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daincrediblegg · 4 years

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As Time Goes By (1/2)

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Co-worker!Reader Word Count: 1803

Author’s Note: Lmao so I’m deadass 3 days late with this, but I got inspired for it literally on New Years Eve, and it’s been running away from me ever since (mostly ‘cause I actually came down with a pretty bad infection, and now I’m apparently allergic to the antibiotic the doctors gave me for it. It’s not been fun the last few days). Here it is now in its final form (split into 2 parts for my own sanity and yours), and with it, I thank you all for coming in at the butt end of 2019 and playing a big part in saving my ass. All your fanfic, all your art and acceptance of mass mutual love for this boy, and whether you’ve reblogged and liked or commented on my art or what little writing I’ve done or even my dumbass tag meta, I’m incredibly humbled and screaming about it literally all the time, and I love you all. Hope to talk to more of you in 2020 to keep the clown love going strong, and I’ll see you all very soon for part 2 ;)

Arthur hadn’t really believed it when he’d been invited.

In his 33 years of life he had hardly ever been invited to anything. Birthdays, Christmas parties, dinners, drinks. If he had been offered any of these occasions, he’d often be forced to turn them down. He could justify to himself that he’d hate to leave his mother alone on any given holiday (let alone any day, with how poor her health was), but deep down, he felt the gesture empty. If he went, he’d be no more than he already was- an invisible man. Nobody to talk to, nobody to really celebrate with despite festivity cascading all around him. All because nobody really wanted the freak there anyway. Why go to all the trouble when he could be far more comfortable at home alone instead?

But when Gary had approached him one sunny Gotham winter morning as he was buttoning his golden vest, and said that the rest of the guys were planning to go to a bar on Nolan and 3rd to celebrate the New Year, he actually thought about going.

He was sweet to do so. Always nice to him. He’s sure the other guys wouldn’t think to extend such a courtesy to him, let alone want to. He knew what they thought of him, and frankly he didn’t think too highly of spending more time with them either. He was ready to make his usual excuse- that meds needed to be picked up, that his mother needed tending.

But it was four little words that Gary had said- soft enough and potent enough to make him reconsider.

“She’ll be there too.”

His eyes find her almost immediately, and Gary’s eyes follow- by the vanity, where she tugs down her wig to cover her hair- bright red spun yarn, dressed in a pair of braids. Her fluffy underskirt poking out a brilliant white under her blue polka-dot dress as she leans closer to the mirror.

She’s lovely. Always has been. In and out of makeup. Always wishing him a good day, laughing at his jokes. She even asks for them- on days when she drags her feet up that long staircase, tired eyes hoping all the more that whatever he has for her will do the trick that he loves best- a smile, no matter how soft, and a chuckle, whether it leaves her chest or not. Anything is enough for him.

He knows he’s going, deep down. He knows it surely as his heart starts thudding against his fragile ribs just a little harder as she smoothes her hands down her plush skirt.

“I-... I’ll think about it.” he concludes softly.

“All right. I hope you will. It’d be good to see you there, mate.”

They share smiles- genuine ones, before Gary gets back to his locker, dragging out his own jacket and wig. Just then, he sees a flash of pastel blue flutter past him, and his eyes flit up to her face, full of warmth as she waves a gentle goodbye to him.

“Have a good day, Artie.”

Chills shoot up his spine in a rush. A hit of joy. An impossible wish, but one spoken true all the same. He wonders if there’s invisible cherubs behind him, stabbing him with arrows.

Arthur lifts his hand, wiggling his fingers weakly as he smiles back at her.

“Have a good day…” he repeats.

Her smile gets wider before she turns her attention to the dwarf next to him.

“You too Gary.”

“And you!” he shouts after her, as she finally picks up her bag and trots down the stairs. He knows his eyes aren’t the only ones on her when she leaves, but he hopes that his eyes are more important than most.

“How come she never tells me to have a good day?” Randall quips with a shrug. Gary rolls his eyes as he turns to him in reply.

“Maybe because you’re an arse-hole.”

He laughs at that. Neither the laugh he pushes out of himself for courtesy, or the ones that force themselves out and choke him. He laughs for real, and he knows he’s going.

He has to.

His mom is nodding off, thank God.

She’s been fed, and they’ve watched a bit of the Live Gotham New Years Celebration coverage on TV- Murray Franklin, hosting- from her bed. The lights are out, save for the soft blue glow of her TV, and it’s just enough of a sleeping potion to start putting her under. She always gets like this, in truth. Out cold long before the night really has a chance to even begin. It’s a blessing, really. Especially tonight.

Because it gives him plenty of time to get ready.

Sure, he doesn’t have much of a choice in what suit he wears- the only one he owns being a deep maroon, a hand-me-down from the last decade. He can’t decide how to style his hair (though he’s bathed, he’s at least managed that much, for her), whether to slick it back or keep it casual, all he has in the way of cologne is something cheap he got from the drug store on his way home from work the day Gary invited him, but he’s got the spirit. For Her. And it seems that today, it’s enough.

He gathers the necessaries from the closet before he leaves his mother to sleep, switching the tv in the living room onto the special while he prepares, dabbing the cologne to his wrists and neck, wiggling his spindly legs into his suit pants on the couch.

Just then, as he’s buttoning up his fly, the brief commercial break ends with a quick jazz sting from the band- moved all the way downtown just for this occasion. He watches as the comedian approaches a couple. Arm in arm in the snow and smiling like they’ve won the lottery. Murray quips of how happy they are, about his own relatively new wife and how it won’t last- all in good humor. But he can’t register any of it.

All he registers is the way the woman’s hands move around that man’s waist. He feels it himself. On him. Faint. A warm hand wrapping around him, just under his jacket, grazing over the deep blue sweater he’d dragged on this morning to go to therapy, fitting so neatly in the space between his hips and his ribs. It’s uncanny. It feels just like her.

And for just a moment the couple on the screen is gone. Replaced by another, far more handsome than the last.

Him and her. Together. Happier than the thousands of handmade smiles they paint on themselves with rich pigments in cheap grease. Hers is particularly divine. Her cheeks rosy as they lift fully to accommodate her joy. It makes his heart want to break his bones, leap right out of his chest, into the palm of her hand of its own accord.

And they remained that way. For hours. Gotham’s imposing buildings shrinking beneath the way they look at each other, hold each other close and not just for the inevitable warmth her body brings to his. And at the stroke of midnight, he pulls her impossibly close, cupping her face when he kisses her, the cold air melting away under their shared warmth as confetti falls around them with the snow. They even get on the kiss cam.

Gotham sweethearts. And everyone knows it.

He smiles, as the saxophone slowly pulls him out of reverie. The chilling blue light of the tv washes over him, and his hand pulls itself agonizingly from the spot it found across his abdomen, feeling his rib sticking out in his laid-back position. Murray, bundled up in scarf and woolen coat, speaks loud and clear into his microphone over a cheering crowd, ever the professional.

“Well folks, this is it! Not much more than an hour left until the New Year! Pour some Champagne, and get your sweethearts close, and we’ll be right back after these messages.”

Panic washes over him so fast he almost tumbles over the coffee table trying to get up off the couch.

He’s late.

Quicker and more lithe than a cat high on their nip, he tugs his sweater off, buttoning up his clean white dress shirt as fast as he can- praying he didn’t skip any buttons, or that he improperly tied his tie.

“Happy? Where are you going?” a sleepy lilt calls from behind him.

He almost yelps, but before he can he turns to see his mother, leaning against the hallway, looking like she could pass out again right then and there. Leaving his waistcoat not fully buttoned, pulling his suit jacket on, he strides over to her and supports her sleepy form, starting to try and lead her back to bed.

“I’m meeting some guys from work for a drink.” A half-lie, as they reach the bedroom door. Enough to not make her question why he’s dressed to the nines and the strong and heady scent coming off of him - discount eros from a bottle. She hums a little “oh”, mulling over what she should say in response. He doesn’t give her the chance.

“I’m sorry Mom, I forgot to tell you.” Another half-lie, but it completes a full truth for her, letting him keep the solitary thought of her all to himself, even for a little while longer.

A look of unnecessary worry strikes across Penny’s face.

“You shouldn’t drink, Happy. It could mess with your pills. And you know I don’t like you being out this late.”

He winces at that. Guilt hitting him like needles prodding his veins. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to hurt. That she doesn’t trust him to leave and make it back in one piece. That she doesn’t trust him to know himself.

That she doesn’t trust him.

But she can’t dissuade him now.

They reach the door to her room, and they both slink in. He lets go of her once he’s sure she can make it the rest of the way to her side of the bed by herself, and swipes up his old hoodie draped over the corner that isn’t hers.

“I’ll be home by next year, I promise.” He purses his lips with a playfully disarming smile for her. She gives him a breathy chuckle of acceptance, and sits back on her bed again, pulling up the covers as she does.

“All right, Happy. Be careful.”

He nods, tugging the hoodie over his suit- trying not to wrinkle the sleeves as best he can.

“I will, Ma.”

He blows a kiss, and before she even has the chance to give him one back, he’s picked up his wallet and keys, and he’s out the door, locking it behind him.

#arthur fleck x reader #joker x reader #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck imagine #lmao part 2 is juicy and will come out when I'm not chaining benadryl to get rid of the nasty hives I've got now #might even be a smutty part 3 but only if people want it.#I love my fluff but I certainly wouldn't be opposed #joker 2019 #joker imagine #also lmao pls my dms and inbox are always open please come talk I'm just really bad at initiating shit #'cause I'm just a shitty anxious baby #my writing #fanfiction

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carlisle980 · 4 years

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Just Dance

It’s still Bangtan Day here in the US, and I did something I never imagined I’d do. I wrote Bangtan fic. I haven’t posted it anywhere, because ff.net is where the bulk of my work is but there’s no Bangtan archive there, and while I do all my reading on AO3, I haven’t posted there in years. I can, if the consensus is that it’s a good idea.

Anyway ... here it is. Apologies to the usual crowd. Well, more like, sorry ... not sorry. I love all my old faves. And BTS too.

+++++++

Hey, dance with me dance with me Any kind of bounce is fine, dance with me Where are you from, why are you dancing A natural conversation, say something —J-Hope, “Trivia: Just Dance”

She stands in the center of the cold grey floor feeling small and overwhelmed and old. The studio looks the same as it did twenty years ago, when she spent eight hours a week here. In this very space. Learning. Her horizons expanding. Experiencing a world that made her heart pound with expectation. The sky seemed the limit then.

It smells the same. That combination of sweat and disinfectant with a hint of central air conditioning that she’ll forever associate with this room, with this craft. She couldn’t believe her luck when the question of using the space was as easily answered as it had been half her life ago. Now, as then, all she had to do was ask the director. Is there a chance I might use the studio sometime, when there are no classes and the company doesn’t need it?

It was easy to come by, but that doesn’t mean she can have the space indeterminately, she reminds herself. There’s no grand objective to her being here; she just wants to see if there’s still the same pull. The fascination, the exhilaration. Why, precisely, is a question she cannot answer.

She’s thinking too much, and that won’t do. She plugs her phone into the studio’s sound system and turns on a playlist she works out to at home. It’s high-energy, if eclectic. Avicii is on there. OneRepublic, Maroon 5. “Rhythm Nation” by Janet Jackson and a bunch of vintage Art of Noise. Those are there because they were part of her teacher’s playlist back in the day. Her German-born teacher, a former student of Gus Giordano; a geologist-turned-dancer whom she idolized to the extreme. Sigh. Those were the days.

Knowing it isn’t wise to just start dancing cold, she tries to remember how they used to warm up in class. What a dumb thing not to recall, given that she was advanced by the time she stopped. School loans and weddings don’t pay for themselves, after all, and once she had her degree she could no longer justify the indulgence. Putting off adulthood to linger at the college and take dance classes, to no particular end. So she’d got herself a big girl job out in the real world. One with a salary and health insurance and, in time, a corner office with windows and a door they let her shut so she could concentrate. Pretty sweet gig for a twenty-year-old. Sweet enough that she and her husband had bought their first home —in the overpriced Baltimore-Washington metropolitan area of the early 2000’s, no less— when she was 24. Sweet enough that by the time she left to have their first child, she was making enough that she could’ve bought a Mercedes. If, you know, that had been her priority over becoming a mother.

In the absence of any grand recollection, she sidles up to the barre and starts with the basics. Plié, relevé, plié with a push through to relevé. Relevé down into plié. Coupé, frappé, dégagé, rond de jambe. She puts a leg up on the barre and leans sideways towards it: first one, then the other. Wiggles her shoulders a little, rolls out her lats on the foam roller. Back flexibility is a tough thing but she’s working hard. It’s better than it’s ever been, and compared to other people that’s not saying much, but for her it’s the hallmark of progress.

That’s warm enough, right? You’re really not supposed to stretch before dancing. Cold muscle is shorter and more likely to tear, and all that. The music continues to play and she progresses to chaîné turns. This is where she begins to get frustrated. It’s the same story as it was all those years ago: she can turn to her left well enough (though spotting still doesn’t work the way it should, as evidenced by the room spinning when she stops), but turning to the right is an exercise in futility. She under-rotates and falls out of the turn and no matter how slow she goes, it doesn’t improve. It’s the same with fouettés. Pirouettes in the center go a little better, but she only lands a double once or twice out of several dozen attempts. She practices those turns from modern class that her teacher never had a name for and always referred to by sound effects, like the sound you’d make if you were suddenly punched in the stomach because that’s the mechanism: a core contraction into a spin, propelled by gravity. There was a lot of that, dancing under Lena. Sounds and gestures filling in where words failed. Those turns are still her favorite; they look pretty without the dancer having to do much besides knowing when to work with gravity and when to resist it. That’s why modern was always her preferred style: it doesn’t take a perfect body to finesse the principles of contract and release, of fall and recover.

Little by little she begins to pull things from memory: a crazy penché-drop-spin from advanced modern class that was easy when she was nineteen and is significantly less so now; bits of the Ailey-inspired choreography they learned one semester. She is struck out of the blue by the same desire that characterized her girlhood. Whenever she would encounter a large swath of open floor, her first instinct was always to leap across it. But she knows that one doesn’t simply grand jeté indiscriminately when one has not done so for the better part of two decades. Despite Kathryn Morgan’s advice to just sling the front leg out there and go for it, she holds back. She’s already come back from a groin tear once; never again, thank you very much!

The music decides for her what will happen next when it begins playing “Black Swan.” She hauls herself to the center of the floor in what she imagines is a comedic fashion and gets herself into position.

From there it just flows. She feels it, the struggle of which Martha Graham spoke; the one that inspired the song. It’s all too real for her.

A dancer dies twice; once when they stop dancing, and this first death is the more painful.

She’s danced this piece a thousand times in the privacy of her bedroom, and she nails every count, trying to make it expansive, to fill the vastness of the studio.

Killing me now, killing me now. She has felt that. The despair, the slow death of a precious part of her soul when she’d given up her dream in favor of security. She doesn’t speak Korean —not yet, anyhow— but she’s taken every syllable to heart, knows what each one means.

Sinking slowly like in a trance nah, nah, nah Struggle but it's all ocean floor nah, nah Every moment becomes eternity yeah, yeah, yeah Film it now, film it now Do you hear me, yeah

She’s breathing hard by the end. Tears are streaming down her face and she hadn’t even been aware she was crying. Oh, my God, what was that? That was … like a religious experience. Why did I ever give this up? Why did I let go of me?

It’s as she’s wiping the tears away with the back of her hand, taking gulps from her water bottle like she’s spent the last year in the desert, that she becomes aware she is not alone.

Her head snaps around sharply when someone clears their throat and she gasps. There, seated on the bench above the cubbies where students stash their bags, is none other than the Jung Hoseok. He is barefoot, sitting with his legs criss crossed, in an orange t-shirt and blue shorts, pushing a hand through his dark hair like she’s seen him do countless times on YouTube.

Surely, she’s dreaming. Because she has dreamt of situations like this, both literally and metaphorically. Many times. But in dreams, be they the daytime variety or at night, she never sees him blink, or hears him breathing. But nothing about this makes sense. What is Jung Hoseok of BTS, arguably the world’s busiest man, who cannot walk to get coffee in Seoul without being mobbed by stampeding multitudes, doing here? In the States, on the campus of a community college, and, by all appearances, alone?

Even if he is real, it isn’t as if she can ask him. She knows his English is getting better and better as time goes by and BTS’ influence in the West continues to balloon. But where he can speak a bit of her language, she only knows random words in his.

Still. They’re staring at one another now, and she feels incredibly rude. He can’t be a dream, because he’s infinitely more beautiful in real life than even the best photographs have made him out to be. All angular, with impossibly long lashes, and yes, there’s that adorable mole just above his top lip.

“You’re very good,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence, and isn’t that just characteristic of him? “Dance was … wow.” His accent is heavy but his meaning is clear. And oh, that smile. He really is the sunshine incarnate.

She wants to brush off the compliment, to explain to him that maybe she was good, once upon a time, but now she’s just somebody’s mom. But she doubts it would be easy for him to understand. She wrinkles her nose, shakes her head almost imperceptibly. “I …” she stammers. She’s talking to Jung Freaking Hoseok —WHAT?! “First time really dancing in many years.”

He smiles again. “Really good,” he repeats, nodding his head for emphasis. “Serious.”

She’s not sure whether he’s saying that she looked serious while dancing, or that he’s serious about her doing well, but either way. If anyone knows the inner workings of the “Black Swan” choreography, the sentiment behind it, it is this man.

“Thank you,” she says softly, her cheeks hot. “I love Black Swan.”

There’s so much she wants to ask him. Why are you here? Are you traveling alone? Are there security guards outside the door ready to handcuff me to a lamppost? Because I asked the program director if I could use the studio and she said yes! But the language barrier would make it impossible, and anyway, isn’t there some saying about not looking a gift horse in the mouth? She hasn’t taught that one to her kids, but she’s pretty sure her grandmother said it to her at some point.

He smiles once again in response to what she said about “Black Swan” and makes a short humming sound in the back of his throat. “I’m Hoseok,” he says in perfect English. “Hobi.”

She almost laughs aloud. As if there was any possibility she wouldn’t know who he was. But then, hasn’t that been one of the things she’s loved best about him from the start: his humility.

So she introduces herself, and he bows from his seat and tries out her name. It’s adorable. And now she knows the answer to one of those questions she just figured she’d ponder for eternity: her name falling from his lips sounds like angels singing.

“Dance with me?” he asks as he rises from his seat and holds out his hand to her.

If this is a dream, please don’t wake me up.

‘You don’t understand,’ she almost says. ‘You’re … you, and I’m old. I don’t pop and lock, unless you wanna talk about my hip joints when I try grand battement. I don’t b-boy. Modern’s all I’ve got.’ But how many times has she said it: My dream is to dance with Hobi for a day. What kind of absolute idiot would she be to pass up an opportunity like this?

So she says, “I would love to.” And means it more than she’s meant anything since she said ‘I do,’ as a twenty-year-old kid. Nineteen years, two houses, three children, countless ups and downs later, and look how that turned out. Sometimes good things just happen.

She was already warm, but since he isn’t, she stretches when he does, and now it’s safe to stretch hip flexors and hamstrings and they definitely need it. He watches her a little. She watches him a lot. Sometimes he copies what she’s doing, as if there’s anything she could possibly know that he doesn’t. He does these crazy boneless things, dropping to his knees and seemingly floating back up to stand, and she just shakes her head. It looks even more effortless —and even more impossible— in person.

She whips out the chaîné turns again. Her good side, of course. She can fake spotting well enough to make it from one corner to the opposite pretty quickly.

“Oh!” he exclaims. “Like Jimin!”

She giggles. “I wish!” she says, and watches as his expression turns to a question mark.

“Wish?” he asks.

How to explain? “My style?” It comes out as a question because she wants to be sure he can follow.

He nods, so she continues.

“My style, like Jimin’s style. But Jimin … WOW. Me? Just okay.” She makes the hand gesture that means ‘so-so,’ because some things are universal, right?

He laughs, shaking his head. “Aish! No, no, no. Not ‘just okay.’ Very strong. Very …” He thinks for a moment, and there’s another question answered. Pensive Hobi is breathtaking. “Very … grace?”

She is floored. “Graceful?” she asks. He nods emphatically. “Me?”

“Yes, yes, yes! Arms.” He gesticulates wildly with his own. Which, she knows, he would do even in the absence of a language barrier. “Pretty.”

How can she tell him she’s not built like a dancer, that that knowledge has always made her feel heavy and ungainly? That she’s always wanted to be tall and delicate, like him. “My back.” She gestures behind herself. “My spine?” BTS have a song called “Spine Breaker,” even if they call it something else, so maybe it’s a word he knows.

He nods again, echoing, “Spine.”

She reaches into her bag for a pen and paper and draws a likeness of her spine, double curves and all. “Not straight,” she explains, handing the sketch to him. “Makes dancing hard.” It affects everything. I can’t turn properly; I have no extension. My hips are a mess. Every time I lift my leg it clicks.

“Hurts?” His eyes are soft, his expression sympathetic.

“Yeah,” she answers. “Yeah, sometimes. But dance makes it better.” Ironic, right?

“Keep going,” he says with finality. Insistent. Like he’s solved every mystery of her life.

Perhaps he has. He’s only been witness to a half hour out of her entire existence, but in that short time he’s seen a side of her that few others have. He’s watched her dancing, smiling, throwing herself full-force into something she loves. Maybe she never got to perform. Maybe she gave up on training to become a dance teacher. But if dancing makes her feel this level of satisfaction, how can she afford not to give it a prominent place in her life?

She studies him for a long moment. Does she dare ask anything of him? She answers that question with another: will she ever have an opportunity like this one again?

“Hobi?” she ventures timidly. He nods. “Teach me?”

“Yeah!” He says it like it’s a forgone conclusion.

“DNA?” She’s never been able to work that one out on her own.

He grins in answer.

They spend the next hour speaking the universal language of dancer and choreographer. “Pah! Pah! Pah!” “Five, six, seven, eight!” She gets on the wrong foot a time or two, turns and collides with him once, all of it to gales of laughter from the pair of them. He corrects her body position and he’s hands-on but ever the consummate gentleman, and by the time they stop she knows the entire choreography well enough that she can perfect the rest at home.

All too soon it’s over. “I have to go,” she explains sadly, pointing to the schedule on the director’s office door. It’s printed in English, but he gets the gist. There’s a class coming in soon; her time is up.

They sling their dance bags over their shoulders at the same time and it results in another shared laugh.

“Hobi,” she says at the door, “thank you.” There’s so much more she wants to tell him. As long as I live, I’ll never forget this. You’re my favorite dancer. You’re a legend.

“Don’t stop,” he tells her in a tone of voice that brooks no argument, squeezing her hands in both of his own. “Always dance, friend.”

When she performs “DNA” with the company the following semester, she dedicates it to him.

#ejb writes #uncharted territory #fanfic #bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan boys #hobi centric #jhope #j-hope #hoseok #jung hoseok #dance fic #just dance #jimin is mentioned #hobi is my love #what can i say #bangtan day

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shes-soparticular · 5 years

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What Happens in Bali...

There are certain announcements you just shouldn’t make on April Fools day.

A/N: Fluff. Very light mention of smutty happenings.

Words: 4033

It was only half past three in the afternoon and Alex had already had one hell of a day.

For starters, she’d woken up late only to trip over Shawn’s guitar case on her way out of the bedroom. A stubbed toe wasn’t enough to ruin her day but instead it was her husband she cursed under her breath as she grasped the handle of the guitar case. How many times had she begged him to stop dropping his shit in the most inconvenient places? There was an entire room in their home devoted to his guitars so why in the world did he insist on leaving it outside of the bedroom door where she was bound to stumble over it? Frustrated, she’d picked up the case to move it to its rightful place just for the lid to fall open and Shawn’s favorite guitar to spill to the ground. It smacked the ground with a loud thud, the neck broken off at a right angle, narrowly holding on by the strings. “No no no no…” She whimpered to herself, kneeling down to scoop up the broken instrument. As she immediately pictured herself packing a bag and driving off into the sunset to avoid admitting she busted his most prized possession, Shawn rounded the corner.

“Honey, where’s the-” He stopped dead in his tracks the second his eyes fell on the guitar, his jaw going slack. “Oh god, what did you do?”

Her panicked eyes met his as she scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry, it was an accident! You left it right in the doorway, I tried to move it and I don’t think you even latched the case shut…” Alex chewed on her lip, carefully picking up the neck of the guitar with shaky hands. “Maybe we can put it back together?”

Rubbing his jaw with his face turned towards the ceiling, he stood in silence, seemingly trying to filter whatever it was he wanted to say. After a long pause, a deep and frustrated sigh escaped him. “It’s one of a kind, custom made. The one Mayer gave me. It can’t be fixed or replaced.” The disappointment in his voice ate away at her, as much as she wanted to remind him it really wasn’t her fault to begin with. No matter who was to blame, something incredibly meaningful to him was irreparably damaged and her heart broke for him.

Letting the pieces drop gently back to the ground, Alex rose to her feet and pulled Shawn’s hands into hers. A more sincere apology was working its way to her lips when she felt a small hand on her calf. Glancing down, her gaze was met by little brown curls and doe eyes that matched her own. “Good morning, Matty.” Reaching down to pick up their two-year-old son before he could touch any jagged pieces of splintered wood, she notices his eyes focused on Shawn. Almost looking for…reassurance? Shawn mouthed something back to the toddler, although Alex couldn’t quite make it out.

“Apwil Foos, Mama.” Matty’s sleepy voice finally announced, his head still on a swivel between Alex and Shawn. For a minute, she was totally lost trying to interpret toddlerese. That is until the deep frown on Shawn’s face stretched into a devious grin, his fist reaching out to Matty for one of their father/son fist bumps. It’s then that it dawned on her…it’s April 1st. How in the world did she not see straight through this ruse? She was literally on her way to the kitchen to cover cherry tomatoes in chocolate as her own April Fool’s joke. She should have immediately guessed that this whole broken guitar act was her husband’s way of beating her to the punch. Putting her palm on one of Matty’s ears and leaning his head into her shoulder to cover the other one, she narrowed her eyes at Shawn. “You asshole,” She hissed, quiet but sharp. “That was so mean! I was freaking out!” Seeing the all too pleased look on his face didn’t help matters and it took all of her energy not to give him a swift kick in the shin. Looking back down at the pieces again, it now occurred to her how cheap and flimsy the wood looked and how light it had been in her hands. That little shit had a cheap replica made just to send her on a guilt spiral.

“The look on your face? Priceless.” Shawn didn’t even try to hold back his laughter, which only got his little shadow started too. Matty always wanted to be in on every joke, even though he rarely understood what was happening. It was next to impossible for Alex to stay angry while surrounded by the laughter of her boys, but she wasn’t going to let Shawn get away with it so easily.

“Laugh it up,” She raised her eyebrows and shot him a frosty grin, pushing Matty into his arms. “I’ll get my revenge. Just wait.” Their prank wars had only escalated over the years and April Fool’s Day was the ultimate challenge considering they were usually each on high alert. Last year, she’d convinced him that he’d leaked naked photos of her which culminated in him trying to schedule an emergency conference call with his entire team at five in the morning. Two years ago, he’d fooled her with what turned out to be a fake (and incredibly unflattering) tattoo of her face on his back. Point being, she would never have had her guard down had it not been first thing in the morning before she’d fully cleared the sleep from her eyes.

“Oh, you mean those tomatoes you hid in the back of the fridge?” The look on Shawn’s face couldn’t have been more smug. “You’re going to have to try harder than that. I don’t think you’re going to get me this year.” Hoisting Matty to sit on one of his shoulders, he glanced up at his giggling son. “You’ve made your Mom lose her edge, buddy. She used to be so good at pranks, now your Dad is the master. If you’re lucky, I’ll teach you the art of deception.”

“You absolutely will not teach our child how to deceive us.” Alex rolled her eyes, hard, watching nervously as Matty leaned a little too far backwards on Shawn’s shoulder. Thankfully, Shawn had this eerie sixth Dad sense where he always managed to catch Matty by the shirt or an ankle before he totally wiped out. This time it was an ankle, Matty laughing his head off as he hung backwards over Shawn’s shoulder. It took a minute or two for Alex’s heart to start beating again (did a toddler really need to be 6+ feet off the ground??) and she reached out to peel her son off of his father and bring him back into the safety of her arms. “Consider that, Shawn. He’ll be sixteen and joyriding in your car before you know it and it’s not going to be my fault.”

Shawn contemplated this, knowing his wife had a really, really good point. Matty had an endless supply of energy and it probably wasn’t the best idea to teach him how to use it to mess with them. He’d likely do enough of that on his own. “Fair enough. Sorry, bud.” Engulfing his little family in his arms, he planted a kiss on each forehead. “Happy April Fool’s Day, good luck getting me back.”

This earned yet another eyeroll from Alex, but her head was already swimming with ideas for vengeance. Could she have his car towed while he was at the studio that afternoon? No, too obvious. Convince him her parents were fighting and her Mom was coming to stay with them indefinitely? No, too frightening. Was he right about her losing her edge? Had she lost her special touch at taunting and tormenting her husband? No way, she’d come up with something. She had to. “Just give me a real kiss and clean up this dumb guitar before I send the real one off the balcony.”

His eyebrows shot up at her threat, but they both knew it was completely empty. “You would never.” Leaning in, he brushed his lips against hers teasingly, still withholding the kiss she’d demanded. “You love me too much.” This was true, he had her there.

“Maybe so, but all is fair in love, war, and April Fools.” She grumbled back, using her free hand to wrap in the hair at the back of his head, pulling him all the way in for her morning kiss.

Alex had spent the better part of the morning running errands, hoping for divine inspiration to strike her when she least expected it. So far? No luck. Taking Matty into the grocery store probably wasn’t the best idea, considering it took every ounce of her mental strength. Making it through the supermarket with Matty was as close as she would ever get to playing an extreme sport. Whether it was scooping him up seconds before he’d pulled out the bottom box of a display of goldfish crackers or wrangling him off of the top shelf he’d managed to climb up in the cereal aisle, she was pretty sure she could cancel her gym membership and create her own CrossFit style fitness program based entirely on chasing toddlers around public places. A woman with two small children passed by her, one crying about the flavor of jam they’d picked and the other swiping an entire shelf of toothpaste into the cart as she shared a knowing look with the frazzled mother. The tight but soft smile they shared was the equivalent of throwing a Mom gang sign to show their support for one another. As they passed out of view, Alex stared down at Matty. “I think you’re going to be an only child, sir.” She wasn’t sure if it was the smug look that he shot her (and god damn, why did he have to look just like his Dad?) or the fact that she was passing a wall of pregnancy tests, but the thought hit her like a ton of bricks. Bali. Fucking Bali.

When she insisted over and over that she didn’t want anything for her birthday other than to go out for brunch and whatever trinket Matty could make her out of dried macaroni, that hadn’t satisfied Shawn. But Alex just wasn’t the materialistic type, not to toot her own horn or anything. She’d just never been a big fan of jewelry, she was the queen of thrifting and had a penchant for vintage clothing versus whatever Hermès or Saint Laurent was peddling, and other than her phone, what electronics did she really need? Travel, though, that was her Achilles heel. She could never say no to a trip, would bend over backwards if it meant making an adventure happen. Of course, Shawn was well aware of this weakness. Thus, what she thought was a ride to her birthday brunch was really a ride to drop Matty off with Shawn’s parents before catching a flight. To Bali. The number one destination on her bucket list.

Being that it was a last minute, spur of the moment trip, she hadn’t put a lot of thought into packing her bag. In fact, Shawn’s exact words had been, “Yyou have thirty minutes to pack before we leave for the airport, sorry.” Thus, there were several things she’d forgotten. One, her cell phone charger. No big deal, she’d use Shawn’s. Two, sneakers suitable for hiking. Not a problem, she could pick up a pair when they got to Ubud. Three, her birth control. Yeah, that one was an issue. It wasn’t like this was just a trip to LA where she could pop into any CVS pharmacy and grab an emergency supply of her super specific birth control prescription. It was a ten-day trip. To Indonesia. And it wasn’t like she was going to just…not have birthday sex with her husband in one of the most beautiful villas she’d ever seen in the most breathtaking place she’d ever been.

They had mutually agreed to wait another couple of years before giving Matty a sibling. Shawn had an impending tour starting later that year and neither of them could imagine trying to manage two little ones on the road. Ever since Matty was born, they’d decided that he and Alex would travel along with Shawn whenever possible. It wasn’t always realistic and it was rarely easy, but it kept them together and that was all that mattered. Before they’d even decided to try for Matty, they’d swore to one another they’d give him as fulfilling of a childhood as they could. To them, fulfilling meant creating memories for Matty he could look back on fondly later, shared with both of his parents and surrounded by love. So no, it wouldn’t be a normal childhood by any definition. Matty’s first steps had been on a moving tour bus. His first word had been in Spanish while they were at a café in Buenos Aires. He’d already seen more of the world in his short two years than most people saw in a lifetime. But Alex wouldn’t have it any other way. Yes, it was difficult to calm a teething baby in a different hotel room every night or to find something akin to Cheerios in a foreign country when that’s the only thing Matty would eat. Yes, there were nights that she wanted nothing more than to tuck Matty into his own bed rather than a green room pack and play. However, those things paled in comparison to her son getting to see his Dad every day. To be there to catch him after those first steps. To spin him around in celebration after that first word. To make him laugh, to wipe his tears, to just simply be there. All of that being said, it wasn’t impossible to do with one child. But adding another to that mix? It just wasn’t something Alex was ready to do.

Yet that didn’t stop her from letting Shawn push her up against the shower wall in Bali, thrusting into her as the warm water cascaded over their joined bodies. She’d mentioned to him after unpacking that she’d forgotten to pack the pill and maybe they should pick up some condoms. It was one of those suggestions they both nodded over with no intention of actually accomplishing. And within twenty minutes, there they were having risky shower sex with reckless abandon. After that, their shared mindset was that the damage was done and they might as well enjoy their trip unencumbered. It wasn’t like Matty happened the FIRST time they had completely unprotected sex, so the chances that a ten-day vacation would totally derail their two-year plan didn’t seem likely.

But now, as she sits on the edge of the tub waiting for not one, not two, but three pregnancy tests to reveal their results, Alex can’t help but feel incredibly foolish over their tropical fueled heedlessness. Deep in her thoughts as Matty sits on the floor in front of her, ramming a toy firetruck into her ankles and driving it up and down her calves, she lets out a long sigh. Bali Alex™ really hadn’t had future Alex in mind when she insisted on having sex on every surface of that villa, sans goalie. The simultaneous sounds of the front door creaking open, Matty’s feet scurrying out of the bathroom, and her cell phone alarm blaring to announce the moment of truth yank her out of her thoughts and bring her back to reality. A reality where there were a total of six pink lines in front of her. Well…she does love adventure, doesn’t she?

There’s no sense in making a big production out of it, so she simply marches out into the kitchen with all three positive tests clenched in her hand. Matty is already there, perched on the kitchen counter eating what appears to be rocky road ice cream. She grimaces at the sight, knowing the sugar rush to come considering she’d already caved and given him gummy worms at the supermarket. “I come bearing ice cream for Matty and wine for Mommy, since I’ve been feeling incredibly guilty all day.” Shawn holds up her favorite bottle of red, two glasses already waiting on the counter.

“Hold that thought, oh, maybe for the next eight months.” Alex sidles up to the counter, grabbing one of Shawn’s hands so that should could place all three tests into his palm. “Three of a kind, Mendes.” The look on his face as he stares down into his palm quickly changes from confusion to shock and then…amusement? He hands the tests right back to her, shaking his head in the process.

“Whoa, you’re pulling out the big guns, eh?” Now the look of confusion transfers to her face. “Not gonna work, Alex.” What? It’s not like she expects him to pick her up and spin her around or anything (okay, maybe she does), but this really isn’t the reaction she’d expected. What the hell was he even talking about? And then, for the second time that day, it hits her. April Fools Day.

“Wait…you think this is an April Fools joke?” Her eyes nearly double in size, an incredulous laugh leaving her chest. “This is the absolute worst thing you can joke about on April Fools, I would never.” She truly wouldn’t. There were certain topics that were just off limits when it came to pranks and this was possibly the biggest one. Yes, she could be ruthless when she wanted to be, but she’d never cross this line.

“That’s what you want me to think.” Shaw’s guard is still up, eyes raking over her to pick up any sign that points to her lying. He knows her tells. The way she always looks up through her eyelashes. The way she always drops one hip, trying to look calm and collected. He can read her like a book. But right now…she must be putting on the performance of a lifetime. Because the tone of her voice sounds a little too earnest, the look in her eyes a little too disconcerted. He’s ready to cave, about to pull her into his arms, until the memory of the prior April 1st fills his head. The one where her voice had been quaking and her skin burning red as she showed him risqué photos of her he had supposedly leaked. He remembers how quickly that quake turned into a belly laugh and how she’d done a victory lap around their bedroom declaring herself winner of April Fools. Nope. She must be desperate to one up his prank and she was just going to the greatest length she could. “You waited for it to become socially unacceptable and THEN you strike. Classic Alex, you almost got me.”

“Okay, so how did I fake these positive pregnancy tests then? You think I’m out running around stealing pee from pregnant ladies?” She’d folded her arms against her chest, eyebrows raised to challenge him.

“I don’t know, you can probably buy fake ones on the internet or something.” He finds this completely plausible, shoulders shrugging as he steals a bite of ice cream from Matty’s dish. If he could get a cheap replica guitar made with ease, why couldn’t she figure out how to fake a pregnancy test? “Wait, does this go all the way back to Bali? Were you already setting me up then?” The scoff this earns from her feels like it further proves his suspicion. To him, it seems as though she’s laying it on too thick.

“You are going to feel so stupid when this kid shoots out,” Alex laughs softly to herself, reaching up to brush non-existent salt off of his shoulder. “And I’m never going to let you forget it.”

It’s still dark when she wakes to his fingers running softly down the skin of her back. As her eyes slowly flutter open, she sees the red numbers on the alarm clock reading 12:01am. She knows exactly why he’s still up and why he’s tugging her from sleep. “Mmm, you just been laying awake waiting for the clock to strike midnight?” At the sound of her voice, his hand snakes around her waist to pull her backwards against him, her bare skin pressing against his.

“Yes.” He momentarily buries his face in her hair, taking in her scent, waiting with bated breath to hear what she’s ultimately going to say. To see which direction their lives are about to go. “This isn’t a prank, is it?” His fingers ghost across her flat stomach, tracing circles and shapes that give her goosebumps.

“What are you hoping to hear?” She shifts on to her back so that they can lock eyes, the mixture of fear and excitement reflecting between them. But the fact that the excitement outweighs the fear calms the endless train of thoughts surging through her head.

“I’m hoping I was wrong.” His hand stills, as he takes in every detail he can. The freckle under her right eye, the curve of her hip, the way her chest rose and fell with every breath. She places a hand on top of his, threading their fingers together.

“As always, I’m happy to tell you that you were wrong.” A soft giggle floats from her but it’s quickly captured by his lips. Despite the fact that they’re wholly unprepared, despite the fact that this derails their plans, this kiss is filled with relief. Relief that they have one another to navigate life with, come what may.

When the need for air finally becomes too much, their lips part, foreheads resting against each other in quiet satisfaction. He brushes his thumb across her stomach once more, a smile spreading across his face. “Our Bali baby.”

“We can’t call her that, we’d have to start calling Matty our “backseat of the Jeep baby” and I think he might resent that.” Yes, she’s boldly calling this baby her. She can’t say why, but she has a pretty good feeling about it.

“Backseat of the Jeep? No way, that’s not where Matty was made.” He rolls on to his back, pulling her half way on top of him. He knows it has to be too early and maybe it’s just the moonlight streaming through the window, but he swears she’s already glowing. “Bathroom of the AMA’s.”

“Oh, okay sure, that’s MUCH more poetic.” She swears her eyes are going to hurt from rolling so often in a twenty-four hour period. “We get one trip to ourselves and what do your dumbasses do? Make another baby.” She hides her face in his chest, but he can still feel that grin of hers.

“Happy Birthday?” It comes out as a chuckle as he reaches to pull her body up further so that her face hangs over his. “I mean, are we really that shocked? We knew this could happen, we did literally nothing to prevent it. I don’t want to speak for you, but I think we wanted to let this happen?” They weren’t the type of couple that sat down and made long lists weighing the pros and cons of every decision. They were more of an “I jump, you jump” couple that just took life as it came and went for the ride. So it wasn’t unnatural that this is how they’d end up adding to their family – by exploiting a mistake like forgotten birth control and silently letting fate take it’s course. Or maybe that was just an incredibly refined way of making an excuse for the fact that they were stubborn about wanting raw sex on vacation, no matter the consequence. Either way, everything would work out. They both knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

“I think maybe we did.” Alex admits, bumping her nose against his before stealing another kiss. Her teeth close teasingly against his bottom lip, pulling it lightly. “But really I just wanted to get rawed on vacation, let’s be honest.”

Tagging @fourtristattoos for Dad!Shawn week 🥰

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes imagine #smfsource #fourtristattoosspring

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franeridart · 5 years

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Hiya dude! Sorry if this ask is annoying, but I was wondering if I could make an oc with a similar quirk to Akane? I was considering making an oc that can control color, but if I do actually end up posting about them, I don't want to make a character that seems like a copycat. :')

Sure thing! I don’t own the concept of that power after all hahaha

Anon said:Will there be any of the KiriBaku kids on your red bubble? :) They’re so cute!! 💕💕

Why not!!! Just gotta draw something with them that’s actually worth uploading first 💕💕

Anon said:Your blog is so.... therapeutic??? I think I went through it at least four times by now. I'm absolutely in love with your drawing style and even better au ideas.

Anon said:akane would be dangerous with red paint bombs

Anon said: Akane could shoot or throw paint balls of red paint or even powder to cover things and villains and since the paint isn't alive she could control it.

Anon said:Pertaining to the question of blood, red blood cells live approximately 120 days. If she kept blood in a tube and waited until the cells are dead, can she control them? Is one of her tools going to be capsules of red dye that she can use to paint her enemies?

!!!!!!!! Many people have mentioned that and it makes me actually super happy because that was something I thought about too, for when she’ll be a hero! The paint should be fast dry though or else she’d end up just moving the paint off the things she threw it on hahaha also about the blood thing, yes she’d be able to control it but, I mean, why would she do that hahaha

Anon said:Do you have any ideas for an older Akane? I image that she would get into UA and that she would have the coolest hero costume! With different shades of red so that she could possibly use it for defense or mobility, and a cloak that could withstand attacks. I LOVE the idea of her having red knives and weapons that she can use for offense hidden under her cloak, probably attached to her pants. OH and also she could have a red chalk pallet on her thigh so she could color things so she could move em

I do have a bunch of ideas!!! But since she’s a kiddo in the AU all ideas don’t really matter all that much yet, so I’m totally up for everyone imagining it however they wish! And I like all of your ideas so so much!!!!!! Thank you for liking my kid enough to think this much about her!!!! 💖💖💖

Anon said:i love your new bakushima parents au thing with akane!!!! it's so freaking adorable!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!

Anon said:What is your sexuality?

I don’t mind saying, but why do you wanna know? :0

Anon said:Do you think if Akane was raised by her biological parents she could be somehow trained to use her quirk on living things? Like her morals and pure heart are what stop her from ever even thinking about doing something like that???? Sorry, idk I just tend to want sufficient angst when it comes to things I like, and I LIVE FOR AKANE!!! She could easily be a top hero and I LOVE to see more of her!! Thank you for creating her!!❤️❤️❤️

I’m gonna have to hold the answer to this question cause it’s actually gonna be the topic of a comic I mean to draw soon-ish >:]c

Anon said:That fire diamond Bakugou and Pearl Kirishima au is everything. Hope we'll get more of it in the future. I'm curious about what happened with kirishima :D

Aw anon, I’m so happy to know you liked those but I don’t think I’ll ever get back on that concept :( posting those ended up with a lot of unpleasant things happening so now they’re tied to unhappy things for me :(( sorry!

Anon said:aww Akane, give him a chance, maybe he can be your 2nd papa ^w^

>:]]]]] s o o n

Anon said:I give her like 5 years and she will like Kiri. Nobody can resist Kiri long.

>:]cccc sooner than that

haha

Anon said:u have only been drawing akane for a while and i 110% support it i love her so much

That!!!!!!! Makes me so happy!!!!!!!!! Thank you!!!!!!!!

Anon said:I'm in love with this new au help

😭😭😭😭😭😭 thank you so much!!!

Anon said:God I am loving this please don't stop with our little red babbbey I wanna know what happens next 💙💙😔👌💙💙

AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Anon said:I have known Akane for a day now but if something happened to her i would kill everyone in this website and then myself

You guys are gonna make me CRY FOR REAL!!!!!!! so much love thank you so so much!!!

Anon said:The way you draw bakugou is so amazing I can't even,,,z that undercut???? Beautiful. The way his treats little red???? Fantastic.

I’m GLAD you like the concept!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 💗💗💗💗💗💗

Anon said:I'm very sorry to say this but.... What if Bakugo had a quirk that when he says "DIE!" the first thing he sees after saying that explodes. And what he will do with it? Will Kiri still be with him?

...................anon I’m gonna be very honest with you that sounds like the most OP quirk ever omfg does the intensity of the explosion change based on how loud it is? If so it’s such a strong quirk it’s fantastic !!! and I don’t see why Kiri would have a problem with it tbh haha

Anon said:I know this may be weird or personal but, what's your race/where are you from?

I’m Italian! It’s actually written in my faq!!

Anon said:Hi, sorry to bother you but ... Can I please draw Akane, your OC, she is so precious ! I really like your work on her, her design is truly cute ... Obviously if I post it, I will give you credit ... ( Sorry for my broken english, it's not my mother tongue )

YES!!! Thank you so much for wishing to draw her!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:You definitely don't have to stop this au any time soon. I love so it so much :D As always, your art and stories are incredible

Anon said: There is no need to apologize for continuing with this new AU, it's your blog and you can post what you want. Plus, the idea is really cute and your drawings are great! I think any kind of post of any AU is great, so don't worry about it, we're thankful for what you do, no matter the AU

You guyssssss!!!!!!!!!!😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 thank you so much for enabling me!!!

Anon said:I fcking love kirishima's hair in your latest comic, that undercut with vibrant red hair Is everyhting

THANK YOU!! I’m glad you like it since it was entirely self-indulgent hahaha

Anon said:The phone case I bought from you recently arrived and I love it a lot! You're my absolute favorite artist and I check your tumblr everyday to see if you've posted. I was wondering if you'll be connecting Akane with the other krbk kids cause it's really interesting. Plus Ultra!

Thank you so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And no, she’s a separate AU! I was actually unsure in the beginning (which is why Baku has the same hair in both aus!) but after I asked it seemed like people would have preferred it to be a separate AU so that’s where it went!

Anon said:Did you start using a different brush for lineart?

If this is about the pencil tool, no! That’s not a lineart tool, it’s just a sketch one :D I use it when I don’t feel up for detailed work and wanna be fast about what I’m making~

Anon said:Did Bakugo adopted Akane or is kinda like a teacher to her?

At the very first he was just a temporary guardian, but after a while everyone grew attached and he decided to adopt her! :D

Anon said:Ah I just had that image in my head of Akane training with her quirk so hard she can style her hair with it like super quick, like, at first she'd do it in secret then call Baku over and show him how she can make it braid itself then just has to tie the end (it's a messy braid but he's so. so proud.) (Btw I don't mean for you to draw this, I just thought it was p sweet :0 )

That’s!!! such a cute image oh my god TT0TT and I actually have half an idea for a comic for something on this line!!! well, vaguely haha maybe soon! 💕💕💕

#fran answers #THANK U ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE YOU'RE SHOWING FOR AKANE I C R Y #anonymous

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bobbystompy · 4 years

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68 Quotes I Enjoyed From 2019

Below are my favorite quotes from 2019. Though most occurred throughout the year, some took place before but were encountered during.

1) “I don’t bitch about Millenials.

John Entwistle once complained that he didn’t understand rap. Pete Townsend said, ‘It’s not our job to understand it. It’s our job to get the fuck out of the way.’

New generations come of age. The older generation’s job is to shut up and adapt.” - @danagould

2) “I can’t do drugs with you until we kiss.”

3) “If you pay me $50 I'll show up to your funeral but stand really far away, holding a black umbrella regardless of the weather, so that people think you died with a dark and interesting secret.” - @DanaSchwartzzz

4) “A human being is a dangerous thing to let loose in a room with itself, when it cannot think.” - Roger Ebert

5) “There are no bad bourbons, only better bourbons.” - Dave Hernandez

6) “You can’t put a dollar in a kimono.”

7) “This is how it was.” - rampant takeaway from watching ‘Superbad’ several years after its release

8) “What if I had been born fifty years before you in a house on the street where you lived / Maybe I’d be outside as you passed on your bike / Would I know? / And in a wide sea of eyes, I see one pair that I recognize” - Ben Folds, ‘The Luckiest’

9) “Learn the rules so you can break them.”

10) “Nobody makes chili for two.” - Stacy Massey

11) “‘Best city in the world,’ I mutter to myself, as i adjust my ‘driving blanket’.” - Chicago resident Deanna Belos, during the 2019 Polar Vortex

12) “Dude, no one’s ever got arrested for listening to Counting Crows.” - Ricky O’Donnell, justifying late night music volume at his party

13) Bill Belichick: We’re going to have fun tonight. Rob Gronkowski: Yes we are. We deserve it. Belichick: You’re damn right. Gronk: I haven’t stepped out in like eight months. I gotta step out tonight. Belichick: I’m with you, man. I’m even going to step out. Gronk: Oh, I like it!

A Super Bowl winning exchange.

14) Center David Andrews thanked Bill Belichick for giving him "a shot".

Belichick disagreed with it.

Andrews: Thank you for giving me a shot. Belichick: A shot? I didn't give you shit. You earned it! I don't give anything.

Another Super Bowl winning exchange.

15) “We elected one of the very worst living human beings to be President, and it's exhausting. Each and every day, it's an exhausting slog, just to exist in a world where that's true.” - Michael Schur

16) “Some of y’all always picked Odd Job when you played Goldeneye and it shows” - @thedad

17) “Any app is a dating app if you try hard enough.” - Z.W. Martin (though he says it’s lifted)

18) "Once you're as woke as I am, you learn to feel bad all the time.”

19) “Everything’s a balance beam when you’re 90.” - John Dingell

20) [I wake up in a world where The Beatles never existed]

Me: Check out this song I just wrote

[I begin playing “Ob La Di Ob La Da” without having first built up years of goodwill]

Crowd of people: Wow, this sucks ass

-- @seanoneal

21) “People change people.” - Corey Matthews, Girl Meets World

22) “The easiest thing to do on earth is not write.” - William Goldman

23) “Dan could be like a difficult uncle. I didn’t love his fire-breathing conservative politics. I didn’t love the transformation that came over his novels. In Semi-Tough, he created two benighted Texas jocks and laid their prejudices bare. He was declaring himself a member of the Mark Twain coaching tree. In later books, Dan seemed to be trying to prove he could still tell a racist joke. He insisted that his memoir—the last truly immaculate piece of writing he delivered—include a tirade against political correctness. When his editor said people might be offended, Dan said, ‘Fuck people.’

There are certain writers whose style you pilfer. Certain writers whose moral fiber you try to inherit. For me, Dan represented a third category: a writer whose aura you replicate—or, failing that, try to stand in for a while.” - Bryan Curtis, on Dan Jenkins

24) “Never marry anything. Never choose. Even in love, it's better to be chosen.” - La Dolce Vita

25) “An uncluttered, uncomplicated happy ending might sound wonderful, but it’s hardly ever satisfying. Because the value of great stories lies in the tension between desire and need, between the yearning for the ideal, and the unshakable conviction that ideals don’t really exist, at least not the way we want them to. A great story should hurt a little when it leaves us. There should be some hope, but that hope should remain somewhere just an inch beyond our fingers, because that’s the truth. Even if you had all the perfect moments in the world, you’d still be reaching.” - Zach Handlen, on the Futurama series finale

26) “You can’t see him because he has sunglasses on.” - Alissa Levy

27) “The cinema is the greatest art form ever conceived for generating emotions in its audience. That's what it does best. (If you argue instead for dance or music, drama or painting, I will reply that the cinema incorporates all of these arts).” - Roger Ebert

28) “‘Are you gonna let politics ruin a friendship?’

Yes tf I am

People talk about politics as if it’s this isolated, abstract concept that only matters at election time. Somebody’s politics is their world view. It’s whether they think certain human beings deserve rights. It’s how they think the world should be. And if somebody thinks that the world should be colder, meaner, less accepting and downright hostile to people that are different to them, then sure as fuck is the friendship over.”

29) “Can the Supreme Court get me mushrooms?” - J-Papp

30) “Any song under two minutes already has a head start on its way into my heart. Just scream at me and then leave me.” - Drew Magary

31) “Long neck cold beers never broke my heart.” - Clemson Tom

32) “I’d just like to point out that the last spoken words of Game of Thrones were:

‘I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel.’”

- @Authoroux

33) “Just once before I die, I want to toss my keys to someone and tell them ‘Bring the car around’.” - Mike Skully

34) “For all the weight they're given, last words are usually as significant as first words.” - Grand Maester Pycelle, Game of Thrones

35) “The best remedy for unrequited love is a trip around the world.” - Cheers

36) [on switching from a hotel to a motel]

Manny: I don't like the sound of that. A lot of amenities disappear when an H turns into an M. Jay: Hey when I met you, you were eating cereal out of a bucket.

-- Modern Family

37) “You and Lindsey don’t want to be ‘estranged’. Estranged is the relationship we want to have with our mothers.” - MegFil

38) “Cigarettes are undefeated.”

39) “My toes are like my fingers on my feet. I can pick stuff up with them.” - Tracy Cunningham

40) “Republicans govern without shame, Democrats shame without governing.” - Bill Maher

41) Sam: I don’t understand the vagaries of the Internet Josiah: Post often, without thought, and you’ll either get cancelled or cancel someone else.

-- Blink-155

42) “Hang a lantern on your problems.”

43) “What a weird web we weave.” - The Situation, The Jersey Shore: Family Vacation

44) “Let the ocean worry about being blue.” - Alabama Shakes, ‘Hang Loose’

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45) “Honesty without tact is cruelty.” - Shelley Rokos

46) “My whole life is the wrong porn link.”

47) “One parent can take care of 10 kids, but 10 kids cannot take care of one parent.” - Joe Gestetner, via “an old Yiddish saying”

48) “There are no heroes in the room.” - Classics of Love, ‘Gun Show’

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49) “If I am a little dismissive, it's only because of my harrowing backstory.” - Mitchell, Modern Family (on why he doesn't like sports)

50) “Every time I’m wearing black, I meet a dog.” - Tracy Cunningham

51) “Shower sex? Why would I fuck in my crying chamber” - @chridollarsign

52) “My theory about quarterbacks, having written about some of them, is you either have to believe in god or think you are a god.” - Mina Kimes

53) “The contradictions of capitalism always manifest in our lyrics if you look deeply.” - Blake Schwarzenbach of Jawbreaker, Riot Fest 2019

54) “Got a ‘hang loose’ from the weakside bartender.”

55) “It’s Jennifer’s birthday always.” - Eric Hutchinson

56) “I can’t think of a less relevant artist in 2019 than Kanye West. A Jesus freak in a MAGA hat. Yeah, congrats dude -- you’re every grandma who watches ‘Young Sheldon’ and mails checks to Joel Osteen now.” - Dan Ozzi

57) “The past and future are in the mind. I’m in the now.” - Tom Brady, via someone else

58) “Sometimes you walk around boring places and you feel like the most exciting thing in it.” - Drew Magary

59) “Sitting is the new smoking.” - Modern Family

60) “I'll straight up fight folks at a book club and discuss books at a fight club I really don't give a shit anymore.” - George Wallace

61) “Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.” - Rose Garvey via wine country

62) “It’s all ‘ok boomer’ until you need someone who can drive stick shift.” - @OrdinaryAlso

63) “He likes the result of the math.” - Dad, talking about my worst subject frustrating during the process but satisfying in the end

64) Stepmom: Do you want a Bears urn or Alabama urn? Dad: Ask me after they play Auburn.

65) “A cold body carries a warm heart.” - Stefanos Tsitsipas’ Instagram, after his Iceland sabbatical

66) [preparing a dish called the Sandwich of Justice with his friend’s recipe]

"The fun thing about it is when you give it to someone, you can say 'Justice is served.’ That's, uh, Ryan's line. I built my whole life on the backs of my friends." - You Suck At Cooking

67) “Usually three people can keep a secret only when two of them are dead.” - The Irishman

68) “An artist can't control who consumes their content any more than a chemist can control how their chemicals are used once they're created.” - Brian Crooks

3 notes · View notes

setaripendragon · 5 years

Text

The Light of a Pole Star - Part 3

Okay, this part was a lot of fun. The whole birthday scene came out of nowhere as I was writing, it was a complete aside that turned into an actually important plot point XD Also, Maes’s voice will always and forever sound like Opalsong’s reading of The Demon Alchemist series in my head.

“You know your boy is hopelessly in love with you, don’t you?”

“My- Are you talking about FullMetal?”

“Mmhm.”

“He’s fourteen.”

“Mm, I don’t think he is. Not really.”

“He really is.”

“Don’t be so literal, Roy, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I know what you mean, Madame, but it’s still- I can’t just ignore-”

“Ahh…! Is my baby boy falling in love, too?”

“What? No! That’s not-! He’s a child! I would never-!”

“Pfft. Of course you wouldn’t. I raised you better than that.”

“You did.”

“But he’s not going to be a child forever, Roy. He’s not even going to be a child for much longer.”

“…I know.”

“I’d let him work here in a couple of years. Maybe even one, given how world-weary he seems.”

“World-weary. That’s a good phrase for it. Speaking of, how’s Nina doing?”

“Oh, she’s as precocious as you were, Roy-Boy. She’s recovering well.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“I’ll have someone drop some pictures off with Maes for you.”

“Oh, good god, alright. I’m sure FullMetal will appreciate some as well.”

“Speaking of, I hear his fifteenth birthday isn’t too far off.”

“Mother…!”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Roy, I’m helping you out here.”

“How, exactly?”

“Have you thought about what to get him for his birthday?”

“If you’re about to suggest something salacious, let me cut you off now and say; don’t.”

“Heheh. Only a little salacious. He’s fifteen, I think he can handle a Vittori.”

“A- One of the Vittori reproductions? Really? Why on earth-?”

“Call it a hunch.”

The Hughes residence is packed to bursting. Ed feels distinctly uncomfortable, being at the center of all this attention and effort, but it’s also kind of nice. He isn’t super keen on the idea of celebrating his birthday. He has eight of them rattling around inside his skull, plus two namedays, and a soulday. This one in particular gets lost in amongst the others too easily for him to care very much. Still, Teacher’s visiting, and so is Winry, and a woman who introduced herself as Roy’s foster-sister has brought Nina round, and Roy’s whole team have come, and Gracia has made a freaking fantastic triple chocolate cake.

Al is sitting on the floor a few feet away from the couch where Ed is sitting, passing Elysia crayons for her colouring, and Nina had two slices of cake and is now chattering Winry’s ear off, and Hughes is taking pictures of everyone and everything like a maniac, and Roy’s sister is flirting with Havoc, which seems to be mortifying both Havoc and Roy, which is hilarious. And Teacher is chatting with Gracia and Riza over mugs of tea from her place in Sig’s lap.

It’s good, Ed decides. It’s just good to be surrounded by friends and family and to take one day off from the pressure of righting his wrongs and fixing his mistakes. He’ll get back to the quest to restore Al’s body tomorrow, but today, he has permission to relax a little. It’s good.

“Is it time for presents yet?” Nina asks abruptly, abandoning Winry to throw herself half over the back of the couch, feet in the air and tail wagging, which puts her head somewhere in the vicinity of Ed’s shoulder. “Big brother! You need to open all your presents!”

“Good idea, Nina!” Hughes enthuses, and then suddenly everyone is bustling about retrieving their gifts for him and depositing them on the table. A lot of them, Ed is delighted to see, are book-shaped. Then Hughes holds Elysia up so that she can very solemnly hand Ed the card she’d made for him. It’s covered in glue and glitter, and of course the glitter goes everywhere, and Winry winces when it gets on Ed’s automail, but even she can’t deny that it’s utterly adorable.

“Mine next!” Nina insists, so Ed opens up the clumsily wrapped package she thrusts at him. It turns out to be a hand-knitted scarf, which Ed suspects is the result of Roy’s Mum’s attempts to keep Nina occupied and out of trouble. It’s a little wonky and uneven, but it’s a bright, eye-searing red, and it was made with love, so Ed wraps it around his neck at once and preens. Winry gets him a set of automail maintenance tools, like she always does in a passive-aggressive attempt to remind him to take care of his automail, and Granny sent on a book titled Beginner’s Guide to Combustion Engines, because she thinks she’s hilarious, and only Teacher and Al really get why it pisses him off so much.

Teacher got him a proper Xerxesian kattari, which she must have made herself, and Ed freaks out for a moment, because what idiot decides to take up blacksmithing – even alchemically enhanced blacksmithing – when they’re sick? Sig shares a commiserating look with him when he hands over all the extra bits and pieces Ed needs to maintain the blade. And in keeping with the theme – had they collaborated? – Al got him a book about the few Xerxesian alchemists that history remembers with a handwritten note inside that says ‘you can tell me all the things they got wrong – love, Al’.

Hughes got him a photo album half filled with pictures of Ed and Al and the people they know, with space left over for more, and Gracia added a pile of blank journals to the gift, which Ed definitely appreciates. The rest of Roy’s team all got him various books; a massive scientific treatise from Falman, a recent alchemist’s autobiography from Fuery, a fascinating obscure book about spiritual symbology in alchemy from Hawkeye, a book about the art of making fireworks from Breda. Havoc, on the other hand, had got him a swear-jar. Which sends Ed into hysterics.

Then Roy’s sister – Vanessa – hands over a small, prettily-wrapped package, and Ed splutters a little about how she didn’t have to, he doesn’t even know her, what the hell. She just laughs at him. “I insist. Auntie Chris insisted. At least as a thank you for making Roy’s work stories so much more interesting.”

“Oh, well, um, okay then, I guess?” Ed says, and sets to opening the packet. It turns out to be a couple of pretty hair-clips. Nothing so ornate as to be mockingly ‘girly’, but whoever made them paid just as much attention to form as function. If he wears them day-to-day, he’s going to end up worrying about damaging them. Not that he ever does anything creative with his hair anyway, so it’s a bit moot.

Roy looks mortified, though, so that’s definitely a plus. And, in the spirit of winding him up as much as possible, Ed decides ‘fuck it’ and tugs the band off the end of his braid, shaking his hair out and tugging the top half back into the clip he likes the best. It’s a style he’d worn a lot when he was Proteus, one that Huang had always gotten distracted by when they were researching together. “Thanks!” He says brightly to Vanessa, who looks so gleeful Ed figures she’s caught on to his plot to torment Roy and approves.

“Alright, I suppose it’s my turn, is it?” Roy asks, resigned.

He slides a large square present out from where it had been leaning against the side-cabinet thing that Gracia keeps knick-knacks and Elysia’s toys in, and hands it to Ed over the table before stepping back. There’s an odd touch of apprehension about him, nothing obvious, just a stiffness in his pleasant expression that suggests it’s taking effort to keep it in place.

Ed lays the present on his lap and studies the shape of it. “It’s a picture-frame.” He decides after a moment of feeling the edges.

“The purpose of presents is to unwrap them, FullMetal.” Roy drawls.

“The purpose of giving presents is to shut up and be nice, Colonel Bastard.” Ed retorts, but he does tear into the wrapping paper, and peel the picture out of it. And then he freezes, heart racing and head spinning, because that- that’s him. Or well, technically, it’s her, when he was a her. He presses a hand to his mouth to stop himself blurting out something stupid, and just… stares.

It’s not the original, he can tell right away, but it’s an excellent reproduction. Ed-when-he-was-Lucia is sitting naked in an unmade – and very rumpled – bed dressed in off-white linens underneath a wide window letting in a spill of brilliant morning light that picks out the amber tones of Lucia’s tanned skin and the golden tones of her light brown hair, which is twisted up into a messy, careless bun pinned in place by a paintbrush, many loose strands curling about her neck and shoulders. There’s ink and graphite stains on her fingers and thighs, and love-bites dappled across her neck, chest, and wrists. She’s sitting sort of cross-legged, one knee tucked uselessly under the light sheet and the other propped up so that she can lean a notebook on it and scribble down her ideas.

Several people are asking what it is, and Havoc and Hughes and Hawkeye all shuffle around the back of the couch to peer at it over Ed’s shoulders. Havoc lets out an impressed wolf-whistle, while Hawkeye says, in a carefully neutral tone of Stern Disapproval; “That’s a bit inappropriate, isn’t it, sir?”

Which, no. No, Ed’s not going to let that stand, because it’s not. The moment hadn’t even been sexual, except that they had just had lazy morning sex. But then Ed- Lucia had had an idea, and she’d flung herself out of Fiametta’s arms to find something to write it down with. Only then had she realised that she’d just abandoned her new lover without regard in favour of science, and she’d looked up expecting annoyance and exasperation, only to find Fiametta grinning and looking at her like she was the most perfect thing in the whole world. So Lucia had gone back to bed and settled in to write down her notes, and she’d gotten so absorbed she hadn’t even noticed Fiametta going for her sketchbook, and then her paints, until several hours later.

At which point she’d taken one look at the first attempt, and punched her in the arm for ‘making me look ridiculous, you complete sap’. The consequent versions had only gotten more ridiculous, because Fiametta had decided it was her purpose in life to wind Lucia up like that at every available opportunity.

It’s not inappropriate at all, except for the fact that Roy has no idea what he’s saying with this picture because he doesn’t know. Ed looks up at Teacher, the only one who gets it, and she raises an eyebrow at him, smug. ‘He doesn’t know he knows, but he does know.’ Ed thinks, and it’s… Good is something of an understatement.

Roy is fumbling for an explanation under Hawkeye’s stern stare, trying to play it off as a combination tasteless joke and attempt at winding Ed up, but Ed isn’t listening. He carefully leans the paining against the back of the couch and gets up. Roy’s faux-blasé defence trails off as Ed rounds the table, walks right into him, and hugs him tight. He’s in civilian dress, so it’s actually comfortable to hug him, and as Roy’s body-heat soaks through to him, Ed silently mourns the fact that he can’t just stay like this forever. “Thanks. I love it.” He says quietly.

“…You’re welcome.” Roy replies, just as quietly, carefully setting his hands on Ed’s back, not quite returning the hug, but something close to it.

“Huh.” Hughes says, in his scheming-voice. “I didn’t know you were a fan of Vittori, Edward.” He remarks lightly.

Teacher snorts.

“You shut up.” Ed grumbles at her, pointing in her direction without looking. He forces himself to let go of Roy before the hug becomes awkward, and turns to Hughes to try and explain his overly-emotional reaction to an indecent portrait of a long dead Aerugonian alchemist. “She did a good series on alchemy.” He states, crossing his arms defensively and feeling his face heat up.

“Hey, it’s okay, Boss. You’re at that age where-” Havoc begins, his tone gleefully mocking because he’s obviously a sadistic fuck.

“No. Nope.” Ed sticks his fingers in his ears. “LALALALALA!”

Ed is minding his own business, grabbing a quick lunch at a bakery a few streets away from the library, when out of fucking nowhere, Hughes slides into the seat opposite him with a cheerful “Hi, Ed!” and the sort of smile that makes Ed realise why most people find his grins a little unnerving.

“Uh, hi, Hughes.” He greets warily.

“Oh, please, Maes is fine.” Hughes – Maes – insists. “This is a social call.”

Ed gives him a dubious look. “Well it looks kind of like stalking.” He counters, and then takes a huge bite of his pasty. Maybe if he finishes quickly he can escape back into the library.

“That’s hurtful, Ed.” Maes protests, sounding entirely insincere. Ed makes an indistinct ‘mrmph’ noise around his mouthful. “I just wanted to know what your intentions are towards my best friend.” He announces, and although he’s definitely joking, tone jovial and eyes bright, there’s a thread of something a little more serious underneath.

Ed swallows hard, coughs a little, and then starts laughing. Because trust Maes Hughes to see that there’s more to Ed than a fifteen year old with a crush. “Well, I guess my intentions right now are to wait until he won’t have a panic attack if I jump him, and then jump him. Repeatedly. Preferably for the rest of our lives.” He answers, just as light-hearted as Maes, with just as much truth underneath.

Maes’s smile becomes a lot less sharp, softens into something that doesn’t make Ed want to flee to the safety of the library anymore. “How long a wait is that going to be?” He wonders, without any hint as to what he thinks the right answer is.

“Well, I had it from a reliable source when I was twelve that I’d be eligible for moderately respectable sex work in five years, so that’s only two more to go.” Ed replies lightly. Maes blinks at him for a moment, which isn’t the reaction Ed was expecting, but then he laughs. Cackles, really. “What’s funny?” He asks dubiously.

“Madame Christmas told you that, did she?” Maes asks pointedly.

Ed stares at him. “You…” He stops, and wonders if the synchronicity of his lives could get any more ridiculous. “Wait, let me guess. She’s got something to do with Roy, doesn’t she? Oh, that fucker.” He exclaims, eyes widening. “That’s how he knew to get me that painting! She fucking told him, didn’t she? Oh my fucking-!”

“Mm, yes. I think it was one of hers, originally. She likes to hang what she calls ‘dignified pornography’ on the walls of her upstairs business.” Maes confirms.

Ed whines and puts his head down on the table. “Next you’ll be telling me Roy grew up there or some shit.” He complains.

“As a matter of fact, he did.” Maes confirms, sounding intrigued, and Ed just groans, because, okay, he walked right into that one. “When she’s not working, she goes by Chris Mustang.” Maes adds, and at that, Ed sits up again.

“She’s Roy’s mum?”

“Biologically? His aunt. But she raised him ever since his parents died. So, yes, that’s who he means when he talks about his mother.” Maes explains. “But going back to that painting, Ed.” He goes on abruptly.

Ed huffs, going a little pink. “What about it?”

“I had a long chat with the Madame after your birthday. You said some very interesting things in between being very, very cryptic, and bringing up conversations you never actually had with Roy about old Aerugonian painters.” Maes states, resting his forearms on the table as he leans in and watches Ed with a pointedly patient expression.

Ed narrows his eyes. “We did too talk about renaissance painters.”

“Yes, but not Vittori.” Maes stresses. “And nice dodge, by the way.”

“Well, I was talking about Vittori, and he got the story right, so it’s not my fault if he didn’t realise, and only got it right because he’s that much like a perverted lesbian hedonist from the fifteenth century.” Ed retorts. “And I didn’t dodge shit. I just addressed the only point you actually made.”

Maes snorts, and leans back in his chair with a sigh. “You’re going to be very good for Roy, you know, when he manages to pull his head out of his ass. He needs someone like you in his life to keep him honest, keep him from twisting himself up into contortions with all the games he likes to play.”

Ed eyes him for a long moment, because, hell, but that was a good summary of at least one of his lives in its entirety. The Xingese royal court was a pit of vipers. “Yeah.” He agrees shortly, but apparently even that is enough to put that worrying gleam of curiosity into Maes’s eyes again. This time it’s totally a dodge, and Ed doesn’t even care, when he says; “So, what were those interesting things you wanted to interrogate me about?”

“Oh, you know…” Maes says, with entirely and obviously feigned nonchalance. “Treason.”

Ed snorts. “Yeah? Is this you delivering Roy’s official pitch?”

“No, Ed. This is me asking how the hell you even knew there was a pitch.” Maes sighs, no longer light-hearted at all. He’s watching Ed carefully, worried, and it makes Ed feel bad. He hadn’t meant to make Maes paranoid about discovery. But of course, if a teenage wildcard like him could figure it out, anyone who didn’t know that the knowledge came from lifetimes of experience with Roy and his masks and his stupid doublespeak bullshit and his penchant for self-sacrificial righteousness would be forgiven for assuming that one of the Generals, or the Fuhrer himself, might be able to see it, too.

Ed could lie, or dodge again, or something, but he doesn’t want to make Maes’s life harder than it has to be. He’s a good friend to Roy, and he’s been a good friend to Ed, too, so far. “I bet you looked into Valentino’s Bar, huh?” He asks.

Maes narrows his eyes, but plays along. “What do you take me for, Ed? Of course I did. Headquarters for one of the most successful Aerugonian resistance forces this side of the border in a hundred years before they blew the place up. I looked into this Malka person you mentioned too. And believe me, I’m dying to know what a border scuffle and a mullah from eighty years ago have to do with Roy, but I’d like to know about the treason thing first.”

“Valentino’s Bar.” Ed holds up his hand, and then ticks each point off on his fingers as he goes. “The Wolfsbane killings. Knyazhna Tatiana Nikiforova. The assassination of General Maultier. The Riviere Traders. The first Xingese Empress.” Ed pauses. “I think that’s… No, wait, you can probably count the Second Drachman Revolution, too, really, although you may have to dig pretty deep to figure that one out.”

“I recognise a few of those.” Maes acknowledges.

Ed nods emphatically, as though it must be obvious even though he knows Maes probably won’t understand. “That’s how I knew. I don’t think anyone else has made the connections, though, so you don’t need to panic.”

Maes stares at him for a long, long moment. “Challenge accepted.” He says finally.

Laughing, Ed shakes his head at him. “If anyone can figure it out, I’d put my money on you, Maes.” He offers, and Maes beams at him.

“Your faith in me is heartwarming, Ed. Almost as heartwarming as my beautiful daughter!” Maes enthuses, and Ed resigns himself to watching the man parade out a stream of photographs of Elysia. At least, since he’s not required to say more than ‘aww’ and ‘wow’ every now and then, he actually has a chance finish his pasty.

This goes on until Ed’s almost finished eating, and then Maes, with well practised insincerity, checks his watch and says; “Oops! Looks like my lunch break is over!” And sweeps all of his photos back into his pocket and stands up while Ed is still chewing on his last bite. “See you later, Ed.”

“Mrmph.” Ed says again, nodding.

Maes chuckles. “And, one last thing, Ed?” He says, pausing on his way past Ed’s chair. Ed looks up at him with his eyebrows raised, and Maes hands him a little folded up piece of paper. “Don’t wait too long. Roy will keep you at arms length forever if you let him, because he’s got a martyr complex the size of the Eastern Desert. We’re working on him, but he could do with a reminder from you that you’re older than you look.”

Then he’s gone, and Ed’s left staring at empty space in confusion. If he’s translating Maes-speak right, that was a ‘well, I think you should jump him now’. He looks down at the paper in his hand and unfolds it, only to find nothing but an address written there, and he’d bet his other arm and leg that it’s Roy’s. Maes is an interfering matchmaker, and Ed doesn’t know whether to be pissed off or grateful.

Ed decides Maes’ gift is too good to let it go to waste, so the next time he’s back in East, he breaks into Roy’s house while the man’s still at work and makes himself at home. When Ed had told Al his plan, Al had given him one of those inexplicably readable looks of his where he’s judging every single one of Ed’s life choices in every single one of his lives, and then he sighed and wished him luck, which is why Al is best little brother in the whole wide world.

When Roy gets back, Ed is happily ensconced in Roy’s living room with half the books from Roy’s personal library spread out around him, a fire blazing in the grate, a ridiculously snug blanket over his shoulders, and a mug of some weird fancy tea at his elbow. Roy, of course, comes in warily, prepared for an intruder, fingers poised to snap, and stops dead in the doorway, staring. “FullMetal?”

“Hey, Bastard.” Ed will call Roy ‘Roy’ to his face when Roy calls him ‘Edward’ again. “Shut the damn door, you’re letting all the heat out.”

Roy is so off-balance that he actually does as he’s told. Ed will have to remember that trick. Then he returns and goes right back to staring. “How did you get in?”

“Transmuted the lock, obviously.” Ed informs him. “I can show you how to alchemically booby-trap your locks later, if you like.”

Roy sighs in long-suffering exasperation. “How did you even know where I live?”

“How did you even know I’m a fan of Vittori?” Ed retorts.

“Touché.” Roy admits, and then just stands there, staring in bewilderment.

Ed glances up from his book at last, and gives the man a judging look. “Well don’t just stand there like an idiot, idiot. Go order some take-out and then come explain to me why the hell you have bullshit like Dee’s Hierarchy of Elements on your shelf.”

“FullMetal…”

“Food, Bastard.” Ed insists.

Sighing again like the melodramatic bastard he is, Roy goes to call for take-out. While he’s doing that, Ed clears a space for him on the couch, shifting books he’d left lying open beside him when he got caught up in something else. Roy comes back, eyes the newly open space, and then gingerly seats himself. “FullMetal.” He says again.

“I’d say ‘that’s my name, Bastard, don’t wear it out’ except, you know, it’s not.” Ed says pointedly.

Another sigh. “What are you doing?”

“Investigating your personal book collection.” Ed replies immediately. “It’s not half bad, honestly. Although, seriously, what’s with Dee’s shit? His theories were debunked decades ago.”

“Most of his theories were debunked.” Roy counters, and the next half hour is full of good-natured bickering and alchemical debate. Then the food arrives, and the next hour passes by the same way, except now with really good food, too. The conversation takes a slightly darker turn as they dive into discussing human transmutation, biological alchemy, soul alchemy, and the difference between them, but even then, Ed feels more hopeful about his quest than he has in a while now, revved up with new determination because Roy might not have as much knowledge as Ed on the subject, but he’s painfully insightful, and so good at coming up with the things Ed’s missed.

Shit, but Ed loves him.

And it must be written all over his face because Roy falters in what he’s saying, in whatever argument he was making, and his expression turns conflicted and uncertain. Ed hates it. “Don’t.” Ed says, before Roy can say anything. Roy closes his mouth, but doesn’t look any less pained.

“Edward…” He says, half chiding, half pleading.

“Roy.” Ed returns, wry. Roy sucks in a sharp breath. “It’s okay, you know.”

“You’re half my age.” Roy retorts, sounding agonised.

He’s not exactly wrong, even if he’s not exactly right, either. Ed sighs, and looks down at the blanket that’s now draped over both of them. He picks at the edge of it with his automail hand. “Yeah. Why d’you think I haven’t actually made a move on you yet?”

Roy huffs a weird little half-laugh at that. “This isn’t you making a move?” He asks dryly.

Ed snorts. “Believe me, bastard, when I make a move on you, you’ll fucking know about it.”

“Literally, I suppose.” Roy muses wickedly, and then winces. “Sorry, that was-”

“If you say inappropriate, I’m gonna hit you.” Ed warns him, holding up his flesh hand in a fist in warning. Roy very pointedly presses his lips together and doesn’t say a word. “Cause it isn’t inappropriate, it’s fucking true. But I’m not stupid, you know. I do get that you’d feel kind of skeevy if we did anything yet, so- so I’m waiting. That doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend that there’s even the slightest fucking chance I’d pick anyone else in the world but you.”

Roy’s eyes go wide, and then he closes them. He leans in, and for a moment Ed thinks he’s going to kiss him, but instead he just leans their foreheads together. “You can’t know that for sure.” He whispers, sounding like it hurts to say it.

“I can.” Ed insists. “I do.”

“I know you’ve seen more of the world than most people your age, and I know that- that there’s more to you than just a fifteen year old hellion, but you shouldn’t tie yourself to me before you’ve had a chance to- to explore, and-”

“Idiot.” Ed huffs.

“I’m serious, Edward-”

“I know you are, Roy, that’s why you’re an idiot.” Roy pulls back to frown at him, and Ed wonders if Teacher is right, if he should tell him the whole truth. They’ve already been talking about souls half the evening, after all. But Ed… Ed isn’t quite ready to put himself that far out there when Roy is still battling his fucking conscience. It would feel… manipulative, or some shit. “Can I tell you a story?” He asks, instead.

“Can I stop you?” Roy answers wearily, but he’s smiling fondly, so Ed figures that’s not a no.

“Nope.” Ed squirms around until he’s comfortably leaning on Roy, and Roy hesitates only a moment before curling his arm around Ed’s shoulders. “Once upon a time, in a far away land, there was a boy.” Ed begins, measuring out the words.

“A fairytale?” Roy wonders, sounding startled.

“Yeah, sort of.” Ed hedges, because no, it’s not, it’s his life – their lives – but he’s not going to tell Roy that just yet. “Anyway, so this boy, he had real shit luck. Like, the shittiest. His parents died in a landslide when he was four, and not even a year later, he got nabbed by fucking slavers and carted off into the desert to be sold to some rich asshole who thought he was hot shit and that it somehow made him look good to have a tiny ‘exotic’ little boy serving drinks at his stupid parties, and not like a complete shit-stain.”

“That does sound unfortunate.” Roy comments, sounding confused.

“Yeah, but this kid, right, this kid was resilient, and clever. He made this plan. Cause, see, in Xerxes-”

“Oh, is that where this is set?”

“Yeah, shut up. In Xerxes, academia was everything. If you were smart, if you could make a valuable contribution to the Great Library, you could earn your way up to the top, even if you started out a slave. Even if you weren’t Xerxesian by birth. So that’s what he decided to do.” Ed pauses, thinking back and trying to sort an entire lifetime into something he could tell Roy and have it make sense. “One day, when he was out running errands or some shit, this slave just happened to be in the right place at the right time to see this building – one of the big manors for the Savants – collapse.”

“Savants?” Roy questions.

“It’s the best translation of the title. Like I said, the heirarchy in Xerxes was about academia, not the military, or inheritance, or anything like that. They were people who- who fucking revolutionised knowledge in whatever field of study. Being recognised as a Savant was, I don’t fucking know, like being a General, I guess, here. You’re powerful, and people kinda have to listen to you, and you get lots of perks and rewards and shit. There were also teachers and shit, Professors or whatever, which was basically one step sideways, not quite parallel, but… the State Alchemists, sort of?”

“I see.” Roy says, sounding a little bewildered. “So… so this manor collapsed?” He prompts.

“Yeah, and this boy- Well, he was a teenager, by today’s standards-”

“Today’s standards?”

“In Xerxes you were considered a child until you were twenty-five, on average.” Ed explains impatiently. “When you completed the standard education and could choose a speciality. Anyway-” Ed presses when it looks like Roy’s about to ask more questions. “So, this boy recognised an alchemical reaction when he saw one, and managed to pinpoint the source in amongst the rubble.”

“Who did he find?” Roy asks, which at least isn’t a distracting question.

“This kid. Nine years old, half crushed by rubble. His entire right arm was so much mush. He’d been being an idiot, trying to get his super-clever Savant grandmother to pay attention to him, and his circle had backfired on him and brought the whole house down. And this slave kid pushed this massive piece of masonry out of the way with one shoulder and grabbed the other kid with the other hand and just hauled him out of the mess he’d turned his entire life into. Carried him to the healers. Went right back and dug out the kid’s cousin. His grandmother was already dead, but if it hadn’t been for that slave, his cousin would have died before anyone got around to getting him out.”

“Edward…” Roy says slowly.

“I’m not finished, bastard, let me finish.” Ed retorts. Roy nods silently, so Ed forges on. “So this kid, this dumbass kid who destroyed his entire life all by himself because he couldn’t appreciate what he had when his dad was gone and his mum was dead, knew that he had to pay back this slave for saving him and his cousin. So he went and found him and taught him everything he knew, everything he got to learn just because he was born to an educated family. They studied together for years, ended up fucking revolutionising alchemy. Heh. The slave was elevated to Savant because he figured out that water is actually combustible if you pull it apart.”

“Is it really?” Roy asks, smirking. “I had no idea.”

Ed cackles. “Sure you didn’t.”

“I assume the other boy became a Savant, too?” Roy questions, giving Ed a soft look under faintly furrowed brows. Like he’s figured out Ed’s talking about them but still isn’t sure what the point is. Jokes on him, because that is the point.

“Yeah. He figured out some really cool architectural tricks. There’s so much cool shit you can do with rocks and sand if you really pay attention to the molecular structure. Like fixing fault-lines in otherwise apparently solid stone.” Ed explains with a grimace. Roy tugs him a little closer.

“I take it the boy’s cousin did recover, too?” Roy asks gently.

“Yeah.” Ed confirms. He knows Roy thinks he’s talking about Al, even though he’s not. Lyco hadn’t been much like Al, really. He’d been a daydreamer, kind but absent-minded, and he didn’t understand people at all, not the way Al did. Ed had loved him just as much, though. “Xerxes was pretty good with healing alchemy, so he got better eventually. And eventually, these two dumbasses got around to admitting that somewhere between the heroics and the research and the awards, they’d fallen in love. It didn’t really change that much, though, they still bickered over theories and played with alchemy together and spent most of their time side by side in the library. It was just that when they went home, they went to the same place, and sometimes they had sex, which was pretty fun.”

Roy makes a sound that’s trying to be a laugh, but is a little too strangled to manage. “I think I see your point, Edward-”

“Still not finished, bastard.” Ed interrupts. “So they got married, and eventually they got asked to tutor the royal children. Which, in case you can’t figure it out, was one of the very highest honours a person could be awarded in Xerxes. They probably couldn’t really have said no without being, like, shunned or something, but it didn’t really matter because… because they really enjoyed it. Not just teaching, which was frustrating as all hell but entirely worth it, but teaching those kids. They were hellraisers, don’t get me wrong, but they were so good, too. Getting to help them discover themselves? Discover the amazing things they could accomplish? Those two stupid boys loved that a whole hell of a lot. Queen Aesara was one of Xerxes most beloved rulers, and they were so proud of her.” Ed pauses, and collects himself. “And they lived happily ever after for the rest of their days or whatever shit. There, now I’m done.”

They sit in silence for a while. Ed doesn’t mind, although he’s a bit restless. “Is that the sort of thing you want from your future, then?” Roy asks eventually. “Teaching?”

“Eh.” Ed shrugs and tries to explain. “Maybe? But there’s lots of things I could do once I’ve fixed my fuck up and Al’s okay. Lots of fulfilling paths to take or whatever. Could teach. Could do research. Could become a doctor. Could open a restaurant. Could go into fucking journalism. Lots of ways to do good in the world. My point is… it’ll be better with you there. I want that. And I think you want that, too. To do whatever we end up doing together.”

He hears Roy swallow, and then let out a breath that shakes. “Yes, Edward. I want that, too.” He agrees. His arm tightens momentarily around Ed’s shoulders, and his head tips to lean his cheek against the top of Ed’s head, and then he turns so he can press an achingly gentle kiss to Ed’s hair. Ed turns into Roy and hides his smile against the man’s shoulder.

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lilopelckai · 5 years

Text

|| Get to know LILO who’s TWENTY-ONE years old and a JUNIOR in college majoring in MECHANICS. She is from HAWAII and is often times mistaken for LULU ANTARIKSA while others say she reminds them of LILO from LILO AND STITCH. ||

hello all, it i, pepper coming at ya once again on that new muse juice (... that sounds so gross omg i’m sorry dkjsdkj). today i am HYPE to introduce you all with my bby lilo!! honestly lilo and stitch is one of my fave movies of all time so sdkjsdk NO PRESSURE YK but anyways down bellow will be a bit about ya girl!

BIO (ish, thing tjkfj)

Lilo is weird. She’s a weirdo. She doesn’t fit in, and she doesn’t WANT to fit in. Have you ever seen her without that stupid mumu? That’s WEIRD

dfkdjsdk sorry i had to, i put joke in my app and i had to make it again aNYWAYS FOR REAL NOW

tldr ; she’s lilo, just kinda sadder sdkjds saw her parents die, went to therapy, doesn’t really ever feel like she belongs, is afraid of loving anyone because she’s afraid of losing them, the Works Folks. also teaches hula now! kinda wants to be a photography major! has an instagram following! i think that’s it oof

For the most part I don’t plan to deviate from Lilo’s cannon storyline too much seeing as you know, she’s a human and not a humanoid turtle that knows karate so I don’t feel like I need to change TOO much BUT i do want to flesh her out a bit.

First, I headcannon that Lilo was actually in the car during her parents car accident. She was in the backseat and came out of the whole thing relatively uninjured physically, but mentally, and emotionally, well, that was a different story. This is the biggest explanation for the darkness deep in Lilo’s psyche, the reason she had to sit through so much therapy with so many psychologists over the years., You see, Lilo was odd prior to the accident but that eccentricity only seemed to be amplified there after. That combined with the fact that all of her friends abruptly abandoned her after her parents death (literally cannon, can you believe it, screw mertle sdkjdsj) Lilo was kind of left in no mans land emotionally. Therapy never really helped her much unfortunately, and for long time Lilo simply tried to do anything she could to cope. Whether that was pretending she and Mertle were still friends, or praying to god for some sort of angel, or getting unfairly angry with her sister. Lilo spent a long time after her parents death just barely trying to keep afloat, until after a while she stopped having to try. She’s gotten so good at pretending she’s okay that she’s almost even convinced herself.

Like I said Lilo has also always been the type that people struggled to understand. She was a harmless girl, but she said odd things without hesitation, and she never quite got along with her peers, or even other adults because of it. Honestly outside of her family Lilo had few friends because no one could really understand her, and despite the pain of that, Lilo swallowed it down and continued on. Pretty soon, Lilo started to get into the habit of keeping people at arms length, of pushing people away before they could reject her. It was easier being the weird girl, being the one people pointed at and whispered about than being the girl who desperately just wanted a friend. So Lilo slowly buried that girl down deep over time. She tries not to let her out, she’s a real buzz kill.

That was until Stitch of course. She let Stitch in. It wasn’t honestly at the time, the part of Lilo that was so desperate for friendship was still open and bleeding then. She accepted Stitch into her life with open arms and little questions, and to this day he’s still her best friend and her brother. He’s one of the few people who have accepted her fully for who she is, weird shit and all, and Lilo couldn’t be more grateful for him.

I have a headcannon that the Pelekai’s kind of became maybe a bit of a group home? Just because of all the experiments who came in and out of their place. In my mind the experiments were children who Lilo, Nani, her uncle Jumba and Aunt Pleakley would do their best to find amazing homes for. This was Lilo’s idea, after meeting Stitch.

Honestly Lilo uses her weirdness as a bit of a shield. If she’s weird enough then it’s like people know who she is immediately, and the people who wouldn’t want to be around her because of it will leave. She wasn’t rejected, and it didn’t hurt because SHE was the one in control if that makes sense? Being as odd as possible is just a way to keep her heart safe sometimes, and when people stick around despite how odd she is Lilo doesn’t really know what to do honestly.

Despite this Lilo is still very friendly. She feels no qualms about talking to people or speaking her mind, honestly, it’s never been something she’s had an issue with. She’s just chosen not to care whether those people actually like her or not, or at least has numbed herself to caring about that if that makes sense.

A rebellious streak a mile wide tbh. Lilo never wants to hurt anybody of course and she never will unless pushed to the breaking point (ex. That one time she lashed out at Mertle) , but she never has been and never will be obedient. She’s known to get into mischief occasionally, and she doesn’t love being told what to do,

HEADCANNONS ;

Still loves photography and actually sometimes considers changing her major. She chose mechanics because the idea of helping Stitch get up into space was something that she was always excited about -- honestly the concept of them being together even in their adult lives was just too reassuring to her-- and she rationalized it all by telling herself that she wanted to take photos for herself and for money. But photography is her passion honestly and she genuinely has a bit of a talent for it. She’s done a few art galleries and won a couple of minor awards, and even in her spare time she tends to walk around Corona with a camera looking for things take pictures of. Her photos aren’t ever exactly… everyone’s cup of tea, but they’re thought provoking at the very least.

In my mind Lilo takes a lot of photos with body diverse models, honestly for the most part she will only take photos of body diverse models.

At this point I think she has photography as her minor.

A bisexual babe because none of my muses are ever straight.

Also a demigirl. Lilo was kind of inspired by her Aunt Pleakley to truly consider her gender (I headcannon that Pleakley is gender fluid or a trans woman but that’s just me) and it was through that careful consideration that Lilo realized she didn’t fully identify as a girl.

Very accepting. Very liberal. Has gotten arrested at a protest once. Very much will stand up for her beliefs and the rights of others dkdsdkjd is Not here for prejudice or toxic masculinity will fight you on sight !!!

Still loves dancing. One of her proudest accomplishments is winning the hula competition that her mother won back home in Kauai. She doesn’t dance professionally in any other styles, but she does love to dance and she will indulge in that from time to time. I think she might teach the occasional hula lesson at the local gym but it’s probably a specialty thing like once every two weeks or something. She does have some regularly who come though and that always makes her happy.

Still loves the ocean and surfing as well, and honestly will go to the ocean no matter the weather and put her wetsuit on to have a good time. You can find Lilo on the beach at anytime, especially when she’s homesick, just smelling the salt of the ocean and riding the waves.

Also still tries to feed Pudge the fish peanut butter sandwiches, because she maintains that he does control the weather (also the fact that there’s a theory that Lilo used to feed pudge the fish because it was raining the day of her parents car crash and she him to make the weather nice so that never happens to anyone again has me FUCKED UP it will always have me FUCKED UP and that is all).

lilo is also a big philiophobe tbh, like i said she has a lot of issues getting attached to people because she feels like they might just leave so love really scares her? and she tends to freak out at just the thought of it so sdksdk love this for her she gets crushes on people occasionally but the moment things start to get serious this bitch will DIP

loves to have fun though! she doesn’t tend to get asked out on a lot of dates tbh but your girl tens to have a few drunken hook ups here and there and she finds those fun. she also regularly likes to go on tinder and fuck with people. not even catfishing them or anything she just likes to message them weird shit and have a good time dkjdf

has a big ass heart tbh. she would give someone the shirt off her back without any hesitation. she’s just a really kind person despite being hurt so much before, and she honestly never intends to hurt anyone even if she does so accidentally or in anger yk? Like if you fucked with her, then she might lash out for a hot minute but after she’s cooled down it’ll be like damn,,, didn’t mean to do that. Honestly she just has a bit of a temper lowkey but she actually feels guilty after unlike some people *cough* local devil kronk turtle man *cough*

Can’t hold a grudge for the life of her. Forgives way too easily rip

Has a photography instagram that’s actually pretty damn popular! She’s got a good amount of followers on there and while Lilo’s proud she doesn’t really know what to do with all the positive attention on her weird as shit photos?

WANTED CONNECTIONS ;

i have a wanted connection tag here! check it out and if anything in there catches your eye just lemme know!

GIRL SQUAD ; please. please. i’m out here,,, beggin fdkdfkfd i really want lilo to have some female friends okay just a cute little squad of buds, i’m picturing the skam girl squad, i’m picturing those girls from pretty little liars that i can’t remember the name of, i’m picturing idk the girls from that one movie with tiffany haddish jsut sds pLEASE Y’ALL vanellope & tink

EX-SOMETHING ; this could either be someone who like actually got close enough for lilo to freak the freak out and dip like someone she nearly fell in love with or fell in love with her and kind of triggered her GOTTA GO reflex lmao or someone she casually dated for the fun of it, maybe they even went on a few dates before they realized they were better as friends?

ENEMIES ; someone who doesn’t like lilo and lilo doesn’t like in return. Or maybe it’s one sided we can plot it out!

PARTNER IN CRIME ; this is the person who Lilo will end up in prison with. This is the person who she goes to when she just wants to go crazy aaah go stupid. Love this for her. caitlin !

PHOTOGRAPHY BUD OR MUSE ; exactly what it says on the tin. Someone who will let Lilo sit on their shoulders so she can Get That Shot. Somebody who will be like Tom Holland in this post and Do It For The Gram!!! phoenix

EX-TINDER DATE ; honestly this could align with the second ex something or even the first or be something different completely! but like i said lilo tends to go on tinder dates to mess around with people so she would just be as weird as possible during the date for shits and giggles tbh and it was probably a really fun time unless your muse was really serious about it! We can discuss what happened on the actual date and have a wild time

SOMEONE SHE TUTORS ; surprisingly engineering and other sciences comes really easy to Lilo so this goes out to science majors I suppose!

A CRUSH ; self explanatory I think but if anyone is willing to let Lilo have a a bit of a crush on their muse hmu. buttercup!

SIBLING LIKE CONNECTION ; !!! love this omg if anyone wants to give Lilo a pseudo sibling i would love this.

FWB/CASUAL HOOKUP ; self explanatory i think

i think that’s all i can think of for now but !!! plot with me please! that is all thank you sdksdjk

#l.p. | bio.#oof finished

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peachyjie · 6 years

Text

A Cup Of What? || Huang Justin

A/N : writing this whilst drinking coffee, if you are wondering. I got so into it, I kinda forgot I was suppose to post this an hour ago.

Requested : No (ask box is open btw, and my WIP is dry af)

Pairing : Huang Justin - Reader

Genre : fluff + flustered Justin *which is cute*

Summary : A warm cup of coffee can change a lot, especially for a flustered baby.

————•————

Justin hummed in adoration, he stared at you from across of the room. Quanzhe could feel his stare penetrating flowers all over him.

You may not noticed, too engrosed styling Zhengting’s hair that is not so coorperative today.

“Ge, she’s so pretty”, he sighed one more time. Chengcheng stared at the younger, his eyes judging him.

Justin Huang, or Huang MingHao is officially in love with you. Believe it or not, his interest got the best of him the moment one of the senior stylist brought you in, introducing you to everyone as the new girl that’s joining the team.

So officially, Justin had been interested in you for 3 months. At first it was small glances, curious glances.

He would study you a little, taking your features. You’re stil considered young to be considered a professional stylist. But your work speaks otherwise.

You have a passion for fashion and art, and what better way on combining it? That’s right, a stylist.

You always love the feeling of making people feel beautiful, and you always love painting them. You love making transformation, big or small.

And Justin admired you for that. Despite having a big talent, you always shy away and stay humble. Saying your work still needs improvement.

He kept staring at you as you sprayed some hair spray on Zhengting’s hair. Mumbling to yourself how annoying his hair is, not wanting to stay in place.

Chencheng stared at the younger and sighed. “If you like her that much, why don’t you ask her out?”

And boy, Chengcheng had never seen such red face on anyone in his life before.

Justin Huang was blusing.

Hard

Quanzhe just shakes his head and continued reading his book. “Stop it, ge! That’s like you’re asking me to marry your sister!”, Justin replied, hissing at Chengcheng.

Which earns a smack from Chengcheng.

Justin yelped too loud making head turns, making Zhengting’s turn, which made you turn to stare at him.

When he caught your stare, he swore he could explode into millions of stardusts. Why is your eyes so mesmerizing and so beautiful, its killing him.

His daze didn’t last long before Zhengting’s inner Mom came out of him, barking at Chengcheng and Justin. Surprising all of you.

“Be nice!”, Zhengting whipped his head to you and smiled. “Am i done?”, you laughed. Justin swore he thinks he is hearing angels singing.

“Not yet, Ting. Your hair won’t stay in place”, you said proceeding to take a comb and hairspray. “Maybe it’s hungry!”, Zhengting said out of sense.

You laughed harder. “Ting, that doesn’t make any sense.”, making him pout. “But i am hungry”, he sulked. You smiled softly, being around the same age with them got you easier to talk and joke around with them.

“How bout, you go eat and let someone take your place?”, you didn’t have to wait long. Because the moment Zhengting stood up, you saw Justin being thrown by Chengcheng to your station.

You jumped a little, while Justin is still in his daze registering how he teleported. “You came in fast, Minghao”, you smiled at the younger one.

He snaps his gaze to you and laugh awkwardly. You didn’t waste any more time and started your work.

He became all soft noticing how you always call him using his real name instead of his stage name. He once asked why, and you plainly said-

“It’s a nice name, why should you hide it?”

Aside of his favorite time on stage, this was his favorite moment. He always managed to get himself all polished with you, only you. No one else.

You

He felt familiar with your touches, and it put his heart on ease. And this is the only time where he can be so close to you with an important reason.

“You’re getting really popular these days”, you tried starting a converstation with him. He almost jumped when you spoke.

“Y-yea, it’s nerve-wrecking”, you hummed as you applied lip coloring on him.

Which mean you’re being in a really close proximity with him

Which mean Justin had to keep himself from having a nosebleed heartattack by your beauty

“I’m gonna start on your hair now”, Justin didn’t realized he was holding his breath. He took a big breath and huffed away. Nodding vigorously.

You giggled a little. “Any request?”, you ask him. Staring at him from the mirror, you wait.

Justin being a flustered baby, he blurted out without thinking”

“You”

This catched you off guard. You stared at him wide eyed. Justin was a mess, he’s screaming internallyvat how dumb can he get. Figuring out how to fix the situation.

“Hey, Y/N”, you saw Zhengting calling. He held up a cup of coffee. You smiled in gratefulness, finally being able to get a dose of caffeine.

“Thank you, Zhengting”, you said as you walked to his side. Justin was still thinking how to make the conversation less awkward, not noticing you slipping away.

You were about to take the coffee from Zhengting, before the tall guy tripped. Stumbling and grip loosen on the cup

It happened too fast.

You were about to catch the cup, but it was already too late anyways. The cap is open, liquid spilling out.

A gasp came out of your lips, everyone in the room soon panicked.

Justin, Huang Justin. The contestant of Idol Producer who managed to steal all hearts from young to older woman to vote for him. That talented kid who can dance and rap was now done for.

Justin didn’t know what happened.

But

Justin felt like being slapped by liquid, warm liquid. He broke his trance. Justin stared at himself. Horror masking his face.

Then he screams

If there is a top 3 screaming contest in Yuehua, you would gladly nominate Justin. Because right now his scream is between a state of a dying dolphin and a choked crow.

It was a mess, a big mess

Taking responsibility, you grab his hand and drags him to the changing room. Justin was too busy freaking out to notice he is being held by you.

Zhengting whipped his head staring down at the culprit, he glared at Chengcheng. Chengcheng just took his outstretched leg back and stare at his mother. Acting confusion.

“Wopsie?”, Chengcheng fake shrugs, earning a loud smack from Zhengting.

“Not the face, Ge!!! NOT THE FACE!!”

You grabbed a towel and quickly drys Justin, you didn’t mind your work going to waste. It doesn’t matter right now

“Are you hurt?”, you checks every side of his face for any burn. Justin noticing the situation, blushed.

You noticing his red face, grew more worried. “Did you burn yourself?! Oh god, we need to go to get you checked and-“

“No!”, Justin yelled making you cringed. He clears his throat awkwardly. “It’s okay, I’m okay”, he said still trying to recover himself from his blushing state

“Are you sure?”, still unsure. Justin took a deep breath. “Yes, I am sure”, Justin choked.

“I am far than okay, especially after you already helped me dry myself. I am completely okay, the coffee wasn’t even that hot! Hell, its not even as hot as you-“, Justin stared at himself in horror

You wide eyed stared at him back, shocked. “I am so screwed”, Justin cursed himself kneeling, flustered

“Minghao?”, Justin stared at you. “Want to talk about what’s in your mind?”

Justin stared at you, uncertain written in his eyes. “I won’t run, Hao. I promise”, you reassured

“I-“, he choked out before he stops. He sighs, clearing his throat.

“I like you, a lot. And I know it’s been only like 3 months that you came, but I am sincere. I like you a lot, and I realized how dumb I can get until I was a flustered mess. Gosh, you probably won’t date such a dork, I’ll just-“

“Minghao”, you snaps him out of his rambles. You laughed a little. “Relax, you were rapping and it’s not even recorded yet”, you tried to joke.

Justin blushed more, feeling embarrassed. You cleared your throat, gaining his attention again.

“You know, this is such a worst timing for you to confess”, you started.

Justin swore he heard his heart breaks a little. Is this it? Rejection right in spot? Can he run away and never come back? Can he-

“Yea, you’re right”, he said dejected. You smiled.

“No, you dork. I meant, we need to get yourself polished. You’re a mess right now, what would your fans do if you go on stage like this?”, you gestures his state

Justin processing the situation, registering what you meant. He smiled.

“You mean, you’re not rejecting me?!”

“Why would I?”, you opened the door. “Come one, Minghao. After the show, let’s get some coffee and talk about it”, you smiled

Justin all giddy and mushed could only nod. You should know how happy he is. This is the best day of his life. He got his girl.

And all that was sacrificed was a cup of coffee

#9%#idol producer #nine percent #justin huang #idol producer scenarios #idol producer imagines #nine percent scenarios #nine percent imagines #9 percent scenarios #9 percent imagines #9% scenarios #9% imagines #justin huang scenarios #justin huang imagines #written scenarios

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themangaguide · 3 years

Text

It truly was pleasing

Some ideas concerning

That is classified as Shounen-ai (seemingly yaoi) and it is so magnificent, amusing, relatable, classic ... I could carry on as well as on, yet I Will keep it in the reality which makes my heart proceed doki each time I review it or makes me chuckle. Really my Mother (that thinks anime and also manga are strange) thought that it was fascinating. 19 Times is loaded from laughing much with slapstick humor that presented me. Our stomachaches in the routine giggles I would certainly to manage. I believe with sparkling eyes I seemed similar to a loony along with a fist in my own mouth, shoulders shivering non quit. The figures are nice, pretty lovable and freaking hilarious! Love them to probabilities and also ends.

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saiyanprince541 · 6 years

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A Capsulated Christmas

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone!! So here’s a sweet, funny and steamy VegeBul Christmas collab for my awesome friends @nekolover628 and @loveveggiehead (Neko's going to draw the cover art for it, which I'll link as soon as it's up hehe)! Hope you enjoy! ;) FFN version: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12771524/1/A-Capsulated-Christmas Ao3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13141614 A Capsulated Christmas

"Mommy?" The two-year tottered into her parents' bedroom, dressed in a powder-pink dress that was embossed with white lilies and had short bell-sleeves, over a snow-white pair of polyester PJs. "Daddy?"

The Prince let out a weary groan, his eyelids fluttering open. With as little noise as possible, he sat up from his bedside, wincing at the slight creak. He groggily rubbed his eyes and stared quizzically at the minuscule form, awkwardly standing at the doorway.

"I'm hung-wee." Bra whined.

Vegeta placed an index finger on his lips, tacitly urging her to keep her voice down, before cautiously clambering out of bed and tiptoeing towards the tiny toddler. He scooped her up in his arms and headed downstairs to the kitchen, not wanting to rouse Bulma from her slumber, since it was barely dawn. She'd come home late last night and they needed to prepare for Christmas, come the morning. The entire crew was invited to Capsule Corporation and a lot of work lay ahead of them.

"Alright, what do you want to eat?" The Prince asked, once he seated Bra in a high chair and fastened a polka-dotted, sea-blue bib around her shoulders.

"Gummy worms!" The child squealed excitedly, throwing her hands up high.

"No!" Vegeta frantically repudiated, with a horrified grimace, icy chills rushing down his strapping figure. "No worms!"

"No wormies?" Bra gasped, her bottom lip trembling and her large cerulean eyes beginning to water up, as she sniffled. The Prince was instantly wracked with alarm, knowing that any second now, his daughter would burst into a clamorous fit of tears, which could very well stir the entire city block to an unwelcoming wake.

"I- What I mean to say is that uh-" Darn it, he needed to think of something fast! "Gummies aren't a breakfast food."

"Weally?" The toddler suddenly went wide-eyed with curiosity.

"Yes." The tremulous Prince affirmed. "But aside from that, you must never eat worms." He added grimly, narrowing his eyes and positioning himself, so he was face level with Bra. "Worms are the embodiment of all evil and if you eat them, you become evil for three whole days and Santa doesn't give you any presents."

A tense moment of deliberation followed, after which Bra fervidly nodded in agreement.

"Okay, no wormies."

'Phew.' Vegeta inwardly sighed in relief, wiping off the beads of sweat dappled on his damp forehead. That went down a whole lot easier than he'd expected.

"Jelly babies?" The half-Saiyan asked.

"No, you mustn't eat those either." He cautioned. Gods, this spoiled girl was up to her ears in junk-food. Didn't she realize that stuff was bad for her? "What you need it a good wholesome treat."

"Ho-sum?" She narrowed her eyes inquisitively.

"Yes." The Prince nodded. "I'm going warm up some oatmeal for you."

Bra didn't know what oatmeal was, but it sounded pleasant and so she decided to go with it. The flame-haired warrior dropped a sachet of quick oats into a bowl, before pouring a cup-and-a-half of milk over it and placing it in the microwave, for a nice two-minute heat. Once that was done, he pulled it out, added three teaspoons of sugar, stirred and set it on his daughter's tray. She looked at him expectantly and he cursed under his breath. Couldn't this entitled brat do anything herself?! Vegeta begrudgingly gathered up a spoonful of porridge, softly blowing on it and proceeding to feed his voracious, blue-haired cub.

"Yummy!" Bra gushed in delight after having a taste. She avidly indulged in the rest of the sweet, savory goodness of the soft, steaming breakfast cereal. "More?" She earnestly asked her father, once the bowl was empty, an imploring gleam in her dazzling, azure eyes- Gods, they were just like her mothers. Unable to deny her, the Prince grumbled under his breath and prepared another serving of oatmeal. Ten bowls later, the ebullient baby was finally sated and Vegeta was an exhausted mess. Darn girl! How could she eat so much and at the same time, be so little?!

Vegeta was wiping the milky residue off Bra's chin with a napkin, when Bulma walked in and witnessed the breathtaking scene, instantly engulfed with an overwhelming deluge of warmth and giddiness, her heart fluttering towards the skies. Even after all these years, it was a rare pleasure to witness the more tender side to her sullen husband. She was going to announce her presence there and then, but before that she furtively pulled out her smartphone and took a surreptitious snap, tucking it away just as fast in order to prevent Vegeta from getting wind. The last time she captured him doing something sweet on camera, he'd disintegrated the hapless device.

"Merry Christmas, lovelies." She strolled over to the duo, a mischievous grin embedded on her waggish features.

"Mommy!" Bra bubbled, holding her stubby arms out. The blue-haired mother gathered up the tiny bundle, cuddling her close.

"Why aren't you in bed?" Vegeta glowered at his wife, evidently displeased at having been caught in such a compromising position.

"Well, I guess I'm no longer used to sleeping alone anymore." She gave him a naughty wink, whereby his face flushed a good three shades of crimson.

"Merry Christmas mom, Merry Christmas dad." Trunks casually sauntered into the kitchen, his hairy mussy and eyes half-lidded. "Merry Christmas Bra." The bleary boy beamed at his effervescent baby sister.

"Twunksie!" The toddler enthused and practically jumped into his arms.

"Whoa, easy there squirt." The older half-Saiyan was barely able to catch the pouncing girl.

"Merry Christmas Trunks." Bulma greeted, kneeling down and planting a protracted kiss on his cheek, to the boy's utter embarrassment.

"Mom." He protested, face turning beet red.

"Hmph." Vegeta sulkily shot his nose in the air.

"Well, I think I'm gonna sleep a while longer." The heiress yawned, stretching her arms out wide. "Trunks, would you mind looking after your sister for a few more hours?"

The lavender-haired demi-Saiyan was about to object, but the yearning look on Bra's face prevented him from doing so.

"Sure thing, mom." He sighed in resignation.

Bulma gestured for her husband to follow and so he trailed after her, back upstairs.

Nightfall...

Less than an hour remained before Christmas dinner. Bulma accoutred a lavish halter neck gown that fell down to her toes. Ornamented along the lower half of the ostentatious keyhole neckline, were a brilliant trim of lustrous diamonds, fashioned in an elaborate V-outline. She'd grown her hair over the last few months and fixed it up in a shoulder length blunt style, with bangs neatly fashioned on the front. Once she'd finished painting her nails a glistening scarlet, the heiress put on an open-toe pair of gleaming black stilettos. After pinning a matching set of silver, four-leaf clover studs to her ears, she was finally done sprucing herself up.

"God, you are looking hot, girl!" She preened, as she stood in front of the full-length bedroom mirror. The showy crimson garb was cut excessively high on the left-hand side, at approximately upper hip-level, revealing an obscene amount of creamy, mouthwatering leg skin. Vegeta's breath hitched, as he entered the room and ogled at the mesmerizing reflection of the vulgar seductress.

"What the hell do you think you're wearing?!" He demanded, at a mind-numbing cross between alarm and arousal, leaning more and more towards the latter, with each passing second.

"Like what you see babe?" She whirled around, raising a devilish brow.

"You- You're not seriously going to wear that, are you?!" The flustered Prince gasped, a stream of blood percolating through his burning loins.

"Oh no, I just put it on for the heck of it." Bulma sarcastically rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm gonna wear it, you dolt."

"That is the most indecent set of garments I've ever seen!" He growled at her, severely appalled. "And considering the way you normally dress, that's saying a lot!"

"Alright, I'll admit it's a little over-the-top, but so what?!" She frowned. "I look like a freaking goddess. Besides, you shouldn't be complaining." She smirked suggestively, ambling towards him and swaying her curvaceous hips, all the while. The sultry staccato of her high heels grew louder as she drew closer, right alongside the pounding thrum of Vegeta's accelerating heart. He stiffened, as the entrancing heiress wound her slim arms around his sinewy frame, pressing her lithe form against his. "The others may look if they want, but you're the only one who gets to touch. Consider it an honor."

"D-Damn you Bulma." He stammered, unable to resist her beguiling charms. From what little he knew, Christmas was meant to be a day of holiness and virtue, yet his lewd wife radiated with sin and sacrilege, no matter what day it was. She placed her glossy, bare thigh between his legs, teasing his hardening crotch. Any willpower he had left, quickly absconded from the dwindling recesses of Vegeta's mind, right alongside the last vestiges of breath remaining in his immobile lungs. As Bulma shifted her face closer to his, he docilely parted his lips, knowing that one way or another he was bound to surrender.

"You know, as much as I'd love to screw your brains out right now, we can't bear the risk of running late." She gave her husband an apologetic look, as a bitter scowl laced his grouchy features. "Sorry Vegeta, but it'll have to wait. Plus, I know how much you hate it when I smear lipstick all over that cute little face of yours." Winking impishly, she traced his M-shaped hairline with the tip of her nose, before exiting the scene.

The Prince seethed to himself, thoroughly vexed. Not only did stir his libido, but she had the gall to call him "cute" and then just up-and-leave as if nothing happened! It was like dangling a half-peeled banana in front of a ravenous chimpanzee and then leaving the poor creature to wither- not that it was appropriate to liken himself to a simian or his wife to a fruit. Unwilling to endure the excruciating agony of blue balls for the next five hours or so, Vegeta dashed towards the heiress, abruptly snatching her and whisking her right back into the bedroom.

"Hey wait!" She yelped, as he tossed her on the bed like a sack of rice and climbed on top, burying his nose within her ample bosom and inhaling deep. "Hold it, mister!" Bulma fulminated. "I had this outfit custom-made and I've waited months, for a chance to wear it! There's no way in hell I'm gonna let you ruin this one, you understand?!"

As the Prince rubbed his face against her plush breasts, he found himself to be rather allured by the charmeuse material, hampering his journey towards the prize that lay within. It was unlike anything else he'd come across. He suddenly felt as though the ornate gown was a part of her and he just didn't have it in him to blemish it.

"Hey, did you hear me?!"

"I heard you." He breathed rather gently and something about the way he said it, made Bulma's heart skip a beat, stomach instantly flooding with a bustling barrage of resplendent butterflies. It was then that she noticed him delicately running his fingers along the soft, satiny fabric. Realization hit her that he was drawn by the provocative outfit so much so that he refused to ravage it, the way he normally did. For long moments, the Prince alternated between trailing his hands and nose down her tantalizing, porcelain skin and the fascinating texture of the flimsy material covering it. Lower and lower he went, planting soft, lingering kisses on her thigh that made her whimper, a sharp surge of scorching desire flooding through her. "Take the dress off." He mumbled against her heated centre.

"Vegeta c-come on, we don't have time." She objected, in spite of all the base instincts screaming at her to jump his bones.

"Hey mom, dad- oh my God!" The lavender-haired half-Saiyan gasped, placing his hands over his mouth in shock, as he saw his father's face immersed deep inside the high-slit of his mother's revealing dress.

"Trunks!" Bulma shrieked, alarm bells blaring in her swarming mind, as she shoved away the desirous Saiyan's flaming head and hurriedly covered her exposed leg.

"Get out of here now brat!" A rubescent Vegeta yelled furiously, cursing himself for not having locked the damn door!

"Y-Y-Yes sir!" Trunks squeaked and instantly darted elsewhere, trying desperately to unsee what he'd seen. It was too much for his innocent young mind to take.

"Dammit, what the heck?!" The heiress scowled, bopping her husband's head, in admonishment. "This is all your fault!"

"What?!" He snarled in outrage. "That's bullshit! You're the one who smothered yourself all over me and then left me hanging there, with a stray boner!"

"Stray boner?! Why you-" Bulma furiously got to her feet and straightened out her dress. "You know what?! Screw you! I don't have time for this! I've got work to do!"

"You're damn right!" The wroth Prince ground his teeth, gripping her by the arms. "Your very first order of business is to finish off what you started!"

"I can't, darn it!" She hissed back. "We've barely got forty minutes left!"

"I don't care if we have ten minutes!" He seethed. "I refuse to walk around with an untended erection, especially if you're going to dangle yourself in front of me the whole time, wearing that!"

"You- freaking- ugh goddamn you." The heiress sighed in surrender, louring at her mulish husband. "Fine, go the shower-room and I'll give you a hand-job. Happy?"

"What?!" He protested. "No way! As if that'll be enough to-"

"Look, I don't have time to primp myself all over again!" She snapped. "It's a hand-job or no job. Your choice."

"How about a blow-job?" He asked, a hopeful gleam in his rapacious, ebony eyes. Gods that cherry lipstick of hers was to die for! Just imagining those glossy DSLs wound around his hankering phallus, as she leisurely sucked away, made him want to spurt right on the spot.

"How about a fucking slap across the face?!" She ruddily fumed, whereby her husband flinched in a rare display of fright. "You know, you're such an asshole! You don't like me rubbing lipstick on your face, but you're more than happy to have it on your cock, right?!"

"That's because no one can see my-"

"You're right, they can't see it." Bulma cut him off. "But they can still see my lips and believe it or not, sometimes it's pretty obvious when a girl's hitting it below the belt, especially with a cock as big as yours."

"Okay, okay fine!" He quickly relented, blushing profusely at her shameless evaluation of his renowned length. "But you'd better not rush this. I want this to last for at least a good five minutes."

"Well if that's the case, I suggest you stop talking and get your ass inside, cause the clock's ticking."

Not needing to be told twice, the Prince rushed into the door nearby, Bulma hot on his heels.

"Hey, I've got an idea." The heiress grinned. "Something that'll make this way more fun. Hold on a second." She went back into the room and brought her I-Pad over.

"What's this for?" The Prince asked, crinkling his brows.

"Last month, I had a private photo shoot done, during my trip to North City and- well- let's just say I didn't have any clothes on."

"What?!" Vegeta sucked in a breath, his face going beet-red. "How could you show yourself to others like-"

"Relax, Vegetables." The heiress rolled her eyes. The Saiyan scowled at the vexatious sobriquet. "The photographer happened to be a woman, so you've nothing to worry about- although now that I think about it, she may have shown a little too much interest." She let out a few tremulous laughs. "Not that I can really blame her of course hehe."

"Whatever, stop talking." Vegeta growled, snatching her I-Pad. His eyes practically bulged out of his sockets, as he sifted through indecent images of his wife, one after another. How could she depict herself like that- to anyone?! Despite any objections he may have had, however, he had to admit that it really got his gears rolling. He decided that this would make good jerk-off material, whenever Bulma wasn't around- not that she needed to know of course, else he'd never hear the end of it.

"Alright I guess it's time." The raunchy heiress went behind her husband, caressing his protruding pectorals with her dainty left hand, while her dexterous right brushed his washboard abs. She marvelled at the way his skin prickled in response to her tantalizing touch. After all the years, her effect on him hadn't mitigated in the slightest. "Whoa, that one's crazy hot." Bulma sensually murmured in Vegeta's ear, as he came across a shot of her stretching her toned leg high into the air, a perfectly straight angle lined along her crux. The Prince's stomach wound up tight, at the sultry sound of her titillating voice in conjunction with the alluring image. "Keep going." Vegeta did just that, eyes glued to the screen, as he flicked through the erotic gallery with a trembling finger, heart racing all the while. Most of the poses were rather simplistic variations of her lying on the sofa and coyly peering into the camera, but what really aroused him was the way she would cover her forbidden areas, in some mock-semblance of modesty- as if she even knew the meaning of that word.

The heiress embarked on a steady journey towards the South and finally slipped her hand inside Vegeta's grey, drawstring pants, wrapping her nifty digits around his engorged length, whereby he let out an amorous groan of pleasure. Slowly, she began stroking back and forth, kneading just the right spots. The Saiyan's onyx eyes fluttered, as a white-hot current of electricity jolted through his throbbing staff. Oh God, did he even need the I-Pad anymore when he had the real deal working him towards the heavens?! Bulma ground herself against him and he ran a hand along the galvanizing length her naked leg, reveling in the invigorating feel of her perfect, porcelain skin. Oh God, he wanted to do so many things with her right now, but sadly time wouldn't allow it.

A short while later...

"That was- rejuvenating." The placid Prince let out a rare, euphoric laugh, as a volley of endless endorphins swam along the cooling thoroughfares of his tranquil bloodstream.

"This isn't fair, you know." Bulma grumbled peevishly, arms akimbo. "You've been thinking about yourself the whole time, but now you've gotten me all hot-and-bothered and I can't do anything, cause the gang'll be here any minute now."

"Hn." Vegeta was barely listening, instead reveling in the jubilant aftermath of the stimulating session.

"You owe me big time, Vegeta." The heiress frowned, a determined look on her face, which tacitly said that a debt was owed and that she would be collecting. "Once the party's over, you're gonna be my personal fuck toy for the entire night, you got me? You won't even be allowed to breathe, without my permission." She resolutely vowed. "I swear to God, I'm gonna do unspeakable things to you!"

"Do your worst." The Saiyan grinned, readily accepting her demand. Gods, it was so hot the way she took charge like that, this fucking sexy bitch. At times like this, he wondered how he'd ever endured life, without her.

"Oh I will, don't you worry."

Not long afterwards, Bulma and Trunks were finally done decorating the Christmas tree with a colorful set of glistening stars, bells, baubles and other trinkets, all linked together with a gleaming, gold tinsel.

"Uh, mom?" The tremulous boy asked.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"I- uh- I was just wondering." He anxiously bit his lip. "What was dad doing to you in the bedroom, earlier?"

"Trunks, I really can't talk about it." She answered sheepishly, face flushed. "You see, it's a grown up-thing. Please do me a favor and forget whatever it is you saw."

"I'll try." He awkwardly mumbled, following a pregnant pause, hoping against hope that he could rid himself of the disturbing images flitting across his tormented and traumatized mind.

Seconds later, Vegeta walked by, holding Bra in his arms. The baby turned towards her mother, gaping in wonderment.

"Mom so pwitty!" She rhapsodizded, grinning wide.

"Aw thanks pumpkin." Bulma patted her cheek. She was going to kiss her, but then remembered that she had lipstick on and that wouldn't be good for either of them. Just then the doorbell rang and Bulma answered it, met by Krillin and co. on the other side.

"My God, Bulma." Eighteen gasped, as she slowly looked her up and down, drinking in the stunning, spellbinding sight of her dreamy, divine dress and the alluring anatomy that came with it. Boy, if she weren't hetero she didn't know if she would have the willpower to hold herself together in a situation like this. "You always did have a striking sense for fashion."

"Thanks L." She winked, bubbling inwardly at the praise. The heiress had recently taken to calling the once-human "L", in reference to her birth name, Lazuli. Eighteen didn't object. With an embrace, she led the cheerful family inside. The guests began rolling in one after the other, all mesmerized by Bulma's grandiose gown.

"Wow Bulma, that's an amazing outfit you got on." Videl remarked, in absolute awe. "Makes you look at least fifteen years younger."

"Thanks Videl, you're looking really hot yourself." She grinned. Her sexual frustrations from before were steadily forgotten, as she revelled in the major ego-boost she received from each and every one of her friends. The sexy scientist knew then that she'd definitely chosen well.

"Gosh Bulma, just seeing you right now, I kinda wish that I hadn't let Vegeta snatch you away from me, know what I mean?" Yamcha jested.

"Hey Bulma, you're looking mighty fine there, kiddo hehehe." Master Roshi grinned lasciviously, his prurient gaze fixated upon her exquisitely enticing bust. "I just wanna get my hands all over-"

"You want to die old man?!" Vegeta snarled, pinning the terrified Turtle Hermit to the wall, his flaming head of hair turning gold of its own volition, eyes a deathly teal.

"E-E-Easy there, V-Vegeta." The ribald geezer stammered, panic-ridden rivulets of perspiration streaming down his forehead, as he was beset with unabated horror.

"You'd better keep your eyes to yourself, unless you wish to be emasculated!"

"Okay, okay!" Roshi frantically waved his hands in surrender, not wanting to lose the most treasured chunks of his anatomy.

Other than that unfortunate incident, the event had gone by rather smoothly. Come dinnertime, a resplendent selection of dishes were lined up along the centre of a long, oaken, refectory table: grilled mackerel, barbecued t-bones, chicken wings, breast fillets and thigh fillets, fried eggplant with a side of marinara, wonton noodle soup, shawarma, pho and a giant, oven-baked turkey, enriched and marinated with the finest seasonings known to man. As they crew basked in the mouthwatering meals before them, a series of conversations were struck up, smiles and laughter ringing across the genial atmosphere of Capsule Corporation.

"Hey Trunks, you're been acting weird all day." Goten frowned at his best friend once dinner was over.

"Sorry Goten." The lavender-haired boy blushed, standing in a corner all by his lonesome. "It's just- I think I saw something that I wasn't supposed to see."

"Really?!" Goku's youngest perked up, in excitement. "Was it a big scary monster?!"

"No, you idiot." Trunks snorted. "Seriously, is that all you ever think about? God, you're such a child." He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, this is kind of awkward, but- uh- have you ever noticed your parents doing anything- you know- weird?"

"Gee, I don't know Trunks." Goten tilted his head up, musing. "But now that I think about it, I did hear some strange noises coming from their room the other night."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I asked mom about it and she told me that it's a grown-up thing."

"That's exactly what my mom said." Trunks sighed.

"Hey, I've got it!" Goten grinned. "They were probably fighting monsters together, in secret!"

"Uh- yeah, maybe I guess." The older half-Saiyan let out a guilty chuckle, somewhat glad that at least his younger counterpart was able to preserve his innocence.

"Wow, that's so cool!" Goten enthused.

"Uh huh, that's one way to put it."

Supper never failed to cheer up Trunks, no matter his mood and this time, it was no different. Strawberry trifle, flan pudding, creme brûlée, fresh glazed donuts, millie crepes, black forest cake and cookie dough ice-cream were on the menu, along with a vibrant variety of other dessert specials, all of which made the demi-Saiyan overlook his horrible, harrowing experience. As he indulged himself, Bra came along and he placed her on his lap, sharing food from his own plate with the giddy girl.

"Wow, you actually got me something, Vegeta?" Goku beamed, as he graciously accepted the present being offered up by his cantankerous rival. "That's a first." He untied the red ribbon and began to open up his gift. "You know, it amazes me how much you've changed over the years, especially since- AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!" The Saiyan abruptly yawped, tossing away the object before him as though it were an unpinned grenade and huddling fearfully against the farthest corner he could find. The other crew members looked on in bafflement, wondering what could've triggered such a frightful response from Earth's dauntless hero.

"Oh." Gohan was the first one to put the pieces together, as he noticed a giant syringe inside the box that his father had just thrown.

"That is not funny Vegeta!" Goku groused indignantly, though his flame-haired rival felt otherwise, clutching his stomach and guffawing loudly at the younger Saiyan's expense. Vegeta's mirth was practically contagious and very soon, the entire clique was howling with laughter, well- except Goku of course, who glowered at the lot of them. How could they treat a legitimate grievance, so facetiously? Didn't they realize how dangerous and horrific those needles were?! He still had nightmares to this very day, following his traumatic experience at Wukong Hospital.

All in all, it turned out to be a wonderful day for the motley bunch. The farewells were delivered and the guests left the capsulated complex, smiling and sated. And now came Bulma's piece de resistance. The enlivened heiress was thrilled and overjoyed at the prospect of having Vegeta to herself for the rest of the night. He was hers to do with as she pleased and oh boy, did she have some wonderful, kinky ideas in mind.

A/N: Gotta say, I really enjoyed writing the Vegeta/Bra stuff, but also the family moments in general and let's not forget Bulma's handiwork, if you know what I'm Saiyan xD. Please leave me your thoughts and hit the review button and be sure to check out NekoLover628's awesome art, for she is a very fine artist indeed! :D

#christmas #Merry Christmas #vegebul #vegeta #bulma #bra #bulla #dragon ball #Dragon Ball Z #fanfiction #humor #fluff #santa

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