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misterewrites · 3 years

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Cheers from Newton Haven ( Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone E here with a surprising amount original works. haha so you can blame my good friend @hains-mae for this because she enabled me. So long story short I love writing. I love creating ideas, story plots, characters all that jazz. Often there's a lot of leftovers that i put away in word document just so I have stuff to work with or ideas i can use later. Most of the time I might write something just to get it out of my system but it usually just ends up gathering dust in my computer.

I've been getting more into modern urban fantasy stories and watching the unsleeping city which is a modern dnd show (highly recommend it. first season's free on youtube over at the dimension 20 channel) and naturally I wanted to write some so here we go.

I don't know how often I'll be writing this because this accidentally became my side project whenever I need a break from the underground but who knows might turn into another big layered project.

so basic summary is there are a group of friends, associates, reluctant allies, organizations and frenemies who work together to keep the peace of the supernatural world in check and to ensure it remains secret to everyone else while living their lives as best as they can. Today's chapter includes Finnrick Drift a private investigator wizard and his best friend Casey Remington, cleric of the hearth

that's it for me. have a great week! stay safe, take care of each other. wear your mask, wash your hands, get the vaccine if you can and I'll see you soon!

and if you wanna an easier place to read and leave me some good old comments or reviews you find the chapter right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Not gonna lie i promised I’d try to promote myself more and it’s weird. it feels so weird. haha

It was a busy Friday afternoon in Midtown. People in designer named suits and dresses bustled across the sidewalks in all directions, too caught up in last minute phone calls or sudden late night work orders to notice anything else. The buildings that scraped the bottom of the sky were clean with a fresh coat of paint and maintenance, a testimony to the wealth and power that was found here.

So naturally Casey felt as out of place as fish out of water in his purple baseball jersey and black shorts just standing outside some fancy restaurants doors with his friend.

“Finny” Casey started awkwardly, his sea green eyes darting back and forth awkwardly “Any reason we’re out here being creepy? I got a Neighborhood Watch meeting at like 6.”

Finnrick or Finny as Casey referred to him, was no better dress than he was for the environment. A long black trench coat that was more stitching than fabric, a matching frayed faded fedora sitting comfortably on his head. He wore a nice collared dark red shirt tucked in a black vest but even that felt cheap and tacky compared to the thousands of dollars worth of clothing that passed them on the street every second. At least his black dress pants were dark enough to hide the patch up jobs and naturally the only kept squeaky clean were his loafers.

Finnrick sucked on the thin white stick for a moment before speaking up “I’m debating if it’s worth the trouble. I didn’t realize you had a meeting tonight.”

“Well we always meet up on the fifth. You know talking about treaties, clean up jobs, if any undead hordes have been spotted. My birthday cake.”

“Ah shit” Finnrick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his dark brown eyes apologetic “It’s your birthday? Did you want to go? I think I can handle it alone.”

Casey lifted the hat off Finnrick’s head and playfully ruffled his already messy black hair “You getting old Finny. My birthday is the tenth.”

Finnrick waved off his assault “I’m six months younger than you.”

“But” Casey gestured to the smattering of sliver streaks in Finn’s hair “You look older.”

“At least I don’t look like I’m 15. Dude you need a haircut. Everyone here thinks you’re a hippie.”

“A good looking hippie.” Casey gave a dramatic shake, his wavy dark brown hair flowing in the breeze.

The pair burst out laughing, doubling over trying to catch their breath as the business suits eyed them distastefully.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Finnrick made his way over, smiles and charm as they approached the doorman.

“Your cigarette sir.” The doorman spoke dully.

Finnrick pulled out the now finished lollipop “Don’t smoke but done anyway.”

The doorman gestured to the nearby trashcan but Finnrick opt to tuck it away in coat pocket. Disgusted but professional, the doorman gave strained smile as he allowed them entry into the building.

Casey nudged Finnrick curiously “Wizards? Warlocks? God not druids.”

“Probably. This is guy doesn’t have an ounce of magic in him but I wouldn’t doubt he’s got some casters on the payroll. Try not to leave anything behind.”

“I’m a freaking walking carpet here!”

“That” Finnrick grinned playfully “Is why you need haircut.”

Casey gave a fake snarl “Shut up and call the elevator.”

Finnrick whistled, amused by the near silence of the opening doors “Such fance. Barely a sound.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Finnrick scratched the little bush of hair he had on his chin thoughtfully “Ask some questions. Probably get no answers. Be threatened more than likely.

Casey cracked the tension in his neck “Think it’s gonna get ugly?”

“Depends on how many witnesses.”

The two made their way to the seventh floor, the elevator smoothly slowing to a stop before the doors opened with a ding. Two burly men in suits were waiting, flanked on either side as they gestured to an empty restaurant dining room.

“The boss will like to speak to you.”

Finnrick and Casey shared a look.

“Sure!” Finnrick beamed cheerfully, patting both the brutes arms as he passed “I was hoping to talk to him anyway.”

The men growled in annoyance but did nothing as Casey and Finnrick made their way to the center talk, unsurprised to find two glasses of wine waiting for them.

“After you” Finnrick joked, pulling out Casey’s chair for him.

Casey gave a mocking smile “Such a gentleman.”

“Only one I bet” Finnrick whispered before taking his seat.

Casey could hear the low hissing of whatever spells were on their chairs being dispelled.

Yep there was going to be trouble.

Casey eyed the room carefully in search for options: The room itself was pretty dark, dark reddish walls with dim lights to set the mood. Most of the tables had been left alone for whatever event this room was scheduled for later with the chairs stacked in the corner. A few feet to their left was the bar, unmanned but well stocked and a window to the outside nearby.

“Well, well, well!” A voice called out from some shadowy part of the room “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting this fine Friday afternoon?”

Finnrick rose to his feet, politely motioning to himself and Casey “My name is Fredrick and this is my friend Charles.”

The man’s hazel eyes shone with suspicion “No last names?”

“Of course” Finnrick grin “But there’s no need for friends, right? We are friends Robert?”

Robert paused, a barely contained rage shimmering just under the surface. His slicked back graying hair and tailored perfect dark blue suit were signs of a precise, irrational control. This was a man that was never told what to do and considered himself above everyone and anyone.

“Of course.” He answered a moment too late. He was not happy. “Of course. What are polite manners among friends?”

“Thanks Bobby!” Finnrick gave a friendly wink before retaking his seat.

Robert fumed but followed Finnrick’s example as a trio of secret service wannabes took their spots across the room: Inhumanly beautiful men with dark suits and shades. Something was off about them but Casey couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What do I owe the pleasure Freddy?” Robert sneered, hoping to see how Finnrick a taste of his own medicine.

“Well Bobby.” Finnrick went on, purposely ignoring the older man’s jab “As you know you have been stealing countless money from your employees.”

Robert chuckled darkly “I am afraid wherever you have been getting this claim is very misinformed. I am a simple, honest businessman.”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Of course. Of course. That’s how you can say that with a straight face. Honest businessman of mundane practices.”

Casey felt his hair on his arm stand on end as the atmosphere in the room tensed. The brutes growled unhappily, the trio of bodyguards shifted uneasily and Robert’s eyes shone with understanding.

“I see.” He spoke simply “You’re from the other side.”

“Naturally.” Finnrick confirmed “No need to peer around the bush, is there?”

“No need at all. It is refreshing for such transparency. You don’t get that often in the world of business.”

“I doubt you give much either Mister Walker.”

“Enough games. What are you doing here? Some kind of union rep for magical freaks? Blackmailing me?”

Finnrick sat up with pride “Private investigator. Building a case against you actually.”

Robert carefully studied both men before him, trying to piece together their plan, their angle.

“Either.” He spoke after a few moments “You have all you need or more than likely you have nothing and you are simply here to smoke me out, hoping I will give you something to use against me.”

Casey felt Finnrick’s hand move underneath the table and a rush of chilly air brushed his leg.

Casey gave a quick nod to let Finn know he understood.

Finnrick cleared his throat “You’re aware of the works of Tolkien Mister Walker?”

Robert was caught off guard “What?”

“Elves.” Finnrick answered with a calming voice “Elves are the most famous of his characters that aren’t humans of course but there’s more: Elves, dwarves...”

“Hob…” Robert began but Finnrick cut him off.

“That’s a legal matter but yes. Wonderfully fantastic creatures.”

Robert narrowed his eyes “And?”

Finnrick leaned in close, smile mocking and cold “I hate when people take advantage of them.”

Robert was a cold, calculating heartless man who was used to being the smartest one in the room. The one who rigged the playing field in his favor, held every ace in his hand and led his prey exactly where he wanted them to be. He played with people before he destroyed their hope. He was the apex predator in the world of business.

It was satisfying to see that swagger and pride drain out of his face.

The businessman went for the button hidden underneath his side of the table, no doubt the switch to trigger the holding spells on Casey and Finnrick’s chairs. Of course Finnrick had dispelled them first chance he got and since the only other caster in the room was Casey, no one else noticed.

Robert’s face was the second most beautiful thing Casey had ever seen (first being Jaime but there was no need to tell her that). The panic, the fear, the utter confusion. Just poetic justice at its finest.

Finnrick shot to his feet with a surprising speed given his unremarkable build. He muttered the words of power, a magical incantation as his hand made the proper gestures to complete the spell.

The shades squad went for their weapons but Finnrick had gotten the drop on all of them. He pulled his hand back, a burning flame sitting peacefully in his palm. He pitched the flame forward, lobbing directly at the closet goon. The inhumanly beautiful man rose his arms to defend himself in time. The flame, mostly pressurized air, splashed over him harmlessly as the force of the attack shoved him back into the wall.

Casey followed Finn’s example. He stood as well (not as quick as his friend), a soft gentle light glowing from his hands. He glanced at the two remaining shades and aimed directly for them. A bolt of pure light burst forth from his palms. One goon got a chest full of holy energy and skidded backwards but the other was ready. He leapt to the side and narrowly avoided the attack as he slid out of sight.

The brutes charged towards the pair, murder in their eyes. Finnrick barely spared them a look as he snapped his finger. The two flames sigils he had imprinted om them when he grabbed their arms ignited, twin fires eating at their sleeves and sending them into a panic.

“What’s the plan?” Casey shouted, sending more holy bolts towards the shades.

“Up and over the counter.” Finnrick answered, tossing another fireball.

Casey quickly made his way closer, prepping to leap over the bar when Finnrick crashed into him, a strange whistling sound piercing his ears one moment then silent the next.

“Over buddy over!” Finnrick repeated, grabbing Casey by the collar and heaving him ontop of the counter. Casey flailed for a moment before glancing backwards. Finnrick was right behind him, hand outstretched as a blue translucent field of protective magic hung before the two while the shades opened fire with crossbows, the jet black bolts barely visible in the dimness of the room. They bounced harmlessly off the barrier but Casey could see the cracks starting to form.

Casey hopped over the bar gracelessly, struggling for a moment before clearing the jump. Finnrick tucked himself backwards, allowing himself to roll over the counter top and land on the other side with a thud.

“Remember when elves were honorable?” Casey huffed, quickly scanning the various bottles.

Finnrick scoffed “They were never honorable. They just acted better than everyone.”

“Remember when we were kids?”

“Vaguely. Pass the absinthe. I want to really make this hurt.”

“Blue bottle? These are all in German and Russian.”

“Green liquid. Come on Case I taught you better.”

“Right. I miss when the cartoons used to tell us the mafia was honorable.”

“Criminals these days.” Finnrick shook his head disappointingly “Just don’t make them like they used to. It’s all corporate shit.”

Casey began picking other bottles at random, wrapping them tightly with the tape he brought “It’s disillusioning I tell you. How right is he?”

Finnrick smashed a pane of glass. He took the jagged edge and slowly inched it over the counter, catching sight of the trio of shades for a moment before a crossbow bolt shattered the glass.

He flexed his hand, trying to relax his muscles. They were elves alright. They might be dressed in suits and ears hidden by some sort of glamour illusion magic but old habits died hard. Elves habits never died given their long lives. The trio had fallen into a close knit triangle formation: one fires, one reloads with the last taking aim.

“He had this whole operation locked tight. No one was talking. Either bribed them or made an example of them. Broken bones or horns. I had enough evidence to implicate him but bringing him to trial in the mundy court was going to be pointless.”

Casey moved the bottles back and forth to ensure they wouldn’t come loose midair “So what are we doing here?”

“Given his limited knowledge and the numerous magical violations I counted in this building alone, I figured he’s not registered with the Council.”

Casey’s eyes lit up in understanding “Gotcha. How long we got?”

Finnrick shook his hand back and forth “I’d say 10 minutes knowing the Council. Magic in an unregistered area requires a subtler approach for them. “

Casey snorted “Fake beards and stilts for the gnomes you mean? Robert will be gone by then.”

Finnrick’s face scrunched in concentration “He’s still here. Cowering under the table. He’s not used to dangerous wizards up in his face. Let’s scare him put huh?”

Casey spared his friend a glance “Big shot?”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Aim high Case.”

And with a synchronicity only achieved through years of friendship, the two stood up at once. Casey threw the makeshift bomb high into the air as Finnrick formed the magical shield once more. Arrow after arrow bounced harmlessly off its surface as the bottles sailed through the air. Finnrick focused directly in the center of the payload. The shield dropped but the elves had broken formation and were all reloading at once. Finnrick pinched his thumb and finger together, murmuring under his breath. A small spark of flame fluttered wildly on his finger. He flicked it as quickly as he could towards the bottles. The spark spun and twisted as it floated towards the payload. The spark expanded, growing in size, and intensity, rapidly without warning. The air warmed as the spark exploded, smashing the bottles and engulfing the alcohol within. Flaming liquid, glass and hot air shot out in every direction. The elves were blasted off their feet and crashed against the far wall with sickening series of crunches. The floor above now had a massive hole in it and the brutes sprawled across the floor. Robert himself was thrown onto the ground, ash and soot covering his face as he struggled to breath.

He tried to call for someone but his ears were ringing and everyone was down for the count. He tried to search for the trouble makers but the smoke that filled the room was too thick.

The elevator dinged open once more and three pale suits came scuttling out. They clung to the walls on all fours, unnatural and repulsive. Their blood red eyes shone in the dimly light room, their fangs barred and ready for blood.

“Vampires!” Casey rubbed his eyes tiredly “This fucker has vampires. Loose by the way.”

“Right?” Finnrick shook his head “There are just so many regulations being violated right now.”

The vampires did not care. They dropped to the floor, gliding effortlessly midst the smoke and flame.

Casey took a step closer to the encroaching undead. He outstretched one hand towards them while the other clasped his necklace tightly. The vampires tilted their head quizzically at the symbol that adored the chain: It was a house of all things, a simple shape of rectangles and triangles no different than what a child would draw.

The vampires chuckled, their eyes bright with hunger.

Of course in their bloodlust they had forgotten something important: It was not the symbol but the faith behind it that was their bane.

Casey held the symbol as high as he could. The vampire shrunk away from him as his eyes blazed with holy energy, the symbol of home glowing with a harsh light. The vampires barred their fangs as a symphony of noises overwhelmed their senses: the soft hum of an air conditioner, footsteps thundering about, the chill of winter, the heat of summer, the overlapping sounds of cars and buses as the roar of crowds boomed in their ears. The city, the hearth of so many people, filled this room for a moment.

The vampires drew back, white smoking curling off their charring flaky skins. They ducked back into the elevator, hiding in whatever corner they could manage until the doors shut with a satisfying ding.

“Come on” Finnrick gestured to the window “I don’t want to be written up for unauthorized magic in an unregistered area.”

Casey and Finnrick scampered to the window. Casey’s face turned a sickly green when he realized how high up they were.

“Ugh I don’t feel good.” his stomach churned queasily.

Finnrick broke the window with his elbow, the fresh smoggy air of the city bringing some color back into Casey’s cheeks “I know buddy but it’s only eight floors up.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Okay cool jump now!”

Robert regained enough sense to see the troublemakers leap out the window without hesitation. He struggled to his feet when flickers of something began to form. Before he knew what was going on, the previously empty room was now filled with various creatures: Elves, dwarves, a gnome on silts had appeared out of thin air. They weren’t dress in any ancient medieval garb but rather dark blue jackets, jeans and combat boots with the initials M.R.R.D stitched on their clothing. They were no different than any one on the street aside their more unique physical features.

“M.R.R.D!” the gnome cried out, brandishing a strange clockwork pistol “Everyone freeze! We sensed a magical disturbance and a violation of the Arcane Veil!”

Robert rose to his full height “I am Robert Walker and I…”

The gnome opened fire and Robert could feel exhaustion overtake him. Sleepiness began to ebb at his resolve and before he could mutter another word, he closed his eyes. A dreamless sleep until he woke up in a council prison cell a few hours later.

-----

Casey didn’t scream as he fell through the air. He was too busy trying to keep his lunch in his stomach.

Finnrick waited a moment to make sure everything was in place and with a wave of his hand, the two began to fall much slower. They landed on their feet as if they had taken a step off the sidewalk instead of several stories up.

Casey began hyperventilating, trying his best to get his stomach settled. Finnrick began fanning his face when a man walked up to him.

Casey and Finnrick said nothing, waiting for the Arcana Veil to fill in any blanks they were missing. They could’ve told this man anything but they found from experience that it was just easier to roll with whatever the magical blanket that separated the mundane world from the magical decided.

The man peered at them, his gaze unsure and confused.

“Hey, you guys okay?” he asked helpfully.

Casey and Finnrick remained silent.

His eyes glazed over for a moment, a strange shimmering sheen within his pupils telling the duo that the veil was in effect.

“You guys are oddly dressed for window washers.” the man chuckled.

Finnrick glanced back to find a ghostly image of an electrically operated scaffold behind them, water buckets and squeegees included.

They shared a look.

“Would you believe it’s national window washer day?” Casey filled in.

Finnrick added “Yeah, they let us wear whatever want today. It’s only one day out of the year anyway and most of the time we work by ourselves so no harm done.”

the man nodded like that was the most reasonable thing he had ever heard “Right sorry. I’ll just be on my way.”

Finnick and Casey ducked out of the alleyway behind him, heads low and nonchalant as the human M.R.R.D members began to shut down the restaurant from the outside.

“Well that sucked.”

“Just a little. Here let’s go some dinner on me.”

“Damn straight on you Finny. Brutes, elves, vampires?”

“Oh my.”

“Now I’m ordering extra bread for that.”

#Original Work #original story #my work #Mirrors edge story

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cankarmawrite · 3 years

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11 for pikeleth, or 15 for beauyasha?

11. things you said when you were drunk (pikeleth)

“Wow, you’re reeeeally cute…”

The gnome’s cheeks, already rosy from being out in the cold, darkened in response to Keyleth’s slightly slurred compliment.

“Piiiike, you were right about needin’ mittens!” Grog lamented loudly, looking briefly at the small, well-bundled gnome perched atop right shoulder, the other shoulder was currently occupied by Keyleth’s lanky form as she’d had a little too much fun at the Winter’s Crest Market earlier and was now sporting a sore ankle.

After indulging in one too many mugs of Vax’s Spiked Hot Cocoa, Keyleth started arguing with Percy about what tricks both of them could still land after years away from the skating world. Both of them had skated for a while during their childhood- though Keyleth skated well into high school- so the rest of Vox Machina watched amusedly as both of them took to the fairly empty ice rink in the center of the Winter’s Crest Market.

Despite the slightly wobbliness that came with being tipsy, Keyleth landed a surprisingly solid double lutz- though Pike wasn’t sure of the terminology- much to everyone’s surprise. However, the jump wasn’t the cause of her sprained ankle. No, it was what happened after she landed the jump. Keyleth had thrown her arms up victoriously after landing on a single skate, but she was a bit tipsy and wasn’t paying much attention to what might be behind her still gliding body.

Pike hadn’t even had time to shout a warning before she watched Keyleth hit the wall of the ice rink and flip backward in a wild flail of limbs before landing in a pile on the other side of the wall.

Vox Machina and a few bystanders rushed to check on Keyleth, and a sigh of relief was heard all around when Keyleth sat up laughing heartily with twigs and leaves sticking out of her copper curls and her earmuffs acting more like an eye patch. The fall had just left a few sore spots here and there, but when Vex and Vax offered their hands to help Keyleth up she’d immediately walked forwards- forgetting she was wearing skates- and rolled her ankle after two steps.

Despite Keyleth’s protests Pike found a first aid kit and spent a few minutes wrapping and splinting Keyleth’s bruising ankle, blushing the whole time as Keyleth babbled aimlessly about figure skating and how good of a doctor Pike was. She had always been prone to rambling, but when she was tipsy it was a whole new level of talkative.

The rest of Vox Machina stuck around long enough for Pike to finish wrapping Keyleth’s ankle before they began saying their good-nights and heading back to their respective homes, it was getting late enough and some people unfortunately had work in the morning. Pike asked Grog to carry Keyleth back to her place, much to the delight of the giggly Keyleth, and the trio had set off down the quiet streets of Whitestone.

Logistically it made sense, seeing as Pike’s place was closer and Keyleth was in no shape to be hopping around her studio apartment trying to take care of herself, but of course those weren’t the only reasons Pike wanted to spend a little more time with Keyleth.

Unbeknownst to the rest of Vox Machina, Pike and Keyleth had technically been on their tenth date tonight. They weren’t necessarily trying to hide the fact that they were dating from their friends, rather that they wanted a chance to explore their feelings for each other before the rest of their found family started meddling. No one seemed to notice the gooey looks they shared, nor the way they reached for each other whenever they were together (everyone else had definitely noticed but continued to act as if they didn’t see the very poorly veiled affection).

The sight of her apartment building pulled Pike from her recollection of the night and she rolled her eyes at Grog’s complaining. “I told you how cold it was gonna get this morning when you texted me,” Pike reminded gently, waving sheepishly at the front desk attendant who just chuckled at the sight of Keyleth thrown over Grog’s shoulder.

---

“Do you need another ice-pack?”

Pike turned her attention from the movie playing on TV to where Keyleth was now comfortably lounging on the couch with her foot propped up on an ottoman and a few pillows.

The red-head scrunched her nose up in thought and wiggled her toes a few times before shaking her head, “No. Still nice and cold...but now everything else is cold.” Keyleth said with a pout.

She was readying herself to get another blanket from the basket in the corner when she noticed that Keyleth was opening the blanket she was wrapped in and motioning for Pike to snuggle in. Baby-blue eyes widened in surprise and the gnome found herself frozen to the spot for a few seconds before she shuffled over to Keyleth’s side. The sudden grip of hands around her waist made Pike squeak in surprise, her rounded cheeks flushing a deeper pink when Keyleth set her down in her lap so she still faced the TV.

“You’re warm Pikey…” Keyleth murmured as she wrapped the blanket back around both of them and snuggled further into the cushions.

Pike didn’t reply to that because she honestly felt like her brain was two seconds from melting like warm chocolate because it felt like she was being wrapped in a hug made of pure sunshine.

Golly, she liked Keyleth so much.

---

“I had sooo much fun tonight,” The red-head murmured a while later as the credits scrolled across the screen. Pike hummed in agreement before stiffening as Keyleth sleepily pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

The gnome was glad she wasn't facing Keyleth right now because her cheeks were a cherry red. Pike knew touch could be difficult for Keyleth and physical affection was usually very hit or miss, so right now felt even more precious to her.

“I did too,” Pike said sweetly, turning to bury her face in the crook of Keyleth’s neck as she yawned. When her nose met the smooth and freckled skin there she paused and let the familiar scent of Keyleth’s favorite perfume- a simple one that smelled of vanilla with the soft background scent of campfire smoke- wash over her and soothe her nerves. This would be such a nice place to fall asleep.

“I like you so much,” Keyleth whispered conspiratorially, pulling back to look in the eye as she continued, “Do you like me, Pike?”

The gnome laughed lightly and cupped Keyleth’s cheek with a single hand, “I like you, Keyleth. Why don’t we get ready for bed? I have rounds at 8:30 and you have a hurt foot so we both need our sleep.” Keyleth grumbled indistinctly and let Pike slip out of her grasp. “I’ll grab the air-cast from the freezer so you can sleep more comfortably. I’m telling you, it’s the most genius invention! A splint and ice-pack at the same time?”

There was a soft tug on Pike’s wrist and she turned back to see Keyleth bent over at the waist, her verdant eyes shining so brightly in the LED light of the television.

“I don’t think I’m moving off this couch, Pikey. I can sleep here...Look, I’m already doing it…” Keyleth gradually laid herself across the couch- despite Pike’s protests- and opened the blanket again, beckoning Pike to join her open the couch. There was a dopey, sleepy smile on Keyleth’s face and a look in her eyes Pike had never seen before.

She sighed heavily before holding up a single finger, telling Keyleth to wait as she retrieved the air-cast from the freezer. “Future Keyleth” of tomorrow morning would thank “Now Pike” for insisting on getting the air-cast, she just didn’t know it yet.

Keyleth let Pike fuss over her ankle again, wincing every now and again as she unwrapped the injured joint and slid on a compression sleeve before carefully adjusting the air-cast that now cradled her foot in gel ice packs and stiff plastic to immobilize it.

When she could delay no longer, Pike flipped off the lights and shuffled back to the couch where a half-asleep Keyleth smiled and reached out with a single han. Pike let herself be led onto the couch, settling on her side and shutting her eyes so she wasn’t tempted to look at Keyleth’s face laying inches from her own.

After a few moments of silence she heard rustling as Keyleth leaned forward and brushed the softest kiss against her cheek.

Before she had the chance to talk herself out of it, Pike turned her head so their lips met briefly, fleetingly. Keyleth looked like she was thinking about asking for another but after she had to pull back to yawn so widely her jaw cracked, she sighed and tucked her arm under head. “That doesn’t count, Pikey. ‘M too sleepy and tipsy to appreciate it.”

“Well, then kiss me goodbye when I leave for work, and be here when I get back. We can have a do-over.” Pike explained, smiling in the dark as she turned over and tucked herself into the curve of Keyleth’s form.

“Goodnight, Keyleth.”

“G’night, Pike. Love you.”

Keyleth wasn’t awake enough to notice how Pike’s breath hitched in her chest, and perhaps she wouldn’t even remember it in the morning, but the gnome gathered her courage and replied to the quiet room, “Love you too.”

#pikeleth #critical role writing #critical role au #modern au #writing prompt #cute winter first dates #ice skating #pike trickfoot #keyleth of the air ashari #nd keyleth #critical role fanart #wlw fic #they get a do over #so gay and so cute

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rolanberry-rebel · 3 years

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Windows to the Soul

With one look into the eyes, a clever negotiator can see everything - hesitation, fear, anxiety, hubris. Few things help you distinguish the wheat from the chaff like the eyes.

As a little girl, the other kids in the neighborhood relentlessly teased Maritsa - for her scrawny stature; how her parents’ poverty left her to wear dirty rags in the street, but more than anything they teased her for her eyes - one hazel-brown and one emerald-green. To some simply a genetic quirk, but children are relentless, searching for any strangeness, any insecurity to single out and antagonize other children over.

As soon as she'd found enough gil lying in gutters to afford a pair, Maritsa began buying shaded spectacles to keep her deformity hidden. She learned young that with her eyes hidden, her pained reactions - frowns, tears - lost a key component of their meaning; with no subtle shift of the eyes from which to derive wicked joy, the children’s teasing began to subside. A pragmatic accessory she’d picked up as a mask against her tormentors began instead to alienate her peers - and, eventually, as Maritsa’s quick mind and ruthlessness expanded, they became a symbol of fear among the local children.

Now, Maritsa kir Vesicus had long ago abandoned those simple, cheap sunshades, trading them in for a molded-metal visor, its gold-flecked steel shrouding her odd-colored eyes completely. A trio of red lights fed the world in perfect detail into a viewscreen, filtering and looping and zooming and giving Maritsa both sight and insight greater than even the keenest pair of real eyes could. More importantly, though, they read Maritsa’s eyes - and with subtle twitches and blinks, a series of magitek relays fed orders straight from Mari’s gaze to the bitpack along her waist, granting preternatural control over a technology so powerful she’d not sell it for all the coin in the entire Garlean treasury.

When a man can’t see your eyes he can’t read you. When you’re in the business of negotiating arms sales to some of the most dangerous, bloodthirsty criminals, mercenaries and killers in all Hydaelyn, you need every advantage you can get. Some tried flattery and flirtation, others intimidation, but in the end all of them had a simple choice - pay the price Maritsa wanted, or end up her enemy. You didn’t want to be her enemy.

That fact appears to have escaped the man now standing toe-to-toe with the infamous arms dealer - a roegadyn quartermaster to a crew of pirates, and not the jolly, grog-swilling, sea-chantey types of pirates, either. A mountain of metal and muscle with a scar-crested grin on his face, the fearless lieutenant paced along his deck, inspecting the sleek black crates packed heavy with experimental mortals and magitek aethershells. The haul could easily give even the most cowardly and combat-inept crew the upper hand in a scuff with the Limsan navy, and the crew’s quartermaster appeared pleased.

“The cap’n ‘ad business, but rest assured lassie I act with ‘is full confidence,” the surly marauder barked, the head of his axe a rust-toned red, no doubt meant to intimidate onlookers with imagined tales of bloody battles won. The crew, assembled along the deck behind the quartermaster, whispered among themselves, a few evil grins shared in anticipation.

“Ten million. For one crate,” Maritsa stated flatly, her words giving as few clues as to her mental state as her shrouded eyes offered. Her visor blipped as it readjusted, feeding details of every single movement to the highlander. Her back stiff and her stance unflagging, the scummy laugh her offer elicited did little to dissuade her confident stance.

“Lassie, there’s scarce a cannon in all ‘a blasted Othard worth even one tenth ‘a that,” the quartermaster responded, his words oozing from between his scarred lips. “Yer insultin’ me crew. An’ me cap’n, who’d certainly ‘ave run ye through if he’d heard that. I’ll give ye a few moments to reconsider.”

“Don’t need even another second. Ten million per crate,” Maritsa repeated. The crew grew restless, clearly clamoring to teach the highlander a lesson. The quartermaster lifted a closed fist to calm them.

“Well, by ways of a little thinking, imagine fer me fer a second,” the roegadyn mused darkly. “Imagine a crew ‘o forty ‘a the nastiest, hungriest, dirtiest killers this side ‘a Vylbrand, starin’ ye down wi’ cutlass and pistol, an’ me at the front, each of us takin’ our piece of that ten million out on th’ haughty bitch who dared insult us twice,” he continued, bringing sadistic chuckles from the crew. “What’s t’ stop me from doin’ ‘at instead of payin’ yer ten million, huh?”

“Nothing stopping you from trying,” Maritsa answered, smirking. He couldn’t see the devil in the highlander’s eyes, hidden beneath the visor, which bleeped as it acquired its target. “Except maybe the shriveled little bits of flesh between your legs.”

“Wh-what? Ye little--” that really got him. The quartermaster moved fast, gauntleted fists grasping the haft of his axe and, in a fluid motion, ripping through a soaring arc downward towards the sword-tongued arms dealer. He may have been fast - but Mari was faster. Several minutes faster. She expected this.

All she needed was one look at his eyes.

Shock replaced fury in the roegadyn’s expression as his blade fell harmlessly against a barrier of force, now glowing soft blue at the power of the quartermaster’s brash blow. Safe behind her shield, Mari sighed.

“So predictable, and so boring,” she dismissed him, a subtle movement of her eyes and squeeze of her palm sending the signal to the bitpack at her waist. The device hummed suddenly to life, launching four darting high-power energy relays into the air. Before the quartermaster could blink the relays had surrounded him; each glowed and blipped quietly in sync, and flashed to life, an array of burning light vaporizing the roegadyn so fast he didn’t even have time to scream. When the blinding flash dissipated, only a pair of heat-scoured boots and a trail of dust remained where a towering mountain had once stood. The crew stood in sudden, awed silence as the darting relays floated silently back to their resting place at Mari’s waist.

“Now,” Mari stated plainly, “I’m going to take my crates with me back to the shore. Let your captain know I’m waiting for his response, will you?” she canted her head to the side, a sea of stunned, befuddled eyes watching her every motion. “Tell you what - let him know I’ll even give him a 3-mil discount on each crate, by ways of paying back for the quartermaster. Okay?” Still no response from the terrified crowd. “Hello, anyone?” Annoyed, she scoffed, dragging the mortar crates towards the deck’s rail, clicking a few buttons on her magitek bracer to call in her airship.

“Men,” she murmured, lifting her visor just long enough to roll her eyes at the dumbfounded pirates.

#ffxiv rp #My writing #mari #preliminary cos my understanding of garlean stuff is only rudimentary #she's not an ethnic garlean tho she's as highlander

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disneyat34 · 4 years

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The Three Caballeros at 34

A review by Adam D. Jaspering

Mickey Mouse is, and always has been, the face of the Walt Disney Corporation. Perhaps it’s because of legacy or favoritism, because Donald Duck has often proven himself more popular. To expand on a quote from Walt Disney, it all started with a mouse, but a duck pays the bills. Never was this more apparent than in the 1940s.

As morbid as it seems, World War II was a great boon to Donald Duck’s popularity. Mickey Mouse represented an unflappable, upbeat everyman. He became popular during the Great Depression when people needed their morale lifted. Donald Duck was an angry fighter who got knocked down, and stood right back up, fists swinging. That sensibility was celebrated by many during the war. Seeing the influence he had, Walt Disney capitalized on his creation.

Donald was commissioned by many sources during World War II. The US Treasury, the United Way, and the Canadian Film Board all commissioned cartoons from Disney Studios. His likeness was merchandised in countless other places. Within months, Donald Duck was promoting war bonds and celebrating American resilience coast to coast.

Later, Donald joined the US Army, encouraging enlistment. As an act of patriotism, Disney produced seven of these shorts at cost for the armed forces. Why he opted for Donald to join the Army as opposed to the Navy, as is often suggested by his sailor outfit, is a mystery. Donald wasn’t the official face of the war effort, but not for lack of trying.

In 1944, three separate events lined up. First, World War II was still ongoing. Second, Disney Studios was celebrating Donald’s tenth anniversary. Third, the follow-up to Saludos Amigos was nearing completion. It was time for another cinematic saga of comradery in the western hemisphere, this time featuring Donald Duck front and center.

Saludos Amigos was a rush job. Disney Studios churned it out for immediate financial returns. The writers and animators had unused ideas leftover. Some ideas were more dynamic and required money and time, not available in 1941. Now with a foot-hold on the Latin American film market, the studio was able to make a proper follow-up. That was The Three Caballeros.

The Three Caballeros uses the 10th anniversary of Donald Duck’s creation as a framing device. Throughout the film, Donald opens a multitude of gifts from friends and well-wishers. Each gift prompts or frames a new vignette. Like Saludos Amigos, the vignettes of The Three Caballeros were created to foster international goodwill between Latin America and the United States.

The first gift is a projector and film canister. The movie is The Cold-Blooded Penguin. It features a penguin named Pablo who dislikes living in Antarctica. Pablo hates the cold, and wishes to live in a tropical climate. One day, he pools his resources, and sets out on an ice floe for warmer weather.

Astute readers will notice the error immediately. What on Earth is a cartoon about a penguin doing in a film about Latin America?

It’s true, Pablo’s journey takes him around some of the coastal geographic features of South America’s west coast. These aren’t so much landmarks as name drops. We hear the narrator mention the Straits of Magellan, Cape Horn, Juan Fernandez Islands, Vina Del Mar, Lima, and the Galapagos Islands. But what’s depicted onscreen are rather nondescript landforms. These could be any straits, any coasts, and any islands.

The Cold-Blooded Penguin’s ties to South America are incredibly tenuous. Plainly, it does not belong as part of the film. So much so, it’s not even worth commenting on the animation or story. You could make the greatest rotisserie chicken in culinary history, but if you serve it atop an ice cream sundae, no one will care how the chicken tastes.

The short shamelessly tries to mask itself as an extended cutaway from a larger feature called “Aves Raras,” or “Rare Birds.” The non-penguin half of this short does indeed focus on the indigenous fauna of South America. Somewhat farcically, but also with an informative nugget. This infotainment is what The Three Caballeros aspires to be, and achieves in certain quantities.

Unfortunately, the filmmakers either get lazy or distracted. Strewn among the cultural aspects are nonsense and unsupportive jokes. Either the filmmakers were padding the film or afraid of losing the attention of a younger audience. The end result bogs down quality with unnecessary jetsam.

The highlight of the Rare Birds segment is the Aracuan Bird. This bird has a high-pitched, sped-up voice, and a warbled laugh. He has a screwball sense of humor, and an innate ability to antagonize all those who he comes into contact with. He has a bright red crest, a yellow beak, and oversized eyes. He debuted four years after another cartoon bird with alarmingly similar characteristics: Woody Woodpecker.

Woody Woodpecker first appeared in the 1940 short Knock Knock. Walter Lantz created the character, and licensed him to Universal Studios. The similarities between The Aracuan Bird and Woody cannot be ignored. I can find no information explaining this coincidence. There were no complaints filed, and no legal action by Lantz or Universal. It’s rather unlikely Disney’s animators resorted to plagiarism; we can only assume it was an unintentional, subconscious reproduction.

The Aracuan Bird appears here, and in two more brief scenes. He then disappears for the remainder of the film. One would think he would be a running gag, appearing regularly throughout the movie. Or at the very least, he would be a main feature in his own vignette, his other appearances being callbacks. He would certainly be more on-theme than The Cold-Blooded Penguin.

The Aracuan Bird is an unpleasant reminder that The Three Caballeros was a pile of ideas leftover from Saludos Amigos. He is introduced, then subsequently forgotten. The movie was the production of different animators and writers, working independently. They each had their own ideas, and didn’t seek consultation. These ideas are threaded together as best as possible, but big gaps in style and substance exist.

The next vignette is The Flying Gauchito, set in the pampas of Uruguay. It is the story of a child, looking for the approval of the gauchos of his village. The boy goes on a hunting expedition, finding the rarest game of all: a winged donkey.

The donkey is named ‘Burrito,’ the Spanish word ‘Little Donkey’ (which existed long before the popular Tex-Mex dish). Gauchito returns home with his newly acquired winged steed. Rather than show him off, Burrito is entered in a horse race. It’s one thing to show-off your luck. It’s another thing to demonstrate your worth.

What makes The Flying Gauchito special isn’t its story. Will and determination overcoming the established norms is a common moral. The true strength of the short is its utilization of an unreliable narrator. Gauchito’s journey is narrated by his older self, narrating from an omniscient standpoint in the future. It would be easy for him to tell the story accurately. Instead, he’s forgetful, indecisive, and admittedly unsure of specific details.

This narrative style creates not only a humorous structure, but humorous accompanying animation. Whenever a detail is “corrected” or second-guessed, the corresponding imagery is swapped out. In quick succession, the characters onscreen are left helpless as their world is ad hoc corrected. They must endure a shifting landscape and environment before they can react accordingly. This gives them a sense of instability, like they’re wearing roller skates, or walking a tightrope. It’s an advanced narrative technique, and it’s executed well.

With two and a half shorts finished, Donald Duck moves onto his next present. Inside is his friend and Saludos Amigos costar Jose Carioca. Jose is just as jovial and passionate as ever, but now smoking a giant cigar shamelessly for all children to see. We’re a long way from the warnings of Pleasure Island.

Jose introduces Donald to the Brazilian city of Baia. In a combined mood of nostalgia and admiration, Jose begins a long musical serenade. As his memories and thoughts are manifest to reality, we are swept away in the romantic imagery. The pinks and purples of the city at sunset are wonderfully done.

The two avian friends find themselves at a celebration on the streets of Baia. They’re joined by singer and dancer Aurora Miranda, plus a small army of samba dancers. The interplay of cartoon and human is outdated by today’s standards, but to an audience in 1944, it must have seemed groundbreaking. The technique is used extensively throughout the remainder of The Three Caballeros, and to great effect. It’s a gimmick, but a gimmick employed and accomplished well.

Exiting the glory of Baia, Donald opens his next gift from a stranger in Mexico. The unfamiliarity is temporary. Inside the gift is the loud, ecstatic, pistol-packing Panchito Pistoles. This firebrand is so eager to meet both Donald and Jose, he declares the trio “The Three Caballeros.” Finally, forty minutes into the picture, well past the halfway mark, we meet the last of our title characters.

After a fiery song and dance number, Panchito introduces Donald to the piñata. Panchito identifies it as a Mexican Christmas tradition (The Three Caballeros was scheduled for a December release date). Until this point, Panchito has been a quite vocal and boisterous individual. Hearing him tell a reverent and humble tale of Christmas tradition displays his hidden depths. Panchito could have been a shallow and one-note character. Instead, we see him capable of many things.

Cracking open the piñata, Donald is treated to a tour of Mexico’s most popular sights. Panchito summons a serape, which flies like Aladdin’s magic carpet. The Three Caballeros visit the exotic locales of Pátzcuaro, Veracruz, and Acapulco.

Until this point, both Donald and Jose were nothing more than enthusiastic partygoers. They enjoyed the celebrations and sights of their destinations. And they never shied away from the pleasant company of a gorgeous woman. For whatever reason, upon visiting Mexico, something stirs in the mind of Donald.

Going forwards, every woman Donald encounters is an object of lustful desire. Singing girls, dancing girls, sunbathing girls; Donald wants them all. Jose and Panchito do their best to subtly remind Donald he is a cartoon duck in a G-Rated movie, but Donald is driven by his id.

It’s a common cartoon trope for a character to be so blindsided by a woman’s physical attraction, they lose control. From the works of pre-Hays Code Betty Boop shorts, to the then-contemporary Tex Avery, it was a well-established joke. Donald, however, is completely insatiable and unstoppable. It starts funny, gets ridiculous, and then turns downright disturbing. Donald Duck is insatiably in love with these Latin beauties, and cannot be tamed. It’s a running gag that runs far too long. Panchito shouldn’t have shown Donald a hot beach, he should have shown him a cold shower.

The movie ends in quite an interesting way. Instead of a traditional song and dance number celebrating Mexico, the remaining twenty minutes of film is a surreal, avant garde display. More than ‘Toccata and Fugue’ from Fantasia. More than ‘Pink Elephants on Parade’ from Dumbo. Things are odd, formless, wild, and baffling. And lots of fun.

The Three Caballeros’s primary problem is how unbalanced it is. Any ten minute stretch is vastly different from any other. But it is unbalanced in a linear fashion. As the movie progresses, it becomes more cohesive and more audacious. Things are always building towards the (literally) explosive climax.

It begins with one short that doesn’t belong in the film at all. It moves onto a second short that, while more appropriate, could easily be excised. Jose is introduced, giving the movie more structure and narrative harmony. With him, more advanced animation techniques are employed. Panchito is introduced, giving the film a solid shape and definition. Finally, we’re treated to a grand tour de force. Disney’s animators use every trick to deliver a mindboggling trip for the eyes and ears.

The Three Caballeros as a group existed as Disney second-stringers for many years. Donald Duck remained as popular as ever, but it was rare to see Jose or Panchito acknowledged by the studio. Early in the 21st century, the cult popularity of the film prompted a resurgence for the forgone trio.

The Three Caballeros are featured at the Mexican Pavilion of Epcot Center (despite only one of the three members being Mexican). Don Rosa wrote two sequels for the trio, published in comic form. They’ve appeared in Disney television shows, such as House of Mouse, and 2017′s DuckTales. They even star in their own series on Disney+, where they become globetrotting fantasy heroes.

The Three Caballeros expands on the ideas of its predecessor, Saludos Amigos. A multitude of animation techniques continues the celebration of harmony in the Americas. Music, laughter, and a love of exploration unite us all. While the end result is something of a mixed bag, the highs are demonstrably high. It will stimulate some viewers while outright confounding others. But in the end, the wild, surreal adventure is a voyage worth taking. Hasta luego.

Fantasia Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Pinocchio Bambi The Three Caballeros Dumbo Saludos Amigos

#The Three Caballeros #Walt Disney #Walt Disney Animation Studios #Disney #disney studios #Film Criticism #film analysis #review #movie review #Disney Canon

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floatingpetals · 5 years

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Boys in Blue || Pt. 1

Pairings: cop!Stucky x F!Reader

Warnings: language, frustrated reader(she’s a little ridiculous tbh), road rage(kind of)

Word Count: 2300+

Summary: (Cop AU) There was just one crappy thing after enough that happened to her. It possibly couldn’t get any worse, or so she thought until she saw the dreaded flashes of red and blue behind her. Could things get any worse?

A/N: This idea came to me after such a bad day. I can say this didn’t happen to me, but it would have been ironic if it had. It also might not help that I’ve been watching a lot of Live PD and America’s Dumbest Criminal’s compilations. However, the frustration is and was real. This might only be three parts to this in total for this story as well. I haven’t quite decided yet. Let me know what ya’ll think!! Enjoy!! Also, don’t do what the reader did if you do get pulled over. It might not work out like this lol

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Series Masterlist

Today sucked. This had to be the worse day Y/N ever had to date. First, it started off with her waking up late, almost half an hour later than she should have. It created a snowball effect where she had to rush to get dressed, put on a quick face of makeup, make sure her hair didn’t look crazy and be out the door in less than ten minutes to not get stuck in traffic. Fortunately, she made it with five minutes to spare. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to eat breakfast and she left her lunch bag sitting on the counter beside her cup of coffee she had thrown in the travel mug. Of course, she hadn’t realized she left it behind until she was already on the freeway and couldn’t possibly turn back to get it.

Second, it wasn’t until she sat down that she realized she grabbed two different pairs of black shoes, on with a pointed toe and the other a rounded toe with a cute bow on the top. not something she could exactly hide. She stared blankly at the articles of clothing for a good ten minutes before she let out a heavy sigh. That wasn’t enough to really drag her day down yet. However, once she opened her emails from clients, she knew she was in for a hell of a day. Throw in the constant badgering by her boss and her coworkers poking fun at her flustered and mismatched appearance, Y/N was overwhelmed and nearly in tears by the end of the day.

Now after nearly eight hours of the most grueling day to date at her job, Y/N was trying to get home. There was an accident on the highway, so she hoped to avoid traffic by taking side streets. She was just ready to get out of her mismatched shoes, drink a glass of wine and take a relaxing bubble bath. Apparently, the rest of the world didn’t get that memo.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” She slammed her fist on the steering wheel, screaming out for the tenth time in five minutes. “The speed limits 40! Not 30! Let’s go!”

She had been stuck behind the same jackasses for the past twenty minutes in the middle lane, locked in on both sides by equally frustrate drivers beside her. In all three lanes, there was a trio of cars matching speeds with each other, clearly keeping the traffic back considering there wasn’t a soul in front of them. All while going ten under the posted speed limit. Y/N tried to be patient; she really was. It wasn’t like she was asking them to speed, she really just wanted them to go the damn speed limit. But her nerves were already frayed and if these jerk wads didn’t go, she was seconds from slamming into one of them. Not to mention people kept honking at her for some reason, which only added to her already high level of stress.

“Oh, my sweet fucking lord!” She snarled for the nth time. Finally, the car in the right lane slowed down to turn, giving Y/N a chance to flip on her blinker a few seconds before she switched lanes and went around the 80-year-old woman in her unnecessarily giant Dodge pickup. Putting her foot to the floor, Y/N shot off ahead, finally hitting the speed limit. She switched her blinker back on the to signal her passing back into the middle lane, all while muttering oaths under her breath and keep her speed constant.

She thought she was finally clear; she was right down the street from her left turn to get to her apartment when a black and white Dodge Charger pulled up behind her. She shot a glance down to her speedometer, the little red line one ticks above forty. Surely, he wasn’t going to pull her over for going 42 in 40. Her stomach dropped when she saw the red and blue lights flash on. Of course.

“God damn it!” She cried. Tears started to form in her eyes as she slowly signaled to the right and turned into a parking lot. The cop followed right behind her, stopping two car lengths away. She kept her hands on the steering wheel, willing herself not to burst into tears. This was just icing to the cake.

There was knock on her window, startling her. She took in a deep breath to hope calm herself before she rolled the window down. Any ordinary day she would have swooned over the sight of the man standing beside her car. But today, she wasn’t in the swooning mood.

Standing beside her was a giant officer, his uniform seemingly a size too small stretched over his massive muscles of his arms and chest. The officer's dark hair was shaved close to the sides of his head, the top left longer and slicked back, one stray hair curling on his forehead. His dark glasses hid his eyes, but she couldn’t get over that jawline and cheekbones, strong and unworldly sharp. Alright, maybe she was in the mood for swooning.

“License and registration, ma’am.” His smooth voice sent a shiver down her spine, momentarily short-circuiting her brain. He raised a thick eyebrow, tilting his head to the side when she took too long to answer. “Ma’am?”

Reality crashed around her, and the fury she felt before came rushing back to the surface. The officer instantly noticed her shift, his face hardening as he waited.

“And why exactly am I being pulled over?” She bit, narrowing her gaze at the officer. He didn’t seem slightly deterred, tucking his thumbs into his belt loops.

“Ma’am. License and registration first. Then I’ll tell you why I’ve pulled you over.”

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed her purse from beside her seat and plopped in her lap to dig out her wallet. The officer waited patiently with a hint of amusement as she grabbed her registration from the glove compartment with a huff. Just as she went to hand them to him, she jerked it back.

“Look, I don’t know what possible reason why you decided to pull me of all people over for, but you clearly weren’t paying attention to the two people behind me that were going ten under the speed limit causing the backup, which might I add is illegal and more dangerous than someone switching lanes to get around them. As much as I wanted to make a show of going around those jackasses, I didn’t. I had my blinker on for the two seconds I needed before I safely got into my lane, made sure I was in it before I turned it off. Then when I got back over, I did the same exact damn thing.” She couldn’t stop herself if she wanted to. The officer seemed almost impressed, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline as she continued her tirade.

“I have dash cam footage that can back me up; I did nothing wrong. It also has my speed limit on the video, and I can guarantee you I wasn’t doing anything illegal. None of my lights are out, my license plates are valid, registration is up to date and I have no record. So, I’ll ask you again. What the hell could you possibly be pulling me over for?”

The officer seemed at a loss for words. He shot a look over his shoulder to his partner that appeared behind him, a tall blonde that seemed to be made from the same tree. Where the hell did this precinct get their officers? A modeling agency? He was possibly the next best looking eye candy, that wore a size too small for his build, she’d seen right beside the gorgeous brunette in front of her. The blonde office had pushed his sunglasses up, his bright blue eyes growing wide the longer she went on.

She figured steam was billowing out of her ears at this point. Logically she knew this was the stupidest thing she could have ever done, arguing with a police officer. But this day was out to get her, and she wasn’t going to put up with it anymore. Drop dead gorgeous officers be damned.

“Listen, ma’am-.” The officer started again, laughing softly as he rested his palm on the roof of her car. Y/N wasn’t having none of his honeyed voice.

“Don’t give me any of your bullshit. Why did you decide to pull me over?”

He was quiet, looking over to the second officer who had to step away to laugh in private once again. He let out his own snicker, shaking his head as he pushed his glasses up off his nose. Y/N’s heart stopped when she locked eyes with his eyes, the grey-blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Ordinarily, I would sit here and demand for your license and registration again, but I can tell you’re a handful, aren’t you?”

Y/N glared at him not liking his tone. She gritted her teeth, clenching the steering wheel with one hand and balling up her license and registration in her other. It’s illegal to hit a cop, it’s illegal to hit a cop, she chanted silently to herself.

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself, Barney. I was already in a shit mood, you’re just the lucky one who gets to deal with the brunt of my frustration.”

There was a bark of laughter coming from the blonde officer on the other side of her car, any sort of control slipping away at her quip. Good, at least the blonde had good taste in television shows. The brunette glared at the blonde over the top of the car before returning back to Y/N, a lopsided grin sliding smoothing on his face.

“Alright. We clearly got off on the wrong foot.” Y/N snorted, rolling her eyes. He ignored her and continued. “I’m Officer Barnes, this is my partner Officer Rogers. The reason I pulled you over today isn’t because of you’re driving but because you have a couple bags sticking out of your back passenger door.”

Y/N blinked.

“What?”

He bit his lip and motioned to where Officer Roger was at the other side at the back door. Y/N twisted around to look at the back seat, noticing her reusable grocery bags weren’t sitting on the seat like they should have been. She vaguely remembers opening the door earlier that morning to grab her lunch bag if had been there, and apparently, she missed grabbing them and putting them back before shutting the door on the handles.

Office Rogers tapped the window, pointing at the lock. When Y/N could only stare, her face growing hot from embarrassment, Officer Barnes reached in and hit her unlock button. Officer Rogers opened the back door and gently placed the surprisingly still intact bags on the floor before shutting the door, grinning widely at Y/N as he did.

Y/N slowly faced front, shame and embarrassment washing over her. It took her a second to recover, she mindlessly passed the paper and license through the window to Officer Barnes, who only glanced at her name before returning his attention back on her. Y/N let out a long groaned and buried her face in her hands.

“Oh my god. That’s why people were honking at me.” She whined. it all clicked. Now it was Officer Barnes turn to lose control of his laughter. If she wasn’t so mortified, she’d have melted at the sound of his amusement. “It’s not funny! I just chewed you out for fucking grocery bags! Oh my god! I’m such an idiot!”

“Not an idiot, just a little tightly wound.” Officer Rogers chuckled, now back beside his partner on the driver side. He had a dazzling smile spread on his face, his head tilted to the side as he observed Y/N having yet again another meltdown.

The tears won out, Y/N realizing that she really was a moron and should have just shut up. instead, she put her giant foot in her mouth. The two men’s behavior shifted right along with her, neither liking the tears that fell down her cheeks.

“Hey, okay.” Office Barnes began uncertainly, looking at Office Rogers with wide eyes. He could handle giant drunken men with guns and knives, hell he could handle screaming, hysterical angry women. But a genuinely overwhelmed not mention pretty woman balling her eyes out was a whole different story. “It’s okay. We’re not gonna give you a ticket. It’s just procedure to ask for a license and all that. You’re okay. I should have just said it was ‘cause of the bags first.”

“Try not to take it too hard. My partner doesn’t have the best of tact.” Officer Rogers tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but Y/N didn’t hear him. Risking a move he knew he probably shouldn’t, he reached in the car an placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath and once you’ve calmed down, you’re free to go.”

Y/N sniffed loudly, wiping her runny mascara and tears with the palm of her hands. Great, she thought bitterly, I already made them think I was crazy and now I look the part too. Nodding through her tears, she took in a deep shuddering breath.

“I’m still an idiot.”

“No,” Officer Barnes repeated firmly. “You’re not. You’d have been an idiot if you smacked me like you wanted to though.”

Y/N let out a watery laugh, a smile growing on her face. The two men grinned, their shoulders relaxing at the sight of her wobbly grin.

“I wouldn’t say I wasn’t impressed with how eloquently you put your argument early, but maybe next time let the office say his reasoning before you start an argument.” Office Barnes said gently, passing the papers back into the car. She frowned, wondering when she gave him the papers but took them quietly.

Officer Rogers clapped a hand on his partner’s shoulder, nodding to Y/N.

“If you can, take a bubble bath tonight. Have a good night, Y/N.” He winked, flashing her another one of his dazzling smiles before he turned to head back to his car. Y/N face burned, his wink doing things to her insides. Officer Barnes stepped back in her line of sight, grinning widely.

“Drive safely. And double check your doors next time before you get in your car.” He chuckled, his crooked grin and insufferable cheekbones causing the butterflies to explode again. She nodded numbly, melting into the seat as the officer turned and headed back to his cruiser. She couldn’t help but stare at his backside as he moved. Sweet lord, he must live at the gym when he’s not at work.

Shaking her head, she put her stuff back in its place before putting the car in drive. As she drove away, she eyed the two Chargers that contained the most attractive set of officers she’d ever seen. And damn it all if she didn’t kick herself for not asking for their numbers, stupidity be damned.

Perma Tag: (CLOSED)

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(Let me know if I missed you, the strike means I can’t tag you for some reason.)

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miss-authorcita · 5 years

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London Boy

So Taylor Swift's album released today at midnight and I listed to the whole thing and I loved it! Excuse my obsession but as soon as I heard London Boy I couldn't help but imagine singing it to Tom Holland and my creativity spark. It's not a very well thought One-Shot since I did write it at 1am after listening to the whole album so sorry if it's not as good as I feel it is while being sleepy at 2am.

Summary: Inspired by the song London Boy by Taylor Swift. You move to London where you meet and fall in love with Tom Holland.

___

I had arrived at London late last night and hadn't had the opportunity to explore the city till today. It was entirely breathtaking or at least the blocks I'd walked from my new loft were. I was strolling Camden Market, my headphones on and jamming to Motown's greatests hits, currently The Supremes 'Baby Love' was working as the soundtrack to my English tour.

I regretted not wearing a thicker jacket since the weather was very different from what I was used to back in SoCal. I was sporting my Bruce Springsteen tshirt, faded blue jeans, converse that once upon a time used to be white and my thick wool jacket. I decided to dip into a dive bar for warmth before I kept on exploring.

I sat on a stool and ordered a Tennessee whiskey getting the classic 'Tourist' look from the bartender. 'Not a tousiris, but yes I'm new' I said in my mind for the tenth time that day.

I was enjoying letting the liquid warm my body when I heard a loud but contagious laugh. I turned towards the sound finding a trio of boys. The one laughing I could only see his profile but he had tousled brown hair, adorable dimples and was just incredibly attractive.

"That's bollocks!" He exclaimed to his friend, the accent making me melt on the spot.

His friends caught me staring and "subtly" told him. He turned around and our eyes met, I choked on my drink causing me to blush. What would be the odds of running into Tom Holland? He walked away from his friends and approached me. I couldn't control the smile that took over my face.

"Hi." He said leaning against the counter. "I'm Tom."

"I know." I answered, extending my hand for him to shake. "I'm Y/N"

"Pleasure, Y/N. I was going to offer to buy you a drink, but I see you already got that covered." He said indicating to my still very full glass of whiskey.

"How about I buy you one?" I flirted and he chuckled and took a seat on the stool next to me.

We sat for awhile exchanging stories and pleasantly flirting with each other.

"This might sound odd but one of my mates is having a little party tonight, at Highgate. Would you like to come?" He seemed nervous after he asked and I smiled wide making him relax a bit.

"I'd love to."

•••••••••••••••••

After the party and meeting all his best mates as he said we kept on spending time together. I started to love high tea in the evenings and telling him all about my college years and comparing to his Uni. He knew I loved musicals so he'd taken me to the West End one night to see the production of Wicked.

I couldn't believe how quickly we became a part of each others lives. We'd spend our nights in the pub, screaming at the TV as we watched Rugby with his school friends. He'd always split a cab with me to make sure I got home safe. We'd cuddle on the ride, watching the gray sky on that rainy cab ride.

"You don't to go home tonight." I whispered in his ear after a whole month of dating.

"Babe, don't threaten me with a good time" he purred, locking his caramel eyes with my own.

My answer came in the form of a kiss and just like that we walked hand in hand into my tiny London loft.

•••••••••••••••••

When we felt like enjoying the music and nightlife we would spend nights in Brixton. Other days it was artisan coffee shops in Shoreditch in the afternoon.

Soon it couldn't be helped and the paparazzi started posting our pictures in magazines and websites.

'Spotted: mystery girl with Tom Holland. Is the Spiderman actor in love?' The headlines said. I worried about it as I read the theories online on my phone waiting for Tom to be ready to go out.

"Maybe we should stay in today." I voiced once he stepped into the living room.

"Oh, alright. Are you feeling alright?" He asked concern evident on his face.

"I just...don't want to be outside." I hesitated, not knowing if I should voice my fears.

Tom sat beside me and put his arm around me, bringing me closer.

"You can tell me." He promised.

I took a deep breath "We've only been together 3 months and they're trying to define our relationship before we even have! I mean we've never talked about it. I don't know if this is just casual for you or if it's more or I don't--" I groaned and buried my head in my hands.

Tom chuckled and brought me closer. He started kissing my head and ear and neck till I started laughing and pushing him away. He waited till I calmed down to kiss my lips, softly.

"Darling, I fancy you" he breathed and my breath hitched.

"So I guess all the rumors are true" I said and we spent the night inside, watching TV in our pajamas and eating junk food.

•••••••••••••••••

Tom was leaving for Ireland to film a movie he'd booked. The schedule said he'd be away for 2 months and he promised to be back in time for the holidays.

"I'm going to miss you so much, love." He said, his arms around my waist as we said our goodbyes.

"We'll skype as much as you can and we'll see each other soon...right?" My insecurities making an appearance even though I didnt want them to.

"Of course! I still have loads of London to show you." He insisted, pulling me closer.

"You said you'd show me more of Hackney." I reminded him.

"And I will! I'm going to take you to the Museum of Curiosities. You'll love it...or maybe you're tired of the urban side of London. I could take you to the Louis Vuitton shop up on Bond Street, we can see the classier side of London." He was rambling, something I now knew he did whenever he felt nervous.

"I just wanna be with you." I confessed, looking at him adoringly. He smiled, those dimples that first pulled me making an appearance and enchanting me all over again.

We kissed one last time before he got in the car and I watched it drive away.

•••••••••••••••••

In the months he was gone I missed him like crazy. He'd become home to me in such a short amount of time. They say home is where the heart is, mine is with Tom. We texted constantly and Skyped, but we both had responsibilities plus the distance didn't allow us as much time as we had when he was here with me.

I still went out, I enjoyed walking SoHo and drinking in the afternoon with friends from work. I even met up with his mates and hung out.

I was walking home one night from the pub. The streets were already decorated with lights, multiples Happy Christmas signs hung in every store, it was clearly the best time of the year but I couldn't help but be blue. I rounded the corner when I saw him. Sitting on the steps of my loft, suitcase in hand and probably freezing.

"Tom!" I yelled and ran to him, almost slipping in the process.

Our bodies smashed into each other as I wrapped my arms around his neck. He kissed every inch of my face and I laughed, letting him because the butterflies in my stomach were going crazy.

"I missed you so much, love!" He exclaimed and kissed me firmly on the lips.

I ran my fingers through the hairs at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer. Once we were both breathless we pulled away.

"You didn't tell me you were coming." I scolded but the smile on my face told him I wasn't really upset.

"I wanted to surprise you." He said and kissed my cold, red nose.

"I love you." I couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I love you too." He spoke in his gorgeous English accent and we kissed once more.

Here we were, a couple weeks before christmas, in the snow, declaring our love for each other. I can't believe I fell in love with a London boy.

#tom holland x reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #taylor swift london boy #london boy #taylor swift #tom holland

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luki-fanfic · 5 years

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A Kingdom For A Book: Good Omens/KHR Fic

So...guess what I’ve been watching obsessively the last few weeks? Had to try and hash some of this out before the weekend so I could concentrate on DK&T.

A Kingdom for a Book Good Omens/Katekyo Hitman Reborn

Tsuna, Yamamoto, Gokudera and Ryohei are in Italy, having breakfast with Nono and his respective guardians when it happens.

The Tenth generation had been invited (or, translated into civilian, abducted in the dead of night the day after graduating middle school) to spend the summer break at the Vongola Mansion. However, Hibari had been...forceful, in his refusal, while Mukuro and Chrome had declined and vanished before anyone could talk them into it. Lambo, while excited at the idea at returning home, had refused to leave Nana alone, and had been given the ‘very important job’ of protecting the woman while the teens were away.

Tsuna rather sorely wishes he could have traded jobs with his young lightning. The ‘break’ part of the trip had turned out to be very apt, because tutoring on Vongola grounds was ten time worse than in Namimori, where Reborn had to at least pretend he was bound by foolish things like land ownership, Hibari’s territory issues and physics. The hitman had been enjoying every minute of Tsuna torment, to the surprise of absolutely no one. As such, nobody is really surprised when Reborn walks in and slaps four airline tickets on the table.

“It’s time for your Vongola Negotiation Trial,” he says, as if it explains anything.

Granted, it’s Reborn, so explanations have always been optional. If not for the fact that the man-turned-baby-and-now-rapidly-going-through-puberty-again-teenager always landed on his feet, Tsuna would swear blindly that he just made things up on the spot.

“What’s a Vongola Negation Trial?” he asks, mostly to get things over with. If he doesn’t ask what Reborn is talking about, Yamamoto will, which will set Gokudera off on a giant rant only 2 people in the room can follow, and it’s just too early in the morning for that.

To his surprise, Nono is the one that answers, folding his hands and smiling at his heir.

“It’s a right of passage for all young mafia” he explains. “Especially those in boss positions. It’s a test to show your intelligence, charisma and skill at obtaining objectives.”

Yamamoto laughs and leans over to wrap an arm around Tsuna’s shoulders.

“This’ll be easy Tsuna,” he says. “Those are some of your best qualities.”

“Hieee?”

“Don’t touch the Tenth so casually!” Gokudera hisses at the rain, before he face does some spectacular muscle rearranging to smile at Tsuna.

“But he’s right Tenth! This will be a cakewalk for you,” he insists.

“Sawada can negotiate to the extreme!” Ryohei agrees.

“What? But I’m not good at-”

“Regardless,” Reborn say, talking over him. “As the future Decimo, your role will require exceptional negotiation skills. Granted, this is something you have proven to have a knack for, so this is merely a formality to prove your prowess.”

Tsuna stares at the delighted faces around him and sighs.

As much as he wants to keep arguing, he’s acutely aware of the pointlessness of such an act. At least a ‘negotiation trial’ probably won’t be as violent as Reborn’s usual training. If they have to leave the country, the man can only have so long to-

Oh crap...he’s sending them to a war zone isn’t he?

“Hieee...”

The hitman pretends he doesn’t hear Tsuna’s squeak, and pulls out what appears to be a photograph from his suit pocket.

“The Ninth gave me a selection of possible outbreaks and riots that require ceasefires” he explains. “However, as your tutor, I believe in pushing you to great things, and for that reason, I have decided to give you the toughest negotiation challenge known to man.”

Tsuna pales as he watches Nono’s guardians pale, the man himself leaning forward in something resembling horror.

“Reborn, you can’t possibly be planning to send him there...”

Tsuna watches in astonishment as every mafioso in the room steps back, the photo dropping from Reborn’s hand to the desk.

“Sawada Tsunayoshi” his tutor says. “You must enter the shop of A.Z.Fell & Co in London, and leave with a legally purchased book.”

“...I’m sorry, what?” Tsuna says, just before the entire room erupts in full on outrage.

“Reborn, you cannot be serious-”

“There are limits to your madness-”

“At least give him a fighting chance! A gang war in Nicaragua started a few days ago, send him there!”

Tsuna can only stare at the horrified Mafioso in pure confusion, before picking up the photograph. It boasts an old brick building, with an older gentleman on the stair just exiting the door. He’s dressed a good century out of fashion, but there’s a presence, even in the photo, that makes Tsuna feel he’d look more out of place in modern clothing.

“This is Mr. Fell?” he asks, once the yelling calms down. Everyone in the room sort of glance at each other, before sagging back down into their seats.

“One of them” Nono replies. “The book store has been open since the 1800’s, passed down his family, and has been the bane of many a collector. There are few rare texts, especially of the biblical or prophetic nature, that Fell & Co do not possess.”

“But, then why is it a bane?”

The entire room offers a mirthless chuckle.

“Because the Fell family go to extreme lengths to make sure they never part with a single volume” Coyote explains. “It hasn’t so much as broken even since it opened. We’re not even sure why they have the bookshop rather than just a private collection. It’s got to be some kind of tax thing, though we’re still not sure what considering how immaculate they appear, but regardless, just because those books are in a shop, does not mean they’re for sale.”

“...Has anyone ever succeeded?” Tsuna asks. Everyone immediately turns to Reborn, who is wearing his trademark look of smug, and Tsuna sags.

“Let me rephrase. Has anyone human ever succeeded?” he rephrases, and Reborn chuckles.

“There are stories that suggest the sixth Manachelli boss managed to make it out with a ‘wicked bible’” he tells him. “But given that all ten known copies are currently recorded elsewhere, nobody believes it.”

“Tsunayoshi...” Nono begins. “While I have full trust in Reborn’s decisions, I must tell you that there is no dishonour in failing this trial. Many mafioso have failed. Even Xanxus could not pry a volume from Fell’s hands.”

“Xanxus tried?” Tsuna squeaks, and Yamamoto gives a low whistle while Gokudera splutters. Nono just nods.

“Nearly every family has attempted it in recent history,” Nono continues. “As such, if you reach a point where you feel you have exhausted every avenue, please retreat, and I will insist upon a different challenge.”

The Don glances over at Reborn.

“That will be acceptable, yes?” he asks the hitman. Reborn merely adjusts his hat.

“I have full confidence in my student,” he replies. “But I can accept those terms. What do you say Dame-Tsuna?”

Tsuna drops his eyes back down to the photo. Takes in the unassuming man and the shop.

Well, at least it’s not a literal war zone.

Looks like he’s going to London.

---

All things considered, Tsuna finds himself pleasantly surprised by London. While the architecture is western and the streets crammed with people of every colour and shape, it lacks the sheer chaotic violence that seems to encompass Italy each time he sets foot there. Instead there’s this subconscious politeness that everyone acknowledges exists (although not necessarily acted upon) that his Japanese upbringing just finds pleasant. While he’s certainly not about to up and move, it’s less of a culture shock than his first unchaperoned visit to Rome.

His guardians seem to be enjoying the trip too. Ryohei’s exuberance and yelling get him some amused looks, and Yamamoto has been taken photos since they got off the plane. Gokudera’s had a giddy look on his face, and while he’s not mentioned anything, Tsuna spotted him grabbing a handful of pamphlets from the hotel’s tourist section regarding ghost tours. He’ll have to remember to ask Yamamoto to ‘guard’ him one night so Gokudera doesn’t feel guilty about slipping away.

In fact, Tsuna is surprisingly optimistic about the whole thing, right up until they reach the area of Soho and gets hit with the sheer oddity of the shop. His trio of guardians, equally enamoured by London’s streets, quickly spot the issue itself.

“How is this place still standing?” Gokudera asks, glancing around at the high street retail brands and expensive bistro bars, before turning his attention back to the dull red building that takes up a significant chunk of the corner. “It’s got to be the only independent building on the street.”

“It’s really well located too,” Yamamoto says, pushing up on his tiptoes to look inside the windows. “My Dad would kill for this kind of location, but there’s no one inside. There should at least be a few window shoppers, right?”

“This is insane,” Gokudera continues muttering. “Surely the local council would have slapped a compulsory purchase order on the owner by this point.”

Ryohei is frowning too, walking forward and frowning at a sign on the door.

“These opening times are crazy to the extreme.”

He’s not wrong. Tsuna almost finds himself gaping at the ramblings provided. This shop’s opening hours are the business equivalent of a 100 sided dice roll. Judging from his expression, Gokudera can’t decide if he’s frustrated or impressed. Yamamoto already had his phone out and snapping a photo for posterity.

Astonishingly enough though, while the opening hours are few and far between, the shop is currently open, and with a very put upon sigh, Tsuna pushes the door open and steps inside.

---

His plan is simple. Walk in, find a book that looks particularly cheap or badly damaged and then hope his intuition helps him struggle through the haggling.

Unfortunately, this plan immediately hits a snag when he walks into the shop and feels his intuition goes crazy. There’s no danger or alarm...it just...really, really doesn’t want to be there. It sort of does the mental equivalent of whimper and curl up into a small ball underneath a metaphysical table, and Tsuna wants to about face and walk straight out the door.

Unfortunately, that isn’t an option, because his three friends are still blocking the way, and Gokudera is already hyperventilating, eyes locked on a bookshelf that’s almost changed colour from the amount of dust.

“Is that a first edition Liver De Coloribus Coeli?” he squeaks. “In a bookshop?”

Tsuna has absolutely no idea what a ‘liba de colour bus’ is, or what is so surprising about finding it in a bookshop, but he leaves his right hand to salivate (already the bomber has about five books in his arms, clearly forgetting the odds of leaving with any one of them), and walks around the room.

The building itself doesn’t seem dangerous, but there’s definitely something off about it. There’s an odd damp smell that sticks in your nose and is decidedly uncomfortable. The books themselves are in no clear order, strewn about almost haphazardly, and not a single staff member in sight...which is definitely odd considering Tsuna has it on good authority that this is a store that ‘sells’ the literary equivalent of diamonds. There should at least be a guard, surely?

His intuition peeks out from underneath it’s metaphysical table just long enough to nudge him in the direction of a back room, but the closer he gets, the more awkward the building feels. He tests his intuition by doing an 180 and walking towards the door, and is utterly baffled by the feeling of ‘yes! Yes! Do that!’ that follows.

“Is it just me?” Yamamoto begins as he inspects a half empty bookshelf near a window, hand rubbing the back of his neck where hair is standing on end. “Or does this place feel really unpleasant?”

“It is extremely uncomfortable” Ryohei agrees, leaning next to the door, and that has Tsuna standing up a little straighter. It’s one thing for his intuition to be upset, another thing entirely for Ryohei to pick up on it.

Gokudera seems to realise this as well, because he’s paused in his manic search for books to glance around the building.

“It’s as if the building itself is telling us to go away,” he concludes, and his face lights up.

“Maybe it’s a ghost? A real, live UMA here in London. This shop is old, it’s entirely possible. Dammit, I should have brought some equipment!”

Yamamoto is grinning at the bomber, and Tsuna sags. Any desire to leave has quickly vanished in the wake of ‘supernatural-oddities-are-afoot-Hayato.’

His attention is only drawn away from his storm when he hears the rather dismayed gasp that comes from the other side of the room.

‘Customers, oh dear.’

Tsuna swings round to take in the very well dressed man who looks very disappointed to see them.

‘Ah, hello,’ Tsuna begins, frantically trying to remember his English lessons. ‘We, um, looking for, ah-’

“I speak Japanese” Mr Fell interrupts. “But you really should leave now. I don’t have any stock you would be interested in.”

Gokudera immediately moves forward, gesturing to the dozen books now in his hands.

‘I need all of these!’ he says in English with a grin. ‘Name your price. I can’t believe they were all just sitting in the open.’

This just makes Mr Fell go from disappointed to horrified, and Tsuna winces. Gokudera’s forgotten the point of this whole trip – the books must be truly incredible for his right hand to be this obsessed. Which doesn’t bode well for anyone.

“These books aren’t for children,” Mr Fell replies. “Please put them back where you found them.”

Gokudera’s smile vanishes.

“Are you kidding? There’s a genuine ‘Anatomy of a Chupacubra’ and ‘Fantasy of a Star’s Soliloquy’ in here. You know how long I’ve been looking for copies of those?”

“There are extremely rare,” Mr Fell agrees. “Which is all the more reason to put them back before you damage them. Please, some of those volumes are fragile.”

He moves to take the books forcibly from Gokudera’s hands, and the teen moves back. Before Tsuna can even consider interjecting, Yamamoto is already slipping between the two with a smile.

“Won’t you reconsider?” he asks. “This is a book shop, we’re book buyers. Everything can work out, don’t you think?”

Yamamoto’s easy going grin can and has eased the ire of more than one Mafioso over the years, but Mr Fell however is not included in that number. He’s looking even more upset at being kept from his stock.

“This is doing nothing to convince me you can have ownership of such valuable items,” he says. “Do you even know what they cost?”

“We have money,” Ryohei offers, and Mr Fell scoffs.

“Money does not buy respect or protection,” Mr Fell replies, and glares when Gokudera snorts in laughter.

Tsuna isn’t even certain how he does it. His intuition twinges, and he thinks he hears a finger snap, but quicker than the eye can follow, the man has plucked almost every book from the bomber’s hands, vanishing them under the counter. Gokudera only stops gaping in shock when the man returns to grab the last few books in his hands, clutching them tightly to his chest.

“Fuck you! I’m not leaving without them!” he swears. Mr Fell just purses his lips.

“Yes you are. Put them on that table this instant, or I will be forced to do something I’d rather not.”

Tsuna’s intuition spikes. The man isn’t bluffing, and Tsuna doesn’t have the information to know exactly what he’s promising.

“Gokudera, drop them” Tsuna pleads, and while Gokudera looks at him in dismay, something in Tsuna’s face makes him capitulate. Tsuna is far more relieved than he should be when the bomber submits, placing the books on a nearby table with almost tender care. A hand brushes the top volume with a move one would almost call tender had it not been from Gokudera, while Yamamoto tugs at his other arm.

“I’ll be back for you,” he whispers, only to turn and scowl at Mr. Fell as he’s guided to the door. The book owner seems quite delighted that everything went so smoothly, but Tsuna hesitates as he reaches the door.

“I can’t leave London without a book,” he tells Mr. Fell. The man gives him a tight smile.

“Then I hope you enjoy London,” he says. “You’ll be here for some time.”

The man moves forward and ushers Tsuna out the door. He stumbles as he trips on the top step, only saved from falling down the lot by Ryohei, and turns to see Mr Fell lock the door and swing the sign from Open to Closed.

“What an asshole,” Gokudera growls.

“Now I get why everyone got extremely worried when we came here,” Ryohei agrees. “He’s an extremely challenging opponent.”

Tsuna nods as he pulls away from the boxer, gingerly walking down the steps.

“Lets go to the hotel,” he says. “I think we might need to call some people.”

His friends grin as they head down the street, shoulders loosening when the realise Tsuna isn’t all that upset about getting kicked out. To be honest, he’d have been more surprised if they hadn’t been. It’s not like he’d expected to succeed on the first try.

But maybe it’s time to get some more data to work with.

#katekyo hitman reborn #Good Omens #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Crossover #katekyo hitman reborn fanfic #Good Omens fanfic #Sawada Tsunayoshi #Aziraphale #Crowley in WW2 reminded me of Reborn and the hints about mafia being 'convinced' to leave the bookshop alone had a hand in this #A Kingdom For a Book #Katekyo HItman reborn fanfiction #Good Omens fanfiction

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apprenticeofcups · 5 years

Text

Ch 9 - Teratopathy [The Arcana AU]

Fairy-tale-inspired Monster AU commissioned by @canistheapprentice

Ch 9, “Going a-Traveling”: If you let a few bloody corpses ruin picnic weather, you just don’t have the right attitude.

Pairings: Canis/Julian Words: 1940

More About Canis | On AO3 | Ch 1 | Ch 8 | Ch 10

The appearance of a ravaged animal corpse in the city center was becoming increasingly commonplace, the accompanying shrieks of horror and revulsion as much a part of the morning symphony as the crowing of roosters and grinding of wagon wheels on the cobbled streets. Today, a ram, the tenth such abomination to turn up in the night, was skewered on the fountain before the Lady’s Manor, the sprawling estate that composed the whole north edge of the city center, the little blood remaining in its ruined body running and recycling through the owl-headed spouts of pristine silver, the vital fluids oozing over the sleek marble carved with phases of the moon. Deep furrows from huge claws had dug up the white stones in all directions, radiating out from the elaborate fountain with streaks of blood, crusty smears of viscera, and a strange, black, evil-smelling ichor that pitted and ate away at the stones before it dried. The fountain’s centerpiece, a trio of dancers in fine stone silks, burst through the dead ram’s chest, ribs torn open and broken and pointing to the sky like sharp white fingers.

The Manor was dark, deserted weeks before the first killing by the Lady herself on her honeymoon, only the house- and groundskeepers milling around on occasion to keep the place maintained. The city center, though, was bustling, roiling with a crowd of terrified but titillated onlookers, each eager to shove through to the front of the crowd for their turn to shy away in terror. Canis held Julian’s arm tightly as they forded the square, weaving through the tightly-packed, nervous bodies.

“Oh, it’s horrible, horrible!” The grey-skinned old man who lived two doors down form the shop and lent money for things like barn fires and flooded houses wailed in his thin, reedy voice, clasping his wispy little wife to his chest as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“I may have spoken too soon,” Julian said, holding the basket up over his head and skirting the chaos with long strides, “when I said ‘nice day for a picnic’.”

“Oh, no, I agree.” Double-timing to keep pace with his long legs, Canis held the picnic blanket, hand-sewn with patches of multicolored lilies, to his chest. “I’d rather not be in town right now.”

“I’m sure they’ll be knocking your door down in an hour or so, too.” Blue-and-silver-jacketed constables began to worm into the crowd, breaking it up into pockets, and Julian seized the opportunity to steal down a side street. “Making a killing—pardon the expression—in protection spells, lately, aren’t we?”

“And I’m sure you can’t keep sedatives on the shelves.” Canis nodded, slowing a little to catch his breath.

“Not remotely.” Setting down the basket, Julian pulled off his cravat, the loose bow devastated by the pushing crowd, and started to retie it, his efforts clumsy without a mirror.

“Here.” Laying down the blanket, Canis took the garnet-colored tie from him, draping it over one shoulder and straightening his collar. Under the clean white cotton, soft from wear and touched with the slightest scent of cedar from his aftershave, was a thin black cord disappearing under his shirt. Curiously, Canis inspected it while he slipped the cravat around the high collar. “What’s your necklace?”

With a short, wry laugh, Julian shook his head. “Just a good luck charm. I’m afraid I’m no better than the rest of the superstitious masses.”

“Livestock are being torn apart, and people are disappearing without a trace.” Winding the red satin around his collar, Canis tied it in a neat cascade. “A little superstition doesn’t hurt.” Smoothing the cravat proudly, he leaned up and kissed Julian’s cheek. “There you go.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Scooping up their picnic supplies, Julian offered his arm. “Let’s see if we can’t salvage this day, mm?”

They found a spot a short jaunt into the woods, a knoll looking over the river. It was a good quarter mile from the bloodberry patch, for which Canis was thankful, because the memory of yet another eviscerated animal was guaranteed to ruin his appetite, and the birch trees were sparse, allowing through enough sunlight that the forest floor was blooming, a carpet of pink-and-white foamflowers weaving between the papery trunks. In the light, the river bubbling gently over mossy stones, the ambient sounds more birdsong and chittering of squirrels than unearthly roars and demonic growls, the forest was a startlingly pleasant place to be.

Unwrapping two dark glass bottles from the picnic basket, Julian passed him a teacup. “Red or white?”

“Ooh, red.” Unpacking covered dishes and a few half-burnt, different-colored tapers from the basket, Canis spread them out on the blanket. With a silver-handled corkscrew, Julian cracked open both bottles, took a sniff of each, and motioned for Canis to hold out his cup—then handed him an entire bottle.

Canis laughed, tossing the teacup aside and taking a swig. “None for you?”

“If you get tired of it, let me know—” Leaning back on the blanket, Julian took a long drink from the other bottle, sighing. “We’ll trade.”

Canis crossed his legs, popping the cover off a dish of miniature fruit tarts. “I don’t normally have wine this early in the day.”

“My dear, in times like these, day drinking is not only a reasonable pastime, but a necessary one.” Toasting him with the bottle, Julian set it aside, pressing it into the dirt so it stood on its own. “At least as dangerous as whatever nasty thing keeps leaving corpses in the middle of town are the nerves, paranoia, and hysteria it incites.”

“People are already terrified to go out,” Canis mused, laying out two scallop-edged plates. “I’ve heard rumors of petitioning for a curfew when Her Ladyship returns to town.”

“Ah, curfew.” Julian made a face. “First step on the very short road to a full-on witch-hunt.”

“Oh, please, no.” Groaning, Canis took another sip of wine. “You don’t know how inconvenient a witch-hunt sounds when you’re essentially a real witch.”

“Hey, it doesn’t pay to be the mysterious, enigmatic doctor who breezed into town right around the time this mess began, either.” Pointedly, Julian ripped off a hunk of bread, reaching for the gingham-topped jar of goat cheese.

“That’s true, you did…” Canis narrowed his eyes teasingly. “Hmm…Big man like you could easily carry a body around, and with your skill with a scalpel…”

“’Big’? Please.” Slipping off his coat, Julian wrapped a hand demonstrably around his thin wrist, thumb and finger touching even over the layers of cotton and leather. “There’s nothing to me. If I tried to lift a sheep into a fountain, I’d snap in half.”

“Is that your professional, medical opinion, Doctor?” Canis teased, gathering up the mismatched tapers. Fingers glowing brilliant gold, he ran them over the bundle of candles, then let them go, floating up around the blanket in a neat ring and sparking to life.

Distracted by the candles bobbing in the air, Julian nodded. “Uh, more or less, yes…” Tentatively, he reached up to touch one, but flinched when the breeze brought it close to his hand. “How…do you do that? I mean—” Tearing his eyes away from the candles, he reached for the wine bottle. “It’s incredible, don’t get me wrong, but—”

“I get the feeling,” Canis said, scooting closer to him on the blanket, “you don’t like things you can’t explain.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it.” Gesturing vaguely with the bottle, Julian fumbled for words. “I…have a…healthy suspicion.”

Catching his hand on the bottle, Canis took a drink from it, holding his gaze. “If I had a ‘healthy suspicion’ about handsome, mysterious doctors, we wouldn’t be having very much fun, would we?”

Julian swallowed, nearly tipping the bottle into Canis’ lap before he caught himself, the tips of his ears turning pink. “You, uh, you got me there.”

“Besides.” Licking the white wine off his lips, Canis held up one of the tarts, leaning in to feed him. “I wouldn’t conjure up anything that could hurt you.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Not unless you wanted me to.”

Choking on a mouthful of berries and pastry, Julian cleared his throat. “N-now, I’ll hold you to that. Both of…that.” He frowned. Canis giggled, falling backward onto the picnic blanket and feeling for his wine. Julian grinned. “Well, if you like that…”

“Oh, is there more where that came from?” Shaking his head, Canis took a drink.

Lying back on the blanket, one long leg dangling off the edge of the hillock, Julian sighed. “Unfortunately? Much more.”

Moving their picnic spread out of the way, Canis snuggled closer to him—lying side by side, but not so close as to smother him, just in case. “Why are you back in town?”

“I’d been away for a long time,” he admitted, resting his head back on his hands. “It was time to come home.”

Canis studied him, a little rumpled, a little tired, messy red hair fanning out in loose curls on the patchwork blanket, the faintest splash of freckles just visible in the midday sun across the sharp bridge of his nose. “Where do you go?”

“Oh, all over.” Julian smiled, faraway eyes tracing over the wispy clouds. “Every ship needs a surgeon, so I usually hitch a ride down to the port, ask around until someone picks me up.” Absently, he counted off, “I’ve been on merchant ships, barges, envoys royal, ducal, comital, and imperial…cutting off limbs and handing out orange juice, mostly, but…hm.” He closed his eyes. “The point of it’s the where, not the what.”

Canis could practically smell the sea air, the adrenaline, and it made him wistful. “How long are you staying, this time?”

“I have a charter for a shipping barque that leaves in a few weeks.” Stretching, Julian sat up, ducking to avoid the floating candles. “Six months through the southeast, 'round the spice isles and the Sea of Monsters.”

“Sea of Monsters?” Canis perked up.

“Don’t get too excited.” Julian rolled his eyes, swirling his wine in the bottle. “It’s full of legends, all kinds of grand stories, but I think I’m the scariest thing to sail those waters in a long time.”

“Oh, well, in that case.” With an exaggerated grimace, Canis turned away. “Not much of an adventure.”

“Oho, don’t sell me short, Canis Major.” Baring his teeth teasingly, Julian waggled his gloved fingers like ghostly claws. “I might be the stuff of your nightmares.”

“Funny,” Canis replying, dipping into a tart with his pinky and leaving a dab of pastry cream on the end of Julian’s nose, “I think I have seen you in my dreams before…” Sucking his finger clean, he batted his lashes. “And I was certainly screaming.”

“Hah…” All the air rushing out of him, Julian managed to miss his nose twice with the white cloth napkin before he successfully wiped it clean. “No, uh—ahem. No wonder you’re such a phenomenal dancer.” Biting his lip, he blushed far and away past his collar. “You don’t miss a beat.”

Cupping his cheek, Canis kissed him, softly, holding his hand instead of pawing at his chest, reminding him, “Nice and slow,” in a murmur against his cheek. “I don’t want you pushing me away again.”

Visibly relieved, Julian wrapped his arms around Canis’ waist, one hand sliding up to stroke his hair. “Thank you.” He sighed, kissing behind Canis’ ear. “I promise I don’t mean to be such a mess.”

“Julian, if you think you’re a mess…” Pulling away, Canis framed his own face sweetly, quirking one scarred brow. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”☕

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pikapikaprecure · 6 years

Text

Pikapika☆Precure Under The Big Top episode 3- Merchandise saves the day!? Return of Takura’s robots!

“Félicité Bow!“ Jubilee summoned her weapon, and fired her arrows, being careful not to get hit by anything. She stepped back, and held her weapon in the air, as did Carnival, Cheer and Parade. “Pretty Cure Cirque Charge!”

The enemy had been defeated, or so the girls thought.

“Miss Adachi! Miss Adachi!”

It was Suzume’s math teacher, Mrs. Kagabu. “Will you answer this question please?”

“Oh! uhhh,” Suzume looked to her notes “forty-nine.”

“Correct.”

Suzume had never been a daydreamer, but lately this Pretty Cure thing had been taking up a lot of her mind lately. She was constantly thinking about who would attack next. It really stressed her out, but at least she could vent to Ellie. Just not in school. She would have to wait until she got home, and that she did.

As soon as she stepped into her house, Suzume ran into her room, and unattached Ellie from her backpack. “I’m nervous,” she said, without hesitation.

“About what-oh. That’s completely normal. Any Earthling would be.”

“I mean, I think we’re gonna win, but what if we all die?”

“You won’t die, I promise.”

“You better fucking mean that.”

“I do.”

“Good.”

No more than a minute later, Emica burst into the room, sitting on her bed. “Suzu! Suzu! Suzu! Suzu!”

Suzume let out an exasperated sigh. “Whaaaaat?”

“I promised my friend Kaede I would come to her house today! She got toys for the new Precure team, and I wanna see!”

“Is it really that important to you?”

“Yes!!! Please?”

“Ugh, fine. Get out of uniform first, though.”

“No! I want to go NOW!”

“Fine, then. Let’s go NOW. Come on, come on, come on.” Suzume picked up her sister and brought her downstairs. Then, she pushed her out the door, slamming it behind her. “We’re gonna walk to Kaede’s now, let’s go.”

Luckily, Kaede’s house was just two blocks away. Kaede was already sitting on the porch, that crappy merchandise in a pile on her lap. Suzume always hated Precure merch, but now that she was the one being commercialized off of, she despised it even more. “Yeah, have fun,” she told her sister, walking off to go back home.

“Boo!”

Suzume turned around. Tamiko was right behind her.

“Were you following me?”

“No, just found you. I live right across the street. Wanna hang out at my place for a little while? Or we could go to the rink or something.”

Suzume was shocked. Did this girl, who hated her for a pretty long time, just invite her over? “Is this some sort of practical joke?”

“Nope!”

“But I thought you hated me...”

Tamiko started cracking up. “You seriously fell for that?”

“For what?”

“Me hating you! It’s all just for attention! Now that we’re not in public, we can be friends!”

“I’m not even that popular, you made me so mad I called you a-”

“If I went for anyone more popular, everyone would hate me.”

Suzume was not having it, so she continued on her walk home, too angry to notice Tamiko’s visible disappointment.

When Suzume got home, she immediately went to her room to check on Ellie, who was fast asleep until the door was opened. “Suzume!” Ellie squealed. “Wanna go to the circus and practice your magic?”

“Um, why the hell not? Should we get the others?”

“Of course! You know where they live?”

“Well I worked on a project with Airi once, so I know where she lives. None of the others, though.”

“Well let’s go to Airi’s.” And that they did. When the pair got to her front door, Airi’s mother answered. “Uhh, hey...” Suzume told her, strategically hiding Ellie, who forgot to go to keychain form, behind her back. “I’m Suzume, from Airi’s class. We’re working on something together, uhh, I don’t know if she told you but we need to go survey people all over Horitori for a study. You know where she is?”

“Yep! She’s in her room. Want me to grab you girls some to go snacks?”

“That would be so nice of you! Please do!”

Not more than a minute later, Airi was downstairs, with a bag of cookies. She closed the door, immediately addressing Suzume. “What is this town survey and why haven’t I been told about it?”

Suzume gestured to the compact peeking out of Airi’s purse.

“Oh,” Airi replied. “I know where Aina lives, she’s just up the block. Should we go get her?”

“Of course!” Ellie answered.

So, the trio went to Aina’s house, only to be stopped by Aina herself. “Yeah, I figured you’d be around here, let’s go.”

“Are you psychic?” Airi asked.

“Nope! Just got a good sense of what’s going on. Where’s Noa?”

“No idea,” Suzume answered.

“We’ll probably find her,” Aina said. “Let’s get going.”

Airi hesitated. “Are you so sure we should just-”

“Yep.” Aina replied. “Are we going or not?”

Aina was right. Noa was found outside the park on the way over. The group made their way to the circus, where Stripe and Whiskers were waiting for them, weapons in hand. Airi was about to put her key in her compact.

“Not yet!” Stripe yelled. “First, you must familiarize yourself with your weapons.” Whisker handed the weapons to their respective owners.

“Alright Aina, you first.”

Aina held up the Bonheur Wand.

“Pikapika Dream Blast!!”

Aina repeated.

Meanwhile, Airi and Noa were working with Stripe to learn spells with the Chanceux Sword and the Fête Ribbon.

On the other side of the tent, Ellie was having a hard time teaching Suzume how to use the Félicité Bow. Suzume was also confused, she seemed to do good with it the other day. Maybe she needed to be transformed? Now that Suzume thought of it, she didn’t fire too much, it was mostly used for that group attack. Either way, she was having a hard time. Ellie painted a target onto a nearby prop to see if that would help with aim. It didn’t. Both of them were frustrated.

“Alright Suzume,” Ellie said. “I didn’t think you would have such a hard time. Try again.”

Suzume tried again, and for the tenth time, the arrow landed on the floor. “I quit.”

“No! Don’t quit! Keep trying. Here, I’ll give you some tips. See all those stars?” Ellie gestured to the star pattern on the bow’s handle. Those will give you better grip. Try holding the bow from those.”

Suzume did so.

“Stand with your feet apart. Be very careful near the arrow. Take a deep breath, and fire!”

Suzume followed Ellie’s instructions. She prepared to fire, but there was a sudden, loud rip in the circus tent. Suzume ran to see what caused the rip, and the fairies followed her. It was Indigo, along with two other, identical robots.

Same pale white metal, same small, bright red eyes, same otherworldly vibe. Suzume just assumed that all of Takura’s robots are the same, the only difference was power, because aren’t the bad guys supposed to get more powerful? At least that’s what Emica and her friends say.

The three robots grabbed onto Airi, Aina, and Noa. Luckily, there wasn’t another to grab Suzume, so she helped push them out so the four girls could transform together.

“Magic circus jubilee change!“

“Magic circus carnival change!”

“Magic circus parade change!”

“Magic circus cheer change!”

“For the happiness of the world! The Pretty Cure of beauty and grace! Cure Jubilee!”

“For the happiness of the world! The Pretty Cure of bravery and friendship! Cure Carnival!“

“For the happiness of the world! The Pretty Cure of creativity and love! Cure Parade!”

“For the happiness of the world! The Pretty Cure of peace and hope! Cure Cheer!”

The Cures begun to chase the robots, until they were in the middle of the street. They kept on going until they were right by Kaede’s house. Jubilee would have kept going but she saw Kaede on her balcony, cheering. She went inside and came out with Emica. “Hey, look, we’ve got fans!” Carnival whispered to the others. Jubilee knew that to Emica, seeing this fight live would be amazing. “I think we’ll stop here,” she told the rest of the group. Carnival ran over to the three robots, and repeatedly kicked them one by one. Jubilee joined in. When Parade also decided to join in, each girl took one robot. Cheer sat out for a minute, but eventually summoned her ribbon. “Pikapika golden tangle!” She called, which extended the ribbon to the robots and tied it around the three of them, with just enough time for the Cures to escape.

Indigo lifted his arm over the ribbon. It looked like he was going to do something, but he didn’t. He just waited.

Meanwhile, the girls decided it would be best to perform an attack.

“Chanceux Sword!”

“Bonheur Wand!”

“Félicité Bow!”

The four girls held their weapons in the air.

“Pretty Cure Cirque Cha-”

Indigo moved his hand, and moved the weapons into his possession.

“H-how...” Cheer stuttered.

Jubilee had a sudden realization. Emica said that Kaede had a lot of merchandise for “the new Precure team”, obviously referring to Jubilee and her teammates. These weapons might not be magical, but they could be what they need. “Hey!” Jubilee shouted up at the balcony. “You got any merch?”

“Yep!” Kaede responded.

“She has all the merch!!!” Emica exclaimed.

“Toss it down here!” Jubilee told the younger girls.

Kaede and Emica threw it all down.

“What are you doing?” Parade asked Jubilee.

“Just watch.” Jubilee grabbed the replica of her bow.

Cheer, catching on, grabbed the merchandise of her ribbon and tied it on Indigo’s hand and the traces of her real weapon.

Jubilee remembered what Ellie told her before.

“Stand with your feet apart. Be very careful near the arrow. Take a deep breath, and fire!”

Being very careful, Jubilee separated her feet and straightened her back. She held the arrow right by the star pattern on the handle, and fired!

That cheap plastic arrow seemed to have done the trick. It broke the invisible barrier keeping the weapons away from the Cures, and they could finally attack.

“Pretty Cure Cirque Charge!”

As soon as they spoke those words, all that was left of the robots was a pile of scrap metal. The girls gasped. They had defeated their first enemies.

Kaede and Emica came down to grab their merchandise, and with a lot of persuasion, got them to sign it. Much to Carnival’s pleasure and Jubilee’s dismay, a few selfies were also involved.

Emica looked up at the girls and smiled. “There’s a reason I love Precure so much.”

“And what would that be?” Parade asked.

“Moments like this! You guys always win, and defeat the bad guys! You keep our world safe! I wanna be like you one day.”

“And maybe one day you will,” Ellie said. “Thanks for your help.”

When Suzume got home, she was mor than happy to let Emica show off all the selfies she got, including a video of the Cures saying “Hi Suzume!” (That one was awkward.) Normally she would be annoyed, but, although Emica didn’t know it, she made her happy today. There was no better feeling than that.

#pikapika precure under the big top #precure #pretty cure #precure fandom #precure fanseries #pretty cure fanseries #fancure

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zestysexmachinefromzanzibar · 6 years

Text

Performances and Performances

Thanks for the inspiration from @tenementcrazylittlefruitcake and this gif

186 Stump Street. That was the location she’d been given. As Leigh strolled over in her black pea coat and thigh high boots, she considered not going. It was her first day as an intern at this music hall, and she was nervous. She worried her clumsiness and awkwardness would either embarrass her or get her fired.

As she approached the monster of a building, she did anything she could to calm her nerves. She tried deep breaths, counting breaks in the concrete, talking to herself, but nothing worked. She quickly pulled out a flask and took a swig of the drink she had brought with her. She always kept a small amount on her for times like these. After downing enough to burn her throat slightly, she pulled on the doors, and then she realized it was a push door. Quietly cursing, she felt her face flush. She quickly collected herself and walked in briskly and made her way to the office.

“Ms. Michaels, we’ve been expecting you. Glad to see you.” The boss lady said to her.

“Glad to be here” Leigh lied behind a smile. She was terrified and wanted to be back at home with a mug of apple cider.

“Follow me, I’ll need you to do sound checks for a band performing later tonight. I must warn you, they can be a bit...dramatic” the boss lady warned. They walked down a dank corridor until they reached a small backstage area.

“Start in here, this will be their warmup area. After you finish the sound check, you can tell them that they’re free to have the room.”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll get right to it.” Leigh nodded and began finding where all the microphones were connected.

“They’re going to eat her alive” the boss lady muttered as she turned heel and walked back to her office, clipboard in hand.

“Finished!” Leigh exclaimed as she concluded her work to the final amplifier. She made her way into the waiting room, where she was shocked to see none other than the legends themselves, Queen.

“Excuse me gentlemen, the practice stage is all set up for you.” Leigh forced herself to look at them, as eye contact with strangers, celebrities no less, was always difficult for her.

“About time!” Roger exclaimed with a smile on his face as he practically ran out of the waiting room.

“Don’t mind him. ROGER! You’d better apologize to this young lady!” Brian screamed after him. The funster was already at his drum kit though, and simply stuck his tongue out at the tall poodle of a man.

“Thank you Miss” John stated simply, and quietly walked out of the room to set up his bass. He looked apologetic for the two who had left before him. All that was left was the tall drink of water with the sultry eyes, at least to her he was.

“Thank you for your hard work darling, I’m sure it’s all perfect” Freddie smiled at the girl. She felt her face flush as she looked down at her gray sweater and mini skirt.

“Please, let me know if I can help anymore or if something isn’t right. I promise I’ll fix it in a jiffy!” Leigh said, a little too enthusiastically. She immediately internally cursed herself for her awkwardness.

Freddie chuckled at her comment “I’ll keep that in mind. What’s your name again dear?” Freddie inquired with a smile, and nearly half lidded eyes. Leigh was mesmerized, and could barely think with those beautiful chocolate pools staring back at her.

“L-Leigh. My name is Leigh” she finally stammered out.

“Leigh” Freddie repeated. Leigh felt herself get slightly light headed as she watched the man slip past her and join the others. She couldn’t help but admire him as he walked. Those shoulders, that backside...

“Leigh!” A familiar voice called out, breaking her from her trance.

“Aston, what are you doing here?” Leigh asked. It was her best friend and drummer of their band, the Knee High Trio. Aston was always...essentric to say the least.

“Well, you remember how I said I was going to be working with a famous band? I’M THEIR NEW HAIRSTYLIST! Well, for tonight anyway.”

“That’s great Aston! I just did the sound checks. I wasn’t expecting to see you here” Leigh commented. She was always happy to see her friend, but with her friend came antics. She pondered what tonight might have in store for her, especially now that Aston was here.

“Since we won’t be needed for a little bit, let’s grab dinner. I’m starving!” Aston said, and grabbed Leigh by the arm, towing her outside to the nearest food cart.

“And that’s everything that I’ve done since our last gig” Aston finished her story. The girls decided to bring their pita wraps back into the music hall and in the waiting room. Aston had barely taken three bites of her wrap due to how much she talked, Leigh on the other hand had finished hers ten minutes ago.

“Well, I worked a little as a waitress at that restaurant where you danced on the table” Leigh began.

“Well, what happened?” Aston asked as Leigh turned red.

“I brought the customer their food and accidentally tripped and it fell all on him. He chewed me out to the manager and he fired me on the spot.” Leigh told Aston. She was humiliated, and Aston knew her friend needed a little cheering up.

“I got an idea. Let’s go watch Queen get ready for their gig.”

“WHAT?!?! Aston we can’t do that! It’s like a total invasion of their privacy!” Leigh exclaimed in utter terror. “Besides, it’s against protocol”

“Oh come on, Leigh. Live a little. We’ll stay in the wings, they won’t see us. It’ll be like our own private concert! And don’t think I didn’t see you checking out Freddie.” Leigh blushed as bright as a strawberry at those words. Aston looked at her with a mischievous smile.

“Do you think he noticed?” Leigh asked quietly, afraid that the walls had ears.

“Nah, he had his back turned. I’m just looking forward to messing with Roger’s hair.” Aston gleamed and then twirled around in glee.

“His hair looks like he’s done nothing but have sex for three days” Leigh noted. “Besides, it’s not like anyone’s gonna be able to see him in this lighting.”

“I’ll see him. And I intend to make sure he keeps that look” Aston quipped. Leigh shook her head and smiled.

“Come on!” Aston said as she grabbed Leigh’s hand and dragged her toward the stage.

Being stealthy to try not to be seen, they crept to the edge of the wings. The band had just began a new song, and Leigh couldn’t believe she was this close to near royalty. She watched Freddie with wonder and near lust as he strutted across the stage.

Freddie moved with grace as he sang his heart out. He moved towards a pole that was positioned near the front of the stage. Before she knew it, Freddie was essentially pole dancing right next to her. She covered her mouth and tried not to blush, but she couldn’t help it. Freddie looked to his left and saw a frustrated Leigh barely keeping it together. He wondered how long she had been standing there. He made it a point to grind on the pole while looking her dead in the eye. He wasn’t called a sex machine for nothing. Leigh watched as she couldn’t look away from the blatant show of sexuality in front of her. After the band finished their song Freddie spoke loudly.

“Alright. That’s enough. Dinner break boys. Be back in time for the show! Be punctual darlings!” Aston took the opportunity to follow Roger out. Roger casually placed his arm around her waist as they walked away. Freddie walked toward the wings once everyone had left. Leigh looked at the ground as he came over. She couldn’t find any words to say to him and was too embarrassed to move.

“Did you enjoy what you heard?” He asked feigning innocence.

“You guys are amazing!” Leigh managed to say. She looked up at the man, and saw lust in his dark brown eyes. She figured she must be looking at him in a similar manner.

“Did you like what you saw?” He quipped. Leigh simply looked at the ground and tried to find words.

“You’re more than welcome to stick around for a...private showing if you want” Freddie said. Leigh’s eyes shot up and looked at Freddie with her deer-in-headlights look.

“Are you sure Mr. Mercury?”

“Please darling, call me Freddie.”

“Freddie...” she breathed.

“I’m more than sure darling. Come a little closer and I’ll show you everything I can” Freddie grabbed her hand lightly and pulled her out onto the stage with him. They came up to the pole he had been previously dancing on.

“I get carried away by the music sometimes. But it’s nice to see that people enjoy watching me dance” Freddie said as he swung around the pole.

“Freddie, I don’t know what to say.”

“How about coming back to my dressing room then. Words won’t be necessary after your answer” Freddie said. He moved closer to Leigh until he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Absolutely” she answered and followed him into his dressing room.

“FREDDIE! IT’S TIME TO DO YOUR HAIR!” Aston cried for the tenth time.

“Not now please, come back later!” She heard him scream through the door.

“SHOW STARTS IN A HALF HOUR!” She screamed.

“Alright, thank you!” She heard him scream back. Aston was about to turn around and huff back to Roger’s room when she heard female giggles coming from Freddie’s room. Aston swore it sounded like Leigh. Coming to this realization, she booked it back to Roger’s room until a few minutes before the show.

The show went off without a hitch. Aston and Leigh watched from the wings of the stage.

“Leigh...” Aston said inquisitively, “is that a hickey?”

“What? No!” Leigh said as she quickly placed her hand on her neck. “Just a bruise. Why do you look like you’ve had sex for three days?” Leigh retorted. Aston looked at her and simply smiled. Leigh looked at Roger and noted his seemingly flawless sex hair. She didn’t dare ask more questions. Tonight definitely was the best night of Leigh’s life so far. She couldn’t wait for work again tomorrow.

#freddie mercury #freddie feels #roger taylor #fancic #based on a gif #queen #band #thirst

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old-souldier · 6 years

Text

#5 Prank

It was the 21st, Fifth Astral Moon, 1553 6AE.

Jordan woke up, bruised, hungover, and chilly. She rubbed her eyes. She sat up, pulling away the burlap blanket and felt a cold breeze.

It was then she realized the following:0

She was naked.

She was in a jail cell.

She had a killer headache.

She covered herself up again in the burlap blanket, the rough cloth brushing against her skin like sandpaper.

"What in the Seven 'ells..." Jordan said aloud.

"Finally awake, are we, Private Kennedy?" a husky voice said. It was a tall Sea Wolf woman in a Barracuda Knight outfit. Jordan Immediately recognised the insignia of a Sergeant

"I... Aye, marm..." Jordan looked down, before asking in a raw voice, "Wha' 'appened ta me clothes?"

"Navigator only knows..." the Sergeant sighed. "We found ye at the Anchor Yard splayed on top of the gull statue making "whooshing" noises and calling out for, accordin' ta witnesses, quote 'ma sweet Emmie baby girl, I miss ye and so does me tongue'."

Jordan froze for a minute, trying to process the words she just heard. "Ah, shite..." she finally replied.

"Shite indeed, Private." The sergeant stifled a laugh before correcting herself. "Can ye even recall what ye were doin' last night, lass?" the officer asked.

Jordan brushed a hand on her short, buzzed hair. "Well, I just came back inta town after a stint patrolling the Northwest La Noscea and the cliffsides 'round O'Gohmoro..".

The night before Jordan and a trio of young men sat around a table in a small dockside bar, the Navigator's Bosom. They were passing around pints of dark beer. After a rough clink of cups, spilling some foam on the table, they all downed their pints in one swig before slamming the cups down. On the table. At once they all cried out with a satisfied "oh!"

"Aye, that 'it the swivin' spot!" Jordan exclaimed, wiping some of the residue from her face.

"Nothin' like that first pint after comin' 'ome ta ease yer troubles." Salulu Pilulu exclaimed, the Lalafellin man remarked before lighting a pipe.

"First cups' always the best one." Bluomwilf added.

"Aye, just like the first woman ye 'ave when ye get inta town too!" A Midlander, Redmond, remarked to raucous laughter from Jordan and Bluomwilf, and a mild nod from Salulu.

"Ye don't 'ave t' get quite so vulgar just because we're in a place like this, Red..." Salulu remarked, taking in a bit of pipeweed.

"Ah, yer no fun," Redmond added, "Kennedy understands what I'm talkin' 'bout, aye?"

Jordan laughed, "Aye, aye/ Though tonight I think I'd rather spend it with good friends than trying me luck at the Member."

Bluomwilf laughed, "Ye gotta get back in there sometime, shrimp! This is where ye n' I differ. Ye can't keep 'oldin a torch for a lass that's off n' been married for two cycles."

Jordan nodded, "Aye, aye... when ye fall fer a lovely raven-haired byoot 'ard and then lose 'er, I'll listen ta ye, ye fat bastard."

Bluomwilf smiled. "Red n' I were thinkin' about goin to a show tomorrow night. Yer welcome ta join. I 'eard the dancers like performin' fer interested lasses, even willing ta go 'the extra malm or two'." He raised his eyebrows in an overly suggestive manner.

Jordan thought about it for a moment. "May'aps... but I need more drink in me first." She looked out to a barmaid, "Lass! Another round fer the table! On me gil!"

As they drank another round, Jordan said. "Aye, this is what I'm achin' for tonight! Say Bluomwif, let's see if'n I can drink ye under the table."

"Yer already 'alfway under the table, shrimp."

"The only thing that's shrimp-like 'ere is that thing ye call a cock."

Bluomwilf laughed. The Sea Wolf waved the barmaid over. "Two bottles of whiskey and two cups. We're celebratin' this eve!"

An hour later, Redmond and Salulu sat amused. The Midlander was half-asleep from drink and Salulu was having a laugh as Jordan took her tenth shot. She bobbled left to right like a buoy in choppy waters, but, after a second to steady herself, she slurped the last few drops in the shot glass and violently slammed it upside down on the table in front of her.

Bluomwilf, looking about as worse for wear somehow, slurred, "Twelve Dammmit... if'n I grow up with ye... I'd swear ye was a Sea Wolf in a Lalafell glamour....:

Jordan countered, "Enh, ye've always been a lightweight....n' a coward... nex-next round... what number issit?"

"11, Jordan." Salulu pointed out helpfully as he poured whiskey in Bluomwilf's glass.

"Aye 'leven. Gooo 'wilfy"

The young Sea Wolf grunted and took the shot glass. He stared at the glass, concentrating as he brought it to his lips and drank, his eyes shut. ��Looking at the table, he moved to place the glass down, but missed and dropped the glass on the floor, the glass clinking and rolling under his chair as he leaned back and let out a groan.

"Well," Red piped up. "Looks like the whiskey's swallowed 'im up."

"Wand'rer blesssss me iron liverrrr," Jordan said as she raised her arms to polite applause from the conscious companions.

After sighing in satisfaction, Jordan brushed her fore'ead, "Gods, it's gettin' mighty warm in ';ere." She stood up and, with a wobble that looked like would keel over at any time she stumbled outside.

"Ah, that's nice, " Jordan thought as the crisp fall air his her face. "'Tis a nice sky... I member when Emmie n' I use ta gaze at the stars after we did it in her room... she wore this lovely filly robe and I was in just me britches when we sat on the roof of 'er 'ouse 'n'... *hic*"

Jordan began stumbling up towards the Upper Decks. She wandered the oil lamp-lit streets and found a lit building. Outside a lone young woman stood outside. She was a Midlander, a bit on the short side, but with long black hair and a low cut tunic that advertise ample décolletage.

Jordan took a look at her and let out a long low whistle as she walked by.

"Like what ya see, sailor?" the woman asked.

Jordan covered her mouth with her hands. She swayed from the momentum for a bit until she settled and said, "pardon.. S'not polite ta be catcallin', but yer a byoot... a sight fer me sore eyes."

"I can make a few other things sore, if ya 'ave the gil, missy." the Midlander woman replied with a wink and a wave of her hand, making a point of showing her beautifully painted, but short nails.

Jordan stopped for a moment and reached into her pockets. "I shouldn't but. enh, just got me pay, I can live a little."

"Why don't we step in, 'ave a drink, and a nice talk. Just us gals," the woman giggled and as though using conjury, beckoned Jordan inside, the Lalafellin woman easily pulled in behind her.

In a small parlor, the woman poured Jordan some brandy in a glass over ice. "This is a nice one, Flight of the Fish Gull, they call it. 'Ave a drink."

Jordan looked a bit nervous now, having sobered up a tad. "Aye, looks good. What about you?"

"Oh, I've been nursin' a cheap rosé. Ye'd much prefer the brandy, love." The woman smiled and poured herself a glass of wine. Before sitting down quite snugly next to Jordan, letting the Lalafell rest her head on her bosom.

"Cheers 'en, "Jordan said raising a glass and taking a hearty swig.

Five minutes later, Jordan was passed out asleep. The woman stood and smiled as sealed the cap on the brandy.

"Poor sod, well at least she'll learn 'er lesson." The woman took no time grabbing Jordan's coin purse, stripping the young woman and throwing her out on the street. Jordan staggered about the only road she could see before ending up at a dead end.

"Oh, I'm a bleedin' fool I am..." the young woman moaned. She looked up and saw the white stone statue glisten in the moonlight. "Ye's da only one 'oo understands me, tiny bird. Les' fly away from our trubblezzzz..."

"Enh, last I remembered, I was drinkin' with me squadmates. The rest's a blur." Jordan finally answered after thinking on it for a few minutes.

The Sergeant sighed. "Well, he're some loaner clothes that should fit you, Private."

"Aye ma'am. Thank ye ma'am."

"Normally we'd fine you for disturbing the peace n' public indecency-"

Jordan winced. "Aye?"

"But due to your status as a Private in the Knights of the Barracuda, we've decided to discipline you internally. Your immediate superior officer, Sergeant Styrnskoefsyn has already taken responsibility for your action and will be dealing with you as is considered appropriate.

Jordan nodded. She knew six months of Latrine Duty was in her future.

#FFxivWrite2017 #entry five #I'm running behind #entry six will be a haiku at this rate

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mostclevermiss · 7 years

Text

A (somewhat) Relaxing Day

For this year’s fic/art exchange: a headcanon for @artemai-draws Her request: a headcanon with Danny and Tucker being happy

It was Saturday morning in Amity Park and that could only mean one thing for the halfa and the tech-geek: relaxing day.

Usually Sam was with them as well, but she had been dragged to an out-of-town event by her parents - which left the two boys alone to enjoy their well-deserved rest. The new tradition started shortly after ghost-hunting and school started to over-drain the trio, leaving maybe two seconds for relaxing if they weren’t particularly busy; the teenagers foresaw that they wouldn’t be able to go on like that for long and decided that henceforth, all Saturdays would be for relaxation and chilling-out only - only breaking the pattern when absolutely necessary or unavoidable. No ghost-fighting; no homework; no studying; no embarrassing family activities; no worries.

Perfect.

Tucker showed up at Danny’s door with a backpack full of their favorite video-games and consoles and half their weight in junk food in his arms. The geek grinned mischievously over the mountain of greasy food at his friend. “Who’s ready for fun, fast-food, and far-too-violent video games?” Danny Fenton stepped aside to let Tucker into the unusually silent house, satisfied with his work. “Parents left for an out-of-town convention, Jazz is in the library studying, and the Fenton Portal has been temporarily shut down. Everything two teenage boys could ever require for a “chillaxing” day has been placed in my bedroom.“ The halfa listed as he closed the door behind his friend. His eyes glowed a mischievous green. "Last one to my room cleans the mess afterwards!” He claimed before going ghost and flying at top speed to his room, eliciting an indignant “hey!” from Tucker.

The fun had officially begun.

The next few hours went by in a vicious cycle consisting of “eat, play, chill”. Eat, play, chill. Eat, play, chill. Repeat until you have a pair of teenagers with stomachache, red eyes from the screen light, and no energy or motivation to do anything, choosing to look at the ceiling and talk instead. “I can’t feel my stomach or my legs or my thumbs, dude.” Tucker groaned. A rumble from his stomach protested that statement. “Actually…never mind that - pass me the fries.” Danny reached for their (tenth? eleventh?) package of fries and handed it to his friend, who sighed contently. “Nothing says "relax” quite like unhealthy food and video games full of mindless violence.“ "Agreed.” Danny said, hands folded back and cradling his head. “Especially when there are no ghost-weapons hitting me.” He laughed, his hand absently reaching to touch that specific spot on his head where the BOO-merang had hit him several times. “Or bullies.” “Or Vlad.” “Or ghosts.” “Or my parents.”

Silence ruled for a second. Danny’s thoughts wondered to his crush out of town. “Hey, do you think Sam’s having as much fun as us right now?”

…

Sam was not having fun.

As little kids dressed in expensive clothes ran past her and their mothers in tea dresses continued to gossip, the Goth’s scowl deepened. She could be in Danny’s place kicking his and Tucker’s asses in Doom - but nooooo, her mother had decided to drag her to a country club for a barbecue. A barbecue! She was an ultra-recyclo-vegetarian for goodness’ sake! If Tucker’s smell made her uneasy, then the sight of the burger patties and hot-dogs made her sick to her stomach.

Sam Manson growled. At least Danny and Tucker must be very miserable without her.

…

“TAKE THAT!” Tucker yelled in victory as he massacred the other player. Danny joined in as he killed another one. “HECK YEAH!” The screen lit up with the bright ending of the game: “YOU’VE MASSACRED ALL YOUR ENEMIES! YOU WIN!” Laughing and high-fiving each other, Danny and Tucker celebrated with their own awkward victory dances. “Fenton and Foley: the best gaming duo since the dawn of video games!” Danny hollered, pumping his hands in the air.

Coming down from their victorious feeling, the two friends settled down on the beanbag and the edge of the bed again, letting go of the grease-and-fat stained controls in exchange for more junk food. Suddenly a blue wisp of mist snaked out of Danny Fenton’s mouth immediately accompanied by a crash and screams from down the street. Both boys tilted their heads back in a groan.

“Bro, you said the portal was closed.” Tucker pointed out, spreading his arms to articulate his discontentment. “It was closed. Fenton technology isn’t exactly the most reliable in existence.” Danny shot back, equally annoyed. “We can…ignore the ghost until it gets bored and goes away?” The techno-geek suggested. More intense screams from the civilians of Amity Park. A silent agreement and a plan. Tucker sighed in defeat. “I’ll go get the thermos.” “I’ll go see who or what decided to interrupt our only day-off this time.” Danny Fenton stated before going ghost and summoning the pair of light rings. A flash of light and the hero Danny Phantom stood determined in the hazardous room. “Meet you downstairs.”

Nodding, the two boys prepared to fight.

…

A very accurate way to describe the way Tucker Foley and Danny Fenton/Phantom felt when fighting the ecto-pusses: robotic.

A couple of ecto-blasts thrown at the ghosts, a witty banter or other, getting thrown into some buildings, trapping the ghosts in the thermos, people booing or cheering Phantom as he left the scene flying with Tucker hastily following him on foot on the ground. You can sense something is off when fights with supernatural beings are about as normal as missing the bus to school. The uplifting yet lazy mood from that morning - two friends determined to do nothing except lay back and relax - had vanished like Danny’s ghost sense, leaving behind a pair of tired teenagers who’d seen too much - just enough to be numbed.

Danny and Tucker met again in Danny’s room and collapsed on their previous spots - Danny changing back into Danny Fenton and Tucker falling face-first on the bean-bag. Tucker looked up and fixed his glasses, eyeing the discarded package of fries hungrily before propping himself up on his elbows, grabbing the package, and fishing out the few remaining fries. “Welp, at least we still have some fries left.” Tucker said, smiling wistfully and trying to lift their spirits. Pun intended. He handed some to Danny, who reached out a tired hand to receive the salty fries. Despite the situation, Danny gave his friend a tired smile and popped one of the fries in his mouth. “Thank God for fries then.”

The halfa and the techno-geek laughed.

#danny phantom #dp fic/art exchange #dp fic/art exchange 2017 #dp headcanon #dp fanfiction

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liloelsagranger · 7 years

Text

New oneshot: Prepare for trouble and make it double

This is a oneshot for @teamrocketfanart. I hope you like it (the last part is a little bit short, BUT (SPOILER ALERT!) there will be a big wedding in my fanfiction “Until all eternity” if my readers want to. The next thing I’m going to upload is the tenth chapter of my longest story “UAE”. Have fun and thanks for your support :) Prepare for trouble and make it double Jessie, James and Meowth flew in a high arch through the air, eventually hitting the cold hard ground of an untraveled street surrounded by fancy terraced houses. The magenta-haired woman bobbed up, narrowed her eyes to a slit and tried to recognize the place in which they had landed. Jessie’s head was throbbing, the violent collision had caused a blurry and distorted vision. She staggered like a drunkard towards her team-mates. „Where are we? This sure doesn’t look familiar to me,“ she wondered while culling her belongings that were spread over the sidewalk. Jessie reached for her ruby red lipstick and her grass-green earrings, stowing them into her leather pouch. James shook his head and sat up. His whole body trembled and he felt dizzy and disoriented. He couldn’t remember what happened before the impact. Why did they blast off again? Did they lose an encounter with the twerps? Did Pikachu give them a sample of his powerful electric moves? James had a quick glance at his partner and looked quite surprised. „Jessie! What are you wearing?“ he was completely startled by her unusual sight and thought that this was a side effect of a possible concussion. „What do you mean? I’m wearing my uniform, you fool!“ Jessie snorted derisively and crossed her arms in front of her chest. „Dis is not yous uniform, Jess,“ Meowth put in his two cents. He made a stab at standing up, his knees were wobbly and he clinched to James’ arm to find his footing. Jessie looked down at herself, carefully examining her dress. It was navy blue and speckled with white dots. The cut of the dress was elegant and reminded her of a picture she had seen in a vintage magazine. Her hands moved upwards, frisking her hair that was worn quite sleek and smooth, with a slight wave at the front. Her outstretched fingers passed gently over a scarlet red headband that was made of plastic. Two pearl earrings adorned her porcelain face. Jessie flashed a smile. „Pass me your hand mirror, James! I want to admire my immortal beauty,“ she snatched at the item and looked at herself in the mirror.

„Truly unique!“ Jessie was really carried away by that pleasant sight. A flawless complexion and perfectly painted kissable lips. She was a feast for the eyes.

„What does this portend? Where are we?“ James asked, visibly frightened. „Look over there!“ Meowth pointed at a poster stand only a few meters away. Team Rocket got back on their feet and walked up to the adverstising board that was lit by a streetlamp. There was a picture of a man with blonde hair and a pompadour. He grinned ear to ear, his fingers sliding over a piano keyboard. He was wearing a striped suit, his name was Jerry Lee Lewis. Jessie didn’t notice anything unusual at first glance. He was probably putting on a big concert in the city hall of this inconspicuous place, but James caught sight of the date and let out a scream. He couldn’t belive his eyes. „It says the concert takes place tonight at nine o’clock,“ he swallowed hard. „What’s so bad about it? Why are you flinching? You look as though you’d seen a ghost“, Jessie scolded „Take a look at the date,“ he said with a quavering voice, pointing at the big brown number on the yellow background, right behind Lewis’ ears. Jessie and Meowth pushed their friend aside and stared at the ciphers disclosing the present year: 1957.Meowth’s jaw dropped, Jessie jumped out of her skin. She stepped back. „How’s that even possible? Did we do some kind of time travel? Is this a feeble joke? Who wants to frame us?“ she worked herself up. James spotted a wrinkled piece of paper on the sidewalk. He picked it up and tried to smooth out the single pages. He checked the date in the top right corner of the newspaper that confirmed their journey to the past. „Pinch me! Maybe, this is just a dream and I’m about to wake up,“ Jessie asked and Meowth acceded to this request, but nothing changed. They were still standing next to the poster stand, unsettled and suspicious. „This could be a test,“ James assumed. „They want to put us through our paces, they want to check our exercise capacity and see whether we’re able to deal with the pressures or not,“ he considered. Jessie was by no means convinced of James’ theory. “Or maybe, we’re just victims of a mass hysteria,“ Meowth whispered. „Maybe we’re no longer ourselves,“ Jessie presumed with regard to her superficial change.

Why would they send the trio back in time? This was a mystery which had to be solved. Suddenly, they could hear footsteps coming closer. An elderly woman, clad in swamp green, called for a certain Lady Jessica. „Quick! Go hide behind the bushes, we must not be seen together!“ Jessie ordered. James and Meowth jumped headfirst into the dense scrub and took cover. They peered through the brushwood in order to observe the scenery. The woman walked up to Jessie and grabbed her hands. „I was sick with worry, Lady Jessica. Where have you been today?“ the elderly woman wanted to know. Jessie had no idea who that lady was. She had curly vermilion hair and steel-blue eyes. „I was busy,“ Jessie answered, trying to come up with a credible excuse. The woman began to wipe the dirt off Jessie’s dress. „Look at you, totally soiled and your hair is more than tousled. We need to fix this before you’re going to meet John,“ she explained. Jessie’s eyes widened. „Who’s John?“ Jessie asked, giving a jerk as the woman bored a metallic bobby pin into her scalp. She was coarse and didn’t handle Jessie with kid gloves.The elderly lady laughed out loud. „You little jokester! John is your fiancé and tomorrow, you’re getting married,“ the woman exclaimed, ramming another barrette into Jessie’s hair. „I’m getting married?“ Jessie was more than astonished. „She’s getting married?“ James and Meowth whispered in unison. This was a major piece of news. „Who would marry a prickly character like Jessie?“ Meowth wonderd, casting the branches aside to obtain a better view of the curious events. „Of course, you are. He’s a splendid specimen! You’ve greatly exceeded the nubile age, it’s time to marry you off to a decent and career oriented gentleman who cares for you and who offers you the possibilty to live a worry-free life!“ Jessie was blown away by the description of this man called John. She imagined him being tall and buff because he was working out every day. He had dark hair and chocolate eyes, an overwhelming smile, money and stocks in abundance. He was well trained, strong and a self-starter. He would shower her with compliments and gifts, provide her with an unlimited credit card „I’m ready to meet my future husband,“ Jessie got into raptures, linked arms with the elderly lady and left her team-mates behind. Meowth wanted to take the initiative and follow Jessie and that woman, but James held the he-cat back. „Jimmy! What are yous doin’? We need to stop her,“ he shouted, baring his sharp claws. „No, Meowth! Haven’t you seen the overjoyed expression on Jessie’s face? She was delighted with the thought of John. Who knows, he could be the right guy. She’s been dreaming about a regal wedding for so long and now, there’s the possibility to put this greatest wish into reality. We shouldn’t detain her from eternal happiness, let’s go,“ James stood up and ran deeper into the forest. He couldn’t tell Meowth that Jessie’s decision had hit him especially hard. James was convinced that she enjoyed lving with Team Rocket, living with him. They’d spent so much time together. He had always tried to please her. James rememberd countless episodes of their common adventures. Jessie had protected him from the Ghost of Maiden’s Peak, he remembered her soft smile in their hot-air balloon when he had decided to choose Team Rocket over money and wealth, or her encouraging words in the shipwreck that threatened to take them down into the depths of the ocean. James always thought that he wasn’t all the same to Jessie, that he made part of her life and that she had found a loyal and trustworthy friend in him. There was this song playing in his head, he recalled the lyrics that described their relationship right on the mark: You were the rain falling on my skin Yeah, I was dying when you pulled me in I was your rebel and you were my girl It was us against the world But apparently he had been deceived in Jessie. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, she was gone. Jessie was about to meet John, a paragon, a doer, a man of the world and very likely the complete opposite of James. Jessie was led to an old manor with a grey facade and dark green window shutters at the end of the street. The Team Rocket-member spotted three figures behind the curtains. She recognized a woman with an updo and two men sitting at the table, sipping tea or coffee out of tiny ceramic mugs. The elderly lady, called Patricia, opened the entrance door and yield to Jessie. The young woman entered the manor and was welcomed by a man with short white hair and a giant moustache. He bowed down in front of Jessie, linked arms with her and guided her to the kitchen. There was a man sitting with his back to the agent and the woman behind the curtains proved to be a lady in her late 50ies, wearing a pastel yellow high waist Vivien swing skirt. „Jessica!“ she exclaimed and ran up to Jessie in order to hug her and place a tender kiss on her cheeks. Jessie kept calm and wasn’t trying to get away, although she felt anything but comfortable in this position. „Look who’s here,“ the woman smiled all over her face and Jessie was more than impatient to finally meet her future husband, the man of her sacred dreams. He stood up and turned around, that’s when Jessie experienced the strongest horror in her life.

John looked exactly like James, the same eye colour, the same lavender hair, they could definitely pass off as twins.

„Good evening, Jessica,“ even the voices were identic. Jessie was quite shocked. John reached for her hand and kissed it. She giggled and blushed deeply, unable to cope with this situation. Jessie began to laugh hysterically.

„This is a joke, right? Where are the cameras? You got me,“ she chuckled. „James, you’re such an idiot,“ Jessie clipped the man standing in front of her. John was perplex. Why did his fiancée Jessica act like that, completely out of sorts? She couldn’t calm herself, it was too much. „Jessica, is everything okay with you?“ he asked her, caressing her hand as she was still laughing herself to tears. „Stop calling me Jessica. Who’s the brain behind this? Meowth?“ Jessie wondered. „There is no Meowth. What is wrong with you? I think it’s the edginess that is driving you crazy. You can’t wait to marry me,“ John hugged Jessie and gently fixed a flyway hair. She immediately released herself from that tight embrace. „Stop it! It’s not funny! Why are you doing this to me, James?“ Jessie was slowly getting annoyed. „Sweetheart, my name is John,“ he confirmed. There was only one way to prove her theory. Jessie reached for John’s trouser pocket because she knew that James stored his crown cap collection in there, but she grasped at nothing. This wasn’t a prank, she was really facing her future husband, looking like that pathetic guy she spent so many years with.

„May I talk to you privately?“ he asked her. Jessie nodded, gradually realizing that John meant business. She followed him to the kitchen and he closed the door behind them. The kitchen was extremly colourful, but looked old-fashioned. She spotted stainless steel counters, which blended beautifully with the warm quality of wood and plaster surfaces throughout the room. There were a classic red espresso coffe pot, a scale, a magnetic kitchen timer, a set of three storage containers on the tray and a few milk pint bottles ready for use, eggs were frying in the pan. John wrapped his arms around her waist. „You’re going to be the perfect housewife, spending hours over a hot stove, cleaning the house and windows and feeding our children,“ he smiled softly at her, but Jessie flashed her eyes at him. „Get your hands off me,“ she yelled, pushing her fiancé away.

„Do you really think I’m going to be that dependent and naive dolly who prepares breakfast for her committed spouse? Listen to me, my friend, the only thing I’m going to do in this kitchen is slamming that roasting pan right into your face!“ Jessie was red from anger.

That’s not how she imagined her marriage. She was a headstrong woman, the leader of her former trio, the dominant and strong-willed person, but this was 1957 and powerful post-World War II propaganda encouraged women to seek husbands, settle down and have babies. Women who enrolled in higher education often did so in order to improve their domestic skills, but Jessie was a rebel and she wouldn’t let John or his family lower her to a level of a mere kitchen utensil. Jessie was emancipated and a feared Team Rocket-agent. No one was allowed to mortify her, she clearly called the shots.

The grip on her shoulders grew stronger. „You’re going to obey me, Jessica. You belong to me,“ John whispered with a threatening undertone. „There is no way back. Our parents agreed on this wedding and now it’s our task to please and not disappoint them,“ he added. Jessie tried to release herself from his firm grip. She fought tooth and nail against his arms, eventually able to break away from John. Patricia stepped into the kitchen and witnessed the discrepancies between the couple. „What’s going on?“ she exclaimed, observing Jessie running for cover behind the cooking island. „You can’t force me to marry him!“ Jessie shouted, she was all churned up inside.

„You can’t buck the trend, it’s your duty to become a good housewife and mother, so don’t be reluctant to enter into marriage,“ Patricia impended.

The elderly lady and John began to slowly walk up to Jessie, trying to calm her down, but the Team Rocket-member was faster, pressed the door handle of the rear exit and rushed out into the cool night.

Jessie began to run as fast as her legs would carry her. She got past countless lighted row houses and a well-groomed park. Thousands of thoughts circled endlessly in her mind and developed into a torment. Why had she always been unlucky in love? John wasn’t the first man who tried to change her manner. She remembered a guy called Sebastian who had tried to turn her into a submissive and obedient woman without own will. She remembered Toni who had exploited her to such an extent that she began to feel disgusted with herself. Men were known to bring bad luck. A disappointment followed the next. She always caught a Tartar, she struggled to swallow the tears which choked in her throat. Finally, Jessie stopped in front of a bar and set foot in it. The pub was crowded. Men and women were high-spiritedly dancing, drinking and celebrating. A band played some wild Rock’n’Roll-music and had to watch out for flying bottles and glasses. The magenta-haired woman cleaved a way to the bar counter and sat down on a stool. She ordered a strong drink and reached for snacks and peanuts in a little black bowl. At first, she didn’t even notice that someone approached her, until she felt a soft squeeze on her shoulder. „Jessie?“ a male voice said. She turned around and stared into two emerald-green eyes. James was standing behind her, slapping on a faint smile. „James,“ Jessie wrapped her arms around his neck, still fighting to hold back her tears. „I’m so glad to see you,“ she whispered. Meowth jumped on the bar counter and sat down next to his team-member. James realized that something was bothering his best friend. He returned the gesture and pulled her gently towards him. „What’s wrong? Don’t you like your future husband?“ he asked her. Jessie didn’t want to show any weaknesses, she who always proclaimed that feelings were for wimps, but she reached a point where she could no more get a hold of herself. „It’s terrible!“ she whimpered. James took a napkin and wiped her tears away. „Tell me,“ he surprised her with his caring side. „They want to force me to marry a macho. He’s so convinced of himself, he wants me to be a hausfrau, he wants me to cook, clean and watch after our unborn babies. They want to break my spirit and I cannot permit that! I’m a strong person, James, and I don’t want anybody to hector me! I’m independent, I’m a feared Team Rocket-agent, for goodness sake! I don’t want them to prey upon me, that’s just not my world. I do have an own will, I do have objectives and no one is going to demote me to a mere kitchen utensil! The problem is that there’s no way I could escape this wedding, it’s settled and there’s no chance to take off and bunk,“ she unburdened herself of her tragic situation. James could relate to her concerns, something similar was waiting for him if he would ever turn back to his parents and his domineering fiancée Jessiebelle. That’s why he wanted to stay out of marital matters. „And the worst part about it is that he looks like you,“ Jessie sobbed. „Well thanks,“ James felt a little bit offended by her remark. That’s when Meowth got the perfect idea. „Wait a minute,“ he looked at James and scowled. „Yous said that he looks like Jimmy, why don’t yous replace ya future husband with him?“ the scratch-cat proposed, pointing at James. Jessie raised her eyes. „That sure could work,“ she considered. James blanched and loosened his collar. „No way! I’m not marrying you,“ his voice was shaky. He swallowed hard and began to sweat. „Where’s da difference, Jimmy. Yous two are acting love-love all da dime,“ Meowth replied, convinced that his fraud would bear fruit. „But, but Jessie and I are just friends,“ James stammered, scared at the thought of entering into marriage. One part of him was able to acquire a taste for a sincere relationship with Jessie, for he had developed romantic feelings for her over that past few years, but the other part strived against this idea. He was afraid that Jessie would turn out to be an even worse partner than his dreadful fiancée and that he would suffer for the rest of his life, servile and abulic. „What about da hugs, what about yous holding hands?“ Meowth broached the subject again. „Purely amicable,“ James set the record straight. „And what about that incident at the waterfalls? Don’t you remember?“ Jessie tried to jog his memory. James thought back to the night in July when he and Jessie had made out under the moonlight. Both had been squiffy and excited. After emptying a bottle of cheap wine, he had taken the initative and crushed his lips on Jessie’s. James had kissed her in the most passionate way and she fell for his display of affection. It had been a memorable but unique moment. „Blame the wine,“ he replied with no guilty feeling. „Come’on James, please! Do me this favour. It’s just a fake marriage, the only thing I want to do is deceive them and restore my well-deserved freedom. We exchange our vow rings, take some pictures with the guests and disappear in our hot-air balloon as soon as they turn their backs on us, please“, Jessie begged. Normally, she wasn’t the person who would call for assistance and help, she was convinced to solve all major problems on her own, being tough and self-confindent, but tonight was different, James and Meowth had to bail her out.

„What do you want me to do, Jess?“ James was anything but pleased with the idea, but he had realized that his best friend was in need of support.

„You two have to kidnap John, tie him to the heating, steal his suit and the rings and get ready for the ultimate ploy,“ Jessie explaind, rubbing her hands. „I think I’ve got no alternative left but to meet your request,“ he sighed and hung his head in discontent.

„Thank you,“ Jessie wasn’t actually averse to marrying James. Sure, there have been wrangles and they’ve delivered fierce blows to each in the past, but on the whole, he had always been loyal and attentive. James nodded silently and he and Meowth set out for a nocturnal abduction.

It didn’t take them long to track John down. Jessie had described them the way to the old manor, and her future husband was sleeping in the beautifully equipped sitting room. Meowth used his claws to make a hole into the giant glass window and the Team Rocket-members tiptoed stock-still to the dusky pink couch, trussed John and shut him up as he began to scream and shout. „Hmm, there are some similarities,“ James looked at the lavender-haired man, „but he can’t hold a candle to me,“ he determined.

James threw his doppelganger over his shoulders and he, Meowth and the unfortunate soul left the building as quickly as they had come. John tried desperately to stand up to James, but the agent pulled the ropes and silenced the braggart. Meowth switched on the torch and searched for a suitable garden shed to lock the future spouse up. They pushed him into the small cottage, took off John’s last piece of clothing, snatched at the vow rings and padlocked the doors. „That was the easy part of Jessie’s plan,“ James sighed, the rings in his hand. Both were silver, the smaller one had a tiny diamond on top. ‚Jessie would love it,’ he thought and stowed the box in his trousers. It was the day of the wedding. Jessie was wearing an ivory gown with floral applique with a sheer tulle panel at the neckline and a dreamy ball skirt. She applied some mascara and lipstick to stand out above the crowd. James was already standing on the altar, nervous and with sweaty hands. Meowth bore him company, dressed in a neat dark brown garb, a flower looking out of his breast pocket. Then the time came, the music played and Jessie, her face covered with a veil, walked down the aisle. The priest welcomed his protégés, thanked them and the guests and introduced the purpose of this gathering. After the opening blessings he asked Jessie and James to turn face to face to each other and to express the sincere promises to each other. James took out a note from his trousers and began to read the lines: „Jessie, my partner, my companion, my safe haven,“ his voice was shaky. „We’ve been togehter for so many years,“ he choked, took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the words written on that tiny little piece of paper.

„I can’t imagine a life without you,“ he was more than close to tears.

„Thank you for,“ James sobbed heart-rendingly, not able to talk anymore. Jessie grinned under the veil and caressed his cheeks. „It’s okay,“ she whispered, so that only James could hear it. „The groom is terribly nervous,“ the priest joked and everyone laughed out loud. „Let’s skip this part, okay?“ Jessie suggested and James nodded in agreement. „We both know why we want to stay together,“ she added, reaching for his hand.

„John, do you take Jessica to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her?“ „I do,“ James replied. „And do you, Jessica, take John to be your husband?“

„I do,“ was Jessie’s answer.

James took out the rings and placed the smaller one on Jessie’s finger. „Jessie, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity.“ The priest observed the scenery and eventually pronounced them as husband and wife.

„You may now kiss the bride,“ he said. James leaned in and was about to place a tender kiss on Jessie’s lips and then she woke up.

Jessie was sitting bolt upright in her bed. She glanced over to James who was still snoring and asleep. It had only been a dream, she didn’t have to marry John nor James. She was back in the presence, far away from the 50ies, far away from strict rules. ‚That was a strange dream. Why would I want to get married to James?’ she asked herself. Was this really only a dream or possibly some undisclosed desires?

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20thcentury-kylo · 7 years

Text

Caught in the moment Chapter 2

Hi, welcome to chapter 2, I took more time to develop the idea for this chapter, so it should flow better overall. Enjoy Johnny skated back to garage in a bit of a daze. Not only had he got into the show, but he met the girl. But the more he thought about the more he realized, he didn't know what the name of this girl was! Not only that, she didn't make the show. He'd Probably never see her again. He sat down wIth a downtrodden look on his face. Johnny begins to question why he's upset, he shouldn't care, he should be happy he's finally doing what he loves. So why isnt he? He sighs looking at the clock on the wall. Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc. The empty ticking of the clock is driving him crazy, johnny needed answers. He decided to sleep on it, in hopes that it would bring him some kind of peace..... Shouts of suppressed anger filled the street as Meena walked home, tears falling slowly, in time with the mood fitting rain drops that started to fall. That was her chance, but she got too scared and chickened out. What was even worse was that the boy was there, watching her, and she ended up making a fool of herself. Meena stopped at that moment. She took a deep breath, and tried to re-evaluate her thoughts. She stood there desperately trying to focus on anything but him, and after several attempts she sighed giving in to her apparent obsession. As morning arrived the next day everyone, was up at the theatre excited to practice. Johnny, who had just learned that he'd be playing the piano was in a bit of a rut, growling in Frustration as he hit the same wrong note for about the tenth time. He knew that he wasn't that bad, but with his head muddled with thoughts of the previous day, it was even harder to concentrate. And to top it all off the power went out, so he decided to head down stairs to see what the problem was. "You got this, just stay calm." Meena chanted to herself as she approached the theatre, following her grandpa's advice wasn't the easiet thing to do but she was prepared to try. She was almost at the steps when she was surprised by Mr. Moon hanging from what looked like an extension cord in front of her. "Hey Meena, just the gal i wanted to see, so could you do me a small favor and get me up to that ledge?" Buster pleaded becoming a little dizzy from hanging upside down. Once he was up there Meena remembered why she was there. "So umm Mr. Moon I was wondering if i could re audition for the show please?" Meena inquired. Soon after, buster jumped down, and they both walked towards the theatre doors. "Of course, but there aren't any--." Buster stopped mid sentence as the Frog trio burst through the doors, each going in a different direction, and clearly angry with each other. "Well it turns out ive got just the spot for you." Buster said smiling. They walked in, heading straight for the practice area. Meena was surprised at how peaceful it was, like everyone was in their own little world she could relate to that in a way. Meena was so caught up in the sheer atmosphere of the place that she didn't watch where she was going, and bumped into someone. And just like that, it was if they had just met all over again. Their eyes locked on each other. "Hey." Johnny greeted with a grin settling on his face causing her to blush a bit. "Hey." Meena found herself un able to stop smiling. Gunter, and Rosita had just come back from grabbing some water when they stumbled upon the pair. "So umm, I never caught your name." Johnny said scratching the back of his head, his cheeks practically glowing red. "Oh I-its Meena." Meena held her hand out for a shake to wich Johnny gladly accepted. Both stopping as soon as thier hands touch. Almost as if they were stuck there. Unbeknownst to them, buster had joined Gunter's "spy on the teens club". "A pleasure to meet you Meena, the names Johnny." Their hands were still entangled as they spoke. "Johnny, we still need to go over your song selection!!" Mrs. Crawley's frail voice called out from upstairs, snapping the two out of their daze. "Guess I should be getting back up then." Johnny laughed a bit still nervously scratching the back of his neck. Johnny jogged back up stairs, but not before taking one last glance at Meena smiling as he did. By this time Rosita and Gunter had gone back to practicing. Buster had stayed back thinking, as if he was plotting something. Meena was headed to her practice area, when she was approached by buster. "Hey Meena, here yours song list, and feel free to contact me if you need anything ok?" Meena looked at the list. The songs were ok, but she noticed some of them were duets. "Hey, Mr. Moon some of these songs were meant for two people." Buster only turned, and with a smile on his face he said, "I know, maybe you could work with someone." Buster walked of leaving Meena a bit confused. Johnny was still struggling a bit, to be truthful the song choice hadn't been his favorite, atleast not for someone in his current mood. His thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Moon handing him a new song list, and giving him a wink before he left. Looking over the list, he noticed some duet songs on the list. Putting 2 and 2 together, he came to a realization. [Knock knock Knock] Well i hope you enjoyed this chapter. Also id like to say that im gonna make some art to go with this. Hakiashi Out

#sing movie #sing 2016 #sing johnny #johnny sing #sing meena #meena sing #sing buster #sing rosita #sing gunter #johnny x meena #fanfic

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