted him gone but now you're acting as if he's your child! Just like a good father!" Ochako said with brilliance, her eyes crinkling in enjoyment as her two hands clapped together in front of her ecstatic smile. Standing up from her kneeled position, she walked closer to the duo and gave small whispers of love to the dog Katsuki had clutched into his arms as she rubbed his pointed ears together. "It's as if we became a huge happy family with you as the dad, me as the mom, and Kacchan as the son!" She said cheerily as she snuggled closer to Kacchan's nose.

However, hearing the words family, son, father, turned Kastuki's face into a beet red color as he became a fuddled mess of a being that had his muscles trembling. Even though he was a grown adult with a more than stable job and could properly function in the harsh realms of the adult world, those words were still too mature for his liking and stuff that never even crossed his mind before. The idea of being a father, even to a mere animal like Kacchan, blew his mind into crackles of explosions and spirals twirled in his eyes as he tried to wrap his thoughts around those ideas. Did protectiveness and sudden onset of adoration mean that he had those qualities? He certainly didn't think so but then he flashed back to his younger days when his quirk would incinerate certain pieces of furniture and how, even though he gained injury, his parents would still love him and cradle him in their arms after he kept his frowning face. Memories began to parallel with his current mindset and Katsuki felt himself entering into a reddening fog that made his sentences jumble.

Before he could object to any of Ochako's sudden statements, clicks of a selfie sided phone began to burst into his ears as his focus suddenly pulled itself out of his daze and saw Ochako taking photos of all of them together. "Say cheese!" She said in the photo as her mouth quickly upturned into a smile with a peace sign pressed against her cheek, continuing to take photos. Katsuki began to protest and wiggle around the camera's line of view but Ochako would just keep hoping around to make sure they all fit in the frame. Soon, her harassment stopped and she stood still while her index finger ran through the photos, laughter flourishing out as she continued to spy on them. Just as Katsuki was about to repeat his question from earlier, Ochako shoved her phone right back into his face. The pixels on the image formed mixtures of colors to show Ochako with an ecstatic laughter while Katsuki had his open mouth in his signature roughened expression as Kacchan wiggled around in his arms, licking the skin on his owner's arms. "See Bakugou! We look just like a family! Man I should get this developed and framed so we can put it somewhere...." Ochako muttered to herself as her feet teetered away from Katsuki, getting lost in her own world as her thumbs zoomed into each photo, analyzing each aspect with slight mutters that were only audible to herself.

Katsuki stood still with trembles quivering through his muscles as he continued to be shook by Ochako's phrasing with the photos. Lava soared in his veins and it took the attentive licks of Kacchan in order for the heat to boil out and erupt out in explosive fire. From the outside, the interior through the window became a sea of reddening oranges and yellows that followed with barks, high pitched squeals that had a sweet sound of happiness in there, and loud confused roars that were filled with maddening blushes.

#kacchako #bakuraka #katsuki bakugou #uraraka ochako #kacchan #katsuki as a dog #kacchako fic #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugou x uraraka ochako #bakugou x uraraka #katsuki x ochako #urabaku #katsuocha

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dahniwitchoflight · 6 years

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I know you probably won't do this one but I was gonna ask about how a Knight of Space does the breeding of a Genesis frog, the only reason im asking is because of your post earlier about the destruction (like the Prince) , creation (like the Maid) and manipulation classes (Like the Witches) and I was wondering how you think the other types of classes did it.

well, like all Space Players, the Frog Breeding Quest is also their Land Quest

and for everyone, the Land Quest is the mega challenge that shows a person how they are intrinsically valuable and able to do things through the vehicle of their classpect

aka, by achieving goals that need your classpect’s power to succeed, the game is trying to show you that you are awesome and needed and can all do all these great and powerful or niche things that nobody else can

so I imagine while the end Goal for all Space Players is the same = “end up with a viable tadpole frog”

I feel like that’s sort of the same as saying the end goal for a regular Land Quest is the confrontation with the Denizen

how you find all the frogs, how you wake up your denizen, both of these things I think are more important when you get into individual players and space players yknow?

The actual Journey of your quest to do the thing, how you go about doing it, is much much much more personalized

and then in the Space player’s case, it’s almost as if the Space player being needed in session is a given from the start, it’s a very impersonal sort of “need”

therefore the way they breed their frog I feel should tie in much stronger to their Class instead, put a larger focus on the methods they would naturally use to show them that their class (and by extension themselves personally not just any old Space Player around) is also personally and internally valuable and capable of doings things and needed in a more personal way

so yeah, to break it down here’s how I would think each Function Pair would probably go about

Creation: Their frogs need obvious additions of needed parts, they start with some big things obviously missing, even if they start with existing frogs at all, and not just separate frog parts. and try to add what they think is needed in order for it to grow. Possible ways to fail include adding unnecessary things like cancer.

Destruction: Their frogs start out with a lot of obvious defects, lots of unnecessary extras, and they need to try to get rid of things that make the frog unhealthy. Possible ways to fail is the removal of necessary parts like legs or organs, up to destruction of the tadpole entirely

Manipulation: Their frog starts out not as one frog, but as a bunch of unrelated frogs with varying neutral traits and states (like skin color, leg length, croak volume etc) they have to find the right sequence of neutral traits (red skin, short legs, high pitch and etc) changing things up like the order in which they appear of what kind per frog in order to make the correct frog

Understanding: They probably have to do things from the ground up, researching and understanding optimal frog traits through observation or just plain research in books, things like “this exact length of length gives them optimal jumping distance and height, not too long or short” or “this tone of voice resonates clearest” or “skin translucency at optimal thinness to allow water absorption but not organs falling out” a lot of more nitpicky millimeter adjustments tend to happen in this camp I’d think, but only because their seems to be less room for error in their own eyes, definitely much more involved in the Platonic Idea of Frog

Relocation: Relocation focuses on movement, either inwards or outwards, and this is one where I can see “the near perfect couple of frogs already exist somewhere, you just have to find them and catch them” is a possibility that could happen. With the catch that the frogs are trying to avoid you, and they’re very good at it, they can outspeed you or out teleport you or etc and maybe your only interaction really with the breeding mechanics is when you finally catch two such near perfect frogs and ecto out a tadpole from them at the end. I can definitely see how much time you spend finding frogs to breed versus breeding frogs that you find being variable between the functions

Application: Application focuses on function itself, the idea of using what you got for the purpose in which it’s meant to be used, very creative/intuitive and very jack of all trades-y, that’s selling it a bit short, but I do honestly kind of see it as Application being able to use whatever they have at their disposal in order to accomplish their task. Equally as likely to try bits and pieces of every previous method, as they are to invent an entirely new method all their own in order to end up with the right frog at the end. Their method may just simply be that “their is no set method, do it however you can with whatever you got godspeed” they definitely Life-Hack their frog in some way, and end up with maybe the most unusual sorts of frogs as a result.

but yeah, that’s roughly how I can see most things going down, obviously these aren’t the be all and end all ways that each one could go about doing things, the main point is that the method that you go about finding and breeding frogs will likely involve their class’s natural tendencies and ways of doing things, so it will involve how their functions naturally operate in some way as well

#SBURB #Homestuck #Space Aspect #Frog Breeding #LOXAY #Anonymous

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schraubd · 7 years

Text

On Asking Jews To Be More Anti-Nazi

The second job I wanted to be when I grew up was a cartoonist (the first was omelet chef at a Marriott. Little kids have weird goals). I loved Calvin & Hobbes, and later Dilbert, Doonesbury, Foxtrot, The Boondocks, and many others. My ambition, alas, quickly foundered against the reality that I have no artistic talent whatsoever. But occasionally I still draw cartoons in my head (where their artistry and technical virtues are unimpeachable). My most recent imagined cartoon is set in Auschwitz, 1944, where a portal opens up and a time-traveler steps through. It is a literal "Social Justice Warrior" -- from the future, armed to the teeth, and ready and eager to "punch some Nazis". After completing his task, some Jewish inmates approach to thank him for rescu-- BAM! He clocks them too. "Did I say 'Zio-Nazis excepted'?" I was thinking about this after reading this tweet by Ferrari Sheppard, where he says "Can't be anti Nazi pro Israel."

Can't be anti Nazi pro Israel.

— Ferrari Sheppard (@stopbeingfamous) August 13, 2017

I read that tweet, in turn, shortly after reading this thread by Sophie Ellman-Golan urging White Jews to "join" the fight against the neo-Nazi resurgence we saw in Charlottesville.

To white Jews alarmed by #Charlottesville: this is the movement. Join it. It will fight for us, but we have to fight for Black folks too.

— Sophie Ellman-Golan (@EgSophie) August 13, 2017

It is, she says, a fight Jewish institutions have been "shamefully late" in adopting as our own. I reflect on this, and I'm torn. My thoughts are scattered; they fly all over the place. Consider the ADL -- called out by name by Ellman-Golan. I recall excoriating them for selling out liberal Jews in their appalling silence on David Friedman's "kapo" comments. Then I think of the immense pressure the ADL has come under from the right, which accuses it of taking too hard a line on right-wing racism. I remember the shamefully equivocating tweet ADL chief Jonathan Greenblatt put out yesterday, drawing equivalence between Nazi and "antifa" violence. Then I remember the following tweet thread which was so much better. I also remember how a sizable chunk of the negative responses to Greenblatt's original equivocation somehow managed to work "Israel" into the message -- because that's what it's always about, isn't it? I consider how it seems many of the ADL's critics are eager, even happy, to infer the worst about it. They like the idea of "Jews who don't really oppose Nazis". They seem to revel in the idea that the Jews aren't anti-Nazi to their satisfaction. The Jewish community -- institutionally and otherwise -- is a varied and diverse bunch. That variation and diversity applies as much to our presence in social justice organizing as anything else. The explanations for this diversity will be similarly varied. After all, I, too, have written fusillades decrying the tepidity of many Jewish groups in calling out the ascendant tide of right-wing racism. So clearly I concur there's a problem here. At the same time, I also think that there's something truly grating at the idea that Jews have to prove themselves "anti-Nazi." Mia Steinberg wrote something very telling about how this debate plays out for Jews: "Instead of 'would I have stood up to Nazis in WW2', the thought experiment for me has always been 'would I have survived?'" The Holocaust was not an arena for Jews to prove our moral valor, and when our reaction to Nazism doesn't adopt appropriately heroic tones that is not proof of Jewish "complicity" in anything. The celerity with which people seem eager to tell Jews we're the new Nazis, or we don't care about Nazis, or we're not responding to Nazis in a way that gives non-Jews sufficient confidence that we're really anti-Nazi, is degrading and infuriating. Yet again -- I can't fully go down that road either. Surely, the groups like ZOA who have explicitly lined up behind the Trump/Bannon alt-right wing have no moral legs to stand upon. And even as I bow to no one in downplaying the seriousness of the growing clouds of antisemitism, Ellman-Golan is simply right -- I refuse to tolerate people denying this -- that in its current manifestation in the United States Black people are more violently targeted by the forces of White supremacy than are Jews. That doesn't mean Jews aren't targeted, and aren't targeted in ways that are worthy of genuine fear and concern. But it is not wrong for there to be a focus on racist violence, so long as that focus doesn't come via denying the reality of antisemitic violence. But (once more around, and here's where I really want to land) can we honestly say -- unblinking, looked-in-the-eye, full-stop -- that when Jews don't throw themselves into these movements that the primary explanation ought to be "because Jews don't care about Nazism"? Can we be so confident that the movements in question "will fight for us"? The fact of the matter is, too often Jews -- from Chicago Dyke March to Creating Change to Slutwalk -- do try to participate in these movements, and are cast out, or turned aside, or subjected to humiliating ideological litmus tests where we're guilty until proven anti-Zionist. That's part of the reason -- not the sole reason, but part of the story -- why I shy away from protest movements. I don't know that they "will fight for us". That is not something that simply can be wedged into our presuppositions as a demanded default. Much the opposite:

As a Jew, I can't completely cheer at these expressions of left-wing activism because I know there is a real and non-negligible risk that in that crowd someone wants to say the whole thing they're fighting against is a Zionist plot, and there is a real and non-negligible risk that if that person gets a hold of the mic and says so the crowd will erupt in cheers.

It grates when this is denied, when people act as if the only reason Jews "don't show up" for social justice (to the extent that we don't) is because we're too indifferent or too fragile or too embedded in our own privilege to really care. Such a view doesn't take seriously real practices of exclusion; it assumes them away because it takes "they will fight for us" as an axiom rather than a (often quite dubious) proposition that must be demonstrated. It's the "why do all the black people sit together in the cafeteria" question of Jewish social activism. If Jews are "late" to the social activist party -- and I don't necessarily concede that we are -- perhaps part of the reason is that social convention requires a truly grotesque amount of preparation, costuming, covering, hedging, eliding, and self-effacing before the Jew is admitted through the doors. It's exhausting. And it's hard to blame people for not wanting to show up, when those requirements are allowed to persist unexamined. Finally, when talking of these exclusions we should be clear that this is not even primarily, let alone solely, a POC thing. Indeed, Black people in America have consistently demonstrated their intolerance of antisemitism and their willingness to stand with Jews against antisemitism even in their own community. That history has to be part of the story too. The story of Black-Jewish relations simply isn't -- much as conservative hagiographers might wish it so -- one of self-sacrificing Jews altruistically defending civil rights only to be sold down the river by ungrateful African-Americans who dived headfirst into antisemitic conspiracy-mongering. What it boils down to is this:

Jews are genuinely threatened by the rise of the alt-right. This is a movement that affects us in a real, tangible way -- not as allies, not as "fragile" White people, but as a vulnerable group that is genuinely imperiled by these social forces. Acting as if Jews don't have skin in this game is a form of antisemitism denial.

Currently, the tangible manifestations of extreme-right identity politics have a greater impact on the material conditions of black and brown lives than they do that of White Jews. That assessment in no way falsifies the first bullet point.

All non-Jews, to varying degrees, benefit from the social privileges and prerogatives that exist under conditions of antisemitic domination. This assessment in now way falsifies the second bullet point, it merely establishes a kyriarchical relationship where (in the contemporary American context) racial domination has greater punch than also-extant antisemitic domination does.

The relationship between (proximately-European) Jews and Whiteness is a complex one. Such Jews clearly do not enjoy an unadulterated White privilege (as the seething hatred of White supremacists makes clear). But it is also clear that we enjoy a great many of these privileges and prerogatives on a day-to-day basis. While possession of these privileges does not falsify the existence of antisemitism, neither does experiencing antisemitism falsify the existence of these privileges.

Some Jewish groups have been derelict in their duties to combat this right-wing menace. It is our obligation as Jews to insist that our communal representatives fight against far-right extremist movements both because they threaten us as Jews and because they threat others -- Black people, brown people, queer people, and more -- who may or may not be Jewish.

To the extent that some Whites Jews haven't partaken in anti-right resistance movements in the stock ways typically demanded of White allies, the explanations that apply to White people generally who don't "show up" are not always inapposite. But they are frequently incomplete, and a serious conversation needs to be had about the politics of antisemitic exclusion that afflicts Jews who very much do wish to be involved in left-wing activist spaces or otherwise participate in contemporary progressive politics. This conversation cannot take "they will fight for us" as an axiomatic entitlement.

Do these not fully fit together? Then they don't fully fit together. As I said, I'm torn. I don't claim to fully fit together on this.

via The Debate Link http://ift.tt/2uBzEN4

#anti-semitism #Black #far-right #leftists #nazis #progressives #racism #white supremacy #Whites

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gaaragirl22 · 7 years

Text

Chapter two

Hey! You guys ready to see how Harrys dealing with his Dear Captain attentions being taking or how about what Gils been up to!?! Before I forget the beginning half before the two months marker is a progule telling Iridessa mother story. All mistakes are mine~~also I’ve never read the books so these are pure head cannon. ENJOY!!

Ashnah fought to stand as she watched Merryweather, Flora and Fauna flint into the room. Their wings bringing a low glow into the room allowing her to fully see the dark robes the others were wearing. The sound of heavy rain following in their wake as though the heavens knew what they planned.

“Ashnah…Dear, we know it’s hard to fully understand but some…” Flora trails off looking to Fairy Godmother. Her hands wringing around her wand.

“Are just born Evil. It’s something we need to accept…”

“If I held that same belief,” She whispers looking to Adam and Belle. Her vision wavering as she walks towards them. “ You would have never met!” At her tone her daughter beginnings to whimper. As she tries to soothe her cries she can feels her slipping from her arms she frantically tries to hold her closer…she may be tried but even in her most exhausted state she hadn’t wavered. “Change can happen it takes time and patience-”

“And a willingness to change.” Belle interjects. Taking her husband’s hand she walks forward stopping a few feet before her. “It’s not only us who fear these Villains and their children there are other kingdoms that need our protection and guidance….please Ashnah.”

Her world began to sway as the thunder rumbled from outside the room her daughter cries rising in volume. Dropping to her knees struggling to hold on to her cane, she sees what was bringing about this weakness.

An absorbing stone! They weren’t here to attempt to change her mind…. they were here to capture her. As her daughter opens her mouth to cry aloud. She can feel her own tears fall her heart twisting as she struggles against the encroaching darkness. I’m so sorry, My love…

Two months later If one were to ask anyone on the isle about Captain Hooks only son, Harry Hook, you’re bound to hear a variety of things… “He’s insane! I once saw him challenge a poster to a staring contest…and WON!”

“He’s a flirt! Personal space isn’t a thing he fully understands…I kinda like it.”

OR even.

“He’s Uma lapdog! Comes scurrying anytime that little shrimp-UGH.”

But only one opinion matters to Dear Harry, his Captains…

“He’s my first mate…Are you gonna order or what!?!?”

So we find Harry sitting in Ursula’s fish shop watching his Dear Captain speak in hushed tones to the new girl…he watched as she allowed her to stand close and touch her, even allowing her to cook in the kitchen!

She rarely lets him go back there!

Jumping up with a growl he kicks his seat over. She’s only been here for two months! She hasn’t earned the right to touch Uma she’s barely earned the right to look at her.

Stalking towards Uma who was scanning one of Gils designs for the ship he doesn’t notice how fast the other crew members were scurrying out of his way. His eyes glued to his Captain… the firelight causing her skin to glitter, her hair seeming to shift between midnight blue and seafoam silver. As she looks up with a raised brow causing him to nearly stumble as she stared directly into his eye’s.

No One looks him in the eyes save for his sister and on the off chance he can warrant his attention…his father. When he finally grew curious enough to care as to why they’ve said because when they look too deeply they can feel themselves falling to madness and while that description made him giggle and was great fun for some time he grew bored of people avoiding his eyes…it didn’t stop him from tormenting but it wasn’t as fun…till he met Uma.

The one who doesn’t-no, won’t look away instead she’ll laughs or scoff. The one who knows the method to his madness, who knows how to rail him back from that edge…or fall over it with him. As he slides to her sides making a point to lean close.The new girl comes out of the kitchen carrying a large dish that smells strongly of spice. Gil rushes over with a wide grin trying to grab the dish. He watches as she sits it beside Uma shooing Gil’s hands away. Offering Uma the first bite…not just offering holding it out as though it was an Auradon delicacy.

Grabbing Uma’s arm he glares murderously at the new girl. He doesn’t care how useful Uma thinks this girl is! She was taking privileges with Uma that raised his hackles. Glaring he fails to notice that Uma’s mood has now moved past amused to…very…agitated. “Harry!” She shouts yanking her arm back. Looking first at the silent crowd that was eagerly watching the trio. She looks up into his eyes.“Let’s talk…”

As she leads him into the kitchen he can’t help but send the new girl a grin and a wave. Standing in the cramp kitchen Harry can’t help but stare as Uma pushes out the workers. Like a raging monsoon or perhaps a better description would be a tsunami she sweeps them out all waving arms and cutting glances, before turning to him. A chill goes down his spine as her eyes settle on his.

This was gonna be fun.

She leans against the countertop flicking her hair back with a huff. “What’s got you so deep in your feelings?” She asks staring him down.

He could answer honestly and say that he wants to hook the new girl within an inch of her life…but he’s still not sure how close they were. The safer bet would be to blame Mal or any of the other traitorous VKs.

“I saw that it was close to cotillion time again and couldn’t help but imagine you in one of Gil’s frocks.” He answers stalking closer he reaches out to touch her hair.pausing as she grabs his wrist her touch causing another chill to take him. Her touch almost felt like a burn as his attention went fully to it. He looked down into her face she was looking at him as though she could read his soul and…found the pieces he was hiding.

“Right…Iridessa-” She began letting go of his wrist . Pausing as he decides to come lean beside as though he couldn’t be away from her side for long. “is helping me figure out how we’re getting off the island. So I need you to be on your best behavior.”

“Why haven’t you brought me in on the deal?” He leans closer catching a whiff of her hair. The scent of sea salt and vanilla making his mouth water for a taste. Raking his hand through his hair he refocuses on her voice.

“When I’m sure that this plan can’t fail…trust me, I’ll let you know.”

“Wait-”

“Uh, who’s the captain,again?”She asks folding arms straightening her back to come to her full height….a few inches below his shoulder.

“You are.” He concedes with a smirk. A shiver going down his spine as she puts her hands on her hips.

“You are?”

“First mate.” He moves to stand before almost Kneeling to get in her line of site his breath leaving his lungs as her eyes settle on his with a smirk that can only be described as sweet.

“That’s right. Don’t worry I won’t leave you in the dark too long…just long enough to make sure this is legit.” She runs her fingers through his hair rising a sigh from him. “Let’s get back out there. Remember best behavior.”

As she walks away he takes a moment to catch his thoughts before they wander too far into x rated territory. Walking back into the dining hall he see’s Uma sitting next to the new girl….Iridessa. Quietly he moves to slide up to Uma’s side making sure that she sees him. Grabbing a bite off her plate he sees that Uma has a list written in what looked like a foreign script. It would help if he knew how to read…glancing over Uma’s head to see her smirking with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she touched Uma’s arm.

Uma had asked him to be on his best behavior….but she didn’t say anything about Gils.

// // //

Standing outside of the Villains villia for a good four hours wasn’t what Gil had in mind for his first off day in a long while. But Uma said if he watches for at least a day she’d let him rework the ship’s layout. Working on that would prove to be the most fun and stressful thing he’s ever done. Telling his father that he preferred sewing and creating things instead of fighting or destroying property almost paled in comparison…until he remembered how hard it was to explain that he wasn’t quitting Uma’s crew he just wasn’t focusing on the family business.

Anyway back to his duties Uma said that the Villains might say something that could be useful to them….how? Magic was useless unless you get out of the barrier and even then you’d need a magic item as powerful as Fairy Gods mother wand to bring down the barrier. Mal’s mom had a pretty powerful staff but she’s a lizard, now.

Groaning he reaches into his shirt pulling out the sack of snacks Iridessa gave him since he missed all the clam crisps. As he munched on the dried and spiced roots he sees Evil queen walking out with a bunch in hand along with her every present mirror. Cruelle followed behind yelling instructions to some poor fool who wished to fill the spot their children left.

Quietly….well as quiet as he can be follows the two listening as their conversation varies between old lady talk, ‘Remember when I had control over the entire north west border…Oh those were the times.’ and their desire to act like they weren’t using the five fingers discount. After what feels like hours Gil decides he’s had enough. He’ll just find some other way to rework the ship’s design. As he moves to leave Evil queen asks a question of Cruelle the stops him cold.

“What do you think happened to my magic mirror?” She inquires staring into a particularly shiniest pot.

“The same thing that happened to Maleficent’s spell book…that museum!”

“Oh I don’t know maybe my evie stills uses it…keeps a little bit of me with her…you know?”

“You just want the mirror back!!” Cruelle cackles.

“Yes! Can you blame me? Fits right in the palm of your hand. You can do a complete outfit check and find the nearest prince.”

They rest of their conversation dissolves into bickering but Gil was already gone. His excitement at hearing some kind of useful information makes him tear down the street and straight into Harry.

“What’s put a flame under your feet, Gilly?” He asks grinning widely as he grips the back of his shirt as he tries to walk away.

“Oh, it’s nothing…really! I just got to get to Uma… really fast.”

“Oh, well.” Harry sighed releasing his collar. “That I can understand….about what exactly.”

Taking a step back Gil eye’s the first mate with his usual exasperated expression. He wasn’t going like this…like at all.

“I would tell you, really, I would but Iridessa said that this is like a super secret mission so…” His stomach dropped as Harry’s face slowly took a frightening journey. His eyes squinting, his smile dropped a hard cough exiting his lungs before he folds in half with a crazed fit of laughter. Leaving Gil to wonder if he can make a break for it…

As he moves to slide past a hand lands on his shoulder the grip tight making him grimace. Slowly he turns back to the face that haunts his nightmares…his only seen it once when he and Uma had falling asleep together on the ship…it was cold and there was only one blanket! It wasn’t his fault!

“Gil,what am I?” Harry asks leaning forward staring intensely into his eyes. His mind began to race. What could he say that wouldn’t get him punched or pushed on his butt. He could say son of Hook but that’s a who not what…maybe a close friend but he might not agree with that. Oh, what about first mate to Uma, he might like that. “Gil!”

No time to pick! “You are Harry Hook, son of Captain Hook, close friend and first mate to Uma!?”

After a beat Harry raises a brow, tilting his head. “Right, First mate.” Letting go his shoulder. “As first mate I’m the one Uma comes to for advice and to bounce ideas off of. Which means?”

Not another question he didn’t have the brainpower for this! if he keeps this up he’ll forget what he supposed to tell Uma!

“I’ll find out about this mission she sent you on and…” Harry continues pausing to dust off his shoulder. “I’m sure she won’t be all too happy to hear that one of her crew was trying to go against her.”

His mind begins to race again would he be going against if he kept her order. But Iridessa was the one who told him to keep it a secret…but Uma agreed! Does that count?

“I’ll let you be on your way then…” Harry began offering a deep bow before his back.

“Wait!” Gil shouts his hand outstretched dropping it as Harry turned back with a wide grin. “You’re gonna find out anyway, right?” At Harry’s nod he continues. “Maleficent gave Mal a spell book and there’s a chance it’s in a museum or she has it.” He breathed watching as Harry’s face fell.

“That’s it!” He shouts Throwing his hands on the air before vigorously motion at him. “That was your mission!”

“Hey, I worked hard to get that. You stand outside for hours with only veggie snacks to eat! It’s not as much fun as you would think.” Gil says folding his arms in offense. Dragging his hand down his face he looks up at the sky. With a heavy sigh he reaches into his coat pulling out a small tightly wrapped gray box.

Holding it out he says, “Take this to the new girl.” As Gil takes the box he pulls him close staring into his eyes. “Don’t.Open.It.”

“Where are you going?” Taking the box he’s surprised by its wait. And by the fact that Harry never gets anyone but Uma a gift.

“To Do my duties as first mate.” He tosses over his shoulder as he picks up a rock tossing it in the air.

Shrugging Gil heads to the shop. He had the information and a gift to deliver. What she need the information for wasn’t that important to him. Uma rarely did anything to endanger them. She didn’t force them to join like other crews she just…knew what they wanted and gave it to them. She knew that he had no wish to join the family business so she gave him a way out. Whatever she was gonna do with this info probably won’t be used to hurt them…at least not if Uma wanted it.

#harry x uma #huma #descendants 2 #huma fanfic #wrote the whole thing on my phone #i need a laptop #asap

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msbrightside85 · 7 years

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Signage part deux and other points of note

As I have been writing my ideas for this blog there were just a couple things that I thought needed a mention and so welcome to the latest ramblings. Probably the most random to date. I hope you’re ready.

Umbrellas Some of you may think the concept of an umbrella is a fairly simple one and therefore not worth a note but you would be wrong. Although it won't be a long note, it is noteworthy. When you look out of your window in England and you see people walking around with their umbrellas up you know that it's a usual day and it's raining. So you prepare yourself for the day ahead with brolly in hand. But in China, women use umbrellas to block out the sun (not parasols – I can assure you they are definitely of the water deterring variety) and so this pre-forecast solution which is possible in England is alas, impossible in China. You can even buy black out umbrellas which block the sun entirely. The thinking behind this? Their skin is sensitive to the sun and tans aren't that cool here. So no spray tans for me for a while (probably for the best considering my one and only experience was when I came back from a cruise whiter than when I went!)

H2O Yup I'm talking about water. First thing, you don't drink the water here (or it isn't advised) so you either need to purchase it bottled or have it delivered and pay a deposit to have the dispenser in your flat. So what is noteworthy about this? Not only is water cheap, the bottles are crazy full. Like inappropriately full. Please people do not ever open a new bottle of water in China when you are ready to go out because I can assure you that you will end up with water all over yourself because the bottles are filled to the very top! You're welcome.

Road rage (or the lack of it) The roads here are CRAZY. I've already informed you of the right hand turn death trap and painted a pretty clear picture of what the roads are like. What I didn't mention is the HONKING. A constant chorus of different sounds varying in length and type.

Now, as a non driver I am of course gleaning any road rage knowledge from you guys but I think most people are of the same mind. In England, a honk on it's own generally doesn't suffice if you wish to adequately express your rage towards a fellow driver. It is usually accompanied by fist shaking, violent language, gestures or all of the above.

In China however, the honk is enough. They are satisfied with their honk. It's actually quite amusing to witness. Despite the craziness of the roads and the amount of times the drivers exercise their honking rights I have yet to see a driver (or passenger – let's be honest even I can't say I'm completely road rage innocent) shake their fist, say anything in an aggressive tone or gesture at other cars on the road. A simple honk battle ensues with no emotion from the people in the car at all.

But to add another element to the story … this sign (yes I am a little obsessed with the signage as you've probably gathered by now) is one of the most common ones I've seen …

So how can they have these signs everywhere and still be a honk mad city (or country - I wouldn't know as I haven't ventured beyond Suzhou's borders yet) I guess the mystery remains unsolved for now. Answers on a postcard.

Signage (revisited) So while we are talking about the honking sign we may as well revisit signage in general as I have been able to capture some corkers of late that I would like to share with you. These guys love signage. It's everywhere. But the direct English translation and the pictures are usually cause for much amusement. Let's start with a simple one.

This one makes me chuckle everytime. Just one of those things that gets you. I love the dramatic way the person seems to be diving head first, yet there are no steps pictured. Be careful people. It's a dangerous steppy world out there, even when the ground seems completely level.

What do we have next? Ah yes. The subway. Fraught with dangers and of course accompanying signage. Firstly, Suzhou subways are fab. They're clean, easy to move between and change and very cheap compared to English transportation. One standard journey costs you around 35p and if you buy a travel card you get a discount on each journey. So of course I have a travel card :) The cards also get you discounted travel on the bus so are totally worth it.

Anyway as usual I have digressed. Subways. Yes. All of the subway stations have escalators so this sign is usually displayed somewhere.

Let's take a look at the pictures (left to right). So I think we can agree on the first one, don't do any gymnast type jumps or landings on the escalator. I think it could still be misinterpreted as people shouldn't remake an OK GO style music video on the escalator …. but maybe that's just me. Google it if you didn’t get the reference. Google while you still can! Actually having looked at all of the pictures I'm wondering whether the first picture is actually referring to the hand rail rather than the escalator itself as the other pictures have the stairs in them. Wow. I bet you're glad you took time out of your day to read this! It's so enthralling mulling over the depictions of subway signage in China. But you're here now so you may as well see it through to the bitter end …

Oh you decided to stay? Good :)

So I would hope most people wouldn't want to push their small child down the escalator in their push chair but just in case you get the urge, the second picture is the perfect one for you. As for the third one, well I was also surprised to see a Torvill and Dean (showing my age) reference in China but this country continues to wow and amaze me. So I guess Torvill and Dean it is. Don't copy them on an escalator it's dangerous, regardless of how many times you've seen Dancing on Ice. I love this old school looking case in the forth picture and there has been more than once that I've wanted to lob mine down an escalator in frustration of carting it around but remember kids just say no.

Now the last two pictures are by far my favourite of the bunch. It is not permitted for us ladies (yes I include myself in this category) to be coy around our male counterparts or display any flirtation (don’t know what I mean? I’m referring to her leg being slightly bent at the knee in picture five) yet it is encouraged that we reach out to hold the hands of strangers before attempting to descend into the subway depths of Suzhou (picture six). I'm not sure every male stranger would be happy if I followed the advice of this sign and reached out for their support (as I am a mere fragile woman) but if the sign says so who am I to argue?

Ok so the next sparkling examples are from random excursions. First this one ...

I went out to meet Candy one day at a new cafe and on the way I had to walk over this bridge. MIND YOUR HEAD PEOPLE. Now your head is a precious thing that's for sure but surely there is an irony when the mind your head sign is dangling down from the bridge lower than the bridge itself, therefore creating the head banging hazard?! I also think the sheer number of signs deserves a mention. Are that many really necessary? I’ll let you make your own mind up.

It didn't end there.

Now I am happy to admit that because I don't have weekends off that when I venture out on a Monday and Tuesday it might well be a little quieter out and about because most people are at work but as you can see there was no one using this particular bridge AT ALL. So crowding? I don't know. I can't imagine it being a problem. I’ve actually been surprised overall by the lack of crowding here considering the number of people there are. The other instruction is very handy though … up and down stairs … ha ha just in case you needed the clarification :) and finally and most importantly be careful. Always. Who knows what could happen if not you're careful around stairs ... I also like the way the advice on the signage alternates as you go up. Didn’t notice? Take another look ...

I tell you, these signage guys must be making an absolute killing so if anyone is looking for a new career opportunity in a flourishing market then get your butt out here. So surely that's it? Nuh uh.

You have to wonder who these signs are aimed at and this one is a prime example. Is the person likely to throw something over the edge going to take note and rethink their actions after seeing this sign? Same goes for someone considering jumping off! Will a sign be enough to make them change their mind? Probably not. It made my day though so I will not regret their creation!!

And last but not least?

We were on a bus the other day and as you will no doubt be sure of … this was not my first bus journey here. I am bound to public transport as buying an ebike is most certainly not an option … more for other people's safety than my own!! But anyway … we were on a bus and I saw this sign on the window.

How may I ask should one replenish the safety hammer if said hammer is missing?!!?!? Your guess is as good as mine dear readers. Can you imagine if someone could actually step up to the challenge and spontaneously replace the hammer with an exact replica? Me neither.

Did anyone spot the other instruction? Emergency percussion this point … are you picturing someone getting their xylophone mallets out and beating away at the window? Or is that just me? No I didn't know the sticks you play a xylophone with are called mallets I just googled it.

Well that's all we've got time for today but i'd like to leave you with this ,,, parlez vous francais?

#umbrellas #water #h2o #drinkingwater #roadrage #honking #gesturing #language #cars #traffic #signage #signs #translation #pictures #subway #safety #funny #suzhou #china

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kaoruyogi · 7 years

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How to Win Wars and Influence Nobles (Ch. 2)

Rating: E for Explicit/NSFW Content!

Check it out on AO3!

You’d think a video game lawyer could just drop into a pseudo-medieval universe filled with magic and demons and be totally okay with it, right?

Nah.

In the wake of her brother, Spencer’s, disappearance, Belle dropped into Thedas with luggage, but without a clue. After a brief but memorable panic attack, she resolved to be the best goddamn lawyer Thedas had ever seen. Even if she was the only goddamn lawyer Thedas had ever seen. And even if that obstinate asshole, Cullen, wouldn’t stop giving her the side-eye every time she walked into a room…Or every time he walked into a room with her in it…Or every time they walked into a room together…Or–Fuck it. You get it.

Chapter 2: That Vexing Interloper

The queerly dressed, foul-mouthed woman cried for nearly three hours after she woke the second time. Josephine insisted that all three advisors wait in the woman’s room until she calmed enough to discuss how she’d come to be with them. The entire exercise was feckless and pretextual as far as he was concerned. They could have put her in the cells to question her, or Leliana could have extracted whatever information she wanted in her own way. Instead they detained her in comfort, in her own room, while so many shared quarters or slept in tents in the valley below. That thought alone left him piqued—agitated in a way he never would have been if he’d seen anyone else crying. Anyone but her.

The way she’d spoken to him was impudent, to say the very least. While it was clear she had no idea who he was, that fact mattered little to him. That she thought her desires were more important than their cause, however, was a galling concept. He despised the nobility for the same reason, making it obvious to him that the two of them were not going to see eye to eye.

However, Leliana was uncharacteristically kind to her, and Josephine rubbed her back and cooed soothing little assurances for almost the entirety of the three hours of sobbing. Cullen stood with his arms crossed by the door, glowering at the weeping woman. She rocked back and forth, whimpering and puling, having wrapped herself up in a blanket to ward the cool winds away from her pale skin. Loose, winding tendrils of her deep red hair fell over her shoulder as she sniffled and swayed.

He would puff out a loud sigh every now and again to remind the women that they all had better things to do than watch this vexing interloper lament her circumstances. Josephine stared more than a few daggers into him in response. So there he waited. Until she finally began to speak.

Her name was Belle. She haled from someplace called “Orange County, California”—a strange name for a strange place. The year there was 2017, but she couldn’t explain what age it was. She said they didn’t have ages, but then rattled on about the “Middle Ages” and the “Bronze Age” and the “Industrial Age” and something about how ages were never named until after they were over in a flustered stream of consciousness he thought would never end. He became more grateful as she rambled that they hadn’t had time to question the other one. There was no telling what the young man may have spewed out in this state.

She asked for her glasses, telling Cullen they were in her purse next to him. When he looked inside the black and cream colored satchel, a jumble of bright colors and papers and tiny trinkets perplexed him so that he just hurled the whole mess onto the bed in front of her.

“Oh my God, will you stop disrespecting my shit?!” She hollered her curses at him after the odd leather bag spilled some of its contents, an angry, wounded look on her tear-swollen face. “First you want to dig through it, then you don’t want to dig through it, then you’re fucking hucking it at me.” Her head swung from one side to the other as she spoke, her voice still a bit nasal. “Fine. I get it. You don’t like me. You don’t want me here. Well, guess what, Commander Cullen Ruther-whateverthefuck of the Inquisition, I don’t want to be here either.”

She opened an misshapen orange leather pouch and pulled out a pair of clear eyeglasses, not at all like the dark monstrosities she’d been wearing when they found her. Once they were affixed to her face, she looked at him again, calmer this time. “But apparently I’m stuck here. So apparently you’re stuck with me.”

He couldn’t argue with her logic. Though he might argue that they weren’t quite as stuck with her as she was in Thedas. They could take her to Denerim or Val Royeaux and be rid of her. He remained silent, keeping that option to himself.

“How did you come to Thedas?” Leliana asked.

“I don’t know. If I had to guess, it probably happened when that weird green wormhole thing defied all science and reason and sucked me up in the middle of the street.”

The spymaster turned her attention to Cullen. “Your men said she fell from a rift, did they not?”

Of the three of them, he’d had the greatest exposure to Fade rifts. He spent days after the Breach opened fighting off the demons gushing out of the things. So he nodded. “That is also how the first one fell into the wreckage of the Temple. I do not know what a ‘wormhole’ is, but the way she describes it, I believe it is a Fade rift. How one might have opened in this ‘Orange County’ without simply pouring out demons is rather puzzling.”

“Perhaps we should ask Dagna to research this,” Josephine said, speaking up for the first time in what may have been minutes or hours. Her hand still rested on the bespectacled intruder’s shoulder.

Leliana nodded. “Yes, though she will want to take samples.”

A bulky curl flew through the air as the Belle’s head whirled to level a stare at the spymaster. “What do you mean, ‘samples’? Like, ‘oh we’ll just take a piece of her shirt and a few skin cells’ samples or, ‘well, hey, it’s time to chop off a foot’ samples?”

“Somewhere in between, I imagine.”

“Listen, if you’re trying to be funny, comedy has this thing called ‘timing.’ I don’t think you’ve grasped it.”

The spymaster smiled—actually smiled—at the impertinent woman, and she managed to smile back. It was a weak thing, but there was something pleasing about it. It was genuine and warm, and her bottom lip stretched more than her top one. He cleared his throat to jostle himself from the thought.

Three sets of eyes fixed themselves on him, all of them perturbed. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and when the women had determined he had nothing useful to add they returned to their conversation.

“You guys keep talking about ‘the young man’ and ‘the other one.’ There was someone else who dropped in on you like I did?”

Leliana nodded. “There was.”

“Who is he? Do he and I have anything in common that might have drawn both of us here?” Belle’s hazel eyes bore a glimmer of hope beneath their watery sheen.

“I think perhaps we will keep his name to ourselves until he returns in five days’ time. We are uncertain whether anything may link the two of you, and we have not yet ruled out Corypheus’s involvement in your sudden appearance.”

Offhand, Cullen couldn’t fathom anything that might have linked the young man to Belle. They differed in far too many ways.

“I don’t know who or what that is, but I get it.” The outsider accepted Leliana’s reply with too little protest, in his opinion. While he preferred this non-sobbing version of her, he found her sudden surrender peculiar.

As if reading his thoughts, she looked him dead in the eye and said, “It’s pointless for me to argue with you all. I gather that you’re at war here—needing a Commander and a keep and the clanging swords outside and everything—and I definitely can’t get home without another wormhole or rift or whatever. So all I can do for now is wait until we sort this out and thank you for your help.” Her stare was fixed on him as she spoke, her voice leaving her dusky lips in a tone so even and controlled it was like a different person was talking.

Could they read minds in Orange County?

“Do you have a trade where you come from?” Josephine asked. It was a good question. The Inquisition could not afford to feed anyone that did not work, let alone quarter them. In a private tower only feet from his own. He stifled a growl at the thought.

Belle sniffled and pushed at her nose with her knuckle. “I did. I do? Yes, I guess would be the best answer, ignoring tenses. I’m an attorney.”

Confounded glances flicked between each of the advisors. It was a rare occasion, indeed, when not one of them knew the meaning of a word. Even rarer when the word was related to a trade. Their combined experience with the varied peoples of Thedas offered them a wide pool of knowledge from which to draw their comprehension. Orange County must have been quite bizarre.

Josephine, it seemed, was the first of them brave enough to admit she did not understand. “I apologize. I have never heard of such a trade.” Her hazel eyes cast down for a moment as she considered her next words. “What does it entail?” she asked, looking to Belle’s face again. Their eyes appeared remarkably similar in color from where he stood.

“Oh. Um. Okay, so you don’t have attorneys here. That must make things easier and harder all at once.” Belle was muttering again. She took a deep breath, and as she did her hands rose up in front of her. Her nails were long and covered in some sort of paint. Tiny lines and patterns wove from finger to finger in glittering shades of blue and purple and pink. It was like nothing Cullen had ever encountered before. Like miniscule paintings. Perhaps “attorney” meant “painter” where she came from.

“Okay, an attorney is someone who works with the law,” she said. Her hands moved while she spoke, her long fingers curving with surprising delicacy. Her pinkies stayed out straighter than the others, but not completely straight. Odd.

Cullen ventured a guess. “Is it a post in a guard force?”

Belle bunched her mouth up on the left side of her face. “Not really? Umm…” She hummed and drew both lips between her teeth. “Attorneys—or lawyers or counselors we’re sometimes called—help create the law. Then we help people use the law to protect themselves and attack others who’ve violated it.” Strange. Cullen had only ever heard of monarchs and nobility making the law or punishing violators.

“Most of us specialize in a particular area or study because there are so many laws. I specialize in video ga—Um…I worked a lot on negotiations, drawing up contracts, employment agreements, privacy agreements, and terms of use, and with copyright and trademark stuff. I worked on some incorporations. I also did a little bit of business advisory work with some of my clients. I’d help them with strategies to grow their companies and make more money. Oh, and I do a little mediating here and there.” She splayed her fingers out in a kind of shrug and raised her eyebrows. He supposed she was finished.

Cullen had never seen Josephine’s eyes light up like they did as Belle explained herself. No one in that room understood some of the words she’d said. There was little doubt about that. But Josephine heard “negotiations,” “contracts,” “agreements,” “grow,” and “more money” and began to glow like the sun. It was unsettling.

Leliana let out a small laugh—also unsettling. “I believe we may have found someone of your ilk, Josie.”

The lady ambassador ignored the remark, the entirety of her energy now honed in on their uninvited guest. She spoke with the voice of a child on Satinalia morning. “Truly? Your work involves contracts and negotiations?” She leaned forward as she pried—unaware of her own movement, Cullen imagined. Josephine was not one to relinquish her composure.

Meanwhile, Belle leaned back, eyes wide with surprise and mouth bearing a poorly bitten back grin. “Yes. That’s most of what I do—did—” She let out an exasperated sigh. She seemed to be having some difficulty reconciling her past and present. “Most of it has to do with contracts and negotiations. There’s other work, but that was my bread and butter.” A fitting choice of words, as that was what she would have to earn for as long as she stayed with them.

If she was not working for Corypheus.

Josephine’s expression turned pensive in a flash. “I could use someone like you. The nobility are fickle, and while many of them are useful for a transaction or two, there is no constant but me to track all of the Inquisition’s contracts. And I have no neutral nobility but myself to engage in negotiations.”

Belle’s face twisted into something like disgust. Who was she to feel disgusted at anything? Cullen’s contempt for her dredged itself up afresh, pricking at his fingertips, clutching the pommel of his sword just a little tighter.

“You’re doing all this by yourself? I mean, I get that you have people who work one or two cases for you, but no one’s got a consistent workload but you? And you’re the only negotiator for—what is this—a whole army?”

“The Inquisition is a peacekeeping force instituted to end the mage rebellion, seal the Breach, find those responsible, and bring them to justice.” Cullen said it like he’d said it hundreds of times. He had. Every new recruit that passed under his command heard it before anything else. They needed to hear it before anything else.

But their pale stranger looked unimpressed. “Okay, thanks. At ease.” She flicked her wrist and hand in an odd kind of salute and looked away for a moment before her eyes snapped back to him. “Wait a second, did you just fucking say ‘mage’?”

The conversation sped up from there. Much to Cullen’s chagrin, Leliana and Josephine poured information out to the interloper, who it seemed had never seen magic or even heard of a real mage. They explained the mage uprising in as simple a set of terms as they could, told her about the Temple of Sacred ashes, the Breach, and Corypheus, and she learned of the events at Haven less than a month ago. Leliana didn’t seem to think Belle was as much a threat as he did. She said too much, in his opinion. But it was her knowledge to give, and not his place to question. He was beginning to feel he was just there to stand guard and be ignored.

It was agreed upon—without Cullen’s input—that Belle would be granted access to Skyhold proper. She would read and research the laws and customs of Thedas until the Inquisitor’s return in five days. With him would come the Inquisition’s other drop-in and Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. At that time, the advisors, Cassandra, and the Inquisitor would make a second assessment of both the outsiders’ potential threat level and determine whether they could remain part of the organization. If their statements were deemed credible and their loyalty assured, Belle would begin working as Josephine’s primary associate. This would put her in a position of power, allowing her access to the Inquisition’s funds, authority to negotiate and contract on behalf of the Inquisition, and the ability to communicate with all the nobility of Thedas. Cullen did not wish the last duty upon anyone.

They left her after nightfall, and after she finally realized they had moved her to the upper floor of a very tall tower. She whimpered something about a fear of heights and Josephine promised her a staircase if all went as she hoped. Leliana whispered something to one of her scouts on the battlements. He nodded and vanished into the night.

“She will be watched closely,” said the spymaster.

Cullen nodded his relief and approval. “She must be.”

*****

It was three days before he saw Belle again. Three times a day, Leliana’s scouts would report to her, then to him. Most of what they told him was innocuous. Belle spent the majority of her time in one of the libraries, and could either be found with her nose buried in a tome in the rotunda or amid the dusty shelves beneath Josephine’s office.

She screamed the first time she saw Dorian do magic, but immediately grabbed him by the wrist to demand that he do it again. One of the scouts reported seeing her in the garden trying to replicate the simple spell to no avail. Cullen thanked his lucky stars for that. The last thing he needed was an untrained mage traipsing about unattended.

She also spat out ale the first time someone gave it to her in the Herald’s Rest, claiming something about a sensitive stomach. Cullen wondered if that was a ruse she played up to keep her wits about her while she spied on them. She wouldn’t be the first to avoid dampening her senses to keep a keen eye.

She even blanched at shedding her clothes in the baths. He could only perceive such reticence as concealment of some telling mark on her body. Some scar or brand on her flesh must have bound her to Corypheus. And she saturated an otherwise clean drying cloth. Wasteful.

There was yet another report that Belle swallowed several smooth pebble-shaped objects every morning and sometimes throughout the day. They emerged from a mélange of bottles in varying shapes and colors. He was also told that she counted the objects that remained in the bottles with a look of worry affixed to her face. When asked once, she said they were for her stomach, head, back, and neck. She called them “pills” and “meds.” Adan speculated when pressed that perhaps, in Orange County, these “pills” and “meds” were a means of delivering healing herbs—like a potion or a poultice for one’s innards. Rubbish. Cullen suspected she was hiding magical items in her gut. Or perhaps she was swallowing the bits to keep some enchantment in place. As far-fetched as it may have sounded to someone else, he had seen stranger things. Recently, in fact.

It was well into the depths of Belle’s third night in Skyhold when Cullen encountered her again. He’d tried to sleep. At least he played at trying to fall asleep. Sleep was an elusive thing, grasping it a fever dream in and of itself. Most nights he managed about two or three hours of tumultuous rest, tossing and turning and plagued by nightmares of horrors past. He was beset by night sweats and lyrium withdrawal symptoms, made worse by the fact that he was still hiding his cessation of the stuff from the Inquisitor. The man had enough troubles without being burdened with Cullen’s.

He threw on the nearest breeches and tunic he could find, not bothering with the small laces that would have made his shirt presentable. The knot at the hip of his breeches was lazy at best. He just needed a cup of water. He convinced himself that would be enough to help him sleep. He pulled on his boots with his feet more than his hands, stomping his way past his grip to don the worn leather things.

After descending the ladder and exiting his quarters, Cullen cast a quick glance at Belle’s tower. Belle’s tower. He scoffed at the thought. It sat just above the stables where the horses and Warden Blackwall made their beds for the night. They should have given that tower to the Warden, not to some irksome woman who fell through a rift. No light or sound emanated from within, so Cullen believed her to be asleep.

He travelled down the stairs against the battlements into the rear courtyard. It was the way he always went when he needed water in the middle of the night. The way he could disturb the fewest people and be watched by the fewest guards. He tugged the wooden door open as quietly as he could, knowing that many of the cooks and servants slept just below. Likewise, he silenced his footfalls. He’d woken Donatien once, and was loathe to suffer the cook’s spoon-flailing wrath a second time.

An odd shadow on the wall and the sound of quiet humming stilled his steps. There was someone else in the kitchen. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on her. Belle sat on the floor next to roaring fireplace in a tangle of limbs. Her back settled against the wall. She wore a soft shirt with a strange image on it, black breeches made from a similar material covering her crossed legs. A heavy looking book lay open between her knees, its spine resting on one of her bare ankles. Her feet were bare too, and the toes of her right foot wiggled on her left thigh. Her right hand sat on the edge of the volume, holding a page aloft as though she was about to turn it. The fingers of her left hand splayed across her cheek. Cullen lost sight of three of them under her hair. It glowed like a fiery halo about her round face, set alight by the flames beside her. Her pinky brushed back and forth across her parted lower lip as she read, the nail occasionally finding itself between her teeth. Her lips were plush and soft like the rest of her body. They were rather enticing when they weren’t spewing vitriol at him.

She turned the page and reached down without looking. The movement drew Cullen’s attention away from his dangerous thoughts about her lips. Her fingers tapped the floor around a half-eaten Orlesian bread roll on a cloth in front of her knee. Her head turned to find the bread her hand hadn’t, and she grabbed it up. But then she caught sight of him.

Belle’s whole body jerked, hurling her bread into the fire and slamming the thick tome shut between her thighs with a loud thump. Her hand flew up to grip her chest. She gasped hard, her supple lips emitting what he could only imagine was a string of curses. “Jesus balls on a bike!” She hissed in a breath. “Fuck!”

He was frozen in place, overwhelmed by boyhood sensation so familiar it made his chest ache. Like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have done. Seeing something he shouldn’t have seen. But that was wrong. She was the one doing something she shouldn’t have. “What are you doing in here at this time of night?”

She panted a few hard breaths before her hazel eyes flew up to meet his. “Reading, having a snack, what’s it look like? I’m a bad traveler, and I have no fucking idea what time zone this is, but I’m having a very hard time getting on your schedule. I’m also not a huge fan of climbing that godforsaken ladder in the tower. I should ask you the same thing. Shouldn’t you be—I dunno—sleeping or brooding or something?” There it was.

But he was befuddled. “I was…having trouble sleeping and I came in here for some water.” Maker’s breath. Why did he still feel he owed her an explanation?

She squinted up at him from behind her glasses. “Why are you so sweaty? It’s, like, forty-three degrees outside.”

He hadn’t noticed the sweat beading at his forehead and along his back until that moment. But he would not be explaining himself to the nettlesome woman any further. “You should not be in here.”

It was then that she stood. Belle snatched up the heavy book from the floor and marched right up to him. She stopped just shy of their bodies colliding. This close, Cullen could see the details of her eyes. They were blue-green like the sea, but a thick bronze starburst surrounded her pupils. Little flecks of ochre and sienna in that bronze ring made it look like armor—like a round shield that had been battered and marred and dented in the heat of battle. Where the rest of her was soft, her eyes were hard. Warrior’s eyes.

And those embattled eyes darted about, examining his face and boring down into him. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I find you suspicious.”

“It’s more than that, though. I think there’s something fundamental about me you don’t like.” She canted her head to the side, her gaze never leaving his. Her lips had a natural part when she paused. “That’s fine. But when you find my story credible—and rest assured you didn’t have to wait for whoever the hell is coming back here to do that—we’re going to have to work together, you and I. And that, Commander Cullen Rutherford, is something you’re going to have to come to grips with.”

Belle stepped back, still staring at him. He held himself firm, keeping his posture tight and his jaw clenched. She was right. There was something fundamentally infuriating about her. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Perhaps it was her obstinacy or her foul mouth or her general disregard for their well-founded suspicions. Perhaps it was the way she looked at him.

Book in hand, she slipped past Cullen toward the back door through which he had entered. “By the way,” she said behind him, “I don’t know what kind of drugs you have here in Thedas, but I’ve seen plenty of people detox before. You were right to come down for water. And you should take extra. Hydration is key.” The door closed, shutting out her tempestuous eyes and her confounding lips once more.

He felt exposed. He did not know what “detox” meant, but the way she said it…Maker. She knew something about him that no one else did. She must have.

He retrieved his water from the deep basin and drank it down. It was cool on his parched throat, though it did little to soothe his frayed nerves. He was naked to her. He couldn’t shake the feeling. It hovered over him as he trudged back to his tower, as he climbed his ladder, as he lay sleepless through the wee hours of the morning.

Unsettling, needling woman.

It was yet another two days before he saw her again. She stood beside Josephine on the steps of Skyhold outside the main hall, awaiting Inquisitor Trevelyan’s arrival. She seemed firm and composed, an occasional sigh the only sign of her nerves. Even when the Inquisitor and his companions rode through the gate, she remained still. Until the young man came in.

He marched alongside several of Cullen’s infantrymen, his every step dutiful despite the cheering around them. Cullen realized he wasn’t the only one watching Belle when the soldiers entered. Leliana and Josephine had also locked their eyes on her.

But all she could do was stare down at the portcullis. Her eyes widened first. Her jaw dropped open next. At her sides, her hands trembled. She murmured something they couldn’t quite hear. When Josephine asked Belle to repeat herself, she obliged, only a touch louder.

“P,” she said. One letter, her voice barely a whisper as she said it.

“What?” Josephine asked.

“Spencer!”

Ah. So they did know each other.

*****

#cullen #cullen rutherford #commander cullen #cullen x belle #belle dolan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #fanfic #mgit #htwwain #self indulgence au

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irkimatsu · 7 years

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Talking about OCs makes me miss my old crew... would anyone want to read little profiles on them? It's been a long time, so this is just little things I remember about them as I try to regain contact with them... this post has a main plot summary and profiles for one of the teams, the main team the story focused on. I think it'd take two more posts to cover my entire cast; one for the other plot relevant team, and one for a bunch of side characters that weren't as fleshed out, but that I still had fun with.

One issue with this is that a lot of plot and character details did come from two other people I used to roleplay with... I’m still in contact with both, but we stopped roleplaying years ago. I sometimes struggle to remember what was my idea and what was theirs...

LONG POST ALERT

The main setup of the story was, there's an alternate dimension that's a lot like ours. Everyone looks human, and they developed pretty much the same way we did, with a similar technological level. (For better, and for worse. People are assholes no matter what dimension they're in, sadly.) The main difference, however, is that the people here have the power to manipulate things around them. The elements, objects around them, human bodies... (I had a lot about how this influenced certain major events, including their technology, but alas, those notes are lost to time.) I called these people "Mages", but was always trying to come up with something better. A high-level Mage called Sura discovers the secret to inter-dimensional travel, and gets the idea to travel to other dimensions and see what she can find out there - valuable treasures, powerful secrets, just raid these places with no regard for the people living there. And... the rest of the Mages didn't really have much regard for other people from other dimensions, either. They were generally a very snobbish sort, regarding their magic and way of life as better than any other dimension could possibly have. But they knew on an intellectual level that this was probably bad, so a large number of adult Mages regardless of skill level ended up drafted by the government, known as the Council, and sent to these other worlds to recruit armies and stop Sura. These armies weren't treated very well, more like pawns than anything, but they must listen, it's for their own good, don't they understand? There was very much a "no side of this is innocent" element to the whole thing.

One particular dimension involved in this was Earth. Earth was a curious case; unlike most other peoples, the population here doesn't seem to have any inherent magic at all. Oh, those poor things, how do they survive? But they have one unique trait; they may not have any inner magic of their own, but if they can ally themselves with a magic user - the exact details of this allegiance varies depending on where the magic user came from - they can wield any sort of magic imaginable. They may not be much innately, but when it comes to magical potential, they're the most diverse population anyone has ever seen.

No wonder Sura's interested in studying these people, even if that means tearing their auras apart in the name of science...

Ven:

-A Mage who was drafted to be sent to Earth to train an army. He wants nothing to do with this, but his hands are tied. Responsibility is not his favorite thing in the world.

-Back in his dimension, he worked as a bar host. A total social butterfly; loves talking to and meeting new people, and is very good at modifying his behavior to blend in with groups. ...for the most part. He's also a hopeless flirt, and his social skills drop the more attracted to someone he is. He can be incredibly brazen. Some people like his straightforward style. Others smack him. He's never deterred, though. ...well, he'll probably stop flirting with that particular person once he reaches the smack point, but that's fine, he'll happily skip off to the next possible prospect. He doesn't dwell on missed opportunities for long.

-In general, he's a total perv and slob. Having him as a roomate is... exhausting. Prepare to fish his late night guest's underwear out from the couch cushions and to accept regular deliveries from Internet porn shops...

-Skilled at elemental magic, particularly wind, but that's more from innate talent than actual effort. He could have happily grown up in a world where he didn't have magical powers, and barely uses them in his daily life if he doesn't have to. It's more of a chore than anything. Not very good at anything else at the start. He honestly never expected to be drafted in the first place, given his poor skills, but it seems the higher-ups didn't have many qualifications for the people they chose besides "pulse". Ven is of low status, so he's cattle.

-Doesn't generally agree with his society's high-and-mighty act; would actually love to travel to other dimensions and meet the people there. That's the main reason he doesn't fight against his drafting. He doesn't normally pay attention to politics, though, so it's not like he fights against their bigotry, and he tends to be out of the loop when it comes to more complicated political issues. As time goes on and he learns more about the war, though, he becomes more and more frustrated, to the point where he'll denounce his people entirely if it means protecting Earth. He's met people here that are very worth protecting.

-Sexual preference is "Sure, how much?" Will screw anyone who'll let him, gender be damned. He'd never dream of violating consent, but the second you do consent, Ven can't get to the nearest soft, stable surface with you fast enough. He can be wild and pervy, but he's still a respectful partner who wants to make sure you have a good time, too. He does have a flaw here, though - he's aromantic and doesn't form any particular bond with anyone he sleeps with. He's had plenty of partners he'd never seen before or since. This in itself isn't a flaw, but the idea of bonding through sex is such a foreign concept to him that he tends to ignore the possibility that the other person might not feel the same way. He's upfront about his intentions and believes that's enough; if his partner later ends up developing feelings for him, this can lead to awkward situations that Ven takes no responsibility for, because hey, weren't they warned? Will hopefully get better at this through character development. Will always be aromantic, but could stand to learn some sensitivity toward people who aren’t.

-Short blonde hair, white skin, average height. Usually wearing a white suit. Looking proper is a good way of fitting in with social situations and setting people at ease, you know. (Until someone hot walks in and he turns into a drooling idiot, anyway. And when he's not lounging around on the couch in his boxers. His public and private presentations are VERY different.)

-In an alliance with two Earth girls. They’re teenagers at the start, but some adventures progress through their adulthood. He regards these two as his family and can be very protective of them. They are...

Nicole:

-Hyper!!! Loud!!! Stop!!!

-Actually a bit of a jab against "weeaboo" culture - she definitely had some pretty bad traits there. Random Japanese, shipping people who she had no business shipping... she meant well, she could just be... kind of annoying. She grows out of it.

-The second she's offered the opportunity to be a magical girl she's right on that, hell yeah, gonna be an anime hero! Is stunned to realize it actually takes effort. Comes to like that effort as part of her growth, though.

-After she grows up a little, is the nicest friend you could ever meet. Would give you the shirt off her back, unless she already gave it to someone else, in which case she'll go buy you one. Even if you didn't ask her. Even if you'd rather she didn't. She doesn’t expect anything in return, she just likes helping. It’s what magical girls do! Even if sometimes her ideas of helpful are off the mark.

-Tends to jump into things without thinking. Whether this makes her brave or stupid is your call. You know things have gotten bad when even Nicole is showing hesitation and concern.

-Has a bit of a rave girl aesthetic. Isn't involved in drugs or anything, but she likes going to raves and wearing bright colors. (Her friends don't let her go out to party alone, though. Love her dearly, but they don't trust her recklessness. She'd be way too easy to take advantage of...)

-Her main specialty is in elemental magic, particularly water and ice. Kind of okay at defensive/strength enhancing spells. Crap at healing.

-Pan, and poly in a sense. Romantically monogamous, but doesn't mind physical intimacy with friends, including sex. Wouldn't sleep with a stranger, but could end up with some friends with benefits. Wouldn't mind the same from her partner. As long as everyone's clear on the expectations. Intimacy is good! Love is good! She loves her friends! Why not make them feel good?

-Her skin tone was kind of... ambiguously brown? I never fully settled on an ethnicity for her. My initial instinct is Latina, but given how loud and obnoxious she can be... don't want to fall into stereotypes. Need to think about this one.

-Short little chubber. I used to have an idea where she'd lose weight from her strenuous magical training... but, you know what, fuck that, actually, Nicole's a chubber and always will be

Alice:

-Very different from Nicole. Quiet, hesitant, wants to fade into the background. This is difficult when you're tall and big-chested.

-I purposely tried to design her as a "conventional beauty" - long legs, large chest, long blonde hair, thin... but frankly, she hates it. Dressed very conservatively. Long skirts or pants; thick, high-cut sweaters in a desperate attempt to hide her chest. No case of "and then one day she learned to embrace how very beautiful she was and everyone loved her". No. She'd rather people notice literally anything else about her besides her chest. She didn't ask for the stupid thing...

-Very kind in her own way; is the sort of person who will talk gently to you and listen if that's what you need. She’s a good person to be around if you need someone who seems safe and not intimidating. But on the other hand, if you're loud and brash like a certain someone, she has very little patience. She's easily overwhelmed around obnoxious people, and can very quickly become sarcastic in that case. She didn't so much befriend Nicole; rather, Nicole latched onto her one day and wouldn't leave, constantly yapping at her during lunch and walks home and such, then they ended up on the same magical team and bonded that way. She eventually reaches a point where she'd do anything for Nicole, but at the start, she's more likely to just want to... not kill her, she's pacifistic. But go far, far away from her.

-So much of a pacifist that there's no capacity for combative magic at all in her aura. She can't control the elements like Nicole can; it's just not possible. She's one hell of a healer, though. This makes training her very frustrating for Ven, since he has no idea how healing works. They may need to ask someone else...

-Vegan. Not high and mighty about it, just doesn't like the taste of meat or dairy, so she doesn't eat it.

-Loves reading, especially mystery novels. (Nicole takes this as her cue to get Alice into mystery anime. It actually works.) Anything that involves logical puzzle solving, Alice is into. She's the planner and thinker while Nicole rushes at things. However, this does mean she's generally hesitant to act - nothing would get done without Nicole as the doer.

-Rejected the call to be a magical girl initially. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with the whole mess. But after her parents were kidnapped and killed for Sura's experiments, she felt she had no choice. Ven uses his natural charm (and probably some magical trickery) to convince people that he's Alice's adult brother who'd been living abroad, but came back upon the death of his parents to pay his final respects and to raise Alice. He's moving back into Alice's childhood home so that Alice doesn't have to move halfway across the planet and disrupt her studies and friendships.

-Being on the same team as Ven and Nicole soon becomes frustrating for her. The two of them have so much in common - similar magical specialties, an affinity for socializing, "doer" type personalities... they don't seem to be taking this seriously at all, and Alice feels left out. Ven doesn't even seem to believe they'll ever have to do anything major; let the Council take care of that stuff, he's just here to mess around and because Nicole seems to enjoy learning. Of course they can afford not to take this seriously, they haven't lost someone... one of Sura's minions manages to use Alice's frustrations to manipulate her and turn her against them for some time. It takes them a while to realize this new dark magical girl is Alice, but once they find out, they do eventually snap her out of it.

-Panromantic in the sense that she'll date someone if she really, really likes them, but not too worried about it and wouldn't mind being single forever. She'd rather be single than date someone who isn't perfect for her. Asexual. Not sex-repulsed, but finds it very boring. Might perform some very vanilla acts if her romantic partner really wanted her to, but honestly, that's just time she could be using to read a book or wash dishes or something. Their happiness during the act is nice, but that's all she can get out of it.

#Irk blubbers about nothing

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doomsteady · 7 years

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Look Again - ch3 (Final)

bi!John/ace!Sherlock, Friends to Lovers. Explicit. Will be posted on AO3 (will edit with link later)

There it was: The final proof.

Sherlock’s irises were slim bands of silver around the expanse of his pupils. He was waiting, breath held, as if John held the answer to the most important question in the world.

“Do you see?”

All John could do was nod.

Relief washed over Sherlock’s face, and that clever mouth and tongue returned to continue playing their dazzling symphony between John’s teeth. His mind was reeling, barely able to keep up with what was happening between them. He still wasn’t sure he fully understood, but one thing was plain to see: Sherlock wanted this every bit as much as he did.

What exactly he was getting from the experience, John didn’t know. The comfort of another body, perhaps. Feeling safe to be this open with someone, to touch him and explore him in ways that would otherwise be forbidden. Feeding the hunger of Sherlock’s mind, rather than his body.

But the way Sherlock was touching him, kissing him— there was a physical hunger there, too. Needy little noises spilled from both their throats, hearts pounding and lungs gasping for air. But even as he pressed close, their hips grinding together against the wall of his room, Sherlock remained modest and soft between his legs.

“You like kissing,” John murmured against Sherlock’s swollen lips. “Heavy kissing. It’s a sexual thing, for me, this. But how does it feel for you? What do you get from it?”

“Closeness,” he replied, breaking the kiss to rest their foreheads together. Affection wrote itself in the lines of his eyes, the upward tilt of his mouth. “It makes me feel warm inside, and glad.”

“Glad?”

He hummed, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “To be able to express how much I adore you, and see the answer in your eyes,”—John felt as a slender hand snaked down between them, brushing against the rigid length of him—”and feel the fullness of it, here.”

Sherlock’s fingers took hold of him through his jeans, stroking slowly. John could do nothing but sigh and drape his arms over Sherlock’s shoulders, powerless under his ministrations. Sherlock bent low to nuzzle at John’s neck again, finding that sweet spot just beneath his ear that made him shudder and clutch fistfuls Sherlock’s shirt.

“I see you’ve already learnt—ah—one thing to use against me,” John managed, pressing himself into the warmth of Sherlock’s palm. The deep chuckle by his ear was satisfying in ways that made little sense for mere sound. The smooth baritone rumbled through him on an express journey straight to his cock.

But one thing bothered him still. It was all well and good that Sherlock wanted to do these things for him, to touch him, pleasure him as a lover should— but John also yearned to feel Sherlock’s burning skin beneath his fingertips. Would he even want to be touched; to be as close as they were now, only lying in bed, skin to skin?

Or would such a thing repulse him?

He felt a tugging at his jeans then, the zipper sliding open, and Sherlock moved to delve beneath the waistband of his pants towards the centre of John’s aching need. It took a great deal of willpower to catch Sherlock’s wrist, stopping it before his hand could find its prize.

“Wait,” John said, “before this goes any further, I have to know something.”

“Anything.” He pressed a tender kiss along John’s jaw. So patient.

“Can I… touch you? Not in that way, just…”

“Yes,” he said. “Please. Anywhere. Everywhere.” He smiled at the look of gratitude that must have stole across John’s features. “Just remember what I said before, about the discomfort. You may touch, hold, feel any part of me you like. I only ask that you don’t aim to stimulate. Is that alright with you?”

“God, yes,” John breathed. “Thank you. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

He let go of Sherlock’s wrist then, his breath catching in his throat when those long, slim fingers curled around his cock. Their lips glided together again as John fumbled at Sherlock’s shirt buttons, hell-bent on getting his hands on the lean, muscular torso beneath.

The fabric fell from his shoulders, bunching around his elbows and exposing his broad chest. Tentatively, John’s hands traced over the firm mounds of his pecs, stroking along his heated skin, feeling the muscles jump and twitch underneath. John grinned into their kiss.

“You’re ticklish,” he chuckled, feeling a stab of deviousness when Sherlock glared at him.

“Permission can be revoked at any time, you know,” he warned. “I wouldn’t push your luck if I were you. Not if you want this to continue.” He gestured below with a nod.

John was sure he meant it, too, so he wrapped his arms loosely around Sherlock’s thin waist, careful not to tickle him there, and pressed his mouth to the firm margin of his sternum. Sherlock’s fist worked in a slow rhythm, testing him with varying pressure, unsure and inexperienced. But it didn’t take him long at all to learn where and how John liked it most.

Soon John was like jelly in his hands, shaking with pleasure, and he thought that Sherlock meant to get him off like this, held up against the wall. Gasping, he mouthed at Sherlock’s skin; a light scrape of teeth, before sealing his lips and sucking red marks along his collarbone.

His knees were growing weak. Sherlock seemed to sense he was drawing close and withdrew his hand from John’s pants. Ignoring John’s whine of protest, Sherlock took his wrists and pulled him away from the wall. “Come over here. Sit,” he said, turning them both around and pushing John down onto the edge of the bed. “And take off your clothes,” he added, before sliding his crumpled shirt off the rest of the way.

Too far gone to argue, John obeyed, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of Sherlock unclothing himself. The shirt fell to the floor, and John couldn’t help but admire the sight of him as he divested of his own plaid button-down. Sherlock’s pale body was perfectly toned— not an ounce of fat on him. If not for the muscle mass, he would probably look gaunt. Instead he appeared sleek, powerful, like a jungle cat. Muscles flexed and tensed beneath his skin with the twisting of his frame. John drank in the sight of him.

“Hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you are dangerously sexy. You know that? You’re a bloody panther, Sherlock Holmes. God, what you do to me.”

Sherlock’s mouth quirked into a sheepish smile and his eyes flicked down, showing off for a moment the dark fans of his eyelashes. “Thank you. And I don’t mind at all. I love to hear it, coming from you.”

His hands went to his fly next, unbuttoning, keeping his dark eyes on John all the while. His touch was light and unhurried; it wasn’t as though he was putting on a deliberate show of undressing, nor was it entirely chaste, but John could see the awareness of his audience in each careful motion. This wasn’t a man getting changed for bed in the privacy of his own room. Perhaps he understood that John would want to appreciate this, savour every moment as Sherlock revealed himself for the first time.

He was right, of course. He was always right, especially when it came to matters concerning John.

John matched him as he undressed, article for article. When nothing but his pants remained, Sherlock hooked his thumbs under the waistband, preparing to pull down. John thought he saw a moment of hesitation there. Their eyes met, and he couldn’t be sure if he caught a hint of self-consciousness in that expression, briefly, before it was hidden behind a mask of confidence.

Now that the moment had arrived, was he having second thoughts? John wanted there to be no regrets. If Sherlock wasn’t ready for this, he wouldn’t push him to it. It was better to be safe than sorry.

“Are you sure you feel comfortable with this? You don’t have to. I’ll be just as happy—”

“John,” he scolded, “I’m a grown man. If I’m not comfortable doing something, I’ll say so. Now shut up and take off your boxers. That’s an order, Captain.”

He giggled at that. “Yes sir,” he answered with a mock salute. He slid out of his underwear, tossing them unceremoniously aside.

Without pause, Sherlock followed, and John leaned back on his elbows to let his gaze roam lower, licking his lips appreciatively. Between the lightly furred thighs, Sherlock’s genitals hung in repose, clean and neatly groomed. He was uncircumcised, the head of his penis hidden within the folded silk of his unblemished foreskin.

Being a doctor — and a bisexual, to boot — John had seen his fair share of cock and balls. As such things went, he found Sherlock’s to be on the prettier side. The member seemed average in length, though it was impossible to tell for sure unless he was to somehow get an erection. It was slightly darker than the rest of his complexion, but not visually striking.

It suited him. It was an odd thought, but John could imagine him walking around the house like this, completely naked, and he would look as prim and as elegant as he did in any of his tailored suits.

Though, it did feel a bit strange being the only person in the room with a raging erection, now standing rigid and blushing in the open. Sherlock was eyeing it with obvious interest.

Now who’s the self-conscious one, he thought wryly.

Ever the mind-reader, Sherlock’s arms circled his neck and urged him to lie down, carrying Sherlock onto the bed and down on top of him. John’s heart skipped when their members brushed together briefly, before Sherlock shifted himself to a more comfortable position and laid himself flat.

It was ridiculous to think this wasn’t the first time Sherlock’s body had laid heavy and warm on top of him. Only now, both of them naked in John’s room and not a thug or a rope in sight, it was for a much more deliberate purpose.

“You have a gorgeous cock, John,” he murmured between languid kisses. Laughter bubbled up from John’s chest; that was unexpected. He’d had compliments in the past, but he couldn’t recall anybody calling it ‘gorgeous’ before. John himself was slightly above average in both length and girth, and if anything, he’d feared the sight of him fully erect might be a little intimidating.

But there was nothing but sincerity in that youthful face. John’s hands found their way to stroking up and down his back, tracing the hills and valleys of his muscles, dipping beneath the harsh corners of his shoulder blades, all the way down to the ridges of his slender hips and over the plump round globes of his arse. He gave them a gentle squeeze.

John’s cock was trapped between them, twitching insistently and leaving a patch of wet against their stomachs where the head was leaking tiny beads of pre-come. But Sherlock didn’t seem to mind it. His stomach muscles rolled in a wave, and John moaned into his mouth.

“God, you are amazing, Sherlock. You know that?”

“I know,” he beamed, soaking up the praise. “What would you like me to do?” he asked. “Everyone has their preferences. I must admit to having limited experience, but I have been told my mouth is my greatest asset, in all sorts of situations.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He tried to ignore the rumble of jealousy at the thought of Sherlock being like this for anybody else. His relationship history was a mystery to John. Had he even been in love before?

He almost hoped that was the case; the alternatives for his experience were either experimentation — which, knowing Sherlock’s haphazard ways, would have undoubtedly been risky, not to mention unpleasant for him — or as an exchange, a payment to his dealers during those dark times in his life where his addictions had taken hold.

He couldn’t stand the thought of Sherlock forcing himself to perform ‘favours’ in exchange for drugs. It must have been clouding his expression, because Sherlock sat up then, kneeling over him. His fingers traced lazy patterns over John’s abs.

“It was in university,” he said. “I thought I was in love. Turns out, he was just using me. But for a while it made me happy, and so few things did, back then. So I did everything he asked, to keep him close, because I was terrified of letting it end.”

John stroked his hands up and down Sherlock’s thighs. “What a prat. I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”

He shifted his shoulders and flashed a quick smile. “I haven’t thought about it in ages. On the plus side, I did pick up a few tricks, and the experience taught me a few things about myself. Back then, I didn’t really understand my preferences— or lack of them. I knew I was gay, romantically speaking, but people always seemed to expect a sexual relationship out of their partners.

I found that I enjoyed those acts with someone I truly cared about, even if I didn’t receive physical pleasure from it. But I could never be someone’s casual boyfriend. It’s all or nothing, with me.”

“Lucky me, then,” said John, drawing out a more genuine smile from Sherlock’s angular face, one that made his eyes shine from beneath his dark lashes.

“Yes, lucky you,” he said, bending down to plant a soft kiss on John’s stomach. He trailed more kisses down, shifting back on his knees until his face was hovering above John’s solid erection. “Especially considering that I do rather enjoy sucking cock.”

Before John could prepare himself for it, Sherlock’s tongue flicked out to lick a broad, hot stripe from root to tip. It painted the underside of his cock in saliva that warmed beneath his breath. John threw his head back and gripped the sheets, his moan unexpectedly loud in the room. He gave a brief thought to whether Mrs Hudson was home, but Sherlock didn’t give him time to properly process it before he did it again, his tongue shimmying on its way up, applying extra pressure at his frenulum and sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine.

“Oh fuck, Sherlock—” he gasped, but his words dissolved as Sherlock’s wet lips sealed over the head of his cock. His tongue slithered over the slit, licking away the salty liquid even as more started to emerge. John squeezed his eyes shut, trying in vain to catch the embarrassing noises he was making before they could escape his throat.

“Don’t do that,” he heard Sherlock say. “I want to hear you.”

His answer was loud when he started to sink into the heat of Sherlock’s mouth, feeling those cupid-bow lips stretching wide around his girth. His hands found their own way into Sherlock’s dark curls, stroking through his hair and taking great efforts not to pull at it. He could feel Sherlock’s tongue pressing him up to slide against his palate, and when he pulled back, it flicked back and forth while his cheeks hollowed in suction.

He took John slowly, each time enveloping another inch of him, until John could feel himself encountering the back of his throat. He expected Sherlock to gag, but there was only the mildest fluttering and the cool rushing of air as he breathed through his nose. On the next pass, John almost lost it when Sherlock sank all the way down, blocking off his own airway and taking him deeper than he had any right to be inside another human.

Sherlock was deep-throating him.

Sherlock Holmes. Was deep-throating. Him.

He couldn’t believe it. Clearly, when he’d claimed to be ‘good with his mouth’ John had severely underestimated his meaning. As his cockhead pressed into the tight restriction of his throat, Sherlock attempted to swallow around him. John cried out, seeing stars behind his eyelids, his legs twitching and his fingers spasming between Sherlock’s curls. After a few incredible seconds, Sherlock came up for air.

This was quite possibly the best blow job John had ever experienced, and his orgasm suddenly felt very, very close as he sunk all the way back into that impossible space again.

“Sher—Sherlock. Fuck, that’s incredible,” he gasped, his heart pounding in his ears. His cock throbbed almost painfully hard between those lips, constricted by strong muscles as he was alternately being squeezed and sucked. Stealing a glance down at where Sherlock knelt over him, he could see the sheen of sweat forming over his brow, those dark eyes closed in careful concentration. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

Sherlock’s fingers gripped his hips like a vice, keeping them steady, something he was glad for; the urge to thrust up into him was beyond his ability to control. “I’m close,” he warned, barely able to form the sounds between dragging heaving lungfuls of air. His balls drew up tight and he felt himself thickening, wedged deep inside Sherlock’s long throat. “If you —nng— if you don’t stop, I’m—”

For a dangerous moment, Sherlock didn’t let up. John was right on the edge when he finally withdrew, slipping off the spit-soaked head with an obscene smack. His face was flushed and he was breathing hard, but his eyes were pools of black delight when he smirked up at John, wiping errant dribbles of saliva from his chin with the back of his hand. The debauched sight of him alone almost had John coming there and then.

Eager to keep John riding the crest of his orgasm, Sherlock quickly started pumping him with his fist as he clambered back up towards eye-level. His hair was wild and his skin gleamed with sweat, but John was in no better state. He was a wreck; breathless and whimpering, unable even to properly move his lips as Sherlock snaked his tongue between them, tasting of salt and John’s own heady arousal.

“Not that I have any qualms about finishing you that way,” he purred, watching John’s twitching features as he steadily jerked him, “but it was a bit dark last time I found myself here. I want to see you this time.” His fist slipped easily over John’s cock thanks to the generous coating of saliva, the sound of wet skin-over-skin friction competing for volume with the mutual sounds of their breathing into each other’s mouths.

“Next time,” he promised, dropping his voice to a low rumble, “I want you to come down my throat.”

It was glorious. He’d never heard Sherlock say something so filthy, and that’s all it took to tip him over the edge. The air left him in a rush as his orgasm thundered through him. His cock shot milky ropes of ejaculate between them, coating Sherlock’s stomach above him, spilling over his hand and dripping down onto John’s skin. He might have cried out in pleasure, but he couldn’t hear it. His vision tunnelled out, every nerve sparked into life as wave after wave of bright, electric pleasure scrambled his brain and compelled every muscle in his body to clench, and clench, and clench.

All the while, Sherlock’s sharp eyes fixated on him, wide-eyed and enthralled by the powerful reaction he’d wrought out of the body beneath him. His fist, still wrapped around John’s relaxing member, massaged him through the remnant aftershocks. After what felt like an eternity, John went boneless beneath him.

He hadn’t even realised he’d closed his eyes, until he felt a pair of soft lips against the tip of his nose and a gravelly voice floating over him.

“Did you fall asleep? I wouldn’t be surprised; that looked fairly satisfying.”

When John looked up, Sherlock looked pleased as punch. He had settled beside him on the bed, half-laying on John with his arm draped over John’s chest and their legs entwined. John tugged him down to share a lazy kiss.

“I haven’t come like that in… in…” He let out a deep sigh, barely able to muster the energy to form a coherent sentence. His lids felt heavy. He really could fall asleep like this, in Sherlock’s arms, except there was the slightly inconvenient matter of the mess drying over his stomach to deal with.

He made a move to haul himself upright, but Sherlock stopped him with a finger to John’s lips. “Stay there. I’ll grab something.”

He disappeared through the frosted glass door to the bathroom, emerging a minute later with a damp flannel. He cleaned John with such careful attention, making sure to get every last bit, and looked no less pleased to be doing this than he did at any other point during their lovemaking.

John’s heart swelled with affection for him. He didn’t understand how he could be this lucky.

He had woken that morning fully convinced of his decision to leave. With his feelings in turmoil, there was no way he could live here any longer. It had seemed that, not only did Sherlock not want to be anything other than his friend, but even if he did, John saw no way they could be together in the way both of them would have wanted.

He hadn’t actually met anybody asexual before. He knew of it, of course, but textbook definitions were far from an adequate primer when faced with all the complexities and nuance of a real life example.

He had assumed sex would be totally out of the question. After all, he’d recalled his own reactions so many times after masturbating to porn on the Internet. There was always a stark difference in his appreciation for the material before his orgasm, and directly after it; to put it lightly, some of the things he enjoyed in the heat of the moment could turn his stomach after the fact.

So he had imagined an asexual’s experience of sex to be like a permanent state of the latter. Sherlock had shocked him by not only being open to the idea of pleasing him in that way, but having undeniable enthusiasm for it.

Indeed, the man was positively glowing, as if he’d been the one to have just had the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life. To look at them both, John doubts anybody would have been able to tell the difference.

Sherlock finished up and tossed the flannel towards the bathroom door. When he looked back at John, he cracked up. “Good God, John. You look utterly exhausted.”

“I think you broke me,” John mumbled. Sherlock’s voice sounded rough at the edges. He reached up to stroke his fingers gently along his stubbly jaw. “That didn’t hurt, did it? Sounds like it’ll be sore.”

“Worth it though,” Sherlock said with a coy grin. “It’s not bad. People deliberately do far worse to themselves in the pursuit of satisfying sex.”

“Hmm,” John hummed. “Like anal,” he offered, without really thinking about it. Sherlock, bless him, looked mildly alarmed at the idea.

“Yes, well… As long as you never ask for that, we should have no problems. But everything else is good. More than good, in fact.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve never actually tried it, and not sure I see the appeal in doing so,” he said. “Seems a bit… destructive, physiologically speaking. It’s enough of a worry knowing most of us end up incontinent in our old age. Seems a lot of people are in a hurry to get there far sooner.”

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. John laughed. And just like that, they were back to their old selves, conversation spiralling into weird tangents about sex and the bizarre things people do about it. But now there was another layer to their relationship. A deeper truth to it. They had unlocked the door, solved the case, found the final piece of the puzzle that completed them both.

They showered, got dressed, and John popped downstairs to Speedy’s to pick them up some breakfast. When he came back into the living room, Sherlock was putting on an unfamiliar coat.

“Off somewhere?” John said. “Brought you a sandwich. Ham and pickle.”

Sherlock made a pleased noise. “Leave it in the fridge. We need to go shopping.”

“Oh?” John called from the kitchen. When he returned a moment later, Sherlock was waiting for him by the door. John followed him downstairs. It didn’t matter where they were going, after all; he would always follow, anywhere Sherlock lead him.

“Well for one, I need a new Belstaff, after those cretins stole mine last night. And also…” He glanced thoughtfully over John’s shoulder, a sly smile tugging the corner of his mouth up. “Actually, I think I’ll keep that a surprise.”

Sherlock opened the front door to the sounds of London’s busy weekday morning. He took John’s hand as they stepped out onto the street, and perhaps the most predictable thing about Sherlock, John thought, was that he always managed to surprise him.

(Fin. Thank you for reading!)

#sherlock #asexual #bisexual #friends to lovers #fanfic #ao3 #look again #johnlock #doom's projects

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